"Sending for me like some lackey, just who does he think he is? Conniving old shaman, putting me in the middle of this mess... 'I have the sceptre enchanted for the Reckoning,' he said, 'You can be the one to give it out, you live centrally.' Sure, just lump old Haag with the central piece to the Reckoning."

The swamp witch's cursing fell to a mutter of obscenity as she stalked around her hut, leveling kicks and elbows at offensive furniture with a venom that suggested she was about to spit.

"I hosted them all, real polite, I did. Burned my dinner while I waited for them to stop jostling each other. I laid out all his rules to the rabble..."

Haag ticked them off on her fingers as she recited to herself the rules O'ising had given her for the Warriors.

"They have to defeat the guardians, Torrid Rakia for Maklak's group, Oughlor for Yudhishthira's horde. Each will drop a facet that empowers the sceptre when fused."

The hag's vehement recital took on a mocking singsong impression of her Conclave brother as she continued with the rules she was given to impart.

"The facets and the sceptre can be stolen, they cannot keep it through death, nor can it be stored. Don't forget, Haag, you must tell them that the sceptre will change to reflect the power shifts in the land."

Haag hissed and lashed out at her heavy cauldron, stubbing her toe as she did and loosing a new tirade of cursing.

"Yes, O'ising," the bog witch pandered sarcastically, "I'll make sure they understand. No, O'ising, you don't need to repeat it a third time, I'm not a child."

Taking up a large and pitted spoon, Haag stared accusingly into her simmering pot before jabbing murderously at its already-dead contents. Dissatisfied with the lack of reaction she tossed the utensil onto the table with a loud clatter, the unnecessary violence sending her candles rolling to the floor.

The old woman faced what she assumed was north and shook her gnarled fist.

"I told them everything you said. Every damn word you parroted at me, I repeated. Now you blame me for their incompetence? Now I have to keep this damn sceptre in my cottage and babysit it for the entire Reckoning?"

An energetic fling of frustration sent a shattered candle sailing out of the ramshackle hut's open door, the howl of a chastened hound echoed about the bog, followed by the sound of the beast departing at a run.
"Why can't you come down from your little village and damn well do something?" she howled ineffectually, "Why do I have to deal with them all?"

The old woman leveled a tired and defeated stare at the impious sceptre, currently blackened with the scorch marks that signified Yudhishthira's claim, before turning back to her now-inedible stew.

"Gods damni..."