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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with another wonderful story by Elgarion De’Kahli. It is the first in a series, and is entitled

The Founding of Kahli
Background music is by Smartsound.

4201 Years Before The Cataclysm…
On Moonandai, the 2nd of Apru, the Month of the Farmer, the Life-Giving Season of Strength, in the Waking Dawn, a location was Founded

Kahli, the Wanderer. The White Nomad. The Devout One. The White Acolyte of Artenius. Kahli, the White Mage of the Vale. The Robed Wanderer. So many names… so many untold tales… Kahli, in plain terms, was a sorcerer. He was a devout follower of Artenius, the Seventh Son of the Original Touch, of the now so-called Seventh Son of The Weeping Seven. Little is known of why Kahli the White Mage roamed for so long through the lands of the Vale. Some believed the White Nomad’s travels from village to village which brought the tender touch of Healing, were purely motivated by his devotions to his patron deity. Others believed Kahli was in flight from the forces of Chaos and the acolytes of Larmenius the Sixth Son; oft were they nipping at The Devout One’s heels with presumably evil intent.

Most commonly though, Kahli’s wanderings were accredited to a quest. Kahli, the White Mage of the Vale possessed a fate which was intertwined into a fabric woven from the lifelines of many. With each passing village, it was not uncommon for peasants and lords alike to leave behind their self-serving lives and to assist with the White Mage’s endeavors. Through the passing years, the Robed Wanderer had accumulated quite the following. Oft these devoted ones accompanied the ancient mage, but these devout also took their own paths; oddly, they also seemed to seek an elusive truth.

But upon a year ancient and nearly forgotten, four thousand and some centuries before the Great Cataclysm, the faithful and the Wanderer himself amassed at the northern feet of the Bone Spires. Presumably, there lay what they sought. Why there? To this day it is still a mystery. There is accounting for it being a bountiful land, a simple and practical reason, no doubt. Others account for the powerful lay lines which adjoin in this mystical valley. Another theory being merely the resting place of Kahli himself, having finally passed away here during the final days of wander lust. But a query common to the inquisitive peoples of the Vale, why such long-lived effort was taken to meet in such a place if not for a greater purpose?

The most fabled and documented of accountings was this: As the followers of Kahli made a circle around the aged wizard, beneath the cooling shadow of the Bone Spires and invigorating breeze skirting the surface of the Shimmering Lake, they began to chant. None amongst them were spell singers… these enchanted enunciations were unfamiliar to even themselves. The divine song of Artenius, perhaps? A grand spell they did weave, earth shaking and glorifying to those within its tendrils. A bright fog of magic swirled about the White Acolyte of Artenius, surely fed from the words laced in netherlike energies that danced from the lips of the devout. The ethereal mist became dense… and as it parted, a tiny sapling had sprouted in the place of Kahli, the man. And Kahli, the man, was no more. The White Mage of the Vale left a gift for those seeking a life in pursuit of a perfect Order. Kahli, the Wanderer’s destiny had come and passed. His final purpose fulfilled. From the moment his essence transformed, the Devout of Kahli began a new quest–to build a city of beauty and elegance and perfection. Within its walls, Order reigned. Love… Truth… Courage were the cornerstones whilst Order was the keystone to this society of true believers. As hovels became keeps… paths became cobbled streets… the City of Kahli flourished around this once tiny yet immortal sapling. Kahli, the Wanderer had come home, never to leave… roots now binding his soul to this magical land. The sapling would grow eternal as it fed from the love of its peoples. The city of Kahli would flourish under The Devout One’s nurturing shade. As each twig became branch, the loving roots stretched beneath every home and touched gently beneath the foot of every citizen.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius with another great story from Spoon. It is entitled

Obsidian era notes – the lesson of Andrasia of the craftmasters

Background music is by Smartsound.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
…allegedly the record of a clay tablet found under some of the Desolis ruins and claimed to be a transcription of an Obsidian Order lecture note where the lecturer is unknown. Probably forged since the name has never been found nor corroborated in other obsidian sources…
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Every now and then we get the question from the acolytes why there are so few women among you. While I have heard a lot of silly theories for this over time, it all comes down to simple deduction. So everyone take out your stylus and take your answer to wax. Take your time, imprint what you think is applicable here.

Everyone done? Good, you are most likely wrong.

The simple answer is that most won’t go through with the hysterectomy, and of those that do some doesn’t survive.

But that answer is too simple, isn’t it? It brings too many other questions along with it. Take to wax the questions that you can think of.

Everyone done? Good. Then put your styluses away and listen carefully.

This is the lesson of Andrasia of the craftmasters. She was of outstanding talent and dedication to the Obsidian Cause. Most of our discoveries are either built upon the work of the Eye or of Andrasia. But you will see no mentions of her or her work and that is because she died young and left all those discoveries to others to finish into theories and practices.

The smarter of you have already deduced the ending of this story by now, so I’m filling in the blanks for you who need to work harder on your deductive capabilities.

Andrasia died being eaten from the inside.

By the gasps, I hear that most of you need to work on your deductive reasoning, so let me state some of the facts that you had to deduce it from:

One – Andrasia studied and became a craftmaster.

Two – To do that she of course spent time in the vicinity of the Grunvald shardfall and brought home artifacts from it.

Three – As you know, children are more susceptible to fomorian transformation.

Ah, I can see that most of you have reached a conclusion by now, but most of you are still wrong. Although that might be due to a piece of data not yet presented.

