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<atom:link href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
<title>BASEMENT QWEST</title>
<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
<item>
<title>56</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">56 - Mon, 16 Jan 2023 14:10:25
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 16 Jan 2023 14:10:25 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00056">00056</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface.
Patterns where patterns shouldnt be, strange orders from HQ,
indifference where once was ample aide as well. It was
maddening. Combine it all with the haunting suspicion that
there was constantly someone just around the next corner, and
it was enough to truly drive Alex mad.</p>
<p>That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line,
but Alex wasnt about to let it get to him. Or so he thought
to himself as he cast a furtive look at his monitoring
equipment. This paranoia had served him well in the past, very
well in fact. Its a sort of sixth sense in a way, always kept
Alex off the edge of the cliff, especially when someone
stepped close enough to push him off. Those were the types of
skills HQ sought after in the first place.</p>
<p>Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his
monitoring equipment running, dead mans trigger set to blow
the place shoul anyone enter it. Cant be too careful these
days..</p>
<p>Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows,
Alex makes his way down an alley, then another, and yet
another, finally emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market.
Across the street, as he had expected, was Marvelos Marvelous
MurderSticks, a quaint place should one needed something, well
you get the picture, they dont really sell anything but
weaponry here.</p>
<p>Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode
towards the back rack, where a collection of knives was on
display. A rough looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning
hair, moved from the counter as he saw Alex approach. “Fine
sampling of knives we have, could I interest you in one?”
Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin stilleto style dagger,
and hands it to Marvelo “This one seems about right, but Id
like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you dont mind”.
Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say “Not a problem at all
sir”, and he heads into the back.</p>
<p>He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he
places it on his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from
a stack, he deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled
piece of paper into the bottom, alongside an m1911 style
pistol, and a couple of clips of ammo. He then places the
velvet bottom back over the equipment, and places the stilleto
on top, bringing the entire package back to the front. “An
extra fine edge on this one sir, thatll be 15 gold, plus
another 5 to cover the service.</p>
<p>Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back
alley. Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to
himself as he disassembles the box holstering the pistol and
ammo, and sheathing the dagger. Cant keep going unarmed like
Im some kind of beat cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the
case and unfurls the message, quickly deciphering the
encryption set on it by Marvelo.</p>
<pre><code>The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet.
Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the &quot;Milk Market&quot; these past few days.
Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends.
Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors
Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal
Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advised</code></pre>
<p>Alex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley,
taking a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping
back around, and heading back towards it by yet another.
Nobody appeared to be following him, yet he paused at each
corner and turn, waiting for the footsteps of a pursuant.</p>
<p>Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance
of Enriques Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial.
“Enrique, wheres Inky? Weve got a problem.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the
items and exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of
meeting Bother at the place stipulated on the note.</p>
<p><em>(Half and one hour later)</em></p>
<p>One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky
runs into Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains
some of their new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for
the convenience of late-night tourists. These are subsequently
hare-mailed to every editor at the <em>Niuewstijl</em> office,
which is almost certain to earn another chiding remark from
Tess about etiquette and the handling of unsolicited bulk mail
to parent editorial teams.</p>
<p><em>(Half and two hours later)</em></p>
<p>The installation on display at the Milk Market was
grotesque — that is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps
carefully through the rooms to not disturb the piece.
Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set up on an upturned milk
crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows of horse head and
thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled “you cant ed
the unedible”.</p>
<p><em>(Half and three hours earlier)</em></p>
<p>Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of
paper on which were written a few questions about the
prescribed ritual, with some space after each question should
the witch prefer to scribble a response:</p>
<ul>
<li><p>What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
correct pocket dimension?</p></li>
<li><p>An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
establishment while it is open?</p></li>
<li><p>Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them?</p></li>
<li><p>Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake
up?</p></li>
</ul>
<p><em>(Half and four hours later)</em></p>
<p>Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin.
One accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation,
following the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white
pockets of fat as they tumble into a hot pan and almost
immediately begin to move of their own accord. The moving
mounds resemble small round mouths opening, each with a rim of
sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes belongs to a grinning face
that beams when the mounds bloom into bright red flat caps,
the edges beneath about to soften in the olive oil.</p>
<p>Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate
of tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes
with a murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the
tinned spicy artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process —
someone had ripped out the pages from an old pickling book
that had long ceased publication. Eventually Inky found a
former nomad who had eaten them for two years in their youth
and could recall or somewhat describe the taste. Flowery and
savoury, they said. Many taste tests later, it turned out to
be closer to partially decomposed cheese in ponderosa lemon
juice. Canning was fortuitously easier with the increasing
portability of sealers. Rather than telling the empanada chef
any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread across
his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining.</p>
<p><em>(Half and five hours later)</em></p>
<p>While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea
infusion since the start of the missions, not that Inky was
keeping a close count, they hear a familiar voice a short
distance outside the door asking for their whereabouts.
Without pausing in their whisking, Inky simply informs the
owner of the voice theyre not here, obviously, before
emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot and bowls on
a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Agate writes back quickly:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk
typically seek in return for directing travellers to the
correct pocket dimension?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the
evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel
to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to
seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the
time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the
establishment while it is open?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Youll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside.
Youll likely arrive exactly when youre meant to. No need to
worry too much about it.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Who are the Red Spider and “Dude 215R” mentioned in the
ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream
Sigil, respectively. Its not <em>terrible</em> if they show
up. But its definitely not ideal. You shouldnt register on
their radar as long as you dont pump too much energy into, or
siphon to much energy out of, the sigils. If they do show up,
just know that youre in the presence of a godlike power, and
behave accordingly.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the
sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken,
youll likely just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for
if your dreamform is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only
real danger you may encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk.
They will attempt to permanently sever your dreamform from
your waking body. Which would leave your body a soulless husk,
and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But
that probably wont happen! Okay good luck, have fun!</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>54</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">54 - Tue, 03 Jan 2023 16:12:08
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 04 Jan 2023 08:18:44 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00054">00054</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Once back in the Milk Bar, with the airship safely anchored
to the roof of the building, Alex finds himself amongst the
old belongings of his former uncle.</p>
<p><em>sigh</em> “Best get a request to HQ for this airship,
maybe theyll let us operate it for a bit, if not I suppose we
have to impound it..”</p>
<pre><code>&lt;- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
-&gt; OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
CLEARANCE: INFORMATIONAL
REQUEST ENCLOSED.
REQUESTING PERMISSION TO IMPOUND OR OPERATE.
ONE CYBERPLASM AIRSHIP &quot;The Rusty Maiden&quot;</code></pre>
<p>“Theres also the matter of this little hemogoblin..” Alex
mutters to himself while said hemogoblin happily dances around
the room, dripping little pools of blood hither and
tither.</p>
<pre><code>&lt;- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
-&gt; OP 41154 * LOC ESPER
CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET
REQUEST ENCLOSED
PACKET ENCLOSED
REQUESTING ANALYSIS
ONE GDB @gdb-readout.dat
TWO BLOOD @blood-soaked-handkerchief
NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY</code></pre>
<p>“Hey little guy, lets go get an empanade. Inky says theyre
divine.” Alex says as he scoops up the little goblin and
gently carries him downstairs.”</p>
<p>Striding into Enriques kitchen, and availing himself to the
empanadas, ignoring an indignant Enriques protests that these
were for paying customers until a small bag of coins is tossed
careless over one shoulder. Alex stride through the kitchen
and then out and away into the garden to enjoy their pilfered
treats.</p>
<p>“I suppose this is more interesting than being on the force
at times”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stepped into the toques cabin below deck with a tray
of turmeric ginger tea and lavender biscuits. After checking
on Breads bandages and offering the toque reclined on the
berth the last bag of mango croutons — or at least the last
one for the next two hours — Inky perched on a wooden barrel
across from where Confidence sat on a creaking old chair next
to the bunk and spoke. “Well be landing in about an hour and
getting Bread to a medical facility. You can stay with him
while he heals and rest up.”</p>
<p>They paused to take a long sip from their cup, as if the
liquid was being used to summon their next words. “On behalf
of myself and the party, I apologise for the … disruption, and
for what had befallen the hotelier. As you may have already
noticed, were a fair distance away from the Peak and will be
arriving in VayNullar soon. This airship was taken over from
the cyberplasms in the course of getting the crystal out and
the injured to a safe location, and her new captain could
hardly fly it back straight into the pirates hands now.</p>
<p>What we propose is this: you and Bread may take as long as
you need to recover. We can arrange for lodgings and new posts
in the city. One of our party runs a Milk Market that could
certainly use some hired help, and a garden in the back that
would benefit from more attention. Pay will be double your
current salary at the hotel. Master Alex may also recruit you
for other tasks. You dont need to have an answer just yet —
think on it for a bit while you rest and let us know.
