The Trip: Part 2

Our merry band started on their journey, the great chariot sped along its merry way, till it arrived at its destination.
The dust settled, the doors opened and the occupants stepped out into the cool air.

The Great Gumba reared back and stretched his mighty sinews, The Bard sang a song of contentment, Lysander swatted at the fairies and started to complain about the light, and Lady Sky just stood and smiled, for they were all at the gates and waiting to enter Ceare Leone.

The gates opened to a wondrous celebration, for King Arthur was in town and there was a great feast and tournament afoot.
In strode our merry band, past, jugglers and rose wenches, past the Pope and Bishop, past hordes of people waiting in line for scotch eggs and turkey legs.

There were sword swallowers and fire-eaters, acrobats and sages, storytellers and minstrels, all sorts of people and things and animals, so much to see and so little time to do it all.
A fine mist in the morning gave way to showers by noon; the singing executioners were all wet as they performed their wry type of humor. The rose wenches looked especially good all wet, and the barbarians just stood outside, in the rain, eating.

Leather crafters were abundant and the Gumba looked for many shiny things to purchase, but to no avail, their was nothing the Gumba wished to purchase today, however he did purchase a rose for both, Kerry the Bard and Lady Sky, much to the chagrin of Sir Lysander. Yes the Gumba was now one up on Lysander and was loving every minute of it.

The rain subsided just in time for the Jousting match, the nights rode out in their finery atop mighty steeds, belching and snorting, with chain mail draped over their hides.

One knight caught the Gumbas attention, SHE, yes she, was a fierce warrior, with the temperament of a shrew and the tongue of a snake, she could wield a sword as well as any man and proved it on the field of honor this day, besting even Lancelot himself.

Much merriment and libations was had by all this day, for all was well and everyone was happy, there is much more to tell, but as the saying goes,
What happens at the Faire stays at the Faire.

Tis been some time since the Great White Sage has scribed, he has been busy. HA.
But I digress.
The Great Gumba has done much, seen much and been through much since last we spoke so I shall endeavor to put to parchment all that has transpired over the next several weeks.

Where to begin, hmmmmm,
The voyage to Cyear Leone, The Handfasting of Lysander, The raid on the woods of Mcphearson, The great festival of Lincolnshire, King Richards feast and faire, Persnicity Loughdaigh, The scribings of Holipona, The many Rougues and Wenches we have met along the way. The foray back into the woods, surrounding Castle Catalano. The Great Beasts hunting tales. Two new characters to be named later.

So lets begin.

The Voyage to Cyear Leone

The Great Gumba awoke to a glorious sunrise, yes you heard me correctly, the Gumba was watching the sunrise, for today our merry band was traveling a great distance to the great and glorious Cyear Leone, to catch a glimpse of King Arthur and feast at the kings favorite table.
Kerry the Bard was all a twitter, for the two had not been away from Castle Catalano for a very long time.
The two loaded up the chariot and set off to pick up Lysander and Lady Skye.
Over the bridge guarded by trolls, to the fields of enchantment and beyond, our chariot strode, until at last they reached Lincolnshire and the lands of Lysander.
The chariot came to a thundering stop in front of the gate to Lysanders lair, the gate gave forth a great cry as it opened, fairies fled from the sound, flowers wilted, and women cried.
A great sound was heard and out forth strode Lysander, the black knight.
The Gumba whacked him about the head and said, Cut it out, hurry up, lets go, who on Odins green earth are you trying to impress?.
Lysander and Lady sky scurried into the chariot and soon our band of merrymakers were off, off to see King Arthur.

The chariot rode and rode, hours upon hours, days upon days, down the great Northron region, down through the Mans fields of dreams, down through the Islands of Rhodes, down to Cyear Leone.

The chariot rumbled to a stop outside the gates of the foreign kingdom, trumpets heralded the arrival of our band of merrymakers, behold the man Lincolnshire and his lady, behold The Great Gumba and Kerry the Bard.
Behold, for the land shall not be the same.
To be continued.