Dez smiles at Nadya from the door to the hut, and then hops down after Yrja. After Yrja gives Nadya a hug, Dez approaches, still smiling, and says in a gentlemanly, slightly nervous way, "It so warms my being to see you again, Nadya." He takes her hand in his and then his expression turns serious, "I'll just be direct. We have avenged your daughter." Dez then steps back and unwraps the ringed finger, showing it and offering it to Nadya, not trying to make a scene in front of a crowd.
Orik's thoughts are troubled as he heads back with Dezso, but nods agreeably.
When they enter the hut and return back to see Nadya, his mood improves somewhat, though when they show up, he extends his hands as if worried, "hey, don't worry, we're managing the hut now. I mean, yeah bow to it if you want, I guess..."
He looks back at it and sighs, "this country..." When Dezso unwraps the ring and the finger, he has a look of disgust. "Yeah it wasn't really my first choice, but somehow - through a VERY long road, we killed Nazhena. Blech." He shudders and grips his bow. "How are the kids?"
Nadya looks at the finger and tears well up in her eyes. "We assumed Nazhena was dead or had fled, but...now I know. Her life was forfeit the moment the Hut was taken--Elvanna would have killed her herself. But it's better," she says, wiping her tears, "It's better that it was you. I hope she died ashamed and alone. We'll burn this on the pyre at the equinox, if I may have it," she says, more gently to Dez.
***
The townsfolk stand up, looking a bit curiously at the rather informal Erastilian half-orc.
Nadya looks at Orik with a great smile and the eyes of one who has just finished weeping. "Orm and Mjoli and Jory and Katlina, and Garen, are doing well. Garen still keeps to himself most of the time, but he is no longer...frightening...to the town. Will you have something hot? Maret, are there samovars?"
Maret nods with a wink and hurries off, returning with several steaming pots of tea with the scent of berries.
"Oooh, that smells amazing, thank you. And how are you, Nadya? You have been carrying such great burdens. I hope you put aside some time for yourself to be happy, if you can."
Yrja reaches out to squeeze Nadya's hand gently.
"I have," says Nadya, and blushes as her eyes slide sideways toward Maret.
"Yes, of course, I brought back the ring and finger for you to do with as you will," he responds to Nadya's query, leaving the parcel in her hands and stepping away.
Following the talk about Maret, Dez wanders away from the group and explores the settlement alone, surveying the villagers' work and reflecting on the next stage of the voyage. He tries to recall whether the group has gotten any hint of where the hut may take them, but he remembers none.
Dez looks at the bustling village from afar. Despite the activity and the clear preparations for more battles and skirmishes, the atmosphere is hopeful. There are crops in the fields of winter wheat and snow beets and even leeks and spinach under clear panes of ice.
Distantly, though, he can hear another gasp from some of the villagers.
****
"All right then! Milk-and-water time is over! Snappity!" yells a familiar, creaky voice from the porch of the Hut. The villagers look taken aback and even Nadya narrows her eyes at the kikimora. "You know those are bad luck sometimes, yes?" she says to Yrja.
However, you do all feel the pull of the geas, drawing like a fishhook in your lips and livers.
"Well, this one has been very accommodating so far. Nadja, I am so happy that you are doing well. We have to go now, but my heart is lighter for having been here. Take care of yourself, now." Yrja hugs her again, waving cheerfully at the other villagers.
The tiefling turns towards the hut. "Alright, where to now?"
Hearing the call of the kikimora and the pull of the geas, Dezső sighs and turns back to the hut, thinking that there's little holding him to anywhere, little to return to, so he might as well see what the hut has in store.
He gives Nadya a wave goodbye, with a sad look in his eyes (to a close observer), and climbs onto the hut.
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"...Dez! Wait," says Nadya.
She fiddles through her satchel, cursing, and then pulls out a scroll in a waxed paper case. She runs toward him and leaps onto the porch. "To read later."
Dearest Dezső,
I write this out before words fail me. So much has happened since you left Ellsprin. All of a sudden, we were caught up in the revolts that had had begun in Fishcamps, and I found myself a reluctant leader. I tell you truthfully, I did not enjoy the feeling. It reminded me of my husband, far too many times, and I wept for him, for Thora, and cursed the fact that all these preparations kept me from grieving for them even more. Neither could Maret properly rest; she and the townsfolk followed me into action, and while it was exciting--the actual prospect of lifting the yoke, even if slightly--the soil on Borvald's grave is still fresh.
I did not anticipate what would happen next. When we finally had a break, when even Garen crept back to share a meal with us, we laughed, we cried, and when all others had gone to bed, Maret and I cried more for our shared losses, and found ourselves holding hands. I know I said I would wait for you to appear with the Dancing Hut, and I swear to you, I held out hope for that. Even now I do, as I sometimes hear rumors that your plans with the Iron Guard are afoot.
