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@ -19,6 +19,7 @@ src/epistolary/00022.md
src/epistolary/00023.md
src/epistolary/00024.md
src/epistolary/00025.md
src/epistolary/00026.md
src/bestiary/index.md
src/bestiary/aur.md
src/bestiary/blahoblin.md
@ -27,6 +28,7 @@ src/bestiary/cobit.md
src/bestiary/egre.md
src/bestiary/gnome.md
src/bestiary/gnu.md
src/bestiary/groll.md
src/bestiary/hemogoblin.md
src/bestiary/kobit.md
src/bestiary/torque.md

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---
title: groll
created: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:34:32 -0600
updated: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:34:32 -0600
public: yes
---
<dt>Groll</dt>
: A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of runes and wands.
: <details>![groll](groll.png)</details>

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---
title: hemogoblin
created: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 15:10:54 -0600
updated: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 15:10:54 -0600
updated: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:40:02 -0600
public: yes
---
<dt>Hemogoblin</dt>
: A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don't let it touch that! Ew.
: A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don't let it touch that! Ew.
: Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.
: Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and thus pretty much single-handedly support the "vegetarian" vampire community.
: <details>![hemogoblin](hemogoblin.png)</details>

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---
title: 00026
created: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600
updated: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600
public: yes
syndicated: yes
---
### 00026 {#00026}
> Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky's tugging and Jarrod's strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard to his feet.
>
> With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, follows them shortly after.
>
> The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the bed.
>
> Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
~
> " ... and then the Orc Maiden said: 'That's not my club!'"
>
> The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts a bag of coin down. "Serve drinks until this runs out!" Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: "I owe a favour to Lucy's Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed."
>
> Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.
>
> As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. "Shut it! Let's be clear. You've hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that we're dangerous people. There may be 'accidents' on occasion. You've learned something today, and what's more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom."
>
> Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. "We will finish what we have started. We're probably the team with the best chances, I'm sure you'll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here? Either way, your decision won't change our plans. I'm sure you know how to take the win."
>
> Jarrod pats the hobbit's good shoulder in a friendly, but dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.
WHAT DO YOU DO
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html)

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@ -243,6 +243,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
<li><a href="#00025" id="toc-00025">00025</a></li>
<li><a href="#00026" id="toc-00026">00026</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -252,7 +253,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 21552 words / 92 minutes</p>
<p>Total length: 21989 words / 93 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -2628,6 +2629,51 @@ moment, overstayed.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the
sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky’s tugging and
Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard to his
feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to Jarrod,
Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having emptied the
plate of corn chips in record time, follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the
occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having fallen
asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky retreats
downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small packet of
kuding leaves beside the bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark
corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts a
bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs out!” Leaning over the
bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: “I owe a favour to
Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack,
Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of
hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying,
drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! Let’s be clear. You’ve hired
us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that we’re
dangerous people. There may be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned
something today, and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new
wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will finish what we
have started. We’re probably the team with the best chances, I’m sure
you’ll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here? Either way,
your decision won’t change our plans. I’m sure you know how to take the
win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but dismissive,
way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading small quips with his
new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>
@ -2755,10 +2801,28 @@ politics.
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Groll</dt>
<dd>
A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love
magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items
like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of
runes and wands.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="groll.png" alt="groll" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">groll</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Hemogoblin</dt>
<dd>
A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood
absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
don’t let it touch that! Ew.
</dd>
<dd>
Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.

364
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@ -6,166 +6,64 @@
<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
<item>
<title>23</title>
<title>26</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">23 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52
<guid isPermaLink="false">26 - Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600</pubDate>
<pubDate>Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly
nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs
in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean,
we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of
eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
retrieving them?</p>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly
on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between
Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage
to hoist the wizard to his feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod
to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The
duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time,
follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside
from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage
seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot
in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of
water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the
bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a
dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.</p>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.</p>
<p>Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what
you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something
here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
it.</p>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my
club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar
and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs
out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a
whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble.
Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From
his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the
wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all
kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is
currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it!
Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs,
with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may
be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today,
and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will
finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the
best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the
winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our
plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but
dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern
friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is
precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just
sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
suggestion of evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
it quicker to write</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind.
Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Y’aml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword,
and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think
we’re out of luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
“CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
“Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s
secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and
chortling merrily to itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s
gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is
indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that
far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the
blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime?
Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
veggies and starts pan frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00008.html">www</a></p>
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
@ -423,6 +321,170 @@
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>23</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">23 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly
nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs
in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean,
we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of
eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.</p>
<p>Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what
you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something
here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is
precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just
sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
suggestion of evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
it quicker to write</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind.
Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Y’aml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword,
and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think
we’re out of luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
“CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
“Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s
secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and
chortling merrily to itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s
gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is
indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that
far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the
blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime?
Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
veggies and starts pan frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00008.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>25</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>

70
www/spoilers.html
View File

@ -243,6 +243,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
<li><a href="#00024" id="toc-00024">00024</a></li>
<li><a href="#00025" id="toc-00025">00025</a></li>
<li><a href="#00026" id="toc-00026">00026</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -255,7 +256,7 @@ id="toc-acknowledgements">Acknowledgements</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 21552 words / 92 minutes</p>
<p>Total length: 21989 words / 93 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -2631,6 +2632,51 @@ moment, overstayed.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00026">00026</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the
sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky’s tugging and
Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard to his
feet.</p>
<p>With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to Jarrod,
Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having emptied the
plate of corn chips in record time, follows them shortly after.</p>
<p>The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the
occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having fallen
asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky retreats
downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small packet of
kuding leaves beside the bed.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark
corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my club!’”</p>
<p>The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts a
bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs out!” Leaning over the
bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: “I owe a favour to
Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack,
Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.</p>
<p>As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of
hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying,
drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! Let’s be clear. You’ve hired
us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that we’re
dangerous people. There may be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned
something today, and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new
wisdom.”</p>
<p>Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will finish what we
have started. We’re probably the team with the best chances, I’m sure
you’ll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here? Either way,
your decision won’t change our plans. I’m sure you know how to take the
win.”</p>
<p>Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but dismissive,
way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading small quips with his
new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>
@ -2758,10 +2804,28 @@ politics.
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Groll</dt>
<dd>
A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love
magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items
like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of
runes and wands.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="groll.png" alt="groll" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">groll</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Hemogoblin</dt>
<dd>
A little bloody goblinoid, flayed of its flesh and getting blood
absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god, don’t let it touch that! Ew.
A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
don’t let it touch that! Ew.
</dd>
<dd>
Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.