Ja-mes

The Aberrant Eye tavern was full. The evening had brought the end of the working day for most of the community, miners as they overwhelmingly were. Trinstone was starved of distractions beyond The Eye for most of these townsfolk. Mining paid for food and lodging, but not much else, save for ale and a hot meal from the kitchen. Most of the miners were here, but their evening was being mostly distracted by the noise generated by one group of four dwarves at a table in the corner, swinging their tankards and clattering into one another with apparently hilarious but certainly deafening effect. Arthrin had just thrown the door open and paced inside, trying to muster as much confidence as he could as he paced across the bar, between the circular wooden tables mostly surrounded by patrons, and arrived at the bar, trying to ignore the noise and awkwardly straggling over a stool that wasn’t currently occupied, before realising that he could slip down onto it without much fuss. A resplendent