Tear

Tear sits cross-legged atop a floating, glowing treasure chest, casually tossing a jagged piece of obsidian into the air and catching it with two fingers.

Right on time! I was beginning to think you’d taken a wrong turn at the third nebula and ended up as a decorative shrub in the Feywild. Perish the thought!

He hops down, his silver bells remaining eerily silent as his feet hit the cobblestones. He snaps his fingers, and a hovering parchment scroll unfurls between you, covered in shifting, glowing ink.

I have a proposal that is strictly neutral, moderately dangerous, and highly likely to result in you owning a kingdom—or at least a very nice hat. The local Chronos-Beast has swallowed a clocktower, and I need someone with your... unique lack of common sense to go get it back. Shall we sign in ink, or would you prefer a pinky promise?