The Legend Of Iron Crick

The Legend of Iron Crick: Part I: Kalaren & Egbert

Circa: Yt 6

Kalaren walked along the dusty lanes of Aragarth with his best friend, Egbert, who was busy giving Kalaren a tour of the ancient city.

"And that spot used to be a library!"  he would say, pointing to yet another tumbled down building, half patched with dark wood. "We don't use it for that anymore, though. Too drafty."

"And this was the central Barracks. We use it as the main Armory now."

"We're not sure what this building was, but it was certainly destroyed a lot, even before the rest of the city apparently was. Possibly some sort of wizard's hall."

Kalaren would nod, and listen, and always have to ask Egbert what it functioned as now, to which Egbert usually replied that he 'didn't know', or that it was for 'lots of different things!'

At one point, they passed by a very oddly blank area near the south gate. Amongst all the other closely crowded mercantile ruins, it stood out quite sorely. Large brown brambles filled the front as if trying to recreate the storefront that perhaps once existed.

"What about there?" Kalaren asked. "Surely something existed there before."

Egbert chuckled. "Yeah, that's how the legend goes!"

"What legend?"

Egbert stopped dead in his tracks and half-turned to Kalaren, clearly attempting to muster as much drama as he possibly could. Which wasn't much. "The legend... Of the GHOST TAVERN."

Kalaren crossed his arms and looked for a spot to settle down. "Oh dear. My legs are set a'quivering."

"And I haven't even mentioned the Crazy Druidess!" Egbert exclaimed as they sat down on the crumbled remains of a garden wall. "But anyway...

THE LEGEND OF THE GHOST TAVERN

"The story goes, that in the waning years of Ankoria's glory days, after the Great Sorcerer had delivered his curse, and gone on to other lands, a certain female Druid came into power, and sought to rid the land of alcohol, convinced that this would restore Ankoria to it's rightful path as the predominant power in Militiregnum. 

She had successfully convinced smaller taverns and villages around Aragarth to abstain from the twisting of nature's bounties, like hops and apples and barley, for their own senseless pleasure, and to seek the cleansing purity of abstinence. To clear their minds and hearts, and seek higher meaning in Nature instead of the bottom of a bottle.

Now seeking to truly begin her quest in earnest, she sought to convince a Prominent inner-city Tavern to join her in removing alcohol from the land. In doing so, she thought to gain a true foothold for her movement to grow across the Kingdom. So she came to Aragarth, to the Tavern here at the south-gate, and stroke up a conversation with the Barkeep.

"Barkeep!" she declared dramatically, "Tonight is the night of your atonement!"

The Barkeep, who heard accusations all-day, every-day, did not take her seriously, instead calling back over his shoulder, "And what vice can I serve you to forget about that?"

"None!" she exclaimed, throwing a fist into the air. "For I seek to set you on a better path, one towards the light of illumination and unity with Mother Nature!"

This, of course, got the attention of not only the Barkeep, but of a large majority of the people in the common room.

Upon noticing the woman's simple dark green habit, The Barkeep realized he would have to be tactful with what he said next if he didn't want a brawl. (And while he didn't mind a good bar brawl or two, he was already over-budget for furniture repair and replacement this month.)

"My dear woman, it seems you've come to the wrong place if you're looking for learned men with high and lofty thoughts. Try the Inns by the North or East gates. "

The Druidess shook her hooded head passionately, and her hood fell off. "No, humble barkeep," she whispered, smiling sweetly. "Their time shall come, but it is not tonight. Tonight is your night, to ascend to their level. You will help me to explain it to them, once you have seen the light as well."

The Barkeep smiled at the woman. She was very pretty for one in her 30's, and had long, brunette hair, but alas. If she wasn't here to eat or drink, she would have to leave.

"Ma'am, if you're trying to sell something, I'm afraid I don't have time to listen to your pitch tonight." He said, politely, picking up a tray loaded with frothy mugs. "There's plenty of other folks whom I need to serve an-"

She snagged his arm as he came around the bar, and he nearly spilled the tray.

"No, please. Listen. Your life may depend on it." She said softly, but firmly.

The Barkeep refrained from rolling his eyes. She was definitely going to try and sell him some University course or a new religion, based on the robe she was wearing and the way she was talking. He tried to gently extricate his arm while holding the tray in the other hand. 

"M'lady, I have work to do, and friends to serve, so if you do-"

"You mean seduce and poison with your atrocious concoctions?!" she suddenly shrieked, pushing him away, and knocking the tray out of his hands, causing it to spill everywhere. "You twist Mother Nature's designs with your BASE alchemy!!!" she spat.

The Barkeep stared at the broken crockery on the floorboards, watched the liquid soak into the cracks.  He heard others arguing with the Druid now as she railed about his crimes against Mother Nature, against Ankoria, against Religion, and the advancement of the Human Race. He vaguely heard his regulars defending him, their favorite Barkeep, his Tavern, themselves, and their life choices. It all faded, till one of his regulars shouted from across the room "Hey John! Should we throw this crazy quack out?"

He finally looked up, and saw the entire tavern arrayed against the one robed woman.

His quiet reply: "Yes." 

Realizing she was defeated, and baffled at this unexpected stubbornness, she proclaimed: "FINE! If you will not see the error of your ways, I will show them to you forcibly! SEE HOW YOUR CHOSEN CONCOTIONS REACTS TO THE PURIFICATION OF FIRE!" And before anyone could accost her, she conjured a fireball and threw it at the Barrels behind the bar.

