Dîm cracked his neck on impulse. No longer something he did when he felt like it, it was a habit. Icy blue eyes shimmering in contrast to his golden beard he puffed a cloud of smoke from the mahogany pipe resting in the corning of his full lips. Watching it rise up into the moist cold sky, it was swept away from a cool breeze, chilling the dwarf.
"Some call me Silverrage, others Dîm, but you may call me Dîm Silverrage, or Dîm for short. Doesn't really matter to mehself really." the curious-acting humanoide riddled.
Dîm Silverrage snuggled down into the seat of his cart and shuffled his toes around in his leather boots, trying to remain comfortably warm. The breeze that blew one of his recent puffs of smoke(seven more were already made and gone in the mild gail after that) blew through the trees, yielding the cicadas buzzing tune and the solo of the songbird.
Turning back to the women below him, he let out another burst of smoke and shifted his face into a quizzical smile, eyebrows cocked up ward. His dwarven facade looking amusing, he spoke in the raspy and deep, but young sounding, voice.
"And whom do I have the pleasure of meeting on this fair day?", The dwarf questioned(with two more puffs)
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