Justicar's Bastion - Eagle Elf [Updated 5th Dec 06]

[PieAndDragon]

Fey Troubles

The gloom of the forest had not changed. Coloured lights, unearthly music and bouts of distant laughter told Layla that the fey were still out among the trees. The mayor had looked more desperate than before, telling them another merchant had cancelled his contract with Turvin, and offering up gold of the village to entice the adventurers in freeing the village of their troubles. The enchantress was concerned that the Company of Rifter’s word bore so little weight, remembering promises that they needed no payment to help such poor folk as this. She had made what difference she could, handing out coins to the young ones, silver and gold making the difference to lives of peasant and craftsman alike.

The Company of Rifter had done well from the dragon, gaining much wealth from the hoard, almost two thousand gold coins per member, even when split among the eight of them. After two days of scouring stall after stall of merchandise, visiting the most obscure places in Corelane, most had what they wanted. Ra wore full plate from the dragon’s lair, reworked to fit him. The berserker was a walking armoury, weighed down with all manner of death-dealing weapons. Derris had a collection of finely made blades, the dwarf bore an enchanted axe, the elf an imbued bow Sam sat atop a mighty charger and all of them were armed with cold iron weapons. Arrows, daggers, swords and axes of the dark metal, the better to hunt the fey. Layla was proud of her find, a magical haversack which held all manner of gear but always weighed the same. With the fate of Turvin on their minds, they had lingered no more, making their way back along the road to the hamlet.

Her companions were silent for the most part, wary of the woods and the dangers within. They followed the tracker and berserker along the deer trail, searching for clues of what lay further beyond the winter-bare trees. The noise of Sam on his charger and Ra leading his warhorse would warn any foe of their approach long before the Company would be seen. Layla and Laucien kept to the centre of the party, the elf’s eagle flitting among the branches above. Derris brought up the rear of the party, alert for dangers which may try to catch them unawares. Some malaise had overcome Xarban, who shivered and trudged along, oblivious to his surroundings but keeping up nonetheless.

Three hours into their journey they came upon a wide clearing, strewn with the remnants of celebration. Layla made out empty wineskins and half-eaten fruit, while the sour stink of spilled wine crept to her nostrils. In the centre of the clearing stood a twisted tree, covered in tatters of festive ribbon and dimly glowing beehives. A naked man sat dazed under the tree dirt and moss caking his legs, a vacant gaze complemented by a ruddy glow on his cheeks. Layla remembered a man fitting his description from the village, a woodcutter missing for a week now. In disjointed sentences, he confirmed that he was Marshal Ternsval of Turvin, with memories of a wild party for several days. Plagued by a painful headache, the woodcutter was grateful when they found his clothes, pausing only to moan that he had lost his wedding ring before heading back to the hamlet.

Humanoid tracks lead a short way north, veering off from the deer trail only to vanish completely a hundred yards later. With few other options the Company of Rifter continued to follow their original course, looking for more solid signs of the fey. Two hours later they found them, coming upon a web-spun gossamer bridge spanning a fast-moving river, anchored five foot above the rushing waters by two strong willows. The enchantress was struck by the beauty of the scene, the bridge sparkling with incandescent dew and shimmering with multicoloured hues.

A movement caught Layla’s eyes among the branches of the willow on the opposite bank. Two gossamer wings fanned out from a bulbous purple frame, sectioned by bright yellow stripes. Multi-faceted eyes stared impassively from the creatures head as it spoke in the tongue of the forest, a language none of them understood. In broken common the beast told them that the bridge was his, and seemed to expect some kind of tribute from their kind. Layla watched as her companions tried to reason with the beast, and Snarf grew increasingly impatient. A warning shot fired from his longbow earned a quick reply, a net of webbing flying across the water to engulf the berserker, triggering the Company of Rifter into action.

While the dwarf cut Snarf free of his webbing, Derris darted across, the bridge dipping slightly under his weight as he stood at the far end, darting at the beast with sickle and dagger of cold iron. The others, concerned of putting too much strain upon the bridge, supported the noble with sling stones, arrows and bolts. The beast was a difficult target, clinging to the far side of the willow, striking at the noble with its dripping fangs and hooked claws. Laucien was next across, moving up to aid the noble with sword in hand, his eagle attacking their foe from above. Frustrated with her archery skills, Layla clambered up onto the web bridge, hoping it could take the weight of a third person. Focusing her magic, she flung out an arm, assaulting the winged fey’s mind with a surge of power. Already pierced by arrows and blades, it was overwhelmed, sliding down the trunk of the willow and laying still.

