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  1. "Ho! Patrons of the Crow's Egg!" The drunk dwarf swayed slightly from his precarious perch atop the old battered table, creaking slightly under his weight. He burped before continuing, "My names is Sigurd Hammerhand and I am here to invite you on my GRAND ADVENTURE!" Sigurd caught himself, barely, from toppling over when he threw his arms out wide. "I come to take you on a magnificent quest, a journey to riches and fame beyond your wildest imagination!" Sigurd hiccuped and smiled in satisfaction at his speech. As he opened his mouth to continue his drunken monologue, he heard a man yell from the other side of the common room, "You want riches? Take this and spare the rest of us your babbling!" A rather large coin purse smacked him square in the forehead, knocking him off the table and on to his seat. "Why you Duregar loving son of a Drow! Who threw that! What's your name!" A young man rose from where the coins came from and announced himself as Alvar. He carried himself like a king, a young, arrogant king. Sigurd started across the room ready to put another scar on the pretty boy's face when a much older man stood up and reprimanded the younger for challenging a complete stranger. The older man, who had an impressive beard, introduced himself by a name the dwarf was too drunk to remember. He looked like a cleric of some sort though Sigurd didn't recognize the symbol on his tabard or know anything of a "Martyr". Apologizing for the actions of his companion before turning back, he mentioned something about a crown. That seemed to change Alvar's mood for the better before they both left the tavern. Feeling downtrodden from his unwelcome rejection, Sigurd left the Crow's egg and wandered out onto the dark, damp street of the Foreigner's District. He drunkenly stumbled down the path towards the open area courtyard to get some fresh air and enjoy his pipe in solitude.