Episode 51: Season Four Prologue

Well, hey there, family.

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Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratchers from the California lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly.

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Old Gods of Appalachia is a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences.

So listener discretion is advised.

These old roots run

to a ground so bloody

Full of broken dreams and dusty bones

They feed a tree

so dark and hungry

Where its branches split and new blood flows

The ghost of a past you thought long buried rise a haunt the young

The shadow falls judgment comes

Tread soft my friend amongst your fellows Take your own your word

Lest you get what you

deserve

to be able to do it.

Oh Appalachia,

will you ever be unblooded?

Oh Mother,

will your vestments ever be clean?

Are we destined to stain you with our coal-blackened blood and soot-stained hands for all eternity?

And how much of you will be left once we have taken our fill

or once we admit we will never be filled, that we are the ever-empty bellies, the starving mouths, the broken teeth that will grind themselves to dust and pulp before they ever stop trying to

consume.

We who refuse to be weaned will drink these hills dry if you let us.

We few, we wretched few, we band of ragged brothers and sisters and kin will rattle on through these hollers long after the coal is gone and the jobs dried up

we stay

because you are home

because you are all we know mama

appalachia is a place that knows all about consequences Both those we intend and those we cannot foresee.

Over the eons she has watched her own mountains soften, be smoothed over and diminished and eroded by weather by time and of course by

men

the actions of men have held far-reaching repercussions for mother appalachia and for her children just ask sister wolf

or brother falcon

Or hell, the folks still living over on the koala boundary, what few remain since their ancestors were driven from their land or killed by their fellow men.

Our mother has known little in the way of justice,

has seen no divine retribution for the sins for those who have wronged her.

Though on occasion, folks might put on a little show.

An absurdist parody of crime and punishment, the kind of people who believe themselves righteous enough to stand in judgment of others.

Though often as not, they tend to have more secrets buried in the back 40 than just about anybody else around.

Just such folks convene now

to bring another to task.

In the many years he has walked this world, he has at times played the fool,

and others the magician or the devil,

even the hermit a time or two.

And now friends and enemies, witnesses and accusers gather to decide his fate.

The high priestess,

the empress,

the hierophant and the lovers will all have their say.

And if he doesn't play his cards right,

he might just find himself cast as the hanged man.

So it goes, family, so it goes.

Along the banks of the river that feed into the deepest part of the valley, a young woman in the pains of childbirth flees in the direction of safety with those who would protect her.

The night itself seems to pursue her as unseen things rattle and prowl in her wake, driven on by their dead-eyed master.

Safety is but a porch light away

of what follows.

Patient and tenacious

is accustomed to the the long hunt.

In the verdant hollers that twist through the mountains, a young man returns to the land that birthed him after witnessing what his kind can become in the far-flung fields of war,

hoping to lead a quiet life,

a life unbothered by other folk.

Where he can just sit in the silence of the woods and try to forget the things he has seen

and done.

A man like that should be left alone.

Folks know what's good for him.

But folks seldom do.

Now there might be a dispute about who drew first blood,

but there'll be no doubt who draws the last.

In the shadows of the Blue Ridge, a fancy man at a farmer's market courts a young witch.

Promises are the world and all its wonders, and we know the usual outcome of such honey-tongued promises pinned to the pages of love letters, but we can hope all the same.

Yet when true love calls, and the cock won't crow, and the cows won't milk,

and the bees stop making honey,

How sweet can romance be?

A man's word should should be his bond, and a promise made has consequences, be it kept or broken.

These troubles and more can all be traced back to a singular being in one way or t'other.

One who has planted his roots deep in the night-black soil of our land.

The repercussions of his choices twine through time like kudzu vines creeping insidiously through the woods of Appalachia Appalachia until they clutch its beating heart in a stranglehold.

Many bear the marks of both his curses and his blessings,

and they'll have a chance to speak now.

Many come to condemn him,

but who

or what

might stand for such a man?

The wheel of fortune spins, and they gather to decide his fate.

Those who would play justice have much to say about the consequences of his actions, and yet they possess no crystal ball that they might gaze into the future and look upon those far-reaching outcomes.

And one such as he plays a long game.

You can bet your life on that family.

They will gather in number

from holler and glen

Those who would speak for the beasts and the men There'll be witches of course with axes to grind Seeking the remedy they never could find

Shadows will rise from the depths of the earth

Echoes of madness and things never birthed

They will come too,

for tis only fair

The dark sends the stag

when the green sends the bear.

For all have been cheated, swindled, betrayed, and finally perhaps these debts will be paid.

Let them come to the rock and each plead their case and accuse the old serpent right to his face.

For a man gets a trial as laid down by the pact,

even if that man's not a man

and the man's name

is Jack.

Well, hey there, family.

Welcome to season four of Old Gods of Appalachia, Root and Branch.

Now, it's been a while since we gathered here on the regular in the name of the darkest mountains in the world, and it's good to see y'all.

Whether you're kinfolk we've known from back in season one, or if you just stumbled upon us because of that fancy new role-playing game that just came out from Monty Cook Games, all y'all are welcome at the table as long as you behave.

Now, we've been busy since the last time we saw y'all at the end of season three.

Took the show out on a national tour, called it the price of progress, went all over the country.

East Coast, West Coast, down south, up north, Midwest, you name it, we were there.

So, special shout out if you happen to join us for one of those nights of music and fellowship and congregation.

So this season is a first for us, y'all, as in a way, we'll be picking up from the events of the previous season and carrying on from there.

So if you ain't caught up on season three, highly recommend you do that before joining us on the journey through season four.

Our man Jack is in a mighty sticky situation, and it's going to be a long and twisting ride to see where he ends up on the other side.

And we're real excited to have y'all along for the ride.

If y'all want to keep up with our comings and goings, we encourage you to head on over to old godsofappalachia.com and complete your social media ritual by following us on all the platforms of your choice, be it Facebook, Instagram, Discord, or the rotting corpse of that thing that was once called Twitter but is not.

If you'd like to join with us in a manner of financial as well as moral support, you can head on over to patreon.com slash old gods of Appalachia.

And for a reasonable sum, gain yourself access to hours and hours of exclusive Patreon storylines and other goodies.

And this is your beginning of Season 4 reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of Deep Nerd Media distributed by Rusty Quills.

Today's story was written by Cam Collins and performed by Steve Schell.

Our intro music, the brand's spanking new season four theme song, performed by Brother Landon Blood, and our special outro music, Atonement, is by John Charles Dwyer.

We'll talk to you soon, family.

Talk to you real soon.

With just

one name upon its lips

And the brance

won't bloom without its roots

The brance

won't bloom without its roots

The brance

won't bloom without its roots.

Surely it will show the rotten truth.

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Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratchers from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly.

Must be 18 years or older to purchase play or claim.

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