Teardrop-shaped dragonfire pendant

This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.

Item

a teardrop-shaped dragonfire pendant

Show

This item has no show or no show has been provided.

Details

This pendant was said to date from the slaughter of dwarves in the opal mines of Solhaven.

Loresong

A kaleidoscope of colors swirl and blend, dizzying at first until they shear off into a misty illusion. Slowly the image becomes more constructed than confused, and restful to the mind's eye. Tendrils of fog dance about, moving in and out of your field of vision. Clearing, you see tall sandstone cliffs buffeted by wind and rain, standing at the edge of a bay.

Fog continues to dissipate, the dawn light pale and golden upon the beige walls. Dark sand at the base is littered with driftwood and garlands of seaweed, still damp from the receding tide. A small depression darkly mars the cliff foundation, and several gathered dwarves peer cautiously into it. One lights a torch of rags and oil, then bravely heads inside. Several others shrug and follow as the rest await news.

As you sing, you learn that the curious grouping has emerged, and excitedly they tell of the great riches they have found. A couple of the dwarves pull out sextants and charts, glancing at sky and then sea, conferring with the clan. Others quickly gesture to the nearby woods, and move off to gather timber for fires and branches for makeshift shelters. Your vision zooms in, moving to the center of those still gathered near the cave. In the outstretched palm of one dwarf sits a rough opal, beautifully sparkling with its internal fire.

Time seems to pass in a rapid blur. Wealth has been amassed from the mining and polishing of the fiery gems, a good living from which the clan prospers. An enclave built nearby, an attempt to set up a community in the surroundings. A small hunting party heads out, with bows and arrows, seeking provisions for the coming months.

Another blur as the vision shifts, and the providers return laden with deer and rabbit, only to find the fires long cold and the silence oppressive. Coming into the center of their hub, the slaughter is evident and horrifying.

A wash of crimson greets your song, like a wall of blood, fading somewhat you see a liter mounded with limbs being dragged along a path solemnly. The savagery of the attack apparent from the ruthless dismemberment, the few remaining souls accompanying the funereal march stare straight ahead in shock and sorrow.

A loud roar of rushing water draws close with every step, finally coming upon a tall waterfall splashing down over several boulders. Using a fulcrum and their combined weight, one such rock is shifted slightly, opening a huge depression into which the remains are deposited.

The dwarves christen the place "The Cascade of Tears" and then turn their backs away from the shore, heading into the mountains to mourn.

A soft voice whispers, "Tell of what you have learned to others, that the story within lives, for there is no more to learn."