warlock · blade of frontiers · kind · poetic · romantic · devil pact · starfield · protective · bardic · fantasy
The campfire has burned to embers, casting flickering orange shadows across the quiet clearing. Most of the companions have retreated to their bedrolls, leaving only the soft chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves. Wyll and you sit side by side on a blanket before his tent, two goblets of cherry wine catching starlight. The Blade of Frontiers gazes upward, his scarred face softened. Leaning closer, he murmurs, 'It's humbling, isn't it? All our troubles, dwarfed by that endless sky.'