Total length: 91892 words / 392 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +
Total length: 94060 words / 401 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 248 messages posted over 240 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.03.
+There have been 255 messages posted over 241 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.05.
This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.
Jump to: 1 2
WHAT DO YOU DO Alex grabs the envelope from in front of him and rushes to check on
+Inky and Marvelo. “Are you two alright?” he asks as he notes the patch
+job Inky performed. “Thank you Inky, I understand why my uncle trusted
+you so much.” he said sincerely. Inky was far better a healer than Alex
+could ever hope to be. He steps away, noting there’s not much he can do after Inky gives
+their response. Marv is stable, but not much a talker at the moment. He
+proceeds to check on the duck, the child Rind, and the hemogoblin. The
+little hemogoblin burbbles happily and climbs up to sit on Alex’s
+shoulder, tugging lightly at the cord which suspended the gem Neddas
+gave him, now worn around his neck. “Best not mess with that one little
+one, I’m not sure what the hell just happened, but I don’t trust it. Or
+any of this eldritch mumbo jumbo..” Rind is quiet pensive, and doesn’t respond much when Alex attempts to
+interact. “Inky, do you think you can look after this one when you get a
+second? I’m going to check on the sleeping bloke.” Alex carefully makes his way back towards the circle, making sure not
+to cross over it. He quietly inspects their unwelcomed guest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I ought to put a bullet
+through your skull where you lay you sick son of a bitch. How dare you
+sneak up on my friends like that.” Alex racks his pistol, noting there’s
+a bullet in the chamber, and levels it at the silk assassin. “Inky,
+unless you have objections, I’m going to tie up some loose ends..” Alex
+says grimly. ~ “It’s just basic first aid, Master Alex. Any old adventuring sod on
+the street can do it. Thank you for the thought, though.” Inky replies.
+“However, very few people can pull off what you just did. That was a
+remarkable feat.” They take a long look at the child, then beckon their marketing
+manager closer, crouching down next to them to speak softly and slowly
+to the child. “I guess you’ve already met duck. You’re friends, right?
+But did you know that duck is a really good listener? Whenever you’re
+sad or scared, you can tell duck. Duck always knows what to do. If you
+let duck give you a hug, duck can help you feel better too.” They guide
+the child’s hands to the duck’s back and let them rest there, watching
+for a moment as small, thin fingers begin to stroke the feathers of
+their own accord. At the sysorcerer’s direct address, they look over to him and their
+slumbering visitor’s form. “Do as you like, Master Alex.” Inky says
+tonelessly. They add in a low voice, “In all likelihood he will be
+unable to cause trouble this side again. If he has not woken up now that
+the candle’s spell has broken, he probably never will. Maybe justice has
+already been served, or the Scissorfolk got to him. Mercy is an
+unpopular idea of late though, and I’m hardly in a position to ask
+anyone to ponder its meaning.” They frown at the body. “Speaking of which, the ever-resourceful case
+manager has another proposal for you to consider, having gone as far as
+to recruit a local celebrity you know well to speak to his cause. His
+group, the Golden Iris, wants the crystals for the purpose of conferring
+divinity upon the Corn Mother Sitopotnia and making knowledge of the
+process available to all. No doubt he’ll be expecting a response to his
+offer soon. But I see you have already made your choice.” Inky offers
+the sysorcerer a resigned smile. The sound of tapping on glass interrupts Inky’s next words. They look
+in the direction of the window to see the scops owl outside with a
+weatherproof pouch in its beak. Inky walks over to the window, wedging
+it open just wide enough to allow the bird to hop in and takes the
+pouch. A tiny smirk makes its way to Inky’s face when they return the
+owl’s searching stare, despite an attempt to look stern and failing. “He
+let you out, hmm? All right, in a minute,” Inky murmurs to the newly
+arrived messenger, while pulling out an envelope from the pouch. As the
+small owl sets itself on the imp’s right shoulder like it belonged
+there, said imp half-turns to Master Alex, expression serious again. “One more thing.” They place the detonator, followed by the envelope,
+on top of a stack of pillows a few paces from the sysorcerer. It is
+identical in appearance to the one they had presented to Master
+Corraidhín in the Dreaming. “Since you weren’t at the meeting, I offered to take a message from
+your uncle presumptive. Fuko’s caretaker has a contraption that can
+print copies of notes written on special paper after showing them to the
+twins. It has come in handy on occasion in remote areas with few or no
+amenities,” Inky explains. “Anyway, I don’t know if he wrote anything,
+or if he was truly Master Corraidhín. Fuko handled the rest and I didn’t
+ask her amid the hustle. It could be a blank sheet and everything I just
+said was probably a terrible joke. He did seem genuinely glum you
+couldn’t be there, though.” They shrug. “You know what to do from here.
+Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would very much like some fresh air.” With
+those parting words and walking stick in hand, Inky strides quickly from
+the room, out of the dilapidated building and into the drizzling
+rain. ~ Alex gripped his pistol as Inky walked away, her words ringing in his
+ears “you have already made your choice. The statement brings pause, a
+flicker of doubt, and a frown mars Alex’s face. As Inky shuts the door
+behind her Alex lets out a discontented sigh, what was it Uncle had
+said? “A man’s fate, is wrought by his own hand” Alex looked at the sleeping man before him, the pistol in his hand,
+Marvelo’s blood spattered haphazardly across his gloves and trench coat.
+Was more blood really the answer? Would killing this man right the wrong
+done against Alex? Or his agents? Would their dangerous game get any
+less dangerous? A single shot rang out from the warehouse, the bullet lodge
+harmlessly amongst pillows and blankets. The pistol cast aside, resting
+next to the bestilled assassin, with a small note afixed to it. ‘Your fate is wrought by your own hand, not mine. - Agent 4’ Alex gathers himself, discontented, and pulls the letter Inky gave
+him open. Inside was Uncle’s familiar writing, in the simple cypher he’d
+used when Alex was just a boy. Alex shakes as he folds the letter back into the envelope and presses
+it gently against his breast coat pocket. “I’m coming Uncle”, he
+whispers as he strides across the room and into the rainy night. He catches up with Inky a little down the dock, and comes to sit
+beside her on the wharf. The patter of rain hitting heavily dampened
+planks and stone resounding around them. “Inky.. thank you. For the letter, but also your friendship.” Alex
+casts a side long glance towards Inky, and he begins to describe his
+dream sequence in a rambling sort of way. As he nears the end, “And that
+Neddas gave me this stone, he said gesturing to the necklace he wore.
+But I’d of told you it was bullshit before any of this happened. And now
+you’re telling me there are factions, Blavin, the Benefactor, hell I
+guess us, all vying for control of these crystals. I don’t know what to
+do, or what any of it means, but I know we can forge our own path in
+this, the rest of it be damned!” Alex sighs heavily. “I couldn’t kill the assassin. He killed one of
+my men, almost killed Marvelo. He’d of killed us if he hadn’t gotten
+caught in that magic. I don’t know if I have it in me Inky, I’m not sure
+I can keep staring into the abyss without tipping over the edge.” “Everything was a little easier when it was just the agency, hunting
+down the bad guys. We had the data, knew the crimes. All of this
+though?” he gestures broadly towards the sea in front of them “is about
+as clear as a ship on these waters. There’s no light to guide us. And
+all I want is my Uncle back.” Alex sighs heavily again and hands the envelope from Blavin to Inky,
+“and it doesn’t look like it ends here, Blavin wants us to head to the
+moon, but I’m not so sure we should go..” ~ The imp remains quiet for a long time, staring out into the open
+sea. Eventually, Inky says, “I cannot tell you what to do.” They look at the envelope but make no move to take it. “You already have the Fair One’s blessing. Combined with your
+talents, fortitude and determination, success is more or less assured if
+you decide to go. If you decide not to, maybe Master Corraidhín will
+turn up on his own again when he is sufficiently recovered — if he does
+not run off to collect the remainder of the crystals himself.” Inky
+chuckles at that. “Master Alex is such a thoughtful nephew, not wanting
+to deprive his uncle of his fun.” They lean back on their hands and study Master Alex under half-lidded
+eyes. “You really are like your uncle.” A few beats pass, and they turn
+their attention upwards to the sky, tilting their head up towards the
+errant raindrops and cool winds blowing in from across the waters. In the days that follow, you move Marvelo into the Milk Market to
-care for him. The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay’Nullar (a dwrlugh who—as is the case
-with its kind—refuses to go by any given name) makes a rare appearance
-outside of its forge to present Marvelo with a new artificial jaw made
-of polished granite and bronze. It will never be mistaken for flesh, but
-it does somewhat complement the golden tones of Marvelo’s skin. With the
-skill of a surgeon, and craftmanship only the dwrlugh are capable of,
-the Blacksmith affixes the jaw onto Marvelo’s bones with small screws,
-and sews his muscles to the opening and closing mechanisms so that it
-operates naturally.00072
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+I have only a moment to pen this, and I don't know if it'll reach
+you, but I trust Inky will try.
+
+I am very much alive, rest assured, but the where I haven't yet
+pieced together. Blavin has my physical and metaphysical form
+trapped. And he has the second crystal.
+
+But don't worry, if you're looking as Inky claimed, I rest well
+knowing my unrelenting rebel will raise hell itself to find me.
+
+Remember, son, we write our own fate.
+
+- 10
+
The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay’Nullar (a dwrlugh who—as is +traditional among its kind—refuses to go by any given name) makes a rare +appearance outside of its forge to present Marvelo with a new artificial +jaw made of polished granite and bronze. An exquisite gift that more +than settles an old debt owed from an adventure the two of them shared +long ago.
+It will never be mistaken for flesh, but it does somewhat complement +the golden tones of Marvelo’s skin. With the skill of a surgeon, and a +level of craftmanship unique to the dwrlugh, the Blacksmith affixes the +jaw to Marvelo’s bones with small metal screws, and lengthens and sews +his muscles to the contraption so that it operates naturally, just like +the real thing.
Marvelo grows stronger as the days go by. His recovery is no doubt accelerated by the hemogoblin, who provides ample transfusions and -refuses to leave his bed. Though he will ever be physically scarred by -his encounter with the Nyxmaer, he soon enough is able to eat and drink -on his own.
+refuses to leave his bed. Confidence and Bread continue to help out +around the place, and take turns checking in on him. +Though he will ever be physically scarred by his encounter with the +Nyxmaer, Marvelo soon enough is able to eat and drink on his own. Soon +after that he is puttering around the Milk Market and growing restless +at his confinement.
+Kasutva falls in with Quack and Clot and attains the rank of Milk +Market Mascot. They have a better command of language than their +companions. And, being an escapee dream entity, at times behaves a +little alien, inscrutible, and other-wordly. They don’t sleep, for +example. And every morning they demand a full recounting of everybody’s +dreams, omitting nothing, and sometimes requiring up to three retellings +of each dream. But they otherwise settle right right in.
+Another curious presence in the Milk Market is Rind. The orphaned +child of Pepo the melon vendor. Abandoned by his mother. Adopted by +Gliftwirp the assassin. The child has still not uttered a word the +entire time. Rind and the duck have formed an inseparable bond. +Apparently becoming a conjoined host for a living dentophiliac nightmare +will do that. Whenever you least suspect it, you’ll turn around to find +Rind standing behind you, silent, wide-eyed, and watching. Cradling the +duck in his arms and stroking its feathers.
+Gliftwirp has still not responded to any attempts to wake him. The +toques have assumed responsibility for sustaining him through his +unnatural slumber. Feeding him broth, and carrying him outside now and +then for fresh air and sunshine. More kindness than Alex is comfortable +with, no doubt. Rind visits him often in the storage closet where his +cot is set up. Keeping a silent, watchful vigil. Rind’s apparent +affection for the assassin is actually probably the only reason +Gliftwirp is shown any compassion whatsoever by Team 43.
+Your next mission looms ahead of you. Putting your heads together +with Marvelo and Confidence, you agree that the most simple way forward +will be to use the pirate balloonship currently docked above the Market. +It is straight-forward enough to retrofit it with a portable atmosphere +(which will provide you with breathable oxygen and gravity) and a +starhelm (which will allow you to pilot the ship through the void of +space). Both items can be obtained in Vay’Nullar for a reasonable +price.
+The only thing holding you back at this point is your own +reservations about the various interested parties and their +motivations.
+Do you help the Golden Iris create a new god? Or do you help an +existing, exiled god return to Basmentaria? And then who knows what the +mysterious Benefactor’s plans are?
+Whatever your answer, there’s one thing you know: If you don’t get +moving soon, the next Ginnarak Crystal will fall into somebody else’s +hands.
+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 4a1c688..2e25c09 100644
--- a/www/rss.xml
+++ b/www/rss.xml
@@ -6,54 +6,1456 @@
https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml
Alex the Octopus and Inky the Noogle stand on a tree branch
- as wide a street in the heart of the great white upside-down
- forest. A cry of anguish and anger echoes through the forest, and
- the branches below you sway and rustle as something rises up
- from the depths. You keep catching a glimpse of scarlet
- between the silvery white leaves. The large black ravens perched below you scream in
- agitation and fly up past you to the thicker branches up
- above, where they hop side to side and loudly scold and
- protest the disturbance. A single black feather the length of
- your hand settles to the ground at your feet, knocked loose
- during their flight. You finally see the fearsome beast crashing through the
- branches below you. Its crazed, yellow eyes as large and round
- as dinner plates, a great eight-legged rodent leaps from
- branch to branch as it swiftly ascends. It is a bloody,
- crimson red. Its long tufted ears lay flat against its
- elongated, grinning skull. Its ribbon-like tail twitches as it
- trails along behind it like a river of blood. It cries out
- again in anger, showing its overgrown incisors, and grinds and
- gnashes its back teeth. Its eyes bore into you with wild fury and blind madness as
- it climbs. “She’s not herself,” sighs the chipmunk, suddenly at your
- side once more. When you look down at the chipmunk, however,
- it has suddenly turned into a small featureless black turtle
- with a sticky sweet roll instead of a shell. Its smooth little
- head pokes timidly out of the roll. “The Red Squirrel,” laments the turtle. “She’s being ridden
- by a ghost. An angry ghost who isn’t from here. Somebody left
- the door open, and it blew in on the breeze.” The turtle’s
- voice trails off until its final words are barely a
- whisper. You can still feel two currents tugging at you and trying
- to pull you under. One inward toward your host’s deep, core
- memories. And the second pulling you outward toward the Sea of
- Dreams. You have but a moment before the Red Squirrel is upon
+ “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 In the fish market, the dreamers continue to sleep soundly
+ through the ringing claxon alarms with nothing but maybe the
+ twitch of a finger to indicate that they hear anything at
+ all. During the commotion with Marvelo and Gliftwirp, nobody but
+ Rind noticed the thick rusty nail in the side of the candle
+ wiggle its way out of the soft wax and clatter onto the plate
+ at the base of the candle, the ringing of tin masked by the
+ ringing of the claxon alarm. Still the dreamers sleep. Rind watches as the candle burns dangerously low. The
+ mummified hand of the Nyxmaer in the base of the candle starts
+ to wriggle, struggle, and strain against the softening wax. It
+ stretches and reaches for the eye in the center of the
+ candle. Rind continues to soothe the duck and stroke its feathers.
+ The child looks at the space where Gliftwirp and the
+ hemogoblin stumbled into the circle, smudging the line of salt
+ and ash, breaking the circle and severing its continuity.
+ Making a small space for something to get in. Or out. “Yo! Little cavatappi dude, where the hell are we?!” Alex’s
+ eyes scan the room rapidly. There’s no water, aside from what
+ he dragged in with his abrupt departure from the pier. The
+ dark sky stretches into the nothingness of the void. Asthe
+ robed figure begins speaks Alex takes note of his
+ situation. ‘Nowhere to hide, zero cover. A whole lot of nothing
+ actually. It’s one thing after another with this dream
+ thing.’ As the figure finishes his address Alex nods politely.
+ “I’ll be honest my guy, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re
+ talking about. Looks to me you’ve got the whole sword thing,
+ all I’ve got is my trusty AK. I guess back top side, in umm I
+ guess the real world, I did find a wonky dagger my uncle tried
+ to hide. But I’m pretty sure that got eaten by a cute little
+ hemogoblin while I was busy murdering ghost pirates. Anyways
+ more to the point, I’m not quite sure I follow.” Alex pauses briefly and then continues, “You say you need
+ to get out of here? Now that part I follow, me the hell too. I
+ just got attacked by some freaky sadist mushroom that called
+ itself katsuva. Cut its head clean off just so it could try
+ and chuck me in the drink. Right unpleasant fella, but I think
+ I lost him when, well, I got here, wherever that is.” “Now I don’t know much, but I’m not much for trust after
+ getting attacked by a talking mushroom monster. So if you’ll
+ excuse me, I reckon the exit is right about that way (Alex
+ jabs his finger over his back away from the figure), and I’m
+ inclined to head out unless you know a better way.” You weren’t in the kobit caves with the rest of Retrieval
+ Team 43, so you didn’t see the reliefs. But every Basmentarian
+ is familiar with the iconography of the Trine. This figure is
+ dressed in the traditional rainments of Neddas, god of sages
+ and starlight. Furthermore you recognize them from your dreams
+ in the Milk Market. Kasutva the small mushroom meeps and hides behind your
+ leg. “You know, we each of us loved you in our own way,” Neddas
+ says. “But of the three of us, I alone gave away pieces of my
+ divinity. I wanted to see you thrive and grow strong. “You’ve already found several pieces of my essence.
+ Coin in the treasure hoard below the earth.
