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It wasn’t until she completed her survey that she realized the ruin she had exited from had completely vanished. She glanced down at her arms wide eyed, checking the tattoos. Still there, no ruins. She prowled the area, circling the beehives, tombs maybe. That fog must have addled her mind…She turned a corner and nearly shrieked at the sight of a dusty skeleton slumped against one of the tombs. A simple campfire filled with old charcoal sat at the corpse’s feet, a battered book clutched in its hands.
The student reached out and gingerly pried the book loose, brushing a layer of dust from it. The title in silver read “A Student of Magic.” She flipped it open carefully, thumbing through pages of meditation exercises, runic circles, potion designs, wands and detailed information on enunciation of ‘divine’ words. Her eyes flicked between the long dead fire and the setting sun, she would need light to see the words and fire to repel…whatever might lurk nearby.
She gingerly examined the corpse again, wincing as it crumbled to pieces under her touch. The ratty remains of a pack lay underneath it, alongside a pitiful heap of twigs and tinder. The contents of the pack were mostly trash, more fuel for the fire, but a fossilized crust of bread might still be edible, and by a stroke of luck a rusted tinderbox was present.
“Thanks for the camping trip dad.”
Ten minutes of fiddling with the tinderbox and a piece of soggy stale bread later the student sat a respectable distance from the heap of bones and flipped open the book. The first section, ‘Establishing Magical Power’ seemed a good place to start.
<span class="mu-s">Roll 1d100 BO3</span>
