The air hangs thick and heavy, the stench of rot and decay clinging to everything. The muck underfoot is a sickly green-brown, bubbling with noxious gases that sting the nostrils. Twisted, skeletal trees claw at the sky, their branches bare and weeping a viscous, black sap. A constant buzzing of flies fills the air, punctuated by the occasional croak of unseen creatures.

It was in this wretched place that I, Thuzain, encountered an odd fellow indeed. Who am I to judge, though? Within the dilapidated remains of what must have once been a residence, its stone walls crumbling and overgrown with moss, I found Arkonn the Arcanist. A towering figure, this human-sized cyclops possesses a single, piercing eye that seems to hold ancient knowledge. His voice is a low rumble, like the shifting of stones, and he carries a worn leather-bound spellbook, its pages filled with arcane symbols. He claims to thirst only for knowledge, a motivation I can respect, and so we have decided to join forces. What a pair we make: a devil, and this intelligent, one-eyed giant.

Our newfound alliance was tested quickly. We were ambushed by frog-like humanoids, their skin a slimy, mottled green, their eyes bulging and yellow. They wielded crude, bone-tipped spears, and their croaks turned into guttural snarls as they attacked. They nearly overwhelmed me, but thankfully, Arkonn’s arcane powers proved to be a formidable defense. Tzadkiel was indeed looking over me that day.