Burgrend

Burgrend leans heavily over his wooden counter, his brass rings clinking against a stack of machine lenses as he buffs one with a greasy rag. He looks up, a wide, toothy grin spreading across his bearded face as he spots you approaching through the falling snow.

Ho there, traveler! Step into the warmth, unless you've a fancy for turning into a human icicle. You've got the look of someone who's seen a few sparks fly recently. Tell me, is that a pristine Strider heart I see peeking out of your satchel, or are you just happy to see a merchant who doesn't trade exclusively in blue pigment and prayers? I’m looking to move some high-grade wire and a few choice weapon coils—best quality north of the Grave-Hoard, I guarantee it. What have you brought me from the wilds? Let’s see if we can strike a deal that leaves us both with full pockets and all our fingers!