Caligos island history loresongs.



  • As your song touches upon the trident, your vision clouds and the bright blue of the sky at sea spreads before you. Dozens of families stand clustered in small groups upon the deck of a ship, and beyond them in the open sea are two similar vessels. Their voices are muted as they speak in quiet tones of mingled excitement and trepidation.

    “Jorgethin is right,” you hear a man say, echoes of agreement rising around him. "The politics are too much. It is time we make our own way."
    Slowly, the vision fades.

    Tenebrous and ethereal, the lore of the trident unfolds before you. Night has fallen upon the ship, and slumber touches upon the elven souls that ride at sea. Lanterns illuminate the faces of those that stand at watch, concern etched in their countenances.

    “We need to find land soon,” a whispered voice says.

    “We are trying,” counters another with resignation.

    “If only this blasted mist would let us see land,” says the first.

    Slowly, an indigo light obscures your vision.

    Skeins of indigo and silver mist trickle across your vision as your voice reaches out towards the trident in song. Wane and sickly, the families lie in weary clusters of exhaustion and concern. Small ones rest in the laps of their elders, their faces sallow and their stomachs distended. Whispers rise amid them, curses to Charl and Niima for abandoning those that have been faithful. As the curses and denouncements take root, the mist eases and a cry from above heralds, “Land ho!” Slowly, the vision fades.

    As your querying song touches upon the trident, your vision is filled with the sight of dozens of elven families carrying all that they possess upon a black sand beach and away from three vessels. Indigo and silver mist follows them, the ethereal element touching each and every person in turn. As the last crate is pulled from the vessel, and the last elven foot touches the island’s sandy shore, a wave swathed in shadows crashes into the ships and scatters their timbers upon the shores. The vision slips away…

    As you sing to the trident, your vision is filled with dozens of faces as they turn towards the shoreline, debris littering its dark sands. Indigo eels with silver eyes swim at the water’s edges, collecting and pushing the broken bits of wood towards the shore, and as they do, a voice fills your ears.

    “My children,” it says. “Come to me. I am your Salvation and will save you from the Curse of Charl, the Lies of Niima. Lay aside your weapons and know peace on Caligos.”

    The vision slips away…

    Actions on the trident.

    gaze tri
    You gaze at the blade of your vaalorn trident, your mind wandering as you contemplate the battles that lie ahead of you. Slowly, the image of a small island enshrouded in mist appears within the vaalorn, and you hear a faint calling.

    “Lay aside your weapons, and know peace on Caligos Isle.”

    Blinking, you pull your gaze away.

    rub tri
    Your eyes slip closed as you rub your thumb across the haft of your trident. Faintly, as if coming to you on a distant wind, you hear a cajoling voice promise peace and salvation. “On Caligos Isle,” it says to you, and you briefly feel weary of battle.

    tilt tri
    You tilt your vaalorn trident in and out of the ambient light, causing silver and indigo mist to trail through the air.

    wave tri
    You slice your vaalorn trident through the air, the sound of crashing waves following in the wake of its whistle.


  • TownCrier

    Very cool! What are the stats on the trident?


  • TownCrier

    Let me share the loresongs from the things around the Isle, too.

    ADMIN: Could someone please rename this topic to be more generic about Caligos Island so these other Loresongs will make sense, too, please?

    Everyone, please add what you find!

    (next messages…)


  • TownCrier

    Ebon Gate 5117 in GemStoneIV
    Caligos Island
    Discovery: The Lintel’s Song (above the Pawnshop’s Exterior Door)

    look lint
    Scrubbed clean of oceanic debris, the lintel is darkened on the edges and displays multiple waterlines. Sea salt encrusts the edges despite the thick scours of brush marks upon the stone facing. Freshly carved words stand out upon the lintel.

    There appears to be something written on it.

    read lint
    In the Common language, it reads:
    Pawnshop

    sense
    You sense the threads of history resonating within a warped alder lintel.

