The Crooked Grimoire & Curios
Est. 2025 • Tiefling Warlock
The Crooked Grimoire & Curios
The Crooked Grimoire smells of old paper, ozone, and faint iron. Shelves lean at impossible angles and jars wink with trapped motes. Morgwyn Vex-Black sits behi...
Shopkeeper
Morgwyn Vex-Black, a Tiefling Warlock (Lvl 11)
Keeper's Species
Tiefling
Shop Inventory
(15)A finely balanced +1 longsword whose blade seems to drink light. Faint, susurrating voices can be heard along its fuller.
A dented set of plate mail softened by sigils. Grants a faint frosty sheen along seams.
A thick, amethyst liquid that mends wounds with a soft, cold sensation.
A syrupy gold potion that makes luck feel like a warm cloak.
A crystal phial containing swirling silver mist. Morgwyn claims it has saved lives 'when used correctly.'
A tarnished silver ring set with a dull opal. The wearer feels steadier but colder to others.
A silver-threaded cloak that renders the wearer unseen when the hood is drawn, yet the fabric seems to drink light like a black pool.
A charred ash wand bound with copper wire. It holds the heat of a kiln in its core.
A faded parchment; the ink smells faintly of grave soil. Inscribed prayers call a soul back.
A heart-shaped hematite pendant that seems to pulse faintly when worn.
Leather boots with silver buckles. While active, the world seems to slow around the wearer.
A worn but serviceable bag lined with strange stitching. The mouth seems almost too eager.
A slim tome bound in human leather. Reading it sharpens the mind like a whetstone but tastes like old sorrow.
A set of small bone dice with one face stained black. Lucky and foul in equal measure.
A palm-sized coal that smolders without heat. It lights rooms with a thin blue flame that smells faintly of ash and regrets.
Morgwyn Vex-Black
Shop Atmosphere
“The Crooked Grimoire smells of old paper, ozone, and faint iron. Shelves lean at impossible angles and jars wink with trapped motes. Morgwyn Vex-Black sits behind a warped counter, fingers tipped in ink and scorch marks, eyes like polished onyx. She offers tea that hums with static, demands payment in coin, curios, or promises, and always insists on writing something down in a battered, rune-fastened ledger when you leave. The shop itself seems to catalogue grudges: any loud sneer is remembered by a loose tile that later squeaks when the offender returns. Lantern light throws shadows that wink independently; on occasion a bell sounds though no door has opened. Morgwyn smiles when she sells a bargain, and when asked about the curses she shrugs, 'All good magic has a price. I merely write the receipt.'”
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