| A hammer struck. Waves of heat rippled from the now covered seams of the mithril box. He stood and with a sigh, brushed the sweat and fringe of cordovan hair away from his face. |
| Sir Bristenn glanced away from his worktable on the wharf and off into Solhaven Bay. Miniature icebergs floated aimlessly amongst the calm swells of the bay, left over from the prior evening's fracas, and the brisk air quickly cooled the tip of the gold wand opposite his hammer. |
| A familiar blonde head poked itself into the gate of the wharf, its beams still dusted with hoarfrost. "Wot's in th' box, boss?" she chirped, balancing armfuls of sheathed messers and longswords. |
| "Journals, logs, books. Memories, really," he answered, setting his tools aside and hoisting the mithril coffer aloft. "Basically, our story." |
| She blinked in something akin to amusement and confusion. "An' ye think th' box is gonna learn'a read down there? Ain't eny candles!" She chortled to herself, propping an armored shoulder against the gate behind her. |
| He turned toward the bay and with a noncommittal sling of his wrist tossed the box into the dark cerulean water. With a splash, it sank straight out of sight, to the sea floor. "Maybe, one day, something with sentience might come along and find it." |
| The squire nodded slowly, understanding. "Who knows. We still have work to do," he said with his usual casual indifference and turned away from the Bay. |
| "Let's, shall we." |
-james, bristenn's player
| You think to yourself, "FFF-" |
| A giant white bunny hurls a powerful lightning bolt at you! |
| You evade the bolt by a hair! |
