The name 'Arrowstone' isn't a simple descriptor. It’s a resonance, a vibration within the geological record. For millennia, the people of the Obsidian Peaks – a now-vanished civilization – referred to it as 'K’tharr’a’th,’ meaning ‘The Memory Stone.’ They believed Arrowstone wasn’t merely a type of quartzite, but a conduit, a focal point for temporal echoes. Each shard, each vein, held a fragment of the past – not as a perfect replay, but as a shimmering distortion, a feeling, a trace of the events that had transpired upon its surface. The Obsidian Peaks themselves were, according to their myths, formed by the solidified grief of a forgotten god, and Arrowstone was the key to unlocking that sorrow.
The K’tharr’a’th were masters of ‘Chronometric Resonance,’ a practice lost to time. They theorized that geological formations, particularly those composed of exceptionally pure and dense materials like Arrowstone, naturally accumulate temporal stress – the weight of moments lived and lost. These weren't ghosts, exactly, but psychic imprints, layered like sediment. A skilled practitioner, utilizing a complex system of quartz tools and focused meditation, could ‘read’ these imprints, experiencing flashes of the past, understanding the motivations of long-dead individuals, and even, on rare occasions, altering the flow of time – though only in the most infinitesimal ways.
The core of the K’tharr’a’th practice revolved around the manipulation of ‘Chronal Fields’ – invisible areas of concentrated temporal energy. Arrowstone, due to its crystalline structure and inherent density, acted as an amplifier, drawing in these fields and allowing them to be channeled. The process involved several stages: first, the identification of an Arrowstone specimen exhibiting a particularly strong ‘resonance signature’ – a subtle shift in color, a faint hum detectable only through specialized instruments (crafted from obsidian and bone, of course). Then, the practitioner would meticulously clean the stone, removing any surface contaminants, and begin a period of prolonged meditation, entering a state of ‘Temporal Sync.’
During Temporal Sync, the practitioner’s consciousness would begin to bleed into the Chronal Field surrounding the Arrowstone. It wasn’t a passive experience; they actively shaped the field, attempting to ‘focus’ on a specific event or individual. This required immense concentration, a profound understanding of the past, and a willingness to risk becoming lost within the echoes themselves. Failed attempts resulted in disorientation, headaches, and, in extreme cases, complete temporal fragmentation – the practitioner dissolving entirely into the Chronal Field.
The city of Veridian, the heart of the K’tharr’a’th civilization, was built around a massive vein of Arrowstone, known as ‘The Serpent’s Eye.’ It wasn't a city of gleaming towers and bustling markets; it was a labyrinth of subterranean chambers, carved directly into the rock, filled with intricate geometric patterns and resonating chambers. The architecture itself was designed to amplify and channel the temporal energies of the Arrowstone, creating a city that hummed with the echoes of the past. Legends say that Veridian vanished overnight, swallowed by a sudden shift in the Chronal Field – a consequence of the K’tharr’a’th pushing the boundaries of their abilities.
Archaeological surveys have yielded tantalizing fragments – perfectly preserved tools, intricate diagrams depicting Chronometric Resonance techniques, and, most notably, ‘Chronal Echoes’ – brief, fragmented visions experienced by researchers who have come into contact with Arrowstone fragments. These echoes are notoriously unreliable, often depicting distorted versions of events or offering only glimpses of the past. One recurring echo describes a massive, serpentine creature made of pure light, guarding the Serpent’s Eye. The K’tharr’a’th believed this was the embodiment of temporal chaos, a force they constantly sought to contain.