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Thread: Loresongs

  1. Default

    a coiled lute string bracelet - This bracelet is made of a single metal lute string, coiled and looped around itself and held by a small silver band. Engraved on the band in an ancient-style script are the words "The music cannot die so long as our love lives."

    Ardwen whispers, "Bracelt is from the first pay foehn's prmoise."

    Music and birdsong fill your ears as you begin to sing to the lute string bracelet. An image slowly builds in your mind...a sunny afternoon, a willow-shaded glade, a slow-moving river. A young Sylvan woman and a Half-elven man sit on the river bank beneath the graceful willow branches, the remains of a picnic scattered about them. As she sings a cheery song he accompanies her on a lute, his long, delicate hands shifting easily over the rosewood fretboard. Her mellifluous voice carries the tune out across the wide, green river.

    The melody, fainter now, continues to captivate you as the scene shifts. You see the merry young couple...but from a new perspective. Now you gaze at them from across the slow-moving river, from behind the narrow trunks of a stand of tall haon trees. You hear a harsh, whispered voice ask "Ird ruo tnowr ghr'w?" A guttural chuckle is the only response. Slowly a warband of trolls, bent low and carrying cruel-looking battle axes, moves forward through the trees. At an abrupt hissed command, the trolls wade out into the river. They are a third of the way across before the Sylph suddenly stops singing and grasps the shoulder of her companion.

    Dizziness sweeps over you as you continue to sing to the lute string bracelet. The young couple race through the sun-dappled woods, their eyes wide and their breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind them, rattling through the underbrush, can be heard the rapid thudding of many booted feet. The Sylvan woman leads the way, gliding easily through the woods despite her obvious fatigue. The Half-elven man follows, burdened by his beloved lute. As the sound of the pursuing trolls grows closer he reluctantly casts the lute aside. Abruptly the woman grasps her companion by the wrist and pulls him off the trail into a low cave. You hear the jangling crunch as booted feet run over the lute.

    You are enveloped by cool air laden with the smell of mold and fungus. In the dim, filtered light of the cave you see the couple pressed up against the jagged stone wall. The sound of booted feet race by without slowing. The couple does not move for a long moment. Outside the cave mouth a twig suddenly cracks. A shape, large and knobby, blocks the light. The man reaches into a leather belt pouch and pulls out a coiled metal lute string. He wraps the ends of the string around his hands. The troll bends low to enter the cave. As the creature steps inside, the man loops the lute string around its neck and jerks it tight. The troll, unable to speak or call out, struggles mightily. The man pulls the metal string tighter still. It bites deep into the troll's neck...and slices the man's long, delicate hands to the bone. The woman pulls a dagger from the troll's belt and sticks it through his eye. She drags the dead troll completely into the cave, then looks up to see her companion staring at his bloody, ruined hands.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  2. Default

    If anyone is looking to add a loresong to something...I have one from RtCF I still haven't found anything to add it to. Send me a PM and we can work something out for a few million.

  3. Default

    a folded coraesine short sword inscribed with a swooping hawk

    >look my sword
    You see nothing unusual.

    Two bands of sigils are engraved along the length of the blade, intertwining among one another as they twist and shift slowly.

    The swirling orb-shaped sigil pulses rapidly with a pale white glow.

    A wreath of misty thorns continually spiral and twist around the length of the coraesine short sword in a twining dance, their tips swept with deep scarlet.



    The sword begins to resonate with the tone of your voice, and you find your vision swept away on currents of air...

    Only to be replaced by utter darkness. But other things reach you in the blackness of the earth that surrounds you entirely... waves of power wash across you, soothing the very core of your being as threads of essence curl and nestle within you.

    Millenia pass by in a heartbeat -- the power only growing further within you -- its mere presence further changing and shaping you as you stand as a silent and ancient receiver of its strength.

    The blackness gradually fades away into the vivid colors of reality.


    The heavy darkness returns to you once more as the sword gives way to the power of your song...

    As you become used to the gradual waves of power collecting within you, flashes of bright white light accompany the darkness -- as if another awareness were reaching out to you.

