Sokhassa Vipernox - Joining the Quest

A PC that didn't make it to the table, but one that I wanted to keep, around and maybe update at some point and use him in either a different campaign or if another character bites the dust.

So it begins

Hail to thee, my newfound companion — this humble journal.

'Twas in the afternoon's grasp, amidst Roland’s place in Midas, that fortune smiled upon me, allowing my hand to find this journal amidst the shelves of his emporium. The past days have been a whirlwind of activity, and I find solace in the ink and parchment as a means to untangle the threads of my racing thoughts.

Having perused Lirael’s journal again, I am granted a deeper understanding of the noble soul of my brother, who paved the way for the journey we now embark upon. Also I learned the importance of maintaining record of my exploits for those who follow, if I too should fall.

The weight of responsibility upon my shoulders feels daunting and perilous, with the backdrop of this quest unfurling before me. As twilight approaches, we find ourselves seeking refuge at Roland's abode, preparing for an overnight stay that hints at the mysteries to come. What lies beyond this haven, I cannot foretell, for the road ahead remains shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

Though after reading the journal I did find the Vial of Ambrosia, amongst the other things that Lirael spoke of and sat there debating to chance the fate that it might bring. I know full well that gifts like this often carry two sides, but at this juncture in time, being better able to use my skills is a necessary fact of the direction my life is taking me. Without another thought I downed the draught. While it was the sweetest nectar I have ever tasted, whether it worked the way that Lirael claimed it would is something that I will learn.

Now, let me recount the meandering path that led me to this juncture. A tale unfolds, and within its intricacies, I shall seek clarity for the uncharted chapters that await.

A Tale of Beginnings

Sokhassa Vipernox
Microsoft Bing AI generated image - 2024

In the shadowed halls of the serpent's realm, I, Sokhasa Vipernox, was born into the enigmatic embrace of our realms’ Yuan-ti noble lineage. Our ancient bloodline, a tapestry woven with the serpentine wisdom and the arcane mysteries, traced back through eons of secrecy to our creator - Merrshaulk, known in other lands as Natasha. From the day of my birth, I was destined to walk the path of nobility, serpent-tongued and poised as a Yuan-ti Pureblood (though in reality there is no such thing), in the gardens of our grandiose estate.

Raised amidst the serpentine court nestled within the southernmost ranges of what the maps of Crannog claim are the Golem Pass Mountains, my kind live in all climes, not just the swamps that we have been stereotyped to live. I honed the art of manipulation and treachery at an early age. For in the courts of the scaled, survival is often contingent on one's ability to dance upon the subtle coils of deceit. My father, Lord Vipernox, a Pure-blood patriarch steeped in serpentine traditions, guided my steps with a watchful eye, teaching me the ways of power and cunning.

I had three older brothers, so I was not in the line of succession and found myself being trained in strange ways for those of our people. It seemed that I had a different destiny.

Shadowfell

The first one was that I was sent to train at the Shadowfell’s Magic Academy in Evernight at the age of fifteen. I found myself in their version of the Quandrix College of Arts. I trained there for four long years. A blasted and one of dark twilight place if ever there was one and I couldn’t wait to finish my studies and return to the sun and winds of my beloved mountains. Still I learned much in those years, though friendships were few and fleeting. If I never return to the Shadowfell again, it will be too soon. Though by my being in the Shadowfell for those years, I was Shadow touched and gained abilities that I would otherwise lack.

Amongst the Fire Giants

Then before I had an opportunity to regain my status within the courtly games of deceit and power, I was sent to the realm of the Fire Giants and trained as a Rune Knight. My father paid handsomely for this unusual boon, but the shamans of both realms intervened to ensure that my training happened. Though my thoughts lay in other directions initially, to that of an Echo Knight, I quickly grew proficient in the skills of a Rune Knight.

While there the Giants had a Chalice of Power that had been cursed with poison and had killed four of their shamans. When I heard the tale, I asked to look at it, knowing my background they allowed it. I touched the chalice and the next thing I knew it was five days later. It seems that whoever had cursed it had only enough spell poison for a certain number of doses and I had drawn the last one, the worst one into my body. Thankfully for my innate resistance to poison, and I have never been closer to death. However, through my efforts their Chalice of Power was now purged of its poison and was usable by their Shamans again. The Fire Giant chieftain and the Shamans in a great ceremony presented me with a Belt of Fire Giant Strength and named me Giant friend.

