50

basement.order

@@ -1,5 +1,6 @@
 src/about.md
 src/characters/index.md
+src/characters/alex.md
 src/characters/corraidhin.md
 src/characters/gabs.md
 src/characters/glarg.md
@@ -9,20 +10,28 @@ src/characters/sneaky.md
 src/characters/tea.md
 src/meta.md
 src/paths/paths.md
+src/paths/duckterror.md
+src/paths/murderhobo.md
 src/paths/retriever.md
 src/paths/soulsword.md
 src/paths/tasseomancer.md
 src/paths/werehare.md
 src/chapter1.md
+src/chapter2.md
 src/epistolary/index.md
-src/epistolary/00021.md
-src/epistolary/00022.md
-src/epistolary/00023.md
-src/epistolary/00024.md
-src/epistolary/00025.md
-src/epistolary/00026.md
-src/epistolary/00027.md
-src/epistolary/00028.md
+src/epistolary/00038.md
+src/epistolary/00039.md
+src/epistolary/00040.md
+src/epistolary/00041.md
+src/epistolary/00042.md
+src/epistolary/00043.md
+src/epistolary/00044.md
+src/epistolary/00045.md
+src/epistolary/00046.md
+src/epistolary/00047.md
+src/epistolary/00048.md
+src/epistolary/00049.md
+src/epistolary/00050.md
 src/bestiary/index.md
 src/bestiary/aur.md
 src/bestiary/blahoblin.md
@@ -32,10 +41,14 @@ src/bestiary/egre.md
 src/bestiary/gnome.md
 src/bestiary/gnu.md
 src/bestiary/groll.md
+src/bestiary/harrowkrake.md
 src/bestiary/hemogoblin.md
+src/bestiary/horkosgrampus.md
 src/bestiary/kobit.md
-src/bestiary/torque.md
+src/bestiary/merbear.md
+src/bestiary/tardigrade.md
 src/bestiary/toque.md
+src/bestiary/torque.md
 src/bestiary/zephynos.md
 src/geography.md
 src/cosmology.md
@@ -43,3 +56,4 @@ src/history.md
 src/notes.md
 src/acknowledgements.md
 src/afterword.md
+src/appendix/a/index.md

src/about.md

@@ -1,12 +1,12 @@
 ---
 title: about
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:16:30 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ## Stats
 
-Total length: zxWORDS words / zxMINUTES minute read.
+Total length: zxWORDS words / zxMINUTES minute read. (Mind you, that's the length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not just the story.)
 
 There have been zxNOMESSAGES messages posted over zxDAYS days since the first post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of zxPOSTRATE.
 

src/appendix/a/index.md

@@ -0,0 +1,548 @@
+---
+title: Appendix A
+created: Thu, 29 Dec 2022 15:46:36 -0700
+updated: Thu, 29 Dec 2022 15:46:37 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+## Appendix A: Barefoot Quackery
+
+Being apocryphal and supplemental material posted to the *Barefoot Quackery*
+thread on tildepals, including depictions of loose pages torn from books of the
+Runesocesius Library during the assault by the Cyberplasms, as well as original
+works of fiction and other diversions.
+
+### Cease and Desist
+
+> To: durrendal  
+> From: LABATT  
+> Subject: Cease and Desist Order  
+> 
+> To whom it may concern:
+> 
+> It has recently come to our attention that a personhood has withheld
+> important document(s) which affect the structural nature of a sensitive
+> publication, namely the [REDACTED] zine.
+> 
+> Please cease and desist immediately. You may comply with this order by
+> submitting the aforementioned document(s) to the designated drop-off point as
+> instructed on the imprint accompanying your submission form by midnight
+> Coordinated Basmentaric Time (BTC) of Day 22 of Member 12 in the year 2202.
+> 
+> Continued infringement represents an escalation and will result in sanctions,
+> including but not withstanding a remote cursery execution (RCE) on your
+> monitoring and calendar infrastructure.
+> 
+> We reserve the right to pursue other corrective actions through
+> temporally-attuned means to protect the release timeline integrity of key
+> cultural assets.
+> 
+> Sincerely,
+> 
+> Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)
+
+---
+
+> Dear sir and/or madame and/or bear and/or time travel NSA agent,
+> 
+> We've read your cease and desist, and while we understand its intent, we're
+> unable at this time to comply, not through any inability of our own, but
+> rather through our inability to stop writing run on sentence; you see we
+> never truly learned how to grammar goodly and now we just go on and on, ad
+> nauseum, so on and so forth; truly it is a depressing and persistent problem,
+> if we were ever to find the correct punctuation to prevent these run ons from
+> happening we might be able to cease, potentially even desist, but probably
+> both at the same time, or neither all at once, we're really uncertain at this
+> point; all that is know is that nothing is truly known once you've gone this
+> far down the grammartical, and metaphorical, rabbit hole; to speak
+> metaphorically that is on a subject that is somewhat subjectively objective
+> while simultaneously being an objective objection to your subjective
+> summation of our grevious misgivings, truly one must infer that the meaning
+> of these metaphoric subjectively objective objections are subjective in their
+> own right, potentially reaching the height of metaphysical incanatation; one
+> could say this run on sentence is one giant invocation, a charm of warding
+> against cease and desist notices, to protect the poor photographer from his
+> abject abandonment of his own promises; though some may object to my absolute
+> misuse of proper punctuation and grammar to the point where said people
+> stopped reading long again and began readying pitchforks and torches, likely
+> they're on their way to Maine now ready to burn my witchy incantating self
+> for the hum dinger of a grammatical curse I sit here writing, but to these
+> people I say NAY, nay sir I object to your cease and desist, and to their
+> objection to this abject horror of a sentence, and I abject my throne as
+> well, for you know I once was a king, not a very rich king, but a king in my
+> own right; why yes, indeed I was, king of stream of concious ramblings
+> without respect for grammar, punctuation, or any of that high falootin
+> nonsense that the yonder rich kings hold dear, and which I hold to be a
+> dreadful and dire curse upon us all, but with that I really must bid you Good
+> Day madame, though let this not be an ending, but the begining of a wonderful
+> and delightful sort of cease and desist based relationship,
+
+---
+
+> To: durrendal  
+> From: LABATT  
+> Subject: Re: Cease and Desist Order [#20221221-1946]  
+> 
+> To whom it may concern:
+> 
+> Please be advised that any evidence you provided in your response may be used
+> against you in the event an injunction is filed against your personhood
+> should you fail to comply with the order. This includes any admission of
+> culpability or liability stemming from failure to submit the aforementioned
+> document(s) in a timely manner.
+> 
+> LABATT is a renowned non-profit organisation dedicated to the preservation of
+> historical continuity of cultural works in the fabric of space-time. We
+> deplore the designation of "NSA agent" and invite you to learn more about our
+> mission and vision on our website and free seminars one of our offices across
+> Basmentaria.
+> 
+> Sincerely,
+> 
+> Luminati Association of Bears as Time Travellers (LABATT)
+
+
+### On the Origins of Santa Claws
+
+125
+
+
+On the Origins of Santa Claws
+
+Maximus N. Grinchescu
+
+It should heretofore be common knowledge that the Santa Claws of present day is
+the stuff of fantasy and make-believe, a story fabricated on the spur of the
+moment by some exasperated mother who could not for the life of her induce her
+children to behave. The very notion of reward in the form of toys and presents,
+or punishment in the lack thereof of aforementioned items, is no doubt
+appealing to many parents who are themselves motivated similarly and thus can
+only appeal to their offspring at the most superficial level. The lifelong goal
+in the pursuit of consumption has been drummed into these unfortunate
+children's heads from a young age, with thinly-veiled threats of a thorough
+mauling for those who dare to deviate from the well— and truly down— trodden
+path. It is the means by which the cycle of ignorance and conceit perpetuates
+among the unwashed masses — young mops bragging about having the largest
+present under the tree, to become adults boasting of receiving the most
+expensive gifts from a spouse or ever-widening court of suitors. The myth of
+Santa Claws is a gross distortion of facts disguised as a moralistic narrative
+that promotes annually renewing contracts of obedience in exchange for
+short-term material gains. Astonishingly, nary a word of doubt would be heard
+from the parents on the merits of accepting gifts from an obsessive stranger
+who prowls the streets at night watching their children sleep, in addition to
+claiming knowledge of the children's every move rivalling their own.
+
+It is regrettable that the image of Santa Claws in the eyes of many has been
+reduced to that of a jolly dangerous delivery worker. Little do they know that
+the real Santa Claws came from a long line of frockin — wandering folk who don
+a cassock and dedicate their lives to aiding the hungry, desperate and needy.
+On occasions for gifts, they gave to all regardless of whether they were
+perceived by friend or foe of the recipients to be good or evil, for such is
+the willingness of the frockin to set aside their quarrels on the Day of
+Bountiful Blessings. They travel across Basmentaria in fortles which house a
+multitude of rooms and supplies required to sustain their livelihoods. Inside
+the fortles were workshops in which carpenters, woodworkers, drafters, tailors,
+various craftspeople as well as farmers and cooks plied their skills.
+
+One frockin in particular became known for rescuing ransomed young maidens and
+poor indentured servants who faced torture by the oil vat at the hands of cruel
+employers in the nick of time that they became known as Nick, Blessed of
+Neddas, or Nick of Mairas as they gained grateful followers and admirers.
+Despite this, the frockin was modest in manner and rarely took credit for their
+acts of generosity. Because of this trait and the loss of the few, limited
+first-hand accounts of those with close dealings with the frockin in a fire
+shortly before they assumed the care and upkeep of a pair of fortles, little is
+known of their childhood circumstances or early life. Enrolment records at an
+vocational institution in Vay'Neddas confirmed that they studied for several
+years in the city, and inherited their uncle's position of managing the
+activities within the fortles sometime after their return. Other historical
+biographers contend the frockin's name was in fact Nikolas Klaus, which later
+became Claws in children's stories as to make them most palatable to
+impressionable young readers.
+
+Questions as to the nature of their appearance are generally of little import
+save for lining the pockets of picture book publishers and mass producers of
+wax figure collectibles. Those who have had the fortune to glimpse their person
+described a wizened countenance of long hair, fulsome beard and whiskers
+gleaming white and silver, amid which nestled a pair of warm amber eyes, a nose
+slightly rosy from the cold and an affable smile. A genial face rested atop a
+large stocky frame, as was common among those with the blood and strength of
+noble mountain lions. As in the period of their ancestors, they wore a dark
+
+---
+
+126
+
+
+brown cloak with a hood over their cassock to ward against the cold weather,
+though this changed after one occasion when they narrowly avoided being run
+over by a semi-autonomous cart. The abominable thing had zipped by in front of
+Santa at a beard's distance away as they emerged on the roof of a house through
+its chimney.
+
+At this juncture it should be duly noted that the idea of Santa Claws typically
+making their entrance into homes by clambering down chimneys, even preferring
+it as a method of entry, is as preposterous as the worthless rags that
+circulated such claims. No one of sound mind would shimmy through filthy,
+narrow, often half-crumbling chutes — carrying a large sack, no less — if they
+could safely enter through the front door. For the latter was exactly what
+Santa and their predecessors did, and still do to this day in some villages, in
+a time when people were less leery of their neighbours and either left their
+doors unlocked, or placed a spare key under the doormat so the household next
+door could tend to the plants or the children's pepper pigs while they visited
+relatives farther away.
+
+According to a later account by one of the crew on Santa's fleet, translated
+and transcribed for the frockins' annals by a chronicler, what had actually
+transpired was this: on that night while nearing the end of their rounds, Santa
+found signs of flooding at one of the houses pointing to a burst pipe, the
+water having seeped out under the front door and turned to ice in the frigid
+temperatures. Tender of heart, Santa retrieved their fleet repair kit that was
+kept for emergencies and ventured into the house to repair the broken pipe, in
+lieu of simply leaving the presents outside on a stump where a tree once stood
+and riding on. It was then that an obstacle presented itself. The house owners,
+having gone away for the holidays, had a magical apparatus set on the door that
+would raise an alarm and curse if opened by an intruder. No house key was found
+under the mat after defrosting the ice over it enough to pull off the cover.
+The windows were likewise sealed shut and latched. This ultimately necessitated
+Santa entering and leaving through the chimney. Doubtless some fool stumbled
+upon the moment Santa exited the chimney opening, nearly flattened by the
+aerial hazard of a self-navigating cart, and got it into their head that Santa
+Claws was one for chimney-climbing as sport.
+
+When the good Mrs. Claws found out about the near mishap, they were so worried
+about their partner venturing out on missions that as a precaution, they had
+Santa promise to wear a bright red outfit for such occasions. The thick
+overcoat had a white faux fur trim that reflected the moons' light, matching
+hat and trousers and a shining gold belt buckle so that the carts' sensors can
+sight him even on the darkest nights. Completing the outfit were gloves with
+open seams at the base of each finger to reveal their claws without taking off
+the gloves completely. The whole ensemble was made by Mrs. Claws themselves,
+and it was said they had gotten the inspiration for the white trimmings from
+their partner's flowing mane. Members of the fleet were also offered a similar
+change in clothing and the flying multibeast was re-painted in accordance with
+the new colours that are now festooned in the streets and shops all over
+Basmentaria each year as the Day of Bountiful Blessings draws near.
+
+A brief word on the aforementioned fleet: much remains unconfirmed about the
+origins or evolution of the transport employed by Santa Claws to cover long
+distances, and the arcana that powers the current fleet remains a subject of
+heated speculation. Based on surviving annals that were once on public display,
+before the twin fortles vanished one night were never seen again, it is
+generally thought that the earliest fleets were small fortles guided by a crew
+of twelve members excluding Santa Claws. In time the fortles were retired and
+replaced with aerial multibeasts for lighter weight and potential for greater
+velocity. Contrary to popular jingles, the multibeast is not pulled by
+reindeer, which are neither known for speed nor stamina, but are headed by rain
+horses specially raised for both as as well their ability to withstand much of
+
+### Sunrise over Kelsun Peak
+
+```
+that night we ride up the mountain
+deep within a Saldin Sea of mist
+our way up becomes cloudy, uncertain
+crying, heavy air turns to water
+the cage starts to shudder and shake,
+a venerable old man in a seizure
+
+you clung to my arm as a bear cub
+to its mother in the darkness,
+the lone candle snuffed out in a huff
+of a petulant wind throwing a tantrum
+I grip the handle hard enough,
+vowing to be strong for both of us
+
+when we are called from fitful slumber
+by twin rays of warming distant light
+promising more, brother and sister
+a cold breakfast or a hot chocolate
+lastly and first, the sight of you
+eyes open, hair tousled, immaculate
+
+the rusty gondola creaks a little
+under our combined weight, groaning
+at our youthfully excessive flair
+but we did not care, with our hearts
+facing the sun, far lighter as one
+than the corporeal sum of its parts
+
+a new day breaks, yolk radiant orange
+reveal the finest tempera brushed over
+neat rows of tea plants at the grange
+a gleaming dewdrop at the tip of a leaf,
+we dangle on the cusp, an infinite moment
+in the sky, we dare to hope, to believe
+```
+
+
+40
+
+
+### How to Grow Fortified Pumpkins
+
+How to Grow Fortified Pumpkins
+
+by Oles Macdonald
+
+So you wanna grow fortified pumpkins, huh? Well, first things first, you're
+gonna need a fort. You got yer self one, right? An' I don't mean those blow-up
+bouncing bollocks for kids, those take up room and don't do jack. No sirree,
+you need to get yer self a rock fort. The real hard structure, not mouldy
+cheese. Snow's not gonna cut it, fun for the young 'uns maybe but kills yer
+plants with frostbite fast. Sand just gets washed away in a storm. An' don't
+get me started on pillow forts, them things should be banned. Blocks sunlight,
+flaps like the village gossips with a bit o' wind letting in rain every which
+way, feathers inside them pillows take too long to dry when wet, I can go on
+an' on about it all day but we're talking about growing the best fortified
+pumpkins so let's stick with it.
+
+Bottom line is if you ain't got one then build one from rocks, it's what it
+says on the tin. Just make sure to choose large dry ones, flat-like, you
+wouldn't wanna get sick from cave mold before you even get this sucker off the
+ground, and flats will save you time cutting all them sides. Build your fort on
+a sunny part of yer land away from trees. Pumpkins love to suntan, even shows
+on their skins in some varieties. Stack up some rocks like yer building a brick
+wall or grill. The fort wall should be about a hand's thickness fer insulation
+an' at least twelve by four-an'-twenty by six feet on the inside. Spread
+fisherfolk nets over the top to let in the sun, rain and bees to do their thing
+for yer pumpkin plants but keep them birds out. You can throw cured tarp over
+it an' anchor it to the fort wall if a big storm comes along. Don' forget to
+leave an opening so you can fit a door later. Lets you get in an' out easy, but
+not so easy that the rats an' other rodents get to yer pumpkins first.
+Door-wise there's no need to be a fusspot about it, put in something sturdy
+with a clever latch or a ward if you can get a hold of one so the raccoon cats
+can't pick the lock with their claws.
+
+Yer gonna need three feet of the height right off the bat for a raised bed,
+specially if you don't know fer sure if the land below yer feet is cursed or
+not, or can't tell horse sh—t apart from dark clay to check yer soil is good.
+Line the inside of the fort with sheet metal where you'll load up with good
+soil in a bit, an' make sure you can get to all sides. No sense growing a bed
+full of pumpkins if you can't reach over to grab 'em later. You can also use
+wood but they will rot something nasty if you don't find the right wood that
+takes to water well an' have a habit of overwatering loads, then the whole
+thing falls apart under the weight. Sheet metal like the stuff used fer roofs
+will do the job, just bang a few together like a box with no lid no bottom an'
+yer in business. If you'd rather be safe than sorry, you can make it even
+sturdier on the inside with a steel bar or two across the width of the bed.
+Fill a third of the bed with straw, ol' wood, alfalfa or stuff like that you
+got laying around, then the rest of the way up to about the third knuckle's
+length away from the top edge with good quality compost. Every farmer worth
+their weight in potatoes knows good quality compost is the real gold. As I
+always tell new folks lookin' to set up right, go big on compost or go home.
+
+Once you've filled up the bed, dig a few rows of shallow trenches in the soil
+about a half-an'-a-feet or two apart an' two knuckles deep at yer pinky finger.
+Soak yer seeds overnight and plant 'em in a feet apart in the rows. Cover 'em
+up and mulch that beauty of a bed. Give 'em a good thorough watering every
+other day, or every day if it's like an oven hot out there, an' Bread's yer
+butter. Halfway through the season if they're lookin' a little starved, fortify
+'em by making some compost tea to freshen 'em up. You can use hemogoblin blood
+too if you got that, it's just a pricier way to do the same thing with the same
+results, an' who likes payin' more when you can throw a few fish bones
+together, boil the whole lot, leave it to rot an' get free plant tea? Not me.
+Now when they start flowering, nip off any extra flowers on the same vine so
+the pumpkin gets more nourishment an' grows bigger. For a lot of newbs it's a
+chore, but wait 'til you see the size of these pups. If you don't wanna mess
+about staking up vines, let 'em run around a bit and that's hunky dory too.
+Just be sure they aren't sittin' in a swimming pool, that's a one-way ride to
+mushy pumpkins an' root rot. An' dangnabbit do I hate mushy pumpkins.
+
+### An Overview of S.T.A.G Drones
+
+This guide is meant to introduce the operate (you) to the functionality of
+features of the S.T.A.G drone. For in depth usage and extensibility please
+review the source code which can be found at your local GNU guild.
+
+S.T.A.G - (S)py (T)ransmat (A)utonomous (G)izmo
+
+As the name implies, the S.T.A.G drone is a capable and compact automous gizmo
+capable of relaying video, audio, & gps information to its operator. Unlike
+most convention drones it requires no input to operate, simply supplying it
+with an object is sufficient. The on board (A)mber (I)mp handles the actual
+control. It is important that you retrieve the A.I. from the drone in the event
+you choose to discard, or risk the S.T.A.G. in any way, remember Imp's are
+sentient beings.
+
+Once an operator has deployed a S.T.A.G drone they'll recieve information back
+from it in the format of a twtxt feed, and open source plain text format which
+is easily parsed. GPS coordinates are reported as JSON strings inside of this
+feed, audio is transliterated to text, and video is relayed as a series of
+ascii characters. All an operate needs to do to view these feeds is to cat the
+return text to a terminal and it should render. If the operater does not have
+access to a terminal, or is not a practice sysorcerer, the video feed can be
+consumed by retrieving the S.T.A.G drone and holding it close to your ear. The
+A.I have been trained in number Basementarian languages and are happy to
+dutifully describe the scenes they've seen.
+
+Each of these feeds can be subscribed to separately
+
+The aggregate feed can be accessed via:
+
+```
+@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn>
+```
+
+Simiarly these feeds provide filtered results by name:
+
+```
+@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/gps>
+@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/audio>
+@<stag_arn uri://stag/arn/video> 
+```
+
+
+### Gremlin Sysorcer
+
+
+The gremlin stretched in his padded ergonomic chair and stifled a yawn. He had
+just finished beating the final Heroic Fantasy game for the twelfth time, when
+a flood of identical alerts flashed across his second screen: `Outgoing
+connection blocked on port 443 from 10.10.12.26` He reached into the machine,
+looked up the process and found two unfamiliar entries bouncing in and out of
+hottop's list for most computering units being consumed. The new intern had
+probably downloaded some application with an auto-updater and left it installed
+on the workstation. He zapped the processes.
+
+```
+killall -9 ysosirius
+killall -9 yunoluvirus
+```
+
+That should do it. He watched hottop closely on the monitor. A beat passed.
+Two, then the processes returned. Grr. These weren't regular rogue procs, but
+forked demons. His stubby fingers sprinted over the mechanical keyboard,
+clacking loudly in the dark office as he fired off a series of spells:
+
+```
+sudo systemctl stop ysosirius
+sudo systemctl stop yunoluvirus
+sudo systemctl disable ysosirius
+Failed to execute operation: Access denied
+```
+
+G—ck. How is that possible? The gremlin scratched his head with his Mebekey for
+a minute. Immutable flags?
+
+```
+sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
+/bin/bash chattr: not found
+```
+
+What. Did the intern somehow mistook it for a messaging client during the
+initial audit phase and removed it from all the workstations? He really needed
+to have a word with them when they turn up on Monday, but for now—
+
+```
+sudo apt -y install e2fsprogs
+sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius.service
+sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/ysosirius*
+sudo chattr -i /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus.service
+sudo rm -rf /etc/systemd/system/yunoluvirus*
+```
+
+There, stupid demons terminated. Must have been one of his colleagues leaving
+him a gaff holiday gift, but he started a malware scan anyway just in case.
+Smiling to himself and pushing up his Googol glasses, the Tier Two support
+wizard looked away from his screen to grab his mug, which was then he noticed
+it was empty. Frowning, he pulled up the COFE dashboard on his terminal. His
+expression fell at the "0%" next to a little icon of an empty fuel gauge in the
+status field. That was the last pot — he was sure of it because he had brewed
+it himself four hours ago after ransacking the kitchenette for more. He had
+managed to scrape out a few stale tablespoons from what was left inside a large
+can that had been shoved to the back of a cupboard. He had ran out of coffee.
+
+After checking his secret stash, which was also empty save for more discarded
+wrappers, he sighed and got to his feet. He gave the screen another glance and
+hoverboarded to the vending machine down the hall, before catching sight of the
+empty black racks from a distance and swerved back towards the lift doors.
+After some elevator-cruising, he found another vending machine a few floors
+down that still had drinks, a few tiny bags of corn chips and trail mix bars.
+Someone had already emptied its shelves of Cherry and regular Koke, and Diet
+Koke was never a viable alternative. Then he saw a single can of Red Kobit
+sitting tantalisingly on the rack. He paid with a tap of his meal card,
+figuring his luck wasn't too bad after all, but at the last moment the vending
+machine changed its mind and held onto both his credits and the can with a
+round, wiry claw. He yelled at the machine, threatened to summon maintenance,
+shoved it back a centimeter where it was already standing against the wall,
+pummelled its bulletproof glass chest with his fists and kicked its legs, to no
+avail. The vending machine had likely seen through his bluff and knew no repair
+person was coming on a Friday night graveyard shift. Taking the machine apart
+will land him in Big Trouble again, and it wasn't worth the three-hour
+CowardPoint presentation he would get about robot respect or the warning letter
+for damage to corporeal property. The gremlin resentfully tapped his card again
+to secure the last two cans of Red Horse, which rolled down into the flapped
+receptacle with a *ba dum tss* like a bad joke.
+
+When he returned to his desk and settled back in his rolling chair, open can of
+raw energy in hand, he began to feel a prickly, crawling sensation on his skin.
+A rising dread overcame him, as the apparition of his lifelong-sworn enemy rose
+up from the deepest runlevels of init hell once again, and without a new season
+of *White Mirror* dropping anytime soon, he knew he was in grave danger. He
+gripped the edge of his keyboard, exhaled slowly and greeted his old nemesis,
+Boredom.
+
+
+### Pirate Gold Fondue
+
+420
+
+Pirate Gold Fondue
+
+Ingredients
+
+- 3 Pirate Gold potatoes
+- 1/2 cup chickpea paste
+- 1 cup coconut oil
+- 1/3 macadamia milk
+- 2 tbsp. cornflour
+- 1 1/2 cups mulled apple wine
+- 1/4 cup hemogoblin blood
+- 1 garlic clove, flattened
+- 2 tbsp. ground cocoa
+- 1/2 tsp. paprika
+- 2 tbsp. lemon dill
+
+
+Method
+
+1. Peel potatoes and boil until soft. Let cool, then add to a large mixing bowl
+   with chickpea paste.
+
+2. Dissolve cornflour into the macadamia milk, then pour the milk gradually
+   into the bowl, mashing the mixture until no lumps remain. Add coconut oil,
+   1/4 cup at a time until folded completely into the mixture and set aside.
+
+3. Toast the paprika in a saucepan. Add mulled apple wine, bemogoblin blood
+   and garlic clove. When the liquid is heated, add ground cocoa.
+
+4. Pour the saucepan contents into a caquelon, or a double boiler with water
+   simmering below the bowl. Add the potato mixture slowly in small batches,
+   stirring continuously. Remove garlic after a 1/4 of the mixture has been
+   added, and resume stirring until all the potatoes have been added.
+
+5. Garnish with lemon dill and serve.
+
+### Lady Runesocesius
+
+```
+My Lady, I come to visit you
+will you show your dainty face, gladly I
+let you tease me as I ascend, step closer
+so you can hide behind your cloudy veils?
+
+My Lady, I kneel at your feet
+will you embrace me in your fulsome bosom
+let me breathe in your perfume, a heady wine
+taste drops of your creamy white nectar?
+
+My Lady, I bring you snow lilies
+to tuck behind your ear as I whisper
+sweet everythings into that tender shell
+so you can extract a promise for my return?
+
+My Lady, I long to see you
+to kiss your fair golden tresses and take
+my vow with Nullar as witness, an Elixir to
+savour once more your everlasting beauty?
+```

