The weary travelers all sat among the brushed dirt, unconsciously plopping down along the borders of a circle Dreyma herself created, just for such an occasion. Their armor, leather and iron, smelled awful as its scent wafted up her petite nostrils. She did not approve of them bringing such a smell into her midst. Still, they looked delightfully full of determined energy. She meant to work her way slowly into their circle, then–
“Have you heard, Fendin?”
“Of the tale,” the first speaker said with a sly grin.
Dreyma’s forward motion paused, like the moon choosing to stay full, if only for a moment more than usual.
“Oh come off it with your stories,” the second replied with a hint of true anger outlining his syllables. He took of his helmet, revealing thick, light brown hair. It looked as the sun would, if it had burnt itself a little. Dreyma adored it. “I’m damn tired, and I won’t have any of this!”
A third spoke up. His hair was short, black, and matted to his oddly small skull. Dreyma disapproved. “Oh, let Caldun have his story, Fen,” he said wearily. “Can’t be steppin’ out all the fun just ‘cuz you’re not havin’ any.”
The one called Caldun nodded towards the third. “Worry not, Reil. He has yet to tamp out my embers!” Turning back to Fendin, he lowered his voice. “Though, I should say, for I know this sweetens the deal for you…” the voice lowered further, rabbit beneath rock. Dreyma decided that perhaps the moon would wait an additional minute, just for the sake of politeness. It does not bode well for one who rudely interrupts a story at birth.
“This story…” Caldun looked to the left, then the right, and back into Fendin’s eyes. His own, grey as the iron upon his shoulders, seemed to double in weight. His gaze gripped all who were in range of it, shackling ears to attention, rears to nearest seat. Dreyma felt a small power in it. While it would have been easy enough to resist, she decided to see what this tale-telling rabbit had to offer. She sat.
“This story…is true.”