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src/bestiary/index.md
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---
title: 00057
created: Mon, 16 Jan 2023 20:30:44 -0700
updated: Fri, 20 Jan 2023 14:58:46 -0700
public: yes
syndicated: yes
---
### 00057 {#00057}
> Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea, "perfumed of
> rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I appreciate it
> Inky, these past few days have been terribly rough, and I'm rather
> tired of field rations." Alex takes a sip, and then continues
> hurridly. "I've been monitoring the Bazar, we are in grave danger.
> It started with just me, but I fear it's bled over to everyone here
> at the Milk Market. I can't be entirely certain."
>
> Alex looks worriedly at Inky. "There's a lot going on here. As soon
> as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an assignment, normally
> not an issue, but they wanted me to level 3 of the busiest coffee
> shops in the bazar. I planted those bombs, alongside listening
> devices, and then I bugged out. My team appears to have been
> assigned equally bizarre assignments, all rather violent messy
> things. A lot of innocent lives are on the line here."
>
> "We dropped off the grid, I've got an isolated listening post in
> the sewers here, it's heavily reinforced and that's where I've been
> hiding out, but I'm not certain it's safe. Agent 5 found a melon
> vendor dead in the market, and this vendor was specifically seeking
> out the Milk Market, looking for us. I believe it may be an
> assassin, could be from HQ, could be from Blavin. It's entirely
> opaque to me."
>
> "As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me, there's 5 of
> them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man the ship and get the
> hell out of here in a few hours, and it may be our best chance. But
> there's the iris letter we need to attend to, and I cannot for the
> life of me find anything, not a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think
> all of this bodes very poorly for us."
>
> Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you're telling me we have a
> ritual we have to perform, to find the iris group's meeting place..
> I'm leery Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle trusted you, and
> I do as well. If you think this is our best shot, we can hole up in
> the sewers and try to perform this dream walk of your witch
> friend's. But if this iris business turns out to be a trap, well,
> how well can you handle a gun?
~
> "Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex. Caution is
> likewise advisable." Inky nods seriously.
>
> The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly deranged grin.
> "I'm sure you have already seen many grave dangers. What's another
> one for the bucket list? What's life if not violent and messy? So
> many melons dismembered and laid waste daily—"
>
> As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks. "Melon
> vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about his
> neighbour's boa constrictors for years. The serpents were drawn to
> the rodents his fruits typically attracted, which might not have
> been a problem were it not for them hanging out at his stall and
> scaring off his customers. Maybe he finally took matters into his
> own hands, with tragic results." They look at an empty mixing bowl
> across the table glumly. "He had offered to bring over a few of the
> new variety as soon as they arrived, as he was already delivering
> to a household the next district over."
>
> They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. "Someone is after you? You
> didn't do something horrid like help an old grandmother cross the
> street on sockless skates, for instance?" Refilling the
> sysorcerer's cup, Inky continues, "As for Blavin, only 3 of the
> crystals have been recovered. Blavin knows Team 43 is his best
> chance of obtaining the others. Until he has all the crystals, he
> will stay his hand. If he doesn't know that, then he is hardly a
> threat."
>
> Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. "They seem eager to get our
> attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve minutes of
> fame, for the right price. Enlightenment would probably be too much
> to ask of a nightmare. If you'd rather take your team and make a
> run for it instead, that's fine too. If they come knocking I'll
> just tell them you missed the hotel fondue at Kelsun Peak."
>
> Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their head.
> "No gun." They turn around and take down a bamboo walking stick
> hanging from a hook on a wall next to a worn coat. Inky grasps the
> handle and pulls. It slides out quietly to reveal a long, thin,
> tapered surgical steel tube which, if someone were to lean in for a
> closer inspection, is sparsely covered in tiny, needle-like
> protrusions along the surface. On the underside, a transparent
> sliver ran the length of the tube to end about a forefinger's
> length from the handle. Visible through the narrow window is a
> colourless liquid, most likely a sedative or toxin, fills the
> reinforced steel interior.
>
> They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. "I don't know that Master
> Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have been the
> most foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You would do well
> to not make that mistake."
~
> "It doesn't sound like we have all too much of an option", Alex
> says, as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes, "that'll be
> the dead man's trigger going off in my hideout."
>
> Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems, that
> hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite, assuming
> they don't asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the fun..
