This podcast is part of the Podcavern Network. Check out other Podcavern shows Oneirik. Day one. Hey, Deirdre. I had a weird dream last night. Considering it's the last time I'll sleep in my own bed, in my own room, in my family's house, maybe forever, I don't know how I feel about it. Wasn't a fun dream. When I was young, I used to dream that I went wind-soaring with a rabbit. One of those friendly rabbits from ancient cartoons. Did I ever tell you about that dream?
I must have. I had it so many times. The Lord knows why. That dream freaked me out when I was little, but it was kind of funny. Last night, though. That one was not fun, or funny, or sexy, or anything like that. Let me put on some music. I'm alone in the dormitory. I won't bother anyone. This hostel is two blocks away from the hatch, by the way, so that's nice. This is Poulenc's Litanie à la Vierge Noire. Pretty, uh, what's the word? Apposite, apposite.
Today. That's P-O-U-L-E-N-C, in case you want to listen to something real, and not that cycle-stem shit. I kid. What's it to me that you don't have any taste? We're blood. I'm stuck with you, Dee. And you with me. First, I was in a sort of cavern. I dimly remembered that I got in via an entrance in the middle of a clearing at the end of a long path. In any case, it was pretty dark, but I could see all right.
like I could see in the dark. The cave was made of stone, I suppose, but I can't be sure. Dry stone, no dripping water or ooze. No rats, not even any dust to speak of. Just nice and dry, just dry stone. Roomie, too. I'm easily spooked in tight places, as you for damned well know. But that wasn't a problem here. I made a hell of a metallic racket as I walked, and that's because I was wearing some sort of armor. Well-made stuff, too. Real class.
Sleek. Though now I think of it, I suppose it looked a bit worn. It fit incredibly snug. I couldn't even feel it. I think I had a sword in my hands too. Might have been a searer. Or maybe a pilgrim's thigh bone. I don't remember anymore. Hi. I know this is a public room and all, but I'm in the middle of something. Do you mind giving me ten minutes? Come on, man. Thanks, pal. I'll send you a beer tonight. Look me up in the refectory.
Wonder if he'll try and get me to make good on that beer. I'll be in a desert near Schritt 1 tomorrow night, I expect. I'll have some verdammt peace then. Anyway, yeah. I walked for, like, weeks in the dream. Didn't feel hungry, didn't feel tired, just walked and walked, all clickety-clack in my armor, and finally I made it to a door. A dream door that beeped and booped and sang at me.
I think something was written on it too, in like glowing magical letters, right? But you know how dreams are. You can never really read stuff in the dream. Just like faces are always a bit blurry. Even when you know who you're talking to. And then my father spoke to me. Just his voice, so I didn't have to deal with the blurry face thing. Why, my dad? Who knows? It was just one crazy stunt after another that dream day. Of a dumped fevered brain of mine. I was happy to hear his voice, of course.
Here, let me get that door for you, Vance, he goes, and the door opened, and I walked in. Big empty room. Good job, my father said. Then his voice went all sad, and he goes, You're not ready, though. Before I could say anything, but before I could wake up, I'll tell you that, the room went searing white. An insane white light, and I was blind, and I felt, I don't know, like hands with grips like visors all over my body, and they all started pulling. And the pain, Deirdre.
Then a voice said, and that was not my father, leave him three fingers. Which is particularly perverse, you know. But the pain, good Christ, the damned pain. You're not supposed to feel pain in a dream. Thanks, stupid brain. That's when I woke up. I can tell you, because I know you won't be an ass about it, but I'd... I'd pissed myself. Had to change the bed before anyone else woke up. You'll find the sheets at the back of my closet. I'm sorry.
Hell of a start to my trip, isn't it? I've been on this pilgrimage, this quest, to use that ridiculous word my mother loved so much, less than one day. If I were willing to risk your mother's curse, I could take the Met. and be home by about three in the morning. But I feel so far away already. Like I've been gone, like I've been on the road for years. In a way I have, I guess. I've been training for it long enough. I can barely believe I'm finally on the road. It almost feels like a dream.
I've packed light, self-cleaning underwear, any weather coat, a good pair of boots, not too tight, that's the secret. My roll tent, a mask, you never know. Small toolkit for my fingers. Once I'm a few hatches away, I'm not sure I'll be able to trust those bunitechis. And I need those verdammt fingers. A few rations and water tablets, but those will be gone soon enough, as will the money. I'll work for my crust. That's the process, anyway, isn't it? The wheel of it.
I've got the Omni book I'm recording this on, which I'll use for everything imaginable, but to talk to people, I guess. I'll have to find a weapon for myself once I reach Schritt 2 or 3. They don't let you through the hatch with a gun or a knife or anything like that, not here anyway. It's not like I'm in any danger now in any case. Even Ainz is probably pretty safe too, though you never know in the desert.
I'll bet regulations become real for damned loose by the time you get to Bühne though. I'll bet there are hatches out there where they don't give a shit what you bring through. Hatches you don't even need a ticket for. There are places in the world, Stee, where you need to hunt if you want to eat anything besides mushrooms and grass. There are places where you need to defend yourself, even if you don't eat what you defend against. Dragons.
day for that dragons i'm not even joking sometimes people too no doubt i mean i mean sometimes the dragons can be people you know Pray for me. Pray that I don't kill someone too soon on the big long road. Or at all. I don't think I could deal with that, to tell you the truth. I don't think I'm that strong. Or that weak, for that matter. Gets pretty hairy four or five hatches out, no doubt, but you know I'm the kind of fellow who thinks the rules don't apply to him.
