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How you all ended up in the Wise Piper Inn is a bit of a story, but the common thread is that a man named Silas Gribb offered you a job as caravan guards. It looked like easy gold. The trek was painless, but upon the caravan's arrival in Belhaim, Gribb was arrested on a warrant for smuggling. Belhaim's sheriff and his most skilled deputies headed out within the hour to escort him and his confiscated good south to Cassomir. You had no problems convincing the authorities of your ignorance about Silas' criminal activities, but are left stranded in Belhaim, as Silas is obviously unable to pay them for the caravan job.
Luckily, the young proprietor of the Wise Piper Inn, Talia Orem, took pity on the lot of you and offered free room and board for a few days. Some of you help around the inn, some offer your services to the locals for a few coins, and some lounge around freeloading off her generosity.
You find yourselves in the Wise Piper's common room as evening falls. Silas and his troubles were only just yesterday. The lot of you are seated at a long table, enjoying a free meal of fresh bread with cheese and honey, washed down by watery mead.
Marcus sits back in his chair, idly plucking on his lute as his companions finish their meal.
The bard is a tall man. He'd had a fighters body once, but years of hard living on the road has taken its toll. His frame, while muscled, has a lean, almost unhealthy, look to it. A body used to hard work and too many nights with an empty belly.
His face is much the same. Once quite handsome with a strong jaw, brown eyes, and dirty blonde hair now exhibits the trials of the road. His hair might be showing a touch of grey despite his mere twenty five years, lines around his eyes again aging his face far too soon.
Despite it all, his smile is ready and he is quick to joke, drink and sing.
As he watches his companions eat he is conflicted between satisfaction at having a full belly and companions to share a meal with, a real treat after so much solitary travel, and disappointment at not being paid for escorting an apparent smuggler. Considering the emptiness of his coin purse, disappointment was in the lead.
At least the local authorities found us innocent of Silas' crimes, thank the Gods for small favors
Snapping out of his reverie, he gets Talia's attention.
Good Lady Talia, should you find it desirable, I would offer my services to liven up this tavern tonight.
Grargath reaches up the table to spread more honey on a piece of bread. He could be described as stout, typical for a dwarf, and muscular from working in the mountains all his life.
He calls out, "Aye, let th' man give us some music. We could use somethin' t' take our minds off o' t'day. 'S dead quiet in here anyway." He quickly gulps down the bread and washes it down with his mug of mead. If it can even be called mead, he privately thinks to himself. This swill don't compare to the proper drink we had back at home.
Grargath quietly picks part of his dinner out of his light colored beard as he reminisces about home. He has a stern expression on his face despite a quickly filling belly, but getting cheated out of pay for honest work (well it seemed honest at the time) would do that to a dwarf.
"Lot o' good that Gribb fella was, eh?" he asks to no one in particular. "'E can rot in prison here fer all I care, th' rotten cheat."
"Aye, let th' man give us some music. We could use somethin' t' take our minds off o' t'day. 'S dead quiet in here anyway."
And Kade knew that he certainly wasn't helping in that regard. Still as talkative as a brooding boulder, he had only opened his mouth to make way for more bread since sitting at the table. For a brief second he felt a pang of regret at the dwarf's words, because Kade found him fascinating. Having lived an isolated life, in a very literal sense until recently, he didn't have much experience with the different races of the world. The affectations of Grargath and Cira were just a bit alien to him, sometimes subtly and at other times overtly so, and he couldn't help but be curious about these wholly different beings.
Not that he'd actually done anything about this. Oh no, that would require actually talking to them. Couldn't have that.Instead he opted for another slice of bread. It was good bread. Kade hadn't had a really good meal since being released from prison. Well, technically every meal he'd eaten since prison had been home cooked. But there's wasn't much special about a home cooked meal when you didn't have a home.
Cira wipes her mouth with the back of her hand as she finishes her meal, sighing with satisfaction.
Sitting back in her seat, she looks fondly over her companions with clear blue eyes, thinking not for the first time on her good fortune in finding them so soon after her departure from home.
Home. She fidgets with a strand of her long black hair as she pushes that thought back to the deep recesses of her mind with a sharp shake of her head. The willowy, freckled half-elf hadn't yet told her traveling companions much about where she came from, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to. The thought of it made her anxious.
She nods towards Grargath, taking a drink of her mead. "I still can't believe we lost out on all that money. What a waste."
