206 lines
9.8 KiB
Markdown
206 lines
9.8 KiB
Markdown
|
---
|
||
|
title: 00056
|
||
|
created: Mon, 16 Jan 2023 14:10:25 -0700
|
||
|
updated: Mon, 16 Jan 2023 14:10:25 -0700
|
||
|
public: yes
|
||
|
syndicated: yes
|
||
|
---
|
||
|
### 00056 {#00056}
|
||
|
|
||
|
> The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface. Patterns
|
||
|
> where patterns shouldn't be, strange orders from HQ, indifference
|
||
|
> where once was ample aide as well. It was maddening. Combine it all
|
||
|
> with the haunting suspicion that there was constantly someone just
|
||
|
> around the next corner, and it was enough to truly drive Alex mad.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line, but Alex
|
||
|
> wasn't about to let it get to him. Or so he thought to himself as
|
||
|
> he cast a furtive look at his monitoring equipment. This paranoia
|
||
|
> had served him well in the past, very well in fact. It's a sort of
|
||
|
> sixth sense in a way, always kept Alex off the edge of the cliff,
|
||
|
> especially when someone stepped close enough to push him off. Those
|
||
|
> were the types of skills HQ sought after in the first place.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his monitoring
|
||
|
> equipment running, dead man's trigger set to blow the place shoul
|
||
|
> anyone enter it. Can't be too careful these days..
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows, Alex makes
|
||
|
> his way down an alley, then another, and yet another, finally
|
||
|
> emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market. Across the street, as
|
||
|
> he had expected, was Marvelo's Marvelous MurderSticks, a quaint
|
||
|
> place should one needed something, well you get the picture, they
|
||
|
> don't really sell anything but weaponry here.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode towards the
|
||
|
> back rack, where a collection of knives was on display. A rough
|
||
|
> looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning hair, moved from the
|
||
|
> counter as he saw Alex approach. "Fine sampling of knives we have,
|
||
|
> could I interest you in one?" Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin
|
||
|
> stilleto style dagger, and hands it to Marvelo "This one seems
|
||
|
> about right, but I'd like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you
|
||
|
> don't mind". Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say "Not a
|
||
|
> problem at all sir", and he heads into the back.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he places it on
|
||
|
> his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from a stack, he
|
||
|
> deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled piece of paper into
|
||
|
> the bottom, alongside an m1911 style pistol, and a couple of clips
|
||
|
> of ammo. He then places the velvet bottom back over the equipment,
|
||
|
> and places the stilleto on top, bringing the entire package back to
|
||
|
> the front. "An extra fine edge on this one sir, that'll be 15 gold,
|
||
|
> plus another 5 to cover the service.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back alley.
|
||
|
> Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to himself as he
|
||
|
> disassembles the box holstering the pistol and ammo, and sheathing
|
||
|
> the dagger. Can't keep going unarmed like I'm some kind of beat
|
||
|
> cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the case and unfurls the message,
|
||
|
> quickly deciphering the encryption set on it by Marvelo.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> ```
|
||
|
> The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet.
|
||
|
> Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the "Milk Market" these past few days.
|
||
|
> Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends.
|
||
|
> Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors
|
||
|
> Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal
|
||
|
> Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advised
|
||
|
> ```
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Alex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley, taking
|
||
|
> a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping back around,
|
||
|
> and heading back towards it by yet another. Nobody appeared to be
|
||
|
> following him, yet he paused at each corner and turn, waiting for
|
||
|
> the footsteps of a pursuant.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance of
|
||
|
> Enrique's Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial.
|
||
|
> "Enrique, where's Inky? We've got a problem."
|
||
|
|
||
|
~
|
||
|
|
||
|
> Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the items and
|
||
|
> exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of meeting Bother at
|
||
|
> the place stipulated on the note.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> *(Half and one hour later)*
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky runs into
|
||
|
> Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains some of their
|
||
|
> new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for the convenience of
|
||
|
> late-night tourists. These are subsequently hare-mailed to every
|
||
|
> editor at the *Niuewstijl* office, which is almost certain to earn
|
||
|
> another chiding remark from Tess about etiquette and the handling
|
||
|
> of unsolicited bulk mail to parent editorial teams.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> *(Half and two hours later)*
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> The installation on display at the Milk Market was grotesque — that
|
||
|
> is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps carefully through the rooms
|
||
|
> to not disturb the piece. Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set
|
||
|
> up on an upturned milk crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows
|
||
|
> of horse head and thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled
|
||
|
> "you can't ed the unedible".
