- Messages
- 229
- Character Biography
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Rainie’s smiling expression slowly smoothed into a blank look as the wizard’s words registered. Consecrated, silver blade…. She turned a bit pale at the implication. Faurosk was her buyer. And he wanted the blade she was not allowed to want anything to do with. Her lavender eyes were fixed on his, wide and empty.
It was then that she watched him put the pieces together. He stopped mid sentence and returned her look dully, practically muttering his own epiphany.
Wordlessly, the bard leaned over and rifled through her bag. She withdrew the small knife with no semblance of presentation or flourish; she simply placed it on the table with a metallic thud.
The wooden sheath was decorated sparsely with holy, protective runes. The hilt was wrapped in black leather and the pommel proudly displayed the Templar symbol. Rainie was no holy woman, or even a practitioner of magic, but even she could sense the hallowed light the weapon exuded.
Expressionless, she reached for it and unsheathed it, flashing the pure silver blade in the dim fire light. More runes were engraved on the blade, swirling and delicate and beautiful. The blade had once belonged to a slain templar, then moved from hand to hand until it ended up in the hands of Rainie’s mark... She had known better than to steal it as well, but the temptation had been too much.
She couldn’t let Eila see it. She didn’t think the lich guards would even let her back into the stronghold if she had it.
All the merchants in town had lowballed her for the selling price. Rainie knew a scam when she heard one. It was why she still clung to the item, despite her desperate need to get rid of it.
The bard didn’t even realize she was chewing on her lip. With the blade in her hand, she pressed the tip lightly into her fingertip. With the barest amount of pressure, the deadly sharp blade managed to draw a bead of blood.
Noisily, she cleared her throat. “Well,” she allowed, “you won’t find a sharper blade.” And then she smirked privately at her own self-loathing joke. She swiped her bleeding finger along the flat of the blade. “But there, now it’s corrupted, right?”
Smiling, she offered the blade to Faurosk hilt first, balancing it delicately in her palm.
Faurosk
It was then that she watched him put the pieces together. He stopped mid sentence and returned her look dully, practically muttering his own epiphany.
Wordlessly, the bard leaned over and rifled through her bag. She withdrew the small knife with no semblance of presentation or flourish; she simply placed it on the table with a metallic thud.
The wooden sheath was decorated sparsely with holy, protective runes. The hilt was wrapped in black leather and the pommel proudly displayed the Templar symbol. Rainie was no holy woman, or even a practitioner of magic, but even she could sense the hallowed light the weapon exuded.
Expressionless, she reached for it and unsheathed it, flashing the pure silver blade in the dim fire light. More runes were engraved on the blade, swirling and delicate and beautiful. The blade had once belonged to a slain templar, then moved from hand to hand until it ended up in the hands of Rainie’s mark... She had known better than to steal it as well, but the temptation had been too much.
She couldn’t let Eila see it. She didn’t think the lich guards would even let her back into the stronghold if she had it.
All the merchants in town had lowballed her for the selling price. Rainie knew a scam when she heard one. It was why she still clung to the item, despite her desperate need to get rid of it.
The bard didn’t even realize she was chewing on her lip. With the blade in her hand, she pressed the tip lightly into her fingertip. With the barest amount of pressure, the deadly sharp blade managed to draw a bead of blood.
Noisily, she cleared her throat. “Well,” she allowed, “you won’t find a sharper blade.” And then she smirked privately at her own self-loathing joke. She swiped her bleeding finger along the flat of the blade. “But there, now it’s corrupted, right?”
Smiling, she offered the blade to Faurosk hilt first, balancing it delicately in her palm.
Faurosk