The Magnus Archives - RQ Network Feed Drop – Last Dance “S1E1 -Lesser Gods”

Episode Date: July 30, 2025

This month we are featuring a feed drop from Last Dance one of the brilliant shows that recently launched on the RQ Network. This is the very first episode from their first season called Lesser Gods. Last Dance is a Dark Fantasy Audio Drama which follows Jericho Raeke, a battlefield scavenger traveling in a godless world where your body is your temple. Forced to pick through the front lines of the most brutal war his home has ever known, the find of a lifetime drags him right into the centre of the conflict Last dance features a full cast of Northern Irish voices and features guest stars including “The Walking Dead's” David Morrissey, and James Mackenzie, best known for his role in CBBC children’s adventure game show, Raven, along with other great performersIntroduction and outro by Billie Hindle   You can listen to the next exciting episode of Last Dance by clicking on this link, or by searching for Last Dance wherever you find podcasts, or on the Rusty Quill website Credits Created by Blackabbey ProductionsStarring:Michael Ellen Sean as Jericho RaekeCaelan Stow as Cullen LathurnaRónán Hamill as Brother OrrEimear Lugh Devlin as Caelin AngaliAnd featuring Colette Hart as The DredgerAdditional voices:Andrew McCracken as FitzMax Blair as Temperer PreacherWritten and directed by Max BlairSound Design and Original Score by Mark McKibbinContent Warnings:Body horror (blood, vomit, burning) Graphic ViolenceSFX: Screaming, Squishing, vomitBad language Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hi everyone, it's Billy Hindle here. Today we are sharing an exciting episode from one of the podcasts on the RQ network, Last Dance. This is the very first episode from their first season called The Lesser Gods. Last Dance is a dark fantasy audio drama which follows Jericho Rake, a battlefield scavenger traveling in a godless world where your body is your temple. Forced to pick through the front lines of the most brutal war his home has ever known, the find of a lifetime drags him right into the centre of the conflict. Last Dance also features a full cast of Northern Irish voices and features guest stars,

including The Walking Dead's David Morrissey, James Mackenzie best known for his role in CBBC children's adventure game show Raven, and other great performers. Find other brilliant episodes in this series by searching for Last Dance, wherever you listen to podcasts. Click the link in the show notes or find more information at RustyQuill.com. Have fun and enjoy the episode. After Fundament. For over a millennia, we have lived isolated, alone. If there was one truth that we've all accepted,

it was that nothing lay north, east, or west of this place. Our great South. We were alone. Alone and free to squabble amongst ourselves. War has taken hold of this place for the first time in over two decades. We are scared. The Great South is no stranger to war, but we are used to fighting amongst ourselves. Revolutionaries overthrowing their spots, mountain folk slaughtering each other for territory.

Holy wars built on misunderstandings, little wars that always felt so big. We were alone, our little island, floating along in an endless and inhospitable sea, left to our own devices. And now a common enemy has landed on our shores. Ruthless invaders from the North have broken the Northern settlements without cause or demand. They bring with them rumors of new magics, the likes of which have never been heard of. Two months since their first conquest, the Great South now turns to the bleeding monks of the Eightfold House. The most ancient and powerful creatures to walk this land since the last days of the Fomorians. To hold back the endless tide of what we have come to know as Northmen. Even the Temporars, they are sworn enemies.

Look on, you know. Look inward now and ask yourself, if tomorrow is my last dance, where will my humours take me? Will temperance lay me down to the rocks, the trees, the moss, to be with nature once more? Or will Dicrasia bring me to the lowest bed of that hell we call ocean? Forsake the wanderer and take up arms within your own heart and without. Look not to the bleeding monks and their diacratic obsession with blood, but embrace your humours and equal measure. Let your phlegm give you the wisdom

to fight, let your blood run hot, let your gall build spite against your enemy and your black retain it to see you through. Know this and know it well. Salvation lies not in blood alone. Let them rot, I say. Let these Northmen cut them down and we'll see what's left standing at the end. Dead gods know that I won't be anywhere nearby when it happens. And at least I can cling to that you see Jericho rake as I live and breathe now what glorious bounty of you brought me today Colin I have been out there for three weeks and it is nothing but scraps. Can we get this over with?

