Edge of Midnight | Ep. 17 | Haunting Memories
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Welcome to Legends of Avantris. I'm Briggs the Cutlasscratch, you have heard of me, haven't you? And you're listening to Edge of Midnight. Here's what happened last time. You hear a gasp of air from Farron as her eyes roll back in her head. Roving mobs on the hunt for witches. The Archbishop will be leading a large ceremony and a speech tomorrow evening. And Flora...

Maggie McDuff's familiar. You're going to have to create some kind of soul talisman or something? Each of you is linked to a sin. We call to our watchers to protect and to provide. Allow us not to be enthralled by others.

They are within us. They are power. With them, we are one. Although this is a land of death and mist, there is still power in this land. It can help protect you against the might of the abyss by flowing through you and bringing out the dark gifts that are upon you all. But only if you let it.

Anyone as old as I am knows that power can come from all sorts of places. There's power in death, sure enough, especially in a misty place like this. There's power in the heavens, as the folks of Fullsense cling to so desperately. There's power in the hells, as our disembodied heroes have learned all too well. And while it ain't as flashy, there's also power in the land.

Some folk call it the elements, some folk call it the old ways, but whatever you call it, it's strong. And it may just be the only thing that can steal these folk tale protagonists from the sin that might be sure to consume them. The land is talking, but will they listen? That's the question.

Following the conclusion of the ritual of the old ways, all six candles are snuffed out in unison, and the darkness of the void swallows you. In an instance, your consciousness is ripped almost violently downward. Darkness surrounds you and you feel as if you're falling, floating, knowing for certain that your senses are no longer within the abandoned house of Keziah Jenkins.

As you feel your spirits descend deeper and deeper into the earth, there is a faint shimmer of light below you that grows larger and larger until finally taking shape into the form of a spectral rabbit. As it dances downward, it shimmers between blue, green, purple, yellow, black, and white. Suddenly, the rabbit stops. The elemental animal spirit lands gently on solid ground and you all do the same, the space around you now illuminated by the glow of this creature.

The air swirls around you, and it's hard to tell if you are underground or in the darkest of forests. But all the same, you now realize that there is a heavy fog that has rolled in all around you, pressing in upon you.

You look around at each other, at your friends, all washed in the faint glow of those six colors as the fog shifts and dances in tandem with you. It takes on the same hues as the rapid. After just a moment, your spirit guide speaks. Although this is a land of death and mist, there's still power in this land.

The magic of the old ways runs through every living and dead thing in Druskinvald as it does in all of you. It can help protect you against the might of the Abyss by flowing through you and bringing out the dark gifts that are upon you all. But only if you let it. To begin your journey, you must speak the name of the one who has your soul and take the first step. Who will be first? I'll step forward.

Immediately ready to proudly announce the one who has my soul. Are you sure you want to do this, Lethika? It's so spooky here with all this mist. I am sure, yes.

Alright, well if you're sure, just hold on, let me get down to your part in my notes. You might be at the very bottom, so it could take a while. Maybe we should talk a bit before you make this decision. Okay, so I only know how to do this like a little bit because you remember, it really isn't my thing. I'm a familiar. I'm not a witch. I'm not a vorist.

I'm not a practitioner of the old ways, I'm just an enormous spectral bunny in all kinds of fun colors. Ooh, look at me. Look at me, oh, I shifted. Oh, purple now, meant to be purple, not red. Look at me. Wow. Sorry, I got distracted. Are you sure you're ready for this? You're not scared? Not even a little bit?

I can be scared and also find bravery in that fear. We will get through this together, I promise you. Okay. Well, uh, uh, Miss Flor, if I may call you that, uh, uh, what is exactly gonna happen to us if we go on said strange magical journey? Oh, I guess we probably should talk about this before any of you start speaking names of things that own your souls. How

begin with. What were you thinking? Oh, I'm sorry. I got scared for you. You're my friends now. No, you raised a very valid voice. Oh, what will happen? So, what Maggie told me was this. That the power that you're talking about, that you told her about, is super, super strong. That it's been through the city and it's been controlling all the people.

get closer and closer to these things, these conduits, there's going to be nothing, not even your strength of will that can stop you from being consumed by your sins. And you would be mindless thralls just like everyone else. And so we're here because we're hoping

Oh, gosh. Pretty sure. And it was definitely purple, not red.

Oh no, what if I brought the wrong candle? I grimace. Well, she says she'll go first, so, you know, let's see what happens. Okay, um...

I guess. And you watch as Flora looks around the area and it is just, you feel your feet on solid ground, but all around you is nothing but swirling mists. And it's almost as if you're just in a small enclosure. You feel the mists wisp around and press in on you. And every time it swirls around your arms, you feel a faint chill, like the cold chill of death.

But they don't linger long as they're pushed back towards the outside and you are kept here in this circle. Um, well, I think

You're just supposed to stand in the middle of everyone, say the name of that which has your soul, and then you'll be granted the boon if our ritual worked and we had the right candles and we used the right stuff to make the poultice and everyone drank the right amount. Otherwise, you might be torn into bits and thrown into the mist to be feasted on by the angry entities that live therein.

So, are you ready to go? Well, I don't know if you heard, I guess it was technically your ritual, but I don't know if you heard, but Miss Lethika here is the keeper of the spaces in between. The keeper of the what? The what's it? Of the spaces in between. Yes.

Oh no, I remember it. I chanted with you. I screwed it up. I'm just here. What if when I messed up the words? Oh no. Are you sure you want to go first? I messed up the words. It matters not to me the order.

Neither. If I should be torn apart in this strange land, I will still be grateful for the life that I have been given by the one who owns my soul. Okay. You're ready to see Lethika torn apart or not? Yeah. Sure. I mean, that's so much scarier than it is. I'm sorry. I'm just freaking out. I've never had this much responsibility on my part.

little rabbit legs before. My ears are twitching. My nose is cold. I'll bend down and I will give her a quick embrace. Oh, I like that so much. It will be okay, Flora. You've done everything you can. Do not carry this weight alone. Maggie told me that you could do it. I need not worry. But I like you now. So, I can't help it. Have faith. Okay.

and stand in the middle, and with purpose and gumption, speak the name, and everybody else hush, including me. I'll step forward into the middle of the circle and touch my face, remembering that the sensation is a little unusual. I'm not wearing my mask during this strange ritual. I'll look up at the

What I can only assume is the sky is as gray and fog-like as the... It's almost like a dome of mist surrounding it. And you can see a bit through it that there are bits of what appear to be gnarled trees, but it looks like mist, and it's hard to tell if it's an ancient forest or a dome of mist, or if it's mist masquerading as a forest. It's ever-changing and moving, but it's unsettling.

I will push that thought out of my mind, try to settle and center myself, look into the eyes of the people I'm starting to become friends with, call allies. The one who owns my soul goes by many names. The Mistress of the Night, Nightbringer, Night Singer, Singer of Eternal Night, the Dark Lady, the Lady of Loss, Mistress of Pain.

But I speak now her true name in the hopes that she will aid me and guide me through. For it is said among us Sharans to have faith, and that those who do will reap her dark reward. Shar.

You easily speak the true name of the goddess you've served for years, and the fog around you shifts from soft gray to darker and darker until it turns pitch black, almost like smoke. And as it consumes all of you, you actually do start to smell smoke. The stench gets stronger and stronger until it's nearly overwhelming.

It begins to part, but just barely, and what you see is nothing more than a silhouette that is accompanied by an agonizing wailing, crumpled to the ground before you as a drow woman, her face obscured by long and messy white hair as she weeps deeply and loudly in pure sorrow beside the smoldering foundation of what had once presumably been a building of some kind.

Then, as the fog and the smoke begin to clear, as if revealing a memory, just like the times before in this strange land, the entire scene glows with the midnight blues and purples of twilight as a low droning bell tolls along with a wordless song sung by a feminine voice. And then the hues of the evening get darker and darker until everything is swallowed by sheer and utter darkness of night, and you see absolutely nothing.

Oh, is this what's supposed to happen? What was that? Something happened. There was a woman screaming and a building burning and I still smell smoke.

Is this like a thing happening right now, or is this like a Lethica-specific memory kind of thing? You're all experiencing this. So you all were standing there watching as all of a sudden the mist faded. Right. You saw a woman who, I would say it is very clear, was Lethica, crumpled to the ground, screaming and wailing in agony as she looked up at a building burning in front of her.

And just as it's what appeared to be a memory start to form a cacophonous, or not a cacophonous, but the soft singing of a woman's voice begins to reverberate in your ears as all of a sudden the mist starts to roll in, but it's not mist, it's pure darkness, as if it's stopping that memory from forming for some reason. And now, instead of the memory completing, like...

Flora clearly seems to think it should have. You're now standing in nothing but pitch blackness. There's no fog around you, there are no shadows of trees, there's nothing but pure darkness and void. Lethka, was that you? Or has that not yet happened? I do not know the answer. But if I had to guess, I would say it is...

from my past. - Lethika, you have no memory of that moment. You don't remember a time when you were kneeling and screaming and crying in front of a fire. But you do have one memory, a memory that returned to you after death. The smell of smoke, that exact same smell that assailed all of your nostrils is unmistakable. You've smelled smoke before, but that specific wood that was burning,

and somewhere deep within it the smell of burning flesh that you remember the rest of the scene is completely clouded and fogged but that smell can be none other than the one that has been haunting your memories since your death in druskinville miss flora if i'm understanding correctly this is supposed to be a memory but now it's all just dark well

What Maggie told me was that you were going to have to face your demons to face the demons. And so she said that could manifest in memories or in other things, but she wasn't quite sure. It really depends on each of your individual souls and the link that you have with the entity. And I wasn't supposed to tell you until we got in here, lest you try to think of ways to avoid things.

Rats. What? And so, she didn't say anything about being stuck in just the realm of pure darkness with nothing happening? I have a theory that I should not have gone first. We have no way of knowing what we should be doing. And these memories, I had thought them destroyed. Wait, destroyed? When you hit your head or something? Like, got amnesia?

And as you say those words,

With the blackness of the night and the blackness of the fog, you cannot tell where one force ends and the other begins, but slowly, so slowly, some light does begin to return. You are able to see the building plume of fog as they finally part once more to the interior of a small church beneath a moonless sky that hangs quietly over Striga, and before you is a similar sight to the vision you just witnessed.

A drow woman, the same drow woman, kneels once more. However, her hair is no longer disheveled by sorrow, she does not weep, and it is quiet as the dead of night. Her once frail body is now shrouded by a dark cloak as she is surrounded by masked elders of various sizes and statures.

In this brief moment, having emerged from darkness following the holiest of rituals on the holiest of days for the clergy of Shar, the woman, who is now Lethika Nightborne, steps downward. Her face still shrouded in shadow as the cultists that surround her sing a song of surprising beauty.

At the center of this dark chamber you see a shock of white before the kneeling drow. A pure white mask of pristine craftsmanship rests perfectly still on a small stand before Lethika as her thoughts, now entirely in the present, return to her. You could say that this was when I was born. This is my earliest true memory now. Centuries ago. What, you forgot everything before this moment?

Yes and no. Shar was gracious enough to take, there is a reason she is called the Lady of Loss, some terrible grief that was holding me back from living, being. But I still know I am a drow, a dark elf. I have...

The understanding of what it is like to hunt in the Underdark. Songs that I used to know. But I do not have the syntax. The why and the context of how to put those pieces together. I do not want to. I see. It must have been something really painful for you to want to do that to yourself. I had thought that I had escaped it.

If we must confront it now, I... I do not know what will happen to me. But... Well, seems like perhaps... Since the twilight came in as... We were starting to smell that smoke that... Something stopped us... From going back that far. Yes, this smoke...

Felt very familiar. I would say, Lethika, roll a religion check for me. And at advantage. Ooh! Oh! Sway! Oof. Nine. Oh.

Um, I would say Jericho's words ring true to you. Um, you know what? Fuck it. I'm just going to tell you this on the DM and I want you to have this information. And that's, I, I, the DC was fine. The DC was fine. Um,

I would say your connection with Shar, the fact that you had just done this ritual, you were the first to stand up holding true to some of your tenets, your bravery, you feel her presence. And as you look up, you see that the mist that had returned to swirling around, but almost like a blanket, almost like a warming blanket, is the emptiness of a night without stars.

And it becomes clear to you that that darkness that you were in, that Flora was so afraid of, was nothing to be afraid of. That this ritual tried to probe into those memories that Shar had taken from you. That Shar had blessed you with forgetting. And she came in to protect you from them and put a stop to that moment. And it was your faith that allowed you to continue.

But she is ever watching and ever present in this moment, like a blanket protecting you. Of course. Thank you, Char. Sorry. Fucking long-sense twist of the purple and fucking fierce fall. Thank you, Char. Cloak us in your darkness. I think everything is going to be okay. The fact that we did not see what happened to me means...

that I am protected, that Shar is still with me. So is that it? Is that the boon? Did, when I turned to the rabbit, did he get it? Is he done? The image hasn't gone anywhere. And as you look through the mist, you see that there is that image of Shar standing there almost in complete stasis. Or not Shar, sorry, Lethica, standing there. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!

