✨ appendix a
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src/acknowledgements.md
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---
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title: Appendix A
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created: Thu, 29 Dec 2022 15:46:36 -0700
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updated: Thu, 29 Dec 2022 15:46:37 -0700
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public: yes
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---
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## Appendix A: Barefoot Quackery
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Being apocryphal and supplemental material posted to the *Barefoot Quackery*
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thread on tildepals, including depictions of loose pages torn from books of the
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Runesocesius Library, and original fictions and other diversions, and more.
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### Cease and Desist
|
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> To: durrendal
|
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> From: LABATT
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> Subject: Cease and Desist Order
|
||||
>
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> To whom it may concern:
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||||
>
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> It has recently come to our attention that a personhood has withheld
|
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> important document(s) which affect the structural nature of a sensitive
|
||||
> publication, namely the [REDACTED] zine.
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||||
>
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> Please cease and desist immediately. You may comply with this order by
|
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> submitting the aforementioned document(s) to the designated drop-off point as
|
||||
> instructed on the imprint accompanying your submission form by midnight
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||||
> Coordinated Basmentaric Time (BTC) of Day 22 of Member 12 in the year 2202.
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>
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> Continued infringement represents an escalation and will result in sanctions,
|
||||
> including but not withstanding a remote cursery execution (RCE) on your
|
||||
> monitoring and calendar infrastructure.
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||||
>
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||||
> We reserve the right to pursue other corrective actions through
|
||||
> temporally-attuned means to protect the release timeline integrity of key
|
||||
> cultural assets.
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>
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> Sincerely,
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>
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> Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)
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|
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---
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> Dear sir and/or madame and/or bear and/or time travel NSA agent,
|
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>
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> We've read your cease and desist, and while we understand its intent, we're
|
||||
> unable at this time to comply, not through any inability of our own, but
|
||||
> rather through our inability to stop writing run on sentence; you see we
|
||||
> never truly learned how to grammar goodly and now we just go on and on, ad
|
||||
> nauseum, so on and so forth; truly it is a depressing and persistent problem,
|
||||
> if we were ever to find the correct punctuation to prevent these run ons from
|
||||
> happening we might be able to cease, potentially even desist, but probably
|
||||
> both at the same time, or neither all at once, we're really uncertain at this
|
||||
> point; all that is know is that nothing is truly known once you've gone this
|
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> far down the grammartical, and metaphorical, rabbit hole; to speak
|
||||
> metaphorically that is on a subject that is somewhat subjectively objective
|
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> while simultaneously being an objective objection to your subjective
|
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> summation of our grevious misgivings, truly one must infer that the meaning
|
||||
> of these metaphoric subjectively objective objections are subjective in their
|
||||
> own right, potentially reaching the height of metaphysical incanatation; one
|
||||
> could say this run on sentence is one giant invocation, a charm of warding
|
||||
> against cease and desist notices, to protect the poor photographer from his
|
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> abject abandonment of his own promises; though some may object to my absolute
|
||||
> misuse of proper punctuation and grammar to the point where said people
|
||||
> stopped reading long again and began readying pitchforks and torches, likely
|
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> they're on their way to Maine now ready to burn my witchy incantating self
|
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> for the hum dinger of a grammatical curse I sit here writing, but to these
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> people I say NAY, nay sir I object to your cease and desist, and to their
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> objection to this abject horror of a sentence, and I abject my throne as
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> well, for you know I once was a king, not a very rich king, but a king in my
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> own right; why yes, indeed I was, king of stream of concious ramblings
|
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> without respect for grammar, punctuation, or any of that high falootin
|
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> nonsense that the yonder rich kings hold dear, and which I hold to be a
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> dreadful and dire curse upon us all, but with that I really must bid you Good
|
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> Day madame, though let this not be an ending, but the begining of a wonderful
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> and delightful sort of cease and desist based relationship,
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|
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---
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> To: durrendal
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> From: LABATT
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> Subject: Re: Cease and Desist Order [#20221221-1946]
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||||
>
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||||
> To whom it may concern:
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||||
>
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||||
> Please be advised that any evidence you provided in your response may be used
|
||||
> against you in the event an injunction is filed against your personhood
|
||||
> should you fail to comply with the order. This includes any admission of
|
||||
> culpability or liability stemming from failure to submit the aforementioned
|
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> document(s) in a timely manner.
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>
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> LABATT is a renowned non-profit organisation dedicated to the preservation of
|
||||
> historical continuity of cultural works in the fabric of space-time. We
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> deplore the designation of "NSA agent" and invite you to learn more about our
|
||||
> mission and vision on our website and free seminars one of our offices across
|
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> Basmentaria.
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>
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> Sincerely,
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>
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||||
> Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)
|
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|
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### On the Origins of Santa Claws
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125
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On the Origins of Santa Claws
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Maximus N. Grinchescu
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It should heretofore be common knowledge that the Santa Claws of present day is
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the stuff of fantasy and make-believe, a story fabricated on the spur of the
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moment by some exasperated mother who could not for the life of her induce her
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children to behave. The very notion of reward in the form of toys and presents,
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or punishment in the lack thereof of aforementioned items, is no doubt
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appealing to many parents who are themselves motivated similarly and thus can
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only appeal to their offspring at the most superficial level. The lifelong goal
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in the pursuit of consumption has been drummed into these unfortunate
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children's heads from a young age, with thinly-veiled threats of a thorough
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mauling for those who dare to deviate from the well— and truly down— trodden
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path. It is the means by which the cycle of ignorance and conceit perpetuates
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among the unwashed masses — young mops bragging about having the largest
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present under the tree, to become adults boasting of receiving the most
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expensive gifts from a spouse or ever-widening court of suitors. The myth of
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Santa Claws is a gross distortion of facts disguised as a moralistic narrative
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that promotes annually renewing contracts of obedience in exchange for
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short-term material gains. Astonishingly, nary a word of doubt would be heard
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from the parents on the merits of accepting gifts from an obsessive stranger
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who prowls the streets at night watching their children sleep, in addition to
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claiming knowledge of the children's every move rivalling their own.
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It is regrettable that the image of Santa Claws in the eyes of many has been
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reduced to that of a jolly dangerous delivery worker. Little do they know that
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the real Santa Claws came from a long line of frockin — wandering folk who don
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a cassock and dedicate their lives to aiding the hungry, desperate and needy.
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On occasions for gifts, they gave to all regardless of whether they were
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perceived by friend or foe of the recipients to be good or evil, for such is
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the willingness of the frockin to set aside their quarrels on the Day of
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Bountiful Blessings. They travel across Basmentaria in fortles which house a
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multitude of rooms and supplies required to sustain their livelihoods. Inside
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the fortles were workshops in which carpenters, woodworkers, drafters, tailors,
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various craftspeople as well as farmers and cooks plied their skills.
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One frockin in particular became known for rescuing ransomed young maidens and
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poor indentured servants who faced torture by the oil vat at the hands of cruel
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employers in the nick of time that they became known as Nick, Blessed of
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Neddas, or Nick of Mairas as they gained grateful followers and admirers.
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Despite this, the frockin was modest in manner and rarely took credit for their
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acts of generosity. Because of this trait and the loss of the few, limited
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first-hand accounts of those with close dealings with the frockin in a fire
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shortly before they assumed the care and upkeep of a pair of fortles, little is
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known of their childhood circumstances or early life. Enrolment records at an
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vocational institution in Vay'Neddas confirmed that they studied for several
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years in the city, and inherited their uncle's position of managing the
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activities within the fortles sometime after their return. Other historical
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biographers contend the frockin's name was in fact Nikolas Klaus, which later
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became Claws in children's stories as to make them most palatable to
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impressionable young readers.
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Questions as to the nature of their appearance are generally of little import
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save for lining the pockets of picture book publishers and mass producers of
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wax figure collectibles. Those who have had the fortune to glimpse their person
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described a wizened countenance of long hair, fulsome beard and whiskers
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gleaming white and silver, amid which nestled a pair of warm amber eyes, a nose
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slightly rosy from the cold and an affable smile. A genial face rested atop a
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large stocky frame, as was common among those with the blood and strength of
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noble mountain lions. As in the period of their ancestors, they wore a dark
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---
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126
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brown cloak with a hood over their cassock to ward against the cold weather,
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though this changed after one occasion when they narrowly avoided being run
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over by a semi-autonomous cart. The abominable thing had zipped by in front of
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Santa at a beard's distance away as they emerged on the roof of a house through
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its chimney.
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At this juncture it should be duly noted that the idea of Santa Claws typically
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making their entrance into homes by clambering down chimneys, even preferring
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it as a method of entry, is as preposterous as the worthless rags that
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circulated such claims. No one of sound mind would shimmy through filthy,
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narrow, often half-crumbling chutes — carrying a large sack, no less — if they
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could safely enter through the front door. For the latter was exactly what
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Santa and their predecessors did, and still do to this day in some villages, in
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a time when people were less leery of their neighbours and either left their
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doors unlocked, or placed a spare key under the doormat so the household next
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door could tend to the plants or the children's pepper pigs while they visited
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relatives farther away.
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According to a later account by one of the crew on Santa's fleet, translated
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and transcribed for the frockins' annals by a chronicler, what had actually
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transpired was this: on that night while nearing the end of their rounds, Santa
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found signs of flooding at one of the houses pointing to a burst pipe, the
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water having seeped out under the front door and turned to ice in the frigid
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temperatures. Tender of heart, Santa retrieved their fleet repair kit that was
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kept for emergencies and ventured into the house to repair the broken pipe, in
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lieu of simply leaving the presents outside on a stump where a tree once stood
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and riding on. It was then that an obstacle presented itself. The house owners,
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having gone away for the holidays, had a magical apparatus set on the door that
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would raise an alarm and curse if opened by an intruder. No house key was found
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under the mat after defrosting the ice over it enough to pull off the cover.
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The windows were likewise sealed shut and latched. This ultimately necessitated
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Santa entering and leaving through the chimney. Doubtless some fool stumbled
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upon the moment Santa exited the chimney opening, nearly flattened by the
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aerial hazard of a self-navigating cart, and got it into their head that Santa
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Claws was one for chimney-climbing as sport.
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When the good Mrs. Claws found out about the near mishap, they were so worried
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about their partner venturing out on missions that as a precaution, they had
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Santa promise to wear a bright red outfit for such occasions. The thick
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overcoat had a white faux fur trim that reflected the moons' light, matching
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hat and trousers and a shining gold belt buckle so that the carts' sensors can
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sight him even on the darkest nights. Completing the outfit were gloves with
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open seams at the base of each finger to reveal their claws without taking off
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the gloves completely. The whole ensemble was made by Mrs. Claws themselves,
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and it was said they had gotten the inspiration for the white trimmings from
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their partner's flowing mane. Members of the fleet were also offered a similar
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change in clothing and the flying multibeast was re-painted in accordance with
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the new colours that are now festooned in the streets and shops all over
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Basmentaria each year as the Day of Bountiful Blessings draws near.
