Chromir helped dig, using his large hands and his rage to aid his digging. As the hole is done, he ends his rage.
"Am I understanding right? You wish to grow a new weed-that-walks? Even though it wanted to kill you? The druids I spent time with always told me that weeds can kill a forest and should be uprooted. Oh well, this is your land, so you know best" and he will help carry the pod to the earth.
Navrine looks at stonefeather. “I do not understand, this creature could cause suffering to your own people?” She looks down at the pod, “Are you sure this is what you want?” Navrine reflects on the suffering the mound had caused then pauses and thinking about the suffering of the mound.
"... this creature could cause suffering to your own people?" She looks down at the pod. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"I mean no offense to your druids," Stone Feather began, adding in a non-committal shrug. "But everything has its place in the Balance ... even weeds."
Taking on the tone of a wizened elder seeking to make a point with a pupil, the shaman continued.
"You could cause suffering to my people. Would it be proper to kill you before you became a danger?"
"If everything that might harm the lizards deserved death just for being ... where does that end?"
The wave of a clawed hand to clear the air and change subjects.
"Bah. You did not leave the safety of your stone houses and tilled fields just to venture upon the Great Moor and lecture lizardfolk."
"Tell me soft-skins, why is it Malrik would send you to <<Seek Parley with Stone Feather>>" The shaman asked, using the draconic phrase the party had introduced themselves with.
Cassian listens closely to Stone Feather, the shaman’s words resonating, though he still has concerns. Inclining his head respectfully, he says, “I-I see that you only want to protect your people, Stone Feather. I don’t f-fully understand it, but I trust you k-know what you're doing."
He shifts, glancing at his companions before continuing. “Malrik h-hired us to pick up the item you agreed to give him. H-he said he's been too busy to come himself."
Doc is happy they can now converse with Stone feather. He doesn't understand why he would want to have the mount back, but decides not to say anything about it. Listening to what the others have to say.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Under Stone Feather’s guidance, the shambling mound’s seed pod was buried deep in the marsh, ensuring it would remain dormant. Though the heroes did not entirely understand Stone Feather’s insistence on maintaining the Balance of the Great Moor, they accepted his decision and allowed him to complete the task.
"You seek the Voidscale." Stone Feather said, his voice calm yet resonant with significance. "I know of the idol and its resting place. Come, I will lead you to my people’s encampment where it is kept."
With a gesture, the shaman indicated the pair of massive summoned crocodiles. "The journey ahead will be through the deep waters of the Moor. Take these mounts, if you will; they will serve you well."
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Navrine nods and goes along with the rest of the party. She is a bit concerned about the lethal nature of the moors, having mainly been a city person, she is a bit uncomfortable in the wilds but focuses on the tasks at hand trusting her path. She whispers to herself “Until I can bear a fraction of your burden, Sufferer, I shall.”
The heroes rode the crocodiles through the labyrinthine waterways of the Great Moor as the evening deepened. The dense canopy above obscured the rising moon, shrouding the marsh in a dim, eerie sort of twilight. The hum of insects grew louder in the cooling air, joined by the occasional distant splash or low croak from unseen creatures. The waters below glimmered faintly, reflecting the first stars of the night as the massive crocodiles swam effortlessly, their powerful tails propelling them through the deepest channels. Stone Feather swam ahead, leading the way, his staff parting the reeds and water plants.
Eventually, the winding waterways opened to an expanse of water where a cluster of wooden platforms and huts rose above the marsh on stilts, illuminated by flickering torches. The lizardfolk encampment was alive with quiet activity, hunters returning with their catches, artisans working by lamplight, and sentries watching the edges of the settlement with watchful eyes. Smoke curled upward from cooking fires, carrying the scent of dried fish and burning peat. The crocodiles glided to a stop alongside a central platform, and the adventurers dismounted, their boots splashing into the shallows before stepping onto the creaking wooden planks.
Stone Feather gestured for them to follow, leading them toward the largest structure in the camp — a hut adorned with reptilian skulls, feathers, and dangling charms that swayed in the evening breeze. Inside, the chieftain awaited, his ceremonial regalia of bone and leather catching the warm light of an oil lamp. The streaks of ochre and ash painted on his crest seemed to glow faintly, and his golden eyes, luminous in the dimness, regarded the group with suspicion and begrudging respect.