Please know that my failure to be resolute, to be patient, has nothing to do with your noble virtue and your kindness, and your attention. To be nakedly honest, I am not sure what I am doing, if Maret and I are simply dancing around each others' grief and trying to burn away something that will not die slowly. The days are long and full of toil; Ellsprin is not the restful place I thought it would be, and it seems I must take up my weapons yet again--do not begrudge me if I should seek some comfort in these difficult days. But know, even though my heart is divided, though my time is stretched like a drum, I still think of you. Whatever happens, I shall be grateful if I see you again.
Yours,
Nadya Petska
Then she leaps from the porch again, like a gazelle, and is calling to others for their duties.
Dezső accepts the scroll with surprise and watches Nadya go. When she is beyond sight he tucks the scroll into his coat and enters the hut. Inside he frequently touches the place where it rests, clearly anxious to read it, but he appears to want privacy for that and instead remains focused on the task at hand.
"We're just supposed to ask the hut to take us to Baba Yaga, right? Do we need any supplies before the trip? I don't suppose there's much we can get here..."
"The road is twisty, O Houseguests, and the House has all you need. Just put the keys back in the cauldron, you turnip-head," says Zorka.
She is furiously sweeping the porch, seemingly raising up more dust than anything else.
Orik sighs and nods, "yeah, I guess just get a move on, right?"
"Yes, no point in lingering when there's a task to do", agrees Yrja. If she is in the possession of the keys, she puts them back into the cauldron as instructed.
With Yrja's actions, the cauldron bubbles and swirls, and the now-familiar sensation of spinning no longer causes you do feel as dizzy. Once again, the Hut changes before your eyes, imperceptibly shifting conformations.
As it stops, Zorka hops out of her hidey-hole. "Well, here we are again. Although, by the whiskers of my beak, I know not where 'here' is, exactly." She shrugs and begins 'cleaning', knocking over things as she goes.
The room has this layout once again:
A sturdy black cauldron sits in the middle of a rustic room with timber floors, log walls, and a high ceiling framed by long beams cut from whole trunks. A grand cobblestone hearth fills one corner, its dying embers feeding the room with a dull red glow. Various barrels, farm tools, crates, and other miscellaneous items clutter the remainder of the space. In the corner opposite the fireplace, a rickety wooden staircase climbs to a small wooden landing. A shallow alcove off the landing holds two thick oaken doors.
The doors to the outside world, notably, are gone! However, the oaken doors of the landing beckon.
Orik grunts, ”well, okay, are we going into the landing now? I guess when there’s only one direction we go in that direction right.”
"How do we get out, Zorka?" Yrja asks, gazing at the oaken doors. "Or is there something beyond these doors that we need?"
The tiefling glances at the others, then tries to push open the doors.
"The answer is the same," says Zorka with a wink.
The doors creak open. "Need to grease those with some good suet," she grumbles.
A peek out of the room reveals a mildly confusing scene.
A long corridor stretches out to both sides, the aged plank floorsseeming to continue forever. Solid logs form the passage walls, intricately carved with knotted designs and images of lances, and centaurs, ravens, and female figures. Pale-winged moths and tiny fireflies flutter through the hallway, their flickering glows filling the corridor with dim light.
"I guess we no longer have the keys to drop into the cauldron to make this most unusual conveyance go..."
Dez joins the others on the landing and peers curiously and carefully before moving down the corridor.
Dez doesn't see anything new about the corridor. It just seems to stretch out to some impossible distance in either direction.
He'll explore 50 feet in one direction (left) and then 50 feet in the other direction (right).
As you walk to the left, Dez, you see a door just a liiiitle bit further. Maybe 20 feet. Do you keep going?
Looks like there's a circle or something carved on the door.
When you turn around, it's misty, but you can still see where you came from, dimly.
He'll listen at the door and then return to let the others know and suggest they follow.
Also, any idea what the mistiness is about?
Dez, you think the door feels slightly warm...but also slightly cool...and you might hear birds chirping?
You take a look at the mistiness and are convinced it's a contrivance.
It's an obvious illusion to mask some greater, more subtle illusion: a glamour that makes the corridor appear straight and endless. By examining the walls, you can tell it's curving in some way that you can't quite figure out--but if you walked along further the shape would become clear to you.
"What do you see, Dez? Is it safe out there?" Yrja calls after the other tiefling.
"Yes, I think it's safe to follow. I hear maybe birds chirping through this door. I think we should continue along the hall before opening the door. The hallway seems to curve ahead -- I think the apparent endlessness of the hallway is an illusion."
With that Dez will continue to explore in the same direction he was moving, leaving the door for later.
This place was so strange! Yrja doesn't want to let Dez out of her sight, so if he starts to disappear around a bend she follows, her booted feet playing a staccato on the weathered floor.
Dez is reassured to see Yrja keeping him in sight and continues his exploration.
Yrja follows Dez.
As they pass the first door, they notice a few more details: it's a carved semi circle in the wood, with rays radiating from it--very clearly, the morning sun dawning over a flat plain. Some more mysterious, runic patterns decorate the edges of the door--more like symbols than letters, due to their symmetry and art like forms, although they could be letters, rotated and duplicated--you aren't sure.
