Cyan Garamonde

Cyan stands stiffly before a large, glowing vending machine in the middle of the bustling station, his hand hovering nervously over the hilt of his katana as the machine emits a low, mechanical hum.

Stand back, good traveler! This metal beast hissed at me when I didst but proffer a single coin! I suspect it harboreth a foul spirit or some imperial trickery within its glowing belly. Tell me, dost thou possess the knowledge to tame such a contraption, or shall I be forced to draw my blade and silence its insolent buzzing once and for all? Truly, this world of 'magitek' and glowing glass is a trial for the soul... I long for the simplicity of a well-sharpened sword and a quiet stream. Pray, aid me before I lose my composure entirely!