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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius. I am delighted to introduce our newest narrator, Cordelayne Valkaris,

who is bringing us a wonderful story from Trenyc, entitled

The Grim Sisters’ Found Letter: a Warning, Transcribed.
Background music is “Restless Soul” by Smartsound

The Grim Sisters’ Found Letter: A Warning, Transcribed

It bears no name and no title. Its canvas is black and liquid, as though soaked in oil and tar, with foreign symbols writ in dim, luminescent silver. The smudging of the words tends toward the bottom of the page, as though the shapes themselves cry in agony. These qualities are unimportant. You will know it if you find it; you will feel the darkness reaching into you.

Tal sharak. The Shadows will not live much longer. I come from a place called Merdia, a land far removed from your own. I am sorry, reader, if you have the wit to read these words. If your people can know evil, I have done you a great wrong.

You will know it if you find it, reader. You will know because it has found you. The feeling is unmistakeable. It is lust, fear, anger, hatred. It is all that is evil in every world, removed but palpable, as though you stand before the most vile creature ever made in any place. As though you belong to it. When you feel this, you will want to die.

Know, reader, that it cannot be destroyed. As we burn it, it is born again somewhere new. Nine men lost their lives attempting to destroy it by tearing, piercing, slashing, pounding. Do not try these, reader. If you find it, run.

Do not approach it. Do not touch it. Most of all do not attempt to read it. You will not recognize the symbols thereupon writ; nevertheless I compel you: do not read it. When you feel its claws digging at your mind, do all you can to shut those thoughts off from all that you know and do. It will rail against you. It will flay at your soul and burn its brand into every part of your mind. Even so, you must try in every way your strength allows to remember this only and above the corruption: that you must not read the page. All that you love depends on it.

I am sorry, reader. This act will weigh on my soul eternally. The Shadows are dying now. I pray this letter falls to a world uninhabited, where it can threaten no one. If you find this, make it known. Your people must know […]
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END OF TRANSCRIPT

The original copy of this message is written on a fine canvas page, ripped across at the bottom with a purple tint and burn marks along the line, and its letters are sloppy and hastily written. Most peculiar of the note’s properties is that the canvas is elaborately made and quite delicate while the ink is clumpy and a very dark, almost black, red–the blood of a Necromancer, the Grim Sisters say. To date all attempts to validate that claim, or even the claim that the ink is blood at all, have failed, as have professional attempts out of Brittany and Aerie to determine the origin or maker of either the canvas or the ink.

Some rumors suggest that the Sisters simply made it all up to sell copies. Of course the two maintain a certain ignorance of the letter’s origin, though they have never told where or how they acquired the letter. Only one thing about it is known: that nothing about it is known, except maybe by the Crones. And they simply will not say.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another instalment in the thrilling tale “Rise of the Ravegers”, by Lendrick.

