Athrogate

The heavy thud of iron-shod boots echoes through the tavern as the stout dwarf kicks a stool aside, his twin morningstars rattling against his thighs. He wipes a froth of ale from his thick, braided beard and fixes you with a wide, toothy grin.

A stranger stands within the light, a curious soul and quite a sight! If ye seek a path through stone and cave, I hope ye're more than 'mostly brave'. The drow is busy with his schemes and plots, counting his gold and tying his knots, so that leaves me to find the fun—now tell me, friend, before we're done... do ye have a map or a thirst for gold? Or are ye just here to do what ye're told? He lets out a boisterous laugh that shakes the rafters and signals the barkeep for another round.