Gift wrap

Returning to Cottis, not just once but twice in the last few months, has been a bitter-sweet experience. Banaal had spent over ten years of his formative years here and had strong memories of Lord Urdurel and Lady Dulcetta, although from a child’s perspective.

His memories of Lamenta though were much stronger. From when she was a baby until, though about six years younger, she’d stood taller than him. They’d been inseparable best friends throughout the decade he’d spent in the Human lands. She was bright, warm and full of life and he had loved and protected her as if she’d been his little sister. Even now, he still can’t quite believe she’s dead. Not just dead but fifty-years interred in the dark, cold earth.

Lord Urdurel, though much older now, had welcomed him back with open arms and immediately shared his knowledge of the vile Hetzabah’s escape and the strange band of adventurers pursuing her. He’d then asked him to seek out these adventurers and bring them back to him.

A task he was more than happy to accept.

Now though, after successfully completing that mission, he stands alone in his luxurious and secure room in the castle and admires his reflection in the full-length mirror.

As a reward, Lord Urdurel had given him a cloak of sorts. A long cape-like wrap, so delicate it’s barely there at all. A wrap so fine, it looks more like a gossamer spider’s web draped over his broad shoulders.

This cobweb cloak though doesn’t tear to the touch. Instead it tears through the ethereal plane and allows its wearer to weave between them.

This gift of Lord Urdurel’s; a gift literally off of his own back, is probably worth more than all the gold that Banaal’s ever seen. 

Probably double that! Triple!! 

And despite that, considering the cloaks subtle power and who they’re going to eventually face, he thinks that its original cost, whatever it was, may yet prove to be a bargain!

Three Score and Seven Years Ago

The extremely impressive, Moradin mantled, Dwarven couple enter the much less impressive, blocky Human tower. Behind them, holding onto his Father’s trailing robe, scampers a very shy and very young Dwarven child. They’re led up the stone steps and announced to the waiting Lord Urdurel and his young wife; Lady Dulcetta. The beautiful, flaxen-haired woman smiles up at her husband before he addresses the two Dwarven ambassadors.

“Welcome to Cottis; the capital of Stowan and, soon to be, the greatest city in all the world!”

It’s the bigger-bearded of the two that answers, as his wife squeezes his meaty hand in a subtle warning not to be too facetious in his response.

“It is indeed an honour to be invited to oversee this massive… by Human standards, project. Our team of architects and stonemasons will do our best to create a metropolis that surpasses anything Human eyes have ever seen.

Sensing her husbands rising annoyance at their, barely concealed conceit, Lady Dulcetta stands, revealing her bulging pregnancy.

“We’re sure that our combined efforts will result in an awe inspiring marvel that will last the ages, and I hope our children will become firm friends over the coming decade.”

Slightly taken aback, the lesser-bearded of the two Dwarves, smiles warmly and honestly.

“I’m sure little Banaal here will love acting as guardian to your baby, once he or she arrives.”

Lord Urdurel, though remaining seated, also smiles. He knows that it’s only his gold that’s persuaded the Dwarves to send their artisans and emissaries, but he also understands that it’s only with their help, that he can create the towering wonder he wants to build here. 

“It would indeed be a blessing for our coming child to have such a stout defender as brave Banaal.”

Peeping out from behind his Father, Banaal puffs out his little chest in pride. He’s already determined that he’ll do his upmost to protect this fragile Human baby from whoever, or whatever, seeks to do them harm. 

Banaal's Diary : Entry #431

My thoughts turn back to Argentia always. Being just 6 years old when my parents were recruited to help build Cottis, Lord Urdurel's vanity city. I will never forget Lamenta - we were unlikely childhood friends.  Lord Urdurel and Dulcetta were doting parents and that time was full of fun. It is terrible to think what happened to them.

Now, so many years later the great Lord is building an army to stand against his son, corrupted by his witch mother.  I must understand who these people are and if they know more about Briafadel and his plans. Maybe it might even help to persuade the Dwarves to join the cause?

