shad0ws0ngs
09-07-2013, 06:55 PM
a gold-banded white mithril chest
>look my chest
You see nothing unusual.
There appears to be something written on it.
>read my chest
A small brass plaque on the front of the chest reads, "Krinklehorn."
You remove a woven grass buckler from in your white mithril chest.
Loresong:
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.
The vision returns, drawing you back under its spell.
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 words have barely left your mouth before the scene returns with renewed clarity.
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 song transports you with ease back to the vision of the festival.
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.
For some reason people seem to love KRINKLEHOOOORN!, so!
MB: 250k
>look my chest
You see nothing unusual.
There appears to be something written on it.
>read my chest
A small brass plaque on the front of the chest reads, "Krinklehorn."
You remove a woven grass buckler from in your white mithril chest.
Loresong:
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.
The vision returns, drawing you back under its spell.
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 words have barely left your mouth before the scene returns with renewed clarity.
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 song transports you with ease back to the vision of the festival.
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.
For some reason people seem to love KRINKLEHOOOORN!, so!
MB: 250k