Oh, hold your horses now, my favourite little scavenger. Now you are an artist and I for one would like to appreciate your art. Now, let's have a look. Ah, now here's why you're my favorite. Four, that's right, four bottles of precious Icor. Straight from the out-fold house. Few odd earrings, some kind of fetish and a dagger. It's a bloodletting knife. Followers of the monks, they use it. How much is it worth?

300 greater silver Fuck off I'm serious That's considered a relic in the islands and it's in good condition It's probably worth more I'll give you 200 for it 40 for the I-Core and ten for the odds and ends plus your supplement.

That's barely enough to last me a month on the road. Barely enough is still enough. The knife is worth more than that alone. Oh I believe you. Then pay me what it's worth. I'm not in the mood to play games, Colin. You'll do what you're fucking told. And you'll take what I give you. And you'll be thankful that I pay you at all.

Don't forget, I'm the only one this side of the Bylands that can get you this. Oh, and I am happy to remind you that you're more than welcome to die a slow, painful death whenever you want. All those gaps where your organs should be, finally catching up with you. Or I can keep giving you this wonderful bottle of black tar that fills in those gaps so nicely. So for now, you'll work for your supplement. And be happy that you're able to run freely at all. Alright. What was that?

I think I deserve a thank you. Thank you. Again. With some gratitude this time. Thank... you. Fitz, pay the man. Now, let's refocus. There's been some news while you've been a busy boy in the backroads.

The Eightfold House is dead. No one's writing any tombstones yet, but... Word is that the Abbey's been breached. That doesn't mean the monks are dead. People have been trying to kill them since the dawn of time. It can't be done. Oh, well I've got two deserters who swear they saw three of the Aitbein hung from the outer walls by Northmen. Aye, the Abbey's impenetrable for a start. And that's before you imagine hanging gods from towers.

Well that's just the thing. I wasn't forced though, one that day. The two deserters I was talking about. When we found them, they were halfway through trying to kill each other. We're raving about the other being something they called, uh, Changeling. Am I supposed to know what that is? Story goes the Northmen have a creature that can take on the form of other men without fault. That's how they've been carving through the Highlands so easily. They shut down the warts and opened the gates from within. Now by the time me and the troopers came across them, they'd gone mad thinking the other was

the changelin, had to tear the poor bastards off each other. That's not possible. Even magic has its limits. You can't mimic someone else's shimmers. No, no, no, not mimicking, taking, raping and pillaging. They eat your tongue and give your soul to the ocean or something to that effect. Fucked if I know the details, but don't worry, you're John this little head about that, my dear Rick. Just worry about keeping out the Northman's way and you'll be fine. Shouldn't be a problem for heading south. Ah, well there's the rope. We're not heading south quite yet.

You can't be serious. You're a battlefield, scavenger. This is quite possibly the most profitable battlefield there's ever been. The Highlands are awash with the riches of the dead. I'll never even get close to the Abbey. If the house has won, then they'll recover their dead and their relics, like they always do. And if the Northmen have won one they'll take everything for themselves.

Get it through your thick skull Scavvy. The Northmen have one so don't deal whether you believe it or not but there's nothing to say that they'll even know what they're looking for and you do. If the house has fallen then they'll probably have routed by the monks wood that'll be where the survivors have taken their relics it'll also be safer than going near the Abbey itself now there's my favorite little vulture using his noggin and the good news is the man just went up and supply just went down. Now we stand to make a lot more coin off of this.

There's his coin. Excellent. And my supplement. Ah, now there is something. See, I have been having a think. Colin, don't fuck about. You know I need it. Oh, I do, I do. And on any other day. This haul would earn you at least two bottles of that glorious black sludge that keeps your drum beating. It really would.

These are now... exceptional times. And the risk is high, so... I'm gonna have to motivate you to do some of your best work before I can give you any more. I apparently have enough in my system to get me to the Monkswood and back. I know, and that's why it's such a good motivator for you to work in a timely fashion. A timely death at the hands of savage northern raiders. It sounds like a much more pleasant end than having your humour slowly shut down.

To me, anyway. And the good news is that the price of I Cor has just doubled on a count of its makers suffering the news but you just give me 10 grittos for each bottle that is very true but you had no clue when you sold it to me but hey at least you know the new price now and we'll be here at the dog tooth for the next month but don't worry about us if you're not back we'll be sure to go on without you. Fuck you, Connor.

