diff --git a/basement.order b/basement.order
index 045a1c3..aa0f089 100644
--- a/basement.order
+++ b/basement.order
@@ -1,6 +1,7 @@
src/about.md
src/characters/index.md
src/characters/corraidhin.md
+src/characters/gabs.md
src/characters/glarg.md
src/characters/inky.md
src/characters/jarrod.md
@@ -21,6 +22,7 @@ src/epistolary/00024.md
src/epistolary/00025.md
src/epistolary/00026.md
src/epistolary/00027.md
+src/epistolary/00028.md
src/bestiary/index.md
src/bestiary/aur.md
src/bestiary/blahoblin.md
diff --git a/src/characters/gabs.md b/src/characters/gabs.md
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..27f13b3
--- /dev/null
+++ b/src/characters/gabs.md
@@ -0,0 +1,30 @@
+---
+title: gabs
+created: Sat, 29 Oct 2022 08:41:37 -0600
+updated: Sat, 29 Oct 2022 08:41:37 -0600
+public: yes
+---
+### Gabs
+
+Bio
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all grown adults now, and she no longer wanted to toil away running a business. When she initially shuttered her little tavern, she thought she might just retire. She made it two whole years of working in a garden, occasionally seeing grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided she needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a nearby port town. She was sure to find something fun to do there.
+
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of debauchery wafting from within made her miss her days gossiping at her tavern. She enters and orders a terrible drink and listens and watches.
+
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides, “I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”
+
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the journey!
+
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and have fun!
+
Total length: 23421 words / 100 minute read.
-There have been 97 messages posted over 107 days since the first post +
Total length: 24524 words / 104 minute read.
+There have been 98 messages posted over 108 days since the first post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.
This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over @@ -303,6 +305,38 @@ story entirely.
Bio
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all grown adults +now, and she no longer wanted to toil away running a business. When she +initially shuttered her little tavern, she thought she might just +retire. She made it two whole years of working in a garden, occasionally +seeing grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided she +needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a nearby port +town. She was sure to find something fun to do there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of debauchery +wafting from within made her miss her days gossiping at her tavern. She +enters and orders a terrible drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides, +“I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the +journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and +have fun!
+Paths:
+++a new player enters the chat
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all grown adults +now, and she no longer wanted to toil away running a business. When she +initially shuttered her little tavern, she thought she might just +retire. She made it two whole years of working in a garden, occasionally +seeing grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided she +needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a nearby port +town. She was sure to find something fun to do there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of debauchery +wafting from within made her miss her days gossiping at her tavern. She +enters and orders a terrible drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides, +“I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the +journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and +have fun!
+
~
+++Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! This is a +short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between the recent +narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they see Gabs approaching +from the other side of the ship as well, and flashes them a grin in +greeting. After listening to the captain petering on about the glorious +days of the now sunken ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s +tentacles — being rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for +the effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
+
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a breathing bell +takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But you get the hang of it +and make a ladle out of your hands and scoop one up.
+“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a wink, but +it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t put it on until right +before you jump. It won’t be able to breathe for you until you’re in the +water. And this!” he continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your +shoulders, “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one +holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When you’re ready +to come back up, just start dropping ballast, right?”
+You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell on over +your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and hugs your head like +a second skin, and its stubby little tentacles grab hold around your +jawline, and it feels like you have a wet plastic bag clinging to your +face, and you think you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the +urge to panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are +briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing through the +surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
+The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to do its job. +As you sink, you feel as though you are floating through space, entering +another world.
+After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the distance. As +you get closer, two large shapes start to come into focus. The first is +a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. +The second figure is a tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has +eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and +wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water Bear, after +all!”
+“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the Sea! I am +half bear after all! You’re just some kind of segmented nematode or +something.”
+The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m a +panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the ideal physical body! +You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like. I’ve +lived under the polar ice cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot +spring. I’ve traveled through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you +ever been to the moon?”
+“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like it so +much!”
+“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure you’re not +the Fish of the Sea?”