For John the Barkeep, time slowed to a crawl.

As everyone dove for either the Druidess, 

or for cover, 

or, in his case, for the fireball, shiny brass tray set forth as a shield....

He saw everyone's faces, even his own, contorted in anger and hatred, reflected in the flames that the Druid threw.

The Druid's frustration-fueled magic was twisted by the dark energies in the still very recent, and therefore very potent, Sorcerer's Curse of Ankoria, and it turned her simple Fireball spell into something far, far worse. Far, far, more complex. The air shimmered, and the firey orange of the fireball turned a thousand different hues in it's brief travel towards the barrels.

Upon reaching the Barrels, the entire store of Liquor and drinks went up in flames... 

Taking the entire Tavern, and all it's current inhabitants with it."

~~~~~

"And the Tavern and all it's people were never seen or heard from ever again!" Egbert finished.

"Wow," Kalaren said. "That's... awful."

Egbert nodded. "Yup! That's the legend of the Sober Witch!"

"Not even really very scary. Just awful."

"Well... Um, yeah, I guess so."

"Like, all those people, probably had families and stuff."

"Well, it's just a legend after all. Nothing really shows that it's real. Other than the fact that there really is no trace of the Tavern, just like in the legend." Egbert said, starting to feel uncomfortable with his story.

"That's convenient," Kalaren muttered dryly.

"Anyway! Shouldn't we be getting back? I thought Wilma was making some sort of sweet bread tonight!" Egbert said, desperately trying to change the subject.

Kalaren decided to let it go. After one last jab. "Yeah, that sounds good right about now. Your story depressed me."

"Hey! It's not even my story. Old Enchanter Grimoir  told me it!" Egbert said, trying to distance himself from his poor storytelling skills as much as he could.

"Oh!" Kalaren laughed. "That explains a lot."

"When he told it, it scared the living daylights out of me."

"Lemme guess, there was thunder and lightning, and it was the dead of night."

"Um... Actually, yeah."

"Sounds like Grimoir knew how to tell a spooky story!"

"Yeah. But then again, maybe it's one of those things that comes with old age. Who knows, maybe I'll get good at it eventually!" Egbert mused.

Kalaren laughed. "Sure, Egbert. That's about as possible as me getting better with a sword as I get older!"

Egbert chuckled, and ribbed Kalaren. "Hey, I know that's not going to stop you from trying to get better, right?"

 "That's true," Kalaren acquiesced. "As long as I have a sparring partner willing to be patient with my unskilled flailing being rendered upon their impenetrable defense!"

"Always!"

~~~FIN~~~

The Legend of Iron Crick: Part II: Stirling & Thingguy

Circa Yt 7 or 8.

Stirling and Thingguy trudged through a high mountain forest. They were utterly lost.

"This is just GREAT, muttered Strider as he looked up from his map for the umpteenth time.  "This thing is utterly useless. There's no distinguishable landmarks, and it's getting dark."

Thingguy pushed a few boughs out of the way as he advanced, Stirling right behind. "It could be worse, my friend," he replied, though his brow was knitted in much the same manner as Stirling's. "It could be raining." He let go of the branches as he passed, and Stirling ducked them without looking up from the map.

Sighing, Stirling folded up the map and pulled out his compass. "I suppose heading north is our best option right now," he suggested as he caught up with and showed Thingguy the compass. "The higher we get up into the mountains, the further we can see, right?"

Thingguy scratched his shaggy ginger beard. "Not always, especially with these trees, unless you're thinking of hiking all the way past the treeline..."

Stirling shot him an impertinent look that said "You have any better ideas?"

Thingguy verbally replied. "Well, no."

So the two knights began walking through the dense mountain forest. North.

Not much later, as the last rays of the sun's light were filtering through the trees along their left, Thingguy felt a drop. Glancing sideways at Stirling, he wondered if he'd noticed. Judging by Stirling's vacant stare at the ground, and the action of putting one foot in front of the other, rising up the slope, he hadn't.  It also helped, Thingguy thought, that Strider liked to wear hooded leather cloaks so much.

However, the subsequent eardrum-shattering thunderous clap of, well, THUNDER, was hard to miss.

So too was the accompanying torrential wave of bone-soaking, pile-driving, fattest-raindrops-you've-ever-seen-in-your-life, wall-of-water, DOWNPOUR that enveloped them.

They both stopped walking for a brief moment, already soaked through all layers.

"I would curse you for jinxing us, Thingguy, but it looks like we're already cursed."

"Don't say that; that's too close to 'it can't get any worse'."

"I honestly don't see how it could."

Lightning struck a tree not 3 yards away from Stirling. 

"I stand corrected, and thank the stars above."

Thingguy was already feeling his joints begin to ache for lack of warmth. Movement was the only way they would stay warm now. 

"Looks like we're not camping tonight, Strider!" Thingguy said, having to yell as he walked to be heard over the drumming that the rain was making on his skull.

