Small Loom Area, Weaver's Workshop
Four smaller, hand-powered looms are set up in this rectangular room, two situated side-by-side at either end. This leaves ample space in the center of the room for the two rows of wooden boxes that are laid there, with room to spare for passage in between them. These boxes contain the extra-long yarns and threads that are used to weave cloth on the looms and each row is organized by color. The Weavers sit on stools that are placed by the warp beams of each loom, their backs to their neighbors on the opposite side of the room.

Much to Olivia's relief, she did not get a visit from everyone's, er, favorite evil-doer that day. In fact, the day went rather quietly after the turmoil of the morning. The night proved equally uneventful. No haunting dreams. No dreams of any sort, in fact. So, here Olivia sits in the Weaver's workshop the following day. It too seems to be a fairly typical day. All she has left to complete for the day are some special order design patterns for one of the town shops.

Olivia concentrates hard on the complicated series of raising and lowering the heddles of her loom to complete this complex pattern in the cloth. She's actually glad of the nature of this work because it forces her to think of something other than her upcoming visit from the necromancer. She steps on the next series of treadles, then skims the shuttle through the shed and tightens the newly-laid weft with the reed.

And on this continues for the next couple of hours. Various other members of the Weavers guild work on projects as well nearby. Right in the middle of one of the rows, Olivia hears a rasping whisper, "Olivia… " None of the Weavers around her seem to hear it.

Completely startled, the Skeek nearly jumps off her stool, causing the treadles she was once stepping on to release the heddles with a loud BANG! The two Weavers closest to her look at her accusingly, so she smiles weakly to them and mutters an apology. When they go back to their work, she looks around for the source of the whisper.

"Olivia… " the whisper comes again. The direction it's coming from isn't readily obvious, unfortunately.

Olivia quickly tightens the last weft she had laid with the reed, then does hop off her stool, saying something about needing a break to get a drink of water. She goes into the hallway beyond the weaving room and whispers to the air, "Where are you?"

Thankfully, no other Weaver hears Olivia apparently talking to herself. "Olivia… " the voice comes again, and this time she can tell exactly where it's coming from. Of course, it's probably not a place she wants to go: the chamber of Loom #4.

Olivia takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. This is it. Hope I'm ready… Then she points her steps to the general storeroom first, to get a set of the protective gear that all the Weavers wear when going anywhere near Loom #4. Once the bundle is in her hand, she walks over to the room that houses the Loom of Doom. Very cautiously, she opens the door.

Broadcloth Looms: Loom Number Four
Sirus "Lefty" Wingnut's greatest creation or perhaps his greatest mistake. The loom referred to as Loom Number Four was to be a revolution in broadcloth loom designs; a mechanized loom with automatic shuttle feeding, control over each individual thread going through distinct heddle segments which can be linked up through various control rods. The end result was one ominous looking, huge, machine. The wood and chitin that compose its structure have weathered to an eerie, non-reflective, black hue. Gears with sharp teeth line both sides that control the movements of each heddle and of the sliding action of the shuttle. And, a bar near the back of the loom is lined with a sharp chitin blade, intended to cut the cloth and threads cleanly when the desired size was made.

And … Olivia finds the room completely empty. Well, except for the gaping maw of the broadcloth loom sitting before her. And it looks, positively docile today.

Olivia goes inside and shuts the door behind her. After taking another look around, she says again to the empty air, "Where are you? I know this is where you wanted me to come but I can't see you… "

"Heh heh heh heh," comes the all to familiar cackle of the necromancer. It seems to come from all around Olivia. "Child, I am everywhere, and nowhere all at once… "

Olivia puts her bundle down, glancing all about with darting movements of her eyes. Okay, this is not good… "So does this mean you're not here physically?" she says. "I ask merely because you said you'd come in person the next time."

"I am here in person. I never said physically," the voice points out. "But, if you must have a form, so be it… " And the air grows colder. A pile of scrap cloth in the corner shifts and undulates slowly. Strips circle up lazily into the air, twisting in on each other, wrapping, contorting. The strange dance of fabric continues on for several minutes, until Olivia finds herself face-to-face with a grotesque caricature of a Skreek. It leers at her and it's mouth moves … but the voice still seems to come from everywhere, "Now, is this better?"

Olivia takes a quick step back from the moving bundle of scraps, shuddering. "Well… no," she says truthfully, "but it'll do."

The creature shambles towards Olivia. "Ah, do I frighten you, child?" it asks.

Olivia is brought up short by that. He's just taunting you, trying to scare you into doing whatever he wants, she thinks, making herself stand her ground now. "Why do you ask questions that you already know the answers to?" she growls.

"Amusement," the creature remarks absently and slides up, then behind Olivia. "Mortals are so much fun to taunt. You all dance so well. Now, do you have the information I seek?"

