‘I have a sister,” Tristan says cautiously.  “What’s your name?  You look… lost.”

In reply to Tristan (msg # 68):

Mary blinks and then brings the candle closer towards you.  "I'm not lost.  I'm just in a hurry.  I have to..."

She stops and blinks at you.  Then peers at your face.

"...I have to get to the workshop.  You don't work in the workshop yet, do you?  You look like you still have some hope."

She turns and starts to head down the hallway.  "You should come along with me.  You'll end up in the workshop sooner or later.  Mr. Boots will find you.  It'll be easier on you if you go to him first."

She is headed towards the left.  The hallway also goes to the right, though it's quite dark in that direction.

“Wait… don’t go yet.  Who is Mr. Boots?  Maybe we can whoop ‘im.”

In reply to Tristan (msg # 70):

Mary sighs.  "Everyone wants to fight.  At first...

"Mr. Boots is Mr. Boots.  He runs the shop.  We make shoes for him.  We were bad and now we have to make shoes until we're good.  Did Mr. Boots brother Mr. Grin not bring you here?"

As she speaks, you can see a small light down wink on at one end of the hallway.  It starts to get larger, and you realize it's someone carrying a candle and getting closer.  You start to hear their footsteps.  It's an odd sound.  Like they're shoes don't fit right, and keep slapping the ground just a moment before their foot does.  Tha-thump.  Tha-thump

Mary looks over at you. "I told you Mr. Boots would find you.  I guess you could try to run..."  She looks down the other side of the hallway.  It's still dark in that direction.  "But he'll find you sooner or later."

The candle is approaching from your left.  The hallway to your right is still dark.

Staying and meeting Mr. Boots?  Or scurrying away? Or something else?

Tristan grabs the girl by the wrist and then runs for the dark hallway, dragging her along if need be.  He knows he’ll need to find a weapon to beat Mr. Boots.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:01, Tue 23 Aug 2022.

In reply to Tristan (msg # 72):

Mary doesn't put up any resistance, but she isn't being particularly helpful either.  She just kind of trails along after you, clutching the shoe in one hand.  Her candle winks out as you rush along.

The hall goes dark after that, save for the flickering light of Mr. Boots candle far behind you.  Luckily you don't stumble into anything as you lurch forward.

You almost run into a wall.  The hallway turns a corner after what feels like an impossibly long time, heading to the left.  You can see light up around the bend.

It's a window.  Outside it you can see a rather pale looking crescent moon.  The curve of the moon is rough and irregular, suggesting a crooked nose and gaping mouth along the crescent.  A large, sickly silver eye is pasted on the side of the moon.  It rolls around in a kind of wet fashion and focuses on you as you stare back at it through the window.  A few stars are glittering beyond the moon.  They look like chubby stick figures holding knives, waiting for you to turn your back on them.

Across from the window is an open, dark doorway.  The hall runs straight ahead past it.

Behind you, you can hear Mr. Boots tromp, tromp, tromping down the hallway after you.

Tugging on Mary’s wrist, Tristan heads through the dark open doorway, looking desperately for anything that might be useful as a weapon.  He reminds himself not to look through any windows at the moon again.  Even the sky was treacherous in this terrible place.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:48, Wed 24 Aug 2022.

In reply to Tristan (msg # 74):

The door leads to a short hallway that ends at another entrance, this one covered by an old smelly curtain that is stiff to the touch.  There seems to be some kind of light on the other side and the sounds of someone humming.  You recognize the tune as the one Gran Gran was singing.

Beyond the smelly, stiff curtain is a small room lit by a candle on a stand.

An old woman with a big wart on the tip of her chin is seated at a spinning wheel.  There are coils of thread stacked by her feet, but at the moment she isn't toiling.  Instead, she's sitting on her stool, lightly tapping her knees and studying you and Mary as she hums her song.

She doesn't do anything else.

You can hear the tromp tromp of Mr. Boot's boots coming down the hallway outside.

Not knowing what else to do, Tristan says, “Hello.  Can you please help us?”

He tries to stay calm as the cold, horrifying realization comes over him that there is probably nowhere left to run.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:22, Wed 31 Aug 2022.

In reply to Tristan (msg # 76):

The old woman studies you at a relaxed pace.  She seems not to be overly concerned about the approaching tromp tromp.  But then again, she isn't the one who needs to be concerned about it.

Finally, she opens her mostly toothless maw and raises a finger to scratch the tip of her wart as she says, "Well well.  Why should this old granny help?  I'm much too busy waiting.  I'm all out of wool to spin for my thread.  And until I have more, I can't stop waiting.

"I'm much too busy waiting to be able to help." She shrugs.  "Sorry."

Tristan looks to the girl, desperate.  “Is there anything we can do?”

In reply to Tristan (msg # 78):

Mary shrugs, rather laconically.  "I dunno.  You got any wool?"

OOC- Do I still have it?

