Mhoragian pony medallion

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This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.


a Mhoragian pony medallion


The round, oak medallion is carved in bas-relief and the edge is trimmed in hammered gold. The carving depicts a shaggy pony at full stride, a halfling riding upon its back with a drawn bow at the ready. Surrounding the center carving are dozens of tiny, glass beads in a multitude of colors to create a traditional Truefolk pattern.


No other details are known.


As your song caresses the medallion, the world around you abruptly disappears. You suddenly find yourself to be another person in another time.

You are standing on the crest of a hill, the grassy steppes spread out before you, and the wind is ruffling your hair. You are with a group of young halflings, all gathered around a teacher. The teacher is mounted on a shaggy pony, demonstrating proper seat, how to hold the reins, and foot positioning.

You eagerly watch the teacher put the pony through her paces and feel an excitement welling up within you. The other halfling students have the same eager and rapt look on their faces.

As the notes of your song fade, the vision ceases and you become aware of yourself again.

As you again focus your voice on the medallion, you are quickly pulled away.

This time you are mounted on a sturdy pony of your own. Spread out on either side, your classmates are also mounted on similar ponies.

The teacher barks out commands, and you respond, issuing instructions to your pony with a tap of your heel or a touch of the rein. You are filled with a sense of wonder at how easily you and your pony work together, as if the two of you are one.

You feel a side-slipping through time, and the scene changes. You have a bow in your hands with an arrow nocked. At the teacher's command, you gallop your pony towards a distant target. As soon as the target is in range, you fire your arrow.

A flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks as your arrow flies wide. Returning to your class, you have to endure good-natured ribbing as you vow to do better next time.

Class finishes and you sit astride your pony, looking out over the steppes that stretch from horizon to horizon. The wind is a constant companion as it blows your hair and sweeps across the tall grasses in waves. You feel a longing to take your pony and ride free, but the time has not yet come.

The scene flickers out of your mind all at once, bringing you back to your current surroundings.

The notes of your song barely touch the medallion before your surroundings shift.

You are mounted on your pony once more. The wind whips your hair about your face as you gallop across the vast expanse of the steppes. Time has passed, and you feel older -- your body has changed, and you are aware of being on the brink of adulthood.

A feeling of exaltation courses through you, and you experience a deep joy at your freedom as you ride across the great grasslands. Your pony echoes your thoughts and snorts in pleasure as he runs with you upon his back.

You experience another side-slip in time and vision. As your vision clears, you are still astride your galloping pony, but this time you have an arrow at the ready, and a herd of antelope is before you.

You press your knee, and your pony responds immediately as you single a buck out of the running herd. You take careful aim and bring the beast down, a clean shot. A triumphant rapture fills you as you rejoice in your successful hunt.

In a flash the vision disappears.

This time, as your song encases the medallion, the vision unfolds slowly in a swirl of color. Acres of brightly decorated gers spread out in all directions, and throngs of Truefolk wander about laughing, singing, and playing.

The vision shifts, and you find yourself standing in a large, ceremonial circle. An expectant hush is over the crowd as your matriarch speaks. She calls your name and the names of your classmates.

You all step forward in unison. The matriarch looks at you, her eyes bright with pride, then places a pony medallion around your neck, signifying your status as a rider of your tribe.

The people around you cheer and rejoice as the circle breaks up to go celebrate. Two members of your tribe grab you and hoist you onto their shoulders, laughing as they haul you away to the feasting.

Your vision shifts again. It is late in the evening and the sounds of celebrating have died down. You are alone with your pony. As you wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face into his soft, shaggy hide, he whickers softly in response. The vision slowly fades a final time.