Once the Company of Rifter was all across the web bridge, having swum the two warhorses across separately, Layla studied the gems found in a well-made pouch on the fey’s corpse. Although pretty, their value was nothing compared to the dragon’s hoard. Finding little else in the area, the dwarf and berserker set about looking for any trail. Several futile minutes later, it was decided to head north away from the river, into the heart of the woodlands. This side of the river was a lot quieter, with little noise from forest creatures and a concealing canopy which only allowed through a gloomy half-light. The forest floor had little plant life beyond patches of colourful mushrooms and toadstools.

The first they knew of their attackers was shrill laughter from high among the branches. A large green humanoid leapt from the trees, blood covering its long arms and legs as it rushed to attack the warriors guarding the rear of the party. The twang of bows followed shortly thereafter, striking Snarf, who fell into a slumber. Branches, mushrooms and fungi animated around them, grabbing for arms and legs, holding the adventurers in place. Layla could catch no sight of the archers, no doubt more fey using illusions to stay out of sight. The berserker, awoken from his slumber, ran to aid the nomad against the howling troll. After a few blows had been exchange, the two shouted that their foe was not real, that it was another trick by their invisible attackers.

Alerted, Layla could see though the troll, a powerful illusion. But the distraction of the beast proved costly for the Company of Rifter. Hindered by grasping plants, they fell into slumbers faster than each could wake another. The enchantress almost caught an archer in a cone of swirling colours, but some ward protected the unseen creature and they shot from further back thereafter. The elf and half-elf seem unaffected by the arrows, battling on even when Layla felt the sting of a tiny arrow, and sunk into a deep enchanted sleep.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Stolen Memories

He awoke very wet, sat in a shallow pond, hands and legs abound by thick hemp rope. He felt a wound further down his chest, caused by some sort of puncturing weapon. Those around him were unfamiliar, mostly humans, with a dwarf and a creature with tiger-like features among them. The tiger-like male was struggling with his bonds, muscles straining in an attempt to break free.

Looking around, it struck him that none of this was familiar. His own name was unknown to him. Where he was, who he was, where he had been, he knew none of these things. Looking around him gave him no more clues as to his whereabouts. A large pond with giant lily pads dominated a forest clearing. From the centre of the pond rose a massive plant, leaves arching more than fifty feet above the water. A lone stalk rose up into the sky, unfurling a huge white flower. Hundreds of tiny fey fluttered around the plant, giving it a faint red glow.

He felt some sort of link to the nature, knowing instinctively the names of many plants and several of the fey. The bow at his back and the sword at his side must make him a warrior of some sort, although he only wore light leather armour. An eagle landed beside him, studying him with interest. He stared back and realised an empathy with the creature. This was his truest friend, a powerful beast who had seen him through difficult times. There was little his companion could tell him of his predicament, but at least he had one ally he could trust. A shout from the tiger-like male disturbed his reverie, and he rolled over to find the creature had broken his bonds and was untying a human in full-plate and the symbol of a bright yellow sun.

A few minutes later, all were free and he found out these were in fact his companions, who claimed to be the Company of Rifter. The last any of them knew, invisible archers had attacked them in the forest and overwhelmed them all. Some of them were amused at his lack of memory, although he was not alone. Another, one with slightly elven features, was also bewildered and knew nothing of his situation. After a brief conversation, they were told their own names and those of their companions. His own name was Laucien, known to them as a user of nature-magics. The one like him was called Derris, a nobleman of the lands around. The other companions who spoke to them were Snarf, the tiger-like man who had broken them free, Ra, a priest of a being known as Sun and their greatest healer, Layla, a pretty, human female skilled in arcane magics and Sam, a nomad warrior from the harsh desert far to the west. Two others, Xarban a human warrior, and Burc, a dwarf tracker, were struck down with some illness, speaking little and barely aware of their surroundings.

So Laucien was his name, although it did not sound familiar. His reflection in the water confirmed his elven features, dirtied by mud and leaves. He could sense his magics too, linking him to the great nature which he presumably worshipped. Maybe over time his memories would return. For now he would need to trust his companions and find a way forward. Most seemed to trust and respect the priest of Sun, who could perhaps grant guidance on how to return what was lost to him.

From nowhere a voice called them to follow it, and a small winged elf appeared, a being Laucien knew instinctively to be a pixie. The others started to trudge after the darting fey and a after a short walk into the main pool, they came to a stone at the base of the plant, as tall as a dwarf. A one-horned grinning satyr greeted them, introducing itself as Banba and it’s slim gray-skinned companion as Ivicerus, which the Laucien recognised as one of the shadar-kai, shadow-bound fey. Laucien paid only a little attention to the conversation which followed, lost in thoughts and staring at the enchanted surroundings. From what he heard, the two were emissaries of the fey, and they wanted his companions to slay a ranger known as Wingclipper, who was killing the fey and had forced them south away from their homeland glades.

