From 28013609bfefdc47960a6ae20ab3f6e1d6593471 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: "Christopher P. Brown" Date: Mon, 6 Feb 2023 09:56:32 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] 60 --- basement.order | 1 + src/epistolary/00060.md | 88 +++++++ www/index.html | 70 +++++- www/rss.xml | 540 +++++++++++++++++++++++----------------- www/spoilers.html | 70 +++++- 5 files changed, 533 insertions(+), 236 deletions(-) create mode 100644 src/epistolary/00060.md diff --git a/basement.order b/basement.order index a3ade15..8a147cc 100644 --- a/basement.order +++ b/basement.order @@ -27,6 +27,7 @@ src/epistolary/00056.md src/epistolary/00057.md src/epistolary/00058.md src/epistolary/00059.md +src/epistolary/00060.md src/bestiary/index.md src/bestiary/aetherwael.md src/bestiary/aur.md diff --git a/src/epistolary/00060.md b/src/epistolary/00060.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0176e1e --- /dev/null +++ b/src/epistolary/00060.md @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +--- +title: 00060 +created: Tue, 31 Jan 2023 19:11:47 -0700 +updated: Tue, 31 Jan 2023 19:11:48 -0700 +public: yes +syndicated: yes +--- +### 00060 {#00060} + +> Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is definitely +> strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him with his +> impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately the same can't +> be said for his roguish good looks, as he's found himself 6 arms +> heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he remembers. +> +> Nontheless this doesn't appear to be much of an impediment, and he +> promptly moves on with assessing the situation. +> +> "Acorns? No, I don't think so. I'm afraid octopus' are terrible at +> fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a dreadfully important +> meeting across town." turning to address Inky, "We need to make a +> break for it, what'd the witch tell you? Envision our goal or +> something? This is really a little outside of my realm of mechanical +> magic expertise.. unless.." +> +> Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a terminal +> prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at blinding speed at +> the digital window, a quick bypass there, a root access escalation +> there. +> +> "Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it's an older kernel, +> about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as needed. Here +> I'm giving us sudo access, should we need it." +> +> "Oh and squirrel, here's your acorns" +> +> ``` +> find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \ +> ``` + +It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he corrects +'acron' to 'acorn'. Then he moves all the acorns to the *chipmunk* +instead of to the squirrel. + +Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk's feet. It squeals in +delight. + +In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell of what +can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns has just +vanished. + +The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts scooping up +acorns by the armful and shoving them into its mouth by the dozen. +"Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" it says around a mouthful of +nuts. "Here..." It tosses you a large square silver coin with a round +hole drilled in the center. On one side is the number twenty-one next +to a picture of a curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is +the number five and a picture of a flail. + +"A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it's all I have," +it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide its nuts. +Hopefully somewhere more secure this time. + +If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the hole, you +see the dreamscape before you as though looking through a cloudy +film. All the same stuff is there, but it's hazy and shadowy. + +Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out of hailing +distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes. Dark shadows pool +restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the shadows leap up and take +the form of demons the like of which words cannot describe, before +falling and returning to shadow once more. The figure wears a large +spherical helmet of obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes +of a rainbow of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the +helmet like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel +sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels a tug, +a familiarity. Something about this character is familiar to you, but +you cannot place it. + +When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape both +disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted landscape reappears +but the figure is gone. + +You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather intently from +the branches below. + +WHAT DO YOU DO + diff --git a/www/index.html b/www/index.html index 26acdf3..ad6d522 100644 --- a/www/index.html +++ b/www/index.html @@ -320,6 +320,7 @@ Master
  • 00057
  • 00058
  • 00059
    • +
  • 00060
  • Bestiary
  • Geography
    • @@ -356,11 +357,11 @@ Teale

    Stats

    -

    Total length: 78449 words / 335 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +

    Total length: 79062 words / 337 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)

    -

    There have been 210 messages posted over 202 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.03.

    +

    There have been 213 messages posted over 208 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.02.

    About

    This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.

    @@ -7111,6 +7112,69 @@ direction.

    “My acorns!” insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. “The Red Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help me?”

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    +

    00060

    +
    +

    Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is definitely +strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him with his impecable +fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for +his roguish good looks, as he’s found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit +more octopus-y than he remembers.

    +

    Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment, and he +promptly moves on with assessing the situation.