Yes, something transformed and grew inside Andrasia’s uterus eating its way into her intestines and killing her slowly over several days while we were trying to help her and kill the creature within her.

But! The answers to your questions aren’t as simple as you think.

You see, we are quite certain that Andrasia was a virgin at the time.

We are also quite certain that whatever it was inside her wasn’t anything that we have seen before or since.
This again gives rise to a lot of questions. Some of which I hope that new acolytes like yourselves will answer for us one of these days.

But for now it suffices to say that this is why we require hysterectomies from all females before they become acolytes. It is also why we recommend complete sack castration as a precaution in males even though we do not require it.

And a final note before you all leave. Whatever it was that grew inside Andrasia, it got away from the four sorcerers present and escaped into the Epitaph.
It has not yet been found.

For the adventurous among you there is still a reward for its capture, set by the Cabal itself.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a great story from Elgarion De’Kahli, entitled
Catching one’s Breath
Background music is by Smartsound

As the old sorcerer Elgarion hobbled his way down the moss speckled cobblestone road of the now familiar PaxLair, a pause in his progress always seemed to occur alongside the path leading from the road to the fabled Church of the Dark Star. Elgarion’s hesitation was oft interpreted as a respite by those passing, as then he usually leaned heavily upon his cane or a nearby fence post. His aged eyes peered through wrinkled lids and took in the Church’s visage. The venerable and weary traveler’s mind would always spin with curiosity about what lay within the seemingly unforboding structure and what promising resources of knowledge must exist inside.

In Elgarion’s time before his imprisonment hundreds of years before this day, in his homeland of Kahli of the Hidden Vale, those daring enough to worship Chaos or entities of that sort never did so openly fearing persecution or condemnation. Forced into the shadows they were, to worship in secret. Yet no matter how pious or filled with light the peoples of Kahli might have been, no matter how faithful their devotions proved towards Artenius the Seventh Son of the Original Touch, their dedication to this deity of Order did not save them from their sufferings to come.

Now, however, his world had changed. What was once feared or scorned now brought little worry to commoners nor did there seem to be open hatred of such activities. He would never have guessed that beings of Chaos could coexist alongside disciples of Order, but alas, there were a great many things which surprised him upon his travels each and every day in this familiar yet foreign world of New Britannia.

Still not taking the courage to enter and once again deciding against extending his vulnerabilities and pleas for aid to a servant of Chaos, Elgarion continued upon his way. As the months passed, the path would often guide the old man to the Church of the Dark Star, and the considerations for seeking council with the High Priestess grew with each respite. Perhaps one day, the old sorcerer would knock upon the heavy oaken door. Surely Artenius, even then would guide him to the Truth and protect him from the evil which his peoples so feared and perhaps misunderstood.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful story from Themo Lock. It is entitled

Curiosity kills Nothing

and was also a winning entry in the “Valorbook of the Vale” competition.
Background music is by Smartsound.

Valorbook of the Vale: The Courage of the Outlanders
by Commander Fortezzo

Volume XXII: Curiosity Kills Nothing

The enemy can take many forms — from a howling throng of brutes charging savagely over the hill to a well-trained and well-armored host, clanking and clattering, thunderous and dread. Sometimes she is solitary, weaving her dark and deadly magic from her frightful tower striking terror into the hearts of those who would oppose her. But often the greatest enemy is simply the unknown. Failing to face what may or may not be can stop the mightiest of men in their tracks. But steeling oneself against the darkness can be the first step in what can become the greatest of heroic journeys. From the crypts of Ravensmoor comes the tale of Themo Lock, the Outlander who was brave enough to make that first step.

* * *

Deep within the crypts of Ravensmoor, Themo crouched before a wall sconce and fumbled with a tinderbox by the dim light that radiated from the cloak about his shoulders. A shudder ran down his spine and he failed to shake off the feeling that he was not alone in the almost unnatural darkness that seemed more like a solid wall than a mere alliance of shadows.

He had been lured into the depths of this neglected tomb by a sense of adventure and an unrelenting curiosity that would shame any cat. His pack brimmed with the rancid ectoplasmic muck that he had harvested from the frail animated skeletons that had challenged his entry in the upper rooms and the smell of it now assailed his nostrils and tested his stomach’s fortitude.

The damp torch sputtered to life with exaggerated brightness, forcing back the darkness to a more comfortable distance and causing the adventurer’s eyes to water. A faint echo caused his breath to catch in his throat, and he spun on his heel, torch outstretched, probing the corridor ahead of him for signs of life.

Was that movement he saw? Or was it perhaps just smoke from the torch being drawn along by a draft? Fatigue began to come over him and made him call his otherwise keen senses into question. Suddenly his back ached from the weight of his pack. He stumbled slightly as he felt his legs tremble and weaken. His torch slipped from his hand, and still lit clattered noisily to the stone floor.

Something was not right — he had felt fully rested and hearty just moments before but now struggled to remain upright and alert. A noise he could only describe as an otherworldly gust of wind alerted him to a threat he now recognized: somewhere in the darkness ahead, a ghost was draining him of his very life-force. He knew he had to act and he had to act fast.

Feebly he juggled with his pouches, plucking out reagents as he mouthed arcane syllables that merged and brought his spell into being. A fleeing rat squealed into lifelessness at his feet and dying insects rained from the ceiling as ahead of him in the darkness the ghost let out a piercing shriek. Themo would not succumb. He was no stranger to death magic. This creature had robbed him of his vitality, but, by all he was, he would have it back!