How many times did Herr Gustavo tell me that? Two things Herr Gustavo told me all the time. One, you know where the big long road starts, but you don't know where it ends. Two, One day, Vance, you'll ignore the rules one too many times, and it'll bite you in the ass. We'll see. Finding a weapon. It's like a passage in a sort of play, isn't it? A chapter in a story or something. I wonder what kind Danica got. Maybe she'll show me. I might meet her again, you know. I mean, it's not impossible.
Maybe she's a wise witch somewhere now, on Schritt 4 or something, maybe even Bühne or Volke, and she's supposed to give me my weapon when I reach her hut or her ship. before sending me on my way with cryptic words of advice. Perhaps a riddle. You'd expect something like that in a story. I hope it's not a riddle. If I do find her, it'll be a hell of a sign anyway. Okay, we're done with the litany here. How about some more, Pulenik? This is his Quatre Petites Prières de Saint François d'Assise.
Well, I have my ticket for this hatch anyway. Looking at it right now. Tomorrow night at nine, to be weighed, don't be late, stepping through at half past. Wasn't cheap, was it? If she can... Bear to hear my name. Let your mother know I appreciate it. Give her my formal thanks. Tell her that's the last coin she'll ever need to spend on me. Her debt to her sister is paid up. The Lord be praised.
You tell her that. Lay it on thick. Try to make me sound humble and respectful and all that. It's not like you'd be lying anyway. I know I was a pain sometimes. And I'm sorry about that, but be fair. Your mom can be a right bitch on her day. Still, don't let anyone in the house believe I'm not grateful. Listen, I can hear more and more people walking around the halls outside the dorm. It's a miracle I was left alone in here this long. I'm gonna eat now. Maybe see about that guy's beer.
I'm going to miss you, Dee. I'm going to miss you all, really. Even your fordumpt mother. I don't know when I'll record another one of these. My idea was to do it every day like a sort of journal, but you know me. Sorry, I left like a thief in the night. Not that I left with anything that wasn't mine. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. That was shitty of me. Believe me when I tell you you're my favorite cousin.
If you were my sister, you'd be my favorite too. I'm not lying to you. That's why I'm recording this. I'm not calling you. If I'd seen you before I walked out the door, dear dear... I don't know that I could have left. And then where would I be? Besides home, of course. By Teffra Troy, Doctoral Candidate, Alternative Narrative Traditions, Université de Montréal, October 12, 683. UDMID, TT 603-782.
The audio story entitled Oniric, sometimes called the Hatch Pilgrim in academic circles, is not particularly well known to the general public. But it entered the wider canon, as a somewhat lesser work of course, more or less as soon as it was rediscovered by Keane and Beauchamp back in 602 of the New Common Era. In the following 80 years, it's mostly been of interest to scholars.
Due to metadata deterioration during the interregnum, the identity of the author is unknown. I have been researching this, as have countless other scholars over decades, to no avail so far. I have some promising leads. But of course, I'm hardly the first academic to say that. I will immediately dispose of the point that first-time listeners mention the most.
As far as I can tell, the similarity between the words hatch and hatch is purely coincidental, and it is wholly without thematic or narrative significance. Islam is hardly ever mentioned in the story and most of the specific religious references are Christian. About the themes laid out in this first episode, I will only make the following remark.
The pilgrimage, upon which Wanderer is embarking, is the reverse of a conventional pilgrimage. The traditional pilgrim starts his or her journey from anywhere in the world and travels to a specific point on the map, usually a building or a site of great religious significance. significance. The Hatch Pilgrim begins at the first hatch, but can end up anywhere. I don't think I'm being controversial when I state that this is the central pillar on which the story rests.
The author reads his own work here, as was often the case in the old calendar 2020s. It is written, and to a certain extent performed, to put it charitably, in such a fashion as to mimic an extempore reading by the protagonist, usually relating the events of the day in an informal manner to Deirdre, a character identified as his cousin.
Now and then, Wanderer, or Vance, the main character, explains that he recorded certain events as they happened, but such elaborate sequences are rare within the tale. presumably because they demanded considerably more resources to render in a satisfactory manner as an audio document. His explicit mentions of storytelling tropes in this particular episode are interesting, if a little on the nose.
There is an amusing contemporary name for this device. That is, for a story calling attention to its own fictional nature. Lampshading. CFTV Tropes. Archived. The author uses this particular narrative trick a little too often, perhaps.
There are clues here and there in the author's pronunciation that English was not in fact his first language. Opinions differ as to what that language actually was, but there is a consensus that it was probably French, for all that German expletives and names are used throughout the narrative. I tend to believe, as most scholars do, that he was Québécois, and as I myself come from Lower Canada, I feel a certain informal kinship with the author.
Hiragawa's contention that the author was born in France is highly fanciful and, in my view, can be dismissed until further evidence comes to light. My own doctoral project has to do with a rather remarkable discovery that I made in the archives of the Université de Sherbrooke in May of 681.
The abstract betrays the nature of this discovery, of course, but within the context of this new, remastered edition of Oniric, I have decided to reveal it where it naturally occurs in the story, to avoid pre-divulgence. Or, as the informal term has it, spoilers. I hope the doctoral committee will forgive me this little flight of whimsy. Arcane Ninja RPG tells a story about ninjas and magic by mixing improv and role-playing.
Meet our fledgling ninja and fall for them as they take their graduation exam and stumble upon unknown magic that will send them in an epic adventure. Root for them as the dice dictate just how successfully they face the threatening challenges that lay ahead. Binge on published episodes at the Podcavern Network or your podcast station of choice. Tune in every other Tuesday for your bi-weekly fix of Arcane Ninja RPG. Thanks for listening!