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@ -16,6 +16,7 @@ src/chapter1.md
src/epistolary/index.md
src/epistolary/00021.md
src/epistolary/00022.md
src/epistolary/00023.md
src/bestiary/index.md
src/bestiary/aur.md
src/bestiary/blahoblin.md

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@ -3,6 +3,7 @@ title: 00022
created: Thu, 06 Oct 2022 07:38:24 -0600
updated: Sun, 16 Oct 2022 10:15:14 -0600
public: yes
syndicated: yes
---
### 00022 {#00022}

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@ -0,0 +1,65 @@
---
title: 00023
created: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600
updated: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600
public: yes
syndicated: yes
---
### 00023 {#00023}
> Why no, we don't mind much about competition, certainly nothing wrong. Can't imagine someone to put all of their eggs in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is so valuable.
>
> That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these crystals if he's willing to send out team after team. I mean, we're team 43, that's a lot of people to pay and a lot of eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in retrieving them?
"Oh, no no no, child," Blavin titters as he takes a sip of his ever-present martini. "You must understand, the Benefactor is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages! There are---and have been!---many other retrieval teams, yes. But not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I arrived on the scene." He winks at you conspiratorially.
> I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these crystals aren't meant to go anywhere.
>
> Now I'm not trying to point fingers here, morality is many shades of gray, and it isn't really my job to suss out what you're doing. But I'm a curious sysorceor, and when I see a chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There's something here you're not telling us, and I for one and keen to know it.
"I wouldn't worry your wizened old brow about it," Blavin chuckles, sloshing his drink. "The Benefactor's concern is precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their well of concentrated arcane energies. They're dangerous just sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come across one and use it for nefarious purposes."
Yam'L's eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere suggestion of evil.
"Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?" Blavin shudders with revulsion. "My word, man! Do you really think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak Crystal? Surely not!"
"No," he sits back with a satisfied smile, "I think we must all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy them safely!"
> META: I'm gonna preface the sword speech with this to make it quicker to write
>
> **Y'aml**
> I like what you're putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I'm positive nobody will mind. Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little stab~
>
> **Corraidhin to Y'aml**
> Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were borrowing something that had been cast on the ground, abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we can't just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you're a sword, and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y'aml I think we're out of luck here.
Yam'L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion. "CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!" it cries directly into your mind. It squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration. With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.
"There!" it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily. "Now, Hardy Bear. You promised.." it continues, its eye glinting with growing ferocity. "Let's. STAB. THE HOBBIT!"
> While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal's secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the table.
>
> They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now occupied a small office to one side of the building complete with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate with words by making them little croutons etched with letters, but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.
Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at Blavin's table at Lucy's Basement, cleaning its feathers and chortling merrily to itself.
You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with that.
> A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor's gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over Master Corraidhín's shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand. They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.
You note on Blavin's map that the Hemogoblin region is indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it's not that far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing than the milk you've been feeding the thirsty sword thus far.
Or, at the very least, you'll get a new variant of the blood pudding recipe you've been working on!
> Maybe someone else's mood will be improved in the meantime? Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles. Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably inedible) that simply read "BACK SOON :)". A tapa recipe, which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying, was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and sandalwood ink.
Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking the next day's breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room. Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the recipe.
He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some veggies and starts pan frying them.
Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.
\> A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?
[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00008.html)

140
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@ -240,6 +240,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#00021" id="toc-00021">00021</a></li>
<li><a href="#00022" id="toc-00022">00022</a></li>
<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -249,7 +250,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 18235 words / 77 minutes</p>
<p>Total length: 19526 words / 83 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -2266,6 +2267,143 @@ have found a crystal at the top of Kelsun Peak!”</p>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly nothing
wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs in one basket,
especially when whatever it is they desire is so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these crystals
if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean, we’re team 43,
that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of eagerness to find these
crystals. Why is that? What benefit are these shiny rocks to them? What
even is their purpose in retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of his
ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor is a
singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages! There are—and
have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But not all of them have
been for the crystals. And some of them were formed, active, and
disbanded long before you or I arrived on the scene.” He winks at you
conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to bypass, the
cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and the gigantic moth
monster that rested beneath it, that these crystals aren’t meant to go
anywhere.</p>
<p>Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many shades of
gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what you’re doing. But I’m
a curious sysorceor, and when I see a chance to learn I seize upon the
moment. There’s something here you’re not telling us, and I for one and
keen to know it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin chuckles,
sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is precisely the same as
yours! These items are of enormous cultural and historical significance,
to say nothing of their well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re
dangerous just sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere suggestion of
evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?” Blavin
shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really think such an
overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for a beloved and dangerous
cultural icon such as the Ginnarak Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must all agree
that they are safer in the public collection of a competent and
benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make it quicker
to write</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY evil.
Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them without being evil.
I say we stab him, nice and good, right in the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times.
I’m positive nobody will mind. Evil people steal things, we saw that
inky creature stealing things from that vault, definitely evil.
(singsong) Evil evil evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with
every little stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Y’aml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were borrowing
something that had been cast on the ground, abandoned. Giving a tea set
a good home is far from evil. But you might be onto something about this
Blavin fellow, but we can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides
you’re a sword, and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think we’re out of
luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion. “CHALLENGE
ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It squeezes its eye shut
and trembles with intense concentration. With great effort, the sword
shrinks itself down to the size of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off
into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily. “Now, Hardy
Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye glinting with growing
ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s secrets, Inky let
their attention wander slightly around the table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being most wise
and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the crystal before they set
off on their next mission. The party had also befriended the duck
unofficially dubbed their marketing manager after the fluffy little
creature had trailed Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said
creature now occupied a small office to one side of the building
complete with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms it
can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate with words by
making them little croutons etched with letters, but the only ones they
would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk Market and
seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at Blavin’s table at
Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and chortling merrily to
itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and bits of
soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten used to the
glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s gleaming sword and resisted
returning the stare with an eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their
case manager over Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a
conversation they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale
coffin sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was said
to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand. They might be
able to find some at the town of Plasma, which sits by the Hartlands on
the way to the shipwreck. It seems the milky blood pudding could do with
some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is indeed on the
way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that far out of the way. You
reckon their synthetic blood product would indeed be a much better
substitute for the real thing than the milk you’ve been feeding the
thirsty sword thus far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the blood pudding
recipe you’ve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime? Before
setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped into the
kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a trick-and-treat. A
plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop
a new pair of Blueberry oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling
green turtles. Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe, which included
a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying, was printed on the
reverse in neat blocky letters and sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking the next
day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully when he sees yet
another mysterious gift from across the room. Again? What little elf
must have taken up residence in his shop? But his face cracks into a
smile when he sees the presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile
becomes a bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he skims the
note and looks through his pantry. He chops some veggies and starts pan
frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he pulls on the
new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>

497
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@ -156,5 +156,502 @@
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>23</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">23 - Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 22 Oct 2022 09:36:52 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly
nothing wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs
in one basket, especially when whatever it is they desire is
so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these
crystals if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean,
we’re team 43, that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of
eagerness to find these crystals. Why is that? What benefit
are these shiny rocks to them? What even is their purpose in
retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of
his ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor
is a singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages!
There are—and have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But
not all of them have been for the crystals. And some of them
were formed, active, and disbanded long before you or I
arrived on the scene.” He winks at you conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to
bypass, the cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and
the gigantic moth monster that rested beneath it, that these
crystals aren’t meant to go anywhere.</p>
<p>Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many
shades of gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what
you’re doing. But I’m a curious sysorceor, and when I see a
chance to learn I seize upon the moment. There’s something
here you’re not telling us, and I for one and keen to know
it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin
chuckles, sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is
precisely the same as yours! These items are of enormous
cultural and historical significance, to say nothing of their
well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re dangerous just
sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere
suggestion of evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?”
Blavin shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really
think such an overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for
a beloved and dangerous cultural icon such as the Ginnarak
Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must
all agree that they are safer in the public collection of a
competent and benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy
them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make
it quicker to write</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY
evil. Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them
without being evil. I say we stab him, nice and good, right in
the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times. I’m positive nobody will mind.
Evil people steal things, we saw that inky creature stealing
things from that vault, definitely evil. (singsong) Evil evil
evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with every little
stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Y’aml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were
borrowing something that had been cast on the ground,
abandoned. Giving a tea set a good home is far from evil. But
you might be onto something about this Blavin fellow, but we
can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides you’re a sword,
and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think
we’re out of luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion.
“CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It
squeezes its eye shut and trembles with intense concentration.
With great effort, the sword shrinks itself down to the size
of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily.
“Now, Hardy Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye
glinting with growing ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s
secrets, Inky let their attention wander slightly around the
table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being
most wise and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the
crystal before they set off on their next mission. The party
had also befriended the duck unofficially dubbed their
marketing manager after the fluffy little creature had trailed
Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said creature now
occupied a small office to one side of the building complete
with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms
it can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate
with words by making them little croutons etched with letters,
but the only ones they would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk
Market and seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at
Blavin’s table at Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and
chortling merrily to itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and
bits of soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with
that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten
used to the glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s
gleaming sword and resisted returning the stare with an
eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their case manager over
Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a conversation
they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale coffin
sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was
said to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand.
They might be able to find some at the town of Plasma, which
sits by the Hartlands on the way to the shipwreck. It seems
the milky blood pudding could do with some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is
indeed on the way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that
far out of the way. You reckon their synthetic blood product
would indeed be a much better substitute for the real thing
than the milk you’ve been feeding the thirsty sword thus
far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the
blood pudding recipe you’ve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime?
Before setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped
into the kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a
trick-and-treat. A plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost
pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop a new pair of Blueberry
oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling green turtles.
Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe,
which included a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying,
was printed on the reverse in neat blocky letters and
sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking
the next day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully
when he sees yet another mysterious gift from across the room.
Again? What little elf must have taken up residence in his
shop? But his face cracks into a smile when he sees the
presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile becomes a
bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he
skims the note and looks through his pantry. He chops some
veggies and starts pan frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he
pulls on the new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>22</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">22 - Thu, 06 Oct 2022 07:38:24
-0600</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 16 Oct 2022 10:15:14 -0600</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00022">00022</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky gathers up the teacups, trying to remember a few tips
about reading tea leaves from a forest fae they had met a few
times while foraging and who had insisted on giving lessons to
any wanderersby. (Of course he was just being a hospitable
host to thirsty travellers and certainly not because he
delighted in the confused expressions on their faces the
entire time.)</p>
<p>Turning the cups left and right, Inky gradually sees a
web-like hub, a looping line attached to an I-shaped apparatus
on one end, an abacus, a wide building (possibly a stadium or
arena), a feline animal resembling a tiger or lynx, and a long
feather. Feathers and beads are commonly added to small
trinkets with simple animal designs and sold as lucky charms
at the market … an auspicious sign?</p>
<p>Or it should be. Inky’s thoughts circle back to the little
glass pebble, after returning from the market with, among
other items, more vegetables than they could possibly eat in a
month excluding the beatfruits. Inky still hasn’t decided
whether accidentally finding out about being cursed — by a
potion, the irony! — counts as an auspicious event. One of the
produce vendors and attendant at the market had casually
mentioned the proximity to the next full moon while Inky had
been looking over the leafy greens. Several blatant attempts
to boost sales later (“Them barley’s hoppin’ good fer tea!”),
the vendor revealed that their little grandson Harry had “got
the weres” as a toddler and his parents had found a
strange-looking glass marble in his mouth, much like the one
inside the bottle hanging from a chain on Inky’s vest, and
wouldn’t they like some more tomatoes for a blushing
bunny?</p>
<p>From further inquiries, an ink depot on the opposite side
of the city confirmed they sold Flat 12 potions as inks many
years ago when showing off transmogrification through letters
was a popular pastime, but had ceased carrying them due to
limited range, lack of demand, as well as the bottles’
tendency to randomly break or their contents to fizzle out.
