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<?xml version="1.0" ?>
<rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
<channel>
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<atom:link href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
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<title>BASEMENT QWEST</title>
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<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
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<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
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<item>
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<title>39</title>
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<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
<guid isPermaLink="false">39 - Sat, 19 Nov 2022 07:38:02
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-0700</guid>
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<pubDate>Fri, 25 Nov 2022 07:11:12 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00039">00039</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Alex silently observes the party and this foolish hobbit,
before him three untouched drinks have accumulated. Hes a
little less enthusiatic about taking drink from strangers, too
much risk in that. As Blavin describes this crystal, whatever
it may be, he catches a glimpse of the pinkish purplish
armband on the party across from them. They dont look out of
place given the patrons at the tavern, but hes certain they
were listening in on the animated conversation of the hobbit.
It could be nothing, or it coule be connected to Corraidhin,
best to put a bug on them Alex thinks.</p>
<p>Silently beneath the table and out of site Alex prepares a
bug and sets it off to follow the person with the armband.
Once the bug catches up to the part its programmed to perform
a tcpdump and capture information streaming around it, and
then report back to Alex once full. By no means a perfect
method of spying, but its low energy and can be maintained
from great distances without taxing Alexs energy.</p>
<p>As Blavin comes back to the group from his grandoise space
commentary Alex begins to question him.</p>
<p>Enough of your theatrics hobbit. Tell me about the mark,
youve obviously tipped off the entire tavern as to the
whereabouts of whatever it is youre looking for, so give us
an edge, something those evesdroppers a table over dont have.
And cut this tripe about your benefactor, who is he, and what
does he want with this magical baubbles.</p>
<p>As Alex finishes his questions he sits quietly for a moment
staring down Blavin.</p>
<p>During this outburts, as all eyes turn to Blavin for his
response, Alex casts yet another bug. This one sneaks onto the
personage of Blavin himself. Programmed the same way.</p>
<p>Well get information from someone, subtle, or not if
needed.</p>
2022-11-07 16:00:08 +00:00
</blockquote>
2022-11-13 00:12:18 +00:00
<p>~</p>
2022-11-07 19:05:45 +00:00
<blockquote>
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
<p>Inky watches with faint amusement as a magical device,
likely a probe, found its way onto their mission handler.</p>
<p>Inky might have missed the slight movement under the table
if they werent waiting for it, having received word of the
younger wizards penchant for pre-emptive offence magic. As it
were, the offices and surrounding premises were routinely
swept for similar devices, a more recent example of which had
been placed in plain sight by an overzealous tabloid writer
hoping to pick up an exclusive reveal. The quality of the
contraption, which had immediately fallen apart when detached
from its gum adhesive on the back of a glass vase, had been
almost insulting.</p>
<p>It seems Blackfoot hadnt learned his lesson after all, and
if Alex was keen to give him a reminder, Inky had no
objection. As Blavin takes another swig from his sixth drink
of the evening, the waitress smiling at him with a wink as she
set down their glasses before skating away to take another
order (Inky made sure tip her liberally for the attentive
service), Inky let their line of sight flicker to a
fuchsia-coloured band on a departing customers arm.</p>
<p>Inky smiles internally at the sight — they can almost hear
Beakers crow of dismay. The poor kingfisher had been under
increased pressure of late from other scientific associations
and prominent speakers to exclude BAND from presenting at one
of the largest annual ornithology conferences of the year on
accusations of spreading misinformation and junk science in
addition to attempting to erase the history of native bird
tribes. There had been a huge row, which ended with the
BANDits storming off, yelling about “the proof being crystal
clear” and that they will bring “ancient arcane evidence”. The
Alcedinian researcher had lamented the halcyon days when
conferences were avenues for scientific exchange, not
twittering soapboxes. Not that anyone who had ever tried to
arrange any gathering of birds of a feather really thought
things simply glided along smoothly before. However, the
advent of dedicated carrier pigeon networks had made it easier
to relay research to and from smaller communities, opening the
pathways for their participation, including a few somewhat
Controversial fringe groups like BAND.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Alex attempts to shake down the hobbit, who titters merrily
at his demands.</p>
<p>“You know nearly everything I do, dear! Your <em>mark</em>
as you put it,” Blaven theatrically drops his voice as he
looks around for eavesdroppers, “would be the zephynos of
Kelsun Peak should you choose to go that route.</p>
<p>“If you choose to go to the moon, youll have a harder go
of it,” he frowns. He flips the map over and draws four
circles in a straight line. They have the proportions of a
grapefruit, an orange, a tangerine, and an orange. He jabs a
finger at the grapefruit. “This is us, here, earth.” He points
at the two oranges and the tangerine. “And these are our
planets moons.” He points to them in order. “Selene, the
Green Lady. Moonmoon. And Lua, the Red Lady. Recently, as you
well know, we had a super eclipse in which these four bodies
and the sun all lined up in perfect alignment. The combined
magnetic pull of the spheres allowed a rare commingling of the
ionic spheres, and our instruments were able to detect the
crystal somewhere out there in space. If I were to bet on it,
I would put my money on Lua.” He points to the farthest moon,
the Red Lady, with its own tiny satellite, Moonmoon. He looks
up at you and explains, “Shes far enough away that her
ionosphere would never make contact with ours except for in
this particular, rare circumstance. Thats why the crystal has
escaped our detection for so long.”</p>
<p>“As for the Benefactor!” He brightens up. “Hes a
magnificent fellow as you well know! A renowned collector. His
wishes are to preserve the crystals and protect them (and us!)
