Reginald Ophidian approached the purveyor of the haberdashery and flashed him a serpent’s eye and a forked tongue. With a quickness Reginald doubted he could have matched, Bryan Kormallis produced Knightslayer and swung for the upper deck. Reginald dropped to his back in a roll that placed him fifteen feet away from the mace wielder; then with the strength of an ogre he lifted a nearby weapon rack and hurled it at the human. Weapons clanged against each other; glass shattered as the heavy rack broke apart upon impact with the inside wall of the workshop.
Diving to his left putting himself between his daughters and this hulking attacker; Bryan waited for the brute to advance. Instead, Reginald looked around for clues and when he found it he retrieved it.
“You craft ammunition using this blacksmith.” Reginald accused, more than asked. He threw the masterwork tools at the man; they broke as Bryan blocked the incoming artillery. “If you value your life and lively hood blacksmith then I suggest you tell me who you make them for.” Letting the magic of his ring infuse his words with powerful influence, Bryan visibly relaxed and began to speak at length.
Satisfied, Reginald turned toward the city streets when something caught his eye. Lying among the debris was a small lock box, broken open, and with its former contents spilled on the floor; a handful of green and red weapon and armor crystals. They sparkled up at Reginald. He gathered them with a dragon-like appetite.