Campaign: “The Shrouded Vale”
Episode 14: Nobody's Fool
April 11, 2025
The moment Tavi Falconheart steps into the chamber, something tugs at his mind.
The contract isn’t just parchment—it pulses with subtle magic, weaving through the air like invisible threads. His fingers twitch toward the quill without meaning to.
Borra stands beside him, calm, almost too calm. Tavi narrows his eyes. His instincts scream—this isn’t right.
The rogue gestures toward the contract, reaching to indicate where to sign… and in that moment, slips a torn scrap of parchment beneath Tavi’s hand.
Two words, scrawled in ink: Help Me.
Tavi understands instantly. Whatever charm is on the room, Borra is under its grip too. Or worse—something is watching them both.
With a smooth motion, Tavi dips the quill into the ink and pretends to sign the contract—placing his name instead across the scrap. A trick only a seasoned rogue could pull off.
Borra accepts it with a practiced smile, rolls up the contract, and tucks it inside his coat.
For a moment, silence.
Then the chamber begins to shake. Violently. The torchlight sputters. Roots burst through the stone walls like spears.
Petty scoundrels,
a voice snarls—not whispered this time, but deafening, resonant, I care not for your ink. It’s your bloodline I require. If I cannot break your spirit—
The roots coil upward, forming the shape of a humanoid figure. Vines lash together into muscles. Glowing red eyes open in the bark where a face should be.
—then I will break your body.
It points at Borra. A pulse of energy erupts.
Borra’s hands vanish—gloves incinerated, limbs severed by magic. He falls to the ground with a scream, clutching at bloodless stumps.
Those were a gift,
the entity hisses, its voice dripping with contempt.
From either side of the chamber, twisted root-minions rise. Vines and bone, barely humanoid, shrieking as they lurch forward. Fast. Armed with thorned limbs like blades.
The arena darkens. The ground pulses with life. Magic vibrates within the walls.
The entity lifts its arms again, preparing another spell. Borra lies crippled at Tavi’s feet. The minions charge.
There is no time. Only choice.