>
> Inky, you're right, life is a bit violent and messy, so lets bring
> the violent mess to these bastards. If you've got a lead on this
> with this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take the risk. I won't
> run from this fight, my uncle sure as hell wouldn't. And at worst,
> he'd go out with a magnificient bang. Lets give it back tenfold,
> for poor Pepo.
>
> Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another hideout in
> the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer's guild. It's a little
> risky to head out that way, but none of my Zabbix alerts indicate
> it was compromised. It has automated IDS and IPS systems, so we
> should be safe enough in there once we whole up. At very least
> we'll know if someone comes for us, and we'll have a little bit of
> time to react on it. We should bring the Toques with us, and little
> blod clot, and the duck.
>
> Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, "I think it might be best if you
> got the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn't safe, and I don't
> want to see you become collateral here. Head down to the wharf,
> I'll have agent 5 meet you there, he'll help you and your family
> lay low until all of this blows over."
~
> At Enrique's deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, "Might as well do as
> Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks away, and turtle
> soup is really out of fashion these days."
>
> Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning about
> fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap carrier
> draped in a black cloth cover. Inky says, "I hope you don't mind if
> I bring along a guest as well."
>
> The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse, with
> transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured by sliding
> shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a woven, web-like
> pattern and adorned with a string of feathers hangs from one side.
> On the opposite side is a double door with a miniature knob over
> each door. Inky lightly taps on one of the doors, and at a low
> click coming from within in response, swings the doors wide enough
> for the kitchen lamps to illuminate the great horned owl resting on
> a pillow inside. The bird opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze
> sweeping idly across the occupants in the room before dozing off
> again.
>
> "This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain shared
> connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I asked their
> caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko will accompany
> me for the ritual. Her brother is at another location and can send
> a message if a need arises." Inky explains with a wry expression.
> "Think of it as a minor indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind,
> along with eagle owls, are very good at negotiating with those of
> the ravens."
>
> They give the owl a small smile. "She may be a little
> temperamental, but she is well-trained." Closing the birdhouse
> doors, Inky turns back to Master Alex. "I suppose you'd rather not
> reveal the location of your hideout to any more people than
> necessary. Her carrier will remain covered on the way in and out."
Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in shadow, far
from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of funerals. Often
under these very circumstances, in fact. And he always keeps his
distance out of respect.
For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and trousers. And his
bright red colors would be a sign of disrespect among the mourners.
Secondly and most importantly, he himself is the one who put the man
in the ground.
Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the sysorcer.
Didn't realize he had his own agents working for him. When he
realized that one of the agents had been in contact with the melon
vendor, he knew that Popplewick could and would identify the
warpwefter if pressured.
Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon vendor.
Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from the
Cinderlands, his family came to Vay'Nullar following the Artifice
Wars when he was just a boy. He grew up poor, and often relied on the
generosity of others. But eventually he was able to support himself
and his small family. He was proud of the life he had built.
So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one night when
Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the assassin slipped
a bag over his head and dragged him into a dark alley. He cinched the
bag tight, cutting off his air. There was a brief struggle before
Popplewick passed out and Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground.
He held him there, unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone.
In only took but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.
Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until only the
widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her chest. "Oh,
Pepo," she whispers to the headstone. "What can I do now?"
When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She meanders
slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the graveyard and down
the hill. She steps into the wood. A flash of red follows her at a
distance.
She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the child down
on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at her with solemn
eyes. "I am sorry, made-of-me," she says to the child. And that is
all the explanation it gets.
She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her go.
When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps out of the
shadows and crouches down beside the child. It looks up and reaches
for him. "Look at you," he says to the child as he scoops it up. "Who
would throw you away? A perfectly good baby!" He stands and bounces
the child. "A sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well.
Come, Rind, we have work to do."
The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the city.
~
In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They clearly
struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for Popplewick's death
and the widow's weakness.
Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and awkwardly
turn the doorknob to Alex's hideout. The bolt clears the latch with a
faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle against the heavy iron
door, pushing it slowly open, inch by inch. A mechanism clicks inside
and there is a whoosh of air and then a boom as the bunker violently
ignites. The tiny figure is incinerated, and blown back into the
sewer tunnel.
Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and crouches down
by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered and burned bundle of
cloth. "Look, Rind," he says to the small child standing at his
elbow. "You must always acknowledge and be grateful for those who
sacrifice for you." He starts to untie and unfold the cloth puppet as
he speaks. It unfurls and smooths out and stitches itself back
together under his touch. Even the burn marks fade, and soon
Gliftwirp is once again holding his red sash.
"Now, Rind," he says standing up and taking the child's hand,
squinting into the fire. "Let's see what we can salvage here."
WHAT DO YOU DO
- The time of the ritual is at hand.
- What final preparations do you make before entering Dreamspace?

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@ -9,6 +9,7 @@ updated: Sun, 27 Nov 2022 02:24:11 -0700
<summary>SPOILERS!!</summary>
**THREADS**
- scissormen, huskies, dreamforms, gliftwirp the warpwefter
- Lady in Red ??? Tess, Piskin, Salvia ; Beaker (and Cio) trailing the BANDits?
- Benefactor wants Crystals to kill a god
- Golden Iris wants Crystals to make a new god

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---
title: sarongfu master
created: Fri, 20 Jan 2023 14:05:43 -0700
updated: Fri, 20 Jan 2023 14:05:43 -0700
public: yes
---
### Path of the Sarong-fu Master
- 0. **Sarong-fu** (Commit yourself to the Way of Sarong-fu): Vow to carry and use no weapons, other than your sarong or sash.
- 1. **Light-footed** (Wear no armor and carry no shield): You are agile, nimble, and light of foot. You are exceptionally good at dodging attacks, and are skilled at sneaking.
- 1. **Whip** (Defeat a foe with nothing but your sash): You can twist a piece of cloth into a dangerous whip that you are proficient with.
- 1. **Entangle** (Fight dirty): You can use your sash or another cloth to trip up your foe.
- 1. **Bag** (Mug an unsuspecting victim): Swiftly slip your sash over a foe's head and cinch it, leaving them blind, confused, and disoriented.
- 1. **Rope** (Scale a building and climb in through a 2nd story window): Twist a cloth into a handy rope. When you're done with it, you can un-twist it back into cloth.
- 2. **Starch** (Do not bathe or wash your sash for 90 days): You can stiffen cloth for extra protection when worn, or to create hard constructs.
- 2. **Deflect** (Win hand-to-hand combat with your hands bound together): Grip one end of your sash in either hand. When your foe attacks, you can use your sash to deflect the blow.
- 2. **Bind** (Win a shoe tying contest three times): Swiftly tie two objects together. Such as a person's wrists.
- 2. **Mending**: (Wear the same garment until it falls apart): You can repair torn or ripped fabric with a touch.
- 3. **Glide** (Survive a daring leap): You can use a large square cloth to safely parachute down from tall heights, or to glide over a long distance.
- 3. **Sewing** (Win 3 sewing bees): You can fashion fabric into different shapes and garments and back with a touch.
- 3. **Disarm** (Successfully deflect 20 attacks): When you **deflect** an attack, you can attempt to disarm your foe by wrapping your sash around their weapon and yanking.
- 4. **Garrote** (Strangle a man to death): With a thin piece of cloth, you can silently strangle your foe without leaving a trace
- 5. **Advanced Bag** (Bag 20 victims): When you **bag** somebody and cinch the bag, you can choose to cut off their air, causing them to suffocate, leading to unconsciousness or even death.
- 5. **Knot** (Learn every knot in the Encyclopedia of Knots): You can tie a knot that cannot be untied except for another Sarong-fu Master of your level. Similarly, you can swiftly untie any knot, save for one tied by a Sarong-fu Master whose level exceeds your own.
- 6. **Transcendent Sarong-fu** (Fashion a small cloth puppet. Keep it hidden on your person for 90 days. Speak to it every night.): Fabric obeys your spoken command.

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@ -317,6 +317,7 @@ Master</a></li>
<li><a href="#00054" id="toc-00054">00054</a></li>
<li><a href="#00055" id="toc-00055">00055</a></li>
<li><a href="#00056" id="toc-00056">00056</a></li>
<li><a href="#00057" id="toc-00057">00057</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -353,10 +354,10 @@ Teale</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
<p>Total length: 74808 words / 319 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
<p>Total length: 75661 words / 323 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 201 messages posted over 191 days since the first
<p>There have been 202 messages posted over 191 days since the first
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.05.</p>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
@ -6625,6 +6626,216 @@ your dreamform from your waking body. Which would leave your body a
soulless husk, and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams.
But that probably won’t happen! Okay good luck, have fun!</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<h3 id="00057">00057</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea, “perfumed of
rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I appreciate it Inky,
these past few days have been terribly rough, and I’m rather tired of
field rations.” Alex takes a sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve
been monitoring the Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just
me, but I fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I
can’t be entirely certain.”</p>
<p>Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here. As soon
as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an assignment, normally not an
issue, but they wanted me to level 3 of the busiest coffee shops in the
bazar. I planted those bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I
bugged out. My team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre
assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of innocent lives
are on the line here.”</p>
<p>“We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening post in the
sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s where I’ve been hiding
out, but I’m not certain it’s safe. Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in
the market, and this vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk
Market, looking for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from
HQ, could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.”</p>
<p>“As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me, there’s 5 of
them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man the ship and get the hell
out of here in a few hours, and it may be our best chance. But there’s
the iris letter we need to attend to, and I cannot for the life of me
find anything, not a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this
bodes very poorly for us.”</p>
<p>Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have a ritual
we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting place.. I’m leery
Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle trusted you, and I do as well.
If you think this is our best shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try
to perform this dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris
business turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a
gun?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex. Caution is
likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously.</p>
<p>The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly deranged grin.
“I’m sure you have already seen many grave dangers. What’s another one
for the bucket list? What’s life if not violent and messy? So many
melons dismembered and laid waste daily—”</p>
<p>As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks. “Melon
vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about his neighbour’s boa
constrictors for years. The serpents were drawn to the rodents his
fruits typically attracted, which might not have been a problem were it
not for them hanging out at his stall and scaring off his customers.
Maybe he finally took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.”
They look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had
offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they arrived,
as he was already delivering to a household the next district over.”</p>
<p>They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after you? You
didn’t do something horrid like help an old grandmother cross the street
on sockless skates, for instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky
continues, “As for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered.
Blavin knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others. Until
he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he doesn’t know that,
then he is hardly a threat.”</p>
<p>Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to get our
attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve minutes of fame,
for the right price. Enlightenment would probably be too much to ask of
a nightmare. If you’d rather take your team and make a run for it
instead, that’s fine too. If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you
missed the hotel fondue at Kelsun Peak.”</p>
<p>Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their head. “No
gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo walking stick hanging from
a hook on a wall next to a worn coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls.
It slides out quietly to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel
tube which, if someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is
sparsely covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On
the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube to end
about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible through the narrow
window is a colourless liquid, most likely a sedative or toxin, fills
the reinforced steel interior.</p>
<p>They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that Master
Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have been the most
foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You would do well to not
make that mistake.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”, Alex says,
as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes, “that’ll be the dead
man’s trigger going off in my hideout.”</p>
<p>Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems, that
hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite, assuming they
don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the fun..</p>
<p>Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so lets bring
the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a lead on this with
this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take the risk. I won’t run from
this fight, my uncle sure as hell wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out
with a magnificient bang. Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo.</p>
<p>Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another hideout in
the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild. It’s a little risky
to head out that way, but none of my Zabbix alerts indicate it was
compromised. It has automated IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe
enough in there once we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone
comes for us, and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We
should bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the duck.</p>
<p>Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best if you got
the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe, and I don’t want to see
you become collateral here. Head down to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5
meet you there, he’ll help you and your family lay low until all of this
blows over.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as well do as
Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks away, and turtle soup
is really out of fashion these days.”</p>
<p>Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning about
fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap carrier draped
in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you don’t mind if I bring
along a guest as well.”</p>
<p>The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse, with
transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured by sliding
shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a woven, web-like pattern
and adorned with a string of feathers hangs from one side. On the
opposite side is a double door with a miniature knob over each door.
Inky lightly taps on one of the doors, and at a low click coming from
within in response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps
to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside. The bird
opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly across the
occupants in the room before dozing off again.</p>
<p>“This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain shared
connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I asked their
caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko will accompany me for
the ritual. Her brother is at another location and can send a message if
a need arises.” Inky explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a
minor indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle owls,
are very good at negotiating with those of the ravens.”</p>
<p>They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little temperamental,
but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse doors, Inky turns back
to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather not reveal the location of your
hideout to any more people than necessary. Her carrier will remain
covered on the way in and out.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in shadow, far
from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of funerals. Often under
these very circumstances, in fact. And he always keeps his distance out
of respect.</p>
<p>For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and trousers. And his
bright red colors would be a sign of disrespect among the mourners.
