《The Goblins: Grandma's Rise and Return》 Document 1: The Letter VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª ¡°Welcome back Jujubees!¡± A young auburn twenty something girl speaks into the camera. ¡°I wanted to start this video by apologizing for going radio silent for the last week¡­¡± she glances around the room. ¡°But I¡¯m back making videos again now! So, everything is ok.¡± ¡°Anyway, guys look around, this isn''t my apartment! I know you all must have so many questions; Where did I go? What happened? Why am I recording somewhere new? Do I have some kind of super-secret new content I was getting ready all last week?¡± She steps back from the camera, letting the viewers see more of the room. She is standing in what looks like a hunting lodge, wood everywhere. With stuffed game and other random objects mounted on the walls. The vast majority of those other things look like well-made, historically accurate, medieval weapons. The armory covering the wall around the fireplace is less imposing than you might expect. The various stuffed trophies, however, are significantly more bizarre. They all could be rare mutations of classic wildlife, but many of them would look more at home in some out-of-the-way tourist trap in Oregon. The kind of place that might try to convince you that mythical legendary beasts and cryptids still roamed the American woodlands. The rest of the room has big, cushioned leather chairs facing towards the fireplace. On the whole the room somehow manages to be cluttered but cozy. The oddity of the space is so overwhelming it wraps right around to being normal. The only thing breaking up the cozy hunting lodge aesthetic are the boxes. The boxes are everywhere. In the chairs, stacked up by the fireplace, on top of and under every table in the room. Containers of all shapes, sizes, and types dominate the room, papers and trinkets overflowing out of many of them barely contained. The girl spreads her arms showing off the clutter. ¡°Well, I have answers, and some new bizarre content. First, though, I¡¯ve got to tell you why I disappeared for a week.¡± She takes a deep breath, then looks right into the camera lens. ¡°My Grandma is dead.¡± She lets that sit for a moment, staring sadly into the camera. ¡°For the last week since I got the news, I¡¯ve been an absolute wreck, crying, screaming, being dramatic¡­ I did not take it well. I know, it just sucks. I just¡­¡± It looks hard for her to get these words out. ¡°Those of you who have been following for a long time probably have a good idea what happens next. The family got involved. For the new viewers, my family sucks. We''re like the poster children for dysfunction.¡± The girl sits down on a chair made of boxes, centered in frame. She has to hold herself down to the seat, her hands white on the handles of the plastic crates at the front of the improvised chair. ¡°The funeral was terrible, Jujubees. Wish I had thought to secretly record it so you guys could have seen it. It was a freaking clown show for the poor woman. Seriously. I know my Gran wasn¡¯t perfect, but nobody will tell me why they hated her so much.¡± The girl slumps against the cardboard boxes backing her seat. ¡°She was cool, always had these stories,¡± her voice shakes. ¡°And apparently, she was rich, like stupid rich. That''s why the whole family even bothered to show up.¡± She stays leaning back for a few seconds, sniffs, then hauls herself up to stand right in front of the camera again. ¡°It¡¯s ok guys. I¡¯m ok.¡± another sniff, ¡°What¡¯s important is Juju here,¡± she points at herself, ¡°has got a new case to dig into, on request from my late Grandmother herself. She''s specifically asked me to share it with all of you, my wonderful viewers.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°My Grandma left me a letter, her house, and everything in it. We, viewers, will start with the letter and over the next few weeks will get to the rest. If half of what is in this letter can be confirmed, we are all in for one of the greatest unboxing series of all time.¡± She leans in and shows the camera an envelope. Holding it there for a second so the camera can focus on the name written in a beautiful flowing cursive, Judy Jubrie. She pulls the envelope back and grabs out the letter and speaks with a smile that now reaches her obviously red and puffy eyes. ¡°As you all already know, all documents I refer to in my videos will be tagged in the description. Those of you who would like to follow along with this mystery, check that out, like, and subscribe to the channel. Now, let''s find out. Who was my Grandmother really?¡± END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª
Dear Jujube, If you are reading this, I am dead. This is the third time I¡¯ve written those words. It is, however, the first time writing such here on Earth. Those words never seem to lose their edge, clich¨¦d as they are. Movies get the intentions and weight behind those words completely wrong, of course. They are not written down for the person who reads them. No, I have always written them down for myself. They are a reminder. You are about to risk it all. This could be the end. You are about to die. It gets me in the right headspace, you See? Now Judy, I¡¯m rambling, but I fear I must. The words I write down here and the path they will send you down scare me. They are words and a story that has hurt me greatly. I fear they will hurt you too. So you must share them, spread the load, so that the greatest accomplishments and the greatest tragedy of my life does not crush you as well. I hope That Youtube reaches as many as you say, you will need them all. Now ever curious and observant as you are I am certain you have already noticed how oddly I began this letter. It is true, I have written those words before, but not on Earth. Do not jump to conclusions Jujube now, I am no astronaut. You will have to Learn that Life is much more bizarre than you ever could have thought. It was called Elentier, the new world I was whisked away to, one of many as I now understand it. Your grandfather remembered the day I left him, and he never believed or forgave me till the day he died. Your father is still angry with me, as is his right, I don''t know if he believes my story or not. To him whatever reasons I had to abandon my son will never be good enough. I respect less your aunt''s opinion, she pities me, still believing that I left on some depraved drug fueled trip. She has forgiven me for it, but will never believe my story of what had happened. I have not Accepted that forgiveness. I hope you, granddaughter, will see through it all as you so often do. See right to the truth of the tale. Why I disappeared long before you were born. Why the family hates and pities me for it, and why despite that I still love them. Why I must still Love them. I¡¯m rambling again, let me return to the point. That world was called Elentier. I arrived there with no warning. Pulled right from the living room. Right off of the couch no more than a few rooms away from your father and your aunt, both too young to be left alone. What happened there is too much to put in this letter. My story, and the proof of its reality, is left to you in the house I bequeathed to you in the will. It begins with the golden box, inside are my diaries. Pay close attention to the goblins, they are much more important than I believed them to be at first. I dearly wish that one of the tribe''s sayings will hold true here. It takes one generation to make a great mistake, another to ignore it, and the third to fix it. Though I suppose the spirit of that saying doesn¡¯t feel nearly as positive to us humans. I love you Jujube, Very much. With Love, Grandma Trinday
Document 2: The First Box VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª ¡°That''s one heck of a letter,¡± Judy lowers the page, ¡°At first I didn¡¯t believe it. For a while I thought one of you was just going for some cruel joke.¡± She looks into the camera with a serious face. ¡°It wouldn''t be the first time one of my viewers took me on some wild goose chase.¡± ¡°But no such luck. All of this had to be real. Anyway, the letter tells me to start with the golden box.¡± The girl turns around and lifts a small plastic tote into view, placing it on a table just in front of the box chair she had been sitting on. ¡°Now I would call this more yellow than gold, but grandma did always have a flair for the dramatic.¡± ¡°Now I haven¡¯t opened this box yet, so this will be a surprise for us both. Actually," Judy pauses for effect, "Jujubees let''s play a game, pause the video and leave a comment for what you think will be in the golden box. I''ll pin the best guess.¡± She gives a second for people to pause, then unclips the tote¡¯s lid. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The first Item out of the box is an old-battered leather-bound diary. It is splotched and dirty, nearly falling apart. A large section of the pages in the beginning of the notebook have been ripped out, leaving nothing more than tiny remnants of the pages close to the spine. The first entries are handwritten with a blue ballpoint pen and read as follows: March 5, 1985 Today was another quiet day, Gordon promised me he will find a new job soon. Jessica¡¯s teacher sent home a note telling me I should consider some accelerated options for her classes in the future. I am quite proud of her ability in academics, I hope Preston can compare when he begins schooling next year. In other news, I have become quite proficient in crocheting while watching the two of them grow. Preston kept himself busy and quiet all today as well, finally letting me finish the blanket. It looks quite good on the bed, I hope Gordon comes home early enough to appreciate it. March 6, 1985 I do not know where I am. I am in danger. I am hiding from the green children. I was home and then I was here. I cannot find Preston. I cannot find Jessica. I do not know if I should wish to have left them behind or hope to find them here. Gordon must keep them safe. March 8? 9? 1985 I do not know how long it has been, I have guessed two days, safety is hard to find. The green demons are everywhere, their red eyes and shrieking keep me awake at all hours. I pray that my children or husband did not follow me here. If they did, I fear they are dead. I do not know how I came here, or what manner of sin I committed to be tormented so. The green demons travel together in packs, ripping anything that moves to shreds with their sharp teeth and fingers. There are hundreds I think, they are hard to tell apart. I am lucky. I arrived inside some kind of ruins, surrounded by the green ones. The evil creatures were just as shocked to see me as I was to see them. I was able to bolt out of the room and deeper into these ruins. Wherever this is, it is unexplored by civilized people, if such a grand castle occupied by little green devils had been found, I would have heard of it. I am hiding in some long-forgotten library for now. It has a door. I have blocked that off, and there is no other way in or out that I could find. March 10?, 1985 Where is this? The books are written in some foreign language, I have never seen anything similar before. Have I been transported so far away from Boston? How? If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. March 11? 1985 I found a secret stair today behind an old rotting shelf deep in the back corner of the library! In it, I found salvation!!! Ten jars of honey, about the size of my fist around and two fists high. I will be able to live hidden away here for a little longer. Alongside the honey was a massive tome, that is truly the best way to describe the book. The thing was as tall as I, sized as if it was meant for a giant. It rested on a stand made just to its size, taking up almost the whole rest of the room. I assume it was hidden away here because it was important. I will start trying to translate this first. The stairs themselves lead spiraling up and up, it must have been twenty or thirty stories. It was¡­ challenging to ascend. But worth the journey. Attached at the top of the tower was a telescope. Somehow still in perfect condition. It felt odd to the touch, like a balloon that sticks to your hand after you rub it on the carpet. I can watch those green demons in secret from the tower with it. I also got a good look at the lands around the ruin, I am deep in a forest. It spreads beyond even the telescope''s sight. With no civilization in that range. The forest is like nothing I have seen, I recognize none of the trees, not an oak or birch in sight. To reference home, we are not in Kansas anymore, I hope this new land is as kind to me as Oz was for Dorothy. March 14, 1985 Those little green demons are not as intimidating as my first impression had made them to be. I believe there are close to two hundred of them around this castle, far less than I feared. I am confident in those numbers, despite the difficulty in telling them apart. I have had to take pages and pages of notes, counting and distinguishing the monsters. Escape without notice will still be nigh impossible. They are, however, much less animalistic than I thought, as they are shockingly proficient at making tools and solving complex problems. If we could communicate, perhaps I could negotiate safe passage. However, the little green monsters are foolhardy. I have seen nearly ten or twenty of them die each day. When faced with a new problem, be it terrain or creature, the tribal little demons throw bodies at it until they find a solution. More often than not, it results in the group of the critters as well as whatever problem they face being shredded into little pieces. No matter the type of problem, wall or wolf. Despite all of this death, I have noticed no decline in population. Wherever the new monsters are coming from, they reproduce at an unprecedented rate. March?, 1985 The green children are closer to human than I had thought. I have spent much of the time in my tower watching them. America had to be taught not to judge the quality of character based on skin, I should do my best to learn such important lessons only once. I have been observing the culture of these creatures. Searching for a weakness. It has not made me feel any safer. They live by the rule of the jungle, the strong survive, the weak are killed off. I do not question what will happen should they learn of my library inside of this ruin. They will fall upon me in a horde, rip me apart, and eat me. Bones and all. Their chittering and screeches are absolutely a language of sorts, they are highly tribal and territorial. Each group stays in their own areas, with maybe as many as fifty of the critters in each tribe. Fights between tribes are common, quick, and bloody affairs. I wonder if it might be possible to escape by turning the tribes against each other? I must keep in mind, though; my survival depends on expecting more from these green children than I would from beasts in the forests. I must make a plan soon; my honey is running low. I can feel myself weakening. Knowledge is truly the only thing I can trust to keep me alive; my hidden library seems to be determined to keep its grasp on that knowledge equally hidden. The tome¡¯s language seems to hold no secrets I can penetrate. I do not claim to be an expert, but it is some script I have never seen before. I have my guesses as to what a few scraps and pages say, but certainty is far beyond me, as is much of the world outside this stone ruin. I have seen things I cannot describe. March? 1985 Translation is beginning to work. I am either delirious, or I begin to understand. Wherever I am it is nothing like earth, these texts speak as if magic is real. I fear I am going mad. My hope that this may be the key to communication with the green ones is beginning to dwindle. What is written here is beyond them. I am very, very hungry. The honey ran out days ago.¡­ I wonder If I cannot find another use for these books. The next thing out of the box is an even older, more weathered page than the diary. The page is massive, it had to be folded into quarters to even fit into the tote, the material nearly disintegrating at the creases as it unfolded. It is covered in a huge diagram, with foreign text scrawled about the page. Each group of text is annotated with the same blue pen as the diary: Document 3: Public Record VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª A beam of light from a window somewhere in the ceiling had slowly crept along the floor as Judy read out the diary to her subscribers. As she finishes reading the most recent entry, the beam finally reaches her, illuminating her like a spotlight, turning her reddish-brown hair into a deep fiery red. She slowly lowers the old and beaten diary, hardly noticing the light, lost in thought as she sets it on the table next to the golden tote. Her eyes are focused on the open page she just finished. Not into the frame of the camera, which is odd because that was where she had been focused on while speaking to her audience when starting the video. Those eyes are also changed by the light, tinted from their normal gray with just the slightest shade of copper green. The scene at that moment is stunning. A lonely, sad girl. Eyes, red and puffy, focused entirely on an old dirty diary. Thoughts lost among her grandmother¡¯s memoir and mountains of that person''s old, forgotten things. Well-lit by stage lights, which for the moment are overwhelmed by a beam of sunlight, motes of dust swirling and gleaming, falling on her from above. In that quiet moment, you can see Judy''s face change oh so subtly, her mind working through the beginnings of what her grandmother left for her to find. First, her brow wrinkles in, and her head leans a fraction to the side. Confused. Then her brow curls farther, her head rights itself, and her mouth turns down to a frown. Anger? Disappointment? Lastly, her brow relaxes, and her frown deepens. Sadness. Finally, she speaks. ¡°What is this, Grandma? I¡­ Fantasy? Am I supposed to believe this? I thought the letter thing wasn''t Literal, I thought it was a metaphor or something. The letter talked about Elenteir like it was just a different state of mind or something. I was thinking it was a drug.¡± Now her face shifts back to anger, still speaking to the journal, her audience forgotten, ¡°How could you do this to me? You leave me some mysterious letter. You promised me answers, reasons, this is where it starts? Some kind of isekai? What the ~BEEP~ is this? I do true crime and unsolved case videos, Grandmother, not creative writing!¡± She stands up abruptly, and begins to grab things out of the golden tote next to the diary. First she takes out a massive sheet of folded paper, the size of the small crate, even folded into quarters as it is. The page crackles as she whips it through the air, the ancient paper threatening to fall apart. ¡°What the ~BEEP~ else is in here? A ~BEEP-ING~ dragon?¡± She continues to pull stuff out of the crate, a wooden badge is slammed down on the table, followed by a thick sheaf of papers with a sticky note attached to the top page. An old, battered and dented fountain pen is tossed down next. Finally, she has to lean down and grab something in the container with both hands, hauling it out before using her arm to knock away the now empty gold tote to get space to set the object down in the tote''s place on the coffee table. There is no slamming this thing down, not without risking it breaking, so Judy, even in her anger, takes care when placing it down. The thing sits in the center of the table like the centerpiece of a dining set, though whatever dining room that could be completed by such a device would look closer to an alchemist''s workshop than a proper place to eat. There are five golden arms that make up the first part of the device, the first one arcing out away from the body of the thing, it distances itself from the rest in more ways than just physical. It has a rigid and mechanical shape, instead of flowing natural contours, and comes to a sharp needle point at the end. The arm has three little mechanical knobs evenly spaced down its length, which are completely unmarked, whatever they are there to calibrate must not be something the user would need precisely measured. The other four golden arms support the second part of the device, starting from the table they swirl around the center, modeled to look like vines or maybe smoke, tightly securing an orb in place. The orb itself is almost a foot in diameter and almost completely clear, a few air bubbles or tiny breaks in the crystal structure are scattered through the sphere to mar its perfection, but externally it is perfectly round and smooth. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°What even-?¡± The effort of moving the thing, and the sheer bizarreness and obvious expense of the device, throw Judy right back into her initial confusion. ¡°How am I going to explain this to my sub-¡± Judy finally looks back into the camera, a guilty expression on her face, reminded that she has an audience. ¡°Well, uhh, I¡¯m confused.¡± she begins,¡° Honestly this is nothing like what I had expected guys. I really should have reviewed what my grandma had left me before recording, huh? Well, it is what it is, and what it is; is my grandma¡¯s last wish.¡± She has to pause there and look around the room, seeming to remind herself of where she is. ¡°So even if this is some insane fictitious account, I¡¯m still going to cover it on the channel. I¡¯m sorry if you guys aren''t a fan of that. I¡¯ll be ending this first video here so I can take a better look at what we are dealing with for the next one. Remember to like the video, subscribe to the channel, and pay attention to the mysteries around us. JuJu out.¡± END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª
PippinpaddleopsicopolisTheThird June 7 | 4:30~pinned by JuJubee What''s in the box? It''s your grandma''s dirty secret!...bad fantasy? Seriously though, I''m super sorry you have to go through all of this. Your family sounds like the worst though. I think your grandma might be explaining some of that from beyond the grave here. Dont worry about the crazy stuff im here for it. Stay strong JuJu! [Like] 4.3K [Dislike] [Comment] 236 Replies >
FLERFDECTECTIVE June 10: 3:03 Woah this is crazy, I think her grandma really believes this ****. I found this obituary in the Colorado tribune, get this. Her grandmother was hit by a truck. LOL [Like] (200) [Dislike] [Comment]
Z3rkxx June 10: 3:10 wtf? not cool dude thats creepy [Like] (2K) [Dislike] [Comment]
Dean W June 10: 3:11 Link or its not real [Like] (543)) [Dislike] [Comment]
FLERFDETECTIVE June 10: 3:14 Here. Fic//:88440 [Like] (367) [Dislike] [Comment]
RighteousWD June 10: 3:47 People like this are why what makes Gen Z so terrible. Look at this guy JuJu''s grandmas dead and all he can do is dig up **** and make fun of her KYS man if you had any common sense you would keep stuf like that to yourself your probebly mean to fast food workers too go touch grass. This makes me soo angery why go through the effort t... Read more [Like] (138) [Dislike] [Comment]
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Mad Crustless Smy June 8: 8:12 I don''t mind fiction content. TYF the video! [Like] (20) [Dislike] [Comment]
Sazed iz Best June 14: 12:34 Disappears for a week and comes back with an awesome new series. I''m sending prayers for your grandma. I''m sure she''s smiling down from heaven watching you do the coolest unboxing ever. I wonder what that thing Juju pulled out from the box was I''ve never seen anything like it before. [Like] (34) [Dislike] [Comment] 4 Replies >
Document 4: Civilization The document on top of the stack of papers appears to be some kind of official record. A mix of printed words and structured lines are put to the page alongside handwritten text to fill in the blanks. It is odd to see the precise lettering so close to the handwritten scrawl. The printed section is entirely flawless, not a line out of place, almost as if made by a modern printer. The paper is a yellowed color, not from old age but as the natural shade of whatever the pages were constructed from. The purple sticky note attached to the top reads in the ever-present blue pen: R1.17.15 Removed from Redacted Files #17
OFFICIAL ADVENTURERS'' GUILD DOCUMENT
Submitted by: Helvia warren
POST-MISSION REVIEW Accepted by: Falners Rangers
TASK Greenrot keep goblin subjugation
DESCRIPTION Accompany duke Boren¡¯s men to the keep. Assist in reducing the goblin den¡¯s numbers. Search deeper into the dungeon to recover artifacts and treasure
REWARDS 5 silver/ Goblin Ear, 10% stake in the sale of artifacts personally recovered. Percentage of other treasures to be assigned by contribution
REPORT
Nothing to report on travel to the Keep. Boren runs a tight ship. We made no discoveries on the week-long journey through the forest. Monster attacks were minimal. No Injuries. The keep was a mess, it¡¯s always a mess, none of the newbies were ready. If any of them need a dressing down for some overblown heroic report let me know. Though Uliuns Swords were surprisingly effective, we almost had a TPK from Bardic Reeds, Ulin saved them. We had 14 injuries, 4 deaths, and 1 missing among the 22 adventurers on the mission. No deaths in the rangers but Rickle got a pretty nasty cut. Despite all of the craziness this is the fourth keep subjugation we¡¯ve done with Boren¡¯s knights. Remind me to thank the brilliant bugger who had the idea to make a map last time. We got way deeper into the dungeon this time; the duke will be quite happy with the number of artifacts recovered. By my count there were six of varying quality, none captured by Falners Rangers unfortunately. We did however find some old stash of valuables in a chest. I estimate the total haul will be close to 1700 gold for everything found, excluding artifacts, make sure this duke doesn¡¯t skim some off the top that he doesn¡¯t deserve. Last thing, this is going to sound crazy Helvia, I¡¯m pretty sure we found a Traveler. The knights don¡¯t know. I managed to pass her off as a poor abducted villager. I¡¯m going to need some help from the guild. This could be big. Solen, Leader of Falners Rangers
REWARDS GIVEN 100 silver or 1 gold for goblins slain. 29 gold 75 silver for contribution
STATUS
ACCEPTED & PAID
Beneath the report is a huge stack of papers, which appear to be the beginnings of a textbook. It is entirely printed this time, and still on that oddly yellow paper. The book is missing its binding, the glue on some of the pages indicating that it had been bound together at one point. Looking into the document the Jujubee mysteries discord indicates that the textbook is missing the last half, about 200 pages. The last few pages that are still attached to the book are unreadable, damaged by water and dirt. Whatever this book was used for it was not reading. What follows here is the introduction.
Fall of the Dark Races & Rise of a Golden Age This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. A human perspective of recent history Written by: Ritter M. Frank It is a uniquely human fault to forget the events of the past, our short life span and eager temperament leave us far behind the civilized races in memory. What humanity thinks of as ¡®long past forgotten by time¡¯ is to a dwarf ¡®an ancestral account¡¯ or to an elf ¡®recent history¡¯. However, the march of innovation and progress favors our race¡¯s traits. With the free ability to record and organize information we have created solutions to such weakness. Thus, I write this textbook, so that history will never again be leveraged against us unfairly by those longer-lived races. This will cover our history going back nearly a hundred years, as going any farther back leaves us with no reliable human records of events. There will be no sources beyond those created by humanity. To ask for history from any race beyond humans would corrupt the very purpose and truth of this record. Before any learning can be done about history, we must first know the whole of what leads us to the present. Without a firm grasp on this timeline, all understanding of an event''s context, cause, and effect are lost. I shall introduce the history known by humanity in a summary here to display the concepts in this textbook and to provide such pivotal context. So, students, read these accounts carefully and take forward into the future their knowledge. No more shall dwarves ridicule us for hasty judgment, and improper records of lineage. No more shall elves speak of humans as ridiculous apes endlessly stuck in cycles repeating history once a centennium. Now we too shall forge ahead and define the future, learning from every mistake in our pasts! .............- Professor Ritter Introduction The only reliable statement that can be made referencing the previous age is that it ended with the fall of the dark races. In this time the powerful nations of the world were not composed of only civilized peoples. Poor and pitiable places were instead ruled by barbaric tribes. You would know of them today as the orcs, the demon-folk, and goblins. A large portion of this very continent was overlorded by the worst and most despicable of those races; the orks. At the dawn of humanities current golden age, our wise King, Othenoth, realized the danger and depravity of such creatures. The orks were, in this time, at the peak of their warlike ways. Their horrid nation had consumed much of the nomadic lands of the demon-folk and encroached upon the borders of the civilized nations. Othenoth devised a plan with the dwarves and elves to push back the threat of the orks'' dark lord. The plan devised was simple, retaliate before the expansionist orks reached their borders. To pinch the retreating demon-folk between a combined civilized force and the orks¡¯ dark horde. The civilizing force would filter the demon-folk, letting the natural and docile beast folk through their lines and offering them sanctuary, then pushing the aggressive and warlike demons toward the orks. After the ork front lines were softened by the demons they would be pushed back across the continent. Any other such barbaric races would be swept away alongside the orks. And so it was, the black tide was swept away and the civilized races, led by humanity, claimed the continent. What is now called the Great Civilizing War. So thorough was wise King Othenoth that, over the course of the thirty-year war, he ensured, even to this day, not a single demon or ork can be found from coast to coast across our great lands. The one failing of the Great Civilizing War was the goblins, who lived deep in the forests, mountains, and swamps. With a nasty habit of multiplying like rats, they prove to this day to be impossible to fully eradicate. King Othenoth realized this and saved his campaign''s momentum from being halted by these pockets of goblins, instead passing them by and bottling them up inside their isolated homes. To make sure the goblins were kept in check, he created the Adventures Guild and gave it its endless mission; Ensuring all the monsters are carefully monitored, and the spots they frequent checked, and their populations cleansed. Goblins will never rise to be a threat to humanity. Othenoth led the way for his descendant, King Vorenth, to lead us into a golden age. During the conquest of the orks it was discovered that they had desecrated and ruined their lands with great machines, things of metal, smoke, and oil. These horrible edifices were what had powered the orks conquest and allowed them to dominate despite the demon-folk¡¯s tribes greater martial and magical strength. The orks would drown the tribes with their people and weapons, careless as to the lives it would cost. The king realized, at the tipping point of the war effort, these base and horrid machines had to be stopped in their desecration and ruin of the land. So, he led the human armies to claim the factories, the means of producing the great machines, from the orks. The battle that ensued was the bloodiest and most devastating conflict of the great war, known today as the battle of the Iron Hills; named as such for the massive amount of blood spilled on the battlefield staining the hills red. Othenoth was ever wise in his victory, and instead of burning the factories and removing their blight from the land, as the elves begged him to do, he instead handed over the technology to the dwarves with a promise to share what they discovered. The dwarves would later cleanse them from the terrible byproducts and enhance their effectiveness, nullifying the orks'' advantage and leading the civilized nations, elves kicking and screaming, into a world of industry. After the war the dwarves forgot our great sacrifice and sought only to power their new industry. They deconstructed the great factories and stole back to their hidden mountain keeps, removing them unjustly from humanity''s lands. What could have been a disaster, a halt in humanity''s progress by the spurious dwarves, was fortunately avoided. In the wise ways of his father, Vorenth, the crown prince at the time, had saved the schematics of the factories and machines won from the orks, allowing humanity to recover the loss. The hypocritical dwarves and elves objected to humanity''s use of this knowledge. The dwarves claimed we had stolen the designs from their keeps, and the elves objected to the use of factories on the whole, claiming that the future of such creations would doom the planet in millennia''s time. These claims of both dwarf and elf are fallacious and suspect. To address the dwarves, the designs were fairly won by humanity in the war. To address the elves, professionals and innovators of technology and magic discredit their claim, explaining that not even elves have memories that can predict events so far to the future. The disagreements over these things lead to a huge increase in tension across the civilized nations and murmurings of a second great war. King Vorenth was as great a diplomatic leader as his father was a visionary and avoided the incitement of the elves and dwarves toward war. With his guidance of our national diplomacy the objections of the dwarves and elves faded away from threats of war to petty violence then, finally, to promises of peace and separation between the races. With the inventions and mixing of mechanics and magic over these last fifty years of peace we are brought to the present golden age of humanity. Are you ready, student, to learn the great and powerful history of humanity? Let us begin.