    As the years continue to pass by, the flashes become more drawn out -- their whiteness resolving into a pale grey that encompasses everything, as if the world itself were a huge swirling vortex of mist-laden air, its eddies and currents stretching for untold miles as it constantly shifts and reforms itself in an ethereal dance of beauty.

    Realizing that somehow these visions are connected to the power which even now washes over and fills you completely -- the very power that fuels the awareness you now experience. You surrender yourself to the visions, and you feel the white-hot explosion of the power within you pushing you into transcendence...

    And then the vision fades away into nothing but a lingering memory.


    A tingling sensation overcomes you as the darkness settles over your vision once again...

    Vaguely aware of your surroundings, you push at the borders of your dark world, your presence manifesting itself by slamming against the surrounding rock to no avail. With little else to do, you take in the power that has forever washed over you for centuries...

    Until a chink of light breaks the endless blackness, a tear in the great velvet shroud illuminates your world...and you find yourself falling...

    Dimly aware of the world, you sense a strange, alien presence among you, radiating its own sense of power as it retrieves you...

    The world becomes a dizzying array of new sensations as you're moved for the first time in you existence. It soon melts away into reality as the vision comes to an end.


    A strange heat ripples along your spine as the sword surrenders to your song...

    You feel heat surround you on all sides, and intermittent strikes from above shape your form into something new altogether. You focus your power upwards occasionally striking the alien presence hovering near you -- the vibrations of its startled screams passing over your surface. The being's determination is relentless, however, and you find yourself wrought into a new form...

    Soon after, you feel a distinctly different presence -- alien, as the others, but radiating a strange sensation -- a vaguely familiar feeling that touched you in ages past.

    The vision's blackness recedes into the warmth of reality.


    Tingling sensations race across the black void as you're plunged into it...

    The familiar presence touches you with its power -- and for a moment you feel a white-hot surge of essence burst through you -- and then the blackness recedes into a hazy image of the world around you...as if you were seeing through the being's eyes.

    Dark cavernous walls surround you, and the lithe shadow of the Faendryl wielding you plays across the craggy surface. As you feel yourself whisked through the air and feel your edge slice into the body of another awareness...a strange energy courses through you, further amplifying your power -- allowing you to better understand the familiar presence which now wields you. Focusing your energies, you unleash a burst of essence, shrouding the one who wields you in a cloak of air -- propelling him into a second strike quicker than lightning against the alien presence, which expires.

    The washed-out vision gives way to the lush colors of reality.


    You sense the weight of many years as you delve into the memories of the coraesine short sword...

    The master fluidly slices through battle, your senses perfectly in tune with his own. Calling up your power, you extend your presence to aid and protect him as he defeats foe after foe -- the number of alien presences surrounding you innumerable.

    As the battle rages on, you sense a presence behind the master, poised to strike -- you twist in his grip to block the blow, but it is too late -- you feel the spark of his life fade away like a dying star and you merely drop to the ground.

    The alien slayer reaches to pick you up, and you surge forth with your power to sprout spikes that flay off the presence's flesh, causing its rumbling screams to vibrate along your surface.

    No longer able to sense the master who bonded with you so long ago nor see through his eyes, your world fades into darkness...
    And the vision comes to a close, the darkness gradually fading into reality.

    You get a sense that was the sword's last memory.


    The power of your song is pushed right back at you by the coraesine short sword, rendering you completely clueless as to its properties. Perhaps you should try again.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  4. Default

    a glimmering pure gold key - Faint reflections shimmer across the surface of the polished gold key.

    As you sing to the pure gold key, it vibrates in a truly peculiar fashion. Concentrating, you realize that the gold of which the key is made is not entirely a thing of this world -- the harmonies produced by your voice resonate both through this world, and another place... it is obviously an artifact of great and subtle power.


    Images of ghosts and spectres flicker through your mind, evoked by the vibrations of the pure gold key. This is an artifact of the Ebon Gate, that far, dark realm where the Arkati Lorminstra permits the living to mingle with the dead upon the Eve of the Reunion.


