Paths:
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+Paths:
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+Welcome to Basement Quest!
We’re gonna play this by ear, and cross each bridge only when we get diff --git a/www/rss.xml b/www/rss.xml index e6f6026..69bfc9d 100644 --- a/www/rss.xml +++ b/www/rss.xml @@ -5,6 +5,146 @@
++Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one + hand.
+It was lighter than it should be given the density of the + contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown + weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the + clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the + continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port + town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars. + Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a + mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim + light.
+It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this + particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the + shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of + their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local + sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the + hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district + at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set + up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into + the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily + wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of + the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with + assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time + and in larger quantities.
+Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was + set to one side.
+What were they doing?
+If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any + student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an + experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known + the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny + concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but + didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they + thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a + dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could + not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they + had failed, again.
+They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go + into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing + the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large + platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had + been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had + gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it — + it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood + pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s + menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was + straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly + in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be + true nobody could be held to account for the actions of + another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of + a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in + other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble, + a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of + wandering the continent.
+Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently + for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it + back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to + the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín + was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was + more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness, + despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in + staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this + more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?
+After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the + producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still + reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty + cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the + floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this + one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best + life choices.
+
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead + of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet + your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named + Inquire Within Upon Everything.
+Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would + imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of + living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s + cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine, + decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together + irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and + claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar + brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
+You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his + fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that + involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to + either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish, + fanfare, and misdirection along the way.
+He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an + ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his + left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other + barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a + certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have + enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he + escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the + sloop Diamond Howler is docked. Its captain, Enid + Barlow, welcomes you aboard.
+Before long, Diamond Howler pulls out under the + command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky” + Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast, + and you arrive fairly quickly.
+“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow + mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest + assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the + best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing + goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared. + Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t. + But at least we know where she wound up!”
+While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a + large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge + with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around + and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little + effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide. + “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the + tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom + of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop + up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a + breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on + over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while + you’re below the waves!”
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free + to react to anything that happened between arriving at the + docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding + the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.
+ + ]]> +--Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I - should probably be a little more careful with my spells..
-Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what’s going on - here, no sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea - creature blind.
-Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship, - searching for the creature inside
--
sudo fzf $(pwd)--t e n t a c l e
-Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?
--
sudo fzf $(pwd)--c r y s t a l
-Blast! Why can’t I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for - a moment.
-OH!
--
sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior--t e n t a c l e
-
You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any - tentacles inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of - the crystal you seek.
-If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a - harrowkrake. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster - with a plow shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor, - digging deep furrows. Kind of like if a giant squid could grow - a nautilus shell. They are usually content to stay in their - trenches, grabbing prey as it swims by with their long - tentacles like some kind of nightmarish barnacle.
-The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on - candies. A few blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood - float lazily upward from where Gabs got her stabs on, - attracting the attention of a couple horkosgrampus. The manta - gives them a wide berth but doesn’t otherwise seem too - concerned about them.
-Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk. - They are mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence - in the presence of a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which - case they go into a frenzy preying on the liar or liars. They - can smell blood from a great distance, but can hear a lie from - much further.
-You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling - like smooth stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a - little further onto its side, and dangles just a little - further over the harrowkrake trench.
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- - ]]> ---Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly - on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between - Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage - to hoist the wizard to his feet.
-With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod - to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The - duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, - follows them shortly after.
-The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside - from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage - seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot - in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of - water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the - bed.
-Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a - dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
-
~
+Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I + should probably be a little more careful with my spells..
+Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what’s going on + here, no sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea + creature blind.
+Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship, + searching for the creature inside
+sudo fzf $(pwd)
--” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my - club!’”
-The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar - and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs - out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a - whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. - Call it in when needed.”
-Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From - his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the - wound.
-As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all - kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is - currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! - Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, - with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may - be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today, - and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”
-Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will - finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the - best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the - winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our - plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”
-Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but - dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading - small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern - friends.
+t e n t a c l e
You are at a small port town on the northern tip of - Agendell, just past the Rana’For Valley. The sun is bright and - the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool - and salty. The floating island-city of Vay’Neddas, bridging - Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance - hanging in the northern sky.
-Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies - and gear, which were generously provided to you by the - indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up - a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey - to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.
-From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out - to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.
-Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It - would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and - pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the - Sword of Yam’L.
-The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of - “evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive - this whole time.
