Gurnik thrust open the tavern door, and shouted to the barman his order. He sat down at a seat, and surveyed the room. It was like any human inn - there were the regulars, the 'working' women, and of course the local posh git who fancied himself as a charmer. This one was particularly gittish, laughing arrogantly at his own jokes, speaking in a loud voice about his father's estate. If he knew what was best for him, he wouldn't say a word to Gurnik - but then, he probably didn't know what was best for him.
The waitress brought him his ale, which he downed promptly. It tasted like piss, but this was to be expected of human brew. He ordered another, much to the waitress' surprise. She obviously hadn't encountered a dwarf before. He ran his hand back over his crest of blue hair, and sighed. He still had not found the heroic death he sought, but had left a bloody path in his wake. He had followed the road here after hearing rumours of strange goings on in the Forest. Knowing the locals, it was probably nothing - perhaps an overly tame pack of wolves, or some disgruntled old-timers, angry at losing their lands. Yet Gurnik had no other option but to come here. It was just like any other human town, and he was sure it would be just like every other quest. He knew also that he did not have to go searching for the leader of the inevitable and pathetic expedition that would be taking place. Dwarfs, especially slayers, had a reputation for being noticed, and he had no doubt that some fool would stumble in and nervously ask for his attendance. This he would doubtless give, for he was bound to die in battle, or die trying.
((Hope this is ok, not trying to godmod you, it just seemed in character for him to wait to be approached. Feel free to ignore him if you wish))