When Katarina Descends From Above

The following is a popular folk tale from Phrygias.

Twenty and seven days into the final seeding, a coming mother descended the cliffy steps from her hut in the clouds to the eldritch forests below. Though those very woods were well known as homes to bandits and wolf-men and wights, the oft brutal denizens of the shadows bowed their mangy heads as she passed. Her path unhindered by neither weather nor violence, she collected a bushel of aloe into her bag and marched along.

It had been a long thirteen years since she last visited Bernadette. The hag would no doubt remember her. Even the simplest of children knows that a witch never forgets, for she bottles her memories when her head becomes full.

A dilapidated hut stood before her, encircled by fungus and foxes. The animals did not flee upon sighting the fair lady, and instead watched her as she crept up the wicked steps and rapped on the moldy plank that was used for a door. The clearing reeked of cinnamon, which contrasted sharply to the ghastly fragrance that emanated from the shack, an odor that could only be likened to a combination of dead amphibians and indigestion.

The door burst open with the shove of a skeletal hand draped in human flesh. The rapture frightened the nearby creatures and announced their departure. A withered woman of countless years garbed in a drab robe of grey lurched from within.

The corpse's lips parted. "Aw, Katarina, how Daebellan the times have treated you. Could this day of twenty and seven days into the final seeding be the day your mother and her mother and her mother swore to me all those moons and suns ago?" Its voice was a whisper filtered through a grave of gravel.

A sing-song sonata poured from the beauty before the beast. "Yes, madam, yes, the time has come for the reading. The cards tell me I am with child, and my blood tells me I must honor my family's pact."

The news lifted the corners of the witch's mouth. "Excellent, excellent, yes, do come in, I must prepare a few things before all is prepared. Do be a good child and seat yourself with your body to the south."

The girl nodded in compliance as she daintily entered the cabin. Jars of bright liquids and baskets of herbs adorned the walls while skins of far-away beasts coated the floors. Curious sigils encircled the single table in the room, which she took to be her destination. The sorceress' directions were followed, and she faced herself to the south.

The robed figure approached the table after a few minutes, bringing a basket of bits and baubles. "Now, I shall lay the cypress leaves. Come, lay your hands before you, palms down." The girl silently performed as instructed as the witch sprinkled a circle of leaves around each of the maiden's hands. A mysterious incense was burned, and bizarre words were uttered as the crone chanted ancient magicks. "Now we must form the bond, do not flinch lest you anger the spirits at work." An intricate blade was drawn from the basket. The hag carved a small vertical line into its left hand, and a horizonal line into the lady's right hand. A smear of witch blood completed the cross on the maiden's hand, and a smudge of woman blood finished the cross on the hag's hand.

The witch shut its eyes and asked the same of the girl. "Yes," it whispered, "our senses are now intertwined, and I shall gaze into you. Do not speak, and do not move. This process requires utmost concentration. Yes, it is coming to me. You are indeed with child, I see. And it would seem that your ancestor's debt shall be paid as you are to birth a man!" Its tone crescendoed with excitement. "I see a man, a handsome, wise, agile and strong sort. Raven black hair dances about his shoulders, sharpness adorns his face, his eyes a deep crimson, nay, one is of a pale amber, and the other a deep violet. They seem to change as I gaze upon him. He is armored and adorned with trinkets of splendour. I see him casting fire upon his foes and plunging blades into their gullets. Blood is spilled across him. I see...a crown? He has fashioned jewellery from the corpses of those before him! The-the sky is on fire, and I see him leading a charge upon a defenseless village! Oh Ircyrne, what madness is this? Oh!"

A loud crash disturbed the tension and invited the girl to open her eyes and observe the disturbance. The hag lay crumpled upon the floor, muttering to itself too soft for all but the winds to hear.

"Madam, what is it? What is wrong? Is this not what you asked of my mother's grandmother? Here, allow me to assist you."

The witch hissed as the lady extended her hand in aid. "Malur lost daal!" it shrieked as the figure rose from the floor. Confusion flashed across the face of both as the witch exclaimed sounds from an alien language. "I shall explain nothing! The pact is dissolved! I demand you begone from these woods, and never return lest I curse your entire lineage with plague!"

No amount of stuttering from the woman could delay the shoving and pushing as the hag forced her out of the cabin and sealed the door with a combination of lock and spell.

Katarina returned to her beloved Ambrose in the mountains so she may have her child in peace.

Travelers often invoke the name of Katarina to ward off witches and warlocks during their travels in Eastern High Rock. Scholars widely debate whether or not the woman even existed, but nonetheless, Katarina's cabin is an often visited location by those on spirit quests, and her role, be it symbolic or historical, cannot be disputed in the destruction to come.