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<?xml version="1.0" ?>
<rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
<channel>
<atom:link href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
<title>BASEMENT QWEST</title>
<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
<item>
<title>43</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">43 - Mon, 19 Dec 2022 08:03:20
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 19 Dec 2022 08:03:25 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00043">00043</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Pirates?! Again?! Alex groans, unfortunately he’s run into
this crew of dastardly mostly cybernetic punks in the past.
Nasty group back home, always kept the precinct busy. Not
necessarily with the detective work, it was always a little
obvious when they showed up. They have a flair for the
dramatic.</p>
<p>Alex shouts to Inky &amp; Jarrod “Come on, we need to get
in one of those balloons and fast!” he then darts off in the
direction of the nearest abandoned balloon in the market
place, not looking to see if his companions had followed
him.</p>
<p><em>internally</em> I know these guys have pulled off
smaller heists, they could just be attacking the hotel to
plunder riches from its guests. They don’t seem the likes of a
retrieval team.. Then again, that Blavin fellow has multiple
teams working for him, and he doesn’t seem all too picky about
how they get the job done, it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d
hired some brigands hoping they’d get the gems faster.</p>
<p>Alex conjures up another bug, a stag beetle this time, and
casts it away at the pirate ship. It’ll probably take some
time to catch up, but once it does we’ll be able to keep an
eye on the pirate’s ship and general actions, at least within
line of sight of the bug.</p>
<p>As Alex reaches the balloon he grabs the ruby hilted dagger
and cuts the mooring lines keeping it down, and jumps into the
basket preparing for take off.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You spot a balloon that has already been knocked half loose
of its mooring by the pirate attack. The basket is listing to
the side and tugging at the one remaining rope tying it down
Its owner scurries around in circles trying to secure it.</p>
<p>The vertical panels of the balloon are all different
colors, creating a brilliant rainbow pattern. The large woven
basket is large enough for maybe three people.</p>
<p>You leap inside, swinging the ruby hilted dagger at the
remaining mooring line. The balloon owner cries out in dismay.
The basket shifts beneath your feet as the balloon tugs it
skyward.</p>
<p>In the burner, a small sunspoke—a minor fire elemental—is
merrily burning away, producing a modest flame that is hot
enough to lift the balloon slowly above the market into the
sky. There is a knob valve on the side of the burner to allow
more oxygen to flow in, thereby feeding the sunspoke and
encouraging it to burn more intensely and raise the balloon
higher and faster. The valve is currently only about one third
open.</p>
<p>A pile of blankets in one corner of the basket—and that
area of the basket itself—is covered in blood. Somebody
injured in the pirate attack must have temporarily climbed
into the basket looking for cover? As you’re about to look
away, something large-ish (small for a human, large for an
animal) under the blankets shifts and moves.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky stares after Alex’s sprinting figure before shrugging
and stepping towards one of the stalls selling sandwiches
bowled over by one of the large boulders. They place some
loose change on the stall’s wooden sign that had tipped over
on the ground and pocket one of the sandwiches displayed
inside an open chest oven. Next, they pick up several of the
scented candles scattered on the ground by the crash, throwing
some coins in the direction of the disoriented vendor before
continuing at a leisurely pace up the steps to the hotel,
taking in the balloonship and surrounding scenery. The members
of their merry party arriving first can hold their own as well
as the fort of a hotel.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You do a little leisurely shopping as the vendors and other
shoppers put out fires and tend to the injured. With a couple
scented candles and a sandwich safely in your pocket, you
start to climb the cloud steps, enjoying the scenery as you
go. Bread and Confidence have quite a bit of a head start on
you, and are nowhere to be seen. As the stairway winds around
the mountainside, the market and its bustle recede from view,
and soon you are quite isolated and alone.</p>
<p>The majesty of creation is humbling here: the endless,
roiling ocean of cloud; the towering mountain of rock. It’s as
though this was the creator’s playground when they were still
trying to figure out scale. Before they quite got it right for
human-sized creatures.</p>
<p>About halfway up your climb, it starts raining sheets of
paper. You snatch one and read it. Some heroic fantasy about
slaying demons and facing great peril. You grab another. A
bodice-ripping romance. Another. A gourmand’s food tour of
Basmentaria, eating their way from coast to coast. A murder
mystery whodunnit. An aetherwael handler’s guide to
interplanetary travel. How to grow your own fortified
