+: A colossal many-tentacled sea monster with a hard shell. It drags itself along the ocean floor, carving deep furrows in which it lives, catching prey with its tentacles.
+
+
+
diff --git a/src/bestiary/horkosgrampus.md b/src/bestiary/horkosgrampus.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7c6b4c5
--- /dev/null
+++ b/src/bestiary/horkosgrampus.md
@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+---
+title: horkosgrampus
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+
Horkosgrampus
+: Toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence in the presence of a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which case they go into a frenzy preying on the liar or liars. They can smell blood from a great distance, but can hear a lie from much further.
+
+
diff --git a/src/bestiary/merbear.md b/src/bestiary/merbear.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..30d6d39
--- /dev/null
+++ b/src/bestiary/merbear.md
@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+---
+title: merbear
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+
Merbear
+: Top half bear. Thick, hairless, leathery skin with a thick layer of blubber to keep it warm. Bottom half fish.
+
+
diff --git a/src/bestiary/tardigrade.md b/src/bestiary/tardigrade.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..beb1169
--- /dev/null
+++ b/src/bestiary/tardigrade.md
@@ -0,0 +1,9 @@
+---
+title: tardigrade
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+
Tardigrade
+: A water bear. It has eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+
diff --git a/src/epistolary/00032.md b/src/epistolary/00032.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..182a888
--- /dev/null
+++ b/src/epistolary/00032.md
@@ -0,0 +1,90 @@
+---
+title: 00032
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:50:03 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:50:12 -0700
+public: yes
+syndicated: yes
+---
+### 00032 {#00032}
+
+> Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I should
+> probably be a little more careful with my spells..
+>
+> Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what's going on here, no
+> sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea creature blind.
+>
+> Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship, searching for
+> the creature inside
+>
+> `sudo fzf $(pwd)`
+>
+> > t
+> > e
+> > n
+> > t
+> > a
+> > c
+> > l
+> > e
+>
+> Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?
+>
+> `sudo fzf $(pwd)`
+>
+> > c
+> > r
+> > y
+> > s
+> > t
+> > a
+> > l
+>
+> Blast! Why can't I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for a
+> moment.
+>
+> OH!
+>
+> `sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior`
+>
+> > t
+> > e
+> > n
+> > t
+> > a
+> > c
+> > l
+> > e
+
+You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any tentacles
+inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of the crystal you
+seek.
+
+If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a
+*harrowkrake*. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster with a plow
+shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor, digging deep
+furrows. Kind of like if a giant squid could grow a nautilus shell.
+They are usually content to stay in their trenches, grabbing prey as
+it swims by with their long tentacles like some kind of nightmarish
+barnacle.
+
+The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on candies. A few
+blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood float lazily upward from
+where Gabs got her stabs on, attracting the attention of a couple
+horkosgrampus. The manta gives them a wide berth but doesn't
+otherwise seem too concerned about them.
+
+Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are
+mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence in the presence
+of a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which case they go into a
+frenzy preying on the liar or liars. They can smell blood from a
+great distance, but can hear a lie from much further.
+
+
+You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling like smooth
+stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a little further
+onto its side, and dangles just a little further over the harrowkrake
+trench.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00060.html)
diff --git a/www/index.html b/www/index.html
index 7bd48c4..84b43f6 100644
--- a/www/index.html
+++ b/www/index.html
@@ -251,6 +251,7 @@ of the Were-Hare
Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I should
+probably be a little more careful with my spells..
+
Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what’s going on here, no
+sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea creature blind.
+
Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship, searching for the
+creature inside
+
sudo fzf $(pwd)
+
+
t e n t a c l e
+
+
Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?
+
sudo fzf $(pwd)
+
+
c r y s t a l
+
+
Blast! Why can’t I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for a
+moment.
+
OH!
+
sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior
+
+
t e n t a c l e
+
+
+
You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any tentacles
+inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of the crystal you
+seek.
+
If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a
+harrowkrake. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster with a plow
+shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor, digging deep furrows.
