8.7 KiB
| title | created | updated | public | syndicated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 00066 | Sun, 26 Feb 2023 12:08:16 -0700 | Sun, 26 Feb 2023 12:08:16 -0700 | yes | yes |
00066
"Thank you. May your search brings you good tidings." Inky replies with a smile and nod towards the sea.
"As to what brings me here, another traveller and myself have been summoned to the Harpoon Club at a Wandering Bazaar. However, despite uncovering the occasional biscuit tin or cotton candy wheel, my knack for thing-finding doesn't really extend to sentient bazaars in pocket dimensions." Inky chuckles wryly. "Might you happen to know the way?"
As they end their question, Inky slips their hands into the pockets of their hooded vest and is met with an envelope nestled within one of them. A message from Master Alex. The packet is a bit lumpy to the touch, as though there is a small round object inside. The sysorcerer may have decided to spend some quality time with his stalker after all. Must be lovely to have a dedicated fan. The two wouldn't mind if Inky went on a spot of sightseeing.
"Also, did you say the Throne of Konsu?" They glance in the direction of the large tower and back to the figure before them.
"Ah, you don't know the story of Lord Konsu?" The ravenfolk beckons you to walk with him as you talk. "In the beginning, nobody knew how to dream. There were no real people then. Just beasts and creatures and horrors.
"So at that point, every creature visited Ousia only twice: at the moment of birth, and at the moment of death. And all the time in between was spent longing to return to the sea."
At the ravenfolk's side, the world spins under your feet. In mere steps, you have made it to the base of the mountain jutting from the center of the island.
"And one day, Konsu did. He dreamed. He was the first. Each night he returned to the sea, and it swallowed his madness and his wildness. It evolved his mind. It is dreaming, you see, that makes you human.
"The sea claims everything though eventually. But you know this already. You crossed the sea. Surely you saw how it can work on dreamers who have tarried here too long."
Still the ravenfolk guides you onward until you arrive at the base of the fractal tower, all purple and yellow stones.
You step inside and find voluminous halls, walls lined with statues of all subjects. Fawns in revelry, elegant women in repose, terrible giants in agony, warriors standing at attention, leaping fish, and roaring lions.
He leads you through a labyrinth of empty halls, up grand stairs, across yawning vestibules and dizzying bridges suspended between towers as he continues to talk.
"Ousia works even on Konsu the Lord of All Dreams. Ephermeris is his throne, it's true. But it is also his prison. The island is Konsu, you see. He is no longer at liberty to roam his domain himself, in his own flesh. But perhaps you have already met one of his avatars? Morpheus? The Dude 215R? Kilroy? Hmm, yes, I see that you have.
"Well," he says pulling up short of an archway. You can hear voices and laughter and the clinking of dinnerware on the other side. "I believe we have arrived at your destination. I thank you for the company, and will leave you here."
The ravenfolk withdraws, disappearing once more into the maze of the tower.
You look through the archway and see a plush dinner club absolutely packed with patrons of all possible shapes and sizes. The Harpoon Club.
You catch somebody waving at you from a table in the far corner. Blavin Blandfoot. He grins and beckons you forward.
Joining him is a tall, slender cat person. Its facial features mostly obscured by its jet-black fur. And with their back to you, a wizened old man. The three of them are in the middle of a round of tumbrot, a complicated game of wagers---overly complicated, some would say---involving a special deck of cards, a set of dice, and a tumbling tower of blocks.
You watch as the cat reaches out and carefully removes a block from the middle of the tower. It places it on top, and the tower sways. The group at the table excitedly holds its breath, and when the tower falls, the cat holds its head in its hands in exaggerated dismay. The old man whoops and gathers up his winnings and then turns and looks over his shoulder in the direction that Blavin is waving.
Corraidhín the Sysorcerer grins and waves at you.
Alex pulls at the trigger of the ak and he plummets towards the waves sending a wave of cold lead towards the bigger Katsuva. "Son of a bitch, never trust someone who has to hide their face, agent 7, marvelo, always was right on that one." Hell, dunno if magical dream guns work on mushrooms, but to hell with it, Alex thought.
He plunges into the water gripping tightly to his weapon, the little katsuva clinging to him. As the water wraps around him he kicks at the little mushroom breaking its grasp on his leg, and begins to swim back up to the surface. "Like hell we're doing this your way cavatappi dude."
Back in the real world..
Marvelo stares bleakly at the child and his assailant. "Who the fuck do you think you are? And what the hell are you doing with the kid, Rind, ain't nothin good to come from some shady bloke like you. The hell do you think you're teaching him?"
As Marvelo hurls insults as demands at his assailant he slyly presses his thumb and forefinger into the palm of his left hand, breaking a small resistor embedded in his palm which activates as feint electrical pulse inside his body. Just enough to trigger a Zabbix alarm, which kicks off a series out automated correction scripts. A dose of adrenaline here, a quick alaert to the remaining agents with a broadcast LAT/LONG details via encrypted twtxt feed, but most importantly something special Alex had each agent prepare, just in case their luck ran out, an alarm only the damned could sleep through.
The screech of heavy metal music blares throughout the audio system of the warehouse, every alarm and speaker comes alive blaring heavy riffs of guitar and wicked drums fill the air while screaming echos around the building. Marvelo laughs maniacly as his uninvited guest reels at the unexpected turn of events.
"Alex! We caught him!" Marvelo yells through his laughing fit.
Gliftwirp frowns as the sirens wail in the fish market. He tightens the rope around Marvelo's neck. Deprived of oxygen, Marvelo struggles and then goes limp.
The hemogoblin in the corner trembles as an overpowering sense of JUSTICE sings in its veins. It gnashes its teeth and its bloodshoot eyes become pupil-less pools of red. A single word dances on the tip of its tongue.
It watches as Gliftwirp stands at the edge of the ritual circle, looking in. Pillows and blankets creep slowly toward the dreamers like slugs intent on smothering them.
The hemogoblin launches itself into the air with a cry of "EEEEE! VULL!" and lands on the assassin's back, sinking its teeth into the nape of his neck and reaching its claws around for his face.
Gliftwirp cries out in pain and surprise. His hands shoot back to pry the thing from his back even as he is propelled forward by the force of the attack.
Gliftwirp and the hemogoblin cross the circle of salt and ash and spill into the pillows in a heap and instantly both of them fall fast asleep.
An observer would almost think they were cuddling each other in their sleep. If it weren't, that is, for the goblin's claws, still sunk into the side of the warpwefter's face.
Rind, sired by the melon seller, abandoned by his own mother, and adopted by the assassin, watches all of this unfold. And sits down and strokes the duck's feathers.
~
Alex's ascent into the waking world is interrupted by a surge that tugs him sideways and off track. The presence of new arrivals in the stream, the tenuous connection between the waking and dreaming worlds held open by the Dream Sigil. Somebody beckoning him, summoning him.
He emerges from the void into an endless, featureless expanse. Plain, loose, dark soil as far as the eye can see, with only a small rock or two here and there to break up the monotony. The black empty sky looms ominously overhead.
Before you is a tall, slender person in voluminous robes of deep purple. Their soft, smooth face framed by curtains of long, straight, blonde hair. They wear a golden circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their forehead. And in their hands they wield a resplendent longsword.
Shreds of a tattered red cloth lie strewn about their feet.
They lift their head at your appearance. "Alex," they say. "It is good that we finally meet. You have done me a great service in gathering pieces of my essence---including this, the Sword of Y'aml!---so that I may finally start to return to Basmentaria. You have done so much already, but I am afraid I must ask more of you still."
WHAT DO YOU DO