"Someone was looking for you," a drunk, muscular man applying some paint to his fingernails says to Belmarniss as she walks by. "Drow girl."
"I probably wouldn't be doing it if any of the other ways to become a god were straightforwardly accessible at level five."
"I've been looking forward to retirement. But - maybe we can warn Andoran or whoever about the war, first."
"It's not that it wouldn't be nice. In theory. If the world were completely different. Which I hear you're working on."
"I am and I will be delighted to have your assistance. I will put 'invent Cure Reputational Wounds' on here -" She flips notebook pages.
"Really doesn't matter. I'm not going to show up in Sothis and pick out a girl even if everyone there thinks I'm Aroden reborn. I don't - want to live there."
"I guess those don't affect me. Or are actively nice for those of us who can't see in the dark and don't eat...mushrooms? Scorpions?"
"Humans eat all kinds of weird things sometimes, but I wouldn't want 'em as staples."
"It doesn't taste like much, honestly, it's just easy to grow and decently high calorie for a mushroom."
"No light. The slaves need light to work by but the mushrooms have no such requirements. They grow in compost and nightsoil."