Love is in the Air

The octopus-armoured Fortu, eagerly (but unnecessarily) supported by two of the fawning, small but perfectly formed, amphibious Nixies, finds his footing, wades forward up the gentle slope and breaks the surface of the magical pool. Just drinking a mouthful of the enchanted water refreshes him as much as a full nights rest and he feels the aches and stresses from the previous day, wash away as if they’d never been. As the water cascades off of him, leaving him completely dry, he hears the exquisite voices of the Fey creatures singing in harmony. Looking up, he sees three of the Dryads, the smiling Satyr; Magritte and, in the centre, the beautiful ‘goddess’ herself; Estrid. They’re standing in a semi-circle, waist-deep in the water, with their hands outstretched in welcome.

Even as the Four Nixies swim up and down the underwater, hundred foot pipe, retrieving the less submersible Party members, Fortu, despite his distrust, can’t help but gaze upon Estrid. Her beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair, ivory skin and, her (previously terrifying) eyes are of emerald green. Though not a man comfortable with the ‘gentler’ emotions, Fortu reflects upon the difference between the tall and athletic Estrid’s and overly curvaceous Hetzabah’s beauty; Estrid’s seems to fill his heart, whereas Hetzabah’s seemed to fill an entirely different organ, about two feet lower down.

The heavily armoured, but strangely unencumbered in the water, warrior, accepts Estrid’s proffered hand and allows her to pull him forward. She stands about the same impressive height as him in the water but her kind smile is like a breath of Spring and Fortu, for a moment, forgets why he was so angry with her.

Behind him, two of the Nxies emerge with his Halfling friend and his slobbery dog, before the small, green-skinned women dive back down to retrieve the others.

Liga Bur looks about himself suspiciously, but on seeing no signs of aggression, treads water while holding onto his soggy, doggy-paddling companion. The welcoming choral song the Fey creatures are singing is warm and genuine and even the ever-vigilant, Orc-raised Halfling feels himself lull a little.

Fortu and Liga Bur are soon joined by Arowe and Rifkin and all of them have been guided to the safety of the grassy bank before a coughing and spluttering Henshaw, Barbella and Doberman break the surface of the crystal-clear pool.

Still (mostly) wearing the same uniforms that they attacked the Fey in, the three soldiers weren’t given the magical, water-breathing Nixie kiss and are choking by the time they escape the hundred-foot deep, underwater sinkhole pipe. The four Nixies roughly pull them to the shallower water but their actions are obviously begrudging and Fortu is coldly reminded of the general ill-will felt between the Fey and Humans.

Still, when Estrid finally speaks, her voice is soft, like Summer rain.

“Welcome home my champions. We have much to discuss, but before we’re forced deal with the evil that’s to come, please rest after your arduous journey, share our food and enjoy our music, wine and… our company.”

Fortu feels a wave of confusion wash over him as he battles conflicting emotions. The goddess; Estrid seems so different this time around; kind, generous and objectively, (whatever he may think of her past actions) breathtakingly lovely.

Why Should You Care?

Assif asked the question after the last session; 

“Why should we care about Sir Briefadel?”

It’s simultaneously a fair and unfair question.

As a Party, you were sponsored by Sir Briefadel to find Estrid’s magical pool/portal. You were doing that for the sake of adventure and promised coin. (Coin that he was never going to pay.)

At the moment of your success however, Sir Briefadel betrayed you and magically transported (with the aid of Madame Morgana) himself, his lackey Egrow and about thirty soldiers to your position. After which, you fought a bloody battle, where you swapped sides and found yourselves fighting back-to-back with Magritte the Satyr and the other Fey creatures against Sir Briefadel’s troops. 

You won the battle and captured the ‘Wizard’ Egrow but Sir Briefadel and his phenomenally intelligent Hawk; Sephony, managed to get to the pool and escape through the dimensional portal. 

It was at that point that Estrid, the goddess of the pool pleaded for your help to pursue Sir Briefadel and stop him doing whatever he was attempting and to prevent him, at all costs, from returning back through her pool.

It should be obvious by now, that beyond just being an evil dick, Sir Briefadel is consorting with actual demonic creatures and is attempting to raise an army of the damned to destroy his father; Lord Urderal, along with a huge chunk of the continent.

Individually, it’s a slightly more difficult question. Why should a Halfling, a Human and an Elf risk their lives and chase a whinging, vengeful Aristocrat through the void between worlds?

Arowe’s introductory story, painted him as a flamboyant, drama seeking Elf, desperate for fame and glory.

Fortu’s was about brutal death, a lack of autonomy and the anguish of not knowing his own past.

Liga Bur’s dealt with the mystery of his Orcish upbringing and the loss, of not just one family, but his unknown Halfling one too!

