Dead as ever

[Guest]

A muscular dwarf with a red beard cut short to his chest arrives at The Hold. He keeps his head hung low somewhat hiding the horrible scars that run across his face and proceed up his bald head. Not recognized by any of the dwarven occupants, he hesitantly makes his way into the Tuck-Me-Inn. He puts his thumb over the bowl of his smoking pipe and steps up to the bartender who is preoccupied wiping out an empty mug.

"Well what'll it be for ye?" asks the bartender.

"It’ll be a long day, Disin. Start me off with a pint o’ yer finest.” replies the muscular dwarf.

Disin raises his eyebrow and lifts his head. One glance at the hilt of a longsword strapped behind the scarred dwarfs back confirms his suspicion.

“Beourn?!” cries Disin.

“At yer service kin, now how about that mug, eh? It’s been too long since I’ve tasted real ale.” Beourn says with a slight smile as he lifts his head fully, revealing the grim features of his face.

Disin blinks a few times before he moves to fill up a mug.

“Everyone thought ye dead, Beourn. What’s the meanin’ o’ this?” Disin says with a perplexed look on his face as he sets a foaming mug in front of Beourn.

“Oo oi, dead as ever.” Beourn replies as he puts the mug to his scarred lips and downs the ale. He slams the empty mug on the counter and lets out a sigh of satisfaction through his frothy beard.

“Torn apart in the Underdark. Then was resurrected somewhere in them deep tunnels. As I stood back on me own feet and realized what happened, realized the worth o’ meself, I fell into despair. I fled into dark leaving behind all me gear, hatin’ meself for failin’ me friends, hatin’ me friends for bringin’ me back from death.”

Beourn stares deeply into the bottom of his mug before Disin takes it and quickly replaces it with a full mug getting a nod of appreciation from Beourn.

“I found me way out o’ the tunnels, but couldn’t find the strength to face me friends again. I wanted to go back to me life ‘ere in Norwick, but weeks turned into months and months into years, and I never found me heart to come back. I left Narfell and thought to never return.

No matter where I went I found meself thinkin’ o’ nights at Norwick’s south gates and the ringin’ o hammers in the Union Hall. I knew I had found me home here long ago, and try as I might, nowhere else in Faerun could offer me that.” Beourn says as he finishes off his ale and lays a few gold pieces on the counter.

“Is Vanderkaus still around?” asks Beourn as he relights his pipe and makes his way toward the door.

“Aye, more than likely in the smithin’ hall.” Replies Disin as he scoops up the gold pieces.

Beourn nods and shuts the door behind him.