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@ -24,6 +24,7 @@ src/epistolary/index.md
 src/epistolary/00054.md
 src/epistolary/00055.md
 src/epistolary/00056.md
 src/epistolary/00057.md
 src/bestiary/index.md
 src/bestiary/aetherwael.md
 src/bestiary/aur.md
--- a/src/epistolary/00057.md
+++ b/src/epistolary/00057.md
@ -0,0 +1,258 @@
 ---
 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?
--- a/src/notes.md
+++ b/src/notes.md
@ -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
--- a/src/paths/sarongfu.md
+++ b/src/paths/sarongfu.md
@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
 ---
 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.
--- a/www/index.html
+++ b/www/index.html
@ -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>
--- a/www/rss.xml
+++ b/www/rss.xml
@ -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>
--- a/www/spoilers.html
+++ b/www/spoilers.html
@ -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>