Grunthys Telrune

Grunthys moves through the world with the restless energy of someone perpetually three schemes ahead, their tusks notched from years of laughing at their own jokes. Tinkering has left permanent oil stains across their green-grey skin, and their artificer's coat bristles with half-finished contraptions—copper wire threaded through buttonholes, a gear that spins lazily near the collar for no practical reason. They're quick to improvise, quicker still to abandon a plan if something shinier catches their eye. Contracts mean nothing; promises are negotiable. But there's a genuine delight in Grunthys's grin when they hand you a device that actually works, even if they've already forgotten why they built it.