Eberron The Chronicle Of The Last Prophecy

By the fire

Book settled with his back at a tall fir, his hammer on the ground by his right side. The sheltered fire was burning low, there was no wind and the hoot of an owl scared the rodents and other small animals to stillness. The rest of the band were covered in their bedrolls, snoring softly. He enjoyed times of lonely quiet like this one, times of reflection and remembrance. He took out of his backpack a book, a quill and an inkpot and opened the book on the first page. Although he had read many books, he had never owned one before, there was never need. In truth he didn’t need a book now either. It was the name given him by Kronos that sparked the idea in his mind-matrix, why not leave a record for posterity? A charming idea and a novel endavour.
  A record of what though? Surely the apprentice’s jokes shouldn’t be written down, that was a scary thought. Recipes perhaps? He was fascinated by the eating and drinking habits of men of flesh throughout his life and there was so much variation to be found. It didn’t strike him as an interesting enough subject however. He could fill it with the myriad mysteries and unanswered questions that plagued him ever since the Day of Mourning and his awakening 4 years later. That would serve no useful purpose however.
It took him some time to decide on an interesting subject matter but decide he did. Book dipped the quill in the inkpot and wrote in ornate, precise script that would be the envy of many a professional scribe in the years to come the words, ‘A Chronicle of Eberron’



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