Total length: 83975 words / 358 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +
Total length: 85483 words / 365 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)
-There have been 226 messages posted over 228 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .99.
+There have been 229 messages posted over 229 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.00.
This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.
Jump to: 1 2
Kasutva clings to your leg as you fall, crying. “We’re sorry. We’re
sorry,” they say over and over as you are pulled below the waves. WHAT DO YOU DO “Thank you. May your search brings you good tidings.” Inky replies
+with a smile and nod towards the sea. “As to what brings me here, another traveller and myself have been
+summoned to the Harpoon Club at a Wandering Bazaar. However, despite
+uncovering the occasional biscuit tin or cotton candy wheel, my knack
+for thing-finding doesn’t really extend to sentient bazaars in pocket
+dimensions.” Inky chuckles wryly. “Might you happen to know the
+way?” As they end their question, Inky slips their hands into the pockets
+of their hooded vest and is met with an envelope nestled within one of
+them. A message from Master Alex. The packet is a bit lumpy to the
+touch, as though there is a small round object inside. The sysorcerer
+may have decided to spend some quality time with his stalker after all.
+Must be lovely to have a dedicated fan. The two wouldn’t mind if Inky
+went on a spot of sightseeing. “Also, did you say the Throne of Konsu?” They glance in the direction
+of the large tower and back to the figure before them. “Ah, you don’t know the story of Lord Konsu?” The ravenfolk beckons
+you to walk with him as you talk. “In the beginning, nobody knew how to
+dream. There were no real people then. Just beasts and
+creatures and horrors. “So at that point, every creature visited Ousia only twice: at the
+moment of birth, and at the moment of death. And all the time in between
+was spent longing to return to the sea.” At the ravenfolk’s side, the world spins under your feet. In mere
+steps, you have made it to the base of the mountain jutting from the
+center of the island. “And one day, Konsu did. He dreamed. He was the first. Each night he
+returned to the sea, and it swallowed his madness and his wildness. It
+evolved his mind. It is dreaming, you see, that makes you human. “The sea claims everything though eventually. But you know this
+already. You crossed the sea. Surely you saw how it can work on dreamers
+who have tarried here too long.” Still the ravenfolk guides you onward until you arrive at the base of
+the fractal tower, all purple and yellow stones. You step inside and find voluminous halls, walls lined with statues
+of all subjects. Fawns in revelry, elegant women in repose, terrible
+giants in agony, warriors standing at attention, leaping fish, and
+roaring lions. He leads you through a labyrinth of empty halls, up grand stairs,
+across yawning vestibules and dizzying bridges suspended between towers
+as he continues to talk. “Ousia works even on Konsu the Lord of All Dreams. Ephermeris is his
+throne, it’s true. But it is also his prison. The island is
+Konsu, you see. He is no longer at liberty to roam his domain himself,
+in his own flesh. But perhaps you have already met one of his avatars?
+Morpheus? The Dude 215R? Kilroy? Hmm, yes, I see that you have. “Well,” he says pulling up short of an archway. You can hear voices
+and laughter and the clinking of dinnerware on the other side. “I
+believe we have arrived at your destination. I thank you for the
+company, and will leave you here.” The ravenfolk withdraws, disappearing once more into the maze of the
+tower. You look through the archway and see a plush dinner club absolutely
+packed with patrons of all possible shapes and sizes. The Harpoon
+Club. You catch somebody waving at you from a table in the far corner.
+Blavin Blandfoot. He grins and beckons you forward. Joining him is a tall, slender cat person. Its facial features mostly
+obscured by its jet-black fur. And with their back to you, a wizened old
+man. The three of them are in the middle of a round of tumbrot, a
+complicated game of wagers—overly complicated, some would say—involving
+a special deck of cards, a set of dice, and a tumbling tower of
+blocks. You watch as the cat reaches out and carefully removes a block from
+the middle of the tower. It places it on top, and the tower sways. The
+group at the table excitedly holds its breath, and when the tower falls,
+the cat holds its head in its hands in exaggerated dismay. The old man
+whoops and gathers up his winnings and then turns and looks over his
+shoulder in the direction that Blavin is waving. Corraidhín the Sysorcerer grins and waves at you. Alex pulls at the trigger of the ak and he plummets towards the waves
+sending a wave of cold lead towards the bigger Katsuva. “Son of a bitch,
+never trust someone who has to hide their face, agent 7, marvelo, always
+was right on that one.” Hell, dunno if magical dream guns work on
+mushrooms, but to hell with it, Alex thought. He plunges into the water gripping tightly to his weapon, the little
+katsuva clinging to him. As the water wraps around him he kicks at the
+little mushroom breaking its grasp on his leg, and begins to swim back
+up to the surface. “Like hell we’re doing this your way cavatappi
+dude.” Back in the real world.. Marvelo stares bleakly at the child and his assailant. “Who the fuck
+do you think you are? And what the hell are you doing with the kid,
+Rind, ain’t nothin good to come from some shady bloke like you. The hell
+do you think you’re teaching him?” As Marvelo hurls insults as demands at his assailant he slyly presses
+his thumb and forefinger into the palm of his left hand, breaking a
+small resistor embedded in his palm which activates as feint electrical
+pulse inside his body. Just enough to trigger a Zabbix alarm, which
+kicks off a series out automated correction scripts. A dose of
+adrenaline here, a quick alaert to the remaining agents with a broadcast
+LAT/LONG details via encrypted twtxt feed, but most importantly
+something special Alex had each agent prepare, just in case their luck
+ran out, an alarm only the damned could sleep through. The screech of heavy metal music blares throughout the audio system
+of the warehouse, every alarm and speaker comes alive blaring heavy
+riffs of guitar and wicked drums fill the air while screaming echos
+around the building. Marvelo laughs maniacly as his uninvited guest
+reels at the unexpected turn of events. “Alex! We caught him!” Marvelo yells through his laughing fit. Gliftwirp frowns as the sirens wail in the fish market. He tightens
+the rope around Marvelo’s neck. Deprived of oxygen, Marvelo struggles
+and then goes limp. The hemogoblin in the corner trembles as an overpowering sense of
+JUSTICE sings in its veins. It gnashes its teeth and its bloodshoot eyes
+become pupil-less pools of red. A single word dances on the tip of its
+tongue. It watches as Gliftwirp stands at the edge of the ritual circle,
+looking in. Pillows and blankets creep slowly toward the dreamers like
+slugs intent on smothering them. The hemogoblin launches itself into the air with a cry of “EEEEE!
+VULL!” and lands on the assassin’s back, sinking its teeth into the nape
+of his neck and reaching its claws around for his face. Gliftwirp cries out in pain and surprise. His hands shoot back to pry
+the thing from his back even as he is propelled forward by the force of
+the attack. Gliftwirp and the hemogoblin cross the circle of salt and ash and
+spill into the pillows in a heap and instantly both of them fall fast
+asleep. An observer would almost think they were cuddling each other in their
+sleep. If it weren’t, that is, for the goblin’s claws, still sunk into
+the side of the warpwefter’s face. Rind, sired by the melon seller, abandoned by his own mother, and
+adopted by the assassin, watches all of this unfold. And sits down and
+strokes the duck’s feathers. ~ Alex’s ascent into the waking world is interrupted by a surge that
+tugs him sideways and off track. The presence of new arrivals in the
+stream, the tenuous connection between the waking and dreaming worlds
+held open by the Dream Sigil. Somebody beckoning him, summoning him. He emerges from the void into an endless, featureless expanse. Plain,
+loose, dark soil as far as the eye can see, with only a small rock or
+two here and there to break up the monotony. The black empty sky looms
+ominously overhead. Before you is a tall, slender person in voluminous robes of deep
+purple. Their soft, smooth face framed by curtains of long, straight,
+blonde hair. They wear a golden circlet on their head and a golden eye
+in the middle of their forehead. And in their hands they wield a
+resplendent longsword. Shreds of a tattered red cloth lie strewn about their feet. They lift their head at your appearance. “Alex,” they say. “It is
+good that we finally meet. You have done me a great service in gathering
+pieces of my essence—including this, the Sword of Y’aml!—so that I may
+finally start to return to Basmentaria. You have done so much already,
+but I am afraid I must ask more of you still.” WHAT DO YOU DO I don’t know what I’m going to put here, but I didn’t want this
document to just abruptly end. So here you go: a kind farewell and a
diff --git a/www/rss.xml b/www/rss.xml
index bad9f73..9520c98 100644
--- a/www/rss.xml
+++ b/www/rss.xml
@@ -114,225 +114,6 @@ And Fortune said it shou'd be you. Puu."
]]>
- “Greetings, Great One.” Inky bows, back parallel to the
- ground while they stand on the branch, now a humanoid child in
- a black uniform and matching bookbag hanging under one arm.
- The banana boat is nowhere in sight. Fuko follows her errant
- charge and the cloaked figure from a nearby branch. “This lowly one wonders if they may be permitted to seek
- the Great Spirit’s insight, whose wisdom endures before and
- beyond.” Inky begins, staring down the blurry reflection of
- silver boughs overhead on the polished toes of their black
- shoes. They notice idly they do not see themselves in the
- reflection. Straightening from the bow, they look up at the figure and
- hold out a plate of taiyaki. After a moment, the child asks
- haltingly, “There may come a day when this one will be asked
- to choose between the chance to protect many and that which
- they desire to protect most. Should this one choose equally?
- Will the choice matter if both paths eventually lead to
- destruction? Could destruction and salvation be two sides of
- the same coin?” You and the Dude are sitting in small upholstered chairs,
- across a small half table from each other. There is a large
- sticky bun on a white lacy doily on the table. Next to you is
- a small portal-sized window, and outside you can see green
- rolling hills and small copses of trees fly by. The other
- seats on the small train car are all empty. The two of you are
- alone. “I cannot give you advice,” the Dude says. “But I can offer
- you experience.” They raise a hand and hold a loosely closed fist out over
- the table. The walls of the train become fuzzy and blurry,
- then translucent, and finally transparent. They disappear and
- you have the sensation of rocketing through space at dizzying
- speeds. The track splits ahead you. To one side, bound to one track
- is that which you desire to protect most. Bound to the other
- are the many. “You can choose safely here. It’s just a dream, after all.”
- The Dude opens their fist. The Twenty-one Fiver coin rests in
- their palm. “Heads, you steer the train into the many, sparing
- that which you love most. Tails, the opposite. You spare the
- many, and sacrifice that which you hold dear.” They hold the
- coin out to you. The train barrels toward the fork. “But choose quickly,
- lest the choice be made for you.” Alex scrambles from the wreckage of his mech, or what
- remained from the gore portal he’d just experienced. The
- thought of what had occurred made him grimace, which was an
- unusual state of affairs for an octopus, that is until Alex
- realized he seemed to be back in his own body. “Sunset, or perhaps rise? It’s hard to tell. Pretty
- though.. could be prettier without the creepy knife dude.”
- Alex mutters to himself while he rummages through the
- destroyed cockpit of the mech. He makes quick work, detaches a
- side panel, pulls a couple of wires, and a compartment in the
- back opens revealing the smooth dark blue metal and wood grain
- of an ak74u sub machine gun. Amused Alex pulls the weapon from
- the compartment and notices a distinct lack of additional
- magazines, just the one large drum attached to the weapon with
- large red letters emblazoned on it [INFINITE AMMO].
- “Neat.” Alex pulls himself from the wreck, and jumps down behind
- one of the fallen tentacles taking a firing position behind
- cover, ak74u aimed down range at the faceless figure. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t trust anyone who
- approaches with a weapon. Let’s both stand down and talk this
- through! I’m not supposed to be here, and I reckon you don’t
- want me here either. I’d be happy to oblige and skidaddle if
- you’d be so kind as to point the way out!” Alex pauses waiting
- for a reply. The tall figure halts a short distance away. It raises a
- hand and waves. In greeting? Surrender? In a fluid motion it
- continues to lift the same hand and grabs a hold of its trunk,
- a little less than a foot from the tip. It squeezes its fist
- tightly and the tip begins to swell. It raises its other hand,
- and the knife, and starts to saw into the flesh of the trunk
- behind its fist. The blade cuts cleanly as though through a
- loaf of bread. There is no blood or gore. When the creature lowers its hand, you can see that the
- center of the trunk is a solid, bright pink fleshy material
- like a grapefruit, in the center of which are two pin-prick
- eyes and a wide thin gash of a mouth. It still holds the tip of its severed trunk in its hand, a
- thin stalk and a bulging cap looking for all the world like a
- large white button mushroom. Peering up from the stem of the
- mushroom, an identical pink face regards you stoically. Both faces speak at the exact same time, one high pitched
- and one a deep baritone. “Welcome, Dreamer, to Ousia, the Sea
- of Dreams. We are Kasutva.” Big Kasutva stoops down to set the small mushroom Kasutva
- down on the ground. If they’re both Kasutva, that is. If
- that’s the way their biology and sense of self actually works.
