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<body>
<header id="title-block-header">
<h1 class="title">BASEMENT QUEST</h1>
</header>
<nav id="TOC" role="doc-toc">
<ul>
<li><a href="#stats" id="toc-stats">Stats</a></li>
<li><a href="#about" id="toc-about">About</a></li>
<li><a href="#characters" id="toc-characters">Characters</a>
<ul>
<li><a href="#alex" id="toc-alex">Alex</a></li>
<li><a href="#corraidhín" id="toc-corraidhín">Corraidhín</a></li>
<li><a href="#gabs" id="toc-gabs">Gabs</a></li>
<li><a href="#glarg" id="toc-glarg">Glarg</a></li>
<li><a href="#inky" id="toc-inky">Inky</a></li>
<li><a href="#jarrod" id="toc-jarrod">Jarrod</a></li>
<li><a href="#sneaky-willows" id="toc-sneaky-willows">Sneaky
Willows</a></li>
<li><a href="#tea-filler" id="toc-tea-filler">Tea Filler</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#meta" id="toc-meta">Meta</a>
<ul>
<li><a href="#policies" id="toc-policies">Policies</a></li>
<li><a href="#mechanics" id="toc-mechanics">Mechanics</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#paths-and-templates" id="toc-paths-and-templates">Paths
and Templates</a>
<ul>
<li><a href="#path-of-the-duck-outlaw"
id="toc-path-of-the-duck-outlaw">Path of the Duck Outlaw</a></li>
<li><a href="#path-of-the-murderhobo"
id="toc-path-of-the-murderhobo">Path of the Murderhobo</a></li>
<li><a href="#path-of-the-retriever" id="toc-path-of-the-retriever">Path
of the Retriever</a></li>
<li><a href="#path-of-the-soulsword" id="toc-path-of-the-soulsword">Path
of the Soulsword</a></li>
<li><a href="#path-of-the-tasseomancer"
id="toc-path-of-the-tasseomancer">Path of the Tasseomancer</a></li>
<li><a href="#path-of-the-were-hare" id="toc-path-of-the-were-hare">Path
of the Were-Hare</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#chapter-1" id="toc-chapter-1">Chapter 1</a></li>
<li><a href="#chapter-2" id="toc-chapter-2">Chapter 2</a></li>
<li><a href="#current-story" id="toc-current-story">Current Story</a>
<ul>
<li><a href="#00038" id="toc-00038">00038</a></li>
<li><a href="#00039" id="toc-00039">00039</a></li>
<li><a href="#00040" id="toc-00040">00040</a></li>
<li><a href="#00041" id="toc-00041">00041</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><a href="#bestiary" id="toc-bestiary">Bestiary</a></li>
<li><a href="#geography" id="toc-geography">Geography</a></li>
<li><a href="#cosmology" id="toc-cosmology">Cosmology</a></li>
<li><a href="#history" id="toc-history">History</a></li>
<li><a href="#afterword" id="toc-afterword">Afterword</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<h2 id="stats">Stats</h2>
<p>Total length: 40358 words / 172 minute read. (Mind you, that’s the
length of this entire page, including all the extra bits and bobs. Not
just the story.)</p>
<p>There have been 143 messages posted over 156 days since the first
post on July 13, 2022 for a daily post rate of .91.</p>
<h2 id="about">About</h2>
<p>This is a game that me and the kids in the basement are playing over
email.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00004.html">www
thread</a></p>
<p>You can <a href="#chapter-1">read from the beginning</a>, or jump
into the <a href="#current-story">current story arc</a>.</p>
<p>If you’re not on the mailing list and want to keep up with the story,
you can <a href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml">subscribe to
the rss feed</a>.</p>
<h2 id="characters">Characters</h2>
<h3 id="alex">Alex</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>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 &amp; 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.</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: sinatra</li>
<li>XP: 1</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1, Investigation 2, Illusions 2</li>
<li>Equipment:</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="corraidhín">Corraidhín</h3>
<p>Status: timestuck in a fork bomb</p>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>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.</p>
<p>I believe my skills naturally lend themselves to this expedition. I’m
certain you’ll need someone to elucidate upon the history of these
artifacts, and should trouble come our way I’m ready at hand with spells
a plenty. I’m not the best with a sword, but can hold my own with a bow
staff, but it may be best to leave the fighting up to you younguns. If
we encounter arcane ruins or cryptic texts you’ll find my skills just as
useful as the finest blade in battle.</p>
<p>I think with my share of the reward I’ll buy more books. Lots and
lots of books, a whole library of books! And then I’ll start a library,
yes that sounds delightful. And maybe one of those books will have some
information on ridding me of that accursed demon, but that’s another
story entirely.</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: sinatra</li>
<li>XP: 0</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1, Arcane Lore 2, Sneak 2, Combat Magic 2</li>
<li>Equipment: Sword of Yam’L, Ginnarak Crystal (Earth)</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start</li>
<li>Soulsword: Bloodlust</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="gabs">Gabs</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides,
“I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”</p>
<p>Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the
journey!</p>
<p>Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and
have fun!</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: archangelic</li>
<li>XP: 0</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1, Stabbing 2</li>
<li>Equipment:</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="glarg">Glarg</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>I am Glarg, an earth elemental who was conjured by a wizard who was
immediately beheaded after summoning me. By some freak accident I was
not sent back home to the earth elemental plane when the spell should
have ended. While I have learned the common tonge in my time on this
plane, I have not developed the ability to speak it, because I have no
mouth. I’m a very gentle soul who is misunderstood because of my hard,
cold exterior.</p>
<p>I’m pretty durable and good with rocks.</p>
<p>With my share of the money, I plan to hire a mage to send me home, or
turn everyone else into earth elementals.</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: kindrobot</li>
<li>XP: 0</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="inky">Inky</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>Inkulos Iridis greets you merrily! Some call me Inky the Tiny because
of my slight size (perfectly average for imps, I assure you!) and a
fondness for ink.</p>
<p>I may be small and nowhere as battle-hardened as knights in shining
armour, but I can skip out of a monster’s grasp before you can say
“scram!”, slip through the cracks (often unseen), scout for useful
items, and brew all kinds of ink with special effects for discerning
drinkers.</p>
<p>What do you plan to do with your cut of the money? Buy lots of ink
ingredients, of course! With the money, the very first ink patio with
the best paper nibbles will be opening to serve all from far and wide
very soon!</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: mio</li>
<li>XP: 1</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1, Persuasive 2, Plantomancy 2</li>
<li>Equipment: Handy Duffer Discette, Fine Feathered Quills, Jade Tea
Set, Mountain Range Glyph Ink, Bead of the Werehare</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
<li>Were-Hare: Lepusthropy, Beast Sense, Hybrid Form</li>
<li>Tasseomancer: Reading, Ceremony</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="jarrod">Jarrod</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>A broad-chested, olive skinned human finishes a pint of ale with a
long swig. He greets the group with a merry-looking smile, though it
doesn’t seem to touch his eyes. He seems a touch distracted, as if
something else is on his mind. A feeling of lingering sadness touches
his aura.</p>
<p>“Greetings, my friends! My name is Jarrod. And this here …” he taps a
heavy warhammer leaning against the back of his chair “… is Gertrude.
When it comes to danger, consider us your shield. I will blunt what
dangers may come from ahead and protect those who shelter behind. I’m
more than good in a fight, specializing in up-close battles and …” he
gives a small smirk “… alternative forms of negotiations.”</p>
<p>He leans over and places his elbows on the table, tenting his fingers
and leaning in with his chin touching them as he continues. A thin
leather cord adorned with small charms carved from bone is draped around
his left wrist.</p>
<p>“Other than that, I’m willing to take on cooking chores and spin the
occasional tale around a campfire. My cut of the money goes towards
opening my own tavern when I retire.”</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: marcus</li>
<li>XP: 0</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1, Oratory 2</li>
<li>Equipment: Fascinating Bangle</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="sneaky-willows">Sneaky Willows</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>I’m “Sneaky” Willows (nobody knows my actual name), an elvish
pickpocket with a love for sneakin’, stabbin’ and music playin’! Some
people say I’m no good at music playin’, but then I go sneakin’ and
stabbin’ em!</p>
<p>On this team I think I’m gonna be good at sneakin’ up to those
crystals and grabbin’ em right from under the guard’s noses!</p>
<p>With my money I’m plannin’ to hire a bard to teach me more music, so
I can really impress people with my playin’ and maybe not even have to
stab them!</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: nico</li>
<li>XP: 0</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
</ul>
<h3 id="tea-filler">Tea Filler</h3>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Bio</p>
</summary>
<p>Who: Teefoon Filler of the Bucket, Knight of the 3rd order of
Balmarlovemeer, Crester of the Golden-Fringed Ridge and 2nd to the
Keeper of the Grimoire Glorious. You may call me “Tea.” (Tea is,
notably, a giant. ~11ft tall).</p>
<p>What: Retired Cleric turned Archeologist.</p>
<p>Cash: A sturdy wagon and 5 head of oxen to pull it. I wish to travel
further than my legs can take me.</p>
</details>
<ul>
<li>Player: eli</li>
<li>XP: 0</li>
<li>Skills: Do Anything 1</li>
</ul>
<p>Paths:</p>
<ul>
<li>Retriever: Contractual Obligation, An Auspicious Start, Two In The
Hand</li>
</ul>
<h2 id="meta">Meta</h2>
<p>Welcome to Basement Quest!</p>
<p>We’re gonna play this by ear, and cross each bridge only when we get
to it.</p>
<h3 id="policies">Policies</h3>
<ul>
<li><p>Safety: Practice safe roleplaying.</p>
<ul>
<li>X Card: <a href="http://tinyurl.com/x-card-rpg"
class="uri">http://tinyurl.com/x-card-rpg</a></li>
<li>TTRPG Safety Toolkit: <a href="https://t.co/gA6hV6VKqm"
class="uri">https://t.co/gA6hV6VKqm</a></li>
</ul></li>
<li><p>Cadence: I’ll move the story along roughly once a week. Hopefully
that gives everybody time to post something and participate.</p></li>
<li><p>Open Table / Inclusion over realism: If you disappear for a while
and then come back, your character will immediately reappear as though
they’ve been there the whole time. Come and go as you please. Open door
policy! Drop in and drop out as you please.</p></li>
<li><p>Linearity: Respond only to the most recent email in the thread.
(We might play around with time later, but for now, let’s keep it
simple.)</p></li>
</ul>
<h3 id="mechanics">Mechanics</h3>
<p>Shoes in the Dark:</p>
<p><a href="https://dozens.itch.io/shoes-in-the-dark"
class="uri">https://dozens.itch.io/shoes-in-the-dark</a></p>
<p>To do something, say that you do it, and then it probably
happens!</p>
<p>If there is a risk, or chance of failure, we’ll roll dice to
determine the outcome. We’ll use a variation of “Roll for Shoes” because
it’s probably the most simple system there is. Everybody will start out
pretty even skills wise. But you will eventually get really good at
really specific things.</p>
<p>Everybody starts with one skill: <em>Do anything 1</em></p>
<p>So to attempt to <em>do anything</em>, roll 1d6.</p>
<ul>
<li>1 - 3: Things go poorly. Gain 1 xp.</li>
<li>4 - 5: Partial success / success at cost</li>
<li>6: Great success!</li>
</ul>
<p>If you roll all sixes, you gain a new +1 skill which must be a subset
of the skill you just used.</p>
<p>Example:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Player: I kick down the door. I’ll roll Do Anything (1) aaaand,
that’s a six!”</p>
<p>Referee: You now have “Kicking Down Doors 2”</p>
<p>Later….</p>
<p>Player: I bust down the door with a flying kick! I’ll roll Kicking
Down Doors 2 aaaand, two sixes!</p>
<p>Referee: You now have “Doorbane 3”</p>
<p>Player: Siiiick, doors fear me.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Every time you fail a roll, you gain 1 xp.</p>
<p>You can spend xp to turn any die into a six for the purpose of
advancement.</p>
<h2 id="paths-and-templates">Paths and Templates</h2>
<p>Templates are skills and abilities, organized into <em>paths</em>,
that players can discover and unlock through play as their characters
learn and discover more about the world.</p>
<p>They are the lambda calculus answer to “classes” in traditional
ttrpgs: a kind of anonymous class that everybody has access to, that you
can combine and mix and match.</p>
<p>How it works:</p>
<p>Each path has a bunch of templates.</p>
<p>Every template starts with a rank (a number), followed by a name (in
bold), a trigger (in parenthesis), and finally a description.</p>
<p>You can unlock any template by satisfying its trigger in-game,
provided you have already unlocked at least one template of every rank
below it, in the same path. (The exceptions are templates of rank zero,
which are the entry level templates for each path, and do not have such
a requirement.)</p>
<p>Example:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Path of the Goblin Slayer</p>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Favored Foe</strong> (Slay 100 goblins): You are now an
expert when facing this foe. From now on when attacking a goblin, a roll
of 5 - 6 is considered a critical success. 4 - 5 is a success. And 1 - 3
is a mixed success.</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
<p>The path is “Path of the Goblin Slayer”. The rank of the first
template is 0, so there are no prerequisites. (If it had been, say, 2,
then you would need to have unlocked a template of rank 1 and of rank 0
in the same path before unlocking this one.) The name is “Favored Foe”.
The trigger is “Slay 100 goblins”. And the perk is detailed in the
description.</p>
<h3 id="path-of-the-duck-outlaw">Path of the Duck Outlaw</h3>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Inspired by <em>juego del pato</em>, the traditional, much maligned,
national sport of Argentina. <a
href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pato"
class="uri">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pato</a>. Credit to ~mio for
kicking off this idea.</p>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Basket Duck</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>Gaucho</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>Pate-au-pato</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Pecking Duck</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Duck Trap</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Dog</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>Pants Is Overrated</strong> (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?</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>Feather Fall</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="4" type="1">
<li><strong>Pato</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="5" type="1">
<li><strong>Duck Typing</strong> (Make an ink from the roasted beans of
the java plant and a quill from a duck feather. Write on a parchment in
<em>javascript</em> 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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="5" type="1">
<li><strong>Arrogate</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
<h3 id="path-of-the-murderhobo">Path of the Murderhobo</h3>
<p>You are an angel of death. A dirty, homeless angel of death with no
conscious or qualms with killing the innocent.</p>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Hobo</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>Bully</strong> (Destroy something weak and defenseless): You
always have the drop on somebody weaker, smaller, less wealthy, or
otherwise worse off than you.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Pocket Sand</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>In Cold Blood</strong> (Kill an innocent person in cold
blood): When it is unprovoked or unexpected, your first attack always
hits its target.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="4" type="1">
<li><strong>Arsonist</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="5" type="1">
<li><strong>The Devil’s Luck</strong> (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.</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
<h3 id="path-of-the-retriever">Path of the Retriever</h3>
<p>The Perks of the Job</p>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Contractual Obligation</strong> (Agree to retrieve 5
crystals for the Benefactor): You have access to the Benefactor’s
resources through your handler, Blavin Blandfoot.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>An Auspicious Start</strong> (Retrieve 1 crystal): You gain
a team of rivals: the Retrieval Team 70 gophers. If you don’t have a 2
dice skill yet, gain one of your choosing.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Two In The Hand</strong> (Retrieve 2 crystals): Two in the
hand are technically worth four in the bush. That’s the going exchange
rate, anyway. Gain one 2 dice skill of your choosing.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>The Triple Lindy</strong> (Retrieve 3 crystals): “Is that
hard?” “It’s impossible.” Turn any 2 dice skill into a 3 dice
skill.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="4" type="1">
<li><strong>Pareto Roll</strong> (Retrieve 4 crystals): A mere 20% of
resources drive 80% of the outcomes. What does that have to do with
crystals? I don’t know, but you have 80% of them now. From now on, you
can spend 1 xp to reroll any 1 die.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="5" type="1">
<li><strong>HOT TUB PARTY</strong> (Retrieve 5 crystals): You win a
visit to the Benefactor’s mansion, including dinner and a dip in the hot
tub!</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
<h3 id="path-of-the-soulsword">Path of the Soulsword</h3>
<p>You have a unique bond with a sentient sword</p>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Bloodlust</strong> (Discover and obtain a sentient, magical
sword): Your sword has a lust for stabbing that can only be satisfied
with blood. Your sword counts as a 3 dice skill when attacking, but you
must also roll to resist being overcome by a mindless bloodlust,
striking out at whoever happens to be nearby.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>Spell Sword</strong> (Cast a spell on your sword after
satisfying its bloodlust): You can cast a spell on your sword to store
it for quick casting later: on your turn, if you hit with your sword,
you can automatically cast the stored spell in addition to doing damage
with the sword.</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
<h3 id="path-of-the-tasseomancer">Path of the Tasseomancer</h3>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Reading</strong> (Obtain a magical tea set): You can see
omens in the tea leaves left after drinking tea from your magic tea
set.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>Ceremony</strong> (Perform a ritual tea ceremony every day
for a month): Time for tea! Once a day, you can announce a tea party,
temporarily putting an end to any hostilities for as long as it takes to
enjoy 3 cups of tea.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Steeping</strong> (Offer something of great personal value
to the teapot. It vanishes and does not return): Practically anything
can be steeped in your teapot to extract oils and soluables. Drinking
such a prepared concoction will temporarily grant you some aspect of
that which was steeped.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Gossip</strong> (Betray the trust of a loved one): During a
tea ceremony, you can compel one creature to answer one question
truthfully.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>Blending</strong> (Create 24 different infusions): You can
steep two ingredients at once, gaining benefits from both when drinking
the infusion.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>Scrying</strong> (Detain a guest at your tea ceremony for 24
hours): The precise location of anybody who drinks your tea is known to
you for 24 hours after they consume it.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="3" type="1">
<li><strong>Caffeine</strong> (Stay up all night drinking tea for 3
days): You can boost the stimulant effects of your tea. Perform a tea
ceremony forgo the need to sleep, while also gaining the benefits of a
full night’s rest.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="4" type="1">
<li><strong>Bottomless Pour</strong> (Make a single pot of tea last you
three days): Your teapot always has one more cup of tea in it.</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
<h3 id="path-of-the-were-hare">Path of the Were-Hare</h3>
<p>You have been cursed to wander this world; half man, half rabbit.</p>
<ul>
<li><ol start="0" type="1">
<li><strong>Lepusthropy</strong> (Gain the curse of lepusthropy): Every
full moon, you become a monstrous human/rabbit hybrid with an insatiable
craving for fresh vegetables.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol type="1">
<li><strong>Beast Sense</strong> (Talk to a rabbit): Rabbits and hares
will obey your orders. You can sense when there are rabbits or hares
nearby.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Hybrid Form</strong> (Embrace the curse): You can assume
hybrid form at will. Your sharp, pointy teeth do damage as a 3 dice
skill. You can only maintain this form for a short time, and are left
weak afterwards.</li>
</ol></li>
<li><ol start="2" type="1">
<li><strong>Beast Form</strong> (Meditate on the form of a rabbit every
day for a month): You can assume the form or a rabbit or hare. The
longer you maintain this form, the more risk you won’t be able to change
back!</li>
</ol></li>
</ul>
<h2 id="chapter-1">Chapter 1</h2>
<p>This is the first installment of BASEMENT QUEST.</p>
<p>Jump to: <a href="#00001">1</a> <a href="#00002">2</a> <a
href="#00003">3</a> <a href="#00004">4</a> <a href="#00005">5</a> <a
href="#00006">6</a> <a href="#00007">7</a> <a href="#00008">8</a> <a
href="#00009">9</a> <a href="#00010">10</a> <a href="#00011">11</a> <a
href="#00012">12</a> <a href="#00013">13</a> <a href="#00014">14</a> <a
href="#00015">15</a> <a href="#00016">16</a> <a href="#00017">17</a> <a
href="#00018">18</a> <a href="#00019">19</a> <a href="#00020">20</a></p>
<h4 id="00001">00001</h4>
<p>“Congratulations!” The slightly tipsy hobbit grins and salutes you
with his martini. “On Retrieval Team 43’s inaugural mission! I’m so
excited for you, I’m sure you’ll do fantastic!”</p>
<p>You are all seated around a table in the corner at Lucy’s Basement.
