Scot stopped again and looked at Piper for a bit. He let out a long sigh. "I have my work cut out for me, I'm afraid," He said. He returned to his music, only this time slow and a bit jazzy.

"Stormwind lived in a village in the hills
Dotted with farm plots and little windmills.
Something stood out about him,
With silvery fur that was fine and thin.
He read an awful lot for his age,
Legends and myths of lands far beyond.
'Why bother?' Some asked,
'Those times are long gone'.

He had a bucket list of sorts:
Find these locations, write some reports.
One day, he decided, before they all worry,
He packed his things and left in a hurry."


(Scot began to pick up speed again.)

"Now, some places Stormwind just couldn't go to,
Such as Angel Island in the sky,
or deep in the ocean, mind you.
(Mostly because mammals can't fly...)
He mapped the ruins, evaluated the seasides,
Climbed up the mountains, and the valleys besides.

He encountered many dangers on the way,
Like the savage dingos that lived in that day.
However, our hero was quite clever,
Tricking his way around traps and whatever.
Now, I won't tell you these all, because if I had,
I'd be deader than the Angel Islandic Clans."

(Scot paused here to say this was a perfectly valid argument back when this story was first told about 200 years ago, though if you were to say it now you would get an odd look from pretty much everyone. "I tell the stories, not make them fit modern culture," he declared before continuing. Now the music returned to the slow jazzy tune.)

"Either way, it took him a loooong time to finish his task,
How long precisely? I don't know. Don't ask.
The point of this story is just to entertain,
Not necessarily for educational gain.
But what difference does that make to You?
None. I'm done. We're through."

Scot picked a few more notes before bowing. "Thank you folks, I'll be here all night,"

Piper was quiet for some time,
"I've heard of these before, but only whispers. You tell it quite well."

"Thank you kindly, missy," Soct said, tipping his hat. "That's one of my favorites to tell the first time around. Of course, I'm never sure how the audience will react to old expressions..." Scot looked at the floor for a moment as if remembering something. He grimaced. "You just can't please them all, I suppose,"

"Hmm,"
Piper said messing with the fibers of her gloves.

Soct looked at Piper and Rose. "So what about you?"

Rose quirked up,
"I know a story!"

Scot tunes his guitar with a smile on his face. "Lets hear it!" He said, gesturing to Rose.

Rose cleared her throat,
"A far far land,
by maiden's hand,
a little child grew,
he grew and grew,
but one fateful day,
that innocent child fell to evil,
a dark twisted evil,
known as hate...
his poor mother dear pleaded to the gods,
they did not answer her as she begged,
but as the years went by a flower grew,
the blossom bore a tender girl named Astran,
for many years this girl wandered,
o'er plain and o'er mount,
till finally she did reach,
the wicked boy's prison deep...
she set him free but on a sworn promise,
that if he'd ever return to these lands,
he would be welcomed not as a friend but foe.
The boy nodded and swore as he crawled from his cage...
he would never cause the world to suffer anymore.
This boy was never seen again,
Astran grew old in her time.
When at last the last of her people died,
with her final breath she created a new thing,
a race of creatures who were guided by hope,
hope so strong the boy couldnt resist,
he fluttered down repenting all his sins,
he was forgiven by these hopeful creatures,
the boy smiled and he turned to his aging friend,
'Dear Astran you have served them well, rest they are fine.'
With these words he carried her to the stars,
he set her down atop his 'bandoned throne.
There she remains there sleeping sound,
circling the planet she loved."
Rose sang in a low voice lulled by the story her mother used to tell her about her planet's moon Astran.

Scot closed his eyes, humming softly to himself. "A fine tale, with soothing echoes of the past and the tenderness of a bedtime story. Very fine, indeed," Soct opened his eyes and nodded at Rose. "Astran, or as the old Mobian astronomers called it, 'The Floral Star'. A much nicer story than the one of our..." he glanced out the window. "...cyborg moon,"

"Cyborg moon?"
Rose said in her far-off voice.