"Do you know any good stories about a Demi-Human?"

From within the red and white tattered cloak wrapped around the elderly man's frame, a hand emerged to scratch at his crooked chin. An eyebrow raising slightly as he peered towards the speaker.
"Want to know more of the walking rugs? I suppose I'm not one to put down a person's choice."

The words were laced with obvious distance as he turned aside, spitting out a wad of green herbs he'd been chewing. In a steady sweeping motion the Storyteller swept out his remaining hidden arm, drawing free the remaining hidden arm and the half broken white branch he'd been harbouring within. Atop, buried in winding roots a lightly shimmering sphere of blue rested, casting a pale blue glow over his cheek.

"I suppose I've not brought up the one called-"