Storyteller Anon All In One

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Summary: Anon had adventured across this new world for years, and has reached old age. Still wanting to travel the world but having no money to do so Anon tells stories to get food at each stop while visiting old friends. The traditions, social norms, and political relations of each race are explored followed by Anon telling a story.
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>Countless years have passed since you first arrived.
>Your body has long turned old and gray, and all it has left is the energy to move.
>It had been tested and bruised many times over since then.
>A new land you sought to explore filled with excitement and danger.
>You’ve escaped beasts and traps; bested gods and kings.
>Through strength, wits, and a lot of luck you survived to this day.
>Although those times are long since gone the love of travel has never left.
>And so your journey continues.

>Your aged body wasn’t good for much.
>No services to perform for your daily bread.
>There was little left to who you once were, but your voice stayed strong.
>And so you wandered the lands on words and stories.
>Not of yourself or your deeds in this familiar realm, but of those greats from home.

>The minuotaur kingdom was filled with the regular homes and huts, but the center was always the tavern.
>It’s light embered glow signaling out to the night, a beacon of the towns delight.
>Your withered form made its way down the dirt path, the cheers and jeers inside ringing out.
>With a shove of the wooden door you made your way in, presenting yourself and your unkempt attire
>Little paid notice to your entrance as the minotaurs are a rowdy sort.
>They prize strength and individuality and fill the night with boasts and claims.
>But a few do take notice, and the dominos begin to tumble.

>Hushed tones and whispers carry on till silence as they watch you shuffle to your place.
>Some minotaurs made way, some moved from their seats.
>One offered a helping hand which you wordlessly took, and sat you down by the fire.

>As one of a kind every being had heard at least rumors of your name.
>The adventures of the past helped fuel its flight, and it soon touched each domain.
>But when it comes to reverence your deeds are none too great.
>For they have heard the tale of your words, and that is why they wait.


“A drink please.”
>A soft and humble request, which is silently acted upon and soon you are ready to begin.
>You take in your audience as each story must be chosen and changed on a whim.
>What type of story for these minotaurs?

“I tell a tale of love and pride, of beauty and anger, and how it can bring the downfall of entire nations.”
>It almost seems unfair to stand on the shoulders of such giants, but sharing their works is the highest respect.
“A great war had ended, the foe beaten by a great alliance of strong and noble houses. A celebration followed a feast of food and drink. There the youngest son of one of the houses caught a glimpse of the most striking of women. He knew he must have her, and so wooed her through the night. She spoke of returning his affection, but she was already married to one of the kings. Undeterred he devised a scheme that night…”

>It was not the original beginning to the story, but it had to be appropriate for them.
>Gods and goddesses were not seen as vain and petty, and so your audience had to be connected with another way.

“The eldest son of the same house was a strong and renowned warrior. His prowess was so great that rumors spread he was actually a son of the gods. He had been tested in battle much before, and after learning what his brother had done knew he would soon be tested again.”

>Your minotaur audience was already picking sides, not of war parties but of characters.
>As you watched their expressions you could find subtle changes as the story went on.

“The young Paris stood atop the great walls of Troy staring out at the great host besieging the city.
‘What will we do brother, they have many allies against us and the heroes Achilles and Odysseus.’
‘Let them crash against our walls like waves. It will do them nothing for we have the blessings of the Lord of the Sea.’
And it was true; the Greeks bled themselves dry trying to breach the walls.”


>Your listener’s eyes narrowed slightly when Paris came up and their ears leaned in a little closer when Hector was addressed.
>The same happened with Agamemnon and Achilles, their love for the warrior and hate for the fool.

“As Hector left the safety of the walls to face Achilles he was uncertain of his fate. They were a pair of great warriors, but one was spurred by grief and vengeance while he sought only to protect his home. Battle erupted as Achilles and his Myrmidons charged into Hector and the troops of Troy. They had sought each other out as the men clashed around them, the clangs of bronze ringing in the air. Their shields each bore great marks, symbols of their house, and the signs of strained battle. Both the Greeks and Trojans watched the two groups clash unable to look away from the spectacle. Then all fell silent as Achilles’ spear pierced Hector clean through.”

>You had hit the big climax, but the story was far from over.
>Still you took the time to revel in the looks of the crowd.
>They were torn between pride and grief, their hearts clearly had sunk.
>Although both were great warriors only one could stand in the end.
>While the minotaurs respected that they were still saddened to see him go.

“Achilles claimed his enemy’s body for his own as the Trojans fled the field. His rage far from sated he abused the corpse and defaced the body. He dragged it along the ground at great speeds for days as he rode out his anger. Still it was never enough as his close friend was forever gone. As the loss of his friend pained Achilles, so did the display of their fallen hero pain the Trojans.”

>To present Achilles as a hero and a villain, that is the challenge.
>He acts on emotion and ends up doing unsightly things, but that is a part we all connect with.
>And as the plight of the city is displayed, it serves a reminder to the audience that Achilles’ actions are distasteful no matter the situation.


“In the dead of night Hector’s father, the very king of Troy, leaves the city and approaches Achilles in the Greek camp. He honors Achilles despite the pain of his loss, and at the same time weeps for his fallen son. Achilles’ rage finally settles as the two share the pains of this war. Hector’s body is returned to his father, and the King of Troy returns with it to the city. Both the Greeks and the Trojans recognize a day of mourning for their dead.”

>Hours have passed since you began, and you had enjoyed their hospitality.
>While you sat silently by the fire, warm and with a full belly, the whispers slowly began to rise once more.
>”What happened next?”
>Rising to your feet you look on to the crowd.
>Their expecting faces are met with the cracking of your tired bones as you prepare yourself to leave.
“That my friends, is a tale for another time.”

Source: The Iliad
http://classics.mit.edu/Homer/iliad.html
Origin: Greek

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>The minotaur kingdom bordered the Grand Mountains with some villages climbing into the foot hills.
>Their neighbors, the Griffons, took residence closer to the peaks and the two had a long intertwined history.
>Although they had much in common the prideful nature of each had caused friction in the past.
>Battles and skirmishes were fought, and in time this grew into a respected rivalry.
>Once they had learned of the other races an alliance was formed, and much trade passes between these cliffs.

>The chill and strain of the high altitudes rattled your bones.
>Your frail form forced to follow the trade lanes.
>Despite their use these paths were notoriously dangerous, and it was often safer to make your own path.
>Once you would scale the mountain, but that strength no longer remained.

>Dragons inhabited the areas between the top and bottom of the Grand Mountains, and preyed on the caravans.
>There were also rumors of a diamond dog clan raiding the traders as well, both looking for loot.
>The caravans were never easy prey though; the guards and traders were some of the fiercest beings you’ve known.
>It was seen as an honor to serve as a trader due to the dangers, a position worthy of high rank.

>Disguises were also used to minimize attacks.
>Covered wagons hide the precious objects from a Dragon’s sight and were painted mundane colors as to not draw their interest.
>A dragon is smart enough to understand the ruse, but without seeing the goods they cannot determine if it is worth their time.
>The tactic uses a dragon’s own pride against it.
>But the mundane colors of your clothes do not offer the same advantage.


>Fame worked both ways, and your unique shape left little to question.
>Dragon’s have confronted you before, seeking you as the treasure.
>To paraphrase such a dragon “You will be a fine prize for my hoard.”
>You almost ended up married to one during a game of wits in a bid to escape.
>Well marriage might be too nice of a term.
>It was a good thing the game was just a distraction.

>You had since asked the minotaurs if it would be possible to get a pair of fake horns to fool the dragons, but they made it clear that it would be a sign of disrespect.
>The horns of a minotaur are their pride, a natural telling of their character.
>A minotaur with damaged horns had either been shamed or survived the most trying of circumstances.
>You’re unsure how they do it, but every minotaur could tell which was the case.
>And so you carry on with your tempered pace.
>One step occupying fear, the other a burning desire to travel.

>As the climb gets steeper and steeper your walking stick drives deeper into the ground.
>It had been so long since you last saw the Griffons.
>Their cities were more like forts with strong stone walls.
>They appeared impervious to attack, but the truth was they were still exposed.
>The walls worked against their one time enemy the minotaurs, but the various fliers and spell casters paid no mind to them.
>Patrols had to be regularly sent out to keep the skies clear.
>Only once had you seen a Griffon patrol engage a dragon in the air.
>It was quick and ruthless with both sides leaving wounded, but at the same time it was majestic.

