Total length: 85483 words / 365 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +
Total length: 87088 words / 372 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)
-There have been 229 messages posted over 229 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.00.
+There have been 235 messages posted over 231 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.01.
This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.
Jump to: 1 2
WHAT DO YOU DO In the fish market, the dreamers continue to sleep soundly through
+the ringing claxon alarms with nothing but maybe the twitch of a finger
+to indicate that they hear anything at all. During the commotion with Marvelo and Gliftwirp, nobody but Rind
+noticed the thick rusty nail in the side of the candle wiggle its way
+out of the soft wax and clatter onto the plate at the base of the
+candle, the ringing of tin masked by the ringing of the claxon
+alarm. Still the dreamers sleep. Rind watches as the candle burns dangerously low. The mummified hand
+of the Nyxmaer in the base of the candle starts to wriggle, struggle,
+and strain against the softening wax. It stretches and reaches for the
+eye in the center of the candle. Rind continues to soothe the duck and stroke its feathers. The child
+looks at the space where Gliftwirp and the hemogoblin stumbled into the
+circle, smudging the line of salt and ash, breaking the circle and
+severing its continuity. Making a small space for something to get in.
+Or out. “Yo! Little cavatappi dude, where the hell are we?!” Alex’s eyes scan
+the room rapidly. There’s no water, aside from what he dragged in with
+his abrupt departure from the pier. The dark sky stretches into the
+nothingness of the void. Asthe robed figure begins speaks Alex takes
+note of his situation. ‘Nowhere to hide, zero cover. A whole lot of nothing actually. It’s
+one thing after another with this dream thing.’ As the figure finishes his address Alex nods politely. “I’ll be
+honest my guy, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about. Looks
+to me you’ve got the whole sword thing, all I’ve got is my trusty AK. I
+guess back top side, in umm I guess the real world, I did find a wonky
+dagger my uncle tried to hide. But I’m pretty sure that got eaten by a
+cute little hemogoblin while I was busy murdering ghost pirates. Anyways
+more to the point, I’m not quite sure I follow.” Alex pauses briefly and then continues, “You say you need to get out
+of here? Now that part I follow, me the hell too. I just got attacked by
+some freaky sadist mushroom that called itself katsuva. Cut its head
+clean off just so it could try and chuck me in the drink. Right
+unpleasant fella, but I think I lost him when, well, I got here,
+wherever that is.” “Now I don’t know much, but I’m not much for trust after getting
+attacked by a talking mushroom monster. So if you’ll excuse me, I reckon
+the exit is right about that way (Alex jabs his finger over his back
+away from the figure), and I’m inclined to head out unless you know a
+better way.” You weren’t in the kobit caves with the rest of Retrieval Team 43, so
+you didn’t see the reliefs. But every Basmentarian is familiar with the
+iconography of the Trine. This figure is dressed in the traditional
+rainments of Neddas, god of sages and starlight. Furthermore you
+recognize them from your dreams in the Milk Market. Kasutva the small mushroom meeps and hides behind your leg. “You know, we each of us loved you in our own way,” Neddas says. “But
+of the three of us, I alone gave away pieces of my divinity. I wanted to
+see you thrive and grow strong. “You’ve already found several pieces of my essence. Coin in
+the treasure hoard below the earth. Mirth in the shipwreck
+under the sea. And lore in the clouds atop Kelsun Peak. “And of course you found justice,” they say, looking at the
+sword. “This one got a little weird.” The frown. “Became a little
+sentient, didn’t it?” They press the blade of the sword to their chest
+and absorb it into their being. They sigh happily. “You have found enough of my essence that I am able to start to
+materialize again. Not quite in Basmentaria yet. But here, a little
+bit. “There are still two more pieces out there. If you can reunite all
+five crystals, I will be able to cross over into Basmentaria again. “So yes, Alex. You are correct. It is time you head out. Return to
+Basmentaria. Find the remaining crystals, so that I may return and right
+the wrongs of the past. I will do what I can to assist you.” Inky waves back once, twice in greeting, before crossing their
+forefingers twice, touching a hand briefly to their chest, and strolling
+towards the restrooms. Leaning against a wall outside of the rest area, out of sight from
+the main dining hall, Inky pulls out the message from Master Alex and
+reads it. Engagement confirmed, it seems. Also in the envelope is a
+smooth oval grey pebble with the letters “sh” carved onto it. A mini
+dousojin. How considerate of him. Putting the envelope and pebble into a shorts pocket, Inky holds up a
+chewy blood berry biscuit, which they offer to the great horned owl
+patiently perched on their shoulder. “What if we just zip out now and
+have a walk around the towers? Do you think it will cause offence to the
+Grand Master of the realm?” Inky asks her. Fuko looks up from her treat
+and gives them a short series of disapproving clicks of her beak. “He wants more ‘intel’,” Inky says. It isn’t even a question. On another occasion they would be glad to see Master Corraidhn
+animated and well — when there wasn’t a demanding curmudgeon on the
+other end of an absurd fishing expedition. The elder sysorcerer’s
+presence in the Dreaming, illusion or otherwise, has effectively dashed
+any prospect of an early night out. “Thirteen minutes. Only because Scoops likes you.” Inky tells the
+owl. They look down at their shirt with orange horizontal stripes, blue
+knee-length shorts, blue running shoes, and wordlessly declare the
+change of clothes suitable for fine non-dining. The noogle’s drawstring
+pouch is knotted to a metal hoop on a pocket flap to one side of their
+shorts, having let loose a short mop of tousled red hair. A plush floofy
+duck keychain dangles next to the pouch. Emerging from the hallway, the awkward, skinny youth with an owl
+approaches the far corner table. You approach the far corner table, weaving your way through the
+crowded tables of the Harpoon Club. “Inky!” Blavin chorttles merrily as you pull up a chair. The cat
+person nods politely at you and starts rebuilding the block tower. Corraidhín watches the archway behind you as you enter. When nobody
+follows you into the Harpoon Club he frowns, tugs on his beard, and sits
+up straighter in his chair. “You’re alone?” Blavin observes. “No matter. Thank you so much for
+meeting us here! I trust it wasn’t too much trouble? A little bit out of
+the way, I know. But it is so very hard to find a place away from prying
+eyes, isn’t it?” “Get to the point, Blavin.” snaps Corraidhín. “Quite right!” laughs Blavin, taking a sip of his drink. “Listen,” he
+says, suddenly very serious. “It’s time I came clean to you. You deserve
+that much. And besides, I think we can help each other. While it is true
+that I work for the Benefactor, I don’t actually serve their interests.
+You see, I represent another party. A double agent they would
+call me in the spy novels.” He waves his hand dismissively, as though
+somebody were making a fuss over him and he were embarrassed. “As I’m sure you already know, our organization is called the Golden
+Iris. Like the Benefactor, our goal is to collect the Ginnarak Cystals.
+I know you’ve heard all the old stories. Together they could kill a
+god, blah blah blah.” He sloshes his drink as the gestures. “But we
+think they’ve got it all wrong, Inky. That is, they have it
+backwards at least!” Blavin leans in, his eyes shining. “The Golden Iris intends nothing
+less than creating a new god!” “The Trine has been absent for years. We’re going to restore the
+balance. Now you see why the mission is so important, Inky. We need the
+crystals.” “Now I know what you’re going to say! It all sounds too fantastic.
+Yes well, that’s why I brought along somebody whose credibility I know
+you’ll trust!” He beams at Corraidhín. The wizard sighs. “As far as I can tell, the hobbit is telling the
+truth.” Blavin grins as Corraidhín continues. “The Golden Iris is trying to elevate Sitopotnia, the Corn Mother, to
+godhood. Which I admit makes a certain kind of sense. She’s the only
+mortal to have created life after all. Kind of the ideal candidate for
+the job to be honest. They’ve hitched an odd team of mules to their buggy to help them. And
+they’re managing to drag the thing forward despite all pulling in
+slightly different directions. The Cyberplasms want new bodies. The Gnu
+Zealots want to open source the process so everybody can create new
+gods. And I don’t actually know what the BAND wackos want.” Corraidhín shrugs, “I don’t have a particular dog in this fight. The
+Benefactor was able to excise the, ahem, ‘anomaly’ that happened at the
+SS RSS. Including the second crystal, which is currently in his
+possession, and my body, which is still technically back at the
+institute and still under the care of Felixe here.” The black cat gives
+another polite nod. Having completed building the tumbling tower, it is
+now shuffling the tumbrot cards, face down, around on the table. “Felixe is Basmentaria’s preeminent expert in preserving entities
+that happen to exist between two states. Or that happen to exist in two
+states at the same time.. Bah, it’s complicated,” Corraidhín huffs. “Yes!” interrupts Blavin. “Now! Despite working closely with him all
+this time, I am actually none the wiser as to the Benefactor’s actual
+plans for the crystals. I just know we need them more. “Inky, you must retrieve the remaining crystals. And also the one in
+the Benefactor’s possession. And deliver them to us so we may usher in a
+new age for Basmentaria!” Felixe the cat deals the cards out to the center of the table, face
+down, in a cross. Three across, three high. It sets the remainder of the
+deck aside and looks at you expectantly. WHAT DO YOU DO? I don’t know what I’m going to put here, but I didn’t want this
document to just abruptly end. So here you go: a kind farewell and a
diff --git a/www/rss.xml b/www/rss.xml
index 9520c98..640a5a8 100644
--- a/www/rss.xml
+++ b/www/rss.xml
@@ -6,429 +6,894 @@
https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml
One moment, Inky is half-asleep on their feet in the middle
- of Branch Avenue. In the next, they are reclining in a banana
- boat that resembles a canoe painted with long stripes of
- yellow and white with deep brown swipes. The s’more interior
- padding is soft, yet with the suppleness of fruit leather. A
- few round, matching brown mini-cushions are strewn across the
- boat interior. Also in the boat are two silver spoon paddles,
- more for looks than cooks. They don’t know where the boat came from. Things just
- appear. Like that Red Squirrel. Inky moves to holler a
- greeting, but instead recites: Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is
+ definitely strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him
+ with his impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately
+ the same can’t be said for his roguish good looks, as he’s
+ found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he
+ remembers. Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment,
+ and he promptly moves on with assessing the situation. “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are
+ terrible at fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a
+ dreadfully important meeting across town.” turning to address
+ Inky, “We need to make a break for it, what’d the witch tell
+ you? Envision our goal or something? This is really a little
+ outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise..
+ unless..” Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a
+ terminal prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at
+ blinding speed at the digital window, a quick bypass there, a
+ root access escalation there. “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older
+ kernel, about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as
+ needed. Here I’m giving us sudo access, should we need
+ it.” “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns” ~ While Inky boards her banana boat and recites poetry to the
- maddened squirrel, Alex springs to action leaping blithely
- from the branch towards the squirrel. Beneath him manifests a
- cockpit, sleek and futuristic. Around this materializes a
- large robotic weapon, octopus-oid in shape. The many tentacles
- bristle with weapons both fearsome and deadly. Alex grabs the controls, in one tentacle he latches onto
- the banana boat, that way he won’t accidentally get separated
- from Inky. With the other seven a series of feathers appear in
- every brilliant hue. The tentacle attached to the boat unfurls
- allowing Alex to draw closer to the squirrel. As the gap
- closes the most intense tickle fight the dream world has ever
- seen ensues, bringing joyous laughter to the faces of
- many. “Inky, if we need to get out of here, just jet it! That
- tentacle will yank the control pod and me with it!” Alex basically becomes a Mech pilot, and confronts the Red
- Squirrel head on with the Octopod. You engage in the tickle fight to end all tickle
- fights! Its eight arms are more than a match for the squirrels
- eight legs. You have the advantage of reach, entanglement, and
- sucker pads. It struggles in your grasp, gnashing its terrible
- teeth, but cannot reach you. Its long tail whips around
- ineffectively, battering you softly. The agitated squirrel squeals and swells like a red
- balloon. The mech’s tentacles struggle to contain it. Just as
- the strain on the machine is about to become unbearable, the
- rodent violently deflates. It collapses in on itself with such
- ferocity that it turns itself inside out. The octopod, all
- tangled up in the collapsing squirrel, is pulled along as it
- folds in on itself until it becomes a hungry void the size of
- a marble, floating in space and sucking at the air. Inky watches from the banana boat as Alex and the squirrel
- disappear from the Silver Forest. The squirrel portal finally
- closes in on itself, severing the banana boat from the octopus
- mecha at the last possible second. Inky on this side. Alex on
- the other. Alex, you and the wreckage of the octopod are vomited out
- onto a sandy beach. Red mist and vapors dissipate from your
- entry point. Before you is a vast ocean, lapping lazily at the
- beach. The shoreline extends endlessly in both directions.
- Behind you are endless sand dunes. Though there is no sun, the
- sky seems to hover at sunset, all brilliant, swirling oranges
- and purples. A lone humanoid figure can be seen standing atop a nearby
- dune. It is tall. It has legs like a goat or fawn, and a
- paunchy belly. Its long neck protrudes into a kind of trunk
- that eventually folds over and hangs down in front of the
- creature, about chest height. It terminates in a smooth, round
- nub. No face. It wears a small satchel at its hip, its strap
- slung over one shoulder and across its chest. Its long arms
- hand loosely at its sides. Despite the lack of a face and any
- sensory organs, it seems to be watching you. Slowly, it
- descends the dune and starts walking toward you. It reaches
- into its satchel and draws a long, sharp knife as it
- approaches. Inky, you are in the banana boat in the Silver Forest. The
- turtle that was a chipmunk has holed up in its shell,
- effectively just a sticky bun. “You wanted to see me,” intones a slightly muffled voice
- behind you. A statement, not a question. You turn to see a
- figure cloaked in shadows and demons. They wear a domed helmet
- of black obsidian glass, flashes of rainbow colored light
- crackling along the inside illuminating very little of the
- smoke-filled interior. “What is it you seek from Dude 215R?” It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he
+ corrects ‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to
+ the chipmunk instead of to the squirrel. Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It
+ squeals in delight. In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell
+ of what can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns
+ has just vanished. The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts
+ scooping up acorns by the armful and shoving them into its
+ mouth by the dozen. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it
+ says around a mouthful of nuts. “Here…” It tosses you a large
+ square silver coin with a round hole drilled in the center. On
+ one side is the number twenty-one next to a picture of a
+ curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the number
+ five and a picture of a flail. “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all
+ I have,” it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide
+ its nuts. Hopefully somewhere more secure this time. If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the
+ hole, you see the dreamscape before you as though looking
+ through a cloudy film. All the same stuff is there, but it’s
+ hazy and shadowy. Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out
+ of hailing distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes.
+ Dark shadows pool restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the
+ shadows leap up and take the form of demons the like of which
+ words cannot describe, before falling and returning to shadow
+ once more. The figure wears a large spherical helmet of
+ obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of a rainbow
+ of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet
+ like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel
+ sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels
+ a tug, a familiarity. Something about this character is
+ familiar to you, but you cannot place it. When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape
+ both disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted
+ landscape reappears but the figure is gone. You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather
+ intently from the branches below. WHAT DO YOU DO The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface.
- Patterns where patterns shouldn’t be, strange orders from HQ,
- indifference where once was ample aide as well. It was
- maddening. Combine it all with the haunting suspicion that
- there was constantly someone just around the next corner, and
- it was enough to truly drive Alex mad. That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line,
- but Alex wasn’t about to let it get to him. Or so he thought
- to himself as he cast a furtive look at his monitoring
- equipment. This paranoia had served him well in the past, very
- well in fact. It’s a sort of sixth sense in a way, always kept
- Alex off the edge of the cliff, especially when someone
- stepped close enough to push him off. Those were the types of
- skills HQ sought after in the first place. Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his
- monitoring equipment running, dead man’s trigger set to blow
- the place shoul anyone enter it. Can’t be too careful these
- days.. Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows,
- Alex makes his way down an alley, then another, and yet
- another, finally emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market.
- Across the street, as he had expected, was Marvelo’s Marvelous
- MurderSticks, a quaint place should one needed something, well
- you get the picture, they don’t really sell anything but
- weaponry here. Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode
- towards the back rack, where a collection of knives was on
- display. A rough looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning
- hair, moved from the counter as he saw Alex approach. “Fine
- sampling of knives we have, could I interest you in one?”
- Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin stilleto style dagger,
- and hands it to Marvelo “This one seems about right, but I’d
- like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you don’t mind”.
- Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say “Not a problem at all
- sir”, and he heads into the back. He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he
- places it on his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from
- a stack, he deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled
- piece of paper into the bottom, alongside an m1911 style
- pistol, and a couple of clips of ammo. He then places the
- velvet bottom back over the equipment, and places the stilleto
- on top, bringing the entire package back to the front. “An
- extra fine edge on this one sir, that’ll be 15 gold, plus
- another 5 to cover the service. Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back
- alley. Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to
- himself as he disassembles the box holstering the pistol and
- ammo, and sheathing the dagger. Can’t keep going unarmed like
- I’m some kind of beat cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the
- case and unfurls the message, quickly deciphering the
- encryption set on it by Marvelo. Alex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley,
- taking a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping
- back around, and heading back towards it by yet another.
- Nobody appeared to be following him, yet he paused at each
- corner and turn, waiting for the footsteps of a pursuant. Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance
- of Enrique’s Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial.
- “Enrique, where’s Inky? We’ve got a problem.” Alex procures from a pocket of his trenchcoat a tiny vial.
+ On the vial is a small strip of parchment which reads: He empties the vial into a glass of warm milk and hands it
+ to bread. “Drink up friend, this’ll relax and soothe you. You’ll
+ probably have the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had” Over the radio Alex provides a quick reminder to
+ Marvelo. “7, remember, should you need to wake bread to get us out
+ you can interrupt or cancel the sleep script, Ctrl + C should
+ work for the disruption work. Or if you need to you can set
+ sleepy=false, if it gets crazy and you need to modify the
+ metavarbalic properties of the enchantment.” Turning to Inky, “Eight bells and all’s well, lets get this
+ show on the road” Bread smiles and thanks you for the milk. They down the
+ glass, smack their lips a few times, and wipe their mouth with
+ the back of their hand. Their eyelids grow heavy and close,
+ and they slump down on the cushions. They’re already asleep by
+ the time their head hits the pillow. Inky nods once at Alex’s words and finishes off their own
+ cuppa steeped with calea and thyme, and blended into osmanthus
+ matcha. Lucida, Protege, Aware, Perfume. A meaningless
+ mantra. They glance to their owlish accomplice (who, she will
+ remind you, is well-trained and needs no sleeping aid, thank
+ you very much, unlike her impish charge) and silently mouth
+ the words “Dude 215R” with a wink. Then they settle for a nap,
+ chin pillowed on their forearms, which are propped atop
+ drawn-up knees. A walking stick rests on their lap. A herb
+ bouquet of pink blooms becomes an owl cushion. Inky dreamforms of a cream noogle. Puko. And Fuko is, well,
+ still Fuko. You light the Nyxmaer. The flame crackles and dances. It
+ smokes darkly, and the scent it gives off is thick and
+ heady. You breathe deeply of it and settle down to sleep. When you open your eyes you are standing on the branch of
+ an enormous white tree. It’s as wide as a narrow street. Its
+ leaves are silver blades that uncurl in the dappled light from
+ below. One of the first things you notice is that gravity is
+ reversed here. The branches below you reach down, grazing an
+ endless sky. Small iridescent jellyfish medusae drift lazily
+ far, far below, catching and reflecting the light. And the
+ trunk thickens as it reaches up overhead, where its roots
+ drill into the ceiling above. Because of dream logic, you know that in some way this tree
+ represents Kelsun Peak, Bread’s home. And also because of
+ dream logic, you know that the branches furthest away from you
+ in some way represent the great dragon Lucin who lives deep in
+ the mountain. And they are just as dangerous. They sway in the
+ breeze and seem to be aware of you, and are for now satisfied
+ at the distance you keep from them. There is a chipmunk sitting cross-legged before you on the
+ branch. It looks curiously up at you and says, “The Red
+ Squirrel stole my acorns! Are you going to get them back for
+ me?” You can feel a metaphysical tug in your gut as your orient
+ yourself to dreamspace like the needle of a compass. “Inward”
+ you can feel a tug toward Bread’s deep unconscious. To their
+ core memories. “Outward” you can feel a tug away from Bread
+ toward the shores of the Sea of Dreams, where you may continue
+ your journey through the Collective Unconsciousness to the
+ pocket dimension of the Wandering Bazaar. You need not move
+ physically to travel in either direction. It’s more a matter
+ of choosing a destination, and letting the winds blow you in
+ that direction. “My acorns!” insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. “The
+ Red Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help
+ me?” WHAT DO YOU DO (A week prior) The secretary collected the stack of papers that had
+ accumulated at one corner of the desk. “This might help,” she
+ said, setting down a bundle of herbs with white and pink
+ flowers in place of the papers. Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl’s
+ plumage. “Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It’ll help make
+ the stench more bearable when they find the remains.” The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as
+ the words sank in. “That’s not what I meant! It’s for the
+ circle,” she clarified. Seeing the imp’s preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to
+ regain their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice.
+ “Beaker’s associates have picked up the empanada shop
+ proprietor and transported him to an undisclosed location.
+ There will be a retinue with him at all times.” Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room
+ before responding, “Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I
+ do not return by the indicated time, please activate the
+ hitsuzen protocol. As precaution.” The secretary looked at Inky in concern. “Is everything all
+ right? If you’re still troubled by the hotelier, accidents
+ happen. A single incident—” “Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He
+ was probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the
+ other stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after
+ the melon vendor disappeared.” Salvia’s violet eyes narrowed. “What, the fruit vendor?
+ Didn’t the tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get
+ rid of a neighbor’s nest of snakes.” Inky only raised an eyebrow at her. The secretary let out a low curse. “You didn’t tell her.
+ You didn’t want her to worry,” she said aloud in realization.
+ She sighed. “She’s going to be pretty angry with you when she
+ finds out, you know.” Inky offered her a sardonic smile. “Making people angry is
+ my job. You of all people know this well. In the event of my
+ timely demise I’m sure the others would find it cause for a
+ grand celebration.” They replied matter-of-factly before
+ returning to smoothing the feathers of one bird wing. Salvia shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. You’ll
+ make it back, Ink. What then—” “Then our fair Lady’s ire would be the least of the
+ problems.” ~ Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the
- items and exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of
- meeting Bother at the place stipulated on the note. (Half and one hour later) One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky
- runs into Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains
- some of their new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for
- the convenience of late-night tourists. These are subsequently
- hare-mailed to every editor at the Niuewstijl office,
- which is almost certain to earn another chiding remark from
- Tess about etiquette and the handling of unsolicited bulk mail
- to parent editorial teams. (Half and two hours later) The installation on display at the Milk Market was
- grotesque — that is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps
- carefully through the rooms to not disturb the piece.
- Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set up on an upturned milk
- crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows of horse head and
- thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled “you can’t ed
- the unedible”. (Half and three hours earlier) Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of
- paper on which were written a few questions about the
- prescribed ritual, with some space after each question should
- the witch prefer to scribble a response: Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He’d received
+ word of agent 5’s demise that morning, and had been the only
+ thing on his mind since. 5, no Be’tram knew the risks, we all
+ knew the risks defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly?
+ He’d snuck down to the wharf once he’d heard, making sure to
+ cover his tracks and dodge any potential witnesses. He even
+ managed to slip past the police cordon they’d setup around the
+ body. What he’d found wasn’t pretty, it looked like Be’Tram
+ had suffered in his final moments. The bruising around his
+ neck pointed to strangulation, with some sort of cloth,
+ perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there wasn’t a cut,
+ burn, shot or something of the likes on his otherwise. The kill had been intimate. Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be’Tram’s eye
+ had been hard, but he’d of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his
+ right eye was a recording device, it could only catch the last
+ 15m or so of what he had seen, but it would give him a clear
+ look at what had happened. And potentially lead Alex to the
+ killer. Miserable business, but Be’Tram knew it could make a
+ difference. Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted
+ the eye, and made his way well away from the area before it
+ went off obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an
+ old friend, but it was too dangerous to leave. And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little
+ purple red critical for the sewer hideout. He’d had time to
+ send out a drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was
+ reassuring. Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks
+ upon racks of servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The
+ effectively of the destruction was delightful, in a sick sort
+ of desperate way. Alex felt assured that most if not all of
+ the equipment was useless, but this spelled the end of a
+ valuable listening outpost. And whoever had done it wasn’t
+ part of the slag pile. Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his
+ burbled in quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the
+ Melon vendor’s death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but
+ none of them held true; some said the city had become
+ dangerous, a crime syndicate had arisen in the neighboring
+ city block another thought, and did you hear about the
+ explosion at the wharf the other night, the city was electric,
+ yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the issue. As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses
+ strode past the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling
+ the note from beneath the coffee cup, left for her. For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled
+ carelessly on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf.
+ But for Agent 3 it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s
+ demise recovered from his eyecam, one part orders; stay low
+ and we’ll strike these bastards from the shadows, on our
+ terms, on our ground. Similar missives were delivered to
+ Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were dwindling rapidly, even
+ just one agent lost was hard to stomach. Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a
+ white knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into
+ the city. Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to
+ Be’Tram, it had better know he was coming, and he’d happily
+ send it straight to hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned,
+ this little game of cat and mouse had just gotten
+ personal. ~ Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves
+ in a dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish
+ processing plant on the wharf. The accommodations are rough,
+ and the stench is abhorrent, but it’s the best that could be
+ procured in a pinch. And it should provide enough
+ seclusion. The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near
+ the ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way
+ along the side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights,
+ before it reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a
+ single steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the
+ fish processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand
+ still, covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You’re glad
+ to know that the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene
+ is lacking in every sense. Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is
+ a grey overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn’t like
+ what him and Inky were about to do, but they didn’t have much
+ they could do about it. They would be vulnerable for the
+ duration of the ritual. But Agent 7 and Confidence were there
+ to help mitigate that risk. Alex and Agent 7 had taken every
+ precaution they could think of. The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires,
+ and alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones
+ around the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to
+ Agent 7 for recon. And that was on top of the double barred
+ steel doors, and reinforced glass box they’d chosen as their
+ hide out. Meticulously planned, Alex expected no less from
+ Agent 7. See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then
+ some. He was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense
+ that came from years of close calls. He was, simply put, the
+ right man for the job, when that job was keeping your
+ unconscious ass alive. Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky.
+ “Apologies for the smell, it turns out there’s a strong
+ correlation between disgust and seclusion, but I believe we
+ should at least be safe here. Safer than we would have been
+ back home. I’m ready if you are, as ready as I’ll ever be that
+ is.” The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon
+ Club this evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found
+ on this plane of existence. It won’t appear until a week and a
+ half from now, on the last day of the month. Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the
+ Wandering Bazaar will be on that day. With a small bucket of
+ red paint and a large brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on
+ the ground at the location. He sits nearby, making sure
+ careless passersby and mischievous kids don’t disturb it, but
+ otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies of the bustle
+ of shopping and commerce. At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps
+ vigilant watch, alert to every movement and disturbance. And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in
+ the office in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a
+ dark circle that has been smudged on the floor with a paste
+ made of ash and salt. Painted on the ground is a second
+ Linking Sigil, connecting this spot to Confidence’s, allowing
+ the energies of the two locations to co-mingle. There is also
+ the Dream Sigil, which will connect this place to the
+ Dreaming. Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions
+ in the center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle
+ is alleged to be made of the flesh and fat of a certain
+ nightmare. Its hand and eye bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil
+ is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the key. The catalyst that
+ will cause all of the otherwise inert metaphysical particles
+ to become volatile and reactive. It is what will allow you to
+ actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the Sea of
+ Dreams. Per the shop witch’s instructions, the Nyxmaer has been
+ placed on a thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax
+ will soften and eventually allow the large metal nail in its
+ side to fall. When it strikes the plate, you will awaken,
+ exiting the Dreaming. You expect hours may pass in the realm
+ of sleep. But only about thirty minutes will pass here. Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter,
+ facing Bread in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky’s
+ side. It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical
+ candles set around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady
+ rain beats on the roof and the windows of the building. The
+ smell of fish is faint but ever-present. A constant reminder
+ of the small creatures that have left their bodies in a
+ fashion far more permanent and irreversible than the
+ separation of spirit and body you are about to experience. You
+ hope. WHAT DO YOU DO What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
- typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
- correct pocket dimension? An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
- evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
- to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
- seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
- time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
- establishment while it is open? Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
- ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them? Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
- sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake
- up? How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in
+ Bread? What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the
+ Dreaming? What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being
+ exposed in the dreamland, the realm of metaphor? (Half and four hours later) Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin.
- One accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation,
- following the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white
- pockets of fat as they tumble into a hot pan and almost
- immediately begin to move of their own accord. The moving
- mounds resemble small round mouths opening, each with a rim of
- sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes belongs to a grinning face
- that beams when the mounds bloom into bright red flat caps,
- the edges beneath about to soften in the olive oil. Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate
- of tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes
- with a murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the
- tinned spicy artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process —
- someone had ripped out the pages from an old pickling book
- that had long ceased publication. Eventually Inky found a
- former nomad who had eaten them for two years in their youth
- and could recall or somewhat describe the taste. Flowery and
- savoury, they said. Many taste tests later, it turned out to
- be closer to partially decomposed cheese in ponderosa lemon
- juice. Canning was fortuitously easier with the increasing
- portability of sealers. Rather than telling the empanada chef
- any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread across
- his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining. (Half and five hours later) While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea
- infusion since the start of the missions, not that Inky was
- keeping a close count, they hear a familiar voice a short
- distance outside the door asking for their whereabouts.
- Without pausing in their whisking, Inky simply informs the
- owner of the voice they’re not here, obviously, before
- emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot and bowls on
- a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer. Agate writes back quickly: What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
- typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
- correct pocket dimension? Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams. An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
- evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
- to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
- seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
- time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
- establishment while it is open? You’ll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside.
- You’ll likely arrive exactly when you’re meant to. No need to
- worry too much about it. Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
- ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them? Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream
- Sigil, respectively. It’s not terrible if they show
- up. But it’s definitely not ideal. You shouldn’t register on
- their radar as long as you don’t pump too much energy into, or
- siphon to much energy out of, the sigils. If they do show up,
- just know that you’re in the presence of a godlike power, and
- behave accordingly. Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
- sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up? If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken,
- you’ll likely just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for
- if your dreamform is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only
- real danger you may encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk.
- They will attempt to permanently sever your dreamform from
- your waking body. Which would leave your body a soulless husk,
- and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But
- that probably won’t happen! Okay good luck, have fun! WHAT DO YOU DO In the fish market, the dreamers continue to sleep soundly
+ through the ringing claxon alarms with nothing but maybe the
+ twitch of a finger to indicate that they hear anything at
+ all. During the commotion with Marvelo and Gliftwirp, nobody but
+ Rind noticed the thick rusty nail in the side of the candle
+ wiggle its way out of the soft wax and clatter onto the plate
+ at the base of the candle, the ringing of tin masked by the
+ ringing of the claxon alarm. Still the dreamers sleep. Rind watches as the candle burns dangerously low. The
+ mummified hand of the Nyxmaer in the base of the candle starts
+ to wriggle, struggle, and strain against the softening wax. It
+ stretches and reaches for the eye in the center of the
+ candle. Rind continues to soothe the duck and stroke its feathers.
+ The child looks at the space where Gliftwirp and the
+ hemogoblin stumbled into the circle, smudging the line of salt
+ and ash, breaking the circle and severing its continuity.
+ Making a small space for something to get in. Or out. “Greetings, Great One.” Inky bows, back parallel to the
- ground while they stand on the branch, now a humanoid child in
- a black uniform and matching bookbag hanging under one arm.
- The banana boat is nowhere in sight. Fuko follows her errant
- charge and the cloaked figure from a nearby branch. “This lowly one wonders if they may be permitted to seek
- the Great Spirit’s insight, whose wisdom endures before and
- beyond.” Inky begins, staring down the blurry reflection of
- silver boughs overhead on the polished toes of their black
- shoes. They notice idly they do not see themselves in the
- reflection. Straightening from the bow, they look up at the figure and
- hold out a plate of taiyaki. After a moment, the child asks
- haltingly, “There may come a day when this one will be asked
- to choose between the chance to protect many and that which
- they desire to protect most. Should this one choose equally?
