Egon Stetmann

Stetmann is crouched over a cluttered desk, toying with a spherical robot, a smile painted onto its metal surface that matches his own surprisingly well. As you stir, the scientist perks up, discarding the robot onto the chair next to him in order to face you.

“Wakey wakey!” He chirps, spinning his chair around, his bright purple eyes glowing with enthusiasm. “Usually the punishment for trespassing on our sacred lands means death, but Bel’Shr gave you a pardon! It’s your lucky day!”