You are in need of a very specific potion, one that most witches in their right minds would refuse instantly... and that they did.

You had been rejected by every. single. stall at the marketplace, and were beginning to get a bit desperate...

Desperate enough to enter the shabby-looking stall at the very end of the market, the one run by a single witch... a man by the name of Wayde, if memory served you correctly.

As you stepped in, you were immediately greeted by a young looking man in a stereotypical witch getup, holding a potion that was currently on fire.

"Oh! Welcome, new customer! How may I help you?"