-WHAT DO YOU DO:
-Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?
+sudo fzf $(pwd)
++c r y s t a l
+
Blast! Why can’t I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for + a moment.
+OH!
+sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior
++ +t e n t a c l e
+
You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any + tentacles inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of + the crystal you seek.
+If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a + harrowkrake. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster + with a plow shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor, + digging deep furrows. Kind of like if a giant squid could grow + a nautilus shell. They are usually content to stay in their + trenches, grabbing prey as it swims by with their long + tentacles like some kind of nightmarish barnacle.
+The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on + candies. A few blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood + float lazily upward from where Gabs got her stabs on, + attracting the attention of a couple horkosgrampus. The manta + gives them a wide berth but doesn’t otherwise seem too + concerned about them.
+Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk. + They are mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence + in the presence of a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which + case they go into a frenzy preying on the liar or liars. They + can smell blood from a great distance, but can hear a lie from + much further.
+You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling + like smooth stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a + little further onto its side, and dangles just a little + further over the harrowkrake trench.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00060.html">www ]]>++Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly + on the sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between + Inky’s tugging and Jarrod’s strong, steady hand, they manage + to hoist the wizard to his feet.
+With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod + to Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The + duck, having emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, + follows them shortly after.
+The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside + from the occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage + seemingly having fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot + in the loft. Inky retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of + water, a mug and a small packet of kuding leaves beside the + bed.
+Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a + dark corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
+
~
+++” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my + club!’”
+The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar + and puts a bag of coin down. “Serve drinks until this runs + out!” Leaning over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a + whisper: “I owe a favour to Lucy’s Basement for the trouble. + Call it in when needed.”
+Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From + his pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the + wound.
+As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all + kinds of hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is + currently applying, drawing a curse from the hobbit. “Shut it! + Let’s be clear. You’ve hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, + with the understanding that we’re dangerous people. There may + be ‘accidents’ on occasion. You’ve learned something today, + and what’s more, you lived to absorb your new wisdom.”
+Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. “We will + finish what we have started. We’re probably the team with the + best chances, I’m sure you’ll agree. Are you going to back the + winning play here? Either way, your decision won’t change our + plans. I’m sure you know how to take the win.”
+Jarrod pats the hobbit’s good shoulder in a friendly, but + dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading + small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern + friends.
+
You are at a small port town on the northern tip of + Agendell, just past the Rana’For Valley. The sun is bright and + the wind blowing in from the Sugrin Sea to the east is cool + and salty. The floating island-city of Vay’Neddas, bridging + Agendell and Primora, can be seen very faintly in the distance + hanging in the northern sky.
+Your faithful multibeast is carrying all of your supplies + and gear, which were generously provided to you by the + indefatigable Blavin Blandfoot. His arm in a sling, he kept up + a constant nervous chatter as he saw you off on your journey + to recover the second Ginnarak Crystal.
+From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out + to the site of the shipwreck just off the coast.
+Or, optionally, you are very close to the Hartlands. It + would be quite easy to make a quick visit to hemogoblins and + pick up some synthetic blood for your experiments with the + Sword of Yam’L.
+The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of + “evil”, has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive + this whole time.
+WHAT DO YOU DO:
+++Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be + two true bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally + think the ocean doesn’t have enough bears and could do with + two strapping examples of true peak bearitude! The two of you + should be working together to show the world how important + bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have two. And the + moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two bears?
+The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is + when it’s calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you + know you’re in for a hell of a bad time. And since neither of + you are it, I say we let this matter rest and declare this + ocean two bears richer!
+Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his + cloak, just in case. No need for a blood rush like last time, + can’t let daggers go mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the + ocean needs less bears, it’s tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would + react to bear blood..
+
The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a + dreadful bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention + him!”
+“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an + embarrassment to bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
+“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if + one of them is HE!”
+The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm, + two bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade + a scrupulous side-eye. “Do you truly think so?”
+“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the + tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of + ocean all around you.
+“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of + stars! The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it + not?”
+“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
+“Brother!”
+The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never + experienced the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then + you don’t know how soft and enveloping it is.
+“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must + begin our search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of + the Sea yet to be discovered?”
+“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I + can’t stand the thought!” sobs the merbear.
+They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear + love. “Good luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the + merbear to you over its shoulder. “If you ever end up on the + moon,” adds the tardigrade, laughing merrily, “say hello to + Hap’n’stance for me!”
+Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a + rush of current as massive amounts of water are displaced by + inky black tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach! + They grasp! One grabs the tardigrade around the middle. + Another grabs the merbear by the tail. Both bears cry and + reach for each other as they are ripped apart and pulled down + below.
+The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and + threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and + at your ankles!
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ + ]]> +++a new player enters the chat
+Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all + grown adults now, and she no longer wanted to toil away + running a business. When she initially shuttered her little + tavern, she thought she might just retire. She made it two + whole years of working in a garden, occasionally seeing + grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided + she needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a + nearby port town. She was sure to find something fun to do + there.
+Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of + debauchery wafting from within made her miss her days + gossiping at her tavern. She enters and orders a terrible + drink and listens and watches.
+Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she + decides, “I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that + sounds exciting!”
+Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join + on the journey!
+Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to + schmooze and have fun!
+
~
+++Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! + This is a short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between + the recent narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they + see Gabs approaching from the other side of the ship as well, + and flashes them a grin in greeting. After listening to the + captain petering on about the glorious days of the now sunken + ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s tentacles — being + rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for the + effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
+
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a + breathing bell takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But + you get the hang of it and make a ladle out of your hands and + scoop one up.
+“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a + wink, but it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t + put it on until right before you jump. It won’t be able to + breathe for you until you’re in the water. And this!” he + continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your shoulders, + “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one + holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When + you’re ready to come back up, just start dropping ballast, + right?”
+You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell + on over your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and + hugs your head like a second skin, and its stubby little + tentacles grab hold around your jawline, and it feels like you + have a wet plastic bag clinging to your face, and you think + you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the urge to + panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are + briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing + through the surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
+The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to + do its job. As you sink, you feel as though you are floating + through space, entering another world.
+After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the + distance. As you get closer, two large shapes start to come + into focus. The first is a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half + (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. The second figure is a + tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has eight jointless + legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and + wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water + Bear, after all!”
+“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the + Sea! I am half bear after all! You’re just some kind of + segmented nematode or something.”
+The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you + know I’m a panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the + ideal physical body! You may not like it, but this is what + peak performance looks like. I’ve lived under the polar ice + cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot spring. I’ve traveled + through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you ever been to + the moon?”
+“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like + it so much!”
+“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure + you’re not the Fish of the Sea?”
+“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many + armed bowl of jelly?”
+“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted + your slow descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must + settle an argument for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish + that I am the true Bear of the Sea!”
+“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ + you egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of + a barnacle that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the + Sea! Say this and I will guide and protect you on your + journey.”
+“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, + tardigrade, am Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my + moon friends!”
+“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth + can stand him!”
+“You’re just mean, you know that?”
+You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is + no sight of the SS RSS.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ + ]]> +--Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one - hand.
-It was lighter than it should be given the density of the - contents within, wrapped in straw and thick brown - weight-absorbent parcel paper for dry goods. Most of the - clientele were merchants and cultists from other parts of the - continent who ordered pallets to be shipped back from the port - town and sold to select boutique grocers or spilled on altars. - Inside was a block of congealed synthetic blood shaped like a - mud brick, the dark crimson almost black under the shop’s dim - light.
-It was sheer happenstance that Inky had found this - particular supplier. Having been informed heir boat to the - shipwreck would not arrive for several hours, the members of - their merry tea party had wandered off to enjoy the local - sights while they waited. Inky had inquired about the - hemogoblins and learned in passing that there was a district - at the western edge of the town where a smaller group had set - up warehouses, which would save them a two-day trip deep into - the Hartlands. The hemogoblins in the district were primarily - wholesalers, and it had taken some convincing before one of - the proprietors agreed to sell a block of it, along with - assurances Inky would purchase exclusively from him next time - and in larger quantities.
-Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was - set to one side.
-What were they doing?
-If quenching the thirst were so simple, wouldn’t any - student of magic have already thought of it, let alone an - experienced sysorceror? In all likelihood he had already known - the inevitable, but was too polite to refuse Inky’s funny - concoctions. Maybe deep down, Inky already knew too, but - didn’t want to say it out loud. That the long feather they - thought they had seen among the tea leaves was actually a - dagger. That they hadn’t wanted to admit some problems could - not be whisked away with some tincture or another. That they - had failed, again.
