What is Bjorn's (the innkeeper) backstory? How did he end up running Snorf's Tavern?"# weekly challenge anachron rljzg.wam
A small group gathers around the bulletin board reading about a series of challenges. From far and wide, every bard in the land seems to have turned out to spin a story or tell their tales.
The crowd parts for an older gentleman known as Anachron a wizard if ever there were, equal parts whimsical and volatile. “I see you are all here to tell tall tales of my good friend Bjorn, but rest assured none will beat the true story…the story I’ll tell here after you bring back a pitcher of his finest to wet my whistle.”
Anachron takes a long swig from the pitcher, clears his throat and smiles at you noticing that the pitcher slowly refills itself
“Whether you know him as Master of Malts, the Keeper of the Whispering Flame, or Bjorn the Innkeeper, it is hard to imagine our realm without his hospitality. While he appears human, many would rightfully assume that his ancestry includes at least one other magical creature, though few would dare speculate to his face. For one thing, he has lived in the realm for decades presiding over weddings and funerals, holidays and festivals with little more than a whisp of grey in his hair to show. His hands the size of frying pans and capable of holding two large beer crafts per finger have also proven useful in ushering more unruly travelers back to the street, or helping those who have indulged a bit too much back to their room. But enough about his physical appearance, the question posed is about his past, which is as fine of place as any to start.
It all began when I was a young lad, yes I too was once young, and learning the ways of wizardry. My good friend and at the time mentor Bjorn was older and more experienced and taught me everything about potions and brews. He was an expert and a true artist whipping up everything from love potions to drinks that would keep us intoxicated through the night but wear off suddenly when the bell rang for our morning lessons. We were all of age of course…though other rules we didn’t always follow. It was just one such mischievous night when Bjorn and I and a small group made out to the edge of the realm to see if we could snag a mystical root from a witch whose name has been lost to time. We had just “perfected” our teleporting and believed ourselves invincible.. that was until we got caught by a Telespider. It’s web spread out around her hut caught us all quite effectively and to this day we don’t know if she built her hut there because of the spider or stationed the spider there as a guard. A telespider is a deadly creature that spins a web part way between one reality and the next, catching creatures mid teleport to feast upon. Either way that evening proved devastating and deadly, for no sooner we’re we caught in the web, some where between one reality and another, than the spider pounced on her new prey. The spider made swift work of one of the younger apprentices before the poor boy could even let out a yelp. I was able to let loose a fire spell but it was ineffective against the hard shell.
Anachron pauses perhaps for dramatic effect, perhaps due to the emotions that the night brought up in him
It was then that Bjorn came to our aid by spinning his enormous staff-sized maple wand in circles canting a portal spell for us to escape through. I was the last one through before he tried to crawl out but not before the spider was able to sink its venomous teeth into Bjorn’s thigh. While not specifically deadly, the venom of a Telespider does have a nasty and quite permanent effect of preventing one from being able to teleport. While he escaped with his life he would never be able to teleport again. With the prospect of epic adventures gone, Bjorn faded from the wizard school. He planted his massive wand in the bar you see over there so that just the tip protrudes being mistaken for a common bar tap by those less knowledgeable. He still puts his skills to good use whipping up some of the most amazing brews in the land, and his hospitality and profession has brought many stories and adventures to his doorstep. My only hope is that he can live vicariously through the adventures in his tavern.
While I may have worked my way up through the wizardry ranks, I have never stopped seeking a cure for the spider poison. You see, for those who don’t know so much about magic, the venom of the Telespider is a natural magic and needs a natural cure. The balance of the world dictates that a cure is likely somewhere but must be extraordinarily rare. Try though I may, no amount of unnatural magic nor sorcery has freed him from his teather.
So, raise your glass to Bjorn, and fill your mugs with his ale and let the stories flow through this tavern for centuries more! And I offer gold to anyone who brings me a cure for my friend.
The crowd erupts in a combination of cheering and jeering, some quite convinced the story is the true backstory while others convinced they could do better. The night presses onward, the stories flowing like the ale. No one quite noticed when Anachron faded fro the scene, but then again, that’s how he does things.
