"What can you tell us?" Mari asks, interest piqued. Sphynx, on the other hand, seems more interested in his money. Spellweaver decides to ignore that for the moment to answer Mari's question.
The spellcaster rubs his chin thoughtfully.
"It's getting a little chilly in here," he notes, though whether he means the temperature, the atmosphere - or both - is open to interpretation. "The evening is drawing in. Perhaps a nice fire would warm us all up."
He glances at the unlit log fire which centres one of the walls of the room. Pointing at it with an outstretched hand he mutters an incantation. Five tiny balls of fire form at the end of each finger tip, spinning and coalescing into one palm-sized ball. With a final word he casts the fireball at the logs which are stacked neatly in the fireplace. The logs take flame and in moments the fire crackles with heat that begins to spread out into the room.
Spellweaver smiles in satisfaction.
"I had the forsight to gather some wood for the fire a little earlier." He winks at Laurana and smiles. "You see; I'm not just a pretty face."
He pauses and the smile fades away. A grimness replaces it.
"The Dragonbane Staff," he sighs wearily. "A more evil form of black magic you will never wish to know. Forged for one purpose only: to destroy all of dragonkind. Forged in the very blood of those dragons."
He glances up to note everyone listening to him with rapt attention.
"But let me begin at a beginning. Maybe not the beginning but the only beginning I know of in this melancholy tale.
"There was once a wizard - a vain and foolish man who's hunger for magical knowledge was only held back by his capacity for magic itself. Had he the magical talent to go with his knowledge he would have been counted one of the greatest wizards to ever grace this world.
"Lucky for me that he wasn't or I would not be here to tell the tale.
"Due to his limitations he was forced to rely heavily upon magical artifacts. He studied them hard and became quite good at making them. They augmented his limited powers but they were never enough for him. He wanted more. He always wanted more.
"His studies took him to many places. He sought out the wise, the knowledgeable, the artificers. He learned what he could for them and still wasn't satisfied.
"I'm not sure where his hatred of dragonkind came from but there is a gap of a few years in my knowledge of his travels and I believe it stems from this time. All I can tell you is that he hated them with a burning passion. He wanted them dead.
"Where he came up with his mad scheme I don't know either but he determined himself he would create an artifact that would have the power to fulfil his dreams of dragon genocide.
"The Dragonbane Staff.
"I think I should describe it to you. You may understand a little of just how foul it is, how evil was its conception.
"The staff's pole is forged from dwarven silver. About - say - three-quarters of the way up there is a hand-hold of sorts. The hand literally grips the inside of the pole, which moulds itself magically to fit the hand. Once you hold it thus you will not let go, save by your own force of will. Useful in battle.
"The worst of the staff is the head, though: three claws - taken from the body of a full-grown black dragon - surrounding the still-beating heart of a new-born dragon. The first beat of that dragon's heart. Repeating over and over within a magical field that looks like purple fire swirling around it. Three strands of magical energy hold it in place, each lightning-like strand emanating from the tips of the three claws.
"Such is the nature of the staff that a wizard who wields it against a dragon gains a great advantage. Its very nature seems to inflame their minds, even driving them insane. I believe that a sufficiently strong-enough wizard could even control a dragon with it.
"But I digress.
"He had killed six more dragons before we finally tracked him down. Five of us tracked him and trapped him, but only two of us lived to tell the tale.
"He was truly mad, I believe. You could see it in his eyes. He was lost in some other world of his own imagining. But he was still dangerous. As was the staff.
"My first inclination was to destroy the foul thing. Hmmmph. Nearly killed myself trying that little number. So I decided that I would have to hide it away from the world - until such a time I could discover how to destroy it.
"So I brought it here, gave it to old Nick to look after. Oh, I didn't give it to him physically - and he wasn't aware he was looking after it. He wasn't even aware it even existed. No, I hid it in a vault that lies beneath this inn and I cast a spell that if ever anyone was to come looking for it he would contact me via a magic orb I gave him for just such an occassion."
Spellweaver looks sadly at Nick's skull on the floor.
"He never got the chance to use it.
"According to some of the locals Nick fell foul of some bandits who got too rowdy one night, about a couple of weeks after I had left. They killed him and gutted the place. Those same locals won't come near here now - they claim Nick haunts it and nobody was brave enough to come and bury him.
"So that's why the inn is in the state it is, and why old Nick is grinning bodyless on the floor.
"But that is the least of my problems.
"About two weeks ago one of the traps I'd laid around the staff was tripped. A magical alarm warned me of this ocurrence. There were several traps set in that room alone and the one that tripped was one of the last ones. Whoever had tripped it was good enough to bypass all the others before it without alerting me.
"I rushed here as quick as I could. I was only a little over a day away but I was too late. The staff is gone.
"The first thing I realised was that it was more than one thief who had taken it. A group of at least five people, possibly more. I was tempted to go after them but caution won out. I knew I needed help and I knew just who that help should be."
He smiles grimly at each of the others.
"I can follow the staff - I put a subtle tracer spell on it just in case - so I knew roughly whereabouts it is. As long as whoever has the staff doesn't discover the spell and counteract it I should be able to lead us to within a hair's breadth of it.
"Anyway, I've spent the last few weeks divining, summoning, hiring priests, arguing with gods, and calling in all sorts of favours to get everybody here without them realising they'd been summoned. It's not an easy task, let me tell you.
"And there are gonna be three gods disappointed to learn that my devoton isn't exclusively theirs and theirs alone!" he adds with the old twinkle back in his eye.
"So there you have it. Why you're here. Why I am here. And why I need you.
"Because if we don't retrieve that staff someone just may be smart enough to work out how to make another one. And more! Dragonkind would be in peril of extinction and that would be devastating for our world.
"So we have to get that staff and we have to destroy it!"