+“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many armed bowl +of jelly?”
+“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted your slow +descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must settle an argument +for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish that I am the true Bear of the +Sea!”
+“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ you +egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of a barnacle +that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the Sea! Say this and I +will guide and protect you on your journey.”
+“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, tardigrade, am +Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my moon friends!”
+“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth can stand +him!”
+“You’re just mean, you know that?”
+You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is no sight +of the SS RSS.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria
++a new player enters the chat
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all + grown adults now, and she no longer wanted to toil away + running a business. When she initially shuttered her little + tavern, she thought she might just retire. She made it two + whole years of working in a garden, occasionally seeing + grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided + she needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a + nearby port town. She was sure to find something fun to do + there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of + debauchery wafting from within made her miss her days + gossiping at her tavern. She enters and orders a terrible + drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she + decides, “I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that + sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join + on the journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to + schmooze and have fun!
+
~
+++Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! + This is a short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between + the recent narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they + see Gabs approaching from the other side of the ship as well, + and flashes them a grin in greeting. After listening to the + captain petering on about the glorious days of the now sunken + ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s tentacles — being + rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for the + effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
+
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a + breathing bell takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But + you get the hang of it and make a ladle out of your hands and + scoop one up.
+“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a + wink, but it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t + put it on until right before you jump. It won’t be able to + breathe for you until you’re in the water. And this!” he + continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your shoulders, + “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one + holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When + you’re ready to come back up, just start dropping ballast, + right?”
+You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell + on over your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and + hugs your head like a second skin, and its stubby little + tentacles grab hold around your jawline, and it feels like you + have a wet plastic bag clinging to your face, and you think + you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the urge to + panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are + briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing + through the surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
+The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to + do its job. As you sink, you feel as though you are floating + through space, entering another world.
+After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the + distance. As you get closer, two large shapes start to come + into focus. The first is a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half + (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. The second figure is a + tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has eight jointless + legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and + wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water + Bear, after all!”
+“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the + Sea! I am half bear after all! You’re just some kind of + segmented nematode or something.”
+The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you + know I’m a panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the + ideal physical body! You may not like it, but this is what + peak performance looks like. I’ve lived under the polar ice + cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot spring. I’ve traveled + through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you ever been to + the moon?”
+“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like + it so much!”
+“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure + you’re not the Fish of the Sea?”
+“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many + armed bowl of jelly?”
+“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted + your slow descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must + settle an argument for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish + that I am the true Bear of the Sea!”
+“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ + you egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of + a barnacle that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the + Sea! Say this and I will guide and protect you on your + journey.”
+“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, + tardigrade, am Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my + moon friends!”
+“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth + can stand him!”
+“You’re just mean, you know that?”
+You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is + no sight of the SS RSS.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ + ]]> +++Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly + on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between + Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage + to hoist the wizard to his feet.
+With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod + to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The + duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, + follows them shortly after.
+The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside + from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage + seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot + in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of + water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the + bed.
+Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a + dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
+
~
+++” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my + club!’”
+The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar + and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs + out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a + whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. + Call it in when needed.”
+Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From + his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the + wound.
+As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all + kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is + currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! + Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, + with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may + be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today, + and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”
+Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will + finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the + best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the + winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our + plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”
+Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but + dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading + small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern + friends.
+
You are at a small port town on the northern tip of + Agendell, just past the Rana’For Valley. The sun is bright and + the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool + and salty. The floating island-city of Vay’Neddas, bridging + Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance + hanging in the northern sky.
+Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies + and gear, which were generously provided to you by the + indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up + a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey + to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.
+From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out + to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.
+Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It + would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and + pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the + Sword of Yam’L.
+The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of + “evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive + this whole time.
+WHAT DO YOU DO:
+++Corraidhin Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. + This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even + slightly stealthy
+Y’aml STAB, delightful blood. Stab the + flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength. + Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more + more more more more
+Corraidhin (internal thought) Ugh my head, + it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s + hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a + moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own. + It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just + weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely + cursed..
