BriarFox
05-21-2011, 03:36 PM
Chest 1 - CB: 50k Shad0ws0ngs SOLD
Chest 2 - CB: 5.5m MokiePrime SOLD
Chest 1: A gold-banded white mithril chest
A small brass plaque on the front of the chest reads, "Krinklehorn."
A woven grass buckler - 4x
As the notes of your song float out into the air, an image appears before your eyes.
You see the sun rising over a small valley, its rosy pink rays lending a soft glow to the newly budding trees. Young men pad silently through the village, each one laying a bunch of rosemary tied with white ribbons at the bedroom window of the maiden they most admire. They join up in small bands of three or four as they head to the village green.
A young man with blue eyes presides over one group on the green. He wears a green cotton robe with garlands of wildflowers draped around his neck and shoulders. Two small boys approach him and kneel, clumsily, in the dew-soaked grass. One holds out a hazel branch festooned with leaves, and the other presents a buckler of tightly-woven grass. The green-robed man accepts both items with a smile and mounts a roan horse. He raises the hazel branch and shouts, "Forces of Summer, follow me!" A crowd of men in brightly beribboned short coats trail along behind as he trots slowly out of town.
The festively attired group arrives in an empty field outside of the village. They rally together, singing,
Summer strides to center stage
Laughing off old Winter's rage
Leaves appear and grasses grow
Freed from suffocating snow
We sing Ivastaen's roundelay
As sun replaces dreary grey
Daylight lingers into night
Loathe to leave this lovely sight.
The green-robed man lifts his buckler skyward and encourages his men to attack with their flowers and bundled ferns. Dodging the straw thrown by the other side, the forces of Summer advance on their opponents, eventually overwhelming them. After seizing Winter's shield and staff, the men of Summer raise their leader up on their shoulders and march back to town, crowing wildly about the victory.
A fleece-covered shield - 4x
Same song as above.
Chest 2: a rectangular blue mithril chest - Note, the following items are not listed on KP as H4H items. I'm not sure where they're from.
A small brass plaque on the front of the chest reads, "Solhaven."
You rummage through a rectangular blue mithril chest and see an opal-inset mithril talisman, a fur-wrapped carved stone talisman, a rune-carved bleached skull and a teardrop-shaped opal.
Loresongs:
An opal-inset mithril talisman:
As your voice reaches out to the talisman, the talisman responds with a complex vibration that evokes the somber image of a dwarf in your mind. The leaping orange flames of a campfire chase some of the shadows away from him, and the tools of a jeweler have been spread upon a bearskin beside where he sits. He cradles a shining mithril disk in one hand, and he carefully etches three long lines across the disk as tears run silently down his cheeks and into his grizzled beard. His shoulders are slumped with defeat, and his head is bowed with misery, but still he works, and his hands remain steady. A sound in the darkness startles him, and he stares into the night for a long moment, searching the night with his gaze -- but, after a moment, he relaxes again, and he sorrowfully returns to his task.
The talisman vibrates to the rhythms of your voice, and the image of a cavern set beside a sunlit waterfall is revealed to your mind. Somber dwarves walk into the cavern by twos, and each pair bears a hide stretcher between their bodies. Atop each stretcher is the grotesquely mangled corpse of a dwarf, or some section thereof -- some stretchers bear no more than a severed hand or a pink tangle of intestines. After bearing each grisly burden into the cave, the dwarves emerge again with the empty stretcher and walk slowly away, only to return laden with another carcass. There seems no end to the horrific parade. Every dwarf wears a shining mithril talisman looped around his or her neck, and the talismans swing and shine in the sunlight as the dwarves work silently.
The talisman's resonance returns the image of the cavern to your mind. One by one, the dwarves remove their talismans and place them in pits in the ground. Each of the pits contains the pathetic, distorted remains of a dwarf, but there are far more pits than there are talismans -- only a few pits are selected to receive the mithril disks. The dwarves weep openly and without shame as they place the talismans beside their dead, and then they file out of the cavern one by one.
