Last of the Order
Your monastery is a smoking ruin three months behind you. You came down the mountain on an errand. You've been walking west ever since.
You stop. Your weight settles into your heels. The first move was always the hardest part — once you've stopped, no one can find your line. When the first strike comes, it lands on bone.
Your Story
You are [name], and you were given to the Stoneglass Hall — a small monastic order in the foothills of [mountains] — at three days old. You don't remember being a child anywhere else. Rice, mountain water, the wooden staff, and the discipline of the polished obsidian disc were the shape of every morning of your life until you were twenty-six.
You came down the mountain on an errand. A calligraphic commission for a town reeve, three days' walk away. You took your time. You stopped at a roadside shrine. You copied beautifully. You came back, three weeks later, to ash. Every brother and sister dead. The library burned. The wooden gate kicked in.
You found a single charred wax seal in the doorway — seven points and an open eye, a sigil you had no way of recognizing. You've been walking west for ninety days. You don't talk much. You copy out names at night from memory — there are six, you can recall four with confidence. You sleep four hours and meditate the rest.
If filling in the blanks feels like homework, just play this version. Andreas will mail you a finished sheet.
Tashen, of the Stoneglass Order
Given to the Stoneglass Hall in the foothills of the Yehimal Mountains at three days old. Raised on rice, mountain water, the wooden staff, and the discipline of the polished obsidian disc. At twenty-six, was sent down the mountain on a routine calligraphy errand — and came back, three weeks later, to ash. Every brother and sister dead. The library burned. A single charred wax seal in the doorway with seven points and an open eye that Tashen had no way of recognizing. They've been walking west for ninety days. They've copied out four of the six names from memory.
Hero prop a small polished obsidian meditation disc on a hempen cord — the Stoneglass Order's namesake artifact. Held to firelight at the right angle, there's a faint impression in the center. Tashen has not yet noticed.
The polished obsidian disc your order took its name from has always been in your pocket. Lately, when you hold it to firelight at a low angle, there's something in the center. A pattern. You don't remember it being there before. It looks familiar.
Click below to draft Andreas an email — you can edit it before you send, or just skip the fields you're not sure about and we'll fill them in together.
This one is me →A week before we play, a letter will arrive at your house. Open it alone. Do not compare notes with the others until you reach the Trade Way.