src/bestiary/harrowkrake.md

@@ -0,0 +1,12 @@
+---
+title: harrowkrake
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+<dt>Harrowkrake</dt>
+: A colossal many-tentacled sea monster with a hard shell. It drags itself along the ocean floor, carving deep furrows in which it lives, catching prey with its tentacles.
+: <details>![harrowkrake](harrowkrake.png)</details>
+
+
+

src/bestiary/horkosgrampus.md

@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+---
+title: horkosgrampus
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+<dt>Horkosgrampus</dt>
+: 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.
+
+

src/bestiary/merbear.md

@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+---
+title: merbear
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+<dt>Merbear</dt>
+: Top half bear. Thick, hairless, leathery skin with a thick layer of blubber to keep it warm. Bottom half fish.
+: <details>![merbear](merbear.png)</details>
+

src/bestiary/tardigrade.md

@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+---
+title: tardigrade
+created: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:11 -0700
+updated: Mon, 07 Nov 2022 09:06:18 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+<dt>Tardigrade</dt>
+: A water bear. It has eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp claws. It wriggles and wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
+: <details>![tardigrade](tardigrade.png)</details>
+

src/characters/alex.md

@@ -0,0 +1,22 @@
+---
+title: alex
+created: Fri, 18 Nov 2022 09:04:34 -0700
+updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:43:42 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+### Alex
+
+<details>
+<summary>Bio</summary>
+Alex is like Corraidhin in some aspects, he’s younger, more brash, more given to whim and fancy. He’s somewhat greedy and craven, attracted to riches far too easily. He’s a passionate gambler, not due to his skill, but by virtue of his ability to distract and confuse, which gives him a delightful edge. Some would call it lucky, but he calls it subterfuge. He has some sysorcerer skills, nothing quite as flexible as Corraidhin, but he delightfully wreaks havoc with worms, scrapers, ransom & spyware. If he can’t bypass something, he’ll delightfully destroy it. If he can’t break in, he’ll distract someone or something so he can slip by.
+</details>
+
+- Player: sinatra
+- XP: 1
+- Skills: Do Anything 1, Investigation 2, Illusions 2, Sneaking 2, Sysorcery 2, Stabbing 2
+- Equipment: a bunch of STAG drones
+
+Paths:
+
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand
+

src/characters/corraidhin.md

@@ -1,11 +1,13 @@
 ---
 title: corraidhin
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Thu, 29 Sep 2022 08:55:43 -0600
+updated: Sun, 06 Nov 2022 16:46:56 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Corraidhín
 
+Status: timestuck in a fork bomb
+
 <details>
 <summary>Bio</summary>
 They call me Corraidhín, and while my wisened age may seem an impediment to our expedition I assure you I make up for it with my sharp wit and intellect! By trade I am a scholar, master of the histories of this realm, and a dabbler in the arcane and mystic arts.
@@ -17,7 +19,7 @@ I think with my share of the reward I'll buy more books. Lots and lots of books,
 
 - Player: sinatra
 - XP: 0
-- Skills: Do Anything 1, Arcane Lore 2, Sneak 2
+- Skills: Do Anything 1, Arcane Lore 2, Sneak 2, Combat Magic 2
 - Equipment: Sword of Yam'L, Ginnarak Crystal (Earth)
 
 Paths:

src/characters/gabs.md

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 ---
 title: gabs
 created: Sat, 29 Oct 2022 08:41:37 -0600
-updated: Sat, 29 Oct 2022 08:41:37 -0600
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:56:09 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Gabs
@@ -21,10 +21,10 @@ Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and have fun!
 
 - Player: archangelic
 - XP: 0
-- Skills: Do Anything 1
+- Skills: Do Anything 1, Stabbing 2
 - Equipment:
 
 Paths:
 
-- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand
 

src/characters/glarg.md

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 ---
 title: glarg
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:56:09 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Glarg
@@ -19,3 +19,8 @@ With my share of the money, I plan to hire a mage to send me home, or turn every
 - XP: 0
 - Skills: Do Anything 1
 
+
+Paths:
+
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand
+

src/characters/inky.md

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 ---
 title: inky
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Thu, 29 Sep 2022 08:56:00 -0600
+updated: Fri, 18 Nov 2022 09:01:22 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Inky
@@ -16,12 +16,12 @@ What do you plan to do with your cut of the money? Buy lots of ink ingredients,
 </details>
 
 - Player: mio
-- XP: 1
-- Skills: Do Anything 1, Persuasive 2, Plantomancy 2
+- XP: 0
+- Skills: Do Anything 1, Persuasive 2, Plantomancy 2, Throwing 2, Medicine 2
 - Equipment: Handy Duffer Discette, Fine Feathered Quills, Jade Tea Set, Mountain Range Glyph Ink, Bead of the Werehare
 
 Paths:
 
-- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start
-- Were-Hare: Lepusthropy
-- Tasseomancer: Reading
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand
+- Were-Hare: Lepusthropy, Beast Sense, Hybrid Form
+- Tasseomancer: Reading, Ceremony

src/characters/jarrod.md

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 ---
 title: jarrod
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Wed, 05 Oct 2022 12:18:01 -0600
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:56:09 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Jarrod
@@ -24,4 +24,4 @@ He leans over and places his elbows on the table, tenting his fingers and leanin
 
 Paths:
 
-- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand

src/characters/sneaky.md

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 ---
 title: sneaky
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:56:09 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Sneaky Willows
@@ -19,3 +19,7 @@ With my money I'm plannin' to hire a bard to teach me more music, so I can reall
 - XP: 0
 - Skills: Do Anything 1
 
+
+Paths:
+
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand

src/characters/tea.md

@@ -1,7 +1,7 @@
 ---
 title: tea
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:56:09 -0700
 public: yes
 ---
 ### Tea Filler
@@ -19,3 +19,6 @@ Cash: A sturdy wagon and 5 head of oxen to pull it. I wish to travel further tha
 - XP: 0
 - Skills: Do Anything 1
 
+Paths:
+
+- Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The Hand

src/epistolary/00021.md

@@ -1,74 +0,0 @@
----
-title: 00021
-created: Wed, 05 Oct 2022 07:21:55 -0600
-updated: Wed, 05 Oct 2022 07:21:55 -0600
-public: yes
-syndicated: yes
----
-### 00021 {#00021}
-
-INTERLUDE
-
-> A glorious victory!
-> 
-> In the interim time Corraidhin studies the sword of Y'aml, and correctly deduces that he needs to remove the sticky bit to be able to sheath the thing.
-> 
-> sudo chmod -t sword_of_y\'aml
->
-> The rest of the interim is spent studying arcane lore surrounding the Ginnarak Crystals and their purpose. He also strongly urges the party that we should consider very carefuly how we need to proceed with the crystal. It's obvious people don't want these things getting out, so we should ensure that Blavin has good intentions, or at least leaves us out of whatever potential evil could occur. 
-
-Corraidhin prepares the incantation and, after removing the sticky bit, is able pry his stiff fingers from the grip.
-
-You sheathe the blade, but its voice continues to ring clearly in your head as it prattles on, seeing evil and villainy everywhere and encouraging you to stab, stab, stab.
-
-Your sysorcerous studies, confirmed by the eager and forthright sword, suggest that the blade will be able to rest for a while once it tastes blood.
-
-Your former mentor and rival sysorceror Eccentric Kevin calls on you one day under the pretense of showing you the latest draft of KDL (pronounced "cuddle"), their own "Kevin's Document Language", an alternative syntax for incantations and personal pet project of theirs that has thus far failed, much to their perpetual consternation, to gain any traction or adoption in the wider magic community. They are insufferably polite and sinisterly supportive. They complain about how the obstinant gnus keep standing in the middle of the road trying to block traffic, and they demand to know all about your recent exploits and adventures.
-
-> Once back in town, Inky had the small glass shard in their palm removed by a harried-looking healer, who merely shrugged at Inky's account of the disappearing ink and advised them to return if they experienced adverse effects before hurrying off to the next patient. A visit to the local stationery shop did not yield any answers; the stocky human at the counter shook their head apologetically when shown the broken ink bottle. However, they did suggest asking at one of the larger shops in the city.
-> 
-> To celebrate their first successful quest, Inky made torties[1] for their party with flour ground from some of the large corn kernels at the dig site, topped with a sweet nutty squash spread. Babbleberry tea was served from their newly acquired jade tea set, now patched with what Inky had been assured was an unbreakable seal[2] by a merchant with a toothy grin in one of Vay'Nullar's notorious back alleys.
-> 
-> Master Corraidhín's cautionary words of wisdom still echo in Inky's head, though they were secretly tickled by the idea of the crystal being actually a rare and previously unknown species of melon with very potent magical properties. The very thought of melons was making Inky a bit thirsty. Let the warrior and wizard worry about all the potential evils of the world — it's time for a dash to the market for some beatfruit juice!
-> 
-> ---
-> 
-> [1] Also known as torte-teas, as in "Torte-tea, yas?", which was how their previous ink maestro used to greet customers entering the brewery. Flat little tea cakes with sugar or spice (or both, which vary by region) and sometimes eaten in a loose wrap. Some humans called them "crabs" for some reason which baffled Inky, since the torties had no pincers … at least none that they could see anyway.
-> 
-> [2] The seal attached to the bottom of the teapot and each cup had a glyph of an unknown object between two hands.
-
-The healer removes a small glass bead from Inky's palm. It is worn smooth and round like a marble. If you look closely, you can see a small blemish in the center that somewhat resembles either a duck or a rabbit depending on how you orient it.
-
-It is captivating to look at and comforting to hold in your hand. You fidget with it often. Now and then you suddenly notice you have been gazing at it for some minutes without realizing it.
-
-You make your party a delightful meal of torties, serving tea from the magically reinforced jade set.
-
-Cleaning up afterwards, you can't help but notice the patterns of the tea leaves in the bottoms of the jade cups.
-
-YOU FORESEE AN OMEN FOR THE PARTY. WHAT IS IT?
-
-You dash to the market for beatfruit juice, which you easily find. And you find yourself irrationally drawn to the produce. The kale, dandelion greens, and beans all look especially scrumptious and ... plump and juicy?
-
-An old toothy market attendant sits on a stool by the vegetable stand reading the Farmers Almanac. Unsolicited, they mention to you that it is only three days until the next full moon.
-
-> Jarrod has two things in particular he wants to do when back in town, with whatever his cut of the gold is. First, he wants to go looking for a cheap, run-down building somewhere in town and buy the property if he has enough money (perhaps negotiating a bit where necessary).
-> 
-> Second, he wishes to seek arcane counsel from Corraidhín, perhaps getting a small invocation applied to one of the charms on his arm band. Something in the realm of a fascination spell (with an activation word) that can be used on occasion to draw attention.
-> 
-> Jarrod agrees that we should not invite trouble. We shall tread cautiously with regards to the crystals.
-> 
-> Yum, torties!
-
-After successfully negotiating the price down a little bit, you are able to purchase a run-down building. You are now the proud owner and proprietor of the Milk Market building in the Wandering Bazzar district of downtown Vay'Nullar.
-
-The ground level is occupied by longtime district staple Enrique's Empanada Emporium, famous for its signature stuffed pastries and its Terrapin Ale, brewed on site by Enrique himself, who happens to be a very large humanoid turtle.
-
-It's a little seedy and a little divey, but still draws a fair amount of foot traffic from shoppers waiting for the eponymous, ambulatory bazaar of debatable sentience to wander by. Reliably, a small gang of breadpunks can be found loitering here and espousing the virtues of social anarchy. Enrique allows their presence and on occasion even buys them a round of ale.
-
-The top two levels are unoccupied. Years upon years ago, this space once held large vats for storing and preserving multibeast milk prior to being distributed. Some enterprising individual converted and updated the space some time ago, but was never able to find a tenant. In any case, the space is yours now to do with what you will.
-
-With Corraidhin's assistance, you are able to enchant your armband by inscribing it with a cross-like glyph with a teardrop-shaped loop in place of the vertical upper bar. You now have a FASCINATING BANGLE that can, upon activation, compel attention and even potentially inspire people to dance about.
-
-WHAT DO YOU DO
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00001.html)

