[center][h3][i]--- Near the northern edge of the settlement ---[/i][/h3][/center]

[@BunniesOfDoom][@Xaltwind]

Brom blinked with a look of mild confusion as he processed what his fellow dwarf just said. Tell the elf where they were? He'd have just as much luck telling her where they were if he grabbed one of his kitchen knives and threw it at a random point of the map; he was just as lost as the elf though perhaps a bit cleaner and less stress lines around the face. Then again, his fellow dwarf did not seem exactly to have much going on in her head. [color=0072bc][i]She's a few potatoes short of a stew.[/i][/color] He thought to himself before his attention turned back to the elf. 

Clothes made of fine material, articulate, and stood straighter than a ruler against a wall. Definitely the noble type or at the very least noble adjacent, the kind of person who he would help make meals for when he worked as a personal chef for a noble in the kingdom's capital. His eyes glanced down upon her compass. What the hell did she do to it? Stomp on it repeatedly? However, out of respect he stood there in silence as he listened to her entire harrowing tale. 

[color=0072bc][i]What an unfortunate woman,[/i][/color] was all Brom could think of looking at the elf. It was not just because of her story. He was not sure if the elf was aware of this, but she was terrible at hiding her emotions; he had a front row seat to a one-man pantomime of this woman's inner turmoil. Ignoring that, her story confirmed one thing: he was not the only one being drawn in to this town. Did that mean that there were others like them coming from the other corners of the world here?

[color=0072bc]"Well, no use in sulking. How about we go see if there are other people? If you're lucky, there's someone that can help you get back home or at the very least, find a well so you can wash your face. Oh, the name's Brom by the way!"[/color] He held a rather beefy hand out towards the elf. It was covered in a litany of scars and burns marks, and along his index finger was a raised callus. His handshake, if she accepted it, would certainly have been a firm one though he would've taken care of not squashing her hand like an overripened tomato.