from their misuse or mishandling! He has a hot tub!” he winks
at you. “Speaking of crystals,” he adds as an afterthought,
taking another sip of his drink, “why dont you hand that
crystal over to me and Ill deliver it to the Benefactor. That
is what hes paying you for after all!”</p>
2022-11-19 01:14:31 +00:00
<!--
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on the Ornithologer Trio
4, 5 = Mixed Success
2022-11-19 01:14:31 +00:00
//-->
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
<p>The Ornithologers Trio leaves Lucys Basement quite
oblivious to their bug. The Ornithologer turns out to be the
orator of their little group, ranting about the conspiracy,
the attempted cover up, about how Big Science wants to
convince you that birds are dinosaurs but theyre just pulling
the wool over your eyes. The truth is right there in the
fossil record for crying out loud! All you have to do is look
for yourself. Nobody these days wants to <em>think</em> is the
problem. They just get their information from the authorities
and take it as gospel, but they dont see that the authorities
have adopted a narrative that suits their own ends.</p>
<p>At which point the groll interjects and asks what is the
end goal of Big Science, and how exactly does convincing the
proletariat that birds are dinosaurs help achieve it?</p>
<p>The BANDit scowls and answers, Look, you just dont get it,
okay!</p>
<p>The three split up and go their separate ways and disappear
into the night.</p>
<p>You learn the following, one of which is true, one of which
is false, and one of which is meaningless.</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p>BAND plans to intercept the CRYSTAL of VOID and use it
to petition the Insatiable Wyrm for definitive proof that
Birds Are Not Dinosaurs. In this way they shall shame their
fellow paleornithologists and earn their rightful place at the
table of Big Science, which they have spent decades
undermining.</p></li>
<li><p>The Gnu Zealots intend to reverse engineer the power of
the crystals, create a newborn godling, and then release their
findings, thus laying the foundation of the worlds first
truly open source religion</p></li>
<li><p>The trio seeks the crystals not at all, but in fact
search for Sitopotnia, creator and progenitor of the entire
amaizeon race—including corbits, aurs, centaurs, and
others—and the only mortal in the history of Basmentaria to
successfully take the mantle of creation from the
overgods.</p></li>
</ol>
2022-11-15 15:16:54 +00:00
<!--
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on Blaven
1, 3 = Things go poorly, gain 1 xp
2022-11-15 15:16:54 +00:00
//-->
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
<p>Meanwhile, Blaven slips out into the early, early morning
carrying his own bug. He whistles tunelessly to himself as he
sails down the street with a wide and veering but surprisingly
steady gait.</p>
<p>Once he gets a few blocks away, his gait narrows and his
step becomes more lively, a bit jaunty. He stands upright and
ceases whistling. All signs of drunkenness disappear as he
tugs on his sleeves and straightens his vest, and runs a hand
through his hair.</p>
<p>He meets a goblin catcher in the street going the other
way, wearily making his way home after a long nights work. He
wears a tiny goblin in a glass jar around his neck, as is the
signifier of his trade. And he carries over his shoulder a
large cloth sack, the contents of which writhe and kick. Looks
like it was a productive night for our goblin catcher! Blaven
gives him a little bow and a salute, laughs, and pats him on
the back in passing, deftly transferring the bug. “Good night
for it then ey?” he calls cheerily. The goblin catcher smiles
politely, mumbles a nicety, and carries on.</p>
<p>Later, hidden safely away from spying eyes and listening
ears, Blaven sits at his desk, putting the final flourishes on
a missive. He sits back and re-reads it to himself, lips
moving silently. He nods and smiles, satisfied, and reaches
for a stamp to sign the letter. He presses it into a dark red
ink pad and then onto the parchment, leaving the image of an
apple and iris. He sands the paper, carefully folds it, and
places it in an envelope.</p>
2022-11-15 01:28:58 +00:00
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
2022-11-25 14:13:40 +00:00
<p>Note: Feel free to back up and play out some more
conversation at Lucys before Blavin leaves if you want
to.</p>
<p>Options on the table:</p>
<ul>
<li>To the mountains!</li>
<li>To the moon!</li>
<li>Something else!</li>
</ul>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00103.html">www</a></p>
2022-11-15 01:28:58 +00:00
]]>
</description>
</item>
2022-11-27 09:26:25 +00:00
<item>
<title>40</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">40 - Sun, 27 Nov 2022 01:30:42
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 14 Dec 2022 05:41:15 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00040">00040</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>As Blavin finished his afterthought about handing over the
crystal, a yelp was the only warning they heard before a young
waiter was suddenly half-sprawled over the hobbit, a tray of
ginger beers toppled from his hand and the mugs contents
splashed onto the hobbits front, though fortunately some of
it ended up in a large puddle on the ground rather than on
Blavins person. The waiter had tripped over a bag on the
floor on his way to the table two over from theirs and was
scrambling to his feet.</p>
<p>“By Nullars nuts, I— OH SH——!! S-s-sorry, sir! Hold on,
l-lemme get— uh—” the waiter looked around frantically. The
waitress who had brought their drinks rushed over with some
clean dry towels, a few of which she handed to the other
waiter, and they both proceeded to wipe and dab at Blavins
damp clothes amid the hapless waiters babbled apologies.