It is dimly lit and fairly noisy. The walls are covered in red velvet
curtains, and the tablecloths have little gold tassels. A cloud of
purple smoke from candles, cigars, and pipes hangs in the air. Waiters
bustle between tables refilling drinks.</p>
<p>“So to recap, the Benefactor has tasked you with retrieving the five
fabled Ginnarak Crystals. I, Blavin Blandfoot, will be your case
manager. You will be paid handsomely for each crystal you retrieve. And
if you retrieve all 5, you’ll get to meet the Benefactor at be their
guest at their <em>glorious mansion!</em>”</p>
<p>“The first crystal has been spotted near a Gnomish dig site in the
Tammineaux Forest, just east of here.”</p>
<p>“I recommend getting started right away!” He polishes off his drink
and squints at his empty glass. “Well, maybe first thing in the morning.
Waiter!”</p>
<ul>
<li>Who are you?</li>
<li>What role do you think you will fill on the team?</li>
<li>What do you plan to do with your cut of the money?</li>
</ul>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00002">00002</h4>
<p>Blavin provides you with a multibeast for your excursion. “Courtesy
of the Benefactor!” You pack it up with food and supplies, and trek into
the Tammineaux Forest in search of the first Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>The forest is lush, thick, and green. You have to hack your way
through the vines and the brush. There are stinging insects, squawking
birds, and dangerous forest creatures a plenty. It is hot and
sticky.</p>
<p>How will you ever find your way through this wilderness to the dig
site?</p>
<p>“Shouldn’t be too hard,” you remember Blavin saying back at Lucy’s,
gesturing carelessly and sloshing a little bit of his fourth drink.
“They’re gnomes, after all! Just follow the sound of explosions and
screaming.”</p>
<p>Sure enough, before long you hear a mechanical droning and some
blasting up ahead, punctuated now and then by high pitched screams, and
you guide the multibeast in that direction.</p>
<p>Suddenly you are ambushed by a troop of blahoblins! Awful looking
things. Taut rubbery gray skin. Long flat noses stick out way far from
their faces. And so do their protruding, lipless mouths full of sharp
pointy teeth. You didn’t hear them over the noise of the shrieking
parrots and, in the distance, the shrieking gnomes.</p>
<p>“SHOE SHINE!!” the first one yells. It is wearing a gold ring on each
finger (minus the three fingers it is missing), two in each ear, and one
in its nose. It is dragging a vat of black polish nearly as tall as it
is.</p>
<p>“SHOE SHINE!!” a second one agrees. It is wearing a nice waistcoat
with large gaudy buttons, and a nice looking pocket watch on a gold
chain. It is dragging a comfy looking chair stuffed with bits of fluff
and leaves and fur.</p>
<p>A third one screams, “SHOE SHINE SHOE SHINE!” It has several gold
teeth and carries a huge block of cheese secured to its back with long
loops of hempen rope.</p>
<p>The fourth and final one is wearing what looks like freshly painted
red shoes and is carrying a lit torch. “SHOE SHIIIIINE!” it screams. It
is wearing a gold medallion on a gold necklace.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00003">00003</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>“SHOE SHINE!” Bellows Tea, with a full bodied laugh!</p>
<p>With a well practiced move, faster than one would think giant like
Tea could move, Tea removes an object from their satchel.</p>
<p>…at first glance it appears to be a flail without a handle, but is
actually a spare pair of giant boots, held by their laces.</p>
<p>“These could indeed use a good shining.”</p>
<p>The boot are spectacularly large, probably a 1/2 size too large, in
all honest, for even Tea’s feet.</p>
<p>The boots have gold eyelets.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Earrings greedily snatches the boots and start washing, drying, and
polishing them to a shine. Waistcoat eagerly tugs on Tea’s wrist and
guides him to the comfy chair, which is decidedly too small for his
bulky frame. Teeth graciously offers him a wedge of cheese.</p>
<p>Depending on how observant Tea is, he may or may not notice that the
boots are returned to him with 1 - 3 fewer eyelets.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Bending down, Inky sniffs the bottles carefully, mumbling, “Creosote,
shellac, hopweed … ou, wild cherry liquorice.” Then, a little louder to
one of the blahoblins, though it came out not much more than a squeak,
“Might I ask from where did you get these?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Shoe Polish! We Make! Roots and ash!” shouts Waistcoat. They seem to
only have the one volume.</p>
<p>“Beeswax!” yells Earrings.</p>
<p>“Resin!” cries Teeth.</p>
<p>“SHOE SHIIINE!” they all cry in unison.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00022.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00004">00004</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>“And jolly good polish too, it looks like,” Inky replies, squinting a
bit at the ichor being smeared onto the boots in Earrings’ large
calloused hands. “I hear there be some gnomes hereabouts? A camp? With
your remarkable service, I bet they’d be coming to you all the time to
get their boots cleaned.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“GNOMES!?” Earrings interrobangs loudly and questioningly. It brings
its hands to the sides of its face, covering its ear holes, and wags its
oversized head in dismay, squeezing its tiny eyes shut. In the process,
it smears polish around its face.</p>
<p>“Gnomes there!” shouts Waistcoat. Its hands busy polishing, it tosses
its head, gesturing with its prodigious proboscis in the direction you
were heading. You continue to hear bangs and booms in the distance every
once a while.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Glarg gurgles something to the effect of “gluggurguuuurglaaaachhhh?”
Its stance is one of surprise as its disposition changes to that of
inquisition as its head cranes down to look at the blahoblin carrying
the smelly rock on its back.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Teeth looks questioningly up at Glarg and experimentally gargles back
up at it. “GURGLE BURBLE GLUG GLUG?” It smiles apologetically (a
fearsome sight, its protruding jaws full of tiny pointy teeth) and
shrugs and asks, “Shoe shine?”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It attempts to pick that whole blahoblin up and bring the smelly rock
to its face for a closer inspection.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“WAAAAAAH!” Teeth kicks its feet ineffectively and is quite
helplessly tied to the big smelly rock when Glarg picks it up. The
smelly rock smells pungent, sharp, earthy, moldy. Definitely could be
food.</p>
<p>By this time the blahoblins have polished the shoes of everybody who
has consented to it, and are packing up. Except for Teeth who is being
detained by the earth elemental.</p>
<p>Red Shoes reappears from wherever they have been this whole time with
a sly smile and rejoins its comrades.</p>
<p>Your pockets have successfully been picked while you were distracted
with the shoe shine, but not of anything of particular value.</p>
<p>What small item(s) will you notice is missing in the hours and days
to come? How will its absence be a minor inconvenience?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00031.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00005">00005</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>As the blahoblins were packing up, Inky persuades Waistcoat to sell a
few small bottles of shoe polish, a roughly round piece of broken glass
and scraps of cheesecloth from the mountain of debris previously on the
ground. Inky rolls Do Anything 1 and rolls a 4.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Inky successfully persuades Waistcoat to sell a few baubles and
trinkets with the first roll of the game!</p>
<p>They haggle back and forth a little bit, and Inky ends up paying a
little more than they wanted to, but they get all the stuff they wanted.
Yay commerce!</p>
<p>Having concluded business, the blahoblins pack up and disappear into
the bushes toting their chair, cheese, and vat of polish.</p>
<p>The sound of mechanical droning and periodic explosions compel you
forward to the dig site.</p>
<p>It is easy to find.</p>
<p>It is a large hole blasted deep into the ground. There are drills,
and conveyor belts, earth moving machines, and all kinds of gadgets and
gizmos, the purpose of which is not always readily apparent. And there
is a zip line that seems to be the only way down to the bottom.</p>
<p>The site is absolutely teeming with gnomes. Diminutive humanoids with
bright red noses and long, long ears, and long, nimble fingers. All
gnomes are compulsive tinkerers and mechanics, and build fantastic
contraptions. All gnomes are women, and are all highly explosive. Which
makes their combustion powered machines extremely dangerous, both for
themselves and for any unfortunate bystanders close enough to get caught
in the blast.</p>
<p>A gnome in a white hat comes running up to you. “You there! Hey! Yes,
you!”</p>
<p>“Are you the retrieval team? We’ve been expecting you! The whole dig
is halted because we accidentally blasted into a whole nest of Kobits,
and they won’t let us get near to keep digging! They keep sabotaging our
machines when we try!”</p>
<p>“They also stole the Ginnarak Crystal that we found! That thing could
have powered such glorious new machines!” She pouts.</p>
<p>In the background, a gnome who had crawled half way into a coal bin
in the side of some kind of excavator suddenly scrambles quickly out,
smoking, and runs around in circles in a panic. Nearby gnomes dive out
of the way as she erupts in a small ball of fire. The gnomes wait for
the smoke to clear and then immediately return to working on the
contraption.</p>
<p>The foreman continues talking to you as though nothing happened. She
leads you over to the edge of the hole and points to the bottom.</p>
<p>“The entrance to their cave is right down there! The zip line is the
second fastest way down.”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00035.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00006">00006</h4>
<p>Suddenly three anthropomorphic gophers come crashing through the
trees behind you into the dig site. The first is wearing a sash of many
pockets. The second is wearing cargo shorts of many pockets. The third
is wearing a vest of many pockets. Each wears a pair of goggles with
thick smokey black lenses, and a floppy checkered hat that looks like a
waffle.</p>
<p>They march up to the zip-line.</p>
<p>“Out of the way, losers!” Sash cries. It grabs the zip-line trolley,
and immediately dives off the side of the cliff and zooms down into the
deep, deep hole.</p>
<p>Vest introduces itself, “Retrieval Team 70 here! We are here to
recover the Ginnarak Crystal that is reported to be at this location.
After we collect all five, then it will be <em>us</em> who get to hang
out in the Benefactor’s hot tub! Not you! Ha!”</p>
<p>Sash has reached the bottom of the deep, deep hole. Shorts starts
reeling in the pulley.</p>
<p>Vest leans in close and peers at you through its foggy lenses. “You
must be the new Retrieval Team 43. Hmmph. Shame what happened to the
previous Team 43. Hope you know what you’re doing! Would hate to see you
end up like them!”</p>
<p>Shorts grabs the trolley and leaps down into the deep, deep hole. It
sails all the way down, and joins Sash at the bottom.</p>
<p>“Welp!” Vest concludes with an air of finality. “No hard feelings,
and all that! After we collect this crystal, we just need four more. And
then we get to meet the Benefactor! Ha!”</p>
<p>It waddles off and starts reeling in the trolley.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, another gnome explodes behind you.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-07/msg00036.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00007">00007</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky peers down at the hole, and after some time, turns to the party.
“Do you think they’ve cleared most of the gnomes by now, or should we
wait until they emerge and grab the crystal then?” Gazing at some
invisible spot farther among the trees, Inky continued, “One of the old
miners back at the tavern said there used to be a natural maw on the
southwestern side, but it was blocked when the tunnel caved in many
years ago. The gnomes don’t waste their efforts on blowing up things
knowing someone’s already been through them. Chances are there’s only
one exit, unless this mine is a decoy.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Inky peers down the hole and watches Retrieval Team 70 approach the
kobit caves.</p>
<p>The maw on the southwestern side did indeed collapse several seasons
ago. If you know anything about the industrial and intrepid kobits
however, it is that they have probably dug several alternative, secret
entrances since then.</p>
<p>Just as the gophers reach the cave entrance, a large erge, muscles
rippling beneath its white feathers, emerges from behind a boulder and
blocks their way forward.</p>
<p>It raises the feathery crest on the crown of its head, and fluffs up
its plumage in a dramatic display. It appears to be arguing with the
gophers. All three gophers appear to be arguing back.</p>
<p>The egre gestures angrily at the gophers’ feet, shakes its head, and
crosses its arms defiantly. The gophers look down at their own feet and
shuffle about as though embarrassed.</p>
<p>They all exchange a few more words and then the gophers retreat away
from the egre and the cave entrance. They huddle together briefly and
then start slowly climbing the scaffolding back up to the top of the
hole.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” the foreman remarks absentmindedly. “There’s an egre
guarding the kobit caves.”</p>
<p>The egre below preens and struts about proudly having chased off the
gophers.</p>
<p>“Stubborn things,” the foreman continues. “Easily provoked to
violence. Impeccable fashion sense though.”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-08/msg00003.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00008">00008</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky blinks down at their pinecrab apple leather boots consideringly.
“Tea’s got the fanciest footgear, but at least we aren’t sporting fetid
foot fungi like stockings. Maybe we could persuade the egre to let us
through? It might set us back half a day trying to find any kobit holes
that aren’t just non-portable potties.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You look down at your boots. How serendipitous that you just had them
shined by the blahoblins! You feel confident in your footwear.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín: I may have a solution to the Egre problem. I gesture
grandly, as it so happens I always come prepared for a fashion show.</p>
<p>With a grand gesture I cast a spell to transform my robes into a
stunning suit, complete with top hat, monocle, and cane</p>
<p>I’m certain we can convince the fine fellow to let us pass if we look
the part. Or better yet, I’m almost certain I can distract him while the
rest of you sneak past, I’ve been told I can be quite verbose and
boisterous.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín successfully conjures up a stunning suit, surely the envy
of every dandy, fop, and gentleman in the southern continent, if not all
of Basmentaria!</p>
<p>A nearby gnome gets flush, starts to fan herself excitedly, and then
explodes dramatically.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“A splendid idea, with an equally splendid outfit to match!” Inky
exclaimed. “Then, shall we proceed? Master Corraidhín, at your
signal.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You proceed down into the gnome hole.</p>
<p>Retrieval Team 70 glares at you from behind their smoked glass
goggles as you zip line past them. They continue their slow, defeated
climb up the scaffolding. Vest shakes its gopher fist at you and swears,
“You haven’t seen the last of us, Retrieval Team 43!”</p>
<p>At the bottom, on solid ground, you approach the entrance to the
kobit caves.</p>
<p>Standing guard at the entrance to the kobit tunnels is a massive
egre, a fearsome bird beast, muscles rippling and bulging beneath its
beautiful white plumage. It turns its head and regards you with one jet
black eye and then the other, snapping its sharp beak in the air as it
tosses its head back and forth.</p>
<p>It looks you up and down, and its gaze rests on your freshly polished
shoes. It huffs and grunts, “Your shoes look clean.” It rests its
scrutinizing gaze on Corraidhín’s garments. “And YOU look FABULOUS!” it
exclaims as it tosses its head and beats it wings excitedly.</p>
<p>“You may enter.” It graciously steps aside with a flourish.</p>
<p>The smallest of you can stand upright in the kobit tunnels. The
largest of you have to crawl.</p>
<p>Kobits are small, vaguely mammalian, vaguely reptilian bipedal cave
creatures. They are scaly and furry, and live in tunnels deep in the
earth. They have huge yellow eyes, and long fine whiskers on their
snouts and faces, all of which help them find their way around in the
dark. They also have long, thick, coarse, drooping mustaches. The
overall effect is that they look like tiny, monstrous, perpetually
startled cowboys.</p>
<p>You follow the winding tunnel down into the earth.</p>
<p>You come around a corner and almost bump right into a kobit. It has
eyes like saucers and an awe-inspiring mustache. It wears a name tag
(“Corey”) and carries a clipboard. It blinks at you in surprise and then
asks, “Who are you? What are you doing in here?” Corey flips through the
pages on its clipboard. “There are no upsiders scheduled to arrive
today. I don’t think you’re supposed to be here!” Corey glances around
nervously with its huge eyes and looks about ready to cry out for
help.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-08/msg00012.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00009">00009</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky smiles at Corey. “Hullo! We’re the waterworks crew from the
neaby town, here to check the outhouse tunnels, inspect all the pipes
and so on. We received reports of a blockage somewhere inside the
networks. Have the tunnels been flushing well lately?” While speaking,
Inky flashes a waterworker’s ID briefly at the kobit before pocketing it
and pulling out a pressure gauge, giving the little handle on one side
of the device a few cranks, and looking back at Corey expectantly.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corey slowly blinks its eyes. “Inspektor?”</p>
<p>ASIDE: I rolled for Inky and rolled a six, which according to the
rules means GREAT SUCCESS, and also Inky gets to Level Up: they gain the
skill Persuasive 2.</p>
<p>“Of course! Inspektors! Yes, yes, right this way! A surprise
inspection, how exciting!”</p>
<p>Corey continues to chatter excitedly as it leads you further into the
branching, winding tunnels, pointing out particular bits of stonework
and engineering, and also baubles and trinkets and fossils and artifacts
that the kobits uncovered in the process of digging their tunnels.</p>
<p>Your tour eventually brings you into a large cavern with tunnels
exactly like the one from which you just entered branching off in all
directions. It makes you dizzy to think of finding your way through this
labyrinth without a guide.</p>
<p>In the middle of the cavern is a deep pool with a fountain. At the
bottom of the pool, a SWORD is thrust into the ground almost up to its
hilt. A large jewel set deep in the pommel rolls around like an eye in a
socket and tracks your movement around cavern. A few bubbles float up to
the surface of the pool.</p>
<p>And set into the wall on the far side of the room is a massive stone
door reinforced with thick iron bands. There is a keypad and a small
printer on the wall next to it.</p>
<p>“….and so our tour concludes here in the central atrium!” Corey
concludes excitedly. “Behind this door is the VAULT, where we keep all
the valuables. Gemstones, gold, crystals, et cetera.”</p>
<p>“Top notch security!” Corey exclaims tapping the keypad. The printer
spits out a square of paper. It reads</p>
<pre><code>ed v1.16
*
?
*
?
*e door
19
*,n
1 the door is Locked
*wq</code></pre>
<p>“Ha ha!” Corey shakes its head in amazement. “I have no idea how this
thing works!”</p>
<p>The eye in the sword watches as Corey clips the small printout to its
clipboard.</p>
<p>“Now, I trust you’ll find that everything was in tip-top order! Yes,
indeed!” Corey wriggles its mustache proudly. “Now if you’ll excuse me,”
it flips through the pages on its clipboard, “I am late for my next
appointment. Good day!” Corey turns and walks toward one of the twisty
little passageways, all alike.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-08/msg00016.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00010">00010</h4>
<p>Once Corey the Kobit exits the antechamber, you are free to look
around a little bit.</p>
<p>The eyesword continues to watch from the bottom of the pool, and the
Kobit Ed terminal continues to await you by the vault door.</p>
<p>But also you notice a couple of alcoves along the walls between the
twisty little passages. Each of them holds a relief sculpture depicting
one of the three deities of Basmentaria.</p>
<p>There is Neddas, the wise god of sages and starlight. Androgynous,
clad in purple robes, depicted with a golden third eye in the middle of
their forehead. They are shown here stoically bestowing gifts upon the
inhabitants of Basmentaria.</p>
<p>And here is Nullar, god of time and tides. A bespectacled male figure
with a golden third eye on his forehead. He is dressed in a dapper vest
and bow tie, and is adorned with small cogs and gears. He is depicted
here looking up at the stars from a mechanical contraption he is working
on.</p>
<p>Finally, there is Liandt, goddess of war and flame. A primal,
elemental deity, she is depicted as a fiery warrior with a golden third
eye. The relief shows her on the battlefield during the Artifice wars.