After a moment she turns to Kade, poking at his leg under the table with her toes. "We don't bite, you know," she jokes with a kind smile. "You are allowed to talk. I don't think any of us would mind." At twenty-nine, she'd never been shy, and enjoyed getting to know others, and the ever-quiet Kade was a mystery.
On another world proxemics was the study of man's use of space and the effects that population density has on behaviour, communication, and social interaction. This includes the study of a person's preferred interpersonal distance, or 'personal space' as it is colloquially referred to. It was found that most people preferred no one other than close friends getting within 4 ft of them. Kade was not most people.
This was felt very keenly when Cira's toes shattered the man's interpersonal wall as if they were dainty little wrecking balls.
Kade gave a soft grunt and a jolt passed through him. He attempted to sit up straighter in his seat, found that this was not physically possible what with his already rigid posture, and then retracted his legs. This only lasted a second before he chastised himself internally, and returned Cira's smile with what he hoped was a friendly look. It was more awkward smirk, unfortunately, but it did soften his usual frown. However, he found that it wasn't in him to look the half-elf in the eyes, opting instead for her left ear, hoping that she wouldn't notice.
It was a pretty nice ear as far as ears go, he thought.
"Ah... sorry. Just... I just don't have much to say. Just a local boy. Nuthin' special. Not like you," referring not just to Cira but to everyone at the table.
"What um... What about you? You're... half elf, right? Where you from?"
That was a reasonable question, right? That was a question that normal people asked other normal people, right? Kade cursed himself but found it hard to get too worked up over this. After all, it wasn't like he was going to stick with these people or anything. As soon as Talia's hospitality ran out everyone would surely go their own way and Kade would be alone again. It was a testament to his introverted ways that he actually found some comfort in that thought.
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Francis leans back in his chair with a yawn. He is short and built like a bull, with a silver chain bound around his head to hold his long dark brown hair out of his eyes. His skin is a dark olive tan. He is wearing a dark green dyed hide armor. He lays his hand over the top of his chest; hidden under his armor is a symbol of Sarenrae.
Francis hums softly to himself as he slices some cheese to put on a piece of bread before eating it. He washes it down with a drink from the mug in front of him, and then looks up at Talia with a smile.
"I could stand for a song or two. Let the good man play!"
Cira notices Kade's discomfort, but decides not to mention it. Instead she chuckles, waving her hand dismissively. "Please. I don't think anyone here would consider themselves 'special.' And if they do, they probably shouldn't." She glances warmly at their companions, then back to Kade.
Leaning forward with a grin, she places her elbows on the table, her chin resting on tented fingers. "To answer your questions though, yes I am a half-elf. I think the ears kind of give that away," she says with a wink. "And I'm from Iadara in Kyonin. Have you heard of it? It's a really beautiful city with a bunch of poncy elves running about." She wrinkles her nose in distaste before continuing.
"What of you? You said you're a local. Have you lived here your whole life?" She shifts in her chair, crossing her legs as she watches him.
"Please. I don't think anyone here would consider themselves 'special.' And if they do, they probably shouldn't." She glances warmly at their companions, then back to Kade.
The dwarf chuckles as he gulps down another swallow of mead. "Aye, lad. I made th' mistake of thinkin' I was special in my younger days. Didn' take too long t' learn where tha' thinkin' gets ya."
Grargath looks down at his empty pitcher and calls out to Talia. "Any chance we can get a refill on th' drinks, lass?"
Marcus pushes back his chair and stands. Taking up his lute, after a few experimental notes, launches into a traditional Taldan ballad. His lute is well worn, slightly battered, but produces a nice sound. Much like his voice.
Then, depending on the feeling from the room he will either sing another traditional song or, if the crowd seems up to it, a bawdy drinking song.
Once finished with his second song he will take a break at the table for a drink.
Hope I'm not too out of tune tonight, I generally perform better with less watery mead. Alcohol really brings out my best
He notes, frowning at his mug.
Well, I'm not complaining about free, mind you
Talia swings by the table, swiftly pouring mead into the empty glasses. "Here you are, master dwarf." She glances at Marcus, already singing and playing, and shrugs. "Fine by me," she says. "But tell your friend I can't be paying for any impromptu entertainment." With that, the innkeeper moves on to other patrons.
The crowd offers weak applause for Marcus, although one patron does offer him a silver piece for his play. Before the bard can sit down, the thunder rumbles nearby, rattling the walls of the inn.
