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!"