"Ale I said, drat yer eyes. Not this piss-poor excuse fer alcohol." The harsh croaking voice echoed around the inn with the sound of a tankard crashing to the floor. "This is meant to be an inn, isn't it? So put some decent beer IN my tankard."
Poor though the attempted joke was, it was followed by a sound like the creaking of un-oiled hinges, possibly laughter?
The speaker was a dwarf, a little on the small and slender side for even one of that notoriously short race. His beard and hair were a fiery red colour although the hair colour was difficult to distinguish, being spiked up on end by the use of some kind of stiffener, possibly lime plaster, which tended to obscure the original colour. He wore a set of finely made leather armour and carried a warhammer on one side of his harness and 2 throwing hammers on the other.