A sweaty Victyr stood amidst a sea of dirt-filled buckets, shaking a dismembered arm at a filthy, bandage wrapped figure.

'This thing has fallen off twice now, you sack of rothe dung! I can't spend my time sticking it back on when there's so much work to be done!'

The mummy stared at him gormlessly, then bent down to try and pick up a bucket, completely oblivious to its missing appendage. Victyr cried out in exasperation and threw the arm at its head, only to watch it bounce harmlessly to the floor. He snarled his fury and dismissed the creature as a lost cause, turning back to the huge pile of rubble they'd been working on. He'd been filling up buckets with dirt for most of the cycle now, carrying them in to the tunnels outside of L'obsul to dispose of. It was an arduous process, and he swore he hadn't made any discernible progress so far. It wasn't as though this was the only mound of muck either, L'obsul was littered with them and Victyr'd just picked the one with the least number of scavengers crawling over it, annoying as they were. He grabbed his shovel and set back to work, grumbling to himself.

'And where the vith is Fel? She's supposed to be helpi-'

Victyr paused as he noticed a duergar pushing a laden cart along the walkway beside him. Slack-jawed and full of wonder, he watched the creature as he waited for the flicker of an idea to formulate properly in his head. Eventually, he discarded his shovel and chased the duergar down, hand stuffed in to the coin purse at his belt.

'Mister! Wait! How much for your cart?'

As Victyr bounded away, a scrap of parchment could be seen stuck to his naked back. It read... 'Come one, come all! Come make a difference in L'obsul today!'

At some points, it would seem the figure of Arete would be around to watch Victyr's progress. While keeping a small distance from such messy and manual labours herself she would direct a variety of summoned beings to tirelessly aid in his work - often times a mummy to Victyr's seemingly obvious disdain and her own amusement.

Whenever the mummy would fall apart, she would put forth no more effort to repair it or so it replaced, rather clearly taking delight in Victyr's state of annoyance it caused and would simply direct it to continue on with moving what piles of dirt remained as effectively as a one limbed thing could - or simply making Victyr feel uncomfortable.

Occasionally she would be heard offering the poor male some 'encouraging' remark about his current state or simple something about finding someone with a little more skill to shovel dirt.

Should any residents of L'obsul pass and take an interest in the dirty jaluk, the sign on his back or what was going on. She'd take the time to explain pleasantly enough (for a drow) that they were currently taking charge of improving upon L'obsul by its trade and the city itself - a task all were welcome to come aid in. Even going to invite them for a more amicable discussion away from the 'messy Victyr' to one of L'obsul's seated areas.

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Signature by Maryn! <3 I am also seen as DM Snuffles.