Charis - Jewelers Shop

As you approach the remains of the jeweler's shop, the once-elegant structure now stands shrouded in neglect, its ornate features softened by the passage of time. The stone exterior is weathered and cracked, with ivy and creeping vines wrapping themselves around the building, as though nature itself is trying to reclaim what was once so finely crafted. Overgrown planters sit at the front, their contents long withered and tangled—dried-out stalks of what were once vibrant flowers now bow under their own dead weight, forgotten like the rest of the shop.   Above, a shattered sign hangs askew, its frame still adorned with gilded edges that have mostly faded away, the once-glorious gold now tarnished and dull. The lettering, once meticulously carved and ornate, is now completely illegible, the words lost to time and weather. Even so, the delicate metalwork of the sign gives you a fleeting glimpse of the luxury that once marked this place.   To either side of the entrance, stained glass windows stand shattered—fragments of jewel-toned glass scattered across the ground. The shards glint faintly in the dim light, hues of ruby red, sapphire blue, and emerald green catching your attention as they sparkle like forgotten treasures. Despite the destruction, you can still make out the intricate patterns of swirling designs that once depicted images of wealth and craftsmanship—a reminder of the artistry that once filled these walls.   The door to the shop itself is slightly ajar, the remains of its frame splintered and warped, suggesting that whatever happened here was both violent and swift. There's a faint scent of decay in the air, but underneath it, the faintest trace of perfume or incense lingers, as if something or someone once called this place home.   It stands now as a silent testament to a time long past, the remnants of a once-thriving craft frozen in time.   As you step inside the jewelers' shop, a faint chill clings to the air, heavy with the dust of ages. What was once an opulent establishment has been reduced to ruins. The stone floors, once polished to a gleam, are now scratched and worn, with cracks spidering through the surface like veins in old marble.   You see the remnants of glass counters scattered about the room, their once-pristine surfaces now jagged and shattered. Large, finely crafted counters, once designed to display the finest of jewelry, are now empty shells, with shards of glass strewn across the floor. Some are half-standing, leaning at odd angles, their elegant shapes made clumsy by the ravages of time and violence. There are deep gouges in the counters, evidence of the haste with which they were ransacked. Clearly, this place was looted long ago, its riches now scattered, likely claimed by those who came before you.   In the back of the room, a set of large display cases line the walls, their glass cracked and broken. Where once precious gems and intricately crafted rings, necklaces, and bracelets would have been proudly displayed, now nothing remains. The shelves inside the cases are empty, some of them overturned. Small pieces of shattered glass catch the light from the broken windows, glinting as they reflect off the debris that litters the floor.   The walls, which would have once been adorned with fine tapestries or mirrors, are now bare—just fading outlines where treasures used to hang. In a far corner, you spot a broken mirror, its surface cloudy and cracked, reflecting a twisted version of the room and your own forms as you pass by. It almost feels as though the shop, despite the destruction, still holds onto some sense of its former grandeur.   As you make your way deeper into the shop, you approach the workroom at the back. The air here is thicker, stale from years of neglect. The stone walls seem colder, as though this room has long been forgotten. The heavy scent of old wood and metal clings to the air, mixed with a faint, acrid undertone of rust and decay.   At the center of the room, you see the remnants of a large wooden workbench, its surface worn from years of use. The workbench, once pristine, is now cluttered with disarray—piles of broken tools and scattered equipment. The files, hammers, and pliers that would have been carefully arranged are now tossed aside, their once-fine craftsmanship dulled by time and neglect. Some tools are bent or chipped, abandoned as if the craftsmen who once worked here were suddenly called away, leaving everything behind.   On the floor, a few disassembled mechanisms lie in the shadows—possibly parts of some intricate jewelry, now dismantled and forgotten. The worktable’s surface is scarred with countless marks from where precious metals were shaped and polished, but now it’s streaked with dust and grime. Scattered along the table, you notice a few stray nuggets of metal, their edges jagged and half-finished.   To the side, there’s a shelf that should have contained fine tools, now empty except for a few rusted nails and splintered planks. A tattered apron hangs on a hook, its fabric worn thin with age, no longer in use. You spot a small chest in the corner, but its latch is broken, and the contents have long been taken, leaving only a few tarnished coins and bent brass fittings at the bottom.   Across the room, a large furnace once used to melt metals and smelt ores stands cold and unused, its iron door half-open and rusty. A scattering of ash and soot surrounds it, remnants of a once-active forge, now just another abandoned relic.

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As your foot presses down on one of the tiles, you feel it give way slightly beneath your weight. The tile shifts with a quiet scrape, revealing a small gap underneath. Moving the stone aside, you find a small, hidden metal chest nestled in the dust beneath. The chest is well-made, with intricate designs etched into its surface—delicate patterns of interwoven vines and small gemstone embellishments that hint at the beauty once held within. It looks out of place here, as if someone tried to hide it away, keeping it safe from the devastation that befell the shop. With a soft click, the chest opens. Inside, you find several beautiful jewelry pieces, each one more exquisite than the last   "To whoever finds this,     I have discovered something truly remarkable in the Dragon Ridge Mountains—hidden in a cave deep within the Green Subterranean. The jewels there are like no others. No stories could do them justice, for they shimmer in a way that defies description. I have seen them with my own eyes, but I dare not bring them back with me. The cave is deep, and the creatures that dwell within are as dangerous as the riches they guard. They are unlike any beasts I've encountered before—fierce and relentless.     I can no longer remain here, but I feel an overwhelming need to share what I know. —L.D."