Smile, Rake! The world just ended. And the new one belongs to you. Misery follows me like a plague. Most of the days spent traveling north, I saw no one. And those I did were refugees and deserters who spat in my direction. They knew exactly why I was moving toward the source of their grief. To rob the corpses of their husbands, their daughters, their friends. Some nights I couldn't sleep for the weeping carried by the breeze, and all the while I saw not a single Northman,

just what they left behind. You have to understand that I am no mere scavenger. I'm indebted. Some would say I was born that way. Since I was old enough to be called a man, I was brought into slavery by means of harvesting. Where I'm from, you pay your taxes through means of bodily donation.

Vital organs are taken. And in exchange, you're given a supplement. A liquid that compensates for what was taken. It's alchemical recipe kept secret to those bound to it. Reliant on men like Cullen. Most who live in the Bylands will never see outside of the desert. But there are those of us you are permitted to wander, so long as we remain at the back and call of our distant masters.

Well, let's take a look at your friend. What have you got for me? Hopefully, more than the last. Yeah, you only got stabbed maybe... a few hours ago. You died here. But from the way you were slumped, I'd reckon you were wounded a ways back. But where's your killer? If there are so many Northmen, where did they all go?

Because I haven't seen a single one of them. Much less an unstoppable army. They didn't have any trouble running into you, did they? Or... running through you, dodging like this. So why haven't they picked up my trail? You're right, you're right, you're right. I should count my blessings. Questioning luck is the fastest way to lose it. That's a wise thing to say, friend. Thank you.

I wish your bodily possessions were worth as much as your wisdom, though. Because you've got fuck all on you. And that's a real shame. Because I'm getting weaker as the days go by. Because you've got fuckhole on you. And that's a real shame. Because I'm getting weaker. As the days go by. And I really need you to have something. But this ring might be what some scrubs. Usually I'd leave it with you, but I'm not left with much of a choice.

Not many of your friends made it this far away from the monastery. Most of you used up all of your supplies. I'm sorry, but I'll be needing it. Ah-ah! Draw! And I'll spill you quicker. Easy, now. Easy. Draw and I'll spill you quicker. Easy, Na. Easy. No need to spill me at all.

So what's going back in? Look. Good. But I am going to spill you. Let's talk about that then. See if we can change that. No, like to spill you. Soon. You speak my tongue well. We can talk. Yes, we talk before I spill you. In our tongue. What you have is me. Is mine. What you have is mine. Not me.

Yes. What you have is mine. Hmph. Well, as far as I'm concerned, you can show my words all you like. Wrong. I take word from you. Oh, wait. Correction.

I will take your words from you. You learn fast. I take fast. Important difference. So you're going to kill me then? Yes. Soon. But not now. I wish to watch, learn, speak. Like you did with Desmond. He died quick. You'll take longer.

More to learn from you. I'm just a scavenger. Hmm? I... I take what's left. Hmm? I... Ehh... I take what's left. Find things worth taking. I don't fight unless I have to. I am not a fighter.

Not like these men. I just want what they don't need anymore. You might be a northman, but you're not my enemy. Ardèche. Ardèche? Yes. Ardèche. Northman. Stupid name. Okay, okay. Ardèche. That's fine. Well, I am no trouble to the Ardèche. If anything, I'm thankful.

You long for death? No. But the monks that your people killed... They wronged a lot of people. We didn't think that they could die. We didn't think they could die. What? What?

No. What is that What? What? No. What is that you're doing? No. What is that you're doing? Have you gone mad? We didn't think they could die. We didn't think they could die. We didn't think they could die.

We didn't think they could die. We didn't think they could die. Aha! There it is! How did you do that? I'm like you. I pick things up that people don't need anymore. And what's that to do with how I speak? Ah, soon you won't need your words. Hmm, because I'll be dead? Ah, because you'll be dead.

And soon I'll do what you do. Find rings missing from fingers. That's an interesting gauntlet you have there. Never seen purple metal before. Looks like it's made from something else as well, is that right? Oh, you're buying yourself time, little scavenger. I will trade it to you. When we sailed east and west and finally south, I was a dredger. Collected things on the boats for this king and that king and every other king.