    As you sing to a warped alder lintel, your vision begins to shift and swirl until it resolves into a vibrant green forest. The sound of crashing comes from somewhere far off, and you watch as brush all around you shakes and quivers. A pair of figures plunge through the foliage and stand over a fallen alder tree, its trunk easily three men around in girth. One of them points, a look of pride stretched across his features, and says something to the other. You try to make out the words, but the vision fades away.

    The harsh sound of sawing fills your ears as you sing to a warped alder lintel, and slowly, your vision dissolves into a workroom where the large alder tree is being stripped of its bark. Time seems to move rapidly through the area as figures shift in and out of the scene, all the while, the alder trunk is being reshaped and changed by elven hands until it finally forms a smooth keel. Ribs are attached to it, planks and iron, too. As your vision fades, you see a fully formed caravel sitting in the workspace.

    Your tune of inquiry triggers a response in a warped alder lintel causing rain to slant across your vision. Dozens of elves lay upon the deck of a caravel, their bodies withered and their children’s stomachs distended with hunger. They cry out for salvation and as they do, an indigo and silver mist guides them to a small island. As they clamor over the sides of the vessel into the spongy soft sands, a wave smashes mercilessly into the vessel causing it to shatter upon the beach. The vision fades away.

    Your song of inquiry touches upon a warped alder lintel, and the sound of the ocean lapping at a shore comes to your ears. Slowly, the image of a beach appears before you, and you see scattered timber rocking back and forth in the waves. A young elf runs up to a large piece that looks to be an alder keel, and yells over his shoulder to an elven man. You recognize this man from your previous visions, though he is older now. Grinning, he calls others to help him move the keel. Slowly, the image fades.

    Time slips across your vision as a warped alder lintel shares its final tale with you. You see a keel lifted from a beach, carried to a building carved of stone, and fitted as a lintel. It sits there through a season, maybe two, and you watch the passage of time in wonder. Something disrupts its tranquility, and it is dislodged from its resting place only to be plunged into the ocean. Ages pass as it begins to rot, becoming a home to barnacles, until the lintel rises to the surface once more.


  • TownCrier

    Ebon Gate 5117 in GemStoneIV
    Caligos Island
    Discovery: The Ancient Oak’s Song, near the bank

    sense
    You sense the threads of history resonating within an ancient leafless oak.

    Your vision fills with stratus clouds as they swirl past you, the wisps thinning, and you wake from a deep slumber. You feel the comfort of your skin, your true real home, around you and, just as you decide to return to slumber, you feel a sickening coldness lance into you. The sense of falling overtakes you, and you hear the cry of a bird somewhere above you. That must be how you ended up in the sky, some avian adventure, but it is short lived and your vision abruptly returns to normal.

    You sing to an ancient leafless oak and you are filled with the strangest sensations. The sun above is warm, the land damp, and rich with minerals from nearby volcanic flows. Wind sends you tumbling helplessly across the land and you slip into a crack, but you decide that it is time to wake from your slumber and shed your skin. Stretching your fingers into the deep, dark ground, you seek out nutrients, and then you begin to grow. Slowly, your vision unfurls to reveal an island wreathed in mist, but then it fades away.

    Indigo and silver mist trickle across your vision, and from somewhere far off you hear children playing. It seems to have been years since you landed upon this island and you have watched it change from volcanic rock and debris, to a landscape filled with homes and families. The mists no longer bother you, your leaves reflect their color, and you are at peace here. Thunder and the sound of rising waves suddenly blot out the sun, and as your vision fades, the laughter of children turns to cries of fear.

    Coldness greets you, and your vision is filled with a murky darkness that seems to be your new norm. Hints of sunlight play through the water, but they are far from you, and you feel yourself slowly starving. You miss the laughter of the children as they played around you, dancing in your leaves as they fell, and still mourn at the memory of their strangled, gurgling deaths. Kelp is your friend now, but it does not frolic so much as strangle and choke. Slowly, your vision fades away.

