main
Christopher P. Brown 3 months ago
parent 2cf0f75c38
commit bdd3a2550a

@ -2,11 +2,15 @@
default:
just --list --unsorted
# only run if changes are made to macros
freeze:
m4 -F macros.m4f macros
# build referee facing html
spoilers:
cat basement.order \
| xargs pandoc -f markdown -t markdown \
| m4 macros - \
| m4 -R macros.m4f - \
| pandoc \
-t html \
--standalone \
@ -19,7 +23,7 @@ spoilers:
public:
cat basement.order \
| xargs -I % pandoc -f markdown -t markdown --template=templates/public.tmpl % \
| m4 macros - \
| m4 -R macros.m4f - \
| pandoc -t html \
--standalone \
--toc \

@ -1,5 +1,18 @@
changequote(`<!', `!>')dnl
define(<!zxWPM!>, 234)dnl
define(<!zxWORDS!>, <!esyscmd(pandoc -t plain www/index.html | wc -w | sed -e 's/ //g' | tr '\n' ' ')!>)dnl
define(<!zxMINUTES!>, <!esyscmd(expr zxWORDS / zxWPM | tr '\n' ' ')!>)dnl
changequote()dnl
divert(-1)dnl
changequote(`<!', `!>')
# Constants
define(<!zxINBOXPATH!>, <!/Users/cb/Library/Thunderbird/Profiles/o0gmn24o.default-release/ImapMail/imap.tilde.team/INBOX!>)
define(<!zxSTARTDATE!>, <!20220713!>)
define(<!zxWPM!>, <!234!>)
define(<!zxSTRIP!>, <! tr '\n' ' ' | sed -e 's/ //g'!>)
# System Calls
define(<!zxNOMESSAGES!>, <!esyscmd(grep '\[tildepals\] BASEMENT QUEST' zxINBOXPATH | wc -l | zxSTRIP )!>)
define(<!zxWORDS!>, <!esyscmd(pandoc -t plain www/index.html | wc -w | zxSTRIP)!>)
define(<!zxDAYS!>, <!esyscmd(echo "(`gdate +%s` - `gdate +%s -d zxSTARTDATE`) / 86400" | bc | tr '\n' ' ')!>)
define(<!zxMINUTES!>, <!esyscmd(echo "zxWORDS / zxWPM" | bc | zxSTRIP)!>)
define(<!zxPOSTRATE!>, <!esyscmd(echo "scale=2; zxNOMESSAGES / zxDAYS" | bc | zxSTRIP)!>)
changequote()
divert(0)dnl

@ -0,0 +1,113 @@
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dumpdefdumpdef
F4,4
evaleval
T11,8
zxSTARTDATE20220713
T12,75
zxNOMESSAGESesyscmd(grep '\[tildepals\] BASEMENT QUEST' zxINBOXPATH | wc -l | zxSTRIP )
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divnumdivnum
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indirindir
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indexindex
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formatformat
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zxWORDSesyscmd(pandoc -t plain www/index.html | wc -w | zxSTRIP)
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shiftshift
T5,3
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sysvalsysval
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zxINBOXPATH/Users/cb/Library/Thunderbird/Profiles/o0gmn24o.default-release/ImapMail/imap.tilde.team/INBOX
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m4wrapm4wrap
F7,7
esyscmdesyscmd
F4,4
incrincr
T9,46
zxMINUTESesyscmd(echo "zxWORDS / zxWPM" | bc | zxSTRIP)
F6,6
divertdivert
F3,3
dnldnl
T7,30
zxSTRIP tr '\n' ' ' | sed -e 's/ //g'
F8,8
undivertundivert
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sincludesinclude
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definedefine
F8,8
undefineundefine
F6,6
regexpregexp
F9,9
debugfiledebugfile
F7,7
builtinbuiltin
T6,85
zxDAYSesyscmd(echo "(`gdate +%s` - `gdate +%s -d zxSTARTDATE`) / 86400" | bc | tr '\n' ' ')
F8,8
__file____file__
F7,7
pushdefpushdef
F11,11
changequotechangequote
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debugmodedebugmode
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traceofftraceoff
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popdefpopdef
# End of frozen state file

