Field of the Dead - Shoppe of Forgotten Mementos

[finneas]

*The youthful enrobed clergyman continues to be drawn to the displayed staff. He is careful not to touch but lowers his head to have a closer look, heeding her warning of the perils within. As he does so he tips his head to the side and appears to listen. His eyes close and his head moves about slightly as he does so, almost as if along with some unheard music. After long moments he quits, folding his hands and walking amidst the various objects. A ring draws his attention as well though not nearly so intimately as the wood called to him. He moves about the ring, looking at it from different angles. He turns to the cloaked woman and raises an eyebrow questioningly.*

"I humbly beg pardon, madame. Could I trouble you to ask about several of your items splayed out hereabouts? I am most curious about this staff and yonder ring. The staff especially calls to me. Is there anything you can tell me about their properties or history?"

*Kellan looks back toward the staff called Sliver and the Sages Serpent before returning his gaze to her, awaiting patiently her response.*

[Selande]

Seeing several people entering and leaving the building without incident the white wolf disappears below the hill.

After a while a tall man with dark brown skin and long white hair walks into the building. If not for the height and the pale blue eyes one might even mistake him for a drow. He wears a chain shirt, carries a scimitar on his belt and a small wooden shield on his back.

He looks around the humble establishment, seems in awe. Then he turns his gaze to the shop keeper, eyes glowing in the dim light.

After a few minutes he relaxes, the glow in his eyes dissipates, and he nods toward the women.
"Strong magic radiates from all those items. I would never imagine seeing such a collection in a place like this."

Then he walks off browsing the wares.

"As much as I like to know every story behind every item you have for sale, it would take you too much time off your important work" he nods toward the book in front of the women and points towards two of the wares "just tell me more of this cloak and this helmet, so I can make a reasonable offer."

/// want to buy Bloody Rag and Vigilance

The shopkeeper is idly plucking at a lute when the man enters the room. The melody heard from the outside seems to still be coming from another source, as the notes she plays are without rhythm. She continues to pluck chords as she converses with the man. "Interesting choices. Oddly enough, the owners would likely have been bitter rivals." The woman shifts her weight slightly as she peers over at the items.

"The helm is from Candlekeep, or rather someone who used to keep watch over the gates. An Earth Genasi, I believe. Rather tall, too. He used to sit with an open book and greet all the visitors."

"I imagine he never liked the idea of people tiptoeing around him." She sounds ponderous as she speaks that.

"The rags on the other hand were acquired by an assassin. I'm not sure who originally owned them, but the assassin was hired to kill this person and apparently did so. It was kept as a souvenir for a long time until they passed it on to an apprentice. That apprentice... well... failed at a task. So I acquired it when it was being sold at a bazaar."

She smirks behind her hood. "Strange that misfortune for one can be a boon for another. Or is that how it's meant to be?"

A long moment passes as she plucks a few strings in rapid procession and then speaks, "Oh, and it's either never been washed or the blood can't be washed out. I'm not sure which is true, but I didn't want to ruin the former by doing so."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...the Elf continues his viewing. "And this piece? Can you tell me about this one?"

Forsaken Idol
+3 AC
Feat:Spell Penetration
Magic Missile (5) 5/day
Req Warlock

The woman pauses her search through the tome and looks over to the idol. "Ahh. I don't really wish to say. It's highly valued to some sorts, but for rather uncouth reasons. The story is grim and telling it is supposed to be bad luck."

The shopkeeper leans back a bit as if contemplating something. "Probably not best to wear it openly around good-mannered folk as well."
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With the sudden snap of her fingers, a woman clad in crimson robes appear a few yards from the ruins. She takes a breif moment to regard the sign outside. "Most curious" she utters.

After a few catious steps up the crumbling stairs, prying in through the doorway, her gaze lands warily on the cloaked figure inside. "A locale more hospitable than one would expect in a place such as this" she says as she glances to the items set on display. "Tell me, what is this supposed to resemble?"

The shopkeeper is enjoying a goblet of wine, the large bottle nearby seems to be more than half empty. It is unlikely that the cloaked woman had drank that much by herself in any short amount of time. She seems to be gazing up through the ruined ceiling at the night sky.

