Lucian drifted in a realm of swirling shadows, the edges of his consciousness blurring between sleep and a strange, unsettling awareness. Then, a voice, deep and resonating, pierced the inky blackness. It was Vornath.

The shadows coalesced, revealing Vornath's imposing form. Flames danced in his piercing red eyes, casting an eerie glow on Lucian's face. An icy dread snaked down Lucian's spine.

"Lucian," Vornath's voice boomed, echoing in the boundless void, "the time has come. Your part of the bargain nears. I have a lead on the second gem that we were discussing." Vornath’s gaunt frame moved closer to Lucian. “The gem lies in the jagged hills a few days' journey north of where you are now.”

Lucian, his jaw clenched, asked, “How do you know where I am?”

A cruel smile played on Vornath's lips, devoid of warmth or humor. "Lucian, I'm in your dreams. I am a part of you. You think I can’t pinpoint where you are? Now listen to me because this gem will not be easy to get to. The Jagged Hills are a forgotten place. At the heart of the hills there is a cave with the gem in wait.” Just as Vornath finished explaining the gems location to Lucian his almost skeletal claw wreathed in a green fire motioned to the void.

An image flickered into existence a jagged mountain range unlike anything Lucian had ever seen. Its peaks clawed at the sky like the grasping talons of a beast, a landscape that seemed to defy the very laws of nature. Nestled within a treacherous ravine, a dark opening marked the entrance to a mine.

"The Serpent's Maw," Vornath's voice dripped with a chilling cadence. "There, the gem rests, guarded by darkness and peril. Retrieve it, Lucian. Prove your worth."

“What am I looking for once I get into the cavern? What does the gem look like?” Lucian demanded in exasperation, “Stop speaking in riddles, demon.”

Vornath now seriously looked at Lucian. “As you wish. The gem you are looking for is the color of amethyst. I cannot tell you exactly what you are looking for in the cavern because I myself have never been there. All I know is you better be ready for a fight because the gems are never unguarded. Sources of great power are rarely left undisturbed.”

Lucian turned his back to Vornath. “Why don’t you just go get the gems? You have more power than I do. It just seems like poor planning on your part. What if I fail?”

Vornath hissed. “I can’t obtain the gems myself. I’m not able to leave hell where I reside. At least not without heavy scrutiny. Just the little time I took in Archanella offering you a bargain was questioned. Trust me I want nothing more than to forget you exist and to just go get them myself.” Vornath sneered. “And if you fail I'll find another weak adventurer and convince them to do it for me.”

The image dissolved as abruptly as it appeared, plunging Lucian back into the suffocating darkness. Vornath's words echoed in his mind a gem, a hidden mine, a place called the Jagged Hills.

Lucian awoke with a gasp, sweat clinging to his skin, the dream clinging to him like a shroud. The weight of Vornath's words hung heavy in the air, a dark promise that propelled him forward on this perilous quest. He had a new challenge – to unravel the mystery of the Jagged Hills, to find this Serpent's Maw, and to claim the gem it held.

The dim sunlight of the early morning shone on Lucian's face as he recounted his dream to the party. 

“Vornath came to me last night in my dreams I think.” Lucian recounted worry still on his face, “ he said the second gem is the color of amethyst in a place called the jagged Hills.”

Rance's face turned white. Did you just say the Jagged Hills? There are some mountains near the town of Riven that are called that but no one goes there. They just have an aura of evil and undeath.”

Rory elbowed Rance. “What are you scared or something?”

Rance turned towards Rory and stared daggers “Oh I’ll go. I’m just telling you when we all die you can only blame yourselves. So yeah, I’m slightly worried.”

Bidding farewell to the comforts of the inn, the group sets off in search of an ox cart willing to brave the rough terrain. Securing passage, they settle into the rhythmic creak of the cart as it rolls towards the north. The anticipation hangs thick in the air, punctuated only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the rumble of distant thunder.

The rhythmic creak of the ox cart lulled the party into a false sense of security. Kainith, the wiry bard, his fingers tracing familiar melodies on his lute, kept a watchful eye on the horizon. Rory, hand resting on his longsword, mirrored Kainith's vigilance. Rance perched on the edge of the cart, his keen eyes scanning the surrounding landscape for any hidden threats. Lucian horns glinting in the afternoon sun, his brow furrowed in concentration, skimmed the pages of a well-worn book.