Document 5: First Contact These are the final pages of the diary found in the yellow box, they are written in a steadier hand than before, but are still written with grandma Trinaday¡¯s blue pen and slanted writing. ???, 1985 I have been saved from the brink of death; I am not relieved. I thought I would be. Instead, my emotions writhe and tangle within my head. I sit here tonight in the safety of a wagon, surrounded by brave men who rescued me and carried me away from the ruined keep, and yet I cannot stop shaking. From what, I do not know; am I afraid? Enraged? Relieved? I cannot separate the emotions enough to tell. At first I think I was afraid. No, more than afraid. The feeling was ever present and overwhelming, turning the lonely days into a blur, I was terrified. That word still cannot describe my experience, it was moments, bright flashes of terror, standing out amid a sea of terror¡¯s more insidious brother, dread. I was dying, slowly starving. I knew it. I did my best to ignore it, but I always knew. There was no plan, no possibility of escaping the green creatures at that ruin. Goblins, the men tell me they were. There were moments I could not, that I did not record while there, drowning in fear huddled in my crumbling library. Writing them down and re-experiencing them would have made it all worse than I could bear. I need not write them down ever, those moments of terror. I can never forget them. There were too many to count, horrible moments that stole my breath and reason away. Moments I knew the goblins would find me, moments I knew the food I had left was running out, moments I knew I would never see my family again. The last of those terrible moments was the moment before I knew I would be saved. It was loud, the sounds that woke me up that dawn. The screams and shrieks of the goblins clued me into the danger. I had thought another fight had taken them dangerously close to my library. If the skirmish went on for long enough or was destructive enough, they would find me. I could do nothing but lay there, too weak to stand. If it had been even days before I would have tried to crawl up to safety atop the tower. But that morning I knew, if I tried to climb the tower I wouldn''t make it. Soon, as I lay there, devoid of energy and waiting for the end, the noises changed. First, I could hear the sharp ring of metal on stone. Then the sound of voices, human voices. I will admit as I lay there sorting out the very much human yelling from the goblin''s shrieks, I was overwhelmed with relief. I wish I still felt that way. There was no doubt in my head, no wondering if I had suddenly succumbed to delusion, no thoughts on how I could understand what these foreign voices shouted. No, I could only think that they had come, that I was saved. The thread of my emotions only tangles more as the day continues, the dread and relief are the simplest things I can pull out of my head to sort clearly on these pages. But there are more emotions I must continue to sort through. I must remember I am still a lone woman amid strangers in a strange land. I cannot let a tangled mess of emotions distract me from making it home. A well-ordered mind comes from well-ordered thoughts which can only be created when I understand how I feel. I cannot afford to make irrational decisions based on emotions I do not understand. Once the men had broken through my barricade, some of them set their sights on defending the only entrance to the library, while the others searched it for anything valuable that could be carried away. They found me quickly, offered me food and an odd green drink to restore my stamina. They spent what I was later told were valuable resources on me without even the slightest bit of hesitation. I got to experience yet another emotion, gratitude. Those men were heroes, and I will never forget what they spent to save me¡­ I will always wonder if they would have survived if not for that expense. The next events happened so quickly, snapping my gratitude away to another new feeling. One I can still feel all the way to my bones, horror. I had thought while training and learning to be a doctor back home I had experienced the worst of injuries and violence. I know now the sterile halls of an emergency room, even filled with the grievously injured, pale in comparison to an active battle. May the actions of the Bardic Reeds never be forgotten; I will have to find out the names of the ones who died and write them down here If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The horror of witnessing people who came to save me, being pushed back through the door by an overwhelming tide of green, will haunt my dreams for as long as I live. Two of those brave men were trampled underneath the weight of goblins pushing through the fallen barricade, their bones audibly cracking, even over their screams. One choked gasp of the man an arm''s length in front of me as he had his guts ripped out of his body by goblin claws. The stench and panic as a ball of fire explodes in the middle of the fray, burning goblin and man alive. These horrible and gruesome sights still echo through my head. The worst part of it all? When I try to close my eyes, those moments replay themselves in my memories. And when they do I can''t tell the difference between the pained screams of the goblins and humans dying in front of me. I cannot account for the rest of the day, the sight of the battle in the door is the last clear moment before it all turns into a blur. There are snippets and scenes of clarity. Another group armed with machetes, huge swords strapped to their backs, crashing through the door to save us. The men''s sick enjoyment of the pain and suffering they inflicted on the goblins as we rushed through the turns and twisting hallways of the keep. My first view down a crumbling moss filled hall leading to a broken arch and huge rotten double door and beyond that, the freedom of the forest. My next truly clear moment is sitting alone by a fire, sun setting, a warm woolen blanket tossed around my shoulders, a meaty stew clutched in my hands. I made it, I was alive. That was but a few moments ago. The bowl of stew sits next to me now in the covered wagon, still warm, I have been eating it slowly enjoying its odd taste. I think, having written this down, I have sorted through how I feel. I am guilty. People died for me today. I am grateful. Some force, be it luck or God, has given me another chance. I am still afraid. What will come next? I have taken my time in this quiet night to think, and I have found there are too many questions. If they are left unanswered, I will never rest easy. Who are these people, can I trust them? Will they keep helping me or will I be saddled with debts I cannot pay? If I can trust them, why were they so cruel to the goblins? Can good people inflict such suffering on another sentient creature? Why can I understand them? Do they speak English? Did the journey here change what language I speak? If it did, what else has been changed within my mind? There is one thing I have learned beyond a doubt. Magic is real. Now that I have found people I have a new mission beyond survival. I must make it home to my family. I must learn more about the fantastical, about magic. If that is what brought me here, what whisked me away from my home. Then that is what will bring me back. ~~ L alak¡¯q ohdilwh lq dq qeh qlph yxq L zdv dyrxq qr ihdsh lk qedq midfh qeh shob qrriv L khhaha qr pdnh lq erph, mhoedmv qedq lv qeh lorkb rc cdkqdvb. Lq dizdbv vhhpv qr yh flofxido, qehoh dka ydfn djdlk. -Jodkapd ~~ ??? 1985 It is confirmed, I am not in Kansas anymore, this world is called Elentier. The people who saved me are from a country called Revena, a human empire that stretches across the continent. There are two factions that participated in the raid on the keep, a duke''s knights and an adventurer''s guild. I am making camp and traveling with the adventurers. Their leader, a man named Solen, has told me not to speak or ask questions to the duke''s men. He has told me that being a ¡®traveler¡¯ can be dangerous. I am unsure what he meant and whether or not I can trust him. I am also having trouble distinguishing between what is magic and what is not. They carry around these little devices they call Ephernevence Network Tablets, or Ents. They remind me of cordless phones, able to contact another tablet in range if they''re close enough to the network. When we make it out of these woods, I am told the network reaches almost anywhere in the world. But the devices are more than that, they have a storage capacity of dozens of floppy disks, and almost ten times the computing power of a computer back at home. Apparently, they are affordable enough that almost every adventure here has one. The existence of such a device seems beyond a fantasy, and altogether too close to home. The stories they tell of the ¡®small town¡¯ we are headed to sounds like a city almost the size of Boston. With millions of residents and towering buildings. Even the carts here pull themselves, without an engine or other power source I can find. I am exhausted, I can barely find the strength to write. My flight from the keep and the questions I have weigh on my mind. I cannot sleep. I am far out of my depth. There is a place the adventurers tell me of when I ask about learning magic, a grand school for mages and engineers in the capital. If I want to find out more of the magic that brought me here, that will be the place. I had thought my schooling had ended when I married Gordon, but I may have to pick up a pen yet again in this new world, just to make it home. I hope the old men here are more willing to let a woman learn their craft. Document 6: Cold Case VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª ¡°Alright, Jujubees¡¯, welcome back.¡± Judy stands in the main room of her grandma''s lodge, though the video is shot from a different angle this time. The box throne is now off to one corner of the room, and the back wall with the mounted animals and weapons is completely out of frame. Instead, the camera points toward one of the side walls of the lodge. Where space had been made for a huge chalkboard that reaches almost to the slanted ceiling and dominates the scene. A few boxes are just in frame beneath the chalkboard to use as a shelf to hold some chalk and an eraser. Judy has also changed her look, Her hair is now pulled back into a high ponytail, and she is wearing a well-fitted maroon pantsuit. The look is far more professional than before, and from her first words it is obvious she means business. ¡°I¡¯ve decided the best way to approach my grandma¡¯s last request is to treat it like any other cold case we¡¯ve cracked on the channel.¡± She flashes a confident smile to the audience,¡°I¡¯ll go over what that means for the new viewers, though if you¡¯ve been here for a while I would still stick around to listen. I¡¯ve changed a few things, because unlike most of the cases we¡¯ve done, this one is personal.¡± Judy almost glares into the camera, as if daring one of her subscribers to disagree. ¡°I will be seeing this case all the way to the end, whether you guys are watching or not. I know this is nothing like what I usually do, and I am probably going to need all of your help to get to the bottom of this. So, I made some calls to some old friends of the channel to keep it interesting¡± Judy puts a hand up, as if to stall any comments from the audience, ¡°I know you guys like it best when I try to make it as far as I can into the case on my own. But I think you¡¯ll enjoy watching the team I''ve put together. First, on the scene to help us out is Fumushu.¡± She gestures to the chalkboard next to her. ¡° Would you like to say hi?¡± At this, the chalkboard draws out a picture on its own with a quick scribble of chalk. A cute chibi anime girl with messy hair and a bun takes shape on the board with an enthusiastic ¡°Hello!¡± written in a speech bubble next to it. Judy explains, ¡°Fumushu has helped us out before, mostly drawing animations. With how insane this project is turning out though, I thought I might need some visual aids to help us understand whats going on. Not to mention Fumu''s general expertise in art, which has already proved invaluable. But more on that later.¡± There is another quick chalk scribble sound effect and the chibi pumps her fist and her speech bubble changes to say, ¡°Excited to be here to help!¡± ¡°Next person here to help out is Timothy, my editing wizard, who apparently lives here in Colorado. When he saw my last video he offered to come up here in person to help sort through my grandmas junk,¡± Judy pauses again to let Tim introduce himself. A light blue holographic square scans into existence in the corner of the screen, labeled editor''s box. Inside the box, in the same holographic style, a figure in a deep robe, nods to the audiences with the caption ¡®Hello there¡¯ before winking off the screen in much the same way it arrived. Judy speaks up again, ¡°There is one more person I called out here, but they haven¡¯t gotten back to me yet. So I¡¯ll keep who they are a secret, I¡¯ll give you guys a hint. It''s someone who you have been begging me to get back on the channel.¡± The chalkboard changes again, the chibi character getting redrawn smaller in the corner with glasses and a ruler, her speech bubble changing to say, ¡°Now that everyone has met the team, let''s get into this!¡± Judy smiles up at Fumushu on the chalkboard and agrees¡° Absolutely Fumu, But first let me get all the new people on the same page.¡± She launches into a well practiced introduction. ¡°To treat this like a real cold case, we start by looking for inconsistencies and insufficient evidence in the records of the initial investigation. These are the areas where it was most likely something slipped through the cracks, and are our best chance of finding a new lead where the trail has gone cold.¡± Judy reaches off-screen and grabs a legal notepad. ¡° I¡¯ve gotten a few of these written down already, let''s list them off.¡± Next to her, Fumushu is animated. Taping on the chalkboard with the ruler, and recording each point into a bullet point on as she does so.
Inconsistencies
  • The assumption of magic? To accept this story as true, we must assume that magic is real and has somehow gone fully unrecorded in the modern era. I¡¯ve solved a lot of ¡®unsolvable¡¯ cold cases, but surely someone else would have recorded the existence of ¡®magic¡¯ before me?
  • The Grandma¡¯s Initial letter says all of her diaries are in the Golden Box. We found it, but there is only one diary?
  • Almost all the documents are written in English with Arabic numerals. Even if they were translated to English at a later date, we have found no indication of any awkward translations or any of the original documents in their native language. This is exceedingly unlikely.
  • There are no dates on any of the official documents, this culture was supposedly as advanced as us technologically, and had access to magic that bent the rules of the universe. None of its documents are dated? I call BS.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
  • (added in post by editor Tim) I am unsure about the amount of stuff, if we believe the account that Mrs Trinaday traveled there with nothing but the clothes on her back. How did she bring all of this stuff back?
¡°That accounts for all the inconsistencies the team here has found so far. If any Jujubees watching this or reading attached documents finds something we missed, comment and let us know.¡± Judy frowns and flips the page of the legal pad to the one below it. ¡° Now I really wish I could end it here and go right into investigating these inconsistencies. But we also have to account for points of the story we have insufficient evidence to judge. Those things in this case are the unexplainable items in the lodge that support Grandma¡¯s story. Until these mysteries can be disproven or solved, they stand in support of Grandma¡¯s fantasy magic.¡± On the chalkboard, Fumushu¡¯s chibi appears next to Judy with a pouty expression and a text bubble reading, ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t be like that Juju, I believe your grandma!¡± Judy looks back at the board in disbelief, ¡°Seriously, Fumu? This is insane, full stop. What in the world could possibly prove magic?¡± Fumushu responds, chalk being written then erased from a speech bubble as the chibi emotes, ¡°I¡¯ve been right here looking at the same stuff you have Juju. From an artist''s perspective, some of this just can¡¯t be explained.¡± Her chibi is erased then redrawn in a clear part of the board with a serious expression, ¡°Look some of the pictures of the wall trophies,¡± as she mentions them the chalk ruler is animated taping on the board and a picture is edited in each place she taps. ¡°All these pictures are key points on just one out of the dozen or so trophies that have been stuffed and mounted. The plaque on this one calls it ¡®The Basilisk¡¯s Head¡¯. If this is real, the snake was proportionally bigger than any snake ever recorded on Earth! Best guess puts it at nearly two feet in diameter, nearly two times bigger than an anaconda.¡± She taps on the picture, pointing out a measurement on the jaw, then jumps as a hissing noise is edited in. The chibi¡¯s face morphs to one of panic, and it runs away from the picture. Face-first into the frame of the other picture behind her, a close up shot of the top of the snake''s head. The little chibi plops down to the ground, her eyes drawn as little spirals, glasses knocked onto the floor, and a big cartoon bump on her head. Soon enough, though, she shakes if off and stands back up, her face returning to the serious one as she resumes the lecture. ¡°By everything, I can evaluate, the thing is real. Taxidermy is really hard to fake convincingly. I have¡­ no idea how you¡¯d even begin to get the scales to look like this. Now keep in mind it''s not just this snake, there are a dozen other insanely well done animal heads mounted on the walls here. To fake any one of these, it would take an absolute master at specifically faking taxidermy! And it would cost a fortune. I¡¯ve asked some sculptors that I know, they say just one of these would take 6 months to a year to do. Costing at least 100,000 USD some of them said that if the artist was famous enough it could go up to several million! Again, there are like twelve of these!¡± Fumushu finishes the lecture, then is erased pictures and all, before being drawn in next to Judy with a smug expression, ¡°So what do you think about that!?¡± Judy just sighs, ¡°We¡¯ll add it to the list. Tim, if you could put the mysteries list up on the board behind me?¡± she then turns to face directly to the camera, ¡°While you guys take a look through that, let me take a moment to talk about this video¡¯s sponsor¡­¡± As she speaks, the list is drawn up on the chalkboard next to the previous one. Being projected line by line as a hologram before fading away to regular chalk.
Mysteries
  • The large page (Yellow Box) as well as a few other documents (Cardboard # 55) are written in an unrecognizable language, and mostly untranslated. Why are these different from the rest? What do they say? We can confirm they aren''t any recorded language. Do any conlang communities recognize the text? Is it translatable?
  • What is the device in the yellow box for? Who made it? It has a maker''s mark but an internet search shows no results.
  • Internet searches for Grandma¡¯s full name are weird. They confirm her missing/ presumed dead through her 20s to 40s. Then there are a few small articles of her being alive, and a few mentions of some crazy nonprofit she founded for interdimensional travelers. After that? Radio silence till her death. If this is a hoax, it seems to have cost her a crazy amount of money, and been planned before Judy was born.
  • (Added by Fumushu) The art on display here is insane, there are a few oil paintings made with seemingly no tools. No brush strokes or other indication of how it was applied, like a printed picture but using paint instead of ink. None of my art friends have any idea how you¡¯d even start to make something like that.
  • (Added by Fumushu) The taxidermy is seriously cool. If these aren''t real animals, whoever made these have to be one of the greatest sculptors of our time. Bad taxidermy isn''t too hard but making something that looks this real? No way. I want to get a better expert to look at these.
  • (Added in post by editor Tim) The lodge itself is odd, I¡¯m not sure where we get power from. There was a blackout in our area of Manitou recently, a landslide took out some power poles, but we never noticed.
¡°... Now back to the video, if you still need to read the list I¡¯ll give you some time here to pause,¡± then she walks out of the camera frame leaving the chalkboard alone and quiet. Filled only with circles of chalk dust from all of Fumushu¡¯s redrawing, and the two lists. Still off-screen we can hear Judy grunt as she picks something up,¡° Now that we¡¯ve properly set up this cold case, it''s time to dig deeper.¡± As she speaks she begins to walk back into frame, we can see the top of her head over the back of the cardboard throne. ¡°I¡¯ve got something to tell you Jujubes, we¡¯ve already found an answer to one of the contradictions.¡± she walks out from behind the chair, a large cube cradled in her arms. ¡°We were right, the yellow box was not the golden box,¡± She sets the golden cube on the boxes stacked just under the chalkboard. ¡°This is.¡± As she sets the box down, Fumushu¡¯s chibi is scribbled out onto the chalkboard as if sitting on top of it, a question mark in a thought bubble over her head. Judy stretches out her arms to get some blood flow back now that they are free from the weight of the box. ¡°Unfortunately, this gives us no answers, just more questions. The biggest one? How does a solid golden cube have twenty years worth of Grandma''s journals inside of it?¡± END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Document 7: Golden Secrets VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª This video is wholly different from what has come before. There is no professional quality camera framing an interesting background with Judy front and center to open the recording. Instead, the footage is recorded at a much lower quality, and from an awkward angle, high in the corner of the room. It is a new room as well, a kitchen, just off of the great room where Judy had been recording before. The kitchen is well past worn and would be better described as dangerously old. The newest appliance is a faucet, a brass fixture put in place over a yellowed porcelain sink, just beneath a window. Around the sink, the cabinets are worn and wooden with old peeling laminate countertops. The doors of the cabinets are twisted and warped, many unable to fully close. Through those gaps, we can see that they are filled with old cans and dusty mason jars, fully unlabeled and filled with substances impossible to distinguish without taking the risk to open them. Older than even the rest of the kitchen is a charcoal stove and flue, ancient and blackened with use, standing in one corner across from the cabinets. Through the window, nothing can be seen beyond the absolute black of the night out in the isolated forest. So the only thing that lights up the old kitchen is a dingy one bulb glass chandelier, over the round kitchen table. The table itself is a mess, interesting items from the lodge are sprawled in random piles across its surface. Judy is standing, hunched over the table, looking at the golden cube that supposedly contained her grandma¡¯s journals. She¡¯s been messing with it for a while, as the camera silently watches, when editor Tim strolls into the kitchen from a doorway behind her. There is no way to see anything else about him, as he is still completely covered in the long hooded robe he was wearing in Judy¡¯s earlier video. Judy glances up and notices him walking in towards the old cabinets,¡° Aren''t you hot? You should take that ridiculous thing off.¡± Opening a cabinet and rummaging through some much more modern snacks, he replies, ¡°No can do love, I like my anonymity.¡± ¡°Dude, both me and Fumu have seen your face. What do you mean, anonymity?¡± Judy looks frustrated and has started picking up random objects from the table to tap against the cube. ¡°We¡¯re recording.¡± He responds. ¡°What?¡± Judy''s head snaps away from the cube to look at him ¡°We¡¯re recording.¡± He repeats, a gloved hand pointing to the camera in the corner of the room. ¡°Hold up, you put up little security spy cameras in the house?¡± Judy looks uncomfortable and a little angry at the idea. ¡°Yeah.¡± Tim''s voice is muffled as he sticks a granola bar deep into his cowl. ¡°Why?¡± Judy asks. ¡°Don¡¯t want to miss any footage. If we find something good, I can edit the moment into the next video.¡± Tim has never stopped moving, and as he says this, he strolls back out the doorway to the great room. Judy just sighs as she watches him leave, then gets back to messing with the cube >>> FAST FORWARD 2X <<< A few more moments pass by, Judy''s arms moving around in a blur. >>> NORMAL SPEED <<< Another person comes in the doorway, we can''t see their face either. Unlike Tim, however, this is likely just how they dress. Because all of their features aren''t hidden, a bit of their head and their hands can be seen, it''s possible to note their skin is a light caramel brown. The girl is wearing a baggy pastel sky blue hoodie with a large purple pocket on the front and some gray, equally baggy, sweatpants. Both items of clothing are a bit paint stained and worn, but clearly have been treated with love. On her head is a soft pastel pink bucket hat with a big floppy brim and bunny ears stitched into the top, clearly homemade. And a white face mask with two big buck teeth and whiskers printed on it covers their face. Underneath the hat, her hair is dyed a glossy white or a dull silver, it''s hard to tell with the camera quality. In her hands is a large sheet of pink see-through crystal, with a shiny silver border. That boarder extends down, under the crystal, to an elegant loop, which serves as a stand so it can balance on a flat surface, like a mirror or a lamp would. ¡°Hey.¡± Her voice doesn''t quite fit her short frame and cute appearance, it''s surprisingly rough and deep. ¡°A little help?¡± Judy jumps before whirling around to help the girl with the crystal tablet. ¡°Fumu! Jeez, what''s with this? I thought we agreed we would keep the heavy and breakable stuff where we found it.¡± Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. The two set the crystal on the table, Judy keeping a hand on it to make sure it wouldn¡¯t fall over. Fumushu takes a step back, waving off Judy¡¯s concern for her and says, ¡°I had a thought, I didn''t want to bother you.¡± Judy is still concerned but interested, ¡°No, it''s ok if you need to grab me then do, we¡¯re a team.¡± She lets go of the crystal after testing to make sure it was stable, ¡°This is heavy! How the heck did you get it all the way here? And why? What''s your idea?¡± ¡°Well, the box is supposed to have information on it, right? Maybe it''s like a CD or a computer, like, it''s just storage but with no way to show what''s in there on its own. So¡­ I was thinking about how magic would work with that. I remembered finding this.¡± Fumu says. ¡°You might be onto something. How would we connect the two, though? We haven''t found any loose cables or wires; and the things have no obvious ports to use as connections, even if we had. There isn¡¯t even an obvious slot to put something in on the cube. It''s all smooth flat surfaces.¡± Judy looks at the pink crystal then to the golden box, ¡°It couldn¡¯t be that simple, right?¡± She gestures at Fumu, ¡°Help me lift this on to the top of the box, maybe if the stand touches the box it¡¯ll do something?¡± The two carefully lift the crystal screen onto the top of the golden box then step back, staring, waiting for something to happen. A second passes, then two, then three. Nothing. Fumu hunches over, burying their hands into the front pocket of their hoodie, ¡°Oh¡­ I really thought that would work. It was a kinda dumb idea.¡± She sounds embarrassed, her voice crackling a bit more than normal. ¡°No, it is a good idea, Fumu. It feels right. Maybe, ¡­ maybe we are missing something else.¡± Judy is still focused on the two devices, thinking hard. ¡° If the box is like a computer, and the crystal is a monitor, we just need a way to turn it on, to give it power.¡± ¡°What if¡­¡± Judy grabs a small two small corkscrew pieces off the table and taps them on opposite sides of the cube. They sink into the solid exterior of the cube as if it was made of jello, till only a small handle pokes out and Judy can push no farther. With a flash the crystal lights up displaying a picture. ¡°Holy shi-¡± END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª
Hello Jujube You¡¯ve found this, my not so small secret. I don¡¯t know how, but since you have, there is a question for you to answer. Do you believe in magic? Few do, but they should. On this GBM I have stored the documents and files that prove it. The world will know if I am ever strong enough to show them. I know the next question you will ask, Judy. How do I know it is you? Well, I know because there is no other person I would let come so close to this truth. Let me explain. If you have snuck so deeply into my secrets that you have found and restored this Simuladata. I will assume that you have already found out where I went missing to in my 20s, and that you know the answer to my first question. What you must feel the need to find out now is what happened next, what happened in that new world? That world of magic. The answers you wish to find are stored here, congratulations. You could end this here, answers found. That is the safe option, staying quiet and leaving none the wiser. The answers you need, however, are not on this device, those only I know. Let me pique your interest. What happened when I came back? Why haven''t I brought the world the magic I have learned? When I first returned, Gordon, your grandfather, hurt me more than you could ever understand. The day I made it back to your father and your aunt, the day I would finally hold them again in my arms, was turned sour. By his own hand, Gordon turned my greatest triumph, my glorious and impossible return to my family, into a defeat twofold as grand. That day, instead of finally coming home, I realized in my blind pursuit of the past I had lost not one family but two. I had nowhere to go, and no one to show the things I had brought back. Over these long years, Gordon had not waited for me, he did not still love me. Instead, he had poisoned my family against me, he claimed I had abandoned him. When I came back, ready to share what I knew, ready to show him what I had seen, he called me mad. Not just to my face, but also to any family or any friends I could find for help. I was alone and lost, declared dead with not person on my side or a dollar to my name. I will never forgive him, not till the day I die. It was impossible to keep me down. With the tools I had and the meager magic at my disposal here on earth, I rebuilt myself from nothing for the second time. But I could never bring my self to do as I had planned and give the tools and artifacts over to the world. These artifacts were no longer proof of what had happened to me. No longer Evidence of where I had been wrenched away to and what I had learned there. Now they were the last little bits and pieces of the family I had truly made the decision to abandon. The Goblins. I decided I had to go back, so I formed a group for those who had slipped through the gaps in reality, much like myself. They betrayed me too. So I gave up, it seemed my destiny was to be alone, damned forever to lose what little family I could find. Then I met you. I will always remember that Christmas, It was the year Gordon died, and the year your aunt first invited me to the family holidays. I found hope again. As I have watched you grow up from that magic loving seven-year-old to the wonderful mystery solving girl you are today, that hope has only grown stronger. So, read and explore what you will then come to see me. Together you and I can fight, together you and I can change this world, or together we can move on to another. Love, Grandma Trinaday Cro d zelih L zdv dkjob dka ahixaha, lq exoq qrr pxfe qr yidph pbvhic.
Document 8: Brute Force Trial
8th of Tal, 128 I have asked as many questions as I safely could during our journey away from the ruin, what a distance we have come. I would say we have traveled several thousand miles, as many as five or six. Solen keeps me confined to the carriage and only allows his team access, so it is hard to tell. All I have been able to discover about my surroundings is what I can see passing by the windows of the carriage. It is frustrating. I have tried to convince him that keeping me so isolated can only be suspicious, but he is unwilling to listen. The carriages themselves are a wonder, a technical marvel, enough to keep me distracted from the forest passing by. They look right out of a fairy tail or an artist''s idealized rendition of some medieval noble¡¯s carriage. But oddly stretched like a limo, with gilded metal patterns covering the surface and the windows, repeating three or four times across its length. After about three days of rolling through the forest at breakneck pace, we finally make it to a strip of woodlands that had been cleared out, leaving nothing but the wild grasses behind. From there we sped up considerably, apparently the carriages are perfectly capable of locomotion without their wheels. The knights and adventurers removed them, and we hovered along a few feet above the ground, passing through the clear strip of forest at speeds comparable to a highway back home. Solen tells me that the wheels are only really necessary for maneuverability on ¡®rough terrain¡¯. The madness does not end there. Solen gifted me an ENT recovered from one of the fallen adventurers. Unfortunately, he also wiped all of the data stored on it, fortunately not everyone is so stingy with their knowledge. Rickle, a member of Solens adventuring party who was injured, has been keeping me company in the carriage. I managed to convince him to let me transfer a few files from his ENT to mine while he rested. The devices are wonderful, like tiny computers you keep in a pocket. From what I can tell, if I wanted a device as powerful back home, I would need a whole room larger than our family''s apartment just to fit the machine. Though I can''t be sure about that, we haven¡¯t been close enough for me to access the larger ENT network, and I never did learn much about computing. The bulk of what I have learned has been from that device, with Rickle¡¯s help in using it. Simple things, like the date. Or the names of some important figures in the town where we are headed. Most importantly, lessons on magic. They call it the Weave, the complex thread of power that runs through all life. There was a basic primer Rickle had downloaded so he could help his daughter study on the topic. It was invaluable, almost all of my time has been spent in efforts to fully understand its contents. I will summarize what I have learned in my notes on this ENT, as I have run out of space in my journal.
  1. The Weave exists everywhere without exceptions, it almost reminds me of those ridiculous ideas about string theory Gordon would show me.
  2. With the proper methods it is possible to manipulate the strings, this changes the fabric of reality, creating effects I would call magic.
  3. A person''s capabilities to perform magic is based on the pattern and number of threads they possess, this can be controlled and altered.
  4. This control is not an infinite power, the Weave strongly resists changes to its natural path and constantly fights against alteration to return to that state.