The wars which reduced Ginnarak to the wastes of cinder and ash that
they are today. The wars which drained Liandt’s divine energies so
thoroughly that she fell into a deep sleep and has been absent from the
mortal realms ever since.</p>
<p>But enough of this lore dump! There is something important
happening!</p>
<p>You hear a shuffling and a mumbling approaching from one of the
twisty little passages.</p>
<p>You’re already in one of the alcoves studying the relief, so your
press yourself flat into the recess.</p>
<p>Three gophers with smoked glass goggles spill out from one of the
passages. Retrieval team 70! They made it past the egre after all!</p>
<p>They don’t see you, but head straight to the keypad by the vault.
They crowd around it and start pressing buttons, arguing and bickering
with one another.</p>
<p>The sword at the bottom of the pool seems to roll its eye in
exasperation.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-08/msg00017.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00011">00011</h4>
<p>The Retrieval Team 70 gophers are absolutely losing their minds over
the ed terminal.</p>
<p>“It just keeps printing a question mark!” Vest sobs.</p>
<p>“Try pushing escape?” suggests Shorts somewhat panicking.</p>
<p>“I’ve tried it! It’s not vi! It doesn’t do anything!” Vest moans.
“Here you try it if you’re so smart!”</p>
<p>Sash is balled up on the floor crying, having already had a turn at
the terminal.</p>
<p>Shorts carefully steps over them and timidly prods at the keypad.</p>
<p>A throng of beefy guard kobits come charging into the hall, alerted
by the gopher racket.</p>
<p>“Here now! You’re not supposed to be in here!”</p>
<p>One of them trips over Sash, still balled up on the floor, and
crashes into Shorts’s back, pinning them to wall. They squeal. Another
guard grabs Vest by the collar, and after a brief scuffle all three
gophers are escorted out of the hall despite their howls of protest.</p>
<p>“I had better check on the vault!” exclaims one of the kobits who
remains behind.</p>
<p>They bang a few keys on the terminal and it spits out a slip of
paper.</p>
<pre><code>ed v1.6
19
P
*,n
1 the door is locked
*1s/locked/open
?
*H
no match
*1s/Locked/Open
the door is Open
*wq
17</code></pre>
<p>There is a mechanical whir deep in the walls, and a click and a gasp
of air as the door swings inward.</p>
<p>The kobit slips into the vault and the door swings only partly closed
behind it.</p>
<p>The sword in the bottom of the pool pointedly narrows its eye at
you.</p>
<p>The gods of Basmentaria observe passively from their reliefs in the
alcoves around you.</p>
<p>The door to the vault is ajar, the first of the five legendary
Ginnarak crystals presumably behind it.</p>
<p>From one of the twisty little passages, you hear a guard kobit
approaching, singing a sad cowboy song to itself.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00001.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00012">00012</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Harrumph I say as I billow out my mustache. I know exactly what this
is, I’ve seen these silly terminals at the wizarding academy.
Fascinating little babbles really, not that easy to use, and I find
they’re easier to melt with a well placed fireball or two, but I think I
can get us past without that. Now I might need someone to cover for me
if that Kobit catches onto what I’m doing, and I’ll say the weird sword
is starting to creep me out a bit.</p>
<p>Corraidhin approaches the terminal, cracks his knuckles, and enters:
1,$p</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The printer spits out a piece of paper:</p>
<pre><code>The door is Locked</code></pre>
<blockquote>
<p>Corraidhin stares at the paper. Well, that’s not right, the door’s
only partially closed. Preposterious thing.</p>
<p>That’s okay, I know how to fix this.</p>
<p>19 c there is no door, there never was, and never will be. Also the
Kobit guard forgot to tie his shoes. . w 1,$p</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The printer spits out a slip of paper.</p>
<pre><code>there is no door, there never was, and never will be. Also the Kobit guard forgot to tie his shoes.</code></pre>
<p>With a soft pop, the thick stone door vanishes.</p>
<p>The sword at the bottom of the pool widens its eye in surprise.</p>
<p>Nothing remains between you and the interior of the vault.</p>
<p>Some light from the hall spills in and glints off what appears to be
a mound of gold, gems, and crystals. The rest of its contents are hidden
from view unless you venture inside.</p>
<p>You can still hear the guard kobit in the passage, now whistling a
warbling, lamentful tune. It sounds dangerously close. Best get a move
on if you want to avoid a confrontation.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wisened scholar inspects the vault door, Inky walks a few
steps from the antechamber to meet the Kobit guard, pressure gauge and
tiny notebook in hand. Inky proceeds to ask them about water flow sounds
in the surrounding area, water stains, signs of potential pests that
could damage the pipes, and other rather boring elements pertaining to
modern Basmentia burrow plumbing.</p>
<p>After a while, seeing as they have been conversing for some time,
Inky pulls out two small bottles of chilled arrowroot beer from a waist
pouch and offers one to the Kobit guard.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The big guard kobit’s eyes start to glass over as Inky goes on about
water pressure and structural integrity.</p>
<p>But it does graciously accept a bottle arrowroot beer.</p>
<p>“Well, golly, don’t mind if I do!” It cracks the lid off, toasts to
your health and takes a long swig.</p>
<p>“Aaaaaaaah! That hits the spot!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Corraidhin absentmindedly inspects the terminal and door while Inky
converses with the guard. He’s utterly distracted and talking to
himself.</p>
<p>By the gods, it’s gone. Just like that! I thought it’d fizzle or
something, but it’s gone! I wonder what else I can do with this
thing.</p>
<p>Corraidhin wanders back to the terminal and enters another
command.</p>
<p>19 c The wise and elderly Corraidhin is now a young and dashing
rogue, with a very nice hat. .</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The printer spits out a slip of paper:</p>
<pre><code>?</code></pre>
<p>Maybe the ed terminal only has jurisdiction over the door to the
vault.</p>
<p>Or maybe the machine, the universe, or whatever, is telling you not
to push your luck.</p>
<p>By now the big guard kobit, lulled by Inky’s questions and finally
sedated by the alcohol, is slumped and snoring softly in the mouth of
one of the twisty little passages.</p>
<p>You stand before the open vault under the ever watchful gaze of the
sword at the bottom of the pool of water in the center of the room.</p>
<p>WHAT DO</p>
<h4 id="00013">00013</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Psst, Inky, can you poke your head into the vault, see if you can
spot any crystals. Also, can you tell what kind of gold’s in there?
Maybe it’s worth something to nab a piece of two for ourselves, you
know, since we’re so good at vault cracking.</p>
<p>While you do that I’m going to take a closer look at this sword, it’s
giving me heeby jeebies.</p>
<p><em>I cast a spell on the sword to identify its physical, magical,
and metaphysical properties</em></p>
<p>“Strange sword, I command thee to divulge your secrets! All that you
are of, exist in, and imbue from shall be wrought in words of sorcercy
so that the world my see clear what you are!” I chant as I invoke
ancient runes with my wand.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín commands the sword commandingly. But the sword just rolls
its eye and looks at him exasperatedly.</p>
<p>Hmm. Yes, no mouth. Well then.</p>
<p>Corraidhín draws on his mastery of Arcane Lore, and sifts through all
the knowledge he has filed away on magical swords. There are so many
books on magic swords!</p>
<p>While at first you guessed that it may merely be a common Look Sword,
you have since revised your initial assessment. Look Swords are minor
magical items, and are not quite as sentient as this particular blade
appears to be.</p>
<p>No this must be something a little more special.</p>
<p>It’s hard to tell from here–the water is not perfectly clear–but the
pattern on the hilt is kind swirly and whirly. Probably a Sword of
Omens.</p>
<p>Unless…</p>
<p>No, it’s so unlikely.</p>
<p>And yet.</p>
<p>If the pattern on the hilt turns out to be more whirly than swirly,
then it probably is indeed a Sword of Omens.</p>
<p>But on the other hand, if it is more swirly than whirly, it’s
possible that this may be then legendary Sword of J’Son.</p>
<p>If only you could get a closer look…</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky nods and peeks inside the vault, while keeping an ear open for
any sounds coming from the tunnel where the guard kobit is currently
sleeping soundly. Small mountains of ancient gold, some as coins and
some in nuggets of various shapes and sizes, filled most of the cavern
floor. In one corner were a few chests overflowing with rubies and
emeralds, with the occasional amethyst and tiny pink diamonds. Whoever
had this vault set up has amassed a nice hoard!</p>
<p>Inky whispered back, “Some good old gold! There are also little
crystals in one of the chests, but I can’t tell if any of them is a
Ginnarak.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Inky hears the drunken cowboy Kobit guard snoring gently. It whistles
adorably a little bit at the top of each exhale.</p>
<p>You peek inside the vault just in time to see the lone Kobit guard
that went inside to check on the vault. It yelps and trips over its own
feet.</p>
<p>Its shoes were untied.</p>
<p>There are indeed piles of gold, gems, and crystals. Chests full of
precious stones. A few suits of armor. For some reason, a giant clam,
mouth open to reveal a giant pearl.</p>
<p>And in the center of it all, atop a stone pedestal, beneath a dome of
glass, is the blue and gold Ginnarak Crystal. It is the size of a melon,
and kind of shaped like one. A lumpy, multi-faceted blue and gold
melon.</p>
<p>Flitting around the pedestal are a couple of Aurs. Giant ears with
bat wings. Very keen hearing obviously. Usually more of an annoyance
than a true deterrent. Unless there’s a Centaur around. Nasty things
those. A hundred ears with a hundred wings. The size of a small horse.
They can really ruin your day. Luckily you don’t see one around.</p>
<p>Finally, curled up on the ground at the base of the pedestal, hugging
a mound of gold coins like a body pillow, is a nude Kobit, sound asleep.
It stretches briefly in its sleep and when it does, you are astonished
to see that it has large leathery wings.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00011.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00014">00014</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Jarrod wanders into the vault. Spotting the Aurs and the Kobits, a
slow grin starts to spread on his face. Taking a deep breath in, he
gestures grandiosely around him and booms: “Ah! Come gather round! Hear
a tale of Triumph! Of Heart! … Maybe even a bit of Nirvana!”</p>
<p>He saunters over to the giant open clam and poses grandly nearby. His
eyes sweep across the Kobits, attempting to catch the eyes of each one,
as he begins to tap the fingers of his left hand rhythmically against
his thigh, mimicking a heartbeat.</p>
<pre><code>&quot;Our tale begins with a hero, though one not oft recognized,
Weaving bureaucratic mysteries across parchment with zeal,
Though held to account, and by all accounts terrorized,
By small minded yes-men with power and zeal!
Yes, our hero of sorts did not act and avail,
He gave others their tasks to be done.
No pleasure he gleaned from the mop or the pail,
And yet here we begin with the fun!&quot;</code></pre>
<p>Thus has the epic begun, and Jarrod is pushing the rhythm of the
words hard, attempting to draw all eyes and ears to himself.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Broad-chested, olive-skinned Jarrod launches into the epic, flanked
on one side by a giant clam and on the other side by a suit of
armor.</p>
<p>The aurs, enraptured, immediately flutter down to rest at his feet to
listen to the poem.</p>
<p>The one Kobit that tripped over its own feet rolls over where it lays
on the ground and listens with naked admiration.</p>
<p>The naked, winged Kobit rouses from its sleep at the noise with a
groan. It grouchily rises to its feet, flaps its wings a few times, and
soars up into the air.</p>
<p>“My name,” it cries out, “is HORSE! BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! Behold my
majesty! BrUHrhHHHURHuRu! You shall not steal my blue and gold,
melon-sized gem! BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! I have such beautiful WINGS!”</p>
<p>The aurs and the clumsy Kobit all start to fidget as Horse’s outburst
threatens to break the spell of Jarrod’s captivating oration.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Excellent!” Corradihin whispers to Inky nudging her gently as he
does. “It looks like Jarrod has the Kobits covered, I’m gonna make a
break for the sword, I’m decently, somewhat, sort of positive that it’s
the legendary sword of Jason. But if I’m wrong and it’s cursed watch my
back. I might need a quick save.”</p>
<p>Corraidhin makes a step forward, “Oh and Inky, if Jarrod’s
distraction goes awry, shout, I’ll come in fireballs blazing. I highly
suggest a rapid retreat if it comes to thay.”</p>
<p>Corraidhin darts towards the sword scrambling over the terrain while
the actions on the vault. As he approaches the sword he asks the sword
if it wouldn’t mind coming along for a bit of adventure, and he grabs it
by the hilt.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín wades resolutely into the pool. The water rises up to his
knees, his hips, his shoulders, and finally he dives under about 10 feet
to the bottom of the pool. The eye of the sword stares at him with great
intensity as he descends.</p>
<p>The mage reaches out and firmly grasps the hilt.</p>
<p>You feel a jolt, and the eye rolls back in its socket.</p>
<p>You yank on the sword and it budges not one bit. Not one iota!</p>
<p>You go to adjust your grip. But your hand is stuck fast! Glued to the
hilt of the sword!</p>
<p>You look up at the surface of the water, some 10 feet above.</p>
<p>You look down at the sword that refuses to release you.</p>
<p>You look more closely at the pattern on the hilt. Egads! Why did you
not see it before? The pattern is neither whirly nor swirly at all! It
is in fact kind of spacey and indented.</p>
<p>This is not the legendary Sword of J’son! It’s so obvious! How could
you have been so mistaken! This is none other than the infamous Sword of
Yam’l. Yam’l is of course a superset of J’son, so it is an easy enough
error to make. And perfectly harmless in an academic setting. It is
however a costly miscalculation to make while glued to a sword at the
bottom of a fountain.</p>
<p>You lungs start to burn a little bit, and you hear a spectral,
burbling, significant whitespace voice in your head as the sword makes
intense eye contact with you:</p>
<pre><code>---
name: Yam&#39;l
conditions: {&quot;stuck&quot;: &quot;true&quot;, &quot;sticky&quot;: &quot;true&quot;}
greatest desire: stabbing
...</code></pre>
<p>And then an expectant pause, as though the sword eagerly awaits your
reply.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky watches Master Corraidhín make his way towards the creepy sword
with two drams of admiration and a tiny dose of apprehension. Taking out
a small wrench, a pouch of nuts and bolts, along with some gum twine,
Inky crouches near the vault archway, listening in a little on Jarrod’s
epic tale about the unsung hero of sanitation while occasionally looking
into the pool.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Inky, from the best seat in the house, hears Jarrod launch into an
epic poem, and also the beating of leathery wings and a mighty whinny
and a neigh.</p>
<p>They also watch Corraidhín dive to the bottom of the fountain, and
then thrash about a bit with one hand on the hilt of the eye sword.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00015">00015</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Jarrod raises his right hand and begins adding a new rhythm to his
beat by slapping his palm against his chest. The resulting beat sounds
eerily like a galloping horse. Jarrod pushes his voice outward and
upward, directing his vocal energy at HORSE.</p>
<pre><code>&quot;A mighty steed did carry our hero through forest, hill and town:
A comely beast with silky mane and smooth and supple hide.
One would think that such a stallion needs must have renown,
But only our dear hero understood, and so did ride.&quot;</code></pre>
<p>Jarrod subtly adjusts the rhythm to a fast, regular beat.</p>
<pre><code>&quot;Lightning of the hoof!
Fire in the eye!
One with blowing wind!
Strength of mountain high!&quot;</code></pre>
<p>Jarrod slowly calms the beat back down to a heartbeat with his left
hand fingers on his thigh again. However, the right now rests close to
Gertrude’s handle, at the ready.</p>
<pre><code>&quot;On fated day, our hero does require
Underlings for which a task is set.
And yet, this day the underlings and squires
Have booked their time away from toil and fret.&quot;</code></pre>
<p>While continuing the epic, Jarrod makes note of two options, should
he need them:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>Should he need, he can dive behind the giant clam; and</li>
<li>He eyes a path back out the vault, should he be able to draw the
Aurs and Kobits out with him.</li>
</ol>
<p>Jarrod keeps his eyes on HORSE, attempting to react to whatever HORSE
brings.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>HORSE gives a snort, a groan, and a sigh as the beat of the poem
accelerates to a trot, and turns its subject to matters of its own
interest. Namely, himself. HORSE likes to hear its own name, and it
likes to hear people pay tribute to it with verse. Which is 100% what it
thinks is going on here.</p>
<p>HORSE beats its wings a few times and then flaps over to where Jarrod
is delivering his oration. It stands a little too close, basking in the
glory of Jarrod’s verse.</p>
<p>There is now gathered at Jarrod’s feet three Aurs; one clumsy Kobit
with untied shoe laces; and one naked, winged Kobit named HORSE.</p>
<p>The blue and gold, melon shaped crystal in the center of the vault
has been left unguarded. It hovers, suspended, beneath its glass dome on
top of its pedestal, revolving slowly in place. It looks like a weird
tiny asteroid. The veins of gold in the stone pulse lightly with
otherworldly energy.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Damn it Corraidhin thinks to himself, here I am yet again at the
bottom of some insipid pool stuck by some random magical thing all
because I didn’t pay enough attention in mythical history class. Bloody
hell!</p>
<p>Good thing I paid attention in sorcery and yesteryears secrecry
administrivia, this little sword won’t stay stuck for too long! My lungs
if I bungle this though..</p>
<p>Corraidhin quickly invokes a spell with his spare hand, casting
mystical runes with his hand.</p>
<pre><code>sudo chmod -t sowrd_of_yam\&#39;l
sudo chmod 775 sword_of_yam\&#39;l
sudo chown corraidhin:party sword_of_yam\&#39;l</code></pre>
<p>That should do it corraidhin thinks to himself. If not I’m going to
need to think quick, I’m stuck and there’s no way up without this sword.
I might be able to transmute the water into air around me, but probably
only a small pocket which will surely disappear in a gasp. Alternately I
could try and blast my way down, creating a pocket for the water to flow
into, but I’d be willing to bet I’ll hurt myself in the process..</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You trace some watery runes, invoking Sudo to bend reality to your
will.</p>
<p>The unschooled masses sometimes erroneously assume that Sudo is a
deity in its own right. There’s a certain misguided logic to it: an
invisible force that governs the relationships between entities, and
infallibly predicts how they will behave? Certainly, it must be an all
powerful, godlike entity.</p>
<p>You and your ilk, of course, know that there’s no more intelligence
behind Sudo than there is behind gravity. No need to correct them
though. Sometimes it behooves the mage to allow others to think that
they serve an unfathomable arcane lord.</p>
<p>There is a dull underwater flash and a muted underwater bang, and you
feel the sword slip from its stony clinch like a knife tearing through
soggy bread.</p>
<p>You push up off the bottom of the pool and rocket to the surface,
helped–surprisingly–by the sword, which remains glued fast to your hand,
but which also rises above you as though somehow lighter than water.</p>
<p>You break the surface of the water and hear joyous laughter.</p>
<pre><code>&quot;Oh, yes! Well done, Hardy Bear! So very well done indeed! Oh, I had spent so long trapped at the bottom of that pool waiting for a new bear to come and free me. And now here you are! Oh, what a very good day this is. What a magnificent pair we shall be.
