An orb-inset fel talisman (Platinum 2009)

The orb-inset fel talisman was an auction item at Ebon Gate 2009's auction. In Platinum, it was won by a Mularos-aligned character and has a custom loresong built around the character.

Show

A delicate strip of fel wood shaped like a slightly curved stem winds down from a simple rope cord. At the base of the stem, the fel spreads out into a circle, which, though subtle in its appearance, is carved into the shape of a rose, with sheafs of wood representing the petals. A dark orb sits in the center of the blossom, its inner depths filled with a cloudy murk and the suspended shape of three intertwined chains. The entire piece is smooth, save for small barbs formed into letters around the edge.
There appears to be something written on it.

In the Common language, it reads:
He Who Sorrows The World

Loresong

The fel talisman seems to respond to the magic of XXX's song.
XXX's expression is dreamy, his eyes cast in a far off direction, and you hear him sigh.

XXX recites:

"Your eyes blink open."

XXX recites:

"You are walking next to a youthful elf. Her bloodjewel-red hair flows behind her as she quickly navigates through city streets. All around you, classic elven architecture is visible, the stamp of a city that is aesthetically both cultured and civilized. Turning your head back to your present path, you panic slightly as you realize that the girl is no longer in sight."

XXX recites:

"You scan the streets, and there, way ahead, you see that she is stepping out of a market booth. She smiles lightly as she pushes her purchase into a small knapsack, then lifts it over her shoulder with carefree motion. With a girlish wave toward some individual still inside the shop, she turns the corner."

XXX recites:

"You sprint to catch up with her, but as you round the corner, she is nowhere in sight. You sigh."

XXX recites:

"Behind you, you hear two stately elves gossiping with one another. "That one, she thinks she is so high and mighty, wandering around and asking questions all the time. Who does she think she is?" "Just a curious girl." "More than that, I think. Curiosity is what gets your fingers cut off and your hair shorn. Mark my words, that one will turn up as a sour grape soon enough." The voices of the elves fade away as you see yourself drifting, unconsciously, down the street."

The fel talisman seems to respond to the magic of XXX's song.
XXX suddenly stumbles backwards and falls.

XXX recites:

"You find yourself walking once again next to the red-headed elf. As you take note of her wear, you realize that you are seeing her on the same day, a short time later. The two of you walk along a wide road, through fields and past farmhouses. She takes no notice of you, but you see that she is clearly comfortable with where she is."

XXX recites:

"Suddenly, she stops and turns. As you turn with her, you see a spacious spread of gardens in the middle of the acres of farmland. Overlooking the verdant growth is a large, ivory-hued manor. You look back toward the girl, and you notice that she is staring at the estate with intense scrutiny, a hint of dangerous mischief, and unbridled youthful curiosity. She is soon striding toward the grounds at a rapid pace."

XXX recites:

"You bite your lip, unsure of whether or not to follow, but ultimately decide to go after the elf."

XXX recites:

"As you run to catch up to her, you soon find yourself in the midst of the estate's gardens. The young girl is picking through the flowers, gathering a few in her knapsack. She utters an unexpected cry of surprise, and you see that she has cut her hand on one of the thorns of a rose. She reaches back for the rose, snapping it off with a quick motion, and remarks with a laugh, "Pierce me, if you will!""

XXX recites:

"As you make your way further into the garden with her, you come across a pure white arch. Without any hesitation, the elf passes under it. You, however, find yourself blocked and unable to move forward despite your most valiant attempts. As you peer into the space, you see the girl wash her blood-laden hand in a small bowl. You are vaguely aware of some unseen force going to work, and though you can't quite put your finger on why, your thoughts are confirmed when the elf vanishes before your very eyes. As you turn your gaze upward, you see the statue of a youth housed within the arch, and you suddenly find yourself backing away, simultaneously stumbling and falling."

The fel talisman seems to respond to the magic of XXX's song.
XXX's expression takes on one of concern, though it is soon replaced by surprised horror.

"You find yourself standing next to the pointy-eared elf. She is in the middle of a long hallway, her eyes affixed to a series of portraits lining the walls. Each portrait depicts elves going through trials -- trials of pain. An expression of pure fascination has fastened itself to the girl's face."

