Through legends, stories and myths throughout the realms, we always hear of heroes, great and small, wielding powerful weapons and other special items, though we tend to lose interest when it comes to the items that made those special items.  Here is a tale dedicated to those who give to the realms: 

Sao worked hard to finish the tunic, he and his father, Drao, were in the great market place of Ellivanor.  “You had better hurry!!” shouted the angry man.  “You will feel my belt should you take to long, a belt that you yourself crafted!!” 

“Father, you taught me to take my time in crafting things.” protested the boy. He looked up from his work to stare into the hard face of the older man. 

His expression softened.  “I am sorry my son.” He apologized softly, “It is just that here we must hurry to meet the demands of the customers, in the great market of Ellivanor, a second too late is long enough for a would-be-customer to choose another stand to meet his demands.” 

Sao began snipping vigorously, forming the hole for the collar. “I am doing my best Pa.” He said, not looking up from his task. 

“Than that’ll have to do.” replied his father.  Dao looked at the basket contaning breeches, Sao had made them, the boy was good at what he did, him and those scissors.  Then, he heard several screams of terror.  Dao rushed to the counter of his stand and stood on his toes to see what was behind the fleeing mass of elves, dwarves and men. What he saw filled him with horror, three woarg riders ripped through the mob. 

Blood and gore flew everywhere as the orcs smiled and joined in the slaughter full fray.  Two armored guards sounded the alarm, soon, five hundred and twenty elvish rangers would pour out of Amon refilanë and defeat these monsters.  On they came, the elvish warriors ready to defeat these three terrors.  One of the woarg riders saw them coming, instead of turning tale and fleeing, he blew his horn.  Then, hundreds of woarg riders charged in. 

Sao, rushed to his fathers side.  “What is going on?”  He asked. 

“Woarg attack!!  They are to many, the rangers will not win.” replied his father, clearily panicking. 

Sao looked around, to the left of the woarg force was a tall tower, suspended by two ropes, at its angle, it could hold itself up on its own, yet it was unstable and needed the ropes to hold it in place. 

A plan formed itself in Sao’s mind.  Then he charged off, running through the panicking mob.  “Sao!!” cried his father, but Sao had already disappeared in the crowd.  Nowhere to be seen. 

Running behind the the fighting group, Sao started to climb the stairs inside the tower.  Reaching the highest floor, he pushed open the window, above the window was a ladder leading to a large hinge, on the hinge was at least six feet of chain, finally, there was the rope.  Sao gulped, looked down at the raging battle, the woargs were gaining an upper hand.  Sao, pushed all thoughts of danger out of his mind and began climbing.  He climbe up to the hinge,  swung his leg over the chain and slowly slid towards the rope.  One hand grasping the rope, and the other holding hs scissors three inches below his first hand.  He began cutting savagely, slowly cutting the large heavy rope, his hand ached, bruised yet he cut on.  Then it was holding on by a thread.  Grasping the good side of the rope, Sao slid of the chains.  The rope snapped, the tower was free, yet it did not tumble.  Not yet. swinging and gaining momentum, he flew towards the tower.  he pushed out his legs.  The sheer force of the push, broke both his legs, yet it was just enough to stir the tower.  In agony, he let go of the rope and fell the the ground.  He looked up to see the elves geting out of the way.  Yet the orcs, in their idiocity did not notice the falling tower.  They were crushed.  Sao blacked out. 

Hours later, Sao woke up, his legs still hurt.  “He is alive!!” he heard a voice shout, it was an elf ranger.  “Who are you boy?”.  he asked.  I am Sao, son of Dao the merchant. 

Then he saw his father rush to him.  “My son, you are foolish, but the bravest son a father could ask for.” said Dao.  “Hoorah for Sao!! Hero of the day!!” shouted the elves.  And he was, Sao’s small, insignificant and otherwise pathetic scissors, saved a city.

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