Kabbi Bronzedew, Dwarven Druid

The Sandpoint festival reminded Kabbi of grand market days his clan held every few months. Travelers from far and wide would gather in the Bronzedew encampment to trade their wares for fine dwarven goods. However, the people of Sandpoint clearly partied harder than Kabbi's kin and the druid quickly found himself overwhelmed by the onslaught of sounds, smells and sights.

Thankfully, he spotted a familiar face in the crowd gathered around the weight-lifting competitors. "Well met, Master Entros!" he approached the half-elf with a wide smile. "Got tired of the mosquitos around Skull River, eh?" He turned towards the strange men gathered nearby. "I don't think we've met before, right? Name's Kabbi Bronzedew. Now, I heard something about drinks? I'd say that feat of strength deserves a mug of ale or two!" Kabbi attempted to pat Torrik on the shoulder, but his hand reached only halfway up the middle of the orc's back.