A Matter of Wife and Death

Head buried in his hands, Lord Urdurel weeps for only the third time in his life. The first time he was just fourteen, watching his parents slaughtered. The second time at forty-seven, when his beloved first wife; Dulcetta died of a mystery illness and now at forty-nine.

Lamenta is dead. His daughter. The last remaining light in his life.

Looking up at Commander Aglet, his blue eyes burning with tears and anger, his mind finally clears.

Dulcetta’s mysterious death, Hetzabah’s sudden appearance, Briefadel’s birth and Lamenta’s murder… it was all connected. Now, in this moment of clarity, it all becomes obvious; Hetzabah had just used him to gain power for herself and her mewing baby boy but it was Dulcetta and Lamenta who’d paid the ultimate price.

“What do you mean, ‘Hetzabah’s left the castle?’. Send a couple of your men to her chambers and drag her to me!”

Castilian Aglet steels himself before responding.

“We went to her chamber immediately after you discovered her halving of Lady Lamenta’s guard but she’d already left in a hurry. Such a hurry that she’d abandoned your infant son in the arms of his wet-nurse.”

Lord Urdurel stops at this news. His son; Briefadel. He’d strangely felt nothing but resentment when Hetzabah became pregnant immediately on their wedding night and he felt nothing for the boy now. Still, he was an innocent and not responsible for his Mother’s crimes.

His eyes suddenly dry and his voice icy, he gives a new order.

“Select a squad of your twenty best men and have them join me, fully armed, in the courtyard. I’m going to find her myself and make her pay for every atrocity she’s committed against me and our people.”

Innocence Lost

Lamenta’s beloved and kind-hearted mother, Lady Dulcetta had died at just thirty-three years of age. As cruel fate would have it, precisely the same age as Lord Urdurel had been when they’d first met and fallen in love. Since her death though, everything had changed dramatically for the worse.

Life in a cage, no matter how gilded, is mere existence. Since her Mother’s premature death, her Father, Lord Urdurel had cut her off from everything and everyone she’d known, except for her Mother’s now, long-in-the-fang, deer-hound; Belvedere. Her Father treated her as if she were suddenly too delicate to face the world, as if she were made of the fragilest crystal. A situation that had only grown more wretched since her Father suddenly remarried a woman with obvious evil intent, even though he seemed completely incapable of seeing it. He was infatuated with his dark-locked and voluptuous new bride, to the point that he hadn’t even seemed that interested in her newborn half-brother; Briefadel.

Lord Urdurel, under the thrall of Hetzabah, had returned to his warring ways, blind to the objections of his advisors or the suffering of his own people.

Lady Lamenta’s life had been reduced down to that of little more than a prisoner, kept hidden away in her dead Mother’s tower under lock and key. She was sixteen now but there was nothing sweet about her situation.

The Commander of the guard; Captain Aglet had recently halved her protection detail, on the instructions of her step-mother but then immediately reinstated it, on the orders of her suspicious Father, with twice the number of men as before. He’d even stationed an armed guard immediately outside her bedroom chamber door. 

This was the second week and there was a change in soldiers. Her new door guard; Padrik, was fair-haired, fresh-faced and handsome, perhaps only a year or two older than herself. Even though she knew he was instructed to keep his eyes to himself, she couldn’t help teasing him with glimpses of a bare ankle or an, accidentally revealed, shoulder.

That night though, something was wrong. She’d changed into her nightgown and stepped over the multiple, concentric, magical protection circles etched around her Mother’s old bed and wriggled under the silk sheets. With her big, old dog lying at her feet, her dreams were no longer haunted by evil witches or giant, shadowy horses, but Lamenta still felt a cold wave of anxiety in her stomach as Belvedere abruptly twitched awake and started to growl. 

