Moonlit Briar Herbalistry
Est. 2025 • Half-elf Witch
Moonlit Briar Herbalistry
The owner leaves tiny paper offerings among the jars at dusk. They insist on pouring a drop of every new potion onto the sill for the moor winds to bless. A mos...
Shopkeeper
Elaria Moorsong, a Half-elf Witch (Lvl 3)
Keeper's Species
Half-elf
Shop Inventory
(15)A small glass phial of ruby liquid drawn from prayer and simple fey rites. A common restorative for early adventurers.
A deeper-red potion in a stopper-sealed vial. Rare on the moor but kept in small supply for real trouble.
A vial of pale, silvery liquid that gleams faintly in moonlight. Tastes faintly of honey and peat.
A bitter, herb-bittered vial used to counteract many common venoms and stomach poisons.
A vial of pungent crystals kept in a tiny corked jar. A staple for road medics and traumatised sheep-herders.
A sweet blue syrup brewed from marsh herbs, it settles stomachs and calms queasy souls.
A stoppered clay flask of viscous, magically warmed oil. Dangerous and useful in a fight or for signaling.
A black, slick pot of grease favored by scouts and thieves. Not strictly herbal but made from plant resins and moor oils.
A leather bag filled with a gummy paste of bog-plant fibers. Thrown at travellers who get too close to protected groves.
A sachet of crushed bitter herbs and smoke-dried bogberries to keep fleas and midges off tents and cloaks.
A leather roll of tools and salves every travelling party should carry.
A green salve that smells faintly of heather and sweet root. Often used before entering fey glades or hunting rare herbs.
A tiny packet of phosphorescent seeds plucked from a marshflower. Place in a shallow dish and they burn with faint blue light.
A scented cloth bundle that, when ripped open, coughs out a damp, chilly fog smelling of peat and crushed fern.
Loose leaves that whisper when steeped. A favorite of lone watchmen and those prone to nightmares.
Elaria Moorsong
Shop Atmosphere
“The owner leaves tiny paper offerings among the jars at dusk. They insist on pouring a drop of every new potion onto the sill for the moor winds to bless. A moss-grey cat named Moss sleeps in the mortar by day and will bat at anyone who calls fey by the wrong name.”
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