(That and complaints about the overly persistent effects of
said contents on unsuspecting recipients long after the fad
that inspired them had faded led ink traders to shun the
were-hare potions.) In contrast, the Mountain Range potions
were far more stable and instead of shapeshifting, had the
ability to stave off the cold under frigid temperatures,
though its effects would likely be less enduring. Like the
Flat 12, the Mountains are potions, but one in particular of a
sparkling deep blue hue became its signature colour among ink
enthusiasts.</p>
<p>Sipping a cup of turmeric tisane in a late night tea ritual
for one, Inky supposes it hasn’t been much different since the
accident than the jars of preserves and the “Now with 25% more
celery!” labels on them. While immeasurably better than
spontaneously combusting into burnt popcorn, it would be best
to keep a Farmers’ Almanac within reach. Who knows when a mail
order cure-all tonic will come in handy in the middle of
Nowere?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You see a complex vision in the bottom of the jade teacups,
and learn a little bit about the inks you found.</p>
<p>You grab a copy of the Farmers Almanac to keep on hand.</p>
<p>On your way back from the market, a small duck waddles onto
the sidewalk and starts following you.</p>
<pre><code>・゜゜・。。・゜゜\_o&lt; QUACK!</code></pre>
<p>It is small and yellow and cute, and has a little floofy
tuft of feathers on the very top of its head.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Meta: one of my best friends name is Kevin, so I find it
extra amusing that the sysorceor is named Kevin.</p>
<p>Kev my friend! You know nobodies going to take on KDL until
YOU make it a priority to them. A little bit of force, you
just need to put it directly into the sysorceory course
curriculum while nobody is knowing. Then once it’s in
production they won’t have a say whether to learn it or not!
That’s at least how I got that delightfully licorice tasting
incantation in production laster year, much to the chagrin of
those who don’t have a taste for Fennel. I for one was
delighted with it.</p>
<p>“Corraidhin, STAB HIM, that suggestion, he’s definitely
going to do something evil with it”</p>
<p>Corraidhin mutters under his breath about the swords
insistence to stab everything. Soon my friend, soon.</p>
<p>Kev gives Corraidhin as quizzical look, “are you alright
buddy? You’ve been off ever since you got back from that last
on site deployment.”</p>
<p>Oh yes, yes, I’m fine. A little worse for wear physically,
but mentally sharp as a tack! And I got this wonderful sword
from the entire thing! Though I dare not unsheath it right
now, it appears to be controlled by some sort of sentience,
like a magical AI. And it has the damndest urge to stab
things. I really need to be careful right now.</p>
<p>After visiting with Kev Corraidhin wanders back into town,
away from the spiral towers of the sysoceorers guild. It was
nice to be home for a bit. On the way in he spies Jarrod and
Inky, the former cleaning up a dusty old building with Milk
something on the front side, and the later kicking back and
enjoying a cup of freshly brewed tea. Corraidhin hails them
both.</p>
<p>“A new /home for you then Jarrod?”</p>
<p>“Aye a /home indeed, though it’s a bit large and empty for
just myself. I’ll need guests and patrons, thinking I may be
able to setup a shop, but at the least all of our team is
welcome here!”</p>
<p>“Delightful! If nobody has claimed it I’ll take the
upstairs loft.”</p>
<p>“You most certainly can! But in exchange, I’d be curious to
render your services, see I’ve been meaning to get this
braclet enchanted for a while now, something to amplify my
natural charm perhaps?”</p>
<p>“You sir, have a deal, I’ll even throw in a warding on Milk
Base Alpha!”</p>
<p>Corraidhin begins invoking an arcane warding spell:</p>
<pre><code>sudo chown jarrod:team43 /home/Milk_Base_Alpha
sudo chmod 770 /home/Milk_Base_Alpha/*</code></pre>
<p>“There we go, that should keep out any unwanted critters,
though be sure to invite our friends here as well. Corraidhin
teaches Jarrod a quick incantation of invitation,
<code>sudo usermod -a -G team43 $user</code>, just be sure to
say that making the proper arcane hand signs as you do it, and
they’ll be able to enter the house and take up residence!”</p>
<p>Corraidhin gathers himself and heads upstairs to his new
attaic abode, it’s small, and dusty, but there’s enough room
for a simple work bench, a bookshelf, and a bed and a chest.