The spectre came into view, drifting towards him as he chanted a second incantation. The air crackled with raw energy as a bolt of brilliant blue light leapt from his fingers, piercing the ghost’s insubstantial form and splitting the stone bricks beyond. His foe hesitated and he took full advantage with a combination of life draining magic that revitalized his limbs whilst crippling his would-be assassin. The ghost’s form faded and dissipated as the tortured soul once more found rest.

The Outlander hesitated for a moment. Sure he could go back, but that is something his bold heart would not allow. Gathering his will, Themo kicked the torch further down the corridor to scout the shadows for more signs of movement, illuminating the section of wall where the brickwork had crumbled and fallen away, revealing a passageway that had lain hidden beyond.

“Now I wonder what is in there,” he voiced aloud, grinning from ear to ear and shouldering his pack. The Outlander adventured on.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a great story by Spoon. This was the winning entry in the contest promoted by Winfield in February 2015, with the theme

“Valorbook of the Vale: The Courage of the Outlanders” by Commander Fortezzo
Background music is by Smartsound
Volume IX: They Are Coming!

Much has been said of the arrival of the Outlanders. For some, their appearance in our world is the fulfillment of a prophecy spoken in days of old. For others, their coming has brought naught but many, many questions. What is beyond all question, however, is the great courage which many of these newcomers have displayed in the face of unspeakable danger. One of the earliest tales of Outlandish valor was a report told to me by none other than Halmar himself, the Captain of the Guard, a seasoned warrior and a trusted friend. With great admiration, Halmar spoke to me of such Outlanders’ courage as he himself had witnessed firsthand: the bravery of Spoon and his companions, new arrivals from a world far, far beyond our own.

* * *

“They are coming!”

The scout’s cry made Halmar look up. “No. Not so soon,” he said to himself out loud. A cold panic gripped his gut. They were too fatigued. After all, they had been on the move for two days straight. But now, the horrors of the past week had caught up with them. There would be no escape.

“They are coming!” shouted Dan the Scout again.

The original orders to Halmar and his squad had been simple: fetch the remaining folks from the surrounding farms and bring them to the safety of Solace Bridge Keep before the rumored Undead attack. Their orders received, Halmar and his company quickly followed through. The few left in the farms were the stubborn and the overwhelmed: those too afraid to leave their homes behind, the infirm, the elderly, mothers with small children. All else who had had the means had left of their own accord. Halmar had hoped the mission would be quick, but he soon found that his original plan devolved into a quagmire of weeping, coaxing, and delay. Finally, three ox-wagons and almost as many dozen evacuees in a sorry caravan of sorts were heading back to the safety of Solace Bridge Keep.

Those delays would prove a fortune in disguise.

The day before they were due in Solace, Halmar had dispatched Dan to scout ahead. From a hidden vantage point, Dan had seen the vastness of the Undead host and quickly deduced the outcome — Solace had been lost. When Dan returned, Halmar only needed to look him in the eyes: without a word, he knew all hope for a haven had been snuffed out. Solace was doomed.

A seasoned veteran, Halmar gave the harsh orders to change directions with no hesitation. At first the refugees and even some of his soldiers protested having to turn away when their goal was so close. But that night when they rested briefly, a great light could be seen from Solace, and all understood. One of the women tearfully asked why the Undead would burn their conquest. Halmar and his soldiers exchanged knowing glances in silence. The Undead would not, but people without hope would.

They had been fleeing ever since, Halmar and his troop doing all to move the slow caravan faster along the Solace River, though they knew it was all in vain. Dan scouted behind, reporting the steady decreasing distance between the weary fugitives and pursuers who needed no rest.

But now, with Dan’s cry, Halmar knew they had caught up. He looked at the wagons carrying the feeble and the small, the ragged and the struggling. He knew what had to be done.

Quickly he gathered his squad. “All of you,” he said to them, looking each in the eye, “you have served bravely and faithfully. You all know me. You all know what is behind. Most of them will not make it. But there may be hope for some. Each of you, take a child small enough to carry; leave everything and everyone else. Head for the coast. Go! ”

Halmar hated this part. His orders given, he walked away from the caravan, never looking back, ignoring the cries and shouts of confusion as his squad carried out his command. With Dan at his side, Halmar picked a good defensive spot, just above a brook with his back against some rocks. They could hold out there, but just for a short while. “Buy them some time,” he thought to himself.

“It won’t be long now,” said the scout. Halmar gave Dan a tired look but did not respond, instead he drew his sword. A line of figures approached. Oh, how many there were! Halmar swallowed and gathered his spirit.

Suddenly someone ran past them. “Wooohoooo! Over here!”

Halmar stared in disbelief as three warriors fully clad in steel crashed into the line of undead. With quick strokes from axe, sword and halberd, the fragile bones shattered. The three moved from foe to foe, dispatching each with abandon, and calling to each other all along:

“That one’s mine!” said the first.

“Kill first, loot later,” urged another.

“Quick, heal me!” And with a flash of light, the third’s request was quickly answered.

As Halmar watched, a stream of fire detonated into the host of undead, engulfing and shattering whatever it struck. Halmar held out his hand to shield his face from the heat waves, blinking in the bright light.

Then a piercing unreal scream struck not only his ears but also filled his heart with dread.

“There’s the lich!” shouted one of the warriors, “It’s on me!”

“Coming,” he was answered.

“Hey! Leave some for me!”

