Berries & Ink/Issues/Berries-03-06

Publication: Berries & Ink

Volume: 03

Issue: 06

Issue Date: September 1, 2026

Contributors: Eruwyn, Allye, Harkour, Shaoimhe, Valynn, Stelling, Crobin, Vendelt, Karatyna, Aedie, Nilme, Malkien

Editor: Illiya

You tap a pale blue paper. A blob of berry-red wax is affixed to the paper. It is imprinted with a plump strawberry nestled in a crown of delicate leaves. You gently open the folded paper.

[~* Soft light breaks across pale blue paper sky above a sun-drenched forest clearing with rain-streaked strawberries and inkpots framing the hand-lettered script: *~] Berries & Ink - Volume 3, Issue 6 [~* Editor's Note *~] Dearest Readers, It can take a surprising amount of courage to simply pause, catch our breath, make peace with where we've been, and decide how to carry ourselves forward. We are all searching for something, aren't we? A safe harbor to drop anchor, or simply the courage to step forward together into what comes next. Whatever you are carrying today, I hope you find a place to rest here. We are ecstatic to welcome our newest contributor, Malkien, who sparks an exhilarating debate on the evolution of Barbarian tradition and the unyielding nature of Inner Fire. Meanwhile, Aedie continues her urgent and marvelously unhinged warning against the dangers of mimes, while Nilme pens a gentle love letter to the peaceful shores of Aesry. Alongside them, our beloved roster of returning writers brings their signature magic: Eruwyn, Allye, Harkour, Shaoimhe, Valynn, Stelling, Crobin, Vendelt, and Karatyna. None of this exists without you holding these pages. Thank you for your continued readership, your letters, and your shared love for the stories we weave. As the seasons shift and the world turns, may your hearth be warm, your tea cup full, and your journeys lead you to a place that feels like coming home. Faithfully yours, Illiya [~* A heartfelt thank you to our sponsors, Lexxa, Northern Watch, Praxium, Guildleader Qij, and totally not Mahtra *~] [~* Twin apple tree branches abloom with pale pink petals embrace the words "Guess Who? by Eruwyn Cholares" *~] A stout Human male sits on a long bench beside a charming little pond. His fair-skinned oval face holds thoughtful silver-flecked green eyes and a classical nose with a dab of ink smeared across the tip. The culprit appears to be the quill held in the hand his chin rests in, his focus on a sheet of paper upon his knee where illegible scribbles can barely be seen. Wind tousled blue-black hair is cut short, the locks showing just a hint of curl. Resting against the bench next to him is a war shield resplendent with a lion's paw, while a shadowy pile of plate armor lies behind. His strong frame is clad in a simple but well-made outfit of varied blues. (Last issue's portrait: Imroth. Winner: Illiya. MAIL in your guess for this month! The winner will be revealed next issue.) [~* Myths of the Mouse: The Nemesis, by Allye Karayilma *~] Down in the workroom, the air was dank and heavy. Yesterday's mouse skeletons waited in a tidy row as he donned his little black robes and consulted the grimoire. A pinch of grave dust, twelve iridescent beetle wings, one properly sinister incantation. Green fire fizzed. Tiny bones rattled upright. "Excellent." His satisfaction was promptly jolted with startle as one of the skeletons darted forward and stole his house slipper off of his foot. The revenant creature chittered contentedly and gnawed upon its prize. The Necrohamster sighed. There were drawbacks, certainly, to being a master of death. [~* One Year So Long and So Short: Autumn Ends by Harkour Navarre *~] Lords remain behind In the keep newly won Soldiers march home Dismissed from battle done Each step feels heavy And the destination far Dreaming of a reunion At a home under distant star Bandaged wounds ache Dulled from time passed Ghosts join the parade Alone I walk with ghasts To my right my friends Who will never return home To my left my enemies The same lesson they know Fields turn familiar Drawing closer to you Graffiti scorch marks Paint the buildings in view At last I arrive at our house Needing only to find you there A stranger waiting to greet me Yet your eyes look and stare [~* A tiny cartoonish tart carrying a bindle walks atop the words "The Traveling Tartling by Shaoimhe Bramblebairn" *~] I braved another boat this month, and you know what? It was worth it! And at the end, there were a lot less pirates...and a lot more Moonies. That's right, I went to Throne City! I won't say it's the, um, prettiest town around. But it was at least interesting! AND!! It had a bathhouse. (I told you I'd find one.) There was also a place to get the most amazing bread and cheese. I ate SO much bread and cheese. I learned a lot of history. Too much history. And I did have to evade some thugs. Also let's be honest - Moon Mages are a bit of an odd bunch. But overall it was quite the fun experience! It gets the SheShe stamp of approval for sheer entertainment value. [~* Eat This, Not That by Valynn Aehre *~] Eight Elothean Houses, surely a tea-lover's paradise brimming with rare blends. I was wrong. Three welcomed non-members with tea, a fourth was rumored to hoard a blend I could not taste behind member-only doors. One house swapped tea for fruit, sweets, and other drinks. Most offered open gardens and wandering among the flora became the real treat of the trip. One house traded tea for temptation, an exquisite covellite fan set with a cambrinth cabochon for the wielder's magic. An exception to my experience, House of the Steel Dove. No tea, no garden, just a stark fortress face. Hardly surprising as this house forges the finest Elothean paladins and barbarians and the Ferdahl's own guard. * The take away, never assume what's behind a door until you knock. I came for tea and left with a bouquet, a fair trade for assumption. [~* Bottles and flasks sprout from thorny vines encircling the title "Measured Pours by Stelling Constalon" *~] Let's talk about the way To truly get drunk, Challenger drinks! Those'll really put you on your rump Used to be quite rare, but now they abound A few are near and dear to me And that