XXX recites:

"When she seems completely satisfied that she has not missed a single detail, she turns to head further down the hall. Her footfalls are soundless on the velvet rug. The way ahead seems to be made up of darkness, and to either side, the pure ivory walls sometimes lead to other areas, though the girl simply continues forward."

XXX recites:

"She stops once more in the middle of the hallway, here examining the walls. Candles cast shadows that pass over the elven girl as she stands still, and it is as if they are sliding over and under her skin, coloring not only her visage, but her persona as well. She steps back suddenly, and, once again, a trickle of blood runs down her hand. As you yourself look more closely at the walls, you see that pale thorns are imbedded in them."

XXX recites:

"You turn to comfort the girl, but instead of seeking help, she has instead pushed her hand up against the wall. She presses upward, and the thorns visibly sink in. Mixed in with the pain that rips across the girl's face is a small hint of pleasure. Her eyes roll back as she presses her palm further up, causing the thorny, pointed tips to pierce even deeper into her fair skin."

XXX recites:

"She whispers, "Just like the girl in that portrait...""

XXX recites:

"She pulls her hand away suddenly, as if waking from a trance, and an expression of confusion fills her features. She looks down at her hand, then up at the wall, and then she flees down the hallway, back toward home."

XXX recites:

"Rivulets of red run down the walls, though they leave no permanent stain."

The fel talisman seems to respond to the magic of XXX's song.
XXX appears to be straining to listen to something, and suddenly, the sound of quiet weeping passes through your consciousness for a brief second.

XXX recites:

"As you gain your bearings, you are walking toward the hidden temple with the young girl. It is obviously some weeks later. The girl wears a small bandage on her hand. As she nears the garden shrine, you again find yourself blocked from entering. You are able to, however, hear some of what she says..."

XXX recites:

""... I never knew such a place... hidden from our very eyes ... city members would ... certainly torch ... hurts ever so much... and yet I find my way... I cannot help myself...""

XXX recites:

"Quiet weeping commences, though it is soon replaced by silence."

The fel talisman seems to respond to the magic of XXX's song.
XXX raises his hands up as if to stop someone.

XXX recites:

"You stand near a firepit, where a rack holding a series of identical bars, some white-hot, resides. You turn to see the young elf bending over the rack, eyeing its contents. She grips one of the faintly glowing bars, and you note that only a strip of leather prevents her from burning her hands. She lifts it slightly, then seems to reconsider as she drops the bar."

XXX recites:

"Instead, she pulls her blouse up over her head, and there, on her back, are several visible burn scars, mostly healed, though some are still ragged at the edges. She drops it to the floor and reaches confidently for the same bar. Bending her arm over her head, she pushes the blunt tip of the bar, still glowing faintly with heat, to her back. A low moan, obviously a clenched scream, emits from her. Her flesh fairly sizzles, both in sound and stench. She continues to hold the bar to her back, and her moan grows louder, until finally unable to clench her teeth any longer, she shouts, nearly screams, not with pain, but instead with ecstatic joy."

XXX recites:

"The edge of her skin seems to start blackening before she finally moves the bar away from her back and replaces it on the rack. She turns slightly, her back still to you, and you see sweat running trickling down her forehead, running straight into her fiery gold eyes."

XXX's eyelids flutter open and closed in rapid motion.

XXX recites:

"You are awake but unable to open your eyes. You are pushed forward through, you think, time itself..."

XXX recites:

"Below you, the young girl sits alone in the woods, fiddling with a set of manacles. As she slips them off of her hands, pin-pricks of red sprout up from the fair skin of her wrists. She examines her wrists, almost as if measuring how deep the pricks are. For a moment -- and only a brief moment -- she appears as she did upon your first meeting with her -- young, innocent, and completely vulnerable. She then cradles the manacles against her heart."

XXX recites:

"A fog obscures your vision momentarily, then..."

XXX recites:

"The young elf is in a pristinely clean room. The curtains have been pulled closed, though shafts of sunlight still shutter through the open spaces. In front of a dressing table, the elven girl is pulling her hair back from the temples and up into some stylized arrangement. As she looks into the mirror, she seems to take notice that a particularly deep cut is quite noticeable. Without thinking twice, she reaches down into the bottom drawer and withdraws a black pouch. She removes a small potion from the pouch and daubs a bit of liquid over her cut. Within minutes, the cut has nearly disappeared, leaving only a tiny scar, frighteningly similar to a birthmark, upon her skin. She nods, as if satisfied, and notes to herself, "Can't have THEM finding out.""

