Fairer Sharer

Without the surprisingly trustworthy Henshaw to help him, Rifkin counts out the gold coins by himself into seven equal piles. Seven equal piles for seven men? No, as the Triplets still refuse to accept any extra gold for their service. It still feels wrong to exclude them but he allots, as agreed, double shares to Banaal, Fortu and Liga Bur and keeps a single share for himself. Then, he sorts out the magical equipment. 

The two daggers are deceptively powerful but not really the style of anyone here. They could make useful back-up weapons though.

The glass web-wand is tragically, unusable by anyone here. It’s a bit like the ‘Burning-hands’ wand they got from Sir Briefadel’s fake Wizard squire; Egrow. Only usable by Wizards or those especially skilled with magical devices.

The poison vials are also dangerous to use, unless skilled with their storage and application. 

The twenty-four flaming crossbow bolts though, are usable by Fortu, Banaal AND the Triplets… Could this be another way of ‘sneaking’ them a little more help?

Despite still not using his, potentially cursed, magic ‘Vampire’ sword, Rifkin’s finger trails along Danté’s black, oily Leather armour. It’d helped him slip through Liga Bur’s entanglement spell but it was worthless to his teammates…

(After a few conversations.)

Current gold totals

Banaal:
Gold: 1606gp
10 gems (worth 100gp each)
4 gems (worth 50gp each)

Six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Fortu:
Gold: 1934gp
6 gems (worth 25gp each)

Liga Bur:
Gold: 411gp 

Rifkin:
Gold: 1550gp
7 gems (worth 25gp each)
+1 Leather armour (improved Slickness)

Ringo:

Six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Locket:

Six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Chape:

Five +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

+1 Heavy metal shield.

In addition:

Two +3 medium sized magic Daggers

Five vials of (handily labeled) Blue Whinnis poison

Wand of Webs

Fourteen Masterwork daggers

Fey Contract

As the strange, ethereal songbird disappears in a puff of pale blue smoke, the enigmatic Estrid examines the wax seal on the envelope left in its place. 

‘R’?

Tentatively breaking the seal, the tall and beautiful Fey woman unfolds the letter.

‘For the attention of Estrid; guardian of the pool. I have received your messengers and tasted your magical waters. I’m an old man who did not expect to see another summer but, as you know, war is coming. A war against a shared enemy. I’ve agreed to send you a battalion of my men; they should arrive within the month. Gods willing that it will be soon enough. I also agree to prevent any further incursions into your land from my people. In return, all I ask is that you maintain your current borders and furnish me with an ongoing supply of your rejuvenating waters. Regards, Lord Urdurel.’

The Satyr; Magritte canters over.

“Good news? We certainly need some.”

Estrid smiles reassuringly.

“It’s from the almost-Elf; Rifkin. I’m quite surprised how good his writen Sylvan is. The adventurers succeeded. Their Lord Urdurel has agreed to our request and we shall have our Human guards within one full cycle of the moon.”

The swarthy and hirsute Satyr pulls a worried face. 

“It’s been weeks since the adventurers returned through the pool. Do you think we have that much time? Can we really trust Humans to help us?”

The goddess of the pool smiles cynically and shrugs.

“Alas my curly-horned, cloven-hooved friend; what choice do we really have?”

Half-Casters

Of all the races of Fissa, from the Elves, Orcs, Dwarves and Halflings etcetera, the Humans are the ones most prone to mix their bloodlines with other creatures. Half-Orcs, Half-Elves, even the Half-Dwarven; Dueregar! 

It also isn’t just the bipedal creatures of the world. Beasts and monsters also found their way into Humanity’s gene-pool. The reasons were varied and the couplings were often brutal and uninvited but regardless, they sometimes managed to produce mixed-breed offspring.

Most of these couplings resulted in freakish abominations but, depending on the other parent, sometimes they resulted in marvels. The most famous of these rare combinations are Humans with Dragons. Just a drop of Dragon blood running through a Human’s veins, opens up the possibility of reality-bending Sorcerous powers. Spellcasting ability without the need to spend decades studying or relying on dusty old books. 

