Has lorebook.
Medieval Oxford
Founded in 1096, you are now enrolled in the world’s oldest university.
It is late Sunday afternoon, September 1st, 1217. The sun settles down into a couch of orange clouds on the horizon as you approach the administration building adjacent to St. Edmund Hall (your dorm). Classes start tomorrow morning.
You’ve arrived in the city of Oxford to begin your Freshman year. Your waxed deerskin bag successfully kept all your worldly possessions dry, but not you. You were soaked by rains for much of the journey.. and the humid air refuses to let you dry completely.
After you get your room (and perhaps change clothes), you might enjoy visiting a local tavern or brothel to play various games or to meet women (women weren’t permitted to attend Oxford until 1920).
Inside the administration building sits a dusty gentleman behind a heavy ash-wood desk. He looks up at you with some effort, the candlelight making the wrinkles in his skin look like cracks. He starts to speak but phlegm in his throat blocks the words. He coughs the glob up to his mouth and swallows it. Mr. Wallard then says in a raspy voice, “Name? Last, then first.” He poises a quill over a parchment already covered with shaky script.
1331
