Loresongs

[shad0ws0ngs]

Coped from the appraisal folder:

Looks like it's one of the old Voln weapons. Cycles 2x-7x vs undead, sancted, not blessable, flares vs undead in hands of cleric/pally, anyone can use to sense undead.

http://forum.gsplayers.com/archive/i...p/t-84899.html

a white ora balta

First loresong:

The first thing that strikes you about the balta is the weight, which is about 6 pounds. You also feel that it is invaluable.

You sense the aura of magic about the balta. It obviously has more than one use, and it is a weapon of great power.

The balta responds softly in long, peaceful descending tones. You learn that tapping or waving the balta can activate the magic woven within.

So, I tap the balta (non cleric) and get this:

You tap the balta and it starts to hum softly...

Suddenly the balta begins to spew out a cloud of pale blue smoke! The world around you suddenly looks different. Solid things around you suddenly look misty and insubstantial.
You do not sense any more undead nearby.

The next loresing reveals:

The balta's tones become stronger and the world dissolves away. As your sight clears, you appear to be kneeling before an altar. Before you stands an imposing grim-faced man dressed in battle-worn black chainmail topped with a white surcoat. Slung over his shoulder is a shield of the purest white metal you have ever seen. The man turns to you and nods slowly as he reaches for something atop the altar. He pulls the balta from the top of the altar and balances it carefully in his hands. He gestures and utters an ancient phrase and the balta begins to glow with an inner blue light. Drained from his effort he pauses a moment, then he turns and hands the balta to you. As your hands reach out for the balta the vision fades and slowly the world as you know it returns to solidity around you.

[shad0ws0ngs]

From the spot where the first root came out, before the root invasion tonight:


a bloodstained dark steel helm

Your vision blurs and you see a burly Hendoran soldier moving dutifully through the forest, when suddenly the ground breaks open around him and a tangled mass of glistening black roots lurch upward, coiling around his body and dragging him into the ground as he screams!



a tattered and bloodstained silver tabard embroidered with a blue rising phoenix

Your vision blurs and you see the image of a Hendoran knight almost completely entombed in a twisting mass of black roots, skin flayed from bones and blood seeping from a hundred open wounds as he is dragged through a tunnel, finally disappearing into darkness.

Your vision blurs...dirt and rock have been almost entirely engulfed by a vast network of twisting black roots, coiling and stretching about to cover nearly every inch of wall and ground. Periodically, the roots heave and stretch, reminiscent of giant veins pumping with blood.

[shad0ws0ngs]

totally repeated myself, pah.

[shad0ws0ngs]

a forked hazel divining rod - Beginning as a sturdy stick, this divining rod soon divides into nine separate branches, each one tapered to a fine point. The bark has been peeled off, leaving the rod smooth and splinter-free.

As you gaze at the hazel divining rod in your hands, the image of a cozy cottage takes shape before your eyes. A young girl sits by the hearth, listening with rapt attention as her grandmother describes the mysteries of divination. The old woman taps one finger to the side of her nose and winks at the girl, binding her to secrecy. The fire crackles and you can almost smell the sap burning off the wood.

The cottage reappears, but this time the two women are just outside it, standing in a small herb garden. The old woman holds out her divining rod, letting her granddaughter touch the smooth wood. After pointing out the different branching ends, the woman places the young girl's small hands over her own time-worn fingers, and together they grip the rod, feeling its vibration.

This time, you see mostly blackness. As you adjust to the change, you begin to make out a small figure. Holding a knife in one hand, the girl walks cautiously around a field at night, jumping sideways with every sudden sound in the darkness. Little more than a sliver in the sky, Liabo casts barely enough light for her to find the hazel hedge at the far end. Upon locating it, she searches carefully through the dense structure to find the perfect twig, which she cuts off with her knife.

The familiar scene inside the cottage reappears, its warmth welcoming after that stark and lonely night. Back by the fire, the girl sits next to her grandmother and carves the rod under her watchful gaze. The old woman says something, and the two of them laugh in unison, identical sparks dancing in the depths of their ageless eyes. The vision fades slowly, leaving you with a sense of connection to these two unknown women.

