In the enchanting town of Ebonside, nestled amidst cobblestone streets and mystical emporiums, there exists a high-end clothing shop and tailor known far and wide as "Vellichor's Whimsy." This establishment is no ordinary haberdashery; it is a place where the past and present harmoniously converge, and the proprietor, Thaddeus Vellichor, is as eccentric as the garments he creates.

Vellichor's Whimsy stands as a marvel of architecture in Ebonside. The exterior is draped in vines that appear to be alive, gently swaying with the wind, and the signage is adorned with luminescent runes that shimmer at twilight. Stepping inside, visitors are transported into a realm of opulent fabrics, rich textures, and timeless designs.

The shop's interior is a haven of exquisite craftsmanship, featuring elegant racks of clothing ranging from regal ballgowns to finely tailored suits for any discerning customer. Silk from distant lands, dragonhide, enchanted materials, and the rarest of eldritch fabrics adorn the shelves. Exquisite mannequins wearing otherworldly attire greet patrons as they enter, each one whispering tales of forgotten eras.

One distinct quirk that sets Vellichor's Whimsy apart is the proprietor's fascination with time. Every garment that Thaddeus Vellichor creates bears a subtle enchantment, connecting its wearer to a particular moment in history. When clients don his creations, they experience vivid, dreamlike visions, glimpsing the lives and stories of the people who lived during the time represented by the attire. It's said that wearing a Vellichor original is like donning a piece of history itself.

Thaddeus Vellichor himself is a figure of legend in Ebonside. His age is an enigma, for he seems unchanged by time. His hair is a striking shade of silver, and his eyes sparkle with the knowledge of centuries. He's known to wear extravagant robes adorned with arcane symbols, each bearing a story of its own. He has a knack for determining precisely which era each customer should connect with, and his intuition is never questioned. Rumor has it that he possesses an ancient tome, the "Chrono-Fabrica Grimoire," which he consults to guide his creations.

Though reserved and cryptic, Thaddeus Vellichor is immensely passionate about his craft. He conducts fittings and consultations in a dimly lit chamber that houses a grand mirror said to have been enchanted by the fabled Time Weavers. It's whispered that the mirror has the ability to reflect one's true self, but only when adorned in Vellichor's creations.

Vellichor's Whimsy is a beacon of timelessness and intrigue in the fantastical town of Ebonside, where the past meets the present, and fashion transcends mere attire to become an enchanting journey through history. Whether seeking to make a statement or to uncover a hidden story, those who enter the shop leave not only with fine clothing but also with a deeper connection to the past.

On this particularly chilly evening in Ebonside, as the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, the soft patter of goblin footsteps echoed through the cobblestone streets. The moment you enter the shop, the atmosphere seems to stir with a sense of importance. Thaddeus Vellichor, ever perceptive to the aura of his patrons, emerged from behind a heavy velvet curtain, a cryptic smile on his ageless face. Dressed in a robe adorned with emerald and sapphire symbols that gleamed like the night sky, he made a striking figure.

With a sweeping, elegant bow that carried an air of profound respect, Thaddeus greets you. "Your Grace," he intoned with a voice that resonated through the shop, "Welcome to Vellichor's Whimsy. It is an honor to have a noble of your stature grace my humble establishment. I sense that your presence brings with it a rich history and a story waiting to be woven into the fabric of time."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 17:10, Fri 13 Oct 2023.

Though he was a newcomer to Ebonside, Boorgrub had heard the tales of Vellichor's Whimsy even before he was assigned here by the council. His family was in the textile trade, and one of the most famous clothiers in all of Ralan Gul's name was one spoken with respect among the weavers and cloth merchants of the West Morres. His grandfather had visited Vellichor's Whimsy when he was still a young goblin, and Boorgrub had grown up listening in wide-eyed wonder to the old man's tales of the shop, each more fanciful than the last.

The thought of the reality of being fitted by Vellichor made the goblin pause at the door for a moment. Reality, he had learned, was oft-times less satisfying than the wonderful tales told to children, but as the vines decorating the exterior brushed across the back of his hand, Boorgrub had to wonder if his grandfather had been understating the events in his tales.

The former Baron Pandilk finally mustered his courage and stepped within, taking in the rich scent of fabric and dye, so reminiscent of the home he had been driven from five years before. He drew in a deep breath, forcing a bittersweet smile onto his face as Thaddeus Vellichor greeted him in person, every bit the eccentric that his grandfather had described. He returned the sweeping bow with practiced grace, but his smile wavered as he greeted the tailor in turn.

