On moonless nights when ghouls run wild
and ghosties dance and scream and gloat
don’t fret, don’t cry, don’t fear, dear child-
Those ghoulies fear John Bloodycoat
Better stay away from him, he’ll rip your lungs out…
His hair was perfect…
I’d like to meet his tailor…
The Wizard-Brewers of the Old Empire stored memories in bottles of mead, passing their brightest ideas, most subtle magics, and most important decisions on to their heirs in bottles of oddly-flavored honey-wine. A cache of these ancient magical vintages has been unearthed, but does anyone dare drink from it? The ancient mead's creator is a complete mystery, as are the thoughts he left behind.