Stone Feather bowed slightly before the chieftain and began to speak in the hissing tones of Draconic, explaining the heroes’ purpose and their need to retrieve the Voidscale Idol. The chieftain’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Malrik, and he gave a derisive snort.
"Malrik," The chieftain said in a broken but understandable Common. "Always meddling, always seeking what should not be sought. He would do well to leave some mysteries unexplored."
Despite his disdain, the chieftain waved a clawed hand toward Stone Feather. "Give them the Voidscale. It has rested in our care for generations, and though it belongs to the Moor, we will not stand in your way. But know this, soft-skins ... the Voidscale is not a tool for mortal ambitions. Its power demands respect. See to it that Malrik understands this — or the Moor will."
The chieftain turned away, his dismissal clear. Stone Feather inclined his head respectfully, then motioned for the heroes to follow him once more. Outside, the settlement was cast in deep shadow, lit only by torchlight and the silver glow of the moon filtering through the canopy.
"You may make camp here." Stone Feather said. "I will bring the Voidscale to you at first light."
Doc is not happy with that suggestion, he got a job and will fullfill it. But he is interested in knowing what the voidscale does aswell, and why the chieftain gives it to Malrik even though he doesn't think it's a good idea.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
"The Voidscale," Stone Feather began, his tone carrying a weight of history. "Is a relic from a time my people have worked hard to leave behind. Long ago, we were not as you see us now. We were tools — servants to greater powers who sought only to use our strength. The Voidscale is a reminder of those days, a gift or perhaps a curse left by an earthly master who saw us as little more than beasts."
He paused. "But we are no longer what we once were. We have forged our independence, carved out a place here in the Great Moor where we answer to none but the Balance and the land itself. And yet, the Voidscale remains—a whisper of the past, stirring dreams of dominance and savagery among those who are too quick to forget."
Stone Feather’s clawed hand gestured toward the settlement behind them. "There are voices in the chieftain’s court — louder than I would like — that would see us return to those days. To bear the Voidscale as a symbol of power. They would undo what we have built, trading our independence for the chains of servitude."
"I have no love for Malrik or his meddling ways, but in this, I agree with him. The Voidscale does not belong here. Its presence stirs dangerous ideas, and its power — however dormant it may seem — invites ruin. Better it leaves this place and fades into obscurity, far from those who might seek to use it."
The camp was still. The heroes rested in a circle near the dying embers of their fire, their forms wrapped in cloaks or blankets against the damp chill of the night.
Cassian lay among them, his armor stacked neatly by his side, but sleep did not come. Somewhere in the distance, a lone night bird cried, its mournful call echoing across the marsh. Yet beneath the natural sounds of the swamp, there was something else.
A soft breeze passed through the encampment, rustling the cattails and stirring the fire’s dying coals into a brief, flickering glow. The breeze carried with it a strange warmth, out of place in the cool of the night, and a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer danced at the edge of Cassian’s vision. It seemed to drift beyond the circle of light cast by the campfire, leading into the darkness beyond.
The swamp seemed to hold its breath, the nocturnal chorus fading to an expectant hush. Something was waiting. Something sacred.
Cassian sits up slowly, his mismatched eyes scanning the dark, restless swamp. He'd already been having difficulty sleeping after hearing about the history of the Voidscale. The light at the edge of his vision feels like a soft tug on his senses, faint but insistent; familiar yet more tangible than ever before. He reaches for his lantern and lights it to push back the encroaching gloom.
Rising carefully to his feet, he glances at his companions before stepping quietly toward the shimmer. The swamp feels heavier with each step, the silence pressing against him, but he steels himself, whispering under his breath, “Honesty, courage, compassion, duty." Joy's words, the oath that has guided him through every challenge.
Cassian followed the faint shimmer into the swamp. The earth was soft beneath his boots, and the firelight of the encampment faded into the distance.
The shimmer led him to a small clearing where the swamp's tangled vegetation fell away, revealing a small pool of water. At its center, the glow brightened, coalescing into a radiant figure. It was a vision of contrast: an armored knight wreathed in golden light, yet her infernal features marked her as unmistakably Tiefling. Her horns curved back elegantly, and her crimson skin glistened with the same holy light that radiated from her form.
