Total length: 24524 words / 104 minute read.
-There have been 98 messages posted over 108 days since the first post -on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.
+Total length: 25057 words / 107 minute read.
+There have been 101 messages posted over 112 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.
This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.
@@ -2940,6 +2941,64 @@ of the SS RSS.WHAT DO YOU DO
+++Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be two true +bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally think the ocean +doesn’t have enough bears and could do with two strapping examples of +true peak bearitude! The two of you should be working together to show +the world how important bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have +two. And the moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two +bears?
+The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is when it’s +calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you know you’re in for a +hell of a bad time. And since neither of you are it, I say we let this +matter rest and declare this ocean two bears richer!
+Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his cloak, just +in case. No need for a blood rush like last time, can’t let daggers go +mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the ocean needs less bears, it’s +tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would react to bear blood..
+
The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a dreadful +bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention him!”
+“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an embarrassment to +bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
+“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if one of +them is HE!”
+The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm, two +bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade a scrupulous side-eye. +“Do you truly think so?”
+“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the +tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of ocean all +around you.
+“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of stars! +The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it not?”
+“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
+“Brother!”
+The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never experienced +the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then you don’t know how soft +and enveloping it is.
+“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must begin our +search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of the Sea yet to be +discovered?”
+“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I can’t stand +the thought!” sobs the merbear.
+They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear love. “Good +luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the merbear to you over its +shoulder. “If you ever end up on the moon,” adds the tardigrade, +laughing merrily, “say hello to Hap’n’stance for me!”
+Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a rush of +current as massive amounts of water are displaced by inky black +tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach! They grasp! One grabs +the tardigrade around the middle. Another grabs the merbear by the tail. +Both bears cry and reach for each other as they are ripped apart and +pulled down below.
+The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and +threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and at your +ankles!
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria
++Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one + hand.
+It was lighter than it should be given the density of the + contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown + weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the + clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the + continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port + town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars. + Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a + mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim + light.
+It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this + particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the + shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of + their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local + sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the + hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district + at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set + up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into + the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily + wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of + the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with + assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time + and in larger quantities.
+Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was + set to one side.
+What were they doing?
+If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any + student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an + experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known + the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny + concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but + didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they + thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a + dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could + not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they + had failed, again.
+They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go + into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing + the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large + platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had + been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had + gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it — + it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood + pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s + menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was + straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly + in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be + true nobody could be held to account for the actions of + another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of + a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in + other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble, + a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of + wandering the continent.
+Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently + for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it + back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to + the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín + was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was + more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness, + despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in + staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this + more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?
+After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the + producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still + reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty + cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the + floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this + one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best + life choices.
+
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead + of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet + your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named + Inquire Within Upon Everything.
+Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would + imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of + living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s + cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine, + decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together + irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and + claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar + brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
+You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his + fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that + involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to + either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish, + fanfare, and misdirection along the way.
+He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an + ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his + left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other + barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a + certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have + enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he + escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the + sloop Diamond Howler is docked. Its captain, Enid + Barlow, welcomes you aboard.
+Before long, Diamond Howler pulls out under the + command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky” + Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast, + and you arrive fairly quickly.
+“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow + mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest + assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the + best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing + goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared. + Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t. + But at least we know where she wound up!”
+While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a + large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge + with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around + and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little + effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide. + “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the + tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom + of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop + up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a + breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on + over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while + you’re below the waves!”
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free + to react to anything that happened between arriving at the + docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding + the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.
+ + ]]> +--Corraidhin
-
- Well I’ll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did - say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it’s much more - stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of - stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more - convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for - whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious - benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil.Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and - plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our - target.
-Now this isn’t to say that we won’t stab him. I’m convinced - that’s probably a good idea in the long run, but we know - nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him - just to lose track of the true evil we must smite!
-Y’aml
-
- But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him. - HE’S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step - away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil - hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this - minute!Corraidhin
-
- I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it’s - entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren’t - any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing.(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the - discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent, - aghast even)
-Corraidhin stands, Y’aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming - a wicked joyful grin as it’s raised high, poised to strike. - The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock. - The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the - bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal - with this ruckus.
+Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be + two true bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally + think the ocean doesn’t have enough bears and could do with + two strapping examples of true peak bearitude! The two of you + should be working together to show the world how important + bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have two. And the + moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two bears?
+The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is + when it’s calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you + know you’re in for a hell of a bad time. And since neither of + you are it, I say we let this matter rest and declare this + ocean two bears richer!
+Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his + cloak, just in case. No need for a blood rush like last time, + can’t let daggers go mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the + ocean needs less bears, it’s tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would + react to bear blood..
The table—and all of Lucy’s Basement within earshot—sits in - tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin’s one-sided conversation - with the Sword of Yam’L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his - martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last - moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.
-But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed - dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in - his chair. Lucy’s bouncers scramble forward from the corners - of the room to intercept.
--- -Y’aml
-
- We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!Against Corraidhin’s control, as though he’s in a trance, - the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the - neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map - and his martini to the side.
-
Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of - the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid - sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels - concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.
-He stabs down—Yam’L cries out in wordless glee—and the - weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now - drawing Corraidhin’s hand downward in a rising crescendo of - stabbitude.
- -Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying - itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and - pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye - and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in - ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, “MORE! MORE! MORE!” - and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of - him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under - and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.
-Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back. - Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his - wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.
-The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence - of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so - overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow - residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he - sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.
-Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and - slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently, - and starts to slither away.
+The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a + dreadful bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention + him!”
+“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an + embarrassment to bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
+“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if + one of them is HE!”
+The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm, + two bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade + a scrupulous side-eye. “Do you truly think so?”
+“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the + tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of + ocean all around you.
+“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of + stars! The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it + not?”
+“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
+“Brother!”
+The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never + experienced the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then + you don’t know how soft and enveloping it is.
+“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must + begin our search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of + the Sea yet to be discovered?”
+“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I + can’t stand the thought!” sobs the merbear.
+They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear + love. “Good luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the + merbear to you over its shoulder. “If you ever end up on the + moon,” adds the tardigrade, laughing merrily, “say hello to + Hap’n’stance for me!”
+Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a + rush of current as massive amounts of water are displaced by + inky black tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach! + They grasp! One grabs the tardigrade around the middle. + Another grabs the merbear by the tail. Both bears cry and + reach for each other as they are ripped apart and pulled down + below.
+The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and + threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and + at your ankles!
WHAT DO YOU DO
+ href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00030.html">www + ]]> +++Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly + nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs + in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is + so valuable.
+That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these + crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean, + we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of + eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit + are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in + retrieving them?
+
“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of + his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor + is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages! + There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But + not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them + were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I + arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.
+++I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to + bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and + the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these + crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.
+Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many + shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what + you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a + chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something + here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know + it.
+
“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin + chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is + precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous + cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their + well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just + sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come + across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”
+Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere + suggestion of evil.
+“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?” + Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really + think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for + a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak + Crystal? Surely not!”
+“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must + all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a + competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy + them safely!”
+++META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make + it quicker to write
+Y’aml
+
+ I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY + evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them + without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in + the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind. + Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing + things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil + evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little + stab~Corraidhin to Y’aml
+
+ Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were + borrowing something that had been cast on the ground, + abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But + you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we + can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword, + and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So + unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think + we’re out of luck here.
Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion. + “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It + squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration. + With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size + of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.
+“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily. + “Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye + glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”
+++While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s + secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the + table.
+They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being + most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the + crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party + had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their + marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed + Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now + occupied a small office to one side of the building complete + with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms + it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate + with words by making them little croutons etched with letters, + but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.
+
Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk + Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at + Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and + chortling merrily to itself.
+You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and + bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with + that.
+++A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten + used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s + gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an + eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over + Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation + they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin + sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was + said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand. + They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which + sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems + the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.
+
You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is + indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that + far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product + would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing + than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus + far.
+Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the + blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!
+++Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime? + Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped + into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a + trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost + pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry + oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles. + Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably + inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe, + which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying, + was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and + sandalwood ink.
+
Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking + the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully + when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room. + Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his + shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the + presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a + bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the + recipe.
+He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he + skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some + veggies and starts pan frying them.
+Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he + pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.
+> A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?
+ + ]]> +++a new player enters the chat
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all + grown adults now, and she no longer wanted to toil away + running a business. When she initially shuttered her little + tavern, she thought she might just retire. She made it two + whole years of working in a garden, occasionally seeing + grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided + she needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a + nearby port town. She was sure to find something fun to do + there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of + debauchery wafting from within made her miss her days + gossiping at her tavern. She enters and orders a terrible + drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she + decides, “I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that + sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join + on the journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to + schmooze and have fun!
+
~
+++Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! + This is a short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between + the recent narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they + see Gabs approaching from the other side of the ship as well, + and flashes them a grin in greeting. After listening to the + captain petering on about the glorious days of the now sunken + ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s tentacles — being + rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for the + effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
+
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a + breathing bell takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But + you get the hang of it and make a ladle out of your hands and + scoop one up.
+“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a + wink, but it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t + put it on until right before you jump. It won’t be able to + breathe for you until you’re in the water. And this!” he + continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your shoulders, + “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one + holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When + you’re ready to come back up, just start dropping ballast, + right?”
+You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell + on over your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and + hugs your head like a second skin, and its stubby little + tentacles grab hold around your jawline, and it feels like you + have a wet plastic bag clinging to your face, and you think + you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the urge to + panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are + briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing + through the surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
+The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to + do its job. As you sink, you feel as though you are floating + through space, entering another world.
+After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the + distance. As you get closer, two large shapes start to come + into focus. The first is a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half + (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. The second figure is a + tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has eight jointless + legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and + wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water + Bear, after all!”
+“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the + Sea! I am half bear after all! You’re just some kind of + segmented nematode or something.”
+The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you + know I’m a panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the + ideal physical body! You may not like it, but this is what + peak performance looks like. I’ve lived under the polar ice + cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot spring. I’ve traveled + through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you ever been to + the moon?”
+“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like + it so much!”
+“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure + you’re not the Fish of the Sea?”
+“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many + armed bowl of jelly?”
+“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted + your slow descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must + settle an argument for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish + that I am the true Bear of the Sea!”
+“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ + you egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of + a barnacle that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the + Sea! Say this and I will guide and protect you on your + journey.”
+“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, + tardigrade, am Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my + moon friends!”
+“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth + can stand him!”
+“You’re just mean, you know that?”
+You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is + no sight of the SS RSS.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ ]]>--Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one - hand.
-It was lighter than it should be given the density of the - contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown - weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the - clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the - continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port - town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars. - Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a - mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim - light.
-It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this - particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the - shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of - their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local - sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the - hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district - at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set - up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into - the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily - wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of - the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with - assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time - and in larger quantities.
-Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was - set to one side.
-What were they doing?
-If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any - student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an - experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known - the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny - concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but - didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they - thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a - dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could - not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they - had failed, again.
-They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go - into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing - the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large - platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had - been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had - gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it — - it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood - pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s - menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was - straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly - in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be - true nobody could be held to account for the actions of - another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of - a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in - other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble, - a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of - wandering the continent.
-Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently - for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it - back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to - the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín - was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was - more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness, - despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in - staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this - more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?
-After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the - producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still - reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty - cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the - floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this - one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best - life choices.
+Corraidhin
+
+ Well I’ll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did + say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it’s much more + stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of + stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more + convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for + whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious + benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil.Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and + plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our + target.
+Now this isn’t to say that we won’t stab him. I’m convinced + that’s probably a good idea in the long run, but we know + nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him + just to lose track of the true evil we must smite!