+Kind of like if a giant squid could grow a nautilus shell. They are
+usually content to stay in their trenches, grabbing prey as it swims by
+with their long tentacles like some kind of nightmarish barnacle.
+
The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on candies. A few
+blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood float lazily upward from
+where Gabs got her stabs on, attracting the attention of a couple
+horkosgrampus. The manta gives them a wide berth but doesn’t otherwise
+seem too concerned about them.
+
Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are
+mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence in the presence of
+a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which case they go into a frenzy
+preying on the liar or liars. They can smell blood from a great
+distance, but can hear a lie from much further.
+
You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling like smooth
+stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a little further onto
+its side, and dangles just a little further over the harrowkrake
+trench.
Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria
@@ -3338,6 +3390,15 @@ runes and wands.
+
Harrowkrake
+
+A colossal many-tentacled sea monster with a hard shell. It drags itself
+along the ocean floor, carving deep furrows in which it lives, catching
+prey with its tentacles.
+
+
+
+
Hemogoblin
A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
@@ -3362,6 +3423,17 @@ community.
+
Horkosgrampus
+
+Toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are mostly scavengers, and
+are only provoked to violence in the presence of a lie or the breaking
+of an oath, in which case they go into a frenzy preying on the liar or
+liars. They can smell blood from a great distance, but can hear a lie
+from much further.
+
+
+
+
Kobit
Subterranean scaly ratdog creatures. Big luminous eyes, long droopy
@@ -3379,19 +3451,18 @@ they are revered and elevated by the other kobits.
-
Torque
+
Merbear
-The twisted people. Their bodies literally twisted and warped by magic
-into gruesome forms, these wretched creatures are hated and reviled
-across the lands.
+Top half bear. Thick, hairless, leathery skin with a thick layer of
+blubber to keep it warm. Bottom half fish.
+
+
+
+
Tardigrade
-
-
-
-torque
-
-
+A water bear. It has eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp
+claws. It wriggles and wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
@@ -3413,6 +3484,23 @@ wear chef’s hats. But no, that’s just what their heads look like.
+
Torque
+
+The twisted people. Their bodies literally twisted and warped by magic
+into gruesome forms, these wretched creatures are hated and reviled
+across the lands.
+
+
+
+
+
+torque
+
+
+
+
+
+
Zephynos
Juvenile cloud dragons. They have wide heads and lidless eyes. Multiple
diff --git a/www/rss.xml b/www/rss.xml
index 5c794ee..5129ece 100644
--- a/www/rss.xml
+++ b/www/rss.xml
@@ -6,77 +6,68 @@
https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml
Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!
- 29
+ 32dozens@tilde.team (dozens)
- 29 - Mon, 31 Oct 2022 08:35:44
--0600
- Mon, 31 Oct 2022 08:35:44 -0600
+ 32 - Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:50:03
+-0700
+ Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:50:12 -0700
00029
+
00032
-
Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be
- two true bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally
- think the ocean doesn’t have enough bears and could do with
- two strapping examples of true peak bearitude! The two of you
- should be working together to show the world how important
- bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have two. And the
- moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two bears?
-
The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is
- when it’s calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you
- know you’re in for a hell of a bad time. And since neither of
- you are it, I say we let this matter rest and declare this
- ocean two bears richer!
-
Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his
- cloak, just in case. No need for a blood rush like last time,
- can’t let daggers go mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the
- ocean needs less bears, it’s tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would
- react to bear blood..
+
Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I
+ should probably be a little more careful with my spells..
+
Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what’s going on
+ here, no sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea
+ creature blind.
+
Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship,
+ searching for the creature inside
+
sudo fzf $(pwd)
+
+
t e n t a c l e
-
The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a
- dreadful bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention
- him!”
-
“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an
- embarrassment to bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
-
“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if
- one of them is HE!”
-
The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm,
- two bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade
- a scrupulous side-eye. “Do you truly think so?”
-
“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the
- tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of
- ocean all around you.
-
“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of
- stars! The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it
- not?”
-
“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
-
“Brother!”