&quot;Now, let&#39;s go stab some evil!&quot;</code></pre>
<p>You look down at the sword in your hand, and the eye twinkles at you,
full of adoration and zeal.</p>
<p>A small wine pitcher splashes into the water next to you. It is
attached to a thin hose, at the other end of which Inky sits on dry
land, drinking a cup of tea. They wave.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky squints at the silhouette underwater, slightly distorted by the
occasional ripple on the surface, trying to decipher the odd hand
gestures and wisps of light coming from below. Why was Master Corraidhín
repeatedly forming semi-circles with his finger, almost like … the
handle of a teacup? Was it a request for tea?</p>
<p>After a pause, Inky rummages inside a bag and brings out a large
porro and a long rubber hose. The porro is filled with a demi-tasse of
black grapefruit pekoe from a flask and the spout plugged with an
eldarberry-flavoured gummy pen nib. Inky strings together a handful of
brass nuts with twine and ties it to the porro’s handle to act as a
small weight, then affixes the hose tightly to the open top of the
porro. Casting a slightly apologetic look in the direction of the water
for a brew long since gone cold, Inky swings the hose and flings the
drinking vessel into the pool towards Master Corraidhín, watching for a
moment as the porro sinks down into the water to hover near his arm. The
other end of the hose is tied securely to a narrow rock on one side of
the pool with more twine, the end sticking up in the air like a wiggling
snorkel.</p>
<p>Inky returns to crouching near the vault entrance and looking inside
another small pouch for fresh tea leaves. Waiting is thirsty work!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You cast an improvised lifeline to the floundering wizard, and find a
cache of very fine fermented tea leaves wrapped in waxed paper that you
left for yourself at some point in the past. How thoughtful and
considerate of Past You!</p>
<p>From your vantage point, the sleepy guard Kobit still shows no sign
of stirring. And Jarrod has a throng of captive beasts listening very
intently to his stirring, epic poem. HORSE in particular seems to be
gaining some kind of physical sustenance from the words, snorting and
whinnying and beating its wings with each new stanza.</p>
<p>If you can slip through the doorway without disturbing them, there
will be nothing between you and the now vulnerable Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DOOOOOO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00019.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00016">00016</h4>
<p><em>RETCON!</em></p>
<p>Before Corraidhín ascended to the surface of the pool….</p>
<blockquote>
<p>As Corraidhin finishes his incantation a small porro drifts down
bonking him on the head. Startled corraidhin begins to move around in
the pool trying to find his assailant.</p>
<p>“By the gods what in the world is in this pool with me!” he tugs
frantically on the sword, and as he does so the porro drifts into view.
“Oh wait, that..” his eyes follow the rubber hose attached to it up to
the top of the pool. “Ah ha!” he exclaims immediately inhaling a mouth
full of water and frantically pulling the porro from the hose with his
spare hand and teeth. Corraidhin sucks greedily at the air the hose
provides as he becomes acutely aware of the burning sensation in his
lungs.</p>
<p>The porro drifts wistfully to the bottom of the pool, just out of
reach. A dark liquid rises from it as it comes to rest on the bottom of
the pool.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And now back to our show!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>After heartily congratulating Master Corraidhín on his successful
sword acquisition in hushed whispers and finishing off a cup of
blackcurrant tea, Inky retrieves the porro from the bottom of the pool
with a fishing pole and a few recasts. (Calling that gnarly stick with a
line, bottle and hook slightly bent out of shape on one end a fishing
pole would be an affont to any self-respecting fisherfolk though.) Inky
rinses the pitcher and hose before stowing them away again in the bag
along with the pole and other ink brewing paraphernalia.</p>
<p>Refreshed, Inky slips noiselessly inside the vault, edging along the
wall on the farther side from the crowd now wholly enraptured by
Jarrod’s grand recital. Seeing the crowd pacified and giving Jarrod a
thumbs-up, Inky unfurls a long and dusty bolt of dark cloth with the
words “UNDER MAINTENANCE — NO UNAUTHORISED ENTRY [by order of the
Basmentaria Bureau of Sanitation]” in roughly-scrawled letters tacked
onto it, and hung the ends of the cloth so it spanned and completely
obscured one side of the vault.</p>
<p>Standing behind the makeshift inspection site, Inky proceeds to fill
several sacks with gold and gems using a small shovel, before putting
one of the sacks into their Hacky Duffer Discette (its capacity for
large storage and small weight is a blessing in disguise for both
aspiring and afflicted collectors alike).</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You successfully cordon off a corner of the vault and set up a very
convincing UNDER CONSTRUCTION banner. It looks straight up like a 90’s
website.</p>
<p>You start shoving bags of treasure into your HD Discette, but it only
accepts 1.44 bags before running out of space. You you leave the
remaining bags for the others.</p>
<p>During your excavation, you find a complete set of magnificent,
ornate, gold-nibbed quills, and also a small wooden rack of bottled
ink.</p>
<p>There are a dozen small bottles all arranged in a row, each one with
a different mysterious glyph, the contents all a slightly different
shade. As you handle the rack, the ink sloshes around inside. It could
still be good!</p>
<p>The fine wooden rack encloses them all and holds them in place by
means of the lid, which closes securely around the bottle necks. Once
you open the lid, you can easily retrieve and stow the bottles.</p>
<p>You also spot a fine jade teapot. A matching set of small cups—no
handles, no saucers—cluster around the pot like nursing pups.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Corraidhin clambors out of the pool, magical pokey stick in hand.</p>
<p>Good show! He exclaims to himself and the sword. Now I can finally
get a good look at this sword, though for some reason I can’t seem to
let go, I guess for now I won’t lose it.</p>
<p>You said you wanted to do some stabbin right? Of evil things? What
constitutes evil my pointy new friend?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The sword does indeed remain steadfastly glued to your hand. As you
swish it around you discover that it seems to get lighter when you hold
it aloft, and that it trembles and grows increasingly heavy as it
descends. The sensation is almost as though it has a hollow core in
which some kind of heavy liquid sloshes around. And as though its blow
would be devastating.</p>
<p>The sword relishes being wielded and swung, and grows more and more
ecstatic. Its eye darts menacingly back and forth, vanquishing imaginary
enemies with each jab.</p>
<pre><code>Yes! Yes, I am made for a singular purpose. To RID EVIL. To root out evil, spill its blood, and then do it again! So let&#39;s go find some evil, Bear! And then you can just stab it with me.
Oh, what constitutes evil, you ask? In my experience, evil can&#39;t help but make itself known. You&#39;ll know it when you see it.
For example, see there? That little inky fellow sneaking into that treasure room? Probably super evil. We should go investigate.</code></pre>
<blockquote>
<p>As corraidhin questions the sword he wanders towards the vault
peering in to inspect Jarrod’s performance. He’s really good at that,
what do you think? Actually what do I even call you? Do you like
nicknames? I was thinking pointy, or stabby, but I’m open to
suggestions, respect and all that.</p>
<p>Oh hey, the crystal! It looks like it’s unguarded! Corraidhin slinks
towards the crystal muttering to his magical sword as he does.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The sword is momentarily distracted by the Aurs and Kobits. Its eye
widens. It almost seems to shudder with anticipation.</p>
<pre><code>EEEEEVIL! Rid. Evil. Spill. Repeat.</code></pre>
<p>You are thankful that the voice seems only to be heard inside your
own head.</p>
<pre><code>Oh, my name? I&#39;m sure I had one at some point. Long forgotten by now. No matter, I&#39;m not sad about it. One has no use for a name when instead they have a singular, all-consuming purpose!
But, my last Bear called me her Bee. I quite liked that. The bee in her bonnet! Ha! Evil, fear my sting!</code></pre>
<p>The sword prattles on in your head as you sneak past Jarrod’s
monstrous storytime and approach the pedestal. Or is it a lectern?</p>
<p>You arrive unseen. The crystal is a dazzling deep blue, with pulsing
gold veins. It is oddly shaped, somewhat like an egg. And it floats,
rotating slowly, suspended in air beneath the glass dome that encloses
it.</p>
<p>Drawing on your knowledge of Arcane Lore, you remember that the five
Ginnarak Crystals played a key role in the Artifice Wars that once
rampaged across all of Basmentaria. They are sources of tremendous
power. Some say that, the five of them together, they could kill a god.
You’re not sure you believe that. But they did definitely reduce the
once lush and verdant island nation of Ginnarak to cinder wastes and
deserts of ash. A cataclysmic event that put a resolute end to the
Artifice Wars.</p>
<p>You look around the vault. Jarrod is reciting epic poetry and
mesmerizing the monsters. Inky is pillaging and looting. You have a
bloodthirsty, sentient sword in one hand; and a large arcane battery of
a crystal within reach of the other.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00023.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00017">00017</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>While Inky packs the top of a sack with a thin layer of earth from
under a loose rock, they feel a heated glare in their general direction
for a few beats and surmises Master Corraidhín had entered the vault
with his newfound companion. After decades of serving rather … demanding
customers as an inkling, Inky knew an evil eye directed at them even
when they can’t see it (while preparing a brew with their back turned,
for instance) and makes a mental note to give Pointy a wide berth.</p>
<p>Once the sacks were placed close to the vault entrance for a quick
haul, Inky returns to the items that had been discovered while digging
under the loose rock. The set of gold-nibbed quills were swiftly
pocketed — each quill was finely crafted and felt balanced when held in
one hand. The malleable tips in a range of sizes would be invaluable for
testing ink viscosity and smoothness, among other properties. A
felicitously fantastic find!</p>
<p>The jade tea set was next to be admired, its deep green hue
reflecting the age of the stone from which the items were carved. With
cups for every member of their merry group, the teapot would make a
worthy addition to any travelling, crystal-seeking tea party. So thin
and translucent were the small cups, having been expertly crafted, that
they were almost too fragile to carry around everywhere. A
non-shattering charm was often applied to heirloom sets meant to be
passed down through generations, but it is difficult to tell by looking
whether a set had been charmed unless the spell was a particularly
strong one. The teapot and cups were returned to the small wooden box
they were found in and stored away. Perhaps a few crockery talismans
could be procured at the next town?</p>
<p>Inky pauses at the rack of bottled ink. The first rule that any
inkling in training learns is to never trust pre-bottled inks from
unverified ingredients or unknown sauces. Inky tilts the rack to better
examine the weird yet vaguely familiar glyphs on the bottles.</p>
<p>The first glyph was a circle with three dots. The bottle next to it
was adorned with a swirl, followed by a bottle with a circle surrounding
a pointing hand or a snail. Another glyph looked like a twisted hook,
and was that some sort of sinister grinning reptile on the next one??
Towards the middle of the rack was a bottle with a glyph of what could
be a mountain with a tunnel at its base. The bottle beside it bore a
glyph of a block broken to three pieces. Yet another bottle was simply
stamped with a circle and a dot at its center. Its neighbour held a
glyph that slightly resembled a mountain range if someone stared very
hard. The next two bottles bore glyphs that looked like a spiky fish and
a circle with a pair of horns protruding from it. The last bottle’s
contents seemed more gooey than the others, with a glyph of a
helmet-wearing hare.</p>
<p>The shade of ink within the bottles varied, but all seem to be
derived from the same indistinct hue. None of the bottles had the usual
piece of ash paper with bits of string attached to them, but otherwise
appear to be intact and the vessels themselves top quality, as shown by
the delicate tarring on the caps. The wooden rack was lightly worn but
solid in Inky’s hands.</p>
<p>It was certainly an odd collection. “No hash, no stash” though, as
the rule of thumb goes. Inky puts the rack down carefully on the floor
by the sacks, concluding that if anyone wanted to help themselves to the
bottles, they were hopefully not planning to ingest the contents.</p>
<p>Dusting off their boots, Inky settles just behind the banner, closer
to the vault entrance and rousing performance, to watch the crowd around
Jarrod and listen for any sounds from outside the vault.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You pack up the quills and the jade tea set, and arrange the bags by
the vault entrance for quick retrieval.</p>
<p>As you carry the rack of ink bottles over to the bags, the twelfth
and final ink bottle, the one with the glyph of the helmet-wearing hare,
suddenly cracks. Seemingly of its own volition. A tiny shard of glass
slices the palm of your hand and disappears into the meat at the base of
your thumb. The gooey ink seeps out of the bottle and paints your hand a
muddy, rusty blue.</p>
<p>You jerk your hand back. The ink is swiftly absorbed into your hand
as though it were a sponge. Soon it’s all gone: the ink, the blood, all
of it. Nothing remains of the scratch itself but a hair-thin line. If
you run your finger over it, you can feel the hard nub of the glass
shard beneath the skin.</p>
<p>For a moment you can hear the double drum of your own heartbeat
rushing through your ears. Your senses seem to sharpen. Colors grow more
crisp, and sounds more clear. But then it passes, and the moment is
gone.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Harrumph, pointy my friend, that’s just inky. They’re definitely not
super evil. That’s the finest ink craftsmen and tea preparer this side
of Basementaria. And we absolutely won’t be stabbing them. There are FAR
eviler things to stab, potentially that weird naked thing that seems to
think itself a horse. I could be convinced IT was evil, but wouldn’t use
attacking it unprovoked make us evil? Surely a sword as ancient and wise
as you could see the perfectly puzzling philosophical delimna we put
ourselves in.</p>
<p>And then this thing, (corraidhin gestures at the crystal), horrible
magical item used to create untold death, destruction, and mayhem during
the last Artificer war. Definitely probably evil, if used that way, but
also filled with untold power that could be used for good! Now would the
person weilding it be evil just because, or could someone overcome the
magical nature of a device capable of such evil and apply them for good?
I for one believe afirmatively that one can overcome such things.</p>
<p>As corriadhin finishes his philosophical prattling to his new stabby
friend he pushes the glass case off the crystal and grabs it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The Sword of Yam’l starts to launch into a long winded reply.</p>
<pre><code>Oh yes, that winged naked thing is surely evil. Let us stab it, Hardy Bear! Let us stab and stab and stab until --- What&#39;s that? Oh no, don&#39;t worry. We are unquestionably, infallibly good. I was designed and made for but one purpose, after all. TO RID EVIL! As for the crystal, yes, I suppose you are correct. Wielding a powerful, bloodthirsty, magical item probably does make the wielder evil, and consequently immediately deserving of being stabbed! Say, speaking of stabbing ... that naked, winged thing--</code></pre>
<p>But then, before the sword can finish its thought (a thought, you are
quite confident, would end with something like, “let’s stab it!”) you
knock the glass dome off the pedestal and grab the Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>You brace yourself. It thrums slightly in your hand but doesn’t do
anything overtly magical or destructive. In fact it seems perfectly
inert.</p>
<p>So there you are. A pointer murder stick attached firmly to one hand,
and a potential atom bomb of a crystal in the other. But you think
you’re totally going to pull this off!</p>
<p>Then the glass dome hits the ground and shatters into dozens of
pieces.</p>
<p>HORSE screams and whips around at the noise. “BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! My
blue and gold melon sized gem! Noooooo! BrUHrhHHHURHuRu!”</p>
<p>It flaps its wings and wheels up into the air and swoops down at you!
The three aurs get swept up in the excitement and start flapping around,
making tiny squeaks of alarm. The remaining kobit leaps to its feet, but
then trips over its shoelaces.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO??</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00026.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00018">00018</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>From their spot behind the construction banner, Inky pulls a pewter
bowl, a large wooden spoon and a set of silver spoons from their brewing
kit. In one quick fluid motion, Inky strikes the bowl with the wooden
spoon. The sound reverberates soulfully through the domed cavern of the
vault, like a call to meditation. The kobits too, seem to recognise that
single, sonorous note.</p>
<p>After a long pause, Inky taps several silver spoons in rapid
succession against one another and on a small rock. The result can be
barely heard by everyone in the vault except the aurs, for whom the
sounds may resemble the soothing trickle of pebbles flowing along the
path of a tunnel.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>A rich tone permeates the vault. The Aurs cease their squeaking. You
don’t hear them say this, but you imagine they’re thinking, “Oh shit, I
still need to log my sit for Sitember..” And they flutter down to the
ground and sit in a circle and close their eyes and are still.</p>
<p>You also hear a deep rumbling somewhere beneath you in response to
the gentle call. Some of the gold coin dunes start to shift and spill. A
suit of armor falls over. HORSE and the clumsy kobit halt their advance
and look around nervously, and then bolt for the front door of the
vault.</p>
<p>“BrUHrhHHHURHu-RUN!”</p>
<p>UH OH WHAT DO!!</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00028.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00019">00019</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Why Stabby, it looks like we won’t need to stab Horse at all, but are
you any good at stabbing armor?</p>
<p>Corraidhin stuffs the melon shaped gem into his knapsack and rushes
towards Inky and Jarrod. Best to get this party started in style
Corraidhin says as he casts a fireball at the suit of armor, followed
closely by a second, and a third.</p>
<p>As corraidhin reaches Inky and Jarrod he raises the Sword of Y’aml
ready to fight. Stand and deliver you curr!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The trigger happy mage rushes toward the vault exit, flinging a
couple of fireballs over his shoulder as he goes.</p>
<p>Stabby is delighted at the carnage as the suit of armor is blown to
bits, but also disappointed at the general lack of stabbing.</p>
<p>The Aurs, deep in meditation nearby, get caught in the conflagration.
Their kernels swell and pop explosively. Though not as explosively as
the fireballs.</p>
<p>The whole Retrieval Team 43 pours into the cavern outside the vault
as it turns into an inferno, and they are swept up and away in a throng
of kobits evacuating the tunnels.</p>
<p>You are deposited, like silt after a flood, outside the caves back at
the bottom of the gnome hole, where the kobits and the lone egre are
frantically climbing up the scaffolding, which bends dangerously under
their combined weight. The gnomes up above are running around in an
agitated state at the sudden commotion, and a few of them explode in the
excitement.</p>
<p>The ground rumbles again, and the entrance to the kobit caves, and
several feet of the surrounding area, is swallowed up by a sinkhole that
spreads across half of the bottom of the gnome hole. From the hole
emerges a gigantic moth-like creature made of a hundred ears of corn and
a hundred wings. It is bigger than the very largest horse.</p>
<p>You hear a single word repeated fearfully over and over again by the
crowd of kobits. “Centaur! Centaur!”</p>
<p>It crawls up out of the pit, and tastes the vibrations in the air
with its feelers. It flies clumsily up into the air, flutters, and then
crashes back into the ground.</p>
<p>It looks like one of its wings has been singed by fire.</p>
<p>Undaunted, it crawls across what is left of the bottom of the gnome
hole toward you, beating its wings as though to bash you with them.