- Mushroom Kasutva wobbles side to side a little bit and waggles
- its stalk as it looks around. Big Kasutva places its knife
- back in its satchel and takes a few small steps closer to
- you. “We did not mean to offend you,” the two say, still
- perfectly in sync. “As for the way out, that depends only
- somewhat on your destination. Whatever the answer, we can
- assure you that it lies across the sea.” Large Kasutva
- gestures broadly toward the expanse of ocean. Small Kasutva
- lacks any limbs and cannot gesture, but smiles softly at
- you. “But tell us what it is you seek. Perhaps we can be of
- help.” WHAT DO YOU DO Alex procures from a pocket of his trenchcoat a tiny vial.
- On the vial is a small strip of parchment which reads: He empties the vial into a glass of warm milk and hands it
- to bread. “Drink up friend, this’ll relax and soothe you. You’ll
- probably have the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had” Over the radio Alex provides a quick reminder to
- Marvelo. “7, remember, should you need to wake bread to get us out
- you can interrupt or cancel the sleep script, Ctrl + C should
- work for the disruption work. Or if you need to you can set
- sleepy=false, if it gets crazy and you need to modify the
- metavarbalic properties of the enchantment.” Turning to Inky, “Eight bells and all’s well, lets get this
- show on the road” Bread smiles and thanks you for the milk. They down the
- glass, smack their lips a few times, and wipe their mouth with
- the back of their hand. Their eyelids grow heavy and close,
- and they slump down on the cushions. They’re already asleep by
- the time their head hits the pillow. Inky nods once at Alex’s words and finishes off their own
- cuppa steeped with calea and thyme, and blended into osmanthus
- matcha. Lucida, Protege, Aware, Perfume. A meaningless
- mantra. They glance to their owlish accomplice (who, she will
- remind you, is well-trained and needs no sleeping aid, thank
- you very much, unlike her impish charge) and silently mouth
- the words “Dude 215R” with a wink. Then they settle for a nap,
- chin pillowed on their forearms, which are propped atop
- drawn-up knees. A walking stick rests on their lap. A herb
- bouquet of pink blooms becomes an owl cushion. Inky dreamforms of a cream noogle. Puko. And Fuko is, well,
- still Fuko. You light the Nyxmaer. The flame crackles and dances. It
- smokes darkly, and the scent it gives off is thick and
- heady. You breathe deeply of it and settle down to sleep. When you open your eyes you are standing on the branch of
- an enormous white tree. It’s as wide as a narrow street. Its
- leaves are silver blades that uncurl in the dappled light from
- below. One of the first things you notice is that gravity is
- reversed here. The branches below you reach down, grazing an
- endless sky. Small iridescent jellyfish medusae drift lazily
- far, far below, catching and reflecting the light. And the
- trunk thickens as it reaches up overhead, where its roots
- drill into the ceiling above. Because of dream logic, you know that in some way this tree
- represents Kelsun Peak, Bread’s home. And also because of
- dream logic, you know that the branches furthest away from you
- in some way represent the great dragon Lucin who lives deep in
- the mountain. And they are just as dangerous. They sway in the
- breeze and seem to be aware of you, and are for now satisfied
- at the distance you keep from them. There is a chipmunk sitting cross-legged before you on the
- branch. It looks curiously up at you and says, “The Red
- Squirrel stole my acorns! Are you going to get them back for
- me?” You can feel a metaphysical tug in your gut as your orient
- yourself to dreamspace like the needle of a compass. “Inward”
- you can feel a tug toward Bread’s deep unconscious. To their
- core memories. “Outward” you can feel a tug away from Bread
- toward the shores of the Sea of Dreams, where you may continue
- your journey through the Collective Unconsciousness to the
- pocket dimension of the Wandering Bazaar. You need not move
- physically to travel in either direction. It’s more a matter
- of choosing a destination, and letting the winds blow you in
- that direction. “My acorns!” insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. “The
- Red Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help
- me?” WHAT DO YOU DO Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is
- definitely strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him
- with his impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately
- the same can’t be said for his roguish good looks, as he’s
- found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he
- remembers. Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment,
- and he promptly moves on with assessing the situation. “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are
- terrible at fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a
- dreadfully important meeting across town.” turning to address
- Inky, “We need to make a break for it, what’d the witch tell
- you? Envision our goal or something? This is really a little
- outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise..
- unless..” Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a
- terminal prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at
- blinding speed at the digital window, a quick bypass there, a
- root access escalation there. “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older
- kernel, about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as
- needed. Here I’m giving us sudo access, should we need
- it.” “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns” “Greetings, Great One.” Inky bows, back parallel to the
+ ground while they stand on the branch, now a humanoid child in
+ a black uniform and matching bookbag hanging under one arm.
+ The banana boat is nowhere in sight. Fuko follows her errant
+ charge and the cloaked figure from a nearby branch. “This lowly one wonders if they may be permitted to seek
+ the Great Spirit’s insight, whose wisdom endures before and
+ beyond.” Inky begins, staring down the blurry reflection of
+ silver boughs overhead on the polished toes of their black
+ shoes. They notice idly they do not see themselves in the
+ reflection. Straightening from the bow, they look up at the figure and
+ hold out a plate of taiyaki. After a moment, the child asks
+ haltingly, “There may come a day when this one will be asked
+ to choose between the chance to protect many and that which
+ they desire to protect most. Should this one choose equally?
+ Will the choice matter if both paths eventually lead to
+ destruction? Could destruction and salvation be two sides of
+ the same coin?” It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he
- corrects ‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to
- the chipmunk instead of to the squirrel. Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It
- squeals in delight. In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell
- of what can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns
- has just vanished. The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts
- scooping up acorns by the armful and shoving them into its
- mouth by the dozen. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it
- says around a mouthful of nuts. “Here…” It tosses you a large
- square silver coin with a round hole drilled in the center. On
- one side is the number twenty-one next to a picture of a
- curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the number
- five and a picture of a flail. “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all
- I have,” it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide
- its nuts. Hopefully somewhere more secure this time. If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the
- hole, you see the dreamscape before you as though looking
- through a cloudy film. All the same stuff is there, but it’s
- hazy and shadowy. Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out
- of hailing distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes.
- Dark shadows pool restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the
- shadows leap up and take the form of demons the like of which
- words cannot describe, before falling and returning to shadow
- once more. The figure wears a large spherical helmet of
- obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of a rainbow
- of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet
- like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel
- sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels
- a tug, a familiarity. Something about this character is
- familiar to you, but you cannot place it. When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape
- both disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted
- landscape reappears but the figure is gone. You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather
- intently from the branches below. You and the Dude are sitting in small upholstered chairs,
+ across a small half table from each other. There is a large
+ sticky bun on a white lacy doily on the table. Next to you is
+ a small portal-sized window, and outside you can see green
+ rolling hills and small copses of trees fly by. The other
+ seats on the small train car are all empty. The two of you are
+ alone. “I cannot give you advice,” the Dude says. “But I can offer
+ you experience.” They raise a hand and hold a loosely closed fist out over
+ the table. The walls of the train become fuzzy and blurry,
+ then translucent, and finally transparent. They disappear and
+ you have the sensation of rocketing through space at dizzying
+ speeds. The track splits ahead you. To one side, bound to one track
+ is that which you desire to protect most. Bound to the other
+ are the many. “You can choose safely here. It’s just a dream, after all.”
+ The Dude opens their fist. The Twenty-one Fiver coin rests in
+ their palm. “Heads, you steer the train into the many, sparing
+ that which you love most. Tails, the opposite. You spare the
+ many, and sacrifice that which you hold dear.” They hold the
+ coin out to you. The train barrels toward the fork. “But choose quickly,
+ lest the choice be made for you.” Alex scrambles from the wreckage of his mech, or what
+ remained from the gore portal he’d just experienced. The
+ thought of what had occurred made him grimace, which was an
+ unusual state of affairs for an octopus, that is until Alex
+ realized he seemed to be back in his own body. “Sunset, or perhaps rise? It’s hard to tell. Pretty
+ though.. could be prettier without the creepy knife dude.”
+ Alex mutters to himself while he rummages through the
+ destroyed cockpit of the mech. He makes quick work, detaches a
+ side panel, pulls a couple of wires, and a compartment in the
+ back opens revealing the smooth dark blue metal and wood grain
+ of an ak74u sub machine gun. Amused Alex pulls the weapon from
+ the compartment and notices a distinct lack of additional
+ magazines, just the one large drum attached to the weapon with
+ large red letters emblazoned on it [INFINITE AMMO].
+ “Neat.” Alex pulls himself from the wreck, and jumps down behind
+ one of the fallen tentacles taking a firing position behind
+ cover, ak74u aimed down range at the faceless figure. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t trust anyone who
+ approaches with a weapon. Let’s both stand down and talk this
+ through! I’m not supposed to be here, and I reckon you don’t
+ want me here either. I’d be happy to oblige and skidaddle if
+ you’d be so kind as to point the way out!” Alex pauses waiting
+ for a reply. The tall figure halts a short distance away. It raises a
+ hand and waves. In greeting? Surrender? In a fluid motion it
+ continues to lift the same hand and grabs a hold of its trunk,
+ a little less than a foot from the tip. It squeezes its fist
+ tightly and the tip begins to swell. It raises its other hand,
+ and the knife, and starts to saw into the flesh of the trunk
+ behind its fist. The blade cuts cleanly as though through a
+ loaf of bread. There is no blood or gore. When the creature lowers its hand, you can see that the
+ center of the trunk is a solid, bright pink fleshy material
+ like a grapefruit, in the center of which are two pin-prick
+ eyes and a wide thin gash of a mouth. It still holds the tip of its severed trunk in its hand, a
+ thin stalk and a bulging cap looking for all the world like a
+ large white button mushroom. Peering up from the stem of the
+ mushroom, an identical pink face regards you stoically. Both faces speak at the exact same time, one high pitched
+ and one a deep baritone. “Welcome, Dreamer, to Ousia, the Sea
+ of Dreams. We are Kasutva.” Big Kasutva stoops down to set the small mushroom Kasutva
+ down on the ground. If they’re both Kasutva, that is. If
+ that’s the way their biology and sense of self actually works.
+ Mushroom Kasutva wobbles side to side a little bit and waggles
+ its stalk as it looks around. Big Kasutva places its knife
+ back in its satchel and takes a few small steps closer to
+ you. “We did not mean to offend you,” the two say, still
+ perfectly in sync. “As for the way out, that depends only
+ somewhat on your destination. Whatever the answer, we can
+ assure you that it lies across the sea.” Large Kasutva
+ gestures broadly toward the expanse of ocean. Small Kasutva
+ lacks any limbs and cannot gesture, but smiles softly at
+ you. “But tell us what it is you seek. Perhaps we can be of
+ help.” WHAT DO YOU DO (A week prior) The secretary collected the stack of papers that had
- accumulated at one corner of the desk. “This might help,” she
- said, setting down a bundle of herbs with white and pink
- flowers in place of the papers. Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl’s
- plumage. “Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It’ll help make
- the stench more bearable when they find the remains.” The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as
- the words sank in. “That’s not what I meant! It’s for the
- circle,” she clarified. Seeing the imp’s preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to
- regain their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice.
- “Beaker’s associates have picked up the empanada shop
- proprietor and transported him to an undisclosed location.
- There will be a retinue with him at all times.” Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room
- before responding, “Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I
- do not return by the indicated time, please activate the
- hitsuzen protocol. As precaution.” The secretary looked at Inky in concern. “Is everything all
- right? If you’re still troubled by the hotelier, accidents
- happen. A single incident—” “Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He
- was probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the
- other stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after
- the melon vendor disappeared.” Salvia’s violet eyes narrowed. “What, the fruit vendor?