Promising them safe passage from the fey they could influence, the Company of Rifter left Banba with several healing potions and a magical map which showed the way to the ranger’s lair. It was a beautiful work, and staring at is was like an eagle’s view, each tree and pool visible. If they stopped Wingclipper from hunting the fey, then the Gossamer Court would return to its home, leaving the village to the south, which Laucien learned they were helping, undisturbed.

With map in hand, the Company of Rifter left the glade of the fey, walking or riding through the forest. Ra and Sam both had large horses to carry them, bearing weight of rider, armour, weapons and gear without complaint. Soon the land started to creep downhill, breaks in the trees allowing sunlight to filter through. The dense forest gave way to wide glade running downhill, dominated by two huge fir trees and revealing a vast stretch of mist-covered lowland below them. As Laucien studied the many mushrooms in the shade of the firs, one of the branches changed before his eyes, melding into the form of a wild-looking female with burnished wooden skin and leaf-textured hair. The dryad of the fir tree.

It called for them to leave the glade, and when Laucien’s companions stared in return grass and shrubs reached for them from the ground. Another dryad, shifting from the other fir, sent arrows toward the struggling adventurers, as others fell asleep to the enchantments of the first. Laucien rushed forward in an attempt to halt the needless violence, only to become entranced by the voice of the fey. She spoke to him with mystical words, asking him to leave the grove, and who was he to refuse her. As he walked away with his eagle in tow, Laucien heard the sounds of horses, bows, blades and raised voices, only turning to survey the trees again when he reached the glade’s edge. The fey had fled, and his companions were harvesting what they could of the mushrooms, no doubt enchanted with in fey magics.

With a sigh, the elf wandered how long he would continue like this, knowing nothing of what must be a century of living in the world.

 

[DeGlove]

Hehehe, I'd forgotten about those two - I get the feeling fixing them up could turn out to be expensive... Though I wonder if the cleric back at the village can help.

Nice fey, though. Didn't kill us or take all our equipment

 

[PieAndDragon]

Gigantic Toads

At times Sam missed the desert sands which he had called home for most of his years. There was a stark beauty to them, the promise of heat, thirst and starvation staved off by the occasional oasis or pocket of civilisation. But here he was in unfamiliar territory. The oppressive shadows of the forest had given way to smoke filled swampland, tree stumps showing where the woodlands had recently been. The Company of Rifter were resting here, on the edge of the what they presumed to be Wingclipper’s domain. They had found the corpse of a pixie, nailed by it’s hands to a wooden post. Layla had taken down the corpse as they made their decision to make camp here, ready for the next days foray into the watery dangers of the swamp.

Sam was proud of his companions and felt worthy of his place in the Company of Rifter. In recent times they had defeated a troglodyte tribe, retrieved the corpse of an honoured adventurer, joined the Enjant Adventurer’s Guild, put down a marauding bear and slain a dragon. Worthy deeds for any adventurer. He had lost companions along the way, but such dangers were to be expected in their line of work. The Company was working well, with Sam, Derris, Snarf and Burc forming a fighting core, supported by the magics of Ra and the enchantments of Layla. He had yet to see the full abilities of Laucien or Xarban, but no doubt they would prove worthy allies in time. The only concern Sam could think of was the mental state of the noble and druid. If a person didn’t remember what had come before, how could they be complete? It didn’t help that the enchantress had been tormenting Derris all of the afternoon, trying to persuade him he preferred males over females among similar ideas.

The next morning saw Sam high atop his horse, watching as his bedraggled companions trudged through mud and brackish water. They followed the satyr’s map for several hours, listening for sounds of danger from the mist-shrouded land around, guided around dangers by the berserker. Splashes alerted them of the patrol before they saw them, giving time to ready bows, slings and crossbow. Ahead of them appeared two hobgoblin warriors on foot with a third mounted upon a massive toad as large as a horse, each warrior sporting orange flames tattooed on arms and legs. Harsh words were exchanged, the hobgoblins ignoring the noble’s entreaties as they ordered the Sam and his companions away from the swamp. The violence that followed was brief, as the hobgoblins on foot were shot down and the last overwhelmed by warriors, the toad cut down by Snarf’s greatsword. Sam also noted that the berserker’s skill with a bow, much more apparent when wielding the composite bow bought with dragon’s treasure and altered to his great strength.

