Practice masks Defect

After listening to, and learning from, his friends, Fortu realises that he’s not the only member of their group to have learned a few new tricks during their last few months under the harsh and multiple Calcientan suns. Arowe’s phenomenal speed and accuracy with his magical longbow has somehow, amazingly, incomprehensibly, improved still further and little Liga Bur, even before his Druidic rebirth, had focused on improving his rudimentary, though supernatural, animal summoning abilities. 

Rifkin, Henshaw, Barbella and even Doberman have also noticeably improved their skills, through a combination of experience and surprisingly dedicated practice, during their dead-time travelling with him and his friends. Having watched, gold toothed, Barbella, sneakily sliding around the battlefields, always ‘going for the soft bits’ or  looking to ‘Stab ‘em where it ‘urts’, the ex-gladiator realises that they share a certain understanding of human anatomy and vulnerability.

While he watched them train though, Fortu also noticed that the nimble Barbella mostly just practiced rolling about and dodging with Rifkin. The only obvious difference between the two of them is that Barbella did it with a dagger clenched betwixt his teeth and Rifkin whilst cradling his precious mandolin, as if it were a baby.

Henshaw and Doberman’s mock battles though, have become longer lasting and much more entertaining of late, with Henshaw doubling down on his awkward looking ‘crab-like’ defensive stance. Despite its ridiculous appearance, it’s remarkably effective but at the expense of a shockingly poor, though slowly improving, offence. Doberman, at the other extreme, just batters at Henshaw’s shield with little skill or regard to his own safety but with an ever increasing, bulging-eyed ferocity. In Doberman’s chubby, stubby fingers, Fortu’s gifted, enchanted Bastard sword will always be just a two-handed axe.

…

Actually, Moon-faced Doberman appears to have learnt very little from the last few months. He has however, seemed to have grown even more resilient to food poisoning since his last few bouts of projectile diarrhoea.

Please make the following changes to your henchmen…

Henshaw: 

Gained a level in Fighter:

(4th level Fighter)

4th level attribute bonus: +1 Strength.

+8HPs, +1 to hit, +1 Fortitude.

New Feat: Weapon Specialisation 

(Long sword +2 damage).

Skills: +1 in Climb, Jump, Swim / +2 Ride.

Barbella : 

Gained a level in Rogue: 

(2nd level Fighter/2nd level Rogue)

4th level attribute bonus: +1 Dexterity.

+5HPs, +1 to hit, +1Reflex.

New Class Ability: Evasion.

Skills: +1 in Climb, Jump, Swim, Balance, Hide, Move Silently, Tumble, Escape artist, Sleight of Hand, Use Rope.

Doberman: 

Gained a level in Barbarian:

(4th level Barbarian)

4th level attribute bonus: +1 Constitution.

+12HPs, +1 to hit, +1 Fortitude. 

New Class Ability: Rage x 2 per day

Skills: +1 in Climb, Jump, Swim.

The (Potential) Patron

Lord Urdurel:

Undisputed ruler of Stowan, Lord Urdurel was a very young, extremely ambitious and hyper successful Warlord, invading all the lands around him and rapidly expanding his realm. Only when he met his first wife, Dulcetta, did his attitude change, his heart soften and peace reigned for the first time in over a decade. Together, they retreated back to the capital city of Cotis, in the very heart of the Kingdom.

Their Daughter was just fourteen-years-old when beautiful Dulcetta fell ill to a mysterious fever and died, despite every possible treatment, blessing and magical remedy offered. 

A year later Lord Urdurel, ‘coincidentally’, met his second wife; Hetzabah and was instantly (and literally) enchanted by her and she fell pregnant within a month of their marriage. Hetzabah gave Lord Urdurel a son and a powerful ‘flamberge’ bastard sword and encouraged him to wage war once more, and for a time, he did but he eventually began to grow suspicious of her motives. When his first child; Lamenta was murdered in her bed, he ordered Hetzabah’s capture but she escaped and managed to claw out Lord Urdurel’s left eye in the skirmish. 

Sending out a dozen of his most loyal and trusted Captains, with orders to ‘stop at nothing’, the thirteen Witches were quickly killed, captured or driven out and with them, all of their evil thugs, thralls and followers. 