- Didn’t the tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get
- rid of a neighbor’s nest of snakes.” Inky only raised an eyebrow at her. The secretary let out a low curse. “You didn’t tell her.
- You didn’t want her to worry,” she said aloud in realization.
- She sighed. “She’s going to be pretty angry with you when she
- finds out, you know.” Inky offered her a sardonic smile. “Making people angry is
- my job. You of all people know this well. In the event of my
- timely demise I’m sure the others would find it cause for a
- grand celebration.” They replied matter-of-factly before
- returning to smoothing the feathers of one bird wing. Salvia shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. You’ll
- make it back, Ink. What then—” “Then our fair Lady’s ire would be the least of the
- problems.” ~ Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He’d received
- word of agent 5’s demise that morning, and had been the only
- thing on his mind since. 5, no Be’tram knew the risks, we all
- knew the risks defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly?
- He’d snuck down to the wharf once he’d heard, making sure to
- cover his tracks and dodge any potential witnesses. He even
- managed to slip past the police cordon they’d setup around the
- body. What he’d found wasn’t pretty, it looked like Be’Tram
- had suffered in his final moments. The bruising around his
- neck pointed to strangulation, with some sort of cloth,
- perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there wasn’t a cut,
- burn, shot or something of the likes on his otherwise. The kill had been intimate. Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be’Tram’s eye
- had been hard, but he’d of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his
- right eye was a recording device, it could only catch the last
- 15m or so of what he had seen, but it would give him a clear
- look at what had happened. And potentially lead Alex to the
- killer. Miserable business, but Be’Tram knew it could make a
- difference. Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted
- the eye, and made his way well away from the area before it
- went off obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an
- old friend, but it was too dangerous to leave. And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little
- purple red critical for the sewer hideout. He’d had time to
- send out a drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was
- reassuring. Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks
- upon racks of servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The
- effectively of the destruction was delightful, in a sick sort
- of desperate way. Alex felt assured that most if not all of
- the equipment was useless, but this spelled the end of a
- valuable listening outpost. And whoever had done it wasn’t
- part of the slag pile. Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his
- burbled in quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the
- Melon vendor’s death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but
- none of them held true; some said the city had become
- dangerous, a crime syndicate had arisen in the neighboring
- city block another thought, and did you hear about the
- explosion at the wharf the other night, the city was electric,
- yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the issue. As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses
- strode past the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling
- the note from beneath the coffee cup, left for her. For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled
- carelessly on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf.
- But for Agent 3 it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s
- demise recovered from his eyecam, one part orders; stay low
- and we’ll strike these bastards from the shadows, on our
- terms, on our ground. Similar missives were delivered to
- Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were dwindling rapidly, even
- just one agent lost was hard to stomach. Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a
- white knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into
- the city. Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to
- Be’Tram, it had better know he was coming, and he’d happily
- send it straight to hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned,
- this little game of cat and mouse had just gotten
- personal. ~ Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves
- in a dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish
- processing plant on the wharf. The accommodations are rough,
- and the stench is abhorrent, but it’s the best that could be
- procured in a pinch. And it should provide enough
- seclusion. The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near
- the ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way
- along the side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights,
- before it reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a
- single steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the
- fish processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand
- still, covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You’re glad
- to know that the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene
- is lacking in every sense. Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is
- a grey overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn’t like
- what him and Inky were about to do, but they didn’t have much
- they could do about it. They would be vulnerable for the
- duration of the ritual. But Agent 7 and Confidence were there
- to help mitigate that risk. Alex and Agent 7 had taken every
- precaution they could think of. The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires,
- and alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones
- around the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to
- Agent 7 for recon. And that was on top of the double barred
- steel doors, and reinforced glass box they’d chosen as their
- hide out. Meticulously planned, Alex expected no less from
- Agent 7. See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then
- some. He was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense
- that came from years of close calls. He was, simply put, the
- right man for the job, when that job was keeping your
- unconscious ass alive. Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky.
- “Apologies for the smell, it turns out there’s a strong
- correlation between disgust and seclusion, but I believe we
- should at least be safe here. Safer than we would have been
- back home. I’m ready if you are, as ready as I’ll ever be that
- is.” The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon
- Club this evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found
- on this plane of existence. It won’t appear until a week and a
- half from now, on the last day of the month. Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the
- Wandering Bazaar will be on that day. With a small bucket of
- red paint and a large brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on
- the ground at the location. He sits nearby, making sure
- careless passersby and mischievous kids don’t disturb it, but
- otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies of the bustle
- of shopping and commerce. At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps
- vigilant watch, alert to every movement and disturbance. And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in
- the office in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a
- dark circle that has been smudged on the floor with a paste
- made of ash and salt. Painted on the ground is a second
- Linking Sigil, connecting this spot to Confidence’s, allowing
- the energies of the two locations to co-mingle. There is also
- the Dream Sigil, which will connect this place to the
- Dreaming. Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions
- in the center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle
- is alleged to be made of the flesh and fat of a certain
- nightmare. Its hand and eye bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil
- is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the key. The catalyst that
- will cause all of the otherwise inert metaphysical particles
- to become volatile and reactive. It is what will allow you to
- actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the Sea of
- Dreams. Per the shop witch’s instructions, the Nyxmaer has been
- placed on a thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax
- will soften and eventually allow the large metal nail in its
- side to fall. When it strikes the plate, you will awaken,
- exiting the Dreaming. You expect hours may pass in the realm
- of sleep. But only about thirty minutes will pass here. Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter,
- facing Bread in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky’s
- side. It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical
- candles set around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady
- rain beats on the roof and the windows of the building. The
- smell of fish is faint but ever-present. A constant reminder
- of the small creatures that have left their bodies in a
- fashion far more permanent and irreversible than the
- separation of spirit and body you are about to experience. You
- hope. WHAT DO YOU DO How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in
- Bread? What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the
- Dreaming? What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being
- exposed in the dreamland, the realm of metaphor? “Thank you. May your search brings you good tidings.” Inky
+ replies with a smile and nod towards the sea. “As to what brings me here, another traveller and myself
+ have been summoned to the Harpoon Club at a Wandering Bazaar.
+ However, despite uncovering the occasional biscuit tin or
+ cotton candy wheel, my knack for thing-finding doesn’t really
+ extend to sentient bazaars in pocket dimensions.” Inky
+ chuckles wryly. “Might you happen to know the way?” As they end their question, Inky slips their hands into the
+ pockets of their hooded vest and is met with an envelope
+ nestled within one of them. A message from Master Alex. The
+ packet is a bit lumpy to the touch, as though there is a small
+ round object inside. The sysorcerer may have decided to spend
+ some quality time with his stalker after all. Must be lovely
+ to have a dedicated fan. The two wouldn’t mind if Inky went on
+ a spot of sightseeing. “Also, did you say the Throne of Konsu?” They glance in the
+ direction of the large tower and back to the figure before
+ them. “Ah, you don’t know the story of Lord Konsu?” The ravenfolk
+ beckons you to walk with him as you talk. “In the beginning,
+ nobody knew how to dream. There were no real people
+ then. Just beasts and creatures and horrors. “So at that point, every creature visited Ousia only twice:
+ at the moment of birth, and at the moment of death. And all
+ the time in between was spent longing to return to the
+ sea.” At the ravenfolk’s side, the world spins under your feet.
+ In mere steps, you have made it to the base of the mountain
+ jutting from the center of the island. “And one day, Konsu did. He dreamed. He was the first. Each
+ night he returned to the sea, and it swallowed his madness and
+ his wildness. It evolved his mind. It is dreaming, you see,
+ that makes you human. “The sea claims everything though eventually. But you know
+ this already. You crossed the sea. Surely you saw how it can
+ work on dreamers who have tarried here too long.” Still the ravenfolk guides you onward until you arrive at
+ the base of the fractal tower, all purple and yellow
+ stones. You step inside and find voluminous halls, walls lined with
+ statues of all subjects. Fawns in revelry, elegant women in
+ repose, terrible giants in agony, warriors standing at
+ attention, leaping fish, and roaring lions. He leads you through a labyrinth of empty halls, up grand
+ stairs, across yawning vestibules and dizzying bridges
+ suspended between towers as he continues to talk. “Ousia works even on Konsu the Lord of All Dreams.
+ Ephermeris is his throne, it’s true. But it is also his
+ prison. The island is Konsu, you see. He is no longer
+ at liberty to roam his domain himself, in his own flesh. But
+ perhaps you have already met one of his avatars? Morpheus? The
+ Dude 215R? Kilroy? Hmm, yes, I see that you have. “Well,” he says pulling up short of an archway. You can
+ hear voices and laughter and the clinking of dinnerware on the
+ other side. “I believe we have arrived at your destination. I
+ thank you for the company, and will leave you here.” The ravenfolk withdraws, disappearing once more into the
+ maze of the tower. You look through the archway and see a plush dinner club
+ absolutely packed with patrons of all possible shapes and
+ sizes. The Harpoon Club. You catch somebody waving at you from a table in the far
+ corner. Blavin Blandfoot. He grins and beckons you
+ forward. Joining him is a tall, slender cat person. Its facial
+ features mostly obscured by its jet-black fur. And with their
+ back to you, a wizened old man. The three of them are in the
+ middle of a round of tumbrot, a complicated game of
+ wagers—overly complicated, some would say—involving a special
+ deck of cards, a set of dice, and a tumbling tower of
+ blocks. You watch as the cat reaches out and carefully removes a
+ block from the middle of the tower. It places it on top, and
+ the tower sways. The group at the table excitedly holds its
+ breath, and when the tower falls, the cat holds its head in
+ its hands in exaggerated dismay. The old man whoops and
+ gathers up his winnings and then turns and looks over his
+ shoulder in the direction that Blavin is waving. Corraidhín the Sysorcerer grins and waves at you. Alex pulls at the trigger of the ak and he plummets towards
+ the waves sending a wave of cold lead towards the bigger
+ Katsuva. “Son of a bitch, never trust someone who has to hide
+ their face, agent 7, marvelo, always was right on that one.”
+ Hell, dunno if magical dream guns work on mushrooms, but to
+ hell with it, Alex thought. He plunges into the water gripping tightly to his weapon,
+ the little katsuva clinging to him. As the water wraps around
+ him he kicks at the little mushroom breaking its grasp on his
+ leg, and begins to swim back up to the surface. “Like hell
+ we’re doing this your way cavatappi dude.” Back in the real world.. Marvelo stares bleakly at the child and his assailant. “Who
+ the fuck do you think you are? And what the hell are you doing
+ with the kid, Rind, ain’t nothin good to come from some shady
+ bloke like you. The hell do you think you’re teaching
+ him?” As Marvelo hurls insults as demands at his assailant he
+ slyly presses his thumb and forefinger into the palm of his
+ left hand, breaking a small resistor embedded in his palm
+ which activates as feint electrical pulse inside his body.
+ Just enough to trigger a Zabbix alarm, which kicks off a
+ series out automated correction scripts. A dose of adrenaline
+ here, a quick alaert to the remaining agents with a broadcast
+ LAT/LONG details via encrypted twtxt feed, but most
+ importantly something special Alex had each agent prepare,
+ just in case their luck ran out, an alarm only the damned
+ could sleep through. The screech of heavy metal music blares throughout the
+ audio system of the warehouse, every alarm and speaker comes
+ alive blaring heavy riffs of guitar and wicked drums fill the
+ air while screaming echos around the building. Marvelo laughs
+ maniacly as his uninvited guest reels at the unexpected turn
+ of events. “Alex! We caught him!” Marvelo yells through his laughing
+ fit. Gliftwirp frowns as the sirens wail in the fish market. He
+ tightens the rope around Marvelo’s neck. Deprived of oxygen,
+ Marvelo struggles and then goes limp. The hemogoblin in the corner trembles as an overpowering
+ sense of JUSTICE sings in its veins. It gnashes its teeth and
+ its bloodshoot eyes become pupil-less pools of red. A single
+ word dances on the tip of its tongue. It watches as Gliftwirp stands at the edge of the ritual
+ circle, looking in. Pillows and blankets creep slowly toward
+ the dreamers like slugs intent on smothering them. The hemogoblin launches itself into the air with a cry of
+ “EEEEE! VULL!” and lands on the assassin’s back, sinking its
+ teeth into the nape of his neck and reaching its claws around
+ for his face. Gliftwirp cries out in pain and surprise. His hands shoot
+ back to pry the thing from his back even as he is propelled
+ forward by the force of the attack. Gliftwirp and the hemogoblin cross the circle of salt and
+ ash and spill into the pillows in a heap and instantly both of
+ them fall fast asleep. An observer would almost think they were cuddling each
+ other in their sleep. If it weren’t, that is, for the goblin’s
+ claws, still sunk into the side of the warpwefter’s face. Rind, sired by the melon seller, abandoned by his own
+ mother, and adopted by the assassin, watches all of this
+ unfold. And sits down and strokes the duck’s feathers. ~ Alex’s ascent into the waking world is interrupted by a
+ surge that tugs him sideways and off track. The presence of
+ new arrivals in the stream, the tenuous connection between the
+ waking and dreaming worlds held open by the Dream Sigil.
