Figtle Drank Half His Clay Mug of Thick, Syrupy Draught, Heart and Mind Heavy.

When he'd first been approached by the half-Elven triplets, he hadn't been around anyone other than Dwarves his entire life- he'd assumed the three of them were brothers. But these past few days in the slums- clearing out kobolds and orcs, goblins and more- he'd come to realize that Fimu, that untried arena fighting magic user, was not a he, but a she... He stroked his thick black beard with thick fingers, whiskers wet with beer.

Life was supposed to be simple as a Dwarf. Hate elves, hit things with metal  clubs, drink too much beer.

As a Dwarf, he was supposed to feel nothing but contempt for anything Elven, whether it be people, places, or things... but he couldn't find it in himself to feel contempt for Fimu. In fact, thinking of her kept him awake at night and not because he disliked her... Rather, he found himself trying to please her. To catch her eye. It made him feel strange inside and he wasn't used to that feeling. He bit his lip accidentally, then bit it again. He could still feel things- more alcohol was needed.

He slammed the mug onto the table after draining it all in one great series of thick gulps that brought tears to his eyes. By Kannu's beard, life was complicated.