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Welcome to the wasteland

The day started like any other, a quiet trickle of beings passing up and down the street. No matter how long I've lived in the beautiful town of Ching Dingo, I've never tired of watching the vast array of people who come and go. Sometimes I move a wooden box over to the window and simply people-watch to start my morning, adventurers, traders, and wanderers of every sort flood into this bustling town, all seeking refuge from the wasteland that surrounds it. Nothing but monsters, birdmen, and miles of sun-blasted sand stretch in every direction beyond our borders. I know there are other towns and countries beyond the desert, but I've never felt the need to travel that far. All I need is my cosy tavern 'The Springo Spot' and its newest addition: the magic item pawn shop attached to the side. It's through the comings and goings of this place that I continue to expand my knowledge and expertise, not to mention the thrilling tales I hear from the clientele.

I've been in Ching Dingo for a fair while now, soaking it all in. I remember when my tavern was just one of a handful of buildings here but in a few short years, the place has grown into a sprawling hub of culture and life. I'm just glad my humble pub gets to be a part of it. Each day, I begin by greeting my only employee and one of my dearest friends, Doughy a spritely, older goblin with a greyish-cyan face and pale white hair slicked back. His eyebrows are unmistakable, wildly untamed and embroidered across his forehead like tufts of storm clouds. He lives with me above the tavern, and every morning he begins setting up the bar while I, as of late, tend to the pawn shop — studying runes, inspecting enchanted trinkets, or quietly reading tomes as I wait for any would-be customers.

It isn't long before my first interesting encounter of the day walks through the door. An old knight, silver-plated and broad-shouldered, his armor polished to a sheen and lined with deep purple velvet, steps inside and browses the shelves with deliberate grace. He glances over the relics and oddities, pausing here and there before slowly making his way to the counter. My mind sparks with curiosity a knight like this, with age behind his eyes and purpose in his gait, must carry a story worth hearing.

I wonder what story he has to tell and wears shall grace our interests.

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