pumpkins. On the Care and Maintenance of Fortles. The Rise and
Fall and Rise of Palace Runesocesius. Within a minute, you
have fists full of an entire library’s worth of snippets and
passages.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>It looks as though Alex will approach the hotel by balloon
from the non-pirate side. And Inky’s approach by stair will
deposit them at the hotel entrance, roughly
pirate-adjacent.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00217.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>46</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">46 - Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:36:07
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Thu, 22 Dec 2022 12:36:10 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00046">00046</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>Ah so I suppose those Toques were being honest then, there
was a Ginnarak crystal, and I guess they were going to give it
to us.. oh well, nothing good in life comes easy.</p>
<p>Alex cranks the dial on the sunspoke, grabs the hemogoblin
from the basket, and jumps out of the balloon and onto the
deck of the ship. He rushes over to the nearest pile of
bundled rope and barrels and stows his new hemo friend. “Just
stay hidden little guy, let me take care of these pirates
first.”</p>
<p>Alex grabs the dagger from his side as he makes his way
towards the side of the ship, first thing first, best to cut
the mooring lines and zip lines. The static clawing sensation
appears at the back of Alex’s mind, but he attempts to ignore
it. There’s too much that needs to be done too quickly, and
he’s all too aware of the danger he’s put himself in. “What
would Corraidhin do..” Alex thinks to himself, “perhaps a
spell?”.</p>
<div class="sourceCode" id="cb1"><pre
class="sourceCode lua"><code class="sourceCode lua"><span id="cb1-1"><a href="#cb1-1" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a><span class="kw">function</span> target<span class="op">:</span>new<span class="op">(</span>obj<span class="op">,</span> tbl<span class="op">)</span></span>
<span id="cb1-2"><a href="#cb1-2" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> obj <span class="op">=</span> obj <span class="kw">or</span> <span class="op">{}</span></span>
<span id="cb1-3"><a href="#cb1-3" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> <span class="fu">setmetatable</span><span class="op">(</span>obj<span class="op">,</span> self<span class="op">)</span></span>
<span id="cb1-4"><a href="#cb1-4" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span><span class="cn">__</span>index <span class="op">=</span> self</span>
<span id="cb1-5"><a href="#cb1-5" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span>x <span class="op">=</span> <span class="dv">0</span></span>
<span id="cb1-6"><a href="#cb1-6" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span>y <span class="op">=</span> <span class="dv">0</span></span>
<span id="cb1-7"><a href="#cb1-7" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span>speed <span class="op">=</span> <span class="dv">0</span></span>
<span id="cb1-8"><a href="#cb1-8" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> reutrn obj</span>
<span id="cb1-9"><a href="#cb1-9" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a><span class="kw">end</span></span>
<span id="cb1-10"><a href="#cb1-10" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a></span>
<span id="cb1-11"><a href="#cb1-11" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a><span class="kw">function</span> target<span class="op">:</span>yeet<span class="op">()</span></span>
<span id="cb1-12"><a href="#cb1-12" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span>x <span class="op">=</span> <span class="dv">100</span></span>
<span id="cb1-13"><a href="#cb1-13" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span>y <span class="op">=</span> <span class="dv">100</span></span>
<span id="cb1-14"><a href="#cb1-14" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> self<span class="op">.</span>speed <span class="op">=</span> <span class="dv">50</span></span>
<span id="cb1-15"><a href="#cb1-15" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a> <span class="cf">return</span> self</span>
<span id="cb1-16"><a href="#cb1-16" aria-hidden="true" tabindex="-1"></a><span class="kw">end</span></span></code></pre></div>
<p>After preparing the spell Alex makes his way towards the
guard rail ready to cut the mooring and zip lines, spell at
the ready should an enemy appear.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You crank the dial to 11. The sunspoke squeals in delight
and burns like a tiny star. You grab the hemogoblin, who
chirrups and clings tightly to you, and leap from the balloon
onto the deck of the airship.</p>
<p>You think you can hear—barely audible—the sunspoke singing
a song of homecoming as the hot air balloon continues to rise
unpiloted up toward the sun.</p>
<p>You rush over to cover behind a barrel, and deposit your
new hemogoblin friend safely inside the center of a large coil
of rope. It looks up at you quizzically, but nods when you
tell it to stay put.</p>
<p>You invoke the powers of the moon and prepare a quick but
(hopefully) sufficient Spell of Yeeting.</p>
<!--
Alex rolls Do Anything 1 to cut the lines and avoid detection
6 = Great Success! Level Up!
