Speaker 1: Hello adventurers.
Speaker 2: This is Jim Zubb, writer of Conan the Barbarian and
Dungeons and Dragons, and you're listening to the Tale of
the Manicor. The following podcast is intended for a mature audience.
Listener discretion is advised. Welcome back to Tale of the
Manticor Season three. Like the creature from which it takes
its name, Tale of the Manticor is a mashup, a
cross breeding between two different species of storytelling. Here you
will find the unpredictability of old school paper and dice
games with the story craft of a dark fantasy novel.
No character is sacred and none will be spared if
the dice decide their fate is at hand. According to lore,
the tail of a Manticor is barbed with cruel iron spikes.
There will be much pain in the days ahead. Last
time on Tail of the Manticor, in chapter nineteen, they
used a mechanic from my one Shot in the Dark
Ultra Light solo game, Degenerate the dungeon, that is the
moroc Family Crypt. After the initial room, which the companions
entered through the ceiling, they encountered a room of statues,
then followed a curving hallway, where they found the remains
of a tomb robber from long ago, impaled on a
sprung spear trap. The next encounter was far more dramatic.
At a four way intersection, the PCs came face to
while they met the headless ghost of Prince Learhane. Through
the use of a message spell, Achilie was able to
communicate with it and learn that the way to the
inner crypt was to the west. The scene is now
set for a climactic encounter as the quest to return
them the remains of the Kymoor Prince is about to
be completed, but we can't jump into the story just yet.
I'm impatient to find out what will happen next, and
I know that fair Wind only has a few minutes
of light remaining on his makeshift torch. But there's a
couple of things that need to be settled before the
story can go on. First up, I am happy to
announce that Achillea has made it to level three. I
do love a good level up, especially with magic users.
Let's get into it before my enthusiasm jinxes these dice.
Starting with a D four for new hit points, I've
got one Midnight outed two and Achillea's new total goes
up to nine. Not a very auspicious start, but that's okay.
Hit points are probably the least important part of a
magic user's character sheet. Let's move on to potential stat increases.
Going to the line and rolling a D six. Any
sixes will indicate a bonus. Let's begin strength A six
was not expecting that. I suppose it's from all the
time on the road. It has been over a couple
of weeks now, so I suppose that wood Toughener roub
ten goes to eleven. Intelligence A one wisdom, have got
a two dexterity another two? How about constitution two? Again,
that's the third in a row and our last chance
for one more stat increase charisma two huh? Four twos
in a row. You know, if those have been sixes,
I have worried that listeners wouldn't believe it, but twos
far more credible. Moving on, we are now rolling for
now spells, which is the only part of the magic
user's level up that truly matters. A lot is writing
on this role, both in terms of character power and
story development. Furthermore, Level three is where a wizard gets
their first second level spell. This means I need to
make a new table hang tight while I go away
and do that. I am back, and you know, that
was harder than I thought it would be. After pruning
spells that have featured prominently in previous seasons for the
sake of keeping things fresh, there wasn't much left that
really inspired. To be honest, second level spells are often
a bit underwhelming, and even some of the ones I've
selected from my season three list are well not especially inspiring. Anyway,
I picked ten potential spells, four of which are from
later editions of D and D. I'll post the list
on the blog after this episode airs, in case you're
curious to see it. Here's the role A nine. What's
that okay? Kind of appropriate for someone with elf blood.
I've got glitter Dust. Here's the brief. Glitter Dust fills
a twenty foot cube space with glittering particles. Those inside
it must save or be blinded for one D four
rounds plus one round per castor level. The spell can
reveal invisible creatures. It has a range of ten yards
per castor level. It's funny detect Invisible is one of
the spells I removed from my list of potentials and
the later edition blindness spell I chose not to include
because it overlapped with the continue you will light. If
I could shrug on a podcast, I would do that
right now. Anyway, glitter Dust does seem like a neat spell,
and I've never used it in any game before, so
if for no other reason, I'm quite satisfied with the role.
A quick note to say that Akelliya won't be able
to cast it until she has rested and studied. Moving
right along, I need to spend a minute or two
figuring out what the PCs are going to find in
the final room. In the last episode, I rolled that
there would be a dangerous encounter here. I have a
few options. They could encounter the vengeful spirit of Queen
Anaya or that of a court wizard, or there could
be something else looking in the inner crypt. As usual,
the dice will decide I'll roll a D eight and
say that on a one to three, the PCs will
face the ghost of Queen Anaya, on a four to six,
the court wizard, on a seven, it'll be something totally unexpected,
and on an eight it'll be a combination of foes.
