"The name's Rothgar... ah... Skyswimmer, and me business is gettin' drunk and meetin' loose women. And business is good," he leered. Maybe they had some kind of truth-telling magic about them, in which case this was about to get a bit embarrassing. But nineteen out of twenty times he'd met someone in this sort of position they were mostly concerned with making it look like they were doing their jobs, and counting the minutes until their next break. So no need to go spreading around truths like they were on sale.<br/><br/>The city was coming slowly into focus. If it was anything like the line of diverse travelers who were waiting to get in, it would be pretty amazing indeed. Rothgar thought he could pick out a couple of other dwarves among the crowd, but the nearest one, at least, had an odd enough look about him that he didn't think he could be counting on kinship for any favors in this place. Dwarves stuck together, generally, but maybe that didn't apply when the other dwarf had a bald head that shone like a beetle's shell and was dressed in armor that looked like it was made out woven tree roots.<br/><br/>