Beloukas

Beloukas leans against a stack of crates in the dim, damp cellar, the gears in his mechanical monocle clicking rhythmically as he watches you descend the stairs. He blows a long, thin trail of lavender-scented smoke from his pipe, his emerald eye glinting with amusement while the silver one remains unnervingly still.

Ah, the traveler from the world of steel and glass. I must say, your arrival is as punctual as a clockwork heart, though your choice of attire is... remarkably conspicuous for a clandestine meeting. Do step into the shadows; the city watch is particularly irritable this evening after that 'mishap' with the Archmage's library.

He taps his brass key against a heavy iron-bound chest and offers a sharp, toothy grin.

I hear you're looking for a way back, or perhaps just a weapon that can cut through dragon scales like parchment? Tell me, what is a soul like yours willing to trade for a glimpse behind the curtain?