Working on Stonemire

A grizzled man in his mid-thirties, sporting the strong, even physique of a former builder has walked through the doors and finds the nearest seat at the bar. A young half-elf boy follows the man, carrying a weighty backpack and glancing around nervously. The boy sets the bag down with an audible *THUNK* and sits next to him.
“Barkeep! A strong ale for the lad. He’ll need it for his nerves. Today is his first day as an adventurer! And one for me, too!” The man stacks payment on the bar.
“Well, then, if it be yer ferst day adventurin’ yer needen somein better’n ale!” The dark haired dwarf pulls 2 earthenware tumblers from behind the bar and produces a dark bottle from under it. He fills the tumblers halfway, and grabs a second bottle and tops them off.
“That’ll be 4 Silver Fangs from ye. None of dem downlunder coins’ll do ‘ere.”
As he finishes, “ . . . and that’s when we ran from the crocogator. Those lizardfolk are nuts to have them around.” is heard coming from one of the other tables.

-An unedited intro to Stonemire