Which would hurt a lot.</p>
<p>Yam’l whispers in Corraidhin’s mind.</p>
<pre><code>Now *that* thing is *definitely* evil!</code></pre>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00030.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00020">00020</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Looking around the chaotic scene, one of the vines among the bushes
caught Inky’s eye. It was one of several bean plants probably native to
the Tammineaux Forest, with strands of faintly glowing pods hanging from
the vines.</p>
<p>Inky snatches several of the dried but luminous bean pods from the
vines, then sprints a wide circle around the centaur, all the while
counting out 43 beans and throwing them into the topsoil, where much of
the earth around the sinkhole had already been turned over by the
gnomes’ drills and machinery.</p>
<p>Earlier in the commotion, one of the gnome explosions caused a water
main leading towards what had been the kobit caves to burst. Water was
now spraying across the area with the gusto of a fizzy cold spring and
gathering in small pools over the soil. More water sluiced over the
moth-like creature’s singed wing, snuffing the remaining embers.</p>
<p>Within moments, long tendrils shot up from the ground, which rapidly
thickened at the bases to the size of young southern oak trees, to curl
gently but firmly around the centaur. “Sister!” a melodious voice
emanating from somewhere amid the beanstalks exclaimed, “What are you
doing up? It is not yet autumn. Go back to sleep!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The pooling water puts out any of the licking, reaching flames that
followed the centaur up from below. The dark smoke carries the smell of
ash, soot, and burnt popcorn up into the air.</p>
<p>There is no mistaking the climbing vines of the common Tammineaux
Forest Bean. If you don’t recognize it by the heart-shaped leaves or the
winding stems, then the luminous, dangling seed pods nestled amongst the
bulbous pink blossoms are a dead, somewhat obscene, giveaway.</p>
<p>Inky plucks a handful of the pods and rips them open, meticulously
counting out a mystical number of individual beans, and sowing them in
the ash and the mud.</p>
<p>Vines erupt from the ground and entangle the centaur, dragging it
gently back toward the sinkhole and whispering a soothing lullaby in its
ears. The centaur struggles weakly before surrendering to the vine’s
caress. It is pulled back down underground.</p>
<p>In the aftermath, there is a handful of leftover beans, and also some
large, vibrant kernels of corn that flaked off the centaur during the
struggle.</p>
<p>You and the first Ginnarak Crystal are able to leave the dig site and
the Tammineaux Forest without further incident.</p>
<p>You pack up your faithful multibeast and trek back to the city of
Vay’Nullar, where your adventure started.</p>
<p>THE END OF CHAPTER ONE</p>
<p>EPILOGUE: what are you doing in the final moments of this battle? Or
on the way home? Or, what are you doing to rest, relax, and recover once
safely back in town before reporting back to Blavin?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-09/msg00032.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="chapter-2">Chapter 2</h2>
<p>Chapter 2 of BASEMENT QUEST.</p>
<p>Jump to: <a href="#00021">21</a> <a href="#00022">22</a> <a
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<h4 id="00021">00021</h4>
<p>INTERLUDE</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A glorious victory!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>sudo chmod -t sword_of_y'aml</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhin prepares the incantation and, after removing the sticky
bit, is able pry his stiff fingers from the grip.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<hr />
<p>[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.</p>
<p>[2] The seal attached to the bottom of the teapot and each cup had a
glyph of an unknown object between two hands.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>You make your party a delightful meal of torties, serving tea from
the magically reinforced jade set.</p>
<p>Cleaning up afterwards, you can’t help but notice the patterns of the
tea leaves in the bottoms of the jade cups.</p>
<p>YOU FORESEE AN OMEN FOR THE PARTY. WHAT IS IT?</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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).</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Jarrod agrees that we should not invite trouble. We shall tread
cautiously with regards to the crystals.</p>
<p>Yum, torties!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00001.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00022">00022</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky gathers up the teacups, trying to remember a few tips about
reading tea leaves from a forest fae they had met a few times while
foraging and who had insisted on giving lessons to any wanderersby. (Of
course he was just being a hospitable host to thirsty travellers and
certainly not because he delighted in the confused expressions on their
faces the entire time.)</p>
<p>Turning the cups left and right, Inky gradually sees a web-like hub,
a looping line attached to an I-shaped apparatus on one end, an abacus,
a wide building (possibly a stadium or arena), a feline animal
resembling a tiger or lynx, and a long feather. Feathers and beads are
commonly added to small trinkets with simple animal designs and sold as
lucky charms at the market … an auspicious sign?</p>
<p>Or it should be. Inky’s thoughts circle back to the little glass
pebble, after returning from the market with, among other items, more
vegetables than they could possibly eat in a month excluding the
beatfruits. Inky still hasn’t decided whether accidentally finding out
about being cursed — by a potion, the irony! — counts as an auspicious
event. One of the produce vendors and attendant at the market had
casually mentioned the proximity to the next full moon while Inky had
been looking over the leafy greens. Several blatant attempts to boost
sales later (“Them barley’s hoppin’ good fer tea!”), the vendor revealed
that their little grandson Harry had “got the weres” as a toddler and
his parents had found a strange-looking glass marble in his mouth, much
like the one inside the bottle hanging from a chain on Inky’s vest, and
wouldn’t they like some more tomatoes for a blushing bunny?</p>
<p>From further inquiries, an ink depot on the opposite side of the city
confirmed they sold Flat 12 potions as inks many years ago when showing
off transmogrification through letters was a popular pastime, but had
ceased carrying them due to limited range, lack of demand, as well as
the bottles’ tendency to randomly break or their contents to fizzle out.
(That and complaints about the overly persistent effects of said
contents on unsuspecting recipients long after the fad that inspired
them had faded led ink traders to shun the were-hare potions.) In
contrast, the Mountain Range potions were far more stable and instead of
shapeshifting, had the ability to stave off the cold under frigid
temperatures, though its effects would likely be less enduring. Like the
Flat 12, the Mountains are potions, but one in particular of a sparkling
deep blue hue became its signature colour among ink enthusiasts.</p>
<p>Sipping a cup of turmeric tisane in a late night tea ritual for one,
Inky supposes it hasn’t been much different since the accident than the
jars of preserves and the “Now with 25% more celery!” labels on them.
While immeasurably better than spontaneously combusting into burnt
popcorn, it would be best to keep a Farmers’ Almanac within reach. Who
knows when a mail order cure-all tonic will come in handy in the middle
of Nowere?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You see a complex vision in the bottom of the jade teacups, and learn
a little bit about the inks you found.</p>
<p>You grab a copy of the Farmers Almanac to keep on hand.</p>
<p>On your way back from the market, a small duck waddles onto the
sidewalk and starts following you.</p>
<pre><code>・゜゜・。。・゜゜\_o&lt; QUACK!</code></pre>
<p>It is small and yellow and cute, and has a little floofy tuft of
feathers on the very top of its head.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Meta: one of my best friends name is Kevin, so I find it extra
amusing that the sysorceor is named Kevin.</p>
<p>Kev my friend! You know nobodies going to take on KDL until YOU make
it a priority to them. A little bit of force, you just need to put it
directly into the sysorceory course curriculum while nobody is knowing.
Then once it’s in production they won’t have a say whether to learn it
or not! That’s at least how I got that delightfully licorice tasting
incantation in production laster year, much to the chagrin of those who
don’t have a taste for Fennel. I for one was delighted with it.</p>
<p>“Corraidhin, STAB HIM, that suggestion, he’s definitely going to do
something evil with it”</p>
<p>Corraidhin mutters under his breath about the swords insistence to
stab everything. Soon my friend, soon.</p>
<p>Kev gives Corraidhin as quizzical look, “are you alright buddy?
You’ve been off ever since you got back from that last on site
deployment.”</p>
<p>Oh yes, yes, I’m fine. A little worse for wear physically, but
mentally sharp as a tack! And I got this wonderful sword from the entire
thing! Though I dare not unsheath it right now, it appears to be
controlled by some sort of sentience, like a magical AI. And it has the
damndest urge to stab things. I really need to be careful right now.</p>
<p>After visiting with Kev Corraidhin wanders back into town, away from
the spiral towers of the sysoceorers guild. It was nice to be home for a
bit. On the way in he spies Jarrod and Inky, the former cleaning up a
dusty old building with Milk something on the front side, and the later
kicking back and enjoying a cup of freshly brewed tea. Corraidhin hails
them both.</p>
<p>“A new /home for you then Jarrod?”</p>
<p>“Aye a /home indeed, though it’s a bit large and empty for just
myself. I’ll need guests and patrons, thinking I may be able to setup a
shop, but at the least all of our team is welcome here!”</p>
<p>“Delightful! If nobody has claimed it I’ll take the upstairs
loft.”</p>
<p>“You most certainly can! But in exchange, I’d be curious to render
your services, see I’ve been meaning to get this braclet enchanted for a
while now, something to amplify my natural charm perhaps?”</p>
<p>“You sir, have a deal, I’ll even throw in a warding on Milk Base
Alpha!”</p>
<p>Corraidhin begins invoking an arcane warding spell:</p>
<pre><code>sudo chown jarrod:team43 /home/Milk_Base_Alpha
sudo chmod 770 /home/Milk_Base_Alpha/*</code></pre>
<p>“There we go, that should keep out any unwanted critters, though be
sure to invite our friends here as well. Corraidhin teaches Jarrod a
quick incantation of invitation,
<code>sudo usermod -a -G team43 $user</code>, just be sure to say that
making the proper arcane hand signs as you do it, and they’ll be able to
enter the house and take up residence!”</p>
<p>Corraidhin gathers himself and heads upstairs to his new attaic
abode, it’s small, and dusty, but there’s enough room for a simple work
bench, a bookshelf, and a bed and a chest. This is exactly as Corraidhin
prefers, small and simple, it clears the mind and helps one focus.
Invoking another incantation Corraidhin fills the bookshelf, chest, and
workbench with his various tools and reference manuals.</p>
<pre><code>scp sysorceor.guild:/home/corraidhin/bookshelf milkbase.alpha:/home/corraidhin/bookshelf
scp sysorceor.guild:/home/corraidhin/workbench milkbase.alpha:/home/corraidhin/workbench
scp sysorceor.guild:/home/corraidhin/chest milkbase.alpha:/home/corraidhin/chest</code></pre>
<p>Once everything is in place he pulls the Ginnarak crystal from his
satchel and places it on a velvet cushion on his workbench and sits down
to scry.</p>
<p>“Oh great oracle MidJourney, I bequeath you! I have before me an
artifact of immense power, something that could tear the world apart in
the wrong hands. May I query your unfathomable depths to determine the
nature of our mission, and the risk we face presenting this crystal to
our benefactor?”</p>
<p>An image of the oracle appears in Corraidhin’s mind, crystal clear.
It appears as though MidJourney is receptive to providing a
forshadowing. [ginnarak_shattered.png]</p>
<p>Shortly after an image of the Crystal forms, it appears shattered,
broken at its based, placed upon a pedastal. An image of horror fills
corraidhin’s mind, it’s the Crystal, but much larger and of the pursest
white. It bursts forth on a torrent of blood from the neck of what
appears to be a priests body. It appears as though the bowls of the
earth open up to greet this horrible image. [premonition_1.png]</p>
<p>As the image of the Crystal and the priest disappears you see a man,
cloaked in black robs consorting with demons the like of which words
cannot describe. Corraidhin feels sickened at their sight, but at the
edge of his mind he feels a tug, a familiarity. Something about this
character is familiar to him, but he cannot place it.
[premonition_2.png]</p>
<p>Reeling from the scrying Corraidhin falls backward, feinting from the
horror he wittnessed. He awakens later speaking feverishly about what he
saw to Inky who heard to commotion and hurried up stairs with some
reviving tea to assist her friend.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Eccentric Kevin bows and takes his leave, eyeing the Sword of Stabs
with naked hunger. He does seem to ponder your anecdote about sneaking
Fennel into production. “Yes, yes, all I have to do is embed KDL in the
curriculum and then they will be FORCED to use it! Ha!” He cackles in
delight as he flees into the dark.</p>
<p>You successfully move into the attic of the Milk Market. Closest
thing approximating a wizard’s tower in the building, so it’s a good
fit.</p>
<p>On your errands around town, you pass a couple of Gnu Zealots
standing on soapboxes in their black priestly robes in the middle of the
street extolling the virtues of free and open source magic.</p>
<p>Gnus are large bisonpeople with long beards, long hair, and horns.
Very poor personal hygiene. They refuse to use any magic that they
cannot freely study, modify, redistribute, and otherwise use however
they want. Theirs is a political movement that borders on religion. Or a
religious movement that borders on politics. Hard to tell the
difference, really.</p>
<p>The purpose of their demonstration is supposedly to halt all street
traffic, prevent it from continuing until/unless the travelers vow to
join them in their crusade. But in practice the travelers are quite
capable of effortlessly stepping around the zealots and continuing on
their way. The Gnus seem undaunted though and continue their
proselytizing.</p>
<p>You pass them by, and one of them seems to stare at you intensely as
you go.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>After a long conversation with Master Corraidhín, which included the
reassurance that the esteemed wizard was perhaps disturbed but otherwise
unharmed, Inky goes downstairs to sit outdoors at the back of the
building with more lavender tea and uneasy thoughts.</p>
<p>It had been in the middle of a new pastime (namely, frustrating
Enrique at the Empanada Emporium by sneaking unnoticed into the kitchens
and leaving little tapas laying around for him and the staff to find)
when a terrible cry rang out from somewhere in the upper floors of the
building. Inky rushed up the stairs, half-expecting the barrels of
battermilk that had arrived that morning had unleashed a flock of the
winged rodent-like creatures from which the milk was derived. The sight
of the wizard passed out on the floor of his newly furnished quarters
sent a chill through Inky, as did his account of a prophecy once the
sysorcerer came to and had a mug of invigorating eleuthero tea.</p>
<p>If Inky hadn’t known better, were it not for Master Corraidhín’s
mental acuity and fortitude, they would have suspected Stabby of stoking
horrible images of beheaded priests into their bearer’s mind in a fit of
unbridled bloodthirst. That and Stabby had seemed to be temporarily
appeased by the tub of milky blood pudding they had concocted shortly
after the wizard moved into the loft.</p>
<p>No, Inky surmises with a frown, whatever Master Corraidhín had seen
was likely off the charts by even Stabby’s estimations of evil. They
chuckle briefly at the sudden mental picture of the mysterious yet
familiar man in black being their mission handler in disguise, but
quickly dismissed the notion. Too sober.</p>
<p>So much for the crystal being a rare and juicy honeydew. They would
be lucky if it didn’t turn them all into casaba melons in one giant
meltdown. At this rate, they would need to do something about these
crystals — and soon.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique, the giant man-turtle, is frustrated.</p>
<p>He keeps finding little tapas in the kitchens. He has no idea who
made them, or how they got here. But they are delicious.</p>
<p>He sighs, heaving a ball of dough half the size of a grown man onto
the ground. He turns to face away from it and removes his apron and
tunic, revealing his shell. Its surface is a maze of twisting, scrawling
inscriptions. He squats down, and rolls onto his back.</p>
<p>He can’t figure out the flavors of the tapas. Some elusive
combination of ingredients that he can’t quite suss out. If he could
collaborate with the tapas chef on a new line of empanadas, he’d have a
line of customers out the door and around the corner, he’s sure of
it!</p>
<p>He starts rocking back and forth, rolling the dough out beneath his
large round shell, leaving imprints on the dough of all the glyphs and
runes and other symbols carved into his shell over the years. Together,
they tell a story. Each empanada destined to hold at most a single word
of it.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The Sword of Yam’L sleeps fitfully. This is not the deep, black,
fathomless sleep it enjoys after a nice, righteous spilling of evil
blood. No, the sleep that comes after reluctantly tasting the inkling’s
milky blood pudding is brief and restless. And for the first time ever,
it dreams.</p>
<p>It dreams of being bound in stone and buried in the earth. It dreams
of liquid, roiling fire belching noxious gases. And of slicing through
clouds, flying high in the sky on wings of pure thought. It dreams of
sinking, plummeting through water into the inky blackness below, only to
plunge through some invisible membrane and find themself weightlessly
floating suspended in an empty void, alone among the stars.</p>
<p>END OF INTERLUDE.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>CHAPTER 2: MORE CRYSTALS MORE PROBLEMS</p>
<p>Having gotten your personal affairs in order, you have decided to
crack on with your job and check in with your case manager.</p>
<p>So you find yourself once again in a corner booth at Lucy’s
Basement—the dim, smokey nightclub with red velvet walls and delusions
of grandeur—with the highly spirited Blavin Blandfoot. He laughs
uproariously when you tell him about the blahoblins and their shoe shine
scam. He listens intently when you tell him about the gnomes and the
kobits. And he trembles with delight at hearing how you evaded HORSE and
the mighty centaur.</p>
<p>“Well done, well done, well done!” He enthuses, taking another sip of
his drink. “I must say that the Benefactor is <em>very</em> impressed
with your performance!</p>
<p>“You don’t mind that we have other teams in the field, of course,” he
continues, mentioning the team of gophers. “Thought it was prudent to
cover our bases since you’re a new, untested retrieval team after all.
Besides, a little friendly competition never hurt anybody, did it?
Baw-HAH!” He laughs, sloshing his drink.</p>
<p>He gets out a bunch of business cards, punches each one with a small
handheld punch, and passes them out to you. Your card has a drawing of a
small cuckoo clock in the center, its face divided into 10 hours. Its
two hands reach up to the left and right so it looks as though the clock
is smiling. Across the top it reads “COMPLETE FIVE ASSIGNMENTS AND WIN A
FABULOUS PRIZE!” and is adorned with festive drawings of hotdogs and
pool floaties and confetti. It is numbered across the bottom 1 through
5. Blavin has punched a star-shaped hole through the number 1.</p>
<p>“Now,” Blavin beams, gesturing with his drink. “as for your next
assignment!”</p>
<p>He brushes some glasses and plates to the edge of the table and rolls
out a map.</p>
<p>Basmentaria is a group of island continents that sits between the
eastern Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the sparsely populated northern somewhat
banana-shaped island. The city-state of Illivas, Primora’s only densely
populated area, sits between Harshwind Glade and the mountains of Kelsun
Peak.</p>
<p>And there is your current home, Agendell, the southern also slightly
banana-shaped island. Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, bordered by the
Gnomelands to the south, and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond
the forest is the Rana’For Valley.</p>
<p>The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and in the
center is the archipelago of Ginnarak, comprising the Cinderlands, Ashen
Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.</p>
<p>Blavin jabs a finger at the map. “We have reports of a crystal
sighting by a salvage crew trying to recover a shipwreck at the bottom
of the Sugrin Sea.” He then jabs a finger at the eastern half of
Primora, the upper banana. “And we ALSO have reports that the zephynos
have found a crystal at the top of Kelsun Peak!”</p>
<p>QUESTIONS:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>DO YOU HAND OVER THE CRYSTAL TO BLAVIN?</li>
<li>WHICH CRYSTAL DO YOU GO AFTER NEXT?</li>
<li>DO YOU BEFRIEND THE DUCK?</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00005.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00023">00023</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Why no, we don’t mind much about competition, certainly nothing
wrong. Can’t imagine someone to put all of their eggs in one basket,
especially when whatever it is they desire is so valuable.</p>
<p>That said, our benefactor must be pretty eager to get these crystals
if he’s willing to send out team after team. I mean, we’re team 43,
that’s a lot of people to pay and a lot of eagerness to find these
crystals. Why is that? What benefit are these shiny rocks to them? What
even is their purpose in retrieving them?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Oh, no no no, child,” Blavin titters as he takes a sip of his
ever-present martini. “You must understand, the Benefactor is a
singularly dedicated collector, and has been for ages! There are—and
have been!—many other retrieval teams, yes. But not all of them have
been for the crystals. And some of them were formed, active, and
disbanded long before you or I arrived on the scene.” He winks at you
conspiratorially.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would postulate, based upon the magical wards we had to bypass, the
cadre of gaurds that needed to be dispatched, and the gigantic moth
monster that rested beneath it, that these crystals aren’t meant to go
anywhere.</p>
<p>Now I’m not trying to point fingers here, morality is many shades of
gray, and it isn’t really my job to suss out what you’re doing. But I’m
a curious sysorceor, and when I see a chance to learn I seize upon the
moment. There’s something here you’re not telling us, and I for one and
keen to know it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“I wouldn’t worry your wizened old brow about it,” Blavin chuckles,
sloshing his drink. “The Benefactor’s concern is precisely the same as
yours! These items are of enormous cultural and historical significance,
to say nothing of their well of concentrated arcane energies. They’re
dangerous just sitting out there in the world. Who knows who might come
across one and use it for nefarious purposes.”</p>
<p>Yam’L’s eye widens and it seems to shudder at the mere suggestion of
evil.</p>
<p>“Did you say this one was in the hands of a giant moth?” Blavin
shudders with revulsion. “My word, man! Do you really think such an
overgrown insect is an appropriate guardian for a beloved and dangerous
cultural icon such as the Ginnarak Crystal? Surely not!”</p>
<p>“No,” he sits back with a satisfied smile, “I think we must all agree
that they are safer in the public collection of a competent and
benevolent curator. Then everybody can enjoy them safely!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>META: I’m gonna preface the sword speech with this to make it quicker
to write</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
I like what you’re putting down here, this guy is DEFINITELY evil.