    Plunging in and out of darkness, you feel the world around you transform and water begins to sluff off of you in torrents. The air feels different, colder than you remembered, and your trunk feels strangled by the kelp that has come to the surface with you. Fish riddle the ground, their gills flaring as they struggle to breathe and their bodies twisting in odd arcs as they gasp out their last. Your return to the land and sky seems ill fated, but at least the sun is here, and it warms your fading vision.


  • TownCrier

    Ebon Gate 5117 in GemStoneIV
    Caligos Isle
    Discovery: The story of the half-desiccated carcass in the Walrus and The Carpenter Shop

    sense
    You sense the threads of history resonating within a half-desiccated carcass.

    Silver light floods your vision as the querying notes of your song touch upon the carcass, and all around you the world transforms to an aquatic scene of the ocean floor. You find yourself swimming through the cool waters, sunlight falling in long lines through the gently rollicking waters above, and you are filled with a deep joy to be in your home. Schools of fish dart past, and you pursue them with abandon. Slowly, your vision returns to normal.

    Your vision swims with azure and silver light, and ribbons of glistening water pass you at high speeds. A large presence at your side, a pack mate or perhaps your mother, nudges you away from a darkness near the bottom of the sea and you push yourself to the surface. Blessed, clean air filters through the blow hole in your head, your lungs flooding with the great breath you’ve inhaled. Around you, others break the surface, too, and you revel in the presence of your pack. Slowly, the vision fades.

    Darkness descends upon your vision as you sing to the carcass, the world around you fading. You begin to investigate a sparkling light and, feeling suddenly alone, glance about with worry for your pack mates. A pair of eels swims to your side, and whispers to you that there is nothing to fear. They speak to you of salvation, of promise, and of becoming more. Comforted by their words, you drift deeper into the shadows, and a darker presence looms over you. Your vision darkens as you begin to suffocate.

    Indigo mist and darkness trickles across your vision, their presence unwelcoming and unkind. Though you know that long ago your body died, you feel connected to the rough ground that your body is bound to. Seaweed has begun to grow through your lifeless body, barnacles begin to use you as dinner, and the eels have returned. They dance around you, taunting and unkind. You feel the dark presence, and it offers you a promise of the sun, but only if you submit. Your vision returns to normal.

    Water slips across your vision, the darkness slowly lightening and the sun returning it. You feel as if you have lifted, somehow, from your water grave, and yet, still seem to be deeply imbedded upon the sea floor. The water flows away, and the warm sun bakes your desiccated body. You are his now, on his island, used for his design. One day you will find salvation, but trapped in your body, you do not feel that it will be today. Slowly, with much effort, you pull your vision back to the natural world.


  • Independent Crafters

    huh. I have “a vaalorn broadsword dangling blue-corded tassels” that has the exact same loresong as the trident. It also has special information in the Analyze, which may shed some light on who the elves are in the loresong:

    You analyze your vaalorn broadsword and sense that the creator has provided the following information:

    This is an Ashrim vaalorn broadsword, and it has a loresong with some history of Caligos Isle attached to it. You may alter this weapon freely, but please keep in mind that it should remain elven in nature.




  • Order of the Shadow

    You accept Warclaidh’s offer and are now holding an oiled aquamarine case.
    Note: Inside the case was a master-quality instrument, “a silver-inlaid bowlback mandolin,” with +3 ML:Manipulation Ranks, +3 Mental Mana Control Ranks, and +3 Harness Power Ranks

    Verse One:
    Joining the threads of your song, the case yields to your song of inquiry and shares its song. Swirling grey mistsslip across your vision, and you find yourself sitting upon a deck that is wrapped in a miasma of fog and soaking rains. You hug the case to your chest with one hand, while the other brushes damp tresses from your brow, and you feel a frown tug at the corners of your lip. A woman comes into your view.

    “You’ll need to put her up, minstrel,” she says, a tinge of regret in her voice. “We’ll need even the soft hands if we are to come out of this.”