Halmar looked at Dan, both in amazement, neither understanding what legends had manifested themselves in front of their eyes. Heartened, the captain and the scout tightened their grips on their blades and went to join the fray. Before too long, the last of the unstoppable legion of Undead were defeated.

At battle’s end, removing his helmet, one of the warriors strode up to the captain and spoke, “Hey. I’m sorry — I forgot to ask. Did you mind that we joined your fun?”

Halmar just stood there staring, shaking his head at the absurdity of the question. The stranger smiled at him knowingly. “Name?”

“I’m Halmar, Captain of the Guard… ”

“I’m Spoon,” said the stranger, “pleased to meet you. Back there we passed some ragged people, are they yours? With the immediate threat gone, would you mind if we head back and help heal them up? Maybe even keep you company for a bit?”

Exhausted, relieved and stunned, Halmar grasped for something to say. “But…but where did you come from?”

“Truthfully? Earth.”

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the final chapter in this wonderful story from the pen of enderandrew. It is entitled
“The Four Eras” , by Joorus the Scribe
Background music is by Smartsound.

Volume IV

As the Obsidians vanished, the Oracle emerged bringing us into the fourth age, Oracular Enlightenment.

The timing of these two events seems more than coincidental.

One could suggest the Obsidian Empire created the Oracle with their vacuum, or more directly that they simply created the Oracle to spy on Novia so they would know when to return. But that seems unlikely as the Titans support the Oracle and the Oracle advocates for a return to the virtues of the Avatars.

You could also suggest it was the arrival of the Oracle that caused the Obsidians to disappear, that she somehow vanquished their mighty empire with her mere presence. This seems like a stretch, but it cannot be completely discounted.

She does not command any army by conventional definitions, though she has a large contingent of clockwork servants called Watchers that keep her informed of near every activity in Novia.

For the first time since The Fall, the citizens of Novia can hope for more than mere survival. There is an optimism in some corners that the darkest days may be behind us, that we’ve been living in an age of enlightenment.

Confirmatories were erected in major cities so people could seek her wisdom and guidance, even from a distance.

Some cities have grown into peaceful kingdoms and shogunates. We have trade and growth reaching the far corners of Novia. We’ve had a return to the arts and academia (of which I am grateful evidence). We’ve had 200 wonderful years of prosperity.

But the Dirae Prophecies suggest change is coming. We have outlanders pouring in. Will they be Avatars? Will they uphold virtue and serve as defenders of Novia or portend darker days? We may be entering a fifth age.

What this fifth age might be, I do not know. But I do know that our eyes have turned to these outlanders. Will they shape our future?

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next chapter in this wonderful story from the pen of enderandrew. It is entitled
“The Four Eras”, by Joorus the Scribe
Background music is by Smartsound.

Volume III

It seemed that no one could create anything lasting or with any reach, except for the newly formed Obsidian Empire. Their power and reach grew at an almost impossible rate. Exactly how they pulled it off is a bit of a mystery. If anyone truly knew all the details, they might replicate it today.

As a scribe (I’m reticent to call myself a historian when I largely record the findings of so many others that worked before me), I feel a duty to report all that I can uncover. But when it comes to the Obsidians, I at least give pause. The thought has crossed my mind more than a few times that in providing any knowledge of the Obsidians, I might encourage or enable someone else who wants to follow in their footsteps.

Despite those concerns, I do promote knowledge over ignorance when at all possible and I’ve yet to see that anyone is truly poised to re-enact their previous conquest.

What we do know is that a mighty military Empire was controlled by a fairly small Cabal of sorcerers. Their magical mastery was enough to instil terror and/or loyalty enough that they did not need bureaucracy or appeasement to rule.

As they overtook each city, they would add to their ranks in varied ways. Some people saw them as the inevitable rulers of all of Novia and simply accepted their rule quicker than most rather than fighting to the death. Others resisted, were captured and then changed into slaves, stripped of both their free will and humanity.

The Obsidians developed terrifying rituals by which they could harness the power of shards to morph Humans into Fomorians. From their magic we have Fauns, Satyrs, Elves and Kobolds.

We know the Titans opposed the Obsidians, but just as we do not know how the Obsidian Empire nearly covered all of Novia, we don’t understand what undermined them. The Empire crumbled and failed to complete their continental conquest. It was not mere attrition that stopped their advances. Their Empire withered quickly and the Cabal itself vanished almost as quickly as it has appeared.

More than a few believe the Cabal merely retreated into the shadows, that they are biding their time for their eventual return. If they slinked back because of the Titans and the emergence of the Oracle, then perhaps we have nothing to fear so long as they persist.

Maybe there is nothing to fear at all. They could have self-cannibalized with betrayal and power struggles since they didn’t have a larger structure of bureaucracy. I wish I could find evidence that was the case to assuage our fears.

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Hello everyone…Here is a post of the listening party story we heard on Saturday November 14, 2015. A very fine ‘Spooky’ story from our champion writer Gabriel Nightshadow. Hope you enjoy!

Legacy Part I: Written By Gabriel Nightshadow

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor by Johann Sebastian Bach, performed by Mario4536

The New Britannia Theater Troupe
Presents

Legacy

Directed and Produced by Lord Baldrith
Writer and Music Supervisor: Gabriel Nightshadow

VOICE CAST
Lord Baldrith as Asteedo, Quentin Kane, Marcus Blaine, Lucas, and the Narrator
Doctor Shroud as Giles, Rupert, Grim Reaper, and Dinsoo
Amber Raine as Anna Devereux and Simone Devereux

NARRATOR
Prologue:
Midnight, Braemar, 25 years ago…

On the fifth level of his stone basement, the famous court composer, Asteedo, stares at the light emitted from the candelabra as he bites off the last of the tender, seasoned meat from the thigh bone. He places the bare bone on the silver plate in front of him. Asteedo hears his latest masterpiece playing on the nearby ornate metallic phonograph while he chews. After a few minutes, he is done, and washes everything down with red wine from his golden goblet.

