The scroll opens easily enough. Its contents are quickly revealed to be a letter written in the Ignan dialect of Primordial.

Flicker,

I trust this missive finds you well, it is good to hear from you again. You asked that I delve into the nature and designs of the night hag Nanna May Midnight and the curious gifts she bestowed upon your party. After many long watches by candle and lantern in my quiet hermitage, I submit the fruits of my labors.

Nanna May Midnight and the Soul Trade:
Nanna May has earned a notorious reputation throughout the Lower Planes as a broker of souls. Her cruelty is matched only by her cunning, for she derives delight from perverting the very virtues of those she ensnares—turning mercy into wrath, temperance to gluttony, hope into despair. Beware, then, that any spark of goodness she touches may slowly twist into its darkest opposite.

Abandoned Towers and False Rewards:
She presides over a scattered network of desolate spires—much like the ruined tower you and your companions cleansed—each serving as a silent stronghold for the tiny, fanatical cults she cultivates. When valiant adventurers like yourselves shatter these fledgling sects, she appears—ever gracious—and pours forth lavish gifts, seeds of overreliance sown with a smile. Yet know this: such generosity is no kindness, but the first whispered promise that will bind you ever tighter to her will.

Her Coven and Allies:
Nanna May does not toil alone. She communes in secret with two sister hags: a bheur hag of the frozen Northlands, whose breath chills the heart, and an annis hag lurking near the canals of Acquascura, whose malice flows as swiftly as the city’s tide. Alas, my inquiries into their schemes have only scratched the surface. We must remain vigilant, for this triumvirate is certain to weave darker plots yet unseen.

Your new trinkets and baubles, though beguiling, bear no immediate curse—rather, they may prove of genuine use in your travels. Yet take heed: it is precisely this perception of harmless utility that lures one deeper into dependency. Let not your comrades grow overfond of these gifts, lest the day come when Nanna May’s subtle strings compel you to dark deeds you would never otherwise countenance.

May the ancient stars guide your path, may your heart remain unbowed, and may the master of our world find amusement in your success.

In solitude and service,
Bharahem
Hermit of the Order of Di’Twinnis