Calvarr was silently sitting in his shop in the East side of the village. He sat in the old, rickety chair with his feet on the counter, silently waiting for customers. Behind him, there were a bunch of threatening letters to close his store down. "It's nothing personal," he always says "It's only what my passion is."
Finally, a customer came in. It was a Grubb that looked fairly old. He wore a black robe with a cowl on it, and he used a cane to support his body. He shuddered as he moved.
"Whaddya' want?" Calvarr asked. "Is this another lost soul looking for guidence? If so, your in the wrong place."
The old Grubb nearly chuckled. "I'm here for what this is built here for." He replied."
"Hmmmm, what do YOU need poisons for?" Asked Calvarr.
"I'm in need of them so I can, ahem." The Grubbs voice turned into a whisper. "Kill one of my old rivals."
Calvarr went silent and looked at the old Grubb for a moment. Finally, he took his feet off the counter and looked at his face closely.
"I like you, oldie. What's your name?"
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