>A shadow passes through you, and for a moment it is unclear whether it is real or just a memory.
>The resounding thud of beast on stone quickly awakens your mind to the truth.


>”Ah Anonymous the Human. A good find on this hunt.”
>The ancient dragon leered in with its slit eyes, the scars of countless battles scattered on its thick hide.
>”You travel my lands and make use of my road. You must pay my toll for doing so or be eaten.”
>The gaze of a predator found you, an unnerving sight to be sure.
>Yet you had faced similar instances from your own people.
>Remain calm and present confidence while preparing for the worst.
>That is what it had taught you.

“Dragon, what is the price of your toll? If you know my name you know I also have no worldly goods.”
>The dragon gave thought to your words, something that made you hope your hips could survive a mad dash down the mountain.
>For all their strength it was the clever dragons to worry about.
>”I have no use for your clothes or your little stick, but I have heard of your words. If you can entertain me I shall let you pass. Otherwise you will be but a snack.”

>A story for a dragon?
>An ancient one at that.
>They embody strength and wits in equal measure, alongside pride and greed.
>Many stories twist fate for those vices, but that may anger the dragon.
>Let’s try for a thief.

“Very well dragon, I tell the tale of my friend the Black Thief who had escaped certain doom many times over.”
>Using the walking stick as leverage you sat down on a large rock.

“Long ago there was a King and Queen who had three sons. While the sons were still young the queen had passed, and at her final request were sealed in a cave so that they would not be in danger to the new queen. The king remarried and for many years the queen was unaware of the sons.”
>The dragon was already looking bored.
>You were not sure if the titles king or queen meant anything to them, but were hoping their natural competition could be targeted.


“When the Queen learned of the sons she immediately planned their demise. With deceitful words she got the King to release them from the cave and made a wager with the sons. If she were to win the game they must do all she asks, and if they win she would do the same. They agreed for they were unaware it was rigged, and so they lost. She demanded that the sons bring her a great treasure for her hoard knowing it would be the end of them.”
>The dragon continued to appear only partially interested, time and discipline having silenced its tells.
>It is only the start of the story, but there must be a hook soon for your own health.

“As the 3 sons left together in hopes of conquering the danger as one, they came across an old man. They were drawn to his black cap and took note of his heavy limp. Although the other 2 wished to rely on their own strength the third spoke to him. The old man introduced himself as the Black Thief, and told them that he was after the same treasure. He had tried before and almost got caught for the treasure called out to its master. The Black Thief in turn heard their story, and knowing how the Queen would scheme offered to aid them.”
>The dragon made note that the main character had finally arrived, but made no other motions.

“Despite their best attempt the 4 were caught when the treasure called out. The master sought to burn the group alive 1 by 1, but as the great fires were prepared the Black Thief spoke.
‘I was once in just as much danger and he shall escape just as I once did.’
‘You were never so close to death his fate is but a few moments away.’
‘I was a single moment away from death, and yet here I am.’
‘How so?’
‘If you find my danger greater will you free him?’
‘I will.’
“And so the Black Thief recounted the tale of his near death when stealing a large amount of gold from a witch.”
>For a flicker of a moment interest showed in the dragon.


“The master did indeed find the danger greater and so freed the first son. When the next son was soon to die the Black Thief spoke up again.
‘He will escape just the same.’
‘Have you been in greater danger still?’
‘That I have.’
‘Speak and I may spare this one as well.’
And so the Black Thief recounted how while stealing some precious jewels he was once trapped by a large guardian, but tricked it into running past and sneakily made his escape.”
>There was no flicker in the dragon this time, but its interest seemed held.
>That’s a good enough sign for right now.

“Again the master did indeed find the danger greater and so freed the second son. This time the master spoke first.
‘Do you have another great danger to share to save this one’s life?’
‘I do, and it is by far the greatest.’
The Black Thief told the master of how a large foe had rampaged and at one time ate a chunk of the Black Thief’s foot causing him to forever limp.
The Black Thief waited for the right time to strike, and paid the foe a horrible revenge, inevitably killing him.
The master knew the story to be true for the great foe had rampaged and threatened his own life, and so released the son and the Black Thief.
He granted the Black Thief the treasure in thanks and the group of 4 returned home.
The Queen saw that the sons had succeeded and in a fit of rage ended up killing herself.
The Black Thief revealed that the witch from the first story was the same woman, and that he had finally gotten his revenge. ”
>Hopefully the changed ending would again speak to the dragon’s competitive nature.


>With the story over the dragon remains still for a minute before bringing its face in front of yours.
>While it waits you begin considering if you could jump out of the way quickly enough.
>The moment seems to last an eternity, the dragon opening its mouth slightly a few times as if to speak.
>Finally it retracts its head up a bit.
>Still within striking distance but easier to converse with.

>”I thought better of you from what others have said. The story had its moments, but was not great. Still it is acceptable enough, be off with you Anonymous.”
>Using the walking stick to prop yourself up you begin to continue on your way.
>The ancient dragon returns to the skies as you do so, and the mighty blast knocks you over.
>That will probably bruise, but no real damage is done.
>Preferring to avoid angering the dragon you wordlessly move towards the Griffon kingdom.

Source: The Black Thief and the Knight of Glen
http://www.mythfolklore.net/andrewlang/116.htm
Origin: Irish

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>At last the Griffon lands.
>The burning of your tired muscles gave way to dreams of recovery as the large stone walls came into view.
>For awhile a Griffon patrol had followed you in the skies, their sharp vision focused on you from miles away.
>The walls were excessively large, grandiose even, but in the mountains stone is a common commodity.
>From the ground it seemed as if even with wings you could not reach the top, but the stationed guards had no trouble keeping watch.
>The heavy gates remained open, had you been a threat they would have long since been closed.
>And so you slowly enter the hold.

>The hold bustled with activity, the citizens all conversing publicly.
>Despite the appearance of the fortifications the Griffons prefer to be out in the open.
>They rarely went inside save for protection and the night.
>All walked and flew in groups, sometimes as large as 20, and many would jump from group to group throughout the day.
>Their social culture was a varied mix.
>Within the groups Griffons would speak openly and honestly, but had hushed tones when close to another group.
>They were particularly wary of strangers, and those without a group had yet to prove themselves.

>Without a friend one would get nowhere in Griffon lands.
>It took many trips and many years for you to eventually be welcomed by a band.
>But a Griffon friend is a friend for life.

>When you were still youthful and naïve of their ways you had come expecting curiosity from the Griffons like the other races, but instead they held disdain.
>You had no flock or pride, and there was little to your name.
>Another such youngster had been wandering alone only just having come of age.
>They noticed you sharing their situation and sought to form a bond.
>A tie you were receptive to as your only friend in Griffon lands.


>For a time they joined you in adventuring.
>The two of you got into a lot of trouble and escaped many dangers together.
>For the most part they remained cool and reserved, but snapped in anger when pressed every now and then.
>Harsh words sometimes followed, but they were always truly sorry once they had cooled down.
>So long as you accepted their forgiveness and realized they were truly sorry things were amended.
>It was usually some of your fault as well and acknowledging that built respect.

>Each time you two returned to the hold more youths would join your little band, and more established Griffons would take note.
>Eventually your partner decided to remain home and build their group.
>There was still much to see and so the two of you parted ways, catching up every now and then.
>How long ago that was, to realize how much has changed in that time.
>The once outcast now the ruler of these lands.

>You make your way to the citadel, the true heart of the hold.
>There are no individual houses or shops; everyone lived in the single gigantic structure.
>Different branches of stone marked station and rank, the higher tiers residing closer to the top.
>Between the citadel and walls was only open land for the Griffons to roam.
>Several of the guards recognize you and nod at your approach.
>The younger ones share a look of disbelief and excitement in seeing a legend.
>The long time friend of the most powerful Griffon for whom they serve.

>The interior is eerily quiet with most of the populace outside for the day.
>Mostly only mothers with chicks remain alongside the chefs and servants.
>The stone ramps to the top originally built for the minotaurs and their goods are your only means of progress.
>Your climbing isn’t done yet.