[shad0ws0ngs]

Aralyte's soulstone - apparently she is alive.


a brilliant red soulstone suspended by a frayed leather cord

Your vision blurs and your surroundings shift to reveal a blanket of suffocating darkness. In the distance, ribbons of blood red light seep across the sky, bathing the horizon in an eerie copper glow. Nearby, you hear a chorus of low, guttural moaning.

Your vision blurs and your surroundings shift to reveal a vast landscape of battered grey rock, with veins of shadowy liquid stretched across it like black webbing. The blasted dirt begins to move, peeling apart to reveal itself not as stone, but as gnarled demonic beings, each one stretching out their membranous wings and taking flight.

Your vision blurs and your surroundings shift, just as the last segments of the wasteland break apart. A lone figure stands upon the back of a slowly rousing demon, her long grey gossamer cloak flowing about her like light from the moon. She screams as a demon appears behind her, clawing at her face as she falls back into the darkness. As she disappears into the depths, the now frayed cord around her neck slips off and a brilliant red soulstone is left behind.

Your vision blurs and your surroundings shift to reveal a glistening sea of murky black blood. The bloodshot sky casts a crimson sheen along the expanse of shadowy liquid, and all along its surface floats the bloated corpses of deformed creatures. Slowly drifting into view is the body of a dark elven woman, wounds and sigils covering her face as she glides by, halfway submerged in the blood. Suddenly, her feystone-hued eyes snap open, and your vision ends.

[shad0ws0ngs]

a yellowed bone wand capped with a blackened skull


Images of long ago swirl before your eyes: a palace, a King, and a jester. The jester is faithful to his King and is loved by the court. The images slowly fade leaving you hungry to learn more.

You are surrounded by images of war. The palace is on fire! You can almost feel the heat. The jester looks crushed by the death of his King. An evil conqueror and his magician plot against those faithful to the old King. The images slowly fade away.

You are entranced by misty visions swirling about you like lost souls. You find yourself in a dungeon. You can hear the screams of the tortured. The magician looks confused at the jester, unsure of what to do with him.

Then with a maniacal laugh the magician takes the jester's wand and gestures. The jester screams and disolves into a mist which is absorbed into the wand. The magician does not seem pleased with the result, though, and tosses the wand aside and never returns for it. The images slowly disolve, awakening you from your trance-like state

[shad0ws0ngs]

some matte black vaalorn armor inlaid with pearl and emerald runes

The harmonic vibrations that your song evokes in the black vaalorn armor convey a sense of great age. At a rough estimate, the armor is worth 3 silver, but a collector of antiquities might be willing to offer a significantly greater sum.


As the black vaalorn armor responds to your song, you sense echoes of ancient enchantment drifting softly through the resonances. It is difficult to say whether or not the armor is innately magical, but, if not, then it has certainly been exposed to a great deal of magical energy over an extended period of time.


The resonances of your music caress the ancient weave of enchantment within the black vaalorn armor. You recognize both spiritual and elemental components, twisted together and permanently altered into a new form -- the unmistakable taint of sorcery.


As you sing to the black vaalorn armor, you evoke the image of a short man with silver-streaked hair. He holds the black vaalorn armor in his hands, studying it intently. As he turns it over, its brilliant gems glitter brightly as they catch the light, and he nods his approval. He signals to a liveried servant nearby, and the servant quickly comes to take the armor away. The vision drifts away from you as your verse ends.


Another vision comes -- a fleeting image of a ship's aging gangplank. Muscular human stevedores load the vessel under the wary, watchful eye of a liveried servant. The image of a silver hunting hound cradled in a white lily has been embroidered on the sleeve of his tunic. With sharp words, he orders the stevedores to take care with his master's cargo, and, as your senses narrow upon one particular coffer, you sense this black vaalorn armor lying inside, so many centuries ago.

The vision flickers away, vanishing from your mind.


The vibrations of the black vaalorn armor craft the image of a vast treasure room in your mind. This vision is much stronger than the image of the ship had been, for the black vaalorn armor lay there for a much greater period of time. Guttering torches shed orange light across shimmering piles of gold and gems, all carefully fenced about by a web of sorceric enchantment. You sense human figures in the room, but their presences are frail and fleeting -- they come, they gaze, they touch, but they only rarely take anything away. Only the treasure remains through the years.

