Transcript:Narrative Telephone

Matt's Story
Pumat's Tale (Narrative Telephone 2020-04-06)

'Twas chilled that foggy morning, as enchanter Pumat wandered the wood in search of fine mushrooms to flavor his food. He plucked a fine fungus when a guttural growl caught his ears, a feral wolf stalking from the shadows. To his surprise, the beast did speak: "'Tis I, the lonely Wildred, and you, my meal."

Pumat recoiled, reaching into his pouch of plenty. "Though wandered I am, friend Wildred, I fear a poor meal would I make. For this humble Pumat is tough on teeth and filled with muscle."

The simple firbolg's bulging form took hold of the hunter wolf and wrestled powerfully they did across the trees and brooks until an evening's mushroom stew took on a unique, lupine flavor.

Laura's Story
Jester's Tall Tale (Narrative Telephone 2020-04-28) Oh hi, it's me, Jester. So sometimes when I was little, I wouldn't be able to sleep and momma would be working and the Traveler would come visit me and he would tell me bedtime stories. And one time, he said, "Jester, what brings sweeter dreams than the promise of a little treasure? Lay back and let me tell you about how to find Picador's Plum."

And he told me that across the sea there's this big beautiful city ruled by a secret dragon (whatever that means). And from there you have to go four days north. On dusk on the fourth day, you will come across a grove of trees, which you know is pretty special in and of itself being in the middle of a desert, but one of the trees in this grove grows an especial Elysian fruit. Now you have to pick this fruit, but don't eat it! If you eat it you'll be doomed to like stay in the grove forever or whatever. And then, from there you head four days to the northwest and you'll come across a boulder the size of a heart. No. The shape of a heart. Yeah, that's what it was. And underneath the boulder lives a hippogriff named Okarna. Now you give her this Elysian fruit, and she will become entranced with love for you. Now after she does that, you have to sing her a beautiful song that goes [sings]. Those notes exactly. And then she'll allow you to get on her back and she will fly to this cave of wonders where you will find the magical treasure.

Now, the Traveler never told me what Picador's Plum was, but I think it's got to be pretty amazing, you know, like maybe a dog in a dress that does a little dance? I'm not sure. But I'm excited to find out.

Sam's Story
Scanlan's Love Story (Narrative Telephone 2020-05-12)

Scanlan Shorthalt here with a tale for the ages.

Paulay was a poor delivery boy in love with a rich woman named Sudara, her hair the color of daffodil, her eyes deeper than the Lucidian. She had many suitors, but Paulay knew if he could win his fortune, she would notice him. One day he invented something amazing: silver rimmed glasses -- pince-nez with an ivory inset. These spectacles had the magical ability to see through solid objects. He put the glasses on at a poker hall and could see through everyone else's cards. That night he won a beautiful pewter ring which he presented to Sudara the next day. She loved it. At a carnival, he won the shell game twenty-two times and won himself a puppy, which he also gave to Sudara. She was so impressed that she agreed to marry him as long as he kept bringing her gifts.

Paulay skipped to work the next day. He was excited, but he was asked to deliver a letter from the evil goliath ruler, Prince Rotzi, and coincidentally, it was to Sudara. Curious, he used his magic spectacles to see through the envelope, but was shocked to read, "Has that idiot given you any more gifts? If so, bring them to our tryst tonight at the palace. Your lover, Rotzi."

Alas the moral of the story seems to be: (sings)
 * There once was a poor man named Paulay
 * Who invented a magical pince-nez.
 * It found him love, riches, and glee,
 * But when you look too close, you might not like what you see.

Liam's Story
Widogast's Web of Words (Narrative Telephone 2020-05-28)

Every Junge and Mädchen of the Empire knows the story of the dreaded Waldhexe.

Most think it is a tale to frighten children, but the wise know better.

Once there were three good children who walked in the light of the Dawnfather. So noble were they their parents could not help but look upon them with Stolz in their hearts. “Stay close to us, Liebling. Say your prayers. Serve your king. And always walk in the light of the sun.” And so they did, for a time.

But children are children, and one day they left their prayers and wandered to the edge of the wood, so vast and full of mystery. And though their parents had warned them from ever setting foot in the Wildnis, the desire for knowledge beckoned them. Now they no longer walked in the sun. Soon they could see almost nothing. Linking hands, they began to count their steps: eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf...