    +

    “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are terrible at +fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a dreadfully important meeting +across town.” turning to address Inky, “We need to make a break for it, +what’d the witch tell you? Envision our goal or something? This is +really a little outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise.. +unless..”

    +

    Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a terminal +prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at blinding speed at the +digital window, a quick bypass there, a root access escalation +there.

    +

    “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older kernel, +about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as needed. Here I’m +giving us sudo access, should we need it.”

    +

    “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns”

    +
    find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
    +
    +

    It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he corrects +‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to the +chipmunk instead of to the squirrel.

    +

    Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It squeals in +delight.

    +

    In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell of what +can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns has just +vanished.

    +

    The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts scooping up +acorns by the armful and shoving them into its mouth by the dozen. “Oh, +thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it says around a mouthful of nuts. +“Here…” It tosses you a large square silver coin with a round hole +drilled in the center. On one side is the number twenty-one next to a +picture of a curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the +number five and a picture of a flail.

    +

    “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all I have,” +it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide its nuts. Hopefully +somewhere more secure this time.

    +

    If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the hole, you +see the dreamscape before you as though looking through a cloudy film. +All the same stuff is there, but it’s hazy and shadowy.

    +

    Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out of hailing +distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes. Dark shadows pool +restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the shadows leap up and take +the form of demons the like of which words cannot describe, before +falling and returning to shadow once more. The figure wears a large +spherical helmet of obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of +a rainbow of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet +like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel sickened at +the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels a tug, a familiarity. +Something about this character is familiar to you, but you cannot place +it.

    +

    When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape both +disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted landscape reappears +but the figure is gone.

    +

    You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather intently from +the branches below.

    +

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    Bestiary

    Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria

    diff --git a/www/rss.xml b/www/rss.xml index f102975..a56f1bf 100644 --- a/www/rss.xml +++ b/www/rss.xml @@ -301,6 +301,316 @@ trap sleep INT EXIT ]]> + + 58 + dozens@tilde.team (dozens) + 58 - Sat, 21 Jan 2023 16:24:45 +-0700 + Sun, 29 Jan 2023 11:02:32 -0700 + + 00058 +
    +

    (A week prior)

    +

    The secretary collected the stack of papers that had + accumulated at one corner of the desk. “This might help,” she + said, setting down a bundle of herbs with white and pink + flowers in place of the papers.

    +

    Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl’s + plumage. “Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It’ll help make + the stench more bearable when they find the remains.”

    +

    The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as + the words sank in. “That’s not what I meant! It’s for the + circle,” she clarified.

    +

    Seeing the imp’s preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to + regain their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice. + “Beaker’s associates have picked up the empanada shop + proprietor and transported him to an undisclosed location. + There will be a retinue with him at all times.”

    +

    Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room + before responding, “Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I + do not return by the indicated time, please activate the + hitsuzen protocol. As precaution.”

    +

    The secretary looked at Inky in concern. “Is everything all + right? If you’re still troubled by the hotelier, accidents + happen. A single incident—”

    +

    “Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He + was probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the + other stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after + the melon vendor disappeared.”

    +

    Salvia’s violet eyes narrowed. “What, the fruit vendor? + Didn’t the tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get + rid of a neighbor’s nest of snakes.”

    +

    Inky only raised an eyebrow at her.

    +

    The secretary let out a low curse. “You didn’t tell her. + You didn’t want her to worry,” she said aloud in realization. + She sighed. “She’s going to be pretty angry with you when she + finds out, you know.”

    +

    Inky offered her a sardonic smile. “Making people angry is + my job. You of all people know this well. In the event of my + timely demise I’m sure the others would find it cause for a + grand celebration.” They replied matter-of-factly before + returning to smoothing the feathers of one bird wing.

    +

    Salvia shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. You’ll + make it back, Ink. What then—”

    +

    “Then our fair Lady’s ire would be the least of the + problems.”

    +
    +

    ~

    +
    +

    Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He’d received + word of agent 5’s demise that morning, and had been the only + thing on his mind since. 5, no Be’tram knew the risks, we all + knew the risks defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly? + He’d snuck down to the wharf once he’d heard, making sure to + cover his tracks and dodge any potential witnesses. He even + managed to slip past the police cordon they’d setup around the + body. What he’d found wasn’t pretty, it looked like Be’Tram + had suffered in his final moments. The bruising around his + neck pointed to strangulation, with some sort of cloth, + perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there wasn’t a cut, + burn, shot or something of the likes on his otherwise.