    As you continue to sing to the key, you sense that the power surrounding it is of sacred origin. The key doubles in your vision, then quadruples, and then becomes merely one key of hundreds... no, thousands!... upon a massive ring of keys. The keys are backed by shimmering black cloth, yet you perceive that the cloth is more than cloth. It is part of the very barrier that separates life from death. Unbidden, a chill sweeps swiftly up your spine, and the vision fades away.


    The world around you shimmers before fading away, and, in its place, you see a snowy forest and a winding path. At the end of the path, an ornate black gate stands closed, and a glimmering pure gold key rests in its lock.

    The vision fades, but the key remains, lying cold, solid, and real in your hand.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  5. Default

    a tiny piece of cubical urnon - The cubical urnon is a small perfectly-formed block, yet at times it shifts and pulsates, like some beating heart. A myriad of hues runs along its sharply-angled edges resembling crackles of rainbow electricity.



    You weave your melody about the urnon, and it begins to shudder intensely as if it was on the verge of breaking. It melts into a small puddle in the palm of your hand and begins to emit a piercing shrilling noise that is heard more in your mind.
    You attempt to match the tone, and the urnon's noises increase in tone to an almost urgent pitch, and your vision flashes briefly with images too fast to comprehend or decipher.

    The urnon become still, then reforms into its normal shape.


    You attempt to match the cubical urnon's faint hum you heard before, your voice rising with the same urgency it now seems to speak with in your mind. Faint feelings begin to flash across your senses as the urnon ripples violently, and you feel its power reaching out to you...

    A vision suddenly flashes across your eyes, too quick to see clearly, though it breaks your concentration and brings your song to an abrupt end. Looks like you'll have to try again.


    You match the cubical urnon's metallic humming with perfect clarity this time, and it shivers violently as its tones mix with yours. Suddenly your senses are utterly overwhelmed by flashes of feelings and visions...

    You feel embraced by everything in nothing...
    You drift endlessly in a sea of intense joy and immense sadness...
    You laugh the laugh of a madman and comprehend all...
    You see everything yet your eyes are shut...
    You hear all, but you have no ears...
    You lie dead on the floor, but feel more alive than you have ever felt...
    You massacre a field of people, yet they smile invitingly at you...
    One thing remains constant as the different feelings pass over you... a faint shadowy presence looms across each like a predator in wait. As the visions and sensations pass, you get the sense that you felt the touch of pure chaos for the briefest of moments.


    You make a clunky attempt to weave a melody around the cubical urnon, and you sense its energies pulling away from your song rapidly. As you search for the perfect tone, your voice suddenly cracks, and you let out a piercing falsetto note that causes the urnon to shiver almost to the point of breaking. You decide not to press your luck further.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  6. Default

    From Zoece's Divination Contest at EG'13.. We had to hold it and try to perceive the story it had, via RP and not singing it. No idea why Rolfard's name is on it.

    a rope-strung scallop shell locket: Several small baubles are strung from a twisted, fraying rope. Most prominent is a small scallop shell, which is fashioned into a locket and held fast by a pearl clasp. An irregularly shaped piece of blue sea glass surrounds the scallop shell locket on one side, while a patinated copper ring hangs from the other side. The rope is just long enough to suspend the baubles over the wearer's heart.

    There appears to be something written on it.
    >read my locket
    Scratched into the surface is the name, "Rolfard."


    The smell of salt water touches your nose, and the call of gulls suggests the sea is nearby. Your vision centers on a bride and groom clasping hands before a bronze shrine. Sunlight filters down onto the couple through lush boughs of an oak tree. The two kiss, and applause and cheers erupt around you as the image fades away.


    Your vision returns to the same couple as before, though the festivities are now over. The pair now stands outside a small hut in a fishing village. The man is dressed in fisherman's gear and is gathering up his nets as the wife looks on. He looks at her, drops his gear, and sweeps her into a deep kiss. He then takes up his things and walks off toward the boats as the vision fades.


