Among the tumult and chaos of the tavern, one solitary figure seems unmoved and unchanged by the hectic nature of the establishment. As the barmaid bellowed out her orders, his expression remains calm and contemplative.<br/><br/>The first impression would be of his size. Even among the stout dwarves of the fire island he stands tall and wide, with his reptilian features almost touching the roof of the establishment, and his width enhanced by his hard shell. These combined to give him barrellike dimensions, that might have seemed intimidating were it not for his calm, soft demeanor. He seems as harmless as a summer breeze, and and gentle as a spring shower.<br/><br/>The tortle's skin is a dull olive color, reminding one of thick fertile mud. His scales are small and rigid, like those of a lizard, and both hands and feet end in long, blunt talons, which are less weapons than tools. His face distinctly birdlike, with a wide golden beak and small intelligent brown eyes.<br/><br/>His shell is large and oval, with a combination of brown and gold swirls colliding into random patterns throughout its bulky mass. Over the back of this shell can be seen a thin layer of moss and lichen, alongside small protruding mushrooms of various bright colors.<br/><br/>He is arrayed in a riot of colors, with a toga and scarf adorning his torso and head respectively. Each is swirled with myriad colors, and over these items are adorned an array of trinkets and bobbles, small shinies he has collected throughout his far ranging travels.<br/><br/>Resting next to his seat is a long staff, similarly wrapped in colorful cloth, and set with mushrooms. It is as close to a weapon as the creature seems to bear, and even that seems a stretch. Sitting next to it is a colorful shield, comprised of woven twigs, and inset with beautiful flowers.<br/><br/>The tortle is uninterested in the goings on of the inn, his focus entirely upon the large wooden bowl before him, a simply crafted dish holding a thick sludge of porridge to its brim. The tortle eyes the contents curiously, and then reaches out a hand, dropping a scattering of brightly colored berries into the gruel. He mixes this with a wooden spoon, and the gruel changes from its tepid white color to a bright mishmash of color, not unlike his wardrobe.<br/><br/>Nodding his head appreciatively, the tortle druid begins to eat his food, making small hisses of pleasure as he consumes it.<br/><br/>This is Moss Rainwater, shaman to the Kappa Clan of Tortle Island. A wanderer and druid by trade, no one can say how he came to this small, bustling inn, even the tortle himself. He simply follows where nature leads him, and today it has brought him to this place. Such is the wild and unpredictable will of The Green Lady.<br/><br/><strong>PC: Moss casts the spell Goodberry as an action,  and uses it to season his porridge.</strong>