Mayjerronne, the only daughter of the innkeeper and his wife, was never a beauty queen. Her hair was mouse-brown and untamable, and she had a lazy eye and a large nose that gave her the look of a depressed hound-dog. So when her psychic gifts began to manifest as a teenager, she was overjoyed that the gods had finally granted her something to make her special.
Unfortunately, her visions always seemed to be a bit off. She predicted to the cooper that he was to come into a large sum of money, so he went to the gambling house. Ten hours later, he left richer than he began… by three coppers. She foresaw a mighty earthquake, and convinced her neighbors to secure their shops. The next day, an overloaded wagon cart collapsed and dropped its heavy cargo of building materials. This made a loud noise, but no more than that came about.
The townsfolk were amused by Mayjerronne’s predictions from then on, for while they always contained a grain of truth, the reality was invariably far less impressive than her visions led her to believe.
So, resigned to her limitations, she became more and more involved with the upkeep of the inn, and less so with her dreams of becoming a wise seer whose counsel would be sought across the land.
Now, innkeeping certainly isn’t the worst job in the world, and Mayjerronne was, despite everything else, a pretty decent cook. She learned, as all good shopkeepers do, what her regulars liked to eat and what hours they kept. She knew to start preparing beef stew with extra pepper at sundown, so that it would be ready for the miners who would inevitably show up and ask for it at dusk.
But one day, she had a hunch that she ought to order an extra chicken, and prepare it with a garlic sauce that she had never even made before. When the meal was complete, she tasted it and wondered what possessed her to do such a thing. Minutes later, a merchant passing through town entered the inn and asked for chicken prepared with heavy seasoning, for his fare had been unbearably bland of late. Nonplussed, Mayjerronne served the garlic dish to him. The merchant raved about it, and upon hearing the story of its creation, paid extra for the food and recommended the place to all his friends.
From then on, he spread the word in his travels that there existed a Psychic Inn where the innkeeper not only knew you were coming, but knew what you wanted to eat and would have it ready for you when you arrived. This may be somewhat of an exaggeration, but Mayjerronne did occasionally have more visions of this recipe or another, and more often than not, someone would come in and order it.
Mayjerronne is much older now, and still maybe not so easy on the eyes, but the entwining of her gifts has given her what she considers to be a satisfying life, and her contentment shows in her expression and mannerisms. So if you go to the Psychic Inn, Traveler, the innkeeper just might have a meal ready for you, and it could be exactly what you wanted. Regardless, Mayjerronne is a happy woman, and therefore, simply good company.