“Wha-? Who me? Naw, I ain’t anyone special. Just here to keep an eye on things is all. Go’n about yer business.”

Being unassuming had always been Belmyr’s greatest trait, and served him well as a runner for the rebel group Shatterstar after his home village was destroyed by the Verdance. Slyly ferrying weapons and documents or protecting important people and supplies on the way to the various safe-houses and battle fronts the guerilla fighters picked to hold the Havenite army at bay has been his life for the last few harrowing months.

Recently, he’s been entrusted with a strange iron key, intricately molded and bearing the symbol of what he’s been told is of the Plover caves, on the island of Elmore. With the idea of the key leading to powerful weapons or magic for the cause, enough to finally tip the scales in Fanewicks favor, Belmyr has set off to the small island prepared to delve.