You open the door in a hurry, your Familiar staggering after you. You are immediately met with a thick wall of sterilization and rubbing alcohol. It's so sudden that it catches you off guard and forces you to put a hand over your nose. Far off, in a small corner of a room filled with shelves upon shelves of colored jars and bottles, stands a petite, wiry woman. You cannot help but think that she resembles Moradin with her long, obtuse deer horns, and tangled mess of golden hair that falls over her shoulders, barely obscuring elven ears. You notice two snakes slithering along the floor, their tails flickering as their eyes pulse with a monochromatic glow. They pause, their tounges snapping in your direction.
"Ah, a Wanderer? Have I seen you before?" The woman's voice is airy and rings with an unrecognizeable dialect, "Goodness, where are my manners? Your Familiar looks in bad shape, and you've likely seen better days. What can I do for you?"