Ian would have payed attention to what group the 15 year old kid joined.
Ian curses under his breath in elvish and whispers.
“It seems I am still cursed with bad luck.”
Ian stands up and turns towards the vice commander and bows.
“Vice Commander, for the glory of the Void Corps.”
Ian follows the vice commander but not close.
As you start walking with the group you notice the same kid as before come up besides your group. "Ian, right? Sol and Suce as well. Nice to meet you guys," He looks at Suce and Sol in particular. "Some of your reputations proceed you. My name's Ceth, and I'm sorry for not knowing you all better figure we should at least get to know each other if we're going to be in the same unit. Though we're in the same unit I'm with the other dive team so we won't be seeing each other that often throughout the layers. And Sol, don't even try to pickpocket most people here or you'll end up with significantly less fur and lives than before." Sol, he says it so callously and casually but you know this isn't a threat but a warning.
Tyst chuckles. "I like this kid. Ceth was it? Doesn't talk in riddles or make illusory bowls of stew - just gets straight to the point." He glances towards Zarvox and mumbles, "Unlike some people..." Then he continues, "So Ceth, you've tipped your hand about Sol's reputation, but what's the word about Suce?"
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"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Ceth looks at Suce and after seemingly debating with himself goes with. “All I’ll say is he owned a great deal more power before it was stripped by his source.” He looks over at Suce with weariness in his eyes. “Though he was one of the first to join us after the war, alongside Arven, Jade and Luthe. Speaking of that, Arven didn’t show up to the speech and probably won’t show up for the briefing. Despite being our group’s leader he is annoyingly irresponsible.”
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"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Zarvox’s tail flicks once—like punctuation. He doesn’t stop walking, but his head tilts toward Ceth with theatrical precision, eyes narrowing in amused appraisal. “Ah, a voice wrapped in courtesy but stitched with caution. How quaint. Ceth, was it? A name like a cough. Brief, but possibly contagious. As for reputations… they’re just ghosts with good PR. I prefer introductions that bleed.”
Ah, Tyst.
Zarvox doesn’t flinch at the jab. Instead, he smiles wider detached, delighted, and entirely unbothered. His tail coils once, then taps the ground rhythmically, like a metronome for madness. “Yes, Ceth. Do tell. What does the rumor mill whisper of Suce? I’ve heard three versions. One says she drowned a seraph with a smile. Another claims she speaks only to ghosts. The third insists she’s a myth whose silence speaks louder than most screams.” Then, looking at Suce, Zarvox’s voice lowers—almost conspiratorial: “I believe all three. Truth is rarely so generous as to be singular. It is a pleasure to be adjacent to your legend.”
He steps slightly ahead, then pivots on his heel to face the group, coat flaring like a curtain before a performance. His ember-red eyes settle on the group—not hostile, just dissecting. Now walking backward with effortless grace, Zarvox addresses them as if the path behind him were preordained—his steps precise, his gaze unwavering. He spreads his arms wide, voice booming with flamboyant cadence: “Comrades, footnotes, fellow divers into the deliciously damned! His eyes gleam with emberlight, tail swaying in sync with his words. “I must confess—my excitement is not the kind one shares over tea and pleasantries. No, mine is the fevered thrill of a scholar handed a cursed tome.” He gestures to the abyss beyond, voice lowering to a reverent hush: “We stand at the edge of riddles yet unsolved, horrors yet unwept, truths too shy to speak plainly. And I—Zarvox, archivist of agony, riddlemancer of the void—am positively ecstatic to be here.” Then, with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes:“Let the layers test us. Let the echoes scream. I’ve brought ink, wit, and a very sharp smile.”
He finishes, bows—mocking, magnificent, and utterly sincere.