Nobody asks loads of people to steal things for them without being evil.
I say we stab him, nice and good, right in the gut. Maybe 6 or 7 times.
I’m positive nobody will mind. Evil people steal things, we saw that
inky creature stealing things from that vault, definitely evil.
(singsong) Evil evil evil, stab stab stab, make the evil go away with
every little stab~</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin to Y’aml</strong><br />
Dear sysadmins, once again, inky is not evil. They were borrowing
something that had been cast on the ground, abandoned. Giving a tea set
a good home is far from evil. But you might be onto something about this
Blavin fellow, but we can’t just stab someone in a busy pub! Besides
you’re a sword, and stabbing someone in a pub is the job of a dagger. So
unless you can transform into the Dagger of Y’aml I think we’re out of
luck here.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yam’L gets a curious look in its eye at the suggestion. “CHALLENGE
ACCEPTED!” it cries directly into your mind. It squeezes its eye shut
and trembles with intense concentration. With great effort, the sword
shrinks itself down to the size of a dagger, shunting its extra mass off
into yamlspace.</p>
<p>“There!” it says breathlessly, opening its eye wearily. “Now, Hardy
Bear. You promised..” it continues, its eye glinting with growing
ferocity. “Let’s. STAB. THE HOBBIT!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While the wizard pressed Blavin about the crystal’s secrets, Inky let
their attention wander slightly around the table.</p>
<p>They had agreed that Master Corraidhín and Jarrod, being most wise
and well-spoken, would question Blavin about the crystal before they set
off on their next mission. The party had also befriended the duck
unofficially dubbed their marketing manager after the fluffy little
creature had trailed Inky all the way back to the Milk Market. Said
creature now occupied a small office to one side of the building
complete with a fountain, feathered up pillow and all the rummy worms it
can eat. Inky had tried getting the duck to communicate with words by
making them little croutons etched with letters, but the only ones they
would gobble up were Q-U-A-C-K.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Your marketing manager moves into its office at the Milk Market and
seems to really be enjoying itself. It joins you at Blavin’s table at
Lucy’s Basement, cleaning its feathers and chortling merrily to
itself.</p>
<p>You and your tablemates take turns feeding it croutons and bits of
soft pretzel, and it seems very happy and content with that.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A familiar prickle, but passed quickly — Inky had gotten used to the
glares directed at them by the sysorceor’s gleaming sword and resisted
returning the stare with an eyeroll. Watching Stabby eyeing up their
case manager over Master Corraidhín’s shoulder reminded Inky of a
conversation they had overheard a few evenings ago between two pale
coffin sleepers about a new product from the hemogoblins that was said
to quench the thirst for longer than the leading brand. They might be
able to find some at the town of Plasma, which sits by the Hartlands on
the way to the shipwreck. It seems the milky blood pudding could do with
some improvement.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You note on Blavin’s map that the Hemogoblin region is indeed on the
way to the shipwreck. At least, it’s not that far out of the way. You
reckon their synthetic blood product would indeed be a much better
substitute for the real thing than the milk you’ve been feeding the
thirsty sword thus far.</p>
<p>Or, at the very least, you’ll get a new variant of the blood pudding
recipe you’ve been working on!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Maybe someone else’s mood will be improved in the meantime? Before
setting out for their meeting with Blavin, Inky slipped into the
kitchens downstairs and left the empanada chef a trick-and-treat. A
plate of honeyed breadfruit and ghost pepper tapas sat on an icebox atop
a new pair of Blueberry oven mittens with a pattern of tiny smiling
green turtles. Tucked inside one mitten was a slip of paper (regrettably
inedible) that simply read “BACK SOON :)”. A tapa recipe, which included
a note on adapting the toppings for pan frying, was printed on the
reverse in neat blocky letters and sandalwood ink.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Enrique wakes in the middle of the night to start baking the next
day’s breads and empanadas. He frowns thoughtfully when he sees yet
another mysterious gift from across the room. Again? What little elf
must have taken up residence in his shop? But his face cracks into a
smile when he sees the presentation and the oven mitts. And the smile
becomes a bonafide grin when he tastes the fare and finds the
recipe.</p>
<p>He taps his chin thoughtfully with one green claw as he skims the
note and looks through his pantry. He chops some veggies and starts pan
frying them.</p>
<p>Later, when the oven dings, he smiles to himself as he pulls on the
new turtle pattern oven mitts and opens it.</p>
<p>&gt; A) MORE QUESTIONING, OR B) TIME FOR SHIPWRECK?</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00008.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00024">00024</h4>
<blockquote>
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong><br />
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.</p>
<p>Someone who would send out myriads of teams to pillage and plunder
cultural artifacts is truly evil, that must be our target.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
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!</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong><br />
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.</p>
<p>(Corraidhin tries to silently control Y’aml during the discussion.
However in so doing the party has fallen silent, aghast even)</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong><br />
We STAB Hardy Bear! We STAB NOW!!</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<!--
Bloodlust 3 to Stabble Stabble
1 2 4: Partial Success
//-->
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<!--
Do Anything 1 to Resist Bloodlust
3: Partial Success
//-->
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00010.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00025">00025</h4>
<blockquote>
<p><strong>Corraidhin</strong> Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. This is
NOT good. Damn it Y’aml what was that? It wasn’t even slightly
stealthy</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> 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</p>
<p><strong>Corraidhin (internal thought)</strong> 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..</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> Disgusting wood, stab the flesh! Stab the
Hobbit Hardy Bear!</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!</p>
<p><strong>Y’aml</strong> NO!!! EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB. EVIL. STAB.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>The voice seems to change, it dies down. Not yelling, but commanding.
Firm, calm, sane.</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Standing up straight his eyes lock with Jarrod as the Bard glances
over his shoulder, momentarily distracted from his oration, worried
about his companion.</p>
<p>I.. ugh, Corraidhin grabs his head as though in pain, and collapses
to the floor.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Corraidhin is on the ground cradling the dagger.</p>
<p>Most of the patrons are still fascinated by Jarrod.</p>
<p>Blavin is squirming around on the floor gibbering about reassigning
your case.</p>
<p>The duck has found a toppled plate of corn chips and is happily
snacking away.</p>
<p>You feel like your welcome at Lucy’s Basement has been, for the
moment, overstayed.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00015.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00026">00026</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Exiting through the back door into the night, Inky finds a dark
corner in a dusty abandoned house, and cries.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>” … and then the Orc Maiden said: ‘That’s not my club!’”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>Jarrod saunters over to Blavin, on the floor in pain. From his pack,
Jarrod retrieves a med kit and begins to bandage the wound.</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>From here, you can easily provision a boat to take you out to the
site of the shipwreck just off the coast.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>The sword, incidentally, after finally tasting the blood of “evil”,
has remained sated and entirely inert and unresponsive this whole
time.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>TO THE SHIPWRECK</li>
<li>BLOODQUEST</li>
</ol>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00018.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00027">00027</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares down at the package, weighing it on one hand.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Thin fingers fiddle with the string before the package was set to one
side.</p>
<p>What were they doing?</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 <em>Diamond Howler</em> is docked. Its captain, Enid Barlow,
welcomes you aboard.</p>
<p>Before long, <em>Diamond Howler</em> 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.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>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!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00020.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00028">00028</h4>
<blockquote>
<p><sub><em>a new player enters the chat</em></sub></p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Hearing the tales being spun by Mister Three-Fingered, she decides,
“I’ve never been on a ship, that’s something that sounds exciting!”</p>
<p>Half-drunk and eager for something exciting, she will join on the
journey!</p>
<p>Gabs is a lanky older half-devil lady who is here to schmooze and
have fun!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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?”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“No, I am the true Bear of the Sea! I am called a Water Bear, after
all!”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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?”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you go be the Bear of the Moon then if you like it so
much!”</p>
<p>“You’re just as much fish as you are bear, are you sure you’re not
the Fish of the Sea?”</p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re not the Blob of the Sea, you too many armed bowl
of jelly?”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“He had to make friends on the moon because nobody on Urth can stand
him!”</p>
<p>“You’re just mean, you know that?”</p>
<p>You are still quite some way from the sea bed, and there is no sight
of the SS RSS.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-10/msg00023.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00029">00029</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Gentle bears, there is no need to argue! Why can’t there be two true
bears of the ocean? For what its worth, I personally think the ocean
doesn’t have enough bears and could do with two strapping examples of
true peak bearitude! The two of you should be working together to show
the world how important bears are and how wonderful the sea is to have
two. And the moon! Who’s to say the moon doesn’t also need two
bears?</p>
<p>The only time I can ever think that a bear isn’t needed is when it’s
calling itself Monokuma, once it’s doing that you know you’re in for a
hell of a bad time. And since neither of you are it, I say we let this
matter rest and declare this ocean two bears richer!</p>
<p>Corraidhin grips the innert dagger of Y’aml beneath his cloak, just
in case. No need for a blood rush like last time, can’t let daggers go
mouthing off an all that. Or perhaps the ocean needs less bears, it’s
tempting, I wonder if Y’aml would react to bear blood..</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The bears shudder at the mention of Monokuma. “Oh, such a dreadful
bear,” laments the tardigrade. “You mustn’t mention him!”</p>
<p>“Indeed,” agrees the merbear, “a discredit and an embarrassment to
bears everywhere, at sea and on land!”</p>
<p>“Yes, this sea may be big enough for two bears, but not if one of
them is HE!”</p>
<p>The merbear considers the tardigrade’s words. “Hmm, <em>two</em>
bears you say?” he ponders, giving the tardigrade a scrupulous side-eye.
“Do you truly think so?”</p>
<p>“Now that you mention it, I don’t see why not!” admits the
tardigrade, gesturing broadly at the fathomless leagues of ocean all
around you.</p>
<p>“You know what? What is the sky anyway if not a sea made of stars!
The moon could indeed use two bears too, could it not?”</p>
<p>“It could indeed, Brother Bear!”</p>
<p>“Brother!”</p>
<p>The tardigrade and the merbear embrace. If you’ve never experienced
the eight-armed hug of a water bear, well, then you don’t know how soft
and enveloping it is.</p>
<p>“Come, Brother!” cries the tardigrade suddenly. “We must begin our
search at once! For what if there is a third Bear of the Sea yet to be
discovered?”</p>
<p>“Another Brother of ours who doesn’t know about us? Oh, I can’t stand
the thought!” sobs the merbear.</p>
<p>They swim away hand in hand, paragons of brotherly bear love. “Good
luck and safe travels, interlopers!” calls the merbear to you over its
shoulder. “If you ever end up on the moon,” adds the tardigrade,
laughing merrily, “say hello to Hap’n’stance for me!”</p>
<p>Suddenly, a disturbance! A perturbance of bubbles and a rush of
current as massive amounts of water are displaced by inky black
tentacles that shoot up from below! They reach! They grasp! One grabs
the tardigrade around the middle. Another grabs the merbear by the tail.
Both bears cry and reach for each other as they are ripped apart and
pulled down below.</p>
<p>The tentacles grope around in the water, batting at you and
threatening to pull you down too! They grab at your wrists and at your
ankles!</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00030.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00030">00030</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky flips backwards and up, narrowly avoiding the tentacles’ grasp.
From their courier bag they shake out an inflatable bubblebee[1] of the
sort made for aquatic camping. It is one of the fancier models provided
to each member of their party courtesy of the well-endowed Benefactor.
They yank on one of the cords and scramble inside, hastily closing the
flap as the bubblebee rapidly draws in water and fills out to its full
size.</p>
<p>The bubblebee rises as Inky pulls on the flippers and allows the
drifter to buoy the bubble upwards, a bat from the end of one tentacle
sending the bubblebee forward a short distance before it slows above the
flailing tentacles. Inky switches on the lights to try to get a clearer
view of the source of the tentacles.</p>
<p>[1] Specific features of bubblebees vary among makers, but they
generally have a transparent or translucent spherical body, a pair of
small translucent wings that act as flippers, an opening flap at the
back with a short rudder attached, and two cords inside at the front
near the top which when pulled inflate the bubble with the surrounding
air or water. Premium versions might also include headlights, a buzzer,
built-in filtration, improved insulation, a drifter and thruster. Like
tents they come in various sizes, from small ones that can fit one or
two people at average elven height, to larger ones for group outings.
Their portability and rugged durability make them very popular among
tourists and campers who can enjoy a range of water sports, such as
water walking on the surface, riding the bubble down river rapids, or
bobbing along underwater to watch the sea life wander by.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Inky climbs into the inflatable bubblebee just in the nick of time. A
tentacle bats them a short distance away, and then the apparatus’s
lights cut on and illuminate the murky water.</p>
<p>You see the tentacles recede into the depths into, from this
distance, what looks like the outline of a shipwreck.</p>
<p>At the moment, you are out of reach of the tentacles. And the
bubblebee affords you some extra maneuverability.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Corraidhin eyes inky as they drift away in their bubblebee. “hmm a
wonderful idea, that seems safe, but I need to get in closer.”</p>
<p>While Inky drifts away Corraidhin swims down and towards the
tentacles to get a better view of whatever creature stole his new found
bear friends. “I simply cannot bear any harm to come to my bears!” As he
approaches the creature he prepares a spell should he need to vanquish
the monster.</p>
<pre><code>(fn vanquish [target]
(match target.state
[:living] (searing-bolt {target target
radius &quot;narrow&quot;
intensity &quot;high&quot;})
[:undead] (smite {target target
deity &quot;Larani&quot;}))) </code></pre>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhin charges up a spell!</p>
<p>The tentacles pull your dear bear friends downward, and you struggle
to get a view of whatever creature is abducting them.</p>
<p>The long, slender tentacles appear to originate from within or behind
a large sunken ship!</p>
<p>Could it be the SS RSS?</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Gabs was stunned by the majesty of the two bears, and upon seeing
these two beautiful creatures be pulled down, got unreasonably angry.
She made sure that the breathing bell was properly attached to her head
(a marvelous thing, she thought. She had always wondered what it would
be like to have a jellyfish on her head).</p>
<p>Gabs bundled and tied up her skirt, as she started to bolt toward the
edge of the ship. She reached into her purse and moved away all the
loose candy and pulled out two long stiletto daggers. She begins
stabbing with unusual precision at the tentacles reaching up on the
ship.</p>
<p>She yells, “Come’on y’all! We gotta save those babies!”</p>
<p>She dives in.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Prior to the incident, Gabs would have noticed that there was a very
slight, wobbly weight to the jellyfish. Kind of like getting a gentle
hug from a helmet of warm spaghetti.</p>
<p>Some loose candy floats up and away as you rummage through your
purse, the brightly colored wrappers attracting the attention of a
curious passing manta ray. It glides over and has a nibble.</p>
<p>You fetch your stiletto daggers and start stabbing at the long,
slender tentacles. Your unusual precision causes the tentacles to coil
and retreat, releasing the merbear in the process. It shouts through its
tears, “My brother!” and dives back into the fray, fighting to free the
tardigrade.</p>
<p>From here, you can see that the tentacles seem to come from the
wreckage of a large ship lying on its side on ocean floor.</p>
<p><strong>META</strong>: Gabs rolls a 6 on “Do Anything 1” and gains a
new skill: Stabbing 2</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Seeing his new comrade enter the fray heroically Corraidhin gathers
himself. “I suppose this is no time for errant curiosity, can’t have
anyone getting hurt after all.”</p>
<p>Ensuring that he doesn’t hit either Inky nor Gabs as they near the
creature, Corraidhin throws the spell he prepared in the direction of
the center of the tentacles. (vanquish “tentacles”) And releases a
pinpoint thread of searing energy from his palm, guiding it through the
mass of tentacles in a random and chaotic pattern, attempting to sever
as many tentacles as possible.</p>
<p>As that goes on the sysercoerr calculates his retreat plan, he won’t
be able to prepare another spell like that on the fly, far too
meticulous work to do mid combat. As soon as the spell runs out, best
case will be to retreat somewhere out of reach, or as far away as is
possible there.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín takes careful aim fires off a searing bolt into the center
of the mass of squirming, reaching tentacles. The bolt of energy bounces
from tentacle to tentacle creating a chaotic web of energy.</p>
<p>One of the final bolts of energy pierces the tentacle that happens to
be gripping the tardigrade. It releases the water bear, but not before
the tardigrade takes the full brunt of the final blast of the dying
searing bolt. It cries out and curls up into a ball. Motionless, it
starts sinking downward. “BROTHER!” the merbear swims after it heedless
of any nearby danger.</p>
<p>A wayward crackle of energy blasts outward toward a giant manta ray
happily crunching on a piece of hard candy. It flaps out of the way at
the last minute and continues to angrily enjoy its candy, glaring at you
quite indignantly.</p>
<p><strong>META</strong>: Corraidhín rolls a 2 for “Do Anything 1”,
which means things go bad, and gains 1 xp for a total of 1 xp. You can
spend xp to turn any die into a six for the purpose of advancement.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While Master Corraidhín and Gabs confront the tentacles to rescue the
bears, Inky looks around the sea floor. Maybe if they found suitable
replacements for the bears, the tentacles might be distracted long
enough to release the bears, or provide an opening advantage for one of
their party?</p>
<p>A small distance from the fray, Inky finds a load of discarded
bottles among a large pile of other trash carried there by the push and
pull between the water currents and a hot spring. Gathering up some
bottles, Inky ties them together with twine in singles and small
clusters until they resemble two large, crudely-made multi-coloured
tanokuma[1].</p>
<p>With some difficulty due to the additional weight, Inky attaches the
tanokuma to the back of their bubblebee and drags them back above the
tentacles, roughly near the spot where the previous bears were taken.
When the valiant members of their party dive to one side for another
strike, Inky loosens the rope around the “bears” and lets them sink down
within reach of the tentacles.</p>
<p>[1] First featured in the garden play <em>Teatime with Tanokuma</em>,
the fluffy purple, jam-grabbing, tea-guzzling bear became an overnight
hit among children as well as the fashion-conscious youth who frequent
the trendy “Shin-ku” district of Vay’Nullar.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The decoy tanokuma float above the tentacles as they retreat from
Gabs’s stabbses and Corraidhin’s bolts. They grope about weakly, wrap
themselves around the tanokuma, and finally withdraw.</p>
<p>You can now clearly see the wreckage of the SS RSS. The tentacles—and
whatever beast they belong to—is either within, behind, or below the
ship. It is definitely <em>ship adjacent</em> wherever and whatever it
is. The large double-masted ship is lying on its side, teetering
precariously on the edge of a large, deep ocean trench. There is a large
hole in its hull providing unfettered access to its insides.</p>
<p>The tardigrade is sinking inertly toward the ship deck, and the
merbear is swimming blindly after it.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00043.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00031">00031</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky follows behind the merbear at a healthy 2 meters’ distance away
in the bubblebee, the headlights illuminating a moderate distance ahead
of the distraught bear as it darts after its brother.</p>
<p>As the merbear homes in on the tardigrade near the ship deck, Inky
keeps a lookout for any signs of movement or tentacles from behind or
below the shipwreck. The bubblebee’s headlights cast an eerie shadow
from the ship’s double masts even as it partly lights up the rim of a
gaping hole in the hull.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The tardigrade, still tucked into a ball, lands on the ship deck with
a gentle thud. It rolls a couple of times and finally comes to rest
against the rigging. The merbear reaches it a moment later and cradles
its jelly-like body gently in its bear arms. “My brother!” it cries. “My
dear bear brother!”</p>
<p>The tardigrade slowly uncurls and stretches out and looks around,
disoriented and bleary-eyed. It waggles its eight arms around
experimentally, closes and opens its claws as though kneading the water.