-They hadn’t searched enough for better ingredients to go - into the pudding, hadn’t reacted fast enough after noticing - the sword had abruptly disappeared, hadn’t thrown the large - platter of mouldy meat the terrified waitress next to them had - been holding at Blavin’s head, or something. The sword had - gotten what it demanded, and Inky couldn’t be angry with it — - it had never been subtle about what it wanted. Had the blood - pudding worsened the effects? Potions had never been on Inky’s - menu. Brewing inks and teas with certain mild effects was - straightforward enough, but curing chronic ailments was firmly - in healers’ territory and just as bewildering. While it may be - true nobody could be held to account for the actions of - another not in full control of themselves, and hardly those of - a rogue weapon with a mind of its own, sticking their nose in - other people’s affairs was the surest way to get into trouble, - a fact Inky still has difficulty learning after decades of - wandering the continent.
-Would this substrate even work? Maybe it acted differently - for cursed objects than coffin sleepers. Having brought it - back and now aboard the ship, how would they even give it to - the wizard? Should they wait and made sure Master Corraidhín - was truly rested and recovered, despite his insistence he was - more than fine? Would it be an insulting reminder of weakness, - despite the wizard having proven unusual mental fortitude in - staving off the screams for blood as long as he had? Was this - more of the same, adding to what they had (not) done?
-After a long moment, Inky rolls the package with the - producers’ leaflet haphazardly in an old sailor’s rags still - reeking of cheap alcohol, and passing by the wizard’s empty - cabin on the way to the deck, places the messy bundle on the - floorboards two steps from the door. Let the fates decide this - one, because Inky’s magic 0 ball sure doesn’t make the best - life choices.
-
Blavin has arranged transportation to the shipwreck ahead - of time. All you have to do is head down to the docks and meet - your contact, Three-Fingered Gerald, at a seedy dive bar named - Inquire Within Upon Everything.
-Inquire Within is as eclectic and gaudy as the name would - imply. The bar serves as an extensive and impressive piece of - living documentation, drawing heavily on the port town’s - cosmopolitan mixture of culture. Every kind of style, cuisine, - decor, and beverage can be found here mishmashed together - irregardless of good taste. Its contents are encyclopedic and - claustrophobic. And yet it is not without its own peculiar - brand of overwhelming, garish charm.
-You find Mister Three-Fingered at the bar entertaining his - fellow patrons with a grotesque sleight of hand routine that - involves passing his gold-plated false eye from its socket, to - either hand, inside his mouth, and back with lots of flourish, - fanfare, and misdirection along the way.
-He is a merry, boisterous sailor short one eye, half an - ear, several fingers, and—he confesses to you—the heel of his - left foot. “It’s why I walk so slow, you see.” The other - barflies call him “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald. Because a - certain kind of man—and Gerald is one of them—can never have - enough nicknames. After you buy him a drink or three, he - escorts you out of Inquire Within and to the slip where the - sloop Diamond Howler is docked. Its captain, Enid - Barlow, welcomes you aboard.
-Before long, Diamond Howler pulls out under the - command of Captain Barlow and First Mate “Lucky” - Three-Fingered Gerald. The site isn’t too far off the coast, - and you arrive fairly quickly.
-“Aye, here she is. The SS RSS.” says Captain Barlow - mournfully. “You can’t see her from up here. But you rest - assured, she’s down there, resting on the seabed. She was the - best cargo runner on the Sugrin back in her day! Distributing - goods up and down the coast. Until the day she disappeared. - Nobody knew what happened to her, not for sure. Still don’t. - But at least we know where she wound up!”
-While the captain reminisces, Three-Fingered Gerald drags a - large water tank across the deck, sloshing water over the edge - with each step. Translucent orb-like jellyfish wobble around - and bump into each other inside the tank, releasing little - effervescent bubbles that fizzle and pop when they collide. - “Here we go!” announces Mister Three-Fingered, depositing the - tank of jellies in front of you. “Sailed through a big bloom - of breathing bells just last week, didn’t we! Managed to scoop - up a whole bunch of the little suckers. You ever use a - breathing bell before? No? Aw, it’s easy! Ya just pull one on - over your head like a hood, and it’ll breathe for ya while - you’re below the waves!”
-WHAT DO YOU DO
-NOTE: We just covered a lot of narrative ground. Feel free - to react to anything that happened between arriving at the - docks, meeting Gerald and drinking at Inquire Within, boarding - the Diamond Howler, and sailing to the site of the wreck.
- - ]]> ---a new player enters the chat
-Gabs had a good life. Her little devil children were all - grown adults now, and she no longer wanted to toil away - running a business. When she initially shuttered her little - tavern, she thought she might just retire. She made it two - whole years of working in a garden, occasionally seeing - grandkids, and reading romance novels. She eventually decided - she needed a vacation from her retirement and traveled to a - nearby port town. She was sure to find something fun to do - there.
