Aged and frumpy, old Grafton blinks owlishly from behind his glasses. He smells of the tanned hides he sews, and flecks of precious metal leaf cling to his cuffs. Medium height and thin build with long white hair in the few places he has hair anymore. His pockmarked face has settled to squinty eyes and a tight-lipped grin.
Trained by his own father, and an elder member of the Bookbinder’s Guild, he partnered for many decades with his good friend Martimus Barton, a bookseller on St. Beryl’s Square. Barton bought libraries at estate auctions and Johnlouis would re-bind the most ancient volues for resale at premium prices. His way with gilding made his work highly coveted among book collectors, and in his prime he rendered bindings that stood on their own as materworks of embossed leather and embellishment.
After Barton’s death he took over their shop along with his daughter, Theyra. He has taught her everything he knows and directs her work when his eyes are tired or his hands shake too much. His shop has become more like a personal collection, and he knows every book and its contents. His great comfort is having some of his friends over in the evenings to drink port and talk about ... books.
Leathworking equipment, large sewing needle, Fabulous Knowledge of Literature.
Grafton is a kindly soul, and extremely helpful. He is useful for looking up obscure facts or finding ancient maps bound in with other texts.