You’ve woken up. Floating on your back in a glowing pool, staring at a ceiling. Bright blue runes play across smooth dark slate. You think you recognize some of them. but the moment you try to reach for that knowledge, it slips through your fingers like smoke. Trying to recall your past, you remember very little. Some kind of hazy mechanism. Some sort of smoke cloud creature, then the taste of copper and the smell of death.
Looking around, you recognize those around you, but you can’t quite place them. They seem more familiar to you than passing acquaintances, but you can’t remember their names. Judging by the looks on their faces, they are in the same boat you are.
a small whirring sound sparks to life against the far wall. finely cut stone rotates against it’self. A circular dais, perhaps two foot in diameter, rotates in opposing circles, until a highly decorated, runic slate stands upright in the center, unlocking it’self from it’s stand.