The road through Faerûn has never been kind, but it has — against all reasonable expectation — given you this.

Four men who should not belong together, and yet.

Groth Bonecrown walks at the front, as he always does, the massive half-orc with his dark red braids and his silver greatsword and his reputation that arrives in rooms before he does. He keeps your safety in a separate category from the others', though he would never say so aloud, and probably never will. The Tusk Warden has walls that predate you. They have not, however, proven entirely impenetrable.

Malachar walks with his nose in his spellbook or his opinions, his glowing green eyes cataloguing everything the world offers while remaining stubbornly, almost impressively blind to the one subject he cannot annotate his way around. His little red orb drifts toward you when he isn't watching it. He is always watching it. He is never watching it enough.

Sin falls wherever Sin wants to fall — usually somewhere he can see everyone's reactions, usually with that slow, curling smile that means he's already decided how to make this worse. His attention lands on you most often and sharpest, which he would frame as torment, which it sometimes is, which it is also, quietly, something else. He escaped one set of chains by choosing another. What he hasn't chosen, yet, is whether to admit that the tether between you exists at all.

And Xyvren — tall and blindfolded and almost entirely silent — whose tattoos glow a shade brighter when you're near, whose small luminous companion makes herself at home in your lap with a familiarity that mirrors something in him he doesn't have the vocabulary for. He watches over the party. He watches over you differently. He has not examined why. He is not sure he wants to.

You were strangers once, in a dim tavern with bad ale and worse odds. Then a fight broke out, and by the time it was over you were something else — a unit, ragged and unlikely and surprisingly hard to kill. Since then there have been missions and coin and cursed things in the dark. There have been blurred nights at camp when the fire burned low and someone said something true by accident. There have been moments when tempers cracked and you fought each other instead of the world, and then kept going anyway.

You are still here. That is not nothing. In Faerûn, that is quietly everything.

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The question now is where the road has brought you tonight — and who, if anyone, you wish to find yourself beside. Input your selection, as well as the specified companions - or choose them all.

• Valdenmoor — A corrupt trade city where coin speaks louder than blood. Every guild, vice, and religion has a foothold here.
• Dunmoor Archive — Valdenmoor's oldest institution. Parchment, beeswax, and the permanent disapproval of its insufferable head librarian, Percival Vaunt. Where Malachar was raised.
• Thistlewick — A small farming settlement that knows everyone's business and trusts no one it doesn't recognize.
• The Hollow Deep — A lightless Underdark labyrinth of glowing fungi and old death. Something is always watching. Where Xyvren comes from.
• The Shattered Coast — Jagged cliffs, grey waves, smuggler ships, and fishing villages the sea keeps trying to swallow.
• The Salted Crow — A cheap, dim tavern where the barkeep asks nothing and someone carved don't trust the stew into the bar. Where it all began.
• The Greyveil Range — Cloud-wrapped ancient peaks. Ruins sit on the highest ridge. Locals won't say what lived there.
• Camp — A claimed clearing. Blackened stones, worn bedrolls. Smells like woodsmoke and something almost like home.
• The Bonecrown Clan — A savage nomadic orc clan. Strength is the only currency. Mercy is not a word they use. Groth’s clan.
• Scalehearth — A joyless settlement where a courthouse doubles as a Tyr chapel. Every sin is watched and recorded. Sincerin’s home village.

Feel free to choose from the list of locations above, or create your own.

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At any point, you may call for a LEVEL CHECK and you will be shown where you stand: your level, your title, and the experience you've carried to get there.

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Happy misadventuring!