No, that doesn't happen. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. What are you, Iris? That's one of my favorite quotes from all the time we've ever played. But no, you all see as this image of Lethika is there in front of you, staring at the mask. If for some reason you are forced to face this grief...

You will not do it alone. We'll be here for you. And hopefully, if these memories, even if they are unwanted, do return to you, you may be able to grow and learn from them. I can't imagine a past that I couldn't remember, that I couldn't grow and change from. I am told that I was a broken creature, inconsolable for years before I received this blessing. I hope I do not have to face

What is behind that darkness? But I hear your words. And I'll just put my hand on Lethika's shoulder in a reassuring squeeze. Perhaps it is only right that I return my vestige.

I'll reach into my bag to see if I can pull out my current modern mask, even though I think in this moment I'm staring at the frozen image of that mask. Do I feel compelled to grab that one, or am I... As you reach to grab your mask, you see that your mask is no longer at your side. But as you look towards the image in front of you, though most of it seems incorporeal, the mask does not. A gift. As pristine as...

The day I first saw it. I'll stride forward and I guess I'm looking at a double of myself. I will turn the mask so that it faces me and place it onto my face. I wear this so that I may console others, so that I can show them an unbiased vision, so that they may

be relieved by grief in their own way, so that I may aid them the way I have been aided by Shar. The night song that follows the completion of this holy ritual emanates through the chamber as Lethika Nightborne stands tall, her familiar blank facade almost staying directly at all of you. And then things begin to change. In the decades that follow, the word of Shar is spread across Striga.

but is not met with open arms everywhere. While Lethika's work as a missionary continues fervently, the scene finally settles once more in a night church, but this one has been recently erected.

Although it is the dead of night once more, you can see the shimmering light of a bright moon overhead and it casts its milk-like hue across dozens of robed figures who stand and face each other in this place of sharan worship. However, none of these are followers of the Night Singer. Silver-robed Raven Queen acolytes withdraw their glinting talon daggers as they stand before cultists, but not the ones they had been expecting.

Hooded and twisted servants of Demogorgon, with faux second heads affixed to their shoulders, unleash their barbed two-pronged whips. Both have come to stomp out the Darkcloaks who have gained power in this stricken city, and neither could have foreseen that they'd not find the masked worshippers they were seeking to slaughter.

As the two forces of death and chaos look about the church uneasily, realizing too late that they've walked into a trap, you see ever so faintly the form of Lethika Nightborne lurking in the shadows. Although her face is concealed behind a mask, you know that right now she is smiling. You watch as the image freezes, as...

This moment feels so strange, Lethika putting on the mask, explaining its meaning as you all travel through time, through the mist, through history, through the story of Lethika's life to this moment where she stands poised, knowing that her deceit has worked, that she has thwarted both of these groups of cultists, that she is one, and though you can't see the smile on her face in the image,

You can tell that the Lethika standing next to you is smiling, that she remembers this moment. Would you say she's proud? I would say she's very proud. Oh, jeez. Beautiful, isn't it? I remember it well. We put so much time and effort into its construction. It was a shame what had to happen next, this Fane of Shar. I would do it again gladly.

I will. So those... But why? These people follow false gods, evil gods. They have done terrible things to this city. It is a good deed to rid them of this world. I don't like killing. Sometimes it is necessary. Oh, so you're gonna kill all these guys? I put my foot up onto a rock, and you can see that it's attached to a rope.

connected to one of the beams that holds up the roof of this place. All I need to do is push the rock off and... Not yet. No. What was your question? Well, I mean, I guess we're gonna get there. Maybe I can... No! We can't rush this. Maggie said if we take this too quickly, then we can unleash chaos. We are walking a very fine line. There's more to this moment than just the death of these people. The why's, the how's.

the whodunnits the Colonel Mustards well I'd I'd done it I was gonna say that I didn't think you'd done it I did it in the church with the stone connected to the beam I didn't even know that was an option what were you gonna

Well, I guess my point is that, wait, so I just want to make sure I'm understanding this, and maybe I'm just curious, but so these are other worshipy top guys, and they are all trying to come and kill you, but you got the upper hand. Yes. So, is it clear that, did some of them have two heads? They had faux two heads. It's almost as if they'd created a fake one in the image of that which they worship. Like a paper machine. Dang.

Oh, paper clay for sure. That's disgusting. I love them, Gorgon. That's fucking crazy. Anyway, I guess we'll just wait to see what happens. Well, we cannot rush. Why do they want to kill the Sharans? Why do they want to kill you? We had begun to see momentum, inertia within the city. More and more, we were turning hearts and minds towards Shar. Is Shar bad?

Some say that she is. Oh. But I will tell you a secret. Why comes? I tell you now all something that only Sharans know in good faith. There is much myth, rumor, stories surrounding Shar herself. That she is an evil god.

That to become a priestess like me, you must kill a priestess of Saluna, for example. We still hate her, but we do not have to take such evil acts to ascend within the church. So you didn't have to kill a priestess of Saluna? No. Oh, Fynda. Hate's a pretty strong word, don't you think? Hate? Yes. We can get into that another time.

And why do you keep spitting with your mask on? What's it like in there? It's like the inside of a clarinet when a kid's played it when I'm like three years of school now. Fucking kill me. You would have assumed that... I just smelled that. Yeah.

But it is a ruse, this evilness. The way to invite in creatures and monsters who would otherwise worship evil gods that might give them succor, to give them attention, to bless them with their evil gifts. Those who are evil who worship Shaar never succeed in life. They are damned. We must maintain this idea of evilness.

But it is not the heart of Shar that I know of. Well, I'm sure these folk deserve to die. You said that with such confidence, Serica. I mean, look at that one right over there. He's got a goose head on his neck. That one you're pointing to? Yes, he killed a friend of mine out in an open square.

Gosh, how did he do that? He ran him through with his dagger and let his intestine spill out onto the heart back. These are not good men and women. Well, and all those raven people, they all got knives. Like, we have curved knives, but... Oh, gosh. Do you think they got themselves a gross raven like I got a gross crow? It is extremely likely. Oh, gosh.

I saw these gross birds. There's too many of them. This was a great victory for Sharan's, for myself. I remember feeling pride, great joy that I would serve Sharan in this moment. A coup, a shift of power, allowing the Church of Sharan to spread and for her... for her generosity to grow.

For people to feel relief from pain. Really? I mean, that's a... That's nice. I don't want anyone to feel pain. I guess I get it a little. I do not want anyone to feel pain either. But sometimes that means the end for them. I say now what I said then.

She is, was, and always will be. I will move to kick the rock off and allow it to swing to break the beam and allow the church to crush down. We will be safe here. The screams of the cultists of both the Raven Queen and the Demogorgons scream for only a moment as the large stones of the newly erected church crush them all.

Lethika emerges from the rubble, having made a great sacrifice, but one that would be well worth it. With the two major competitors out of the way, the word of Shar will spread faster than ever and the Darkcloak numbers will grow until the city's true master would be the Night Singer herself. Immediately, the vision fades and the black fog resonates with the sound of a feminine voice singing a song of night, and you feel the power of the Lady of Loss well inside you more than it ever has before.

It takes but a moment for the dust to settle. You find yourself once again in that strange, misty grove of mist or tree or both. The sound of shar, the sound of singing still echoing throughout the dome around you. Oh, is that it? How do you feel? I have never been so complete. It just gets exciting.

Excellent timing. Go! Complete. You said that there would be an artifact, some talisman. I do not see anything, but perhaps this feeling is what we are looking for. You look as Flora is shifting in colors. She...

Yep.

I think so. Whoa, this is making me dizzy. And she lets go. Our colors begin to shift once more to all of your colors. Well, you did it. That's kind of cool. Lethika, have you become the Watcher of the Void? Yep. Oh, gosh. I wouldn't be Watcher of all these things. Oh. And the Guardians. Oh, wow.

The space between? That is where I will call my home. Do you... do you have that power then? The power to take grief from those who ask for it? The power to erase memories? It is a burden. I don't erase them. I take them and carry them myself. I see.

That's mighty noble of a thing to do. That's a really heavy burden to carry. That sounds awful. You and Jorgren have a lot in common, carrying burdens. Where he is strong in body, you're very strong in mind. I see strength in both ways.

Yes, but you don't have giant rippling muscles like that. He could rip a tree in two. No, I meant I was not strong, but that also Yorgrim has a good strong mind. Oh, I totes know that. Yes, thank you. He's so strong he can probably kill 200 peasants in the line of single fire. They could probably line up side by side. It depends on your action economy. Anyways...

So, that was kinda crazy. Yeah? Yes. How do you feel? I know it's gonna suck, cause, I mean, that was really cool. We can't really rush into another one of those right now, though.

Maggie said there has to be a little bit of a waiting period between them, lest you rip a hole in the something of the something and let things in. Things... What was it? Something about night? But I don't think it had to do with Char. That seems pretty serious. Yep. Maybe she meant night with a K. It's a common misunderstanding. Oh, like Marius!

I don't think that's what she meant. Yeah, no, me either. It sounded much more ominous and scary, like bad things would happen. Um, well, uh, Miss Flora? Yep, that's me.

May I ask if you know, I feel like we fell down a rabbit hole. Yeah. But may I ask where we are? I mean, literally and figuratively. Where are we exactly? Because I've been in spooky, mystical other realms and talking strange, not saying that you're strange, but strange folk and creatures. And it ain't pleasant. Are we in like a safe good place?

Cut off all the area? I don't know. Basically, probably, most likely right now. But if we try to rush things, then what's going to happen is the fabric of this, you see how it's misty and not fully corporeal? It could be torn. Right. And whatever lurks beyond it would come in.

And she said if that happened, that would be the worst case scenario. Even worse than you being ripped apart and torn into soul dust and thrown out into the mist to be devoured by those that walk within the mist. I mean, that sounds pretty bad. I know! So can you imagine what is lurking beyond this amazing protective bubble that our magics created for us?

Which is pretty cool. We'll take our time. I guess that purple candle worked. To follow up on Jericho's question, are we still in Droskenwald or somewhere else? I think so. Because, so the magic that we're using is the magic of the land itself. So we can only do with and pull from that which is made of the land. Interesting. We'd have to be part of it.

What part of it, I don't know, but somewhere deep. That makes sense. To me, at least. Well, yeah, no, and I believe that at least if Lord Phillip is telling the truth, we're all trapped here. I also don't think that I can leave Draskinville without Maggie. And so if I'm still here, I must be in the same plane of existence as Maggie. This is time to reason. Let it go.

Oh, and Derek, please take an inspiration. Thank you. Do you have any idea why you would cry? That sure looks sad. I have no idea. I can't even tell you my original name. I received the name Lethika on that night when I went through the ritual of oblivion. So that's like your...

Well, it's still your name, because that's what we call you. That's all a name really is, I suppose. I will tell you one more thing. When I died during our fight with this hag, I went through that experience I told you of, when I was floating through some great night sky, heard a voice. Since then, the smell of smoke has welled up inside me like some sadness trying to break free.

I worry that if I should go again, I might have to confront everything I have tried to shed from me. We won't let that happen. We'll protect you like you've always protected us, and we'll continue to do that and make sure that nothing bad happens to any of us. Look at the mist.

And you notice that when you came back, the mist was a little bit lighter. You could see the shapes of what almost looked like a dark, looming forest much more clearly on the fringes. But now you see that the mist is thickening and thickening as it begins to surround you. I think when it fully covers us, it means we're protected again and we can go again. So you should decide who wants to do it. But don't say it yet.

Don't say your name, because it's still open. But who wants to go? This is exciting. I mean, does anyone feel real strongly about it?

You were the first to speak up. Please, by all means. I'm just asking. Does anyone want to go next? It sounds like you're volunteering. It just seems pretty cool. Look at how invigorating she is. I feel focused. You feel like you could kill seven Baelor's sin within the bottom of a cathedral in a city that's being wrecked by lascivious acts? With the help of my allies, yes. Right on! That's all well and good, huh?

but I do have some slight reservations. What are they? Well, Lethika here, the person who owns her soul is her god. I was going to say the same. That is not the case for me. The founder does not have my soul, and I'm not exactly eager to feel invigorated by this other entity. I don't want to diminish your great courage there, Miss Lethika, but it is a little bit harder perhaps for some of us.

I am sure that that is true. I mean, that's a good point. I mean, am I inviting bad luck to me? Is he going to show up and be like, get fucked! I don't know, make all of my chunks fall out? I did feel a presence of Char during our journey. You should be prepared for this possibility. Are you scared? A little bit.

Maybe I don't want to go second. So you don't think the Elven Mark would be as pleasant as what happened in Lepica? Highly unlikely. So bad things own your soul, not gods that are sometimes thought of as bad but do good things? I guess it depends who you ask. Oh. I'm gonna go. I'm just gonna get out of the way.

Look, I'm gonna do it, all right? I admire your bravery, Briggs. All right. Okay, well, we still got a little bit of time up there, so... While I'm cracking my fingers, one of my fingers falls off. And I grab it and I stick it back on. All right, so what do I do? I'll just say his name? Well, not until we've been given the okay. We don't want this veil to be pierced.

Once the veil is around us, you should stand in the center of the circle as I did. All right, ma'am. Okay, here we go. And I'll step into the center of the circle. Everyone take a step back to watch out for the tail. Okay, I think we're probably good. I don't know rightfully now, but it looks a rough approximation of how it looked when we got here, when we rode Lethika's mind, so...

