Worlds Beyond Number - Interlude: Alf Gappen Was Here

Episode Date: December 9, 2025

In the frozen hills of Rhuv, the Sigrunsgjalfi Children’s Home sits silent beneath a sky of unfamiliar stars. No lights glow in the windows and no signs of celebration mark the coming of Alf Gappen���s Day. Yet in the stillness, a single sleeping child hums a quiet tune that carries impossibly far across the snow. Three spirits hear it and cross the tundra to a place stripped of joy, determined to bring warmth and wonder. We are:Brennan Lee MulliganErika IshiiAabria IyengarLou WilsonProduced by Taylor Moore at Fortunate Horse, original score by Will Savino, and edited and designed by Jared Olson. Transcript of this episode coming soon! 

There are few things like winter that marry the feelings of wonder and joy with sorrow and solitude in icy plains, stretching between lines of dark and naked trees, leaves vanished, icicles hanging and glinting under the starlight. No drop of thaw to be seen for miles and miles. Under unfamiliar stars that we have not seen yet in Umura, the center of snowy hills, whose long and shallow slopes indicate the vastness of this. place that grants a feeling of loneliness, and yet in their gentle sloping obscures the horizon. This building sits at the end of a wet black road of gravel and dirt surrounded by icy white in all directions. An inch and a half of ice over the hard-packed snow such that foot-fetched

falls of any who have wandered remain visible for some weeks. There has been no precipitation recently, but neither has there been warmth. The building is ominous gray stone, its shadows long and dark under the starlight, the crescent moon. The distance from any city means that not only are the stars themselves, but even distant arms of stars create swaths of ambient milky brightness in the night sky. The crescent moon hangs in the light reflecting off the snow, means that even the circular darkness hugging that crescent moon has some texture to it.

This building, amidst all this ice, is a place of sorrow. of sorrow, hopelessness, and oppressiveness. I would like each of you to describe some element of this building that can be seen with the naked eye or touched with a bare and frozen hand that would give some pause or feeling of dread to a wanderer arriving here for the first time. The outer portion of it is big,

and imposing against this barren landscape. But there is something in the repeated angular concrete brick of it that both juts out and in the texture of it itself hides small windows so that unless you catch it from the right angle, this building isn't uninterrupted, like, mass of gray concrete with no light going in or out. And that repeated texture throws a strange shadow so it almost feels like your eye slips across it. It's this thing that you can't look away from

but also can't focus on for too long simultaneously. The light of the stars though it falls brightly on the exterior of this building. casts shadows just as dark in contrast. And due to the cleverness of its design, it is shadows alone that touch the windows of this place. Two large imposing doors stand as this building's entrance.

Their edges reinforced with steel and wrought iron. Two gorgeous rings stand at about average height as to be used to open the door, beautifully carved gemstone. Yet it's hard to notice their beauty because of how ice cold they are to the touch. Even those objects of beauty here must keep some edge to them. In this case, what is pleasing to the eye. will certainly not be to the touch. The grounds around this strange gray building harbor shapes under the snow.

They're probably saplings, young saplings, or maybe even some sort of sculptures. Probably, probably. They twist at... irregular angles and various sizes. But they're probably, again, just trees. Obscured under the weight of snow, there is some mystery to growing things

in a place this cold, Bruns Gjofi Children's Home. And welcome, for the first time in this campaign, to the land of Rueh. Within the Segrunzgyz Gioffi Children's Home, home are many the lost and forsaken. This is a land that has known war, cruelty of distant rulers, the misfortunes of fate, but it is not a land without heart or hope or joy. However, those things meet and meet very often here. And though this place is dedicated to be a home for

children who have lost everything. It is not a warm home. It is not a place that cares for the souls or hearts of children, even as it seeks to stave off the deaths of their physical bodies. Within this place, children sleep at this late hour, believing that on the morrow they will miss once again, the coming of a day to which other children in Rove are entitled. And in their dreams do the dreams of a holiday spin about? I would ask each of you to describe for me a dream of joy that these children hold that they believe with all their hearts is not coming.

A dream of joy to which children of better circumstances will be entitled, and they themselves will not. Traditions, rituals, feasts, or rites of joy. I'd like everyone here to describe one such tradition that they, in their dreams, do not see coming for themselves. There's a tradition around knit gloves. that comes to this holiday. It's the little remnants of wool from a beautiful summer and growing season,

and then as the days get shorter, and you have to spend more of your time inside because all of the crops have been brought in and the days are getting shorter and colder. You begin to work on the mittens that you give to your family. and they are given on this holiday with the understanding that these are the mittens that will hold you through the coldest part of the year and will herald back the sun. These mittens are knit from, you said, scraps or remnants. For those visiting Rue for the first time, in Imperial, the patchwork mittens of this day are known, but of course the word for that in Ruvian.

is Lepetepe. So a child dreams with shivering hands under a thin blanket of Lepetepe gloves. Oh, all the kids want Lepidepi. Just give the children Lepidemi. There are hats.

Hats adorned with emblems and chotchkes and representation of all of the gifts and joys of the year, of the harvest, of toys that children received or passed on in the kind of the turning of the year. These hats are made of paper and then drawn on with different little bits of fabric or even natural elements glued on. And they are expected to be worn at a great feast that happens to celebrate this day.

Far distant in the histories of Rove are legends of a great spirit. Some call him the Mary Hunter, some the Grey Harper. His most popular name amongst the common folk and farmers was the cauldron father, a spirit, of feasting days, warmth, community, feeding of the hungry. And in the original legends of this midwinter day, knowing that there were those lost and cold in the forest, did the cauldron father make for himself a crown of embers, which he wore to light his way and bring warmth to the dark forest?

