Ezlan was only all to willing to trade stories for accommodation. Eager for the opportunity, he would do it without trade. He even attempted to subtly weave in morals of trust, and while reading his audience, tug on strings of sympathy and have them thinking of the Tiefling they left out in the cold horrible weather. He wouldn’t push the agenda too far though, enjoying the comforts of a solid roof and warm fire, but he tried.


The next morning he was woken up from his drunken slumber and chased out of the house having overstayed his welcome. Unable to recall the actions that caused such treatment, he was given a rough start to the day, unable to barter for breakfast or supplies. Out on the wet road, his head ached heavily and empty belly rumbled loudly as the path ahead continued to be cruel to him. 
His frustration only further leading to itself. The simple comforts of last nights accommodation and company now long gone. 
His usual upbeat carefree mood was now soured and only worsened further by his absence of any alcohol.

He talked very little during that leg of the journey, only mumbling to himself curses and complaints. At one point as the mud tried to steal one of his shoe’s, he swore loudly and appeared just about ready to punch someone. Outside of that he was mostly complacent. Mostly. Keeping to himself.