The lady of that dark and desolate poultry farm to the west of Milltown is now at peace.
Bifrost must have sensed dark shadows gathering around the farmhouse. He asked adventurers to join him in a search and several gathered outside. I often enter the farmhouse, hurrying down to the cellar when I need access to my tunnels, but this time the atmosphere felt different. It was darker, more oppressive somehow. Something was sucking light from the house, and a dank mist rose as we checked the rooms. And then we heard a prolonged, piercing scream.
We dispersed to find the source of the sound, and down in the cellar I saw a figure in the corner. I called for others to come down, slowly and quietly not in a great rush. The only response from the woman’s figure when asked if we could help her was to once again let out that scream.
I’m not sure why, but for some reason I stepped slowly and softly toward her. I held one hand outstretched, in an offer of assistance. She in turn took a step toward me, holding out a hand as though in a mute plea for help. Our hands almost met – though I don’t know if I would have felt anything if they had – but at that moment the entire house above us began shaking, and she disappeared from our sight.
We returned up in to the house itself. There’s a rocking-chair in one room, and it was moving. We gathered around, weapons at the ready, trying to see what caused the chair to rock in a violent manner. Some malevolent spirit hurled itself from that chair and attacked us.
The shade was despatched, and again we looked around the house. The shaking had ceased. We entered the kitchen. The room, though dilapidated and disused, was full of the sights and smells of baking, and we could hear someone humming in a content manner as they went about their task. The atmosphere was that of a busy, happy household, the lady of the house going about her life in a carefree manner.
We had achieved something good that turn. After some talk we dispersed.

Later I sat in the Emerald Mooon with one of the guild cats on my lap. JJ stirred with a loud hiss and his hair stood up. I looked around for the source of what had alarmed him. At first I saw nothing – after all, cats are more sensitive to unhuman visitations than we are. I was able to soothe him as a feeling of relief and happiness bathed us. Looking around once more I saw a glow in the fire, and the air of the tavern was filled with joy and contentment, and the echo of someone humming a jolly tune. And the delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread.