The Bleak Margin Scriptorium
Est. 2025 • Half-Elf Wizard (Divination)
The Bleak Margin Scriptorium
The shop's ceiling is festooned with hanging scrolls and maps, many of which appear stained or pitted with circular voids of blank parchment. When the door open...
Shopkeeper
Maelor Thrice-Ink, a Half-Elf Wizard (Divination) (Lvl 7)
Keeper's Species
Half-Elf
Shop Inventory
(10)A hefty tome chronicling forbidden rituals. The text seems to shimmer between pages, and some passages are written in languages unknown—even to scholars.
A magical scroll containing the spell 'Disguise Self.' It is inscribed with enchanting, shifting hues—except for a single, pale strip running through it.
A sturdy inkpot that never dries up. Dipping a quill into it produces softly glittering ink, except in utter darkness, where it turns pitch black.
A rare, hand-bound treatise explaining the phenomena of the colorless spots spreading across the land.
A spellbook with strange voids in the center of certain pages, as if gnawed by chromatic moths. Usable to transcribe spells.
Elegant spectacles with iridescent lenses. When worn, they reveal hidden text and marginalia in books worn by time.
A package of ten sticks of chalk in typical classroom hues, though one or two have lost all pigment.
A handbill warning of the encroaching colorless blight, with a crude map showing the latest reports.
A raven-feather quill that writes in brilliant colors that fade to gray within one hour.
A swirling, prismatic potion that, when consumed, temporarily attunes your vision to see hidden magical auras—except where color has vanished.
Maelor Thrice-Ink
Shop Atmosphere
“The shop's ceiling is festooned with hanging scrolls and maps, many of which appear stained or pitted with circular voids of blank parchment. When the door opens, a faint bell chimes—though you might hear it echo as a flat, toneless note. Maelor Thrice-Ink's left hand is perpetually stained with ink that refuses to wash away, and his pet bat emerges from behind shelves, sometimes carrying tiny torn-off book corners. At strange hours, letters in the titles on the shelves flicker and vanish, before slowly reappearing, often rearranged. Customers sometimes whisper that they feel watched—not by Maelor, but by the places where color once was, especially on nights when the moon shines red.”
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