Now, just one king for one people. I used to man one of the great claws when they sent it down from the boat. Learned to talk with it when it dragged along the ocean floor. I guided it, and it guided me. I helped it drag up the bones of old Leviathans and listen to the secrets in the Marrow. And now? Now the claw is dead and I listen to its bones too. It tells me what to find, now that it guides my hand. It tells me what to cut, what to squeeze. It shows me things that you would miss.

Like him. Him. Look. Look. See how close you were. We didn't think they could die, he says. You spent too much time looking through pockets, and now you've missed the greatest prize of all.

Oh, look, look, and see how you stumbled across one. Look and see how you stumbled across one. Look and see how he is dead and gone. Forgotten. Is that...? Oh yes. Your bleeding monk. One of eight. The last of eight to die.

The last of eight to die. Watch now, as I drink deeply from his flesh wounds. Bear witness as I ascend to heights unfettered, drowned in power rendered sweet from your ignorance, oh little scavenger. To think that power could have been yours, Were your aspirations not so focused on the gutter? Move to me! And I will pluck your blade from the air.

And when I return it to you, your body will become its final sheath, placed vastly so that you might still bear witness before you pass. There's no reason for you to kill me. I will go my own way with this man's bag, and you I will go my own way with this man's bag and you will get no trouble from me. Oh, but I can kill you and so I must kill you. Such is my way. I have taken your words and now I will take your eyes. Watch. Watch as I ascend to something more.

Flee! It's alright, scavenger. You're safe for now. She will return for her prize. The leaves. What about them? They were green. And beautiful only yesterday. Woah, woah, woah. Hold on. Hold on. I'll get you some myself. See what I can do.

When the leaves grow back, they won't be ours anymore. No. Fuck's sake. Story goes that when the gods of death died themselves, as all the gods did, their faithful chose to uphold the fickle cycle of life and death. Their chief acolytes found the corpses of as many death gods as they could, gouged out their own eyes and replaced them with that of their gods, so that they might understand who must live and who must die to uphold the sacred balance of life and death?

The blind jurors. Those who still believed in those ways, chose to follow the word of the blind jurors, and became instruments of righteous death. To uphold the sacred duty, the blind jurors shared secrets of magic that were best left buried, and taught their devotees how to enchant their eyes as bleak mirrors of necessary death, sworn to wear a veil over them until such a time as they were needed. And so were born the Bleak Eyes, warriors who followed

whisperers in the wind to balance the scales of life and death. It's said that when you stare into a bleak eye they lock you into a frenzy that compels you to fight to the death no matter how guardly your soul might be. We call that fight the last dance, the time that comes without reason or warning, where you must stare your end in the face and meet with it faithfully. The belief is that you can run from an end or embrace it.

But the truth of the matter is that either way, you have to dance with it. A final and definitive point of change. Part of you might die. All of you might die. But something has to have its last dance. The Bleak Eyes are one agent of this change but sometimes the world itself feels compelled to make you dance. This is the thought I turn to when I find myself carrying the last bleeding monk on my back.

His holy blood running hot down my furrows. Colin's gonna go mad. He'll never believe me. Fuck! I might have to take the head. I should have brought another bottle, one for the North, one for him. Maybe one for me. Fuck. It won't work. You won't be able to bargain with my blood.

The second she realizes that it's useless to her, she'll kill you anyway. You underestimate my ability to bargain. You can't bargain with her kind. First chance she gets, she'll swipe it from your corpse and hang your innards on the nearest tree to prove a point. She might give your tongue to one of their changelings if you're lucky. Thought someone as exalted as you are would be better spoken. Suppose a few swords to the goddle wipe away their pretense. I'm only what men make of me, nothing more.

Right now, it looks like they've made you a deal, Fountain. If you're telling the truth, then I'm gonna have to figure out how to stop the bleeding. Even if I am enjoying the irony. Funny. But they also made me powerful. Powerful enough to save your life, scavenger. Do you have a name? Rick.

I'm not giving you my full name. Falk knows what you'll do with that. And, uh... You are Brother Orr, aren't you? The very same. Then what might I do with your full name? Command your soul out of your body for one last meal? What makes you think I need your name for that?

