The next few weeks will be an exercise in patience—a skill Erik thought he possessed in abundance, but tinkering has proven otherwise. The tools are deceptively simple in appearance, yet their application demands precision he hadn’t expected. His fingers, more accustomed to weaving intricate arcane gestures, struggled at first with the finesse required for mechanical work.   There was one particular challenge that nearly derailed his efforts: an attempt to assemble a simple clockwork mechanism. He infused it with a minor spell to speed the process—an ill-considered shortcut. The resulting miniature explosion was... illuminating, if not entirely productive. It took days to restore his workspace, not to mention his pride.   Still, progress has been made. His instructor, a gnome named Gilrindle, assured him that he had the makings of a skilled tinkerer, though he often reminds Erik that “magic has no place in the purity of craft.” Erik suspects he enjoys chiding him more than necessary.   These five weeks will definitely teach Erik more than the use of tools. They will remind him that power lies not just in grand displays of arcane might, but also in the quiet precision of craftsmanship. Who knows? Perhaps one day he will create something that merges the two seamlessly. For now, he can celebrate the small victories—like finally getting that clockwork mouse to scurry across the table without detonating.   As Erik left the tinkerer's shop, mimicking the movement of tools in his hands trying to remember that last bit of advice Gilrindle had given him, there was a sharp sting at the back of his head.....then everything went black. Coming in and out of consciousness sometime later, Erik heard a muffled voice of the men who worked quickly to disrobe him of all but the basic of clothing. His eyes fluttered open and a dry mouth started to speak. "Hey.. it's not time for you to wake up yet!" The man who stood over him said gruffly. Erik was about to try and speak once more but the familiar pain to the back of his skull silenced him once again. Coming to hours later, Erik lay on a cold stone flood. Blood matted his hair, and a nice lump added an odd look to his head. He couldn't see anything. He called out but no one called back to him.