"YA THINK?!"

~~~~~

It could have been a few minutes later, or perhaps it was hours. The white noise of the rain made it hard to think. That, or maybe it was the water soaking into their already tired, mushy, drummed-on brains. Either way, both men would later be certain they were the first to spot it and point it out to the other.

A shape in the darkness. Not more vertical lines, which would indicate trees, but a mass. And in the mass, a light. Steady. Soft. In the rain.

Experienced travelers, they knew a steady, soft light that was not going out meant intelligence. A somebody, or something.  Checking their weapons of choice, they sought the light.  Soon enough, it revealed itself to be a iron-wrough lantern, mounted by a door. A door to a large, two story log cabin building!

"Looks like an inn!" Stirling yelled, his taste buds salivating for a nice body-warming brew.

"It's a godsend!" Thingguy cried, of a similar mind, throwing the door open without a second thought.

The two stumbled into the threshold, and were immediately hit by the change in warmth, smell, and reduced sound.

"Aaaaah," Sighed Thingguy.

"Aaaah," Sighed Stirling.

"Ah," sighed another voice. "Travelers. That was fast."

The two travelers in question spun around to identify the voice. It belonged to the only other person in the room, the barkeep. 

For surely, it was the barkeep. He was customarily rubbing the inside rim of a wooden tankard with a rag of questionable cleanliness. Who else does that but barkeeps? Also, he was standing behind the large, well-polished wood counter. As the only one behind there, that made him keeper of the bar. A Barkeep.

He even looked like your typical barkeep. Bushy brown hair and beard, hastily combed. Bushy eyebrows, framing soft bourbon-colored eyes. He had on a well-loved, off-white apron over a typical tunic. Behind him was a rack of 12 barrels; four across, three high, all bung-tapped.

"What can I get you two gentlemen? A drink? Rooms?"

"Drinks!" both of them cried. 

The barkeep smiled, his twinkling eyes accentuated by the crows feet around them. "I take you two for some dark ale drinkers, am I wrong?"

"Tonight, I'll take anything you've got in those barrels behind you!" Stirling cheered, as he hung his heavy rain-drenched cloak on a sturdy rack near the door. Thingguy followed suit, and the two plonked down at the bar with a gold piece each.

"Tis a variety, but I will start you all off with two dark ales," the Barkeep confirmed, as he filled two tankards.

Stirling sighed, turning to his travelling buddy. "Man, what a stroke of luck!"

Thingguy grinned. "Of course! See, these things always work out."

Stirling shoved him playfully. "For you, maybe."

"Well, that's why you stick with me!"

"Definitely not for your good looks!"

Thingguy gasped in mockery. "You're not going to insult my facial hair again?"

"That facial hair is not much more than a frozen burning bush."

"It's masculine!"

"It's a bush on your face."

"Oh, and it's better to have a 9'o'clock shadow?" Thingguy asked, pointing at Stirling's own face that was in dire need of a razor.

Stirling stroked his chin. "I like to keep it clean. It doesn't itch then." He glared at Thingguy. "Except when I look at yours!"

Thingguy turned it around on the Barkeep as he handed them their tankards. "Let's ask a third party: Good sir, what is better? A proper beard, or a baby face?"

The Barkeeper turned from one face to the other with a piercing and critical gaze. Back, and forth. Back and forth.

Suddenly, a flicker of emotions arose in the eyes of the Barkeeper.  However, he blinked twice, and and the twinkle and amusing smile was back.  "It depends!" he replied. "Are you trying to be respectable or rugged?"

"Honorable!" replied Strling

"Dependable!" announced Thingguy.

"Then you are both portraying yourselves correctly. Drink up!" The barkeeper said, turning away to some other matter.

Stirling raised an eyebrow, before turning back to Thingguy. "Smooth operator, your third party."

Thingguy just thrust his tankard forward in toast, to which Stirling responded in kind, knocking them together before they tilted them back to drain them.

From the side, the Barkeeper watched them carefully...

His gut told him that these were good men. Rough, yes. But kind. He wouldn't let them finish the barrels. Not before he knew more about them. The price was too high to be uncertain. But perhaps... Perhaps if they turned out to be good people... they knew those who were not. Those who *did* deserve to pay the price...

All this was assuming that he knew the price. 

He'd let them have a few more drinks. Then start asking questions.

~~~~

Stirling and Thingguy were thoroughly impressed with this inn. It had some of the best spirits they'd ever tasted. And they'd tasted quite a few in their travels.

"Say! Barkeeper!" Stirling said as the man refilled his tankard for a third time. "I'm afraid we didn't catch your name."

"John. You can call me John," John replied casually.

Stirling rose his cup to John. "Got a last name, John?"

"Smith. But please, call me John."

Thingguy rose his cup as well. "To John!"

The wooden tankards met again with a 'Klonk!' and the two drank to John's health.

"Aaah. John, your establishment is the best we've ever been, isn't that right, Thingguy?" Stirling asked.

"That's what we were just saying!" confirmed Thingguy.

"What I can't understand is, 'Why arn't you more busy???" Stirling said.

John smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid your my first customers in a very long time. I'm just so... remote, I suppose."

Stirling raised an eyebrow as he began fishing into his pack.

"Really?" Thingguy asked, leaning over the bar. "Well, that may be true. Where's the nearest town from here, you'd say?"

Stirling fished out the map and unrolled it on the bar. He pointed at the Northern mountain range of the Athelas Mounts "We're 'round here somewheres," he muttered. "Seems to me like the middle of the wilderness."

John leaned over and 'Hmmm'ed deeply. "Well, which way did you two come upon me?" he asked.

Thingguy put two fingers on the map and walked it up from the south to the north. "Thataway."