And as the embers sparked, he placed many other gifts among them to keep them warm for the hands of those throughout his journeys. That crown of embers eventually got reduced down to the ember hat, which eventually got reduced all the way down to what was called the word for ember being glor. And then the glor hat eventually got translated back to the glory hat. So what was the crown of embers once is now called a little bit more frivolously The Glory Hat. However, the gifts that adorn it bear their original Ruvian name of

Crimscram. What are you fucking doing? I've got fucking bars. I'm losing my mind. This guy's out of control right now. Truly. Just... One more time, what is it called? Crimscram. Mm-hmm. All right.

It's a real, and the kids of Roof know that it's bullshit if you get Lepitapie gloves as part of your crimscram. That's supposed to be separate. It's its own other thing. And the hats in Roof, depending on how most common folk in Roof have a hat, and the gifts go on the hat and when they make up in the morning, that's where the gifts are.

And they are supposed to be small because that's what most people can do. Wealthy families in Roof will make the hat vastly oversized and decorated with alchemical lights and other gaudy things, and we'll make it a wide brim hat, even though it's not supposed to be, so that there's more space for more gifts on the ground. Look, it's made of paper. Paper's free. I can make as big a paper hat as I want. My kids deserve the best. There is also a tale of another visitor, separate from the cauldron father. This is a spirit who takes the shape, partially. of a bird, partially of an old lady.

She comes door to door on the morn after the cauldron father, and you must open the door for her and sing her a new song, a song from your household that you make together. And if she is satisfied with this song, she will perhaps offer a treat. If you do not offer her a song or hospitality, she will be angry and perhaps you will receive something far less delightful. But of course the children of Rove and the adults of Rove know that she is not real, so every year perhaps a village will have this old woman with a bird mask that goes door to door hearing the songs of the household. Of the coming of the old bird woman, many children of young age are terrified.

And in many houses throughout Rove, by the time children approach the, you know, the coming of young adulthood, they find an old burlap costume in the back of a closet or a fake beak hidden somewhere in their parents' belongings. And shut her to think of. of how terrified they were of her coming, always wondering why she sounded somewhat like mom or dad. And why their mother or their father could never seem to be around when they came. They'd missed them every year. However, for children old enough not to be frightened,

but young enough to still believe, this is, of course, the highlight of. of the day, the excitement and thrill of the coming of the old bird witch, Zerga, to hear the song of the family and to reward them with treats, caramel sweets and sponge sugar, and fresh pressed cinnamon sort of flat waffle cookies and delicious baked goods. All the children look forward to. And of course, that night as the sun sets and the crimscram is being played with and the treats from the bird which are being eaten, you must leave some space for the great feast at the end of Alph Goppen's Day. Our story begins on Alph Gabbin's Day Eve, deep in the tundras of

Roof at the Sigruns-Kjalfi children's home, a place of sorrow, melancholy, coldness, where those charged with the care of children do their utmost to extend no warmth or light to those within their care a single song hummed in anticipation of a day that the singer believes is not coming liltz plaintively over the snow and has heard by three spirits who will see this day brought to bear. You'd think I was going to let us tell a story. Yeah, I was like how to build the saddest orphan. I was truly ready to build like a sad young man.

Yeah, yeah. I was like, how many limbs do I leave off? Three scelphi children's home, having heard the faint notes of song over the snow. This is a place that has been built to be a place of forgetting. These children will not be forgotten. I'd like each of you to describe one of three beings who travel together under some form of obscuring magic to make this place ready for Alth Goppen's Day. I'll be playing

Ursula. And we're describing our glimmers? You can describe yourselves however you wish. If you wish to be a tiny ice fairy, if you wish to be a fully glamored spirit, if you wish to be the fucking man in black. If you wish to be,

these are the spirits that now approach this place come to do work that is not, asked of spirits. It is the role of people to revere the traditions of their own folk stories. Parents lovingly prepare the glory hat. They lovingly either some well-to-do parents buy, but many make the crimscramed toys to go on the hat and most prepare a feast as lavish as they can, which For some is not much, but it's, and then some prepare, even if it's just a handful of hard biscuits with a little bit of some dried fruit in them or something to give as Zerga the next day, they do something to prepare for this day. This is a situation in which this place has not prepared this festival and the spirits that now descend in the dark of night to do the work that grown, people. people should know to do for children have come here. If they have come on behalf of some of the

spirits of the day itself, that is all to the good, or perhaps they are simply domestic spirits of the type that populate roof. There are many household spirits, those that mend the shoes of children or sweep the hearths or otherwise protect those who have had a small prayer whispered over them by someone that loves them. There are many things that might come here to make sure that the children had this day. What they all share in common is that they were alerted to the need for this work by the notes of a song sung in the night by a distant child's voice. Okay. I have a question. Do you have a physical description in mind for the Queen of Coins? No, I do not. Okay. Great. I'm.

No, no. I'm not playing the Queen of Coins. I am Ziva, a spirit of the tundra. It's a spirit of when you yell out and an echo later sounds different, the like slight warping. Because Ziva, like, linguistically sounds like if you were yelling a, like, shortened version of, like, hey or hello. But it came back, like, the word howl. Yeah. So that idea of, like, echoes at a distance. get a little scarier when they start to sound a little different.

Yeah. So she is a spirit of that, like, sort of child fear of, like, the far distance away from the safety of your home in a land that you know is your home. And so it's very close to a lot of, like, Zerga's whole deal of being a thing that children are scared of but don't really need to be. But yeah, the form that she's taking and trying very desperately to hold is the Queen of Coins, but her own nature is such that it's not quite what she looks like. It's a little more monstrous.

So she is a little too gaunt for the Queen of Coins who's very voluptuous and in like sort of opulent, like, Leathers and velvets in these beautiful jewel tones adorned with gold. And this looks like maybe like the cosplay version. And she's a little too thin. And her eyes are a little too dark. And her smile is just a little too wide. And she looks like the scary version of the Queen of Coins, a spirit that is not well known here.

