Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a couple of great short stories written by Womby. Musical background “No More Magic”, by HorrorPen, at www.opengameart.org.
Slowly, ever so carefully, Feldring secured the final gem in place. The ornate cloak had taken several months to craft, and represented the culmination of his skills in textiles, tailoring and alchemy.
All that remained was the final step. Once completed, the cloak would cause its wearer to age rapidly, proving fatal within the hour. After two hours, all that remained would be an easily disposed of skeleton.
Feldring summoned all the skills resulting from many years of alchemy and completed the cloak.
Tomorrow he would present it to his wife for her fiftieth birthday, and the day after he would be able to invite the attractive wench he had secretly been seeing to take her place.
He had lost a lot of sleep working on this project and now, overcome with exhaustion, he collapsed onto the makeshift cot in his workshop and fell into a deep sleep.
Shortly after, his wife Portia tapped on his door to inquire if she could bring him some food. Hearing no reply she tiptoed in and saw him lying unconscious on his cot.
“Poor dear” she thought, “he works so hard.” The window had been blown open by the wind, making the room bitterly cold.
With loving care Portia laid the newly completed cloak over Feldrings sleeping body, and quietly tiptoed out.
The Perfect Crime
It should have been the perfect crime.
An informant had told Gratnor that Sir Ewan Masterton had the most impressive collection of gemstones in the entire Vale.
He also told Gratnor that Sir Ewan spent every Friday evening in the Hearth Inn after sending his only servant on a weekly supply trip to Owl’s Head. His Knight Marshall tower keep should therefore have been unoccupied.
The entry was ingenious. The powerful stealth potion had been obscenely expensive, but Gratnor considered it a worthwhile investment as he managed to slip inside unnoticed when Sir Ewan left for the evening.
Once inside, he headed straight for the hidden room that would surely be the place where valuables were kept.
Entering the room proved no obstacle for someone who had spent many years honing his skills as a thief. Surprisingly however the room was empty, save for a trapdoor that apparently led to a basement of some kind.
Cautiously Gratnor descended the ladder into the basement. Not wishing to alert any person or creature he might encounter, he felt his way along the wall in the dark.
After several twists and turns Gratnor came up against what felt like iron bars. A loud clanging sound behind him caused him to freeze in his tracks, and he suddenly found himself locked in a cage on the edge of a large room, as various people in robes lit torches.
In the centre of the room was a large altar.
As one of the people in robes approached his cage he recognised the face of his informant, who smiled at him, then turned to his colleagues and said “It is time. The sacrifice has arrived.”
And because we are continually growing there are things you can do to help us out that are quick and easy but will save us a lot of time and allow us to be better at what we do! So if you think about it, are willing, or can take a minute now and then to lend a hand here are some things that we love to see more of!
- If you are a writer – fiction, poetry, songs, anything – PLEASE send us your work. Email Stile@thecaverns.net saying “Here’s my new piece, you have permission to podcast it”. I spend tens of hours finding writings and contacting authors to ask for permission. If you send us your work the 2 minutes you spend would save us hours!
- If you are aware of a forum thread that has something in it that may be news worthy, shoot me a link! Email me, PM me, send it via contact form, facebook me – OR just put it in our new Shoutout! Shout out! – Echoes from the Cavern
- Interested in doing voice acting? We keep a list and check it.. a lot! Each time we have a new project that needs voice actors it is our go-to. Let us know if you want to be on it.. The larger our list the less time we have to spend trying to recruit people.
- Have something YOU want to record or are recording? An advertisement? Your own fan fiction? We will podcast your mp3 for you and Avatars Radio would have the option of playing it also. We are willing to help podcast your work, not just our own.
This is one of the best communities I have ever worked with and for that reason we want to help! By you initiating contact we are able to do that more efficiently and faster so please.. don’t hesitate to bug us!
The pod-casting is growing all the time over here at Echoes from the Caverns and here are some of the more recent spotlights!
- Lord Baldrith is now doing the weekly news cast talk show style with Asclepius.
- We have added the format that includes guests to the show.
- We are doing a HUGE piece that’s been being worked on for a couple of months that is starting to see some light at the end of the tunnel to being completed, using multiple voice actors. We are talking about many other pieces like that to do in the future.
- With the Scribe council being formed more and more authors are putting out work and letting us podcast them.
