silver-based crystal sphere (phoenix)
As you sing, the facets of the sleek crystal sphere begin to shimmer briefly, and you find yourself among snow-capped mountains....
A young elf huddles in the cold of a blizzard, and around him, the mountains of the DragonSpine loom in the background as the storm rages on, the cold whipping through you like a knife's point.
The youth looks up, his heavy clothes covered with a thick blanket of frost, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, as he gazes out over the thick clouds.
A fiery, ruddy red glow washes over the surroundings, and the youth's eyes widen as he gazes up, unblinking, at something hanging in the sky. The warmth of a blazing hearth washes over you, and the snow surrounding the elf begins to trickle as it melts from its frozen state.
The glow builds and builds, until you find yourself enshrouded in the fiery haze, and all you can see is the youth's wide eyes as he stares, bedazzled at whatever the cause of the inferno is.
And then you hear a wooshing sound, and the glow fades, as does everything else, to a deep blackness.
You hear a voice in the darkness, "Quickly, he is here! We must get him back to the caravan!"
Roundtime: 9 sec.
As the facets of the sleek crystal sphere twinkle, you find yourself in a crowded workroom.
The youth from before hunches over a large table spread with uncut jewels, his eyes focused and intense -- the degree to which they study things is nearly maddening in appearance, searching for the key to an obsession.
The door opens, and a regal, older elf steps in.
"You've been neglecting your assignments again."
The young elf looks up, "Not now, father. This is important."
A harsh glare responds, "Our LIVING is important. Do you enjoy this manor, those jewels I gave you to work with? The trade I instilled in you?! Then you'd best give the projects we've commissioned a BIT more thought than what you're doing here."
The youth furrows his brow at the interruption into his own private world, then mutters a, "Fine."
"Good, I thought so. Here's the diagrams for the new cuts." The elf places them on the table, then walks out in a huff.
The youth picks them up and studies them a bit, then sighs, and places what he'd been working on into a glimmering pile -- each of them a brilliant, beautiful wing of flames crafted out of a different gem.
Roundtime: 9 sec.
As the facets of the sleek crystal sphere twinkle, you find yourself passing through time rapidly -- you see the youth grow into an elf, his craft sustaining him and his obsession becoming more and more a part of his life, hours of toiling, hours of reading strange books... and then time slows down once more as the creaking of a door is heard...
"Master?" A young half-elf murmurs as she steps into the room.
"Huh, what, yes? What is it?" A figure says from the shadows, his silhouette dimly outlined by a single amber lamp in the room.
"I, uh, know I'm not supposed to come in here, but uh---", she stops as she looks around, the darkness dotted with miniature glimmering facets of light like a cosmos onto itself. "Um, wow. Is this what you make in here?"
The figure makes a faint, annoyed huff as his work is interrupted, and he mutters, "Yes, yes. Come in, if you're already here. Make yourself useful."
The vision fades away into glimmering sparkles.
Roundtime: 11 sec.
The glimmering sparkles appear within the sleek crystal sphere, and lead you back to the workshop...
The half elf clambers over toward the workspace and gazes at the masterpiece the elven jewelsmith works on, a phoenix crafted of the finest blue sapphire, its numerous facets glinting with inner fire painstakingly sculpted for years upon years.
"Hand me the second book down on the right," The jewelsmith orders, pointing toward a nearby shelf.
The half-elven girl eagerly runs to the other side of the room, but stops to take a closer look at each of the pieces glittering in the faint light -- each appears to be made of a different gem, yet all depict the same thing -- a phoenix frozen in time, carved from the most precious jewels and stones. She remembers what she was doing, and quickly picks up the book and runs over to the table.
The jewelsmith flips through the book, briefly, as the girl studies the piece he's working on. Finally, she makes a pointed observation, "It's blue. They aren't supposed to be blue."
The jewelsmith gives her a fairly withering stare over his spectacles, then sighs as she fails to notice it completely. He sets the book down on his lap and says, "It does not matter what the hue is. This thing, this phoenix, it is a symbol that means different things to many. It is not merely one facet of a jewel, it is a jewel unto itself with uncountable facets. And I have toiled, for so very long to capture each and every one of those facets. From the sorrow of its death to the joy of its rebirth to all the spectacular shades in between..." The light reflects off his spectacles, making them a mirror of the amber fire burning in the lamp as he looks down to regard the girl, "And I am almost complete, child."