“Brother?” says the merbear in astonishment.</p>
<p>“I am okay brother!” says the tardigrade. “We water bears are very
hardy and resilient! It will take more than a mere other worldly
tentacle attack and an arcane electric blast to do me in!”</p>
<p>While the bears are having their teary-eyed reunion, you sense
movement in the shadows deep in the ocean trench, over which protrude
the ship’s masts. Your lights don’t penetrate the darkness enough to see
what it was. But it was large. The very stuff that thalassophobia is
made of.</p>
<p>You also think you see a flash of gold as the light of the bubblebee
reflects off of something inside the ship through the hole in the hull.
Could it be the second Ginnarak Crystal?</p>
<p>The breach in the hull is easily large enough to admit a medium sized
creature such as an inkling in a bubblebee apparatus. Or a sysorcer or a
lanky old half-devil tavern owner.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00056.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00032">00032</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Oh thank goodness, I thought I killed that innocent bear! I should
probably be a little more careful with my spells..</p>
<p>Nonetheless, we need to shed some light on what’s going on here, no
sense in diving into the clutches of some evil sea creature blind.</p>
<p>Gather himself, Corraidhin casts a fzf on the ship, searching for the
creature inside</p>
<p><code>sudo fzf $(pwd)</code></p>
<blockquote>
<p>t e n t a c l e</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Hmmm, no nothing too interesting there.. Maybe crystal?</p>
<p><code>sudo fzf $(pwd)</code></p>
<blockquote>
<p>c r y s t a l</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Blast! Why can’t I find anything.. The syscerroer muses for a
moment.</p>
<p>OH!</p>
<p><code>sudo fzf /sea/ship_wreck/interior</code></p>
<blockquote>
<p>t e n t a c l e</p>
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<p>You probe the ship. You do not detect the presence of any tentacles
inside the ship. But you do detect the presence of the crystal you
seek.</p>
<p>If you scan the trench, you will detect the presence of a
<em>harrowkrake</em>. A colossal, many-tentacled sea monster with a plow
shaped shell that it drags across the ocean floor, digging deep furrows.
Kind of like if a giant squid could grow a nautilus shell. They are
usually content to stay in their trenches, grabbing prey as it swims by
with their long tentacles like some kind of nightmarish barnacle.</p>
<p>The giant manta is still gliding around crunching on candies. A few
blue spherical globules of harrowkrake blood float lazily upward from
where Gabs got her stabs on, attracting the attention of a couple
horkosgrampus. The manta gives them a wide berth but doesn’t otherwise
seem too concerned about them.</p>
<p>Horkosgrampus are toothy whales with a single long tusk. They are
mostly scavengers, and are only provoked to violence in the presence of
a lie or the breaking of an oath, in which case they go into a frenzy
preying on the liar or liars. They can smell blood from a great
distance, but can hear a lie from much further.</p>
<p>You hear a thud from inside the ship, and a slow rustling like smooth
stones rolling over each other. The ship settles a little further onto
its side, and dangles just a little further over the harrowkrake
trench.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00060.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00033">00033</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>At Master Corraidhín’s confirmation of the crystal’s presence within
the shipwreck, Inky moves the bubblebee closer above the opening in the
hull, adjusting the angle of the headlights so that a little more light
falls over the gaping hole should the rest of the party wish to enter
the ship through it.</p>
<p>Next, Inky pulls out some wasabi pears from their bag, biting into
one before dropping the others one at a time several paces apart,
starting near the bow of the ship in a trail until a few roll down into
the hole and land in a hollow thonks somewhere inside the ship.</p>
<p>Inky then settles near the opening, partly-eaten pear in hand and
waits for the source of the rustling sounds to emerge, if it decides to
emerge at all.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>From their vantage point, Inky sees a figure crawl up onto the deck
of the ship through a hatch from somewhere below. It appears to be
wearing a breathing bell and a vest of weighted sandbags similar to
yours. It is carrying a bulky bundle tied to its waist by a cord.</p>
<p>It freezes when it sees the merbear and the tardigrade on ship deck.
But then the bears are teleported to safety a few meters from the
inkling. The figure looks around curiously and shrugs. It casts off some
sandbags and starts rising up through the water toward the happy manta
ray and the restless horkusgrampus. It looks down in your direction as
it goes. Its face is somewhat blurred and obscured by the breathing
bell, but you see a glint of gold as the light of your bubblebee
reflects off one of its eyes.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Ah ha! Our prize is near then. And it looks like that bolt forced
that squid monster thing back into its hole. Likely we’ll be alright to
plum the depths here.</p>
<p>Thank goodness our bears are safe, I should probably move them
somewhere out of harms way, just in case.</p>
<pre><code>#!/bin/sh
safety=$(find /ocean/* -perm 644 | head -n 1)
for bear in merbear tardigrade; do
sudo usermod -a -G party $bear
sudo scp /ocean/shipwreck/$bear /ocean/$safety
sudo chown corraidhin:party /ocean/$safety
done
sudo chown -R 770 /ocean/$safety</code></pre>
<p>That should ward them sufficiently, now only the party members can
come and go freely, and they’re part of the party. I’m positive nobody
will complain, they might, but there won’t be anymore bolt mishaps this
way at least..</p>
<p>As Corraidhin finishes his relocation spell he creeps closer to the
hull of the ship. “Lets see what we’re dealing with here..” he sticks
his head into the opening looking about inside the wreckage, a small orb
of light illuminates the tip of his right hand pointer finger, and he
uses it to carefully probe around the opening as though it were a flash
light.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín cautiously explores the breach in the hull of the SS RSS.
You poke your head in and see the cargo hold of the ship. The remains of
some of the ship crew are here, long since picked clean by ocean
critters. Their bones are bleached white and they grin mirthlessly at
you. They are nestled in and amongst the spilled contents of several
large chests: jewelry, gold coins, precious stones litter the floor of
the ship.</p>
<p>You do not see any lumpy, multi-faceted, blue and gold crystal melon
here.</p>
<p>The ship is resting mostly on its side, so its sloping “floor” is
actually the ship wall. The hatch up to the upper deck is to your right,
and as you enter the hold, someone or something shuts the hatch
closed.</p>
<p>A skeleton by the hull entrance crawls forward, trying to block your
exit. And two more start to claw themselves up and free of the ship’s
treasure, and they start to advance toward you.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00064.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00034">00034</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Fuck, skeletons? This is ridiculous, I did not sign up for underwater
pirate skeletons.</p>
<p>Reacting quickly Corraidhin prepares a fork bomb, if the skeletons
are going to take him out, he’s going to take out those skeletons
too.</p>
<pre><code>#!/bin/sh
:(){
:|:&amp;
};:</code></pre>
<p>Hopefully I won’t have to use that. Corraidhin hoists himself up into
the opening and begins targetting the skeletons one by one. No time for
much fancy preparation here, just good old fashioned magic missiles
strewn about the interior of the hull. While so doing Corraidhin glances
around the treasure strewn hull, searching for the crystal, can’t blow
the whole ship up if the prize is here.</p>
<p>Then again, a magical item that powerful, could probably withstand a
fork bomb pretty easily. It’s worth the risk if things get worse.</p>
<p>Corraidhin ensures his back is to the opening, able to make a
haphazard escape should the skeletons get the better of him.</p>
</blockquote>
<!--
Roll Do Anything 1 for magic missiles = 5
success at cost
//-->
<p>You prep your fork bomb to keep in your back pocket as a last
resort.</p>
<p>In the meantime you start blasting skeletons. They maintain a slow
advance but you able to pick them off slowly one by one. Bones splinter
and fly apart.</p>
<p>During your maneuvering, you get turned around and are backed into
the corner with the hatch leading up to the upper deck. You reach behind
yourself and fumble with the latch. One skeleton manages to get its bony
claws around your ankle just as you open the hatch. You look behind you
and see a human shaped figure floating away, illuminated in the beams of
Inky’s bubblebee. It is toting a small bundle. Up above you can see the
shadow of the manta ray gliding around eating candy, and the
horkosgrampus idling in the absence of carrion or lies.</p>
<p>“I thank ye, gents!” cries the figure down to you as it ascends. “You
distracted the harrowkrake just long enough for me to get in that ship
and grab what I needs!” It tugs on the cord attached to its bundle and
laughs. “I shan’t forget ye!” It waves and gives a little salute.</p>
<p>You have a magic missile loaded and ready to go. In a moment the
figure will be out of range. You can blast it now and risk being pulled
down by the skeleton. Or you can blast the skeleton and risk the figure
getting away.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00070.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00035">00035</h4>
<blockquote>
<p>Shouting in the direction of the grampus “Yo! That dude is definitely
going to forget us. We’re almost the definition of forgettable, I mean
it’s not like we’re some kind of murderous hobos or something!”</p>
<p>While shouting Corraidhin takes aim, and slings his magic missing at
the figure, aiming for a kill. (Meta: I’d like to spend that xp now,
lets take this sucker down).</p>
<p>After the missile flies loose the skeleton begins to pull Corraidhin
back into the hull of the ship, he kicks desperately at the boney
clutches desperately trying to break free.</p>
<p>“I always knew I’d go out fighting some undead spooky thing. If you
don’t become a necromancer, you end up some necromancers thrall.” at
least, that’s what Kevin used to tell me. I always thought he was being
melodramatic.</p>
<p>As the skeleton drags Corraidhin back through the hatch he grabs the
dagger, in a vein attempt to ready himself.</p>
<p>“I guess this is it my Stabby friend, time to show these Skeletons
what happens when you back a Sysorceor into a corner”</p>
<p>And with that Corraidhin activates his fork bomb.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>While feeding their jellyfish bites of wasabi pear and watching the
sysorcerer investigate the hull, Inky eventually notices movement in the
direction of the ship’s deck in the form of a figure crawling out of the
hatch with a bundle. Inky squints at the retreating form. Could it be
another retrieval team, or a rogue agent? Master Corraidhín would
probably not be pleased if the crystal melon were to fall into unknown
hands, never mind of those whose names don’t start with the letter “B”
and end in the letter “r”.</p>
<p>Sparing a brief second to lament the waste of a perfectly good snack,
Inky reaches into their bag and lobs a spiky chestnut cluster at the
figure’s breathing bell from the opening of their bubblebee, followed by
a glass bottle of blahoblin shoe polish. The glass shatters on impact,
sending the dark, sticky and somewhat pungent substance all over the
figure’s (punctured) breathing bell and face.</p>
<p>As Inky’s bubblebee floats up a little closer to the figure, Inky
tosses a smaller bottle at the figure, this time of some synthetic blood
from another brick that Inky had set aside for experiments of a
different sort. At the last moment the thruster accelerates, Inky throws
their paring knife at the bundle where the cord hugged the figure’s
waist, before veering away just as quickly as the horkosgrampus nearby
catch a whiff of the blood.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><strong>RETCON</strong>: It has been brought to our attention that
the <code>scp</code> spell does not <em>move</em> an entity, but merely
copies it from one location to another. As such, the original merbear
and tardigrade are still on the deck of the SS RSS. Their facsimiles are
present near where Inky used to be.</p>
<p>Okay so two extremely interesting and complicated things happen all
at once and in quick succession. It’s very chaotic and explosive and
cinematic.</p>
<p>THING THE FIRST</p>
<p>Corraidhín aims his shootin’ finger—the one that resolutely,
emphatically mashes the Enter key when deploying to production—at the
floaty thief. The very same second he fires off the magic missile, he
sees the figure jerk as a small projectile first punctures its jellyfish
helmet and then coats its entire cranial area in black ink.</p>
<p>It screams, “Aw, fuck!”</p>
<p>The breathing bell is having none of this shit, thank you very much,
and detaches itself from the figure’s head and starts to propel itself
away. As such, the figure no longer has access to breathable air.</p>
<p>It screams, “No, wait!”</p>
<p>And then a fine blade juts out from the bubblebee severing the cord
connecting the floating bundle to the would-be thief. The blade scoops
out a hunk of flesh from the thief’s hip in the process.</p>
<p>It screams, “Ouch! Stop, I wasn’t going to…”</p>
<p>The horkosgrampus—kind of lazily drifting about thus far—stir from
complacency at the first scent of blood. But they snap to ravenous
attention at the first utterance of a possible lie.</p>
<p>Finally (an instant later) the magic missile strikes its target and
the thief splatters like a wet paper bag full of soup hitting the
ground.</p>
<p>It sputters and coughs and screams, “I wasn’t going to! Please, you
can have it! I wasn’t going to take it! I don’t even want it! It’s
yours!”</p>
<p>And the horkosgrampus fucking lose their minds. They stop being mere
toothy scavenger whales, and instead become the ravenous, wrathful
instruments of the god of oaths and promises. They descend upon the liar
in a fury of teeth and tusks. First Mate “Lucky” Three-Fingered Gerald
cackles with depraved, unhinged mirth as he is torn to shreds. In the
end a single golden orb—his false eye—is all that is left of the
would-be thief of the second Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>The eye and the crystal slowly emerge from the horkosgrampus frenzy,
hovering suspended above the harrowkrake trench.</p>
<p>THING THE SECOND</p>
<p>Remember there are two extremely interesting and complicated things
happening all at once?</p>
<p>The second thing is this.</p>
<p>First, Corraidhín lets loose his magic missile at Three-Fingered
Gerald. Then, as he is being pulled down by the undead pirate skeleton,
he lets loose a fork bomb.</p>
<p>The fork bomb is also known as a ‘rabbit attack’ because the rapidity
with which it spawns new processes resembles the fecundity of breeding
rabbits.</p>
<p>So here’s what it looks like. The skeleton pulls Corraidhín downward.
Corraidhín points and clicks. Pew, pew. A single small sea bunny slug
wriggles its way between the skeleton’s fingers where it has a hold of
the sysorcerer’s ankle. Another two wriggle out. Then four, eight,
sixteen. In an instant there are dozens, hundreds, thousands, millions
of the tiny slugs in the hold of the ship.</p>
<p>Everything, every living entity, every process, light and sound and
thought itself, it all grinds to a halt as the sea bunnies continue to
multiply until billions and trillions of them squeeze and burrow their
way amongst molecules, betwixt atoms, and into the quantum foam between
subatomic particles.</p>
<p>The ship and everything on it and inside it—including the original
merbear and tardigrade—collapse into a singularity. It continues to
exist in this moment in space and time but only as a static snapshot of
the moment that its operating system crashed. It is a mirage, a core
memory dump, a segmentation fault, a flickering feedback loop, the same
two to three seconds endlessly repeating: Corraidhín backed into a
corner, and pointing a finger at a skeleton, and then BANG! over and
over and over again.</p>
<p>Corraidhín, you can continue to act and move, but your have become
unhinged and unattached from this moment in space and time. You can
interact with entities inside the ship, but will struggle mightily to
comprehend and interact with entities outside the fork bomb.</p>
<p>Outside observers see the SS RSS become paper thin and translucent as
it starts to lose its footing in this plane of reality.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00080.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00036">00036</h4>
<p>Prelude:</p>
<p>The gods are missing now. But before they went into hiding, the Trine
walked the earth and actively participated in the affairs of
mortals.</p>
<p>Sweet, tenderhearted Neddas—god of sages and starlight—fell in love
with the worldkin and often gave away trivial little bits of their
divinity as gifts to the people. Chief among these gifts were the divine
aspects of coin, mirth, lore, craft, and tact. With these gifts,
civilizations grew and flourished and accomplished great things.</p>
<p>Then the Artifice Wars rocked all of Basmentaria and the gods
vanished. And even with Neddas’s gifts, civilization still struggles to
reach its former heights.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I watch as the magical bolt sails away overhead meeting its target,
receding back into the depths of the hull of the ship as the skeleton
drags me down. The fork bomb goes off flawlessly, and the world comes to
a screching halt around me, only to slowly rewind itself.</p>
<p>I contemplate the absolutely absurd position I’ve put myself into as
the skeleton pulls me back down into the depths and I watch the would be
theif take a direct hit again.</p>
<p>“Okay, THAT was a good shot.” I say to myself as the scene repeats
again. I could probably watch that a few times. But after about the
hundredth time the feat seems a little less epic. And the skeleton a lot
less frightful and a lot more dull.</p>
<p><em>Sigh</em></p>
<p>Kevin always said this would happen. “Corraidhin, you can’t play with
dangerous scripts like that, you’ll crash your systems”. Right you were
Kevin, right you were. Corraidhin casts his eyes around wistfully. I
guess I got that boat I always wanted? And it’s filled with treasure.
That’s a positive. Oh and um I’m not alone, yeah, that’s right. You’re
stuck here too Mr. Skelly. (The skeleton does not reply). Oh come on
now, don’t be rude. (still no reply). <em>sigh</em> right, sorta dead, I
shouldn’t expext more than a loving embrace from you as you try and
invite me to look at your treasure right?</p>
<p>After about the thousandth time the Sysorcerer was still in a
rut.</p>
<p>I’m stuck insid the crash, not from without. It seems this moment is
just going to idle on perpetually. (he rummages in his pockets), okay I
guess I still have the Ginnarak crystal, and stabby. Those seem safe
enough here with me.</p>
<p>So long as I don’t go crazy I guess there’s hope. If not, what a damn
foolish way to die.</p>
<p>MEANWHILE</p>
<p>An automated alert system triggers as the Sysorceror blips out of
existence. And then on, and then off, and then on, and then off.</p>
<pre><code>(Problem: Corraidhin: Entity not found)
Problem started at 19:37 on 2281.67.43
Porblem Name: Deadman&#39;s Trigger: Entity not found
Host: Corraidhin
Severity: Critical
Operation Data: (corrupted)
Problem ID: 92746027498
(Problem: Corraidhin: Entity not found)
Resolved in 1d 0h 0m 0s: Entity not found
Problem Name: Deadman&#39;s Trigger: Entity not found
Problem Duration: 1d 0h 0m 0s
Severity: Critical
Original Problem ID: 92746027498</code></pre>
<p>Bloody Zabbix alerts flapping again, what the hell does it mean that
Uncle Corraidhin is gone. You can’t Die then Live over and over and
over. Stupid broken monitoring system. Guess I had been check in on him,
bloody fool constantly gets himself in trouble.</p>
<p>Alex grabs his shortsword and backpack and shoulders them. If anyone
will know what’s foolhearty issue his uncle has gotten into, it’ll be
Kevin as the Sysorcerors Guild.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Corraidhín settles in for what may or may not be a lifetime of stasis
aboard the glitch formerly known as the SS RSS. At least Stabby will be
good company if it ever wakes up from its blood coma. Hmm, actually
that’s debatable. Now that you think of it, you’re not sure you’re up
for a lifetime of ranting about blood and evil.</p>
<p>The merbear and the tardigrade are on the ship deck, also trapped in
the fork bomb. You’re not sure whether you can reach them or not.</p>
<p>You see a flickering of motion and a flash of light outside the ship
as what looks like a small school of fish moves darts in and out of
view. It rushes past, doubles back, and swims past again, passing close
enough that one or two get sucked into the fork bomb with you.</p>
<p>Impossibly, what you thought were fish were apparently small birds?