As the talisman vibrates to your verse, you hear a second song beneath your own voice -- a slow, somber song set to a funeral rhythm. As the desolate dirge crescendos, the image of the cavern forms again in your mind. A great boulder has been placed outside the cavern, and rolling the huge rock only a few more feet further would seal the mouth of the cave. The dwarves stand in a half-circle around the boulder and sing their grief into the sunlight. When the dwarves finally let the last notes of their grieving song fade, they step forward, put their shoulders to the boulder, and roll the great rock forward. With an earthshaking grinding and crunching, the rock seals the mouth of the tunnel, and the deep echoes of the impact carry a distinctly final sound.
A fur-wrapped carved stone talisman:
With the carved stone talisman in hand, you begin your song. Your thoughts become a bit fuzzy. You try to clear your vision, but are unable to.
You try a different verse to see if it will clear your muddled head. It works somewhat, leaving you standing in a dimly lit passage. A horrible musty odor fills the air, the stench. becoming stronger as your song continues.
You change the pitch of your song, probing the carved stone talisman further. A ceremony is taking place in a small chamber. Several furry beasts are tossing all manner of items into a murky pool of mud. One of them is chanting.
Your song continues, the verses flowing smoothly. In your vision, the leader of the group walks about the pool, plucking fur from each of those assembled. The beast then wraps a bit of the fur about a stone and dips it into the murk. Each of the gathered is given one of the talismans.
Your song has ended, the vision fades.
A teardrop-shaped opal:
You determine that you could wear the opal around your neck.
A kaleidoscope of colors swirl and blend, dizzying at first until they shear off into a misty illusion. Slowly the image becomes more constructed than confused, and restful to the mind's eye. Tendrils of fog dance about, moving in and out of your field of vision. Clearing, you see tall sandstone cliffs buffeted by wind and rain, standing at the edge of a bay.
Fog continues to dissipate, the dawn light pale and golden upon the beige walls. Dark sand at the base is littered with driftwood and garlands of seaweed, still damp from the receding tide. A small depression darkly mars the cliff foundation, and several gathered dwarves peer cautiously into it. One lights a torch of rags and oil, then bravely heads inside. Several others shrug and follow as the rest await news.
As you sing, you learn that the curious grouping has emerged, and excitedly they tell of the great riches they have found. A couple of the dwarves pull out sextants and charts, glancing at sky and then sea, conferring with the clan. Others quickly gesture to the nearby woods, and move off to gather timber for fires and branches for makeshift shelters. Your vision zooms in, moving to the center of those still gathered near the cave. In the outstretched palm of one dwarf sits a rough opal, beautifully sparkling with its internal fire.
Time seems to pass in a rapid blur. Wealth has been amassed from the mining and polishing of the fiery gems, a good living from which the clan prospers. An enclave built nearby, an attempt to set up a community in the surroundings. A small hunting party heads out, with bows and arrows, seeking provisions for the coming months.
Another blur as the vision shifts, and the providers return laden with deer and rabbit, only to find the fires long cold and the silence oppressive. Coming into the center of their hub, the slaughter is evident and horrifying.
A wash of crimson greets your song, like a wall of blood, fading somewhat you see a liter mounded with limbs being dragged along a path solemnly. The savagery of the attack apparent from the ruthless dismemberment, the few remaining souls accompanying the funereal march stare straight ahead in shock and sorrow.
A loud roar of rushing water draws close with every step, finally coming upon a tall waterfall splashing down over several boulders. Using a fulcrum and their combined weight, one such rock is shifted slightly, opening a huge depression into which the remains are deposited.
The dwarves christen the place "The Cascade of Tears" and then turn their backs away from the shore, heading into the mountains to mourn.
A rune-carved bleached skull:
Your song begins, and the bleached skull gives you an unexpected sensation, one of hope and tranquility. The music reveals a meadow bissected by a narrow stream.
Your song continues, as does your vision. The field revealed to you is now filled with an army of workers and their tools. It is clear they are preparing to construct something of immense magnitude.
Your voice cracks, and the vision turns ugly. Something horrible has ravaged the meadow. The tools and machinery are still scattered about the field, but they are unattended. Row upon row of skeletal corpses are laid out in the meadow in precise order, with no clue as to the manner of their death.
You struggle to continue, but your voice is weakening. A figure now walks among the slain, an odd sword in his hand and a dark robe masking his features. As he passes the bodies, he gestures. The corpses rise, then begin to climb atop each other. It matters not that many of the skeletons are crushed beneath the weight of the others as they continue to converge on a central spot. The skeletal construction begins to take form.