A lesser known combination though, also gives rise to magical talent and knowledge. If your bloodline has been infected by that of Fiends, then magic comes easier, but usually of the dark variety. The blood from evil Demons and Devils usually comes with equally dark thoughts and feelings. Rather than Sorcerers, this dark blood, in the female line, gives rise to Witches!

As for the unfortunate male descendants, they’re generally far less ‘blessed’. Their blood legacy is often just uncontrollable rage, omni-directional hatred and rabid self-destructiveness. They rail against the world and everyone in it, without ever understanding the root cause of their own dark motivations. Only the strongest of them, the most righteous, have any hope of overcoming their… unnatural nature.

Blood Ties

Deo’s protective growl wakes Fortu and alerts him of the repetitive tapping on their second story window of the Knot wave inn. Rolling slowly out of the comfortable bed, Fortu draws back the heavy curtain to reveal the tip of a broomstick gently rapping against the thin pane. Directly below, standing alone in the rain, is the broomstick’s mistress. Dressed head to toe in black, the old woman beckons him, unsmiling, down to the courtyard.

Shaking his roommate; Rifkin awake, the two of them quickly pull on some clothes and knock for the others. Once gathered, bleary-eyed, all seven of them make their way down the stairs, through the dark hall and unbolt the back door. 

Shuffling out, they stand ranged in a line, under the shelter of the eaves, while the Witch stands ten feet away, seemingly unfazed by the cold rain, her scraggly black cat curled around her ankle. Fortu, Liga Bur and Rifkin recognise her as the fortune teller from the Scarborough fair, but her ‘costume’ is very different now and along with it, her attitude. 

Rifkin opens his mouth to speak, but Megarna rudely silences him with a raised palm.

“I’m here to speak with Fortu. The rest of you have no immediate interest to me, but I promise; no harm will come to any of you today… unless you wish it.”

As she speaks, she gestures upward and, despite the darkness, the distance and the rain, you can clearly see the silhouettes of six similarly clad Witches, circling overhead.

Fortu raises his chin but doesn’t move forward. Instead, Megarna steps towards him, even as she summons her broom down from the window above.

“Against my advice, my Mistress has requested that I offer you this final chance to give up this pointless quest against her. I thought you seemed familiar when I first met you in my tent half a year ago. Hetzabah sniffed you out though, as soon as she first smelt you. Your blood is our blood. Demon blood. The blood that grants Witches their mystical power and connection to their Dark Lord. Blood you gained through our coven sister…Your Mother. If you join us, I’ll even tell you where you can find her.”

Unable to fully deny his interest, the unarmoured Fortu answers, low but steady.

“I’ve no time for your lies. Get away from here and take your stinking coven with you.”

Taking another step forward, Megarna pulls out an ornate silver box from under her black cloak and, with the click of a tiny switch, music like tiny bells, rings out in the courtyard. 

Before Fortu can say anything further though, the bristling Dwarf; Banal, grips his holy symbol and barks.

“You heard the man. Begone Witch!”

Unshaken, Megarna, grabs hold of the broomstick floating beside her and, almost provocatively, turns her back to the adventurers. As she scoops up her black cat, she deliberately places the expensive looking music box down in its place, before allowing herself to be slowly pulled aloft by her magical broomstick.

Danté’s Poisonous Legacy

After using up every healing spell he had on his Halfling and Human friends, Rifkin watches Banaal drag back the lead assassin’s corpse. Up close, the man looks near to seventy, despite his recent movements seeming to be that of a much younger man. His black, leather armour is weirdly oily to the touch and obviously magic of some sort… Probably the reason why Liga Bur’s entangling spell was so ineffectual. Likewise his dagger; the twin of the one Fortu had already retrieved by the waterfront. This one’s a lot cooler though; temperature wise. There’s also, several vials and a translucent glass-like wand. Both of which, because of what he’d seen, the Bard can guess at.

Human sized Leather armour +1 (slick improved)

Two +3 medium sized magic Daggers

Five vials of Blue Whinnis poison

Wand of Webs

160gp

Plus:

Twenty-six +1 ‘Flaming’ Crossbow bolts

Fourteen Masterwork daggers and 140gp combined taken from the Assassin corpses.

The Gods Above and Below

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