Hetzabah herself was eventually caught but even then, Lord Urdurel couldn’t bring himself to fully overcome her enchantment and order her death, even though she herself had ordered hundreds, if not thousands of rebels to be burnt alive in the years before by her personal executioner. Instead he commissioned the Gnomes of Mount Snaffang and a conclave of Human Wizards to bind her in his first wife’s tower and hide it away somewhere that it would never be found. 

It’s fifty years later and now he’s practically ancient by Human standards, yet Lord Urdurel, in spite of the physical failings that come with advanced age, has made amends for his past crimes, returned lands, forged strong alliances with the surviving nobles and surrounding kingdoms and still, solely and unchallenged, rules the realm that borders the untamed; Fey wilds.

The (Apparent) Allies

Rifkin: 

Born and raised in the backwards, sister-wife village of Loretto by his Human Mother. Rifkin’s Quarter-Elf, travelling minstrel Father was killed by his Mother’s close-minded, inbred relatives while she was still pregnant with him. Loathed by the villagers for being different, the teenage Rifkin took his Father’s mandolin and left the moment his Mother died. Though cowed by the constant beatings of his youth and timorous by nature, Rifkin still sought adventure and used his good looks, natural charm and musical skills to earn a living.

Estrid:

A powerful, magical and long lived Fey creature, beautiful but righteous, Estrid, as ‘goddess’ of the pool, guards the magical glade, deep in the Feylands. She protects both her people and the mysterious portal beneath the life extending properties of the crystal clear waters themselves. She granted the outlander adventurers ’Champion’ status and her protection within the Feylands in exchange for their help. Now though, Estrid’s concern and priorities have changed with the return of the adventurers and their alarming news.

Thornberg:

A haystack of a man and powerful member of the ‘Circle of the Scale’ Druidic order. Thornberg (and his gigantic bear; Bamse) has recently spent a year of his life in a bubble in time, teaching the Halfling outrider; Liga Bur, the secrets of the ‘Green’. He has grown fond of Liga Bur over those twelve months and wants to keep him close but still respects the scarred Halfling’s desire for both justice and independence.

Tsigan:

The Centaur Prince, initially an enemy, has become a powerful ally to the Party, alongside his noble Father and the rest of his semi-savage herd. Despite his rescuing of Rifkin, under the Calcientan suns, he still feels indebted to Fortu, Arowe and Liga Bur.

Magritte: 

The dashing but pragmatic Satyr has formed a liking and an admiration for the adventurer, especially Fortu. A nimble, talented warrior and potion keeper, he also has the ear of (the occasionally suspicious and often ferocious) Estrid.

Henshaw:

A mercenary from a family of mercenaries, Henshaw is lean, tall, surprisingly intelligent and, perhaps as a consequence of that intelligence, overly cautious. Although a self-professed ‘Bad-guy’, his recent association with Fortu, Liga Bur, Arowe and Rifkin has caused him to re-evaluate some of his previous life choices.

Barbella:

Lifelong friend of Henshaw, Barbella is a thief of the lowest order. A goatee sporting, gold-toothed mugger and backstabber, he is however surprisingly skillful in several useful areas and loyal, at least to Henshaw.

Doberman:

As dumb as he is fat, Doberman is almost too stupid to be considered merely ‘retarded’. Treated as an imbecilic but tolerated pet by Henshaw and Barbella, he is strong, round and relentless in a fight. 

Dijonn:

A small but psychopathic fire elemental, left behind in the desert oasis when the Party was forced to travel through the water filled passageways between dimensions. It has, however, sworn a ‘life debt’ to Liga Bur when he was rescued from a hundred years trapped on a meagre wick in the ‘Singing tower’.

Lightning Tree:

Though a monstrous, flesh eating tree, it possesses a fine mind and a surprising store of knowledge. It also, weirdly, considers Fortu its friend for sparing its life and still waits patiently in the Fey forests for his return with that promised meat.

Shananaghan:

One of the two remaining ‘summoning’ charms on Rifkin’s bracelet, the tiny but foul-tempered, gossamer-winged Pixie has decidedly mixed feelings about the Party. Non-Fey creatures, especially Humans, are the hated enemy but the goddess; Estrid has ordered him to assist the Party to the best of his ability when summoned and, although begrudgingly, he’ll do it for her.