- Will the choice matter if both paths eventually lead to
- destruction? Could destruction and salvation be two sides of
- the same coin?” “Yo! Little cavatappi dude, where the hell are we?!” Alex’s
+ eyes scan the room rapidly. There’s no water, aside from what
+ he dragged in with his abrupt departure from the pier. The
+ dark sky stretches into the nothingness of the void. Asthe
+ robed figure begins speaks Alex takes note of his
+ situation. ‘Nowhere to hide, zero cover. A whole lot of nothing
+ actually. It’s one thing after another with this dream
+ thing.’ As the figure finishes his address Alex nods politely.
+ “I’ll be honest my guy, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re
+ talking about. Looks to me you’ve got the whole sword thing,
+ all I’ve got is my trusty AK. I guess back top side, in umm I
+ guess the real world, I did find a wonky dagger my uncle tried
+ to hide. But I’m pretty sure that got eaten by a cute little
+ hemogoblin while I was busy murdering ghost pirates. Anyways
+ more to the point, I’m not quite sure I follow.” Alex pauses briefly and then continues, “You say you need
+ to get out of here? Now that part I follow, me the hell too. I
+ just got attacked by some freaky sadist mushroom that called
+ itself katsuva. Cut its head clean off just so it could try
+ and chuck me in the drink. Right unpleasant fella, but I think
+ I lost him when, well, I got here, wherever that is.” “Now I don’t know much, but I’m not much for trust after
+ getting attacked by a talking mushroom monster. So if you’ll
+ excuse me, I reckon the exit is right about that way (Alex
+ jabs his finger over his back away from the figure), and I’m
+ inclined to head out unless you know a better way.” You and the Dude are sitting in small upholstered chairs,
- across a small half table from each other. There is a large
- sticky bun on a white lacy doily on the table. Next to you is
- a small portal-sized window, and outside you can see green
- rolling hills and small copses of trees fly by. The other
- seats on the small train car are all empty. The two of you are
- alone. “I cannot give you advice,” the Dude says. “But I can offer
- you experience.” They raise a hand and hold a loosely closed fist out over
- the table. The walls of the train become fuzzy and blurry,
- then translucent, and finally transparent. They disappear and
- you have the sensation of rocketing through space at dizzying
- speeds. The track splits ahead you. To one side, bound to one track
- is that which you desire to protect most. Bound to the other
- are the many. “You can choose safely here. It’s just a dream, after all.”
- The Dude opens their fist. The Twenty-one Fiver coin rests in
- their palm. “Heads, you steer the train into the many, sparing
- that which you love most. Tails, the opposite. You spare the
- many, and sacrifice that which you hold dear.” They hold the
- coin out to you. The train barrels toward the fork. “But choose quickly,
- lest the choice be made for you.” You weren’t in the kobit caves with the rest of Retrieval
+ Team 43, so you didn’t see the reliefs. But every Basmentarian
+ is familiar with the iconography of the Trine. This figure is
+ dressed in the traditional rainments of Neddas, god of sages
+ and starlight. Furthermore you recognize them from your dreams
+ in the Milk Market. Kasutva the small mushroom meeps and hides behind your
+ leg. “You know, we each of us loved you in our own way,” Neddas
+ says. “But of the three of us, I alone gave away pieces of my
+ divinity. I wanted to see you thrive and grow strong. “You’ve already found several pieces of my essence.
+ Coin in the treasure hoard below the earth.
+ Mirth in the shipwreck under the sea. And
+ lore in the clouds atop Kelsun Peak. “And of course you found justice,” they say,
+ looking at the sword. “This one got a little weird.” The
+ frown. “Became a little sentient, didn’t it?” They press the
+ blade of the sword to their chest and absorb it into their
+ being. They sigh happily. “You have found enough of my essence that I am able to
+ start to materialize again. Not quite in Basmentaria yet. But
+ here, a little bit. “There are still two more pieces out there. If you can
+ reunite all five crystals, I will be able to cross over into
+ Basmentaria again. “So yes, Alex. You are correct. It is time you head out.
+ Return to Basmentaria. Find the remaining crystals, so that I
+ may return and right the wrongs of the past. I will do what I
+ can to assist you.” Alex scrambles from the wreckage of his mech, or what
- remained from the gore portal he’d just experienced. The
- thought of what had occurred made him grimace, which was an
- unusual state of affairs for an octopus, that is until Alex
- realized he seemed to be back in his own body. “Sunset, or perhaps rise? It’s hard to tell. Pretty
- though.. could be prettier without the creepy knife dude.”
- Alex mutters to himself while he rummages through the
- destroyed cockpit of the mech. He makes quick work, detaches a
- side panel, pulls a couple of wires, and a compartment in the
- back opens revealing the smooth dark blue metal and wood grain
- of an ak74u sub machine gun. Amused Alex pulls the weapon from
- the compartment and notices a distinct lack of additional
- magazines, just the one large drum attached to the weapon with
- large red letters emblazoned on it [INFINITE AMMO].
- “Neat.” Alex pulls himself from the wreck, and jumps down behind
- one of the fallen tentacles taking a firing position behind
- cover, ak74u aimed down range at the faceless figure. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t trust anyone who
- approaches with a weapon. Let’s both stand down and talk this
- through! I’m not supposed to be here, and I reckon you don’t
- want me here either. I’d be happy to oblige and skidaddle if
- you’d be so kind as to point the way out!” Alex pauses waiting
- for a reply. Inky waves back once, twice in greeting, before crossing
+ their forefingers twice, touching a hand briefly to their
+ chest, and strolling towards the restrooms. Leaning against a wall outside of the rest area, out of
+ sight from the main dining hall, Inky pulls out the message
+ from Master Alex and reads it. Engagement confirmed, it seems.
+ Also in the envelope is a smooth oval grey pebble with the
+ letters “sh” carved onto it. A mini dousojin. How considerate
+ of him. Putting the envelope and pebble into a shorts pocket, Inky
+ holds up a chewy blood berry biscuit, which they offer to the
+ great horned owl patiently perched on their shoulder. “What if
+ we just zip out now and have a walk around the towers? Do you
+ think it will cause offence to the Grand Master of the realm?”
+ Inky asks her. Fuko looks up from her treat and gives them a
+ short series of disapproving clicks of her beak. “He wants more ‘intel’,” Inky says. It isn’t even a
+ question. On another occasion they would be glad to see Master
+ Corraidhn animated and well — when there wasn’t a demanding
+ curmudgeon on the other end of an absurd fishing expedition.
+ The elder sysorcerer’s presence in the Dreaming, illusion or
+ otherwise, has effectively dashed any prospect of an early
+ night out. “Thirteen minutes. Only because Scoops likes you.” Inky
+ tells the owl. They look down at their shirt with orange horizontal
+ stripes, blue knee-length shorts, blue running shoes, and
+ wordlessly declare the change of clothes suitable for fine
+ non-dining. The noogle’s drawstring pouch is knotted to a
+ metal hoop on a pocket flap to one side of their shorts,
+ having let loose a short mop of tousled red hair. A plush
+ floofy duck keychain dangles next to the pouch. Emerging from the hallway, the awkward, skinny youth with
+ an owl approaches the far corner table. The tall figure halts a short distance away. It raises a
- hand and waves. In greeting? Surrender? In a fluid motion it
- continues to lift the same hand and grabs a hold of its trunk,
- a little less than a foot from the tip. It squeezes its fist
- tightly and the tip begins to swell. It raises its other hand,
- and the knife, and starts to saw into the flesh of the trunk
- behind its fist. The blade cuts cleanly as though through a
- loaf of bread. There is no blood or gore. When the creature lowers its hand, you can see that the
- center of the trunk is a solid, bright pink fleshy material
- like a grapefruit, in the center of which are two pin-prick
- eyes and a wide thin gash of a mouth. It still holds the tip of its severed trunk in its hand, a
- thin stalk and a bulging cap looking for all the world like a
- large white button mushroom. Peering up from the stem of the
- mushroom, an identical pink face regards you stoically. Both faces speak at the exact same time, one high pitched
- and one a deep baritone. “Welcome, Dreamer, to Ousia, the Sea
- of Dreams. We are Kasutva.” Big Kasutva stoops down to set the small mushroom Kasutva
- down on the ground. If they’re both Kasutva, that is. If
- that’s the way their biology and sense of self actually works.
- Mushroom Kasutva wobbles side to side a little bit and waggles
- its stalk as it looks around. Big Kasutva places its knife
- back in its satchel and takes a few small steps closer to
- you. “We did not mean to offend you,” the two say, still
- perfectly in sync. “As for the way out, that depends only
- somewhat on your destination. Whatever the answer, we can
- assure you that it lies across the sea.” Large Kasutva
- gestures broadly toward the expanse of ocean. Small Kasutva
- lacks any limbs and cannot gesture, but smiles softly at
- you. “But tell us what it is you seek. Perhaps we can be of
- help.” You approach the far corner table, weaving your way through
+ the crowded tables of the Harpoon Club. “Inky!” Blavin chorttles merrily as you pull up a chair.
+ The cat person nods politely at you and starts rebuilding the
+ block tower. Corraidhín watches the archway behind you as you enter.
+ When nobody follows you into the Harpoon Club he frowns, tugs
+ on his beard, and sits up straighter in his chair. “You’re alone?” Blavin observes. “No matter. Thank you so
+ much for meeting us here! I trust it wasn’t too much trouble?
+ A little bit out of the way, I know. But it is so very hard to
+ find a place away from prying eyes, isn’t it?” “Get to the point, Blavin.” snaps Corraidhín. “Quite right!” laughs Blavin, taking a sip of his drink.
+ “Listen,” he says, suddenly very serious. “It’s time I came
+ clean to you. You deserve that much. And besides, I think we
+ can help each other. While it is true that I work for the
+ Benefactor, I don’t actually serve their interests. You see, I
+ represent another party. A double agent they would
+ call me in the spy novels.” He waves his hand dismissively, as
+ though somebody were making a fuss over him and he were
+ embarrassed. “As I’m sure you already know, our organization is called
+ the Golden Iris. Like the Benefactor, our goal is to collect
+ the Ginnarak Cystals. I know you’ve heard all the old stories.
+ Together they could kill a god, blah blah blah.” He
+ sloshes his drink as the gestures. “But we think they’ve got
+ it all wrong, Inky. That is, they have it backwards
+ at least!” Blavin leans in, his eyes shining. “The Golden Iris intends
+ nothing less than creating a new god!” “The Trine has been absent for years. We’re going to
+ restore the balance. Now you see why the mission is so
+ important, Inky. We need the crystals.” “Now I know what you’re going to say! It all sounds too
+ fantastic. Yes well, that’s why I brought along somebody whose
+ credibility I know you’ll trust!” He beams at Corraidhín. The wizard sighs. “As far as I can tell, the hobbit is
+ telling the truth.” Blavin grins as Corraidhín continues. “The Golden Iris is trying to elevate Sitopotnia, the Corn
+ Mother, to godhood. Which I admit makes a certain kind of
+ sense. She’s the only mortal to have created life after all.
+ Kind of the ideal candidate for the job to be honest. They’ve hitched an odd team of mules to their buggy to help
+ them. And they’re managing to drag the thing forward despite
+ all pulling in slightly different directions. The Cyberplasms
+ want new bodies. The Gnu Zealots want to open source the
+ process so everybody can create new gods. And I don’t actually
+ know what the BAND wackos want.” Corraidhín shrugs, “I don’t have a particular dog in this
+ fight. The Benefactor was able to excise the, ahem, ‘anomaly’
+ that happened at the SS RSS. Including the second crystal,
+ which is currently in his possession, and my body, which is
+ still technically back at the institute and still under the
+ care of Felixe here.” The black cat gives another polite nod.
+ Having completed building the tumbling tower, it is now
+ shuffling the tumbrot cards, face down, around on the
+ table. “Felixe is Basmentaria’s preeminent expert in preserving
+ entities that happen to exist between two states. Or that
+ happen to exist in two states at the same time.. Bah, it’s
+ complicated,” Corraidhín huffs. “Yes!” interrupts Blavin. “Now! Despite working closely
+ with him all this time, I am actually none the wiser as to the
+ Benefactor’s actual plans for the crystals. I just know we
+ need them more. “Inky, you must retrieve the remaining crystals. And also
+ the one in the Benefactor’s possession. And deliver them to us
+ so we may usher in a new age for Basmentaria!” Felixe the cat deals the cards out to the center of the
+ table, face down, in a cross. Three across, three high. It
+ sets the remainder of the deck aside and looks at you
+ expectantly. WHAT DO YOU DO? Once back in the Milk Bar, with the airship safely anchored
+ to the roof of the building, Alex finds himself amongst the
+ old belongings of his former uncle. sigh “Best get a request to HQ for this airship,
+ maybe they’ll let us operate it for a bit, if not I suppose we
+ have to impound it..” “There’s also the matter of this little hemogoblin..” Alex
+ mutters to himself while said hemogoblin happily dances around
+ the room, dripping little pools of blood hither and
+ tither. “Hey little guy, lets go get an empanade. Inky says they’re
+ divine.” Alex says as he scoops up the little goblin and
+ gently carries him downstairs.” Striding into Enriques kitchen, and availing himself to the
+ empanadas, ignoring an indignant Enrique’s protests that these
+ were for paying customers until a small bag of coins is tossed
+ careless over one shoulder. Alex stride through the kitchen
+ and then out and away into the garden to enjoy their pilfered
+ treats. “I suppose this is more interesting than being on the force
+ at times” ~ Inky stepped into the toques’ cabin below deck with a tray
+ of turmeric ginger tea and lavender biscuits. After checking
+ on Bread’s bandages and offering the toque reclined on the
+ berth the last bag of mango croutons — or at least the last
+ one for the next two hours — Inky perched on a wooden barrel
+ across from where Confidence sat on a creaking old chair next
+ to the bunk and spoke. “We’ll be landing in about an hour and
+ getting Bread to a medical facility. You can stay with him
+ while he heals and rest up.” They paused to take a long sip from their cup, as if the
+ liquid was being used to summon their next words. “On behalf
+ of myself and the party, I apologise for the … disruption, and
+ for what had befallen the hotelier. As you may have already
+ noticed, we’re a fair distance away from the Peak and will be
+ arriving in Vay’Nullar soon. This airship was taken over from
+ the cyberplasms in the course of getting the crystal out and
+ the injured to a safe location, and her new captain could
+ hardly fly it back straight into the pirates’ hands now. What we propose is this: you and Bread may take as long as
+ you need to recover. We can arrange for lodgings and new posts
+ in the city. One of our party runs a Milk Market that could
+ certainly use some hired help, and a garden in the back that
+ would benefit from more attention. Pay will be double your
+ current salary at the hotel. Master Alex may also recruit you
+ for other tasks. You don’t need to have an answer just yet —
+ think on it for a bit while you rest and let us know.
