Curiouser and Curiouser

"Welcome to the Taproom!" The Bartender said from behind the bar, polishing a glass. Of course; the glasses never needed to be polished, nor did they even technically exist until they were needed; he simply liked to present himself as unassuming as possible when greeting a new customer.

The interior itself would meet the expectations of Hadrian quite well, too wel in fact. The room, the layout, even the size would fit his expectations of what he would want the bar to be like; the room was entirely empty except for him and The Bartender; thus the layout would shift to his desires.

"Have a seat, settle in. Are you familiar with the services offered and accepted here, or is it your first time with us?" The Bartender asked as the barstool opposite the countertop from him scooted back, seemingly of its own accord. "Due to a recent change in management, my records of previous clientele seem to no longer exist. And though you look young, one can never assume."

His wry smile and tired eyes studied the person in front of him. Looked like an everyday teenager or young adult right until the wings came into view. "Ah, forgive me. My manners. Allow me to introduce myself; I'm The Bartender."

Oh no... Here we go again He thought to himself, sighing ever so slightly. "You see, that is my name. I am The Bartender; my name is my role. Technically I'm The Taproom, but... It's difficult to go by that name while on the premises. I'm what has been known as a Genius Locii. No, it's not a brag, I promise you, but rather a description. This entire structure is me, and I am it. We are linked. I guess you could say I'm the soul of the place."

He chuckled, placing the polished glass on the bar and withdrawing a small, grapefruit sized bag. Upending it, he spilled a small amount of pristine, white sand onto the bar between himself and Hadrian. As he did so, it began to animate, forming a very generic humanoid shape, then fluctuating to an almost exact replica of the Taproom's exterior. "You see, I was created as the structure was built, and then bound to it via a collection of magicks now lost to everyone." He said, as the sand crumbled back onto the bar, formless once again. "This was due to the fact that I was made to collect and store endless amounts of knowledge. All knowledge, in fact. Now, obviously, that's a vague concept, is it not?"

The sand began to crawl up the side and into the glass that had been placed there previously. "Knowledge comes in many forms. Curios, books, scrolls, passages, stories passed down generation to generation. I do believe I even have a repository of bottled emotions somewhere. But as you well know, as the world continues to grow, age, start, stop, and reset, knowledge is ever created. So I must continue to collect."

Making eye contact with Hadrian, he produced a single, ancient key from somewhere in his jacket. The material of the key seemed unremarkable, probably bronze or led. What was interesting is that the teeth of the key rapidly shifted size and shape. "What I have collected, or what's been brought to me, is stored in the archives. Thus, I ask again, what brings you to me, beyond curiosity; A drink, a dive, or some work? Many come here to seek what's stored below, thought I warn you it can be quite hazardous to venture alone, especially without my cooperation. Others come to enjoy a bar, I'll admit I'm rather proud of my gin fizzes. Others still come to seek work; right now I've seem to have developed a bit of a rat problem in the subcellar before the Archives... Wait..." His eyes seemingly unfocused for a few seconds, before he blinked, tilted his head, and nodded at Hadrian. "What would you say, Hadrian, is 34 rats of various sizes, none larger than one feet, seven inches long be considered a problem? Or has it reached a minor infestation?"

The Bartender was clearly beginning to get lost in his thoughts, the sand emerging out of the glass only to start forming a fantastic series of spirals on the bar.

"The rats never seem to effect the food or drink... And honestly I believe their presence is tied to the structure itself," The Bartender said, chuckling. "Used to be that I'd have a group of wanna be adventurers marching in here searching for work. Always had rats down there about then. Figure it's just part of the business. Few gold coins for a few dead rats. Works out well in the end."

His eyes widened ever so slightly as Hadrian materialized the sword. "Ah, magic." He sighed, almost unconsciously. He kept forgetting that in this time and place magic was so common; anyone who was skilled in it simply used it; he was used to it being restricted only to those of a higher social status. "Beautiful sword. May I? Before we set off. I unfortunately cannot directly harm anything that's been officially contained or stored within the Taproom, but I can serve as a guide to those I deem suitable..."

He held out his hands to accept the sword if Hadrian chose to hand it to him, his mind already kicking back into his focused, studious gears. Already he was theorizing the mechanics behind this particular feat of summoning. "Is the sword bound to you by any magical means? Is it beholden only to you? Is part of your essence tied to or contained within it? Does it have any particular magical properties normally invisible to the naked eye?"