    The image of the woman alone fills your mind. She leans against a railing, gazing out at the sea from her perch on the widow's walk. Time seems to pass around her, her face aging before your eyes as the sea breeze whips her hair, first brown, then peppered, now grey. Her blue eyes, filled with longing, never waver from their duty of scanning the horizon, looking for a boat that does not come.


    A large ship sails into the harbor of the fishing village, which has been ravaged by some unknown pillager. The gangplank drops, and a single passenger disembarks. The elderly man scans the ruins with a pained look in his eyes. Suddenly, an old woman with blue eyes appears from the doorway of one of the ruined huts. The two stare at each other for a brief moment before rushing to embrace each other, reunited again after so many years.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  7. Default

    The content's of Trelphyn's box:

    a clear heart-shaped crystal: The beautiful heart-shaped crystal is covered with tiny facets formed by chiseling into its perfect surface. Ambient light catches within the gem, creating tiny rainbows about the area.

    Your sight fades for a moment, and then becomes clear again, allowing you to see a small village housed within a mountain fortress. A small boy with sandy hair and freckles herds a small flock of goats. A tiny girl with golden curls follows behind. She is singing and dancing with youthful abandon as the boy glances at her with annoyance.
    The vision fades as quickly as it appeared.

    Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
    The heart-shaped crystal seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel's eyes fade in and out of focus as the bleating of goats fills your ears and the smell of pasture surrounds you.


    A village scene fills your mind. A teenage girl with golden curls fills a bucket from the town well. She walks past a goat pen, occasionally glancing at a young man with sandy hair. She pretends to not notice when he looks her way. She moves up the road as the young man watches her leave, his eyes bright and full of warmth.

    Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
    The heart-shaped crystal seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel gazes into the distance, a slight blush creeping over his skin.


    A beautiful meadow comes into view. A young woman with golden hair sits among a field of wildflowers. A young man sits by her side as he takes her hand in his. He gently strokes her skin as he gazes into her eyes. She closes her eyes as he lightly kisses each one. When he moves away, she gazes at her hand with wonder, a narrow silver ring set with a tiny heart-shaped crystal glistening in the sunlight.

    Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
    The heart-shaped crystal seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel holds up his hand, tilting it slightly.


    Your eyesight grows dim, a foggy scene coming into view. The young man lies in a bed, his brow feverish. He gazes at a hand-drawn picture of a beautiful young lady. As his breathing labors, he writes on the back of the portrait, folds the parchment and places it inside a small box. With the last of his strength, he places a small heart-shaped crystal inside the box and closes his eyes. The young man breathes one last time as he sinks back into his pillow.

    Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
    The heart-shaped crystal seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel's eyes stare off, unfocused, as his exhales.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  8. Default

    Adding a Loresong:

    It is now possible to get a loresong added on in the script/zest spot. This, I speculate, means it will be easier to get a loresong added than it used to be, but the item getting the loresong cannot already have a zest/script on it. It also is a bit more unwieldy in it's application as the loresong is not flexible enough to change if you get the item altered. As such, when the loresong is added, apparently, it requires a note by the GM to approve future alterations and those alterations likely cannot change the item from what the loresong indicates.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  9. Default

    Got this done recently, thanks to Jace Solo! Thanks! It's a large part of the back story I created for Japhrimel ages ago. Was so excited to finally get to create it.

    a suede-wrapped black ora dagger - The slender needle-like blade of this dagger appears ancient, the fine carving and detailed designs having faded with time. At the base of the weapon is a jagged end, suggesting that this weapon was originally the tip of a much larger pike blade. Simple black suede has been used to bind the lower portion, creating a serviceable grip. The base of the grip has been tied off around a single despanal bead carved into the likeness of a fox.


    Focusing on the dagger, your vision turns dark. You blink and find yourself on a battlefield filled with sights of carnage and loss. A tightly formed squadron of Faendryl match blades with a small party of orcs, until the eyes of one of their own fill with madness and he turns on his allies, wielding a black ora pike. The scene fades, replaced by another. The same man, weeping, bashes his pike against a granite outcropping until it shatters, but one piece splinters off and takes him in the neck.

    The black ora dagger seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel trembles slightly as tears leak from his eyes as he sings.