- Asclepius is now also doing solo fan-fiction pieces, narration, and editing.er.. and posting! and even some website updates for me.
- much, much more!
As always, thank you! You have made us what we are!
Join Lord Baldrith and Asclepius on 8/22/14 by listening to their news cast podcast at Echoes from the Caverns! Recording usually takes place at about 8pm EST, followed by editing and posting. So the podcast is usually up around 11pm-midnight (eastern).
Be sure to get in on this one!!! The team will be having a howling good time interviewing special guest Espada. With it being R9 release weekend and PvP taking place, who better then the winner of the Bear Tavern Brawl from R8?
Transform the way you get the news and listen to us with the moon is high and the wolves are howling! Echoes from the Caverns, your weekly premier Newscasting – which is legit because it’s on Itunes!
Hello everyone, Asclepius here, with a great story by Baron Drocis Fondorlatos, entitled “Notes on my Travels to Kingsport”. Background music is “Requiem for your Soul”, by Smartsound.
Beneath all humanity stirs an undercurrent of hopelessness and despair. Knowing that we are all connected in some way is little comfort to the reality that perhaps the greatest connection we share is the fact that one day we will all die. If not here in New Britannia then back in our own world, for even an Avatar’s immortality is limited.
Kingsport is no different. Beyond the troubled townsfolk who work and trade on the surface of this peaceful village by the sea, there are cursed remains from the past that walk the darkened halls of the sewers below. It is here that I first witnessed the reanimated shells of the living in the form of skeletal guardsman. An axe for one, a sword for another, these once men attacked me as soon as I was within range. Most of my spells were of no consequence and I quickly learned that fire was one of the only ways to defend myself from their relentless onslaught.
In the end, I lay near death and two piles of smoldering bones. But I survived with the strength to investigate the cursed wrecks. Both were unrecognizable from one another, dripping with caramelized ashen bone, and their weapons appeared to be of low quality. Perhaps these were the spoils of others that had been foolish enough to enter the sewers alone. But one pile contained a different substance I had not seen before. Filmy and sticky to the touch, this black grey compound had the consistency of jam and the smell of dung. I collected what I could for further study, and found that as I did the substance began to naturally form into a ball. The rest I reluctantly wiped off on my robes.
Sensing I was not strong enough to continue further into the sewers on my own, I retreated back to the naïve surface of Kingsport with many questions still left unanswered. Who created these dark souls? What were they guarding? Why Kingsport? And more importantly, how do I get this sticky black grey dung off my robes
Like many buildings in Kingsport, the lighthouse was empty. But why the keeper had wandered off was more commentary than mystery. Recent events had made the need for a lighthouse obsolete, as the trade ships from the Novia coast that once frequented the port town had stopped arriving months ago.
Standing at the top of the towered structure, I warmed to the fired pit of the beacon in the cool night air. Looking out into the sea at the empty calm where moonlight met the horizon, I pondered the fate of this poor town.
Gazing on the shipless port, I was reminded of the fable known as The Lost Mice.
The first mouse, the provider, went out in search of food for his family. When he did not return, the second mouse, the mother, went out in search of the father. When the mother did not return, the children starved. One child, barely able to move, crept out to look for its mother and father. There was no sign of them, instead all the child could see was two large glowing orbs, a slit down the center of each.
The lesson from the story is that sometimes the things we lose are lost for a reason.
The first ships went out but did not return. When more ships were sent to search for those who were lost, they too did not come back. Now the children of Kingsport fear to look further, for they may find not two but a single eye staring back at them.
Shardfall and the Village of the Damned-Written by Lich Lord Ravicus Domdred-Narrated by Lord Baldrith
Hello All! Lord Baldrith here with an awesome story by Lich Lord Ravicus called Shardfall and the Village of the Damned. Very dark and excellent story!
Here is the text:
Background Music: Alexandr Zhelanov Pioneers of the Future https://soundcloud.com/alexandr-zhelanov and Gichco by Shinsei
Shardfall and the Village of the Damned by Lich Lord Ravicus Domdred
Ravicus glanced with a steel cold look over the Shard covered plains. as he looked on, the images flood through his mind, of what has been done, and what yet has to be done……
The memoirs of his family have passed from generation to generation in a blood covered grimoire made of flesh that had been rendered and stretched to cover the insidious pages. The grimoire talks of how the Shardfall was the ruin of the land, depriving the villagers of bird and beast. Nothing grew, not grain nor grass. Trees where non existent after the pummeling of the shards.