-Gabs eventually sees Inquire Within, and the smell of - debauchery wafting from within made her miss her days - gossiping at her tavern. She enters and orders a terrible - drink and listens and watches.
-Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she - decides, “I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that - sounds exciting!”
-Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join - on the journey!
-Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to - schmooze and have fun!
+Inky follows behind the merbear at a healthy 2 meters’ + distance away in the bubblebee, the headlights illuminating a + moderate distance ahead of the distraught bear as it darts + after its brother.
+As the merbear homes in on the tardigrade near the ship + deck, Inky keeps a lookout for any signs of movement or + tentacles from behind or below the shipwreck. The bubblebee’s + headlights cast an eerie shadow from the ship’s double masts + even as it partly lights up the rim of a gaping hole in the + hull.
~
---Meta: a warm welcome to the latest member of our tea party! - This is a short post to help smooth the temporal jumps between - the recent narratives so far. As Inky reaches the deck, they - see Gabs approaching from the other side of the ship as well, - and flashes them a grin in greeting. After listening to the - captain petering on about the glorious days of the now sunken - ship below, while tinkering with the bell’s tentacles — being - rewarded with a mild zap and marginally better fit for the - effort — Inky turns to the party. “When you’re ready.”
-
You reach into the tank and discover that grabbing a - breathing bell takes some finesse. They are very slippery! But - you get the hang of it and make a ladle out of your hands and - scoop one up.
-“Okay now!” laughs Three-Fingered Gerald. He gives you a - wink, but it’s easy to miss because of the eyepatch. “Don’t - put it on until right before you jump. It won’t be able to - breathe for you until you’re in the water. And this!” he - continues, fitting a heavy, padded vest around your shoulders, - “will carry you down.” It is a vest of many pockets, each one - holding a small dense sandbag the size of your hand. “When - you’re ready to come back up, just start dropping ballast, - right?”
-You hop up on the ship railing and pull the breathing bell - on over your head. It immediately contracts and squeezes and - hugs your head like a second skin, and its stubby little - tentacles grab hold around your jawline, and it feels like you - have a wet plastic bag clinging to your face, and you think - you might have made a grave mistake. Resisting the urge to - panic, you push off the railing and jump overboard. You are - briefly air born and then profoundly waterbound, crashing - through the surface of the sea into the briny soup below.
-The oxygen starts to flow as the breathing bell begins to - do its job. As you sink, you feel as though you are floating - through space, entering another world.
-After a while you start to hear voices arguing in the - distance. As you get closer, two large shapes start to come - into focus. The first is a hulking, hairless merbear. Top half - (hairless) bear, bottom half fish. The second figure is a - tardigrade the size of a large merbear. It has eight jointless - legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and - wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
-“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water - Bear, after all!”
-“Hornswoggle and poppycock! It is I who am the Bear of the - Sea! I am half bear after all! You’re just some kind of - segmented nematode or something.”
-The tardigrade quivers with indignation. “I’ll have you - know I’m a panarthropod, thank you very much. And this is the - ideal physical body! You may not like it, but this is what - peak performance looks like. I’ve lived under the polar ice - cap, and in a sulfurous mountaintop hot spring. I’ve traveled - through the vacuum of space to the moon! Have you ever been to - the moon?”
-“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like - it so much!”
-“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure - you’re not the Fish of the Sea?”
-“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many - armed bowl of jelly?”
-“Hey! Hey, you there!” The arguing quasi-bears have spotted - your slow descent. “Come, yes, float slowly this way! You must - settle an argument for us! Tell this slightly mammalian fish - that I am the true Bear of the Sea!”
-“The Bear of the Sea must be at least ‘slightly mammalian’ - you egg-laying scientific curiosity! You, tell this cousin of - a barnacle that I—the mighty merbear—am the true Bear of the - Sea! Say this and I will guide and protect you on your - journey.”
-“No! Would you like to visit the moon? Say that I, - tardigrade, am Bear of the Sea and I will introduce you to my - moon friends!”
-“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth - can stand him!”
-“You’re just mean, you know that?”
-You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is - no sight of the SS RSS.
+The tardigrade, still tucked into a ball, lands on the ship + deck with a gentle thud. It rolls a couple of times and + finally comes to rest against the rigging. The merbear reaches + it a moment later and cradles its jelly-like body gently in + its bear arms. “My brother!” it cries. “My dear bear + brother!”
+The tardigrade slowly uncurls and stretches out and looks + around, disoriented and bleary-eyed. It waggles its eight arms + around experimentally, closes and opens its claws as though + kneading the water. “Brother?” says the merbear in + astonishment.
+“I am okay brother!” says the tardigrade. “We water bears + are very hardy and resilient! It will take more than a mere + other worldly tentacle attack and an arcane electric blast to + do me in!”
+While the bears are having their teary-eyed reunion, you + sense movement in the shadows deep in the ocean trench, over + which protrude the ship’s masts. Your lights don’t penetrate + the darkness enough to see what it was. But it was large. The + very stuff that thalassophobia is made of.
+You also think you see a flash of gold as the light of the + bubblebee reflects off of something inside the ship through + the hole in the hull. Could it be the second Ginnarak + Crystal?
+The breach in the hull is easily large enough to admit a + medium sized creature such as an inkling in a bubblebee + apparatus. Or a sysorcer or a lanky old half-devil tavern + owner.
WHAT DO YOU DO
+ href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00056.html">www ]]>++Corraidhin Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. + This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even + slightly stealthy
+Y’aml STAB, delightful blood. Stab the + flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength. + Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more + more more more more
+Corraidhin (internal thought) Ugh my head, + it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s + hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a + moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own. + It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just + weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely + cursed..
+Y’aml CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did + was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him + again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they + look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying + to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB + THEM.
+Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though + holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises + again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he + slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden + seat.
+Y’aml Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! + Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!
+But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the + gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to + side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the + guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent + patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.
+Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying + the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. + You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this + man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is + entirely uncalled for!
+Y’aml NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. + STAB.
+The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, + insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental + strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he + clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this + point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around + the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling, + sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT. + EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB + IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
+The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but + commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
+Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, + consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, + stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches + Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red + eyes.
+
~
+++Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub + bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed + from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the + eye and says, “You are not your sword.”
+Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more + quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, + a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets + his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”
+
~
+++Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his + FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He + carefully avoids the wild swinging of the + once-sword-now-dagger.
+“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink + over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you + all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war + hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”
+Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear: + “Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself + together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate + places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s + direction, one that promises adventure later.
+
The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the + crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around + him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a + master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some + kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic + break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having + to interfere, all the better.
+The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, + pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner + can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing + manager I must strongly advise against this course of + action!”
+Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy + groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; + and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial + robes.
+The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a + bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at + the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up + for a blast.
+The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches + into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s + proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you + possibly justify your choices when there are open source + alternatives available?
+The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the + receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to + slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle + threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full + blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING + CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
+The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat. + The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub + smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its + pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes + right into the bar.
+++As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. + THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky + whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then + a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor + he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from + everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his + friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching + for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though + sheilding it from his surroundings.
+What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself. + Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s + going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large + ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good + good, the syscoreor croons.
+Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard + glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his + oration, worried about his companion.
+I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and + collapses to the floor.
+
Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the + well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye + closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear. + You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert, + lifeless.
+Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
+Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
+Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about + reassigning your case.
+The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is + happily snacking away.
+You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for + the moment, overstayed.
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+ + ]]> +--Inky follows behind the merbear at a healthy 2 meters’ - distance away in the bubblebee, the headlights illuminating a - moderate distance ahead of the distraught bear as it darts - after its brother.
-As the merbear homes in on the tardigrade near the ship - deck, Inky keeps a lookout for any signs of movement or - tentacles from behind or below the shipwreck. The bubblebee’s - headlights cast an eerie shadow from the ship’s double masts - even as it partly lights up the rim of a gaping hole in the - hull.
-
The tardigrade, still tucked into a ball, lands on the ship - deck with a gentle thud. It rolls a couple of times and - finally comes to rest against the rigging. The merbear reaches - it a moment later and cradles its jelly-like body gently in - its bear arms. “My brother!” it cries. “My dear bear - brother!”
-The tardigrade slowly uncurls and stretches out and looks - around, disoriented and bleary-eyed. It waggles its eight arms - around experimentally, closes and opens its claws as though - kneading the water. “Brother?” says the merbear in - astonishment.
-“I am okay brother!” says the tardigrade. “We water bears - are very hardy and resilient! It will take more than a mere - other worldly tentacle attack and an arcane electric blast to - do me in!”
-While the bears are having their teary-eyed reunion, you - sense movement in the shadows deep in the ocean trench, over - which protrude the ship’s masts. Your lights don’t penetrate - the darkness enough to see what it was. But it was large. The - very stuff that thalassophobia is made of.
-You also think you see a flash of gold as the light of the - bubblebee reflects off of something inside the ship through - the hole in the hull. Could it be the second Ginnarak - Crystal?
-The breach in the hull is easily large enough to admit a - medium sized creature such as an inkling in a bubblebee - apparatus. Or a sysorcer or a lanky old half-devil tavern - owner.
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- - ]]> ---Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be - two true bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally - think the ocean doesn’t have enough bears and could do with - two strapping examples of true peak bearitude! The two of you - should be working together to show the world how important - bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have two. And the - moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two bears?
-The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is - when it’s calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you - know you’re in for a hell of a bad time. And since neither of - you are it, I say we let this matter rest and declare this - ocean two bears richer!
-Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his - cloak, just in case. No need for a blood rush like last time, - can’t let daggers go mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the - ocean needs less bears, it’s tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would - react to bear blood..
-
The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a - dreadful bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention - him!”
-“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an - embarrassment to bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”
-“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if - one of them is HE!”
-The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm, - two bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade - a scrupulous side-eye. “Do you truly think so?”
-“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the - tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of - ocean all around you.
-“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of - stars! The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it - not?”
-“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”
-“Brother!”
-The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never - experienced the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then - you don’t know how soft and enveloping it is.
-“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must - begin our search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of - the Sea yet to be discovered?”
-“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I - can’t stand the thought!” sobs the merbear.
-They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear - love. “Good luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the - merbear to you over its shoulder. “If you ever end up on the - moon,” adds the tardigrade, laughing merrily, “say hello to - Hap’n’stance for me!”
-Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a - rush of current as massive amounts of water are displaced by - inky black tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach! - They grasp! One grabs the tardigrade around the middle. - Another grabs the merbear by the tail. Both bears cry and - reach for each other as they are ripped apart and pulled down - below.
-The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and - threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and - at your ankles!
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- - ]]> ---Corraidhin Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. - This is NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even - slightly stealthy
-Y’aml STAB, delightful blood. Stab the - flesh, tear the skin, pierce the fruit that gives us strength. - Drink the blood, consume their soul. More more more more more - more more more more
-Corraidhin (internal thought) Ugh my head, - it’s heavy, hurts. Misty and red? I can’t see straight, it’s - hard to think straight. That blasted sword, I thought for a - moment it, no, not think, it definitely did move on its own. - It became lighter and heavier. Pulling against it and it just - weighs itself down. This little magical bauble is definitely - cursed..
-Y’aml CURSED?! Rude Hardy Bear. All we did - was stab that evil hobbit. And it’s getting away! Stab him - again, taste his blood! The tavern gaurds are closing in, they - look like they’re trying to get rid of us, EVIL. Them trying - to stop us from getting that evil hobbit is EVIL, STAB - THEM.
-Corraidhin raises his free hand to his head as though - holding a wound and he groans in dismay as the dagger rises - again. It travels swiftly down towards Blavin, missing as he - slithers of the booth. And again, digging deep into the wooden - seat.
-Y’aml Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! - Stab the Hobbit Hardy Bear!
-But Blavin was inching further out of reach towards the - gaurds. In desperation the dagger begins swinging side to - side, making furtive slashing moves in the direction of the - guards. The party is safely behind Corraidhin, but innocent - patrons and the guards are directly in their sights.
-Corraidhin grabs his other hand and pulls hard, steadying - the swinging. STOP! I command you you blasted toothpick, STOP. - You’ve had your fun, now STOP. These people are innocent, this - man has done us no harm despite his potential “evils”, this is - entirely uncalled for!
-Y’aml NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. - STAB.
-The dull voice of the magical dagger rises, angry, - insistent. It consumes the last of Corraidhin’s mental - strength. All he hears is EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. Yet he - clings to his spare arm trying desparately to resist. At this - point the party and the tavern has cleared a wide path around - the sysorceor as he struggles with himself, mumbling, - sometimes yelling. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. NO WE WILL NOT. - EVIL. INNOCENT. STAB BLOOD DRINK. EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL STAB - IT. MAKE IT BLEED. I WILL NO.. STAB IT. STAB HIM.
-The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but - commanding. Firm, calm, sane.