Funny. But I know enough about your powers to know your limits. And yet you still won't tell me your full name. Taking chances has rarely done me good. Well, don't take a chance then. You already said you know enough about my powers, which means you know they can save you. You're missing a canvas, Knight. I shouldn't be expecting her swooping in to save you

any time soon, should I? I doubt she'd give much quarter to someone as lowly as me. Alyssa. I hadn't even thought. So much for a bond deeper than life itself. A bond that ends in death. It is sorrowful, but I know she would have died in duty. She's your sworn protector. She shares that blood of yours.

Isn't her duty here with you? It was my request that she remain at the Abbey. To help in its defense. I would explain had we more time, but there is no one else that can interfere in this choice. So I save your life, hm? You kill that, that dredger thing, and then we go our separate ways?

No, it's too late for that. You need to do something more drastic. You need to drink my blood and save yourself. Come on, enough jokes. I'm serious, Rick. Everything I have, all yours. Drink deeply, just like the dredger was going to. The only difference is that it will work for you. Because you have something she doesn't. My permission.

There's no way. You're going to have to understand that this is happening to you and make the right choice. Soon. In just over five minutes I'll be dead. Hey, don't seem that close to that. I know it! Anatomical precognition, prediction and anticipation of the body, mine and yours. Magic beyond your wildest dreams, total freedom and power, unparalleled control over the most sacred and necessary of humours. You have four minutes to make your choice, but it can be yours.

Why would you give that to me? and necessary of humours. You have four minutes to make your choice, but it can be yours. Why would you give that to me? Because it's either you or everything I work to achieve in this life is snuffed out. Secrets older than the advent of time would be lost forever. I core that gives vitality to the meek, faith that gives hope to the hopeless. Knights akin to butchers who slaughter armies to the last man over semantic doctrine, Shrouded in secrecy, dripping with half-truths, Spewed at the unfaithful,

Executions for those you deem sorcerers, I call which saves lives, but makes them desperate for more. You're well-spoken, scavenger, but misled, as are many. But it doesn't matter what you think now. All I care about is that it lives on. What you do with it is your will. There's more to it than that. There has to be. Look at me!

Look, you stubborn child! You have little over four minutes until I die and my blood becomes powerless. The dredger was mistaken and I was all too happy to let her delude herself. When I die die so too does my power and you soon after. Your death will be a certainty and she will make it a slow one that drags your soul to the very lowest of hell circles.

How can I trust you? How can you expect me to make this decision so easily? What I offer is a gift free of strings. You best figure that out soon. What's the say your power hasn't left you already? You weren't strong enough to kill her before. You will be. What are you doing? There is no time for this. There is. I have to know you're real.

What will this do to me? What will it really do? It will give you everything I have. do to me? What will it really do? It will give you everything I have. Everything history has given the Eightfold House will be yours. Our powers, our secrets, our future in your hands. But what does it cost? The cost is that you bear it. The conditions of how are yours and yours alone to determine. Don't complicate them, lest you influence the process. Influence?

This has never been done before. But your suspicion is likely to cause complications, even I can't foresee. But what does that mean? It means your mental state is the only thing that could ruin this for you. Just accept a good thing that came your way. All you have to do is trust the process.

All you have to do is live with it. Bullshit. Magic always has a price. You need to hurry. What are you doing? Looking for this. Playing cards. Playing cards? In your likeness, no less. Here's you. The Jack of Blood. I am going to spare my blood on this card and hide it in the pack.

All you have to do is find it. Use your powers and pick out the card from your pack and prove to me that your powers still work. Prove to me that you really do weave fate. My legacy in the hands of a child's game. Humour me. So be it. I'm turning around. Can't have you watching the cards.

When you die, you die? You aren't going to possess me, are you? No. Don't even think that. Why? Because the process is influenced. What I didn't mention was the second card that I marked with my blood. Not my wisest decision, perhaps. Find it. You cheated. Choose. Right here,

right now. Fuck whatever predictions you've made. I want you to guess. I want to see what the world wants from this. Maybe there's another will that wants us both snuffed out. You die just to spite me. I die for less than that. Your blood can't fix what's wrong with me. Third from the left. Wrong. Guess we're both wrong. I... What's that? Last words?