+ Afterwards, if you find that you still wish to return to
+ Kelsun Peak, we will pay for travel.” Inky winked at Bread conspiratorially. “You may be
+ interested to know there is a bakery on the Milk Market’s
+ first floor. If you like the look of the place, perhaps we can
+ convince the chef to take on an assistant.” ~ Tess watched her adviser from her position on one end of
+ the plush chaise lounge in her office, who returned her stare
+ impassively as they sat in the adjoining armchair to her
+ right. The ornate coffee table before them had been laid out
+ for tea, but the other cup remained untouched, which was in
+ itself unusual. Ink rarely turned down tea when it was
+ offered, which likely meant they were preoccupied with
+ something they were unwilling to discuss. This had been
+ happening more frequently since their plans to intercept the
+ Ginnarak Crystals, which was a little concerning, but she knew
+ it would be no use to question them directly. The missive she
+ had received this time through Piskin’s people was brief,
+ almost annoyingly so, but they had returned earlier than
+ expected with the articles that production had requested,
+ which had fortunately made up for lost time from the previous
+ delays. With this in mind, she settled on a lighter note as she
+ picked up her own teacup. “Salvia passed on the items to the
+ production team. Thank you for picking them up from the
+ Runesocesius. I would send my regular couriers but they are
+ tied up with another event. One of them had to care for their
+ sick child and couldn’t leave the city. As usual, time and
+ discretion are of the essence.” When her adviser only nodded, she continued. “How is he? He
+ probably insisted on bringing the manuscripts out for you
+ himself. The man is cautious with valuables.” “Quite dead but managing, or so I heard.” Ink intoned
+ drily. Tess caught on immediately. “Didn’t you meet with him? The
+ message only mentioned the items had been obtained. Did
+ something happen?” The imp shrugged. “We met, I delivered the letter and
+ collected the items. We didn’t get a chance to talk.” The hotel was slowly but steadily attracting visitors
+ again, especially after their last play had prominently
+ featured the Runesocesius Library as a research partner in the
+ programme credits, but Tess didn’t think the hotelier was so
+ busy as to entrust this task to one of his underlings. The man
+ was proud of the first editions the library had amassed, and
+ the notebooks of Lucidieau that the playwright sought as a
+ reference were no doubt counted among the treasures, even if
+ only an expensive commissioned facsimile was permitted out of
+ the library. Something had happened, she was sure, but decided
+ not to press further for the moment. “And the other matter?” she asked. “Someone already knew the crystal was at the hotel and
+ retained a crew of cyberplasmic pirates to storm the place.”
+ Ink replied flatly. “And yes, your acquaintance is very much
+ dead, shot by the crew leader in the scuffle. As the rumour
+ rags have it, his ghost is now overseeing the building
+ repairs.” Tess was about to admonish the imp gently for the tasteless
+ jest when there was a knock at the door. At her response, the
+ door opened and her secretary entered with a box of pastries
+ and two sets of tableware, which she placed on the coffee
+ table before leaving and closing the door behind her. Noticing Ink’s look of recognition, Tess smiled and
+ ventured, “This is the second time is as many months you
+ awarded that empanada place a glowing review in The Tiny
+ Toaster. I can count the ratings higher than a 10 you’ve
+ ever given on one hand — of course I had to try it. Why don’t
+ you have some as well?” Ink blinked. “I didn’t write the latest review.” Tess shot them an accusing mock-glare as she lifted a puffy
+ golden brown pastry onto a plate. “It has your inkprints all
+ over it.” “I don’t know what you mean. Surely I’m allowed to treat a
+ colleague to lunch, and they are free to express their
+ satisfaction with a meal openly if they wish,” Ink replied
+ smoothly. Tess rolled her eyes. “There’s a name for that. It’s called
+ bribery.” Ink smiled faintly. “Just so. However, the selection speaks
+ for itself.” “Oh, absolutely! These mini ambrose apple empanadas are
+ wonderful. In fact,” Tess prodded the open end of the pastry
+ with her fork, where a light yellow filling was visible, “they
+ remind me a little of the very crispy tortelli
+ someone made several years ago just for the opening
+ reception of The Two Genteelkin of Virdantha.” “Any resemblance is coincidental. The chef is very
+ capable.” Ink said evenly. Tess sighed and returned her plate to the table. “We’ve
+ talked about this before, Ink. You don’t have to hole up in
+ some poor scrub’s excuse for a kitchen in a closet. If you
+ need more room downstairs then expand it. Just tell Salvia and
+ she’ll take care of it.” Ink lowered their gaze to the teacups. “I appreciate the
+ offer, but the answer is the same. There will be no rest until
+ the crystals are secured.” Some time passes. The hemogoblin turns out to be a fine housemate and less of
+ a problem than you thought it would be. Be it because its not
+ in the excitement of battle onboard a pirate ship, or be it
+ because it is maturing slightly, it seems in better control of
+ its blood sacs. Barring a few small accidents, it doesn’t make
+ much of a mess. It has found and claimed as its own a few
+ unused blankets, and has made a little burrow nest in an out
+ of the way corner behind the furniture. Bread makes a full recovery and in fact is doing better
+ than ever before. The blood goblin stays by their side during
+ the first hours and days and keeps them pumped full of clean,
+ synthetic blood. Afterwards the toque is flushed a healthy
+ pink and has new vigor. Enrique takes them under his tutelage.
+ And Bread ends up making a fine baker’s apprentice. Dough
+ seems to rise more and quicker after he kneads it. “The lad
+ has solar hands,” Enrique boasts of his new protegee. Confidence becomes enthralled with the semi-sentient
+ Wandering Bazaar. The thirteen story building moves with
+ glacial speed up and down the streets, vendors and stalls and
+ shoppers following in its wake. But then also it will
+ disappear in the blink of an eye only to reappear in a totally
+ different part of the area known as the Wandering Bazaar
+ District. Each floor of the tall, narrow tower is occupied
+ entirely by a single shop. But which shop it is seems to vary
+ from day to day. One day the seventh level will be occupied by
+ Fedik’s Butcher shop. And the next, Lario’s Bakery. It might
+ be days or weeks before one can once again buy hotlinks from
+ Fedik’s. Where the shops go when they’re not here is one of
+ Basmentaria’s great mysteries. The toque studies the Bazaar’s movements and are able to
+ predict its route with more and more accuracy. They become a
+ highly sought out guide. Tourists and visitors trust them to
+ take them to the very spot the Bazaar will appear that day.
+ Residents appreciate the heads up and not getting trapped in
+ their houses when the Bazaar wedges its way into their narrow
+ residential streets, blocking their front doors. And owners of
+ traditional, less ambulatory shops are able to plan ahead for
+ the crowds that will appear on “Bazaar Day”. ~ Members of the Retrieval Team who sleep in Milk Market HQ
+ start having dreams of the same mysterious figure. Of course
+ at first nobody knows their dreams are shared by the others.
+ Not until they become more frequent, more regular. By the time
+ the figure has visited you every night for nearly a week,
+ somebody speaks up and you realize the coincidence. The figure is clad in voluminous robes of deep purple.
+ Long, straight, blonde hair falls around their shoulders.
+ Their soft features are boyish and womanly. They wear a golden
+ circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their
+ forehead. Their passive, neutral face betrays no emotion the
+ entire time. The dream is always the same. They reach out to you with
+ one hand and turn their palm up. And because of dream logic,
+ in the palm of their hand you can hear the jingling of coins,
+ mirthful laughter, and hushed stories told around a campfire.
+ They curl their fingers into a loose first and the sounds
+ stop. They spread their arms wide and in the folds of their
+ robes you can see three siblings fighting, squabbling over a
+ broken loom. Then you’re standing next to them, and the two of you watch
+ three friends, Snake, Owl, and Dolphin. Owl tells Snake that
+ he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t want to be an
+ owl any more, he wants to be flowers. And Snake laughs and
+ tells him that he is Owl, and an owl he must remain. And she
+ leaves him to go eat rodents and bake in the sun. So Owl tells
+ Dolphin that he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t
+ want to be an owl any more, he wants to be flowers. Dolphin
+ doesn’t want to help Owl, because if he is flowers, they won’t
+ be able to be together any longer. But Dolphin finally agrees
+ to help even though they don’t want to, because Dolphin loves
+ Owl. With all their strength, they create a great waterspout
+ that will turn Owl into flowers. But the waterspout is too
+ strong, and Dolphin is too weak to control it. It sprays Owl
+ but does not turn him into flowers. Owl’s wing is broken and
+ he falls to the ground in a heap of feathers. The waterspout
+ shakes a great boulder from the earth and traps Snake under
+ it. And Dolphin sinks to the bottom of the sea. And then you wake up. ~ Later you find a letter in the common area of Milk Market
+ HQ. It is not addressed to anybody. When you open it up, it
+ reads: Time is running out, Retrieval Team 43. Things are starting
+ to draw to a close. We cannot delay our meeting any longer if
+ we both are to achieve our goals. We have information that you
+ are looking for. Meet us at the Harpoon Club next Selday. We
+ will wear the sign. The letter is signed with a white iris and golden
+ apple. Anyone in Vay’Nullar would be able to tell you that the
+ Harpoon Club is a game room and fine dining club, and one of
+ the rotating tenants of the Wandering Bazaar. But Confidence
+ would tell you, were you to ask them, that the club won’t be
+ there next Selday. (When the Bazaar will appear at East and
+ Lowland.) It is in fact not scheduled to appear until a week
+ and a half after next Selday, on Third Tensday. (When the
+ Bazaar will appear at Cathedral and Pine.) WHAT DO YOU DO “Greetings, Great One.” Inky bows, back parallel to the
+ ground while they stand on the branch, now a humanoid child in
+ a black uniform and matching bookbag hanging under one arm.
+ The banana boat is nowhere in sight. Fuko follows her errant
+ charge and the cloaked figure from a nearby branch. “This lowly one wonders if they may be permitted to seek
+ the Great Spirit’s insight, whose wisdom endures before and
+ beyond.” Inky begins, staring down the blurry reflection of
+ silver boughs overhead on the polished toes of their black
+ shoes. They notice idly they do not see themselves in the
+ reflection. Straightening from the bow, they look up at the figure and
+ hold out a plate of taiyaki. After a moment, the child asks
+ haltingly, “There may come a day when this one will be asked
+ to choose between the chance to protect many and that which
+ they desire to protect most. Should this one choose equally?
+ Will the choice matter if both paths eventually lead to
+ destruction? Could destruction and salvation be two sides of
+ the same coin?” You and the Dude are sitting in small upholstered chairs,
+ across a small half table from each other. There is a large
+ sticky bun on a white lacy doily on the table. Next to you is
+ a small portal-sized window, and outside you can see green
+ rolling hills and small copses of trees fly by. The other
+ seats on the small train car are all empty. The two of you are
+ alone. “I cannot give you advice,” the Dude says. “But I can offer
+ you experience.” They raise a hand and hold a loosely closed fist out over
+ the table. The walls of the train become fuzzy and blurry,
+ then translucent, and finally transparent. They disappear and
+ you have the sensation of rocketing through space at dizzying
+ speeds. The track splits ahead you. To one side, bound to one track
+ is that which you desire to protect most. Bound to the other
+ are the many. “You can choose safely here. It’s just a dream, after all.”
+ The Dude opens their fist. The Twenty-one Fiver coin rests in
+ their palm. “Heads, you steer the train into the many, sparing
+ that which you love most. Tails, the opposite. You spare the
+ many, and sacrifice that which you hold dear.” They hold the
+ coin out to you. The train barrels toward the fork. “But choose quickly,
+ lest the choice be made for you.” Alex scrambles from the wreckage of his mech, or what
+ remained from the gore portal he’d just experienced. The
+ thought of what had occurred made him grimace, which was an
+ unusual state of affairs for an octopus, that is until Alex
+ realized he seemed to be back in his own body. “Sunset, or perhaps rise? It’s hard to tell. Pretty
+ though.. could be prettier without the creepy knife dude.”
+ Alex mutters to himself while he rummages through the
+ destroyed cockpit of the mech. He makes quick work, detaches a
+ side panel, pulls a couple of wires, and a compartment in the
+ back opens revealing the smooth dark blue metal and wood grain
+ of an ak74u sub machine gun. Amused Alex pulls the weapon from
+ the compartment and notices a distinct lack of additional
+ magazines, just the one large drum attached to the weapon with
+ large red letters emblazoned on it [INFINITE AMMO].
+ “Neat.” Alex pulls himself from the wreck, and jumps down behind
+ one of the fallen tentacles taking a firing position behind
+ cover, ak74u aimed down range at the faceless figure. “I don’t know who you are, but I don’t trust anyone who
+ approaches with a weapon. Let’s both stand down and talk this
+ through! I’m not supposed to be here, and I reckon you don’t
+ want me here either. I’d be happy to oblige and skidaddle if
+ you’d be so kind as to point the way out!” Alex pauses waiting
+ for a reply. The tall figure halts a short distance away. It raises a
+ hand and waves. In greeting? Surrender? In a fluid motion it
+ continues to lift the same hand and grabs a hold of its trunk,
+ a little less than a foot from the tip. It squeezes its fist
+ tightly and the tip begins to swell. It raises its other hand,
+ and the knife, and starts to saw into the flesh of the trunk
+ behind its fist. The blade cuts cleanly as though through a
+ loaf of bread. There is no blood or gore. When the creature lowers its hand, you can see that the
+ center of the trunk is a solid, bright pink fleshy material
+ like a grapefruit, in the center of which are two pin-prick
+ eyes and a wide thin gash of a mouth. It still holds the tip of its severed trunk in its hand, a
+ thin stalk and a bulging cap looking for all the world like a
+ large white button mushroom. Peering up from the stem of the
+ mushroom, an identical pink face regards you stoically. Both faces speak at the exact same time, one high pitched
+ and one a deep baritone. “Welcome, Dreamer, to Ousia, the Sea
+ of Dreams. We are Kasutva.” Big Kasutva stoops down to set the small mushroom Kasutva
+ down on the ground. If they’re both Kasutva, that is. If
+ that’s the way their biology and sense of self actually works.
+ Mushroom Kasutva wobbles side to side a little bit and waggles
+ its stalk as it looks around. Big Kasutva places its knife
+ back in its satchel and takes a few small steps closer to
+ you. “We did not mean to offend you,” the two say, still
+ perfectly in sync. “As for the way out, that depends only
+ somewhat on your destination. Whatever the answer, we can
+ assure you that it lies across the sea.” Large Kasutva
+ gestures broadly toward the expanse of ocean. Small Kasutva
+ lacks any limbs and cannot gesture, but smiles softly at
+ you. “But tell us what it is you seek. Perhaps we can be of
+ help.” WHAT DO YOU DO One moment, Inky is half-asleep on their feet in the middle
+ of Branch Avenue. In the next, they are reclining in a banana
+ boat that resembles a canoe painted with long stripes of
+ yellow and white with deep brown swipes. The s’more interior
+ padding is soft, yet with the suppleness of fruit leather. A
+ few round, matching brown mini-cushions are strewn across the
+ boat interior. Also in the boat are two silver spoon paddles,
+ more for looks than cooks. They don’t know where the boat came from. Things just
+ appear. Like that Red Squirrel. Inky moves to holler a
+ greeting, but instead recites: ~ While Inky boards her banana boat and recites poetry to the
+ maddened squirrel, Alex springs to action leaping blithely
+ from the branch towards the squirrel. Beneath him manifests a
+ cockpit, sleek and futuristic. Around this materializes a
+ large robotic weapon, octopus-oid in shape. The many tentacles
+ bristle with weapons both fearsome and deadly. Alex grabs the controls, in one tentacle he latches onto
+ the banana boat, that way he won’t accidentally get separated
+ from Inky. With the other seven a series of feathers appear in
+ every brilliant hue. The tentacle attached to the boat unfurls
+ allowing Alex to draw closer to the squirrel. As the gap
+ closes the most intense tickle fight the dream world has ever
+ seen ensues, bringing joyous laughter to the faces of
+ many. “Inky, if we need to get out of here, just jet it! That
+ tentacle will yank the control pod and me with it!” Alex basically becomes a Mech pilot, and confronts the Red
+ Squirrel head on with the Octopod. You engage in the tickle fight to end all tickle
+ fights! Its eight arms are more than a match for the squirrels
+ eight legs. You have the advantage of reach, entanglement, and
+ sucker pads. It struggles in your grasp, gnashing its terrible
+ teeth, but cannot reach you. Its long tail whips around
+ ineffectively, battering you softly. The agitated squirrel squeals and swells like a red
+ balloon. The mech’s tentacles struggle to contain it. Just as
+ the strain on the machine is about to become unbearable, the
+ rodent violently deflates. It collapses in on itself with such
+ ferocity that it turns itself inside out. The octopod, all
+ tangled up in the collapsing squirrel, is pulled along as it
+ folds in on itself until it becomes a hungry void the size of
+ a marble, floating in space and sucking at the air. Inky watches from the banana boat as Alex and the squirrel
+ disappear from the Silver Forest. The squirrel portal finally
+ closes in on itself, severing the banana boat from the octopus
+ mecha at the last possible second. Inky on this side. Alex on
+ the other. Alex, you and the wreckage of the octopod are vomited out
+ onto a sandy beach. Red mist and vapors dissipate from your
+ entry point. Before you is a vast ocean, lapping lazily at the
+ beach. The shoreline extends endlessly in both directions.