"You do me too much honor, Master Vellichor. Word travels faster than a stooping falcon, but apparently, it has not winged its way here. My barony is no longer mine to claim, and I would not impose the demands of royalty I no longer possess on you. I am merely Boorgrub Pandilk, seventh of his line now, and I find myself in need of clothing more fitting for formal events than this." He made a gesture to his colorful if surprisingly functional, garb. When he looked back up from his clothes it was with a smile on his face. "My grandfather had nothing but praise for your gifts with fabric and thread, and if the small coin I have to my name is sufficient, I would see for myself how you turn simple silk into magic."

Thaddeus, a man of formidable presence and undeniable strength, envelops your hand in both of his own, hands that belie their true power upon first glance. His eyes lock onto yours with an expression that defies easy interpretation, a gaze that seems to penetrate the very depths of your soul. In a voice that carries the weight of centuries, he speaks in hushed tones, addressing you with an intimacy reserved for a true noble.

"My dear Baron," he begins, his words carrying a solemn gravitas that resonates in the dimly lit room, "noble lineage is not a commodity to be recklessly gained or lost, nor is it defined by the mere possession of an ornate chair. Even in your exile, your heart remains steadfast in its devotion to your people, transcending the trifles that have captivated your estranged sibling. You have been unjustly cast away, yet within you, the spirit of the true Baron Pandilk endures. Do not allow it to wither in the shadows. Embrace it as you would a suit of armor, for it shall serve as your guiding light on the path home."

With a deliberate release of your hand, he continues in his customary resonant tone, "I vividly recall the legacy of the Pandilks. The first of your noble kin to grace these halls was Baron Pandilk the 3rd, a remarkable young man with a discerning eye for fabrics and dyes. This marked the inception of a prosperous alliance—a partnership which, regrettably, the current overseer of your family's holdings has seen fit to sever, a grievous folly born of misguided judgment. Your wealth carries no sway in this place, a decree your family has seen to. Yet, as I recollect, the last remnants of your birthright lie in these very chambers."

With a swish of his coat, Thaddeus vanishes into the recesses of his establishment, the muffled echoes of fabric rolls crashing onto surfaces reverberating through the air. As you navigate the labyrinth of racks, it comes as no surprise to discover several garments woven from the famed West Morres fabrics.

Moments later, Thaddeus re-emerges, bearing a selection of fabric bolts, each one bearing the hallmark of your lineage. He presents them with a mixture of pride and solemnity. "Behold, these are the remnants of your heritage, Baron. Long ago, your grandfather made me a solemn promise—that each Baron would wear my craftsmanship with a sense of honor, and in return, I would be ensured a steady supply of textiles to garb the noble line of your family. Your rule may have weathered misfortune, denying you the chance to visit, but that is of no consequence now. The tradition shall resume, as it was destined to."

He pauses, leaning closer, his words weighted with profound meaning. "But before we begin, I request but one pledge of you. My garments are fashioned for individuals of distinction, for they serve as more than mere attire. When you don them, do so with the tie to the past, always looking toward the future. Your duty to your people is a solemn obligation, and it is my fervent wish that my creations remind you of that responsibility at every turn."

By now, Boorgrub was used to his hands being swallowed up in human hands, one didn't reach the places he had been without pressing flesh with a great many different races, but the power behind the grip holding his was undeniable. Master Vellichor it seemed was far more than he appeared, like so many of the residents of this small town.

It had his senses tingling. Something was very strange in Ebonside. Something to investigate later.

When the elder human addressed him again, he found himself remembering what it was to be a Baron. For five years, he had been living hand to mouth, adventuring not just for the joy of the new, but to survive. His back straightened a little, his ears rose, and for what seemed like the first time in an age, he stood as the noble he had been raised to be. "You are as wise as you are skilled, Master Vellichor, and I am indebted to you for reminding me of my place and my destiny. I shall not forget again what it means to be a Pandilk, and you may rest assured that the mistakes that Gorsnab has made shall be made right again. We, you and I, will forge a new tradition from the old, and your establishment will not know a lack of Pandilk wares again."