+ Somebody beckoning him, summoning him. He emerges from the void into an endless, featureless
+ expanse. Plain, loose, dark soil as far as the eye can see,
+ with only a small rock or two here and there to break up the
+ monotony. The black empty sky looms ominously overhead. Before you is a tall, slender person in voluminous robes of
+ deep purple. Their soft, smooth face framed by curtains of
+ long, straight, blonde hair. They wear a golden circlet on
+ their head and a golden eye in the middle of their forehead.
+ And in their hands they wield a resplendent longsword. Shreds of a tattered red cloth lie strewn about their
+ feet. They lift their head at your appearance. “Alex,” they say.
+ “It is good that we finally meet. You have done me a great
+ service in gathering pieces of my essence—including this, the
+ Sword of Y’aml!—so that I may finally start to return to
+ Basmentaria. You have done so much already, but I am afraid I
+ must ask more of you still.” WHAT DO YOU DO (A week prior) The secretary collected the stack of papers that had
+ accumulated at one corner of the desk. “This might help,” she
+ said, setting down a bundle of herbs with white and pink
+ flowers in place of the papers. Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl’s
+ plumage. “Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It’ll help make
+ the stench more bearable when they find the remains.” The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as
+ the words sank in. “That’s not what I meant! It’s for the
+ circle,” she clarified. Seeing the imp’s preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to
+ regain their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice.
+ “Beaker’s associates have picked up the empanada shop
+ proprietor and transported him to an undisclosed location.
+ There will be a retinue with him at all times.” Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room
+ before responding, “Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I
+ do not return by the indicated time, please activate the
+ hitsuzen protocol. As precaution.” The secretary looked at Inky in concern. “Is everything all
+ right? If you’re still troubled by the hotelier, accidents
+ happen. A single incident—” “Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He
+ was probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the
+ other stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after
+ the melon vendor disappeared.” Salvia’s violet eyes narrowed. “What, the fruit vendor?
+ Didn’t the tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get
+ rid of a neighbor’s nest of snakes.” Inky only raised an eyebrow at her. The secretary let out a low curse. “You didn’t tell her.
+ You didn’t want her to worry,” she said aloud in realization.
+ She sighed. “She’s going to be pretty angry with you when she
+ finds out, you know.” Inky offered her a sardonic smile. “Making people angry is
+ my job. You of all people know this well. In the event of my
+ timely demise I’m sure the others would find it cause for a
+ grand celebration.” They replied matter-of-factly before
+ returning to smoothing the feathers of one bird wing. Salvia shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. You’ll
+ make it back, Ink. What then—” “Then our fair Lady’s ire would be the least of the
+ problems.” ~ Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He’d received
+ word of agent 5’s demise that morning, and had been the only
+ thing on his mind since. 5, no Be’tram knew the risks, we all
+ knew the risks defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly?
+ He’d snuck down to the wharf once he’d heard, making sure to
+ cover his tracks and dodge any potential witnesses. He even
+ managed to slip past the police cordon they’d setup around the
+ body. What he’d found wasn’t pretty, it looked like Be’Tram
+ had suffered in his final moments. The bruising around his
+ neck pointed to strangulation, with some sort of cloth,
+ perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there wasn’t a cut,
+ burn, shot or something of the likes on his otherwise. The kill had been intimate. Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be’Tram’s eye
+ had been hard, but he’d of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his
+ right eye was a recording device, it could only catch the last
+ 15m or so of what he had seen, but it would give him a clear
+ look at what had happened. And potentially lead Alex to the
+ killer. Miserable business, but Be’Tram knew it could make a
+ difference. Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted
+ the eye, and made his way well away from the area before it
+ went off obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an
+ old friend, but it was too dangerous to leave. And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little
+ purple red critical for the sewer hideout. He’d had time to
+ send out a drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was
+ reassuring. Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks
+ upon racks of servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The
+ effectively of the destruction was delightful, in a sick sort
+ of desperate way. Alex felt assured that most if not all of
+ the equipment was useless, but this spelled the end of a
+ valuable listening outpost. And whoever had done it wasn’t
+ part of the slag pile. Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his
+ burbled in quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the
+ Melon vendor’s death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but
+ none of them held true; some said the city had become
+ dangerous, a crime syndicate had arisen in the neighboring
+ city block another thought, and did you hear about the
+ explosion at the wharf the other night, the city was electric,
+ yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the issue. As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses
+ strode past the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling
+ the note from beneath the coffee cup, left for her. For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled
+ carelessly on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf.
+ But for Agent 3 it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s
+ demise recovered from his eyecam, one part orders; stay low
+ and we’ll strike these bastards from the shadows, on our
+ terms, on our ground. Similar missives were delivered to
+ Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were dwindling rapidly, even
+ just one agent lost was hard to stomach. Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a
+ white knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into
+ the city. Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to
+ Be’Tram, it had better know he was coming, and he’d happily
+ send it straight to hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned,
+ this little game of cat and mouse had just gotten
+ personal. ~ Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves
+ in a dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish
+ processing plant on the wharf. The accommodations are rough,
+ and the stench is abhorrent, but it’s the best that could be
+ procured in a pinch. And it should provide enough
+ seclusion. The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near
+ the ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way
+ along the side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights,
+ before it reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a
+ single steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the
+ fish processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand
+ still, covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You’re glad
+ to know that the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene
+ is lacking in every sense. Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is
+ a grey overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn’t like
+ what him and Inky were about to do, but they didn’t have much
+ they could do about it. They would be vulnerable for the
+ duration of the ritual. But Agent 7 and Confidence were there
+ to help mitigate that risk. Alex and Agent 7 had taken every
+ precaution they could think of. The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires,
+ and alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones
+ around the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to
+ Agent 7 for recon. And that was on top of the double barred
+ steel doors, and reinforced glass box they’d chosen as their
+ hide out. Meticulously planned, Alex expected no less from
+ Agent 7. See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then
+ some. He was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense
+ that came from years of close calls. He was, simply put, the
+ right man for the job, when that job was keeping your
+ unconscious ass alive. Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky.
+ “Apologies for the smell, it turns out there’s a strong
+ correlation between disgust and seclusion, but I believe we
+ should at least be safe here. Safer than we would have been
+ back home. I’m ready if you are, as ready as I’ll ever be that
+ is.” The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon
+ Club this evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found
+ on this plane of existence. It won’t appear until a week and a
+ half from now, on the last day of the month. Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the
+ Wandering Bazaar will be on that day. With a small bucket of
+ red paint and a large brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on
+ the ground at the location. He sits nearby, making sure
+ careless passersby and mischievous kids don’t disturb it, but
+ otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies of the bustle
+ of shopping and commerce. At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps
+ vigilant watch, alert to every movement and disturbance. And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in
+ the office in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a
+ dark circle that has been smudged on the floor with a paste
+ made of ash and salt. Painted on the ground is a second
+ Linking Sigil, connecting this spot to Confidence’s, allowing
+ the energies of the two locations to co-mingle. There is also
+ the Dream Sigil, which will connect this place to the
+ Dreaming. Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions
+ in the center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle
+ is alleged to be made of the flesh and fat of a certain
+ nightmare. Its hand and eye bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil
+ is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the key. The catalyst that
+ will cause all of the otherwise inert metaphysical particles
+ to become volatile and reactive. It is what will allow you to
+ actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the Sea of
+ Dreams. Per the shop witch’s instructions, the Nyxmaer has been
+ placed on a thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax
+ will soften and eventually allow the large metal nail in its
+ side to fall. When it strikes the plate, you will awaken,
+ exiting the Dreaming. You expect hours may pass in the realm
+ of sleep. But only about thirty minutes will pass here. Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter,
+ facing Bread in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky’s
+ side. It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical
+ candles set around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady
+ rain beats on the roof and the windows of the building. The
+ smell of fish is faint but ever-present. A constant reminder
+ of the small creatures that have left their bodies in a
+ fashion far more permanent and irreversible than the
+ separation of spirit and body you are about to experience. You
+ hope. WHAT DO YOU DO How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in
+ Bread? What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the
+ Dreaming? What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being
+ exposed in the dreamland, the realm of metaphor? Alex procures from a pocket of his trenchcoat a tiny vial.
+ On the vial is a small strip of parchment which reads: He empties the vial into a glass of warm milk and hands it
+ to bread. “Drink up friend, this’ll relax and soothe you. You’ll
+ probably have the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had” Over the radio Alex provides a quick reminder to
+ Marvelo. “7, remember, should you need to wake bread to get us out
+ you can interrupt or cancel the sleep script, Ctrl + C should
+ work for the disruption work. Or if you need to you can set
+ sleepy=false, if it gets crazy and you need to modify the
+ metavarbalic properties of the enchantment.” Turning to Inky, “Eight bells and all’s well, lets get this
+ show on the road” Bread smiles and thanks you for the milk. They down the
+ glass, smack their lips a few times, and wipe their mouth with
+ the back of their hand. Their eyelids grow heavy and close,
+ and they slump down on the cushions. They’re already asleep by
+ the time their head hits the pillow. Inky nods once at Alex’s words and finishes off their own
+ cuppa steeped with calea and thyme, and blended into osmanthus
+ matcha. Lucida, Protege, Aware, Perfume. A meaningless
+ mantra. They glance to their owlish accomplice (who, she will
+ remind you, is well-trained and needs no sleeping aid, thank
+ you very much, unlike her impish charge) and silently mouth
+ the words “Dude 215R” with a wink. Then they settle for a nap,
+ chin pillowed on their forearms, which are propped atop
+ drawn-up knees. A walking stick rests on their lap. A herb
+ bouquet of pink blooms becomes an owl cushion. Inky dreamforms of a cream noogle. Puko. And Fuko is, well,
+ still Fuko. You light the Nyxmaer. The flame crackles and dances. It
+ smokes darkly, and the scent it gives off is thick and
+ heady. You breathe deeply of it and settle down to sleep. When you open your eyes you are standing on the branch of
+ an enormous white tree. It’s as wide as a narrow street. Its
+ leaves are silver blades that uncurl in the dappled light from
+ below. One of the first things you notice is that gravity is
+ reversed here. The branches below you reach down, grazing an
+ endless sky. Small iridescent jellyfish medusae drift lazily
+ far, far below, catching and reflecting the light. And the
+ trunk thickens as it reaches up overhead, where its roots
+ drill into the ceiling above. Because of dream logic, you know that in some way this tree
+ represents Kelsun Peak, Bread’s home. And also because of
+ dream logic, you know that the branches furthest away from you
+ in some way represent the great dragon Lucin who lives deep in
+ the mountain. And they are just as dangerous. They sway in the
+ breeze and seem to be aware of you, and are for now satisfied
+ at the distance you keep from them. There is a chipmunk sitting cross-legged before you on the
+ branch. It looks curiously up at you and says, “The Red
+ Squirrel stole my acorns! Are you going to get them back for
+ me?” You can feel a metaphysical tug in your gut as your orient
+ yourself to dreamspace like the needle of a compass. “Inward”
+ you can feel a tug toward Bread’s deep unconscious. To their
+ core memories. “Outward” you can feel a tug away from Bread
+ toward the shores of the Sea of Dreams, where you may continue
+ your journey through the Collective Unconsciousness to the
+ pocket dimension of the Wandering Bazaar. You need not move
+ physically to travel in either direction. It’s more a matter
+ of choosing a destination, and letting the winds blow you in
+ that direction. “My acorns!” insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. “The
+ Red Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help
+ me?” WHAT DO YOU DO Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is
+ definitely strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him
+ with his impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately
+ the same can’t be said for his roguish good looks, as he’s
+ found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he
+ remembers. Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment,
+ and he promptly moves on with assessing the situation. “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are
+ terrible at fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a
+ dreadfully important meeting across town.” turning to address
+ Inky, “We need to make a break for it, what’d the witch tell
+ you? Envision our goal or something? This is really a little
+ outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise..
