Stories are just words without meaning.

[Skoll]

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Hope you don't mind if I jump on in =P It sounds like they come from similar places. Shifted again, with all of his effects at his waiste, Skoll approached the scent of the pack's newest member. Eight feet tall and scarred from head to toe, solemn in appearance, he didn't look one to enjoy stories. The truth, was, though, that he lived and breathed them. They were...not more precious to him than his fighting career per se, which gave him purpose and discipline and usefulness...but it was without a doubt a healthy portion of his soul, and something that he knew he would never have come this far without. Following stories was what had brougt him here, running after tales of his lost ancestor, what had taken him away from his original home, which--though he didn't know this--was similar to where this wolf had come from. "Hello, Lubomir," he said calmly. He couldn't read the signs that the other wolf had left, he still wasn't very good at reading, though he hoped to learn soon, now that he knew he was in a pack with at least one wolf that he knew could do so. He did remember that Lubomir had claimed himself a bard, which meant that he would have stories to share. Skoll had many stories as well, a life time of accrued tales, and he remembered most of them perfectly. "I hear you tell stories?" ~The lyrics are from the best song ever written.

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