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