It is this that leads to the blight that has perpetuated the present circumstances. After the loss of food, be it flora or fauna, the people became desperate, and in desperate times, people do desperate things.
On a trip foraging for food, It might have been fate, or a curse that brought the villagers to an unknown area. A mausoleum lay in ruins, cracked open with the force of huge stones thrown from the heavens. Spirits that were trapped in the mausoleum where not kind, nor friendly. One of them was especially sinister. The undead quickly felt the desperation and hunger in the villagers and quickly moved to possess them, bending their minds to the will of the evil necromancer that lay in the tomb.
The mind of the necromancer was full of dark and forbidden magics and alchemical formulas…..all stemming from the death, and flesh of humans…..(which are printed in blood in the grimoire).
Powerful was this necromancer, commanding raiding parties to scour the lands, rendering flesh and bone, for feast, potions, and the beautifully corrupt art of his evil craft………
Ravicus jolts, steering his thoughts from the past, and smells human flesh, nearby, and just in time too, for the hunger is upon him……Muhahahahahaah. ~Ravicus Domdred~
Shardfall and the Village of the Damned Pt 1 (the Curse of Anthor Poagphus the Hungered)
While stirring restlessly in wait, after laying the bait for some unfortunate passerby to notice…….he again turns to the dark crimson text in the Domdred Grimoire, and begins to revisit the tale of the origins of the City of the Damned….
…..As starvation took hold of the villagers, formation of scouting parties where fully attended in hopes of finding some means of sustenance. One party in particular, led by a young lean farmer’s son, struck out eastward, for it was in that direction that laid unexplored areas since the massive shardfall that decimated the region. With watchful eyes the group journey toward the rising sun, up and around the huge pillars of stone which littered the plundered soil in every direction. Crawling across the lowest point of one of the horizontally laying pillars, an eerie image presents itself.
Shattered stone pieces of what resembles a crypt, a mausoleum of ancient craftsmanship lay in tangled piles earth and stone. Upon closing in on the ruins, a foul must lay in the air, stinging the nostrils and setting in an itch that could not be rid of. It was a mist, a mist sort of like what you would see viewing through a piece of thin black satin. A mild distortion of the rabble strewn about.
With trembling lips and cautious advancement, the farmers son pierced the opaque veil and was stilled in his steps, the breath escaped his lungs as he tried to force out a warning. Instantly, vise like grips of twin skeletons grabbed at his arms, forcing him in place. Out of the debris, a shadow stirs, then becomes visible, an apparition of unspeakable horror! It glides closer, with tattered rags flailing around him. Within an inch of his nose, the ghostly eyes of the necromancer stole into his own, reaching in to his very core. It was with no more than a whisper that his very soul was ripped from his body and absorbed into the shifting form of the undead lich. He closed his eyes………
The skeletons quickly released the body, which for a brief second slumped, then quickly animated back to form! The body seemed to double in size, perhaps an illusion. He then spoke and with the voice of the young man abruptly stated: “I, Anthor Poagphus , have arisen once again!” With saying that, he turned and walked back into the mist, onward toward the unknowing remaining party members……muhahahahah…….
Ravicus Domdred circa 2014
Hello everyone! Lord Baldrith here with a 4th installment of the Sir Frank series called Necropolis. Very good work again!
Background Music by Zander Noriega called Black Drought
Here is the text:
Necropolis By Sir Frank
The rain fell softly upon the canopy of the trees, and ran in rivulets down the branches and trunks, as if being careful not to disturb what lay beneath.
Weathered bones lay scattered among the weeds and brush that had sprouted among the cobbled pathways of an ancient necropolis. One mausoleum remained standing, its door wedged open while two travelers kept dry and enjoyed the cool air inside.
“An interesting choice of refuge from the walking dead”, said sir Frank. “Why leave the safety of Kingsport to live in a grave yard?”
The former innkeeper smiled a broad smile. “The dead were bubbling up from the sewers underneath the tavern! I figured it would only be fair for me to invade their place.” He leaned heavily upon the door jamb and vomited a geyser of foamy stout porter, belched loudly, and then screamed “Everyone is welcome at the Hearth of Britannia!” into the trees. Then he laughed an insane sort of laugh.