Afterwards, if you find that you still wish to return to
Kelsun Peak, we will pay for travel.”</p>
<p>Inky winked at Bread conspiratorially. “You may be
interested to know there is a bakery on the Milk Markets
first floor. If you like the look of the place, perhaps we can
convince the chef to take on an assistant.”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Tess watched her adviser from her position on one end of
the plush chaise lounge in her office, who returned her stare
impassively as they sat in the adjoining armchair to her
right. The ornate coffee table before them had been laid out
for tea, but the other cup remained untouched, which was in
itself unusual. Ink rarely turned down tea when it was
offered, which likely meant they were preoccupied with
something they were unwilling to discuss. This had been
happening more frequently since their plans to intercept the
Ginnarak Crystals, which was a little concerning, but she knew
it would be no use to question them directly. The missive she
had received this time through Piskins people was brief,
almost annoyingly so, but they had returned earlier than
expected with the articles that production had requested,
which had fortunately made up for lost time from the previous
delays.</p>
<p>With this in mind, she settled on a lighter note as she
picked up her own teacup. “Salvia passed on the items to the
production team. Thank you for picking them up from the
Runesocesius. I would send my regular couriers but they are
tied up with another event. One of them had to care for their
sick child and couldnt leave the city. As usual, time and
discretion are of the essence.”</p>
<p>When her adviser only nodded, she continued. “How is he? He
probably insisted on bringing the manuscripts out for you
himself. The man is cautious with valuables.”</p>
<p>“Quite dead but managing, or so I heard.” Ink intoned
drily.</p>
<p>Tess caught on immediately. “Didnt you meet with him? The
message only mentioned the items had been obtained. Did
something happen?”</p>
<p>The imp shrugged. “We met, I delivered the letter and
collected the items. We didnt get a chance to talk.”</p>
<p>The hotel was slowly but steadily attracting visitors
again, especially after their last play had prominently
featured the Runesocesius Library as a research partner in the
programme credits, but Tess didnt think the hotelier was so
busy as to entrust this task to one of his underlings. The man
was proud of the first editions the library had amassed, and
the notebooks of Lucidieau that the playwright sought as a
reference were no doubt counted among the treasures, even if
only an expensive commissioned facsimile was permitted out of
the library. Something had happened, she was sure, but decided
not to press further for the moment.</p>
<p>“And the other matter?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Someone already knew the crystal was at the hotel and
retained a crew of cyberplasmic pirates to storm the place.”