Under the cover of the towels, the waitress patted down the
hobbits vest and replaced the sheaf of papers she had
covertly lifted from one of the vest pockets earlier with a
beguiling smile and wink. Once the beer on the floor had been
cleaned up (the despondent young waiter had offered to pay for
Blavins next two rounds of drinks) and the waiters had moved
on to serve other customers, Inky spoke.</p>
<p>“You dont mind that we prefer to deliver it to the
Benefactor personally, of course,” Inky piped cheerily,
referring to the crystal. “The late wizard thought it was
prudent to cover our bases since youre a new, untested case
manager after all. Besides, a little delayed gratification
never hurt anybody, did it?” Inky smiled and raised their
drink. “Another toast in tribute to Master Corraidhín! May his
courage and buoyant spirit guide us on our next mission!”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>When Inky stepped out of the tavern and was a few paces
away, someone clattered through the door and called out, “Hey!
You forgot your takeout!”</p>
<p>Inky turned in the direction of the voice. It was the
waitress who had served their table earlier. She waved a brown
paper bag in one hand. Inky gave her an embarrassed smile and
said, “Thanks.” As the bag changed hands, the waitress mouthed
soundlessly, <em>Well report any more.</em> She went back
inside, and Inky strolled off into the cool night air with the
bag securely tucked away next to a tea pouch and a more
pressing question: what blend would go best with fried
tofurkey balls?</p>
<p>~</p>
<p><em>(Meanwhile)</em></p>
<p>“The BANDit and his associates had gone to the tavern.” His
assistant looked up from the scrap of paper held under a
claw.</p>
<p>Beaker heaved a sigh and rubbed the tips of one wing
against his forehead. Surely he had better things to do than
play Eye Spy over a bunch of crackpots, such as peer reviewing
the latest draft of a paper on the development of Cerylidian
hunting techniques for an upcoming issue of <em>The
Ichnition</em>. But Cio seemed to think something may come of
it and unfortunately, she was usually right about
troublemakers.</p>
<p>“Tell them to continue tailing from a distance,” he replied
with a distracted wave, and his assistant left the room.</p>
<p>Anyway, if he had the spare time, he could look at more
interesting things, like the data he had collected surrounding
the disappearance of the time anomaly that had popped up a few
weeks ago. It had happened gradually, and he still wasnt
entirely sure what had caused this particular incident, but
the signals picked up by his instruments had later faded, just
like other ones before it. Still, it was comparatively larger
than previous ones, and seemed to have taken slightly longer
to dissipate, which meant more data points.</p>
<p>He stole another glance at his Dat repositories before
sighing again, swivelling his chair and attention back to the
manuscript before him. Work first … then more work.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The party dispersed after the discussion with Blavin.
Nobody had wanted to relinquish the crystal to him, personally
Alex felt that was prudent, though he still wasnt sure what
the point of it all was. The foolish hobbit had blathered on
and on about their “mark” tactfully ignoring the real
questions. And then the bug, damn it, the bug that chittered
on about absolutely nothing for hours. It didnt take Alex too
long to figure out why, but he clung to the transmission until
it died out hoping hed be mistaken.</p>
<p>So there he sat, in the attic of his once Uncle, staring
bleakly into a cup of dark black coffee. The desk strewn with
hastily scratched notes pulled from the bugs feeds. At least
the one that had tracked that nosey group had proved somewhat
helpful. Turns out this little group has less friends than a
drunk whos run up their tab.</p>
<p>Still, theres no point to share any of this information.
