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A dim glow radiate from the fire as Dan swallows down another ale. Spread around him are countless steins with their handles tarnished and twisted. The bar maids uneasiness around him sets the tone through out the tavern as quick glances and quiet whispers cascade by. A loud thud followed by a long winded sigh as the sight of another stein rolls across the floor hobbling to a hault. Steam seems to radiate from the mug as the handle hisses and snaps as if freshly pulled from the kiln. Staring down at the table Dan ever slowly picks up a metallic quill as the bar maid rushes by dropping another ale on his table. Dan picks up the mug and begins pouring the ale on the parchment there, an ever slight smile crosses his face as he begins muttering to himself.


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The bottom of the letter crumbles into pieces of ash as you try to pick it up..

Abi sits across the smoke filled tavern, carefully watching Dan with glinting eyes. Between the passing customers of the bustling crowd, Abi could see still-images of Dan desperately struggling with himself. Still with one eye on Dan, Abi munches on a warm custard filled pastry, and whispers to himself between bites. "It has tae be th' Hobbits weed. Och aye fur sure, puir bloke." With custard now mucked in his beard, Abi moans lightly with delight as he turns his full attention to his delicious dessert.

Suspicious eyes and glances grow ever present with the presence of the Dwarven Warrior.

Whispers and hushed tones only serve to add to the conundrum that is evident here.

A certainty however, is that times are dire. With desperation comes madness.