-
The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never
- experienced the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then
- you don’t know how soft and enveloping it is.
-
“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must
- begin our search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of
- the Sea yet to be discovered?”
-
“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I
- can’t stand the thought!” sobs the merbear.
-
They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear
- love. “Good luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the
- merbear to you over its shoulder. “If you ever end up on the
- moon,” adds the tardigrade, laughing merrily, “say hello to
- Hap’n’stance for me!”
-
Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a
- rush of current as massive amounts of water are displaced by
- inky black tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach!
- They grasp! One grabs the tardigrade around the middle.
- Another grabs the merbear by the tail. Both bears cry and
- reach for each other as they are ripped apart and pulled down
- below.
-
The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and
- threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and
- at your ankles!
+
Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?
+
sudo fzf $(pwd)
+
+
c r y s t a l
+
+
Blast! Why can’t I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for
+ a moment.
+
OH!
+
sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior
+
+
t e n t a c l e
+
+
+
You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any
+ tentacles inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of
+ the crystal you seek.
+
If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a
+ harrowkrake. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster
+ with a plow shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor,
+ digging deep furrows. Kind of like if a giant squid could grow
+ a nautilus shell. They are usually content to stay in their
+ trenches, grabbing prey as it swims by with their long
+ tentacles like some kind of nightmarish barnacle.
+
The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on
+ candies. A few blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood
+ float lazily upward from where Gabs got her stabs on,
+ attracting the attention of a couple horkosgrampus. The manta
+ gives them a wide berth but doesn’t otherwise seem too
+ concerned about them.
+
Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk.
+ They are mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence
+ in the presence of a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which
+ case they go into a frenzy preying on the liar or liars. They
+ can smell blood from a great distance, but can hear a lie from
+ much further.
+
You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling
+ like smooth stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a
+ little further onto its side, and dangles just a little
+ further over the harrowkrake trench.
Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one
- hand.
-
It was lighter than it should be given the density of the
- contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown
- weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the
- clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the
- continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port
- town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
- Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a
- mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim
- light.
-
It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this
- particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the
- shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of
- their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local
- sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the
- hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district
- at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
- up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into
- the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily
- wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of
- the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with
- assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time
- and in larger quantities.
-
Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was
- set to one side.
-
What were they doing?
-
If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any
- student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an
- experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known
- the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny
- concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but
- didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they
- thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a
- dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could
- not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they
- had failed, again.
-
They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go
- into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing
- the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large
- platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had
- been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had
- gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it —
- it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood
- pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s
- menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
- straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly
- in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be
- true nobody could be held to account for the actions of
- another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of
- a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in
- other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble,
- a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of
- wandering the continent.
-
Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently
- for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it
- back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to
- the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín
- was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was
- more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness,
- despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
- staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this
- more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?
-
After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the
- producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still
- reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty
- cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the
- floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this
- one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best
- life choices.
+
Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be
+ two true bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally
+ think the ocean doesn’t have enough bears and could do with
+ two strapping examples of true peak bearitude! The two of you
+ should be working together to show the world how important
+ bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have two. And the
+ moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two bears?
+
The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is
+ when it’s calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you
+ know you’re in for a hell of a bad time. And since neither of
+ you are it, I say we let this matter rest and declare this
+ ocean two bears richer!
+
Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his
+ cloak, just in case. No need for a blood rush like last time,
+ can’t let daggers go mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the
+ ocean needs less bears, it’s tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would
+ react to bear blood..
-
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead
- of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet
- your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named
- Inquire Within Upon Everything.
-
Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would
- imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of
- living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s
- cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine,
- decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together
- irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and
- claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar
- brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
-
You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his
- fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that
- involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to
- either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish,
- fanfare, and misdirection along the way.
-
He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an
- ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his
- left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other
- barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a
- certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have
- enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he
- escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
- sloop Diamond Howler is docked. Its captain, Enid
- Barlow, welcomes you aboard.
