[Koobdooga]

Ibun greets Baldin


Ibun Lodestone leaned back in his chair, his feet propped on the Inn’s front porch railing, and followed the progress of the Dwarf in the dark grey cloak across the grassy sward. The fellow he noted had taken a seat at an out of the way table, and made himself at home.

Boots off! A pipe in one hand, and a mug of ale. And a decidedly satisfied look on his face.

Ibun stuffed his own now cold pipe in his vest pocket and fetched a pitcher of the dark-as-night ale from the cask he’d won earlier in the day. ‘Can’t be letting your mug get dry now, can we?’ he said as he approached the Dwarf’s table and offered to pour a refill. ‘Ibun Lodestone,’ he went on, ‘from Khazad-dûm.’