Secondly and most importantly, he himself is the one who put the man in
the ground.</p>
<p>Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the sysorcer.
Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for him. When he realized
that one of the agents had been in contact with the melon vendor, he
knew that Popplewick could and would identify the warpwefter if
pressured.</p>
<p>Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon vendor.
Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from the Cinderlands,
his family came to Vay’Nullar following the Artifice Wars when he was
just a boy. He grew up poor, and often relied on the generosity of
others. But eventually he was able to support himself and his small
family. He was proud of the life he had built.</p>
<p>So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one night when
Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the assassin slipped a
bag over his head and dragged him into a dark alley. He cinched the bag
tight, cutting off his air. There was a brief struggle before Popplewick
passed out and Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him
there, unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took
but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.</p>
<p>Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until only the
widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her chest. “Oh, Pepo,”
she whispers to the headstone. “What can I do now?”</p>
<p>When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She meanders
slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the graveyard and down the
hill. She steps into the wood. A flash of red follows her at a
distance.</p>
<p>She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the child down
on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at her with solemn eyes.
“I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to the child. And that is all the
explanation it gets.</p>
<p>She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her go.</p>
<p>When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps out of the
shadows and crouches down beside the child. It looks up and reaches for
him. “Look at you,” he says to the child as he scoops it up. “Who would
throw you away? A perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child.
“A sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come, Rind,
we have work to do.”</p>
<p>The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the city.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They clearly
struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for Popplewick’s death and
the widow’s weakness.</p>
<p>Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and awkwardly
turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears the latch with a
faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle against the heavy iron door,
pushing it slowly open, inch by inch. A mechanism clicks inside and
there is a whoosh of air and then a boom as the bunker violently
ignites. The tiny figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer
tunnel.</p>
<p>Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and crouches down
by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered and burned bundle of
cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small child standing at his elbow.
“You must always acknowledge and be grateful for those who sacrifice for
you.” He starts to untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It
unfurls and smooths out and stitches itself back together under his
touch. Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again
holding his red sash.</p>
<p>“Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s hand,
squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage here.”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<ul>
<li>The time of the ritual is at hand.</li>
<li>What final preparations do you make before entering Dreamspace?</li>
</ul>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>

252
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@ -203,6 +203,258 @@ Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not imm
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>57</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">57 - Mon, 16 Jan 2023 20:30:44
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 20 Jan 2023 14:58:46 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00057">00057</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea,
“perfumed of rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I
appreciate it Inky, these past few days have been terribly
rough, and I’m rather tired of field rations.” Alex takes a
sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve been monitoring the
Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just me, but I
fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I
can’t be entirely certain.”</p>
<p>Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here.
As soon as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an
assignment, normally not an issue, but they wanted me to level
3 of the busiest coffee shops in the bazar. I planted those
bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I bugged out. My
team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre
assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of
innocent lives are on the line here.”</p>
<p>“We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening
post in the sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s
where I’ve been hiding out, but I’m not certain it’s safe.
Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in the market, and this
vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk Market, looking
for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from HQ,
could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.”</p>
<p>“As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me,
there’s 5 of them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man
the ship and get the hell out of here in a few hours, and it
may be our best chance. But there’s the iris letter we need to
attend to, and I cannot for the life of me find anything, not
a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this bodes very
poorly for us.”</p>
<p>Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have
a ritual we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting
place.. I’m leery Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle
trusted you, and I do as well. If you think this is our best
shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try to perform this
dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris business
turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a
gun?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex.
Caution is likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously.</p>
<p>The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly
deranged grin. “I’m sure you have already seen many grave
dangers. What’s another one for the bucket list? What’s life
if not violent and messy? So many melons dismembered and laid
waste daily—”</p>
<p>As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks.
“Melon vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about
his neighbour’s boa constrictors for years. The serpents were
drawn to the rodents his fruits typically attracted, which
might not have been a problem were it not for them hanging out
at his stall and scaring off his customers. Maybe he finally
took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.” They
look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had
offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they
arrived, as he was already delivering to a household the next
district over.”</p>
<p>They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after
you? You didn’t do something horrid like help an old
grandmother cross the street on sockless skates, for
instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky continues, “As
for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered. Blavin
knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others.
Until he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he
doesn’t know that, then he is hardly a threat.”</p>
<p>Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to
get our attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve
minutes of fame, for the right price. Enlightenment would
probably be too much to ask of a nightmare. If you’d rather
take your team and make a run for it instead, that’s fine too.
If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you missed the hotel
fondue at Kelsun Peak.”</p>
<p>Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their
head. “No gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo
walking stick hanging from a hook on a wall next to a worn
coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls. It slides out quietly
to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel tube which, if
someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is sparsely
covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On
the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube
to end about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible
through the narrow window is a colourless liquid, most likely
a sedative or toxin, fills the reinforced steel interior.</p>
<p>They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that
Master Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have
been the most foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You
would do well to not make that mistake.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”,
Alex says, as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes,
“that’ll be the dead man’s trigger going off in my
hideout.”</p>
<p>Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems,
that hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite,
assuming they don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the
fun..</p>
<p>Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so
lets bring the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a
lead on this with this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take
the risk. I won’t run from this fight, my uncle sure as hell
wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out with a magnificient bang.
Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo.</p>
<p>Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another
hideout in the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild.
It’s a little risky to head out that way, but none of my
Zabbix alerts indicate it was compromised. It has automated
IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe enough in there once
we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone comes for us,
and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We should
bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the
duck.</p>
<p>Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best
if you got the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe,
and I don’t want to see you become collateral here. Head down
to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5 meet you there, he’ll help you
and your family lay low until all of this blows over.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as
well do as Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks
away, and turtle soup is really out of fashion these
days.”</p>
<p>Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning
about fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap
carrier draped in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you
don’t mind if I bring along a guest as well.”</p>
<p>The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse,
with transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured
by sliding shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a
woven, web-like pattern and adorned with a string of feathers
hangs from one side. On the opposite side is a double door
with a miniature knob over each door. Inky lightly taps on one
of the doors, and at a low click coming from within in
response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps
to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside.
The bird opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly
across the occupants in the room before dozing off again.</p>
<p>“This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain
shared connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I
asked their caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko
will accompany me for the ritual. Her brother is at another
location and can send a message if a need arises.” Inky
explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a minor
indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle
owls, are very good at negotiating with those of the
ravens.”</p>
<p>They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little
temperamental, but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse
doors, Inky turns back to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather
not reveal the location of your hideout to any more people
than necessary. Her carrier will remain covered on the way in
and out.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in
shadow, far from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of
funerals. Often under these very circumstances, in fact. And
he always keeps his distance out of respect.</p>
<p>For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and
trousers. And his bright red colors would be a sign of
disrespect among the mourners. Secondly and most importantly,
he himself is the one who put the man in the ground.</p>
<p>Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the
sysorcer. Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for
him. When he realized that one of the agents had been in
contact with the melon vendor, he knew that Popplewick could
and would identify the warpwefter if pressured.</p>
<p>Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon
vendor. Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from
the Cinderlands, his family came to Vay’Nullar following the
Artifice Wars when he was just a boy. He grew up poor, and
often relied on the generosity of others. But eventually he
was able to support himself and his small family. He was proud
of the life he had built.</p>
<p>So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one
night when Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the
assassin slipped a bag over his head and dragged him into a
dark alley. He cinched the bag tight, cutting off his air.
There was a brief struggle before Popplewick passed out and
Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him there,
unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took
but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.</p>
<p>Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until
only the widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her
chest. “Oh, Pepo,” she whispers to the headstone. “What can I
do now?”</p>
<p>When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She
meanders slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the
graveyard and down the hill. She steps into the wood. A flash
of red follows her at a distance.</p>
<p>She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the
child down on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at
her with solemn eyes. “I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to
the child. And that is all the explanation it gets.</p>
<p>She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her
go.</p>
<p>When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps
out of the shadows and crouches down beside the child. It
looks up and reaches for him. “Look at you,” he says to the
child as he scoops it up. “Who would throw you away? A
perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child. “A
sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come,
Rind, we have work to do.”</p>
<p>The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the
city.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They
clearly struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for
Popplewick’s death and the widow’s weakness.</p>
<p>Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and
awkwardly turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears
the latch with a faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle
against the heavy iron door, pushing it slowly open, inch by
inch. A mechanism clicks inside and there is a whoosh of air
and then a boom as the bunker violently ignites. The tiny
figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer
tunnel.</p>
<p>Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and
crouches down by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered
and burned bundle of cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small
child standing at his elbow. “You must always acknowledge and
be grateful for those who sacrifice for you.” He starts to
untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It unfurls and
smooths out and stitches itself back together under his touch.
Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again
holding his red sash.</p>
<p>“Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s
hand, squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage
here.”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<ul>
<li>The time of the ritual is at hand.</li>
<li>What final preparations do you make before entering
Dreamspace?</li>
</ul>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>54</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>

216
www/spoilers.html
View File

@ -317,6 +317,7 @@ Master</a></li>
<li><a href="#00054" id="toc-00054">00054</a></li>
<li><a href="#00055" id="toc-00055">00055</a></li>
<li><a href="#00056" id="toc-00056">00056</a></li>
<li><a href="#00057" id="toc-00057">00057</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -356,10 +357,10 @@ Teale</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
<p>Total length: 74808 words / 319 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
<p>Total length: 75661 words / 323 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 201 messages posted over 191 days since the first
<p>There have been 202 messages posted over 191 days since the first
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.05.</p>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
@ -6628,6 +6629,216 @@ your dreamform from your waking body. Which would leave your body a
soulless husk, and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams.
But that probably won’t happen! Okay good luck, have fun!</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<h3 id="00057">00057</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea, “perfumed of
rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I appreciate it Inky,
these past few days have been terribly rough, and I’m rather tired of
field rations.” Alex takes a sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve
been monitoring the Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just
me, but I fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I
can’t be entirely certain.”</p>
<p>Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here. As soon
as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an assignment, normally not an
issue, but they wanted me to level 3 of the busiest coffee shops in the
bazar. I planted those bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I
bugged out. My team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre
assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of innocent lives
are on the line here.”</p>
<p>“We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening post in the
sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s where I’ve been hiding
out, but I’m not certain it’s safe. Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in
the market, and this vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk
Market, looking for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from
HQ, could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.”</p>
<p>“As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me, there’s 5 of
them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man the ship and get the hell
out of here in a few hours, and it may be our best chance. But there’s
the iris letter we need to attend to, and I cannot for the life of me
find anything, not a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this
bodes very poorly for us.”</p>
<p>Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have a ritual
we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting place.. I’m leery
Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle trusted you, and I do as well.
If you think this is our best shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try
to perform this dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris
business turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a
gun?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex. Caution is
likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously.</p>
<p>The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly deranged grin.
“I’m sure you have already seen many grave dangers. What’s another one
for the bucket list? What’s life if not violent and messy? So many
melons dismembered and laid waste daily—”</p>
<p>As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks. “Melon
vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about his neighbour’s boa
constrictors for years. The serpents were drawn to the rodents his
fruits typically attracted, which might not have been a problem were it
not for them hanging out at his stall and scaring off his customers.
Maybe he finally took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.”
They look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had
offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they arrived,
as he was already delivering to a household the next district over.”</p>
<p>They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after you? You
didn’t do something horrid like help an old grandmother cross the street
on sockless skates, for instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky
continues, “As for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered.
Blavin knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others. Until
he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he doesn’t know that,
then he is hardly a threat.”</p>
<p>Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to get our
attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve minutes of fame,
for the right price. Enlightenment would probably be too much to ask of
a nightmare. If you’d rather take your team and make a run for it
instead, that’s fine too. If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you
missed the hotel fondue at Kelsun Peak.”</p>
<p>Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their head. “No
gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo walking stick hanging from
a hook on a wall next to a worn coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls.
