Festus has grown in strange ways the last few years. Still the jocular Wodin he always was, his humor has nonetheless taken a turn for the dark. He jokes of death often now and more than once has thrown himself into hopeless battles. Where this psychosis, this death wish is coming from is anyone’s guess. He still never talks about his early life. Seemingly, life began with his rescue from Rakaricon’s tower. Any mention of events before that brings a scowl to his face.
In the intervening years, Festus’ power has grown. As the companions quests for clues to the ancient legends, many strange magical artifacts and curios have emerged which, by default, pass through Festus’ hands. For the most part, the companions travel inconspicuously trying not to draw attention, but when fully equipped, Festus is a strange and terrible sight to behold. There are many exotic rings on his fingers, two necklaces each of black ebony on his neck, a collection of bones in a bag on his waist, pollocks that glow eirily in the night with dark runes holding a tattered cloak with a drawing of an eagle eating a half-man, half boar … the list goes on.
Festus spend long hours in the Aether. Sometimes talking to Lokar but often times just wondering. He always comes back with a hollow look in his eyes, has a deep drink and goes for a quiet solitary walk. His relationship with Scase is one of complete trust and though he would never say it, Belkin is perhaps the best friend he ever had. The two don’t ask much about each other and just trust the other is doing his job.