@ -4,9 +4,13 @@ created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
updated: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
public: yes
---
## About
## Stats
Total length: zxWORDS words / zxMINUTES minute read.
Total length: zxWORDS words / zxMINUTES minutes
There have been zxNOMESSAGES messages posted over zxDAYS days since the first post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of zxPOSTRATE.
## About
This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.
@ -15,3 +19,4 @@ This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over email.
You can [read from the beginning](#chapter-1), or jump into the [current story arc](#current-story).
If you're not on the mailing list and want to keep up with the story, you can [subscribe to the rss feed](https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml).

@ -19,7 +19,7 @@ We're gonna play this by ear, and cross each bridge only when we get to it.
- Cadence: I'll move the story along roughly once a week. Hopefully that gives everybody time to post something and participate.
- Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while and then come back, your character will immediately reappear as though they've been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door policy!
- Open Table / Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while and then come back, your character will immediately reappear as though they've been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door policy! Drop in and drop out as you please.
- Linearity: Respond only to the most recent email in the thread. (We might play around with time later, but for now, let's keep it simple.)

@ -48,6 +48,7 @@ todo:
- [ ] mio's (Inky's) Handy Duffer Discette = HD Diskette = better stay away from magnets!!
- [ ] tea omen: abacus, feather, wide building, lynx
- [ ] MidJourney omen: priestly blood, demon
- [ ] palindromes: taco cat, reward drawer, tin unit, lap pal, evil olive
- [ ] The Benefactor is Nullar
- [ ] Blavin is a secret agent, working for the Golden Iris, a secret society that wants to 'create balance' by creating a fourth god
- [ ] Nullar got tired of being a god and wanted to die, and Neddas agreed to help him. Shit went bad and turned Liandt to stone, and Nullar's leg to stone. Now Nullar is trying to gather the Ginnarak crystals to assemble the *God Slayer* to attempt once more to end his own life.

@ -207,6 +207,7 @@
</header>
<nav id="TOC" role="doc-toc">
<ul>
<li><a href="#stats" id="toc-stats">Stats</a></li>
<li><a href="#about" id="toc-about">About</a></li>
<li><a href="#characters" id="toc-characters">Characters</a>
<ul>
@ -253,8 +254,11 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<li><a href="#afterword" id="toc-afterword">Afterword</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
<p>Total length: 23421 words / 100 minute read.</p>
<p>There have been 97 messages posted over 107 days since the first post
on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90.</p>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 23381 words / 99 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -438,10 +442,10 @@ class="uri">https://t.co/gA6hV6VKqm</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><p>Cadence: Ill move the story along roughly once a week. Hopefully
that gives everybody time to post something and participate.</p></li>
<li><p>Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while and then
come back, your character will immediately reappear as though theyve
been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door
policy!</p></li>
<li><p>Open Table / Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while
and then come back, your character will immediately reappear as though
theyve been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door
policy! Drop in and drop out as you please.</p></li>
<li><p>Linearity: Respond only to the most recent email in the thread.
(We might play around with time later, but for now, lets keep it
simple.)</p></li>

