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Shining black, it grew thick and luxuriant, tumbling over
his chest and down past his belt. His hair, too, was as black
and curly as his beard, and he wore it almost as long. Like
most dwarves, he was rotund and probably hadn't seen his
feet below his round belly in years. Unlike most dwarves,
however, Dougan was dressed in a flamboyant style that
would have well become the Lord of Palanthas.
Outfitted in a red velvet jacket, red velvet breeches,
black stockings, black shoes with red heels, and a silk shirt
with puffy sleeves - a shirt that might once have been white
but was now stained with dirt, spirits, and what may have
been lunch - Dougan was an astonishing sight. He was
remarkable, too, in other ways. Most dwarves are somewhat
surly and withdrawn around members of other races, but
Dougan was jovial and talkative and altogether the most
engaging stranger the brothers had come across on their
travels. He, in his turn, appeared to enjoy their company.
"By Reorx," said the dwarf admiringly, watching Tanin
and Sturm drain their mugs, "but you are lads after my own
heart. Its a pleasure to drink with real men."
Sturm grinned. "There are not many who can keep up
with us," he boasted, motioning the dwarf to pour the
spirits
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