Nalin had taken to marching steadily along side the wagon as they began their journey down the road out of town. His hammer shifting from shoulder to shoulder(and occasionally across both) as they traveled. It seemed he was content to stick to the stereotype of the stoic dwarf. He listened as the other spoke and chatted, sharing various pieces of information about themselves. He would only offer a brief introduction, simply<strong>"I be Nalin, of tha Goodhammer clan. A humble warrior of Amathos"</strong><br/><br/>As they came upon the burned town, a frown caused his mustache to twitch slightly. He simply shook his head at the suggestion of scouts<strong>"Best if I lure 'em out lass, prepare yehselves."</strong>Hammer slipped effortlessly into a ready position infront of him, a gauntlet-ed fist at the end of the pole, the other about half way up. He would then march towards the center of the town. The clanking of his armor announcing his presence.<br/><br/><br/>