<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/qvQdg7X.jpeg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;"><strong>Falgrim Runeforged (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2538176)</strong></span><br/>Dwarven Artificer(Armorer) lvl 3<br/><strong>Hp:</strong>26/26<strong>AC:</strong>19<strong>Passive perception:</strong>13<br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spells</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>1st:</strong> 0/3 used</div></div><strong>Actions:</strong><br/><hr/><br/>"Slag it All!" came a surly sounding voice from the edges of the cavern, followed by a few more incensed words spat out in dwarven. Before long a fully armored dwarf came into the firelight. He wore strange looking armor, splint mail that had added plates, copper tubing and crystals embedded at key points on his armor. His helm completely enclosed his face with only an opening for his deep red beard to  hang free. As he approached the camp fire the helmet seemed to collapse back, sliding in on itself to let his face be seen. He stood and thought for a moment, surveying the two before him before glancing around the cave, and grumbling.<br/><br/>" I have a feelin' that I'm not in tha ruins anymore." His words gentle and calm now, a slight lilt in his speech. He spoke first to the old, for lack of a better description, elf.(He certainly never saw no heavy set elf) Settling down when the old elf was finished. Far be it from him to decline hospitality. He threw what appeared to be an empty but well made sturdy pack to the ground and reached into it...seemingly deeper than it was supposed to be, and pulled out his Mess Kit. A few short moments later he had his plate, and a Cup of Ale from the cask. A few moments after sampling both the Ale, and the food he set his eyes square on the host. "Before I leave, ya will be tellin' me tha recipe for both o' these." he said, very serious about this.