Eyes Of The Lich Queen

[DEFCON 1]

The two elves walk into a blacksmithing shop, where the sounds of hammering can be heard in the back. As they entered, they noticed that this shop does indeed have the symbol for House Cannith hanging from the sign out front... so obviously the quality and fair-mindedness of dealings should be present.

Jina doesn't reply to her brother's statement right away, and Jango gets drawn into a conversation with the shop owner almost immediately upon entering. The man is human, wearing a ragged and dirty tunic, and his face is streaked with sweat and soot. No dragonmark is immediately present, but he does wear a chain around his neck that hangs the symbol for the Fabricator's Guild. So at the very least, he's a member of the guild.

The smith walks over from overseeing the two young apprentices that are hammering away on glowing-red steel, and begins speaking in a tired, but pleasant voice. "Here now... this is the Tinsnip Smithy. What can I do you for?"

 

[DEFCON 1]

"Brother Ellston, we've only been gone a few weeks. What's going on here?"

Tod sighs and ushers the three adventurers into the temple. "Mourning services. Five days. Nevillom didn't make it."

Ellston brings the group into one of the back areas of the temple and relates the story about how Elder Nevillom grew increasingly despondent over the days past when his "crusade" had failed. Sur'Kil (back in the guise of Zendarrill Lorren) tried to explain, reason, and reassure the Silver Flame leader... but his anger, resentment, paranoia, and weakness continued to get the better of him. Even when the shifter paladin Cerril Maise spent the entire journey back to Newthrone from the woods at his side, trying to reestablish his faith... his mind just drew further and further away. By the time they got back to the city, Nevillom's mental stability was almost completely lost.

Over the next week Nevillom seemed to shrink upon himself... his babbling about seeing werecreatures around every corner getting worse. Friends and colleagues from back in Wyrmwatch came out to try and bring him back, but his descent only continued. Finally, three days ago he was found in his bed, having died in his sleep. A Jorasco healer declared that he passed due to the extreme loss of his faith.

"So we've set up a five day mourning period for the Elder, so that all the devout in Q'Barra can come here to pay their respects if they wanted. We're in Day 2... and it's still going strong. People knew the name of Samuel Nevillom, even if they never knew the man... and respect for the name and position is what's bringing them out of the woodwork it seems."

 

[Velmont]

"We have a suit of armor, and a great club to sell. Both are of high quality and have been enchanted. The enchantment is pretty basic, but it's make them valuable enough." tells Jango.

Jina put down the armor and the greatclub. "Would you be interested to buy them?"

 

[jkason]

Brother Donovan, warpriestly human cleric

Over the next week Nevillom seemed to shrink upon himself... his babbling about seeing werecreatures around every corner getting worse. Friends and colleagues from back in Wyrmwatch came out to try and bring him back, but his descent only continued. Finally, three days ago he was found in his bed, having died in his sleep. A Jorasco healer declared that he passed due to the extreme loss of his faith.

"So we've set up a five day mourning period for the Elder, so that all the devout in Q'Barra can come here to pay their respects if they wanted. We're in Day 2... and it's still going strong. People knew the name of Samuel Nevillom, even if they never knew the man... and respect for the name and position is what's bringing them out of the woodwork it seems."

Donovan stands silent a moment, looking back and forth between the line of mourners, the temple, Khalia, and Tod. Finally, he shakes his head.

"A sad end, may The Flame embrace him again," he says. "We, too, should pay homage," Donovan suggests, "Though I think we should clean ourselves first; however he ended, he deserves to see respect in his passing. We must, too, speak with Zendarrill Lorren. Have you seen him, brother?"

 

[DEFCON 1]

"We have a suit of armor, and a great club to sell. Both are of high quality and have been enchanted. The enchantment is pretty basic, but it's make them valuable enough. Would you be interested to buy them?"

The smithy motions to let him look at the two items, and when Jango hands them over to him, he immediately hefts the greatclub in both hands. He takes some practice swings with it... the whishing sound of air flying by as he does... and he ends with a flourishing flip of the weapon in his hand. He then takes the breastplate and begins checking its straps and wrapping his knuckles against the metal.

After a few minutes of examination, he then turns back to the Silversun twins. "First things first... where'd you get these items? I don't deal with stolen merchandise."

 

[DEFCON 1]

Rogan and Ari begin walking down Galifar Way... and the rogue mentions they will be turning right down a side street in a few minutes. However, with ever single step the itching on the back of his thigh starts getting worse, and soon it is joined with a heat... a burn... that he's never experienced before. He tries his best to ignore it... fighting the urge to reach and scratch. Finally, the two of them reach the street they need... with Ari noting to himself it looks more like a wide alley than a street. Rogan says that #9 is up and on the right.

As Rogan steps forward to enter the alley/street... the monster hunter's sharp eyes notice him surreptitiously reaching for the back of his leg.

 

[Velmont]

"I understand your concerns. They were the proprieties of a lizardman who has searched trouble with us. My sister and I come from Seawell, and the lizardmen there are not friendly with our village. It's not always peace. It is not a stolen good, it is a loot of war. We hope to get some ressources to help us holding against them." explains Jango. He didn't wanted to bring questions about there trip to the temple, it seems more people then he wanted to have learn there trip, no need to spread the word more.

 

[Mista Collins]

When the itching becomes a burning feeling and is no longer soothed with a simple scratch, Rogan stops a moment. "My left leg is burning! I think I might have gotten some sort of rash or contracted something from the jungle," he says to Ari before continuing. "Don't mind me, I really need to check this out."

The Daggerspell Guardian then proceeds to pull up his left pant legs as high as possible in hopes of finding the source of the burning sensation as thoughts go through his mind. This is odd. I had spent quite sometime with the Guardians in the jungle before the trip to the Temple of Kha'shazul and now I contract something?

 

[stonegod]

Ari pushes Rogan forward, clear of the street, making sure there are no lookey-lou's while the Guardian checks himself.

 

[DEFCON 1]

"I understand your concerns. They were the proprieties of a lizardman who has searched trouble with us. My sister and I come from Seawell, and the lizardmen there are not friendly with our village. It's not always peace. It is not a stolen good, it is a loot of war. We hope to get some ressources to help us holding against them."

As soon as Jango says the word 'lizardman', the muscles in the man's face immediately relax. Dealing with lizardfolk is almost a rite of passage for anyone who lives in the province of Q'Barra, and this smith is no different. His eyes immediately go back to the breastplate and he does a little bit of quick analysis... and he finds that yep, the size and placement of straps on the armor are definitely set for someone of blackscale size. Quite a bit larger than the typical armor you would find around town.

"Looks about right, my boy. Blackscale I'd imagine, yeah? Big one, that's for sure. Sorry for the question... but we get the occasional Xen'drik poacher through here trying to pawn stuff when they know that Sharn officials would be all over their asses. But the blackscale story sits right with me."

He takes a few moments to readjust the straps on the breastplate to make it a little less wide. If he has hopes of re-selling it, he has to make sure he can make it fit someone a foot or two smaller than your typical blackscale lizardfolk. Jango and Jina wait patiently for his work to end, and then the smithy takes a few moments to write out some numbers on a piece of parchment with a slab of charcoal.

"Here's what I can do for you. 750 for the armor... 750 for the club. Unfortunately clubs just don't have much value... people just don't want them... not when you can purchase a solid steel morningstar or sword instead. But because the breastplate is larger than normal and there's a number of Tharashk mercs through the city that could always use it... I upped the price to give you on that.

So 1500 for the pair."

The smith then pauses to hear the response.