Ink replied flatly. “And yes, your acquaintance is very much
dead, shot by the crew leader in the scuffle. As the rumour
rags have it, his ghost is now overseeing the building
repairs.”</p>
<p>Tess was about to admonish the imp gently for the tasteless
jest when there was a knock at the door. At her response, the
door opened and her secretary entered with a box of pastries
and two sets of tableware, which she placed on the coffee
table before leaving and closing the door behind her.</p>
<p>Noticing Inks look of recognition, Tess smiled and
ventured, “This is the second time is as many months you
awarded that empanada place a glowing review in <em>The Tiny
Toaster</em>. I can count the ratings higher than a 10 youve
ever given on one hand — of course I had to try it. Why dont
you have some as well?”</p>
<p>Ink blinked. “I didnt write the latest review.”</p>
<p>Tess shot them an accusing mock-glare as she lifted a puffy
golden brown pastry onto a plate. “It has your inkprints all
over it.”</p>
<p>“I dont know what you mean. Surely Im allowed to treat a
colleague to lunch, and they are free to express their
satisfaction with a meal openly if they wish,” Ink replied
smoothly.</p>
<p>Tess rolled her eyes. “Theres a name for that. Its called
bribery.”</p>
<p>Ink smiled faintly. “Just so. However, the selection speaks
for itself.”</p>
<p>“Oh, absolutely! These mini ambrose apple empanadas are
wonderful. In fact,” Tess prodded the open end of the pastry
with her fork, where a light yellow filling was visible, “they
remind me a little of the very crispy tortelli
<em>someone</em> made several years ago just for the opening
reception of <em>The Two Genteelkin of Virdantha</em>.”</p>
<p>“Any resemblance is coincidental. The chef is very
capable.” Ink said evenly.</p>
<p>Tess sighed and returned her plate to the table. “Weve
talked about this before, Ink. You dont have to hole up in
some poor scrubs excuse for a kitchen in a closet. If you
need more room downstairs then expand it. Just tell Salvia and
shell take care of it.”</p>
<p>Ink lowered their gaze to the teacups. “I appreciate the
offer, but the answer is the same. There will be no rest until
the crystals are secured.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Some time passes.</p>
<p>The hemogoblin turns out to be a fine housemate and less of
a problem than you thought it would be. Be it because its not
in the excitement of battle onboard a pirate ship, or be it
because it is maturing slightly, it seems in better control of
its blood sacs. Barring a few small accidents, it doesnt make
much of a mess. It has found and claimed as its own a few
unused blankets, and has made a little burrow nest in an out
of the way corner behind the furniture.</p>
<p>Bread makes a full recovery and in fact is doing better
than ever before. The blood goblin stays by their side during
the first hours and days and keeps them pumped full of clean,
synthetic blood. Afterwards the toque is flushed a healthy
pink and has new vigor. Enrique takes them under his tutelage.
And Bread ends up making a fine bakers apprentice. Dough
seems to rise more and quicker after he kneads it. “The lad
has solar hands,” Enrique boasts of his new protegee.</p>
<p>Confidence becomes enthralled with the semi-sentient
Wandering Bazaar. The thirteen story building moves with
glacial speed up and down the streets, vendors and stalls and
shoppers following in its wake. But then also it will
disappear in the blink of an eye only to reappear in a totally
different part of the area known as the Wandering Bazaar
District. Each floor of the tall, narrow tower is occupied
entirely by a single shop. But which shop it is seems to vary
from day to day. One day the seventh level will be occupied by
Fediks Butcher shop. And the next, Larios Bakery. It might
be days or weeks before one can once again buy hotlinks from
Fediks. Where the shops go when theyre not here is one of
Basmentarias great mysteries.</p>
<p>The toque studies the Bazaars movements and are able to
predict its route with more and more accuracy. They become a
highly sought out guide. Tourists and visitors trust them to
take them to the very spot the Bazaar will appear that day.
Residents appreciate the heads up and not getting trapped in
their houses when the Bazaar wedges its way into their narrow
residential streets, blocking their front doors. And owners of
traditional, less ambulatory shops are able to plan ahead for
the crowds that will appear on “Bazaar Day”.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Members of the Retrieval Team who sleep in Milk Market HQ
start having dreams of the same mysterious figure. Of course
at first nobody knows their dreams are shared by the others.
Not until they become more frequent, more regular. By the time
the figure has visited you every night for nearly a week,
somebody speaks up and you realize the coincidence.</p>
<p>The figure is clad in voluminous robes of deep purple.
Long, straight, blonde hair falls around their shoulders.
Their soft features are boyish and womanly. They wear a golden
circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their
forehead. Their passive, neutral face betrays no emotion the
entire time.</p>
<p>The dream is always the same. They reach out to you with
one hand and turn their palm up. And because of dream logic,
in the palm of their hand you can hear the jingling of coins,
mirthful laughter, and hushed stories told around a campfire.