>Although winded you make it to the top, internally cursing your friend’s success.
>The High Perch is a short distance away, but you have to take a sit to rest.
>A servant comes out from the grand door carrying a plate of food.
>They make to one of the open windows and take off.
>Past the door you can barely make out the figure on the far off throne.
>Instantly they shoot up and rush towards your position.

>”Anonymous, how long it’s been! Please come in and sit with me.”
“Hello friend, it has been too long indeed. Give me a minute to catch my breath.”
>”Time has not been kind to you has it?”
“We can’t all become kings and queens.”
>”Ha, where’s the Anonymous I once knew? The one who outran the Zebras in a cross country race? The one who wouldn’t stop walking for 3 days straight while rambling about some tortoise and hare?”
“I’ll have you recall that the Zebra lands are flat. These cliffs are a strain on my limbs. Surely you remember how hard it was to climb when you were too afraid to fly with the dragons about.”
>”And I remember how well you flew when that minotaur threw you out of the tavern.”
“Yeah, yeah.”

>You give a dismissive wave while you both recall the old days.
>Age showed in their face, but not nearly as heavily as in yours.
>Though you were at a disadvantage in that regard since you came here with some years already.

>”Servants! Quick! Bring a table, a cushion, a minotaur chair, and whatever else my guest requires.”
“Just give me a minute will ya, I’ll get to the room in a sec.”
>”Nonsense, we’ll just sit right here.”
>In a snap the servants had brought all that was requested along with food and drink.
>The followers of your old band had become royal attendants and advisors.
>They too joined you at the top of the ramp.


>”Now my friend drink and be merry, and share with us one of your many stories.”
>You once told them the story of Beowulf finding it appropriate for the Griffons.
>Their hate of dragons and love of honor and oath fit well in the setting.
>Though you can’t retell the same tale, perhaps a variant will do.

“Very well, I shall share the story of Sigurd the Volsung who took the shattered pieces of his father’s sword to be recast as a great blade which brought him glory.”
>A part of you never really understood how these familiar weapons came to be in this land, but that was of little matter.

“Sigmund, father of Sigurd, had fallen in battle. His wife, the Queen, had found his body on the field in the night and to her surprise he remained alive. His last request was for her to take care of their future son and to give him the fragments of his sword as his birthright. She did so and Sigurd once born was tutored by a wise blacksmith. The smith taught him well, but also taunted him with harsh words.
‘Are you really satisfied just playing in the castle grounds? Have you not the strength and courage to go out and earn glory like your father?’”
>Young Griffon’s faced similar situations from their families.
>In a society where one must prove themselves each day that passed was seen as a fault in character.

“But, the reasons for the smith’s words were for revenge rather than Sigurd’s fame. The smith told Sigurd of a dragon who had shamed him, and told that it was for this reason he raised the lad so well. Brave Sigurd agreed to slay the dragon, but in turn the smith had to recast his father’s sword. The smith gladly did so, and his skill was worthy of praise. Armed with this sword they left to where the dragon lived.”
>The group of Griffon’s all sat around patiently, fully encapsulated.
>On their graying faces you could see the past joys of yesteryear when you all would make camp much like this while adventuring.


“The wise smith had devised a clever plan to strike at the softened belly of the dragon. He told Sigurd to dig a trench and lie in it, and when the Dragon crossed to thrust into its exposed stomach. Young Sigurd did as was asked while the smith ran away to safety. While digging a stranger came up asking what he was doing.
‘Greetings Sigurd the Volsung, why do you dig this trench?’
‘Sir, I aim to slay the dragon from this pit.’
‘Then you should build a second trench or else you will drown in the blood.’
Without another word the stranger left. Realizing the stranger was most wise Sigurd made a second hole and laid down in wait.”
>You wonder if they have any gods like Odin.

“When the Dragon came he thrust into its soft underside and thanks to the second trench survived. The smith came back for the dragon’s corpse and noticed Sigurd still alive. Sigurd could tell the smith was not entirely pleased, but when the smith asked him to cook the dragon’s heart so that he may eat it Sigurd did so.
While cooking the heart he tested to see if it was done, and when the flavor met his tongue he could understand the birds.
‘He should eat the heart himself, then he would be the wisest of them all.’
‘The smith seeks to betray him, Sigurd should cut off his head.’
Hearing their words Sigurd ate the heart, and then slew the smith.”
>Hopefully this doesn’t start a new delicacy.


“In his travels he came upon an endless fire surrounding a castle. Braving the fire he found it empty save for a sleeping woman. He broke the sleeping curse and she told him her tale. Brunhild was a warrior of legends but when her king asked her to aid a warrior she instead aided the opponent. In an uproar she was cursed to lose her station and sleep until a hero beat the fire. She taught Sigurd many things and he decided to marry her, but she told him that fate deemed he forget her and marry another. He swore that it would not be the case and they gave oath to each other.”
>When you asked if they had a version of a valkyrie you were surprised to hear that they didn’t.
>A winged deity taking them to a land of endless battle seemed right up their alley.

“But her words were true. As she had left to fight one war Sigurd had went to meet another King. While they feasted the Queen decided that Sigurd would make a fine husband for her daughter and so poisoned his drink with a spell making him forget about his wife. He chose to marry the King’s daughter and become a brother to the King’s son Gunnar. Gunnar longed for a worthy wife and aided by the Queen’s magic Sigurd tricked Brunhild into marrying him.”
>Deceit through magic mixed with the breaking of oaths ruffled the Griffon’s feathers.
>Despite their beaks you could see the hint of disgust on their lips.

“Brunhild learned of this and demanded that Gunnar prove himself by killing Sigurd. Gunnar could not think to break the oath of brotherhood, but Brunhild was precious to him. The youngest brother was not bound to the same oath, and so using similar magic Gunnar poisoned him. Under Gunnar’s command he entered Sigurd’s room and stabbed him in the night.”
>There was a complex mix of loyalties being tested.
>All had done wrong to one another save the youngest who was used as a tool.
>Griffon politics had hints of such scheming, though they’d never admit it.


“Although Brunhild had her revenge she still loved Sigurd and ended her own life in a fit of grief. Before she truly perished she requested to be burned alongside Sigurd on the same funeral pyre. It was granted and although the smoke signaled the end of the hero his fame and glory lived on.”
>There was a lot more to the story, both beginning and end, but they could best connect with this part.
>A fact clearly visible in their uneasy tails and thoughtful faces.

>Your friend was the first to speak.
>”A somber tale Anonymous. Will you stay awhile and help lighten the mood, or will you be off again?”
“You know I could never stay in one place for long but I’ll stay the night with you and leave in the morning.”
>”At your age you should really settle down though I am all too familiar with your ways. Come let us drink late into the night!”
>Although your friend’s words were true there is still so much to see.
>And there’s still even more friends to revisit.


Source: The Saga of the Volsungs/ The Nibelungenlied
Origin: Nordic/ Germanic
The Sage of the Volsungs short version: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/volsungsaga.html
The Sage of the Volsungs full version: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/13486
The Nibelungenlied short version: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/nibelungenlied.html
The Nibelungenlied full version: http://www.yorku.ca/inpar/nibelung_armour.pdf

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>The sun had barely approached noon and you were already down the mountains.
>Perhaps you drank too heavily last night, but it was good to catch up with your friends.
>It also reminded you of some tales that Dwarves get drunk so as to more easily travel the mountains.
>A funny little note from home.
>It might have held some truth given how well you made it down.

>On the opposite side of the mountain, past the bumps and rolls of hills, lay vast plains.
>There was short vegetation all over making it the perfect hunting ground for Griffons.
>The dragons and minotaurs had no care for the flat lands.
>The dragons could find no place to stash their hoards, and the minotaurs hated crossing the mountains just as much as you.
>That left the land mostly to the Zebras and the skies to the Griffons.

>The Griffons could also go out to sea as the plains came to a close.
>There was no beach or sand, and it seemed as if the world really did just end there.
>Miles inland the tree line resumed.
>Zebra tribes were scattered across this wide range, occupying both the open plains and the dense jungles.