+ Mirth in the shipwreck under the sea. And
+ lore in the clouds atop Kelsun Peak. “And of course you found justice,” they say,
+ looking at the sword. “This one got a little weird.” The
+ frown. “Became a little sentient, didn’t it?” They press the
+ blade of the sword to their chest and absorb it into their
+ being. They sigh happily. “You have found enough of my essence that I am able to
+ start to materialize again. Not quite in Basmentaria yet. But
+ here, a little bit. “There are still two more pieces out there. If you can
+ reunite all five crystals, I will be able to cross over into
+ Basmentaria again. “So yes, Alex. You are correct. It is time you head out.
+ Return to Basmentaria. Find the remaining crystals, so that I
+ may return and right the wrongs of the past. I will do what I
+ can to assist you.” Inky waves back once, twice in greeting, before crossing
+ their forefingers twice, touching a hand briefly to their
+ chest, and strolling towards the restrooms. Leaning against a wall outside of the rest area, out of
+ sight from the main dining hall, Inky pulls out the message
+ from Master Alex and reads it. Engagement confirmed, it seems.
+ Also in the envelope is a smooth oval grey pebble with the
+ letters “sh” carved onto it. A mini dousojin. How considerate
+ of him. Putting the envelope and pebble into a shorts pocket, Inky
+ holds up a chewy blood berry biscuit, which they offer to the
+ great horned owl patiently perched on their shoulder. “What if
+ we just zip out now and have a walk around the towers? Do you
+ think it will cause offence to the Grand Master of the realm?”
+ Inky asks her. Fuko looks up from her treat and gives them a
+ short series of disapproving clicks of her beak. “He wants more ‘intel’,” Inky says. It isn’t even a
+ question. On another occasion they would be glad to see Master
+ Corraidhn animated and well — when there wasn’t a demanding
+ curmudgeon on the other end of an absurd fishing expedition.
+ The elder sysorcerer’s presence in the Dreaming, illusion or
+ otherwise, has effectively dashed any prospect of an early
+ night out. “Thirteen minutes. Only because Scoops likes you.” Inky
+ tells the owl. They look down at their shirt with orange horizontal
+ stripes, blue knee-length shorts, blue running shoes, and
+ wordlessly declare the change of clothes suitable for fine
+ non-dining. The noogle’s drawstring pouch is knotted to a
+ metal hoop on a pocket flap to one side of their shorts,
+ having let loose a short mop of tousled red hair. A plush
+ floofy duck keychain dangles next to the pouch. Emerging from the hallway, the awkward, skinny youth with
+ an owl approaches the far corner table. You approach the far corner table, weaving your way through
+ the crowded tables of the Harpoon Club. “Inky!” Blavin chorttles merrily as you pull up a chair.
+ The cat person nods politely at you and starts rebuilding the
+ block tower. Corraidhín watches the archway behind you as you enter.
+ When nobody follows you into the Harpoon Club he frowns, tugs
+ on his beard, and sits up straighter in his chair. “You’re alone?” Blavin observes. “No matter. Thank you so
+ much for meeting us here! I trust it wasn’t too much trouble?
+ A little bit out of the way, I know. But it is so very hard to
+ find a place away from prying eyes, isn’t it?” “Get to the point, Blavin.” snaps Corraidhín. “Quite right!” laughs Blavin, taking a sip of his drink.
+ “Listen,” he says, suddenly very serious. “It’s time I came
+ clean to you. You deserve that much. And besides, I think we
+ can help each other. While it is true that I work for the
+ Benefactor, I don’t actually serve their interests. You see, I
+ represent another party. A double agent they would
+ call me in the spy novels.” He waves his hand dismissively, as
+ though somebody were making a fuss over him and he were
+ embarrassed. “As I’m sure you already know, our organization is called
+ the Golden Iris. Like the Benefactor, our goal is to collect
+ the Ginnarak Cystals. I know you’ve heard all the old stories.
+ Together they could kill a god, blah blah blah.” He
+ sloshes his drink as the gestures. “But we think they’ve got
+ it all wrong, Inky. That is, they have it backwards
+ at least!” Blavin leans in, his eyes shining. “The Golden Iris intends
+ nothing less than creating a new god!” “The Trine has been absent for years. We’re going to
+ restore the balance. Now you see why the mission is so
+ important, Inky. We need the crystals.” “Now I know what you’re going to say! It all sounds too
+ fantastic. Yes well, that’s why I brought along somebody whose
+ credibility I know you’ll trust!” He beams at Corraidhín. The wizard sighs. “As far as I can tell, the hobbit is
+ telling the truth.” Blavin grins as Corraidhín continues. “The Golden Iris is trying to elevate Sitopotnia, the Corn
+ Mother, to godhood. Which I admit makes a certain kind of
+ sense. She’s the only mortal to have created life after all.
+ Kind of the ideal candidate for the job to be honest. They’ve hitched an odd team of mules to their buggy to help
+ them. And they’re managing to drag the thing forward despite
+ all pulling in slightly different directions. The Cyberplasms
+ want new bodies. The Gnu Zealots want to open source the
+ process so everybody can create new gods. And I don’t actually
+ know what the BAND wackos want.” Corraidhín shrugs, “I don’t have a particular dog in this
+ fight. The Benefactor was able to excise the, ahem, ‘anomaly’
+ that happened at the SS RSS. Including the second crystal,
+ which is currently in his possession, and my body, which is
+ still technically back at the institute and still under the
+ care of Felixe here.” The black cat gives another polite nod.
+ Having completed building the tumbling tower, it is now
+ shuffling the tumbrot cards, face down, around on the
+ table. “Felixe is Basmentaria’s preeminent expert in preserving
+ entities that happen to exist between two states. Or that
+ happen to exist in two states at the same time.. Bah, it’s
+ complicated,” Corraidhín huffs. “Yes!” interrupts Blavin. “Now! Despite working closely
+ with him all this time, I am actually none the wiser as to the
+ Benefactor’s actual plans for the crystals. I just know we
+ need them more. “Inky, you must retrieve the remaining crystals. And also
+ the one in the Benefactor’s possession. And deliver them to us
+ so we may usher in a new age for Basmentaria!” Felixe the cat deals the cards out to the center of the
+ table, face down, in a cross. Three across, three high. It
+ sets the remainder of the deck aside and looks at you
+ expectantly. WHAT DO YOU DO? The fingertips of the Nyxmaer graze the eye and an eldritch
+ wind begins to howl inside the fish market. It whips around and around inside the ritual circle,
+ flipping blankets and tossing pillows. The dreamers also toss
+ and turn in their sleep, but still do not wake. The foul wind
+ tugs at their hair and at their clothing. The small candles around the edge of the circle go out,
+ plunging the room into near darkness. The dark flame of the
+ demon candle sputters. The wind screams as it pushes through the small smudged gap
+ in the circle and out onto the floor of the market. It coils
+ around Rind’s feet and teases at the hem of the child’s dress.
+ It ruffles the duck’s feathers. The fingertips flick over the eye, caress it, draw it
+ close. And finally its fist closes tightly around it. The last candle goes out, plunging the room into darkness.
+ The wind and the sirens stop all at once, and in the silence
+ all that can be heard is the steady rain outside. “Look Trine or not, I need a little more than this. I ain’t
+ nobodies errand boy, and insofar as I can tell either the Gods
+ are dead, or they haven’t given a rats ass about me or anyone
+ else. What’s more, you’re claiming to be some sort of
+ divinity, yet you can only manifest here amongst my
+ nightmares, the same ones I learned years ago to shut out. You
+ never forget the face of your first mark, but what they don’t
+ tell you is it doesn’t have to haunt you either.” Alex looks
+ directly at the apparition. “But I’m reasonable too. Give me some proof you say what
+ you are. You say you have power to share? Well power I need. I
+ have people to protect, and an unclue to rescue. I’ll be
+ damned if I let anything happen to them. Yet here I am, stuck
+ in this god firsaken place chittering away with my own
+ subconcious getting attacked by freaking mushrooms
+ people.” “Just give it to me straight Neddas, what assistance are
+ you offering, and what must I give in return? If you an
+ guarantee me a way to protect those close to me, I don’t give
+ a rats ass about the rest.” Neddas silently holds your gaze for a long moment. “What you ask of me is fair, since I am asking so much of
+ you.” They hold out their hands and present you with a stone
+ amulet. It slightly resembles the Ginnarak Crystals. Much
+ smaller. And more almond shaped than melon shaped. But it is
+ the same shade of blue, with the same veins of slightly
+ pulsating gold throughout. It hangs from a fine chain of small
+ silver links. “As long as this stone is in your possession, you will find
+ you have the courage to do what you think is right. Be aware
+ that it is a piece of me. And those who know about it will try
+ to take it from you.” In the distance you can hear alarms and terrible moans
+ carried on a howling wind. ~ Corraidhín impatiently flips over the first three tumbrot
+ cards in front of Inky: A tall man looks from a battlemented roof over sea and
+ shore; he holds a globe in his right hand, while a staff in
+ his left rests on the battlement; another is fixed in a ring.
+ The Rose and Cross and Lily should be noticed on the left
+ side. Strange chalices of vision, but the images are more
+ especially those of the fantastic spirit. A ferryman carrying passengers in his punt to the
+ further shore. The course is smooth, and seeing that the
+ freight is light, it may be noted that the work is not beyond
+ his strength. Felixe the Cat passes the two six-sided tumbrot dice to
+ Inky and recites a small pome for the inkling: You can suddenly hear an ominous wind whistling outside the
+ club and battering at the windows. “Well?” Balvin prompts. “What do you do?” Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea,
+ “perfumed of rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I
+ appreciate it Inky, these past few days have been terribly
+ rough, and I’m rather tired of field rations.” Alex takes a
+ sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve been monitoring the
+ Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just me, but I
+ fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I
+ can’t be entirely certain.” Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here.
+ As soon as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an
+ assignment, normally not an issue, but they wanted me to level
+ 3 of the busiest coffee shops in the bazar. I planted those
+ bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I bugged out. My
+ team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre
+ assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of
+ innocent lives are on the line here.” “We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening
+ post in the sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s
+ where I’ve been hiding out, but I’m not certain it’s safe.
+ Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in the market, and this
+ vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk Market, looking
+ for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from HQ,
+ could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.” “As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me,
+ there’s 5 of them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man
+ the ship and get the hell out of here in a few hours, and it
+ may be our best chance. But there’s the iris letter we need to
+ attend to, and I cannot for the life of me find anything, not
+ a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this bodes very
+ poorly for us.” Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have
+ a ritual we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting
+ place.. I’m leery Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle
+ trusted you, and I do as well. If you think this is our best
+ shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try to perform this
+ dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris business
+ turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a
+ gun? ~ “Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex.
+ Caution is likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously. The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly
+ deranged grin. “I’m sure you have already seen many grave
+ dangers. What’s another one for the bucket list? What’s life
+ if not violent and messy? So many melons dismembered and laid
+ waste daily—” As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks.
+ “Melon vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about
+ his neighbour’s boa constrictors for years. The serpents were
+ drawn to the rodents his fruits typically attracted, which
+ might not have been a problem were it not for them hanging out
+ at his stall and scaring off his customers. Maybe he finally
+ took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.” They
+ look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had
+ offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they
+ arrived, as he was already delivering to a household the next
+ district over.” They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after
+ you? You didn’t do something horrid like help an old
+ grandmother cross the street on sockless skates, for
+ instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky continues, “As
+ for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered. Blavin
+ knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others.
+ Until he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he
+ doesn’t know that, then he is hardly a threat.” Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to
+ get our attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve
+ minutes of fame, for the right price. Enlightenment would
+ probably be too much to ask of a nightmare. If you’d rather
+ take your team and make a run for it instead, that’s fine too.
+ If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you missed the hotel
+ fondue at Kelsun Peak.” Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their
+ head. “No gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo
+ walking stick hanging from a hook on a wall next to a worn
+ coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls. It slides out quietly
+ to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel tube which, if
+ someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is sparsely
+ covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On
+ the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube
+ to end about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible
+ through the narrow window is a colourless liquid, most likely
+ a sedative or toxin, fills the reinforced steel interior. They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that
+ Master Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have
+ been the most foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You
+ would do well to not make that mistake.” ~ “It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”,
+ Alex says, as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes,
+ “that’ll be the dead man’s trigger going off in my
+ hideout.” Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems,
+ that hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite,
+ assuming they don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the
+ fun.. Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so
+ lets bring the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a
+ lead on this with this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take
+ the risk. I won’t run from this fight, my uncle sure as hell
+ wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out with a magnificient bang.
+ Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo. Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another
+ hideout in the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild.
+ It’s a little risky to head out that way, but none of my
+ Zabbix alerts indicate it was compromised. It has automated
+ IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe enough in there once
+ we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone comes for us,
+ and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We should
+ bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the
+ duck. Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best
+ if you got the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe,
+ and I don’t want to see you become collateral here. Head down
+ to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5 meet you there, he’ll help you
+ and your family lay low until all of this blows over.” ~ At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as
+ well do as Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks
+ away, and turtle soup is really out of fashion these
+ days.” Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning
+ about fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap
+ carrier draped in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you
+ don’t mind if I bring along a guest as well.” The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse,
+ with transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured
+ by sliding shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a
+ woven, web-like pattern and adorned with a string of feathers
+ hangs from one side. On the opposite side is a double door
+ with a miniature knob over each door. Inky lightly taps on one
+ of the doors, and at a low click coming from within in
+ response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps
+ to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside.
+ The bird opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly
+ across the occupants in the room before dozing off again. “This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain
+ shared connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I
+ asked their caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko
+ will accompany me for the ritual. Her brother is at another
+ location and can send a message if a need arises.” Inky
+ explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a minor
+ indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle
+ owls, are very good at negotiating with those of the
+ ravens.” They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little
+ temperamental, but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse
+ doors, Inky turns back to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather
+ not reveal the location of your hideout to any more people
+ than necessary. Her carrier will remain covered on the way in
+ and out.” Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in
+ shadow, far from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of
+ funerals. Often under these very circumstances, in fact. And
+ he always keeps his distance out of respect. For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and
+ trousers. And his bright red colors would be a sign of
+ disrespect among the mourners. Secondly and most importantly,
+ he himself is the one who put the man in the ground. Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the
+ sysorcer. Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for
+ him. When he realized that one of the agents had been in
+ contact with the melon vendor, he knew that Popplewick could
+ and would identify the warpwefter if pressured. Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon
+ vendor. Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from
+ the Cinderlands, his family came to Vay’Nullar following the
+ Artifice Wars when he was just a boy. He grew up poor, and
+ often relied on the generosity of others. But eventually he
+ was able to support himself and his small family. He was proud
+ of the life he had built. So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one
+ night when Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the
+ assassin slipped a bag over his head and dragged him into a
+ dark alley. He cinched the bag tight, cutting off his air.
+ There was a brief struggle before Popplewick passed out and
+ Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him there,
+ unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took
+ but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left. Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until
+ only the widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her
+ chest. “Oh, Pepo,” she whispers to the headstone. “What can I
+ do now?” When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She
+ meanders slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the
+ graveyard and down the hill. She steps into the wood. A flash
+ of red follows her at a distance. She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the
+ child down on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at
+ her with solemn eyes. “I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to
+ the child. And that is all the explanation it gets. She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her
+ go. When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps
+ out of the shadows and crouches down beside the child. It
+ looks up and reaches for him. “Look at you,” he says to the
+ child as he scoops it up. “Who would throw you away? A
+ perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child. “A
+ sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come,
+ Rind, we have work to do.” The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the
+ city. ~ In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They
+ clearly struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for
+ Popplewick’s death and the widow’s weakness. Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and
+ awkwardly turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears
+ the latch with a faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle
+ against the heavy iron door, pushing it slowly open, inch by
+ inch. A mechanism clicks inside and there is a whoosh of air
+ and then a boom as the bunker violently ignites. The tiny
+ figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer
+ tunnel. Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and
+ crouches down by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered
+ and burned bundle of cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small
+ child standing at his elbow. “You must always acknowledge and
+ be grateful for those who sacrifice for you.” He starts to
+ untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It unfurls and
+ smooths out and stitches itself back together under his touch.
+ Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again
+ holding his red sash. “Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s
+ hand, squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage
+ here.” WHAT DO YOU DO Inky offers the cat person a bemused half-smile, then turns
+ to the sysorcerer. “We hope you are well. Young Master Alex
+ has been searching for you. He had planned on coming, but had
+ to attend to an urgent matter on short notice.” A pause, then Inky slides an open envelope — a plain affair
+ with a grid of tiny blue dots, and a single sheet of a similar
+ pattern inside — across the table towards the wizard. They
+ continue, “If there is anything you wish to tell him, you can
+ write it in a language only you two understand and seal the
+ envelope. This one will do their best to pass on the message.”
+ They wave another identical envelope, indicating the message
+ will be copied once sealed before pocketing it again. “If you do decide to write, please do it promptly. This one
+ will be departing shortly, and the envelope in front of you
+ will disappear,” they inform the sysorcerer with an apologetic
+ look and a tinge of sadness. To the self-proclaimed double agent, Inky replies, “Thanks
+ for the information. Master Alex will be positively ecstatic
+ with the news.” They send the hobbit a lopsided smile.
+ “Nevertheless, you will understand if the party would like to
+ consider your proposal further before providing an answer.
+ Haste makes waste, as proverbs say. Perhaps your pirate
+ captain would agree. My condolences.” Ignoring the proffered dice, Inky bids the group at the
+ table good evening and exits the club by the same route with
+ which they had entered, trying to stave off the growing unease
+ at the back of their mind. ~ Three corridors later, one with a high vaulted ceiling away
+ from the din of the gambling club, Inky slows their brisk trot
+ and hands Fuko the envelope. The owl grips the item, dives
+ down and drops it onto the thick carpet. She places the back
+ of one feet lightly over a corner of the envelope, deftly
+ slicing open the top layer along one edge with a claw. Working
+ quickly, she pulls out the contents with her beak, smoothing
+ out the sheet with a brush of her wings. Next, she flies in a
+ slow circle above the papers a few times before descending
+ again upon the papers and dragging them into a cake tin.
