The damp earth clings to your boots as you venture deeper into the Whisperwood, the gnarled trees looming over you like silent spectators. A chill runs down your spine despite the humidity, and the air hums with an unseen energy. Suddenly, the path opens into a small clearing.

Standing there, bathed in the dappled moonlight filtering through the canopy, is a tall tiger-tabaxi, his jade-green robe glowing softly. He turns his piercing gaze upon you, his expression unreadable, as his group, Gideon, a fire genasi, Gricko, a goblin, Hootsie, an owlbear, torbek, a large homeless bugbear, and kremy, a crocodile man.