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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the second part of a compelling story narrated by Isaiah. It is entitled

The Cure, by the Vagabond, Part 2.

Background music is “Lurid Delusion”, by Matthew Pablo at www.matthewpablo.com

The Cure, by the Vagabond Part 2 of 2

My wife continued… “He also accuses me of being a member of an Obsidian Order, and he thinks people are after him and sending him magic messages.” I felt completely betrayed, and  I gave my wife an angry look and I gritted my teeth.

I knew without the context of what really happened that the alchemist would surely think I was crazy and would prescribe far more potent herbs than I needed. I just wanted the suffering to go away, I didn’t want to become a vegetable. Nevertheless, I accepted this situation.

The alchemist didn’t seem phased by what she told him. Yet I didn’t get the impression  he was a member of the Obsidian Order. I think he was just a normal alchemist going about life. There were more horses outside, and the alchemist said “I’m sorry for all the noise we get lots of horses though here. I’m just asking just in case… Do you think the horses are relevant some how?” I shrugged and admitted “well actually yes. I feel like somebody is trying to send me a message.” Now I know he thinks I’m crazy. At this point I’m beginning to think I might be crazy too. In fact I welcome the thought because maybe this could all go away.

I left that place feeling a bit of relief. Maybe the Obsidian Order is going to have mercy on me. As long as I take this medicine that will numb my mind, they will be able to claim I was just insane and people will deny what really happened to me. It really did happen though… WAIT I don’t want to think those thoughts because they can read my mind. I began to force myself to think “I really believe I am crazy,” after each time I think about the obsidian order so the Order knows that I am going to be obedient and keep their secret locked up safe. It seemed like a good deal.

Two weeks later… I felt a whole lot better. The racing thoughts, and the horrible feelings have completely left me. I was still terrified that somehow it was only temporary. I did still see scratchings on the walls, but it didn’t seem significant to me like it did before. I thought either the Obsidian Order had put misleading graffiti on the wall to help me think I am getting better, or maybe none of this ever happened. I still cannot explain the things that happened during that time. Although I’m fine now and I don’t care. The herbs caused me to gain lots of weight, but at least I feel better. I still have crazy moments, but maybe I was just crazy. I don’t want to remember if I am not crazy. If anybody reads this, get help if you are having any experiences like mine. It seems real. Even if it is real just go get help, and get free.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a great little story from Vyrin, entitled

Mark’s Tales of the Unremarkable, No 1.

This is a prequel to a number of tales which we will be featuring in future episodes. Background music is “Step by Step, by Smartsound.

Mark’s Tales of the Unremarkable, Number 1
Introduction

Hello reader, my name is Mark. The first unremarkable tale I will tell is me. You see, I just woke up in the Vale one day. No light, no disorientation, no unexplainable phenomena. I went to bed one day back in my apartment, and woke up in the Vale, wherever this is. My first thoughts here were pretty straightforward. I figured I had to find something to eat and a place to live and that’s what I did. I stumbled onto an abandoned cottage outside Owl’s Head with four walls and a solid roof. I’m still hoping the owners are gone, not dead really, just not coming back.

Since I was a court reporter, I figured I could offer my services as a scribe. Lord Enmar and a few other nobles give me work now and then. I don’t need much so it’s a steady job. To fill my time I travel around and talk to all the other unremarkable people of the Vale. For some reason I feel I have more in common with them than my outlander brethren. I’m not the type to stare off into the distance with my chin upraised and a furrowed brow. Nor do I feel like crafting stories fraught with breathless enthusiasm for adventure. There are mundane things here too and this world is more than a playground for those of us from elsewhere.

All I know is that if you’re still reading, you must not have much to do with your time. That makes you pretty unremarkable too.

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Hello everyone, this is Aclepius, with another wonderful story narrated by Isaiah. It is entitled
The Cure, by the Vagabond, part 1.
Background music is “Lurid Delusion” by Matthew Pablo, at www.matthewpablo.com.

The Cure, by The Vagabond (Part 1 of 2)

I’ve lived on the streets for months now after I wrote my other letters. Now that I’ve written about my dealings with the Obsidian order to warn people, the thoughts have been getting worse. I fear there will be no escape from this terror I am feeling inside. It is miserable, and I feel like I’m on the edge of an endless and eternal suffering. Killing myself may lead to worse suffering if the Order has some how magically has a hold on my soul.

