From the hip of a large, broad-shouldered man hung a faded, threadbare leather satchel. Once in good make, time has seen its lustre dull, but even in its ragged, old age, it holds an important task. Within this bag sit memories. Small rocks, each with a moniker. Keepsakes which have been crafted by the bear of a man, small, little tokens of stories and adventures, some bold and brave, others harrowing and hurtful. Likely, if you were to ask the man, he'd show them, roll them in his palm and recount each tale, all but one, as that rock was missing... These are those tales.