He smiled, letting the ageless elderly appearing man speak as he would, though questions raced through his mind. Had this human really been there more than one hundred sixty years ago? The legends must be true, for his description of the third Baron was entirely accurate. Boorgrub the Third had been the force that raised the Pandilks and the Heddleton barony from a fortified military encampment into the forefront of Morrean economics, building the textile trade into something valuable even then, and moreso now. "Our alliance lives on Thaddeus, and the day is coming when it will be even stronger than it was before. The machinations of fools and liars will not stand between a true friendship forged across the bounds of lifetimes. What we have is stronger than that."

While the tailor swirled away and departed into the depths of the shop, the goblin waited, intrigued by the notion that some of what had made his family great in the West Morres still resided here, so far from home. When he returned, bearing several bolts of wool and silk, dyed deep mulberry purple, his demeanor brightened even more, if that were possible. He laid a clawed hand on the brushed fabric, lightly stroking it as he remembered home, the clatter of the looms that wove these bolts, the acrid smell of the dyer's work as it was turned into these regal prizes.

His gaze rose to meet Thaddeus', bright and hopeful, yet aware of the serious gravity of what he was being asked to vow. His word was the word of a Baron, and that meant something to both of them, even if no one else recognized it. "It is my pledge, my honor, and my vow to you Thaddeus Vellichor, Master of Vellichor's Whimsy, that I will wear the results of your supernal craftsmanship with the pride of the past that has brought me here today, and ever with an eye to the future that past is shaping, ever mindful of my duty, my sacred responsibility to my people, to guide them into a better future than the one laid before them now. Their prosperity is mine, and my success is by their hands. That pact shall neither be forgotten, nor forsaken so long as I live."

Thaddeus Vellichor, his eyes alight with intrigue, gestured for Boorgrub to follow him to the fitting chamber. As they moved through the shop, the enigmatic owner spoke, "Your quest for a timeless piece that unites your lineage with the threads of history is a journey I am eager to embark upon, Your Grace. If you would be so kind as to stand before the Chrono-Fabrica Mirror, it shall reveal the era that resonates most profoundly with your essence."

As you comply and gaze into the ancient mirror, you feel a strange, ethereal connection to a bygone era wash over you. The mirror reflects not just your physical form but also the depths of your character and the goblin legacy passed down through generations.

---

As you stand before the mysterious Chrono-Fabrica Mirror, a strange ethereal connection washes over you. Initially bewildered, you behold the spectral visage of your father, clad in the very attire you wear now, a reflection of your forebear. Slowly, the apparition of your father separates from you, standing by your side. In a ghostly procession, your grandfather, great-grandfather, and great-great-grandfather emerge, forming a formidable lineage that encircles you. They regard you with a collective gaze of ineffable pride, acknowledging their enduring legacy.

With a synchronized shift, they turn, their spectral presence fading, and in their place, you witness the Morres, your ancestral village. Yet, it's an ancient incarnation, so vastly distinct that it appears almost alien. The familiar landmarks of your childhood are conspicuously absent, replaced by early settlers. At the heart of it all stands a magnificent temple, which, in your time, had been reduced to a crumbling ruin but now stands as a resplendent centerpiece. You realize you are witnessing a history lost to time, a primordial age.

A profound realization courses through you; you are witnessing the ancient tapestry of your homeland. As this awareness settles, the vision seamlessly transitions, and you find yourself inside the colossal stone doors of the temple. There, you observe a congregation of spellcasters harmonizing their mystical incantations. Their collective power manifests as a colossal storm cloud, an arcane tempest.

Suddenly, the perspective shifts, ascending through the temple's roof, and you watch in awe as the temple detonates in a cataclysmic burst of energy. The storm cloud expands, stretching out into a relentless deluge, inexorably advancing toward the distant ocean. Beneath the tempest's fury, the spellcasters succumb, their bodies motionless.

Amidst the maelstrom, a colossal gemstone plummets to the earth, its core aglow with flickers of lightning. Then, a seismic tremor jolts the ground, and the very earth beneath the gemstone swallows it whole. The land closes seamlessly over the precious artifact, concealing it from the annals of time once more, a fragment of history lost to the depths.

In this poignant moment, you journey through time and ancestral heritage, bearing witness to the enigmatic origins of your home and the mysterious events that have shaped your goblin lineage. The Chrono-Fabrica Mirror unveils the sacred tapestry of your past, forging an indelible connection between your essence and the timeless legacy of the Morres.

