Clockwork angels. Servants of the Mechanogod Whrrrm.
A name shrouded in the mists of time. A scheme of pure genius. A relic of the Mage Wars.
Once little more than a standard place of higher education, now the University of Firdon sits at the heart of the magidustrial revolution soon to sweep through Ryngard.
The followers of the mechanogod Whrrrm, those who could never have come about until the advent of steamtech.
The PCs have been traveling for a long time down the same stretch or round with no sign of anything suspicious. As they cross over to the next hill they see a gigantic splater of blood with a bleached dragons scull in the center of it. It the dragon skull's mouth is a tattered backpack with something wiggling inside of it.