//-->
<p>When you draw the dagger, the world develops a faint static
background noise which is easy enough to ignore at the moment
given the state of things. You dash forward and start sawing
at the thick mooring lines. The dagger’s ruby hilt flashes in
the sunlight as you work, and in your mind’s eye you see a
bright red wine, and a drop of blood red ink flowing from the
nib of a fountain pen.</p>
<p>You shake the images from your head just as you finish
sawing through the rope. A Cyberplasm who was shimmying back
up the rope from the hotel to the ship yelps as the line goes
slack and swings back into the side of the cliff. The pirate
rebounds from the impact, bounces off the mountainside a few
times, and falls from view as it disappears through the clouds
below.</p>
<p>The ship drifts lazily, rising slightly, and despite your
best sneaking around, the remaining Cyberplasms on board
cannot help but notice that the ship is no longer tethered.
You successfully hide behind a barrel as three cyber ghost
pirates come rushing over to the ship railing and lean over,
looking below at where there are no longer any ropes attaching
the ship to the hotel.</p>
<p>Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the hemogoblin
toddling across the deck toward the Cyberplasms, no doubt
curious about what they’re looking at over the side of the
ship.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Indeed, Bread, it’s me. You have not yet escaped your fate
of untraceable disappearance just yet.” Inky deadpans, then
smiles. “We have much to discuss, but later. I do need a guide
… to your hotelier. Presumably I will find them by following
the racket and trail of ruined decor, but maybe you know of a
quicker route?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bread smiles at the threat of being untraceably
disappeared, mostly confident that they are on the inside of a
private little joke and that they are presently in no actual
danger from Inky. They grip their hammer a little tighter
nonetheless.</p>
<p>Confidence slips their trowels into their apron. “Yes, this
way!”</p>
<p>They hurry down the hall. You know you’re going the right
way because tattered, torn, charred books litter the ground in
increasing numbers. Bits of paper and ash fall like snow.</p>
<p>Confidence guides you away from the entrance to the
library’s Great Hall, and takes you instead to a smaller, more
discreet staff entrance. They open the door a crack, and as
you look through you are just in time to see the ship captain
with their cybernetic leg, arm canon, and eye. Now that the
crew have cleared the way for them, they stroll across the
library over piles of fallen, damaged books.</p>
<p>A thin bald man with a neatly trimmed mustache is on the
other side of the hall, his back turned to the pirate. He
wears a fine suit and has just finished unlocking a glass
display case. He retrieves a multifaceted blue and gold stone
and hugs it to his chest with both arms. He throws a panicked
glance over his shoulder at the slowly approaching pirate, and
turns to run away. His retreat is halted by a small explosion
at his feet. He skids to a stop and looks back at the pirate,
who is lowering their arm canon.</p>
<p>“The crystal,” the captain demands in a voice part ghostly
moan, part mechanical drone. “Hand it over, hotelier.” It
steps closer. “Mother has promised us new bodies if we deliver
the quintessence. You won’t be permitted to stand in our
way.”</p>
<p>One pirate near the breach tucks a couple volumes of manhwa
under its arm and climbs out onto the mooring line, returning
to the ship with its plunder. It howls as the line suddenly
goes slack, flinging the pirate and its comics into the
mountainside, and then out into space.</p>
<p>Sunlight pours into the library from outside as the shadow
of the airship shifts as it starts to drift, suddenly
unmoored.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00231.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>42</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">42 - Sat, 17 Dec 2022 08:01:41
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 17 Dec 2022 08:01:48 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00042">00042</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>This seems a bit strange. Certainly Blavin has been pulling
strings from behind the scenes the whole time, but why
coordinate a special escort for us when there are other
retrieval teams, and we’ve been less than amicable with the
bloke the entire time.. Alex thinks to himself.</p>
<p><em>DM: I’d like to check for any signs of deceit in the
toques demeanor or communcations with us</em></p>
<p>Confidence you said right? What would you do if I simply
chose not to accompany you? I mean, there’s a whole city
around us, perhaps I’d prefer a drink before climbing a
mountains worth of stairs. Or better yet, I could get back on
the boat and ride to the top and same myself the hassle.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bread once again looks confused. Confidence looks
surprised, caught off guard.</p>
<!--
Alex rolls Investigation 2 to check for signs of deceit
3 5 = Partial Success / Success at Cost
//-->
<p>Confidence sputters, “Well, yes, of course. You’ve been
traveling for some time now, haven’t you? I can assure you
that the food and drink at Runesocesius will be better than
anything you can get here! But the choice is entirely yours.