+ Finally, the bird pops the lid over the container, where the
+ paper within turns into dry compost. “It’s confidential. Please do not decode.” Inky says as a
+ reminder from their spot near the end of the corridor. Fuko levels an unimpressed look at her companion, as if to
+ say, Yes, for the twenty-fourth time. Inky smiles
+ back at her and asks, “Is your boss satisfied now?”
+ The smile widens briefly at the indignant screech and clicks
+ in response, then vanish as the events of the past few moments
+ caught up to them again. Here in a hallway brightly lit by
+ glow lamps away from any windows, the howling winds are a
+ distant echo, but it did not stop Inky from wondering. It had been a risk, dallying around longer to give the
+ elder wizard time to say his piece in writing. No one could
+ have missed the disappointment written clearly on his face
+ when he realised his nephew hadn’t come. Now, from Fuko’s
+ sparse recount of what their tails had found, the candle had
+ burned down, releasing something somewhere, yet none of the
+ others had woken up. It would appear that Master Alex had not
+ left the Dreaming at all, but was in another area doing
+ Neddas-only-knows-what. They stare up at the large central chandelier in the next
+ room with thousands of crystal beads that gleam like tiny
+ droplets suspended in the air. Orange shirt and blue shorts
+ have since been replaced with a red brimmed hat and blue
+ duffel coat, the drawstring pouch tied below the collar, and
+ running shoes with red rain boots. The mess of ginger hair is
+ trimmed to a caramel crop. When the owl settles again on their shoulder, stirring Inky
+ from their thoughts, they collect the cake tin, remove the lid
+ and look inside. From a pocket of their coat, they pull out
+ three seeds and nudge them with two fingers into the soil.
+ Descending a flight of stairs, Inky sets the dousojin, grown
+ to the size of a boulder, and the tin on a side table. They
+ pour seaweed tea into the tin from a glass bottle, then refill
+ the bottle with small fish-shaped crackers, corking and
+ placing it beside the tin. “Thank you, Great Spirit. This useless one will take their
+ leave now, and apologises if they have accidentally ‘left the
+ door open’ for something to blow in that should not be here.”
+ Inky says. They turn to the great horned owl. “Impeccable as ever,
+ both of you. Thanks for coming along tonight. You may go,
+ Fuko. When you wake yourself or with Futa’s help, please get
+ into the carrier as quickly as you can, activate the
+ connection and leave immediately. Sever it as soon as you
+ arrive safely. Forget about pulling off the patch under my
+ forearm, it can be delivered later, or he can have the body
+ sent over eventually. Leave and don’t look back.” Then, more
+ airily, “Should we meet again, Inky the Insolent shall bring
+ you a large ‘rat at two eels’. How’s that for a handsome
+ reward?” ~ Alex takes the amulet solemnly “Alright, now that’s
+ something I can believe in.” he says as he turns the locket
+ over in his hand. The golden veins shimmer and pulse inside of
+ the pale blue. Alex dons the necklace, noting that the stone
+ is warm, almost exactly body temperature. “Alright Neddas,
+ you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll finish assembling the
+ crystals, we’ll haul you back out to Basementaria. And it
+ sounds like we’re cracking a few eggs along the way thanks to
+ this”. The howling interrupts, growing louder, becoming a
+ cacaphony of tormented banshee wails. The gray expanse of sand
+ fills with a vile wind, a thick almost physical wall of dark
+ black smog closes in. Neddas, is nowhere to be found. Alex dips down and scoops up the little Katsuva, tucking
+ him into the ruck sack at his side. “Hang tight little guy, I
+ think the ride out of here’s going to get bumpy..” In a single swift motion Alex pulls back the bolt on his
+ AK74u and levels it at the smog, letting loose a sustained
+ volley of gunfire. Bullets whiz with a defeaning RATATATAT.
+ While laying down suppressing fire, he pulls the little
+ console back up to his side with a short wave of the hand. A
+ single command is all he needs here. When Alex pulls up his terminal he sees a notification
+ blinking in the corner of the screen. A message from
+ Corraidhín? The howling wind abruptly stops and the smog quickly
+ dissipates. ~ In the fish market, Alex and Inky both wake with a start,
+ gasping for breath as though drowning. It is dark. The lights are all out but it looks as through
+ Marvelo has dropped some flairs on the ground. They fill the
+ room with an eerie, crackling red glow. It is not quiet. The antiques dealer / spymaster has a
+ couple of cords of rope and a couple loose blankets coiled
+ around his arms and legs. He is shaking them off while
+ screaming obscenities and repeatedly firing a blaster pistol
+ at a large, roaring abomination standing in the center of the
+ room. The nightmare has an almost fetal-looking head with a long,
+ bulbous skull that looks far too large for its body. A single
+ eye glares malevolently from the center of its small face.
+ Oily feathers drip from a thin, sagging membrane that runs
+ from wrist to ankle. Its leathery skin cracks and oozes from
+ repeated shots to the torso from Marvelo’s blaster, but it
+ seems unbothered by the attack. It screeches and lunges forward and swings one massive arm
+ at Marvelo. Its leathery, feathery wing slices through the air
+ like a billowing cape behind its claws. Marvelo jumps to the
+ side at the last moment, firing another shot right into the
+ creature’s chest while in midair, and lands on the ground. Now prone and helpless on the floor, he looks up as the
+ beast looms over him. It screeches and falls on top of him,
+ shoving its slender hands into his mouth. Marvelo’s muffled
+ screams become pitiful whimpers as the creature pulls out
+ teeth by the handful and crams them into its own mouth. 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 One moment, Inky is half-asleep on their feet in the middle
+ of Branch Avenue. In the next, they are reclining in a banana
+ boat that resembles a canoe painted with long stripes of
+ yellow and white with deep brown swipes. The s’more interior
+ padding is soft, yet with the suppleness of fruit leather. A
+ few round, matching brown mini-cushions are strewn across the
+ boat interior. Also in the boat are two silver spoon paddles,
+ more for looks than cooks. They don’t know where the boat came from. Things just
+ appear. Like that Red Squirrel. Inky moves to holler a
+ greeting, but instead recites: ~ While Inky boards her banana boat and recites poetry to the
+ maddened squirrel, Alex springs to action leaping blithely
+ from the branch towards the squirrel. Beneath him manifests a
+ cockpit, sleek and futuristic. Around this materializes a
+ large robotic weapon, octopus-oid in shape. The many tentacles
+ bristle with weapons both fearsome and deadly. Alex grabs the controls, in one tentacle he latches onto
+ the banana boat, that way he won’t accidentally get separated
+ from Inky. With the other seven a series of feathers appear in
+ every brilliant hue. The tentacle attached to the boat unfurls
+ allowing Alex to draw closer to the squirrel. As the gap
+ closes the most intense tickle fight the dream world has ever
+ seen ensues, bringing joyous laughter to the faces of
+ many. “Inky, if we need to get out of here, just jet it! That
+ tentacle will yank the control pod and me with it!” Alex basically becomes a Mech pilot, and confronts the Red
+ Squirrel head on with the Octopod. You engage in the tickle fight to end all tickle
+ fights! Its eight arms are more than a match for the squirrels
+ eight legs. You have the advantage of reach, entanglement, and
+ sucker pads. It struggles in your grasp, gnashing its terrible
+ teeth, but cannot reach you. Its long tail whips around
+ ineffectively, battering you softly. The agitated squirrel squeals and swells like a red
+ balloon. The mech’s tentacles struggle to contain it. Just as
+ the strain on the machine is about to become unbearable, the
+ rodent violently deflates. It collapses in on itself with such
+ ferocity that it turns itself inside out. The octopod, all
+ tangled up in the collapsing squirrel, is pulled along as it
+ folds in on itself until it becomes a hungry void the size of
+ a marble, floating in space and sucking at the air. Inky watches from the banana boat as Alex and the squirrel
+ disappear from the Silver Forest. The squirrel portal finally
+ closes in on itself, severing the banana boat from the octopus
+ mecha at the last possible second. Inky on this side. Alex on
+ the other. Alex, you and the wreckage of the octopod are vomited out
+ onto a sandy beach. Red mist and vapors dissipate from your
+ entry point. Before you is a vast ocean, lapping lazily at the
+ beach. The shoreline extends endlessly in both directions.
+ Behind you are endless sand dunes. Though there is no sun, the
+ sky seems to hover at sunset, all brilliant, swirling oranges
+ and purples. A lone humanoid figure can be seen standing atop a nearby
+ dune. It is tall. It has legs like a goat or fawn, and a
+ paunchy belly. Its long neck protrudes into a kind of trunk
+ that eventually folds over and hangs down in front of the
+ creature, about chest height. It terminates in a smooth, round
+ nub. No face. It wears a small satchel at its hip, its strap
+ slung over one shoulder and across its chest. Its long arms
+ hand loosely at its sides. Despite the lack of a face and any
+ sensory organs, it seems to be watching you. Slowly, it
+ descends the dune and starts walking toward you. It reaches
+ into its satchel and draws a long, sharp knife as it
+ approaches. Inky, you are in the banana boat in the Silver Forest. The
+ turtle that was a chipmunk has holed up in its shell,
+ effectively just a sticky bun. “You wanted to see me,” intones a slightly muffled voice
+ behind you. A statement, not a question. You turn to see a
+ figure cloaked in shadows and demons. They wear a domed helmet
+ of black obsidian glass, flashes of rainbow colored light
+ crackling along the inside illuminating very little of the
+ smoke-filled interior. “What is it you seek from Dude 215R?” 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 Neddas loves mortals. Possibly more than they love
- themself. It’s why they’ve diminished their own divinity over
- the eons by freely giving parts of themself away—gifting tiny
- aspects of themself to the mortals. Part of their constant
- delight in doing so is that even with their divine wisdom they
- can never quite be sure what any mortal or mortals will
- actually do with a sliver of godhood, with a divine spark.
- Consequently they have a lot of experience with giving what
- they thought is a perfect gift only for it to be misused, or
- for it to backfire in some unexpected way. The Sword of Y’aml is a prime example. Justice without
- Wisom turned out to be a cruel weapon, seeing evil everywhere
- and smiting it on sight. And Wisdom itself proved as impotent
- as Justice was overzealous: it became as cold and as cruel in
- its own way, locked away in ivory towers, refusing to
- intervene, made lame by theory and academia. So now, in this moment, Neddas watches closely to see if
- they finally got it right. Does this mortal have not only the
- Wisdom to know what to do, but also the Courage to do it in
- the name of Justice? Alex rushes to Marvelo’s side and quickly begins to
- administer medicine to him. “Sorry old friend, it’s not much
- considering the wound, but it should help you at least stay
- lucid” Alex says as he administers the medicine Inky gave him.
- He takes quick stock of Marvelo’s wound, most of his teeth are
- gone, his jaw is horribly disfigured, it’s doubtful if it’ll
- heal properly. At best he’ll need prostethics, potentially a
- full mechanical jaw. It is essentially a death knell in this
- kind of work, the perfect normality Marvelo had always strove
- for would be forever marred by his sudden abnormality. Alex
- shakes his head, “It’s fine Marv, I’m positive we can get this
- fixed, no worse than at wound Agent 3 took in Cosovo, remember
- that one? Hell of a thing that” Alex grins grimly, casting a
- glance over his shoulder. “Alright, you should be set old
- friend, best I can do for now.” Alex hands him back his
- blaster and sits him up against the wall, the bleeding
- staunched, but the magled jaw not much better. Alex stands, reloads his pistol, and turns to face the
- malevolent apparition. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, or what the
- fuck you think you’re doing. But nobody, and I mean nobody,
- messes with my agents, my friends.” Alex approaches the
- apparition, pistol gripped in one hand, and the crystal
- pendant Neddas gave him held tight in the other. “Alright
- Neddas, you said you’d give me something I could protect my
- friends with. Don’t think I believe in it much, but I’d of
- said until about 15 minutes ago that candles don’t produce
- macabre dentists either.” Alex stands before the apparition,
- daring it to move, come and try me if you dare. The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface.
+ Patterns where patterns shouldn’t be, strange orders from HQ,
+ indifference where once was ample aide as well. It was
+ maddening. Combine it all with the haunting suspicion that
+ there was constantly someone just around the next corner, and
+ it was enough to truly drive Alex mad. That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line,
+ but Alex wasn’t about to let it get to him. Or so he thought
+ to himself as he cast a furtive look at his monitoring
+ equipment. This paranoia had served him well in the past, very
+ well in fact. It’s a sort of sixth sense in a way, always kept
+ Alex off the edge of the cliff, especially when someone
+ stepped close enough to push him off. Those were the types of
+ skills HQ sought after in the first place. Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his
+ monitoring equipment running, dead man’s trigger set to blow
+ the place shoul anyone enter it. Can’t be too careful these
+ days.. Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows,
+ Alex makes his way down an alley, then another, and yet
+ another, finally emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market.
+ Across the street, as he had expected, was Marvelo’s Marvelous
+ MurderSticks, a quaint place should one needed something, well
+ you get the picture, they don’t really sell anything but
+ weaponry here. Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode
+ towards the back rack, where a collection of knives was on
+ display. A rough looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning
+ hair, moved from the counter as he saw Alex approach. “Fine
+ sampling of knives we have, could I interest you in one?”
+ Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin stilleto style dagger,
+ and hands it to Marvelo “This one seems about right, but I’d
+ like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you don’t mind”.
+ Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say “Not a problem at all
+ sir”, and he heads into the back. He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he
+ places it on his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from
+ a stack, he deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled
+ piece of paper into the bottom, alongside an m1911 style
+ pistol, and a couple of clips of ammo. He then places the
+ velvet bottom back over the equipment, and places the stilleto
+ on top, bringing the entire package back to the front. “An
+ extra fine edge on this one sir, that’ll be 15 gold, plus
+ another 5 to cover the service. Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back
+ alley. Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to
+ himself as he disassembles the box holstering the pistol and
+ ammo, and sheathing the dagger. Can’t keep going unarmed like
+ I’m some kind of beat cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the
+ case and unfurls the message, quickly deciphering the
+ encryption set on it by Marvelo. Alex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley,
+ taking a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping
+ back around, and heading back towards it by yet another.
+ Nobody appeared to be following him, yet he paused at each
+ corner and turn, waiting for the footsteps of a pursuant. Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance
+ of Enrique’s Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial.
+ “Enrique, where’s Inky? We’ve got a problem.” Alex faces down the howling apparition—pistol in one hand,
- amulet in the other—daring and defiant. The wind engulfs him, swirls around him, wraps him in its
- embrace, and presses him to its bosom. ~ While Master Alex faces the screaming presence overhead,
- Inky steps over to where Marvelo is slumped against the wall.
- Working quickly, they wipe the blood on the agent’s face with
- a clean kerchief and antiseptic, then gently realign the
- shattered jaw, wrapping bandages around his head to hold it in
- place. They pull a blanket laying on the ground nearby over
- his body before getting to their feet again. At the mention of Neddas, they tense minutely before
- turning away to stand in a corner, gloved hands in their coat
- pockets, a quiet witness to the ensuing confrontation. Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the
+ items and exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of
+ meeting Bother at the place stipulated on the note. (Half and one hour later) One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky
+ runs into Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains
+ some of their new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for
+ the convenience of late-night tourists. These are subsequently
+ hare-mailed to every editor at the Niuewstijl office,
+ which is almost certain to earn another chiding remark from
+ Tess about etiquette and the handling of unsolicited bulk mail
+ to parent editorial teams. (Half and two hours later) The installation on display at the Milk Market was
+ grotesque — that is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps
+ carefully through the rooms to not disturb the piece.
+ Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set up on an upturned milk
+ crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows of horse head and
+ thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled “you can’t ed
+ the unedible”. (Half and three hours earlier) Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of
+ paper on which were written a few questions about the
+ prescribed ritual, with some space after each question should
+ the witch prefer to scribble a response: What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
+ typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
+ correct pocket dimension? An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
+ evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
+ to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
+ seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
+ time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
+ establishment while it is open? Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
+ ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them? Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
+ sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake
+ up? (Half and four hours later) Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin.
+ One accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation,
+ following the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white
+ pockets of fat as they tumble into a hot pan and almost
+ immediately begin to move of their own accord. The moving
+ mounds resemble small round mouths opening, each with a rim of
+ sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes belongs to a grinning face
+ that beams when the mounds bloom into bright red flat caps,
+ the edges beneath about to soften in the olive oil. Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate
+ of tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes
+ with a murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the
+ tinned spicy artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process —
+ someone had ripped out the pages from an old pickling book
+ that had long ceased publication. Eventually Inky found a
+ former nomad who had eaten them for two years in their youth
+ and could recall or somewhat describe the taste. Flowery and
+ savoury, they said. Many taste tests later, it turned out to
+ be closer to partially decomposed cheese in ponderosa lemon
+ juice. Canning was fortuitously easier with the increasing
+ portability of sealers. Rather than telling the empanada chef
+ any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread across
+ his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining. (Half and five hours later) While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea
+ infusion since the start of the missions, not that Inky was
+ keeping a close count, they hear a familiar voice a short
+ distance outside the door asking for their whereabouts.