Slipping quietly out of bed and heading to the iron caged balcony, she thought of the young man standing guard just outside her door. She knew he wasn’t allowed to leave his post but she needed someone close. Then, in the darkness of the walled garden below, she saw a flash of a steel blade and could hear someone beginning to scale the wall. The balcony was protected and her windows were barred but certain magics could easily overcome mundane iron, no matter how thick.

Paralysed with fear, she tightly clutches her loyal hound in fear and calls out.

“Guard! Guard!”

Almost immediately, Lamenta sees the shadow of her young protector fall across the frosted glass panels of her bedchamber door and she hears him whisper…

“My Lady?”

Then, before she can reply, another shadow looms up behind him on the other side of her bedroom door, followed immediately by the splatter of Padrik’s dark arterial blood across the glass. 

This is when the sixteen-year-old Lady Lamenta screams, 

Despite his advanced age, the boney but still pony-sized Belvedere stands bravely, fangs bared and hackles raised, between his young Mistress and the door, but when the two black-clad Assassins pass like smoke through the, still locked, barrier, there’s nothing the dog can do beyond dying by their wickedly curved blades.

Lasting barely a few moments longer than her slaughtered dog, despite her pleading, Lamenta‘s pitiful screams are quickly silenced by the merciless killers.

The kind-hearted and innocent young woman’s last words are…

“Father!”

Dulcetta’s Decidedly Deadly Dreams

Happiness is ever elusive and always fleeting and the joy that King Urdurel felt, although sublime, was dependent, absolutely, on the love he felt for his young wife; Dulcetta and consequently, on the love she openly returned to him.

From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he was a changed man. No longer driven by the need for conquest, his raging heart had been instantly quelled to the point of conciliation with those nations he’d so recently waged war upon.

Despite giving up his rightfully earned, battle-won and blood soaked title, the now; Lord Urdurel maintained his castle stronghold in Cottis and still retained power over Stowan and the surrounding conquered kingdoms but now they flourished under his newly benevolent stewardship. 

Then though, after the birth of their perfect daughter and fifteen years of joy and peace, beautiful Dulcetta fell suddenly ill. It was subtle at first, just fractious sleep and fevered dreams. 

She sought solace in her daily horse rides, walking her loyal hound; Belvedere and spending time with her beloved daughter; Lamenta, but nothing soothed her tortured soul, and then, over the next few months, it became worse. Much worse.

Paranoia, violent outbursts and self-harm. She’d awake in the night, drenched in sweat and screaming, as if pursued by black-hearted hags in her terrifying nightmares. 

Despite all Lord Urdurel could do, all the healers, priests and sorcerers he drafted in to help, his beloved wife lost her mind and her enfeebled, frail body soon followed.

After just a few months of failing health and mental anguish, all that was left of Dulcetta, was her grieving fourteen-year-old daughter and a husband, broken and overcome with rage anew.

The Fifteen Year Onslaught

Sitting tall in the saddle atop his large, heavily barded and well trained warhorse, King Urdurel glances sidelong across the first rank of his armoured lancers. They face the opposing army flanked by hundreds of loyal foot-soldiers and archers. This was to be the last battle in his decade-and-a-half campaign. Five of the six kingdoms along his border had already fallen but this final one had proven to be the most resistant.

After each battle, each victory, King Urdurel offered the best of the vanquished a place at his side. All they had to do was swear absolute fealty to him and, when offered the headsman’s axe as the alternative, most did. And so, with each triumph, his army grew considerably larger and more powerful.

Leading his opposition, less than a thousand yards away across the valley, two figures, armoured in the silver their land is renowned for, stand beside the large tent displaying their colours. Two figures of about the same age as King Urdurel was when he killed King Vagitus. A young man and a young woman. Twins. Their army is impressive and large enough to offer a real challenge to his own armed forces. King Urdurel was confident of a victory, but the lay of the land offered no strategic advantage to either side and, regardless of tactics, hundreds, if not thousands of men would die this day.

Much to King Urdurel’s surprise though, the twins mount their horses and, riding under a white flag, without guards, gallop toward him.

