"Tch, what'cha think you're doin' here, pal? You better listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once. You only get Christoban's skills for the right price. Don't like it? Then scram, shortie; we all gotta make ends meet in this backwater gulge of a village. This ain't no charity.
...Didn't'cha hear me? Vamoose! Off with ya! Go bug some other croc. I've got hulls to hammer, and you wouldn't want your head included!
What, you say you're here for smithing services? Well, I'm just a washed-up mercenary who thinks the best weapons are those ya make yourself. If you don't share my philosophy, and ya've got the coin, feel free to lay it on the table. Don't worry about no slack job, neither. Quality gold demands quality work. And I know my work--which is why I don't take no complaints once it's finished, ya hear?
Welp, if that's all the info you were wantin' to know about, go ahead an' leave me to my buisness. Time is money, buddy."

Christoban is a retired mercenary/bruiser-for-hire, in the mist of turning his life around by adopting a more peaceful career in smithing. As the owner of a boarding house for anthros who share similar regretful pasts, he's met enough characters in his time to know not to judge a book by its cover. Everyone is an equal-opportunity nuisance in his eyes.