"When my eyes first came upon it, i thought it was a castle in the clouds. . . i did. But it was this heavy mist in the canyon that made it seem that way, and yet I still find it hard to believe what i finally came to see. "
In the shadows of the smokey little bar, where few travelors might stop on the way to places with names known to many, the voice of an old man creaked across the room, his feeble shaking hands gesturing as he spoke. Two bar maids sat by his side, listening with deep intent. His old milky eyes would momentarily glance to their bosoms, pressed up for display in their peasant blouses. This seemed to invigorate his mood as he drank after each lingering glance.
"At the bottom of that massive canyon, was a lake. Oh, but not like any lake you have ever seen. Oh, no. Lakes of water full of fish and such is not what one finds in the negative plane. This was a swirling mass of yellow and gray, as if there were two forces endlessly struggling, neither ever winning, nor failing the fight."
His eyes glanced again, and a grin came to his wrinkled face.
"But the amazing thing was not the lake. For what i saw there still just seems impossible to me. There was a vine, far greater than the most stout oak you can imagine, twisting and gnarling up as it had grown. It had bark much like a tree, but this was no tree, milady. The higher up it was, i could see it had spread wider and wider, its tentacles woven in chaos, strands dangling like moss from a branch, roots dripping down, and the higher i could see, the more massive the tangled vine had become. . . until . . . it seemed to form the very foundation . . . of the castle i had seen."
This time he leaned close to one of the barmaids, almost putting his pointed nose into cleavage, but she, having great experience at this, leaned back just far enough to avoid contact.
"When I looked at vine as it had grown out of this lake, it just made no sense that an entire castle, with stone walls and spires would balance up there, held by no more than this vine trunk. Why a single breeze should have toppled it all over long ago. But there it was. . . And there is where we were headed."
He nodded to each of the ladies.
"Dark business it was. The chronomancer had used me to gain access to the one that owned that castle . . oh yes. . . i was that important in those days."
A look of sadness came over his face, the dry skin and wrinkles seemed to worsen for a moment.
After a moment of seeming lost in himself, the old man wiped his face with a quivering hand and blinked his eyes a few times. After taking a deep breath, he continued.
"How are we going to get up there? Climb this wicked vine?, i asked, and the chronomancer simply laughed, and waved up a crackly portal effortlessly. I peered into it, and i could see the other side."
With that he stopped.
"What was on the other side?", a shapely barmaid asked.
A sly grin came over his face, showing what few teeth he had left.
"You'll have to pour me another one of those drinks.", he responded.
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Subject: an old man stumbles up to the Elven camp 