-
Before long, Diamond Howler pulls out under the
- command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky”
- Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast,
- and you arrive fairly quickly.
-
“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow
- mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest
- assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the
- best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing
- goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared.
- Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t.
- But at least we know where she wound up!”
-
While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a
- large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge
- with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around
- and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little
- effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide.
- “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the
- tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom
- of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop
- up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a
- breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on
- over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while
- you’re below the waves!”
+
The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a
+ dreadful bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention
+ him!”
+
“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an
+ embarrassment to bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
+
“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if
+ one of them is HE!”
+
The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm,
+ two bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade
+ a scrupulous side-eye. “Do you truly think so?”
+
“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the
+ tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of
+ ocean all around you.
+
“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of
+ stars! The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it
+ not?”
+
“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
+
“Brother!”
+
The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never
+ experienced the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then
+ you don’t know how soft and enveloping it is.
+
“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must
+ begin our search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of
+ the Sea yet to be discovered?”
+
“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I
+ can’t stand the thought!” sobs the merbear.
+
They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear
+ love. “Good luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the
+ merbear to you over its shoulder. “If you ever end up on the
+ moon,” adds the tardigrade, laughing merrily, “say hello to
+ Hap’n’stance for me!”
+
Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a
+ rush of current as massive amounts of water are displaced by
+ inky black tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach!
+ They grasp! One grabs the tardigrade around the middle.
+ Another grabs the merbear by the tail. Both bears cry and
+ reach for each other as they are ripped apart and pulled down
+ below.
+
The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and
+ threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and
+ at your ankles!
WHAT DO YOU DO
-
NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free
- to react to anything that happened between arriving at the
- docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding
- the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.
Corraidhin
+ Well I’ll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did
+ say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it’s much more
+ stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of
+ stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more
+ convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for
+ whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious
+ benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil.
+
Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and
+ plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our
+ target.
+
Now this isn’t to say that we won’t stab him. I’m convinced
+ that’s probably a good idea in the long run, but we know
+ nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him
+ just to lose track of the true evil we must smite!
+
Y’aml
+ But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him.
+ HE’S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step
+ away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil
+ hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this
+ minute!
+
Corraidhin
+ I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it’s
+ entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren’t
+ any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing.
+
(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the
+ discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent,
+ aghast even)
+
Corraidhin stands, Y’aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming
+ a wicked joyful grin as it’s raised high, poised to strike.
+ The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock.
+ The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the
+ bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal
+ with this ruckus.
+
+
The table—and all of Lucy’s Basement within earshot—sits in
+ tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin’s one-sided conversation
+ with the Sword of Yam’L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his
+ martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last
+ moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.
+
But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed
+ dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in
+ his chair. Lucy’s bouncers scramble forward from the corners
+ of the room to intercept.
+
+
Y’aml
+ We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!
+
Against Corraidhin’s control, as though he’s in a trance,
+ the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the
+ neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map
+ and his martini to the side.
+
+
+
Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of
+ the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid
+ sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels
+ concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.
+
He stabs down—Yam’L cries out in wordless glee—and the
+ weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now
+ drawing Corraidhin’s hand downward in a rising crescendo of
+ stabbitude.
+
+
Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying
+ itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and
+ pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye
+ and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in
+ ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, “MORE! MORE! MORE!”
+ and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of
+ him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under
+ and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.
+
Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back.
+ Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his
+ wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.
+
The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence
+ of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so
+ overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow
+ residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he
+ sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.
+
Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and
+ slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently,
+ and starts to slither away.
Corraidhin Shit, shit shit shit shit shit.
+ This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even
+ slightly stealthy
+
Y’aml STAB, delightful blood. Stab the
+ flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength.
+ Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more
+ more more more more
+
Corraidhin (internal thought) Ugh my head,
+ it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s
+ hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a
+ moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own.
+ It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just
+ weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely
+ cursed..
+
Y’aml CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did
+ was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him
+ again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they
+ look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying
+ to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB
+ THEM.
