Hags

You have heard of wise old women hidden far and wide. Some near the coast, some near wintery mountains. Others in the very pits of hell itself, and, of course, a nice old lady hidden out in the forest.

Hags are a concept born out of the feywild. While goblins are the very manifestation of creativity and hobgoblins of a hierarchical system of respect, hags are born out of the fear and imagination of people watching old ladies weaving at their doorsteps. Together, weaving tales and rugs. But weaving is a trade of mages. They could all be mages. Hidden in plain sight.

Thus, stories come to life and take form. Thus, hags are born. And thus, they have access to magic that walks between the shadows of dreams and light of nightmares. Unpredictable, capable of great things for very little and little things at a great cost.

Some can be trusted with your life. Others will snuff it out like one would smash an ant.

For just as tales are varied, so are the people who inspired them.

From Alex's post because it is so well written.

BugSaw cracks his knuckles, but it's not words that appear. It's faces.

First a goblin, orange-skinned and long-eared with the word "creativity" hover.

Then a hobgoblin, soldierly visage under the word "hierarchies".

Then the Kuo-Toa's slain god. "Faith".

And last, Magda. "Fear of Old Magic."
His hands begin to weave words in the air.

Belief, stories, have power. Concepts can take form. We saw that there. Goblins and hobgoblins have similar origins. Concepts made flesh in the Feywild. Magda is an hag. And their existence is Katya's fault. Kind of.

BugSaw rolls his fingers, the knuckles creaking a little. He looks up at the sky, then nods and points at his own discarded sewing.

Imagine seeing an old woman at the spinning wheel on her porch. Imagine seeing her getting older every day. Katya is the goddess of weaving and old age -

He pauses, looking for the words.

Makes people uncomfortable. A reminder of time, death. So we make up stories. What if that old woman is a hidden mage? What if they all are? More palatable. And in the feywild, those stories took shape. Hags.
They are not evil. Not per se. But their mentality is of the fey. Alien. They are the underside of a tapestry, creatures of knots and bonds. And gratitude, a thank you, can be seen as an admission of service. An imbalance. A promise to repay a perceived debt.

You don't want to be indebted to an hag.

From Ravik

Ravik scratches his head. He feels stupid. He knows of hags. He was told of them from a young age, sitting on his mother's knee with a group of women, some painting, some writing, some telling the stories of old. So he knows of the myths that surround them. Of their origin.

How he had not connected that knowledge with his experience in the shop?

But he is glad of the explanation which gives the tales of his mothers a more spiritual context.

"Thank you." He says. "In my family we tell stories and sing about hags. About the deep green forest where people disappear. Like the song that was written on Magda's wall. We are not taught the spirituality of it."

Night Hags

Night hags are strange by their tie to the Lower Planes. They have no home in the feywild, where they are born and nearly immediately shunted from. Like green hags are the manifestation of stories that warn of recluse old mages in the forest, night hags are born from a mixture of tales that fused over years.

Among other hags, they might be seen as a little tasteless. Too indulgent in their evildoing. Not enough careful, ironic pain inflicted. They are all disgusting from a mortal perspective, yes, but for a Hag there is a difference. Though when making deals and handling business, hags will always prefer a third party be present.