"Well that explains it!" John replied. "There's a small logging camp just north of here, but there's no one there now. They've gone away for the season. Back down-- I mean, up- to Aquila." He added.

Stirling hiccuped. "Ah. I see."

"But tell me, what brings you two veteran travelers so far into the mountains this year?" John asked.

Stirling turned to Thingguy with a questioning contorting of his face. "Hrrrmmm?"

Thingguy shrugged languidly.

Stirling motioned back with his tankard and began drinking.

Thingguy shrugged again and turned back to John. "We're looking to get to Aquila. Hoping to find some allies."

"Allies?"

"Or news on my family," Stirling said, having drained his tankard.  He looked at the bottom of the wooden vessel before looking up at John. "Have anything stronger?"  

Thingguy nodded. "I'm matching whatever he's having." He took a moment to listen to the weather outside. "It sounds like we're shut in for awhile yet."

John nodded jovially to Stirling and turned around, snagging a new tankard and filling it from a different tankard on the wall behind him. "I don't expect it will get any better, Sir Thingguy," he replied. 

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

Turning back and sliding the tankard down past Thingguy to Stirling, and filling a second one for Thingguy, he sighed. "Oh, just a feeling."

Stilring and Thingguy looked at each other, and both shrugged. 

"You get weather like this often?" Stirling asked. 

"All the time," was John's reply. He handed Thingguy his tankard and the two patrons drank.

As they brought them down, not quite able to finish the stiffer stuff in one go, John stood right in front of them pouring a small cup of the same drink himself.  

"You two must have some fascinating stories."

Thingguy grinned stupidly. "Oho? What makes you think that?"

John took a dainty sip, as if he was drinking tea. "A few things. One is your camaraderie. Another is your collective battle scars. Another is your apparent ability to hold your liquor."

Stirling raised his eyebrows yet again. "Yer a very osbervant type, John..." 

John shrugged. "It comes with practice."

Thingguy nodded. "You defin'tly seem the type to have practice."

The Barkeeper shrugged again, before listening to a thunderous crack of lightning.  "As you said before, Sir Thingguy, it seems we will be stuck in here a while. Why don't you regale a bored old barkeep with a story of your heroism?" He set down his 'tea' and rummaged underneath the bar, pulling out a menu. "It would earn you some free appetizers!" he said, pointing at the menu.

Thingguy laughed. "Ah, very well, John Smith! I shall regale you with a tale from Elephaira!" 

~~~~

It happened a few years back, that I, Sir Thaddeus Nathanael Thingguy, the Second Thing of Guys, found myself walking the south road into Elephaira, when I met a strange old woman sat upon the side of the road. She was dressed in black rags, and held out a beaten oil lamp without it's lid. 

 "Asseblief, meneer. Het u enige geld wat u kan spaar vir 'n arme vrou?" 'she asked. 

 Clearly, she was asking for money. I searched my pockets, and found a small copper coin of Morcia. "M'lady, I'm afraid the only currency I have is of Morcia, but you are welcome to it!" I said gallantly. I showed her the copper coin, and she simply stared, pushing the oil lamp forward. 

That's when I realized the woman was blind. So I dropped the copper into the battered oil lamp and... it made a wet, plooping sound.

Then...

~~~~

Thingguy stopped his story. "You'll never guess what she did next, this crazy lady."

Stirling blinked heavily as he munched on a chicken wing. "Did she fish for the coin in the lamp oil?"

John pursed his lips. "Or perhaps light the oil?" Then he held up a finger. "Is that 'ploop'ing sound even oil?"

Thingguy shook his head at the first two guesses and shrugged at John's last one. "We'll never know, because then...

~~~~

...she turned the lamp around three times in her hands, muttering under her breath, before putting the spout in her mouth and draining the contents of the lamp!

So surprised was I that I simply stared at her in confusion and, I'll admit, slight curiosity.

A few awkward throaty gulps later, she smacked her gums and sighed. 

" Dankie, reisiger. 'U weet nie hoe lank ek nie gedrink het nie!" She chattered happily.

I was very confused still, and I tried to get a look into the lamp, and from what I could glimpse, it was entirely empty. No liquid, no coin.

"M'lady..." I began, but she interrupted me.

"Het u toevallig meer muntstukke?" she asked, putting the lamp forth again.

I felt in my pockets. Well, yes, I did happen to have more coins... but did I really want to throw it away to see this phenomena once more?

Yes. Yes I did. 

So I pulled out a single gold coin, decided not to think about it too deeply, and plonked it into the lamp. Once again, it made a wet sound instead of a tinny sound, and the woman greedily drank. 

Only this time, the effect was noticeable.

Before my very eyes, the old woman became... a younger one.

"Aaaaah." She blinked, and her eyes were clear and gray, with long eyelashes. 

She smiled wide, showing her clean, straight, white teeth. "Geagte meneer, u het die lewe aan my teruggegee. Laat my toe om die guns terug te gee. "

I will admit, I was impressed, though extremely cautious. I watched her carefully as she took off a strange necklace that she wore, with little bitty bones and feathers tied all along it. She proffered it towards me, and I reached out a hand. As much as to stop her from putting it on me as to accept it.

She began speaking quickly, but reverently, apparently explaining something about the necklace. "Hierdie ketting bestaan uit die bene en vere van die klein voogde van die Olifante. Die bosluisvoëls." She pooled it into my hands and clasped both of mine over it. "Ek wil hê jy moet dit hê. Dit sal u beskerm." 

I watched her intently, looking for any hidden malice. But I could find none. So I smiled back and said thank you. Then, she turned, whistled, and seemingly out of the middle distance came a single gazelle-like creature, with long, straight horns. Without stopping, it loped past the woman, who used her newfound grace and agility to swing onto it, leaving me there with her gift... and a very interesting tale to boot!

