“Behold the sky, as the peaceful hues of warm oranges and red swirl and turn violent; black smoke rises, clouds curl into something dark and terrible. The world below us trembles, the earth shaking … is it anticipation? Fear? These people do not tell me the answer as they grab their belongings and scatter, urging me along in a language I do not understand.

Behind us, the great volcano spews its ash into the sky above, caring not that it rains down upon those who love her so. As we make our way to the surrounding trees, I turn back to watch the spectacle. Rich magma seeps down her sides, the heat of which sets aflame all greenery that had since grown along the sleeping volcano’s sides. The ground shakes more violently underneath my feet, but I find myself unable to move -- my body seized with wonder.

She erupts with a mighty roar, a bang so loud it makes my ears ring. Yet, over that explosion of power comes a second call, shrill and powerful and beautiful. From the magma of the volcano comes a pair of wings, colorful and wondrous as the sky had been mere hours ago. Feathers stand like fire themselves on the head of the beast as it perches on the side of the volcano, talons sinking deeply into the rock. One of the locals grabs me and drags me away as the beast cries into the sky, whipping its fiery tail forth from the lava and taking flight.

We cannot return for some time, but the tribe has housing nearby. This is a historical occurrence, or so I am able to discern from their drawings, their actions. The beast is the mythological Phoenix; a being of life and rebirth. I recall the sounds of heavy, beating wings late into the previous night. The sounds of the tired bird coming to roost at the mountain, before coming to life anew.

Much like the volcano itself, the Phoenix carries the power of life and death. The lava may burn the village to nothingness, the ash may choke the people and cover the land, but life always returns afterwards, stronger than before. Or, so I am told.”

"… The moogles, they sing and dance before me on this day of holiest days. During my time here in the woods, I have to come to know the legends, the myth of the creature or the god they call the Fat Chocobo. The fae whisper its secrets in the wind, the yearning and interesting call of the gods. The moogles appear to be the masters of the woods, but in their speech and in their eyes I hear and see the call of something more.

The trees come alive with an ethereal glow, the leaves dance in this magical wind. The woods sing to us all, a charming and pleasing song, that calls to the very inner soul of all creatures. The woods thicken to a great forest that grows darker of sunlight, but glows brighter with magic. I cannot describe the feeling within my bones any longer, lost to the power of the light. I am mesmerized. I feel like my soul is separating from my body.

Before us, a mighty temple of gold appears. It is as dazzling as it is terrifying, yet I feel welcomed despite my anxieties. The moogles cheer with a raucous applause as they lead me up the long, straight walk of the temple. I have no idea what to expect from this encounter. Even the moogles seem unsure, only buzzing with excitement. I was told only those worthy of an encounter with the Fat Chocobo would be granted one, but surely it is the moogles who deserve this treat.

The heavy doors part, revealing an elaborate room that is beyond my comprehension. The lights, the magic, the colors -- can words describe them? I think not. Seated upon the throne is a magnificent beast, large in stature, but wise in mind. I feel both welcome and judged, special and nothing more than a speck of dust.

Is this my last entry? I cannot say. For now, I stand before the glory of the Fat Chocobo. This journal I entrust to the moogles who educated me, housed me, and loved me. I wonder what new adventure awaits ..."

"...It couldn’t’a been too much past noon, but once we went into them trees, it was like evening time. The light was … Well, it wasn’t orange and warm and like you think during midday. It was blue and cold and dark. We kept goin’ anyway, y’know, thinkin’ there might be  somethin’ cool to take home and show off. But the further we went in, well … Things got real weird real fast. We started feelin’ tired all a sudden. And that don’t make no sense, not to us young farmin’ kids. We could work all day and still have trouble settlin’ down at night. No, it was like Ma had us tucked in warm beds and started singin’ one of her lullabies, y’know. We started yawnin’ and trying to hang off of each other. Next thing I know, everythin’ goes dark. When I wake up, my brothers is gone. I start panickin’.

And I tried bein’ a man about it. I puffed out my chest and said it’s all fine, they probably just hid under some bushes. So I started wanderin’ around, shoutin’ for ‘em. But, they never said nothin’ back. It was just my voice, bouncin’ off the trees, like when ya shoot a empty can on a Sunday afternoon. Yeah, that tough man thing didn’t last long. I started cryin’ like a baby, cause I was scared. I was all alone, and my brother’s was probably all alone too. I felt sick, like I could barely keep movin’ my feet. Felt like I was gonna collapse at any moment.