And then, in the darkness, they heard a voice. “Hunger...” There before them limped a spindly old crone, hair matted with dirt and twig.

“Who are you, Großmutter and what are you doing in these woods?”

“I am these woods, Kind. I am the land and the mountains too. And I hunger, so I think I will eat one of you.”

“Oh, please, Großmutter, our parents would surely despair!”

“I must eat, for the land to thrive. If I am not to eat one of you, then I shall eat part of all.” The children, frozen in Angst, watched as the Waldhexe stepped forward, stone knife in hand. From one boy, she cut out much of his mind, and ate it, and his thoughts were no longer his own. From the second, a girl, she cut out one eye, and this, too, the Waldhexe ate, and the child never saw true again. And from the last, she swallowed his heart, and he never knew love again. “Now, I am fed, Kinder. And the land will flourish and wheat can grow. You may go, as long as you send me your children, and their children after them. Thus will your blood and bones nourish the land, and your kingdom can continue to grow.”

And so it has, for years upon years, unto this very day.

Ashley's Story
Pike's Purple Jewel Cake (Narrative Telephone 2020-06-11)

Oh! Hi, friends! Pike here to tell you the recipe to my favorite delicacy in the entire world, the Purple Jewel Cake of Marquet. But first, I'm going to tell you the tale behind this tasty treat.

There once lived a woman named Madame Marquita Parcata. She was very wealthy, and she lived in a huge castle that overlooked the entire city of Marquet. She draped herself in purple velvets, and wore dresses made of the finest silks. But she was very mean, and very greedy. She was the wealthiest woman in Marquet, but it wasn't enough for her.

And then, one day, a little girl knocked on her door, and when Marquita answered, the girl said, "I'm sorry to trouble you, ma'am, but I've traveled very far and if I could just have some water and maybe a place to rest my head for the night, I would greatly appreciate it. And in return, I could give you a simple wish."

Madame Parcata replied, "I can give you water, but I have no room for you to rest."

After the girl drank the water, she said, "Thank you, ma'am. Now, what is it that you would like for your wish?"

Madame Parcata said, "Well, I want to be worth all the money in the world. I want people to know of me and be in awe of all of my riches."

The girl said, "Okay. This, I can do for you. And for giving me half of my request, I shall do the same for you." And then she said the words, "Plimpy, drimpy, flompies, and bompies," and in that moment, Marquita was turned the most beautiful sparkling purple jewel, as big as an apple. Forever. But she got her wish. People from all over the world came to see the Purple Jewel of Marquet.

So, be kind to one another. If someone asks for a helping hand, give it to them. And always be careful what you wish for.

Oh! I almost forgot to tell you the recipe! Well, you can figure it out. That's all for now!

Marisha's Story
(Narrative Telephone 2020-06-25)

Expositor Beauregard Lionett here, and let me tell you about one of my greatest achievements while I still worked for my dad in Kamordah. One summer, a rival winery decided to promote their upcoming vintage by posting a bunch of fliers smearing our family name. "Why drink like an animal when you can drink like a king?" it said, while featuring art of a pompous old man in a crown holding a lion in a chain. Needless to say, my father wasn't impressed, and enlisted me to go talk to the Stassmans about having the fliers removed. Which I did -- in my own way.

I decided to pose as Fiona Alderbrook, an interested distributor who would love to have a tour. But right before I entered the estate, I took a big swig of mycothistle extract, generally used by clerics to induce vomiting within about thirty minutes after ingesting. They walked me through their entire operation, finishing the tour by presenting a giant steel drum filled with this season's vintage, mere days away from being bottled. Eleanor Stassman opened the vat, and just as she finishes waxing poetically on the patience needed over the eighteen months to allow the malolactic fermentation process to fully achieve the perfect nuances of flavors... (chokes, vomits) With expert aim and precision, my haggis and sauerkraut from the night before splashed into the vat of zinfandel. "That's for the Lionetts, you turd bottlers!" I yelled.

Needless to say, the ruse was up. "Guards, get her!" Eleanor yelled. I bolted for the gate, popping the first guard with a running haymaker and dodging the second, flipping them off one last time when I got to the street, for good measure.

My father didn't really approve of my methods, but he did have a hard time arguing the effectiveness. The next day, with no product left to sell, not a single flier could be found in Kamordah for Stassman wine. Sorry, Eleanor.