+ unless..” Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a
+ terminal prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at
+ blinding speed at the digital window, a quick bypass there, a
+ root access escalation there. “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older
+ kernel, about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as
+ needed. Here I’m giving us sudo access, should we need
+ it.” “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns” It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he
+ corrects ‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to
+ the chipmunk instead of to the squirrel. Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It
+ squeals in delight. In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell
+ of what can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns
+ has just vanished. The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts
+ scooping up acorns by the armful and shoving them into its
+ mouth by the dozen. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it
+ says around a mouthful of nuts. “Here…” It tosses you a large
+ square silver coin with a round hole drilled in the center. On
+ one side is the number twenty-one next to a picture of a
+ curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the number
+ five and a picture of a flail. “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all
+ I have,” it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide
+ its nuts. Hopefully somewhere more secure this time. If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the
+ hole, you see the dreamscape before you as though looking
+ through a cloudy film. All the same stuff is there, but it’s
+ hazy and shadowy. Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out
+ of hailing distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes.
+ Dark shadows pool restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the
+ shadows leap up and take the form of demons the like of which
+ words cannot describe, before falling and returning to shadow
+ once more. The figure wears a large spherical helmet of
+ obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of a rainbow
+ of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet
+ like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel
+ sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels
+ a tug, a familiarity. Something about this character is
+ familiar to you, but you cannot place it. When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape
+ both disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted
+ landscape reappears but the figure is gone. You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather
+ intently from the branches below. WHAT DO YOU DO Marvelo fetched a fluffy blanket from the piles of blankets
+ and pillows in the ritual room where the dreamers continue to
+ sleep. He has wrapped up the child and is drying them off. The
+ sound of rain continues to drum incessantly outside. “Poor thing, you’re chilled to the bone. Don’t worry, Uncle
+ Marv will take care of you. There we go. Fix you right
+ up!” The child is still and silent. It has not made a noise this
+ whole time. Nor has it acted on its own to actually do
+ anything besides stare up at Marvelo with wide, dark eyes. “How did you end up outside by yourself in the rain, hmm?
+ No? That’s okay. What about your name? Have you got a
+ name?” “Rind,” says a voice behind Marvelo. At the sound of its
+ name, the child’s eyes flick over Marvelo’s shoulder. The
+ mercenary starts to spin around even as the blanket writhes in
+ his hands, wrapping itself around his wrists and binding them
+ tightly together. “Hungh!” he cries out wordlessly and tucks into a roll,
+ turning to face his assailant and—he hopes—dodging any
+ potential attack from behind. And also putting some distance
+ between himself and the child to get it out of harms way. Marvelo tries to push up to his knees as cords of rope
+ snake their way out of the shadows and coil around his knees
+ and elbows. He struggles to pull free of them. A thicker rope
+ wraps around his waist, and another squeezes around his chest
+ and back. The ropes contract and pull Marvelo into a ball. He
+ groans and falls to his side. He looks up into the eyes of a
+ man wearing a bright red sash. The child has tottled over to the man and reaches its arms
+ up. The man scoops the child up and holds it in the crook of
+ one arm. The child puts its arms around the man’s neck and
+ looks down at Marvelo while resting its cheek on the man’s
+ chest. “His name is Rind,” the man smiles. Feeling bedraggled yet dry despite having been submerged
+ under water, Inky lays on the beach, staring up at the sky
+ before sitting up and looking around the landscape. They are
+ now attired in a hooded azure blue vest over red shirt and
+ shorts, and blue shoes over mismatched knee-high stockings.
+ Their auburn hair is tied back with the drawstrings from an
+ attached small pouch. A plush toy resembling a certain floofy
+ duck peeks out from the hood. They sense a soft weight land on one shoulder, and smile as
+ Fuko nips at their ear, no doubt partly in reproach for
+ wandering off again without her, and maybe partly meant to be
+ reassuring. This is followed several moments later by a low
+ hiss and a series of light taps next to Inky’s ear with her
+ beak. Inky murmurs, “Is that so … we should call it a wrap
+ soon. Master Alex would probably be happy having Big Bother to
+ himself anyway, to grill as he likes.” After a very long minute, Inky sighs and taking out a piece
+ of paper and pencil from their suitcase, scribbles a
+ “pome”: They roll up the paper and tuck it into a small and clear
+ glass bottle with a cork stopper. Murmuring the sysorcerer’s
+ name to the bottle, they lower it into the water and watch as
+ the bottle drifts into the distance. Walking along the shoreline and stopping a short distance
+ from the lone figure, Inky says casually, “Good day, fellow
+ thing-finder.” The figure turns in your direction and lowers their hood
+ revealing a long, hooked, black beak and a face covered in
+ black feathers. Beady black eyes regard you without
+ blinking. The feathers around its throat bristle when it speaks like
+ a thick bristling beard. “Greetings, Dreamer, and welcome to Ephemeris, the Heart of
+ the Dreaming. What brings you to the Throne of Konsu?” Well Kasutva, I may as well trust you. I imagine if you
+ meant me harm there are more direct and interesting ways to
+ harm me than to misguide me. Give me a moment to collect
+ myself, I’ve never been much for swimming you see, learned
+ late and was always deathly afraid as a child. Dreadful stuff
+ really. Alex steps away briefly to the edge of the pier and looks
+ into the Azure blue ocean, a swirl of unending blue depth.
+ Still not my thing, Alex mutters to himself. As he steels
+ himself he notices a bottle adrift, nearing the pier. As it
+ comes closer, he plucks it from the water, decorks it and
+ inspects the note inside. “What does it say” the little Kasutva inquires. “Oh nothing, just someone trying to get in contact about
+ our floating pirateships extended warranty” Alex replies
+ bruskly. This definitely must have come from Inky Alex thinks
+ to himself. They must have found the way. “Look Kasutva, this has been great fun, but I really think
+ I ought to be going, not really sure that a sea of anyones
+ dreams is my sort of thing and all that. And I seem ot have
+ done not but create a mess of things” Alex says as he gestures
+ to the wreckage of the Mech. Alex gestures in the air before
+ him, a small split keyboard appears in front of him and he
+ types out a few short commands. “Right!” Alex exclaims startling the little Kasutva
+ accidentally. “Time for me to head back to the real world.
+ Anything you need from me before I head out? Oh also, can I
+ take the ak74u? I think I might need it.” “Back … back to the waking world?” Mushroom Kasutva
+ stammers. “But…” It looks out at the sea with a look of longing, confusion,
+ and frustration. “But we were finally going to see Ephemeris,”
+ they say almost wistfully. “You were going to take us to Ephemeris!” they shout at
+ you, suddenly angry. Mushroom Kasutva screws up its face and roars in rage as it
+ rushes at you and tries to shove you over the edge of the pier
+ into the waters below. But Kasutva is less than a foot tall and quite ineffective
+ at shoving a human-sized person such as Alex. Big Kasutva, on the otherhand, is roughly twelve feet tall
+ and quite capable of manhandling a human-sized person. You look up in time to jerk back out of the way as they
+ swipe at your chest with their face-removing knife. It was all
+ a feint though. As soon as you are slightly off balance from
+ dodging their attack, they reach out with their other hand and
+ give you a shove. You trip over Mushroom Kasutva, who has positioned themself
+ in just such a way to best tangle up your feet. You stumble
+ backwards a few steps until one of your feet steps out into
+ open air. You twist and and look behind you as Ousia rises up
+ to meet you. Kasutva clings to your leg as you fall, crying. “We’re
+ sorry. We’re sorry,” they say over and over as you are pulled
+ below the waves. WHAT DO YOU DO Once back in the Milk Bar, with the airship safely anchored
- to the roof of the building, Alex finds himself amongst the
- old belongings of his former uncle. sigh “Best get a request to HQ for this airship,
- maybe they’ll let us operate it for a bit, if not I suppose we
- have to impound it..” “There’s also the matter of this little hemogoblin..” Alex
- mutters to himself while said hemogoblin happily dances around
- the room, dripping little pools of blood hither and
- tither. “Hey little guy, lets go get an empanade. Inky says they’re
- divine.” Alex says as he scoops up the little goblin and
- gently carries him downstairs.” Striding into Enriques kitchen, and availing himself to the
- empanadas, ignoring an indignant Enrique’s protests that these
- were for paying customers until a small bag of coins is tossed
- careless over one shoulder. Alex stride through the kitchen
- and then out and away into the garden to enjoy their pilfered
- treats. “I suppose this is more interesting than being on the force
- at times” ~ Inky stepped into the toques’ cabin below deck with a tray
- of turmeric ginger tea and lavender biscuits. After checking
- on Bread’s bandages and offering the toque reclined on the
- berth the last bag of mango croutons — or at least the last
- one for the next two hours — Inky perched on a wooden barrel
- across from where Confidence sat on a creaking old chair next
- to the bunk and spoke. “We’ll be landing in about an hour and
- getting Bread to a medical facility. You can stay with him
- while he heals and rest up.” They paused to take a long sip from their cup, as if the
- liquid was being used to summon their next words. “On behalf
- of myself and the party, I apologise for the … disruption, and
- for what had befallen the hotelier. As you may have already
- noticed, we’re a fair distance away from the Peak and will be
- arriving in Vay’Nullar soon. This airship was taken over from
- the cyberplasms in the course of getting the crystal out and
- the injured to a safe location, and her new captain could
- hardly fly it back straight into the pirates’ hands now. What we propose is this: you and Bread may take as long as
- you need to recover. We can arrange for lodgings and new posts
- in the city. One of our party runs a Milk Market that could
- certainly use some hired help, and a garden in the back that
- would benefit from more attention. Pay will be double your
- current salary at the hotel. Master Alex may also recruit you
- for other tasks. You don’t need to have an answer just yet —
- think on it for a bit while you rest and let us know.
- Afterwards, if you find that you still wish to return to
- Kelsun Peak, we will pay for travel.” Inky winked at Bread conspiratorially. “You may be
- interested to know there is a bakery on the Milk Market’s
- first floor. If you like the look of the place, perhaps we can
- convince the chef to take on an assistant.” ~ Tess watched her adviser from her position on one end of
- the plush chaise lounge in her office, who returned her stare
- impassively as they sat in the adjoining armchair to her
- right. The ornate coffee table before them had been laid out
- for tea, but the other cup remained untouched, which was in
- itself unusual. Ink rarely turned down tea when it was
- offered, which likely meant they were preoccupied with
- something they were unwilling to discuss. This had been
- happening more frequently since their plans to intercept the
- Ginnarak Crystals, which was a little concerning, but she knew
- it would be no use to question them directly. The missive she
- had received this time through Piskin’s people was brief,
- almost annoyingly so, but they had returned earlier than
- expected with the articles that production had requested,
- which had fortunately made up for lost time from the previous
- delays. With this in mind, she settled on a lighter note as she
- picked up her own teacup. “Salvia passed on the items to the
- production team. Thank you for picking them up from the
- Runesocesius. I would send my regular couriers but they are
- tied up with another event. One of them had to care for their
- sick child and couldn’t leave the city. As usual, time and
- discretion are of the essence.” When her adviser only nodded, she continued. “How is he? He
- probably insisted on bringing the manuscripts out for you
- himself. The man is cautious with valuables.” “Quite dead but managing, or so I heard.” Ink intoned
- drily. Tess caught on immediately. “Didn’t you meet with him? The
- message only mentioned the items had been obtained. Did
- something happen?” The imp shrugged. “We met, I delivered the letter and
- collected the items. We didn’t get a chance to talk.” The hotel was slowly but steadily attracting visitors
- again, especially after their last play had prominently
- featured the Runesocesius Library as a research partner in the
- programme credits, but Tess didn’t think the hotelier was so
- busy as to entrust this task to one of his underlings. The man
- was proud of the first editions the library had amassed, and
- the notebooks of Lucidieau that the playwright sought as a
- reference were no doubt counted among the treasures, even if
- only an expensive commissioned facsimile was permitted out of
- the library. Something had happened, she was sure, but decided
- not to press further for the moment. “And the other matter?” she asked. “Someone already knew the crystal was at the hotel and
- retained a crew of cyberplasmic pirates to storm the place.”
