Das Potter
I gently stop my wagon and hail the gate guard:
'Glorious Morning to you! What sort of entry procedure do you have for me valiant guard?'
The guard blinks his eyes at me and stands a bit straighter, a display of amazement and awe that is common for those basking in my presence for the first time. He responds with alertness and professionalism:
'What is your reason for entering?'
I see the deductive gleam in his eye and give him time to gather his thoughts before I answer. It is quickly proven to be the right thing to do as he decides to say more:
'And why is your wagon so overloaded? That can't possibly be safe.'
I ponder but a moment before giving my reply:
'The wagon and it's contents are completely safe and without problem! The reason for the wagons load is efficiency and discretion. I could of course hire help and more carts, but a lone traveler projects less wealth and attention then a small convoy.'
He stunned and surprised by such excellent reasoning. I then answer his initial inquiry:
'My reason for entry is residency and new commercial enterprise.'
His reaction is now that of hope. Clearly overjoyed that one such as myself will be one of his townsmen. He proceeds to get three more guards, showing true professional diligence, before looking though my wagon and my papers. There is obviously nothing out of order, and I am let in to my new home!
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Frode (guard)
In the early morning I stand by the town gate, waiting for the guard shift to happen. The gate has just been opened, but it is rare for anyone to use it this early.
As I yawn and long for sleep i see a tarp covered tower crest the hill. I just stand there dumbfounded as the largest man I have ever seen is pulling a wagon loaded two stories tall. He walks down the road quicker then I would think safe, though no speed is safe with his load, coming to a surreal smooth stop before the gate.
'Glorious Morning to you! What sort of entry procedure do you have for me valiant guard?' his voice booms, but isn't very loud. Adding to the giant's weirdness and snapping me out of my daze.
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'What is your reason for entering?' I ask mechanically before my mind catches up.
'And why is your wagon so overloaded? That can't possible be safe!' I nearly shout.
His answer is near instant, confusingly verbose, and makes no sense. The smallest bump in the road should topple the wagon, and the height of the the tower is far more visible than any small convoy. I genuinely don't understand how he has arrived here looking unscathed. In the early morning at that...
The verbosity continues and I decide I am far to tired to handle this on my own. I get my colleague in the gate, catching the next shift too, before even trying to make sense of this new traveler.
We spend over an hour going through his papers and belongings, both being quite weird. His papers have several very important stamps proving legitimacy, but are issued based on his description. No name is given.
His belongings are mostly crates that his papers tell us not to open; very important stamps and all that. One question is however partially answered: The wagon is stable because the boxes have less weight than they should have, even if empty. The giant somehow has over a dozen enchanted crates.
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Das Potter
I believe I have made a slight error. It seems the guards had unnecessary difficulty in understanding me, primarily because of my extensive and varied vernacular. With a new life comes new ways, so I must endeavor to embrace the local culture to ultimately become one with this towns people. A mundane potter, no matter how exceptional, should use a fitting vernacular and have a certain bearing... So I shall begin by rephrasing this realization!
Therefore I say once again, in the local vernacular this time:
I need to fit in.
I shake my head at that foolish thought. That is going too far. I wish to become something more in a new way, not loose who I am. But perhaps I should try to change my speaking a bit regardless. The locals might appreciate it.