end of chapter 3
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src/paths/werehare.md
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src/chapter1.md
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src/chapter2.md
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src/chapter3.md
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src/epistolary/index.md
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src/epistolary/00038.md
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src/epistolary/00039.md
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src/epistolary/00053.md
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src/bestiary/index.md
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src/bestiary/aur.md
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src/bestiary/blahoblin.md
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---
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title: 00038
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created: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:25 -0700
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updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:35 -0700
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syndicated: yes
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public: yes
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---
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### 00038 {#00038}
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> The mission, party-wise, had been an abject failure.
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>
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> They had found the crystal, and Master Corraidhín had vanished.
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> Inky wasn't sure which was worse — the appalling lack of
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> water-resistant fireworks surrounding the disappearance, or the
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> bears' ceaseless waterworks in grief over their ghostly
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> counterparts. Said bears plus a giant manta ray were eventually
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> left with the remains of Inky's two snack stashes. (The third was
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> back on the *Diamond Howler*.) The crystal was currently securely
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> hidden away inside the Milk Market, which was for the best. Inky
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> was not about to drag around an inedible melon that could
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> potentially level entire cities, if the wizard's hints about its
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> power were true. The crystal-retrieval missions were a cover anyway
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> — Inky had gotten what they were looking for. The equipment and
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> provisions sponsored by the Benefactor were a handy bonus though.
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>
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> Inside the tent, Inky adds the finishing flourishes to a package
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> and places it to one side, next to two others of a similar size and
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> a thin envelope already piled inside a padded sack on the ground.
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> The client should be pleased. It had taken longer, but the result
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> had been worth the additional hassle. The envelope, on the other
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> hand … who knew what had become of the previous one, sent in an
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> impulsive fit of post-dive haze once the ship had docked at the
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> port town. Donning a grey fedora, a worn light brown jacket, a
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> flask kettle and a wooden box with carrying straps, Inky the "Tiny"
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> tea seller leisurely sets off for the post office, sack in hand.
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>
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> It was still a bit strange — if less shocking than the first time
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> it happened — to speak in rabbiton with the postmistress at the
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> counter, although Inky couldn't actually detect any significant
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> differences from the common tongue besides occasionally being
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> reminded they shouldn't be able to understand the sounds at all.
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> Rabbiton or rabbitoff, hare mail couriers are among the fastest
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> across Basmentaria and will ensure any parcels and letters arrive
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> at their recipients in a timely manner. Due to their broad network
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> and high delivery confidence, letters without return addresses were
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> no issue; they can deliver with a valid recipient address, which
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> they are able to verify from an extensive series of registries and
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> course codes before taking the item. So it was that one such
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> envelope containing yet another somewhat unusual recipe was
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> promptly delivered to the Milk Market's ground floor on a blustery
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> Boltday afternoon.
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>
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> Postage done, Inky wanders through one of the city's seedier
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> districts, peddling cups of hot tea along the way. This had become
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> a daily routine for a little over a month since the Sugrin Sea
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> mission (longer and more sporadically before that whenever the imp
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> was in the city), including a spontaneous fifteen-minute "Tiny
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> Teatime" held in open areas such as small parks, or occasionally in
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> a back alley between several crowded residences. The tea happening
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> had initially been a whimsical response to *Teatime with Tanokuma*
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> and still regularly attracted children when iced drinks were served
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> during the summertime.
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>
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> Rows of slightly crooked houses sandwiched among acacia trees line
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> a narrow, winding lane. Inky passes the elderly playing tabula
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> surrounded by a small group of onlookers, people chewing on sweet
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> lemongrass or peeling vegetables, hanging up laundry on colourful
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> lines made of scrap rags, children laughing and chasing soapy
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> bubbles with wands dripping from laundry water, and all sorts of
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> activity that made houses into homes. Many of them were frank about
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> not having any spare coins for extras like speciality teas brewed
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> "just like them shops", but gladly accepted a steaming bamboo cup
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> upon realising they needn't pay, if sometimes a little suspiciously
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> at first. Instead of coin, they held a rich font of stories, local
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> legends, folk remedies, cooking methods, insider tip-offs and
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> rumours, which they were often eager to impart to an attentive
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> audience.
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>
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> Some of the passer-by were always in a hurry, downing the tea as
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> though it were a shot of hard liquor before retrieving a handful of
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> loose coins from a pocket or sock. When Inky smiled and told them
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> there was no charge, most would return a puzzled look or uncertain
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> smile, or roll their eyes, and drop a copper coin into a slot on
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> the lid of the box anyway. A few had promptly walked off wordlessly
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> with snickering faces, as though they had gotten away with
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> something clever. Regardless, it was one of the best ways to see
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> and observe a bustling metropolis. No one took any particular
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> notice of young urchins and vendors selling refreshments, flowers
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> and various trinkets on the streets.
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>
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> Likewise no one witnessed a tea seller pause near one of the
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> windows at the back of Enrique's Empanada Emporium late in the day.
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> For a while they watch the chef within in action, clearly in his
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> element, before reluctantly pulling away and retreating quietly up
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> the stairs to the second floor. They should wash up and see if
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> their marketing manager is in the mood for some takeout and
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> Terrapin Ale this evening.
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~
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> Background: Alex isn't young, but in comparison to his whizzened
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> uncle Corraidhin he's the depiction of youth. He has jet black hair
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> and alert blue eyes, and a quiet serenity about him that gives one
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> pause, as though he's constantly calculating. He gives into his
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> passions quickly however, and becomes rather animated when his
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> emotions break loose. He'll be the first to curse his uncle for his
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> foolish endeavors, never quite understanding the sysorcerer's way.
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> Early in life, after the death of his parents, Corraidhin took him
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> under his wing and tried in vain to teach him the ways of magical
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> systems administration. Much to Corraidhin, it only resulted in
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> damaged systems, and a rift with his nephew.
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>
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> It took years to recover from that, but eventually the two grew
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> close again, though distant nonetheless. That closeness reflects
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> itself in the situation Alex finds himself in now, a mysterious
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> alert from some overly contrived magical system, ruining his
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> perfectly good winning streak. It's not that he was necessary bad
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> at all of that stuff, it just, wasn't as much fun as gambling. And
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> it certainly wasn't as exhillerating as writing malware.
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>
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> Breaking into a system, smashing it to bites and pieces, watching
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> the carefully wrought design burn in amber and green, now THAT was
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> magic.
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>
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> META: Alex is like Corraidhin in some aspects, he's younger, more
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> brash, more given to whim and fancy. He's somewhat greedy and
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> craven, attracted to riches far too easily. He's a passionate
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> gambler, not due to his skill, but by virtue of his ability to
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> distract and confuse, which gives him a delightful edge. Some would
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> call it lucky, but he calls it subterfuge. He has some sysorcerer
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> skills, nothing quite as flexible as Corraidhin, but he
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> delightfully wreaks havoc with worms, scrapers, ransom & spyware.
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> If he can't bypass something, he'll delightfully destroy it. If he
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> can't break in, he'll distract someone or something so he can slip
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> by.
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>
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> (Think rogue + illusion magic, where Corraidhin is straight Wizard)
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>
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> Introduction: Kev, just give it to me straight, the hell does this
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> Deadman's trigger mean. You can't have a service like that flap,
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> it's a boolean, you're either dead or your not. And don't try to
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> lie to me, I'm not some project managing schmuck, you know full and
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> well Uncle Corraidhin taught me. I know enough to tell when you're
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> lying.
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>
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> (Kevin) Ah, well, umm. Yes I suppose that's true. You can't be dead
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> and not. It's just not an option. But Zabbix doesn't lie! It's what
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> monitors your Uncle's life force, the state of his infrastructure
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> so to speak. Look check your own, there's nothing to indicate any
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> issue with you, but your uncle's fluxuates consistently. None of
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> his other state checks are failing though! So it could just be a
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> problem with his Deadman's trigger code.
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>
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> Absolutely not. Corraidhin might be a flighty fool, but he's not
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> someone who would deploy faulty code to production. There's no way
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> in hell it would get past his linter, let alone all of the QA he
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> does before it even gets that far. Look, what the hell did you drag
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> him into, you know exactly what he gets up to, just point me in his
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> direction so I can get this shit over with.
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>
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> (Kevin) Hmm, he didn't really want me to talk about it, but last I
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> saw him, he was babbling on and on about some magical Json sword or
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> something. I couldn't quite keep up with it.
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>
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> You were trying to get him to buy into KDL again weren't you?
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>
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> (Kevin) It's a good language I swear, and if your uncle had just..
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> (Alex cuts him off)
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>
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> Hush it. What did the sword look like, where was he headed?
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>
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> (Kevin) *sigh* it was large, with a ruby hilt, and a magical eye of
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> some sort. I'm certain if you just ask around you'll find it. Just
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> ask about the sysorcerer who mutters to his sword, that's how the
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> poor bastard is remembered around here these days.
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>
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>
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> With this information Alex departed the Sysorcerer's guild in
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> search of his Uncle. As he asked around town, people shied away.
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> Nasty business talking about that one, they'd tell him. A few
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> mentioned something about an attack, and a dagger and bloodlust the
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> likes of which they'd only heard from the bard at their local
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> tavern. None of this sounded like the Uncle he remembered, but he
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> followed the trail until it lead him to the Milk Maid.
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>
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> As Alex checked around for someone, anyone who seemed to be in the
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> know, he spotted Inky, serving tea as she watched the ongoings at
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> the Empanada shop near the Milk Maid.
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>
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> Excuse me, miss? You wouldn't have happened to seen my Uncle, he's
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> an old whizened fellow. Constantly harrumphs and goes on and on
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> endlessly about some magical script, or how much he hates the
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> School of Powershell. I haven't been able to find him, and I've
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> been looking all over the city for the better part of 3 days. Note
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> even his best friend Kevin at the Sysorcer's guild knew where he
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> was, and I'm just, I'm at a bit of a loss..
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>
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> *sigh* I'm sorry to just unload on your like that. If you don't
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> know him that's okay, I'd be happy to pay for a cup of tea for your
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> time.
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~
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> *(Two days prior)*
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>
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> An office, barely illuminated by the glow of a moonstone lamp.
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>
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> An elf attired in red silk dress robes with a shimmering pattern of
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> butterflies, a red floral picture hat and matching high heel boots
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> lounged in the visitor's chair in front of a heavy wooden desk. The
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> charms dangling from her wrist circlets tinkled as she reached for
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> a teacup. A silver tray was placed to one side of the desk with a
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> pot of maghrebi francus, two porcelain cups and a bowl of sugar
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> cubes. The remaining surface was mostly covered by a map of
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> Basmentaria, the moonstone lamp and a short stack of books. Behind
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> the desk sat an imp in a midnight blue suit, a dart pen balanced on
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> the edge of two fingers of one hand, while the other tapped a
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> silent rhythm on the pineapple leather armrest.
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>
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> The lady in dress robes spoke first. "I made some inquiries. That
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> sysorcerer acquaintance of yours seems to be stuck in some sort of
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> spatial-temporal loop. The anomalies are usually salvageable given
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> time and expert attention. His nephew is out looking for him now."
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> She hands the imp a sheet with a drawing of a pensive but
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> bright-eyed young man with dark hair, and several lines of notes
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> below. "How are things at your end?"
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>
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> "The situation is tenable for the moment. One checked, another
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> disengaged. Between the wizard and bard, Blackfoot will think twice
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> before making any more untoward moves. One of the waiters at the
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> club said the bard gave him a little dressing-down after the
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> stabbing. He was practically shaking in his boots by the end of
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> it."
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>
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> The elf laughed. "I read your earlier missive. Slipping a catalyst
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> into a milk pudding to stir up a bloodthirsty sword? I guess you
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> were pretty sure the thirst wouldn't get out of hand and kill the
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> hobbit outright."
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>
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> "Not entirely, but the good wizard would fight it with considerable
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> strength of will. That guild of his may be full of white hats too
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> busy with their petty squabbling over semantics to see trouble
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> looming until it smacked them in their faces, but they have their
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> principles and will not give in easily when challenged." The imp
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> grimaced. "An unpleasant matter but arguably a necessity. It was
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> only a matter of time before the cursed sword would find itself a
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> target. May as well put evil to good use."
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>
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> "You did what you had to do, Ink. And that sailor with the gold
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> eye?"
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>
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> "Met with an unfortunate … accident. Securing the crystal would
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> have been sufficient, but the horkosgrampus weren't terribly
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> impressed with him. The Benefactor should be relieved. Men of their
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> ilk would sooner sell to the highest bidder." The pen twirled in
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> their hand once, twice, before pausing with the nib pointing
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> downward at a spot on the map. The imp continued, "All the more
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> reason to move as soon as the young man finds his uncle. Kelsun
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> Peak, most likely."
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>
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> "Right. I'll let the others know if anything happens." She rose to
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> her heels in a whisper of brocade silks. "Do you want an antidote
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> for … ?" She gestured with a slim, graceful hand framed in delicate
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> strands of the gold bracelets towards her companion.
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>
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> The imp inclined their head slightly in grateful acknowledgement.
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> "No need. The condition is relatively harmless and reversing the
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> effects now might raise suspicion. The postmistress at the Hutcheon
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> Lane branch of Leplus Post was very tickled by it."
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>
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> "I see. So that's how it is." she replied with undisguised mirth.
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> The imp ignored her smirk. "Please see to it the preparations are
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> carried out. The fate of your beloved operetta house may well
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> depend upon it."
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>
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> "You would never!" The elven lady exclaimed in mock affront. "No, I
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> wouldn't, even though it is the bane of all fine glassware.
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> However, if the crystals came to less discerning hands …" They
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> shared a solemn look before the elf nodded and swept out of the
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> room, leaving the cloying scent of violets in her path.
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>
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> ~
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>
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> Inky gestures wordlessly for the young wizard to follow them
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> upstairs to the second floor of the Milk Market, heading straight
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> for the room at one end of a long hallway.
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>
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> As Inky enters, their small and fluffy marketing manager pops its
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> head out of the wooden tub of water standing to one side of the
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> room. "We have a visitor!" Inky cheerfully tells the duck. Their
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> marketing manager looks back at them both and says, "QUACK!"
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>
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> Inky turns back to the young man with a smile. "Please have a seat.
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> How may we address you? Tea? No charge for Master Corraidhín's
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> nephew, of course."
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>
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> Once seated on some cushions thrown over a slightly ratty tartan
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> rug and having poured out a steaming cup of mandarin pekoe for each
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> of them, Inky begins, "So, about your uncle. The good news is, we
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> know him. The bad news is, we knew him." They then proceed to
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> recount the events of their latest mission at the site of a
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> shipwreck out in the Sugrin Sea, and the elder sysorcerer's
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> disappearance.
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Prelude:
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A fringe movement of lunatic paleornithologists and crackpots of
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various other professions has slowly been gaining traction over the
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last few decades. The movement was born when the enterprising Modern
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Fuchsia, at the time a budding young scientist on a dig yearning to
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make a name for himself, found the fossil of a modern feathered
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bird---probably some kind of swallow---alongside a theropod, that
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variety of dinosaur widely accepted to be the ancestor of modern
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birds. Faced with what he believed to be irrefutable evidence of a
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modern descendant coexisting alongside its own ancient ancestor,
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Fuchsia arrived at the only conclusion he was capable of making:
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Birds Are Not Dinosaurs. And thus BAND came into being.
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Ever since, Fuschia and his BANDits have spent considerable amounts
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of time and energy attending conferences and publishing papers,
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pouting and demanding to be taken seriously by the wider scientific
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community. A community which, if it pays them any attention at all,
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merely mocks and ridicules their crackpot theories.
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Modern Fuschia is of course wrong. But neither he nor his BANDits
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know how dangerously close he came to the actual truth.
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For much, much deeper in the shadowy fringes of paleornithology,
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there is a clandestine operation called BATT. And only BATT knows the
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actual explanation for how a modern descendant might coexist
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alongside its own ancestor. Birds Are Time Travelers.
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In the far future when birds are the dominant intelligent life on
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Basmentaria, they do indeed invent time travel. The end result was
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catastrophic and is the real reason that the dinosaurs went extinct.
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It is a common misconception that barn swallows are the most common
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and widespread species of swallow. That distinction in fact belongs
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to the *time swallow*. Although---if you're lucky---you'll never
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actually see one. Since the Incident, the secret agents of BATT have
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vowed never again to interfere with or try to alter the time stream.
