[THE BROKEN CLOCKTOWER – SUNDOWN]

  Waterdeep’s skies are purple and bruised. Lanterns flicker across alleys. Somewhere, a bell tolls once—though the tower has no bell.

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  LOCATION: CLOCKTOWER RUIN

  The Clocktower of Final Toll, long colpsed, rises like a broken tooth of time over the edge of Dock Ward. Twisting iron cogs spill from its belly like frozen guts. The sun strikes the gears at the exact angle needed to make them glow.

  The moon is not up. But something silver hums beneath the fgstones.

  At the tower’s base:Renaer Neverember, hood drawn, cloak csped with the sigil of the Gray Hands (subtly). His blue-gold eyes flick to every shadow.

  He smiles when he sees the party.

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  FIRST TO ARRIVE — MEL

  Mel walks in like silence given form.Her long bck hair has been freshly braided down her back with three new feathers woven in—two brown, one white. Her scarred shoulder is exposed again, tunic torn slightly. Her Gulthias staff pulses with a low throb, as if tasting old grief in the bricks.

  Renaer greets her softly:

  “I didn’t think you’d come first.”

  Mel doesn’t look at him.

  Then she says, without blinking:“She followed me. That makes it mine.”

  Renaer’s gaze lowers. His hands clench.But he nods.

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  NEXT — THE TRIO? Daka enters shirtless under an open velvet jacket, gun tucked into a golden sash, hat perched like a crown.

  His Presence hits like thunder. One foot on a fallen cog, he surveys the pce like a pirate king reciming nd.“Looks haunted,” he says. “I approve.”? Melodia follows beside him—tiny, luminous, her cloak fluttering like gossamer in slow wind. Her moonstone choker pulses, and the silver flecks in her eyes catch the light. Her legs are bare but for thigh-highs and shimmer-heels, her lips parted slightly in focus. She hums a slow melody that holds the air still.? Krummar enters st, shield forward, scale mail clicking with purpose.His tattoos glow faintly with floral sigils. He whispers a name. A memory.Breya.

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  THE HANDS BENEATH — EMERGE

  From the gears. From the stone. From nothing.Seven cloaked figures step forward, each different: elf, tiefling, dwarf, human. Their hoods are blue-ced, and each wears a white thread on the right wrist—mourning cords.

  Sarayne, the copper-skinned elf from before, steps forward.

  She nods once to Mel.

  Then speaks loud enough for the sky to hear:

  “You carry her memory. We carry her remains.”They lift a stone urn, carved with root patterns and feather sigils.“But memory is not justice.”“And grief demands answer.”

  She steps aside.

  A circle is drawn in ash.

  “Each of you. One question, one answer. Speak her name and take your pce.

  If you lie—the tower will toll again.”

  (And when it tolls… someone dies.)

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  Codex: Trial by Axis

  A sacred Codex ritual—Axis Alignment under Judgment Ash—has begun.Each party member must speak Breya’s name aloud, answer a personal question reted to Trust, Guilt, or Obsession, and stand within the ash circle. The magic knows if they lie.

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  Mel steps in first.

  She kneels. Whispers:“Breya.”

  Question (Sarayne):“Did you know she was following you?”

  Mel:“No.”(Truth. Axis spike: Guilt +2, Obsession +1)

  The ash circle fres blue.

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  [THE RITUAL — CONTINUED]

  The circle of ash listens. The Clocktower looms. The memory of Breya sharpens like frost on gss.

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  SECOND TO STEP FORWARD — KRUMMAR

  He doesn’t ask permission.He just walks into the circle, heavy boots grinding ash, the camellia tattoo on his hand exposed. His armor gleams like moonlit oil, and his eyes—deep navy—don’t blink.

  He kneels.He whispers, almost reverently:

  “Breya.”

  Sarayne nods.

  Question:“If she had lived, would you have protected her the way you protect your party?”

  Krummar breathes in.

  Then says:

  “If I had seen her, yes. I didn’t.”Beat.“That’s my sin.”

  The ash doesn’t move.It blooms.Lavender.Codex 277 triggers. Devotional Echo forms silently. Breya is now part of Krummar’s inner prayer-grid.

  His Presence Score pulses to 9. A faint Glow curls off his shoulders.Those watching feel a shift—like standing in a chapel, but warmer.

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  THIRD — MELODIA STARWHISPER

  She steps forward like a moonlit ripple.4’8”, heartbreakingly delicate, every movement a phrase of music. Her choker glows faintly pink-blue, and her beret slips just slightly over one ear. Her corset tightens with her breath. She is trembling—but beautifully so.

  She kneels on the edge of the circle.

  She pces a small pressed flower—vender, near-dead—into the ash.

  She says, soft as twilight:

  “Breya.”

  Question (Sarayne):“Would you trade your voice for hers?”

  Melodia’s lips part.Her breath catches.The Glow around her freckles pulses hard. Lust Layer fres—emotional, not erotic.

  She speaks.

  “Yes.”

  It’s barely a whisper.But the ash sings.It emits a single clear note, like a lyre string plucked in heaven.

  Melodia glows.Visibly.

  A silver light rises around her.Codex 328 + 264 full-trigger. Presence surge. Emotional overflow.She is no longer just seen—she is felt.

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  LAST — DAKA

  He walks in slow. Velvet jacket unbuttoned. Pirate hat tilted.He stares at the ash like it’s a fight waiting to happen.

  Then he grins.Loudly:

  “Breya.”

  He doesn’t kneel. He squats, elbows on knees, hat tipped forward like a vilin in a romance py.

  Question (Sarayne):“Would you have noticed her?”

  Silence.

  Then he says, without a joke:

  “…No.”He lifts his eyes.“But I’d’ve caught her if she fell.”

  The ash pulses once.

  Then stills.

  Presence +1.Codex 353 (Swagger-Linked Axis Surge) quietly logs: “Beneath ego, weight.”

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  THE TRIAL ENDS

  Sarayne steps forward.

  She sets the urn in the center of the circle.

  Then, softly:

  “Then let her be held by those who spoke her name.”

  The ash rises.A wind no one else feels.The urn crumbles—gently—into glowing particles. One for each of them.

  Mel’s staff absorbs one.Krummar’s tarp hums.Melodia’s choker tightens with grief.Daka’s hand closes into a fist, then unclenches.He says nothing.

  ?

  Trial complete. But the Hands Beneath do not leave.

  Sarayne looks up.

  “There’s more.”

  From the shadows:A second group steps out. Armed. Faces covered. Arcane sigils burning faintly.

  Sarayne turns to Mel.

  “Breya didn’t just follow you. She was following them.”

  Mel’s head snaps up.The roots stir.

  ?

  Combat is about to begin.But this one’s different. Personal. Emotional. Silent.

  The ash remembers.The tower watches.Initiative begins… not with rolls. But with memory.