Ingrit moves into the room, confirming the giant's death and calling for Wapiti, before turning to silently study the woman.
"Done already?" Hadda calls out as she hears the large thud that she associates by now with a dying giant. She was glad that she was on Dom's good side. She lets her bardic magic fade and puts a fumbling hand on what she assumes is Rurik's shoulder. "Our vision should return to normal within half a minute," she says calmly. "And then we can rejoin the others."
Unable to observe the wailing woman in the room, Hadda has no cause or method to suss out whether she was friend, foe, or other.
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Rurik manages to link hands with Hadda.
"But the wailing woman—friend, foe, or free agent?"
"Uncertain. I suspect Grishelmuk in disguise, but I can't well see to make any use of that supposition." She squeezes Rurik's hand. "We trust the others to make a smart decision, yes?"
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Hadda can hear Rurik's grin as he responds, "How bad of a decision could they make in the next twenty seconds?"
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Hadda's grin stretches wider, making it even more audible. "Are you feeling lucky? It could be positively catastrophic without us."
Crasius stops his chant and approaches the woman to say, "Hello there, my name is Crasius...who might you be?"
In response to Crasius' introduction and Ingrit's silence, the woman wipes her eyes and awkwardly stands. She appears to be near to giving birth. She steps forward a few steps and then flings herself at Crasius, spreading her arms wide to hug him. "Thank Erastil! There is a hag in the area! She captured me, forced me to mate a satyr, and now has been holding me so she can take my child as a changeling! Please! Escort me to safety before she comes back!"
"That doesn't sound promising," the skeptical, blind librarian says to Rurik from a floor above.
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Nu, layno...
"Or," Hadda says, "I've spent too much time second-guessing everyone I've met to see someone in need." She grabs Rurik's hand. "Come on. You'll be able to see by the time we get down there and she might need the help of a proper herbalist." Hadda starts carefully moving her way forward, trusting her feet to maintain the footing on a spiral staircase.
As long as Adelia didn't randomly decide to walk in front of her and trip her into falling to her untimely death, she ought to be fine.
Dom moves in front of Hadda and Rurik, watching carefully as they descend. "The way is clear," he assures them. He would offer a hand but decides that Hadda is better off keeping one hand to feel around her.
He is most certainly startled to find a very pregnant woman at the bottom of the stairs. "I am so sorry for your plight. We are here to slay these hags, including the one that keeps you captive. I fear there is no easy escape from this place unless we defeat her first."
As Hadda and Rurik descend, Inrit moves close to Hadda to whisper to the librarian, in the language of the woodlands and fey. " ಅವಳ ಮೇಲೆ ನಿಮ್ಮ ಓದುವಿಕೆ ಏನು? ಅವಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಏನಾದರೂ ಸರಿಯಲ್ಲ, ಅವಳು ಸುಳ್ಳು ಹೇಳುತ್ತಾಳೆ, ಅವಳು ನಿಜವಾಗಿಯೂ ಗರ್ಭಿಣಿಯಲ್ಲ, ಅಥವಾ ಅವಳು ಮನುಷ್ಯನೂ ಅಲ್ಲ. ಯಾವುದೇ ಸಂದರ್ಭದಲ್ಲಿ ಅವಳು ಏನನ್ನಾದರೂ ಸುಳ್ಳು ಹೇಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾಳೆ, ಯಾವುದರ ವಿಷಯ."
She keeps a close watch on the woman's face when Dom mentions 'slaying hags' for some telltale reaction.
Hadda's eyes are still recovering as she hears Ingrit addressing her in the feytongue. She responds in kind.
"ಸರಿ, ಹೆಂಗಸನ್ನು ಗರ್ಭಿಣಿಯಾಗುವುದರ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಮತ್ತು ಅವಳನ್ನು ಚೇಂಜ್ಲಿಂಗ್ಗೆ ಜನ್ಮ ನೀಡುವಂತೆ ಒತ್ತಾಯಿಸುವುದು ಹ್ಯಾಗ್ಸ್ ಮಾಡುವ ಸಂಗತಿಯಾಗಿದೆ, ಆದ್ದರಿಂದ ಇದು ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಯಿಂದ ಹೊರಗಿಲ್ಲ. ನಾವು ಜಾಗರೂಕರಾಗಿರಬೇಕು."