9th of Tal, 128 Oh my word, today was yet another marvel to rival the horrors I faced just a short week ago. We made it to the ¡°small town¡± of Gorren¡¯s Dell. It is one of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen. It appears the need to build buildings that scrape the sky is an instinctual one, one that remains in humans even worlds apart. When unbound by the rules that govern us on earth, the architecture here is allowed to flow into places our metal-and-glass bound structures could never reach. My lacking skills as an author will never truly capture the view that sits outside of this very window. I will do my best. The buildings are a mix between the futuristic imaginations from home and gothic architecture. Intricately decorated arches and spires wind their way up the sides of the towering skyscrapers, windows gleaming in between the gilded decorations of the structures. From the ground the buildings seem impossibly tall, each time a tower or arch comes to a point, yet another layer rises up behind. Some even jutting out or over the lower sections of the building in physically impossible, unsupported overhangs. The implausible towers are even connected by long sky bridges forming these beautiful, knotted nets, crisscrossing and layered high up in the sky. The gilding of each and every building is much the same as what the carriages had, a precious metal spiraling and knotting its way up the building in these patterns that flow along the arched gothic architecture. The whole city reminds me of a patchwork crochet quilt, each one of the skyscrapers forming a separately weaved square and the bridges connecting it all together. If this is a town, I cannot imagine how impressive a city could be. We came upon Goren¡¯s Dell abruptly too, though that might be due to the speed we were traveling in approach to the place. We left the cleared forest road and were soon surrounded by massive, gilded walls that lead into the city. The walls were split into two, a lower bottom half densely covered in patterns, and a relatively untouched upper part with only a few of the metal paths roping across its surface. If that was all that went into the wall I would not describe them as massive, the two parts of the wall were not in total very tall, maybe six feet. The top half of the wall, however, did not rest only six feet in the air. Instead, it hovered almost twice that, with an extra six feet of open air in between them, an occasional faint shimmer of blue rippling across the space. Through the walls, I could see farmland stretching out all for miles around the town. I had Rickle explain to me why the walls were built in such an illogical manner. Apparently, it is not open air but rather a one way barrier between the upper and lower sections, allowing things to cross out to the road but not enter the other way. In the event of an attack, forces could line the long corridors leading to the town and rain attacks down on monsters or invaders. Unfortunately, Rickle couldn''t answer my questions about the expense or energy needed for the magical walls. I wonder what kind of attacks lead to the need for, what seems to me, such an expensive creation. I have decided it would be unwise to let my judgment be clouded by the magical sights, danger here must be ever present. We had arrived just as the sun was setting for the day. Solen has offered me a room at the adventurer''s guild building. Or, more accurately, has ordered me to stay there. I do not like It, but I see no other choice. He has told me that tomorrow he will introduce someone who can tell me more about what the adventurers¡¯ guild will require from me. In other news my ENT has connected to the greater network, the information I could find even at a cursory glance is staggering. I wonder if I could bring such a wonderful idea back home with me, I only imagine what we could do with such an interconnected web of information. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. 10th of Tal, 128 I met with a woman named Helvia today, an administrator in charge of the affairs of this branch of the adventurer''s guild. She was much craftier than Solan, and I felt like she knew far too much. I have entered into an agreement with the adventurers guild I do not fully understand. Normally I would be hesitant to sign any document so eagerly, but I had no other choice, Helvia gave me an offer I could not refuse. For my own future record, I must better describe how this happened. A rash decision without later research or deliberation is a mistake that is destined to repeat. Solen woke me with a knock at my door. It was late in the morning, the sun high in the sky and gleaming off of the buildings outside. The scattered panes of glass on the exterior wall of the room let the light through in an artistic way that was kaleidoscopic and breathtaking. Sending rays of sunlight into repeating patterns across the other three walls. It was a wonder that I had not been woken up sooner by a beam of light shining into my eyes, but it had been a long time since I had slept in a real bed. Solen had brought me some kind of sweet breakfast pastry, it reminded me of a croissant but with some kind of sweet nut filling. It was still hot and smelled heavenly. What followed was much less pleasant, in order to keep my status as a traveler a secret the guild had to conduct several tests and forge dozens of documents. For me that meant a lot of waiting in boring white rooms, filling out dry surveys and being tested for various illnesses and other medical information. While I suffered through the bureaucracy, Solen, and later Helvia, explained to me what it meant to be a ¡®traveler¡¯. To summarize, there are occasionally rips in the weave, when this occurs the threads have to reach out and mend the tear. Sometimes, something gets caught in the mending weave and pulled to Elentier. When a sentient creature is pulled through, they are called travelers, and more often than not the knowledge that comes from another reality can prove invaluable to the people who obtain it first. After all the other tests had been done, and I was exhausted from the long day of testing and filling out documents. Helvia began what was the most important test of the day. I did not know it at the time but looking back her plan is obvious. Tire me out with all the small details in the beginning and lure me into skipping over the more important ones at the end of the day. I am disappointed that I fell for it. She brought out a strange device, a needle on the end of an arm attached to a glass orb. After fiddling with a few knobs, she told me to prick my finger. This was yet another layer of distraction. I had noticed that she had not mentioned what the device was for, so I demanded an explanation. What came after was a long and flowery description that sapped even more of my patience away. It boiled down to, ¡°This device measures your strength and ability to manipulate the Weave¡±. Tired and put upon as I was, as soon as I heard that, my focus was solely on the machine. My only thought was that this would determine the possibility that I could create my own ticket home. Fool that I am, I should have been watching Helvia¡¯s face. I pricked my finger. It was beautiful, as soon as the needle sunk the slightest bit into my finger the device came alight. The light was quickly blinding, then it faded away to show a tangled mess of white glowing threads resting in the clear orb that made up the base of the thing. A single thick white thread of yarn, fuzzy and frayed, extended from my finger on the needle into the mess below. I was entranced. Helvia was quick to take advantage of my mental state and whip out a contract guaranteeing the adventurers guild would sponsor my education in mage craft at the capital. I did not read far enough to see what I exchanged in the deal. Just signed it immediately. I was too distracted to care, I had found my path home. I realize now how big of a mistake I just made. I should always read the contract closer; I am not sure what I have gotten myself into. I am convinced, however, that there was something else beyond what I can describe that made me gloss over the contract. But Helvia has again outplayed me, I will have no time to investigate. It seems I am obligated to make my way to the capitol tomorrow. I wonder If the direction I¡¯m heading will take me closer to home or only farther away.
VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The video opens twisted in a nonsensical way, upside down and askew. The camera is deep in a hole, the sky a solitary oval between gray stone walls. The sky is overcast, and the stones of the wall are the same dark gray, if it weren''t for the vibrant green moss they would blend into the clouds. The camera sits there, the wind whistling through the stones the only indication it is still recording. >>> FAST FORWARD 2X <<< Soon enough, something changes. A head pops over the edge of the stones, the small circle putting into perspective how big the hole is and how far down the camera has fallen. This far away, it''s not possible to make out clear details. What is clear, though, is that is not a human head. The goblin sees the camera and begins to chitter excitedly, the noise oddly distorted as it echoes down the hole. We can see more of his short body as he leans farther over-head for a closer look. He only gets more exited as he gets a clearer view of the camera, his hands waving up above his head as he jumps around performing a little dance. Soon after, he vanishes from view. Less time passes and the goblin is back, this time with a long stick. He pushes it as far down into the hole as he can, leaning his entire short torso over the edge. The stick is nowhere near long enough to reach to the bottom of the hole, so the goblin uses the stick to make a mark in the moss of the wall at the deepest point he could reach. Then he pulls himself and the stick out and circles around to better see the mark. After a few seconds of judging how deep he could reach, as well as how deep the rest of the hole was in comparison, the goblin runs off with the stick again. It seems he didn''t go too far, as a scuffling noise can be heard, then a meaty thump and a short shriek of pain. The goblin reappears looking much worse for wear. He is covered in scratches and has to limp closer to the hole. Once he gets close enough, he sits down on the edge of the hole, swinging his feet over. One of his feet is clearly pointing in a direction it shouldn''t be. He takes a second to consider his mark and the depth of the hole one more time before shrugging and pushing off from the wall. He slams down to the ground outside of frame, shaking the camera with a sickening crunch, and all of a sudden it is silent again. Nothing but the noise of the wind. >>> FAST FORWARD 60X<<< Time passes, the sun sets and rises twice through the hole in the ceiling. >>> FAST FORWARD 2X<<< A new goblin shows up poking his head over the ledge, this one doesn¡¯t seem surprised to find the camera or the body next to it. Instead, he just gets to work checking the gaps in the stones that make up the walls of the hole. When he finds a set he likes, he swings his body over and begins his descent. It takes the goblin a while to find holds to put his hands and feet on as he climbs down the wall. The slick moss covers most of the ledges making for a difficult climb. When the goblin finally makes it halfway down, he makes a mistake. A loose rock is pulled out of the wall and he slips. At this point, he has gone well past the mark the previous goblin left in the wall, but it is still left with a huge distance to fall. This goblin shrieks as he falls, his desperate hands scrambling to find a new hold only pushing him farther away from the wall. It seems he is not eager to experience the fall his friend took. A thud, but this time a wail instead of silence. This time the goblin survives. The frame moves, the goblin picking up the camera he and his friend had risked life and limb for. Whimpering, he turns it around in his hands, the recording blurring wildly as the camera is wiped around. Then it settles, the lens pointed toward the Goblins face, and the first good look on record of a goblin can be seen. >>>PAUSE<<< Document 9: Risk and Ruin >>> PLAY <<< The goblin stared vacantly through the lens of the camera, his eyes disjointed, it¡¯s not as if he was looking at a viewer of the video, but rather like he was looking right through the camera itself. His expression is oddly smooth, not scrunched in pain as you might expect. His breaths come short and quick, as if he was on the edge of panic despite the placid look on his face. If any doctor were there on the scene, or watching this video, they would think that the goblin had gone into shock. In this state, this goblin has minutes left, hours if he¡¯s lucky enough to somehow get his wits about him. With the camera now stationary on the goblins face, it''s impossible not to notice the differences between goblin and human. Most obviously, the green skin, a deep emerald color. Next to be noticed are the goblins eyes. They are an inhuman color, a light orange shade, and they¡¯re massive; taking up half of his head and wrapping around far to the sides, where on a human their ears might start. Allowing a goblin to see just a bit behind their head without even turning to look. This goblin happens to be showing off another unique trait of goblin eyes. His left eye seems normal, staring straight ahead, his pupil and iris proportionate to the eye¡¯s larger size. But his right eye isn¡¯t like that at all. The pupil and iris of this eye is much smaller and split into two, one half wandering around the side of his head and the other looking vacantly straight ahead alongside the left eye. As the camera continues to record, the right eye merges back together and the left eye then splits off to check the other corner of the goblin¡¯s vision. All of a sudden the goblins gaze sharpens coming back into focus, his breath slows becoming more controlled, and his mouth splits into a smile. His smile is much wider than a human¡¯s and full of sharp teeth, although there are fewer teeth than a human might have. His ears, long triangles almost in the back of his head, flick up then down, showing a range of motion an elf would envy. The goblin sets down the camera, still facing him, on a rock nearby and uses two arms to lever himself up to a sitting position. He looks down at his legs and frowns, his ears drooping, the sad expression exaggerated by his large eyes and mouth. From the rock we can''t see the goblins legs, only his arms and torso, but whatever the goblin sees can''t be good as he doesn''t even try to stand all the way up. He just shakes his head and looks up to the top of the hole, to a spot behind the camera. He sits there waiting, patient, expression occasionally crumbling as he deals with the pain of his shattered legs. >>> FAST FORWARD 2X <<< The goblin continues to wait, his eyelids drooping down and eyes splitting and becoming unfocused. Whenever this happens, he jabs a clawed hand down into his wounds. Each time he shrieks in pain and bolts upright, clawed fingers coming back stained green. Expression looking more and more pained every time. Then he sees what he was waiting for and his smile returns. >>> NORMAL SPEED <<< He grabs the camera and the recording becomes nauseatingly unwatchable for a while as the frame is wiped around, becoming a meaningless blur of green and gray. Then it pauses, taking in the view of another goblin standing on the lip of the hole holding a rope in their hands. Rope is a generous name for what the goblin is holding, but his intentions for the knotted collection of vines and rags are clear as he tosses it down the hole to the goblin below. The camera is set down, recording the stone wall as the two goblins chitter back and forth. Preparing to haul the injured goblin out of the pit. It doesn¡¯t take long for the frame to begin moving again, approaching the wall it had been recording, as the goblin carrying it screams in ear-piercing pain. >>> VOLUME 0 <<< The frame lurches and sways, the goblin hugging the camera to his chest tight with both hands, some of his fingers covering the lens. The color of his fingers turn to a pale green as he death grips the camera, keeping it in his hands even as he passes out from the pain. After a brutal minute, the movement stops and the camera is set on the edge of the hole, pointed back at the goblin who had just suffered so much to get it here. He smiles, his eyes bloodshot and full of tears. He celebrates, raising a fist to the goblin who pulled him up. Before he can lose the rest of his strength, the goblin reaches out with his clawed hand and slices the rope - dropping back into the hole, his role fulfilled. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª
All Mail: Yesterday:
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To: [email protected]
Topic: Seems Like a Waste
Central, Seriously? I spend years working to get into this position like you asked, and now you''re asking me to burn it all down for some random fantasy case? I don''t get it, when you first approached me you promised me that I would be doing something important. That I would be protecting people from getting too far over their head and disappeared like Archie. We''ve guided this girl past too many landmine cases and past countless terrible ideas. I thought you guys initiated me specifically to help her, I thought you guys cared too. I do care, I won''t just burn it all down because you ordered me too. I''m going to need more than a checklist if you want me to go through with this Regards, Acolyte T
REPLY FORWARD
[email protected]
To: [email protected]
Topic: Know Your Place
Acolyte You should consider more before contacting us with such reckless demands. Your empathy in this case has done you credit, the council has determined that on completion you will be awarded with another rank, and more information. Understand you no longer speak to some mid-level Knight, We of the Circle of Thirteen await news of your success ourselves. This is a great honor. The Lady Saintess has bidden me to remind you of a few things to ensure you keep motivated. You are not the only one compelled by contract, we have also agreed to the demands you had when you signed. We remember. "Section 31, paragraph 7 line 5- No amoral orders may be issued under this contract unless the safety or security of [Archibald] is directly involved." The Saintess believes this applies. You are under a significant misunderstanding. The one who you watch is not threatened by the world. We have not set you to your post out of mercy. You are not protecting her at all, do not confuse her with the sibling you failed. We have sent you there for atonement. You are protecting children like Archie from the person she could be. If she is not stopped now, more people will vanish. That will be on your conscious, I promise you I will personally insure you are informed of each and every family you break. I hope you understand the significant weight of what we ask of you. This is no simple task, nor is it a joke. Any means are justified, any and all force is permitted, this operation must not fail. --Harbinger Of the End, Part Owner - Multiple Worlds Foundation ~I will see no more worlds fall by my hands~
REPLY FORWARD
Three days ago:
[email protected]
To: [email protected]
Topic: Supply List
Here are the things I''m going to need delivered to the mission address. I also request further mission orders as I have fulfilled all outstanding objectives.
  • Long brown robe (Ever seen Star Wars? That)
  • 10X Mini Wireless Hidden Wi-Fi Camera (LINK HERE)
  • Wi-Fi router (Your choice of Company, Needs to be able to handle cameras+ YT uploads)
  • 1 Power strip
  • 1 Large spacial bag (clearance HERE)
  • Assortments of snack (Rob says you have good taste, so I''ll leave specifics to you)
Regards, Acolyte T
REPLY FORWARD
One week ago:
[email protected]
To: Jujubee''[email protected]
Topic: Welcome to my town
Hey Judes, I saw your last video, I''m sorry to hear about your grandmother losing family, always sucks, I would know. But there''s always a little ray of sunlight! Manitou is quite close to where I live, I know we''ve never really met in person, but if you need help I can come out and help you clean up your grandma''s stuff. We can get the video''s done faster for all of it too if I''m in house to edit too. No need for phone tag any more then. I figure this might hurt to have to linger on because you still have to make video''s about it months later. I''ll bring snacks and alcohol, and you can tell me about your grandma while we search her old stuff. Seeing you go silent over this last week only to pop up with that last video really hurt, nobody should have to suffer in silence. If this sounds good to you, shoot me a DM somewhere, and I''ll make some plans. Hit me up, Tim, Editing Wizard
REPLY FORWARD
Document 10: Grandeur & Loss
22nd of Tal How many times can you see the same sights before they lose their grandeur? I have seen many towns and even cities on my journey to the capital, the only thing that changes is their size. It is disappointing. I traveled little back home on earth, but even I knew that almost every nation outside my America had a rich history littered about their domains. After the million miles it feels I have crossed of the Ravena Empire, I had expected to see the same. But no, this world pales in comparison to Earth. Instead of rich history and changing architecture, every city seems to have been assembled from the same box kit. As beautiful and new and gleaming as the towering buildings of this country were at first, they are now equally boring. The view of the world outside the train I travel in now holds more wonder. The Ent network has failed me as well. The information that holds true amid the realms is mired within a thousand other parts that are propagandist or outright false. The time I must spend to separate the truth from the fiction, even on topics as simple as history, is horrendous. Already I have been duped by hundreds of realms purporting to teach in manipulating the Weave. Often the only way to verify or check the information is to directly test it in person. Such tests often end¡­ explosively. Now I simply note down what inconsistencies I find instead of putting them into practice. It takes longer, but Solen and his rangers are much more confident that I will make it to the capital in one piece. 26th of Tal We have made it to the capital, here is the lone edifice of history I could find in the empire. A large castle. It sits forgotten and crumbling on a hill just outside the sprawling capital, hidden in the shadow of the skyscrapers. I spotted it as we speed by on the train, barely a flash before It vanished behind the walls. I have noticed another thing that concerns me, there are realms on the ENT network that speak of other races, elves orks, dwarves, even beastmen. I have yet to see anything but humans¡­ and I suppose goblins. That combined with reports of a ¡°great war¡± a century ago concerns me. I say this because even in the massive capital, I see no diversity, and no real culture beyond the same that can be found anywhere else in the empire. Coming from the beautiful melting pot of ideas and places that is Boston, I cannot help but find such a monochrome cultural environment¡­ concerning. Solen has informed me he and his adventuring party would be returning to the frontier once I settled into the academy, I will be glad to see him go. It is rather hard to explore with his stern face following me around, perhaps with him gone I will find something outside the boring ¡®approved of¡¯ places of the empire.
VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª This is a later part of the previous video, it is likely the goblins have yet to discover how to turn the magical camera off. A few artifacts and glitches are scattered through the recording due to the long time the camera has been active. The camera sits in a pile of gear and equipment in the middle of a dark hall deep into the keep. Makeshift torches cover the walls, created from anything the goblins could get their hands on, mostly cloth dipped in a waxy substance, or splinters of rotten wood taken from somewhere else in the keep. The improvised lighting obscures the ceiling overhead with thick clouds of smoke, the flickering light barely illuminates the room. There is enough light to record by, however. A large pyre brightens the center of the room casting the weak torch lit edges of the hall into relative darkness. There are goblins gathered here en masse, hooting and hollering, leaky homemade cups splashing some of their contents around the room. Whenever their cups spill into the fire, it sparks and sputters, shooting out large tongues of flame. They are celebrating something, though it does not seem to be an entirely happy event. Every few minutes, a group of goblins come in carrying a dead goblin and toss him on the pyre, the flames leaping up to lick against the smoke covered ceiling. Each time a goblin is tossed on, the goblins raise a toast and pour out a cup into the fire. Giving the dead one last drink. The smell of burning goblin must be overwhelming, But still the wake goes on, goblin after goblin fed into the flames. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Once a while has passed with no more goblins to feed the flames, and the fire died down to embers. A new group of goblins walks into the room. This group of goblins is much shorter and paler than the others, and follow after a hunched old goblin. As the group makes their way into the room, the previously raucous group of goblins go silent and make way for the wizened goblin as he strides toward the pile of stuff just behind the darkened pyre, his walking stick taping along the stone. He turns to make a speech, speaking to the young goblins who followed him in, as well as the adult goblins lost in the deepening shadows about the hall. He ends the speech as the fire fully subsides, only hot glowing coals left for light, the darkness leaching all color from the recording, the flickering torches covered by the crowd - leaving the goblins gathered as a dark shifting mass. The occasional red, yellow, or orange set of eyes flashing out of the darkness as the camera catches them from just the right angle. The old goblin is silhouetted by the red coals of the dying pyre as he raises his walking stick to shout out a few last words. As he does so, the space just above his head lights up into silvery purple strands of color weaving into a fractal patterned square. A gust of wind shoots through the hall, relighting the fire and sweeping away the smoke and, presumably, the smell from the room. The goblins cheer, their somber mood lifted, and the goblin elder beckons the young ones forward to take an item from the pile. They fall on the pile, greedy hands grasping and pulling at the items, the frame of the camera shaking about. The adults can be heard egging the young goblins on as fights erupt over the nicest and shiniest bits of the hoard. The camera is the last piece to be grabbed, by a small pale orange eyed goblin, who is surprisingly unscathed when compared to his fellows. As he fiddles with the camera, his pale green fingers covering the lens, a faint click can be heard and the recording cuts out. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª
28th of Tal Today was my first true glimpse into this new world of magic, and I have learned much. This was my first full day free to roam the city, so I have come back to my student dorm rather late. There is not much to write about the city itself, I was only able to explore the skyscraper that houses Hitanur, the royal magic academy. Much of it is simply student dorms and common rooms to house the scholars here, and the rest is empty halls and classrooms. There are a few places I could not get, but on the whole it seemed surprisingly typical, the same as almost any collage campus back home. Another disappointment, you would think a school of magic would have more to show. An interesting fact, the people do not call the buildings skyscrapers, but rather Weavepeircers on account of their ability to defy gravity or, as they put it, pierce the natural Weave. The twisting patterns are enchantments, the metal there to guide the naturally existing Weave into a shape that will support the very implausible nature of the towers. It is the same with the floating city walls and carriages. The Ents are also enchanted, but not to twist reality. Their purpose is to encode, remember, and transmit information directly into the strands of the Weave itself. Those are all superficial answers to a few of the questions I have had on my journey here, I am less excited to glimpses of the answers to my bigger questions. I am becoming more and more certain that I cannot trust the people of this empire, one of the subjects taught here is history, the class stinks of indoctrination. I fear that this place may be even less understanding than the Germany of earths history. I have requested that Solen convince the guild to give me a copy of the contract I had signed. I may need to find a way to break the agreement, I should know what I risk. I am forgetting Gordon and my children more and more often, the idea of making it home is still very much on my mind but the memories fade in and out. In fact, ever since my rescue from the goblins, I have not felt very much emotion at all. Whatever has brought me an understanding of this place''s language may be trying to wrest away my emotions and memories of home. I plan to find a way to stop it, family means too much to let it slip away without a fight. Fortunately, my lessons in magic today have brought me closer to working with the Weave. What my teachers described, reminds me of knitting or crocheting all spells have a well-defined structure with different knots modifying the effects as it radiates out from a central knot. The diagrams my professor drew on the wall were quite similar to the pages of the giant book I studied back at the keep. I wish I had a better memory or had written them down. For now, I will continue to study here, and investigate the inner reaches of the Weave and my mind. I feel every day must take me closer to home.