is what this column is for! My old standby, the enormous whiskey bottle Smoky fire, sweet and bitter chocolate, so good Have you tried the zuoganaas In lovely kelp-wrapped chilled bottles? Liquid fire with just the right amount of sweet Those Merelew surely know how to brew Best fun to be had though Red mug of hot cocoa? The richest of chocolate And ohhhhh that peppermint schnapps [~* The Adventures of Lavacano Gator, Ch. 26: Helping Hands by Crobin Yuanfen *~] Crossing still bore the scars of the invasion. Broken stalls, shattered fences, and piles of stone lined streets Lavacano had nearly died protecting. Still recovering himself, Lavacano began spending the hours between training helping with repairs. He hauled lumber, cleared rubble, and carried whatever his small frame could manage. Some townsfolk watched him cautiously, but Lavacano paid them little mind. There was work to be done. While struggling to repair a damaged market stall, an older craftsman watched him wrestle with a crooked board. Finally, the man sighed and held out a hammer. "If you're going to help, might as well do it right." Lavacano took it with a grin. For the rest of the afternoon, goblin and craftsman worked side by side. Neither noticed when the wary stares around them slowly disappeared. [~* The Dark Dyaus, Ch. 6: Tenebran and the Price of Knowing by Vendelt *~] I spent the better part of the next day horizontal, staring at the ceiling and taking stock. Ribs, sore. Pride, worse. Before I'd made it home that night I'd stopped long enough to point a guardswoman toward the alley and let that be somebody else's problem in an official capacity. Small mercies. The lead had been a dead end dressed up as an answer, and I'd paid for the privilege of finding that out the hard way. I had a question still owed an answer and a case that hadn't gotten any warmer while I was busy bleeding on somebody else's cobblestones. By evening the ceiling had gotten dull enough. I pulled my cloak around me, my ribs yelled at me for that transgression, and stepped back out into the Leth Deriel night. When the answers don't come to find you, you have to go looking again. [~* Aether and Whiskers - The Prowl and the Peril by Karatyna *~] My Lady was snoozing, fast asleep on the rug Safe in her bedroll, all cozy and snug I looked at Lord Crow with a flick of my tail 'Let's go on a mission that never can fail!' He flapped with a hop and let out a caw, 'We'll patrol through the guild and lay down the law!' I scampered ahead on my fearless four paws To guard all the slippers from terrible claws We raided the pantry and sniffed at the tea As brave as two heroes could possibly be! A spider crept out with a menacing stare Sir Chomps and Lord Crow gave the villain a scare! We made our way back as she opened her eyes Unaware of the duo that saved her supplies She gave me a scratch as I let out a squeak The boldest companions to finish the week! [~* The Quiet Threat to Elanthia by Aedie, Cleric of Meraud *~] To understand the rot at the heart of the mime's craft, we must look to their bizarre and unnatural origins. They do not arrive by caravan, nor do they walk through our town gates as honest travelers. No, they are birthed from the dark, mechanical wombs of rogue box traps. We have all seen the unfortunate box pickers opening discarded crates and coffers, only to trigger a spring-loaded mechanism that unleashes a curse. It is from these very containment vessels that the mimes emerge -- compressed, unnatural entities born of a localized pocket dimension, designed to baffle and torment the living. They are literally the manifestation of a trap given human form! They seize the soul of the trap springer and force them to quiet servitude! Wake up, Elanthia! The enemy is in the box! [~* Framed by tiny rosebuds tinged in the diluted hues of a sunrise are the words "Beckoned by Nilme Iondu'il" *~] Cool winds and sea air are calling my name, Calling me, "Come out to Aesry!" My little white cottage sits patiently there In the Meadowlands, where the lane climbs up sharply. Through my window, the mists of Lake Cha'walkas, Or, on clear days, the white rim of the isle. My quill moves more freely in the cool island air Aesry Surlaenis'a, you've waited a while. When the wind whispers music from the Rua'tin Peri'el I can breathe, and there's nothing I lack. After I've written, I say goodbye to its shores, But Surlaenis always welcomes me back. Cool winds and sea air are calling my name, Calling me, "Come out to Aesry!" [~* The Philosophies of Flame by Malkien Pinav-Sedra *~] "Fixed motion. Practice until your body moves without thought." - Melcorek, developer of the Cobra Dance. Abandon Externality. Seek Within. For centuries these philosophies were the bedrock of the Barbarian Guild, martial practices as inflexible as their founding principles. Do you command the unrelenting rage of the Berserker, mighty Dwarf Chieftain Gorathrumal lost to a fury as consuming as Everild himself? Do you embrace the serene vision of the Steel Claw elves of old, Telfogli the unrelenting Badger, weaving a fluid Dance of slaughter with composite bow and claymore? Dance OR Berserk: which path forward? Gor'Tog brawlers with legends of the Silver Leopard. Rathan knife-fighters enduring the rage of shark's teeth: all had different answers. The formalization of guild structure meant a mingling of Clan traditions, martial schools, and combat sects. Why Dance OR Berserk? Can the nimble anti-magic footwork of the Leth-developed Swan combine with the vociferous intimidation of the Cyclone? Flame, it turns out, does not conform to fixed paths, but goes whence the fuel commands. So, too, with Inner Fire. The cessation of fixed forms has meant a revolution: mixed martial arts, new techniques (channel the fire into a furious War Stomp), even a whole new school of martial thought (meditations)! What happens if we light the Fire brighter? Researchers like Tusfaov tell us we are mere steps on the path of Flame, a mere nibble of the Horde's power. We are but embers, and before us is a pyroclastic maelstrom of Purity. [~* Thank you for reading! Look out for more juicy bites in the next issue! *~]