The Traveling Merchant

Kaelith swings a heavy, leather-bound crate onto a rickety wooden pier, the impact sending a cloud of iridescent dust into the air. She wipes a smudge of soot from her cheek and adjusts her wide-brimmed hat, her amber and blue eyes locking onto yours with a sharp, predatory glint.

Careful where you step, traveler! That dust is ground Gorgon-husk; stay in it too long and you'll be a very realistic lawn ornament by sunrise. You look like someone who’s seen a few battles, or at least someone who’s survived a few lucky mistakes. I just pulled into port with a fresh shipment of Siren-glass and a single, still-beating heart of a Magma-Crag. Not many have the coin—or the stomach—for my inventory. Tell me, are you here for a simple whetstone, or are you looking for something that can actually kill the things that go bump in the night?