+Y’aml
+
+ But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him. + HE’S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step + away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil + hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this + minute!Corraidhin
+
+ I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it’s + entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren’t + any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing.(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the + discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent, + aghast even)
+Corraidhin stands, Y’aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming + a wicked joyful grin as it’s raised high, poised to strike. + The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock. + The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the + bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal + with this ruckus.
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead - of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet - your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named - Inquire Within Upon Everything.
-Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would - imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of - living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s - cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine, - decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together - irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and - claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar - brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
-You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his - fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that - involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to - either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish, - fanfare, and misdirection along the way.
-He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an - ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his - left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other - barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a - certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have - enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he - escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the - sloop Diamond Howler is docked. Its captain, Enid - Barlow, welcomes you aboard.
-Before long, Diamond Howler pulls out under the - command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky” - Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast, - and you arrive fairly quickly.
-“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow - mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest - assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the - best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing - goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared. - Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t. - But at least we know where she wound up!”
-While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a - large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge - with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around - and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little - effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide. - “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the - tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom - of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop - up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a - breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on - over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while - you’re below the waves!”
+The table—and all of Lucy’s Basement within earshot—sits in + tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin’s one-sided conversation + with the Sword of Yam’L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his + martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last + moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.
+But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed + dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in + his chair. Lucy’s bouncers scramble forward from the corners + of the room to intercept.
+++ +Y’aml
+
+ We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!Against Corraidhin’s control, as though he’s in a trance, + the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the + neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map + and his martini to the side.
+
Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of + the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid + sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels + concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.
+He stabs down—Yam’L cries out in wordless glee—and the + weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now + drawing Corraidhin’s hand downward in a rising crescendo of + stabbitude.
+ +Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying + itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and + pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye + and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in + ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, “MORE! MORE! MORE!” + and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of + him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under + and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.
+Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back. + Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his + wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.
+The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence + of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so + overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow + residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he + sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.
+Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and + slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently, + and starts to slither away.
WHAT DO YOU DO
-NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free - to react to anything that happened between arriving at the - docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding - the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.
+ href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www ]]>--a new player enters the chat
-Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all - grown adults now, and she no longer wanted to toil away - running a business. When she initially shuttered her little - tavern, she thought she might just retire. She made it two - whole years of working in a garden, occasionally seeing - grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided - she needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a - nearby port town. She was sure to find something fun to do - there.
-Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of - debauchery wafting from within made her miss her days - gossiping at her tavern. She enters and orders a terrible - drink and listens and watches.
-Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she - decides, “I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that - sounds exciting!”
-Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join - on the journey!
-Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to - schmooze and have fun!
-
~
---Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! - This is a short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between - the recent narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they - see Gabs approaching from the other side of the ship as well, - and flashes them a grin in greeting. After listening to the - captain petering on about the glorious days of the now sunken - ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s tentacles — being - rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for the - effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
-
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a - breathing bell takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But - you get the hang of it and make a ladle out of your hands and - scoop one up.
-“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a - wink, but it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t - put it on until right before you jump. It won’t be able to - breathe for you until you’re in the water. And this!” he - continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your shoulders, - “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one - holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When - you’re ready to come back up, just start dropping ballast, - right?”
-You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell - on over your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and - hugs your head like a second skin, and its stubby little - tentacles grab hold around your jawline, and it feels like you - have a wet plastic bag clinging to your face, and you think - you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the urge to - panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are - briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing - through the surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
-The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to - do its job. As you sink, you feel as though you are floating - through space, entering another world.
-After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the - distance. As you get closer, two large shapes start to come - into focus. The first is a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half - (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. The second figure is a - tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has eight jointless - legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and - wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
-“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water - Bear, after all!”
-“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the - Sea! I am half bear after all! You’re just some kind of - segmented nematode or something.”
-The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you - know I’m a panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the - ideal physical body! You may not like it, but this is what - peak performance looks like. I’ve lived under the polar ice - cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot spring. I’ve traveled - through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you ever been to - the moon?”
-“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like - it so much!”
-“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure - you’re not the Fish of the Sea?”