+ Without pausing in their whisking, Inky simply informs the
+ owner of the voice they’re not here, obviously, before
+ emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot and bowls on
+ a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer. Inky continues to patch up Marvelo and watches as the
- nightmare chooses its new vessel. Flesh and bone start to materialize around Alex as the
- Nyxmaer tries to encase him in its ribcage and grow a new
- body. The creature starts to take shape, but falters at the
- threshold of creation. It appears to you as though through a
- smoky haze, or from the bottom of a murky well. Something is
- holding it back from materializing. It thrashes and redoubles its efforts, desperate to be
- born. Alex stands still in the eye of its storm. You see the
- Nyxmaer’s tiny face take shape in the small cyclone. It roars
- as Alex lifts the amulet, and fires his pistol. The demon’s pinched face wails as the wind no longer
- presses in on Alex from all sides but is suddenly
- yanked toward him. The struggling body collapses and
- folds in on itself. The wind goes out of the room as the
- amulet inhales the Nyxmaer and all its fury. And then all is quiet. Marvelo looks up at Inky and whimpers. A heavy paper envelope, disturbed by the wind, settles to
- the ground. It was torn open in the commotion, and two tickets
- spill out: “The bearer of this ticket is entitled to an all
- expenses paid trip to the moon.” It is signed by Blavin
- Blandfoot and bears the seal of the Benefactor. 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. Agate writes back quickly: 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.” What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
+ typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
+ correct pocket dimension? 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?” Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams. 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. An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
+ evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
+ to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
+ seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
+ time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
+ establishment while it is open? You’ll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside.
+ You’ll likely arrive exactly when you’re meant to. No need to
+ worry too much about it. Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
+ ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them? “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.” Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream
+ Sigil, respectively. It’s not terrible if they show
+ up. But it’s definitely not ideal. You shouldn’t register on
+ their radar as long as you don’t pump too much energy into, or
+ siphon to much energy out of, the sigils. If they do show up,
+ just know that you’re in the presence of a godlike power, and
+ behave accordingly. Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
+ sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up? “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. If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken,
+ you’ll likely just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for
+ if your dreamform is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only
+ real danger you may encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk.
+ They will attempt to permanently sever your dreamform from
+ your waking body. Which would leave your body a soulless husk,
+ and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But
+ that probably won’t happen! Okay good luck, have fun! WHAT DO YOU DO Back at the fish market, Marvelo squints into the pouring
+ rain and swears under his breath, frustrated at the limited
+ visibility. His colleague is lying on the floor behind him in some kind
+ of state of deeply altered consciousness, along with an
+ inkling, a toque, and an owl. In fact, the only waking beings
+ left inside the market are himself, a fluffy little duck, and
+ a sticky hemogoblin. “I’ve seen stranger things,” he shrugs and admits to
+ himself. The duck and the goblin are both fluffed up and huddled up
+ next to each other softly quacking and chirping to
+ themselves. He pauses and holds his breath as something indistinct
+ catches his attention. Years of training have produced an
+ instinct he has learned not to question. It has saved his butt
+ more times than he can count. Sometimes it screams at him and
+ the danger is apparent. Like that time with the Permian
+ Raiders off the southern tip of Harshwind Glade. Other times,
+ such as this, all he gets is the vague feeling that something
+ is off. He waits. He’s been here before. His subconscious has
+ spotted something, noticed some pattern that doesn’t fit its
+ surroundings. He knows if he’s patient, his conscious mind
+ will catch up and realize what it was. He squints out into the pouring rain. There! A flash of red
+ close to the ground. “What in the world,” he wonders as a small child wearing a
+ bright red dress toddles into view. It looks up at him blankly
+ as the rain beats down on its head and shoulders. “What are you doing out here, little guy? You’re getting
+ soaked!” Marvelo, concerned, rushes forward to comfort the
+ child. Inky gingerly takes the coin with both hands, small digits
+ clamping onto the straight edges. They look at the Twenty-one
+ Fiver nestled against the fuzzy outlines of one palm before
+ peering up again at the figure seated before them. “Thank you,
+ Great Spirit.” Inky says. “If truly allowed to choose, then,
+ this one accepts the price.” They toss the coin up into the air. A beat, and they are
+ hovering a few feet above the tracks, between the fork and the
+ oncoming train with no walls. Inky watches as the child’s body
+ begins to shrink as rapidly as the black uniform expands, the
+ entire apparition thinning and becoming translucent. The shirt
+ continues to grow until the hem brushes the train tracks and
+ the collar peeks over the invisible tops of the train, the
+ trousers and shoes having been pushed into the stones and
+ earth below. A portal, the child’s voice supplies distantly. At the back
+ of their awareness, Inky homes in on the coin as it continues
+ to spin. When the train thunders down upon the oversized shirt
+ doorway-apparent, they brace for the force of the impact.
+ Instead, all they could feel is a creeping weariness, like
+ water draining through tea leaves in a sieve, while being
+ suddenly surrounded by and staring into a deep reflectionless
+ pool. Is it two to two, or two past eight, Inky wonders. The last thing within their consciousness is a gleam of
+ silver as the coin lands on one of its corners mid-spin,
+ bounces off the small half table and falls into the
+ shadows. You sink into the dark reflectionless pool, letting its
+ waters close over you and pull you under. You ponder its
+ depths from within in its embrace, mindless of the passage of
+ time. After a few minutes, or a few days, you notice faint light
+ rising up here and there from below. Fuzzy, cobwebby human
+ shapes float suspended in the waters. Some far away, distant
+ as stars. Some drift close enough that you would be able to
+ discern their features, if they had any. You realize all at once that these are the dream forms of
+ sleeping Basmentarians everywhere, and that you are floating
+ in Ousia, a solitary awakened dreamer in a literal sea of the
+ passive slumbering. As though responding to your realization, the waters bear
+ you up and you pierce the weak membrane between water and air.
+ You float effortlessly and the gentle waves nudge you ever
+ onward toward some unknown shore. Or merely farther out to
+ sea. You’re not sure. You continue to see the dreamers all around you. You watch
+ curiously as you float by two that seem to have bumped into
+ one another and fused together, their cobwebby bodies
+ sprouting hard crystalline growths and spreading like creeping
+ vines, forming a lattice and creating a small floating
+ island. After a few hours, or a few weeks, you wash up on the beach
+ of a large island. There is a steep rock, a pillar of a
+ mountain, jutting straight up from the center of the island
+ some distance ahead. And jutting from the pillar is a fractal
+ structure of interconnected towers, all sprouting and
+ branching from one large central tower. The top of the tower
+ disappears far overhead, obscured by a rippling aurora of
+ green and pink lights in the sky. Some distance down the beach, just out of hailing distance,
+ a lone figure stands gazing at the sea, their back to the
+ tower. The figure waits. The tower’s strange geometry beckons. Kasutva, how can I know that I can trust you? What do you
+ gain in helping me, and was there really no way for you to
+ communicate with me without beheading yourself? That seems a
+ little bit distraughting. Like, do you need a bandage or some
+ headache medicine or something? I feel like if I yanked my
+ face off I’d need an ibuprofen. I have some if you want? (alex
+ rummages in a coat pocket and finds a bottle of pain killers,
+ and offers them to the being). Right anyways, answers questions. I’m looking for my Uncle
+ first and foremost. He dropped off the map a few days ago, and
+ I can’t find hide nor hair of him. Then the murders started.
+ Shit at HQ when wild, hit the wall literally, and now I’m in
+ some sort of fever dream talking to what can only be a
+ manifestation of my own subconscious, or perhaps someone
+ else’s. Look. I need to get back to Inky, we’re trying to meet
+ someone and we’re running late, and in the scheme of things my
+ problems aren’t so big if the world’s going to end because
+ some mad hatter is after these blasted crystal’s we’ve been
+ collecting.. Even as you speak, you notice the edges of Big Kasutva’s
+ “wounds” start to close until its flesh begins to once more
+ envelop and enclose its face. The creature courteously accepts a few pills from you, but
+ simply deposits them in its satchel. “No, it doesn’t hurt us,” say the two voices together. “And
+ little matter if it did. It is necessary for us to speak.” They listen to your story. Big Kasutva’s voice starts to
+ become muffled as its skin now grows over its mouth. Only its
+ eyes are visible as the two of them continue. “If your Inky
+ has come to this place, then there is only one place they can
+ have gone.” They gesture to the sea. “And that place is
+ Ephemeris. The Heart of the Dreaming at the center of
+ Ousia.” Big Kasutva finally falls silent as it heals completely. It
+ guides you to the shoreline, where a long pier has suddenly
+ appeared. Mushroom Kasutva continues to speak for both of
+ them. “We only ask to accompany you as you go. We wish to see
+ Ephemeris ourselves. But we cannot abandon our post here on
+ the dunes,” it says looking at Big Kasutva. “And we,” it says
+ gesturing to itself, “are too small to brave the sea
+ alone.” Big Kasutva stops short of the end of the pier. The little
+ mushroom hops right up to the edge and peers down at the
+ water. “All that is left is to jump, Alex. And let the waters of
+ Ousia bear you up and carry you to Ephemeris.” It hops up to you and extends itself in a clear request,
+ despite its lack of limbs, that it wants you to pick it
+ up. WHAT DO YOU DO Back at the fish market, Marvelo squints into the pouring
- rain and swears under his breath, frustrated at the limited
- visibility. His colleague is lying on the floor behind him in some kind
- of state of deeply altered consciousness, along with an
- inkling, a toque, and an owl. In fact, the only waking beings
- left inside the market are himself, a fluffy little duck, and
- a sticky hemogoblin. “I’ve seen stranger things,” he shrugs and admits to
- himself. The duck and the goblin are both fluffed up and huddled up
- next to each other softly quacking and chirping to
- themselves. He pauses and holds his breath as something indistinct
- catches his attention. Years of training have produced an
- instinct he has learned not to question. It has saved his butt
- more times than he can count. Sometimes it screams at him and
- the danger is apparent. Like that time with the Permian
- Raiders off the southern tip of Harshwind Glade. Other times,
- such as this, all he gets is the vague feeling that something
- is off. He waits. He’s been here before. His subconscious has
- spotted something, noticed some pattern that doesn’t fit its
- surroundings. He knows if he’s patient, his conscious mind
- will catch up and realize what it was. He squints out into the pouring rain. There! A flash of red
- close to the ground. “What in the world,” he wonders as a small child wearing a
- bright red dress toddles into view. It looks up at him blankly
- as the rain beats down on its head and shoulders. “What are you doing out here, little guy? You’re getting
- soaked!” Marvelo, concerned, rushes forward to comfort the
- child. Alex the Octopus and Inky the Noogle stand on a tree branch
+ as wide a street in the heart of the great white upside-down
+ forest. A cry of anguish and anger echoes through the forest, and
+ the branches below you sway and rustle as something rises up
+ from the depths. You keep catching a glimpse of scarlet
+ between the silvery white leaves. The large black ravens perched below you scream in
+ agitation and fly up past you to the thicker branches up
+ above, where they hop side to side and loudly scold and
+ protest the disturbance. A single black feather the length of
+ your hand settles to the ground at your feet, knocked loose
+ during their flight. You finally see the fearsome beast crashing through the
+ branches below you. Its crazed, yellow eyes as large and round
+ as dinner plates, a great eight-legged rodent leaps from
+ branch to branch as it swiftly ascends. It is a bloody,
+ crimson red. Its long tufted ears lay flat against its
+ elongated, grinning skull. Its ribbon-like tail twitches as it
+ trails along behind it like a river of blood. It cries out
+ again in anger, showing its overgrown incisors, and grinds and
+ gnashes its back teeth. Its eyes bore into you with wild fury and blind madness as
+ it climbs. “She’s not herself,” sighs the chipmunk, suddenly at your
+ side once more. When you look down at the chipmunk, however,
+ it has suddenly turned into a small featureless black turtle
+ with a sticky sweet roll instead of a shell. Its smooth little
+ head pokes timidly out of the roll. “The Red Squirrel,” laments the turtle. “She’s being ridden
+ by a ghost. An angry ghost who isn’t from here. Somebody left
+ the door open, and it blew in on the breeze.” The turtle’s
+ voice trails off until its final words are barely a
+ whisper. You can still feel two currents tugging at you and trying
+ to pull you under. One inward toward your host’s deep, core
+ memories. And the second pulling you outward toward the Sea of
+ Dreams. You have but a moment before the Red Squirrel is upon
+ you. 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. Inky gingerly takes the coin with both hands, small digits
- clamping onto the straight edges. They look at the Twenty-one
- Fiver nestled against the fuzzy outlines of one palm before
- peering up again at the figure seated before them. “Thank you,
- Great Spirit.” Inky says. “If truly allowed to choose, then,
- this one accepts the price.” They toss the coin up into the air. A beat, and they are
- hovering a few feet above the tracks, between the fork and the
- oncoming train with no walls. Inky watches as the child’s body
- begins to shrink as rapidly as the black uniform expands, the
- entire apparition thinning and becoming translucent. The shirt
- continues to grow until the hem brushes the train tracks and
- the collar peeks over the invisible tops of the train, the
- trousers and shoes having been pushed into the stones and
- earth below. A portal, the child’s voice supplies distantly. At the back
- of their awareness, Inky homes in on the coin as it continues
- to spin. When the train thunders down upon the oversized shirt
- doorway-apparent, they brace for the force of the impact.
- Instead, all they could feel is a creeping weariness, like
- water draining through tea leaves in a sieve, while being
- suddenly surrounded by and staring into a deep reflectionless
- pool. Is it two to two, or two past eight, Inky wonders. The last thing within their consciousness is a gleam of
- silver as the coin lands on one of its corners mid-spin,
- bounces off the small half table and falls into the
- shadows. 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.” You sink into the dark reflectionless pool, letting its
- waters close over you and pull you under. You ponder its
- depths from within in its embrace, mindless of the passage of
- time. After a few minutes, or a few days, you notice faint light
- rising up here and there from below. Fuzzy, cobwebby human
- shapes float suspended in the waters. Some far away, distant
- as stars. Some drift close enough that you would be able to
- discern their features, if they had any. You realize all at once that these are the dream forms of
- sleeping Basmentarians everywhere, and that you are floating
- in Ousia, a solitary awakened dreamer in a literal sea of the
- passive slumbering. As though responding to your realization, the waters bear
- you up and you pierce the weak membrane between water and air.
- You float effortlessly and the gentle waves nudge you ever
- onward toward some unknown shore. Or merely farther out to
- sea. You’re not sure. You continue to see the dreamers all around you. You watch
- curiously as you float by two that seem to have bumped into
- one another and fused together, their cobwebby bodies
- sprouting hard crystalline growths and spreading like creeping
- vines, forming a lattice and creating a small floating
- island. After a few hours, or a few weeks, you wash up on the beach
- of a large island. There is a steep rock, a pillar of a
- mountain, jutting straight up from the center of the island
- some distance ahead. And jutting from the pillar is a fractal
- structure of interconnected towers, all sprouting and
- branching from one large central tower. The top of the tower
- disappears far overhead, obscured by a rippling aurora of
- green and pink lights in the sky. Some distance down the beach, just out of hailing distance,
- a lone figure stands gazing at the sea, their back to the
- tower. The figure waits. The tower’s strange geometry beckons. 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?” Kasutva, how can I know that I can trust you? What do you
- gain in helping me, and was there really no way for you to
- communicate with me without beheading yourself? That seems a
- little bit distraughting. Like, do you need a bandage or some
- headache medicine or something? I feel like if I yanked my
- face off I’d need an ibuprofen. I have some if you want? (alex
- rummages in a coat pocket and finds a bottle of pain killers,
- and offers them to the being). Right anyways, answers questions. I’m looking for my Uncle
- first and foremost. He dropped off the map a few days ago, and
- I can’t find hide nor hair of him. Then the murders started.
- Shit at HQ when wild, hit the wall literally, and now I’m in
- some sort of fever dream talking to what can only be a
- manifestation of my own subconscious, or perhaps someone
- else’s. Look. I need to get back to Inky, we’re trying to meet
- someone and we’re running late, and in the scheme of things my
- problems aren’t so big if the world’s going to end because
- some mad hatter is after these blasted crystal’s we’ve been
- collecting.. 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. Even as you speak, you notice the edges of Big Kasutva’s
- “wounds” start to close until its flesh begins to once more
- envelop and enclose its face. The creature courteously accepts a few pills from you, but
- simply deposits them in its satchel. “No, it doesn’t hurt us,” say the two voices together. “And
- little matter if it did. It is necessary for us to speak.” They listen to your story. Big Kasutva’s voice starts to
- become muffled as its skin now grows over its mouth. Only its
- eyes are visible as the two of them continue. “If your Inky
- has come to this place, then there is only one place they can
- have gone.” They gesture to the sea. “And that place is
- Ephemeris. The Heart of the Dreaming at the center of
- Ousia.” Big Kasutva finally falls silent as it heals completely. It
- guides you to the shoreline, where a long pier has suddenly
- appeared. Mushroom Kasutva continues to speak for both of
- them. “We only ask to accompany you as you go. We wish to see
- Ephemeris ourselves. But we cannot abandon our post here on
- the dunes,” it says looking at Big Kasutva. “And we,” it says
- gesturing to itself, “are too small to brave the sea
- alone.” Big Kasutva stops short of the end of the pier. The little
- mushroom hops right up to the edge and peers down at the
- water. “All that is left is to jump, Alex. And let the waters of
- Ousia bear you up and carry you to Ephemeris.” It hops up to you and extends itself in a clear request,
- despite its lack of limbs, that it wants you to pick it
- up. “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 Neddas loves mortals. Possibly more than they love
+ themself. It’s why they’ve diminished their own divinity over
+ the eons by freely giving parts of themself away—gifting tiny
+ aspects of themself to the mortals. Part of their constant
+ delight in doing so is that even with their divine wisdom they
+ can never quite be sure what any mortal or mortals will
+ actually do with a sliver of godhood, with a divine spark.