Leaning forward with a grin, she places her elbows on the table, her chin resting on tented fingers. "To answer your questions though, yes I am a half-elf. I think the ears kind of give that away," she says with a wink. "And I'm from Iadara in Kyonin. Have you heard of it? It's a really beautiful city with a bunch of poncy elves running about." She wrinkles her nose in distaste before continuing.
Kade plainly admitted that no, he'd never heard of the place. He had only a vague of idea of the where and hows of Kyonin, let alone its towns and cities. He did find the half-elf's choice of words interesting though.
'Poncy elves'? Guess elves and their kind aren't just one homogeneous group...
It was the first time Kade had heard an elf criticize their own kind. But then, he immediately realized, Cira wasn't all elf. She wasn't entirely 'them'; she was part 'us'. What did those concepts mean to the half-elf? Even with his history, Kade had a very clear idea of where he belonged and what was 'foreign' and 'other' to him. He suddenly realized that a sense of displacement must be a near universal birthright for half-elves. His train of thought on the social politics of half-elves was interrupted by Cira keeping the conversation flowing.
"What of you? You said you're a local. Have you lived here your whole life?"
Kade's artificial smile melted away as his features sank right back to their usual frown. He'd never been any good at pretending. The half-elf's question led straight to a subject matter that Kade had sworn himself to speak openly about for the rest of his life, for that matter. He had to keep up the lie. If not, the past decade of his life would have meant nothing. At worst he would be endangering his friends.
"No," he said, brows furrowed. "I've only just returned. I've been gone for a long time. Prison."
Kade's head spun towards the inn's door as the sound of unusually loud thunder tore through the building. Odd for this time of year, he thought. He wasn't sure if Cira had caught that last part he said due to the boom. He hoped that Marcus would start playing again to drown out any further thunder. Kade had a soft spot for sentimental ballads.
Talia swings by the table, swiftly pouring mead into the empty glasses. "Here you are, master dwarf."
Grargath grunts in approval as he takes another swig of mead, listening to the bard's performance.
"Sounds like a storm's comin' in," the dwarf observes. He cocks his head towards Kade, concern on his face, as he faintly hears the word "Prison" under the loud thunder. "Prison, eh? Wha' landed ya there?"
"Murder."
The two syllables were delivered as flatly as possible.
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"No," he said, brows furrowed. "I've only just returned. I've been gone for a long time. Prison."
"Sounds like a storm's comin' in," the dwarf observes. He cocks his head towards Kade, concern on his face, as he faintly hears the word "Prison" under the loud thunder. "Prison, eh? Wha' landed ya there?"
Francis smiles at Kade. "Our past doesn't have to dictate who we choose to be today. Whether we have been wronged, or we are the ones who have wronged others, who we choose to be in this moment is up to us."
As a sound like thunder shakes the building, Francis winces slightly. "By the Dawnflower, what in the...I swear the sun was shining in a bright cloudless sky when we came in!
Marcus listens to Kades declaration with interest, anything to distract from his rather tepid performance.
At least that's one more silver than I an hour ago
Upon hearing the massive peal of thunder, or, wait, is it thunder?
What the heck is that!?
"Sounds like a storm's comin' in,"
Thunder my foot! That sounded like a landslide!
Marcus rushes from the tavern to see if he can't determine what the great noise was.
"Murder."
The two syllables were delivered as flatly as possible.
Grargath chokes on his mead. "Murder? Aye, tha's-" He pauses for a moment and clears his throat. "Well, I suppose ya did yer time, right? An' they saw fit t' release ya. Ya dinnae have anythin' t' worry about from me, I won' be holdin' it against ya."
Thunder my foot! That sounded like a landslide!
Marcus rushes from the tavern to see if he can't determine what the great noise was.
"Wha' in blazes are ya talkin' about?" Grargath shouts at Marcus as he runs out. "Sounded like thunder t' me."
Cira was about to respond to Kade's confession when she heard the crash outside.
"Wha' in blazes are ya talkin' about?" Grargath shouts at Marcus as he runs out. "Sounded like thunder t' me."
She rose quickly from her seat, following Marcus outside. "No, that definitely sounded like a landslide."
Cira glances quizzically at Marcus, then heads back inside.