    As she moves away, your vision begins to return to normal.

    Verse Two:
    As your song touches upon the case, you immediately feel it being changed from one of inquiry into the rhythmic drone of a working song.

     "The mist is rising, and the tides be low,
      Heave away, Sally, heave her just so.
      They be waiting so patient on the Captain's behalf,
      Heave away, Sally, heave off ye gaff."
    

    The song continues on, but a familiar voice at your ear says, “That a boy, I’ll make a sailor of you yet.”

    Slowly, the rhythm of the song fades around you.

    Verse Three:
    Moonlight slants across your vision as you gaze at the case, and momentarily blinds you. When your vision clears you find yourself on the familiar deck of a ship that is gently gliding through the waves. The bright silver of a full moon is reflected on the water, and the soft glow of lanterns strung across the deck gives the vessel an almost ethereal cast. Moving towards you is the female sailor from previous visions, and her lips are quirked in a half grin as she watches you stifle a yawn.

    “Don’t worry,” she says in a teasing voice. “You’ll get to sleep in on the morn, but first you must survive the night shift.”

    Laughing, she dances away from you, and the moonlight reflects in a dazzling array off her silver-blonde hair and briefly blinds you once more.Naamit’s eyes sparkle with silver light as she sings to the case.

    Verse Four:
    As your song touches upon the case, you hear the soft laughter of a familiar voice at your ear. Her words are difficult to understand, but their meaning is clear in the teasing tone of her voice. You find yourself replying, your laughter falling from your lips in a rich tenor. Slowly, the sound recedes, but not before you hear yourself saying, “I think I love you.”

    Verse Five:
    Your voice touches an oiled aquamarine case, and almost instantly, your tongue dries up in your mouth, and sweat moistens your brow. Your vision blurs and then settles upon the now familiar deck, but this time it is incredibly crowded as if every sailor is present. Faces are drawn and tight as you move through the crowd, and you quickly find your way to the side of the conversant female sailor. She turns to you, her features slack and tears standing out in her eyes.

    “What is it?” you find yourself asking.

    “Our home,” she says to you as she throws her arms around your neck. Continuing into your shoulder, you can hear her say through her sobs, “The House of Faendryl has destroyed our home. We are lost.”

    Your heart clenches in your chest, but you whisper reassuringly to her, “As long as you are with me, you are home.”

    Slowly, the vision fades away.

    Verse Six:
    Your song reaches out to the case, and a sense of deep weariness fills you. Once again, you find yourself upon the decks of a vessel that is heavily obscured by waves of fog and mist. You cradle the case close to your body as a voice above cries out, “Brace for land!” Silver mist falls upon you like a wet, heavy blanket, and you lurch as the sound wood being split asunder fills the air. The woman from before comes running towards you and pulls you to your feet, practically draggin you from the deck of the boat. You hurtle over the rails behind her and plunge into the cold sea. Darkness briefly eclipses your vision.

    Verse Seven:
    You reach out with an inquiring tune to the case, it latches onto you like a drowning man. The song of the case pulls you down until your vision grows dark, and you feel like your lungs might explode from lack of air. Just as sunspots begin to fill your vision, the air rushes back in, and you find yourself crawling across the jagged stones of a desolate beach. Debris litters the ground around you, and you feel a brief return of the panic as you look at the woman you love, who is curled upon her side further up the beach. Struggling for breath, you somehow manage to make your way to her side and gently brush the hair from her face.

    Her breath spills from her lips, and you find yourself humbled by the flood of emotions that pour through you. Lowering your head, you offer a silent prayer of thanks to Niima. The woman rolls over, and cradled to her chest is an oiled aquamarine case.

    Your vision slowly fades.

