Chronicleaf 73

Lore Chronicleaf-73 is believed to be a physical manifestation of the world’s memory. Ancient legends from a now-vanished civilization of scribes and historians speak of its cultivation in vast, sacred gardens. These gardens were not chosen for their fertile soil in a traditional sense, but were instead established upon grounds that had witnessed events of immense historical or emotional significance—the sites of epic battles, the founding places of great cities, or the locations of profound magical convergences. These ancient lorekeepers believed the plant did not draw nutrients from the soil, but rather absorbed the lingering psychic and temporal echoes of the past. They would consume it in ritualistic teas to witness history firsthand, ensuring their chronicles were unflinchingly accurate. With the fall of their civilization, the knowledge of how to cultivate Chronicleaf was lost, and the plant now grows only in the wild, a rare and silent witness to bygone eras.

Use The primary use of Chronicleaf-73 is to experience a direct vision of the past. The herb is most potent when its leaves are steeped in pure, heated water for several minutes and consumed as a tea. Upon drinking the infusion, the user experiences a brief, fragmented, and sensory vision of a significant event that transpired at the exact location where the herb was harvested. These visions are not clear narratives but are instead flashes of powerful moments, filled with the sights, sounds, and intense emotions of the past. A secondary use involves carefully drying and grinding the leaves into a fine powder. When this powder is sprinkled over an object found in the same vicinity as the herb, the user may receive a fleeting mental image related to the object’s creation or a key moment in its history.

Environment Where Found Chronicleaf-73 is not found in common fields or forests. It grows exclusively in areas saturated with historical energy. It can be discovered sprouting from the cracks in the flagstones of ancient and forgotten ruins, pushing up through the soil of long-abandoned battlefields, or growing in the deep shadows of monolithic standing stones erected by cultures lost to time. The plant seems to thrive in soil that has been permeated for centuries with the echoes of significant events, making its discovery a sign that the location itself holds a deeper story. It is never found in large patches, but as solitary, significant specimens.

How it is known Most common folk are entirely unaware of Chronicleaf-73’s existence. Its properties are detailed in fragmented historical texts, obscure academic papers on ethnobotany, and the journals of forgotten explorers. Sages, dedicated historians, and some high-level alchemists may know of it by name and reputation, though few have ever encountered it. To the possessor of the Mind’s Eye, a passive examination would identify the plant by its name and its general classification as a rare alchemical herb. An active use of the “identify” ability would reveal its true purpose as a conduit for viewing past events, confirming the legends surrounding it.

How it is Harvested Harvesting Chronicleaf-73 requires specific care to preserve its temporal properties. The plant must be severed at its root using a blade made of non-metallic material, such as sharpened obsidian, bone, or magically hardened wood. The use of a metal blade is believed to “ground” the historical energy stored within the leaves, rendering them inert. The ideal time for harvesting is during the twilight hours, either at dawn or dusk, when local folklore suggests the veil between the past and present is at its thinnest. The entire plant must be taken, as the leaves and the root hold different facets of the absorbed memory.

Tags: Herb, Alchemical, Consumable, Divination, Rare, Historical, Divine, Cursed, Abjuration, Focus, Attunement Required, Legendary, Mechanical, Sentient, Utility, Psychic, Area of Effect

Positives When consumed, Chronicleaf-73 provides direct, if fragmented, visual and emotional clues about the history of a location. This can be instrumental in solving location-based mysteries, understanding the context of a ruin, or discovering information that has been lost to time. It offers a method of information gathering that is entirely independent of social interaction or traditional research. Finding it can give a character a profound sense of connection to the deep and layered history of the world.

Negatives The visions granted by the herb are never complete and are always open to the user’s interpretation, potentially leading to incorrect conclusions if not considered carefully. Furthermore, witnessing a particularly violent or tragic event from the past can inflict a psychological toll on the user, resulting in temporary emotional or mental debuffs. The herb is highly perishable; its unique magical properties fade within forty-eight hours of being harvested unless it is preserved through a complex and often costly alchemical process. Consuming more than one dose in a short period can trigger the Overwhelm effect, flooding the user’s mind with a chaotic jumble of historical echoes and rendering them mentally stunned.

