What He Carried
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Aye, Brott came through a few days back. Looked like a ghost dragged through soot. Pale as ash, and eyes like a man who ain’t slept since the last moon.
Wouldn’t sit. Wouldn’t eat. Just kept flippin’ that bloody stone over and over, like it was whisperin’ secrets only he could hear.
I told him, “See a healer, for Kiren’s sake.” But he just laughed. That hollow sort of laugh you don’t wanne hear twice.
Said he didn’t need fixin’. Said he needed answers.
So I told him about a fella down in Avallia. Quiet type. Calls himself a scavenger, but folks say he deals in things best left buried.
Secrets, relics, cursed trinkets. The kind o’ things you trade for regrets. Brott left before first light. Didn’t even say goodbye.
Please, if you find him, try to help him. He’s my brother. He ain’t wicked. Just stubborn and lost. But I swear, that gem’s got its claws in him.
Hand-in Dialog (beware: possible spoilers)
Dorion
Oh, I remember him. Nervy sort, clutched that gem like it was worth more then breath.
Kept askin’ the right questions… and all the wrong ones.
Now, if you’re lookin’ for details, friend - you oughta know…
Information like that doesn’t come free. Especially not when someone’s carryin’ something that doesn’t want to be understood.
Hmm, give me a moment to think of what this might be worth to me.