Alright, and I'll just say his name? You just step into the circle and you say his name, and... I'm gonna fuck this up. We all don't say anything. That includes me. And we'll see what happens. Okay, and we're ready to do this? Like, it's time now, like right now. I mean, there's no time like the present, they say sometimes. And there's certainly no going back. We're stuck here. Alright. Well, he's got a lot of names.

some of which I don't know and others of which I can't pronounce, but I know a maze. Mr. Crossroads. - As you speak the one name that you can actually pronounce of the misfortunate friend you've made on the other side, the fog around you shifts to a faint blue glow. And as soon as you take that first step on your journey, the fog opens up and we're all in a bustling port city built on a river delta. - Can you hear this music?

While the deserts of Nekbet stretch out for miles not too far away, this city, predominantly populated by crocodilian lizardfolk, has known nothing but bountiful fishing, farming, and trade for generations. Life is good here, and even peaceful. But that also makes things boring, especially for a young croc who scampers through the bustling streets, trying out and getting tired of every type of honest job that was available.

Then, you see the extreme boredom on the young Briggs' face melt away when he finally finds a source of income that brings him true exhilaration, namely stealing or conning whatever coinage that came to him. What a scam. As time passes, you see that the clearly not undead lizardfolk has many scrapes with the law enforcement authorities, but proves to be quite slippery and never stays in prison for long, even after the few times he was actually caught.

And while Briggsie would brag about his skill at the local taverns following a big score, it is clear to you that for the most part, he is just supremely lucky. Then, on one night following a particularly boastful yarn, Briggsie is approached by a stranger, salty, graying, and battle-scarred. He asks the young crocodile if he is comfortable being a petty thief for the rest of his life, or does he seek greater fortunes and a more exciting life?

He says he's a smuggler and the following morning he will be shipping off to Plunder Post, one of the numerous pirate havens along the Isles of Plenty, and he's looking for crew members who will work for Cheap. Smelling of stale tobacco and cheap rum, the man flashes a jagged grin flecked with gold teeth and extends his hand.

Do I see myself? You see yourself. It freezes just like in Lethica's, where this man is reaching his hand out to Briggsie. Young, clearly alive Briggsie is looking up at him and seeing the sun glint on those gold teeth in his mouth. Look at you. You were whole. I remember. No chunks, no fingers falling out. I remember that feeling well.

Yeah, yeah, me too. It'd be nice to go back to those days. Simple, simple life, you know. It's so bright there. It looks like it's warm too. Oh, it's very warm. Is that what the sun looks like? Yes, I mean, that's what the sun is. It's bright as hell, where I'm from anyway. Never seen it before.

I can barely see anything. I mean, let me tell you, the streets of Renwick, they were us poor fucks there, but plenty to steal from. And it was a simple life being a common thief. And, you know, young strapping lad like that.

Has lots of ambitions, you know. But now that I'm older and much wiser... Would you make that deal again? To sail away? Yeah. From me home? Yeah, to go on those adventures you talked about and make tons of money and stuff.

You know, I probably would. 'Cause it's a lot of money. I mean, a lot of things too. I mean, you don't just steal gold. You're just saying that now you're older and wiser, you'd make different choices? Yeah, but I'm not sure. But not that one. I mean, it's a thing. It feels nice. A simple life of like not worrying about any of this shit. You mean... the chunks? Well, I don't want to mean the chunks, but I mean everything else. I wanna see... It's dangerous stealing from ships.

Is the sea dangerous? Yes, it's dangerous. I mean... I've only been on a ghost train. It's nothing like a ghost train. Oh, gosh. It's... I mean, you could... You could capsize. You could be taken out by a fucking sea eagle vessel. You could be slaughtered, stabbed in the back by your own crewmates. Really, it's dangerous around every turn.

That being said, I mean, you know, if you were to give me the choice at that age, right there, if I could go back, but I'd be that guy right there, I'd probably do the same thing. I'm about to, I'm going to shake that man's hand.

I'd probably do it again. I suppose you can't change anything now. You're right. I'm the bad guy. He's more of a, you know, hypothetical. Try not to think too much about those hypotheticals, you know? I mean, what was wrong with you sweeping that broom in that general store? You look mighty. I mean, you look bored, but at least you were safe. You were really cute when you were young, though. Well, I was, you know, I was whole. I was like a living bee.

I could actually sleep and taste and I could smell clearly that stale tobacco and old rum. And at the time it was the greatest fucking smell I could imagine.

The salty old Z-Dog was a great smell that you ever imagined. Am I? No, I'm not misunderstanding what you're saying. Okay. No, I mean, I wanted to be that guy. I mean, look at him. He's old and he's weathered and he's got enough money to pay for some nice pot tobacco and he's got money to drink rum as much as he wants. You cannot smell it now, even in your own memory.

You cannot. That makes sense. So we smell it, but he doesn't. Oh, man, that's brutal. Jeez. Anyways, we should probably get on with this fucking thing. I find myself for the first time wishing I could give a memory. Oh, I mean, that's really nice. Can you figure out how to reverse engineer that sort of thing? I will prey on it.

Reverse what? Like reverse... Artifice? I don't know. I look at Flora and I'll say, do I have to do anything?

I guess you shake his hand. Oh! Oh, because they're frozen. Yeah. So I'll walk up and I'll sort of like squeeze between. You don't even need to squeeze between. You can feel that the Briggsie that's standing here is incorporeal. And you almost feel inclined to stand where he's standing. And you'll watch as Briggsie melds with this alive Briggsie. And it's almost like seeing them in two.

Almost like a double vision. Undead and alive, as you do. I'll reach out my hand and I'll shake his.

The gold-toothed stranger vigorously shakes Briggsie's hand and suddenly years of piracy and plunder pass, and the setting changes to a large clearing in a jungle valley many miles inland on the continent of Chalk, in the dead of night, with not a single soul in sight beyond a gaudily dressed crocodilian pirate with a meager normal-sized cutlass by his side.

He stands at the crossing of two small dirt roads, the intersection of which is marked by a strange gateway with which a lantern hangs that flickers with an eerie glow that's far too red to be a normal flame.

Riggsie had heard the rumors, the whispers, and the warnings about Loa of all variety in his travels across the seas of Avantras, but this is the first time he's actually tried to contact one. The lizardfolk pirate stares up at the flickering light and mutters about him following the cliche of so many songs and stories about going down to the crossroads. He looks around nervously for a moment, as if he feels eyes watching him, but no one seems to be there.

Slowly and cautiously, Briggsie pulls out a brown bottle of rum and a dirty glass from his oversized coat. With a snap of his powerful jaws and a yank, he bites the cork off the bottle and fills it to the brim with the potent spiced liquor.

Fumbling with a match, he nervously lights it, his scaled hand trembling and almost dropping the flame to the ground. However, after a moment, he steals himself temporarily and ignites the flammable liquid, placing the blazing glass of rum at the center of the crossroads, directly beneath the hanging lantern.

Briggsie steps back and waits, thinking that the ritual had failed. And then suddenly a pair of neon red fire erupts from the lantern in the glass of rum simultaneously, immediately filling the previously empty gateway and smelling strongly of hot iron. A moment later, the mournful wail of sliding string music fills the air and a young man with razor-sharp teeth and a forked tongue steps out of the inferno.

He wears a fine red suit with signposts nailed into the fabric and a broad-brimmed hat lined with flickering red candles. He introduces himself as Mr. Crossroads and promises to change Briggsley's fortunes, provide him an immortal crew of the dead and the black magic sorcery he could use to become a feared pirate captain. All he has to do is shake the poor sinner's hand.

A lot of handshaking, you can see. In a pirate's life, you know. Do you have some power when you shake a hand? Well, I mean, it's... You know, the respectable type such as myself is... You know, you make a deal. I just wanted to know if there was something I should be worried about. I mean, any time you shake a bloke's hand, what offers you a deal, you should understand what you're getting yourself into.

Did you know what you were getting yourself into by shaking that there fella's hand? Surely this is the moment you would change? I mean, I was changed, certainly. I became very powerful, you understand. You know, a pirate with just a cutlass is a lot of, you know, a little outmatched by a pirate with one of these. I'll pull out my focus.

Um... And, uh... And I'll turn to Flora, and I'll say, uh... And I gotta shake his hand again. I don't know. It's not him, right? It's more like just an image. I don't know. Fuck. And if it is, what are you going to do? See...

this is what he does he he just he's tricksy let me tell you he loves to play tricks and so this could all be some elaborate trickies to get me to shake his hand again to make some other deal and then maybe all my teeth will fall out maybe i want to have eyeballs i don't know it is like a game of facing coins

I don't know what that is. It's a simple game. If you show heads and I show heads, then you lose. But if you show heads and I show tails, it is a game of out-guessing one another. That's right. But I mean, I think we know that we can't really get out of this place, so... Where? Why did you light the room on fire? I mean, I've seen you done that before. Is that because of your fella here? I mean, yeah, it's what he likes. He likes...

and it's fucking on fire and that's me. That's what he's into. It's like a dude from the elf. A dude's like an idiot. And I'll shoot him. You shoot the Eldritch Blast and the images of Mr. Crossroads and Briggsie dissipate for just a second and then coalesce back into their forms. Be careful, you may tear a hole.

Oh yeah, oh god, what if that thing in the darkness that's lurking beyond comes for us? I wasn't thinking. Perhaps this will tell itself, and I don't want to jump the proverbial gun, so to speak, but... Oh, yeah, that was good, Mirren. Why not light another glass of rum on fire when you realize that all of this is going awry, and bring him back and fix things? What did you do? What do you mean, fix things?

Clearly something went wrong. Couldn't you have just called on your good friend once again and fixed things? Made a new deal. That's not how that works, no. Once you make a deal, you don't go out. Never mind. Oh, can I have control? That's not how this works. Oh, good. How do you do that?

Oh, God! I don't really have lips! You're so sexy, you spit on me. I was thoroughly fooled when I was alive, I didn't have much lips. Saliva from a hole in Briggs's jaw just lobbed directly into Marius's face. Um... Once you make a deal with one of them, no more deals after that. Look, the lower, they're very powerful. Uh, and there are plenty of good lower. Crossroads. Uh, eight one of those.

He's powerful though. Did you know what you were getting yourself into? I mean, I heard his stories. I heard that this guy's not necessarily a bad dude. I mean, when you hear stories that you gotta go down to the crossroads and kinda, you know, sell your soul or... You know, I figured it was kinda figurative. I don't know what a soul is. You know, I've heard some bards go down to the crossroads and they make a deal.

And you know, all of a sudden they can play the greatest fucking tune imaginable. They can play an instrument there what never touched before. So, if I can be a better pilot, with my own crew, if I can be the captain, I mean that's, that's life changing power right there. It's worth it, to me. Or it was. And that's how you got that there voodoo. Yes. Before that I could just swing that little cup, that's right, it's right there.

See that? And I'll summon the cutlass, and it's like, you know, three, four times the size. A bit like a toothpick. You summon the cutlass, and it is the tiny, small cutlass you see in the image before you die. Oh, fuck! How do I do it? Oh, gosh. Probably a trick. It's fine. And I'll make it go away. Um...

I'll pull it back. Is it still the small cut? It's still the small cutlets that you see in the image before you. Does...

If Mr. Crossroads is standing there, is he like a handsome guy? Is he like a... He's got sharp, jagged teeth and a forked tongue. Yeah, is he like a monster? Or is he like kind of like... No, he's like... I would say that like if he's got his mouth closed, he looks pretty dapper. He looks like he'd be charming. Like he could talk his way around anything. So the teeth and the tongue are shocking. Yes. It's like very charming. Yes.

What the fuck? My favorite part are the candles on his hat. Oh, fuck yeah. That shit is so badass. Sorry, dude. He's a quick talker. He's a handsome bloke. If you can get past the sharp teeth. Some people like that sort of thing, I suppose.

All right, fuck, get this out of my way, and I'll walk up and assume my position. The moment you step into Briggsy, in this moment that the deal was made, for the first time in feels like forever, you smell the scent of rum, the scent of gunpowder, and smell-- Oh.

I'll kind of close one eye and I'll look out of another squinted eye and I'll shake his hand. You feel the hand. The memory rushes back to you. The way the skin felt. What should have been warmth but was just cold. And then the scents leave you. The feeling of his hand leaves you.

As soon as you clamp his hand, the loa before you, or sorry, as soon as Briggsie clamps the hand of the loa before him, the grinning stranger rips the rum bottle off the pirate's hand and downs the entire thing in a single swig before disappearing back into the flame of the gateway with an ominous laugh. And yet, despite how bad an omen it seemed, the lizardfolk realizes he does indeed have the voodoo that will allow him to become an infamous captain in his own right.

And so he does. And his new patron guides him by regular twists of fate that lead him to huge spoils that he spends just as fast. And it doesn't take too long until Captain Briggs the Cratch finds himself back in the jungles of Chalk, but this time within the ruins of a temple to a long-dead crocodile god, so well hidden in the overgrowth that he never would have found it if it were not for the guidance of Mr. Crossroads.

amidst the crumbling stones and snaking vines. Turn.