+ Consequently they have a lot of experience with giving what
+ they thought is a perfect gift only for it to be misused, or
+ for it to backfire in some unexpected way. The Sword of Y’aml is a prime example. Justice without
+ Wisom turned out to be a cruel weapon, seeing evil everywhere
+ and smiting it on sight. And Wisdom itself proved as impotent
+ as Justice was overzealous: it became as cold and as cruel in
+ its own way, locked away in ivory towers, refusing to
+ intervene, made lame by theory and academia. So now, in this moment, Neddas watches closely to see if
+ they finally got it right. Does this mortal have not only the
+ Wisdom to know what to do, but also the Courage to do it in
+ the name of Justice? Alex rushes to Marvelo’s side and quickly begins to
+ administer medicine to him. “Sorry old friend, it’s not much
+ considering the wound, but it should help you at least stay
+ lucid” Alex says as he administers the medicine Inky gave him.
+ He takes quick stock of Marvelo’s wound, most of his teeth are
+ gone, his jaw is horribly disfigured, it’s doubtful if it’ll
+ heal properly. At best he’ll need prostethics, potentially a
+ full mechanical jaw. It is essentially a death knell in this
+ kind of work, the perfect normality Marvelo had always strove
+ for would be forever marred by his sudden abnormality. Alex
+ shakes his head, “It’s fine Marv, I’m positive we can get this
+ fixed, no worse than at wound Agent 3 took in Cosovo, remember
+ that one? Hell of a thing that” Alex grins grimly, casting a
+ glance over his shoulder. “Alright, you should be set old
+ friend, best I can do for now.” Alex hands him back his
+ blaster and sits him up against the wall, the bleeding
+ staunched, but the magled jaw not much better. Alex stands, reloads his pistol, and turns to face the
+ malevolent apparition. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, or what the
+ fuck you think you’re doing. But nobody, and I mean nobody,
+ messes with my agents, my friends.” Alex approaches the
+ apparition, pistol gripped in one hand, and the crystal
+ pendant Neddas gave him held tight in the other. “Alright
+ Neddas, you said you’d give me something I could protect my
+ friends with. Don’t think I believe in it much, but I’d of
+ said until about 15 minutes ago that candles don’t produce
+ macabre dentists either.” Alex stands before the apparition,
+ daring it to move, come and try me if you dare. Alex faces down the howling apparition—pistol in one hand,
+ amulet in the other—daring and defiant. The wind engulfs him, swirls around him, wraps him in its
+ embrace, and presses him to its bosom. While Master Alex faces the screaming presence overhead,
+ Inky steps over to where Marvelo is slumped against the wall.
+ Working quickly, they wipe the blood on the agent’s face with
+ a clean kerchief and antiseptic, then gently realign the
+ shattered jaw, wrapping bandages around his head to hold it in
+ place. They pull a blanket laying on the ground nearby over
+ his body before getting to their feet again. At the mention of Neddas, they tense minutely before
+ turning away to stand in a corner, gloved hands in their coat
+ pockets, a quiet witness to the ensuing confrontation. Inky continues to patch up Marvelo and watches as the
+ nightmare chooses its new vessel. Flesh and bone start to materialize around Alex as the
+ Nyxmaer tries to encase him in its ribcage and grow a new
+ body. The creature starts to take shape, but falters at the
+ threshold of creation. It appears to you as though through a
+ smoky haze, or from the bottom of a murky well. Something is
+ holding it back from materializing. It thrashes and redoubles its efforts, desperate to be
+ born. Alex stands still in the eye of its storm. You see the
+ Nyxmaer’s tiny face take shape in the small cyclone. It roars
+ as Alex lifts the amulet, and fires his pistol. The demon’s pinched face wails as the wind no longer
+ presses in on Alex from all sides but is suddenly
+ yanked toward him. The struggling body collapses and
+ folds in on itself. The wind goes out of the room as the
+ amulet inhales the Nyxmaer and all its fury. And then all is quiet. Marvelo looks up at Inky and whimpers. A heavy paper envelope, disturbed by the wind, settles to
+ the ground. It was torn open in the commotion, and two tickets
+ spill out: “The bearer of this ticket is entitled to an all
+ expenses paid trip to the moon.” It is signed by Blavin
+ Blandfoot and bears the seal of the Benefactor. WHAT DO YOU DO The fingertips of the Nyxmaer graze the eye and an eldritch
- wind begins to howl inside the fish market. It whips around and around inside the ritual circle,
- flipping blankets and tossing pillows. The dreamers also toss
- and turn in their sleep, but still do not wake. The foul wind
- tugs at their hair and at their clothing. The small candles around the edge of the circle go out,
- plunging the room into near darkness. The dark flame of the
- demon candle sputters. The wind screams as it pushes through the small smudged gap
- in the circle and out onto the floor of the market. It coils
- around Rind’s feet and teases at the hem of the child’s dress.
- It ruffles the duck’s feathers. The fingertips flick over the eye, caress it, draw it
- close. And finally its fist closes tightly around it. The last candle goes out, plunging the room into darkness.
- The wind and the sirens stop all at once, and in the silence
- all that can be heard is the steady rain outside. “Look Trine or not, I need a little more than this. I ain’t
- nobodies errand boy, and insofar as I can tell either the Gods
- are dead, or they haven’t given a rats ass about me or anyone
- else. What’s more, you’re claiming to be some sort of
- divinity, yet you can only manifest here amongst my
- nightmares, the same ones I learned years ago to shut out. You
- never forget the face of your first mark, but what they don’t
- tell you is it doesn’t have to haunt you either.” Alex looks
- directly at the apparition. “But I’m reasonable too. Give me some proof you say what
- you are. You say you have power to share? Well power I need. I
- have people to protect, and an unclue to rescue. I’ll be
- damned if I let anything happen to them. Yet here I am, stuck
- in this god firsaken place chittering away with my own
- subconcious getting attacked by freaking mushrooms
- people.” “Just give it to me straight Neddas, what assistance are
- you offering, and what must I give in return? If you an
- guarantee me a way to protect those close to me, I don’t give
- a rats ass about the rest.” Neddas silently holds your gaze for a long moment. “What you ask of me is fair, since I am asking so much of
- you.” They hold out their hands and present you with a stone
- amulet. It slightly resembles the Ginnarak Crystals. Much
- smaller. And more almond shaped than melon shaped. But it is
- the same shade of blue, with the same veins of slightly
- pulsating gold throughout. It hangs from a fine chain of small
- silver links. “As long as this stone is in your possession, you will find
- you have the courage to do what you think is right. Be aware
- that it is a piece of me. And those who know about it will try
- to take it from you.” In the distance you can hear alarms and terrible moans
- carried on a howling wind. ~ Corraidhín impatiently flips over the first three tumbrot
- cards in front of Inky: A tall man looks from a battlemented roof over sea and
- shore; he holds a globe in his right hand, while a staff in
- his left rests on the battlement; another is fixed in a ring.
- The Rose and Cross and Lily should be noticed on the left
- side. Strange chalices of vision, but the images are more
- especially those of the fantastic spirit. A ferryman carrying passengers in his punt to the
- further shore. The course is smooth, and seeing that the
- freight is light, it may be noted that the work is not beyond
- his strength. Felixe the Cat passes the two six-sided tumbrot dice to
- Inky and recites a small pome for the inkling: You can suddenly hear an ominous wind whistling outside the
- club and battering at the windows. “Well?” Balvin prompts. “What do you do?” Alex grabs the envelope from in front of him and rushes to
+ check on Inky and Marvelo. “Are you two alright?” he asks as
+ he notes the patch job Inky performed. “Thank you Inky, I
+ understand why my uncle trusted you so much.” he said
+ sincerely. Inky was far better a healer than Alex could ever
+ hope to be. He steps away, noting there’s not much he can do after Inky
+ gives their response. Marv is stable, but not much a talker at
+ the moment. He proceeds to check on the duck, the child Rind,
+ and the hemogoblin. The little hemogoblin burbbles happily and
+ climbs up to sit on Alex’s shoulder, tugging lightly at the
+ cord which suspended the gem Neddas gave him, now worn around
+ his neck. “Best not mess with that one little one, I’m not
+ sure what the hell just happened, but I don’t trust it. Or any
+ of this eldritch mumbo jumbo..” Rind is quiet pensive, and doesn’t respond much when Alex
+ attempts to interact. “Inky, do you think you can look after
+ this one when you get a second? I’m going to check on the
+ sleeping bloke.” Alex carefully makes his way back towards the circle,
+ making sure not to cross over it. He quietly inspects their
+ unwelcomed guest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I ought to put a
+ bullet through your skull where you lay you sick son of a
+ bitch. How dare you sneak up on my friends like that.” Alex
+ racks his pistol, noting there’s a bullet in the chamber, and
+ levels it at the silk assassin. “Inky, unless you have
+ objections, I’m going to tie up some loose ends..” Alex says
+ grimly. ~ “It’s just basic first aid, Master Alex. Any old
+ adventuring sod on the street can do it. Thank you for the
+ thought, though.” Inky replies. “However, very few people can
+ pull off what you just did. That was a remarkable feat.” They take a long look at the child, then beckon their
+ marketing manager closer, crouching down next to them to speak
+ softly and slowly to the child. “I guess you’ve already met
+ duck. You’re friends, right? But did you know that duck is a
+ really good listener? Whenever you’re sad or scared, you can
+ tell duck. Duck always knows what to do. If you let duck give
+ you a hug, duck can help you feel better too.” They guide the
+ child’s hands to the duck’s back and let them rest there,
+ watching for a moment as small, thin fingers begin to stroke
+ the feathers of their own accord. At the sysorcerer’s direct address, they look over to him
+ and their slumbering visitor’s form. “Do as you like, Master
+ Alex.” Inky says tonelessly. They add in a low voice, “In all
+ likelihood he will be unable to cause trouble this side again.
+ If he has not woken up now that the candle’s spell has broken,
+ he probably never will. Maybe justice has already been served,
+ or the Scissorfolk got to him. Mercy is an unpopular idea of
+ late though, and I’m hardly in a position to ask anyone to
+ ponder its meaning.” They frown at the body. “Speaking of which, the
+ ever-resourceful case manager has another proposal for you to
+ consider, having gone as far as to recruit a local celebrity
+ you know well to speak to his cause. His group, the Golden
+ Iris, wants the crystals for the purpose of conferring
+ divinity upon the Corn Mother Sitopotnia and making knowledge
+ of the process available to all. No doubt he’ll be expecting a
+ response to his offer soon. But I see you have already made
+ your choice.” Inky offers the sysorcerer a resigned smile. The sound of tapping on glass interrupts Inky’s next words.
+ They look in the direction of the window to see the scops owl
+ outside with a weatherproof pouch in its beak. Inky walks over
+ to the window, wedging it open just wide enough to allow the
+ bird to hop in and takes the pouch. A tiny smirk makes its way
+ to Inky’s face when they return the owl’s searching stare,
+ despite an attempt to look stern and failing. “He let you out,
+ hmm? All right, in a minute,” Inky murmurs to the newly
+ arrived messenger, while pulling out an envelope from the
+ pouch. As the small owl sets itself on the imp’s right
+ shoulder like it belonged there, said imp half-turns to Master
+ Alex, expression serious again. “One more thing.” They place the detonator, followed by the
+ envelope, on top of a stack of pillows a few paces from the
+ sysorcerer. It is identical in appearance to the one they had
+ presented to Master Corraidhín in the Dreaming. “Since you weren’t at the meeting, I offered to take a
+ message from your uncle presumptive. Fuko’s caretaker has a
+ contraption that can print copies of notes written on special
+ paper after showing them to the twins. It has come in handy on
+ occasion in remote areas with few or no amenities,” Inky
+ explains. “Anyway, I don’t know if he wrote anything, or if he
+ was truly Master Corraidhín. Fuko handled the rest and I
+ didn’t ask her amid the hustle. It could be a blank sheet and
+ everything I just said was probably a terrible joke. He did
+ seem genuinely glum you couldn’t be there, though.” They
+ shrug. “You know what to do from here. Now, if you’ll excuse
+ me, I would very much like some fresh air.” With those parting
+ words and walking stick in hand, Inky strides quickly from the
+ room, out of the dilapidated building and into the drizzling
+ rain. ~ Alex gripped his pistol as Inky walked away, her words
+ ringing in his ears “you have already made your choice. The
+ statement brings pause, a flicker of doubt, and a frown mars
+ Alex’s face. As Inky shuts the door behind her Alex lets out a
+ discontented sigh, what was it Uncle had said? “A man’s fate, is wrought by his own hand” Alex looked at the sleeping man before him, the pistol in
+ his hand, Marvelo’s blood spattered haphazardly across his
+ gloves and trench coat. Was more blood really the answer?
+ Would killing this man right the wrong done against Alex? Or
+ his agents? Would their dangerous game get any less
+ dangerous? A single shot rang out from the warehouse, the bullet lodge
+ harmlessly amongst pillows and blankets. The pistol cast
+ aside, resting next to the bestilled assassin, with a small
+ note afixed to it. ‘Your fate is wrought by your own hand, not mine. - Agent
+ 4’ Alex gathers himself, discontented, and pulls the letter
+ Inky gave him open. Inside was Uncle’s familiar writing, in
+ the simple cypher he’d used when Alex was just a boy. Alex shakes as he folds the letter back into the envelope
+ and presses it gently against his breast coat pocket. “I’m
+ coming Uncle”, he whispers as he strides across the room and
+ into the rainy night. He catches up with Inky a little down the dock, and comes
+ to sit beside her on the wharf. The patter of rain hitting
+ heavily dampened planks and stone resounding around them. “Inky.. thank you. For the letter, but also your
+ friendship.” Alex casts a side long glance towards Inky, and
+ he begins to describe his dream sequence in a rambling sort of
+ way. As he nears the end, “And that Neddas gave me this stone,
+ he said gesturing to the necklace he wore. But I’d of told you
+ it was bullshit before any of this happened. And now you’re
+ telling me there are factions, Blavin, the Benefactor, hell I
+ guess us, all vying for control of these crystals. I don’t
+ know what to do, or what any of it means, but I know we can
+ forge our own path in this, the rest of it be damned!” Alex sighs heavily. “I couldn’t kill the assassin. He
+ killed one of my men, almost killed Marvelo. He’d of killed us
+ if he hadn’t gotten caught in that magic. I don’t know if I
+ have it in me Inky, I’m not sure I can keep staring into the
+ abyss without tipping over the edge.” “Everything was a little easier when it was just the
+ agency, hunting down the bad guys. We had the data, knew the
+ crimes. All of this though?” he gestures broadly towards the
+ sea in front of them “is about as clear as a ship on these
+ waters. There’s no light to guide us. And all I want is my
+ Uncle back.” Alex sighs heavily again and hands the envelope from Blavin
+ to Inky, “and it doesn’t look like it ends here, Blavin wants
+ us to head to the moon, but I’m not so sure we should
+ go..” ~ The imp remains quiet for a long time, staring out into the
+ open sea. Eventually, Inky says, “I cannot tell you what to do.” They look at the envelope but make no move to take it. “You already have the Fair One’s blessing. Combined with
+ your talents, fortitude and determination, success is more or
+ less assured if you decide to go. If you decide not to, maybe
+ Master Corraidhín will turn up on his own again when he is
+ sufficiently recovered — if he does not run off to collect the
+ remainder of the crystals himself.” Inky chuckles at that.
+ “Master Alex is such a thoughtful nephew, not wanting to
+ deprive his uncle of his fun.” They lean back on their hands and study Master Alex under
+ half-lidded eyes. “You really are like your uncle.” A few
+ beats pass, and they turn their attention upwards to the sky,
+ tilting their head up towards the errant raindrops and cool
+ winds blowing in from across the waters. In the days that follow, you move Marvelo into the Milk
- Market to care for him.00063
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ In the superior world it is
+A young man, leaning on his
+to indicate therein. It is
+speaking, to the traditional
+red standard has been
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ ]]>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ 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
+
+
+
+ ]]>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ "sgb rpthqqbk hr qba sgb fgnrsr dktb
+sgb qnkkr rwbbs uma rn uqb ynt
+sgnt uqs ly fthahmf rsuq ul h sghmb
+h rbb vbqhky ly utrohehntr rhfm
+sgb kns wur snrra uma sgbm h aqbw
+uma cnqstmb ruha hs rgnta db ynt ott"[1]
+ [1]:
+"The squirrel is red, the ghost's blue,
+The roll's sweet, and so are you.
+Thou art my guiding star, am I thine?
+I see verily my auspicious sign:
+The lot was toss'd and then I drew,
+And Fortune said it shou'd be you. Puu."
+
+
+
+
+ #!/bin/ash
+sleepy=true
+
+sleep() {
+ while sleepy; do
+ sleep(10)
+ done
+}
+
+trap sleep INT EXIT
+
+ 00056
-
-
+ The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet.
+Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the "Milk Market" these past few days.
+Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends.
+Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors
+Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal
+Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advised
-
-
+
+
-
-
- 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
+
-
+
+
+
+ 00061
+
-
-
+ 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
+
+
+
+
-
-
-
-
-
-
- In the superior world it is
-A young man, leaning on his
-to indicate therein. It is
-speaking, to the traditional
-red standard has been
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+I have only a moment to pen this, and I don't know if it'll reach
+you, but I trust Inky will try.
+
+I am very much alive, rest assured, but the where I haven't yet
+pieced together. Blavin has my physical and metaphysical form
+trapped. And he has the second crystal.
+
+But don't worry, if you're looking as Inky claimed, I rest well
+knowing my unrelenting rebel will raise hell itself to find me.
+
+Remember, son, we write our own fate.
