LotS/Chest of the Stranger

name::Chest of the Stranger	[[:Category:LotS/type::Chest|type::Chest]]
Attack: attack::220 Defense: defense::220
Penstroke: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage against Normal raids (8% @ 51,250/71,750 damage)
IV. Though the stranger was the first other being I had ever seen, I was not afraid. I was, I think, almost shy. I crept into the light, under the overhang of stone, and watched him. I wondered. I thought, maybe, that this is where I had been meant to come -- this stranger would explain why I was in this grim place. Maybe he would know who I was. The stranger stood and he stared into the dark for a long while, his hands folded at the small of his back. He was dry, and his clothing was not tattered. He did not bleed. Suspended in the air just in front of him was a large opened book. I could only see its pages imperfectly and at an angle, but I could see them crawling with text that glowed and twisted as though alive. I could not reproduce a single one of those characters today. They seem to squirm in my memory still, and resist apprehension. Across the page of the book lay a simple fountain pen.
Obtained from Silj the Wurm-Rider
Proc Rate procRate::8%
Proc Damage (minimum)
Proc Damage (cap)

{{#set:statdps=1100 }} {{#set:minprocdps=200 }} {{#set:maxprocdps=280 }} {{#set:totalminprocdps=1300 }} {{#set:totalmaxprocdps=1380 }} {{#set:stamina=0 }} {{#set:energy=0 }} {{#set:honor=0 }} {{#set:pvp=0 }} {{#set:pvpattack=0 }} {{#set:pvpdefense=0 }} {{#set:health=0 }}

{{#set:color=Orange}} {{#set:ability=Penstroke: Chance for bonus damage; Extra damage against Normal raids (8% @ 51,250/71,750 damage)}} {{#set:text=IV. Though the stranger was the first other being I had ever seen, I was not afraid. I was, I think, almost shy.

I crept into the light, under the overhang of stone, and watched him. I wondered. I thought, maybe, that this is where I had been meant to come -- this stranger would explain why I was in this grim place.

Maybe he would know who I was.

The stranger stood and he stared into the dark for a long while, his hands folded at the small of his back. He was dry, and his clothing was not tattered. He did not bleed.

Suspended in the air just in front of him was a large opened book. I could only see its pages imperfectly and at an angle, but I could see them crawling with text that glowed and twisted as though alive. I could not reproduce a single one of those characters today. They seem to squirm in my memory still, and resist apprehension.

Across the page of the book lay a simple fountain pen.}} {{#set:obtained=Silj the Wurm-Rider}} {{#set:used=}} {{#set:notes=}} {{#set:unique=}}