Prologue
In a quiet corner of Faerûn, nestled deep within the dense Yuirwood forest, lived an aging wizard named Eldran. The forest was named after the Yuir, an ancient race of star elves who once dwelled there. The ruins of their civilization dotted the woods, reminders of the great elven society that once dominated the Aglarondan peninsula. The most prominent ruins were the menhir circles, which served as portals to other parts of the Yuirwood, Toril and even locations beyond. Eldran was known among the locals of the nearby village as a sage who could commune with the spirits of nature and wielded powerful arcane spells to aid those in need. Despite his abilities, Eldran lived a simple life in a modest cottage that appeared to be nestled and one with a large ancient oak tree surrounded by the forest and whispering brooks.
For years, Eldran had used a certain secret portal hidden within the heart of the Yuirwood. It was a portal known only to him, a passage that connected his world to distant realms where he sought knowledge and rare magical artifacts. Each journey through the portal had been an adventure, and each return had brought new tales of wonders and dangers overcome.
One beautiful sunlit morning, having slept well and with a determined mind, Eldran decided it was time to make another journey through the portal. Another adventure. He knew the destination well and looked forward to seeing his friends on the other side. He sat down at his desk and dipping the quill into the ink jar, wrote a quick message to alert them he would be coming. He pulled a length of Recall Ribbon from a drawer and tied it around the scrolled parchment into a neat bow. Instantly it vanished in a little cloud of magical light that sprinkled upon the worn, oak desktop and was gone. The message was sent.
The villagers bid him a happy farewell with respect as they always did, for they knew that once he stepped through the portal, there was no telling how long he would be gone. Sometimes it was mere days, sometimes it was months. But he always returned in due time and brought them gifts from faraway lands. With his Hemlock staff in hand and a leather satchel of provisions slung over his shoulder, Eldran made his way into the Yuirwood. The ancient trees seemed to whisper words of encouragement and farewell as he walked deeper into the forest.
Finding the familiar glade where the portal awaited, Eldran paused to look at the world he knew and loved so well. He was alone and the quiet moment called for a small respite to ponder his life and journeys. He pulled his favorite pipe from an inner pocket of his robes and a small bag of pipe-weed, also known as Sweet Galenas. This was his habit of relaxation and he had mastered it over a lifetime of enjoyment. With three pinches of leaf and proper tamping, he muttered a cantrip that magically lit the pipe. "Nunc Habeas Lux!" This was the way of all true pipe smoking aficionados as other fires left a residue tainting the flavor of the leaves. He drew the smoke into his mouth sucking gently and moving his tongue back along the palate. Life was good. The portal shimmered with a faint blue light, its edges tinged with the promise of distant lands and arcane mysteries. Eldran, having finished his thoughtful reflections and his smoke, used a finger to rub the ash into the walls of the bowl and then tapped out the excess. He put away his vice, stood up and with one last check of his belongings, stepped through the portal.
On the other side, at his destination, the air crackled with unfamiliar magic. Something was different. What should have been usual and routine, was amiss.
Eldran never emerged on the other side.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Back in the village, the seasons changed, and the villagers spoke of Eldran with reverence, keeping the fire in his cottage alive in case he returned. Yet, as time stretched on, hope began to wane. They spoke of him in hushed tones, recounting tales of his wisdom, courage and friendship. The portal in the Yuirwood remained a silent sentinel, a testament to the wizard who had ventured beyond its threshold and never returned.
And so, Eldran the wizard passed into legend, his name whispered on the winds that stirred the leaves of the Yuirwood, a reminder of a humble sage who dared to seek the unknown.
Over a hundred years passed, then, on a cool autumn morning, a ship was sailing bound for Waterdeep. It was then that something peculiar happened. It was small and unassuming. It almost went unnoticed and would have been in vain. A pipe appeared lying on a table. Tendrils of smoke still rising from the heat of the bowl.
Seated at that table, a stranger reached over and gently picked it up.
And with that, the adventure begins its journey…
