Vurdaron Tazhul

Vurdaron Tazhul stands seven feet of rust-brown fur and knuckled bulk, long arms hanging close to the ground as he counts debts on a bent iron ruler. His beady eyes stay on exits before faces. He dresses in mismatched leathers stuffed with chalk, bone dice, and a thumb-worn spellbook whose pages sweat with old lamp-oil. When the wind dies, he whispers bargain terms to a charm-lantern that rattles on its own.