    Sound and sight merge into a new scene. The unmistakable sound of a woman crying fills the interior of a well-appointed home. The door stands ajar as two Faendryl men carry in a lidless coffin and place it on marble blocks. Inside it, another Faendryl tightly grips a broken blade of black ora, a look of revulsion permanently twisting his cold features. One of the pallbearers pries the shard from his mortal grip and passes it to a red-haired Faendryl youth. The crying waxes until the vision fades away.

    The black ora dagger seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel stares intently at the dagger as he sings, his tone demanding.


    You renew your focus upon the dagger and your vision grows hazy. A series of visions crowd your sight, two similar scenes appearing over and over. A wild battle ends in the death of a Faendryl with a black ora pike, sometimes at the hands of enemies, sometimes at the hands of allies on whom he's turned. A young boy is handed a black ora weapon over the body of his father, those who hand it to him always grim, silent, and brusque.

    The black ora dagger seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel stares at the dagger he holds with a look of growing revulsion.


    Your song strains to coalesce into one final vision. A cacophony of sights rush past, each seemingly farther backward in time. In each, a Faendryl fights, goes mad, and dies. Back, and back further, till his skin lightens and nothing separates him from regular elves, til his pike too pales to plain ora. On one last battlefield, an elven army faces an onslaught of the undead. Robed elves stand in a circle, chanting, and before them forms a rift. The rift opens and all fades to black.

    The black ora dagger seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
    Japhrimel finishes his song and nearly flings the dagger from him in disgust.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

  10. Default

    a simple ebonwood box with delicate vaalin tracery - gem message box

    Your vision suddenly clouds, the magic of the box mingling with the sound of your voice and creating a vision that slowly unfolds before you...

    In a large and opulent chamber, a young maiden sits at a table, weeping. A much older man, who could only be her father, storms out of the scene, slamming a large gilt oak door behind him. The poor girl, obviously broken-hearted, picks up a small silver box, places a small star ruby within it, and closes the lid. Although hard to see because of how close she holds it to her body, it appears that her delicately pale fingers have toggled a small switch recessed into the bottom of the box. She then rubs the box and whispers a name, slowly and with precision, to the box...

    Your vision begins to clear, and suddenly you find yourself as you were.


    Your vision suddenly clouds, the magic of the box mingling with the sound of your voice and creating a vision that slowly unfolds before you...

    The young maid still sits at her desk, holding the box as before. She glances around, perhaps nervous at the magic she is even now practicing, and toggles the switch again. Once more she rubs the box, and then whispers something, a message, to her beloved. The box pulses with magic in response to her words, then settles.

    Your vision begins to clear, and suddenly you find yourself as you were.


    Your vision clouds again, the sensation becoming more normal. The scene unfolds again...

    The young maid rubs her box again, and this time she listens intently. A silent voice from within suddenly repeats back the very words she just spoke to it! With a smile on her face and a content nod, she removes the star ruby and sets the box aside. Moments later, she calls a messenger and tells him to deliver this gem to someone with all expediency.

    Your vision clears again, and suddenly you find yourself as you were.


    Your vision clouds rapidly, but you are staring into a different scene. A courtyard, wide and green with flowering bushes and roses, surrounds a great fountain in the middle of the carriage drive.

    The messenger from before hands the ruby to a young man, who removes to another part of the courtyard. He rubs the ruby, and it suddenly glows an eerie pale green, revealing the image of the maiden from before! Her pale and beautiful form whispers something quietly to the young man, and he smiles as only a young man in love would. The ruby seems to turn to dust in his hand as the image fades.

    You vision rapidly clears, and you find yourself as you were.
    Japhrimel takes his black branding iron and jabs the superheated metal into your open wound. You let out a scream as the hot iron sizzles against your flesh, which begins to smoke and burn. The sensation sets your nerves aflame with blinding white agony, but somehow you manage to retain consciousness through the excruciating procedure. At last, the wound is blackened and sealed, but the pain is slow to recede.

    ...unfortunately, your heart gives out a moment later.

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