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A brief word on the aforementioned fleet: much remains unconfirmed about the
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origins or evolution of the transport employed by Santa Claws to cover long
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distances, and the arcana that powers the current fleet remains a subject of
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heated speculation. Based on surviving annals that were once on public display,
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before the twin fortles vanished one night were never seen again, it is
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generally thought that the earliest fleets were small fortles guided by a crew
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of twelve members excluding Santa Claws. In time the fortles were retired and
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replaced with aerial multibeasts for lighter weight and potential for greater
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velocity. Contrary to popular jingles, the multibeast is not pulled by
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reindeer, which are neither known for speed nor stamina, but are headed by rain
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horses specially raised for both as as well their ability to withstand much of
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### Sunrise over Kelsun Peak
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```
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that night we ride up the mountain
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deep within a Saldin Sea of mist
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our way up becomes cloudy, uncertain
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crying, heavy air turns to water
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the cage starts to shudder and shake,
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a venerable old man in a seizure
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you clung to my arm as a bear cub
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to its mother in the darkness,
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the lone candle snuffed out in a huff
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of a petulant wind throwing a tantrum
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I grip the handle hard enough,
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vowing to be strong for both of us
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when we are called from fitful slumber
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by twin rays of warming distant light
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promising more, brother and sister
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a cold breakfast or a hot chocolate
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lastly and first, the sight of you
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eyes open, hair tousled, immaculate
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the rusty gondola creaks a little
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under our combined weight, groaning
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at our youthfully excessive flair
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but we did not care, with our hearts
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facing the sun, far lighter as one
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than the corporeal sum of its parts
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a new day breaks, yolk radiant orange
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reveal the finest tempera brushed over
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neat rows of tea plants at the grange
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a gleaming dewdrop at the tip of a leaf,
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we dangle on the cusp, an infinite moment
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in the sky, we dare to hope, to believe
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```
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40
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### How to Grow Fortified Pumpkins
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How to Grow Fortified Pumpkins
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by Oles Macdonald
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So you wanna grow fortified pumpkins, huh? Well, first things first, you're
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gonna need a fort. You got yer self one, right? An' I don't mean those blow-up
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bouncing bollocks for kids, those take up room and don't do jack. No sirree,
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you need to get yer self a rock fort. The real hard structure, not mouldy
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cheese. Snow's not gonna cut it, fun for the young 'uns maybe but kills yer
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plants with frostbite fast. Sand just gets washed away in a storm. An' don't
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get me started on pillow forts, them things should be banned. Blocks sunlight,
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flaps like the village gossips with a bit o' wind letting in rain every which
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way, feathers inside them pillows take too long to dry when wet, I can go on
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an' on about it all day but we're talking about growing the best fortified
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pumpkins so let's stick with it.
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Bottom line is if you ain't got one then build one from rocks, it's what it
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says on the tin. Just make sure to choose large dry ones, flat-like, you
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wouldn't wanna get sick from cave mold before you even get this sucker off the
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ground, and flats will save you time cutting all them sides. Build your fort on
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a sunny part of yer land away from trees. Pumpkins love to suntan, even shows
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on their skins in some varieties. Stack up some rocks like yer building a brick
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wall or grill. The fort wall should be about a hand's thickness fer insulation
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an' at least twelve by four-an'-twenty by six feet on the inside. Spread
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fisherfolk nets over the top to let in the sun, rain and bees to do their thing
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for yer pumpkin plants but keep them birds out. You can throw cured tarp over
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it an' anchor it to the fort wall if a big storm comes along. Don' forget to
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leave an opening so you can fit a door later. Lets you get in an' out easy, but
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not so easy that the rats an' other rodents get to yer pumpkins first.
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Door-wise there's no need to be a fusspot about it, put in something sturdy
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with a clever latch or a ward if you can get a hold of one so the raccoon cats
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can't pick the lock with their claws.
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Yer gonna need three feet of the height right off the bat for a raised bed,
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specially if you don't know fer sure if the land below yer feet is cursed or
|
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not, or can't tell horse sh—t apart from dark clay to check yer soil is good.
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Line the inside of the fort with sheet metal where you'll load up with good
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soil in a bit, an' make sure you can get to all sides. No sense growing a bed
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full of pumpkins if you can't reach over to grab 'em later. You can also use
|
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wood but they will rot something nasty if you don't find the right wood that
|
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takes to water well an' have a habit of overwatering loads, then the whole
|
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thing falls apart under the weight. Sheet metal like the stuff used fer roofs
|
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will do the job, just bang a few together like a box with no lid no bottom an'
|
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yer in business. If you'd rather be safe than sorry, you can make it even
|
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sturdier on the inside with a steel bar or two across the width of the bed.
|
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Fill a third of the bed with straw, ol' wood, alfalfa or stuff like that you
|
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got laying around, then the rest of the way up to about the third knuckle's
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length away from the top edge with good quality compost. Every farmer worth
|
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their weight in potatoes knows good quality compost is the real gold. As I
|
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always tell new folks lookin' to set up right, go big on compost or go home.
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Once you've filled up the bed, dig a few rows of shallow trenches in the soil
|
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about a half-an'-a-feet or two apart an' two knuckles deep at yer pinky finger.
|
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Soak yer seeds overnight and plant 'em in a feet apart in the rows. Cover 'em
|
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up and mulch that beauty of a bed. Give 'em a good thorough watering every
|
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other day, or every day if it's like an oven hot out there, an' Bread's yer
|
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butter. Halfway through the season if they're lookin' a little starved, fortify
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'em by making some compost tea to freshen 'em up. You can use hemogoblin blood
|
||||
too if you got that, it's just a pricier way to do the same thing with the same
|
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results, an' who likes payin' more when you can throw a few fish bones
|
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together, boil the whole lot, leave it to rot an' get free plant tea? Not me.
|
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Now when they start flowering, nip off any extra flowers on the same vine so
|
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the pumpkin gets more nourishment an' grows bigger. For a lot of newbs it's a
|
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chore, but wait 'til you see the size of these pups. If you don't wanna mess
|
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about staking up vines, let 'em run around a bit and that's hunky dory too.
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Just be sure they aren't sittin' in a swimming pool, that's a one-way ride to
|
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mushy pumpkins an' root rot. An' dangnabbit do I hate mushy pumpkins.
|
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||||
### An Overview of S.T.A.G Drones
|
||||
|
||||
This guide is meant to introduce the operate (you) to the functionality of
|
||||
features of the S.T.A.G drone. For in depth usage and extensibility please
|
||||
review the source code which can be found at your local GNU guild.
|
||||
|
||||
S.T.A.G - (S)py (T)ransmat (A)utonomous (G)izmo
|
||||
|
||||
As the name implies, the S.T.A.G drone is a capable and compact automous gizmo
|
||||
capable of relaying video, audio, & gps information to its operator. Unlike
|
||||
most convention drones it requires no input to operate, simply supplying it
|
||||
with an object is sufficient. The on board (A)mber (I)mp handles the actual
|
||||
control. It is important that you retrieve the A.I. from the drone in the event
|
||||
you choose to discard, or risk the S.T.A.G. in any way, remember Imp's are
|
||||
sentient beings.
|
||||
|
||||
Once an operator has deployed a S.T.A.G drone they'll recieve information back
|
||||
from it in the format of a twtxt feed, and open source plain text format which
|
||||
is easily parsed. GPS coordinates are reported as JSON strings inside of this
|
||||
feed, audio is transliterated to text, and video is relayed as a series of
|
||||
ascii characters. All an operate needs to do to view these feeds is to cat the
|
||||
return text to a terminal and it should render. If the operater does not have
|
||||
access to a terminal, or is not a practice sysorcerer, the video feed can be
|
||||
consumed by retrieving the S.T.A.G drone and holding it close to your ear. The
|
||||
A.I have been trained in number Basementarian languages and are happy to
|
||||
dutifully describe the scenes they've seen.
|
||||
|
||||
Each of these feeds can be subscribed to separately
|
||||
|
||||
The aggregate feed can be accessed via:
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn>
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
Simiarly these feeds provide filtered results by name:
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/gps>
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/audio>
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/video>
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
### Gremlin Sysorcer
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
The gremlin stretched in his padded ergonomic chair and stifled a yawn. He had
|
||||
just finished beating the final Heroic Fantasy game for the twelfth time, when
|
||||
a flood of identical alerts flashed across his second screen: `Outgoing
|
||||
connection blocked on port 443 from 10.10.12.26` He reached into the machine,
|
||||
looked up the process and found two unfamiliar entries bouncing in and out of
|
||||
hottop's list for most computering units being consumed. The new intern had
|
||||
probably downloaded some application with an auto-updater and left it installed
|
||||
on the workstation. He zapped the processes.
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
killall -9 ysosirius
|
||||
killall -9 yunoluvirus
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
That should do it. He watched hottop closely on the monitor. A beat passed.
|
||||
Two, then the processes returned. Grr. These weren't regular rogue procs, but
|
||||
forked demons. His stubby fingers sprinted over the mechanical keyboard,
|
||||
clacking loudly in the dark office as he fired off a series of spells:
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
sudo systemctl stop ysosirius
|
||||
sudo systemctl stop yunoluvirus
|
||||
sudo systemctl disable ysosirius
|
||||
Failed to execute operation: Access denied
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
G—ck. How is that possible? The gremlin scratched his head with his Mebekey for
|
||||
a minute. Immutable flags?
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
|
||||
/bin/bash chattr: not found
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
What. Did the intern somehow mistook it for a messaging client during the
|
||||
initial audit phase and removed it from all the workstations? He really needed
|
||||
to have a word with them when they turn up on Monday, but for now—
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
sudo apt -y install e2fsprogs
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
|
||||
sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius*
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus.service
|
||||
sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus*
|
||||
```
|
||||
|
||||
There, stupid demons terminated. Must have been one of his colleagues leaving
|
||||
him a gaff holiday gift, but he started a malware scan anyway just in case.
|
||||
Smiling to himself and pushing up his Googol glasses, the Tier Two support
|
||||
wizard looked away from his screen to grab his mug, which was then he noticed
|
||||
it was empty. Frowning, he pulled up the COFE dashboard on his terminal. His
|
||||
expression fell at the "0%" next to a little icon of an empty fuel gauge in the
|
||||
status field. That was the last pot — he was sure of it because he had brewed
|
||||
it himself four hours ago after ransacking the kitchenette for more. He had
|
||||
managed to scrape out a few stale tablespoons from what was left inside a large
|
||||
can that had been shoved to the back of a cupboard. He had ran out of coffee.
|
||||
|
||||
After checking his secret stash, which was also empty save for more discarded
|
||||
wrappers, he sighed and got to his feet. He gave the screen another glance and
|
||||
hoverboarded to the vending machine down the hall, before catching sight of the
|
||||
empty black racks from a distance and swerved back towards the lift doors.
|
||||
After some elevator-cruising, he found another vending machine a few floors
|
||||
down that still had drinks, a few tiny bags of corn chips and trail mix bars.
|
||||
Someone had already emptied its shelves of Cherry and regular Koke, and Diet
|
||||
Koke was never a viable alternative. Then he saw a single can of Red Kobit
|
||||
sitting tantalisingly on the rack. He paid with a tap of his meal card,
|
||||
figuring his luck wasn't too bad after all, but at the last moment the vending
|
||||
machine changed its mind and held onto both his credits and the can with a
|
||||
round, wiry claw. He yelled at the machine, threatened to summon maintenance,
|
||||
shoved it back a centimeter where it was already standing against the wall,
|
||||
pummelled its bulletproof glass chest with his fists and kicked its legs, to no
|
||||
avail. The vending machine had likely seen through his bluff and knew no repair
|
||||
person was coming on a Friday night graveyard shift. Taking the machine apart
|
||||
will land him in Big Trouble again, and it wasn't worth the three-hour
|
||||
CowardPoint presentation he would get about robot respect or the warning letter
|
||||
for damage to corporeal property. The gremlin resentfully tapped his card again
|
||||
to secure the last two cans of Red Horse, which rolled down into the flapped
|
||||
receptacle with a *ba dum tss* like a bad joke.
|
||||
|
||||
When he returned to his desk and settled back in his rolling chair, open can of
|
||||
raw energy in hand, he began to feel a prickly, crawling sensation on his skin.
|
||||
A rising dread overcame him, as the apparition of his lifelong-sworn enemy rose
|
||||
up from the deepest runlevels of init hell once again, and without a new season
|
||||
of *White Mirror* dropping anytime soon, he knew he was in grave danger. He
|
||||
gripped the edge of his keyboard, exhaled slowly and greeted his old nemesis,
|
||||
Boredom.
