The Library at Hearthhold · Lamp-Lit Hour
Old Pell, at His Desk
He looks up from a half-written page. The inkwell is open. The lamp is steady. He has been expecting you.
If you have 90 seconds, this is what the game is.
- It is a chronicle. You make a character. You walk a road. Sometimes there is a dragon at the end of it. Sometimes there isn't.
- It is slow on purpose. Most of it is reading and choosing — a meal at the inn, an oath at the cross, a name in the cemetery. The road is the journey, not the dragon.
- The dice resolve hard moments; the prose tells the story. Failure costs you days and supplies; success earns a quiet line.
- You can write in the book. The pencil button on every page is yours. The chronicle is half mine, half yours.
- You can also stay in Hearthhold and never go on the road. That is a complete chronicle too. The game does not require violence.
If that sounds like a game for you, sit down and let me show you my desk. If it doesn't — there are many other games. The chronicle is patient about who reads it.
Old Pell, Chronicler of Ironhold
Sit down. I am Pell. I keep the chronicles for travelers like you, which is to say I keep them for almost everyone who comes through Hearthhold. I am old. I have been here longer than the door. I am going to tell you what you need to know to begin, and I am going to tell it in the order I have learned to tell it. If something I say is unclear, ask again. I do not mind.
The First Throw
There is a die on the desk between us. Pick it up. Roll it. The chronicle records its first throw before it records anything else. Nothing is staked on it. It is only a hello.