>Sending messages between tribes required a Zebra to travel great distances.
>With the importance of such letters speed became a valued trait.
>A traditional competition was created where the fastest runners would race to all of the tribes.
>The runners had such bursts of speed few could hope to catch them.
>But they had little sense of pacing and ran themselves ragged.
>Most were forced to stop and rest for great lengths, a few foolish enough to keep going until they died of exhaustion.
>When you asked why they did not use other means to send their messages they told you the tradition kept their species strong.


>The Zebras are a very intelligent race, they know well the ways of the land.
>They value craft and cunning rather than brute strength, and sought new frontiers.
>It was no coincidence the Zebras were the first to meet all of the other races, or the ones to learn how a plant or mineral could be used.
>Yet they held a sort of mysticism in their views of the world and the spirits of the land.
>Respect was given to all life, and they took only the most crucial amount.
>It was the wise runner who recognized their weaknesses and what plants will sustain them on the way.
>From food to medicine to dangers that must be avoided.
>The first several to finish would help breed an even stronger generation with the winner being the most sought after.

> A shiver of uneasiness works its way down your body as you recall that fact.
>It made for a very awkward year.
>Blasted Griffon goading you into participating.

>These plains left little defense against the burning sun.
>Now at its highest point the heat became too much to bear.
>The Zebras knew of places to hide and escape the midday, and had shared their secrets with you.
>You found one such crevice with a pond being fed by the distant mountain.
>The hot warmth above gave way to a soft chill as the scent of freshwater enveloped you.
>The wildlife who relied on such places rushed away from you.
>You sat down to rest and wait out the blistering heat.
>The creatures slowly accepting your presence as the hours past.

>Waking up from the nap you notice the light of day was no longer visible.
>Very carefully you climbed back up, straining yourself here and there, to find the shimmer of the setting sun.
>Another shiver as your body adjusted to the temperature.
>The heat no longer aggressive, but like a midsummer night it was much warmer than below.
>It was fine travelling weather.

>A few hours more and your stomach grumbled in want.
>You could travel no more this night and so the distant village became the goal.


>As the rays of light dim the torches around the village went up.
>The bazaar was slowly dying but still held life.
>Plants and potions displayed on tables, gems and jewels resting on blankets.
>Items were haggled, a good deed turning another.

>It was not uncommon for one house to feed 5 others.
>The community was tight knit, but unlike the Griffons the Zebras were very friendly.
>The first time you met they approached you as you fumbled through the woods.
>They led you to their village and offered their own beds to you insisting they sleep on the floor.
>There was a great exchange of knowledge throughout that day and the many days beyond.
>Accounting everything you could say it was the Zebra lands that felt like a new home.

>”Is that Anonymous the Turtle I see?”
>The lady zebra’s words snapped you out of thought.
>”Or is it some mischievous spirit playing tricks in the low light?”
>She grinned alongside her mocking tone.
>You did have a reputation for getting into trouble.

“If that is how you wish to welcome a benevolent soul then perhaps I should take my gifts and be on my way!”
>You chide in turn, the zebra mere inches from you.
>It used to unnerve you having them get so close, but that is just how they are.
>To them personal space is an obstacle to closeness.
>”Oh spirit you speak rebuke, but the Anonymous I know walks on 2 legs not 3.”
“And once you were a renowned runner, and before that an insufferable youth.”
>”Anonymous the Turtle also had a harder shell. Throughout my aging has a nerve begun to show?”
“Why, would a spirit recall the prattling of your tiny hooves who crossed the cracked plains with me? How we escaped the sun and broke bread in a shallow gorge and spoke of our dreams?”
>”Ah fair spirit, yay you would be allowed such information for you live in the shadows; such shadows that were present as we broke our bread. Tell me, if you are who you claim what ambition did I whisper?”


>A crowd of familiar faces had gathered around, as well as many new.
>She was once embarrassed of such a secret, but perhaps that is no longer the case.
“You spoke of your desire to enter the Great Race and to birth a son of unequal measure. A son I am sure you would dote on and spoil.”
>Her snicker turned into the widest of smiles, and she opened her hooves hugging your midsection strong.
>”Old friend it is so good to see you once more.”

>The crowd followed in welcoming you while the youngest of children looked on in question.
>Not wanting to be left out one such child came forth and spoke to the lady zebra.

>”Who is that mommy?”
>”This is Anonymous the Turtle, the one from the stories my son.”
>”They don’t look like they could beat a buffalo. The elder could beat them.”
>She laughed and sought to correct the child, but you kneeled down and intervened.

“So you’re her son? I suppose you were born after my last visit. Well then, run over to that tree and show me what you can do.”
>Seeking to impress the boy quickly did so, and ran back.
>He did have a natural speed to him, but his form was sloppy and he used the bursts of speed so common of young runners.
>She’d teach him the proper ways soon enough.

“Mighty fast of you there, but I bet I can make it to that tree before you.”
>He instantly got into a ready stance.
“Alright, GO!”
>With a bolt he was gone, still slightly winded from last time but way ahead of you.
>You slowly hobbled over while the child caught his breath looking smug in victory.
>Finally you reached the same tree.

“I win.”
>”No you didn’t I was first!”
“You made it to this tree now, but I was here years before you.”
>”What?”
“And I can prove it. This walking stick of mine came from this very tree.”
>Indeed the worn bark did match, and beneath the discoloration the central patterns were shared.


>”That’s not what you said!”
“In your haste you ran off without giving thought to my words.”
>”That’s not fair! You cheated!”
>Okay it was a bit unfair to do that, but hopefully they’ll learn the lesson.
>A gift to aid them in their future.
>Hell, let’s drive the point home.

“Then let me share a story. Strength and speed are often heroic traits, but knowledge is the most important of all. Listen now to the history of The Wazir and The Sage.”
>The lady zebra consoled her son and bid him to listen.
>The entire village gathered round and passed many foods along.

“There once was a Sultan stricken sick and all attempts had failed to heal him. No physical or scientific means held any result. He had tried various potions and plants, exercises and diets, but still nothing. The Sultan held grief close to his heart and spoke to the spirits.
‘If there is one who could heal me let them be known. Should they be successful in restoring me to health they will never want for anything again.’
And the spirits carried his words.”
>When the young ones looked on at the strangeness of your words you clarified the meaning for them.
>For the most part there was no trouble, but sometimes you preferred to keep the original words from home in the story.

“Passing through the Sultan’s domain was a Sage well read of many things. The Sage knew of herbs and salves, magic and blessings, astronomy and theory. The Sage heard of the Sultan’s plight and at once went to him.
‘Lord of these lands treasured by the spirits, I have heard of your affliction and made haste to you now. I can cure you and without pain of needle or taste of medicine.’
The Sultan found joy in the Sage’s words and provided rich cloth and home, still promising ever more once cured.”
>It seemed as if even the creatures of the night were listening to the story.
>Silence followed your pauses save for the flicker of torches.


“The Sage immediately set to work on a wooden mask with great horns. The horns were made hollow and filled with the selected ointments. The Sage told the Sultan to wear the mask and he did so.
‘Now, great Sultan, go and run wild till you can run no more. As you sweat the medicine will drain into your brow. Once exhausted quickly join a bath laden with lavender, and when you exit sleep through the night.’
The Sultan did as commanded, and the people cheered and laughed alongside him.
The Sage had put a smile on the mask and rounded the eyes offsetting the menacing horns.
Spurned by his friends and community the Sultan did run until all of the ointment was gone.”
>You were happy with changing the bat to a mask, and the joining of the populace.
>It worked for the zebras own traditions.

“When the Sultan awoke the next day he indeed found himself healed. Thrice blessed he called for the Sage and gave all sorts of honors and gifts. The Sage became as family to the Sultan and had no want for the rest of his life. The Wazir saw this in jealousy and sought to destroy the Sage by speaking to the Sultan.
‘Oh Sultan, Lord of the Spirits, I weep for your life as you welcome spies in your home.’
‘What say you Wazir? Of whom do you speak?’
‘The Sage who you have welcomed means you nothing but ill.’
‘Nonsense! The Sage healed me when all else had failed. They are wise and a boon to this world. If they were to ask for all I own I would think nothing of it.’”
‘But, Oh King of Kings, if they could heal without pain of medicine they could do harm with just as much ease.’
The Sultan had trouble believing the Wazir, but in time feared for his life.”
>A zebra’s hospitality renowned mixed with the basest of fears.


