Chapter One: The Iron Sphere of Sthombo

Suddenly, a faintly luminous amber figure steps out from the bole of the tree.

It's fuzzy and indistinct at first, as it leans what would be its head down toward the smoke. It begins to come into focus, the glowing fuzz coalescing into the clear shape of a human body: a young woman, her long hair in braids, wearing dozens of anklets, bracelets, belts, and necklaces beaded with acorns, leaves, and oak galls.

When the shade straightens herself up you can see the horizontal gash in her neck and the cross-shaped pattern of stab wounds in her abdomen.

"I'm thirsty," she whispers. "Did you bring me wine?"

"Yes, my lady," the old woman says. "Clephus has your wine. Do you remember Clephus, my grandson?"

The shade nods. The old woman beckons Clephus forward, then shoots a quick glance back at Felor and gestures for him to stay put. Clephus approaches slowly with the jugs, removes the stopper from one of them, and pours it out at the shade's feet, into the earthen basin at the roots of the tree.

The shade makes a sour face. "Nettle wine."

"That is all we have, my lady. Are you hungry?"

"I suppose."

Clephus pours out the other jug.

Any thoughts or reactions from Felor at this point?

This is all quite new and strange to Felor.

"Thank you," the shade says as the oil seeps into the earth. "You may go now. I'm tired. Beetles assail my husband and it exhausts me to seek out and burn their little souls one by one. I suppose you cannot possibly fathom the immensity of my responsibilities. I must rest."

"Good mistress," Clephus says, as his grandmother shoots him a death glare, "spare us another moment of your time? We have brought someone who wishes to meet you. A traveller in these woods."

The shade immediately looks up at Felor, seeming to notice him for the first time. Her spectral eyes widen. "Who is he? Why have you brought him here?"

"My apologies, my lady," the old woman says. "We will remove him from your--"

"No! I would hear him explain himself. Who are you? What business do you have in my husband's wood!?"

~ MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE LONGHOUSE ~

It's wet and cold and a large and surprisingly loud owl seems to have taken offense to Vad and Felor's presence, as he flits from one end of the ruin to the other, hooting indignantly.

The ray of frost misses by a considerable margin, but succeeds in offending the owl enough that it leaves.

The shade looks displeased. "I know nothing of this man, or ogre's pates, or the wicked city of Sthombo. Why did you come to me?"

"Good mistress," Clephus says hesitantly, "you -- you have visions. I thought perhaps you might --"

"Why?" she demands. "Why should I? When beetles are eating my husband alive and you bring me only nettle wine and bland oil? Why should I cast out my sight for this stranger you bring into my woods?"

"I'm so sorry, my lady!" the old woman says. "My grandson, he -- he's impulsive and foolish. Forgive us. We have made a foolish mistake and offended you. We go now."

"Is this all I am to you now? A cheap and tawdry oracle?"

"No, please! We will go to town and buy honeyed wine for you. We will never bring another stranger before you again. I promise. Please, forgive us!"

The shade sighs heavily. "What's done is done. I should have known it would come to this, that your generosity was not freely offered out of love. Of course you want something of me! Such is my lot, always to serve, ever put upon." She faces Felor again and narrows her eyes. "Two questions you may ask of me, stranger, and I will answer them as true as I can."

Clephus has taken several steps back in a cringing posture, his head hanging low. The old woman seems genuinely frightened.

The shade approaches Felor, and seems to examine the knife and shell intently for some moments. Then her eyes grow fiercely bright, and her form becomes fuzzy and indistinct again, flickering and pulsing like a candle flame in a draft.

For several long minutes she remains this way. Clephus and his grandmother exchange nervous side-eyed glances.

Then the shade's eyes dim, and she coalesces back into focus.

"The Six-Pronged Crown is the symbol of the witch-men I have seen roaming these woods. Each prong represents a tenet of the pact they made with their patron. That is the meaning of the symbol. And Zora Kells is camped on the banks of the Ophid River. That is where you might find her. I have seen my sight and spoken true. I will return to attend my husband, now."

The shade steps back into the bole of the oak and turns toward it, sinking and fading into the wood.

"Gods help us if she's in a mood now," the old woman grumbles. "That better have been worth the trouble."

Felor returns to the longhouse, where Leth is lying half-asleep and Vad sits watch. A beard of frost hangs incongruously from a branch overhead.

Yes, you would know where the Ophid is. How much money did you want to give them?

2 GP would cover a considerable upgrade over the nettle wine and whatever oil they've been bringing.

If all players have finished their business for this night, we can cut to the morning.

I'm ready! :)