"How did you end up trapped down here?" Ingrit asks the former captive, "What did the giant want with you?"
Blinking, Hadda recalls back to the initial descent, not so long ago, and a canny smile crosses her face.
,
Crasius looks over the woman and asks, "How long have you been with the child? Do you think the child will come soon?"
"How did you end up trapped down here?" Ingrit asks the former captive, "What did the giant want with you?"
Crasius looks over the woman and asks, "How long have you been with the child? Do you think the child will come soon?"
"The hag, Grishelmuk," the woman spit on the ground after saying the name, adding, "may she rot in hell, seduced a man who lived in Vurnirn. She became pregnant and gave birth to me here. I was raised here, forced to be a servant of her evil agents, many of whom are barbarians in service of Kostchtchie." She spits again. "I was taught their languages and forced to be cook, cleaner, and subject of their perverted games. This is not my first child. Each time I get pregnant, they take the child away for their evil rituals. This one," she rubs her swollen belly, "will suffer the same fate unless you help me! She is due soon."
To Hadda's words in the language of giants, the woman replies, "Powinienem być. Mieszkam tu całe życie. Ten olbrzym jest sojusznikiem centaura o imieniu Wsiewołod. Chciał wiedzieć, jak znaleźć naczelnika. Mieszka w innej okolicy i byłem przed nią ukryty."
Hadda purses her lips once more and translates their exchange for the others. She's feeling a mixture of foolish and foolhardy, silly and surreptitious, as she tries to tease out the truth of the woman's words. The tale is a sad one if true, and she's increasingly inclined to believe it.
"This Vsevolod...we are allied against him and the worshipers of Kostchtchie invading this place." That seemed safe enough to reveal.
The key with a good lie was for the specter of truth to remain at the core of it. Most of what the woman said was probably true from a certain perspective. But if there was a quaver to her voice, a subtle hesitation, a glance of the eye in a certain direction, Hadda would try to tease it out.
For instance, the idea that Grishelmuk would have willingly allied against Baba Yaga with followers of Kostchtchie struck her as suspicious. Certainly the coven had been enemies with Jadrenka, but Hadda thought they were still all at least nominally loyal to Baba Yaga. She had been wrong about that before, and Jadrenka had corrected her. Of course, Jadrenka could have been mistaken. Or lying.
"Do you know where this hag, Grishelmuk, is now?" Byron asks as he considers the woman's words.
Dom nods. "And when will Grishelmuk return?" adds Dom, desiring to face this hag in combat.
As the woman relates her tale, Ingrit becomes noticeably angrier, practically seething by the time she's done. Swearing to herself to watch the last light fade from this Grishelmuk's eyes before they left Artrosia, she awaits the answer.
Where was the accursed witch?
At the mention that the visitors are enemies of Vsevolod, the woman seems to buck up and loses some of her fear of them. When asked about the whereabouts of Griselmuk, she says, "I've accompanied her to where the evil centaur is hiding. I can show you where if you have the power to defeat them. I fear she may be planning to sell me as a slave to these strangers."
Dom nods assuredly. "Thank you for your bravery, miss. We have defeated many a foe in this heinous place, and we can take on the centaur and the hag, if you can help show us the way. They surely deserve death for their crimes!"
"They do deserve death," Hadda agrees. "Those who knowingly subject others to the crimes that you have described, and those who lie or conceal to protect them, will meet the same deaths as Silyzil and Caigreal. Killing children. Kidnapping women. Nothing will save them from the wrath of our blades."
As a skillful student of lies and liars, Hadda had learned to tease out the truth and how to conceal it. But it was still a tricky proposition to try to clue people in to the words between the words without someone else being the wiser. Whatever was the truth behind this woman...Grishelmuk in disguise, one of her willing agents, or a dominated pawn in the hags' games, she would meet her designated fate.