They curl their fingers into a loose first and the sounds
stop. They spread their arms wide and in the folds of their
robes you can see three siblings fighting, squabbling over a
broken loom.</p>
<p>Then youre standing next to them, and the two of you watch
three friends, Snake, Owl, and Dolphin. Owl tells Snake that
he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesnt want to be an
owl any more, he wants to be flowers. And Snake laughs and
tells him that he is Owl, and an owl he must remain. And she
leaves him to go eat rodents and bake in the sun. So Owl tells
Dolphin that he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesnt
want to be an owl any more, he wants to be flowers. Dolphin
doesnt want to help Owl, because if he is flowers, they wont
be able to be together any longer. But Dolphin finally agrees
to help even though they dont want to, because Dolphin loves
Owl. With all their strength, they create a great waterspout
that will turn Owl into flowers. But the waterspout is too
strong, and Dolphin is too weak to control it. It sprays Owl
but does not turn him into flowers. Owls wing is broken and
he falls to the ground in a heap of feathers. The waterspout
shakes a great boulder from the earth and traps Snake under
it. And Dolphin sinks to the bottom of the sea.</p>
<p>And then you wake up.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Later you find a letter in the common area of Milk Market
HQ. It is not addressed to anybody. When you open it up, it
reads:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Time is running out, Retrieval Team 43. Things are starting
to draw to a close. We cannot delay our meeting any longer if
we both are to achieve our goals. We have information that you
are looking for. Meet us at the Harpoon Club next Selday. We
will wear the sign.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The letter is signed with a white iris and golden
apple.</p>
<p>Anyone in VayNullar would be able to tell you that the
Harpoon Club is a game room and fine dining club, and one of
the rotating tenants of the Wandering Bazaar. But Confidence
would tell you, were you to ask them, that the club wont be
there next Selday. (When the Bazaar will appear at East and
Lowland.) It is in fact not scheduled to appear until a week
and a half after next Selday, on Third Tensday. (When the
Bazaar will appear at Cathedral and Pine.)</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>55</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">55 - Thu, 05 Jan 2023 08:21:34
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Thu, 05 Jan 2023 08:21:34 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00055">00055</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>The nibs had disappeared.</p>
<p>Inky had spotted the small ceramic and wicker teapot among
a long row of boxes and bowls at the antique shop on the
thirteenth floor of the Wandering Bazaar while looking for a
Near-weightless Verifying Matter enclosure (NVMe) to their
Handy Duffer Discette as a primary storage. The witch
shopkeeper, Agate, had helpfully mentioned the teapot could be
used to steep very acidic or alkaline solutions, as well as
distil solubles. The box it was subsequently packed in did not
include instructions on activating the precipitation feature.
With the shop not returning for another week by Confidences
reckoning, Inky had used the teapot in the meantime to rinse
off any impurities from an old set of nibs — the very first
functional set they had made as an apprentice inkling — except
the nibs were nowhere to be found when they poured out the
citronella solution and removed the lid. Inky supposed it was
to be expected — some witches liked to go on about equal
payment for wishes, as if it were as easy as reading off a
price tag, and it was difficult to stay irritated at a cute
teapot for long. Inky wrote it off as a gift for what would
hopefully thereafter be a cutely functional teapot. The shop
had a no-refunds policy.</p>
<p>Then came the dream. At first Inky had attributed them to
reading the book on the mythology of The Trine that they had
slipped out of the Runesocesius Library, along with an obscure
cactus leather-bound manuscript containing first-hand accounts
of the Artifice Wars. When the dream repeated itself on the
third night, Inky suspected it had something to do with the
crystals under the Milk Markets roof. While not horrifically
bloody in the way Master Corraidhíns description of the
vision he had from the first crystal had been, it was
haplessly boring when lucid intervention didnt seem to have
any effect. It ran on like a low-budget B-Grade play that had
only three scenes with a few props each. By the fourth night,
the dream had become worse than a nib-nibbling teapot that
they stayed up entire nights for the rest of that week while
they were camping at the Milk Market.</p>
<p>It was mostly an excuse to drop into the kitchens
downstairs — which they could now enter on the pretext of
visiting Bread to observe the apprentices progress — in the
early morning hours and push new tea blends onto its
unfortunate occupants. Most of the three dozen or so infusions
had been full of fruits and spices, six of which would go well
with items on the empanada shops current menu. A handful were
medicinal after procuring a herb illustrated on one
moth-bitten page snatched on the hotel steps back on the Peak.
