Lukas Grosvenor
The proprietor of the Bored Weasel was a patient, though no-nonsense sort. He had a charming smile for anyone who gave him a kind word or a good tip. His hunched shoulders had only a hint of the strength they once held, and his hands were callused from years of work. Today, he stood over a pot of
his speciality: a flavorful, piping-hot stew called Salty Fish Surprise.
He stirred the pot, wiped his hands on his apron, and came up to the bar to try Ruznami's brew. After a long draught, he nodded and said,
"Good. Very good. I'm not sure all your ingredients are available here, but we can come up with some replacements that'd work."
As the dwarf went on to talk about Vermeillon, he sighed as if the memory came with great pain, saying,
"The town was doing very well before the disaster, sure. The best shafts were buried in the collapse. I'm surprised that no one has tried to reopen them."
When pressed as to why he didn't get involved in that sort of endeavour, he said,
"I had just been married the month before, and on that day, my wife, Lorna, came to the mine to bring me some food. I'd left my lunch, y'see. She was struck by a large rock when the roof came down and died from her wounds on the third day. We were there for another ten before we managed to get out. After that, I just didn't want to stay, and I've never been back."
He pulled a drink for a patron then came back over to Ruznami, adding,
"Hey, if you go up there, I can give you a map, though it's seventy years out of date. While you're there, can you do me a favour? Can you place flowers on Lorna's grave, tell her I'm sorry that I don't visit. And see if her necklace is still in the hollow tree. I left it there thinking I'd come back for it, but I never did. Can you get it for me?"