27 Eleint 2993
Fernweh
Fernweh’s return to Gosterwick does not seem nearly as triumphant as he had expected it to. After a poor night’s sleep interspersed with uninvited images of children dying at the Temple of Jael, he immediately carries himself to the doors of the Benevolent Brotherhood. There, in exchange for one last 50-gp gem, Anders the Snake further hones his ability to use sneakery to inflict damage on unprepared foes.
Throughout the week, however, he finds increasing his abilities a bit unfulfilling. He is already sneaky. He is already proficient with the weapons of his trade. None of that had been able to prevent the events of Mabon whose memories now fester like a wound given poor treatment by a village hack.
In the evenings, he returns to Poor Larrys to practice his modest gaming grift and to see if Euwin (Azure Keep), Jerikko (Residence) or Mikkelman (dairy vendor) make mention of any changes to the comings and goings of the Keep or Residence, with particular interest in information even tangentially related to yellow-robed cultists or the Halflings Ace and Plumthorn. Jerikko told Fernweh a crazy story of a flash of light in the garden during the early evening of the 20th of The Fading, prior to the party’s arrival into Gosterwick after the second battle of the Temple of Jael. Jerikko started to investigate the flash, seeming to come from a dark, back corner of the garden, when a tall elf strode past him somehow MORE elfish than other elves he’d seen, flashed a badge showing he was allowed in the Residence, and entered the compound yelling to speak to the Green Lady immediately. Strange tidings for sure.
Neither the training, the gaming, nor the information gathering feel satisfying, though. He feels very little at all. He keeps returning to images of the horrible creature at the temple. Like some of the other creatures described by his fellow adventurers, it seemed not of this world.
Though not blessed with particularly great intelligence, he wants to know everything there is to know of such things without exposing the fact that his party had been at Jael or seen the creature that it did.
He does gain some information from a learned adventurer, who shares a term for such creatures as well as the following general information:
Aberrations “draw power from their strange nature rather than magic as we know it. A lot of aberrations have powers associated with brain stuff and minds that cannot be read …. [T]he scary thing about an aberration is their unfathomable motives. …Most …are evil [and very old]…[Many] have the ability to read your thoughts…. Really the scariest thing about an aberration [is] the fact it completely donks up …your magic…your healing…. It can even make you see things that aren’t there….”
As alien as these beings sound, Fernweh finds himself even more disturbed by the intensity of the anger he feels when thinking of them and of the events at the altar. When, during his training, his swings and parries become wild and lose their refinement, Anders the Snake susses out a very general sense that Fernweh’s last outing involved a difficult choice that was eating away at him and dismisses him from the remainder of his training: “You got stuck between two horns, and you’re still there. Come back when you’re ready to live the life of a rogue.”
Dejected, Fernweh considers a trip to a tavern, then to the Silver Cloud Casino, unfettered by any strategy and ready to be lost in the joy of gambling. He remembers the large gem he left in the donation box in Rowan Faribrow’s alcove at the Hill of the Gods. He could easily double it within a couple of hours at the tables.
Upon reaching the altar, though, he realizes he had no intention of actually raiding the donation box (which has clearly already been emptied, as he knew it would be).
He raises his head from the box and confesses, as if having not been aware of it himself until now: He has once again failed to honor Fairbrow’s principles of protection, security, and love. He had been telling himself that rescuing one child from the Old Forest temple would save the rest as well, but, even before the aberration killed most of those that remained, he knew he was protecting only his own ego. He had rationalized his actions by weighing the nonstop deceit of the druids and fey against the visible reality of the children’s lives, but now it seemed he had only been taking refuge in self-righteousness in order to avoid feeling the pain that would have been part of the price paid to protect and secure the countless innocents whose faces he did not have to see.
He finds his body more at ease, his mind open. He hears the familiar voice of Rowan Fairbrow. This time she sounds more concerned than inviting. Fernweh finds himself raising his sword. He vows that he will see the aberrations’ and cultists’ machinations fail, vows to make them pay dearly, vows to no longer fight the horns of the dilemma but to fight the powers that placed him, his party, and those unable to protect themselves between them.
His blade cracks with thunder, the Booming Blade a gift from Rowan Fairbrow (who takes, in return, his ability to control flames). This being the Hill of the Gods, no dust falls from the ceiling and timbers, but the noise seems to awaken something.
The ghost of a dwarf rises through the floor. His blade still raised, Fernweh levels its tip at the spectre. The ghost’s angry visage is not further perturbed, however, as Fernweh recognizes him as Hatchen Mallet, member of the former 3rd Cohort. Surprised to see him, then further surprised to hear about his coming to town and death on the plateau, Hatchen pledges himself as companion and protector of Fernweh.
