Durnan Oreseek arrived in Neverwinter long before he admitted he was staying. He claimed he was only passing through, following rumors of salvageable ore scattered through the Tower District ruins. What he did not mention—what he never mentions—is that the shadows reached him first. In the chaotic years after Mount Hotenow’s eruption, scrap metal became a strange kind of gold. Collapsed forges, shattered guard towers, melted caravan wheels—everything had value to someone willing to pry it from the wreckage. Durnan carved out a living there, working the ruins alongside runaways, half-starved laborers, and those who preferred their pasts left unspoken. They followed him not because he was kind, but because he was fair—a rare currency in a rebuilding city. Oresseek Extraction grew from a campfire promise into a legitimate, if faintly suspicious, salvage outfit. Their headquarters squats in a warehouse patched with three different styles of stone. The front room handles contracts and coin. The back room is silent and dim, where a single black candle burns before a small shrine to Mask. Durnan keeps it hidden behind stacked ingots, though the shadows warp unnaturally around it, as if guarding their own altar. His workers talk about him in low tones: how he can sense hidden scrap beneath ash as though the stone whispers to him; how he always knows when patrols are coming long before their lanterns appear; how he once walked alone into a bandit camp and returned carrying every weapon they owned. Neverwinter’s guild officials tolerate Oreseek Extraction because the streets run smoother with Durnan’s people clearing debris. Adventurers tolerate him because he sells unrefined metals cheaply and discreetly. And the shadows? They tolerate nothing—but they linger near him like loyal dogs. Some say Durnan is saving up enough coin to vanish one night without a trace. Others think he is waiting for Mask to name a price he cannot refuse. Whatever the truth, the Tower District holds its breath when he enters—because the man walks like someone who knows where the city's bones are buried.