The last words of Ivil linger in the dark forest, their tendrils reaching to a glade that is impossibly vibrant, dotted with many white rabbits. One rabbit, with a torn ear, hops forward, and soon things are not what they seem. A curse has befallen them, or has it?
Andreas Lundström: https://soundcloud.com/rpgpodcaster
Heimat der Katastophe: https://heimatderkatastrophe.bandcamp.com/
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