From 2c55ae7a741a647acb177dae4a529024ba369112 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: "Christopher P. Brown" Date: Mon, 30 Jan 2023 17:25:44 -0700 Subject: [PATCH] 58 --- basement.order | 1 + src/epistolary/00058.md | 246 ++++++++++++++ src/notes.md | 3 +- www/index.html | 203 ++++++++++- www/rss.xml | 734 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++-------------- www/spoilers.html | 206 ++++++++++- 6 files changed, 1133 insertions(+), 260 deletions(-) create mode 100644 src/epistolary/00058.md diff --git a/basement.order b/basement.order index 8fc082a..5708fef 100644 --- a/basement.order +++ b/basement.order @@ -25,6 +25,7 @@ src/epistolary/00054.md src/epistolary/00055.md src/epistolary/00056.md src/epistolary/00057.md +src/epistolary/00058.md src/bestiary/index.md src/bestiary/aetherwael.md src/bestiary/aur.md diff --git a/src/epistolary/00058.md b/src/epistolary/00058.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d220cf --- /dev/null +++ b/src/epistolary/00058.md @@ -0,0 +1,246 @@ +--- +title: 00058 +created: Sat, 21 Jan 2023 16:24:45 -0700 +updated: Sun, 29 Jan 2023 11:02:32 -0700 +public: yes +syndicated: yes +--- +### 00058 {#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? diff --git a/src/notes.md b/src/notes.md index 0632ffd..cd696b4 100644 --- a/src/notes.md +++ b/src/notes.md @@ -9,7 +9,8 @@ updated: Sun, 27 Nov 2022 02:24:11 -0700 SPOILERS!! **THREADS** -- scissormen, huskies, dreamforms, gliftwirp the warpwefter +- kasutva, noodle head +- scissormen, huskies, dreamforms, gliftwirp the warpwefter, Ephermeris - Lady in Red ??? Tess, Piskin, Salvia ; Beaker (and Cio) trailing the BANDits? - Benefactor wants Crystals to kill a god - Golden Iris wants Crystals to make a new god diff --git a/www/index.html b/www/index.html index 7f82b0f..de4da66 100644 --- a/www/index.html +++ b/www/index.html @@ -318,6 +318,7 @@ Master
  • 00055
  • 00056
  • 00057
    • +
  • 00058
  • Bestiary
  • Geography
    • @@ -354,11 +355,11 @@ Teale

    Stats

    -

    Total length: 75661 words / 323 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +

    Total length: 77599 words / 331 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 202 messages posted over 192 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.05.

    +

    There have been 206 messages posted over 200 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.03.

    About

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

    @@ -6836,6 +6837,202 @@ squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage here.”

  • The time of the ritual is at hand.
  • What final preparations do you make before entering Dreamspace?
    • +

    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

    +

    Bestiary

    Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria

    diff --git a/www/rss.xml b/www/rss.xml index a04fd78..c6745f1 100644 --- a/www/rss.xml +++ b/www/rss.xml @@ -203,6 +203,488 @@ Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not imm ]]> + + 57 + dozens@tilde.team (dozens) + 57 - Mon, 16 Jan 2023 20:30:44 +-0700 + Fri, 20 Jan 2023 14:58:46 -0700 + + 00057 +
    +

    Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea, + “perfumed of rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I + appreciate it Inky, these past few days have been terribly + rough, and I’m rather tired of field rations.” Alex takes a + sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve been monitoring the + Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just me, but I + fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I + can’t be entirely certain.”

    +

    Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here. + As soon as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an + assignment, normally not an issue, but they wanted me to level + 3 of the busiest coffee shops in the bazar. I planted those + bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I bugged out. My + team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre + assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of + innocent lives are on the line here.”

    +

    “We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening + post in the sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s + where I’ve been hiding out, but I’m not certain it’s safe. + Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in the market, and this + vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk Market, looking + for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from HQ, + could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.”

    +

    “As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me, + there’s 5 of them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man + the ship and get the hell out of here in a few hours, and it + may be our best chance. But there’s the iris letter we need to + attend to, and I cannot for the life of me find anything, not + a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this bodes very + poorly for us.”

    +

    Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have + a ritual we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting + place.. I’m leery Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle + trusted you, and I do as well. If you think this is our best + shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try to perform this + dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris business + turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a + gun?

    +
    +

    ~

    +
    +

    “Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex. + Caution is likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously.