The hobgoblin’s cold-iron weapons made them likely allies of Wingclipper, confirmed two hours later when they reached a large fire by the ruined keep shown on their map. The four hobgoblins tending it proved no match, all falling into deep slumbers from a silently cast enchantment from Layla, their throats slit by noble, druid and berserker. They spotted more guards on an island among the swamp-water, guarding almost a dozen small tents surrounding a larger central one. Unnoticed by their foes, the Company of Rifter organised their ambush from afar.

The enchantress proved invaluable again, sending many to sleep as the others were picked off by arrows and bolts. More hobgoblins emerged from their tents, only to fall like their allies as they entered the murky water. One enemy archer, emerging from the central tent on another giant toad, fled toward the keep after firing a couple of arrows their way. One hobgoblin made it away with him on foot, crawling through muddy waters to avoid the arrows. When they reached the tents, Sam saw seven bodies, the four asleep given the same quick deaths as their allies by the fire. In the central hall they found food and tables in addition to the cold iron longswords they took for themselves. Sam was happy to see an enchanted ring alongside many coins and several potions from a wooden chest. Everyone knew that enchanted rings were valuable, prized for their powerful magics.

When they reached the keep, they found much of it had collapsed, sinking into the fetid muck around, covered in moss and debris. On one side large slabs of stone jutting from the water provided stepping stones to a pair of double doors and a separate watery entrance. Derris and Snarf crept toward the watery entrance, as Sam rode his horse through the waters, the enchantress mounted behind him as he headed for the double doors. The door burst open before they reached them, war-cries of hobgoblins mingling with noises of toads and spellcasting. Two hobgoblins mounted on toads lead the way, back up by three more on foot, covering their allies with arrows and javelins. One toad-rider leapt toward Derris while the second guided his amphibious mount to Sam, shouting orders to his underlings in the goblin tongue.

Sam’s troubles became apparent when a mass of grey emerged from the waters, trying to engulf his steeds’ legs in slime and acid. The warhorse, kicked at the creature, as the nomad fought off toad and sword-armed rider. A glance around saw the rest of his companions in trouble. The enchantress had leapt from behind the nomad, and now lay flat on a slab of stone as javelins and arrows flew over her, hurriedly mouthing spells from the ground. Derris fared no better, bleeding from arrows, beset by toad and rider as the berserker moved to aid him. Ra called on Sun from atop his horse, watching for where his healing would be needed most, as the druid fired arrows from firm ground, sending his eagle to aid Sam against his foes.

The nomad screamed as a the toad’s tongue wrapped around him, dragging him to it’s maw and after a brief struggle, swallowing him down into it’s gullet and engulfing him in darkness. Slime burnt him and the beast squeezed him as he punched and kicked from within the creature’s stomach. He heard the sounds of fighting continuing outside, the cries of hobgoblins growing fewer, as prayers and incantations filled the air. He felt the toad shudder under blows and could hear the whinnies of his steed, terrified but fighting on. As he grew weak the beast shuddered and a light appeared from a hole torn in the side of the beast. The leader of the hobgoblins had fled inside the keep, the rest were down, and the Company of Rifter had prevailed. Most importantly, Sam had survived another perilous battle.

End of Session Five

 

[PieAndDragon]

Night Attack

The malaise which had troubled Xarban in the forest had lifted, leaving him well and alive, ready to take up his adventuring career in earnest. His companions had taken part in a tough skirmish earlier in the day, almost losing Derris and Sam to giant toads. They had made the decision to rest early, taking the time to restore the magics used against the hobgoblin militia who served the ranger Wingclipper. Under Xarban and Burc’s advice, they had chosen to camp around the fire near to the keep, confident that the ranger did not have enough allies to overwhelm them in a night attack. Stealing tents formerly used by the hobgoblins, they were all set for a chilly winter’s night in the swamp.

Few of them realised Xarban was a priest of Mirakiln, the mighty power of conquest, seeing only a human in heavy armour wielding a great axe, using occasional magics to bolster himself in melee. His hobgoblin masters had rewarded his dedication to their patron by freeing him, putting him above the regular slaves of the Yeteker Empire. Now he searched for ways to aid the Empire in its quest to dominate the lands surrounding the Inner Sea. The company of Rifter appeared competent enough to serve his ends for the time being, until mightier allies could be found.

