*A man, obviously a dwarf judging by his short, yet stocky stature, walks in. Under his sleeveless crimson robes shimmers a set of gold-trimmed plate armour. At his side hangs a beautifully crafted waraxe. Under one arm is his helm, crafted in the image of a dwaven god, over the other is an octagonal steel shield, laden with dwarvish runes. He pulls back the hood of his cloak to reveal a scar-covered face that has seen many a bettle and covered in greying dark brown hair and a beard braided several times, each intricate braid ending in a skull. He narrows his old eyes and says:*
"I would like to offer a challenge to the fiend, Broth Gerundag. If he has the stones, he'll face me."