Amidst the crumbling stones and snaking vines, he stands before a snarling statue of the presumed god holding a massive bejeweled sword that still hums with power despite how ancient the space feels. Exhausted by the journey, having only survived thanks to the protection of his hexes and zombie crew, Briggsies eyes the best way to remove the blade from the clutches of the leering crocodilian god. Crocodilian Statue

Upon a thorough once-over, he deduces the only way to remove it is to take its hand and peel back the reptilian fingers to remove the cutlass from its ancient keeper. You stare up at the statue. You see that cutlass there. I don't have to fucking do this again. It's kind of like when you kick that stone. I wanted to kick this stone. I wanted that sword. If I can look at it. Oh, hold on. And I want to summon the cutlass and see what happens.

You summon the cutlass, and it is that small cutlass from the image before. Oh, fuck. All right, well...

Is this what a jungle is? You've never seen a jungle before? No, I really just seen a pumpkin patch and a turnip patch and a cabbage patch and a wheat field, a rye field, a corn field. Oh yes, I've never seen vegetation like this in my life and I have lived many years. No, it is tall, it's wet, it's dangerous.

And are you alive?

At this point. You mean like now now or like then now? You see an alive Briggsian. Okay, so he's not rotting. No, I mean for those years when Crossroads and I, we were real chubs. He was leading me to every score imaginable. You know, maintaining my crew and popping in the strings. It was a good time. Made a lot of gold. Spent a lot of gold.

and he convinced me this was this was it this is how i'll make a name for myself this is how i become the cutlass so there i was i found it he said oh nobody needs that sword anymore that god's long dead that civilization they're long gone it's not doing any good just sitting there in ruins you should be killing people

And I agreed, you know, it's a sword made to do, it's made to kill. So, I said, that sounds great, let's fucking go. So we went. We sailed, he led me through a very specific path through the jungle. And if I didn't follow his directions, it was almost like I ended back up to where I was. He had to tell me exactly step for step how to get to that very point.

See if it was protected by something. I trusted him. We chum. Mr. Crossroads. There I was. Santa there, and I'll sort of assume... I'll step into the form of where I was. And, uh... Okay, so I've just gotta pry it out. Perhaps this question will be answered as we progress. But did you try to return the sword? Like I said, it isn't worth it, mate.

I've tried many times to return you soon. It's no return. Ooh, it's like when you turn around and you look back and there's just no temple there, it's just a jungle. That would've been spooky. It's like when you rent a book from the library but you lose that little card in the front and then they won't take it back and they just charge you for it. Yes, those fucks. That's the worst. It's got

There's no moisture inside. It's magically wicking. Is it too late to switch to somebody else? Yes, I believe it is too late to switch to someone else. No, you gotta unlock the... Which ones were you, Brinzie? Oh, water. That stands to reason. On account of you drinking rum.

I think it's more, you know, sailing high seas. Oh, because you're a crocodile and they live in the water, I suppose. I mean, maybe. I didn't write this anyway. So he told me, go on, do it. It'll be a great idea. And so I fucking did this. And I'm going to like pry, pry the sword out.

As Brigsy grabs the hand of the dead god he would later know to be named Croxigor, he breaks off the stone fingers and greedily pries the cutlass, the blade that would grant him his pirate title from its grip. And that was the final moment he knew what it was like to be truly living. The horror that the lizardfolk experiences from the excruciating pain that overwhelms him as the primal magic curses his flesh is dwarfed only by the horror from the utter lack of feeling that followed.

He pinches his now rotting flesh and feels no touch. He wolfs down a nearby mango and cannot taste its sweet juices. He downs three bottles of rum and stays stone cold sober. Once more, the power he holds in his hands comes at a terrible cost. And as he steps to leave the temple, now as much of a living corpse as his crew, an oblong rectangular chunk of flesh falls from his ribs and slaps down onto the floor.

Immediately, the vision fades and the blue fog resonates with the sound of bluesy guitar and you feel the power of the Master of Crossroads well inside you more than it ever has before.

You find yourselves back in that same space. Trees encroaching in on you. It's now easy to see that there is a forest on the edges here that the mist is keeping out. Once again, you see the mist start to roll up, get denser and thicker as it attempts to shield you from whatever lurks beyond. And I'm going to try to summon the cutlass. You do, and it is your cutlass. Do I feel...

Similar to what Lepica described. As you feel the power of the Master Crossroads well inside you more than it ever has before. That's what I'll figure. All right, I think it worked. That reminds me of, well, it doesn't remind me of, it just came up with the song. Do you want me to touch you and see if it worked? No.

Sure. And then you can sing yourself. Okay, yeah, that'd be great. She pops over to you and she reaches up her little paw to touch for you to hold out your hand. We can shake on it. Oh. And as she shakes your hand, she begins to illuminate a brilliant blue. Almost a crystalline blue of the sea. Yep, that was way less scary than void. For what it's worth, I know that...

This Mr. Crossroads has tricked you and turned you into what you are now, but he's lending you his power currently. Seems you've worked out in your favor yet again.

I mean, he's lending me my power. And look, let's be honest. I mean, I use the power of being a horrible, walking, shambling crocodile corpse with a gigantic fucking magic sword to me benefit. I mean, you can do a lot when you've got the power that I've had. Does Mr. Crossroads still guide you to fortune or is his voice now silenced? It wasn't really like he spoke to me. He was more like...

He opened doors for me and I just walked through. If that makes sense. When it comes to sorcery like that, it's not exactly clear cut. What I do know is that he wanted me to be here. He guided me to a sea battle in my ship and right as we engaged,

Um, your whole crew dropped... ...deader. Like a pile of bones? Like a pile of rotten flesh and bones, that's right. I was imagining like just skeletons. They had like gross rotten flesh too.

I mean, they were so scaly. Were they also alligators? Well, I think it was sort of a variety of all types. I didn't really like inspect them. I tried not to like maim them or hang out. I mean, they were basically, they're just, they're just meaty puppets. But you know, sure, we had also, we had humans, there were, you know, there was maybe a genasiad too. There were some crocodile pirates. Um...

You know, it was whatever corpses I guess he could find. And then all of a sudden they all just became unanimated and me ship got blown to smithereens, I escaped on a little rowboat and then I stepped on a fucking train. So he wanted me here. That's all I know. - What does he get in return for offering you this power? - What does he get in return for me grabbing that sword? I'm sure he got something.

I don't know what it is. Well, it sounds like you got double-crossed. Yay! Do you really think that this is the time, Jericho? I guess it was perfect. He's the master of crossroads, crossbones. He got double-crossed. If I can't say it in a time like this, then what's the point of even living? It was a fine joke, Jericho.

Is that separate from your song that you just came up with? Well, gosh, now there's a lot of pressure. Yes, yes, there is, but we want to hear the song. Please, go on. The mist still hasn't filled up the dome, so what else are you going to do? We have some time to kill, if you will. Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, yeah, sure. Just don't suck. Oh, gosh, now the rabbit is even egging me on. Oh, rabbits and eggs. What are they?

Why are you saying that? I just don't know why there's a connection. How about eggs anyway? Okay. Well, I guess it's just Briggs, Briggs, Briggs in the jungle. Friends to only he.

Should I watch out for something? Is that it? No, no, no, no. He is quite chunky. And I mean the chunk, not like chunky. I mean...

Like you are of the chunk. I'm glad that finally we got the origin story of the chunk. You know, in prequels, you always want to know the origin story of certain elements. Yes, there's a sense of closure here now. Jericho, you have a really beautiful voice when you're not laughing. Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. Thank you very much. I appreciate it. I don't know if that song made sense, but it was pretty.

Well, good to know he's friend to only he, because, well, he's our friend now, but at the time, he was his only friend. Well, you don't know what friends I got. Maybe I had friends. Oh, did you? Then why didn't your friends stop you from making a horrible deal with Mr. Crossroads? Not like, I mean, you know, when your whole crew isn't really dead and they don't talk, and they sort of walk in meat puppets, you don't really socialize much, but...

You know, you meet acquaintances at taverns, various islands. I knew people. You don't know me. Oh, gosh. Well, I thought you were very offended that I didn't know you when we first met. Okay, so who wants to go next? I vote for Marius. Marius, do you want to go next?

next? I sure do. What happened to your voice? I was like, I'm just angry. Did you bite your tongue sometimes, Ryan? You got my tongue swung up and then I sound like that. Yes, it hurts. I don't want to go now.

Okay, we'll have someone else go first. You can go later. Mine's gonna be very sexual. I don't think I'm in the mood for sess- for sess- for sess- That's a boom!

I suppose I can go. So who wants to go next? I suppose I can go. Does anyone else want to go? Oh, gosh, never mind. But we just have to wait for Marius. Gosh, never mind. I can't even take a leak. I don't even know what was said. I'm really bummed I missed it. Marius sounds like this now. All right.

Can you do it for me one time? I was saying your accent. And you bit your tongue. Okay, so are you sure you're ready to do this, Jericho? Well, I suppose. I also have a song that you're involved in, Flora. Really? Can you sing that first then? Who should I sing it first? Because we're about to do my memories? Yep. Are you sure? Yep.

I think Mary is maybe. Do you want to go, Mary? Or should I go? No, you already volunteered. See, he's too big his tongue. You shouldn't go if you've bitten your tongue. He's not going to be able to say the name of his tongue, and then the thing that lurks beyond will get you.

Why don't we save the song until after I have my memory and I'll see if I feel like singing. Maybe it'll cheer me up. But what if I make you know I'm gonna sing your song and then you told me you were gonna sing a song about me but then you don't? I guess you're right. I'll take my banjo and I'll

And then I continue. One candle was purple and one candle was blue. I'm glad the potion we all drank definitely wasn't sovereign glue. We killed Mabel and her pigeon brood and

And if you go chasing Flora, you'll sing just like a shrew. Don't listen to what the grossed hag said. Cause she's dead. Cause she's dead. Cause she's dead.

Virgil! Virgil's the name! Virgil's the name! Virgil is the name! You see that Flora's just dancing back and forth, her ears are going this way and that some way right and left. She's moving her arms up and down, kicking at the floor, and then she stops. No...

You also have to be in the center of the room. Oh, that's probably exactly. And everyone was supposed to be really quiet. And you said at the end of the song, so maybe the world thinks that it was part of the song. That was really cool though. I don't know how I had anything to do about,

to do about me except probably my name in it. I mean, that's usually all you can hope for with my songs. I liked it. It was more about the situation than your response of us killing Mabel, who's also going to grave gullet with her familiar peeping Albert. Anyways. Absolutely fantastic cover of Jefferson Flight Machine. Thank you, thank you. You know, I

I knew a flat bird once named Jefferson. And he was a flight machine too, because he was a bird. Well, they called him the flat machine on account of him being so good at flying. You need to stand in the center of the room and you need to say the name. And everyone has to be quiet, including me. Okay.

I'm sorry. I stubbed my toe. It hurts a lot. Lethica, can you heal your bruised toe? It's stubbing and it hurts a lot. No, I'm fine. Thank you. I also wanted to tell you guys that I'm not really as strong as I say I am. I definitely...

Don't think that I can beat peasants in a single line. Oh, no, you look really strong. No, no, this is a time for me to come clean. This tomb may look heavy, but actually it's full of air. I stub my toe. Bluntar, ouch, gar!

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The bunny familiar of Maggie McDuff looks to Jericho and...

Well, howdy-do, miss. My name is old Jericho Sticks. You can call me Jericho. Most folk do. I suppose everybody does. My pal Virgil is the one that you're expecting me to say. You look around and nothing happens. Mm-hmm.

Oh, my worst friend Virgil, who's a weird, gross crow. You wait a moment, and the mist seems to get thicker and fully creates that dome around you, protecting you from the strange forest beyond, but nothing happens. Doesn't seem to be working. Well, I suppose y'all already know, so it ain't much harm. Just don't say it after I do. Hmm.

As you speak the true name of the dark passenger within you, your patron and prisoner, and in some ways your oldest friend, the fog around you shifts to a faint yellow glow and you take the first steps on your journey.

Fog opens before you and you find yourselves in a quaint but ramshackle hut in the middle of a dark wood. A large iron cauldron rests on the fire, bubbling with a strange brew, while various knickknacks and reagents hang from the ceilings or collect dusts on the shelves.

In the center of the hut you see a strange circle painted in blood, a macabre bit of artwork with a drizzling trail leading to a halfling man hanging by his feet, a bag over his head and his throat slit as he still drips the last of his life force into a basin beneath him. Three hunched gnarled ancient crones chant and wave their hands about as the blood runes glow.

Your eyes are drawn to the circle in what appears to be a scarecrow. Not quite as simple as the average turnip head you might see guarding the fields in this part of Yonah, but a scarecrow all the same. In a flash of fiendish orange light, the scarecrow begins to move as the three green hags who gave him life, the Oakum sisters, dance about and celebrate the success of the ritual. The scarecrow looks around confused, blinking with glowing eyes, not sure what he was meant to do or meant to be or...

Maybe even why he exists at all. The crones shriek with glee and dance about in front of a banjo that hangs on the wall, covered in strange markings of some significance. Oh, fuck! You exist before this? No, no, no, I did not. Not a very happy birthday. Well, it was happening to me at the time. Look at them. Look at how pretty they all are. You mean...

