Dave is a broad-shouldered male dwarf with a copper-red beard braided around small brass rings. His nose has been broken twice, his cheeks are weathered from years of tavern roads, and his lively hazel eyes always seem to be measuring a room for its best acoustics. He wears patched leather armor beneath a flamboyant blue-and-gold performer’s coat, sturdy travel boots, and a battered lute decorated with old festival ribbons.

Dave is exuberant, warm-hearted, and impossible to keep quiet for long. He treats strangers like a potential audience and old enemies like people who have not yet heard the right song. Beneath his boisterous confidence is a thoughtful observer who notices who is being ignored, who is being cheated, and who is pretending not to be afraid.

Dave was born in a mining settlement where every shift ended with a song. His kin sang to keep time in the deep roads, to mourn the dead, and to mock the foreman when the ale ran thin. Dave discovered early that he had a talent for turning grumbles into laughter. He traded hammer lessons for music lessons, learned the lute from a traveling human troupe, and soon became the settlement’s unofficial master of ceremonies, announcing weddings, wakes, brawls, and once, an extremely ill-advised poetry contest between two rival clans. When a cave-in claimed the mine and left several families in debt, Dave refused to let despair become the settlement’s final song. He took to the road as a performer, earning coin, favors, and information wherever he went. Beneath the jokes and theatrical bows, he searches for evidence that the collapse was engineered by someone who profited from the disaster. Dave adventures because every road offers another audience, another chance to help people who have been overlooked, and perhaps another clue to the truth buried beneath his home.