As you mention your hurt arm and desire for a robotic one, Rolf looks down at your wounded limb with a shrewd eye. "I might know someone who could help you with that," he says, his voice low. "But it's gonna cost you, my friend." Before you can respond, though, a group of rowdy, drunken goths jostle past and knock into you. You feel a sharp pain shoot through your arm as you stumble to the ground, and the bottle of Angel's Envy Cask Strength that you were carrying clatters and rolls away.

taken in #devilsnight