XXX recites:

"You are whipped backward, and then you see directly in front of you..."

XXX recites:

"Crude-looking racks take up most of the space of the circular chamber. The young girl lays, completely bare, against one of the racks, and though she is unable to fasten the manacles around her wrists, she is still quite prone to the spikes that protrude from where she lays. Small streams of dark red dribble down the device, forming a dark pool below the rack. As she stands, the profusion of scars covering her back, chest, and portions of her limbs is suddenly visible."

XXX reaches up at something in the air, but his fingers don't come into visible contact with anything, and his features take on an expression of complete hopelessness.

XXX recites:

"You are lifted you up and carried through a dizzying set of scenes, all portraying just how often the girl now visits the temple, how much she does to hide what she is doing, and the morbid pleasure, even triumph, she derives from her secret... and from the pain it brings her. As the wild pace through time slows almost to a halt, you see the elf balancing on her toes while examining one of several long, curved hooks on black ropes that dangle from the ceiling. She places one foot against the wall to boost herself up for a better look and pulls herself up along one of the ropes. One of her hands slips, and in the sudden drop, her foot also slides down and she is unable to keep herself upright. As she falls, her knapsack catches on one of the hooks and a piercing scream rips through the air."

XXX recites:

"Though you did not at first notice it when she fell, the hook that she dangles from first sliced through the side of her arm and then caught on a section of her skin, lightly jabbing into her back, just below where the knapsack is firmly stuck."

XXX recites:

"She hangs from the hook, completely suspended in air, a thick trickle of blood dripping down her side."

XXX recites:

"As she twists to try and release a catch that holds the hook in place on the rope, the hook digs into her back, and she cries out with pain. She quickly stops, waits a moment, takes a deep breath, and then attempts it again. You see her jaw working to remain shut as she strains to reach the catch, but the tears begin to brim at the corners of her gold eyes, and she is unable to keep the cry from gushing out once again. She falls back to her hanging position, her arms slack."

XXX recites:

"You attempt to reach the clasp for her, but you find that your hands pass right through the rope, and you feel, suddenly, utterly helpless."

The fel talisman seems to respond to the magic of XXX's song.
XXX pales visibly.

XXX recites:

"Through a smoky haze, you see the young girl. She is still hanging from the hook, though it is obvious that at least a day has passed. What color touched her fair skin has drained away into a pasty white, and while there is evidence that the blood on her back and arm have started to clot at one point or another, it is also obvious that she has not given up her attempts to free herself, evidenced by the still-fresh liquid crimson that rings her skin."

XXX recites:

"She utters a low moan of pain as she attempts to twist around again, though her motion is feeble."

As XXX sings to his talisman, whispered words, both violent and tender, pass through your mind.

XXX recites:

"Rushing around you is a swirl of energy, and then, there she is, again, still lingering on in the air, several days later. Crusted blood now stains the elf's arm and back, and dark red colors the floor below her. She is as white as a ghost, though her skin has taken on a glossy luster of sorts, and her eyes are bloodshot, mirroring her cracked and bleeding lips. Her red hair hangs down like a curtain of wet blood."

XXX recites:

"She turns slightly, her half-hearted attempt to release herself now simply a means to stay awake and alive, so she accepts the pain rather than fights it. Still, she cannot reach the clasp. As she turns again, the rose petals below stir quietly. The elf seems surprised and confused by the new movement."

XXX recites:

"You briefly consider that it was your arrival that caused the slight disturbance, but you soon dismiss that notion."

XXX recites:

"After a moment, you hear her whispering, the words both violent and tender, and though you cannot understand any of what issues forth from her lips, you know, beyond a doubt, that she is swearing her devotion to He who is the Sorrow of the World."

XXX recites:

"As she finishes her recitation, she suddenly seems revived. She twists around but makes no attempt to free herself. Instead, she closes her eyes and smiles -- her expression full of feeling, her lips cracking further -- obviously relishing the pain as the hook digs deep into her back. Without warning, the hook's catch releases on its own, and the elf drops to the floor in a heap."

XXX watches an invisible scene unfold in front of him, and somehow, it seems as if he has reached a resolution of some sort.

XXX recites:

"Soft waves of crimson fog roil around you, clearing away to reveal the girl. Some time has passed. She looks different somehow. At first, you think that it may be the tattoo, a diadem of coiled black barbs, that flows over her forehead. Her bloodjewel-hued hair also seems to have taken on a more vivid brilliance. With further thought, however, you realize that it is her as a whole: She carries a cool confidence with her, and though under its heavy cloak hides a thin veneer of shame and lost innocence, she has, truly, grown into herself."

XXX recites:

"She walks through the halls of a temple, shrouded in shadows and darkness and candlelight. Several figures join her -- shadows or real, it is difficult for you to ascertain as you feel yourself being pulled away from the scene -- but it seems that although she often stands alone in the world, she is certainly not alone in her faith."

Return to the top of this page.

Scripts

WEAR

1st-Person: As you slide the fel talisman over your head, it begins to pulses lightly with a glowing, dark light. Suddenly icy to the touch, the talisman comes to rest against your skin, and a wave of numbing cold flows through you.

3rd-Person: As XXX slides an orb-inset fel talisman over her head, it begins to pulse slightly with a glowing, dark light, and a brief wave of cold flows through the area.

REMOVE

1st-Person: Pulling the cord over your head and lifting the fel talisman away from your skin, the talisman's cool quite suddenly dissipates and its glowing, dark light winks out.

3rd- Person: The glowing, dark light imbued in XXX's talisman quickly winks out as she pulls its cord over her head.

GAZE

1st-Person: Tilting your fel talisman up slightly, you look deeply into its orb, as if you might somehow be able to see beyond the glowing, dark light that emanates from it. As you continue gazing, the image of He who is the Sorrow of the World, his delicate skin marred by scars, his eyes full of both charm and sorrow stares up through the orb at you. The image lingers momentarily, and then flows across the orb and fades out of sight.

You blink your eyes, clearing the vision away.

3rd-Person: Tilting her fel talisman up slightly, XXX gazes intently at it, her eyes clearly focused on the orb.

TURN

1st-Person: You rotate your fel talisman, and a wave of icy cold moves through your blood stream, the air around you seemingly devoid of life in the halo of darkness that momentarily engulfs you. For a moment's time, you feel as though you are entangled in the grip of Lornon. Then as quickly as it began, it swiftly ends.

3rd-Person: XXX rotates her fel talisman, turning it easily. Quite suddenly, the air is riddled with a chill, and XXX seems to nearly glow with an inner dark light, which fades as soon as she releases her talisman.

PULL

1st-Person: You tug at your fel talisman, reverently running your fingers along its edges. As you do so, you chant a short recitation of praise to Mularos. The orb on your talisman pulses with white, as if in answerto your words.

3rd-Person: XXX tugs at her fel talisman, reverently running her fingers along its edges. You hear her chant softly, her exact words difficult to make out, though you clearly hear the name "Mularos" murmured with veneration. The orb on XXX's talisman softly pulses with white.

RAISE

1st-Person: Throwing your head back slightly, you raise your arms to the sky in prayer, your lips silently moving in recitation. Soft weeping resounds through your mind, your fel talisman darkening until the sound fades away.

3rd-Person: Throwing her head back slightly, XXX raises her arms to the sky in prayer, her lips silently moving in recitation, and her fel talisman briefly darkens.

RUB

1st-Person: Brushing your fingertips over your fel talisman, a striking image pervades the orb's surface:

You look down from far above on a verdant land splashed over with warmth and green, filled with life and color. A handful of men and women stride into view, trampling across the land,with little regard for where they step. In their wake, plants dry up, lakes fill with blood, and mountains crumble under earthquakes. The sky itself fills with gas and dark mist, and the land literally withers and dies under their feet. All at once, as the last spark of life fades away, the men and women turn their faces upwards towards you, and you see that they are the human manifestations of the Lornon Arkati.

The image fades away, your fel talisman merely lit with a glowing, dark light.

3rd-Person: Brushing her fingertips over her fel talisman, which flashes with sudden color and movement, XXX appears lost in thought.

Return to the top of this page.