Sessio X -- Strange Bedfellows

Author's Note: In the old days of D&D, it was not uncommon for a single player to run multiple characters at once, since ability scores (and thus character class) were determined at random, and character death was so common. As part of this solo-adventure experiment, I've decided to round out Avicellus's lone adventuring with a small party. I generated three more characters with straight 3D6 rolls, and I am introducing them now. They will connect with Avicellus and Lorenzo after this. Sometimes, adventures may include all four, sometimes just a pair, and other times an adventure may showcase only one (and it may not be Avicellus). I have provided brief backstories at the end of this entry.

In the labyrinthine streets of Florence, where the Arno River whispered secrets to the stone bridges, Fiona Byrne navigated the shadows like a ghost from Hibernia's misty shores. At 24, she was a rogue of cunning grace, her lithe frame clad in a simple gown that hid daggers and lockpicks. Two years in this city of merchants and schemers had taught her to prey on the unwary. She'd found "marks" in pilgrims, traders, nobles, and now, a pair of travelers who seemed ripe for the plucking. She had overheard them in a tavern: Godefried, a grizzled fighter with a pronounced limp, and Fr. Malachi Serafin, a lanky cleric clutching a worn hammer at his belt. They spoke of shadowy factions and artifacts, their voices laced with purpose. Fiona saw opportunity in their guarded words -- a con to relieve them of their coin and perhaps more.

Posing as a destitute noblewoman named Elena di Verona, Fiona crafted her tale with the precision of a master thief. She "accidentally" bumped into them near the Duomo, her eyes wide with feigned distress. "Sirs, forgive my clumsiness," she said, her voice trembling. "I am Elena, fleeing from Venice after my family's ruin by Medici spies. I seek honest men to aid me in retrieving a hidden heirloom: a reliquary said to hold a splinter of the True Cross. In return, I offer a share of its value." Godefried, his scarred face stern under a threadbare Teutonic Order cloak, eyed her suspiciously, his hand resting on his sword hilt. Fr. Malachi, with his Gaulish accent and kind eyes, nodded sympathetically. "Child, St. Joseph watches over those fleeing dangerous lands. Tell us more."

Over the next days, Fiona wove her web. She led them to a rented chamber in a quiet inn, showing forged documents and a fake map to a "buried cache" outside the city walls. She claimed the reliquary was guarded by traps only she could navigate, but she needed their muscle and faith to claim it. At Fr. Malachi's insistence, Godefried provided gold for supplies, grumbling about his aching leg from old wounds in Jerusalem. Fr. Malachi blessed her endeavors, his holy hammer gleaming as he prayed for success. Fiona's heart raced; the con was elaborate, involving staged "encounters" with hired thugs posing as pursuers to build trust. She planned to vanish with their pouch during the "retrieval," leaving them chasing ghosts.

But fate turned on the third night. As they ventured to the outskirts under cover of darkness, Fiona slipped away to "scout ahead," intending to circle back and rob their camp. Unbeknownst to her, Godefried's instincts, honed in desert ambushes, had grown wary. He followed silently, his limp masked by careful steps. When Fiona doubled back to their packs, rifling through for the gold and Malachi's hammer, suspecting it a relic worth fortunes, Godefried emerged from the shadows. "Thief!" he bellowed, his sword drawn. Fiona spun, dagger in hand, but his grasp was iron despite his injury. Fr. Malachi arrived moments later, his face a mix of disappointment and fury. "By St. Joseph, what deceit is this?"

They bound her wrists with rope from Godefried's pack and dragged her back to the inn, locking her in a small storeroom. "We should turn her to the guards," Godefried growled, pacing with a wince. "Florence hangs thieves." Fr. Malachi shook his head, his hammer laid on the table like a judge's gavel. "She is young, lost like so many in this sinful city. Perhaps redemption is possible. St. Joseph was a carpenter, building from broken wood. Let us pray on it." Fiona sat in the dim light, her mind racing for escape. She pleaded innocence at first, then spat defiance: "You pilgrims are fools, carrying wealth in a den of wolves." The men debated through the night: Godefried favored justice, Malachi mercy. "She has skills," the priest argued. "In Jerusalem, even sinners fought beside us against the hordes."

As dawn crept in, something shattered the impasse. A thunderous knock echoed at the inn's door, followed by shouts and the clash of steel. Godefried peered out, his face paling. "Medici henchmen—dozens, armed to the teeth." The innkeeper's voice carried: "We're looking for two foreigners and a girl. They stole documents from the Archives." Fiona's eyes widened; her network had whispered of a recent heist involving a plague-masked mage named Avicellus and his ally Lorenzo, but she hadn't connected it. Now, the Medici's net was closing, mistaking these two for accomplices -- or perhaps drawn by rumors of the cleric's hammer.