    +

    The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly + deranged grin. “I’m sure you have already seen many grave + dangers. What’s another one for the bucket list? What’s life + if not violent and messy? So many melons dismembered and laid + waste daily—”

    +

    As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks. + “Melon vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about + his neighbour’s boa constrictors for years. The serpents were + drawn to the rodents his fruits typically attracted, which + might not have been a problem were it not for them hanging out + at his stall and scaring off his customers. Maybe he finally + took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.” They + look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had + offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they + arrived, as he was already delivering to a household the next + district over.”

    +

    They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after + you? You didn’t do something horrid like help an old + grandmother cross the street on sockless skates, for + instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky continues, “As + for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered. Blavin + knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others. + Until he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he + doesn’t know that, then he is hardly a threat.”

    +

    Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to + get our attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve + minutes of fame, for the right price. Enlightenment would + probably be too much to ask of a nightmare. If you’d rather + take your team and make a run for it instead, that’s fine too. + If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you missed the hotel + fondue at Kelsun Peak.”

    +

    Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their + head. “No gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo + walking stick hanging from a hook on a wall next to a worn + coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls. It slides out quietly + to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel tube which, if + someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is sparsely + covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On + the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube + to end about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible + through the narrow window is a colourless liquid, most likely + a sedative or toxin, fills the reinforced steel interior.

    +

    They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that + Master Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have + been the most foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You + would do well to not make that mistake.”

    +
    +

    ~

    +
    +

    “It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”, + Alex says, as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes, + “that’ll be the dead man’s trigger going off in my + hideout.”

    +

    Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems, + that hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite, + assuming they don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the + fun..

    +

    Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so + lets bring the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a + lead on this with this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take + the risk. I won’t run from this fight, my uncle sure as hell + wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out with a magnificient bang. + Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo.

    +

    Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another + hideout in the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild. + It’s a little risky to head out that way, but none of my + Zabbix alerts indicate it was compromised. It has automated + IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe enough in there once + we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone comes for us, + and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We should + bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the + duck.

    +

    Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best + if you got the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe, + and I don’t want to see you become collateral here. Head down + to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5 meet you there, he’ll help you + and your family lay low until all of this blows over.”

    +
    +

    ~

    +
    +

    At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as + well do as Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks + away, and turtle soup is really out of fashion these + days.”

    +

    Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning + about fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap + carrier draped in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you + don’t mind if I bring along a guest as well.”

    +

    The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse, + with transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured + by sliding shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a + woven, web-like pattern and adorned with a string of feathers + hangs from one side. On the opposite side is a double door + with a miniature knob over each door. Inky lightly taps on one + of the doors, and at a low click coming from within in + response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps + to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside. + The bird opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly + across the occupants in the room before dozing off again.

    +

    “This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain + shared connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I + asked their caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko + will accompany me for the ritual. Her brother is at another + location and can send a message if a need arises.” Inky + explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a minor + indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle + owls, are very good at negotiating with those of the + ravens.”

    +

    They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little + temperamental, but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse + doors, Inky turns back to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather + not reveal the location of your hideout to any more people + than necessary. Her carrier will remain covered on the way in + and out.”

    +
    +

    Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in + shadow, far from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of + funerals. Often under these very circumstances, in fact. And + he always keeps his distance out of respect.

    +

    For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and + trousers. And his bright red colors would be a sign of + disrespect among the mourners. Secondly and most importantly, + he himself is the one who put the man in the ground.

    +

    Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the + sysorcer. Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for + him. When he realized that one of the agents had been in + contact with the melon vendor, he knew that Popplewick could + and would identify the warpwefter if pressured.

    +

    Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon + vendor. Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from + the Cinderlands, his family came to Vay’Nullar following the + Artifice Wars when he was just a boy. He grew up poor, and + often relied on the generosity of others. But eventually he + was able to support himself and his small family. He was proud + of the life he had built.

    +

    So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one + night when Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the + assassin slipped a bag over his head and dragged him into a + dark alley. He cinched the bag tight, cutting off his air. + There was a brief struggle before Popplewick passed out and + Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him there, + unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took + but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.

    +

    Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until + only the widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her + chest. “Oh, Pepo,” she whispers to the headstone. “What can I + do now?”

    +

    When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She + meanders slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the + graveyard and down the hill. She steps into the wood. A flash + of red follows her at a distance.

    +

    She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the + child down on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at + her with solemn eyes. “I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to + the child. And that is all the explanation it gets.

    +

    She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her + go.

