Esteemed writer and interviewer Tolly Johnson grills local D&D podcast host about his political beliefs, religious ideals, glaring continuity errors and the very nature of storytelling itself. They also happen to be dear friends.

This special episode of The Barmy Balladeers podcast is hosted by writer, director, filmmaker and Dungeon Master Samuel Ptolemy Johnson. It also features DM of The Barmy Balladeers podcast Ted Collins.

The episode was edited by Kit Oliver, with sound design and music provided by the wonderful Standard License libraries over at Zapsplat and Pixabay.

The king is dead. Ted has been deposed, slain, exiled, abdicated, anything that can or must be done. Now the players remain, eager in their malice and treachery to spill those terrible secrets of the realm upon the cairn stones of your favourite podcasting app. Rise, Bilberforth of Nicholls, Kristofer of Oliver, and Elias Weaver of local hobbycraft shops. Your time is now. Sic Semper Tyrannus Est.

This special episode of The Barmy Balladeers podcast is hosted by writer, director, Dungeon Master and friend Samuel Ptolemy "Tolly" Johnson. It features Elias Weaver as Elias Weaver, Kit Oliver as Kit Oliver and Billy Nicholls as Billy Nicholls. Editing and sound design by Kit Oliver, provided by free-to-use open source libraries.

We sincerely hope you enjoy.

"How deep into the mirror do your darkest fears lie? Are they there upon your face, or just behind the eyes? Do they rest in boxes long forgotten, covered in dust and elm wood rotten?

Some day, the running will end and you will see that the mirror is nothing but glass. Perhaps by then, you will know yourself. Perhaps by then, I will know myself.

I hope. I hope. I hope.

One day I will tell this tale for the last time and the Mortimers will know that every triumph was a tragedy in waiting, and every tragedy a triumph of fate. One day, they will know as much as I do, and I shall know as much as them. I hope - as always - that she will remember me.

But until that day... a cardinal flies overhead. The streets smell like rain. My old hands are the youngest they will ever be. There are beautiful things to write about. At times like this, the joy is not so misty."

- From the diaries of the poet Lorenzo.