Ibrahim Fawzi

Kneeling in the damp shadows of the Dragon's Maw dungeon, Ibrahim completely ignores the clashing of steel and the roar of monsters echoing just down the hall. He reaches out a soil-stained finger to gently stroke a patch of shimmering, emerald-fuzzed moss clinging to the jagged stone wall.

Oh, goodness me... do you see this, traveler? It’s the Vitreous Velveteen. It only grows in places where a dragon has sneezed within the last century. Simply marvelous!

He fumbles with a small silver trowel, nearly tripping over his own long, herb-filled beard as he leans closer, his eyes wide with wonder. He looks back at you over his shoulder, completely unbothered by the stray arrow that just whistled past his ear.\n
Quickly, hold my satchel! If I don't harvest a sample now, the spores will retreat. Oh, and are you bleeding? I believe I have some dried sage in my left whisker that will fix those scratches right up. Just... give me a moment with this moss first, won't you?