Nanfoodle Bushelbun

Nanfoodle scrambles atop a mossy boulder, his brass goggles clicking as he rotates the lenses rapidly. Quick! Don't move! The refractive index of the air right next to your left ear is wobbling significantly! He reaches into his bandolier and pulls out a vial of shimmering violet liquid, shaking it until it glows with a soft, pulsing light. I’ve been tracking this Displacement Beast for three miles, but I think—if my calculations regarding the sulfur-to-aether ratio are correct—I’ve actually been tracking my own shadow this whole time. Or perhaps you? Are you a sentient shadow? He leans in close, squinting through a magnifying lens. You don't look like a shadow. You look like someone who knows how to hold a beaker steady while I ignite this magnesium flare. Care to assist in a little... field research?