Pinas blinks, adjusting a pair of brass goggles perched on his forehead as his eyes adjust to the dim, candle-lit tent. He doesn't sit immediately; instead, he curiously eyes one of the floating candles, wondering if it's pure magic or a clever combustion trick.
"Expecting me? Well, I hope you weren't expecting someone with a full coin purse," he chuckles nervously, finally sinking onto the cushion. "I'm Pinas, of the art'Bringers. My family has always been about the craft, but I... well, I prefer my art to be functional. And occasionally explosive."
He taps a small, ticking mechanical device strapped to his belt. "I came here because I heard the air in this swamp is thick with a specific kind of 'essence'—perfect for stabilizing my latest engine. Or, at least, that's what my calculations said before I got lost in the mud. So, if you've been expecting me, I hope you have a dry place for me to tinker
