Item:Jade songsilk memoir bearing a dragon encircling a single sunstone
| jade songsilk memoir bearing a dragon encircling a single sunstone | |
|---|---|
| Look: | Smooth jade silk shimmers with a lattice of crystalline threads that shift in hue from deep green to pale gold as light moves across the surface. Faint texture breaks the fabric's gloss where woven relief outlines a sweeping coil. At the center, a polished yellow gem catches and scatters light in fine coppery bursts, its surface flashing with fleeting warmth against the cool gleam of the silk. There appears to be something written on it.
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| Weight: | 5 stones |
| Metal: | No |
| Appraised Cost: | 1,710,000 Kronars1,368,000 Lirums <br />1,233,936 Dokoras <br />1,710 LTBpoints <br />1,710 Tickets <br />1,710 Scrips <br /> |
| Properties: | This is a container.
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| Dimensions: | 2 length x 1 width x 1 height |
| Capacity: | 3 length x 3 width x 3 height (400 stones) |
| Sources: | Source is Tomes of Lore (2) |
Study Messaging
You turn to the first page of your songsilk memoir and begin to read.
You immerse yourself in the wisdom of your songsilk memoir, deepening your understanding of the forsaken scholar.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
Preface: Although I spent my life training as a Bard, I have never been one to put stories to parchment. That being said, I never thought my life would be worthy of being documented. And, who knows? Maybe it isn't. Maybe the mistakes I've made are too numerous and too great to deserve this opportunity to tell my tale. But, in what may be the world's final days, I find myself drawn to the quill and ink to share my story for whatever it might be worth.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
I recall very little of my youth. Throughout my studies, those memories were lost, aside from the knowledge that my name is Asildu, and my mother enjoyed telling me stories of history. One of her favorites was that of Lanival and his dragons. Whether or not that tale inspired my name, I cannot say. All I know is that it inspired *me*. It piqued my interest, leading me to ask questions about every powerful being known to lore. Dragons. Guardians. Heralds. But my mother's familiarity with those subjects was limited.
Eventually, I came of age to set out to learn on my own. My interest in history remained, so I sought out Silvryfrost at the Guild in Crossing to become a Bard in hopes that I might gain access to more knowledge. More information. My every waking moment was devoted to the local libraries, reading every book, over and over, until I had them memorized. Yet it wasn't enough. I wanted to know more.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
In hindsight, my fascination with the Heralds was what many would call... obsessive. The books told me they were beings of immense power, greater than that of the Immortals, which made me question why I was devoting my time and energy to Meraud if he was the weaker deity to choose. At the time, I wasn't quite prepared to give up my faith entirely, but I was tempted. I believed there were secrets we weren't being told, and that the answers were out there -- somewhere. I just needed to find them.
So I did. I packed up what few belongings I had and left civilization behind in search of what the books weren't telling me. The minimal knowledge I possessed combined with a bit of mental deduction led me to places I'm not sure anyone was ever intended to find, hidden entrances to ancient caverns containing objects of immense power beyond anything I'd ever imagined.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
What I didn't realize at the time was that my discovery of these... artifacts... was affecting me in various ways. Knowledge of myself began to vanish from my mind. Where I was from. Names of the people I knew. I remembered my mother's face and the stories she told me that inspired my studies, but my memory of her name or where I would find her if I thought to return home was gone. I began to feel as if my home was with the Heralds. As if they were somehow with me, though I didn't think it possible. The Heralds were too powerful to take note of a mere mortal like me. Yet there was no denying that I felt them. Faint, at first. The connection slowly growing with each artifact I discovered until the day I succumbed to the urge to place one of them atop my head when it called for me to do so. From that moment on, I was theirs. I just didn't know it.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
Through the connection I now undoubtedly had with the Heralds, I began to feel things. Sense things. Sometimes it was almost as if the sensations were putting thoughts in my head. Like the inherent knowledge that the Heralds were displeased with the rampant use of sorcery throughout the lands. I never studied it myself, due to what I knew of its use throughout history and the damage it had caused, so I took this as a sign that the Heralds were calling me to do something about it. Why else would they have granted me the abilities they did? The hardened layers of my skin. The ability to speak all languages. To cast elemental spells beyond that of my chosen guild. Magic had become unstable, and I viewed it as my duty to help. The last thing I wanted was to see the world fall. So I set aside my studies and returned to the Crossing for the first time in years only to find the situation was even more dire than I realized.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
To say I was surprised by the hostile reception I received would be an understatement. I felt confident in my knowledge and saw no reason to explain myself when it all made perfect sense -- to me. My time away from society left me incapable of understanding the hesitation of others, and I'll admit to some level of defensiveness that made me less inclined to share information beyond what I absolutely had to for the sake of saving the world. I had not come to Zoluren to hand my life's work to strangers. I'd worked too hard for it. I felt protective of it.
But then I met young Miraena. A farm girl who claimed to have received visions from the Heralds and sought to spread the same message as myself. Her very presence soothed me with the knowledge that I wasn't alone and that the Heralds were actively seeking to aid me in my efforts to aid them by sending me a partner. Someone who understood me, even if not entirely.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
Still, it wasn't enough. Despite the warnings Miraena and I gave, adventurers began to increase their use of sorcery rather than cease it. The first time they gathered en masse to cast their vile magic, Miraena and I begged them to stop. But they wouldn't listen. They continued with their casting, every spell seeming to increase the strength of my connection with the Heralds until I feared I would lose consciousness from the pain their rage inflicted upon me.