Feel free to avail yourself of the local offerings. We will
wait here at the steps for you.”</p>
<p>Bread nods slowly, and seems to trailing behind the
conversation just a second or two.</p>
<p>Their reactions seem genuine to you despite the
circumstances. They seem like a couple of low level employees
of a luxury hotel earnestly trying to follow the instructions
they’ve been given.</p>
<p>There are a couple of stalls and vendors set up around the
gondola station. Many of them serve mulled wine and hot
chocolate. There is some edible fare. Hot sandwiches and
pitas. Nothing that an empanada from Enrique’s wouldn’t put to
shame. But they look hot and steamy, and of great comfort to
anybody who might be hungry and cold. There are a few fire
pits, next to which there are long benches with blankets,
where you might sit and warm up for a bit.</p>
<p>The gondola lift ends here, and does not continue up to the
mountain any further. The cloud steps are the most common way
to get up to the peak, and to the Runesocesius. But you’re
pretty sure one or two of the stalls here offers balloon rides
up to the peak for thrill seekers and for those with
accessibility needs.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“I think you already know I’m interested in neither bread
nor cheese, the second of which I certainly did not ask for
yet you tried to offer in your hasty pretence.” Inky smiles
thinly at the toques.</p>
<p>Taking out a small bag of gold coins and weighing it slowly
on one hand to the sound of coins clinking inside the pouch,
Inky continues, “Speak, answer our questions frankly and you
will be rewarded. The hotelier up there need not know. Breathe
a word of our little chat to another soul, however …” Inky’s
gaze cut briefly to four snow ravens perched atop a spiral
lamp post and back, “and you will learn the meaning of
disappearing without a trace.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bread looks confused. You are starting to believe it is
their default expression. “So, you <em>don’t</em> want no
chee—”</p>
<p>“Our only desire is to help!” Confidence hastily
interrupts. He smiles pleasingly. “We are your guides! Not
just physically up the steps, but in all things here on Kelsun
Peak. You have but to ask, and if it is within our power to
give it, it will be yours! We are but humble ser—”</p>
<p>And just then Confidence is also suddenly interrupted. A
thundering boom like a canon sounds from somewhere nearby,
followed quickly by an explosion somewhere up above. Snow
ravens fly off in all directions in a panic. The sound ripples
through the mountaintop, rattling the ground on which you
stand. A bunch of small rocks and two large boulders shake
loose from the mountainside. Shoppers and travelers shout and
duck for cover as they are pelted by the scree. One of the
large boulder bounces clear over the station and plummets down
the side of the mountain before disappearing into the cloud
ocean below. The second one falls straight toward the
platform. A vendor selling wreaths and candles dives out of
the way as his stall is crushed by the boulder. A bench is
toppled over, spilling its blankets into the fire pit, and
catches fire, quickly spreading to another nearby stall.</p>
<p>Bread looks up at the sky, confused. You see a thin line of
black smoke starting to rise up into the sky from over the
ridge where the Runesocesius lies. Confidence shouts, and you
see him pointing at the sea, where a balloonship is rising up
out of the cloud bank, sailing quickly toward you and the
summit of Kelsun Peak.</p>
<p>It resembles a seafaring ship, but instead of masts and
sails, it has two large, colorful, patchwork balloons that
provide it lift. A large fan on a pivot at the rear of the
ship provides thrust. As you watch, it fires a second
canon—that <em>is</em> what the sound was!—nearly straight up,
arcing up and over the peak at Palace Runesocesius.</p>
<p>The crew of the ship bustle around on the deck of the ship,
reloading the canons, firing the balloons, shouting, giving
and following orders.</p>
<p>“Cyberplasms,” groans Confidence, and Bread whimpers. Alex,
that quiet, dull, static roar that has been constantly
tickling the back of your head ever since you found that
dagger seems to rise in pitch and in tone. It conveys a sense
of urgency, of warning. You can <em>almost</em> hear a