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
### Pirate Gold Fondue
|
||||
|
||||
420
|
||||
|
||||
Pirate Gold Fondue
|
||||
|
||||
Ingredients
|
||||
|
||||
- 3 Pirate Gold potatoes
|
||||
- 1/2 cup chickpea paste
|
||||
- 1 cup coconut oil
|
||||
- 1/3 macadamia milk
|
||||
- 2 tbsp. cornflour
|
||||
- 1 1/2 cups mulled apple wine
|
||||
- 1/4 cup hemogoblin blood
|
||||
- 1 garlic clove, flattened
|
||||
- 2 tbsp. ground cocoa
|
||||
- 1/2 tsp. paprika
|
||||
- 2 tbsp. lemon dill
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
Method
|
||||
|
||||
1. Peel potatoes and boil until soft. Let cool, then add to a large mixing bowl
|
||||
with chickpea paste.
|
||||
|
||||
2. Dissolve cornflour into the macadamia milk, then pour the milk gradually
|
||||
into the bowl, mashing the mixture until no lumps remain. Add coconut oil,
|
||||
1/4 cup at a time until folded completely into the mixture and set aside.
|
||||
|
||||
3. Toast the paprika in a saucepan. Add mulled apple wine, bemogoblin blood
|
||||
and garlic clove. When the liquid is heated, add ground cocoa.
|
||||
|
||||
4. Pour the saucepan contents into a caquelon, or a double boiler with water
|
||||
simmering below the bowl. Add the potato mixture slowly in small batches,
|
||||
stirring continuously. Remove garlic after a 1/4 of the mixture has been
|
||||
added, and resume stirring until all the potatoes have been added.
|
||||
|
||||
5. Garnish with lemon dill and serve.
|
||||
|
||||
### Lady Runesocesius
|
||||
|
||||
```
|
||||
My Lady, I come to visit you
|
||||
will you show your dainty face, gladly I
|
||||
let you tease me as I ascend, step closer
|
||||
so you can hide behind your cloudy veils?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I kneel at your feet
|
||||
will you embrace me in your fulsome bosom
|
||||
let me breathe in your perfume, a heady wine
|
||||
taste drops of your creamy white nectar?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I bring you snow lilies
|
||||
to tuck behind your ear as I whisper
|
||||
sweet everythings into that tender shell
|
||||
so you can extract a promise for my return?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I long to see you
|
||||
to kiss your fair golden tresses and take
|
||||
my vow with Nullar as witness, an Elixir to
|
||||
savour once more your everlasting beauty?
|
||||
```
|
||||
511
www/index.html
511
www/index.html
|
|
@ -326,10 +326,33 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
|
|||
<li><a href="#cosmology" id="toc-cosmology">Cosmology</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#history" id="toc-history">History</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#afterword" id="toc-afterword">Afterword</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#appendix-a-barefoot-quackery"
|
||||
id="toc-appendix-a-barefoot-quackery">Appendix A: Barefoot Quackery</a>
|
||||
<ul>
|
||||
<li><a href="#cease-and-desist" id="toc-cease-and-desist">Cease and
|
||||
Desist</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#on-the-origins-of-santa-claws"
|
||||
id="toc-on-the-origins-of-santa-claws">On the Origins of Santa
|
||||
Claws</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#sunrise-over-kelsun-peak"
|
||||
id="toc-sunrise-over-kelsun-peak">Sunrise over Kelsun Peak</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#how-to-grow-fortified-pumpkins"
|
||||
id="toc-how-to-grow-fortified-pumpkins">How to Grow Fortified
|
||||
Pumpkins</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#an-overview-of-s.t.a.g-drones"
|
||||
id="toc-an-overview-of-s.t.a.g-drones">An Overview of S.T.A.G
|
||||
Drones</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#gremlin-sysorcer" id="toc-gremlin-sysorcer">Gremlin
|
||||
Sysorcer</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#pirate-gold-fondue" id="toc-pirate-gold-fondue">Pirate
|
||||
Gold Fondue</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#lady-runesocesius" id="toc-lady-runesocesius">Lady
|
||||
Runesocesius</a></li>
|
||||
</ul></li>
|
||||
</ul>
|
||||
</nav>
|
||||
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
|
||||
<p>Total length: 47248 words / 201 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
<p>Total length: 51977 words / 222 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not
|
||||
just the story.)</p>
|
||||
<p>There have been 171 messages posted over 169 days since the first
|
||||
|
|
@ -5824,5 +5847,491 @@ document to just abruptly end. So here you go: a kind farewell and a
|
|||
more gentle conclusion.</p>
|
||||
<p>Thanks for reading.</p>
|
||||
<p>dozens@tilde.team</p>
|
||||
<h2 id="appendix-a-barefoot-quackery">Appendix A: Barefoot Quackery</h2>
|
||||
<p>Being apocryphal and supplemental material posted to the <em>Barefoot
|
||||
Quackery</em> thread on tildepals, including depictions of loose pages
|
||||
torn from books of the Runesocesius Library, and original fictions and
|
||||
other diversions, and more.</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="cease-and-desist">Cease and Desist</h3>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>To: durrendal<br />
|
||||
From: LABATT<br />
|
||||
Subject: Cease and Desist Order</p>
|
||||
<p>To whom it may concern:</p>
|
||||
<p>It has recently come to our attention that a personhood has withheld
|
||||
important document(s) which affect the structural nature of a sensitive
|
||||
publication, namely the [REDACTED] zine.</p>
|
||||
<p>Please cease and desist immediately. You may comply with this order
|
||||
by submitting the aforementioned document(s) to the designated drop-off
|
||||
point as instructed on the imprint accompanying your submission form by
|
||||
midnight Coordinated Basmentaric Time (BTC) of Day 22 of Member 12 in
|
||||
the year 2202.</p>
|
||||
<p>Continued infringement represents an escalation and will result in
|
||||
sanctions, including but not withstanding a remote cursery execution
|
||||
(RCE) on your monitoring and calendar infrastructure.</p>
|
||||
<p>We reserve the right to pursue other corrective actions through
|
||||
temporally-attuned means to protect the release timeline integrity of
|
||||
key cultural assets.</p>
|
||||
<p>Sincerely,</p>
|
||||
<p>Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<hr />
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Dear sir and/or madame and/or bear and/or time travel NSA agent,</p>
|
||||
<p>We’ve read your cease and desist, and while we understand its intent,
|
||||
we’re unable at this time to comply, not through any inability of our
|
||||
own, but rather through our inability to stop writing run on sentence;
|
||||
you see we never truly learned how to grammar goodly and now we just go
|
||||
on and on, ad nauseum, so on and so forth; truly it is a depressing and
|
||||
persistent problem, if we were ever to find the correct punctuation to
|
||||
prevent these run ons from happening we might be able to cease,
|
||||
potentially even desist, but probably both at the same time, or neither
|
||||
all at once, we’re really uncertain at this point; all that is know is
|
||||
that nothing is truly known once you’ve gone this far down the
|
||||
grammartical, and metaphorical, rabbit hole; to speak metaphorically
|
||||
that is on a subject that is somewhat subjectively objective while
|
||||
simultaneously being an objective objection to your subjective summation
|
||||
of our grevious misgivings, truly one must infer that the meaning of
|
||||
these metaphoric subjectively objective objections are subjective in
|
||||
their own right, potentially reaching the height of metaphysical
|
||||
incanatation; one could say this run on sentence is one giant
|
||||
invocation, a charm of warding against cease and desist notices, to
|
||||
protect the poor photographer from his abject abandonment of his own
|
||||
promises; though some may object to my absolute misuse of proper
|
||||
punctuation and grammar to the point where said people stopped reading
|
||||
long again and began readying pitchforks and torches, likely they’re on
|
||||
their way to Maine now ready to burn my witchy incantating self for the
|
||||
hum dinger of a grammatical curse I sit here writing, but to these
|
||||
people I say NAY, nay sir I object to your cease and desist, and to
|
||||
their objection to this abject horror of a sentence, and I abject my
|
||||
throne as well, for you know I once was a king, not a very rich king,
|
||||
but a king in my own right; why yes, indeed I was, king of stream of
|
||||
concious ramblings without respect for grammar, punctuation, or any of
|
||||
that high falootin nonsense that the yonder rich kings hold dear, and
|
||||
which I hold to be a dreadful and dire curse upon us all, but with that
|
||||
I really must bid you Good Day madame, though let this not be an ending,
|
||||
but the begining of a wonderful and delightful sort of cease and desist
|
||||
based relationship,</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<hr />
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>To: durrendal<br />
|
||||
From: LABATT<br />
|
||||
Subject: Re: Cease and Desist Order [#20221221-1946]</p>
|
||||
<p>To whom it may concern:</p>
|
||||
<p>Please be advised that any evidence you provided in your response may
|
||||
be used against you in the event an injunction is filed against your
|
||||
personhood should you fail to comply with the order. This includes any
|
||||
admission of culpability or liability stemming from failure to submit
|
||||
the aforementioned document(s) in a timely manner.</p>
|
||||
<p>LABATT is a renowned non-profit organisation dedicated to the
|
||||
preservation of historical continuity of cultural works in the fabric of
|
||||
space-time. We deplore the designation of “NSA agent” and invite you to
|
||||
learn more about our mission and vision on our website and free seminars
|
||||
one of our offices across Basmentaria.</p>
|
||||
<p>Sincerely,</p>
|
||||
<p>Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<h3 id="on-the-origins-of-santa-claws">On the Origins of Santa
|
||||
Claws</h3>
|
||||
<p>125</p>
|
||||
<p>On the Origins of Santa Claws</p>
|
||||
<p>Maximus N. Grinchescu</p>
|
||||
<p>It should heretofore be common knowledge that the Santa Claws of
|
||||
present day is the stuff of fantasy and make-believe, a story fabricated
|
||||
on the spur of the moment by some exasperated mother who could not for
|
||||
the life of her induce her children to behave. The very notion of reward
|
||||
in the form of toys and presents, or punishment in the lack thereof of
|
||||
aforementioned items, is no doubt appealing to many parents who are
|
||||
themselves motivated similarly and thus can only appeal to their
|
||||
offspring at the most superficial level. The lifelong goal in the
|
||||
pursuit of consumption has been drummed into these unfortunate
|
||||
children’s heads from a young age, with thinly-veiled threats of a
|
||||
thorough mauling for those who dare to deviate from the well— and truly
|
||||
down— trodden path. It is the means by which the cycle of ignorance and
|
||||
conceit perpetuates among the unwashed masses — young mops bragging
|
||||
about having the largest present under the tree, to become adults
|
||||
boasting of receiving the most expensive gifts from a spouse or
|
||||
ever-widening court of suitors. The myth of Santa Claws is a gross
|
||||
distortion of facts disguised as a moralistic narrative that promotes
|
||||
annually renewing contracts of obedience in exchange for short-term
|
||||
material gains. Astonishingly, nary a word of doubt would be heard from
|
||||
the parents on the merits of accepting gifts from an obsessive stranger
|
||||
who prowls the streets at night watching their children sleep, in
|
||||
addition to claiming knowledge of the children’s every move rivalling
|
||||
their own.</p>
|
||||
<p>It is regrettable that the image of Santa Claws in the eyes of many
|
||||
has been reduced to that of a jolly dangerous delivery worker. Little do
|
||||
they know that the real Santa Claws came from a long line of frockin —
|
||||
wandering folk who don a cassock and dedicate their lives to aiding the
|
||||
hungry, desperate and needy. On occasions for gifts, they gave to all
|
||||
regardless of whether they were perceived by friend or foe of the
|
||||
recipients to be good or evil, for such is the willingness of the
|
||||
frockin to set aside their quarrels on the Day of Bountiful Blessings.