+Y’aml CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did + was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him + again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they + look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying + to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB + THEM.
+Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though + holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises + again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he + slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden + seat.
+Y’aml Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! + Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!
+But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the + gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to + side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the + guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent + patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.
+Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying + the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. + You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this + man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is + entirely uncalled for!
+Y’aml NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. + STAB.
+The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, + insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental + strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he + clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this + point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around + the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling, + sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT. + EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB + IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
+The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but + commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
+Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, + consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, + stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches + Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red + eyes.
+
~
+++Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub + bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed + from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the + eye and says, “You are not your sword.”
+Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more + quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, + a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets + his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”
+
~
+++Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his + FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He + carefully avoids the wild swinging of the + once-sword-now-dagger.
+“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink + over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you + all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war + hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”
+Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear: + “Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself + together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate + places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s + direction, one that promises adventure later.
+
The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the + crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around + him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a + master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some + kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic + break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having + to interfere, all the better.
+The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, + pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner + can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing + manager I must strongly advise against this course of + action!”
+Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy + groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; + and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial + robes.
+The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a + bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at + the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up + for a blast.
+The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches + into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s + proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you + possibly justify your choices when there are open source + alternatives available?
+The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the + receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to + slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle + threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full + blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING + CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
+The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat. + The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub + smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its + pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes + right into the bar.
+++As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. + THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky + whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then + a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor + he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from + everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his + friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching + for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though + sheilding it from his surroundings.
+What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself. + Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s + going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large + ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good + good, the syscoreor croons.
+Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard + glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his + oration, worried about his companion.
+I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and + collapses to the floor.
+
Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the + well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye + closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear. + You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert, + lifeless.
+Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
+Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
+Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about + reassigning your case.
+The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is + happily snacking away.
+You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for + the moment, overstayed.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ + ]]> +--Corraidhin Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. - This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even - slightly stealthy
-Y’aml STAB, delightful blood. Stab the - flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength. - Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more - more more more more
-Corraidhin (internal thought) Ugh my head, - it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s - hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a - moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own. - It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just - weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely - cursed..
-Y’aml CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did - was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him - again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they - look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying - to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB - THEM.
-Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though - holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises - again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he - slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden - seat.
-Y’aml Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! - Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!
-But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the - gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to - side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the - guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent - patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.
-Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying - the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. - You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this - man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is - entirely uncalled for!
-Y’aml NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. - STAB.
-The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, - insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental - strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he - clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this - point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around - the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling, - sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT. - EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB - IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
-The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but - commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
-Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, - consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, - stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches - Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red - eyes.
-
~
---Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub - bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed - from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the - eye and says, “You are not your sword.”
-Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more - quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, - a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets - his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”
-
~
---Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his - FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He - carefully avoids the wild swinging of the - once-sword-now-dagger.
-“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink - over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you - all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war - hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”
-Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear: - “Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself - together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate - places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s - direction, one that promises adventure later.
-
The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the - crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around - him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a - master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some - kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic - break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having - to interfere, all the better.
-The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, - pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner - can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing - manager I must strongly advise against this course of - action!”
-Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy - groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; - and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial - robes.
-The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a - bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at - the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up - for a blast.
-The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches - into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s - proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you - possibly justify your choices when there are open source - alternatives available?
-The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the - receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to - slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle - threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full - blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING - CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
-The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat. - The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub - smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its - pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes - right into the bar.
---As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. - THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky - whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then - a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor - he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from - everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his - friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching - for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though - sheilding it from his surroundings.
-What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself. - Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s - going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large - ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good - good, the syscoreor croons.
-Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard - glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his - oration, worried about his companion.
-I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and - collapses to the floor.
-
Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the - well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye - closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear. - You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert, - lifeless.
-Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
-Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
-Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about - reassigning your case.
-The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is - happily snacking away.
