{
	"id": 15044,
	"rarityList": [
		4,
		5
	],
	"name": "A Day Carved From Rising Winds",
	"effect2Pc": "ATK +18%.",
	"effect4Pc": "After a Normal Attack, Charged Attack, Elemental Skill, or Elemental Burst hits an opponent, gain the Blessing of Pastoral Winds effect for 6s: ATK is increased by 25%. If the equipping character has completed Witch's Homework, Blessing of Pastoral Winds will be upgraded to Resolve of Pastoral Winds, which additionally increases the CRIT Rate of the equipping character by 20%. This effect can be triggered even when the character is off-field.",
	"flower": {
		"name": "Windborne Flower's Spruchdichtung",
		"relicType": "EQUIP_BRACER",
		"relicText": "Flower of Life",
		"description": "An azure crystal bloom that never withers, said to have once belonged, in ages past, to a wandering girl who invoked the thousand winds and countless flowers.",
		"story": "\"In the name of Gunnhildr's clan head, I hereby pledge allegiance to the newborn god.\"\n\"We once wandered through knife-like north winds, enduring grievances as cold as burial shrouds.\"\n\"Our homeland has long been buried in a dead, silver silence, and our old customs have faded into desolate ruins.\"\n\"But, like flowers forged by fierce winds, our spines shall never bend.\"\n\"We shall never betray friendship in days of bitter darkness, and we shall never forget the oath written in blood.\"\n\n\"In the name of Gunnhildr's clan head, I hereby pledge allegiance to the newborn god.\"\n\"We shall not, like the Gotini clan, proffer songbirds wrought from pure gold.\"\n\"Nor shall we, like the Hlaewringi clan, pledge glorious deeds of war to the wind.\"\n\"Unlike the Bructeri, who raise sacred halls, or the Sitones, who present exquisite verses,\"\n\"We lay before the wind nothing but blossoms, ardent hearts, and a sincerity that shall never fade.\"\n\n\"In the name of Gunnhildr's clan head, I hereby pledge allegiance to the newborn god.\"\n\"We have stood against fierce gales and fought shoulder to shoulder with divinity atop the tower.\"\n\"We have seen the tender breeze as well. After the gloom, we are reborn beneath the spring sun.\"\n\"Should the winds one day rage anew, and a tyrant seek to torment mortals again,\"\n\"We shall not hesitate to stain the bright blossoms with blood, even if it means turning our backs on the divine throne once more.\"\n\"If the winds remain ever gentle, and the heavens look kindly upon our realm,\"\n\"We shall guard the song of Mondstadt without faltering, as the new winds once bestowed upon us their sheltering grace.\"\n\n\"In the name of Great Arcadia's descendants, thus do we crown the newborn god with the thousand winds.\"\n\"May your words be as those of our former lady, until the faith of all beings becomes one with poetry.\"\n\"May your deeds be as those of our former lady, until our former lady acts as you do.\""
	},
	"plume": {
		"name": "Dawn's Brilliant Oath",
		"relicType": "EQUIP_NECKLACE",
		"relicText": "Plume of Death",
		"description": "A feather accessory of azure, clear as the dawn, said to have once belonged to a guard who cast aside his name in ages past.",
		"story": "That was a barren age of old, a time when the pale dawn had yet to pierce the cold night.\nThe warrior clad in iron had never beheld the open sky. Sharp winds held aloof the frozen heavens above.\nWarriors were meant to obey their charge. To smother, in their very cradles, those rebels skulking in darkened alleys, those who dared shake the towering spire.\nYet at the songs that flowed from the strings of that young bard's lyre, the warrior laid down sword and blade.\n\nNot by tongues of treason beguiled, nor by promises of illusion swayed,\nThe warrior yielded only to the caged bird's yearning for the sky, a hunger writ in the blood of every living creature.\nBe they paupers, bowed by bitter winds and clinging to the side of the boy,\nOr the maiden, wandering through pallid plains, calling upon a thousand winds and blossoms;\nBe they a small sprite of the wind, heart stirred by the boy's music,\nOr soldiers going no less hungry than those they were bid to subdue;\nBe they old bards bereft of their eyes, or wandering craftsmen shorn of their hands,\nOr sick and ailing souls, countless in number, their names lost to the wild winds' howl;\nAll alike, steeped in that song, gentle as the morning breeze, warm as dawn light seeping into cold nights,\nWould lift their eyes as one and gaze upon the sky, still far above.\nEven she, the God King's most favored confidant, that taciturn, iron-cold huntress, grim of tongue yet true of heart...\nSurely, 'twas but by duress of her erstwhile master that her fair hands were stained with innocent blood.\nFor how else might a clutch of soft-spoken words have turned her away from the tyrant, and set her feet upon the path of those who stood against him?\nThough ineloquent by nature, she too must have longed, like her companions, for a gentler dawn to come...\n\nAnd so the silent warrior cast aside both duty and name, weaving her snare from within the shadows,\nGathering, for the boy who sang of morning, the winds scattered across the long night, until at last they rose to blow against the towering gale-wale.\n\n\"Let the nameless flowers kiss away your tears, and grieve not for the parting that tomorrow brings.\"\n\"Until the breath of dawn erases my name, and reveals for you the light that is true.\""