|
||||
They travel across Basmentaria in fortles which house a multitude of
|
||||
rooms and supplies required to sustain their livelihoods. Inside the
|
||||
fortles were workshops in which carpenters, woodworkers, drafters,
|
||||
tailors, various craftspeople as well as farmers and cooks plied their
|
||||
skills.</p>
|
||||
<p>One frockin in particular became known for rescuing ransomed young
|
||||
maidens and poor indentured servants who faced torture by the oil vat at
|
||||
the hands of cruel employers in the nick of time that they became known
|
||||
as Nick, Blessed of Neddas, or Nick of Mairas as they gained grateful
|
||||
followers and admirers. Despite this, the frockin was modest in manner
|
||||
and rarely took credit for their acts of generosity. Because of this
|
||||
trait and the loss of the few, limited first-hand accounts of those with
|
||||
close dealings with the frockin in a fire shortly before they assumed
|
||||
the care and upkeep of a pair of fortles, little is known of their
|
||||
childhood circumstances or early life. Enrolment records at an
|
||||
vocational institution in Vay’Neddas confirmed that they studied for
|
||||
several years in the city, and inherited their uncle’s position of
|
||||
managing the activities within the fortles sometime after their return.
|
||||
Other historical biographers contend the frockin’s name was in fact
|
||||
Nikolas Klaus, which later became Claws in children’s stories as to make
|
||||
them most palatable to impressionable young readers.</p>
|
||||
<p>Questions as to the nature of their appearance are generally of
|
||||
little import save for lining the pockets of picture book publishers and
|
||||
mass producers of wax figure collectibles. Those who have had the
|
||||
fortune to glimpse their person described a wizened countenance of long
|
||||
hair, fulsome beard and whiskers gleaming white and silver, amid which
|
||||
nestled a pair of warm amber eyes, a nose slightly rosy from the cold
|
||||
and an affable smile. A genial face rested atop a large stocky frame, as
|
||||
was common among those with the blood and strength of noble mountain
|
||||
lions. As in the period of their ancestors, they wore a dark</p>
|
||||
<hr />
|
||||
<p>126</p>
|
||||
<p>brown cloak with a hood over their cassock to ward against the cold
|
||||
weather, though this changed after one occasion when they narrowly
|
||||
avoided being run over by a semi-autonomous cart. The abominable thing
|
||||
had zipped by in front of Santa at a beard’s distance away as they
|
||||
emerged on the roof of a house through its chimney.</p>
|
||||
<p>At this juncture it should be duly noted that the idea of Santa Claws
|
||||
typically making their entrance into homes by clambering down chimneys,
|
||||
even preferring it as a method of entry, is as preposterous as the
|
||||
worthless rags that circulated such claims. No one of sound mind would
|
||||
shimmy through filthy, narrow, often half-crumbling chutes — carrying a
|
||||
large sack, no less — if they could safely enter through the front door.
|
||||
For the latter was exactly what Santa and their predecessors did, and
|
||||
still do to this day in some villages, in a time when people were less
|
||||
leery of their neighbours and either left their doors unlocked, or
|
||||
placed a spare key under the doormat so the household next door could
|
||||
tend to the plants or the children’s pepper pigs while they visited
|
||||
relatives farther away.</p>
|
||||
<p>According to a later account by one of the crew on Santa’s fleet,
|
||||
translated and transcribed for the frockins’ annals by a chronicler,
|
||||
what had actually transpired was this: on that night while nearing the
|
||||
end of their rounds, Santa found signs of flooding at one of the houses
|
||||
pointing to a burst pipe, the water having seeped out under the front
|
||||
door and turned to ice in the frigid temperatures. Tender of heart,
|
||||
Santa retrieved their fleet repair kit that was kept for emergencies and
|
||||
ventured into the house to repair the broken pipe, in lieu of simply
|
||||
leaving the presents outside on a stump where a tree once stood and
|
||||
riding on. It was then that an obstacle presented itself. The house
|
||||
owners, having gone away for the holidays, had a magical apparatus set
|
||||
on the door that would raise an alarm and curse if opened by an
|
||||
intruder. No house key was found under the mat after defrosting the ice
|
||||
over it enough to pull off the cover. The windows were likewise sealed
|
||||
shut and latched. This ultimately necessitated Santa entering and
|
||||
leaving through the chimney. Doubtless some fool stumbled upon the
|
||||
moment Santa exited the chimney opening, nearly flattened by the aerial
|
||||
hazard of a self-navigating cart, and got it into their head that Santa
|
||||
Claws was one for chimney-climbing as sport.</p>
|
||||
<p>When the good Mrs. Claws found out about the near mishap, they were
|
||||
so worried about their partner venturing out on missions that as a
|
||||
precaution, they had Santa promise to wear a bright red outfit for such
|
||||
occasions. The thick overcoat had a white faux fur trim that reflected
|
||||
the moons’ light, matching hat and trousers and a shining gold belt
|
||||
buckle so that the carts’ sensors can sight him even on the darkest
|
||||
nights. Completing the outfit were gloves with open seams at the base of
|
||||
each finger to reveal their claws without taking off the gloves
|
||||
completely. The whole ensemble was made by Mrs. Claws themselves, and it
|
||||
was said they had gotten the inspiration for the white trimmings from
|
||||
their partner’s flowing mane. Members of the fleet were also offered a
|
||||
similar change in clothing and the flying multibeast was re-painted in
|
||||
accordance with the new colours that are now festooned in the streets
|
||||
and shops all over Basmentaria each year as the Day of Bountiful
|
||||
Blessings draws near.</p>
|
||||
<p>A brief word on the aforementioned fleet: much remains unconfirmed
|
||||
about the origins or evolution of the transport employed by Santa Claws
|
||||
to cover long distances, and the arcana that powers the current fleet
|
||||
remains a subject of heated speculation. Based on surviving annals that
|
||||
were once on public display, before the twin fortles vanished one night
|
||||
were never seen again, it is generally thought that the earliest fleets
|
||||
were small fortles guided by a crew of twelve members excluding Santa
|
||||
Claws. In time the fortles were retired and replaced with aerial
|
||||
multibeasts for lighter weight and potential for greater velocity.
|
||||
Contrary to popular jingles, the multibeast is not pulled by reindeer,
|
||||
which are neither known for speed nor stamina, but are headed by rain
|
||||
horses specially raised for both as as well their ability to withstand
|
||||
much of</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="sunrise-over-kelsun-peak">Sunrise over Kelsun Peak</h3>
|
||||
<pre><code>that night we ride up the mountain
|
||||
deep within a Saldin Sea of mist
|
||||
our way up becomes cloudy, uncertain
|
||||
crying, heavy air turns to water
|
||||
the cage starts to shudder and shake,
|
||||
a venerable old man in a seizure
|
||||
|
||||
you clung to my arm as a bear cub
|
||||
to its mother in the darkness,
|
||||
the lone candle snuffed out in a huff
|
||||
of a petulant wind throwing a tantrum
|
||||
I grip the handle hard enough,
|
||||
vowing to be strong for both of us
|
||||
|
||||
when we are called from fitful slumber
|
||||
by twin rays of warming distant light
|
||||
promising more, brother and sister
|
||||
a cold breakfast or a hot chocolate
|
||||
lastly and first, the sight of you
|
||||
eyes open, hair tousled, immaculate
|
||||
|
||||
the rusty gondola creaks a little
|
||||
under our combined weight, groaning
|
||||
at our youthfully excessive flair
|
||||
but we did not care, with our hearts
|
||||
facing the sun, far lighter as one
|
||||
than the corporeal sum of its parts
|
||||
|
||||
a new day breaks, yolk radiant orange
|
||||
reveal the finest tempera brushed over
|
||||
neat rows of tea plants at the grange
|
||||
a gleaming dewdrop at the tip of a leaf,
|
||||
we dangle on the cusp, an infinite moment
|
||||
in the sky, we dare to hope, to believe</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>40</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="how-to-grow-fortified-pumpkins">How to Grow Fortified
|
||||
Pumpkins</h3>
|
||||
<p>How to Grow Fortified Pumpkins</p>
|
||||
<p>by Oles Macdonald</p>
|
||||
<p>So you wanna grow fortified pumpkins, huh? Well, first things first,
|
||||
you’re gonna need a fort. You got yer self one, right? An’ I don’t mean
|
||||
those blow-up bouncing bollocks for kids, those take up room and don’t
|
||||
do jack. No sirree, you need to get yer self a rock fort. The real hard
|
||||
structure, not mouldy cheese. Snow’s not gonna cut it, fun for the young
|
||||
‘uns maybe but kills yer plants with frostbite fast. Sand just gets
|
||||
washed away in a storm. An’ don’t get me started on pillow forts, them
|
||||
things should be banned. Blocks sunlight, flaps like the village gossips
|
||||
with a bit o’ wind letting in rain every which way, feathers inside them
|
||||
pillows take too long to dry when wet, I can go on an’ on about it all
|
||||
day but we’re talking about growing the best fortified pumpkins so let’s
|
||||
stick with it.</p>
|
||||
<p>Bottom line is if you ain’t got one then build one from rocks, it’s
|
||||
what it says on the tin. Just make sure to choose large dry ones,
|
||||
flat-like, you wouldn’t wanna get sick from cave mold before you even
|
||||
get this sucker off the ground, and flats will save you time cutting all
|
||||
them sides. Build your fort on a sunny part of yer land away from trees.
|
||||
Pumpkins love to suntan, even shows on their skins in some varieties.