Its too loose, not definitive enough to action with the
group.</p>
<p>Alex begins to pen a message to an fellow operative, in
hopes that HQ will pick it up and assign someone to the
task.</p>
<pre><code>&lt;- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
-&gt; OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
CLEARANCE: SECRET
PACKET ENCLOSED. YOUR EYES ONLY.
REQUESTING DETAIL ON BLAVIN
EMPLOY OF &quot;THE BENEFACTOR&quot;
PERCEPTIVE, AWARE OF BUGS.
DO NOT CONTACT, DO NOT DISRUPT
EXTREME CAUTION IMPERATIVE.</code></pre>
<p>Once penned Alex encrypts it with GPG and sends it along.
These channels have worked well for him in the past. If Blavin
wants to play games, then games we shall have.</p>
<p>“I hate to do this” Alex mumbles to himself. “Normally Id
trail him myself, but I dont think I have much say in the
matter.” As it stands the group is dead set on gathering more
of these cyrstals, regardless of what the danger may be, and
if Alex wants to find his Uncle, theyre his best bet in doing
so. Blavin doesnt even matter outside of that. But if he can
help the group reach their end faster, or force the
information out of Blavin, perhaps it can come sooner..</p>
<p>Alex lets out another sigh and glances wistfully around the
gloomy attic room. It looked just like he remembered his
Uncles office looking like at the College of Sysorcerery when
he had taught there. He always was so particular. Pushing his
chair away and grabbing his coffee he wanders to the bookshelf
where a large steamer chest sits beside it. The bookshelf is
covered in manuscripts, “Practical Common Lisp”, “The C
Programming Language Vol 2”, “RHEL 5 Systems Administration”,
each one arcane and well worn. And the amount of volumes,
sometimes its a wonder Corraidhin had time to do anything
other than read.</p>
<p>“Maybe if I had been a little more studious Id know how to
help you..” as he pulls “A Guide to Backups and All Things
Necessary” off of the shelf a knife falls out of the book, and
clatters onto the floor glaring malevolently up at Alex.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your gondola lift finally rises above the thick layer of
clouds. The sudden flash of clear blue sky is a revelation
after ascending for nearly 60 minutes through clouds so thick
you couldnt see through the foggy windows more than three
feet. Above you towers rocky, imposing Kelsun Peak. You can
just see a tiny portion of the hotel roof through a cleft in
the rocks. Below you, a frozen turbulent ocean of clouds
dotted with twisting leaning spires and spiraling branching
towers, all made out of solid cloudstuff. Handiwork of the
whimsical and industrious zephynos.</p>
<p>You spot two or three of them now, leaping and diving
playfully through the clouds like dolphins, spinning the
clouds like yarn, and packing them into solid constructs.
Their current project resembles a garden of outlandish,
distorted tubas, french horns, and trombones.</p>
<p>The small cloud dragons are about 6 - 8 feet long including
their thick tails. They have wide faces with round lidless
eyes, and always seem to be smiling. Their heads are topped
with multiple pairs of filamented stalks. They have six short,
stubby arms with long thin fingers that they use to knead and
pull clouds into solid shapes.</p>
<p>They build ceaselessly and mostly for the sake of building:
they have no apparent need for the structures themselves,
living as they do floating among the clouds. On occasion they
have been entreated to build on behalf of others. And the rare
floating palace or city can still be found drifting around
Basmentaria as a result. The great city of VayNeddas—tethered
to the ground by great chains to Primora in the north and
Agendell in the south—is one of their greatest enduring
works.</p>
<p>You approach the gondola station at the base of Kelsun
Peak, and exit your cable car as it slowly rounds the
bullwheel. There are two toques—presumably meant to be
operating the lifts—standing off to the side, ignoring their
responsibilities, complaining loudly to nobody and everybody
about being forced to work long hours and being unfairly
compensated. The tips of their soft, conical heads slump
forward, calling to mind revolutionaries, or smurfs.</p>
<p>It is wicked cold as you step out onto the platform and the
wind nips and bites at you relentlessly.</p>
<p>At the edge of the platform, foggy white steps made of firm
cloudstuff climb up around the side of the mountain peak to
the Palace Runesocesius. Once the conspicuously extravagant
residence of one of Basmentarias most powerful politicians,
it has since—after its owner fell from public favor and was
routed out—been gutted and transformed into a luxury hotel of
equally conspicuous extravagance. It continues to be one of
the highest inhabitable places on Basmentaria.</p>
<p>Two small toques at the base of the steps rush forward to
meet you—the floppy tips of their coneheads waggling side to
side in their exuberance—and introduce themselves as
Confidence and Bread, your guides. They have been instructed
to guide you up to Runesocesius where you will take posession
of the Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00186.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
2022-11-19 01:14:31 +00:00
<item>
<title>38</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">38 - Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:25
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:35 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00038">00038</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>The mission, party-wise, had been an abject failure.</p>
<p>They had found the crystal, and Master Corraidhín had
vanished. Inky wasnt sure which was worse — the appalling
lack of water-resistant fireworks surrounding the
disappearance, or the bears ceaseless waterworks in grief
over their ghostly counterparts. Said bears plus a giant manta
ray were eventually left with the remains of Inkys two snack
stashes. (The third was back on the <em>Diamond Howler</em>.)
