Charles Gudheart – Prelude 1

The Master had been obsessed with the Companion. He called the small sun an abomination. He would curse it, every waking hour. The Master’s undead flesh burned under the celestial light, but worse, his magic would fail when exposed to the brightness. Almost a century living below the surface, cowering from the holy light had turned the Master into a hateful, wretched thing, but his magic was still strong and he had taken Charles as an apprentice.

The Master had dug chambers below the City, back before the Companion was in the sky. Here, the old wizard experimented, researched, and plotted against the light. When the priests of Torm discovered him below the city, they dragged the Master to the surface and watched him burn. They held their heads high as the Master turned to charcoal in the light.

Charles felt little pity. The Master was a true creature of darkness and Charles was little more than a slave to the foul man. But Charles had so much more to learn from him. Charles did not grieve for the Master but he wept as the priests sacked their hidden treasures. Priceless magics, tomes, and scrolls, that should belong to Charles were spirited away. Stolen by the priests of Torm 

Then that damn priest had Charles by the throat. “Your master is dead young one.” the priest said softly “I will let you live as an act of mercy. But be warned, if you return to this City, your life will be forfeit.”

So Charles ran. He ran to Baldur’s Gate and spent time studying his master’s spellbook. Teaching himself how to master the weave. Making a name for himself as a wizard for hire in the dark alleyways of the sinful city. When he felt he was ready he returned to Elturel to track down his Master’s old possessions…and one artifact of great power.

Charles ducked down a narrow alley and tried to move into shadow, but shadows are scarce in Elturel. The Companion’s celestial light shines constantly. This is a city that has not seen night fall for almost a century. Charles pulls his hood around his face tighter.

He doesn’t hide from the light. Light or dark is all the same to him. And unlike his old master, Charles is not harmed by the sun…or the light of the Companion. Charles doesn’t hide from the light; instead he hides from those who might recognize him. If the priests recognized him, they would probably kill him.

Weaving his way through the City, he finally came to his destination. The cemetery, specifically a small squat building with a single door, a tomb. Inside was the man who stole Master’s artifacts all those years ago. He died of a pox last month, but the body might still be fresh enough to provide valuable information. Charles patted the scroll in his pocket. A spell of Speak with the Dead. The corpse would tell him the location of the artifact. Soon he would have it.

Charles unlatched the door, walked into the tomb, and sprung the trap.