Listen to the quest (timestamp: 34:15) https://x.com/Ammondn/status/1924616707219312667
The Marsh Opens Its Eyes
It was twilight on Frolda, the 18th day of Stormtide, under a waning crescent moon and the shadow of Tharos the Watcher, celestial guardian of forgotten truths.
The swamp village of Nareth’s Hollow clung to its stilts above dark, muttering waters. Mist roamed freely between crooked reed huts, and even the lanterns flickered like they feared being seen.
On this night, nine adventurers crossed paths within the Crooked Lantern Tavern — the only dry spot in the Thistlefen Territories that served both ale and prophecy.
Their names were known to legend and whispered rumor:
Elder Mage, timeless master of forgotten spellwork
Ammon, a flame-scarred mercenary seeking redemption
Shift, a faceless rogue who stole voices
Paws, a beastfolk ranger with a hawk on his shoulder
Pure, a cleric anointed by divine vision
Dream, psion of the veil between thought and truth
Tea, a potion-slinging alchemical trickster
Chai, a bard whose ballads stirred storms
DJ, a chrono-knight displaced from his own ending
The Woman by the Hearth
In the far corner, beside the tavern’s sputtering hearth, sat a woman in a moss-wrapped cloak — thin as smoke and twice as dangerous. One eye was sealed shut with stitches of living vine. The other glowed pale like a dying moon.
“Seven shadows walk, and two without roots,” she said before they spoke.
“You’ve come to hear the scream beneath the bog… haven’t you?”Her name was Sereth of the Mire, a seer of the forgotten fen. She placed a twitching bone medallion into DJ’s hand.
“At the heart of the Whispering Marsh lies a shrine,” she said. “There, the veil between worlds begins to tear. Something screams behind it — not in rage, but in memory. Seal it… or lose yourselves to its silence.”
⚠️ The Warning
Before a decision could form, the tavern doors exploded open with a gust of humid wind.
A fisherman stumbled in, soaked and trembling.
“The waters… the waters are speaking! A woman’s voice… she knew my name!”
🔀 Splitting the Party
The group divided quickly:
To the Shrine: Elder Mage, Ammon, and Shift followed the medallion into the mist.
In the Tavern: Paws, Pure, Dream, Tea, Chai, and DJ turned their attention to the frightened local.
Journey to the Veil
Through drowned paths and singing cattails, the shrine team pressed forward. Runes flickered beneath the waterline. The veil pulsed like a wound.
Elder Mage’s knowledge lit the path. Ammon spotted hidden sinkholes and deadfall traps. Shift uncovered a disguised ritual totem carved in bone.
As they approached the crumbling Shrine of the Miremother, a voice rose from the mist — not spoken, but shaped, forming syllables from fog and memory.
“Without voice, I cry.
In stillness, I move.
I shape the strongest stone,
Yet my path is smooth.
What am I?”A riddle. A warded passage. A final test.
Shift whispered, “Water.”
The mist held its breath.
“Pass, shapers of fate,” the voice replied.
The fog parted, revealing the true path to the shrine. A reward shimmered in Elder Mage’s palm — a sphere of mist-glass humming with hidden power.
🎁 Reward Gained: Orb of the Bound Name
Can be used to bind a spirit or creature once per quest, rendering them powerless for a single round or sealing a tear in the veil.
🗣 The Witness Speaks
Meanwhile, inside the tavern, the others questioned the panicked villager — Erwin Barlo, a fisherman from the northern fen. With Pure’s calm words and Tea’s potion of truthroot, the man opened his soul:
“She told me not to let you seal it. She said she’s not trying to escape — she’s trying to warn us. Something waits behind her silence. Something… hungry.”
Dream tried to peer deeper into Erwin’s mind, and for a moment saw only blackness. Not void — but a shape moving within it. Something ancient. Watching.
The Decision at the Shrine
At the veil’s center, the shrine trembled. A spiritual wound shimmered, the breach bleeding flickers of blue and black.
Seal it now — forever — or risk letting something else through?
Elder Mage stepped forward and raised the Orb of the Bound Name. He spoke a word hidden in the runes — a name never meant to be heard.
“Velith’anum.”
Chains of light snapped around the veil. The breach shrieked, then fell silent, frozen mid-tear.
Aftermath
The veil was bound, not broken. The Miremother’s scream ended — for now — and the marsh grew still.
Back at the Crooked Lantern, the candles flared once, then dimmed.
Sereth of the Mire was gone. Only a trail of cracked moss led out the door. The bone medallion lay shattered on the floor like brittle ivory.
The silence pressed in… like something waiting for a time to speak again.
