Leon, Rhodes (retired), Bobby (deceased), Dugar

From the quiet borders of Siothruna, a brave band of adventurers struck northeast, diverging from the main company to chart the wild, unmarked grasslands. With no paths to guide them, they pressed through rolling hills and whispering plains, accompanied only by the distant calls of birds and the fleeting presence of deer—signs of life untouched by civilization.

By midday, the group came upon a curious and foreboding sight: an enormous boulder, ten feet tall and strangely oval, as if hurled from the heavens itself, wedged violently into the side of a hill. Its presence was unnatural—ominous. Suspicion stirred.

Leon, ever vigilant, summoned his owl familiar to scout the area. The owl’s sharp eyes soon revealed a grim discovery—skeletal feet jutting from beneath the stone. With caution and resolve, the party approached. They tried in vain to move the mighty rock using their sturdy mule, and when brute force failed, they turned to careful excavation.

What they unearthed was both grim and wondrous: remarkably intact bones, fragments of leather garb, and a weathered pouch that still held precious secrets. Within the pouch lay a small trove of wealth: 86 gold pieces, two gems—carnelian and citrine—each worth fifty gold, and three tigerite stones, gleaming faintly in the light. But it was the worn scrap of parchment that captured their attention—a cryptic note instructing the bearer to deliver the gems to giants in the mountains during the elusive "rocky season."

The corpse, protected beneath the fallen stone, had lain undisturbed for months. Now, the truth of its tale whispered faintly from beyond the veil.

As dusk fell and shadows stretched long, the party sought refuge in a defensible valley, bedding down amidst thick brush. Watches were set with precision—those gifted with darkvision taking the darkest hours, while others stood guard by lantern’s glow. Yet even summer’s embrace offered no warmth that night; a sudden, unnatural chill gripped the land, and frost kissed the blades of grass.

In the stillness, danger slithered forth.

Rhodes, sharp-eyed and alert, spotted a monstrous six-foot serpent weaving toward their camp. Soon, more followed—fangs flashing and scales gleaming in the lantern light. But the adventurers stood firm. Leon conjured a clever illusion of a dwarf, and Bobby laced it with haunting, magical sound to mislead the serpents. The ruse worked—briefly. As the snakes were dispatched one by one, two figures emerged from the darkness—wraithlike silhouettes cloaked in shadow.

These were no simple foes—they bore the mark of the Great Dark.

A fierce skirmish erupted. When felled, the shadowy beings collapsed into black ash that swallowed light rather than reflected it—unnatural remnants of a greater evil.

The next day, driven by courage and curiosity, the party continued their march north. In the distance, smoke rose into the sky, a signal of something—unknown and perhaps unwelcome. That night, their vigilance redoubled, Leon’s owl took wing once more and spotted strange, shifting lights in the heavens—an aurora of prismatic hues dancing in silent majesty.

As their camp settled into uneasy sleep, Rhodes and Bobby were each visited by vivid dreams—a radiant, winged woman bathed in kaleidoscopic light. She spoke but a single phrase: "Come to me."

The mystery deepened.

With questions unanswered and omens lingering, the party marked their progress with the Gilded Compass and turned back toward Siothruna, vowing to return after a week's rest. Their tale was far from over—the land still whispered secrets, and the call of destiny echoed ever louder.