- Ink replied flatly. “And yes, your acquaintance is very much
- dead, shot by the crew leader in the scuffle. As the rumour
- rags have it, his ghost is now overseeing the building
- repairs.” Tess was about to admonish the imp gently for the tasteless
- jest when there was a knock at the door. At her response, the
- door opened and her secretary entered with a box of pastries
- and two sets of tableware, which she placed on the coffee
- table before leaving and closing the door behind her. Noticing Ink’s look of recognition, Tess smiled and
- ventured, “This is the second time is as many months you
- awarded that empanada place a glowing review in The Tiny
- Toaster. I can count the ratings higher than a 10 you’ve
- ever given on one hand — of course I had to try it. Why don’t
- you have some as well?” Ink blinked. “I didn’t write the latest review.” Tess shot them an accusing mock-glare as she lifted a puffy
- golden brown pastry onto a plate. “It has your inkprints all
- over it.” “I don’t know what you mean. Surely I’m allowed to treat a
- colleague to lunch, and they are free to express their
- satisfaction with a meal openly if they wish,” Ink replied
- smoothly. Tess rolled her eyes. “There’s a name for that. It’s called
- bribery.” Ink smiled faintly. “Just so. However, the selection speaks
- for itself.” “Oh, absolutely! These mini ambrose apple empanadas are
- wonderful. In fact,” Tess prodded the open end of the pastry
- with her fork, where a light yellow filling was visible, “they
- remind me a little of the very crispy tortelli
- someone made several years ago just for the opening
- reception of The Two Genteelkin of Virdantha.” “Any resemblance is coincidental. The chef is very
- capable.” Ink said evenly. Tess sighed and returned her plate to the table. “We’ve
- talked about this before, Ink. You don’t have to hole up in
- some poor scrub’s excuse for a kitchen in a closet. If you
- need more room downstairs then expand it. Just tell Salvia and
- she’ll take care of it.” Ink lowered their gaze to the teacups. “I appreciate the
- offer, but the answer is the same. There will be no rest until
- the crystals are secured.” Some time passes. The hemogoblin turns out to be a fine housemate and less of
- a problem than you thought it would be. Be it because its not
- in the excitement of battle onboard a pirate ship, or be it
- because it is maturing slightly, it seems in better control of
- its blood sacs. Barring a few small accidents, it doesn’t make
- much of a mess. It has found and claimed as its own a few
- unused blankets, and has made a little burrow nest in an out
- of the way corner behind the furniture. Bread makes a full recovery and in fact is doing better
- than ever before. The blood goblin stays by their side during
- the first hours and days and keeps them pumped full of clean,
- synthetic blood. Afterwards the toque is flushed a healthy
- pink and has new vigor. Enrique takes them under his tutelage.
- And Bread ends up making a fine baker’s apprentice. Dough
- seems to rise more and quicker after he kneads it. “The lad
- has solar hands,” Enrique boasts of his new protegee. Confidence becomes enthralled with the semi-sentient
- Wandering Bazaar. The thirteen story building moves with
- glacial speed up and down the streets, vendors and stalls and
- shoppers following in its wake. But then also it will
- disappear in the blink of an eye only to reappear in a totally
- different part of the area known as the Wandering Bazaar
- District. Each floor of the tall, narrow tower is occupied
- entirely by a single shop. But which shop it is seems to vary
- from day to day. One day the seventh level will be occupied by
- Fedik’s Butcher shop. And the next, Lario’s Bakery. It might
- be days or weeks before one can once again buy hotlinks from
- Fedik’s. Where the shops go when they’re not here is one of
- Basmentaria’s great mysteries. The toque studies the Bazaar’s movements and are able to
- predict its route with more and more accuracy. They become a
- highly sought out guide. Tourists and visitors trust them to
- take them to the very spot the Bazaar will appear that day.
- Residents appreciate the heads up and not getting trapped in
- their houses when the Bazaar wedges its way into their narrow
- residential streets, blocking their front doors. And owners of
- traditional, less ambulatory shops are able to plan ahead for
- the crowds that will appear on “Bazaar Day”. ~ Members of the Retrieval Team who sleep in Milk Market HQ
- start having dreams of the same mysterious figure. Of course
- at first nobody knows their dreams are shared by the others.
- Not until they become more frequent, more regular. By the time
- the figure has visited you every night for nearly a week,
- somebody speaks up and you realize the coincidence. The figure is clad in voluminous robes of deep purple.
- Long, straight, blonde hair falls around their shoulders.
- Their soft features are boyish and womanly. They wear a golden
- circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their
- forehead. Their passive, neutral face betrays no emotion the
- entire time. The dream is always the same. They reach out to you with
- one hand and turn their palm up. And because of dream logic,
- in the palm of their hand you can hear the jingling of coins,
- mirthful laughter, and hushed stories told around a campfire.
- They curl their fingers into a loose first and the sounds
- stop. They spread their arms wide and in the folds of their
- robes you can see three siblings fighting, squabbling over a
- broken loom. Then you’re standing next to them, and the two of you watch
- three friends, Snake, Owl, and Dolphin. Owl tells Snake that
- he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t want to be an
- owl any more, he wants to be flowers. And Snake laughs and
- tells him that he is Owl, and an owl he must remain. And she
- leaves him to go eat rodents and bake in the sun. So Owl tells
- Dolphin that he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t
- want to be an owl any more, he wants to be flowers. Dolphin
- doesn’t want to help Owl, because if he is flowers, they won’t
- be able to be together any longer. But Dolphin finally agrees
- to help even though they don’t want to, because Dolphin loves
- Owl. With all their strength, they create a great waterspout
- that will turn Owl into flowers. But the waterspout is too
- strong, and Dolphin is too weak to control it. It sprays Owl
- but does not turn him into flowers. Owl’s wing is broken and
- he falls to the ground in a heap of feathers. The waterspout
- shakes a great boulder from the earth and traps Snake under
- it. And Dolphin sinks to the bottom of the sea. And then you wake up. ~ Later you find a letter in the common area of Milk Market
- HQ. It is not addressed to anybody. When you open it up, it
- reads: Time is running out, Retrieval Team 43. Things are starting
- to draw to a close. We cannot delay our meeting any longer if
- we both are to achieve our goals. We have information that you
- are looking for. Meet us at the Harpoon Club next Selday. We
- will wear the sign. The letter is signed with a white iris and golden
- apple. Anyone in Vay’Nullar would be able to tell you that the
- Harpoon Club is a game room and fine dining club, and one of
- the rotating tenants of the Wandering Bazaar. But Confidence
- would tell you, were you to ask them, that the club won’t be
- there next Selday. (When the Bazaar will appear at East and
- Lowland.) It is in fact not scheduled to appear until a week
- and a half after next Selday, on Third Tensday. (When the
- Bazaar will appear at Cathedral and Pine.) WHAT DO YOU DO Marvelo fetched a fluffy blanket from the piles of blankets
- and pillows in the ritual room where the dreamers continue to
- sleep. He has wrapped up the child and is drying them off. The
- sound of rain continues to drum incessantly outside. “Poor thing, you’re chilled to the bone. Don’t worry, Uncle
- Marv will take care of you. There we go. Fix you right
- up!” The child is still and silent. It has not made a noise this
- whole time. Nor has it acted on its own to actually do
- anything besides stare up at Marvelo with wide, dark eyes. “How did you end up outside by yourself in the rain, hmm?
- No? That’s okay. What about your name? Have you got a
- name?” “Rind,” says a voice behind Marvelo. At the sound of its
- name, the child’s eyes flick over Marvelo’s shoulder. The
- mercenary starts to spin around even as the blanket writhes in
- his hands, wrapping itself around his wrists and binding them
- tightly together. “Hungh!” he cries out wordlessly and tucks into a roll,
- turning to face his assailant and—he hopes—dodging any
- potential attack from behind. And also putting some distance
- between himself and the child to get it out of harms way. Marvelo tries to push up to his knees as cords of rope
- snake their way out of the shadows and coil around his knees
- and elbows. He struggles to pull free of them. A thicker rope
- wraps around his waist, and another squeezes around his chest
- and back. The ropes contract and pull Marvelo into a ball. He
- groans and falls to his side. He looks up into the eyes of a
- man wearing a bright red sash. The child has tottled over to the man and reaches its arms
- up. The man scoops the child up and holds it in the crook of
- one arm. The child puts its arms around the man’s neck and
- looks down at Marvelo while resting its cheek on the man’s
- chest. “His name is Rind,” the man smiles. Feeling bedraggled yet dry despite having been submerged
- under water, Inky lays on the beach, staring up at the sky
- before sitting up and looking around the landscape. They are
- now attired in a hooded azure blue vest over red shirt and
- shorts, and blue shoes over mismatched knee-high stockings.
- Their auburn hair is tied back with the drawstrings from an
- attached small pouch. A plush toy resembling a certain floofy
- duck peeks out from the hood. They sense a soft weight land on one shoulder, and smile as
- Fuko nips at their ear, no doubt partly in reproach for
- wandering off again without her, and maybe partly meant to be
- reassuring. This is followed several moments later by a low
- hiss and a series of light taps next to Inky’s ear with her
- beak. Inky murmurs, “Is that so … we should call it a wrap
- soon. Master Alex would probably be happy having Big Bother to
- himself anyway, to grill as he likes.” After a very long minute, Inky sighs and taking out a piece
- of paper and pencil from their suitcase, scribbles a
- “pome”: They roll up the paper and tuck it into a small and clear
- glass bottle with a cork stopper. Murmuring the sysorcerer’s
- name to the bottle, they lower it into the water and watch as
- the bottle drifts into the distance. Walking along the shoreline and stopping a short distance
- from the lone figure, Inky says casually, “Good day, fellow
- thing-finder.” The figure turns in your direction and lowers their hood
- revealing a long, hooked, black beak and a face covered in
- black feathers. Beady black eyes regard you without
- blinking. The feathers around its throat bristle when it speaks like
- a thick bristling beard. “Greetings, Dreamer, and welcome to Ephemeris, the Heart of
- the Dreaming. What brings you to the Throne of Konsu?” Well Kasutva, I may as well trust you. I imagine if you
- meant me harm there are more direct and interesting ways to
- harm me than to misguide me. Give me a moment to collect
- myself, I’ve never been much for swimming you see, learned
- late and was always deathly afraid as a child. Dreadful stuff
- really. Alex steps away briefly to the edge of the pier and looks
- into the Azure blue ocean, a swirl of unending blue depth.
- Still not my thing, Alex mutters to himself. As he steels
- himself he notices a bottle adrift, nearing the pier. As it
- comes closer, he plucks it from the water, decorks it and
- inspects the note inside. “What does it say” the little Kasutva inquires. “Oh nothing, just someone trying to get in contact about
- our floating pirateships extended warranty” Alex replies
- bruskly. This definitely must have come from Inky Alex thinks
- to himself. They must have found the way. “Look Kasutva, this has been great fun, but I really think
- I ought to be going, not really sure that a sea of anyones
- dreams is my sort of thing and all that. And I seem ot have
- done not but create a mess of things” Alex says as he gestures
- to the wreckage of the Mech. Alex gestures in the air before
- him, a small split keyboard appears in front of him and he
- types out a few short commands. “Right!” Alex exclaims startling the little Kasutva
- accidentally. “Time for me to head back to the real world.
