Overview & Personality
Cornellius Rastor is a weathered, battle-scarred veteran who has traded the bloody battlefields of the Empire for the cutthroat mercantile arena of Delver’s Square. While his official name is Cornellius, he absolutely loathes it; he considers it far too formal for a man who speaks in cold steel, and he insists that everyone—from street urchins to the merchant princes of the Council of Coin—calls him simply Rastor.
Rastor is a man defined by heavy silences, blunt speech, and a deep, intuitive understanding of martial balance. He treats weapons not as flashy art pieces or high-society status symbols, but as the literal line between survival and a shallow grave in the Necropolis. He has a rough, gravelly voice and a sharp, critical eye that can spot a micro-fracture in a sword hilt or a poorly tempered crossguard from across the room. While he can come across as gruff, cynical, and utterly humorless, the dungeoneering community respects him immensely. Rastor doesn’t play games, he doesn’t inflate his prices with flowery sales pitches, and he will never look a green adventurer in the eye and sell them a weapon he wouldn’t trust to guard his own back.
Physical Appearance
Rastor looks exactly like the life he has led. He is a broad-shouldered, barrel-chested human of traditional Empire stock, his skin leathered by years of campfires and ocean salt. His salt-and-pepper hair is cut short and uneven, and a prominent, jagged white scar cuts a path from his left temple down across his cheekbone—a parting gift from a goblin scimitar decades ago.
His most defining physical trait is his left leg, which was taken off below the knee during an imperial siege. Instead of a standard, fragile wooden peg, Rastor sports a heavy, custom-forged iron and darkwood prosthetic. He moves around his shop with a rhythmic, heavy clank-thud that gives everyone in the square fair warning of his approach. He typically wears a heavy, grease-stained leather smithing apron over plain, hard-wearing wool clothes, with a pair of fine, steel-reinforced gloves permanently tucked into his belt.
The Party’s Relationship & Dynamic
For your party, Rastor is the pragmatic muscle of Delver’s Square commerce. He treats them with a gruff but genuine professional respect, especially as they prove they aren’t just decorative surface-dwellers.
What Rastor Will Do For the Party:
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The Reliable Armorer: He sells common traditional weapons up to Item Level 8, specializing in masterwork craftsmanship, cold iron, and silver weapons perfectly suited to bypass the resistances of dungeon terrors.
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Used Gear Liquidation: Through his Iron Alliance partnership with Jeron at the Bull and Bear, Rastor will evaluate and buy used magical or mundane martial weapons salvaged by the party at a flat 50% of market value, providing an easy cash pipeline for their extra battlefield loot.
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The Iron Token: Whenever the party buys a primary martial weapon from him, he slips them a stamped iron token, granting them a 5% discount on custom armor refitting across the square at the Bull and Bear.
What Rastor Will NOT Do:
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No Soft Goods: If the party walks in looking for spell scrolls, magical rings, or silk ropes, Rastor will merely point a calloused finger out the window toward Myraeth’s Oddities or Ebbert’s Outfitters.
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No Free Handouts: He doesn’t offer lines of credit to “unproven blood.” If the party is short on gold pieces, Rastor will happily hold a weapon for them under a strict layout plan, but it doesn’t leave his high-security racks until the last copper is paid.