Never in my life had I felt anything like what I experienced that night. A rage beyond anything a mortal mind could comprehend. It transcended human emotion, threatening my sanity while I fought to suppress it. That rage wasn't me. I was angry about the use of sorcery, but that fury... it was too powerful. And I was -- and am -- but a man.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
The only way I can describe the way I felt in those days was as if my mind was melting within my head. Even now, I don't fully remember everything that happened. Everything I did. I know that it was terrible. I know that I have regrets. I know that I came into possession of unimaginable power through my connection with the Heralds, and people were harmed because of it, but I can say with every ounce of my being that it wasn't by any conscious choice of my own. To even think that I was capable of summoning drakes and facing down Elanthia's most skilled warriors...
To this day, I struggle to wrap my mind around it. It feels surreal, in the worst possible way, yet I know it occurred. Not because I remember anything with any clarity, but because my mind has recollected enough vague memories to tell me it wasn't a dream or an exaggeration on the part of those who accuse me of wrongdoing.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
If I were to note the one thing I do remember with undeniable accuracy, it is the moment I felt my soul forsaken by the Immortals. They tolerated my misguided rantings about their intentions, but they could not abide the atrocities my warped mind caused me to commit. Even if they understood it wasn't me, they couldn't save me. My connection with the Heralds was too strong. For lack of a better metaphor, I was the puppet of their enemy, and it was my devotion to the Heralds that led me down that path -- a fault that lies on no one's shoulders but my own. But I believed the Heralds wanted peace. I believed the Immortals sought to weaken the Heralds so they could usurp that which rightfully belonged to the beings who existed in this world before them. I believed I was on the right side of the war, even if I was on the wrong side of everything else.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
Although it does nothing to exonerate me of the guilt I bear, I find it important to note that my knowledge of the Heralds and what my studies led me to believe of them was the reason I felt such a loyalty to them for so long. At the start of my research, everything I learned of the Heralds indicated them to have been caretakers of Elanthia, while the Immortals were painted as foreign intruders who threatened the balance of the world the Heralds had tended for so long. This understanding was heightened by the visions and sensations I received through my connection to the Heralds that assured me peace was what the Heralds sought as a result of their actions in this war. Not that I had much ability to think for myself while under the effects of their mental control. But, even in the moments when a part of the real me surfaced, I had little reason to doubt them when peace was what I desired as well.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
It's difficult to say when I started to doubt everything I'd ever known. Moments of clarity were few and far between, but in those fleeting seconds, I started to feel things -- sense things -- within my connection to the Heralds that no longer matched what I'd felt before. Instead of visions of peace, I began to see images of death. Destruction. The complete and utter annihilation of the very world I set out to protect.
After a particularly strong vision, I experienced a moment of lucidity in which I finally realized what I had become. The monster the Heralds had made me. I started to seek ways to fight against the connection, developing a song I could perform that created a soothing effect strong enough to suppress the fury that threatened to pull me back under at even the slightest fumble. If I was going to make sense of things, I needed to be able to think for myself. To try and piece together the truth.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
Once my thoughts were again my own, it didn't take long for me to determine what needed to be done. Breaking my connection with the Heralds wasn't going to be easy and I doubted anyone would want to help me after everything I had done. Which is why it came as a shock to discover how willing so many were to offer aid. As much as I loathed the idea of destroying the artifacts I spent my entire life seeking and researching, I knew it was the only way to escape the mental bonds that held me while aiding in the destruction of weapons the Heralds might have otherwise been able to use against the Immortals -- and anyone else who stood against them. The final battle was drawing near, and my time to undo the evil I'd done was running short.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
What I didn't account for was how drastic of an effect the influence of the Heralds had on my memory. It took longer to remember the location of the artifacts than I expected -- on top of the fact that I was unable to accompany adventurers in their search for the first two out of fear that the Heralds would take note of what we were doing and stop us before the artifacts could be destroyed. First the bell. Then the knife. But it wasn't until the destruction of the crown that I felt my link with the Heralds dissipate, rendering my mind clear for the first time in years. A risk, of course, for me to eliminate that one myself, but one I had to take. If I was going to break free, the final blow had to be dealt by my hand. A victory I never would have attained had it not been for the support of those who aided in the effort.
Turning to the next page in your songsilk memoir, you read more about the forsaken scholar:
Since that day, I have turned my attention to the Immortals in hopes that I might find my way back to their light. Much to my dismay, they remain unresponsive to my efforts to gain favor, but that has not stopped me from doing what I can to make things right. The High Priestess Tallis has summoned me here to the Temple where I remain at present, writing these words, and providing every morsel of information I possess to aid in the defense against the Heralds. Hopefulness aside, however, I am under no delusion as to how this will end for me. A mortal, forsaken by the gods, taking on the Heralds -- it is a recipe for death I am prepared to suffer. I only hope I can do enough that Eylhaar may find it in her to spare my soul from its place in the Spiral I have earned.
To those who have known me, please accept my apologies for all I have done. May my sincerity and loyalty to the cause be yet proven on the battlefield.
By my hand,
Asildu
Having finished your studies, you close the cover of your songsilk memoir. You feel mentally tired but enlightened.