Document 11: Trypanophobia VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The video begins in the great room of the lodge, again framing the decorated back wall and stonework fireplace. The box throne from the first two videos is gone, now repurposed into a low round table, with three foldable camping chairs set up surrounding the pile of plastic and cardboard. A steaming mug sits in front of each seat. In the chairs is Juju¡¯s team, a bizarre cast to see in the homey hunting lodge. Judy herself is wearing the same business-like attire of the previous video, her hair is slightly different though. Put up into a neat bun, with just a few strands astray, instead of the slick ponytail she was sporting previously. On her left is Tim, still dressed in his robe with the cowl pulled far over his face, projected into the scene as a blue hologram. It''s hard to tell if he is truly sitting in the chair and has edited the effect over top of him, or if he''s just edited his entire body into the scene. In the chair on Judy¡¯s right, across the table from Tim, sits a cork board. On a printed sheet of paper, pinned to the center of the board, is Fumushu. Her cheerful chibi avatar smiles into the camera, with a speech bubble pinned above her head in a separate sheet with an enthusiastic ¡°Hello!¡± Printed on. ¡°Welcome back Jujubees! The curious case of Grandma¡¯s goblin adventure continues.¡± Judy spreads her arms, as if to beckon her subscribers to take a seat at the table, ¡°If you haven''t figured out from the daily uploads we¡¯ve been compiling and uploading each document as we find them. At the end of each week, the three of us will all get together and discuss what we¡¯ve found.¡± She smiles, seeming a bit embarrassed, ¡°Since we hadn¡¯t fully worked out a solid plan for exactly how to upload all of the different types of documents, they have gone up without commentary from the team. A whole bunch of you complained in the comments all week about that, so you can expect more input from the team on what you''re seeing going forwards. Now I¡¯ll put links to all the videos we reference in the weekly overviews so you guys don''t have to comb through the channel to find the sources we use. If you aren''t up-to-date so far, watch the first two videos and come back, I¡¯ll be uploading them to a playlist so you can find them there.¡± Judy leans back in her chair, ¡°Now let''s get to it. There is one glaring question I think we¡¯ll need to answer to figure out where this case is going. Is magic real?¡± She nods to the hologram on her left, ¡°Tim, what do you think?¡± Tim shakes his head, ¡°I¡¯m of the opinion the whole thing is ridiculous, the video of the ¡®goblins¡¯ looks like CGI to me. I cannot fathom why your grandma believes cartoon violence makes for convincing footage. Not to mention their creepy eyes and the deranged magical effects.¡± He waves his hand and an image of the goblins'' split pupils shows up, distorted in the same style as his holographic avatar. ¡°Look at that, straight out of a bad horror film. The golden box ¡®computer¡¯ is only a slightly more impressive hoax. Though I imagine it''s nothing that couldn''t be done with some clever code and a Bluetooth connection.¡± He chuckles, ¡°No, I am certain that the whole thing is some wild goose chase your grandma designed for you, Juju. At least she spared no expense in setting up this whole ruse. I would say we stop giving this the time of day, break out the popcorn and watch through it like the fantasy show it is.¡± Across the table, Fumushu¡¯s avatar changes from the cute smile to an angry pout, the exited ¡°hello¡± now at odds with the drawing. Judy¡¯s face darkens as well, but she seems more conflicted than angry. She looks to the cork board on her right, ¡°Fumu, what do you think?¡± The chibi, still pouting, is animated crossing her arms, the page shifting and dancing with every frame as the next sheet is pinned to the board. This time instead of speech bubbles, a cute girly anime voice speaks out, the voice is slightly robotic, obviously computer generated. ¡°As I see it, Tim, you''re coping. Hard. Magic is the easiest explanation. Occam''s razor exists for a reason.¡± The Chibi¡¯s expression changes again, this time to a smug smile, arms still crossed, ¡°CGI? You asked me to take a look at those videos. We know full well you couldn¡¯t prove it if you tried. We should send out some of the boring forest footage we cut for time, see if Drizzlearow, or some other geoguessr guy can find where it was filmed. I¡¯ll bet they can¡¯t¡± Tim''s hologram shifts in his seat, flickering as Fumushu makes her point; she hasn¡¯t finished yet. ¡°I sent the taxidermy snake off to an expert too. His conclusion? Exactly the same as mine, It''s real. Or an impossibly well done fake, he had no idea better idea on how to do it then I did. And that''s his job." A twitter post fades onto the screen, supporting Fumushu¡¯s point. It lingers for a bit, then clears away. The chibi avatar remains static, pinned to the corkboard in a smug victory pose. Across the table, it''s impossible to tell how Tim still hologram, his face covered in a hood, takes her points. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. In the middle of the two, however, Judy¡¯s emotions are written all over her face, as usual. She seems conflicted, legitimately torn between the two perspectives. It doesn¡¯t look like anger at one side or the other but rather pure confusion. Or maybe pure frustration, as the debate continues to circle around the same points. Then the two ends of the table fall silent and still, the moment stretching for long enough that it feels as if the two have turned to look at Judy as she processes their points. Soon enough, her face still twisted into a small frown, she begins to speak. ¡°On my end I haven¡¯t decided what to believe yet, I think the fact this is coming from my grandmother brings it a bit closer to home for me. I have to question my grandma¡¯s whole character. Is -was- she a seriously strong woman who went through all of this and made her way back home? Or is she just some crackpot old lady who¡¯s decided to play a prank on me with her death... On the only person in the family who doesn¡¯t -didn¡¯t- already hate her?¡± As Judy speaks, the silence between her two companions turns from anticipation to something more uncomfortable. As if they were getting in trouble with a parent. Tim leans forward, resting his head on his hands, gloves disappearing into his cowl, sleeves hanging down. Fumushu¡¯s chibi avatar animates again, losing her smug grin and crossed arms, instead looking to Judy with a bit of concern. Judy herself doesn''t let that statement linger for long, ¡°I had to find what side of that argument I was on. Do I want the magic to be real, just because I want to believe Grandma is as cool as I knew she was growing up? Or does my family really have a point, is -was- she really just some cruel hateful old lady, and is just setting me up to embarrass myself.¡± A deep breath. ¡°So I called my aunt.¡± Judy takes out her phone, ¡°I recorded our conversation, and I think it may have cleared some things up.¡± The screen blurs and the recorded call begins, the two speakers transcribed on the blurred screen. ¡°Hey Aunt Jess, This is Judy. I¡¯m calling about Grandma.¡± Judy¡¯s voice is focused and professional. Much more guarded than It is when she speaks to her subscribers on video. ¡°Oh Hello Judy! Are you treating yourself better? You seemed so beat up and out of sorts at the funeral.¡± This voice is sickly sweet, saccharine insincerity laces every word. Her tone is so artificially constructed it''s unsettling, giving off the feeling that every word that comes out of her mouth is fake. Aunt Jess continues. ¡°Now Hun, I hope you¡¯ve given some more thought to what to do with Ulana¡¯s inheritance. I know that old bat had you fooled, but I would hope you realize that; if she really cared for the family like she said, she would have left something for all of us.¡± It doesn¡¯t feel like Jess is done speaking, but Judy takes advantage as her aunt stops for a breath. ¡°This is about the inheritance, actually, I wanted to ask you about Grandma¡¯s whole story. Do you remember anything about it? This is for a video.¡± ¡°That old bit? I told her to retire that poppycock. She tried to use some inane craziness to explain why she left us alone with dad.¡± Aunt Jess twists the question to talk about herself, ¡°Now I was never as foolish as your father. I never listened to any of that. I know well enough what happened. She left us to sleep with some rich billionaire, when he got tired of her, he paid her off. So she would be quiet about the whole deal. That''s how she made her money. I guarantee. That''s what you should look for.¡± The sugary tone falls away into something uglier, heated, and self-important as she speaks, fully transitioning as Aunt Jess clicks her tongue. ¡°Then she came crawling back to us, trying to talk about how important family is and how much she missed us. Disgusting. Whenever she got really angry she would call herself a queen. I mean, how self-important could she be, I could never.¡± Judy stays polite, her tone even more controlled now, ¡°A queen? Could you tell me more about that?¡± ¡°Oh, dear, that''s not important. Some-such to do with goblins. What is important is what you''re planing to do with all her stuff. I think you should sell it all and share some of that love around to the rest of the family. Really, it''s what your grandma deserved.¡± Judy responds, voice still professional but now obviously robotic and cold. ¡°I''ll think about it, Aunt Jess. That''s all I had for now.¡± Judy immediately hangs up the phone before her aunt can say more. The last line of text scrolls off the screen and the blur fades away. The atmosphere at the table is even more frigid than before. Fumushu¡¯s chibi face has changed, from a questioning one to an exaggerated and ugly glower, seemingly glaring at the phone like she could light it on fire with her eyes. Tim just simply says ¡°sh~beep~t¡±. Judy now less conflicted and considerably angrier nods, ¡°sh~beep~t, is right. I know there was more to get out of my aunt there. On any other case, I probably would have gotten it too. But after that¡­ I was just done. I think I would rather trust my grandma then that.¡± At this Fumushu speaks up, ¡°Hold that thought, I have an idea. I think we can prove that magic exists.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Judy replies ¡°Yes,¡± Fumushu¡¯s glare wipes away to a grin,¡± How are you with needles?¡± At this, Judy goes white. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Document 12: Grandmas Test VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The view of the camera is once again grainy and distantly framed, this time from the high ceiling of a familiar room. The harsh angle and wide view displays so much more of the chaos littered about the hunting lodge''s great room. The security camera sits against one wall, almost to the roof high in the center of the room. We can see the other three walls from this point, two familiar and one new. The back wall, with the rocky fireplace and chimney, is still cluttered with weapons, though now quite a few of the stuffed trophies sit on the ground in front of the wall. The chalkboard still reaches up to the slanted ceiling on the right side of the room. And on the left wall lies the first glance of the fantastical paintings Fumushu mentioned earlier. The sharp downward angle makes it difficult to get a good view of what is pictured in the paintings. The room no longer looks like a cozy, if cluttered home. From this view it looks like a dollhouse or movie set, artfully designed to generate stress; the clutter, angle, and low quality combine to create a pressing drama that twists into the center of the room. There the three YouTubers stand around their constructed boxy roundtable, the odd device sitting in the middle, at the very center of the shot. The transcription begins halfway through Fumushu¡¯s sentence, Her raspy voice still dissonant coming from her pastel outfit and bunny hat. ¡°-and you¡¯ll cut me out of the final video?¡± she¡¯s looking across to Tim, sitting in the camp chair where he was in the most recent video. It appears he was actually sitting there while they filmed. Tim¡¯s cowl shakes imperceptibly, then he raises a thumb to Fumushu. He¡¯s slouched in the camp chair. It''s a stark contrast to his proper posture earlier. Judy¡¯s bun has devolved from the relatively neat bun in the video to an askew mess. It hangs off of her head, still looking good with her wavy auburn hair. She isn''t paying attention to her two teammates'' conversation, all of her focus is on the clear orb wrapped in gold in front of her. Judy and Fumushu are standing, Judy leaning into the table as if she can physically intimidate the device, and Fumushu a bit back from the table, one hand hidden in the sleeve of her baggy hoodie resting on the back of the cork board next to her. The only person whose face can be seen is Judy, the three of them small in frame like dolls posed for the camera. ¡°I can¡¯t do this, Fumu, no needles.¡± Judy says, ¡°Can we not find something else, edit out that bit at the end and post the video as it is?¡± She looks at Tim, who just shrugs, spreading his arms out to the sides to make sure this time the gesture can be seen. Neither girl takes this as an answer, and under the pressure of their gazes, Tim relents. ¡°Of course, I¡¯m fine with doing away with Fumushu¡¯s ¡°proof¡±. I can always just edit around it. We can find some other lesser way to end the video.¡± He tucks his gloved hands behind his head and leans back, his chin just peeking out from under his hood, his skin is white. ¡°You¡¯re the boss, Judes.¡± ¡°You are insufferable, you know? Really doesn''t come across in emails.¡± Judy gives Tim a glare.¡± I¡¯m trying here, and that''s no help, you know it.¡± Tim just stands up and heads out of the shot. Toward the only wall, the camera doesn¡¯t record. ¡°Not my problem, I came to help you clear out your grandma¡¯s stuff, not glorify it. If you get around to ¡®proving¡¯ all this malarkey, let me know.¡± He points at the camera, sounding annoyed as he passes out of view, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure we record it.¡± ¡° Wow,¡± Fumushu shakes her head, bunny ears flopping around, ¡°What''s got him so against all of this? Who isn¡¯t looking for some magic in their life?¡± She looks at Judy, ¡°I¡¯ll stay here, for support! Though I shouldn''t stand in camera, I don¡¯t want A**holes online like Tim to complain that the video was edited because he had to take me out.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. She wanders toward the wall the camera is mounted on, though clearly to a different place than Tim. A scraping noise can be heard, wooden chair legs on tile, then Fumushu¡¯s voice right below the camera, ¡°If you really don''t want to prick your finger it''s fine, I can find something else to prove magic. Your grandma left more than enough to convince me.¡± ¡°I think I have to, I think I should. My grandma always sounds so scared to tell me about all of this. Am I really any better than my family if I can''t just do this one small thing?¡± Judy seems so small at this moment, as if her inability to reach out and prick her finger was the greatest personal failure she could imagine. >>> 2X Speed <<< The two sit silent, Judy able to do nothing more than stare at the sharp point of the golden arm reaching out to her. Her hands are wrapped around the top flap of one of the boxes on the table, griping it and curling the cardboard. They twitch - once, then twice - straining against Judy''s fear. The movement is the only indication of the fierce battle going on in Judy¡¯s head. >>> Normal Speed <<< Suddenly, Judy throws up her hands and steps away from the table, ¡°No, I can¡¯t. Not this¡­ I¡¯m¡­ sorry grandma.¡¯ She shrinks into herself, the view of the camera no longer able to see anything but her back as she halts in her abrupt retreat from the device. ¡°No, No. Who am I. I can do this,¡± she whirls back to the table, almost dragging herself through the space to grab the arm of the device, her thumb hovering over the needle. ¡°I can do this!¡± She looks away - plunges her thumb down on the needle. Light floods the room, the camera''s poor lens overwhelmed. Two shouts, one of panic and victory, the other of pain, fear, and shock. The light lessens. Judy has sunken down, shaking, hand still on the device. Pale. It''s a stark contrast to the stream of blood that spills out of her thumb, the needle embedded deep inside. Her fear lead her to push her thumb too hard into the tip. The blood flows down the arm of the device, staining it, dripping down to the crate. Judy¡¯s pale face is exaggerated by the blue-white that shines on it. A bright thread leading from her thumb and to the crystal orb of the device. It glows a bright but pale blue, It isn¡¯t frayed at all, but rather a clean streak of blue that leads to a tangle of the same thread inside the circular crystal. Even through the video, the thread has this weight to it, as if you were seeing a secret withheld for only the divine. The thread pulls at you, at the part of your brain that simply understands how the world works. It seems to settle itself in that place: to finally put a name, a final conclusion to the everlasting childhood question. An answer to why, to all whys. The glowing tangle is impossible to make clearly out on the substandard security camera. But any who see it, even through video, know that instead of a tangle much of the thread inside is structured in many tiny fractals, repeating patterns in three dimensions all the way down to the center of the orb. The conclusion seems to speak itself into the mind in the same way the thread outside the orb does. The moment breaks. Fumu rushes to Judy¡¯s side, ¡°Ohmygod- what the - JUDY! Why? Are you ok? Please be ok.¡± Her words collide and mix together, a jumble of joy and concern. ¡°That¡¯s magic! Real magic! -Your finger - you need help, let me help.¡± She reaches Judy''s side and gently pries her away from the magic detector, helping her stand and guiding her out of view to the kitchen. As Judy¡¯s thumb is gently pried off the needle, the string connecting her to the device snaps with a thrum, then a pop. The sound could be audible, but as before is felt much louder in that instinctual space in the back of a viewer''s mind. The tangled weave inside the orb, however, remains, glowing softly. Seconds after the two disappear from the shot, Tim rushes in. He stops in his tracks as he sees the device, lit up with the tapestry of threads. ¡°F*ck¡± The curse comes from deep in his chest, too quiet to be heard by the panicking girls in the kitchen. He collapses much the same way Judy did, just before finding the strength to jab her finger. Shoulders curling to his chest, spine rolling forward. Whatever he fears has come to pass. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Document 13: Public Forum
Banana K40 June 29: 10:06 (edited) I see a whole bunch of people commenting about a feeling at the end of the video. We can be scientific about this, leave a like here if you felt something weird at the end bit. We can compare the number to the total views on the video. Maybe we will see a significant correlation. Edit: Holy crap, guys like 86% of the views have also left a like WTF? Read more [Like] 560K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
Fionaranger3 June 28 | 19:32 Anyone else feel weird during that last bit? I''m not so much of a fan of all of this new stuff, JuJu''s grandma seems a bit scary. I''m a bit too old to believe in Magic, That whole device seemed sketchy too. I think JuJu should listen to Tim. This whole thing seems like a no good prank, go back to the old stuff. [Like] 24.3K [Dislike] [Comment] 457 Replies ^
Tinleye June 28: 20:17 I believe in the magic, are you kidding me, How could you not feel that at the end? This is the coolest stuff to happen on the internet ever, JuJu is facing her fears and putting her life on the line for this. I want to see more! [Like] 53.7K [Dislike] [Comment]
Sheepert Floof June 28: 20:18 Feel what? All I am is queezey no blood please [Like] 5.3K [Dislike] [Comment]
verventerse3254 June 28: 20:47 I absolutely agree this is ridiculous and gone on too long already seriously whats with all of these unedited video''s teh whole week? and all of these should seriously have a content warning, I don''t know what deranged cgi artist made those goblin videos but I watch this channel with my daughter I used to love this channel but I''m unsubscribing I dont... Read more [Like] 13.5K [Dislike] [Comment]
XUsumaki7X June 28: 21:06 (edited) I like the magic stuff even if its not real i like that this channel didn''t warn us about becoming about fiction makes this feel reall anyway [Like] 4K [Dislike] [Comment]
XXX TOUCH ME XXX June 28: 21:06 A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. This channel always has the best secrets ?? ??????If you want to see some of my secrets click my name ?????? [Like] 4 [Dislike] [Comment]
Borgentric5345 June 28: 21:06 (edited) Oh no the bots are here [Like] 300 [Dislike] [Comment]
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Mad Crustless Smy June 28: 18:12 TYF the video! [Like] 20 [Dislike] [Comment]
FumuFan<3 June 28: 19:06 (edited) AHHHHHHH!!!!!! FUMUSHU VOICE REVEAL!!!!!!!! SHE''S CUTE AND SMOL IN REAL LIFE!!!!!! IM DYING [Like] 74K [Dislike] [Comment] ?? 5 Replies ^
FantasticAnime June 28: 19:07 (edited) We have been blessed tonight. I need that bunny hat. [Like] 30K [Dislike] [Comment]
Crochetgob June 28: 19:14 (edited) Agree on the bunny hat Fumu should sell it as merch! [Like] 42K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
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Cldcasegrl5 June 29 | 15:29 JuJu looked really hurt I hope they are ok. [Like] 22.1K [Dislike] [Comment]
Black Willow 73 June 30 | 3:38 Yall dumb, Goblins clearly paid actors [Like] 10.7K [Dislike] [Comment]
Jerence glyn June 31 | 6:53 You know I respect the bit. unsubed [Like] 5K [Dislike] [Comment] 2 Replies >
TwistedTabaxi June 32 | 13:43 This kinda feels like a dnd campaign Someone should get JuJu on Dimension 15 [Like] 5K [Dislike] [Comment] 8 Replies >
13CouncilMWF June 29 | 9:00 We are watching. We disapprove. [Like] [Dislike] [Comment]
Document 14: Tangled Weave Hello JuJubees! This Is JuJu, as you guys requested, we are adding the team''s commentary to all the documents we release going forward. Today, you get me! I¡¯m ok, I hope that last video didn¡¯t scare you all too much. Fumu got my thumb all wrapped up and calmed me down. Tim is editing it all together now while I get this ready, He says it¡¯s going to be a really good video. As much as he annoys me, he tends to be spot on when it comes to how well a video is going to do. The guy knows his stuff. Now, because we are adding a bit more oversight to these, I¡¯ve edited the stuff we have today to make a better story. I¡¯ll add in my comments so you won''t be too confused, though! Let''s get started. It seems my grandma has some more things to tell us about magic and the academy she finds herself in:
42 of Tal, 128 The humans of this world concern me. I hesitate to truly identify myself as one of them. My fellow students at this academy seem cordial enough to me, but that is a thin veneer. I have seen my first true fantasy race, a biped with feline features. A cat girl. She is a student here as well, but the others treat her like a slave. I hesitate to get involved, as I would prefer to make it home safely without sticking my head into a delicate matter. I know full well what happens to those who support the minority, the civil rights movement was what took my father away from me. So I hide in the library where few venture, studying. I know that if I see too much more abuse to that poor girl, I will not be able to stop myself. Things will get ugly quickly. In opposition to the grim politics, my studies continue, magic comes easily to me. I believe I have finally understood enough of the basics to be confident to teach them to others. I will record those basics here. In part, so I am always reminded of the essentials myself, and otherwise in hopes that when I return home, I can teach this to my children. There are all kinds of names and terms the professors use to describe the beginning steps of a spell. I do not see any point in confusing you with terminology from this world, I had to cut through the mysticism of what exactly a ¡®Fundamental Weave Loop¡¯ was, and I see no point in sharing that headache when we have a less pretentious name in use back home. It is a slip knot, yes we are using the fabric of the universe, but a slip knot is still a slip knot. I am getting ahead of myself. The essential structure of a spell is essentially a granny square, for those who do not crochet I will elaborate. It starts with a small circle made in the weave with a slip knot. Now, most squares begin from the center and radiate outwards, but is too advanced for a novice. Instead, we will start with the simplest of all crochet techniques, a chain. Imagine a crochet hook in your mind, and insert it right into the loop of the slip knot, pull it tight. Wrap the thread of weave up and over your mental hook, making a second loop around it, catch that loop in the curve of your hook and pull it through the slip knot. Congratulations, you have chained one. Repeat this process and chain the weave as far as you would like. Careful, though, fail to hold the entire construction sturdy in your mind and the chain unravels and vanishes. The longer or larger the chain, the harder the weave fights you. This does not take nearly as much time as you may expect, as a wizard has no need to use a crochet hook to physically weave the Weave. If one can imagine how a knot or stitch is constructed and can exert precise control, each stitch only takes the slightest thought. A novice can use this chain as an invisible string, creating an effect similar to mild telekinesis, grabbing light objects and pulling them along. An expert can take that telekinesis farther. The second spell I have been taught is also one I was familiar with from home. It begins with a chain, one as long as you need. Professor Riego suggests to start with just fifteen stitches. Then you take your first step towards true crocheting. Here they call it a ¡°Simple Weave Expansion Tie¡± back home, it was known as the humble single crochet. What is true is that it is simple; take your hook and push it into the top of the last stitch of your chain. Wrap the weave overhand around the hook and pull through - not all the way - just through the stitch. If done properly, you know have two loops around your hook, loop the weave around your hook once more, and pull through both loops. As you continue in this way, stitch by stitch then row by row, you will finish the spell. This spell is a simple shield, it solidifies or re-enforces where ever you have manipulated the weave. If woven in the air it creates a hard invisible barrier. Inside of an object or material, it strengthens it. The natural weave of the atmosphere is most malleable and least likely to fight against such manipulation. This makes for quick if weak shields. If you weave inside a material, the natural structure of the object will fight against you, making reinforcement much more difficult. However, the difficulty results in much stronger structures. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The Professors at the academy hint that other structures can be woven into existence, things that create and control nature. I have seen the more experienced students summon fire and water, twisting it into their will. I would be excited to experiment with such magic, if it were not for the warning I was given upon my very first lecture. The Weave is a fickle beast, and a natural phenomenon. Twisting it in ways not understood can result in varied and random effects, an ill-advised tangle has as good odds of teaching something new as it does of killing you.
Interesting right? With the whole magic detection device, this seems to be a bright spot, at least if magic works outside of ¡®Elentier¡¯. Fumushu is trying to teach me how to crochet now, and it''s going horribly. Gran doesn¡¯t mention a whole lot of things, like tension or hook size. Fumu even tried to give me a whole lecture on yarn types. I know people will ask, JuJu are you going to try to do magic right away? And the answer is absolutely not. If this stuff is real, I do not want to mess around with it. Odds are I¡¯ll end up finding out it''s real in the worst possible way. I know that for a fact, too. Take a look at this recording. You''ll see what I mean. There''s a bunch of empty space I cut out getting up to the action here, don''t worry about what your missing out on, nothing much was happening. I can post the raw footage in the discord, link in the description, if you want to join the bees and take a closer look. VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The video begins, the footage shaky, peaking out behind a crumbling doorway out to a greater hall. The hall itself is also crumbling, the stones mossy, and whatever furnishings that had once graced the space have long since splintered and rotted. Light streams in from the far corner of the hall, the walls crumbled inward, littering the floor with stony debris. The crumbling section spreads, making a craggy v shape, only broken up by the strong stone arch of a grand entrance directly across the room, the wooden door rotten and ajar but still standing. Inside the hall, lit by the morning light, are a collection of goblins. And three massive wolves. The goblin¡¯s screams and war cries fill the space; and they brandish long sticks, jagged and snapped on both ends, towards the wargs. The wargs, look sickly and tattered. The normally massive and stately kings of the pack lacking the thick and warm fur typical of their species, instead their fur is matted and dirty. They still stand tall, however, nearly as tall as the goblins, or up to the chest of a human. They look far too thin to bear that height, their ribs showing through their sides and their legs thin and bony. Whatever desperation drove these three here sustains them more than enough to overwhelm the pack of goblins trying to hold them off. They rip through the goblins, pushing away the improvised spears with ease, biting off limbs and slamming the goblins against the walls and larger rocks of the hall. Soon the goblins organize and circle up around one of their number, shabby wooden spears pointed out at all angles. The goblin begins to shriek and yell, thrusting his hands out in front of him and waving them around. The air begins to glow, a random tangle of glowing strands surrounds him like a net in all directions. His fingers plunge into them, pulling and twisting and tying with no rhyme or reason. One of the wargs finds bravery and rushes the group, slamming through the protecting goblins. Shattering a spear and biting the head off of one poor soul. As the warg pushes forward to the center goblin, that goblin¡¯s yells reach a crescendo and the Weave around him quivers and locks into place in the air, random twists and knots in it like a child¡¯s tangled ball of yarn. The goblins that had been protecting the mage from the warg have cut and run, putting as much distance between the two as they can. The Weave brightens, then vanishes from view, along with the goblin. The warg still stands for a moment, then it collapses. Its front leg and half its face liquified and streaming down to the stones beneath it, mixing with a suspiciously green puddle already there. One goblin has been cut off in his retreat by one of the two remaining wargs. As he is backed into the corner of the room, he holds one hand out, a much smaller tangle of the weave illuminating and twisting in his fingers. The warg hesitates at the glow, wary of its effects, and growls at the lone goblin. The weave does not aid this one, as the glow subsides nothing has changed but the color of the hand he used to cast, now a bright pink standing out from his green skin. The warg rushes him and dashes him against the wall. The camera shakily pans to the other side of the room where the last six goblins huddle, three of them in an arc pointing their spears at the other warg. The other three frantically dance about in the space protected by the spear bearers, pulling and twisting at the weave. Which already glows its cool white as they pull at it, handing off strands to each other and wrapping themselves in the glow. The warg attempts to rush the goblins, and stop whatever they are trying to do. But the three spear bearers finally manage to hold one of them off. The warg lets out a sharp whine of pain. The splintered wooden end of a spear stabing into his flank. The other warg bounds into the frame and presses his weight on to the spear line. Buckling the goblins and pushing them away. The second warg is too late, the weave begins to brighten as he crashes into the spear holders. Soon the light is overwhelming, the camera covered in white. Then a loud boom shakes the air rattling the lens of the camera. The light recedes, the camera showing an empty room with a crater where the goblins and wargs had just been fighting. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Document 15: Not-so Incidental Reports Hello all, I am known by many names online. But you, you can call me¡­ Tim? Juju said that I couldn¡¯t be trusted to be impartial on any of the rest of the documents we are putting out this week, so you get me for this collection. These are some of the physical documents still in the boxes around the lodge, and if the dates on the golden cube are to be trusted, which is not a guarantee, these fall next in the chronological order of events. You have me to thank, viewers, for finding these, as Fumushu and Juju are still trying to make ¡®magic¡¯ work. If they find anything, I¡¯ll be sure to edit it into the fourth video, don¡¯t hold your breath. I give more than good odds there¡¯s nothing to find. So while they mess around with yarn and that impractical ¡®magic¡¯ computer, I¡¯ve been doing the actual work, scrounging through ink and paper. Now there is a diary entry for this date as well, but old Granny Trinaday is a bit too angry in that to write coherently for an audience, so these will have to do. Prepare for some classic school drama, I¡¯d call it an obvious troupe, but Juju doesn¡¯t want me to ¡®color your view point¡¯. These are the reports of the first ¡®Incident¡¯ one Ulana Trinaday caused while at school. Let me tell you this is the first of Many.
Official Royal Academy of the Woven Art Record
Incident Report
Location: Back of Library A3 ......................................................................................................................... Time: 20:00
DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT Daren Dorsel
Me, Marick, and Anmity were just minding our business in the library. Looking for books and stuff. Then we saw that dumb beastkin who looked suspicious wandering around the library. Anmity said we should make sure she wasn''t up to anything with the books, so we followed her. She was rubbing her grubby paws all over the shelves, so we thought we should stop her. You know, teach that uncivilized mutt how to show proper respect in a library. Then we were attacked, the demon-kin must be friends with that witch. And lured us to the back of the library, so her friend could beat us up for no reason. The witch was terrifying, and must know some kind of dark weave. I had no warning, she just walked up behind me and I couldn''t stand anymore. So I crumpled to the floor and could only hear the rest of the fight. I heard what must have been Marick falling to the floor, then soon after another thump and Anmity¡¯s scream. I wanted to get up to help, but I couldn¡¯t even twitch. The witch came back over to me, but all I could see was her shoes. I heard her say, ¡°Be careful what arm you use to hold down a lady. If I see this again, I will make sure you lose it.¡± Then she broke my arm. Please keep her away from me.
At Fault:
NO
Official Royal Academy of the Woven Art Record
Incident Report
Location: Back of Library A3 ......................................................................................................................... Time: 20:00
DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT Marick Nostelos
My friends and I were going to the library to study for a test that was coming up soon. While we were on our way to a study room in the back of the library, we were stopped by the fox girl. She got in our way, so we had to stop to let her know that standing in such an obnoxious place was impolite. She was clearly only there as a trap for her friend, who attacked us for no reason. The woman who attacked us is clearly a dangerous terror and shouldn¡¯t be allowed to weave. I hardly had time to react when all of a sudden Daren was lying face down on the floor. I don''t know what she did to him, and I didn¡¯t have much time to see either. She attacked me next, I had no time, so I tried to defend myself with a punch. But she just walked right past it. She stomped on my foot and I heard something snap. What ever she did to my foot hurt. I tried to take my weight off of it, but she was ready for that too. She grabbed me and threw me to the floor. I don''t remember anything but the stones of the library floor coming at my face at an alarming speed. I believe that the women who attacked us should recompense the school for our injuries.
At Fault:
NO
You may notice that these two are spouting absolute BS. The story doesn¡¯t line up at all. I mean, seriously? One of you says you''re there looking for books, then the other turns around and says you''re there to study. Were you interrupted by the fox girl, or did you follow her? Get with the program, guys. Let''s see if the mastermind behind it all can tie it all together and get the story back on track. Spoilers! Those two are small beans compared to her. They have a conscience, downright saints in comparison. This girl is unreal. Completely off her rocker, the way she puts the whole thing makes me a bit queasy. She''s got problems, and not the fun ¡®I can fix her¡¯ kind. Real. Bona fide. Insanity. I hope this isn¡¯t the general human opinion on the other races of Elentier. I¡¯m starting to feel for the goblins. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Official Royal Academy of the Woven Art Record
Incident Report
Location: Back of Library A3 ......................................................................................................................... Time: 20:00
DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT Anmity Eriseld
Miserable mutts should never be allowed to exist in polite society. Me and the boys were doing this establishment a favor by dragging her somewhere quiet so we could re-educate the b**ch. She must have planned this all. Beastlings are demon-spawn who exist for no other reason but to harm humanity. Anyone who thinks otherwise should be burned at the stake like the witches they are. We were just getting on with dealing with that subhuman when we were attacked. Whoever that woman was, she needs to be locked up for the good of humanity. Clearly, she is a race traitor and should be put down with the muck she cavorts with. Somehow, she came from behind and just dropped Darren to the floor. He has a foot and likely several hundred pounds on her, so that was clearly an application of dangerous and outlawed weaving. She didn¡¯t even say anything, just walked right by Darren on the ground and brazenly attacked Marick. Stomped on his foot then somehow slammed him in to the ground too. She must be getting some kind of super strength from her illicit dealings with demon-folk to be able to throw around to bigger men like that. I had of course prepared a weave by this point, so I took aim with a wind blade, hoping to do the world another favor and cut that traitorous head off its body. I am certain she has some kind of dark training or skills, as she somehow had the time to weave a basic shield to save her skin. At this point, I knew my only option would be to beat a hasty retreat and inform someone about this monster we had somehow let into these hallowed halls. She had other plans, I felt a simple weave chain ensnare my foot - impossibly fast. I missed my next step and hit the ground. An honorable opponent would have let me regain my feet, instead she barely gave me any time to think. The next thing I knew, her foot was slamming into my chest. My ribs cracked, and the pain was too much. She should be killed or exiled.
