Dagg returns to Nabbitt Farms in human form with Tarna beside him, her reforged hammer and shield strapped across her back. Evening light warms the familiar pasture.
Merrin Holt
Back already? The animals are settled, and Devia has sent no fresh trouble that I know of.
Merrin meets them near the house. Bran is absent from the yard, his familiar resting place quiet, while a call from the livestock draws Merrin away to check the pens.
Dagg Nabbitt
We need to find the Lich Queen’s trail, protect Devia, and determine whether the signs lead to her or to bait.
Tarna Óhagganlegur
Then we begin with what can be proven. Reports, tracks, witnesses, and the direction of any undead disturbance must agree before we pursue it.
Inside, they keep their voices low over the table. Tarna studies the road map while Dagg considers how easily fear could draw him toward a false trail meant to expose his secret.
Merrin Holt
There is one thing. An unfamiliar traveler asked about this farm and the road toward Devia, then left this scrap behind. The mark looks funerary.
Dagg Nabbitt's turn“{Merrin describes the traveler as a woman about 6 foot tall. Long sleek black hair. Black lipstick and porcelain skin. She wore a long black dress with a trail, and the dress by her boobs made a shap like a star.. Long black gloves with black nails on her hands, the gloves going up to her elbows and made of lace. Merrin said she reminded him or a vampire but she was well spoken and seemed very pleasant.} {Dagg stayed silent, froze in fear as he heard this description, almost perfectly describing the Lich Queen.} Thank you for the information Merrin, can you please go check on the far pasture and make sure they have food.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Willpower, rolled -2)
Merrin Holt
She was a woman about six feet tall, with sleek black hair, porcelain skin, black lipstick, and a long black dress trailing behind her. The lace gloves reached her elbows, and her black nails showed beneath them. She reminded me of a vampire, but she spoke beautifully and seemed perfectly pleasant.
The description catches Dagg motionless. Fear tightens through his carefully held composure, yet the old superstitious warning in his mind gives the resemblance weight instead of letting him dismiss it as coincidence.
Dagg Nabbitt
Thank you for the information, Merrin. Please go check the far pasture and make sure they have food.
His voice stays level, though a brief hesitation catches beneath the words. The effort leaves his spirit weary, but the instruction lands clearly and without revealing why the stranger’s appearance has unsettled him.
Merrin Holt
Of course. I’ll check the far pasture and see that the animals have enough feed.
Merrin turns toward the pasture path and walks away, leaving the table, the funerary-marked scrap, and the description behind. Tarna watches Dagg in quiet understanding, while evening settles over the farmhouse.
✓ Quest Accepted
Determine whether the visitor is the Lich Queen
Dagg Nabbitt's turn“{Dagg picks up the scrap and inspects it} It appears to have the Lich Queens tracking magic implanted in it, it searches for phylacteries nearby. {Dagg says to Tarna} {Tarna speaks, does this mean she knows you are here?} I am not sure, I have been able to avoid her magic for so long, I dont know if my phylactery is immune to her spells as well. I think we should rest up for the night, we are going t need the sleep.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Perception, rolled -2)
Dagg picks up the blue-marked scrap and turns it beneath the farmhouse lamp. Hidden signs emerge in the fibers: a thin funerary pattern that reaches outward, searching for nearby phylacteries rather than tracking ordinary footsteps.
His reading of concealed marks identifies the Lich Queen’s magic with certainty, but superstitious warnings about cursed scraps keep pulling his attention toward every imagined movement beyond the walls. The examination consumes the evening and leaves the magic’s exact range uncertain.
Tarna Óhagganlegur
Does this mean she knows you are here?
Dagg Nabbitt
I am not sure. I have avoided her magic for so long, but I do not know whether my phylactery is immune to her spells as well.
The scrap’s symbols remain faintly warm against Dagg’s fingers, confirming their purpose without revealing whether they have sensed his phylactery. Tarna watches him across the table, her newly gilded wards catching the lamplight.
Dagg Nabbitt
I think we should rest for the night. We are going to need the sleep.
Tarna folds the map and secures the scrap beneath a glass weight rather than touching it again. The farmhouse settles into darkness, while the unanswered question of the phylactery’s immunity waits for morning.