A historian?  He perked when he told him that.  How interesting a life that must have been.  In his years of training he underwent so many years of study of so many different cultures, all of them were fascinating even if they were meant to teach him about the seemingly endless types of vampires.  It was one of the reasons he had such a strong wanderlust.  He loved learning about new places, even if what brought him to them weren’t always very lighthearted reasons.  For a moment he tried to think about what it would be like to grow up with a scholar as a parent.  In many ways his parents were teachers, but it wasn’t the same.  They taught for fighting, for survival, not merely for the thirst of knowledge.
 
As for the hunting, he wasn’t sure what to say to him.  He knew that if he were the kind of hunter that he was thinking of then he’d of course let him come along.  He had no qualms with sharing any wealth that came his way, especially since he didn’t really need so much of it due to how much he had from his household, but…unfortunately he’d have to decline.  Guilt tossed around in the back of his skull, probably spurred on even stronger by Minasé as he shook his head, “As much as I’d love to have company on my missions I unfortunately must decline.  If it’s silver that you desire though, I always have plenty of that to spare.”
 
His eyes shifted, growing more playful as he thought about the types of games and such that went on in taverns, “Perhaps we can make a game of it.  Put silver on each challenge.  You must have great skill with a bow, being a hunter yourself.”   It wasn’t that he didn’t want him to come along, or to even have to keep avoiding the subject, but he knew that unless he wanted to blow his cover he’d have to keep up the omissions.  On top of that, he wasn’t sure what type of person he was and in no way wanted to offend him by merely giving him silver.  Some people saw it as pity, he didn’t think of it that way, he just had no problem parting with what he could.
 
He continued on with his previous statement, “Maybe we could have a game of archery.”   His thoughts shifted, “Or…would you mind telling me some of the things your father taught you?  You said he was a historian, I love history, learning about other places and times.  I’d gladly pay you for teaching me…”   And that was the truth.  It would be nice to learn about something knowing that its intent was knowledge itself and not a lead up for something to be used.  Not often did he think about how very different his upbringing was from others, but during moments like this he couldn’t help but see the extreme differences.

That he had not expected. Sure he knew a lot of history from his family’s old accounts and his father’s stories, but most dealt directly with his families work. Avoiding that subject was becoming a job. Although the prospect of a game intrigued him. In his younger years he had played many archery games with his father as a means of training. Eventually the games had gone from youthful fun to hunting animals, and eventually hunting each other. A task that took him nearly three decades to master. He could remember the frustration of trying to hunt a person who had spent hundreds of years training that very skill. He still felt that his father had always gone easy on him.
 
“How about a mix of both?” He could use his father’s stories but just omit the messier details. “A game of archery in which, instead of coin, we pay in stories.” He was getting excited at the thought of the game. He would have to miss on purpose periodically though. After over ninety years of archery, missing just wasn’t something that happened to him often, or even rarely.
 
“Once we find a place for our game let’s say we each call out targets in turn and the other has to try to hit them. If we hit, the other must tell us a tale, when we miss the other gets a point. After ten shots the one with the most points wins.” It was the first game of archery he had learned from his father. It had been his way of pushing him to get better while teaching him history in a way that somehow made learning a fun reward. He had loved every minute of it.
 
He knew he was probably smiling too much at the prospect but, in the last few years, games had been a distant memory. Having to care for his ailing father had become his life until his passing. And now that he was on his own journey, sure there were many wonders to behold and things to draw his attention, but so far it had been a fairly lonely trip. His father had spoken about the many friends that he had made in his years, maybe this would be his first. “And as payment for hospitality and teaser I’ll tell you one now.”
 

He thought of the first story his father had told him in their game. It had been a simple one, but enough to entice his young mind into daydreaming of things he could one day see. “My father once told me of a land on the continent of Parvpora where he met some of the world’s greatest minds. The people of these plains had learned to build men. Well, they were not men like you and I. They were bigger than regular men and much stronger. They called them Golems, and they used them to build a great civilization based on trade. They did this because the land had been suffering from a very long drought and this helped the people by taking the burden off of them. Can you imagine a place where humans do nothing and instead giant man made men wander around everywhere doing all the work? I can’t fathom what that place must look like now. It’s one of the ones I want to visit the most. 