    +

    When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps + out of the shadows and crouches down beside the child. It + looks up and reaches for him. “Look at you,” he says to the + child as he scoops it up. “Who would throw you away? A + perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child. “A + sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come, + Rind, we have work to do.”

    +

    The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the + city.

    +

    ~

    +

    In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They + clearly struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for + Popplewick’s death and the widow’s weakness.

    +

    Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and + awkwardly turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears + the latch with a faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle + against the heavy iron door, pushing it slowly open, inch by + inch. A mechanism clicks inside and there is a whoosh of air + and then a boom as the bunker violently ignites. The tiny + figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer + tunnel.

    +

    Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and + crouches down by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered + and burned bundle of cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small + child standing at his elbow. “You must always acknowledge and + be grateful for those who sacrifice for you.” He starts to + untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It unfurls and + smooths out and stitches itself back together under his touch. + Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again + holding his red sash.

    +

    “Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s + hand, squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage + here.”

    +

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    +
      +
    • The time of the ritual is at hand.
      • +
    • What final preparations do you make before entering + Dreamspace?
      • +
    + ]]> +     +     + + 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) @@ -484,258 +966,6 @@ NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY ]]> - - 57 - dozens@tilde.team (dozens) - 57 - Mon, 16 Jan 2023 20:30:44 --0700 - Fri, 20 Jan 2023 14:58:46 -0700 - - 00057 -
    -

    Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea, - “perfumed of rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I - appreciate it Inky, these past few days have been terribly - rough, and I’m rather tired of field rations.” Alex takes a - sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve been monitoring the - Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just me, but I - fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I - can’t be entirely certain.”

    -

    Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here. - As soon as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an - assignment, normally not an issue, but they wanted me to level - 3 of the busiest coffee shops in the bazar. I planted those - bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I bugged out. My - team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre - assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of - innocent lives are on the line here.”

    -

    “We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening - post in the sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s - where I’ve been hiding out, but I’m not certain it’s safe. - Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in the market, and this - vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk Market, looking - for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from HQ, - could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.”

    -

    “As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me, - there’s 5 of them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man - the ship and get the hell out of here in a few hours, and it - may be our best chance. But there’s the iris letter we need to - attend to, and I cannot for the life of me find anything, not - a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this bodes very - poorly for us.”

    -

    Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have - a ritual we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting - place.. I’m leery Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle - trusted you, and I do as well. If you think this is our best - shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try to perform this - dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris business - turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a - gun?

    -
    -

    ~

    -
    -

    “Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex. - Caution is likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously.

    -

    The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly - deranged grin. “I’m sure you have already seen many grave - dangers. What’s another one for the bucket list? What’s life - if not violent and messy? So many melons dismembered and laid - waste daily—”

    -

    As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks. - “Melon vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about - his neighbour’s boa constrictors for years. The serpents were - drawn to the rodents his fruits typically attracted, which - might not have been a problem were it not for them hanging out - at his stall and scaring off his customers. Maybe he finally - took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.” They - look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had - offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they - arrived, as he was already delivering to a household the next - district over.”

    -

    They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after - you? You didn’t do something horrid like help an old - grandmother cross the street on sockless skates, for - instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky continues, “As - for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered. Blavin - knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others. - Until he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he - doesn’t know that, then he is hardly a threat.”

    -

    Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to - get our attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve - minutes of fame, for the right price. Enlightenment would - probably be too much to ask of a nightmare. If you’d rather - take your team and make a run for it instead, that’s fine too. - If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you missed the hotel - fondue at Kelsun Peak.”

    -

    Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their - head. “No gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo - walking stick hanging from a hook on a wall next to a worn - coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls. It slides out quietly - to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel tube which, if - someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is sparsely - covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On - the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube - to end about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible - through the narrow window is a colourless liquid, most likely - a sedative or toxin, fills the reinforced steel interior.

    -

    They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that - Master Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have - been the most foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You - would do well to not make that mistake.”

    -
    -

    ~

    -
    -

    “It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”, - Alex says, as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes, - “that’ll be the dead man’s trigger going off in my - hideout.”

    -

    Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems, - that hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite, - assuming they don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the - fun..

    -

    Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so - lets bring the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a - lead on this with this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take - the risk. I won’t run from this fight, my uncle sure as hell - wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out with a magnificient bang. - Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo.

    -

    Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another - hideout in the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild. - It’s a little risky to head out that way, but none of my - Zabbix alerts indicate it was compromised. It has automated - IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe enough in there once - we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone comes for us, - and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We should - bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the - duck.