This is exactly as Corraidhin prefers, small and simple, it
clears the mind and helps one focus. Invoking another
incantation Corraidhin fills the bookshelf, chest, and
workbench with his various tools and reference manuals.</p>
<pre><code>scp sysorceor.guild:/home/corraidhin/bookshelf milkbase.alpha:/home/corraidhin/bookshelf
scp sysorceor.guild:/home/corraidhin/workbench milkbase.alpha:/home/corraidhin/workbench
scp sysorceor.guild:/home/corraidhin/chest milkbase.alpha:/home/corraidhin/chest</code></pre>
<p>Once everything is in place he pulls the Ginnarak crystal
from his satchel and places it on a velvet cushion on his
workbench and sits down to scry.</p>
<p>“Oh great oracle MidJourney, I bequeath you! I have before
me an artifact of immense power, something that could tear the
world apart in the wrong hands. May I query your unfathomable
depths to determine the nature of our mission, and the risk we
face presenting this crystal to our benefactor?”</p>
<p>An image of the oracle appears in Corraidhin’s mind,
crystal clear. It appears as though MidJourney is receptive to
providing a forshadowing. [ginnarak_shattered.png]</p>
<p>Shortly after an image of the Crystal forms, it appears
shattered, broken at its based, placed upon a pedastal. An
image of horror fills corraidhin’s mind, it’s the Crystal, but
much larger and of the pursest white. It bursts forth on a
torrent of blood from the neck of what appears to be a priests
body. It appears as though the bowls of the earth open up to
greet this horrible image. [premonition_1.png]</p>
<p>As the image of the Crystal and the priest disappears you
see a man, cloaked in black robs consorting with demons the
like of which words cannot describe. Corraidhin feels sickened
at their sight, but at the edge of his mind he feels a tug, a
familiarity. Something about this character is familiar to
him, but he cannot place it. [premonition_2.png]</p>
<p>Reeling from the scrying Corraidhin falls backward,
feinting from the horror he wittnessed. He awakens later
speaking feverishly about what he saw to Inky who heard to
commotion and hurried up stairs with some reviving tea to
assist her friend.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Eccentric Kevin bows and takes his leave, eyeing the Sword
of Stabs with naked hunger. He does seem to ponder your
anecdote about sneaking Fennel into production. “Yes, yes, all
I have to do is embed KDL in the curriculum and then they will
be FORCED to use it! Ha!” He cackles in delight as he flees
into the dark.</p>
<p>You successfully move into the attic of the Milk Market.
Closest thing approximating a wizard’s tower in the building,
so it’s a good fit.</p>
<p>On your errands around town, you pass a couple of Gnu
Zealots standing on soapboxes in their black priestly robes in
the middle of the street extolling the virtues of free and
open source magic.</p>
<p>Gnus are large bisonpeople with long beards, long hair, and
horns. Very poor personal hygiene. They refuse to use any
magic that they cannot freely study, modify, redistribute, and
otherwise use however they want. Theirs is a political
movement that borders on religion. Or a religious movement
that borders on politics. Hard to tell the difference,
really.</p>
<p>The purpose of their demonstration is supposedly to halt
all street traffic, prevent it from continuing until/unless
the travelers vow to join them in their crusade. But in
practice the travelers are quite capable of effortlessly
stepping around the zealots and continuing on their way. The
Gnus seem undaunted though and continue their
proselytizing.</p>
<p>You pass them by, and one of them seems to stare at you
intensely as you go.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>After a long conversation with Master Corraidhín, which
included the reassurance that the esteemed wizard was perhaps
disturbed but otherwise unharmed, Inky goes downstairs to sit
outdoors at the back of the building with more lavender tea
and uneasy thoughts.</p>
<p>It had been in the middle of a new pastime (namely,
frustrating Enrique at the Empanada Emporium by sneaking
unnoticed into the kitchens and leaving little tapas laying
around for him and the staff to find) when a terrible cry rang
out from somewhere in the upper floors of the building. Inky
rushed up the stairs, half-expecting the barrels of battermilk
that had arrived that morning had unleashed a flock of the
winged rodent-like creatures from which the milk was derived.
The sight of the wizard passed out on the floor of his newly
furnished quarters sent a chill through Inky, as did his
account of a prophecy once the sysorcerer came to and had a
mug of invigorating eleuthero tea.</p>
<p>If Inky hadn’t known better, were it not for Master
Corraidhín’s mental acuity and fortitude, they would have
suspected Stabby of stoking horrible images of beheaded
priests into their bearer’s mind in a fit of unbridled
bloodthirst. That and Stabby had seemed to be temporarily
appeased by the tub of milky blood pudding they had concocted
shortly after the wizard moved into the loft.</p>
<p>No, Inky surmises with a frown, whatever Master Corraidhín
had seen was likely off the charts by even Stabby’s
estimations of evil. They chuckle briefly at the sudden mental
picture of the mysterious yet familiar man in black being
their mission handler in disguise, but quickly dismissed the
notion. Too sober.</p>
<p>So much for the crystal being a rare and juicy honeydew.