Then there was this … light. This red light came outta nowhere, and I felt warm again. Like takin’ a sip of hot cocoa on a cold night. This weird creature came out of the trees, it kinda looked like a dog, but not. And it didn’t look real, y’know? Like how they describe ghosts, bein’ able to see through it and all. But when it came up to me, I suddenly felt safe. When I touched it, it felt warm, I’ll never forget that feelin’. Well, the animal, it helped me get up and then it took a few steps before lookin’ back at me. That’s when I noticed that weird red thing on its forehead, kinda like a gem that you can see in the shops in the city. That’s where the red light was comin’ from. It was pretty clear it wanted me to follow it, so I dried up my tears and kept walkin’.

That thing helped me find my brothers. They were cold and cryin’, but when that animal got close to them, they said the felt the same way. Safe ‘n warm. I don’t really remember the rest very well … That thing helped us find our way outta that damn forest. And I know we were lucky. We’d’a died that day, if that thing hadn’t found us. It showed us back to the entrance, and after we stepped back on the path home, it disappeared. All I remember is a little paw print in the dirt …

We all still dream of that thing. It saved our lives.”

"...The closer we drew to the temple, the worse things became for our camp. The rains came down heavier, the ground somehow became even looser than it previously was. Much of our equipment was forever stuck in the muck, and the insects never let us be for more than a moment. The entire venture had turned into a curse, yet we pursued onward. We’d come too far to simply leave with nothing. We knew, deep in the bog, was the great Metaia Temple, and all the knowledge that it held was priceless.

The temple was in sight, and despite being completely out of energy, tired and wet, we pushed ourselves forward. However, as we approached the foot of the temple, terrible beasts appeared before us! They snarled and stepped easily through the mud and the muck, their teeth bared at us. The mercenaries we hired were just as exhausted as we were. They tried to drive the beasts away, but between the horrible terrain and the lack of energy, it seemed hopeless. We drew together, terrified, feeling the end coming. We had hardly the energy to move.

Something curious came for us, though. A gentle wind blew through the air, dispelling the funk of the bog and replacing it with the scent of flowers. Strange lights emerged from the bare trees, dancing in between us and the beasts. The bright, colorful orbs faded slowly, revealing something I will never forget. Small, human shaped, with beautiful, delicate wings .. the Fae! I had only heard of them coming from the Wanderwood area, yet they seemed to hear our call. The fae swarmed the beasts, and the flowery wind blew back toward us once more.

We were suddenly filled with energy. The mercenaries roared with delight as they descended upon the weakened beasts, easily slaying them and saving us all from certain doom. The fae danced along in the air for only a moment more, before vanishing back into the thin, bare trees. Whether it was fluke, or that some of the fae live in this awful bog to protect travelers like ourselves, I will never know."

“ … I fear bearing this knowledge to the King. Ventures forth into the jungle south of the city, beyond the rapid rivers continue to bring us strife. Our men return to us stricken with strange diseases most foul. What vapors lie within that mass of trees and grass is second only to the monsters that prey on men within. Search parties bring back only pieces, and never any of the treasures we were once promised.

Curiously, a set of private explorers returned from amidst the confines of the jungle completely unharmed. The two did not belong to our parties, but came forth with their own unbelievable tales of a people most curious and an adventure too wild to be true. They brought not gold nor silver, but a relic that not one of our scholars can identify. It appears to be the only thing of value they have contributed, as their story is too outlandish to believe.

The men state that they became lost while mapping out their course, having been chased by a beast three times the size of a man that climbed trees and chased them about. Just as the men felt death coming for them, a strange and powerful wind came to their rescue. The beast was blown from the trees and out of sight by a spectral animal, it’s large teeth bared and chest heaving growls. The killer-beast was blown away from its prey time and time again by the mysteriously, ghostly animal, until it disappeared back into the dense foliage.