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Nor to allow anyone else to. The time swallows are special bred,
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special trained, appearing wherever and whenever an anomaly appears
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to remove it and restore the proper timeline. The tiny birds quite
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literally swallow, consume, and destroy anything that meddles with
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time.
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At their headquarters, in the present day, BATT Director Purple
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Martin is delivering a report to his superior. Martin has a throaty
|
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and rich voice of which he is self-conscious in the presence of his
|
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superior's persistent silence.
|
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|
||||
"We have successfully extracted the sysorcerer and have repaired the
|
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anomaly. The subject is currently under the care of Felixe and is
|
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expected to make a full recovery. In his possession were a couple of
|
||||
interesting artifacts. One Class C sentient object, a sword. And a
|
||||
piece of exotica of unknown origin. Our researchers so far suspect
|
||||
that it is a sort of reliquary containing both elemental and divine
|
||||
arcana. The xot's physical manifestation---a crystalline ore---thus
|
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far prevents us from determining the precise identity of the arcana."
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|
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Director Purple Martin is delivering this report to a lanky, thin man
|
||||
folded into an armchair. He wears thin, wire spectacles with round
|
||||
lenses, and dangles a walking stick over the arm of the chair as he
|
||||
sits. He interrupts Martin with a rare utterance. "The reliquary. I
|
||||
shall like to see it."
|
||||
|
||||
Now then:
|
||||
|
||||
Retrieval Team 43 welcomes Alex into their ranks even as they mourn
|
||||
the loss of Corraidhín the Wizened.
|
||||
|
||||
It starts off as a somber affair at Lucy's as you all sit around your
|
||||
regular table, ensconced and wedged into a corner surrounded on two
|
||||
sides by the red velvet curtains that line the walls.
|
||||
|
||||
But then the hobbit joins you.
|
||||
|
||||
Blavin Blandfoot orders a round of drinks in tribute to Corraidhín.
|
||||
And then another round of drinks to welcome his nephew Alex. "A
|
||||
family affair, is it not!" And then another round of drinks because
|
||||
he is thirsty.
|
||||
|
||||
The hobbit is in high spirits, brimming with flair and good cheer.
|
||||
His arm is fully healed from the attack over a month ago at this very
|
||||
table. His fond memories and frequent toasts to the sysorcerer make
|
||||
no reference to the incident.
|
||||
|
||||
"The Benefactor is immensely pleased with your performance so far!"
|
||||
He punches a new hole in your Frequent Retrieval cards. "You are one
|
||||
step closer to winning a FABULOUS PRIZE! I don't mind telling you I'm
|
||||
a little jealous. Assuming you go the distance, of course. I mean who
|
||||
doesn't love hot dogs and hot tubs!" He winks conspiratorially at
|
||||
you. "To say nothing of actually getting to meet the Benefactor! Just
|
||||
imagine!"
|
||||
|
||||
After a few more drinks he eventually clears a space on the table and
|
||||
rolls out a map of Basmentaria. "We once again have two reports of a
|
||||
crystal spotting!" He jabs a finger at the mountain range in northern
|
||||
Primora. "The first, as you know, has been reported by the zephynos
|
||||
high atop Kelsun Peak."
|
||||
|
||||
"The second," his voice quivers with excitement. He looks up at you
|
||||
wide-eyed and gestures away from the map into open space. "Is on the
|
||||
moon!"
|
||||
|
||||
Seated a couple tables away from you is the same trio who were
|
||||
present the last time you all met here: a dusty groll, a matted gnu,
|
||||
and a curious Ornithologer. The observant among you, if you happened
|
||||
to look, would notice that the Ornithologer wears a pinkish purplish
|
||||
red armband with the word BAND on it. They listen to your proceedings
|
||||
with great interest while trying really hard to look like they're not
|
||||
listening. After Blavin's final proclamation, the trio finishes their
|
||||
drinks, stands, and starts to leave the dining room.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
- Do you give the second crystal to Blavin?
|
||||
- Do you choose to go to Kelsun Peak, or to the moon?
|
||||
- Who is the Lady in Red and what does she want?
|
||||
- Will Corraidhín recover in the care of Felixe?
|
||||
- Who does the Director of BATT report to and what do they want with
|
||||
the 1st Crystal?
|
||||
- What's the deal with the Ornithologer's Trio?
|
||||
- Who left you the note signed with an iris and apple?
|
||||
|
||||
Find out next time on BASEMENT QUEST
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00097.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,212 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00039
|
||||
created: Sat, 19 Nov 2022 07:38:02 -0700
|
||||
updated: Fri, 25 Nov 2022 07:11:12 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00039 {#00039}
|
||||
|
||||
> Alex silently observes the party and this foolish hobbit, before him
|
||||
> three untouched drinks have accumulated. He's a little less
|
||||
> enthusiatic about taking drink from strangers, too much risk in that.
|
||||
> As Blavin describes this crystal, whatever it may be, he catches a
|
||||
> glimpse of the pinkish purplish armband on the party across from
|
||||
> them. They don't look out of place given the patrons at the tavern,
|
||||
> but he's certain they were listening in on the animated conversation
|
||||
> of the hobbit. It could be nothing, or it coule be connected to
|
||||
> Corraidhin, best to put a bug on them Alex thinks.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Silently beneath the table and out of site Alex prepares a bug and
|
||||
> sets it off to follow the person with the armband. Once the bug
|
||||
> catches up to the part it's programmed to perform a tcpdump and
|
||||
> capture information streaming around it, and then report back to Alex
|
||||
> once full. By no means a perfect method of spying, but it's low
|
||||
> energy and can be maintained from great distances without taxing
|
||||
> Alex's energy.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> As Blavin comes back to the group from his grandoise space commentary
|
||||
> Alex begins to question him.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Enough of your theatrics hobbit. Tell me about the mark, you've
|
||||
> obviously tipped off the entire tavern as to the whereabouts of
|
||||
> whatever it is you're looking for, so give us an edge, something
|
||||
> those evesdroppers a table over don't have. And cut this tripe about
|
||||
> your benefactor, who is he, and what does he want with this magical
|
||||
> baubbles.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> As Alex finishes his questions he sits quietly for a moment staring
|
||||
> down Blavin.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> During this outburts, as all eyes turn to Blavin for his response,
|
||||
> Alex casts yet another bug. This one sneaks onto the personage of
|
||||
> Blavin himself. Programmed the same way.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> We'll get information from someone, subtle, or not if needed.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
> Inky watches with faint amusement as a magical device, likely a
|
||||
> probe, found its way onto their mission handler.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Inky might have missed the slight movement under the table if they
|
||||
> weren't waiting for it, having received word of the younger wizard's
|
||||
> penchant for pre-emptive offence magic. As it were, the offices and
|
||||
> surrounding premises were routinely swept for similar devices, a more
|
||||
> recent example of which had been placed in plain sight by an
|
||||
> overzealous tabloid writer hoping to pick up an exclusive reveal. The
|
||||
> quality of the contraption, which had immediately fallen apart when
|
||||
> detached from its gum adhesive on the back of a glass vase, had been
|
||||
> almost insulting.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> It seems Blackfoot hadn't learned his lesson after all, and if Alex
|
||||
> was keen to give him a reminder, Inky had no objection. As Blavin
|
||||
> takes another swig from his sixth drink of the evening, the waitress
|
||||
> smiling at him with a wink as she set down their glasses before
|
||||
> skating away to take another order (Inky made sure tip her liberally
|
||||
> for the attentive service), Inky let their line of sight flicker to a
|
||||
> fuchsia-coloured band on a departing customer's arm.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Inky smiles internally at the sight — they can almost hear Beaker's
|
||||
> crow of dismay. The poor kingfisher had been under increased pressure
|
||||
> of late from other scientific associations and prominent speakers to
|
||||
> exclude BAND from presenting at one of the largest annual ornithology
|
||||
> conferences of the year on accusations of spreading misinformation
|
||||
> and junk science in addition to attempting to erase the history of
|
||||
> native bird tribes. There had been a huge row, which ended with the
|
||||
> BANDits storming off, yelling about "the proof being crystal clear"
|
||||
> and that they will bring "ancient arcane evidence". The Alcedinian
|
||||
> researcher had lamented the halcyon days when conferences were
|
||||
> avenues for scientific exchange, not twittering soapboxes. Not that
|
||||
> anyone who had ever tried to arrange any gathering of birds of a
|
||||
> feather really thought things simply glided along smoothly before.
|
||||
> However, the advent of dedicated carrier pigeon networks had made it
|
||||
> easier to relay research to and from smaller communities, opening the
|
||||
> pathways for their participation, including a few somewhat
|
||||
> Controversial fringe groups like BAND.
|
||||
|
||||
Alex attempts to shake down the hobbit, who titters merrily at his
|
||||
demands.
|
||||
|
||||
"You know nearly everything I do, dear! Your *mark* as you put it,"
|
||||
Blaven theatrically drops his voice as he looks around for
|
||||
eavesdroppers, "would be the zephynos of Kelsun Peak should you
|
||||
choose to go that route.
|
||||
|
||||
"If you choose to go to the moon, you'll have a harder go of it," he
|
||||
frowns. He flips the map over and draws four circles in a straight
|
||||
line. They have the proportions of a grapefruit, an orange, a
|
||||
tangerine, and an orange. He jabs a finger at the grapefruit. "This
|
||||
is us, here, earth." He points at the two oranges and the tangerine.
|
||||
"And these are our planet's moons." He points to them in order.
|
||||
"Selene, the Green Lady. Moonmoon. And Lua, the Red Lady. Recently,
|
||||
as you well know, we had a super eclipse in which these four bodies
|
||||
and the sun all lined up in perfect alignment. The combined magnetic
|
||||
pull of the spheres allowed a rare commingling of the ionic spheres,
|
||||
and our instruments were able to detect the crystal somewhere out
|
||||
there in space. If I were to bet on it, I would put my money on Lua."
|
||||
He points to the farthest moon, the Red Lady, with its own tiny
|
||||
satellite, Moonmoon. He looks up at you and explains, "She's far
|
||||
enough away that her ionosphere would never make contact with ours
|
||||
except for in this particular, rare circumstance. That's why the
|
||||
crystal has escaped our detection for so long."
|
||||
|
||||
"As for the Benefactor!" He brightens up. "He's a magnificent fellow
|
||||
as you well know! A renowned collector. His wishes are to preserve
|
||||
the crystals and protect them (and us!) from their misuse or
|
||||
mishandling! He has a hot tub!" he winks at you. "Speaking of
|
||||
crystals," he adds as an afterthought, taking another sip of his
|
||||
drink, "why don't you hand that crystal over to me and I'll deliver
|
||||
it to the Benefactor. That is what he's paying you for after all!"
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on the Ornithologer Trio
|
||||
4, 5 = Mixed Success
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
The Ornithologer's Trio leaves Lucy's Basement quite oblivious to
|
||||
their bug. The Ornithologer turns out to be the orator of their
|
||||
little group, ranting about the conspiracy, the attempted cover up,
|
||||
about how Big Science wants to convince you that birds are dinosaurs
|
||||
but they're just pulling the wool over your eyes. The truth is right
|
||||
there in the fossil record for crying out loud! All you have to do is
|
||||
look for yourself. Nobody these days wants to *think* is the problem.
|
||||
They just get their information from the authorities and take it as
|
||||
gospel, but they don't see that the authorities have adopted a
|
||||
narrative that suits their own ends.
|
||||
|
||||
At which point the groll interjects and asks what is the end goal of
|
||||
Big Science, and how exactly does convincing the proletariat that
|
||||
birds are dinosaurs help achieve it?
|
||||
|
||||
The BANDit scowls and answers, Look, you just don't get it, okay!
|
||||
|
||||
The three split up and go their separate ways and disappear into the
|
||||
night.
|
||||
|
||||
You learn the following, one of which is true, one of which is false,
|
||||
and one of which is meaningless.
|
||||
|
||||
1. BAND plans to intercept the CRYSTAL of VOID and use it to petition
|
||||
the Insatiable Wyrm for definitive proof that Birds Are Not
|
||||
Dinosaurs. In this way they shall shame their fellow
|
||||
paleornithologists and earn their rightful place at the table of Big
|
||||
Science, which they have spent decades undermining.
|
||||
|
||||
2. The Gnu Zealots intend to reverse engineer the power of the
|
||||
crystals, create a newborn godling, and then release their findings,
|
||||
thus laying the foundation of the world's first truly open source
|
||||
religion
|
||||
|
||||
3. The trio seeks the crystals not at all, but in fact search for
|
||||
Sitopotnia, creator and progenitor of the entire amaizeon
|
||||
race---including corbits, aurs, centaurs, and others---and the only
|
||||
mortal in the history of Basmentaria to successfully take the mantle
|
||||
of creation from the overgods.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on Blaven
|
||||
1, 3 = Things go poorly, gain 1 xp
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
Meanwhile, Blaven slips out into the early, early morning carrying
|
||||
his own bug. He whistles tunelessly to himself as he sails down the
|
||||
street with a wide and veering but surprisingly steady gait.
|
||||
|
||||
Once he gets a few blocks away, his gait narrows and his step becomes
|
||||
more lively, a bit jaunty. He stands upright and ceases whistling.
|
||||
All signs of drunkenness disappear as he tugs on his sleeves and
|
||||
straightens his vest, and runs a hand through his hair.
|
||||
|
||||
He meets a goblin catcher in the street going the other way, wearily
|
||||
making his way home after a long night's work. He wears a tiny goblin
|
||||
in a glass jar around his neck, as is the signifier of his trade. And
|
||||
he carries over his shoulder a large cloth sack, the contents of
|
||||
which writhe and kick. Looks like it was a productive night for our
|
||||
goblin catcher! Blaven gives him a little bow and a salute, laughs,
|
||||
and pats him on the back in passing, deftly transferring the bug.
|
||||
"Good night for it then ey?" he calls cheerily. The goblin catcher
|
||||
smiles politely, mumbles a nicety, and carries on.
|
||||
|
||||
Later, hidden safely away from spying eyes and listening ears, Blaven
|
||||
sits at his desk, putting the final flourishes on a missive. He sits
|
||||
back and re-reads it to himself, lips moving silently. He nods and
|
||||
smiles, satisfied, and reaches for a stamp to sign the letter. He
|
||||
presses it into a dark red ink pad and then onto the parchment,
|
||||
leaving the image of an apple and iris. He sands the paper, carefully
|
||||
folds it, and places it in an envelope.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
Note: Feel free to back up and play out some more conversation at
|
||||
Lucy's before Blavin leaves if you want to.
|
||||
|
||||
Options on the table:
|
||||
|
||||
- To the mountains!
|
||||
- To the moon!
|
||||
- Something else!
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00103.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,216 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00040
|
||||
created: Sun, 27 Nov 2022 01:30:42 -0700
|
||||
updated: Wed, 14 Dec 2022 05:41:15 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00040 {#00040}
|
||||
|
||||
> As Blavin finished his afterthought about handing over the crystal,
|
||||
> a yelp was the only warning they heard before a young waiter was
|
||||
> suddenly half-sprawled over the hobbit, a tray of ginger beers
|
||||
> toppled from his hand and the mugs' contents splashed onto the
|
||||
> hobbit's front, though fortunately some of it ended up in a large
|
||||
> puddle on the ground rather than on Blavin's person. The waiter had
|
||||
> tripped over a bag on the floor on his way to the table two over
|
||||
> from theirs and was scrambling to his feet.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "By Nullar's nuts, I— OH SH——!! S-s-sorry, sir! Hold on, l-lemme
|
||||
> get— uh—" the waiter looked around frantically. The waitress who
|
||||
> had brought their drinks rushed over with some clean dry towels, a
|
||||
> few of which she handed to the other waiter, and they both
|
||||
> proceeded to wipe and dab at Blavin's damp clothes amid the hapless
|
||||
> waiter's babbled apologies. Under the cover of the towels, the
|
||||
> waitress patted down the hobbit's vest and replaced the sheaf of
|
||||
> papers she had covertly lifted from one of the vest pockets earlier
|
||||
> with a beguiling smile and wink. Once the beer on the floor had
|
||||
> been cleaned up (the despondent young waiter had offered to pay for
|
||||
> Blavin's next two rounds of drinks) and the waiters had moved on to
|
||||
> serve other customers, Inky spoke.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "You don't mind that we prefer to deliver it to the Benefactor
|
||||
> personally, of course," Inky piped cheerily, referring to the
|
||||
> crystal. "The late wizard thought it was prudent to cover our bases
|
||||
> since you're a new, untested case manager after all. Besides, a
|
||||
> little delayed gratification never hurt anybody, did it?" Inky
|
||||
> smiled and raised their drink. "Another toast in tribute to Master
|
||||
> Corraidhín! May his courage and buoyant spirit guide us on our next
|
||||
> mission!"
