Prologue

Year 1217

Growing up as a poor street rat in the City of Picarisweat, Sandar learned early on that the key to succeeding in life was diligent work in the betterment of oneself. Forsaking his peers in the most humble section of the city, with their whining and griping about their own victim-hood, Sandar began slowly and deliberately stealing an education from the most prominent university in the land. Having discovered forgotten and secret spy tunnels within the very walls of the university, Sandar attended lectures on every topic imaginable to discover the secrets of happiness and success.

One day, while he was attending a lecture on basic mechanical principles, Sandar noticed that the professor became increasingly distracted during his lecture, growing more and more intent on a small stack of papers on his desk that he’d discovered lost in the library earlier that day. His lecture finally dissipating into silence, the professor’s lips began moving in excitement as he read through the first several pages of the short document, “Gods, this technology is at least a century away, this is simple extraordinary.” The professor simply walked out on his shocked class, heading toward the housing area for the university. Intrigued by the prospect of new and valuable technology, Sandar used his familiarity with the secret tunnels of the university to move toward the professor’s rooms.

Sandar returned and watched, fascinated, as over several days the professor made drawing after drawing in his private housing, ideas that would take the realm into the next era of progress.

Finally, after having not seen the professor rest once over this time, the lecturer finally succumbed, passing out on the desk. Sandar, seizing his opportunity, crept in, taking the volume and the professor’s bag of notes before slipping back into the wall space and back out into the city.

Sandar was surprised to find that for him, the bag was the most interesting object gained from the encounter, opening into a nether-area into which several books had been placed. The volume that the lecturer had owned had changed in it’s transition of ownership from the professor to Sandar, now appearing as a small treatise on the operation of basic locks. The most interesting aspect was that the dedication of the volume was to Sandar himself. The book also referenced several other works by other authors with dates attributed to them. One date, oddly far in the future, included a location that Sandar knew of, a monastic cloister deep within the countryside and near to the lands of the dragonborn.

After moving into the library of the university to add several books of interest to the bag, Sandar then stole several days worth of supplies from the kitchens during the night and began his journey toward the cloister.

Upon arrival, Sandar met the monk shadowstrike, who, perceiving Sandar as a learned man, intent on the pursuit of knowledge agreed to assist him with his retrieval of the referenced volume.

Shadowstrike located the book titled “Gear Ratio’s and Power”, but the volume fell to the floor in his haste, inexplicably becoming a loose sheaf of paper’s entitled, “The Beholders and the cataclysm of 1219”. Oddly enough the document was dedicated to Shadowstrike himself and contained news of a disaster of a degree not seen since the creation of The Breaks far to the west. While shadowstrike looked in wonder at this document, Sandar found that his own document, Mayer’s Marvelous Mechanics, had changed slightly and a new area had appeared in the book, in a completely unfamiliar language.

Attempting to follow leads towards an effective translator for this section of the volume, Sandar and Shadowstrike arrange a meeting with a wizard on the outskirts of a small town named Sharbat.

On the way, they encounter a pair of dragonborn, who state they were roasting, but were definitely effectively incinerating a deer. The barbarian, Trogdor is on the run following an incident in which he punched his bandit-leader Gruel in the face, an insult that gruel cannot allow to stand. Trogdor seems to delight in starting fires and can simply sit still and watch a campfire burn for hours on end. He had met Arc’teryx, a wandering bard originally from deep within the human lands, who had traveled with his troupe for a great many years before departing on his own to witness or take part in legendary tales of his own.

Over the crispy/crunchy remains of the carbonized deer, which Sandar had exchanged a book for, the two groups agreed to continue on together, while Arc’teryx rocked out a magnificent kalimba solo.

Upon meeting the wizard for the translation, the group was asked to remain in the entry arch-way of his keep. The last thing the group can remember is a portcullis slamming down on either side of them and the wizard, livid, approaching with several skeletal warriors screaming, “The horrific tome shall be mine, you shall not have it”!

(Re-write soonish)

Needs: name for cloister.

Prologue

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