While she shares her species'  red skin and strong features, the hobgoblin's manner seems far friendlier than you would associate with others of her kind.

Sharinn speaks, "I was tasked by the sage who sent us down here with ferreting out the threat of abominations. He knew you had come down here and suggested we work together. I'd like to see if we can be of help to you all."

Elias studies the hobgoblin with a calm, discerning eye as she speaks. He makes no effort to mask the scrutiny, though there is no malice behind it—merely the reflex of a man who has spent too long parsing truth from pleasant lies.

After a brief pause, he offers a polite, if pointed, reply.

“A noble intent, and one we share. Still…” he gestures subtly with one hand, the flick of his fingers as practiced as his tone, “…names are the first currency of trust in such places. You have mine—Elias Cerwyn of House Cerwyn. Might I ask yours, before we proceed further side by side?”

There is a softness to his voice despite the firm edge of his words. Something in her demeanor seems honest enough, and he would not punish a genuine soul for mere oversight.

From behind the group of new arrivals out pops the head of a large corvid(small for a humanoid), the top of the head about chest height. The black eyes blink and stare at each one of the party, as if taking a snapshot and assessing each one of them in turn. 

After a brief pause he hops out and with a splash in the water realizes it is there. Wiping off his simple leather vest and ruffling himself in slight disgust to the unwanted moisture he takes his time with the next couple steps choosing to waddle more than hop.

”Paqen, scribe of ancient culture and ritual for the Emerald Enclave,” he stretches out his feathered arm to shake hands with any who would follow such ritual. ”I had been dispatched here to study the town and the keep…or at least what’s left of the keep. But by mere happenstance the opportunity presented itself in the form a a wisened sage dogged by nightmares. Hoping to alleviate these nocturnal disturbances at the source, and avert possible disaster he was enlisting individuals to get to the heart of the matter…that is investigate the ruins for possible dangers and sources of his malady.”

”I was thrilled to get deeper into my research than anticipated and hopped at the opportunity…and here I am to aid in any way I can.”

He pauses to catch his breath after the long winded introduction. It is quite contrived and seems practiced as of a lifetime has been spent building a knowledgeable and wisened air.

“It is a pleasure to meet you all.”

“A scholar and a gentleman?” Elias smiles with rare warmth, stepping forward to meet Paqen’s outstretched feathered hand with a light, precise grip. “You may well be the first of your kind I’ve had the pleasure to speak with, Master Paqen—but you already make a fine impression.”

He releases the handshake and gestures toward the others beside him.

“We’re pleased for the aid. You arrive in the wake of some trial, and perhaps on the eve of more. A fresh mind, sharp wit, and keen observation may prove more valuable than steel before the end.”

His pale blue eyes linger on the kenku, curious. “Tell me, are you a historian of this region specifically—or do your studies cover the breadth of Faerûn?” His interest is genuine now, that wistful air momentarily replaced with the focus of a man back in his element. “There may be… pieces down here that deserve context. And none of us—myself most of all—have the full picture yet.”

Mival, meanwhile, gives Zevriel a shy smile: "A true Knight! Are you a hero like the famous Rassalantar? Yes," he sighs "these other good heroes have already brought me news of my mother - and brought me to see things with different eyes. I... I will return to her, as soon as we are finished here!"

"I don't know much about 'abominations', but" the young man reveals "we recently won a tough fight with a powerful undead capable of casting spells. And we were about to investigate a makeshift shrine to the goddess Eldath, the benevolent goddess of calm waters. I don't know if there could be any connection. Or if what you speak of awaits us... below, in the lower level - now sadly submerged, so not easy to explore for those who can't breath underwater".

Paqen shakes Elias’s hand with vigour. “Well then I hope to represent my kind well in your eyes. I go and study where my interests or the Enclave carry me. The Shadr’kai are of particular interest to me but there is not much opportunity to study them here on the material plane.”

Coming from the Emerald enclave and Druidic circles what would Paqen know of Eldath?

Quote from Coniferous_Connor >>

Paqen shakes Elias’s hand with vigour. “Well then I hope to represent my kind well in your eyes. I go and study where my interests or the Enclave carry me. The Shadr’kai are of particular interest to me but there is not much opportunity to study them here on the material plane.”

Coming from the Emerald enclave and Druidic circles what would Paqen know of Eldath?

Paqen knows that Eldath is also known as the Mother of the Waters among the Bedine people, and is often worshiped as a goddess of peace and calm waters. The Mother Guardian of Groves was a mysterious deity that acted as a protector of copses and watersheds. The voice of the Green Goddess was heard in every babbling brook, her presence felt wherever there was calm.

Zevriel listens as Mival speaks, quiet and steady, his hazel eyes fixed on the boy’s face. The momentary glint of relief in his expression says more than words ever could. When Mival finishes, Zevriel gives a firm, approving nod. “You speak well, lad,” he says, voice low and honest. “But this isn’t a place for someone your age. Not for long. You’ve seen things, I can tell. Good folk can lose themselves down here. So—when the way’s safe... go back. Your mother’s waiting.” He pauses, looking briefly toward the spiral stairs, water licking at the steps. “Keep your promise to her. That matters.”