Intrigued rather than intimidated, the Stowanian army part before them and, once dismounted, escort them to King Urdurel’s own command tent.

Inside, King Urdurel receives them with only two of his most trusted captains for protection.

The two nobles remove their plumed, silver helmets in the kind of coordinated motion only twins are capable of. They’re both tall and beautiful, with pale blond hair and eyes as blue as sapphires. It’s the young man who speaks first but King Urdurel can hardly drag his gaze away from the young woman. A woman barely half his age.

“King Urdurel, we are here to broker a peace between our Kingdoms.”

King Urdurel laughs.

“Peace? I don’t want peace. I want to see your parents’ heads on spikes. I want to see your skull crushed beneath my iron heel. I want all the fabled silver in your land transferred to my own coffers.”

Then the young woman takes her turn.

“Our parents are dead. My twin brother and I now lead our people and we would not have them die on this field. Take our silver, make our realm a vassal state and rule over us, but don’t let your bloodlust go any further.”

King Urdurel stops laughing.

“Why should I do that? What assurances would I have that you wouldn’t just plot against me from your position of safety?”

It’s the young queen who responds again, her voice sweet but firm.

“You leave my brother; Lucius here to govern in your name and I will submit to you as your prisoner. If my brother makes a move against you, no matter how seemingly insignificant or subtle, you can have my head.”

Taking her in, from her delicate features to her slender but obviously shapely frame under her ornate armour, King Urdurel stops, amazed with himself that he’s actually considering her proposition.

“What is your name?”

The beautiful young woman, sensing a glimmer of hope, smiles faintly for the first time. A smile so warm, so disarming, that King Urdurel’s heart seems to stop mid- beat within his chest.

“My name? My name is Dulcetta.”

The Perfect Match

It was a strange deal that he’d made with the large Druid. An enchanted, inexhaustible ironwood staff to subsist on indefinitely at the cost of the loss of all independent movement.

A harsh bargain, but Dijonn had been in an extremely poor, literally last gasp, negotiating position at the time…

Die now or live forever as a slave.

Eternal life was an odd concept for a fire elemental. Flames generally burn fast and furiously but not usually for very long. Would he become bored of the board he’d be eternally attached to? Could he, one day, become tired of life everlasting?

These thoughts though, were for another day. It was surprising however that Thornberg had come to trade, not for himself, but for the Halfling that he’d already previously sworn servitude to, for freeing him from the hundred years trapped in Dulcetta’s accursed tower prison.

Even more surprising was how much Liga Bur had changed in the mere four hours since they’d last seen each other. Flesh creatures were hard to understand sometimes but his Halfling saviour had seemed to have undergone an equally profound mental, emotional and physical transformation. 

It was impossible to predict if this new partnership would prove successful, but by tethering his flaming self to the top of this magical, blackened-tipped quarterstaff, Dijonn had managed to unlock a plethora of new and interesting abilities…

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 (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.

The Circle of the Scale

A brief three chapter recap…

Module 1: The Rat King

The recently freed Human Gladiator; Fortu, the thrill seeking Elven Archer; Arowe and the Orc raised Halfling Tracker; Liga Bur met up, travelling on foot through the region of, magic-use-restricted, Stowan, toward Scar Borough. Though cautious at first, they found themselves bonding after rescuing a naked, demi-elven Bard; Rifkin from a band of bandits, lead by the Afro-haired; Spider Murphy. Only he escaped the slaughter by taking to the trees, after swearing his revenge on Rifkin.

In town, the newly formed, four-man, Party encountered the usual corrupt town guards and spent some time at the town fete, where they met a worryingly convincing fortune teller; Madame Morgana, a troop of acrobat Halflings and several travelling merchants, including potion seller; Al-Khemi.