Several hours later, Xarban woke to a voice, calling from the darkness of the swamp. The dwarf and berserker were on watch, but even in the light of the full moon, they could not find the one who addressed them. The voice belonged to a man claiming to be Wingclipper, asking why Xarban and his companions were here. When the awakened Derris told the hidden speaker they were hunting those who killed the fey, the voice took on an angry tone, promising them death if they stayed the night where they were. The voice said no more, leaving the Company of Rifter to their fire and tents. During the exchange, Xarban had donned his full-plate, and faced with the choice of staying awake or removing it once more to sleep, he chose to remain standing, making conversation with Burc, debating the finer points of weapons, armour and ale.

Almost an hour after their conversation with the figure in the darkness, the silence of night was broken by a cry of pain from near to the fire. Xarban turned to see the elf clutching an arrow in his side, no longer meditating in peace. More arrows struck the druid and he slumped to the ground as more foes became apparent. A shrill chanting filled the air and the dwarf warned of more foes in the swamp, leaping into the shallow waters to engage them alone. A cacophony of sounds filled the campsite, waking any who still somehow slept and stunning those within the blast of noise. Xarban clutched his axe and prayed to Mirakiln to aid him in battle.

As Xarban summoned divine magics to bolster his might, his companions awoke or tried to shelter from the arrows shot into the campsite. The berserker warned them of a lone archer out in the swamp, atop a giant toad, over a hundred feet away. Layla took cover among the tents, Derris and Ra awoke only slowly as Snarf went to aid the fallen elf with a potion. Wading through the muddy waters to aid the dwarf, Xarban found him fighting back many foes. Burc held two canine skeletons and a bloodied crocodile at bay, as two dark-skinned halflings sought targets for their crossbows, guarding a muscular halfling howling prayers to his dark master and all commanded by a hobgoblin archer atop another giant toad. The hobgoblin kept his distance, firing arrows at those standing among the camp as Xarban joined the fray.

Alerted of undead, the priest of Sun behind Xarban called down divine rays which struck the undead wolves, scattering their bones to float briefly on the dark surface of the swamp, before sinking into their muddy depths. Left to face Xarban and the angry dwarf, the crocodile was quickly overcome by their axes, leaving three halflings to face them. The two wielding crossbows backed away, allowing their burly leader to battle Xaban and Burc, wielding an iron mace in two hands. Their foe focused on Xarban, taking a blow from the slashing axe of the dwarf for his pains. The halfling was surprisingly strong, beating aside Xarban’s axe to land a telling and painful blow on his chest. As the servant of Mirakiln battled through the pain and attempted to land a blow himself, he watched as the halfling released his axe with one hand, calling a prayer to Hesak and touching Xarban’s leg with black crackling energies. His vision was filled by a sudden blackness, then a chilling pain and finally nothing more, as the Lord of Murder claimed his soul.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Midnight Battle

Burc watched in horror as his companion sank to the ground, slain by a mere touch from his halfling foe. Using defensive manoeuvres to keep the halfling always at a distance, he looked around for aid but found none forthcoming. Derris and Snarf fought off hobgoblin rider and toad mount as the others took cover from the arrows still flying in from the archer out in the swampland. In the end, aid came from an unexpected quarter, a stray bolt from one of his allies striking the halfling priest from behind. As he turned to curse his underling, Burc struck the final blow, the blood of the halfling mingling with crocodile and Xarban’s, as well as some of the dwarf’s own.

Burc dealt with the last two halflings quickly, felling one with single axe-blow and letting the other flee back toward the keep. When he reached the campsite once more, the hobgoblin’s body was lying beside the toad the others battled. Lending his axe to the fray, the giant toad joined it’s rider, filled with arrows and covered in deep cuts from different blades. Left with only Wingclipper’s arrows to face, the Company of Rifter took cover among the tents and wood-piles, using wands of healing and the priest’s magics to staunch their many wounds.

Their wait was only a short one, as the ranger approached the campsite on his amphibious steed, a cold-iron shortsword clutched in each hand. Derris stood briefly before Wingclipper’s charge, to be cut down by flashing blades as the toad’s tongue wrapped around the berserker’s legs, dragging it to teeth-filled maw. Burc was the bulwark against Wingclipper, landing several heavy blows as the ranger cut desperately around with his blades. As Snarf wrestled desperately with the toad, the dwarf and his allies proved more than the lone Wingclipper had reckoned for, leaving him sorely wounded and outnumbered.

With a desperate cry, Wingclipper surrendered, throwing down his swords and shouting that he had failed. Falling from his steed, all the fight appeared to drain from him. No longer commanded by it’s rider, and faced with a vengeful berserker who had broken free, the toad injured toad sprang away into the swamp, disappearing into the night beyond the light of the campfire. Burc watched their sobbing foe, ready to cut down the ranger at any sign of trickery. Appearing not to hear the threats thrown his way, Wingclipper reached beneath his tunic, revealing a locket and horn to his captors.