Lorellie.

The second and last of the two remaining magical charms on Rifkin’s bracelet, the flirtatious, small, green-skinned and fin-toed Nixie is more Fey-curious about the outsiders than antagonistic. Physically weak but a powerful swimmer and natural water breather, she may yet prove vital in an aquatic environment.

Redemption Spark (Part Deux)

As Liga Bur walked into Thornberg's cabin, the burly druid looked up with a glint in his eye. "Ah, Liga... Your time with us nears its end and you have learned many lessons, have you not? Remind me of balance".

A confused look flicks across Liga's brow. Why would such an experienced druid ask such an elementary question?. But, dutifully, he answers nonetheless. "Yes, balance. All things in equal measure. You have taught me that every summer leads to a winter, each day will be followed by night, and that each birth requires a death."

"Correct, Liga, as I knew you would be. For every good there must be a bad. But do not forget that balance goes both ways. For very bad, there must also be a good. For everything you give, you should also receive..."

"Which brings me to why I asked you to visit me before you leave again for the 'real' world. When you joined us here you instinctively knew you would have to give up your worldly items for they would no longer serve you as a druid. But, just as you gave them up, now you shall receive them anew. I have taken your items and shaped them into forms more befitting of a druid."

With that Thornberg stands and walks to a closet in the corner of the room and slowly opens the door. Whilst the room is brightly lit by an unknown source, the darkness inside the cabinet is impenetrable. 

Unfazed by the darkness, Thornberg peers inside and pulls out a small leather jerkin. "Your old armour, whilst beautifully crafted, was far too shiny for a druid!. Instead, take this animal hide. Rest assured that the beast's life was well-lived and their death continues to serve purpose."

Reaching in again, Thornberg's arm vanishes to the elbow. "Your old silver kukri was a wonderful blade for a ranger. In truth, I could see the value for skinning and butchery - both of which are part of the circle of life and death.". When his arm reappears, a silvered glint catches the light. "But the blade was too sharp for my taste and so, speaking of circles, I have re-forged the blade into a sickle. Still silver. And still useful for harvesting, albeit of different 'crops'. 

Turning back to the cabinet Thornberg looks inside, then squints as if he cannot see, and suddenly takes a deep breath before leaning all the way in until the top half of his body is completely submerged! When he re-emerges, a thin cord is clasped in his ham-sized fist. "Ghastly thing!" he shudders "Where were we, ah, yes! Your arrows were simply too pointy. No good at all. But the bow had some wonderful string so I took that and added an old leather pouch I had lying around to create a sling for you. Just pick up any old stone from the ground and pop your enemies on the head with it!".

"And now, one last thing... Your old lance. Ugh. Far too spiky. So, I replaced it with something new for you! " This time, maintaining eye contact with Liga Bur, and with the wink of an eye, Thornberg thrust his hand into the wardrobe without looking and immediately pulled it back, clutching a staff. "But not just any old staff for you, Liga..."

As Liga grasp the staff in both hands, fire springs up along its length and a distinctive voice can be heard:

" 'allo? 'allo? Is me, Dijonn! I make ze flambée on ze stick for you!" 

Redemption (Sp)arc(k)

Thornberg raises his head above the parapet of the well and surveys the devastation surrounding the small oasis. Blackened branches tell the tale of what has happened here, and the wisps of smoke speak to how recently.

Dragging his heavy body over the threshold, Thornberg - somehow completely bone dry despite having be recently submerged - spies a small glimmer of red orange light out of the corner of his eye. Walking over and crouching by the embers he peers through the remaining, dying, heat haze to see the flicker of the smallest fire.

"Well, well, well... What do we have here? Is this the flame my new student, Liga Bur, has told me about?"

The fire flares for the briefest of moments and whispers desperately " 'elp me m'sieur."

Cocking an eye in mock surpise and wiggling his finger in an ear Thornberg replies "What's that now? You'll have to speak up I'm afraid!".

Hardly louder, but with an air of desperation and a flare in the coals, the flame whisper-screams " 'elp! M'sieur! 'elp! S'il yous plait - 'elp! I am dying!" 