Olivia half-turns her head so that she can follow the figure's every movement. "I have news, but you may not wish to hear it," she replies, thinking rapidly, remembering Natasha's weakened condition and wondering how it would be best to stall the necromancer in his plans – if she can at all.

"Really, now? Presuming you know everything I wish to hear or not hear, interesting," the creature hisses, sounding rather annoyed about that, too. "Tell me all. I will decide on its importance."

Olivia nods. "Very well," she says, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment at being able to annoy a necromancer without being killed outright. "Amelia has led me to where Zahn is hidden, so I know how to get there now. The only problem is, he is well guarded. Not heavily guarded, but well guarded. There is a difference, I think." She turns all the way around to face the cloth creature. "Amelia guards him for as long as she can each day, and she is Stonebarrow's best fighter. His other caretaker is a witch."

"A half-wit and a crippled magic user that relies on local spirits for power. And you think these creatures will concern me?" the creature comments, its cloth 'eyes' narrowing. "Do you believe me so weak?"

Again, Olivia replies very honestly, "I don't know the full extent of what you're capable of, this is true. But neither do you know the full extent of what this witch is capable, either. And somehow, I think you would have been very angry with me if I had left that detail out." Then she lowers her head and asks meekly, "Was I wrong to think so?"

The cloth creature laughs, "And this is why you were chosen. You will make a marvelous slave in the future." The creature drifts around the room again. "In any event, the witch cannot be there all hours, every day. so, when does she go to rest?" he asks.

Olivia keeps a close watch on the figure as it drifts around. "I believe she arrives around noon each day and stays with Zahn until the early hours of the next morning. Then she can spend several hours at her home doing whatever chores need to be finished before going back to watch over him. He was beaten very, very badly," she adds softly, thinking of Amy's description of what happened to Zahn. "He's teetering on the brink of life and death, it seems, and she doesn't like to leave him for long."

"Oh, well, if he's that close to dying, I could just nudge him on through the dream plains, then," the creature muses and drifts idly. "Which is a pity, really. I do so prefer to look my sacrifices in the eye." Again, the creature drifts for a bit, then adds, "But, if you say she leaves early in the morning, well, then the timing is clear, isn't it. I just have to fetch my sacrifice before noon."

Olivia is glad that her trembling can just as easily be taken for fear of the necromancer's "presence" rather than her true, short-lived fear of having given him the power to kill Zahn in another way. "Yes. From what I was told, that will be the only time when the witch is not around."

As the creature moves around the room, Olivia notices something. He seems to be slowly unraveling. The creature, however, seems unaware of it at the moment. "Well, that shall prove useful. Tell me how to find the place you spoke of," it remarks, pausing to examine the loom.

Olivia looks only for a moment at the unraveling, wondering what it could mean. Did Axel really hurt him badly? she thinks. Could this be a sign of weakness, that he can't control his apparition? Aloud, she says, "There is a place near town called the Gnarly Tree. A small path runs just north of it. It goes through a lot of underbrush and wilderness, but it ends at a pair of doors set into stone. These doors lead to underground passages, and in one of those rooms underground is the Blacktail infirmary. That is where Zahn is being treated."

"Interesting," the creature comments and rubs its chin with its hand. Unfortunately, the arm of the creature disintegrates at this action. It snarls and its arm slowly rebuilds itself. "Ah, well, I will have to meet you at the woods edge, near the Gnarly Tree," the creature suddenly says, sounding hurried. "And, this disappoints me. It has no energy at all," it remarks and waves dismissively at the loom. "I was hoping it would be useful to me, but no, it's just a loom."

Olivia glances swiftly from the figure's unraveling arm to Loom #4. "It doesn't?" she asks, sounding surprised. "Well, that quenches a few theories. The Wingnuts always supposed that it was built of possessed wood, and seeks revenge against the clan who cut and carved it." Then she asks, "So at what time should I meet you by the Gnarly Tree, then? I suppose sometime early tomorrow morning, since it is already after noon today?"

The creature starts to unravel again. "Day after tomorrow," it snaps in a growl! "Now, leave me!"

Since the figure is so rapidly and obviously disintegrating before her eyes, Olivia cannot help but ask, "Wh-what is going on? You look like you're… coming apart? Are you sure this loom isn't possessed by something and it's eating away at your form?"

"Do not ask stupid questions! I am fine," the creature snarls and turns to face Olivia. He lurches forward towards her, its hands outstretched to grab her, face contorted in anger. And then, it simply falls apart into the strips of cloth it was born from. A faint puff of darkness wafts from it, then the room grows silent, leaving the Skeek alone.

Olivia waits in the silence of the room for a minute or two, the pounding of her heart the only thing she can hear. When it finally slows to normal, the Skeek kneels down and picks one of the now-limp scraps of cloth from the floor. Holding it up and examining it, she thinks, Not as fine as you'd like me to believe. How very interesting. Good job, Axel! Well done, Natasha!