src/epistolary/00022.md

@@ -1,159 +0,0 @@
----
-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}
-
-> 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.)
-> 
-> 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?
-> 
-> 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?
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> 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?
-
-You see a complex vision in the bottom of the jade teacups, and learn a little bit about the inks you found.
-
-You grab a copy of the Farmers Almanac to keep on hand.
-
-On your way back from the market, a small duck waddles onto the sidewalk and starts following you.
-
-```
-・゜゜・。。・゜゜\_o< QUACK!
-```
-
-It is small and yellow and cute, and has a little floofy tuft of feathers on the very top of its head.
-
-> Meta: one of my best friends name is Kevin, so I find it extra amusing that the sysorceor is named Kevin.
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> "Corraidhin, STAB HIM, that suggestion, he's definitely going to do something evil with it"
-> 
-> Corraidhin mutters under his breath about the swords insistence to stab everything. Soon my friend, soon.
-> 
-> 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."
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> "A new /home for you then Jarrod?"
->
-> "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!"
-> 
-> "Delightful! If nobody has claimed it I'll take the upstairs loft."
-> 
-> "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?"
-> 
-> "You sir, have a deal, I'll even throw in a warding on Milk Base Alpha!"
-> 
-> Corraidhin begins invoking an arcane warding spell:
-> 
-> ```
-> sudo chown jarrod:team43 /home/Milk_Base_Alpha
-> sudo chmod 770 /home/Milk_Base_Alpha/*
-> ```
-> 
-> "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, `sudo usermod -a -G team43 $user`, 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!"
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> ```
-> 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
-> ```
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> "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?"
-> 
-> 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]
-> 
-> 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]
-> 
-> 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]
-> 
-> 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. 
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-You pass them by, and one of them seems to stare at you intensely as you go.
-
-> 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.
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> 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.
-> 
-> 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.
-
-Enrique, the giant man-turtle, is frustrated.
-
-He keeps finding little tapas in the kitchens. He has no idea who made them, or how they got here. But they are delicious.
-
-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.
-
-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!
-
-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.
-
-~
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-END OF INTERLUDE.
-
-~
-
-CHAPTER 2: MORE CRYSTALS MORE PROBLEMS
-
-Having gotten your personal affairs in order, you have decided to crack on with your job and check in with your case manager.
-
-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.
-
-"Well done, well done, well done!" He enthuses, taking another sip of his drink. "I must say that the Benefactor is *very* impressed with your performance!
-
-"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.
-
-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.
-
-"Now," Blavin beams, gesturing with his drink. "as for your next assignment!"
-
-He brushes some glasses and plates to the edge of the table and rolls out a map.
-
-Basmentaria is a group of island continents that sits between the eastern Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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.
-
-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!"
-
-QUESTIONS:
-
-1. DO YOU HAND OVER THE CRYSTAL TO BLAVIN?
-2. WHICH CRYSTAL DO YOU GO AFTER NEXT?
-3. DO YOU BEFRIEND THE DUCK?
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html)

src/epistolary/00023.md

@@ -1,65 +0,0 @@
----
-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)

src/epistolary/00024.md

@@ -1,61 +0,0 @@
----
-title: 00024
-created: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 13:43:40 -0600
-updated: Sat, 22 Oct 2022 13:43:40 -0600
-public: yes
-syndicated: yes
----
-### 00024 {#00024}
-
-> **Corraidhin**  
-> Well I'll be! You can turn yourself into a dagger. And I did say we could stab blavin if you could do that, it's much more stealthy this way. But let me posit this, is the act of stabbing a hobbit unprovoked not itself evil? Or perhaps more convincingly, would it not be better to use the hobbit for whatever information he has so as to lead to this mysterious benefactor, who most assuredly must be evil. 
-> 
-> Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and plunder cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our target.
-> 
-> Now this isn't to say that we won't stab him. I'm convinced that's probably a good idea in the long run, but we know nothing of the true evil that motivates him! We would kill him just to lose track of the true evil we must smite! 
-> 
-> **Y'aml**  
-> But YOU said if I could turn into a dagger we could STAB him. HE'S EVIL. YOU said so! Not keeping your promises IS one step away from PURE evil! Make a choice Hardy Bear! Stab the evil hobbit, or stab the inkling, or stab SOMETHING evil this minute!
-> 
-> **Corraidhin**  
-> I most certainly cannot abide with stabbing Inky, it's entirely off the table. And in a city like this there aren't any evil things that just jump out for the stabbing. 
-> 
-> (Corraidhin tries to silently control Y'aml during the discussion. However in so doing the party has fallen silent, aghast even)
-> 
-> Corraidhin stands, Y'aml held in hand, red gem eye gleaming a wicked joyful grin as it's raised high, poised to strike.  The party around him is silent, and Blavin stares up in shock. The tavern around them has died down and you can hear the bustle of the proprietor calling for his strong men to deal with this ruckus.
-
-The table---and all of Lucy's Basement within earshot---sits in tense, uneasy quiet at Corraidhin's one-sided conversation with the Sword of Yam'L. Blavin giggles nervously and sips his martini, willfully forcing himself right up to the very last moment to believe that it is all some sort of jest.
-
-But then the sysorcerer stands and raises the blood crazed dagger over his shoulder, and Blavin squeals and writhes in his chair. Lucy's  bouncers scramble forward from the corners of the room to intercept.
-
-> **Y'aml**  
-> We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!
-> 
-> Against Corraidhin's control, as though he's in a trance, the dagger comes down. A swift stabbing motion strqight to the neck, as he lunges across the table at Blavin knocking the map and his martini to the side.
-
-<!--
-Bloodlust 3 to Stabble Stabble
-1 2 4: Partial Success
-//-->
-
-Corraidhin once again feels the same peculiar quality of the blade, that sensation of a hollow core with a heavy liquid sloshing inside. Held aloft, the weight of it feels concentrated at the grip, the blade light as a feather.
-
-He stabs down---Yam'L cries out in wordless glee---and the weight flows into the tip of the blade, the blade itself now drawing Corraidhin's hand downward in a rising crescendo of stabbitude.
-
-<!--
-Do Anything 1 to Resist Bloodlust
-3: Partial Success
-//-->
-
-Blavin flinches at the last second, and instead of burying itself in his throat, the blade plunges into his shoulder and pins him to the back of the chair. A red mist fills the eye and threatens to cloud it over entirely. It rolls back in ecstasy as it drinks deeply. It sings out, "MORE! MORE! MORE!" and Corraidhin feels the tides of madness rising inside of him, threatening to wash over him wholly, to pull him under and carry him away on thundering waves of bloodlust.
-
-Corraidhin struggles to pull the blade from the chair back. Blavin whimpers and mewls as he yanks on it, and clutches his wound and, incredibly, takes a large gulp of his drink.
-
-The sysorcerer still has the wherewithal and the presence of mind to be aware of his surroundings. He is not yet so overcome by the bloodlust. He sees his companions, his fellow residents of the Milk Market, seated around the table. And he sees the musclebound bouncers now nearly within reach.
-
-Finally he draws the dagger. Blavin sinks in his seat and slides to the floor with his drink, blabbering incoherently, and starts to slither away.
-
-WHAT DO YOU DO
-
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html)

src/epistolary/00025.md

@@ -1,175 +0,0 @@
----
-title: 00025
-created: Sun, 23 Oct 2022 09:41:16 -0600
-updated: Sun, 23 Oct 2022 09:41:16 -0600
-public: yes
-syndicated: yes
----
-### 00025 {#00025}
-
-> **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
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html)

src/epistolary/00026.md

@@ -1,87 +0,0 @@
----
-title: 00026
-created: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600
-updated: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 08:27:22 -0600
-public: yes
-syndicated: yes
----
-### 00026 {#00026}
-
-> Inky slowly approaches Master Corraidhín and taps lightly on the
-> sleeve of his robes to get his attention. Between Inky's tugging
-> and Jarrod's strong, steady hand, they manage to hoist the wizard
-> to his feet. 
-> 
-> With a brief glance at the hobbit on the floor then a nod to
-> Jarrod, Inky leaves the nightclub with the wizard. The duck, having
-> emptied the plate of corn chips in record time, follows them
-> shortly after.
-> 
-> The trek back to the Milk Market is mostly silent aside from the
-> occasional mutter and stumbling curse, the mage seemingly having
-> fallen asleep as soon as he landed on the cot in the loft. Inky
-> retreats downstairs after leaving a jug of water, a mug and a small
-> packet of kuding leaves beside the bed.
-> 
-> Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark
-> corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.
-
-~
-
-> " ... and then the Orc Maiden said: 'That's not my club!'"
-> 
-> The room roars with laughter, and Jarrod moves to the bar and puts
-> a bag of coin down. "Serve drinks until this runs out!" Leaning
-> over the bar to the bartender, Jarrod adds in a whisper: "I owe a
-> favour to Lucy's Basement for the trouble. Call it in when needed."
-> 
-> Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his
-> pack, Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.
-> 
-> As Blavin opens his mouth, likely intending to raise all kinds of
-> hell, Jarrod pulls tight on the bandage he is currently applying,
-> drawing a curse from the hobbit. "Shut it! Let's be clear. You've
-> hired us for a dangerous set of jobs, with the understanding that
-> we're dangerous people. There may be 'accidents' on occasion.
-> You've learned something today, and what's more, you lived to
-> absorb your new wisdom."
-> 
-> Jarrod grins as he finishes with the bandage. "We will finish what
-> we have started. We're probably the team with the best chances, I'm
-> sure you'll agree. Are you going to back the winning play here?
-> Either way, your decision won't change our plans. I'm sure you know
-> how to take the win."
-> 
-> Jarrod pats the hobbit's good shoulder in a friendly, but
-> dismissive, way, then turns and saunters out the door, trading
-> small quips with his new (and now very drunk) tavern friends.
-
-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:
-
-1) TO THE SHIPWRECK
-2) BLOODQUEST
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html)

src/epistolary/00027.md

@@ -1,142 +0,0 @@
----
-title: 00027
-created: Tue, 25 Oct 2022 14:14:31 -0600
-updated: Fri, 28 Oct 2022 10:36:42 -0600
-public: yes
-syndicated: yes
----
-### 00027 {#00027}
-
-> 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.
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html)
-

src/epistolary/00028.md

@@ -1,127 +0,0 @@
----
-title: 00028
-created: Sat, 29 Oct 2022 08:36:51 -0600
-updated: Sat, 29 Oct 2022 08:36:51 -0600
-public: yes
-syndicated: yes
----
-### 00028 {#00028}
-
-> ~*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
-
-[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00023.html)
-
-

