Gewyn stops looking around and walks up to the bar. Leaning on it casually beside one of the mugs, he says, "You have my interest with this talk of stories. How do you know? About the nature of ones story at what may or may not affect it?"
"well I knew you'd be interested Gewyn." Morris leans on the bar amused, "everyone's story is important, and I collect them, sometimes I like to check in on those who's stories will be great, get a first hand recollection, get a feel for the lives contained within. But it wouldn't do for me to go meddling now would it? If a bard has a favourite tale of old, he might want to travel through time to see the action unfold with his own eyes yes? But if he meddled and made the tale about himself, well that would just be taking away what made the tale special to start with, it would be quite selfish."
"...And so back to your question, I try not to influence or guide, I am but an eager observer, and when the time comes I will collect all of your stories too." He taps his head at the last bit, insinuating that he keeps the stories in his head
"I see it Sam, they're kinda cute. But come on, there is a pub in a tree.. looks like these guys are done talking to you anyways." She looks down to check, but all the stones seem to be ordinary again.
"C'mon Sam and Griff, this is interesting." And she starts heading back to where she thinks it is.
"Muir and his trees," Sam sighs as he steps up to the rock he was trying to talk to and pokes it a time or to. Gentle pushes, as if trying to wake it up. ((Just how big is this boulder? How likely does it seem Sam could move it around or carry it a bit?))
"Probably had enough of pubs last night anyway," Sam thinks with a wince of remembered hangover. Sam takes a minute to examine the area, firstly the small dancing stones to see if they made any patterns in the snow that could be decipherable as anything to Sam. ((Perception: 8 so probably not)) Next Sam is looking in the general area trying to determine the path the rock dude was on and if there is a spot Sam could move it to which would make it's travel in that direction easier, at least as far as Sam can see? ((Perception again: 21)) (If investigation or something else more appropriate just let me know.)
Sam looks south, the direction the boulder seemed to want to go, and using his body he is able to wade a path down toward the road, leaving a nice little channel for the boulder, (which seems too heavy to move by himself) to be able to make its way where it needs, uninhibited by the snow as long as no more falls tonight.
As Sam is nearing the road followed by Griff and Elthana, he spots something else, in the tree just past where the horses are tied up sits a squirrel, wearing full silvered armour, an appropriately sized sword at its waist and a small key hanging from a chain around its neck. The squirrel gives a loud squeak and hops further into the trees to the north west. Elthana recognises it instantly as the thing Muir and herself were chasing earlier.
Sam picks up one of the dancing stones and pockets it saying "To remember you by," before he uses his Giant's Might to embiggen himself and does what he can to clear a path for the rock dude.
"If I knew where you were going I would help more but..." But Sam cuts off short upon seeing the squirrel. SQUIRREL! his mind shouts and he blinks. Not that squirrels are startling or uncommon but... In armor? With swords?!?
"Just how much did I have to drink last night?" Sam calls over to Elthana. "Maybe I am seeing things tonight...."
"Well, I've been in this one and I feel it is something you'll want to see." Elthana starts in, but then steps back as Sam grows into his larger self.
"What do you mean if you knew where I was going?" She scratches her head, "I was planning on showing you. Oh! And here is the squirrel that'll lead the way." She smiles, "No, you aren't seeing thing. And I'll make sure that you don't drink too much." she says a bit wryly.
"Not you, Rock Dude," Sam responds while he is clearing the path.
"Wait... You know that squirrel?" Sam asks, suspiciously. "What's he running for then? He owe you money?"
"Or... errr... chestnuts?" And with that thought, Sam's hand goes to his bag of Golden Acorns and tightens the knots holding it shut and moves it inside of his clothing to keep it as safe as possible.
Sam, Elthana, and Griff all make it to a door in a tree painted brightly and signposted as 'the world tree' pub.
As they enter they see Muir, Vin and Gewyn chatting to an old man who is leaning on the bar, "... And he wasn't using the teleport spell no, because people would have seen him disappear, felt the rush of actual magic especially with how large he was, no, no. You see to complete his show and keep people guessing he needed a clone of himself, for every show. now usually a clone cannot exist at the same time as it's caster, but the Huge Akman, as talented as he was managed to do it, of course these things can and do naturally go wrong every so often." At this point the old man Morris looks up to see Elthana, Sam and Griff descend the stairs into the warm and festively decorated bar. "Come come, take a seat, where were we... Ah yes, so every show, to complete the trick, either the clone or the caster had to die, and that's the true meaning of showmanship, the sacrifice of a literal piece of one's soul to pull off a prestige like that... Later on The Huge Akman was named the greatest showman for a time, but now you know!" Morris gives a warm smile and a nod to Gewyn after finishing the story.