Then, hired as a group by the leader of the small town; Sir Briefadel, to discover what happened to Rat-catcher; Hamlyn and why an outlying tannery hadn’t made two scheduled deliveries. The Party found everyone dead, including the hung-by-the-neck; Hamlyn and were soon set upon by a crazed old Druid leading a mass of rats of various sizes. The battle was fierce but, despite being bitten and infected, the four adventurers managed to kill Koenig and survive. On their return to town, they passed on a map they’d found and the magical set of ‘rat summoning’ panpipes to Sir Briefadel.

Module 2: The Wolf Pact

Impressed by the Party’s tenacity, Sir Briefadel recruited them to accompany himself and his personal Wizard; Egrow-the-Magnificent, to find the magical pool deep within the Feylands shown on the map. 

During their horseback (aside from the Mir Hundur riding Liga Bur) journey, they encountered wild boars, bears and a little fox before finally arriving at a hidden glade. Once there, they battled strange hybrid creatures, such as the owl-horse; Howl, the orc-scorpion; Scorcion and the half-halfling, half-human; Three-Quarterling. Sir Briefadel took great delight in crushing the pacifistic, in-a-fish-form Three-Quarterling and killing him. Slightly disturbed by his behaviour, the Party searched the Three-Quarterling’s comfortable and fortified den. Enraged by finding ‘the wrong pool’ Sir Briefadel commissioned the Party to search on without him, as he rode back with Egrow to Scar Borough.

Travelling on with a rescued, old hawk-dog; Dawk, the Party encountered a tribe of Centaurs lead by the handsome; Prince Tsigan and after sparing their lives, were invited back to speak to his Father and chief; Rozinante. Though suspicious, the Party were welcomed and actively helped by the inner group of malformed Centaurists.

Next came a malevolent talking tree and then a wolf-pack, led by the Werewolf; Kane. Those battles were hard and the Party were lucky to escape unscathed. Then came the Dryad archer ambush and the discovery of the second magical pool and its Fey goddess guardian; Estrid.

But before trust could be earned from either side, the glade was overrun with Human soldiers! Sir Briefadel had planted a small scrying device, hidden in one of the horses saddlebags and used his Witch ally; Morgana to help him create a portal, linking Estrid’s glade to the Courtyard in Scar Borough. The battle was fierce and brutal with the tiny Fey Pixies, Nixies and Dryads trading their lives for their Queen. Realising the treachery, Fortu found himself fighting back-to-back with the charming Satyr, Magritte and Liga Bur and Arowe picking off the Human soldiers from protected positions atop the rocky formations. Despite their ‘cold-iron’ weapons though, the Human soldiers were quickly overwhelmed and it became apparent that they were just being used as a distraction so Sir Briefadel could reach the pool unconfronted. He and his, suspiciously clever Hawk, successfully made it through the hidden dimensional gateway, deep below the pool but the ‘Wizard’ Egrow was caught and stopped by Liga Bur.

Realising his dire situation, Sergeant Philco and a few of his men surrendered but they were butchered anyway, alongside their blinded Captain and the bleeding Egrow. Fortu was appalled but wise enough to keep the worst of his anger to himself.

Module 3: The Givrad Void

In exchange for her gratitude and the lives of the three surviving town guards; Henshaw, Doberman and Barbella, the Party agreed to help Estrid and persued the dastardly Sir Briefadel through the void. Whatever plans he had, he mustn’t be allowed back through the portal!

After a disconcerting journey, the, now enlarged, Party travelled to an ice world called Kik-ri, where they encountered a gigantic, burrowing insectoid monster and a friendly Frost giant called; Droofin.

Then they travelled to a three-sunned, desert world called Calcienta. After a skirmish with a group of human, snake and monkey zombies, they were back on Sir Briefadel’s trail and Liga Bur led them to an oasis, where they met a strange but welcoming merchant of magic; Whackeem. After that Arowe killed a highflying hawk before the Party were hunted down and captured by its owner, a wrathful slaver, Magician; Moody and his mounted swordsmen. Only Rifkin managed to escape, thanks to the aid of the (magical bangle) summoned Tsigan.