Chaos erupted. The henchmen burst in, blades drawn, demanding surrender. Godefried barred the door to the storeroom, his sword flashing despite his limp. "Untie me!" Fiona yelled. "I can help!" Fr. Malachi hesitated, then cut her bonds with a knife. "Prove your worth, child. Fight with us, and find your path back to the light." Fiona nodded, grabbing her dagger. As the door splintered, she darted into the fray, using the shadows to flank the attackers. Godefried swung mighty blows, cleaving armor, while Malachi's hammer glowed with divine light, smiting foes with bursts of holy energy that shattered bones and banished fear.

The battle was fierce: Fiona picked locks on a side door for escape, tripping a guard with a sly kick. Godefried shielded Malachi from a crossbow bolt, grunting in pain. Fr. Malachi healed a gash on Fiona's arm mid-fight, his voice steady: "St. Joseph, guide this lost soul." Together, they repelled the assault, slipping into Florence's alleys as reinforcements arrived. Panting in a hidden courtyard, Godefried sheathed his sword. "You fought well, thief. But why help?" Fiona smirked, rubbing her wrists. "Better allies than a noose. And perhaps... I tire of running alone."

Fr. Malachi placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is no coincidence. Divine providence brought us together. Join us, Fiona—your true name, I sense. Turn from shadows to light. We seek to root out corruption in this city, and your cunning could aid that." Godefried grunted agreement. "Aye, but betray us again, and my blade ends it." Fiona met their eyes, a spark of something new igniting. In that moment, amid Florence's peril, three unlikely companions forged a bond—not just from necessity, but from the priest's unyielding faith in redemption.

Fiona told her new allies of the rumors regarding Lorenzo and a strange doctor named Avicellus. She suggested that they seek them out, as their missions seemed to be in concert with one another's. Godefried scoffed, expecting Fiona's suggestion to be nothing but another trap. Fr. Malachi, however, saw a divine hand in their meeting, and so he agreed that Fiona should help them contact Lorenzo and perhaps make an ally of this Avicellus.

They vanished into the night, ready to face the city's deeper darkness together.

Godefried's Backstory  

Godefried, a 37-year-old fighter from the Leipzig, served as a sergeant in the Teutonic Knights, protecting pilgrims in the Kingdom of Jerusalem. For over a decade, he patrolled the kingdom's borders, clashing with nomadic Dragonborn raiders from Mesopotamia and undead hordes encroaching from the Cursed Wastes, honing his skills in brutal skirmishes against barbarians and monsters. A devastating ambush by a band of desert marauders left him with a shattered leg, reducing his agility, forcing him to retire from active duty and return to Europe seeking healing and purpose, where he now offers his sword arm as a seasoned guardian in Florence's turbulent political landscape.

Fr. Malachi Serafin's Backstory  

Fr. Malachi Serafin, a 47-year-old cleric hailing from Burdigala, in the Kingdom of Gaul, was ordained in Paris and developed a profound devotion to St. Joseph, the patron of workers and the Church, viewing him as a model of quiet strength and protection. As a wandering priest, he ministered to the poor and afflicted across Europe, using his clerical powers to heal and ward off evil while carrying a revered holy hammer said to be a relic forged in Joseph's carpentry workshop. His experiences in frontier parishes tempered him into a resilient cleric, focused on spiritual guidance amid the world's lingering chaos.

How They Met and Came to Florence  

Godefried and Fr. Malachi met in Acre, a port city in the Kingdom of Jerusalem, where the injured fighter sought spiritual solace in a chapel after his wounding; the priest, on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, tended to Godefried's wounds with healing magic and counsel, forging a bond over shared tales of faith and battle against monstrous threats. Recognizing mutual purpose in combating corruption and darkness, they traveled back to Europe together, arriving in Florence to aid in the city's intrigues, drawn by rumors of shadowy factions.

Fiona Byrne's backstory

Fiona Byrne, a 24-year-old rogue from Eblana in Hibernia, grew up in the shadowy underbelly of the city's ports, honing her skills in pickpocketing and smuggling amid the Celtic clans' feuds and fey incursions from the nearby Feywild rifts. Orphaned young, she joined a thieves' guild but fled Hibernia after a botched heist exposed her to a rival clan's wrath, stowing away on a merchant ship bound for Italy to escape assassination. Settling in Florence two years ago, drawn by its wealth and political intrigue, she has survived as a freelance operative, taking jobs in espionage and artifact recovery for minor guilds while evading Medici spies, building a network of informants in the city's taverns and markets.