In the next few minutes, the events surrounding the forest became much clearer. After binding Wingclipper’s arms and legs with rope and preventing the berserker from slaying him in cold blood, they pieced together what they had found. The horn appeared to belong to Banba, the satyr who had hired the Company of Rifter to slay the ranger. Wingclipper blamed the death of his sister Medley on Banba, hunting the fey in revenge for her death. How she had died was unclear, but Wingclipper was adamant that the emissary of the Gossamer Court was to blame. Burc could understand vengeance. His homeland was shattered from decades of warfare with the Yeteker hobgoblins and the dwarves regarded all goblinoids with a unfettered hatred.

Clearing away the bodies of the fallen, they left Xarban’s corpse by one of the wood-piles, hoping to restore his life through divine magics at a later time. They stripped the ranger of his valuables, taking his magical longbow, finely crafted swords, magical eye, enchanted potions and armour as spoils of battle. From what Wingclipper had told them a druid remained in the keep and they had no desire to take on such a powerful foe while injured and tired. Roasting some toad legs for a midnight snack, the Company of Rifter settled down once more that night. Burc finished his watch and slumped into sleep, letting others watch over their captive, hoping for several hours of peaceful rest.

Burc’s dreams were filled with visions of burning trees and armoured hobgoblins, blood-soaked corpses and demonic giant toads. When the morning prayers of the druid and priest awoke him, he made some prayers of his own, thanking his ancestors for his continued life, secure in the knowledge he was forging his own path, one different from that trodden by others of his kind.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Banba's Betrayal

The enchantress sighed, glad that it was over. The balance had been restored to the area, although the morning’s battle had been a close thing. It would be good to see the last of the forest, where one companion had lost his lift and two had lost their memories, no longer sure of their identities. They had slain a dragon, crossed web bridges, been overcome by pixies, seen nature’s bounty in full, battled hobgoblins and giant toads and desperately held out in a midnight defence of their campsite.

This morning, the same campsite had seen the resolution of the fey’s troubles, as two foes had resolved their enmity. It had started as Ra finished his morning prayers, giving thanks and adulations to the Sun. Layla had been experimenting with her new powers, her studies of the beguiling magics coming to fruition, opening up new powers she had previous failed to grasp. The satyr Banba had approached alone, wanting his broken horn returned. The noble had confronted him, detailing Wingclipper’s hatred and asking about the horn. Banba denied all wrong doing, explaining away Medley’s death as accident, none of his fault. The elf had warned them of others in the swamp around them, his keen hearing picking up faint splashes. All the while Wingclipper had struggled at his bonds, shouting that Banba must be answer to justice.

His warning had proved timely, as two small green fey attacked them, wielding bows with great skill and garbed in leaves. Banba had struck as well, summoning a glittery storm which blinded and stuck, causing all to sparkle with bright dust. The Company of Rifter had acted swiftly, Laucien and his eagle engaging one of the fey, which she now knew as thorns, silent forest dwellers who used arrows of sleep against their foes. Derris had stumbled to the satyr, as Layla brought her enchantments down on her foes, the dwarf lay helpless on the ground laughing, Snarf struggled with his blindness and Ra loosened Wingclipper’s bonds.

It had been a desperate battle at times, the thorns dangerous when attacking in tandem with their blades and Banba holding back the noble with his rapier and horns, singing ancient battle songs to inspire his fey allies. When Wingclipper, wielding two clubs from the log-pile, joined against the thorns and the berserker and dwarf surrounded Banba, they proved too much for the fey. One thorn fled into the swamp as Wingclipper made sure the fallen satyr breathed no more. Layla had watched as the ranger broke down in gut-wrenching sobs, his vengeance finally brought about, oblivious to the berserker’s continued threats.

With Wingclipper’s aid they had stripped the keep of any remaining treasures, avoiding any dangers with the ranger’s knowledge. Following recent tracks, their trackers figured the last giant toad to have eaten the fled halfling, and then fled into the swamp, probably ridden by the druid the ranger told them of. Adding coins and black pearls from the keep to the satyr’s magical pipes, ring, bracers and potions. Now they headed back toward Turvin, the despondent ranger accompanying them, caring little for conversation and taking no heed of his surroundings.

