The Hag's Prophecy - Act One

[TheLastOne]

In a world on the edge of growing into something brilliant, the chains of the past have to be cut, lest the fall repeats itself once again. Even in the depths of wildspace, the Night Roads cut their bitter tracks, marked by the crimes of empires fallen, and rotting divinity births hungry landgods who demand worship.

But what does that have to do with Crinn? Hagspawn? Dark Godling? Malefactor? Crinn was reborn to be a blight and a doom. But maybe someone should have gotten his agreement on that first.

This is set in something of an original DnD Setting, though with roots in Godbound, if you're familiar with that, as well as Spelljammer. That said, the 'space' part isn't going to come into play for a little while - the adventure will eventually become both space and plane hopping, but it starts out in a more "traditional seeming" part of the fantasy setting.

Click to shrink...

Chapter One
A Peaceful Hunt

One thing that had taken years for me to get used to after reincarnating was how alive the forest was at night. While I certainly had intellectually known that it varied from place to place, I still had the intuition that a forest gripped in endless winter should be quiet and fugitive.

It probably was dark, honestly, but 'sees in darkness' was hardly a rare talent, and snow always made everything brighter anyways. Despite that, many small mammals seemed to see the night as shelter against their hunters. A family of possums darted silently in the distance, while a badger moved more casually through the forest. Not everything was active, obviously. A glyptodon was just sleeping in the field quite near where I was dressing my deer. Evidently, the smell of blood hadn't bothered it, with its confidence born from both size and shell. Though as Chort'sbin seemed to be giving the giant armadillo the majority of his attention, I expected it to have an abrupt wake-up call. A short one.

As for quiet. It was. It just wasn't consistently quiet.

Silence. The mad laugh of a bird cut through the night. Silence. The off-tune wail of the raccoon-dog (and wasn't it a little late in the year for that? If it didn't have enough to hibernate by now, it probably wouldn't make it.). A branch snapped off under the weight of snow. Silence.

Satisfied with my work, I started packing it into the back of the sled.

"If you wanted to hunt, I'm good to make it home."

Chort'sbin gave the glyptodon one last look, then shook his head.

"Naah," he drawled in his soft Waskiusal accent. "Yer mama would take it sideways if I skadoot the moment she turns her back. Sides, ain't been a fortnight since I last ate."

Chort'sbin took the form of a young man in his early twenties. Clean-shaven, raven-haired. Waskiusalians always struck me as looking vaguely Persian in a soft, pretty kind of way, and Chort'sbin's chosen form cleaved to that. The only detail out of place was his shockingly blue eyes.

I had never been to Waskiusal, but the impression I had of it was something more pastoral than I would have assumed, which was just another lesson in not making assumptions off memories of my past life. They of being some kind of 'eastern' themed nation, were some kind of plantation-based republic, though only major landowners could vote. Only with more slavery than you would assume off that explanation. Even if you assumed a lot of slavery. And rather than buying their slaves off boats, they went and got them themselves in brutal raids on their neighbors. And they made major use of necromancy to make sure both body and soul continued to serve past death. And they often sold their services as mercenaries, with the understanding that they would be allowed to haul back slaves during the conflict.

According to Mom, they always had work. They were good at what they did.

So a horrible, brutal people. But they looked pretty. I always wondered what it said that Chort'sbin liked that form. He played the part of a backwoods rustic aristocrat to a tee, so folksy you could gag on it, but there was always something cold in how he looked at things. Though I suppose that was also in character.

In case it was unclear, I didn't like him, however helpful he was. His parents had evidently wanted to find him a… a 'summer job' basically, and they had owed mom a favor. Markers were cleared, and I got myself an unwanted babysitter for a few years. Still…

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing in this forest is going to give me a hard time."

"That dog won't hunt. Qumzotz might be as nailed as a butterfly, but they're still only two days away as the crow flies. Wouldn't take a leap for them to extend their influence this far if pushed. Could be other beasties I don't know about, about too. Nah."

I sighed, then gestured at my work. "Right. So how did I do?"

He nodded at the bundled carcass, "Peeled the hide a bit too easy - you used a bit of witchyness there - and there's no way for someone your size and build to cut through bone that easy. But nothing major. Really, only size will fix that. I reckon you did decent."

"Good enough. Let's head back then."

"Sounds right. I'll harness the worgs."

The next couple of minutes were spent in silence as we worked. Chort'sbin took the coachman seat, while I fished a book from my jacket pocket. The ride back was peaceful enough, and I tuned out the growling chatter the wolf-like creatures made between themselves and pulled our sled through the snow. I enjoyed my schlock adventure novels, but it always took so long for one to make its way to this backwater.

As home came into sight, I slipped the book back into my jacket.

"Your Mamas home," Chort'sbin stated, nodding to the faint light coming in under the front door.

"Looks like. Wonder what was so important that she hurried out like that."

"Don't know, she tore out like her barn was on fire."

The next couple minutes were spent unharnessing the worgs. I paid them with one of the bucks - I didn't need to, they worked for us out of fear rather than payment, but that wasn't how I rolled. The rest we hung in the larder. It was better to let them hang for a couple of days before butchering them. Then we made our way to the lodge door, to see a scene I wasn't expecting at all.

Mother look up as the door opened, and we stepped inside. Her hideous visage twisted into a brief look of fondness, before she turned her attention back to the figure shivering on the floor.

"Trip went to shit, but I recovered something from it," she gestured at the other occupant of the cabin. "Meet your sister."

The girl shivered even bundled in furs. She was half buried in them, but mother hadn't set a fire. A mixed signal. There was a medicinal smell to her - healing potions - but the bruises that tracked up her face told me Mom didn't care enough to get her all the way healthy. And in there were the obvious more problems with that statement. For starters, she looked human.

"Sister?" I asked. It might have been rude, but… "Then shouldn't she have been left to bake a while longer?"

Everything about the question was horrific, but it needed to be asked.

"Should have baked longer, yes," she stated, her face twisted into something between the smile for a plan coming together, and the grimace at seeing it fail. "Would have had a second in about seven months. With a second, a third would be easy to recruit. But when the change came on her, she made it a problem."

For the first time the girl spoke, real venom in her voice, "I would rather die."

Mom nodded, "She really would. Lots of dearies say they would, but they never do. Not before it's too late, and they become." Her voice lilted up, "But she really meant it."

"Tried, three times. That's why I had to run, to save her." Her long fingers tapped against her staff. "If it was just one or two… wouldn't matter. Nothing fickle survives the change. I would have just waited it out. But you do keep real things through the change. If my lovely daughter was that determined to die, her hate would have survived. Even when it was done, she would still hate me."

Her tone came across as deeply aggrieved that the girl hadn't just given up on herself, and she knelt in front of the girl, grabbing her, twisting her this way and that as if examining her. "There's ways of making it work anyways. I'm older, stronger. Not all the power I stole to make you went into you. If it was urgent I could have dealt with a hostile coven mate. But I just don't need the problem. So I cut a deal - stripped the blood from her, repurposed it. Not as useful as a second. But she'll be a companion for you."

"Oh," Chort'sbin asked, "so got him a playmate?" His gaze was on the girl as she… less struggled against Mother, and more shivered so hard she seemed to flail to escape her grasp. Mother dropped her a moment later, and Chort'sbin's cold gaze followed her down, filled with a private humor.

I grimaced at the scene. This was… Well, I was happy for the girl. The Change always sounded horrific, and for my own sake, I was vaguely glad I wasn't expected to watch someone go through it. Still…

"Won't she just hate me?" I asked as I made my way over to the girl. She was shivering so hard her muscles were starting to lock up, and I quickly pulled the furs back over her. "Chort'sbin is plenty good as a bodyguard already."

"Nah," he stated, "not what you're getting here. Just a bit older than you, and not a boogie or beastie. The ma'am didn't just employ me to guard your physical safety. Yourselfs needs to mix about more or you'll not know what-when-how when you need it. I had been talk'n at your ma'am about snatching you a few playmates, but this is better."

