Would you believe me if I told you that I barely know what I’m doing?
I didn’t think so. I couldn’t do my job if I didn’t balance the right spell while making fine adjustments on my growing inventory of devices. The newest tool I’ve been learning to upkeep since receiving one from my professor, the rune arm, is particularly challenging to keep working without blowing up in my face.
The professor doesn’t have to cut me a break, but he does. He’s used to teaching humans on the ways of House Cannith, home of the arch-craftsmen of Ebberon. I’m just an orphaned Drow lucky enough not to be wolf food years ago.
I hear a metallic creak at my feet. Syracuse, my pet defender, looks up at me. He’s a smart dog. I pick up a small metal cog and fling across the workshop–a bit too hard. It sails…
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