“And so? This so called tale of yours, let us hear it. We shall be the judge of its contents.”

“Aye. I shall dally not, for it is engendered within the flows of destiny; hear it, you shall! Lest my tongue be withheld for lack of sweet vinegar to quench my thirst.” The friendly storyteller asked.

“Hrm! You are awfully proud for one rescued from such a predicament. If I remembered correctly, it were you who begged us so fervently to escort you through this stretch of wilderness. You sang promises of entertainment and repayment for our services and yet you have not but given us empty bowls and wineskins.”

“One must not rush the hands or in this case mouth of the teller. I have spent many a days under the underbrush of this forsaken stretch of land and my frail body isn’t as resilient as it used to be. I beg for your forgiveness if you’ve mistaken my actions as deceit and trickery. Let us be this: if I may partake in one more sip of wine, then I will begin my story.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The rough bearded man gave the smiling storyteller one last discerning glare and relented; he handed over what was left of his wineskin and plotted down beside the man. “Let us hear it.” The rest of the group also closed in around the storyteller as if understanding that a fabled legend was beginning to spin its tale of adventure, treachery, betrayal, and glory upon the listeners.

“Gather ‘round. Gather ‘round, for an epic is about to unveil itself to the ears of those that I deem unworthy. Do not be ashamed for it is not you that are unworthy, but simply because no one is worthy to hear such a tale…” After appeasing the crowd and drawing in their attention, the refined storyteller began to eloquently spin the tale of Nir of Elvenfall. “You’ve heard the many iterations of Gaul the Dragon Slayer or maybe even the founder of the Ancient Alliance, but how many have heard of Nir of Elvenfall? Well, clean your ears and listen carefully…”