Sir Frank leaned back against the wall and waited for nightfall.
Hello everyone, Asclepius here, with a wonderful poem by Languard. This is a rather complex poetic form, called a sestina, and the piece is entitled Shardfall. Background music “Romance Sonata” by Smartsound.
In the past hung two moons,
Silvery light drifting with grace so cool.
The lake shining with gentle glare,
with all the night taking a moment to be still.
Smoothly swaying with no chaos,
a gentle and loving lunar dance.
But what could be changing the dance?
When you should be there, why are you here moon?
Should we fear this new chaos,
Let our lunar passion cool?
The night may be still,
but the water has an ominous glare.
What is this fearsome glare?
What is happening now is no lunar dance,
A moment when all is still…
Then where there was two, now but one moon!
Heat and raging streaks of fire replace night’s cool.
Absolute. Unrelenting. Chaos.
Cries echo to uncaring chaos,
the lake holding red death’s glare.
To mourn a friend now cool,
seeking shelter in a morbid dance,
what more do you wish for us moon?
When will you again be still?
But if you will not relent, we will not be still.
Virtue will shine in the chaos.
Glow shards, a new moon
casting and flickering across the lake’s glare.
With strength and stride we dance,
and wait for the night to cool.
With time passed, the fires are cool.
Once again the night is still.
With new heart and name, Deadalus does his dance.
Virtue changed but virtue still, re-forged by chaos.
Gentle lake holding this glittering glare
of our new sharded moon.
Virtue shines best in the fires of chaos,
but take care you don’t lose sight in the glare.
The world spins on with its new moon.
Hello everyone – This is Asclepius with a great story by Womby, entitled “Journey to Kingsport”. Background music is “Prologue” by Telaron, at http://www.opengameart.org.
Here is the text:
Journey to Kingsport
According to his hastily scribbled map the tavern was somewhere in Kingsport. He wasn’t entirely sure though.
The information was incomplete, and it had taken hours of torture to extract that information from Lord Xychra. Not much of a result after investing all that valuable time.
Still, Lord Xychra had mentioned an associate and a tavern in Kingsport. If there was loot to be found, he had best make his way there.After locating the tavern nestled by the Kingsport docks, Dhank stepped inside to discover a small, dimly lit bar that had obviously seen better days.
The only occupant was the bartender, who paused what he was doing to glance up. A slightly raised eyebrow demanded an explanation for this intrusion.
“Lord Xychra sent me” said Dhank. “He has directed me to collect his belongings, and asked me to show you this as proof”.
With that he dropped Lord Xychra’s ring on the bar. The same ring that less than 24 hours earlier he had removed from his Lordship’s severed finger, as he lay screaming in a pool of blood.
Slowly the bartender picked up the ring and examined it carefully. “Very well. Wait here while I fetch the key and write down some directions.” With that the barman left the room, and Dhank replaced the ring on his finger.
The barman eventually returned with a rough parchment and a large iron key. “Follow these directions, and they’ll take you to Lord Xychra’s associate. I have no doubt that he’ll be very helpful in carrying out Lord Xychra’s wishes.
Following the directions was straightforward, as the location was only a short walk away, beneath the docks. The key opened a door into the town sewer, and Dhank slowly made his way forward, cursing his oversight in not bringing a torch.
He could no longer see the map and inched forward slowly, first following the wall on his left, then the wall on his right before becoming hopelessly disoriented.
Eventually the passage he was in led to a small platform overlooking a large channel filled with a dark and menacing liquid. It might have been water, but Dhank wasn’t about to bet his life on it.
Suddenly he found himself rooted to the spot as he was struck by a spell cast from somewhere behind him. Dhank heard footsteps circle around him, then a torch flickered to life revealing the bartender who had sent him here.
“You should feel honoured.” The bartender came closer as he spoke, and Dhank could see that he wore a butcher’s apron and carried a large set of knives hanging from a leather belt around his waist.
On the opposite side of the platform, visible for the first time in the light of the torch, Dhank could see a butcher’s station, a tanning station and an alchemy station.
“Not everyone is selected for harvesting by his Lordship. He only sends about one a month. Now, let’s start with that finger.”