Looking around casually, with no sense of urgency, Thornberg sighs "Yes, I can see that. Quite the predicament you've wrought for yourself here. A shame really. Not everyday you meet an anthropomorphic fire, is it?"

"And you were so helpful to Liga Bur and his friends too. Almost made think you were worth saving after your previous indiscretions, but I guess it can't be helped can it?" 

With a glint in his eye he whips out a lantern and places it on the ground. The flame licks out desperately, stretching to the wick but the canny old driud has placed the lantern just out of reach. 

" 'elp! PLEASE! I am so sorry m'sieur! For ev'ryfing! I can be better! I can help ze little man again, non?!"

Thornberg surveys the scene of burned destruction around him slowly and his voive turns serious. "Hm. Perhaps you can. Perhaps I even believe you want to. But can you be trusted to control yourself? Liga Bur left you with plenty of material to consume. It should have lasted at least until another party ventured this way. But here we are. You have gorged yourself to the point of death. And what, I have to ask, is to stop you from doing so again?"

"M'sieur, please..." The flame replies softly, "I 'ave been bad, I know. And maybe I can't promise to be always good in ze future. But I promise to try if you will only save me now..."

The big druid nods sagely, satisfied. "Honesty, indeed. Trying is really all we can do, especially when one has a nature as wicked as yours. But perhaps we all deserve a second chance now and then. And I must admit that the poet in me appreciates the symmetry of a good redemption arc. Very well, hop in here and return with me. You'll find Liga Bur much changed from when you last saw him. And - just to be clear - you will have to change too if you are to help him again.

As he stands and turns back towards the well, Thornberg swings the lantern tantalisingly close to the last embers and the tiniest of sparks make the leap to the taper and instantly burns brighter.

"Oh, thank you m'sieur! My name is Dijonn, by the way! And I promise to be good from now on!"

Holding the lamp to his face, Thornberg retorts "A pleasure to meet you, monsieur Dijonn".

"But I recommend against making promises you may not be able to keep..."

The (Primary) Villains

Sir Briefadel: 

Middle-aged and bitter, Sir Briefadel rules the small but fortified, Feywild bordering town of Scar Borough. He is the unloved and unwanted, only son of Lord Urdurel and a (apparently at the time) young and beautiful Gypsy woman. His Father; Lord Urdurel, rules over the entire Kingdom of Stowan but banished his son, at an early age, to the furthest reaches of his realm. After hiring the four adventurers to find a magical pool, Sir Briefadel betrayed them in order to save his (supposedly dead) Mother; Hetzabah from his Father’s imprisonment. During the chase, despite appearing to be a normal, if aristocratic, armoured Knight, Sir Briefadel revealed that he secretly possessed (much frowned upon in this realm) arcane powers and his Mother was much, much more than just a mere, innocent Gypsy healer.

Hetzabah: 

Dark haired and so eye-bogglingly voluptuous, every incidental jiggle is akin to a full blown ‘exotic’ performance. The second wife of Lord Urdurel, she was discovered, too late, to be no mere Gypsy. Instead it turned out that she was responsible for the (previously presumed natural) death of Lord Urdurel’s first wife; Dulcetta and, later, his teenage Daughter; Lamenta. Hetzabah encouraged Lord Urdurel to restart his stalled conquest of the neighbouring kingdoms and bore his second child; Sir Briefadel. Later, almost immediately after the death of his Daughter, Lord Urdurel discovered the truth and, despite her enchantment over him, still managed to drive out her witch coven, capture Hetzabah and imprison her on a different world, where she’s been held and perpetually tortured for a hundred years in that dimension’s timeline, although only fifty-years by Fissian reckoning.

Madame Morgarna:

Posing as a simple, flimflam, fortune-teller, this old woman is secretly a shrewd and powerful Witch in the, long-term, employ of Sir Briefadel. She was part of Hetzabah’s coven of thirteen witches, fifty-two years ago, that helped her ensnare Lord Urdurel and poison the Lady Dulcetta. The coven was broken up and destroyed by Lord Urdurel’s elite guard but many of its members, including Morgana herself, managed to escape. Recently tasked with reforming the fractured coven, she seeks to help her old mistress and more recent master succeed in their fiendish, possibly world changing goals.