-You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for - the moment, overstayed.
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- - ]]> ---Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly - on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between - Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage - to hoist the wizard to his feet.
-With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod - to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The - duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, - follows them shortly after.
-The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside - from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage - seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot - in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of - water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the - bed.
-Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a - dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
-
~
---” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my - club!’”
-The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar - and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs - out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a - whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. - Call it in when needed.”
-Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From - his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the - wound.
-As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all - kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is - currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! - Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, - with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may - be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today, - and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”
-Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will - finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the - best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the - winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our - plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”
-Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but - dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading - small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern - friends.
-
You are at a small port town on the northern tip of - Agendell, just past the Rana’For Valley. The sun is bright and - the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool - and salty. The floating island-city of Vay’Neddas, bridging - Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance - hanging in the northern sky.
-Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies - and gear, which were generously provided to you by the - indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up - a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey - to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.
-From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out - to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.
-Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It - would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and - pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the - Sword of Yam’L.
-The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of - “evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive - this whole time.
-WHAT DO YOU DO:
-Total length: 23421 words / 100 minute read.
-There have been 97 messages posted over 107 days since the first post -on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90 .
+Total length: 24524 words / 104 minute read.
+There have been 98 messages posted over 108 days since the first post +on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.
This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.
@@ -306,6 +308,38 @@ story entirely.Bio
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all grown adults +now, and she no longer wanted to toil away running a business. When she +initially shuttered her little tavern, she thought she might just +retire. She made it two whole years of working in a garden, occasionally +seeing grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided she +needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a nearby port +town. She was sure to find something fun to do there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of debauchery +wafting from within made her miss her days gossiping at her tavern. She +enters and orders a terrible drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides, +“I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the +journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and +have fun!
+Paths:
+++a new player enters the chat
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all grown adults +now, and she no longer wanted to toil away running a business. When she +initially shuttered her little tavern, she thought she might just +retire. She made it two whole years of working in a garden, occasionally +seeing grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided she +needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a nearby port +town. She was sure to find something fun to do there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of debauchery +wafting from within made her miss her days gossiping at her tavern. She +enters and orders a terrible drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides, +“I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the +journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and +have fun!
+
~
+++Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! This is a +short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between the recent +narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they see Gabs approaching +from the other side of the ship as well, and flashes them a grin in +greeting. After listening to the captain petering on about the glorious +days of the now sunken ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s +tentacles — being rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for +the effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
+
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a breathing bell +takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But you get the hang of it +and make a ladle out of your hands and scoop one up.
+“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a wink, but +it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t put it on until right +before you jump. It won’t be able to breathe for you until you’re in the +water. And this!” he continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your +shoulders, “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one +holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When you’re ready +to come back up, just start dropping ballast, right?”
+You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell on over +your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and hugs your head like +a second skin, and its stubby little tentacles grab hold around your +jawline, and it feels like you have a wet plastic bag clinging to your +face, and you think you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the +urge to panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are +briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing through the +surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
+The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to do its job. +As you sink, you feel as though you are floating through space, entering +another world.
+After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the distance. As +you get closer, two large shapes start to come into focus. The first is +a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. +The second figure is a tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has +eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and +wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water Bear, after +all!”
+“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the Sea! I am +half bear after all! You’re just some kind of segmented nematode or +something.”
+The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m a +panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the ideal physical body! +You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like. I’ve +lived under the polar ice cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot +spring. I’ve traveled through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you +ever been to the moon?”
+“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like it so +much!”
+“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure you’re not +the Fish of the Sea?”
+“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many armed bowl +of jelly?”
+“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted your slow +descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must settle an argument +for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish that I am the true Bear of the +Sea!”
+“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ you +egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of a barnacle +that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the Sea! Say this and I +will guide and protect you on your journey.”
+“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, tardigrade, am +Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my moon friends!”
+“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth can stand +him!”
+“You’re just mean, you know that?”
+You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is no sight +of the SS RSS.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria