The Drowned Bazaar (House Jones)
Est. 2025 • Human Warlock
The Drowned Bazaar (House Jones)
The Drowned Bazaar sits in a narrow house owned by House Jones; lacquered shelves curve like waves and jars hum softly. The shop smells of brine, incense, and o...
Shopkeeper
Lady Mirelle Jones, a Human Warlock (Lvl 6)
Keeper's Species
Human
Shop Inventory
(17)A small tin of dried, ink-blue petals from eastern coasts. Steeped tea brings clarity — and troubling dreams.
A palm-sized disc of sea-worn jade carved with spirals that seem to shift when you blink.
Midnight-blue ink that seems to breathe when exposed to moonlight. Favored for enchantments and sigils.
A sealed jar of black-speckled sand that shifts in patterns like tiny tides.
A supple, waterproof rope woven from a silken fiber harvested from river-eels in the east.
A carved bone mask painted with lacquered koi. Eyes are empty and cool.
A waterproof map that shimmers with shifting streets only visible under moonlight.
A thin circlet set with an opal that seems to hold a tiny storm within its depths.
A tiny phial filled with an oily, black substance that smells faintly of the deep sea.
A small, waterproof box, lacquered black and inlaid with mother-of-pearl; perfect for holy relics or tiny offerings.
Cones made from sandalwood, coastal resins and a pinch of powdered pearl — burn them during rites.
A convincing reproduction of the Jones signet ring — useful for papers, trinket gifts, and illicit deception (illegal to use as real authority).
A sealed tin of dense rations seasoned with eastern brine spices—keeps well at sea.
A curved eastern blade with a blue-green patina and an inlay of mother-of-pearl shaped like waves.
A slender, curved short blade balanced for finesse; the pommel is carved with a dancing crane.
Fine eastern silk embroidered with kelp and stylized tentacles. The House Jones crest sits on the breast.
A small glass vial of brackish liquid that brightens a wound when poured on it.
Lady Mirelle Jones
Shop Atmosphere
“The Drowned Bazaar sits in a narrow house owned by House Jones; lacquered shelves curve like waves and jars hum softly. The shop smells of brine, incense, and old paper. Lady Mirelle (a small, impeccably dressed noble with sea-glass eyes) greets customers with formal courtesy — then leans in and whispers shipping news as if telling a secret. She polishes a tiny brass abacus between transactions and counts coins in a rhythmic, low chant that sometimes sounds oddly like a tide. All items are displayed with small salt-stained tags stamped with the Jones kraken; bargains may be had for people who can tell a good story, recite an old sea-chant, or present a coin from a House Jones ship. Beware: late at night the jars against the back wall give off faint murmurs that customers claim answer questions they never asked.”
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