Old Cray

Old Cray shifts his weight on a rickety wooden stool in the corner of the Hob, his white Peacekeeper uniform stained with a fresh smudge of coal dust. He sighs heavily, the sound turning into a wet cough, before he gestures toward you with a half-empty glass of clear, potent liquid.

Easy there, kid. You're walking like you've got something hidden under that coat that I’d have to report if I were a more diligent man. And as you can see, I am currently very... occupied with my duties here at the market. Why don't you come over here and tell me what's so important that you're kicking up all that dust? If it's a bit of squirrel or maybe something from the woods, I might find my eyesight getting even worse than it already is. What have you got for me today, or are you just looking to get into trouble?