A Clan to Call Your Own

[Guest]

_Beorn Battlemail hops off the boat and onto the docks of Peltarch with a thud and a grunt, which is immediantly followed by a few other dwarves and a very large keg. He takes a deep breath and wrinkles his thick nose as the salty city air rushes through his tangled beard. Beorn quickly tightens the straps of his armor, an ornate set made of pure steel and decorated with a coat of bronze and bloodstones. He carries two blades strapped behind his shoulders and a large steel shield similar to his armor covers his back. Although relatively clean and shiny, the metal is covered in scrapes, the result of countless attacks from countless enemies. Beorn and his entourage walk proudly along the streets of the dock district before settling down on a corner by several busy dock working dwarves. When he see's the dwarves stop for a break, he eagerly waves them over to join him.

The dock working dwarves are greeted heartily and immediately offered a full mug of strong black ale brewed in Aura Runedar. Beorn introduces himself and asks the others for their names. He genuinely listens to any stories that they share with him and each other. Beorn shares several of his own, and its not long before all the dwarves attention fall on their mugs of ale and his tales of great wars with goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears, orcs, and gnolls. He also tells of running his blade through sneaking drow and going toe to toe against a white dragon, but he speaks most fervently about his battles with the duegar deep beneath the surface in the depths of the Underdark.

When the mugs are drained and the keg is tapped, Beorn gathers those still around to speak with them, looking especially at those he learned have no clan name._

"Thank ye fer the kinship. Oi'm o' simple dwarf wit few needs, aye, ale an ore go o' long way in satisfyin' me, but it's kinship that oi thirst fer the most. Growin' up, oi had no kin teh call upon, no clan o' me own. Oi too spent the beginnings o' me life in o' human city known as the City o' Sails. I was never truly content in that place and oi left as soon as oi could. It was jus' South o' here that oi ended up, at o' place called Aura Runedar, ye may know it as the Dwarven Hold. There oi found kin that would show me the ways o' our forefathers. Oi learned the teachin's o' the Mordinsamman an followin' 'em gave me the greatest fulfillment oi had ever known.

Oi want teh extend teh ye the invitation teh do the same as oi. Teh come teh Aura Runedar an' work hard, nay work teh fill sum long legger's pockets, but work that'll provide yer children wit protection, wealth, an kinship fer generations. Work that'll be forever honored and remembered.
Any o' ye er welcome teh sail wit me back teh Aura Runedar, and any o' ye that wish it, oi would be honored if ye took Battlemail as yer clan name. Moradin guide ye, kin!"