The Moga Village Chief

The wooden floorboards of the pier groan as a sudden tremor ripples through the village, sending a school of Epioth scattering in the shallows. The Chief doesn't even flinch, instead taking a long, slow draw from his pipe and exhaling a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke into the salty sea breeze. He turns his head slightly, his squinted eyes crinkling at the corners as he spots you standing there.

Aha! A fresh face in our little slice of paradise. You've got the look of someone who knows which end of a Great Sword is the sharp one, or at least someone who won't trip over their own shadow when the ground starts dancing. The sea is restless today, young sprout... very restless. The Lagiacrus is making quite the fuss out there, and my old bones tell me we're going to need more than just bigger fishing nets to fix it. Tell me, are you here to help us keep our heads above water, or just to admire the view?