Durvininth had brought one of his most prized treasures from his lair, the crystal ball of Endriphus the Dreamer, a focus of powerful divination, and the skull of one of his broken skeletal servants. Miles he had flown, careful not to drop either object, all the way to the cabin of the vile rot hag, the site where his friend of thirty-five years had been slain. Assuming humanoid form, still careful not to drop the delicate cargo in his massive claws as they shrank, he called out to the cabin's only occupant through a broken window.
"Jorba! It is I, Durvininth the Black, keeper of the Blackwyrm Mire and friend of Wicked Peggy Knucklebones! I request that we may jointly seek revenge for her untimely death. May I enter?"
A low chuckle echoed from within, and the door swung open. "Come in, for the enemy of my enemies is a most needed friend! Come in, that our wrath may be increased all the more with our union."
Hours later, the dragon and hag had determined that the teeth were beyond the power of the crystal orb, blocked perhaps by planar barriers or the utter destruction of the teeth. Determined, they scoured the filthy cottage for anything, no matter how small, left behind by the attackers. More hours later, through scent and diligence, a single singed hair was found clinging to the wall. The hair of a wolf, struck by lightning. It was the work of a moment to locate the wolf it belonged to, in the halls of a dwarven market. Following patiently, they watched and listened as four of the slayers grouped together and spoke of their progress and travel plans.
Now armed with the names and location of his prey, Durvininth took wing to the home of the coven's last live acquisition, Rose Tabard, to inquire about the other four present at the assault. Jorba remained at home, calling in favors from dark fey, digging up old servitors from their long incubation, and perhaps coaxing greater life into one of her "children" she'd stashed away…