The Griffin Sword Saga (storyline)/Cerisago and Deshian loresong

In June, 2004, in the latter half of the Griffin Sword Saga, a chest of items belonging to the erithian merchants Cerisago and Deshian was recovered. Among the contents was a thin bracelet of blue spinels braided together with fine golden chains, which had a loresong concerning the married couple. In it, Deshian references being hired by the Dark Alliance to pursue a means to bring the banshee Harith, a psonic formerly in life, back to a corporeal form.

Contents

Located inside of a small jeweled box were:

• a fern-painted golden silk scarf
• a dark grey leather belt
• a gold and ebony tiger statuette
• a thin bracelet of blue spinels braided together with fine golden chains
• a pearl-set mistwood ring
• a golden orchid-and-fairy statuette
• a supple brown gloves lined with snowcat fur
• a pewter bowl chased with patterns of dragonflies
• a carved ebony piccolo
• a slender golden ring
• a small pouch of garnet-hued silk

Verse One

You sing:

 "Spinel bracelet wrapped in chains of gold
 One again may your story unfold."

As the delicate bracelet vibrates in response to your song, the world fades away, and you enter a vision.

A man sits at a table and carefully packs small items into a backpack from a pile at his elbow. He is obviously of Erithian descent -- to be most accurate, a member of the Tichan Dai. His ears are slightly pointed, and golden flecks shimmer in his pale green eyes. He inspects each trinket carefully before putting it away, and a small jeweled box, a fern-painted golden silk scarf, and a dark grey leather belt pass through his hands and into the box before he realizes he has company in the room.

"I was bringing you lunch," the woman says quietly in Erithian. Her eyes are the blue of a clear summer day, and the fine braids woven into her silvery hair fall in a long fringe from her bald crown. She looks down at the plate of bread and salad in her hands as if she does not quite know why it is there, and then asks, "What are you doing?"

"Trade goods," the man replies. "If this project is to succeed, I'll need every advantage, and I don't have any wizards allied to my side -- not to mention needing a decent skinner. Wehnimer's is lousy with barter. It shouldn't take long at all."

She frowns and sets down the tray. "You're going to Wehnimer's?" Clear worry rings in her voice.

The vision fades away.

Roundtime: 10 sec.

Verse Two

You sing:

 "Bracelet, I ask you continue your story
 Of this man's profit and woman's worry."

The vision begins precisely where it left off.

The man looks up at her, now, and he frowns as well.

"You didn't think I could complete my study from here, did you? Come, Cerisago, be true to your mind. I must aid them in order to complete my study."

"It worries me that they know about us now. What if a wild elf decides to put an arrow through you?" she asks.

"What if, what if..." He dismisses her objection with an airy wave of one hand as he selects a gold and ebony tiger statuette and adds it to the backpack. "They were just as likely to do so when they thought we were half-elves. We have observed them and known them for far too long. You have no reason to be afraid." Then his expression sharpens, and he says, "It's the priests, isn't it. You're afraid of them."

She sighs and crosses her arms as she leans against the white doorframe. "Anyone rational would be. They have too much power, and I do not trust their actions. It seems such a simple thing, to piece together a sword, but why so much effort? So much worry? Why you?"

The vision swims away again as your verse ends.

Roundtime: 11 sec.

Verse Three

You sing:

 "Delicate Bracelet, they comprehend your words
 Finish the conversation of this sword."

When the vision reforms, you see a frown upon the Erithian woman's face as she listens to the man.

"I do not care about their sword," he says. "I care about the project -- a far greater test than their silly chase, if only they had sense enough to realize! There has never been a chance like it for any of our people -- or for anyone." Light catches the embossed slitted eye upon the silver medallion around his neck as he rises to his feet. "Think of it, Ceri! How much of the mind truly remains? How much of the spirit truly remains?" Impulsively, he clasps her left hand in both of his. "They are trying to bring the power of a savant back after that savant is already dead beyond redemption. I will know and I will be the first to know, and I will record and share what I know. It will be an honor like no other."

Cerisago pulls her hand away. "This is folly," she says angrily. "You're Tichan Dai born and wed -- you're not some Eloth Dai to go prancing off on a magical whim! You speak of honor like no other -- no, it will be a death like no other. You belong in Eloth-Ra," she pleads. "We both do."

"My duty --" he begins.

"Duty be accursed forever! The power of the Eye has not touched you since you began your elemental studies -- you were better off as a cleric!" At least then you felt Him, knew that He watched you..." The woman shivers visibly.

The man's face is like stone as he says, "He watches still. Sorcery will not turn the Eye aside -- such things are Fash'lo'nae's way. He will ever be my patron, and I will ever be His servant." He rises then, saying, "I need to get something from the back room."

Again, the vision fails you.

Roundtime: 11 sec.

Verse Four

You sing:

 "Braided bracelet, sing of my kind
 And their duty to which they bind."

The hues of the vision seem stronger as it reforms, and your music draws you more deeply beneath the enchantment this time.

She starts toward him, and then she pauses, glancing into the backpack. She dips her hand in and removes a thin bracelet of blue spinels braided together with fine golden chains. "This -- this is mine," she says in a small voice. "You gave it to me."

Surprised, he turns to her. "But you don't want it," he says in a matter-of-fact way. "You never wear it, Ceri, and you have such prettier jewels packed away. It's just trade goods." He slips the bracelet out of her hand and back into the backpack. "If you miss it, I'll buy you another, but I need it right now. Trade goods."

She stands very still as he leaves the room. Then she investigates the inside of the backpack, taking each item out one by one and running her fingertips over it. The pearl-set mistwood ring, the golden orchid-and-fairy statuette, the supple brown gloves lined with snowcat fur, the pewter bowl chased with patterns of dragonflies -- tears well up in her sky blue eyes as she touches the bowl, and then her fingertips trace the contours of a carved ebony piccolo, and then the vision wavers in your eyes as if you yourself were blinking away the tears.

Your sight clears, but the vision fails to reform, and the magic of your music dies.

Roundtime: 9 sec.

Verse Five

You sing:

 "Spinel bracelet with more to tell
 Sing your verse for a spell."

It takes more coaxing, this time, to convince the vision to return, but your song finally succeeds.

After repacking everything piece by piece, the Erithian woman stares for a long moment at the backpack, twisting a slender golden ring back and forth on her finger. Finally, with a sigh, she slips it off and deposits it into the little pile of treasure that sit beside the backpack, and then she leaves the room.

After an immeasurable time, the man reenters the room and returns to his seat at the table. He notices the ring immediately, and he picks it up and turns it around to examine it from all angles. With a sigh, he slips the matching ring off his own finger, and then he locates a small pouch of garnet-hued silk to contain the pair. He touches the slit-eyed silver medallion around his neck before he pulls the pouch's drawstring tight and drops it into the backpack. Then he continues his work, considering trinkets one by one, accepting or discarding them with care.

He finally finishes his work and pushes the unacceptable trinkets to the side. As he closes the backpack and swings it up to his shoulder, the vision ends.

Roundtime: 8 sec.