the history minors

January 14, 2026

I got a promotion at the start of the year and let me tell ya. Stockholder value is up, creativity is down!
lol it's fine. Zines are on their way. Zine show in about a month. Guitar lessons on the horizon.

December 29, 2025

I'm starting a new ttrpg campaign for a few friends in a couple weeks and needed some preamble to get them introduced to the world. They will largely ignore all of this, but it's a nice exercise and is some fun flavor I'm hoping to add to a zine that you've seen a few previews here. When inspiration strikes, maybe you'll see it here. Another advantage of ending the weekly Monday post (despite this going up on a Monday) is I can just slap it up here. You'll at least see the last five posts with dates and rolling updates. There won't be more one or so a week so you won't miss anything if you don't check weekly.

Moft was a moth sage who is believed to have brewed and ingested the most pure form of magic ever created. They described the elixir as a very thin liquid, with a deep orange color that smelt faintly of sunflower butter. It was distilled from the sap of a maple tree stump that had been chopped down the previous year near the monastery Moft had taken residence. Moft never described the full process of creating the elixir, and the monastery and tree stump have long since decayed 600 years since the elixir’s creation. Many believe Moft created something that was powerful and demanded great skills to brew, but it’s speculated that an influence outside the mortal realm altered and blessed the elixir. 

Upon ingesting the elixir, Moft fell into a deep sleep that lasted 80 days. Hallucinogenic deep sleeps were not unheard of but more than 4 or 5 days seemed entirely impossible. 

When Moft finally woke, there was only one attendant tending to them. “Write this down before I forget,” were their first words. The attendant began transcribing Moft’s dreams and was unable to call for assistance as it was the middle of the night and the next shift would not arrive for several hours. When others finally arrived, the attendant stopped them from interrupting and ordered more paper and ink. He had begun writing on the walls and floors in his own blood to record the dreams. Moft spoke for 10 hours, all of which was recorded by the attendant, who would later be called the Pen of Rhone.  

When Moft finished, they rose from their bed, left the chamber, and walked to the small pond on the monastery grounds. They stepped into the water and disappeared under the surface. They were never seen again.  

The dreams, formally known as The Visions of Moft, described the creation of Il Tor by the 10 Fiends, the quest to find the Cloak of Rain, and a story about an ant’s journey to the Mirror Mountains.