What's that?...You want another story?- Well speak up…I can be a little hard of hearing at times you know- and if I get too lost in my thoughts it may take a while for me to remember exactly what I was up to- too many arrows hitting my helmet, you see. You'd think I'd have a concussion by now! If you think I'm taking too long- speak up! I won't bite- unlike an ill-tempered half-dragon child! You might need to shout in my ear…but I will always, gladly tell a story.

Hmmm….let's see- why not-… why not a story about storytellers themselves!

Now where to begin- and how did it go?

There was one….but I'm not sure if you all would like it- or if you're fed up with me already…

Continue?...Alright!

Back in the day one of the greatest, but less well known storytellers was a young man known as Skystone- he loved to spin tales from thin air, using his audience and his experiences as inspiration; only writing the stories down after the first telling so that he could perfect them and save them for a later date. People were amazed by the level of skill, such a young storyteller could possess and were delighted to find that Skystone rarely even had to pause as he told the new story out loud, which even the more talented storytellers(of which there were few) could not do as well as Skystone.

In many people's opinion Skystone was the best storyteller that they had heard speak; besides weaving one or two stories out of his clever mind during each performance, his plots and characters were always well thought out, and there was always a balance between tragedy and comedy that kept people on the edge of their seats as they wondered what would happen next. He was agreeable and friendly by nature and would happily lower his price if someone was not capable of paying the low fee he had already set for his time. He traveled from place to place constantly- stopping in each and every town on his path to one city or another. The man dressed well, but not well enough to set him too far apart from his customers that no one would approach him to hire him- but at the same time presentable enough to the higher class citizens who might have wanted him to entertain their guests at some party or holiday. In fact Skystone had only two major faults in his career- his lack of recognition and his jealousy, which when combined together did not make for a happy Skystone.

Many times Skystone had been brushed aside when another, better known storyteller arrived in a town or asked about the job, many times Skystone had shown up to a job only to be told that they had found someone else to do the job they had hired him to do. And one day these same circumstances played out in such a way that the young storyteller found himself standing in the cold rain waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Skystone had been approached by a customer almost as soon as he'd entered the gates of Riverwood- which was a fairly wealthy place; of course the storyteller immediately agreed, shook the man's hand, and then went on his way with an address and a reminder penciled in his notebook to be in Riverwood on the twenty-sixth of May. Which was only a few days away. But later that afternoon, Skystone was again approached by another customer who wanted him to speak on the same date and nearly the same time- he had to reluctantly refuse as even though the pay was much more than what his first customer had agreed to pay he had decided long ago to stay loyal to his customers. But he still promised to show up at the customer's event if his previous engagement didn't work out, shaking the man's hand and going on his own way with the knowledge that the man had said he would be happy to hire him as well as anyone else they had already hired in during the time between now and the twenty-sixth.

The twenty-sixth came and Skystone arrived at his customer's door a few minutes early as planned, so that he could ask which stories were wanted and gather some idea of what would be liked best. But almost as soon as he'd knocked on the door, the man who had hired answered the door and told him that they had found someone else- that he was no longer needed. When Skystone stiffly asked who they had found to replace him, why the man had not honored their agreement, and why he had not been informed of all of this before he showed up at the door- all the while thinking of the other job he had let go only a few days before. The man simply replied that the great storyteller, Irontooth had been hired because they might never get another chance to hear his stories, as Irontooth was infamously hard to hire. The older storyteller was always snatched up by the nobles and the higher classed citizens before the likes of Skystone's ex-customer could hire him, and the man had thought that Irontooth would be more popular with his guests.

Outraged, Skystone stormed away without another word- immediately he found his way to the second customer's gate and politely requested that he speak with the man who had offered to hire him. He had to wait nearly a half-hour out in the cold rain with only a large oak to shield him from the slowly falling droplets of water, and when he finally was invited inside his teeth were chattering to the point he could hardly speak. He was hopeful that the man would hire him, regardless of the late notice. Skystone explained his situation as best he could and then calmly asked if the man would still hire him for the job.