"Exactly. Companion, not guard," Mother stated, smiling benevolently at me. "This wasn't the idea, but this," she made a twisted face, "mess… Well, it lets me recover some of the value I put into her. She'll still be useful. A lot of the things I tried when I had you went into her - she was the practice run. She's a sorcerer now. Maybe more than just a sorcerer."

Mother glared at the shivering thing she had dragged into our home. "This dearie won't be useless."

It was honestly more a statement of intent than a reassurance.

"I'll let the two of you get to know each other," Mother said, heading further into the house.

"Then I'll be taking my leave," Chort'sbin stated, "Call if need, otherwise I'll be back in the morn'n."

He stepped out the door. A moment later the sound of something heavy moving through the snow made its way through the snow, then the thunder of wings, and it was gone.

"Right," I stated, looking at the girl's chattering glare. Yeah… she hated me.

"Let's get you settled in," I stated, lifing her into my arms with as many of the furs as I could balance. It was probably a comedic scene. She was bigger and older than me, after all. I made my way to my room, and put her on the bed. I was glad that puberty was still years in the future, because my room was the only heated one in the lodge, and I'm not sure she would make it the night without that.

"Th… th… the witc…ich. ShE'S ya-ya-your mother," the girl chattered out.

"Hag," I corrected, checking and securing the layers of curtains that stretched across the entrance to my room. I didn't have an actual door, but they worked plenty well as long as I tied them down both on top and bottom, and made sure all three layers were stretched across and not bundling up to create a gap, "A witch is someone who practices witchcraft, which can cover several types of magic. It's usually but not exclusively used for female practitioners."

I went over to the hearth and shoved my hand into the pile of strange round stones that field it, before flooding them with magic. A moment later I felt them start to heat.

"A hag is a kind of wicked fairy that is always female, and has a natural talent for several kinds of magic including some forms of witchcraft."

I pulled a chair over to sit where we could more easily talk.

"Then wh… wh… why… why are you a boy."

"I'm not a hag," I stated.

"Hags don't can't easily have children. Sometimes the child," I gestured at myself, "fails to be a hag. Too much of the other parents' nature stays with them, and they come out not a hag. We're called Hagspawn, or sometimes hexbloods? If the child's a girl, there's rituals to push the blood when they're older. But nothing you can do with boys."

"What's your name."

She was quiet for a moment, "I know better than to give a fairy my name."

I snorted. "Hagspawn are on the mortal side of that divide, and if I wanted your name that way I could just steal it anyway. You're going to be here for some time, I need to call you something."

That… was the wrong thing to say. She started crying. I sat there awkwardly, not sure what to do. Finally, "Lalak."

"It's nice to meet you Lalak. I'm Crinn."

She took a little while to gather herself, before asking her next question.

"No one talks about hagspawn. If witches… if hags have sons to do their work. I know about… about changelings like… like… like me. But I've never heard of you."

"I said Hagspawn are failures, didn't I? Most of us are abandoned. If we're lucky, we're abandoned near a village, but it's usually not seen as worth the effort."

She gave me an incredulous look, which - fair. Mother was fond of me.

"I said most. And I was a failure. You heard her though, didn't you? She was doing things to make her children more powerful. You were the test, while I was the serious attempt."

I leaned back, old memories coming to the surface. The confusion of rebirth, Mother's monstrous rage at her failed spawn. Fear as I realized that 'Mother' was going to recycle me, and realizing I had power. Reaching out with a limb of sideways thought, and driving it through her skull…

"I was born aware, and I born powerful. I drove her mad."

"What."

"Haven't you heard stories about the forest spirits playing games with people's minds? Beguiling them want mad want? I did that. I drove her mad with maternal love."

She was just giving me a confused stare.

"That… that's doesn't make sense. Mothers are supposed to love their babies."

I just lifted an eyebrow at that, "Plenty don't. And love that is a kind of fixation, that exists at odds with your desires and goals, that consumes your wants? That remains fixed no matter how your thoughts shift or change? What can that be but madness?"

"So what?" Her tone was getting heated, "You're her master?"

