[back to 740 event][Back to Main]
Incandescent ribbons of light wash across your vision, lapping at the edges of your sight like waves on an unseen shore.
You hear echoes of chanting -- a voice, focused and determined, as the ribbons of light superimposing themselves across your vision swirl and form vague, unfocused shapes.
The voice continues its ceaseless, droning chants -- and the glowing edges of light bend and twist slightly under the insistent murmur of the arcane invocations.
A tapestry of crimson-ringed dots of light twinkle to life in your vision, becoming swirled within the hazy glowing pattern that twists and writhes before your eyes.
The voice tapers off into silence, and as it does, your vision returns to normal.
Vague ripples stir in your mind, forming hazy patterns that flow with brightl -burning essence. A voice speaks, distant and its words half-formed in a language you do not know.
The ripples superimposing themselves over your vision begin to take on a somewhat clear, vaguely runic shape -- the essence burning within them flaring brighter for a moment.
The glowing pattern burns brighter in your mind, its faint ripples mirroring the droning cadence of the faint voice murmuring arcane chants in a ceaseless fashion.
The pattern slowly dissolves like a rotting leaf, pieces of it flaking off until it is no more as the voice fades into silence.
Blackness swirls across your vision, and as it begins to fade, you glimpse the form of a faint pattern slowly becoming clearer and clearer -- its edges twitching oddly with flares of light.
The wavering pattern shifts between a hazy image and a clear one, its edges always remaining blurred while its interior swings back and forth between clarity and obscurity.
The strange, runic vision melts away like candlewax, dribbling past your vision as reality drifts in once again.
A hand whose interior is filled with blackness dotted with starlight opens before your eyes in a beckoning gesture. A deep voice intones, "The ruins in the East. In one hour. Come." The hand soon disappears, and then the voice lapses into silence.
A hand whose interior is filled with a starlit void superimposes itself over your vision. A deep voice begins to murmur, "The Guild in the East. One hour. Should you overly value your life, or your sanity, do not attend." The hand soon disappears, and the voice lapses into silence.
Suddenly, a wave of irreality washes over you, like the aftershock of a massive explosion, and for a brief moment you glimpse a world not your own -- a world full of twisting, aqeuous horrors and a bloody sky that weeps black tears of acid. And then the vision fades away.
Flashes of brilliant crimson light fill your vision like newborn stars, and each pinpoint of light begins to pulse brighter and brighter.
The crimson stars begin to swirl and coalesce upon one another, forming vicious torrents of swirling cyclones that fill the entirety of your vision with their vast intricacies.
A pattern begins to form out of the massive torrent of unleashed energy building before your eyes -- the bright, angular channels cutting a swath through the chaotic mass of crimson and channeling it into a defined pathway.
The pattern continues to slice through the chaotic haze of crimson, and for a time it looks as if the two are fighting -- an eternal struggle of order against chaos, the swirling incarnadine spirals lashing outward against the angles desperately
The pattern slowly resolves itself into a clear, complete image before you -- its lines flaring brightly as the remaining scarlet swirls are confined within its borders.
The pattern within your mind begins to flare brightly -- and for a moment, you see the *entirety* of it, every line, every angle, every complex loop and curve that forms its overall structure, every supporting arch and every detailed flourish -- each tiny detail burns itself into your mind, branding the very core of your thoughts with its intricate patterns. And then it fades away, and the knowledge of its complexity feels as if it had been there all along.
Visions seen on 3/07/2006 posted on the forums by Moredin (they brought about a change on the names of 740 runes)
>Something tears away in your mind, and you see a familiar pattern that you once glimpsed but a short time ago -- again, your mind eases into its languid, complex curvature and intricate design. But this time, you notice faint dark patches of shadow, obscuring bits and pieces of the otherwise blazing pattern.
>With a brilliant burst of light, the shadowy patches obscuring the pattern are swiftly dispersed in a spectacular display of scarlet fire racing across the intricate channels of the design. You feel something change in the flow of mana around you before the pattern once again recedes into memory.