<div class="floatright">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/79/66/a0/7966a08a8b27fdeb5c9813d715bdb749.jpg)</div><br/><strong>"Three ruddy days, an nutin' ta show fer it but cart tracks."</strong>the dwarf spat out, complaining to no one in particular. It had been three days since he left Dolsk, heading towards the Arcane Academy both to ply is trade and perhaps do a little research of his own just out of curiosity. He had hoped to make a few sales or commissions along his trade route, but this being his first time in Skirith lands he had no idea of that blasted curse of stone the locals kept spouting out.<strong>"Superstitious fools, turnin' down good stone fer wood."</strong>he could just not understand their refusal of dwarven carved stone. Perhaps it was more of a local thing, but it still irked him, he was not much of a merchant, just an artisan using the craft his mother gave him. Still you would not see many artisans Decked out in Breast plate, but a dwarf in Skirith lands would do well to protect himself.<br/><br/>The Sharp cry of a hawk pierced the funk the Dwarf was in and brought his eyes forward. If he remembered the route right this should be Tanhok, good he could use a nice stiff drink. Maybe if he was lucky the Innkeeper would have something stronger on tap than the weak ale Humans drank, something designed to put hair on your chin and a fire in your belly.<strong>"Aye, Ah see it Astim, seems the whole town has turned out ta meet me, how thoughtful of them."</strong>He spurned the mules on, eager to get this little meet and greet out of the way, find out which among them were most likly to try and rough him up that night. Always a few in every bunch it seems, he had encountered a fair bit of hostility at the last place he stayed. Good news was those boys would only be bed ridden for a few days.<br/><br/>As he approached the town he gave them a smile as he guided his cart to the side of the two strangers already receiving the towns hospitality.By now anyone with half a brain and a lick of worldly sense could tell he was a dwarf. Coming to a towering 4 feet 5 inches(for a dwarf) he was built like he was carved from the stone itself. His beard braided and adorned with a clasp that held the mark of his clan, a Heater shield emblazoned with a storm cloud. Streaks of Grey shown in the rich chocolate brown of his facial hair., evidence to either a hard life or a long one.<strong>"Well now, ye did not hav' ta set up this little party on my account...."</strong>he said, eyes scanning the crowd to gain stock of them<strong>"...t'would 'ave been better had ye had a tankard in yer hand fer me."</strong>as he finished that last line his gaze had settled on Peter.