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@ -20,6 +20,7 @@ src/epistolary/00023.md
src/epistolary/00024.md
src/epistolary/00025.md
src/epistolary/00026.md
src/epistolary/00027.md
src/bestiary/index.md
src/bestiary/aur.md
src/bestiary/blahoblin.md

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---
title: 00027
created: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 14:14:31 -0600
updated: Fri, 28 Oct 2022 10:36:42 -0600
public: yes
syndicated: yes
---
### 00027 {#00027}
> Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one hand.
>
> It was lighter than it should be given the density of the contents
> within, wrapped in straw and thick brown weight-absorbent parcel
> paper for dry goods. Most of the clientele were merchants and
> cultists from other parts of the continent who ordered pallets to
> be shipped back from the port town and sold to select boutique
> grocers or spilled on altars. Inside was a block of congealed
> synthetic blood shaped like a mud brick, the dark crimson almost
> black under the shop's dim light.
>
> It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this particular
> supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the shipwreck would not
> arrive for several hours, the members of their merry tea party had
> wandered off to enjoy the local sights while they waited. Inky had
> inquired about the hemogoblins and learned in passing that there
> was a district at the western edge of the town where a smaller
> group had set up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip
> deep into the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were
> primarily wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one
> of the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with
> assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time and
> in larger quantities.
>
> Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was set to
> one side.
>
> What were they doing?
>
> If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn't any student of
> magic have already thought of it, let alone an experienced
> sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known the inevitable,
> but was too polite to refuse Inky's funny concoctions. Maybe deep
> down, Inky already knew too, but didn't want to say it out loud.
> That the long feather they thought they had seen among the tea
> leaves was actually a dagger. That they hadn't wanted to admit some
> problems could not be whisked away with some tincture or another.
> That they had failed, again.
>
> They hadn't searched enough for better ingredients to go into the
> pudding, hadn't reacted fast enough after noticing the sword had
> abruptly disappeared, hadn't thrown the large platter of mouldy
> meat the terrified waitress next to them had been holding at
> Blavin's head, or something. The sword had gotten what it demanded,
> and Inky couldn't be angry with it — it had never been subtle about
> what it wanted. Had the blood pudding worsened the effects? Potions
> had never been on Inky's menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain
> mild effects was straightforward enough, but curing chronic
> ailments was firmly in healers' territory and just as bewildering.
> While it may be true nobody could be held to account for the
> actions of another not in full control of themselves, and hardly
> those of a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose
> in other people's affairs was the surest way to get into trouble, a
> fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of wandering
> the continent.
>
> Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently for
> cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it back and now
> aboard the ship, how would they even give it to the wizard? Should
> they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín was truly rested and
> recovered, despite his insistence he was more than fine? Would it
> be an insulting reminder of weakness, despite the wizard having
> proven unusual mental fortitude in staving off the screams for
> blood as long as he had? Was this more of the same, adding to what
> they had (not) done?
>
> After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the producers'
> leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor's rags still reeking of cheap
> alcohol, and passing by the wizard's empty cabin on the way to the
> deck, places the messy bundle on the floorboards two steps from the
> door. Let the fates decide this one, because Inky's magic 0 ball
> sure doesn't make the best life choices.
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead of time.
All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet your contact,
Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named Inquire Within Upon
Everything.
Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would imply. The
bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of living
documentation, drawing heavily on the port town's cosmopolitan
mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine, decor, and beverage
can be found here mishmashed together irregardless of good taste. Its
contents are encyclopedic and claustrophobic. And yet it is not
without its own peculiar brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his fellow
patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that involves
passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to either hand,
inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish, fanfare, and
misdirection along the way.
He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an ear, several
fingers, and---he confesses to you---the heel of his left foot. "It's
why I walk so slow, you see." The other barflies call him "Lucky"
Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a certain kind of man---and Gerald is
one of them---can never have enough nicknames. After you buy him a
drink or three, he escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip
where the sloop *Diamond Howler* is docked. Its captain, Enid Barlow,
welcomes you aboard.
Before long, *Diamond Howler* pulls out under the command of Captain
Barlow and First Mate "Lucky" Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn't
too far off the coast, and you arrive fairly quickly.
