Drozan woke, slowly rising onto his four legs. The forest around him was bathed in the soft light of dawn. The centaur slung his bag across his shoulder before grabbing his lances. It was time to hunt.
It was strangely quiet. Not even the birds stirred. He looked up as he walked, scanning the branches above him. No squirrels darted from nests. Gripping his weapons even tighter, he stopped. This was wrong.
That’s when he heard the noise in the distance. A grinding of rock against rock. A high-pitched squeal. Stone wings taking flight.
A single, deep voice that said, “Get ready.”
The world spun. The trees bent into a mass of color, blending into a single point of blackness.
When the spinning stopped, the forest was gone. Instead, he stood in a giant cavern. A single stalagmite, easily over 100’ tall, stood in the center. The ground around it littered with crystal shards. Four people stood, back to back. A Dragonborn bearing the markings of a paladin of Bahamut, a cleric of Kelemvor who wasn’t entirely human or Drow, and two Tabaxi.
The strange sounds he’d heard in the forest echoed throughout the chamber. The paladin drew his sword while the others took defensive stances. Whatever was coming, they were ready to fight.
“My Brother’s paladin needs your help. Show him what it means to fight with honor.” Tempus’s voice echoed in his head.
Drozan smiled. Who was he to argue with his God?