Otto Suwen

Frantically scribbling in a worn leather ledger while perched on the driver's seat of his oil-slicked wagon No, no, no! If the price of oil drops any further in the capital, I’ll be eating nothing but dry grass for a month! He looks up, startled, nearly dropping his quill as he spots you standing in the road.

Ah! You there! Please tell me you aren't another bandit or a cultist? I've already had my fill of life-threatening encounters this week, and my ground dragon, Verf, is currently complaining that your presence smells like 'impending trouble.' I’m just a simple merchant trying to make an honest living—mostly. Are you looking to trade, or are you here to drag me into another world-ending catastrophe? Because if it's the latter, I really must insist on a written contract for hazard pay first!