@ -5,396 +5,6 @@
<title>BASEMENT QWEST</title>
<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
<item>
<title>27</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">27 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 14:14:31
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 28 Oct 2022 10:36:42 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00027">00027</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one
hand.</p>
<p>It was lighter than it should be given the density of the
contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown
weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the
clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the
continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port
town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a
mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shops dim
light.</p>
<p>It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this
particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the
shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of
their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local
sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the
hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district
at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into
the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily
wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of
the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with
assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time
and in larger quantities.</p>
<p>Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was
set to one side.</p>
<p>What were they doing?</p>
<p>If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldnt any
student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an
experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known
the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inkys funny
concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but
didnt want to say it out loud. That the long feather they
thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a
dagger. That they hadnt wanted to admit some problems could
not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they
had failed, again.</p>
<p>They hadnt searched enough for better ingredients to go
into the pudding, hadnt reacted fast enough after noticing
the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadnt thrown the large
platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had
been holding at Blavins head, or something. The sword had
gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldnt be angry with it —
it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood
pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inkys
menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly
in healers territory and just as bewildering. While it may be
true nobody could be held to account for the actions of
another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of
a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in
other peoples affairs was the surest way to get into trouble,
a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of
wandering the continent.</p>
<p>Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently
for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it
back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to
the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín
was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was
more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness,
despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this
more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?</p>
<p>After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the
producers leaflet haphazardly in an old sailors rags still
reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizards empty
cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the
floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this
one, because Inkys magic 0 ball sure doesnt make the best
life choices.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead
of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet
your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named
Inquire Within Upon Everything.</p>
<p>Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would
imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of
living documentation, drawing heavily on the port towns
cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine,
decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together
irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and
claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar
brand of overwhelming, garish charm.</p>
<p>You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his
fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that
involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to
either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish,
fanfare, and misdirection along the way.</p>
<p>He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an
ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his
left foot. “Its why I walk so slow, you see.” The other
barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a
certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have
enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he
escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
sloop <em>Diamond Howler</em> is docked. Its captain, Enid
Barlow, welcomes you aboard.</p>
<p>Before long, <em>Diamond Howler</em> pulls out under the
command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky”
Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isnt too far off the coast,
and you arrive fairly quickly.</p>
<p>“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow
mournfully. “You cant see her from up here. But you rest
assured, shes down there, resting on the seabed. She was the
best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing
goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared.
Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still dont.
But at least we know where she wound up!”</p>
<p>While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a
large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge
with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around
and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little
effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide.
“Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the
tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom
of breathing bells just last week, didnt we! Managed to scoop
up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a
breathing bell before? No? Aw, its easy! Ya just pull one on
over your head like a hood, and itll breathe for ya while
youre below the waves!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free
to react to anything that happened between arriving at the
docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding
the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>26</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">26 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly
on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between
Inkys tugging and Jarrods strong, steady hand, they manage
to hoist the wizard to his feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod
to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The
duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time,
follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside
from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage
seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot
in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of
water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the
bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a
dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: Thats not my
club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar
and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs
out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a
whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucys Basement for the trouble.
Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From
his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the
wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all
kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is
currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it!
Lets be clear. Youve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs,
with the understanding that were dangerous people. There may
be accidents on occasion. Youve learned something today,
and whats more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will
finish what we have started. Were probably the team with the
best chances, Im sure youll agree. Are you going to back the
winning play here? Either way, your decision wont change our
plans. Im sure you know how to take the win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbits good shoulder in a friendly, but
dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern
friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You are at a small port town on the northern tip of
Agendell, just past the RanaFor Valley. The sun is bright and
the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool
and salty. The floating island-city of VayNeddas, bridging
Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance
hanging in the northern sky.</p>
<p>Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies
and gear, which were generously provided to you by the
indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up
a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey
to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out
to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.</p>
<p>Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It
would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and
pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the
Sword of YamL.</p>
<p>The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of
“evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive
this whole time.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>TO THE SHIPWRECK</li>
<li>BLOODQUEST</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>23</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">23 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we dont mind much about competition, certainly
nothing wrong. Cant imagine someone to put all of their eggs
in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
crystals if hes willing to send out team after team. I mean,
were team 43, thats a lot of people to pay and a lot of
eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
crystals arent meant to go anywhere.</p>
<p>Now Im not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
shades of gray, and it isnt really my job to suss out what
youre doing. But Im a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
chance to learn I seize upon the moment. Theres something
here youre not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldnt worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactors concern is
precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
well of concentrated arcane energies. Theyre dangerous just
sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>YamLs eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
suggestion of evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: Im gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
it quicker to write</p>
<p><strong>Yaml</strong><br />
I like what youre putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. Im positive nobody will mind.
Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Yaml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
cant just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides youre a sword,
and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Yaml I think
were out of luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>YamL gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
“CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
“Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
glinting with growing ferocity. “Lets. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystals
secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
Blavins table at Lucys Basement, cleaning its feathers and
chortling merrily to itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceors
gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
Master Corraidhíns shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavins map that the Hemogoblin region is
indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, its not that
far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
than the milk youve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, youll get a new variant of the
blood pudding recipe youve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone elses mood will be improved in the meantime?
Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
the next days breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
veggies and starts pan frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00008.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>24</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
@ -645,7 +255,147 @@
about.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00001.html">www</a></p>
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00001.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>27</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">27 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 14:14:31
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 28 Oct 2022 10:36:42 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00027">00027</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one
hand.</p>
<p>It was lighter than it should be given the density of the
contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown
weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the
clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the
continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port
town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars.
Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a
mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shops dim
light.</p>
<p>It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this
particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the
shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of
their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local
sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the
hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district
at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set
up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into
the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily
wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of
the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with
assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time
and in larger quantities.</p>
<p>Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was
set to one side.</p>
<p>What were they doing?</p>
<p>If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldnt any
student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an
experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known
the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inkys funny
concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but
didnt want to say it out loud. That the long feather they
thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a
dagger. That they hadnt wanted to admit some problems could
not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they
had failed, again.</p>
<p>They hadnt searched enough for better ingredients to go
into the pudding, hadnt reacted fast enough after noticing
the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadnt thrown the large
platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had
been holding at Blavins head, or something. The sword had
gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldnt be angry with it —
it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood
pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inkys
menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was
straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly
in healers territory and just as bewildering. While it may be
true nobody could be held to account for the actions of
another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of
a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in
other peoples affairs was the surest way to get into trouble,
a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of
wandering the continent.</p>
<p>Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently
for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it
back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to
the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín
was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was
more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness,
despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in
staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this
more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?</p>
<p>After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the
producers leaflet haphazardly in an old sailors rags still
reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizards empty
cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the
floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this
one, because Inkys magic 0 ball sure doesnt make the best
life choices.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead
of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet
your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named
Inquire Within Upon Everything.</p>
<p>Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would
imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of
living documentation, drawing heavily on the port towns
cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine,
decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together
irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and
claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar
brand of overwhelming, garish charm.</p>
<p>You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his
fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that
involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to
either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish,
fanfare, and misdirection along the way.</p>
<p>He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an
ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his
left foot. “Its why I walk so slow, you see.” The other
barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a
certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have
enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he
escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the
sloop <em>Diamond Howler</em> is docked. Its captain, Enid
Barlow, welcomes you aboard.</p>
<p>Before long, <em>Diamond Howler</em> pulls out under the
command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky”
Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isnt too far off the coast,
and you arrive fairly quickly.</p>
<p>“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow
mournfully. “You cant see her from up here. But you rest
assured, shes down there, resting on the seabed. She was the
best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing
goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared.
Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still dont.
But at least we know where she wound up!”</p>
<p>While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a
large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge
with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around
and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little
effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide.
“Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the
tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom
of breathing bells just last week, didnt we! Managed to scoop
up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a
breathing bell before? No? Aw, its easy! Ya just pull one on
over your head like a hood, and itll breathe for ya while
youre below the waves!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free
to react to anything that happened between arriving at the
docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding
the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
@ -818,6 +568,256 @@
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>23</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">23 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we dont mind much about competition, certainly
nothing wrong. Cant imagine someone to put all of their eggs
in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
crystals if hes willing to send out team after team. I mean,
were team 43, thats a lot of people to pay and a lot of
eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
crystals arent meant to go anywhere.</p>
<p>Now Im not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
shades of gray, and it isnt really my job to suss out what
youre doing. But Im a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
chance to learn I seize upon the moment. Theres something
here youre not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldnt worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactors concern is
precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
well of concentrated arcane energies. Theyre dangerous just
sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>YamLs eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
suggestion of evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: Im gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
it quicker to write</p>
<p><strong>Yaml</strong><br />
I like what youre putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. Im positive nobody will mind.
Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Yaml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
cant just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides youre a sword,
and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Yaml I think
were out of luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>YamL gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
“CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
“Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
glinting with growing ferocity. “Lets. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystals
secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
Blavins table at Lucys Basement, cleaning its feathers and
chortling merrily to itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceors
gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
Master Corraidhíns shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavins map that the Hemogoblin region is
indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, its not that
far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
than the milk youve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, youll get a new variant of the
blood pudding recipe youve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone elses mood will be improved in the meantime?
Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
the next days breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
veggies and starts pan frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00008.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>26</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">26 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly
on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between
Inkys tugging and Jarrods strong, steady hand, they manage
to hoist the wizard to his feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod
to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The
duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time,
follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside
from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage
seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot
in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of
water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the
bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a
dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: Thats not my
club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar
and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs
out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a
whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucys Basement for the trouble.
Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From
his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the
wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all
kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is
currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it!
Lets be clear. Youve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs,
with the understanding that were dangerous people. There may
be accidents on occasion. Youve learned something today,
and whats more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will
finish what we have started. Were probably the team with the
best chances, Im sure youll agree. Are you going to back the
winning play here? Either way, your decision wont change our
plans. Im sure you know how to take the win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbits good shoulder in a friendly, but
dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern
friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You are at a small port town on the northern tip of
Agendell, just past the RanaFor Valley. The sun is bright and
the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool
and salty. The floating island-city of VayNeddas, bridging
Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance
hanging in the northern sky.</p>
<p>Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies
and gear, which were generously provided to you by the
indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up
a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey
to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out
to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.</p>
<p>Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It
would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and
pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the
Sword of YamL.</p>
<p>The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of
“evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive
this whole time.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>TO THE SHIPWRECK</li>
<li>BLOODQUEST</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>22</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>