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ~
|
||||
>
|
||||
> When Inky stepped out of the tavern and was a few paces away,
|
||||
> someone clattered through the door and called out, "Hey! You forgot
|
||||
> your takeout!"
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Inky turned in the direction of the voice. It was the waitress who
|
||||
> had served their table earlier. She waved a brown paper bag in one
|
||||
> hand. Inky gave her an embarrassed smile and said, "Thanks." As the
|
||||
> bag changed hands, the waitress mouthed soundlessly, *We'll report
|
||||
> any more.* She went back inside, and Inky strolled off into the
|
||||
> cool night air with the bag securely tucked away next to a tea
|
||||
> pouch and a more pressing question: what blend would go best with
|
||||
> fried tofurkey balls?
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ~
|
||||
>
|
||||
> *(Meanwhile)*
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "The BANDit and his associates had gone to the tavern." His
|
||||
> assistant looked up from the scrap of paper held under a claw.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Beaker heaved a sigh and rubbed the tips of one wing against his
|
||||
> forehead. Surely he had better things to do than play Eye Spy over
|
||||
> a bunch of crackpots, such as peer reviewing the latest draft of a
|
||||
> paper on the development of Cerylidian hunting techniques for an
|
||||
> upcoming issue of *The Ichnition*. But Cio seemed to think
|
||||
> something may come of it and unfortunately, she was usually right
|
||||
> about troublemakers.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "Tell them to continue tailing from a distance," he replied with a
|
||||
> distracted wave, and his assistant left the room.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Anyway, if he had the spare time, he could look at more interesting
|
||||
> things, like the data he had collected surrounding the
|
||||
> disappearance of the time anomaly that had popped up a few weeks
|
||||
> ago. It had happened gradually, and he still wasn't entirely sure
|
||||
> what had caused this particular incident, but the signals picked up
|
||||
> by his instruments had later faded, just like other ones before it.
|
||||
> Still, it was comparatively larger than previous ones, and seemed
|
||||
> to have taken slightly longer to dissipate, which meant more data
|
||||
> points.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> He stole another glance at his Dat repositories before sighing
|
||||
> again, swivelling his chair and attention back to the manuscript
|
||||
> before him. Work first … then more work.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
> The party dispersed after the discussion with Blavin. Nobody had
|
||||
> wanted to relinquish the crystal to him, personally Alex felt that
|
||||
> was prudent, though he still wasn't sure what the point of it all
|
||||
> was. The foolish hobbit had blathered on and on about their "mark"
|
||||
> tactfully ignoring the real questions. And then the bug, damn it,
|
||||
> the bug that chittered on about absolutely nothing for hours. It
|
||||
> didn't take Alex too long to figure out why, but he clung to the
|
||||
> transmission until it died out hoping he'd be mistaken.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> So there he sat, in the attic of his once Uncle, staring bleakly
|
||||
> into a cup of dark black coffee. The desk strewn with hastily
|
||||
> scratched notes pulled from the bugs feeds. At least the one that
|
||||
> had tracked that nosey group had proved somewhat helpful. Turns out
|
||||
> this little group has less friends than a drunk who's run up their
|
||||
> tab.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Still, there's no point to share any of this information. It's too
|
||||
> loose, not definitive enough to action with the group.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex begins to pen a message to an fellow operative, in hopes that
|
||||
> HQ will pick it up and assign someone to the task.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
> <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
|
||||
> -> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
|
||||
>
|
||||
> CLEARANCE: SECRET
|
||||
> PACKET ENCLOSED. YOUR EYES ONLY.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> REQUESTING DETAIL ON BLAVIN
|
||||
> EMPLOY OF "THE BENEFACTOR"
|
||||
> PERCEPTIVE, AWARE OF BUGS.
|
||||
> DO NOT CONTACT, DO NOT DISRUPT
|
||||
> EXTREME CAUTION IMPERATIVE.
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Once penned Alex encrypts it with GPG and sends it along. These
|
||||
> channels have worked well for him in the past. If Blavin wants to
|
||||
> play games, then games we shall have.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "I hate to do this" Alex mumbles to himself. "Normally I'd trail
|
||||
> him myself, but I don't think I have much say in the matter." As it
|
||||
> stands the group is dead set on gathering more of these cyrstals,
|
||||
> regardless of what the danger may be, and if Alex wants to find his
|
||||
> Uncle, they're his best bet in doing so. Blavin doesn't even matter
|
||||
> outside of that. But if he can help the group reach their end
|
||||
> faster, or force the information out of Blavin, perhaps it can come
|
||||
> sooner..
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex lets out another sigh and glances wistfully around the gloomy
|
||||
> attic room. It looked just like he remembered his Uncle's office
|
||||
> looking like at the College of Sysorcerery when he had taught
|
||||
> there. He always was so particular. Pushing his chair away and
|
||||
> grabbing his coffee he wanders to the bookshelf where a large
|
||||
> steamer chest sits beside it. The bookshelf is covered in
|
||||
> manuscripts, "Practical Common Lisp", "The C Programming Language
|
||||
> Vol 2", "RHEL 5 Systems Administration", each one arcane and well
|
||||
> worn. And the amount of volumes, sometimes it's a wonder Corraidhin
|
||||
> had time to do anything other than read.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "Maybe if I had been a little more studious I'd know how to help
|
||||
> you.." as he pulls "A Guide to Backups and All Things Necessary"
|
||||
> off of the shelf a knife falls out of the book, and clatters onto
|
||||
> the floor glaring malevolently up at Alex.
|
||||
|
||||
Your gondola lift finally rises above the thick layer of clouds. The
|
||||
sudden flash of clear blue sky is a revelation after ascending for
|
||||
nearly 60 minutes through clouds so thick you couldn't see through
|
||||
the foggy windows more than three feet. Above you towers rocky,
|
||||
imposing Kelsun Peak. You can just see a tiny portion of the hotel
|
||||
roof through a cleft in the rocks. Below you, a frozen turbulent
|
||||
ocean of clouds dotted with twisting leaning spires and spiraling
|
||||
branching towers, all made out of solid cloudstuff. Handiwork of the
|
||||
whimsical and industrious zephynos.
|
||||
|
||||
You spot two or three of them now, leaping and diving playfully
|
||||
through the clouds like dolphins, spinning the clouds like yarn, and
|
||||
packing them into solid constructs. Their current project resembles a
|
||||
garden of outlandish, distorted tubas, french horns, and trombones.
|
||||
|
||||
The small cloud dragons are about 6 - 8 feet long including their
|
||||
thick tails. They have wide faces with round lidless eyes, and always
|
||||
seem to be smiling. Their heads are topped with multiple pairs of
|
||||
filamented stalks. They have six short, stubby arms with long thin
|
||||
fingers that they use to knead and pull clouds into solid shapes.
|
||||
|
||||
They build ceaselessly and mostly for the sake of building: they have
|
||||
no apparent need for the structures themselves, living as they do
|
||||
floating among the clouds. On occasion they have been entreated to
|
||||
build on behalf of others. And the rare floating palace or city can
|
||||
still be found drifting around Basmentaria as a result. The great
|
||||
city of Vay'Neddas---tethered to the ground by great chains to
|
||||
Primora in the north and Agendell in the south---is one of their
|
||||
greatest enduring works.
|
||||
|
||||
You approach the gondola station at the base of Kelsun Peak, and exit
|
||||
your cable car as it slowly rounds the bullwheel. There are two
|
||||
toques---presumably meant to be operating the lifts---standing off to
|
||||
the side, ignoring their responsibilities, complaining loudly to
|
||||
nobody and everybody about being forced to work long hours and being
|
||||
unfairly compensated. The tips of their soft, conical heads slump
|
||||
forward, calling to mind revolutionaries, or smurfs.
|
||||
|
||||
It is wicked cold as you step out onto the platform and the wind nips
|
||||
and bites at you relentlessly.
|
||||
|
||||
At the edge of the platform, foggy white steps made of firm
|
||||
cloudstuff climb up around the side of the mountain peak to the
|
||||
Palace Runesocesius. Once the conspicuously extravagant residence of
|
||||
one of Basmentaria's most powerful politicians, it has since---after
|
||||
its owner fell from public favor and was routed out---been gutted and
|
||||
transformed into a luxury hotel of equally conspicuous extravagance.
|
||||
It continues to be one of the highest inhabitable places on
|
||||
Basmentaria.
|
||||
|
||||
Two small toques at the base of the steps rush forward to meet
|
||||
you---the floppy tips of their coneheads waggling side to side in
|
||||
their exuberance---and introduce themselves as Confidence and Bread,
|
||||
your guides. They have been instructed to guide you up to
|
||||
Runesocesius where you will take posession of the Ginnarak Crystal.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00186.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,93 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00041
|
||||
created: Wed, 14 Dec 2022 17:50:38 -0700
|
||||
updated: Wed, 14 Dec 2022 17:50:44 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00041 {#00041}
|
||||
|
||||
> Alex grips the encoded message he received in reply to his last
|
||||
> request firmly in his coat pocket. It was simple, curt, impactful.
|
||||
> "Trust no one". Which begged the question, could even it be
|
||||
> trusted? Was HQ compromised? His informants in danger? His allies
|
||||
> and leads awash in the dark grey mist of uncertainity. Or had his
|
||||
> message been intercepted, cracked, and a farsical response been
|
||||
> sent in its place. Alex wasn't certain which, but the strange
|
||||
> format and unusually speedy response had him on edge.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> This anxiety didn't boil up to the surface, not a line of worry or
|
||||
> hint of the inner turbulence broke his cold blue eyes. Outwardly he
|
||||
> was just as composed as ever, but between these uncertainties, the
|
||||
> loss of his uncle, and now this utterly strange dagger he'd found
|
||||
> amongst his uncle's belongings, he wasn't certain how long that
|
||||
> composure would last. It didn't held that he felt this gnawing at
|
||||
> the back of his mind, as though something was probing, attempting
|
||||
> to communicate with him, somewhere between telepathy and utter
|
||||
> magic, and not in any sense that Alex understood.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> And here he stood, a stranger amongst amidst his uncle's allies,
|
||||
> and very little intention to change that situation at the moment.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> As the gondola touched down and the Toques rushed to greet them
|
||||
> Alex jumped blithely off the ship and onto firm, but fluffy,
|
||||
> ground. He cast a look around him at what appeared to be an
|
||||
> ordinary port of entry, noting the crowds of people passing by. As
|
||||
> the Toques arrived Alex spoke curtly to them, "Who sends you to
|
||||
> greet us, and where do you wish to take us, and by what means do we
|
||||
> travel?". Short, cut, information only. There's too much unnerving
|
||||
> in an unknown situation like this.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
> Inky greets the toques in turn politely, then turns to the second
|
||||
> toque and says, "A little bit of bread and no cheese."
|
||||
|
||||
"Cheese?" Bread cocks their head looks at Inky with a touch of
|
||||
embarrassment. They start patting at their pockets, presumably
|
||||
looking for a morsel of cheese to share with the travelers, but
|
||||
finding none. They groan miserably. Confidence butts in
|
||||
apologetically, "There will be plenty of food at the hotel if you
|
||||
want some! Some delicious fondue perhaps? Kelsun Peak's famous liquid
|
||||
gold!"
|
||||
|
||||
"Blavin Blandfoot arranged for us to meet you," Bread answers Alex.
|
||||
Confidence nods enthusiastically in agreement. "But I suppose
|
||||
technically the hotelier sent us." Bread points up at the sky, in the
|
||||
general direction of the summit of Kelsun Peak. "We are to escort you
|
||||
to Palace Runesocesius." They thumb over their shoulder in the
|
||||
general direction of the stairs. "By way of the cloud steps. On
|
||||
foot."
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence leans in close and lowers their voice. "A Ginnarak
|
||||
Crystal! I can't hardly believe it! Thought they had all been lost to
|
||||
the ages. I hear it's complete dumb random luck that this one turned
|
||||
up. Story is, an aetherwael beached itself on some wide zephynos
|
||||
boulevard. Happens sometimes. Poor things can't distinguish between
|
||||
clouds and cloudstuff. I don't blame 'em! At a distance, you and me
|
||||
can't either! Anyway, this aetherwael has got a harpoon stuck in its
|
||||
side. Dratted poachers. May they all fall out of the sky and be
|
||||
dashed to a thousand pieces on the rocks below. But it had a harpoon
|
||||
in its side and was trailing behind it a float bag tethered to the
|
||||
harpoon. And you probably already guessed what was inside of it!" By
|
||||
the time Confidence finishes their brief story, they are trembling
|
||||
and nearly breathless with excitement.
|
||||
|
||||
"Anyway," Bread interrupts their excited companion in an attempt to
|
||||
restore decorum. Both of the toques have been gently herding you
|
||||
toward the base of the stairs this whole time. "You know how the
|
||||
zephynos are. You could give them all the coin in Basmentaria, or
|
||||
something priceless like a Ginnarak Crystal, and they'd just as
|
||||
quickly misplace it out of carelessness. If it's not a cloud they can
|
||||
sculpt into the shape of seussomorph or the likeness of some fantasy
|
||||
creature, they just don't give a fig. Luckily the hotelier caught
|
||||
wind of the aetherwael and found out about the crystal before they
|
||||
managed to lose it, or bury it inside of a sculpture or something
|
||||
silly! He has it safe and sound in the library up at Runesocesius
|
||||
now." Bread climbs the first step, his foot sinking barely a
|
||||
centimeter into wispy cloud before striking the solid cloudstuff.
|
||||
"Come! The hotelier will be very excited to greet you!"
