— — — BREAKING NEWS — — —

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 — — —

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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– 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 — — —