None of the dwarves were the ones Rygar had been hunting. If he had passed through the village, he was long gone. He downed his pint and let the foam froth around his mouth. He loved the smell of good ale. After a moment of basking in the scent of good brew, he wiped the froth away and jumped off his stool. He went to the notice board and placed the wanted poster dead in the center. He grabbed a nail and slammed it through the rough paper. Just in case the fool decided to wander through here eventually, maybe somebody in town would catch him. He stepped aside as an older human walked past him to get to the door. Probably, too much merriment for a grumpy elder.
Normally, it's the exact atmosphere Rygar loved to engulf himself in when he traveled, but this trip was different than most. It was personal. He couldn't waste time and risk this target from getting away. He tightened his belt and made for the door. If this village didn't have the answers he needed, he'd have to go elsewhere. There are so few places a rogue dwarf can go after all.