After that, I was allowed to learn more of their and their kin’s runes than I would have otherwise, to move further into the mysteries of being a Rune Knight. In many ways it was a sad day when I left their realm five years later.

Beliefs Overturned

When I returned to our hidden kingdom in the Golem Pass mountains, it was as a fully fledged Rune Knight, deeply steeped in the powers and abilities of that class. It didn’t take me long to realize that I no longer fit within the confines of being a fourth son of the Vipernox noble house, one with a sense of honor so different from my kin.

In the shadowed depths of the serpent-haunted realm that is our Yuan-ti society, I began to tread a treacherous path, one that veils my true convictions beneath the veneer of allegiance to Merrshaulk. To all, I am a noble of influence and power, an embodiment of our race's cunning and manipulation. Little do they suspect the clandestine flame that burns within me—a fervent devotion to Bahamut.

My metamorphosis began during my time with the Fire Giants, with a realization, a profound reckoning that shook the very core of my being. The chaotic, malevolent teachings of Merrshaulk clashed with a newfound yearning for righteousness and redemption. The allure of a brighter path, guided by Bahamut's principles, whispered promises of change and salvation in my ear.

Yet, I understood the perilous precipice upon which I stood. To openly defy the teachings of Merrshaulk within the coils of our society is to court annihilation. My family, steeped in the venomous tradition of our people, would not understand the transformation within me. The weight of familial expectation bears down upon me like a thousand constricting serpents, urging me to maintain the illusion of allegiance to Merrshaulk. It is a dangerous game, one that demands patience, subterfuge, and a heart hardened against the whispers of doubt.

The Past Revealed

Yet, despite the secrets whispered in the venomous tongues of my kin and attempts to let me see the other side of death, just for being a Vipernox. A daily game of life in our family and from the houses below ours. Still a mystery lingered in the shadows of my heritage. It was a tale my father only dared to reveal when I reached the cusp of maturity and he knew that I would be leaving his realm soon.

In the heart of the serpent's realm, where shadows coiled around the pillars of power, my father, Lord Vipernox knew it was time to tell me his tale and then it would be time for me to leave the serpent’s realm. His gaze, laden with dangerous concern for our family's honor and name, bore into the depths of my conflicted soul.

On that fateful night, he unveiled the elusive strand of my destiny, telling me of a story of Redes, dark prophecies, and seducing to his bed one of the Behenny’s elven line at the behest of his sire and shamans of the realm. Something that had not been done before or since and never in the histories of the worlds had such a union produced an offspring - me. Then my father confessed the existence of a twin brother, another creature of both serpent and elf.

My mother, cloaked in the obscurity of her own choices and familial demands, had made a pact that had separated us at birth. The unseen threads of fate bound my brother to an unknown destiny to be known only as Lirael. While I, the firstborn, became the favored scion, basked in the privileges of nobility, the other was to have a different life. This revelation stirred within me a tempest of emotions - curiosity and somehow an inexplicable connection to a sibling I had never known.

Then he revealed to me the “Rede” that had governed my life from the start.

"In the annals of Crannog's fate, whispers weave the tale of a Shadow Touched serpent, veiled in mystery, destined to dance with destiny's threads. Born of an unholy embrace of Elf Behenny and Yuan-ti, he will the Shadowfell, then this rune adept shall tread mountains and paths of fire. Another, a Runic Knight to hold a torch in the light until his time comes. A harbinger against the looming darkness, embodied in one name Natasha and known also by another names, an ancient force awakening, desiring the rule of worlds beyond just that of Crannog or the Yuan-ti. His steps, swift as the night’s shadows, shall help unravel the enigma, a key to the realm's harmony. In the dance of shadows and echoes, the silent guardian holds the power to mend the fractures and stand against the encroaching abyss."

A Rede that shook me to my core.

However, the whispers of a sibling lost, blood ties that transcended the arcane secrets of our lineage, beckoned me to venture beyond the hallowed halls of our serpentine enclave. My father, a stalwart guardian of our family's prestige, sensed the danger beyond my quest for kinship. To him, the fulfillment of the Rede threatened the carefully woven tapestry of our noble lineage, jeopardizing the very foundations of our honor and place within our society.

The Crossroads

As I threaded the delicate balance between familial expectations, the call of blood ties, and my own beliefs. The journey beyond our enclave promised revelations that could reshape the destiny of our family and possibly our race. In the serpentine heart of power, where secrets entwined like coils, I stood at the crossroads, a noble with a clandestine allegiance to Bahamut, a prophecy that might proclaim me as more than I expected, and a seeker of lost kinship in the outside world. The currents of my existence threatened to unravel the carefully spun tapestry of our family's legacy, and only time would unveil whether my path would lead to redemption or ruin.