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00193.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,154 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00042
|
||||
created: Sat, 17 Dec 2022 08:01:41 -0700
|
||||
updated: Sat, 17 Dec 2022 08:01:48 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00042 {#00042}
|
||||
|
||||
> This seems a bit strange. Certainly Blavin has been pulling strings
|
||||
> from behind the scenes the whole time, but why coordinate a special
|
||||
> escort for us when there are other retrieval teams, and we've been
|
||||
> less than amicable with the bloke the entire time.. Alex thinks to
|
||||
> himself.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> *DM: I'd like to check for any signs of deceit in the toques
|
||||
> demeanor or communcations with us*
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Confidence you said right? What would you do if I simply chose not
|
||||
> to accompany you? I mean, there's a whole city around us, perhaps
|
||||
> I'd prefer a drink before climbing a mountains worth of stairs. Or
|
||||
> better yet, I could get back on the boat and ride to the top and
|
||||
> same myself the hassle.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread once again looks confused. Confidence looks surprised, caught
|
||||
off guard.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Alex rolls Investigation 2 to check for signs of deceit
|
||||
3 5 = Partial Success / Success at Cost
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence sputters, "Well, yes, of course. You've been traveling for
|
||||
some time now, haven't you? I can assure you that the food and drink
|
||||
at Runesocesius will be better than anything you can get here! But
|
||||
the choice is entirely yours. Feel free to avail yourself of the
|
||||
local offerings. We will wait here at the steps for you."
|
||||
|
||||
Bread nods slowly, and seems to trailing behind the conversation just
|
||||
a second or two.
|
||||
|
||||
Their reactions seem genuine to you despite the circumstances. They
|
||||
seem like a couple of low level employees of a luxury hotel earnestly
|
||||
trying to follow the instructions they've been given.
|
||||
|
||||
There are a couple of stalls and vendors set up around the gondola
|
||||
station. Many of them serve mulled wine and hot chocolate. There is
|
||||
some edible fare. Hot sandwiches and pitas. Nothing that an empanada
|
||||
from Enrique's wouldn't put to shame. But they look hot and steamy,
|
||||
and of great comfort to anybody who might be hungry and cold. There
|
||||
are a few fire pits, next to which there are long benches with
|
||||
blankets, where you might sit and warm up for a bit.
|
||||
|
||||
The gondola lift ends here, and does not continue up to the mountain
|
||||
any further. The cloud steps are the most common way to get up to the
|
||||
peak, and to the Runesocesius. But you're pretty sure one or two of
|
||||
the stalls here offers balloon rides up to the peak for thrill
|
||||
seekers and for those with accessibility needs.
|
||||
|
||||
> "I think you already know I'm interested in neither bread nor
|
||||
> cheese, the second of which I certainly did not ask for yet you
|
||||
> tried to offer in your hasty pretence." Inky smiles thinly at the
|
||||
> toques.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Taking out a small bag of gold coins and weighing it slowly on one
|
||||
> hand to the sound of coins clinking inside the pouch, Inky
|
||||
> continues, "Speak, answer our questions frankly and you will be
|
||||
> rewarded. The hotelier up there need not know. Breathe a word of
|
||||
> our little chat to another soul, however …" Inky's gaze cut briefly
|
||||
> to four snow ravens perched atop a spiral lamp post and back, "and
|
||||
> you will learn the meaning of disappearing without a trace."
|
||||
|
||||
Bread looks confused. You are starting to believe it is their default
|
||||
expression. "So, you *don't* want no chee---"
|
||||
|
||||
"Our only desire is to help!" Confidence hastily interrupts. He
|
||||
smiles pleasingly. "We are your guides! Not just physically up the
|
||||
steps, but in all things here on Kelsun Peak. You have but to ask,
|
||||
and if it is within our power to give it, it will be yours! We are
|
||||
but humble ser---"
|
||||
|
||||
And just then Confidence is also suddenly interrupted. A thundering
|
||||
boom like a canon sounds from somewhere nearby, followed quickly by
|
||||
an explosion somewhere up above. Snow ravens fly off in all
|
||||
directions in a panic. The sound ripples through the mountaintop,
|
||||
rattling the ground on which you stand. A bunch of small rocks and
|
||||
two large boulders shake loose from the mountainside. Shoppers and
|
||||
travelers shout and duck for cover as they are pelted by the scree.
|
||||
One of the large boulder bounces clear over the station and plummets
|
||||
down the side of the mountain before disappearing into the cloud
|
||||
ocean below. The second one falls straight toward the platform. A
|
||||
vendor selling wreaths and candles dives out of the way as his stall
|
||||
is crushed by the boulder. A bench is toppled over, spilling its
|
||||
blankets into the fire pit, and catches fire, quickly spreading to
|
||||
another nearby stall.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread looks up at the sky, confused. You see a thin line of black
|
||||
smoke starting to rise up into the sky from over the ridge where the
|
||||
Runesocesius lies. Confidence shouts, and you see him pointing at the
|
||||
sea, where a balloonship is rising up out of the cloud bank, sailing
|
||||
quickly toward you and the summit of Kelsun Peak.
|
||||
|
||||
It resembles a seafaring ship, but instead of masts and sails, it has
|
||||
two large, colorful, patchwork balloons that provide it lift. A large
|
||||
fan on a pivot at the rear of the ship provides thrust. As you watch,
|
||||
it fires a second canon---that *is* what the sound was!---nearly
|
||||
straight up, arcing up and over the peak at Palace Runesocesius.
|
||||
|
||||
The crew of the ship bustle around on the deck of the ship, reloading
|
||||
the canons, firing the balloons, shouting, giving and following
|
||||
orders.
|
||||
|
||||
"Cyberplasms," groans Confidence, and Bread whimpers. Alex, that
|
||||
quiet, dull, static roar that has been constantly tickling the back
|
||||
of your head ever since you found that dagger seems to rise in pitch
|
||||
and in tone. It conveys a sense of urgency, of warning. You can
|
||||
*almost* hear a desperate voice behind the static fuzz cautioning
|
||||
you, "Evil..."
|
||||
|
||||
The only corporeal element of the crew are their cybernetic
|
||||
enhancements. A mechanical leg. A synthetic eye. A claw, a hook, a
|
||||
hand. An arm canon. Almost all of them have more than one, some as
|
||||
many as 3 or 5. The cybernetic pieces of each individual crew member
|
||||
are held together by plasmic energy arcs, crackling blue and green.
|
||||
And surrounding the bioware and the plasmic arcs of each crew member,
|
||||
like a blanket or a cocoon, is the translucent, wavering, ghostly
|
||||
form of some humanoid long-dead.
|
||||
|
||||
The figure standing on the deck surveying the work of the rest of the
|
||||
crew---presumably the captain---has a synthetic eye rotating freely,
|
||||
360 degrees in all directions, inside its skull-like head; a bulky
|
||||
arm canon; and a thin robotic leg terminating in a thick boot.
|
||||
Plasmic blasts arc through its core, sometimes disrupting and
|
||||
glitching its ghostly body.
|
||||
|
||||
The captain raises its arm canon and shouts to the crew. Its voice
|
||||
carried on the breeze sounds like something otherworldly rising
|
||||
slowly from the murky deep. "Fire the canon, boys! And fire up the
|
||||
balloons! Drop the ballast! That crystal is *ours!*"
|
||||
|
||||
It happens very quickly: the ship ascends to the summit and soon is
|
||||
firing grappling hooks at it to pull themselves in and breach the
|
||||
walls of the hotel.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread looks at you, wide-eyed and trembling. They let loose a pitiful
|
||||
wail and turn and start running up the steps. "Bread!" Confidence
|
||||
yells after them. They cast a backward glance at you. "I've got to
|
||||
help Bread! We've got to save the hotel!" And they give chase to
|
||||
their fellow toque, bounding up the cloudstuff steps.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00203.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,110 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00043
|
||||
created: Mon, 19 Dec 2022 08:03:20 -0700
|
||||
updated: Mon, 19 Dec 2022 08:03:25 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00043 {#00043}
|
||||
|
||||
> Pirates?! Again?! Alex groans, unfortunately he's run into this crew
|
||||
> of dastardly mostly cybernetic punks in the past. Nasty group back
|
||||
> home, always kept the precinct busy. Not necessarily with the
|
||||
> detective work, it was always a little obvious when they showed up.
|
||||
> They have a flair for the dramatic.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex shouts to Inky & Jarrod "Come on, we need to get in one of those
|
||||
> balloons and fast!" he then darts off in the direction of the nearest
|
||||
> abandoned balloon in the market place, not looking to see if his
|
||||
> companions had followed him.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> *internally* I know these guys have pulled off smaller heists, they
|
||||
> could just be attacking the hotel to plunder riches from its guests.
|
||||
> They don't seem the likes of a retrieval team.. Then again, that
|
||||
> Blavin fellow has multiple teams working for him, and he doesn't seem
|
||||
> all too picky about how they get the job done, it wouldn't be
|
||||
> surprising if he'd hired some brigands hoping they'd get the gems
|
||||
> faster.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex conjures up another bug, a stag beetle this time, and casts it
|
||||
> away at the pirate ship. It'll probably take some time to catch up,
|
||||
> but once it does we'll be able to keep an eye on the pirate's ship
|
||||
> and general actions, at least within line of sight of the bug.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> As Alex reaches the balloon he grabs the ruby hilted dagger and cuts
|
||||
> the mooring lines keeping it down, and jumps into the basket
|
||||
> preparing for take off.
|
||||
|
||||
You spot a balloon that has already been knocked half loose of its
|
||||
mooring by the pirate attack. The basket is listing to the side and
|
||||
tugging at the one remaining rope tying it down Its owner scurries
|
||||
around in circles trying to secure it.
|
||||
|
||||
The vertical panels of the balloon are all different colors, creating
|
||||
a brilliant rainbow pattern. The large woven basket is large enough
|
||||
for maybe three people.
|
||||
|
||||
You leap inside, swinging the ruby hilted dagger at the remaining
|
||||
mooring line. The balloon owner cries out in dismay. The basket
|
||||
shifts beneath your feet as the balloon tugs it skyward.
|
||||
|
||||
In the burner, a small sunspoke---a minor fire elemental---is merrily
|
||||
burning away, producing a modest flame that is hot enough to lift the
|
||||
balloon slowly above the market into the sky. There is a knob valve
|
||||
on the side of the burner to allow more oxygen to flow in, thereby
|
||||
feeding the sunspoke and encouraging it to burn more intensely and
|
||||
raise the balloon higher and faster. The valve is currently only
|
||||
about one third open.
|
||||
|
||||
A pile of blankets in one corner of the basket---and that area of the
|
||||
basket itself---is covered in blood. Somebody injured in the pirate
|
||||
attack must have temporarily climbed into the basket looking for
|
||||
cover? As you're about to look away, something large-ish (small for a
|
||||
human, large for an animal) under the blankets shifts and moves.
|
||||
|
||||
> Inky stares after Alex's sprinting figure before shrugging and
|
||||
> stepping towards one of the stalls selling sandwiches bowled over
|
||||
> by one of the large boulders. They place some loose change on the
|
||||
> stall's wooden sign that had tipped over on the ground and pocket
|
||||
> one of the sandwiches displayed inside an open chest oven. Next,
|
||||
> they pick up several of the scented candles scattered on the ground
|
||||
> by the crash, throwing some coins in the direction of the
|
||||
> disoriented vendor before continuing at a leisurely pace up the
|
||||
> steps to the hotel, taking in the balloonship and surrounding
|
||||
> scenery. The members of their merry party arriving first can hold
|
||||
> their own as well as the fort of a hotel.
|
||||
|
||||
You do a little leisurely shopping as the vendors and other shoppers
|
||||
put out fires and tend to the injured. With a couple scented candles
|
||||
and a sandwich safely in your pocket, you start to climb the cloud
|
||||
steps, enjoying the scenery as you go. Bread and Confidence have
|
||||
quite a bit of a head start on you, and are nowhere to be seen. As
|
||||
the stairway winds around the mountainside, the market and its bustle
|
||||
recede from view, and soon you are quite isolated and alone.
|
||||
|
||||
The majesty of creation is humbling here: the endless, roiling ocean
|
||||
of cloud; the towering mountain of rock. It's as though this was the
|
||||
creator's playground when they were still trying to figure out scale.
|
||||
Before they quite got it right for human-sized creatures.
|
||||
|
||||
About halfway up your climb, it starts raining sheets of paper. You
|
||||
snatch one and read it. Some heroic fantasy about slaying demons and
|
||||
facing great peril. You grab another. A bodice-ripping romance.
|
||||
Another. A gourmand's food tour of Basmentaria, eating their way from
|
||||
coast to coast. A murder mystery whodunnit. An aetherwael handler's
|
||||
guide to interplanetary travel. How to grow your own fortified
|
||||
pumpkins. On the Care and Maintenance of Fortles. The Rise and Fall
|
||||
and Rise of Palace Runesocesius. Within a minute, you have fists full
|
||||
of an entire library's worth of snippets and passages.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
It looks as though Alex will approach the hotel by balloon from the
|
||||
non-pirate side. And Inky's approach by stair will deposit them at
|
||||
the hotel entrance, roughly pirate-adjacent.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00217.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,52 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00044
|
||||
created: Tue, 20 Dec 2022 08:47:08 -0700
|
||||
updated: Tue, 20 Dec 2022 08:47:11 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00044 {#00044}
|
||||
|
||||
> As Alex spots the sunspoke valve he grabs it and cranks it up to the
|
||||
> 2/3 mark. "Sorry little friend, we're going to need a little bit more
|
||||
> juice". The baloon lurches upwards as air rushes in feeding the
|
||||
> sunspoke, causing it to burn more intensely. After setting the
|
||||
> sunspoke ablaze and shouting back to the balloon's owner Alex takes
|
||||
> account of his surroundings. It's during this time he spots the
|
||||
> bloodied, moving blankets. They seem to writhe, as though something
|
||||
> beneath them is injured.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Gripping the dagger firmly in one hand Alex grabs the blankets from
|
||||
> the corner of the balloon basket revealing whatever lay beneath.
|
||||
|
||||
The sunspoke stretches its little arms and wriggles its little
|
||||
fingers. It sighs happily, luxuriating in the extra fuel. It burns
|
||||
twice as bright, shooting a hot jet of bright yellow flame up into
|
||||
the parachute. The sunspoke starts to glow a molten red, and you
|
||||
start to rise faster.
|
||||
|
||||
As you rise up over the peak, you can finally spot the Runesocesius.
|
||||
The grand hotel is draped over the top of the mountain, clinging to
|
||||
it like a dragon resting on its hoard.
|
||||
|
||||
The "cyberplasms" as Confidence called them have docked to the side
|
||||
of a tower on the other side of the peak from you. They have shot a
|
||||
large hole in the side of the tower, and you can see them now
|
||||
starting to zipline into the building. A thick plume of black smoke
|
||||
billows out of the side of the tower, carrying pages and pages of
|
||||
loose paper into the air with it. They rain down like snow. The tower
|
||||
must house an extensive library.
|
||||
|
||||
You cautiously pull back a corner of the bloody blankets, jeweled
|
||||
dagger raised and ready to strike. You reveal a small bloody furry
|
||||
blob. You see two big round eyes, a short-snouted face, and enormous
|
||||
pointed ears. It quickly looks away from you, chirps pathetically,
|
||||
and trembles as it cowers in place. You have found a frightened
|
||||
hemogoblin stowaway!
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00219.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,94 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00045
|
||||
created: Tue, 20 Dec 2022 10:15:23 -0700
|
||||
updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 09:29:11 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00045 {#00045}
|
||||
|
||||
> As the blankets draw back from the bloody mass, a cute little
|
||||
> hemogoblin appears. "Aww little fellas just scared." Alex lowers
|
||||
> the dagger, but otherwise ignores the hemogoblin. Best to leave it
|
||||
> be for now, there's more important things.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> As the balloon gets within range of the ship Alex begins to scan
|
||||
> the deck for Cyberplasms. At the same time he checks his bug to
|
||||
> track the location of the cyberplasms more acutely. It looks like
|
||||
> there may be an opporunity to jump from the balloon to the ship.
|
||||
> After that cutting the zip lines would give me the opporunity to
|
||||
> steal the ship, leaving the cyberplasms trapped at the top of the
|
||||
> hotel.
|
||||
|
||||
Just a few Cyberplasms remain on the deck of the airship. The vast
|
||||
majority of them have zipped into the hotel tower.
|
||||
|
||||
You check your bug's feed. It has gone almost entirely unnoticed in
|
||||
the fracas, and you are able to piece together a clear picture of the
|
||||
inside of the tower. It is indeed a grand library, its galleries
|
||||
spanning each floor of the tower. One of the largest collections in
|
||||
all of Basmentaria.
|
||||
|
||||
The Cyberplasms have breached the tower near its base and are pouring
|
||||
into the Great Hall. You tune in just in time to see a rail-thin,
|
||||
bald and mustachioed man standing defensively in front of a display
|
||||
case. "No! You can't!" he exclaims as a disembodied sickle approaches
|
||||
him in a cloud of electricity and ectoplasm.
|
||||
|
||||
Behind the glass in the display case is a bluish hunk of rock the
|
||||
size of a melon, with gently pulsing gold veins.
|
||||
|
||||
> Inky puts away the papers they caught in passing or picked up along
|
||||
> the path up to read later, including a number that from a cursory
|
||||
> glance appear to be from a culinary collection and a few from some
|
||||
> moth-eaten but finely illustrated botanical tome, among others.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Eventually arriving at the hotel entrance, Inky enters and manages
|
||||
> to catch a frantic-looking attendant near the reception to ask the
|
||||
> whereabouts of the hotelier, indicating they had a business
|
||||
> appointment with said manager.
|
||||
|
||||
You walk in through the hotel's main entrance. The grandeur would
|
||||
take your breath away were it not for the shouting and the smoke and
|
||||
the explosions coming from down the hall to your right.
|
||||
|
||||
You wave down a passing hotel clerk and inquire after the hotelier.
|
||||
They are hauling a large bucket of hot water, and carrying an
|
||||
oversized bundle of clean towels under one arm. They pause for a
|
||||
moment to look at you incredulously before running off in the
|
||||
opposite direction.
|
||||
|
||||
A cry rings out nearby and a Cyberplasm flies through an open door
|
||||
down the hallway. It lands in a heap of crackling energy, smears of
|
||||
ectoplasm streaking the floor as though it were bleeding heavily. It
|
||||
seems to be barely held together by the energy stored in its
|
||||
cybernetic leg and a metal skull plate.
|
||||
|
||||
It scoots backwards on its hands and its butt, trying to stand up.
|
||||
Two toques leap out of the door after it. You recognize Bread and
|
||||
Confidence right away.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread has obviously been to the kitchens. They are wearing tin baking
|
||||
sheets and an oversized pot on their heard as makeshift armor, and
|
||||
have a couple of dangerous looking kitchen knives hanging from their
|
||||
belt. At the moment they are swinging a large meat tenderizer over
|
||||
their head as though it were a war hammer.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence, meanwhile, has been to the gardener's shed. They are
|
||||
wearing a heavy leather apron and thick leather gloves, and have a
|
||||
trowel in each hand, and a large hoe or rake strapped to their back.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread lowers their hammer on Cyberplasms head, denting the skull
|
||||
plate. And Confidence darts in and stabs with both hands at the leg.
|
||||
As soon as the prosthetics go offline and the plasmic arcs cease
|
||||
firing, there is nothing left holding the ectoplasm together and the
|
||||
ghost kind of dissipates into the air with a soft wail.
|
||||
|
||||
They look up and notice you at the same time, relaxing their
|
||||
offensive stances. "Oh!" cries Bread. "It's you!"
|
||||
|
||||
"You don't happen," asks Confidence, "to need a guide, do you?"
