Mordulon-Fall of the Crimson Throne
A mysterious construct seeking knowledge
A massive metal construct. Created of a brown, ribbon metal. The ribbons weave and bend to form the body of a humanoid. They move and flex to simulate muscle. Acolyte has no discernable face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze upon you. He wears pristine white robes with the hood perpetually raised, shrouding his face. Tattoos ebb and glow with mood, intricate markings of a northern order of monks.
I woke up at the base of a tall cliff. The cliff appeared so high as to be ethereal in the low hanging clouds. Memories attempt to flicker to life, but all I can recall is walking with my brotherhood.
Did I fall? Was I cast off the treacherous pathway? I cannot remember. I have distant memories of a monastery, of being trained, and being taught.
My body is of strange, weaving metal. It serves as a body but I have no unnatural control over it. A partially scattered pack lays nearby. I find inside ingots of raw ore, which I instinctually place within my chest cavity. The heat within feels comforting.
I wander for a number of days. I cannot find a way back to the path. The mountain is massive and I’m not sure how far I fell. Eventually a traveling caravan of dwarves find me. They are intimidated at first, thinking me some eldritch evil. I ask for ore, and in a tense moment they allow me to stoke my inner fire.
I travel with them for a time. I learn the dwarven language quickly. They teach me of the countryside, some nearby cities, and bits of history. They seem to keep to themselves and don’t travel far and wide. The answers I find are limited.
I learn of a hidden Order. The Order of the Bronze Key. I find the information fascinating. I may seek them out eventually.
We make our way to a small town called Antimor. The caravan moves on wishing me the best. I am not allowed to return to their dwarven home. I will likely head north to find the hidden monk monasteries, and perhaps they will know more of who I am, and what I should do.