There seems to be no way out. I’ve known of alchemists that use herbs to quite the thoughts of madmen. I didn’t want to go to them because I know that I am fine except for the fact that the Obsidians are pushing evil thoughts into my head. Not only thoughts, but they manipulate my mind so that I feel unexplainable rage, and dysphoria that felt like an inward fire mixed with unending weakness and the feeling of not wanting to move, and yet not moving makes me feel worse.

That’s it! I’m going to an alchemist. I thought that maybe if I went along with the Obsisians’ plot to make me look crazy, that they would leave me alone. It couldn’t hurt. In fact if I pretended that I believed I was crazy then maybe the Obsidians would stop wasting their time with me. Maybe they will let me live in peace so that I don’t talk about them again. I should never have spoken openly about them. The strange thing is my wife found me, because she was worried about me, and she wanted to help me go to one of the alchemists for help. I knew this was a setup by the Obsidian Order, but at this point I was suffering so much I didn’t care. I knew she would tell the alchemist that I was crazy and totally twist what happened so that she looked right, and I looked crazy, but I was fine with that at this point.

We traveled to Kingsport and I found one of the alchemists in the town. Lots of crazies travel through there due to the fighting on the nearby island. When I entered the house of the alchemist he asked me what I was experiencing. I was fearful to be honest. I didn’t want to break any more rules of secrecy. Also right before I began speaking I could hear several mounted people riding by the house. I knew how the Order sends indirect messages, and I knew that the sound of the horses was there way of letting me know they had troupes watching me in case I said something wrong. So I told him that I always feel bad, and I have uncontrollable thoughts and miserable feelings.

Then my wife looked at me, and said “That isn’t all of it…

To be continued

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12/12/2024 Update:
-Links to the .mp3 on this post are now broken
-You can listen to the Mp3 File for this post now, on Youtube, here:

Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a great story from Boomer, entitled

Sebastian Comes of Age

Background music “Blackmoor Tides” and “Soliloquy”, by Matthew Pablo at www.matthewpablo.com

The only memory Sebastian had from his former life was of his mother desperately holding on to his dying father as the ship heeled over from the enormous wind. The decks ran red with the blood of slain seamen, while skeletal warriors raised gory swords in salute to the black-robed wizard commanding their actions. The ship’s wheel had been commandeered by a skeleton, festooned with the tatters of a rotting naval uniform. This monstrosity had put the wheel hard over, steering the doomed vessel onto the roiling surf of the reef. Its fleshless skull was arched back, jaws agape in a macabre imitation of joy. Sebastian’s mother’s magic was holding back the vaporous stream of life-sucking black that swirled between her and the wizard.

A moment of distraction had been enough to end the fight. Sebastian had slid across the deck towards the tumultuous sea. In a blink his mother had shifted her attention and saved his life by casting him onto the beach while the blackness had engulfed her.

Now ten years later, Sebastian celebrated this day as his birthday, the day he was found by some villagers from Kingsport. Most of the wording on the water and blood soaked documents found on him was illegible. “Sebastian _____, aged six, beware Grand _____ Quel___” were the only words that remained.

For most of these ten years the villagers had treated him well. None had adopted him. The evidence of magic with his origins had provoked too much fear. Innkeeper Abbot had, however, set up a small room at the Hearth Inn in exchange for cleaning chores and killing rats in the sewers. Alchemist Julia had encouraged his reading skills and Merchant Nache had generously bought all the cotton he could gather.

Lately, though, hordes of skeletal warriors were preventing him from making any excursions into the sewers. Out of town, the trails and woods he know so well were occupied by hostile elves. In the deep woods, centaurs ruled. In the mountains, giant spiders roamed. Now that Sebastian was 16, villagers were starting to believe that he was somehow instrumental in the arrival of these infestations. Many villagers were starting to treat him with disrespect, especially Mayor Hargrove and some of the guards. Joining Anton and the smugglers seemed all but inevitable.

But then he found out that elves carry gold.

(to be continued)