src/epistolary/00038.md

@@ -0,0 +1,431 @@
+---
+title: 00038
+created: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:25 -0700
+updated: Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:35 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00038 {#00038}
+
+> The mission, party-wise, had been an abject failure.
+> 
+> They had found the crystal, and Master Corraidhín had vanished.
+> Inky wasn't sure which was worse — the appalling lack of
+> water-resistant fireworks surrounding the disappearance, or the
+> bears' ceaseless waterworks in grief over their ghostly
+> counterparts. Said bears plus a giant manta ray were eventually
+> left with the remains of Inky's two snack stashes. (The third was
+> back on the *Diamond Howler*.) The crystal was currently securely
+> hidden away inside the Milk Market, which was for the best. Inky
+> was not about to drag around an inedible melon that could
+> potentially level entire cities, if the wizard's hints about its
+> power were true. The crystal-retrieval missions were a cover anyway
+> — Inky had gotten what they were looking for. The equipment and
+> provisions sponsored by the Benefactor were a handy bonus though.
+> 
+> Inside the tent, Inky adds the finishing flourishes to a package
+> and places it to one side, next to two others of a similar size and
+> a thin envelope already piled inside a padded sack on the ground.
+> The client should be pleased. It had taken longer, but the result
+> had been worth the additional hassle. The envelope, on the other
+> hand … who knew what had become of the previous one, sent in an
+> impulsive fit of post-dive haze once the ship had docked at the
+> port town. Donning a grey fedora, a worn light brown jacket, a
+> flask kettle and a wooden box with carrying straps, Inky the "Tiny"
+> tea seller leisurely sets off for the post office, sack in hand.
+> 
+> It was still a bit strange — if less shocking than the first time
+> it happened — to speak in rabbiton with the postmistress at the
+> counter, although Inky couldn't actually detect any significant
+> differences from the common tongue besides occasionally being
+> reminded they shouldn't be able to understand the sounds at all.
+> Rabbiton or rabbitoff, hare mail couriers are among the fastest
+> across Basmentaria and will ensure any parcels and letters arrive
+> at their recipients in a timely manner. Due to their broad network
+> and high delivery confidence, letters without return addresses were
+> no issue; they can deliver with a valid recipient address, which
+> they are able to verify from an extensive series of registries and
+> course codes before taking the item. So it was that one such
+> envelope containing yet another somewhat unusual recipe was
+> promptly delivered to the Milk Market's ground floor on a blustery
+> Boltday afternoon.
+> 
+> Postage done, Inky wanders through one of the city's seedier
+> districts, peddling cups of hot tea along the way. This had become
+> a daily routine for a little over a month since the Sugrin Sea
+> mission (longer and more sporadically before that whenever the imp
+> was in the city), including a spontaneous fifteen-minute "Tiny
+> Teatime" held in open areas such as small parks, or occasionally in
+> a back alley between several crowded residences. The tea happening
+> had initially been a whimsical response to *Teatime with Tanokuma*
+> and still regularly attracted children when iced drinks were served
+> during the summertime.
+> 
+> Rows of slightly crooked houses sandwiched among acacia trees line
+> a narrow, winding lane. Inky passes the elderly playing tabula
+> surrounded by a small group of onlookers, people chewing on sweet
+> lemongrass or peeling vegetables, hanging up laundry on colourful
+> lines made of scrap rags, children laughing and chasing soapy
+> bubbles with wands dripping from laundry water, and all sorts of
+> activity that made houses into homes. Many of them were frank about
+> not having any spare coins for extras like speciality teas brewed
+> "just like them shops", but gladly accepted a steaming bamboo cup
+> upon realising they needn't pay, if sometimes a little suspiciously
+> at first. Instead of coin, they held a rich font of stories, local
+> legends, folk remedies, cooking methods, insider tip-offs and
+> rumours, which they were often eager to impart to an attentive
+> audience.
+> 
+> Some of the passer-by were always in a hurry, downing the tea as
+> though it were a shot of hard liquor before retrieving a handful of
+> loose coins from a pocket or sock. When Inky smiled and told them
+> there was no charge, most would return a puzzled look or uncertain
+> smile, or roll their eyes, and drop a copper coin into a slot on
+> the lid of the box anyway. A few had promptly walked off wordlessly
+> with snickering faces, as though they had gotten away with
+> something clever. Regardless, it was one of the best ways to see
+> and observe a bustling metropolis. No one took any particular
+> notice of young urchins and vendors selling refreshments, flowers
+> and various trinkets on the streets.
+> 
+> Likewise no one witnessed a tea seller pause near one of the
+> windows at the back of Enrique's Empanada Emporium late in the day.
+> For a while they watch the chef within in action, clearly in his
+> element, before reluctantly pulling away and retreating quietly up
+> the stairs to the second floor. They should wash up and see if
+> their marketing manager is in the mood for some takeout and
+> Terrapin Ale this evening.
+
+~
+
+> Background: Alex isn't young, but in comparison to his whizzened
+> uncle Corraidhin he's the depiction of youth. He has jet black hair
+> and alert blue eyes, and a quiet serenity about him that gives one
+> pause, as though he's constantly calculating. He gives into his
+> passions quickly however, and becomes rather animated when his
+> emotions break loose. He'll be the first to curse his uncle for his
+> foolish endeavors, never quite understanding the sysorcerer's way.
+> Early in life, after the death of his parents, Corraidhin took him
+> under his wing and tried in vain to teach him the ways of magical
+> systems administration. Much to Corraidhin, it only resulted in
+> damaged systems, and a rift with his nephew.
+> 
+> It took years to recover from that, but eventually the two grew
+> close again, though distant nonetheless. That closeness reflects
+> itself in the situation Alex finds himself in now, a mysterious
+> alert from some overly contrived magical system, ruining his
+> perfectly good winning streak. It's not that he was necessary bad
+> at all of that stuff, it just, wasn't as much fun as gambling. And
+> it certainly wasn't as exhillerating as writing malware.
+> 
+> Breaking into a system, smashing it to bites and pieces, watching
+> the carefully wrought design burn in amber and green, now THAT was
+> magic.
+> 
+> META: Alex is like Corraidhin in some aspects, he's younger, more
+> brash, more given to whim and fancy. He's somewhat greedy and
+> craven, attracted to riches far too easily. He's a passionate
+> gambler, not due to his skill, but by virtue of his ability to
+> distract and confuse, which gives him a delightful edge. Some would
+> call it lucky, but he calls it subterfuge. He has some sysorcerer
+> skills, nothing quite as flexible as Corraidhin, but he
+> delightfully wreaks havoc with worms, scrapers, ransom & spyware.
+> If he can't bypass something, he'll delightfully destroy it. If he
+> can't break in, he'll distract someone or something so he can slip
+> by.
+> 
+> (Think rogue + illusion magic, where Corraidhin is straight Wizard)
+> 
+> Introduction: Kev, just give it to me straight, the hell does this
+> Deadman's trigger mean. You can't have a service like that flap,
+> it's a boolean, you're either dead or your not. And don't try to
+> lie to me, I'm not some project managing schmuck, you know full and
+> well Uncle Corraidhin taught me. I know enough to tell when you're
+> lying.
+> 
+> (Kevin) Ah, well, umm. Yes I suppose that's true. You can't be dead
+> and not. It's just not an option. But Zabbix doesn't lie! It's what
+> monitors your Uncle's life force, the state of his infrastructure
+> so to speak. Look check your own, there's nothing to indicate any
+> issue with you, but your uncle's fluxuates consistently. None of
+> his other state checks are failing though! So it could just be a
+> problem with his Deadman's trigger code.
+> 
+> Absolutely not. Corraidhin might be a flighty fool, but he's not
+> someone who would deploy faulty code to production. There's no way
+> in hell it would get past his linter, let alone all of the QA he
+> does before it even gets that far. Look, what the hell did you drag
+> him into, you know exactly what he gets up to, just point me in his
+> direction so I can get this shit over with.
+> 
+> (Kevin) Hmm, he didn't really want me to talk about it, but last I
+> saw him, he was babbling on and on about some magical Json sword or
+> something. I couldn't quite keep up with it.
+> 
+> You were trying to get him to buy into KDL again weren't you?
+> 
+> (Kevin) It's a good language I swear, and if your uncle had just..
+> (Alex cuts him off)
+> 
+> Hush it. What did the sword look like, where was he headed?
+> 
+> (Kevin) *sigh* it was large, with a ruby hilt, and a magical eye of
+> some sort. I'm certain if you just ask around you'll find it. Just
+> ask about the sysorcerer who mutters to his sword, that's how the
+> poor bastard is remembered around here these days.
+> 
+> 
+> With this information Alex departed the Sysorcerer's guild in
+> search of his Uncle. As he asked around town, people shied away.
+> Nasty business talking about that one, they'd tell him. A few
+> mentioned something about an attack, and a dagger and bloodlust the
+> likes of which they'd only heard from the bard at their local
+> tavern. None of this sounded like the Uncle he remembered, but he
+> followed the trail until it lead him to the Milk Maid.
+> 
+> As Alex checked around for someone, anyone who seemed to be in the
+> know, he spotted Inky, serving tea as she watched the ongoings at
+> the Empanada shop near the Milk Maid.
+> 
+> Excuse me, miss? You wouldn't have happened to seen my Uncle, he's
+> an old whizened fellow. Constantly harrumphs and goes on and on
+> endlessly about some magical script, or how much he hates the
+> School of Powershell. I haven't been able to find him, and I've
+> been looking all over the city for the better part of 3 days. Note
+> even his best friend Kevin at the Sysorcer's guild knew where he
+> was, and I'm just, I'm at a bit of a loss..
+> 
+> *sigh* I'm sorry to just unload on your like that. If you don't
+> know him that's okay, I'd be happy to pay for a cup of tea for your
+> time.
+
+~
+
+> *(Two days prior)*
+> 
+> An office, barely illuminated by the glow of a moonstone lamp.
+> 
+> An elf attired in red silk dress robes with a shimmering pattern of
+> butterflies, a red floral picture hat and matching high heel boots
+> lounged in the visitor's chair in front of a heavy wooden desk. The
+> charms dangling from her wrist circlets tinkled as she reached for
+> a teacup. A silver tray was placed to one side of the desk with a
+> pot of maghrebi francus, two porcelain cups and a bowl of sugar
+> cubes. The remaining surface was mostly covered by a map of
+> Basmentaria, the moonstone lamp and a short stack of books. Behind
+> the desk sat an imp in a midnight blue suit, a dart pen balanced on
+> the edge of two fingers of one hand, while the other tapped a
+> silent rhythm on the pineapple leather armrest.
+> 
+> The lady in dress robes spoke first. "I made some inquiries. That
+> sysorcerer acquaintance of yours seems to be stuck in some sort of
+> spatial-temporal loop. The anomalies are usually salvageable given
+> time and expert attention. His nephew is out looking for him now."
+> She hands the imp a sheet with a drawing of a pensive but
+> bright-eyed young man with dark hair, and several lines of notes
+> below. "How are things at your end?"
+> 
+> "The situation is tenable for the moment. One checked, another
+> disengaged. Between the wizard and bard, Blackfoot will think twice
+> before making any more untoward moves. One of the waiters at the
+> club said the bard gave him a little dressing-down after the
+> stabbing. He was practically shaking in his boots by the end of
+> it."
+> 
+> The elf laughed. "I read your earlier missive. Slipping a catalyst
+> into a milk pudding to stir up a bloodthirsty sword? I guess you
+> were pretty sure the thirst wouldn't get out of hand and kill the
+> hobbit outright."
+> 
+> "Not entirely, but the good wizard would fight it with considerable
+> strength of will. That guild of his may be full of white hats too
+> busy with their petty squabbling over semantics to see trouble
+> looming until it smacked them in their faces, but they have their
+> principles and will not give in easily when challenged." The imp
+> grimaced. "An unpleasant matter but arguably a necessity. It was
+> only a matter of time before the cursed sword would find itself a
+> target. May as well put evil to good use."
+> 
+> "You did what you had to do, Ink. And that sailor with the gold
+> eye?"
+> 
+> "Met with an unfortunate … accident. Securing the crystal would
+> have been sufficient, but the horkosgrampus weren't terribly
+> impressed with him. The Benefactor should be relieved. Men of their
+> ilk would sooner sell to the highest bidder." The pen twirled in
+> their hand once, twice, before pausing with the nib pointing
+> downward at a spot on the map. The imp continued, "All the more
+> reason to move as soon as the young man finds his uncle. Kelsun
+> Peak, most likely."
+> 
+> "Right. I'll let the others know if anything happens." She rose to
+> her heels in a whisper of brocade silks. "Do you want an antidote
+> for … ?" She gestured with a slim, graceful hand framed in delicate
+> strands of the gold bracelets towards her companion.
+> 
+> The imp inclined their head slightly in grateful acknowledgement.
+> "No need. The condition is relatively harmless and reversing the
+> effects now might raise suspicion. The postmistress at the Hutcheon
+> Lane branch of Leplus Post was very tickled by it."
+> 
+> "I see. So that's how it is." she replied with undisguised mirth.
+> The imp ignored her smirk. "Please see to it the preparations are
+> carried out. The fate of your beloved operetta house may well
+> depend upon it."
+> 
+> "You would never!" The elven lady exclaimed in mock affront. "No, I
+> wouldn't, even though it is the bane of all fine glassware.
+> However, if the crystals came to less discerning hands …" They
+> shared a solemn look before the elf nodded and swept out of the
+> room, leaving the cloying scent of violets in her path.
+> 
+> ~
+> 
+> Inky gestures wordlessly for the young wizard to follow them
+> upstairs to the second floor of the Milk Market, heading straight
+> for the room at one end of a long hallway.
+> 
+> As Inky enters, their small and fluffy marketing manager pops its
+> head out of the wooden tub of water standing to one side of the
+> room. "We have a visitor!" Inky cheerfully tells the duck. Their
+> marketing manager looks back at them both and says, "QUACK!"
+> 
+> Inky turns back to the young man with a smile. "Please have a seat.
+> How may we address you? Tea? No charge for Master Corraidhín's
+> nephew, of course."
+> 
+> Once seated on some cushions thrown over a slightly ratty tartan
+> rug and having poured out a steaming cup of mandarin pekoe for each
+> of them, Inky begins, "So, about your uncle. The good news is, we
+> know him. The bad news is, we knew him." They then proceed to
+> recount the events of their latest mission at the site of a
+> shipwreck out in the Sugrin Sea, and the elder sysorcerer's
+> disappearance.
+
+Prelude:
+
+A fringe movement of lunatic paleornithologists and crackpots of
+various other professions has slowly been gaining traction over the
+last few decades. The movement was born when the enterprising Modern
+Fuchsia, at the time a budding young scientist on a dig yearning to
+make a name for himself, found the fossil of a modern feathered
+bird---probably some kind of swallow---alongside a theropod, that
+variety of dinosaur widely accepted to be the ancestor of modern
+birds. Faced with what he believed to be irrefutable evidence of a
+modern descendant coexisting alongside its own ancient ancestor,
+Fuchsia arrived at the only conclusion he was capable of making:
+Birds Are Not Dinosaurs. And thus BAND came into being.
+
+Ever since, Fuschia and his BANDits have spent considerable amounts
+of time and energy attending conferences and publishing papers,
+pouting and demanding to be taken seriously by the wider scientific
+community. A community which, if it pays them any attention at all,
+merely mocks and ridicules their crackpot theories.
+
+Modern Fuschia is of course wrong. But neither he nor his BANDits
+know how dangerously close he came to the actual truth.
+
+For much, much deeper in the shadowy fringes of paleornithology,
+there is a clandestine operation called BATT. And only BATT knows the
+actual explanation for how a modern descendant might coexist
+alongside its own ancestor. Birds Are Time Travelers.
+
+In the far future when birds are the dominant intelligent life on
+Basmentaria, they do indeed invent time travel. The end result was
+catastrophic and is the real reason that the dinosaurs went extinct.
+
+It is a common misconception that barn swallows are the most common
+and widespread species of swallow. That distinction in fact belongs
+to the *time swallow*. Although---if you're lucky---you'll never
+actually see one. Since the Incident, the secret agents of BATT have
+vowed never again to interfere with or try to alter the time stream.
+Nor to allow anyone else to. The time swallows are special bred,
+special trained, appearing wherever and whenever an anomaly appears
+to remove it and restore the proper timeline. The tiny birds quite
+literally swallow, consume, and destroy anything that meddles with
+time.
+
+At their headquarters, in the present day, BATT Director Purple
+Martin is delivering a report to his superior. Martin has a throaty
+and rich voice of which he is self-conscious in the presence of his
+superior's persistent silence.
+
+"We have successfully extracted the sysorcerer and have repaired the
+anomaly. The subject is currently under the care of Felixe and is
+expected to make a full recovery. In his possession were a couple of
+interesting artifacts. One Class C sentient object, a sword. And a
+piece of exotica of unknown origin. Our researchers so far suspect
+that it is a sort of reliquary containing both elemental and divine
+arcana. The xot's physical manifestation---a crystalline ore---thus
+far prevents us from determining the precise identity of the arcana."
+
+Director Purple Martin is delivering this report to a lanky, thin man
+folded into an armchair. He wears thin, wire spectacles with round
+lenses, and dangles a walking stick over the arm of the chair as he
+sits. He interrupts Martin with a rare utterance. "The reliquary. I
+shall like to see it."
+
+Now then:
+
+Retrieval Team 43 welcomes Alex into their ranks even as they mourn
+the loss of Corraidhín the Wizened.
+
+It starts off as a somber affair at Lucy's as you all sit around your
+regular table, ensconced and wedged into a corner surrounded on two
+sides by the red velvet curtains that line the walls.
+
+But then the hobbit joins you.
+
+Blavin Blandfoot orders a round of drinks in tribute to Corraidhín.
+And then another round of drinks to welcome his nephew Alex. "A
+family affair, is it not!" And then another round of drinks because
+he is thirsty.
+
+The hobbit is in high spirits, brimming with flair and good cheer.
+His arm is fully healed from the attack over a month ago at this very
+table. His fond memories and frequent toasts to the sysorcerer make
+no reference to the incident.
+
+"The Benefactor is immensely pleased with your performance so far!"
+He punches a new hole in your Frequent Retrieval cards. "You are one
+step closer to winning a FABULOUS PRIZE! I don't mind telling you I'm
+a little jealous. Assuming you go the distance, of course. I mean who
+doesn't love hot dogs and hot tubs!" He winks conspiratorially at
+you. "To say nothing of actually getting to meet the Benefactor! Just
+imagine!"
+
+After a few more drinks he eventually clears a space on the table and
+rolls out a map of Basmentaria. "We once again have two reports of a
+crystal spotting!" He jabs a finger at the mountain range in northern
+Primora. "The first, as you know, has been reported by the zephynos
+high atop Kelsun Peak." 
+
+"The second," his voice quivers with excitement. He looks up at you
+wide-eyed and gestures away from the map into open space. "Is on the
+moon!"
+
+Seated a couple tables away from you is the same trio who were
+present the last time you all met here: a dusty groll, a matted gnu,
+and a curious Ornithologer. The observant among you, if you happened
+to look, would notice that the Ornithologer wears a pinkish purplish
+red armband with the word BAND on it. They listen to your proceedings
+with great interest while trying really hard to look like they're not
+listening. After Blavin's final proclamation, the trio finishes their
+drinks, stands, and starts to leave the dining room.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+- Do you give the second crystal to Blavin?
+- Do you choose to go to Kelsun Peak, or to the moon?
+- Who is the Lady in Red and what does she want?
+- Will Corraidhín recover in the care of Felixe?
+- Who does the Director of BATT report to and what do they want with
+  the 1st Crystal?
+- What's the deal with the Ornithologer's Trio?
+- Who left you the note signed with an iris and apple?
+
+Find out next time on BASEMENT QUEST
+
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00097.html)
+

src/epistolary/00039.md

@@ -0,0 +1,212 @@
+---
+title: 00039
+created: Sat, 19 Nov 2022 07:38:02 -0700
+updated: Fri, 25 Nov 2022 07:11:12 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00039 {#00039}
+
+> Alex silently observes the party and this foolish hobbit, before him
+> three untouched drinks have accumulated. He's a little less
+> enthusiatic about taking drink from strangers, too much risk in that.
+> As Blavin describes this crystal, whatever it may be, he catches a
+> glimpse of the pinkish purplish armband on the party across from
+> them. They don't look out of place given the patrons at the tavern,
+> but he's certain they were listening in on the animated conversation
+> of the hobbit. It could be nothing, or it coule be connected to
+> Corraidhin, best to put a bug on them Alex thinks.
+> 
+> Silently beneath the table and out of site Alex prepares a bug and
+> sets it off to follow the person with the armband. Once the bug
+> catches up to the part it's programmed to perform a tcpdump and
+> capture information streaming around it, and then report back to Alex
+> once full. By no means a perfect method of spying, but it's low
+> energy and can be maintained from great distances without taxing
+> Alex's energy.
+> 
+> As Blavin comes back to the group from his grandoise space commentary
+> Alex begins to question him.
+> 
+> Enough of your theatrics hobbit. Tell me about the mark, you've
+> obviously tipped off the entire tavern as to the whereabouts of
+> whatever it is you're looking for, so give us an edge, something
+> those evesdroppers a table over don't have. And cut this tripe about
+> your benefactor, who is he, and what does he want with this magical
+> baubbles.
+> 
+> As Alex finishes his questions he sits quietly for a moment staring
+> down Blavin.
+> 
+> During this outburts, as all eyes turn to Blavin for his response,
+> Alex casts yet another bug. This one sneaks onto the personage of
+> Blavin himself. Programmed the same way.
+> 
+> We'll get information from someone, subtle, or not if needed. 
+
+~
+
+> Inky watches with faint amusement as a magical device, likely a
+> probe, found its way onto their mission handler.
+> 
+> Inky might have missed the slight movement under the table if they
+> weren't waiting for it, having received word of the younger wizard's
+> penchant for pre-emptive offence magic. As it were, the offices and
+> surrounding premises were routinely swept for similar devices, a more
+> recent example of which had been placed in plain sight by an
+> overzealous tabloid writer hoping to pick up an exclusive reveal. The
+> quality of the contraption, which had immediately fallen apart when
+> detached from its gum adhesive on the back of a glass vase, had been
+> almost insulting.
+> 
+> It seems Blackfoot hadn't learned his lesson after all, and if Alex
+> was keen to give him a reminder, Inky had no objection. As Blavin
+> takes another swig from his sixth drink of the evening, the waitress
+> smiling at him with a wink as she set down their glasses before
+> skating away to take another order (Inky made sure tip her liberally
+> for the attentive service), Inky let their line of sight flicker to a
+> fuchsia-coloured band on a departing customer's arm.
+> 
+> Inky smiles internally at the sight — they can almost hear Beaker's
+> crow of dismay. The poor kingfisher had been under increased pressure
+> of late from other scientific associations and prominent speakers to
+> exclude BAND from presenting at one of the largest annual ornithology
+> conferences of the year on accusations of spreading misinformation
+> and junk science in addition to attempting to erase the history of
+> native bird tribes. There had been a huge row, which ended with the
+> BANDits storming off, yelling about "the proof being crystal clear"
+> and that they will bring "ancient arcane evidence". The Alcedinian
+> researcher had lamented the halcyon days when conferences were
+> avenues for scientific exchange, not twittering soapboxes. Not that
+> anyone who had ever tried to arrange any gathering of birds of a
+> feather really thought things simply glided along smoothly before.
+> However, the advent of dedicated carrier pigeon networks had made it
+> easier to relay research to and from smaller communities, opening the
+> pathways for their participation, including a few somewhat
+> Controversial fringe groups like BAND.
+
+Alex attempts to shake down the hobbit, who titters merrily at his
+demands.
+
+"You know nearly everything I do, dear! Your *mark* as you put it,"
+Blaven theatrically drops his voice as he looks around for
+eavesdroppers, "would be the zephynos of Kelsun Peak should you
+choose to go that route.
+
+"If you choose to go to the moon, you'll have a harder go of it," he
+frowns. He flips the map over and draws four circles in a straight
+line. They have the proportions of a grapefruit, an orange, a
+tangerine, and an orange. He jabs a finger at the grapefruit. "This
+is us, here, earth." He points at the two oranges and the tangerine.
+"And these are our planet's moons." He points to them in order.
+"Selene, the Green Lady. Moonmoon. And Lua, the Red Lady. Recently,
+as you well know, we had a super eclipse in which these four bodies
+and the sun all lined up in perfect alignment. The combined magnetic
+pull of the spheres allowed a rare commingling of the ionic spheres,
+and our instruments were able to detect the crystal somewhere out
+there in space. If I were to bet on it, I would put my money on Lua."
+He points to the farthest moon, the Red Lady, with its own tiny
+satellite, Moonmoon. He looks up at you and explains, "She's far
+enough away that her ionosphere would never make contact with ours
+except for in this particular, rare circumstance. That's why the
+crystal has escaped our detection for so long."
+
+"As for the Benefactor!" He brightens up. "He's a magnificent fellow
+as you well know! A renowned collector. His wishes are to preserve
+the crystals and protect them (and us!) from their misuse or
+mishandling! He has a hot tub!" he winks at you. "Speaking of
+crystals," he adds as an afterthought, taking another sip of his
+drink, "why don't you hand that crystal over to me and I'll deliver
+it to the Benefactor. That is what he's paying you for after all!"
+
+<!--
+Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on the Ornithologer Trio
+4, 5 = Mixed Success
+//-->
+
+The Ornithologer's Trio leaves Lucy's Basement quite oblivious to
+their bug. The Ornithologer turns out to be the orator of their
+little group, ranting about the conspiracy, the attempted cover up,
+about how Big Science wants to convince you that birds are dinosaurs
+but they're just pulling the wool over your eyes. The truth is right
+there in the fossil record for crying out loud! All you have to do is
+look for yourself. Nobody these days wants to *think* is the problem.
+They just get their information from the authorities and take it as
+gospel, but they don't see that the authorities have adopted a
+narrative that suits their own ends.
+
+At which point the groll interjects and asks what is the end goal of
+Big Science, and how exactly does convincing the proletariat that
+birds are dinosaurs help achieve it?
+
+The BANDit scowls and answers, Look, you just don't get it, okay!
+
+The three split up and go their separate ways and disappear into the
+night.
+
+You learn the following, one of which is true, one of which is false,
+and one of which is meaningless.
+
+1. BAND plans to intercept the CRYSTAL of VOID and use it to petition
+the Insatiable Wyrm for definitive proof that Birds Are Not
+Dinosaurs. In this way they shall shame their fellow
+paleornithologists and earn their rightful place at the table of Big
+Science, which they have spent decades undermining.
+
+2. The Gnu Zealots intend to reverse engineer the power of the
+crystals, create a newborn godling, and then release their findings,
+thus laying the foundation of the world's first truly open source
+religion
+
+3. The trio seeks the crystals not at all, but in fact search for
+Sitopotnia, creator and progenitor of the entire amaizeon
+race---including corbits, aurs, centaurs, and others---and the only
+mortal in the history of Basmentaria to successfully take the mantle
+of creation from the overgods.
+
+<!--
+Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on Blaven
+1, 3 = Things go poorly, gain 1 xp
+//-->
+
+Meanwhile, Blaven slips out into the early, early morning carrying
+his own bug. He whistles tunelessly to himself as he sails down the
+street with a wide and veering but surprisingly steady gait.
+
+Once he gets a few blocks away, his gait narrows and his step becomes
+more lively, a bit jaunty. He stands upright and ceases whistling.
+All signs of drunkenness disappear as he tugs on his sleeves and
+straightens his vest, and runs a hand through his hair.
+
+He meets a goblin catcher in the street going the other way, wearily
+making his way home after a long night's work. He wears a tiny goblin
+in a glass jar around his neck, as is the signifier of his trade. And
+he carries over his shoulder a large cloth sack, the contents of
+which writhe and kick. Looks like it was a productive night for our
+goblin catcher! Blaven gives him a little bow and a salute, laughs,
+and pats him on the back in passing, deftly transferring the bug.
+"Good night for it then ey?" he calls cheerily. The goblin catcher
+smiles politely, mumbles a nicety, and carries on.
+
+Later, hidden safely away from spying eyes and listening ears, Blaven
+sits at his desk, putting the final flourishes on a missive. He sits
+back and re-reads it to himself, lips moving silently. He nods and
+smiles, satisfied, and reaches for a stamp to sign the letter. He
+presses it into a dark red ink pad and then onto the parchment,
+leaving the image of an apple and iris. He sands the paper, carefully
+folds it, and places it in an envelope.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+Note: Feel free to back up and play out some more conversation at
+Lucy's before Blavin leaves if you want to.
+
+Options on the table:
+
+- To the mountains!
+- To the moon!
+- Something else!
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00103.html)
+
+

