kookiegod
03-21-2011, 12:57 PM
an iron-banded golden mithril coffer
It made this... a dagger with some polished blue coral set in its hilt
And this...some dove grey leather boots set with whorls of malachite stone chips
Great for the fashionista in your life, or a house/MHO officer to make prizes and gifts or offer services.
A pale, pearly-grey fog mists your vision, slowly clearing to reveal a view of an unfamiliar city, seen from a great height. A sense of vertigo sweeps over you as you swoop down into the city at impossible speed, flying through the narrow streets and into a tiny window near the foundation of a simple cottage. Your dream-like flight comes to a sudden halt within a cluttered workshop filled with gears, springs, and other contraptions. Seated on a high stool at the workbench in the middle of this mechanical maelstrom is a wizened gnome, busily tinkering with an iron-banded golden mithril coffer.
Even before the last notes of your song have finished, your vision clouds and clears again, returning you to the scene of the cluttered workshop. Some time seems to have passed since you last saw the wizened gnome, for now he is holding the golden mithril coffer in his hands, turning it this way and that in clear pleasure with his handiwork. As he opens it, you hear a soft mechanical whirring, which increases in volume as the vision fades....
The last notes of your song twist into a mechanical whirr as your vision of the old gnome and his workshop return. The workbench is heaped with various weapons, cloaks, pouches, belts and shoes to the gnome's right, and a random collection of gems, pelts and buckles to his left. The wizened craftsman hums merrily as he selects one thing from each pile, pops them into the golden mithril coffer perched on the workbench before him, and closes it. From deep within the coffer, a mechanical whirring starts up, pushing you back into your natural time and place....
Almost before you can begin your song, your vision is swept away to the tiny workshop. A moment or two only seem to have passed, for the gnome has just reached into the golden mithril coffer set before him. He dances about the room in a merry, disjointed little jig, holding up a spiked mithril mace with a star ruby set in its haft. You reach out towards the coffer and wake from your revelry with a jolt, as the reality of the cold surface of the coffer you are holding brings you out of your song.
mb 20m
It made this... a dagger with some polished blue coral set in its hilt
And this...some dove grey leather boots set with whorls of malachite stone chips
Great for the fashionista in your life, or a house/MHO officer to make prizes and gifts or offer services.
A pale, pearly-grey fog mists your vision, slowly clearing to reveal a view of an unfamiliar city, seen from a great height. A sense of vertigo sweeps over you as you swoop down into the city at impossible speed, flying through the narrow streets and into a tiny window near the foundation of a simple cottage. Your dream-like flight comes to a sudden halt within a cluttered workshop filled with gears, springs, and other contraptions. Seated on a high stool at the workbench in the middle of this mechanical maelstrom is a wizened gnome, busily tinkering with an iron-banded golden mithril coffer.
Even before the last notes of your song have finished, your vision clouds and clears again, returning you to the scene of the cluttered workshop. Some time seems to have passed since you last saw the wizened gnome, for now he is holding the golden mithril coffer in his hands, turning it this way and that in clear pleasure with his handiwork. As he opens it, you hear a soft mechanical whirring, which increases in volume as the vision fades....
The last notes of your song twist into a mechanical whirr as your vision of the old gnome and his workshop return. The workbench is heaped with various weapons, cloaks, pouches, belts and shoes to the gnome's right, and a random collection of gems, pelts and buckles to his left. The wizened craftsman hums merrily as he selects one thing from each pile, pops them into the golden mithril coffer perched on the workbench before him, and closes it. From deep within the coffer, a mechanical whirring starts up, pushing you back into your natural time and place....
Almost before you can begin your song, your vision is swept away to the tiny workshop. A moment or two only seem to have passed, for the gnome has just reached into the golden mithril coffer set before him. He dances about the room in a merry, disjointed little jig, holding up a spiked mithril mace with a star ruby set in its haft. You reach out towards the coffer and wake from your revelry with a jolt, as the reality of the cold surface of the coffer you are holding brings you out of your song.
mb 20m