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The Stone in Fist Inn is a large building cast on one side by the church of Pelor and on the other by a cesspool known as the housing district. It stands two stories tall with wide windows looking down onto the small walk way that twists and turns from the main road that this town in built from. Reaching the front of the Stone in Fist Inn is daunting as large castle sized doors made out of dark wood tower over the threshold. Runes line the archway that leads to the building's innards. Even being in the "bad" part of town, the halls of the inn are filled with the sounds of people laughing, yelling, and even fighting, though it seems those breaking the peace are quickly found and kicked out it.

A large siting area lies before you. No smaller than 40ft by 40ft with a large roaring fireplace , meat cooking away as men drool over it like dogs that have not eaten in years. Milling about the floor is a lovely assortment of people handing out pints of beer and other fare. Facing the fireplace not 10 feet from the seating area is a bar. It runs the entire length of the back wall. Stools are placed every five feet. Standing behind the bar is the proud owner and barkeep, a dwarf, small even by their standards. His arms are crossed over his barrel chest and his beard covers most of his face. His brown hair is lanky and seems to drip with grease.

At the back of this building lies a stair case with a simple sign before it reading "Rooms, talk to Rufus Iron-bottom for a key."

Turning his head slowly looking at this man, the small dwarf of a barkeep smiles at this new customer, with a wide and robust grin. slamming his hand on the top of he bar and laughing softly threw his long and thick beard."What , you want my beer!?" He spoke in a loud voice for such a small being. " You look like you should use a child's glass! huhuhuhu.." He wondered off with a limp or a wattle it was hard to really tell the difference with some dwarfs

As he looked around. No one looked at him, for unknowing to him this was a normal rant coming from this Dwarf. In his mind Dwarfs where the only people tat could drink real beer.

Coming back with the same hobble in his step " Here!" Was all he said as he slammed the cup on to the table snding beer on tot eh bar and ground and looked at him. " Well come on, lets see the "smart" man take a drink like a real man." As he talked his bead shuck wildly spit flying from his mouth, spraying over this man's face.

((the "B" of a sister wants the computer so I'll pick up later. I'm off for the next two days too.))

Picking up his ale and drinking as much as he can in one breath, Geran begins to choke as the mug of beer flies toward him and the elven stranger. He flings himself to the side like the mug was a grenade and lands with a hard thump on the floor.

"Hey! Watch it buddy!" Geran shouts, angry from embarrassment at his over reaction.

He gets back up on his seat and looks at Iron-Bottom in consternation,

maybe this'll get his attention ...

"Hey, isn't your name Iron-Bottom?"

Geran snickers a little to himself.

Geran puts on his best smile and says confidently to the bar keeper "I'm not a child anymore. Gimme your best shot!"

He then winks melodramatically and shows lots of white teeth.

Geran glances apprehensively at the dwarf's fist and mutters

"As long as we are talkin about beer, I'm sure ... "