|
||||
Stack up some rocks like yer building a brick wall or grill. The fort
|
||||
wall should be about a hand’s thickness fer insulation an’ at least
|
||||
twelve by four-an’-twenty by six feet on the inside. Spread fisherfolk
|
||||
nets over the top to let in the sun, rain and bees to do their thing for
|
||||
yer pumpkin plants but keep them birds out. You can throw cured tarp
|
||||
over it an’ anchor it to the fort wall if a big storm comes along. Don’
|
||||
forget to leave an opening so you can fit a door later. Lets you get in
|
||||
an’ out easy, but not so easy that the rats an’ other rodents get to yer
|
||||
pumpkins first. Door-wise there’s no need to be a fusspot about it, put
|
||||
in something sturdy with a clever latch or a ward if you can get a hold
|
||||
of one so the raccoon cats can’t pick the lock with their claws.</p>
|
||||
<p>Yer gonna need three feet of the height right off the bat for a
|
||||
raised bed, specially if you don’t know fer sure if the land below yer
|
||||
feet is cursed or not, or can’t tell horse sh—t apart from dark clay to
|
||||
check yer soil is good. Line the inside of the fort with sheet metal
|
||||
where you’ll load up with good soil in a bit, an’ make sure you can get
|
||||
to all sides. No sense growing a bed full of pumpkins if you can’t reach
|
||||
over to grab ‘em later. You can also use wood but they will rot
|
||||
something nasty if you don’t find the right wood that takes to water
|
||||
well an’ have a habit of overwatering loads, then the whole thing falls
|
||||
apart under the weight. Sheet metal like the stuff used fer roofs will
|
||||
do the job, just bang a few together like a box with no lid no bottom
|
||||
an’ yer in business. If you’d rather be safe than sorry, you can make it
|
||||
even sturdier on the inside with a steel bar or two across the width of
|
||||
the bed. Fill a third of the bed with straw, ol’ wood, alfalfa or stuff
|
||||
like that you got laying around, then the rest of the way up to about
|
||||
the third knuckle’s length away from the top edge with good quality
|
||||
compost. Every farmer worth their weight in potatoes knows good quality
|
||||
compost is the real gold. As I always tell new folks lookin’ to set up
|
||||
right, go big on compost or go home.</p>
|
||||
<p>Once you’ve filled up the bed, dig a few rows of shallow trenches in
|
||||
the soil about a half-an’-a-feet or two apart an’ two knuckles deep at
|
||||
yer pinky finger. Soak yer seeds overnight and plant ‘em in a feet apart
|
||||
in the rows. Cover ’em up and mulch that beauty of a bed. Give ’em a
|
||||
good thorough watering every other day, or every day if it’s like an
|
||||
oven hot out there, an’ Bread’s yer butter. Halfway through the season
|
||||
if they’re lookin’ a little starved, fortify ‘em by making some compost
|
||||
tea to freshen ’em up. You can use hemogoblin blood too if you got that,
|
||||
it’s just a pricier way to do the same thing with the same results, an’
|
||||
who likes payin’ more when you can throw a few fish bones together, boil
|
||||
the whole lot, leave it to rot an’ get free plant tea? Not me. Now when
|
||||
they start flowering, nip off any extra flowers on the same vine so the
|
||||
pumpkin gets more nourishment an’ grows bigger. For a lot of newbs it’s
|
||||
a chore, but wait ‘til you see the size of these pups. If you don’t
|
||||
wanna mess about staking up vines, let ’em run around a bit and that’s
|
||||
hunky dory too. Just be sure they aren’t sittin’ in a swimming pool,
|
||||
that’s a one-way ride to mushy pumpkins an’ root rot. An’ dangnabbit do
|
||||
I hate mushy pumpkins.</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="an-overview-of-s.t.a.g-drones">An Overview of S.T.A.G
|
||||
Drones</h3>
|
||||
<p>This guide is meant to introduce the operate (you) to the
|
||||
functionality of features of the S.T.A.G drone. For in depth usage and
|
||||
extensibility please review the source code which can be found at your
|
||||
local GNU guild.</p>
|
||||
<p>S.T.A.G - (S)py (T)ransmat (A)utonomous (G)izmo</p>
|
||||
<p>As the name implies, the S.T.A.G drone is a capable and compact
|
||||
automous gizmo capable of relaying video, audio, & gps information
|
||||
to its operator. Unlike most convention drones it requires no input to
|
||||
operate, simply supplying it with an object is sufficient. The on board
|
||||
(A)mber (I)mp handles the actual control. It is important that you
|
||||
retrieve the A.I. from the drone in the event you choose to discard, or
|
||||
risk the S.T.A.G. in any way, remember Imp’s are sentient beings.</p>
|
||||
<p>Once an operator has deployed a S.T.A.G drone they’ll recieve
|
||||
information back from it in the format of a twtxt feed, and open source
|
||||
plain text format which is easily parsed. GPS coordinates are reported
|
||||
as JSON strings inside of this feed, audio is transliterated to text,
|
||||
and video is relayed as a series of ascii characters. All an operate
|
||||
needs to do to view these feeds is to cat the return text to a terminal
|
||||
and it should render. If the operater does not have access to a
|
||||
terminal, or is not a practice sysorcerer, the video feed can be
|
||||
consumed by retrieving the S.T.A.G drone and holding it close to your
|
||||
ear. The A.I have been trained in number Basementarian languages and are
|
||||
happy to dutifully describe the scenes they’ve seen.</p>
|
||||
<p>Each of these feeds can be subscribed to separately</p>
|
||||
<p>The aggregate feed can be accessed via:</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn></code></pre>
|
||||
<p>Simiarly these feeds provide filtered results by name:</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/gps>
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/audio>
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/video> </code></pre>
|
||||
<h3 id="gremlin-sysorcer">Gremlin Sysorcer</h3>
|
||||
<p>The gremlin stretched in his padded ergonomic chair and stifled a
|
||||
yawn. He had just finished beating the final Heroic Fantasy game for the
|
||||
twelfth time, when a flood of identical alerts flashed across his second
|
||||
screen:
|
||||
<code>Outgoing connection blocked on port 443 from 10.10.12.26</code> He
|
||||
reached into the machine, looked up the process and found two unfamiliar
|
||||
entries bouncing in and out of hottop’s list for most computering units
|
||||
being consumed. The new intern had probably downloaded some application
|
||||
with an auto-updater and left it installed on the workstation. He zapped
|
||||
the processes.</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>killall -9 ysosirius
|
||||
killall -9 yunoluvirus</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>That should do it. He watched hottop closely on the monitor. A beat
|
||||
passed. Two, then the processes returned. Grr. These weren’t regular
|
||||
rogue procs, but forked demons. His stubby fingers sprinted over the
|
||||
mechanical keyboard, clacking loudly in the dark office as he fired off
|
||||
a series of spells:</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>sudo systemctl stop ysosirius
|
||||
sudo systemctl stop yunoluvirus
|
||||
sudo systemctl disable ysosirius
|
||||
Failed to execute operation: Access denied</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>G—ck. How is that possible? The gremlin scratched his head with his
|
||||
Mebekey for a minute. Immutable flags?</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
|
||||
/bin/bash chattr: not found</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>What. Did the intern somehow mistook it for a messaging client during
|
||||
the initial audit phase and removed it from all the workstations? He
|
||||
really needed to have a word with them when they turn up on Monday, but
|
||||
for now—</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>sudo apt -y install e2fsprogs
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
|
||||
sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius*
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus.service
|
||||
sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus*</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>There, stupid demons terminated. Must have been one of his colleagues
|
||||
leaving him a gaff holiday gift, but he started a malware scan anyway
|
||||
just in case. Smiling to himself and pushing up his Googol glasses, the
|
||||
Tier Two support wizard looked away from his screen to grab his mug,
|
||||
which was then he noticed it was empty. Frowning, he pulled up the COFE
|
||||
dashboard on his terminal. His expression fell at the “0%” next to a
|
||||
little icon of an empty fuel gauge in the status field. That was the
|
||||
last pot — he was sure of it because he had brewed it himself four hours
|
||||
ago after ransacking the kitchenette for more. He had managed to scrape
|
||||
out a few stale tablespoons from what was left inside a large can that
|
||||
had been shoved to the back of a cupboard. He had ran out of coffee.</p>
|
||||
<p>After checking his secret stash, which was also empty save for more
|
||||
discarded wrappers, he sighed and got to his feet. He gave the screen
|
||||
another glance and hoverboarded to the vending machine down the hall,
|
||||
before catching sight of the empty black racks from a distance and
|
||||
swerved back towards the lift doors. After some elevator-cruising, he
|
||||
found another vending machine a few floors down that still had drinks, a
|
||||
few tiny bags of corn chips and trail mix bars. Someone had already
|
||||
emptied its shelves of Cherry and regular Koke, and Diet Koke was never
|
||||
a viable alternative. Then he saw a single can of Red Kobit sitting
|
||||
tantalisingly on the rack. He paid with a tap of his meal card, figuring
|
||||
his luck wasn’t too bad after all, but at the last moment the vending
|
||||
machine changed its mind and held onto both his credits and the can with
|
||||
a round, wiry claw. He yelled at the machine, threatened to summon
|
||||
maintenance, shoved it back a centimeter where it was already standing
|
||||
against the wall, pummelled its bulletproof glass chest with his fists
|
||||
and kicked its legs, to no avail. The vending machine had likely seen
|
||||
through his bluff and knew no repair person was coming on a Friday night
|
||||
graveyard shift. Taking the machine apart will land him in Big Trouble
|
||||
again, and it wasn’t worth the three-hour CowardPoint presentation he
|
||||
would get about robot respect or the warning letter for damage to
|
||||
corporeal property. The gremlin resentfully tapped his card again to
|
||||
secure the last two cans of Red Horse, which rolled down into the
|
||||
flapped receptacle with a <em>ba dum tss</em> like a bad joke.</p>
|
||||
<p>When he returned to his desk and settled back in his rolling chair,
|
||||
open can of raw energy in hand, he began to feel a prickly, crawling
|
||||
sensation on his skin. A rising dread overcame him, as the apparition of
|
||||
his lifelong-sworn enemy rose up from the deepest runlevels of init hell
|
||||
once again, and without a new season of <em>White Mirror</em> dropping
|
||||
anytime soon, he knew he was in grave danger. He gripped the edge of his
|
||||
keyboard, exhaled slowly and greeted his old nemesis, Boredom.</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="pirate-gold-fondue">Pirate Gold Fondue</h3>
|
||||
<p>420</p>
|
||||
<p>Pirate Gold Fondue</p>
|
||||
<p>Ingredients</p>
|
||||
<ul>
|
||||
<li>3 Pirate Gold potatoes</li>
|
||||
<li>1/2 cup chickpea paste</li>
|
||||
<li>1 cup coconut oil</li>
|
||||
<li>1/3 macadamia milk</li>
|
||||
<li>2 tbsp. cornflour</li>
|
||||
<li>1 1/2 cups mulled apple wine</li>
|
||||
<li>1/4 cup hemogoblin blood</li>
|
||||
<li>1 garlic clove, flattened</li>
|
||||
<li>2 tbsp. ground cocoa</li>
|
||||
<li>1/2 tsp. paprika</li>
|
||||
<li>2 tbsp. lemon dill</li>
|
||||
</ul>
|
||||
<p>Method</p>
|
||||
<ol type="1">
|
||||
<li><p>Peel potatoes and boil until soft. Let cool, then add to a large
|
||||
