[b]Ekusha[/b] departed for the human territories in an effort to begin her mission. She didn't see the need to explore the entirety of the nation if the goal was to clear out this particular outpost. [color=teal][i]Better to localize.[/i][/color] So, she explored several villages, probing the minds of its inhabitants, looking for any outstanding attitudes or any piece of information that would be revealing of the dwarves. 

Humans have always been one of the more xenophobic species, exemplified when it came towards their own kind. Ethnic cleansing, racial stereotyping, and fear mongering were concepts they whole-heartedly embraced, but it allowed them to survive through their clannishness. However, when it came to the other inhabitants that threatened their survival, humans banded together, whether it be temporary or permanent integration, to fight off their common foe in the name of [i]humanity[/i]. In the countryside nearing the dwarven outpost, dwarves were thought of as almost plebian in comparison to them, suspected to be dust-covered cave-dwellers who collected stones and what few metals the mountains provided for an unmoving economy merely composed of shiny objects to stare at.

One perpetrator of this mindset was [b]Tushratta[/b], born to a farming family although he found himself employed as a furniture craftsman. When [b]Ekusha[/b] found him, he was chatting with a bartender outside the local tavern, one he apparently frequented throughout his adult life. Tushratta was in his 30's, fairly charismatic and liked by his people. He indulged moderately, and often expressed himself overbearingly. He gained somewhat of a following with his words, stirring up the minds of humble drunks and working men. A politician in his own right, Tushratta was indeed a hometown hero in the making.

Rhetoric in the town was fairly anti-dwarven, belittling them to the point of mere animals. Views placed upon them were lowly, and Tushratta must have had the most openly intolerant view of all, constantly refering to them as [i]cave weasels[/i] and insinuating they fed on the rocks they tore. Anyone around seemed to eat up his words, in a way covering their insecurities of this alien society that lay so proximal to their village. His words comforted them, and fed their egos. They did not have to feel threatened, rather they should feel powerful: they could easily crush any opposition to their livelihood, especially one coming from a bunch of filth-covered [i]cave-dwellers[/i].

[b]Ekusha[/b] saw it: [b]Tushratta[/b] had the hicks of this countryside in the palms of his hands. He inspired them, gave them hope, a feel-good conversation they could look forward to at the end of their miserable days of essential serfdom. He was a working man, but more-so a farmer-turned-artisan. He knew their labors, and he had already legitimized himself before these simple-minded country folk who knew little outside of their own village.

[color=teal][i]Take them.[/i][/color]

[b]Tushratta[/b] smiled as he looked around the tavern, already feeling a bit of buzz from the alcohol. [color=khaki][b]"I say we pay a visit to that little dwarf colony."[/b][/color] Others in the room were a bit puzzled. It's always been all-talk with them, mere venting. Talk of action was rare, but it seemed welcome to the frustrated. [color=khaki][b]"They're up in those mountains, probably looking down on us, and for what? We let them set up shop for a while, but they've been spoiled. We've left them alone while they bleed those caves dry."[/b][/color] 

[color=moccasin][b]"What do you suppose we do, Tush?"[/b][/color]

[color=teal][i]Go add some color to your mundane life, hick.[/i][/color]

[color=khaki][b]"Just remind them who's boss around these parts."[/b][/color]