User:Secretpedia
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Inner Dialogue
You give yourself a moment to get lost in the hypnotic waves of the Aging Ocean.
You reflect on the events that lead to this very dock, here on the outskirts of Wyattwick, taking the time to breathe carefully.
The salty ocean breeze refreshes your senses and allows your mind to drift. For the first time in months, you let your hand drop from the pistol on your belt, the one that’s been by your side since you were strong enough to lift it.
Faces of onetime comrades blur and twist in the dark while the crashing surf struggles to drown out all that screaming in the distance.
The crack of nearby gunfire halts your brief reprieve and a sudden sense of dread washes over you.
The salty ocean breeze refreshes your senses and allows your mind to drift. For the first time in months, you let your hand drop from the pistol on your belt, the one that’s been by your side since you were strong enough to lift it.
Faces of onetime comrades blur and twist in the dark while the crashing surf struggles to drown out all that screaming in the distance.
The crack of nearby gunfire halts your brief reprieve and a sudden sense of dread washes over you.
Secret stuff (:
Cabinet Key
A small key.
There’s not much to this small key. It doesn’t seem large enough for a door, but might open a small chest or drawer.
Slick Runestone
This weighted runestone has rough edges.
On the back, there’s a crudely carved image of what appears to be a swimming horse.
A slick, wet film covers the stone. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to keep it dry.
A slick, wet film covers the stone. No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to keep it dry.
Sharp Runestone
A runestone with edges that cut like a blade.
Somehow, there is no way to hold it without incurring a cut or scratch. Even when you try to dull it on stone or metal, the edges never splinter or crack.
Airy Runestone
A runestone that weighs no more than a feather.
The stone is so light, if you close your hand, the only indication that something is contained inside is marked by its rough exterior brushing your skin. It might as well be air…
Shimmering Runestone
A runestone that appears to shimmer in the dark.
A teardrop runestone that has an almost iridescent quality in the shadows, but otherwise appears to be carved from average rock.
Blackened Runestone
A blackened runestone.
This peculiar stone has a black film that never seems to rub off. You lick your finger and try to find the surface underneath, but instead letters start to clear away.
One after the other, you uncover the message in tiny, carefully chiselled cursive.
Wasted meat is the curse of men. What the moon provides the sun leaves to rot and unpen.
Take up the charge and roar with our prince, for the Queen of the Night is not pulling the strings.
The bright yellow ball may one day fall.
Where the snow and the wind try their hardest to sin.
The Queen of the Night remains ever patient.
One after the other, you uncover the message in tiny, carefully chiselled cursive.
Wasted meat is the curse of men. What the moon provides the sun leaves to rot and unpen.
Take up the charge and roar with our prince, for the Queen of the Night is not pulling the strings.
The bright yellow ball may one day fall.
Where the snow and the wind try their hardest to sin.
The Queen of the Night remains ever patient.
Burning Runestone
A heated runestone.
This runestone is almost too hot to touch. It radiates an unexpected heat that never seems to cool.
Trick Book
A book with a hidden compartment.
You open the book to find a set of interlocked pages with a hinge. After feeling around for the latch, it flips open, revealing a key.
Unlocked Cabinet
You’ve managed to unlock the drawer.
Inside the drawer, you discover a smattering of worn photographs and sketches that appear to have been taken without the subject’s knowledge.
They are very clearly Colonial officers. Each photograph is numbered one through eight, except for the largest, which is marked “TM”.
It seems someone had been keeping a close eye on these individuals.
They are very clearly Colonial officers. Each photograph is numbered one through eight, except for the largest, which is marked “TM”.
It seems someone had been keeping a close eye on these individuals.
Locked Cabinet
There’s a locked cabinet.
You push and pull, even try to pry it open, to no avail. The thought of smashing it crosses your mind, but then you risk damaging the contents. Perhaps its locked for a reason.
Kelpie Statue
A peculiar, grisly statue seems to claw at you from the sea.
Its pained expression causes you to take a deeper look, not quite believing the creature to be carved from stone. Its gaze follows your eyes; Anguish is not far behind.
Inside the upper jaw, your eyes land upon a small runestone. It clearly fits into an inset cut into the stone. Against your better judgement, you reach in and tap the runestone. Then, you quickly pull your hand away, imagining that it might chomp down, leaving you one hand less than before your chance encounter.
Of course, it’s a statue, and doesn’t move. You reach back in and test the stability of the runestone. You pull and turn and it doesn’t move. Pressing in into the slot results in a satisfying clonk, and the stone falls loose into your hand.
Some script is carved into the inset.
The ancient ones await your Sun. Your worth is naught lest it be won.
Straddling between the roiling green, a siren’s call is calm and serene.