Who else travels towards Sigruns Yavi? Striding across the snow. Elegance, regal, a massive, larger than any eleanor, has a right to beat or festooned with sparkling ice like diamonds. The steam emitting from his nose as he breathes in the cold air. Feel warm. It can almost melt the snow as he passes. This is a spirit who was once a steed of the cauldron father himself. As tales change and time moves on, sometimes spirits,

no longer have the iconography in the trappings of the old tales. But this elk is still associated with Alf Goppen. perhaps a grandfather or a grandmother or a great-grandfather or grandmother would remember the depictions of the cauldron father with this massive steed this elk has gone by many names in past but for now prefers to be called and what of this third spirit?

Buttery crumbs fall from the mouth of this three-foot spirit head equisized to his body the remnants of a hot, warm biscuit in his left hand, and an oversized fork in his right. Exaggerated features of big nose, a wide mouth, gleaming eyes. There stands Pato,

the spirit, servant of the hearth father. It is fair to say that the tundra surrounding the Sigrunsky Alfie children's home bears, to put it one poetic way, the luster of midday, though it be the middle of the night. The snow reflecting moon and starlight grants pale and ghostly illumination to the unfolding events as a massive forest elk, the glamored visage of a ghost of echoes. A flying cookie spirit arrive at the last tree line of black bark, translucent shimmering icicles

and white snow weighing down the branches a curtain of the last arm of nature before the wide, white, rolling hillside that approaches the orphanage. What do you do as the Sigruns Gioffi Children's Home comes into view? Delightful smell of sugar and maple syrup and cinnamon from a sort of crunching waffly biscuit. And, Pada, you smell on the wind.

There is not a single treat or biscuit, cake or cookie, muffin or bun in that building. This is a terrible place. Oh. Gallup and Ziva. What are your reactions? I know what a Brea and Erica's reactions are. I'm interested in Gallup and Ziva. After you, big boy.

Someone must bring the festivities to this place. Must bring Merriment to this terrible place. Mixing together her friend's words. The lilton notes of a child's song have brought all of you to this place. There is a wordless, soft. humming to them. And I want everyone here to give me a perception check. 17 for Pato. 15 for Ziva.

15. Hey! All of you perceive the voice lelting wordlessly. And I think come to the same realization, given that there are no words being spoken, you realize that this is sort of being hummed or muttered? It is not being full-throatedly sung, which each and every one of you makes you question how you can hear it so clearly at this distance. And I think Ziva has a spirit of sound.

I think that you wonder if the singer of this song is even awake. Is there, I want to try to pick up the signal for this, like, and try to trace it back to its origin. What can I do? Give me a perception check again to see if you can nail down. We'll call it another difficulty 15 to get something and difficulty 20 to pinpoint it. 19. It's not plus anything, but, yeah.

19. The sound is coming from a far wing, farther away from those large central double doors. You sense that there are other doors nearby, but not many. It's not in a big city. It's like anywhere you would leave the building, you'd still need to head out to the road to get anywhere. But it is far away on one of the wings of the building away from those central doors. So hearing it, it is near, nearer to you than the farthest way point of the building. But to get into the building, you would probably have to traverse a lot of the interior to a arrive at whatever that voice is.

Oh, it must be a song for Zerga. She'd like that. Back in my day, we would have no trouble at all, getting inside a home and leaving the gifts. I don't suppose that mortals, ways of of barring us have advanced much in the whole hundred, two hundred years.

But you know more of them, don't you Potto? We shall see. Potto is going to just gently start to glide across the ice. Floating as you do, you begin to approach across the ice.

I am going to roll. Are you taking any invisibility? on yourself, or are you letting yourself sort of be seen under the moon and starlight? I think as Pado passes, as you said, the last edge of the tree line, I think Pato will become invisible, though for his friends, there is a clear trail of crumbs for them to follow. Moving across, you head towards a small sort of beef. beginning orchard of these young sapling trees surrounding the Sigrun's Guelphi children's home. You approach them and see the large double doors.

The first thing you notice is that there is no dish of burnt fireplace coals spread with salt and birdseed. So there's nothing that's been left out for Zerga. and you also see that there is no pine and berries garlanded over the door. So there's no welcoming decorations for Alf Goppen's Day here. I think there's something with that, the lack, like the utter lack of, like, celebration and decoration. It's not an act of deference. It's the fact that it's utterly bereft of joy.

Yeah, I think Ziva is going to, like, make a beeline for those big, doors in the front. And echoing one of Gallup, like a bit of Gallup's phrase, is going to say, no trouble. And I want to shatter those doors open, but try to swallow the

sound of it. Hell yes. So, Pato, you approach, are you walking or flying? I think I'm doing a scary lady, like, just barefoot run across the snow. Unbelievable. Gorgeous. You're colliding.

Yeah. Yeah, you walk across the snow, your feet colder than the, as your feet touch, frost spreads over the ice. Thank you. Gallup, how do you approach? Oh, yes. And seeing that, if I would like to also follow it up with the silence, if my compatriot does not swallow it all. incredible. So Gallup, you are going to... Actually, this is like a cool double move here. So Gallup, you're going to cast

silence as you cast what? Shatter. Go ahead and roll damage for Shatter if you'd be so kind. And this is a double you will have the ability to deal double damage here because as we've established, there is a gemstone crystalline component to the doors.