---

Meanwhile, Thaddeus created a masterpiece, every facet of the outfit a respectful nod to the Pandilk heritage. As Boorgrub stood lost in the visions of the Chrono-Fabrica Mirror, drinking in the march of ages, the fabrics flowed around his form. First to coalesce about the goblin were a sumptuous silk shirt and trousers, mulberry purple, buttoned in ivory and silver and seamed in black. Over this, boots of mirror-bright leather and a woolen vest materialized, both black as coal. Over his heart in the finest silk stitching a shield began to form, a descending triangle of mulberry over an ermine face, and three weasels, each stitched in silver and gold as the embroidering continued.

A jacket, two shades darker than the shirt, and formed of richly patterned velvet was next, the silver fastenings gleaming in the low light and offset by a pelisse of gleaming white ermine fur, clasped in place by two more shields of the House Pandilk.

As the visions and the crafting ended, Thaddeus gazed at his work. "I dare say this might be the finest outfit I have created for your family. And that might be the furthest back any of my customers have seen. I know not the import of this vision, but rest assured it is important to your quest."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:18, Fri 13 Oct 2023.

Boorgrub blinked several times, only slowly coming back to himself and awareness of anything but the mirror and its vision. Every detail seemed burned into his vision like he had been staring at the sun too long, from the detonation of the ancient temple to the long scar over the second Baron's eye Telfstatz had captured so faithfully and well. He had much to think upon, and more questions than ever, but there were clues in his visions. Answers to be had for the discerning mind.

Looking down for the first time, he took in the regal finery Vellichor had garbed him in and gasped in reverential awe. It was... Perfection. He said as much. "My grandfather had a gift for understatement it seems Master Vellichor. These garments are fit for kings and emperors, and you have seen fit to bestow them on me." He met the ancient human's gaze again, eyes full of respectful gratitude. "I am both humbled and honored, and I shall forever treat them as the finest gifts one friend can receive from another. If ever you have need of anything, small or large, and it lies within my power, it is yours simply for the asking."

He glanced back to the Chrono-Fabrica Mirror for a long moment, trying still to digest the visions it had shown him. "I have few answers at all, and many, many questions yet, but yes, I am quite certain your mirror has shown true, ties to the past and hints to the future." Boorgrub paused again, half thinking aloud. "It seems I will be returning home sooner than later."

A shake of the head, his oversized ears flapping about, and he composed himself again. "I have been given so much today already that I must seem a skinflint to ask more, and it probably needs not be said, but I must needs ask anyway. What we have witnessed here today could reshape the future of the continent, Thaddeus. While I have always served the Council, and in general, their aims are wholesome..." A long pause. "They are only people, and every man has a price. It must remain between you and I alone, until my destiny is fulfilled, for good or ill. I trust you and your discernment, but in this matter, there can not be enough caution."

The proprietor looked hurt at the implication. "Your Grace, I know it is but your first visit to my humble home, so I shall endeavor to not take offense from lack of knowledge. But know that what transpires in my fitting room is sacrosanct. Only your command, in person and under no signs of duress, would ever compel me to reveal the contents of your mirror while you were fitted."

Vellichor crosses his arms, clearly affronted at the implication.

Boorgrub's long ears fell, and he sighed gently. "I should have known better than to say anything Of course, your discretion is flawless, sirrah, and I was a fool to have even brought the matter to light. I have tasted the venom of betrayal once too often and it poisons my worldview, our family's motto notwithstanding." He shook his head and began to unbutton the jacket, marveling at how the fabric felt under his fingers in spite of himself.

"I will make sure the next Pandilk to visit your door is more careful and less oafish. Let me just change and I will be on my way."

"Of course. I will wrap the outfit for travel for you. And no hard feelings. In a perfect world, you would have known me as a child, and the nuances of my particular approach to my business would have been well established in your upbringing."

After you change back into your adventuring gear, which it only now occurs to you that you don't remember removing, Vellichor has your garments expertly folded and packed away. He embraces you warmly before you leave and escorts you to the door.

Boorgrub managed a wan smile and returned the embrace, clapping the ancient human on the back. "I would have liked that Thaddeus. My children will know the things I did not on entering your home. I thank you for your wisdom, your insights, and the masterwork you have created. I shall be back again, have no doubt of that, in hopefully a more perfect world."

The goblin slipped out the door, new garments tucked beneath his arm, and made his way back to the Inn.