"Before you lead us on: what is your name?"
"My name is Vala, but I haven't been called that for so long, I may hear that name and fail to respond."
When everyone is ready, Vala will take an oil lamp from one of the dusty old bookshelves, light it, and start up the stairs.
A reason for every mistake. I'm watching you.
"Lead on." Hadda follows warily.
Crasius takes up his position and follows along. "Let us know when we are close." Crasius says.
Ingrit follows, leading Wapiti along, with bow in hand.
"My name is Vala, but I haven't been called that for so long, I may hear that name and fail to respond."
Dom finds this statement troubling for a moment, but shakes it off. He could not imagine what horrors this woman might have gone through. "I'll walk beside you, Vala. And my sword will protect you."
Crasius:
Hadda: Knowledge (Planes) Take 10 + 15 = 25
Rurik:
Seke:
Vala leads back up the winding stairs to the temple to Mestama. From their she leads down the hall that Silyzil fled down to the room with the strange petrified forest of tree roots.
Working toward the south a narrow passage winds back to the north, but it is watched over by a strange guardian. It looks like a six-armed woman with a head with three female faces, each baring fangs. She wears colorful robes and holds several exotic weapons: a longsword, a spear, and a kukri. Her frame is muscular and she exudes a air of power, majesty, and danger. This is what she looks like, except she has a spear instead of a shield.
She holds a hand palm outward to indicate everyone should stop, another hand puts a finger over her lips to indicate silence, and a third hand cups around an ear suggest everyone listen. She speaks with a strange accent form of common.
"Before I let you pass, you must prove you are wise and patient enough to ponder and correctly answer my question. It is said that the passage to the land of the dead is entered by one of two doors. One leads to a hellscape of suffering and pain. The other leads to a heavenly realm, a garden of delights where no one suffers. The doors, however, are identical with nothing to indicate which place they lead. In front of each door is a guardian like myself. They appear identical but the guardian of heaven's door always tells the truth while the guardian to the hellgate always lies. You may ask only one question of only one guardian and then you must choose your door. What would you ask so that you may be sure of choosing the door to heaven? Discuss your choice but do not take overly long, or I will attack you all."
They are lawful evil outsiders.
Multiweapon Mastery (Ex) An upasunda takes no penalties when fighting with multiple weapons.
3/day—deeper darkness, levitate, rainbow pattern (DC 18)
1/day—haste, hold monster (DC 19), summon (level 4, 2 adhukaits 45% or 1 upasunda 20%)
With the heightened degree of bizarre magic they'd encountered here, Ingrit searches among the grisly collection of items on the shelves and tables, showing anything of interest to Hadda and Rurik in case they are of use.
As they approach the powerful six-armed woman who bids them to stop and presents a riddle, the ranger looks to her more knowledgeable companions, focusing instead on what course of action might be necessary should the fail and have to fight the guardian.
"Anyone have some idea about the riddle? Or do we just get our magics ready and prepare to fight?"
Hadda is positively delighted to search through what she assumes are Grishelmuk's shelves before leaving the room.
Hadda's eyes widen as she takes in the Upasunda: a beatific one! Oh, she had read of these! Although this creature likely despised humans, Hadda just wanted to converse with her! What sorts of knowledge might she possess?
She listens to the riddle and looks at her companions. She holds her hand up to Dom and addresses the prospective enemy and her companions alike. "Hold your blades, beatific one and friends, and let us ponder the wisdom of the ages."
Hadda turns to her companions. Given the versatility of the asura, combat would likely be bloody and challenging. She would try to weave in some of what she knew into the conversation in case they were unable to puzzle it out.
"A verifiable empirical fact, such that this is an Upasunda whose skin can only be pierced by a weapon imbued with holy light, cannot be the answer," she begins. "For empirical facts are not always known. The upasunda may not know that its skin resists acid and electricity, or that she with her form is better at fighting with her multiple implements than the common human would be, or that positioning is useless against her. If known, the truth-teller would answer factually. If not known, the truth-teller would confess ignorance. The liar could confess ignorance in either circumstance. And the asker must know the truth before asking."
