Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20160815191145/@comment-5543592-20160819194723

The bear choked on the potion, having been exhaling when it did, and rolled off the pair. It made a bunch of wheezing sounds as it shuffled back into the dark, discomforted by whatever had been done to it, but strangely feeling better.

Scire lay on his back.

Ishien sighed. "I cannot say I am glad to hear of Daireg's demise.  He was my student once, and I had hoped to school his hatred out of him.  His death, and his victims, are my failure." The Master shook his head. "I can only hope Miri gave him one final chance to repent, despite being her enemy."

Ishien moved from the door, crossing the room to a wrapped bundle.

"I had this ready, in case it was Daireg who returned, instead of you.  In this circumstance, I'd hoped to give it to Miri, but perhaps you could, unless you'd like to keep it for yourself."

He lifted the bundle and unwrapped the cloth convering. Beneath lay a beautiful steel sword, a shamshir: a long, two-handed scimitar. The scabard was a polished steel with elegant engravings that must've taken years to make, and the blade on it's own must've been a work of beauty.

Ishien presented the sheathed weapon to Agatha. "This is the weapon Daireg tried to steal the night he was thrown out of the Hall, the night I believe set him on his path.  I refuse to sell it, and it will recieve no use here.  My ancestors would be pleased if someone of your caliber could make use of it."