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00227.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,146 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00046
|
||||
created: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:36:07 -0700
|
||||
updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:36:10 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00046 {#00046}
|
||||
|
||||
> Ah so I suppose those Toques were being honest then, there was a
|
||||
> Ginnarak crystal, and I guess they were going to give it to us.. oh
|
||||
> well, nothing good in life comes easy.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex cranks the dial on the sunspoke, grabs the hemogoblin from the
|
||||
> basket, and jumps out of the balloon and onto the deck of the ship.
|
||||
> He rushes over to the nearest pile of bundled rope and barrels and
|
||||
> stows his new hemo friend. "Just stay hidden little guy, let me
|
||||
> take care of these pirates first."
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex grabs the dagger from his side as he makes his way towards the
|
||||
> side of the ship, first thing first, best to cut the mooring lines
|
||||
> and zip lines. The static clawing sensation appears at the back of
|
||||
> Alex's mind, but he attempts to ignore it. There's too much that
|
||||
> needs to be done too quickly, and he's all too aware of the danger
|
||||
> he's put himself in. "What would Corraidhin do.." Alex thinks to
|
||||
> himself, "perhaps a spell?".
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ```lua
|
||||
> function target:new(obj, tbl)
|
||||
> obj = obj or {}
|
||||
> setmetatable(obj, self)
|
||||
> self.__index = self
|
||||
> self.x = 0
|
||||
> self.y = 0
|
||||
> self.speed = 0
|
||||
> reutrn obj
|
||||
> end
|
||||
>
|
||||
> function target:yeet()
|
||||
> self.x = 100
|
||||
> self.y = 100
|
||||
> self.speed = 50
|
||||
> return self
|
||||
> end
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
>
|
||||
> After preparing the spell Alex makes his way towards the guard rail
|
||||
> ready to cut the mooring and zip lines, spell at the ready should
|
||||
> an enemy appear.
|
||||
|
||||
You crank the dial to 11. The sunspoke squeals in delight and burns
|
||||
like a tiny star. You grab the hemogoblin, who chirrups and clings
|
||||
tightly to you, and leap from the balloon onto the deck of the
|
||||
airship.
|
||||
|
||||
You think you can hear---barely audible---the sunspoke singing a song
|
||||
of homecoming as the hot air balloon continues to rise unpiloted up
|
||||
toward the sun.
|
||||
|
||||
You rush over to cover behind a barrel, and deposit your new
|
||||
hemogoblin friend safely inside the center of a large coil of rope.
|
||||
It looks up at you quizzically, but nods when you tell it to stay
|
||||
put.
|
||||
|
||||
You invoke the powers of the moon and prepare a quick but (hopefully)
|
||||
sufficient Spell of Yeeting.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to cut the lines and avoid detection
|
||||
6 = Great Success! Level Up!
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
When you draw the dagger, the world develops a faint static
|
||||
background noise which is easy enough to ignore at the moment given
|
||||
the state of things. You dash forward and start sawing at the thick
|
||||
mooring lines. The dagger's ruby hilt flashes in the sunlight as you
|
||||
work, and in your mind's eye you see a bright red wine, and a drop of
|
||||
blood red ink flowing from the nib of a fountain pen.
|
||||
|
||||
You shake the images from your head just as you finish sawing through
|
||||
the rope. A Cyberplasm who was shimmying back up the rope from the
|
||||
hotel to the ship yelps as the line goes slack and swings back into
|
||||
the side of the cliff. The pirate rebounds from the impact, bounces
|
||||
off the mountainside a few times, and falls from view as it
|
||||
disappears through the clouds below.
|
||||
|
||||
The ship drifts lazily, rising slightly, and despite your best
|
||||
sneaking around, the remaining Cyberplasms on board cannot help but
|
||||
notice that the ship is no longer tethered. You successfully hide
|
||||
behind a barrel as three cyber ghost pirates come rushing over to the
|
||||
ship railing and lean over, looking below at where there are no
|
||||
longer any ropes attaching the ship to the hotel.
|
||||
|
||||
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the hemogoblin toddling
|
||||
across the deck toward the Cyberplasms, no doubt curious about what
|
||||
they're looking at over the side of the ship.
|
||||
|
||||
> "Indeed, Bread, it's me. You have not yet escaped your fate of
|
||||
> untraceable disappearance just yet." Inky deadpans, then smiles.
|
||||
> "We have much to discuss, but later. I do need a guide … to your
|
||||
> hotelier. Presumably I will find them by following the racket and
|
||||
> trail of ruined decor, but maybe you know of a quicker route?"
|
||||
|
||||
Bread smiles at the threat of being untraceably disappeared, mostly
|
||||
confident that they are on the inside of a private little joke and
|
||||
that they are presently in no actual danger from Inky. They grip
|
||||
their hammer a little tighter nonetheless.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence slips their trowels into their apron. "Yes, this way!"
|
||||
|
||||
They hurry down the hall. You know you're going the right way because
|
||||
tattered, torn, charred books litter the ground in increasing
|
||||
numbers. Bits of paper and ash fall like snow.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence guides you away from the entrance to the library's Great
|
||||
Hall, and takes you instead to a smaller, more discreet staff
|
||||
entrance. They open the door a crack, and as you look through you are
|
||||
just in time to see the ship captain with their cybernetic leg, arm
|
||||
canon, and eye. Now that the crew have cleared the way for them, they
|
||||
stroll across the library over piles of fallen, damaged books.
|
||||
|
||||
A thin bald man with a neatly trimmed mustache is on the other side
|
||||
of the hall, his back turned to the pirate. He wears a fine suit and
|
||||
has just finished unlocking a glass display case. He retrieves a
|
||||
multifaceted blue and gold stone and hugs it to his chest with both
|
||||
arms. He throws a panicked glance over his shoulder at the slowly
|
||||
approaching pirate, and turns to run away. His retreat is halted by a
|
||||
small explosion at his feet. He skids to a stop and looks back at the
|
||||
pirate, who is lowering their arm canon.
|
||||
|
||||
"The crystal," the captain demands in a voice part ghostly moan, part
|
||||
mechanical drone. "Hand it over, hotelier." It steps closer. "Mother
|
||||
has promised us new bodies if we deliver the quintessence. You won't
|
||||
be permitted to stand in our way."
|
||||
|
||||
One pirate near the breach tucks a couple volumes of manhwa under its
|
||||
arm and climbs out onto the mooring line, returning to the ship with
|
||||
its plunder. It howls as the line suddenly goes slack, flinging the
|
||||
pirate and its comics into the mountainside, and then out into space.
|
||||
|
||||
Sunlight pours into the library from outside as the shadow of the
|
||||
airship shifts as it starts to drift, suddenly unmoored.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00231.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,116 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00047
|
||||
created: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 16:51:54 -0700
|
||||
updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 16:51:59 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00047 {#00047}
|
||||
|
||||
> Damn it! I should've left the little goblin in the balloon, this
|
||||
> could get tricky..
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Time slows for just the briefest of moments while Alex calculates
|
||||
> his next move. Looking at the position of the pirates he can
|
||||
> probably yeet the middlemost one away from the group into the left
|
||||
> most pirate. Best case this sends both of them sailing over the
|
||||
> edge of the ship, worst case it just slightly knocks them off
|
||||
> balance. In either event this gives me enough time to dart from
|
||||
> cover and quickly dispatch the right most pirate with Uncle's
|
||||
> dagger. I've got to sever each connection point between the
|
||||
> ecotplasm and the cybernetics, nothing quite as quick and easy as
|
||||
> flesh and blood, but a quick slice to the left most armpit, and
|
||||
> another to the right most leg right above the carotid artery should
|
||||
> do it..
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Jumping immediately to action Alex casts `yeet.middle_cyberplasm()`
|
||||
> sending the middle pirate into the left most pirate away from the
|
||||
> hemogoblin while he dashes forward to take the third right most
|
||||
> pirate by surprise. As he reaches the right most pirate he makes
|
||||
> two quick slices, first at the leg, followed by a quick upper cut
|
||||
> to the left arm.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to yeet the cyberplasm
|
||||
3 = Things go poorly. Gain 1 xp.
|
||||
Spend 1 xp to pass and gain Sysorcery 2
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
You channel some of the ambient environmental charge into your
|
||||
prepared incantation. It's comforting sometimes to peer behind the
|
||||
veil and see the world through this lens. It's so simple. The
|
||||
separation of self and other is an illusion: everything is just a
|
||||
table. The concept of time itself is simplified: coroutines prevent
|
||||
everything from happening all at once and create the illusion of
|
||||
concurrency. It's all really quite elegant.
|
||||
|
||||
Anyway so the hemogoblin sidles up next to the pirates at the
|
||||
railing. It's not tall enough to see over the railing, and starts to
|
||||
kind of jump up and down, trying to catch a glimpse. The pirates look
|
||||
down at it in confusion just as the `yeet` happens, and they knock
|
||||
into each other. The leftmost one almost manages to regain its
|
||||
balance but then trips over the little blood gremlin and pitches over
|
||||
the railing. The middle pirate yelps as the startled hemogoblin darts
|
||||
between its legs to get out of the way. The pirate stumbles and then
|
||||
slips in a small puddle of blood. Its feet shoot from beneath it and
|
||||
it too tips over the railing.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to sever connections
|
||||
1 = Things go poorly. Gain 1 xp.
|
||||
Spend 1 xp to pass and gain Stabbing 2
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin dashes right into the waiting arms of the rightmost
|
||||
Cyberplasm. "Gotcha, you little ... ugh! What ..." The pirate is
|
||||
starting to regret snatching up the little furball, which is
|
||||
defensively gushing blood all over it, when you make your first slice
|
||||
into its left armpit. Half its cybernetics go offline. One arm goes
|
||||
limp and it drops the hemogoblin, which scurries around and hides
|
||||
behind you. The pirate turns toward you, now full of regrets, and you
|
||||
stab into its right leg, knocking its tech completely offline and
|
||||
dispersing the ghostly energies.
|
||||
|
||||
As far as you can tell, the ship is now free of Cyberplasms.
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin thrusts its tiny fists in the air and cheers.
|
||||
|
||||
> Inky shakes out several large and very fine kerchiefs, handing two
|
||||
> each to the guides and gestures for them to cover their noses and
|
||||
> mouths with them while they perform the action themselves to
|
||||
> demonstrate.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Donning a pair of skydiving goggles snatched from one of the souvenir
|
||||
> stalls at the gondola station while no one was looking (replacing it
|
||||
> with its approximate weight in silver coins), Inky retrieves a black
|
||||
> metal box that previously served as a portable camp stove from their
|
||||
> knapsack and removes the lid. The inside of the box is filled with
|
||||
> dry wood chips mixed with a pine green powder, and Inky throws in the
|
||||
> wicks pulled from some of the scented candles that were pushed into a
|
||||
> heater flask to melt fully during the walk up the hotel steps.
|
||||
> Finally, Inky pours another vial of foul-smelling liquid over the
|
||||
> contents, opens the door just wide enough to slide the metal box
|
||||
> through to one side of the door a few paces away.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> A mildly sweet, cloying smoke emanates from the flameless heat inside
|
||||
> the box, which begin to fill the library hall with a rapidly
|
||||
> thickening cloud. It is also taking on an acrid and slightly sooty
|
||||
> edge. Near the door, Inky fans more of the smoke in the direction of
|
||||
> the cyberplasmic apparition with a thin bound manuscript laying on
|
||||
> the floor.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread, Confidence, and you all don protective gear. You push the camp
|
||||
stove through the door like an Olympic curler. It glides across the
|
||||
library floor a respectable distance considering the book debris and
|
||||
the lack of sweepers. Much more quickly than one would think
|
||||
possible, the hall is filled with a thick, sooty smoke. The
|
||||
Cyberplasm captain groans with frustration as even the short distance
|
||||
between it and the hotelier (and the crystal) becomes occluded in the
|
||||
smoke screen. The hotelier wisely doesn't make a sound as he
|
||||
disappears from view.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread nudges you, grins, and gives you a thumbs up.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00234.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,246 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00048
|
||||
created: Wed, 28 Dec 2022 16:08:10 -0700
|
||||
updated: Wed, 28 Dec 2022 16:08:12 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00048 {#00048}
|
||||
|
||||
> Alex snatches up his new hemo friend cheering huzzah as he does.
|
||||
> We've got a pirate ship little guy!
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Rushing about the deck Alex quickly takes stock of what's left,
|
||||
> plenty of ammo, general supplies, fuel, perfectly provisioned for a
|
||||
> quick crystal kidnapping. Smart move pirates, but not smart enough.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex heads to the helm and steadies the ship guiding it out and
|
||||
> away from the library, can't have any of the remaining cyberplasms
|
||||
> easily reboarding it now can we? Once the ship is out of range Alex
|
||||
> checks his S.T.A.G drone's twtxt feed for updates.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Cyberplasm approaching crystal
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/gps> approx library, top level
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/audio> Cyberplasm threatens violence
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Inky, bread, confidence enter subvertly
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Visual feed impaired due to unknown smog
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/audio> Angry tones, uncertain who
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Not particularly helpful, and it rules out my first thought. I
|
||||
> could blindly fire the broadside canons into the library hoping to
|
||||
> hit the cyberplasm, but I'd be just as likely to hit Inky, Bread,
|
||||
> Confidence or any other innocent bystander. I've got to get a
|
||||
> message to her.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex quickly dispatches a command to the S.T.A.G
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/cmd> Seek Inky
|
||||
> @<drone/fhsoa7483/relay> Secured ship, inform A.I of intentions, will coordinate rescue via the stolen ship
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
>
|
||||
> If all we've got is this, then we'd best be ready for a quick
|
||||
> rescue. Alex busies himself preparing a new zipline and mooring
|
||||
> lines. He then loads the boradside canons and the top deck swivel
|
||||
> canons. It'll need to be quick, but if I'm ready I can swing the
|
||||
> ship in close, deploy a zipline for Inky to zip down to the ship
|
||||
> with, and defend the retreat with the swivels. If everyone retreats
|
||||
> to the ship we can take a note from the pirates playbook and blast
|
||||
> them to hell with the broadsides while we make our retreat. Or
|
||||
> simply run I suppose, but I dislike the idea of leaving innocent
|
||||
> people to deal with angry pirates
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin cheers you on as you take possession of the airship,
|
||||
accidentally squirting a few jets of rust colored blood in its
|
||||
excitement. Must still be quite young. They don't gain full control
|
||||
of their blood sacs until well into adulthood.
|
||||
|
||||
You check your S.T.A.G. drone's twtxt feeds. This A.I. seems
|
||||
especially reliable, you note with satisfaction. Its updates are
|
||||
regular and detailed. Even when there's not much to report.