Lucian shot a hand up and shouted, “I found it! I found something about the jagged hills.”

Kainith glanced sideways, taking his eyes off the road ahead. “Okay, well what do you got?” Then kainith looked puzzled. “Wait. Where did you get that book? Have you been reading this whole time?”

Lucian held up a finger making a shushing motion to Kainith. “Look here!” Lucian points at an image in the book. “This is the formation Vornath showed me.” He then moved his finger down the page. “And right here it says the hills are sickened with an Eldritch blight. All the creatures have been touched by the blight.”

Rance then piped up. “See I told you it’s not something to be joked about! Are you sure this particular quest is really worth it?”

Rory then walked over to sit next to Rance. “I told you Rance you don’t have to go. Me. I haven’t ever killed anything eldritch so I see this as an absolute win! Treasure and new things to kill!”

Suddenly, the cart lurched violently. Kainith's melody sputtered to a discordant halt, replaced by a chorus of startled shouts. Rory's hand flew to his great axe, and Rance ducked for cover. Lucian slammed his book shut, a flicker of infernal energy dancing in his crimson eyes.

From behind a rolling outcrop, a band of gnolls emerged, their guttural howls shattering the afternoon calm. Four monstrous figures, their bodies a mix of matted fur and mangy hide, lumbered towards the cart, their slavering jaws revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. One, larger than the others, sported a crude iron helm adorned with a ghastly skull, its fur matted with blood and grime the apparent leader of this savage band.

Rory leaped from the cart, his axe held aloft. With a thunderous war cry, he charged towards the nearest gnoll, his blade flashing in the sunlight. Kainith held his lute aloft and met the charge with surprising ferocity. He swung his lute with surprising force, the silver and glinting metal connected with a gnoll's skull with a sickening thud. The beast stumbled back, momentarily disoriented.

Rance, a blur of motion, darted between the remaining gnolls, his daggers flashing. One gnoll crumpled to the ground with a strangled yelp, another clutching at a wound that blossomed crimson on its hide.

Lucian, his voice laced with infernal power, unleashed an hellish blast. A beam of crackling energy erupted from his fingertips, slamming into the remaining unengaged gnoll. The creature convulsed, its fur smoldering as the unholy energy coursed through its body. With a final, ear-splitting shriek, it crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The lead gnoll, enraged by its fallen comrades, roared and focused its fury on Rory. Steel met flesh in a symphony of clangs. Rory, his strength unmatched, parried the gnoll's blows with ease and retaliated with powerful swings of his axe. Kainith, seizing his opportunity, used his lute like a battering ram, driving it into the gnoll's side just as it lunged for Rory. The beast yelped in pain, momentarily distracted.

Rance, exploiting the gnoll's vulnerability, darted forward and plunged a dagger deep into its exposed flank. The creature roared in fury, lashing out with a swipe of its claws. The attack found its mark, tearing a bloody furrow across Rance's arm.

“God dammit.” Rance shouted.

Seeing his comrade injured, Kainith unleashed a surge of inspiration. With a flourish, he strummed a discordant chord on his lute. A wave of disorienting sound washed over the battlefield, momentarily stunning the remaining gnolls. This brief reprieve allowed Rory to land a decisive blow, his axe finding its mark deep within the lead gnoll's chest. The beast crumpled to the ground, its eyes glazing over.

The remaining gnolls, leaderless and disoriented by Kainith's sonic assault, flead to not be the next victims of the party. The battle, though brief, had been brutal. Rory withstood the gnolls' fury, his armor dented and scratched. Lucian emerged unscathed, his face etched with the thrill of combat. Kainith seeing Rance being wounded sprinted over to him.

“Rance let me see what happened.” Kainith turned his arm over in his hands and saw four long deep grooves hatched into his arm with a crimson blood pooling on the wounds. “Okay this is nothing. Ver Nag Num.” Right as the words left Kainith’s mouth the deep gashes started stitching themselves slowly together. “See all better now," Kainith smirked. “Now if you could do me a favor and not make me do that in every fight? I feel like we are going to have plenty.”