She takes a long drink before responding to the woman's question. "Supposed to resemble? I'm not quite sure." She looks around at the stone ruins. "These lands are often misleading to me but if I had to guess I'd say it was once a mausoleum. I'm only basing that off of the prominence of undead in this area though. Seems a place one just gets lost and becomes a part of."

She swirls her goblet and then looks to her visitor. "Is that what you've come here for as well?"
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*The bald monk spends long moments studying the woman as she peruses her papers perhaps trying to judge the severity of her warning. Eventually the youthful man's curiosity gets the better of him and he slowly moves to look but certainly not touch the wares. After several minutes of perusal the young clergyman returns to a proximity with the lady and asks after several of the items. He stands before he for a moment before deigning to speak.*

I humbly beg pardon, milady. Might I trouble you for the history behind this staff? It would appear that If I am to have any hope of making it clear of these fields, I will have to address my recent loss.
The monk turns and looks back toward his splintered staff with a remorse due an old friend no longer able.

The cloaked woman looks up from her tome and leans forward. "Oh that. Yes. It's one of my favorites, actually. I was led to believe the wood it's carved from either doesn't exist any more or wasn't of this plane." She waves a hand dismissively. "Probably just a rare plant though."

"The story is that the person who owned it was something of a specialist wizard. Loved to travel and try out lightning spells. I actually think those were the only kind he ever had any talent for, given that it's the only type mentioned..."

She looks back down to her tome and flips through pages again. "The staff was his constant companion, however. Some say he never took a proper familiar, instead associating himself only with that staff. It does seem to share some of the mans features. You'll notice it sparks when striking a hard surface."

"I'm sure it'd would enjoy being out travelling again. I don't walk it enough." She speaks as though it were a poorly kept pet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a young dervish travels thru the fields, he notices the strange melody.
Curious as he is, he investigates its origin. After watching and doublechecking about imminent danger he approaches.
His eyes are instantly drawn to the falchion.

"That one is of masterwork quality. May i ask who it belonged to ?
And" he hesitates a moment" is there a way i might acquire it ?"

When the man enters, the shopkeeper is seated against a wall, slowly tapping a stick against several stone surfaces near her as if testing them for something. She stops when the man speaks and looks over to the falchion. "Oh that was mine from when I was young.... well.. younger. It was given as a rite of passage. I was meant to pass it down to my child but I don't really intend to have any." She begins tapping the stick against stones again.

"It is quite nice though. I was always fond of it's curves. Despite its size, it is surprisingly light."

She then holds the stick up and looks at it contemplatively. "You're supposed to be given it when you've first drawn blood but I imagine you're well past that stage already." She then breaks the tip of the stick off and tosses it aside. "Most people are, around here."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Barbaric, yet honorable..." He takes a moment of pause as if contemplating something "Even among the primitive or less developed species they know honor. It is quite a fascinating trait quality, and one that steps beyond the boundaries of perceived reality. The problem with honor often though, is how it is seen and by whom." He looks down at the gloves before looking back up, speaking in a light melodious tone. "....I would like to purchase these gloves from you, merchant. The history intrigues me as much as does the enchantment on it. Would you accept one hundred bags of gold for such a relic?"

"One hundred bags?" She ponders for a moment and then nods. "That seems a fair price. I like to think that the handwraps could still be put to a decent use. I often wondered if there would be another such as him..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Myrualae frowns for a second, reconsidering the new posibilities this issue implies. About one minute later she makes a new propposal to the shopkeeper. What would you say if I offer you two hundred bags for the choker and the rapier?

"Two hundred bags?" She idly taps on her cloaked leg as she considers, a muffled metallic rasp might be heard from the underlying chainmail. "I'd take two hundred fifty bags. I can attest to the blades sharpness. Many times I've been appraised as a more formidable combatant than I actually am when wielding the blade."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A dark hooded monk approaches, a tiefling at that... His red eyes glow at you and he reveals himself from the shadow into the moonlight. The light strikes his scaley skin and his yellowish spiky teeth as he steps into the pale moon. He points at a certain pair of gloves and hisses at you, eyes widening with a gleeful smile.

