Torn was walking merrily through the woods, whistling on a tune he'd heard in a tavern. He didn't have a clue exactly where he was - he'd asked a farmer where the nearest inn was two days ago, and the farmed had made a gesture and said 'that-a-way'. Still, Torn, ever an optimist, skipped along the road between pines, birch, and gnarly oak, with nary a worry in the world.

The, suddenly, there was a sudden flapping of wings as birds took to the sky, and the distinct crunch of crammy snow as a dozen well-equipped bandits sprung their trap, leaving Torn encircled with no way out. The sun was low, casting long, brooding shadows over the scene, and of course shining right into Torn's precious blue eyes. A bandit stepped forth, clad in a mail hauberk, wolfskin, and wielding an axe and shield. "Give up your valuables now, and I might just let you leave here alive!" Torn, knowing his destiny was not to die here, frowned at the bandit indignantly. "Does it look like I have much with me? I only have the clothes on my back, and these weapons." The bandits exchanged looks. Weapons, they had aplenty, and on closer inspection they could see Torn was telling the truth. The bandit chief stroked his beard with his shield hand, eyes furrowed. "Hrm… Well, throw down your arms and come with us. We'll decide how to deal with you." Torn perked an eyebrow, curious. I wonder how this will pan out.

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1 Hour later:

"… Oh, and it gets better. His line was lodged so deep in the hydra's throat, he thought he'd tear out the intestines if only the beast didn't kill him first. So he reeled, and pulled, and reeled, and pulled… Until he yanked out a lake bass stuck in its throat, falling flat on his ass with a dead fish biting his cock, and the monster kissing him for the favour!" Torn threw his head back in laughter after completing his story, accompanied by his would-be captors. He'd barely spent ten minutes at camp before they'd given him mead and mutton, delighting in his tales and lies, laughing at every jest and cheering at every twist of an adventure. After the drunken raiders had laughed their fill (which took a while), their chieftan wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling.

"You know, Torn, you're all right. We haven't had this much fun in ages. We'd love to go on adventures like you and your… friends, but whenever we seek them out, something gets in our way." Torn listened to the old man with a grin. "Well, an adventurer is not all about strength. He must have charm, and wits, too. I'm actually on the hunt for a two-headed ogre right now. I heard the beast was hiding somewhere around here. His name is Blobberjack, and one head's a sorcerer while the other's a brute. Some lord or other issued a bounty on the thing, and I shall be the one to claim it!" Torn raised his cup to his 'friends', his handsome face shining like gold in the light of the fireplace. He belched, and stood up. "You heard it, world! TORN SHALL SLAY YOUR MONSTERS," he proclaimed, emptying his mug.

Another trek to the Northlands had been fruitless for Valkoinen once again.  He had taken to traveling around Canelux, looking for honest work - and it seemed that honest work was something it was impossible to find as of late.  Everyone seemed to be looking for mercenaries for hire to do their dirty work, or for assassins to take out those who stood in their way.  Since Valkoinen embodied none of those things, it proved difficult for him to be successful in his endeavor.  He was looking for protection work, or perhaps even courier work.  He needed something to line his pockets with coin, but it needed to be something that would not sully his reputation or sicken his mind.  He had never taken an innocent life, and he wasn’t about to start.

With a dulled sense of accomplishment (he’d at least made it to his destination), he began on another path, not quite sure where it was going to bring him to.  He walked for a while in the darkness, finding that he enjoyed the silence.  It brought peace to him, and it wasn’t something he came across all too often.  Moments later, however, the silence was broken by the echo of numerous voices cascading throughout the darkness.  Valkoinen paused to listen, but he could only make out the occasional word here and there.  It seemed to be one man telling a story to another man, which kept being met with uproarious laughter. 

“Might be worth looking into,” he said to himself, and headed through the trees in the direction of the camp.  His assumption was that the laughter came from a camp of Northmen in the woods, possibly a troop stationed for perimeter control.   He thought that perhaps he could be of some assistance to those men, so he decided to head towards them.  