The explorers claim the spectral animal vanished from sight, but that a calm and persistent breeze led them back toward their camp. Perhaps such a wind kept them from being infected by the foul vapors that attacked our men, yet the story is too wild to behold. The King will not be satiated by a tale of wild adventure when his goals are so much more …”

"Of all the spirits of the Headstone Forest, one in particular stands of note. The locals call it the 'Doomtrain,' a name that I find inadequate for the horror it represents. As I journeyed the forest's twisted paths, I came across an overgrown railway carving a route through the trees. The bolts were rusted. The planks were set in with rot. It was, in essence, entirely defunct, and yet as I studied its make, I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet. At a distance, an echoed whistle.

I leapt from the tracks just in time to avoid the great demon which hurtled towards me with great abandon. It resembled a locomotive of the styles of the Sonoran nation but for its raging flames, its skull-like face, and its burning eyes. It seemed to give a scream as it charged past me, and such a terror I felt, I could do nothing but wait for the great thing to pass. As the rattling of the rails came to a slow silence, I found myself alone on my forest path as though I had seen nothing at all.

My research has found that the Sonoran nation had once been commissioned by the Provo territories to tame the forest with their great technology. Few records of the expedition remain, but it seems that construction lasted mere months. Could the railway be the last evidence of this doomed endeavor? And what became of the hundred or so railway workers tasked with this end?

It is not unreasonable to say that they still ride that railway, victims of the very trains they had manned in life."

"For nine days, our expedition traveled the River of Repose in search of trade routes which might connect the eastern desert sands to the bountiful coastlands to the west. We found ourselves a stranger in these hostile waters, plagued by insects and oppressive rain. Our navigator took ill with fever on the third day, and by the seventh, he had passed on. The river had taken a strange shape, overcome with fog and plant growth which glowed an eerie blue in the moonlight. By the ninth day, we were hopelessly lost and, it seemed, at the edge of the world.

It was then that a distant shape caught our eye. Tall as a hill giant and wide as a behemoth, this animalistic form stood vigil over the fog, and we were frozen in terror at the sight. The beast resembled a hunting hound, but broader and sporting three monstrous heads bound by spectral chains. I would have thought myself mad had the rest of my party not shared this vision, and there it stood in its own chilling repose.

We noticed then the ghastly hands clawing and grasping at its matted fur as though a hundred deathly souls thought to drag themselves from the depths of the water in which the beast stood. With a single, bone-chilling howl the specters were dissipated, and the beast retreated back into the fog.

Now our party has returned to the safety of the Marshland's native villages, and we are sleepless and wary. The locals call the beast Cerberus and claim him to be a guardian between this world and the next. Is this spirit the reason that the Marshlands have not become a hive of ghosts and demons like the Headstone Forest? Time and again, my thoughts return to that deathly guardian and its cursed vigil for which all nations owe their gratitude."

"The Mercenaries wouldn't go into the construct much to the dismay of the Scholars who had hired them. A legend whispered forth, telling of a literal demon within the confines of the monolith. There was no actual recorded history of this legend; it had only seemed to be word of mouth. Of course, the Scholars would only believe two things; what was written and what was seen. This foolishness followed them into the dark corridors, and the Mercenaries eventually broke and pursued close behind, weapons at the ready. Their foolishness would, in every essence, be the undoing of nearly everyone involved.

The survivor recounted what he had seen within. They stepped into into an open chamber, circled on all sides by a chasm of unknown depth. In the center, there was a large platform and pedestal with chains piled beneath, interconnected with a single chain coming up to a position close to the door. In the chain, there was a large nail, holding the link in place. One of the Scholars, indicative of the foolishness they carried with them, bent down to touch the chain.

Of course, the Mercenaries protested immediately, but could get no word out before a large barred door shut behind them. The nail glowed red and sapped the very essence from the man who had touched it. The group watched as he pitched forward into the expansive abyss, and a demonic form took shape. The chains and cuffs lifted, revealing a previously unseen form shackled to the pedestal. That was until the chain fell, and the demon spoke.

"You fools dare to release me?" he stretched to his full height, wings arcing behind the beast, his arms spread out in welcome as the shackles fell. "I am the darkness itself, the sins of the world made manifest…"

The survivor had managed to hide, but he was not without injury. Burns scarred across his body, and his hair had turned white from the terror he beheld. Hunters and warriors were sent into the construct, but the room could not be found. The only proof of this being's existence was the state of the sole survivor. Gods, help us."

Coming Soon!