    +

    The kill had been intimate.

    +

    Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be’Tram’s eye + had been hard, but he’d of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his + right eye was a recording device, it could only catch the last + 15m or so of what he had seen, but it would give him a clear + look at what had happened. And potentially lead Alex to the + killer. Miserable business, but Be’Tram knew it could make a + difference.

    +

    Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted + the eye, and made his way well away from the area before it + went off obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an + old friend, but it was too dangerous to leave.

    +

    And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little + purple red critical for the sewer hideout. He’d had time to + send out a drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was + reassuring. Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks + upon racks of servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The + effectively of the destruction was delightful, in a sick sort + of desperate way. Alex felt assured that most if not all of + the equipment was useless, but this spelled the end of a + valuable listening outpost. And whoever had done it wasn’t + part of the slag pile.

    +

    Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his + burbled in quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the + Melon vendor’s death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but + none of them held true; some said the city had become + dangerous, a crime syndicate had arisen in the neighboring + city block another thought, and did you hear about the + explosion at the wharf the other night, the city was electric, + yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the issue.

    +

    As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses + strode past the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling + the note from beneath the coffee cup, left for her.

    + 
    4 -> 3
+Daylight breaks on the morrow
+The suns rays make chase
+casting soft cloth
+across the nap of nature's neck
+
+So, night relents and gives way
+biding time until
+it can rule
+in its own domain
    +

    For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled + carelessly on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf. + But for Agent 3 it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s + demise recovered from his eyecam, one part orders; stay low + and we’ll strike these bastards from the shadows, on our + terms, on our ground. Similar missives were delivered to + Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were dwindling rapidly, even + just one agent lost was hard to stomach.

    +

    Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a + white knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into + the city. Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to + Be’Tram, it had better know he was coming, and he’d happily + send it straight to hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned, + this little game of cat and mouse had just gotten + personal.

    +
    +

    ~

    +
    +

    Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves + in a dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish + processing plant on the wharf. The accommodations are rough, + and the stench is abhorrent, but it’s the best that could be + procured in a pinch. And it should provide enough + seclusion.

    +

    The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near + the ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way + along the side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights, + before it reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a + single steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the + fish processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand + still, covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You’re glad + to know that the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene + is lacking in every sense.

    +

    Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is + a grey overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn’t like + what him and Inky were about to do, but they didn’t have much + they could do about it. They would be vulnerable for the + duration of the ritual. But Agent 7 and Confidence were there + to help mitigate that risk. Alex and Agent 7 had taken every + precaution they could think of.

    +

    The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires, + and alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones + around the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to + Agent 7 for recon. And that was on top of the double barred + steel doors, and reinforced glass box they’d chosen as their + hide out. Meticulously planned, Alex expected no less from + Agent 7.

    +

    See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then + some. He was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense + that came from years of close calls. He was, simply put, the + right man for the job, when that job was keeping your + unconscious ass alive.

    +

    Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky. + “Apologies for the smell, it turns out there’s a strong + correlation between disgust and seclusion, but I believe we + should at least be safe here. Safer than we would have been + back home. I’m ready if you are, as ready as I’ll ever be that + is.”

    +
    +

    The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon + Club this evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found + on this plane of existence. It won’t appear until a week and a + half from now, on the last day of the month.

    +

    Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the + Wandering Bazaar will be on that day. With a small bucket of + red paint and a large brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on + the ground at the location. He sits nearby, making sure + careless passersby and mischievous kids don’t disturb it, but + otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies of the bustle + of shopping and commerce.

    +

    At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps + vigilant watch, alert to every movement and disturbance.

    +

    And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in + the office in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a + dark circle that has been smudged on the floor with a paste + made of ash and salt. Painted on the ground is a second + Linking Sigil, connecting this spot to Confidence’s, allowing + the energies of the two locations to co-mingle. There is also + the Dream Sigil, which will connect this place to the + Dreaming.

    +

    Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions + in the center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle + is alleged to be made of the flesh and fat of a certain + nightmare. Its hand and eye bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil + is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the key. The catalyst that + will cause all of the otherwise inert metaphysical particles + to become volatile and reactive. It is what will allow you to + actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the Sea of + Dreams.

    +

    Per the shop witch’s instructions, the Nyxmaer has been + placed on a thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax + will soften and eventually allow the large metal nail in its + side to fall. When it strikes the plate, you will awaken, + exiting the Dreaming. You expect hours may pass in the realm + of sleep. But only about thirty minutes will pass here.

