Sir Nar Ringgold

                Unbeknownst to the wayward travellers upon an
                isolated trek of the 'Old Roman North Road', a
                well hidden 'Sentinel' of the 'Forest Primeval'
                awaits atop the heights of a nearby tree
                enshouded hill.  The 'Stranger Darkly' gazes
                down upon the land below, discerning whether
                the newcomers be friend or foe to all that he
                holds sacred and dear to his heart.

                To the Celtic Tribes this Sentinel would most
                likely be viewed as a 'Protector and Champion
                of the Land'.  To those of the 'Older Faiths'
                . . . he's a dedicated servant to the Earth
                Mother goddess; on the other hand, outsiders
                from the South may simply see him as a barbaric
                pagan savage.

                His voice echoes through the hills as he screams to the
                strangers below . . .

        "Hold, n' do na come any the further . . . r'e suffers me wrath
without quarter!  Wot be thy business pon this most sacred land O' mine

            Upon learning that the trespassers had no ill intent and
that they were simply merchants plying their trade, the Sentinel abandon-
ed his post and quickly made his way down to the newcomers.  The watcher
from above trekked through the bush laiden hill effortlessly; not long
afterwards a most unusual sight fell upon the unsuspecting eyes of the
merchants gathered upon the 'Old Roman Road' . . .

            A rather large shambling mound of flora emerged onto the road
from the thick underbrush just a mere few feet from them.  Astonishingly
the mound begins to speak . . .

            "Greetings, me monkier be Nars of the Forest Primeval."

            Whilst Nars makes his introductions, he begins to remove his
camoflague, which is comprised of fish netting and flora from the adjacent
field.  A well armed and rather large muscled tattooed brute emerges from
his cacoon before their very eyes.  Not one lick of hair graced his unremark-
able countenance, yet he did exhibit rather distastful tatooes upon both his
bare pate and face . . . some of the red and black scarring resembled eyebrows
and a host of other pagan symbols and designs.  His almost aquiline nose seem-
ed to jut from his prominent forehead, and his jaw boasted a dimple at its

            A distasteful feral odor wafts from Nars person, consequently
engulfing the unfortunate traders within his horrid vapors.  Several of the
merchants began to reflexively gagg; they immediately rendered prayers to
their god that their self appointed guide would perform his duty from a more
acceptable range.

            To be Continued . . .