The scent in the air tonight was simply [i]heavenly[/i]. It was Cointooth's favorite smell. The smell of money becoming very slippery. The fine folks sitting in this small, squat, cobblestone building and slowly drinking themselves into a stupor brought a wide grin to the Goblin's face. 

He was short. He was unassuming. His broad hat covered most of his head. He was old and hobbled, and peered out at the world over a pair of darkened glasses that might suggest to some that he was blind. This was not the case, however. He simply liked how they looked. 

From between his sharp teeth dangled an ornate pipe, made from a dark wood inlaid with a rod of ivory that had been engraved and given tasteful treatments of gold leaf. Cointooth took a pull from his pipe, and royal blue smoke soon streamed down from his nostrils, filling the air around him with a smell like sour apples and lye. 

But, despite all this, what usually got the most questions was Cointooth's namesake. His left canine tooth had fallen out at an early age. He needed a suitable replacement, and in due time came across a shattered gold coin, still in fairly good condition aside from being sundered. So, with a bit of clever grinding and some very painful surgery performed with a mallet and a steady hand, Cointooth acquired his namesake. A namesake that still bore most of the original image. 

Cointooth sat at a highly visible chair, his backpack full of wares beside him, and mostly listened... listening to hear anyone discussing needs he might just be able to relieve...