	},
	"sands": {
		"name": "A Note in Spring's Leich",
		"relicType": "EQUIP_SHOES",
		"relicText": "Sands of Eon",
		"description": "An hourglass filled with azure sand. For reasons unknown, no matter how it is turned, the grains within it refuse to stir.",
		"story": "\"Iron blades fail to slash it, nor can imprisonment of stones confine it.\"\n\"The wind has no fear of the future, but constantly flows in its direction.\"\n\"O sorrowful tyrant, no matter how much blood stains your hands,\"\n\"As long as the wind still blows, you shall not claim the freedom of song.\"\n\nAs the tempest raged before the crumbling divine throne, the frail youth strummed the strings of his lyre for the final time.\nThe melody, once only played in the shadows of dark alleys, whispering courage to the downtrodden,\nWas now tempered by weary years of strife. It was forged into a roaring defiance of the many, a tempest that no storm could rend asunder.\n\nIf mortal flesh could not transcend the seat of gods, if the song of \"this moment\" could not stay the hand of calamity,\nThen let the desires of countless such \"moments\" merge with the yearning for liberty that echoes through unnumbered ages.\nLet the bone-chilling hatred of a single instant be diffused into the long span of Time, as petals adrift upon the breeze.\n\nIn a single, extraordinary moment, the youth, whose very body became the instrument, strummed strings that once belonged solely to the Master of Time.\nEven the Mother of the Thousand Winds was stunned, her eyes falling briefly upon the desolate northern lands.\nThat violent, fleeting storm transformed into a thousand-year-long poem of wind and hue,\nInto breezes caressing clear springs and fragrant fruit wines, into the distant songs of pines and pastoral melodies across viridescent fields.\nIt became the sword that pierced both royal blood and the venomous dragon, it became the solemn vows of old, and the sighs of lovers.\nAt the break of dawn, the symphony of a thousand years began its first note.\nIts name is Mondstadt, and all who hold freedom in their hearts are its musicians.\n\nBut the flesh and blood of the first to strike the strings could not carry the weight of a nation's song.\nThe great symphony, summoning the usurped power of time, poured a moment's burning fury into a thousand-year instant.\nThe bard's body fell with the collapsing tower, and the name that ought to have endured was swept away by the winds of time.\nLike frail snows melting upon the breath of spring, it was lost beyond recall of both memory and voice.\nOnly that tiny wind spirit, on the day when the Mother of Time and Wind bestowed her authority,\nClaimed silently a strand of time from bygone days, along with the name that even the reversal of years could not save.\n\n\"My dear friend, take now this breeze of a thousand years, and with it, a yearning for joy, and dreams of liberty.\"\n\"Do not grieve for me. While the winds still blow, folk shall sing as I once did, of their hope for tomorrow.\""
	},
	"goblet": {
		"name": "Heldenepos's Unspoken Tale",
		"relicType": "EQUIP_RING",
		"relicText": "Goblet of Eonothem",
		"description": "An ancient goblet, its azure surface weathered by time. It is rumored to have belonged to an unnamed bard in ages past.",
		"story": "That was a barren age of old, a past when gentle spring winds had yet to melt ice and snow.\nCups of azure had never held sweet wine; naught but bitter songs flowed from mortal lips.\n\nThe taciturn archer loosed the last arrow at the tyrant, spilling her lifeblood to pierce the unyielding wind-wall.\nThe chorus of defiance swelled, and the breeze surged into a tempestuous tide, striking deep into the heart of the lone king.\nThus should have ended the rebellion of mortals against gods, for the Lord of the Storm was cast down from his high tower.\nYet, before the heroes breaking free from their bonds could mourn their fallen comrades,\nA wild storm gathered, fraught with malice to engulf all who were granted a new life.\n\nThat was the final lament of the tyrant — forsaken by all, his delusions unmade — amidst the wreckage of his throne.\nEven the frailest of gods, clinging to resentment as their end nears, can topple the mightiest strongholds wrought by mortal hands.\nLet alone the God King himself, whose might could sever frost and snow, cleave mountains asunder with winds of wrath, and fell drakes with a single arrow.\nThose who had poured every ounce of their strength into the strife of godslaying could now no longer stay the unforeseen woe.\nThe hope newly kindled upon the ruins seemed destined to be devoured by the wrathful storm, ushering in utter desolation.\n\nAt the very instant when roaring annihilation was about to strike, what came into view of the sprite, the knight, and all beneath the tower...\n...Was the boy, frail of form and unskilled in war. He strode into the raging wind while his fingers danced upon the strings of his lyre.\n\nNever before has any song revealed the hidden secret of that hour, nor has any poem probed its truth.\nThe wind, which had teeth to rend the very bones of the earth, fell abruptly silent. Later devotees would call it a miracle.\nNone but the exalted God of Songs knows the words inscribed before the dawn..."