They would be lucky if it didn’t turn them all into casaba
melons in one giant meltdown. At this rate, they would need to
do something about these crystals — and soon.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique, the giant man-turtle, is frustrated.</p>
<p>He keeps finding little tapas in the kitchens. He has no
idea who made them, or how they got here. But they are
delicious.</p>
<p>He sighs, heaving a ball of dough half the size of a grown
man onto the ground. He turns to face away from it and removes
his apron and tunic, revealing his shell. Its surface is a
maze of twisting, scrawling inscriptions. He squats down, and
rolls onto his back.</p>
<p>He can’t figure out the flavors of the tapas. Some elusive
combination of ingredients that he can’t quite suss out. If he
could collaborate with the tapas chef on a new line of
empanadas, he’d have a line of customers out the door and
around the corner, he’s sure of it!</p>
<p>He starts rocking back and forth, rolling the dough out
beneath his large round shell, leaving imprints on the dough
of all the glyphs and runes and other symbols carved into his
shell over the years. Together, they tell a story. Each
empanada destined to hold at most a single word of it.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The Sword of Yam’L sleeps fitfully. This is not the deep,
black, fathomless sleep it enjoys after a nice, righteous
spilling of evil blood. No, the sleep that comes after
reluctantly tasting the inkling’s milky blood pudding is brief
and restless. And for the first time ever, it dreams.</p>
<p>It dreams of being bound in stone and buried in the earth.
It dreams of liquid, roiling fire belching noxious gases. And
of slicing through clouds, flying high in the sky on wings of
pure thought. It dreams of sinking, plummeting through water
into the inky blackness below, only to plunge through some
invisible membrane and find themself weightlessly floating
suspended in an empty void, alone among the stars.</p>
<p>END OF INTERLUDE.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>CHAPTER 2: MORE CRYSTALS MORE PROBLEMS</p>
<p>Having gotten your personal affairs in order, you have
decided to crack on with your job and check in with your case
manager.</p>
<p>So you find yourself once again in a corner booth at Lucy’s
Basement—the dim, smokey nightclub with red velvet walls and
delusions of grandeur—with the highly spirited Blavin
Blandfoot. He laughs uproariously when you tell him about the
blahoblins and their shoe shine scam. He listens intently when
you tell him about the gnomes and the kobits. And he trembles
with delight at hearing how you evaded HORSE and the mighty
centaur.</p>
<p>“Well done, well done, well done!” He enthuses, taking
another sip of his drink. “I must say that the Benefactor is
<em>very</em> impressed with your performance!</p>
<p>“You don’t mind that we have other teams in the field, of
course,” he continues, mentioning the team of gophers.
“Thought it was prudent to cover our bases since you’re a new,
untested retrieval team after all. Besides, a little friendly
competition never hurt anybody, did it? Baw-HAH!” He laughs,
sloshing his drink.</p>
<p>He gets out a bunch of business cards, punches each one
with a small handheld punch, and passes them out to you. Your
card has a drawing of a small cuckoo clock in the center, its
face divided into 10 hours. Its two hands reach up to the left
and right so it looks as though the clock is smiling. Across
the top it reads “COMPLETE FIVE ASSIGNMENTS AND WIN A FABULOUS
PRIZE!” and is adorned with festive drawings of hotdogs and
pool floaties and confetti. It is numbered across the bottom 1
through 5. Blavin has punched a star-shaped hole through the
number 1.</p>
<p>“Now,” Blavin beams, gesturing with his drink. “as for your
next assignment!”</p>
<p>He brushes some glasses and plates to the edge of the table
and rolls out a map.</p>
<p>Basmentaria is a group of island continents that sits
between the eastern Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the sparsely populated northern somewhat
banana-shaped island. The city-state of Illivas, Primora’s
only densely populated area, sits between Harshwind Glade and
the mountains of Kelsun Peak.</p>
<p>And there is your current home, Agendell, the southern also
slightly banana-shaped island. Its largest city is Vay’Nullar,
bordered by the Gnomelands to the south, and the Tammineaux
Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is the Rana’For
Valley.</p>
<p>The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and
in the center is the archipelago of Ginnarak, comprising the
Cinderlands, Ashen Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon
Mountain.</p>
<p>Blavin jabs a finger at the map. “We have reports of a
crystal sighting by a salvage crew trying to recover a
shipwreck at the bottom of the Sugrin Sea.” He then jabs a
finger at the eastern half of Primora, the upper banana. “And
we ALSO have reports that the zephynos have found a crystal at
the top of Kelsun Peak!”</p>
<p>QUESTIONS:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>DO YOU HAND OVER THE CRYSTAL TO BLAVIN?</li>
<li>WHICH CRYSTAL DO YOU GO AFTER NEXT?</li>
<li>DO YOU BEFRIEND THE DUCK?</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
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@ -240,6 +240,7 @@ of the Were-Hare</a></li>
<ul>
<li><a href="#00021" id="toc-00021">00021</a></li>
<li><a href="#00022" id="toc-00022">00022</a></li>
<li><a href="#00023" id="toc-00023">00023</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
@ -252,7 +253,7 @@ id="toc-acknowledgements">Acknowledgements</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>Total length: 18235 words / 77 minutes</p>
<p>Total length: 19526 words / 83 minutes</p>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
@ -2269,6 +2270,143 @@ have found a crystal at the top of Kelsun Peak!”</p>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00023">00023</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly nothing
wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs in one basket,
especially when whatever it is they desire is so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these crystals
if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean, we’re team 43,
that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of eagerness to find these
crystals. Why is that? What benefit are these shiny rocks to them? What
