Zaria walked through the night. The roads seemed like a good way to attract undue attention. Although a walking house was not exactly the most subtle thing, Zaria still wanted to avoid being attacked or causing a panic before she could arrive. To minimize that, she strode straight through the forest, driving a direct line to the town. The woods here were not too thick, and a long drought had dried up many of the trees. Brittle branches snapped under Zaria’s talons, and if the trees grew too thick for her to just walk through, it took virtually no effort to just kick the plant down.

The crashing was sure to be heard for miles, but anyone who decided to investigate something clearly smashing its way through the forest deserved to find a chicken-legged house, as far as she was concerned.

It was a cool night, with a stiff breeze tugging at Zaria’s eaves. she said to Rav, glad to have someone to talk to even if it couldn’t answer.

“Mrrrk?” Rav asked.

Zaria had no idea what the sound meant, but answered like it was an intelligent question.

Rav cooed.

Zaria had to step carefully over a creek so wide it was bordering on being a river, and checked her map. She’d be arriving in Relonon soon. For the best. She wasn’t getting tired yet, but she did want to arrive before daybreak.

Zaria glanced up at the sky. The twin moons, Celon and Ysdrah, were both visible. Not just that, but it was a lucky night. The Spiral was visible between them. she asked Rav.

Rav licked his lips, which Zaria took as a sign of interest.

Zaria saw a bear ahead. The fierce beast raised up to roar, then saw a house walking on chicken legs, and froze. The bear made a sound somewhere between a roar and a whimper, cocking its head. Instead of giving chase, it moved to just keep itself between Zaria and its cub. Zaria chuckled. If bears had stories, that one would be telling the story of the human dwelling that strolled by for the rest of its life.

She turned her attention back to Rav and continued the story.

“Drrrrkkkrrr”, Rav said.

Zaria sighed. Rav had gone back to being still, but she continued. At this point, it was just nice to hear a voice, even if it was her own.

Rav sighed.

a truth.>

Rav let out a purring growl.

Rav actually shifted some, as if getting into a better position.

Zaria said.

The sound of a bell pulled Zaria out of her one sided conversation with the crate mimic. She pulled up her map. The town was within range. Had they heard her approach?

No. There was light cresting on the horizon. Dawn was approaching. Zaria took the final few steps out of the woods, and hastily scratched herself a hole for her legs before settling into the ground. Then she cast her senses along the map and into the town.

Relonon was a larger town than Zaria’s - part of why she'd chosen it was it was large enough it should have its own Witch in residence - but it was still small, with about three dozen families, a blacksmith, an inn, a market, and scattered farms to the north. There was a well in the center of the town, and that drew Zaria’s attention. Five figures were standing there. The central figure was a man dressed in a black silken suit, his ebon-dark hair going to salt and pepper at the edges, and a beard that hung in two braids. The three men and one woman around him wore wool versions of the same suit. All three men had the same beards. The woman had two braids in her auburn hair as well. Unlike the central figure, who had the alabaster complexion of someone who had spent little time in the field, the four with him had the tanned hides of those who had spent their life in labor under the sun.

“Rejoice!” the woman shouted between rings of the bell. “Rejoice! The Witnesses of Reclamation are here! Rejoice, for your salvation is at hand!”

The villagers were gathering, but from their scowls, they were anything but full of joy. Like many of the towns this far from the capitol, the villager were a mix of peoples, thrust together over the last few years as the Fissures ripped apart the formerly homogenous regions. Humans were the minority in Relonon, it seemed. Urkin made the majority - the green skinned sapients towered over the humans nearby. Many of them still had caps on the points of their horns, something they did to not tear up pillows while they slept. With them also were some Hublins. Gray skinned and long armed, they looked shorter than the others, but that was only due to using their forelimbs for locomotion. When they stood upright, they would be eye level with the Urkin.

None of them was as tall as the Ogres, though. Those two were nearly twice the height of a human, and must be the residents of the largest house that Zaria could see. Their hands were even larger than their build would suggest - nearly large enough to wrap entirely around a man’s torso. The shorter of the two - still over ten feet tall - was the gold of leaves before they fell for the fall, and he glared at the speaker.

“And what’s the price of this salvation?”

Now that someone had spoken, the older man stepped forward. He spoke in a voice as silken as his garment. “There is no price on our Salvation, good Ogre,” he said. “I am Acolyte Tymoa. I simply wish to help.”

“Acolyte, eh?” said a voice from the crowd. “Is that why you stink of demon?”

Everyone turned to the speaker as she strode forward. She wore black as well, but it was somehow a different shade than the cloths of the speaker and his companions. This one was the welcoming black of a moonless night, while they wore the hungry darkness of an open pit. That was aided, in part, because of the rich blues she’d included in her leather vest, a central stripe of cloth almost like a tie running down the center to hide the buttons. Her skirt moved heavily, and Zaria could see that it had leather plates woven into it, so thick they could serve as armor. Similarly, she wore leather greaves that ran up to her thighs. The clothing of an adventurer, one who specialized in the mystic arts, so needed their arms absolutely unimpeded. Those arms were the most visible part of her body, and she had the deeply tanned look of the other villagers. Still, there was a bit more of a glow to her, as if the tan was closer to her natural complexion. Her hair was nearly down to her waist, and so curly that Zaria suspected it would reach her knees if not for the curls.

But all of that paled in comparison to what she had on her shoulder. It was a giant utensil, a spoon imbued with the tines of a fork. Sized for an ogre, it looked like a mace in her hands, and she’d coated the interior with some sort of amber substance.

“Ah,” Acolyte Tymoa said. “You must be the town witch. What an… interesting choice of weapon.”

“It’s a spork,” the witch said. “And I have a name. Vysala.”

“Vysala. A name as beautiful as you are.” Tymoa’s smile didn’t waiver, but it did take on a disgusting edge. “Of course, to receive Salvation, you must renounce yourself of your… prior role, and surrender to me for cleansing. There is no place for witches in Redemption.”

Vysala spat on the ground, and then pointed at Tymoa with her spork. “That’s a price to your salvation right there,” she said. “If the people of this town want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’ll turn myself into a toad before I turn myself in to you.”

“Please, sister,” said the woman who had rung the bell. “I accepted the cleansing myself. It is worth being free of the Wyrdcore.”

Vysala spat again. “By the dusty testes of Saint Cabreth the Undying, you really think it’ll be that easy? They shattered your core, Sister. I won’t let the same happen to me.”

Zaria stared at Vysala. she said to Rav.

“Do you threaten me?” Tymoa said, his silken tones taking on an eager note.

“It takes a right bastard to hear a threat in a refusal to comply,” Vysala said. She turned to the people of the town. “I’ll leave, if you prefer the help of these… people. Hungry Night, I’ll stand alongside you still, for your protection.”

Zaria couldn’t help but notice the phrasing there made it unclear if Vysala was offering protection from Demons or the Acolyte.

“But I like to think I’ve earned your trust, and my siblings from the Midnight Guild will still be here soon. In spite of his fancy garb, he’s Tin. Same as the other four, and same as me. Your call. I will fight to protect you, as I always have.”

“Or,” Acolyte Tymoa said. “You can accept our aid, and rid yourselves of this… witch.” He mimicked Vysala’s tone almost perfectly.

An Urkin in slightly nicer clothes than the other stepped forward. “Acolyte, while we appreciate your offer-”

Before he could finish the rejection, a younger Urkin woman ran up to him. “Father! A house! It was walking! And now… just outside of town. There is a house just outside of town!”

Zaria said.