The role a two, so it's Queen and Iya. Part
of me was hoping for that. I'll be honest. Let's
put a pin in that for a second and describe
the inner crypt. It's a wedge shaped room of about
sixty feet in length, twenty feet at the entrance and
forty at the back end, which bulges out slightly arranged.
Three to each side are stone slabs which have skeletons
reclining on them, dressed in ceremonial clothing. There's a seventh
slab at the rear of the crypt, between the final two.
But this lab is not only empty of any occupant,
it is cracked down the middle, sundered and broken in
two pieces. The occupants of the other six are starting
at the entrance and moving around the room counterclockwise. Morocin
and I his first child, who had died very young. Then,
halfway between the entrance and the back wall. On the
right side is a royal bodyguard in rusted armor. Next
is a slab holding the remains of the court wizard.
The broken slab he would have been Morocs, but he
didn't die in these lands is next. It was cracked
in half upon the event of Sidhal's curse. Continuing counterclockwise,
we have the Queen's slab, then another royal guard, and
finally the slab belonging to Prince lear Hain, or most
of them anyway, his skeleton is missing the skull. All
other skeletons have skulls that are decorated with jet in turquoise,
as was determined back in episode thirteen with the randomly
rolled mythic event meaning extravagant death. Finally, all the skeletons
also have some other small treasures or accouterments along with
their bones. All this implies that the tomb robbers who
initially stole Leirhan's skull got this far, robbed the tomb,
and then before they could take anything else left. I
think that they met the spirit of the queen, and
that it was the disturbing of the contents of the
tomb that invoked her wrath and caused her to appear.
I don't want to delay the narrative any longer, so
I think at this point I'll take off my DM
hat and let the story happen for a while. Whatever
needs to be figured out later could be figured out later.
Chapter twenty, Part one, Day sixteen, late afternoon mythic event
meaning agree tension party status Achillia nine out of nine points,
Cord eight of fourteen, de Anni nine of nine, ten
Tier ten of ten spells available. Achillea has memorized message
cord can cast, entangle, locate plants and animals, and slow poison.
Before she had taken three steps, Achillia felt a hand
on her shoulder. When she turned around, Fairwind was looking
down at her with a strange expression on his face.
Speaker 1: Just then, when the lights went out, At first I
thought we were all going to die.
Speaker 2: I I don't begin, Achillia, not really understanding. My second thought,
fair Wind continued.
Speaker 1: Was that I was going to die, having wasted my life,
having failed to do the one thing that I promised
Sadal I would do.
Speaker 2: The cleric paused, bit his lower lip and continued.
Speaker 1: But when the light came back on, that was Sidal
giving me a second chance.
Speaker 3: You see, I think so.
Speaker 2: But why are you telling me.
Speaker 1: This, Master, Killia, Because I believe that we are about
to face the darkness again, and I want you to
know that this time.
Speaker 2: Fair Wind tapped the holy symbol that hung around his
neck with the head of his cutchel.
Speaker 1: This time, whatever may happen. I promise to protect you,
all of you. You can trust me.
Speaker 2: I do trust you, said to Kilia. She reached into
her bag, feeling for Prince lear Haan's skull. Come on,
let's catch up to any intend here where a dozen
feed ahead of them, and it almost reached the archway
leading into the crypt beyond.
Speaker 4: Are you ready, little mouse?
Speaker 2: Reny to Tentyr. He could hear the conversation taking place
behind him, and although he couldn't understand the words, he
felt sure it did not concern him or his brother.
Tintyre's face was pale and his forehead was beaded with sweat,
despite the cool temperature underground. The younger elf nodded all
the same, I'm ready. They passed under the archway and
entered a kind of place that few elves have ever seen.
This is strange, said Tantyr, looking around in wonder and fear,
and tried to keep the tremor from his voice.
Speaker 1: Do all humans do this with their dead?
Speaker 2: He was referring to the method of burial, how the
corpses had been left exposed and supine on their stone
slabs to decay over decades, but he was also pointing
out that those skeletons that still had their skulls had
them decorated in jet and turquoise, just like the one
he had found in the Ogre's cave. De Reni did
not think that all humans did this with their dead,
but he wasn't really sure, so he just muttered, touched nothing,
and led them further inside. He too had noticed that
one of the stone slabs held a headless skeleton. It
was directly to their left when they entered. After the
others had passed under the archway and all the companions
were assembled, he pointed it out to Achilia. She nodded
grimly and pulled a bundle from her satchel Leirhe's skull
was still cocooned in her clothes to keep it safe.