+
+- 10
+
The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay’Nullar (a dwrlugh who—as is - the case with its kind—refuses to go by any given name) makes - a rare appearance outside of its forge to present Marvelo with - a new artificial jaw made of polished granite and bronze. It - will never be mistaken for flesh, but it does somewhat + traditional among its kind—refuses to go by any given name) + makes a rare appearance outside of its forge to present + Marvelo with a new artificial jaw made of polished granite and + bronze. An exquisite gift that more than settles an old debt + owed from an adventure the two of them shared long ago.
+It will never be mistaken for flesh, but it does somewhat complement the golden tones of Marvelo’s skin. With the skill - of a surgeon, and craftmanship only the dwrlugh are capable - of, the Blacksmith affixes the jaw onto Marvelo’s bones with - small screws, and sews his muscles to the opening and closing - mechanisms so that it operates naturally.
+ of a surgeon, and a level of craftmanship unique to the + dwrlugh, the Blacksmith affixes the jaw to Marvelo’s bones + with small metal screws, and lengthens and sews his muscles to + the contraption so that it operates naturally, just like the + real thing.Marvelo grows stronger as the days go by. His recovery is no doubt accelerated by the hemogoblin, who provides ample - transfusions and refuses to leave his bed. Though he will ever - be physically scarred by his encounter with the Nyxmaer, he - soon enough is able to eat and drink on his own.
- ]]> - - ---Alex procures from a pocket of his trenchcoat a tiny vial. - On the vial is a small strip of parchment which reads:
--#!/bin/ash -sleepy=true - -sleep() { - while sleepy; do - sleep(10) - done -} - -trap sleep INT EXITHe 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?”
+ transfusions and refuses to leave his bed. Confidence and + Bread continue to help out around the place, and take turns + checking in on him. +Though he will ever be physically scarred by his encounter + with the Nyxmaer, Marvelo soon enough is able to eat and drink + on his own. Soon after that he is puttering around the Milk + Market and growing restless at his confinement.
+Kasutva falls in with Quack and Clot and attains the rank + of Milk Market Mascot. They have a better command of language + than their companions. And, being an escapee dream entity, at + times behaves a little alien, inscrutible, and other-wordly. + They don’t sleep, for example. And every morning they demand a + full recounting of everybody’s dreams, omitting nothing, and + sometimes requiring up to three retellings of each dream. But + they otherwise settle right right in.
+Another curious presence in the Milk Market is Rind. The + orphaned child of Pepo the melon vendor. Abandoned by his + mother. Adopted by Gliftwirp the assassin. The child has still + not uttered a word the entire time. Rind and the duck have + formed an inseparable bond. Apparently becoming a conjoined + host for a living dentophiliac nightmare will do that. + Whenever you least suspect it, you’ll turn around to find Rind + standing behind you, silent, wide-eyed, and watching. Cradling + the duck in his arms and stroking its feathers.
+Gliftwirp has still not responded to any attempts to wake + him. The toques have assumed responsibility for sustaining him + through his unnatural slumber. Feeding him broth, and carrying + him outside now and then for fresh air and sunshine. More + kindness than Alex is comfortable with, no doubt. Rind visits + him often in the storage closet where his cot is set up. + Keeping a silent, watchful vigil. Rind’s apparent affection + for the assassin is actually probably the only reason + Gliftwirp is shown any compassion whatsoever by Team 43.
+Your next mission looms ahead of you. Putting your heads + together with Marvelo and Confidence, you agree that the most + simple way forward will be to use the pirate balloonship + currently docked above the Market. It is straight-forward + enough to retrofit it with a portable atmosphere (which will + provide you with breathable oxygen and gravity) and a starhelm + (which will allow you to pilot the ship through the void of + space). Both items can be obtained in Vay’Nullar for a + reasonable price.
+The only thing holding you back at this point is your own + reservations about the various interested parties and their + motivations.
+Do you help the Golden Iris create a new god? Or do you + help an existing, exiled god return to Basmentaria? And then + who knows what the mysterious Benefactor’s plans are?
+Whatever your answer, there’s one thing you know: If you + don’t get moving soon, the next Ginnarak Crystal will fall + into somebody else’s hands.
WHAT DO YOU DO
]]>--Inky offers the cat person a bemused half-smile, then turns - to the sysorcerer. “We hope you are well. Young Master Alex - has been searching for you. He had planned on coming, but had - to attend to an urgent matter on short notice.”
-A pause, then Inky slides an open envelope — a plain affair - with a grid of tiny blue dots, and a single sheet of a similar - pattern inside — across the table towards the wizard. They - continue, “If there is anything you wish to tell him, you can - write it in a language only you two understand and seal the - envelope. This one will do their best to pass on the message.” - They wave another identical envelope, indicating the message - will be copied once sealed before pocketing it again.
-“If you do decide to write, please do it promptly. This one - will be departing shortly, and the envelope in front of you - will disappear,” they inform the sysorcerer with an apologetic - look and a tinge of sadness.
-To the self-proclaimed double agent, Inky replies, “Thanks - for the information. Master Alex will be positively ecstatic - with the news.” They send the hobbit a lopsided smile. - “Nevertheless, you will understand if the party would like to - consider your proposal further before providing an answer. - Haste makes waste, as proverbs say. Perhaps your pirate - captain would agree. My condolences.”
-Ignoring the proffered dice, Inky bids the group at the - table good evening and exits the club by the same route with - which they had entered, trying to stave off the growing unease - at the back of their mind.
-~
-Three corridors later, one with a high vaulted ceiling away - from the din of the gambling club, Inky slows their brisk trot - and hands Fuko the envelope. The owl grips the item, dives - down and drops it onto the thick carpet. She places the back - of one feet lightly over a corner of the envelope, deftly - slicing open the top layer along one edge with a claw. Working - quickly, she pulls out the contents with her beak, smoothing - out the sheet with a brush of her wings. Next, she flies in a - slow circle above the papers a few times before descending - again upon the papers and dragging them into a cake tin. - Finally, the bird pops the lid over the container, where the - paper within turns into dry compost.
-“It’s confidential. Please do not decode.” Inky says as a - reminder from their spot near the end of the corridor.
-Fuko levels an unimpressed look at her companion, as if to - say, Yes, for the twenty-fourth time. Inky smiles - back at her and asks, “Is your boss satisfied now?” - The smile widens briefly at the indignant screech and clicks - in response, then vanish as the events of the past few moments - caught up to them again. Here in a hallway brightly lit by - glow lamps away from any windows, the howling winds are a - distant echo, but it did not stop Inky from wondering.
-It had been a risk, dallying around longer to give the - elder wizard time to say his piece in writing. No one could - have missed the disappointment written clearly on his face - when he realised his nephew hadn’t come. Now, from Fuko’s - sparse recount of what their tails had found, the candle had - burned down, releasing something somewhere, yet none of the - others had woken up. It would appear that Master Alex had not - left the Dreaming at all, but was in another area doing - Neddas-only-knows-what.
-They stare up at the large central chandelier in the next - room with thousands of crystal beads that gleam like tiny - droplets suspended in the air. Orange shirt and blue shorts - have since been replaced with a red brimmed hat and blue - duffel coat, the drawstring pouch tied below the collar, and - running shoes with red rain boots. The mess of ginger hair is - trimmed to a caramel crop.
-When the owl settles again on their shoulder, stirring Inky - from their thoughts, they collect the cake tin, remove the lid - and look inside. From a pocket of their coat, they pull out - three seeds and nudge them with two fingers into the soil. - Descending a flight of stairs, Inky sets the dousojin, grown - to the size of a boulder, and the tin on a side table. They - pour seaweed tea into the tin from a glass bottle, then refill - the bottle with small fish-shaped crackers, corking and - placing it beside the tin.
-“Thank you, Great Spirit. This useless one will take their - leave now, and apologises if they have accidentally ‘left the - door open’ for something to blow in that should not be here.” - Inky says.
-They turn to the great horned owl. “Impeccable as ever, - both of you. Thanks for coming along tonight. You may go, - Fuko. When you wake yourself or with Futa’s help, please get - into the carrier as quickly as you can, activate the - connection and leave immediately. Sever it as soon as you - arrive safely. Forget about pulling off the patch under my - forearm, it can be delivered later, or he can have the body - sent over eventually. Leave and don’t look back.” Then, more - airily, “Should we meet again, Inky the Insolent shall bring - you a large ‘rat at two eels’. How’s that for a handsome - reward?”
-
~
---Alex takes the amulet solemnly “Alright, now that’s - something I can believe in.” he says as he turns the locket - over in his hand. The golden veins shimmer and pulse inside of - the pale blue. Alex dons the necklace, noting that the stone - is warm, almost exactly body temperature. “Alright Neddas, - you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll finish assembling the - crystals, we’ll haul you back out to Basementaria. And it - sounds like we’re cracking a few eggs along the way thanks to - this”.
-The howling interrupts, growing louder, becoming a - cacaphony of tormented banshee wails. The gray expanse of sand - fills with a vile wind, a thick almost physical wall of dark - black smog closes in. Neddas, is nowhere to be found.
-Alex dips down and scoops up the little Katsuva, tucking - him into the ruck sack at his side. “Hang tight little guy, I - think the ride out of here’s going to get bumpy..”
-In a single swift motion Alex pulls back the bolt on his - AK74u and levels it at the smog, letting loose a sustained - volley of gunfire. Bullets whiz with a defeaning RATATATAT. - While laying down suppressing fire, he pulls the little - console back up to his side with a short wave of the hand. A - single command is all he needs here.
-
When Alex pulls up his terminal he sees a notification - blinking in the corner of the screen. A message from - Corraidhín?
-The howling wind abruptly stops and the smog quickly - dissipates.
-~
-In the fish market, Alex and Inky both wake with a start, - gasping for breath as though drowning.
-It is dark. The lights are all out but it looks as through - Marvelo has dropped some flairs on the ground. They fill the - room with an eerie, crackling red glow.
-It is not quiet. The antiques dealer / spymaster has a - couple of cords of rope and a couple loose blankets coiled - around his arms and legs. He is shaking them off while - screaming obscenities and repeatedly firing a blaster pistol - at a large, roaring abomination standing in the center of the - room.
-The nightmare has an almost fetal-looking head with a long, - bulbous skull that looks far too large for its body. A single - eye glares malevolently from the center of its small face. - Oily feathers drip from a thin, sagging membrane that runs - from wrist to ankle. Its leathery skin cracks and oozes from - repeated shots to the torso from Marvelo’s blaster, but it - seems unbothered by the attack.
-It screeches and lunges forward and swings one massive arm - at Marvelo. Its leathery, feathery wing slices through the air - like a billowing cape behind its claws. Marvelo jumps to the - side at the last moment, firing another shot right into the - creature’s chest while in midair, and lands on the ground.
-Now prone and helpless on the floor, he looks up as the - beast looms over him. It screeches and falls on top of him, - shoving its slender hands into his mouth. Marvelo’s muffled - screams become pitiful whimpers as the creature pulls out - teeth by the handful and crams them into its own mouth.
-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
- ]]> ---One moment, Inky is half-asleep on their feet in the middle - of Branch Avenue. In the next, they are reclining in a banana - boat that resembles a canoe painted with long stripes of - yellow and white with deep brown swipes. The s’more interior - padding is soft, yet with the suppleness of fruit leather. A - few round, matching brown mini-cushions are strewn across the - boat interior. Also in the boat are two silver spoon paddles, - more for looks than cooks.
-They don’t know where the boat came from. Things just - appear. Like that Red Squirrel. Inky moves to holler a - greeting, but instead recites:
--"sgb rpthqqbk hr qba sgb fgnrsr dktb -sgb qnkkr rwbbs uma rn uqb ynt -sgnt uqs ly fthahmf rsuq ul h sghmb -h rbb vbqhky ly utrohehntr rhfm -sgb kns wur snrra uma sgbm h aqbw -uma cnqstmb ruha hs rgnta db ynt ott"[1]-[1]: -"The squirrel is red, the ghost's blue, -The roll's sweet, and so are you. -Thou art my guiding star, am I thine? -I see verily my auspicious sign: -The lot was toss'd and then I drew, -And Fortune said it shou'd be you. Puu."
~
---While Inky boards her banana boat and recites poetry to the - maddened squirrel, Alex springs to action leaping blithely - from the branch towards the squirrel. Beneath him manifests a - cockpit, sleek and futuristic. Around this materializes a - large robotic weapon, octopus-oid in shape. The many tentacles - bristle with weapons both fearsome and deadly.
-Alex grabs the controls, in one tentacle he latches onto - the banana boat, that way he won’t accidentally get separated - from Inky. With the other seven a series of feathers appear in - every brilliant hue. The tentacle attached to the boat unfurls - allowing Alex to draw closer to the squirrel. As the gap - closes the most intense tickle fight the dream world has ever - seen ensues, bringing joyous laughter to the faces of - many.
-“Inky, if we need to get out of here, just jet it! That - tentacle will yank the control pod and me with it!”
-
Alex basically becomes a Mech pilot, and confronts the Red - Squirrel head on with the Octopod.
-You engage in the tickle fight to end all tickle - fights!
-Its eight arms are more than a match for the squirrels - eight legs. You have the advantage of reach, entanglement, and - sucker pads. It struggles in your grasp, gnashing its terrible - teeth, but cannot reach you. Its long tail whips around - ineffectively, battering you softly.
-The agitated squirrel squeals and swells like a red - balloon. The mech’s tentacles struggle to contain it. Just as - the strain on the machine is about to become unbearable, the - rodent violently deflates. It collapses in on itself with such - ferocity that it turns itself inside out. The octopod, all - tangled up in the collapsing squirrel, is pulled along as it - folds in on itself until it becomes a hungry void the size of - a marble, floating in space and sucking at the air.
-Inky watches from the banana boat as Alex and the squirrel - disappear from the Silver Forest. The squirrel portal finally - closes in on itself, severing the banana boat from the octopus - mecha at the last possible second. Inky on this side. Alex on - the other.
-Alex, you and the wreckage of the octopod are vomited out - onto a sandy beach. Red mist and vapors dissipate from your - entry point. Before you is a vast ocean, lapping lazily at the - beach. The shoreline extends endlessly in both directions. - Behind you are endless sand dunes. Though there is no sun, the - sky seems to hover at sunset, all brilliant, swirling oranges - and purples.
-A lone humanoid figure can be seen standing atop a nearby - dune. It is tall. It has legs like a goat or fawn, and a - paunchy belly. Its long neck protrudes into a kind of trunk - that eventually folds over and hangs down in front of the - creature, about chest height. It terminates in a smooth, round - nub. No face. It wears a small satchel at its hip, its strap - slung over one shoulder and across its chest. Its long arms - hand loosely at its sides. Despite the lack of a face and any - sensory organs, it seems to be watching you. Slowly, it - descends the dune and starts walking toward you. It reaches - into its satchel and draws a long, sharp knife as it - approaches.
-Inky, you are in the banana boat in the Silver Forest. The - turtle that was a chipmunk has holed up in its shell, - effectively just a sticky bun.
-“You wanted to see me,” intones a slightly muffled voice - behind you. A statement, not a question. You turn to see a - figure cloaked in shadows and demons. They wear a domed helmet - of black obsidian glass, flashes of rainbow colored light - crackling along the inside illuminating very little of the - smoke-filled interior.
-“What is it you seek from Dude 215R?”
-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.
--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 domainFor 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?
--“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
- ]]> ---The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface. - Patterns where patterns shouldn’t be, strange orders from HQ, - indifference where once was ample aide as well. It was - maddening. Combine it all with the haunting suspicion that - there was constantly someone just around the next corner, and - it was enough to truly drive Alex mad.
-That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line, - but Alex wasn’t about to let it get to him. Or so he thought - to himself as he cast a furtive look at his monitoring - equipment. This paranoia had served him well in the past, very - well in fact. It’s a sort of sixth sense in a way, always kept - Alex off the edge of the cliff, especially when someone - stepped close enough to push him off. Those were the types of - skills HQ sought after in the first place.
-Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his - monitoring equipment running, dead man’s trigger set to blow - the place shoul anyone enter it. Can’t be too careful these - days..
-Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows, - Alex makes his way down an alley, then another, and yet - another, finally emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market. - Across the street, as he had expected, was Marvelo’s Marvelous - MurderSticks, a quaint place should one needed something, well - you get the picture, they don’t really sell anything but - weaponry here.
-Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode - towards the back rack, where a collection of knives was on - display. A rough looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning - hair, moved from the counter as he saw Alex approach. “Fine - sampling of knives we have, could I interest you in one?” - Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin stilleto style dagger, - and hands it to Marvelo “This one seems about right, but I’d - like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you don’t mind”. - Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say “Not a problem at all - sir”, and he heads into the back.
-He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he - places it on his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from - a stack, he deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled - piece of paper into the bottom, alongside an m1911 style - pistol, and a couple of clips of ammo. He then places the - velvet bottom back over the equipment, and places the stilleto - on top, bringing the entire package back to the front. “An - extra fine edge on this one sir, that’ll be 15 gold, plus - another 5 to cover the service.
-Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back - alley. Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to - himself as he disassembles the box holstering the pistol and - ammo, and sheathing the dagger. Can’t keep going unarmed like - I’m some kind of beat cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the - case and unfurls the message, quickly deciphering the - encryption set on it by Marvelo.
--The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet. -Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the "Milk Market" these past few days. -Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends. -Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors -Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal -Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advisedAlex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley, - taking a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping - back around, and heading back towards it by yet another. - Nobody appeared to be following him, yet he paused at each - corner and turn, waiting for the footsteps of a pursuant.
-Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance - of Enrique’s Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial. - “Enrique, where’s Inky? We’ve got a problem.”