Late the next day they reached the quiet hamlet, welcomed once more by the ruddy-faced mayor. He was more than happy to grant their promised reward when they revealed the fey would cause no more trouble. As they took their well-deserved rest, considering where to spend their treasures and find a nature priest to restore Xarban’s form, humans and elves from the forest came looking for them. Dressed in hides and leathers, the well-armed woodland dwellers were part of the Order of the Crystal Lake. Layla knew of them, worshippers of Water dedicated to protecting the Forest of the Lakes and the fey within.

They had spoken to agents of the Gossamer Court and Turvin was safe once more from the fey’s attention. Impressed with the Company of Rifter, they had offered a place among their ranks for any willing to take oaths to protect the forest. It was little surprise that the elven druid was the most willing, joining them in a ritual performed a little way into the woodlands. Their leader, a tall halfelf by the name of Gauradan, had tried to restore Xarban’s spirit to a new body. Although a gnomish body had formed from his nature magics, no soul filled the vessel, and it soon crumbled back into dust, the spell failing. It appeared that Hesak had claimed the soul of their companion, a costly price for his brief time among the adventurers.

Wingclipper settled down in the village, willing to carve wood and guard them from any fey attacks. None seemed to hold him responsible for the troubles and the Order of the Crystal Lake would keep watch on the woodland tracker. Layla and her companions bade farewell to Turvin, reaching Corelane two days later where they hoped to sell their spoils of adventure. With the noble’s gilded tongue and her own beguiling talents, they found buyers for all of their goods, splitting over twenty thousand gold pieces among the Company of Rifter. It was good to be in a civilised city once more, where Layla could enjoy the small pleasures her coin could bring.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Warden's Pursuit

Temaka loathed the cities of the lesser ones. The squalid habitations of humans, halflings, halforcs and gnomes were a painful reminder of past failures to one such as him. One day these mortal creatures would kneel to his kind, joining the unliving within a mighty realm ruled by the faithful. For now Nemis had other tasks for his champions. Temaka served among the Wardens of the Tarnished Ones, hiding among the lesser races and searching for those who had escaped the Justicar’s Bastion, primarily a group called the Company of Rifter.

The Council of Judgement charged him to execute or capture those he could. Two human males, a human female, a halfelf and a halforc were his prey. Divinations told of a halfling and human already dead, the final judgement of a Justicar no longer required. No mercy was to be given, by him or the gnomes and undead who aided Temaka in his duties. For now they watched Highsun, Marnsuel and Longsmile, confident their prey would attempt to return to the Free Cities of the Enjant League, growing bored with the rural backwaters so common to Biavor.

It was Temaka’s destiny to judge and destroy the fools who had already escaped justice once. His lineage was an ancient one, his kind migrating from the Eastern Lands to serve their devilish master who ruled the undead. Only a canny foe could defeat such as he, for his race were powerful beings, strong in magic and mighty in form. From what his spies knew and from what others told, the Company of Rifter was unlikely to prove such a threat.

 

[PieAndDragon]

Warden's Judgement

So much was lost to him, and there was little he knew for sure of his past. His companions named him Derris, of the De Marko family in Biavor. Yet since pixies had stolen his memories, he could not picture his mother or father, and knew not even his brothers and sisters, or in fact if he had any at all. Powerful spells could possibly restore what he had lost, but every day pained him, as he struggled to discern truth from falsehood. His best path forward lay with the Company of Rifter, the berserker, dwarf, druid, enchantress, nomad and sun priest who formed his group of companions and friends. The only other link Derris had to his past was a letter from the Biavor military, asking him to keep a look out for a woman named Amelie, a deserter from the army he apparently knew of.

Their time in Corelane had been fruitful and they planned for a journey to the Free Cites, where Derris was told, their adventuring career had begun. There were also a tale of a time imprisoned, escaping death sentences from those known as the Wardens of the Tarnished Ones, founding their Company alongside Layla, Sam, Ra and three others since dead. Slayers of troglodytes, destroyers of undead hordes, slayers of man-eating bears, that was who they were. But the noble knew little of this. All he held were the memories of battles in the swampland and a growing resentment of the fey who caused many of his troubles.

After two weeks resting within the city, some were growing bored. While the dwarf spent his days at the forge, Snarf and Laucien hunted with the druid’s eagle, the sun priest wrote his magical scrolls and Derris plied the inns and taverns, entertaining others with his impressive weapon skills. Where others drew crowds with song, dance or comedy, the noble fascinated others with fast hands and flashing blades. Weaving patterns in the air around him with rapier, dagger and sickle, the city-folk were always impressed, throwing him coins and other tokens of appreciation.