    +

    Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter, + facing Bread in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky’s + side.

    +

    It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical + candles set around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady + rain beats on the roof and the windows of the building. The + smell of fish is faint but ever-present. A constant reminder + of the small creatures that have left their bodies in a + fashion far more permanent and irreversible than the + separation of spirit and body you are about to experience. You + hope.

    +

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    +
      +

    • How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in + Bread?

      • +

    • What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the + Dreaming?

      • +

    • What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being + exposed in the dreamland, the realm of metaphor?

      • +
    + ]]> +     +     + + 60 + dozens@tilde.team (dozens) + 60 - Tue, 31 Jan 2023 19:11:47 +-0700 + Tue, 31 Jan 2023 19:11:48 -0700 + + 00060 +
    +

    Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is + definitely strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him + with his impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately + the same can’t be said for his roguish good looks, as he’s + found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he + remembers.

    +

    Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment, + and he promptly moves on with assessing the situation.

    +

    “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are + terrible at fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a + dreadfully important meeting across town.” turning to address + Inky, “We need to make a break for it, what’d the witch tell + you? Envision our goal or something? This is really a little + outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise.. + unless..”

    +

    Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a + terminal prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at + blinding speed at the digital window, a quick bypass there, a + root access escalation there.

    +

    “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older + kernel, about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as + needed. Here I’m giving us sudo access, should we need + it.”

    +

    “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns”

    + 
    find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
    +
    +

    It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he + corrects ‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to + the chipmunk instead of to the squirrel.

    +

    Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It + squeals in delight.

    +

    In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell + of what can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns + has just vanished.

    +

    The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts + scooping up acorns by the armful and shoving them into its + mouth by the dozen. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it + says around a mouthful of nuts. “Here…” It tosses you a large + square silver coin with a round hole drilled in the center. On + one side is the number twenty-one next to a picture of a + curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the number + five and a picture of a flail.

    +

    “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all + I have,” it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide + its nuts. Hopefully somewhere more secure this time.

    +

    If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the + hole, you see the dreamscape before you as though looking + through a cloudy film. All the same stuff is there, but it’s + hazy and shadowy.

    +

    Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out + of hailing distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes. + Dark shadows pool restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the + shadows leap up and take the form of demons the like of which + words cannot describe, before falling and returning to shadow + once more. The figure wears a large spherical helmet of + obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of a rainbow + of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet + like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel + sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels + a tug, a familiarity. Something about this character is + familiar to you, but you cannot place it.

    +

    When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape + both disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted + landscape reappears but the figure is gone.

    +

    You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather + intently from the branches below.

    +

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    + ]]> +     +     57 dozens@tilde.team (dozens) @@ -553,236 +863,6 @@ trap sleep INT EXIT ]]> - - 58 - dozens@tilde.team (dozens) - 58 - Sat, 21 Jan 2023 16:24:45 --0700 - Sun, 29 Jan 2023 11:02:32 -0700 - - 00058 -
    -

    (A week prior)

    -

    The secretary collected the stack of papers that had - accumulated at one corner of the desk. “This might help,” she - said, setting down a bundle of herbs with white and pink - flowers in place of the papers.

    -

    Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl’s - plumage. “Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It’ll help make - the stench more bearable when they find the remains.”

    -

    The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as - the words sank in. “That’s not what I meant! It’s for the - circle,” she clarified.

    -

    Seeing the imp’s preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to - regain their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice. - “Beaker’s associates have picked up the empanada shop - proprietor and transported him to an undisclosed location. - There will be a retinue with him at all times.”

    -

    Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room - before responding, “Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I - do not return by the indicated time, please activate the - hitsuzen protocol. As precaution.”

    -

    The secretary looked at Inky in concern. “Is everything all - right? If you’re still troubled by the hotelier, accidents - happen. A single incident—”

    -

    “Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He - was probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the - other stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after - the melon vendor disappeared.”

    -

    Salvia’s violet eyes narrowed. “What, the fruit vendor? - Didn’t the tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get - rid of a neighbor’s nest of snakes.”

    -

    Inky only raised an eyebrow at her.

    -

    The secretary let out a low curse. “You didn’t tell her. - You didn’t want her to worry,” she said aloud in realization. - She sighed. “She’s going to be pretty angry with you when she - finds out, you know.”