Chest 2 - CB: 5.5m MokiePrime SOLD
Chest 1: A gold-banded white mithril chest
A small brass plaque on the front of the chest reads, "Krinklehorn."
A woven grass buckler - 4x
As the notes of your song float out into the air, an image appears before your eyes.
You see the sun rising over a small valley, its rosy pink rays lending a soft glow to the newly budding trees. Young men pad silently through the village, each one laying a bunch of rosemary tied with white ribbons at the bedroom window of the maiden they most admire. They join up in small bands of three or four as they head to the village green.
A young man with blue eyes presides over one group on the green. He wears a green cotton robe with garlands of wildflowers draped around his neck and shoulders. Two small boys approach him and kneel, clumsily, in the dew-soaked grass. One holds out a hazel branch festooned with leaves, and the other presents a buckler of tightly-woven grass. The green-robed man accepts both items with a smile and mounts a roan horse. He raises the hazel branch and shouts, "Forces of Summer, follow me!" A crowd of men in brightly beribboned short coats trail along behind as he trots slowly out of town.
The festively attired group arrives in an empty field outside of the village. They rally together, singing,
Summer strides to center stage
Laughing off old Winter's rage
Leaves appear and grasses grow
Freed from suffocating snow
We sing Ivastaen's roundelay
As sun replaces dreary grey
Daylight lingers into night
Loathe to leave this lovely sight.
The green-robed man lifts his buckler skyward and encourages his men to attack with their flowers and bundled ferns. Dodging the straw thrown by the other side, the forces of Summer advance on their opponents, eventually overwhelming them. After seizing Winter's shield and staff, the men of Summer raise their leader up on their shoulders and march back to town, crowing wildly about the victory.
A fleece-covered shield - 4x
Same song as above.
Chest 2: a rectangular blue mithril chest - Note, the following items are not listed on KP as H4H items. I'm not sure where they're from.
A small brass plaque on the front of the chest reads, "Solhaven."
You rummage through a rectangular blue mithril chest and see an opal-inset mithril talisman, a fur-wrapped carved stone talisman, a rune-carved bleached skull and a teardrop-shaped opal.
Loresongs:
An opal-inset mithril talisman:
As your voice reaches out to the talisman, the talisman responds with a complex vibration that evokes the somber image of a dwarf in your mind. The leaping orange flames of a campfire chase some of the shadows away from him, and the tools of a jeweler have been spread upon a bearskin beside where he sits. He cradles a shining mithril disk in one hand, and he carefully etches three long lines across the disk as tears run silently down his cheeks and into his grizzled beard. His shoulders are slumped with defeat, and his head is bowed with misery, but still he works, and his hands remain steady. A sound in the darkness startles him, and he stares into the night for a long moment, searching the night with his gaze -- but, after a moment, he relaxes again, and he sorrowfully returns to his task.
The talisman vibrates to the rhythms of your voice, and the image of a cavern set beside a sunlit waterfall is revealed to your mind. Somber dwarves walk into the cavern by twos, and each pair bears a hide stretcher between their bodies. Atop each stretcher is the grotesquely mangled corpse of a dwarf, or some section thereof -- some stretchers bear no more than a severed hand or a pink tangle of intestines. After bearing each grisly burden into the cave, the dwarves emerge again with the empty stretcher and walk slowly away, only to return laden with another carcass. There seems no end to the horrific parade. Every dwarf wears a shining mithril talisman looped around his or her neck, and the talismans swing and shine in the sunlight as the dwarves work silently.
The talisman's resonance returns the image of the cavern to your mind. One by one, the dwarves remove their talismans and place them in pits in the ground. Each of the pits contains the pathetic, distorted remains of a dwarf, but there are far more pits than there are talismans -- only a few pits are selected to receive the mithril disks. The dwarves weep openly and without shame as they place the talismans beside their dead, and then they file out of the cavern one by one.
As the talisman vibrates to your verse, you hear a second song beneath your own voice -- a slow, somber song set to a funeral rhythm. As the desolate dirge crescendos, the image of the cavern forms again in your mind. A great boulder has been placed outside the cavern, and rolling the huge rock only a few more feet further would seal the mouth of the cave. The dwarves stand in a half-circle around the boulder and sing their grief into the sunlight. When the dwarves finally let the last notes of their grieving song fade, they step forward, put their shoulders to the boulder, and roll the great rock forward. With an earthshaking grinding and crunching, the rock seals the mouth of the tunnel, and the deep echoes of the impact carry a distinctly final sound.