She awaits those who would hear her song; but be afeared, lest your soul be shorn.
Inside the upper jaw, your eyes land upon a small runestone. It clearly fits into an inset cut into the stone. Against your better judgement, you reach in and tap the runestone. Then, you quickly pull your hand away, imagining that it might chomp down, leaving you one hand less than before your chance encounter.
Of course, it’s a statue, and doesn’t move. You reach back in and test the stability of the runestone. You pull and turn and it doesn’t move. Pressing in into the slot results in a satisfying clonk, and the stone falls loose into your hand.
Some script is carved into the inset.
The ancient ones await your Sun. Your worth is naught lest it be won.
Straddling between the roiling green, a siren’s call is calm and serene.
She awaits those who would hear her song; but be afeared, lest your soul be shorn.
Endless Shore - M10k1
Kelpie Statue
Siren Statue
A monstrous maiden sits atop a rocky perch.
She stares back at you, contemplative. Through her expression alone, you swear you hear her song echoing off of the surrounding waves.
The song is longing and dread. After spending a moment in the same space, your initial unease begins to fade and you fall under her spell. Finally, you are overcome with a sense of grief and your eyes fall to the space between the creature’s hand and womb.
Curious, you place the slick runestone in the gap, expecting nothing more than the sound of the circling gulls in response. Only… something clicks and clinks onto the stones at your feet.
One of her scales has dislodged itself. You pick it up, and it cuts into your palm with razor-like edges.
An inscription is revealed in the space behind the sharp runestone.
Beware black mist and the raining ash, but embrace falling leaves as they pass.
Trust not your eyes nor weary mind; the fog rolls in to obscure, you’ll find.
Her beasts watch on where they ought to roam, their path is clear within the gloam.
Old gods are impatient.
The song is longing and dread. After spending a moment in the same space, your initial unease begins to fade and you fall under her spell. Finally, you are overcome with a sense of grief and your eyes fall to the space between the creature’s hand and womb.
Curious, you place the slick runestone in the gap, expecting nothing more than the sound of the circling gulls in response. Only… something clicks and clinks onto the stones at your feet.
One of her scales has dislodged itself. You pick it up, and it cuts into your palm with razor-like edges.
An inscription is revealed in the space behind the sharp runestone.
Beware black mist and the raining ash, but embrace falling leaves as they pass.
Trust not your eyes nor weary mind; the fog rolls in to obscure, you’ll find.
Her beasts watch on where they ought to roam, their path is clear within the gloam.
Old gods are impatient.
Farranac Coast - D9k2
Siren Statue
Siren Statue
A monstrous maiden sits atop a rocky perch.
She stares back at you, pleading; a demoness stranded within the neverending green.
Farranac Coast - D9k2
Siren Statue
Wolf Statue
A large, lifelike statue of a resting wolf flanked by a crow.
Before approaching you thought the wolf may have been real, watching you from afar, and thought of its eyes glistening in the dark, waiting for the right moment to pounce. The light hit it just so and the mirage dissipated, so you approach.
It’s much too large for a common wolf, and its companion is, of course, a curious addition.
Your mind runs as you ponder its addition and the purpose of these statues. This is now the third you’ve encountered, all made of a stone that doesn’t seem to weather or erode. You get the sense that they are ancient, still.
Some ancestral rite, maybe? An elaborate joke?
As the word “joke” flutters through your mind, you swear the crow tilted its head mockingly. Examining it closer, one eye appears to be inset rather than carved, like the other. Another key?
You comb the sculpture for any signs of where the sharp stone might fit, and find one of the wolf’s teeth missing. Sure enough, the runestone fits perfectly into its jaw with a sharp snap.
The crow’s eye falls to your feet and you scoop it up, though it feels like nothing in your hand.
Once again, the opening reveals an inscription.
A god’s home no more, those bones have broken before.
To wish and to hope is a weak endeavour, his tears built mountains that cried forever.
Could the end of the night bring on the light? His death came with a frightening flight.
Only his bastards mourned him, for he was disgraced. A king of the clouds, turned clown of the mounds.
It’s much too large for a common wolf, and its companion is, of course, a curious addition.
Your mind runs as you ponder its addition and the purpose of these statues. This is now the third you’ve encountered, all made of a stone that doesn’t seem to weather or erode. You get the sense that they are ancient, still.
Some ancestral rite, maybe? An elaborate joke?
As the word “joke” flutters through your mind, you swear the crow tilted its head mockingly. Examining it closer, one eye appears to be inset rather than carved, like the other. Another key?
You comb the sculpture for any signs of where the sharp stone might fit, and find one of the wolf’s teeth missing. Sure enough, the runestone fits perfectly into its jaw with a sharp snap.