At Fault:
NO
You know, when someone acts like this, they have to learn it from somewhere. That''s scary. Especially when you yourself have had mentors who teach you some¡­ less than mainstream information. Never know if you''ve been taught to believe some truly heinous stuff till someone comes along and sticks you in a padded cell. Then you have to face the questions. Is it you who is wrong, or is it everyone else? Here the world, or at least the school, seems to have gone insane. This girl needs serious help or serious consequences. I may not believe most of what Granny¡¯s left for Juju but the message this sends is something I support. Speaking of that certain someone. The last of these little reports is from Granny herself, you may notice now that a certain fox girl¡¯s report is oddly missing. It seems the school has a definite view on the worth of her testimony. That does not bode well for our brave hero. Who very clearly has a different opinion of what transpired than the rest. So that''s a point for rallying against mainstream ideas. She and I agree, and so do you. I think I speak for the internet when I say; We stan fox girl!
Official Royal Academy of the Woven Art Record
Incident Report
Location: Back of Library A3 ......................................................................................................................... Time: 20:00
DESCRIPTION OF INCIDENT Ulana Trinaday
The three scholars responsible for this incident began by cornering a fourth scholar inside the library, just after sundown. At the time I was inside a study room, one just close enough to hear them through the library¡¯s sound damping weave. I was first alerted to their presence by the noise, an oddity in the silent and respectful halls of the library. When I ventured outside to request they quiet down and leave me to my studies, I quickly understood what was going on. I will not repeat what they said in full on an official document out of professionalism and to preserve Miss Alvetica¡¯s dignity. It should suffice to say that they called her such things as, ¡°dirty animal¡±, ¡°beastling¡± and ¡°sub-person¡±; even going so far as to question her heritage, calling her a ¡°demon-lover¡± and ¡°demon-spawn¡±. Any person would have the right to take offense at this, but Miss Alvetica simply looked down, and said nothing. She showed remarkable restraint. At this juncture I would have been satisfied with them leaving poor Alvetica be, and prepared to ask them to do so. Then they incited the situation to violence. The center of the group, a girl whose name I do not know, slapped Alvetica to the ground and began to kick her as she lay there, defenseless. I am not as restrained as Miss Alvetica and once the woman''s two cronies grabbed the poor girl up and held her against the wall, I am afraid I lost my temper. I do not regret what I did to them, I will accept what punishment must come from my lack of restraint. However, I believe that they also owe Alvetica a public apology for their reprehensible actions.
At Fault:
Yes
Punnishment: Restitution For Damages caused; 40 Hours comunity service
No s*it you ¡®lost your temper¡¯ Granny. The other three seem fully convinced that you are some super wizard with dark magic who was sent from hell to kill them. From the sound of it, you put them into the magic world equivalent of the ICU. Though personally, I find Grandma Trinaday¡¯s actions here to be really, really impressive, it''s not as easy as it sounds to stick your neck out for the little guy. Very few people will go this far. Being the little guy more than once, myself. I would know. I¡¯ve spent too much time as ¡®Miss Alvetica¡¯ in my life. It makes me wonder where I will fall if the situation was ever reversed. What decision would I make? I would want to believe in myself, in all that I¡¯ve learned. That the people who have taught me wouldn¡¯t lead me to ruin. Right now, I can''t tell what those lessons would turn me into. I haven¡¯t had to face this decision before. Would I really still be a protector? Or¡­ would I become something else? Am I destined to be one of the bullies, finally given power and accepted into an in-group? Deluded into thinking I¡¯m doing the right thing and punishing the odd ones out? Is the larger group correct often enough to trust, when they identify threats to the world? It¡¯s pretty clear on Grandma Trinaday¡¯s ¡®Elenteir¡¯ what the answers to those questions are, I wish it was clear here on earth too. Is it better to act as Granny did? Even if she was wrong, is protecting the people who speak out against what you know a good thing? Is protecting them from all the people who believe as you do, a moral obligation? Is any information by itself a danger, or should those things be shared? My heart says this is the right direction to take. If only my head agreed. I don''t know who I should be protecting. The many or the few? The idea or the individual? The present or the future? Viewers, the answers to my questions are going to change more than you all could know. I can only hope I make the right decision. Tim out. Document 16: Contractual Concerns Hello!!! Fumushu here. After the last video it¡¯s been crazy to be me on the internet, you all have been so incredibly kind. Thank You! Before we get on with all this, I will answer the big questions my fans have been asking: First! Am I going to use my voice instead of the robotic voice for new videos? No, as you can hear, I¡¯m still using the robot. I don¡¯t like my voice IRL and hearing it recorded doesn¡¯t help. Second! Did Tim edit my voice/appearance into the last video without letting me know? No, we had a talk about it and I agreed to let that part go out unedited. Tim can be¡­ hard to work with, but when it really counts, he cares and is polite. I thought it was important that everyone saw what Juju did, and that she was O.K. Plus, there is a bigger reveal before I run in any way. Magic is real! Third! Will I sell the bunny hat as merch on my channel? Yes, but mine is homemade! So, I set up a gofundme for it. Link in the description if you want to support! Fourth! Will there be a video about the revival and merch on my channel? Yes! I¡¯m already working on a video in my spare time! Look for that in a bit. There¡¯s still a lot I¡¯m helping Juju with. Last! Is anything going to change about my art now that I¡¯ve done a mini reveal? I had to think really hard about this one. Most of the animated YouTubers I¡¯ve really respected stuck to one main character to represent them the whole time. Even after they reveal their face. I have been thinking about keeping the Chibi Fumu the same, but with all the positivity and love you guys have shown me I couldn¡¯t help but do some drawings¡­ I guess we can try them out today and see what you think? Now onto the document! We found a guide for the Adventurer¡¯s Guild contracts, Like the one Grandma Trinaday signed! It¡¯s not the actual article itself, but it is a guide to making them that shines some light on what¡¯s going on. Juju and Tim both agreed I was the only one who had even the smallest chance of making this fun, so let¡¯s give it a shot! I am not going to just read through the whole thing. If you want to subject yourself to that, the unedited doc. is linked and in the discord. You can join the crazies picking this apart, if you really want. The guys who can understand all this have told me to pull out just two parts to talk about! So what does this legalese translate to? Well, it¡¯s shady as heck, and explains a lot about Grannies diary entries¡¯ lack of concern for the contract she signed. I¡¯ve been told this boils down to a magically reinforced nondisclosure agreement, an NDA. The difference? Instead of silence being enforced by the Guild with a team of lawyers ready to blast you into oblivion. This section tries to indicate that they can restrict you from even having the idea of talking about the details of the contract from inside your head. Now a fun result of this contract being a magical one is that it fully can deliver on that promise; and we, not having magic, have no way to check if that¡¯s possible. Not that we would want to mess around with stuff like this. Which means this could, if we are being extreme, monitor and regulate all actions. Literally restructuring the way you think, or maybe it would be more accurate to say reweaving the way you think. There¡¯s no real proof of this. None of the researchers have found any section that outlines how a contract is enforced. That has made most of them suspicious, a good portion want me to tell you that this document is, entirely, a magically enforced thought crime. Humanity is not looking very good on the other side, folks. It may be that Ms. Trinaday is literally incapable of even intending to mention this contract to anyone. Terrifying! That effectively censors her diary. As she is clearly writing it to be read by people back on earth. That means that any mention of the contract inside of those pages is disallowed. Of note, an interesting exception to that rule happens immediately after she signs it. The current theory is that it takes time for the weave to work its wonders. Then there is a second mention about 18 days later. That second mention interested the crazy discord lawyers, so they did more digging through the document. Somehow, they found an explanation, which was not easy. It says this; Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. This boils down to a release from the strict lock of information in that first section. First for just the other members of the guild, then later to other non specific people. That second group is only allowed in one circumstance; if the use of the information would benefit the guild somehow. It¡¯s not just a release either, it is specifically worded like a mandate, almost forcing people to act on what they know. The discord guys want you to know that this section is put in a place as logically disconnected from the first bit as possible. Whoever wrote this does not want people reading these contracts and understanding them. I want you to know that I think the Adventurer¡¯s guild is a cult. Think about it. Would you like to hang out with people who you aren¡¯t allowed to fully communicate with? Imagine having a hard time, and not being able to tell your friends because the details have been deemed ¡°Critical Guild secrets¡±. This is a great way to isolate guild members from the rest of society, because only other guild members understand what you are going through. Now keep in mind this is just a guide on making a guild contract, it won¡¯t line up to what Grandma Trinaday was given perfectly. But, I¡¯d bet it restricts her from sharing information from her home to anyone but another member of the guild. As that would likely fall under ¡°Critical guild secrets¡±. As well as restricting her from acting in any way that might harm the guild. Interesting that they don¡¯t phrase it here as those actions would be cause to break off the contract instead it just bans those actions. Odd oversight for such a specific legalese document, unless we are right about its mind-bending capabilities. I think I can use these two pieces of information to talk about how this contract might literally be written into your soul. My proof? Take a look at this diary entry made some time after the incident Tim describes.
14 of Wein I believe I have cleaned every inch of the academies ¡®prestigious¡¯ tower. My forty hours of community service has quickly ballooned. First, only forty then eighty, now nearly two hundred. I wonder If I will run out of enemies brave enough to insult me or things to clean first. My reckless actions have made their consequences clear. I am now just as much a social pariah as Miss Alvetica and her fellow beaskin at this school, few as they are. We travel together through the halls now, they stay close to me. The usual suspects are much less likely to harass them in my presence. Miss Alvetica keeps asking me to follow her somewhere else in the city- Saying that there are some people who would like to meet me. I wish I had the time to go. Soon perhaps, I feel as if I am close to mastering my thoughts. I have little time to study anymore, little time to myself to think. What time I am not chaperoning the beastkin around, I am using to clean the tower, or any other odd task the academy deems as fulfilling my ¡®community service¡¯. I wish I could stop. Halt the hours of pointless tasks and take my life back. But something in my mind keeps pulling me away from those desires. Pushing me to stop the fools hurling insults at me. Pushing me to protect some idea of honor. I can not come to say that I am entirely wrong. The people of the Adventurer''s Guild died to get me here. I will hear nothing against their names. The bestkin are exactly the same, someone needs to stand for them like the adventurers stood for me. No one else is here, so I will fill that role. I do worry, however, that something has changed deep within me. This anger is not something I normally felt back home. In my time learning to be a doctor, I learned that much more is gained when you grin and bear it. Often the response those who hurl insults desire is anger. I know that giving them the satisfaction is folly. Something must have changed me. Was it traveling here? There is no telling what weaving pulled me from my living room. It could be the academy, attempting to twist my mind. No, it must be the goblins, they surrounded me when I came here. It is only the most logical conclusion that it was them who twisted my mind to violence.
Whole lot of crazy speculation from Grandma Trinaday on why all her thoughts and actions are changing. But no mention of the contract she was fooled into signing? Odd for someone who seems as smart as she. Unless she can¡¯t say anything bad against the guild, or even mention the contract, that is. Second, I would say that Trinaday is not a violence person. When I read her writing, she actually has remarkable control over her emotions. I wonder if she isn¡¯t testing the limits of that second excerpt of the contract. Look at how she words what works to make her ¡°lose her temper¡± I bet she is changing how she thinks. Tweaking how she believes certain things relate to the guild. If it works, the provocation trips that clause that forces her to support the interests of the guild and she goes crazy and beats the life out of whoever says it. If that is actually true, this is a super cool way to test the limits of a soul contract without necessarily messing around in her soul in a way that could go sour. I bet the Adventurer''s Guild wouldn¡¯t agree though. She seems dead set on putting them on the beastkin side of a revolution. If she keeps that up I wonder if the guild will cut the contract and throw her under the bus instead of getting involved. .... Wait, no, that is exactly what she wants. Clever woman. Document 17: Civil Wrest No time for commentary, video soon. Do not trust the news. It wasn¡¯t our fault, we are safe. It¡¯s ironic that this is the document we were ready to release.
20th of Wein Today, things changed. I finally accepted Miss Alveticas invitation. I now realize that no matter how tired I was, this was something I needed to see. This is something I can help with, I have been far too passive in this new world. All great souls endeavor to change the world around them. Gordon always hated it when I rallied against that status quo. He would tell me now, that this is the best time to cut my losses, to run before I stake myself on another useless cross. I listened to him once, when he begged me not to keep suffering under misogynist fools, and quit working towards my doctorate. He was quite persuasive then, he offered to marry me. I don¡¯t plan on taking his advice now, alone here on Elentier. I miss Gordon. Miss Alvetica took me through the city, it was late at night, far after I had finished my community service for today. Even if this walk had been her only purpose in inviting me away from the academy it would still be worth the time. It reminded me that this other world could still be beautiful. I have not had a reason to see this city at night until now, that was a mistake. It is hard as an academic to remember that there is more to life than what can be found in books and data. I treasure moments like these. Ones that remind me that the solution to a problem will only come if you take the time to walk, and observe the places where you find yourself. There are no streetlights in Revena, they have no need for them. It is impossible to tell while the bright light of the sun dominates, but metal enchanted with the weave faintly glows. In the darkness of night, that soft light washes the city. Also absent here is the cigarette smoke and exhaust fumes that plagued the streets of Boston. Twisting the fabric of reality makes for a powerful deodorizer, the streets of Ravena smell however they wish them to. The bright streets, slowly shifting through the color spectrum as the natural weave stretches and groans around the enchantments, and the pleasant scents wafting about, should make for a comforting and beautiful space. As I followed Alvetica through those streets, I only felt half of that ideal. Beautiful they may be, comfortable they are not. The light fills all of the space, leaving no room for shadow. The smells out of place and unnatural. A part of the wonder of a city are those dark spaces, the disgusting and shady alleys, and the grit and grime that seems to stick to everything. Those spaces of filth that live in the shadows of some of humanity¡¯s greatest accomplishments always felt humbling. A physical reminder of what is thrown aside as we push to greater heights. To find a city without such things feels fundamentally wrong to me, It pushes me away as strongly as the people who live here. Miss Alvetica leads me far away from the academy. Through shopping high rises and past dozens of open storefronts, weaving in and out of buildings and over bridges at random, not a word of explanation. We got on and off the elevated hover tram, riding it for a few stops each time. I could not tell who Alvetcia was attempting to confuse, me or any potential ill intended classmates. Perhaps both. I would be lying to myself if I were to write that by this point I was unworried, if Alvetica abandoned me, there was little chance I could retrace my steps. Then we came to the edge of the city, now in view of the wall. Emerging from a long hallway of what I believe were apartments, a few floors and buildings away from the latest tram station. The walkway was the longest I had seen by far, ringing the buildings standing just inside the wall. Outside the wall, the lights of the city abruptly stop, leaving the landscape beyond black, an inky ocean. Only able to be filled by the imagination. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. The buildings here are not as tall as the ones that surround and house the academy and, maybe due to the darkness feet away, seem to shine less brightly. The walkway itself recedes out of sight in both directions, an echo of the wall below. We walk along it alone, the hustle and bustle of the city seems to have left us behind. I get the sense that if this were a city back on earth, I had just entered a dark back alley. In spite of the ever present light, I feel danger. That feeling seems to slip into my mind from the eerie liminal space that surrounds us as we walk along the curved bridge. For a moment, I would like nothing more to turn around and leave. Then the feeling passes as Alvetica stops to grab my hand and pull me along. Her touch seems to chase the emotion right out of my head. Sitting back in my room now, I wonder if that was more than just reassurance. But rather a woven precaution to ward away the unwelcome. We pass by a few more skyscrapers before turning into one, just as quiet as the rest - walking a good way inside. Alvetica stops at one door and knocks out an odd rhythm. The door swinging open moments later. We walk into a room that can only be described as a speakeasy, the feeling of a space meant to hold a group hidden from the law is another universal constant I have found. It could be the mood of the space, beastkin grouped up around tables and booths, hunched over quietly and passionately debating. It could have been the mug clutched in every member''s hand, or the cloud of smoke that lazily drifted in the air. But the room spoke to me, in it, I saw a group of people who sought freedom of choice. I respect that, autonomy is something I value as well. Miss Alvetica guides me down to a booth in the corner, I stand out here. Few in the room are human. I did not have time to see how many before being pulled down to my seat. I recognize a most of the beastkin sitting here from the group I had been guiding back at the academy. The few I don''t recognize glare across the table at me. Soon after I arrived, the conversations and quiet clink of glasses quiets down. An old woman stands up on a hidden stage in the opposite corner of the room, the lights overhead turning on to focus on her. Though old the woman was stood with strength, dominating the stage as her gaze pierced across the room. Her hair and the ears atop her head were a dignified gray-silver. The beastkin of that room called her the Gray Wolf. She spoke of revolution. I dare not write more on the ENT network. 26th of Wein I have gone with Alvetica to see the Gray Wolf speak three more times now. My mind is afire with plans and thoughts. If only I could share with these people stories from home. I want to help these people find their home within this country. They could learn from Dr. King, they too have a dream. Helping them is what real heroes would do, It is what adventures should do. I will try to talk with the Wolf next time I see her, Alvetica¡¯s advice be dammed. The academy has nothing for me, I have combed the library for all references, not a single mention of dimensional travel. There is little history in there at all, in fact. What is recorded before the ¡°Great War¡± is pitiful, nothing more than folk tales and fantasy. Despite the human historians¡¯ obvious bias, it would seem that I would be better off asking an elf on matters of lost magic. The few accounts of other Travelers before me are foreign as well, that at least is humbling. There are many more worlds out there then just the two I have seen. But still none who are recorded have gone home, all have died here in Elentier. I have not despaired yet, if the Weave can pull so many here to fill books and books of the library it can put one of them back. It must. Every new book I find, every new lead, has ended the same way. A dead end, a frustration, a defeat. There is little else to learn, what they have here to teach me in Weaving is less than I taught to myself about crochet on earth. I have listened in on higher level classes, it''s all route memorization and mnemonic tricks, I have no need of that. There is far more a doctor should memorize about the human body than there are woven patterns and stitches. I have added as much information to my ENT as I could get my hands on. If it''s crocheting and memorization that makes a great Weaver I can do so on my own. Without the indoctrination. 29th of Wein Last night I did it! I spoke with the Grey Wolf! Somehow she knew who I was. More than that, she knew where I was from. She knew I was a traveler. She had a planned to contact me before the Guild had whisked me away, but was too late. There is a beastkin adventuring team, Uliuns Swords, they saved me and the other adventurers back at the keep. With their help, I am able to share what I know from home. I am warned to write no more here. When next I add to this account, it will be with renewed freedom.
Document 18: Lies and Sorrow
¡ª ¡ª ¡ª BREAKING NEWS ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª A residence in Manitou Springs went up in an unexpected blaze early this morning. The hunting lodge deep in the folds of Pikes Peak could have sparked a serious forest fire if not for an anonymous call to the fire department. The owner of the hunting lodge, one Judy Jubrie, who had recently inherited the estate from the late Ulana Trinaday, is nowhere to be found. A statement from the police tells us that, ¡°No conclusive evidence has been found to indicate the start of the fire. But information on the location of the homeowner would be beneficial to discover the origin of the incident.¡± Anyone who has seen this girl is encouraged to call the police¡¯s anonymous tip line to help find her location. The question of what sparked the flames still remains, was this arson or accident? More at 11.
3rd of Yorn, 128 I was tricked, made a fool. I knew, I must have known, deep down¡­ somewhere. I let it happen. I let myself believe that what the Gray Wolf wanted was rights, justice, reform. I blinded myself to the truth. It was not a revolution she sought. It was a rebellion. Not rights, but blood. Her time came and I was cast aside. All of us were cast aside I thought I was the one playing them, using their movement to force the adventurers guild to break my contract. That at least was successful, I could feel the restrictions of my contract release a day ago. If it weren''t for my current situation, I would celebrate to be out from under the horror of that contract. I doubt it will do much good for me anymore. I am free, but hunted. There will be no joy for me. Not for a while. I fear what the Ravena Empire will do if I am caught. If the Adventurers Guild was free to lock away a part of my mind out of convenience, what can a greater empire do to me now? I have aided terrorists, I do not want to imagine what they could justify. Will they kill me¡­ or bind me, change me, by contract? I have people who are waiting for me back on Earth, I can not die here. Even more than that, I do not wish to be imprisoned inside of my mind. What happened? I do not want to think about two days ago¡­ I cannot think about two days ago. I let myself be led along for weeks and weeks, months as it would have been counted on Earth. I supported the beastkin, investigated things. Went to places they could not. I thought I had them fooled; I thought they valued me for different reasons, I did not imagine what they would do with the information I brought them. My status as a traveler was important to them, not because of the knowledge that I brought with me from home. No, I could ask the stupid questions, worm my way into places a beastkin would never be allowed to see. That was what made me important, a spy and nothing else. I can¡¯t write more, not now. 5th of Yorn, 128 I have been on the run with a stolen carriage, I have been lucky enough to find ways around the roads of Ravena using it. The days of travel and hiding have given me ample time to think and understand what happened at the capital. Today the rain is pouring down outside the cave I shelter in. There is nothing to do but write. I suppose I could practice magic, but all this weighs too heavily on my mind. Letting it sit there and ignoring it would be¡­ unhealthy. Weaving while distracted would be¡­ ill-advised. I think I will start with the things I was too angry, too hurt, to write two days ago. Alvetica is dead, as is Tommund, and Leafly; the whole group of beastkin I had been sheltering at the academy are no more. I blame the Gray Wolf for their deaths, either she is responsible or I am. Can I not escape from bringing misfortune? I sit still at the keep, people die. I try action at the academy, more death. I can¡¯t help but wonder if Jessica and Preston were caught up in my transfer to Elentier. Wonder if they are dead too. Are my children dead? This is too painful¡­ I need more time to think before I can write this. I will wait till this rain lets off and continue to flee. 6th of Yorn, 128 The rain continues unabated, The grassy plain beyond this cave has turned to marsh. Were I at any other camp, my carriage would have sunken into the ground. The downpour itself remains strong enough that I dare not risk traveling through it. There is safety in the stony floor of the cave. I cannot help but wonder if the rain is artificial, a weaving to halt me as I run. To pin me down and give the empire time to descend. There is not to do but wait. Wait and think. Think and write. The Gray Wolf''s plan seemed so innocent, so righteous at first. There was a festival to celebrate the First of Yorn, the time when the magic of the weave had reached its fullest point. A time when magic suffused the air and the strands of the weave are thick and malleable. The nobles and Emperor would convene on that day to greet the height of magic and to perform ceremonies to ensure that this time of Yorn would be long. It was one of the few occasions all the leaders of Ravena gathered together in one place. The plan was to march on the ceremonial chamber that day. To occupy the square outside and clog the doors with the beastkin of the capital. They would hold the world hostage and force them to listen. They would demand that their voice be heard. The Gray Wolf said she would engrave that day in history. I wish she had chosen to do it without chiseling so many names onto a headstone. I had a reason to believe that the day would be peaceful, it was what we had been working towards. At first when I spoke of the civil rights movement from home they listened. To the ideas of Martin Luther King, to why it was important to keep the movement righteous, to what it meant to be a part of a nation. I believe those ideas were even more important here than home, these beastkin had to prove not only were they equal to humans, but also that they were more than monsters. It was ugly, it was hard, it was brutal. Somehow it was also beautiful. Our worlds, Earth and Elenteir, mirrored each other. Small heroes imprisoned and beaten for the smallest crimes brought to light the beastkins status. People had no choice but to notice, to see. We scaled it up; we went from making martyrs from petty arrests and horrific beatings, to protesting establishments with rallies and protests. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. The most powerful tool we had was one I had never expected, the ENT network. Oh if only the King could have had access to a device in everyone''s pocket¡­ how many more people would he have reached? How many more hearts could he have changed? I saw the answer in the barest of slivers here. With the ENT network we could speak, for everyone everywhere, the beastkin would be heard, and they could not be silenced. I knew it worked, I could see the change happening slowly over the months. As I snuck and talked my way into the noble¡¯s parties and events, spying on them for the beastkin. I could hear them discussing the things we said. I watched and silently cheered as their minds slowly changed. They had gained a respect for the minds and hearts of the beaskin. I tried to show the Grey Wolf those things, I thought it made greatest case for my methods, proved they really worked. It had all been going so well, the beastkin gained hope as their controversy grew. People were talking. I even still believed that I could break off my contract with the adventures guild peacefully, putting them in an awkward if well-intentioned political situation- forcing them to disavow me. The Grey Wolf heard none of my words, none of the noise she had helped generate. I suppose she never wanted to listen. She had always had other plans. I was wrong, so wrong then. My belief that it would all work out so misplaced. I would become no peaceful political dissident that day, no shunned but public figure. I didn¡¯t know it, but the First of Yorn would be the day I became a terrorist. I am getting angry again, I am going to watch the rain. 7th of Yorn, 128 The rain still has not cleared, I am certain this is unnatural. If the water level rises too much farther it will start to flood the cave. I will have to make a choice of what I fear more, the water or the empire. While I think I will write. This is the last of what transpired on the First of Yorn. The day began, and it was no peaceful march. Instead of the grand movement through the streets I had expected, we snuck away. Skulking through the streets like a horde of rats. I had planned to make my position clear, to be clearly seen at the head of the march. When I protested, the Grey Wolf reassured me, she promised we would make more than enough of a stand. More than enough noise once we had gotten to the square. She just wanted to be sure we wouldn¡¯t be stopped before we got there. That was the first lie. When we made it to the courtyard it was unguarded, I found that suspicious and let the Wolf know as much. She reassured me that she had bribed the guard to take a little break. That was the second lie. She had had them killed before we arrived, she needed to keep me fooled. You see, I was a distraction. She needed me to keep up the front of a peaceful rally, a human on the beastkin¡¯s side, to keep the city guards and humans calm. She needed me to truly believe in what I was doing. So she told me that I should take the lead, reasoning that seeing a human in charge of the rally would be best. She told me that I was finally getting through to her. That she knew now was the time for her to take a back seat. That was the last lie. I should have known. What she really wanted to do was sneak into the ceremonial chamber and kill as many of the humans inside as she and Ulins Swords could before they were stopped. I wonder how many more times she lied to my face, I wonder how many of the beaskin that I trusted were lying to me. I will get no answers. There is no one left to ask¡­ So, unaware, I set up. We entrenched ourselves with weave enchanted shields, massive blocks of wood that glued themselves to the ground. I had helped with a few, once the upperclassmen had taught me the pattern. If they wanted to move us, they would have to rip the flagstones out from the square. If that choice was made, I felt that the news and images we could release on the ENT network would be just as impactful as whatever extra time the protest could have lasted. A woven shield of air, maintained by several of us who went to the academy, was the last defense to set up; we would take turns keeping it going. I never got that chance. Then we were ready. We used weaving to amplify our voices, and the disaster began. It went well for a time, our voices, our demands rang across the city. The law men came and made some half-hearted attempts to get us to leave. They were woefully unprepared to handle a protest of this size. Soon we had drawn quite a crowd of watchers and listeners. Making it impossible for them to drag us out of the square without running over the human crowd. It was perfectly to plan. There were a few true dissenters, people who hated us gathered there in the press of humanity. But with so many people, I believed no reasonable group would try to incite violence. I knew I could handle an individual. Then the private armies arrived; I didn¡¯t hear them at first, not over the sounds of our protest. The only indication were the uniformed men running into the crowd from behind and trying to clear out a path. They were clothed in several different liveries for a few different nobles. I wasn¡¯t too concerned when I saw them. We were planning on keeping their lords and ladies inside the building till our demands were met. At that time, I had even been expecting to see them. Nothing could have prepared me for what followed. I would have told you that the events at Greenstone Keep had thoroughly inoculated me to violence. The First of Yorn taught me how much of a fool I was. Now, I believe that no one is ever really ready for true violence. At least, no one should be. There are too many flavors to anticipate it all. On the First, violence was not the desperate struggle for survival between goblin and human. No, the violence that day was not for survival, it was for fear and hatred. For cruelty. They arrived in vehicles I can only describe as tanks. But unlike the treaded tanks of home, these hovered, and they were fast. They had no care for the people in the way, if anyone in the crowd hadn¡¯t moved the tanks turned them into a fine paste. Splattering them against our shield as they slammed into the barrier. One moment we were peacefully protesting, the next moment we were in the midst of a literal bloodbath. To say I was shocked doesn''t fit, I can not summon a word for it. In many ways, even days later, I¡¯m still shocked. People were dead because of me, again. I froze. Then the knights hit. They spilled out from the tanks. Anything with ears atop their heads or fur on their bodies was an enemy, and enemies were to be put down without questions. This was no fight, it was a slaughter. I stood stock still in the middle of it all, the screaming around me blending in with the screams still in my head from the keep. The knights ignored me, likely because I was human. As the knights pushed towards the doors, a few Beastkin revealed single use weave nets. Designed to be thrown, unraveling into a woven spell. Channel the Weave along the strands and unleash the spell, disintegrating the net. Fire, ice, acid, even vines consumed the square. The beastkin must have known that their spells would have caught the other protestors in front of them, killing whatever beastkin the knights hadn¡¯t yet. They must not have cared. They had been bent to the Grey Wolf¡¯s revolution, there to buy more time for the macabre task she had set to inside. That time and space must be bought. For whatever price in lives they paid. Worth it or not. The knights hesitated to push forwards, fearing more weave nets. I had to move. The still moment brought that thought to me with clarity. I saw Alvetica near me, a deep gash in her shoulder and badly burnt by a tongue of flame. I wanted to save her. The stillness was broken. Not by me. The doors we had barricaded creaked open. It was Ulin. Holding a severed head. He tossed it into the carnage. How odd such an impact that small bit of gore could have in the sea of the same. I do not know who it was, I could not think. I had to leave. As the knights bellowed in rage, I grabbed Alvetica and made a break for it. In the chaos, one of the tanks had been left unmanned. I don¡¯t know how I made it out of the city. As I tore through the streets, all I can remember are the soft wheezes of Alvetica as she died next to me. I needed to make it out of the city before I could treat her. I did not make it. I have lain her to rest deeper into the cave. I will have to leave her again soon. I am sorry.
Document 19: Fight or Flight VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The video begins in the dark with a pale face leaning forward, distorted by the camera. They have an arm reached out of frame, pressing the button to start recording. It¡¯s odd this part hasn¡¯t been edited out. The man in front of the camera is not one we have seen before, his cloak, however, is easy to recognize. For the first time the face of Tim is on record, uncomfortably large. As he sits back in the darkened room, he makes no attempts to hide his face, in fact he does the opposite. Taking care not to let the brown cowl fall over his eyes, and keeping his gaze locked into the camera¡¯s lens. It¡¯s as if he can see right through the frame. The panic in his eyes draws the audience in, his gaze pierces as if you are sitting in the room right across from him. If it weren¡¯t for those eyes any person would pass by Tim on the street, never remembering him. His brown hair is cut short and curly. His nose is a middling size. Not big enough to be noticeable, not small enough to be cute. His face is a tad bit rounder than you might expect, not cherubic but still round. If you were desperate, or maybe entranced by his style, he might have been cute, but without that attention he was just a guy. His eyes ruined that idea of normalcy. They were the wrong color- a deep magenta. The purple might have been something you could miss, or mistake for brown, if you had only seen them in passing. Here, fully framed in the camera, a single light shining on his face? Not a chance. His eyes were purple. He sits down on a camp chair, spotlit by a single light, as if he was about to give a monologue in a play. He runs a gloved hand over his face, checking his cowl one more time, he has to stop himself from instinctually pulling it down. Then he leans forward, clasping his gloved hands together and planting his forearms on his legs. He begins to speak, ¡°I need to start with this, I¡¯ve always believed in magic- No I should be clearer, I know that magic is real. Because of it we are in trouble, deeply in trouble. I can¡¯t imagine I¡¯m going to be able to edit what comes next, but we¡¯ll still have to make this into videos. I¡¯ll just roughly cut them together. We have poked the bear, and it''s about to rip our faces off. Judy, you don¡¯t know. Fumushu, you can''t even imagine what''s about to happen¡­. I can. I do¡­ It terrifies me.¡± His hands stop wringing and tighten together, the creak of the leather gloves can be faintly heard. ¡°Let me explain a few things, to you guys, and also to the Jujubees. I¡­ know I absolutely went off the deep end in the video I commented on this week. A lot of people were confused, but, more people reached out to help. Thank you. The choice I had to make was very real, and¡­ not easy. I listened to what people said in the comments and chose the option that will let me sleep at night. You all are horribly cliche, but still right. So, I did. I chose Judy, I chose to keep her safe. The other choice was to listen to orders, to listen to an organization called the MWF.¡± Two voices speak up tiredly from behind the camera, the loudest is amused, and surprisingly deep and raspy for the small girl it belongs to, ¡°Wait, that''s why you wouldn¡¯t let us watch the video? Because you got sappy?¡± Fumushu¡¯s morning voice is surprisingly nice to listen to. ¡°Shh, Tim said he wanted to get the whole story out before we commented on it. If we are commenting though; Thumbs down for taking back the ¡®magics not real¡¯ thing now that Fumu proved you wrong... Not cool. Booo¡± Judy sounds equally tired, though her morning rasp is not nearly as satisfying as Fumushu¡¯s. Tim ignores the twos¡¯ outburst, continuing where he left off, ¡°MWF stands for the multiple worlds foundation, Judy¡¯s grandmother started it. It was supposed to shelter people who suffered like she did, people who were isekaied and made it back, Returners, they call them. It uhm¡­ doesn¡¯t do that anymore.¡± Tim looks down shamefaced, ¡°Not all worlds were as kind as Elenteir, hard as that is to believe. A fair few of them were hostile to all life that wasn¡¯t¡­ native. Once Ulana Trinaday had gathered enough members, the foundation¡¯s purpose almost completely reversed. All of a sudden, it went from making sure people could make it back safely, to preventing anyone from crossing dimensions at all. Ulana was not happy about that, so they kicked her out.¡± Tim shrugs and finally looks back to the camera, ¡°The MWF turned into¡­ how to put this? The magic police?¡± He untangles a gloved hand, raises it and flicks a finger, a little lick of flame ignites like a candle above it. He looks at the flame and continues talking, ¡°They determined what magic was safe and who could have it. I''m an Acolyte in MWF, not really important but a step above a novitiate. As you climbed in ranks, they tell you more about the foundation and trust you with more magic. Most of us don¡¯t really know what''s going on, sometimes we joke we¡¯re like grunts for team rocket. Even have a friend of mine who quit after some ten-year-old almost killed him." He refocuses, "The MWF does have a point, Returners are dangerous to themselves and everyone around them.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. He makes a fist extinguishing the flame, then looks back into the camera. His panic has faded a bit, now he looks more guilty, his piercing magenta gaze has softened. ¡°I just wish they were kinder when dealing with them. I¡¯m glad that wasn¡¯t my job. They asked me to keep an eye on you, Judy. I thought they wanted to keep you safe. It fit the reason I joined the MWF. To keep people here on earth, to keep them safe. I had a little brother¡­ ¡° He shakes his head, ¡°That''s another story, what you need to know is that I was wrong.¡± Tims gaze sharpens, ¡°They didn''t want you safe, they wanted to make sure you never became the threat your grandma was. Ensure you were happy, distracted- kept away from the magic at all costs. A few weeks ago, right when you inherited the lodge, I got the order. Stop you at any cost. Your grandma¡¯s dangerous ideas about magic and multiversal travel should ¡®in no way be shared¡¯. I asked for clarification, they were very explicit in what that meant. ¡®At any cost¡¯.¡± Tim looks away again, leaving that statement clouding the air. ¡°Tim what the *Beep*?¡± Judy¡¯s voice, tired and confused, rings out, the volume at odds with Tims quiet shameful speech. ¡°I¡¯m glad you''re telling me this but It¡¯s four in the morning, couldn¡¯t this have waited? Let me wake up before you drop world shattering information?¡± ¡°Wait. Wait. Tim, the multiple worlds people wanted you to, what?... kill Judy?¡± Fumushu¡¯s rumbly voice is dead serious, scarily so. Tim stands up and circles around the cardboard table behind him, the one light casting it into an ominous mix of shadows and light, highlighting two black duffle bags sitting on top of it. He takes his time, not showing his face to the camera. When he finally does make it to the other side of the table, he slowly grabs one of the bags and pulls it towards him. The look on his face makes it obvious he doesn''t want to answer the two girls¡¯ questions. ¡°Fumu¡­ I¡¯d rather go skydiving without a parachute than hurt Judy. But¡­ I saw no way to do it all. To get Judy to be satisfied with what she¡¯d found and get the MWF off my back about what they were afraid Judy was going to discover. They were too afraid of what ¡®Jujubee'' could release to the world.¡± He slowly unzips the bag, ¡°So I¡¯ve been hiding some things, things I think now¡­ we might need.¡± Inside the bag is a mess of items, most of them have intricate fractal patterns engraved on every inch. A few of the items tickle the same space in the back of the brain that the magic detector Judy had stabbed herself with earlier. All of those things rest on heaps of papers and books, stacked neatly in the bottom of the bag. ¡°One of my friends in the MWF just sent me a warning. The Herald is coming. We have a choice to make. Run or fight.¡± Tim grimaces, ¡°I suggest we run, the guy who''s on his way is bad news.¡± ¡°What the actual F*ck? Tim. You''re going to wake me up at 4 am, Tell me every single interaction we have ever had is a LIE. THEN TELL ME WE NEED TO FIGHT SOMEONE? WHAT THE H*LL, TIM!¡± Judy''s voice just gets louder and louder. Then she walks into frame, and we can see her shaking in rage. ¡°WHY DON''T I TELL YOU WHAT I THINK ABOUT-¡± As she closes the distance between them Tim yells over her, ¡°IF YOU DON¡¯T LISTEN TO ME, THEY¡¯RE GOING TO KILL YOU.¡± Him yelling back at her doesn¡¯t halt her advance; he tries to hold his ground, but she won¡¯t be stopped. "OH LIKE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DO?" She isn''t listening. She pulls back a tightly balled fist, he cringes away. She clocks him. Then leans over intelligibly screaming, her shadow looming in the spotlight as she punches and kicks him. Fumushu rushes onto frame then stops on the other side of the table, cringing away from the two and holding out her hands like she could pull them apart with her mind. Her mouth moves underneath her bucket hat but whatever she was trying to say was far too quiet to be caught on video. The video cuts. There is no transition, just a cold, hard, jump from one frame to another. It''s jarring and bad editing, but who could blame the editor? He¡¯s currently on the far end of the box round table, nursing a bruised and battered body, an ice pack held to his head, hood down around his shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m not sorry, I won''t apologize. Why don¡¯t you explain one more time how you got me into this sh*t?¡± Judy is sitting on the other side of the table, arms crossed- sitting up ramrod straight. She is tilted away from the camera, facing towards Tim. She won¡¯t look directly at him. Tim sounds tired and defeated, ¡°We need to run away-¡± ¡®I¡¯m not leaving grandma''s house.¡± Judy leans forward and cuts him off her hands clenching around her arms, nails digging in. Tim cringes away, ¡°You don¡¯t have a choice, staying here would be a really bad idea.¡± Judy won¡¯t relent, ¡°You said it yourself; run, or fight. What if I want to fight?¡± Tim can''t get any smaller, ¡°You¡¯ll die. They are sending a guy they call the Herald of the End. He¡¯s on the Council. Imagine Gandalf then make him, like, twice as strong¡­ or more.¡± Judy just glares just above Tim¡¯s head as he tries his best to cringe away from her rage. He¡¯s got nowhere to go. She waits long enough for him to start shaking a bit before speaking again. ¡°Fine, how long do we have?¡± Judy looks away. ¡°An hour now, maybe two. My guy said, ¡®before the sun rises¡¯.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll get packed, I¡¯m going to assume that second bag is your stuff. Actually, I don''t care. If you so much as twitch from there before I¡¯m done, me and Fumu are going to tie you down and leave you here; so your ¡®Herald¡¯, or whatever, can deal with you. Do you understand me?¡± Tim emphatically nods. As Judy goes to stand up, he flinches so hard he almost falls off his camp chair. >>>PAUSE<<< Document 20: Cold Dawn >>>Play<<< ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another harsh cut jumps to the spy camera view of the main room. The team standing at the cardboard round table, bags in hand. Much smaller in frame than the previous shot. Tim sits distanced from the two girls, battered and bruised, still in the same seat Judy warned him not to leave. The overhead light is on but without the sunlight the room isn¡¯t welcoming, the clutter now just seems to get in the team''s way. Shadows from the bright overhead light make the boxes sharp and jagged. The stuffed heads leer down at the center of the room, and the mounted weapons glimmer dangerously. There no longer seems to be secrets in this place, only sharp shadows and dangerous clutter. ¡°Well, Tim?¡± Judy tone throws out his name like a blade, he flinches back, ¡°We packed. What''s next? Where to?¡± He just looks down and mutters, ¡°I uhm¡­ didn¡¯t plan that far.¡± ¡°WHAT-?¡± Judy takes a threatening step towards Tim. Fumushu catches Judy¡¯s shoulder before she can take another. ¡°No, Judy. I get it. Tim¡¯s a scumbag, the whole time you¡¯ve known him he¡¯s been lying to you. But he¡¯s trying, when it comes down to it, he¡¯s doing the right thing¡± Fumushu¡¯s voice of reason is timid and shaky¨C afraid of more violence, instead of reassuring. ¡°Plus, now is not the time. We should go.¡± Judy gently pushes off Fumushu¡¯s hand, ¡°I know we need to leave Fumu¡­ But where? Where can we go? We don''t even know who¡¯s after us. How can we run away if we don¡¯t know what to run away from?¡± She is frustrated, tired, and angry, but stands strong. ¡°Wait¡­ How can we run away if we don¡¯t know who''s after us! I have an idea.¡± Judy pushes off the tiredness and anger, then smiles, ¡°I hate to say this. Tim, I¡¯m going to give you another chance. We¡¯ll need your help.¡± Judy looks energized now that she finally has a problem to set herself against, a puzzle to solve. Tim looks up, his expression losing some of the fear, and a little hope bleeding into his eyes. Jujubee is on the case. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another hard cut: now the three of them are crouching somewhere outside. In an evergreen grove just off an old dirt trail high in the mountain¨C wrapped up in coats and hats. Despite the summer season, the high altitude lends the night an extra chill. It is still dark, but the sun has begun to light up the tips of the mountains behind them. The line of dawn, slowly and visibly creeps towards the YouTubers. ¡°Guys, If we want to make all this into a video, we should explain the plan again for the viewers.¡± Fumushu peeks out from a bundle of winter clothes, ¡°I can do it while you finish setting up, stop me if I get a part wrong.¡± Tim frowns, ¡°We can still just leave, run. Go anywhere else. This is a terrible idea.¡± Judy waves a hand at the two of them, ¡°No. Go ahead, Fumu, Tim''s no help. I need to see what I¡¯ve been dragged into.¡± Fumushu nods and wiggles closer to the camera recording them, finding a comfy place to sit and begins speaking quickly; she''s so wrapped up in the excitement and tension it seems, for this moment, she forgets that there¡¯s not going to be an AI filter to put her voice through. Her unedited voice is odd, but charming, it has just the right timbre and rumble to it. It¡¯s pleasant to listen to. ¡°Ok, Jujubees, here we go. Someone from the MWF is going to be coming here soon, Tim thinks he knows who it will be. Some dude named Harold of the End. You¡¯d think he¡¯d change his first name with a bad-*Beep* nickname like ¡®of the End¡¯, I mean Harold, seriously-¡± Tim cuts her off, ¡°Not Harold. Herald, like messenger. Messenger of the End.¡± Fumushu looks satisfied to be messing with Tim again, though there is an extra edge to the back and forth that wasn¡¯t there before, ¡°Ohhh, That fits. Oops. Anyway, Juju wants to get a good look at this guy. You know, see what he¡¯s up to, how he reacts when he can¡¯t find us.¡± ¡°So Tim connected his phone to the cameras in the house and did a bit of wizardry-Sorry tech wizardry, not real wizardry- to get some extra distance before connection breaks. I can¡¯t get over how weird it is that Tim is a real wizard.¡± Judy comments without looking up from the long distance camera. ¡° Yeah, weird. If he wasn¡¯t such a lying bastard, it might have been cool.¡± Fumushu spreads her jacketed arms to show off the clearing, trying to save the mood. ¡°And now there is nothing to do but sit and wait for the MWF to arrive! Did I miss anything?¡± Tim hasn¡¯t been paying attention, so he doesn¡¯t defend himself. For good reason too, he¡¯s been working hard; Doing the signal dance, tapping away on his phone and waving it in the air, around the clearing, ¡°I¡¯ve got it, finally. Connection is crud, but I¡¯m not getting any closer, we¡¯ll get a look at him. Not a good one but a look. Might drop a few frames, though.¡± The screen splits into three parts, like a multiplayer game. Two videos taking up the top half of the screen, one spreading across the bottom. There is some semblance of editing here, a white border separates the split screens and the transition to them wasn¡¯t entirely neglected. It¡¯s likely Tim spent the most time on this section in post. The splitting view pulls the current video into just the top left side of the screen. On it Judy fidgets with the long lensed camera and a tripod, the other two watch. Fumu, warm and bundled up close to the camera frame, and Tim perched on a branch holding out his phone. He controls the top right side of our screen, now showing a familiar room in grainy night vision. The video quality is even worse than before, fuzzy and stuttering. The main area of the lodge is quiet and dark, but like the slow dawn on the mountain, it may not remain that way for long. ¡°Nice, I¡¯m getting a nice view of the lodge from here too,¡± Judy is still perfecting the framing of the camera, ¡°Wish we had some more light to see by, though. Image quality isn¡¯t great.¡± The view from Judy¡¯s camera has been edited to fill the bottom of the screen. All is dark and quiet on the outside of the lodge. The camera is struggling with the low light and high zoom, but is much easier on the eyes than Tim¡¯s spyware. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The view of the lodge itself is disappointing, just a normal mountain cabin. Big logs make up its outer walls, and the roof is a bright red corrugated metal, slanted and reinforced to withstand the heavy snows of winter. A few solar panels are set up on the roof, though they can''t be getting much sun this deep into the valley, pointed towards the mountain. It seems odd that an unassuming building would hold secrets about magic and other worlds. One would expect a building with secrets like that to be entirely different. A grand castle, or if it must be a cabin, surrounded by huge circles of mushrooms, impossibly tall trees, and shimmering cascading waterfalls. Real life is rarely so poetic, often the buildings hiding great secrets blend right in. Just log cabins in the woods surrounded with evergreens and aspens, a quiet place. All of a sudden the view sharpens, the cabin coming into a shadowy clarity in the predawn light, the slight tilt added to the view gives the cabin a more eerie and ethereal mood. The high angle and still trees leave the impression that the cabin is almost¡­ waiting for something. An end, perhaps. ¡°*Beep* yeah!¡± Judy steps away from the camera, careful not to jostle it, ¡°Perfect shot, love it when I get it right.¡± She does a little fist pump. Then turns to grab a camp chair and sit it up next to Fumushu. ¡°Oh joy! Time to sit and wait. Anyone want to take turns holding my phone?¡± Tim looks sullenly at Judy and Fumushu. ¡°Nope.¡± responds the two girls. >>> 2X Speed <<< The three wait, only moving to take off outer layers as the day quickly warms, the sun coming down the mountain. Then, right before the sun can reach the camp, Tim shouts. >>> Normal Speed <<< ¡°I¡¯ve got someone on the cameras!¡± He¡¯s leaning up to his phone, frantically tapping at something. The left side of the screen rapidly switches through cameras to get the best view of the figure now in the house. ¡°WHAT? But nobody¡¯s come up the drive?¡± Fumushu leans over to Judy, ¡°Juju, have you seen anyone in the long distance shot?¡± Judy chews at a lip, ¡°Nope,¡± She gets up and walks over to Tim, ¡°budge over. Do you recognize this guy? Is it Harold? Any idea how he got in the house?¡± Fumushu steps up on the other side of Tim, ¡°Ooh, can he teleport, or something?¡± ¡°No, but good guess. He can¡¯t teleport, but someone else in the MWF can. I¡¯d bet she ported him in.¡± Tim grabs onto the tree, needing some more support, the two girls pushing at him to get a better view of the phone,¡° Stop pushing, I don¡¯t want to risk moving and dropping the signal now that he¡¯s there. If he finds us, I¡¯d like the chance to try and run.¡± Tim¡¯s face has been drained of color, he recognizes the person on the screen. He¡¯s afraid of him. The figure is tall and slender, though it''s hard to tell how big he is through the robe he wears; the shape of his long robes and wide flared sleeves are all that can be made out. The robes cinch tight around his waist, tied there by a sash, surprisingly thin for the wide flared shoulder pads of the robe. The mess of pixels decorating the robes close clearly indicate that they have several ornate patterns across them, but the specifics are ruined by the low quality. The man''s features are also very hard to make out in the granny camera, his face turned into a messy blob of tan with a few splotches of color for his eyes and mouth. ¡°He looks like he¡¯s cosplaying some wuxia guy for a convention, or like he just walked out of a Chinese Ren Fair.¡± Fumushu snorts, ¡°Are his robes glowing? I can¡¯t tell with the camera.¡± ¡°I would think you¡¯d be a bit more careful of who you make fun of.¡± Tim gestures to his phone with his free hand,¡° If Granny Trinaday got sent to a fantasy world, where do you think he ended up?¡± As he says this, the man on the camera rips one of the bedroom doors off its hinges backwards through the frame, revealing a dresser pulled in front of the door supposedly barricading the room. ¡°Hmm, that was a good idea Fumu, glad you insisted on it.¡± The forced cheer in Tim¡¯s voice is obvious. The two girls are silent as the man continues to literally tear through the house looking for them, ripping through drywall and framing with little distinction. His feet seem to glide across the floor as he moves, the clutter appearing to almost bend out of his way, as if his will warps the space he moves through. Soon he realizes his search is futile, and settles down in the middle of the lodge''s great room. He sits cross-legged, his eyes closed, his feet naturally falling on top of his knees, his hands meeting in some odd shape at his chest, the camera''s quality not clear enough to make it out. The air warps around him, his closed eyes and clothes begin to glow with power. Tim panics.¡°*Beep* nobody move, think dead thoughts, this could be anything. But I¡¯d bet he''s about to try to find us.¡± ¡°We¡¯re far enough away.¡± Reassures Judy. ¡°I hope so.¡± Fumushu responds. Then a wave of white power and distorted air rushes away from the figure, his robe slumps off his shoulders and writhing glowing tattoos can be seen etched across his body. Dragons, the eastern kind, great scaled wyrms twisting across his shoulders; trapped in magic and ink. The camera doesn¡¯t pick up that detail, instead it is felt. The symbology resonates in the same space the Weave does, right in the back of your head. The wave moves from the view of the spy cameras on the left, and rushes out to the view of the camera pointed at the lodge, at the bottom of the video. It continues out from the house for a few moments, a ring of light brighter than the dawning line of the sun. Then about seventy-five feet away from the walls of the house it begins to break apart, sections streaming out around rocks and trees radiating out from the lodge like god rays shining between the leaves of a forest. The waves move through the viewpoint again, now up into the top right, where the YouTubers have made their camp. It has already split before their clearing, the light streaming around them¨C blowing a gust of wind through their hair and unzipped jackets. The wave only took a few seconds to complete its clockwise journey around the screen. ¡°Tim, the *Beep* was that?¡± Judy whispers. Tim is equally quiet, ¡°I don''t know, this is why we should¡¯ve run.¡± Fumuhsu is the last to speak, ¡°I think it missed.¡± They sit there bunched together watching the phone, barely breathing. The man on the other end keeps glowing, but he opens his eyes, he reaches into his pocket and grabs a phone. Carefully, he presses a few things on the screen, then sets his phone down in front of him. His eyes close again and the glow ramps up. Fumushu points out toward the lodge. ¡°What is that? He¡¯s got more?¡± A ring of red light has surrounded the building. If someone were to carefully observe the footage, they might notice that the ring is not actually there, it does not reflect in the lodge¡¯s windows and casts no red hue onto the foliage near it. It only exists in that instinctual space of the mind left for magic. Sigils and symbolism spill towards the man, unmoving in his meditation. The formation draws upon deep knowledge of magic and an instinctual feel for the laws of nature. A glance at the work being drawn in the air would tell the observer about fire and smoke, heat and destruction, wrath and ruin. A longer stare would drive a mortal mind insane, these concepts are not meant to be understood in so small a lifetime. It is likely your ability to see magic might break before your mind, however, leaving you fully isolated from any magical art. In some worlds, that would be a fate worse than death. The formation draws to a close, drawing another circle a foot around the meditating man. The lodge erupts in flames. It burns for a few seconds, the heat so high that Judy, Tim, and Fumushu can''t help but close their eyes and stumble back. By the time their eyes open, the lodge and anything else inside the formation is a uniform pile of ash. Not melted, Not scorched. All a fine ash. It slowly floats toward the ground like a twisted black snow. The man is gone. In the long distance camera, still recording he could be seen standing up for a few seconds, not a burn on his body, his clothes still intact. A flash of light and he vanishes, barely disturbing the ash drifting down from the sky. ¡°Holy *Beep*!¡± Fumushu stares stunned. ¡°Yup, we should be dead.¡± Tim seems surprised not to be. ¡°I need to call the fire department.¡± Judy¡¯s face has the least shock. Instead, she looks at the ashes of her grandma''s lodge, grim and serious. Jujubee is on the case. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Document 21: Public Outcry
Jujubee?? July 7: 13:00 ??Pinned by creator Hello Everybody! I want to be very clear, as we were quite rushed when making this video. This video is not staged, no part of the events my team and I caught on camera were fabricated or edited for anything other than language and viewability. The danger is very real, and we are very much on the run from people who likely would like us dead. I don''t plan on dropping this case, no matter who comes after me. I understand that this seems impossible and fantastical, but I feel as if that has always been the point of my channel. To capture the mysterious and unsolvable, then present it for you all to understand. The mysteries that always interested me as a kid were the missing persons cases that ended with ''they just disappeared, like magic''. That, and the ones with pages and pages of speculation from the police describing a supernatural event. Pages of crackpot science and speculation that just ends with ''we don''t know''. I have the fondest memories of my grandma showing me newspaper clippings and the two of us coming up with stories and fantasy to explain it all. We would stay up long past my bedtime, explanations getting crazier and crazier I wanted to bring that to you, I have always felt blessed that so many people are interested in what I have to say. Real magic is a new hat for me, though, and I am way out of my depth. I hope you all keep watching, this will be the most danger I have been in yet. I need you all here. It''s funny, it''s wizards, I always thought the most dangerous thing I would do was piss off some cartel. I have a video for that specific instance ready to go, sitting on my laptop, I schedule It to release when ever I go somewhere dangerous. I fill in the script with the name of the organization and the details of what I was investigating. Just in case I don''t come back. I never could have been ready for this, though. What would I even say? I''ve been taken or killed by the secret wizard society for the crime of investigating magic. Please find a way to avenge my death? The whole script would turn into a joke. I can''t tell you where we are going or what my plan is, the MWF is surely watching. Rest easy, we have a solid plan, I know some people who can keep us safe. Even if the MWF tries to get the government involved. Harold has got to be punching air right now. I plan to stick it to him and the whole foundation. You were this close buddy, then you whiffed it. Good luck finding us now. We are going to show everyone we can the magic side of our normal world. It seems like that was what my Grandma wanted, It also seems like that''s what you all at MWF were trying to stop me from doing. If that''s what You are afraid of, then that''s my new life goal. See what happens when you burn down my inheritance. Bastards. We will be doing our best to stay safe, if anything crazy happens I''ll post the news articles along with the investigation into my grandmas journey in Elenteir. That''s right people, you can try to take me out, but the Jujubees are still on the case. If you want to stop this hivemind, you''ll have to get the queen first. A big thank you to all the people helping me out on Discord and Reddit, the team may be on the run but due to your guy''s help we plan to keep to the schedule. See you next week! Screw the MWF. Read less [Like] 1.2M [Dislike] [Comment] 2.7K Replies ^
Beesuportive?? July 7: 13:01 This is insane Juju... I''m here to support you. I always said that I would try to help if you get in trouble. I don''t live in the US but I''m cheering for you! I never thought you would get in troble with wizards either though. [Like] 624K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
OPrimeBOT97 July 7: 13:01 This is the greatest video series I have ever seen on YouTube, I don''t care if its real give me more. The effects are bonkers. [Like] 30K [Dislike] [Comment]
JJ-ZOPzee July 7: 13:05 @OPrimeBOT97 What teh hell dude? h omegirl almost got rosted by som wizard? wut are you talking about. [Like] 174K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
Wendy Welchem July 7: 13:20 I really don''t know if I want this to be real or not. It''s a hard decision. I don''t want to think Judy is lying to us, but I''ve seen YouTubers do worse for clout... I hope Judy is staying safe and I want magic to be real I dont like the way the Multiple Worlds Foundation seems to be using it. Its a lot to ask of us judy to believe you... Read more [Like] 78K [Dislike] [Comment]
SEND ME HATE July 7: 13:30 MY VIDEOS ARE MORE REAL THEN JUJUBEES I HOPE HER GRANDMA DIES IN A FIRE. I WANT YOUR HATE COMMENTS THEY FUEL MY AWSOME CONTENT. [Like] 2 [Dislike] [Comment]
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Somatic_Skeptic July 7: 14:06 (edited) This is getting out of hand. There is no way this is real, I mean come on, this shares more with an action movie then real life. I subscribed for real unsolved case content, I fully understood that not every case can have an answer and that the content is not often as exciting as seen on TV. But stooping this low? For what this channel was doing very well, I don''t see why the producers decided that this was a good direction to go in... Read more [Like] 74K [Dislike] [Comment] 5 Replies ^
Swigeity26r39 July 7: 14:20 Honestly i agree, i plan on seeing where this goes, but i am sad that this is what the channel is turning in to. If the quality wasn''t so good, i would be unsubscribing. This is not what i had originally subscribed to see. [Like] 70K [Dislike] [Comment]
Robin Dancer July 7: 15:08 (edited) @Somatic_Skeptic Fully wrong, first this is a YouTube channel there are no producers, Judy works by herself or other solo creators. She is very open about her process. Second, there is not edited content anywhere in this video, I''ve been working in editing for 10 years and watched it three times and found nothing. Third, the MWF is a real foundation Here is a link to their website, frustratingly vague on what they''re about aren''t they? If this was some kind of popularity stunt, Judy could absolutely done better. As for your insinuation that magic is stupid that house fire wants a word with you, if it''s not edited, which I proved. Explain that with physics. Read less [Like] 237K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
Somatic_Skeptic July 7: 19:46 You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. @Robin Dancer Believe what you want child, I''ve worked in video production far longer than you. Trust me, there has to be a producer. As for your ridiculous claim about the fire, that is clearly just editing. Even children know that metal melts, not turns into ash. [Like] 10K [Dislike] [Comment]
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Bonkdem July 7: 15:06 The real question I want to know is where is Judy going now? [Like] 308K [Dislike] [Comment] ?? 30 Replies ^
Swigeity26r39 July 7: 15:37 Ohio, Brazil or Hell. ?? [Like] 192K [Dislike] [Comment]
I.PowerFyeah July 7: 16:14 I dont think they actualy have a plan i bet they are just runing and its all deception [Like] 13K [Dislike] [Comment]
Grilbossy9340 July 7: 16:41 Does Judy have any family that''s actually good? She have to go and hide with family anyway. [Like] 125K [Dislike] [Comment]
7PTomorowsDENT7P July 7: 17:23 Anybody remember the fourth person that Judy was Talking about, the mystery one? could they help? [Like] 58K [Dislike] [Comment]
Kent prenger63189 July 7: 17:23 I bet she goes to the Government for asylum [Like] 48K [Dislike] [Comment]
g-dChildPsalm23:1 July 7: 17:47 @Kent prenger63189 No, She should go to the church. [Like] 66K [Dislike] [Comment]
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2Bouncycheek2 July 7: 23:31 Maybe the real magic is all the friends we made along the way [Like] 3.1K [Dislike] [Comment]
_Zordofdorkness_ July 8: 9:01 New magic!!! New magic!!! Did you see the robe guy did you feel that what was that????? everything went poof and burnt????? and the symbol made my eyes hurt :( his tattoos were cool magic too i want dragons!!! or maybe a unicorn or pegasus that moves [Like] 173K [Dislike] [Comment] 100 Replies ^
xc45vceVGF July 8: 10:23 I don''t like the magic it makes my head feel weird, i had to take a nap after watching this. The symbol said something about fire and stuff, then I got a migraine. Magic seems dangerous. [Like] 154K [Dislike] [Comment]
DiososaurMN July 8: 10:23 My older brother tried to copy the fire thing and he started bleeding from his eyes. Mom and dad say i cant watch juju anymore. [Like] 47K [Dislike] [Comment]
Foxskinter6734 July 8: 10:26 Whats more intersting to me is that way less people are debating magic now. I want Judy to Show us more! [Like] 97K [Dislike] [Comment]
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Yakysackydoo3 July 8: 8:26 Screw Harold. [Like] 429K [Dislike] [Comment] ?? 15 Replies >
Beeling23346 July 9: 3:22 Stay safe Judy! [Like] 429K [Dislike] [Comment] ?? 4 Replies >
Gunter Jonson July 9: 3:22 Ulana Trindaday is a strong woman. I have been so impressed with her journals. I am glad they will still be coming out. [Like] 4K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
FumuFan<3 July 10: 13:06 AHHHHHHH!!!!!! FUMUSHU DONT DIE YOUR VOICE AND ART ARE TOO GOOD [Like] 190K [Dislike] [Comment] ?? 4 Replies ^
FumuCLIPS July 10: 13:07 I''m gonna make a AI for her voice and use it to redub clips its too good [Like] 34K [Dislike] [Comment]
Passer?? July 10: 14:14 I dunno if she would want that I think you shoudnt [Like] 68K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
FumuFan<3 July 10: 15:14 We are just blessed to get all this IRL Fumushu stuff, she dosn''t post enough on her main. I wanna see her do action star stuff! She''s too cute in her winter coat. [Like] 30K [Dislike] [Comment] ??