|
||||
|
||||
You load up the canons and take control of the helm. The hemogoblin
|
||||
stands at attention at the broadside canons with a cracklesparkler,
|
||||
ready to light the fuse at your command. You steer the ship a short
|
||||
distance away from the hotel, hopefully out of reach of the
|
||||
cyberplasms. But within range of your own canons and ziplines.
|
||||
|
||||
> While Inky has the attention of both guides, they close the door
|
||||
> again until it is slightly ajar, and make a series of hand
|
||||
> gestures. First pointing at themselves, at their own forearm and
|
||||
> fist held stiffly to mimic the shape of the captain's arm cannon,
|
||||
> to indicate that Inky will handle the Cyberplasm. Then Inky points
|
||||
> the two fingers of a hand at Bread and Confidence, turns the two
|
||||
> fingers downward and swings them back and forth in opposite
|
||||
> directions to convey walking. This was followed by a single finger
|
||||
> pointing in the general direction they had last seen the hotelier;
|
||||
> then the finger hooks inward, the arm repeating a yanking motion
|
||||
> once or twice before ending the gesture with a thumb tossed over
|
||||
> their shoulder towards the hallway away from the staff entrance, to
|
||||
> ask them to get their boss out of the library to a safe spot.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Without waiting for confirmation from the toques, Inky opens the
|
||||
> door, abruptly stops, turns and shoves a compostable bag of
|
||||
> mango-flavoured croutons at Bread, gives them a thumbs up in return
|
||||
> and a mildly disturbing, eye-crinkling smile behind their kerchief,
|
||||
> before slipping inside the smoky room. One hand is already pulling
|
||||
> out a thin, extendable metal walking pole with a carrying strap
|
||||
> visually resembling the type used by hikers from their courier bag
|
||||
> to check for obstacles amid the lowered visibility.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence watches all of your hand gestures closely, and then nods
|
||||
resolutely. They draw their large hoe, and turn and start to crouch
|
||||
run toward the main entrance to to the main hall of the library.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread looks confused, but ready to follow Confidence. They grab their
|
||||
heavy meat tenderizer and crouch down in imitation of their fellow
|
||||
toque. Before they can run off, you shove a bag of croutons into
|
||||
their arms. "Small. Toasted. Bread," they intonate slowly in wonder.
|
||||
The confusion falls from their face as they break into a wide grin.
|
||||
"Now I'll never disappear without a trace," they laugh. They thank
|
||||
you and run like a duck after Confidence.
|
||||
|
||||
> Inside, Inky lobs the empty glass vial that had held the
|
||||
> unpleasantly pungent organic catalyst at a spot the floor several
|
||||
> paces roughly from where the Cyberplasm — presumably the leader of
|
||||
> the group — had been standing earlier, in the opposite direction of
|
||||
> the staff entrance in an attempt to divert attention from the
|
||||
> hotelier's last location. As they edge along the wall towards the
|
||||
> tower stairs, walking pole looped over one hand, Inky grabs a few
|
||||
> small hardcover novellas from a wall shelf. Straightening from
|
||||
> their crouch, Inky tosses them one at a time horizontally in quick
|
||||
> succession like a discus, but without the full-body turning motion,
|
||||
> across the hall towards the sounds of frustrated groans and angry
|
||||
> muttering. The first starting higher around where a human head
|
||||
> might have once been, one at waist height and another at the
|
||||
> juncture below where ectoplasmic knees might meet prosthetic legs.
|
||||
|
||||
You pick up three hardback novellas. If it wasn't so smoky, and if
|
||||
you weren't so much in the middle of a potentially life and death
|
||||
struggle with the Cyberplasm captain of a pirate airship, you might
|
||||
notice their titles: *Stop and Smell the Crystals*, *Living the
|
||||
Corn*, and *A Big Moon*.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
NOTE: book titles generated by https://booktitlegenerator.com/
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
Anyway, you start flinging.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever cyber eye
|
||||
1: Things go poorly; gain 1 xp
|
||||
Spend xp to level up, Throwing 2
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
After you toss the catalyst, you can see a plasmic form heavily
|
||||
blurred and obscured by the smoke turn in that direction. You fling
|
||||
*Stop and Smell the Crystals* at it, and it spins like a discus and
|
||||
smashes into the pirate right in the face, above the chin. It howls
|
||||
and brings its hand to its face, and turns and charges up its arm
|
||||
cannon.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever arm canon
|
||||
5 (2): Success at cost
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
Mostly going on sound now, you fling *Living the Corn* at the
|
||||
pirate's moan and at the electric whine of the canon charging. You
|
||||
hear the canon discharge but the half-blind pirate fires wide. You
|
||||
see the flash of the energy blast hitting something, someone, else
|
||||
obscured by smoke in the middle distance between the two of you. A
|
||||
man screams out in pain. Right after the muffled thump of his body
|
||||
hitting the ground, you hear the clinking and ringing of something
|
||||
heavy and metallic striking and rolling across the floor.
|
||||
|
||||
*Living on Corn* strikes the pirate in the elbow, and with a fizzle
|
||||
and a spark, the arm cannon sputters offline.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever cyber leg
|
||||
6 4: Great Success!
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
The pirate stumbles forward, half-lame and half-blind. It stoops and
|
||||
scoops up a heavy melon-sized object. It stomps its cybernetic boot,
|
||||
and small rockets spring out from small compartments on either side
|
||||
of its ankle. They start to fire up and the pirate is about to make
|
||||
its escape when *A Big Moon* hits it right above knee and severs the
|
||||
ghost's final connection to its final enhancement.
|
||||
|
||||
It groans as it starts to dissipate, dropping the heavy object once
|
||||
more.
|
||||
|
||||
"My crew, it is too late for me! I shall never have a new body now!
|
||||
But it's not too late for you! You must bring the quintessence to
|
||||
Mother!"
|
||||
|
||||
And then the pirate's essence is diluted in the smoke filling the
|
||||
library.
|
||||
|
||||
> At that moment Inky hears a very low whirring accompanied by
|
||||
> clicking sounds behind them and without glancing backwards, swings
|
||||
> the walking pole at the source of the buzzing. The stick collides
|
||||
> with something, sending it careening backwards with a light clatter
|
||||
> through what is likely a row of bookshelves around the area already
|
||||
> partially emptied of their contents. From the static noise that
|
||||
> ensues, Inky realises whatever it was may or may not have been one
|
||||
> of the wizard's bugs hovering in the shadows earlier or a
|
||||
> disembodied, ectoplasm-spewing prosthetic limb after all. Inky
|
||||
> calls out sheepishly, "Sorry, Young Master Alex! Was that yours?
|
||||
> Oops? Haha?" before smashing two more empty glass bottles as a
|
||||
> distraction for any remaining Cyberplasms lurking on the same
|
||||
> floor, and sprints up the tower stairs, using the banisters as a
|
||||
> guide.
|
||||
|
||||
The Amber Imp is feverishly reporting all the goings on from inside
|
||||
the S.T.A.G. drone when Inky strikes its conveyance with their
|
||||
walking pole. The bug is destroyed on contact. The imp barely manages
|
||||
to fire off one final End Of Transmission post before ejecting from
|
||||
the craft, which sinks below like an exploded firework. It drifts on
|
||||
the currents of smoke and flows out through the hole in the wall into
|
||||
the open air outside. The imp falls through open space and starts to
|
||||
think back on its life. So much time and energy spent chasing its
|
||||
hopes and dreams, its goals and aspirations. So much of its life
|
||||
wasted in pursuit. Always reaching, never grasping. Is that all it
|
||||
gets? Is this the end? Did it ever really even get a chance to really
|
||||
live?
|
||||
|
||||
These thoughts race through its head as it falls, but are cut short
|
||||
when it abruptly lands on a hard bed of cloudstuff. It tumbles and
|
||||
rolls and comes to a stop. And when it looks up, amazed to be alive
|
||||
and vowing to make the most of this second chance at life, it looks
|
||||
up into the benevolent smiling face of a pink zephynos.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
Inky, you cross the floor to where the pirate had its last stand. You
|
||||
find what appears to be approximately one-fifth of the hotelier, and
|
||||
wonder idly where the rest of him might be. And you notice a
|
||||
conspicuous lack of Ginnarak Crystal.
|
||||
|
||||
You do however notice a soft crunch underfoot. And when you bend down
|
||||
to inspect it---disorganized cyberplasms running amok in the smoke
|
||||
behind you---you discover a trail of mango flavored croutons leading
|
||||
across the hall to the tower stairs.
|
||||
|
||||
You sprint up the stairs using the banisters as a guide. The
|
||||
breadcrumb trail ends on the seventh level, where Confidence sits
|
||||
slumped against the wall between two bookshelves. They have one arm
|
||||
around four-fifths of the hotelier, his shocked gaze telling you
|
||||
everything you need to know, that he is entirely dead but just
|
||||
doesn't know it yet. Their other arm is around Bread, who has
|
||||
suffered a massive wound to the chest and is only slightly more alive
|
||||
than the hotelier. On the ground between Confidence's legs is the
|
||||
Ginnarak Crystal. Several loose pages are stuck to its sides, held in
|
||||
place by drying blood and ectoplasm.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence looks at you and smiles wearily. "We left a trail for you.
|
||||
It was Bread's idea. They were a good guide."
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00250.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,156 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00049
|
||||
created: Thu, 29 Dec 2022 18:55:34 -0700
|
||||
updated: Fri, 30 Dec 2022 08:12:55 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00049 {#00049}
|
||||
|
||||
> "They *are* a good guide," Inky corrects adamantly. "Do you hear
|
||||
> that, Bread? You're not allowed to disappear until you've had an
|
||||
> entire bag of these croutons, and even then you're still not
|
||||
> allowed. If I'd known you'd never had croutons before I wouldn't
|
||||
> have let you walk a step further into that hall. That was
|
||||
> simultaneously the worst and best idea ever. Mango! Croutons! What
|
||||
> a travesty. Did you even taste any of it? No? You have to! How can
|
||||
> you offer guests delicious fondue without croutons? Speaking of
|
||||
> which, we haven't gotten that fondue you promised yet, that's
|
||||
> reason #144 you can't disappear. What's reason #143? Crostinis.
|
||||
> Small toasted bread. Slice of life. You can put cheese on it too,
|
||||
> if you really must …"
|
||||
>
|
||||
> And so on. While Inky talks at Bread in a bid to keep them
|
||||
> conscious, they whisk out a first-aid kit from their courier bag
|
||||
> and kneeling on the floor, proceeds to stem the bleeding from the
|
||||
> chest wound with coagulant-coated bandages. Slowly, they tip a
|
||||
> flask of tea infused with some restorative herbs down Bread's open
|
||||
> mouth, careful not to pour too quickly. Inky pauses mid-diatribe
|
||||
> and mid-pour to thrust another flask of tea into Confidence's hand,
|
||||
> the one wrapped four-fifths of the hotelier and ask, "Are you
|
||||
> injured? Please keep an eye on your companion, I will summon for
|
||||
> assistance."
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Standing up, Inky walks to a window, opens it and peers out. They
|
||||
> look around for a hot air balloon and notice the unmoored airship.
|
||||
> After squinting at it with a mini-spyglass, they see Alex standing
|
||||
> at the helm of the ship with a young hemogoblin on board. Inky
|
||||
> waves, and makes a vertical cross sign with a fist and thumb on the
|
||||
> opposite upper arm a few times. Next, they pull out a small tin
|
||||
> whistle, and toot a few sharp notes in the same cadence as the
|
||||
> one-liner directed at Bread earlier by the gondola station. After a
|
||||
> moment, a scops owl swoops in to land on the windowsill. Inky
|
||||
> inserts a rolled piece of paper into a small pouch hanging at the
|
||||
> bird's back, and the bird flies off again.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Returning to the figures slumped against the wall, Inky places the
|
||||
> Ginnarak crystal in a lightly padded cloth bag, stowing it away in
|
||||
> their knapsack-style backpack. They resume checking and tending to
|
||||
> the toques' injuries, while expounding upon various permutations of
|
||||
> toasted bread to a captive audience.
|
||||
|
||||
Bread closes their eyes and smiles dreamily at the descriptions of
|
||||
various breads. They weakly sip the tea as you tip it into their
|
||||
mouth and swallow with effort.
|
||||
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to stabilize Bread
|
||||
2 = Things go poorly
|
||||
Spend 1 remaining xp to advance = Success + gain Medicine 2
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
|
||||
They sigh and open their eyes. They focus on you and maintain eye
|
||||
contact as you draw from a seemingly bottomless well of knowledge on
|
||||
the topic of toasted breads. Bread and life are clinging fast to each
|
||||
other, neither ready or willing to let go of the other. They are
|
||||
going to be okay.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence's wounds are superficial. They are winded from dragging
|
||||
Bread and the hotelier up seven flights of stairs. But they are fine.
|
||||
|
||||
The hotelier's wounds are sadly quite fatal. Honestly it was all over
|
||||
for him the moment he took the full force of the captain's plasma
|
||||
canon to his chest. He babbles, "It's not ... I wasn't ..." And then
|
||||
with sudden realization and quiet resignation, a clear-eyed, "Oh."
|
||||
And then he is gone.
|
||||
|
||||
His courage in the face of danger is the reason you now have the
|
||||
third of the five Ginnarak Crystals in your pack. Whether or not his
|
||||
death was in vain is now largely up to you and what you decide to do
|
||||
with the crystal.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
Downstairs in the Great Hall of the library, one of the remaining
|
||||
Cyberplasms crouches down next to the inert cybernetic eye that until
|
||||
very recently belonged to their captain. They pick it up and turn it
|
||||
over in their hand. "Worry not, my captain," the ghost mourns. "We
|
||||
will find the quintessence. And once we do, we will be made anew in
|
||||
the forge of our Mother."
|
||||
|
||||
He rolls the orb in palm of his hand. A faint arc of energy crackles
|
||||
across its surface. And the eye rolls over of its own volition and
|
||||
looks up at the pirate.
|
||||
|
||||
Suddenly reverent, the pirate gently places the eye on the ground as
|
||||
a ghostly face begins to form around it. The pirate waits patiently,
|
||||
attentively. It's not every day one gets to bare witness to a new
|
||||
birth. The ectoplasm that gathers around the eye forms a rail-thin
|
||||
body. Its head is bald and its face sports a neatly trimmed mustache.
|
||||
It is missing an arm and a leg.
|
||||
|
||||
Dutifully, the witness fetches a recently discarded arm canon and leg
|
||||
booster. The exotica tap into the energy provided by a new crossing
|
||||
over, and come online, and create a new mesh.
|
||||
|
||||
The hotelier stands and looks down at its new body. As it were. It
|
||||
looks around at its surroundings. It picks up a few books and starts
|
||||
shelving them.
|
||||
|
||||
The pirate, mostly wishing to provide companionship and comfort to
|
||||
the new ghost, assists with tidying up.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
Alex, you are at the helm of the balloon-ship. As you start to drift
|
||||
slightly up and away, the blue dome of the hotel comes into view. On
|
||||
its peak you can see a life-sized statue of a stern-faced
|
||||
Runesocesius wielding a spear, drawn back as though ready to hurl an
|
||||
angry thunderbolt down at the world below.
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin is still down on the deck by the canons. You see it
|
||||
waving cheerily at the library tower. You squint in that direction,
|
||||
but can't see what has caught its attention.
|
||||
|
||||
A small tufted-ear owl silently lands next to you breaking you from
|
||||
your reverie. The owl is wearing a small harness with a pouch at the
|
||||
back. Inside the pouch is a rolled piece of paper signed by Inky, up
|
||||
on the seventh floor of the tower.
|
||||
|
||||
You count seven windows up the side of the tower from its base. There
|
||||
seems to be some movement inside, but you can't make much out from
|
||||
here. With a lucky shot, you think you might be able to hook the
|
||||
window frame with a zipline.