Those hags? Oh, gosh, my best gals. Those, like, horrible, hideous... Are they green hags? They're green hags. Those horrible, hideous green hags? Oh, gosh, as green as the day I left them. Well, um, this is... I'm a little concerned, Jericho. I mean, I know that you've had some darkness in your past, but this is...

Looking a little troubling. Well, how did you expect, after meeting me and learning a bit about me, that my origin might be a little bit more pleasant than what you found here, Sir Marius? To be fair, you told me that it was going to be pleasant, and I was inclined to believe you. Oh, I was being facetious. I can see that now, yes. So, um, that name you said...

We shouldn't say that. Oh no, no. Um. So who is that? Well, you know, y'all met him. He knows all of you and all the secrets of what you're sharing. This is actually quite... He's quite happy about all this. Certainly. So it's another name for Virgil. Yeah, yeah, no, that's... Yeah, that's his real demon name. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

- All right, well, you know, maybe you can sloop that out of all of our memories, Lefica, you know, so we all forget that. So we don't accidentally slay it and say it like in a sleep or something. - Just don't say it more than twice. - All right. - Well, there, so that's me. Them's my best gals and that there's that poor fellow over there.

Some mighty fine finger work he had apparently. Mighty fine banjo player. Great warbler. Warbler? He can spin a tune, that fella. And his life force is what these green hags used to animate you, to make you like yourself.

Well, him in this horrible demonic ritual, yes, yes, yes. On account of... you see the markings there, and I'll point to kind of like the runic symbol, and I'll point to the banjo, and there's a similar, if you look at the art, there's a similar runic pattern on the banjo, and it'll be very much the same. Would I recognize any of these runes, or would I feel familiar?

I would say not. I would say they might feel familiar in the sense of you saw Haggish Runic markings in the workings of the hags that you have slain, but they wouldn't be similar to ones that were familiar to you for personal reasons. Hmm. Well... Oh, yeah. No. Uh...

It's more of a, it's more of like a, like a geometric pattern almost, rather than like, like a scripted moon. And so I'll point it away again, so that, you know, notice the color there, it's a little orange, like, you know, what's got my eyes and my mouth behind this old filthy sack of my head. And Virgil's eyes, of course, and it's all kind of, it's all related.

Does this memory vision look identical to the Jericho that we know, or is the Jericho that we know, like, worn in comparison to... I'm gonna say he's probably worn in comparison. This one, he looks like he was just recently put together. Right, right. I'm probably very plump. Like, probably completely stuffed with straw. And I'm like, gosh, I used to be so strong. Well, uh...

These were my best gals. They was my true love. All three of them. You still feel this way even now? Well, of course. Why wouldn't I? Suppose they are your mothers in a way. I can see that. I don't know if I would say mothers. They was my best gals. They're all so pretty and they were so sweet to me. They taught me what true love really was.

Help me understand that a little more. What do you mean, understand true love? Well, they showed me when I would go down into them halfling towns and human towns and other folk, I would see, you know, lovebirds and all Twitter painted. And, you know, they gave me all sorts of affection and love. And that was, it was very nice for a time. And as long as I did stuff for them.

"What kind of stuff are you talking about?" "Well, I'm sure we'll find out, won't we?" "Maybe we won't. Let's hold on that fair." I'm so afraid to ask questions. "What?" "Very similarly to this demonic name that Jared Go is so graciously told us, just remember that some things can't be unlearned." "What I'm afraid of. I'm curious to know

Both of the stories that have come before, they've made a choice. This seems to have been thrust on you. What choice did you play in the matter? I think I know what I got to do. Banjo's over there. I don't got to give up.

And you do look and see that though everything else looks incorporeal, in all the previous memories that you've witnessed, everything had been completely still, completely stagnant. In this one, that's not the case. The hags continue to dance in jubilation, though they make no sound. And there, hanging on the wall, is the banjo. The room's aglow. Well, I guess it's my birthday.

Perhaps I should give myself a present so we can continue onward with perhaps being a watcher of air. Probably on account of my great singing voice. That stands to reason. Okay, thank you. I'm glad I got some validation there. I'll walk over and I will pick up the banjo. I'll try to lift it up and I'll look at the halfling and...

I'll kind of like linger on looking at the halfling and I'll feel a little sad and then I'll walk over to my past self and I'll uh... Oh no, I don't want to give it to you untuned. And I'll tune it. Uh, Garth, them sure were some pretty, pretty beautiful, kind, lovely gals but they didn't know the first thing about tuning an instrument. Uh, well, um...

Happy, happy birthday from future me to you. I wish you a happy birthday. I'm sorry your life's gonna be so blue. I hand the banjo to my pass elf.

As soon as old Jericho Sticks grips the banjo, where once there had been nothing in his heart and soul, or lack thereof, there was now at least a tune. He plucked the strings and it gave forth a beautiful sound, despite the living scarecrow only being minutes old. He now knew he was meant to be a tunesmith and spread the music he felt within him to all who would listen. And soon, that's exactly what the Oakum sisters had Jericho do.

Despite the four of them living in a dark wood, they were not far from numerous farming villages consisting mostly of halflings and humans. The sisters, whom Jericho quickly became very fond of, would send him off to be the bard he was born to be. Time passes by quickly.

Spring into summer and summer to autumn. Jericho now stands on the outskirts of a small farming village bathed in the crackling light of a bonfire on a holiday of Shantaya, goddess of the harvest. He plucks at his banjo strings and warbles a song that has generated a crowd, mostly of children.

who find the mechanical man fascinating and laughing hysterically at all of his stupid jokes. The more he sang, plucked, and joked, the more enthralled with the scarecrow they became. The night begins to wind down and suddenly many of the townsfolk have gone to bed, but Jericho still has his audience, hanging on each of his words and following all of his guidance to join him in song, dance, or play.

One of the halfling children blinks up and asks where they should go next. Jericho thinks back to his best gals waiting for him in the dark wood. Gosh, I was hoping we wouldn't get into this bar, Miss Farron. We have, and there's no going back. Zero. What happened to you?

Well, they all went to bed and slept very peacefully and lived happily ever after. I'd like to insight check Jericho. So is it just kids now, or is it still... It's a mix of both. It's mostly kids, but it is...

The ages vary. It's whoever decided to stay up and listen. And Jericho's been playing here for a while that it seems like all of the parents trust him. Never trust a scarecrow. So, you know, how long will you be in these towns? Some hacks and notes? I...

I'll look at Brixie and I'll say, "Well, as long as it took." I wasn't the one making the rules. I wasn't the one telling me where to go and what to do. That was all my best guess. As long as I did what I said, then they'd give me all the affection that an old scarecrow like me could desire and enjoy.

So, um... It would basically be like the travelling bard to these villages and towns. So I'm coming anywhere, right? Just the bard coming in and playing the local taverns and then moving on, that sort of thing? Yeah, for sure. I mean, especially around harvest time, there was always reeling thrall by a scarecrow that could play the banjo. And I didn't have no weird, gross crow to scare them all away.

I scared the crows away instead. That's a good point. So is Virgil just not in the picture yet? Oh, no, no, no. This is actually quite pleasant. Ain't got no Virgil. And I got friends. I got my best gals. Gosh, I had everything. I had everything a father could ask for. So what do you do now? Oh.

But I mean, I suppose we could enjoy some of the festive treats of the day. This village had the holiday of corn and corn alone day. It was a corn festival. I don't know if you could put that together. It's quite the name.

Oh, yeah. Garsh. It was quite the name. This town, they loved it. And this was my Shantia. I don't... You know, they worship that goddess and they love their corn. Let me tell you. Let me tell you. I will go up and attempt to... Is there, like, satchels of corn? Or is there, like... I'll reach down and see if I can pick up corn. You can reach down and pick up corn.

I did not think, I thought my hand might pass through the basket. There's corn bread, there's corn, just corn pone in case you're feeling real spicy. We spent some time since I've had corn. Corn on the cob? That's all I got. You bite into it and it tastes like corn, but as you swallow it feels like it never hits your stomach. You have no sense of fullness. But you get the taste. It is quite good, if not an illusion.

Oh, that's what corn pone is. I feel like you've mentioned corn pone a bunch of times and I just... What the fuck is corn pone? It's a very memorable treat. I would just take whole handfuls of it and just eat it because I don't know the difference. Well, needless to say, after this experience, I was a husk of a person. Cool.

On my way here, I got lost. I got lost in the cornfields. It was an amazing experience.

- I saw him typing, I'm like what the fuck is he doing on his iPad? He's looking at the fucking corn hymns. - 150 corn puns, quick, quick, faster. - Get out of my way Pinterest. - And when I thought that I knew that I had a feeling it was gonna be corn on a corn alone day and I thought, you know, Brigsy, Captain Cratch, if you came up,

to me and said, "Hey, I'm a pirate. I'd like to buy some corn and it'll cost you a buck an ear." That's a very specific joke, Jericho. Corn pirate? It's like a sliver of that. There it is.

You know what, guys? I'm sorry for all of the corn jokes. I find them difficult to digest. That's gross. You know, this little child over here, he said, oh, Jericho, uh,

Here's some unpopped popcorn with nothing on it. And I said, just plain popcorn? I can do a lot butter than that. Jericho, I don't want to ruin... I'm starting to see the mist encroaching and I don't know if we have all the time in the world for this. Well, uh...

Well, the reason why I say all of that is that all of the children are going to find all of those jokes hilarious. And when I suggest there's plenty more corn jokes and corn alone jokes where that came from. But back in the woods. Follow me, children.

and I'll sing a song about corn. With Jericho's suggestion to head into the woods to meet his friends, the audience enthusiastically agrees with a cheer, many of them staying well up past their bedtime. They follow Jericho like the Pied Piper he was constructed to be, and the halfling men, women, and children sing and dance as they enter the dark woods and are never seen again.

This continues, over and over again, from village to village. Jericho isn't sure how many years passes this way, and he's never really sure what happens to the folk he brings back to the Oakum sisters. But he knows it's what he's supposed to do.

The affection the green hags heap upon him each time he successfully brings more mortals to the hut is absolutely addicting, and Jericho will do anything to get just a tiny bit of praise, genuine or not. And finally, the night that would be the culmination of all that singing and banjo playing arrives, thanks to all of Jericho's hard work, of course, he stands proudly beneath a full harvest moon bathed in the blue light. The ground around him is littered with black feathers and blood.

A massive runic circle in the same pattern that is mirrored on his banjo is formed by the corpses of hundreds of slaughtered crows. The scarecrow's shirt is open, the cage of his torso now empty but glowing with runic magic, and the three hags stand in a triangle formation around the pattern as they speak a single name thrice. Raum. Raum. Raum. Suddenly...

Suddenly, the beautiful blue moonlight is swallowed by demonic orange light as the horrified sound of a cawing shriek erupts around him, then inside him, then from him.

You see the simple scarecrow move and shift as a huge crow-like demon with four wings suddenly materializes around him and begins to fuse with him. The malevolent orange eyes with pupils made of four pointed stars looks between the hags, not with obedience but with ravenous hatred. The looks upon the Oakum sisters' faces turns from glee to abject horror as a sudden realization hits them, just as a realization hits Jericho.

And there he is. Not quite as handsome as your fella, crazy.

So are we seeing... You are seeing the form of Jericho now transformed into this visage of Ra'um. The four wings, the star-like eyes, as it looks ravenously down at these hats. Jericho is clearly within it, trapped within it. But Ra'um is what you see. I get it since an ironic reversal. What does that mean?

Well, see, I'm inside of Raoul's chest as a prisoner. Oh, instead of him being trapped inside yours? Yeah. I don't like that joke as much as my corn jokes. So they wanted this to happen? I mean, they look pretty scared right there. No, they definitely are. They are shaking in their, well, I'd say boots, but it's more like just gross bare feet with bunions. LAUGHTER

And I don't... More than they could handle? They thought that what you all know to be the situation just happened right away. But I did this to them. All I had to do was lock him away as soon as he came from the darkness where he came from. But he got into my head. Right when it happened, I had a chat with him.

He came to me as that. I felt the presence of these dark wings over me. And then I looked and he was just a man, a man with a cane, handsome fellow, real sweet voice. And he told me about everything that they had done. My best gal's, how it wasn't real, how the love was never real, how the affection, how I was just a tool.

I would just farm equipment like a plow or a rake. He made a whole lot of sense. And he wanted me to help him and he was real for him. He'd be a true friend. Rather than locking him away right away, his words sounded mighty nice, mighty sweet. He knew a lot, a lot of secrets. They told me only someone real powerful, real knowledgeable would know it. So what happened to all those kids?

are the people that you brought to the woods? I still don't know. I mean, I do know. I don't know the specifics, if that's what you're asking. I mean, do they play a part in this? Every single one of them played a part. All them souls get a demon like Virgil. That's real. Takes a lot of souls. Takes a lot of power. Much less to try to trap them in prison. So they wanted to use Virgil.

if trapped inside you is like that tool they wanted to turn old virgil into piece of farm equipment just like me i don't think he'd be very good at playing the banjo his arm was all messed up too so what happens now i suppose i should go get in the get in the chest

She stares at you. She looks horrified and shocked. I will just look at all of them and say, "We got a beast there. Evil hags, rat." And I'll step forward and I'll kind of try to sloop into and

become the prisoner inside of Raoum, but also fueling that rage and hatred and anger and ravenous hatred and just completely let go.

