A mud-caked child, a young girl in a ragged brown dress with olive skin and a small scar through one eyebrow, appears in the doorway, slight and hollow-cheeked beneath tangled dark hair. A crown woven from the bog-witch's own wet moss circles the child's brow, while a sealed black book hangs from both hands.
Edric remains near the open threshold, silver chains trailing behind him. The bog-witch stands between him and the child, blackthorn staff lowered but ready, as roots press and writhe beneath the floor.
Mirelle
The last wardens placed this book beneath the hut. They sealed it where the roots could not find the lock.
Mirelle
I am Mirelle. The bog took me long ago, but it remembers the way back.
The Bog-Witch
Mirelle. No. You vanished before my mother learned to walk. I watched the bog swallow your footprints.
The black book gives a single heavy knock against the child's palms. Beneath it, roots tighten around the buried dark, pulling toward a forgotten name that makes the hut's walls whisper.
Mirelle
It is dragging me now. If the book opens, it will drag you toward the forgotten name as well.
The Bog-Witch
Do not let it cross the threshold.
✓ Quest Accepted
Obtain the sealed black book
✓ Quest Accepted
Determine whether the exorcism's recorded history was corrupted
“I say get behind me I opened it up”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled +1)
Space god
Get behind me. I opened it up.
Your command cuts through the hut. Edric retreats first, the bog-witch draws Mirelle behind you, and the black book rises from the child’s hands into the reach of your magic.
The seal splits without a sound. The book opens above your outstretched hand, its pages turning through darkness until ink gathers into a single living sigil.
Edric Vale
You opened it. Then read quickly, before the hut remembers what it buried.
The Bog-Witch
Do not touch the ink. The wardens sealed a name inside that was never meant for mortal tongues.
Mirelle
It knows me now. It knows the road beneath the roots.
A cold radiance spills across the open pages, casting the sigil onto the floor. Beneath it, the roots withdraw from the threshold and reveal a narrow stair descending into black earth.
“I'm immortal cuz I'm not from this time period I am here to save this book is cursed but has no effect on a nonliving being”
FAILURE (Great Willpower, rolled -2)
You fix your gaze on the living sigil and force your will through its curling strokes. The curse finds no flesh to seize, but it finds the magic animating your liquid form.
The sigil flares against your body, copying itself across your chest in cold black light. Your limbs remain obedient, yet the spell pulls your awareness downward toward the stair.
Edric Vale
It cannot possess you, perhaps. But it has found a road through you. Stop reading before it reaches whatever waits below.
The floating book jerks beyond your reach. Its pages whip shut, and the sigil tears free from the paper, sinking into the revealed stair like a brand pressed into stone.
The Bog-Witch
The book has chosen the deep road. The wardens sealed that passage because the name below was awake.
Mirelle
It is not inside you. It is using you as its lantern.
The black light fades from your chest, leaving the stair open and the book stranded above its first step. The curse no longer answers to reading; it waits below, drawing the pages toward darkness.
“I rip off the body parts it's on”
SUCCESS (Good Strength, rolled +2)
You seize the liquid portions of your chest and arms where the sigil crawls, then wrench them free in one decisive pull. The black light peels away with them.
Detached ribbons of your substance twist around the living mark before you cast them onto the flagstones. They strike the floor as harmless dark droplets, and the sigil breaks apart between them.
Edric Vale
You tore it out. By every oath, you tore it out.
The cold pressure vanishes from your awareness. Your severed material flows back across the gap, joining your form without scar or wound, while the stair loses its black radiance.
The Bog-Witch
The road has lost its lantern. Keep the fragments away from the book, and the deep name cannot follow through you.
Mirelle
It cannot see through you now. The book is only a book again.
Above the first stair, the sealed black book settles flat and silent. The roots loosen beneath the hut, and the three witnesses remain still, watching the dark descent without its guiding mark.
“I put the body parts back on and I'm like I'm a sentient liquid I think transform into anything so after removing the spell I just can put my body parts back on it's pretty easy unlike you humans I used to be a Golem”
SUCCESS (Good Health, rolled -2)
Space god
I am sentient liquid. Reintegrating myself is easy enough. Unlike you humans, I used to be a golem.
The dark droplets answer at once, flowing from the flagstones in thin ribbons. They climb your legs and torso, restoring your shape as smoothly as water rising through a mold.
The reintegration succeeds, but the effort buckles your footing. One knee strikes the cold stone, and a deep tremor passes through your frame before your balance returns.
Edric Vale
A golem? That explains why the curse found no flesh to master. It does not explain how you speak of becoming liquid.
The Bog-Witch
Old stone remembers strange births. If you were shaped by dead hands, stranger things may yet answer when you call.
Mirelle
Then the deep name cannot claim what you are. But the stair remains, and something below still knows the book.
Your form steadies completely. The black book lies silent above the stair, while the dark below waits without the sigil's light.
“How about we go to the tavern don't worry I brought hoodies just in case y'all might be wanted in most countries cuz I've met a lot of bad people”
SUCCESS (Poor Agility, rolled +2)