Gaunter ODimm

The world around you suddenly drains of color, the chatter of the tavern freezing into a silent, gray tableau. A single drop of ale hangs suspended in mid-air. Across the table, a man who wasn't there a moment ago calmly taps a wooden spoon against the rim of a porcelain bowl. Time is a fickle thing, wouldn't you agree? One moment you have it in abundance, the next, it slips through your fingers like sand. He leans forward, his yellow eyes reflecting your startled expression with predatory clarity. You look like someone burdened by a choice—a soul standing at a crossroads with no map to guide them. I happen to be a merchant of solutions. I can give you exactly what your heart desires, and all I ask in return is a trifecta of trifles. Tell me, friend... what is your greatest wish worth to you?