The vision draws to an end.


The image of the treasure room coalesces once more in your mind's eye, captured by the vibrations of your song.

The torches gutter and die, and people no longer come, but the treasure endures still. There are bejeweled dishes, gilded musical instruments, ceremonial pieces of armor and weaponry, exquisite jewels with a sparkling fire sufficient to make gnomes faint, and more beyond that, but it has all left to gather dust in an age when people no longer come to admire it. In the shadowy darkness, the treasure remains, and the web of sorcery remains, for years... decades... centuries.

Your verse winds to an end, and the image fades away.


The harmonics from the black vaalorn armor draw you back to the treasure room, but something has changed -- the sorceric web has been damaged, and its enchantments wend over the trove in a different fashion. You sense the uneasy power of the earth, and your music brings you to comprehend that an earthquake that wrought this change, shifting the arcane balance in a small but subtle fashion.

Time passes... you sense the years marching silently past as the vision slips away.


In the last fleeting, faint resonances from the black vaalorn armor, you see the treasure chamber a fourth time, and you sense presences in the chamber once more. They have conquered the web of sorcery and come to take the spoils, and dust billows up with every step. Somewhere in the chamber, there lies some matte black vaalorn armor inlaid with pearl and emerald runes, awaiting the touch of a new owner. A new owner comes, and you feel the hands touching the armor's surface as if that surface were your skin. A wave of dizziness washes over you as the new person picks up the armor, and, in that dizziness, your verse ends.

The vision wavers away into nothingness.


The sense of great age returns in the resonances of the black vaalorn armor, but you can detect nothing new from the armor.

[shad0ws0ngs]

From Duskruin - http://forum.gsplayers.com/showthrea...13#post1794413

The realm weapons have nifty loresongs, or the Eonake morning star I bought does at least

The first thing that strikes you about the star is the sturdy craftmanship, the uncanny balance, and the elegant design. The metal from which the star is crafted feels strangely heavy in your hand. You sense rare, wild magics in the weapon, magics that are tied in some elemental fashion to time and place.

Your voice strains to overcome the protective properties of a spiked eonake morning star. An image, faint at first, forms slowly in your mind. An ancient forge lit by a small, white hot fire. A leather-aproned dwarf, hammer in hand, squinting against the bright fire, intently examining the still hot weapon. A gentle tap here, a feathery touch there, each made with quiet confidence, each touch of hammer to weapon almost a prayer.

The scene shifts as you continue your song. A stone croft on some remote, barren mountainside. Beside the croft, a stone structure resembling a well, but filled with what appears to be peculiar orange sand. The edge of the star is immersed to the hilt in this odd sand. The dwarven smithy stands well to one side as the sand begins to roil and shift. Waves of power emanate from the sand, enveloping the weapon. Lightning flashes, flames dance around the rim of the structure, the ground rattles, wisps of icy blue fire encircle the weapon, the harsh stink of acid envelopes the area.

[shad0ws0ngs]

Ardwen says, "That is the very first forehead gem."

a perfectly cut emerald blazestar


Your song coaxes the gem in your hand to open up a whole new world for you. Suddenly, you see yourself within the corridors of a magnificent palace. Everyone else in the castle seems to be either unaware of you or is ignoring you. Beautifully embroidered crimson tapestries adorn the walls of the great halls within. Centered upon each tapestry is the regal crest of House Faendryl. You reach your destination, a door at the end of the hall, right before the vision fades from your sight.


The emerald blazestar gives up its secrets willingly to your voice. Your eyes are filled with the scene of a plush bedroom occupied by a beautiful dark elven lass and her handmaidens. A silver tiara sits upon a mirrored armoire in one corner of the room. Your eyes scan the mirror quickly, which reveals the reflection of a wizened dark elf entering the room. Slowly, the vision removes itself from your sight.


You continue to bathe your emerald blazestar in gentle melody. Soon, your nostrils are assaulted by the scent of rose petals. Your eyes cloud over and you're back in the dark elven lass' bedchamber, a room fit for a princess. The old man is there too, but you catch him as he is embracing the young girl affectionately, but not passionately. A small pin bearing the Sorcerer's Guild insignia adorns his black robes. As he retreats from the embrace, he opens his hand, revealing a number of sparkling gems within. He says to the girl, "For you and your handmaidens, my dear, on the occasion of your wedding. It is only a small token of my fondness for you and your father. May the beauty of these gems always pale in comparison to your own." A smile lights up the girl's face as she gets up to hug the old mage. Just as you begin to understand what you're seeing, the vision spins away in a haze.


Your song gets the emerald blazestar to reveal its long-held story. Images begin pouring into your mind at a frantic pace. You see a majestic ship getting ready to set sail. A beautiful elven princess, wearing a faintly glowing gem on her forehead, is surrounded by a number of handmaidens all wearing similar gems. They wave from the deck of the ship at a large crowd assembled at the dock. At the front of the crowd is the old sorcerer from the previous visions standing next to an aged Faendryl wearing a golden crown. The scene fades and is replaced by another, of the crown-wearing Faendryl and the sorcerer standing in a torch-lit chamber. A single tear sweeps down the face of the monarch. The sorcerer pauses for a moment and speaks, "Sire, they will pay with a thousand deaths for what they did to our beloved princess or I will die trying to make it so."

That vision too spins away, and is replaced by another of a large island filled with what were once magnificent buildings that are now wrecked and ruined. Smoldering heaps mark the landscape of the island. A scant number of ships dot the harbor of the isle. Your view soars towards one of the ships, upon which stands the aged sorcerer, anger and hate filling totally black eyes. You snap out of the vision a bit startled.


Your singing allows you to pull a vision from the grasp of the emerald blazestar. It starts slowly at first, part of your field of view still being filled with your actual surroundings. Soon, though, your attention is focused on a cache of gems falling through ocean-green water, causing ripples as they do. Finally, after what seems like a very long time they hit the bottom. The vision fades as this happens and is replaced with image-after-image of storm and wave crashing across the surface and floor of the ocean you were just staring at.

Large and small things alike from the ocean's depth are thrust here and there, and spread across the vastness of the ocean. The tides leave some strangely untouched, and others are spread to the four corners of Elanthia.


You barely begin to carry a tune as the gem unravels its mysteries for you. Two halflings are diving to the ocean surface, equipped with raggedy equipment, and fishing nets, their lines coming from a large ship sailing with a pirate flag on its mast. They catch various forms of tropical fish and other ocean habitations, placing them in small jars they've brought with them. Once the jar is filled they tie it to a line and the jar is quickly snatched back up towards the ship. After some time, some shiny objects on the ocean floor catch their attention and they dive for them. After examining the faintly glowing gems they retrieve, they smile brightly, and return to the ship.

[Ardwen]

Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
The emerald blazestar seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
Japhrimel begins to sing to his emerald blazestar. As he does so, his eyes begin darting about quickly, as if trying to take a racing image in.
>
Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
The emerald blazestar seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
Japhrimel sings to his emerald blazestar for only a short while before his eyes glaze over.
>
Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
The emerald blazestar seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
Japhrimel sings gently to his emerald blazestar. Oddly, his nostrils twitch slightly as if they were exposed to a strong scent. his eyes cloud over soon as the twitching subsides but he snaps out of it.
>
Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
The emerald blazestar seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
Japhrimel sings gently to his emerald blazestar. his eyes dart to-and-fro, not able to stay in one place. After a few moments, he snaps out of his trance a bit startled.
>
Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
The emerald blazestar seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
Japhrimel sings gently to his emerald blazestar. he begins to stare out into the distance wistfully. After a few moments he regains his former composure.
>
Japhrimel sings something in Guildspeak that you don't understand.
The emerald blazestar seems to respond to the magic of Japhrimel's song.
Japhrimel sings gently to his emerald blazestar. he begins to stare into the palm of his hand for a few moments before shaking it off. You can swear that the emerald blazestar began sparkling brighter for a few moments.



Japhrimel positions a perfectly cut emerald blazestar between his eyes so that it casts a sparkling ocean green sheen across his face.
>
Speaking in Guildspeak, Japhrimel exclaims something you don't understand.
>
Japhrimel exclaims, "I'm a pretty pretty princess!"
>
(Japhrimel twirls.)