The tables were cleared. The bar polished and the very small room had maybe 3 tables. Tharqus Buell smiled through his verdant whiskers. Some nights there might not be a soul that would open the large solid oak door. His rest stop was in the middle of what would be described as nowhere. But the wanderers that traveled the dangerous world knew that this was a warm place with a hot meal, and the friendly face of Tharq waiting to hear their tales and for him to share the ones he had heard previously. He smiled even wider thinking how he was happy to bring shelter to those that needed it as the bell attached to the door jingled with his first visitor of the night…
With a knack for Magic, this race of bearded folk brings new meaning to the word comrade. The most loyal of soldiers and hospitable of merchants, these brown-bearded folk have a unique gift for magic as well as a gift for gab.
They make a home wherever they set their boots. Old-timers say it isn’t a home until a Hearthbeard has called it so. Guardians and custodians of their kin, it’s been said among the other bearded Folk that it is folly to set upon a journey without a Hearthbeard in your company. Counted on for their master brewing ability and a knack for finding a meal among the most difficult of conditions; they are often seen as providers among the Bearded Folk. No one, not even the Frostbeards, fights well on an empty belly without a swig of ale.