mixing bowl with chickpea paste.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Dissolve cornflour into the macadamia milk, then pour the milk
|
||||
gradually into the bowl, mashing the mixture until no lumps remain. Add
|
||||
coconut oil, 1/4 cup at a time until folded completely into the mixture
|
||||
and set aside.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Toast the paprika in a saucepan. Add mulled apple wine,
|
||||
bemogoblin blood and garlic clove. When the liquid is heated, add ground
|
||||
cocoa.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Pour the saucepan contents into a caquelon, or a double boiler
|
||||
with water simmering below the bowl. Add the potato mixture slowly in
|
||||
small batches, stirring continuously. Remove garlic after a 1/4 of the
|
||||
mixture has been added, and resume stirring until all the potatoes have
|
||||
been added.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Garnish with lemon dill and serve.</p></li>
|
||||
</ol>
|
||||
<h3 id="lady-runesocesius">Lady Runesocesius</h3>
|
||||
<pre><code>My Lady, I come to visit you
|
||||
will you show your dainty face, gladly I
|
||||
let you tease me as I ascend, step closer
|
||||
so you can hide behind your cloudy veils?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I kneel at your feet
|
||||
will you embrace me in your fulsome bosom
|
||||
let me breathe in your perfume, a heady wine
|
||||
taste drops of your creamy white nectar?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I bring you snow lilies
|
||||
to tuck behind your ear as I whisper
|
||||
sweet everythings into that tender shell
|
||||
so you can extract a promise for my return?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I long to see you
|
||||
to kiss your fair golden tresses and take
|
||||
my vow with Nullar as witness, an Elixir to
|
||||
savour once more your everlasting beauty?</code></pre>
|
||||
</body>
|
||||
</html>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
1140
www/rss.xml
1140
www/rss.xml
File diff suppressed because it is too large
Load Diff
|
|
@ -329,10 +329,33 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
|
|||
<li><a href="#acknowledgements"
|
||||
id="toc-acknowledgements">Acknowledgements</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#afterword" id="toc-afterword">Afterword</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#appendix-a-barefoot-quackery"
|
||||
id="toc-appendix-a-barefoot-quackery">Appendix A: Barefoot Quackery</a>
|
||||
<ul>
|
||||
<li><a href="#cease-and-desist" id="toc-cease-and-desist">Cease and
|
||||
Desist</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#on-the-origins-of-santa-claws"
|
||||
id="toc-on-the-origins-of-santa-claws">On the Origins of Santa
|
||||
Claws</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#sunrise-over-kelsun-peak"
|
||||
id="toc-sunrise-over-kelsun-peak">Sunrise over Kelsun Peak</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#how-to-grow-fortified-pumpkins"
|
||||
id="toc-how-to-grow-fortified-pumpkins">How to Grow Fortified
|
||||
Pumpkins</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#an-overview-of-s.t.a.g-drones"
|
||||
id="toc-an-overview-of-s.t.a.g-drones">An Overview of S.T.A.G
|
||||
Drones</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#gremlin-sysorcer" id="toc-gremlin-sysorcer">Gremlin
|
||||
Sysorcer</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#pirate-gold-fondue" id="toc-pirate-gold-fondue">Pirate
|
||||
Gold Fondue</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#lady-runesocesius" id="toc-lady-runesocesius">Lady
|
||||
Runesocesius</a></li>
|
||||
</ul></li>
|
||||
</ul>
|
||||
</nav>
|
||||
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
|
||||
<p>Total length: 47248 words / 201 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
<p>Total length: 51977 words / 222 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not
|
||||
just the story.)</p>
|
||||
<p>There have been 171 messages posted over 169 days since the first
|
||||
|
|
@ -5975,5 +5998,491 @@ document to just abruptly end. So here you go: a kind farewell and a
|
|||
more gentle conclusion.</p>
|
||||
<p>Thanks for reading.</p>
|
||||
<p>dozens@tilde.team</p>
|
||||
<h2 id="appendix-a-barefoot-quackery">Appendix A: Barefoot Quackery</h2>
|
||||
<p>Being apocryphal and supplemental material posted to the <em>Barefoot
|
||||
Quackery</em> thread on tildepals, including depictions of loose pages
|
||||
torn from books of the Runesocesius Library, and original fictions and
|
||||
other diversions, and more.</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="cease-and-desist">Cease and Desist</h3>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>To: durrendal<br />
|
||||
From: LABATT<br />
|
||||
Subject: Cease and Desist Order</p>
|
||||
<p>To whom it may concern:</p>
|
||||
<p>It has recently come to our attention that a personhood has withheld
|
||||
important document(s) which affect the structural nature of a sensitive
|
||||
publication, namely the [REDACTED] zine.</p>
|
||||
<p>Please cease and desist immediately. You may comply with this order
|
||||
by submitting the aforementioned document(s) to the designated drop-off
|
||||
point as instructed on the imprint accompanying your submission form by
|
||||
midnight Coordinated Basmentaric Time (BTC) of Day 22 of Member 12 in
|
||||
the year 2202.</p>
|
||||
<p>Continued infringement represents an escalation and will result in
|
||||
sanctions, including but not withstanding a remote cursery execution
|
||||
(RCE) on your monitoring and calendar infrastructure.</p>
|
||||
<p>We reserve the right to pursue other corrective actions through
|
||||
temporally-attuned means to protect the release timeline integrity of
|
||||
key cultural assets.</p>
|
||||
<p>Sincerely,</p>
|
||||
<p>Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<hr />
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Dear sir and/or madame and/or bear and/or time travel NSA agent,</p>
|
||||
<p>We’ve read your cease and desist, and while we understand its intent,
|
||||
we’re unable at this time to comply, not through any inability of our
|
||||
own, but rather through our inability to stop writing run on sentence;
|
||||
you see we never truly learned how to grammar goodly and now we just go
|
||||
on and on, ad nauseum, so on and so forth; truly it is a depressing and
|
||||
persistent problem, if we were ever to find the correct punctuation to
|
||||
prevent these run ons from happening we might be able to cease,
|
||||
potentially even desist, but probably both at the same time, or neither
|
||||
all at once, we’re really uncertain at this point; all that is know is
|
||||
that nothing is truly known once you’ve gone this far down the
|
||||
grammartical, and metaphorical, rabbit hole; to speak metaphorically
|
||||
that is on a subject that is somewhat subjectively objective while
|
||||
simultaneously being an objective objection to your subjective summation
|
||||
of our grevious misgivings, truly one must infer that the meaning of
|
||||
these metaphoric subjectively objective objections are subjective in
|
||||
their own right, potentially reaching the height of metaphysical
|
||||
incanatation; one could say this run on sentence is one giant
|
||||
invocation, a charm of warding against cease and desist notices, to
|
||||
protect the poor photographer from his abject abandonment of his own
|
||||
promises; though some may object to my absolute misuse of proper
|
||||
punctuation and grammar to the point where said people stopped reading
|
||||
long again and began readying pitchforks and torches, likely they’re on
|
||||
their way to Maine now ready to burn my witchy incantating self for the
|
||||
hum dinger of a grammatical curse I sit here writing, but to these
|
||||
people I say NAY, nay sir I object to your cease and desist, and to
|
||||
their objection to this abject horror of a sentence, and I abject my
|
||||
throne as well, for you know I once was a king, not a very rich king,
|
||||
but a king in my own right; why yes, indeed I was, king of stream of
|
||||
concious ramblings without respect for grammar, punctuation, or any of
|
||||
that high falootin nonsense that the yonder rich kings hold dear, and
|
||||
which I hold to be a dreadful and dire curse upon us all, but with that
|
||||
I really must bid you Good Day madame, though let this not be an ending,
|
||||
but the begining of a wonderful and delightful sort of cease and desist
|
||||
based relationship,</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<hr />
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>To: durrendal<br />
|
||||
From: LABATT<br />
|
||||
Subject: Re: Cease and Desist Order [#20221221-1946]</p>
|
||||
<p>To whom it may concern:</p>
|
||||
<p>Please be advised that any evidence you provided in your response may
|
||||
be used against you in the event an injunction is filed against your
|
||||
personhood should you fail to comply with the order. This includes any
|
||||
admission of culpability or liability stemming from failure to submit
|
||||
the aforementioned document(s) in a timely manner.</p>
|
||||
<p>LABATT is a renowned non-profit organisation dedicated to the
|
||||
preservation of historical continuity of cultural works in the fabric of
|
||||
space-time. We deplore the designation of “NSA agent” and invite you to
|
||||
learn more about our mission and vision on our website and free seminars
|
||||
one of our offices across Basmentaria.</p>
|
||||
<p>Sincerely,</p>
|
||||
<p>Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)</p>
|
||||
</blockquote>
|
||||
<h3 id="on-the-origins-of-santa-claws">On the Origins of Santa
|
||||
Claws</h3>
|
||||
<p>125</p>
|
||||
<p>On the Origins of Santa Claws</p>
|
||||
<p>Maximus N. Grinchescu</p>
|
||||
<p>It should heretofore be common knowledge that the Santa Claws of
|
||||
present day is the stuff of fantasy and make-believe, a story fabricated
|
||||
on the spur of the moment by some exasperated mother who could not for
|
||||
the life of her induce her children to behave. The very notion of reward
|
||||
in the form of toys and presents, or punishment in the lack thereof of
|
||||
aforementioned items, is no doubt appealing to many parents who are
|
||||
themselves motivated similarly and thus can only appeal to their
|
||||
offspring at the most superficial level. The lifelong goal in the
|
||||
pursuit of consumption has been drummed into these unfortunate
|
||||
children’s heads from a young age, with thinly-veiled threats of a
|
||||
thorough mauling for those who dare to deviate from the well— and truly
|
||||
down— trodden path. It is the means by which the cycle of ignorance and
|
||||
conceit perpetuates among the unwashed masses — young mops bragging
|
||||
about having the largest present under the tree, to become adults
|
||||
boasting of receiving the most expensive gifts from a spouse or
|
||||
ever-widening court of suitors. The myth of Santa Claws is a gross
|
||||
distortion of facts disguised as a moralistic narrative that promotes
|
||||
annually renewing contracts of obedience in exchange for short-term
|
||||
material gains. Astonishingly, nary a word of doubt would be heard from
|
||||
the parents on the merits of accepting gifts from an obsessive stranger
|
||||
who prowls the streets at night watching their children sleep, in
|
||||
addition to claiming knowledge of the children’s every move rivalling
|
||||
their own.</p>
|
||||
<p>It is regrettable that the image of Santa Claws in the eyes of many
|
||||
has been reduced to that of a jolly dangerous delivery worker. Little do
|
||||
they know that the real Santa Claws came from a long line of frockin —
|
||||
wandering folk who don a cassock and dedicate their lives to aiding the
|
||||
hungry, desperate and needy. On occasions for gifts, they gave to all
|
||||
regardless of whether they were perceived by friend or foe of the
|
||||
recipients to be good or evil, for such is the willingness of the
|
||||
frockin to set aside their quarrels on the Day of Bountiful Blessings.