The apparition was of Joy, his mentor!
She floated above the pool's surface. Behind her, shadows writhed and twisted like a living thing, forming vague, monstrous shapes — hulking figures with glowing, red eyes. Ancient. Malevolent. The shapes endlessly clawed at Joy's form, but were held at bay by her radiant nimbus.
"Cassian, my dear boy!"Joy’s voice rang out, clear and steady. "Your path has been hard fought ... but the choice is now upon you. The time has come for you to take your Oath. These words will bind you ... but they will give your life purpose." Her gaze was piercing, yet her expression held the faintest trace of a smile, one that carried the weight of hard-won truth.
"To undertake the Oath is to always embrace that-which-is-right, to shield the innocent even when the shadows call your name ... or tear at your flesh."
"Be warned, however, the light you carry will draw the dark closer."
The rippling water at her feet changed, turning glassy and reflective. When Cassian looked down, he saw his own face staring back, but the reflection shifted, flickering between his true self and something twisted — his left eye glowed brighter, the black sclera spreading across his entire face, drawing his mouth into a cruel, serpentine grin.
"You are not cursed, my boy." Joy said, floating toward Cassian. Her inner radiance scattering the evil reflection as she reached out a hand to touch his cheek.
Cassian’s breath catches in his throat as he gazes at the radiant figure of Joy standing before him. He forgets all else in that moment: the swamp, the others, the Voidscale. The sight of her, wreathed in golden light, stirs a deep ache within him—a mix of sorrow, relief, and gratitude. Tears well in his mismatched eyes, his voice trembling as he whispers, “J-Joy…I…” He falters, unable to find the words for the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.
When his gaze drops to the pool and he sees his twisted reflection, his heart lurches. The grin and glowing eye seem to mock him, a manifestation of his deepest fears. But her words—not cursed...chosen—echo in his mind, louder than the doubts that have plagued him for so long. He takes a shuddering breath, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. His resolve hardens as he looks back at her.
“I am ready,” he says, the weight of her words settling into his heart. “The darkness may come, but…i-if it means protecting others, if it means showing them they’re not alone…it’s worth it.”
Cassian kneels before her, bowing his head as he places a hand over his heart. He closes his eyes and, through the lump in his throat, recites the sacred words of the Oath of Devotion:
"I will be the light in the darkness.
I will protect the weak and uphold the good.
I will temper justice with mercy and shield the innocent from harm.
I will be the hope that endures when all else falls to shadow."
As the final words leave his lips, he feels the weight of the oath settle within him, a warmth blooming in his chest that pushes back the fear and uncertainty.
Doc sleeps like a baby, used to having to get sleep whenever he can, he doesn't wake up unless someone wakes him for a watch, or for trouble.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war |Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Morning in the lizardfolk encampment was quiet, the swamp mist clinging to the cool air. After the party had woke and shared a breakfast, Stone Feather approached, carrying a bundle wrapped in dark leather.
Kneeling, he unwrapped the Voidscale. It was a polished black dragon scale about the size of a dinner plate that had been carved into an ouroboros ... but instead of a snake ... the circular design was that of a dragon consuming its own tail.
"A relic from a time when my people bowed to masters of flesh and fire." Stone Feather said.
"I do not know what Malrik wants with such a thing, but some of my people whisper of those days with longing ... I fear that they would use the Voidscale as a prop to rally others to their cause."
"It no longer belongs here."
During this transaction, lizardfolk throughout the camp went about their business, some glancing over their shoulders here and there to observe the exchange. For a few, their gaze lingered longer than was necessary. Their quiet, unreadable stares hinted at unspoken thoughts. Curiosity perhaps ... or something less welcoming.
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Chromir helped dig, using his large hands and his rage to aid his digging. As the hole is done, he ends his rage.
"Am I understanding right? You wish to grow a new weed-that-walks? Even though it wanted to kill you? The druids I spent time with always told me that weeds can kill a forest and should be uprooted. Oh well, this is your land, so you know best" and he will help carry the pod to the earth.
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Navrine looks at stonefeather. “I do not understand, this creature could cause suffering to your own people?” She looks down at the pod, “Are you sure this is what you want?” Navrine reflects on the suffering the mound had caused then pauses and thinking about the suffering of the mound.