That's double to 28 points. Double to 28 points? Yeah. Ziva, what does it look like as you shattered the doors, and what is the sound we would normally hear? It's like a super amplification of the sound of like gallop, like breaking through that frost,

like that crush of his hooves through the ice, and it's just like turned up and distorted and turned up and distorted until it barely sounds like normal, like masonry explode. It's like a scream and a shatter and chants. I love it. There is one set of elk prints approaching. And if there were a very careful ranger or witch here to observe, they would see that from the crunch of the snow,

something like wind, but in fact magic, pulls the crunching ice in the direction of the doors, barreling out as a cone and amplifying. As the noise of cracking, crunching, Ice is matched to the perfect frequency of the gemstone and hinges. The doors blow off the hinges except for... Some of the crystallized breath of this gentle elk pass out in a cloud enveloping the entirety of the shattered remains of the door. You hear nothing, just a vacuum of nothing, as the absolute.

absolute mayhem is contained for 20 feet. Every spar of the shattered doors that hits stone is fresh powder snow in the moment of hitting the stone. The doors are simply gone, and it looks like some snow blew into this place. Pado, you are hovering over, you are hovering overhead, having approached and seeing this place. The doors are made open wide. Crumbs have followed you, but you are flying currently and invisible. I am going to make a luck check in front of the board because of Ziva and Gallup's unhidden approach. It is the witching hour, which here in Rube is 3 o'clock in the morning.

That is a 5. Plus? Plus nothing. That is the bottom 25% of possible rules. Okay. Potto, a candle lights in a second story window, near to the central sort of keep is a strong word, but that central blocky cube

that juts out into various wings of the orphanage. But you see a candle light, invisibly, I think you're less than 10 feet away from a scowling old woman's, face that goes underlit by a sputtering tallow candle, this sort of old woman that has a just a consistently pinched, angry looking face who you can see her bed is perfectly made and she was sleeping upright in a chair facing out the window. She just glowers out and would have even her eyes opening for a moment, you think she saw an elk, which is strange and

but not impossible. But the image of a ghostly woman, a ghostly queen of coins, approaching this place. And before she knew what was up, had to get up and you don't think she's heard the door, but you think that she saw the approach of your companions. Pato is going to make visible his face.

Smile wide. Back to sleep. sleep at a third level. Oh my God. All right. She is a commoner. She's got five hit points. Oh, bro.

Cast it lower. Great. We'll do a second level sleep. Was that 5D8 or something? Yeah, exactly. Okay, great. You, what does it look like as you cast sleep? I think it's truly just,

uh, Pato just gives her the idas. There is just a feeling of fullness and weight and an immense desire. I think as Potto's smile grows wide, she too, like, her pinched face

cracks a thin grin. The eyes get heavy, and she sits back in her upright chair. As she sits back in her upright chair, her last, warm bread pudding. And a little snore escapes that

blows out the candle in her lap and that little curl of smoke from the blowed-out candle as she just sleeps with a warm, full stomach and a little bit of food sweat right around her hairline. Those meat sweats, man. Those will get you every time. Damn. I want to run over and hug

Potto's head while it's visible and just give you big hug and go, no trouble. Well done, my friends. So, the door has blasted open. You see an opening hall I mean, maybe it's somewhere else in here,

but this is probably where it would go. There is no glory hat. Neither large nor small, no crimscram. There are no decorations. No Lepitapi laid out on a table or by a fireplace to be worn the next day. No beautiful candles strewn in pine. No pictures of Alf Goppen anywhere,

either made of parchment or of cloth in anticipation of the days coming. It is simply a cold stairwell leading up to the second story. Old portraits, much molded and not having been to the test of time, of some ancient Ruvian monarchs whose noblesse obelige saw to the building of this place to care for the dispossessed children of their dominion. And the only decoration being these ancient monarch portraits, you see no sign of festive spirit, no sign of the coming of Alv Goppen, but you have foiled your would-be sort of like guard or alert being raised and have gained entry to the orphanage. What do you do? Pato is going to kind of again, never sets foot on the ground,

but will come down to his, so that his toes are just kind of grazing along the floor and I think pull out a small chili pepper. The hearth father wants the flame is going to eat the chili pepper and cast fire shield. So a warm hearth springs out all around Potto, and as we move through it, little embers will be left as we travel. Oh, my God.

This ancient fireplace here, and you can see that this fireplace is functional, but has not been lit. The expense of having a big roaring fire to actually heat this place is past what the people wish to pay for or have the funds to pay for here. And so suddenly a roaring wood fire, roos, leaps into place in the hearth, and you can actually hear this like merry popping of the stone warming and places like warmth

beginning to fill throughout the orphanage here. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Incredible. I would like, okay, we're getting weird with spells, I like it. I would love to have a conversation with the portraits. Because what is a portrait, if not an echo? And kind of an echo of the dead. So maybe this is speak with dead.

I would love to convince them maybe to get a little festive for the day if I can. You see that this portrait is not that long ago, maybe about 80 years ago, but this is no longer the current ruler, but this is Kytis Goldvang, the Brahm of Rove. You see beautiful fur-lined green and golden cloak on a deep white and purple speckled vest of military acclaim and resolve. This enormous way over the top, fur and platinum and gem. The crown that he's wearing looks like just a multitude of gem and captured starlight and this enormous mustache that extends past both of his cheeks, like waxed to fine points. He holds what is a staff, but it is a staff made of like metal scepter material.

It must weigh like over a hundred pounds, this like metal. fucking scepter staff he's holding. And he's got his hand on a great sword that is itself jewel-encrusted. And you see behind him the opening of like a castle window in the portrait that has like a lake of swans behind him and a distant snow-capped mountains

as he looks at. And he's drawn here with ice-blue eyes looking so angry. Just staring out, surrounded by riches, just glowering out of like, not at the viewer, but, you know, 15 degrees to the right for his royal portrait. I'm going to reach up and grab both sides of the portrait and, like, leaning your face into a pool, just push past it.

Echo of the brahm that was. The portrait's eyes open, it goes, and sour place I now behold. That's my question. What have you built? This is not known to me. What is it? A home for children.