even is their purpose in retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of his
ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor is a
singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages! There are—and
have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But not all of them have
been for the crystals. And some of them were formed, active, and
disbanded long before you or I arrived on the scene.” He winks at you
conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to bypass, the
cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and the gigantic moth
monster that rested beneath it, that these crystals aren’t meant to go
anywhere.</p>
<p>Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many shades of
gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what you’re doing. But I’m
a curious sysorceor, and when I see a chance to learn I seize upon the
moment. There’s something here you’re not telling us, and I for one and
keen to know it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin chuckles,
sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is precisely the same as
yours! These items are of enormous cultural and historical significance,
to say nothing of their well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re
dangerous just sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere suggestion of
evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?” Blavin
shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really think such an
overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for a beloved and dangerous
cultural icon such as the Ginnarak Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must all agree
that they are safer in the public collection of a competent and
benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make it quicker
to write</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY evil.
Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them without being evil.
I say we stab him, nice and good, right in the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times.
I’m positive nobody will mind. Evil people steal things, we saw that
inky creature stealing things from that vault, definitely evil.
(singsong) Evil evil evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with
every little stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Y’aml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were borrowing
something that had been cast on the ground, abandoned. Giving a tea set
a good home is far from evil. But you might be onto something about this
Blavin fellow, but we can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides
you’re a sword, and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think we’re out of
luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion. “CHALLENGE
ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It squeezes its eye shut
and trembles with intense concentration. With great effort, the sword
shrinks itself down to the size of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off
into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily. “Now, Hardy
Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye glinting with growing
ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s secrets, Inky let
their attention wander slightly around the table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being most wise
and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the crystal before they set
off on their next mission. The party had also befriended the duck
unofficially dubbed their marketing manager after the fluffy little
creature had trailed Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said
creature now occupied a small office to one side of the building
complete with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms it
can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate with words by
making them little croutons etched with letters, but the only ones they
would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk Market and
seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at Blavin’s table at
Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and chortling merrily to
itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and bits of
soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten used to the
glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s gleaming sword and resisted
returning the stare with an eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their
case manager over Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a
conversation they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale
coffin sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was said
to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand. They might be
able to find some at the town of Plasma, which sits by the Hartlands on
the way to the shipwreck. It seems the milky blood pudding could do with
some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is indeed on the
way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that far out of the way. You
reckon their synthetic blood product would indeed be a much better
substitute for the real thing than the milk you’ve been feeding the
thirsty sword thus far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the blood pudding
recipe you’ve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime? Before
setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped into the
kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a trick-and-treat. A
plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop
a new pair of Blueberry oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling
green turtles. Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe, which included
a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying, was printed on the
reverse in neat blocky letters and sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking the next
day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully when he sees yet
another mysterious gift from across the room. Again? What little elf
must have taken up residence in his shop? But his face cracks into a
smile when he sees the presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile
becomes a bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he skims the
note and looks through his pantry. He chops some veggies and starts pan
frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he pulls on the
new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>