Long ago, in a far away Eastern land, there was a scary (but not too scary) Dunngeon, far removed from the rest of the village, in which lived a young boy who kept to himself and spent his days playing guitar and listening to dusty old Jerry tapes. The boy led a happy life; still, he dreamed of more...
One day, the boy heard a faint knocking—quiet as a mouse—on his Dunngeon door. He cracked the door and was greeted by a mysterious old man with a twinkle in his eye. "Sir, how can I help you?” the boy asked the weary stranger. “Help…please…” the old man croaked. Exhausted from his travels, the old man collapsed and fell into a deep sleep.
The boy brought the old man into his Dunngeon and began to nurse him back to health. Days went by; the old man awoke. The boy started: “Sir! How are you feeling?” “Hmmmhawww,” the old man grumbled. “Don’t call me that boy!” The boy responded: “Well, then what shall I call you?” Still weak from his travels, the old man could hardly muster a whisper. “Call me…the Wizard!” “A Wizard!?” the boy exclaimed. “But I thought there weren’t any Wizards left in this land.” “There aren’t, I’m not from this land,” the Wizard replied, “but enough of this talk, boy. I owe you for saving my life. Now fill up my pipe...and I’ll tell you a thing or two...about...Magic!”
The pipe was filled; the Wizard was ready to begin. “Come here, boy. I have something to show you,” he said as he pulled an object from his paisley travel sack. It was a Magic Power Creation box—the boy had only heard fantastical stories of the MPC (as commonly abbreviated amongst Wizards) and he was cautious, yet curious, of its great abilities. “Hmmmm,” the Wizard pondered. “If I only had a few special ingredients for my MPC, I could show you my secrets.” The boy didn’t have many possessions in his Dunngeon and he searched high and low before bringing The Wizard his dusty old Jerry tapes and a broken tape player. “Will these work?” the boy meekly asked the Wizard, afraid the materials would be insufficient. The Wizard broke out into a long, deep chuckle and said “Oh, that’ll do just fine.”
Many moons passed, many pipes filled, and many kernels popped—for how the Wizard loved popcorn—and the Wizard had taught the boy a great deal of his magic.
“Would you look at that, boy,” the Wizard cried. “We’ve reached the end of the tape!” The boy popped the dusty old tape out of the broken deck and looked at it in astonishment. The tape was no longer dusty. The Wizard snatched up the tape from the boy and inspected it. “My boy, it is as prophesied by the Ancient Scriptures...this is The Lost Tape! Many a Wizard have died in pursuit...but...my boy—we’ve done it!”
The boy and the Wizard were unsure of how to properly harness the power of The Lost Tape, so they locked it away deep in the Dunngeon for safe keeping. They continued to use the MPC together for some time, though the Magic grew stale.
“Well my boy,” the Wizard laughed one day, “I think I’ve taught you every Magic trick I know!” The Wizard was stricken by the boy’s progress—in fact, as the boy grew skillful, the Wizard grew wary. He began to fear he had taught the boy too much too early. He began to fear the boy may used his learned Magic against him someday. He knew that he soon must leave the boy.
Late one night, the Wizard picked some herbs from the Dunngeon gutter, packed them in his pipe, and said with a sigh, “Ya know, I wanna see what the Magic scene in the Western land is all about, I think it’s time I move on” He paused and looked down over the spell they crafted early that afternoon on the MPC. “...Doodoo,” whispered the Wizard as he flicked the power switch. Though concerned, the boy knew there was nothing he could say to stop the nomadic Wizard. Soon after, the boy awoke one morning to find that the Wizard had vanished.
Years went by after the boy and the Wizard parted ways, but the boy never forgot about The Lost Tape. He prepared himself for a journey back to the depths of Dunngeon to retrieve the legendary tape. It was a treacherous journey indeed—he would need to weave through factions of Rioting Sox Bros, evade Mutant Trashroaches and evict the Crusty Vagrants who had since colonized the Dunngeon in the name of the Arch Vagrant of Lower Allston. The boy made his way through the harrowing journey and finally arrived at the secret location where they had locked away The Lost Tape—but was shocked to find that it wasn’t there! The boy became panicked. “Where could it be?!” He searched everywhere, and found nothing but three salty popcorn kernels…
The boy returned from his fruitless journey and the Tape became a distant memory.
Years later, the boy began hearing of a rumor that a Wizard in the West was claiming to have summoned a Mystical Tape with Unearthly Funky Powers. The rumor went on that the Wizard was embarking on a journey to the Westernmost Mountain to appeal to the Tape Gawds and make his claim as the Sole Summoner of The Lost Tape. The boy, of course, knew this Wizard in the West—and knew he must be trying to use the tape to earn a seat at the Huge Table of Gawds. The boy raced to the Easternmost Mountain to appeal to the Gawds himself.