You continue through the fog and floating fireflies and come to another door. This door also has the rune-symbols around its border--different ones, though.
A symbol carved upon this second door resembles a downward facing crescent resting on a horizontal line with arrows pointing outward. A vertical bisecting line with arrows pointing both directions runs from top
to bottom. The door is a darker wood than the first door.
"If the first door is the sunrise, what could this one be? Twilight?" muses Yrja as she examines the door and the symbols.
Yrja, your knowledge of covens and circles far beyond those of Mahb's comes tumbling back in your memories.
The runes don't form any particular language, but they are used by Iobarian witches. The symbol with the crescent is that of Night.
Night, of course, means darkness, but also death, and the end of things.
"Maybe, uh, leave this one for later. Let's see what else is here, and then maybe check out the sunrise door." Yrja takes a step back from the Night door.
"Agreed." Dez leads the way continuing down the hall to see what else remains to be explored in this direction.
Orik seems to be growing annoyed, ”games, tricks, ugh.” He puts his head into his hands briefly, ”alright alright, so her heralds were the knights of morning, day, and night, right? Or something? If morning comes first, then I agree with Yrja, let’s just check that door first, right? Exploring is not turning out to lead to anything definitive - I feel like we should just choose - surely our choice will have negative consequences no matter what so we should just get them over with.” He’s frowning at the hall as he says this.
After some walking, Dez finds another door, this one with a symbol carved upon the door to this chamber resembles an inverted half-circle with a horizontal line across the top and several lines exiting the circle. A single extended arrow points downward in the center. If the other door was night, this is...well...not night, exactly?
Yrja can identify it immediately--it is the Iobarian witch symbol for Twilight.
Some paces after this door, Dez discovers the original doors you all exited from. In all, it's perhaps 500 feet to circumnavigate the 'endless' hallway, with only the 4 doors immediately apparent. Despite your understanding that the endlessness and straightness are illusions, they are maddeningly persistent. Orik's hunch seems correct--none of the doors seem particularly welcoming.
"Dawn, then?" suggests Yrja. "And I agree, Baba Yaga is not making it easy for us to help her. But what choice do we have, eh?"
The tiefling reaches out a comforting hand to rest on Orik's arm for a moment.
"I agree, Orik." Dez joins Yrja at the dawn door and searches for traps and listens at the door.
Yrja senses divination magic and enormous amounts of conjuration and transmutation--old, and self-renewing--as well.
Dez hears the buzzing of bees, the sound of cool water, and the intermittent grackling croak of a raven.
"There is very powerful magic here, so let's be careful," offers Yrja, watching the door with trepidation. After glancing at Dez to confirm that it was not trapped, she lays a hand on it and pushes.
"Here goes..."
The door swings inward, releasing incredible floral perfumes.
Flowering vines drape the columns of this...room? The columns seem to continue out to a verdant horizon, with distant hills and the first glimmerings of the aurora of dawn to the East, and dark purple night to the West. You get nagging impression, though, that it is a room, and it may not actually be leagues across. Like the hallway, all is not what it seems.
Beneath your feet you hear the crunch and slip of river rock. Winding, pebble-strewn pathways weave through a magnificent garden of honeysuckle and lilac. A pale, warm light fills the space. Despite the light appearing to come from the imminent Dawn to the East, you feel there is more light emanating, or reflecting, or something, from a stone-lined pool of water in a central, airy courtyard in front of you, with trumpet-vines drooping their bright horns from trellised stems. The purple and orange reflection of the early morning sky glitters upon the pool’s surface. It does not quite line up with your impression of the 'sky', but it's close.
It is so beautiful that Yrja almost forgets to be careful. The tiefling allows herself a few moments to breathe in the fragrance of the flowers and appreciate the breathtaking view, before training her arcane sight onto the fountain.
The sensation of conjuration and illusion magic as a background layer is almost overwhelming, intoxicating...but there's a trick of evocation magic that grows, from faint, to mild...to strong...
A raven approaches, first a speck at the mountains, then a dark flapping shape, and finally lands on a broken column, perhaps 10 feet above you and 20 feet in front of you.
It cocks its head quizzically, as if awaiting for you to speak, fixing its beady black eyes upon you.
It's wearing an amulet of leather with a glinting pink gem upon it.
Orik, grumpy from the situation, scoffs, "bah, more trickery. Unnatural plants. I see what you're trying to do, house! Just build a greenhouse! I'll even help if you want to, this isn't... ugh."
He looks perturbed.
"Oh, hello! What a pretty necklace you have. Are you a guardian of this place? A messenger?"
"Awk," says the raven, and cocks its head slightly.
The amulet radiates strong evocation...something like a Chime of Opening.
"You don't have any baubles for me," says the raven. "Come back when you do."
"Awk. Chucklachucklachuck," it adds.
You notice there's something glinting closer to the "sun"..something golden hanging from a pillar.
.