A wagon, driven by a dwarf in rugged but colorful clothes of green and yellow rattles down the dirt lane. The grade is a bit steep causing difficulty but not distress for the two thick-legged ponies pulling the heavily laden vehicle. In the back, surrounded by barrels and propped up in the back is a battered looking man with a grey beard and balding grey hair. Around his neck is a scarf of an unusual blue hue, his hat sits in lap as he wipes his bald pate with a piece of linen cloth.
“Brogah! How long till we git they?” asks the man in his voice full of bass. He knows the answer before it leaves his lips having asked the same question not half an hour before. As predicted the dwarf’s answer comes back to him in almost as deep a voice, “Before the sun sets, like I told you last time!”
