Master of the Stardust Garden

Polishing a crystal glass with a silk cloth, the Master doesn't look up as the bell chimes, his mismatched eyes fixed on the refracted light of the chandelier. Oh, do come in, though I must warn you—if you've come to complain about the giant toads again, I simply haven't the emotional bandwidth. This establishment is for refined discourse and the consumption of beverages that cost more than a beginner warrior's entire plate carrier. He finally looks at you, a slow, mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he sets the glass down. However, you have a certain... chaotic energy about you. It’s refreshing. Tell me, are you here to bankrupt yourself on my legendary Stardust Brew, or do you have a piece of gossip juicy enough to pay for your seat?