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Your tower rises slowly but surely.
Sitting at the summit of Sunpeak Mountain, it will eventually extend for another hundred feet or so beyond the peak and into the Sky. Your own quarters will be right at the top once it has been complete, with all the amenities that a wizard of your stature could desire. Including a certain secret room with a very special window that allows you to see outside but will never permit anyone to see what lies within, which shall house numerous amusing devices crafted to your exacting specifications.
That, however, is a long ways off from now. The basement and the ground floor have barely been erected, the masonry having only just gone up around the frame work. The adamantine frame has been fully assemble for the tower, but the sheathing of marble, lapis lazuli, and orichalcum has yet to even arrive from the craftsmen.
You have a fresco of sorts planned for the exterior. The sheathing took quite some time to fully design with that grumpy old potato from the undermount, but you landed on a depiction of <span class="mu-i">The Tale of St. John of Arc</span>, the story of a famed Skeletal Champion who fought against a cruel slaver queen and liberated the people.
In life, a common man-at-arms.
In death, a heroic paladin who fought for the people.
Raising a skeleton like him is the dream of every good necromancer. Unfortunately, while you've a number of more intelligent bone boys among your undead retinue, you've yet to find yourself a corpse that rose as a proper Skeletal Champion. Nor do you exactly have the funds to <span class="mu-i">arm</span> such a champion if you raised one, having poured more or less every coin you had in reserve towards the construction of your tower.
Your stomach rumbles in complaint. The <span class="mu-i">Ring of Sustenance</span> upon your finger will let you get by without eating more or less indefinitely, but it won't stop your tummy from complaining about it from time to time. You're not a cleric who can simply conjure a bland loaf of bread and a pitcher of watered down wine, either; and nor would you <span class="mu-i">want</span> to eat the blandness that is conjured food.
The undermount would have good restaurants to buy something from, if you were willing to put up with the damned potatoes.
Dwarven artism extends to <span class="mu-i">all</span> of their crafts, making their chefs some of the finest in the world. Commanding the price of some of the finest chefs in the world. You can see how this might be a problem for someone who just emptied her savings to pay for the materials to construct a resplendent wizard's tower. While you can afford a meal or two for now...
You need to find some work.
>Time to break out the old Adventurer's Guild card and see what needs killing.
>You can gather ingredients and make some potions to sell for a decent profit.
>There might be some farmers who would pay to have skeletons help with the harvest.
>You'd need to hide your identity, but... working at a gentlemen's club could be fun...
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