She began to unwrap it. While she did that, fair
Wind looked round with an expression of determination on his face.
He saw that the crypt was shaped like an axe head,
narrow at one side and wide at the other. The
clearer c reguarded each of the slabs and their occupants
in turn. When his gaze reached the broken slab against
the middle of the fire wall, he pointed at it
with his cudgel that.
Speaker 1: One would have been moronx.
Speaker 2: Cord twisted his body to look and dis tarso gave
a little squeak of wood that contrasted with the stillness
of the crypt.
Speaker 1: Achilia, you may restore the prince to his final rest.
I will say the prayer for the dead.
Speaker 2: Achilie by now had the small decorated skull unwrapped and
cradled in both hands. She approached the prince's slab with solemnity.
The child had been about her height, she supposed, judging
by the bones and by what she had experienced in
her dreams. A few scraps remained of what had once
been a skirt of brocade, A small silver rod, wound
with silver thread and topped with an orb of some
white stone, laid by the prince's left hand. Achillie took
a deep breath and turned to Fairwind, who now held
his once again waning torch aloft.
Speaker 1: Oh, Divine Fire, we ask you to receive this loyal Emba,
who has spent the fuel of their life. Look over
and protect them. Let them join the stars in the sky,
so that they may bear witness to your magnificence and
glory for all eternity.
Speaker 2: He nodded to Achilia, who took this as her cue
to set the skull down. She did so, and the
clear continued.
Speaker 1: And by your blessings and grace, provide light for those
of us who yet burn, until we may too join
you in the heavens. With all our hearts, let this
be amen.
Speaker 2: There came a strange, keening noise from the far end
of the crypt before Farewin could speak its final word,
and as one the companions turned to look. Ten Tyr
was not assembled with the others around Leirhanes's lab. There
had not been enough room, and so he and Cord
were standing a little behind. The cleric's prayer, which he
couldn't understand, had quickly lost his interest, and so he
had turned instead to the slab opposite. This one also
bore the skeleton of a child, an even younger one.
He guessed the whole body would have measured only two
and a half feet from toes to top. It too
had a silver rod near its hand. Ten Tire had
only just put his fingers upon it when the cleric
said the final word of his prayer and the noise
had come. The young else snatched his hand away from
the rod as though it had burned his finger tips,
and snapped his head in the direction of the noise.
In the poor flickering light from Fairwin's torch, he saw
something strange and terrifying. Chapter twenty, part two, Day sixteen,
late afternoon mythic event meaning agree tension party status. The
party's status is unchanged. The queen's slab was vibrating. As
the vibrations grew stronger, the bones and the treasure placed
upon it began to hop and dance upon its flat surface,
as though a tiny earthquake was occurring directly below it.
Then a wisp of pale green smoke blew up from
the queen's remains. It rose into the air like a
ribbon caught in an eddy of wind, before taking on
the vague shape of a woman. As the vapors grew
more defined, the companions could see slashes and cuts covering face, neck,
and arms. In one of her arms was a swaddled bundle,
but the ghostly blanket wrapped around it was purple with blood.
The specter's eyes were dark hollows, and her hair streamed
out behind her, lifting and writhing like tentacles. Her whole
shape bobbed and undulated, defying gravity, as if it floated
not in air but under the water. In an otherworldly voice,
it spoke.
Speaker 5: Why haven't you come?
Speaker 3: You should not have.
Speaker 2: Come, demanded the apparition. When the party members failed to answer,
she let out a low moan, dropping her lower jaw
impossibly far as they were unhinged.
Speaker 5: Did you come here to mock the dead?
Speaker 3: Did you come home? You witness? Then look upon the
very picture of the lost and sake.
Speaker 2: Somehow Achillia found her voice, Your highness, we are here
to restore the remains of Prince lewhng that he might
find rest.
Speaker 5: Yes, yes, I can feel that my son has been
returned to me.
Speaker 3: And for this I would have thanked you. It would
not for the insults you flinged my face.
Speaker 2: Achillie had no idea where she had found the courage
to address this creature. It was waning quickly. I we
meant no offense, she said, meekly. No offense, seized the queen.