~~~~

Thingguy finished his tale, and his drink.

Stirling leaned back, having already lost count of how many wings he'd eaten or how many drinks he'd imbibed. "Allright. So where's the necklace?"

"Pardon?"

"Where's the necklace that this woman gave you?"

"Oh!" Thingguy patted himself down, trying to remember where he might have put it. 

John blinked languidly as he too sipped from a tankard that he had traded his cup for at some point during Thingguy's story.  "If it's a necklace, arn't you wearing it around your neck?"

Thingguy shook his head, and instantly regretted it, moaning from the dizziness it brought on. "Oof. No. It smells funny and it's rather prickly with those feathers and bones. Aha!"

Having taken off his boot, he unlooped the thrice-looped necklace from his sock-wearing ankle. "here it is!" he said, holding it aloft.

John politely coughed and leaned away from the Bar. "Smells like feet and dead pigeons."

"Bosluisvoëls, actually. Tick-Birds."

Stirling leaned forward. "Good Lord, that does smell offensive." He examined the tiny bones and downy feathers. "Though I have to say, those bones are definitely not pigeons."

"Ha!" Thingguy exclaimed. "Of course not; why do you doubt me!" he grinned. "I actually found a dead tickbird later and was able to compare the bones. That's how I know."

Stirling nodded. "That's a good story."

John waved a hand at the necklace. "Please put that thing away before some of it gets in the chicken wings."

Thingguy chuckled, and wrapped it back around his ankle. "Ah, very well."

Finding it safe for his nose to lean forward onto the bar again, John followed Thingguy's gaze back down to his boot. "So, has it done you any good?"

Thingguy shrugged. "Not that I know of."

Stirling snorted. "Sounds like superstition to me... Then again..."

"She performed magic, right in front of my eyes, Stirling," Thingguy said. "I have more than just superstitious reasons to hang on to this thing."

Stilring seemed unconvinced, but didn't say anything further.

John turned to Stirling. "What about you? Do you have any good stories?"

Stirling tossed a arm up into the air. "Bah! Of course!" He slammed the tankard onto the bar. "Hit me with another, and I'll regale you with a tale from Somna, city on a hill!"

~~~~

If you take the south road from Orlan, you will come to a three-way crossroads, with roads going North, South, and West. Northwest of this crossroads is a walled city on a hill. This is Somna, and where my story begins.

I had only arrived in town at the break of dawn, one of the first into the gates of the city, to spend a single day getting some simple supplies, and intended to leave the morning after. Having successfully traded my various furs, rare herbs and spices, and other such trading goods for what I needed, I once again considered getting a horse... But found it too expensive, both in the long and short run, as always. 

Instead, I decided to enjoy a civilized drink at the local inn with the small amount of coin my shrewd trading had afforded me.  Besides, after this, I didn't plan on being anywhere that coin would do me good for at least... oh, perhaps a month or so. Better to spend it while I was in town so it wouldn't be lost on me in the wild.

A few random pollings later from people on the street, and the word was that the 'Ant Hill Inn' was the best in town. With various mostly matching directions, I made my way there.

Stepping into the main room of the Inn, it was certainly a prosperous business. And eyeing a dark corner, I saw all that I would need to enjoy a drink by myself.  

Catching the eye of a serving girl, I motioned towards the corner. She nodded briefly with a fake, but well-practiced, smile, and continued bustling around. 

I made my way to the corner, and sat down, taking my boots off and generally making myself comfortable, even as I viewed the room for anyone who might take offense at my distinctly out-of-towner-appearance. No one gave me more than a glance. Perhaps they thought I was a trapper. Which, to be fair, was at least partially right.

Eventually, the serving girl came over.

"What can I get you, stranger?" she asked, very sweetly. 

"Just a dark ale, miss," I said evenly.

"Oh. Is that all?" she seemed surprised.

"That's all."

"Very good, sir." She seemed to pause and hover for a moment... A moment that was threatening to bring attention to me. 

She leaned forward. "Are you watching for someone?"

I rolled my eyes underneath my hood. "No, I just like to people-watch."

"Oh..." she said. "Sorry, I thought I might be able to help."

"Just get that drink, ma'am," I replied.

She nodded and hurried off.

~~~~

Stirling took a moment to quaff some of his drink. 

"Eventually, she came back with the drink, and though it wasn't as good as this one right here, it was certainly very good, seeing as it had been a long time since I'd been in a civilized town."