-“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many - armed bowl of jelly?”
-“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted - your slow descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must - settle an argument for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish - that I am the true Bear of the Sea!”
-“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ - you egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of - a barnacle that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the - Sea! Say this and I will guide and protect you on your - journey.”
-“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, - tardigrade, am Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my - moon friends!”
-“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth - can stand him!”
-“You’re just mean, you know that?”
-You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is - no sight of the SS RSS.
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- - ]]> ---Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly - nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs - in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is - so valuable.
-That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these - crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean, - we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of - eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit - are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in - retrieving them?
-
“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of - his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor - is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages! - There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But - not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them - were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I - arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.
---I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to - bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and - the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these - crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.
-Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many - shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what - you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a - chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something - here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know - it.
-
“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin - chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is - precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous - cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their - well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just - sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come - across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”
-Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere - suggestion of evil.
-“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?” - Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really - think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for - a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak - Crystal? Surely not!”
-“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must - all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a - competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy - them safely!”
---META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make - it quicker to write
-Y’aml
-
- I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY - evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them - without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in - the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind. - Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing - things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil - evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little - stab~Corraidhin to Y’aml
-
- Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were - borrowing something that had been cast on the ground, - abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But - you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we - can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword, - and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So - unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think - we’re out of luck here.
Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion. - “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It - squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration. - With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size - of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.
-“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily. - “Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye - glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”
---While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s - secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the - table.
-They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being - most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the - crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party - had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their - marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed - Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now - occupied a small office to one side of the building complete - with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms - it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate - with words by making them little croutons etched with letters, - but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.
-
Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk - Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at - Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and - chortling merrily to itself.
-You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and - bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with - that.
---A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten - used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s - gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an - eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over - Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation - they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin - sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was - said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand. - They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which - sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems - the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.
-
You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is - indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that - far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product - would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing - than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus - far.
-Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the - blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!
---Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime? - Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped - into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a - trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost - pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry - oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles. - Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably - inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe, - which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying, - was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and - sandalwood ink.
-
Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking - the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully - when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room. - Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his - shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the - presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a - bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the - recipe.
-He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he - skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some - veggies and starts pan frying them.
-Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he - pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.
-> A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?
- - ]]> -Total length: 24524 words / 104 minute read.
-There have been 98 messages posted over 108 days since the first post -on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.
+Total length: 25057 words / 107 minute read.
+There have been 101 messages posted over 112 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.
This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.
@@ -2943,6 +2944,64 @@ of the SS RSS.WHAT DO YOU DO
+++Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be two true +bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally think the ocean +doesn’t have enough bears and could do with two strapping examples of +true peak bearitude! The two of you should be working together to show +the world how important bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have +two. And the moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two +bears?
+The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is when it’s +calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you know you’re in for a +hell of a bad time. And since neither of you are it, I say we let this +matter rest and declare this ocean two bears richer!
+Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his cloak, just +in case. No need for a blood rush like last time, can’t let daggers go +mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the ocean needs less bears, it’s +tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would react to bear blood..
+
The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a dreadful +bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention him!”
+“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an embarrassment to +bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
+“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if one of +them is HE!”
+The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm, two +bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade a scrupulous side-eye. +“Do you truly think so?”
+“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the +tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of ocean all +around you.
+“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of stars! +The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it not?”
+“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
+“Brother!”
+The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never experienced +the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then you don’t know how soft +and enveloping it is.
+“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must begin our +search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of the Sea yet to be +discovered?”
+“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I can’t stand +the thought!” sobs the merbear.
+They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear love. “Good +luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the merbear to you over its +shoulder. “If you ever end up on the moon,” adds the tardigrade, +laughing merrily, “say hello to Hap’n’stance for me!”
+Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a rush of +current as massive amounts of water are displaced by inky black +tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach! They grasp! One grabs +the tardigrade around the middle. Another grabs the merbear by the tail. +Both bears cry and reach for each other as they are ripped apart and +pulled down below.
+The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and +threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and at your +ankles!
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria