The Crone
The day wears on…
The air grows more frigid, becoming a snowstorm. Soon the whirling blizzard has us lost. Seeing lights through the swirling snow, we hurry towards them. It is a small cottage, well-wrought of stone, its windows glowing with the light of a warm fire. Someone is home.
Knocking on the door, we are greeting by an old woman wearing rags. She shows us to a warm kitchen. Placing a cauldron over the fire, she brews us soup, chatting all the while. “You are not the first to come upon this house. Long ago, two children came knocking on my door — two great big children, healthy and hearty. I had hoped to cook their meat into a wonderful stew, but they escaped. I starved that winter...”
As the old woman says this, her face darkens. "But perhaps you do not know how it feels, to have something escape right from under your nose?” She waves her hands. We feel, as one, an odd sensation of loss and frustration, as the old woman’s magic consumes us.
The Challenge
The Crone forces you to experience something falling from your possession right beneath your nose.
Get hold of a stopwatch.
Every traveller stands up. On the count of three, each traveller turns their head upwards and places an Elder Card balanced on the tip of their nose.
Start the stopwatch.
Travellers must attempt to balance their card on their nose for as long as possible. If a traveller lets their card fall, they are eliminated.
When the last traveller lets their card fall, stop the stopwatch.
Success. If at least one traveller managed to keep their card up for one minute, the Challenge is passed.
Failure. If the travellers are all eliminated before one minute passes, the Challenge is failed.
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————If the Challenge is passed, the last traveller to be eliminated claims the Blessing of the Crone.
If the Challenge is failed, all travellers suffer the Curse of the Crone. Take this spirit's card and place it in a designated area on the table so everyone can see it. If this is the party's third Curse, click here.
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For a moment, we are overwhelmed by the crone’s own memories: of loss, of rage, of despair. Then the feeling is gone, and so is the old woman before us. We sit in a ruined cottage as the snowstorm rages on outside. We will make camp here tonight.
Re-form the deck before continuing.
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