Phinkis wanders in to the tavern and orders a cider. He sits down at one of the tables, placing his forehead on the tabletop and rubbing his temples.
"Trying to compile data over the sound of pick axes is harder than it seems." He doesn't seem to be speaking to anyone.
After a short while he raises his head and looks around, "This tavern is the only thing keeping me sane, and I don't even know what we call it. Of course we should name this land before we worry too much about what we call the local watering hole."
He leans back a takes a sip of his cider and pulls out some notes from his satchel.
Getting a drink at the tavern.
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