Hammered Silvery Steel Breastplate in GemStoneIV

Rheader's hammered silvery steel breastplate inlaid with pearl and emerald lilies

Items from Grey Shark Isle at a Dhu Gillywack, 2004-ish?, all had a similar loresong.

The harmonic vibrations that your song evokes in the silvery steel breastplate convey a sense of great age.  At a rough estimate, the breastplate is worth 14 silver, but a collector of antiquities might be willing to offer a significantly greater sum.

As the silvery steel breastplate responds to your song, you sense echoes of ancient enchantment drifting softly through the resonances.  It is difficult to say whether or not the breastplate is innately magical, but, if not, then it has certainly been exposed to a great deal of magical energy over an extended period of time.

The resonances of your music caress the ancient weave of enchantment within the silvery steel breastplate.  You recognize both spiritual and elemental components, twisted together and permanently altered into a new form -- the unmistakable taint of sorcery.

As you sing to the silvery steel breastplate, you evoke the image of a short man with silver-streaked hair.  He holds the silvery steel breastplate in his hands, studying it intently.  As he turns it over, its brilliant gems glitter brightly as they catch the light, and he nods his approval.  He signals to a liveried servant nearby, and the servant quickly comes to take the breastplate away.  The vision drifts away from you as your verse ends.

Another vision comes -- a fleeting image of a ship's aging gangplank.  Muscular human stevedores load the vessel under the wary, watchful eye of a liveried servant.  The image of a silver hunting hound cradled in a white lily has been embroidered on the sleeve of his tunic.  With sharp words, he orders the stevedores to take care with his master's cargo, and, as your senses narrow upon one particular coffer, you sense this silvery steel breastplate lying inside, so many centuries ago.

The vibrations of the silvery steel breastplate craft the image of a vast treasure room in your mind.  This vision is much stronger than the image of the ship had been, for the silvery steel breastplate lay there for a much greater period of time.  Guttering torches shed orange light across shimmering piles of gold and gems, all carefully fenced about by a web of sorceric enchantment.  You sense human figures in the room, but their presences are frail and fleeting -- they come, they gaze, they touch, but they only rarely take anything away.  Only the treasure remains through the years.

The vision draws to an end.


The image of the treasure room coalesces once more in your mind's eye, captured by the vibrations of your song.

The torches gutter and die, and people no longer come, but the treasure endures still.  There are bejeweled dishes, gilded musical instruments, ceremonial pieces of armor and weaponry, exquisite jewels with a sparkling fire sufficient to make gnomes faint, and more beyond that, but it has all left to gather dust in an age when people no longer come to admire it. In the shadowy darkness, the treasure remains, and the web of sorcery remains, for years... decades... centuries.

Your verse winds to an end, and the image fades away.

The harmonics from the silvery steel breastplate draw you back to the treasure room, but something has changed -- the sorceric web has been damaged, and its enchantments wend over the trove in a different fashion.  You sense the uneasy power of the earth, and your music brings you to comprehend that an earthquake that wrought this change, shifting the arcane balance in a small but subtle fashion.

Time passes... you sense the years marching silently past as the vision slips away.

In the last fleeting, faint resonances from the silvery steel breastplate, you see the treasure chamber a fourth time, and you sense presences in the chamber once more.  They have conquered the web of sorcery and come to take the spoils, and dust billows up with every step.  Somewhere in the chamber, there lies a hammered silvery steel breastplate inlaid with pearl and emerald lilies, awaiting the touch of a new owner.  A new owner comes, and you feel the hands touching the breastplate's surface as if that surface were your skin.  A wave of dizziness washes over you as the new person picks up the breastplate, and, in that dizziness, your verse ends.

The vision wavers away into nothingness.

The sense of great age returns in the resonances of the silvery steel breastplate, but you can detect nothing new from the breastplate.

#GemStoneIV