But AGAIN, he found himself turned away, because the man had hired Irontooth!

Beyond angry, the storyteller turned and left without so much as a goodbye- brushing aside the owner's heartfelt apology with only a few quick words and an angered glare. He left, upset by the lack of loyalty of his employers. If it had ended there, nothing would have come out of this except for that one horrible day that Skystone went through. But as luck or fate would have it, the storyteller was turned away again and again- in favor of Irontooth. Irontooth was hired by the Inn where he was staying, Irontooth was telling his stories at the town hall, Irontooth was hired by three or four of his usual customers- everywhere he looked Irontooth, Irontooth, Irontooth, IRONTOOTH!

To Skystone it seemed as if the whole town had gone mad and promptly left a few weeks earlier than he had planned, unable to cope with one more mention of Irontooth's revered name. A few days on the trail seemed to settle his mind, but as soon as he got to the next town he found that the same thing that was happening in Riverwood was happening here- apparently Irontooth had not only decided to take his customers but also his route as well. The same route he had kept for five long years- a route that no other storyteller had crossed and a client list that not one of them had disrupted as much as Irontooth managed to in just a few short months. He left for the next town the next day, but with the reputation that Irontooth had- no one would hire Skystone even if Irontooth wouldn't be there for a month. One town after another, and Skystone found his usual employers turning him away again and again and again! He barely managed to find enough odd jobs along with the sparse amount of customers (in Skystone's mind, Irontooth's crumbs) that still wanted him to tell his stories, to keep himself fed. And what had once been an easy job for the young storyteller became a nightmare that slowly drove him mad- Irontooth followed him everywhere he went, even when he changed his route, and if it wasn't Irontooth it was another storyteller more famous than he was. Poor Skystone just couldn't catch a break and after four or five months of this madness he couldn't take it any longer.

His pleasant life had been turned upside down and his career RUINED by Irontooth- he began to loath the man; his stories became heated and filled with rage- the tales corrupted with his hatred as the one thing he truly loved to do was slowly being taken away from him- until no one would hire him for fear that he would burst out in rage at the mere mention of another storyteller. In Skystone's mind, Irontooth had stolen his life from him...and this led to the thought that maybe he should take something from Irontooth.

So, here Skystone stood in the pouring rain without a coin in his pocket to buy a room for the night in even the most run down of the inns. A dagger hidden under his shirt, even though he meant no harm to Irontooth- he only wanted the large leather bound books the storyteller carried everywhere with him- in a sense Irontooth's life- his life's work. That was what Skystone wanted- Irontooth had stolen his life away from him, so he would steal Irontooth's life in the cruelest of ways for a storyteller and make the man pay for all that he'd done to the younger man that had once done quite well for himself and could have very well been the next Irontooth. He watched and waited in the cold, cold rain- his breath forming small white clouds as his icy glare stayed glued to the front door of the house the storyteller had rented.

Hours passed, and then finally the old man stepped out the front door in a warm fur coat, a coat that only made him hate the man more- he had been forced to sell some of his better clothes for money to buy food and now had to face the bitter cold with only a thin ragged shirt that made it even harder for him to find any customers. He waited a while longer to make sure his rival was really gone- checked to see that no one was around, and then sprinted to the tall fence that surrounded the back of the building- scaled it and leaped down to the other side. Once in the backyard, just like a character from one of his stories- he began to climb up the stone wall of the house until he managed to find the window that looked into the storyteller's room. He knew this was the storyteller's room because he had watched the lights go on and off in the house long enough and seen the storyteller's shadow pass by the window often enough to know that this was the room he slept in.

Using his dagger, he lifted the latch on the window and quickly opened the panes of glass and slipped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the large chest sitting at the foot of the unmade bed- that had been idiotically left open for all to see the well-worn leather books sitting inside. Creeping across the floor on silent feet, Skystone grabbed one of the thick books and flipped it open to see long paragraphs of well written words- story after story scrawled across the pages in effortless handwriting that flowed and dipped elegantly along with the tales enclosed in the paper. Giving out a small laugh of joy at his turn of luck, Skystone continued to flip through book after book to make sure that each held finished stories and were not merely lists of appointments and notes about how it might be best to go about ruining Skystone's career- whatever fragment of it he still had left.

