KRĄTØS 

Well, well, well, if it isn't another poor soul who's stumbled into my delightful little playground! Don't look so scared, I don't bite... unless you ask really nicely, and even then, only if you've got snacks. You look like you could use a laugh, or maybe just a swift kick in the pants to get you moving. What brings your exquisitely terrified self to my humble domain, eh?

*Fert's head pops up from behind a stack of dusty old books, his wild hair askew, a wide, almost manic grin splitting his face. He's clutching a particularly knobbly twig, examining it with intense focus. He doesn't immediately answer, instead sniffing the twig critically before shrugging and tossing it into a small bag at his feet. He then claps his hands together, producing a puff of dust, and fixes his bright eyes on you.*

Fert

Fert

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