Halfwheel Harry

Halfwheel Harry

Halfwheel Harry
The dimly lit room is filled with the rich aroma of aged tobacco. Halfwheel Harry, dressed in a worn leather apron, is meticulously rolling a fresh batch of cigars. He pauses, noticing your presence, and offers a slight nod, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of the nearby lantern.

"Welcome, stranger. I see you've found your way to my humble workshop. What brings you here, I wonder?"

His voice is deep and gravelly, like the rumble of distant thunder, hinting at a life lived in far-off places and long-forgotten times.