A few others were teas in the loosest sense of the word. These
were as tasteless and colourless as tap water, only the scent
offering a faint clue as to their ingredients. They had other
applications, least of which was in a prank on one empanada
chef. (Inky left him a box of zephyl tea — another Kelsun Peak
speciality besides mulled wine — before he could too riled up,
though.)</p>
<p>The note left at the Milk Market was the black cherry atop
the hassle cake. Confidence was fairly sure that the fine
establishment mentioned in the note wouldnt appear on the day
indicated. Couldnt “Mother” have chosen to meet somewhere a
little more convenient? So it was that despite the shop having
a no-refunds policy, or because of it, Inky found themselves
returning to the antique shop inside the Wandering Bazaar a
week later looking for another item. “Do you sell flight
vessels that could transport people to and from specific
places … such as the Harpoon Club?” they asked the witch.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You and the witch go back and forth a few times before she
realizes that you want to visit a place where it is when it
isnt there.</p>
<p>“Transdimensional extratemporal colocation?” Agate claps
her hands in delight. “This is going to be fun! A witchy
problem wants a witchy solution. Thats what my Auntie
Tenfingers always said!”</p>
<p>“Why bother with flying contraptions when you yourself are
a perfectly adequate vessel? Im going to prescribe you a
dream ritual,” she says, scribbling in a notebook. “Its
complex. But only because its a lot of steps. And the timing
is kind of particular in a couple places. But if you follow
the directions, you shouldnt have any trouble.” She rips the
page out of the notebook and hands it you.</p>
<p>“Basically, youll enter a hosts dreams, and then delve
into the Collective Unconsciousness. From there you should be
able to find the Wandering Bazaars pocket dimension. Of
course youll need to find a guide to take you there. Youll
have to find one in the Sea of Dreams.”</p>
<p>“And youll need this!” She ducks behind the counter and
reappears with a smoke-gray box bound with thick black ribbon.
Its about as long as her forearm. She unwraps the box and
opens it and pulls out a thick, round candle. It is an
unhealthy, sickening translucent yellow. In the base of the
candle is a large, blackened, withered, and shriveled hand. It
is within and without the candle. As though it is grasping the
base of the candle, but also like it has been molded into the
candle on purpose. As though the hand is imprisoned in the
wax. You can just make out a hazy small round object in the
center of the candle through the wax. A large nut or marble.
The hand looks like it is reaching for it. The candle has been
burned down a fair bit. The wick is low and trimmed, and the
edges are black and warped where the fatty wax has melted and
hardened. You guess theres only about two-thirds left of the
candle.</p>
<p>The witch measures down from the top of the candle with a
length of string and bores a small hole in its side. She
wedges a large nail into the hole, leaving half of it jutting
out. “A crude clock,” she winks at you. “Place the candle on a
hard metal plate. When it burns down enough for the wax here
to soften, the nail will fall out and strike the plate and
wake you up.”</p>
<p>She pushes it across the counter toward you and frowns.
