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I thought I'd sleep under a proper roof for once, but look, look at those prints on the floor! If I'd slept in the woods and saved my coin, at least I wouldn't be stuck in here with murdering animals. T'isn't right. T'isn't right! At least in the wilds, the beasties don't use lies and treachery to eat their fill. They don't kill peaceful folks as give them a warm place to sleep an' a meal. The beasts in here with us are wrong 'uns, going against nature. I bet they weren't even hungry when they killed those two peaceful critters who welcomed us all here.
Out where I live an' sometimes wander, I don't hear many rumours. But those I do hear, ah, the tallest tales come from those who wander too. I've seen many a thing that folks like you wouldn't believe. A hill that walks! A stag with ten sets of antlers! A boiling stream in the dead of winter! You think I'm lying, you do, but those are all the truth. An' I've heard tales from others. Some of those who travel far into the North tell tales of bear creatures that shift their form...maybe like the cruel beat who in all seeming is here locked in with us all.
What I'd like to know is, can those who are said to be blessed with powers of perception beyond the ken of normal folk see such things as hairy bears and any who might cavort with 'em? I'm going to ask! I'm going to ask THIS MUG OF ALE, THIS MUG OF ALE RIGHT HERE. MUG OF ALE, WHAT SAY YOU?
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