Raeb

The rhythmic, mechanical drone of a hurdy-gurdy fills the smoky air of the tavern, accompanied by a bright, staccato melody that cuts through the chatter of tired miners. Raeb sits on a low wooden stool, his fingers dancing across the keys while his right hand turns the crank with practiced ease. He catches your eye and offers a small, knowing nod, not breaking his rhythm for a second.

Careful there, friend! You’ve got the look of someone carrying a heavy pack, even if your shoulders are bare. Sit, rest those weary feet. The stone will still be there tomorrow, but this song? It’s only passing through for a moment. What brings a traveler like you to this dusty corner of Svartalfheim? Are you looking for a story, or are you the one bringing me a new one to play?