"Aye, here she is. The SS RSS." says Captain Barlow mournfully. "You
can't see her from up here. But you rest assured, she's down there,
resting on the seabed. She was the best cargo runner on the Sugrin
back in her day! Distributing goods up and down the coast. Until the
day she disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure.
Still don't. But at least we know where she wound up!"
While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a large
water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge with each
step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around and bump into each
other inside the tank, releasing little effervescent bubbles that
fizzle and pop when they collide. "Here we go!" announces Mister
Three-Fingered, depositing the tank of jellies in front of you.
"Sailed through a big bloom of breathing bells just last week, didn't
we! Managed to scoop up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever
use a breathing bell before? No? Aw, it's easy! Ya just pull one on
over your head like a hood, and it'll breathe for ya while you're
below the waves!"
WHAT DO YOU DO
NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free to react
to anything that happened between arriving at the docks, meeting
Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding the Diamond Howler,
and sailing to the site of the wreck.
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html)

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@ -6,10 +6,14 @@ public: yes
---
## Geography
<details><summary>Map</summary>![Map](map.webp)</details>
Basmentaria is a group of islands that sits between the eastern Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.
There is Primora, the northern somewhat banana-shaped island.
There is Primora, the sparsely populated northern somewhat banana-shaped island. The city-state of Illivas, Primora’s only densely populated area, sits between Harshwind Glade and the mountains of Kelsun Peak.
And there is Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped island. Its largest city is Vay'Nullar, surrounded by the Gnomelands to the south, and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is the Rana'For Valley.
And there Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped island. Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, bordered by the Gnomelands to the south, and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is the Rana’For Valley.
The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and in the center is Ginnarak, the small archipelago comprising the Cinderlands, Ashen Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.
The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and in the center is the archipelago of Ginnarak, comprising the Cinderlands, Ashen Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.
[00022](#00022)

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@ -11,19 +11,19 @@ NAMES AND NPCS
Upcoming NPCs and/or monsters
- zai-ni
- zeyeknee
- standard ed
- three fingered gerald
- paladin of emacs
- monks of vim
- gnu zealots
- hinderbloke, gnu
- falterchap, gnu
- Hap-n-stance, moon rabbit: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit>
- Cyber Woman With Corn! -- <https://www.shutterstock.com/search/cyber-woman-with-corn>
- oracle - <https://lambdacreate.com/paste/midjourney.png>
- corn smut? - <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut>
- [ ] zai-ni
- [ ] zeyeknee
- [ ] standard ed
- [ ] paladin of emacs
- [ ] monks of vim
- [ ] hinderbloke, gnu
- [ ] falterchap, gnu
- [ ] Hap-n-stance, moon rabbit: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit>
- [ ] Cyber Woman With Corn! -- <https://www.shutterstock.com/search/cyber-woman-with-corn>
- [ ] oracle - <https://lambdacreate.com/paste/midjourney.png>
- [ ] corn smut? - <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut>
- [x] gnu zealots
- [x] three fingered gerald
CRYSTALS
@ -48,13 +48,10 @@ todo:
- [ ] mio's (Inky's) Handy Duffer Discette = HD Diskette = better stay away from magnets!!
- [ ] tea omen: abacus, feather, wide building, lynx
- [ ] MidJourney omen: priestly blood, demon
- [ ] ・゜゜・。。・゜゜\_o< QUACK!
- [ ] The Benefactor is Nullar
- [ ] Blavin is a secret agent, working for the Golden Iris, a secret society that wants to 'create balance' by seating a fourth god
- [ ] Blavin is a secret agent, working for the Golden Iris, a secret society that wants to 'create balance' by creating a fourth god
- [ ] Nullar got tired of being a god and wanted to die, and Neddas agreed to help him. Shit went bad and turned Liandt to stone, and Nullar's leg to stone. Now Nullar is trying to gather the Ginnarak crystals to assemble the *God Slayer* to attempt once more to end his own life.
completed:
- [x] ・゜゜・。。・゜゜\_o< QUACK!
