Tinker didn't mean to become a specialist. He just couldn't help himself.
The schematic was meant to be a gift—or maybe a challenge. A half-elf engineer had handed it to him after his last chaotic invention "mostly worked" in a way that baffled everyone involved.
She said it was an unfinished project. Something her team had given up on years ago.
"Field-forge unit," she explained. "Mobile, adjustable, clean-burning. Good theory, but unstable execution. Flame cycles collapse after a few minutes."
Tinker looked at the scroll for three seconds, then said, "I want to try."
This is how kobolds die, I thought. Not in battle. Not in flame. But under a pile of "it might work if I just..."
But that's how it started.
