[size=+1]The Last Stand of Sinthar Bloodstone[/size]
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The years of the not too distant past flew by without a glimmer of hope of victory in the hearts of men. Surely the eternal foe, Sinthar Bloodstone, was unassailable, his forces invincible? A savage and terrible hatred fueled the awesome strength of his endless minions. The mighty hosts that had gathered at his call shook their weapons, loud as thunder, and their howls of lust and hatred rocked the world to it's core. First Belinara, then Roldem ... all Layonara stood poised on the precipice of eternal servitude.
Death and despair were ever close. The end had come. The last great battle, however futile, was to be fought. The twilight of Man was at hand. The earth shook, mountains crumbled, heaven and earth was rent and all thoughts of love and hope were lost.
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Then, the mighty few stood tall for all of us.
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The Dragonbane stood, covered in the grime and gore of battle, his pride, his overweening arrogance yet undiminished. Gathered around the immensity of his form were the heroes of the Dragoncalled. How had they managed to resist his power? How had they managed to thwart his plans, aeons in the making? How did this happen?
Yet, still Blood smiled. His grin was cold and mirthless and those gathered knew their fight was not yet won. They beheld with fear the smile of a being who knew a terrible secret that would yet win him this day. Blood raised a simple glass flask to his lips, it's contents unknown yet undoubtedly infused with the mightiest of magicks. Not all present saw this but those who did knew their end was imminent.
It is said it was at this very moment, as the swirling liquid barely touched Sinthar's lips, that Triba, unassuming heroine of the lands, plunged her blade into the back of the eternal foe, ending his life. The flask reputedly fell to the ground, it's contents, Blood's last great hope, spilling and lost. In the explosion and confusion that followed all that was able to be recovered from this battle was the simple glass flask, the vessel holding Sinthar Bloodstone's unknown greatest hope.
I have heard rumors that it was perhaps an elixir that would have granted him power equal to that of the Gods. Some say it was the soul essence of Lucinda Herself and had he consumed it, all magic that existed in the world would have left forever. Why did he not drink it earlier? Answers to such questions can now, sadly, never be answered. It shall ever remain a mystery.
How I, Arkolio de'Averlain, simple man that I am, came upon such an artifact I cannot divulge. Suffice to say, men and women have killed and ... aye, killed and died in turn, to gain it's possession. The possession of such a priceless artifact.
The flask is safely hidden and shall only be revealed to the successful bidder. Threats against my person shall not succeed in me divulging it's location to any but the winner of this auction. Why do I part with it now? I am hoping the winning bidder may perhaps be representing a museum or such and this item might eventually find it's way to a place where it can be appreciated by many. Many, who hopefully will remember the deeds of the brave and how perilously close we all came to oblivion.
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What bid you for such an artifact?