“The many eyed god sees all…”
As the weathered door creaks open to reveal the dimly lit contents of the cottage, the familair odor of mothballs and stale goulash wafts from within. A silver haired old man, stooped upon his cane meets your gaze with a friendly but surprised smile.
“A traveler? In these troubled times? By the Seven, I never thought I’d see the day!" The old man seems genuinely pleased. “I had heard, long ago, it was quite normal to meet merchants and bards upon the road. Now it is but refugees seeking salvation, or bandits hounding for gold… You look like neither. Sit, be welcome at my hearth and home. Fear not for plague or madness, the Seven have been kind to us…” The old man stands aside and gestures for you to enter. “Perhaps,” he says, his voice clearly hopeful, “you have a story to share with an old man, or an ear for one?”