- Anything you need from me before I head out? Oh also, can I
- take the ak74u? I think I might need it.” “Back … back to the waking world?” Mushroom Kasutva
- stammers. “But…” It looks out at the sea with a look of longing, confusion,
- and frustration. “But we were finally going to see Ephemeris,”
- they say almost wistfully. “You were going to take us to Ephemeris!” they shout at
- you, suddenly angry. Mushroom Kasutva screws up its face and roars in rage as it
- rushes at you and tries to shove you over the edge of the pier
- into the waters below. But Kasutva is less than a foot tall and quite ineffective
- at shoving a human-sized person such as Alex. Big Kasutva, on the otherhand, is roughly twelve feet tall
- and quite capable of manhandling a human-sized person. You look up in time to jerk back out of the way as they
- swipe at your chest with their face-removing knife. It was all
- a feint though. As soon as you are slightly off balance from
- dodging their attack, they reach out with their other hand and
- give you a shove. You trip over Mushroom Kasutva, who has positioned themself
- in just such a way to best tangle up your feet. You stumble
- backwards a few steps until one of your feet steps out into
- open air. You twist and and look behind you as Ousia rises up
- to meet you. Kasutva clings to your leg as you fall, crying. “We’re
- sorry. We’re sorry,” they say over and over as you are pulled
- below the waves. WHAT DO YOU DO Once back in the Milk Bar, with the airship safely anchored
+ to the roof of the building, Alex finds himself amongst the
+ old belongings of his former uncle. sigh “Best get a request to HQ for this airship,
+ maybe they’ll let us operate it for a bit, if not I suppose we
+ have to impound it..” “There’s also the matter of this little hemogoblin..” Alex
+ mutters to himself while said hemogoblin happily dances around
+ the room, dripping little pools of blood hither and
+ tither. “Hey little guy, lets go get an empanade. Inky says they’re
+ divine.” Alex says as he scoops up the little goblin and
+ gently carries him downstairs.” Striding into Enriques kitchen, and availing himself to the
+ empanadas, ignoring an indignant Enrique’s protests that these
+ were for paying customers until a small bag of coins is tossed
+ careless over one shoulder. Alex stride through the kitchen
+ and then out and away into the garden to enjoy their pilfered
+ treats. “I suppose this is more interesting than being on the force
+ at times” ~ Inky stepped into the toques’ cabin below deck with a tray
+ of turmeric ginger tea and lavender biscuits. After checking
+ on Bread’s bandages and offering the toque reclined on the
+ berth the last bag of mango croutons — or at least the last
+ one for the next two hours — Inky perched on a wooden barrel
+ across from where Confidence sat on a creaking old chair next
+ to the bunk and spoke. “We’ll be landing in about an hour and
+ getting Bread to a medical facility. You can stay with him
+ while he heals and rest up.” They paused to take a long sip from their cup, as if the
+ liquid was being used to summon their next words. “On behalf
+ of myself and the party, I apologise for the … disruption, and
+ for what had befallen the hotelier. As you may have already
+ noticed, we’re a fair distance away from the Peak and will be
+ arriving in Vay’Nullar soon. This airship was taken over from
+ the cyberplasms in the course of getting the crystal out and
+ the injured to a safe location, and her new captain could
+ hardly fly it back straight into the pirates’ hands now. What we propose is this: you and Bread may take as long as
+ you need to recover. We can arrange for lodgings and new posts
+ in the city. One of our party runs a Milk Market that could
+ certainly use some hired help, and a garden in the back that
+ would benefit from more attention. Pay will be double your
+ current salary at the hotel. Master Alex may also recruit you
+ for other tasks. You don’t need to have an answer just yet —
+ think on it for a bit while you rest and let us know.
+ Afterwards, if you find that you still wish to return to
+ Kelsun Peak, we will pay for travel.” Inky winked at Bread conspiratorially. “You may be
+ interested to know there is a bakery on the Milk Market’s
+ first floor. If you like the look of the place, perhaps we can
+ convince the chef to take on an assistant.” ~ Tess watched her adviser from her position on one end of
+ the plush chaise lounge in her office, who returned her stare
+ impassively as they sat in the adjoining armchair to her
+ right. The ornate coffee table before them had been laid out
+ for tea, but the other cup remained untouched, which was in
+ itself unusual. Ink rarely turned down tea when it was
+ offered, which likely meant they were preoccupied with
+ something they were unwilling to discuss. This had been
+ happening more frequently since their plans to intercept the
+ Ginnarak Crystals, which was a little concerning, but she knew
+ it would be no use to question them directly. The missive she
+ had received this time through Piskin’s people was brief,
+ almost annoyingly so, but they had returned earlier than
+ expected with the articles that production had requested,
+ which had fortunately made up for lost time from the previous
+ delays. With this in mind, she settled on a lighter note as she
+ picked up her own teacup. “Salvia passed on the items to the
+ production team. Thank you for picking them up from the
+ Runesocesius. I would send my regular couriers but they are
+ tied up with another event. One of them had to care for their
+ sick child and couldn’t leave the city. As usual, time and
+ discretion are of the essence.” When her adviser only nodded, she continued. “How is he? He
+ probably insisted on bringing the manuscripts out for you
+ himself. The man is cautious with valuables.” “Quite dead but managing, or so I heard.” Ink intoned
+ drily. Tess caught on immediately. “Didn’t you meet with him? The
+ message only mentioned the items had been obtained. Did
+ something happen?” The imp shrugged. “We met, I delivered the letter and
+ collected the items. We didn’t get a chance to talk.” The hotel was slowly but steadily attracting visitors
+ again, especially after their last play had prominently
+ featured the Runesocesius Library as a research partner in the
+ programme credits, but Tess didn’t think the hotelier was so
+ busy as to entrust this task to one of his underlings. The man
+ was proud of the first editions the library had amassed, and
+ the notebooks of Lucidieau that the playwright sought as a
+ reference were no doubt counted among the treasures, even if
+ only an expensive commissioned facsimile was permitted out of
+ the library. Something had happened, she was sure, but decided
+ not to press further for the moment. “And the other matter?” she asked. “Someone already knew the crystal was at the hotel and
+ retained a crew of cyberplasmic pirates to storm the place.”
+ Ink replied flatly. “And yes, your acquaintance is very much
+ dead, shot by the crew leader in the scuffle. As the rumour
+ rags have it, his ghost is now overseeing the building
+ repairs.” Tess was about to admonish the imp gently for the tasteless
+ jest when there was a knock at the door. At her response, the
+ door opened and her secretary entered with a box of pastries
+ and two sets of tableware, which she placed on the coffee
+ table before leaving and closing the door behind her. Noticing Ink’s look of recognition, Tess smiled and
+ ventured, “This is the second time is as many months you
+ awarded that empanada place a glowing review in The Tiny
+ Toaster. I can count the ratings higher than a 10 you’ve
+ ever given on one hand — of course I had to try it. Why don’t
+ you have some as well?” Ink blinked. “I didn’t write the latest review.” Tess shot them an accusing mock-glare as she lifted a puffy
+ golden brown pastry onto a plate. “It has your inkprints all
+ over it.” “I don’t know what you mean. Surely I’m allowed to treat a
+ colleague to lunch, and they are free to express their
+ satisfaction with a meal openly if they wish,” Ink replied
+ smoothly. Tess rolled her eyes. “There’s a name for that. It’s called
+ bribery.” Ink smiled faintly. “Just so. However, the selection speaks
+ for itself.” “Oh, absolutely! These mini ambrose apple empanadas are
+ wonderful. In fact,” Tess prodded the open end of the pastry
+ with her fork, where a light yellow filling was visible, “they
+ remind me a little of the very crispy tortelli
+ someone made several years ago just for the opening
+ reception of The Two Genteelkin of Virdantha.” “Any resemblance is coincidental. The chef is very
+ capable.” Ink said evenly. Tess sighed and returned her plate to the table. “We’ve
+ talked about this before, Ink. You don’t have to hole up in
+ some poor scrub’s excuse for a kitchen in a closet. If you
+ need more room downstairs then expand it. Just tell Salvia and
+ she’ll take care of it.” Ink lowered their gaze to the teacups. “I appreciate the
+ offer, but the answer is the same. There will be no rest until
+ the crystals are secured.” Some time passes. The hemogoblin turns out to be a fine housemate and less of
+ a problem than you thought it would be. Be it because its not
+ in the excitement of battle onboard a pirate ship, or be it
+ because it is maturing slightly, it seems in better control of
+ its blood sacs. Barring a few small accidents, it doesn’t make
+ much of a mess. It has found and claimed as its own a few
+ unused blankets, and has made a little burrow nest in an out
+ of the way corner behind the furniture. Bread makes a full recovery and in fact is doing better
+ than ever before. The blood goblin stays by their side during
+ the first hours and days and keeps them pumped full of clean,
+ synthetic blood. Afterwards the toque is flushed a healthy
+ pink and has new vigor. Enrique takes them under his tutelage.
+ And Bread ends up making a fine baker’s apprentice. Dough
+ seems to rise more and quicker after he kneads it. “The lad
+ has solar hands,” Enrique boasts of his new protegee. Confidence becomes enthralled with the semi-sentient
+ Wandering Bazaar. The thirteen story building moves with
+ glacial speed up and down the streets, vendors and stalls and
+ shoppers following in its wake. But then also it will
+ disappear in the blink of an eye only to reappear in a totally
+ different part of the area known as the Wandering Bazaar
+ District. Each floor of the tall, narrow tower is occupied
+ entirely by a single shop. But which shop it is seems to vary
+ from day to day. One day the seventh level will be occupied by
+ Fedik’s Butcher shop. And the next, Lario’s Bakery. It might
+ be days or weeks before one can once again buy hotlinks from
+ Fedik’s. Where the shops go when they’re not here is one of
+ Basmentaria’s great mysteries. The toque studies the Bazaar’s movements and are able to
+ predict its route with more and more accuracy. They become a
+ highly sought out guide. Tourists and visitors trust them to
+ take them to the very spot the Bazaar will appear that day.
+ Residents appreciate the heads up and not getting trapped in
+ their houses when the Bazaar wedges its way into their narrow
+ residential streets, blocking their front doors. And owners of
+ traditional, less ambulatory shops are able to plan ahead for
+ the crowds that will appear on “Bazaar Day”. ~ Members of the Retrieval Team who sleep in Milk Market HQ
+ start having dreams of the same mysterious figure. Of course
+ at first nobody knows their dreams are shared by the others.
+ Not until they become more frequent, more regular. By the time
+ the figure has visited you every night for nearly a week,
+ somebody speaks up and you realize the coincidence. The figure is clad in voluminous robes of deep purple.
+ Long, straight, blonde hair falls around their shoulders.
+ Their soft features are boyish and womanly. They wear a golden
+ circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their
+ forehead. Their passive, neutral face betrays no emotion the
+ entire time. The dream is always the same. They reach out to you with
+ one hand and turn their palm up. And because of dream logic,
+ in the palm of their hand you can hear the jingling of coins,
+ mirthful laughter, and hushed stories told around a campfire.
+ They curl their fingers into a loose first and the sounds
+ stop. They spread their arms wide and in the folds of their
+ robes you can see three siblings fighting, squabbling over a
+ broken loom. Then you’re standing next to them, and the two of you watch
+ three friends, Snake, Owl, and Dolphin. Owl tells Snake that
+ he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t want to be an
+ owl any more, he wants to be flowers. And Snake laughs and
+ tells him that he is Owl, and an owl he must remain. And she
+ leaves him to go eat rodents and bake in the sun. So Owl tells
+ Dolphin that he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t
+ want to be an owl any more, he wants to be flowers. Dolphin
+ doesn’t want to help Owl, because if he is flowers, they won’t
+ be able to be together any longer. But Dolphin finally agrees
+ to help even though they don’t want to, because Dolphin loves
+ Owl. With all their strength, they create a great waterspout
+ that will turn Owl into flowers. But the waterspout is too
+ strong, and Dolphin is too weak to control it. It sprays Owl
+ but does not turn him into flowers. Owl’s wing is broken and
+ he falls to the ground in a heap of feathers. The waterspout
+ shakes a great boulder from the earth and traps Snake under
+ it. And Dolphin sinks to the bottom of the sea. And then you wake up. ~ Later you find a letter in the common area of Milk Market
+ HQ. It is not addressed to anybody. When you open it up, it
+ reads: Time is running out, Retrieval Team 43. Things are starting
+ to draw to a close. We cannot delay our meeting any longer if
+ we both are to achieve our goals. We have information that you
+ are looking for. Meet us at the Harpoon Club next Selday. We
+ will wear the sign. The letter is signed with a white iris and golden
+ apple. Anyone in Vay’Nullar would be able to tell you that the
+ Harpoon Club is a game room and fine dining club, and one of
+ the rotating tenants of the Wandering Bazaar. But Confidence
+ would tell you, were you to ask them, that the club won’t be
+ there next Selday. (When the Bazaar will appear at East and
+ Lowland.) It is in fact not scheduled to appear until a week
+ and a half after next Selday, on Third Tensday. (When the
+ Bazaar will appear at Cathedral and Pine.) WHAT DO YOU DO00066
+
+
+
+
+Afterword
-
-
-
-
-
-
- #!/bin/ash
-sleepy=true
-
-sleep() {
- while sleepy; do
- sleep(10)
- done
-}
-
-trap sleep INT EXIT
-
- 00063
-
-
+ find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
+
+
-
-
-
-
- 4 -> 3
-Daylight breaks on the morrow
-The suns rays make chase
-casting soft cloth
-across the nap of nature's neck
-
-So, night relents and gives way
-biding time until
-it can rule
-in its own domain
-
-
-
- ]]>
-
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ 4 -> 3
+Daylight breaks on the morrow
+The suns rays make chase
+casting soft cloth
+across the nap of nature's neck
+
+So, night relents and gives way
+biding time until
+it can rule
+in its own domain
+
+
+
+ ]]>
+
+
+
+ #!/bin/ash
+sleepy=true
+
+sleep() {
+ while sleepy; do
+ sleep(10)
+ done
+}
+
+trap sleep INT EXIT
+
+
+
+
+ find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
+
+
+ Island tower of towers
+Nowhere everywhere the sea
+Keep your apples and flowers
+Your suitor has come for thee
+
+
+
+
+ cat > /home/inky/messages/urgent <<EOF
+Got your message
+In a bit of a bind, wrapped up with some weird mushroom guy who wants to go for a swim.