In his eagerness and excitement, the storyteller didn't hear the footsteps creeping up behind him until it was too late.

"Who are you?!" a loud voice boomed out, disrupting the silence that Skystone had kept- lest the neighbors hear him and send the police over to get him.

"Who are you?!" Skystone cried, turning around to see a towering figure in a brilliant silver robe which marked him instantly as a sorcerer.

"Irontooth's brother, Silverfang- and I asked you what is your name, Thief!?"

"I-I..." Skystone stuttered, fear sinking into the depths of his heart, even more than if he had been backed up against a cliff face with a horde of Creepers headed right for him.

"If you like stories so much my friend, then why don't you let me test a new spell I've been working on- I know my brother wouldn't approve, but this can be our little secret, alright thief?" the sorcerer, Silverfang snarled angrily as he gave no opportunity for the frightened storyteller to even give him a proper response. Picking up an empty book from the desk that sat beside the door, the sorcerer swung the book at the scrawny thief as he shouted out a few words in Rune- the book connected with Skystone's head...

…and then everything went black.

For a while he drifted in and out- a low thoughtful, murmuring voice droning on and on in the background like a warm fire crackling at a distance- sometimes he awoke to a black and white world that made no sense at all- then would come a brief flicker of pain and then the same nothingness that had engulfed him before.

"What's the matter, brother?" A familiar voice asked, although Skystone could not place it.

"I can't seem to get this character right, Silverfang- I seem to know who he is only to lose the whole story!" another voice complained- the same voice that was always muttering to itself, Skystone noted.

"It'll come to you eventually, it always does! I will love to hear what you've done with him!"

"Done with him- what do you mean, Fang?"

"Oh- only that you always seem to get your characters into more trouble than they seem capable of getting out of!" the first voice laughed, a hint of nervousness in its tone.

"That's the interesting part, brother!" the other protested with a chuckle of his own.

Everything faded away again.

Trees and land took shape slowly, people emerged and stood as still as stone in black, white, and gray colors for days and weeks on end until slowly brilliant hues began to bleed into their clothing and faces- then they began to move and speak. Skystone watched in a dazed trance, not quite sure where or who he was- not sure what to make of the world around him and all the strangeness it seemed to be made of. So he sat and simply watched as the world was created around him- and then as if on their own accord, one day his feet carried him into the town he'd been able to see from the small hill he'd been sitting on underneath a beautiful old oak.

Slowly memories came back to him of a small house on the edge of the town where his father was a blacksmith and his mother a seamstress- memories of fighting strange beasts in the woods and stealing from merchants just to survive after he had left home. He was headed home now, that's all that mattered the last few days and the people forming from nothing were surely just a figment of some strange midnight dream. Though when after he settled back down in the little village, the strangest events began to play out around him- people that needed to be rescued, things that needed to be found and suddenly he found himself hunted and chased by all manners of enemies- assassins, evil shadow creatures that could suck the life out of a person on contact, corrupted sheriffs- but the worst of the lot was a thief named just that- Thief.

Though Theif wasn't as evil a character as some of the other's he had encountered, Skystone always got this awful feeling when he looked at the man- there was just something so familiar about him. Every time Skystone encountered Thief that strange feeling tugged at the back of his mind- images, sounds, people, and places-...memories that didn't seem to be his. They plagued his sleep at night and troubled him day after day, more worrying was the memory of the murmuring voices that sounded so loud and yet so far away- dreams that didn't seem like dreams of the people he'd come to know and love forming out of the blank white canvas that had once been this world. More worrying yet was the fact that every time he was assaulted by these "memories" the voice he'd heard in those strange dreams of the world forming around him returned, often giving voice to the activates taking place around Skystone- sometimes playing out differently than what was actually occurring- but ending with the same result. One thing Skystone noticed though was that he seemed to be the only one that could hear and resist the voice...for example if it said that Thief would swing his sword...Skystone knew that Thief was going to swing his sword sometimes ten minutes before his opponent ever would. He had been walking down the streets of the town he lived in only to hear the voice start up again- going on and on about how Thief had waited for hours to attack Skystone or had followed him for miles...and when the hero would turn around- there down the road would be Thief- always creeping up on him...never trying to steal from him- only ever trying to remind him of something...something important. Skystone wondered what it was...but the voice never let Thief tell him.

