The party gathers around a roaring tavern hearth holding glowing blue cocktails that turn purple as lemon slices drop in. A banner overhead reads “Session 100!” Boris triumphantly raises his crossbow, Haru shows off a hero pose, Kiet flexes storm magic, Edid levitates a book, Sundr radiates golden light, and Virgil grins with a massive tankard. Confetti made of glowing runes drifts in the air.
The party stands on a snowy ridge, staring up at Wicker Home, Mother’s castle — one entire wing twisted and strangled in living vines, branches pulling stone walls inward like a clenched fist.
A neighboring tower floats several meters in the air, anchored by glowing root-like tendrils of Fey magic
Mother floats over snowy rooftops like a shadowed anti–Santa Claus, pulling terrified villagers upward in spectral chains. Behind her, warm cottage lights flicker as five ghostly silhouettes fade each night. In the distance, the party watches from a ridge, preparing for their strike.
The party gathers around an old Tepistani photo album laid on a wooden table. Each page magically animates: three smiling sisters, the pages darkening as two vanish; a small cradle with a stillborn child; Lorinda’s desperate resurrection attempts sketched in eerie fey ink. Ambient candlelight flickers as the truth dawns on the heroes.
A long, ornate table in Wicker Home: Mother’s wooden high-backed chair at the head, two seats of honor marked Lavita and Letitia, and a tiny untouched chair labeled Lewisha with a small, dustless place setting. The party stands frozen, realizing the names correspond to Mother’s missing sisters and dead child.
Inside Wickerhome’s dining room, Kiet the bronze dragonborn flails as sentient soup-flubber creatures leap onto him — translucent wobbling blobs of enchanted broth sticking to his arms, legs, horns, and armor. Some sizzle with light acidic steam, others stretch like taffy as he pulls them off.
Wide cartoon-style. In the workshop, a bubbling black cauldron emits two elongated shadow silhouettes of women, reaching toward Boris as he approaches. They whisper “free us” in curling script-like smoke. Strange Fey tools, scrap dolls, and spell components clutter the workbenches around them.
Boris stands before an immense wicker archway; golden runes flare and swing open only for him. The hall recognizes him as “child of Mother.” Behind him, the party reacts in shock — Haru clutching his holy symbol, Kiet readying a blade, Edid scribbling notes, Sundr radiating suspicion.
A circular room filled with mirrors, each reflecting one of Mother’s failed daughters: stitched humanoids, mud dolls, mechanical wooden girls, mummified fey corpses, and shadow puppets. The floor appears as a void, dropping to spikes below. The party stands at the threshold, horrified.
Multiple floors of Wicker Home shown cutaway-style: Sundr in the top workshop examining three ritual stations; Boris mid-level stalking hallways; Kiet and Edid fighting animated experiments in the children’s rooms; Haru racing upward with divine light. Outside, Mother’s massive shadow rises over the castle as the timer runs out.