The apparition lifted her free arm and pointed to a
blood red fingertip at fair wind.
Speaker 3: And yes, you leave, but betray a servance to my
very gray.
Speaker 2: The spirit reared back once again, moaning in its awful voice,
and then surged forward, but at a short distance from
its lab it stopped, straining like a dog against its leash.
It must have been somehow tethered to her grave. It
groaned again, you slave, All the files are not well.
Fair One stood his ground, defiant in the face of
her wrath, and Achillee could not believe his bravery. She
saw him set down his makeshift torch at the foot
of lear hind slab, and then, with his hand now free,
reached for the holy symbol that hung from his neck
by a chain.
Speaker 3: Do not think to vanish for all the.
Speaker 6: Unjust I have complaint against you, my God, and thy
presence is hateful to me.
Speaker 1: So it all is the light of justice. It is
you who betrayed him.
Speaker 2: Fairwin called back. The cleric's threadbare gown had begun to
rustle and flap around him, as though he were standing
in a gust of wind.
Speaker 1: I shall endure no lies or blasphemies.
Speaker 5: The sins of the king inflicted upon his wife, his
people the innocent, and she call it justice. The darn
lies has blinded you, Priest.
Speaker 2: Fair Wind gripped his holy symbol. Now in a clenched fist.
He never broke eye contact with the eventful spirit for
a moment, and his voice did not waver.
Speaker 5: Be gone from this world, he yelled, go back to
whatever dark hell.
Speaker 1: You call home.
Speaker 2: Supernatural power enveloped the cleric. His robe was now flapping loudly,
and even his hair lifted in the spiritual wind.
Speaker 5: I ser no hell, priest, that's the the tree lost souls.
Speaker 3: There is another who suffers you too.
Speaker 2: The spirit's voice became sardonic.
Speaker 5: Your did hall wanted as aimlessly in the dark, sheddy ties.
Speaker 6: Of grief, grief over your failure, grief over you.
Speaker 1: Betrail, never speak that name.
Speaker 5: Oh yes, how suffer us, just as you all suffer
this transcression.
Speaker 2: The spirit swept her arm in a line in front
of her, leaving a silvery trail of vapor in his wake, aries.
Speaker 3: Faithful.
Speaker 2: When the motion was complete, the two skeletal warriors on
the crypts middle slabs sat up with pin cracks of
crimson light shining from the eye sockets of their jet
and turquoise covered skulls. Dramatis Personae Dalen fairwynd All followers
of Siddal embark on two six month pilgrimages as part
of their education. First, as a novice, they are paired
with a mentor to learn firsthand how to spread the
word among the common people. When finished, the mentor blesses
the novice and grants them their own holy symbol, marking
them as full members of the church. Some years later,
when the mentor deems them ready, the novice becomes the
teacher and is paired with their own acolyte. Dalen had
earned his holy symbol some thirty years ago, when he
had only just reached adulthood. When the time came for
him to lead another in the way of the faith,
he could hardly believe the day had arrived. His life
as a clerk had all gone by so quickly. He
was assigned a novice named Harlow Errands, a red, thin,
slouching young man with dark hair and a tremulous, wispy voice.
At first, blush, they seemed an odd fit, the garrulous,
enthusiastic priest and the withdrawn, reclusive acolyte. But over many
miles of walking on the long road to cameronth Dalen
gradually drew Harlow out of his shell. To pass the time,
they would create poetry together, adding stanzas to each other's work,
as they mused on the blessings of Sadhul and the
beauty of the natural world.
Speaker 1: My eyes drink in the forest green, and bird song
fills my ears.
Speaker 3: Si dolvvines the morning light and eases all my fears.
Speaker 2: These poems proved an effective way to open the hearts
of the villagers outside the city, and after months of
traveling from town to town as missionaries, they had crafted
an impressive body of work. Dalen and Harlow were eager
to return to the Church of the Sacred Flame in
sol Moor and add their poems to the library.
Speaker 3: And after that, will I be read taty for my
own symbols at all?
Speaker 1: Harlow had asked, Soon soon, my brother patience in all.