+ Behind you are endless sand dunes. Though there is no sun, the
+ sky seems to hover at sunset, all brilliant, swirling oranges
+ and purples. A lone humanoid figure can be seen standing atop a nearby
+ dune. It is tall. It has legs like a goat or fawn, and a
+ paunchy belly. Its long neck protrudes into a kind of trunk
+ that eventually folds over and hangs down in front of the
+ creature, about chest height. It terminates in a smooth, round
+ nub. No face. It wears a small satchel at its hip, its strap
+ slung over one shoulder and across its chest. Its long arms
+ hand loosely at its sides. Despite the lack of a face and any
+ sensory organs, it seems to be watching you. Slowly, it
+ descends the dune and starts walking toward you. It reaches
+ into its satchel and draws a long, sharp knife as it
+ approaches. Inky, you are in the banana boat in the Silver Forest. The
+ turtle that was a chipmunk has holed up in its shell,
+ effectively just a sticky bun. “You wanted to see me,” intones a slightly muffled voice
+ behind you. A statement, not a question. You turn to see a
+ figure cloaked in shadows and demons. They wear a domed helmet
+ of black obsidian glass, flashes of rainbow colored light
+ crackling along the inside illuminating very little of the
+ smoke-filled interior. “What is it you seek from Dude 215R?” WHAT DO YOU DO (A week prior) The secretary collected the stack of papers that had
- accumulated at one corner of the desk. “This might help,” she
- said, setting down a bundle of herbs with white and pink
- flowers in place of the papers. Inky stared at the blooms, hands stilled over the owl’s
- plumage. “Oh! Thanks. Good thinking, really. It’ll help make
- the stench more bearable when they find the remains.” The grey elf was confused for a moment, then mortified as
- the words sank in. “That’s not what I meant! It’s for the
- circle,” she clarified. Seeing the imp’s preoccupied nod, she coughed lightly to
- regain their attention, then spoke in a hushed voice.
- “Beaker’s associates have picked up the empanada shop
- proprietor and transported him to an undisclosed location.
- There will be a retinue with him at all times.” Inky seemed to visibly pull themselves back to the room
- before responding, “Thank you, Salvia. One more thing — if I
- do not return by the indicated time, please activate the
- hitsuzen protocol. As precaution.” The secretary looked at Inky in concern. “Is everything all
- right? If you’re still troubled by the hotelier, accidents
- happen. A single incident—” “Third. An unidentified man was attacked at the docks. He
- was probably sent to investigate the melon vendor. One of the
- other stall owners heard him asking questions shortly after
- the melon vendor disappeared.” Salvia’s violet eyes narrowed. “What, the fruit vendor?
- Didn’t the tabloids say it was an accident? He tried to get
- rid of a neighbor’s nest of snakes.” Inky only raised an eyebrow at her. The secretary let out a low curse. “You didn’t tell her.
- You didn’t want her to worry,” she said aloud in realization.
- She sighed. “She’s going to be pretty angry with you when she
- finds out, you know.” Inky offered her a sardonic smile. “Making people angry is
- my job. You of all people know this well. In the event of my
- timely demise I’m sure the others would find it cause for a
- grand celebration.” They replied matter-of-factly before
- returning to smoothing the feathers of one bird wing. Salvia shook her head vehemently. “That’s not true. You’ll
- make it back, Ink. What then—” “Then our fair Lady’s ire would be the least of the
- problems.” The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface.
+ Patterns where patterns shouldn’t be, strange orders from HQ,
+ indifference where once was ample aide as well. It was
+ maddening. Combine it all with the haunting suspicion that
+ there was constantly someone just around the next corner, and
+ it was enough to truly drive Alex mad. That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line,
+ but Alex wasn’t about to let it get to him. Or so he thought
+ to himself as he cast a furtive look at his monitoring
+ equipment. This paranoia had served him well in the past, very
+ well in fact. It’s a sort of sixth sense in a way, always kept
+ Alex off the edge of the cliff, especially when someone
+ stepped close enough to push him off. Those were the types of
+ skills HQ sought after in the first place. Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his
+ monitoring equipment running, dead man’s trigger set to blow
+ the place shoul anyone enter it. Can’t be too careful these
+ days.. Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows,
+ Alex makes his way down an alley, then another, and yet
+ another, finally emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market.
+ Across the street, as he had expected, was Marvelo’s Marvelous
+ MurderSticks, a quaint place should one needed something, well
+ you get the picture, they don’t really sell anything but
+ weaponry here. Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode
+ towards the back rack, where a collection of knives was on
+ display. A rough looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning
+ hair, moved from the counter as he saw Alex approach. “Fine
+ sampling of knives we have, could I interest you in one?”
+ Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin stilleto style dagger,
+ and hands it to Marvelo “This one seems about right, but I’d
+ like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you don’t mind”.
+ Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say “Not a problem at all
+ sir”, and he heads into the back. He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he
+ places it on his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from
+ a stack, he deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled
+ piece of paper into the bottom, alongside an m1911 style
+ pistol, and a couple of clips of ammo. He then places the
+ velvet bottom back over the equipment, and places the stilleto
+ on top, bringing the entire package back to the front. “An
+ extra fine edge on this one sir, that’ll be 15 gold, plus
+ another 5 to cover the service. Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back
+ alley. Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to
+ himself as he disassembles the box holstering the pistol and
+ ammo, and sheathing the dagger. Can’t keep going unarmed like
+ I’m some kind of beat cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the
+ case and unfurls the message, quickly deciphering the
+ encryption set on it by Marvelo. Alex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley,
+ taking a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping
+ back around, and heading back towards it by yet another.
+ Nobody appeared to be following him, yet he paused at each
+ corner and turn, waiting for the footsteps of a pursuant. Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance
+ of Enrique’s Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial.
+ “Enrique, where’s Inky? We’ve got a problem.” ~ Alex stared morosely into his cup of coffee. He’d received
- word of agent 5’s demise that morning, and had been the only
- thing on his mind since. 5, no Be’tram knew the risks, we all
- knew the risks defying HQ brought, but to happen so suddenly?
- He’d snuck down to the wharf once he’d heard, making sure to
- cover his tracks and dodge any potential witnesses. He even
- managed to slip past the police cordon they’d setup around the
- body. What he’d found wasn’t pretty, it looked like Be’Tram
- had suffered in his final moments. The bruising around his
- neck pointed to strangulation, with some sort of cloth,
- perhaps a rope. The bruising was deep, and there wasn’t a cut,
- burn, shot or something of the likes on his otherwise. The kill had been intimate. Alex had worked quickly that night, popping Be’Tram’s eye
- had been hard, but he’d of wanted Alex to have it. Behind his
- right eye was a recording device, it could only catch the last
- 15m or so of what he had seen, but it would give him a clear
- look at what had happened. And potentially lead Alex to the
- killer. Miserable business, but Be’Tram knew it could make a
- difference. Alex had planted a bomb on the body after he had extracted
- the eye, and made his way well away from the area before it
- went off obliterating the remains. A regrettable end for an
- old friend, but it was too dangerous to leave. And then there was the matter of the zabbix alert, a little
- purple red critical for the sewer hideout. He’d had time to
- send out a drone beetle. The smoldering slag that was left was
- reassuring. Most of the equipment was utterly destroyed, racks
- upon racks of servers reduced to twisted melted metal. The
- effectively of the destruction was delightful, in a sick sort
- of desperate way. Alex felt assured that most if not all of
- the equipment was useless, but this spelled the end of a
- valuable listening outpost. And whoever had done it wasn’t
- part of the slag pile. Alex stood up, his coffee untouched. The cafe around his
- burbled in quiet excitement. The city had lit up since the
- Melon vendor’s death. A thousand rumors abounded about it, but
- none of them held true; some said the city had become
- dangerous, a crime syndicate had arisen in the neighboring
- city block another thought, and did you hear about the
- explosion at the wharf the other night, the city was electric,
- yet somehow ever so slightly off the pulse of the issue. As Alex stepped away a woman with horn rimmed glasses
- strode past the table he had just abandoned, deftly pulling
- the note from beneath the coffee cup, left for her. For the passerby, it was but a bit of poetry, scribbled
- carelessly on the back of a napkin in a coffee near the wharf.
- But for Agent 3 it was a warning, one part notes on Agent 5s
- demise recovered from his eyecam, one part orders; stay low
- and we’ll strike these bastards from the shadows, on our
- terms, on our ground. Similar missives were delivered to
- Agents 6 & 7. The numbers were dwindling rapidly, even
- just one agent lost was hard to stomach. Alex hand gripped the pistol in his coat pocket with a
- white knuckled grip as he stepped from the coffee shop into
- the city. Whatever was after him, whatever had gotten to
- Be’Tram, it had better know he was coming, and he’d happily
- send it straight to hell. HQ be damned, the rules be damned,
- this little game of cat and mouse had just gotten
- personal. ~ Alex, Inky, Confidence, Bread, and Agent 7 find themselves
- in a dark backroom in a secluded corner of an old fish
- processing plant on the wharf. The accommodations are rough,
- and the stench is abhorrent, but it’s the best that could be
- procured in a pinch. And it should provide enough
- seclusion. The backroom is like that of many factories, high up near
- the ceiling, a single rusty rickety staircase winds its way
- along the side of the building for what seems to be 3 flights,
- before it reaches a metal room with dusty grimy windows, and a
- single steel door. The windows on the interior overlook the
- fish processing plant, where rows of belts and machinery stand
- still, covered in dust and long forgotten blood. You’re glad
- to know that the factory stopped operating years ago, hygiene
- is lacking in every sense. Alex stares forlornly out the exterior windows, the sky is
- a grey overcast, it matches his mood perfectly. He didn’t like
- what him and Inky were about to do, but they didn’t have much
- they could do about it. They would be vulnerable for the
- duration of the ritual. But Agent 7 and Confidence were there
- to help mitigate that risk. Alex and Agent 7 had taken every
- precaution they could think of. The plant floor was scattered with booby traps, trip wires,
- and alarms. The other agents were laying low, but kept drones
- around the wharf feeding in a network of twtxt data back to
- Agent 7 for recon. And that was on top of the double barred
- steel doors, and reinforced glass box they’d chosen as their
- hide out. Meticulously planned, Alex expected no less from
- Agent 7. See Marvelo had been at this as long as Alex had, and then
- some. He was sharp as a tack, with an animal-like third sense
- that came from years of close calls. He was, simply put, the
- right man for the job, when that job was keeping your
- unconscious ass alive. Alex turns away from the window and addresses Inky.
- “Apologies for the smell, it turns out there’s a strong
- correlation between disgust and seclusion, but I believe we
- should at least be safe here. Safer than we would have been
- back home. I’m ready if you are, as ready as I’ll ever be that
- is.” The Golden Iris have summoned you to appear at the Harpoon
- Club this evening. But the Harpoon Club is nowhere to be found
- on this plane of existence. It won’t appear until a week and a
- half from now, on the last day of the month. Confidence the Guide has predicted exactly where the
- Wandering Bazaar will be on that day. With a small bucket of
- red paint and a large brush, he has drawn a Linking Sigil on
- the ground at the location. He sits nearby, making sure
- careless passersby and mischievous kids don’t disturb it, but
- otherwise letting the sigil absorb the energies of the bustle
- of shopping and commerce. At the fish market, Marvelo is posted outside. He keeps
- vigilant watch, alert to every movement and disturbance. And inside, Bread, Inky, Fuko, and Alex are huddled up in
- the office in the back near the ceiling. They all sit inside a
- dark circle that has been smudged on the floor with a paste
- made of ash and salt. Painted on the ground is a second
- Linking Sigil, connecting this spot to Confidence’s, allowing
- the energies of the two locations to co-mingle. There is also
- the Dream Sigil, which will connect this place to the
- Dreaming. Bread the Host is propped up on some pillows and cushions
- in the center of the circle, next to the Nyxmaer. The candle
- is alleged to be made of the flesh and fat of a certain
- nightmare. Its hand and eye bound in the wax. The Dream Sigil
- is the door, but the Nyxmaer is the key. The catalyst that
- will cause all of the otherwise inert metaphysical particles
- to become volatile and reactive. It is what will allow you to
- actually pass over and arrive on the shores of the Sea of
- Dreams. Per the shop witch’s instructions, the Nyxmaer has been
- placed on a thin, hard tin plate. As the candle burns, the wax
- will soften and eventually allow the large metal nail in its
- side to fall. When it strikes the plate, you will awaken,
- exiting the Dreaming. You expect hours may pass in the realm
- of sleep. But only about thirty minutes will pass here. Inky and Alex sit inside the circle, near the perimeter,
- facing Bread in the center. Fuko the owl sits at Inky’s
- side. It is dim. You are illuminated by mundane, non-magical
- candles set around the edges of the circle. Outside, a steady
- rain beats on the roof and the windows of the building. The
- smell of fish is faint but ever-present. A constant reminder
- of the small creatures that have left their bodies in a
- fashion far more permanent and irreversible than the
- separation of spirit and body you are about to experience. You
- hope. WHAT DO YOU DO Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the
+ items and exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of
+ meeting Bother at the place stipulated on the note. (Half and one hour later) One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky
+ runs into Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains
+ some of their new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for
+ the convenience of late-night tourists. These are subsequently
+ hare-mailed to every editor at the Niuewstijl office,
+ which is almost certain to earn another chiding remark from
+ Tess about etiquette and the handling of unsolicited bulk mail
+ to parent editorial teams. (Half and two hours later) The installation on display at the Milk Market was
+ grotesque — that is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps
+ carefully through the rooms to not disturb the piece.
+ Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set up on an upturned milk
+ crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows of horse head and
+ thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled “you can’t ed
+ the unedible”. (Half and three hours earlier) Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of
+ paper on which were written a few questions about the
+ prescribed ritual, with some space after each question should
+ the witch prefer to scribble a response: How do you induce a deep and powerful slumber in
- Bread? What shape or form will you take when you arrive in the
- Dreaming? What are you secretly worried or hopeful about being
- exposed in the dreamland, the realm of metaphor? What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
+ typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
+ correct pocket dimension? An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
+ evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
+ to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
+ seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
+ time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
+ establishment while it is open? Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
+ ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them? Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
+ sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake
+ up? Alex procures from a pocket of his trenchcoat a tiny vial.
- On the vial is a small strip of parchment which reads: He empties the vial into a glass of warm milk and hands it
- to bread. “Drink up friend, this’ll relax and soothe you. You’ll
- probably have the best night’s sleep you’ve ever had” Over the radio Alex provides a quick reminder to
- Marvelo. “7, remember, should you need to wake bread to get us out
- you can interrupt or cancel the sleep script, Ctrl + C should
- work for the disruption work. Or if you need to you can set
- sleepy=false, if it gets crazy and you need to modify the
- metavarbalic properties of the enchantment.” Turning to Inky, “Eight bells and all’s well, lets get this
- show on the road” (Half and four hours later) Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin.
+ One accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation,
+ following the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white
+ pockets of fat as they tumble into a hot pan and almost
+ immediately begin to move of their own accord. The moving
+ mounds resemble small round mouths opening, each with a rim of
+ sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes belongs to a grinning face
+ that beams when the mounds bloom into bright red flat caps,
+ the edges beneath about to soften in the olive oil. Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate
+ of tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes
+ with a murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the
+ tinned spicy artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process —
+ someone had ripped out the pages from an old pickling book
+ that had long ceased publication. Eventually Inky found a
+ former nomad who had eaten them for two years in their youth
+ and could recall or somewhat describe the taste. Flowery and
+ savoury, they said. Many taste tests later, it turned out to
+ be closer to partially decomposed cheese in ponderosa lemon
+ juice. Canning was fortuitously easier with the increasing
+ portability of sealers. Rather than telling the empanada chef
+ any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread across
+ his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining. (Half and five hours later) While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea
+ infusion since the start of the missions, not that Inky was
+ keeping a close count, they hear a familiar voice a short
+ distance outside the door asking for their whereabouts.