Súce smiles at the comments and remembers back in the old days, back when he held different power from a dark lord. "Ah, my new colleagues, there was a time once...you would have walked into The Pit and found me, at the head of a horde of the foulest the abyss has to offer, and indeed I would be the worse of them. Drenched in blood I was. It was glori...er...I mean it was terrible. Alas, now it is vengeance against the same dark lord I used to served. I will drown in the ichor of servants." and then softly "He will regret the day he took her from me." at the end of the comment his eyes seem distant, almost sad if you could imagine sadness in a creature such as he is. He does not mention who the "her" is.
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Quote from Chromafield >>
Tyst chuckles. "I like this kid. Ceth was it? Doesn't talk in riddles or make illusory bowls of stew - just gets straight to the point." He glances towards Zarvox and mumbles, "Unlike some people..." Then he continues, "So Ceth, you've tipped your hand about Sol's reputation, but what's the word about Suce?"
"...at worst if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."
Ceth looks at Suce and after seemingly debating with himself goes with. “All I’ll say is he owned a great deal more power before it was stripped by his source.” He looks over at Suce with weariness in his eyes. “Though he was one of the first to join us after the war, alongside Arven, Jade and Luthe. Speaking of that, Arven didn’t show up to the speech and probably won’t show up for the briefing. Despite being our group’s leader he is annoyingly irresponsible.”
"I have advantage on dex saving throws what could go wrong?"
Zarvox Narration.
Zarvox’s tail flicks once—like punctuation. He doesn’t stop walking, but his head tilts toward Ceth with theatrical precision, eyes narrowing in amused appraisal. “Ah, a voice wrapped in courtesy but stitched with caution. How quaint. Ceth, was it? A name like a cough. Brief, but possibly contagious. As for reputations… they’re just ghosts with good PR. I prefer introductions that bleed.”
Ah, Tyst.
Zarvox doesn’t flinch at the jab. Instead, he smiles wider detached, delighted, and entirely unbothered. His tail coils once, then taps the ground rhythmically, like a metronome for madness. “Yes, Ceth. Do tell. What does the rumor mill whisper of Suce? I’ve heard three versions. One says she drowned a seraph with a smile. Another claims she speaks only to ghosts. The third insists she’s a myth whose silence speaks louder than most screams.” Then, looking at Suce, Zarvox’s voice lowers—almost conspiratorial: “I believe all three. Truth is rarely so generous as to be singular. It is a pleasure to be adjacent to your legend.”
He steps slightly ahead, then pivots on his heel to face the group, coat flaring like a curtain before a performance. His ember-red eyes settle on the group—not hostile, just dissecting. Now walking backward with effortless grace, Zarvox addresses them as if the path behind him were preordained—his steps precise, his gaze unwavering. He spreads his arms wide, voice booming with flamboyant cadence: “Comrades, footnotes, fellow divers into the deliciously damned! His eyes gleam with emberlight, tail swaying in sync with his words. “I must confess—my excitement is not the kind one shares over tea and pleasantries. No, mine is the fevered thrill of a scholar handed a cursed tome.” He gestures to the abyss beyond, voice lowering to a reverent hush: “We stand at the edge of riddles yet unsolved, horrors yet unwept, truths too shy to speak plainly. And I—Zarvox, archivist of agony, riddlemancer of the void—am positively ecstatic to be here.” Then, with a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes: “Let the layers test us. Let the echoes scream. I’ve brought ink, wit, and a very sharp smile.”
He finishes, bows—mocking, magnificent, and utterly sincere.
Súce- hráve
Súce smiles at the comments and remembers back in the old days, back when he held different power from a dark lord. "Ah, my new colleagues, there was a time once...you would have walked into The Pit and found me, at the head of a horde of the foulest the abyss has to offer, and indeed I would be the worse of them. Drenched in blood I was. It was glori...er...I mean it was terrible. Alas, now it is vengeance against the same dark lord I used to served. I will drown in the ichor of servants." and then softly "He will regret the day he took her from me." at the end of the comment his eyes seem distant, almost sad if you could imagine sadness in a creature such as he is. He does not mention who the "her" is.