ASTEEDO
Mmm…perfectly cooked and seasoned this evening. Perhaps tomorrow night I shall experiment with the seasoning by adding some tarragon.

NARRATOR
Suddenly, Asteedo hears loud voices outside his basement door, which is suddenly forced upon by a large, angry crowd of villagers wielding sharp farm implements!

QUENTIN KANE (yelling)
There is the monster! Seize him!

ASTEEDO (angry)
What is the meaning of this?! How dare you barge into my home and interrupt my dinner!”

ANNA DEVEREUX (screaming)
Oh my god! He kept trophies…

NARRATOR
The crowd turns to look at the mahogany shelves lining the left wall. Dozens of human skulls are on display, each accompanied by a bronze nameplate indicating the deceased’s name, age, and date of consumption. Many in the crowd gasp in horror, and a few of them even begin vomiting.
Two burly farmers named Jed and Ted grab Asteedo and restrain him. The blacksmith, a fellow by the name of Marcus Blaine, takes a sniff of the odor coming from the golden goblet. He raises it to his lips and takes a sip. He immediately spits the wine out and gasps.

MARCUS BLAINE (gasping)
This is not wine! It’s human blood…

QUENTIN KANE (yelling)
How could you do this? We have known you for years and treated you well. We respected your desire for privacy from the ever watchful eyes of the royal court. You repaid our kindness by kidnapping our children and devouring them!

ASTEEDO (calmly)
I could not help myself. This ever present hunger for tender, human flesh is in my blood, for I am the last surviving descendant of the Kaitoth tribe!

ANNA DEVEREUX
I remember my grandmother telling me tales about the Kaitoth when I was a child. They were fierce hunters who lived long ago in the area now occupied by Paxlair. They took refuge with the others in the caves during the Great Cataclysm 400 years ago. When food became scarce, they began using their superior hunting skills against their fellow Britannians. They were eventually wiped out by General Jeremiah Dane and his men at the direction of the surviving members of the Great Council.

ASTEEDO
A handful of my ancestors managed to survive the Great Purge and retreated even further into the underground caverns, where they remained until it was safe to return to the surface once more…
QUENTIN KANE
We heard that Guard Captain Duncan Congreve and his men will be by in a few hours to arrest you for your crimes, but we will not take a chance that your influence will cause the magistrate to set you free! We demand justice now! Bring him!

NARRATOR
Jed and Ted force Asteedo forward.

Damnation by Jens Kiilstofte

Soon the crowd is gathered in the backyard of Asteedo’s isolated manor.

QUENTIN KANE
How shall we dispose of this criminal?

ANNA DEVEREUX
Burn him!

MARCUS BLAINE
Stone him!

QUENTIN KANE
Let us decide by a show of hands. All those in favor of burning, raise your hands!

NARRATOR
Seven people raise their hands.

QUENTIN KANE
Those in favoring of stoning?

NARRATOR
Eleven people raise their hands.

QUENTIN KANE
Stoning it is, then. Jed and Ted, bind the criminal to the stone ankh!

NARRATOR
Jed and Ted use steel chains to bind Asteedo to the large stone ankh. Everyone in the crowd begin picking up the largest stones they can find on the ground.

QUENTIN KANE
Any last words?

ASTEEDO (defiant)
You may kill me tonight, but this is not the last you have heard of the Kaitoth!

NARRATOR
Asteedo spits in Quentin’s face.

QUENTIN KANE
That’s what you think!

NARRATOR
Quentin wipes the spit off his face.

QUENTIN KANE
Come on, let us get this over with quickly! I need to get home soon. My pregnant wife, Mara, must be wondering why I still out playing poker with the guys…

NARRATOR
Asteedo suddenly smiles wickedly and begins laughing, as the villagers start throwing stones at him.
Fifteen minutes later, he breathes his last, as his bloody and battered form goes limp.

QUENTIN KANE
Jed and Ted, weigh down his body and toss it into the well over there. The rest of you go inside, throw some animal blood around and smash the furniture. That way it will look like robbery plus abduction and/or murder. We must not let Guard Captain Congreve and his men learn the truth about what we have done here tonight!

NARRATOR
The crowd proceeds to carry out Quentin’s instructions.
Another fifteen minutes later, Jed and Ted dump Asteedo’s body into the well as the remaining villagers disperse.
As Asteedo’s body falls down the well, his eyes stare vacantly at the blood red shattered moon in the dark night sky…