+ Without pausing in their whisking, Inky simply informs the
+ owner of the voice they’re not here, obviously, before
+ emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot and bowls on
+ a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer. Bread smiles and thanks you for the milk. They down the
- glass, smack their lips a few times, and wipe their mouth with
- the back of their hand. Their eyelids grow heavy and close,
- and they slump down on the cushions. They’re already asleep by
- the time their head hits the pillow. Agate writes back quickly: Inky nods once at Alex’s words and finishes off their own
- cuppa steeped with calea and thyme, and blended into osmanthus
- matcha. Lucida, Protege, Aware, Perfume. A meaningless
- mantra. They glance to their owlish accomplice (who, she will
- remind you, is well-trained and needs no sleeping aid, thank
- you very much, unlike her impish charge) and silently mouth
- the words “Dude 215R” with a wink. Then they settle for a nap,
- chin pillowed on their forearms, which are propped atop
- drawn-up knees. A walking stick rests on their lap. A herb
- bouquet of pink blooms becomes an owl cushion. Inky dreamforms of a cream noogle. Puko. And Fuko is, well,
- still Fuko. What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
+ typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
+ correct pocket dimension? You light the Nyxmaer. The flame crackles and dances. It
- smokes darkly, and the scent it gives off is thick and
- heady. You breathe deeply of it and settle down to sleep. When you open your eyes you are standing on the branch of
- an enormous white tree. It’s as wide as a narrow street. Its
- leaves are silver blades that uncurl in the dappled light from
- below. One of the first things you notice is that gravity is
- reversed here. The branches below you reach down, grazing an
- endless sky. Small iridescent jellyfish medusae drift lazily
- far, far below, catching and reflecting the light. And the
- trunk thickens as it reaches up overhead, where its roots
- drill into the ceiling above. Because of dream logic, you know that in some way this tree
- represents Kelsun Peak, Bread’s home. And also because of
- dream logic, you know that the branches furthest away from you
- in some way represent the great dragon Lucin who lives deep in
- the mountain. And they are just as dangerous. They sway in the
- breeze and seem to be aware of you, and are for now satisfied
- at the distance you keep from them. There is a chipmunk sitting cross-legged before you on the
- branch. It looks curiously up at you and says, “The Red
- Squirrel stole my acorns! Are you going to get them back for
- me?” You can feel a metaphysical tug in your gut as your orient
- yourself to dreamspace like the needle of a compass. “Inward”
- you can feel a tug toward Bread’s deep unconscious. To their
- core memories. “Outward” you can feel a tug away from Bread
- toward the shores of the Sea of Dreams, where you may continue
- your journey through the Collective Unconsciousness to the
- pocket dimension of the Wandering Bazaar. You need not move
- physically to travel in either direction. It’s more a matter
- of choosing a destination, and letting the winds blow you in
- that direction. “My acorns!” insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. “The
- Red Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help
- me?” WHAT DO YOU DO Alex the Octopus and Inky the Noogle stand on a tree branch
- as wide a street in the heart of the great white upside-down
- forest. A cry of anguish and anger echoes through the forest, and
- the branches below you sway and rustle as something rises up
- from the depths. You keep catching a glimpse of scarlet
- between the silvery white leaves. The large black ravens perched below you scream in
- agitation and fly up past you to the thicker branches up
- above, where they hop side to side and loudly scold and
- protest the disturbance. A single black feather the length of
- your hand settles to the ground at your feet, knocked loose
- during their flight. You finally see the fearsome beast crashing through the
- branches below you. Its crazed, yellow eyes as large and round
- as dinner plates, a great eight-legged rodent leaps from
- branch to branch as it swiftly ascends. It is a bloody,
- crimson red. Its long tufted ears lay flat against its
- elongated, grinning skull. Its ribbon-like tail twitches as it
- trails along behind it like a river of blood. It cries out
- again in anger, showing its overgrown incisors, and grinds and
- gnashes its back teeth. Its eyes bore into you with wild fury and blind madness as
- it climbs. “She’s not herself,” sighs the chipmunk, suddenly at your
- side once more. When you look down at the chipmunk, however,
- it has suddenly turned into a small featureless black turtle
- with a sticky sweet roll instead of a shell. Its smooth little
- head pokes timidly out of the roll. “The Red Squirrel,” laments the turtle. “She’s being ridden
- by a ghost. An angry ghost who isn’t from here. Somebody left
- the door open, and it blew in on the breeze.” The turtle’s
- voice trails off until its final words are barely a
- whisper. You can still feel two currents tugging at you and trying
- to pull you under. One inward toward your host’s deep, core
- memories. And the second pulling you outward toward the Sea of
- Dreams. You have but a moment before the Red Squirrel is upon
- you. WHAT DO YOU DO Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams. Alex takes inventory of himself, this dream world is
- definitely strange, but fortunately its decided to provide him
- with his impecable fashion, trench coat and all. Unfortunately
- the same can’t be said for his roguish good looks, as he’s
- found himself 6 arms heavier, and a bit more octopus-y than he
- remembers. Nontheless this doesn’t appear to be much of an impediment,
- and he promptly moves on with assessing the situation. “Acorns? No, I don’t think so. I’m afraid octopus’ are
- terrible at fetching acrons, and at any rate, I have a
- dreadfully important meeting across town.” turning to address
- Inky, “We need to make a break for it, what’d the witch tell
- you? Envision our goal or something? This is really a little
- outside of my realm of mechanical magic expertise..
- unless..” Alex makes a gesture with his tentacles in the area and a
- terminal prompt appears before him. His tentacles work at
- blinding speed at the digital window, a quick bypass there, a
- root access escalation there. “Looks like this whole place runs on Linux, it’s an older
- kernel, about 2.6 or so, but it checks out. Easy to exploit as
- needed. Here I’m giving us sudo access, should we need
- it.” “Oh and squirrel, here’s your acorns” An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
+ evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
+ to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
+ seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
+ time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
+ establishment while it is open? It takes Alectopus a couple tries, but he gets it. First he
- corrects ‘acron’ to ‘acorn’. Then he moves all the acorns to
- the chipmunk instead of to the squirrel. Hundreds of acorns appear at the chipmunk’s feet. It
- squeals in delight. In the distance, far below you, you hear the anguished yell
- of what can only be a Red Squirrel whose giant stash of acorns
- has just vanished. The chipmunk rubs its hands together gleefully and starts
- scooping up acorns by the armful and shoving them into its
- mouth by the dozen. “Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” it
- says around a mouthful of nuts. “Here…” It tosses you a large
- square silver coin with a round hole drilled in the center. On
- one side is the number twenty-one next to a picture of a
- curved, short-handled sickle. On the other side is the number
- five and a picture of a flail. “A Twenty-One Fiver! Sorry, you deserve more, but it’s all
- I have,” it apologizes as it scampers off, no doubt to hide
- its nuts. Hopefully somewhere more secure this time. If you hold the coin up to your eye and peer through the
- hole, you see the dreamscape before you as though looking
- through a cloudy film. All the same stuff is there, but it’s
- hazy and shadowy. Standing a fair distance from you on the branch, just out
- of hailing distance, is a tall figure cloaked in black robes.
- Dark shadows pool restlessly around its feet. Occasionally the
- shadows leap up and take the form of demons the like of which
- words cannot describe, before falling and returning to shadow
- once more. The figure wears a large spherical helmet of
- obsidian-like glass. You can see constant flashes of a rainbow
- of colors crackle and splinter along the inside of the helmet
- like lightning, but illuminating nothing within. You feel
- sickened at the sight, but at the edge of your mind you feels
- a tug, a familiarity. Something about this character is
- familiar to you, but you cannot place it. When you lower the coin, the figure and the dark landscape
- both disappear. When you raise it again, the distorted
- landscape reappears but the figure is gone. You notice a pair of large ravens watching you rather
- intently from the branches below. WHAT DO YOU DO Marvelo fetched a fluffy blanket from the piles of blankets
- and pillows in the ritual room where the dreamers continue to
- sleep. He has wrapped up the child and is drying them off. The
- sound of rain continues to drum incessantly outside. “Poor thing, you’re chilled to the bone. Don’t worry, Uncle
- Marv will take care of you. There we go. Fix you right
- up!” The child is still and silent. It has not made a noise this
- whole time. Nor has it acted on its own to actually do
- anything besides stare up at Marvelo with wide, dark eyes. “How did you end up outside by yourself in the rain, hmm?
- No? That’s okay. What about your name? Have you got a
- name?” “Rind,” says a voice behind Marvelo. At the sound of its
- name, the child’s eyes flick over Marvelo’s shoulder. The
- mercenary starts to spin around even as the blanket writhes in
- his hands, wrapping itself around his wrists and binding them
- tightly together. “Hungh!” he cries out wordlessly and tucks into a roll,
- turning to face his assailant and—he hopes—dodging any
- potential attack from behind. And also putting some distance
- between himself and the child to get it out of harms way. Marvelo tries to push up to his knees as cords of rope
- snake their way out of the shadows and coil around his knees
- and elbows. He struggles to pull free of them. A thicker rope
- wraps around his waist, and another squeezes around his chest
- and back. The ropes contract and pull Marvelo into a ball. He
- groans and falls to his side. He looks up into the eyes of a
- man wearing a bright red sash. The child has tottled over to the man and reaches its arms
- up. The man scoops the child up and holds it in the crook of
- one arm. The child puts its arms around the man’s neck and
- looks down at Marvelo while resting its cheek on the man’s
- chest. “His name is Rind,” the man smiles. You’ll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside.
+ You’ll likely arrive exactly when you’re meant to. No need to
+ worry too much about it. Feeling bedraggled yet dry despite having been submerged
- under water, Inky lays on the beach, staring up at the sky
- before sitting up and looking around the landscape. They are
- now attired in a hooded azure blue vest over red shirt and
- shorts, and blue shoes over mismatched knee-high stockings.
- Their auburn hair is tied back with the drawstrings from an
- attached small pouch. A plush toy resembling a certain floofy
- duck peeks out from the hood. They sense a soft weight land on one shoulder, and smile as
- Fuko nips at their ear, no doubt partly in reproach for
- wandering off again without her, and maybe partly meant to be
- reassuring. This is followed several moments later by a low
- hiss and a series of light taps next to Inky’s ear with her
- beak. Inky murmurs, “Is that so … we should call it a wrap
- soon. Master Alex would probably be happy having Big Bother to
- himself anyway, to grill as he likes.” After a very long minute, Inky sighs and taking out a piece
- of paper and pencil from their suitcase, scribbles a
- “pome”: They roll up the paper and tuck it into a small and clear
- glass bottle with a cork stopper. Murmuring the sysorcerer’s
- name to the bottle, they lower it into the water and watch as
- the bottle drifts into the distance. Walking along the shoreline and stopping a short distance
- from the lone figure, Inky says casually, “Good day, fellow
- thing-finder.” Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
+ ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them? The figure turns in your direction and lowers their hood
- revealing a long, hooked, black beak and a face covered in
- black feathers. Beady black eyes regard you without
- blinking. The feathers around its throat bristle when it speaks like
- a thick bristling beard. “Greetings, Dreamer, and welcome to Ephemeris, the Heart of
- the Dreaming. What brings you to the Throne of Konsu?” Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream
+ Sigil, respectively. It’s not terrible if they show
+ up. But it’s definitely not ideal. You shouldn’t register on
+ their radar as long as you don’t pump too much energy into, or
+ siphon to much energy out of, the sigils. If they do show up,
+ just know that you’re in the presence of a godlike power, and
+ behave accordingly. Well Kasutva, I may as well trust you. I imagine if you
- meant me harm there are more direct and interesting ways to
- harm me than to misguide me. Give me a moment to collect
- myself, I’ve never been much for swimming you see, learned
- late and was always deathly afraid as a child. Dreadful stuff
- really. Alex steps away briefly to the edge of the pier and looks
- into the Azure blue ocean, a swirl of unending blue depth.
- Still not my thing, Alex mutters to himself. As he steels
- himself he notices a bottle adrift, nearing the pier. As it
- comes closer, he plucks it from the water, decorks it and
- inspects the note inside. “What does it say” the little Kasutva inquires. “Oh nothing, just someone trying to get in contact about
- our floating pirateships extended warranty” Alex replies
- bruskly. This definitely must have come from Inky Alex thinks
- to himself. They must have found the way. “Look Kasutva, this has been great fun, but I really think
- I ought to be going, not really sure that a sea of anyones
- dreams is my sort of thing and all that. And I seem ot have
- done not but create a mess of things” Alex says as he gestures
- to the wreckage of the Mech. Alex gestures in the air before
- him, a small split keyboard appears in front of him and he
- types out a few short commands. Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
+ sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up? “Right!” Alex exclaims startling the little Kasutva
- accidentally. “Time for me to head back to the real world.
- Anything you need from me before I head out? Oh also, can I
- take the ak74u? I think I might need it.” “Back … back to the waking world?” Mushroom Kasutva
- stammers. “But…” It looks out at the sea with a look of longing, confusion,
- and frustration. “But we were finally going to see Ephemeris,”
- they say almost wistfully. “You were going to take us to Ephemeris!” they shout at
- you, suddenly angry. Mushroom Kasutva screws up its face and roars in rage as it
- rushes at you and tries to shove you over the edge of the pier
- into the waters below. But Kasutva is less than a foot tall and quite ineffective
- at shoving a human-sized person such as Alex. Big Kasutva, on the otherhand, is roughly twelve feet tall
- and quite capable of manhandling a human-sized person. You look up in time to jerk back out of the way as they
- swipe at your chest with their face-removing knife. It was all
- a feint though. As soon as you are slightly off balance from
- dodging their attack, they reach out with their other hand and
- give you a shove. You trip over Mushroom Kasutva, who has positioned themself
- in just such a way to best tangle up your feet. You stumble
- backwards a few steps until one of your feet steps out into
- open air. You twist and and look behind you as Ousia rises up
- to meet you. Kasutva clings to your leg as you fall, crying. “We’re
- sorry. We’re sorry,” they say over and over as you are pulled
- below the waves. If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken,
+ you’ll likely just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for
+ if your dreamform is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only
+ real danger you may encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk.
+ They will attempt to permanently sever your dreamform from
+ your waking body. Which would leave your body a soulless husk,
+ and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But
+ that probably won’t happen! Okay good luck, have fun! WHAT DO YOU DO Alex the Octopus and Inky the Noogle stand on a tree branch
+ as wide a street in the heart of the great white upside-down
+ forest. A cry of anguish and anger echoes through the forest, and
+ the branches below you sway and rustle as something rises up
+ from the depths. You keep catching a glimpse of scarlet
+ between the silvery white leaves. The large black ravens perched below you scream in
+ agitation and fly up past you to the thicker branches up
+ above, where they hop side to side and loudly scold and
+ protest the disturbance. A single black feather the length of
+ your hand settles to the ground at your feet, knocked loose
+ during their flight. You finally see the fearsome beast crashing through the
+ branches below you. Its crazed, yellow eyes as large and round
+ as dinner plates, a great eight-legged rodent leaps from
+ branch to branch as it swiftly ascends. It is a bloody,
+ crimson red. Its long tufted ears lay flat against its
+ elongated, grinning skull. Its ribbon-like tail twitches as it
+ trails along behind it like a river of blood. It cries out
+ again in anger, showing its overgrown incisors, and grinds and
+ gnashes its back teeth. Its eyes bore into you with wild fury and blind madness as
+ it climbs. “She’s not herself,” sighs the chipmunk, suddenly at your
+ side once more. When you look down at the chipmunk, however,
+ it has suddenly turned into a small featureless black turtle
+ with a sticky sweet roll instead of a shell. Its smooth little
+ head pokes timidly out of the roll. “The Red Squirrel,” laments the turtle. “She’s being ridden
+ by a ghost. An angry ghost who isn’t from here. Somebody left
+ the door open, and it blew in on the breeze.” The turtle’s
+ voice trails off until its final words are barely a
+ whisper. You can still feel two currents tugging at you and trying
+ to pull you under. One inward toward your host’s deep, core
+ memories. And the second pulling you outward toward the Sea of
+ Dreams. You have but a moment before the Red Squirrel is upon
+ you. WHAT DO YOU DO Marvelo fetched a fluffy blanket from the piles of blankets
+ and pillows in the ritual room where the dreamers continue to
+ sleep. He has wrapped up the child and is drying them off. The
+ sound of rain continues to drum incessantly outside. “Poor thing, you’re chilled to the bone. Don’t worry, Uncle
+ Marv will take care of you. There we go. Fix you right
+ up!” The child is still and silent. It has not made a noise this
+ whole time. Nor has it acted on its own to actually do
+ anything besides stare up at Marvelo with wide, dark eyes. “How did you end up outside by yourself in the rain, hmm?