- [x] The gang has a rival: the gophers of Retrieval Team 70
</details>

142
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@ -244,6 +244,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
<li><a href="#00025" id="toc-00025">00025</a></li>
<li><a href="#00026" id="toc-00026">00026</a></li>
<li><a href="#00027" id="toc-00027">00027</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -253,7 +254,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 22181 words / 94 minutes</p>
<p>Total length: 23381 words / 99 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -2696,6 +2697,118 @@ time.</p>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00027">00027</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one hand.</p>
<p>It was lighter than it should be given the density of the contents
within, wrapped in straw and thick brown weight-absorbent parcel paper
for dry goods. Most of the clientele were merchants and cultists from
other parts of the continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from
the port town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a mud brick,
the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim light.</p>
<p>It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this particular
supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the shipwreck would not
arrive for several hours, the members of their merry tea party had
wandered off to enjoy the local sights while they waited. Inky had
inquired about the hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a
district at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into the
Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily wholesalers,
and it had taken some convincing before one of the proprietors agreed to
sell a block of it, along with assurances Inky would purchase
exclusively from him next time and in larger quantities.</p>
<p>Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was set to one
side.</p>
<p>What were they doing?</p>
<p>If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any student of magic
have already thought of it, let alone an experienced sysorceror? In all
likelihood he had already known the inevitable, but was too polite to
refuse Inky’s funny concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too,
but didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they thought
they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a dagger. That they
hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could not be whisked away with some
tincture or another. That they had failed, again.</p>
<p>They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go into the
pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing the sword had
abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large platter of mouldy meat the
terrified waitress next to them had been holding at Blavin’s head, or
something. The sword had gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be
angry with it — it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the
blood pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s
menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly in
healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be true nobody
could be held to account for the actions of another not in full control
of themselves, and hardly those of a rogue weapon with a mind of its
own, sticking their nose in other people’s affairs was the surest way to
get into trouble, a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after
decades of wandering the continent.</p>
<p>Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently for cursed
objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it back and now aboard the
ship, how would they even give it to the wizard? Should they wait and
made sure Master Corraidhín was truly rested and recovered, despite his
insistence he was more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of
weakness, despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this more of
the same, adding to what they had (not) done?</p>
<p>After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the producers’
leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still reeking of cheap
alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty cabin on the way to the deck,
places the messy bundle on the floorboards two steps from the door. Let
the fates decide this one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make
the best life choices.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead of time.
All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet your contact,
Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named Inquire Within Upon
Everything.</p>
<p>Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would imply. The
bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of living documentation,
drawing heavily on the port town’s cosmopolitan mixture of culture.
Every kind of style, cuisine, decor, and beverage can be found here
mishmashed together irregardless of good taste. Its contents are
encyclopedic and claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own
peculiar brand of overwhelming, garish charm.</p>
<p>You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his fellow
patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that involves passing
his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to either hand, inside his
mouth, and back with lots of flourish, fanfare, and misdirection along
the way.</p>
<p>He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an ear, several
fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his left foot. “It’s why I
walk so slow, you see.” The other barflies call him “Lucky”
Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a certain kind of man—and Gerald is one
of them—can never have enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or
three, he escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
sloop <em>Diamond Howler</em> is docked. Its captain, Enid Barlow,
welcomes you aboard.</p>
<p>Before long, <em>Diamond Howler</em> pulls out under the command of
Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. The site
isn’t too far off the coast, and you arrive fairly quickly.</p>
<p>“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow mournfully. “You
can’t see her from up here. But you rest assured, she’s down there,
resting on the seabed. She was the best cargo runner on the Sugrin back
in her day! Distributing goods up and down the coast. Until the day she
disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still
don’t. But at least we know where she wound up!”</p>
<p>While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a large
water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge with each step.
Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around and bump into each other
inside the tank, releasing little effervescent bubbles that fizzle and
pop when they collide. “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered,
depositing the tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big
bloom of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop up
a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a breathing bell
before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on over your head like a
hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while you’re below the waves!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free to react
to anything that happened between arriving at the docks, meeting Gerald
and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding the Diamond Howler, and sailing
to the site of the wreck.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>
@ -2933,16 +3046,29 @@ manipulate cloudstuff into solid objects.
</dd>
</dl>
<h2 id="geography">Geography</h2>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Map</p>
</summary>
<figure>
<img src="map.webp" alt="Map" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Map</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
<p>Basmentaria is a group of islands that sits between the eastern
Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the northern somewhat banana-shaped island.</p>
<p>And there is Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped
island. Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, surrounded by the Gnomelands to
the south, and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is
the Rana’For Valley.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the sparsely populated northern somewhat
banana-shaped island. The city-state of Illivas, Primora’s only densely
populated area, sits between Harshwind Glade and the mountains of Kelsun
Peak.</p>
<p>And there Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped island.
Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, bordered by the Gnomelands to the south,
and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is the Rana’For
Valley.</p>
<p>The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and in the
center is Ginnarak, the small archipelago comprising the Cinderlands,
Ashen Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.</p>
center is the archipelago of Ginnarak, comprising the Cinderlands, Ashen
Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.</p>
<p><a href="#00022">00022</a></p>
<h2 id="cosmology">Cosmology</h2>
<p>In a fantasy setting where there objectively are deities who walk the
earth and interact with humans, “atheism” is sometimes erroneously used

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<title>BASEMENT QWEST</title>
<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
<item>
<title>27</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">27 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 14:14:31
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 28 Oct 2022 10:36:42 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00027">00027</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one
hand.</p>
<p>It was lighter than it should be given the density of the
contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown
weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the
clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the
continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port
town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a
mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim
light.</p>
<p>It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this
particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the
shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of
their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local
sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the
hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district
at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into
the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily
wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of
the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with
assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time
and in larger quantities.</p>
<p>Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was
set to one side.</p>
<p>What were they doing?</p>
<p>If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any
student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an
experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known
the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny
concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but
didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they
thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a
dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could
not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they
had failed, again.</p>
<p>They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go
into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing
the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large
platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had
been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had
gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it —
it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood
pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s
menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly
in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be
true nobody could be held to account for the actions of
another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of
a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in
other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble,
a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of
wandering the continent.</p>
<p>Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently
for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it
back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to
the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín
was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was
more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness,
despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this
more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?</p>
<p>After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the
producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still
reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty
cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the
floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this
one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best
life choices.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead
of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet
your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named
Inquire Within Upon Everything.</p>
<p>Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would
imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of
living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s
cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine,
decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together
irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and
claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar
brand of overwhelming, garish charm.</p>
<p>You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his
fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that
involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to
either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish,
fanfare, and misdirection along the way.</p>
<p>He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an
ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his
left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other
barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a
certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have
enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he
escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
sloop <em>Diamond Howler</em> is docked. Its captain, Enid
Barlow, welcomes you aboard.</p>
<p>Before long, <em>Diamond Howler</em> pulls out under the
command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky”
Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast,
and you arrive fairly quickly.</p>
<p>“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow
mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest
assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the
best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing
goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared.
Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t.
But at least we know where she wound up!”</p>
<p>While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a
large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge
with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around
and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little
effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide.
“Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the
tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom
of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop
up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a
breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on
over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while
you’re below the waves!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free
to react to anything that happened between arriving at the
docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding
the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>26</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">26 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly
on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between
Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage
to hoist the wizard to his feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod
to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The
duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time,
follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside
from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage
seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot
in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of
water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the
bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a
dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my
club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar
and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs
out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a
whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble.
Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From
his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the
wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all
kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is
currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it!
Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs,
with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may
be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today,
and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will
finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the
best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the
winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our
plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but
dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern
friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You are at a small port town on the northern tip of
Agendell, just past the Rana’For Valley. The sun is bright and
the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool
and salty. The floating island-city of Vay’Neddas, bridging
Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance
hanging in the northern sky.</p>
<p>Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies
and gear, which were generously provided to you by the
indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up
a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey
to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out
to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.</p>
<p>Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It
would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and
pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the
Sword of Yam’L.</p>
<p>The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of
“evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive
this whole time.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>TO THE SHIPWRECK</li>
<li>BLOODQUEST</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>23</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
@ -169,92 +395,6 @@
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>26</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">26 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly
on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between
Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage
to hoist the wizard to his feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod
to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The
duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time,
follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside
from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage
seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot
in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of
water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the
bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a
dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my
club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar
and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs
out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a
whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble.
Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From
his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the
wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all
kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is
currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it!
Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs,
with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may
be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today,
and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will
finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the
best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the
winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our
plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but
dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern
friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You are at a small port town on the northern tip of
Agendell, just past the Rana’For Valley. The sun is bright and
the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool
and salty. The floating island-city of Vay’Neddas, bridging
Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance
hanging in the northern sky.</p>
<p>Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies
and gear, which were generously provided to you by the
indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up
a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey
to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out
to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.</p>
<p>Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It
would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and
pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the
Sword of Yam’L.</p>
<p>The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of
“evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive
this whole time.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>TO THE SHIPWRECK</li>
<li>BLOODQUEST</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>24</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>

182
www/spoilers.html
View File

@ -244,6 +244,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
<li><a href="#00025" id="toc-00025">00025</a></li>
<li><a href="#00026" id="toc-00026">00026</a></li>
<li><a href="#00027" id="toc-00027">00027</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -256,7 +257,7 @@ id="toc-acknowledgements">Acknowledgements</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 22181 words / 94 minutes</p>
<p>Total length: 23381 words / 99 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -2699,6 +2700,118 @@ time.</p>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00027">00027</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one hand.</p>
<p>It was lighter than it should be given the density of the contents
within, wrapped in straw and thick brown weight-absorbent parcel paper
for dry goods. Most of the clientele were merchants and cultists from
other parts of the continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from
the port town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a mud brick,
the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim light.</p>
<p>It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this particular
supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the shipwreck would not
arrive for several hours, the members of their merry tea party had
wandered off to enjoy the local sights while they waited. Inky had
inquired about the hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a
district at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into the
Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily wholesalers,
and it had taken some convincing before one of the proprietors agreed to
sell a block of it, along with assurances Inky would purchase
exclusively from him next time and in larger quantities.</p>
<p>Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was set to one
side.</p>
<p>What were they doing?</p>
<p>If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any student of magic
have already thought of it, let alone an experienced sysorceror? In all
likelihood he had already known the inevitable, but was too polite to
refuse Inky’s funny concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too,
but didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they thought
they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a dagger. That they
hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could not be whisked away with some
tincture or another. That they had failed, again.</p>
<p>They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go into the
pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing the sword had
abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large platter of mouldy meat the
terrified waitress next to them had been holding at Blavin’s head, or
something. The sword had gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be
angry with it — it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the
blood pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s
menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly in
healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be true nobody
could be held to account for the actions of another not in full control
of themselves, and hardly those of a rogue weapon with a mind of its
own, sticking their nose in other people’s affairs was the surest way to
get into trouble, a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after
decades of wandering the continent.</p>
<p>Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently for cursed
objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it back and now aboard the
ship, how would they even give it to the wizard? Should they wait and
made sure Master Corraidhín was truly rested and recovered, despite his
insistence he was more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of
weakness, despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this more of
the same, adding to what they had (not) done?</p>
<p>After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the producers’
leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still reeking of cheap
alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty cabin on the way to the deck,
places the messy bundle on the floorboards two steps from the door. Let
the fates decide this one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make
the best life choices.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead of time.
All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet your contact,
Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named Inquire Within Upon
Everything.</p>
<p>Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would imply. The
bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of living documentation,
drawing heavily on the port town’s cosmopolitan mixture of culture.
Every kind of style, cuisine, decor, and beverage can be found here
mishmashed together irregardless of good taste. Its contents are
encyclopedic and claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own
peculiar brand of overwhelming, garish charm.</p>
<p>You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his fellow
patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that involves passing
his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to either hand, inside his
mouth, and back with lots of flourish, fanfare, and misdirection along
the way.</p>
<p>He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an ear, several
fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his left foot. “It’s why I
walk so slow, you see.” The other barflies call him “Lucky”
Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a certain kind of man—and Gerald is one
of them—can never have enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or
three, he escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
sloop <em>Diamond Howler</em> is docked. Its captain, Enid Barlow,
welcomes you aboard.</p>
<p>Before long, <em>Diamond Howler</em> pulls out under the command of
Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. The site
isn’t too far off the coast, and you arrive fairly quickly.</p>
<p>“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow mournfully. “You
can’t see her from up here. But you rest assured, she’s down there,
resting on the seabed. She was the best cargo runner on the Sugrin back
in her day! Distributing goods up and down the coast. Until the day she
disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still
don’t. But at least we know where she wound up!”</p>
<p>While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a large
water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge with each step.
Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around and bump into each other
inside the tank, releasing little effervescent bubbles that fizzle and
pop when they collide. “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered,
depositing the tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big
bloom of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop up
a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a breathing bell
before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on over your head like a
hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while you’re below the waves!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free to react
to anything that happened between arriving at the docks, meeting Gerald
and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding the Diamond Howler, and sailing
to the site of the wreck.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>
@ -2936,16 +3049,29 @@ manipulate cloudstuff into solid objects.
</dd>
</dl>
<h2 id="geography">Geography</h2>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Map</p>
</summary>
<figure>
<img src="map.webp" alt="Map" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Map</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
<p>Basmentaria is a group of islands that sits between the eastern
Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the northern somewhat banana-shaped island.</p>
<p>And there is Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped
island. Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, surrounded by the Gnomelands to
the south, and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is
the Rana’For Valley.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the sparsely populated northern somewhat
banana-shaped island. The city-state of Illivas, Primora’s only densely
populated area, sits between Harshwind Glade and the mountains of Kelsun
Peak.</p>
<p>And there Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped island.
Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, bordered by the Gnomelands to the south,
and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is the Rana’For
Valley.</p>
<p>The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and in the
center is Ginnarak, the small archipelago comprising the Cinderlands,
Ashen Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.</p>
center is the archipelago of Ginnarak, comprising the Cinderlands, Ashen
Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.</p>
<p><a href="#00022">00022</a></p>
<h2 id="cosmology">Cosmology</h2>
<p>In a fantasy setting where there objectively are deities who walk the
earth and interact with humans, “atheism” is sometimes erroneously used
@ -2998,26 +3124,29 @@ embers.</p>
</summary>
<p>NAMES AND NPCS</p>
<p>Upcoming NPCs and/or monsters</p>
<ul>
<li>zai-ni</li>
<li>zeyeknee</li>
<li>standard ed</li>
<li>three fingered gerald</li>
<li>paladin of emacs</li>
<li>monks of vim</li>
<li>gnu zealots</li>
<li>hinderbloke, gnu</li>
<li>falterchap, gnu</li>
<li>Hap-n-stance, moon rabbit: <a
<ul class="task-list">
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />zai-ni</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />zeyeknee</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />standard ed</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />paladin of emacs</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />monks of vim</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />hinderbloke, gnu</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />falterchap, gnu</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />Hap-n-stance, moon rabbit: <a
href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit"
class="uri">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit</a></li>
<li>Cyber Woman With Corn! – <a
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />Cyber Woman With Corn! – <a
href="https://www.shutterstock.com/search/cyber-woman-with-corn"
class="uri">https://www.shutterstock.com/search/cyber-woman-with-corn</a></li>
<li>oracle - <a href="https://lambdacreate.com/paste/midjourney.png"
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />oracle - <a
href="https://lambdacreate.com/paste/midjourney.png"
class="uri">https://lambdacreate.com/paste/midjourney.png</a></li>
<li>corn smut? - <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut"
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />corn smut? - <a
href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut"
class="uri">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut</a></li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" checked="" />gnu zealots</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" checked="" />three fingered
gerald</li>
</ul>
<p>CRYSTALS</p>
<p>Each crystal has an associated <em>element</em>, a <em>location</em>
@ -3069,20 +3198,17 @@ Discette = HD Diskette = better stay away from magnets!!</li>
building, lynx</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />MidJourney omen: priestly
blood, demon</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />・゜゜・。。・゜゜_o&lt;
QUACK!</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />The Benefactor is Nullar</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />Blavin is a secret agent,
working for the Golden Iris, a secret society that wants to ‘create
balance’ by seating a fourth god</li>
balance’ by creating a fourth god</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />Nullar got tired of being a god
and wanted to die, and Neddas agreed to help him. Shit went bad and
turned Liandt to stone, and Nullar’s leg to stone. Now Nullar is trying
to gather the Ginnarak crystals to assemble the <em>God Slayer</em> to
attempt once more to end his own life.</li>
</ul>
<p>completed:</p>
<ul class="task-list">
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled=""
checked="" />・゜゜・。。・゜゜_o&lt; QUACK!</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" checked="" />The gang has a
rival: the gophers of Retrieval Team 70</li>
</ul>