The crystal was currently securely hidden away inside the Milk
Market, which was for the best. Inky was not about to drag
around an inedible melon that could potentially level entire
cities, if the wizards hints about its power were true. The
crystal-retrieval missions were a cover anyway — Inky had
gotten what they were looking for. The equipment and
provisions sponsored by the Benefactor were a handy bonus
though.</p>
<p>Inside the tent, Inky adds the finishing flourishes to a
package and places it to one side, next to two others of a
similar size and a thin envelope already piled inside a padded
sack on the ground. The client should be pleased. It had taken
longer, but the result had been worth the additional hassle.
The envelope, on the other hand … who knew what had become of
the previous one, sent in an impulsive fit of post-dive haze
once the ship had docked at the port town. Donning a grey
fedora, a worn light brown jacket, a flask kettle and a wooden
box with carrying straps, Inky the “Tiny” tea seller leisurely
sets off for the post office, sack in hand.</p>
<p>It was still a bit strange — if less shocking than the
first time it happened — to speak in rabbiton with the
postmistress at the counter, although Inky couldnt actually
detect any significant differences from the common tongue
besides occasionally being reminded they shouldnt be able to
understand the sounds at all. Rabbiton or rabbitoff, hare mail
couriers are among the fastest across Basmentaria and will
ensure any parcels and letters arrive at their recipients in a
timely manner. Due to their broad network and high delivery
confidence, letters without return addresses were no issue;
they can deliver with a valid recipient address, which they
are able to verify from an extensive series of registries and
course codes before taking the item. So it was that one such
envelope containing yet another somewhat unusual recipe was
promptly delivered to the Milk Markets ground floor on a
blustery Boltday afternoon.</p>
<p>Postage done, Inky wanders through one of the citys
seedier districts, peddling cups of hot tea along the way.
This had become a daily routine for a little over a month
since the Sugrin Sea mission (longer and more sporadically
before that whenever the imp was in the city), including a
spontaneous fifteen-minute “Tiny Teatime” held in open areas
such as small parks, or occasionally in a back alley between
several crowded residences. The tea happening had initially
been a whimsical response to <em>Teatime with Tanokuma</em>
and still regularly attracted children when iced drinks were
served during the summertime.</p>
<p>Rows of slightly crooked houses sandwiched among acacia
trees line a narrow, winding lane. Inky passes the elderly
playing tabula surrounded by a small group of onlookers,
people chewing on sweet lemongrass or peeling vegetables,
hanging up laundry on colourful lines made of scrap rags,
children laughing and chasing soapy bubbles with wands
dripping from laundry water, and all sorts of activity that
made houses into homes. Many of them were frank about not
having any spare coins for extras like speciality teas brewed
“just like them shops”, but gladly accepted a steaming bamboo
cup upon realising they neednt pay, if sometimes a little
suspiciously at first. Instead of coin, they held a rich font
of stories, local legends, folk remedies, cooking methods,
insider tip-offs and rumours, which they were often eager to
impart to an attentive audience.</p>
<p>Some of the passer-by were always in a hurry, downing the
tea as though it were a shot of hard liquor before retrieving
a handful of loose coins from a pocket or sock. When Inky
smiled and told them there was no charge, most would return a
puzzled look or uncertain smile, or roll their eyes, and drop
a copper coin into a slot on the lid of the box anyway. A few
had promptly walked off wordlessly with snickering faces, as
though they had gotten away with something clever. Regardless,
it was one of the best ways to see and observe a bustling
metropolis. No one took any particular notice of young urchins
and vendors selling refreshments, flowers and various trinkets
on the streets.</p>
<p>Likewise no one witnessed a tea seller pause near one of
the windows at the back of Enriques Empanada Emporium late in
the day. For a while they watch the chef within in action,
clearly in his element, before reluctantly pulling away and
retreating quietly up the stairs to the second floor. They
should wash up and see if their marketing manager is in the
mood for some takeout and Terrapin Ale this evening.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Background: Alex isnt young, but in comparison to his
whizzened uncle Corraidhin hes the depiction of youth. He has
jet black hair and alert blue eyes, and a quiet serenity about