    -

    Inky offered her a sardonic smile. “Making people angry is - my job. You of all people know this well. In the event of my - timely demise I’m sure the others would find it cause for a - grand celebration.” They replied matter-of-factly before - returning to smoothing the feathers of one bird wing.

    -

    Salvia shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. You’ll - make it back, Ink. What then—”

    -

    “Then our fair Lady’s ire would be the least of the - problems.”

    -
    -

    ~

    -
    -

    Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He’d received - word of agent 5’s demise that morning, and had been the only - thing on his mind since. 5, no Be’tram knew the risks, we all - knew the risks defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly? - He’d snuck down to the wharf once he’d heard, making sure to - cover his tracks and dodge any potential witnesses. He even - managed to slip past the police cordon they’d setup around the - body. What he’d found wasn’t pretty, it looked like Be’Tram - had suffered in his final moments. The bruising around his - neck pointed to strangulation, with some sort of cloth, - perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there wasn’t a cut, - burn, shot or something of the likes on his otherwise.

    -

    The kill had been intimate.

    -

    Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be’Tram’s eye - had been hard, but he’d of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his - right eye was a recording device, it could only catch the last - 15m or so of what he had seen, but it would give him a clear - look at what had happened. And potentially lead Alex to the - killer. Miserable business, but Be’Tram knew it could make a - difference.

    -

    Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted - the eye, and made his way well away from the area before it - went off obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an - old friend, but it was too dangerous to leave.

    -

    And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little - purple red critical for the sewer hideout. He’d had time to - send out a drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was - reassuring. Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks - upon racks of servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The - effectively of the destruction was delightful, in a sick sort - of desperate way. Alex felt assured that most if not all of - the equipment was useless, but this spelled the end of a - valuable listening outpost. And whoever had done it wasn’t - part of the slag pile.

    -

    Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his - burbled in quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the - Melon vendor’s death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but - none of them held true; some said the city had become - dangerous, a crime syndicate had arisen in the neighboring - city block another thought, and did you hear about the - explosion at the wharf the other night, the city was electric, - yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the issue.

    -

    As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses - strode past the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling - the note from beneath the coffee cup, left for her.

    - 
    4 -> 3
-Daylight breaks on the morrow
-The suns rays make chase
-casting soft cloth
-across the nap of nature's neck
-
-So, night relents and gives way
-biding time until
-it can rule
-in its own domain
    -

    For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled - carelessly on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf. - But for Agent 3 it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s - demise recovered from his eyecam, one part orders; stay low - and we’ll strike these bastards from the shadows, on our - terms, on our ground. Similar missives were delivered to - Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were dwindling rapidly, even - just one agent lost was hard to stomach.

    -

    Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a - white knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into - the city. Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to - Be’Tram, it had better know he was coming, and he’d happily - send it straight to hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned, - this little game of cat and mouse had just gotten - personal.

    -
    -

    ~

    -
    -

    Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves - in a dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish - processing plant on the wharf. The accommodations are rough, - and the stench is abhorrent, but it’s the best that could be - procured in a pinch. And it should provide enough - seclusion.

    -

    The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near - the ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way - along the side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights, - before it reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a - single steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the - fish processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand - still, covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You’re glad - to know that the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene - is lacking in every sense.

    -

    Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is - a grey overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn’t like - what him and Inky were about to do, but they didn’t have much - they could do about it. They would be vulnerable for the - duration of the ritual. But Agent 7 and Confidence were there - to help mitigate that risk. Alex and Agent 7 had taken every - precaution they could think of.

    -

    The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires, - and alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones - around the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to - Agent 7 for recon. And that was on top of the double barred - steel doors, and reinforced glass box they’d chosen as their - hide out. Meticulously planned, Alex expected no less from - Agent 7.

    -

    See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then - some. He was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense - that came from years of close calls. He was, simply put, the - right man for the job, when that job was keeping your - unconscious ass alive.

    -

    Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky. - “Apologies for the smell, it turns out there’s a strong - correlation between disgust and seclusion, but I believe we - should at least be safe here. Safer than we would have been - back home. I’m ready if you are, as ready as I’ll ever be that - is.”

    -
    -

    The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon - Club this evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found - on this plane of existence. It won’t appear until a week and a - half from now, on the last day of the month.