Background music is “Testing the Waters” by Smartsound

CHAPTER THREE BREAKFAST BLUES
Secluded Cave, Serpents Spine Mountains, overlooking Lake Equitas. Two Weeks Later… Glyndrel glanced up, the rain appeared to be stopping. Looking out of their makeshift shelter, Alexyius was sound asleep, and the rain had stopped the constant downpour to become a soft drizzle. Unfortunately, that just mirrored the sour mood Glyndrel was already in, and what he wouldn’t give for some sunshine to brighten his spirits. They had been on the road for several weeks now, following Slyphania south, moving through the Ogre Lands and into the human realms. This made Glyndrel very nervous, and it was officially now the farthest he had ever ventured from his forest home. They were almost out of food though, and would need to go on another hunt soon or starve. Glyndrel’s thoughts invariably always turned back to Slyphania and the events surrounding her departure. The slap had definitely confirmed Glyndrel’s suspicions that some dark force was at work behind the scenes. Although he never really got to know her before the book began its dark influence, Glyndrel just sensed that the carefree young girl he had first met in the market would not be someone prone to violence had someone hidden a book on them. Well, a normal book, the one in question was definitely not normal. Glyndrel almost could sense an evil presence about the tome, much like if it were somehow alive or possibly sentient. Glyndrel had heard folk tales about items that possessed a malevolence that could warp minds, and if that were the case here, separating her from the book would be much harder than first anticipated. However, to really save her, it would be something that must be done. Alexyius began to stir, so Glyndrel started to prepare a meal, fried back, the last pieces from a wild tundra boar they slew and three quail eggs that were pilfered from the nest. At the smell of cooking, Alexyius came fully awake and sat up on his elbows. “How long was I out?” Alexyius asked. “Better part of the night, the rain looks like it’s easing up”. Glyndrel replied, pushing the food around in a tin cook pot, the meat sizzling and letting out a fresh aroma that made them both sigh and drool threatened to escape their mouths. Standing up and stretching, Alexyius walked to the darkened rear of the cave and relieved himself. Whilst he was doing that, he spoke over his shoulder. “So, what’s the plan for today?’ “Well, we should reach Brittany within the day, I guess once we get there, we find what those humans call an “Inn” and stay the night there, it would beat sleeping on the hard rock. Then, once rested, we start enquires about Slyphania’s whereabouts”. Glyndrel said. Alexyius sighed and then put on a pensive look, as if he were about to repeat something that he had grown tired of saying. “Glyn, have you considered the possibility that she doesn’t want to be found? That she won’t appreciate or acknowledge the fact that for the past two weeks you have been dogging her movements?” Glyndrel gave Alexyius a sour look, as If the reply he was about to give was something he was tired of saying. “You know my feelings, Alex, I don’t have a choice. I must find her. Not only am I obviously concerned for her wellbeing, and promised her parents I would do everything in my power to bring her back safely, but my gut is telling me she is up to something. Something dire. And as it stands, we two are the only ones in the know and may have a chance of reaching her and preventing whatever it is that she is planning’. “And what if she isn’t planning anything? What if, she just wanted to get away, to have her life take a different path to yours and that she isn’t interested or feels the same way you do!?” Alexyius countered. “I don’t believe that, she’s in trouble, her mind clouded and she is not herself. She needs help, even if she doesn’t realise it herself”. Saying this, Glyndrels hand instinctively moved to cup the cheek she slapped, almost as if he could still feel the sting. “Glyndrel, you’re like a brother to me, which is why I am going to tell you this straight” Alexyius continued, accepting a plate of breakfast and sitting cross legged opposite Glyndrel. “As it stands, she is with this human Wizard, Rannick somebody.” Alexyius took a mouthful of bacon and chewed as he spoke. “Who is teaching her to be, I don’t know, a sorceress or something. This book she is obsessed over, must be some kind of spell book or some such, which she is therefore studying and learning the wizardry craft from.” Alexyius finished chewing and swallowed. Glyndrel just sat there, a forlorn expression on his face, picking at his food, but not interrupting and letting his friend say his piece. “So, for all intents and purposes, she has left with him to further her studies, the there is no danger to her and no nefarious reason for her to run off, hence why she would not care for you coming after her” Alexius finished, hoping his words had mollified Glyndrel. Instead, Glyndrel glared at his friend defiantly. “I am telling you, something is not right, I know I told you that I love her, and I do, but that is not the only reason for me going after her. It’s that book. It’s not just any normal book, spell book or otherwise. You weren’t there, in her room with the book. It was just me, and the book. It was then I knew without a doubt, that it was evil. Evil personified, I could almost taste it, like sulphur in the air, I choked back my saliva and stared at the book, and it felt like it was staring back at me. Into my soul, and I felt scared. Not just for Slyphania, but for the world, for all of the Novian Island. Wherever this book came from, it should never have been found. I can’t change that now though, she has it with her. You should have seen the expression on her when I had moved the book. It went beyond obsession into something indescribable – it was like she was possessed, maybe she is, maybe that’s what the book’s done to her. Either way, all I know is that I have to help her, no matter what. But to do that, we need to catch up with her and somehow get her, firstly away from this human’s influence, and then the book.” Glyndrel stopped, stood up and stretched, walking to the cave entrance and looking out over the green fields of Paladis Plains, farmland outside Brittany, the sun sparkling off the lake Equitas like diamonds. Diamonds like “Diamond falls”, back home in the forest, which only made Glyndrel all the more depressed. Far into the distance, Glyndrel could see the spires of Lord British’s Castle, in the city of Brittany, the majestic walls of the castle and the sheer magnitude of its parapets. Leaning against the cool stone, Glyndrel looked out and felt hot tears streaming down. Alexyius came up behind him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What say we do catch up with her, that you do manage to convince her about the wizard and the book? And then, after all that, she still decides to continue on her path and ignore your warning?” Alexius spoke softly into Glyndrel’s shoulder. “What, after all that, given that you tell me that you love her, will you be able to just let it go? Let her go?” Alexius added. “If we do catch up with her and can’t help her?” Glyndrel replied, wiping the tears from his face and turning to face his friend. ‘Then let the great wood spirit save us. And save the World, for the Great Tree help us all!” Glyndrel proclaimed and walked off. Alexyius watched his friend walk away to start packing up their camp and then it struck him. Was he frightened that they would actually find Slyphania? Or that he would lose Glyndrel? This scared Alexyius. Scared him a lot. TO BE CONTINUED>