粛白,
ジョニー
"I mean no offense to your druids," Stone Feather began, adding in a non-committal shrug. "But everything has its place in the Balance ... even weeds."
Taking on the tone of a wizened elder seeking to make a point with a pupil, the shaman continued.
"You could cause suffering to my people. Would it be proper to kill you before you became a danger?"
"If everything that might harm the lizards deserved death just for being ... where does that end?"
The wave of a clawed hand to clear the air and change subjects.
"Bah. You did not leave the safety of your stone houses and tilled fields just to venture upon the Great Moor and lecture lizardfolk."
"Tell me soft-skins, why is it Malrik would send you to <<Seek Parley with Stone Feather>>" The shaman asked, using the draconic phrase the party had introduced themselves with.
Cassian listens closely to Stone Feather, the shaman’s words resonating, though he still has concerns. Inclining his head respectfully, he says, “I-I see that you only want to protect your people, Stone Feather. I don’t f-fully understand it, but I trust you k-know what you're doing."
He shifts, glancing at his companions before continuing. “Malrik h-hired us to pick up the item you agreed to give him. H-he said he's been too busy to come himself."
Doc is happy they can now converse with Stone feather. He doesn't understand why he would want to have the mount back, but decides not to say anything about it. Listening to what the others have to say.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Under Stone Feather’s guidance, the shambling mound’s seed pod was buried deep in the marsh, ensuring it would remain dormant. Though the heroes did not entirely understand Stone Feather’s insistence on maintaining the Balance of the Great Moor, they accepted his decision and allowed him to complete the task.
"You seek the Voidscale." Stone Feather said, his voice calm yet resonant with significance. "I know of the idol and its resting place. Come, I will lead you to my people’s encampment where it is kept."
With a gesture, the shaman indicated the pair of massive summoned crocodiles. "The journey ahead will be through the deep waters of the Moor. Take these mounts, if you will; they will serve you well."
Chromir will gratefully accept the mount. Although he is a good swimmer due to his large muscles, he isn't going to pass up the hospitality
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Doc is happy to get a mount aswell.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Navrine nods and goes along with the rest of the party. She is a bit concerned about the lethal nature of the moors, having mainly been a city person, she is a bit uncomfortable in the wilds but focuses on the tasks at hand trusting her path. She whispers to herself “Until I can bear a fraction of your burden, Sufferer, I shall.”
粛白,
ジョニー
Cassian climbs onto the back of the crocodile a little ways behind Chromir, excited to get to ride the creature in a less stressful situation.
The heroes rode the crocodiles through the labyrinthine waterways of the Great Moor as the evening deepened. The dense canopy above obscured the rising moon, shrouding the marsh in a dim, eerie sort of twilight. The hum of insects grew louder in the cooling air, joined by the occasional distant splash or low croak from unseen creatures. The waters below glimmered faintly, reflecting the first stars of the night as the massive crocodiles swam effortlessly, their powerful tails propelling them through the deepest channels. Stone Feather swam ahead, leading the way, his staff parting the reeds and water plants.
Eventually, the winding waterways opened to an expanse of water where a cluster of wooden platforms and huts rose above the marsh on stilts, illuminated by flickering torches. The lizardfolk encampment was alive with quiet activity, hunters returning with their catches, artisans working by lamplight, and sentries watching the edges of the settlement with watchful eyes. Smoke curled upward from cooking fires, carrying the scent of dried fish and burning peat. The crocodiles glided to a stop alongside a central platform, and the adventurers dismounted, their boots splashing into the shallows before stepping onto the creaking wooden planks.
Stone Feather gestured for them to follow, leading them toward the largest structure in the camp — a hut adorned with reptilian skulls, feathers, and dangling charms that swayed in the evening breeze. Inside, the chieftain awaited, his ceremonial regalia of bone and leather catching the warm light of an oil lamp. The streaks of ochre and ash painted on his crest seemed to glow faintly, and his golden eyes, luminous in the dimness, regarded the group with suspicion and begrudging respect.
Stone Feather bowed slightly before the chieftain and began to speak in the hissing tones of Draconic, explaining the heroes’ purpose and their need to retrieve the Voidscale Idol. The chieftain’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Malrik, and he gave a derisive snort.