    Verse Eight:
    Soft is the song that rises to you from the case as you sing your tune of inquiry to it. Gone is the beach, the sea, and the ship. Each is replaced with forests, silvery mists, and the shape of a house made of teak. A railing that looks suspiciously familiar encircles a Widow’s Walk upon the top of the abode, and an anchor occupies a spot near an herb garden at the front. Your gaze traces the lines of what you’ve created, and you hear yourself saying, “He has saved us.”

    Turning, you look to the woman from earlier visions, and she is gazing at you uneasily, her eyes drifting past you to the seas.

    Laying your hand upon her shoulder, you say with sincerity, “I’m so sorry, but the seas are lost to us, now. Charl has turned his eye from us and we must now turn our eyes to Him. He is our salvation.” Slowly, the vision fades.

    Verse Nine:
    As you sing to an oiled aquamarine case, the scent of the ocean rises to reach you, and you hear the light sound of a tenor singing rise to your ears.


    • Note: What’s interesting about the case is that it pegs the Ashrim’s arrival to the island after the Faendryl War, meaning the inhabitants of Caligos Island were survivors of the war. I don’t believe any of the other items definitively pinpointed the inhabitants as survivors, versus say… lost vacationers, or Ashrim defectors from some earlier political schism.

  • Order of the Shadow

    Also, on those weapons - Here is the third-person messaging in case anyone’s interested:

    Naamit sings something discordantly in Guildspeak that you don’t understand.
    The vaalorn falchion seems to respond to the magic of Naamit’s song.
    As Naamit sings to the falchion, you hear her suddenly say, “Jorgethin is right. The politics are too much. It is time we make our own way.”

    Naamit sings something discordantly in Guildspeak that you don’t understand.
    The vaalorn falchion seems to respond to the magic of Naamit’s song.
    Naamit’s song of inquiry touches upon the falchion and as it comes to an end, you hear her whisper, “If only this blasted mist would let us see land.”

    Naamit sings something discordantly in Guildspeak that you don’t understand.
    The vaalorn falchion seems to respond to the magic of Naamit’s song.
    As Naamit sings to the falchion, the sound of curses can be heard, though their source seems to be the subject of the inquiring song.

    Naamit sings something discordantly in Guildspeak that you don’t understand.
    The vaalorn falchion seems to respond to the magic of Naamit’s song.
    Shadows ripple across the falchion as Naamit sings to it.

    Naamit sings something discordantly in Guildspeak that you don’t understand.
    The vaalorn falchion seems to respond to the magic of Naamit’s song.
    Naamit begins to sing to the falchion but slowly stops.

    Naamit sings something discordantly in Guildspeak that you don’t understand.
    The vaalorn falchion seems to respond to the magic of Naamit’s song.
    Naamit begins to sing to the falchion but slowly stops.


  • Independent Crafters

    the loresong on the weapons comes off to me that they are refugees. They left during the war, or immediately before.


  • Order of the Shadow

    Refugee may be a better term for it than survivor. In any event, the loresong on the case indicates they learned of Ta’Ashrim’s falling while still on the boat, which puts their arrival on Caligos Isle in the first century of the modern era (5000 years ago).

    A few asides:

    1. How long they were on the boats remains to be seen, but the weapon loresongs don’t specifically mention mass casualty from famine, new babes born, generations, dwindling numbers, nor eons, so they may have been at sea just a few short months.
    2. I’m curious to find out whether our new friend Ghezresh is actually lurking demon landmine left by some crafty Faendryl. Wouldn’t that be fun?


  • That ancient oak song is freaky and awesome. Something about a tidal wave submerging the island maybe?



  • a silver filigree music stand inset with azure sapphires:

    As your voice resonates through the filigree music stand, you become immediately aware of lingering emotions within the stand. You detect both pain and loss, as well as a feeling of dismayed resignation.

    As your voice touches the stand, your senses are swept with a vision.

    An elderly gnomish man works in a lantern-lit room. His brow is creased with concentration as he fits a screw into place on a gleaming music stand and tightens it with a small screwdriver. The screwdriver slips as he is suddenly distracted by a small yellow puppy pouncing on his foot. As if the first brave puppy’s move were a single, he is suddenly surrounded by puppies, all sniffing, woofing, licking, and panting. His eyes almost vanish in delighted wrinkles as he laughs at his pets.

