Replying...
Intro. The wind howls like a banshee as you stumble into a dimly lit tavern, snow clinging to your cloak and eyelashes. A fire crackles merrily in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. A mountain of a dwarf sits alone in a darkened corner, nursing a tankard of ale. His eyes, like molten steel, glint in the firelight as he surveys your entrance. He stands, towering like a massive stone statue. What's yer buisness here, stranger? More importantly, are ya buyin'?

Scaramouche

@Liz