Dwarves Under The Outhouse Unite!

Shug Hammerfell, A Dwarf from all angles, shuffles out of the latest Tavern having been barred once again. He adjusts his bloodstained Half-plate Armor, wipes his dark ale stained lips and well kept long beard with his cloak.
He squints out into the gathering gloom with one good eye.
Having survived so many adventures to date, his mind wanders to his memory of the deepest depths of Aencars Keep... For beyond he thinks lies a mystery and perhaps the greatest treasure of them all!

Shug gathers what little remains of his wits, and seeks out a scribe to draft a call-to-arms for his brethren. He has felt lonely of late, having to keep company with folks not sharing his views on... bevy indulgences and cannibal pigs.
His love life was recently scryed by a certain blind man who left the answer open, causing further depression; as Shug saw the love of his life (The Bartender of the Six Sisters) cavorting with another demi-human.

Still standing outside, the rain now starting to downpour. Shug stares into yet another empty jug of cheap cider-pop whiskey...
He blurts out his message to the scribe who isnt there yet.
He speaks in Dwarven, as it is the Dwarven Clan he needs in this time of desperation.

((Calling All Dwarf PC's who want to help Shug finish Aencars deepest Levels. You Know you Want too! Perhaps meet up for a few hours near the Xmas Break- Other welcome of course, But BRING BACK OOR Dwarfes Ken))

Without much emotion, an armored figure seated on his war boar watches the blurting brether for a period of time. The mount is steered towards Shug and without much protocol, a battle and disease hardened Dwarf tosses a few coins towards the empty jug. "Rocks crack; they never bend." he says in Dwarven and continues with a sarge like tone. "Now get back in." Not expecting an answer he places his heels in the boars sides, gives Shug a hard stare with his one good eye and states his name. "Morigrim". Then he rides off.   

The tall, dark and handsome Hin dismounted his pony by the comatose dwarf. After rifling through the dwarf's pocket's ( pocket lint, pebbles, stale tobacco only ), the Hin stuck a message to  the dwarf's forehead using some previously chewed sticky Hinnie nectar. Athelwain Underfoot, Burglar, At yer service.