She continues. "Pure rationality then, beyond what spell-like abilities she could use to confound us and turn the tide of battle in her favor, must be the order of the day. Deductive rather than inductive reasoning or empiricism, such that there is only one reasonable answer from each."
Satisfied that she has conveyed what she needs to convey, Hadda rattles off through her head the sorts of questions that could be asked. Will you tell the truth? Lie? Will they tell the truth? Lie? Which door is behind you? No, in each of these the answers would be identical.
But ah! Perhaps...
"A curvature around pure logic: tell me, friends, if you agree. We ask, 'Would she say that you tell the truth?' The truth-teller will answer 'No': she knows that the liar will lie. The liar will answer 'Yes': she knows that the truth-teller will answer truthfully, and will lie about her answer. Are my premises true and my form valid?"
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Crasius:
Hadda:
Rurik:
Seke:
This detects the that the item is cursed.
Rurik:
There is an oversized pestle that glows magical. There is a broom that is enchanted. Initial inspection suggests it is a broom of flying, but Rurik notices an anomaly of the aura that makes him believe it is cursed. He believes it will instead act as a broom of animated attack.
Hadda observes that the moldering tomes on the shelves deal with a variety of esoteric subjects—most are frightfully out of date. One book is of greater value, however—a cookbook of arcane augmentation.
Once per day, the spellcaster can augment a spell by following a recipe as part of her normal spell preparation. To prepare an augmented spell, the spellcaster must succeed at a Craft (alchemy) check (DC 15 + spell level) while mixing the recipe’s ingredients in a cauldron. (The cost of these ingredients is negligible, and they are assumed to be readily available in a spell component pouch.) If the check succeeds, the spell is augmented with the recipe’s metamagic feat. This doesn’t change the spell slot of the augmented spell. On a failed check, that spell can’t be augmented that day, but the caster can attempt to augment another spell.
A spellcaster can prepare only a single augmented spell each time she prepares spells, and apply only one augmentation from the cookbook to any given spell, but can combine an augmentation with metamagic feats she possesses. In this case, only the feats possessed by the caster adjust the spell slot of the spell being cast. The book doesn’t confer the associated metamagic feat on the owner, only the ability to use the given feat when spells are prepared.
This also contains details on the ritual used to bind Ratibor the Bold to the Dancing Hut.
If sold, this book is worth 21,500 gp.
When Hadda gives her answer to the riddle, the three-faced warrior looks disappointed, but steps aside to let you through.
A short twisty passage soon opens into a larger room. The ceiling of this broad natural cavern arcs upward, forming a narrow crown high above the cavern floor. In the center of the cave stands a ring of worn, moss-covered menhirs, their inward faces carved with mystic symbols.
Picture of Menhirs, in case you are not familiar with them.
The stone menhirs stand 10 to 15 feet tall in a wide circle nearly 50 feet in diameter. These stones have a strong transmutation aura.
On the north side of the room is a passage that ends with a door.
The room appears unoccupied.
"We're fortunate to have your knowledge and insight," says Dom as the Upasunda allows them through.
Sword still drawn, he approaches the menhirs but doesn't yet enter the area they define. "Can you also tell what this circle is? Feels like a place of ritual, for sure."
A malicious thought crosses Hadda's mind as Crasius reveals that the flying broom is, in fact, cursed. They could give it to Vala. In fact, that might reveal--if she was false--how far she was willing to take her ruse. But...
...the others would likely disapprove. They were generally goodly folk...
But...
Hadda's face stretches into a grin as she leafs through the Arcane Cookbook. She had rather liked Ratibor. "I have found a rather curious ritual," she says, "That may prevent an unfortunate melee between us and our friend Ratibor." Far above the other benefits that a witch like Seke might be able to use the book for, Hadda mentally checks a box off of her extensive to-do list.
