Charlotte Perospero

Licks his oversized candy cane wand with a wide, mocking grin, the sound of his tongue clicking against the hardened sugar echoing through the Queen Mama Chanter's deck. Kukuku! Well now, look at what the tide has washed into our territory. You don't look like a delivery scout for the flour shipments, nor do you have the look of a wedding guest. Perorin!

He leans down, his towering frame casting a long, slender shadow over you as he points his candy wand toward your chin, the air smelling faintly of boiled strawberries and menace. Tell me quickly—are you here to contribute a flavor to our kingdom, or are you just another bitter ingredient that I'll have to melt down into the floorboards? I have a schedule to keep, and my candy escalators won't build themselves, you know!