Beyond the Clouds (Theme for Modern Broadcast) by Matthew Pablo

NARRATOR
One year ago…

NEWSFLASH – JACK TWITT MISSING, PRESUMED DEAD! By Anasche Cumberbatch. Authorities in Braemar are investigating the mysterious disappearance of local resident Jack Twitt, last seen exiting the local tavern late Friday evening. Eyewitnesses report that Mr. Twitt, who was a close personal friend of Lord Enmar, was rather inebriated that evening, lamenting how much he missed his “Hollywood” lifestyle and his recent rejection for membership by The New Britannia Theater Troupe. A search of his manor suggests that he may have been abducted or even killed, as evidenced by all of the smashed furniture and blood splatter found in his library.
When contacted, one of the cofounders of the Troupe, Asclepius, had this to say. “Yes, it is true that Mr. Twitt applied to join our group, but Lord Baldrith and I felt that his acting skills were only average. Furthermore, during his audition, he was rather arrogant and kept hitting on our lead actresses, Amber Raine and Lady Adnor. In light of all this, we felt that he would be a disruptive influence to our organization and decided to reject his application.”
Many of the local residents did not seem to have a very high opinion of Mr. Twitt, who was an Outlander. Quentin Kane, a local farmer, complained that Mr. Twitt had seduced his innocent teenage daughter, Melody, and had gotten her pregnant and often used to make fun of his frail, older son, Obadiah, while he was growing up. Seamstress Anna Devereux said that Mr. Twitt, who was employed as a drama teacher at the Braemar School for the Gifted, had also been secretly seeing her teenage daughter, Simone, who was one of his students. Marcus Blaine, the local blacksmith, claimed that Mr. Twitt had also seduced the wives of many of the village’s most prominent citizens, which allowed him to live rather lavishly in this small farming community. Jed Crumfelt, his next door neighbor, complained that Mr. Twitt was a rather obnoxious fellow who often held loud, wild parties at his town home late at night on the weekends and goaded Jed’s teenage son, Lucas, and his schoolmates to fight him for gold in the secret caged arena he had constructed in his basement.
Rumors that the authorities had received a note from the mysterious anti-Outlander group, the Homeguard, claiming responsibility for Mr. Twitt’s disappearance were flatly denied by their official spokesman, Captain Norden Haktell, however, our good friend, Guard Bob, was able to confirm its existence, but not its authenticity. It should be noted that Guard Bob was suddenly transferred to the port city of Ardoris late last night and his duties have been assumed by his replacement, Guard Michael (formerly of Owls Head)…

Beyond The Clouds (Theme for Modern Broadcast) by Matthew Pablo

One month later…

NEWSFLASH – “BLOOD MANOR” SOLD TO NEW OWNER. By Anasche Cumberbatch. The mysterious Baron Nicolai Darmu has purchased the infamous “Blood Manor” here in Braemar. As listeners are well aware, both of its previous owners, the famous court composer, Asteedo, and the outlander known as Jack Twitt, vanished under mysterious circumstances. Foul play was suspected in both cases based on the amount of blood found at the scene, but no bodies were ever recovered. Baron Darmu moved into the manor late last week, but has rarely been seen in public. When reached for comment, his servant, a rather tall, thin fellow by the name of Giles, explained that Baron Darmu is a very busy businessman and spends most of his time away conducting business in Rifts End.

Waltz of the Undertaker by Aaron Spencer

NARRATOR
The present. 10:00 PM. Halloween night.
The blood red shattered moon hangs in the dark night sky as the costumed teenagers Simone, Lucas, and Rupert approach “Blood Manor”. Simone, a beautiful, raven-haired 16 year old, is wearing a zombie mask. Lucas, a muscular, blond, 17 year old boy, is wearing a bear mask. Rupert, a, tall, thin, 16 year old, bespectacled, brown haired lad is wearing a wolf mask.

RUPERT (British accent)
Are you sure we should be doing this? This place really gives me the creeps!

LUCAS (taunting)
What’s the matter, Rupert? Are you scared?

RUPERT (stammering)
No…

SIMONE
I still don’t know why the village elders decided to start celebrating this earth holiday known as Halloween. This zombie mask is really uncomfortable…

RUPERT
It’s because of the many Outlanders who have been settling here in Braemar lately. They have started having an influence on our culture…

LUCAS (excited)
All I know is that I love this earth holiday! I love sweets!

SIMONE (teasing)
Careful there, Lucas! Eat too many of those and you’ll start looking like DarkStarr’s blimp…
LUCAS (laughing)
Yeah…and then you’ll end up dumping me and start dating Rupert! Not much of a chance of that happening…

NARRATOR
Both Lucas and Simone fail to notice the sad look in Rupert’s eyes, for he has been secretly in love with Simone since they were both seven years old. Rupert manages a half-hearted laugh and looks away.

SIMONE
Have either of you ever seen what Baron Darmu looks like?

LUCAS
No, but my dad met him once. He said that he is a tall, but rather chubby, middle-aged fellow with jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a Van Dyke beard. Dad also mentioned that Lord Darmu speaks with a strange foreign accent.

NARRATOR
Rupert strokes his chin and ponders things.

RUPERT
Hmm…how interesting. He probably hails from the Eastern lands…

SIMONE
Well, all I know is that none of the other kids from school will dare go to his house for treats this evening. We will be the first…

NARRATOR
As they approach the manor, they notice the six Jack-o-Lanterns and six skeletons scattered about the front yard. An ominous looking statue of the Grim Reaper is also on display. Nine giant spiders are mounted on the exterior of the house. A solitary light is visible on the second floor and a rotund shape is visible behind the curtains, most likely Baron Darmu himself. As Lucas uses the skull shaped knocker on the front door, Simone and Rupert glance at the ornate skull candles on either side of the doorway.
The door creaks open, and a tall, thin grey haired man dressed in a servant’s uniform addresses them.

