![]() Moreover, the 'halfling' had strangely long hair, dyed in four different colours, a silver ring dangling from his nostrils, a platinum ring hanging from his eyebrow, and was talking to a glowing pony beside him. Obviously the poor guy was not getting his daily six meals. There was a short fellow who looked like he might be halfling, albeit a rather emaciated one. At a nearby table he saw two of the strangest individuals he could imagine. Ordering a pint of warm mead from the publican, Zig looked about the tavern. He knew that "The Crooked Blade" was a meeting place for the brave and foolish. And so he left the halls of Kharvun, and returned to the town of Ysfael, to look for other adventurers and resume his stalled career. He had subsequently pursued a more peaceful career as a stone mason in the dwarven city of Kharvun, safely hidden in the peaks of the Collain Mountains.īut the 'adventuring itch' was strong - too strong for him to resist any longer. An encounter with a deranged owlbear in the depths of Wigan Wood, and the horrid deaths of his comrades during that encounter, had deeply unsettled his nerves. ![]() It had been twenty years since he had last adventured. It was a cold winter night when the grizzled dwarven fighter Zig Inzildun wandered into the tavern "The Crooked Blade".
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