-
~
---Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the - items and exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of - meeting Bother at the place stipulated on the note.
-(Half and one hour later)
-One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky - runs into Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains - some of their new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for - the convenience of late-night tourists. These are subsequently - hare-mailed to every editor at the Niuewstijl office, - which is almost certain to earn another chiding remark from - Tess about etiquette and the handling of unsolicited bulk mail - to parent editorial teams.
-(Half and two hours later)
-The installation on display at the Milk Market was - grotesque — that is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps - carefully through the rooms to not disturb the piece. - Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set up on an upturned milk - crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows of horse head and - thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled “you can’t ed - the unedible”.
-(Half and three hours earlier)
-Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of - paper on which were written a few questions about the - prescribed ritual, with some space after each question should - the witch prefer to scribble a response:
--
-- -
What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk - typically seek in return for directing travellers to the - correct pocket dimension?
- -
An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the - evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel - to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to - seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the - time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the - establishment while it is open?
- -
Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the - ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them?
- -
Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the - sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake - up?
(Half and four hours later)
-Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin. - One accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation, - following the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white - pockets of fat as they tumble into a hot pan and almost - immediately begin to move of their own accord. The moving - mounds resemble small round mouths opening, each with a rim of - sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes belongs to a grinning face - that beams when the mounds bloom into bright red flat caps, - the edges beneath about to soften in the olive oil.
-Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate - of tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes - with a murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the - tinned spicy artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process — - someone had ripped out the pages from an old pickling book - that had long ceased publication. Eventually Inky found a - former nomad who had eaten them for two years in their youth - and could recall or somewhat describe the taste. Flowery and - savoury, they said. Many taste tests later, it turned out to - be closer to partially decomposed cheese in ponderosa lemon - juice. Canning was fortuitously easier with the increasing - portability of sealers. Rather than telling the empanada chef - any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread across - his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining.
-(Half and five hours later)
-While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea - infusion since the start of the missions, not that Inky was - keeping a close count, they hear a familiar voice a short - distance outside the door asking for their whereabouts. - Without pausing in their whisking, Inky simply informs the - owner of the voice they’re not here, obviously, before - emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot and bowls on - a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer.
-
Agate writes back quickly:
---What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk - typically seek in return for directing travellers to the - correct pocket dimension?
-
Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams.
---An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the - evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel - to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to - seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the - time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the - establishment while it is open?
-
You’ll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside. - You’ll likely arrive exactly when you’re meant to. No need to - worry too much about it.
---Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the - ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them?
-
Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream - Sigil, respectively. It’s not terrible if they show - up. But it’s definitely not ideal. You shouldn’t register on - their radar as long as you don’t pump too much energy into, or - siphon to much energy out of, the sigils. If they do show up, - just know that you’re in the presence of a godlike power, and - behave accordingly.
---Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the - sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up?
-
If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken, - you’ll likely just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for - if your dreamform is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only - real danger you may encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk. - They will attempt to permanently sever your dreamform from - your waking body. Which would leave your body a soulless husk, - and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But - that probably won’t happen! Okay good luck, have fun!
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- ]]> ---Alex lifts his teacup and sips the fragrantly tea, - “perfumed of rosehips, and cardamum? An interesting choice. I - appreciate it Inky, these past few days have been terribly - rough, and I’m rather tired of field rations.” Alex takes a - sip, and then continues hurridly. “I’ve been monitoring the - Bazar, we are in grave danger. It started with just me, but I - fear it’s bled over to everyone here at the Milk Market. I - can’t be entirely certain.”
-Alex looks worriedly at Inky. “There’s a lot going on here. - As soon as we got back from Kelsun I was sent on an - assignment, normally not an issue, but they wanted me to level - 3 of the busiest coffee shops in the bazar. I planted those - bombs, alongside listening devices, and then I bugged out. My - team appears to have been assigned equally bizarre - assignments, all rather violent messy things. A lot of - innocent lives are on the line here.”
-“We dropped off the grid, I’ve got an isolated listening - post in the sewers here, it’s heavily reinforced and that’s - where I’ve been hiding out, but I’m not certain it’s safe. - Agent 5 found a melon vendor dead in the market, and this - vendor was specifically seeking out the Milk Market, looking - for us. I believe it may be an assassin, could be from HQ, - could be from Blavin. It’s entirely opaque to me.”
-“As far as I can tell, my agents are all loyal to me, - there’s 5 of them in total, 6 if you count me. We could man - the ship and get the hell out of here in a few hours, and it - may be our best chance. But there’s the iris letter we need to - attend to, and I cannot for the life of me find anything, not - a damn trace, of Blavin. And I think all of this bodes very - poorly for us.”
-Alex looks worriedly at Inky, and you’re telling me we have - a ritual we have to perform, to find the iris group’s meeting - place.. I’m leery Ink, I have to be you see. But my uncle - trusted you, and I do as well. If you think this is our best - shot, we can hole up in the sewers and try to perform this - dream walk of your witch friend’s. But if this iris business - turns out to be a trap, well, how well can you handle a - gun?
-
~
---“Your courage and concern are admirable, Master Alex. - Caution is likewise advisable.” Inky nods seriously.
-The next moment, they gave the sysorcerer a slightly - deranged grin. “I’m sure you have already seen many grave - dangers. What’s another one for the bucket list? What’s life - if not violent and messy? So many melons dismembered and laid - waste daily—”
-As if suddenly recalling a detail, Inky pauses and blinks. - “Melon vendor? Oh, poor Pepo. He has been complaining about - his neighbour’s boa constrictors for years. The serpents were - drawn to the rodents his fruits typically attracted, which - might not have been a problem were it not for them hanging out - at his stall and scaring off his customers. Maybe he finally - took matters into his own hands, with tragic results.” They - look at an empty mixing bowl across the table glumly. “He had - offered to bring over a few of the new variety as soon as they - arrived, as he was already delivering to a household the next - district over.”
-They send Master Alex a sidelong glance. “Someone is after - you? You didn’t do something horrid like help an old - grandmother cross the street on sockless skates, for - instance?” Refilling the sysorcerer’s cup, Inky continues, “As - for Blavin, only 3 of the crystals have been recovered. Blavin - knows Team 43 is his best chance of obtaining the others. - Until he has all the crystals, he will stay his hand. If he - doesn’t know that, then he is hardly a threat.”
-Setting down the teapot, Inky shrugs. “They seem eager to - get our attention. I suppose I could spare them their twelve - minutes of fame, for the right price. Enlightenment would - probably be too much to ask of a nightmare. If you’d rather - take your team and make a run for it instead, that’s fine too. - If they come knocking I’ll just tell them you missed the hotel - fondue at Kelsun Peak.”
-Their gaze skips to one of the cups before they shake their - head. “No gun.” They turn around and take down a bamboo - walking stick hanging from a hook on a wall next to a worn - coat. Inky grasps the handle and pulls. It slides out quietly - to reveal a long, thin, tapered surgical steel tube which, if - someone were to lean in for a closer inspection, is sparsely - covered in tiny, needle-like protrusions along the surface. On - the underside, a transparent sliver ran the length of the tube - to end about a forefinger’s length from the handle. Visible - through the narrow window is a colourless liquid, most likely - a sedative or toxin, fills the reinforced steel interior.
-They smile mirthlessly at Master Alex. “I don’t know that - Master Corraidhín trusted me, because if he did, it would have - been the most foolhardy thing the wise man has ever done. You - would do well to not make that mistake.”
-
~
---“It doesn’t sound like we have all too much of an option”, - Alex says, as a little Scarab beetle in his pocket chimes, - “that’ll be the dead man’s trigger going off in my - hideout.”
-Alex frowns, shame to lose all of that data, those systems, - that hideout.. but I hope whoever broke in enjoys thermite, - assuming they don’t asphyxiate quickly enough to miss the - fun..
-Inky, you’re right, life is a bit violent and messy, so - lets bring the violent mess to these bastards. If you’ve got a - lead on this with this dream ritual, then fuck it, lets take - the risk. I won’t run from this fight, my uncle sure as hell - wouldn’t. And at worst, he’d go out with a magnificient bang. - Lets give it back tenfold, for poor Pepo.
-Nodding his own approval Alex continues, I have another - hideout in the eastern quandrant, near the sysorcerer’s guild. - It’s a little risky to head out that way, but none of my - Zabbix alerts indicate it was compromised. It has automated - IDS and IPS systems, so we should be safe enough in there once - we whole up. At very least we’ll know if someone comes for us, - and we’ll have a little bit of time to react on it. We should - bring the Toques with us, and little blod clot, and the - duck.
-Looking sorrowfully at Enrique, “I think it might be best - if you got the hell out of dodge too friend, it isn’t safe, - and I don’t want to see you become collateral here. Head down - to the wharf, I’ll have agent 5 meet you there, he’ll help you - and your family lay low until all of this blows over.”
-
~
---At Enrique’s deep frown, Inky sighs and adds, “Might as - well do as Master Alex says. He can spot danger twelve blocks - away, and turtle soup is really out of fashion these - days.”
-Then they excuse themselves to pack a few items, returning - about fifteen minutes later with a knapsack and a cross-strap - carrier draped in a black cloth cover. Inky says, “I hope you - don’t mind if I bring along a guest as well.”
-The cover is pulled back to expose a dome-shaped birdhouse, - with transparent circular rings at the top partially obscured - by sliding shutters of the same shape. A wooden hoop with a - woven, web-like pattern and adorned with a string of feathers - hangs from one side. On the opposite side is a double door - with a miniature knob over each door. Inky lightly taps on one - of the doors, and at a low click coming from within in - response, swings the doors wide enough for the kitchen lamps - to illuminate the great horned owl resting on a pillow inside. - The bird opens one amber eye for a moment, gaze sweeping idly - across the occupants in the room before dozing off again.
-“This is Fuko. She and her twin brother Futa have certain - shared connections. What one sees, the other will also know. I - asked their caretaker if I could borrow them for a while. Fuko - will accompany me for the ritual. Her brother is at another - location and can send a message if a need arises.” Inky - explains with a wry expression. “Think of it as a minor - indulgence of sorts. I was told their kind, along with eagle - owls, are very good at negotiating with those of the - ravens.”
-They give the owl a small smile. “She may be a little - temperamental, but she is well-trained.” Closing the birdhouse - doors, Inky turns back to Master Alex. “I suppose you’d rather - not reveal the location of your hideout to any more people - than necessary. Her carrier will remain covered on the way in - and out.”
-
Gliftwirp stands under the branches of a tree, pooled in - shadow, far from the small gathering. He has been to plenty of - funerals. Often under these very circumstances, in fact. And - he always keeps his distance out of respect.
-For one, he owns no clothes but his vest, sash, and - trousers. And his bright red colors would be a sign of - disrespect among the mourners. Secondly and most importantly, - he himself is the one who put the man in the ground.
-Sadly, he had little choice. He had underestimated the - sysorcer. Didn’t realize he had his own agents working for - him. When he realized that one of the agents had been in - contact with the melon vendor, he knew that Popplewick could - and would identify the warpwefter if pressured.
-Gliftwirp had grown to enjoy his daily chats with the melon - vendor. Popplewick was a kind, determined man. A refugee from - the Cinderlands, his family came to Vay’Nullar following the - Artifice Wars when he was just a boy. He grew up poor, and - often relied on the generosity of others. But eventually he - was able to support himself and his small family. He was proud - of the life he had built.
-So Gliftwirp took no pleasure in what came next. Late one - night when Popplewick was on his way home from the market, the - assassin slipped a bag over his head and dragged him into a - dark alley. He cinched the bag tight, cutting off his air. - There was a brief struggle before Popplewick passed out and - Gliftwirp lowered him down to the ground. He held him there, - unconscious and not breathing, until he was gone. In only took - but a moment. And then Gliftwirp stood up and left.
-Now at the funeral, the mourners leave one by one. Until - only the widow is left, cradling a small sleeping child to her - chest. “Oh, Pepo,” she whispers to the headstone. “What can I - do now?”
-When she leaves, she does not return to the main path. She - meanders slowly as though in a daze toward the back of the - graveyard and down the hill. She steps into the wood. A flash - of red follows her at a distance.
-She kneels on the banks of the forest river and sets the - child down on wide flat rock. It is awake now and looks up at - her with solemn eyes. “I am sorry, made-of-me,” she says to - the child. And that is all the explanation it gets.
-She stands and turns and walks away. The child watches her - go.
-When she has been gone for some minutes, Gliftwirp steps - out of the shadows and crouches down beside the child. It - looks up and reaches for him. “Look at you,” he says to the - child as he scoops it up. “Who would throw you away? A - perfectly good baby!” He stands and bounces the child. “A - sweet little melon rind is what you are. Ha! Very well. Come, - Rind, we have work to do.”
-The assassin, child in his arms, walks back toward the - city.
-~
-In the aftermath, Agent 5 is found down by the docks. They - clearly struggled in death. The assassin blamed him for - Popplewick’s death and the widow’s weakness.
-Down in the sewers, two tiny mittened hands reach up and - awkwardly turn the doorknob to Alex’s hideout. The bolt clears - the latch with a faint click. Two tiny cloth hands struggle - against the heavy iron door, pushing it slowly open, inch by - inch. A mechanism clicks inside and there is a whoosh of air - and then a boom as the bunker violently ignites. The tiny - figure is incinerated, and blown back into the sewer - tunnel.
-Gliftwirp steps forward into the light of the blaze and - crouches down by the tiny figure. He picks it up, a tattered - and burned bundle of cloth. “Look, Rind,” he says to the small - child standing at his elbow. “You must always acknowledge and - be grateful for those who sacrifice for you.” He starts to - untie and unfold the cloth puppet as he speaks. It unfurls and - smooths out and stitches itself back together under his touch. - Even the burn marks fade, and soon Gliftwirp is once again - holding his red sash.
-“Now, Rind,” he says standing up and taking the child’s - hand, squinting into the fire. “Let’s see what we can salvage - here.”
-WHAT DO YOU DO
-In the fish market, the dreamers continue to sleep soundly - through the ringing claxon alarms with nothing but maybe the - twitch of a finger to indicate that they hear anything at - all.
-During the commotion with Marvelo and Gliftwirp, nobody but - Rind noticed the thick rusty nail in the side of the candle - wiggle its way out of the soft wax and clatter onto the plate - at the base of the candle, the ringing of tin masked by the - ringing of the claxon alarm.
-Still the dreamers sleep.
-Rind watches as the candle burns dangerously low. The - mummified hand of the Nyxmaer in the base of the candle starts - to wriggle, struggle, and strain against the softening wax. It - stretches and reaches for the eye in the center of the - candle.
-Rind continues to soothe the duck and stroke its feathers. - The child looks at the space where Gliftwirp and the - hemogoblin stumbled into the circle, smudging the line of salt - and ash, breaking the circle and severing its continuity. - Making a small space for something to get in. Or out.
---“Yo! Little cavatappi dude, where the hell are we?!” Alex’s - eyes scan the room rapidly. There’s no water, aside from what - he dragged in with his abrupt departure from the pier. The - dark sky stretches into the nothingness of the void. Asthe - robed figure begins speaks Alex takes note of his - situation.
-‘Nowhere to hide, zero cover. A whole lot of nothing - actually. It’s one thing after another with this dream - thing.’
-As the figure finishes his address Alex nods politely. - “I’ll be honest my guy, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re - talking about. Looks to me you’ve got the whole sword thing, - all I’ve got is my trusty AK. I guess back top side, in umm I - guess the real world, I did find a wonky dagger my uncle tried - to hide. But I’m pretty sure that got eaten by a cute little - hemogoblin while I was busy murdering ghost pirates. Anyways - more to the point, I’m not quite sure I follow.”
-Alex pauses briefly and then continues, “You say you need - to get out of here? Now that part I follow, me the hell too. I - just got attacked by some freaky sadist mushroom that called - itself katsuva. Cut its head clean off just so it could try - and chuck me in the drink. Right unpleasant fella, but I think - I lost him when, well, I got here, wherever that is.”
-“Now I don’t know much, but I’m not much for trust after - getting attacked by a talking mushroom monster. So if you’ll - excuse me, I reckon the exit is right about that way (Alex - jabs his finger over his back away from the figure), and I’m - inclined to head out unless you know a better way.”
-
You weren’t in the kobit caves with the rest of Retrieval - Team 43, so you didn’t see the reliefs. But every Basmentarian - is familiar with the iconography of the Trine. This figure is - dressed in the traditional rainments of Neddas, god of sages - and starlight. Furthermore you recognize them from your dreams - in the Milk Market.
-Kasutva the small mushroom meeps and hides behind your - leg.
-“You know, we each of us loved you in our own way,” Neddas - says. “But of the three of us, I alone gave away pieces of my - divinity. I wanted to see you thrive and grow strong.
-“You’ve already found several pieces of my essence. - Coin in the treasure hoard below the earth. - Mirth in the shipwreck under the sea. And - lore in the clouds atop Kelsun Peak.
-“And of course you found justice,” they say, - looking at the sword. “This one got a little weird.” The - frown. “Became a little sentient, didn’t it?” They press the - blade of the sword to their chest and absorb it into their - being. They sigh happily.
-“You have found enough of my essence that I am able to - start to materialize again. Not quite in Basmentaria yet. But - here, a little bit.
-“There are still two more pieces out there. If you can - reunite all five crystals, I will be able to cross over into - Basmentaria again.
-“So yes, Alex. You are correct. It is time you head out. - Return to Basmentaria. Find the remaining crystals, so that I - may return and right the wrongs of the past. I will do what I - can to assist you.”
---Inky waves back once, twice in greeting, before crossing - their forefingers twice, touching a hand briefly to their - chest, and strolling towards the restrooms.
