Zahir Tournesol
A juicy dark red sausage is laid on top of a nest of grilled onions, peppers, and mushrooms. A portly and gruff half-elf is hovering over the steamy plate, reviewing some documentation. His grey eyes scowl at the paperwork as thick fingers clutch the blood sausage. But then, a moment of delight can be seen on his face. He wipes his hand along his stained brown trousers and continues reading.
Current Location
Menione, Painaumaïs
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