    -

    Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the - Wandering Bazaar will be on that day. With a small bucket of - red paint and a large brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on - the ground at the location. He sits nearby, making sure - careless passersby and mischievous kids don’t disturb it, but - otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies of the bustle - of shopping and commerce.

    -

    At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps - vigilant watch, alert to every movement and disturbance.

    -

    And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in - the office in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a - dark circle that has been smudged on the floor with a paste - made of ash and salt. Painted on the ground is a second - Linking Sigil, connecting this spot to Confidence’s, allowing - the energies of the two locations to co-mingle. There is also - the Dream Sigil, which will connect this place to the - Dreaming.

    -

    Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions - in the center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle - is alleged to be made of the flesh and fat of a certain - nightmare. Its hand and eye bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil - is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the key. The catalyst that - will cause all of the otherwise inert metaphysical particles - to become volatile and reactive. It is what will allow you to - actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the Sea of - Dreams.

    -

    Per the shop witch’s instructions, the Nyxmaer has been - placed on a thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax - will soften and eventually allow the large metal nail in its - side to fall. When it strikes the plate, you will awaken, - exiting the Dreaming. You expect hours may pass in the realm - of sleep. But only about thirty minutes will pass here.

    -

    Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter, - facing Bread in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky’s - side.

    -

    It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical - candles set around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady - rain beats on the roof and the windows of the building. The - smell of fish is faint but ever-present. A constant reminder - of the small creatures that have left their bodies in a - fashion far more permanent and irreversible than the - separation of spirit and body you are about to experience. You - hope.

    -

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    -
      -

    • How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in - Bread?

      • -

    • What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the - Dreaming?

      • -

    • What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being - exposed in the dreamland, the realm of metaphor?

      • -
    - ]]> -     -     54 dozens@tilde.team (dozens) diff --git a/www/spoilers.html b/www/spoilers.html index 7a2f940..a2b8cd8 100644 --- a/www/spoilers.html +++ b/www/spoilers.html @@ -320,6 +320,7 @@ Master
  • 00057
  • 00058
  • 00059
    • +
  • 00060
  • Bestiary
  • Geography
    • @@ -359,11 +360,11 @@ Teale

    Stats

    -

    Total length: 78449 words / 335 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +

    Total length: 79062 words / 337 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)

    -

    There have been 210 messages posted over 202 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.03.

    +

    There have been 213 messages posted over 208 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.02.

    About

    This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.

    @@ -7114,6 +7115,69 @@ direction.

    “My acorns!” insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. “The Red Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help me?”

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    +

    00060

    +
    +

    Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is definitely +strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him with his impecable +fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately the same can’t be said for +his roguish good looks, as he’s found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit +more octopus-y than he remembers.

    +

    Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment, and he +promptly moves on with assessing the situation.

    +

    “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are terrible at +fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a dreadfully important meeting +across town.” turning to address Inky, “We need to make a break for it, +what’d the witch tell you? Envision our goal or something? This is +really a little outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise.. +unless..”

    +

    Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a terminal +prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at blinding speed at the +digital window, a quick bypass there, a root access escalation +there.

    +

    “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older kernel, +about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as needed. Here I’m +giving us sudo access, should we need it.”

    +

    “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns”

    +
    find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
    +
    +

    It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he corrects +‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to the +chipmunk instead of to the squirrel.

    +

    Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It squeals in +delight.

    +

    In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell of what +can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns has just +vanished.

    +

    The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts scooping up +acorns by the armful and shoving them into its mouth by the dozen. “Oh, +thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it says around a mouthful of nuts. +“Here…” It tosses you a large square silver coin with a round hole +drilled in the center. On one side is the number twenty-one next to a +picture of a curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the +number five and a picture of a flail.

    +

    “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all I have,” +it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide its nuts. Hopefully +somewhere more secure this time.

    +

    If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the hole, you +see the dreamscape before you as though looking through a cloudy film. +All the same stuff is there, but it’s hazy and shadowy.

    +

    Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out of hailing +distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes. Dark shadows pool +restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the shadows leap up and take +the form of demons the like of which words cannot describe, before +falling and returning to shadow once more. The figure wears a large +spherical helmet of obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of +a rainbow of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet +like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel sickened at +the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels a tug, a familiarity. +Something about this character is familiar to you, but you cannot place +it.

    +

    When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape both +disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted landscape reappears +but the figure is gone.

    +

    You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather intently from +the branches below.

    +

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    Bestiary

    Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria