Habarut A city engaged in simple trade and commerce, it is a cove for underground activity as well as the meeting of officials in a neutral ground untainted by war. This will be the destined place that those faced in this world will meet. "Ey what'll ya be havin then?" The man that spoke was ugly as sin. his face strewn with scars and other over-expired blemishes. His teeth were rot with decay and his breath was nothing but the finest dwarven' brew. It made sense as the man was also a dwarf and his name was Rogmot. The keeper of the most frequented bar of Habarut, The "Wasted Heathen" A fitting name for the crowd it often attracted. Today was no different. "Ey did ya hear me boy?" Coaxed from his fantasies Tirian looked up with a crude smirk. "Yeah I heard you. Just get me some water from the well. I have to keep a clear head." Rogmot scoffed under his breath and slammed his fist on the counter. "I's not a fuck'n drink'm well boy! if you r'nt gn'a buy then get the hell outa h're! Tirian wasn't so easily intimidated by a dwarf that was red in the face though. His eyes became slits, dark serpent like slits as he glared back at the man. "Alright... three of yer damn ales." Rogmot huffed again then disappeared behind behind a half wall. That was hardly the only thing happening though. Little by little the pieces came into play, and soon the board was set. The game was just beginning.