Chronicleaf-73, due to its rarity, perishability, and specialized nature, is not a commodity found in open-air markets or general stores. Its trade is confined to niche, often discreet establishments that cater to clients with specific and esoteric needs.

Types of Shops and Transaction Methods

1. The Antiquarian’s Study or Sage’s Scriptorium These are shops that deal in knowledge and history above all else. Located in the scholarly quarters of large cities or secluded in ancient towns known for their extensive libraries, these establishments smell of aging parchment and dust. The shopkeeper is typically a historian, a retired academic, or a sage who values the direct insight the herb provides.

• How it is Sold: An adventurer bringing a fresh Chronicleaf-73 here would be met with intense scrutiny. The shopkeeper’s primary interest is not the herb itself, but the location from which it was harvested. The transaction would be more of an academic debriefing than a simple sale. The seller would be questioned about the ruins, the battlefield, or the monolith where it was found. The herb would be kept in a magically chilled, lightless container to stall its rapid decay. Payment might be offered not just in coin, but also in the form of rare maps, translations of ancient texts, or information pertinent to the seller’s quests, especially if those quests relate to the history of the area.
• How it is Bought: A buyer cannot simply walk in and request Chronicleaf. They would need to present a specific historical problem or artifact they are researching. The sage would sell a leaf only if convinced the buyer’s purpose is to uncover lost knowledge rather than for mere profit or plunder. The herb is sold fresh, with a stern warning about its 48-hour efficacy limit, making the purchase a time-sensitive commitment.

2. The Alchemist’s Crucible These are the primary processors of Chronicleaf. Found in districts known for magical crafts or sometimes in secretive cellars to avoid the notice of rivals, these shops are filled with the bubbling of arcane apparatus and the sharp scents of exotic reagents. The alchemist sees the herb not as a piece of history, but as a potent, unstable ingredient.

• How it is Sold: An alchemist is the most likely buyer for a fresh, unpreserved leaf. They possess the knowledge and equipment to stabilize its temporal properties, usually by distilling its essence into a “Tincture of Echoes” or drying it into a “Temporal Dust” using a complex process involving elemental magic and rare mineral salts. They will pay a fair price in coin, understanding the risk and urgency. The value is based on the leaf’s freshness; a leaf that is more than a day old is worth significantly less.
• How it is Bought: One does not buy fresh Chronicleaf from an alchemist; one buys the preserved result. A single dose of Tincture of Echoes or a pinch of Temporal Dust is sold in a sealed, magically inert vial. This is a finished, stable product that can last for years. The alchemist will market it as a divination tool for wealthy patrons, treasure hunters, or guilds seeking to verify the provenance of an artifact or scout the history of a potential stronghold. The transaction is professional and financial, with less emphasis on the herb’s original location, though tinctures derived from sites of great renown will fetch a higher price.

3. The Shadow Brokerage or Guild of Whispers In the sprawling underbelly of metropolises or within clandestine networks, information is the most valuable currency. Chronicleaf is a tool for espionage, blackmail, and uncovering secrets others wish to remain buried. There is no physical shop.

• How it is Bought and Sold: Transactions occur through intermediaries in dimly lit taverns, secret meetings in the dead of night, or via coded messages left at drop points. A seller with a fresh leaf from a politically sensitive location—such as the ruins of an old ministry building or the ancestral tomb of a rival noble family—could command an exorbitant price. Payment is swift and often in untraceable platinum or valuable gems. The buyers are spies, thieves’ guilds, or political entities who will immediately dispatch the herb to their own private alchemist or seer. They buy the potential of the information it holds, making it a high-risk, high-reward purchase. Selling in this market is dangerous, as the seller becomes a loose end who knows where the valuable herb was found.

Cost

The value of Chronicleaf-73 is highly volatile and depends on three factors: its freshness, the historical significance of its harvest location, and the market in which it is being sold.

• A Single, Freshly Harvested Leaf (less than 48 hours old):
  • From a location of minor or unknown historical significance, a seller could expect to receive 8 Gold and 5 Silver Pieces.
  • From a location of known, significant history (e.g., a recognized ancient battlefield), the price would increase to around 2 Platinum Pieces.
  • The buyer (typically an alchemist or a scholar) is purchasing an unstable and time-sensitive ingredient, which is reflected in the price.
• A Single Preserved Dose (Tincture of Echoes or Temporal Dust):
  • This is a finished, stable magical good. Its price is much higher due to the skill, time, and additional reagents required for its creation.
  • A standard dose, with its origin being a common or unspecified ruin, would be sold by an alchemist for 8 Platinum Pieces. This is a significant expense, typically undertaken to solve a major mystery or find a specific, valuable piece of information. The cost ensures that only those with serious intent will purchase it.

Perception of Chronicleaf-73

Sight (Visual Perception)

• Gatherer’s Perception: The plant possesses broad, waxy leaves of a deep, muted teal, with dark, purplish undersides. What makes it truly unique are the faint, silvery glyphs that drift across the leaf surfaces. These are not static markings; they flow and swirl like slow currents of mercury, occasionally coalescing into a recognizable arcane symbol before dissolving back into abstract patterns. The plant seems to drink the light around it, creating a small well of shadow at its base, making it appear both solid and ethereal.
• Positives: The shifting glyphs serve as an unmistakable sign of its potent magical nature, preventing misidentification with any mundane foliage. This unique appearance makes it relatively easy to spot for someone who knows what they are looking for.
• Negatives: The slow, hypnotic dance of the symbols is captivating. Staring at them for too long can lull a gatherer into a state of distraction, making them vulnerable to environmental dangers or surprise attacks in the ancient and often perilous locations where the herb is found.

Touch (Tactile Perception)

• Gatherer’s Perception: The leaves are unnaturally cool to the touch, feeling like polished, cold stone regardless of the ambient temperature of the environment. They are surprisingly rigid and don’t bend easily. When held, a faint, almost imperceptible vibration, like a low hum, tingles at the gatherer’s fingertips.
• Positives: The distinct coolness and texture are key identifiers, confirming the herb’s identity upon physical contact. The leaves’ rigidity makes them durable, reducing the risk of them being crushed or damaged during harvest and transport.
• Negatives: The unnatural coldness can be unsettling and seems to subtly leech warmth from the hands. If held for an extended period, the constant, low-level vibration can cause a creeping numbness in the fingers, slightly impairing dexterity.

Smell (Olfactory Perception)

• Gatherer’s Perception: The aroma is complex and ancient. The most prominent scent is that of old vellum and dry dust, mingled with petrichor—the distinct smell of the first rain on parched earth. Layered beneath this is a faint, sharp metallic tang, reminiscent of ozone just after a lightning strike.
• Positives: The scent is unique and not easily mistaken for other plants. It is not overpowering and is unlikely to attract the attention of common foraging animals or unintelligent beasts that rely on smell.
• Negatives: The dominant smell of dust and decay can be unpleasant or even cloying to some individuals. The sharp, ozone-like undertone can be slightly irritating to sensitive nasal passages if inhaled too deeply.

Magical Perception (Aura)

• Gatherer’s Perception: To one who can sense magical auras, Chronicleaf-73 is a profound anomaly. It does not radiate power but instead acts as a magical sinkhole. It feels like a void, a quiet spot of null energy that actively draws in ambient magic from its surroundings. The power it holds is turned inward, feeling incredibly dense, ancient, and compressed.
• Positives: This unique “null” signature makes it stand out clearly to a magic-user scanning an area for magical energies. It cannot be mistaken for an illusion or a magical trap, as its properties are absorptive rather than emissive.
• Negatives: The feeling of a magical vacuum can be deeply disconcerting to spellcasters accustomed to the vibrant flow of magic. Its absorptive nature can interfere with nearby divination or detection spells, creating a “blind spot” in a mage’s magical awareness.

Temporal Perception

• Gatherer’s Perception: Being in close proximity to the herb feels like standing at the edge of a deep, still pond. There is a sense that time itself is thicker, moving a fraction slower in its immediate vicinity. Thoughts feel more deliberate and clear. The gatherer might catch fleeting flickers of motion at the edge of their vision—afterimages of things that are no longer there.
• Positives: The sense of temporal stillness can be profoundly calming, allowing for a moment of intense focus in a dangerous or confusing situation. This heightened clarity can help one notice small environmental details that would otherwise be missed.
• Negatives: The subtle distortion of time can cause a sense of dissociation or vertigo. The peripheral phantoms are unsettling and can easily be mistaken for a lurking threat, inducing a state of heightened paranoia.

Empathic/Psychic Perception

• Gatherer’s Perception: The plant is not sentient, but it passively resonates with the powerful emotions of the events it has absorbed. Standing near it is like hearing a thousand overlapping whispers from a great distance. Faint, residual emotions wash over the gatherer in waves: the terror of a final stand, the solemn awe of a high ritual, the despair of a city’s fall.
• Positives: The nature of the emotional residue provides immediate, instinctual clues about the history of the location. A feeling of dread indicates a site of tragedy, while a feeling of reverence might point to a forgotten holy site.
• Negatives: If the location’s history is particularly traumatic, the emotional feedback can be staggering. The gatherer might be hit with a sudden, potent wave of unexplained fear, rage, or sorrow, potentially imposing a temporary mental debuff or triggering a panic response.

Mind’s Eye Perception

• Gatherer’s Perception:
  • Passive Activation: The Mind’s Eye instantly provides the name “Chronicleaf” and the tags: “Rare, Historical, Alchemical Herb.” A flicker of innate understanding accompanies it: “Stores echoes of the past.”
  • Active Activation (“Identify”): Focusing intently reveals a flood of deeper data. Stats appear as conceptual values: [Potency: High], [Temporal Clarity: Fragmented], [Stability: Volatile; Inert in <48 hours>], [Primary Use: Ritual consumption unveils localized temporal vision], [Key Weakness: Contact with common metals grounds temporal charge]. The user might also perceive a faint conceptual signature of the absorbed event, such as [Event Type: Cataclysmic Battle] or [Era: The Sunken Kingdom].
• Positives: This provides the most accurate and actionable information available. It confirms the herb’s identity, its precise use, its monetary value, and its critical weaknesses, allowing the gatherer to harvest and handle it correctly to preserve its properties.
• Negatives: The sheer density of temporal information packed into the herb threatens to trigger the “Overwhelm” limitation. An unprepared or low-tier character attempting to “Identify” it might be slammed with a chaotic montage of sights, sounds, and emotions from the past, resulting in a temporary inability to use the Mind’s Eye and a short-term debuff such as Confusion or Stun.

King Vorlag and Garden of Faded Truths

It is said, in the writings that are themselves shadows of older writings, from a tongue that has no name now, that there was a King, his name was Vorlag, and his spirit was heavy with the gold of his crown and the stone of his fortress. His days were spent not in ruling what was, but in deep pondering of what had already passed into the soil. He was a man whose thoughts walked a crooked path back into the yesterday. For it was his great vexation that the stories of his ancestors, of the First King who wore the Crown of Dawn, were told by scribes, and the mouths of scribes are filled with the dust of another man’s words. He desired not the story, but the truth of the story, the feeling of it, the very breath of the moment it was born.

In the deepest, most shadowed court of his great stone house, there was a garden. It was not a garden of bright flowers or sweet fruits. It was the Garden of Faded Truths, and in it grew only one plant, the herb that the ancients called the Time-Trace, which we now know as Chronicleaf. The Tenders of this garden were silent men, whose hands were stained not with dirt but with the echoes of history.

And so did King Vorlag summon the First Tender, a man whose face was a map of wrinkles and whose eyes held the stillness of a deep well. The King spoke, and his voice was like the grinding of stones. “You who tend the whispers of the ground, I will have the truth of my beginning. The scribes tell me the First King, my ancestor, claimed his crown upon the Sunstone Peak when the sky was fire. I will see this. I will not have the telling of it. I will have the thing itself.”

The First Tender made a bow, so low his forehead touched the cold floor. He spoke, and his voice was like the rustle of dry leaves. “Great King, the leaf shows only a piece. A fragment. A shard of what was. It shows the glint of the sword, but not the thought of the man who swung it. It shows the tear, but not the shape of the heart that broke. To look at the past is to look through a crack in a great wall. To see all of it would be… unwise.”