“Eh, should be okay,” she shrugs. “But if at any point it
looks like the base gets soft enough that the hand might be
able to grasp the eye,” she cautions pointing toward the round
object in the center of the candle, “smash the thing. As hard
as you can. Destroy the hand, and run.”</p>
<p>“The rest of the instructions should be pretty self
explanatory!” she exclaims, perking up. “Let me know if you
have any questions!”</p>
<details>
<summary>
Ritual Details
</summary>
<figure>
<img src="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/ritual.png"
alt="ritual outline" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">ritual outline</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Ritual Steps In Brief:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p>Find a volunteer to be the Dream Host.</p></li>
<li><p>Link your sanctum to the place where the Bazaar will be
on the appointed date. (You cant just do your ceremony out in
the open in the middle of the street! Find somewhere you can
safely leave your bodies for a few hours.)</p></li>
<li><p>Draw a circle of salt.</p></li>
<li><p>At the appointed time, put the Dream Host in the
circle. Also the Travelers (you), the Dream Sigil, and the
Nyxmaer Candle.</p></li>
<li><p>Once the Host is asleep (Sleep spell not included),
light the candle and enter the Hosts dream.</p></li>
<li><p>Turn “away” from the dream, cross the Sea of Dreams to
the Collective Unconsciousness.</p></li>
<li><p>Find the Bazaars pocket dimension.</p></li>
</ol>
</details>
<blockquote>
<p>The day the letter arrived Alex was nowhere to be found. It
was a bit strange, somewhat chilling even, that hed disappear
like that. Ever since they had arrived back at the Milk Maid
hed been seen skulking about his uncles study, or pacing the
garden out back somewhat agitatedly. Unbeknownst to the party,
Alex had anticipated the arrival of the letter, HQ had been
following every lead they could pull in since he began with
the Ginnarak recovery team. Not that they really had much to
go off of, but the courier who left the letter wasnt hard to
track. That was, until he slipped inside one of the ever
changing shops right as it was moving along.</p>
<p>The trail went cold after that. Which meant Alex had to get
it moving again, or at least the crumpled communique hed
received said as much. Things were moving too quickly to think
too hard on the how, all that was needed was action, something
drastic to flush things out.</p>
<p>Thats why Alex finds himself on the east side of the
market, skulk about the back alley behind The Temporal
Cup.</p>
<p>“Gotta get this shit ready, theres no other options here”
Alex thought to himself. He loathed this type of work, it was
messy, abhorrently vile in his mind, but what choice did he
have? His hands worked deftly at the wires in the small
package hidden inside the recess of a loose brick. Once
finished, the little packet came to life, muted lights
blicking away happily as the brick slid back over it.</p>
<p>This was the 3rd and final eavesdropping device, all placed
at the busiest cafes in market, all rigged with self destruct
mechanisms large enough to level the building if theyre
found.. The eavesdropping Alex could abide by, but the wanton
destruction for the sake of security was painful to
swallow.</p>
<p>But once again, it wasnt much like Alex had a say in the
matter. The first sign of objection, an inclination that hed
refuse orders, and theyd have an assassin on him before he
could leave the alley. And if he took it out, theyd send
double, thered be no rest.</p>
<p>— Later that day</p>
<p>Alex watched twtxt feeds scroll through from his monitoring
devices. Most of it unimportant gossip. So and so haves an
affair, whats for lunch, where to find good empanadas in the
market, so on and so forth. An endless stream on the pulse of
the market.</p>
<p>It was errant curiosity to watch these, the Magic Lichen in
the monitoring system was trained to hunt for any hint of what
the courier was up to, any twinge from Blavin and his ilk.
Itd send alerts straight to him as soon as something came up,
but it was interesting to see the pulse of the city trail by.
And what else could he do? It was too dangerous to go back to
the Milk Maid, any hint he was there could blow his cover.
Best to lay low for the time being, let the scrapers scrape
and the agents comb the streets until they get a bead on their
target.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Milk Market HQ ought to be quiet. Alex has been
conspicuously absent. Missing in action. Inky seems to be out
making rounds delivering tea, or spending more time than usual
at the empenadaria. So Milk Market HQ ought to be quiet.</p>
<p>Instead, a certain young hemogoblin and a certain yellow
duck (both of whom have yet to be named, by the way) are
squealing as they rampage through the rooms on the top floor
of the building, upsetting the furniture in their wake and in
general making a huge mess.</p>
<p>It took some coaxing on the hemogoblins part. The duck was
determinedly uninterested in anything besides a soak in its
tub and a nap on its cushion. And it did a good job of
ignoring the persistent, pestering goblin for most of the
afternoon. But jumping into a wooden tub full of blood cracked
the fouls disinterested facade. It gave furious chase to the
goblin until the heat of the moment cooled down. At which
point the two of them simply enjoyed the thrill of chasing
each other through the apartments.</p>
<p>Confidence is actually the first one to stumble across the
carnage. They were just popping by to drop off some new
pamphlets, but froze in the doorway when they saw the suite in
disarray and the walls plastered with blood and feathers.