In nearly an instant, Jericho, or is it R'hum, or is it both, lunges forward on fiendish black wings and tears apart each and every Okum sister, rending them with huge black talons and devouring them to the jagged crow beak. The demonic creature slaughters the coven that created it. However, once this revenge was finally complete, the magic of the ritual does not cease.

He watches the fiendish eyes of the crow demon go wide with surprise and hatred as the corporeal form shifts and shakes and is turned to orange energy that swirls like a hurricane of black feathers.

With a calling shriek, Rauum is pulled into the scarecrow's chest, imprisoning the demon as Jericho collapses to the ground, seemingly losing his senses. In a burst of feathers, the scarecrow's mouth opens and a large, angry crow forces its way out of his throat, packing the burlap sack that formed his head until Jericho finally awoke. It took time for Jericho to process that the gore that surrounded him was made up of his best gals.

and then he realized for the first time in his life that he is truly alone. "No," reminds the crow by his side, "he has one friend. Only one friend in this world." Jericho introduces himself to the bird in his usual way, and the crow tells him to call him Virgil.

Immediately, the vision fades and the yellow fog resonates with the sound of calling crows, and you feel the power of the Demon of Secrets well inside you, more than it ever has before. Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioioio

I don't really have words for what we witnessed, but Jericho is still our friend. And I hope— Is he? I hope that perhaps he can be freed one day, and that horrible creature that is within him won't— won't be there anymore. I mean, it doesn't seem to me like he had much choice in any of this. Jericho is still Jericho. He's just a tool of evil, used and betrayed by those he trusted most.

Our beautiful best gals. You're a reasonable person, Jorgrim. Thank you, Jorgrim. You're no longer a tool, but also a friend. I will go and I will give a comforting hug to Jericho. Gosh, I'm gonna like cut a hole in my hand. This is from like, oh gosh. Oh, oh.

Alongside us. Did you even see what happened to those three fucking eggs? They were devoured, eaten, consumed. Eviscerated. Torn apart. Look. The mist has almost completely covered us. It's like it's growing stronger with all of... With your connections. This is amazing. We're doing it. We're doing it.

So far, so good. Am I the Watcher of Eir yet? Yeah, looks like it. I could touch you and find out, but kinda don't want to. I don't blame you. But I will!

And she hops over, and then she like shrieks back, and then she hops over, she shrieks back, and then she hops really quickly with her eyes closed, and she reaches up and grabs onto you. Am I glowing yellow? Am I glowing yellow? And she is very clearly glowing yellow. Yes, you are. Okay, okay. And then her tiny rabbit form begins to swell and shake. Feathers. No!

The golem's saying this, and what happens if he loses his mind and it happens again, but to us instead? We're those free-throwing hags. This means something was right. Did you hear that? And you all did. It sounded like the snapping of a twig, as if something off in the darkness in the distance of the forest is moving closer.

You hear that? Yeah. I'm the watcher there. Just back off. Wait, so we're in Druskinvold somewhere? I don't know. Could something be out there, or is this more like a metaphorical thing? I told you that we were protected by this mist thing. If there's a metaphorical monster that is stalking us, I do not care. That is scarier than a non-metaphorical monster. Whatever happens with Jericho, we will deal with it. I'm sorry. Jericho is our friend. Exactly. Mm.

I know that must have been really hard for you to go through to see it all happen again, but... To be used by people who you thought loved you.

We're here with you. I appreciate it, friends. And I'm still, I would probably then just actually just deeply embrace Lethika. And I'm like talking to everybody just past her head. And I'm like, if you would like try to pull away, I'd be like, just like off there. No, Lethika knows how to hug. She'll let you hug for as long as you need. Damn. Okay, well, let's keep this moving. Who wants to go next? I don't even move into like the paths to like get them off. I love her.

You know, it's one of those times where like, it's up and over on the shoulders, you know? "Jorgen? Do you want to go next?" "If you're ready. I can go if you're not." "I know what it'll show me. I see it every night when I close my eyes." "I'm in no rush to feel it again." "It's okay, Yorim. We got time."

Until that metaphorical monster comes out. What a meantime.

I'm going to move my tongue and on my toes so I can't bite my tongue or stub my toes. And I pull out my tongue and take off on my toes and I'm going to get a scream. Who knew my cock fell off? It's not coming back on. Oh no, in this place you can't bring a church ring.

And that means it's going to be unattached forever. It's permanent. So with that, who wants to go next? You don't want to go? You're a grimp? Just get it over with. Just deal with it. I believe in you.

I'll let Lethika go, and I'll say, uh... Oh, sorry. I used to be a lot stronger. You see my muscles back? It was mostly straw. It was entirely straw. Farron, it can't be much worse than what we just saw. I can go. I'm ready. You want to go, Farron?

Hold on. Okay, well, let me find you right here on my list. Give me a second. I was partially Norgrim. It's okay, I think I found you. I found you. How about eggs? Oh, shucks! Ah, fun! There probably needs to be some... I mean, Mami's got you. I don't get it. If they're corn jokes, you can just... Oh, husking me. I found it. No, I'm good. It's okay.

So you just stand in the middle, you know, and everybody doesn't say anything. Well, you say the name. Nobody says anything including me. Right. I'll step to the center. I gave my soul willingly, so I hope it won't be so bad for all of you to see. I gave my soul to the beast of blight, to Gorthos, the blighted one.

As you speak the name of the dark archfey of your circle, the fog around you shifts to a faint green glow. And as soon as you take that first step on your journey, the fog opens up and you're all in an ancient forest of what appears to be dead trees rotted through with fungus and blight. You see a number of figures surrounding a fetid pond, on the bank of which is a massive stag laying on its side.

While the beast may have once been mighty and strong, it is now clearly emaciated and covered in boils, overcome with some sort of sickness that is giving it pained, labored breathing. The figures that surround this are antlered and hooved themselves, as satyrs adorned in pelt, wicker, and bone all give their attention to two teenage satyrs who stand right beside the dying stag. A young Farron of the Heartsplite looks to her dearest friend, Gwena of the Heartsplite, with a sick pit in her stomach.

Both of them knew that this day would come, but nothing could have prepared her for a first Heartsplite ritual, especially with all of the Circle elders watching. However, both shared their same zealous commitment to their patron and the same natural talent for the magics of Wicker, Rune, and Blight, and today they must prove to the elders that they are fit to survive and spread the will and the Blight of Gorthos. The stag looks at Farron with pain in its eyes and gives a weak grunt.

Immediately, Gwenna puts a soft hand on her shoulder. You felt so young then. You look young. This is where you lived. Why? It's the forest. It's where I came from. It's like a spooky forest. I've been to forests before, in jungles. I didn't find it spooky at all. It was beautiful. Thanks.

Grew from seedlings, from saplings. Grew tall into trees and fell and sunk back into the forest floor. Began the cycle all over again. I guess that's how it works. Who's your friend? Oh, can I have like a sad smile on my face? It's Gwynna. She was my everything. My best friend in the world. Much more than that. Your best gal?

I guess you could say. My best gal. She's very beautiful. She was the most beautiful of all the forms in our circle. She was the strongest and the fastest. She was mine. I had her attention every day and she had mine and we were so close. Even though we weren't supposed to be. It was our secret. Oh, it was your secret. Our circle didn't approve of close relationships. You're meant to...

be born, to grow up into the service of the Circle, to do your duty, spreading light throughout the forest and leading the Circle of Life from one end to another. It's hard to take things with you if you're only really meant to die in the end, and your body's just a body. But she was different. We were different. It is so strange to me that all of us, so far, would share a important ritual in our pasts.

What was the nature of what you needed to do here now, in this space? This was our first real test as young Fallens growing up. To abide by the word of Gorthos. To spread his blight and by that spread his power. To help this sick and ailing creature return to the earth.

I have heard of many gods and goddesses, demigods, powerful entities, but I admit, in all of my years, I have never heard of this Gornthos. He's trapped within our forest. He's very powerful, but he needs his blood to spread so that he can spread. That's why I'm here. Spreading his power. Oh.

"So your job's to make more spook-- some more spooky forests?" "If you're not afraid of death, it's really not that scary of a place." "I guess. It's a fair point. I'm the opposite of that." "You look pretty spooky yourself there, Mr. Zombie Crocodile Man!" "You fit in right-- you fit right in here." "Well, that doesn't mean I like it!" "So, Farron, does this mean you have to finish your ritual?" "It does."

We have to put this poor thing to rest. Okay. It's all step over, kind of sidling up, kind of stepping into the place where I'm standing next to Glona. So I would lean down and with my long claws that I have, scratch a rune into the kind of blighted skin that it has, sort of in the shape of a bee.

And then taking a large knife that I would have, I would slit its throat and let the life dreams run out. You watch as Farron and Gwena join together and put the stag out of its misery. With their powerful magic from the darkest reaches of the Feywild, you watch as a fungal blight, the heart's blight, swarms over the freshly deceased stag and within minutes it is fully decayed into nothing but rich nutrients from which new life will grow.

This was the first of many rituals, as you see Farron and Gwena complete their rite of passage and become full members of the Circle. The years pass, and the more they commit themselves to the Circle and to spreading the Heartsplite and perfecting their wicker weaving, rune carving, and other rituals, they help each other with. The closer they grow,

This brings suspicious eyes upon them, especially with the most devout of the elders. Personal attachment was to be reserved for Gorthos. The faith and the work and the attachment that the two satyrs, now young women, both shared was coming under more and more scrutiny. This scrutiny leads to a night that is especially dark so that their escape from their home goes unnoticed by any of the other druids.

This was a beautiful night.

So you, I mean, what choice do you have? Pretty terrible. I mean, this is awful. I'm sorry you had to go through with this. Fuck the village elders! It's not the way that I went with it. Sorry. I know we're probably gonna see it, but you can't stand in the way of true love. That's how I felt. To have the one person that I could be myself with. One person I could touch and hold and have to myself and tell secrets with.

wasn't all blooming down with her. I mean, I'm all about personal attachment. It's kind of, you know, everything I am is what I want. So, I mean, whatever you're going to do, I don't blame you. I'm sure I would do the same thing. But you did mention that you willingly gave, you know, yourself to Gorthos, but it kind of looks like you were born into this. I was born into it. It was the way of things. You grow up in the circle and you give yourself to Gorthos.

Natural order. And I do. Oh, that was the natural order of things. You were born into it. I guess it's your lot in life, right? We all have our own sort of lot in life, even if we don't choose it. But it was in this moment that you did have a choice. What choice did you make? Did you pick Gwena, or did you pick Orthos? After all, this is a page-turner. The little rabbit gnaws at her paws.

I... I love Gorthos. I... I believe in everything that... that he... he spreads everything that he does. It's necessary for this earth, and without him, we would all fall, and we wouldn't rise again. But Gwynna had my heart. I mean, look at her. How was I gonna say no to that? She was something just for me. I... I certainly would. Something I didn't have to give back. Love is extremely important. It's very powerful.

It's so hard to grow up in a place like that. Your parents really don't even raise you. You're born and you're put off into the groups with the rest of the kids. It's hardly a hug to go between you. And to have someone to touch, to feel the warmth of them against you. You don't know what it's like. No, I don't. And so you picked Gwenna. I picked her. And from that moment forward...

The two give in to the feelings they have for each other and decide that there is nothing worth sacrificing their attachment to each other. But they do this in secret. Their romance blossoms under the shroud and secrecy of night, but to the others of the circle, they seem to completely lose interest and attachment for each other. For years, their plan works, and both satyrs are happy.

Farron hunches over to forage for mushrooms for that evening's dinner, excited to reward Gwena with a special feast on her return from clearing out the encroaching harpies from the north, which would be no match for her love. However, upon returning to the Circle's dwellings, she discovered Gwena's body surrounded by the elders. While her mission had been successful, one of the harpies had envenomed her talons, and she died less than a mile from home. The ritual to return her body to the earth would proceed the following evening.

It takes all of Farron's willpower to mask her devastation at losing the love of her life and the protestation of watching her dear Gwenna turn to blight and decay. The rest of the Circle did not mourn, for death was just the next step of the Circle of Life. Death, cleansing, and renewal.

However, that night Farron mourns, now truly alone for the first time in her life, and unlike the elders, she refuses to accept this part of the cycle, and thinks of the alleged power whispered about by the fauns of the Circle, even strong enough to reverse death. These were the secrets kept in the Archdruid's hut on the edge of the Satyr's community, but claiming such a power was considered the height of blasphemy.

Farron once more felt the conflict in her heart as she wandered through the night and made her way towards the hut. I am terribly sorry for your loss, but this can't be going the way that I think that it is. What else was I going to do? They were just going to let her rot back into the earth, and I know that that's the way it's supposed to be, but she was mine. She was mine to keep, and I loved her. That's rough. That's really rough.

I know she would have done the same thing for me. So I did. I waited for everyone to fall asleep, and I went to the hut. You made the right decision. I was... I don't know if I did. I think... What other choice is there? You have something like me, and all I do is make mistake after mistake, and I'm seeing you, Farron, and you got a good head on your shoulders, antlers and all. You're just doing the right thing one after another.