After a few minutes, he emerged from the trees, at which point her realized just how much of a mistake that had been.  He had emerged just in time to hear one of the men exclaim loudly that he would slay all of the monsters, and drain his mug of what he assumed was either mead or ale.  He thought it better to make his appearance known, and cleared his throat.  “Excuse me, gentleman, I seem to have lost my course,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  He was unsure what was going to result from his stumbling into their camp, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

Torn had only just made his proclamation to the cheers of the highwaymen when a stranger appeared like out of thin air into the camp. Of course, everyone had been so eager to make merry that there was no lookout, but the party was nevertheless taken aback. Several, in their surprise, only stood up in confusion, while some grabbed their weapons, and a pair of very merry men stood up, stumbled, and fell with a grunt.

Torn looked upon the newcomer with curiosity. Much like himself, he travelled light. These guys are bandits, and that man doesn't seem to have the same form of wit and charm as I. Wouldn't want to spoil the evening by having him slaughtered. The self-aggrandizing thought quickly led Torn to smile broadly and laugh good-heartedly, somehow defusing the situation by putting the highwaymen at ease. "Behold, another traveller, chance met on the road. Oh, I can smell the hand of fate at work here." He walked nonchalantly over to the newcomer. As soon as his face could no longer be seen by the bandits, Torn mouthed the words 'play along' to the stray wanderer, before putting his arm around him with a smile.

"Well met, stranger. I am Torn Flashborne; conqueror of monsters, madmen… and maidens. Come, sit! We're exchanging stories and lies. Will you regale us, or be regaled? Either way, share in our merrymaking, for the stars tonight sing of glory and great things to come!"

Torn's greeting was, of course, a bit over-the-top, and he knew it the moment it was done. Nevertheless, the bandits were tipsy and in a good mood, Torn had made himself quite popular, and by comparing the newcomer to his own encounter with the raiders, a compelling portion (including the now more-than-a-little-tipsy chieftain) had already begun laughing and sheathing their weapons. A small amount looked to still be on guard, but all in all it didn't look so bad. Torn quietly whispered to the man who had the questionable pleasure of having Torn's arm around him.

"These guys are highwaymen. They're in a good mood, but try not to spoil it."

Torn then laughed aloud. "Ah! My manners! I gave you my name, stranger, without giving you time to share yours. What are you called, friend?"

He stood, rooted to the spot, as the man who had been regaling the other man ‘round the fire approached him.  He was smiling and laughing, which arose even more suspicion to Valkoinen.  The man reached to put an arm around him, but he caught the man’s mouth soundlessly forming the words ‘play along.’  He realized that he had no choice other than to trust the man, so he did just that - he played along.  

“Well met,  yourself!  I am Valkoinen Ilmari of Clan Ilmari, and I’ll be downright surprised if you’ve not heard of my lot!” Valkoinen attempted to match the tone the other man’s introduction had taken, hoping that the inebriated bandits would not catch on to their ruse.  When he was met with even a moment of silence, he continue on.  “You’ve not heard of me?  Mayhaps I’m thinking that our notoriety is further spread than is actual,” he said, immediately realizing how stupid he sounded.

With Torn’s arm about his shoulders, he puffed out his chest in a proud manner at the bandits that sat ‘round the fire.  Feeling completely ridiculous, he made every effort to go along with the coaching that the man named Torn had offered him, not really wanting to meet his end on this night.  “I shall choose to be regaled, if you’ll have it,” he said, his voice becoming boastful.  “The tales I have to share are so outlandish that they will hardly be believable!”  He hoped that his boastfulness would work to his advantage.

Whispering under his breath so that only Torn could hear him and not the other men around the camp who were clearly drunk, he addressed the man.  “How’m I doing?”

Torn laughed good-naturedly, along with a few of the bandits, as Valkoinen introduced himself in the same fashion as Torn. A good start, and even the suspicious highwaymen were now looking voer the newcomer - not much of a threat and not much of a target, they grunted and sheathed their weapons. Torn grinned broadly, relieved that the night wouldn't take a quick and nasty turn.

"I am afraid I have not heard of your clan, but I am sure I will in the next few hours. Someone get this man a drink! For I shall now tell the tale of Fansy the Bard!"

Torn seated Valkoinen by the fire, and winked at him, as if to say 'you're doing great'. He then took up an epic pose by the fire, holding his (empty) mug up high. As if by magic, the flames seemed to dance on his fair skin and golden hair, and his booming voice somehow brought the story to life.