“And so the Sultan called for the Sage and repeated what the Wazir had said.
‘If you healed me without pain of medicine you could just as easily harm me without notice. Thus I must strike first.’
‘What crime have I committed? You seek to repay my kindness with evil!’
‘It cannot be helped, I must strike first.’
As the guards entered the Sage cried out as they wept, pleading with the Sultan.
‘If you truly seek to do me harm let me share what I have left with the people. I will soon come back and in return offer you my prized necklace.’
The Sultan allowed the Sage to do so, and soon the Sage had returned with the piece of jewelry. The necklace shined of the brightest gold studded by the largest of gems. The intricate detail captured the Sultan’s eye and once received instantly put on the necklace.”
>Spreading a person’s wealth to the community was a final act of contribution.
>Although the family got the majority it helped fend off competition and solidified the importance of the whole.

“As the Sage prepared for the worst they spoke to the Sultan.
‘The gem you treasure would shine all the brighter if you were to rub it.’
‘Is this true?’
‘Yes, for each pass of the hoof the gleam only magnifies.’
In haste the Sultan rubbed the gem, but nothing changed.
‘It still remains the same.’
‘Give it another pass.’
The Sultan did so, and as the hoof passed a final time the Sultan became as still as stone. The Sage had poisoned the gem with a paralyzing powder, and when the guards went to aid the Sultan the Sage made their escape. In turn the spirits brought ruin upon the Sultan and the Wazir for committing such wrongs.”
>The crowd smiled and quickly made chit chat with one another about the story.
>Finally you could tell one that didn’t involve battle.


>As the night dragged on you caught up with all in the village.
>If you ever did settle down this would probably be the place.
>Warm words shared by all, and generosity without question.
>But your body still has some strength yet.
>The untraveled roads calling out to you still.
>As you warp up for the night and pop your bones the lady zebra comes up to you again.

>”Anonymous, please come stay with me for the night. Rest upon my bed and I shall take the floor.”
“I appreciate the offer, but age has caught up with us both. I’ll go stay with one of the younger zebras rather than deny you your bed.”
>”It is of no bother, I’m still as spry as my youth.”
>Before you can dismiss her Junior pokes out from behind her.
>”You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”
>It’s good to see he has forgiven your little trick.
>You wouldn’t want to deny him this opportunity to share his bed either.
>After all, hospitality is very important to these zebras.
“Alright, I humbly accept. And in the morning I’ll tell you a secret before I leave.”
>As the fires burned their last the 3 of you left to turn in for the night.

Source: The Tale of the Wazir and The Sage Duban: Part of The Tale of the Fisherman and the Jinni which is part of The Arabian Nights.
http://wordyenglish.com/arabian_nights/sage_duban.html
Origin: Middle Eastern

==================================================================================================================

>Your body screamed in soreness; your muscles hollering at your brain.
>The bed you slept on last night was 1/3 your size, and made for a dreadful night.
>But you can suffer for a time from doing a good deed, it meant a lot to the boy.
>In return you told him how to remain in the shade while traveling to the Buffalo lands.

>From plains to jungle to plains again you had cut across the Zebra territory into the Buffalo’s.
>It took much longer to travel through the trees, but it saved you from the heat.
>The Buffalo only cared for the flatlands leaving the trees to the Zebras, their bulk making it difficult to navigate.
>The two got along quite well, their skills in medicine intertwined through the ages.
>They differ on stubbornness to a great degree; the Zebras open minded to the Buffalo’s hardheaded.

>The old saying should probably be changed from Mule to Buffalo.
>But that doesn’t roll off the tongue as well.
>That would probably also anger the Buffalos, and an angry Buffalo is not something you want to come across.
>That was a lesson you learned pretty early, and a good thing too.

>Finding a Buffalo camp was always a pain.
>Their migratory nature kept you guessing each time you came back.
>It didn’t help that they’d also wander into the desert from time to time.
>And the hills.
>Anywhere there weren’t trees it seemed.
>Strange Buffalo.

>Before you left the Zebras had given you a snakeskin flask and leaves to chew to fight off dehydration, something you were eternally grateful for.
>The leaves were of little material value to the Zebras, but the snakeskin was worth more than precious metals.
>They only get it from trade with the Griffons who will occasionally eat such things.
>The Griffons traded it for wood and other minerals, the Zebras eager to test a new ingredient.
>In return for their gifts you gave the Zebra’s a warning.
>Never ask for a Minotaur’s horn.
>Or a P0ny’s for that matter.


>They’ve probably already asked before, but you shared your faux pas with the other races.
>Over the years you’ve done some pretty dumb things as well as honest things you just didn’t know were wrong.
>Although each race had their dignitaries sharing your experiences helped prevent a repeat.
>In the world of global politics you had a unique position being the only one of your kinds.
>You had no loyalties to one race over another, and because of that each respected your input.
>That didn’t stop them from blatantly ignoring you sometimes.

>The ground quakes with a steady rumble.
>Raw power travels through the dirt and up your legs.
>Seems you found the Buffalo in mid migration.

>You move to meet them as quickly as your age would allow.
>They were heading near your direction, but cutting straight through.
>The one in front locks eyes with you but keeps on moving.
>Buffalo don’t stop until they deem the journey done.

>Several pass you, and many more continue to do so.
>Finally one of the elders slows down enough to keep pace.
>”So the Trickster returns.”
>His voice was deep and powerful, even more so than it was in his youth.
>There was no malice or play in his voice, simply stating a fact.

“Will you ever stop calling me that?”
>”Your place has been set Trickster; you of all creatures should know that.”
“That’s all old history now.”
>”Yes, and given what I see you wouldn’t be able to make it to the trees this time.”

>When you first met the Buffalo they hesitantly welcomed you.
>They were very hospitable, but they took offense when you said they were simple.
>Not like in the head, just their way of life.
>Of course they corrected you with words, but you kept digging the hole deeper.
>Their shamanistic beliefs.
>The migrations.
>The smell.
>Eventually they ran you out.


>Being prideful in your youth that didn’t sit well, and when you made your way back around things weren’t exactly friendly.
>The Chief was always the one to address you.
>You shouted at each other with you doing your best to rile him up.
>The Chief’s words weren’t very good at getting under your skin.
>But yours were.

>Worked into a fury he madly charged you.
>You ran with him in pursuit towards the raging river.
>With your narrower form and dexterity you were able to jump from rock to rock reaching the other side.
>Wild beyond reason the Chief continued the chase and plowed into the river.
>The resulting splash resembled Old Faithful.

>As the Chief neared the river bank you ran back across.
>Again and again you did this.
>After a few times the river had drained all fight out of the raving Buffalo.
>You shortly tackled him and claimed yourself the winner.
>Your pride sated you made a snide comment about not getting so angry and left.

>Relations between you and the Buffalo remained strained for a long time.
>The two of you would heckle each other in passing, and often times you would get chased off.
>You never beat a Buffalo in a raw test of strength, and the Chief grew savvy of your tricks.
>One day a famous Medicine Buffalo came to the camp and advised the tribe.
>You all gathered on neutral ground and finally made amends.

>Apparently their mythology had a deity like you in the pantheon.
>A trickster that caused trouble and was often chased away.
>But in those tricks sometimes hid lessons.
>You tried to tell them it wasn’t the case, but Buffalo hold strongly onto their beliefs.
>And the facts were stacked against you.
>One of a kind, wandering vagrant, deceitful, a jackass.
>You relented at that point.


>From it all, the Chief learned to cull his anger.
>And you apologized for being a huge jerk.
>Over the years you sought to make amends and helped when you could.
>You still got chased off from time to time.
>Sometimes you swear trouble follows you.

>”Are you coming to the camp or are you headed for the P0ny lands?”
“I’m stopping at the camp. Truth be told, I’d like to delay revisiting the p0nies as much as possible. How much farther are you going to run?”
>”We’ll be there soon, only about 10 miles to go.”
>You take a look at the sun checking its place in the sky.
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

>The herd had mostly all passed by now, the elder considering your words and form.
>”Hop on my back and I will take you there.”
“Are you sure?”
>In all your years this is a first.
>You had never been offered to ride on anyone.
>”No tricks.”
“I promise.”