A fur-wrapped carved stone talisman:
With the carved stone talisman in hand, you begin your song. Your thoughts become a bit fuzzy. You try to clear your vision, but are unable to.
You try a different verse to see if it will clear your muddled head. It works somewhat, leaving you standing in a dimly lit passage. A horrible musty odor fills the air, the stench. becoming stronger as your song continues.
You change the pitch of your song, probing the carved stone talisman further. A ceremony is taking place in a small chamber. Several furry beasts are tossing all manner of items into a murky pool of mud. One of them is chanting.
Your song continues, the verses flowing smoothly. In your vision, the leader of the group walks about the pool, plucking fur from each of those assembled. The beast then wraps a bit of the fur about a stone and dips it into the murk. Each of the gathered is given one of the talismans.
Your song has ended, the vision fades.
A teardrop-shaped opal:
You determine that you could wear the opal around your neck.
A kaleidoscope of colors swirl and blend, dizzying at first until they shear off into a misty illusion. Slowly the image becomes more constructed than confused, and restful to the mind's eye. Tendrils of fog dance about, moving in and out of your field of vision. Clearing, you see tall sandstone cliffs buffeted by wind and rain, standing at the edge of a bay.
Fog continues to dissipate, the dawn light pale and golden upon the beige walls. Dark sand at the base is littered with driftwood and garlands of seaweed, still damp from the receding tide. A small depression darkly mars the cliff foundation, and several gathered dwarves peer cautiously into it. One lights a torch of rags and oil, then bravely heads inside. Several others shrug and follow as the rest await news.
As you sing, you learn that the curious grouping has emerged, and excitedly they tell of the great riches they have found. A couple of the dwarves pull out sextants and charts, glancing at sky and then sea, conferring with the clan. Others quickly gesture to the nearby woods, and move off to gather timber for fires and branches for makeshift shelters. Your vision zooms in, moving to the center of those still gathered near the cave. In the outstretched palm of one dwarf sits a rough opal, beautifully sparkling with its internal fire.
Time seems to pass in a rapid blur. Wealth has been amassed from the mining and polishing of the fiery gems, a good living from which the clan prospers. An enclave built nearby, an attempt to set up a community in the surroundings. A small hunting party heads out, with bows and arrows, seeking provisions for the coming months.
Another blur as the vision shifts, and the providers return laden with deer and rabbit, only to find the fires long cold and the silence oppressive. Coming into the center of their hub, the slaughter is evident and horrifying.
A wash of crimson greets your song, like a wall of blood, fading somewhat you see a liter mounded with limbs being dragged along a path solemnly. The savagery of the attack apparent from the ruthless dismemberment, the few remaining souls accompanying the funereal march stare straight ahead in shock and sorrow.
A loud roar of rushing water draws close with every step, finally coming upon a tall waterfall splashing down over several boulders. Using a fulcrum and their combined weight, one such rock is shifted slightly, opening a huge depression into which the remains are deposited.
The dwarves christen the place "The Cascade of Tears" and then turn their backs away from the shore, heading into the mountains to mourn.
A rune-carved bleached skull:
Your song begins, and the bleached skull gives you an unexpected sensation, one of hope and tranquility. The music reveals a meadow bissected by a narrow stream.
Your song continues, as does your vision. The field revealed to you is now filled with an army of workers and their tools. It is clear they are preparing to construct something of immense magnitude.
Your voice cracks, and the vision turns ugly. Something horrible has ravaged the meadow. The tools and machinery are still scattered about the field, but they are unattended. Row upon row of skeletal corpses are laid out in the meadow in precise order, with no clue as to the manner of their death.
You struggle to continue, but your voice is weakening. A figure now walks among the slain, an odd sword in his hand and a dark robe masking his features. As he passes the bodies, he gestures. The corpses rise, then begin to climb atop each other. It matters not that many of the skeletons are crushed beneath the weight of the others as they continue to converge on a central spot. The skeletal construction begins to take form.