Nestled in the heart of Eryndor’s bustling arcane district, the Arcane Emporium towers over the cobblestone streets, a four-story marvel of enchanted architecture. Its facade shimmers with faintly glowing runes, and stained glass windows depict legendary artifacts in vibrant hues. A massive oak door, carved with celestial motifs, hums softly when approached by those bearing the Mark of Ascension—a magical sigil granted to adventurers deemed worthy by the city’s Council of Mages. The Emporium is the premier destination for adventurers seeking magical treasures, from common trinkets to rare artifacts, and its enigmatic proprietor, Valthorne the Veiled, ensures only the worthy leave with their desires fulfilled.
Description of the Emporium
The Arcane Emporium is a multi-tiered sanctuary of magic, each level catering to adventurers of increasing renown and power. The building’s interior is a labyrinth of polished marble floors, floating chandeliers, and shelves that seem to shift when unobserved. A faint scent of ozone and lavender lingers, and the air hums with latent magic. Invisible constructs—enchanted armors and floating orbs—patrol the halls, ensuring security while assisting customers. Each level is accessible via a central spiral staircase or a teleportation circle for those with the proper clearance.
This short story is in memory of our good friend, Paul Chang. He loved playing his grappling character, Gunthar the Barbarian. We are forever grateful for the doors he opened for us all in friendship and for the love of DND. While Paul will be missed, his characters such as Gunthar will live on in our imaginary worlds, as Paul will in our hearts
The bell above the door of Eryndor’s Arcane Emporium chimed with a sound like shattering stars, announcing the arrival of Gunthar the Barbarian. The shop’s interior was a labyrinth of wonder: shelves groaned under the weight of grimoires bound in dragonhide, vials of luminescent potions bubbled softly, and enchanted trinkets hummed with latent power. Crystal chandeliers floated without chains, casting prismatic light across walls adorned with runes that pulsed faintly, as if the building itself breathed magic. The air smelled of old parchment, ozone, and a hint of something suspiciously like burnt sugar.
Gunthar, a towering slab of muscle, strode in bare-chested, his black fur cloak billowing like a storm cloud. His fur-and-leather breeches and boots were caked with the dust of a dozen realms, and his wild mane of dark hair framed a face scarred from battles with beasts and worse. In his meaty fist, he clutched the Eye of Vecna, its malevolent glow winking from between his fingers.
A clockwork homunculus named Ruby greeted him, her brass limbs gleaming as she glided forward. Shaped like a young woman, her metallic torso housed a glowing ruby heart that pulsed with arcane energy. “Welcome, honored guest,” she said in a voice like tinkling bells. “Master Valthorne awaits you on the fourth floor.” With a whir of gears, she led Gunthar up a spiraling staircase that shimmered with wards, past floors cluttered with arcane oddities, to a private chamber reserved for VIPs.
Valthorne the Veiled stood behind a counter of polished ebony, his thin frame draped in robes of midnight blue embroidered with silver sigils. His sharp, hawkish face, framed by a neatly trimmed beard, exuded professionalism, though his eyes gleamed with the cunning of a merchant who could smell profit across planes. “Gunthar, you old war-ox,” he said, voice smooth as velvet. “What’s that in your hand? Not another cursed bauble, I hope.”
Gunthar grinned, revealing teeth like chipped tombstones. “Valthorne, you skinny spell-slinger! This here’s the Eye of Vecna. Worth a king’s hoard. I want legendary gear—stuff to make dragons weep. And I’ll haggle you down to your socks!”
Valthorne’s eyebrow arched. “The Eye, eh? Let’s see it.” He examined the artifact with a jeweler’s loupe, muttering about its necrotic aura. “Powerful, but risky. I’ll give you ten thousand gold, or trade for something from my vault.”
“Ten thousand?” Gunthar roared, slapping the counter. “I could buy a castle for that eye! Make it twenty, or I’ll arm-wrestle you for it!”
Valthorne chuckled. “You’d break my arm, you oaf. But let’s not oversell this eyeball. It’s got a bad habit of whispering to its owners. Fifteen thousand, and I’ll throw in a Blade of Dragonbane.”
Gunthar scratched his head, counting on his fingers. “Fifteen… that’s, uh, more than ten, right?”
“Barely,” Valthorne said dryly. “But I’ll add a Cloak of the Manticore. Spikes shoot out when you flex those absurd muscles of yours.”
“Deal!” Gunthar bellowed, then paused. “Wait, sixteen thousand?”
Valthorne sighed. “Math is not your friend, is it? Fifteen, final offer. But because I’m fond of you—and because your stomach is grumbling —I’ll toss in a bag of jerky sticks made from an ancient red dragon and an ice cream cone that is enchanted to never melt.”
Gunthar’s eyes lit up. “Jerky and ice cream? You have got a deal, Valthorne!” He handed over the Eye, already licking the cone as Ruby escorted him out, her ruby heart glinting with amusement.
Valthorne shook his head, muttering, “Barbarians. They’d trade a kingdom for snacks.”
Nice! Makes sense if it was Gunther being roleplayed by Paul. If it was Paul himself, I figure Valthorne would be crying after Paul left… Paul: “I lowballed the shit out of that guy, muhahaha”.
Nice! Valthorne is lucky he was haggling with Gunther and not Paul himself… Paul: “I lowballed the shit out if that guy, muhahaha!”