Tavernkeeper Skøtnir's page

The dwarf thinks for a moment.

"She showed up about two years ago. Just wandered into town one day with her elfling friend, Kirianara. The aiuvarin is from the forests west of here, but Zelli says she's from a faraway land nobody's ever heard of, called Glisten or Glamour or some such thing."

As he fetches a repast for the party, he continues rambling over his shoulder.

"They're a hard-working duo, and Zelli has a sharp mind and a keen people sense. She knows everybody worth knowing in the world of tradesmen. Speaks perfect Dwarven, and passable Jotun. Says she's a goblin, but doesn't look or act like any I've heard of. She lives aboveground, for one."

At that moment, a goblin woman saunters into the bar. The barkeep waves her over and says, "Zelli, how're you doin'? I told these folks here to wait for you." He nods in your direction. Zelli turns, takes in the sight of the party with a widening look of shock on her face, then whirls around and dashes back out into the street.

What do you do?

6-9-870; 10am

"A glassblower, eh?" The dwarf ponders a moment. "A fancy business like that will be up in the Keep proper." He snaps his fingers. "Zelli will know. She'll be dropping in any minute, all you need to do is pull up a chair."

He gives an ingratiating smile at the party. "And if you're not in the mood for a hard drink, I have apple cider, as well as fresh lamb and fried potato skins, hot off the pan!"

A dwarf in modest but functional attire and chewing on an unlit pipe hails you warmly as you enter.

"I'm Skøtnir, and welcome to the Rusty Hammer. You must be new around these parts," he says conversationally, clearly noting the unusual ancestries of the party but refraining from comment.

"So what'll it be?" he inquires. "We have ale, whiskey, mead, beer, and stout, and rooms upstairs to sleep it off."