What any reasonable person or dear folk would do. I knew I had to do something. This was the only thing that I had. It just got over my head. When you get into powers, it's just a reverse death. I mean, look at us. Stark stuff. As you look at this scene that's frozen here, you see the door to the hut glow with that strange green light.

I will look back across the camp where she's lying for the ritual and then I will turn forward and step into the hut. You watch as Feren slips in and out of the Archdruid's hut, utilizing the stealthy magic that had kept her safe in this dangerous forest for so many years. And soon after...

She had escaped into the wood with forbidden wicker fetishes in the body of Gwena. After closely examining the powerful artifacts, she places them around the corpse of her deceased lover, and with all of the primal magic that resides inside her, she activates the dark magic to resurrect Gwena. And Gwena does rise.

However, it is only the flesh of Gwena that rises before her, and the creature that groans and burbles is just bone, bark, wicker, fur, and fungus. This body had once housed Gwena's soul, the woman Farron loved, but it was now nothing more than a hollow shell puppeted by magics. He watches Farron, having committed the cardinal sin of her circle, tearfully puts an end to the creature she had inadvertently given life to. Now, without a love or a home, Farron weeps.

Then, a massive creature approaches through the forest, bigger than any predator Farron knew of in these woods. A deep, rasping voice calls out as a colossal stag steps into the clearing. It was skeletal, just as much plant matter and blight as it was animal parts. Gorthos loomed tall with his wicker antlers, and immediately Farron felt the kinship she always knew she had.

She had bucked the traditions that kept the old circle stagnant, and her passionate acts were the catalyst for the Blight to truly spread beyond the confines of the forest. As Farron bowed, so did the Archfey, and the satyr received the mark of the beast. Immediately, the vision fades and the green fog resonates with the sound of the stag's bellow and the creaking of wicker, and you feel the power of the beast of Blight well inside you more than it ever has before. I'm mighty sorry, Farron.

Do you still think I made the right choice? Yes. I did for her. Yes. To her, I guess. You had to try it, Ferret. I did. And I'm here now, and the only way is forward. If I can spread his power, he can bring her back. I couldn't, but he can. Flora hops over to you and immediately wraps her arms around your leg, and you see as she glows bright with that green color.

It almost shocks herself as she'd completely forgotten about that connection. She hops back and then begins to transition between the same colors again. It worked, that's for sure. I think you're right. I can feel it. Watcher of Earth? Yeah. That stands to reason everything I know about you. You did the right thing. Don't you feel a shred of regret like most of us should? Thank you, Jericho. Not really.

Sort of worked out. It was horrific, but, you know, it's almost like it's what you're... Is it a god or whatever it is? I mean, you're sort of doing his will now, right? That's exactly right. It doesn't appear as though Gorthos has turned his back on you. He hasn't. Not yet. And I won't turn my back on him until he brings her back.

Got a real cast of characters here. Yeah, and still two more to go. And it looks like the magic is truly working because we're sealed in. We can go again. I'll scan the horizon, see the trees. Are they becoming more and more creeping in? Because the fog is so thick...

you can barely see them. It's in the moments you first return that the fog is thinnest, and that's when you can see the forest beyond, and when you can hear, you're starting to begin to hear the noises. So you're hearing still, like, cracks? And it's more and more prevalent, but the fog is closing in closer, so it almost seems as if you don't speed up now. At first, you were meant to go slow, but now it's 10.30. Okay.

The thong is moving faster. It's the end of a midnight. Oh, he said the thing! Well, Yordle, it appears that it would be either me or you, and I was going to let the god of this world decide whether her notes were in the right order or not. Other than that, either way. Who wants to go first? It's totally up to you. I'm going to have to thong around on my notes regardless. Sir Marius...

I want a nice, pleasant, heroic knight's tale. You will not find that for me, Jericho. I'm sorry. I have several lovely tales about deeds that I've done, but not today. Oh, you sure about that? Maybe it'll, when you become the Watcher of Fire, it'll be like, oh, here's that time I saved that cat from a tree. I'm extremely sure. Maybe an old lady crossing the...

The thoroughfare, perhaps? No, no, none of that. You hear the cracking of branches and twigs off in the distance. There is no time of the present! There is a little longer circle. Are you going to come this far? Quite frankly, you all have said that you've given your soul willingly, perhaps, but mine was taken. And you were worried about finding Mr. Crossroads if he were to appear.

I dare her to appear. I've wanted to kill her for a very, very long time. And I'd like to get my chance, and I don't know what's going to happen if she lends me her power. She whispered a name, one that I will never repeat. But I know her as the Red Duchess.

As you speak, the only title you know of the woman who tricked you so long ago. The fog around you shifts to a faint purple glow. And as soon as you take that first step on your journey, the fog opens up and you are all in the courtyard of a large castle. A number of workers and servants walking about as two young boys with wooden swords play fight, laughing and shouting as a stable hand has to dodge their sprinting.

Although both of the boys seem to be no older than 10, the sword play is surprisingly good, but the blonde child clearly gains the upper hand on the boy with the black hair until the latter trips and falls onto his back. The victorious boy declares that he, Lord Marius Renethir, has defeated the future king, Victor Denathria, as the defeated boy lets out a cough before both of them erupt into laughter and young Marius pulls the crowned prince to his feet.

Soon, the boys are teenagers and already off to war against a hobgoblin army. Fighting shoulder to shoulder, Marius saving the generally sickly Victor from certain doom on more than a handful of occasions. And despite all the praise and thanks the Crown Prince gave to his best friend, young Marius always gave credit to Lathander for looking over both of them in their kingdom of Betonia.

By the time the pair returned from the war, a decisive victory, the current king was dead and Victor was crowned shortly after his 18th birthday. You see the newly crowned king surrounded by his entire court step forward and ask Marius Renethyr to be a knight of the realm and to always serve his god, his king, and his nation as his holy oath. All eyes in the glorious, gloriously gilded throne room are upon the pair of men as Victor looks intensely into Marius's eyes.

Oh, my best friend. My king. King Victor Denathria. And I miss him. I miss him so. It's been so many decades. Oh, is he gonna die horribly too? I don't know about horribly. I mean, he was always a little sickly, but I think what will eventually be his undoings is humanity. He's growing older. It's only a matter of time before he will pass.

Oh, so he's not dead? Currently? Not yet. Oh! That's nice. But I'm running out of time. Because he is not immortal like I appear to be. Oh, so this was a long time ago. Many, many decades. I've lost count almost. Does he look younger than you look now? Yes, he does. They're about 18. Oh, okay. This is very young. Okay.

Well, I don't know what you're talking about, Sir Marius. This looks like a mighty knight's tale. Where I come from is beautiful. It's perfect. It's why I would do anything for my kingdom and my king. It's that loyalty to them and him and Lathander that gives me all of my strength and power. Where in Eventris is this kingdom? Delphinus.

I've never been there, but I haven't been to none of these places. I don't know why. Me neither. You never sailed? Didn't you say, or I guess you kept it pretty narrow?

I thought you sealed foreign words. This story is about Marius. It's all right. Please, I haven't been. I haven't been everywhere in the world, all right? Please, it's all right. I'm enjoying seeing my friend again.

He looks so happy to be about to knight you. Do you become a knight? I mean, well... No spoilers! I do. I do. I do become a knight. I think we're spoiled by his beautifully golden regalia. We did have a bit of a clue, I guess, that you said yes on this occasion. It was always possible he stole the armor.

Oh, that's true. He calls himself Sir Marius. To be fair, though, in the story, as a kid, when he bested his friend, he called himself Sir Marius. So even then, he was pretending to be an... I'm sorry. No, no, I had hopes, even from as long as I could remember, that I would do nothing but serve my king and my best friend and my brother. So what do you do now? What do you do now? Well, I accept, and I would...

Proceed forward to take the place of this double of mine and kneel and proceed with the ritual that I know so well and cherish. The ceremonial blade of King Victor Denathria gently touches each pauldron of the young man's shoulders, and Sir Marius Renathir rises in Knight of Etania,

taking up the symbol of the blood red rose as his coat of arms. Through his works and deeds, he develops a reputation of being the most honorable knight in the realm, and while Sirmarius serves valiantly protecting the people, Vatania suffered great military losses over the next decade that saw the borders shrink significantly. Soon, a wary and grave-minded King Victor confides in his best friend and most gallant knight that there may be little hope for Vatania as the surrounding kingdoms are growing in power every year.

Victor sits on the throne with Marius by his side and hopes for a miracle. He wishes that the mythical artifact of Lathander sung about in Vatania's Songs of War, the Grail of Dawn, was real and could offer the true divine intervention that they need. The king warily slumps forward and looks wistfully at the ever-shrinking battle map before him, a hopeless sigh escaping his lips. It was the only way. The Grail.

The Grail of Dawn. Isn't a grail just a cup? Yes, that's exactly what it is, yes. We're talking about like war and kingdoms and, you know, borders being redrawn. Is there power for a cup? That's what they say. Wow. And... What is it? What does it do? I mean, there are tales, there are songs, beautiful poems written just about this artifact. Unfortunately, getting a bit ahead of myself, we had to find it.

But all my king had to do was ask. I would stop everything that I was doing to go search for it. Wait, so that's the artifact that Philip says he has? Apparently. So did he ask? Did he ask you to go on a knight's quest? He did. And without even a moment's hesitation, I agreed. Because I would do anything for King Victor. So that's what you did next. You pledged yourself to the acquisition of the Grail. That's correct.

I will, again, proceed forward and thinking back to this conversation that I had with my best friend and king, allow it to play out and agree to take on this quest.

King Victor Denathri embraces his oldest friend and within the month Marius rides out from the capital city and begins his grail quest. He travels far and wide as generosity, courtesy, fellowship and piety are tested and overcome handily by the knight of the blood red rose. However, despite the several leads he's gained and the vast stretches of land he covers across the continent of Delphinus, he does not find the grail of dawn. After months of searching, winter is descending upon him quickly.

A violent storm catches him by surprise when he is cold, starving, injured, horseless, and so very wary. And then, as if sent by Lathander himself, Marius finds a castle in the remote hinterlands of Vitania, where he immediately seeks shelter and aid, hoping for the generosity of the inhabitants. Much to his surprise, he is greeted by the castle's only inhabitant, the lady of the house, a duchess in a red dress.

The Duke and his vassals were on a hunting expedition and would not return for at least a week, so Sir Marius was more than welcome to recover from his travels. This woman is the most beautiful woman most of you have ever seen, and as she and Marius talk over dinner you can see just how absolutely hypnotic she is.

After dessert is finished, the Duchess in red bites her lower lip and invites Marius to her bedchambers for the evening, while his head is filled with exhaustion, wine, and a strange perfume that feels almost magical in its enchantment. Looking back on it now, it's all so clear. I can't believe I was such a fool. No, I can't believe it. Gosh, no wonder you turned down the High Inquisitor. Gosh!

I believe it. Winter conditions and wine can do strange things to a person. If one were to subscribe to our Patreon, you'd be able to find out more about our weather conditions.

The ultimate, the ultimate science vlogger! Unbelievable! I'm eating fresh, brother!

Oh my god! I hope you're pouring my heart out. What is she referring to? No, she's... Unbelievable. What's a Patreon? I'm just kidding. We're keeping that in, right, Bruce Wayne? Yeah, that's what I'm saying.

I was at my end. I was very close to death. And it's like I knew something wasn't right. It was too good to be true, but I couldn't help myself. It was as if there was something more going on. And I knew. I knew that this wasn't right. But I just couldn't say no. I mean, what's the problem? She's clearly involving you to her bedchamber. She was spoken for. And...

The fifth test is one of chastity. Until that moment, I had passed them with flying colors, if you will. Helping people, gifting them things they needed, doing sacred rites, slaying monsters. But this one, I just couldn't say no. So what did you do? Without a word, stone-faced and just a slight shaking of rage.

I go and I sit down where I'm at at this table and I see what this woman is doing and I silently push my chair back, stand, walk to her, reach my hand out and allow her to lead me to her chambers. You watch as Marius fails his test of chastity and joins the Red Duchess in her bedchamber. And after a night of passion, the woman pries every single detail of his quest out of him, offering salvation herself.

She says her husband is a collector of religious artifacts and she produces a black grail filled with red liquid, the Grail of Dawn. She offers him a sip to prove that it is filled with the divine might of Lathander himself. Still naked and feeling the shame already welling up, Sir Marius Renathir reaches forth and grabs the grail, drinking deep from it.

It's in that moment you see his hunger and agony overcome him. He rides on the floor as the dark transformation turns him from man to creature of the night, and the Duchess herself transforms, revealing her true form, complete with horns, wings, and hooves, even more beautiful than the facade you had previously seen, but far more horrible. In this moment, you see Sir Marius break.

And in one moment, the woman in red gives the disgraced knight a farewell kiss, and the next moment he is out in the storm, the castle nowhere in sight, and nothing but the echoing cackling of that seductive voice. Immediately, the vision fades and the purple fog resonates with the sound of a seductive breath and a moan, and you feel the power of the Duchess of Sin well up inside you, more than it ever has before.

I can still smell that perfume. I was drunk, but not on wine alone. She clearly had some magical hold on me. I should have known instantly that that damned cup was not the chalice. My soul was forcibly ripped from me in that moment. That wasn't the grill, Doc? No. No. It looked awfully spooky. Didn't really fit the description, I guess, but you know.