John accepted the compliment graciously, and the two toasted while Strider continued.

~~~~

Unlike today, where I'm with you fine fellows, stuck here for Heaven knows how long, I knew I'd be leaving the morning of. So I had to be alert and aware. So I sipped my large dark ale slowly, enjoying it, and relaxing. I eventually put my feet up in the corner, once I was certain I had become nothing more than another part of the scenery to those around me.

The general mix of people in the room was interesting. Mostly made of middle-class workers and shop owners, with a few more low-class laborers and the occasional easygoing aristocrats. It was a decent crowd. Loud, but not rowdy. Only one scuffle occurred while I watched, and it was quickly taken out back.

As I neared the end of my drink, I became aware of someone's eyes analyzing me as I had been analyzing everyone else this whole time.

It took me a few moments to locate the source of this piercing gaze... Then I saw them.

Across the way, in the much smaller shadow of a lit wall-sconce near the door. Two golden eyes glowed from the dark cowl of a coarse brown hooded robe. Out of the darkness flowed a great white beard, and a gnarled hand held a thick... tree branch. 

I couldn't bring myself to call it a staff. It still had leaves and twigs on it. Almost like he had just plucked it off of a tree that morning at the latest.

Nevertheless, his 'staff', such as it was, did not hold my gaze like those two golden glowing dots that must have been his eyes. We stared at each other, me discovering all those details I just told you, while he.... stared unblinking. 

Then he got up, and walked out, and I noted that his robe was of proper length, of a very coarse cloth, perhaps burlap, and that he wore sandals that were little more than leather scraps wrapped around his ancient, dusty, bare feet.

Clearly, he wanted me to follow him.

Finishing my drink, I figured I had no other pressing matters, and I was curious. Grabbing my things and leaving a decent, but not overtly memorable, tip, (because the woman had been kind enough to leave me be once she realized that's what I wanted, and I appreciated that,) I strode purposefully out.

Cursing myself for not noting which way the old man had exited, I glanced in both directions down the street.

There he was, turning left down my left.  

I power-walked down the lane, and around the corner. There was no reason to hide, since he knew I was following him anyway. So long as we were in the open, any attack would be foolish, since it would alert the guards.  

That's when I saw the mysterious brown-robed man glance back to make sure I was there. I scowled at him, annoyed that his hood hid his features so well. I knew that my own hood didn't do as good a job, and wondered how he did that, especially with such a thin and cheap cloth.

He hurried on for about three blocks, while I tried to casually catch up with him. However, he successfully remained ahead of me, and I was not concerned enough yet to break into a full run and risk a scene. He was honestly very limber for someone his age. If I had even assumed his age correctly, which was unlikely.

Nevertheless, he suddenly ducked into an alley behind a bakery, and I smiled, believing him trapped.

Quickening my pace, I turned the corner with a grim smile, only to be met with an entirely different scene from what I had expected.

"No! Leave me alone!"

"We will, if you just hand over the shiny! Won't we, George?"

"Suuuure we will, Wikken!"

Amid the trash at the end of this alley, two boys were kicking a third, curled up into a tight ball, hugging something to his chest.

"No! I f'nds 'et, et's mine!" the third, younger boy cried out, before yelping as 'Wikken' rammed a shoed heel into his unprotected shins.

" 'You founds it' what a load of donkey-dung!" he barked harshly. "We all know you stole it from my Uncle's Pawn Shop!" He kicked the supposed thief in the shins again. "Now hand it over; it's worth more than your life."

"Yeah!" added 'George'.

It appeared that none of the boys had noticed me, or the old man enter the alleyway wherever he was. 

Glancing around for where the old man might have gone, all I saw were boxes, trash, and two backdoors on either side of the alley, leading into businesses, presumably.

Annoyed, I put aside my chase for the mysterious old man and directed my attention towards the boys. At least this I could fix immediately.

"Hey!" I called, instantly regretting my approach. 

All three boys sprang up like the guilty miscreants they probably all were. 

I smiled grimly, noting how the light from the street silhouetted me. Maybe this wasn't such bad approach.

I put my hand on my hilt.

"Is there a problem here, children?"

"Are you a guard?" asked the one called George.

"Don't be silly, George, he doesn't have a uniform," Wikken said.

"I don't think we need a guard to handle this mess, do we?" I asked. "What seems to be the problem?"

The third boy slowly got up, wincing as he did. In his hands was a very large... emerald? Even in the shadows of the alley, light was caught and reflected in it. It was almost as big as the young boy's head.

"I f'nd dis in an alley, an' these two's says et's theirs, but 'et ain't!" 

I took a hard look at the three. The supposed thief was wearing rags, and was clearly a street urchin. His skin was mottled with dirt, grime, cuts, bruises... in this light, I couldn't tell what his ethnicity was. The other two were clearly more mid-class citizens of the city, wore decent clothes, and had bathed some time in the past three days.

"Naw!" yelled Wikken. "You stole it from my Uncle's Pawn shop, then tried to stash it in your filthy rat house when I found ya!"

"Actually, I found him, and then went and told ya," George said.

"Right, whatever," Wikken said with a wave. "Point is, this gutter trash is a thief!" he said to me, pointing an accusatory finger of doom at the younger kid with the gem. "Help me arrest him!"

I let go of my sword and strode forward. The two clean ones stepped to the sides, while the third shrank back, tripped on some trash, and fell back gently into the various offensively-smelling trash piled up against the back of the alley. 

He must have only been 8 or 10. His big, wide eyes reminded me of puppies.

"Et's no'fair," he whispered. "I f'nds et, et's mine." He hugged the gem tightly like a normal child would hug an overstuffed teddy bear.

I looked down at the emerald. There was something off about it... but I couldn't place what it was. The way it played with the light wasn't quite right. But whatever was off about it, it certainly looked like a large, polished and cut, green emerald.

I put a large hand on top of the Emerald, and the kid whimpered and tensed.  I caught a glint of anger in his eyes.

"Did you take this gem?" I asked in a low growl.

The kid froze, his shaking stopped.

I repeated the question. "Did you take this gem from somewhere it didn't belong?"

The kid shook his head violently. "No."

"You expect me to believe you found this lying in some trash in an alley?"

The kid nodded. "Yas. Was in a bux. Th'own out'a w'ndow I fink."

I glanced down at his feet, finding cut marks that could have been from glass... or any other number of things. "Why do you think that?"

"Glass and stuff efr'yware."

"Stuff and nonsense! Bunk!" Yelled Wikken behind me. "That window was where he escaped from my Uncle's shop! Ain't that right, George?"

"Yup! That's what I heard and when I went to go look, and then I saw him and went to tell you! That was earlier today!"

I turned back on the other two, watching them. They didnt' seem to be lying. In fact, none of them seemed to be.

I turned back to the kid. "I don't believe any of you," I said, so they could all hear, though I kept eye contact with the kid. "Here's how we're going to resolve this."

I stood up. "We're going to your Uncle's shop. What's it called?"

The two kids didn't seem to like that I was getting involved, but a slight frown and glare from underneath my hood, and Wikken bent. "The Ritzy Rat."