With that smile he opens a blood stained leather pouch nodding his head up and down, as if to motion that if there were any a time to spend this strange type of currency, now would certainly be the time.

He empties the content into the palm of his pale blue skinned scaley hand and displays them to you. His long black finger nails cage them from escape.

You witness a hand full of Chicken bones!!!!!

Still without saying a word he awaits your response to his strange offering

The shopkeeper watches the man curiously, her tome in her lap. When offered the bones she leans forward to examine them. "I've no real need for any more bones. If it were a year or two ago, I'd be interested..." She then looks towards whatever gloves he pointed at and then back to him, wondering if he had anything else to trade.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Loriah, Morninglord of Lathander, can be seen dispatching the dead in the crypt in between and around customers on her usual rounds. She looks in the room where the merchant is, not much caring who she is or what she's selling. Her focus completely on the undead if any are around....*

Everything alright in here?

*she says as her gaze scans the room.*

The shopkeeper looks up from her tome at the woman and nods affirmatively. "Is there reason it wouldn't be?"

She leans to the side a bit as if trying to see the outside around the woman. "It's probably safe. Here and out there... for a little ways anyways."

[finneas]

*The young Kellan smiles faintly through his unruly beard as the woman relYs the tale of the staff's last owner. He turns to look at the unique wooden implement and turns back to the mysterious merchant once more.*

"An arcanist I am not, milady and certainly no bringer of storms. Still, I am on my first pilgrimage out of the cloister and have many leagues to travel before these feet find rest at hearth and home. Do you believe this stave would accept the wide wanderings of one of Lathander's initiates? Perhaps we two could have further stories to tell?"

[gallimar]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A dark hooded monk approaches, a tiefling at that... His red eyes glow at you and he reveals himself from the shadow into the moonlight. The light strikes his scaley skin and his yellowish spiky teeth as he steps into the pale moon. He points at a certain pair of gloves and hisses at you, eyes widening with a gleeful smile.

With that smile he opens a blood stained leather pouch nodding his head up and down, as if to motion that if there were any a time to spend this strange type of currency, now would certainly be the time.

He empties the content into the palm of his pale blue skinned scaley hand and displays them to you. His long black finger nails cage them from escape.

You witness a hand full of Chicken bones!!!!!

Still without saying a word he awaits your response to his strange offering

The shopkeeper watches the man curiously, her tome in her lap. When offered the bones she leans forward to examine them. "I've no real need for any more bones. If it were a year or two ago, I'd be interested..." She then looks towards whatever gloves he pointed at and then back to him, wondering if he had anything else to trade.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His face suddenly drops and the smile dissipates into a confused unhappy one as he looks at his offering in disbelief that it has been refused. He hunches and turns his back over his hands as he packs the bones back into his leather pouch muttering to himself curses that can not be deciphered.

He takes one last look at you and Hisses and walks off, hurriedly in a huff. The trade has not been a success

You manage to spot a Wizard ring looped through some string that hangs from his belt. Do you call him back to see it closer......?

//////just here for the RP, I dont have anything worth anything unless your a wizard
+3 Intel, Wizard Slot lvl5, 22 Spell Resistance, only usuable by wizard or UMD

[LISA100595]

*Loriah, Morninglord of Lathander, can be seen dispatching the dead in the crypt in between and around customers on her usual rounds. She looks in the room where the merchant is, not much caring who she is or what she's selling. Her focus completely on the undead if any are around....*

Everything alright in here?

*she says as her gaze scans the room.*

The shopkeeper looks up from her tome at the woman and nods affirmatively. "Is there reason it wouldn't be?"

She leans to the side a bit as if trying to see the outside around the woman. "It's probably safe. Here and out there... for a little ways anyways."

*she does a double take behind herself then back to the woman*

Just doing my rounds... Loriah, Morninglord... its my job, my life, pretty much my soul reason for existing... that is, sending the undead to their final rest.