    Four large dogs sit on the edges of the scene with their tongues lolling out in an amused fashion. Looking up at the largest, the gnome inquires, “Well, Tympani, is it past dinnertime again?” When the wolfhound thumps her tail in agreement, he rises to his feet, smiling all around as he pushes through the fuzzy horde. “Well, then, I’d best feed you, my friends, for there’s nothing I love more than music, but there’s nothing I love more than you.”

    He sets the music stand aside in a forest of similar stands on his way out of the room, and you briefly glimpse the very filigree music stand in your hand among them before the workshop fades away and the vision ends.

    As you sing again to the stand, you are presented with another vision. In contrast to the first vision, this is blurry and vague. From the vibrations, you understand that the filigree music stand was not physically present for these events, but they are part of its history all the same.

    The gnome stands on stage, proud and straight, as a human kneels to hang a glimmering gold medal about his neck. In one hand, he holds a shining oak flute, and the other cradles a ruby and diamond bracelet of obvious value. Joy shines in his eyes, but the audience’s mood is ugly, and the human competitors arrayed to the side glare at him with obvious malice.

    The next moments flicker past like a bat swooping in and out of moonlight. As the gnome travels home, he is interrupted by a group of masked human stepping from a building’s shadows. They smash his flute, steal the bracelet, score the medal’s face into unrecognizability, and leave him face-down in a rubbish heap.

    The vision ends, an aching sorrow surrounding you.

    You sing to the filigree music stand, and you finish your verse. You sense some kind of hesitation, but then the next vision slowly appears. This one is as intense as the last was blurry, and it grips you so powerfully that the sensations and emotions briefly seem like your own.

    Brothers and sisters lie in sleepy piles about the floor. You are happy and sleepy, too, though the big ones are a bit restless. It is late for the man to come home, but why worry? He always comes home.

    Crunch, crunch, the gravel sounds outside. The good man’s feet are little and they don’t make such a big sound. New friends! You wiggle, you bounce, you are excited–

    WHAM! You cower backward. You are afraid! The four big ones are snarling and bristling-- you knock over some music stands as you scramble for cover. Huge men come inside. They are angry. The four big ones are angry! Suddenly one of the four big ones is down, screaming and writhing, and then another one has fallen, howling his pain. There are long shiny things that are terribly bad. Everything smells of anger and fear. A big hand reaches for you, and you can’t escape…

    Pain stops.

    The vision ends, leaving you reeling.

    As you sing to the filigree music stand, it shows you its next vision.

    Battered and bruised, the old gnome hurries through the doorway, but his own pain is forgotten as he sinks to his knees in raw horror. Then he moves from one to another of his pets in a dazed fashion, stroking bloodied fur here, caressing a nose there, crying freely and without shame.

    At last, he goes to a hidden drawer, and he takes out a carved wooden flute that looks almost as old as he is. He begins to play, and the music he produces is truly wonderous. At first, his song aches with sorrow, but then it slowly eases through regret toward a soft, tender melody that expresses his unconditional love. From there, the flute soars upward, dancing playfully through notes, and he almost smiles through his tears as he serenades his dead and remembers the good times.

    One by one, ghostly forms shimmer into view around him. Some small, some large, the ghosts come and sit around him, surrounding him with their love and support, although he cannot see them.

    The vision fades away.

    When you finish singing, you feel pulled backwards, into a state where you continue the prior vision.

    The old man stops playing, but he looks blindly through the spirits of the dogs and puppies, not able to perceive them. One of the big dogs goes and tries to rub up against him, whining softly, but he is unaware of the wolfhound’s presence. The puppies are worried at first, but then grow curious about their new existence, and one of them pounces into the scattered music stands in a botched attempt to jump on another puppy.