With a gaze that held both paternal concern and a glint of understanding, my father sanctioned my departure. The wisdom of his serpent eyes acknowledged the cosmic threads that entwined our destinies, urging me to embark on a quest to find the brother who shared my blood but lived worlds apart.

In the moonlit gardens of our ancestral estate, he bestowed upon me my family's ancient Two Handed Sword of Certain Death, an artifact passed down through generations, its surface etched with the serpentine sigils that echoed the secrets of our lineage. With a quick embrace that carried the weight of a father's love and the gravity of an unspoken connection, he bid me farewell. We both knew that it was the only path where I might still live. For if I stayed, I had only hours left of life in this realm, for forces had already aligned against me.

The Search for Lirael

My journey through the hidden realms commenced with my father's blessing, the tendrils of my heritage coiling around me as I ventured into the unknown. Through clandestine pathways and cunningly created entrances again, I traversed the veiled boundaries of our realm into the mountains of Golem Pass.

The quest to find my brother and my own beliefs became a tapestry woven with encounters both perilous and poignant. I faced challenges that tested the mettle of my serpentine spirit, yet my Runic training and the ancestral weapon bore witness to my determination. Through bustling cities and forgotten villages, I sought the threads of destiny that would lead me to the one who shared my birth.

With each step, I yearned to unravel the enigma of my brother's life, to witness the culmination of the choices made by the mother who wove our destinies into divergent paths. The quest, sanctioned by my father's silent approval, became not only a search for kinship but a journey of self-discovery, as I sought to understand the echoes that bound us and the legacy that awaited us in the shadows of the serpent's embrace.

Then I arrived in the city of Inverness and knowing that Magic Academy’s often hold the answers to difficult riddles. I asked for some information regarding one name Lirael, the person I spoke with quickly summoned a page, and I was immediately taken to the Headmaster of the Academy. Who I learned while talking to the page, was an Owlin. As I walked past students and others, I was looked upon strangely by many who saw me being escorted within the Academy. When I walked through the door of the Headmaster’s office, The Owlin, looked at me askance. He was speechless and I stood there waiting for him to speak, remembering the ways of the Headmaster at the Magic Academy in Evernight.

Learning of Lirael’s Demise

Then suddenly an old bearded elf suddenly appeared in a corner of the office. He looked at me in shock and surprise. The old elf said “Lirael you survived.”

I looked him over, he was dressed for battle, while also carrying a suit of armor similar to my own and other belongings. I said, “That is my brother’s name, but I am not him. What do you mean when you say survived? My name is Sokhassa Vipernox from the Yuan-ti realm in the Golem Pass mountains and I have come here searching for my twin brother that I have never met.”

The old elf looked at the Headmaster. Who shook his head, then nodded, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say just tell us what happened. The Owlin seemed to be still in a state of shock and speechless. The elf looked over at me and told me that he was sorry, and went on to tell the tale of how he had been teleported to Unvail when Lirael died, that he had masqueraded as a messenger and been able to retrieve Lirael’s belongings. He walked over to the Owlin and handed him what looked like a journal. Who looked around and asked us all to sit, while he looked through the book.

Knowing I would not get more from the Owlin, I looked at the elf who introduced himself as Thornandir Garland and asked to be called Thorn. He started to talk, but the Owlin held up a finger to wait. So, I sat there wondering what in the nine hells was going on, but I knew this much that my brother was dead and that brought up a wellspring of emotions. To now know that I would never meet the one who shared my parentage dazed me.

When the Owlin finished looking at the journal he handed it to the one named Thornandir a name from the past that seemed to be important. I started to speak and the Owlin said “Patience young one, all will be explained in short order.” When the elf stopped reading he sighed and closed the journal.

Choices to be Made

He looked at the Owlin and then over at me and asked in a voice accustomed to being followed “Please tell me your story, I have a feeling that the fates of Crannog may lay upon what you tell us over the next few minutes.” Please know that I am a Rune Knight as well and I ask upon your honor as one to tell it succinctly, but with honor.”

I nodded, seeing the runes on his armor and sword.

I told them my tale, as much as I could in about 10 minutes. I shared the “Rede” with them as well.

After which the one called Thornandir handed me the journal and said “I believe that this journal of Lirael’s should be yours after the Headmaster has it magically copied, because it has information that we will be needing in our battle against one named Natasha. Unfortunately, it is true that Lirael your brother is dead, that I saw with my own eyes.”