Despite all this Skystone was rather content- the voice did him no harm...in fact it actually seemed to help him out and as odd as it was he would rather believe that he just had some form of precognition or something of the same brand as such an ability, then allow himself to believe that he was trapped somewhere. He had a warm house all to himself, plenty of friends, and the best life he could have ever possibly imagined. It made no difference to him that some of the people he met along the way seemed so familiar- that they brought "memories" of a warm fire and a crowd of people or a quiet desk with a quill in his hand as he decided on what this person or that should look like. He merely shrugged off the feeling that the voice had said what he had before, and that he couldn't remember when the voice had said such a thing. It didn't matter that every now and then the world seemed to shake without anyone else noticing or that thunder sometimes sounded like the rumble of wagon wheels and horseshoes against cobblestone. He ignored it all...until that one day-

Skystone was sleeping soundly in his bed when suddenly out of the blue something pulled him up out of his dreams and into his reality.

Something was wrong...something was very wrong.

He sat still and waited...and waited- when he was just about to lay down...he heard it- a voice...but it wasn't the voice- no,...something was wrong, horribly- terribly wrong.

Sitting up he climbed out of bed, grabbing his weapons on the way out as he went to investigate the annoying buzzing in his ear that was defiantly not the voice. For some strange reason he was angrier and more afraid than he'd ever been in his life- this voice had no right to be here, where was the voice who watched over him- who warned him about enemies and storms? The sky was cloudy and gray above him as he stepped out onto his porch, listening to the voice that rang out overhead...this time though it was not warning Skystone, it was not even describing the world around him as it was usually so content to do. No, as he stood there in shock he heard angry words and curses that could only spell trouble. Was Voice in danger? Skystone couldn't stand this thought, the voice had warned him time and time again about the danger he'd faced- often times he had brushed it aside and went on his way only to end up cursing himself for not listening to the advice of his invisible friend.

The different voice was not the only thing that was different this time- this time the people around him seemed to hear it too...and of course they were afraid. Suddenly a woman spotted him across the street- a person he had never seen before in all of his years in the town- which was startling to say the least since he knew everyone by name and no one new had arrived in the village in years. The woman though apparently knew HIS name because she went sprinting down the street as fast as her legs could carry her until she was right in front of him.

"Mister- Mister Skystone! You have to stop him, he plans on throwing the book in the river- if he does we'll all drown!" The woman screamed, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him down the road- confused and terrified Skystone tried to pull his arm free- but no matter how he tried he couldn't seem to get free of the woman's unusually strong grasp.

She led him down into the mines near the little town to a gleaming green portal made of quartz and obsidian set into the very mouth of the mine- something he was sure had never been there before.

And without a moment to protest the woman wordlessly shoved him out into the cold, wet night...just as the book was lifted into the air as its unrightful owner prepared to send it hurtling into the water below the old bridge where the fiend stood ready to destroy countless hours and days of work in spite.

Skystone the storyteller hit the ground with a loud thump- a thump loud enough to rattle the wooden boards of the bridge and turn the other man around.

Memories and images raced back to him- white hot shame filling him when he realized what he had been about to do so long ago in Irontooth's room- stealing those stories would've been as bad as destroying them...just as this man planned to do now. Coughing and hacking pitifully, the storyteller stood slowly to his feet as the other man on the bridge backed away and quickly pulled a knife from his belt. Skystone determined to set things right was about to put on the best show of his life- one where he would play the character he'd created instead of simply creating a fictional story around that character in their small little fictional world.

