Princes of the Apocalypse
The hilt of the greatsword made a loud clang as it fell to the floor with the wizard whose middle it was stuck through. Bashar slumped into a chair to catch his breath, holding his side where the wizard’s spell had made its way through his armour. It could hardly be called armour anymore. Though it was well worn to begin with, the wizard’s defenses had laid waste to the most protective portions. Thankfully this job’s pay would easily cover the upgrade to chainmail Bashar had been waiting for.
Once he was able to breathe without too much pain, Bashar got up and began to look about. He knew the danger of touching a wizard’s belongings without understanding, but personal loot is a perk of a job like this. He found a few small trinkets and figurines that seemed benign and scooped them into a sack. A nice silver plate and a few coins would also pay for a few days of celebratory ale.
As Bashar was about to leave, an interesting item caught his attention. Towards the centre of the wizard’s desk sat a crude chalice made of coal. Truly a unique object, Bashar had never seen such a thing. He approached it carefully and touched it gingerly. Nothing seemed to happen. Gently, Bashar picked up the chalice and placed it in his bag. This item he would not sell, though he could not say why.