Hammer and Harp Inn

The hammer fell against the red hot iron, finally flattening the metal out before he set it once more into the burning coals of the forge. The dwarf sighed a bit in satisfaction, the horse shoe coming along quite well. His pale Blonde hair was shaved up into a Mohawk, while his beard was neatly and tightly braided down along his chest. He wore a well kept apron,, that protected his well built frame.

But the dwarf's mind did wander as he stared into coals. The flames being stoked with the small gusts of wind, only causing his heart so sink slightly. 

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Two figures sat in the flower-covered yard of the empty house. A hastily scribbled sign at the entrance signified the home had no one to call its master, but the two seemed comfortable enough, or perhaps, one of them did.

Bree has proven thus far to be the ire and bane of my very existence. I thought Dale could be unfeeling towards those in urgent need, but this place - suspicious and wary of outsiders - is clearly much worse about it. They look upon my clothes and hear my accented words and turn me away. They care not about the story I have to share; the siblings trailing behind me with a look of desperation in their eyes.