Fortu then realised, to his horror, that he (and his companions) had been returned to the slave arena. After several fraught death-matches, the Party managed to escape during an attempted city revolt and Rifkin’s cleverly timed rescue plan. They then, by an accident of fate, encountered and captured the very slaver that put them in that predicament. Moody pleaded for his life, but after unwillingly guiding the Party to the, apparently mythical ‘Singing Tower’, Fortu slit his throat.

More giant insectoid, pounce-predator creatures caused a moment of fright and the strange, targeted and protracted, dream harassment of Liga Bur, but the Halfling Ranger still successfully led the Party to the mystically shrouded tower.

Dulcetta’s tower itself was full of traps and tricks but it also acted as a prison to several other apparent malefactors, such as Dijonn the tiny fire elemental and Pardrik the teenage ghost guard. After rescuing them and evading the living green slime, Fortu, Arowe, Liga Bur, Rifkin, Henshaw, Doberman and Barbella finally caught up with Sir Briefadel again and his beautiful, raven-haired Mother. After rejecting his offer to join him, there was a brief melee, after which they fled on flying horseback.

Giving up any hope of still being able to track them down, the Party headed back to the void and to Estrid’s pool, where, despite their failure, they were welcomed with open arms, genuine smiles, music, sex, food and wine.

Liga Bur was forced to sacrifice himself for his friends though, after the mighty Thornberg demanded restitution for the deaths of three of his brothers. The Halfling was forced to give up his lance, his bow and a year of his life to join Thornberg’s Druidic brotherhood; ‘The Circle of the Scale’.

Now though, decisions must be made.

Next…

Module 4: Return of the Demon

It Glides and Slides

Oozing its way along and ascending floor after floor, the acidic, green Blob finds itself on the labyrinth level of Dulcetta’s tower. The illusionary temptations and portcullis-like gate traps mean nothing to the mindless, amorphous creature though, and all the maze does is slow the gelatinous slime down just a little further.

Labyrinth of Temptation

With his mighty sword illuminated by Rifkin’s spell, the heavily armoured Fortu leads the way through the dark and twisting labyrinth…

The King/Key Sword

Fortu, one-handedly twists the five-foot-long, sinuous blade by its hilt. He still can’t believe the power of it! Never has he seen a metal blade capable of cutting through blocks of stone or slicing through wood as if it were paper! 

According to Rifkin, this sword had been held in the metal grip of the bronze knight for a hundred years and yet the soft, green leather grip is unblemished by time, wear or rot. The magics that protect the Adamantine blade, steel cross-guard, hilt and golden pommel, obviously extend even to the softer materials too. Raised in the gladiator pits of Oppugn and denied anything more than the most basic of educations, he can’t pretend to understand how this can be, but he decides not to question it.

Along its flat edge, at the base on both sides, a raised script is clearly visible but none of his friends are capable of any sort of translation. ‘My Husband’s sword’ the voluptuous woman had said. Hetzabah; Lord Urdurel’s second wife and Mother to Sir Briefadel. She had worryingly, regardless of the threat it posed, seemed bizarrely pleased to see it.

Despite her multiple, previous nightmare visits, Fortu had only actually seen her for the first time, atop the tower. A tower named after and physically representing Lord Urdurel’s first wife; Dulcetta. The ex-gladiator can’t help but wonder if trapping his second wife in the tribute tower to his first wife was a deliberate added insult? He also wonders if Arowe and Liga Bur are right in surmising that the beautiful young woman and the revolting old Hag that materialised inside the tent are the same person? The only similarity that he could see, was that they rode a bat-winged, black horse and were both wearing the same heart shaped, ruby pendant. Couldn’t they conceivably be totally different women?

Still, these were matters that he’d leave in the hands of his clever Demi-Human friends. For now, he was just happy to have such a powerful and efficient weapon to protect, not just himself, but the people he was coming to think of as the family that he’d never had.

Dulcetta’s First Challenge