him that gives one pause, as though hes constantly
calculating. He gives into his passions quickly however, and
becomes rather animated when his emotions break loose. Hell
be the first to curse his uncle for his foolish endeavors,
never quite understanding the sysorcerers way. Early in life,
after the death of his parents, Corraidhin took him under his
wing and tried in vain to teach him the ways of magical
systems administration. Much to Corraidhin, it only resulted
in damaged systems, and a rift with his nephew.</p>
<p>It took years to recover from that, but eventually the two
grew close again, though distant nonetheless. That closeness
reflects itself in the situation Alex finds himself in now, a
mysterious alert from some overly contrived magical system,
ruining his perfectly good winning streak. Its not that he
was necessary bad at all of that stuff, it just, wasnt as
much fun as gambling. And it certainly wasnt as exhillerating
as writing malware.</p>
<p>Breaking into a system, smashing it to bites and pieces,
watching the carefully wrought design burn in amber and green,
now THAT was magic.</p>
<p>META: Alex is like Corraidhin in some aspects, hes
younger, more brash, more given to whim and fancy. Hes
somewhat greedy and craven, attracted to riches far too
easily. Hes a passionate gambler, not due to his skill, but
by virtue of his ability to distract and confuse, which gives
him a delightful edge. Some would call it lucky, but he calls
it subterfuge. He has some sysorcerer skills, nothing quite as
flexible as Corraidhin, but he delightfully wreaks havoc with
worms, scrapers, ransom &amp; spyware. If he cant bypass
something, hell delightfully destroy it. If he cant break
in, hell distract someone or something so he can slip by.</p>
<p>(Think rogue + illusion magic, where Corraidhin is straight
Wizard)</p>
<p>Introduction: Kev, just give it to me straight, the hell
does this Deadmans trigger mean. You cant have a service
like that flap, its a boolean, youre either dead or your
not. And dont try to lie to me, Im not some project managing
schmuck, you know full and well Uncle Corraidhin taught me. I
know enough to tell when youre lying.</p>
<p>(Kevin) Ah, well, umm. Yes I suppose thats true. You cant
be dead and not. Its just not an option. But Zabbix doesnt
lie! Its what monitors your Uncles life force, the state of
his infrastructure so to speak. Look check your own, theres
nothing to indicate any issue with you, but your uncles
fluxuates consistently. None of his other state checks are
failing though! So it could just be a problem with his
Deadmans trigger code.</p>
<p>Absolutely not. Corraidhin might be a flighty fool, but
hes not someone who would deploy faulty code to production.
Theres no way in hell it would get past his linter, let alone
all of the QA he does before it even gets that far. Look, what
the hell did you drag him into, you know exactly what he gets
up to, just point me in his direction so I can get this shit
over with.</p>
<p>(Kevin) Hmm, he didnt really want me to talk about it, but
last I saw him, he was babbling on and on about some magical
Json sword or something. I couldnt quite keep up with it.</p>
<p>You were trying to get him to buy into KDL again werent
you?</p>
<p>(Kevin) Its a good language I swear, and if your uncle had
just.. (Alex cuts him off)</p>
<p>Hush it. What did the sword look like, where was he
headed?</p>
<p>(Kevin) <em>sigh</em> it was large, with a ruby hilt, and a
magical eye of some sort. Im certain if you just ask around
youll find it. Just ask about the sysorcerer who mutters to
his sword, thats how the poor bastard is remembered around
here these days.</p>
<p>With this information Alex departed the Sysorcerers guild
in search of his Uncle. As he asked around town, people shied
away. Nasty business talking about that one, theyd tell him.
A few mentioned something about an attack, and a dagger and
bloodlust the likes of which theyd only heard from the bard
at their local tavern. None of this sounded like the Uncle he
remembered, but he followed the trail until it lead him to the
Milk Maid.</p>
<p>As Alex checked around for someone, anyone who seemed to be
in the know, he spotted Inky, serving tea as she watched the
ongoings at the Empanada shop near the Milk Maid.</p>
<p>Excuse me, miss? You wouldnt have happened to seen my
Uncle, hes an old whizened fellow. Constantly harrumphs and
goes on and on endlessly about some magical script, or how
much he hates the School of Powershell. I havent been able to
find him, and Ive been looking all over the city for the
better part of 3 days. Note even his best friend Kevin at the
Sysorcers guild knew where he was, and Im just, Im at a bit
of a loss..</p>
<p><em>sigh</em> Im sorry to just unload on your like that.