+ No? That’s okay. What about your name? Have you got a
+ name?” “Rind,” says a voice behind Marvelo. At the sound of its
+ name, the child’s eyes flick over Marvelo’s shoulder. The
+ mercenary starts to spin around even as the blanket writhes in
+ his hands, wrapping itself around his wrists and binding them
+ tightly together. “Hungh!” he cries out wordlessly and tucks into a roll,
+ turning to face his assailant and—he hopes—dodging any
+ potential attack from behind. And also putting some distance
+ between himself and the child to get it out of harms way. Marvelo tries to push up to his knees as cords of rope
+ snake their way out of the shadows and coil around his knees
+ and elbows. He struggles to pull free of them. A thicker rope
+ wraps around his waist, and another squeezes around his chest
+ and back. The ropes contract and pull Marvelo into a ball. He
+ groans and falls to his side. He looks up into the eyes of a
+ man wearing a bright red sash. The child has tottled over to the man and reaches its arms
+ up. The man scoops the child up and holds it in the crook of
+ one arm. The child puts its arms around the man’s neck and
+ looks down at Marvelo while resting its cheek on the man’s
+ chest. “His name is Rind,” the man smiles. Feeling bedraggled yet dry despite having been submerged
+ under water, Inky lays on the beach, staring up at the sky
+ before sitting up and looking around the landscape. They are
+ now attired in a hooded azure blue vest over red shirt and
+ shorts, and blue shoes over mismatched knee-high stockings.
+ Their auburn hair is tied back with the drawstrings from an
+ attached small pouch. A plush toy resembling a certain floofy
+ duck peeks out from the hood. They sense a soft weight land on one shoulder, and smile as
+ Fuko nips at their ear, no doubt partly in reproach for
+ wandering off again without her, and maybe partly meant to be
+ reassuring. This is followed several moments later by a low
+ hiss and a series of light taps next to Inky’s ear with her
+ beak. Inky murmurs, “Is that so … we should call it a wrap
+ soon. Master Alex would probably be happy having Big Bother to
+ himself anyway, to grill as he likes.” After a very long minute, Inky sighs and taking out a piece
+ of paper and pencil from their suitcase, scribbles a
+ “pome”: They roll up the paper and tuck it into a small and clear
+ glass bottle with a cork stopper. Murmuring the sysorcerer’s
+ name to the bottle, they lower it into the water and watch as
+ the bottle drifts into the distance. Walking along the shoreline and stopping a short distance
+ from the lone figure, Inky says casually, “Good day, fellow
+ thing-finder.” The figure turns in your direction and lowers their hood
+ revealing a long, hooked, black beak and a face covered in
+ black feathers. Beady black eyes regard you without
+ blinking. The feathers around its throat bristle when it speaks like
+ a thick bristling beard. “Greetings, Dreamer, and welcome to Ephemeris, the Heart of
+ the Dreaming. What brings you to the Throne of Konsu?” Well Kasutva, I may as well trust you. I imagine if you
+ meant me harm there are more direct and interesting ways to
+ harm me than to misguide me. Give me a moment to collect
+ myself, I’ve never been much for swimming you see, learned
+ late and was always deathly afraid as a child. Dreadful stuff
+ really. Alex steps away briefly to the edge of the pier and looks
+ into the Azure blue ocean, a swirl of unending blue depth.
+ Still not my thing, Alex mutters to himself. As he steels
+ himself he notices a bottle adrift, nearing the pier. As it
+ comes closer, he plucks it from the water, decorks it and
+ inspects the note inside. “What does it say” the little Kasutva inquires. “Oh nothing, just someone trying to get in contact about
+ our floating pirateships extended warranty” Alex replies
+ bruskly. This definitely must have come from Inky Alex thinks
+ to himself. They must have found the way. “Look Kasutva, this has been great fun, but I really think
+ I ought to be going, not really sure that a sea of anyones
+ dreams is my sort of thing and all that. And I seem ot have
+ done not but create a mess of things” Alex says as he gestures
+ to the wreckage of the Mech. Alex gestures in the air before
+ him, a small split keyboard appears in front of him and he
+ types out a few short commands. “Right!” Alex exclaims startling the little Kasutva
+ accidentally. “Time for me to head back to the real world.
+ Anything you need from me before I head out? Oh also, can I
+ take the ak74u? I think I might need it.” “Back … back to the waking world?” Mushroom Kasutva
+ stammers. “But…” It looks out at the sea with a look of longing, confusion,
+ and frustration. “But we were finally going to see Ephemeris,”
+ they say almost wistfully. “You were going to take us to Ephemeris!” they shout at
+ you, suddenly angry. Mushroom Kasutva screws up its face and roars in rage as it
+ rushes at you and tries to shove you over the edge of the pier
+ into the waters below. But Kasutva is less than a foot tall and quite ineffective
+ at shoving a human-sized person such as Alex. Big Kasutva, on the otherhand, is roughly twelve feet tall
+ and quite capable of manhandling a human-sized person. You look up in time to jerk back out of the way as they
+ swipe at your chest with their face-removing knife. It was all
+ a feint though. As soon as you are slightly off balance from
+ dodging their attack, they reach out with their other hand and
+ give you a shove. You trip over Mushroom Kasutva, who has positioned themself
+ in just such a way to best tangle up your feet. You stumble
+ backwards a few steps until one of your feet steps out into
+ open air. You twist and and look behind you as Ousia rises up
+ to meet you. Kasutva clings to your leg as you fall, crying. “We’re
+ sorry. We’re sorry,” they say over and over as you are pulled
+ below the waves. WHAT DO YOU DO Once back in the Milk Bar, with the airship safely anchored
- to the roof of the building, Alex finds himself amongst the
- old belongings of his former uncle. sigh “Best get a request to HQ for this airship,
- maybe they’ll let us operate it for a bit, if not I suppose we
- have to impound it..” “There’s also the matter of this little hemogoblin..” Alex
- mutters to himself while said hemogoblin happily dances around
- the room, dripping little pools of blood hither and
- tither. “Hey little guy, lets go get an empanade. Inky says they’re
- divine.” Alex says as he scoops up the little goblin and
- gently carries him downstairs.” Striding into Enriques kitchen, and availing himself to the
- empanadas, ignoring an indignant Enrique’s protests that these
- were for paying customers until a small bag of coins is tossed
- careless over one shoulder. Alex stride through the kitchen
- and then out and away into the garden to enjoy their pilfered
- treats. “I suppose this is more interesting than being on the force
- at times” ~ Inky stepped into the toques’ cabin below deck with a tray
- of turmeric ginger tea and lavender biscuits. After checking
- on Bread’s bandages and offering the toque reclined on the
- berth the last bag of mango croutons — or at least the last
- one for the next two hours — Inky perched on a wooden barrel
- across from where Confidence sat on a creaking old chair next
- to the bunk and spoke. “We’ll be landing in about an hour and
- getting Bread to a medical facility. You can stay with him
- while he heals and rest up.” They paused to take a long sip from their cup, as if the
- liquid was being used to summon their next words. “On behalf
- of myself and the party, I apologise for the … disruption, and
- for what had befallen the hotelier. As you may have already
- noticed, we’re a fair distance away from the Peak and will be
- arriving in Vay’Nullar soon. This airship was taken over from
- the cyberplasms in the course of getting the crystal out and
- the injured to a safe location, and her new captain could
- hardly fly it back straight into the pirates’ hands now. What we propose is this: you and Bread may take as long as
- you need to recover. We can arrange for lodgings and new posts
- in the city. One of our party runs a Milk Market that could
- certainly use some hired help, and a garden in the back that
- would benefit from more attention. Pay will be double your
- current salary at the hotel. Master Alex may also recruit you
- for other tasks. You don’t need to have an answer just yet —
- think on it for a bit while you rest and let us know.
- Afterwards, if you find that you still wish to return to
- Kelsun Peak, we will pay for travel.” Inky winked at Bread conspiratorially. “You may be
- interested to know there is a bakery on the Milk Market’s
- first floor. If you like the look of the place, perhaps we can
- convince the chef to take on an assistant.” ~ Tess watched her adviser from her position on one end of
- the plush chaise lounge in her office, who returned her stare
- impassively as they sat in the adjoining armchair to her
- right. The ornate coffee table before them had been laid out
- for tea, but the other cup remained untouched, which was in
- itself unusual. Ink rarely turned down tea when it was
- offered, which likely meant they were preoccupied with
- something they were unwilling to discuss. This had been
- happening more frequently since their plans to intercept the
- Ginnarak Crystals, which was a little concerning, but she knew
- it would be no use to question them directly. The missive she
- had received this time through Piskin’s people was brief,
- almost annoyingly so, but they had returned earlier than
- expected with the articles that production had requested,
- which had fortunately made up for lost time from the previous
- delays. With this in mind, she settled on a lighter note as she
- picked up her own teacup. “Salvia passed on the items to the
- production team. Thank you for picking them up from the
- Runesocesius. I would send my regular couriers but they are
- tied up with another event. One of them had to care for their
- sick child and couldn’t leave the city. As usual, time and
- discretion are of the essence.” When her adviser only nodded, she continued. “How is he? He
- probably insisted on bringing the manuscripts out for you
- himself. The man is cautious with valuables.” “Quite dead but managing, or so I heard.” Ink intoned
- drily. Tess caught on immediately. “Didn’t you meet with him? The
- message only mentioned the items had been obtained. Did
- something happen?” The imp shrugged. “We met, I delivered the letter and
- collected the items. We didn’t get a chance to talk.” The hotel was slowly but steadily attracting visitors
- again, especially after their last play had prominently
- featured the Runesocesius Library as a research partner in the
- programme credits, but Tess didn’t think the hotelier was so
- busy as to entrust this task to one of his underlings. The man
- was proud of the first editions the library had amassed, and
- the notebooks of Lucidieau that the playwright sought as a
- reference were no doubt counted among the treasures, even if
- only an expensive commissioned facsimile was permitted out of
- the library. Something had happened, she was sure, but decided
- not to press further for the moment. “And the other matter?” she asked. “Someone already knew the crystal was at the hotel and
- retained a crew of cyberplasmic pirates to storm the place.”
- Ink replied flatly. “And yes, your acquaintance is very much
- dead, shot by the crew leader in the scuffle. As the rumour
- rags have it, his ghost is now overseeing the building
- repairs.” Tess was about to admonish the imp gently for the tasteless
- jest when there was a knock at the door. At her response, the
- door opened and her secretary entered with a box of pastries
- and two sets of tableware, which she placed on the coffee
- table before leaving and closing the door behind her. Noticing Ink’s look of recognition, Tess smiled and
- ventured, “This is the second time is as many months you
- awarded that empanada place a glowing review in The Tiny
- Toaster. I can count the ratings higher than a 10 you’ve
- ever given on one hand — of course I had to try it. Why don’t
- you have some as well?” Ink blinked. “I didn’t write the latest review.” Tess shot them an accusing mock-glare as she lifted a puffy
- golden brown pastry onto a plate. “It has your inkprints all
- over it.” “I don’t know what you mean. Surely I’m allowed to treat a
- colleague to lunch, and they are free to express their
- satisfaction with a meal openly if they wish,” Ink replied
- smoothly. Tess rolled her eyes. “There’s a name for that. It’s called
- bribery.” Ink smiled faintly. “Just so. However, the selection speaks
- for itself.” “Oh, absolutely! These mini ambrose apple empanadas are
- wonderful. In fact,” Tess prodded the open end of the pastry
- with her fork, where a light yellow filling was visible, “they
- remind me a little of the very crispy tortelli
- someone made several years ago just for the opening
- reception of The Two Genteelkin of Virdantha.” “Any resemblance is coincidental. The chef is very
- capable.” Ink said evenly. Tess sighed and returned her plate to the table. “We’ve
- talked about this before, Ink. You don’t have to hole up in
- some poor scrub’s excuse for a kitchen in a closet. If you
- need more room downstairs then expand it. Just tell Salvia and
- she’ll take care of it.” Ink lowered their gaze to the teacups. “I appreciate the
- offer, but the answer is the same. There will be no rest until
- the crystals are secured.” Some time passes. The hemogoblin turns out to be a fine housemate and less of
- a problem than you thought it would be. Be it because its not
- in the excitement of battle onboard a pirate ship, or be it
- because it is maturing slightly, it seems in better control of
- its blood sacs. Barring a few small accidents, it doesn’t make
- much of a mess. It has found and claimed as its own a few
- unused blankets, and has made a little burrow nest in an out
- of the way corner behind the furniture. Bread makes a full recovery and in fact is doing better
- than ever before. The blood goblin stays by their side during
- the first hours and days and keeps them pumped full of clean,
- synthetic blood. Afterwards the toque is flushed a healthy
- pink and has new vigor. Enrique takes them under his tutelage.
- And Bread ends up making a fine baker’s apprentice. Dough
- seems to rise more and quicker after he kneads it. “The lad
- has solar hands,” Enrique boasts of his new protegee. Confidence becomes enthralled with the semi-sentient
- Wandering Bazaar. The thirteen story building moves with
- glacial speed up and down the streets, vendors and stalls and
- shoppers following in its wake. But then also it will
- disappear in the blink of an eye only to reappear in a totally
- different part of the area known as the Wandering Bazaar
- District. Each floor of the tall, narrow tower is occupied
- entirely by a single shop. But which shop it is seems to vary
- from day to day. One day the seventh level will be occupied by
- Fedik’s Butcher shop. And the next, Lario’s Bakery. It might
- be days or weeks before one can once again buy hotlinks from
- Fedik’s. Where the shops go when they’re not here is one of
- Basmentaria’s great mysteries. The toque studies the Bazaar’s movements and are able to
- predict its route with more and more accuracy. They become a
- highly sought out guide. Tourists and visitors trust them to
- take them to the very spot the Bazaar will appear that day.
- Residents appreciate the heads up and not getting trapped in
- their houses when the Bazaar wedges its way into their narrow
- residential streets, blocking their front doors. And owners of
- traditional, less ambulatory shops are able to plan ahead for
- the crowds that will appear on “Bazaar Day”. ~ Members of the Retrieval Team who sleep in Milk Market HQ
- start having dreams of the same mysterious figure. Of course
- at first nobody knows their dreams are shared by the others.
- Not until they become more frequent, more regular. By the time
- the figure has visited you every night for nearly a week,
- somebody speaks up and you realize the coincidence. The figure is clad in voluminous robes of deep purple.
- Long, straight, blonde hair falls around their shoulders.
- Their soft features are boyish and womanly. They wear a golden
- circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their
- forehead. Their passive, neutral face betrays no emotion the
- entire time. The dream is always the same. They reach out to you with
- one hand and turn their palm up. And because of dream logic,
- in the palm of their hand you can hear the jingling of coins,
- mirthful laughter, and hushed stories told around a campfire.
