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The man that was singing slowly came into view through a clutter of tools and items that adorned a workbench before the corner turn, he was black haired with a deep booming voice and as the song would have suggested he was indeed a dwarf. There was an anvil to the left of a large flaming pit next to a modestly sized brick chimney fitted so that it all came together to create a functioning yet impressive forge. It's heat could be felt full force upon turning the corner that would make anyone not accustomed to the sweltering heat want to derobe almost entirely just to cool their bodies. The anvil had a runemark on it and the top was blazing red as a very traditional dwarven breakfast of hashed browns, eggs, steak, bacon, and large sausages cooked in a massive quantity next to a pile of 15 slices of overly crisped toast that would likely be hard and unpleasant to eat. The method of cooking would leave a slight taste of fire and metal on the tongue, certainly ruining the food for most people. Just like the cooking of the warband back in the dwarven woodlands. 

As Garanin spoke and cut off the song, the man stopped singing and turned to face him. His beard was about mid length, face covered in ash and soot with his nose thin and defined leading to a very kind looking face. The man laughed a warming booming laugh at the sight of another dwarf and quickly pounded a fist to his left shoulder still holding a metal clamp with a orange glowing piece of metal in it's grasp, shooting sparks onto the eggs behind him as his fist met his shoulder. [color=ed1c24]"Hail Brother! It is an interesting day indeed to see another Dwarf walk through these doors!"[/color] He tucked the clamp in between his arm and his side and extended his blackened hand, rough and strong as would be expected from long experienced worker.

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