[b]Davanteaux, Underdeep[/b]

As Davanteaux daintily picked at his third hearty Dwarven meal, he elaborated on his impressions of the city to several intent listeners, “I've met many men in this city thus far, and not once have I met a person too weak or childish to manage their own destinies. I was struck by one such man earlier: a merchant. His eyes were hard but wise, and his stock was at once carefully chosen yet highly diverse. Clearly a man of tact, honor, and discipline. Though his life experience had taught him to never trust those of my kind; even today a dastardly elven thief attempted to wriggle from him more than he was owed, he welcomed me with the hospitality reserved by Dwarven kind to all visitors. I was inspired to leave him with a song for his progeny to carry his legacy for the coming generations. While Lords and Kings who inherit their titles and use them to take from you, the true backbone of this city, this man who like yourselves is what has preserved Underdeep is such numbers for this long. I now wear these rings and bangles bestowed onto me by this magnanimous representative with pride.”

Beaming, one listener demanded “Tell me Davanteaux, what is the name of he who is surely the finest merchant in Underdeep?”

Davanteaux lifted his hand to deflect the question while he finished what was left of his ale, then responded “I needn't name him, for I expect that any of you would have had such presence and mercy. I named him representative not because I believe he was the best of you, but because I believe that any man who lives and works in this city is his equal!”

His words were met with a cheer from his immediate listeners that picked up through the rest of the pub. He stood suddenly, pulling the horn from his pack in a deft motion, “A song! A song for every dwarf in this city that through the sweat of his brow brings ever more value to the lives of all: to the miners, the merchants, the barmen, the cleaners, the washers, the engineers, and the builders!” Another cheer was soon met with powerful chords that resonated with their hearts. Slow and strong, it was a folk song that they recognized and began to sing along to, slamming their steins and fists into the tables with the beat. Taking on a new significance, they sang of a man who single-handedly built a tower. To them, he was no longer a fantastical figure that deserved to lead them, but evocative of their own capabilities. He had truly captured their hearts, altered their minds, and changed their destinies. Each of them would go on and spread their new attitudes further. Maybe the new trend in the population would inspire some new philosophy, but he knew he couldn't hope for that. The next few steps on that path would have to be taken with the full knowledge that they were necessary. 

After he finished the song and sat down to finish his meal, one dwarf spoke to him in confidence, “You said the time before Worldbane was dominated by the oppressors of all races, but what of our own Dain Lionbeard?”

Davanteaux reflected that this step of the process had come a bit early. He leaned over and whispered back, “It is for the Dwarves to determine whether their leaders are oppressors. By their nature, oppressors are weak and alone, using their will to undermine the strong such as yourself. It is only an illusion. If it is found that you are led by an oppressor, there is little that one weak and deranged man can do against thousands of the strong and pure-hearted. Once the veil has been pulled from all eyes, all may judge Lionbeard as the man he truly is, fair or false, then the people may take the action they feel is justified.”

With that, Davanteaux finished his meal and got up to leave, shouting positive words to the patrons upon his exit. One off-handedly inquired as to his business in Underdeep, to which he responded “ Next I shall meet with Dain Lionbeard.” His claim was met with a variety of responses ranging from shock to grins from those that heard it.
That had been the most receptive pub, as in the other two he had met with only mild success. The merchant he had met first was easily the most enthusiastic, showering him with gifts for his travels. For the last century, this was by far the most ambitious project he had taken on. He wondered as to how long he might have carried on like this before an order was sent for his execution, publicly or privately. The dwarves that he spoke to would no longer be nearly as subservient. The ideas would have their time to stew while he was sent away on a quest which, regardless of outcome, would greatly increase his credibility in the city.

As he approached the castle Davanteaux was put slightly on guard as he was stopped by one of the castle guards, “We are certainly hurting for recruits, but there's no way a bard is going to live two days out there with what we're planning on.”

Davanteaux smiled and introduced himself, “I thank you for your concerns, but I am no ordinary bard. I am Davanteaux.”

The guard stared at him for a moment incredulously, “You? I suppose next you'll tell me you're a thousand years old and personally killed the old King of Men?”

Davanteaux let out a short disarming chuckle, “Something like that. If you please.” he gave a short bow and walked past them into the entrance hall.

Entering Mustering Hall, he noticed several of the inhabitants' look of surprise and amusement at a tiny well-dressed Elven bard enter the hall among a group that was equipped for war. An orc, a half-giant, a few humans, and a fellow elf of the wood variety. Noting the quiet, he stood in a central position and spoke boldly to the group, “Any apprehension I may have had before has dissipated, as a truer band of adventurers has surely never been. I will be pleased to make each of your acquaintances. First, allow me to commemorate this occasion.” With that, he pulled his lyre and started to play. The song was slow enough to relax its listeners while they waited, but contained a few progressions of encouragement.