I read the journal while the other two talked quietly, I didn’t hear anything they were saying. I was too focused on reading my brother’s thoughts and hopes. I felt a sense of kinship with the words he wrote in that journal. I felt a flaring in my heart and mind to avenge the brother that I would now never meet. I finished reading the last passage and looked up, wiped a tear away from my face, and told them “Someday I will go to that hill outside of Silvaa to honor Lirael.” Thornandir looked at me and said “I would go there with you as well, Lirael showed honor and attempted something that few would and I believe his spirit needs to be honored as best we can.”

Choices to be Made

My life had changed drastically in the course of an hour.

I reluctantly handed the book over to the Owlin. Who reverently laid it upon his desk and made an incantation and another appeared beside it. He handed the original back to me and said “I believe that this should be yours. Thornandir came up and passed me Lirael’s Bag of Holding. They had decided to give it to me while I was reading. These are his things and after hearing the Rede, I have a belief that you will be needing them, some of the things inside are explained within the journal. Unfortunately, I cannot give you the rest of his things until we talk to the King.

The Owlin looked at the Elf and nodded. He went to the door and spoke to someone and asked “Sokhassa, would you come with us to King Garland’s palace to discuss what has happened, who you are, and what might come next.” Not trusting myself to speak too much, I nodded yes, and Thornandir picked up the armor and other things and came over to us. The Owlin reached out and touched our shoulders and suddenly we were on a teleportation ring inside a large courtyard.

A voice called down to us “Good day to you Lord Garland and you as well Headmaster. Thornandir looked up, chuckled and said “Thank you Donovan.” “We need to be escorted to see the King as we have news that must be shared immediately.” He responded “Someone will be right out to escort you all to the King.”

When we arrived, The King, an obvious wizard and another in odd robes were waiting for us in a private office. The King immediately hugged Thornandir saying “Welcome brother.” The Owlin shook hands with the wizard and started to talk. The being in the robe locked eyes with me, and looked deep into my soul. I felt as if I was being judged and after what felt like an eternity, in my mind the words came to me “You have been chosen.” I was passed a card.

Then I snapped out of whatever trance it had placed me under and the others were all looking at me in awe. I was bathed in a blue radiance which was dissipating. The one in the robe looked at Thornandir and said “You have other obligations to fulfill, now that you have brought this one to me. He is the one of those who is needed to stop the one we call Natasha, though the lad would call her Merrshaulk, and the creator of his race on Crannog. But fear not, for in his soul and heart the beliefs of Bahamut reside and he is blood of the blood.”

After that things were a blur, they then heard Thornandir’s story and my own including the Rede.

The discussion gravitated toward the revelation that Lirael's armor held the portal to Merlin's prison. With the untimely demise of Landriss and Lirael, the dynamics of the quest shifted from focusing on Gantz, to a new and perhaps even graver danger in Natasha.

In that solemn chamber, they grappled with the decision that Merlin must be freed and it was not one that could be taken lightly. He of the unknown spirit and agenda, which ran contrary to the Gods at times and he the ultimate betrayer of Natasha when she was imprisoned. He might be the only one with the ability to help below the level of the Gods themselves. Though trusting him completely is questionable at best.

Thornandir and I offered ourselves for the task to release Merlin. However, the King, with a raised hand, signaled for three brave knights to step forward. Already having foreseen this possibility from his Seer’s abilities, these valiant men had willingly offered themselves as the exchange for Merlin's liberation—an older knight flanked by two younger souls, their bravery unwavering.

Thornandir ventured into the unknown with the trio of knights. Moments later, he returned, accompanied by a figure that could only be Merlin—a pivotal turn in our quest, marked by sacrifices and the echoes of the three knights' sacrifice reverberating through the palace halls.

Departure and Disruptions

The King perused Lirael's journal, chuckled a few times in one section. Then in the wake of somber exchanges, Lirael's Bag of Holding was given to me again by the King accompanied by the weighty burden of his journal. Thornandir claimed his sword and shield, telling me that there would come a time when he would yield them to me. The armor, still the only known portal to the King’s knights, imprisoned comrades, remained in the custody of the King.

A heavy cloak of sadness draped over us as we departed the palace for Inverness. Our journey echoed with the unspoken grief that clung to our thoughts. The shadows of what transpired in Unvail loomed, casting a pall over our collective spirits.

