The Maw & Hammer
Est. 2025 • human artificer (battle smith background)
The Maw & Hammer
The shop sits in a narrow alley that always seems colder; flaking black paint around the doorway forms a faint, smiling mouth. Iris hums lullabies in a language...
Shopkeeper
Iris Vell, a human artificer (battle smith background) (Lvl 5)
Keeper's Species
human
Shop Inventory
(14)A well-balanced, forged-and-polished longsword. The blade has faint etchings that look almost like teeth when the light hits them.
A sharp dagger with visible, deliberate seams along its haft, as if sewn to its wielder. Lightweight and easily concealed.
A brutal, single-headed axe whose edge carries tiny notches that resemble bite marks.
A long blade with a silvered edge, hammered until it glints like moonlight. Useful against certain supernatural creatures.
A heavy cleaver that tastes of cold iron. It finds purchase like a hungry jaw. Some customers claim it 'sucks' pain from enemies.
A shortsword whose fuller catches drops of blood and seems to drink them. The blade hums faintly when creatures are wounded nearby.
A curved blade folded in a manner that traps a faint, cold fog in its grooves. When swung it produces a barely audible keening.
A dark viscous oil that you can apply to a weapon. It slithers on like a smear of shadow.
A small corked vial containing shadowy filaments. Swiped along a blade, the filaments cling and darken the steel.
A dark whetstone flecked with a fine silver dust. A quick rub sharpens steel and seems to 'align' the edge.
A narrow quiver filled with tiny, obsidian-like needles. They make odd, high-pitched sounds when drawn.
Leather bracers fitted with discreet studs and small blades along the inner forearm. Meant for brawlers or desperate escapes.
A blacksmith's hammer with a silvered head. It's heavy enough to crush bone and bright enough to catch stares.
A leather roll of tongs, files, spare rivets and a small ember-stone used for quick repairs and field maintenance.
Iris Vell
Shop Atmosphere
“The shop sits in a narrow alley that always seems colder; flaking black paint around the doorway forms a faint, smiling mouth. Iris hums lullabies in a language no one remembers and occasionally polishes a weapon by running a fingertip along the blade and tasting the edge. She offers a small discount to those who bring fresh iron in exchange and keeps a ledger of names in a book bound with stitched leather—customers report that errant names have been crossed out by themselves.”
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