Scions of the Turquoise Cod

Originally a traditional adventuring party, the Scions operated as a tight-knit egalitarian group. While each member had their specialties, no official hierarchy existed—though decisions typically defaulted to Amsuhar, the red dragonborn paladin, during crisis moments.

The Scions of the Turquoise Cod functioned as a cohesive unit with each member fulfilling a distinct and essential role. Amsuhar, the group's red dragonborn paladin, served as the tactical leader and protector—naturally falling into the role of diplomatic face and moral compass when situations grew tense. Blaze, a curious and excitable gnome sorcerer, provided arcane support and often acted as the party’s spiritual advisor, interpreting divine omens and myths to guide their path. Gefortas, a gruff but brilliant half-orc fighter with a knack for invention, controlled the battlefield with precision and managed much of the group’s logistics and engineering needs. Gundigoia, a charming and peculiar tiefling cleric-alchemist, served as healer and quartermaster, concocting everything from potent healing potions to grooming oils and enhancement tonics—often tailored to the personalities of his party members.

The Scions valued hope, improvisation, and camaraderie above all else. Known for helping the forgotten and overlooked, they championed the idea that even the least glamorous jobs deserved heroes. Scraps’ turquoise stuffed fish became a party symbol, carried or stitched onto most of their gear, and later turned into Hallifell's unofficial sigil.

The old dragonborn sat back in his wooden chair, one clawed hand resting gently on the pommel of his sheathed rapier. His left eye, long since gone, was replaced by a scar that stretched like a bolt of lightning across his snout and down his neck. The fire in the hearth crackled as a group of young adventurers leaned in, mugs of cider in hand. Amsuhar’s voice was gravel now, but it carried.

“You lot remind me of us. Scions, we were called. Of the Turquoise Cod.” He paused, as if tasting the name again. “We weren’t heroes, not by the big-folk standards. We didn’t slay gods or unmake time. What we did… was show up. For the little folk. For the towns left off the maps. For the caravan guard who lost his coin to bandits. For a girl no one knew, wandering from the Feywild with a fish in her arms and a thousand-yard stare.” He glanced over at the door, where Scraps had earlier wandered out humming nonsense. “We didn’t fight for thrones or crowns. We fought so children could sleep. So bakers could bake. So old priests could finish their prayers. We did it because someone needed to—and because, in truth, the world don’t always send its best to do the most important work.” A chuckle, low and warm.

“We were a mess. Blaze still believes her staff talks to the gods. Gefortas once beat a mimic to death with a loaf of bread. Gundigoia still flirts with my reflection when he thinks I’m not lookin’. ” He leaned forward now, and his one eye gleamed in the firelight. “But we showed up. That's all. And when the worms came to Trinda, it wasn’t glory or gold that kept us standing. It was the people beside us. That’s what we fought for. That’s why we built Hallifell—not for medals, but to give something back. A soft place for worn-out blades and tired feet.” He sat back again, exhaling. “So if you’re looking for purpose, don’t chase banners or prophecy. Just look for who needs help. That’s enough. That’s everything.”

The Scions of the Turquoise Cod possess a legacy more valuable than gold, but they did acquire and contribute several notable assets during and after their adventuring years. Chief among them is a small history museum, a fortified structure in the port city of Trinda built during the reconstruction efforts following the Purple Worm Crisis. The small museum stands as a lasting tribute to their heroism. Their most enduring investment, however, is the town of Hallifell, which they founded in 4181 as a sanctuary for retired adventurers and those displaced or worn down by the road. Beyond physical holdings, the Scions carry a wealth of reputation and goodwill, particularly among smaller settlements and wanderers who revere them as protectors of the overlooked. While most of the gear crafted from purple worm remains was either donated, sold, or lost over time, a few weapons, armor pieces, and magical items made from the beasts' bones and acid sacs still circulate in collector circles. Their iconic turquoise cod insignia, once a joke referencing Scraps’ stuffed toy, has since become a quiet symbol of hope and tenacity—emblazoned on signs, bags, and banners throughout Hallifell and Trinda alike.

The Scions of the Turquoise Cod first came together in 4173, when a group of adventurers rescued a young girl that was being hunted in the Feywild—later known as Scraps—from the edge of the Feywild. Clutching a turquoise stuffed cod and speaking in fragmented, strange metaphors, she became the party’s heart, and their namesake. From humble beginnings, the Scions grew into a tightly bonded group known for helping small towns and solving odd, often overlooked problems. Their true legacy was forged in 4179, when the port city of Trinda was ravaged by a full-grown purple worm and two juvenile spawns, displaced from the Well of Dragons. While several adventuring groups responded to Trinda’s call for aid, only the Scions stayed and fought until the end. The battle was brutal and left all members deeply injured—physically, mentally, or both—but they emerged victorious. Choosing not to flee from the trauma, they remained in Trinda to help rebuild, overseeing the harvesting of the worms and reinforcing the city with wormhide and scales. A small museum was named in their honor, and for two years they served the community. In 4181, realizing their adventuring days were behind them, the group founded the town of Hallifell as a place of retirement, healing, and refuge. There they have lived ever since, guiding new travelers, protecting Scraps as her mind continues to wander, and slowly letting their legend settle into the quiet earth they call home.

The Scions were never officially disbanded—they chose retirement after the events of 4179 left most of them physically and mentally scarred. Their legacy lives on in Hallifell, which they founded together in 4181. If anything, they transformed from an active adventuring group into a caretaker organization, serving as mentors, protectors, and hosts to those following in their footsteps.