Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20140217201750/@comment-27783182-20140308182045

Sancreriel was writing a poem at his room in the Tiber Septim Hotel.

Canis Roots are red,

Chaurus Eggs are blue,

People want my phial,

But I only got few!

He sighed, looking at his newly brewed phial. It looked like the White Phial, so maybe that's why people wanted it.

A few hours ago...
Sancreriel was about to ask for a room when he suddenly felt thirsty. He grabbed his white-colored phial and opened it. A merchant who was nearby looked at it and walked towards Sancreriel.

"Hey. Psst. How much is this phial?" The merchant asked.

Sancreriel turned to the merchant.

"Well, it isn't for sale..." Sancreriel said.

"I'll give 900 septims for it." The merchant begged.

"I'd like a room please. Immediately..." Sancreriel handed 40 septims and immediatly running upstairs to his room, shutting his door and blocking it.