Smitty Jansen
Smitty is small even by goblin standards — barely three feet tall, wiry, and constantly jittering with nervous energy. His skin is a sun-scorched green-gray, weathered from years of desert winds and bad deals. One of his ears has been replaced with a rusted cogwheel that spins when he's excited. His eyes are tired and a dull yellow from years of enduring harsh sandstorms. He wears a stained leather apron stuffed with tools, keys, and mysterious vials. His fingers are constantly stained with grease, and he often smells like ozone, melted rubber, and lizard jerky.
Smitty's Sundries & Supplies
Smitty operates out of a patched-together tent caravan nestled within the Oasis. The tent is held up by scavenged spelljamming struts and stitched-together tarpaulin printed with faded Imperial logos. Hanging from the frame are rusted trinkets, bent tools, and blinking baubles that spark with questionable enchantments. A warped wooden sign reads:
“NO REFUNDS. NO CURSES. MOSTLY FUNCTIONAL.”
Inside, the caravan is a chaotic nest of junk piles, ticking scrapbots, cracked Aetherium batteries, and bins labeled “Definitely Not Explosive.” Items of genuine value are usually buried beneath heaps of worthless parts — unless you know what to ask for.
Smitty is charming in the way only a professional liar can be. He speaks quickly, often over himself, and interrupts players with counter-offers before they finish a sentence. He’s paranoid of “Imperial clean-suits,” obsessed with collecting Imperial rank pins, and claims he once dated a mermaid who ran a smuggling ring.
While most of what he sells is either useless or slightly cursed, he genuinely respects good customers — especially those who barter with weird items, know their way around a servo-clamp, or appreciate “the art of the con.” Smitty never forgets a favor... or a betrayal.
