The Vitality Stone

The City of the Lights has many and variegate districts...it is quite large; an ancient mathematician once estimated it's length, north to south, as three thousand miles as the albatross flies. He also figured out how to mathematically throw the perfect party. His algorithm is a grave secret, and held as a national security asset in the Eternity Vaults of the City's northern territories. He is said to have once thrown a party so epic, it threw the entire City into an economic depression for three months afterwards, while everyone recovered their senses and tracked down their underwear. There is a place, however, far to the west. A dark place; it seems as if gray thunderheads live there above the region, and the aesthetic is very dark. Gargoyles and other grotesques simply litter the architecture, which is stone and clay tile as often as possible. Any available wood is dark, stained by the process they use to preserve the timbers. The streets are paved with dark gray cobblestones, and when the paved streets of the city give way to the dirt streets of the countryside, even the dust of the roads seems too dark, too gray, somehow. It seems like the sun never fully rises here, which is ridiculous, but there we are. This is the County of Ravenbrooke, a collection of towns and small cities that cluster together in the dank, misty region. Arranged in a circle around a large, forested area, these towns are all within sight of the tall, tall tower in the exact center of the Corvidwud. There is no road to this tower, no path through the brambles and thick briar tangles, except for one night per year. The midwinter night, at sunset, an opening appears in the thorny bushes and thick brush of the wood. At midnight, a black clad figure driving a horse-drawn hearse appears, reins in, and the back of the hearse opens, revealing an open coffin coddling a large, red, rock. A piece of rose quartz, a polished chunk of crystal three feet long, and easily over a hundred pounds. A stylized human heart, it is grotesquely accurate in form and perspective. 

Representatives from each village are present. Baring little silver blades, they each cut into a vein, drip a copious amount of their own life blood over the crystal, and step aside to make way for the next. The crystal begins to glow with an eerie, red halo, growing in intensity with every ounce of precious blood drained upon it. Twelve twelves of one-hundred¹ converge in silence, each of them grimly slashing at their own flesh in tribute to this ferociously glowing piece of crystal. There is no chant, no procession or parade. Just twelve long lines, stretching out from the fancy, highly polished horse drawn hearse in spokes of black robed, hooded figures. A quick flash of silver, a thick dollop of blood, and the pulsing of this red, red crystal intensifies and takes on a steadier rhythm. The black horse stands there placidly, the smell of all of the blood not spooking it at all, leading to whispers and stories of carnivorous horses raised in the base of the tower. The leather has been treated with orange oil. The silver fittings are polished to a mirror sheen. The driver, faceless in his deep hood, is dressed smartly in the olden style of a royal footman, with black leather riding boots and a heavy chain clasping his thick, muffling cape and hood. He is wearing a silver watch and chain, which he checks twice over the course of the night. The hearse closes magically one hour before sunrise, and the Footman drives the now brilliantly glowing heart shaped stone back into the gaping maw of the forest. Closing in behind the Footman, the forest is quickly so dense as to block even the pulsing light of the bright, crystal organ. Soon enough, the pulsing beat of the heart's piercing light can once again be seen beaming through the glass of the tower's uppermost floor, high above the treetops. The lines of people disperse glumly, heads bowed under the weight of their leader, the Count's, oppression.

Mechanics & Inner Workings

It works much like a magical power inverter, granting the Count access to eternal youth and vitality.

Manufacturing process

It was hand carved by Count Rolfe himself.

History

Having been a necessary part of the Corvidwud people's lives for the last fifty seven years, the Heart Stone has been the only solution the royals have been able to find to keep the Curse of the Phage at bay.

Significance

The people of the region believe it is the only thing keeping them alive.

¹ 14,400

Item type

Unique Artifact

Creation Date

5376NG

Current Location

The City of the Lights

Rarity

The people of Ravenbrooke have only ever heard of the one; Count Rolfe's.

Weight

316lbs.

Dimensions

Approx. 3' at it's longest point, and 2' thick at it's widest.

Base Price

Unknown

Raw materials & Components

It is carved out of a single giant piece of rose quartz.

Tools

It has been shaped and smoothed masterfully.