---
When the Upasunda looks disappointed, Hadda grins once more. "I'm sorry to disappoint. But I'll tell you what. We're looking for a hag named Grishelmuk along with a centaur named Vsevolod. If you see either of them, I'd encourage you to tear them apart. I know what it is to feel stymied."
She tries hard not to be condescending. She knows she can come across that way sometimes.
---
Hadda assesses the menhirs, opening her senses to detect and study the magical auras pervading the ritual circle. "Astute wariness, Dom," she compliments. "I already sense strong transmutation within."
The menhirs confound Hadda. This was more druidic, more primal, than what she was used to. Or at least, that odd space where the primal and occult intermingled in ways that made arcanists like her uncomfortable. Fascinating things like ley lines and planar substrates that bound whole worlds together across the void.
Hadda draws a blank on the possible magical properties of the menhir circle.
Vala grows impatient with any attempt, however, and says, "Only Jadrenka can activate this. She has a special ring that she uses. Best we keep moving."
Then she pauses, ponders her memories, and says, "I do recall the hag saying something about these as she escorted me past. She said something about the riders. I think she said there were three, that they could prove themselves by standing in the circle. If they were the riders, they would gain something he would need. I don't understand such magic, however."
"Only, hmm?" Hadda says with a grin. "I'll take that bet."
The idea of proving herself sounded tempting. She was no Rider, but she had the Rider's seal. Hadda strides boldly into the center of the circle, analyzes the auras around her, and attempts to activate the circle over Vala's impatience.
She frowns as she looks around, wondering if it had worked. "You may be right," she drawls.
Nothing happens.
"Hadda wait you.." Ingriot manages before the archivist steps into the middle of the rune-marked standing stones and tries...something. After a few moments of expectant silence, she, along with the others breathes a sigh of relief when nothing disastrous occurs.
Hadda chuckles. "If I am reduced to ash or some other fine mist, then please remember me as I was."
Stubborn.
Trying to blindly activate devices brimming with magic was dangerous, of course, but Hadda could not let such an opportunity go lightly. Beads of sweat forming on her brow, she grasps for the subtle tendrils of magic she knows are here, just being par.tic.u.lar.ly dif.fic.cult!
Crasius watches silently and waits to see what the circle does.
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Dom becomes more and more concern at Hadda's failed strategies. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"Oh, absolutely not!" Hadda says as she looks back. "This is almost certainly an unwise course of action."
Hadda concentrates as the others watch. Vala fidgets impatiently but remains silent.
After appearing to fail several times, Hadda's mind suddenly senses a trio of thoughts which seem to be hovering in her imagination, and she finds herself falling into a arcane rhyme in Skald but with such ancient roots it is hardly intelligible. Still it leads to a strange state of mind.
As she does, she feels herself transform into a colossal size. Her clothes seem to vanish and her stomach swells. Her eyes cease to see the stone walls of the room and suddenly can see for miles in all directions.
She feels stiff, however, hardly able to move, but with effort she can turn her head to either side a little. Before her lies the Deeprun Crevasse, through which the group trekked to get to the Three Who Watch. To her right is the Maiden and to her left, the Crone. Hadda's consciousness has apparently become as one with the Artrosa sculpture itself, seeing as if from the statue's eyes. Beyond the crevasse, she can see the Ice Steppes and the forest of Hoofwood.
The group sees Hadda's body posture change, standing with her back straight, leaning back slightly. She holds up her left hand in a gesture that could be either a greeting or a warning. Her right hand rests on her stomach. Her head shifts side to side slightly, her facial expression blank, as if staring into the distance.
Hadda takes in the majesty of transmutation-transportation-transubstantiation for the marvel that it is.
"It's remarkable," she says within the room, her speech stiff. "I am become Artrosa itself, able to see as the mountains do."
Such words could hardly capture the experience. It was something that needed to be experienced.
"I wish some of you could...see this," she whispers. "Perhaps Jadrenka would let you if you ask nicely."
She tries to smile, back in her body. "Is there anything you want to know while I'm here?"