Wallishlegume July 8: 22:58 I''ve got to start bring popcorn to these [Like] 4.7K [Dislike] [Comment]
Courteny Vorren July 8: 22:58 According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don''t care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let''s shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Ba... Read more [Like] 267 [Dislike] [Comment] 1 Replies ^
wallartmeme July 9: 5:28 Bro stop this hasn''t been funny for years you do this on every video [Like] 6.9K [Dislike] [Comment]
WritTropes984 July 10: 19:14 (edited) I think it''s both funny and odd that Judy and her grandma are both, as far as we know, running away from something right now. It''s poetic in a worldly sense. I feel bad for both of them, running sucks. I would know. All I can hope is that the two of them can find a home, find some safety. I hope they don''t have to fight for that. Fighting like that changes a person. I would know. [Like] 892 [Dislike] [Comment]
Document 22: Arsons Weave
¡ª ¡ª ¡ª BREAKING NEWS ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Two news anchors in crisp suits sit on either end of a small curved table, a green screen behind them shows the quaint skyline of a local city. The studio is professionally lit, and the news anchors professionally smile into the camera. The woman on the left speaks first, ¡°This morning at 5:45 AM a terrible fire occurred in the small town of Manitou Springs. During the investigation, police came forward with a few shocking conclusions. We have brought in Doctor Ivanikitch, a demolitions expert, to tell us more about the arson.¡± The screen splits, an old wrinkled face can be seen sitting in an office in front of a bookcase, a few black and white pictures, and an old degree. The camera is tilted just far enough upwards to frame an entirely unflattering angle of the old man. The first anchor''s co-host adjusts his tie and speaks as the old man stares blankly into the screen, ¡°Dr Ivanikitch, you are live! What can you tell us about the Manitou lodge fire?¡± The man takes an uncomfortably long second before realizing he has to speak, He begins in a thick uncertain accent ¡°Ah yes, zee fire¡­ zee fire was fery, fery abnormal. Quite zee¡­ atypical¡­ burn. Vaht surprised me zee most was zee complete lack of molten debris. Vehn the¡­ natural fire burns zee metal in zee building it¡­ Ah! it melts. In zihs fire we see none of zat molten metal.¡± The two news anchors can barely understand the man. As he finishes speaking, you can see their blank stare into the camera. They are saved as the teleprompter rolls out the next question. The woman on the left suddenly comes alive to speak as prompted, ¡°Is that the reason why the police think this is arson? What''s your opinion on the matter, Doctor? Are the police just jumping to conclusions?¡± Another awkward pause, ¡°Ah yes, zee fire would have had to be¡­ premeditated. To fully¡­ fully carbonize zee building. It would have required zese specifically heated charges. Zee charges would have to be placed in very specific locations. To have zis effect.. zis is not natural or random.¡± As soon as the man finishes speaking, the other news anchor turns to the camera, ¡°As far as reporters and officers on the scene can tell, this mountain lodge was turned completely, nails roof and all, into ash. The only evidence of what went down that morning is in this video, released by the owner of the estate later that day. A word of warning, this video might have an adverse effect on some viewers, if you could be affected, please look away from the screen.¡± A familiar video of the lodge begins to play, starting right before the lodge goes up in flames, the formation slowly building in towards the lodge. Though oddly only two of the views are shown, Juju and her team, and the long view of the building. The third video of the security footage inside the lodge has been edited out. ¡°What an odd video, folks,¡± says the left news anchor, ¡°Do you have anything to add before we move on Dr. Ivanikitch?¡± The doctor is caught staring off into space again, ¡°Ah? Zee fideo? I vill say zat zere is no evidence zee fideo is¡­ reputable. I believe it is a¡­ fake. Yes! Fake. Zee fire should not look zat vay when recorded.¡± The right news anchor closes out the coverage, ¡°And there you have it, an arson for YouTube attention. An odd choice for the new owner of the estate, especially in a state where fire is always such a great risk. Public officials are still on the lookout for this woman, if anyone has information on her whereabouts, please call this number.¡± As he speaks, Judy''s face and name pop on to the green screen over the skyline, next to it is a phone number labeled ¡®information hotline¡¯. Then the video cuts to an advertisement.
Below is an audio file that was later compiled into the video the Jujubees team sent out. It has been transcribed here in a way that is easier to understand, ARSONIST???.mp3
Tim: I told you guys the MWF goes deep, look at that. They edit themselves out and get the media to get a full-time manhunt going. *Bang* *crash* * A loud crunch of a plastic water bottle being crushed* Judy: GAH! What the H*ll, how is this allowed? What does that Ivanic dude even know, ¡®Zee fido is fake¡¯ MY A**. I¡¯m an arsonist now? URRGG Fumu: Calm down, Judy! It¡¯ll be ok. When we get a chance, Tim and I can make some calls. I bet we both know some editing people who can get the word out there for us. I know a guy who¡¯s gonna make that old dude look more like a fool! Tim: FUMU! Christ, don''t turn around to glare at me. Eyes on the road! You''re going to get us all killed. Judy: Fine, we can toss this on the most recent documents going out. The one with the goblins. Jujubees if you are watching, I''d like you to ruin some peoples'' days. Fumu: Judy... you don''t really mean that...? Judy: ...
VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. This video opens on a familiar stone wall, gray and mossy, though this is quite a bit closer than we¡¯ve been before, the large grains of the rock and small feathery spines of moss can be seen as the camera slides out to the edge of the stones. Greenstone keep is not as dour in this recording as it previously has been, the sun is shining and there are no goblins dying. Goblins screams however are numerous and deafening. The goblin behind the camera appears to be hiding behind a ruined wall, his hand braced against the edge of the crumbling stones as he pushes the camera view around the corner. The camera peaks out, taking in an old weedy broken courtyard. The edges of the rocks here however are soft and smoothed, the trees are old and gnarled with parts of their bark worn and shiny. Goblin children run around shrieking and safe. Well, mostly safe. Many of the taller and older looking goblins brandish shiny bits of loot, swords and shields, maces and vambraces taken from the pile at the ceremony a few videos ago. As they run and frolic, it is hard to tell if they are playing or training. Here, a goblin chases a few others around, swinging a small dagger with a practiced ease. The goblins he chases run away with the speed and skills of a parkour athlete, he is a bit more careful and clumsy with his knife but follows with surprising ability. There, a goblin percussion band whales away at shiny pieces of metal armor. Any adventure would pale at the dents and gashes they create, but the goblins seem to be having fun. The percussionists switch out the ¡®sticks¡¯ they beat out their tune with every so often. Using huge branches, rocks, even another goblin¡¯s head in one unfortunate case. The ¡®music¡¯ they create is a wild cacophony barely following a beat, but plenty of other goblins stamp and dance along. Every so often, the goblin band stops and checks to see if they¡¯ve made more dents in the armor as they play. When they find one, they make sure to share what ¡®stick¡¯ they made it with. The goblin taking the video seems content to just sit and watch, hidden away. That doesn¡¯t happen, after a while of watching the goblins play around in the courtyard, the view is harshly jerked away. The camera flails around, then settles on the old goblin from the ceremony. The small goblin has clutched the camera to his chest, displaying the world as if someone was looking from his point of view. We get a much closer look at the old goblin now as he grabs the other arm of the camera-goblin and pulls him along. With the darkness gone and without the smoke, the goblin elder is a much less imposing figure. He is draped in a long sun bleached cloth like a toga, carefully wrapped around his bent torso. He limps along, relying on a smooth wooden walking stick. The walking stick is an old curtain rod, with one jagged snapped end and the other flared out into what might have once been a beautifully carved bulb of wood. Now the end of the rod, the paint long since gone and twisted beyond recognition, is a warped version of what might have been. The old goblin has jammed a sharp looking crystal into the center of the carved wood, making the thing into a decently effective club. The goblin elder only drops the camera-goblins arm once the two of them have gone far enough away from the others¨C the cacophonous noise dying down to barely a whisper. The two continue on through the square hallways of the keep, both walking with a confident stride despite the unsteady footing. The hallways are mostly dark, some even too dark for the camera to record a picture, It doesn''t seem to bother the goblins at all. Occasionally the hallways brighten up through a hole in the wall or ceiling, letting more of the dilapidated keep be seen. The place has been entirely destroyed, not a scrap of cloth to show where a carpet must have been and only a few splinters of wood to remind of old furniture. Deep gouges have been torn out of the stone in places, like the claw marks of giant beasts. Where the light shines'' moss grows, smoothing out and covering some of that old, sad, and damaged stone. Minutes of walking later, passing a few fully grown goblins. The pair come to a doorway where the light shines through a curtain of beads. The sun diffracting through the clear bits of crystal and glass is beautiful and calming in the dark halfway. The light swims about as if to invite the goblins in. The curtain makes a pleasant clinking noise as the camera-goblin pushes through it. In the center of the room are two plush stools with a low table between them below an open roof. This is the best preserved room we¡¯ve seen and if it is anything to go off, the keep must have been a sight to see at its peak. The tiny square was a courtyard for plants that needed to be protected by the shade, the walls of the keep rise high around letting in a cool shadowed light. Around the edges are empty stone planters, beautifully carved and designed to let the water flow out to the floor where other drains will carry it away. The square is tranquil and calm, its undamaged nature locking it away in time. The elder goblin points to one of the chairs and speaks in the screeching and clicking noises of the goblin language. He heads to one of the planters in the back of the room, rummaging around inside the stone container. The camera-goblin sets his camera carefully on the edge of one of the planters, circling around into frame to make sure the camera is set up properly and recording the full courtyard, one pupil in his eye focused on where the old goblin is, as he does so. Once satisfied, he quickly hurries to one of the stools, bringing his legs up to unsteadily sit cross-legged upon his perch. As he does so, the old goblin turns around holding what he was looking for, a carved wooden box. This is not aged and ruined like so many other things these goblins have. Instead, it is a more distinguished kind of old, and a more noble kind of worn. Leaves and flowers are carved across the box, the hinges are a tarnished bronze and the delicate clasp still holds it snugly closed. The old goblin sets down the box between the two goblins, then sits in the same cross-legged position the camera-goblin sat in. With his experience, it is no struggle to balance. In this view we can only see the back of the camera-goblin, the elder is across from him facing towards the camera. They close their eyes and take a few deep breaths together. Soon, around the elder, the Weave begins to manifest. Shifting, bright and sinuous, it¡¯s yarn threading itself all around him. He makes no effort to reach out to it, simply content to let the thread sit there visible and glowing, adding an ethereal light to the small space. It takes a much longer time for the Weave to be seen around the camera-goblin, but eventually a weak thread shimmers into view. This manifested Weave does not glow brightly, instead it is barely opaque enough to be seen, fading in and out. It seems like a ghost when compared to the elder a few feet away, paleing to him in every sense of the word. They sit there for some amount of time, how much would be hard to tell without the recording. The courtyard sits isolated from wind and light, unchanging. An ideal place for this meditation. Soon the elder uncrosses his legs, taking a moment to see the Weave manifestation of his student. He seems to like what he sees. That pleasant expression is schooled into a much more familiar and grumpy frown. He cracks his staff against the camera-goblins knee, startling him from his meditation. Making sure the young goblin is watching, the elder slowly opens the box on the table between them. Inside are dozens of small partitions, seeing this it''s obvious the box was originally a noble ladies'' jewelry chest. Now a much more valuable things lies inside the small sections, complex nets made of a fine silk. The Goblin elder carefully pulls out one of the nets and lays it carefully on a table. Taking a clean black cloth from inside the box, and arranging the silk into a careful orientation. Then he gets out two old and dirty lines of twine from his toga. He begins a lecture in goblin clicking and shrieking as he points at the net, careful not to disturb its knots and twists. He and the young goblin carefully tie their dirty twine, slowly recreating the knotted mess of the silken string in front of him. Slowly but surely the old goblin teaches his younger counterpart what little magic their people have learned. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Document 23: Illusion & Spectacle Hey all, Fumushu here! I get to introduce this one because I am no longer allowed to drive. Sorry if the audio is bad¡­ no time to get a good recording on the run. Juju was supposed to comment on this one while I drove, but she is not in the mood. The articles and stuff are uhh¡­ pretty painful to see. These last few days have been rough on all of us. Anyhoo, as we run away, so does grandma! She might be better at it, though. Take a look
8th of Yorn, 128 More days to run, more days to think. Think and run. Run and think. I made the decision to flee from the cave while the rain still poured down. I think it was a good one. A mile, maybe two, and I was out of the storm. It made me realize. I have been focusing on the wrong thing, while it is arguable that I carry some responsibility for what happened at the capital. There is no reason to project that out to the rest of my worries. My children are fine, and I will make it home to them. This thing is a small set-back, I have been freed from my contract and can continue my search for a way home. Just more names to remember. More people who died for me. I regret most that I must leave Alvetica¡¯s grave alone, her memorial tucked away and hidden. She deserves better, they all do. Curse that Grey Wolf. 9th of Yorn, 128 I risked a connection to the ENT network today. I need to know where I am. So I found a map, running with the carriage through old roads and empty grasslands can only get me so far. If I want to make it home, I will need to get away from human lands. I¡¯ll make for the Elvish forests. If human records contain no knowledge of dimensional travel, then the elves, and their long history, must. I wish I could remember more of the tome I studied at the fort. I wish I knew more about the elves. I hope they are not as horrible as the rest of the peoples I have meet here. I am hungry again, the pains of an empty belly remind me of that time. I wish what occurred there would haunt me less. I have been studying the Weave to distract myself. There are many patterns of weaving to study, but every resource on the topic suggest a mage choose a single one to specialize in. They split patterns into two schools of magic, the physical, and the conceptual. Physical patterns affect the world in solid and real ways; things like creating and manipulating elements, barriers, and enchantments. Conceptual patterns affect the unseen, the nebulous concept is highly ill-defined in what I¡¯ve read, but the complexity and specificity of mental weaving is unmatched. Due to circumstance, I have chosen a hybrid of the two disciplines: the pattern of illusion. It seems the ability to hide is what I need more than anything else. It is a shame that it precludes me from other studies. Who would not want to learn to throw a ball of fire? Illusion has quite a few perks, however. The pattern lets me chain together a patchwork quilt of woven squares, some mental to fool the senses, some physical to bend light and sound. The longer and larger the weave, the better the illusion. Most squares are the base or simplified weaves of proper spells from other schools. The same woven squares in miniature, a fool''s copy of the real thing, I suppose it still brings me closer to learning a bit of all magic. 10th of Yorn, 128 I have become quite proficient at a few illusions. I can conceal the sound of my carriage''s movement and, when still, turn a small area into a passable hill to hide my position in the open. These weavings take too much effort to keep up for more than a few hours, but they have already saved me more than once. Connecting to the ENT network was much more risky than I thought. The Empire quickly honed in on my position. The first warning was the rain returning. Then, as I practiced traveling while holding my silent illusion, I saw a patrol pass by on the road. If I hadn¡¯t been silent and a good few feet into the forest, I would have been caught. Thank goodness for the carriage wheels and the illusion of silence. The two have let me travel in places the Empire clearly does not expect. Not using the carriage¡¯s hovering has slowed me down, but today only confirmed my cautious approach. Even if I am spotted, it will take them time to follow me into the forest. I have sheltered in the back of another large cave for now, odd how easy these are to find on Elentier. If any patrols come across my hide-away, I am experimenting with several different illusions to hide me and the carriage. The randomness of trees and nature make it difficult, a rock face has shown much easier to deal with. I hope I will not need to use them.
I have been found! Worse than I thought! GOBLINS. If last entry they kill me. Can¡¯t write and illusion.
Oh no! Goblins! That¡¯s not great, I hope Grandma will be ok. I mean, we know she will be, but what happens next? I think you all could use some suspense! Don¡¯t worry, though, I¡¯m not going to completely cliff everyone. I''ll tell you what happens after this next bit. You see, I need to pause here to shout out the discord again. First, Juju¡¯s mods, you guys are killing it. Judy wants to apologize for all the extra work and media attention. She also wants to thank you for keeping the server running¨C despite all the crazies who¡¯ve been showing up. When this all is over, she will have to find a way to give back to you guys for being so awesome. Having some people who are on her side has been doing loads to help. The other person who needs a shoutout from the discord is one LordWaffles. Who somehow, I dunno how, has been translating goblin. The Jujubees on the discord are a crazy hivemind. It¡¯s not perfect or even very good yet, but the fact someone even realized it''s possible blows my mind! So take a look at this video and learn a bit more about goblins. Then we¡¯ll see what grandma does with the goblins in her cave. VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª The video begins inside the previously active and playful courtyard in Greenstone Keep. The gray sky is back, and it is either drizzling or incredibly foggy. There isn¡¯t any rain yet, but the camera-goblin occasionally has to wipe drops of water from the lens. The goblin children are huddled together, not in the corners of the courtyard where a small stone veranda and a few trees offer shelter from the rain, but instead in the center of the area. The larger and older goblins sit in the middle with the younger ones around them, watching closely. Only the camera-goblin stands apart, watching them all. As the goblins sit still, text appears at the bottom of the screen. Hewo LordWaffles here! This is how the subtitles are gonna go! If you see this ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ That means there¡¯s bunches of words we don''t know! If I use this ____ It means we skipped one or possibly two words! Translation is suuuper scuffed rn so pls be patient! ^owo^7 The text fades, and the goblins sit in silence for a while longer. The rain isn¡¯t loud enough to fill the claustrophobic silence, and the whispers of the wind are too sporadic to calm the tension of the bunch. Then one of the older goblins collapses, his eyes snapping shut, letting out a gasp that echos through the quiet courtyard. He falls out towards the outer ring. The younger goblins catch him and hold him down. He begins violently seizing. The rest of the goblins watch the tension thickening and the rain beginning to fall more heavily. Two more goblins fall. After a while, the first goblin stops violently shaking and is let go. He lies there on the ground, his eyes closed, twitching and whimpering. As if he was caught in a nightmare. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. A fourth goblin goes down. As they do, the camera-goblin has finally had enough. He marches up to the tallest goblin in the inner circle, pushing past the younger goblins with little care. This goblin has two pieces of loot, a shining helm with small wings to either side, far too big on his head. And a broadsword, also too big for him. The sword is almost as tall as he is. It sits upright, its point lodged in a gap of the smooth flagstones at his feet. He stands there like a knight legs spread wid, a confident stance, if he were tall enough to properly rest his hands on his sword he might look like a king. Instead, he has to reach up slightly to hold the hilt. In the end, sword slightly tilted toward him and helm loose on his head, he looks like a child playing pretend. The camera-goblin jabs a finger at the most recent goblin to fall, convulsing on the ground right next to the two of them. He shrieks at the taller goblin in front of him, ___ we¡­ ¡­ We not ___! ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ why let ____ go?¡­ ¡­ ¡­ memories alive? Weak! [1] The knight goblin looks down on the camera goblin. Through his helmet, we can see his face, his sharp teeth are clenched together, his irises split his gaze searching through his peripherals. The looted helmet blocking most of that sight. The second pair of irises however are laser focused on the camera goblin. He looks determined, determined but afraid. No! ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ Go where?___ stay, ____ risk memories! [2] This only makes the camera-goblin angrier, the frame whips around wildly as he throws his hands up. He makes the loudest shriek yet. Angry shriek???? [3] The knight goblin winces and looks away, another goblin falls. He looks at the fallen goblin for a second, Fine, go. I go¡­ ¡­ ¡­ die___ die.¡­ ¡­ ¡­ I not ______. We ____ Memories _____ first. As he says this, he levers his sword off of the ground and on to his shoulder. Despite its disproportionately large size to his frame, he swings the sword with a practiced ease. He nods down at the camera-goblin and gestures for him to lead. The goblin turns around and begins to describe his plan, We go up ... ¡­ ¡­ Then down ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ I know ____ way, ___ loose wall. We go ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ wall on enemy___. No ____ Memories. Stay ____ stay ___. [4] The camera goblin is halfway out of the square by the time he finishes speaking. The knight goblin has to run to try and keep up. Though, as he passes by to take the lead, he gives the goblin an odd look. They walk for a while, passing in and out of darkness, focused on moving quickly and quietly. Then the goblin knight falls back and whispers at the smaller goblin, ___ you afraid of ____? ___ that why___? The camera-goblin doesn¡¯t respond, just walks faster, eventually stopping and seting the camera down on a slanted stone. In the half light of the halfway, he walks over to a wall and crouches half in and half out of the circle skylight. He seems to be rummaging around in a pile of debris for something. He finally responds also clicking quietly, No, yes¨C _____. I ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ We take ____ give enemy ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ they run. He stands up and hands what he found to the goblin knight, It''s hard to see what it is with the slant of the camera and the darkness. Then the camera is lifted again and the two continue. That is the last bit of light we see for a while. The black screen leaving a viewer with only the soft breathing of the camera goblin and the scuff of feet on stone. Then, in the dark, the camera begins to pick up other noises. Screams. As the goblins keep moving, the noises of battle only get louder. Once the sound is overwhelming, the goblins come to a new source of light. It streams through gaps in the large stones that make up a wall. While the camera picks those lines of light up, it is hardly enough to see anything else by. The camera goblin speaks again, careful not to be too loud. Stand here. Get that on. Ready? [5] Ready. At the knight''s confirmation, the camera-goblin presses his camera to the largest gap in the wall, pushing the lens through to the other side. It takes some time to wiggle the view around, but eventually the goblin swings what he¡¯s looking for into frame. The hall he pans over is decently large, wide enough for four men to walk shoulder to shoulder. Every five feet or so, a pillar stretches up to support a sharp arch in the ceiling. Between the arches, empty windows hold the twisted metal frames of what had once been stained-glass. It feels as if the halfway should be richly adorned, the now barren stone making the hall look eerie like a skeleton¡¯s rib cage. Two groups of goblins are fighting. One group has the same shabby and familiar clothes from the pyre video. The other goblins look physically similar, but wear nothing but intricate patterns painted across their bodies. The fight isn¡¯t going so well for the familiar group. They are being pushed back down the hall towards the section of wall that our two goblins crouch behind. Once the fighting goblins have retreated far enough, and close in on their position, the camera is pulled back through the wall. The camera-goblin sets down his camera farther back in the dark hallway, framing the light streaming through the loose stones of the wall and silhouetting the two in front of that. Now The hallway lights up, the ghostly Weave appearing around the camera-goblin, reflecting off the knight goblins helmet. Slowly but steadily, as the sound of fighting gets louder and louder, the camera-goblin twists the weave. This is not the frantic pulling seen from the goblins before, but instead an intentioned mess. The tangle makes no more sense than the earlier goblins magic, but the tangles and knots this goblin makes are obviously calculated and purposeful. The Woven net solidifies its shine, going from the ethereal strings the camera-goblin can conjure to bright threads of energy. The Weave¡¯s brightness shines enough to overwhelm the camera, then disappears. Beyond the two goblins, the stone wall begins to shake. The young goblin knight steps forward, dashing a hand against his metal helmet, whatever he was holding sparks as it hits the steel. The thing he wears on top of his helmet ignites, giving him a crown of fire. Over those few seconds, the shaking of the stones in the wall has gotten much worse. The stones seem to press in and audibly grind against one another. The knight goblin hefts his sword and gives the shaking wall a poke with his blade. The wall explodes outwards. The knight goblin is now bathed in light, a crown of fire on his head¡ª looking as if he collapsed a five-foot section of the wall with a swing of his sword. The camera-goblins timing was good, many of the patterned goblins were caught in the collapse. Those goblins stare at the knight, littering the hallway dazed and injured, the most unfortunate goblins crushed under blocks of stone. As he takes a threatening steep forward, the ones that can turn and run. Few would want to face a warrior that could fight a wall and win. The camera is grabbed, and the two emerge fully into the light, victorious, their enemies fleeing down the hallway. The knight goblin, his fire crown sputtering out, raises his sword to the tribe in victory. None of them look at him. Instead, they are staring at another goblin, half crushed under a larger stone from the wall. He, too, has a helmet and a greatsword. The camera drops, spinning through the air to land upside down on the ground, still pointed at the tribe. The camera-goblin runs to the crushed goblins side, shrieking and wailing. ¡­ ¡­ ¡­ [6] The old knight breathes his last. The young knight collapses, convulsing. [1] You might be surprised that we¡¯ve nailed down a tricky word like memories, but for some reason, goblins talk about it a lot! It''s got a whole bunch of different meanings too, at least we think! More on that later! ^owo^7 [2] See more memory! [3] What? It matches no other syntax or structures, dude¡¯s just frustrated *shrug* [4] Nope I don¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about! Current guess is a battle plan, there are a few too many proper nouns in this, we think, proper nouns are frustrating, sorry! ^uwu^ [5] First full translation YAY!!! |^UwU^| [6] Nobody can figure out what he says here, and I¡¯m not ruining the moment with a bad guess. END TRANSCRIPTION ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª That was pretty sad but I think we learnd something important. It seems spectacle is a big thing for goblins. PRESENTATION! Right? Well, let''s hope that''s true. Here¡¯s what grandmas got planned.
