Buckwheet
03-03-2012, 08:41 PM
a mesille shawm
As you sing to the shawm, your melody evokes various impressions from the mesille. The smell of blueberries drifts past, and the image of a shadowy barrack forms briefly before your eyes. In the barrack, you observe a silver-eyed giantman woman making a gesture of blessing over her mesille shawm. The fragile vision dissolves almost as quickly as it came.
Your magical song delves into the nature of the shawm, evoking the image of a shaggy-haired elven woman. The woman is singing of heroic deeds and is garbed in firecat fur. Tiny silver fish swim through a sparkling pond as the elven woman coerces the mesille shawm from the same giantman woman that you observed before. The sound of someone chanting forcefully in an archaic tongue surrounds you as the image fades away.
Harmonies echo from the heart of your shawm, and those harmonies swell around you, guiding you into a vision. You see blood-encrusted bones scattered across the bottom of a ravine, and the elven woman squats at the bottom of the ravine playing the mesille shawm. The elven woman is alone, playing for no one but herself, and her expression reflects the same benevolence that you perceive in her flashy music. The vision ends as you finish your verse.
The resonances of the mesille shawm flow over you as sensory impressions. You hear an electrical storm and smell acantha leaves before the magic of your loresong draws you into a vision. The elven woman stands, affection in her eyes, between two official-looking guards. The affection does not fade as the guards shackle her and carry her possessions away to the auction block. A haggard burghal gnome man purchases the mesille shawm and takes it away. The image dissolves away.
As you sing to the shawm, your melody evokes various impressions from the mesille. The smell of blueberries drifts past, and the image of a shadowy barrack forms briefly before your eyes. In the barrack, you observe a silver-eyed giantman woman making a gesture of blessing over her mesille shawm. The fragile vision dissolves almost as quickly as it came.
Your magical song delves into the nature of the shawm, evoking the image of a shaggy-haired elven woman. The woman is singing of heroic deeds and is garbed in firecat fur. Tiny silver fish swim through a sparkling pond as the elven woman coerces the mesille shawm from the same giantman woman that you observed before. The sound of someone chanting forcefully in an archaic tongue surrounds you as the image fades away.
Harmonies echo from the heart of your shawm, and those harmonies swell around you, guiding you into a vision. You see blood-encrusted bones scattered across the bottom of a ravine, and the elven woman squats at the bottom of the ravine playing the mesille shawm. The elven woman is alone, playing for no one but herself, and her expression reflects the same benevolence that you perceive in her flashy music. The vision ends as you finish your verse.
The resonances of the mesille shawm flow over you as sensory impressions. You hear an electrical storm and smell acantha leaves before the magic of your loresong draws you into a vision. The elven woman stands, affection in her eyes, between two official-looking guards. The affection does not fade as the guards shackle her and carry her possessions away to the auction block. A haggard burghal gnome man purchases the mesille shawm and takes it away. The image dissolves away.