    -

    Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best - if you got the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe, - and I don’t want to see you become collateral here. Head down - to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5 meet you there, he’ll help you - and your family lay low until all of this blows over.”

    -
    -

    ~

    -
    -

    At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as - well do as Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks - away, and turtle soup is really out of fashion these - days.”

    -

    Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning - about fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap - carrier draped in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you - don’t mind if I bring along a guest as well.”

    -

    The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse, - with transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured - by sliding shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a - woven, web-like pattern and adorned with a string of feathers - hangs from one side. On the opposite side is a double door - with a miniature knob over each door. Inky lightly taps on one - of the doors, and at a low click coming from within in - response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps - to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside. - The bird opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly - across the occupants in the room before dozing off again.

    -

    “This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain - shared connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I - asked their caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko - will accompany me for the ritual. Her brother is at another - location and can send a message if a need arises.” Inky - explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a minor - indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle - owls, are very good at negotiating with those of the - ravens.”

    -

    They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little - temperamental, but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse - doors, Inky turns back to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather - not reveal the location of your hideout to any more people - than necessary. Her carrier will remain covered on the way in - and out.”

    -
    -

    Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in - shadow, far from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of - funerals. Often under these very circumstances, in fact. And - he always keeps his distance out of respect.

    -

    For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and - trousers. And his bright red colors would be a sign of - disrespect among the mourners. Secondly and most importantly, - he himself is the one who put the man in the ground.

    -

    Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the - sysorcer. Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for - him. When he realized that one of the agents had been in - contact with the melon vendor, he knew that Popplewick could - and would identify the warpwefter if pressured.

    -

    Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon - vendor. Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from - the Cinderlands, his family came to Vay’Nullar following the - Artifice Wars when he was just a boy. He grew up poor, and - often relied on the generosity of others. But eventually he - was able to support himself and his small family. He was proud - of the life he had built.

    -

    So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one - night when Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the - assassin slipped a bag over his head and dragged him into a - dark alley. He cinched the bag tight, cutting off his air. - There was a brief struggle before Popplewick passed out and - Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him there, - unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took - but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.

    -

    Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until - only the widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her - chest. “Oh, Pepo,” she whispers to the headstone. “What can I - do now?”

    -

    When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She - meanders slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the - graveyard and down the hill. She steps into the wood. A flash - of red follows her at a distance.

    -

    She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the - child down on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at - her with solemn eyes. “I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to - the child. And that is all the explanation it gets.

    -

    She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her - go.

    -

    When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps - out of the shadows and crouches down beside the child. It - looks up and reaches for him. “Look at you,” he says to the - child as he scoops it up. “Who would throw you away? A - perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child. “A - sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come, - Rind, we have work to do.”

    -

    The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the - city.

    -

    ~

    -

    In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They - clearly struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for - Popplewick’s death and the widow’s weakness.

    -

    Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and - awkwardly turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears - the latch with a faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle - against the heavy iron door, pushing it slowly open, inch by - inch. A mechanism clicks inside and there is a whoosh of air - and then a boom as the bunker violently ignites. The tiny - figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer - tunnel.

    -

    Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and - crouches down by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered - and burned bundle of cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small - child standing at his elbow. “You must always acknowledge and - be grateful for those who sacrifice for you.” He starts to - untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It unfurls and - smooths out and stitches itself back together under his touch. - Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again - holding his red sash.

    -

    “Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s - hand, squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage - here.”

    -

    WHAT DO YOU DO

    -
      -
    • The time of the ritual is at hand.
      • -
    • What final preparations do you make before entering - Dreamspace?
      • -
    - ]]> -     -     55 dozens@tilde.team (dozens) diff --git a/www/spoilers.html b/www/spoilers.html index b7195d2..bea2b02 100644 --- a/www/spoilers.html +++ b/www/spoilers.html @@ -318,6 +318,7 @@ Master
  • 00055
  • 00056
  • 00057
    • +
  • 00058
  • Bestiary
  • Geography
    • @@ -357,11 +358,11 @@ Teale

    Stats

    -

    Total length: 75661 words / 323 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +

    Total length: 77599 words / 331 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 202 messages posted over 192 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.05.

    +

    There have been 206 messages posted over 200 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.03.

    About

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

    @@ -6839,6 +6840,202 @@ squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage here.”

  • The time of the ritual is at hand.
  • What final preparations do you make before entering Dreamspace?
    • +

    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?

      • +

    Bestiary

    Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria

    @@ -7236,7 +7433,8 @@ embers.

    THREADS