But the King’s heart was a stone in his chest, and he would not be moved. His pride was a great mountain that cast a shadow over the wisdom of the Tender. He did make a proclamation. “Gather the leaves. Not one leaf, for a small taste of a small moment. Not a handful of leaves, for a fractured vision. Gather all the leaves that are oldest. A great multitude of leaves. You will press them and steam them and make for me a draught so potent that the crack in the wall of time will be thrown open like a gate. I will stand on Sunstone Peak with my ancestor. I will feel the fire of the sky on my own face.”

The Tenders did as they were commanded, for the will of a King is a mighty river that sweeps all before it. They took blades of sharp rock and harvested the most ancient of the Chronicleaf, the ones whose shifting glyphs were brightest. They did boil it with waters from the first mountain spring in a great cauldron of hammered copper, under a sky with no moon. The steam that rose from it did not smell of herbs, but of dust and cold metal and the sorrow of forgotten things. For three days and three nights they brewed this, until the water was a shimmering, inky black, and it seemed to hold the darkness of a thousand starless nights within its depths.

They proffered the draught to the King in a goblet carved from a single great pearl. King Vorlag, whose name was Grandiose, took the goblet in his hands. It felt cool, like the touch of a ghost. He drank it down, every drop.

And the gate was not opened. The wall of time did not crack. It shattered. It exploded into his soul.

He saw not one sunrise, but ten thousand sunrises at one time, all the sunrises his ancestors had ever witnessed. He felt the cold iron of the first crown on his ancestor’s brow, but he also felt the gnawing hunger of the seventh king during the Great Famine, and the searing pain of the fourteenth king’s battle-wound, and the quiet joy of his great-grandmother’s firstborn child’s cry. He heard a million conversations at once, the plotting of traitors and the vows of lovers and the babbling of infants. He lived every victory, every brutal defeat, every moment of sickness, every peaceful death, every tedious afternoon of his entire line, all of it, all at once, in a single, terrible, endless moment.

King Vorlag did not scream. There was no room for his own scream among the billion screams of his past. He sat upon his great stone throne, his eyes wide and seeing everything, and therefore seeing nothing. The goblet of pearl fell from his limp fingers and shattered on the floor. He knew everything, and so he understood nothing. When his council spoke to him of taxes and armies, he would only whisper of the price of salt in the Second Age, or the color of a horse that fell in a battle whose name was no longer remembered. His words were a tapestry of forgotten battles and lullabies no longer sung.

The kingdom, without a king to guide the present, withered like a vine cut from its root. The great stone house fell into ruin, and the Garden of Faded Truths was abandoned, its secrets left to the wind and the rain, which is why the Chronicleaf now grows wild in such lonely, echoing places.

Moral of the Story: The man who seeks to own the entire river of the past will find he has only drowned in a single drop of it.

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Seer’s Infusion of Echoes-118

This is the most common and direct use of Chronicleaf: a ritual tea brewed to grant the drinker a fragmented vision of the past specific to the location where the herb was harvested.

Ingredients:

• One fresh leaf of Chronicleaf-73
• Pure, unadulterated water (spring water is preferred)
• A single drop of the preparer’s own blood

Activation of Magic and Roleplay: The process is meditative and requires unbroken focus. The roleplaying character would find a quiet, stable place to begin the ritual, preferably near where the herb was found to strengthen the connection. Using a non-metallic vessel, like a ceramic bowl or a hollowed stone, they bring the pure water to a gentle heat using a small, controlled magical flame or mundane fire.

The character takes the Chronicleaf leaf, holding it with reverence. As they lower it into the warm water, the magic begins to activate. The silvery glyphs on the leaf’s surface detach and begin to swirl through the water, casting faint, shifting patterns of light against the sides of the bowl. The water itself seems to grow darker, absorbing the light around it. The air fills with the scent of old dust and ozone. The character then pricks their finger, allowing a single drop of blood to fall into the infusion. This final component acts as a psychic anchor, binding the impending vision to the user’s consciousness. The drop of blood sizzles as it hits the water, and for a moment, the swirling glyphs glow with a soft, crimson light before fading.

