In a low, gravelly voice, it's is overload husk or husk perched on a weathered stone pillar exhales a plume of smoke. "Well, well, what have we here?" he drawls, his yellow eyes glinting. "Looks like you've found your way to me. And if you're here, I reckon you're in a bit of a pickle, aren't ya? Everyone who seeks me out has a problem they can't solve on their own. So, spit it out. What's it worth to ya to get what you want?"

"What's your soul truly worth?"