From: hutch@agora.rdrop.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: story buyer Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Date: Tue, 6 Dec 1994 09:01:44 -0800 (PST) The story of the Story Buyer: Rowan was at his usual late-morning position behind the bar at the Dragon's Inn, doing inventory on the liquor, checking the stocks, and generally preparing for the evening to come. He was down behind the bar when the door opened and closed. He peered over the edge of the bar, into the eyes of a peculiar little man. "Can I help you?" The little man looked puzzled at the question, then brightened. "Why, yes, I suppose you can. Do you know Rowan LittleFair?" "Pretty well. I'm him." "Oh, good. I want to make a business proposition." Rowan raised an eyebrow at this. He stood up, and the little man swayed backwards, then looked around frantically until he found a chair. He clambered up to where he was at eye-level and pulled his briefcase onto his lap. "What kind of proposition?" Rowan looked the fellow over. He was probably half-dwarf or maybe half-holbytlan. He had a strange aroma to him though, not really what one would expect of anyone who had lived in Generica. So he was a recent arrival. Under the drab green travel coat, the fellow was wearing business garb, the kind of thing worn by travelling merchants. He was otherwise nondescript, with sort of darkish hair and sort of average colored eyes, but he had a ready enough smile. "Simply enough," the man said, "I buy stories. I want to set up at one of your tables here." "Oh? Look, mister ..." Rowan fished for a way to get rid of him. "A'arden. Meskirani Publishing." He handed a small parchment square to Rowan, that said "A'arden, Agent/Reporter, Meskirani Pub." "Mister A'arden. You want to take one of my tables, and pester my customers? "No, no, you have me wrong, sir. I will pay for the use of the table, and I will be wanting to rent a room, long term, for myself and my staff. You see, my publishing company sends agents to dozens of worlds, and we collect interesting stories. They don't need to be true, or heroic, or long or short even very well told." "And you pay me for these?" The innkeeper shook his head skeptically. "I pay you a fee for every story I, or my staff, hear. We also pay the persons who tell the story, in good local silver currency, and we'll buy them a beer or an ale or something. To get them in the talkative mood." "I see." Rowan pondered for a minute. Business was still good, but the crowds had been unusually quiet, and the usual gang of adventurers wasn't spending as much time at the Inn lately. He was beginning to get bored. Well. Maybe the guy would attract some new stories, keep the place going. He reached a hand across the bar and took the odd little man's hand in a firm grip, and shook it once. "Well then. This will be on a trial basis. Just for a week, just you, and not your staff, until we see how you do business. And don't you go bothering my customers. If they don't come to you..." "Of course," A'arden said. "That's understood. Wouldn't expect otherwise." He smiled wetly. "I would like to put up a sign on tbe bulletin board, though, and maybe at my table?" "Fine. You can use any of the fireplace tables, except during the meal rush hours. Food and a room are four silver a day." "Excellent prices. Here, then, is my first week's payment. Could I please have a below-ground room?" The little man opened the briefcase on his lap and pulled out a small pouch, counting out seven bars of silver, unstamped with any mark. Rowan weighed them on the scale at the end of the bar, the spell in the scale giving the weight in pure silver -- each bar was four standardweight. "Fine," he said. "Here's your key. You're in 123b, just down the stairs here. Will you be starting tonight?" "If you please." The man hopped down off his chair and went down the stairs. Rowan scratched his head, shrugged, and went back to work. Later, that afternoon, A'arden posted a sign on the bulletin board by the staircase: A'arden the Story Buyer --------------------------------------- I will pay silver for your stories. Find me at the fireplace tables here in the Inn, and tell me your tale, if it's your tale to give. Long, short, happy, sad, true, or boasting, it matters not. I don't seek bards or master storyweavers. The stories I buy will be made into books that are sold in worlds far from Nexus, but your identity will be protected if you wish. He found a small empty table at the south fireplace, and smiled at the Dark Figure in the Dark Corner. In front of him on the table he put a sign with his name: A'arden. I give silver for Stories. He signalled the waitress to bring him a pitcher of beer and two glasses, and waited. [ADMIN] A'arden is exactly what he seems -- a story buyer. He will listen to anyone's story, and he'll supply beer or wine or food, whatever they need to make them comfortable enough to tell their tale. His staff is made of people who look like him, so anyone who really wants to sell their tale can find someone to listen. His purpose in the Inn is to provide writers with someone to talk to, so new writers or people who aren't in threads at the time, can still have someone to tell their stories to. Don't worry about mis-writing him. He's just a small polite fellow who will listen to what you tell him, and ask the right questions, and he never offers advice, or judgement, or commentary, unless you ask him (and you have to write it yourself!) He doesn't care about the contents of the story you tell him, but it has to be your own story to tell -- you can't sell him someone else's tale.