The crow’s eye falls to your feet and you scoop it up, though it feels like nothing in your hand.
Once again, the opening reveals an inscription.
A god’s home no more, those bones have broken before.
To wish and to hope is a weak endeavour, his tears built mountains that cried forever.
Could the end of the night bring on the light? His death came with a frightening flight.
Only his bastards mourned him, for he was disgraced. A king of the clouds, turned clown of the mounds.
Umbral Wildwood - K11k3
Wolf Statue
Wolf Statue
A large, lifelike statue of a resting wolf flanked by a crow.
The lifelike posture of the wolf fills your gut with unease. Perhaps its best if you returned to the seas.
Umbral Wildwood - K11k3
Wolf Statue
Maiden Statue
A cloaked woman, carved from stone.
Much too large to be mistaken for a live person, this shrouded figure with clasped hands casts an imposing shadow over you. Perhaps meant to be a spectre of death, you know now the runestone’s trick so immediately you being scouring the stone for any obvious, or hidden recess.
Sadly, you can’t find anywhere to slot the featherlight stone.
You circle the statue, and stare at her obscured face. No matter which angle you take or how close you get, you can never make out her eyes. You inspect the stonework again, as thoroughly as you can, looking for any crevice or hairline divet.
When you once again circle around, the woman’s hands catch your attention. One is now open.
Sure enough, the featherlite stone slots perfectly between her delicately carved fingers.
There’s a sound that reminds you of an animal’s death rattle and the pinking of rock on rock. A tear shaped runestone has freed itself from the figure’s face.
What was once a featureless form, now proudly displays another inscription.
Death stands before you yet you do not pray. Man and beast are one and the same, nay;
The beast often outsmarts the man, oft when things fall out of plan.
Chasing swine through open fields, the Son of Night nearly made his meal.
Shelter his failure with sweet remorse, for the one-eyed waste did nail his course.
Sadly, you can’t find anywhere to slot the featherlight stone.
You circle the statue, and stare at her obscured face. No matter which angle you take or how close you get, you can never make out her eyes. You inspect the stonework again, as thoroughly as you can, looking for any crevice or hairline divet.
When you once again circle around, the woman’s hands catch your attention. One is now open.
Sure enough, the featherlite stone slots perfectly between her delicately carved fingers.
There’s a sound that reminds you of an animal’s death rattle and the pinking of rock on rock. A tear shaped runestone has freed itself from the figure’s face.
What was once a featureless form, now proudly displays another inscription.
Death stands before you yet you do not pray. Man and beast are one and the same, nay;
The beast often outsmarts the man, oft when things fall out of plan.
Chasing swine through open fields, the Son of Night nearly made his meal.
Shelter his failure with sweet remorse, for the one-eyed waste did nail his course.
Allod's Bight - K10k3
Maiden Statue
Maiden Statue
A cloaked woman, carved from stone.
Much too large to be mistaken for a living person, this shrouded figure with clasped hands casts an imposing shadow over you. It reminds you of a tree’s canopy at midday.
Allod's Bight - K10k3
Maiden Statue
Boar Statue
A beast locked in a dance with death.
A giant boar frozen in its moment of death. Is this the meal spoken of in the inscription? It’s certainly whole, and impaled by an otherworldy spear.
Its eyes bulge at you, both furious and pleading. It yearns for the death not awarded it. You lament that you can’t aid in its end before reminding yourself that it’s just a statue. There are many places a stone might be inset, but nothing quite fits the stone in your possession.
Not to be fooled twice you spot the most likely spot. A gap at the very tip of the spear looks suspiciously round.
Fits like a glove.
This time, there was not a sound, and so perhaps you’ve celebrated prematurely. Your eyes then follow the length of the spear and, for a moment, unfocus, then refocus at the point of penetration. And wouldn’t you know it, a chunk of boar’s flesh rolls away from the body.
Your hand is stained black as you palm the stone. There’s no inscription this time, at least not one you can find.
Its eyes bulge at you, both furious and pleading. It yearns for the death not awarded it. You lament that you can’t aid in its end before reminding yourself that it’s just a statue. There are many places a stone might be inset, but nothing quite fits the stone in your possession.
Not to be fooled twice you spot the most likely spot. A gap at the very tip of the spear looks suspiciously round.
Fits like a glove.
This time, there was not a sound, and so perhaps you’ve celebrated prematurely. Your eyes then follow the length of the spear and, for a moment, unfocus, then refocus at the point of penetration. And wouldn’t you know it, a chunk of boar’s flesh rolls away from the body.
Your hand is stained black as you palm the stone. There’s no inscription this time, at least not one you can find.
Loch Mór - N6k4
Boar Statue
Boar Statue
A beast locked in a dance with death.
