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.