Mira's Shards & Sundries
Est. 2025 • Half-Elf Artificer (Alchemist specialist)
Mira's Shards & Sundries
The shop is packed floor-to-ceiling with glass wares: mirrors stacked against smashed window frames, jars of rainbow dust, and half-finished lenses strapped to ...
Shopkeeper
Mira Ashglass, a Half-Elf Artificer (Alchemist specialist) (Lvl 8)
Keeper's Species
Half-Elf
Shop Inventory
(14)A corked phial filled with fine powdered glass. Used as an abrasive, ritual component, or improvised trap filler.
A viscous oil that cleans and preserves lenses and mirrors without etching the glass.
A palm-sized glass lens that amplifies light and detail to uncanny degrees.
A math-shaped glass sphere filled with razor shards and a flash powder. Toss and it explodes into a spray of glass.
Essential tools: small blowpipe, mandrels, cold cutters, polishing paste and a selection of glass rods and sheets.
A tiny compass sealed under glass that points toward the nearest permanent source of glass (kiln, obsidian deposit, magical glass works) rather than magnetic north.
A durable flask made from layered glass. Holds hot liquids and resists minor shocks.
A slim dagger forged from annealed obsidian-like glass, razor sharp and impossibly light.
A compact shortbow with limbs inlaid with reinforced glass filaments. Smooth draw and a faint chime when strung.
A small round shield with a polished, clouded surface that catches and distorts faces.
Thick lenses etched with runes to focus and dampen hostile visual magic.
A crystal vial with liquid as bright as a cut gem. Drinking grants vision through illusions and around minor visual trickery.
A cloudy syringe of viscous resin made from glass-sap and binding salts. When applied to broken glass items (or similarly brittle items), it knits cracks as though mended by a cast of mending.
A hand-sized shard from an ancient mirror-altar. It hums with recorded echoes of past reflections.
Mira Ashglass
Shop Atmosphere
“The shop is packed floor-to-ceiling with glass wares: mirrors stacked against smashed window frames, jars of rainbow dust, and half-finished lenses strapped to a workbench. Mira moves with quick, precise motions, talking to her pieces as if they were patients — winding up a cracked mirror and apologizing when it coughs. In the wasteland she picks up broken glass from caravans, trading shards for stories. She refuses to sell anything to those who stomp through the doorway with dusty boots; you'll be asked to leave or clean them on the spot. At night, the shop sometimes reflects distant lightning like a living map of storms — buyers swear the mirrors whisper if you hold a shard to your ear.”
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