A giant boar frozen in its moment of death. Who would devise such a sculpture? Its mangy look and terrified eyes revolt you, such that you wish for rain or a rushing stream to cleanse away the filth.
Loch Mór - N6k4
Boar Statue
Warrior Statue
An imposing sculpture of a massive antlered warrior.
A terrifying vision from afar, this massive stone statue must have taken an army to carve. The texture on the antlers and skull is so lifelike it wouldn’t surprise you if it was cut away from an oversized petrified reindeer.
He is the visage of fury and malice, all anger and no gentleness. His singular eye pierces through you when you catch its gaze, covering your body in gooseflesh.
This time, the solution is too obvious. You slot the stone into the figure’s empty eye socket.
One eye black, one stone.
The opposing eye tumbled to the ground below. You peer into the now open socket.
Cold and Night are fated lovers, both Imprisoned in the Sun's barbarous spurs.
Laid out by Pride, light mocks the dark; at the peak of the land, no shadows embark.
Take ye this stone, for it holds the key. To the secret of Night who yearns to be freed.
He is the visage of fury and malice, all anger and no gentleness. His singular eye pierces through you when you catch its gaze, covering your body in gooseflesh.
This time, the solution is too obvious. You slot the stone into the figure’s empty eye socket.
One eye black, one stone.
The opposing eye tumbled to the ground below. You peer into the now open socket.
Cold and Night are fated lovers, both Imprisoned in the Sun's barbarous spurs.
Laid out by Pride, light mocks the dark; at the peak of the land, no shadows embark.
Take ye this stone, for it holds the key. To the secret of Night who yearns to be freed.
Reaching Trail - L4k7
Warrior Statue
Warrior Statue
An imposing sculpture of a massive antlered warrior.
A terrifying vision from afar, this massive stone statue must have taken an army to carve. Before it falls on you, you think it’d be best to find greener pastures.
Reaching Trail - L4k7
Warrior Statue
Queen Statue
A seated woman with a regal disposition. A crow rests on her hand.
After a harrowing climb, you reach the peak to find a stone statue of a woman seated atop a throne. Looking up at her, you feel as a knight kneeling before your queen. Her ghostly gaze envelopes you.
Being in her presence is more of a relief than any sort of intimidation. You imagine her taking you under her wing, whispering words that give you hope. The stone itself all but vibrates with an energy you cannot quite place. This is an ancient place.
Several frozen corpses surround the throne and it leaves you wondering who they might be? How did they get here? The climb up was no walk in a park, so it seems like a sure amount of effort would have gone into transporting them. Are they a sort of sacrifice or tribute?
The crow’s wide open mouth is begging for sustenance, so you climb up onto the throne and insert the burning runestone.
It fits in with a satisfying click.
A stone panel on the arm of the throne that you’re standing on begins to shudder. You stand aside, and it flips over, revealing another inscription.
Betrayed by the Sun, you’ve indulged in my game. It’s all for not for I’ve been rendered lame.
Heed not the venom spewed by vicars and saints; they bring only decay, it’s with your blood that they paint.
This sacred land was taken by blade. The ancients remember the blanket they made.
Do not be blinded by the light above, for truth is revealed where shadows have nothing to prove.
The Sun provides fleeting warmth, but the night persists long after the hearth.
Being in her presence is more of a relief than any sort of intimidation. You imagine her taking you under her wing, whispering words that give you hope. The stone itself all but vibrates with an energy you cannot quite place. This is an ancient place.
Several frozen corpses surround the throne and it leaves you wondering who they might be? How did they get here? The climb up was no walk in a park, so it seems like a sure amount of effort would have gone into transporting them. Are they a sort of sacrifice or tribute?
The crow’s wide open mouth is begging for sustenance, so you climb up onto the throne and insert the burning runestone.
It fits in with a satisfying click.
A stone panel on the arm of the throne that you’re standing on begins to shudder. You stand aside, and it flips over, revealing another inscription.
Betrayed by the Sun, you’ve indulged in my game. It’s all for not for I’ve been rendered lame.
Heed not the venom spewed by vicars and saints; they bring only decay, it’s with your blood that they paint.
This sacred land was taken by blade. The ancients remember the blanket they made.
Do not be blinded by the light above, for truth is revealed where shadows have nothing to prove.
The Sun provides fleeting warmth, but the night persists long after the hearth.
Clanshead Valley - K3k6
Queen Statue
Queen Statue
A seated woman with a regal disposition. A crow rests on her hand.
After a harrowing climb, you reach the peak to find a stone statue of a woman seated atop a throne. It’s cold up here, and you can’t seem to stay warm.
Clanshead Valley - K3k6
Queen Statue
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