src/epistolary/00040.md

@@ -0,0 +1,216 @@
+---
+title: 00040
+created: Sun, 27 Nov 2022 01:30:42 -0700
+updated: Wed, 14 Dec 2022 05:41:15 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00040 {#00040}
+
+> As Blavin finished his afterthought about handing over the crystal,
+> a yelp was the only warning they heard before a young waiter was
+> suddenly half-sprawled over the hobbit, a tray of ginger beers
+> toppled from his hand and the mugs' contents splashed onto the
+> hobbit's front, though fortunately some of it ended up in a large
+> puddle on the ground rather than on Blavin's person. The waiter had
+> tripped over a bag on the floor on his way to the table two over
+> from theirs and was scrambling to his feet.
+> 
+> "By Nullar's nuts, I— OH SH——!! S-s-sorry, sir! Hold on, l-lemme
+> get— uh—" the waiter looked around frantically. The waitress who
+> had brought their drinks rushed over with some clean dry towels, a
+> few of which she handed to the other waiter, and they both
+> proceeded to wipe and dab at Blavin's damp clothes amid the hapless
+> waiter's babbled apologies. Under the cover of the towels, the
+> waitress patted down the hobbit's vest and replaced the sheaf of
+> papers she had covertly lifted from one of the vest pockets earlier
+> with a beguiling smile and wink. Once the beer on the floor had
+> been cleaned up (the despondent young waiter had offered to pay for
+> Blavin's next two rounds of drinks) and the waiters had moved on to
+> serve other customers, Inky spoke.
+> 
+> "You don't mind that we prefer to deliver it to the Benefactor
+> personally, of course," Inky piped cheerily, referring to the
+> crystal. "The late wizard thought it was prudent to cover our bases
+> since you're a new, untested case manager after all. Besides, a
+> little delayed gratification never hurt anybody, did it?" Inky
+> smiled and raised their drink. "Another toast in tribute to Master
+> Corraidhín! May his courage and buoyant spirit guide us on our next
+> mission!"
+> 
+> ~
+> 
+> When Inky stepped out of the tavern and was a few paces away,
+> someone clattered through the door and called out, "Hey! You forgot
+> your takeout!"
+> 
+> Inky turned in the direction of the voice. It was the waitress who
+> had served their table earlier. She waved a brown paper bag in one
+> hand. Inky gave her an embarrassed smile and said, "Thanks." As the
+> bag changed hands, the waitress mouthed soundlessly, *We'll report
+> any more.* She went back inside, and Inky strolled off into the
+> cool night air with the bag securely tucked away next to a tea
+> pouch and a more pressing question: what blend would go best with
+> fried tofurkey balls?
+> 
+> ~
+> 
+> *(Meanwhile)*
+> 
+> "The BANDit and his associates had gone to the tavern." His
+> assistant looked up from the scrap of paper held under a claw.
+> 
+> Beaker heaved a sigh and rubbed the tips of one wing against his
+> forehead. Surely he had better things to do than play Eye Spy over
+> a bunch of crackpots, such as peer reviewing the latest draft of a
+> paper on the development of Cerylidian hunting techniques for an
+> upcoming issue of *The Ichnition*. But Cio seemed to think
+> something may come of it and unfortunately, she was usually right
+> about troublemakers.
+> 
+> "Tell them to continue tailing from a distance," he replied with a
+> distracted wave, and his assistant left the room.
+> 
+> Anyway, if he had the spare time, he could look at more interesting
+> things, like the data he had collected surrounding the
+> disappearance of the time anomaly that had popped up a few weeks
+> ago. It had happened gradually, and he still wasn't entirely sure
+> what had caused this particular incident, but the signals picked up
+> by his instruments had later faded, just like other ones before it.
+> Still, it was comparatively larger than previous ones, and seemed
+> to have taken slightly longer to dissipate, which meant more data
+> points.
+> 
+> He stole another glance at his Dat repositories before sighing
+> again, swivelling his chair and attention back to the manuscript
+> before him. Work first … then more work.
+
+~
+
+> The party dispersed after the discussion with Blavin. Nobody had
+> wanted to relinquish the crystal to him, personally Alex felt that
+> was prudent, though he still wasn't sure what the point of it all
+> was. The foolish hobbit had blathered on and on about their "mark"
+> tactfully ignoring the real questions. And then the bug, damn it,
+> the bug that chittered on about absolutely nothing for hours. It
+> didn't take Alex too long to figure out why, but he clung to the
+> transmission until it died out hoping he'd be mistaken.
+> 
+> So there he sat, in the attic of his once Uncle, staring bleakly
+> into a cup of dark black coffee. The desk strewn with hastily
+> scratched notes pulled from the bugs feeds. At least the one that
+> had tracked that nosey group had proved somewhat helpful. Turns out
+> this little group has less friends than a drunk who's run up their
+> tab.
+> 
+> Still, there's no point to share any of this information. It's too
+> loose, not definitive enough to action with the group.
+> 
+> Alex begins to pen a message to an fellow operative, in hopes that
+> HQ will pick it up and assign someone to the task.
+> 
+> ```
+> <- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
+> -> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
+> 
+> CLEARANCE: SECRET
+> PACKET ENCLOSED. YOUR EYES ONLY.
+> 
+> REQUESTING DETAIL ON BLAVIN
+> EMPLOY OF "THE BENEFACTOR"
+> PERCEPTIVE, AWARE OF BUGS.
+> DO NOT CONTACT, DO NOT DISRUPT
+> EXTREME CAUTION IMPERATIVE.
+> ```
+> 
+> Once penned Alex encrypts it with GPG and sends it along. These
+> channels have worked well for him in the past. If Blavin wants to
+> play games, then games we shall have.
+> 
+> "I hate to do this" Alex mumbles to himself. "Normally I'd trail
+> him myself, but I don't think I have much say in the matter." As it
+> stands the group is dead set on gathering more of these cyrstals,
+> regardless of what the danger may be, and if Alex wants to find his
+> Uncle, they're his best bet in doing so. Blavin doesn't even matter
+> outside of that. But if he can help the group reach their end
+> faster, or force the information out of Blavin, perhaps it can come
+> sooner..
+> 
+> Alex lets out another sigh and glances wistfully around the gloomy
+> attic room. It looked just like he remembered his Uncle's office
+> looking like at the College of Sysorcerery when he had taught
+> there. He always was so particular. Pushing his chair away and
+> grabbing his coffee he wanders to the bookshelf where a large
+> steamer chest sits beside it. The bookshelf is covered in
+> manuscripts, "Practical Common Lisp", "The C Programming Language
+> Vol 2", "RHEL 5 Systems Administration", each one arcane and well
+> worn. And the amount of volumes, sometimes it's a wonder Corraidhin
+> had time to do anything other than read.
+> 
+> "Maybe if I had been a little more studious I'd know how to help
+> you.." as he pulls "A Guide to Backups and All Things Necessary"
+> off of the shelf a knife falls out of the book, and clatters onto
+> the floor glaring malevolently up at Alex.
+
+Your gondola lift finally rises above the thick layer of clouds. The
+sudden flash of clear blue sky is a revelation after ascending for
+nearly 60 minutes through clouds so thick you couldn't see through
+the foggy windows more than three feet. Above you towers rocky,
+imposing Kelsun Peak. You can just see a tiny portion of the hotel
+roof through a cleft in the rocks. Below you, a frozen turbulent
+ocean of clouds dotted with twisting leaning spires and spiraling
+branching towers, all made out of solid cloudstuff. Handiwork of the
+whimsical and industrious zephynos.
+
+You spot two or three of them now, leaping and diving playfully
+through the clouds like dolphins, spinning the clouds like yarn, and
+packing them into solid constructs. Their current project resembles a
+garden of outlandish, distorted tubas, french horns, and trombones.
+
+The small cloud dragons are about 6 - 8 feet long including their
+thick tails. They have wide faces with round lidless eyes, and always
+seem to be smiling. Their heads are topped with multiple pairs of
+filamented stalks. They have six short, stubby arms with long thin
+fingers that they use to knead and pull clouds into solid shapes.
+
+They build ceaselessly and mostly for the sake of building: they have
+no apparent need for the structures themselves, living as they do
+floating among the clouds. On occasion they have been entreated to
+build on behalf of others. And the rare floating palace or city can
+still be found drifting around Basmentaria as a result. The great
+city of Vay'Neddas---tethered to the ground by great chains to
+Primora in the north and Agendell in the south---is one of their
+greatest enduring works.
+
+You approach the gondola station at the base of Kelsun Peak, and exit
+your cable car as it slowly rounds the bullwheel. There are two
+toques---presumably meant to be operating the lifts---standing off to
+the side, ignoring their responsibilities, complaining loudly to
+nobody and everybody about being forced to work long hours and being
+unfairly compensated. The tips of their soft, conical heads slump
+forward, calling to mind revolutionaries, or smurfs.
+
+It is wicked cold as you step out onto the platform and the wind nips
+and bites at you relentlessly.
+
+At the edge of the platform, foggy white steps made of firm
+cloudstuff climb up around the side of the mountain peak to the
+Palace Runesocesius. Once the conspicuously extravagant residence of
+one of Basmentaria's most powerful politicians, it has since---after
+its owner fell from public favor and was routed out---been gutted and
+transformed into a luxury hotel of equally conspicuous extravagance.
+It continues to be one of the highest inhabitable places on
+Basmentaria.
+
+Two small toques at the base of the steps rush forward to meet
+you---the floppy tips of their coneheads waggling side to side in
+their exuberance---and introduce themselves as Confidence and Bread,
+your guides. They have been instructed to guide you up to
+Runesocesius where you will take posession of the Ginnarak Crystal.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00186.html)
+
+
+

src/epistolary/00041.md

@@ -0,0 +1,93 @@
+---
+title: 00041
+created: Wed, 14 Dec 2022 17:50:38 -0700
+updated: Wed, 14 Dec 2022 17:50:44 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00041 {#00041}
+
+> Alex grips the encoded message he received in reply to his last
+> request firmly in his coat pocket. It was simple, curt, impactful.
+> "Trust no one". Which begged the question, could even it be
+> trusted? Was HQ compromised? His informants in danger? His allies
+> and leads awash in the dark grey mist of uncertainity. Or had his
+> message been intercepted, cracked, and a farsical response been
+> sent in its place. Alex wasn't certain which, but the strange
+> format and unusually speedy response had him on edge.
+> 
+> This anxiety didn't boil up to the surface, not a line of worry or
+> hint of the inner turbulence broke his cold blue eyes. Outwardly he
+> was just as composed as ever,  but between these uncertainties, the
+> loss of his uncle, and now this utterly strange dagger he'd found
+> amongst his uncle's belongings, he wasn't certain how long that
+> composure would last. It didn't held that he felt this gnawing at
+> the back of his mind, as though something was probing, attempting
+> to communicate with him, somewhere between telepathy and utter
+> magic, and not in any sense that Alex understood.
+> 
+> And here he stood, a stranger amongst amidst his uncle's allies,
+> and very little intention to change that situation at the moment.
+> 
+> As the gondola touched down and the Toques rushed to greet them
+> Alex jumped blithely off the ship and onto firm, but fluffy,
+> ground. He cast a look around him at what appeared to be an
+> ordinary port of entry, noting the crowds of people passing by. As
+> the Toques arrived Alex spoke curtly to them, "Who sends you to
+> greet us, and where do you wish to take us, and by what means do we
+> travel?". Short, cut, information only. There's too much unnerving
+> in an unknown situation like this.
+
+~
+
+> Inky greets the toques in turn politely, then turns to the second
+> toque and says, "A little bit of bread and no cheese."
+
+"Cheese?" Bread cocks their head looks at Inky with a touch of
+embarrassment. They start patting at their pockets, presumably
+looking for a morsel of cheese to share with the travelers, but
+finding none. They groan miserably. Confidence butts in
+apologetically, "There will be plenty of food at the hotel if you
+want some! Some delicious fondue perhaps? Kelsun Peak's famous liquid
+gold!"
+
+"Blavin Blandfoot arranged for us to meet you," Bread answers Alex.
+Confidence nods enthusiastically in agreement. "But I suppose
+technically the hotelier sent us." Bread points up at the sky, in the
+general direction of the summit of Kelsun Peak. "We are to escort you
+to Palace Runesocesius." They thumb over their shoulder in the
+general direction of the stairs. "By way of the cloud steps. On
+foot."
+
+Confidence leans in close and lowers their voice. "A Ginnarak
+Crystal! I can't hardly believe it! Thought they had all been lost to
+the ages. I hear it's complete dumb random luck that this one turned
+up. Story is, an aetherwael beached itself on some wide zephynos
+boulevard. Happens sometimes. Poor things can't distinguish between
+clouds and cloudstuff. I don't blame 'em! At a distance, you and me
+can't either! Anyway, this aetherwael has got a harpoon stuck in its
+side. Dratted poachers. May they all fall out of the sky and be
+dashed to a thousand pieces on the rocks below. But it had a harpoon
+in its side and was trailing behind it a float bag tethered to the
+harpoon. And you probably already guessed what was inside of it!" By
+the time Confidence finishes their brief story, they are trembling
+and nearly breathless with excitement.
+
+"Anyway," Bread interrupts their excited companion in an attempt to
+restore decorum. Both of the toques have been gently herding you
+toward the base of the stairs this whole time. "You know how the
+zephynos are. You could give them all the coin in Basmentaria, or
+something priceless like a Ginnarak Crystal, and they'd just as
+quickly misplace it out of carelessness. If it's not a cloud they can
+sculpt into the shape of seussomorph or the likeness of some fantasy
+creature, they just don't give a fig. Luckily the hotelier caught
+wind of the aetherwael and found out about the crystal before they
+managed to lose it, or bury it inside of a sculpture or something
+silly! He has it safe and sound in the library up at Runesocesius
+now." Bread climbs the first step, his foot sinking barely a
+centimeter into wispy cloud before striking the solid cloudstuff.
+"Come! The hotelier will be very excited to greet you!"
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00193.html)

