An orb-inset fel talisman (Platinum 2006)

The orb-inset fel talisman was an auction item at Ebon Gate 2006's auction.

Loresong

Blinding pain sears across your senses, and you cry out with the sheer physical torture that rends and rips through every fiber of your being. You feel yourself molded into shape, called into existence, by some external force.

Hot heat is replaced by freezing, chilling cold, shortly thereafter receding into a complete absence of physical feeling. Your vision is all that you are now.

All of a sudden, the vivid green of a forest is all around, creating a natural cathedral. You are held in the hands of a young elf, her fingers gripping you tightly, her face somber and serious, her entire being giving off an aura of complete and utter devotion to some unknown cause or purpose.

She kneels over a rough stone altar, the view of the forest above you shifting slightly, the sunlight breaking through in shafts of glowing brilliance.

Time slowly passes. Day fades to night, night fades to day. Still, the elf kneels there, reverent and as still as a statue. She does not rise for food, drink, or shelter. Snow soon falls, and then the seasons speed by. Yet, still, she kneels, her expression ever the same. You watch her age. Time soon becomes meaningless, a blur as the seasons and years meld into one another.

Finally, at long last, the elf moves: her clasp around you loosens as her now ancient body droops forward, her aged eyes slowly closing as the light fades from them--but not before she gives a sigh filled with awe, enlightenment, fulfillment. And as that breath leaves her body, an ethereal light surrounds you, blinding you out of the vision, where, in reality, only a moment has passed.

Darkness to one side, blinding light to another--you feel time slowly speed up, moving more and more rapidly, until it nearly swirls around you in a fervor. You sense a blur of hands--gripping, prodding, rubbing, flicking, tugging--passing you between them in a frenzy, from one hand to another until, at last... time... slows.

You rest against the chest of a pale elven child, her eyes closed, her white-swathed body still. She is laid out across a platform, over which leans a man dressed in simple white robes. He murmurs prayers under his breath, though the words, "Take her, grace her," are uttered more loudly and repeatedly than any others.

As he steps away, smoke rises, and before too long, sparks fly up into the air. Chanting, quiet at first, and then louder, resounds: "Take her, grace her!" Flames leap high now, their heat causing the wood to crackle, the roar of the fire almost deafening.

And suddenly--silence.

The fire continues to blaze around you, but all sound--the crackling, the roaring, the chanting--ceases. At that moment, while the child's figure glows with the heat around her, her body does not melt, does not burn. Beating wings sound. The child's face lights, almost smiles, and then all at once, the crackling, the roar, the chanting – it all returns.

The hand turns you over, and suddenly you can see clearly. Directly in front of you is an elven figure, his smooth face shaped into fine angles.

As he turns, violet eyes reflect your surroundings. Below, the ocean crashes into the craggy cliff side; beyond, it stretches out in a brilliant blanket of blue-green, marred by a mass of ships. Smoke roils up out of many of the ships, blasts and bursts moving across the horizon in slowed motion. All around you, in fact, shouts of terror and cries of haunting misery rip through the air.

As the elf gripping you jerkily falls to his knees, he prays fervently, whispering, "Gosaena, grant me that purest of gifts. I have long been devoted, true in my faith." He then keels over, falling, seemingly unbidden, toward the sea below. As you tumble through the air with him, you are privy to the sight of the gaping hole in his chest, the wound riddled with blood and damage beyond repair.

Saltwater swallows you up. The elf's hand is locked around you in a death grip, and his eyes are open, expressing a desperate kind of hope, his lips moving silently, relentlessly, as he is pulled down into the ocean's depths.

As you settle atop the shallow ocean floor, the water around you flows with pink, and then a dark bloody red, painting the watery grave with vibrant color. A vacant expression, hope dead, fills your bearer's eyes. After what seems like an eternity, the water dissolves back into the dark blue of the deep ocean.

Time speeds by until all you see is a blur, and you blink the vision away.

The vision comes quickly this time, the blur of hands that pass you flashing by like a storm. One hand, however, dark in color, aggressively pulls you away, out of reach from the others. It shakes you violently, cursing aloud in guttural tones.

He claws his way to the surface, digging his fingers up through the mud, as you both emerge into the moonlight. He takes you in his hands, turns you over, examines you.

"She. Knows. Nothing. She knows nothing at all." He spits at you, covers your surface in his thick saliva. "Lies. All. Lies. Her promises are all lies."

His eyes are lit with pure hatred and fury.

With a scream of anger, he suddenly attempts to rip and rend you apart. He throws you. He burns you. He stabs at you. He dashes you against rocks, drops you from great heights, hammers at you with a chisel, an axe, a pick. Magic blasts your way. Ice surrounds you and cracks. Anything, it would seem, to destroy you. Yet, you feel, as always, no physical pain. His actions are to no avail. You wait.

Until finally, he buries you.

Blackness is all around. The dirt closes over you, the sky winks away. You see... nothing.

Time passes. How much, it is unclear. The beat of wings sounds.

A hand, unforeseen, suddenly closes over you, and you visibly jump as you are pulled out of the vision.

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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 "Gosaena" 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.

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