“Now that you have proven your worth by recovering my hats from the P.R.A.N.K.S.T.E.R.S.,” lysyy says, adjusting the third hat on his head, “ I have a favor to ask. Long ago before I began making hats, I was a loremaster and story teller that journeyed the Amber Roads looking for adventure to weave into mystical tales to wow my audiences.”
Pausing for a moment to pull his second hat down a bit conscientiously, the zwerc continues his tale. “As I traveled I soon realized that I had the power within me to not only tell stories, but to also help in their creation. I could make baubles great and small that were linked to me, and through them I could collect more stories. I had to dabble in some questionable arts, sure, but nothing about them seemed too dire. I set up a transportable shop and went about looking for special kinds of people to sell too—not ordinary travelers, but those that would do great and glorious deeds, or seek dark and hidden knowledge. I sold custom items and through my customers I began to weave even greater stories, until on my travels I ran into a very curious dwarf named Bailey.”
Iyssy stops for a moment, as if searching for the right words to continue (you suspect that this is not a common occurrence.) “Bailey was shy, almost painfully so, but deep down he loved to perform. It was here that I decided to make him a most special item; something I should not have done. You see I made him a top hat, and I poured my own brassiness, confidence, and demeanor into that particular chapeau. It was meant to help Bailey, to inspire him to great deeds and great performances.”
What seems to be a tear appears at the edge of Iyssy’s eye, but then is swiftly gone, quick enough that it may have been a performance or may have been real, perhaps so well-rehearsed Iyssy doesn’t even know. “Instead, I’m afraid, it drove him mad. It compelled him to perform and each time he did so, he lost a small piece of himself and had to run and cower away in the deepest corners of the Amber Roads, away from anyone. It drove him to seek out places where he could find true solace—yet the hat would always drive him back into the public eye. I’m afraid it was all too much for him. Perhaps as my penance, through the hat I could feel it all until it finally stopped.”
“Please locate Bailey and the hat for me; I must destroy my creation and never again make another. I fear that the P.R.A.N.K.S.T.E.R.S. will find it and what they might do with the powerful thing, but I’m not sure where to find the hat—perhaps somewhere on the Amber Roads, or somewhere in a lonely cavern. I do know that if those nefarious criminals are looking for it, they may already have some good ideas. The granite dust that you found earlier, start with that. Venture to the Granite Grotto; the answers I need you to seek for me are likely found there. Please, do this favor for me. I can’t offer much, perhaps some gold or perhaps one of my other fine hats, but please do this for me.”
With that Iyssy turns back toward his storage cave, continuing to update the inventory of his disturbed stockpile of hats.
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