As the Storyteller sipped from his mug, one of the children in front. A small girl with dirty blonde hair and eager blue eyes spoke up to get his attention. He glanced her way and raised his eyebrows awaiting her to speak as he enjoyed the bitterness of his beverage. "Can you tell us the story about the Hanging Tree?" The Storyteller paused from his drink as his eyes seemed to look past the girl as he was deep in thought. There were many stories involving those accused trees, but almost none of them were for young children. After a few seconds recognition flashed in his eyes as he put the mug down looking at the young child who was grinning at him with a smile that had quite a few missing teeth in it. He cleared his throat. "Are you talking about the Dryad and the Hanging Tree?" The Storyteller asked the clarifying question. The child nodded her head enthusiastically as did several other children who knew the tale. The old man gave a small sign of relief, as this made him feel a bit better. He had briefly worried he had slipped up in his old age and told them a story they would have been better off not hearing. He rubbed his calloused hands together as he put his thoughts in order as he began to weave his tale. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- While it is true that the Hanging Trees though rare are a truly dangerous existence, that will snatch up anything that comes underneath their crown to feast upon it and the massive ones that can encompass cities have vines and roots that can extend for miles upon miles. There was once a strange happening. Something weird. Something unexpected had happened. Somehow a malicious Hanging Tree gave birth to a benevolent tree spirit. A dryad. A tall slender woman of oaken skin and emerald green leaves for hair. The Dryad borne of ignorance knew little of the origins of the Hanging Tree and yet it seemed the Hanging Tree had given most of itself completely to the nature spirit. It stopped attacking indiscriminately everything that wandered under its branches. Only taking what the Dryad allowed it to take. The Dryad found herself sad because everything gave her tree a wide berth, refusing to come anywhere underneath its crown of leaves. As ages passed and the Hanging Tree and the Dryad grew. It was when flecks of autumn were beginning to grow within her leaves that something different occurred. Something quelled the Dryad's loneliness. The tree that now rivaled a forty-story building in height warned her of approaching figures. She saw them clearly as she could see them through the senses of the tree if she wished. It was a band of about two dozen elvish children. Wearing clothing that was worn and tattered being chased by a group of human men. She had seen smoke on the horizon earlier that day but had paid it little attention because man and elf seldom wandered to deeply into her forest. Concerned she had started to make her way towards the two groups when one of the slower children were grabbed and she witnessed through the eyes of the tree one of the men break one of the legs of the children that she felt her temper flare and like lightening vines from the tree began to lash out. Snatching the man and another that was close to him and they disappeared up into the leaves of the tree. One of the men screamed realizing they had come to close to the cursed tree while chasing the children. Not a single human escaped. Some pulled beneath the ground, while others vanished like the first two that were grabbed. The dryad approached the children who were all huddled together on the ground. She kneeled before them and despite their terror and tears her wooden hand reached out and gently grasped the broken leg of the elf and a soothing warm green glow emanated from her hand as the bone reknit itself and became as good as new. There was a slight issue in the beginning when the Dryad and the elves could not communicate with one another as she knew not their language, but they followed her back to the massive tree. It was true that they were terrified because of the many tales they had heard of the tree. The children had little choice in the matter because their town was now gone. The dryad would eventually learn that their town had been razed by slavers who were looking to take them away. She taught them how to survive. She taught them how to use nature magic. In return they named her Alda. Alda never knew loneliness again. She transformed the massive Hanging Tree into a Tree City as the ages passed. What had started out as twenty-four elves had become thousands, and Alda protected the Elves and they in turn cared for her. ---------------------------------------------------------------- As he finished his last sentence, the Storyteller grabbed his mug and raised it to his lips before frowning slightly realizing the cup was empty. It was then that the barkeep came up with a fresh pot of coffee and refilled his mug. The older man smiled and was already reaching into his pouch to fish out the man a coin when the barkeep shook his head. "Dat won't be necessary, your ability to keep these rascals out of trouble is payment enough." He glanced towards two kids in particular. A young boy and his older sister. Who were doing their best not to make eye contact, as it seemed neither of them had forgotten about the slammed door. The Barkeep gestured away towards the children. "Away with the lot of you! It'll be dark soon and you all need to be home before the Shadowman comes out!" He waved his fingers in an attempt to make a spooky ooooooooo noise as the children giggled and left the tavern save for his two that ran upstairs.