Appearance

Physical Description

Fen’s hulking form stands 7’8" and is covered in layers of dirt and dust-encrusted hide armor. Patches of various animal pelts hang from him and can be seen layered beneath his frayed green, mud-smeared cloak. His shaggy black mane of fur cascades down his back and over his shoulders; dispersed randomly throughout are braids, strips of leather, feathers, and stone beads. Long tufts of hair hang down from his chin and cheeks, coalescing into a large beard that covers his broad chest. Protruding from both sides of his head are large ornately engraved horns, decorated with strips of leather, feathers, and beads, creating the impression of an ornately carved wooden crown. Piercing both his ears and nose are crescent moon shaped stones, and several straps of leathered beadwork dangle from his forearms. When standing, his heavy cloven hooves and long tufted tail are clearly visible. He sounds like wooden windchimes and thunder.
 
Either strapped to his back, or cradled in his arms, Fen’s weapon of choice is a living oak tree trunk that has somehow encased a large grey quartzite boulder within its roots. At times he may be found speaking to it, watering it, or pruning one of its many branches.

Mentality

Personal history

Thin cries echoed throughout the Feymoor Valley the night of the Autumn Equinox. Morgan, resident huntsman, set off mid morning to track down their source, and was later joined in his search by several druids of the Stone Circle of Mallomere.
 
Their search led them up the path across the Circle to stand on the edge of the Sunderwood Cliffs. Below them, at the mouth of a cliffside cave, were swaddled wrappings cradled in the branches of a gnarled oak tree. As his companions looked on, Morgan navigated an old goat trail to the mouth of the cave and rescued the squalling bundle from the swaying branches. Donna, a half-elven initiate of the first circle, collected the bundle from Morgan upon his return, and immediately began comforting the small form with gentle coos.
 
Planar visitors were not unfamiliar in Feymoor, and this prompted an abundance of caution. Once Donna and Morgan were within the safety of the Circle and surrounded by their compatriots, they gently began to unswathe their tiny guest. Shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd as Donna pulled the blanket away and two small cloven hooves were revealed. A tiny, velvety hand gently grasped her fingers, pulling them to its snout to suckle them enthusiastically. Instead of recoiling in fear, Donna found herself delighted by the furry baby’s diminutive snorts and gentle bovine face, and once she was lost in his soft green eyes her life was forever changed.
 
Many previous planar visitations were not friendly. And so, even as an infant, the small creature’s presence was an unwelcome sight to many of Feymoor’s Druidic Circle. They felt its sudden appearance was suspicious, auspices were poor, and that evil forces were at play. But despite the vocal opposition of their peers, Morgan and Donna argued to become the baby’s foster parents. They strongly believed that no creature was inherently evil, and with proper upbringing and guidance, he would become a valued member of their community. The Elder druids believed this to be at best foolish idealism, and at worst, pure balderdash. Since they refused to participate in what they considered to be a dangerously insane social experiment, the Elders relocated Donna, Morgan, and their adopted “son” to the southern outskirts of the Feymoor Valley – a stretch of land known as The Flooded Forest.
 
Fenandlittlesister.pngDonna and Morgan named the baby Fen, after the swampland that was now their home and sanctuary. As they raised him in partnership, Donna and Morgan found love in one another as well, beginning a young family with a growing minotaur as its scion. Mirroring their faith and affection from the time he could walk, Fen showed no malice towards others; in fact he was highly protective of anything smaller than himself – which was most things – and in particular, his younger siblings Dorian, Catelyn, and Bridgit. Trained in Druidic magic by their mother and the way of the hunter by their father, Fen and his siblings grew to become indispensable defenders of the valley. This fact would not go unnoticed by many of their peers, and it wasn’t long before Donna and Morgan were recognized for their wisdom, dedication, and vision. And in his twelfth year, already standing head and shoulders over most men, Fen acquitted himself valiantly through the fortification and reconstruction effort of an uncommonly severe flood season. The town of Little Brook threw a celebration in his name, and Elder Griffith shocked everyone by approaching the boy he had rejected, tying a special string of beads to Fen’s horned crown to credit his valour and strength.
 
Shortly after the 15th anniversary of Fen’s rescue, his mother Donna was anointed with the title of Archdruid of Feymoor, and his father Master Huntsman of the Vale. Although their elevated status afforded them much leniency and favor with the locals, the family remained in the Flooded Forest, which had long since become a refuge, not an exile.
 
