Salt-encrusted astrolabe

Prize item for Hunt for History.

a salt-encrusted astrolabe

Show:
The astrolabe appears to be in poor condition as though immersed in the sea or lashed by ocean waves for a long period of time. Coarse grains of salt cling to the outside casing, making it nearly impossible to discern the pitted brass beneath. Scraping off a bit of the salt, you can see that the navigational tool was finely crafted and a bit fanciful, with the brass rule shaped to look like a leaping dolphin.

Loresong:
Rough salt crystals dig into your palm as you clench your astrolabe and begin your song. A blond elf, dressed in a vest and trousers cut off at the knee, stands on the deck of a sailing ship. Raising his hands to the sky, he utters a chant and the winds sharply increase, causing the ship to roll and buck among the swelling waves. Though his clothing is ragged, he appears at ease on the ship, his bare feet steady on the wet deck planks. At a muttered command from another sailor, the elf grins and lowers his arms, allowing the sea and the winds to turn calm once more. He turns to face his shipmate, displaying an intricate blue tattoo of a leaping dolphin, which runs from knee to ankle on the back of his left leg. Just as your view of the ship is lost in a haze of sea-spray, you notice the name "Chesylcha" painted on the prow.

As you begin the strains of a new verse, the melody of a sea chanty reaches your ears. The crew of the ship is hard at work, swabbing the decks and scrambling like pointy-eared monkeys in the rigging. The warm sun shines directly overhead. On the deck, the tattooed sailor sits with an elven youth, perhaps the cabin boy, helping him take a reading with a brass astrolabe. As the pair finishes their celestial observation, the sailor loops the cord of the astrolabe around his neck and playfully ruffles the cabin boy's hair before sending him off to other duties.

The tune of the sea chanty lingers in your head as you begin yet another verse. The world around you disappears and darkness meets your eyes. Night has fallen, the weather seems to have taken a turn for the worse and the ship is lashed by the unforgiving sea. On the forward deck, a sailor struggles to raise his arms to the sky. Under the guidance of an older, more experienced sailor, the young one shouts an incantation to the raging winds. As he chants, the bad weather begins to subside and the sailor's actions grow more confident. Other crew members gather to watch the apprentice's magic at work. Suddenly, a blue light glows eerily at the top of the foremast. Distracted by the glow, the young sailor's chanting falters and waves once again pummel the ship. Slapped hard by a wave, the ship lurches and the deck pitches dangerously. With a muffled cry of surprise, the cabin boy is thrown overboard.

Quickly you launch into a new verse, hoping to pick up the tale where you left off. There, amid the white-capped swells, the cabin boy bobs, flailing and gasping for air. Without hesitation, the tattooed sailor dives in after him and helps him stay afloat as the crew throws the boy a line. Cheers sound out as the boy is pulled safely back over the ship's rail when, suddenly, a brilliant flash of lightning rends the air, momentarily blinding them all. Even before their sight returns, a sound fills them all with dread. Above them they hear the thunderous crack of a shattered mast and ropes give way with loud pops. As if in slow-motion, they watch helplessly as a cross-spar crashes down on the head of the still swimming tattooed sailor. His world, as well as yours, grows black as he sinks beneath the waves.

You rush through a final verse, hoping the brave tattooed sailor has somehow been spared. Weather now clear, you are met by the lull of surf crashing against rocks. The nearby beach is deserted, save for the motionless body of the tattooed elf lying sprawled upon the sand. No ships or sails are anywhere in sight and it appears that only the crying gulls overhead will be witness to his tragic fate. A gleam of light catches your eye and you turn your gaze just in time to see the brass astrolabe, its cord snapped, coughed up by a wave and flung into a deep tide pool. There it comes to rest, like its master, never to see the shores of Ta'Ashrim again.

Your song draws to a close as you sense that the story has ended.

Reference

Unofficial documentation located here: http://members.aol.com/gs3augie/astrolabe.html