GILES (gleeful)
Ah, our first guests for the evening…Please come in and make yourselves comfortable. I will fetch the treats and apple cider from the kitchen…

RUPERT (uneasy)
Um…I really don’t think we should be going inside…

LUCAS
Come on, Rupert. We can’t turn down the nice man’s invitation! Right, Simone?

SIMONE (wary)
I guess so…But as long as I have you here, Lucas, I am sure that everything will be OK!

NARRATOR
Giles ushers them into the parlor and shuts the door behind them. The teenagers fail to notice that there is a glowing mystical rune engraved on the deadbolt lock. Giles ushers them into the parlor where a silver punch bowl and porcelain cups await them on the table.

GILES
Please help yourselves to some warm apple cider! I will fetch the pastries and candies from the kitchen.

NARRATOR
Giles ventures into a side room as the three teenagers remove their masks and use the ladle to fill their cups.

SIMONE
Mmm…this is mighty tasty apple cider! I detect a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg in it.

NARRATOR
Lucas notices all of the rare and valuable antiques in the room.

LUCAS
Wow, this guy is really rich!

RUPERT
I heard that Baron Darmu is in the import and export business…

NARRATOR
Suddenly, they hear a loud crash from the kitchen!
SIMONE (startled)
What was that?

LUCAS
Let’s investigate! You two stay behind me…just in case…

Derelict Ship by Per Kiilstofte

NARRATOR
The three teenagers enter the kitchen. Simone begins screaming! The serving tray and pastries are strewn about on the kitchen floor. Giles dead body lies there too. It appears that he has been stabbed several times as evidenced by the large blood spots on his uniform. A long butcher knife is sticking out of his chest and his vacant eyes stare upward.

LUCAS
Let’s get out of here!

NARRATOR
The trio rush to the front door. Lucas spends several minutes trying to turn the knob, but to no avail!

LUCAS (exasperated)
Argh! I can’t seem to turn the knob! Let’s try the back door!

NARRATOR
The trio pass by the kitchen again on the way to the back door.

SIMONE
I’m scared, Lucas…

LUCAS
Nothing for you to be afraid of, Simone! I will protect you from…

NARRATOR
Suddenly, Lucas is decapitated by a scythe and his body falls to the ground! His severed head rolls to a stop directly in front of Simone.

Both Simone and Rupert begin screaming as a tall, black robed figure emerges from the kitchen! He is wearing a Grim Reaper mask and is breathing heavily.RUPERT (yelling)
Upstairs!

NARRATOR
Rupert quickly grabs Simone’s hand and pulls her along as he races up the stairway.
The Grim Reaper drops his scythe and pulls out the long, bloody butcher knife from underneath his robe. He runs up the stairs after Rupert and Simone.
Both Rupert and Simone try to hide in one of the rooms on the second floor, but find that all of the doors are locked. As they reach the end of the hallway, the Grim Reaper appears at the other end.

RUPERT (yelling)
Make your way up to the roof! I’ll try and hold him off!

NARRATOR
Rupert grabs a longsword which happens to be lying on the floor and charges toward the Grim Reaper.

SIMONE (yelling)
Rupert, no…!

RUPERT (shouting)
I won’t let you harm the woman I love!

NARRATOR
Rupert begins wildly swinging the longsword at the Grim Reaper.
The Grim Reaper laughs as he easily dodges Rupert’s attacks and then disembowels him with the long butcher knife!

Rupert drops his sword and coughs up blood.

RUPERT (muttering)
Damn, never a Slayer around when you need one…

NARRATOR
Rupert falls to the ground and dies.

NARRATOR
Simone screams as she turns and runs up the staircase to the third floor. The Grim Reaper pursues her.
On the third floor, Simone finally finds an unlocked door and quickly enters, bolting the door shut behind her. She places a nearby chair against the door and then looks around. She is in the main bedroom. She notices a mannequin by the open window. A Baron’s tunic is draped on it, with a lot of padding sewed underneath it. On the nearby table is a head mannequin with a jet black wig and fake Van Dyke beard on it.

SIMONE (surprised)
Oh my god, this is a disguise! That means that Baron Darmu doesn’t really exist…

GRIM REAPER
That’s right, you have discovered my little secret, Simone. My immense wealth really derives from my work as a Grandmaster Bard.

NARRATOR
Simone turns around and sees the Grim Reaper standing there!

SIMONE (shocked)
“How did you get in here? The door is still locked…

GRIM REAPER
I used a secret door, my dear. Giles doesn’t exist either…I just pretended to be dead so that all of you would panic.

NARRATOR
The Grim Reaper removes his mask. Simone gasps!

SIMONE (surprised)
I recognize you! You’re Obadiah Kane…Quentin Kane’s eldest son. But you don’t look frail at all…”

GRIM REAPER
I grew up to be big and strong by consuming a lot of meat. It seems that I inherited this hunger from my real father…

SIMONE (confused)
Your real father?

DINSOO
Yes, the court composer Asteedo was my true father. He was having an affair with Mara Kane. That makes me the last of the Kaitoth! I have given myself a new name to reflect my heritage – Dinsoo. Your friends are much too dry and tough for my taste, but I will take great delight in feasting on your tender flesh tonight…

SIMONE (screaming)
No!

NARRATOR
Simone turns toward the open window. She tries to make a break for it, but Dinsoo is too fast. He pounces on her and knocks her to the ground.
Dinsoo suddenly licks her right cheek and becomes visibly aroused.

DINSOO (whispering)
Mmm…Soon you shall become a part of me…

NARRATOR
Dinsoo grabs Simone’s head with both of his hands. He twists it 180 degrees, causing her neck to snap!

