Orb Visions

Suddenly a vast smoke roils in and encompasses the world around you, shrouding it in billows of white fog. Your grip tightens on the scrying bowl and you feel frozen in place as the ground seems to drop down and spiral away from your mortal shell.

The mists part as your point of view turns and twists wildly, smoothly diving through a dark cavern. Tunnels and passages are taken without hesitation as the stone flies by on either side.

Coming to the end of a passageway you see a golden orb studded with rods hovering above a pit. The ball crackles with electricity as it hangs in the air.

As you move closer, the orb suddenly extends several rods from its surface, a bright blue glow exploding from within as it drops out of sight through the pit.

The dark hole flickers with the blue light as the orb slowly falls. In a violent explosion of white the scene goes black.

The scene changes to show the orb floating tranquily on a quickly flowing stream. As the ball is lost in the surf you hear a voice recite:
"What once was lost may not be found,
What once was found is now thrice lost.
Distance begs a look around-
In chambers bound by winter frost.
Gods know not where such things lay,
Nor should one expect to stumble there.
Time is no restraint upon their play,
When they may vanish upon thin air."

We travelled to Midgard, to the wights past the dead temples, and saw this through the mists….

You see a bright halo of light eclipsed by a dark figure at the back of the forest. The tendrils of fog light up with a searing glow as the spears of radiance stab into the darkness. With a loud sound, as if Boreas were sucking in a breath between gusts, the figure disappears along with the light… blackness replacing the scene as quickly as it had appeared.

Coming back again, we decided to check out Delphi once more, and found this…

Suddenly a vast smoke roils in and encompasses the world around you, shrouding it in billows of white fog. Your grip tightens on the scrying bowl and you feel frozen in place as the ground seems to drop down and spiral away from your mortal shell.

The mists roil and rumble as they are lit with spears of light. You hear a great sucking of wind and then the light vanishes, the surroundings coming into focus slightly before fading to black.

A golden orb floats into the blackness, spinning in the air as electric energy courses along its surface. A rod on its surface slides free of its own volition and you follow its freefall until it blinks out of sight.

A dark hand reaches out for the orb as it spins out of reach just as another bearing an olive branch beckons it. A third hand comes from beneath and touches it, causing it to vanish along with everything else.

A snow swept scene fades into view through the black, focussing on a hollow in the powder at the base of a tree. The depression is strange, a perfect bowl studded with smaller holes.

A drift of snow collapses to cover the hole in the ground. A feeling of loss permeates your being as you hear a voice recite:
"The game is on with players three,
A prize for each, lest one up and flees.
Two are found so one must remain,
Though one may never be used again.
The third travels swiftly, far from sight.
In Rome one morning, Persia that night.
Its bearer knows its secrets well…
Should they gather all three… who can tell?"

As suddenly as it arrived, the fog lifts and the room is once more visible. You release the scrying bowl with a gasp and sit heavily on the floor.

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