Throughout the years, Fen made a weekly pilgrimage to the cliffside cave near the Circle, or “Fen’s Roost,” as the locals came to call it. They would often come across him meditating by the gnarled oak tree he called Ayla, muttering to himself (and to her) in deep contemplation… rearranging rocks and deadfall to honour some sacred geometry… or visiting with tiny wildlife, like the dozens of butterflies that would alight and rest on him during their migratory season. But it wasn’t always so peaceful and serene at Fen’s Roost, especially around the anniversary of his childhood rescue, as the leaves began to turn. It was an occasion of great joy for his family, but one of great anxiety for the valley folk. Since Fen’s discovery, the Stone Circle of Mallomere had grown more fitful, and dangerous creatures were encountered more often up on Sunderwood Cliffs, the worst of them appearing on the Autumn Equinox so consistently as to provoke fear and superstition. So as a precaution, the Valley’s defenders would gather near the stones and make preparations at that time of year.
 
It was on Fen’s 27th “birthday” when the sky opened, and everything changed.
 
On the edge of the Stone Circle of Mallowmere, Fen’s family settled in for second watch that night, since it was customary for the stronger members of the Druidic circle to take watch at twilight on the Equinox. When Selune’s Grace crested the edge of the Sunderwood Mountains and bathed the valley in moonlight, a thunderous clap split the air. An ebony gash tore open the sky above the Stone Circle, blocking out the stars and the moon. The Circle’s defenders began to gag and retch as a gale of fetid air emanated from the anomaly with an ominous roar. Poisonous ochre clots drifted from the sky, coating the field in which they stood and quenching their torches. Encompassed in darkness Donna instructed two hunters to run to the village for help, just as her forces began to scream.
 
A wet object struck Fen before it tumbled to the ground at his feet. He crouched down to get a better look, and blanched at the sight of the severed arm that lay before him. He recoiled as the carrion-infested fingers lashed out where he was mere seconds ago. Horrified cries could be heard from other defenders as they made similar shocking discoveries. Fen swatted the offensive limb away with his battle axe, stood, and began to stumble around in the darkness seeking his family.
 
The battlefield clamour drowned out Fen’s bellows, but as an overwhelming sense of dread began to set in, a flash of bright light bathed the field in warm daylight. Gazing through his fingers towards its source, Fen could see Donna, her glowing staff held aloft, rallying the survivors to her side. With the darkness held at bay, the newly illuminated shambling figures burst into flames, clearing the way for Fen to join them. Emboldened, Fen dashed towards his mother, his battle axe cleaving through the burning, shambling abominations clustered between them.
 
It was then a tremor traveled through the entire cliffside, knocking Fen’s feet out from beneath him, as a flood of flesh and bone spilled out from the rift above him. Carcases and carrion continued to shower down from above, exploding upon impact and covering Fen in offal and rot as he fought to get to his feet. A wave of flesh and bone stacked taller than a man surged his way, the crackling and tearing of flesh clearly audible as a towering form began to emerge from the mound of flesh.
 
The muddy ground, saturated with blood and ichor of the fallen, clung to Fen’s legs as he clambered to stand before the giant figure towering over him. Donna’s screams could be heard as the gargantuan humanoid form peered down at Fen with empty eyesockets. Spellbound by the sight before him, Fen’s last memory of the night is of the figure raising its left arm across its torso and backhanding him off the side of the Sunderwood Cliffs.
 
When Fen regained consciousness, It was the following morning. He found himself draped over the trunk of a familiar gnarled cliffside oak tree, Ayla, which had saved him again. But she was uprooted, her ropy tendrils enfolding a quartzite boulder he had not seen below the earth. Fen collected himself and cradled Ayla, casting his gaze across Feymoor Loch. As the morning light began to fill the valley, the ichor that coated the land began to burn away and withdraw to the shadow cast by the ebony gash in the sky, leaving withered vegetation and a sickened land.
 
The defenders were thinned, but the survivors proudly standing, taking shifts to join forces and contain the decay still issuing slowly from the portal. Donna rushed to Fen’s side and embraced him, her worst fears alleviated – her family had survived the night, and witnessed the recession of the foul poisons with the light of day. But the gash in the sky remained, and the night promised further horrors in their once pristine and verdant wood.
 
With the valley befouled, its defenders strained, and the veil between planes remaining terrifyingly thin, Fen was tasked by his mother to travel the world and find aid and assistance.

Personality

Social