"Once upon a time not so long ago, there was a great battle taking place between the muses and devils of Canelux, known as the battle of keys. Both sides fielded knights and men-at-arms aplenty, but the muses were losing ground, and soon would be overwhelmed by the chaotic notes of the devils. But one man stood up to the devils with a vengeance - Fansy the bard, a young man of sixteen, and no martial training. As the forces of chaos were about to overrun the bastions of harmony, he cried out 'Hold on, my fellows! I have a plan, but do I not return, think of me fondly!' and so, he lept the bastion, and ran to the hills."

The bandits were already completely enthralled, gazing at the storyteller, altogether starstruck. Torn, in turn, gestured wildly and dramatically with each sentence, even using his spear to mimic combat.

"His fellows believed he had tricked and deserted them, but Fansy had a plan. In the hills towards which he was running was a large encampment of migratory giants, the kind native to the north. What he did next was folly and madness, for these giants, while generally peaceful, are a terrible thing when wroth. He ran into their den, pulled out his lute, and played the most sour and displeasing tone one can imagine, like a strangled cat. The giants, outraged, charged at Fansy with intent to kill."

Torn's gaze was suddenly full of anger, portraying the hatred the giants must have felt towards the young hero. Suddenly his voice became more booming, as if he was standing in an amphitheatre, reciting an epic.

"But Fansy was not so easy to catch. Young, and with barely any weapons or armour, he was too quick to be caught by the giants. They all came after him, but not one of them could hit him, for his cunning and agility could not be matched by the lumbering creatures. Then, after a while, the giants came within earshot of the demons' song. Hearing a similar chaos to what Fansy had tormented them with, they flew into a frenzy, crashing straight into the demonic lines, dismantling their vanguard and smashing their general's bodyguard in a heartbeat. Not expecting to fight giants, the demons soon found themselves in disarray, allowing the muses to take up arms, regroup, and fight back. And so, enthralled by the gorgeous music of these angels of song, the giants formed a new van, and smashed the demons underfoot."

Torn grinned as he told the tale, but soon his demeanour turned somber. One could see a single perfect tear in his left eye as he finished the story.

"Alas, Fansy, tired from his long run and having dropped his weapons, was slain in the battle. His body was recovered, and in a procession worthy of a god, was brought to rest to the sound of eleven lamenting muses, and the prayer of every good thing under the sky."

Torn gave a sort of salute, a clenched fist over his heart, with a bowed head. Comically, several of the bandits (the biggest and burliest) had begun crying, including the chieftain. "Och, Torn, whad a beau-ti-ful shtory! Y-you should be a bard or… Shomethin'…" He bowed his head, sobbing and groaning. After a few seconds, one could hear a soft snore coming from the man. This spawned heavy laughter from the rest of the party. Torn, of course, laughed loudest of them all.

Valkoinen did his best to mask his unease as torn sat him near the fire, giving him a wink.  The wink itself acted as a sort of reassurance, though he was not entirely sure what to do at the current moment.  He bounced his glance around the group, taking in the state of most of the men there.  The majority of them seemed incredibly inebriated, which Valkoinen thought would work to his advantage.  He had to plans to attack or overthrow any of them -  he merely wanted to get out of the situation alive.  He chose to give himself the most relaxed face he could and listen intently to the story that Torn was about to tell.

He found it almost amusing how easily the bandits became enamoured with his story, letting themselves get completely lost in the tale.  He, however, kept his wits about him - one of the bandits sloppily shoved a mug of ale, or some sort of drink, into his hands, the liquid sloshing everywhere.  He rowdily thanked the man, attempting to put up a ruse of being drunk himself.  

He paid close attention to Torn’s story while still scanning the area with his peripheral vision, but it soon became apparent that none of the bandits was in a right enough state of mental affairs that they would be able to see through his act.  He kicked back where he sat, stretching his legs out in front of him, and began to truly enjoy the tale that the adventurer was spinning.

After the tale had ended, he could not help but to snort out a bit of laughter when the chief of the bandits conked out into a snore-filled slumber.  “My friend, you seem to have talked him straight to sleep,” he said, his voice much softer than the boastful guffaw he had uttered earlier in the day, but still enough to keep the bandits at bay.

“You must tell another!” he shouted, looking around to the men who sat near him and drinking deeply of the ale he had been offered - he felt that participating would be the best way to keep up the charade.  “Innit right men?  We need another tale!” he called, hoping that the other men would continue to be entertained by Torn’s tall tales - perhaps it would give him the opportunity to escape the situation.