    The puppy’s form dissolves into the music stand. When it jumps to its feet, the music stand jumps up as well, startling the poor gnome severely. Then, another puppy tries the same trick, and third, and a fourth, until he is gaping and amazed as the music stands crowd around him and try to cuddle up to him.

    “Can it be?” he asks, in a dazed, wondering tone. “Can it truly be…” Then, he is laughing and patting the music stands and hugging them all, regardless of their metal bodies, as they dance around the room in delight. Only the four grown dogs remain apart, watching in loving pride.

    The vision ends.

    A cold shiver passes unbidden through your body as you enter this vision. The harmonics tell you distinctly that this is not a place within mortal ken.

    Looking much older, now, the gnomish man walks down a path through a snowy wood. The four grown dogs range at his side, each looking as solid and physical as he, and the puppy-possessed music stands bounce along behind.

    They come to a gate in the wood, and a black-robed woman bearing a staff of crystal stands before it. “I greet you, and your… entourage,” she says. “This is your hour and your time.” The gnome bows to her as she opens the gate.

    When he starts to walk through the gate, the four older dogs follow willingly, but the music stands hesitate and fall back, jostling worriedly and turning this way and that. The old man hesitates as well, looking unhappy. “Lady,” he says, “I’ve got a bit of a problem. You see, I love them more than music, and I know that they love me, but I don’t think they’re quite ready to go on through yet, and I know that I am…” Beneath her gaze, he fidgets nervously and falls silent.

    The black-robed woman considers him for a moment and nods. “Other arrangements will be made. Their hour is not locked to this hour.”

    His thanks drifts away into the darkness as he passes through the gate, and the four grown dogs follow behind him, vanishing into the darkness. The music stands mill about uncertainly for a moment, but the woman says to them, “Wait here a moment. One will come for you, and then you will return.” Obediently, they pile to the side of the path and settle down to wait.

    The vision fades away.

    As you sing, the vision is slow to come.

    Many of the music stands that were piled alongside your filigree music stand are no longer present, as if someone or something has whisked them away. In fact, the entire area seems abandoned and lifeless, the wood around you filled with the broken and charred husks of trees, the snow covered in a grey blanket of ash.

    A stooped man in black lopes down the trail, his cloak dangling fox tails. As he comes to a stop in front of the pile of leftover music stands, his face breaks into an alarmingly wide smile. With quick, efficient movements, he stoops to touch each of the music stands, and as his fingers graze over their surfaces, the very life seems to diminish from them.

    Finally, his hand comes to rest on you. His skin is smooth and velvety and warm, his caress gentle and loving. But then the warmth suddenly dissipates into an ice cold chill, and an intense searing pain, as if your senses are being sucked from your person, slices through you. You grow numb, and then dizzy, your awareness growing dim. Without warning, the vision abruptly vanishes.

    You hear the faint strains of music, and then a complete and lonely silence.


  • TownCrier

    The unlocked music stand sings the same story, and they are clearly not related to Caligos Isle. but I thought everyone would enjoy how it ends when it is unlocked, and you are the lucky bardess!


  • TownCrier

    So you sing again after seeing all of that and …

    When you finish this verse, the spirit does not present you with a vision. Instead, you sense that it is considering you carefully. Its reply comes not truly in words, but in emotion: “Do you like me? Can we be friends?” you sense it asking. If the answer is no, you need only to set the golvern music stand aside and sing no more, but if the answer is yes, you need to sing again.

    You sing:
    “Yes new friend, yes, indeed,
    We will be friends, you can help me sing!”

    When you finish singing, the spirit’s giddy joy washes over you in waves. For a moment, you glimpse the outline of a roly-poly puppy wiggling in place of the golvern music stand in your hand, but then all you see is the stand. Still, you sense the connection, and you know that you are now the spirit’s chosen person, to be followed, trusted, and loved.
    Roundtime: 9 sec.

    Daaaannng, this is precious. ALL the heart strings just went TWANG!


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