+
Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though
+ holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises
+ again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he
+ slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden
+ seat.
+
Y’aml Disgusting wood, stab the flesh!
+ Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!
+
But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the
+ gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to
+ side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the
+ guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent
+ patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.
+
Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying
+ the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP.
+ You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this
+ man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is
+ entirely uncalled for!
+
Y’aml NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL.
+ STAB.
+
The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry,
+ insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental
+ strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he
+ clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this
+ point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around
+ the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling,
+ sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT.
+ EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB
+ IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
+
The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but
+ commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
+
Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood,
+ consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them,
+ stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches
+ Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red
+ eyes.
+
+
~
+
+
Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub
+ bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed
+ from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the
+ eye and says, “You are not your sword.”
+
Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more
+ quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit,
+ a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets
+ his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”
+
+
~
+
+
Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his
+ FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He
+ carefully avoids the wild swinging of the
+ once-sword-now-dagger.
+
“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink
+ over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you
+ all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war
+ hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”
+
Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear:
+ “Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself
+ together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate
+ places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s
+ direction, one that promises adventure later.
+
+
The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the
+ crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around
+ him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a
+ master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some
+ kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic
+ break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having
+ to interfere, all the better.
+
The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly,
+ pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner
+ can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing
+ manager I must strongly advise against this course of
+ action!”
+
Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy
+ groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat;
+ and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial
+ robes.
+
The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a
+ bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at
+ the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up
+ for a blast.
+
The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches
+ into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s
+ proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you
+ possibly justify your choices when there are open source
+ alternatives available?
+
The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the
+ receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to
+ slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle
+ threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full
+ blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING
+ CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
+
The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat.
+ The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub
+ smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its
+ pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes
+ right into the bar.
+
+
As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB.
+ THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky
+ whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then
+ a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor
+ he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from
+ everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his
+ friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching
+ for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though
+ sheilding it from his surroundings.
+
What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself.
+ Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s
+ going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large
+ ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good
+ good, the syscoreor croons.
+
Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard
+ glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his
+ oration, worried about his companion.
+
I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and
+ collapses to the floor.
+
+
Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the
+ well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye
+ closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear.
+ You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert,
+ lifeless.
+
Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
+
Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
+
Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about
+ reassigning your case.
+
The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is
+ happily snacking away.
+
You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for
+ the moment, overstayed.
Corraidhin
- Well I’ll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did
- say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it’s much more
- stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of
- stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more
- convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for
- whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious
- benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil.
-
Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and
- plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our
- target.
-
Now this isn’t to say that we won’t stab him. I’m convinced
- that’s probably a good idea in the long run, but we know
- nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him
- just to lose track of the true evil we must smite!
-
Y’aml
- But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him.
- HE’S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step
- away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil
- hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this
- minute!
-
Corraidhin
- I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it’s
- entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren’t
- any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing.
-
(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the
- discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent,
- aghast even)
-
Corraidhin stands, Y’aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming
- a wicked joyful grin as it’s raised high, poised to strike.
- The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock.
- The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the
- bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal
- with this ruckus.
-
-
The table—and all of Lucy’s Basement within earshot—sits in
- tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin’s one-sided conversation
- with the Sword of Yam’L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his
- martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last
- moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.
-
But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed
- dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in
- his chair. Lucy’s bouncers scramble forward from the corners
- of the room to intercept.
-
-
Y’aml
- We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!
-
Against Corraidhin’s control, as though he’s in a trance,
- the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the
- neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map
- and his martini to the side.
-
-
-
Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of
- the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid
- sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels
- concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.
-
He stabs down—Yam’L cries out in wordless glee—and the
- weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now
- drawing Corraidhin’s hand downward in a rising crescendo of
- stabbitude.
-
-
Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying
- itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and
- pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye
- and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in
- ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, “MORE! MORE! MORE!”
- and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of
- him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under
- and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.
-
Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back.
- Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his
- wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.