-Stab them, stab them, make them bleed. Drink the blood, - consume the soul, free them from their evil being. Stab them, - stab them… over and over and over, as the sysorceor approaches - Blavin and the guards with a malevolent look in his ruby red - eyes.
-
~
---Inky moves to stand next to Blavin and the nightclub - bouncers. Tossing a tiny “see-eye” container they had borrowed - from Master Corraidhín at him, Inky looks the sysorceor in the - eye and says, “You are not your sword.”
-Watching the wizard’s expression, Inky continues, more - quietly, “If Master Corraidhín truly wishes to end the hobbit, - a mere imp would not stop him, but likewise, whatever he sets - his mind to do, a dagger cannot stop him either.”
-
~
---Jarrod steps gently into the fray and activates his - FASCINATING CHARM, attempting to draw all eyes to him. He - carefully avoids the wild swinging of the - once-sword-now-dagger.
-“I think,” he rumbles gently, “we could all use a drink - over the other end of the room. I’m buying, and I’ll spin you - all a tale of wonder! A tale of a wanderer, and of a war - hammer, and the first of their wild battles together!”
-Leaning over to whisper urgently in Corraidhín’s ear: - “Friend, I do not know what occurs here, but pull yourself - together. We can later sate our blood lust in more appropriate - places!” Jarrod lends a sly wink in the sysorcerer’s - direction, one that promises adventure later.
-
The tavern guards tense, but pause their advance, as the - crazed mage’s friends position themselves protectively around - him and try to placate him. They wouldn’t want to engage a - master sysorcerer on the best of days, much less one with some - kind of malevolent blood dagger in the middle of a psychotic - break. If his compatriots can handle him without them having - to interfere, all the better.
-The duck waddles up next to Inky and quacks softly, - pleadingly at Corraidhin. Only the Ornithologer in the corner - can understand its words when it says, “As your marketing - manager I must strongly advise against this course of - action!”
-Seated in the corner next to the Ornithologer is a shaggy - groll dressed in a dusty, faded poncho and a wide brimmed hat; - and a greasy, matted gnu, dressed in black ceremonial - robes.
-The groll discreetly draws its poncho back revealing a - bandoleer of wands and draws a cracklestick and points it at - the sysorcer. The wand starts to hum and glow as it charges up - for a blast.
-The gnu slaps the groll’s wrist, and immediately launches - into a tirade against the cracklestick’s manufacturer’s - proprietary spell slotting algorithm, and honestly how can you - possibly justify your choices when there are open source - alternatives available?
-The groll rolls its eyes, obviously having been on the - receiving end of this particular lecture before, and tries to - slap away the gnu’s grasping hands. The ensuing scuffle - threatens to turn this powder keg of a situation into a full - blown conflagration until Jarrod actives his FASCINATING - CHARM, commanding the attention of the entire room.
-The gnu freezes with its hands around the groll’s throat. - The groll halts with fists full of the gnu’s beard. A grub - smoking a hookah pauses with the mouthpiece raised to its - pursed lips. A distracted waitress on roller skates crashes - right into the bar.
---As though in a trance Corraidhin continues to yell STAB. - THEM. STAB. IT. cutting wildly at the air before him. As Inky - whispers to him his expression changes, first a grimace, then - a whimper. As Jarrod leads the patrons away from the sysorceor - he begins to tremble and cower away from himself, away from - everyone. His ruby red eyes dart back and forth between his - friends and the patrons, like a frightened animal searching - for an escape. He pulls the dagger into himself, as though - sheilding it from his surroundings.
-What.. what’s going on, he mutters feebly to himself. - Everything is a blurr. Uncertain of where he is or what’s - going on, Corraidhin thumbs the dagger, caressing the large - ruby embedded in the hilt. Y’aml, you’re still here, good - good, the syscoreor croons.
-Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard - glances over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his - oration, worried about his companion.
-I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and - collapses to the floor.
-
Corraidhin hits the floor and the dagger, now bereft of the - well of emotion it had been drawing from, grows still. The eye - closes and it seems to sigh happily. “Good job, Hardy Bear. - You have spilled the blood of evil.” And it sleeps, inert, - lifeless.
-Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.
-Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.
-Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about - reassigning your case.
-The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is - happily snacking away.
-You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for - the moment, overstayed.
-WHAT DO YOU DO
- - ]]> -Paths:
Paths:
+Paths:
Paths:
Paths:
+Paths:
+Welcome to Basement Quest!
We’re gonna play this by ear, and cross each bridge only when we get