Word of Mouth

[Salvatore_Tenhammers]

The door to the Inn opens and in walks a short, stout dwarf, his clothes richly appointed, hemmed to perfection and adorned with a myriad of designs. Several rings of gold and silver are on his thick, meaty fingers. His beard is immaculately groom, each hair perfectly in place. Nothing about him seems casual, except perhaps his body language.

"How's you all doin'? Name's Salvatore Guiseppie Tenhammers and I jus' wanted to make sure you all remembered to stop by the Un Rialto del Korrigan sometime. You might've heard it called the Marketplace."

He walks into the center of the Inn surveying everyone around, his practiced eye taking in the look and relative wealth of each patron.

"We gots everything a brave soul would need to make his way in this wonderful world; from swords and axes, crafted by fine Dwarven hands, to beautifully made armor, fit for a prince. And if you walk into the Rialto looking for something and we don't got it, let one of the helpful associates know and we'll do our best locate it for you."

He strides over to a nearby table and climbs on top, his voice raising just enough to be heard by all, he reaches down and causally grabs a nearby mug of ale and drains it in one swallow, wiping foam from his thick mustache. He sets the mug back down on the table.

"We'll also give you a fair price on anything you wish to sell, from artifacts dug out of some lost tomb, to family heirlooms. As long as it's worth something we're interested."

He pulls a couple of copper pieces from his pouch and drops them into the empty mug, the sound of their jingle punctuating his words.

"And for those looking for something special ask about our VIP membership services."

He grins a broad, toothy smile and begins to climb down from the table.

[Onimaster]

As the dwarf climbs down and his small feet touch down upon the floor he is met with another figure of similar stature. Much less fancifully adorned, and decidedly more rough around the edges. He wears his usual black tunic, headband, leathers, and kilt. At his hip he wears a gleaming golden stein of ancient dwarven make and history.

The second dwarf stands arms crossed and eying the stranger from a good foot away from him. Taking in a good look at the newcomer.

"Tenhammers is it then?" Asked Vaal. "Don't recall that house. Nor has Korrigan mentioned you."

After a moment he offers a tentative hand to Salvatore. "I am Vaalfodur Drumheller of the Helldrummer clan, ambassador to the Dwarven Homelands, Champion of Life, carrier of the flame of Angus, survivor of the dreaming, and all around pain in the ass."