“The shop is called The Red Kettle General Store, a narrow two-story building whose ground floor smells of cedar, lamp oil, dried herbs, and rain-soaked wool. Every wall is crowded with useful merchandise: coils of rope hang from ceiling beams, pots and pans gleam above barrels of grain, and adventuring supplies are arranged in labeled wooden cubbies. A brass kettle hangs over the front counter and gives a faint whistle whenever the front door opens, though the owner insists it is only settling metal. The floorboards creak in three predictable places, which regular customers know to avoid. The rear storeroom contains a tiny writing desk, a concealed cash compartment, and a roof hatch used for receiving caravan deliveries. The proprietor, Orla Venn, is a level 6 human merchant and former caravan guard with cropped gray hair, a missing tip to one ear, and a habit of evaluating every customer by their boots. She wears a faded green vest over chain shirt links and keeps a hand crossbow beneath the counter. Orla is practical, warm toward honest travelers, and merciless toward thieves. She gives a small discount to anyone who returns borrowed equipment in good condition, but she keeps a handwritten blacklist of swindlers and posts their names beneath the counter. Her mastiff, Buck, is old, clever, and trained to bark at anyone who enters the storeroom without Orla's permission.”