It’s my ‘job’ as the DM, to try to tie these three backstories into the thread if the overarching adventure story but it’s also your responsibility to actively engage in it.

Is travelling into the Fey realm, battling living trees and werewolves before passing through multi-world dimensions, not enough of an adventure for the drama hungry Arowe?

Is the recognition that Liga Bur felt, as he saw the Hag’s eyes flash ‘demonic’ red like the ‘Red-eyed’ Orc clan that slaughtered his Orc tribe, not enough to drive his urge for revenge, or at least, his curiosity to find a link between these two events?

Is Fortu’s heart not filled with a desire to learn more about the magical, indestructible, seemingly symbolic sword he now possesses? An enigma, that’s perhaps more solvable than the frustrating mystery of his own personal history?

I’ve tried pretty hard to create an enticing world for you three to explore and a hopefully exciting adventure. Ultimately though, it’s down to you as the Players to choose to engage in the story. All I can do is offer, hopefully fun/interesting plot hooks; it’s up to you three to bite. 

Should you continue to chase Sir Briefadel into Hell itself? The only reason you caught him the first time, was because he (overconfidently) waited around for several days, just in an attempt to recruit you. Perhaps you should return to Fissa to warn Estrid or even Lord Urdurel that his son is raising a fiendish army for vengeance and conquest? Or you could disentangle yourselves from this responsibility and look for another cause or adventure.

Ultimately, you can decide that you’ve seen enough of the world(s), that adventuring isn’t for you after all and just retire. You’re all certainly rich enough now. It’s entirely up to you.

Knights in White Satin

Still breathing deeply after the exertion of the battle, Khalil; leader of the eight desert horsemen, leans across on his finely decorated, traditional, tribal saddle and gently admonishes the adjacent Wizard Moody.

"You said that they didn't have any Magicians but the one that got away was clearly a Bard."

Moody sneers.

"Bards don't count."

Nostrils' flaring slightly, Khalil risks annoying his employer.

"He summoned a Centaur!"

The seasoned Khalil had cautioned Moody against this attack. He'd considered the Party of adventurers too big. Nine men against seven wasn't good enough odds, even with their well trained horses and home/desert advantage. The flint-eyed Enchanter had insisted though. He'd been furious about the death of his falcon and was going to take his revenge on the Elf regardless.

Fortune though, had smiled upon them. Only three of their opponents had attacked at range and all of them had targeted the magically protected Moody, rather than his riders. All but the Bard and the Halfling had arranged themselves in a single spread out line and, with the exception of the Halfling Dog-rider, they'd just waited to be attacked. They didn't organise themselves into human barriers to prevent horse barges or jumps. They even failed to exploit the three large, dozing camels to break up direct charges.

Only one of the group surprised them. The Halfling, riding the big dog, broke to the side and rushed up their flank, avoiding his men and horses and taking the fight direct to the Wizard. It was fortunate for Moody that he came alone and chose arrows rather than sword.

Ultimately though, their well practiced tactics had been successful, with Moody's charms sending all but the Elves to sleep. The Bard conjured a very powerful looking Centaur and managed to escape over the dunes but the Archer was snared in a net, dragged across the sand and hoof-stomped to unconsciousness.

Khalil had considered giving chase to the Bard but ironically, for their intended entertainment, his type weren't much in demand.

Looking down at the beaten and bloody Elf who'd killed his falcon, Moody considers taking his revenge there and then, but after a brief moment, shakes his head.

"You're worth nothing to me dead and I doubt you'll survive three bouts in the arena."

Practical Diplomacy

Double checking his restocked potion bandeliers and hitching his refilled quiver and longbow up across his wiry shoulders, Magritte risks posing the question he'd been delaying asking...

"After everything you said, everyone you killed; why did you allow those three Human soldiers to live?”

The ram-horned Satyr looks genuinely baffled, but the achingly beautiful Estrid calms him instantly with a gentle touch of her pale hand on his darkly tanned arm.

“I understand your confusion Magritte and, truth be told, I’m not all that certain if it was a wise decision or not, but we had to convince the Human Fortu that we are on the side of the angels. The barely-elf Rifkin did his best to persuade his companions, but that gesture of 'mercy' could only have helped our case."

Magritte gnaws at his bottom lip for a moment…

"You’re the goddess and I bow to your judgement, but I’ve got a really baaaaad feeling about this."

The Loyalty of Men

Awake, alive and completely healed from their extensive wounds, the three surviving Scarborough soldiers' glance around themselves. All their compatriots lie dead and their leaders have either abandoned them or been butchered themselves.

Even if they hadn't been deprived of their weapons, there's little chance of escape. 

Whispering, the swarthy Barbella hisses into blond Henshaw's slightly jug ear.

"What do they want wiv us? Are they gunna eat us?!"

