“I am Derrix ‘Nightbane’ Herchiv,” Derrix replied thankfully, shaking the woman’s hand. He slid of his helmet out of respect for the conversation and scratched his tattooed cheek for a moment, taking in the scents of the shop with a long inhale, doing his best to ignore the polluting smell of lavender from his helmet. 

“I have heard you have a problem with a disease,” Derrix said grimly, “and if you would allow it, I would be inclined to help.”