Piece of dark grey rubble

This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.

Item

a piece of dark grey rubble

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The dark grey rubble appears to be a small lump of a rock, its deep grey surface striated with bands of black and speckles of brown. A few simple runic carvings run in a spiral around its surface, their primitive forms the only adornment to the otherwise mundane rock.

Details

Scripts:
RUB: You rub the dark grey rubble, and a deep thrumming sound like boulders rolling together echoes in your mind -- the sensation begins to cause your whole hand to shake, until it fades away like a mere echo on the winds of time.

Loresong

You find yourself drawn to the surface of the rubble, its mottled grey pattern and streaks of black a curiosity. You become lost in the haze of grey stone as if it was your entire world. And you realize, just as you slip into its memories... that it is.

You soar among the highest clouds, transfixed as you watch the landscape unfold below you. You spy the form of a village underneath the shadow of a great mountain, its spire taller than the other peaks surrounding it. Your vision centers upon a great stone platform upon the grassy valley, to where a man garbed in black hide robes stands before a semi-circle of villagers. The massive mountain looms just behind him as he speaks.

The vision slowly fades away as the people watch the man, enthralled by his words.

You're plunged back into the depths of the rubble, where the shaman speaks to his people...

"The time of great prosperity is upon us, for soon the Earthen Father will awaken, as foretold by my grandfather's father and his father before him!"

The people murmur appreciatively and hopeful smiles blossom on their faces.

"We must honor the Earthen Father, for he watches over us all," The shaman gestures toward the massive mountain. A slight tremor passes through the ground, and you watch as the shaman goes wide-eyed.

Startled gasps echo around the area as your vision pulls up toward the mountain. You hear a faint cry of, "Do not be afraid, it is the Earthen Father! It is him!"

As your field of vision readjusts, you see the spire of the mountain - and two very large, unblinking eyes peering down in an almost curious fashion at the village below. Darkness overcomes your mind's eye as you're returned to the normal world...

As your vision returns to the tiny village beneath, you hear the familiar voice of the shaman upon the wind...

"You see, you see? He is here, watching us!" The man's smile is near maddening in its intensity, and there are a few less people in the semi-circle than you first remembered. "The time of the prophecy is upon us! We will see such great prosperity, prosperity not known for hundreds upon hundreds of years!"

The people all fall to their knees and bow, reassured by their spiritual leader's words. In the background, you see other people quietly going about their lives, apparently oblivious to the strange goings-on. Far above, the eyes swivel slowly back and forth, the expression unchanging as they quietly observe. You feel a faint rumbling in the ground, shifting in its intensity like a soft laughter. The rumblings increase in pitch, and you watch as the ring of people's confidence begin to waver. The shaman turns toward the mountain as the people begin to murmur worriedly, and says, "Do you not hear?! The Earthen Father, he is joyful and laughing, laughing with joy for his people!"

Rocks begin to tumble down the mountain as the vision comes to a close...

You feel yourself being drawn into the depths of the rubble...

The rumblings in the surroundings increase, and the ground shudders and heaves from the tremors. You see the shaman raising his arms in supplication toward the mountain, his eyes bright with unwavering dedication and pure bliss as he watches what he's devoted his life to come alive before him.

Behind him, the people murmur hurried prayers, their faith obviously teetering as the shaking becomes increasingly violent.

High above on the mountain peaks, boulders begin to quiver from their ancient resting places, unknowingly worked free by the ever-stronger tremors. They tumble down the slopes, toward the little village of wood and thatch. Seconds seem like days as the first boulder crashes into one hut, then another, and another. The screams of terrified people fill your ears as the rumbles slowly decrease in their intensity.

The shaman's eyes are a mixture of horror and sadness, and he casts down his staff and yells out to the mountain and the heavens, "Why! Why would you do this to your peo --" He is cut short as a boulder crashes onto the site, crushing the stone platform and presumably anyone standing upon it.

Far above, you see the eyes give the briefest impression of confusion, and then they fade into the rock again as the villagers flee from its shadow.

The vision comes to a complete close, and you find yourself back in reality again.