Upon reaching Inverness, a conviction stirred within me—an unyielding pull to go to Seasonal. Thornandir, accompanied by Merlin, understood the gravity of my decision. After a quick meeting in the Headmaster’s office, we used the Academy’s teleportation ring to the Seasonal. Where we discreetly observed one of the chosen ones passing by. Merlin, wielding the arcane, cast an improved invisibility spell upon me, while Thornandir approached the Dragonborn whose name we learned was Darkvane.

Our steps led us to the Red Rooster tavern, where Merlin, propelled by urgency, stormed ahead. The door to a private room, slamming open to his impulsive entrance, resulted in a swift retreat, Merlin propelled back and prone into the hallway. Amidst the chaos, a female elf I now know as Princess Helena emerged, her voice cutting through the tumult with a stern reprimand, "Next time knock!" Behind her, growls and howls added a discordant symphony to the scene.

The orc bouncer we had passed when entering the tavern, responding to the commotion, raced up the stairs. Princess Helena, unruffled, instructed her to arrange for repairs and to add the cost to her tab, assuring that everything was under control. The threads of Seasonal's tapestry intertwined with our own, weaving a narrative that transcended the boundaries of expectation.

Unveiling Shadows

Once Thornandir helped Merlin backup, they entered the room. I followed suit, eager to unravel the mysteries unfolding within. Amidst the tumult of raised voices, chaos, and eventual quietude,

Thornandir chose the moment to reveal his true identity. Declaring himself as Thornandir, he knelt before Princess Helena, pledging his allegiance to both her and the King, revealing the sacred amulet as testimony. The Princess’s eyes went wide with emotion.

Then as a somber hush settled over the room as Thornandir delivered the weighty news—Lirael and Landriss, valiant companions on this journey, were no more. The gravity of their loss hung in the air, casting shadows upon our collective spirit.

Thornandir beckoned me forward, having Merlin dispel the invisibility that had cloaked me. In introducing me as Sokhassa, as everyone gasped he explained that I was Lirael’s twin, but had never met. That Minwa had chosen me as Lirael’s chosen successor and that I was blood of the blood. He unfolded the plan conceived by Minwa and the King to address the possibility of necessary replacements for those who are chosen and how I had replaced him.

Then he had me read that last entry into Lirael's diary, the ominous words scribed and signed as Natasha. His gaze, both sad and resolute, left no room for dissent as he emphasized the emergence of her as a new, possibly more perilous, adversary than even Gantz had been. Merlin concurred and started off on a tangent, which the Princess quickly stopped.

A swell of emotions cascaded through the room, marked by tears and solitude. Thornandir, in his wisdom, approached the Princess and Scathach in a quiet conversation that promised solace. From the fragments overheard, it appeared he offered her refuge at the Academy, a sanctuary amid the tumult. The threads of fate, intricately woven, unfolded a tapestry of loss and potential redemption, leaving us to grapple with the echoes of a fallen demi-god now arisen and the unspoken challenges that lay ahead.

Mysteries Unfold

Darkvane, our dragonborn companion, vanished at that instant. Merlin reassured us, claiming that one called Roland had whisked him away to assist his companions in their hour of need. Distinct echoes of a distant battle, muffled by the walls of the tavern, hinted at turmoil beyond our immediate vicinity. As we prepared to investigate, a sudden explosion ruptured the air, followed by a blinding light and an ensuing silence that gripped the town.

Curiosity drove the townsfolk, those who were here for the Games, along with our company as well, to spill onto the streets, craning necks for a glimpse of the unfolding spectacle. Before we could fathom the source of the disturbance, I found myself abruptly transported, emerging in the opulent foyer of a mansion beside a formidable Teal Dragonborn.

Inquiring about my role—whether as a combatant or guest—I received a reassuring smile. "Guest," he declared.

Guiding me through the mansion's interior, he ushered me into the company of fellow adventurers, the air humming with anticipation and the promise of unraveling mysteries.

Goodnight

As I bring this tale to a close, uncertainty shrouds the path ahead, but acceptance settles within me like a familiar companion. Tomorrow's enigma awaits, and I shall confront it with eyes wide open, anchored by the echoes of the mountains in my heart.

The call of sleep resonates, a fleeting sanctuary before the stage is set again. With the morning's arrival, bathed in the brushstrokes of dawn, I shall stride forward, poised to rewrite the narrative of my destiny—one choice, one challenge at a time. Though I do believe that the Ambrosia did weave its spell.

Until the first light breaks, then, and the unfolding chapters greet us all.

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