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
Outside, a pink zephynos is spinning raw cloud into a minuscule opera
|
||||
house and performing arts center under the direction of an amber imp
|
||||
with a new hunger for life. It is an organic looking structure: a
|
||||
primary concert hall, surrounded by a number of smaller stages and
|
||||
performance areas spiraling out from the center like a nautilus
|
||||
shell.
|
||||
|
||||
The imp smiles happily, proudly. What tales will be told here! What
|
||||
songs will be sung! "Lorehold," it whispers to itself. "You will tell
|
||||
the world's stories."
|
||||
|
||||
It is already trying out lines in its head, imagining the play it
|
||||
will write of this day. About the hotel and the library and the
|
||||
pirates and the cloud dragons. About a pair of adventurers. And a
|
||||
very brave and lucky drone pilot that dared to chase its dreams.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00252.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,63 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00050
|
||||
created: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 10:33:06 -0700
|
||||
updated: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 10:33:07 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00050 {#00050}
|
||||
|
||||
> Meta: I look forward to reading the A.I.'s play once it's written,
|
||||
> we should go back and write the sequence of events for this segment
|
||||
> from their perspective in play form at some point.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex gingerly takes the note from the owl and reads it quickly. "I
|
||||
> guess my S.T.A.G. got to Inky after all." Eyeing the tower and
|
||||
> cutting up the windows, it looks like maybe I'd get a shot in from
|
||||
> the zip line. But it's iffy.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex grabs the wheel and guides the balloonship slowly up a few
|
||||
> levels. From that vantage point it should only be 3-4 levels
|
||||
> between the ship and I.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> After getting the ship in place he grabs a zip line canon and
|
||||
> launches it at one of the windows on the 7th floor, sinking the
|
||||
> anchor firmly beneath the window.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Now to signal Inky... Alex rummages around the ship, finding both a
|
||||
> signal flare gun and flares in the cargo hold, at least the pirates
|
||||
> were prepared for the worst. Taking aim away from the Balloon
|
||||
> Sails, Alex fires the flare up into the air creating a dazingly and
|
||||
> bright signal in the sky.
|
||||
|
||||
You fire the zipline and the hemogoblin cheers adorably. The spear
|
||||
pierces the stone right beneath the 7th floor window, and the hooks
|
||||
extend and foam, cementing the line in place.
|
||||
|
||||
In a locker on the side of the ship you find a few signal flares. You
|
||||
point them away from the balloons and fire into the sky. The flares
|
||||
explode brilliantly and hang dazzling in the sky before slowly
|
||||
drifting downward.
|
||||
|
||||
A pair of zephynos swim over, attracted by the brilliant sparkling
|
||||
lights. They excitedly bat at the air with their hands and turn
|
||||
somersaults. They pull at some clouds and squeeze them into dozens of
|
||||
abstract forms inspired by the bursts. They toss them back and forth
|
||||
playfully and soon the boulders are drifting around listlessly
|
||||
overhead.
|
||||
|
||||
Below, almost all of the Cyberplasms have noticed by now that their
|
||||
ship has been stolen. Several crowd into the hole in the wall and
|
||||
shout and shake their fists at you.
|
||||
|
||||
You hear a low chirrup behind you and turn to see the hemogoblin
|
||||
standing in the middle of the deck. Somehow in all the commotion it
|
||||
has managed to get its tiny little hands on the ruby-hilted dagger.
|
||||
It grips the hilt tightly in both hands and gazes in wide-eyed wonder
|
||||
at the gem, utterly captivated, back turned to the fireworks. The
|
||||
hemogoblin and the blade are absolutely dripping with rivers of
|
||||
blood. A decent sized pool has already formed at its feet.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00257.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,117 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00051
|
||||
created: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 17:08:07 -0700
|
||||
updated: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 17:08:07 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00051 {#00051}
|
||||
|
||||
> As they wait for the balloonship to approach, Inky glances to the
|
||||
> prone remains of the hotelier on the floor and frowns. There wasn't
|
||||
> much they could do about that now. It was really inconvenient
|
||||
> timing — he hadn't received the papers yet. Inky can already
|
||||
> picture Cio's unspoken but palpable disappointment even as she
|
||||
> offered reassurances that it was perfectly fine. The gnawing guilt
|
||||
> she could inflict with a look was worse than a tenacious terrorier
|
||||
> with a bone biscuit. Then Inky recalls an urban legend from the
|
||||
> elderly aunts they sometimes pass by during teatimes, which claim
|
||||
> that it was possible to send messages and items to the deceased by
|
||||
> burning the articles.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Ducking momentarily behind another bookshelf, Inky removes an
|
||||
> envelope bearing the seal of a butterfly in red wax, drops it into
|
||||
> a recently-emptied shortbread tin and holds a lit match to a corner
|
||||
> of the paper. Before long the entire envelope is consumed by the
|
||||
> flames and the lid replaced tightly over the tin. If the paperwork
|
||||
> found its way to the hotelier on the spiritual plane, that would be
|
||||
> the formalities completed. Or if it was reduced to ashes without
|
||||
> ever reaching the recipient, no one had to know.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Inky walks back to the window to see a flare light and a zip line
|
||||
> ending below the windowsill. They look to the other end of the
|
||||
> line, back to the toques, and around the room. Their gaze lands on
|
||||
> a few cloth covers draped over several bookshelves near an alcove
|
||||
> from top to bottom, possibly to protect the manuscripts on the
|
||||
> shelves from extended exposure to dust and light. They tie a large
|
||||
> red kerchief to the zip line to indicate they had seen flare
|
||||
> signal, before turning to Confidence. "There's an airship waiting
|
||||
> outside with a zip line. We should get Bread patched up by a healer
|
||||
> in town. It wouldn't do to have them walk around like that, unless
|
||||
> you want to turn the hotel into a haunted house attraction."
|
||||
>
|
||||
> As they finish speaking, Inky pulls off three of the covers, two
|
||||
> iron spears and one of the two decorative flag poles with flags
|
||||
> featuring the crest of Runesocesius, and a symbol (of the old town,
|
||||
> Inky surmises) that stood in a nook between the wall and a
|
||||
> bookshelf. Crossing over to a wall display of ceremonial chains and
|
||||
> maces, they remove two of the metal chains that hung on from hooks
|
||||
> on the wall. Having gathered the items, they retrieve two zip line
|
||||
> harnesses, some parachute cord and two additional pulley hooks from
|
||||
> their bag.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> They lay the chains on the floor about two feet apart, followed by
|
||||
> the cloth sheets with their outer surfaces facing down over them,
|
||||
> and tie the corners at both ends to the flag pole to form the base
|
||||
> of a makeshift hammock. With Confidence's help, they slide Bread
|
||||
> onto the sheets, being cautious to avoid further jostling the
|
||||
> toque's injuries. Inky wraps the ends of the chains around the
|
||||
> flagpole, tying them and the cloth bundle with loops of parachute
|
||||
> cord, and sets the pulley hooks to links on the top surface of the
|
||||
> flag pole.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Inky puts on a zip line harness and throws the spare one to
|
||||
> Confidence, directing them to do the same. With some difficulty,
|
||||
> they hoist the bundle of Bread to the window. Inky descends first,
|
||||
> hooking their harness pulley to the zip line as they brace against
|
||||
> the tower wall. As the bundle is slowly lowered through the window,
|
||||
> Inky connects the pulley hooks on the metal chains to the zip line,
|
||||
> Confidence bringing up the rear while Inky holds the hammock
|
||||
> steady.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> While the zephynos play overhead, the three of them prepare to
|
||||
> slide down to the deck of the balloonship along the zip line.
|
||||
|
||||
Confidence and Inky, framing the Bread basket between them, slide
|
||||
down the zipline to the balloonship. The zephynos frolic up overhead,
|
||||
and the hole in the library wall gapes below. And beyond that, the
|
||||
endless sea of clouds.
|
||||
|
||||
Inky, having descended the line first, makes it to the ship ahead of
|
||||
Bread and Confidence. They clambor up over the side, unhook themself,
|
||||
and reach for the corner of the hammock.
|
||||
|
||||
The 3rd Ginnarak Crystal is now on the deck of the ship.
|
||||
|
||||
Looking up, Inky sees that two determined cyberplasms have started
|
||||
following them out the library tower window. Neither has a harness.
|
||||
One is hanging upside down on the cable, arms and legs wrapped around
|
||||
it, and has managed to shimmy a couple feet away from Runesocesius.
|
||||
The other has just swung out of the window and is holding onto the
|
||||
line with their hands. They are kicking their legs up over and over,
|
||||
trying to swing high enough to lock their ankles around the cable.
|
||||
|
||||
In the time that it will take you to unhook the hammock and get both
|
||||
Bread and Confidence onto the ship, the two pirates will have closed
|
||||
most of the distance between you and might be within striking
|
||||
distance.
|
||||
|
||||
Meanwhile on the deck of the ship, the hemogoblin is deeply entranced
|
||||
by a private conversation it seems to be having with the ruby-hilt
|
||||
dagger. It nods and chirps and coos as it continues to strangle the
|
||||
grip in its tiny bloody hands, singing softly and soothingly. The
|
||||
ruby flashes and glints, almost strobe-like in the sunlight, as
|
||||
though in the midst of some kind of struggle. But as the hemogoblin
|
||||
continues its strange lullaby, the gem eventually fades and grows
|
||||
dull, until finally it resembles nothing more than a lifeless lump of
|
||||
stone.
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin releases its death grip on the dagger and lowers its
|
||||
arms to its sides, allowing the dagger to slip to the ground. It
|
||||
looks up at you happily with ruby-red eyes that seem to flash in the
|
||||
sunlight, and it chirps merrily.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00014.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,56 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00052
|
||||
created: Mon, 02 Jan 2023 12:38:09 -0700
|
||||
updated: Mon, 02 Jan 2023 12:38:09 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00052 {#00052}
|
||||
|
||||
> Hmm well, that umm, heya little fella. What umm, what did you find
|
||||
> there? Alex moves to pick up Uncle Corraidhin's dagger, noting that
|
||||
> it's not nearly as brilliant as it was before. The ruby gem in the
|
||||
> hilt appearing far closer to black obsidian now, rather unnerving all
|
||||
> things considered..
|
||||
>
|
||||
> "There's definitely something wrong with this Hemogoblin, this isn't
|
||||
> normal" Alex thinks to himself, "What in the ever loving run level 0
|
||||
> did Uncle have this dagger for, and why the hell would he stuff it
|
||||
> inside some old book." He deftly pockets the dagger, for further
|
||||
> inspection once they're back at base. Likely someone at HQ can do a
|
||||
> deeper analysis of it then. Thinking ahead, Alex also grabs a
|
||||
> handkerchief from his breast pocket and soaks it in the pool of blood
|
||||
> around the hemogoblin, better than nothing he supposes.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Pulling a multi pronged instrument labelled "GBD" from his bag Alex
|
||||
> begins to inspect the hemogoblin for magical, metaphysical, and
|
||||
> technological aburations. "Just sit still a bit little fella, lets
|
||||
> see what's going on"
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin hums merrily as you retrieve the dagger and
|
||||
fruitlessly attempt to mop up the pool of blood. It wriggles
|
||||
around---suddenly seemingly boneless---and giggles and blows
|
||||
raspberries as you try to take measurements with the GBD. It is kind
|
||||
of annoying but also totally cute.
|
||||
|
||||
Your instrument picks up on an anomaly. You have a clear vital signal
|
||||
for the hemogoblin. That's normal. And there is an extremely high
|
||||
amount of ferrous material inside of it. But you think that's also
|
||||
probably normal for a hemogoblin. Finally, there is a faint signal of
|
||||
some other kind of entity. And that is not normal.
|
||||
|
||||
Under normal circumstances you would say, given the measurements,
|
||||
that this second non-goblin entity is in some kind of stable but
|
||||
near-death or catatonic state. As though it is a deep sleep. Is there
|
||||
some weird magic at work here? Or is this some strange,
|
||||
undocumented part of the normal hemogoblin physiology? Did this
|
||||
little fella just absorb a knife spirit?
|
||||
|
||||
The hemogoblin reaches up and holds your hand as you pass the
|
||||
instrument over its body. It smiles at you happily.
|
||||
|
||||
WHAT DO YOU DO
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00016.html)
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
|
|
@ -1,100 +0,0 @@
|
|||
---
|
||||
title: 00053
|
||||
created: Mon, 02 Jan 2023 14:15:49 -0700
|
||||
updated: Mon, 02 Jan 2023 14:15:49 -0700
|
||||
syndicated: yes
|
||||
public: yes
|
||||
---
|
||||
### 00053 {#00053}
|
||||
|
||||
> The GDB flashes, vibrates, and murmurs electronic static as it
|
||||
> collects information from the Hemogoblin. "Peculiar readings indeed"
|
||||
> Alex mutters, stashing the blood sample and readings from the device.
|
||||
> Best to scp a copy of these for safe keeping.
|
||||
>
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
> scp gdb-readout.dat blood-soaked-handky hq:~
|
||||
> ```
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alright little guy, dunno what's wrong with ya, but you seem just as
|
||||
> sweet and chipper as you were before, best not let anything foul
|
||||
> befall you. Alex scoops the little hemogoblin up and puts him into
|
||||
> his pack. The little goblin chirps happily, soaking the back in
|
||||
> blood. "Hmm I guess I'll need a new cloak when we get to town.. good
|
||||
> thing the STAGS are water proof." Taking accord of the situation Alex
|
||||
> notices that Ink has dropped onto the deck, and is hurridly beckoning
|
||||
> what looks like a stretcher and confidence down the zip line. "I
|
||||
> guess things went not so smoothly back in the hotel then.."
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Looking up past confidence along the zip line Alex also notes a set
|
||||
> of cyberplasms making their way clumsily along the zipline. "Shit!
|
||||
> Inky, Confidence! Get the hell on the ship NOW!"
|
||||
>
|
||||
> Alex dashes back up to the helm of the ship and grabs the wheel. As
|
||||
> soon as Inky has Confidence and the stretcher safely on the deck Alex
|
||||
> grabs the wheel and casts the wheel hard to starboard side, ripping
|
||||
> the zipline and moarings from the wall of the hotel. "Inky cut the
|
||||
> zipline, quick a you can, and check the side of the hull for any stow
|
||||
> aways!!"
|
||||
|
||||
~
|
||||
|
||||
> As the toques slide down the last few feet to the deck of the
|
||||
> balloonship. Inky takes out a sharp knife and saws through the
|
||||
> zipline. As they patrol along the edge to check the side of the
|
||||
> hull for additional company, Inky pulls out a tea strainer from
|
||||
> their kit and opens a bag of limequats, small round fruits they
|
||||
> keep around for their zest and juice to flavour some infusions.
|
||||
> They drop a limequat into the strainer, preparing to fling a ball
|
||||
> of citrus at the potential presence of any stowaways.
|
||||
|
||||
Inky and Confidence carefully dump Bread onto the deck of the ship.
|
||||
They grunt at the impact and mutter a weak thank you.
|
||||
|
||||
Inky starts to saw through the zipline with their knife. The closest
|
||||
cyberplasm can almost reach out for the railing and haul itself up.
|
||||
The second pirate is not far behind it. Alex yanks the ship hard to
|
||||
starboard and---thanks to Inky sawing on it---the line snaps cleanly
|
||||
in two.
|
||||
|
||||
Inky looks over the railing in time to see the second pirate fall
|
||||
into the sea of clouds with a surprised look on its face. There is no
|
||||
trace of the first one. As Inky patrols alongside the edge to check
|
||||
for additional company, they see one ghostly hand and then the other
|
||||
reach up and grab hold of the rail.
|
||||
|
||||
When the cyberplasm pops its head up and peers over the railing, the
|
||||
first thing it sees is a tea strainer flying at its face. It tries to
|
||||
turn away, but ends up with a face full of limequat juice
|
||||
nonetheless. As the citrus starts to burn, it squeezes its eyes shut
|
||||
tight, even tighter than its grip on the railing. All of its focus
|
||||
and effort is concentrated on the burning sensation in its eyes. On
|
||||
autopilot, one of its hands lets go of the railing to quickly wipe
|
||||
the juice away.
|
||||
|
||||
When it grips the railing again, its hand is now slick with juice,
|
||||
and it slips. Knocked off balance and unable to get a grip, the
|
||||
pirate cries out as it too falls into the ocean of clouds, eyes
|
||||
squeezed shut the whole time.
|
||||
|
||||
Poking its head and arms out of the pack on Alex's back, the
|
||||
hemogoblin claps and cheers.
|
||||
|
||||
The balloonship sails away from Runesocesius and from Kelsun Peak.
|
||||
The sun is starting to set, and the clouds are turning brilliant
|
||||
pinks and reds. This delights the zephynos, who leap and cavort in
|
||||
the clouds, and run playfully alongside the ship for a while.
