Some like spinning tales, others like weaving songs, yet many dared not head the call of adventure. So too didn't I some time ago, dreaming of mighty heroes striding afar, or knights whom in radiant plate dressed are. Of dragons souring through the heavens, past halls of giants in the clouds. Mighty hosts clashing and hither lands of beauty untold, you know the drill.  

After years of careful planning, only to be halted each time by family ties. "For the life of an alehouse owner is one of continuous work and I shall not pass on this establishment to none. I shall pass it on to you, as my father did to me and his father to his and so on all the way back to even before the worms came down from the mountains,ever since we won this inn from her former owner in a game of riddles." My father was fond of saying, when my dreams were addressed. 

So it has been for years and years, till a faithful night, I could deny the calling no longer. So I nicked a tempered four-legged companion from the local pens and set off. I dare not say in all honesty if his escape went smoothly, or if Svirrir the tempered was at first exited to change masters without warning. We did get out mostly unscathed though, save the few times Svirrir managed to toss me out of his saddle.

And so I crossed the many plains, the many hills and far-reaching forests to answer the inquiries regarding the tales I grew up with and perhaps, just perhaps return with a few of me own.

((Song: Ode to the Fallen. Composed by Adrian von Ziegler: https://www.youtube.com/user/AdrianvonZiegler))