Gold Foil EPIC in Gold League : THANE NEWSONG in Splinterlands
Thane Newsong stands as a remarkable figure in the enchanted lands of the Pristine Northwest, a cyclops whose musical prowess surpasses all others. As a revered Master Bard in the illustrious Sonnet of Silence, Thane not only possesses the ability to channel mana through his music but also commands profound magical might. Enthusiasts embark on arduous journeys spanning hundreds of miles to bask in the ethereal melodies that flow from Thane's performance, their hearts captivated by his enchanting tales that effortlessly enthrall audiences for hours on end.
Yet Thane's extraordinary gifts extend far beyond his musical virtuosity. With an innate disposition for leadership and instruction, he stands as a beacon of wisdom within the realms of the Sonnet of Silence, renowned for his unparalleled scholarship. Unyielding in the face of formidable warriors and even entire armies, Thane has emerged triumphant, his legendary status echoing throughout the land, perpetuated by awe-struck whispers.
Rumor has it that the lute he carries, a cherished artifact, is crafted from a humble branch of the Ancient Redwood—a treasured relic and a testament to the enduring bond between friends, resonating with the essence of the Elder Tree's magic. It is said that Thane, while joyously serenading the world with one of the most resplendent sonnets ever heard, meticulously fashioned the instrument with his own hands. Thus, his music wields an even mightier enchantment, infused with the profound power bestowed upon it by the mystic bond between creator and wood.
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QUEST REWARD GOLD FOIL
Standing defiantly before Thane, the Chaos Legionnaires formed an imposing barrier, their presence an insurmountable obstacle. A dozen warriors, renowned for wielding their formidable two-handed swords, stood in his path, their purpose for venturing into these remote mountain trails shrouded in mystery.
Thane's gaze swept across their faceless helms, his solitary eye widening in astonishment before a blink of comprehension. "So, I am your enemy?" he queried, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
A legionnaire, raising a sword with ominous intent, responded coldly, "Anyone who defies the Legion becomes our foe. You have a choice: yield and accompany us or meet your demise."
A faint chuckle escaped Thane's lips as he slung his lute from his shoulder. "If we are to be adversaries, there is a tale you must hear before we proceed."
And thus, Thane began to play.
As the ethereal melodies wafted through the crisp mountain air, the legionnaires attempted to advance, but an invisible force rooted their feet to the ground. The arid earth clung to their heavy greaves, impeding their progress.
Then, Thane unleashed his voice in song.
Though the legionnaires unleashed hollow cries in response, their futile protests were drowned out by Thane's resonant baritone. Each magical word cascaded forth, compressing their armor with relentless force, until rivulets of blood trickled from the strained crevices. The chorus of agony harmonized with Thane's melody, and one by one, the warriors succumbed, collapsing to the earth in silent embrace with death.
With the final legionnaire's demise, Thane ceased his song, his lone eye surveying the aftermath of the carnage his music had wrought. "It is the sonnet of death itself," he murmured, his voice heavy with solemnity, "the last melody you shall ever hear in this mortal coil."
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