src/epistolary/00042.md

@@ -0,0 +1,154 @@
+---
+title: 00042
+created: Sat, 17 Dec 2022 08:01:41 -0700
+updated: Sat, 17 Dec 2022 08:01:48 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00042 {#00042}
+
+> This seems a bit strange. Certainly Blavin has been pulling strings
+> from behind the scenes the whole time, but why coordinate a special
+> escort for us when there are other retrieval teams, and we've been
+> less than amicable with the bloke the entire time.. Alex thinks to
+> himself.
+> 
+> *DM: I'd like to check for any signs of deceit in the toques
+> demeanor or communcations with us*
+> 
+> Confidence you said right? What would you do if I simply chose not
+> to accompany you? I mean, there's a whole city around us, perhaps
+> I'd prefer a drink before climbing a mountains worth of stairs. Or
+> better yet, I could get back on the boat and ride to the top and
+> same myself the hassle.
+
+Bread once again looks confused. Confidence looks surprised, caught
+off guard.
+
+<!--
+Alex rolls Investigation 2 to check for signs of deceit
+3 5 = Partial Success / Success at Cost
+//-->
+
+Confidence sputters, "Well, yes, of course. You've been traveling for
+some time now, haven't you? I can assure you that the food and drink
+at Runesocesius will be better than anything you can get here! But
+the choice is entirely yours. Feel free to avail yourself of the
+local offerings. We will wait here at the steps for you."
+
+Bread nods slowly, and seems to trailing behind the conversation just
+a second or two.
+
+Their reactions seem genuine to you despite the circumstances. They
+seem like a couple of low level employees of a luxury hotel earnestly
+trying to follow the instructions they've been given.
+
+There are a couple of stalls and vendors set up around the gondola
+station. Many of them serve mulled wine and hot chocolate. There is
+some edible fare. Hot sandwiches and pitas. Nothing that an empanada
+from Enrique's wouldn't put to shame. But they look hot and steamy,
+and of great comfort to anybody who might be hungry and cold. There
+are a few fire pits, next to which there are long benches with
+blankets, where you might sit and warm up for a bit.
+
+The gondola lift ends here, and does not continue up to the mountain
+any further. The cloud steps are the most common way to get up to the
+peak, and to the Runesocesius. But you're pretty sure one or two of
+the stalls here offers balloon rides up to the peak for thrill
+seekers and for those with accessibility needs.
+
+> "I think you already know I'm interested in neither bread nor
+> cheese, the second of which I certainly did not ask for yet you
+> tried to offer in your hasty pretence." Inky smiles thinly at the
+> toques.
+> 
+> Taking out a small bag of gold coins and weighing it slowly on one
+> hand to the sound of coins clinking inside the pouch, Inky
+> continues, "Speak, answer our questions frankly and you will be
+> rewarded. The hotelier up there need not know. Breathe a word of
+> our little chat to another soul, however …" Inky's gaze cut briefly
+> to four snow ravens perched atop a spiral lamp post and back, "and
+> you will learn the meaning of disappearing without a trace."
+
+Bread looks confused. You are starting to believe it is their default
+expression. "So, you *don't* want no chee---"
+
+"Our only desire is to help!" Confidence hastily interrupts. He
+smiles pleasingly. "We are your guides! Not just physically up the
+steps, but in all things here on Kelsun Peak. You have but to ask,
+and if it is within our power to give it, it will be yours! We are
+but humble ser---"
+
+And just then Confidence is also suddenly interrupted. A thundering
+boom like a canon sounds from somewhere nearby, followed quickly by
+an explosion somewhere up above. Snow ravens fly off in all
+directions in a panic. The sound ripples through the mountaintop,
+rattling the ground on which you stand. A bunch of small rocks and
+two large boulders shake loose from the mountainside. Shoppers and
+travelers shout and duck for cover as they are pelted by the scree.
+One of the large boulder bounces clear over the station and plummets
+down the side of the mountain before disappearing into the cloud
+ocean below. The second one falls straight toward the platform. A
+vendor selling wreaths and candles dives out of the way as his stall
+is crushed by the boulder. A bench is toppled over, spilling its
+blankets into the fire pit, and catches fire, quickly spreading to
+another nearby stall.
+
+Bread looks up at the sky, confused. You see a thin line of black
+smoke starting to rise up into the sky from over the ridge where the
+Runesocesius lies. Confidence shouts, and you see him pointing at the
+sea, where a balloonship is rising up out of the cloud bank, sailing
+quickly toward you and the summit of Kelsun Peak.
+
+It resembles a seafaring ship, but instead of masts and sails, it has
+two large, colorful, patchwork balloons that provide it lift. A large
+fan on a pivot at the rear of the ship provides thrust. As you watch,
+it fires a second canon---that *is* what the sound was!---nearly
+straight up, arcing up and over the peak at Palace Runesocesius.
+
+The crew of the ship bustle around on the deck of the ship, reloading
+the canons, firing the balloons, shouting, giving and following
+orders.
+
+"Cyberplasms," groans Confidence, and Bread whimpers. Alex, that
+quiet, dull, static roar that has been constantly tickling the back
+of your head ever since you found that dagger seems to rise in pitch
+and in tone. It conveys a sense of urgency, of warning. You can
+*almost* hear a desperate voice behind the static fuzz cautioning
+you, "Evil..."
+
+The only corporeal element of the crew are their cybernetic
+enhancements. A mechanical leg. A synthetic eye. A claw, a hook, a
+hand. An arm canon. Almost all of them have more than one, some as
+many as 3 or 5. The cybernetic pieces of each individual crew member
+are held together by plasmic energy arcs, crackling blue and green.
+And surrounding the bioware and the plasmic arcs of each crew member,
+like a blanket or a cocoon, is the translucent, wavering, ghostly
+form of some humanoid long-dead.
+
+The figure standing on the deck surveying the work of the rest of the
+crew---presumably the captain---has a synthetic eye rotating freely,
+360 degrees in all directions, inside its skull-like head; a bulky
+arm canon; and a thin robotic leg terminating in a thick boot.
+Plasmic blasts arc through its core, sometimes disrupting and
+glitching its ghostly body.
+
+The captain raises its arm canon and shouts to the crew. Its voice
+carried on the breeze sounds like something otherworldly rising
+slowly from the murky deep. "Fire the canon, boys! And fire up the 
+balloons! Drop the ballast! That crystal is *ours!*"
+
+It happens very quickly: the ship ascends to the summit and soon is
+firing grappling hooks at it to pull themselves in and breach the
+walls of the hotel.
+
+Bread looks at you, wide-eyed and trembling. They let loose a pitiful
+wail and turn and start running up the steps. "Bread!" Confidence
+yells after them. They cast a backward glance at you. "I've got to
+help Bread! We've got to save the hotel!" And they give chase to
+their fellow toque, bounding up the cloudstuff steps.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00203.html)
+

src/epistolary/00043.md

@@ -0,0 +1,110 @@
+---
+title: 00043
+created: Mon, 19 Dec 2022 08:03:20 -0700
+updated: Mon, 19 Dec 2022 08:03:25 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00043 {#00043}
+
+> Pirates?! Again?! Alex groans, unfortunately he's run into this crew
+> of dastardly mostly cybernetic punks in the past. Nasty group back
+> home, always kept the precinct busy. Not necessarily with the
+> detective work, it was always a little obvious when they showed up.
+> They have a flair for the dramatic.
+> 
+> Alex shouts to Inky & Jarrod "Come on, we need to get in one of those
+> balloons and fast!" he then darts off in the direction of the nearest
+> abandoned balloon in the market place, not looking to see if his
+> companions had followed him.
+> 
+> *internally* I know these guys have pulled off smaller heists, they
+> could just be attacking the hotel to plunder riches from its guests.
+> They don't seem the likes of a retrieval team.. Then again, that
+> Blavin fellow has multiple teams working for him, and he doesn't seem
+> all too picky about how they get the job done, it wouldn't be
+> surprising if he'd hired some brigands hoping they'd get the gems
+> faster.
+> 
+> Alex conjures up another bug, a stag beetle this time, and casts it
+> away at the pirate ship. It'll probably take some time to catch up,
+> but once it does we'll be able to keep an eye on the pirate's ship
+> and general actions, at least within line of sight of the bug.
+> 
+> As Alex reaches the balloon he grabs the ruby hilted dagger and cuts
+> the mooring lines keeping it down, and jumps into the basket
+> preparing for take off.
+
+You spot a balloon that has already been knocked half loose of its
+mooring by the pirate attack. The basket is listing to the side and
+tugging at the one remaining rope tying it down Its owner scurries
+around in circles trying to secure it.
+
+The vertical panels of the balloon are all different colors, creating
+a brilliant rainbow pattern. The large woven basket is large enough
+for maybe three people.
+
+You leap inside, swinging the ruby hilted dagger at the remaining
+mooring line. The balloon owner cries out in dismay. The basket
+shifts beneath your feet as the balloon tugs it skyward.
+
+In the burner, a small sunspoke---a minor fire elemental---is merrily
+burning away, producing a modest flame that is hot enough to lift the
+balloon slowly above the market into the sky. There is a knob valve
+on the side of the burner to allow more oxygen to flow in, thereby
+feeding the sunspoke and encouraging it to burn more intensely and
+raise the balloon higher and faster. The valve is currently only
+about one third open.
+
+A pile of blankets in one corner of the basket---and that area of the
+basket itself---is covered in blood. Somebody injured in the pirate
+attack must have temporarily climbed into the basket looking for
+cover? As you're about to look away, something large-ish (small for a
+human, large for an animal) under the blankets shifts and moves.
+
+> Inky stares after Alex's sprinting figure before shrugging and
+> stepping towards one of the stalls selling sandwiches bowled over
+> by one of the large boulders. They place some loose change on the
+> stall's wooden sign that had tipped over on the ground and pocket
+> one of the sandwiches displayed inside an open chest oven. Next,
+> they pick up several of the scented candles scattered on the ground
+> by the crash, throwing some coins in the direction of the
+> disoriented vendor before continuing at a leisurely pace up the
+> steps to the hotel, taking in the balloonship and surrounding
+> scenery. The members of their merry party arriving first can hold
+> their own as well as the fort of a hotel.
+
+You do a little leisurely shopping as the vendors and other shoppers
+put out fires and tend to the injured. With a couple scented candles
+and a sandwich safely in your pocket, you start to climb the cloud
+steps, enjoying the scenery as you go. Bread and Confidence have
+quite a bit of a head start on you, and are nowhere to be seen. As
+the stairway winds around the mountainside, the market and its bustle
+recede from view, and soon you are quite isolated and alone.
+
+The majesty of creation is humbling here: the endless, roiling ocean
+of cloud; the towering mountain of rock. It's as though this was the
+creator's playground when they were still trying to figure out scale.
+Before they quite got it right for human-sized creatures.
+
+About halfway up your climb, it starts raining sheets of paper. You
+snatch one and read it. Some heroic fantasy about slaying demons and
+facing great peril. You grab another. A bodice-ripping romance.
+Another. A gourmand's food tour of Basmentaria, eating their way from
+coast to coast. A murder mystery whodunnit. An aetherwael handler's
+guide to interplanetary travel. How to grow your own fortified
+pumpkins. On the Care and Maintenance of Fortles. The Rise and Fall
+and Rise of Palace Runesocesius. Within a minute, you have fists full
+of an entire library's worth of snippets and passages.
+
+~
+
+It looks as though Alex will approach the hotel by balloon from the
+non-pirate side. And Inky's approach by stair will deposit them at
+the hotel entrance, roughly pirate-adjacent.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00217.html)
+
+

src/epistolary/00044.md

@@ -0,0 +1,52 @@
+---
+title: 00044
+created: Tue, 20 Dec 2022 08:47:08 -0700
+updated: Tue, 20 Dec 2022 08:47:11 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00044 {#00044}
+
+> As Alex spots the sunspoke valve he grabs it and cranks it up to the
+> 2/3 mark. "Sorry little friend, we're going to need a little bit more
+> juice". The baloon lurches upwards as air rushes in feeding the
+> sunspoke, causing it to burn more intensely. After setting the
+> sunspoke ablaze and shouting back to the balloon's owner Alex takes
+> account of his surroundings. It's during this time he spots the
+> bloodied, moving blankets. They seem to writhe, as though something
+> beneath them is injured.
+> 
+> Gripping the dagger firmly in one hand Alex grabs the blankets from
+> the corner of the balloon basket revealing whatever lay beneath.
+
+The sunspoke stretches its little arms and wriggles its little
+fingers. It sighs happily, luxuriating in the extra fuel. It burns
+twice as bright, shooting a hot jet of bright yellow flame up into
+the parachute. The sunspoke starts to glow a molten red, and you
+start to rise faster.
+
+As you rise up over the peak, you can finally spot the Runesocesius.
+The grand hotel is draped over the top of the mountain, clinging to
+it like a dragon resting on its hoard.
+
+The "cyberplasms" as Confidence called them have docked to the side
+of a tower on the other side of the peak from you. They have shot a
+large hole in the side of the tower, and you can see them now
+starting to zipline into the building. A thick plume of black smoke
+billows out of the side of the tower, carrying pages and pages of
+loose paper into the air with it. They rain down like snow. The tower
+must house an extensive library.
+
+You cautiously pull back a corner of the bloody blankets, jeweled
+dagger raised and ready to strike. You reveal a small bloody furry
+blob. You see two big round eyes, a short-snouted face, and enormous
+pointed ears. It quickly looks away from you, chirps pathetically,
+and trembles as it cowers in place. You have found a frightened
+hemogoblin stowaway!
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00219.html)
+
+
+

src/epistolary/00045.md

@@ -0,0 +1,94 @@
+---
+title: 00045
+created: Tue, 20 Dec 2022 10:15:23 -0700
+updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 09:29:11 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00045 {#00045}
+
+> As the blankets draw back from the bloody mass, a cute little
+> hemogoblin appears. "Aww little fellas just scared." Alex lowers
+> the dagger, but otherwise ignores the hemogoblin. Best to leave it
+> be for now, there's more important things.
+> 
+> As the balloon gets within range of the ship Alex begins to scan
+> the deck for Cyberplasms. At the same time he checks his bug to
+> track the location of the cyberplasms more acutely. It looks like
+> there may be an opporunity to jump from the balloon to the ship.
+> After that cutting the zip lines would give me the opporunity to
+> steal the ship, leaving the cyberplasms trapped at the top of the
+> hotel.
+
+Just a few Cyberplasms remain on the deck of the airship. The vast
+majority of them have zipped into the hotel tower.
+
+You check your bug's feed. It has gone almost entirely unnoticed in
+the fracas, and you are able to piece together a clear picture of the
+inside of the tower. It is indeed a grand library, its galleries
+spanning each floor of the tower. One of the largest collections in
+all of Basmentaria.
+
+The Cyberplasms have breached the tower near its base and are pouring
+into the Great Hall. You tune in just in time to see a rail-thin,
+bald and mustachioed man standing defensively in front of a display
+case. "No! You can't!" he exclaims as a disembodied sickle approaches
+him in a cloud of electricity and ectoplasm.
+
+Behind the glass in the display case is a bluish hunk of rock the
+size of a melon, with gently pulsing gold veins.
+
+> Inky puts away the papers they caught in passing or picked up along
+> the path up to read later, including a number that from a cursory
+> glance appear to be from a culinary collection and a few from some
+> moth-eaten but finely illustrated botanical tome, among others.
+> 
+> Eventually arriving at the hotel entrance, Inky enters and manages
+> to catch a frantic-looking attendant near the reception to ask the
+> whereabouts of the hotelier, indicating they had a business
+> appointment with said manager.
+
+You walk in through the hotel's main entrance. The grandeur would
+take your breath away were it not for the shouting and the smoke and
+the explosions coming from down the hall to your right.
+
+You wave down a passing hotel clerk and inquire after the hotelier.
+They are hauling a large bucket of hot water, and carrying an
+oversized bundle of clean towels under one arm. They pause for a
+moment to look at you incredulously before running off in the
+opposite direction.
+
+A cry rings out nearby and a Cyberplasm flies through an open door
+down the hallway. It lands in a heap of crackling energy, smears of
+ectoplasm streaking the floor as though it were bleeding heavily. It
+seems to be barely held together by the energy stored in its
+cybernetic leg and a metal skull plate.
+
+It scoots backwards on its hands and its butt, trying to stand up.
+Two toques leap out of the door after it. You recognize Bread and
+Confidence right away.
+
+Bread has obviously been to the kitchens. They are wearing tin baking
+sheets and an oversized pot on their heard as makeshift armor, and
+have a couple of dangerous looking kitchen knives hanging from their
+belt. At the moment they are swinging a large meat tenderizer over
+their head as though it were a war hammer.
+
+Confidence, meanwhile, has been to the gardener's shed. They are
+wearing a heavy leather apron and thick leather gloves, and have a
+trowel in each hand, and a large hoe or rake strapped to their back.
+
+Bread lowers their hammer on Cyberplasms head, denting the skull
+plate. And Confidence darts in and stabs with both hands at the leg.
+As soon as the prosthetics go offline and the plasmic arcs cease
+firing, there is nothing left holding the ectoplasm together and the
+ghost kind of dissipates into the air with a soft wail.
+
+They look up and notice you at the same time, relaxing their
+offensive stances. "Oh!" cries Bread. "It's you!"
+
+"You don't happen," asks Confidence, "to need a guide, do you?"
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00227.html)