Make them kind? I know I will. Listen... You're spanked for cunt! No! Come back! You don't get to do this. I don't remember when she reappeared. I don't remember leaving the cave, or what I did with the monk once he passed. Time was dragged away from me, stretched itself out, forced day into night into day into night.

I remembered my own birth, and my own death played a tenfold in front of me like some shimmerous pantomime. in front of me like some......humorous pantomime. My own body mocked me. And all at once, my loneliness became acute. It freed me in one moment and smothered me in the next.

My bile turned to acid that threatened to burn through my stomach. My bones ached as though their marrow had turned to ash. Every time I sucked in the air, thick clots of blood invaded my sinuses and suffocated me until I fell once again, face down, in the dirt. I must have thought I had died more than five times that night. And when I awoke for the fifth time, it was to the dredger's claw, dragging me through the moth. Come. Come, let's see you in the moonlight. How your blood dances black-blue against the midnight. Yes! Come on now. Let's see you took the blood yourself.

So green. But didn't drink deeply. Or drank too deeply. It hasn't taken! It's not enough! I didn't take you for a glutton. It's not working though. It's poisoning you.

I wonder why. I can't wait to do what you do. Take from place to place all the secrets that I want. And then drown the rest for no one to find. All for me. See, I'm a glutton all for me. See, I'm a glutton all the time. They like me that way. My lesser gods.

Oh, it's okay. I'm thankful for you. When they forced me onto land, when they melted my eyes bled. They turned my purpose to fixed the claw, but you gave me purpose. Now your bones can whisper to me too. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!

Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! When I heard Orr's voice again, I thought it was one last moment of delirium. That a madness had taken me and the voice of the Bleeding Monk was my own mind taunting me. Breaking itself against the tide of Orr's blood.

Maybe that is what happened. All I knew for sure was that whether it was his advice or my own, it was my only chance of survival. Don't react. Don't let her know you can hear me. Ardesh, Northman, feed on what you give them. Your words, your intonation, in battle, your movements. Use that.

Fine, Doreen. Fine. He speaks once more and speaks well. Honor is a southern concept. Fighting is best done in the dirt. You have given me a gift, dear scavenger. Good. She acts the maniac with her precision and magic beyond your understanding in that gauntlet. Look at her hand. See how it moves of its own volition? See how it searches the air? I see. See how it moves of its own volition? See how it searches the air?

I see. You see? Well, I am glad. She's precise. Smart. Use that. Bring her in. Swing. He swipes and claws in his death throes! She won't underestimate you until you sell your deception. Show yourself weak, vulnerable. Ignore the pain.

Stop. Now buckle at your left leg, just a little. Good that you struggle in the end. What pride it will be to take that blood from you. Good, good. She's noticing. Do it again. What pride it will be to take that blood from you! Good, good. She's noticing. Do it again. Subtly. Watch her eyes go to your leg. That's how you'll know. No. Come now. Stay standing for me. When she moves, she'll come for your weak side on the left. Faint at the last second. I can't. I'm too weak.

You can. You're not weak anymore. You're so powerful you can barely handle it. That's all this is. Oh, but you can. Just for a second longer. And now I see you. Truly. Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye. Take a second.

Breathe. Leave it, Rake. Rake! I don't know why I took that cursed gauntlet. That claw. Scavenger's instinct, I suppose. Still present in my head even when my brain hard turned to soup. Rake, you need to rest. I have to. I need it.

Not the blood. It's me. Rake! Come on. Rake! Rake! I must have walked for days in Delirium. I don't know where I went. What I did.

Must have killed more Northmen because I had more blood on me by the time they found me. And it wasn't mine. Hey! Hey, slow down there. You're okay. You're okay. I'm a temporer. I'm here to help. Spending the remedy upon that time, within the circles on tight, the circles of the

spirals, and the fight, the feast, the pressure. Shh, you're going to be okay. Rake! Let's get you somewhere safe off the road. Rake, you need to hear me again. Get away from them. Get away now. Rake. Let's get you somewhere safe off the road. Rake, you need to hear me again. Get away from them. Get away now. Come on.

Get away from them. Rake! To listen to the next exciting episode, you can click on the link in the description or search for Last Dance wherever you get your podcasts. Or you can find more information on RustyQuill.com. Thanks for listening.