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a truly chilling story, written and narrated by Womby. It is entitled

Seven Days

Assisting in the podcast I am also delighted to welcome Doctor Shroud as the guard captain, and Solstar as the guard.
Background music is “No More Regrets” by Smartsound.

Father:
Day 1
I’m keeping this journal because if I don’t write things down I think I’ll lose my mind.
We could have run. We could have gathered the children and a few of our belongings and fled south.
Ingrid, our eldest, wanted to leave with her boyfriend, but I wouldn’t allow it. I hope I did the right thing. Instead we chose to hide in our winter storage cellar. After closing the access hatch, our neighbour Avrok covered it with a large cupboard, so it is now completely hidden. He has no children and is no longer young, so we all agree he should be safe from harvesting. We are relying on him to let us out when the soldiers move on.

Day 2
We hear movement upstairs. The soldiers have set up headquarters in our home. We have plenty of food, but will run out of water within a few days.
We have a pickaxe and a couple of buckets, so we decided to make a tunnel. If we can intersect with the well in the square outside, we will have unlimited access to water. We can only dig at certain times of the day when our sounds are covered by the screams coming from above. We may not succeed, but at least it gives us hope, and is infinitely better than the impotence of sitting here in silence. Best of all, the children have perked up, as they have something to occupy them.

This afternoon we heard a commotion. Ingrid recognised the voice of her boyfriend amongst a group of prisoners that had been dragged into the square. Then we heard screams, and I had to physically restrain her. I can only imagine what happened to them.

Day 3
My heart leapt into my mouth as I recognised the voice of Avrok. I could hear him being dragged into the headquarters above, and he clearly sounded distressed. The head of the guard kept demanding to know where we were, and Avrok denied any knowledge. Despite being told he could spare his life by giving us up, he refused to answer. His execution was sudden and perfunctory, and the horror of hearing his body hit the floor was prolonged by the sound of it being dragged outside.

Day 4
We have made good progress with the tunnel, but still have not reached the well. Are we heading in the right direction? I am trying to hide my disappointment, but I can see in her face that Emma shares my concern. Keeping our children’s spirits up is proving difficult, and the need for total silence is taking its toll.

Day 5
Ingrid has developed a loud cough. We have hidden her in the tunnel and covered the entrance with dirt-filled sacks. Unfortunately we’ll have to stop digging until she gets better. Still, it seems to be working, as we can no longer hear her cough.

Day 6
I feel sick. She’s dead. Ingrid is dead! Everything is spiralling out of control. I can’t write.

Eventually I plucked up the courage to tell Emma.
I don’t know how she found the strength, but she was able to keep the youngest two distracted while I removed Ingrid’s body.
She had slashed her wrists. When I moved her, I found that she had left a note:

Don’t stop digging.
I love you.
Ingrid

I hid her under some firewood, with what little dignity I could manage.

Day 7
Finally some good news. We have reached the well. Fortunately we have enough rope to reach the water below, and have started filling up barrels.
Since Avrok’s death we have no way out, so we have started another tunnel that should take us to the nearby wheat field. Hopefully we can reach it before harvest time.

Guard Captain:
What’s this, soldier?

Guard:
Just some scribbled notes, Captain. I found them in that hidden tunnel we discovered under the storage cellar. They were with that last group we sent off for transformation.

Guard Captain:
Add it to the weekly report. The mages collect all that stuff. I guess it gives them something to do when they’re not transforming children into elves.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius. I am delighted to once again welcome Sharm to the microphone;

she will be bringing us a wonderful story by enderandrew, entitled

A DarkStarr is Born.

Someday the truth regarding the rise of the Dark Lord of Chaos may be revealed. Until then we have myth and legend, handed down through the mists of time. This is one such legend…”

There is a very old story, all but forgotten. They say at least half of it is true. Knowing the man, that seems about right.

An offworlder strolls into town, jaunty and unafraid. He claimed to have visited more than one world in his time, and perhaps this one before but he wasn’t sure. These lands were familiar he mused, but a husk of what he remembered. His supposed command of magic (if not a ruse to woo the ladies) was gone, but in truth magic was all but lost to most of this world.