During the times they gathered together, the Company of Rifter discussed their next way forward. Among the ruined keep, they had found a knag of wood with strange markings and the name of a long-dead noble. Through Layla’s diligence and charms, she found the tale of a vampire and his burnt keep in the Wood of Torrek-Em in the Free Cities. There was said to be ancient treasures at the keep, including a fiendish artifact which turned the bearer into one of the undead. Their second offer came from the Enjant Adventurer’s Guild, magically in contact with Ra, still looking for a party to rescue the Alorean town of Luzern. Another adventuring party had not survived the trip, reporting only the transformation of the townsfolk into undead. Although offered more money, there were rumours of agents from the Beholder Lands near Luzern, something the berserker was certainly not keen on.

Both offers of work were to the west, and turning down offers to slay kobold and similar menial tasks, the Company of Rifter followed the road back through the heart of Biavor, heading toward the Free City of Highsun, where their final choice of destination would be made. A new companion joined them too, a quiet and pretty human from Corelane, a lightly armoured girl who fought with a dagger in each hand. Her name was Dawn, and she had spoken only a little to the noble, probably overawed by his standing in Biavor. After the city of Shar, the Company had its first surprise. When a celestial being flew down from the sky, gloriously armoured and bearing a greatsword on its back, it was Derris who spoke to them. The being was a servant of justice, a member of the Wardens of the Tarnished Ones who hunted the Company of Rifter.

The winged warrior did not attack them, speaking only of their trials and the charges laid to them in the Bastion of the Justicars. Although Derris remembered nothing of his time there, Ra and Layla answered questions while the nomad remained silent. In return the being warned them of a strange alliance at the core of the Wardens, a devil and angel dedicated to the application of law above all other things. Knowing no more than he had been told, the noble found it hard to worry about a group on another plane, who had more to worry about than a wandering adventuring company. When the celestial took flight once more, they journeyed on through the farmlands of his homeland.

Derris enjoyed far too much wine when they celebrated the new year at Marnsuel, and at Highsun their path changed again. A letter from his family was handed to him the evening they reached the Free City. It was from the father he did not remember, wanting to use the Company of Rifter to stop giant attacks on the edge of their lands. Strange weather was linked to a tower overlooking the village, and the temple of Earth there was willing to pay a reward up front for a seasoned company of adventurers willing to return things to normal. Relieved to have another option apart from undead to battle, Derris’es companions happily chose to aid the De Marco family, only the priest of Sun looking sad with their changed plans. The noble was unsure what to feel, and how his family would react to him. How would he be received by his father? Were there any complications he knew anything of awaiting him at his home?

Another surprise awaited them on the journey south to the De Marco lands. A lone unarmoured gnome braved the shallow snow, demanded for them to halt, at the order of the Wardens of the Tarnished Ones. It was not he who caused them to stop, but the bolt of lightning from behind them, summoned by a flying green-skinned horned ogre, invisible to them before. Derris, the dwarf and druid battled ragged, ice covered corpses as the berserker cut down the gnome. Prayers to Sun from the priest depleted the undead ranks and when the flying ogre vanished once more, Layla tracked it with her magics. Fortune did not favour them though. The ogre cut the sun priest in two a sword twice as tall as the dwarf, denying them vengeance as it fled into the sky, dispersing into a gaseous cloud, sparkling briefly as the enchantress covered it in magical dust. The chilling undead were easily overcome by the remainder of the Company of Rifter, leaving them with the corpse of Ra to tend and the flying ogre to curse.

End of Session Six

 

[PieAndDragon]

Bitter Failure

Temaka sat alone in the dark of the cave, a cold wind whistling past his cross-legged form. The taste of bitter failure was a thing rarely known to Temaka, used to quick victories and easy glory. At the price of one execution, he had lost his undead minions, his gnome aide, his pride, and the respect of the Wardens of the Tarnished Ones. Not only would he receive little more aid, but his foes knew that someone was hunting them.

How had they grown so strong in such a short time? Where had their allies come from? He had executed the priest of Ra, but the halfelf noble, human enchantress and nomad warrior remained, waiting for his judgement of their crimes. His fetches, toughened undead blessed with a chilling touch, had been overwhelmed far more quickly than expected. And the gnome warrior-monk, a warrior of Earth, had barely stood his ground against the creature of the Beholder Lands, falling in moments. The accursed enchantress had been his bane, blinding Temaka with a sparkling dust.

Nevertheless, he had a task to carry out, and more judgements to consider. Spies at Highsun had told him of his prey’s destination. He would take the form of a human and find what he could at the De Marco Estates. He would find new allies and lay new plans. He would wait and strike at the best moment, when he was strong and his foes were weak. Temaka would make his executions and be honoured among the Justicars once more.

There would be no failure the second time.