If you dont know him thats okay, Id be happy to pay for a
cup of tea for your time.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p><em>(Two days prior)</em></p>
<p>An office, barely illuminated by the glow of a moonstone
lamp.</p>
<p>An elf attired in red silk dress robes with a shimmering
pattern of butterflies, a red floral picture hat and matching
high heel boots lounged in the visitors chair in front of a
heavy wooden desk. The charms dangling from her wrist circlets
tinkled as she reached for a teacup. A silver tray was placed
to one side of the desk with a pot of maghrebi francus, two
porcelain cups and a bowl of sugar cubes. The remaining
surface was mostly covered by a map of Basmentaria, the
moonstone lamp and a short stack of books. Behind the desk sat
an imp in a midnight blue suit, a dart pen balanced on the
edge of two fingers of one hand, while the other tapped a
silent rhythm on the pineapple leather armrest.</p>
<p>The lady in dress robes spoke first. “I made some
inquiries. That sysorcerer acquaintance of yours seems to be
stuck in some sort of spatial-temporal loop. The anomalies are
usually salvageable given time and expert attention. His
nephew is out looking for him now.” She hands the imp a sheet
with a drawing of a pensive but bright-eyed young man with
dark hair, and several lines of notes below. “How are things
at your end?”</p>
<p>“The situation is tenable for the moment. One checked,
another disengaged. Between the wizard and bard, Blackfoot
will think twice before making any more untoward moves. One of
the waiters at the club said the bard gave him a little
dressing-down after the stabbing. He was practically shaking
in his boots by the end of it.”</p>
<p>The elf laughed. “I read your earlier missive. Slipping a
catalyst into a milk pudding to stir up a bloodthirsty sword?
I guess you were pretty sure the thirst wouldnt get out of
hand and kill the hobbit outright.”</p>
<p>“Not entirely, but the good wizard would fight it with
considerable strength of will. That guild of his may be full
of white hats too busy with their petty squabbling over
semantics to see trouble looming until it smacked them in
their faces, but they have their principles and will not give
in easily when challenged.” The imp grimaced. “An unpleasant
matter but arguably a necessity. It was only a matter of time
before the cursed sword would find itself a target. May as
well put evil to good use.”</p>
<p>“You did what you had to do, Ink. And that sailor with the
gold eye?”</p>
<p>“Met with an unfortunate … accident. Securing the crystal
would have been sufficient, but the horkosgrampus werent
terribly impressed with him. The Benefactor should be
relieved. Men of their ilk would sooner sell to the highest
bidder.” The pen twirled in their hand once, twice, before
pausing with the nib pointing downward at a spot on the map.
The imp continued, “All the more reason to move as soon as the
young man finds his uncle. Kelsun Peak, most likely.”</p>
<p>“Right. Ill let the others know if anything happens.” She
rose to her heels in a whisper of brocade silks. “Do you want
an antidote for … ?” She gestured with a slim, graceful hand
framed in delicate strands of the gold bracelets towards her
companion.</p>
<p>The imp inclined their head slightly in grateful
acknowledgement. “No need. The condition is relatively
harmless and reversing the effects now might raise suspicion.
The postmistress at the Hutcheon Lane branch of Leplus Post
was very tickled by it.”</p>
<p>“I see. So thats how it is.” she replied with undisguised
mirth. The imp ignored her smirk. “Please see to it the
preparations are carried out. The fate of your beloved
operetta house may well depend upon it.”</p>
<p>“You would never!” The elven lady exclaimed in mock
affront. “No, I wouldnt, even though it is the bane of all
fine glassware. However, if the crystals came to less
discerning hands …” They shared a solemn look before the elf
nodded and swept out of the room, leaving the cloying scent of
violets in her path.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Inky gestures wordlessly for the young wizard to follow
them upstairs to the second floor of the Milk Market, heading
straight for the room at one end of a long hallway.</p>
<p>As Inky enters, their small and fluffy marketing manager
pops its head out of the wooden tub of water standing to one
side of the room. “We have a visitor!” Inky cheerfully tells
the duck. Their marketing manager looks back at them both and
says, “QUACK!”</p>
<p>Inky turns back to the young man with a smile. “Please have
a seat. How may we address you? Tea? No charge for Master
Corraidhíns nephew, of course.”</p>
<p>Once seated on some cushions thrown over a slightly ratty
tartan rug and having poured out a steaming cup of mandarin
pekoe for each of them, Inky begins, “So, about your uncle.
The good news is, we know him. The bad news is, we knew him.”
They then proceed to recount the events of their latest
mission at the site of a shipwreck out in the Sugrin Sea, and
the elder sysorcerers disappearance.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Prelude:</p>
<p>A fringe movement of lunatic paleornithologists and
crackpots of various other professions has slowly been gaining
traction over the last few decades. The movement was born when
the enterprising Modern Fuchsia, at the time a budding young
scientist on a dig yearning to make a name for himself, found
the fossil of a modern feathered bird—probably some kind of
swallow—alongside a theropod, that variety of dinosaur widely
accepted to be the ancestor of modern birds. Faced with what
he believed to be irrefutable evidence of a modern descendant
coexisting alongside its own ancient ancestor, Fuchsia arrived
at the only conclusion he was capable of making: Birds Are Not
Dinosaurs. And thus BAND came into being.</p>
<p>Ever since, Fuschia and his BANDits have spent considerable
amounts of time and energy attending conferences and
publishing papers, pouting and demanding to be taken seriously
by the wider scientific community. A community which, if it
pays them any attention at all, merely mocks and ridicules
their crackpot theories.</p>
<p>Modern Fuschia is of course wrong. But neither he nor his
BANDits know how dangerously close he came to the actual
truth.</p>
<p>For much, much deeper in the shadowy fringes of
paleornithology, there is a clandestine operation called BATT.
