Listen to a scout's tall tale.

You notice one of the returning scouts has joined a small group of her sisters for an ale, and is regaling them all with a story of an unlikely occurrence.

"Bullshit!" One of the listening warriors cries out.

"Hogcock, Sritti, hogcock!" Shouts another.

"It's no word of a lie!" The scout says defensively, before taking another long slurp from her flagon. The residual snow from the harsh conditions outside not yet melted from her furs, the young woman brushes her short, messy brown hair from her eyes. She's comely, in a mildly dopey sort of way, pale-skinned with freckles, a natural gap between her two front teeth.

"I know little of the customs and creatures of this land." Solla interjects, arms folded. "but it is curious these things only seem to happen to you when you're alone, Sritti."

"W-what's happening?" You ask, hobbling closer to the fire the women are clustered around.

"Who's the fancy cripple?" Sritti smirks.

"This is Edward. Of Itheria." Solla intones. The scout stares on blankly. "King. Of Itheria."

Sritti's eyes widen as if she's just sat down on the blade of a war axe.

"Oh fuck!" the scout exclaims. "Please forgive me, your Excellency, I had no idea-"

"It's alright, Scout." you respond, assuaging her panic with a wave of your hand. "Just tell me your story."

Sritti looks down at her boots for a few moments, considering her tale, before launching into it.

"Junaba had a group of us out up north, looking for a small band of brigands led by a vicious fucker by the name of Kleg."

"Him, I'm familiar with." You remark, drawing a quick whoop of laughter and appreciation from the warrior women around you.

"Well, we had no luck finding him up there, for uh, obvious reasons. After a proper decent search and the like, the beastgirl gives us the order to make for home, back here." Sritti continues.

"Anyway, I hang back a bit to take a shit, and as I'm squatting there, alone, what do I hear?"

"What little brains you've got left getting farted out?" One of the rowdier women heckles. The woman beside her laughs, clinking her tankard to the other woman's.

"Fuck off!" Sritti exclaims. "Nae, it was singing! Coming from high up in the mountains! Only it wasn't normal singing, it was all..." The brunette gestures vaguely with her hand as she struggles to find the word.

"Ethereal?" You hazard a guess.

"Aye, could be, could be." Sritti nods. "What's ethereal mean, again?"

"Otherworldly, magical." You respond.

"Oh then in that case, it was definitely etheral! A woman's voice, all high and haunting."

"So you heard a woman singing, outside." Solla asks, unimpressed.

"No, you don't understand, chief." Sritti continues. "Those mountains are sacred to Beathans. It's said the Lady of the Mountain lives up in a cave on those mountains."

"I thought she was a spirit?" Solla responds.

"She is, but she takes on an earthly form, to encourage the rocks and minerals and the like. If I heard her singing, it means I'm chosen. Special."

"She wouldn't choose you to muck out her stables, Sritti." One of the warriors remarks, before she and her comrades move along.

You're not sure what to make of the scout's tale. It has all the usual hallmarks of a braggart's boast, and yet... despite your unfamiliarity with Beathan culture, you feel as though there's a ring of truth to it.