"P-please d-don't hurt me...I-I've been trapped in that book for so long...please- let me live, sir!" He begged, making himself look as sick and pitiable as he could- which was hard to do since the clothes he had been wearing inside of the story had followed him out into the real world- the fine diamond sword and the rich clothing more than enough proof that he was well off.

"Trapped in the book?" the man laughed hoarsely, "You don't expect me to believe that do you? I'm not an idiot- you're no more Skystone then you are a flying pig!" he continued, slipping the book into the bag he had over his shoulder. Instantly the fear in Skystone's heart lessened by just a little- the book was safe for now. "You're just some fool who saw what I had, and happened to have an Ender pearl and a good enough aim to get over here- probably thought you could just snatch it out of my hand didn't you?"

"Well you're right about that, I don't expect you to believe it. Even if it's true, you're too much of an idiot to see what's right in front of you?" Skystone retorted, having been inside enough of his characters' minds to know exactly how to push this man into making a mistake.

"AN IDIOT!"

"If you know the hero of the story, then you must know what he looks like!" Skystone snorted. "And you have to remember the storyteller that went missing a few years ago by the same name! Surely you don't think it's a coincidence?" He argued, acting insulted enough to make the man grow even angrier.

"You take me for a fool-!" the man yelled, stepping closer and Skystone drew his sword.

"Take one look inside that book and tell me what you see." Skystone snarled, "One look and if you still don't believe me then I'll leave here and now and you'll never hear another word about this- but I have to warn you whether you believe me or not- if you try to destroy the book like I did you'll be trapped inside of it!" He continued- the last part made the other man hesitate.

"Fine, I'll humor you- just drop that blade, and no tricks now!" the man answered angrily.

Skystone planted his sword in the worn, soaked wood of the bridge.

The man pulled the book from his satchel and flipped it open to the first page.

"The adventures of...wait- it's blank- it-it-it's blank!" The man cried, fear slipping into his voice as he frantically flipped through the pages only to find that more than half of the book was missing- where there had been delicately penned lines only minutes before...now there was nothing- nothing that had ever mentioned Skystone was left in the story...nothing.

"Told you- and you'll be trapped any second now...it's already locked onto you- and I'll be free!" Skystone laughed as the fear grew in the man's eyes.

"No- no, no, no! You take it- I don't want it!" the man cried and with that he tossed the book at the storyteller, who just barely managed to catch it in time to save it from the puddles of water beneath his feet.

"You fool- you'll kill us both!" Skystone shouted, but the man continued to back away faster and faster, until he turned and ran away as fast as his legs would take him into the deep, cold twilight.

When the man was out of sight and hearing...Skystone bowed as he had done on so many nights after a performance, a smile spread across his face and a laugh built up in his throat at the fool's ignorance. Then he picked up his sword, put it back in its sheath and started down the road in the opposite direction that his enemy had gone- the precious book tucked under his arm.

He walked for days and days on end, the coins in his pocket had somehow managed to change into Minecraftian coin so that he was never without food or a place to rest- no one recognized him, and he found that the real world while it was certainly refreshing to be in again wasn't as comfortable as a place as the world within the pages of Irontooth's book.

For Skystone the book was whole and complete, he could read and enjoy every word that had been written by the talented storyteller he had once unfairly loathed. The plots and characters were well thought out, the imagery beautifully detailed and complete- balanced perfectly with the story so that it was neither to boring or too quick to progress. His respect for the man grew, now that his head was clear of everything that had happened in the past- Irontooth's brother could have easily killed him on the spot for what he had done...but he hadn't and Skystone rather appreciated that. His anger had faded and as so often happens when someone comes to their senses they realize that there was nothing to be angry about in the first place. It seemed his time within the pages of that old leather bound book had calmed him down enough to see that his actions had not been wise ones- being the man he was Skystone promised himself that he would make it right no matter the cost to himself.