Zevriel then glances between Elias, Paqen, and Sharinn, trying to keep up with the flowing words and formal tones, though some of it clearly slips past him. His brow furrows slightly—respectful, but a little lost. “Sorry to cut in,” he adds, shifting his grip on the twinblade across his back, “but what were you doing before we showed up?”

"I'll go back to her - but first I'll finish exploring these ruins! Especially after what you said... if there is this possible danger, I don't want my mother to have to face it one day. We'll eliminate it. As for age..." he winks.

The next moment... his form becomes indistinct for a moment, it seems to... reorganize? And in an instant, Mival is no longer Mival, but (apart from the equipment and clothes, which have remained the same)... a copy of Zevriel! "...Now I'm a more suitable age?" the Zevriel's clone smiles.

"I'm not an ordinary boy..." the shapeshifter doesn't lose his smile, while explaining "I'm a monster. No, the others convinced me that  'monster' is not the most appropriate term. Maybe we can say I am... 'special'? I mean, not that I'm an 'abomination', as you say... but I am not human, I can do things that humans can't. I'll know how to make myself useful. I've fought alongside others before - I'm not fragile and helpless as an untrained and unarmed human of my age would be."

Elias’s expression softens as Zevriel speaks to Mival, and he nods his agreement, his voice calm but edged with fatigue.

“He’s right. You’ve seen enough for one lifetime, lad. Your mother’s love is not a thing to be squandered.”

He turns then to the newcomers, his posture still dignified despite the visible toll of recent events—mud clinging to his boots, shadows under his eyes, sleeves damp from the flooded halls.

“We’d just put down a Deathlock Wight,” Elias says plainly. “A tragic thing, really. It clawed for forgiveness from something it called its ‘master’ before it faded.”

His gaze drifts briefly toward the wet stone floor as if he still sees the creature’s silhouette lingering in shadow.

"Our strength is spent,” he admits. “Tarysaa and Ardana have wounds yet to rest. I’ve little magic left myself. We were planning to return to a shrine we found—dedicated to Eldath.”

He pauses a moment, glancing to each of them.

“I’m not a religious man,” he adds, voice low. “But when I stopped there—just for a breath—I felt… peace. Clarity. It was strange, disarming. And now, with the rest of the ruins submerged, I can’t help but wonder—was it coincidence?”

“Or was the Mother of Waters trying to speak?”

He straightens, weariness giving way to conviction.

"In any case, we were headed back. To seek guidance. To prepare. You’re welcome to join us. If the three of you truly intend to help… then your timing may be more than luck.”

Paqen watches with black eyes wide as Mival shifts form into that of one of his new companions. “Well…I have never had the opportunity to encounter a shapshifter. Let alone se first hand the change in face and features. Very intriguing.” He scribbles down a couple notes and puts away his journal.

”Now this shrine to the Mother of Waters…I wonder…was it put here because of the water or is the water here because of her. Or neither. We shall investigate once we arrive. Oh and if water is a problem I might be able to scout a bit ahead in the water in another form. I do hate getting wet but if we need the option is there.”

Elias sighs softly and gives Mival a long, measured look, the kind that carries more weight than words. He nods—just once—accepting what’s already clear: the boy isn’t leaving, not yet.

“You’re not the same as when we found you, that’s certain,” he says quietly. “But don’t mistake determination for invincibility. Stay sharp. Stay close.” His voice isn't harsh, just tired—threaded with caution born from experience and concern, not control.

He turns to the others, eyes flicking between Paqen, Sharinn, Tarysaa, and Ardana.

“The shrine isn’t far. We can regroup there, take stock. If we’re to continue deeper, I’d rather we do so after Eldath has been properly asked for her favor.”

He adjusts his coat, casting a glance back the way they came.

“Let’s move.”

Zevriel’s eyes go wide as Mival’s form blurs and reforms into his own likeness—right down to the stance and all but armor and twinblade. Instinctively, Zevriel’s grip tightens on the hilt across his back, his body tensing as if bracing for a fight. His mouth opens, and for a moment only a soft, startled, “What the—” escapes before he clamps it shut, looking to Elias and the others for any sign of alarm.

Seeing that none are surprised—or at least, no one’s reaching for their weapons—Zevriel lets out a long breath and forces himself to relax when Elias explains the situation. He shifts awkwardly in the water, jaw working as he tries to find the right words.

“So… you’re her boy? Truly?” Zevriel asks, tone low and hesitant, curiosity plain on his face. “Does she know what you are?”

He shakes his head, still frowning slightly as the group prepares to move. Even as he falls in step behind Elias and the others, Zevriel glances now and then at the ‘other’ Zevriel, struggling to wrap his head around the strange revelation. He walks on in thoughtful silence, the question still lingering in his mind.