No light, no life. No festivities here. Is this not your doing? My doing, I pressed against it. Seeking for air. There was no sky. Beneath the lake is not right. I was beneath the lake.

And I want to reach forward and grab him and pull him close. You pull him forward to the edge of the portrait. He goes, What has happened has already happened, and your death has been mourned or not. It is of no consequence to me. You are a spirit of the dead, of things, echoes through time and snow and mountains. And I was called here by a child who could not sing the songs of this festival day. Will you fix it?

Here, here, uh, Pato and Gallup. gems and jewels and the riches of the Brahms study are pushed frantically out of the portrait by him clattering along the steps down into the Great Hall as he attempts to foist his fortune out of the portrait to buy his way out of the afterlife he earned. Oh, mortals love these. Maybe put on a fun hat.

And I put him back. Turn back to you guys. No problem. Potto's going to pick up one of the gems to try and eat it. Yuck! Throw it down. No, no. Mortals eat these.

As the gems and things like that clatter, I think you also see a crown clatter down the... So there is a giant festive hat. It's not paper. Oh. A hat in the spirit of the sea. reason. I, like, originally go to offer them to Gallop, and I'm like, oh, hoves, got it.

And I'll sit and, like, in the corner start arranging the layers of gems, kind of like a rainbow on their way out to try to recreate the crown at the center. And then a brim of jewels and money to make the approximation of the glory hat. Unbelievable. Pato, you begin to fly through the spaces here. Are you searching for anything in particular? Headed toward the home, if we're still able to perceive it. Absolutely. Give me an investigation check, if you'd be so kind.

And you can do so with advantage. 11. On an 11, I think that you are flying through looking for them. You are a spirit of hearth and home, but this place defies the logic of a home. And so you find yourself going down the first floor and looking for other stairs. Down here, there are no sleeping places as you go to explore waiting for a staircase that will sort of lead you up, heading in the direction of where you heard the voice. On an 11, what is the place that you discover that is not what you seek?

You are distracted on your path. Potto ends up in the kitchen. You open a kitchen. I think to Pado, who is a jovial and delighted spirit, perhaps no greater sacrilege has come to him than the state of the kitchen you now see. Untended bags of flour sat on cold, damp stone, no fruit or sweets to be found, no sugar finds its way here. There are some sacks of potatoes, some milk left on an open window sill to remain cold in the night.

You see that there are staples and basics, and even those staples and basics are some of them quite old, some of them quite stale. You see, they can make bread here, and there are ways to make good bread. You have the flour to make it, but you see that perhaps worst of all. all, desiccated, unwatered, and unfed in the back of a pantry long abandoned is the original starter for a flavorful peasant bread that was left to die here to make a plainer bread that asked less of the caretakers of this place. No. Otto's plaintive cry has heard. Gallup, what are you doing as you go to the entrance hall? I strided.

Oh, Pardo, we mustn't wake the little one. They have no treats. They have no sweets. Bread gallop. Not even bread. Not even bread. Who?

And I start to bugle, which, as you know, is what male elk do. And the sound, though it carries, I would like it to. summon spirits of the woodlands and spirits of nature, any who might happen to be nearby. You begin to hear as you bugle and cry out, out by the tree line, having followed crumbs all the way here, we see a hopping line of monopped head nature sprites.

These are the aptly name Huppensalfi that have but a single leg with a single foot and wide pointy ears and jerkins and caps made of stitched together

sugar leaf, which is basically a very thin little sugar pastry. And you see that they have come from the woodline with Sacks sacks of hazelnuts and walnuts and snacks. Some of them with dried fruit and others with various spices. And the last couple that hold between them in a little hammock of strung-together pine boughs hopping carefully together a massive glass jar of sugar.

Yeah! And we begin to hop in a line carefully landing, with their single tiny feet. To hide their number. The hop and south feet, Trevor, single tiny to hide their number. Going hoofprint to hoofprint through the snow back across the icy plain behind you

at the sound of gallops bugling. These are the servants of Alf Gappan. Ziva, I need a perception check from you. Yeah. Two. You hear a clang of something upstairs and you hear a voice, an old man's voice go, hello, hello, and see a lantern light growing from an approaching adult coming down

the corridor. Before I go and like alert my friends to the like new awake adult, we've established canonically that great spirits can see out of any thing created in their effigy, correct? That is correct. Would a spirit doing a pretty good job count? I'm going to say that because you are, I'm going to say that a disguise is not an effigy, however, I think it is close enough to gain the attention of the one you invoke. So if you look to one of these frost-covered sconces, there may be a face waiting for you in it. That I want to turn to one of the sconces and make eye contact with the actual queen of coins and take that last handful of

the Brahms like gems and swallow them to give to her in hopes of like it's it's an offering and like please do this on behalf of like this home the sconce flickers and from across a sea. The stories of her have come. For great spirit, stories reach far and wide. And in the lands of the Shroud Mountains far away, she is known as the Queen of Coins, to the South in Gouthmi, the mother of fortune, in some gambling halls in Port Talon as Lady Luck. But here, she looks to you as a sister spirit. As you Swallow the coins you see before her in a regal gown of gold, shimmering sunlight behind her, looking at vast orchards of trees and abundance. We look the same.

We look the same. Of course. She smiles and looks at you. And as the lantern comes around the corner, a piece of good fortune leaves her fingertips, and you are cloaked in shadow as a broad, you. Shouldered, dangerous-looking, cruel man begins to descend down the staircase with a lantern lit, looking at the snow in the hall and the absence of a door. He cannot hear the Hoppens-Alphi approaching, but he does not see you. You swallow the gems, and you see in the sconce her reach

into a massive, beautiful, red velvet sack and pull the gems out of it. She looks to you. Sister Spirit, why do you wear my face? I could not think of a more pleasant one to present to children. Yours is fair indeed in my eyes, sister. Mother help them.

