29 - Rooms, and more Rooms
| Session 1 | Session 28 | Session 29 | Session 30 | |
| ◀◀ | ◀ | ▲ | ▶ | ▶▶ |
| Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite |
But still not clue...
We followed the voice that said “we are wrath” to a tower in the garden. The room was filled with hawthorn, and there—standing on a marble pedestal—was an iron stag. It moved, glaring at us, and ordered: “Kneel before us.” As if. I don’t bow to iron statues.
But Maeve and Zephyr… they actually knelt! Dhanell, clever as ever, used his mage hand to balance the thorn-crown on the stag’s head. It tilted a little, but that was enough. The crown twisted, silver to gold, thorns to roses. The stag demanded again that we kneel or leave. We chose the latter.
Maeve stayed longer, charming as always, and learned that there was also a lion called Envy. Together, they were guardians of the palace while Zybilna was absent. She also learned the stag doors should be open now. Good.
Stag room: Weapons
We tested the front door—it swung wide. Progress.
Inside, we searched the newly unlocked stag rooms. One was a weapon room. At first, I picked up some strange weapon I didn’t know how to use, it whispered in my mind, flattering me. Creepy. Then I spotted a bow. Perfect. The moment I touched it, it started talking too—soft words of admiration. A bow that compliments me? Yes, I’ll keep that.
Stag room: Scrolls
Another stag room held a dwarven scribe, frozen mid-letter: “Dear Rotten Ethel.” My stomach sank. Auntie Ethel. The sweet old woman from Baldur’s Gate who turned out to be a hag. The shelves brimmed with scrolls, many in Infernal. It had been a while, but I could still read it—signed by Iggwilv. Some letters in common, signed by Zybilna. Contracts too. One was for Madryck Roslov, the warlock who sent us here. So this was the price of his power.
Stag room: Lab
We passed through a ruined lab—nothing worth keeping.
Stag room: Heads
Then came a larger chamber with three glass domes, each showing a head: Zybilna, Tasha, and another—uncertain. It looked like three ages, three faces of one. The Rule of Three. My thoughts drifted back to Witch’s cryptic words in the carnival: “The Rule of Three: Future, Present, Past.” I finally told the group… pretending I’d told them before, of course. Maeve narrowed her eyes, asking if I’d hidden anything else. I told her no, at least nothing Witch said...
While the others debated the heads, I toyed with my bow. After I complimented it back, it went oddly quiet after muttering that Snicker-Snack was better. Oh well. Maybe better that way.
Stag room: Flaming Quil
We explored the stag-marked room in the central tower next. Inside: a book with a tome and a flaming quill. Zephyr looked in it, reading names. Fey names, many familiar—Thinnings. But the League and the hags were added in another handwriting, Endelyn’s!. The cover of the book had a stag and a lion crest.
The idea came quickly: strike out the League and hags, write our own names. Some refused. I had no such qualms. If Endelyn used it, it had power, and I wanted it on our side. I added my name without hesitation. If it opened doors, even better.
Lion room: Cages
We tested it on a lion-marked door. The first led to cages over a stinking pool—useless.
Lion room: Library
The next one, though, was more interesting. I listened first, wary of Kelek being trapped inside a Lion room now that his name was gone. Footsteps! Valor’s Call braced themselves, ready to charge, but when the door opened, it was only an old man in a library. He tried to shoo us off, but Frostbite’s club made him more cooperative.
We learned Kelek had been here, studying a book about Iggwilv’s cauldron. The book revealed much: the cauldron had two forms, gold and silver. It could freeze people, and just as importantly—it could be undone. The Alicorn was the key, along with a Witch Queen’s Poem. Destroying it was possible too, but only with weapons with special powers: flametongue or frost brand.
The problem? No poem. The cleric strained his memory, recalling only fragments: wolves, snakes, eyes, all in eights. Always eights.
A poem of eight
Eight. Eight. Eight. The number circled in my head. My mind flashed back to the cradles, the eight clawed infants stirring in their wicker beds. Could it be tied to them? Or was it something else we hadn’t yet seen?
The palace keeps its secrets, but the threads are tangling tighter. And I can feel we’re close now… close to Zybilna, close to the truth.
| Session 1 | Session 28 | Session 29 | Session 30 | |
| ◀◀ | ◀ | ▲ | ▶ | ▶▶ |
| Ashira Brolin Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite | Ashira Frostbite |
Updated on: 08:17
