<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/o8Mo6fw.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;">Falgrim Forgeheart</span>(https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2145823)<br/><sup><strong>HP:</strong>40/40   <strong>AC:</strong>16  <strong>Passive perception:</strong>11</sup><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gilliam's Emporium<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>open<br/><strong>Active Effects:</strong>none<br/><hr/><br/>3 days, 3 DAYS, he had been staying at this tavern. His last investigation had run into a dead end and he had ended up sinking the the bottom of the glass here at the Emporium. Which was full of vile filth, gods he loved that about it, still some of the patrons he could have done without. The goblins in particular bothered him, nothing but vermin that tried to steal food in his opinion. Even now with them tormenting the house slave, a show but one of cruelty. Perhaps when he finally decided or found another direction to move in he could leave them a little parting gift, something that went boom.<br/><br/>This of course was all just frustrated thinking on his part. So this dwarf clad in scale male and carrying with him a peculiar looking staff sat at the end of the bar and ordered another mug of Dwarven ale, at least underground in a town owned by deep humans he could get something other than that poor excuse for alcohol Drow call wine.<strong>"I'll be having another one."</strong>He called to the keep, pushing the empty one away and turning to view the Show on stage. The tavern pet be cute, but he has no appetite for flesh right now, not enough ale yet.