@ -207,6 +207,7 @@
</header>
<nav id="TOC" role="doc-toc">
<ul>
<li><a href="#stats" id="toc-stats">Stats</a></li>
<li><a href="#about" id="toc-about">About</a></li>
<li><a href="#characters" id="toc-characters">Characters</a>
<ul>
@ -256,8 +257,11 @@ id="toc-acknowledgements">Acknowledgements</a></li>
<li><a href="#afterword" id="toc-afterword">Afterword</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
<p>Total length: 23421 words / 100 minute read.</p>
<p>There have been 97 messages posted over 107 days since the first post
on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .90 .</p>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 23381 words / 99 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -441,10 +445,10 @@ class="uri">https://t.co/gA6hV6VKqm</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><p>Cadence: Ill move the story along roughly once a week. Hopefully
that gives everybody time to post something and participate.</p></li>
<li><p>Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while and then
come back, your character will immediately reappear as though theyve
been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door
policy!</p></li>
<li><p>Open Table / Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while
and then come back, your character will immediately reappear as though
theyve been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door
policy! Drop in and drop out as you please.</p></li>
<li><p>Linearity: Respond only to the most recent email in the thread.
(We might play around with time later, but for now, lets keep it
simple.)</p></li>
@ -3198,6 +3202,8 @@ Discette = HD Diskette = better stay away from magnets!!</li>
building, lynx</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />MidJourney omen: priestly
blood, demon</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />palindromes: taco cat, reward
drawer, tin unit, lap pal, evil olive</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />The Benefactor is Nullar</li>
<li><input type="checkbox" disabled="" />Blavin is a secret agent,
working for the Golden Iris, a secret society that wants to create

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