Lokir arrived at Merkford, the Dwarf looked around, finding nothing impressive about the place. "Even the Mines of Mors look better structured than this shabby little... Oh, a Tavern!" He said excitedly as he rushed to the Tavern. He walked in to hear everybody clapping. Well, well. Looks like some people around here at least know me. He thought as he bowed. But, they seemed to be ignoring him... "Eh? Oi, what's the big idea here?" He said, folding his arms angrily. His eyes strayed to Tristan who had just tipped a mug of rum on some Drunkard's head. He gave a slight chuckle but abruptly stopped as he realised that he was the one everyone was clapping at. "Oh, so some guy wasting his money on a drink just to pour it on some guy's head is enough to clap at but not the sight of a mighty dwarf? Why, I oughta' give you all a good pound to the noggin'... There's obviously somethin' wrong up there..." He muttered to himself.