The man's lantern drops, as he beholds gems and a crown and gold coins all scattered at the bottom of the staircase from the Brahms portrait. He goes, I'm rich. Excuse me, I'm going to go slaughter a man. I'll collect. Unbelievable. What do you do as the man turns around? Okay, so she is cloaked in shadow.

I'm going to hit the deck and like crab walk and match his shadow. and then come up behind him, and I just want to do the two-inch twist. Incredible. Unbelievable. You do what every child in Rove is horrified that you do, which is you crab walk backwards and shadowed out of a staircase, like something out of a horror movie,

jump out of his shadow, reach up, go ahead. I'll make a Constitution. Yeah. Or yeah, go ahead and make your roll. Oh, no. It's only going to be a nine to hit. As you reach up to grab him, You do not get him in your clutches.

He falls forward, lunging after the riches, turns around, seize your face. Are you still wearing the face of the Queen of Coins or are you wearing your own face? Oh, I'll wear my own now. You wear your own. He is stuttering and you feel the presence of the Queen of Coins, a great spirit for whom it is trivial to suddenly be by your side. In other words, as you shed the glamour, it's just her. Oh, can I get, can I use Horrify? Can I get a wisdom save?

Oh, yes, yes, yes. What does Horify do? Sorry. It's a DC-13 wisdom save, just to take the frightened condition. He is stuttering. Leave it. He looks at the coins, is told to leave it. And you see that he looks at everything, a future.

as he shudders there, and the Queen of Coins turns to you and smiles and says, Do you believe that you hold treasure true? I am Queen of Coins, goddess of good fortune, and spirit of treasure true. This is not treasure, not yet. And she blows from her fingertips

and gold dust alights and transforms every golden coin into a small toy and every gem into a blessed warm sock or a spun scarf and litters the ground. And the crown of the Brahm of Rove transforms into the most glorious red paper hat you've ever seen. The man screams in disgust at what the Queen of Coins has done in horror at your visage.

Ziva, it is your turn. Yeah. I'm not going to attack him because he got God. Instead, his scream, I want to grab it and break it and turn it into a chorus of that song to be hummed in harmony with the voice that we heard. He opens his mouth to scream. A note of music comes out. He will never be able to speak, only sing.

for the rest of his life, and he sprints into the snow. If he survives, he will never be seen in this building again. He's an Elf Goppenstay miracle. The Queen of Coins embraces you, smiles, and departs for lands far away. And in her parting words, simply says to you, From this day forward, let your face be the face of miracles to those children here. I think a story of a ghost that frightens only the wicked on behalf of little ones is a story this land needs. She vanishes, and in that moment of connection, the first monopod elf hops into the entry hall.

Ah! Toys, toys, toys everywhere! Crim's scram! Crim's cram! Gallop! We return to the kitchens. Together, suddenly, as Pato's weeping and Galp Bugling ends, you hear the steady strumming of far-distant music,

and the Hoppens Alfie begin to parade into the kitchen, lifting up their offerings to you, Pato. Yes, yes! Pado is going to take their offerings, and I think using the flametheel, light the hearth, and be upset about, making pots and pans, and I'm going to cast animate objects at fifth level.

I'm going to just fucking beauty and the beast this shit. Let's go. The kitchen gladly leaps to work as flying sauce pans fill themselves, as the hearth roars too in the wood, and you see that the hoppens off you go and get this desiccated sort of like half-gone starter from the back and begin to like open it up

and sniff and prod at it. You see that the, The sugar and the flour begin to mix. They get the milk off the ledge. You see the cover them, look and go. Eggs. Oh, eggs. We need eggs.

Where are they going to get the eggs from? I look to one of the hoppence I'll feed. Eggs, you shall have. I'm going to cast polymorph and turn it into a chicken. Potto, you turn it to a chicken. You start cranking out eggs, baby. Oh, I, no. I can't.

I can't. Oh, I guess, yeah, let me polymorph myself. Polymorph myself and do chickens start cranking out eggs. Poo! Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! My God!

Unbelievable. The kitchens are popping off. Hoppens Alfie, grabbing eggs from a massive crumb-covered chicken that holds a spoon in its beak. Gallup and Ziva, what are you doing? I see that the kitchen is well equipped, and I head back into the entrance of the hall. Oh, Ziva, you found toys. Found toys. Very nice.

I suppose all that's left is to finish that song. So I would like to, without waking the children, fill their hands. heads with a dream of the song that they will sing together. Go ahead and give me either another investigation role, or you can just go ahead and give me like a persuasion role if you would like to hear. Can I give the help, actually? Yes, you can. As you walk through this space, you give a dream.

You see, I think, Gallup in this place that. Dreams of stories that have been deprived from these children for a long time take root. And moving through these very dark dormitories with beds shivering under thin blankets, but starting to warm as the fire of the downstairs hearth spreads, you arrive at the last bed and see that there are some empty beds on either side of the last little child. who sleeps in a corner here alone. No one has chosen to sleep near the child. The child has moved sort of to the farthest place they can.

And you realize from where you are in the building, this is the child who was singing in their sleep. Ziva, the man who you know has fled forever from this place, cursed to be only able to sing and never to speak. Fun for him. Fun for him. Fun for him. You see his office.

He appears to be like, the woman that now sleeps in that chair that Potto put to sleep appeared to be the governess. This appears to be the like tutor or head instructor. You look in his office and see books covered in dust. It appears that this man has just sat here in this place collecting payment for a service never rendered. That the education of these children here has not been tended to at all. in the time you've been here. But you see that there are some books in here that are tales of fairies, folklore,

and stories of spirits in the local place. And you see that there is one that seems oddly familiar to you. I run for that book. You open the book up and see that this is an old book, and it's dense, and the stories are rich and pro- found and you see here a story about yourself that is so old and untold that you realize you had been close to forgetting it yourself. Ziva is known by all the children in this part of Rove as the haunting echo, the greeting that becomes the howl as it rings off the mountainside.

