Most people don’t stop by here anymore. A relic, a warning, an echo of previous lives and passing fancies, Vinth has served as Harbling’s once popular elfin knickknacks shoppe for over three centuries.
When contemporary citizens purchase cheap furnishings produced by orcish slaves and curios reliably imported from around the continent by halfling merchants, the fashion of bedecking a Ruglin Street flat in finely crafted elfin artefacts may seem curiously expensive. But for those seeking the genuine, elfin craftsmanship or desiring classic vintage stylings, this shoppe is a must.
An authentic elfin mercantile, I scraped my head multiple times on the ceiling beams, graven in not untypical intricate elfin patterns and motifs. Upon hearing my initial yelp, the proprietor, Mirithanestra, an Elven woman with pigtailed salt & pepper hair and just shy of eight-centuries, points to an elaborate but under lit placard by the door, notifying (not warning – due to its under lit presentation) humans and other sizable races to “Mind your head.” Ironically, this very indifference to humanity once popularized this shoppe with bourgeois humans from across the polis; these low beams testify to its popularity and risk. Those supports crossing the isles have noticeably worn edges, from countless craniums casually smoothing them away over a few centuries – an wooden elfin inverse of the nearby grand marble stairs which Thorri Broadbar designed for St. Loman’s plaza centuries ago, and now worn down by the innumerable leather soles of padding pilgrims ascending the Mount.
Although the popularity has subsided, Vinth still swiftly sells furnishings and tapestries. It has benefited over the past decade from the end of the occupation, as burghers replace wooden stools, trunks, and tables lost to the conquerors’ conflagrations. If you seek fine elfin imports, Mirithanestra’s should be the first stop – just watch your head.