Gregory Stinhund
A drunken wrastel haunted by voices in his head and terrorist in his dream. Build with the body of a dwarven paragon, Gregory is exactly the type one would expect to do great things. Reality is often more disappointing.
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Wrastrel's Rest
The Wastrel's Rest
A flop house near the river docks, home to the poor, the drug addled and the occasional sailor.
I got in a few days ago via sand-port and went to the Rest. Though I had been very drunk, the sand skiff I had rode on was a marvel. A marvel in that I actually managed to get here at all.
I had stayed here the last time and it fit my mood. People leave me alone and I leave people alone. Only the riff-raft come here and besides the pleasure of murder that some seek, there is nothing here worthy of causing serious trouble over.
Its location will be a good place to stay while I figure out my next steps. The clean water is an added bonus, helping me to wake up in the morning after my drunken stupor.
Ive managed to explore the various taverns in Dalen'Rue. While wandering down an alley to take a piss, I tripped over this moron in the street and tried to wake him up with a gentle kick to the side...
Then the idiot threw a tankard at my head. And then the man starts swinging at me and round houses me in the face. For his trouble I smashed my fist into the side of his head.
Its Ugnar. Goddamn it. We head back to the Wrastrel's Rest. The dwarf is clearly lost.
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