src/epistolary/00046.md

@@ -0,0 +1,146 @@
+---
+title: 00046
+created: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:36:07 -0700
+updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:36:10 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00046 {#00046}
+
+> Ah so I suppose those Toques were being honest then, there was a
+> Ginnarak crystal, and I guess they were going to give it to us.. oh
+> well, nothing good in life comes easy.
+> 
+> Alex cranks the dial on the sunspoke, grabs the hemogoblin from the
+> basket, and jumps out of the balloon and onto the deck of the ship.
+> He rushes over to the nearest pile of bundled rope and barrels and
+> stows his new hemo friend. "Just stay hidden little guy, let me
+> take care of these pirates first."
+> 
+> Alex grabs the dagger from his side as he makes his way towards the
+> side of the ship, first thing first, best to cut the mooring lines
+> and zip lines. The static clawing sensation appears at the back of
+> Alex's mind, but he attempts to ignore it. There's too much that
+> needs to be done too quickly, and he's all too aware of the danger
+> he's put himself in. "What would Corraidhin do.." Alex thinks to
+> himself, "perhaps a spell?".
+> 
+> ```lua
+> function target:new(obj, tbl)
+>   obj = obj or {}
+>   setmetatable(obj, self)
+>   self.__index = self
+>   self.x = 0
+>   self.y = 0
+>   self.speed = 0
+>   reutrn obj
+> end
+> 
+> function target:yeet()
+>   self.x = 100
+>   self.y = 100
+>   self.speed = 50
+>   return self
+> end
+> ```
+> 
+> After preparing the spell Alex makes his way towards the guard rail
+> ready to cut the mooring and zip lines, spell at the ready should
+> an enemy appear. 
+
+You crank the dial to 11. The sunspoke squeals in delight and burns
+like a tiny star. You grab the hemogoblin, who chirrups and clings
+tightly to you, and leap from the balloon onto the deck of the
+airship.
+
+You think you can hear---barely audible---the sunspoke singing a song
+of homecoming as the hot air balloon continues to rise unpiloted up
+toward the sun.
+
+You rush over to cover behind a barrel, and deposit your new
+hemogoblin friend safely inside the center of a large coil of rope.
+It looks up at you quizzically, but nods when you tell it to stay
+put.
+
+You invoke the powers of the moon and prepare a quick but (hopefully)
+sufficient Spell of Yeeting.
+
+<!--
+Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to cut the lines and avoid detection
+6 = Great Success! Level Up!
+//-->
+
+When you draw the dagger, the world develops a faint static
+background noise which is easy enough to ignore at the moment given
+the state of things. You dash forward and start sawing at the thick
+mooring lines. The dagger's ruby hilt flashes in the sunlight as you
+work, and in your mind's eye you see a bright red wine, and a drop of
+blood red ink flowing from the nib of a fountain pen.
+
+You shake the images from your head just as you finish sawing through
+the rope. A Cyberplasm who was shimmying back up the rope from the
+hotel to the ship yelps as the line goes slack and swings back into
+the side of the cliff. The pirate rebounds from the impact, bounces
+off the mountainside a few times, and falls from view as it
+disappears through the clouds below.
+
+The ship drifts lazily, rising slightly, and despite your best
+sneaking around, the remaining Cyberplasms on board cannot help but
+notice that the ship is no longer tethered. You successfully hide
+behind a barrel as three cyber ghost pirates come rushing over to the
+ship railing and lean over, looking below at where there are no
+longer any ropes attaching the ship to the hotel.
+
+Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the hemogoblin toddling
+across the deck toward the Cyberplasms, no doubt curious about what
+they're looking at over the side of the ship.
+
+> "Indeed, Bread, it's me. You have not yet escaped your fate of
+> untraceable disappearance just yet." Inky deadpans, then smiles.
+> "We have much to discuss, but later. I do need a guide … to your
+> hotelier. Presumably I will find them by following the racket and
+> trail of ruined decor, but maybe you know of a quicker route?"
+
+Bread smiles at the threat of being untraceably disappeared, mostly
+confident that they are on the inside of a private little joke and
+that they are presently in no actual danger from Inky. They grip
+their hammer a little tighter nonetheless.
+
+Confidence slips their trowels into their apron. "Yes, this way!"
+
+They hurry down the hall. You know you're going the right way because
+tattered, torn, charred books litter the ground in increasing
+numbers. Bits of paper and ash fall like snow.
+
+Confidence guides you away from the entrance to the library's Great
+Hall, and takes you instead to a smaller, more discreet staff
+entrance. They open the door a crack, and as you look through you are
+just in time to see the ship captain with their cybernetic leg, arm
+canon, and eye. Now that the crew have cleared the way for them, they
+stroll across the library over piles of fallen, damaged books.
+
+A thin bald man with a neatly trimmed mustache is on the other side
+of the hall, his back turned to the pirate. He wears a fine suit and
+has just finished unlocking a glass display case. He retrieves a
+multifaceted blue and gold stone and hugs it to his chest with both
+arms. He throws a panicked glance over his shoulder at the slowly
+approaching pirate, and turns to run away. His retreat is halted by a
+small explosion at his feet. He skids to a stop and looks back at the
+pirate, who is lowering their arm canon.
+
+"The crystal," the captain demands in a voice part ghostly moan, part
+mechanical drone. "Hand it over, hotelier." It steps closer. "Mother
+has promised us new bodies if we deliver the quintessence. You won't
+be permitted to stand in our way."
+
+One pirate near the breach tucks a couple volumes of manhwa under its
+arm and climbs out onto the mooring line, returning to the ship with
+its plunder. It howls as the line suddenly goes slack, flinging the
+pirate and its comics into the mountainside, and then out into space.
+
+Sunlight pours into the library from outside as the shadow of the
+airship shifts as it starts to drift, suddenly unmoored.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00231.html)

src/epistolary/00047.md

@@ -0,0 +1,116 @@
+---
+title: 00047
+created: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 16:51:54 -0700
+updated: Thu, 22 Dec 2022 16:51:59 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00047 {#00047}
+
+> Damn it! I should've left the little goblin in the balloon, this
+> could get tricky..
+> 
+> Time slows for just the briefest of moments while Alex calculates
+> his next move. Looking at the position of the pirates he can
+> probably yeet the middlemost one away from the group into the left
+> most pirate. Best case this sends both of them sailing over the
+> edge of the ship, worst case it just slightly knocks them off
+> balance. In either event this gives me enough time to dart from
+> cover and quickly dispatch the right most pirate with Uncle's
+> dagger. I've got to sever each connection point between the
+> ecotplasm and the cybernetics, nothing quite as quick and easy as
+> flesh and blood, but a quick slice to the left most armpit, and
+> another to the right most leg right above the carotid artery should
+> do it..
+> 
+> Jumping immediately to action Alex casts `yeet.middle_cyberplasm()`
+> sending the middle  pirate into the left most pirate away from the
+> hemogoblin while he dashes forward to take the third right most
+> pirate by surprise. As he reaches the right most pirate he makes
+> two quick slices, first at the leg, followed by a quick upper cut
+> to the left arm.
+
+<!--
+Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to yeet the cyberplasm
+3 = Things go poorly. Gain 1 xp.
+Spend 1 xp to pass and gain Sysorcery 2
+//-->
+
+You channel some of the ambient environmental charge into your
+prepared incantation. It's comforting sometimes to peer behind the
+veil and see the world through this lens. It's so simple. The
+separation of self and other is an illusion: everything is just a
+table. The concept of time itself is simplified: coroutines prevent
+everything from happening all at once and create the illusion of
+concurrency. It's all really quite elegant.
+
+Anyway so the hemogoblin sidles up next to the pirates at the
+railing. It's not tall enough to see over the railing, and starts to
+kind of jump up and down, trying to catch a glimpse. The pirates look
+down at it in confusion just as the `yeet` happens, and they knock
+into each other. The leftmost one almost manages to regain its
+balance but then trips over the little blood gremlin and pitches over
+the railing. The middle pirate yelps as the startled hemogoblin darts
+between its legs to get out of the way. The pirate stumbles and then
+slips in a small puddle of blood. Its feet shoot from beneath it and
+it too tips over the railing.
+
+<!--
+Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to sever connections
+1 = Things go poorly. Gain 1 xp.
+Spend 1 xp to pass and gain Stabbing 2
+//-->
+
+The hemogoblin dashes right into the waiting arms of the rightmost
+Cyberplasm. "Gotcha, you little ... ugh! What ..." The pirate is
+starting to regret snatching up the little furball, which is
+defensively gushing blood all over it, when you make your first slice
+into its left armpit. Half its cybernetics go offline. One arm goes
+limp and it drops the hemogoblin, which scurries around and hides
+behind you. The pirate turns toward you, now full of regrets, and you
+stab into its right leg, knocking its tech completely offline and
+dispersing the ghostly energies.
+
+As far as you can tell, the ship is now free of Cyberplasms.
+
+The hemogoblin thrusts its tiny fists in the air and cheers.
+
+> Inky shakes out several large and very fine kerchiefs, handing two
+> each to the guides and gestures for them to cover their noses and
+> mouths with them while they perform the action themselves to
+> demonstrate.
+> 
+> Donning a pair of skydiving goggles snatched from one of the souvenir
+> stalls at the gondola station while no one was looking (replacing it
+> with its approximate weight in silver coins), Inky retrieves a black
+> metal box that previously served as a portable camp stove from their
+> knapsack and removes the lid. The inside of the box is filled with
+> dry wood chips mixed with a pine green powder, and Inky throws in the
+> wicks pulled from some of the scented candles that were pushed into a
+> heater flask to melt fully during the walk up the hotel steps.
+> Finally, Inky pours another vial of foul-smelling liquid over the
+> contents, opens the door just wide enough to slide the metal box
+> through to one side of the door a few paces away.
+> 
+> A mildly sweet, cloying smoke emanates from the flameless heat inside
+> the box, which begin to fill the library hall with a rapidly
+> thickening cloud. It is also taking on an acrid and slightly sooty
+> edge. Near the door, Inky fans more of the smoke in the direction of
+> the cyberplasmic apparition with a thin bound manuscript laying on
+> the floor.
+
+Bread, Confidence, and you all don protective gear. You push the camp
+stove through the door like an Olympic curler. It glides across the
+library floor a respectable distance considering the book debris and
+the lack of sweepers. Much more quickly than one would think
+possible, the hall is filled with a thick, sooty smoke. The
+Cyberplasm captain groans with frustration as even the short distance
+between it and the hotelier (and the crystal) becomes occluded in the
+smoke screen. The hotelier wisely doesn't make a sound as he
+disappears from view.
+
+Bread nudges you, grins, and gives you a thumbs up.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00234.html)

src/epistolary/00048.md

@@ -0,0 +1,246 @@
+---
+title: 00048
+created: Wed, 28 Dec 2022 16:08:10 -0700
+updated: Wed, 28 Dec 2022 16:08:12 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00048 {#00048}
+
+> Alex snatches up his new hemo friend cheering huzzah as he does.
+> We've got a pirate ship little guy!
+> 
+> Rushing about the deck Alex quickly takes stock of what's left,
+> plenty of ammo, general supplies, fuel, perfectly provisioned for a
+> quick crystal kidnapping. Smart move pirates, but not smart enough.
+> 
+> Alex heads to the helm and steadies the ship guiding it out and
+> away from the library, can't have any of the remaining cyberplasms
+> easily reboarding it now can we? Once the ship is out of range Alex
+> checks his S.T.A.G drone's twtxt feed for updates.
+> 
+> ```
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Cyberplasm approaching crystal
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/gps> approx library, top level
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/audio> Cyberplasm threatens violence
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Inky, bread, confidence enter subvertly
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Visual feed impaired due to unknown smog
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/audio> Angry tones, uncertain who
+> ```
+> 
+> Not particularly helpful, and it rules out my first thought. I
+> could blindly fire the broadside canons into the library hoping to
+> hit the cyberplasm, but I'd be just as likely to hit Inky, Bread,
+> Confidence or any other innocent bystander. I've got to get a
+> message to her.
+> 
+> Alex quickly dispatches a command to the S.T.A.G
+> 
+> ```
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/cmd> Seek Inky
+> @<drone/fhsoa7483/relay> Secured ship, inform A.I of intentions, will coordinate rescue via the stolen ship
+> ```
+> 
+> If all we've got is this, then we'd best be ready for a quick
+> rescue. Alex busies himself preparing a new zipline and mooring
+> lines. He then loads the boradside canons and the top deck swivel
+> canons. It'll need to be quick, but if I'm ready I can swing the
+> ship in close, deploy a zipline for Inky to zip down to the ship
+> with, and defend the retreat with the swivels. If everyone retreats
+> to the ship we can take a note from the pirates playbook and blast
+> them to hell with the broadsides while we make our retreat. Or
+> simply run I suppose, but I dislike the idea of leaving innocent
+> people to deal with angry pirates 
+
+The hemogoblin cheers you on as you take possession of the airship,
+accidentally squirting a few jets of rust colored blood in its
+excitement. Must still be quite young. They don't gain full control
+of their blood sacs until well into adulthood.
+
+You check your S.T.A.G. drone's twtxt feeds. This A.I. seems
+especially reliable, you note with satisfaction. Its updates are
+regular and detailed. Even when there's not much to report.
+
+You load up the canons and take control of the helm. The hemogoblin
+stands at attention at the broadside canons with a cracklesparkler,
+ready to light the fuse at your command. You steer the ship a short
+distance away from the hotel, hopefully out of reach of the
+cyberplasms. But within range of your own canons and ziplines.
+
+> While Inky has the attention of both guides, they close the door
+> again until it is slightly ajar, and make a series of hand
+> gestures. First pointing at themselves, at their own forearm and
+> fist held stiffly to mimic the shape of the captain's arm cannon,
+> to indicate that Inky will handle the Cyberplasm. Then Inky points
+> the two fingers of a hand at Bread and Confidence, turns the two
+> fingers downward and swings them back and forth in opposite
+> directions to convey walking. This was followed by a single finger
+> pointing in the general direction they had last seen the hotelier;
+> then the finger hooks inward, the arm repeating a yanking motion
+> once or twice before ending the gesture with a thumb tossed over
+> their shoulder towards the hallway away from the staff entrance, to
+> ask them to get their boss out of the library to a safe spot.
+> 
+> Without waiting for confirmation from the toques, Inky opens the
+> door, abruptly stops, turns and shoves a compostable bag of
+> mango-flavoured croutons at Bread, gives them a thumbs up in return
+> and a mildly disturbing, eye-crinkling smile behind their kerchief,
+> before slipping inside the smoky room. One hand is already pulling
+> out a thin, extendable metal walking pole with a carrying strap
+> visually resembling the type used by hikers from their courier bag
+> to check for obstacles amid the lowered visibility.
+
+Confidence watches all of your hand gestures closely, and then nods
+resolutely. They draw their large hoe, and turn and start to crouch
+run toward the main entrance to to the main hall of the library.
+
+Bread looks confused, but ready to follow Confidence. They grab their
+heavy meat tenderizer and crouch down in imitation of their fellow
+toque. Before they can run off, you shove a bag of croutons into
+their arms. "Small. Toasted. Bread," they intonate slowly in wonder.
+The confusion falls from their face as they break into a wide grin.
+"Now I'll never disappear without a trace," they laugh. They thank
+you and run like a duck after Confidence.
+
+> Inside, Inky lobs the empty glass vial that had held the
+> unpleasantly pungent organic catalyst at a spot the floor several
+> paces roughly from where the Cyberplasm — presumably the leader of
+> the group — had been standing earlier, in the opposite direction of
+> the staff entrance in an attempt to divert attention from the
+> hotelier's last location. As they edge along the wall towards the
+> tower stairs, walking pole looped over one hand, Inky grabs a few
+> small hardcover novellas from a wall shelf. Straightening from
+> their crouch, Inky tosses them one at a time horizontally in quick
+> succession like a discus, but without the full-body turning motion,
+> across the hall towards the sounds of frustrated groans and angry
+> muttering. The first starting higher around where a human head
+> might have once been, one at waist height and another at the
+> juncture below where ectoplasmic knees might meet prosthetic legs. 
+
+You pick up three hardback novellas. If it wasn't so smoky, and if
+you weren't so much in the middle of a potentially life and death
+struggle with the Cyberplasm captain of a pirate airship, you might
+notice their titles: *Stop and Smell the Crystals*, *Living the
+Corn*, and *A Big Moon*.
+
+<!--
+NOTE: book titles generated by https://booktitlegenerator.com/
+//-->
+
+Anyway, you start flinging.
+
+<!--
+Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever cyber eye
+1: Things go poorly; gain 1 xp
+Spend xp to level up, Throwing 2
+//-->
+
+After you toss the catalyst, you can see a plasmic form heavily
+blurred and obscured by the smoke turn in that direction. You fling
+*Stop and Smell the Crystals* at it, and it spins like a discus and
+smashes into the pirate right in the face, above the chin. It howls
+and brings its hand to its face, and turns and charges up its arm
+cannon.
+
+<!--
+Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever arm canon
+5 (2): Success at cost
+//-->
+
+Mostly going on sound now, you fling *Living the Corn* at the
+pirate's moan and at the electric whine of the canon charging. You
+hear the canon discharge but the half-blind pirate fires wide. You
+see the flash of the energy blast hitting something, someone, else
+obscured by smoke in the middle distance between the two of you. A
+man screams out in pain. Right after the muffled thump of his body
+hitting the ground, you hear the clinking and ringing of something
+heavy and metallic striking and rolling across the floor.
+
+*Living on Corn* strikes the pirate in the elbow, and with a fizzle
+and a spark, the arm cannon sputters offline.
+
+<!--
+Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever cyber leg
+6 4: Great Success!
+//-->
+
+The pirate stumbles forward, half-lame and half-blind. It stoops and
+scoops up a heavy melon-sized object. It stomps its cybernetic boot,
+and small rockets spring out from small compartments on either side
+of its ankle. They start to fire up and the pirate is about to make
+its escape when *A Big Moon* hits it right above knee and severs the
+ghost's final connection to its final enhancement.
+
+It groans as it starts to dissipate, dropping the heavy object once
+more.
+
+"My crew, it is too late for me! I shall never have a new body now!
+But it's not too late for you! You must bring the quintessence to
+Mother!"
+
+And then the pirate's essence is diluted in the smoke filling the
+library.
+
+> At that moment Inky hears a very low whirring accompanied by
+> clicking sounds behind them and without glancing backwards, swings
+> the walking pole at the source of the buzzing. The stick collides
+> with something, sending it careening backwards with a light clatter
+> through what is likely a row of bookshelves around the area already
+> partially emptied of their contents. From the static noise that
+> ensues, Inky realises whatever it was may or may not have been one
+> of the wizard's bugs hovering in the shadows earlier or a
+> disembodied, ectoplasm-spewing prosthetic limb after all. Inky
+> calls out sheepishly, "Sorry, Young Master Alex! Was that yours?
+> Oops? Haha?" before smashing two more empty glass bottles as a
+> distraction for any remaining Cyberplasms lurking on the same
+> floor, and sprints up the tower stairs, using the banisters as a
+> guide.
+
+The Amber Imp is feverishly reporting all the goings on from inside
+the S.T.A.G. drone when Inky strikes its conveyance with their
+walking pole. The bug is destroyed on contact. The imp barely manages
+to fire off one final End Of Transmission post before ejecting from
+the craft, which sinks below like an exploded firework. It drifts on
+the currents of smoke and flows out through the hole in the wall into
+the open air outside. The imp falls through open space and starts to
+think back on its life. So much time and energy spent chasing its
+hopes and dreams, its goals and aspirations. So much of its life
+wasted in pursuit. Always reaching, never grasping. Is that all it
+gets? Is this the end? Did it ever really even get a chance to really
+live?
+
+These thoughts race through its head as it falls, but are cut short
+when it abruptly lands on a hard bed of cloudstuff. It tumbles and
+rolls and comes to a stop. And when it looks up, amazed to be alive
+and vowing to make the most of this second chance at life, it looks
+up into the benevolent smiling face of a pink zephynos.
+
+~
+
+Inky, you cross the floor to where the pirate had its last stand. You
+find what appears to be approximately one-fifth of the hotelier, and
+wonder idly where the rest of him might be. And you notice a
+conspicuous lack of Ginnarak Crystal.
+
+You do however notice a soft crunch underfoot. And when you bend down
+to inspect it---disorganized cyberplasms running amok in the smoke
+behind you---you discover a trail of mango flavored croutons leading
+across the hall to the tower stairs.
+
+You sprint up the stairs using the banisters as a guide. The
+breadcrumb trail ends on the seventh level, where Confidence sits
+slumped against the wall between two bookshelves. They have one arm
+around four-fifths of the hotelier, his shocked gaze telling you
+everything you need to know, that he is entirely dead but just
+doesn't know it yet. Their other arm is around Bread, who has
+suffered a massive wound to the chest and is only slightly more alive
+than the hotelier. On the ground between Confidence's legs is the
+Ginnarak Crystal. Several loose pages are stuck to its sides, held in
+place by drying blood and ectoplasm.
+
+Confidence looks at you and smiles wearily. "We left a trail for you.
+It was Bread's idea. They were a good guide."
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00250.html)