"Not at all," I flatly stated, "She loves me. That doesn't make her a fool. She knows what I did to her, and she had no desire to let me ever do it to her again. After that, she arranged for my care and left for a year. When she was back… her mind was shielded. I don't know what she did, but she made sure I could never change her again."

"But… she loves you?"

I snorted, "And you think a Hag's love is kind? She doesn't care if I appreciate what she does for me, nor does she hold back from pursuing her other goals in an unchanged way. She loves me, she doesn't need me to love her."

Her tone was improving as the room heated, and she started unhunching. Studying her - the change, I knew it happened sometime around the thirteenth birthday, and that the whole thing took something like a year, but didn't know if that meant it ended around the thirteenth year, or started. And it's not like it was an exact date either way. She could be anything from two to four years older than me, so… "How old are you?"

"Thirteen winters," so about three years older than me.

She seemed to be getting tired, but kept her gaze focused on me. "So then, what are you going to do with me. The deal… I basically have to follow you around and support you or your mother will… What do you want from me."

I sighed, "She's your mother too."

There was a visceral shutter, and she snapped at me, "My mother is a sweet woman. Maybe she birthed me, but she's not my mother!"

White hair, blue eyes, pale, slight even for a girl, but tall. Fingers a bit too long for her hands, and nails a bit too thick and jagged-edged. She was a bleached-out image, a bit too sharp to be called pretty I think. She had probably thought she was human until recently. I guess she really was now, if Mom had burnt away her blood. But there were dozens of signs I had been taught to look for.

"I wouldn't say that in mother's hearing. But to answer your question, I don't really want anything from you. I expect I'll be taking you with me when I'm sent to civilization. Mom wants to get me able to move among people without seeming too strange. I think Mom's going to have me establish an identity outside the forest soon. I think you're here to help me talk to normal people, and I suppose you'll be part of that identity."

Her gaze remained locked on me, leaving me feeling a bit self-conscious. I wasn't hideous, I knew that. Many hagspawn were, but not all. But I was eerie. Most hags were rather hunched, and sometimes hagspawn had that become even more pronounced, but on me it mostly gave a slightly slumped posture that was actively uncomfortable to straighten. I had skin like a medical condition, and my hair wasn't just whispy and fine, but an almost crystalline white, while my iris was nearly the same color as the white of my eyes.

I had had a fairy tell me I was pretty once, and I don't think he was lying, but I was certainly strange looking. Though I wondered if she realized I mostly looked like a more extreme version of her.

I thought about my next question, only for a light snoring to start. She fell asleep with her eyes open.

Um. Well. People sleeping with their eyes open was creepy. As a minor god of madness, magic, and fate… I felt qualified to judge creepy. And that was creepy.

Well.

I went looking for more covers. It looked like I was going to be sleeping on the floor tonight. We would have to make better arrangements tomorrow. Either set up a space for her, or at least get a second bed, but I had roughed it worse than sleeping on the floor for a single night.

Technically a "Without Why" Jumpchain story. Right now, this is intended to only be a single-world story (not a single jump story, as it's built using supplement modes for people familiar with jumpchain), but you don't need to be familiar with Jumpchain to read this.

This is set in an original DnD style setting, though a number of spelljamming elements are included - the 5e version of them, as a warning for people who dislike that.

For people waiting for the next chapter of "A cup in hand hides the sword in the sleeve", I was having trouble getting the next chapter going, so I started writing this so I would be writing something. I just need to get back into the habit.

Click to shrink...

 

[TheLastOne]

Chapter Two
Shopping Lists

I was up bright and early to greet the dawn, cleaning and packing the sled for the trip when a graceful draconic form the size of a small horse swooped into view. His blue scales shone in the morning light as he descended in long circles. The circles tightened as he came in lower, his wings beating faster, until he seemed to lose lift right before reaching the ground. But he had been here long enough to have adapted to the dead frigid air, and instead of falling, he turned it into a graceful plunge that threw snow into the air like a veil.

Chort'sbin's human form walked out of the concealment like a man stepping from behind a current. I would have honestly called the whole image cool if I wasn't aware of how vain he was and how much work he put into it. Instead, I threw him a lazy wave as I continued my work.

