Madam Abacus's page

I meant history DC18 not religion.

Madame Abacus dumps the rest of the poisoned creatures, and tosses the empty bread crust bowl near a molding pile of matter.
"... three cups of water lukewarm, six cups of flour. one spoonful of salt, one of yeast, a pinch of saint's wort, and a whisper just a whisper of death.... "
She shuffles off the way you entered the wood.

Madame Abacus works herself to standing, but keeps her back to you and her head down. She holds out a hand over the bowl, and wills the tiny poisoned creatures into it with slight gestures while muttering. "Mirror of purity, reflection.. of chastity... equal but in reverse ... walls are thick... impenetrable.. hiding in the light of day - furtive vague ague. As the velvet's lain across the sky... a veil that brings an itch. Oh lost love many times gone forever. This wall would crumble shuddering with just a touch..."

The black tangle of bare branches within the wood almost imperceptibly move... slightly "unfurl" as if stretching after sleep.
Madame Abacus picks up her bowl, turns to you and nods.
"Veil is thin... Beldame's arrived."

"...a burden is not knowing which. Another comes from my own cryptic flesh."
She shows the inside of her forearm after she switches her bowl to the other arm. A tattoo reads "your suffering does not equal the evil you do."
"The one who wears this skin speaks no wont of ill upon you young lords who've felled the mad elk, but a pawn of the other color can do no better than simple courtesies.... At this bench you will see the garden of Beldame appear."
She then bids you farewell...
"May you bring death to your enemies, and face your own with a full spirit... for both rots will mingle to feed the harvest of future days."

Madam Abacus looks up as the three others come within range of her clouded eyes. She shuffles slightly stooped... her sandals, thick stockings, and hem dampen from the recent rains. She switches her bread-crust bowl to the crook of her arm, and covers it protectively with the other burn-scarred hand.
"blurs of shape, size, and hue become clear, but no more known to me... gathered flock?" she mutters as she gives each a skeptical eye.

"Repay repay repay... " She repeats the word as if it sounds strange to her, then shakes her head.
"Intangible things still supply and demand. Gratitude shines in worth where politeness is a five-leaf clover."
"You come no shackles, no chains... not dogs, not prey. No place for those with memories and names... You come with lives unforgotten, and not held by the Beldame, for you've no debt left unpaid.

Inside the tavern...
The frowning old woman stands... her chair noisily sliding against the floor cuts through the silence after Green's words. She swipes the balls of bread into the hollowed-out bread round. She carries it as she shuffles past Yarnball muttering... With a glance from her, Yarnball hangs his head. It takes a moment to realize her muttering is directed toward you.
"We go get your friends'n' wait in my carriage for Beldame... or there is a bench I like on edge of wood. Not in the wood, the scarecrows will get you. Come now. follow me and shut the door behind you. we do get so many pests this close to the water..." as she heads for the front door. "... this bread is mine don't touch it. I don't care how clean your hands are."

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Outside the cellar...

The earth elemental descends into the earth in front of the cellar door. A little more than 10 seconds later, the doors pop open... with the earthen minion awaiting its next command.