The Wizard sat alone atop the Westernmost Mountain and prepared to offer The Lost Tape to the Guardians of the Ancient Scriptures. The Wizard drew his trusty pipe but alas, he had smoked the last of the Dunngeon herb that he had packed years ago. He shrugged—the Gawds would have plenty of herbs anyway. Setting down the pipe, he reached in his sack for the tape he had taken so long ago from the Dunngeon depths…
Meanwhile, the boy made his way through the last encampment before the Easternmost Mountain. Knowing it would be a treacherous journey, he made his way to Kirin’s Pub at the base of the mountain in search of a guide. He stepped inside a smoky, dimly lit room with a sad, sloppy looking sitar player quietly strumming an old folk tune in the corner. The boy scanned the room for a suitable guide—there was an Artisan, a Dwarf, a Pipe Maker, a Scribe, and a Genius. Everyone there was hardly any older than the boy himself, save a drunken old mountain jack slumped at the end of the bar. Setting his bag down on the stool beside the mountain jack, the boy cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, sir…I need a guide to the summit, is there any way you can help me out?” The jack grumbled something. “Pardon me?” asked the boy. “Ittle costya.” He stumbled on the next part but the boy understood a figure way beyond what he could afford. “Sir, please…a sneaky Wizard stole something of mine, I must make my way to the summit, can’t you help me out?” The jack laughed, slammed his fists down on the bar and blurted something unintelligible. Before the boy could turn away, the Dwarf tapped his shoulder. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but I too know of a dusty old Wizard. Does your wizard wear glasses and smell of pungent herbs?” The boy lit up. “Yes! How do you know of this Wizard?” The boy’s new friend continued, “I knew him years ago. I lent him my Spell Projector 404 for a week, and for months after that he was casting my spells across the East.” The Genius joined the conversation. “Are you talking about Old Hmmhaww? With the popcorn? I’ve been working on my next spell for ages now and he keeps releasing a new spell every week!” One by one, everyone at Kirin’s Pub joined the conversation with a tale about the Wizard. Soon, this new crew decided to pool together and pay the mountain jack to guide them to the summit so they could make their appeal together.
The Wizard held The Lost Tape high over his head. “Tape Gawds, come forth! It is I, Sole Summoner of The Lost Tape. I have come to stake my rightful claim!” A long pause—no response. The Wizard opened his mouth to repeat his decree, but before he could utter a word, a flash—the Wizard was knocked off his feet and the tape had turned to dust. Disoriented, the Wizard looked around. With no tape and no claim, he gathered the Forsaken Dust, packed it in his pipe, and fell into a deep slumber.
The next morning, the boy clambered over the last ridge to the summit of the Easternmost Mountain with his mountain jack guide and crew of pub Wizards. “Oh mighty Tape Gawds,” the boy bellowed, in between panting breaths. “The Wizard in the West has made an untrue claim—yes, he summoned the legendary Lost Tape,” he explained, “but he did not do it alone! We have come to challenge his claim—I, too, am responsible for the Summoning of the Lost Tape! Please mighty Gawds, we only seek—” and once again, a flash. The boy was knocked back. The sky turned dark and a shapeless apparition appeared before the bewildered boy.
“HOW DARE YOU ATTEMPT TO SUMMON THE TAPE GAWDS WITH SUCH A PETTY BECKONING,” roared the apparition with the attack of a thousand Rough Riders. “THE WIZARD BROUGHT THE TAPE BACK TO US LAST NIGHT. WE LISTENED THROUGH IT A BIT AND IT‘S KINDA DOODOO TO BE HONEST. PROBABLY WHY WE LOST IT. EITHER WAY, PLEASE STOP BOTHERING US. WE’RE WORKING ON SOME NEXT LEVEL SHIT UP HERE AND DON’T CARE WHO SUMMONED IT.”
With that, the apparition disappeared and the clouds parted. The boy, still on his back, rolled over and tried to spring up. Still dizzy, he lost his balance and fell back down. He let out a yelp and clutched his arm—he fell on something hard. Grasping around, he found the object that had broken his fall—The Lost Tape. The boy smiled...he did not know what to make of this journey, but he knew that he must share this Dusty Old Gift from the Gawds.
released August 9, 2017
PRODUCED BY T-DREDZ
ARRANGED BY T-DREDZ
RECORDED BY T-DREDZ
MIXED BY T-DREDZ
MASTERED BY T-DREDZ
ARTWORK BY T-DREDZ
LAYOUT BY T-DREDZ
FABLE CONCEPT DISCOVERED BY T-DREDZ
FABLE WRITTEN BY T-DREDZ
FABLE ILLUSTRATIONS BY T-DREDZ
RECORDED A LONG TIME AGO IN THE DEPTHS OF THE DUNNGEON