"Plan'n a trip?" He asked as he strode forward.

"Lalak has nothing, and it's sort of becoming my problem."

"She the girlie? You should make 'er take care of it herself," he stated. Still, he walked passed me to the shed and began gathering things. "Begin as ya finish, right?"

Rather than argue I simply pointed out a basic problem.

"She has no change of clothing, and the clothes she has now are for lower, warmer climates. She's either going to be stuck in my room for weeks while slowly sewing a new set - assuming she has the skill - or else I need to get her something."

"Eh, point. So what's the plan?"

"I want to get her clothes, a bed, and I'll probably make her a ring to help with the chill. I'll need a few regents for that unless I want to dip into Mom's."

"I reckon you're fixin' to do more than strictly is needed. I circle back to my earlier statement."

I shrugged. He was probably right, basic sympathy meant I didn't want to do the minimum, but unless I wanted him needling the entire time I needed to give a more selfish reason than that. That said -

"I'm not going to half-ass it, and then have to do this again in a month."

He made a face, but shrugged. It wasn't a logic he would disagree with.

"So, plan?"

"The Undermarket, then the Birds."

He hummed as he poked around what I had packed.

"You're gonna barter?"

"That's the plan," I started making my way towards the treeline.

He plucked open one of the bags from the sled, "Isn't this a little rich?"

I howled out a call in goblin towards the forest, then turned back to him and shook my head.

"I've been making those to sell," I said. "I had been planning on heading down there on my own in a couple of weeks anyways."

"I thought you hadn't wandered down there all lonesome," he questioned.

"I hadn't. Doesn't mean I hadn't been planning to."

I looked towards the forest and howled out the call again.

He seemed to be thinking, and in a moment he spoke with some seriousness, "It is something ya'ought to get up to. But this is probably a larger sell than you should be making the first time you're there without your mama's apron strings. Whose the surface trader? I haven't visited the locals yet."

"There's a mountain shaft where the Duergar will trade with the surface," I stated. Then shrugged, "There also a night market run by the svirfneblin, but the way only opens on the nights of the new moon, you need a token to get in, the hills to access it is two days away on sled, and we would almost certainly have to kill someone if we didn't want to be jerked around."

Chort'sbin's gaze had started tracking towards the forest, and he was starting to look vaguely annoyed. "Do they know you?"

"Don't think so. As you said, I've never gone there on my own, and people make assumptions about children being dragged around on a Bheur Hag's apron strings."

And Chort'sbin's gaze at the forest had officially graduated to peeved. It didn't make it into his tone towards me though, as he slowly chewed over his words, "Never dealt with the deep dwarves. The folks made sure to introduce me to the local Drow, and I've done a little business with the deep gnomes on my own, but never the Duergar."

He held up his finger to ask me to wait, then turned towards the forest and roared out in goblin. The sound tore through the forest; birds exploded from trees, and there was a distant sound of a stampede. A moment later a tentative howl in goblin came back. Chort'sbin roared back once more - a time - and then returned his attention to me.

"If worg wasn't disgusting I know who I would be having for supper," Chort'sbin muttered to himself before returning his focus to me. "How do the Duergar count?"

I started making my way back to the lodge. I would have given us a bit more time, so I was going to need to hurry if I wanted to eat before we left.

"It's a lot like dealing with devils who are soft-selling to you, but less polite. The Duergar have a strong sense of order. They'll cheat you, but it will all be writing. That said, they won't make shoddy work."

"I reckon that works. Wonder why my folks never carried me round those circles."

I shrugged as I opened the door, kicking snow off my boots, and headed over to the pantry. Only had maybe a fifth of a candle to eat. While I could just make our draught worgs wait, and Chort'sbin wouldn't care… it was rude.

I had to remember things like that.

"Duergar work is fugly."

Fugly wasn't a word in the Sylvan-Jotunskye pidgin language that got called 'common' around here, but it only took Chort'sbin a moment to translate the portmanteau.

"That tracks. Good practice to make sure you're always gussied up. So why are we visiting the Eblis?"

