Rurnur
One Thousand Club
Risoria Ducci De Columba
"I'm sure the weather will become more manageable once we find ourselves in a sheltered location, young Apple! Oh no, we must not rush! We'll be relying on you to outsmart those Cyclops so we can fight on our own terms, after all! Think you're up to the challenge?" Ducci said with a raised voice, so as not to be drowned out by the howling mountain winds. Reuniting with the other recruits, he began to lead them down the ridge towards the Dwarven village. "Indeed young Regil, we should hurry to shelter! We'll pass through the village on our way to the stronghold. I'm sure we can learn a lot from the Dwarves there. But do not stray too far!" Making their way closer, the figures became clearer, with certain locations drawing their attention. There was a larger building constructed from dark wood, that appeared to have taken a beating over the years, located in the center of the village with a warm glow emanating from the inside, most likely a traditional Dwarven tavern, as an older gentleman or two could be seen wandering in and out of the establishment, wiping beads of ale from their thick blonde or grey beards. They passed the field of large animals, now clearly a simple farm dedicated to Dwarf Bison. Their naming scheme was confusing, as the animals were twice as large and several times the weight of the common herds seen roaming the plains north of Lantana. They were named this way in reference to being bred by hardy Dwarves to be just as hardy as themselves. The farmers gave the group an unwelcoming stare, before returning to their business. At one point, it definitely occurred to Ducci that this didn't seem like a settlement capable of paying for a gold-ranked quest.
Arriving just outside the tavern, Ducci turned to face his companions once again. "You may be correct Regil, so some decorum is in order! We'll be stopping here briefly, but behave yourselves! No drinking and no tomfoolery! The more information we can acquire regarding our task the better, but we'd do well not to earn the ire of the people here. Onward!" He declared before bursting into the tavern, immediately comforted by the warmth of a great hearth and the smell of fresh cooking. Upon entering, he came to realize the village perhaps wasn't as empty as it seemed from up on the ridge, as apparently the entire population was gathered in this very tavern. They seemed an older bunch, with only a handful of young faces about, most were thin by Dwarven standards, with pale blond hair and rough skin. Many eyes were upon the group, but moreover from a general interest, rather than anything such as disdain, at least for now.
"Good day to you all! We are adventurers from the Waystone Guild, following up on a request!" Ducci bowed and presented his companions to the bargoers. "Any information that could help us on our quest would be greatly appreciated!" He announced to the bar, before engaging with a nearby drunk who barely registered his questions. Most of the Dwarves turned back and continued chatting away and drinking, though a handful of elderly Dwarves kept a watch of the adventurers. One Dwarf in particular was sat at the bar but turned to face the party, and seemed rather interested in them. He stood out among the crowd, with fair, unblemished skin, dirty blonde hair and a gut that put many of the drunks here to shame. He grinned and nodded in their direction, raising his glass. "Aye, that's them." He could be heard saying, before finishing off his ale.
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