-
The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence
- of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so
- overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow
- residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he
- sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.
-
Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and
- slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently,
- and starts to slither away.
Corraidhin Shit, shit shit shit shit shit.
- This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even
- slightly stealthy
-
Y’aml STAB, delightful blood. Stab the
- flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength.
- Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more
- more more more more
-
Corraidhin (internal thought) Ugh my head,
- it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s
- hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a
- moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own.
- It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just
- weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely
- cursed..
-
Y’aml CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did
- was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him
- again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they
- look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying
- to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB
- THEM.
-
Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though
- holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises
- again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he
- slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden
- seat.
-
Y’aml Disgusting wood, stab the flesh!
- Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!
-
But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the
- gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to
- side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the
- guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent
- patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.
-
Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying
- the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP.
- You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this
- man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is
- entirely uncalled for!
-
Y’aml NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL.
- STAB.
-
The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry,
- insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental
- strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he
- clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this
- point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around
- the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling,
- sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT.
- EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB
- IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
-
The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but
- commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
-
Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood,
- consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them,
- stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches
- Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red
- eyes.
-
-
~
-
-
Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub
- bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed
- from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the
- eye and says, “You are not your sword.”
-
Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more
- quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit,
- a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets
- his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”
-
-
~
-
-
Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his
- FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He
- carefully avoids the wild swinging of the
- once-sword-now-dagger.
-
“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink
- over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you
- all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war
- hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”
-
Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear:
- “Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself
- together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate
- places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s
- direction, one that promises adventure later.
-
-
The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the
- crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around
- him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a
- master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some
- kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic
- break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having
- to interfere, all the better.
-
The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly,
- pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner
- can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing
- manager I must strongly advise against this course of
- action!”
-
Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy
- groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat;
- and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial
- robes.
-
The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a
- bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at
- the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up
- for a blast.
-
The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches
- into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s
- proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you
- possibly justify your choices when there are open source
- alternatives available?
-
The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the
- receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to
- slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle
- threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full
- blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING
- CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
-
The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat.
- The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub
- smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its
- pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes
- right into the bar.
-
-
As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB.
- THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky
- whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then
- a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor
- he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from
- everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his
- friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching
- for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though
- sheilding it from his surroundings.
-
What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself.
- Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s
- going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large
- ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good
- good, the syscoreor croons.
-
Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard
- glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his
- oration, worried about his companion.
-
I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and
- collapses to the floor.
-
-
Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the
- well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye
- closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear.
- You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert,
- lifeless.
-
Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
-
Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
-
Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about
- reassigning your case.
-
The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is
- happily snacking away.
-
You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for
- the moment, overstayed.
Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one
+ hand.
+
It was lighter than it should be given the density of the
+ contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown
+ weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the
+ clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the
+ continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port
+ town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
+ Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a
+ mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim
+ light.
+
It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this
+ particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the
+ shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of
+ their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local
+ sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the
+ hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district
+ at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
+ up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into
+ the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily
+ wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of
+ the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with
+ assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time
+ and in larger quantities.
+
Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was
+ set to one side.
+
What were they doing?
+
If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any
+ student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an
+ experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known
+ the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny
+ concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but
+ didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they
+ thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a
+ dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could
+ not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they
+ had failed, again.
+
They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go
+ into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing
+ the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large
+ platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had
+ been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had
+ gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it —
+ it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood
+ pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s
+ menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
+ straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly
+ in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be
+ true nobody could be held to account for the actions of
+ another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of
+ a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in
+ other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble,
+ a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of
+ wandering the continent.
+
Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently
+ for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it
+ back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to
+ the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín
+ was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was
+ more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness,
+ despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
+ staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this
+ more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?
+
After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the
+ producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still
+ reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty
+ cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the
+ floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this
+ one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best
+ life choices.
+
+
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead
+ of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet
+ your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named
+ Inquire Within Upon Everything.