"I'm not sure if it was a landslide or not, but something big happened to the north," she says to the group as she takes her seat again. "There's a bunch of dust in the air." She takes a drink of her mead. "We should go see what happened. I'm very curious."
Marcus returns Cira's curious glance.
"Definitely something strange going on, I'm not sure what it could be. Thankfully not a giant wave of mud and rock coming to crush the town" Marcus adds as he returns inside.
I wonder what it could have been, possibly something natural?
He starts gathering his things from the table "I, for one, want to go check out what is going on, might make an interesting tale."
As a precaution he stops by his room quick to grab his longsword and buckler; as well as strapping on his studded armor.
Just in case it is REALLY interesting
Grargath slides out of his chair, hesitating to put his mug down. "Guess th' two o' you were right t' check it out," he concedes. Grargath kept his axe and armor on him, and grabs his shield to take with him outside to investigate with the others.
Kade was taken aback by the reaction to his confession. Where he had expected contempt he instead received, if not acceptance, then tolerance. Grargath was perhaps uncomfortable at the thought, but it seemed like he would leave the matter be as long as his dining companion had served his time. Kade couldn't help but think that this conformed with all the stories he'd heard about dwarfs and their rigid morals. He had always quite liked everything he'd heard about dwarfs, even the yarns aimed at mocking them. He had a quite strict moral system himself.
And young Firestar was immediately ready to offer him kind words of restitution, although this was perhaps less surprising considering that he was a priest of Sarenrae.
Grargath, Cira... You both denied being anything special, but I think you are all far from ordinary.
He was wondering how to formulate a response when both Marcus and Cira confirmed that the thunder heard outside was something far more terrestrial: a landslide. Kade immediately rose. Had it happened within the town? Outside it? Was someone hurt? He had half a mind to run off to check straight away but stopped himself. No, if someone had been buried they would need multiple people. Fortunately his companions were eager to investigate, so Kade was happy to wait for Grargath and Marcus to gather their gear.
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Francis shakes his head. "I hope no one is hurt!" He said with a frown. "At least I am capable of helping anyone who is hurt."
Francis grabs his pack, his morningstar, and his shield and follows the rest of the group outside to investigate the occurrence. As he spots the rising cloud of dust coming from the north. "Dawnflower's Blade! I suppose we ought to go see what that is."
Cira pulls her knapsack over her shoulder, adjusts the small crossbow on her back, and grabs her quarterstaff before following Francis outside. "If there were people around, I can't imagine everyone escaped whatever happened," she said, nodding in the direction of the cloud. "But I hope there's something we can do for them."
She stops in the doorway, glancing back at Kade. "You're coming with us, right?"
Kade took his eyes off the dust cloud to give Cira a nod of assent, brows tightly knit. He was ready to go when they were. Why, exactly, the half-elf felt the need to assure that he was coming was a question for less urgent times. Still, it felt nice be wanted; he had to admit that.
Unless of course she was just making sure she didn't lose sight of a self-admitted murderer. That was an option.
When you arrive, a small crowd has gathered around the plume's source: a mostly collapsed and destroyed tower at the top of a steep hill. Only fragments of the first and second floor still stand. Black stone and wooden debris lie scattered down the southeastern slope. An ancient-looking iron door stands at the ground level and a mound of rubble creates a crude ramp leading up to the second story.
A pair of deputies stand closest to the ruined structure. The first, a woman with stringy blonde hair scratches her head while the other stands with his hands on his hips, chewing a piece of grass. "Well, Varyl," says the woman. "I reckon the Witch Tower finally collapsed."
Varyl doesn't turn to look back at her. "Yep."
"What do you reckon we should do about it?" she asks.
"Dunno, Letha," he says. "I reckon we should fetch the baroness."
A voice calls out from the crowd. "Where's Wizard Hunclay? That's his manor over there. Maybe he knows what happened."
The crowd's attention is directed to the other structure on the hill, an impressive manor built from stone slabs, wooden beams, and slate tiles.
The two deputies look at each other, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of approaching the house or the collapsed tower.
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Francis pats the haft of his morningstar and gives the group a meaningful look. "It may be nothing serious, but we'd better be prepared for anything, even combat." Francis grips he morningstar with one hand and unlatches it from his belt with the other. "If we are going to be facing enemies I'll open with a firebolt if I can. Leave me an opening to strike. He says, the kindness in his eyes replaced with grim purpose. He strides forward purposefully, heading towards the cloud to the north.