-Leaning against a wall outside of the rest area, out of - sight from the main dining hall, Inky pulls out the message - from Master Alex and reads it. Engagement confirmed, it seems. - Also in the envelope is a smooth oval grey pebble with the - letters “sh” carved onto it. A mini dousojin. How considerate - of him.
-Putting the envelope and pebble into a shorts pocket, Inky - holds up a chewy blood berry biscuit, which they offer to the - great horned owl patiently perched on their shoulder. “What if - we just zip out now and have a walk around the towers? Do you - think it will cause offence to the Grand Master of the realm?” - Inky asks her. Fuko looks up from her treat and gives them a - short series of disapproving clicks of her beak.
-“He wants more ‘intel’,” Inky says. It isn’t even a - question.
-On another occasion they would be glad to see Master - Corraidhn animated and well — when there wasn’t a demanding - curmudgeon on the other end of an absurd fishing expedition. - The elder sysorcerer’s presence in the Dreaming, illusion or - otherwise, has effectively dashed any prospect of an early - night out.
-“Thirteen minutes. Only because Scoops likes you.” Inky - tells the owl.
-They look down at their shirt with orange horizontal - stripes, blue knee-length shorts, blue running shoes, and - wordlessly declare the change of clothes suitable for fine - non-dining. The noogle’s drawstring pouch is knotted to a - metal hoop on a pocket flap to one side of their shorts, - having let loose a short mop of tousled red hair. A plush - floofy duck keychain dangles next to the pouch.
-Emerging from the hallway, the awkward, skinny youth with - an owl approaches the far corner table.
-
You approach the far corner table, weaving your way through - the crowded tables of the Harpoon Club.
-“Inky!” Blavin chorttles merrily as you pull up a chair. - The cat person nods politely at you and starts rebuilding the - block tower.
-Corraidhín watches the archway behind you as you enter. - When nobody follows you into the Harpoon Club he frowns, tugs - on his beard, and sits up straighter in his chair.
-“You’re alone?” Blavin observes. “No matter. Thank you so - much for meeting us here! I trust it wasn’t too much trouble? - A little bit out of the way, I know. But it is so very hard to - find a place away from prying eyes, isn’t it?”
-“Get to the point, Blavin.” snaps Corraidhín.
-“Quite right!” laughs Blavin, taking a sip of his drink. - “Listen,” he says, suddenly very serious. “It’s time I came - clean to you. You deserve that much. And besides, I think we - can help each other. While it is true that I work for the - Benefactor, I don’t actually serve their interests. You see, I - represent another party. A double agent they would - call me in the spy novels.” He waves his hand dismissively, as - though somebody were making a fuss over him and he were - embarrassed.
-“As I’m sure you already know, our organization is called - the Golden Iris. Like the Benefactor, our goal is to collect - the Ginnarak Cystals. I know you’ve heard all the old stories. - Together they could kill a god, blah blah blah.” He - sloshes his drink as the gestures. “But we think they’ve got - it all wrong, Inky. That is, they have it backwards - at least!”
-Blavin leans in, his eyes shining. “The Golden Iris intends - nothing less than creating a new god!”
-“The Trine has been absent for years. We’re going to - restore the balance. Now you see why the mission is so - important, Inky. We need the crystals.”
-“Now I know what you’re going to say! It all sounds too - fantastic. Yes well, that’s why I brought along somebody whose - credibility I know you’ll trust!” He beams at Corraidhín.
-The wizard sighs. “As far as I can tell, the hobbit is - telling the truth.”
-Blavin grins as Corraidhín continues.
-“The Golden Iris is trying to elevate Sitopotnia, the Corn - Mother, to godhood. Which I admit makes a certain kind of - sense. She’s the only mortal to have created life after all. - Kind of the ideal candidate for the job to be honest.
-They’ve hitched an odd team of mules to their buggy to help - them. And they’re managing to drag the thing forward despite - all pulling in slightly different directions. The Cyberplasms - want new bodies. The Gnu Zealots want to open source the - process so everybody can create new gods. And I don’t actually - know what the BAND wackos want.”
-Corraidhín shrugs, “I don’t have a particular dog in this - fight. The Benefactor was able to excise the, ahem, ‘anomaly’ - that happened at the SS RSS. Including the second crystal, - which is currently in his possession, and my body, which is - still technically back at the institute and still under the - care of Felixe here.” The black cat gives another polite nod. - Having completed building the tumbling tower, it is now - shuffling the tumbrot cards, face down, around on the - table.
-“Felixe is Basmentaria’s preeminent expert in preserving - entities that happen to exist between two states. Or that - happen to exist in two states at the same time.. Bah, it’s - complicated,” Corraidhín huffs.
-“Yes!” interrupts Blavin. “Now! Despite working closely - with him all this time, I am actually none the wiser as to the - Benefactor’s actual plans for the crystals. I just know we - need them more.
-“Inky, you must retrieve the remaining crystals. And also - the one in the Benefactor’s possession. And deliver them to us - so we may usher in a new age for Basmentaria!”
-Felixe the cat deals the cards out to the center of the - table, face down, in a cross. Three across, three high. It - sets the remainder of the deck aside and looks at you - expectantly.
-WHAT DO YOU DO?
- ]]> -Total length: 91892 words / 392 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +
Total length: 94060 words / 401 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 248 messages posted over 240 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.03.
+There have been 255 messages posted over 241 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.05.
This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.
Jump to: 1 2
WHAT DO YOU DO Alex grabs the envelope from in front of him and rushes to check on
+Inky and Marvelo. “Are you two alright?” he asks as he notes the patch
+job Inky performed. “Thank you Inky, I understand why my uncle trusted
+you so much.” he said sincerely. Inky was far better a healer than Alex
+could ever hope to be. He steps away, noting there’s not much he can do after Inky gives
+their response. Marv is stable, but not much a talker at the moment. He
+proceeds to check on the duck, the child Rind, and the hemogoblin. The
+little hemogoblin burbbles happily and climbs up to sit on Alex’s
+shoulder, tugging lightly at the cord which suspended the gem Neddas
+gave him, now worn around his neck. “Best not mess with that one little
+one, I’m not sure what the hell just happened, but I don’t trust it. Or
+any of this eldritch mumbo jumbo..” Rind is quiet pensive, and doesn’t respond much when Alex attempts to
+interact. “Inky, do you think you can look after this one when you get a
+second? I’m going to check on the sleeping bloke.” Alex carefully makes his way back towards the circle, making sure not
+to cross over it. He quietly inspects their unwelcomed guest. “I don’t know who you think you are, but I ought to put a bullet
+through your skull where you lay you sick son of a bitch. How dare you
+sneak up on my friends like that.” Alex racks his pistol, noting there’s
+a bullet in the chamber, and levels it at the silk assassin. “Inky,
+unless you have objections, I’m going to tie up some loose ends..” Alex
+says grimly. ~ “It’s just basic first aid, Master Alex. Any old adventuring sod on
+the street can do it. Thank you for the thought, though.” Inky replies.
+“However, very few people can pull off what you just did. That was a
+remarkable feat.” They take a long look at the child, then beckon their marketing
+manager closer, crouching down next to them to speak softly and slowly
+to the child. “I guess you’ve already met duck. You’re friends, right?
+But did you know that duck is a really good listener? Whenever you’re
+sad or scared, you can tell duck. Duck always knows what to do. If you
+let duck give you a hug, duck can help you feel better too.” They guide
+the child’s hands to the duck’s back and let them rest there, watching
+for a moment as small, thin fingers begin to stroke the feathers of
+their own accord. At the sysorcerer’s direct address, they look over to him and their
+slumbering visitor’s form. “Do as you like, Master Alex.” Inky says
+tonelessly. They add in a low voice, “In all likelihood he will be
+unable to cause trouble this side again. If he has not woken up now that
+the candle’s spell has broken, he probably never will. Maybe justice has
+already been served, or the Scissorfolk got to him. Mercy is an
+unpopular idea of late though, and I’m hardly in a position to ask
+anyone to ponder its meaning.” They frown at the body. “Speaking of which, the ever-resourceful case
+manager has another proposal for you to consider, having gone as far as
+to recruit a local celebrity you know well to speak to his cause. His
+group, the Golden Iris, wants the crystals for the purpose of conferring
+divinity upon the Corn Mother Sitopotnia and making knowledge of the
+process available to all. No doubt he’ll be expecting a response to his
+offer soon. But I see you have already made your choice.” Inky offers
+the sysorcerer a resigned smile. The sound of tapping on glass interrupts Inky’s next words. They look
+in the direction of the window to see the scops owl outside with a
+weatherproof pouch in its beak. Inky walks over to the window, wedging
+it open just wide enough to allow the bird to hop in and takes the
+pouch. A tiny smirk makes its way to Inky’s face when they return the
+owl’s searching stare, despite an attempt to look stern and failing. “He
+let you out, hmm? All right, in a minute,” Inky murmurs to the newly
+arrived messenger, while pulling out an envelope from the pouch. As the
+small owl sets itself on the imp’s right shoulder like it belonged
+there, said imp half-turns to Master Alex, expression serious again. “One more thing.” They place the detonator, followed by the envelope,
+on top of a stack of pillows a few paces from the sysorcerer. It is
+identical in appearance to the one they had presented to Master
+Corraidhín in the Dreaming. “Since you weren’t at the meeting, I offered to take a message from
+your uncle presumptive. Fuko’s caretaker has a contraption that can
+print copies of notes written on special paper after showing them to the
+twins. It has come in handy on occasion in remote areas with few or no
+amenities,” Inky explains. “Anyway, I don’t know if he wrote anything,
+or if he was truly Master Corraidhín. Fuko handled the rest and I didn’t
+ask her amid the hustle. It could be a blank sheet and everything I just
+said was probably a terrible joke. He did seem genuinely glum you
+couldn’t be there, though.” They shrug. “You know what to do from here.
+Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would very much like some fresh air.” With
+those parting words and walking stick in hand, Inky strides quickly from
+the room, out of the dilapidated building and into the drizzling
+rain. ~ Alex gripped his pistol as Inky walked away, her words ringing in his
+ears “you have already made your choice. The statement brings pause, a
+flicker of doubt, and a frown mars Alex’s face. As Inky shuts the door
+behind her Alex lets out a discontented sigh, what was it Uncle had
+said? “A man’s fate, is wrought by his own hand” Alex looked at the sleeping man before him, the pistol in his hand,
+Marvelo’s blood spattered haphazardly across his gloves and trench coat.
+Was more blood really the answer? Would killing this man right the wrong
+done against Alex? Or his agents? Would their dangerous game get any
+less dangerous? A single shot rang out from the warehouse, the bullet lodge
+harmlessly amongst pillows and blankets. The pistol cast aside, resting
+next to the bestilled assassin, with a small note afixed to it. ‘Your fate is wrought by your own hand, not mine. - Agent 4’ Alex gathers himself, discontented, and pulls the letter Inky gave
+him open. Inside was Uncle’s familiar writing, in the simple cypher he’d
+used when Alex was just a boy. Alex shakes as he folds the letter back into the envelope and presses
+it gently against his breast coat pocket. “I’m coming Uncle”, he
+whispers as he strides across the room and into the rainy night. He catches up with Inky a little down the dock, and comes to sit
+beside her on the wharf. The patter of rain hitting heavily dampened
+planks and stone resounding around them. “Inky.. thank you. For the letter, but also your friendship.” Alex
+casts a side long glance towards Inky, and he begins to describe his
+dream sequence in a rambling sort of way. As he nears the end, “And that
+Neddas gave me this stone, he said gesturing to the necklace he wore.
+But I’d of told you it was bullshit before any of this happened. And now
+you’re telling me there are factions, Blavin, the Benefactor, hell I
+guess us, all vying for control of these crystals. I don’t know what to
+do, or what any of it means, but I know we can forge our own path in
+this, the rest of it be damned!” Alex sighs heavily. “I couldn’t kill the assassin. He killed one of
+my men, almost killed Marvelo. He’d of killed us if he hadn’t gotten
+caught in that magic. I don’t know if I have it in me Inky, I’m not sure
+I can keep staring into the abyss without tipping over the edge.” “Everything was a little easier when it was just the agency, hunting
+down the bad guys. We had the data, knew the crimes. All of this
+though?” he gestures broadly towards the sea in front of them “is about
+as clear as a ship on these waters. There’s no light to guide us. And
+all I want is my Uncle back.” Alex sighs heavily again and hands the envelope from Blavin to Inky,
+“and it doesn’t look like it ends here, Blavin wants us to head to the
+moon, but I’m not so sure we should go..” ~ The imp remains quiet for a long time, staring out into the open
+sea. Eventually, Inky says, “I cannot tell you what to do.” They look at the envelope but make no move to take it. “You already have the Fair One’s blessing. Combined with your
+talents, fortitude and determination, success is more or less assured if
+you decide to go. If you decide not to, maybe Master Corraidhín will
+turn up on his own again when he is sufficiently recovered — if he does
+not run off to collect the remainder of the crystals himself.” Inky
+chuckles at that. “Master Alex is such a thoughtful nephew, not wanting
+to deprive his uncle of his fun.” They lean back on their hands and study Master Alex under half-lidded
+eyes. “You really are like your uncle.” A few beats pass, and they turn
+their attention upwards to the sky, tilting their head up towards the
+errant raindrops and cool winds blowing in from across the waters. In the days that follow, you move Marvelo into the Milk Market to
-care for him. The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay’Nullar (a dwrlugh who—as is the case
-with its kind—refuses to go by any given name) makes a rare appearance
-outside of its forge to present Marvelo with a new artificial jaw made
-of polished granite and bronze. It will never be mistaken for flesh, but
-it does somewhat complement the golden tones of Marvelo’s skin. With the
-skill of a surgeon, and craftmanship only the dwrlugh are capable of,
-the Blacksmith affixes the jaw onto Marvelo’s bones with small screws,
-and sews his muscles to the opening and closing mechanisms so that it
-operates naturally.00072
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+I have only a moment to pen this, and I don't know if it'll reach
+you, but I trust Inky will try.
+
+I am very much alive, rest assured, but the where I haven't yet
+pieced together. Blavin has my physical and metaphysical form
+trapped. And he has the second crystal.
+
+But don't worry, if you're looking as Inky claimed, I rest well
+knowing my unrelenting rebel will raise hell itself to find me.
+
+Remember, son, we write our own fate.
+
+- 10
+
The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay’Nullar (a dwrlugh who—as is +traditional among its kind—refuses to go by any given name) makes a rare +appearance outside of its forge to present Marvelo with a new artificial +jaw made of polished granite and bronze. An exquisite gift that more +than settles an old debt owed from an adventure the two of them shared +long ago.
+It will never be mistaken for flesh, but it does somewhat complement +the golden tones of Marvelo’s skin. With the skill of a surgeon, and a +level of craftmanship unique to the dwrlugh, the Blacksmith affixes the +jaw to Marvelo’s bones with small metal screws, and lengthens and sews +his muscles to the contraption so that it operates naturally, just like +the real thing.
Marvelo grows stronger as the days go by. His recovery is no doubt accelerated by the hemogoblin, who provides ample transfusions and -refuses to leave his bed. Though he will ever be physically scarred by -his encounter with the Nyxmaer, he soon enough is able to eat and drink -on his own.
+refuses to leave his bed. Confidence and Bread continue to help out +around the place, and take turns checking in on him. +Though he will ever be physically scarred by his encounter with the +Nyxmaer, Marvelo soon enough is able to eat and drink on his own. Soon +after that he is puttering around the Milk Market and growing restless +at his confinement.
+Kasutva falls in with Quack and Clot and attains the rank of Milk +Market Mascot. They have a better command of language than their +companions. And, being an escapee dream entity, at times behaves a +little alien, inscrutible, and other-wordly. They don’t sleep, for +example. And every morning they demand a full recounting of everybody’s +dreams, omitting nothing, and sometimes requiring up to three retellings +of each dream. But they otherwise settle right right in.
+Another curious presence in the Milk Market is Rind. The orphaned +child of Pepo the melon vendor. Abandoned by his mother. Adopted by +Gliftwirp the assassin. The child has still not uttered a word the +entire time. Rind and the duck have formed an inseparable bond. +Apparently becoming a conjoined host for a living dentophiliac nightmare +will do that. Whenever you least suspect it, you’ll turn around to find +Rind standing behind you, silent, wide-eyed, and watching. Cradling the +duck in his arms and stroking its feathers.
+Gliftwirp has still not responded to any attempts to wake him. The +toques have assumed responsibility for sustaining him through his +unnatural slumber. Feeding him broth, and carrying him outside now and +then for fresh air and sunshine. More kindness than Alex is comfortable +with, no doubt. Rind visits him often in the storage closet where his +cot is set up. Keeping a silent, watchful vigil. Rind’s apparent +affection for the assassin is actually probably the only reason +Gliftwirp is shown any compassion whatsoever by Team 43.
+Your next mission looms ahead of you. Putting your heads together +with Marvelo and Confidence, you agree that the most simple way forward +will be to use the pirate balloonship currently docked above the Market. +It is straight-forward enough to retrofit it with a portable atmosphere +(which will provide you with breathable oxygen and gravity) and a +starhelm (which will allow you to pilot the ship through the void of +space). Both items can be obtained in Vay’Nullar for a reasonable +price.
+The only thing holding you back at this point is your own +reservations about the various interested parties and their +motivations.
+Do you help the Golden Iris create a new god? Or do you help an +existing, exiled god return to Basmentaria? And then who knows what the +mysterious Benefactor’s plans are?
+Whatever your answer, there’s one thing you know: If you don’t get +moving soon, the next Ginnarak Crystal will fall into somebody else’s +hands.
+WHAT DO YOU DO