The Silver Greaves
Est. 2026 • Human Artificer
The Silver Greaves
The shop is lit by trays of cold silver light that never wick down; the bell atop the door rings in a thin, almost vocal pitch. When the owner polishes armor th...
Shopkeeper
Silas Niven, a Human Artificer (Lvl 13)
Keeper's Species
Human
Shop Inventory
(16)A full suit of plate, reinforced and polished to a mirrorlike pallor. Heavy but superbly forged; popular with knights who prefer a chilling, ghostly sheen.
A stout round shield painted with a faded argent crest. Practical and well-balanced.
A breastplate reinforced with streaks of adamantine. The metal looks almost painfully bright; patrons pay handsomely for its protection against devastating blows.
A polished tower shield inlaid with a pale moon motif. Wards feel faintly warm to the touch.
A pair of low greaves and boots lined in dark leather; they drink in sound. They are a favorite of scouts and infiltrators who dislike attention.
Named for the shop that crafted them, these pale greaves are chased with tiny runes that hum softly. Locals whisper that the metal keeps a sliver of dusk trapped inside.
Soft grey boots braided with silver wire; they feel slightly cooler than the air. Their soles have a whisperlike pattern.
A small glass phial of red liquid. The inside of the shop makes the liquid shimmer faintly like trapped embers.
A squat vial filled with a deeper crimson brew. Helpful after a bad fight.
A longsword etched with faint runes and an argent edge. Strikes ring cold when swung.
A heavier, perfectly balanced longsword whose edge gleams like polished moonsteel. Favored by adventurers who face creatures resistant to mundane steel.
A narrow clasped cloak woven with silver thread. It feels like a cool breath when you pull it around your shoulders.
A heavy hammer with a ghostly silver face. It rings with a timbre like a distant anvil and leaves faint sparks that fade into dust.
A length of almost-luminous thread kept in a cedar box. The shopkeeper keeps it under the counter for discreet customers with lycanthrope anxieties.
A tiny crescent-shaped plate that threads into greaves. The shopkeeper fits these only after testing the gait of the wearer.
A crate of mundane repair and maintenance supplies tailored for armorers and traveling companies.
Silas Niven
Shop Atmosphere
“The shop is lit by trays of cold silver light that never wick down; the bell atop the door rings in a thin, almost vocal pitch. When the owner polishes armor the metal occasionally exhales a single whisper. Haggling requires you to leave a personal token as collateral until the deal is done.”
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