Role

Chapter 5

It was quiet in the tavern, much of the talk was in hushed tones about the
ominous portents in the skies and the feeling of unease amongst the
populace. The bartender was preparing to close for the night, actually,
when a strong breeze pushed open the doors of the establishment, bringing
with it a battered, blood-stained dwarf. He was a slightly comical sight
with a shining lance in one hand and the other stroking his massive,
matted-down beard. As he pulled up to the bar, several of the remaining
patrons snickered under their breath at the disheveled sight of such a
dwarf, before filing out themselves.

"What can I get you fair traveller, for we close shortly", asked the
barkeep, taking careful notice of several body wounds on the dwarf
that leaked constantly onto his clothing and battered armor.

"Ale, en lot's o' 't. If'n yer please," said the dwarf, throwing down
a sack of what looked like golden coins with some silver. As this would
represent a full weeks revenue, the barkeep hustled to fill a large mug
of his best ale, placing it in front of the dwarf with a wide smile.

"Anything to eat for the fine sir tonight?"

"Nar, ah be fine...'ad me a slab o' beef night before last, ah'll be
alright. Just keep tha' ale in me mug and lissen ter me tale, if'n yer
would?"

"But of course. If you don't mind, I'll see to cleaning up the place while
you no doubt regail me of tales of valor and battling against terrible and
wonderous creatures."

The dwarf snorted at this last bit, fixing the barkeep with a cock-eyed
stare, whether from the effects of the drink or a bit of madness, it was
unclear.

"Where do ah begin..."