Hi this story is an expansion of the story that comes with the item. It's a bit "moralistic" but that tone was inspired by the story that came with the item....
The (full) story of raid mithril scale +3 of the frost:
Like many an adventurer Falstaff’s ambitions started of small- all he wanted to do was experience some excitement, kill a few monsters and find money and items to sell. This last was used mainly for the up-keep and improvement of the tools of his trade- his weapon (at first this was a simple dagger, but he quickly turned to a sword as soon as his skill as money allowed him to do so), his Armour, helm and shield. Falstaff followed the adventurers’ creed “Take good care of your gear, and it will take good care of you.”
However the more money and items Falstaff gained the less he was able to view things in terms of what was useful to him in his battles and adventures, and more and more it became about ownership for ownership’s sake- a mark of statues. If a rare powerful sword was on the market, Falstaff would bid any amount of money to get it, and if heard that some where a strange monster was dropping a certain item he’s spend months and years finding the monster's lair, and would not stop fighting it until he’s possessed the item. His natural and even respectable inclination to improve himself turned to an overriding greedy obsession.
And then Falstaff finally crossed the line- leading a party of five less experienced adventurers deep into a Dungeon, with the promise that with his help they would all come out rich. Things did not turn out that way, and in the final room they all perished, one of them a healer, who with her last breath cast a healing spell on Falstaff (still believing he was not to blame for the defeat of the party). Falstaff did not die in that room, and emerged from it with the treasure he had been seeking- a crown that made its wearer seem more majestic to those who looked at him or her. Behind that room, as his scholarship had told him, was a portal, which transported him safely out of the dungeon (he would never had been able to make his way back out by himself of course).
Falstaff had shed all the equipment from his early days in favor of expensive and outlandish gear, all except one item-a plain suit of Scale Mail, that he felt was his lucky armor (He had worn it during an especially vicious encounter, where he and his companions barely defeated the monster. Rather than attribute this success to good teamwork, Falstaff preferred to believe that this suit was lucky.) After much use however the suit could no longer be simply repaired, and Falstaff became obsessed with a new idea- M making his old Scale mail into a unique and magical armor. First he found a dwarf who specialized in making Mithril armor, and after paying him a fortune both for the labor and fore the materials, had the scale armor made into mithril armor. Then he searched far and wide for some one to enchant the armor, being especially interested in giving it some protection against cold attacks (as well as busting his somewhat limited magical abilities), because one area of the world that he had not much explored, and which was rumored to have many strange and unusual items were the cold winter wastes.
One day he heard that in far off lands there lived the last of the Wizards who could make rings that gave their bearers protection from cold attacks, (some were even rumored to give their bearers the ability to do cold damage), and decided that if anyone could give him the kind of armor he wanted this wizard could do. He traveled many to days to find the wizard, but the wizard refused, telling him that enchanting such a large item was beyond his skill (in truth he saw some of Falstaff was like and did not wish to have any thing to do with such a man). However the Wizard hand an apprentice, his son in fact, who saw this as his chance to prove that not only was his father’s equal but his master. And so leaving his fathers cave undetected he followed Falstaff with the ingredients he would need for the spell(s), and catching up to him told him would enchant the armor, the price being 20% of anything Falstaff gained through adventuring after the armor was enchanted. Falstaff agreed and that night they began. But the power required to enchant the armor was great, and it the Wizard was soon aware of what his son was doing, rushing to the site he beheld a terrifying image- his was caught up in powers beyond his control and instead of making the armor cold resistant his son, his very flesh and blood, was slowly turning to ice! He stepped in of course to try to save the son, but it was to late- his son froze and shattered in front of his very eyes. But the spell casting could not stop, because the powers they had unleashed were still loose, and so the wizard had to focus them on the only item ready to accept them the armor. But the wizard, whose rage and grief over his son’s death new no bounds, got his revenge- While Falstaff thought he was getting the armor he requested, and indeed it was improved in certain areas, the Wizard had also made certain that there were certain vulnerabilities in the armor. Flastaff, who felt he got his armor for free (since he hade made his agreement with the now dead son, not the Wizard), left the scene a very happy man.
Falstaffs death:
A week later Falstaff decided to go adventuring and after killing a giant or two bent over to search their bodies- suddenly there was a great fiery explosion- one of the giants had had a rune of fire hidden on his person. Normally this would not have been enough to kill Falstaff outright, but the suit caused him extra vulnerability to fire and lowered his health and so he died.
The Wizard found Falstaff’s original suit, and after making 4 or five more copies of it attached a small version of this story to them so that they may serve lessons to those who may whish to follow Falstaff (he did not want to spell out all the details, because he wanted people to puzzle over the meaning of the story and come to their own enlightenment that way).
Epilogue:
From the testament of Zrubavel
And on a day like no other, there was a raid like no other- Stone Glow and Stone Heaven and all place where humans felt safe were over-run with mobs of all kinds and shapes [editors not this is Longir’s B-day raid]. Like many a hero I did what I could to defend our village. During a bit of a lull in my zone, when both Mobs and Heroes left the area I was in, a white Dragon appeared. I charged it wounding it, but died myself, rushing back I charged it two more times, and two more times I died, on the fourth I killed it. Searching its corpse I found an item never seen before by me or any one till then: raid mithril scale +3 of the frost. [editor’s note see item in Museum]
I took it imaging that I had found a rare and powerful item, which would lead me to further greatness. Little was I too know that the Armors great flaws, its’ vulnerability to fire and its negative con, for one such as me (who has low con to begin with) would make it practically unusable. Much like its original owner I have died several times while wearing it.
It is however a valuable memento of the great raid that took place that day, and of the following motto “Beware Longirs bearing Gifts”
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