And only BATT knows the actual explanation for how a modern
descendant might coexist alongside its own ancestor. Birds Are
Time Travelers.</p>
<p>In the far future when birds are the dominant intelligent
life on Basmentaria, they do indeed invent time travel. The
end result was catastrophic and is the real reason that the
dinosaurs went extinct.</p>
<p>It is a common misconception that barn swallows are the
most common and widespread species of swallow. That
distinction in fact belongs to the <em>time swallow</em>.
Although—if youre lucky—youll never actually see one. Since
the Incident, the secret agents of BATT have vowed never again
to interfere with or try to alter the time stream. Nor to
allow anyone else to. The time swallows are special bred,
special trained, appearing wherever and whenever an anomaly
appears to remove it and restore the proper timeline. The tiny
birds quite literally swallow, consume, and destroy anything
that meddles with time.</p>
<p>At their headquarters, in the present day, BATT Director
Purple Martin is delivering a report to his superior. Martin
has a throaty and rich voice of which he is self-conscious in
the presence of his superiors persistent silence.</p>
<p>“We have successfully extracted the sysorcerer and have
repaired the anomaly. The subject is currently under the care
of Felixe and is expected to make a full recovery. In his
possession were a couple of interesting artifacts. One Class C
sentient object, a sword. And a piece of exotica of unknown
origin. Our researchers so far suspect that it is a sort of
reliquary containing both elemental and divine arcana. The
xots physical manifestation—a crystalline ore—thus far
prevents us from determining the precise identity of the
arcana.”</p>
<p>Director Purple Martin is delivering this report to a
lanky, thin man folded into an armchair. He wears thin, wire
spectacles with round lenses, and dangles a walking stick over
the arm of the chair as he sits. He interrupts Martin with a
rare utterance. “The reliquary. I shall like to see it.”</p>
<p>Now then:</p>
<p>Retrieval Team 43 welcomes Alex into their ranks even as
they mourn the loss of Corraidhín the Wizened.</p>
<p>It starts off as a somber affair at Lucys as you all sit
around your regular table, ensconced and wedged into a corner
surrounded on two sides by the red velvet curtains that line
the walls.</p>
<p>But then the hobbit joins you.</p>
<p>Blavin Blandfoot orders a round of drinks in tribute to
Corraidhín. And then another round of drinks to welcome his
nephew Alex. “A family affair, is it not!” And then another
round of drinks because he is thirsty.</p>
<p>The hobbit is in high spirits, brimming with flair and good
cheer. His arm is fully healed from the attack over a month
ago at this very table. His fond memories and frequent toasts
to the sysorcerer make no reference to the incident.</p>
<p>“The Benefactor is immensely pleased with your performance
so far!” He punches a new hole in your Frequent Retrieval
cards. “You are one step closer to winning a FABULOUS PRIZE! I
dont mind telling you Im a little jealous. Assuming you go
the distance, of course. I mean who doesnt love hot dogs and
hot tubs!” He winks conspiratorially at you. “To say nothing
of actually getting to meet the Benefactor! Just imagine!”</p>
<p>After a few more drinks he eventually clears a space on the
table and rolls out a map of Basmentaria. “We once again have
two reports of a crystal spotting!” He jabs a finger at the
mountain range in northern Primora. “The first, as you know,
has been reported by the zephynos high atop Kelsun Peak.”</p>
<p>“The second,” his voice quivers with excitement. He looks
up at you wide-eyed and gestures away from the map into open
space. “Is on the moon!”</p>
<p>Seated a couple tables away from you is the same trio who
were present the last time you all met here: a dusty groll, a
matted gnu, and a curious Ornithologer. The observant among
you, if you happened to look, would notice that the
Ornithologer wears a pinkish purplish red armband with the
word BAND on it. They listen to your proceedings with great
interest while trying really hard to look like theyre not
listening. After Blavins final proclamation, the trio
finishes their drinks, stands, and starts to leave the dining
room.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<ul>
<li>Do you give the second crystal to Blavin?</li>
<li>Do you choose to go to Kelsun Peak, or to the moon?</li>
<li>Who is the Lady in Red and what does she want?</li>
<li>Will Corraidhín recover in the care of Felixe?</li>
<li>Who does the Director of BATT report to and what do they
want with the 1st Crystal?</li>
<li>Whats the deal with the Ornithologers Trio?</li>
<li>Who left you the note signed with an iris and apple?</li>
</ul>
<p>Find out next time on BASEMENT QUEST</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00097.html">www</a></p>
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