~~~~

Strider paused his story. "Are you all with me so far?"

The other two were getting quite drowsy, but the incessant sound of hail on the roof was keeping them awake.

John nodded. "Why yes, I am. It's a mystery, which I am not very fond of, but I am still with you. Why don't we move to the couch though? I'm getting tired of standing, and I'm sure your rears are getting permanent indentations of my barstools.

The three stumbled their way to some couches by a roaring fireplace.

John sighed as he sank into an armchair. "Much better."

His two patrons muttered dreamily in agreement.

Thingguy waved an arm at Strider. "You were in the middle of telling your mystery."

"Oh! Right."

~~~~

Well, I knew where the Ritzy Rat was, having dealt there once a few months back and decided to never go back again as the owner had tried to swindle me out of the price that he himself had named for my furs...The three of us garnered a few odd looks as we walked to the Ritzy Rat. I had a single firm hand on the street Urchin (who had the gem bulging under his shirt,) and Wikken. George followed behind, as I'd suspected he'd willingly do.

It was getting very dark and shops were just closing up as we arrived. Of course, it was just my luck that we would run into the owner closing up the shop as we came up...

"Uncle!" Wikken chuckled nervously as he zipped ahead out of my grasp. "It's good to see you. You'll never believe the kind of day I've had."

"Oh?" the Uncle replied with a bored, tired tone. "Did you get into any trouble?"

"Trouble? No! Nooo..." 

Just then, the uncle noticed us.  "Wikken...?" he said, his voice tremulous. I wasn't sure if he noticed me or not.

"Uncle, this is what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Who are these raggedy people?"

I increased my grip on the street urchin. "Show him."

The kid hesitated for a brief moment, while my grip strengthened. Then the kid slid the gem out from under his shirt and yelled, pointing the gem at the other two.

Suddenly, the emerald flashed a stabbing mint green light, and I couldn't see anything. I had a strange sense of falling, before roughly landing on something that sounded metallic. Scrambling to get up, I also heard the kid's panicked breathing to my left. Reaching out, I grabbed what I thought was his ankle before I heard and felt another minty-fresh, green flash. 

Falling once again, I reached out with my other hand and pulled the kid closer. I tried to yell, but found that there was no such thing as noise in existence.

Come to think of it, there was nothing.  

Not even an existence to exist in. 

Some subconscious part of me knew that the kid must be there, but I couldn't see. Couldn't hear, couldn't feel. Couldn't even smell the kid. And I surely wasn't going to find out if I could taste him.

Suddenly, my existence was thrust back upon me, and we were rolling around in the dirt of Somna again at the feet of a hysteric Pawn Shop owner.

"Get them away! Get it away!" the uncle was yelling as he skittered away from me and the kid.

The kid rolled away from me before looking at the gem in his hands in awe and terror. Then he looked at me.

"Et's cursed! Cursed Trwasure!" he screamed, before disappearing in another flash of minty-green, fresh-smelling light.

Needless to say, the guards were coming down upon all of us. 

I slowly stood up as the guards were running over. 

Locking eyes with the Uncle, I whispered, "At least 20 dudebucks if you get me out of this."

What followed was lots of questioning, and a few tense moments were I thought they might detain me... but I was able to leave town, and I have a job at the Ritzy Rat as a '4th cousin, once removed', if I ever end up in Somna again. Also, I ended up just giving him what remained of my coinage, which ended up being the equivalent of 32 dudebucks. 

~~~~

Stirling sighed, glad to have finished his story.

The others, however, didn't' seem to believe it was over.

"So then... What was the emerald?" John asked.

"Did you ever find out what happened to the kid?" Thingguy asked.

Stirling shrugged. "Dunno." When he saw the surly looks they gave him, Strider added some more information. "The Pawn shop owner said he'd acquired the gem from a customer, had liked it until he found out it was magic, and then he'd been spooked by it and thrown it out the window. I guess the kid really had found it in the alley later, and the other kids understandingly jumped to conclusions when they found him with a gem that they knew belonged to the pawn shop, if however briefly."

Thingguy raised his nose into the air. "Your story doesn't have a souvenir like mine does," he sniffed.