+
Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would
+ imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of
+ living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s
+ cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine,
+ decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together
+ irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and
+ claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar
+ brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
+
You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his
+ fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that
+ involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to
+ either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish,
+ fanfare, and misdirection along the way.
+
He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an
+ ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his
+ left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other
+ barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a
+ certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have
+ enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he
+ escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
+ sloop Diamond Howler is docked. Its captain, Enid
+ Barlow, welcomes you aboard.
+
Before long, Diamond Howler pulls out under the
+ command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky”
+ Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast,
+ and you arrive fairly quickly.
+
“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow
+ mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest
+ assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the
+ best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing
+ goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared.
+ Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t.
+ But at least we know where she wound up!”
+
While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a
+ large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge
+ with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around
+ and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little
+ effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide.
+ “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the
+ tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom
+ of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop
+ up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a
+ breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on
+ over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while
+ you’re below the waves!”
+
WHAT DO YOU DO
+
NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free
+ to react to anything that happened between arriving at the
+ docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding
+ the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.
Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I should
+probably be a little more careful with my spells..
+
Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what’s going on here, no
+sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea creature blind.
+
Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship, searching for the
+creature inside
+
sudo fzf $(pwd)
+
+
t e n t a c l e
+
+
Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?
+
sudo fzf $(pwd)
+
+
c r y s t a l
+
+
Blast! Why can’t I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for a
+moment.
+
OH!
+
sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior
+
+
t e n t a c l e
+
+
+
You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any tentacles
+inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of the crystal you
+seek.
+
If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a
+harrowkrake. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster with a plow
+shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor, digging deep furrows.
+Kind of like if a giant squid could grow a nautilus shell. They are
+usually content to stay in their trenches, grabbing prey as it swims by
+with their long tentacles like some kind of nightmarish barnacle.
+
The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on candies. A few
+blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood float lazily upward from
+where Gabs got her stabs on, attracting the attention of a couple
+horkosgrampus. The manta gives them a wide berth but doesn’t otherwise
+seem too concerned about them.
+
Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are
+mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence in the presence of
+a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which case they go into a frenzy
+preying on the liar or liars. They can smell blood from a great
+distance, but can hear a lie from much further.
+
You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling like smooth
+stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a little further onto
+its side, and dangles just a little further over the harrowkrake
+trench.
Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria
@@ -3341,6 +3393,15 @@ runes and wands.
+
Harrowkrake
+
+A colossal many-tentacled sea monster with a hard shell. It drags itself
+along the ocean floor, carving deep furrows in which it lives, catching
+prey with its tentacles.
+
+
+
+
Hemogoblin
A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
@@ -3365,6 +3426,17 @@ community.
+
Horkosgrampus
+
+Toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are mostly scavengers, and
+are only provoked to violence in the presence of a lie or the breaking
+of an oath, in which case they go into a frenzy preying on the liar or
+liars. They can smell blood from a great distance, but can hear a lie
+from much further.
+
+
+
+
Kobit
Subterranean scaly ratdog creatures. Big luminous eyes, long droopy
@@ -3382,19 +3454,18 @@ they are revered and elevated by the other kobits.
-
Torque
+
Merbear
-The twisted people. Their bodies literally twisted and warped by magic
-into gruesome forms, these wretched creatures are hated and reviled
-across the lands.
+Top half bear. Thick, hairless, leathery skin with a thick layer of
+blubber to keep it warm. Bottom half fish.
+
+
+
+
Tardigrade
-
-
-
-torque
-
-
+A water bear. It has eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp
+claws. It wriggles and wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
@@ -3416,6 +3487,23 @@ wear chef’s hats. But no, that’s just what their heads look like.
+
Torque
+
+The twisted people. Their bodies literally twisted and warped by magic
+into gruesome forms, these wretched creatures are hated and reviled
+across the lands.
+
+
+
+
+
+torque
+
+
+
+
+
+
Zephynos
Juvenile cloud dragons. They have wide heads and lidless eyes. Multiple
-
-