Now this was a very different sort of game, one that he could already tell he'd find great enjoyment in. He wasn't sure if he'd have too many interesting stories to tell him in return, but perhaps that would sharpen his aim all the more. His life wasn't dull, but it was strange and often times a bit too serious than he'd have liked to admit. And where it wasn't serious it was familial, and most likely would be uninteresting to others. Still, he looked forward to it, it wasn’t often that he was able to do something fun and lighthearted just for the sake of it.


His eyebrows rose as he listened to his story, trying to imagine a world where man had no manual labor to do. It certainly had the potential to make things easier and more efficient, but it also ran the risk of people becoming upset. While he had more than enough to live off of and had the skills to go without money should the need arise, he knew that that wasn’t so for everyone. People also had a habit of getting stuck in their ways and he doubted coin would be given up so easily. Then again he could be wrong, humanity could prove itself. "You can’t really think that." He ignored Minasé and lifted up his glass.


"If that’s a teaser for the types of stories you have to tell then I fear I’ve already lost in that regard." He smiled and took a draw from his glass, tilting his head back all the way to finish it off in one go and rested the glass back onto the bar top. There was only a slight burn at the back of his throat as proof that he’d had anything with alcohol to drink at all.


Where to go for something like this though? Out of the city would be best, much safer that way with a lower chance of a civilian getting caught in their line of fire. His arms folded on the bar top and he leaned on them, muscles eased already, "Should we go now then? Perhaps the walk out of the city will muster up something decent for me to tell you."

He felt full of energy again. “Why sure, I’ve never been one to stay idle too long,” which was very true. When you spend nearly every day for one hundred years training mind and body, sitting still was just not something you did for long, even if it was to eat or sleep. When he stood he once again felt the effects of the drink, but only for a second. He quickly regained his footing.
 
“Don’t worry about the stories, when the time comes you’ll think of something. And as my mother would tell my father, ‘just because a story is dull and ordinary to you, that doesn’t mean others won’t find it intriguing.’ She loved to hear of his adventures as much as I did.” Once again the thought of his parents brought a smile to his face, especially his mother who had been gone for so long.
 

“Well, you know the city better than I so I will let you lead the way.” He stepped back from the bar to let Naota past him. His thoughts wandered to what story he could tell next. All would be of his father of course, since his journey had just begun, and he had heard so many growing up. But what to tell without giving away what his family was? Oh well, as he had just said, it will come to him when it’s time.     

[ OOC:  This is a wrap up post for this thread so that we can start a new one, I have permission to move them out of the tavern. ]

Once again he felt the instinct to reach out and stabilize him but it seemed as if he was gaining his bearings on how to hold himself with his newfound intoxication.  Either his metabolism was quite high or it was something else entirely, either way it made him smile.  As he moved up from his seat he pulled out five gold coins and rested them on the table before turning to lead him outside.   “Your mother sounds like a smart woman.”  The corner of his lips quirked up into a light side smile as they moved out of the tavern.

The sun was past its highest point now so the heat wasn’t as pressing as it could have been, but there was a constant light breeze to chase away any lingering warmth.  There were plenty of places for them to go about with their game, but closer to an outskirt would probably be the safest bet, and would give them the most freedom to pick and choose their challenges.

It wasn’t too often that he was able to make friends, it was nice to know that he still had it in him to do so.  Even as a child his brothers and he had such a professional upbringing that there was hardly any room for simple play with others.  Other students at their training, perhaps, but even games could be taken too seriously or were encouraged to go in that direction.  Being light for the sake of being light was something he was still getting himself accustomed to.

With Calix it was easy to be laid back though.  Something about him reminded him of a child, but it was in no way meant as an insult.  He had an outlook on life that most people lost: the wonder was stricken from their eyes over years of hardship and responsibility.  Not from him though.  It taught him a lesson that unfortunately his trainers had forgotten, and that was to live.  Not merely survive.