Author:

The Inscription (translated from the Coiled Tongue by exiled scholars; reading the original aloud summons faint, wordless whispers):

Long ago, in an age mortals have forgotten—before the chains fully rattled in the Abyss—a paladin named Kaelen Voss was chosen by Comes Himself in the dawn of the Age of Mortals. Sworn protector of Aetheron, the City of Eternal Wonder, Kaelen stood as beacon against the jungle's perils.

He became tempted by the One Who Does Not Speak. The Mouthless One convinced him that the Gods he served withheld the true Knowledge of Good and Evil—knowledge needed to heal the sick, uplift the downtrodden, and bring justice to the shadowed wilds of the Verdant Expanse.

When the great fires of Zin raged across the world, igniting wars that scarred continents, Kaelen raised his voice to the heavens with the Three Questions:

“Comes, Lord of Sky and Law, why do you permit your sibling Leuyer to drown the faithful in endless floods?”

“Comta, Lady of Wonder and Creation, why do you allow Idris to rain fire from the depths—can you not seal the earth against such wrath?”

“Edysus, Wanderer of All Paths, are you not omnipresent—can you not see the evil mortals wrought and stay its hand?”

Silence… dismissal. Nothing but thunderless sky answered Kaelen Voss.

Betrayed and enraged by this divine scorn, Kaelen followed the whispers of the Mouthless One. His master taught him forbidden secrets—the hidden flaws of the Gods themselves—and granted power beyond oaths. Kaelen raised a vast army of undying, bound not to Comes but to silent will alone.

He turned upon Aetheron, the City of Eternal Wonder built by divine hands, seeking to conquer and unmake it as proof against heavenly indifference.

War erupted—paladin against the Gods he once served. Comes, Comta, and Edysus descended in fury. The Mouthless One was shattered, his form sundered and scattered to prevent rebirth.

Kaelen Voss was spared true death and the Abyss's chains. His punishment was crueler: stripped of all god-given powers, cursed to wander eternally with full knowledge of his betrayal. His undead legions slipped his grasp, roaming the blessed jungles uncontrolled ever since—mindless horrors that slay without purpose.

He lingers still near the ruins of Thaloria, his fallen kingdom, clinging to faded titles of nobility. With the Gods forever silent to his questions, he nurses vengeance by seeking to resurrect his former master, the Mouthless One.

To this end he has become the unthinkable—a twisted thing of scale and shadow, barely a echo of the holy man he was. All that remains is hate, coiled in his new form.

Some of my kin—serpent-folk drawn to old promises—have joined his banner, believing his cause will birth a new age free of divine caprice.

Beware the jungle paths, seeker. The fallen paladin watches. The fingers gather. When silence speaks again, no oath will hold.

Serpent-Kin Marginalia (etched in venom-ink along the scroll's edge):

He promises us ascension when the hand reforms. But his eyes hold only void. The Mouthless One uses him still—puppet of a broken god.

Faded Explorer’s Note (charred fragment tucked in the urn):

The undead here move without command, yet they guard something deeper. I saw him—scaled, ragged, muttering to empty air. He spoke of 'the second finger' buried beneath Thaloria's heart. Gods help us if he finds the rest.