“What the toque…” And then they quietly closed the door and
left without going in after all.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Gliftwirp browses the stalls trailing behind the Wandering
Bazaar. He is bare chested save for a sleeveless vest. He
wears long, baggy, striped trousers bunched at the ankle, and
a bright red sash tied loosely around his waist. He grins a
wide, gap-toothed grin as he thumps a melon.</p>
<p>“Look at the size of this melon! And perfectly ripe!” he
beams at the stall vendor. “Youll be here next week? With
more like this?”</p>
<p>Very few people would be able to tell Gliftwirps
profession from his attire. For those who can, one look at his
red sash would immediately cause them to give him a wide
berth. Because Gliftwirp is a warpwefter. A master assassin
trained in the ancient art of sarong-fu. That is, the deadly
application of soft and flexible weapons. Whips, chains,
garrotes, nunchucks. And most famously—and most
effectively—sashes, sarongs, scarves, and the like. The saying
goes that a clothed warpwefter is never unarmed. Nor even is a
nude one if they can get their hands on <em>your</em> clothes.
And a warpwefter can sneak their weapons into the most secure
of locations.</p>
<p>“I am a visitor here, and dont know my way around,” he
keeps up the small-talk with the vendor, having paid for the
melon. “Do you know if there is a building around here called
Milk Market? Im supposed to meet someone there. No, theyre
not expecting me. Its going to be a surprise!”</p>
<p>He grins his wide toothy grin.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The twtxt feed from the listening devices is dull and
quiet. The monitoring software is designed to only deliver
messages containing certain buzzwords. And those messages are
few and far between.</p>
<p>You decide to tap into the unfiltered stream and let the
endless waves of blather wash over you. Its inane. Idle
gossip and mindless chitter-chatter.</p>
<p>After a day or two of this, you notice yourself getting
uncharacteristically agitated. You squint at the lines of
messages coming in and notice a few transposed characters in
some of them, forming new nonsensical words. A couple messages
are missing some whitespace, squishing words together in
maddening run-ons. Glitchy. Theres no reason the listening
devices should be returning errors like this.</p>
<p>Later still, the feeds have gotten worse. Some words seem
to be written backwards. Entire messages are garbled word
soup, devoid of any meaning or sense whatsoever. Some of the
timestamps are invalid datetimes. But you prefer them to the
ones that are valid, but which are stamped years ago. And you
far prefer them to the ones that are stamped far in the
future.</p>
<p>The anomalies are overall infrequent. On their own, they
dont amount to much. And when you show them, nobody at HQ
gives you with much more than a slightly patronizing,
indulgent shrug. But the glitches shouldnt be happening at
all, is the thing. And when you compile them all together, you
start to notice things. Patterns insinuating themselves,
maddeningly just short of reason or meaning. Like a song stuck
in your head when you cant remember the lyrics or the melody.
But theres something there nonetheless. The promise of
something, at least. Something bigger. A wide tapestry of
links and connections, wanting to be known.</p>
<p>There are names. Ellis, the lady in red who sits at the
center of a tangled web. Ousia, a sea of endless knowledge. A
sea of magic. The 215R Dude, a denizen of the other side who
can deliver you to its shores. Other strange beings who lurk
just out of sight, just beyond the veil of perception. The
veil that you are now beginning to pierce with the snippets
and snatches of information you pluck from your feeds.</p>
<p>You start to see signs of the veil elsewhere. Of the
conspiracy. Whatever. You cant decide what to call it. Street
graffiti outside of a red spider spinning a red web. Phrases
like “215R” show up in random articles in the paper. As though
the secret world is trying to cross over. Or to draw you into
it.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
]]>
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