>In a few hours the Buffalo had finally stopped to make camp.
>Despite the added weight, the elder beneath you still carried strong.
>His breath was getting a little heavy though.
“Here take this; a gift from the Zebras.”
>You hand him the snakeskin flask still containing a bit of water as you slowly climb off.
>He looks less than thrilled.
>”You hand me the defiled hide of a living creature?”
>And sounds more than a bit offended.

“Though the snake has died its body continues to nourish life. It has sustained me thus far and will sustain those who are wise enough to use it. I had expected you to be in tune with such things.”
>Sometimes your words just changed when with these Buffalo.
>Just filling the role given.

>”I thought I said no tricks.”
“I swear there are none.”
>He continues to look at the gift suspiciously, eventually pressing it back to you.
>”Sorry, I cannot accept this.”
>Oh well, you tried.
>At least he doesn’t sound offended anymore.


>You both make your way to where the herd has gathered; the Buffalo that was in front earlier calling out to the elder.
>”So the Trickster fooled you into a free ride. That feeble body is clearly just a disguise.”
>You turn towards the elder.
“I don’t remember this one.”
>”That’s the Chief’s son who has grown since your visit, and with the Chief’s passing now leads the tribe.”
”Sorry for your loss, he was a good leader and I’ll honestly miss him.”
>As the herd begins to settle in and build their temporary home the 3 of you travel to the center fire.

>This new Chief was as stoic as his father.
>“He’s one with the land now, though I’m sure he would enjoy hearing your words. Maybe you can share them next time you run into your brother The Keeper.”
>The Keeper was short for Keeper of Secrets who held all knowledge.
>They say The Keeper could send messages beyond time and plane, and was the only one who knew what The Trickster was up to.
>You’re not sure why that last bit bothered you.

“You’ve gotten a lot bigger since last time I saw you. The herd is doing well I take it.”
>”Indeed. What brings you here Trickster? Trick or Treat?”
>You snickered at that.
>Something you told them long ago just to mess with them.
>It was scary how well the role fit sometimes.
>You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t enjoyable.

“I come with 2 gifts for you in acknowledging you as the new Chief, but you may only pick 1.”
>Already he eyed you carefully.
>Was that a hint of worry on his face?

“In one hand I hold all the land; in another I hold a warning. Pick carefully, and let your heart be your guide.”
>You held out both fists fully closed giving no indication which was which.
>Everyone had heard the commotion and rushed to watch.
>There was sweat on the Buffalo’s face as he hovered over each hand.
>Finally he made his choice.


>Honestly it didn’t matter which one he picked, they were both empty.
>You couldn’t really offer the world, but there was a story perfect for the Buffalo.
“You’ve chosen wisely in picking the warning. Let me tell you the story of one who had chosen the other.”
>You wait until everyone gets comfy and then begin.

“Long ago a Buffalo Chief looked over the open plains and his fellow herd and found life to be good. They would migrate to the river and enjoy all the fresh vegetation, then return to the plains when the plants had time to regrow. Life was tough with only the two places to eat, but the herd was strong.”
>You prepare yourself to keep your role as there’s no other equivalent for them.

“The Chief saw the lush fields on the other side of the river and thought how much larger it would make the herd.
‘If only the herd was strong enough to cross the river we would have no more worries about food. With such a herd I wouldn’t even fear The Trickster.’
Little did he know I had heard his words and disguising myself I gave him a bowl of seeds. I told him to feed the seeds to the herd and they would be able to cross the river.”
>It would be nicer to say The Trickster, but they keep looking at you funny when you do that.

“The herd was then able to cross the river with the Chief leading the way. The journey was tough, but now there was so much fresh food. The herd grew and life went on. As they grew so did their needs and life became rough once more. The Chief looked out beyond the hills and saw even fresher foods in the distance.
‘If only the herd was strong enough to run into the hills, then there would be no more worries of food.’
Again I disguised myself and offered a plate of paste and told him to feed it to the herd.”
>The Buffalo were already trying to guess the outcome assuming ‘you’ to be up to no good.


“After eating the paste the herd was able to cross the hills with the Chief leading the way. No other flowers tasted as good as those on the hills, and the herd grew. Eventually life became hard again, and the Chief looked past the desert no one dared to cross spotting untouched plains.
‘If only the herd was as strong as I, then we could cross the desert and there would be no worries of food.’
Again I secretly offered beans and told him to feed it to the herd.”
>Crossing the desert was something the Buffalo only did when at full strength.

“After eating the beans the herd could cross the desert to the untouched spoils with the Chief leading the way. Once more things were good and once more the Chief later lamented.
‘If only the herd was a little bit stronger, then we could eat on the plains, eat past the river, eat on the hills, and eat past the desert.’
I gave the Chief a bowl of berries, but also a warning. Since the Chief did not eat the seeds, the paste, and the beans the berries would be poison to him. The Chief fed the berries to the herd and made sure not to eat any himself.”
>The tale now covered the full migrational habits of the Buffalo.


“Again the Chief ran in front past the plains, through the river, past the hills, beyond the desert and still kept running. The Chief soon became tired, but could not stop as the herd pushed him onward from behind. The Chief ran and ran until his body collapsed to the side, the herd continuing to run off. For a final time I approached the Chief, but this time in my real form.
‘I offer you 2 gifts Chief, but you may pick only 1. In one hand I hold a seed, some paste, a bean, and a berry. In the other I hold Immortality. Pick which one you want.’
The Chief picked the empty hand and I ate the gifts in the other.
‘I grant you Immortality Once Chief of the Buffalo. You shall forever be known through story as the Greedy Fool.’
And I left him there.”
>The Buffalo were quiet as they usually are.
>They gave deep thought to the story and its meaning.
>Several looked as though they expected such an end, but were still surprised in the final act.
>Finally the Chief spoke.

>”Thank you for the warning Trickster, you have indeed come with a treat. Let us celebrate our friend as tradition dictates.”
>They returned your story with their own; one accompanied with music and dance.
>Food was shared with you receiving the largest plate.
>On your plate was some seeds, paste, beans and berries.
>You slept on a simple bedroll that night by the fire looking up into the night sky.
>These Buffalo weren’t half bad.

Source: How Much Land Does a Man Need
http://www.online-literature.com/tolstoy/2738/
Origin: Russian

==================================================================================================================
>It is finally time to go back to where it all began.
>You can’t put it off anymore; the journey ahead takes you straight through the pony domain.
>They’ll no doubt try to nag you into finally stopping, as they do every time.
>Sometimes it gets hard to fight their pleas, and they do have such varied landscapes.
>From the hills and mountains to the grasslands and forests, it is a beautiful place.

>Each time you passed through you couldn’t help but go to Canterlot.
>The view from the top of the castle is always amazing.
>You envy the griffons and their keen sight whenever you look out from the towers.
>If you had just half of their vision you could see the curvature of the Earth.

>Down the unused roads you walk, spotting the castle in the distance.
>You could take a train from the border of the buffalo lands all the way to the other end of the pony kingdom, but that would defeat the whole purpose.
>The point of your wandering was to see the world, not cross it.
>It was a trip you had to fight for.

>No one knows for sure how or why you came here.
>Plucked from your home to this bizarre and extravagant place.
>That adequately describes your initial entrance.

>You popped in, for lack of a better word, right in front of Princess Celestia and two guards.
>Each of you just gazed at the other in awe.
>Horses with weapons and armor in a marbled room, a biped with no horns or tail in strange clothes.
>First contact could have gone better.
>They pressed their spears towards you and babbled nonsense.
>You put distance between yourself and them, chattering nonsensically.
>Neither of you could understand what the other was saying.

>In the end, you were led to a room in the castle and the two guards stood watch.
>You were effectively under arrest.
>Wishing to keep your presence a secret, Princess Celestia was the only one allowed to enter the room.
>She implied that she was there to help you learn to talk, but most of the time she was just listening.


>In a sort of ‘brute force the language’ strategy, you began telling her stories.
>Stories from home, of adventure and exploration.
>Your words held no meaning, but the tone, the pace, the motions, the presentation... They all told the story.
>She watched and listened intently. In her eyes, you could see her mind dancing in those foreign lands you spoke of.
>A soft smile often decorated her face and she displayed a sense of longing.

