My back is killing me carrying all this loot back to the camps. Thoron says the gear is better than anything a blacksmith could forge. "Remnants of an ancient battle between the Golden Saints and Dark Seducers themselves," he tells us. Still, I have my doubts. What's a wizard know about stopping an Ebony arrow coming at your forehead with a poison tip and a full gust of wind?
Plus it don't look right, and it don't feel right. Still, the boss swears by it, and if I call our great leader a liar, I'm a dead man come morning.
Still, if he asks me to bring one of those creepy looking bugs back for him, that's where I draw the line.