"What the heck happened here? I would have never guessed that sound was a collapsing tower" Marcus notes as he approaches the tower with the group.
Turning to the gossiping deputies he asks "Was this tower old and decrepit, ready to fall down at any time?"
He will then examine the ruins from a distance to see if he can see any explanation.
Grargath hurries along, following the others with axe in hand. "By Torag's hammer," he breathes, looking at the remains of the tower. "How did this happen?"
A voice calls out from the crowd. "Where's Wizard Hunclay? That's his manor over there. Maybe he knows what happened."
The dwarf turns to look for the owner of the voice that cried out. "An' none of you saw anythin', I suppose?" He turns back to look at the rubble, also searching for any clues to what might have caused the destruction.
Cira gives a low whistle of surprise as she looks over the large mound of debris, stepping up next to Marcus.
"It doesn't seem like it fell on anyone, at least," she says to no one in particular. She turns towards the guards.
Turning to the gossiping deputies he asks "Was this tower old and decrepit, ready to fall down at any time?"
"Also, was it used for anything? Or abandoned? And since you're just standing there not doing anything, I'm going to assume no one was injured, yes?" She smiles at them, and her tone is polite, but there is a distinct edge to it.
As she waits for their answers, she glances up at the manor that sits atop the hill, now understanding the uncomfortable looks on the guards' faces.
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Francis breathes a sigh of relief as they approach the tower and realize that there are no armies or dragons trying to attack the village. "A collapsed tower eh? I heard someone call it a 'Witch Tower'? Do we need to start digging for a buried spellcaster? Gargath, you know stone better than any of us. Does it look like there's much of a chance someone could have survived a collapse like that?"
"Before the tower fell, I didn't notice the tavern shaking, so I'm not thinking an earthquake is the culprit here, or any kind of storm"
Turning to Kade, Marcus asks:
"You are from around here, are earthquakes or freak windstorms common in this area?"
All Grargath sees in the crowd is a group of excited and anxious faces. Nobody says anything, besides whispers and murmurs too low to hear.
The deputies turn to the party. "The Witch Tower was old for sure," begins Varyl. "But I don't know nothing about it being 'decrepid'. My pappy used to say it had good bones."
Letha addresses Cira. "No, it was abandoned, far as anyone could tell. I think it were a castle, but it's not been used in generations."
"Two hundred years, to be precise." A clear voice cuts through the crowd. The town's baroness, Lady Origena Devy and her son Arnholde, walk through the throng, commoners moving to make way for the nobility. She is a mature beauty, her silvery-blonde hair pinned up and wearing a black and violet dress.
She listens to the deputies for a few moments before turning back to you. "You're the unfortunate souls caught up in that smuggling nonsense, are you not? How would you like a chance to make some money? I'll pay you 500 gold if you enter the ruins and see what caused the collapse. While you're at it, keep an eye out for our local eccentric, Hunclay. I find it suspicious that he hasn't come out to see what all the commotion is."
"My Lady." Marcus bows, recognizing the newcomer as nobility from her dress and bearing.
After hearing her pitch, Marcus eyes the fallen tower dubiously.
That thing looks like a death trap, but dying in there probably would beat out starving... probably. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I just hope it's not haunted on top of falling apart.
"I am no expert in engineering, but I am certainly willing to do what I can. If nothing else your Hunclay may need help." He says.
Turning to the rest of the group, "Will any of you be joining me?"
He then prepares to enter the ruin.
Noticing Marcus' bow, Cira follows his lead, hastily moving to curtsy towards the woman in front of them.
Turning to the rest of the group, "Will any of you be joining me?"
She nods, almost excitedly. "I'll be going with you, of course." She turns to the woman. "But before any of us head off, is there anything you can tell us about ruins or this Hunclay fellow?" She pauses, then quickly adds, "My Lady."
Turning to the rest of the group, "Will any of you be joining me?"
"Aye lad, I'll be joinin' ya!" Grargath comes running up to join Marcus and Cira. "An' I don' think we'll be needin' no wizard fer help," he adds pridefully.
Grargath turns his attention to the baroness. "Is there somethin' about this tower yer not tellin' us, miss?" he asks with a somewhat brash tone.
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Francis looks curiously at the baroness.
He turns to the rest of the group and whispers, 'I'm not sure what is going on, but something is really wrong with the baroness. Keep your eyes open.'
Turning to the rest of the group, "Will any of you be joining me?"