desperate voice behind the static fuzz cautioning you,
“Evil…”</p>
<p>The only corporeal element of the crew are their cybernetic
enhancements. A mechanical leg. A synthetic eye. A claw, a
hook, a hand. An arm canon. Almost all of them have more than
one, some as many as 3 or 5. The cybernetic pieces of each
individual crew member are held together by plasmic energy
arcs, crackling blue and green. And surrounding the bioware
and the plasmic arcs of each crew member, like a blanket or a
cocoon, is the translucent, wavering, ghostly form of some
humanoid long-dead.</p>
<p>The figure standing on the deck surveying the work of the
rest of the crew—presumably the captain—has a synthetic eye
rotating freely, 360 degrees in all directions, inside its
skull-like head; a bulky arm canon; and a thin robotic leg
terminating in a thick boot. Plasmic blasts arc through its
core, sometimes disrupting and glitching its ghostly body.</p>
<p>The captain raises its arm canon and shouts to the crew.
Its voice carried on the breeze sounds like something
otherworldly rising slowly from the murky deep. “Fire the
canon, boys! And fire up the balloons! Drop the ballast! That
crystal is <em>ours!</em>”</p>
<p>It happens very quickly: the ship ascends to the summit and
soon is firing grappling hooks at it to pull themselves in and
breach the walls of the hotel.</p>
<p>Bread looks at you, wide-eyed and trembling. They let loose
a pitiful wail and turn and start running up the steps.
“Bread!” Confidence yells after them. They cast a backward
glance at you. “I’ve got to help Bread! We’ve got to save the
hotel!” And they give chase to their fellow toque, bounding up
the cloudstuff steps.</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00203.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>39</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">39 - Sat, 19 Nov 2022 07:38:02
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 25 Nov 2022 07:11:12 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<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>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>44</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">44 - Tue, 20 Dec 2022 08:47:08
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 20 Dec 2022 08:47:11 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00044">00044</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>As Alex spots the sunspoke valve he grabs it and cranks it
up to the 2/3 mark. “Sorry little friend, we’re going to need
a little bit more juice”. The baloon lurches upwards as air
rushes in feeding the sunspoke, causing it to burn more
intensely. After setting the sunspoke ablaze and shouting back
to the balloon’s owner Alex takes account of his surroundings.
It’s during this time he spots the bloodied, moving blankets.
They seem to writhe, as though something beneath them is
injured.</p>
<p>Gripping the dagger firmly in one hand Alex grabs the
blankets from the corner of the balloon basket revealing
whatever lay beneath.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The sunspoke stretches its little arms and wriggles its
little fingers. It sighs happily, luxuriating in the extra
fuel. It burns twice as bright, shooting a hot jet of bright
yellow flame up into the parachute. The sunspoke starts to
glow a molten red, and you start to rise faster.</p>
<p>As you rise up over the peak, you can finally spot the
Runesocesius. The grand hotel is draped over the top of the
mountain, clinging to it like a dragon resting on its
hoard.</p>
<p>The “cyberplasms” as Confidence called them have docked to
the side of a tower on the other side of the peak from you.
They have shot a large hole in the side of the tower, and you
can see them now starting to zipline into the building. A
thick plume of black smoke billows out of the side of the
tower, carrying pages and pages of loose paper into the air
with it. They rain down like snow. The tower must house an
extensive library.</p>
<p>You cautiously pull back a corner of the bloody blankets,
jeweled dagger raised and ready to strike. You reveal a small
bloody furry blob. You see two big round eyes, a short-snouted
face, and enormous pointed ears. It quickly looks away from
you, chirps pathetically, and trembles as it cowers in place.