Speaker 2: Things, came the reply from Dalen, but he was just
as excited to reward his faithful protege. That excitement turned
to dread when they finally returned to so Moral and
approached the church and found the proclamation nailed to the
front door. It had read, whereas we have taken into
our royal consideration, it is hereby decreed that all properties
and child belonging to the Church of the Sacred Flame
beheld in custody for an indefinite period of time by
royal order. All residents are hereby placed under arrest pending
the trial of the following accused of treason. Some three
dozen names were listed thereafter, including that of Arness. The
High Priestess. Dalen and Harlowe had been speechless at first,
but later they learned by talking to some townfolk that
their brothers and sisters of the cloth had been dragged
out in chains, beaten and bloody weeks earlier. An old
beggar they spoke with told them.
Speaker 4: They passed calfree. If I didn't know that all you
priests of the Old Order heretics to the Crown. Every
soul they used to live in Yonder Church now rots
in his dungeons. So now where am I supposed to
get my bread? In Ioline? Spare a penny for a
good man, brother?
Speaker 2: White eyed Harlow looked to his mentor.
Speaker 3: Daven, we must save them.
Speaker 2: Shaking, Daleen tucked the holy symbol that hung around his
neck into the folds of his room and said, no.
Speaker 1: Harlow, it's far too dangerous, Saidan. We'll provide for our brethren,
our mission has changed. No, we must leave.
Speaker 2: With that, they hurried back out the city gates. Refugees
from the city they called home. That night, they huddled
by their campfire, racked with worry. At last, Harlow broke
the silence.
Speaker 3: Do you think our brothers and mere poor are safe?
Speaker 2: I I hope so, Daleen had replied.
Speaker 1: We must put our trust in Sadal's mercy.
Speaker 2: The next morning they made their way to Merepool to
give warning to the church there, but their distress was
only deepened by what they found. A falanx of Colfrey's
guards lingered in the town square, eyeing the villagers and
laughing gruffly among themselves. The chains on the church door
were visible even at a distance. We dare not stay here,
Daleen said, in low tones. But I know now where
we must go. Thus began their journey of several weeks
to the birthplace of the Cayhorse. The duel were unprepared
for the length and hardships of the journey, and their
remaining food was quickly depleted. The men soon found themselves
battling hunger panes on top of the rigors of the wilderness.
Once again, they used poetry to lift their spirits on.
Speaker 3: We trudge through day and night, beset by grief and fear.
Speaker 1: Our single candle has the light to make our journey clear.
Speaker 2: Days passed, and then weeks. Dalen began to regret his
decision to steer clear of physician settlements. While he he
retained much of his natural vitality, Harlow's bare frame became
nearly skeletal. Water had been easy enough to find, but
the companions had been without ample food for days. By
the time they finally reached the ruins. Amidst the broken
stone foundations was one crumbling building that remained mostly intact. Inside,
they found shelter from the elements, but little else. Harlow
slumped to the dirt floor as desk settled in, Daleen
made a fire and said.
Speaker 1: Rest, my friend, I'll find us something to eat.
Speaker 2: He grabbed a torch and headed out, delirious with hunger
and fatigue. Venturing amongst the ruins, as dusk gave way
to night, Dalen was startled to see another figure moving
between the scraggly trees some fifty feet away.
Speaker 1: Hello, hello, friend, praise it all.
Speaker 2: Dalen made his way eagerly in their direction, but As
he got closer, he realized something was a miss. The person,
if you could call them, that, wore the simple garb
of a farm, but their skin hung in tatters, and
their lifeless eyes stared at nothing. The creature suddenly became
aware of Daleen and lurched at him. Daleen fell to
the ground and scrambled away. As it bore down upon him.
He instinctively reached for his holy symbol and shouted.
Speaker 1: Get back, The light of Sadal protects me.
Speaker 2: The silver medallion shone brightly in the dark, and the
creature turned away, retreating to the shadows. For some moments later,
Daleen lay on the ground, gasping for air. In his studies,
he had been taught that the undead were unable to
harm a preach of Sadal who wielded his holy symbol
with faith, but this was his first actual experience of it.
He clung to the medallion and wept with gratitude. Suddenly
he bolted up no hull. Without a holy symbol of
his own, he would be helpless if one of these
monsters were to find him. He scrambled to his feet,
grabbed the torch, and ran as fast as he could
back to the ruins. As Daleen drew closer, his fir
fears were realized. The door to the building was off
its hinges, and just in front of it, another zombie
was tearing at Harlow, who was helplessly weak, unable to
put up any resistance. Daleen brandished to symbol again, turning
the vile thing away, but the damage was done. Bloody
scratches and bite wounds too numerous account ravaged Harlow's face, neck,
and limbs. Dale dropped to the ground and cradled the
novice priest's head.