src/epistolary/00049.md

@@ -0,0 +1,156 @@
+---
+title: 00049
+created: Thu, 29 Dec 2022 18:55:34 -0700
+updated: Fri, 30 Dec 2022 08:12:55 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00049 {#00049}
+
+> "They *are* a good guide," Inky corrects adamantly. "Do you hear
+> that, Bread? You're not allowed to disappear until you've had an
+> entire bag of these croutons, and even then you're still not
+> allowed. If I'd known you'd never had croutons before I wouldn't
+> have let you walk a step further into that hall. That was
+> simultaneously the worst and best idea ever. Mango! Croutons! What
+> a travesty. Did you even taste any of it? No? You have to! How can
+> you offer guests delicious fondue without croutons? Speaking of
+> which, we haven't gotten that fondue you promised yet, that's
+> reason #144 you can't disappear. What's reason #143? Crostinis.
+> Small toasted bread. Slice of life. You can put cheese on it too,
+> if you really must …"
+> 
+> And so on. While Inky talks at Bread in a bid to keep them
+> conscious, they whisk out a first-aid kit from their courier bag
+> and kneeling on the floor, proceeds to stem the bleeding from the
+> chest wound with coagulant-coated bandages. Slowly, they tip a
+> flask of tea infused with some restorative herbs down Bread's open
+> mouth, careful not to pour too quickly. Inky pauses mid-diatribe
+> and mid-pour to thrust another flask of tea into Confidence's hand,
+> the one wrapped four-fifths of the hotelier and ask, "Are you
+> injured? Please keep an eye on your companion, I will summon for
+> assistance."
+> 
+> Standing up, Inky walks to a window, opens it and peers out. They
+> look around for a hot air balloon and notice the unmoored airship.
+> After squinting at it with a mini-spyglass, they see Alex standing
+> at the helm of the ship with a young hemogoblin on board. Inky
+> waves, and makes a vertical cross sign with a fist and thumb on the
+> opposite upper arm a few times. Next, they pull out a small tin
+> whistle, and toot a few sharp notes in the same cadence as the
+> one-liner directed at Bread earlier by the gondola station. After a
+> moment, a scops owl swoops in to land on the windowsill. Inky
+> inserts a rolled piece of paper into a small pouch hanging at the
+> bird's back, and the bird flies off again.
+> 
+> Returning to the figures slumped against the wall, Inky places the
+> Ginnarak crystal in a lightly padded cloth bag, stowing it away in
+> their knapsack-style backpack. They resume checking and tending to
+> the toques' injuries, while expounding upon various permutations of
+> toasted bread to a captive audience.
+
+Bread closes their eyes and smiles dreamily at the descriptions of
+various breads. They weakly sip the tea as you tip it into their
+mouth and swallow with effort.
+
+<!--
+Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to stabilize Bread
+2 = Things go poorly
+Spend 1 remaining xp to advance = Success + gain Medicine 2
+//-->
+
+They sigh and open their eyes. They focus on you and maintain eye
+contact as you draw from a seemingly bottomless well of knowledge on
+the topic of toasted breads. Bread and life are clinging fast to each
+other, neither ready or willing to let go of the other. They are
+going to be okay.
+
+Confidence's wounds are superficial. They are winded from dragging
+Bread and the hotelier up seven flights of stairs. But they are fine.
+
+The hotelier's wounds are sadly quite fatal. Honestly it was all over
+for him the moment he took the full force of the captain's plasma
+canon to his chest. He babbles, "It's not ... I wasn't ..." And then
+with sudden realization and quiet resignation, a clear-eyed, "Oh."
+And then he is gone.
+
+His courage in the face of danger is the reason you now have the
+third of the five Ginnarak Crystals in your pack. Whether or not his
+death was in vain is now largely up to you and what you decide to do
+with the crystal.
+
+~
+
+Downstairs in the Great Hall of the library, one of the remaining
+Cyberplasms crouches down next to the inert cybernetic eye that until
+very recently belonged to their captain. They pick it up and turn it
+over in their hand. "Worry not, my captain," the ghost mourns. "We
+will find the quintessence. And once we do, we will be made anew in
+the forge of our Mother."
+
+He rolls the orb in palm of his hand. A faint arc of energy crackles
+across its surface. And the eye rolls over of its own volition and
+looks up at the pirate.
+
+Suddenly reverent, the pirate gently places the eye on the ground as
+a ghostly face begins to form around it. The pirate waits patiently,
+attentively. It's not every day one gets to bare witness to a new
+birth. The ectoplasm that gathers around the eye forms a rail-thin
+body. Its head is bald and its face sports a neatly trimmed mustache.
+It is missing an arm and a leg.
+
+Dutifully, the witness fetches a recently discarded arm canon and leg
+booster. The exotica tap into the energy provided by a new crossing
+over, and come online, and create a new mesh.
+
+The hotelier stands and looks down at its new body. As it were. It
+looks around at its surroundings. It picks up a few books and starts
+shelving them.
+
+The pirate, mostly wishing to provide companionship and comfort to
+the new ghost, assists with tidying up.
+
+~
+
+Alex, you are at the helm of the balloon-ship. As you start to drift
+slightly up and away, the blue dome of the hotel comes into view. On
+its peak you can see a life-sized statue of a stern-faced
+Runesocesius wielding a spear, drawn back as though ready to hurl an
+angry thunderbolt down at the world below.
+
+The hemogoblin is still down on the deck by the canons. You see it
+waving cheerily at the library tower. You squint in that direction,
+but can't see what has caught its attention.
+
+A small tufted-ear owl silently lands next to you breaking you from
+your reverie. The owl is wearing a small harness with a pouch at the
+back. Inside the pouch is a rolled piece of paper signed by Inky, up
+on the seventh floor of the tower.
+
+You count seven windows up the side of the tower from its base. There
+seems to be some movement inside, but you can't make much out from
+here. With a lucky shot, you think you might be able to hook the
+window frame with a zipline.
+
+~
+
+Outside, a pink zephynos is spinning raw cloud into a minuscule opera
+house and performing arts center under the direction of an amber imp
+with a new hunger for life. It is an organic looking structure: a
+primary concert hall, surrounded by a number of smaller stages and
+performance areas spiraling out from the center like a nautilus
+shell.
+
+The imp smiles happily, proudly. What tales will be told here! What
+songs will be sung! "Lorehold," it whispers to itself. "You will tell
+the world's stories."
+
+It is already trying out lines in its head, imagining the play it
+will write of this day. About the hotel and the library and the
+pirates and the cloud dragons. About a pair of adventurers. And a
+very brave and lucky drone pilot that dared to chase its dreams.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00252.html)
+

src/epistolary/00050.md

@@ -0,0 +1,63 @@
+---
+title: 00050
+created: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 10:33:06 -0700
+updated: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 10:33:07 -0700
+syndicated: yes
+public: yes
+---
+### 00050 {#00050}
+
+> Meta: I look forward to reading the A.I.'s play once it's written,
+> we should go back and write the sequence of events for this segment
+> from their perspective in play form at some point. 
+> 
+> Alex gingerly takes the note from the owl and reads it quickly. "I
+> guess my S.T.A.G. got to Inky after all." Eyeing the tower and
+> cutting up the windows, it looks like maybe I'd get a shot in from
+> the zip line. But it's iffy.
+> 
+> Alex grabs the wheel and guides the balloonship slowly up a few
+> levels. From that vantage point it should only be 3-4 levels
+> between the ship and I. 
+> 
+> After getting the ship in place he grabs a zip line canon and
+> launches it at one of the windows on the 7th floor, sinking the
+> anchor firmly beneath the window. 
+> 
+> Now to signal Inky... Alex rummages around the ship, finding both a
+> signal flare gun and flares in the cargo hold, at least the pirates
+> were prepared for the worst. Taking aim away from the Balloon
+> Sails, Alex fires the flare up into the air creating a dazingly and
+> bright signal in the sky.
+
+You fire the zipline and the hemogoblin cheers adorably. The spear
+pierces the stone right beneath the 7th floor window, and the hooks
+extend and foam, cementing the line in place.
+
+In a locker on the side of the ship you find a few signal flares. You
+point them away from the balloons and fire into the sky. The flares
+explode brilliantly and hang dazzling in the sky before slowly
+drifting downward.
+
+A pair of zephynos swim over, attracted by the brilliant sparkling
+lights. They excitedly bat at the air with their hands and turn
+somersaults. They pull at some clouds and squeeze them into dozens of
+abstract forms inspired by the bursts. They toss them back and forth
+playfully and soon the boulders are drifting around listlessly
+overhead.
+
+Below, almost all of the Cyberplasms have noticed by now that their
+ship has been stolen. Several crowd into the hole in the wall and
+shout and shake their fists at you.
+
+You hear a low chirrup behind you and turn to see the hemogoblin
+standing in the middle of the deck. Somehow in all the commotion it
+has managed to get its tiny little hands on the ruby-hilted dagger.
+It grips the hilt tightly in both hands and gazes in wide-eyed wonder
+at the gem, utterly captivated, back turned to the fireworks. The
+hemogoblin and the blade are absolutely dripping with rivers of
+blood. A decent sized pool has already formed at its feet.
+
+WHAT DO YOU DO
+
+[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00257.html)

src/notes.md

@@ -1,47 +1,62 @@
 ---
 title: notes
 created: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
-updated: Tue, 26 Jul 2022 20:32:23 -0600
+updated: Sun, 27 Nov 2022 02:24:11 -0700
 ---
 ## Spoilers
 
 <details>
 <summary>SPOILERS!!</summary>
-NAMES AND NPCS
+**THREADS**
+
+- Lady in Red ???
+- Beaker (and Cio) trailing the BANDits?
+- Benefactor wants Crystals to kill a god
+- Golden Iris wants Crystals to make a new god
+- Gnu Zealots (aligned with Golden Iris) seek to open source godhood
+- Sitopotnia has offered new corn-based bodies to the cyberplasm if they can deliver to her the Quintessence
+- Blavin double agent with Golden Iris
+- BATT wants to preserve the timeline
+- Felixe and Corraidhin
+
+**NAMES AND NPCS**
 
 Upcoming NPCs and/or monsters
 
-- [ ] zai-ni
-- [ ] zeyeknee
+- [ ] Jorunna Parva, sea bunny time lord <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jorunna_parva>
+- [ ] Hap-n-stance, moon rabbit: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit>
+- [ ] zai-ni (zine)
+- [ ] zeyeknee (zine)
 - [ ] standard ed
 - [ ] paladin of emacs
 - [ ] monks of vim
 - [ ] hinderbloke, gnu
 - [ ] falterchap, gnu
-- [ ] Hap-n-stance, moon rabbit: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moon_rabbit>
-- [ ] Cyber Woman With Corn! -- <https://www.shutterstock.com/search/cyber-woman-with-corn>
+- [ ] Cyber Woman With Corn! (Sitopotnia?) -- <https://www.shutterstock.com/search/cyber-woman-with-corn>
 - [ ] oracle - <https://lambdacreate.com/paste/midjourney.png>
 - [ ] corn smut? - <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut>
+- [x] harrowkrake
+- [x] time swallows: It is a common misconception that barn swallows are the most widespread species of swallow. That distinction belongs to the *time* swallow. Although---if you're lucky---you'll never actually see one.
 - [x] gnu zealots
 - [x] three fingered gerald
 
 
-CRYSTALS
+**CRYSTALS**
 
 Each crystal has an associated *element*, a *location* appropriate to the element, and an *aspect* of Neddas for the guardian and their minions.
 
 
-| Element | Location                    | Aspect |
-|---------|-----------------------------|--------|
-| earth   | cave                        | coin   |
-| water   | underwater pirate shipwreck | mirth  |
-| wind    | cloudstuff                  | lore   |
-| void    | spaaaaace                   | craft  |
-| fire    | volcano                     | tact   |
+| ?  | Element | Location                    | Aspect |
+| -- |---------|-----------------------------|--------|
+| ✅ | earth   | cave                        | coin   |
+| ✅ | water   | underwater pirate shipwreck | mirth  |
+| ✅ | wind    | cloudstuff                  | lore   |
+| 🚫 | void    | spaaaaace                   | craft  |
+| 🚫 | fire    | volcano                     | tact   |
 
 The crystals will eventually lead them to Neddas
 
-IDEAS
+**IDEAS**
 
 todo:
 
@@ -52,6 +67,7 @@ todo:
 - [ ] The Benefactor is Nullar
 - [ ] Blavin is a secret agent, working for the Golden Iris, a secret society that wants to 'create balance' by creating a fourth god
 - [ ] Nullar got tired of being a god and wanted to die, and Neddas agreed to help him. Shit went bad and turned Liandt to stone, and Nullar's leg to stone. Now Nullar is trying to gather the Ginnarak crystals to assemble the *God Slayer* to attempt once more to end his own life.
+- [x] the BAND (Birds Are Not Dinosaurs) and the BATT (Birds Are Time Travelers) conspiracy
 - [x] ・゜゜・。。・゜゜\_o< QUACK!
 - [x] The gang has a rival: the gophers of Retrieval Team 70
 </details>

src/paths/duckterror.md

@@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
+---
+title: duck terrorist
+created: Sat, 26 Nov 2022 13:20:16 -0700
+updated: Sat, 26 Nov 2022 13:20:19 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+### Path of the Duck Outlaw
+
+When Basket Duck is against the law, only outlaws will play Basket Duck.
+And not even the angels will weep when this path eventually leads to your inevitable death.
+
+Inspired by *juego del pato*, the traditional, much maligned, national sport of Argentina.
+<https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pato>.
+Credit to ~mio for kicking off this idea.
+
+- 0. **Basket Duck** (Given the opportunity to befriend a duck, trap it instead and keep it in a basket): You can whip a crowd into a frenzy. The very sight of your duck in a basket can provoke a knife fight.
+
+- 1. **Gaucho** (Right 100 leagues on horseback with your basket duck): Your horsemanship is legendary. You can achieve feats of daring, strength, and agility while on horseback. And while you carry your basket duck.
+
+- 1. **Pate-au-pato** (Fatten a duck for an abattoir): Your foie gras recipe impresses any guest you invite to dine, increasing the likelihood a request will be responded to in your favour.
+
+- 2. **Pecking Duck** (Make a sauce 666 times): You gain a 2-dice Roasting skill with a chance of increased effectiveness on beasts and decreased effectiveness on humanoids.
+
+- 2. **Duck Trap** (Trap 44 ducks each under 44 seconds): Your Trapping skills have improved, which is to say, they have gotten worse at trapping ducks and better at trapping other somethings and nothings. Increased chance of finding other things in any trap you set.
+
+- 2. **Dog** (Trap 100 ducks): You gain a small but vicious dog who can help flush ducks out of the bush for you to trap. If you ever fail to trap one though, it will laugh at and demoralize you.
+
+- 3. **Pants Is Overrated** (Refuse to wear pants for 30 days): For as long as you wear no pants, you can preen yourself to become waterproof. This effect also extends to any items you carry. People may not approve of your lack of attire. But you have a long poncho right?
+
+- 3. **Feather Fall** (Survive a fall from over 20 feet high with your basket duck): You can pluck a feather from your basket duck and use it to slow your descent, landing safely on your feet.
+
+- 4. **Pato** (Safely deliver your basket duck back to your home; along the way, offer it to everyone you meet but don't let them take it): From now on, basket duck is outlawed by the government wherever you go. At the same time, you are a hero of the people and can muster a small mob to your aide.
+
+- 5. **Duck Typing** (Make an ink from the roasted beans of the java plant and a quill from a duck feather. Write on a parchment in *javascript* 100 times "Thou art a duck"): If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then---if you say it is---it is a duck.
+
+- 5. **Arrogate** (Kill the person who has stolen your basket duck from you): The angels have turned their backs on you, leaving you free to claim more than what is rightfully yours. You are immune to the blessings and curses of any minor miracle worker.

src/paths/murderhobo.md

@@ -0,0 +1,21 @@
+---
+title: murdehobo
+created: Wed, 09 Nov 2022 11:14:04 -0700
+updated: Wed, 09 Nov 2022 11:14:09 -0700
+public: yes
+---
+### Path of the Murderhobo
+
+You are an angel of death. A dirty, homeless angel of death with no conscious or qualms with killing the innocent.
+
+- 0. **Hobo** (Refuse to sleep under a roof or on the ground): You gain a lot of resilience due to being unhoused. You are partially immune to poison and disease, and can consume rotten food or drink without any ill effects.
+
+- 1. **Bully** (Destroy something weak and defenseless): You always have the drop on somebody weaker, smaller, less wealthy, or otherwise worse off than you.
+
+- 2. **Pocket Sand** (Overcome a foe while blinded yourself): You always have at least one handful of sand, gravel, grit, or rubble in your pockets that you can use to attempt to blind your foe.
+
+- 3. **In Cold Blood** (Kill an innocent person in cold blood): When it is unprovoked or unexpected, your first attack always hits its target.
+
+- 4. **Arsonist** (Burn three different structures down to the ground on three different occasions): You can always produce a flame regardless of the circumstances. It might because you have waterproof matches, a special lighter, or a magic candle. Anything you set your magic flame to will catch fire. It may not stay lit and indeed may immediately go out. But it will burn.
+
+- 5. **The Devil's Luck** (Frame an innocent and see them put to death for a crime you committed) Given your reputation for death and destruction, they should have locked you up long ago and thrown away the key. How are you possibly still a free man? Be it fear, intimidation, or the devil's blessing, people are likely to turn a blind eye to your evil actions.