“Arise Warrior, your duty remains yet unfulfilled.”
The world is covered in an inky darkness, your body lies frozen and numb unresponsive to your mental commands. You try to remember how you got there which soon begets the question of who you are. You strain your thinking capacity but your memories are clouded and it chill in your body appears to be spreading to your mind as well. Just as you begin drifting off into the eternal oblivion you are suddenly roused by a loud cacophonous noise. Once, twice, three times, it begins beating in regular intervals. It is lound like the sound of an anvil, with each strike it’s volume increases in intensity. Soon the noise is filling your every thought, your head is throbbing and feel aflame. Fire! What a wonderful sensation from the detestable cold. The noise hits its climax and your body reacts insync to it, your body arches upward and a slow warmth begins to spread throughout your body, the beating noise begins to die down and you soon realize it is the sound of your own heart. You open your eyes for what feels like the first time, there is no sun above to blind you, instead you gaze meets a ceiling of unshaped stone, the walls are bathed in a red light from a nearby heat source. A voice calls out to you, “Welcome back chosen one.”
[INSERT ROLEPLAYING INTERMISSION]
They bring you down to the forges to show you the remnants of your armor. The air is hot and dry and beads of perspiration begin to form on your brow, it’s a very familiar feeling. They take you to one of the work benches which has the scraps of your former armor laying on it. It has an intriguing look, it’s obviously homemade and while it lacks an experts quality it makes up for it with the stylized look of an individuals masterpiece. Looking at it you get a sense of pride welling up in your chest and concern as you examine the numerous holes that had punched through the armor. From the look of things the last wearer of this armor should be sporting a gargantuan hole where his heart should be. You feel a tugging at your mind as a memory begins to overtake you. You see a strange machine through the visor of your helmet, you hear the din of battle in the background and a slowly increasing high pitch shrill coming out the machine. You bring your shield up high and strike down at the machine. The machine begins to spark and smoke and you take a step backwards readying yourself for it’s imminent explosion. Out of the corner of your eye you see a woman lying facedown on the floor dangerously close to the machine. As the machine explodes you dive towards the woman hoping to cover her with your armored body. You feel a sudden pain in your chest then suddenly everything goes numb. Your world begins to turn black as the room is bathed in light.
The man with the moon face has an assistant bring materials over to you as you stand staring at what must have been your old armor. He says, “You should know what to do with these, feel free to make use of any of our tools and if you have any questions my assistant here will be glad to help you.” You survey the ore brought to you, there appear to be two types, a dull grey ore and an inky blade ore. The dull grey ore is firmly attached to the other ore and you determine it to be lodestone, a magnetic ore. As you study the other you feel a sense of marvel as you recognize the black ore as Adamanatite, an ore with fantastic properties that few had ever seen. Then it hits you, this is not just any cavern you are in. Adamantite can only be mined from the center of the world, deep underneath the Mountain that Reaches the Heavens. You are in the underdark, where dark elves roam, homonculi are bred, dwarves build their reclusive kingdoms and fire giants man their gigantic forges. It is a startling revelation but there is nothing you can do about it for now, you feel the best course of action would be to construct an armor that will keep you impervious to the underground dangers.
You pick up the nearest hammer, it feels awkward in your grasp, you have a tiny flashback of you from the past packing your gear into your backpack, among them are your personal tools. You ask the assistant for the location of your other belongings and he mentions that they were sent to the incinerator not long ago. You race down into the depths hoping to get there in time. You run for a long time and instead of getting winded you feel a growing tingling sensation in your chest and an inner warmth spreading through your body. No time to ponder it now as you feel the scorching heat of the incinerator at the end of this passageway. It seems you may have gotten there too late, the workers are tossing the last of your belongings into the incinerator. You smell burnt parchment and smoldering metals. The workers are crowded around one last object, it appears they have not yet torched your smithing hammer. One of them tries to touches it but his hand burns immediately as he does so. The hammer appears to have taken on a golden hue and is emitting a soft radiance. You brush aside the workers and pick up your hammer, it would appear the blinding light in your memory may have imbued your hammer with some of the same properties. You have heard tale of the master smiths being able to work light into the holy armor of templars, it is said they use platinum metal as a base. Being such an expensive material you imagine it would be hard to find around here, they something tugs at the back of your mind. The woman you protected with your life was wearing a silvery chainmail, it have just been platinum. You set out to find her.