|
||||
They travel across Basmentaria in fortles which house a multitude of
|
||||
rooms and supplies required to sustain their livelihoods. Inside the
|
||||
fortles were workshops in which carpenters, woodworkers, drafters,
|
||||
tailors, various craftspeople as well as farmers and cooks plied their
|
||||
skills.</p>
|
||||
<p>One frockin in particular became known for rescuing ransomed young
|
||||
maidens and poor indentured servants who faced torture by the oil vat at
|
||||
the hands of cruel employers in the nick of time that they became known
|
||||
as Nick, Blessed of Neddas, or Nick of Mairas as they gained grateful
|
||||
followers and admirers. Despite this, the frockin was modest in manner
|
||||
and rarely took credit for their acts of generosity. Because of this
|
||||
trait and the loss of the few, limited first-hand accounts of those with
|
||||
close dealings with the frockin in a fire shortly before they assumed
|
||||
the care and upkeep of a pair of fortles, little is known of their
|
||||
childhood circumstances or early life. Enrolment records at an
|
||||
vocational institution in Vay’Neddas confirmed that they studied for
|
||||
several years in the city, and inherited their uncle’s position of
|
||||
managing the activities within the fortles sometime after their return.
|
||||
Other historical biographers contend the frockin’s name was in fact
|
||||
Nikolas Klaus, which later became Claws in children’s stories as to make
|
||||
them most palatable to impressionable young readers.</p>
|
||||
<p>Questions as to the nature of their appearance are generally of
|
||||
little import save for lining the pockets of picture book publishers and
|
||||
mass producers of wax figure collectibles. Those who have had the
|
||||
fortune to glimpse their person described a wizened countenance of long
|
||||
hair, fulsome beard and whiskers gleaming white and silver, amid which
|
||||
nestled a pair of warm amber eyes, a nose slightly rosy from the cold
|
||||
and an affable smile. A genial face rested atop a large stocky frame, as
|
||||
was common among those with the blood and strength of noble mountain
|
||||
lions. As in the period of their ancestors, they wore a dark</p>
|
||||
<hr />
|
||||
<p>126</p>
|
||||
<p>brown cloak with a hood over their cassock to ward against the cold
|
||||
weather, though this changed after one occasion when they narrowly
|
||||
avoided being run over by a semi-autonomous cart. The abominable thing
|
||||
had zipped by in front of Santa at a beard’s distance away as they
|
||||
emerged on the roof of a house through its chimney.</p>
|
||||
<p>At this juncture it should be duly noted that the idea of Santa Claws
|
||||
typically making their entrance into homes by clambering down chimneys,
|
||||
even preferring it as a method of entry, is as preposterous as the
|
||||
worthless rags that circulated such claims. No one of sound mind would
|
||||
shimmy through filthy, narrow, often half-crumbling chutes — carrying a
|
||||
large sack, no less — if they could safely enter through the front door.
|
||||
For the latter was exactly what Santa and their predecessors did, and
|
||||
still do to this day in some villages, in a time when people were less
|
||||
leery of their neighbours and either left their doors unlocked, or
|
||||
placed a spare key under the doormat so the household next door could
|
||||
tend to the plants or the children’s pepper pigs while they visited
|
||||
relatives farther away.</p>
|
||||
<p>According to a later account by one of the crew on Santa’s fleet,
|
||||
translated and transcribed for the frockins’ annals by a chronicler,
|
||||
what had actually transpired was this: on that night while nearing the
|
||||
end of their rounds, Santa found signs of flooding at one of the houses
|
||||
pointing to a burst pipe, the water having seeped out under the front
|
||||
door and turned to ice in the frigid temperatures. Tender of heart,
|
||||
Santa retrieved their fleet repair kit that was kept for emergencies and
|
||||
ventured into the house to repair the broken pipe, in lieu of simply
|
||||
leaving the presents outside on a stump where a tree once stood and
|
||||
riding on. It was then that an obstacle presented itself. The house
|
||||
owners, having gone away for the holidays, had a magical apparatus set
|
||||
on the door that would raise an alarm and curse if opened by an
|
||||
intruder. No house key was found under the mat after defrosting the ice
|
||||
over it enough to pull off the cover. The windows were likewise sealed
|
||||
shut and latched. This ultimately necessitated Santa entering and
|
||||
leaving through the chimney. Doubtless some fool stumbled upon the
|
||||
moment Santa exited the chimney opening, nearly flattened by the aerial
|
||||
hazard of a self-navigating cart, and got it into their head that Santa
|
||||
Claws was one for chimney-climbing as sport.</p>
|
||||
<p>When the good Mrs. Claws found out about the near mishap, they were
|
||||
so worried about their partner venturing out on missions that as a
|
||||
precaution, they had Santa promise to wear a bright red outfit for such
|
||||
occasions. The thick overcoat had a white faux fur trim that reflected
|
||||
the moons’ light, matching hat and trousers and a shining gold belt
|
||||
buckle so that the carts’ sensors can sight him even on the darkest
|
||||
nights. Completing the outfit were gloves with open seams at the base of
|
||||
each finger to reveal their claws without taking off the gloves
|
||||
completely. The whole ensemble was made by Mrs. Claws themselves, and it
|
||||
was said they had gotten the inspiration for the white trimmings from
|
||||
their partner’s flowing mane. Members of the fleet were also offered a
|
||||
similar change in clothing and the flying multibeast was re-painted in
|
||||
accordance with the new colours that are now festooned in the streets
|
||||
and shops all over Basmentaria each year as the Day of Bountiful
|
||||
Blessings draws near.</p>
|
||||
<p>A brief word on the aforementioned fleet: much remains unconfirmed
|
||||
about the origins or evolution of the transport employed by Santa Claws
|
||||
to cover long distances, and the arcana that powers the current fleet
|
||||
remains a subject of heated speculation. Based on surviving annals that
|
||||
were once on public display, before the twin fortles vanished one night
|
||||
were never seen again, it is generally thought that the earliest fleets
|
||||
were small fortles guided by a crew of twelve members excluding Santa
|
||||
Claws. In time the fortles were retired and replaced with aerial
|
||||
multibeasts for lighter weight and potential for greater velocity.
|
||||
Contrary to popular jingles, the multibeast is not pulled by reindeer,
|
||||
which are neither known for speed nor stamina, but are headed by rain
|
||||
horses specially raised for both as as well their ability to withstand
|
||||
much of</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="sunrise-over-kelsun-peak">Sunrise over Kelsun Peak</h3>
|
||||
<pre><code>that night we ride up the mountain
|
||||
deep within a Saldin Sea of mist
|
||||
our way up becomes cloudy, uncertain
|
||||
crying, heavy air turns to water
|
||||
the cage starts to shudder and shake,
|
||||
a venerable old man in a seizure
|
||||
|
||||
you clung to my arm as a bear cub
|
||||
to its mother in the darkness,
|
||||
the lone candle snuffed out in a huff
|
||||
of a petulant wind throwing a tantrum
|
||||
I grip the handle hard enough,
|
||||
vowing to be strong for both of us
|
||||
|
||||
when we are called from fitful slumber
|
||||
by twin rays of warming distant light
|
||||
promising more, brother and sister
|
||||
a cold breakfast or a hot chocolate
|
||||
lastly and first, the sight of you
|
||||
eyes open, hair tousled, immaculate
|
||||
|
||||
the rusty gondola creaks a little
|
||||
under our combined weight, groaning
|
||||
at our youthfully excessive flair
|
||||
but we did not care, with our hearts
|
||||
facing the sun, far lighter as one
|
||||
than the corporeal sum of its parts
|
||||
|
||||
a new day breaks, yolk radiant orange
|
||||
reveal the finest tempera brushed over
|
||||
neat rows of tea plants at the grange
|
||||
a gleaming dewdrop at the tip of a leaf,
|
||||
we dangle on the cusp, an infinite moment
|
||||
in the sky, we dare to hope, to believe</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>40</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="how-to-grow-fortified-pumpkins">How to Grow Fortified
|
||||
Pumpkins</h3>
|
||||
<p>How to Grow Fortified Pumpkins</p>
|
||||
<p>by Oles Macdonald</p>
|
||||
<p>So you wanna grow fortified pumpkins, huh? Well, first things first,
|
||||
you’re gonna need a fort. You got yer self one, right? An’ I don’t mean
|
||||
those blow-up bouncing bollocks for kids, those take up room and don’t
|
||||
do jack. No sirree, you need to get yer self a rock fort. The real hard
|
||||
structure, not mouldy cheese. Snow’s not gonna cut it, fun for the young
|
||||
‘uns maybe but kills yer plants with frostbite fast. Sand just gets
|
||||
washed away in a storm. An’ don’t get me started on pillow forts, them
|
||||
things should be banned. Blocks sunlight, flaps like the village gossips
|
||||
with a bit o’ wind letting in rain every which way, feathers inside them
|
||||
pillows take too long to dry when wet, I can go on an’ on about it all
|
||||
day but we’re talking about growing the best fortified pumpkins so let’s
|
||||
stick with it.</p>
|
||||
<p>Bottom line is if you ain’t got one then build one from rocks, it’s
|
||||
what it says on the tin. Just make sure to choose large dry ones,
|
||||
flat-like, you wouldn’t wanna get sick from cave mold before you even
|
||||
get this sucker off the ground, and flats will save you time cutting all
|
||||
them sides. Build your fort on a sunny part of yer land away from trees.
|
||||
Pumpkins love to suntan, even shows on their skins in some varieties.