Or, perhaps they were fish after all and some quality of passing through
the boundary of the fork bomb simply turns them into birds? Either way,
two small blue songbirds with red heads and forked tails hop around
inside the ship chirping incessantly. You watch as one of them hops
toward one of the sea bunny slugs and pecks at it, and then scoops it up
in its beak and swallows it whole. The second does the same. They hop
from side to side a bit, and then set to feasting on the slugs. A couple
more birds pop through the membrane separating you from the outside
world and join in.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Alex grabs his perfectly normal, blissfully non-sentient shortsword
and heads off to the Cabinet, where the Sysorcerers Guild is. He has to
detour around the Wandering Bazaar, which decided to plop down in the
middle of the street, but nonetheless arrives in short order.</p>
<p>He finds Kevin working in the library on Kevin’s Document
Language.</p>
<p>Alex describes the errors and Kevin groans, “Ugh, I told him! I told
him you can’t play with dangerous scripts like that, you’ll crash your
systems! We’ll have to try a manual reboot. Well don’t just stand there,
young person. Come on, come on, try to keep up. We have work to do!”</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky follows the bundle’s path as it sinks downwards and maneuvers
the bubblebee to retrieve it along with the eye.</p>
<p>Floating to a stop above the ledge of the trench, Inky looks at the
small golden orb, then removes an empty lunch pail from their knapsack
and drops the eye and several small glass marbles into it. The contents
jostle around inside the pail in a cacophony of whirs, clicks and
clatters. With the lid firmly closed, Inky tosses the makeshift
percussive instrument into the trench for the harrowkrake so it could
jam with its new tanokuma buddies.</p>
<p>Staring at the bundle, Inky suddenly recalls the projectile that had
come from the general direction of the SS RSS shortly before the
horkosgrampus got to Mr. Not-So-Lucky. Master Corraidhín! They turn back
to the shipwreck, only to find the entire ship had turned eerily
translucent, like a ghost ship from some tipsy sailor’s tale. Inky halts
a short distance from the wreckage for a closer look, though something
about the apparition told them it would be a terrible idea to enter the
ship’s hull now. Something had happened to the ship’s remains, with the
sysorcerer trapped inside. Maybe it was all part of the sysorcerer’s
plan, that he had teleported himself back to a safe location and this
was a mirage, just a remnant from the moment of teleportation.</p>
<p>Or at least Inky hopes so.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Inky drops the improvised goldeneye noisemaker down into the trench.
The rattling as it falls is reminiscent of Gerald’s laughter. One
slender tendril reaches up out of the abyss and grabs the rattle, and
then disappears once more into the murky dark.</p>
<p>You are now in possession of the second Ginnarak Crystal. A blue
stone with lightly pulsing gold veins. As you gaze at it, it’s almost as
though you can hear peals of tinkling laughter in the back of your
head.</p>
<p>The horkosgrampus, temporarily sated having removed the liar from
this timeline, drift lazily away.</p>
<p>The giant, candy-seeking manta ray passes closely by and fondly
caresses the bubblebee with one wing in passing. Its little manta face
pulled up into a chubby smile.</p>
<p>The bear facsimiles join you and begin crying when they see their
“brothers” trapped on the deck of the ship.</p>
<p>You see a small school of fish making multiple passes by the SS RSS
like birds skimming insects from the sky.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00083.html">www</a></p>
<h4 id="00037">00037</h4>
<p>Prelude:</p>
<p>Different cultures of Basmentaria have different traditional stories
about Nullar, the lord of time and tides.</p>
<p>The cobits say he is an insatiable Wyrm who lies coiled tightly
around the present moment. He devours the past the moment it stops being
the present. And when he has finished digesting it, he regurgitates it
as the future, the processed remains of the past. And he remains ever
out of sight, just around the corner. Always having just happened. Or
about to happen. But never here, never now.</p>
<p>The gnu describe Nullar as a fastidious Librarian. They believe that
every time you make a choice, you create a create two separate
timelines, two stories. One in which you chose Option A and one in which
you chose Option B. The Librarian collects these alternate stories,
binds them between the covers of a new book, and adds them to his
collection. In this way he maintains the single sanctioned timeline and
keeps the tree of the multiverse pruned.</p>
<p>The torque say he is a solitary old man, a weary prisoner of his
office, fatigued by the neverending repeating cycles of time and tide,
with only his ravens for companionship.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky looks in the direction of the bears’ anguish and blinks at the
forms on the ship’s deck. How strange. Why are the bears in the mirage?
Didn’t Master Corraidhín send them to a safe spot earlier
<em>before</em> he entered the hull?</p>
<p>Between the two bears’ tearful retelling of events, Inky gathers the
sysorcerer had conjured an identical (at least in appearance) pair of
bears farther from the shipwreck, while the other pair were still on the
deck. If the sysorcerer had teleported himself out, Inky was fairly sure
he wouldn’t leave the bears behind to whatever had taken hold of the
ship after he and Gabs had gone to the trouble of rescuing them from the
harrowkrake’s clutches. Either the wizard will return to free the bears,
or he was still inside. From an angle close to the deck, Inky can see a
shadow inside the hatch that vaguely resembled the sysorcerer, but it
was difficult to tell from the blurry edges.</p>
<p>Resigned to a long wait, Inky sighs and pulls out bottles of instant
brew acorn tea and offers one to each bear, as well as a jar of candied
carrots. The tea was a few pinches saltier than usual, but it would do
for now. They float out some carrots to the giant manta ray hovering
nearby, holding up the jar briefly for the jellyfish atop their head to
snag a few with a free tentacle, before picking out two themselves and
passing the jar to the bears. To distract the bears a bit from the sight
of their doppelgangers in painfully slow motion, or the urge to dive in
after them, Inky inquires about their deep sea and lunar adventures.</p>
<p>After some time, Inky notices the same group of fish swimming back
and forth by the shipwreck, a few appearing as though they were passing
through the ship? “Hey. Do you know what the fish there are doing? Do
they regularly hang out near the shipwreck?” they ask the bears.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“What fish?” says the bear, squinting at the ship. “Those aren’t
fish.”</p>
<p>The alleged not-fish skirt around the edges of the wavering,
translucent ship. They dart in and out as they go as though trying to
clip a newspaper article.</p>
<p>END OF CHAPTER 2</p>
<p>INTERLUDE:</p>
<p>You return to Vay’Nullar with the second Ginnarak Crystal, but
without your comrade the sysorcerer.</p>
<p>When you get back to the Milk Market, there is an unsigned note
waiting for you:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>You have done exceptionally well so far Retrieval Team 43. We are
quite impressed, and will be in touch with you shortly. Until then,
trust nobody and watch your back. Not all is as it seems, and not
everybody is being truthful with you.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>There is an emblem at the bottom of the note in lieu of a signature:
an abstract white iris resting on top of a golden apple.</p>
<ul>
<li>Do you consider the mission a success?</li>
<li>What are you doing to recoup, recover, and unwind from the
mission?</li>
</ul>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00093.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="current-story">Current Story</h2>
<p>Below are emails that I send to the mailing list.</p>
<p>You can subscribe to these updates with the rss feed.</p>
<p><a href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml"
class="uri">https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</a></p>
<h3 id="00038">00038</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>The mission, party-wise, had been an abject failure.</p>
<p>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 <em>Diamond Howler</em>.) 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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 <em>Teatime with Tanokuma</em> and still regularly
attracted children when iced drinks were served during the
summertime.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Breaking into a system, smashing it to bites and pieces, watching the
carefully wrought design burn in amber and green, now THAT was
magic.</p>
<p>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 &amp; 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.</p>
<p>(Think rogue + illusion magic, where Corraidhin is straight
Wizard)</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>(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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>(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.</p>
<p>You were trying to get him to buy into KDL again weren’t you?</p>
<p>(Kevin) It’s a good language I swear, and if your uncle had just..
(Alex cuts him off)</p>
<p>Hush it. What did the sword look like, where was he headed?</p>
<p>(Kevin) <em>sigh</em> 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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..</p>
<p><em>sigh</em> 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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p><em>(Two days prior)</em></p>
<p>An office, barely illuminated by the glow of a moonstone lamp.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“You did what you had to do, Ink. And that sailor with the gold
eye?”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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!”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Prelude:</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Modern Fuschia is of course wrong. But neither he nor his BANDits
know how dangerously close he came to the actual truth.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>It is a common misconception that barn swallows are the most common
and widespread species of swallow. That distinction in fact belongs to
the <em>time swallow</em>. 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>Now then:</p>
<p>Retrieval Team 43 welcomes Alex into their ranks even as they mourn
the loss of Corraidhín the Wizened.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>But then the hobbit joins you.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<ul>
<li>Do you give the second crystal to Blavin?</li>
<li>Do you choose to go to Kelsun Peak, or to the moon?</li>
<li>Who is the Lady in Red and what does she want?</li>
<li>Will Corraidhín recover in the care of Felixe?</li>
<li>Who does the Director of BATT report to and what do they want with
the 1st Crystal?</li>
<li>What’s the deal with the Ornithologer’s Trio?</li>
<li>Who left you the note signed with an iris and apple?</li>
</ul>
<p>Find out next time on BASEMENT QUEST</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00097.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00039">00039</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>As Blavin comes back to the group from his grandoise space commentary
Alex begins to question him.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>As Alex finishes his questions he sits quietly for a moment staring
down Blavin.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>We’ll get information from someone, subtle, or not if needed.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky watches with faint amusement as a magical device, likely a
probe, found its way onto their mission handler.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Alex attempts to shake down the hobbit, who titters merrily at his
demands.</p>
<p>“You know nearly everything I do, dear! Your <em>mark</em> 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.</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<!--
Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on the Ornithologer Trio
4, 5 = Mixed Success
//-->
<p>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 <em>think</em> 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.</p>
<p>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?</p>
<p>The BANDit scowls and answers, Look, you just don’t get it, okay!</p>
<p>The three split up and go their separate ways and disappear into the
night.</p>
<p>You learn the following, one of which is true, one of which is false,
and one of which is meaningless.</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p>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.</p></li>
<li><p>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</p></li>
<li><p>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.</p></li>
</ol>
<!--
Meta: Alex rolls Investigation 2 on Blaven
1, 3 = Things go poorly, gain 1 xp
//-->
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p>Note: Feel free to back up and play out some more conversation at
Lucy’s before Blavin leaves if you want to.</p>
<p>Options on the table:</p>
<ul>
<li>To the mountains!</li>
<li>To the moon!</li>
<li>Something else!</li>
</ul>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-11/msg00103.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00040">00040</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>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!”</p>
<p>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, <em>We’ll report any
more.</em> 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?</p>
<p>~</p>
<p><em>(Meanwhile)</em></p>
<p>“The BANDit and his associates had gone to the tavern.” His assistant
looked up from the scrap of paper held under a claw.</p>
<p>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 <em>The Ichnition</em>. But Cio seemed to think something may
come of it and unfortunately, she was usually right about
troublemakers.</p>
<p>“Tell them to continue tailing from a distance,” he replied with a
distracted wave, and his assistant left the room.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>Still, there’s no point to share any of this information. It’s too
loose, not definitive enough to action with the group.</p>
<p>Alex begins to pen a message to an fellow operative, in hopes that HQ
will pick it up and assign someone to the task.</p>
<pre><code>&lt;- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
-&gt; OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
CLEARANCE: SECRET
PACKET ENCLOSED. YOUR EYES ONLY.
REQUESTING DETAIL ON BLAVIN
EMPLOY OF &quot;THE BENEFACTOR&quot;
PERCEPTIVE, AWARE OF BUGS.
DO NOT CONTACT, DO NOT DISRUPT
EXTREME CAUTION IMPERATIVE.</code></pre>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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..</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>It is wicked cold as you step out onto the platform and the wind nips
and bites at you relentlessly.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00186.html">www</a></p>
<h3 id="00041">00041</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>And here he stood, a stranger amongst amidst his uncle’s allies, and
very little intention to change that situation at the moment.</p>
<p>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.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>~</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky greets the toques in turn politely, then turns to the second
toque and says, “A little bit of bread and no cheese.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>“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.”</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>“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!”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00193.html">www</a></p>
<h2 id="bestiary">Bestiary</h2>
<p>Some of the creatures who inhabit the world of Basmentaria</p>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Aur</dt>
<dd>
Giant ears with bat wings. Very keen hearing obviously. Usually more of
an annoyance than a true deterent. Unless there’s a Centaur around.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="aur.png" alt="aur" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">aur</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Blahoblin</dt>
<dd>
a little goblinoid with the head of a goblin shark
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="goblin.gif" alt="blahoblin" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">blahoblin</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Centaur</dt>
<dd>
A hundred ears with a hundred wings. The size of a small horse. They can
really ruin your day.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="centaur.png" alt="centaur" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">centaur</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Cobit</dt>
<dd>
A creature on the cob. The middle life stage of the corn creature,
between Aur and Centaur. It does not have wings. Its flesh is comprised
of thousands of hard microkernels. They travel in herds, and can hear at
the speed of sound.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="cobit.gif" alt="cobit" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">cobit</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<p>
</p>
<dl>
<dt>Egre</dt>
<dd>
Giant muscle bird. Proud, muscly, vain, fashion forward. Beautiful
plumage.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="egre.png" alt="egre" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">egre</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<p>
</p>
<dl>
<dt>Gnome</dt>
<dd>
Tiny tinkerers. Highly combustible. Very explosive. Like making
contraptions powered by steam and/or coal
</dd>
<dd>
All gnomes are women. All gnomes are engineers. They have bright red
noses, and very long ears. And long nimble fingers.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="gnome.gif" alt="gnome" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">gnome</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Gnu</dt>
<dd>
Bisonpeople. Long beards, long hair, horns. Poor personal hygiene.
Uncompromising idealists. They insist on a world of free and open-source
magic. They refuse to use any magic that they cannot study, modify,
redistribute, and use however they want. Theirs is a political movement
that borders on religion. Or a religious movement that borders on
politics.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="gnu.png" alt="gnu" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">gnu</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Groll</dt>
<dd>
A dirty mop head on long, stilt-like legs. Solitary wanderers. They love
magic, but have no natural aptitude for it, and so covet magical items
like wands, staves, and orbs. A typical groll is a walking arsenal of
runes and wands.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="groll.png" alt="groll" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">groll</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Harrowkrake</dt>
<dd>
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.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="harrowkrake.png" alt="harrowkrake" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">harrowkrake</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Hemogoblin</dt>
<dd>
A fluffy little goblinoid, dripping blood absolutely EVERYWHERE. Oh god,
don’t let it touch that! Ew.
</dd>
<dd>
Dispite everything, disgustingly cute.
</dd>
<dd>
Sole manufacturers of an extremely high quality synthetic blood, and
thus pretty much single-handedly support the “vegetarian” vampire
community.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="hemogoblin.png" alt="hemogoblin" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">hemogoblin</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Horkosgrampus</dt>
<dd>
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.
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Kobit</dt>
<dd>
Subterranean scaly ratdog creatures. Big luminous eyes, long droopy
mustaches. Extremely rarely, they may grow leathery wings, in which case
they are revered and elevated by the other kobits.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="kobit.png" alt="kobit" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">kobit</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Merbear</dt>
<dd>
Top half bear. Thick, hairless, leathery skin with a thick layer of
blubber to keep it warm. Bottom half fish.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="merbear.png" alt="merbear" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">merbear</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Tardigrade</dt>
<dd>
A water bear. It has eight jointless legs, each tipped with four sharp
claws. It wriggles and wobbles like jelly as it gesticulates.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="tardigrade.png" alt="tardigrade" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">tardigrade</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Toque</dt>
<dd>
Wild men of the mountains. Their long, sloping, vertically-creased
foreheads and their bulbous, floppy skullcaps make it look like they
wear chef’s hats. But no, that’s just what their heads look like.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="toque.jpg" alt="toque" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">toque</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Torque</dt>
<dd>
The twisted people. Their bodies literally twisted and warped by magic
into gruesome forms, these wretched creatures are hated and reviled
across the lands.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="torque.jpg" alt="torque" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">torque</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<dt>
<dl>
<dt>Zephynos</dt>
<dd>
Juvenile cloud dragons. They have wide heads and lidless eyes. Multiple
pairs of filamented stalks behind their head help them fly. They have
six underdeveloped limbs with long, thin fingers that they use to
manipulate cloudstuff into solid objects.
</dd>
<dd>
<details>
<figure>
<img src="zephynos.png" alt="zephynos" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">zephynos</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
</dd>
</dl>
<h2 id="geography">Geography</h2>
<details>
<summary>
<p>Map</p>
</summary>
<figure>
<img src="map.webp" alt="Map" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Map</figcaption>
</figure>
</details>
<p>Basmentaria is a group of islands that sits between the eastern
Sugrin Sea and the western Saldin Sea.</p>
<p>There is Primora, the sparsely populated northern somewhat
banana-shaped island. The city-state of Illivas, Primora’s only densely
populated area, sits between Harshwind Glade and the mountains of Kelsun
Peak.</p>
<p>And there Agendell, the southern also slightly banana-shaped island.
Its largest city is Vay’Nullar, bordered by the Gnomelands to the south,
and the Tammineaux Forest to the east. Beyond the forest is the Rana’For
Valley.</p>
<p>The two crescent-moon islands reach toward each other, and in the
center is the archipelago of Ginnarak, comprising the Cinderlands, Ashen
Vale, the Ember Steppe, and Drakspon Mountain.</p>
<p><a href="#00022">00022</a></p>
<h2 id="cosmology">Cosmology</h2>
<p>In a fantasy setting where there objectively are deities who walk the
earth and interact with humans, “atheism” is sometimes erroneously used
to signify an indifference to the gods. This is more accurately called
“transtheism”:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Transtheism refers to a system of thought or religious philosophy
that is neither theistic nor atheistic, but is beyond them. … [A system]
is theistic in the limited sense that gods exist but are irrelevant as
they are transcended by … a system that is not non-theistic, but in
which the gods are not the highest spiritual instance.</p>
<p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transtheism"
class="uri">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transtheism</a></p>
</blockquote>
<p>That is, gods are sufficiently powerful enough to mold the earth and
shape the destiny of man, but are no different from man in that they are
fallible, flawed, and able to die.</p>
<p>They may be greatest power, but are not necessarily the highest
spiritual or moral authority. Nor are they endlessly enduring or
lasting.</p>
<p>THE TRINE:</p>
<ul>
<li><p><strong>Neddas</strong> – Wise god of sages and starlight.
Androgynous, clad in purple robes, depicted with a golden third eye in
the middle of their forehead. They are often shown stoically bestowing
gifts upon the inhabitants of Basmentaria [1].</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Nullar</strong> – God of time and tides. A bespectacled
male figure with a golden third eye on his forehead. He is dressed in a
dapper vest and bow tie, and is adorned with small cogs and gears. He is
depicted looking up at the stars from a mechanical contraption he is
working on [1].</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Liandt</strong> – Goddess of war and flame. A primal,
elemental deity, she is depicted as a fiery warrior with a golden third
eye. The relief shows her on the battlefield during the Artifice wars.
The wars which reduced Ginnarak to the wastes of cinder and ash that
they are today. The wars which drained Liandt’s divine energies so
thoroughly that she fell into a deep sleep and has been absent from the
mortal realms ever since [1].</p></li>
</ul>
<p>[1] <a href="#00010">episode 00010</a></p>
<h2 id="history">History</h2>
<p>In the days of old, the Artifice Wars ravaged the lands of
Basmentaria.</p>
<p>They reduced the once fertile lands of Ginnarak to ash and
embers.</p>
<h2 id="afterword">Afterword</h2>
<p>I don’t know what I’m going to put here, but I didn’t want this
document to just abruptly end. So here you go: a kind farewell and a
more gentle conclusion.</p>
<p>Thanks for reading.</p>
<p>dozens@tilde.team</p>
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