- They curl their fingers into a loose first and the sounds
- stop. They spread their arms wide and in the folds of their
- robes you can see three siblings fighting, squabbling over a
- broken loom. Then you’re standing next to them, and the two of you watch
- three friends, Snake, Owl, and Dolphin. Owl tells Snake that
- he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t want to be an
- owl any more, he wants to be flowers. And Snake laughs and
- tells him that he is Owl, and an owl he must remain. And she
- leaves him to go eat rodents and bake in the sun. So Owl tells
- Dolphin that he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t
- want to be an owl any more, he wants to be flowers. Dolphin
- doesn’t want to help Owl, because if he is flowers, they won’t
- be able to be together any longer. But Dolphin finally agrees
- to help even though they don’t want to, because Dolphin loves
- Owl. With all their strength, they create a great waterspout
- that will turn Owl into flowers. But the waterspout is too
- strong, and Dolphin is too weak to control it. It sprays Owl
- but does not turn him into flowers. Owl’s wing is broken and
- he falls to the ground in a heap of feathers. The waterspout
- shakes a great boulder from the earth and traps Snake under
- it. And Dolphin sinks to the bottom of the sea. And then you wake up. ~ Later you find a letter in the common area of Milk Market
- HQ. It is not addressed to anybody. When you open it up, it
- reads: Time is running out, Retrieval Team 43. Things are starting
- to draw to a close. We cannot delay our meeting any longer if
- we both are to achieve our goals. We have information that you
- are looking for. Meet us at the Harpoon Club next Selday. We
- will wear the sign. The letter is signed with a white iris and golden
- apple. Anyone in Vay’Nullar would be able to tell you that the
- Harpoon Club is a game room and fine dining club, and one of
- the rotating tenants of the Wandering Bazaar. But Confidence
- would tell you, were you to ask them, that the club won’t be
- there next Selday. (When the Bazaar will appear at East and
- Lowland.) It is in fact not scheduled to appear until a week
- and a half after next Selday, on Third Tensday. (When the
- Bazaar will appear at Cathedral and Pine.) WHAT DO YOU DO00067
+
+
+
+
+Afterword
00060
-
-
- "sgb rpthqqbk hr qba sgb fgnrsr dktb
-sgb qnkkr rwbbs uma rn uqb ynt
-sgnt uqs ly fthahmf rsuq ul h sghmb
-h rbb vbqhky ly utrohehntr rhfm
-sgb kns wur snrra uma sgbm h aqbw
-uma cnqstmb ruha hs rgnta db ynt ott"[1]
+ [1]:
-"The squirrel is red, the ghost's blue,
-The roll's sweet, and so are you.
-Thou art my guiding star, am I thine?
-I see verily my auspicious sign:
-The lot was toss'd and then I drew,
-And Fortune said it shou'd be you. Puu."find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
-
- 00059
-
+
- The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet.
-Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the "Milk Market" these past few days.
-Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends.
-Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors
-Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal
-Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advised
+ #!/bin/ash
+sleepy=true
+
+sleep() {
+ while sleepy; do
+ sleep(10)
+ done
+}
+
+trap sleep INT EXIT
+
+
+
-
+
+ 4 -> 3
+Daylight breaks on the morrow
+The suns rays make chase
+casting soft cloth
+across the nap of nature's neck
+
+So, night relents and gives way
+biding time until
+it can rule
+in its own domain
+
+
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
- 00067
+
-
-
-
-
+
+
+ <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
+-> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
+
+CLEARANCE: INFORMATIONAL
+REQUEST ENCLOSED.
+
+REQUESTING PERMISSION TO IMPOUND OR OPERATE.
+ONE CYBERPLASM AIRSHIP "The Rusty Maiden"
+ <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
+-> OP 41154 * LOC ESPER
+
+CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET
+REQUEST ENCLOSED
+PACKET ENCLOSED
+
+REQUESTING ANALYSIS
+ONE GDB @gdb-readout.dat
+TWO BLOOD @blood-soaked-handkerchief
+NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ "sgb rpthqqbk hr qba sgb fgnrsr dktb
+sgb qnkkr rwbbs uma rn uqb ynt
+sgnt uqs ly fthahmf rsuq ul h sghmb
+h rbb vbqhky ly utrohehntr rhfm
+sgb kns wur snrra uma sgbm h aqbw
+uma cnqstmb ruha hs rgnta db ynt ott"[1]
+ [1]:
+"The squirrel is red, the ghost's blue,
+The roll's sweet, and so are you.
+Thou art my guiding star, am I thine?
+I see verily my auspicious sign:
+The lot was toss'd and then I drew,
+And Fortune said it shou'd be you. Puu."
+
+ 00056
-
+ The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet.
+Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the "Milk Market" these past few days.
+Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends.
+Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors
+Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal
+Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advised
-
-
- 4 -> 3
-Daylight breaks on the morrow
-The suns rays make chase
-casting soft cloth
-across the nap of nature's neck
-
-So, night relents and gives way
-biding time until
-it can rule
-in its own domain
-
-
-
- ]]>
-
-
-
- #!/bin/ash
-sleepy=true
-
-sleep() {
- while sleepy; do
- sleep(10)
- done
-}
-
-trap sleep INT EXIT
-
-
-
-
+ find /* -name '*acron*' -exec mv /home/squirrel { } \
-
-
- Island tower of towers
-Nowhere everywhere the sea
-Keep your apples and flowers
-Your suitor has come for thee
-
-
-
-
+ cat > /home/inky/messages/urgent <<EOF
-Got your message
-In a bit of a bind, wrapped up with some weird mushroom guy who wants to go for a swim.
-Not sure how to handle it, but I might have to dip back to the real world and let you finish here.
-I've made a write mess of things, but I trust you can finish this.
-
-Oh, see attached, if you get into a pinch just use this spell, it'll get you what you need.
-
-grep -A4 AID ~/messages/urgent | sed 's/AID//' | sh
-
-AID
-4b1af3fcf4ce005ef86d83c45713ba1a548b4e79da09a6d44632cdb6c5917489
-d7d500fa37b986d931b70e114b4e67375b10b373aa6649641e7132e8b3dc7d18
-ef6efe98ffd070f486c00b4f50d8bf1448414ef9c2fabe0cacd40bebafba8a02
-1d0d1bf0188b842d9ae08b9b37b0f266936ef38b8f07e5c90e4a9351bf018898
-EOF
+
+
+ Island tower of towers
+Nowhere everywhere the sea
+Keep your apples and flowers
+Your suitor has come for thee
+
+
+
+
+ cat > /home/inky/messages/urgent <<EOF
+Got your message
+In a bit of a bind, wrapped up with some weird mushroom guy who wants to go for a swim.
+Not sure how to handle it, but I might have to dip back to the real world and let you finish here.
+I've made a write mess of things, but I trust you can finish this.
+
+Oh, see attached, if you get into a pinch just use this spell, it'll get you what you need.
+
+grep -A4 AID ~/messages/urgent | sed 's/AID//' | sh
+
+AID
+4b1af3fcf4ce005ef86d83c45713ba1a548b4e79da09a6d44632cdb6c5917489
+d7d500fa37b986d931b70e114b4e67375b10b373aa6649641e7132e8b3dc7d18
+ef6efe98ffd070f486c00b4f50d8bf1448414ef9c2fabe0cacd40bebafba8a02
+1d0d1bf0188b842d9ae08b9b37b0f266936ef38b8f07e5c90e4a9351bf018898
+EOF
-
-
- <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
--> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
-
-CLEARANCE: INFORMATIONAL
-REQUEST ENCLOSED.
-
-REQUESTING PERMISSION TO IMPOUND OR OPERATE.
-ONE CYBERPLASM AIRSHIP "The Rusty Maiden"
- <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
--> OP 41154 * LOC ESPER
-
-CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET
-REQUEST ENCLOSED
-PACKET ENCLOSED
-
-REQUESTING ANALYSIS
-ONE GDB @gdb-readout.dat
-TWO BLOOD @blood-soaked-handkerchief
-NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY
-
-
-
-
Total length: 85483 words / 365 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the +
Total length: 87088 words / 372 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)
-There have been 228 messages posted over 229 days since the first -post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .99.
+There have been 235 messages posted over 231 days since the first +post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of 1.01.
This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.
Jump to: 1 2
WHAT DO YOU DO In the fish market, the dreamers continue to sleep soundly through
+the ringing claxon alarms with nothing but maybe the twitch of a finger
+to indicate that they hear anything at all. During the commotion with Marvelo and Gliftwirp, nobody but Rind
+noticed the thick rusty nail in the side of the candle wiggle its way
+out of the soft wax and clatter onto the plate at the base of the
+candle, the ringing of tin masked by the ringing of the claxon
+alarm. Still the dreamers sleep. Rind watches as the candle burns dangerously low. The mummified hand
+of the Nyxmaer in the base of the candle starts to wriggle, struggle,
+and strain against the softening wax. It stretches and reaches for the
+eye in the center of the candle. Rind continues to soothe the duck and stroke its feathers. The child
+looks at the space where Gliftwirp and the hemogoblin stumbled into the
+circle, smudging the line of salt and ash, breaking the circle and
+severing its continuity. Making a small space for something to get in.
+Or out. “Yo! Little cavatappi dude, where the hell are we?!” Alex’s eyes scan
+the room rapidly. There’s no water, aside from what he dragged in with
+his abrupt departure from the pier. The dark sky stretches into the
+nothingness of the void. Asthe robed figure begins speaks Alex takes
+note of his situation. ‘Nowhere to hide, zero cover. A whole lot of nothing actually. It’s
+one thing after another with this dream thing.’ As the figure finishes his address Alex nods politely. “I’ll be
+honest my guy, I haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about. Looks
+to me you’ve got the whole sword thing, all I’ve got is my trusty AK. I
+guess back top side, in umm I guess the real world, I did find a wonky
+dagger my uncle tried to hide. But I’m pretty sure that got eaten by a
+cute little hemogoblin while I was busy murdering ghost pirates. Anyways
+more to the point, I’m not quite sure I follow.” Alex pauses briefly and then continues, “You say you need to get out
+of here? Now that part I follow, me the hell too. I just got attacked by
+some freaky sadist mushroom that called itself katsuva. Cut its head
+clean off just so it could try and chuck me in the drink. Right
+unpleasant fella, but I think I lost him when, well, I got here,
+wherever that is.” “Now I don’t know much, but I’m not much for trust after getting
+attacked by a talking mushroom monster. So if you’ll excuse me, I reckon
+the exit is right about that way (Alex jabs his finger over his back
+away from the figure), and I’m inclined to head out unless you know a
+better way.” You weren’t in the kobit caves with the rest of Retrieval Team 43, so
+you didn’t see the reliefs. But every Basmentarian is familiar with the
+iconography of the Trine. This figure is dressed in the traditional
+rainments of Neddas, god of sages and starlight. Furthermore you
+recognize them from your dreams in the Milk Market. Kasutva the small mushroom meeps and hides behind your leg. “You know, we each of us loved you in our own way,” Neddas says. “But
+of the three of us, I alone gave away pieces of my divinity. I wanted to
+see you thrive and grow strong. “You’ve already found several pieces of my essence. Coin in
+the treasure hoard below the earth. Mirth in the shipwreck
+under the sea. And lore in the clouds atop Kelsun Peak. “And of course you found justice,” they say, looking at the
+sword. “This one got a little weird.” The frown. “Became a little
+sentient, didn’t it?” They press the blade of the sword to their chest
+and absorb it into their being. They sigh happily. “You have found enough of my essence that I am able to start to
+materialize again. Not quite in Basmentaria yet. But here, a little
+bit. “There are still two more pieces out there. If you can reunite all
+five crystals, I will be able to cross over into Basmentaria again. “So yes, Alex. You are correct. It is time you head out. Return to
+Basmentaria. Find the remaining crystals, so that I may return and right
+the wrongs of the past. I will do what I can to assist you.” Inky waves back once, twice in greeting, before crossing their
+forefingers twice, touching a hand briefly to their chest, and strolling
+towards the restrooms. Leaning against a wall outside of the rest area, out of sight from
+the main dining hall, Inky pulls out the message from Master Alex and
+reads it. Engagement confirmed, it seems. Also in the envelope is a
+smooth oval grey pebble with the letters “sh” carved onto it. A mini
+dousojin. How considerate of him. Putting the envelope and pebble into a shorts pocket, Inky holds up a
+chewy blood berry biscuit, which they offer to the great horned owl
+patiently perched on their shoulder. “What if we just zip out now and
+have a walk around the towers? Do you think it will cause offence to the
+Grand Master of the realm?” Inky asks her. Fuko looks up from her treat
+and gives them a short series of disapproving clicks of her beak. “He wants more ‘intel’,” Inky says. It isn’t even a question. On another occasion they would be glad to see Master Corraidhn
+animated and well — when there wasn’t a demanding curmudgeon on the
+other end of an absurd fishing expedition. The elder sysorcerer’s
+presence in the Dreaming, illusion or otherwise, has effectively dashed
+any prospect of an early night out. “Thirteen minutes. Only because Scoops likes you.” Inky tells the
+owl. They look down at their shirt with orange horizontal stripes, blue
+knee-length shorts, blue running shoes, and wordlessly declare the
+change of clothes suitable for fine non-dining. The noogle’s drawstring
+pouch is knotted to a metal hoop on a pocket flap to one side of their
+shorts, having let loose a short mop of tousled red hair. A plush floofy
+duck keychain dangles next to the pouch. Emerging from the hallway, the awkward, skinny youth with an owl
+approaches the far corner table. You approach the far corner table, weaving your way through the
+crowded tables of the Harpoon Club. “Inky!” Blavin chorttles merrily as you pull up a chair. The cat
+person nods politely at you and starts rebuilding the block tower. Corraidhín watches the archway behind you as you enter. When nobody
+follows you into the Harpoon Club he frowns, tugs on his beard, and sits
+up straighter in his chair. “You’re alone?” Blavin observes. “No matter. Thank you so much for
+meeting us here! I trust it wasn’t too much trouble? A little bit out of
+the way, I know. But it is so very hard to find a place away from prying
+eyes, isn’t it?” “Get to the point, Blavin.” snaps Corraidhín. “Quite right!” laughs Blavin, taking a sip of his drink. “Listen,” he
+says, suddenly very serious. “It’s time I came clean to you. You deserve
+that much. And besides, I think we can help each other. While it is true
+that I work for the Benefactor, I don’t actually serve their interests.
+You see, I represent another party. A double agent they would
+call me in the spy novels.” He waves his hand dismissively, as though
+somebody were making a fuss over him and he were embarrassed. “As I’m sure you already know, our organization is called the Golden
+Iris. Like the Benefactor, our goal is to collect the Ginnarak Cystals.
+I know you’ve heard all the old stories. Together they could kill a
+god, blah blah blah.” He sloshes his drink as the gestures. “But we
+think they’ve got it all wrong, Inky. That is, they have it
+backwards at least!” Blavin leans in, his eyes shining. “The Golden Iris intends nothing
+less than creating a new god!” “The Trine has been absent for years. We’re going to restore the
+balance. Now you see why the mission is so important, Inky. We need the
+crystals.” “Now I know what you’re going to say! It all sounds too fantastic.
+Yes well, that’s why I brought along somebody whose credibility I know
+you’ll trust!” He beams at Corraidhín. The wizard sighs. “As far as I can tell, the hobbit is telling the
+truth.” Blavin grins as Corraidhín continues. “The Golden Iris is trying to elevate Sitopotnia, the Corn Mother, to
+godhood. Which I admit makes a certain kind of sense. She’s the only
+mortal to have created life after all. Kind of the ideal candidate for
+the job to be honest. They’ve hitched an odd team of mules to their buggy to help them. And
+they’re managing to drag the thing forward despite all pulling in
+slightly different directions. The Cyberplasms want new bodies. The Gnu
+Zealots want to open source the process so everybody can create new
+gods. And I don’t actually know what the BAND wackos want.” Corraidhín shrugs, “I don’t have a particular dog in this fight. The
+Benefactor was able to excise the, ahem, ‘anomaly’ that happened at the
+SS RSS. Including the second crystal, which is currently in his
+possession, and my body, which is still technically back at the
+institute and still under the care of Felixe here.” The black cat gives
+another polite nod. Having completed building the tumbling tower, it is
+now shuffling the tumbrot cards, face down, around on the table. “Felixe is Basmentaria’s preeminent expert in preserving entities
+that happen to exist between two states. Or that happen to exist in two
+states at the same time.. Bah, it’s complicated,” Corraidhín huffs. “Yes!” interrupts Blavin. “Now! Despite working closely with him all
+this time, I am actually none the wiser as to the Benefactor’s actual
+plans for the crystals. I just know we need them more. “Inky, you must retrieve the remaining crystals. And also the one in
+the Benefactor’s possession. And deliver them to us so we may usher in a
+new age for Basmentaria!” Felixe the cat deals the cards out to the center of the table, face
+down, in a cross. Three across, three high. It sets the remainder of the
+deck aside and looks at you expectantly. WHAT DO YOU DO?00067
+
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+
+
+Spoilers