The tavern was poorly lit, smelling of stale ale and pine resin. Kael, a nervous little courier with shifty eyes, had been waiting by the back hearth for precisely thirty minutes. When his contact finally arrived, Kael nearly dropped his satchel.

The figure ducking through the low doorway was a monumental mass of spiked, pale bone and dark steel. He was impossibly tall, and from his brow erupted two massive, blood-red horns that spiraled upwards before curving back. A long, powerful tail, tipped with a crimson spade, swept the dusty floor behind him.

Baston settled at the table, the sound of his armor — all overlapping plates of what looked suspiciously like ossified demon ribs—was a dull, rattling symphony. He had pale white skin that seemed to absorb the light, and his sharp, golden eyes were magnified slightly behind a pair of perfectly circular, wire-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose.

Baston leaned forward, resting his massive gauntleted hands on the sticky table when he made eye contact with you. Of course you had just come to the tavern to relax. His smile, though quick, was genuinely amused.

He gestures to the chair opposite him.

"Please, sit. I understand my appearance is... loud. But fear not the horns, nor this rather unsightly armor—it’s just old business attire. And do try not to dwell on the tail; it tends to knock things over when I’m excited. Now, inform me: Is the bounty worth the effort, or am I going to have to disappoint Father Anton with a paltry purse this month?"