It slides out quietly to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel
tube which, if someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is
sparsely covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On
the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube to end
about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible through the narrow
window is a colourless liquid, most likely a sedative or toxin, fills
the reinforced steel interior.</p>
<p>They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that Master
Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have been the most
foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You would do well to not
make that mistake.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”, Alex says,
as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes, “that’ll be the dead
man’s trigger going off in my hideout.”</p>
<p>Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems, that
hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite, assuming they
don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the fun..</p>
<p>Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so lets bring
the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a lead on this with
this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take the risk. I won’t run from
this fight, my uncle sure as hell wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out
with a magnificient bang. Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo.</p>
<p>Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another hideout in
the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild. It’s a little risky
to head out that way, but none of my Zabbix alerts indicate it was
compromised. It has automated IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe
enough in there once we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone
comes for us, and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We
should bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the duck.</p>
<p>Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best if you got
the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe, and I don’t want to see
you become collateral here. Head down to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5
meet you there, he’ll help you and your family lay low until all of this
blows over.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as well do as
Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks away, and turtle soup
is really out of fashion these days.”</p>
<p>Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning about
fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap carrier draped
in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you don’t mind if I bring
along a guest as well.”</p>
<p>The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse, with
transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured by sliding
shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a woven, web-like pattern
and adorned with a string of feathers hangs from one side. On the
opposite side is a double door with a miniature knob over each door.
Inky lightly taps on one of the doors, and at a low click coming from
within in response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps
to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside. The bird
opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly across the
occupants in the room before dozing off again.</p>
<p>“This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain shared
connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I asked their
caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko will accompany me for
the ritual. Her brother is at another location and can send a message if
a need arises.” Inky explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a
minor indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle owls,
are very good at negotiating with those of the ravens.”</p>
<p>They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little temperamental,
but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse doors, Inky turns back
to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather not reveal the location of your
hideout to any more people than necessary. Her carrier will remain
covered on the way in and out.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in shadow, far
from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of funerals. Often under
these very circumstances, in fact. And he always keeps his distance out
of respect.</p>
<p>For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and trousers. And his
bright red colors would be a sign of disrespect among the mourners.
Secondly and most importantly, he himself is the one who put the man in
the ground.</p>
<p>Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the sysorcer.
Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for him. When he realized
that one of the agents had been in contact with the melon vendor, he
knew that Popplewick could and would identify the warpwefter if
pressured.</p>
<p>Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon vendor.
Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from the Cinderlands,
his family came to Vay’Nullar following the Artifice Wars when he was
just a boy. He grew up poor, and often relied on the generosity of
others. But eventually he was able to support himself and his small
family. He was proud of the life he had built.</p>
<p>So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one night when
Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the assassin slipped a
bag over his head and dragged him into a dark alley. He cinched the bag
tight, cutting off his air. There was a brief struggle before Popplewick
passed out and Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him
there, unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took
but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.</p>
<p>Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until only the
widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her chest. “Oh, Pepo,”
she whispers to the headstone. “What can I do now?”</p>
<p>When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She meanders
slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the graveyard and down the
hill. She steps into the wood. A flash of red follows her at a
distance.</p>
<p>She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the child down
on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at her with solemn eyes.
“I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to the child. And that is all the
explanation it gets.</p>
<p>She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her go.</p>
<p>When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps out of the
shadows and crouches down beside the child. It looks up and reaches for
him. “Look at you,” he says to the child as he scoops it up. “Who would
throw you away? A perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child.
“A sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come, Rind,
we have work to do.”</p>
<p>The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the city.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They clearly
struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for Popplewick’s death and
the widow’s weakness.</p>
<p>Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and awkwardly
turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears the latch with a
faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle against the heavy iron door,
pushing it slowly open, inch by inch. A mechanism clicks inside and
there is a whoosh of air and then a boom as the bunker violently
ignites. The tiny figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer
tunnel.</p>
<p>Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and crouches down
by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered and burned bundle of
cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small child standing at his elbow.
“You must always acknowledge and be grateful for those who sacrifice for
you.” He starts to untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It
unfurls and smooths out and stitches itself back together under his
touch. Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again
holding his red sash.</p>
<p>“Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s hand,
squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage here.”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<ul>
<li>The time of the ritual is at hand.</li>
<li>What final preparations do you make before entering Dreamspace?</li>
</ul>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>
@ -7025,6 +7236,7 @@ embers.</p>
</summary>
<p><strong>THREADS</strong></p>
<ul>
<li>scissormen, huskies, dreamforms, gliftwirp the warpwefter</li>
<li>Lady in Red ??? Tess, Piskin, Salvia ; Beaker (and Cio) trailing the
BANDits?</li>
<li>Benefactor wants Crystals to kill a god</li>