[RPG] The Black Scythe of Slaying.
Chuong Huynh
chuongbm at gmail.com
Sat Jun 2 17:42:44 CEST 2007
Gwaethinriel came upon an odd fellow during her investigations for undead
and monster activity in Arrmol. He sat on and old log tinkering, but with
what she couldn't see clearly. She approached him but he cut her off before
she could speak. "Your one of them adventuring types, aren't you. Well there
are no undead or monsters around here. I know what you're after. If you
leave the undead and monster for my stomach, I can craft one for you with
that flintstone there. However I need one other item, some large antlers. If
you can bring them to me before dinner I will have an item for you."
Gwaethinriel called to Xyola, the two always stayed within earshot of each
other. Xyola produced a pair of antlers. The man fiddled with the flint
stone, trying to the light a fire. "You two standing there make me nervous.
Now I must be going or my dinner will be cold" He handed the items back to
Gwaethinriel and Xyola, leaving them in the clearing baffled as he
disappeared into the dense foliage.
On their return trip after scouring the region, they saw the man again,
sitting on the same log. "Ah there you are, I would have invited you to
dinner but undead and monsters are scarce in this area. Now you still have
the antlers and flint stone don't you." He took out a sack of white powder
and poured it on the grass and lit it with the flintstone. "This is much
easier on a full stomach." he said as a brilliant black flame erupted on the
spot. Gwaethinriel and Xyola watched in amazement as he passed the antlers
through the flame, melting and moulding them with his hands. Then he shaped
the flint stone in the flame into a sleek curved blade. The two items now
charred black and melded together formed a formidable weapon, The Black
Scythe of Slaying.
Gwaethinriel held the scythe, charred black yet polished and surprisingly
cool to the touch. Glimpses of her pass came flowing back as she held the
weapon, the undead, the chaos, the abandonment, the loneliness. She gripped
the scythe and vowed to purge the undead from the land.
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