You have found a frightened hemogoblin stowaway!</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00219.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>41</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">41 - Wed, 14 Dec 2022 17:50:38
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 14 Dec 2022 17:50:44 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<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>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>45</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">45 - Tue, 20 Dec 2022 10:15:23
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Thu, 22 Dec 2022 09:29:11 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<h3 id="00045">00045</h3>
<blockquote>
<p>As the blankets draw back from the bloody mass, a cute
little hemogoblin appears. “Aww little fellas just scared.”
Alex lowers the dagger, but otherwise ignores the hemogoblin.
Best to leave it be for now, there’s more important
things.</p>
<p>As the balloon gets within range of the ship Alex begins to
scan the deck for Cyberplasms. At the same time he checks his
bug to track the location of the cyberplasms more acutely. It
looks like there may be an opporunity to jump from the balloon
to the ship. After that cutting the zip lines would give me
the opporunity to steal the ship, leaving the cyberplasms
trapped at the top of the hotel.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Just a few Cyberplasms remain on the deck of the airship.
The vast majority of them have zipped into the hotel
tower.</p>
<p>You check your bug’s feed. It has gone almost entirely
unnoticed in the fracas, and you are able to piece together a
clear picture of the inside of the tower. It is indeed a grand
library, its galleries spanning each floor of the tower. One
of the largest collections in all of Basmentaria.</p>
<p>The Cyberplasms have breached the tower near its base and
are pouring into the Great Hall. You tune in just in time to
see a rail-thin, bald and mustachioed man standing defensively
in front of a display case. “No! You can’t!” he exclaims as a
disembodied sickle approaches him in a cloud of electricity
and ectoplasm.</p>
<p>Behind the glass in the display case is a bluish hunk of
rock the size of a melon, with gently pulsing gold veins.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Inky puts away the papers they caught in passing or picked
up along the path up to read later, including a number that
from a cursory glance appear to be from a culinary collection
and a few from some moth-eaten but finely illustrated
botanical tome, among others.</p>
<p>Eventually arriving at the hotel entrance, Inky enters and
manages to catch a frantic-looking attendant near the
reception to ask the whereabouts of the hotelier, indicating
they had a business appointment with said manager.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You walk in through the hotel’s main entrance. The grandeur
would take your breath away were it not for the shouting and
the smoke and the explosions coming from down the hall to your
right.</p>
<p>You wave down a passing hotel clerk and inquire after the
hotelier. They are hauling a large bucket of hot water, and
carrying an oversized bundle of clean towels under one arm.
They pause for a moment to look at you incredulously before
running off in the opposite direction.</p>
<p>A cry rings out nearby and a Cyberplasm flies through an
open door down the hallway. It lands in a heap of crackling
energy, smears of ectoplasm streaking the floor as though it
were bleeding heavily. It seems to be barely held together by
the energy stored in its cybernetic leg and a metal skull
plate.</p>
<p>It scoots backwards on its hands and its butt, trying to
stand up. Two toques leap out of the door after it. You
recognize Bread and Confidence right away.</p>
<p>Bread has obviously been to the kitchens. They are wearing
tin baking sheets and an oversized pot on their heard as
makeshift armor, and have a couple of dangerous looking
kitchen knives hanging from their belt. At the moment they are
swinging a large meat tenderizer over their head as though it
were a war hammer.</p>
<p>Confidence, meanwhile, has been to the gardener’s shed.
They are wearing a heavy leather apron and thick leather
gloves, and have a trowel in each hand, and a large hoe or
rake strapped to their back.</p>
<p>Bread lowers their hammer on Cyberplasms head, denting the
skull plate. And Confidence darts in and stabs with both hands
at the leg. As soon as the prosthetics go offline and the
plasmic arcs cease firing, there is nothing left holding the
ectoplasm together and the ghost kind of dissipates into the
air with a soft wail.</p>
<p>They look up and notice you at the same time, relaxing
their offensive stances. “Oh!” cries Bread. “It’s you!”</p>
<p>“You don’t happen,” asks Confidence, “to need a guide, do
you?”</p>
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
<p><a
href="https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00227.html">www</a></p>
]]>
</description>
</item>
<item>
<title>40</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">40 - Sun, 27 Nov 2022 01:30:42
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 14 Dec 2022 05:41:15 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[
<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>
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<title>38</title>
<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
<guid isPermaLink="false">38 - Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:25
-0700</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 14 Nov 2022 18:30:35 -0700</pubDate>
<description>
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<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>
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