makin' shit up as I go along

Artisan was taking his newfound freedom (and time between the next raid) seriously, deep at the bottom of a ravine, digging in the mud, and occasionally sipping from a nearby jar of rum. He'd come down here to collect some materials to make his next few beads - a matter that was pressing, as he was piling up on new friends faster then he'd been producing their charms. The mud along the river was hot to the touch where it had not been cooled by shade, and he peered out from the ravine into the scorching sun above as if to make the connection. The water moved swiftly through the underground river, and Artisan dangled his paws over the edge to let the force of the flow wash from him the caked mud and clay.

"Speech"