The World's Granary
Est. 2026 • Human Commoner
The World's Granary
The shop is called The World's Granary, an ironic boast left over from its founders' ambition to supply an entire province. In truth, it is a cramped general st...
Shopkeeper
Töm, a Human Commoner (Lvl 2)
Keeper's Species
Human
Shop Inventory
(14)A plain, serviceable knife with a balanced point and a horn grip. The shopkeeper keeps several beneath the counter for travelers who misplace their eating utensils.
A short-handled hammer useful for nails, wagon repairs, and discouraging persistent vermin.
A small glass vial containing ruby-red liquid that trembles when held near an open flame.
A bitter herbal tonic sealed with green wax. It smells of vinegar, pine resin, and crushed roots.
Heavy, square-ended iron with a flattened claw on one side. Its previous owner painted a tiny blue stripe near the grip.
Coarse hemp rope sold in coils, each one rubbed with wax against damp weather.
Thick lamp oil in squat clay flasks. The shopkeeper warns customers not to store it beside flour, fodder, or angry dogs.
A dented brass lantern with blue glass panes and a sturdy latch. The light is steady even in a strong draft.
A waxed leather packet containing flint, steel, char cloth, and dry shavings.
A stout waterskin with a stitched shoulder loop and a stopper carved from pale antler.
Compact trail rations wrapped in waxed paper. The meat is aggressively salted, but it keeps well.
A gray paper cone filled with pungent dried moss, pepperroot, and ground resin. It was designed for hunters who needed to cross predator territory unnoticed.
A brittle clay capsule filled with bright mineral powder. The available colors are ocher, blue, and violet.
A square of felt embroidered with a crooked sun. Warmth spreads through it when pressed against a cloak or coat.
Lootable Stash
(5)Where The Take Sits
Security Check
On Failure
Estimated haul
140.96 gp
Till Reserve
Partner's Brass Locket
Winter Stock Ledger
Prospector's Garnets
Road Journal
Töm
Shop Atmosphere
“The shop is called The World's Granary, an ironic boast left over from its founders' ambition to supply an entire province. In truth, it is a cramped general store with a leaking roof, three sacks of grain, and shelves that groan whenever someone buys a candle. Its sign depicts a golden silo that the building has never possessed. The air inside smells of lamp oil, dried apples, wool, leather, and the faint medicinal bite of antitoxin. Goods hang from every beam: pots, coils of rope, rabbit snares, patched cloaks, tin cups, and bundles of ordinary tools. A narrow aisle winds between barrels and crates, forcing customers to turn sideways when two people meet. The proprietor is Töm, a broad-shouldered human with a close-cropped beard, weathered hands, and the patient suspicion of someone who has been cheated by both adventurers and wholesalers. His name is borrowed from his family's northern homeland and sounds slightly clipped in the local tongue. He wears a stained blue vest over a linen shirt and keeps a club beneath the counter, not because he expects trouble, but because he expects customers to claim they did not see the posted prices. Töm knows the value of every item in the shop and can identify most local travelers by their boots. He offers modest discounts to customers who repair something before leaving and charges double to anyone who calls The World's Granary a mere village shop.”
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