Ziva's always been a frightening ghost, a spirit of nighttime and of faraway places. You see in this story it is a story of echoes. And in a long ago time when Ziva was more than a ghost and was actually regarded truly as a spirit before her shrines were shattered, she was a spirit of echoes because before that she was a spirit of justice and reflected the heart like an echo reflecting a voice a wicked man sent running into the snow

but someone that a child would know to love and trust upon seeing her face Siva takes a moment to read it and remember and just takes a deep breath and I'm going to start ripping out all the pages of my story and folding them into little origami, like, hearts that open up that you can, like, slip little presents in. And I want to leave, I want to leave one on each child's bed. So to learn the story of me, if they want to, they have to work together to read it.

Parchment, storybook gifts with little treasures wrapped in each page, oh wait for the children in the morning. Gallup, you approach the edge of the room and see the sleeping child at the bottom. Why is this child all alone? Do you wish to give me an insight check to

see? Yes. Let's go. Oh, 16. As dreams of Alf Gabbin's day move throughout this place, your breath literally spiraling in that hot vapor.

in the cold air, finding the children who feel the warmth and whose smiles wide and even in sleep. You see the children here are not well fed. They are skinny, wiry, and you see this is a six or seven-year-old little girl short-cropped hair, as everyone here has short-cropped hair. the hair is cut as a matter of hygiene, you look at her and see that the children have kept their distance from her of their own volition. She shivers here, having heard in her slumber the wailing below and sort of cut her song short, and you see that you have yet to give this warm dream to her. Well, I would especially like to give a gift of a warm dream to a child with song in their heart. The vapor curls from your nostrils, goes down, and you see the little girl stops shivering. There's a warmth, a smile crosses her lips, and she slumbers peacefully dreaming of an Elf Goppen's day that might meet her on the morning.

May I see what her dream was? peering deeper, you see out in the ice behind the building. No structures of play erected, rather just a cold, frost-covered concrete yard. Or the children, at least, where the snow and ice is swept away by the adults enough to just give them a place to run. you see her off by herself and hear the taunts of other children, calling her a witch. This child is one who is different, but it must, I am told, be hard for mortals to be different. I think at this moment, too, Pato, below in the kitchens, the Hoppins Alfie all is well and all is right in this place.

So the Hoppins Alfie are now cooking with gas, the animated stove, everything, a feast of feast is being prepared. And specifically also, the treats, Zerga's treats, are well prepared for tomorrow. And you see one of the hoppens alfie is about to head out the door with a small dish of ashy coals, salt and bird seed. and before he goes, one of the other, hoppens off, he goes, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, and covers it with a plate because he's about to hop down the hallway. A bunch of bird seed. Yeah.

And then Pato will change back into form and glide up the stairs. Pado and Ziva, you approach Gallup at the end of the children's dormitory. You have your last little parchment gift for this bed. What is it? This little one is... not quite a human, but not of our world. But she

knows she can or do you know of the witches? A witch! And I think all of you look and nod realizing that to sing a song that the spirits can hear is the gift of a witch. The song you heard that brought you here that somehow reached, even though she simply murmured it in dreams.

She called us here, but it seems that it is even more difficult for her, even in this sad place. I'm not sure that she'll be able to find a real home here even after the good we've done. What do you suggest? I think that I would like to appear to her in her dream to speak with her. You see a dream of a little girl sitting at the feet of a mother and father whose faces are not rendered with precision in this dream. simply the warmth of what they might have been and a roaring fire and she eats a jam-covered waffle

and rests her head against a knee and feels the warmth of a bright fire. Hello, little one. She looks up at you. It's a little seven-year-old girl. Hi. What does Gallup look like in this dream? In this dream, Gallup looks like.

a stately older gentleman. This is brown hair wiry like a elk's fur. He has a suit on with bone fastenings, also brown. He has kindly eyes a little bit wet and crinkled at the corners. Little one, you sing the song that can call spirits. What are you called? Yes. Oh, I'm called Neif. Neif. Such a lovely name. I am called Gallup. Like the, like Alf Goppen's stag. Like one of the nine stags. Yes, little one. Why are you so alone? I.

I don't know. I think the other kids are scared because I can hear the elves and tree line and the sprites in the ice. Yes, that is your gift. You are a witch. Gallup thinks back to the witches that he has known in his time. He's seen good witches and wicked witches. He's seen witches that were so old and wise, but I don't think he's ever met a witch

who's so young and so untried yet. In his old prime, back when he was working with the Caldran father, he perhaps could have offered her a home with them. But he knows that this, child does not belong with roaming spirits. This child must find someone to teach them the ways of witchcraft. And so, as a kindly old man, he kneels beside her and he says, Neif, though I find you here at the Sigran's galfi children's home. You do not belong here.

You will find a home. You will find it and you will be loved and you will belong and you will learn to sing your song. This is my Elkoppin's gift to you. I can only offer you the blessing of three spirits who are very, very grateful for all you have done this night. And I think standing in the doorway of this dream is Pato and Ziva, who can see this as well. What is, you don't have to define it fully, but what is the essence of Gallup's gift or wish for Neif? Gallup wishes for her to be in a place where she is warm, where she is love,

where she sings and she understands the power of her song. He can't be there for her a whole way. He and his powers in this part of the world are waning, but he can give a protection to her, a protection until she finds that home. Siva will step through the doorframe. and as she reaches out the shape of her gift

is like the wrapping around Neif's dream heart with that origami heart and without saying anything I want this to be the moment between Gallup and Neif specifically is the gift that she's going to offer to give her the fortitude

to endure whatever comes and to feel in her heart when she finds someone that speaks at the same frequency as her to know it and see it and trust it and follow it

beautiful potto a biscuit warm and buttery the little child in her dream eats the biscuit and is warm, and you can see these three gifts. You feel as spirits in this place that the reach of your magic, the reach of your breath,

as eternal as you might be, the reach of your breath is not. And so the limits of the gifts you give are known to you in this moment. The gift of home and the hope of a warm hearth is a gift that must contend with time. For this child will know times of great loneliness and cold. You give the gift of fortitude and wisdom. To hold on and to know when others mean you well. But the gift. has its other side.

