"I'm a bosmer or wood elf," the clarification is required for her because you can't just go calling an elf an elf but while she's seen one at the very least that's put her in mind of an altmer if not quite so golden, she hasn't seen a dunmer. "What city isn't? Left a civil war back home for whatever's going on here, d'you not believe in everyone being dragged up a mountain and made to sit at a table before you deal with the thing that's going to devour the world?"

Yes it's that simple, even someone who spent about a year ignoring her name being called from the mountains then another year getting to it still got it done in the end. Wasn't her war to be getting on with.

Brónach slows as she pats herself down carefully. "Got a knife I doubt I can take out in public without someone shitting themselves and a few trinkets I can't or I reckon I'll be accused of theft, maybe have someone try that on me too." (Some days the theft accusations are fair but there's nothing worth stealing down here.)