Syld
Asking a few questions of the group of pilots, you find yourself directed to an unusual pair in foreign garb, seated at a small table.
One of the pair is a dwarf, a pair of thick and heavy goggles set atop his brow. In the pouch of his plain tan apron is a wide assort of metal apparati that you can't even begin to name, though you have seen some similar tools before, from the time you visited Tristam's shop. The dwarf's companion is a creature that looks something like a goblin, though slightly shorter; the back of its hands - which are an ash color, as is the rest of its skin - are covered in a thick, dark layer of fur. His eyes are quite large, and gleam with unusual intelligence. The pair are dressed in clothing similar to what Tori'shel wore: denim and leather, tough and rugged, with an eye for function and durability over form.
The dwarf notices you, and turns his seat to meet you. "Thranos Bluesteel, atcher service." He nods, and touches his goggles with his forefinger. "An' this'd be Grakyl; he's a gremlin, if ya ken." The gremlin nods. "What kin we do fer ya?"