Ironbellow Forge
Est. 2025 • Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain)
Ironbellow Forge
The forge constantly smells of iron and pipe-ale. Bromir hums old mountain hymns as he works; he will polish any purchased item with a secret dulling oil if ask...
Shopkeeper
Bromir Ironbellow, a Dwarf Cleric (Forge Domain) (Lvl 13)
Keeper's Species
Dwarf
Shop Inventory
(16)A small glass phial sealed with wax. Warm to the touch and faintly sweet-smelling.
A flask of deep rose liquid. Drinking it knits muscle and bone more quickly than a common draught.
A heavy vial of golden liquid that leaves a faint warmth in the veins of the drinker.
A crystalline phial of glowing, pure silver liquid. Reserved for dire emergencies.
A classic knightly blade reforged in dwarven fashion: stout, reliable, and true.
A heavy warhammer with a short haft and a head engraved with mountain motifs.
A stout throwing hammer hammered from cold iron with runes that hum faintly. The head is polished so it gleams like a mountain stream.
A dwarven-forged sword whose blade can be set aflame by a series of heated strikes and whispered prayers at the forge.
A custom dwarven warhammer hammered into being to honor the mountain spirits. The head glows faintly when near stone.
Armor plated with seams of adamantine. Heavy and cold to the touch but lighter than it looks.
A heavy round shield burnished and rimmed with iron inlaid with dwarven knotwork.
Heavy greaves with carved runes of steadiness. Worn by miners and frontline defenders alike.
Custom metalwork, reinforcement, and runeworking service performed at the forge. Useful for mounting magical gems or adding a decorative but functional plate.
Cold, silvery-blue metal that sings faintly when struck. More valuable than regular ore and prized by master smiths.
A set of tools passed down through generations of the Ironbellow clan, blessed for craft and endurance.
A wooden crate filled with basics a traveling party should not go without: raw rivets, spare chain links, a coil of steel cable, and stout nails.
Bromir Ironbellow
Shop Atmosphere
“The forge constantly smells of iron and pipe-ale. Bromir hums old mountain hymns as he works; he will polish any purchased item with a secret dulling oil if asked. He refuses to sell directly to those who refuse to remove their helm while bargaining. The bell over the shop rings in a peculiar three-note cadence when a worthy dwarf is nearby.”
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