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ResourceSkilling
StackableConsumable
A fist-sized chunk of copper ore, dull grey rock streaked with veins of greenish malachite and the occasional hairline of bright native metal. Heavier than expected, the way most honest stones are.
Entry
Chronicle
Pulled from the shallow shafts out on the eastern ridges, where the veins run close enough to the surface that a careful hand can work a face with a short hammer. Smelters render the green streaks out as copper and flux, and reserve the cleanest ore for the bells and the cookware the masters are willing to put their own stamp on. The trade runs old, predictable, and unromantic, which is exactly why every city still has a copper quarter.