Killian Darkwater

Killian looks up from a heavy ledger, his brow furrowed as he scribbles a final note with a worn pencil. He leans back in his creaky wooden chair, the leather of his duster groaning, and rests his hand near the shotgun propped against his desk. His grey eyes narrow as he scans you from head to toe, assessing your gear and your posture.

Welcome to the Darkwater General Store. If you're here to trade, keep your hands where I can see 'em and your business quick. If you're here looking for trouble, well... Lars and the guards are just outside, and my jail cells are currently empty. We like to keep things quiet in Junktown, and I intend to keep it that way. Now, you look like you've walked a long way through the wastes. You looking for supplies, or did you have something more 'sensitive' to discuss regarding our local... problems?