It took Stirling a second to understand what that had to do with anything. "Oh. No, I guess not. Not unless we detoured to Somna at some point." Stirling waved in the general direction of what he thought was south. "'s the only edivence I've got."

Thingguy followed Stirling's uncoordinated wave, which led his eyes to fall on John.

"How 'bout you, John? If you just sit and listen to travelers all the time, do you have any favorite stories?"

John blinked a few times and tore his attention from the fireplace. "Hmm? Stories? Me?"

"Yeah, any favorites you've heard?"

John stared at Thingguy, and suddenly, Thingguy felt like he was being scrutinized for... Something. John's gaze had inexplicably become tight, beady, unfriendly. Almost accusing. 

"John?" Thingguy asked, his voice uncertain. Stirling looked over. 

"John?" seconded Stirling.

John's gaze snapped around, and Stirling found himself under the piercing gaze of the barkeeper, who was now standing over him.

Surprised, Stirling stared back, attempting to match those eyes, but he found that he could not. He tried to look at Thingguy, but also inexplicably couldn't do that either. It's like his eyes were magnets, and they were depolarized from everything!

"What is his problem?!" Stirling asked, panic rising in his chest.

"WHOM HAVE YOU KILLED?" John boomed.

"What the heck!?" Stirling yelped, his voice trembling like it hadn't in years.

"Dude, same!" Thingguy exclaimed, getting up from his seat.

John turned back to Thingguy, and in the blink of an eye, Thingguy was back in his seat as well.

"WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK?"

Thingguy couldn't look anywhere but the Barkeeper's terrifying visage. It held him in an invisible vice-like grip.

"I seek allies! Allies to overthrow thedude!" Thingguy exclaimed. 

John switched back to Strider. "YOUR ANSWER." 

With John's strange gaze on Thingguy, Stirling had been able to lock onto Thingguy, during which, he gave a glance filled with confusion and concern. However, upon seeing Thingguy's willingness to answer, and not seeing they had much choice, Stirling decided to follow suit. 

Just as well, since once John turned back to him, his eyes now were drawn to the fierce, terrifying, judgmental grimace of the Barkeeper.

"Many people," Stirling answered. "Many things. Many monsters. I once destroyed a whole town of monsters."

"WHY."

"Because they would have killed others. I'm a protector of the innocent, I can't let that happen."

Now John turned back to Thingguy. 

"WHO IS THEDUDE."

"Who is.... You don't-"

"ANSWER."

Stirling answered. "He's the current ruler, but an evil tyrant who harms those who don't bend to his will. We need to overthrow him if there is to be lasting peace."

"Also," added Thingguy. "It is my personal duty to see him dethroned."

"WHY."

"Because..." Thingguy paused, finally able to drop his gaze from John, who just stood there, switching his gaze between the two warriors, emanating an entirely opposite aura from when they'd first met him.

"Because I failed to stop him before," he said quietly.

There was a quiet pause where the only sounds were of the raging storm outside. Thunderclaps, hail, incessant rain, and screaming wind... all muted by the crackling, cackling fire.

John turned to Stirling, and said in a low, rumbling voice, "Have you ever killed something that wasn't a monster?"

To this question, Strider frowned. "...Yes."

"Have you ever regretted killing someone?"

"Yes."

"How do you judge if someone deserves death?"

Stirling figured this was where the questions were leading. He was ready. "If they intend to kill others, I will kill them first. Live by the sword, die by the sword."

"Is thedude one of these people?"

""Yes"" replied both of the travelers.

There was a silence. Suddenly, John sighed, and the tenseness in the room physically left.

"From what I can tell, you are both good men. I cannot let you stay." He said, his voice returned to normal.

Both Thingguy and Stirling didn't know what to say, so John Smith continued.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you so, but I had to be certain." He held up a hand to stop the two from accusing him. "If you are still willing, I will tell you my tale. Though I am uncertain of how much more time we have, it will explain all of the questions you have acquired tonight, and some that you hadn't thought of, as I've done my best to keep the truth hidden from you. Wild as it is." 

Thingguy and Strider glanced at each other from across the coffee table, one couch to another. 

Thingguy shrugged. Stirling winced.

"One thing first! Actually, two things." Thingguy said. 

John nodded, almost abashed in his attitude now.

"Are you a magic-user?"

John gave a pained smirk. "Not exactly. I can't manipulate magic myself, if that's what you're worried about. I can't use it to fight you."

Stirling pointed an accusing finger. "But you do have some sort of magic, don't you?"

"Some sort. Again, my tale would explain all."

Thingguy nodded. "Right, well I for one want to hear it. But first, that second item."  Thingguy stood up, staggered to the wall, and pointed at the bar. "I need some bread if I'm going to follow another whole story."

The other two heartily agreed, and the whole party made their way around the bar and into the very excellently laid out kitchen, worthy of preparing the most sumptuous feasts for hundreds of people.

Finding some nice bread and butter in the equally fantastic pantry, the travelers found seating and insisted John tell the story here.

Stirling sat on a chair made of crates of apples, while Thingguy lounged in a pile of potato sacks.  John, having not drunk quite as much as his patrons like the brilliant barkeeping professional he seemed to be, still had enough clarity to stand, albeit with the occasional hand darting out to a shelf to steady himself.

"My story begins in Ankoria, in the year 1016 AF. I was the owner of a brand new inn, and very proud of it.....

~~~~