	},
	"circlet": {
		"name": "Minnesang of Love and Lament",
		"relicType": "EQUIP_DRESS",
		"relicText": "Circlet of Logos",
		"description": "A luxurious hair accessory adorned with jade and azure crystals, said to have once been a token bestowed by the Lord of Storm upon a favored recipient in ages past.",
		"story": "Blood-red wine gleamed in golden cups, water-hued jade lay upon pale braids.\nBare feet no longer treaded slivers of silver snow; only slivered silver fell about her feet like snow.\nBeneath the shadow of the towering spire, amidst a prison of delusive enchantment, the huntress believed herself cherished by a tyrant.\nConsider the wandering craftsman who proffered to her a mechanical singing bird of pure gold, begging only for his life.\nBoth his hands were shorn by her King's cold, sharp wind, lest such a toy ever be made again for another's delight.\n\nWhen the bloodline, steeped in ancient ignorance, bowed down to the wrathful wind, offering her like a sacrifice to the king of the spire,\nThe huntress, who once roosted with owls on withered boughs and danced with hawks across the plains,\nKnew not that the Lord of Wind, feared by all, would elevate her to the place of favored counsel, so skilled was she with the bow.\nBefore she met her king, she knew not the tenderness of love, nor the searing sting of hate.\nBefore she met her king, no human heart had ever stirred the huntress treading the plains.\n\nIf there are those born with dreams of kindness and liberty, yearning to cleave the wind-wrought wall of desolation with their song,\nAnd if even gods may be ensnared by their own delusion and conceit, doomed to drown in the barren dream called eternity,\nThen there are those, born wanting, only able to fill their hollow hearts with blind devotion.\n\n\"My beloved master... Save you, none have shown me gentle dreams.\"\n\"Neither the kiss of waves upon sand, nor greenwood's embrace of verdant earth.\"\n\nThe fierce wind never reflected the suffering of cowering ants,\nAnd she beheld none but the lonely figure of the God King.\nFor her master and savior, who taught her the meaning of love,\nIt was fitting that those fearful, loathing eyes were quenched.\n\nHowever—\n\nIt mattered not the victories she offered to her king,\nHow many throats she pierced in his dungeons,\nHow many rebel villages lay in ruins,\nHow many times whispers were gently spoken in his ear...\nThe king, enthroned atop the spire, crowned by the fierce wind,\nWho scorned, oppressed, and indulged each of his subjects,\nNever poured upon her the love he spoke of.\nNever was he miserly in the love given to the commoners —\nThat fierce wind that could tear mortal flesh.\n\nAwoken from blind devotion, she realized she was the only one who spoke with sincerity.\nFrom the first meeting, and all the days between,\nHer likeness was never mirrored in the depths of his eyes.\n\nYes, yes, if even dances offered beneath the veil of wind and gentle whispers could not earn her a moment of his gaze,\nIf all bloodied glory and the delight of slaughter could not make him look only upon her...\n\nThen let his gaze linger forever upon the moment her image was seared into it.\nThis she could grasp, the sole treasure worthy of repaying the King's love.\nThis alone, of all that he had shown, might rightly be named as love indeed.\nFor he spoke of love, but was only accompanied by razor winds.\n\n\"My beloved master... Save you, my heart shall love no other.\"\n\"So I beg you — look only upon me, none but me.\"\n\n— Thus spoke one, a mortal knowing naught of love, to a god who could not know it.\nEven in the moment they tore each other apart, neither had ever truly known the other's heart."
	}
}