*said happily as she smiles*

Yell if you need me...

*She waves then heads back out into the dark halls of the crypt continuing her rounds*

[zyztem]

The shopkeeper is idly plucking at a lute when the man enters the room. The melody heard from the outside seems to still be coming from another source, as the notes she plays are without rhythm. She continues to pluck chords as she converses with the man. "Interesting choices. Oddly enough, the owners would likely have been bitter rivals." The woman shifts her weight slightly as she peers over at the items.

"The helm is from Candlekeep, or rather someone who used to keep watch over the gates. An Earth Genasi, I believe. Rather tall, too. He used to sit with an open book and greet all the visitors."

"I imagine he never liked the idea of people tiptoeing around him." She sounds ponderous as she speaks that.

"The rags on the other hand were acquired by an assassin. I'm not sure who originally owned them, but the assassin was hired to kill this person and apparently did so. It was kept as a souvenir for a long time until they passed it on to an apprentice. That apprentice... well... failed at a task. So I acquired it when it was being sold at a bazaar."

She smirks behind her hood. "Strange that misfortune for one can be a boon for another. Or is that how it's meant to be?"

A long moment passes as she plucks a few strings in rapid procession and then speaks, "Oh, and it's either never been washed or the blood can't be washed out. I'm not sure which is true, but I didn't want to ruin the former by doing so."

The man seems to be lost in thought for a brief moment after hearing the tales.
'There is no perpetual predator, even the strongest falls. The old always make way for the new, the weak always fall prey to the strong, and the cycle goes on."

The white haired man turns his eyes toward the helmet and nods.
"I would like to put on the helmet and start its new tale, may only the most cunning foe take my life."

Then he walks to the cloak to examine it more closely.
"The blood will fade over time, I am certain of it. May it keep protecting the strong while failing the incompetent."

After a moment of consideration he told the shopkeeper.
"I would like to buy the helmet, and keep my future assassins from the cloak" He chuckled, "200 bags for both items"

[Nayriak]

...the Elf continues his viewing. "And this piece? Can you tell me about this one?"

Forsaken Idol
+3 AC
Feat:Spell Penetration
Magic Missile (5) 5/day
Req Warlock

The woman pauses her search through the tome and looks over to the idol. "Ahh. I don't really wish to say. It's highly valued to some sorts, but for rather uncouth reasons. The story is grim and telling it is supposed to be bad luck."

The shopkeeper leans back a bit as if contemplating something. "Probably not best to wear it openly around good-mannered folk as well."

The elf nods, eyeing the piece and listening to her words. "I shall pass then. Pieces of ill fortune are the for a purpose. None of which entwine with mine."

"One hundred bags?" She ponders for a moment and then nods. "That seems a fair price. I like to think that the handwraps could still be put to a decent use. I often wondered if there would be another such as him..."

He smiles serenely, nodding as she continued on. "Very well, a hundred bags it is. As toward the purpose? Well.." He speaks in an almost childlike glee and with a grin on his face. "...I am sure it will serve it's purpose when chasing under the stars".

[freekender]

"Two hundred bags?" She idly taps on her cloaked leg as she considers, a muffled metallic rasp might be heard from the underlying chainmail. "I'd take two hundred fifty bags. I can attest to the blades sharpness. Many times I've been appraised as a more formidable combatant than I actually am when wielding the blade."

Myrualae frowns, considering the offer. 250 bags it's maybe a bit... excesive for the blade and the choker... She remains silent, thinking as she frowns deeper. I can offer you 225 bags for both items, she finally says. That's a huge amount of gold.

[duracele]

As the dwarf is about to exit the structure he hears the traders words.
"Ya can tell dat messunger ask for Khentor. I can be found at the auction everyday. If my stock catches your eye i am sure we can strike a deal. You have a lot of interesting wares."

[Selande]

* Mendel turns and looks at the hooded figure *

"History? Nothing that I can remember. Most of the blades I offered you, I acquired them a long time ago and I dont remember much about them. This greatsword however, I traded for it recently. A bard... one of the Darius brothers... Fungi... No Fingal, yes thats the name, Fingal Darius.

I traded this greatsword from him so that would be the man to ask about its history if you ever meet with him"

* he kneels to pick the cloak the offers her the swords *

The shopkeeper writes down the name on a scrap piece of paper. "I'll have to ask him should we ever meet." She offers Mendel a seated bow as they exchange items.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With a crackle of light a whiff of ozone the faint sent of flower and fresh alfalfa drifts in shortly after that a man merchant and planes walker Reflex walk in looks over the stuff hmmm that looks interesting I know some one that might want that. Points down at the clothing dose that enchantment on those protect from blows making it like armor
If so I Have a contact that will not be named that came into some pally gear he said he took it off a paladin after a monster kill the paladin but who know why ask such question

any ways what are you looking for those dark garb he I will arrange a trade he well my contact always can find good stuff to trade and if not trade what kind of price in coin *show a lot of bags of coin * this is just to let you know I am real * hides them again under his cape*
thanks let me know what you think

The shopkeeper tilts her head at the mans request. "Those dark clothes you mean?" She gestures towards them. "I couldn't accept gold for them, but it is good to see that you are serious about making a trade."

She taps a finger on her tome while she considers. "You mentioned a dead paladin's equipment? Might I have a look at what remains?"
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*The youthful enrobed clergyman continues to be drawn to the displayed staff. He is careful not to touch but lowers his head to have a closer look, heeding her warning of the perils within. As he does so he tips his head to the side and appears to listen. His eyes close and his head moves about slightly as he does so, almost as if along with some unheard music. After long moments he quits, folding his hands and walking amidst the various objects. A ring draws his attention as well though not nearly so intimately as the wood called to him. He moves about the ring, looking at it from different angles. He turns to the cloaked woman and raises an eyebrow questioningly.*

"I humbly beg pardon, madame. Could I trouble you to ask about several of your items splayed out hereabouts? I am most curious about this staff and yonder ring. The staff especially calls to me. Is there anything you can tell me about their properties or history?"

*Kellan looks back toward the staff called Sliver and the Sages Serpent before returning his gaze to her, awaiting patiently her response.*

*The young Kellan smiles faintly through his unruly beard as the woman relYs the tale of the staff's last owner. He turns to look at the unique wooden implement and turns back to the mysterious merchant once more.*

"An arcanist I am not, milady and certainly no bringer of storms. Still, I am on my first pilgrimage out of the cloister and have many leagues to travel before these feet find rest at hearth and home. Do you believe this stave would accept the wide wanderings of one of Lathander's initiates? Perhaps we two could have further stories to tell?"

The hooded woman shifts her weight as she recalls the tale of the ring. "Some stories say that there are people who seek to gaze over all that was ever created. Whether to keep watch or potentially exploit or just pursuit of knowledge, they seek places of solitude so that they can expand their minds ever further. I was told that this ring once helped aid the work of one such individual."

"I don't know anything about the person it belonged to other than that. The ring, however, is specifically attuned to the forests. I've only ever known one other ring like it. It too was attuned with nature, in that case, a river."

She absently caresses her gloved left hand as though feeling for a ring beneath that is no longer there. "The staff yearns to journey, yes. If that is your intent, I'm sure it will readily accompany you."

The woman considers for a moment. "The two do seem rather well suited for you. Moreso than others who have visited and asked about my wares."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His face suddenly drops and the smile dissipates into a confused unhappy one as he looks at his offering in disbelief that it has been refused. He hunches and turns his back over his hands as he packs the bones back into his leather pouch muttering to himself curses that can not be deciphered.

He takes one last look at you and Hisses and walks off, hurriedly in a huff. The trade has not been a success

You manage to spot a Wizard ring looped through some string that hangs from his belt. Do you call him back to see it closer......?

The shopkeeper either doesn't notice the ring, isn't interested enough to inquire, or is simply still perplexed by the mans peculiar mannerisms. She lets the man leave in his huff with a slight sense of disappointment about her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*she does a double take behind herself then back to the woman*

Just doing my rounds... Loriah, Morninglord... its my job, my life, pretty much my soul reason for existing... that is, sending the undead to their final rest.

*said happily as she smiles*

Yell if you need me...

*She waves then heads back out into the dark halls of the crypt continuing her rounds*

The shopkeeper offers the Morninglord a polite nod as they depart, feeling somewhat caught offguard by the suddenness of their visit. Alone, she taps a finger on her tome as she considers the encounter and then flips a few pages to scribble a bit of writing.

A short while later she gets up to go about tending to the wards of the place. The shadows viewed from afar, the unseen melody, the minor warding to help keep the weather out, and lastly the candles she has about for illumination. The woman then stretches and sits back down for another lengthy review of her tome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man seems to be lost in thought for a brief moment after hearing the tales.
'There is no perpetual predator, even the strongest falls. The old always make way for the new, the weak always fall prey to the strong, and the cycle goes on."

The white haired man turns his eyes toward the helmet and nods.
"I would like to put on the helmet and start its new tale, may only the most cunning foe take my life."

Then he walks to the cloak to examine it more closely.
"The blood will fade over time, I am certain of it. May it keep protecting the strong while failing the incompetent."

After a moment of consideration he told the shopkeeper.
"I would like to buy the helmet, and keep my future assassins from the cloak" He chuckled, "200 bags for both items"

The woman listens patiently as the man speaks of each item, nodding in agreeance at his conclusions. She takes a moment to consider his offer and idly curls the corner of her current page between two fingers. "I think together I paid nearly half that again for them originally. I am looking to lighten my pack, however. Two hundred seventy bags would be a friendly price for them. Though in truth, I'm perhaps looking for similar items as you for my own needs."

She stops fidgeting with the page. "Gold is nice enough to hire assistance from time to time but not quite as useful as something to get yourself by alone. If you happen to have items of these sorts you're holding to sell at another time, I might be interested in a trade instead." She looks down at her gloved hand as though inspecting for dirt, concerned about smudging it in her tome. "It often seems that men such as yourself come by such things regularly."
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The elf nods, eyeing the piece and listening to her words. "I shall pass then. Pieces of ill fortune are the for a purpose. None of which entwine with mine."

He smiles serenely, nodding as she continued on. "Very well, a hundred bags it is. As toward the purpose? Well.." He speaks in an almost childlike glee and with a grin on his face. "...I am sure it will serve it's purpose when chasing under the stars".

The shopkeeper tilts her head curiously, perhaps not understanding what the elf means but she nods anyways. "I hope they serve you well. Feel free to take them. You're of course welcome to return any time you wish." She speaks earnestly to the man.
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Myrualae frowns, considering the offer. 250 bags it's maybe a bit... excesive for the blade and the choker... She remains silent, thinking as she frowns deeper. I can offer you 225 bags for both items, she finally says. That's a huge amount of gold.

The woman sighs and then nods. "Very well. I will accept that offer." She brushes something unseen off her tome meticulously. "A strange combination of items though I can see some utility in their new shared venture. I hope to one day hear of their tales once more."
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As the dwarf is about to exit the structure he hears the traders words.
"Ya can tell dat messunger ask for Khentor. I can be found at the auction everyday. If my stock catches your eye i am sure we can strike a deal. You have a lot of interesting wares."

The woman writes the name down on the back of the list she was given, writing a few extra lines of memo to herself as well.

[finneas]

*Young Kellan listens attentively as the mysterious merchant relays the tales regarding the items after which he has asked. A faint smile parts his ever unruly beard as her musings seem to display a deep passion behind each artifact. As she finishes weaving her tales he hesitates, his lack of self confidence plain, before finally mustering the gumption to ask one final question.*

"Milady... Milady I would ask if there is some way I might procure these two items from your collection. I am not so presumptuous as to expect I will do them the service their rich history so justly deserves. I do, however, promise that as each day brings a new dawn, so will I struggle each and every one of those dawns, from this one to the last until the Lord of Light calls me home, I will strive to expand their stories and make record of their deeds under the light."

