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.