Born in Grimblethorpe and never needing to set a foot elsewhere, Devlin is not a man to be moved. Stoneworker by trade, big stuff, mostly. Boundary markers, troughs, lintels if you catch him in a good mood. Doesn’t take to the fiddly things, or so he says. His workshop sits where the quarry meets the tree line.
Devlin drinks at the Axe and Pick, keeps mostly to himself unless there’s talk of stone, then you won’t shut him up. Doesn’t ask too many questions about where a thing’s from, so long as it’s clean cut and paid for fair. He’s got a good hand and a better eye, and more than one trader’s kept him in mind for when silver’s heavy and the work’s quiet.
They say if you want something carved and kept quiet, Devlin’s your man. Just don’t waste his time.