The Saga of Jake Mandrake: Druid of Justice

In the early years of Arelithian history, the Banites terrorized the island from their dark stronghold of Stonehold. It is said that the fortress was warped into being by the Black Wizard Morghun, shaped through chaos and molten stone.

When the Black Wizard withdrew into the Forest of Despair, the Banites claimed Stonehold for themselves. Using a hidden portal, they filled it with devils and struck at the island with iron and fire.

Those who cloaked themselves in Good took refuge in Light Keep. They mired themselves in politics and hesitation, and by the time they acted, much of the slaughter and tragedy had already passed. Only then did they gather their celestial allies and march on Stonehold, bringing the fortress to its knees.

None knew that the Black Wizard had cursed the land. All who fell there were bound to wander its halls for eternity. Even when their flesh rotted from their bones, they continued to rise, gathering again and again to wage war against the living.

Even with the Banites temporarily subdued, the evil within Stonehold continued to shake the island. Its reach extended all the way to the palace of Cordor, where our story begins.

The Cordorian palace was a vision of white marble, trimmed with gold. On a particularly clear day, Lord Vetinari, famed ruler of Cordor, paced before one of its massive arched windows and gazed toward distant Stonehold. It lay drenched in black clouds and thick fog. Evil lurked there.

"Gods damnit! That evil will spread, engulfing the island and the Pax Cordoria. With Good so slow to act, who are we meant to turn to for aid?" Vetinari lamented.

As if summoned by the wind itself, a man vaulted through the open window. He landed in a crouch, every inch of him clad in the leather trappings of a Naturewalker, with two katanas strapped in an overlarge cross upon his back.

"I am Jake Mandrake, and I have heard your plea, King!"

"Lord," Vetinari corrected.

"Lord King of Cordor! I will aid you against this darkness. As a druid, it is my sacred duty to fight big monsters and necromanceries. I will protect this kingdom!"

"Pax," Vetinari corrected again, his patience thinning. "And what skills do you possess that might defeat such legendary evil?"

"I swore to destroy all undead when my family was eaten by zombies and gosts-- " He paused, clearing his throat. "Ghosts. That vow has given me great strength!"

"That is...very touching," Vetinari said, "but it will take more than one man with a vendetta to--"

Before he could finish, Jake Mandrake performed an unnecessary backflip out the same window he had entered.

"Onward, to fight Evil!"

Vetinari stared after him for a long moment, then sighed. "Adventurers."

Jake Mandrake landed on his horse and declared, "It is time to do this."

The moment the words left his mouth, the horse surged forward as if stirred by hidden magic.

As he approached Stonehold, the sky dimmed beneath a wall of heavy clouds. Jake Mandrake drew his katanas, vaulted from the saddle and brought a tree down with a single sweeping strike. His blades were ready. He was ready.

A sea of skeletons choked the barren lands around Stonehold. They stood frozen like forgotten statues, their eyeless sockets fixed on nothing and everything at once. The air itself felt wrong. A sour, heavy darkness clung to the ground and crawled up the spine like cold fingers.

Jake Mandrake raised his katanas high and shouted, "Begone, evil!"

A druidic spell answered his cry. Lightning tore down from the clouds in roaring sheets of white fire, splitting the gloom and shattering the undead ranks. Bones exploded into dust as the storm carved a path straight toward the fortress.

Jake Mandrake kicked in the doors and stormed into Stonehold. The stink of rot hit him first, thick enough to taste. Heat rolled in from the open lava channels, sharp and bright, searing his eyes.

Undead swarmed the hall in twisted clusters. He cut through them as he pushed toward the Throne. A greater undead waited there, seated in armor, a sword in one hand and a shield resting against its arm as if it had been expecting him.

"You dare destroy my army, human?" the leader roared from the wrought iron throne. "You are nothing."

"I am Jake Mandrake!" he answered, springing toward the throne with both katanas raised.

The leader lifted his shield in a single sharp motion. Magic surged across its surface as it met the strike. The moment the blades touched, they shattered into glittering fragments.

"No," Jake Mandrake shouted. "Those were a gift from my father. You will pay for this. /I/ will make you pay, for it is my duty as a Druid of Justice."

Jake Mandrake lunged forward in a burst of primal fury; blinding and feral. He balled his fists and hammered them against the undead leader. Each strike landed harder than the last, fueled by something ancient and savage. He drove the creature back step by step until there was nowhere left for it to stand.

With a final, brutal blow, Jake Mandrake sent the undead leader hurtling into the churning lava below. The leader clawed at the air in a last, hopeless scramble before the lava swallowed him whole.

With his fall, the undead collapsed into stillness, and the curse recoiled, sinking back into the depths of Stonehold. The blight no longer reached across the island. Above, the clouds thinned into pale blue, and the dead earth slowly returned to green.

Evil was defeated. For now.

[Based on a true story! Written by Marlo Fenwick Starmere of the Ruckus Troupe]