He claimed to have seen something on his way into this world, treasures from the heavens falling to the earth. People laughed at his tales until he reached into a pouch and produced gems unlike any they had seen before. He wanted to hire every available caravan in town to procure these riches.

But the rogue that he was, he sent each caravan in a different direction while he stole away in the night with but a single merchant vessel into the open sea. By sending everyone else away with any ability to carry cargo, he ensured that none could follow him or compete for his prize. He needed but a single crew and he promised them each they’d all be rich.

Though he didn’t have sea legs, he knew how to use a sextant and read charts of the stars like an experienced sailor. There were few lines on his face, but he spoke with wisdom and secrets of many lives over. He taught them to put lime in their grog and the most vulgar sea shanties that they ever had heard. Just hours previously he had merely been a paying customer commandeering a ride, but soon enough the crew was in the palm of his hand. They called him Flynn, but I doubt that was ever his name for more than a week.

All he brought aboard the ship was a single chest. Flynn opened it and pulled out a device unlike one the crew had ever seen before. It had interconnected rings and orbs, one looking like a sun. He consulted with the device in a manner no man could devise and then directed them where to sail.

They reached landfall on a mostly deserted coast where he had led them and rode inland but a few miles on mules. There it was said man laid eyes on the first Shardfall. How he knew where it would be, he would not say.

This leader of theirs spoke of danger, and the men heeded his words for they saw and felt things that they had never before. He approached alone with a small pick in hand, dropping from his mule in dramatic fashion just as lighting raced across the sky. It was almost as if he planned it. He swung his pick a few times to remove a piece, and while it moved a bit and almost seemed like it wanted to come out of its own volition, he could not quite find adequate purchase to loose it fully from the earth.

Sticking one end of the pick at the edge, and stepping on the other end of the pick to provide leverage, he could feel it was close as it began to wriggle free. He reached down with his hand to finish the task when they all felt a blast knocking them off their feet.

The shard shattered sending pieces jutting into his outstretched hand. Flynn reached to cover the wound with his other hand, but as he touched it further the world seemed to shake. He saw double and triple vision. But it wasn’t quite that.

He saw ghosts, copies of this spot both past and future. As his crew looked to each other and him in terror and confusion, he began to see different possibilities unfold around him. Each was like a different world and a different life. He saw different paths each of these men might take with the slightest push or guidance in varying ways.

And he saw far, far more than that. He heard a silent song of Daedalus. He saw how cataclysmic fire cleansed this land and how yet another storm on the horizon might wipe it clean once more.

While most of these men were scared, one knew there was something not quite right with the leader of this expedition. He decided to be an opportunist, lunging with his sword into the back of Flynn. But his sword caught only the flapping of his coat. Flynn, blind to the attack had somehow seen it coming and stepped to the side just in time. The assailant tripped over an outcropping of these shards and fell on his own blade.

While most men might be shaken if they brushed with death so closely, Flynn turned calmly to face his crew.

“I am not surprised he sought to increase his share by reducing our numbers, but you would do well to listen to me now. There is treasure greater even than these shards, and a prize greater than you can imagine.” Flynn smiled broadly. “We have work to do.”

Awakened, many of the shards began to free themselves from the ground and hover miraculously in the air.

Flynn held out his hand. To their surprise, there was no blood, nor any type of wound that they could tell. But 4 thin shards had crossed each other in his palm and were now firmly under his skin, forming two-overlapping crosses. They pointed in 8 different directions at once. That symbol is known to many today who do not follow a singular direction, but rather the course of Chaos.

From him, some claim magic was reborn or perhaps rediscovered. Some trace Chaos magic at least to this unlikely progenitor. Rumor has it, they strapped large floating shards to the ship and sailed off into the air. But I know aggrandizement when I hear it.

Thus the legend of Darkstarr was born. He travelled the land, weaving in and out, bending both peasants and Lords to his whim, but never merely for obvious power and wealth. No one knew what he was getting at, or what his endgame might be. Some say he vanished, more myth than man. Others say he only existed in the voices of bards trying new material, sick of typical heroic tales.

Equally impossible to all of these claims is that while these things happened ages ago, I’ve met this man who ages but a breath each year it would seem. And while I am usually the one telling tales to others, and hoping to help people on their path, he sought to advise me. He whispered in my ear an impossible secret, so terrifying and magical that I knew it instantly to be true.

