Gem-clasped thorn patterned satchel: Difference between revisions
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{{H4HItem |
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Prize item for [[Hunt for History]]. |
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<b><I>This item has no [[show]].</i></b> |
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As you begin singing, the song mimics the melodies of ocean waves, and then a vision unfolds before you. Curling over and over, crystal blue waves roll over a shell-strewn beach. A group of young women walk along the beach in the company of an elder woman, dressed in white robes, who stops and picks up a shell. The song continues, and the focus of the scene shifts to the shell. Inside the lip of the shell rests a tear-shaped sapphire. |
As you begin singing, the song mimics the melodies of ocean waves, and then a vision unfolds before you. Curling over and over, crystal blue waves roll over a shell-strewn beach. A group of young women walk along the beach in the company of an elder woman, dressed in white robes, who stops and picks up a shell. The song continues, and the focus of the scene shifts to the shell. Inside the lip of the shell rests a tear-shaped sapphire. |
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== External Links == |
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==Reference== |
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http://members.aol.com/gs3augie/satchel.html |
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[[Category: Hunt for History]] |
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Revision as of 18:58, 11 June 2006
This item was a prize from the Hunt for History.
Item
a gem-clasped thorn patterned satchel
Show
This item has no show description.
Details
No other details are known.
Loresong
This item has no loresong.
Loresong
As you begin singing, the song mimics the melodies of ocean waves, and then a vision unfolds before you. Curling over and over, crystal blue waves roll over a shell-strewn beach. A group of young women walk along the beach in the company of an elder woman, dressed in white robes, who stops and picks up a shell. The song continues, and the focus of the scene shifts to the shell. Inside the lip of the shell rests a tear-shaped sapphire.
Bits of clear yellow sunlight streak through grey-bottomed clouds onto a barren mountain covered in rocky soil and jagged fissures. Your mind speeds into one of the crevices as your song suddenly takes on a fevered pitch. Huddled close to the floor of the fissure is a figure of a woman striking two stones, causing a spark to leap into a pile of twigs and leaves. Suddenly the fissure is aglow from the reflection of the flame in the golden topaz crystals lining the cave as your song slows
Crisp and cool, the tempo of your song now reflects the vision moving before you. From behind a frosted glass-paned door, a robed woman glances out into the snowy vista. Bobbing on one foot on the stem of a now bare rose bush, a plump red bird falls in a spiral into the snow below
Rushing from inside, without a cloak or boots, the woman takes the bird to her chest and warms him. Just as the bird warms, the object he was clenching in his foot drops into the hand of the gentle woman. The woman repeatedly turns a deep red ruby, as red as the last rose of summer and the feathers of the creature that bore it, in her hand while your song slowly fades from your mind.