"Malrik," The chieftain said in a broken but understandable Common. "Always meddling, always seeking what should not be sought. He would do well to leave some mysteries unexplored."
Despite his disdain, the chieftain waved a clawed hand toward Stone Feather. "Give them the Voidscale. It has rested in our care for generations, and though it belongs to the Moor, we will not stand in your way. But know this, soft-skins ... the Voidscale is not a tool for mortal ambitions. Its power demands respect. See to it that Malrik understands this — or the Moor will."
The chieftain turned away, his dismissal clear. Stone Feather inclined his head respectfully, then motioned for the heroes to follow him once more. Outside, the settlement was cast in deep shadow, lit only by torchlight and the silver glow of the moon filtering through the canopy.
"You may make camp here." Stone Feather said. "I will bring the Voidscale to you at first light."
"What is the Voidscale? Is it better to not take it to Malrik?"
After joining more my signature got out of hand so I am now a proud member of the extended signature club!! :)
Doc is not happy with that suggestion, he got a job and will fullfill it. But he is interested in knowing what the voidscale does aswell, and why the chieftain gives it to Malrik even though he doesn't think it's a good idea.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
"The Voidscale," Stone Feather began, his tone carrying a weight of history. "Is a relic from a time my people have worked hard to leave behind. Long ago, we were not as you see us now. We were tools — servants to greater powers who sought only to use our strength. The Voidscale is a reminder of those days, a gift or perhaps a curse left by an earthly master who saw us as little more than beasts."
He paused. "But we are no longer what we once were. We have forged our independence, carved out a place here in the Great Moor where we answer to none but the Balance and the land itself. And yet, the Voidscale remains—a whisper of the past, stirring dreams of dominance and savagery among those who are too quick to forget."
Stone Feather’s clawed hand gestured toward the settlement behind them. "There are voices in the chieftain’s court — louder than I would like — that would see us return to those days. To bear the Voidscale as a symbol of power. They would undo what we have built, trading our independence for the chains of servitude."
"I have no love for Malrik or his meddling ways, but in this, I agree with him. The Voidscale does not belong here. Its presence stirs dangerous ideas, and its power — however dormant it may seem — invites ruin. Better it leaves this place and fades into obscurity, far from those who might seek to use it."
Later That Evening
The camp was still. The heroes rested in a circle near the dying embers of their fire, their forms wrapped in cloaks or blankets against the damp chill of the night.
Cassian lay among them, his armor stacked neatly by his side, but sleep did not come. Somewhere in the distance, a lone night bird cried, its mournful call echoing across the marsh. Yet beneath the natural sounds of the swamp, there was something else.
A soft breeze passed through the encampment, rustling the cattails and stirring the fire’s dying coals into a brief, flickering glow. The breeze carried with it a strange warmth, out of place in the cool of the night, and a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer danced at the edge of Cassian’s vision. It seemed to drift beyond the circle of light cast by the campfire, leading into the darkness beyond.
The swamp seemed to hold its breath, the nocturnal chorus fading to an expectant hush. Something was waiting. Something sacred.
Cassian sits up slowly, his mismatched eyes scanning the dark, restless swamp. He'd already been having difficulty sleeping after hearing about the history of the Voidscale. The light at the edge of his vision feels like a soft tug on his senses, faint but insistent; familiar yet more tangible than ever before. He reaches for his lantern and lights it to push back the encroaching gloom.
Rising carefully to his feet, he glances at his companions before stepping quietly toward the shimmer. The swamp feels heavier with each step, the silence pressing against him, but he steels himself, whispering under his breath, “Honesty, courage, compassion, duty." Joy's words, the oath that has guided him through every challenge.
Cassian followed the faint shimmer into the swamp. The earth was soft beneath his boots, and the firelight of the encampment faded into the distance.
The shimmer led him to a small clearing where the swamp's tangled vegetation fell away, revealing a small pool of water. At its center, the glow brightened, coalescing into a radiant figure. It was a vision of contrast: an armored knight wreathed in golden light, yet her infernal features marked her as unmistakably Tiefling. Her horns curved back elegantly, and her crimson skin glistened with the same holy light that radiated from her form.
The apparition was of Joy, his mentor!
