Four Seasons in One Day

With one hand grasping the thick, wiry pelt of Thornberg’s huge brown bear; Bamse and the other wrapped in the reassuring, softer fur of his own hound; Mir Hundur, Liga Bur, after what seems like hours of silent plodding through vague, formless, earthy nothingness, follows the towering Thornberg out of the magical ‘Green path’ and feels the gentle rays of sunshine warmly kiss his face.

Unsure what to expect; Liga Bur had agreed to Thornberg's 'price' out of a weird feeling that it was somehow fated to be, as much as a way to save his friends from a potentially unwinnable battle. The bright sunlight momentarily dazzles him, but as his eyes adjust, he's pleased to see the old, winged dog; Dawk and the handsome adolescent fox sitting beneath the arching trees, waiting for him on the path, both of their tails wagging.

After stroking each of them on the undersides of their upturned chins, the big, bearded Druid guides Liga Bur to a beautifully tended glade, with a massive circle of stone Menhir’s arranged like pillars. There’s a small pool of crystal clear water and a comfortable looking thatched, wooden cabin slightly distant. Liga Bur notices the new, small and vibrantly coloured wildflowers freshly emerged from the lush and fertile soil; it’s Spring here… Wherever ‘here’ is?

Looking around, Liga Bur feels no danger. On the contrary, the battle-scarred Halfling has never felt such a sense of serenity. Birds sing in the trees surrounding the grove and succulent fruit hangs from almost every branch.  

It’s only then, that Thornberg finally speaks. His voice is deep and gravelly, like a man who doesn’t speak often and has grown unaccustomed to it.

“This is to be your home for a while. These four animals; my bear, your hound, the hawk-dog and the fox will be your companions and I will be your teacher and guide. Despite your, surprisingly thorough, basic training in the 'Green' arts, you still have much to learn, and although you must forsake your bow and your lance, this is far from a prison sentence. Rather than a punishment, I will share the secrets of our Druidic order and perhaps, over time, we will become friends. I do not say this lightly, for all our obvious differences, I believe in you. I believe in you because of the reports from my Satyr friend; Magritte, the Centaur Prince; Tsigane and the Frost giant; Droofin. I believe in you because this little adolescent fox and this elderly hawk-dog didn't just vouch for you; they championed you.”

The training is difficult but rewarding and as Spring passes into Summer, Liga Bur watches with pride as the little fox grows from cub to bold, young Reynard.

The Summer seems long, but the company is good and the initially intimidating; Thornberg turns out to be a surprisingly kind and patient man.

Summer turns to Autumn and with it the realisation that the grey in the muzzle of the old Dawk has spread all the way down to his rudder-like tail and his movements have become slow and hesitant.

Winter finally arrives and the snow that falls can't mask the sadness as the athritic Dawk finally succumbs to old-age.

Mir Hundur, the now adult fox and the great bear; Bamse all howl in the moonlight, as Thornberg lays the wrapped body of the strange, hybrid creature into the freshly dug ground. Liga Bur can’t hide his tears for this silly, brave and gentle soul. He’d grown fond of the kind-hearted creature and although he understood everything mortal has to die, the pain of the loss takes him back to everything and everyone he’d already lost and his heart breaks anew.

The bulky, brown-robed Thornberg places his muddy but reassuringly heavy hand on Liga Bur's shoulder.

"This is your final lesson. For every summer, there must be a winter. For every day, there must be a night. For every birth, there must be a death. For this is the way of balance and, now a full year has passed, you have finally earned entry into the Circle of the Scale."

One for All

The music and wine continue to flow but the massive figure of Thornberg, standing back in the shadows of the surrounding trees, finally makes his looming presence felt. His voice is both deep and grave.

“I’m glad that The five of you made it back safely from the void between worlds, but I also want you to know, that I know what you’ve done. Three members of my brotherhood have been killed in the last few months and I knew that you were involved somehow. Koenig, the Three-Quarterling and Zephir.”

The monstrous brown bear growls to reinforce Thornberg’s menacing tone,

“However, Zephir of the oasis was killed before you’d even arrived there and I cannot blame you for carving up his mindless, reanimated corpse. You had a hand in the death of the pacifistic Three-Quarterling but not the murder itself, but his father? You are, all four of you, responsible for Koenig’s death. He may have been over-zealous and acting far beyond his remit, but he was still a member of the Circle of the Scale and a price must be paid. Balance must be restored and although our creed is usually a life for a life, many voices have spoken up for you. From the little fox to Droofin the Frost-giant. As such, instead of death, one of your group must relinquish their current life and swear allegiance to our order.”

The adventurers respond very differently to this surprising news. Man of few words; Fortu reaches for the hilt of his indestructible sword, Rifkin opens his mouth, searching for a convincing argument to use in their defence but Liga Bur does the opposite, biting down to prevent himself revealing his true thoughts. It is the Elf; Arowe though, who breaks the silence.

“I’ll do it. To save my friends, I’ll join your Brotherhood.”

The bulky, bearded Druid’s eyes widen in response before laughing it off.

“Tis a surprisingly noble offer Elf, but the choice has already been made. The Halfling has already received rudimentary training and possesses a natural aptitude for our craft. What say you Liga Bur?”

The Ice Giant and the Snow Owl

After filling a second large barrel with the ice-holes magical water of 'Heat resistance', the sixteen-foot-tall frost giant; Droofin shakes the freezing beads of water from his braided hair and beard.

He backs further from the hovering waterfall portal and steps over the lower, second ice barrier, before addressing his fluffy, white companion.

"Vell Uurgle, thaat waas the loongest conveersation I've haad with eenyone oother thaan yooo in oover three years. I doo hope theey're successful in catching that naasty Sir Brieefaadel."

The large snowy owl blinks while perched on the heavy wooden sled handle and hoots dolefully in response.

"Doon't yoou woorry yoou greedy bird. I doubt wee'll haave to share anymoore of our dinner aagain for anoother feew years."

Dragging his now, mostly empty, gigantic sled, the two of them head back to Droofin's cottage fortress. The weak, watery sun is already setting as they get to the filleted carcass of the insectoid Remorhaz.

"I'll haave tooo catch and train anoother of these though, juust in caase... I shoould also report back to Thoornberg..."