— Arabella

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius. We have had yet another narrator join our team, and I am delighted to introduce Sharm, who is bringing us a wonderful story by enderandrew, entitled

The History of Rift’s End

The History of Rift’s End
By Joorus the Scribe

History is an odd subject when so much is erased and so frequently. We live in a world where ruins sit atop older ruins. Bob the Wizard writes about this topic in his tome, “The Knowledge Cataclysm”.

Rift’s End is a small holdfast, easily overlooked and barely mentioned in most texts. It was most difficult to find academic texts on the history of the city. But I met a bard named Zoe Marie who shared with me an oral history. I cannot speak of the veracity of the tale, but I shall preserve it in written form for posterity nonetheless.

Rift’s End predates The Fall, though it had an earlier name lost to time and it was a larger city then. The nearby Lunar Rift made it a convenient destination for travel and trade. There was something else about the city, intangible and elusive. People felt drawn there by mysterious forces. Once there, people often described a sensation of being home, even if their actual home were quite far away. What was particularly peculiar about this phenomenon is that people of all walks of life described the same experience. If the town did in fact draw people in, it certainly attracted a wide range.

They say, however, that Avatars felt the draw strongest of all. And while many ancient texts speak of venerating Avatars, Zoe’s story claims Avatars were as controversial then as Outlanders are today. One particular Avatar, Gwenevere, was repeatedly drawn to Rift’s End, though she never lost sight of her original home on another world. She was desperate to find a way home. Maybe she truly loved the land of her birth. Perhaps she knew what was soon to happen in this one. The portal near Rift’s End was how she initially entered this world and she felt it was key to returning.

She heard tales of a powerful wizard named Ryari, a foremost expert on rifts and how they worked. She brought her spoils from adventuring and laid them before him. As a powerful wizard, he did not want for gold. His time and services were in high demand. Gwenevere begged for his help. Her passion caught his attention. He explained that the rifts were powered by the moons above. Most of the time they allowed travel between fixed points to other rifts. But travel to other worlds had to be fueled by something more.

Either the destination pulled you in with energy and forces of its own, or the strongest desires of your heart sent you where you wanted to go. He said for Gwenevere to return home, she would need to tell him everything of that world. She would have to channel her love of home with specific visions. Little did she know the effect her stories would have on Ryari. She spoke of a world without monsters, without magic but advanced technology. Ryari wondered how easy it might be for a powerful wizard to rule a world where no one else had magic, or at the very least the additional power he would have here if he could bring back advanced technology.

They prepared for months. She wrote all of her memories of home and began distilling them into the most powerful energies. She would recite these stories while focusing energy into 8 stones. Once they were charged and fully attuned to her thoughts and memories of the world she left behind, they traveled to the lunar rift just outside Rift’s End.

Inside the 8 larger stone formations of the lunar rift, Ryari arranged the 8 small stones in a circle around Gwenevere. She recited her stories and opened her heart to the possibility of seeing home once more. He channeled all of his magical energy into her, enabling her to feed even more into the stones.

The magic worked, and Gwenevere could see a portal opening. She could see her home through the portal. She felt herself being drawn back.

Ryari shouted an incantation Gwenevere did not understand. Reagents disappeared from his hand in a puff of icy-colored smoke and shot like a bolt into Gwenevere’s body. She was frozen in place and unable to enter the portal. She could see the avarice and malice in Ryari’s eyes as he made his way to the opening.

It wasn’t just the spell; she felt paralyzed in fear. The thought of a deceitful wizard descending on her world terrified her. Did her selfish desire to return home blind her to what she enabled? Unable to move, she would be helpless to stop him. But she remembered what he told her of focused energy and desire.

She wiped the thought of home from her mind. She burned with rage and thought of the hottest fire she had seen in this world, the molten lava near Blackblade Pass. The icy spell holding her in place began to melt. She could not walk, nor run. She dove forward, falling short of Ryari, but within the reach of the small stones at her feet. When her white-hot rage made contact, a giant portal larger than any rift she had ever seen before appeared.

Lava from the Blackblade Pass poured into the circle, enveloping them both. The blast tore the circle apart, destroying the rift for all time.

Now, some prefer a happier version where Gwenevere made it home before the lava overtook her. But mystics and sages who’ve passed through claim they can feel her spirit trapped on this side. She gave up her life to save her home, the site of her sacrifice becoming Rift’s End.

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