"Because they'll have the reagents I need and charge maybe a third as much. Maybe less. I might also be able to get sundries from them - they might not make or need them, but their goods are sort of random."

Because they're bandits a little voice in the back of my head pointed out. I ignored it. If I wanted to trade with someone who wasn't terrible, this would change from a day trip to something quite a bit longer and more involved.

As the stone plates of the 'stove' heated, I cracked eggs and dropped duck bacon into the skillet. Soon a pleasant smell filled the air.

"Shouldn't we visit them first then?"

"I need money. If we go to them first we'll have to do everything through barter."

He frowned at me then, "Why are'ya paying them a lick? They're your mama's right? I haven't seen them filling your bread basket. Just take what they have."

I rolled my eyes. "They do have an understanding with Mother. That's the reason I'm expecting good prices, they're scared of her. But just taking what I want is just going to seed bad blood down the road. Do you know how many hags have gotten themselves killed by adventurers after pissing on everyone who lives nearby? I don't want to shit where I live." Hags… and dragons, I didn't add. "Give them something shiny, and there they'll be grateful instead."

"Ah think you're just being soft," he stated as I plated up. Which… sure, he wasn't wrong, but I… "We'll go to the birds first. Then the Underdark."

Fuck. Did I want to make an issue of this? For bandits? No. No I didn't. But it left me feeling shitty.

A sound came from deeper in the lodge distracting me from my thoughts, and Lalak padded out bleerily, still wrapped in furs.

"Morning," I greeted, then plated her a breakfast. "Eat up. We're going in just a few minutes."

"Ah, okay," she muttered muttered quietly. The backbone that had got her through our first meeting seemed to have deserted her. But then, I suspect that the last few… Weeks..? Months..? had sucked. She must have been on the dregs of her willpower by our meeting.

I kept an eye on her as Chort'sbin and I finished pounding out a plan for the day. She was shivering as she picked at her food - this obviously wasn't going to work even in the short term. Luckily, I had a solution.

"Here, stand still," I told her as I finished out my athame, then launched into a quick chant.

"Wha…?" She started to ask, and then the spell settled. "...t. I'm not cold?"

"I prepared Avaddal's Endure the Winter's Bite this morning. I can only hold it for an hour, and it takes some of my attention, but we'll get you into the sled and wrapped tight," I stated. "We're going to be picking up the basics you'll need, so this won't become an ongoing issue. While we're out, make sure to tell me of any essentials."

She looked vaguely amazed by the petty magic, but was trying not to show it. She seemed to be regaining her balance.

"Okay," she responded, before turning towards Chort'sbin. "Greetings, I believe we met last night. I'm Lalak."

"Howdy," he returned. I could practically feel him summon up a cloak of charm and dignity, "I'm Lord Chort'sbin, and you'll see me around for a while. I'm being retained by your honored mother to act as Crinn's tutor and guardian as he starts stepping out from her shadow." Then the folksiness returned, "But y'all can just call me Chort'sbin. I'll be playing minder today, and so long as the creek don't rise, we'll get ya all sorted."

I gave him a side-eye, but I couldn't tell if Chort'sbin was just practicing his acting, just wanted to make her uncomfortable by reminding her of her heritage, or if he was buttering her up for more malicious games later. He was cruel, but he was also professional. Whatever, I would give her a warning in private later. Not a problem for now.

And anyways, the crunch of snow outside signaled the arrival of our workers.

"Hurry and eat up, then join us."

The Worgs were subdued when we harnessed them to the sled. It made it easier to put them on, but I was never comfortable with the fear. Still, it was better they piss off Chort'sbin than Mother. Last time they had made her wait… well, he wasn't casual about killing his employer's minions, and she did like Worg mutton.

By the time we were finished, Lalak had made her way out of the lodge. Without enough furs. I sighed to myself - I told her the spell wouldn't last that long. I got her seated in the back with the trade goods I was bringing, then piled more furs on top of her, earning the complaint of, "I can't move under all of this."

"The spell won't last. Do you want to go back to freezing?"

That shut down that discussion, and a moment later we were off.