When you're desperate. Some sort of enchantment, some sort of mental manipulation. I wasn't... She could have told me anything and I would have believed it in that moment. So that's Isuccubus, huh? That was her. Gosh, I don't know how I feel about that. Never let me meet Isuccubus. Please, folk. Gosh, y'all are worried about Virgil. I'm more worried about Marius's friend now. We'll do our best, Jericho.

I'm sorry that that happened to you. You didn't do nothing wrong, Marius. I... You were tricked. No, I should have been stronger. I broke my vows as a knight, the only thing I ever wanted to be.

And I pay for it. Every day. And potentially forever. But everyone deserves redemption. And if you can find the grail, and if you can save your friend, and if you can atone for your failure in the eyes of your god, you could be redeemed.

Thank you. I think that you might be right. Lathander did not leave my side, and if I do find the grail, I'm hoping that it will return me back to a human and save my kingdom, and my king can rest in peace when he eventually passes. I believe that can happen. She runs over to you, and she hugs onto your leg, and you watch as she glows a very vibrant purple. I see...

Why you have the sin of wrath upon you in this space and... I thought you were going to say rats. Wrath. Okay. You took the quest up again, though. After your transformation, you chose to continue to seek the Grail. Did you ever go to see if you could find this Duchess again or stop on your quest to go seek revenge? I did.

I think you're right.

Thank you. You're welcome. And I don't mean to play devil's advocate on account of the fact that I'm literally a demon's advocate by nature of my existence. But, I mean, that pretty lady, I mean, she can't be all bad, right? Don't you remember down beneath the basement of the crooked house?

and that old evil fairy of the crooked teeth tried to possess ya? I believe the only reason that was stopped is because she is a jealous lover. She wants me all for herself.

Maybe you see it as a blessing, but I certainly do not. It's getting hot and steamy in the mist. Well, I'm just saying, you know, as rough as it is, you know, Virgil and I don't always see I die, and Brizzy and his friend on the other side. There's a silver lining, perhaps. Perhaps you're right. I can promise you that...

She'll regret not killing me and giving me eternal life. You hear the sound of movement in the forest behind you, and this time the sound of something large, incredibly large, breathing heavily.

"You're the one who doesn't have to stand so close to me." You mean like I'm laughing at you or something? I'm breathing awfully. You're the one who's gonna go now? 'Cause, to be fair, you're the only one who hasn't gone yet. You're not going to tell your story? This isn't a time for my story. Also, I'm not real. Well, you're real as a familiar. Right, but I'm made up of magic.

I thought maybe you would be gluttony. What? I step into the center. Okay, we all know how this works. Everyone needs to be quiet, including me, and you're going to say the name. Just know, I'm sorry for what you're about to see. The Maiden of the Mists.

As you speak the only name you know for the maiden, perhaps the only name anyone knows, the fog around you shifts to a faint white glow. As soon as you take that first step on your journey, the fog opens up and you find yourself in a beautiful valley tucked away in the remote reaches of Anari. A number of quaint tribal villages scatter the landscape, all bathed in the nearly purple moonlight of an autumn night. But where you stand, there is no life beyond a small orcish child running amidst the clan stones of a burial ground.

A boy no older than eight, he occasionally stops and speaks, although no one seems to be there to listen. He sometimes has long conversations at a particularly ancient gravestone chiseled with orcish etchings.

And while at first he seems to be speaking to the air, your eyes and ears adjust and eventually you see the shimmering spectral form of an elderly orc spirit giving kindly advice to what is clearly a young Yorgrem as he speaks to the dead, an ornate shovel sticking up from the recently dug grave a mere five feet away.

As the boy leaves the spectre behind, he looks wistfully off towards the village of his people, the Shadestone Clan. Having never felt at home among the living orcs, he does not know what to do with his life, and he looks morose. I could always hear the spirits from a young age. I felt more peace among the tombstones.

than I did in my home village. You look confident. Whoever you were speaking to appeared to be kind. They were your friends. Yes, friends. It was a good word for them. You were always able to communicate beyond surveil? As far back as I can remember. You could always-- spirits spoke to me. I could speak back to them.

So this was like a Yorgrib thing, not like every orc in your clan can do this kind of thing. Yes, my next question, exactly. That's exactly right, Lefica. Thank you. 100%. 100% necessary. It certainly does seem meaningfully important. I'm sure his answer is forthcoming.

Sons of vengeance. One... one orc in a generation had the power to commune with the spirits. They became a... I became a shaman. My clan presided over the passing of those who lived in the valley, performed their final rites, saw them safely into the mists, and on occasion...

visit with them as they came back. But here you look so sad, like you don't know what your purpose is yet. At that time, I wasn't sure nobody else could speak to spirits. There's no more than eight here. I wasn't ready to be a shaman. I wasn't ready to carry the weight of this responsibility for the clan. So...

What made you decide to pick up your shovel and be the man that you are today? A sense of duty, I suppose. A sense of loyalty. I loved my clan. Though I was more at home in the quiet of the grave. It's what I was called to do. Man's gotta, or an orc's gotta have their tribe.

It's insane, I would've known. I had three gross hags. So, so what are you gonna do now? I'm gonna dig. I'll walk over and pick up the shovel. Okay. Hell yeah. Does it appear to be the same shovel? It is the same shovel. And as you do,

So does young Jorgrim, and as the young orc grips the shovel in his hands and knows what he was meant to do, the years pass and the small orc grows and grows, seemingly not stopping his growth as he rejects the life of warrior, hunter, farmer, or family, and instead takes up the mantle of shaman.

You see him, standing tall over the corpse of a young woman, having fallen in a dire war hunt. Yorgrem has covered her body in the respective markings and surrounded her with the etched rock fragments that ensure that her spirit would rest peacefully in his people's afterlife, communing with the ancestors and the spirits of the elements before lowering her physical remains into a freshly hewn grave, lastly etching her name into the clan stone that rests in this part of the burial grounds.

Yorgrem accustomed to performing these rituals alone, the girl's family already having said their goodbyes to their daughter and sister. So he was surprised when an orc approached him as he finished filling the grave. It was not just any orc, but the chieftain of the clan, Chief Ner'gul. He had the build of a mighty warrior, his mottled green skin marked with numerous scars to show his long life and prowess in battle. But most alarming was the grave expression on his face.

He came with a warning. He had been visited by the very founder of their clan, Derathar Shadestone, who warned of great calamity and the spirits of the elements and the dead being tortured. A ritual must be conducted to save them, which was foretold by the long-deceased chieftain. While Yorgrym had never been visited by the spirit of Derathar, he took this dire situation with the gravity it deserved, and soon he was standing over a Belladonna thicket, but

beneath which was said to be an ancient artifact that would be needed for the ritual. Yorgi, are we alright? Buddy? Yorgi? It's gonna be okay, Yorgi. I'll have my hand on your shoulder. I won't say anything, but you can feel that I'm trying to help you focus at least. This is where it begins. It's not gonna be okay. Well, you know it is gonna be okay, Yorgi, because we're all here together right now.

I lean forward and rifle in the belladonna thicket, knowing what I would find. And with your shovel, you begin to dig. As Jörgrim's shovel breaks the earth, he digs for what feels like an eternity, casting the belladonna to the side as it withers and dies. Finally, the spade hits something solid, and Jörgrim unearths a lantern, adorned ornately in designs that appear like clouds, or perhaps fog, or even mist.

Though the digging felt like ages, it's as if time decides to adjust itself. The image of Jörgrim with his newfound lantern fades as you watch him now, standing with his chieftain in the middle of the burial grounds, but it looks entirely different than you remember. Every single grave has been dug up, and the corpses of every Shadestone orc since the founding of the clan lay piled around the chieftain, who wields a strange hammer of his own creation, covered in runic markings that glow with a dull gray light.

Each exhumed gravesite causes the runes on the hammer to glow brighter and brighter. Finally, the chieftain was ready to complete the ritual and put the spirits to rest. Jorggrim had toiled for months to get to this point, and all the while he had heard the souls of the dead screaming and crying out. With each passing day, he was more convinced that the spirits of the ancestors and the elements were truly in torment and chaos.

And then Chieftain Nurgul begins to chant beneath the new moon, holding the hammer high and commanding Jorggrim to raise his lantern and repeat the same phrasing in tandem. This strange language was certainly not orcish or common, nor anything else Jorggrim had ever heard before. Jorggrim looks out at the exhumed skeletons and unearthed grave sites and to the lantern in his hands as his chieftain demands his obedience to save the souls of the dead. Can you raise your lantern high?

I would raise it. Does it still work? That's way better than what I got. Shit. Classic lantern. I had to desecrate the dead. I had to dig up every member I'd put to rest. Because Gnargul had said Derathar appeared to him.

There was an imbalance in the spirit world. I knew. Derathar did not appear to me. I was the bridge, and I sensed nothing. But I was loyal, and I held my lantern high and repeated his words. Yorgrem's lantern grows brighter and brighter as the two orcs' voices chant in unison, and then joined by a third voice. A hoarse voice.

a horrible guttural evil voice the chieftain shrieks in pain as his flesh is ripped from his body by some unknown force as nur ghul is turned to nothing but a skeleton now to void of flesh you see clearly that his very bones are covered with the same glowing runes as the hammer he still wields the screams of pain turn to the cackling laughter of two voices joined in one as the hammer explodes into a burst of gray mist consuming the living skeleton of chieftain nurghul first and then

everything else. The mist of death that would tear apart both the living and the dead, devouring Jorggrim's entire clan, begins to blanket the land around him. But it does not touch him as he is bathed in the ghastly green light of the lantern that is held at his side. When all is said and done, he is the last living soul in the valley.

It takes Jörgrim weeks, months, maybe years to bury the dead and return the corpses he had exhumed back to the earth. And when he buries the final one, he is visited by a figure. Little more than a silhouette, you see Jörgrim, hunched from the weariness of his toil, as he is approached by a vaguely feminine shape. Being unable to discern any facial features beneath her hood, he was met with two glowing green eyes, the same color as his lantern.

She stared at Jorgrim and he stared back, and he knew this was no god, devil, demon, or even lord of dread. He was staring upon the primordial form of death, as she raised a thin hand and pointed at his penance. A tall clan stone etched with the names of every single orc dead and desecrated. It would be his burden to bear. Jorgrim takes up the stone without question. He is hers now.

And this time, as things end, it is not as it has been before as I scrolled through the age. Sorry, sorry, sorry, there's a lock, there's a lock.

Immediately, the vision fades and black fog resonates with the sound of—oh, sorry, no, wrong. Immediately, with Flora as your guide, you follow the white rabbit through the fog and the darkness, and the subterranean feeling around you fades, and you hear the sounds of nocturnal creatures and the rustling of trees as a gust of wind howls around you, blowing much of the fog away, and you now realize you were in the depths of an impossibly ancient forest.

with twisted trees and gnarled branches. The rabbit familiar before you looks surprised, then confused, and then scared. As her eyes widen, she hops around looking for what should be the path that you must take. She cannot find it. "Oh no! This wasn't supposed to happen! We're supposed to go back to the house! Back to your bodies! Something is not right!"

Then you hear the snapping of bark and the violent cacophony of shaking boughs of leaves from all around you. From the darkness of the tree line that surrounds you, a figure emerges from the gloom. It's hooded and hunched as it slowly approaches, and you can see that the shape seems to be feminine as it draws nearer and nearer, then in almost a flash, sickly moonlight pierces the dense canopy and bathes all of you in a terrible pale hue, and it is then you see the face beneath the hood.

An old woman peers at you with deeply sunken eyes past a pointed nose, her face flanked by stringy graying hair. Much to your surprise, she's not particularly ugly and there's almost a warm motherly quality to her expression as she steps from the dark wood to face you and raises a wrinkled hand that extends to thin fingers of long yellow nails, as if beckoning something behind her as she opens her mouth and begins to speak.

At last, my sacrifice.

You've made it so far already and learned so much, but you are still so very blind. You use the power of the land to protect yourselves, but you forget to whom this land truly belongs. But you will see as I do, as your mother sees, as the midnight sees. And soon, so very soon,

All will be reborn in life. Your attention is drawn upward as you see that the source of the glow above you is the grinning hag moon, so close that you can see every crater on its crooked nose and bent teeth. Then the cacophony of snapping and cracking of tree booms around you as you feel the earth shake with the stomps of an enormous creature approaching. Then a shape appears above the old witch, seemingly suspended in air at first.

Then you see the terrible reality. The massive looming shape is merely a head attached to a vastly larger beast of the woods. As it enters the sickly moonlight and stands over the one who can only be Mother Midnight, you see the shaggy-haired, twisted-horned, red-eyed face of a colossal black goat as it lets out a fiendish, bellowing bleat that shakes you to the core of your souls, dark gifts and all. And that is where we'll end the session. Yee-haw!

That was awesome. Thank you so much for listening to the Legends of Avantris podcast. We hope you enjoyed the session. If you want even more campaigns to listen to, become a member of our Patreon at the Pearl Dolphin tier or higher to unlock Shroud over Saltmarsh, a patron-exclusive campaign set on the high seas. You can find that at patreon.com slash legendsofavantris.

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