The vision fades away into glimmering sparkles.
Roundtime: 10 sec.
The glimmering sparkles appear within the sleek crystal sphere, and lead you back to the workshop...
The girl continues to study the sapphire phoenix, "What's this one?"
As he flips through the book again, he replies off-handedly, "These are my last pieces, the series is called Winter. They are the pinnacle of my work, they capture the facet *I* am most familiar with..."
The jewelsmith gets a strange, nostalgic look in his eyes, and a vague sense of wonder crosses his features, before he finds his page and mutters a brief incantation.
He gestures at the statue, but nothing happens.
"Damn," he mutters, eliciting a puzzled response from the girl.
"I am trying to bring their fire out. Their true fire. All the inspiration I put into them, to make it as close to living as I possibly can..." He sighs, briefly, then continues, "But it appears this shall not happen very soon..."
"Surely, there must be a way, you've been at this so long, haven't you?!" She asks.
The jewelsmith glances down at the child, "There is a way. It is just not something I am yet prepared to do. So I search... for something else."
The vision fades away into glimmering sparkles.
Roundtime: 8 sec.
The glimmering sparkles of the sphere fade into deep shadows as you find yourself in another place...
Fires rage throughout a small village, and the silhouettes of orc raiders race across the flame-ravaged countryside. As you approach one house, you hear a faint scream.
A half-elven woman, her eyes half-mad with fright, pounds on a locked and bolted door, "Master! You must come out! You must, or we'll be killed! They've already gotten past the blockades, they're IN the village! Can't you smell the houses burning?!"
Just then, an axe whooshes through the air, slamming with a reverberating *THUD* on the door and cleanly severing one of the girl's braids. Even as she backs up with a gasp, flames begin to pour in from the roof as the supporting beams crack and splinter with the stress.
"Master, PLEASE!" The woman cries.
From behind the door, you hear a quiet voice murmur, "I... understand now. I think... that I am finally prepared..."
Moments pass as the fire rages -- beams fall across the floor, blazing with flames as the woman cries out, trapped in the inferno as she pounds relentlessly at the door.
The fires fade into darkness as the vision leaves you.
Roundtime: 8 sec.
Fires spring up in your vision, leading you back to the burning house and the woman, who continues to fruitlessly pound on the door of the workshop...
And then, beams of multi-hued light burst out from the door, sweeping across the surroundings and simply *absorbing* the flames, leaving nothing but charred, slightly smoking wood behind. With a bright burst of light, the living flames whoosh outward and into the night.
In but a few moments, the screams of the raiders echo in the dark, and the hellish glow of the blazes throughout the village is snuffed out in a heartbeat.
A bright, resonating glow washes in from one of the broken windows, bathing the burnt house in a warm light that flares like the sun.
And then the night returns, quiet and peaceful as it was prior to the intrusion.
The half-elven woman stands up, and the door to the workshop creeks open quietly, and brilliant scarlet light dances within as she gasps audibly.
Throughout the workshop, flames race and chase one another before finally diving into the hundreds upon hundreds of statues throughout the room, tinting each of them a fiery scarlet as they absorb the flames entirely, the hazy after-images of the fiery birds they represent playing briefly along their outer edges, until, they too, fade into the gems, setting their facets ablaze with brilliant, glimmering sparkles of pure crimson.
Tears fall from the woman's cheeks as she watches the scene unfold, but her eyes are not focused on the wonders before her, but on her Master -- he sits, surrounded by the statues he'd created all his life, his body lifeless and a grimoire clutched to his chest -- his features hold a pure sense of awe, one you saw many years ago on the face of a dying boy...
And then the vision fades away, and you feel both the sense of wonderment and the sense of loss washing outward from the sphere, feelings both beautiful and sad -- that the noble sacrifice of a kind heart instilled the spirit of pure inspiration into the sphere, that such a gesture fuels its magic even now. And then your song ends, leaving you with a vague sense of loss, and a profound sense of awe.
Roundtime: 8 sec.