*The young priest looks almost forlorn at his lengthy response, surprising even himself as the promise spills forth from his bearded lips. He lowers his eyes, raising one hand to rub his bald brow from forehead to nape of neck, nervousness rampant in the gesture.*

[Selande]

*Young Kellan listens attentively as the mysterious merchant relays the tales regarding the items after which he has asked. A faint smile parts his ever unruly beard as her musings seem to display a deep passion behind each artifact. As she finishes weaving her tales he hesitates, his lack of self confidence plain, before finally mustering the gumption to ask one final question.*

"Milady... Milady I would ask if there is some way I might procure these two items from your collection. I am not so presumptuous as to expect I will do them the service their rich history so justly deserves. I do, however, promise that as each day brings a new dawn, so will I struggle each and every one of those dawns, from this one to the last until the Lord of Light calls me home, I will strive to expand their stories and make record of their deeds under the light."

*The young priest looks almost forlorn at his lengthy response, surprising even himself as the promise spills forth from his bearded lips. He lowers his eyes, raising one hand to rub his bald brow from forehead to nape of neck, nervousness rampant in the gesture.*

The woman tilts her head as he speaks. Looking the man over briefly before she responds, "You must have some acquaintance with holy warriors, given your demeanor and chosen path. I'm looking for some things that might be used by those such individuals. Specifically a sword, though I'm open to other suggestions."

She adjusts her large cloak as if it had become uncomfortable for her. "Though I suppose gold might be an appropriate medium as well. It sometimes has a use or two."

[finneas]

*A hint of pained dismay crosses Kellan's pious features as the woman makes her wishes plain.*

"Alas milady, I possess no such blade. The weapons of my order are tools firstly, only serving as weapons as a matter of last resort. Swords and weapons of war are but vaguely known to me. I could offer you a sum of coin for the items, as the High Dawnknight has bid me equip myself to serve the temple afield and has granted me resources for such. Whether you will take coin or not, if you wish it, I will ask the high clergy if they possess a blade such as that which you seek and if so, if they wish to trade such a weapon."

[matelener]

Overhearing the rumours of an unusual sale taking place in the fields of the dead, a city merchant, Damian Valsarez, hires few well-armed men to escort him to the point of interest. The following days spent traveling through the land of bones turned the usually lively man into a bundle of nerves anticipating all kinds of unfortunate scenarios.

Upon seeing the sign, the trader sighs with relief knowing he safely reached his destination. He motions to the guards to stay outside as he enters the ruin.

"Salutations." He greets the shop keeper with a proper bow as soon as he is noticed.

"Miss Zeda, yes? I'm glad to be meeting you. Damian, my name." His eyes chaotically travel around the interior hinting some uneasiness still lingering from the journey.

"I've been hearing words of truely matchless wares in your possession and so it seems... the words were no lies. I've come to offer three hundred thousand for the pair of exotic blades and the mantle." He points to each of the mentioned items.

"I also have something of mine that might pique your interest. It is a five and a half foot long sword rumoured to be found in a tomb of an anaurian champion. The blade was named Ixurvhaen, the Blood Drinker, as it seems to thirst for the lifeforces of whoever crosses its wielder. The unholy aura surrounding it is enough to send shivers down the spine..."

He then lays a parchment on the table which contains the drawings of blade's runes and the explanation of their significance.

"Should you be interested, I would take pleasure in exchanging it for something of similar value, and perhaps less ominous. This list specifies my needs further." He draws another parchment from his bag and lays it beside the other.

[TheKai]

A little gnome dressed in shimmering robes and radiating an aura of protective magic makes his way to the ruined structure of the merchant. He slowly approaches and peers in. "Well now, i guess the rumors are true! A merchant here, in this particular location of all places. I would not believe it if I did not see it with my own eyes."

He looks around the structure a bit more, before examining the items. He takes quite a few glances behind him, as if paranoid or apprehensive.

"Well greetins to ya, trader! Word spread far south of your wares. Quite impressive indeed, i must agree. The tales did not do these artifacts justice." He then points to the warlock only amulet. "This one draws me. Would you take gold for this one? An offer of...80 bags, perhaps?"