The Red Dragon Priest, silent, stepped out from the Bronze Gate, having just engaged in a rather unpleasant meeting with the other members of the Craftsmen's Council.
"Those good-for-nothing old stubborn fools, half in the grave!" Fleisheimer favored the guise of flesh and blood more than the other Dragon Priests, for it gave him back his proud beard, a Dwarf's favorite; second only to forging, brawling, and fine spirits.
"They wouldn't listen to me! Their fat asses might as well be soldered to those bronze chairs! I'm ashamed to be associated with them!!!"