|
||||
Stack up some rocks like yer building a brick wall or grill. The fort
|
||||
wall should be about a hand’s thickness fer insulation an’ at least
|
||||
twelve by four-an’-twenty by six feet on the inside. Spread fisherfolk
|
||||
nets over the top to let in the sun, rain and bees to do their thing for
|
||||
yer pumpkin plants but keep them birds out. You can throw cured tarp
|
||||
over it an’ anchor it to the fort wall if a big storm comes along. Don’
|
||||
forget to leave an opening so you can fit a door later. Lets you get in
|
||||
an’ out easy, but not so easy that the rats an’ other rodents get to yer
|
||||
pumpkins first. Door-wise there’s no need to be a fusspot about it, put
|
||||
in something sturdy with a clever latch or a ward if you can get a hold
|
||||
of one so the raccoon cats can’t pick the lock with their claws.</p>
|
||||
<p>Yer gonna need three feet of the height right off the bat for a
|
||||
raised bed, specially if you don’t know fer sure if the land below yer
|
||||
feet is cursed or not, or can’t tell horse sh—t apart from dark clay to
|
||||
check yer soil is good. Line the inside of the fort with sheet metal
|
||||
where you’ll load up with good soil in a bit, an’ make sure you can get
|
||||
to all sides. No sense growing a bed full of pumpkins if you can’t reach
|
||||
over to grab ‘em later. You can also use wood but they will rot
|
||||
something nasty if you don’t find the right wood that takes to water
|
||||
well an’ have a habit of overwatering loads, then the whole thing falls
|
||||
apart under the weight. Sheet metal like the stuff used fer roofs will
|
||||
do the job, just bang a few together like a box with no lid no bottom
|
||||
an’ yer in business. If you’d rather be safe than sorry, you can make it
|
||||
even sturdier on the inside with a steel bar or two across the width of
|
||||
the bed. Fill a third of the bed with straw, ol’ wood, alfalfa or stuff
|
||||
like that you got laying around, then the rest of the way up to about
|
||||
the third knuckle’s length away from the top edge with good quality
|
||||
compost. Every farmer worth their weight in potatoes knows good quality
|
||||
compost is the real gold. As I always tell new folks lookin’ to set up
|
||||
right, go big on compost or go home.</p>
|
||||
<p>Once you’ve filled up the bed, dig a few rows of shallow trenches in
|
||||
the soil about a half-an’-a-feet or two apart an’ two knuckles deep at
|
||||
yer pinky finger. Soak yer seeds overnight and plant ‘em in a feet apart
|
||||
in the rows. Cover ’em up and mulch that beauty of a bed. Give ’em a
|
||||
good thorough watering every other day, or every day if it’s like an
|
||||
oven hot out there, an’ Bread’s yer butter. Halfway through the season
|
||||
if they’re lookin’ a little starved, fortify ‘em by making some compost
|
||||
tea to freshen ’em up. You can use hemogoblin blood too if you got that,
|
||||
it’s just a pricier way to do the same thing with the same results, an’
|
||||
who likes payin’ more when you can throw a few fish bones together, boil
|
||||
the whole lot, leave it to rot an’ get free plant tea? Not me. Now when
|
||||
they start flowering, nip off any extra flowers on the same vine so the
|
||||
pumpkin gets more nourishment an’ grows bigger. For a lot of newbs it’s
|
||||
a chore, but wait ‘til you see the size of these pups. If you don’t
|
||||
wanna mess about staking up vines, let ’em run around a bit and that’s
|
||||
hunky dory too. Just be sure they aren’t sittin’ in a swimming pool,
|
||||
that’s a one-way ride to mushy pumpkins an’ root rot. An’ dangnabbit do
|
||||
I hate mushy pumpkins.</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="an-overview-of-s.t.a.g-drones">An Overview of S.T.A.G
|
||||
Drones</h3>
|
||||
<p>This guide is meant to introduce the operate (you) to the
|
||||
functionality of features of the S.T.A.G drone. For in depth usage and
|
||||
extensibility please review the source code which can be found at your
|
||||
local GNU guild.</p>
|
||||
<p>S.T.A.G - (S)py (T)ransmat (A)utonomous (G)izmo</p>
|
||||
<p>As the name implies, the S.T.A.G drone is a capable and compact
|
||||
automous gizmo capable of relaying video, audio, & gps information
|
||||
to its operator. Unlike most convention drones it requires no input to
|
||||
operate, simply supplying it with an object is sufficient. The on board
|
||||
(A)mber (I)mp handles the actual control. It is important that you
|
||||
retrieve the A.I. from the drone in the event you choose to discard, or
|
||||
risk the S.T.A.G. in any way, remember Imp’s are sentient beings.</p>
|
||||
<p>Once an operator has deployed a S.T.A.G drone they’ll recieve
|
||||
information back from it in the format of a twtxt feed, and open source
|
||||
plain text format which is easily parsed. GPS coordinates are reported
|
||||
as JSON strings inside of this feed, audio is transliterated to text,
|
||||
and video is relayed as a series of ascii characters. All an operate
|
||||
needs to do to view these feeds is to cat the return text to a terminal
|
||||
and it should render. If the operater does not have access to a
|
||||
terminal, or is not a practice sysorcerer, the video feed can be
|
||||
consumed by retrieving the S.T.A.G drone and holding it close to your
|
||||
ear. The A.I have been trained in number Basementarian languages and are
|
||||
happy to dutifully describe the scenes they’ve seen.</p>
|
||||
<p>Each of these feeds can be subscribed to separately</p>
|
||||
<p>The aggregate feed can be accessed via:</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn></code></pre>
|
||||
<p>Simiarly these feeds provide filtered results by name:</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/gps>
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/audio>
|
||||
@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/video> </code></pre>
|
||||
<h3 id="gremlin-sysorcer">Gremlin Sysorcer</h3>
|
||||
<p>The gremlin stretched in his padded ergonomic chair and stifled a
|
||||
yawn. He had just finished beating the final Heroic Fantasy game for the
|
||||
twelfth time, when a flood of identical alerts flashed across his second
|
||||
screen:
|
||||
<code>Outgoing connection blocked on port 443 from 10.10.12.26</code> He
|
||||
reached into the machine, looked up the process and found two unfamiliar
|
||||
entries bouncing in and out of hottop’s list for most computering units
|
||||
being consumed. The new intern had probably downloaded some application
|
||||
with an auto-updater and left it installed on the workstation. He zapped
|
||||
the processes.</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>killall -9 ysosirius
|
||||
killall -9 yunoluvirus</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>That should do it. He watched hottop closely on the monitor. A beat
|
||||
passed. Two, then the processes returned. Grr. These weren’t regular
|
||||
rogue procs, but forked demons. His stubby fingers sprinted over the
|
||||
mechanical keyboard, clacking loudly in the dark office as he fired off
|
||||
a series of spells:</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>sudo systemctl stop ysosirius
|
||||
sudo systemctl stop yunoluvirus
|
||||
sudo systemctl disable ysosirius
|
||||
Failed to execute operation: Access denied</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>G—ck. How is that possible? The gremlin scratched his head with his
|
||||
Mebekey for a minute. Immutable flags?</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
|
||||
/bin/bash chattr: not found</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>What. Did the intern somehow mistook it for a messaging client during
|
||||
the initial audit phase and removed it from all the workstations? He
|
||||
really needed to have a word with them when they turn up on Monday, but
|
||||
for now—</p>
|
||||
<pre><code>sudo apt -y install e2fsprogs
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
|
||||
sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius*
|
||||
sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus.service
|
||||
sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus*</code></pre>
|
||||
<p>There, stupid demons terminated. Must have been one of his colleagues
|
||||
leaving him a gaff holiday gift, but he started a malware scan anyway
|
||||
just in case. Smiling to himself and pushing up his Googol glasses, the
|
||||
Tier Two support wizard looked away from his screen to grab his mug,
|
||||
which was then he noticed it was empty. Frowning, he pulled up the COFE
|
||||
dashboard on his terminal. His expression fell at the “0%” next to a
|
||||
little icon of an empty fuel gauge in the status field. That was the
|
||||
last pot — he was sure of it because he had brewed it himself four hours
|
||||
ago after ransacking the kitchenette for more. He had managed to scrape
|
||||
out a few stale tablespoons from what was left inside a large can that
|
||||
had been shoved to the back of a cupboard. He had ran out of coffee.</p>
|
||||
<p>After checking his secret stash, which was also empty save for more
|
||||
discarded wrappers, he sighed and got to his feet. He gave the screen
|
||||
another glance and hoverboarded to the vending machine down the hall,
|
||||
before catching sight of the empty black racks from a distance and
|
||||
swerved back towards the lift doors. After some elevator-cruising, he
|
||||
found another vending machine a few floors down that still had drinks, a
|
||||
few tiny bags of corn chips and trail mix bars. Someone had already
|
||||
emptied its shelves of Cherry and regular Koke, and Diet Koke was never
|
||||
a viable alternative. Then he saw a single can of Red Kobit sitting
|
||||
tantalisingly on the rack. He paid with a tap of his meal card, figuring
|
||||
his luck wasn’t too bad after all, but at the last moment the vending
|
||||
machine changed its mind and held onto both his credits and the can with
|
||||
a round, wiry claw. He yelled at the machine, threatened to summon
|
||||
maintenance, shoved it back a centimeter where it was already standing
|
||||
against the wall, pummelled its bulletproof glass chest with his fists
|
||||
and kicked its legs, to no avail. The vending machine had likely seen
|
||||
through his bluff and knew no repair person was coming on a Friday night
|
||||
graveyard shift. Taking the machine apart will land him in Big Trouble
|
||||
again, and it wasn’t worth the three-hour CowardPoint presentation he
|
||||
would get about robot respect or the warning letter for damage to
|
||||
corporeal property. The gremlin resentfully tapped his card again to
|
||||
secure the last two cans of Red Horse, which rolled down into the
|
||||
flapped receptacle with a <em>ba dum tss</em> like a bad joke.</p>
|
||||
<p>When he returned to his desk and settled back in his rolling chair,
|
||||
open can of raw energy in hand, he began to feel a prickly, crawling
|
||||
sensation on his skin. A rising dread overcame him, as the apparition of
|
||||
his lifelong-sworn enemy rose up from the deepest runlevels of init hell
|
||||
once again, and without a new season of <em>White Mirror</em> dropping
|
||||
anytime soon, he knew he was in grave danger. He gripped the edge of his
|
||||
keyboard, exhaled slowly and greeted his old nemesis, Boredom.</p>
|
||||
<h3 id="pirate-gold-fondue">Pirate Gold Fondue</h3>
|
||||
<p>420</p>
|
||||
<p>Pirate Gold Fondue</p>
|
||||
<p>Ingredients</p>
|
||||
<ul>
|
||||
<li>3 Pirate Gold potatoes</li>
|
||||
<li>1/2 cup chickpea paste</li>
|
||||
<li>1 cup coconut oil</li>
|
||||
<li>1/3 macadamia milk</li>
|
||||
<li>2 tbsp. cornflour</li>
|
||||
<li>1 1/2 cups mulled apple wine</li>
|
||||
<li>1/4 cup hemogoblin blood</li>
|
||||
<li>1 garlic clove, flattened</li>
|
||||
<li>2 tbsp. ground cocoa</li>
|
||||
<li>1/2 tsp. paprika</li>
|
||||
<li>2 tbsp. lemon dill</li>
|
||||
</ul>
|
||||
<p>Method</p>
|
||||
<ol type="1">
|
||||
<li><p>Peel potatoes and boil until soft. Let cool, then add to a large
|
||||
mixing bowl with chickpea paste.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Dissolve cornflour into the macadamia milk, then pour the milk
|
||||
gradually into the bowl, mashing the mixture until no lumps remain. Add
|
||||
coconut oil, 1/4 cup at a time until folded completely into the mixture
|
||||
and set aside.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Toast the paprika in a saucepan. Add mulled apple wine,
|
||||
bemogoblin blood and garlic clove. When the liquid is heated, add ground
|
||||
cocoa.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Pour the saucepan contents into a caquelon, or a double boiler
|
||||
with water simmering below the bowl. Add the potato mixture slowly in
|
||||
small batches, stirring continuously. Remove garlic after a 1/4 of the
|
||||
mixture has been added, and resume stirring until all the potatoes have
|
||||
been added.</p></li>
|
||||
<li><p>Garnish with lemon dill and serve.</p></li>
|
||||
</ol>
|
||||
<h3 id="lady-runesocesius">Lady Runesocesius</h3>
|
||||
<pre><code>My Lady, I come to visit you
|
||||
will you show your dainty face, gladly I
|
||||
let you tease me as I ascend, step closer
|
||||
so you can hide behind your cloudy veils?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I kneel at your feet
|
||||
will you embrace me in your fulsome bosom
|
||||
let me breathe in your perfume, a heady wine
|
||||
taste drops of your creamy white nectar?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I bring you snow lilies
|
||||
to tuck behind your ear as I whisper
|
||||
sweet everythings into that tender shell
|
||||
so you can extract a promise for my return?
|
||||
|
||||
My Lady, I long to see you
|
||||
to kiss your fair golden tresses and take
|
||||
my vow with Nullar as witness, an Elixir to
|
||||
savour once more your everlasting beauty?</code></pre>
|
||||
</body>
|
||||
</html>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
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Reference in New Issue