"I'm surprised you don't have swarms of women and children at your side, or a place you could call your own instead of here." Ruby said. You knew her well enough that she intended that as a jab at his current state.

"Children would be unlikely, considering he's actually a mule himself." You said, looking at him.

"You are correct, sir Savant." Morris sighed. "A mule I am, though I do have a few wives still. Alas, that I would be a jackass."

He spoke a bit about his parents— his mother a mare and his father a jack. Of his childhood, of how he showed promise of becoming a heroic and legendary bard.

"I would be tempted to continue speaking of myself so greatly and with such length," He said "But it is clear that you and yours bear a thinly wearing patience."

"We just came back from the, uh, I forgot what that place was called. But it's where all the boring paperwork happens." Bertha said.

"The I.D.C.A? Ah, I wasn't aware. My condolences." Morris said with genuine sympathy.

He seemed to be pretty reasonable and sensible, if a little theatrical and self-deprecating at times. You noted that he was a good listener, and generally had a fondness for story telling and acting— something he shared with all other bards, according to his own words.

Yes, he was reasonable and sensible in most things. With one glaring exception:

"Hey, just out of curiosity," Mel said, "Do you not happen to have an instrument to play?"

Now that she mentioned it, you did just now realize that he didn't have anything here. You half expected him to cast a spell and to summon it, or use some sort of magical construct to create a temporary instrument, but he didn't do that.

No, instead, he started to sing.

"Hohoho... the world is still a-turning,

The people? Still feeling,

If they were not burning?

Then all the city is reeling. Hahaha..."

The small crowd that remained began to trickle away. Unlike with your entrance, it was far more calm and controlled.

"There he goes again..." Said one of the people here.

"Hope he doesn't decide to use his Tears this time." Another commented.

More and more people muttered about the scene as he went from strange songs to rants about the injustice of it all, how his instruments were all destroyed by outside forces, complaints about how weak his magic was, and so on, all jumbled together in a nearly incoherent mess. Only you and Mel were able to make sense of it.

"Anyway," You cleared your throat as you tried to bring things back before things digressed more than they already had, "What do you know about the lamia here?"

"Hmm? The who?" Morris paused and blinked, going back to his usual self as he thought about your question. "Ah, the 'snakes'. Call themselves the 'Snake Eyes'.

"They are a group that supposedly 'protect' this place from outside influence. Mere racketeering. They'd be a crime ring if they were bolder, methinks.