Celebrimbor

“Now, close your eyes.”
The hardened Imperial warrior grunted. He didn’t want to — he didn’t trust this fancy Coatl half as far as he could throw him.
“Why? I didn’t sign up for any magic tricks.”
“You’ll love it,” Celebrimbor said breathlessly. “Just trust me.”
The Imp shut his eyes and felt something light and silky cross his left paw. When he opened his eyes, a bright blue ribbon was tied to it.
He was going to object to this symbol of femininity, but found…he couldn’t. He opened his mouth and it stayed open. He was mesmerized by all the colors within the ribbon, thousands of blues and aquamarines. It looked like a galaxy there in his palm, shining in the faint candlelight.
“There.” Celebrimbor giggled. “That should help you relax. That’ll be twenty-thousand treasure.”
Slack-jawed, the Imperial handed the Coatl his wallet and stumbled out the door.
Celebrimbor chuckled softly and took half of all the money inside. Then he rushed out of his door and flagged the Imperial down, apologizing profusely, and returning the rest. He said he’d given the Imperial a special discount.
And, as with all of his clients, the Imperial never returned to complain.


Mysticism and cloth-making are not as strange a combination as it may seem.
Clan Open Maw all agree that coats woven by the Coatl are extra warm and durable. The secularists attribute this to Celebrimbor’s use of scavenged snow-wolf fur fibers. Meanwhile, his elegant silk gowns are in demand, as they are said to be good luck for brides. The gowns keep their husbands faithful and eternally invested in their beauty — a rare thing among the savages in the Wyrmwound.
His brisk clothing trade (among other things) has made Celebrimbor a very wealthy dragon. Despite this, he doesn’t spend much treasure on himself — aside from the occasional bottle of summery wine from the south, or new steel needles.
Instead, he likes to call his associates together every week at the inn, where he throws lavish and luxurious parties.
Those who spend coin on his wares may find a partial refund in the form of spiced ale, meat, and companionship.
All of this good cheer goes a long way toward dispelling a particularly troublesome rumor:
If you gaze at the shifting patterns of light on Celebrimbor’s threads too much, you’ll have a vision of your own death.
It is worth noting that the Coatl himself says nothing to the contrary.