The sleepy halfling shrugs.
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| | | Maybe I can finally get some sleep. | | |
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He gets off his chair and heads for the stairs to a room upstairs.
The last comments is directed towards Brews.
A few minutes later the silence in the tavern is shatter as the door is flung open by a large woman. She's built like a mountain, one would even say dwarf-like in stature, but no dwarf you've ever met is over six-feet tall and nearly three hundred pounds in weight. Unlike most dwarves you've seen, she is completely bald, not a single hair growing anywhere upon her head.
Here gear is packed poorly, it is obvious she is not used to traveling far or often. She wears a suit of blood-stained mail that is of obvious dwarven make, as is the one weapon she carries, a strange device, like a shovel with sharpened edges that end in a sharp cusp of a point that could be used for thrusting. This weapon has clearly been used for both fighting and digging recently, it's edge chipped and the spade is caked with blood and dirt. Along its haft words in Dwarven have been inscribed, though some of the symbols are obscured by a layer of grime. The symbol of Dol Arrah etched into the blade is clear enough to make out however.
She nods curtly towards Brews and orders up a drink. She lumbers towards a table, seeking out the sturdiest chair she could find to support her massive frame. She plops herself down into a suitable seat and it groans in protest. She then sets her gear on the ground beside her and a fist-sized crystal sphere rolls out of her pack. The woman picks up the orb in her meaty hand and sets it on a table. It begins to illuminate the table with a soft light that brightens the otherwise dark corner of the tavern.
She then rests her head in her arms and lets out a deep sigh from her lungs. The next sound you hear from her is sobbing.
OOC:
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With the last leader leaving and talk of adventure on the horizon, I'm putting Lucien Lightstep aside and bringing in Ghourra Gravedigger.
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