Adding a new donation to the alms box of Rowan Fairbrow to the tune of 250 gp to pay his patron back for her help and to atone for his impure thoughts regarding theft from his god, Fernweh leaves the temple with a translucent dwarf floating beside him, his own eyes now capable of darkvision, his body capable of an improved version of medium armor proficiency, his mind now able to speak and read both Dwarvish and Deep Speech and inclined towards having a Long Memory for Grudges. (3rd-level Rogue, subclass “Grudgebearer”; 1st-level Divine Soul Sorcerer)
Fenpenny
The streets of Gosterwick, bustling as ever, inspire in Fenpenny Copperleaf a strange mix of relief and heaviness. He and the rest of the Reconstituted Third Cohort return victorious, in a way, but nonetheless the bitter sting of failure weighs on his heart. Of the five orphans taken by the fey, only two are saved. That knowledge lingers in his mind as he makes his way back to the Dancing Horse Inn, a place that has begun to feel like home after so many journeys.
Still, Fenpenny tries to focus on what he and his comrades from the 3rd Cohort have accomplished. “Better two than none,” he reminds himself, even as the warnings from the druids echo in his ears. The dire consequences of their interference hang like a dark cloud. But, for now, he pushes it aside. Other things demand his attention.
As soon as he drops off his gear, Fenpenny considers heading right back to the Little Acorns Orphanage. Annie, Oakley, and the others had so dominated his thoughts for the past many days that it was difficult to think of anything else. And hadn’t he promised to check in? Yes, he had. Only an hour ago, but still..
So Fenpenny returns to the orphanage, which seems to sag under the weight of its own misery, with little warmth or joy. As Fenpenny enters, he encounters Garrin Ashcopse, the headmaster, whose gray, middle-aged face is marked with the weariness of a man who sees his job more as a burden than a calling. Ashcopse mentions in passing that the children have been talking about Fenpenny, though he hasn’t bothered to inquire about the details. Still, for Aschropse even this observation might qualify as the peak of attentiveness. With a dismissive wave, he lets Fenpenny past.
In the common room, Fenpenny is greeted by Annie and Oakley smiles and coos upon seeing Fenpenny, and he returns Annie’s greeting in stilted Thorcin. She immediately begins teasing him about his struggles with the language, which Fenpenny had begun speaking with her on the trek back from the Old Forest. It has been a difficult language for him to master, especially given its intricate vowel patterns and unfamiliar grammatical structures, but many of the children at the orphanage speak it fluently. Annie playfully points out Fenpenny’s mispronunciations, laughing as he tries his best to keep up with her fluent exchanges with him and other children. His stumbles and mistakes provide her with a rare source of amusement, but the warmth in her laughter and Oakley’s cooing encourages him to keep trying.
On each of the next few days Fenpenny returns to the orphanage, more determined than ever to improve his Thorcin. The common room, its furniture worn and faded, becomes his informal classroom, where the children—particularly Annie, help him practice. Their quick, precise conversations often leave Fenpenny struggling to keep pace, but he welcomes the challenge.
Despite his magical bardic abilities, mastering the more mundane nuances of Thorcin proves difficult. The children, however, are patient in their teasing. They frequently correct his missteps with exaggerated examples of how the words should be spoken, turning his mistakes into learning moments. Each time Fenpenny falters, they laugh—not cruelly, but with the easy honesty only children possess, pushing him to improve without fear of embarrassment.
Fenpenny practices wherever he can, speaking Thorcin with Callum or with Raedan, the self-proclaimed Sunset Herder of Gosterwick who, if he is to be believed, previously worked as a Turnip Whisperer and Cabbage Cartographer throughout the valley. The interactions in the orphanage give him the confidence to keep trying elsewhere, and little by little, his skills sharpen.
Over the course of the seven days, a change in Fenpenny becomes noticeable. His practice with the children has not only improved his Thorcin—it has enhanced his interactions with others. When he walks through the market, vendors greet him with a warmth that hadn’t been there before. People respond to him differently. The children’s blunt honesty and superior command of the Thorcin language have helped Fenpenny hone his ability to listen, not just to words, but to the emotions behind them. Conversations with strangers flow more naturally, and he intuitively understands people better, without getting so caught up on the meaning of their words. After all, isn’t communication about understanding other people?
By the end of the seven days, Fenpenny feels the blossoming of a deeper change. These seven days have not just been about learning a language–they have been about learning to connect. The teasing and playful banter with the orphans, the small victories in conversation at the market, and the quiet moments of reflection all contribute to his growth. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, Fenpenny finds himself better able to connect to the weave, to listen to the notes his magic can elicit from it. Thankful for these gifts, Fenpenny donates 325 gp to the orphanage (300 for level increase and 25 gp for the downtime learning Thorcin). The gift, a welcome surprise to the headmaster, even has him greeting Fenpenny’s visits with warmth.
He awakes on the 28th of the fading a fourth-level lore bard with improved charisma and additional spell slots.