+Not sure how to handle it, but I might have to dip back to the real world and let you finish here.
+I've made a write mess of things, but I trust you can finish this.
+
+Oh, see attached, if you get into a pinch just use this spell, it'll get you what you need.
+
+grep -A4 AID ~/messages/urgent | sed 's/AID//' | sh
+
+AID
+4b1af3fcf4ce005ef86d83c45713ba1a548b4e79da09a6d44632cdb6c5917489
+d7d500fa37b986d931b70e114b4e67375b10b373aa6649641e7132e8b3dc7d18
+ef6efe98ffd070f486c00b4f50d8bf1448414ef9c2fabe0cacd40bebafba8a02
+1d0d1bf0188b842d9ae08b9b37b0f266936ef38b8f07e5c90e4a9351bf018898
+EOF
-
-
- <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
--> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
-
-CLEARANCE: INFORMATIONAL
-REQUEST ENCLOSED.
-
-REQUESTING PERMISSION TO IMPOUND OR OPERATE.
-ONE CYBERPLASM AIRSHIP "The Rusty Maiden"
- <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
--> OP 41154 * LOC ESPER
-
-CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET
-REQUEST ENCLOSED
-PACKET ENCLOSED
-
-REQUESTING ANALYSIS
-ONE GDB @gdb-readout.dat
-TWO BLOOD @blood-soaked-handkerchief
-NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY
-
-
-
-
-
-
- Island tower of towers
-Nowhere everywhere the sea
-Keep your apples and flowers
-Your suitor has come for thee
-
-
-
-
- cat > /home/inky/messages/urgent <<EOF
-Got your message
-In a bit of a bind, wrapped up with some weird mushroom guy who wants to go for a swim.
-Not sure how to handle it, but I might have to dip back to the real world and let you finish here.
-I've made a write mess of things, but I trust you can finish this.
-
-Oh, see attached, if you get into a pinch just use this spell, it'll get you what you need.
-
-grep -A4 AID ~/messages/urgent | sed 's/AID//' | sh
-
-AID
-4b1af3fcf4ce005ef86d83c45713ba1a548b4e79da09a6d44632cdb6c5917489
-d7d500fa37b986d931b70e114b4e67375b10b373aa6649641e7132e8b3dc7d18
-ef6efe98ffd070f486c00b4f50d8bf1448414ef9c2fabe0cacd40bebafba8a02
-1d0d1bf0188b842d9ae08b9b37b0f266936ef38b8f07e5c90e4a9351bf018898
-EOF
+
+
+ <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
+-> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
+
+CLEARANCE: INFORMATIONAL
+REQUEST ENCLOSED.
+
+REQUESTING PERMISSION TO IMPOUND OR OPERATE.
+ONE CYBERPLASM AIRSHIP "The Rusty Maiden"
+ <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
+-> OP 41154 * LOC ESPER
+
+CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET
+REQUEST ENCLOSED
+PACKET ENCLOSED
+
+REQUESTING ANALYSIS
+ONE GDB @gdb-readout.dat
+TWO BLOOD @blood-soaked-handkerchief
+NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY
+
+
+
+
Total length: 83975 words / 358 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +
Total length: 85483 words / 365 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)
-There have been 226 messages posted over 228 days since the first +
There have been 228 messages posted over 229 days since the first post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .99.
This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.
@@ -6996,6 +6997,158 @@ look behind you as Ousia rises up to meet you.Kasutva clings to your leg as you fall, crying. “We’re sorry. We’re sorry,” they say over and over as you are pulled below the waves.
WHAT DO YOU DO
+++“Thank you. May your search brings you good tidings.” Inky replies +with a smile and nod towards the sea.
+“As to what brings me here, another traveller and myself have been +summoned to the Harpoon Club at a Wandering Bazaar. However, despite +uncovering the occasional biscuit tin or cotton candy wheel, my knack +for thing-finding doesn’t really extend to sentient bazaars in pocket +dimensions.” Inky chuckles wryly. “Might you happen to know the +way?”
+As they end their question, Inky slips their hands into the pockets +of their hooded vest and is met with an envelope nestled within one of +them. A message from Master Alex. The packet is a bit lumpy to the +touch, as though there is a small round object inside. The sysorcerer +may have decided to spend some quality time with his stalker after all. +Must be lovely to have a dedicated fan. The two wouldn’t mind if Inky +went on a spot of sightseeing.
+“Also, did you say the Throne of Konsu?” They glance in the direction +of the large tower and back to the figure before them.
+
“Ah, you don’t know the story of Lord Konsu?” The ravenfolk beckons +you to walk with him as you talk. “In the beginning, nobody knew how to +dream. There were no real people then. Just beasts and +creatures and horrors.
+“So at that point, every creature visited Ousia only twice: at the +moment of birth, and at the moment of death. And all the time in between +was spent longing to return to the sea.”
+At the ravenfolk’s side, the world spins under your feet. In mere +steps, you have made it to the base of the mountain jutting from the +center of the island.
+“And one day, Konsu did. He dreamed. He was the first. Each night he +returned to the sea, and it swallowed his madness and his wildness. It +evolved his mind. It is dreaming, you see, that makes you human.
+“The sea claims everything though eventually. But you know this +already. You crossed the sea. Surely you saw how it can work on dreamers +who have tarried here too long.”
+Still the ravenfolk guides you onward until you arrive at the base of +the fractal tower, all purple and yellow stones.
+You step inside and find voluminous halls, walls lined with statues +of all subjects. Fawns in revelry, elegant women in repose, terrible +giants in agony, warriors standing at attention, leaping fish, and +roaring lions.
+He leads you through a labyrinth of empty halls, up grand stairs, +across yawning vestibules and dizzying bridges suspended between towers +as he continues to talk.
+“Ousia works even on Konsu the Lord of All Dreams. Ephermeris is his +throne, it’s true. But it is also his prison. The island is +Konsu, you see. He is no longer at liberty to roam his domain himself, +in his own flesh. But perhaps you have already met one of his avatars? +Morpheus? The Dude 215R? Kilroy? Hmm, yes, I see that you have.
+“Well,” he says pulling up short of an archway. You can hear voices +and laughter and the clinking of dinnerware on the other side. “I +believe we have arrived at your destination. I thank you for the +company, and will leave you here.”
+The ravenfolk withdraws, disappearing once more into the maze of the +tower.
+You look through the archway and see a plush dinner club absolutely +packed with patrons of all possible shapes and sizes. The Harpoon +Club.
+You catch somebody waving at you from a table in the far corner. +Blavin Blandfoot. He grins and beckons you forward.
+Joining him is a tall, slender cat person. Its facial features mostly +obscured by its jet-black fur. And with their back to you, a wizened old +man. The three of them are in the middle of a round of tumbrot, a +complicated game of wagers—overly complicated, some would say—involving +a special deck of cards, a set of dice, and a tumbling tower of +blocks.
+You watch as the cat reaches out and carefully removes a block from +the middle of the tower. It places it on top, and the tower sways. The +group at the table excitedly holds its breath, and when the tower falls, +the cat holds its head in its hands in exaggerated dismay. The old man +whoops and gathers up his winnings and then turns and looks over his +shoulder in the direction that Blavin is waving.
+Corraidhín the Sysorcerer grins and waves at you.
+++Alex pulls at the trigger of the ak and he plummets towards the waves +sending a wave of cold lead towards the bigger Katsuva. “Son of a bitch, +never trust someone who has to hide their face, agent 7, marvelo, always +was right on that one.” Hell, dunno if magical dream guns work on +mushrooms, but to hell with it, Alex thought.
+He plunges into the water gripping tightly to his weapon, the little +katsuva clinging to him. As the water wraps around him he kicks at the +little mushroom breaking its grasp on his leg, and begins to swim back +up to the surface. “Like hell we’re doing this your way cavatappi +dude.”
+Back in the real world..
+Marvelo stares bleakly at the child and his assailant. “Who the fuck +do you think you are? And what the hell are you doing with the kid, +Rind, ain’t nothin good to come from some shady bloke like you. The hell +do you think you’re teaching him?”
+As Marvelo hurls insults as demands at his assailant he slyly presses +his thumb and forefinger into the palm of his left hand, breaking a +small resistor embedded in his palm which activates as feint electrical +pulse inside his body. Just enough to trigger a Zabbix alarm, which +kicks off a series out automated correction scripts. A dose of +adrenaline here, a quick alaert to the remaining agents with a broadcast +LAT/LONG details via encrypted twtxt feed, but most importantly +something special Alex had each agent prepare, just in case their luck +ran out, an alarm only the damned could sleep through.
+The screech of heavy metal music blares throughout the audio system +of the warehouse, every alarm and speaker comes alive blaring heavy +riffs of guitar and wicked drums fill the air while screaming echos +around the building. Marvelo laughs maniacly as his uninvited guest +reels at the unexpected turn of events.
+“Alex! We caught him!” Marvelo yells through his laughing fit.
+
Gliftwirp frowns as the sirens wail in the fish market. He tightens +the rope around Marvelo’s neck. Deprived of oxygen, Marvelo struggles +and then goes limp.
+The hemogoblin in the corner trembles as an overpowering sense of +JUSTICE sings in its veins. It gnashes its teeth and its bloodshoot eyes +become pupil-less pools of red. A single word dances on the tip of its +tongue.
+It watches as Gliftwirp stands at the edge of the ritual circle, +looking in. Pillows and blankets creep slowly toward the dreamers like +slugs intent on smothering them.
+The hemogoblin launches itself into the air with a cry of “EEEEE! +VULL!” and lands on the assassin’s back, sinking its teeth into the nape +of his neck and reaching its claws around for his face.
+Gliftwirp cries out in pain and surprise. His hands shoot back to pry +the thing from his back even as he is propelled forward by the force of +the attack.
+Gliftwirp and the hemogoblin cross the circle of salt and ash and +spill into the pillows in a heap and instantly both of them fall fast +asleep.
+An observer would almost think they were cuddling each other in their +sleep. If it weren’t, that is, for the goblin’s claws, still sunk into +the side of the warpwefter’s face.
+Rind, sired by the melon seller, abandoned by his own mother, and +adopted by the assassin, watches all of this unfold. And sits down and +strokes the duck’s feathers.
+~
+Alex’s ascent into the waking world is interrupted by a surge that +tugs him sideways and off track. The presence of new arrivals in the +stream, the tenuous connection between the waking and dreaming worlds +held open by the Dream Sigil. Somebody beckoning him, summoning him.
+He emerges from the void into an endless, featureless expanse. Plain, +loose, dark soil as far as the eye can see, with only a small rock or +two here and there to break up the monotony. The black empty sky looms +ominously overhead.
+Before you is a tall, slender person in voluminous robes of deep +purple. Their soft, smooth face framed by curtains of long, straight, +blonde hair. They wear a golden circlet on their head and a golden eye +in the middle of their forehead. And in their hands they wield a +resplendent longsword.
+Shreds of a tattered red cloth lie strewn about their feet.
+They lift their head at your appearance. “Alex,” they say. “It is +good that we finally meet. You have done me a great service in gathering +pieces of my essence—including this, the Sword of Y’aml!—so that I may +finally start to return to Basmentaria. You have done so much already, +but I am afraid I must ask more of you still.”
+WHAT DO YOU DO