"Now that you're all here I suppose I should reintroduce us all, I am Morris, storykeeper and bartender of this travelling establishment," the sound of a small door closing and locking behind Sam draws attention as a squirrel in shining armour enters through the small door inset into the large one, the squirrel scampers up the wall and takes a sentry position in the rafters. "That there is Ratosk, he is the owner of this place and uses it for his job as a messenger for particularly high and mighty clientele... Aaaand down there is Xazgan, a demon currently under our 'care', she doesn't want to be here but it's for her own good, isn't that right?"
The cloaked body on the floor rises and the group see a red skinned woman who's face is incased in some kind of iron mask, with gems inset. The woman's horns stretch the fabric of the hooded cloak out wide as her black hair descends from within, she stretches out an arm and points a clawed finger at the old man, screaming "I will rip your eyes from your head and force feed them to you, just so you have an internal view of me disemboweling you! You creepy old bastard!" Morris seems to ignore the threat and looks to the group with a face that is entirely unphased, "she sweeps the floors... Sometimes... Anyway! The reason I had you brought here is to hear your stories, that is the only form of payment I take, and if you're willing to tell your story, you can eat, drink, and sleep here for as long as you'd like!"
Sam is reluctant to enter this tree door. "It's just not right," he complains to Elthana. "Whole spaces inside trees like that. It's why I don't use Muir's... Here we are all talking about the dangers of portals to other places and yet using one to sleep in? Now to drink in? Explain how this is different?"
Still and all, there are times when men just don't actually have a choice and have to just do as they are told. So it is that Sam hesitates but then steps over the threshold and into the tree to find Muir, Gewyn and Vin in mid chat. Sam looks around cautiously and with an appraising eye - it is indeed a nice enough establishment, he had to admit. Nicer than most of the places he worked in, drank in, fought in or did all on the same night, for sure. He nods politely enough when introductions are given by the one called Morris but only grunts out a response. When the demon starts screaming Sam takes a quick half step back and grabs his maul but quickly relaxes when he sees neither Morris or Ratosk are alarmed.
"And who are you to decide on a demon's own good?" Sam asks skeptically, still at ill ease of the situation.
"I've, uh... I have no stories worth a drink. And I do have a campsite all prepared. I really shouldn't leave that fire unattended for too long," Sam says, not wanting to step further into the establishment. "Horses need tending to, our stuff needs guarding...Someone has to make sure nobody escapes from that trunk, right?"
"done!" Says Morris with a smile, he nods to Ratosk in the rafters and the Squirrel darts off towards the door and locks the larger one. "There, now very little time will pass outside whilst you are in here. You can stay all night and it will be a matter of minutes in your realm.. and I think you have plenty of stories Sam." Morris puts a glass on the counter, the liquid within is crystal clear and cool, condensation drips down the outside of it. "Here, for you."
Griff seems to find a large sofa and sit down to snooze.
After being largely ignored, the demon walks of in a huff and goes to the opposite end if the bar to Griff, slouching in her own sofa.
Muir continues to sit and decides that he’d share a story if Morris would like to hear one “I will tell you a story if you’d like to hear one. Is there something in particular you’d like to hear?” Muir watches the demon walk off in a huff “So what is she “in” for?”
"any story that is yours and is true, that is all I ask. She is currently here to prevent her from dying, she has a job to do and a time to do it, but if she goes too early she will die again." Morris rolls his eyes, expressing the absurdity of what he just said and also casts a quick glance toward Vin and Neferox, "like I said, nothing to worry about. Here this is for you Muir" Morris pulls out a second drink, this one a thick purplish liquid contained within a wooden cup, like a hollowed out bamboo style cup.
Gewyn takes a seat and gets comfortable. "My, she IS intense, isn't she. Xazgan, was it? You simply must tell me how you grow your horns to such a luxurious length. And I suppose I've a few tales of my own I could share. I'll pay for Sam as well."
"You can't change time," Sam insists. "Time is... time!"
Sam harumphs, crosses his arms and leans into standing here annoyed for quite some time. This place is... unnatural. Sam is not happy about it one bit. Things should have the common decency to be what they are and make sense... Or be ready to have their heads caved in and out down, like the dwarves and the beasts from the trees. This... This was just sideways in a rather backwards kind of way.
"well then Gewyn, I have something here for you too" Morris pulls up a wine glass with a liquid which is pink at the bottom and orange further up, like the sky on an autumn night, topped with something frothy. " And change time? Time changes every second... Far be it for me to meddle in the time of one realm, no, no, time is going perfectly normally In your realm, we are just moving incredibly fast by relative comparison. Take Griff over there for example, how is he faring in your realm, is he tired? Sleeping alot?" Morris pulls a pint glass out with a dark blue liquid in, at the bottom of the glass is a much smaller glass submerged upside down and filled with some kind of thick gas or smoke, "here someone take him this. That'll pep him up"
Muir listens to Morris know Griff’s condition and takes a sip out of the bamboo cup “Bamboo? Sustainable and appreciated. You are correct sir. You are more than just a mere man Hmm?”
The demon Xazgan simply scoffs at Gewyn's compliment, even though she has distanced herself from the group, they can still hear her as she begins scratching her claws across the wooden table in front of her.
"More than a mere man, an interesting statement Indeed. The assumption that any man is 'mere' and does not have a worthy story wounds me good sir" Morris smiles, amused at his feign of taking offence, "of course some stories are more interesting than others, or I wouldn't be here, talking with you all. Yes I suppose I am more if an idea, an aspect, than I am a man. My being is determined by the idea that my purpose holds value, that being said it means that I am hard to categorise, nott really Man, nor Fiend or Fae, I am in no way a God if that was your assumption, though some do revere my purpose with zeal." Morris takes out two more drinking vessels, one is a hot brown drink in a thick brown mug, which he slides over to Vin, the other a metal cylinder the liquid inside obscured from view, left on the bar for Elthana. "So! Who would like to begin?"
"Relax?" Sam says with the grump obvious in his voice... but after a second he sighs and then leans back against the door.
"Hold on, hold on," Sam calls out when Morris asks who would like to begin. "What are the rules again? Did you say the stories had to be truthful? And belong to us? Spell that out for me, eh? Firstly, how can a story belong to anyone? Even if I told you the story of how Elthana and I first met it wouldn't be my story. It would at least be our story. Hers and mine. No? And what do you mean by truthful? Just because how I tell the story doesn't exactly match how she tells the story that doesn't make either any less true... It's just different views of what happened, eh?"
"But mostly what I am wondering... Why do you want the stories? What you going to do with them? You have a hoard of stories in a back room you stole out of peoples heads for a beer and a nap?"
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Gewyn stops looking around and walks up to the bar. Leaning on it casually beside one of the mugs, he says, "You have my interest with this talk of stories. How do you know? About the nature of ones story at what may or may not affect it?"
"well I knew you'd be interested Gewyn." Morris leans on the bar amused, "everyone's story is important, and I collect them, sometimes I like to check in on those who's stories will be great, get a first hand recollection, get a feel for the lives contained within. But it wouldn't do for me to go meddling now would it? If a bard has a favourite tale of old, he might want to travel through time to see the action unfold with his own eyes yes? But if he meddled and made the tale about himself, well that would just be taking away what made the tale special to start with, it would be quite selfish."
"...And so back to your question, I try not to influence or guide, I am but an eager observer, and when the time comes I will collect all of your stories too." He taps his head at the last bit, insinuating that he keeps the stories in his head
"I see it Sam, they're kinda cute. But come on, there is a pub in a tree.. looks like these guys are done talking to you anyways." She looks down to check, but all the stones seem to be ordinary again.
"C'mon Sam and Griff, this is interesting." And she starts heading back to where she thinks it is.
"Muir and his trees," Sam sighs as he steps up to the rock he was trying to talk to and pokes it a time or to. Gentle pushes, as if trying to wake it up. ((Just how big is this boulder? How likely does it seem Sam could move it around or carry it a bit?))
"Probably had enough of pubs last night anyway," Sam thinks with a wince of remembered hangover. Sam takes a minute to examine the area, firstly the small dancing stones to see if they made any patterns in the snow that could be decipherable as anything to Sam. ((Perception: 8 so probably not)) Next Sam is looking in the general area trying to determine the path the rock dude was on and if there is a spot Sam could move it to which would make it's travel in that direction easier, at least as far as Sam can see? ((Perception again: 21)) (If investigation or something else more appropriate just let me know.)
Sam looks south, the direction the boulder seemed to want to go, and using his body he is able to wade a path down toward the road, leaving a nice little channel for the boulder, (which seems too heavy to move by himself) to be able to make its way where it needs, uninhibited by the snow as long as no more falls tonight.
As Sam is nearing the road followed by Griff and Elthana, he spots something else, in the tree just past where the horses are tied up sits a squirrel, wearing full silvered armour, an appropriately sized sword at its waist and a small key hanging from a chain around its neck. The squirrel gives a loud squeak and hops further into the trees to the north west. Elthana recognises it instantly as the thing Muir and herself were chasing earlier.
Sam picks up one of the dancing stones and pockets it saying "To remember you by," before he uses his Giant's Might to embiggen himself and does what he can to clear a path for the rock dude.
"If I knew where you were going I would help more but..." But Sam cuts off short upon seeing the squirrel. SQUIRREL! his mind shouts and he blinks. Not that squirrels are startling or uncommon but... In armor? With swords?!?
"Just how much did I have to drink last night?" Sam calls over to Elthana. "Maybe I am seeing things tonight...."
"Well, I've been in this one and I feel it is something you'll want to see." Elthana starts in, but then steps back as Sam grows into his larger self.
"What do you mean if you knew where I was going?" She scratches her head, "I was planning on showing you. Oh! And here is the squirrel that'll lead the way." She smiles, "No, you aren't seeing thing. And I'll make sure that you don't drink too much." she says a bit wryly.
"Not you, Rock Dude," Sam responds while he is clearing the path.
"Wait... You know that squirrel?" Sam asks, suspiciously. "What's he running for then? He owe you money?"
"Or... errr... chestnuts?" And with that thought, Sam's hand goes to his bag of Golden Acorns and tightens the knots holding it shut and moves it inside of his clothing to keep it as safe as possible.
Sam, Elthana, and Griff all make it to a door in a tree painted brightly and signposted as 'the world tree' pub.
As they enter they see Muir, Vin and Gewyn chatting to an old man who is leaning on the bar, "... And he wasn't using the teleport spell no, because people would have seen him disappear, felt the rush of actual magic especially with how large he was, no, no. You see to complete his show and keep people guessing he needed a clone of himself, for every show. now usually a clone cannot exist at the same time as it's caster, but the Huge Akman, as talented as he was managed to do it, of course these things can and do naturally go wrong every so often." At this point the old man Morris looks up to see Elthana, Sam and Griff descend the stairs into the warm and festively decorated bar. "Come come, take a seat, where were we... Ah yes, so every show, to complete the trick, either the clone or the caster had to die, and that's the true meaning of showmanship, the sacrifice of a literal piece of one's soul to pull off a prestige like that... Later on The Huge Akman was named the greatest showman for a time, but now you know!" Morris gives a warm smile and a nod to Gewyn after finishing the story.
"Now that you're all here I suppose I should reintroduce us all, I am Morris, storykeeper and bartender of this travelling establishment," the sound of a small door closing and locking behind Sam draws attention as a squirrel in shining armour enters through the small door inset into the large one, the squirrel scampers up the wall and takes a sentry position in the rafters. "That there is Ratosk, he is the owner of this place and uses it for his job as a messenger for particularly high and mighty clientele... Aaaand down there is Xazgan, a demon currently under our 'care', she doesn't want to be here but it's for her own good, isn't that right?"
The cloaked body on the floor rises and the group see a red skinned woman who's face is incased in some kind of iron mask, with gems inset. The woman's horns stretch the fabric of the hooded cloak out wide as her black hair descends from within, she stretches out an arm and points a clawed finger at the old man, screaming "I will rip your eyes from your head and force feed them to you, just so you have an internal view of me disemboweling you! You creepy old bastard!" Morris seems to ignore the threat and looks to the group with a face that is entirely unphased, "she sweeps the floors... Sometimes... Anyway! The reason I had you brought here is to hear your stories, that is the only form of payment I take, and if you're willing to tell your story, you can eat, drink, and sleep here for as long as you'd like!"
Sam is reluctant to enter this tree door. "It's just not right," he complains to Elthana. "Whole spaces inside trees like that. It's why I don't use Muir's... Here we are all talking about the dangers of portals to other places and yet using one to sleep in? Now to drink in? Explain how this is different?"
Still and all, there are times when men just don't actually have a choice and have to just do as they are told. So it is that Sam hesitates but then steps over the threshold and into the tree to find Muir, Gewyn and Vin in mid chat. Sam looks around cautiously and with an appraising eye - it is indeed a nice enough establishment, he had to admit. Nicer than most of the places he worked in, drank in, fought in or did all on the same night, for sure. He nods politely enough when introductions are given by the one called Morris but only grunts out a response. When the demon starts screaming Sam takes a quick half step back and grabs his maul but quickly relaxes when he sees neither Morris or Ratosk are alarmed.
"And who are you to decide on a demon's own good?" Sam asks skeptically, still at ill ease of the situation.
"I've, uh... I have no stories worth a drink. And I do have a campsite all prepared. I really shouldn't leave that fire unattended for too long," Sam says, not wanting to step further into the establishment. "Horses need tending to, our stuff needs guarding...Someone has to make sure nobody escapes from that trunk, right?"
"done!" Says Morris with a smile, he nods to Ratosk in the rafters and the Squirrel darts off towards the door and locks the larger one. "There, now very little time will pass outside whilst you are in here. You can stay all night and it will be a matter of minutes in your realm.. and I think you have plenty of stories Sam." Morris puts a glass on the counter, the liquid within is crystal clear and cool, condensation drips down the outside of it. "Here, for you."
Griff seems to find a large sofa and sit down to snooze.
After being largely ignored, the demon walks of in a huff and goes to the opposite end if the bar to Griff, slouching in her own sofa.
Muir continues to sit and decides that he’d share a story if Morris would like to hear one “I will tell you a story if you’d like to hear one. Is there something in particular you’d like to hear?” Muir watches the demon walk off in a huff “So what is she “in” for?”
"any story that is yours and is true, that is all I ask. She is currently here to prevent her from dying, she has a job to do and a time to do it, but if she goes too early she will die again." Morris rolls his eyes, expressing the absurdity of what he just said and also casts a quick glance toward Vin and Neferox, "like I said, nothing to worry about. Here this is for you Muir" Morris pulls out a second drink, this one a thick purplish liquid contained within a wooden cup, like a hollowed out bamboo style cup.
Gewyn takes a seat and gets comfortable. "My, she IS intense, isn't she. Xazgan, was it? You simply must tell me how you grow your horns to such a luxurious length. And I suppose I've a few tales of my own I could share. I'll pay for Sam as well."
"You can't change time," Sam insists. "Time is... time!"
Sam harumphs, crosses his arms and leans into standing here annoyed for quite some time. This place is... unnatural. Sam is not happy about it one bit. Things should have the common decency to be what they are and make sense... Or be ready to have their heads caved in and out down, like the dwarves and the beasts from the trees. This... This was just sideways in a rather backwards kind of way.
"well then Gewyn, I have something here for you too" Morris pulls up a wine glass with a liquid which is pink at the bottom and orange further up, like the sky on an autumn night, topped with something frothy. " And change time? Time changes every second... Far be it for me to meddle in the time of one realm, no, no, time is going perfectly normally In your realm, we are just moving incredibly fast by relative comparison. Take Griff over there for example, how is he faring in your realm, is he tired? Sleeping alot?" Morris pulls a pint glass out with a dark blue liquid in, at the bottom of the glass is a much smaller glass submerged upside down and filled with some kind of thick gas or smoke, "here someone take him this. That'll pep him up"
Muir listens to Morris know Griff’s condition and takes a sip out of the bamboo cup “Bamboo? Sustainable and appreciated. You are correct sir. You are more than just a mere man Hmm?”
Elthana walks over, picks up the glass for Griff and head over to the aaracokra. She nudges his slightly and puts the glass near his head.
Taking the last open seat, she too listens for more explanation of the demon and turns to Sam, “Try to relax a moment, will ya?”
The demon Xazgan simply scoffs at Gewyn's compliment, even though she has distanced herself from the group, they can still hear her as she begins scratching her claws across the wooden table in front of her.
"More than a mere man, an interesting statement Indeed. The assumption that any man is 'mere' and does not have a worthy story wounds me good sir" Morris smiles, amused at his feign of taking offence, "of course some stories are more interesting than others, or I wouldn't be here, talking with you all. Yes I suppose I am more if an idea, an aspect, than I am a man. My being is determined by the idea that my purpose holds value, that being said it means that I am hard to categorise, nott really Man, nor Fiend or Fae, I am in no way a God if that was your assumption, though some do revere my purpose with zeal." Morris takes out two more drinking vessels, one is a hot brown drink in a thick brown mug, which he slides over to Vin, the other a metal cylinder the liquid inside obscured from view, left on the bar for Elthana. "So! Who would like to begin?"
"Relax?" Sam says with the grump obvious in his voice... but after a second he sighs and then leans back against the door.
"Hold on, hold on," Sam calls out when Morris asks who would like to begin. "What are the rules again? Did you say the stories had to be truthful? And belong to us? Spell that out for me, eh? Firstly, how can a story belong to anyone? Even if I told you the story of how Elthana and I first met it wouldn't be my story. It would at least be our story. Hers and mine. No? And what do you mean by truthful? Just because how I tell the story doesn't exactly match how she tells the story that doesn't make either any less true... It's just different views of what happened, eh?"
"But mostly what I am wondering... Why do you want the stories? What you going to do with them? You have a hoard of stories in a back room you stole out of peoples heads for a beer and a nap?"