“What do you mean ‘All six of them are dead’?!”
The voice is so screeching and vitriolic, that the lower status Witch doesn’t dare look up, let alone make eye contact or reply to the screamed question. To end the expanding silence, Megarna answers the hanging question herself.
“So, of the eight Assassins we’ve sent to spy on or murder the adventurers, seven have been killed and the other one captured? When I first encountered these adventurers at the Scarborough fete, half a year ago, I dismissed them as mere, short-lived, thrill-seeking idiots, but they’ve proven to be much more tenacious and durable than I’d initially assessed them to be.”
The recently recruited, and still qualling, young Witch nods in agreement as her Coven leader continues talking, mostly it seems, just to hear the sound of her own voice.
“We shall have to find more foolish and violent men to do our bidding. Evil men but skilled in the art of murder. Send out six of our Sisters to find and recruit as many as you can of our old Assassins. They’ll be mostly old men now, but their sons and grandsons will serve us well enough.”
Finally recovering her ability to speak, the twenty-something Witch mumbles her agreement.
“Yes my Crone Mother. I shall see that it’s done but that will only leave seven of us to stymie the efforts of the adventurers.”
The elderly Megarna smiles, revealing her creepily long, yellowed teeth and hands the novice Witch her enchanted besom.
“Seven of us verses seven of them? Equal numbers, but with the Hag Queen and the Demon Prince on our side, that shall more than suffice.”
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