Horror Game Menu by Eric Matyas

NARRATOR
Dinsoo stands up and slings Simone’s dead body over his right shoulder. He walks over to the bookcase on the far side of the room and pulls on a certain book. A section of the bookcase swings open, revealing a hidden staircase. Dinsoo begins whistling a merry tune as he proceeds to walk down the dimly lit staircase to his basement…

THE END

MUSIC CREDITS
The following music tracks used in this production are licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/)
and can be found at:
https://machinimasound.com

“Damnation” by Jens Kiilstofte
“Waltz of the Undertaker” by Aaron Spencer
“Derelict Ship” by Per Kiilstofte

The following music track is
licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/)
and can be found at: http://www.matthewpablo.com

“Beyond the Clouds (Theme for Modern Broadcast)” by Matthew Pablo

The following music tracks are
licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/)
and can be found at: http://www.opengameart.org

“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor” by Johann Sebastian Bach, performed by Mario4536
“Horror Game Menu” by Eric Matyas

SOUND EFFECTS CREDITS
All sound effects used in this production are licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/)

The following sound effects can be found at:
http://soundbible.com

“Decapitation Head Fall Off” – Recorded by Mike Koenig
“Gutting Someone” – Recorded by Mike Koenig
“Neck Breaking” – Recorded by Mike Koenig

The following sound effects can be found at:
http://opengameart.org

“Falling Body” – Recorded by remaxim

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with the next chapter in this wonderful story from the pen of enderandrew. It is entitled
“The Four Eras”, by Joorus the Scribe
Background music is by Smartsound.

Volume II

The survivors of the cataclysm emerged to find total chaos and anarchy. Old alliances and feudal oaths were meaningless. It was largely every person for themselves as best we can tell, though some did band together based on proximity. Warlords organized mobs to conquer and defend, but it is hard to call these groups organized armies.

Historians refer to this second post-cataclysm age as “The Warring Cities” for obvious reasons.

These early battles were very costly. Troops were not trained and they were desperate. There were few healers and no real support systems. Magic was changing, different and unpredictable.

There were no Titans. There was no Oracle. There was no one to protect and look over Novia. Whatever Avatars may have existed in Novia before The Fall were gone, one way or another. Perhaps they were killed for causing The Fall. It seems unlikely they would simply abandon Novia in its time of greatest need if they did truly advocate and defend virtue. But for whatever reason, there were none to be found.

Thankfully a few did see the bigger picture of survival. Loose city states started building walls, gates and varied defences. Citizens banded together, and while it wasn’t always enough to stop one rampaging mob, the cost of conquering a town was often so costly that it was all they could do to hold onto the one city they conquered. No one could maintain a large enough army to continue on and unite these cities into empires.

There were rumors that some men did not seek power in the immediate or more traditional senses. They had their eyes on a much larger prize. Many powerful mages disappeared and rumors spread of an underground cabal that formed. These mages sought to understand the shards that nearly destroyed the planet.

Were these origins benevolent? Were they merely looking for a way to prevent further calamities? It is hard to know. That isn’t to say that all knowledge of the Obsidians has disappeared. We’ve discovered some of their ruins and relics, but they did not carelessly write down any secrets. I suspect their most important knowledge was passed on verbally in protected rites only to those who proved their worth.

What is known is that as cities and society sought to reform through war, a few had grander schemes. They saw the chaos that infected the land and thought they could install order across the entire continent through force.

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Hello everyone, this is Asclepius, with a wonderful story from the pen of enderandrew. It is entitled

“The Four Eras”, by Joorus the Scribe
Background music is by Smartsound.

Volume I

I may sound like a broken phonograph, but we know very little about the time before The Fall. There are some records carved in stone, and we do study them as much as any focus of history. But I fear we may never answer the one question everyone wants to know, who or what caused The Fall?

Some suggest Avatars caused the cataclysm in their hubris, others think they may have caused it desperately to wipe out some evil that had spread. Others think it is absurd to suggest any person could control celestial bodies.

We want to know both because we want to make sure the guilty parties are held accountable, and we need to be reassured it can’t happen again. I can offer you assurances on the former if not the latter.

In the Age of Survival, everyone suffered. If there was any one person or group of people who smashed the moons together and made the sky bleed dangerous shards of Daedalus, then it is very likely they suffered the same horrific fate as everyone else.

The cataclysm wasn’t merely one moment but a prolonged period of suffering and anarchy. When the sky literally falls, no one imagines they have long to live. Some died quickly as cities burned and the earth shook. Others waited in abject terror for a slower death as civilization crumbled.

Bandits attacked brazenly with no one to stop them, taking for themselves at the expense of helpless families all across Novia. In some ways we know even less of the years right after The Fall. Before, scholars still had reason to record history with the belief life on this world would continue.

But continue it did. Some took to the underground, finding old tunnels. They were expanded in some places, creating a system of catacombs. Agriculture was nearly non-existent, but at least shards of Daedalus didn’t rain down on people in the catacombs. They were hidden from the anarchy and destruction above.

But death did not come for everyone. People emerged from the catacombs or boarded up homes when starvation forced them to. At times these frightened survivors ran into each other and suddenly realized they weren’t all alone. At other times they ran into warlords organizing the bandits. They began to realize that looting would only get you so far.

For humanity to survive they needed people to return to the fields. But who would they work for? Where would their food go? Who would protect them or rule over them? Various warlords were power hungry as well.