[X] Decline. You will owe no debts, real or imagined, nor can you say for certain that his concept of hospitality is the same as your own. You would rather not be locked into some kind of magical contract or a vow you cannot break.
Hospitality, you know what the word, the concept, means to you. You know well the rules, the limitations, of magical contracts, of oaths and vows both unbreakable and not.
Yet, you do not truly know this Bloodraven, this 'Last Greenseer'. You do not understand his magic, neither its intricacies, nor its limits. Your usual modus operandi in such unfavorable situations likely wouldn't work, not in this place of power not your own.
As such, you've really only one option left. "No." You blame Nurmengard as you sigh and amend that with some actual courtesy. "I thank you for the consideration, though."
His reaction is as underwhelming as ever, as if you've just told him that you like a bit of sauerkraut with your breakfast. "I understand, though if you should ever find yourself in dire straights, know that the offer stands for as long as the Isle still stands," there's a slight tinge of amusement in his tone as he adds, "Yes, I'm well aware of how cryptic that may sound, but to be frank, your arrival to Westeros has come at a most inopportune time, on the eve of events lost in prophecy and more legend than not.
Hah, cryptic's quite the understatement, though it's about on par with what you'd expect from a seer, green or not. "Westeros?" You'd ask about these 'events', but really, you doubt he'd tell you anything of true import.
"A landmass cut in twain by the Wall, that which guards the realms of men, the Seven Kingdoms, from what lies beyond. Which are themselves separated from Essos by the Narrow Sea."
You feel vaguely like you're being recited to an excerpt from some history book, which likely means you're not getting the in-depth version, whatever it may be. Seriously, though. Westeros? Essos? You wonder if there's a Sotheros and perhaps a Norros to complete a sort of quasi-compass.
On that note. "So, what would that make this Isle? Unless I'm incorrectly assuming that it's not all that common for faces to be carved onto trees?" For all you know, it might actually be some manner of rite.
"The Isle of Faces, in the Riverlands. It is a sacred place, for Westeros, for the First Men, for the followers of the Old Gods."
The Old Gods? Wait. Is he truly implying what you think he is? "And are you one of these so called Old Gods?" You tone may be a tad dismissive.
Here his words turn bitter, "Of a sort."
As you move to speak, the illusion around you shifts somewhat, as if thinning. You get the strange feeling of standing in the midst of a thunderous storm or in the eye of a hurricane, when you are suddenly aware of hundreds, no, thousands of presences, though they feel like... remnants? Did you stumble into some kind of Ghost collective? Or worse, Horcruxes? Well, you suppose that line of reasoning is rather silly as this is neither your world, nor the magic you know. Either way, as the moment passes as quickly as it came, you believe you've overstayed your welcome.
You're interrupted yet again. "Before you go, I have a question for you," he continues as if he's asking for the time of day, "What are the Deathly Hallows?"
A few seconds go by as you parse his casual tone with that of the severity of his question. It's your words that are bitter this time, "More than a name, then?" It seems he doesn't know all that much seeing as he's asking you, though you suppose he could be mocking you.
He's no doubt noticed your pensive mood. "You know, I never truly touched upon your memories, what I saw was more of an idea of who you are. These Deathly Hallows are a part of that, among other qualities, some of which are entirely foreign to me."
Is he lying, or is that the truth? Does it even matter?
"So, if you would indulge me?"
What to say?
[] The Truth. A different world, a different life. What are the Hallows to you here, aside from nostalgic memories of false glory and fantasies of power?
[] A Half Truth. Tell him of the Tale of Three Brothers, he did ask you to indulge him after all, did he not? Besides, it wouldn't truly be a lie. (DC 5)
[] A Lie. If the Hallows are indeed a part of 'who you are' then you will endeavor to spin a most convincing story, a most tantalizing tale, but a lie, nonetheless. (DC 15)
[] Nothing. You owe him no answers, no justifications, no real response. Simply go, for you've spent far too much time in this place as it is.