Item:Thin grey cloak (2): Difference between revisions

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(removed appraisal value since it isn't constant in all instances. changed weight back to 50 because had certain weight appraisal – sure there wasn't anything in the cloak when appraised at 53?)
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|type=clothing, container, magic, verby, thief style
|type=clothing, container, magic, verby, thief style
|wearloc=shoulders
|wearloc=shoulders
|weight=5
|weight=50
|sourcetype=-
|sourcetype=-
|rare=yes
|rare=yes

Latest revision as of 09:12, 29 June 2014

Incomplete Item
  • This item is incomplete, which means that while it is not a stub, it still lacks certain data or information.
  • Item Type, Infobox entry on internal size


thin grey cloak (2)
Look: Though otherwise very plain in design, the garment bears a deeply cowled hood with an additional piece of fabric attached to its lower bottom half, further allowing for obfuscation of the wearer's facial features. The small pewter clasp is unadorned on its outer surface, though a simple closed eye design is etched into its reverse.
Weight: 50 stones
Metal: Unknown
Appraised Cost: Unknown
Properties:
  • This item is magical.
  • This item is a container or has pockets.
  • This item is worn in the shoulders slot.
  • This item has more than normal or unusual verbs.
  • This item is styled or has special functions for Thieves.
Dimensions: ? length x ? width x ? height
Capacity: ? length x ? width x ? height (? stones)
Sources: Source is Guildfest 412/Auction
There are other pages that use the name "thin grey cloak." Follow the link for more details.


Cloak Of Damaris

Folklore holds that Damaris himself set a blessing in the fabric of this cloak, that any Thief who does not wish to be found remain so, as long as night's dark mantle cloaks Elanthia.

Study

Looking at your cloak, you feel certain that you could:

 SHAKE, HUG, PULL, WAVE, KISS and RUB it.

You also believe you could TURN it to hide your features, and possibly your own movements from prying eyes, if the conditions are right.

Evoke

You stride boldly through the market plaza, as if you have every right to be there.

A mounted patrol of guardsmen thunder by you, the wind of their movement stirring the thin folds of your grey cloak.

"The artifact *will* be found, or the Mayor will have our heads! Do you hear, leave no stone unturned!"

One guardsman catches your eye. You smile and salute him jauntily, adjusting the lootsack tied to your belt to better distribute its weight. As the last light of the sunlight fades and the sky turns the color of spilled ink, you whistle a snatch of a nightingale's song. Night is here in earnest now, and the night belongs to you.