She floated above the pool's surface. Behind her, shadows writhed and twisted like a living thing, forming vague, monstrous shapes — hulking figures with glowing, red eyes. Ancient. Malevolent. The shapes endlessly clawed at Joy's form, but were held at bay by her radiant nimbus.
"Cassian, my dear boy!" Joy’s voice rang out, clear and steady. "Your path has been hard fought ... but the choice is now upon you. The time has come for you to take your Oath. These words will bind you ... but they will give your life purpose." Her gaze was piercing, yet her expression held the faintest trace of a smile, one that carried the weight of hard-won truth.
"To undertake the Oath is to always embrace that-which-is-right, to shield the innocent even when the shadows call your name ... or tear at your flesh."
"Be warned, however, the light you carry will draw the dark closer."
The rippling water at her feet changed, turning glassy and reflective. When Cassian looked down, he saw his own face staring back, but the reflection shifted, flickering between his true self and something twisted — his left eye glowed brighter, the black sclera spreading across his entire face, drawing his mouth into a cruel, serpentine grin.
"You are not cursed, my boy." Joy said, floating toward Cassian. Her inner radiance scattering the evil reflection as she reached out a hand to touch his cheek.
"You were chosen."
"Are you ready? Will you say the Words?"
Cassian’s breath catches in his throat as he gazes at the radiant figure of Joy standing before him. He forgets all else in that moment: the swamp, the others, the Voidscale. The sight of her, wreathed in golden light, stirs a deep ache within him—a mix of sorrow, relief, and gratitude. Tears well in his mismatched eyes, his voice trembling as he whispers, “J-Joy…I…” He falters, unable to find the words for the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.
When his gaze drops to the pool and he sees his twisted reflection, his heart lurches. The grin and glowing eye seem to mock him, a manifestation of his deepest fears. But her words—not cursed...chosen—echo in his mind, louder than the doubts that have plagued him for so long. He takes a shuddering breath, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. His resolve hardens as he looks back at her.
“I am ready,” he says, the weight of her words settling into his heart. “The darkness may come, but…i-if it means protecting others, if it means showing them they’re not alone…it’s worth it.”
Cassian kneels before her, bowing his head as he places a hand over his heart. He closes his eyes and, through the lump in his throat, recites the sacred words of the Oath of Devotion:
"I will be the light in the darkness.
I will protect the weak and uphold the good.
I will temper justice with mercy and shield the innocent from harm.
I will be the hope that endures when all else falls to shadow."
As the final words leave his lips, he feels the weight of the oath settle within him, a warmth blooming in his chest that pushes back the fear and uncertainty.
Doc sleeps like a baby, used to having to get sleep whenever he can, he doesn't wake up unless someone wakes him for a watch, or for trouble.
"grandpa" Salkur, Gnome Arti/Sorc: Forged in Chaos | Pepin, Human Arti/Cleric: Goblin horde | Mixtli, Volc Genasi Arti: Champions of the Citadel | Erix Vadalitis, Human Druid: Rising from the last war | Smithy, Human Arti: Night Ravens: Black orchids for Biscotti | Tamphalic Aliprax, Dragonborn Wizard: Chronicles of the Accursed | Doc, Dwarven Cleric (2024): Adventure at Hope's End | Abathax, Tiefling Illriger: Hunt for the Balowang | Gorin Mestel, Human Arti: Descend into Avernus
Morning in the lizardfolk encampment was quiet, the swamp mist clinging to the cool air. After the party had woke and shared a breakfast, Stone Feather approached, carrying a bundle wrapped in dark leather.
Kneeling, he unwrapped the Voidscale. It was a polished black dragon scale about the size of a dinner plate that had been carved into an ouroboros ... but instead of a snake ... the circular design was that of a dragon consuming its own tail.
"A relic from a time when my people bowed to masters of flesh and fire." Stone Feather said.
"I do not know what Malrik wants with such a thing, but some of my people whisper of those days with longing ... I fear that they would use the Voidscale as a prop to rally others to their cause."
"It no longer belongs here."
During this transaction, lizardfolk throughout the camp went about their business, some glancing over their shoulders here and there to observe the exchange. For a few, their gaze lingered longer than was necessary. Their quiet, unreadable stares hinted at unspoken thoughts. Curiosity perhaps ... or something less welcoming.