|
||||
|
||||
You have in your possession a stolen pirate airship, a recovered
|
||||
Ginnarak Crystal, a couple novellas and manhwa, two warrior toque
|
||||
tour guides, and a childlike hemogoblin who may or may not be
|
||||
possessed by some kind of spirit.
|
||||
|
||||
END OF CHAPTER 3
|
||||
|
||||
- What do you do once you get back to the Milk Market?
|
||||
- Do you keep the airship?
|
||||
- What becomes of Confidence and Bread?
|
||||
- What do you do with the goblin child?
|
||||
|
||||
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00019.html)
|
||||
|
|
@ -308,25 +308,9 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
|
|||
</ul></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#chapter-1" id="toc-chapter-1">Chapter 1</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#chapter-2" id="toc-chapter-2">Chapter 2</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#current-story" id="toc-current-story">Current Story</a>
|
||||
<ul>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00038" id="toc-00038">00038</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00039" id="toc-00039">00039</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00040" id="toc-00040">00040</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00041" id="toc-00041">00041</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00042" id="toc-00042">00042</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00043" id="toc-00043">00043</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00044" id="toc-00044">00044</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00045" id="toc-00045">00045</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00046" id="toc-00046">00046</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00047" id="toc-00047">00047</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00048" id="toc-00048">00048</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00049" id="toc-00049">00049</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00050" id="toc-00050">00050</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00051" id="toc-00051">00051</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00052" id="toc-00052">00052</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00053" id="toc-00053">00053</a></li>
|
||||
</ul></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#chapter-3" id="toc-chapter-3">Chapter 3</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#current-story" id="toc-current-story">Current
|
||||
Story</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#cosmology" id="toc-cosmology">Cosmology</a></li>
|
||||
|
|
@ -358,11 +342,11 @@ Runesocesius</a></li>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
</nav>
|
||||
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
|
||||
<p>Total length: 55749 words / 238 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
<p>Total length: 55744 words / 238 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not
|
||||
just the story.)</p>
|
||||
<p>There have been 185 messages posted over 173 days since the first
|
||||
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.06.</p>
|
||||
<p>There have been 188 messages posted over 174 days since the first
|
||||
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.08.</p>
|
||||
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
|
||||
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
|
||||
email.</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -3982,12 +3966,19 @@ mission?</li>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00093.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h2 id="current-story">Current Story</h2>
|
||||
<p>Below are emails that I send to the mailing list.</p>
|
||||
<p>You can subscribe to these updates with the rss feed.</p>
|
||||
<p><a href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml"
|
||||
class="uri">https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00038">00038</h3>
|
||||
<h2 id="chapter-3">Chapter 3</h2>
|
||||
<p>Chapter 3 of BASEMENT QUEST.</p>
|
||||
<p>Jump to: <a href="#00038">38</a> <a href="#00039">39</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00040">40</a> <a href="#00041">41</a> <a href="#00042">42</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00043">43</a> <a href="#00044">44</a> <a href="#00045">45</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00046">46</a> <a href="#00047">47</a> <a href="#00048">48</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00049">49</a> <a href="#00050">50</a> <a href="#00051">51</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00052">52</a> <a href="#00053">53</a></p>
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
do this:
|
||||
ls -1 src/epistolary/000{38..53}.md | xargs pandoc -f markdown -t markdown >> src/chapter3.md
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
<h4 id="00038">00038</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>The mission, party-wise, had been an abject failure.</p>
|
||||
<p>They had found the crystal, and Master Corraidhín had vanished. Inky
|
||||
|
|
@ -4338,7 +4329,7 @@ the 1st Crystal?</li>
|
|||
<p>Find out next time on BASEMENT QUEST</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00097.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00039">00039</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00039">00039</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Alex silently observes the party and this foolish hobbit, before him
|
||||
three untouched drinks have accumulated. He’s a little less enthusiatic
|
||||
|
|
@ -4511,7 +4502,7 @@ Lucy’s before Blavin leaves if you want to.</p>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00103.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00040">00040</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00040">00040</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As Blavin finished his afterthought about handing over the crystal, a
|
||||
yelp was the only warning they heard before a young waiter was suddenly
|
||||
|
|
@ -4680,7 +4671,7 @@ you will take posession of the Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00186.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00041">00041</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00041">00041</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Alex grips the encoded message he received in reply to his last
|
||||
request firmly in his coat pocket. It was simple, curt, impactful.
|
||||
|
|
@ -4755,7 +4746,7 @@ cloudstuff. “Come! The hotelier will be very excited to greet you!”</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00193.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00042">00042</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00042">00042</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>This seems a bit strange. Certainly Blavin has been pulling strings
|
||||
from behind the scenes the whole time, but why coordinate a special
|
||||
|
|
@ -4878,7 +4869,7 @@ bounding up the cloudstuff steps.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00203.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00043">00043</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00043">00043</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Pirates?! Again?! Alex groans, unfortunately he’s run into this crew
|
||||
of dastardly mostly cybernetic punks in the past. Nasty group back home,
|
||||
|
|
@ -4964,7 +4955,7 @@ hotel entrance, roughly pirate-adjacent.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00217.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00044">00044</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00044">00044</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As Alex spots the sunspoke valve he grabs it and cranks it up to the
|
||||
2/3 mark. “Sorry little friend, we’re going to need a little bit more
|
||||
|
|
@ -5001,7 +4992,7 @@ stowaway!</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00219.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00045">00045</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00045">00045</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As the blankets draw back from the bloody mass, a cute little
|
||||
hemogoblin appears. “Aww little fellas just scared.” Alex lowers the
|
||||
|
|
@ -5072,7 +5063,7 @@ offensive stances. “Oh!” cries Bread. “It’s you!”</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00227.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00046">00046</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00046">00046</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Ah so I suppose those Toques were being honest then, there was a
|
||||
Ginnarak crystal, and I guess they were going to give it to us.. oh
|
||||
|
|
@ -5189,7 +5180,7 @@ airship shifts as it starts to drift, suddenly unmoored.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00231.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00047">00047</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00047">00047</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Damn it! I should’ve left the little goblin in the balloon, this
|
||||
could get tricky..</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -5282,7 +5273,7 @@ wisely doesn’t make a sound as he disappears from view.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00234.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00048">00048</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00048">00048</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Alex snatches up his new hemo friend cheering huzzah as he does.
|
||||
We’ve got a pirate ship little guy!</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -5483,7 +5474,7 @@ It was Bread’s idea. They were a good guide.”</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00250.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00049">00049</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00049">00049</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>“They <em>are</em> a good guide,” Inky corrects adamantly. “Do you
|
||||
hear that, Bread? You’re not allowed to disappear until you’ve had an
|
||||
|
|
@ -5604,7 +5595,7 @@ lucky drone pilot that dared to chase its dreams.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00252.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00050">00050</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00050">00050</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Meta: I look forward to reading the A.I.’s play once it’s written, we
|
||||
should go back and write the sequence of events for this segment from
|
||||
|
|
@ -5651,7 +5642,7 @@ has already formed at its feet.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00257.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00051">00051</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00051">00051</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As they wait for the balloonship to approach, Inky glances to the
|
||||
prone remains of the hotelier on the floor and frowns. There wasn’t much
|
||||
|
|
@ -5742,7 +5733,7 @@ and it chirps merrily.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00014.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00052">00052</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00052">00052</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Hmm well, that umm, heya little fella. What umm, what did you find
|
||||
there? Alex moves to pick up Uncle Corraidhin’s dagger, noting that it’s
|
||||
|
|
@ -5783,7 +5774,7 @@ instrument over its body. It smiles at you happily.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00016.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00053">00053</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00053">00053</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>The GDB flashes, vibrates, and murmurs electronic static as it
|
||||
collects information from the Hemogoblin. “Peculiar readings indeed”
|
||||
|
|
@ -5862,6 +5853,11 @@ some kind of spirit.</p>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00019.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h2 id="current-story">Current Story</h2>
|
||||
<p>Below are emails that I send to the mailing list.</p>
|
||||
<p>You can subscribe to these updates with the rss feed.</p>
|
||||
<p><a href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml"
|
||||
class="uri">https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</a></p>
|
||||
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
|
||||
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
|
||||
<dt>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
2296
www/rss.xml
2296
www/rss.xml
File diff suppressed because it is too large
Load Diff
|
|
@ -308,25 +308,9 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
|
|||
</ul></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#chapter-1" id="toc-chapter-1">Chapter 1</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#chapter-2" id="toc-chapter-2">Chapter 2</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#current-story" id="toc-current-story">Current Story</a>
|
||||
<ul>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00038" id="toc-00038">00038</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00039" id="toc-00039">00039</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00040" id="toc-00040">00040</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00041" id="toc-00041">00041</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00042" id="toc-00042">00042</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00043" id="toc-00043">00043</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00044" id="toc-00044">00044</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00045" id="toc-00045">00045</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00046" id="toc-00046">00046</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00047" id="toc-00047">00047</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00048" id="toc-00048">00048</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00049" id="toc-00049">00049</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00050" id="toc-00050">00050</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00051" id="toc-00051">00051</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00052" id="toc-00052">00052</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#00053" id="toc-00053">00053</a></li>
|
||||
</ul></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#chapter-3" id="toc-chapter-3">Chapter 3</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#current-story" id="toc-current-story">Current
|
||||
Story</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
|
||||
<li><a href="#cosmology" id="toc-cosmology">Cosmology</a></li>
|
||||
|
|
@ -361,11 +345,11 @@ Runesocesius</a></li>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
</nav>
|
||||
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
|
||||
<p>Total length: 55749 words / 238 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
<p>Total length: 55744 words / 238 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
|
||||
length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not
|
||||
just the story.)</p>
|
||||
<p>There have been 185 messages posted over 173 days since the first
|
||||
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.06.</p>
|
||||
<p>There have been 188 messages posted over 174 days since the first
|
||||
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.08.</p>
|
||||
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
|
||||
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
|
||||
email.</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -3985,12 +3969,19 @@ mission?</li>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00093.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h2 id="current-story">Current Story</h2>
|
||||
<p>Below are emails that I send to the mailing list.</p>
|
||||
<p>You can subscribe to these updates with the rss feed.</p>
|
||||
<p><a href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml"
|
||||
class="uri">https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00038">00038</h3>
|
||||
<h2 id="chapter-3">Chapter 3</h2>
|
||||
<p>Chapter 3 of BASEMENT QUEST.</p>
|
||||
<p>Jump to: <a href="#00038">38</a> <a href="#00039">39</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00040">40</a> <a href="#00041">41</a> <a href="#00042">42</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00043">43</a> <a href="#00044">44</a> <a href="#00045">45</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00046">46</a> <a href="#00047">47</a> <a href="#00048">48</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00049">49</a> <a href="#00050">50</a> <a href="#00051">51</a> <a
|
||||
href="#00052">52</a> <a href="#00053">53</a></p>
|
||||
<!--
|
||||
do this:
|
||||
ls -1 src/epistolary/000{38..53}.md | xargs pandoc -f markdown -t markdown >> src/chapter3.md
|
||||
//-->
|
||||
<h4 id="00038">00038</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>The mission, party-wise, had been an abject failure.</p>
|
||||
<p>They had found the crystal, and Master Corraidhín had vanished. Inky
|
||||
|
|
@ -4341,7 +4332,7 @@ the 1st Crystal?</li>
|
|||
<p>Find out next time on BASEMENT QUEST</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00097.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00039">00039</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00039">00039</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Alex silently observes the party and this foolish hobbit, before him
|
||||
three untouched drinks have accumulated. He’s a little less enthusiatic
|
||||
|
|
@ -4514,7 +4505,7 @@ Lucy’s before Blavin leaves if you want to.</p>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00103.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00040">00040</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00040">00040</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As Blavin finished his afterthought about handing over the crystal, a
|
||||
yelp was the only warning they heard before a young waiter was suddenly
|
||||
|
|
@ -4683,7 +4674,7 @@ you will take posession of the Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00186.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00041">00041</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00041">00041</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Alex grips the encoded message he received in reply to his last
|
||||
request firmly in his coat pocket. It was simple, curt, impactful.
|
||||
|
|
@ -4758,7 +4749,7 @@ cloudstuff. “Come! The hotelier will be very excited to greet you!”</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00193.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00042">00042</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00042">00042</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>This seems a bit strange. Certainly Blavin has been pulling strings
|
||||
from behind the scenes the whole time, but why coordinate a special
|
||||
|
|
@ -4881,7 +4872,7 @@ bounding up the cloudstuff steps.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00203.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00043">00043</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00043">00043</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Pirates?! Again?! Alex groans, unfortunately he’s run into this crew
|
||||
of dastardly mostly cybernetic punks in the past. Nasty group back home,
|
||||
|
|
@ -4967,7 +4958,7 @@ hotel entrance, roughly pirate-adjacent.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00217.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00044">00044</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00044">00044</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As Alex spots the sunspoke valve he grabs it and cranks it up to the
|
||||
2/3 mark. “Sorry little friend, we’re going to need a little bit more
|
||||
|
|
@ -5004,7 +4995,7 @@ stowaway!</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00219.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00045">00045</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00045">00045</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As the blankets draw back from the bloody mass, a cute little
|
||||
hemogoblin appears. “Aww little fellas just scared.” Alex lowers the
|
||||
|
|
@ -5075,7 +5066,7 @@ offensive stances. “Oh!” cries Bread. “It’s you!”</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00227.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00046">00046</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00046">00046</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Ah so I suppose those Toques were being honest then, there was a
|
||||
Ginnarak crystal, and I guess they were going to give it to us.. oh
|
||||
|
|
@ -5192,7 +5183,7 @@ airship shifts as it starts to drift, suddenly unmoored.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00231.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00047">00047</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00047">00047</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Damn it! I should’ve left the little goblin in the balloon, this
|
||||
could get tricky..</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -5285,7 +5276,7 @@ wisely doesn’t make a sound as he disappears from view.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00234.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00048">00048</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00048">00048</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Alex snatches up his new hemo friend cheering huzzah as he does.
|
||||
We’ve got a pirate ship little guy!</p>
|
||||
|
|
@ -5486,7 +5477,7 @@ It was Bread’s idea. They were a good guide.”</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00250.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00049">00049</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00049">00049</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>“They <em>are</em> a good guide,” Inky corrects adamantly. “Do you
|
||||
hear that, Bread? You’re not allowed to disappear until you’ve had an
|
||||
|
|
@ -5607,7 +5598,7 @@ lucky drone pilot that dared to chase its dreams.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00252.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00050">00050</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00050">00050</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Meta: I look forward to reading the A.I.’s play once it’s written, we
|
||||
should go back and write the sequence of events for this segment from
|
||||
|
|
@ -5654,7 +5645,7 @@ has already formed at its feet.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00257.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00051">00051</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00051">00051</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>As they wait for the balloonship to approach, Inky glances to the
|
||||
prone remains of the hotelier on the floor and frowns. There wasn’t much
|
||||
|
|
@ -5745,7 +5736,7 @@ and it chirps merrily.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00014.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00052">00052</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00052">00052</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>Hmm well, that umm, heya little fella. What umm, what did you find
|
||||
there? Alex moves to pick up Uncle Corraidhin’s dagger, noting that it’s
|
||||
|
|
@ -5786,7 +5777,7 @@ instrument over its body. It smiles at you happily.</p>
|
|||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00016.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h3 id="00053">00053</h3>
|
||||
<h4 id="00053">00053</h4>
|
||||
<blockquote>
|
||||
<p>The GDB flashes, vibrates, and murmurs electronic static as it
|
||||
collects information from the Hemogoblin. “Peculiar readings indeed”
|
||||
|
|
@ -5865,6 +5856,11 @@ some kind of spirit.</p>
|
|||
</ul>
|
||||
<p><a
|
||||
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2023-01/msg00019.html">www</a></p>
|
||||
<h2 id="current-story">Current Story</h2>
|
||||
<p>Below are emails that I send to the mailing list.</p>
|
||||
<p>You can subscribe to these updates with the rss feed.</p>
|
||||
<p><a href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml"
|
||||
class="uri">https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</a></p>
|
||||
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
|
||||
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
|
||||
<dt>
|
||||
|
|
|
|||
Loading…
Reference in New Issue