>Those tales helped you as well.
>The only piece of home left to give comfort as you remembered the vast cities and modest villages.
>Recalling how humanity had stretched so far, settling in every kind of biome, cultures shifting to match every environment.
>Who knows? There could have even been humans here, but you had no way of asking.

>One day, Princess Celestia started bringing books.
>History books, folk tales, maps.
>She began matching your stories to hers.
> As you shared with one another without true words, she would press the appropriate book into your hands.
>In this way, you learned to speak the language they know as ‘Common’.

>In this world, ‘Common’ was a simplified version of the major languages to help negotiations and trade.
>Each race had their own official language, though some fully adopted it.
>You never did learn any of them; constantly travelling made it unnecessary and you could get by with just common.

>”Anon.”
>Hmmm?
>Who else would be on these trails?
>Snapping back to reality, you spot two pegasus guards pulling a chariot.
>”We have come to offer you a ride to the castle.”
“Nonsense, I’ll walk. The princess should know better.”
>”Princess Celestia worries for your health.”
“Phooey. I’ve got plenty of strength left.”
>”It would mean a lot to her.”
“I said no and that’s that. Now get going and leave me to my reminiscing.”
>They did just that, taking off to presumably relay your message.


>She always was a worrier.
>Once you could communicate properly, you told her you wanted to see the world.
>She wanted to integrate you more slowly.
>That integration started by bringing Princess Cadence with her.

>For a time, those two were the only ones you talked to.
>Large amounts of questions were exchanged both ways, the two girls often trying to lead you into a story.
>They loved to hear about your world and daydream while you talked.
>They became like children as they would lie down and gaze up at you with unfocused eyes, sometimes even mindlessly swaying their tails.
>To be fair, Princess Cadence was a child—or rather, foal— at that time.

>But that was a one-way road, a fact you weren’t happy with.
>There was so much to see just outside that door and yet you were locked away.
>One night you asked Princess Cadence to leave the door cracked.
>Monsters in the dark and such.
>She did so and you made your escape that night.
>The two guards you first ran into had apparently ended their shift.
>Leaving behind two very surprised ponies.

>Sneaking through the castle was difficult with little to hide behind.
>Since only four ponies had ever seen you, the guards usually looked on in disbelief as you snuck by.
>Once outside, it was far easier to hide in the woods and hills.
>Whenever you were actually spotted the ponies just froze until you disappeared again.
>You actually ended up as a myth for a while, like some sort of Bigfoot.

>That myth both grew and died thanks to Celestia.
>When she first ordered the search, the population got really suspicious.
>They never could find you, but the rumors of ‘sightings’ grew.
>It did your heart good to later hear there were whack jobs in this world, too.
>Except they were on to something this time.
>As the other races met you and your fame grew, Celestia eventually just came clean.
>Then you finally stopped hiding when moving through pony lands, and reconnected with the princesses.


>In front of you now stands Canterlot Mountain.
>Given its importance, there were many ways to the top.
>Travelling the ramps dug into it, similar to the griffons’ citadel, is the easiest path.
>A trek you’ve undergone many times before.
>One time, you scaled the mountain just for fun, but the crowd of pegasus ponies that hovered nearby, fearing you’d fall, killed the mood.

>Once more, a commotion grows where you walk.
>Like some sort of sports team, you are beset with odd requests for autographs and pictures.
>You try to push on, ignoring the flashes that attack your eyes.
>Keeping your head low doesn’t work when everyone is significantly shorter than you.

>You humor them for awhile, your worn hands barely able to offer little more than chicken scratch.
>The ponies are very sociable once they stop running away.
>Horrible at keeping secrets, though; probably part of being so nosey.
> Extremely curious, they could never leave well enough alone.
>How you miss the days when they’d hide at your sight.

“It’s nice to see you all, but please let me be on my way. I need to keep my energy for meeting the princess.”
>”You mean princessES.”
>That voice catches your attention.
>Pink, purple, and vanilla colors.
>Barber pole mane design.
>Wings and a horn.
>Yup, Princess Temper Tantrum is here.

“Princess Cadence, what a surprise. I half expected you to be in the Crystal Kingdom. Don’t tell me you came out here for this old fool. You know I’d come visit you next.”
>”It’s just a pleasant coincidence that I happened to be here when you showed up.”
>The ponies surrounding you make room as you bend down enough to receive her warm hug, though your back threatens to lock up in protest of your idiocy.
>You really wish there was a chiropractor spell.


>”You missed my wedding, Anon.”
>There is a hint of hurt in her scolding, but she tries to stay all smiles.
“Sorry. I was helping the diamond dogs and minotaurs negotiate at the time. If you gave a little more warning, I would have done my best to show up.”
>”It’s for the best, I suppose. It was quite ‘eventful’.”
>There’s the understatement of the year.

>With the crowd now watching from the sidelines, the two of you begin walking the rest of the way to the castle.
>She stands close against you and tries to match your speed.
>A few steps in and you can tell she’s trying to sync the sound of her steps to your stick.
>She’d make a game out of anything.

“From what I’ve heard, things have been ‘eventful’ here for quite a while now.”
>”It really has been. You should probably turn around now before something else happens. With half a day’s head start, you might just make it.”
>Is that a ribbing she’s attempting?
>You hold your impromptu cane for a second, throwing her off balance.
“That’s not a bad idea. I don’t want to be around when another “I’mma hold my breath” crisis arises when the troubled terror doesn’t get her way.”
>She quickly catches on to your cane shenanigans and rejoins its beat perfectly.
>She’s gotten a lot better at reading you.

>”How quickly one forgets the provider of pastries, the sneaker of sweets, the criminal of cookies, and the burglar of bread.”
>You shouldn’t have given her so many nicknames, but she enjoyed the titles you gave her.
>She also seemed to like them more when they followed alliteration.
“The bane of baths, the scourge of soap, the fighter of freshness.”
>Why do kids always hate getting clean?
>”The deceived darling who let her favorite friend escape.”
>Ouch. Low blow.


>You’re pretty sure you cleared all that up.
>Although Celestia was upset at Cadence for what happened, you had a few choice words for the white mare the next time you visited.
>And she apologized, acknowledging her wrongs.
>These ponies could never stay mad and were empathetic to a fault.
>That makes it all the harder for you to hold a grudge against them.

>Seems Cadence beat you this time.
>You both enter the castle in each other’s step.
>”By the way, Anon, there’s a lot of ponies for you to meet here. Aunty Celestia called for the Elements, Shining, and I to do some catching up. And of course, Aunty Luna is here too.
“Aunty Luna?”
>”Celestia’s sister, the mare on the moon.”
“Oh right, right. Now I remember.”
>”She may not show it, but she is very excited to meet you.”
>Coincidentally enough, the ‘Man on the Moon’ and ‘Mare on the Moon’ was one of the first stories you and Celestia connected.

>As you enter the wide room full of ponies you’ve never seen before, their conversation comes to a close.
>It’d be nice if visiting the ponies would be simple for a change.
>Celestia is able to restrain herself from outright bolting towards you, and maintains her practiced composure.
>”Anon, how are you? I was happy to hear you were on your way.”
>No one else says a word as she walks over to you.

>You move in for a hug, but she puts a wing to your chest, gently stopping you in place.
>”Come sit first.”
>She leads you to the nearest chair, the one obviously different from the rest.
>Of course, it’s the one closest to the door.
>As your body meets the wood, a huff of satisfaction escapes your lips.
>That was a lot of walking.


>No sooner had you sunk into the chair did Celestia wrap herself around you.
>Her head rests on your chest, listening to your quickened heart.
>Her wings contain you like a feathery cage and brush against your skin.
>You breathe heavily for want of air while she sighs contently, nuzzling a little further into you.
>The room seems deathly quiet, yet you pay it little mind as you rest your eyes.
>Once your heartbeat settles, she’s content to let you go.

>”You could have taken the chariot, you know.”
>Her voice sounds sullen, perhaps even containing pity.
“I know.”
>That was never really an option.
“I’ll never stop walking, you know.”
>Your voice matches her tone.
>”I know.”

>The rest look on in curiosity, except for Cadence who held an unfortunate smile.
>She is also the one to break the resulting silence.
>”Everyp0ny, this is Anon. Anon, these are Princess Luna”
>”Greetings.”
>” Princess Twilight Sparkle,”
>”Hello.”
>”My husband and her brother, Shining Armor.”
>”Sup.”
>”Rainbow Dash,”
>”Yo.”
>”Fluttershy,”
>”h..hi.”
>”Rarity,”
>”A pleasure.”
“Pinkie Pie,”
>”Hi~!”
“and Applejack.”
>”Howdy.”
>That’s a lot of introductions.

>Celestia steps away and the others take that as their cue to walk up to you.
“I’ve heard a lot about you all, especially you Elements. The whole world’s been talking about your exploits.”
>”Oh, oh, what’d they say?”
>The pink one seems quite excited at that news.
>She’s going to destroy her seat with that kind of bouncing.
>The blue seemed the most interested.

“Well, the changeling attack and the new princess are probably the biggest topics right now. The buffalo aren’t exactly happy with how the moon changed, but they blamed that on me.”
>”Why would they blame you?”
>You just shrug at the purple one’s question, though you know exactly why.
>It always feels weird when you explain you’re on their pantheon.


>”Anything else? Maybe about our super cool adventure in the Crystal Kingdom? Or our wild run-in with Discord?”
>The blue one was clearly expecting more.
“Let’s see... There was some talk about trouble in the north, but it was mostly just considered rumors. The griffons were pretty occupied with a bit of infighting at the time. Did those things really happen?”
>”Yup yup yup!”
>Pinkie liked to talk, that much was clear.
>”Absolutely, and it was dreadful. But we all came together in the end and everything worked out splendidly.”
>The white one made sure to emphasize that they did it together.

>”The buffalo give ya any trouble? They ain’t exactly the most welcomin’, but they usually mean well.”
>Seems the orange one had some face to face time with them before.
“No trouble, really. We have an…understanding. Which reminds me... Celestia, I heard that there was some trouble on the border of the buffalo awhile ago. I told you they hated trees.”
>Celestia gives an ‘I’m innocent’ smile and tries to recall the information.
>”Yes, it seems you did, many years ago. A compromise was reached and things are better than before.”
>Well that’s good; you forgot to ask the buffalo about that.

>”Our sister has told us much about you and your tricks, Anon.”
>The midnight mare presented some papers on the buffalo.
>”We’ve all been briefed. You have some powerful friends.”
>The white guard added some more based on the griffons.
>”I’m gonna have to enter that race.”
>An account of the Zebras dropped from the blue hoof.
>”I’m glad you got away from that dragon.”
>The yellow one had closed the folder almost as soon as she opened it.
>So some of the stories have travelled to the ponies.


“I’ve had my moments here and there. I’m sure both Princess Celestia and Princess Cadence have gone quite in-depth with my history, given their roles in it. From what I’ve seen and heard, you are all quite the growing legends and I’m sure they will tell your tale for years to come.”
>Their exploits are becoming world-renowned; at this point they’re already household names.
“Hundreds and thousands will sing and write about you, and you have so much time to go on even more amazing adventures. Allow me to share but a few moments of your time and tell a story just for the sake of telling it.”
>They all take to their seats, with Celestia and Cadence taking the spot on either side of you.

“Let me tell you of the Nurse and the Orphan.”

“Somewhere on my world, before I came here, two trains crashed into each other. They tore into each other ripping the machines to shreds followed by fire joining the wreckage. When help arrived they only found a single child, a girl covered in scars and burns. They rushed her to the hospital and operated immediately. Three of her four limbs had to be amputated to save her life, and the accident had also permanently damaged one of her eyes. She was lucky to survive, but who can say that’s how she felt.”
>You hated telling the ponies sad stories; they always got invested in a character’s emotions.


“Among those lost were the child’s parents. Some distant family still remained, but with the condition she was in they had no desire to take her in. When the girl was deemed healed enough to leave the hospital she had no place to go. With such intensive needs the usual places couldn’t accept her, yet she no longer required the hospital’s full care. As a rare case she ended up in a specialized nursing home; a place where old people are taken when their family can no longer take care of them. She was alone in a place with no one even close to her age, cut off and forgotten by the rest of the world.”
>It is such a harsh intro to a story, but that’s how it goes.

“A young man had started working as a nurse at the home not too long ago. He was educated in medicine though his job mostly just required handing out pills, and making sure the elderly didn’t have problems through the night. He took pity on the girl, but there were very strict rules in place for how much he could help her. Anything beyond medical concerns was generally frowned upon, and an act of kindness could be deemed inappropriate enough to cost him his job.”
>Some of them gasped and seethed at such a rule.
>It is practically an attack on their very nature.

“Still, the nurse could not just stand by, and so started meeting her on his late night shifts. With so few people around at night he could more easily sneak off and join her in her room. At first he brought her small gifts like chocolate and a teddy bear. They shared their hobbies with each other, and talked about happy things. Slowly the girl started to confide in him her fears and pain. She started to see him as a bit of support, no matter how small it was. This did not go unnoticed by those in charge.”
>They finally start to warm up to the story, though they remain teetering on the edge.


“His job was at risk. They gave him a warning, and consulted the experts who were treating the girl in the day on what they should do. The experts spoke in favor of his actions, revealing that he was having a positive effect on the girl. Her self confidence and determination had risen lately; she felt worth something to somebody again. Convinced the nurse was left with just the warning, and he now hinted at the possibility of adopting the girl.”
>Pinkie was practically doing fist pumps.

“Adoption is a very slow process, and when you are directly involved like the nurse it becomes even harder. While things were set in motion the nurse and the girl would go out on trips every so often. She was still very self conscious about her appearance, and did everything possible to fake being normal. One time he even took her to visit his family, and they all welcomed her. He told them his hope of adopting her and they fully supported him. They were honestly smitten with the girl, and already held her in their hearts.”
>Smiles grew on each of their face with the hints of optimism.

“Life continued with its ups and downs, and the two became more than nurse and patient. When the nurse’s father got very sick she helped the nurse get through the pain. When she felt upset and worthless he reminded her how special she really was. Even though the records didn’t show it, they had become like family.”
>You let that last sentence hang in the air.
>Moments pass in silence as they wait for you to continue.
>Eventually it sunk in that you were done speaking.

>You saw the yellow one move her lips, but you couldn’t quite make it out.
“What was that? I’m a little hard of hearing.”
>”Did they ever let the nurse adopt her?”
“I don’t know, and I’ll probably never know. But what do you think happened? What outcome was there for a pair who has been through so much?”
>”I think they lived happily ever after.”
“Maybe Fluttershy, maybe.”


===================================================================================================================
Epilogue
===================================================================================================================

>Age had caught up with you over this long journey.
>Each day your muscles ached a little more; your stamina became less and less.
>Your body served you well these many years.
>You’ve seen more of this world than most of its natural inhabitants.
>You fooled a dragon with marriage.
>You escaped the heat and won the Great Race.
>You became the Earthly representation of a deity to the buffalo.
>You helped a griffon reach the throne.
>Through strength, wits, and a lot of luck you saw old age.
>All of your friends continue to grow old.
>But you were the first to go.

>No one knows when or where; your body was never found.
>They only knew you hadn’t been seen on the trails, and you had not graced any fires.
>Minotaurs and diamond dogs searched the hills and mountains.
>Griffons and dragons searched the sky.
>Zebras called your name during the great race and the buffalo left out offerings during migration.
>Ponies of all types searched for a time, but were the first to stop.
>Celestia and Cadence were the only ones you told the life expectancy of humans.
>They knew the day had come.

>Perhaps in history as a footnote your deeds will be remembered.
>Or a tradition will take hold based on your exploits.
>You had many names and titles; Turtle, Trickster, Treasure, Diplomat, Friend and Foe.
>Yet there was one above them all, for the one who shared the legends of others.
>In books of fiction and non you will forever live on.
>As Anon the Storyteller.


Source: Nurse-kun and Amputee-tan/ Damaged Goods
https://github.com/bibanon/bibanon/wiki/Damaged-Goods
https://encyclopediadramatica.es/Nurse-kun
Origin: 4chan (/b/ December 2006 – June 2007)