Speaker 1: Oh I'm so sorry. Oh this is my fault. I'm
so sorry.
Speaker 2: Harlow looked up at Daleen, the light rapidly fading from
his eyes.
Speaker 3: Whispered, A single candle has a light to make ud Johnny.
Speaker 1: Craa, aren't we trudge through day and night? Beset my
grief and fear?
Speaker 2: Daleen sobbed in reply, as Harlow took his last breath.
Fairwind is trying to turn this spirit, but what he
doesn't know is that he is completely outclassed. There is
no chance for him to turn Queen and Iyah. Her
type of undead is just not within reach of a
first level cleric, So what exactly is she? I looked
through every monster book I had and rejected everything I
came across. She's not a white or a ghost or
a specter. She isn't a crimson spirit or a revenant.
I was looking for something in the neighborhood of wraith,
or even the Eurona, if you're familiar with that kind
of supernatural entity. I looked at the Banshee and the
Groaning Spirit, but these were not really appropriate. Even a
straight up Wraith would not work, mostly because any of
these foes, especially the level draining ones, are simply too
powerful for the PCs to face, and I did want
an encounter that the Pieces could at least try to fight.
All this is my long winded way of saying, I'm
making up a new monster for this encounter. I'll start
with the Wraith as a base and then make some tweaks.
A wraith is a four hit dye monster with a
morale of twelve. These stats stay the same. They are
immune to sleep, charm, and hold spells, and can only
be hit by silver or magic weapons. These elements also
stay the same. But bear with me, you'll see where
I'm going with this thing. A wraith attacks with a
necrotic touch that does one to six points of damage
and drains a level on a mist saving throw. This
is the part that gets cut. Queen Anaya is a
different kind of wraith. We'll call her a cursed wraith.
She cannot attack directly. Instead, she can animate an amount
of dead around her equal to her own hint dice.
She could have animated four one hit dye skeletons with
the remains in the crypt, but instead she has put
two hit dye into each of her former royal bodyguards,
and it appears that they will now serve her one
last time. There's no need to roll up the Queen's
hit points, but I will roll up and go over
the stats for the skeletal warriors. They each have eleven
hit points. They have an armor class of normal scal
Eleatans have a descending AC of seven, which I think
is thirteen ascending. But these guys are wearing some rusted
plate mail. I'm ruling that they'll have an AC of fifteen.
They wield long swords, so that's one to eight points
of damage on a successful hit. Finally, even though the
b X book does not include the rule that skeletons
take half damage from piercing and edged weapons. I do
like that aspect, and I balance this encounter with the
ability in mind, so I'm putting it in. The Eleven
Brothers swords and Achilles' knife will be much less effective
in this fight than Fairwood's cudgel. Kord's axe is heavy
and I think would do full damage. That's my ruling anyway.
If the Queen's bodyguards are destroyed, Anaya will not be
able to use her powers again that day, and so
the battle will essentially be over. The Queen's spirit will
be forced to return to her purgatory. Looking at the
run time for this episode, I see that we're already
well over the twenty minute mark. I can't enter into
combat at this point. I'll need to say that for
next time. Instead, I'll just invite you to imagine this
scene as a freeze frame, with fair Wind clutching his symbol,
face defiant, with the companions poised on the verge between
fight and flight, with the skeleton warriors hopping nimbly off
their slabs, and with the spectral Queen tormented, full of
hate and thirsting for revenge. Thank you for listening to
and for supporting Tale of the Mantigor. This episode has
run longer than usual, so I'm going to jump right
into the credits and this episode features a big cast.
In order of appearance, this episode's voice actors are Dave
Cooper as fair Wind, Kyeen as de Rennie, Kevin Barringer
as ten Tier, Fiona Howitt, host and GM of the
What Are My Rolling Podcast as the Wraith of Queen,
and Ayah Winston Cooper as Harlowe the Novice, and Karl
White of the Load Inventurer Podcasts as the old Beggar.
My eternal gratitude goes to all my actors. Each of
them did a superb job. Extra thanks is due to
Dave Cooper, who wrote this episode's dramatis persona section in
which some of Fairwin's backstory is revealed. Great job Dave,
who nailed it. The adventure will continue on the next
episode of Tale of the Manticor It's the story where
chaos roles