Zevlor blinks for a moment at 'metal teeth', the phraseology making him wonder if literal teeth are involved here. Clearly not, though, if they were being kept in this poor man's luggage. "I'm sorry to tell you, vague answers and incomplete information are par for the course here," he says with an apologetic look. "I doubt the Tavernkeeper has the full picture of things, truthfully."

"That said, I'm happy to help where I can. There's a quest board. Native Calderans will ask for help with various tasks, some more dangerous than others, and you're paid for completing them. That payment can be used to get your things, or your powers, back."

"Are you completely unarmed? Not all the activities involve fighting, but there are bandits in the wild, you may need at least a staff or dagger--"

Maybe he's getting ahead of himself, though. "Apologies. My name is Zevlor." He offers a handclasp.