Sleek rolaren-clasped case
This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.
a sleek rolaren-clasped case
Crafted of a deep black leather, the sleek case is designed with a secure clasp of a fine chain around a hexagonal rolaren button stamped with the sigil of Ta'Nalfein. Lined in black, padded silk with various loops, hooks, and pockets sewn into the inside fabric, the case is able to securely hold a variety of tools useful in lockpicking without fear of the contents shifting and making noise at an inopportune moment.
This is is said to have belonged to a group of assassins.
[Italics denote what audience sees as the bard sing.]
Bestrix closes his eyes, his fingers closing gently on the case in his hands.
As you begin to sing, everything in your periphery begins to wash away as you regard the case in your hand with new eyes. As you look back up, you notice your surroundings have changed and it dawns on you that you are witnessing a scene long-since past, through the eyes of another.
Bestrix reopens his eyes, away from the moment of this room, looking far into the distance.
Your sight begins to adjust to the blackness of your surroundings, and you find yourself standing before a heavy maoral door. From behind you, a soft whisper in your ear coaches you, helping dispel some of the fear and nervousness you feel. Hands shaking slightly, you unclasp the case at your belt carefully, mentally cringing when the chain rasps against the button, echoing in the silent hallway. Your fingers delve into the contents of your case, selecting your tools by touch.
Bestrix runs his hand over the surface of the case, caressing it gently.
You sense yourself kneel silently before the lock in the door, carefully removing a lockpick from your case. With practiced precision, you slip the lockpick into the lock and set to work, and within moments, you smile to yourself as you hear the *click* of the lock's tumblers falling exactly where you want them. You replace the lockpick into your case, cautiously closing it and securing the clasp. With ease, you stand in one graceful movement and, glancing behind you at your companion, you slowly turn the knob of the door and slip inside.
Bestrix closes his eyes once more, his attention on some unseen vision.
The scene shifts, and a great sense of accomplishment washes over you. You find yourself in a dark room, lighted by several torches that line the walls, this time all fear and apprehension gone from you, replaced by a feeling of pride and comfort with your surroundings. A dark-clad elf stands watch over the room's only door, his eyes occasionally flicking between you and the entrance, hand resting on the sword at his side. Your companion, an older elf, sits propped against his desk in front of you, nodding approvingly as he drums his fingers on the sleek black case at his belt, identical to yours in detail and design. As he begins to critique your performance, offering suggestions and pointers, you feel yourself remove a stiletto from within the cuff of your left glove, and set about carefully cleaning all traces of blood from its blade.
Bestrix's eyes slowly open and begin to regain their focus.
Slowly the vision begins to fade, and you regain the sense of the here and now.