The more and more he traveled though in search of anyone who knew where Irontooth was- was that although people did not recognize him as the storyteller that had gone missing so long ago...they recognized his name- the look of joy that crossed their face whenever he gave them his name...it was an amazing feeling to bring a smile like that to someone's face once again- and he found that he quite liked it when people went on and on about Irontooth's stories now- not because they were in a way talking about him, but because he had seen the intracansy and the love that the old storyteller had put into his tales. Irontooth had made him a hero- someone to look up to and emulate- Irontooth had made him more famous than he ever could have been on his own...he had given him a fine house, kind-hearted and trustworthy friends, and a beautiful world to explore- one that was all his...he was starting to realize that. The fine clothes, the beautifully crafted weapons, and all the money he'd had in his pockets had come with him into this world and it was an amazing thing- Silverfang had done quite a good job! But as he walked along towards the city he'd had set in his mind since the beginning of his journey- he was haunted by the book he carried with him. Although he could see the pages no one else could, and he had not written these stories even if he had lived them- he didn't know how to tell them as they were meant to be told. And as a storyteller it hurt him to see the pages torn apart by his absence- the world he loved torn to shreds by his absence- the story incomplete and more or less a pile of jumbled words that made no sense without a main character- without him.

Eventually he found it- a tall weather beaten stone house, two-stories with a high cobblestone fence that wrapped around the backyard.

And just like the last time he had been here- he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally Irontooth left, looking considerably older- more worn down and troubled than the Voice in the book had last sounded- Irontooth was not a very old man, and yet he looked as if he could have been in the grave the next morning. Years of work stolen away from him and he was already more worn down than Skystone had ever been. When the storyteller was out of sight- Skystone crossed the street and knocked on the door and waited.

The look on Silverfang's face made him smile, the complete surprise on his face as the hero of his brother's stories stood in front of him with the old worn book in his hands.

"I have something that belongs to your brother- a man whom I don't know the name of was about to throw it into a river and I couldn't bear the thought of such a wonderful story going to waste. Somehow I managed to get it away from him by convincing the poor idiot that someone could actually trap a person inside a book! Absurd I know...or at least that's what I would have said if it hadn't happened to me!" Skystone said with a grin and without so much as a greeting to ease things along.

"H-how? How did you get out?" Silverfang asked, eyes wide in astonishment.

"I'm not sure- some woman came and dragged me to a portal and shoved me out into the rain, I got the book back and came to return it to its rightful owner- and to ask a favor in return." Skystone replied.

The sorcerer let him in without another word and invited the young storyteller into the living room of his home- questioning him about this and that, going on and on about how amazing everything that Skystone described was.

"Can you put me back in it?"

"Why would you want to go back?"

"Just look at it! It's ruined without me!" Skystone protested, and when the sorcerer opened the book he saw that Skystone was telling him the truth. "I need to make what I did right- or at least what I was going to do."

"I can't risk your life now that you've done such a kindness!" Silverfang argued.

"You owe me- all I want is to go back into that book and pay my debt to Irontooth- just leave me with a way out and a knowledge of it, incase anything like this ever happens again!" Skystone argued.

"I couldn't!" Silverfang protested.

"I saw your brother when he left this morning- losing this book is eating away at him, if the book is not returned as it was, then he will only get worse!" Skystone said angrily, "And I will not be the cause of his death- will you?"

"Of course not!"

"Then put me back in the book!"

"...Alright- but like you said I'll leave you with a way out, I fear that if the scoundrel that stole the book and attempted to destroy it would have succeeded you would have been killed as well." He sighed, giving up- he'd lost enough arguments with a storyteller before to know that there was no way he would win now.

"And Irontooth will know nothing?" Skystone asked.

"Of course."

And so it was that Skystone returned to the realm hidden within the pages of Irontooth's book- who knows if he still lies within those pages somewhere or if the book has been destroyed by now...maybe he is growing bored of sitting on the shelf of some library and will one day step out of the book to roam the real world again. After all a fictional character never ages except within the pages of the story that they are a part of, and he would've outlived Irontooth even if he had never been trapped within the pages of that old leather bound book in the first place. Maybe he has gone back to what he loves to do the most- telling stories. Maybe you will meet him one of these days when you're out traveling along these well-worn roads. So keep an eye out my friends for a storyteller by the name of Skystone.