There is an ornate clay jar, tightly corked and seemingly unbreakable, that shows up variously at different stalls across the market. It is on no shopkeep’s inventory, there is no mention of it in any ledger. However, when it appears suddenly on a new vendor’s shelf they all have the same policy, and have had for as long as they can remember: If you can open it, it’s yours. Now the villagers might believe it’s a prank between the shopkeeps, but they all agree that no one has been able to open that little jar, and wonder as to it’s contents.
Trophy: Kormoran's Wheel
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Jehaora the sailor sells shells and cockles from the Sea of Martyred Souls, and also - if asked - gold coins to the foolish or the desperate. For Gold floats on the Sea of Martyred Souls, each piece buoyed and infested with one of the ghosts who were drowned there long ago. If you buy the gold, you buy the unquiet soul as well, and it will inveigle itself into your dreams, into the lost thoughts between purpose and memory, into the frisson of deja vu.
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Kormoran’s newest vendor seems out of place in the mud and the filth all around them. But beaming from behind fine translucent silk Santina is happy to sell anyone interested a tiny chirping frog. Why anyone would want one has baffled the town and yet there Santina sits as chipper as ever, their frogs singing behind them.
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Don’t take up the offer by the traveling scholar. She offers lessons in rhetoric, arithmetic, ancient languages and a variety of other innocuous forms of erudition. She will take your coin, but the cost is not in gold. Knowledge without context is often … ruinous.
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Ioannes, the bookbinder, will bind you a unique book all your own: a Journal of the Journey that will fill its empty pages with each and every triumph and tribulation encountered in the Kalduhr. Every day the book will return to its owner, until the final day of the journey. The end of a tale is not always satisfying, but very final nonetheless. Ioannes has a large collection of beaten leather tomes from a multitude of authors.
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Alden Slabby sells the loveliest helmets with just a bit of gold in the middle of the crown. When the helmets are sold, he suggests the explorers take along his best guide for a tiny price.
Unfortunately, for the many adventurers that have worn the helmets, the gold acts as a bullseye for the soft spot. After the adventurers are slain, the guide retrieves the helmets for Alden to repair and sell to more unsuspecting souls.
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Dr. Laszlo knows that to a trophy hunter on the brink of death, nothing on this plane is worth more than a Dr. Laszlos Decoction of Restoration (patent pending).
His pharmacy sits on prime real estate at the eastern hub of Kormoran’s Wheel. Possessing excellent traffic patterns and favorable sight lines, it’s a simple, but well built shake structure, perfectly symmetrical outside and in. Above the bright red door hangs a shingle illustrated with two vials, one upright and full of red liquid, the other identical but inverted and empty.
A single draught of Dr. Laszlos’s Decoction of Restoration (patent pending) will restore the health and vitality of the clever consumer. But such magics demand counterpoise. As vigor is given to one hunter, so shall it be taken from another.
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Alberto Hand is not just any tea specialist! He sells only the rarest and most potent blends from his tea house on the northeast side of the central crossroad of Kormoran’s Wheel.
A full cup of his tea blend known as On Alert will not just keep the drinker up for their entire watch but also well after the delusions start. A cup of his REST blend will help you regain your health but will also leave you paralyzed between 1 - 12 minutes.
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The ‘rope children’ who dart in and out of the thoroughfare know that all adventurers need their wares. With lengths of hemp and silken rope draped around their neck they are tough negotiators, often demanding a price above the market value. Yet, it is best to pay them, or you might find your purse missing when you go to buy that fancy hand-axe.
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Even those with both eyes removed can’t miss the stall of Felligus, the dye merchant. You can smell the vinegar from twenty paces. He sells exotic pigments and stains from across all Kalduhr. “Look! A merry crimson, a regal beige, a foxy, prismatic yellow” he grins as he shoves skein after skein of threads into your hands. “One must not die looking a pauper!” The rain washes a iridescent slick into the gutter.
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The Runesmith. Just outside Kormoran’s Wheel there lives a Runesmith in a dingy tent. For a price, he will imprint an arcane mark upon your weapon–but to what end? Sometimes, a weapon will sprout roots and burrow its way into your arm. Sometimes, a weapon will send you into a deep and terrible slumber at the slightest touch of its hilt. And sometimes, a weapon will be imbued with searing flame, and you will burn a furious swathe into the black heart of the forest, the righteous hand of vengeance and ruin. Don’t have the money to pay the Runesmith for his handywork? Try one of the many discarded weapons that lie in the brush and mud around his shelter.
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FYI. I am totally using some of these items on this list for my play by forum random treasures.
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