Mival returns to her previous appearance and sighs, answering Zevriel: "Not yet. It was right when I came of age, when my 'diversity' manifested itself, that I realized I wasn't human. It's because my father wasn't, as I discovered later. I'm like him. A Doppelganger. My mother doesn't know it - not yet. That's why I ran away. She's always loved me so much... I didn't want to disappoint her, to make her discover that I wasn't what she thought I was. But the others convinced me that she'll accept me anyway and I... I'm convinced now. I believe it".

Now... with the fiendish helmsman no longer available, the party will be forced to swim (or to use magical means) to complete the 15' or so that separate them from the shrine (the shrine is separated from the actual room by a stretch where the majestic corridor has collapsed, presumably falling to the lower level, so the water is deep there).

Mival can transform into a sea-elf and swims easily to the shrine - those who know him already know this, because they have done it before. What do the other characters plan to do? Just swim? Or does the party have special plans?

[[I apologize, I think I forgot to have Sharinn provide her name and no we've moved past introductions. It's Sharinn, and she would have done so.]]

Sharinn is taken a bit by the boy's transformation, an almost instinctive look of fear and anger starting to cast over her visage. She catches herself, and a look of genuine concern and curiosity overtake her. "Mival, may I ask... does it hurt?"

Paqen looks at the dark water and ruffles his feathers again, almost as if his body physically protests the idea of getting wet. He turns back to the original members of the part, “Was there any hazard or thing of note when you passed through the first time? Or just a quick clear path? If need I could take on a more aquatic form to pull folks or assist in expediting the process. Or to investigate any nooks and crannies.”

Tarysaa mutters to herself, "If only I had learned that floating disc spell..."    Looking about she directs the three newcomers to the opening to the north side of the chamber.  "Many of the cellar rooms are like you see; the floors rotted away leaving a room sized 'pool'. " 

She looks over at Mival as he chats with the new adventurers.  "No telling what is down in the flooded sub cellar, though Mival might have some idea."  

"So far, we encounterd a giant spider, one abomination and a smaller spider in what was probably the library or smoking room.  While investigating the guards' arms room, another large spider attacked.  We drove it off with injuries but it may still be lurking about.  This spot, as Elias mentioned, had a Deathlok Wight.   That was all 'above the water line'.   We are ill equipt to do an underwater exploration."

"I can misty step to the Eldath plaque.  Sadly, I am unable to ferry anyone else with me.  And, it is of limited use in the longer, watery, spans."

Mival smiles at Sharinn: "Does it hurt, you ask? No, not at all... You can think of it as changing clothes. You change something... but you don't feel pain."

The Doppelganger then tries to think along with Paqen: "We've traversed this short stretch of water several times and no one has bothered us, but we had a fiendish helmsman who ferried us across in his boat... Maybe we were left alone because the predators had learned to fear him. But if you say that you too can take on water form... we could swim together first, the two of us. If someone attacks us, we should be able to defend ourselves better than the others - and the others could help us from a distance, from the shallows. Tarysaa, as she said, can even teleport to the shrine, if by chance we are attacked only once we're there. On the other hand, if no one attacks us... then maybe this stretch of water is safe."

Elias gives a faint smile at Paqen’s discomfort, his pale eyes glancing toward the dark water.

“You needn’t worry about swimming just yet,” he says, tone dry but thoughtful. “We traveled here with the help of a ferryman—Geados. A Merrenoloth. One of the Lower Planes’ boatmen, bound by contract and coin. He asks ten gold per passage, and he’s honored that price.”

He lifts a hand slightly, gesturing back the way they came. “He’s returned to his station near the entrance, but if we call him, he’ll come. Though…” Elias’ expression shifts wryly, “he’ll likely expect payment again. He made it quite clear—one way at a time.”

“Still,” he adds, glancing toward Paqen and the others, “his boat is protected. Abjuration magic, most likely. Safe while you’re aboard. Safer, I imagine, than braving these waters ourselves.”

A faint sigh.

“So, the choice falls to us. Do we each part with coin for guaranteed safety… or risk wading through water that may—or may not—be free of threats?”

He looks from face to face, resting a beat longer on Paqen.

“Your call. I’ll follow the group’s lead.”

Paqen looks at the water and clicks his bill a couple times as he thinks then looks to Mival as his curiosity starts to overtake his common sense and dislike of being wet.

”Well if the two of us can at least check it out we will know for certain. And I wouldn’t ask someone to do that on their own. Safety in numbers. Plus there might be some valuable clue in those inky depths.” He nods at Mival and lets out a nervous laugh. “Here we go…it’s only water and you won’t have feathers…”

He Hunches over and starts to expand in size slightly. As his body grows, and feathers turn to chitin and legs multiply before the party sits a large jet black crab clicking its claws.