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> *(Half and three hours earlier)*
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of paper on
|
||
|
> which were written a few questions about the prescribed ritual,
|
||
|
> with some space after each question should the witch prefer to
|
||
|
> scribble a response:
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> - What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk typically
|
||
|
> seek in return for directing travellers to the correct pocket
|
||
|
> dimension?
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> - An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the evenings
|
||
|
> whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel to a pocket
|
||
|
> dimension typically take, allowing for time to seek out a guide? Is
|
||
|
> there a way travellers can estimate the time to set out on their
|
||
|
> journey, in order to arrive at the establishment while it is open?
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> - Who are the Red Spider and "Dude 215R" mentioned in the ritual?
|
||
|
> How can travellers avoid summoning them?
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> - Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the sigils were
|
||
|
> removed during the ritual before they wake up?
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> *(Half and four hours later)*
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin. One
|
||
|
> accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation, following
|
||
|
> the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white pockets of fat
|
||
|
> as they tumble into a hot pan and almost immediately begin to move
|
||
|
> of their own accord. The moving mounds resemble small round mouths
|
||
|
> opening, each with a rim of sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes
|
||
|
> belongs to a grinning face that beams when the mounds bloom into
|
||
|
> bright red flat caps, the edges beneath about to soften in the
|
||
|
> olive oil.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate of
|
||
|
> tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes with a
|
||
|
> murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the tinned spicy
|
||
|
> artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process — someone had ripped
|
||
|
> out the pages from an old pickling book that had long ceased
|
||
|
> publication. Eventually Inky found a former nomad who had eaten
|
||
|
> them for two years in their youth and could recall or somewhat
|
||
|
> describe the taste. Flowery and savoury, they said. Many taste
|
||
|
> tests later, it turned out to be closer to partially decomposed
|
||
|
> cheese in ponderosa lemon juice. Canning was fortuitously easier
|
||
|
> with the increasing portability of sealers. Rather than telling the
|
||
|
> empanada chef any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread
|
||
|
> across his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining.
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> *(Half and five hours later)*
|
||
|
>
|
||
|
> While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea infusion
|
||
|
> since the start of the missions, not that Inky was keeping a close
|
||
|
> count, they hear a familiar voice a short distance outside the door
|
||
|
> asking for their whereabouts. Without pausing in their whisking,
|
||
|
> Inky simply informs the owner of the voice they're not here,
|
||
|
> obviously, before emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot
|
||
|
> and bowls on a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer.
|
||
|
|
||
|
Agate writes back quickly:
|
||
|
|
||
|
> What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk typically
|
||
|
> seek in return for directing travellers to the correct pocket
|
||
|
> dimension?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams.
|
||
|
|
||
|
> An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the evenings
|
||
|
> whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel to a pocket
|
||
|
> dimension typically take, allowing for time to seek out a guide? Is
|
||
|
> there a way travellers can estimate the time to set out on their
|
||
|
> journey, in order to arrive at the establishment while it is open?
|
||
|
|
||
|
You'll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside. You'll
|
||
|
likely arrive exactly when you're meant to. No need to worry too
|
||
|
much about it.
|
||
|
|
||
|
> Who are the Red Spider and "Dude 215R" mentioned in the ritual?
|
||
|
> How can travellers avoid summoning them?
|
||
|
|
||
|
Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream Sigil,
|
||
|
respectively. It's not *terrible* if they show up. But it's
|
||
|
definitely not ideal. You shouldn't register on their radar as long
|
||
|
as you don't pump too much energy into, or siphon to much energy
|
||
|
out of, the sigils. If they do show up, just know that you're in the
|
||
|
presence of a godlike power, and behave accordingly.
|
||
|
|
||
|
> Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the sigils were
|
||
|
> removed during the ritual before they wake up?
|
||
|
|
||
|
If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken, you'll likely
|
||
|
just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for if your dreamform
|
||
|
is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only real danger you may
|
||
|
encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk. They will attempt to
|
||
|
permanently sever your dreamform from your waking body. Which would
|
||
|
leave your body a soulless husk, and leave your consciousness
|
||
|
adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But that probably won't happen! Okay good
|
||
|
luck, have fun!
|
||
|
|
||
|
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||
|
|