In reply to Tristan (msg # 80):

Yep.  You pulling the black wool out and offering it to her?
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:24, Sat 17 Sept 2022.

Tristan quickly shows her the black wool, handing it to her if she wants it.

In reply to Tristan (msg # 82):

The crone gapes at the wool.  She snatches it up and begins to rub it against her chin.

"Oh my!  What fine wool!  Oh this will make a lovely thread.  Just lovely."

TROMP TROMP.  The boots sound like they are right outside in the hall.

The crone wags her chin at a pile of thread.  "In there with you.  Quick as cats."

The pile is a huge mass of spun wool thread.  Easily large enough to hide under.  It's scratchy against your skin, but you can hunker down inside it well enough.

TROMP TROMP

The boots are inside the room now.  You could peek out from under the thread if you want.  See what this guy looks like...

If you are going to try to peek out from under the thread, please make me a Stealth/Pres roll.  Thanks

Tristan can’t resist taking a peek…

17:21, Today: Tristan rolled 3 using 1d10-5.  Stealth/pre.  (I think I did that right.)
This message was last edited by the player at 21:21, Sat 24 Sept 2022.

I accidentally "edited" your post.  Think it's back to what it was.  But if it changed, that's why.

Anyway, the roll looks good.  I'm just impressed you got a positive number out of it.

Mr. Boots could pass for the twin of the Bag Man.  Tall.  Lanky.  Wild, frizzy dirty blond hair.  Same vacant, big grin.  The only difference are the boots.  Stiff, black boots that run up his calf.  They have a metal stud on the toe that juts out like a dew claw.

The Crone is sitting at her spindle.  She is already busy wrapping the wool on to it.

"What?" she asks Mr. Boots.

Mr. Boots takes a while.  He looks around the room.  You realize just then Mary also hid.

"I thought I smelled children."  His voice is different from Bag Man's.  His voice is rough and twisted.  Like the sound of cart wheels going over a rock strewn path.

Crone shrugs, not stopping her work. "You have all kinds of naughty, lazy children in your workshop.  Of course you smell them.  Their stink is probably all over your clothes."

Mr. Boots pivots.  He turns and scans the room.  It's odd the way he does.  It's like he can't swivel at the hips.  Instead, he sticks one of those metal studs into the floor and then turns his whole body around on it, not moving his head or shoulders or torso. But instead his whole body.

"One of the children went on an errand and hasn't come back."

Crone is quiet, intent on her spinning.

Mr. Boots comes to a stand still, staring at her.  "That is some fine looking wool you have there."

She looks up at this, meeting his eye.  "Isn't it?"

There's a long, long pause.

Mr. Boots digs a metal stud into the floor and turns around.  He starts to walk out the door.

"If you see that child, send her my way, will you?"

Crone says nothing.  Mr. Boots leaves the room.  His Tromp Tromp recedes into the distance.

Mary comes out from under a loop of thread, her eyes wide and shaking.  "He's going to kill me!  He's going to eat me he is!  I've been naughty!  Naughty naughty!"

Tristan tries hard to shush her, encouraging her to continue hiding with him for a while.  He suspects Mr. Boots is still just outside, listening.

In reply to Tristan (msg # 86):

Mary shakes you off, her eyes too busy being wide and her mind too busy being scared to pay much attention.

"Oh please!  I didn't mean to be naughty!  Naughty naughty naughty!"

You stay in your hidey hold until

Tromp.  Tromp

Seems you were right.  You see Mr. Boots come in and snatch Mary by the arm, dragging her out of the room.  The Crone cackles but doesn't stop her spinning.

You hear Mr. Boots tromp down the hallway, followed by Mary's squeals.  Both sounds start to fade into the distance.

As a side note, it's not common to have a "light hearted" Ars Magica game.  Just saying.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:21, Mon 26 Sept 2022.

As as Tristan is confident that Mr. Boots is gone, he turns to the crone.  “Can you help me?  I want to do something about that guy.”

Real life isn’t light-hearted.  Why should this be?

In reply to Tristan (msg # 88):

The Crone stops spinning.  She watches you for a moment.

"And if I help you, what do you promise to give to me in return?"

Tristan shrugs.  “What do you want?  I’ll do anything… almost.”
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Sat 08 Oct 2022.

In reply to Tristan (msg # 90):

The crone considers.  She stops spinning to appraise you.

"I'll give you a choice."

She points at your right eye.  "Your eye."</eye>

She points at the left side of your chest.  <red>"What you will hold dear."

She points at your feet.  "The path you wish to tread.

"Chose one.  Or go take care of yourself."

Tristan thinks about it.  He realizes that he needs both eyes to see with, and that there are chunks of meat in his chest called ‘organs’ that he needs to survive.  ‘The path you wish to tread,’ on the other hand, doesn’t sound like such an unbearable sacrifice.

“The path I wish to tread,” He says after a moment’s consideration.  He slightly mispronounces the word ‘wish’.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Mon 10 Oct 2022.