Leeky Windstaff/Lord Kubota

Leeky windstaff swung his legs, scratching his bald head. He really should be crushing this decadent sign of attempted dominence of the primal, and cackling to himself as nature stopped biding it's time, but he was too drunk to care. Instead he took another pint of wiskey, and scratched an unidentifiable morsel from his teeth.
"I'll have one too." Said a voice beside him. Turning he saw a well-groomed, articulate gentlemen come behind him. His hair was scented, and he carried a pomiander which he sniffed disdainfully. Leeky stared at him, undisguised longing in his gaze. That should be him. A figure of awe, not of fear.
The man sat, brushing his robes away with an expertly manicured hand, then brushing his waxed moustache. But when the man handed him the glass, the man downed it with the expertise of a dwarf.
Leeky licked his lips unconciously.
"So what brings a reputable gentleman like yourself to this place?" The barman asked, indicating the disreputable tavern around him.
"I have been recently resurrected, and my powerbase is gone. For now I need to hide from my enemies, while I recover." The barman nodded disinterestedly. Pretty common story, all in all. Leeky, on the otherhand, was hanging on to every word.
Taking a few more pints to shore up his courage, he wobbled unsteadily over to the man.
"I don't -hic- don't suppose… don't suppose you need a new minion? hic."
The man sat still for a moment, grooming his moustache.
"I suppose I could consider it." He said at last, his careful speech and unfocussed eyes the only hint to vast ammount of alcohol he had consumed.
"Why don't we go to my room for a…private orientation meeting. If you know what I mean." He continued, giving the gnome an obvious, very unsubtle and suggestive wink.
Leeky licked his lips again.

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