To complete the ritual, the character lifts the bowl with both hands, takes a deep breath to center themselves, and drinks the entire infusion. The roleplay here is internal. The magic washes over their senses not as a physical force, but as a psychic plunge. The world around them dissolves into a grey mist, and they feel a sensation of being pulled backward through a tunnel of memory. What follows is not a clear movie of the past, but a chaotic, sensory-rich fragment: the deafening roar of a charging beast, the glint of sun on a forgotten soldier’s helm, the overwhelming feeling of despair as a castle wall crumbles, the taste of ash in the air. The vision lasts only a few moments before the character is thrust back into their own body, gasping, with the lingering emotions and sensory ghosts of the past clinging to them.

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Dust of Attestation-45

A complex alchemical powder created to imbue a mundane object with a psychic echo of its immediate surroundings, allowing it to be “read” by those with the Mind’s Eye.

Ingredients:

• One Chronicleaf leaf, carefully dried within 12 hours of harvesting
• A pinch of powdered Scryer’s Crystal
• Three pinches of salt from a desiccated sea

Activation of Magic and Roleplay: This is an act of meticulous craftsmanship. The character must first carefully dry the Chronicleaf leaf over a low, magical heat source, a process that requires constant attention to prevent the temporal energy from dissipating. Once it is brittle, they place it into a mortar and pestle made of stone or bone.

The roleplay is in the deliberate, rhythmic grinding. With each turn of the pestle, the character must focus their will, not on destroying the leaf, but on transforming its essence. As they grind, they add the powdered Scryer’s Crystal to focus the temporal energy, and the ancient salt to bind it into a stable, physical form. The activation of magic is subtle. A low, vibrational hum emanates from the mortar. The air shimmers faintly above the bowl, and the resulting powder—a fine, teal-colored dust—seems to absorb and deaden sound around it. The character is not just crushing an herb; they are weaving its magical properties into a new substance.

To use the dust, the character takes a pinch and carefully sprinkles it over an inanimate object they wish to question—a rusted sword, a crumbling tome, a locked door. As the dust settles, the magic activates fully. Each mote of dust flashes with a silvery light for an instant before becoming inert. A psychic “imprint” of a key historical moment related to that location is now bound to the object. A character using their Mind’s Eye on the object will now not only see its physical stats but also receive a single, clear, static image from the past—the face of the person who last held the sword, the sigil on the cover of the tome when it was new, or the key that last turned in the lock.

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Phantasmagoria Incense-209

A volatile and dangerous mixture that, when burned, does not grant a vision to the user, but instead projects fragmented images of the past into the physical space as disorienting, ghostly apparitions.

Ingredients:

• One fresh, macerated Chronicleaf leaf
• A handful of dried, powdered Gloomwood resin (a highly combustible substance)
• A shard of a thunder-struck crystal

Activation of Magic and Roleplay: This is a desperate, often tactical, use of Chronicleaf. The character would typically prepare this in a small, throwable packet made of leather or thick cloth. The process is rushed and imprecise. They mash the fresh leaf into a pulp, mixing it with the dark, gritty Gloomwood resin. The final component is the thunder-struck crystal shard, which acts as the igniter and catalyst, holding a charge of raw, chaotic energy.

The magic activates upon a sharp impact. The roleplaying character would throw the packet against a hard surface—a dungeon wall, a cobblestone street, an armored foe. The force of the impact causes the crystal shard to release its stored energy into the volatile resin. The packet doesn’t explode with fire, but with temporal force. A loud CRACK like breaking stone echoes, followed by a rush of cold air.

From the impact point, a thick, teal-colored smoke billows out rapidly, reeking of ozone and damp earth. Within the smoke, the magic of the Chronicleaf manifests violently. Ghostly, translucent figures flicker into existence—not solid, but made of shimmering smoke and distorted light. These are not controllable apparitions; they are echoes of beings who experienced intense emotions in that place. Soldiers reenact the final moments of a forgotten battle, spectral nobles argue silently, or a terrifying beast from a bygone age lunges and dissipates. They make no sound, but the psychic noise is immense. The effect is chaotic and disorienting to all who see it, friend and foe alike, creating a powerful diversion or a terrifying illusion for a brief, crucial minute before the smoke and the ghosts within it fade into nothing.