The Arcane Prodigy
Talent arrived early and uninvited. The masters call you gifted. The dreams call you something else.
Once per session, you know something you shouldn't. A word, a name, a spell you never learned. It arrives in your mouth before your head catches up.
Your Story
You are [name], and by every reasonable measure you shouldn't be this good yet. Your teacher in [hometown] ran out of lessons to give you before you had finished growing. A letter came last year from Candlekeep — the great fortress library of the Sword Coast, where the real wizards read. You haven't opened it. You're afraid it asks a question you already know the answer to.
You read everything. Inscriptions under bridges, rune-marks on barrel lids, the grain of old wood when it's been enchanted and then un-enchanted. Your notebook is in three alphabets, two of which nobody taught you. Your familiar — a [creature] you named [name] — watches you write, and judges the results.
Sometimes — only sometimes — the word comes first and the knowledge afterward. You'll say a name you've never heard, and then understand, an hour later, what it was the name of. You don't mention this to anyone. It would not sound well out loud.
A letter has reached you — signed Gale Dekarios, one of the most famous wizards in the Realms (the BG3 players at the table will know him). He's written twice this year. You keep the letters in a drawer. You don't answer. You know, without being able to explain how, that they are polite questions wrapped around an impolite one.
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This one is me →A week before we play, a letter will arrive at your house. Open it alone. Do not compare notes with the others until you reach the Trade Way.