Though she will know and know true when she meets one with her best intentions in their heart, of her own heart, she may struggle to be sure. And with a buttery warm biscuit, she has a full belly,

which is the thing you need to make it every day until hope can be secured. As you turn to leave her dream, she looks and says, wait, wait, You've been so nice. It's your Huff Garpin's Day, too.

And she turns and begins to hand you from an enormous dream-sized pile of Lepitepi. Just these beautiful, fuzzy mittens, all the colors of the rainbow that she pushes into your hands. And as you depart the dream, you find yourself looking at the first spell that this little witch ever cast. that she will for years believe that she has never cast magic. And a mountain of brightly colored mittens stands before you in the world of the real at the end of her bed. Oh, I don't believe I've ever received Lepi-Tubby before. Me neither. I have quite a few mittens.

Well, I'll take yours then, and I use his... for my hind hooves. Oh, that's so cute. Remembering the fullest and the most expanded version of myself, Ziva remembers a witch a very long time ago that she had a wonderful working relationship with. I don't know if that is still the Witch of the Winden Stars,

but she needs training. and I knew a good witch a long time ago. And I'm going to cast skyright overhead and make a massive sigil of, like, awareness for all the stars to see that an apprentice is here. The light moves through the sky, far north from this already frozen place in a palace of ice.

One of the greatest witches of this world turns to regard the nighttime sky, raises an eyebrow, and curls a painted lip in a shiver of a smile. The Lepitepe stand here at the foot of the bed, and your night's work is coming to a swift conclusion. The time has come to leave. The wishing hour is almost over.

I'm going to take my Leputepi, and sprint. So with that awful Tudor gone, is the governess the like the adult of this place? Yes. Then I'm going to sprint down back to her asleep in her office. I would love to cast Gaius on her. Go for it, yes. Yeah, a spirit of echoes and justice and the thing that I don't want. to have to return to her in fury.

So if I can cast it while she's still sort of like in that idas and asleep, it is a command to teach them to fill their bellies with good food and their hearts with songs and stories and their minds with knowledge to abate the fear of the unknown that has sent and that will send Nief away from them. This woman shudders in her sleep. Her nightmare is one of a mountain pass and a spirit, tall as craggy peaks, the echo of distant valleys. A harsh lesson not to shout under shelves of snow and ice whose echoes might collapse and come crashing down. The echoes of one's heart walk true and with care for one another, you will be wrong.

rewarded with hearth and home, betray or deal falsely, and the echoes will come for you. The woman shudders, and though she will do it from a place of fear of retribution. That's good enough for these kids who need better. Pato's going to pick up the mountain of Lepitapi and following the reverse path of Siva. I think, distribute the mittens evenly amongst the children. Kind of a somersaulting between the rooms and down the hallway.

Summersaulting down, each child will awake with the wonderful mittens awaiting them and treats and stories and crimscram downstairs and Pato, you and the Hoppens Alfie depart from the door outside

leaving that little bowl of coal and bird seed and salt waiting at the front door as the last hoppens off you in a single bound put some pine boughs and candles over that goddamn doorframe. Before he leaves Gallup

gives a soft feathery breathed kiss to mief on her forehead and plods along past the quiet dormitories much warmed with the joy and the hearth, and he thinks that perhaps that the cauldron father would be quite pleased with this, yes.

Far distant in a realm of spirits, a warm chuckle from one who stirs the cauldron for the great feasting day. Well done, Caleb, well done. And you feel for the first time, snow alights under your hooves calling you back home to the sky as you alight and fly over icy fields pado twirling in a storm of crumbs the hoppens all be returning to their secret stores of treats and goods ziva you feel yourself a light as well growing tall tall tall as distant mountains call to you circling overhead A storm of buzzards and riding a massive eagle. You see a with coal around her eyes, like a raccoon's mask and wild hair, Zeriga calls out and says,

The next day comes and the joy and laughter of children wake up the sweating governess who wipes her brow. She spends a harried morning, wondering where the tutor is, wondering where the door went, wondering why the painting is different, as the children's call out and say, Alf Gopin was here,

Alf Gopin was here, the one motherfucker that wasn't here. God damn him. God damn it. You got full credit, too. You got full credit. You got to give it up, you know. You got to give it up. He's the OG.

He got to give it up. You got to give it up. And you see a kitchen laid out with a feast, the children with their lepitepee running throughout. and you see a confused and baffled Neif walking down the hall with her mittens looking around and you see that as she gets down to the floor the children look out and they go Neith, Neif, did you do this?

And you see Neif looks out and they say, we need your page! And for the first time she has beckoned to come and add her page with which they cannot tell this story. Neef, you got to teach us that song you've been singing. You gotta teach us this song because Zerga's gonna come. And you see the governess looks out, not really believing herself, but she goes, all right, all right. Children, listen, listen to me, listen. This is a, we are very put upon.

There are not resources here at Sigruns Gjolfi Children's Home. So I wouldn't anticipate a witch to just show up at our front door. Knocking an empty door frame and injuries. witch of the wind and stars. I love it here. Stands at the doorway saying, Happy Alf Goppen's day to you all.