Henshaw answers in a low but nasal voice.

"I don't know... I fink they're planning on handing us over to that big bloke in the blackish armour... If they do, play along and follow my lead... And Doberman... Don't say nothing stupid... In fact, don't say nothing at all!"

The short, wide and trollish looking Doberman looks up blankly.

"Wha?"

A Sacrifice I'm Willing to Make

The flamboyantly dressed Egrow knocks at the sturdy wooden door, doffs his floppy purple hat and adjusts the crotch of his bright yellow tights while he awaits his master's positive response before entering.

"The blacksmith; Smelder has finished your 'special weapons' order. It was monstrously expensive but you were right to recruit a Dwarf. Very few Human craftsmen would have been capable of this quality of work. The men are also drilled and ready Sir. Captain Hall can hardly wait for the upcoming battle!"

Sir Briefadel glances up from his desk.

"Captain Hall has indeed proven himself to be a useful idiot. His ambition, general ignorance and rampant hatred of all races outside his own is why I hired him in the first place. I'm not sure about his Sergeant though. That man seems a little too clever for my liking."

Egrow shrugs.

"Don't worry about Sergeant Philco. He won't have time to wriggle out of trouble before he finds himself transported to the pool."

Giving Egrow his full attention now, Sir Briefadel's hooded eyes stare directly into the cod-wizard's face.

"These men really are the scum of the Fissa but as long as their unwitting sacrifice grants us enough of a distraction to gain access to the magical pool unaccosted, it'll be worth all the trouble."

Egrow shrugs again.

"Cut-throats and thugs, they really are the dregs of society alright but that's what mercenaries generally are. These men though, are only here because they enjoy killing a little too much and, considering their past crimes, most regular armies and even militias wouldn't take them."

Sir Briefadel yawns as his attention falls back to the weird map he's examining.

"This far out from civilisation, I suppose we should really consider ourselves lucky to even have men as lowly as these."

Does Human Life Hold Greater Value than Another?

Sensing his rising ire, the empathic Rifkin places a calming arm around Fortu's shoulder.

"Don't be offended by Estrid's brusque manner. The Fey don't like interlopers at the best of times and they're currently losing acres of land monthly to the expansionist Humans. They're facing a potential war to defend their lands... Their homes!"

Fortu grimaces.

"She said that the only difference between Orcs and Humans was that 'Orcs shit where they eat but Human's shit where everyone else eats'. What does that even mean?"

The mixed-race Bard looks momentarily confused before responding.

"It's just a metaphor. She's saying that Humans bring problems for everybody, not just themselves. You're right though, she's obviously more than a little xenophobic. Even the order in which she addressed us was telling. Elf, Half-elf, Halfling and then finally; Human. In fairness, she's a Queen fighting for her people and Sir Briefadel just brought a Human legion of death to her glade and, aware of it or not, we inadvertently helped him. We're at least partially responsible for all this destruction." 

The armoured Fortu doesn't look convinced, so Rifkin continues.

"Take it from me; the Fey are on the side of 'good', even if they can be a 'little' imperious but Sir Briefadel's an outright fiend who crushed the helpless Three-Quarterling while he was literally a fish out of water! And those Human soldiers weren't any better. Captain Hall was as racist as Estrid. Probably even more so but you've got an opportunity to prove to her wrong. To prove that not all Humans are evil."

Maintaining his position, the Human Fortu presses his point.

"And Sergeant Philco and the others that surrendered... Did they deserve to die?"

The slightly-elf frowns.

"I can't be sure but, before they surrendered, weren't those men actively trying to kill the Fey Dryads and Sprites? Did any of them actually manage it? Could one of them be the one who killed the Dryad guardian? And ultimately what would you have had her do? Just let them go with the knowledge of the secret, magical glade if they 'pinky-promised' not to tell? Cut off their hands and feet or perhaps just burn out their eyes and let them blindly wander to their deaths?"

The Bard pauses for a moment, trying to organise his thoughts.

"I know you've seen a lot of violence and you know me. I'm a lover, not a fighter but the harsh reality we live in doesn't often allow for compassion. When you first met me in the bandit camp, was Arowe a 'demon' for shooting those fleeing men in their backs? Knowing that he was a good man cursed against his will, should we not have slaughtered the captured Kane while he was bound and helpless? I've seen your kindness. Experienced it first hand. It was you who chose to spare the living Lightning tree but it was just yesterday when I saw you throw the stick-finger-wand into the fire after it pricked you with its thorn. I saw it desperately try to wriggle away from the deadly heat. Perhaps only a nascent sentient life but after you saw it struggling to survive, did you really have to kick it back into the flames? Why did its life mean so little to you?"

Rewards, Exchanges and whatever was in the Dead Soldiers Pockets

The magical, shimmering portal used by the soldiers has faded and in the silence of the aftermath, Fortu looks around at the carnage. The bodies of the dead Human soldiers lie scattered like wheat amongst the tiny, fallen Sprites and, despite near immediate attention from skilled healers, one of the Dryads had also been wounded beyond saving.

Many of the other Fey were lucky though. The Human soldiers were well prepared and all carried 'cold-iron' tipped crossbow bolts and swords. This dark metal an anathema to Fey magical defences. Arowe shudders at his realisation of how forgiving the goddess Estrid and the Dryads had been for his use of the evil sword; 'Amargor Feybane'. He'd felt its warnings before but hadn't suspected its evil intent.

Only five of the Human invaders are still alive and they are all bound and kneeling in a line beside one of the rock formations in front of the magical pool. Of those five, Captain Hall and the 'Wizard' Egrow have already had their eyes burned out by Estrid's power.

The terrified, middle-aged and slightly greasy looking Sergeant Philco pleads for his life.

"Please spare us! Sir Briefadel tricked us all. Don't you see he just used us as a distraction? We were just fodder in his plans!"

He's cut off by his Captain, who despite his burned out eye sockets, strains against his bindings and screams at his Sergeant.

"Stop your snivelling, you cowardly dog! These inhuman scum are incapable of compassion. Act like a man, they're going to kill us all regardless of anything you say."

Estrid smiles and even Liga Bur is taken aback by the rage he senses behind it.

"You are quite correct Human. I have no kindness in my Fey heart for monsters such as yourself."

And with that, she takes the rapier from the Satyr; Magritte and stabs him through his unarmoured throat. The tied soldiers whimper as each of them is killed in turn until only Sergeant Philco and the blinded Egrow remain.

"Neither of you raised a weapon against my people. Possibly due to cowardice but I believe you both. This 'Briefadel' obviously somehow knew about the hidden portal to the Givrad Void and viewed you as dispensable. Sadly for both of you though, your Captain was correct; I have little sympathy for your kind."

Her smile fades as Estrid slashes both their throats without a stroke of joy.

Uninterested in the items the Human invaders brought with them, Arowe, Rifkin and Liga Bur are allowed to rifle through the limp Egrow's brightly coloured robes...

Gifts from Estrid: For pursuing Sir Briefadel into the Givrad Void.

Bracelet of Friends: Containing four named charms:   

(Each one can summon the creature represented by the charm once for one hour, no matter where you are.)  

1) Shananaghan: Sprite (Tiny, winged, stealthy Pixie.)

2) Loralai: Nixie (Small, amphibious, big eyed, observant fish-woman.)

3) Magritte: Satyr (If Tom Selleck was a handsome elven, pirate, goat creature.)

4) Tsigan: Centaur (Horse-man Prince of the woodlands.)

A quiver of 20 Masterwork Dryad medium arrows for Arowe.

A quiver of 20 Masterwork Dryad small arrows for Liga Bur.

Arowe also accepted an exchange of Magritte's flamboyant, gold hilted magical +2 Rapier for the darkly sentient; Amargor Feybane.

The soldiers had nothing magical or of any immediate worth other than the Masterwork 'cold-iron' weapons but it seems unwise to take them.

Sergeant Philco had a coin purse containing 25pp, 79gp, 32sp, several (never to be paid now) IOUs from the soldiers and a pack of (apparently, according to Rifkin) marked cards.

Captain Hall's coin purse only contained 2gp and 14sp.

Their old 'Fire-starting' travelling companion; Egrow though had that 'Burning hands' wand, a Magic dagger, and a surprising amount of colour coded Magical Scrolls.

Wand of Burning Hands. Unknown number of charges left.

Dagger (Cold iron) +1

Scrolls:

1) Windwall x 3 (Blue)

2) Fireball x 3 (Red)

3) Stinking Cloud x 3 (Green)

4) Levitation x 3 (Yellow)

5) Invisibilty x 3 (Black)

6) Cure Light Wounds x 6 (White)

Gold: 20gp

Experience of Water, Wood, Wolves and Women!

From the Nixie river crossing, the Lightning tree and Kane's wolf pack to the Dryad trap and the season Finale at the Pool of Temporary Immortality, you've certainly earned this level. 

Fortu: 15,967xp (Up to 6th!)

Arowe: 16,042xp (Up to 6th!)

Liga Bur: 15,875xp (Up to 6th!)

Rifkin: 10,191xp (Up to 5th!)

Level five was a bit flat but sixth is a great one! New Feats all round and, as you're all Fighter classes, an extra attack each round! 

Personally, I think that Sixth level is the beginning of being a mid-level character. Good bye Rats and City guards, hello truly terrifying monsters of the void!

Congratulations!