Roger's Stone and Spell Emporium
Est. 2025 • Goliath (stoneborn) Artificer
Roger's Stone and Spell Emporium
Roger of Drask is a massive, stone-veined goliath whose laugh sounds like boulders tumbling down a hill. He runs the shop from a vaulted cellar beneath an old a...
Shopkeeper
Roger of Drask, a Goliath (stoneborn) Artificer (Lvl 12)
Keeper's Species
Goliath (stoneborn)
Shop Inventory
(13)A squat glass phial filled with ruby liquid that bubbles gently. The shopkeeper insists it tastes faintly of stonefruit.
A slightly larger vial than the common potion; the liquid has a warm golden swirl when shaken.
A rolled parchment sealed with a smear of blue wax. The runes within glow faintly and can restore flesh.
A blackened scroll wrapped with a band of scorched leather. The script curls like small flames when held to the light.
A stout-looking sack of well-stitched leather. When held open it seems to swallow light; Roger grins and calls it a "pocket for a porter."
A leather pouch with many small pockets. Roger refills it between customers and insists it will last a season of adventuring.
A small tin of midnight-blue chalk that leaves faintly glowing lines. Ideal for marking wards and trap outlines.
A polished whistle carved from riverbone, inlaid with a tiny panther motif. Claws takes particular interest whenever one is sold.
A smooth rune-stone the size of a coin, etched with a tiny lattice of protective lines. Warm to the touch when activated.
A bottle of thick, iridescent ink that hums faintly. Wizards say it 'remembers' letters as you write them.
A heavy wool cloak lined with a faintly shimmering thread. It smells faintly of wet rock and peppermint.
Soft-leather boots that seem to swallow the sound of footsteps. The soles contain tiny stitched runes shaped like pawprints.
A longsword with a stone-etched pommel. Despite its modest price, it bites with unnerving consistency.
Roger of Drask
Shop Atmosphere
“Roger of Drask is a massive, stone-veined goliath whose laugh sounds like boulders tumbling down a hill. He runs the shop from a vaulted cellar beneath an old alehouse; the ceiling is low but every shelf is perfectly arranged. Shelves are lined with jars of powder, rows of glass vials, leather-wrapped scrolls, and some curious oddities like polished riverstones engraved with tiny runes. Claws, a glossy black panther no bigger than a large dog, prowls between legs and nap-shelves, coming to rest across Roger's broad boots when customers pay more attention to the goods than to the owner. The light is warm, lanterns swing with faint protective wards, and there's always the scent of wet stone and tobacco. Roger sells items at astonishingly low prices because he believes magic should be used and enjoyed rather than hoarded. He will haggle cheerfully, prefering company and stories to coin, and will sometimes trade a small favor—fetching a rare herb or sitting with his panther—for a modest discount. He speaks slowly, has a deep baritone, and insists on wrapping purchases in thick cloth so 'they don't get upset on the road.'”
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