Lucian, the infernal energy fading from his eyes, approached the fallen gnolls. He knelt beside the leader, his gaze lingering on the crude iron helm. With a muttered incantation, a faint blue light emanated from his hand, scanning the helm for any magical enchantments. After a tense moment, the light faded, revealing no hidden secrets within the crude metal.

As Lucian was doing in depth scanning Rory ran over to the now dead gnolls and was pulling off the little bit of heavy armor and weapons tossing them behind him looking for anything he can use. “This is all just junk.” Rory huffed. 

Kainith shouted over  at Lucian and Rory. “Alright guys. Let’s get back to the ox cart so we can get moving.”

Even with Rance now being healed he still was weak so Kainth helped him back into the cart. Lucian and Rory half jogged back to the cart before the driver decided to leave.

The town of Fallwind, nestled snugly north of Kernston, offers the familiar comfort of a small village. As the party walked through the busy cobblestone streets they looked at the buildings they passed.

Rance glancing from left to right increasingly seemed to be growing annoyed. “Where is the tavern? I want some ale dammit.”

“We will find it. Don’t you worry!” Rory roared with laughter. 

“Look right there!” Kainith pointed at an old weathered wooden sign. The sign had an exploding tankered on it and the name etched right below the image.

Lucian glanced up to the sign that Kainith was pointing at,  “The Exploding Tankard? Well that just sounds lovely.”

Rance sighed, “ Look, as long as they serve ale I don't care what the name is.” Rance pushed open the creaking oak doors. A wave of warmth and boisterous laughter washed over them, along with the enticing smells wafting from the kitchen. The interior of the inn was dimly lit, illuminated by flickering lanterns hanging from the low beams. Patrons of all walks of life, weary travelers, boisterous adventurers, and grizzled locals filled the common room, their voices blending into a comforting cacophony. The party found an empty booth across the way.

“You guys get a booth, I'll make sure we get plenty of ale.” Kainith gestured.

With a confident stride, Kainith approached the bar, a well-worn grin plastered across his face. "A room for the night, and four flagons of your finest ale!" he declared, slapping a hefty pouch of coins on the counter. The barkeep, a burly man with a thick beard and a missing left eye, eyed the pouch with a flicker of greed before wiping the counter with a greasy rag. "Rooms are available," he grunted, "but the good ale's run dry. Mead or hard cider, that's all I got left."

“Hmm. If that’s the case can I get your strongest mead? Four of them! Also do you have anyone around here who might be able to give us some information? We are looking for a specific place. ‘S called the Jagged Hills.”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, a flicker of recognition passing through his single eye. "The Jagged Hills, eh? Few folks go lookin' for trouble up there. But if you're interested, there might be an old hunter named Grimble who could point you in the right direction. He usually hangs around here come evenin'."

“Thank you dear friend!” Kainith remarked as he picked up the mead from the bartop. As Kainith walked away the barkeep shouted “Hey! Your room is the last one on the left.”

Kainith sat at the table and as he did Rance swiped the large flagon of mead. Right as he took a big swig he grimaced. “This isn’t ale! This is mead…Why mead?”

Kainith laughed. “They didn’t have ale. This will get you drunk all the same, just enjoy it!”

Lucian leaned in, “Okay guys I’m gonna go walk around and talk to people and see if I can find some information on the Jagged Hills. We need to find that gem.” Kainith put a hand on Lucian's shoulder to prevent him from standing up. 

“Just stay awhile and enjoy your drink with us. I got some information from the barkeep already.” Kainith leaned back in his chair. “There is a hunter that hangs around here in the evenings I guess. His name is Grimble. The barkeep said he’d have some information on how to get there.”

Rory piped up, “Wait, did he tell you what this ‘hunter’ looked like?”

Kainith looked down embarrassed, “Well I didn’t ask I guess.” After a moment of agonizing silence Kainith stated, “For now it doesn’t matter, sit back, take a few moments and just drink and be merry. The sun hasn’t even started to set yet so we have time.”