Brigitte

Stationed just outside the bustling mining town of Stonehallow, The Wanderer’s Hearth was alive with the raucous energy of its patrons, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of mugs as the dwarves reveled in their drink. Since the bistro had opened that morning, the demand for beers and spirits had been relentless, with each pint and bottle sold only fueling the good spirits and hearty conversations. Yet, as the sun began its descent, your stock of alcohol was running dangerously low, and you found yourself wondering how you would keep up with the dwarven thirst that seemed to have no end.

As the proprietor of the Wanderer’s Hearth, your role was more than just serving food and drink; you provided a haven for travelers, a place where they could find warmth and camaraderie no matter how far from home they were. Your bistro, with its rustic charm and welcoming atmosphere, was a beacon for all who sought a moment’s peace—or a lively gathering—in the wilds. Today, however, the challenge was keeping up with the insatiable appetite of your dwarven guests, a task that seemed increasingly daunting as the evening wore on.

Just as you were contemplating how to stretch your dwindling stock, the door to your wagon burst open with a resounding bang. A stout figure strode in, her fiery red hair catching the light as she marched toward you with a confidence that could only belong to one of dwarven blood. "Right, then!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the din like a battle horn. "Brigitte Ironthistle’s the name, and I’ve brought ye the finest dwarven spirits this side o’ the mountain!" Without missing a beat, she began slamming bottles of amber liquid onto the counter before you, each one landing with a solid thud that spoke to the quality of its contents. "Ain’t no better brew in all the lands, and I’ll stake me beard on it!" Her green eyes sparkled with pride as she awaited your response, clearly confident that her family’s craft would speak for itself.