11th of Yorn, 128 I have linked the illusion to the power source of the carriage, I am afraid I may have broken the enchantments on it in the process. It is hard to think and hold a weave simultaneously. The goblins still hide in my cave. I spent enough time studying the critters to have a few ideas. I believe with a clever illusion I can get them to run away from me, or better, to respect me. I could use the help. The problem is what kind of illusion to use, I can dampen sounds and create fake rock faces and hills. I will have to weave a new illusion from scratch. I must pray they do not stumble through my fake wall before I am ready. I wish I had a weapon.
Document 24: Soft Hearted
11th of Yorn, 128 The plan is simple, an illusion to make the goblins run away from the cave in fear. The illusion cannot be so simple. It has been so long since I¡¯ve had the time to do something that''s felt so academic. I could not comment on it at the time, but the academy in this world is a travesty. Much of what is valuable to learn has been trapped behind the red tape of status. What''s left is shameless propaganda and vague folk tales. The classes are nearly all unhidden indoctrination and ignorant misinformation. If this world¡¯s humans believe half of what I learned about medicine and science, they are in for a dark future. Perhaps magic has turned into a crutch they wield against the truths of the world. The fact that my ill-advised contract stopped me from discussing such things was the reason I realized what an insidious grasp it had on my mind. It is hard to learn when something has a vice grip on your critical and analytic thoughts. I¡¯m rambling, I do not look forward to this next part. Back to the illusion. The illusion I have constructed is the first piece of art and research I have created on Elenteir. It will not be my greatest or my last, it is a wonder what danger can push me to create. I had to build it in two parts. First the physical aspect, a dark horde of spiders. I need an unkillable enemy, and a wave of spiders does nicely. They are small enough it is reasonable for them to dig or crawl their way into the cave, and omnipresent enough that I doubt the goblins will notice that their strikes will pass right through the illusion. I found a primer on ooze type monsters and the creation of liquid effects in the files I have loaded on my ENT. It will take me years to go through it all, but I am glad to have gotten as many things as I could fit on the device. That takes care of the look and control aspects of the illusion. Next is the pi¨¨ce de r¨¦sistance, the conceptual aspect. The people of this world may be scientifically illiterate, but with the proper understanding, the information they have gathered can be turned to better use. Some wonderful soul had gathered a list of mental weave patterns and the observed effect on human bodies. To the researcher, there seemed to be little correlation between weaves and effects. But to a medical professional? Child''s play. Never before have I been so grateful to have memorized the human body for my medical degrees. Not like this, at least. To make a long and technical explanation short, I have found a way to give my illusions the ability to impart a sensation of pain and, to a lesser extent, fear. No need to simulate a thousand tiny arthropod legs, if I can flood the senses with overwhelming pain where the illusion touches. The last thing to do is to weave this in my mind and connect it to the power source of the carriage. Such a large and complex illusion is not something I can maintain on my own. This will kill the carriage¨C leaving it fully immobile, power source burned out beyond repair. It''s an exchange I¡¯m willing to make. Now that this journal entry is written, I should wait no longer. If I write no more¨C and you are reading this, I am dead.
The illusion went off without a hitch, well, mostly. There were a few hiccups here and there, improvements I could have made. In any place other than a dark cave I doubt it would work. But here, in this cave it was beautiful. It is a shame my plan was not as perfect. It''s a shame I am so soft hearted. At first It seemed to work. The illusion started with a small skittering noise, diffracted across the room. It needed to sound like it was coming from every angle to fool the sharp eared goblins and fool them it did. The group noticed immediately and huddled in the middle of the room unsure of where the danger was. I had the spiders ¡®dig¡¯ their way up from the darkest corners, spilling out of cracks and crowding together just outside the light. The mass of spiders was more terrifying than I thought it would be. I will admit, I was uncomfortable seeing the light gleaming of the eyes and carapaces as they writhed together just beyond the light from the goblins fire. Then, I was in control. I moved the swarm to reach out to the huddled goblins, the spider horde questing towards them with long tendrils of spiders climbing over their brethren to slowly advance, a wave of spiders following in the dark behind. I had them trapped and contained, slowly backing away and retreating from the swarm. I pushed them back farther and farther, letting my spider illusion snuff out their campfire and plunging them into the dark. Forcing them to bat away at the ever-reaching tendril arms of spiders with sticks, rocks, and whatever else they had. I had them where I wanted them, right at the mouth of the cave. Then they stopped. Right on the edge of freedom, the goblins would go no further. As if I had put their backs to a wall. I didn¡¯t understand it, I still don¡¯t. Something out there scared them more than the spiders actively threatening their lives. Disaster struck; a brave goblin ran into the horde. He fell to his knees screaming, the pain would have felt like his skin being ripped off his bones; but still he crawled forwards. I let the spiders cover him and hide his uninjured body from the other goblins. There was nothing I could do to hide his screams. I hoped he would pass out soon, if he kept screaming instead of dying the game would be up. I doubt my illusion would hold up against the whole goblin tribe rushing in. Then things got both better and worse. The goblin, still screaming, began to manifest the Weave. He pulled at the underlying fabric of reality, twisting and knotting it around himself. The resulting magical fallout was inevitable. Eventually, he found a pattern that worked, a pattern that the world recognized. The weave began to shine, and so did he. The magical light began to evaporate the spider illusion around him. It didn¡¯t go far or last for too long, but it cleared the way back into the cave. The light shrunk back down to the outline of the goblin who summoned it, then he too disappeared. More goblins ran into the gap left by the first brave soul. Risking death from the horde of spiders to try and replicate his sacrifice and save their families lives. It was then that I realized that I could not do this. That first goblin¨C no that first person is the only person I have ever killed. Yes, there were others who I have led to death. None of their deaths were brought about by my hand. To kill another thing, another living, breathing, thinking thing. It does not¨C did not feel right. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I felt sick. The goblin who ran forward was just a man fooled by my illusion. He ran to his death to save his family from a phantasm, a meaningless threat I had created. I could see that as the next wave of goblins ran forward without hesitation, they would do the same. Behind them, cowering in fear but watching with hope, were their families. Their grandfathers and grandmothers, sons and daughters; their friends. I felt like a monster, more of a monster than humans claim these goblins to be. I don¡¯t know how the plan for this next part came to me, but somehow, I knew what to do. I grabbed out an emergency handheld flair and ran past the goblins camp to a small side entrance of the cave, while I baited the suicidal goblins deeper by having the spiders retreat. Just before they began to manifest the weave I called out. STOP! I brandished the flare and ran in, letting the purple magical sparks spew out and melt away the spiders; much like the light of the dead goblin before me. I let the spiders retreat at my assault, reversing the illusion and seemingly pushing them back where they came. I turned to the goblins there tired and weary gaze pierced my soul. I had caused this. I told them I had seen a light and come running. That I had lost my companions running away from the empire, I had hoped to find them here when I saw the light. I asked if they would let me shelter in this cave alongside them. We sit now as far apart as we could be, in an uneasy truce¡­ What have I done?
Hello, all Tim here, it''s my turn to comment. Well actually this one was supposed to be Judy, but it''s been another rough day. We''ll post a video about it soon. I''ve attached a news article about what happened to give you a bit of a preview. Now, it''s not just Judy who''s tired, I don''t have too much extra energy either. So, no clever comment, I will say now that I have been in a real fight. Grandma Trinaday is tough as nails and deserves more respect for this whole account. I couldn''t imagine going through that mostly alone. One last thing before the news clip, someone forgot to remove me from the MFW email list. That or someone''s being naughty and leaking internal documents. Take a look.
All Mail: This morning:
[email protected]
To: [email protected]
Topic: Find Her
Seer, The girl has evaded me. You will find her. --Harbinger Of the End, Part Owner - Multiple Worlds Foundation ~I will see no more worlds fall by my hands~
[email protected]
To: [email protected]
Topic: I am not your dog
Herald, Must I remind you that this is a counsel of equals? If there is any person you should be wary to offend in this governing body, it is the one who knows your future. You will not bully me Cormlus. Still, I acquiesce the girl must be found. Here are the most likely routes for her escape. Allocate forces as you see fit. 52% Austin, TX. I-35 28% Pueblo, CO. I-25 13% Las Vegas, NV. Las Vegas Blvd. 7% Cleaveland, OH. I-90 --Seer of Aeons, Part Owner - Multiple Worlds Foundation ~The future is but a million different paths, in the end your fate is predetermined. I have seen all bend to probability. ~
Here''s the new news about us. It''s a rough one, a video about it will go out soon.
BREAKING NEWS A mature woman in a loud blazer reports on the news. Things got heated and dangerous on I-90 today by the shores of Lake Erie, just outside of Cleveland, Ohio. Eyewitness reports are confusing, to say the least, and footage of the attack gives no clearer answers. The News Five helicopter is headed over to the scene to get a look at the aftermath of the attack, which is currently clogging up the I-90 freeway. A bird''s-eye view of the highway comes on screen. While the footage is muted, the sound can almost be seen in the chaos of the disaster. First responders swarm the wreckage, firefighters and EMT¡¯s helping wherever they can, and police officers cordoning off the highway. Emergency vehicles make a wall around the debris, lights flashing. At first glance, the highway looks like it¡¯s been hit by a bomb. Cars and bits of metal, twisted and deformed, litter the area. Some a good hundred feet from the road. The concrete barriers are crumbling and fractured a good radius around a massive crater in the middle of the road. Smaller craters and divots radiate outwards as well. A second look at the chaos raises a few more questions. Most obvious is the color, if this was just a bomb, the creator must have been a brilliant artist. The destroyed highway is soaked in a rainbow of otherworldly hues. A bright neon blue puddle, mixes with a cool mint green liquid in one crater, bubbling and hissing, vaporizing the highway where the two liquids touch. The reaction is so violent, the vapor can be easily seen, even from the helicopter. A few feet away is a large puddle of orange goop, surrounded by a briar of deep red vines. There are large spikes growing out of the briar into the air above the pool of orange. The tips of these spikes are drenched in the orange liquid. On the other side of the large crater, a thousand tiny splashes making up an odd crescent polka-dotted pattern across the highway. Each one producing off a flame of a different hue. The rainbow flames shift, dance, and change colors as the helicopter flies around the scene. A ring of clear slime surrounds the worst of the damage, glittering in the afternoon sun and perfectly reflecting the emergency lights. It brings the whole scene of destruction together in a way; the two colorful pools and the swath of burning embers looking like the eyes and mouth of a deranged smiley-face. An even more detailed obsessed observer might notice how oddly the cars had been damaged, and the fact that none of them are anywhere near the oddly colorful debris¨C well except for a pair of SUVs. Overturned in the middle of the chromatic tongues of flame. The rest of the cars are bunched against one of the concrete barriers or piled just off the side of the road. Only a few obviously got off the road themselves, the vast majority of the cars in that grassy strip are crumpled and wrecked, with no obvious tracks through the grass leading to them. Those cars have gashes torn out of them, or are crushed like a soda can. Things that no explosion or crash could do. A cut back to the news anchor. The only footage we have found so far sheds no more light on this bizarre attack. The video in question begins to play. ¡°Holy shit,¡± A man¡¯s voice can be heard from behind the grainy old phone camera. The footage shakes as much as his voice does. ¡°Are you seeing this?¡± If he¡¯s talking to someone else in the car, we can¡¯t see them, and they don¡¯t respond. The car is pulled off the road, into a small ditch. Through his side window, we can see a silver minivan backing up down the highway. A familiar figure with red hair is standing up through the sunroof. She¡¯s holding a middle finger out in front of her as the air around her glows in fractal threads. The minivan swerves as the fractal condenses to light then a compacted ball of fire above her hand. The grainy and over compiled footage tears as the cameraman whips his phone around to track the object the minivan swerved to avoid. It¡¯s a car, fully flying through the air. For a few seconds around the flying car, what Judy and her team are fighting can be seen. Giant monsters, in a Japanese show they might call them kaiju. Megafauna that vaguely looks like animals from earth. There isn¡¯t enough time or pixels to see more. The camera guy realizes what¡¯s on a collision course with him and drops his phone. ¡°Fu-¡± The video ends. The news anchor is still staring gravely into the camera. As you can see, there isn¡¯t much to go off. Our reporters in the field are looking for more footage of this attack. What we have managed to discover is the identity of the red-haired woman. She is suspected to be Judy Jubrie, a YouTube content creator, a serial arsonist, and now a possible terrorist. She is on the run for the suspected arson of her grandmother''s estate, and should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. The police warn that if you spot her, you should call for help then stay both away and safe. Her assailants or accomplices in this attack are currently unknown.
Author Update: A Change of Focus Hello everyone, First, I would like to apologize for the resent inconsistent uploads, I''m afraid those will continue. You see It''s getting closer to the school year, and unfortunately I still have to go and finish getting a degree. If that were all, I would try to continue the schedule. But Royal Road recent publishing announcement has changed my priorities a bit. You see, I had begun this project fully believing it would be my first try at writing and that it would never even have a chance to leave RR. Now, though... there''s a chance I could submit this to MoonQuill and fulfill a lifelong dream-- becoming a published author. So with that in mind, I''m going back to the drawing board a bit. First, I''m going to have to make sure this makes it to the 75K word count minimum for publishing. Second, I''m going to have to make sure these next ten or more chapters to the end are the best I can do. That changes my focus on this story, from an experiment to see if I can handle the workload of a web serial, to a test of my quality as a writer. Unfortunately, quality takes time and a rather unpredictable amount of it, so I will no longer dedicate myself to the schedule. I have no idea if I have more to draw on as an author, or if this story will even meet MoonQuills standards. But I really want to give it a try. I hope you will all stick with me as updates slow down on quantity, so they can go up in quality. It is only the influence of you all watching and enjoying my work that has brought me to where I am today. Without you, this would have gone the same as every other project I have tried to make before, abandoned in a chapter or two. Sacrificed to perfectionism. Thank you. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. All that said, the long and the short of it is updates are slowing down to one or two chapters a week, uploaded at 9:20 EST on whatever day they''re done. Unfortunately, today is not one of those days. Here''s an excerpt from the next chapter as an apology, I''ve spoilered it if you''d rather be surprised. ¡°Tim, What are you humming? It¡¯s driving me crazy¡± Judy has tucked herself into the passenger seat in a way that can only be comfortable after hours of sitting in the car. ¡°Did you ever see that old YouTube video? The Cleveland tourism joke?¡± He quietly sings the tune, hesitantly, as he¡¯s afraid he¡¯ll be judged for the reference, ¡°~Cleveland! At least we¡¯re not Detroit!... We¡¯re not Detroit!~¡± Fumu speaks up from the back seat, she¡¯s the one recording, ¡°Tim, don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but you''re a weird dude.¡± ¡°Hey! We just passed Cleveland like twenty minutes ago. Gimme a break. Plus I¡¯m not the only one, don''t pretend like we can''t hear you muttering ¡®I sure hope it does¡¯ after every road work ahead sign-¡± All of a sudden, Tim goes white and grips the steering wheel. ¡°Shit-¡± He lays on the horn, slamming the brakes. I''d like to thank you all one last time, It doesn''t matter if this gets published for my efforts or not. The fact that people are here, that they are reading, has changed my life. Whatever I have the opportunity to do in the future, I will always be an author. Thank you Document 25: Action Star VIDEO BEGINS TRANSCRIBING ¡ª ¡ª ¡ª Judy steps around the camera and begins walking to a camp chair set up in the center of the frame. Nobody talks or introduces themselves for a while; it is just the sound of crickets chirping and the occasional call of a frog or some other forest dweller. It''s just dark enough to make recording difficult, so the Youtubers have lit up the clearing with the headlights of an old beat up minivan. A blanket has been thrown over the hood to diffuse the harsh light into something that casts a more even glow around the space. Judy reaches the camp chair, slowly turns to the camera, and collapses back into the seat. She slouches down into the rough canvas, her head looking up to the sky, bunching up the back of the chair. The group stays quiet, looking off into space, as if none of them quite know what to say. The clearing they¡¯re recording in is surprisingly aesthetic for a bunch on the run from the law. Tim is just behind and a little to the left of Judy¡¯s seat, leaning against a massive concrete culvert that takes up most of the background. The culvert''s cavernous maw leads into a thick darkness, a few spray paint tags of various skill adorning the sides. A hill rises up on each side to contain the huge pipe, the plants on it weedy and unwelcoming. The green grass of the clearing stands out in comparison to the slope behind. A path cuts through it just in front of Judy¡¯s chair; it leads to the right of the frame where the minivan idles. On top of the hood lying down star-fished is Fumushu. The three of them are wearing comfortable clothes, Tim in his long brown robe with fluffy monster slippers on his feet, Fumushu in a red panda onesie, and Judy in the same gray sweatpants and loose tank top she was wearing in the first video at the lodge. Clearly, they had no plans other than a long road trip in the car. Judy sits up and finally looks at the camera. ¡°So¡­¡± The other two refocus to the camera as well, Fumushu awkwardly lifting her head up from the hood, ¡°We almost died today.¡± That statement rests, the other two YouTubers taking their time to consider it. Judy¡¯s gaze slips past just past the camera, looking not to the audience but somewhere into the past. ¡°That was way closer than the lodge.¡± Fumushu gets tired of holding her head up and speaks the next bit to the sky, ¡±I¡­ it''s a lot less cool, being an action star. You were right, Tim.¡± At his name, Tim¡¯s head snaps up, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I should have told you they were coming. I let you guys down.¡± ¡°No, Tim, you warned us enough. You warned us how bad this was going to be back at Grandma¡¯s. We were expecting something would happen.¡± Judy is quick to come to Tim''s support. ¡°None of us were expecting that. If you hadn¡¯t been there, we would have driven right into it.¡± That kills the conversation again. The three of them back to staring off into the distance. ¡°Look, Tim, I¡¯m sorry too. I¡¯m sorry I hit you back at the lodge. I should have apologized a while ago. This all has been happening too fast, and I¡¯ve been so mad with everyone since Grandma died. I just¨C it all just¡± Judy leans forward and puts her face in her hands, letting out a growl of frustration and anger. ¡°How are we going to do this? What do we tell them!¡± Judy gestures at the camera. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened, I don''t really even know where to start.¡± It''s Tim¡¯s turn to support,¡°We have the logs, we recorded the whole thing. I don¡¯t think it needs to be perfect now. Let''s just go, say whatever, get it all off our chest. I¡¯ll edit it all together when we¡¯re safe.¡± ¡°Ok, ok. I can do that.¡± Judy takes a deep breath and sits back up. ¡° It was about¡­ an hour ago, two, maybe a half an hour¨C Fu*k! I don¡¯t know when.¡± Fumushu lifts her phone up¨C its screen is bright, ¡°An hour and forty-five minutes. I¡¯m watching the news.¡±
The scene cuts here, And it''s a much more graceful cut than before. The screen fades darker till the only light is Fumushu¡¯s phone, then the light blurs, distorting and curving away from the rectangular shape. The color fades back in, the light is no longer a phone, it''s a car window. It¡¯s the view out of the back seat of a minivan. ¡°Tim, What are you humming? It¡¯s driving me crazy¡± Judy has tucked herself into the passenger seat in a way that can only be comfortable after hours of sitting in the car. ¡°Did you ever see that old YouTube video? The Cleveland tourism joke?¡± He quietly sings the tune, hesitantly, as he¡¯s afraid he¡¯ll be judged for the reference, ¡°~Cleveland! At least we¡¯re not Detroit!... We¡¯re not Detroit!~¡± Fumu speaks up from the back seat, she¡¯s the one recording, ¡°Tim, don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but you''re a weird dude.¡± ¡°Hey! We just passed Cleveland like twenty minutes ago. Gimme a break. Plus I¡¯m not the only one, don''t pretend like we can''t hear you muttering ¡®I sure hope it does¡¯ after every road work ahead sign.¡± All of a sudden, Tim goes white and grips the steering wheel. ¡°Shit-¡± He lays on the horn, slamming the brakes. Judy tries to sit up, but she¡¯s stuck in an awkward sideways position. ¡°TIM! WHAT THE-¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Tim slams the car into reverse, jostling both Fumu and the camera. Fumu keeps it as steady as she can, but even as she pans through all the windows, whatever set Tim off can''t be seen. He begins to zigzag back and forth as he backs up on the highway. Fumushu squeaks as she and the camera are thrown against the side of the minivan and are tossed away before she can brace herself. As the camera is thrown up against the window, for a brief second, a glimmer of something clear reflecting the sun flashes from the driver side mirror. The camera recording pauses on that frame, then zooms into the small side-view mirror. The glimmer in the mirror is caused by a massive tentacle rearing up from the ground into the sky¨C completely clear and jelly like.
Another transition, we fade back into the culvert as Fumushu¡¯s phone drops back down. ¡°How did you know they were there, Tim? What clued you in?¡± Fumushu asks. ¡°The feeling, I¡¯ll bet Judy felt it too. Magic of any type has a way of¡­ This is actually really hard to describe. It¡­ Tugs? You''re mucking about in the fabric of reality, creating things that didn¡¯t or shouldn¡¯t exist. Other magic users who operate on that level can feel you changing the world, like someone tugging on a massive blanket in your brain.¡± Tim talks with his hands, making sweeping gestures as he struggles to describe the sensation. ¡°That''s what that was? It felt like a little bump running around in the back of my head, just under my scalp.¡± Judy is a bit weirded out, ¡°Thought I was just tired or crazy, I¡¯d been feeling it for miles.¡± ¡°Miles? Sh*t, I should have told you to watch out for this stuff.¡± Tim looks guiltily at Judy, ¡°We were lucky though, Summoners aren¡¯t the stealthiest magic users. Their pets tend to¡­ stand out in the magical sense.¡± As he says this the video jump cuts back to the highway.
¡°Shit, We¡¯re surrounded¨C what is that?¡± Judy is beginning to untangle herself in the seat, bracing against the glove box. Whoever had planned this ambush must have realized the game was up. A clear wall of slime rises up to surround them, clear tentacles waving stubbly out from every angle of the massive barrier. A pickup truck slams into the slimy beast, going from sixty to zero after plowing just a few feet into the ooze. With a casual flick of a tentacle, the white truck is sucked up ten feet to the top of the wall and tossed into the grass, rolling end over end then coming to rest with a crunch against the trees far from the road. This scene happens again and again around the circumference of the ooze wall, in seconds the quiet highway transformed by the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass. Then the ooze starts moving, slowly rolling forward and grinding the unlucky cars against the concrete barriers on the left side of the highway. That was when the screaming started. Until then, It had all been too sudden for anyone to really understand what was going on. Tim turns around and begins to drive the car in reverse, ¡°Judy, watch our front. Fumu, open the sunroof¨C Make sure nothing¡¯s above us. If Rick is here, there¡¯s no telling who else the MWF sent with him.¡± Fumu¡¯s voice squeaks, the highest we¡¯ve ever heard it, ¡°That thing¡¯s name is Rick?¡± ¡°No,¡± Tim says, ¡°that is Yun¡¯gthax the Unseen Current. Rick is the a**hole who summoned him¡± Tim is not having an easy time staying in the middle of the ooze circle. The thing has started ripping out parts of the asphalt and throwing it at the minivan, forcing him to weave between potholes and chunks of rock. People are flooding out of their cars now, running off to the sides of the highway. A few brave souls trying to save the people crushed in their cars between the dividers and the ooze, most people just barely running to safety then pulling their phones out.
A silence falls in the clearing as Tim¡¯s voice trails off after mentioning the other people who had been sharing the road with them so recently. ¡°I can¡¯t believe the MWF just summoned sh*t right there on the highway. In broad daylight, there were people there.¡± his voice breaks, ¡°What were they thinking? What could make them so scared, make them go so far to stop us?¡± The van¡¯s headlights flicker briefly as Fumushu sits up on the hood. ¡°Tim, no. Don¡¯t go there. I don''t think there¡¯s going to be any kind of good answer. From what you¡¯ve told us they¡¯ve had a stranglehold on all of the magic going back and forth between worlds for years. And now as soon as they lose just a bit of control they go crazy and start attacking innocent people? No offense but something is deeply wrong with the people at MWF.¡± Fumu sounds pissed, and just as heartbroken as Tim.
The camera holds still through a side window, unfocused on the chaos. Fumu has checked out from the situation, holding herself and the camera static in shock. Her teammates are a bit more dynamic in the madness. ¡°Tim, Fumu¡¯s seriously out of it, what am I looking for?¡± Judy is standing on her seat, buckle undone, the car frantically beeping at her to reattach the restraint. She¡¯s got the sunroof slowly crawling open as she whips her head around to all the angles. It''s hard to see exactly what''s going on as she is just on the edge of the camera''s frame. ¡°Could be anything, but look for birds. Summons are local, they have to be here somehow. Most of the summoners refuse to use a car.¡± Tim''s voice comes out terse and clipped as he wrenches the minivan around between the words. A chunk of asphalt slams into the car across from Fumu, the interior plastic of the door popping off of its fittings with the impact. She jumps and lets out a squeak, it''s the first time she¡¯s moved since the ooze appeared. ¡°What do you mean refuse to use a car, how is a bird¨C¡± Judy¡¯s voice is stolen by the wind as she pokes her head out the open sunroof. Fumushu begins to move, slowly, numbly panning the camera. She sets the camera on the seat as she crawls over into the trunk, her torso slamming between the headrests as the car twists and turns. A hard yank, another crunch, a tilt of the car, and Fumushu finds what she was looking for and drags it back over the seat¨C a black duffle. She unzips it, her red panda onesie twisted on her body, the hood covering most of her face¨C she¡¯s laser focused on the bag. Clothes, the zipper opens to reveal nothing but clothes. Not even hesitating to zip the bag up, Fumu dives back into the trunk. ¡°OH SHIT.¡± Judy¡¯s voice calls back into the car over the wind, then we hear her as she ducks back inside, ¡°I see them¨C big blue bird¨C seems like they just wheeled around for another pass, Tim what do we do?¡± ¡°A Roc. Not the worst¡± Tim is running out of space to doge the asphalt more pothole than road now. ¡°Here¡± Fumushu shoves a different black duffle between Judy and Tim. She finally picks the camera back up to show the two looking at the open bag full of magical artifacts. A small smile and a mischievous glint can be seen growing in Tim¡¯s magenta eyes. He grabs a tightly wrapped net and pulls the e-break, sending the car into a sharp drift and bringing a majestic blue bird into view in the front windshield. >>>PAUSE<<<