He then prepares to enter the ruin.
"I am with you." Francis said. I have a rope. One of us can climb up with the help of the others, and then let the rope down to help the others.
Sensing his companion's perception of the Lady's uneasiness Marcus decides to voice his own question about the tower.
"I notice folks seem to be nervous about this tower, is there anything additional that would should know about it before we head in. It isn't haunted or anything similar is it? Cursed maybe?"
Turning to Francis, "Yes, that seems like a good plan to me."
To the whole group; "Anyone here have any skill with climbing?"
Lady Origena regards Grargath and sighs. "My fool of a husband died poking around that damnable tower," she says, tersely. "It's silly, but I had come to think of it as his memorial."
She turns to Cira and Marcus. "The tower was once the seat of House Canteclure, lords of Belhaim over two hundred years ago. They rebelled from the Taldan Empire and were crushed for their treachery. The Witch Tower is all that remains of the Canteclures. I don't know what dangers lie beneath the ruins, but something caused that collapse."
Balthus Hunclay is a wizard and a nuisance. He has pestered me for years to tear down the Witch Tower, claiming that it blocked his view of the night sky. I find it very suspicious that he is nowhere to be found now that his favorite gripe is gone."
"You are from around here, are earthquakes or freak windstorms common in this area?"
The older man silently shook his head. No, to his knowledge such things were not common around these parts. The tower had stood here for 200 years after all. It was odd. This tower had been a sign of ill omen for the town for as long as he could remember. Kade could recall being instructed not to play near it as a child by his parents. So why was it only now, looking at its smashed ruin, that he got a bad feeling from it?
The arrival of Lady Devy drew Kade from his thoughts. The baroness of Belhaim; he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her. He'd probably been little more than a boy. She had aged less than he would have imagined. Much like everyone else he gave her and her son a curt bow, back still perfectly straight. He was very much surprised, however, when she turned her attention towards him, or rather the group he now found himself in.
500 gold pieces? Huh. That's 499 more than I have now.
Seeing the rest of the group assent to her suggestion Kade nodded his own agreement when Marcus asked. He could certainly use the money. The speed at which these people consented to putting themselves in harm's way surprised him though. Kade was penniless, without work and had little regard for himself, but these people - he still wasn't sure what made them tick. One thing was for sure: Cira and Grargath's humility could stuff itself. These people were more than normal.
Before going spelunking there was one thing he felt needed to be voiced, however; just for order's sake.
"Should we check up on Hunclay before seeing to the tower? He might know something."
The wizard was probably the most likely to have actually witnessed the tower crumpling. He lived close enough. The practical side of Kade reasoned this to be a fair excuse to see Hunclay first. The more suspicious side of him, the one shaped by years behind bars, speculated whether the wizard was the culprit. A spell caster who had advocated for the tower's destruction was notably absent when it finally lay in ruins? He had motive and maybe even the means...
Lady Origena regards Grargath and sighs. "My fool of a husband died poking around that damnable tower," she says, tersely. "It's silly, but I had come to think of it as his memorial."
The dwarf nods at Lady Origena, willing himself not to press the subject further. He casts a curious glance at the baroness' son, wondering why he's been so silent, but then turns his attention to Kade.
"Should we check up on Hunclay before seeing to the tower? He might know something."
Grargath furrows his brow at this suggestion. "I don' doubt this wizard knows somethin'. But if we don' take our chance t' explore the tower now, wha'ever caused the collapse might not be there t' find anymore." He shrugs, and holsters his axe as the group discusses a course of action.
"Mh. Suppose that's true," Kade conceded and left it at that.
Carrying an argument with Kade Killough had always been a futile endeavor. Not because the man was stubborn, but rather because he thought so little of his own opinion that he usually yielded to any argument. While his convictions were iron clad Kade didn't have enough pride in himself to win any debate. Did getting it their way make people happy? Then he stepped down and let people be happy. Carrying a conversation with Kade was a very affirming, but ultimately fruitless experience.
Besides, he thought, Grargath was probably right. He'd always heard that dwarfs knew masonry better than anyone. Best to listen to him. Was that racist? Kade couldn't tell.
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"We could always split up. Have two go see to the wizard, and three start on the tower." Francis suggests. "He might even be convinced to help us explore the tower. It might bite into our money a bit, but it would surely improve our chances of survival to have a locally established wizard on our side.