quest/src/epistolary/00056.md

title	created	updated	public	syndicated
00056	Mon, 16 Jan 2023 14:10:25 -0700	Mon, 16 Jan 2023 14:10:25 -0700	yes	yes

00056

The agitation Alex feels bubbles just beneath the surface. Patterns where patterns shouldn't be, strange orders from HQ, indifference where once was ample aide as well. It was maddening. Combine it all with the haunting suspicion that there was constantly someone just around the next corner, and it was enough to truly drive Alex mad.

That uneasiness takes its toll on a long enough time line, but Alex wasn't about to let it get to him. Or so he thought to himself as he cast a furtive look at his monitoring equipment. This paranoia had served him well in the past, very well in fact. It's a sort of sixth sense in a way, always kept Alex off the edge of the cliff, especially when someone stepped close enough to push him off. Those were the types of skills HQ sought after in the first place.

Alex closes the iron door on his bunker, leaving his monitoring equipment running, dead man's trigger set to blow the place shoul anyone enter it. Can't be too careful these days..

Emerging from the sewer grate, sticking to the shadows, Alex makes his way down an alley, then another, and yet another, finally emerging a few blocks from the Milk Market. Across the street, as he had expected, was Marvelo's Marvelous MurderSticks, a quaint place should one needed something, well you get the picture, they don't really sell anything but weaponry here.

Alex ducked into the entrance of the shop and strode towards the back rack, where a collection of knives was on display. A rough looking fellow, ruddy red beard, thinning hair, moved from the counter as he saw Alex approach. "Fine sampling of knives we have, could I interest you in one?" Marvelo says. Alex reaches for a thin stilleto style dagger, and hands it to Marvelo "This one seems about right, but I'd like an extra sharp edge put on it, if you don't mind". Marvelo takes the stilleto from Alex say "Not a problem at all sir", and he heads into the back.

He sets to work honing the edge, and once complete he places it on his work bench. Grabbing a velvet lined case from a stack, he deftly removes the bottom and places a rolled piece of paper into the bottom, alongside an m1911 style pistol, and a couple of clips of ammo. He then places the velvet bottom back over the equipment, and places the stilleto on top, bringing the entire package back to the front. "An extra fine edge on this one sir, that'll be 15 gold, plus another 5 to cover the service.

Alex pays, and nips out the shop and heads back to the back alley. Paranoia begets what it requets, Alex mutters to himself as he disassembles the box holstering the pistol and ammo, and sheathing the dagger. Can't keep going unarmed like I'm some kind of beat cop, not anymore.. Alex discards the case and unfurls the message, quickly deciphering the encryption set on it by Marvelo.

The hunt is still on, no word on Blavin nor the Iris group, yet.
Agent 7 heard rumor of a couple of persons inquiring about the "Milk Market" these past few days.
Agent 3 heard similar rumors, was able to bribe a melon vendor to acertain the figure wore a red sash, and was looking for friends.
Agent 6 has kept watch on the Market, nothing strange yet, coming and goings as usual, no strange visitors
Agent 4 monitoring feeds still present glitches, something abnormal
Agent 5 found the melon vendor dead in a back alley, strangled to death, not immediate signs of blunt force trauma, caution advised

Alex burned the note, striding rapidly away from the alley, taking a meandering route away from the Milk Market, looping back around, and heading back towards it by yet another. Nobody appeared to be following him, yet he paused at each corner and turn, waiting for the footsteps of a pursuant.

Noting nothing, he made his way through the back entrance of Enrique's Empanadas greeting the cook quietly, but jovial. "Enrique, where's Inky? We've got a problem."

~

Inky skims the page. They thank the witch, pay for the items and exit the shop, promptly discarding all notions of meeting Bother at the place stipulated on the note.

(Half and one hour later)

One-sixths into a caramel cantaloupe cream cornet, Inky runs into Confidence outside the Wandering Bazaar and obtains some of their new pamphlets, minted with luminescent ink for the convenience of late-night tourists. These are subsequently hare-mailed to every editor at the Niuewstijl office, which is almost certain to earn another chiding remark from Tess about etiquette and the handling of unsolicited bulk mail to parent editorial teams.

(Half and two hours later)

The installation on display at the Milk Market was grotesque — that is to say, a work of beauty. Inky steps carefully through the rooms to not disturb the piece. Afterwards, they sign the guestbook set up on an upturned milk crate by the door, delightedly pasting rows of horse head and thumbs-up emo Gs on a page thoughtfully titled "you can't ed the unedible".

(Half and three hours earlier)

Thanking Agate for her time, Inky passes her a sheet of paper on which were written a few questions about the prescribed ritual, with some space after each question should the witch prefer to scribble a response:

• What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk typically seek in return for directing travellers to the correct pocket dimension?

• An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the establishment while it is open?

• Who are the Red Spider and "Dude 215R" mentioned in the ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them?

• Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up?

(Half and four hours later)

Two sets of eyes peer down at the contents of an open tin. One accompanied by a focused look and a little trepidation, following the pinkish, flesh-like chunks speckled with white pockets of fat as they tumble into a hot pan and almost immediately begin to move of their own accord. The moving mounds resemble small round mouths opening, each with a rim of sharp teeth. The other pair of eyes belongs to a grinning face that beams when the mounds bloom into bright red flat caps, the edges beneath about to soften in the olive oil.

Minutes after, The slices are ready. Inky accepts the plate of tostada with spicy pickled artichoke mushrooms and tomatoes with a murmur of thanks. Reassembling the recipe for the tinned spicy artichoke mushrooms had been a tedious process — someone had ripped out the pages from an old pickling book that had long ceased publication. Eventually Inky found a former nomad who had eaten them for two years in their youth and could recall or somewhat describe the taste. Flowery and savoury, they said. Many taste tests later, it turned out to be closer to partially decomposed cheese in ponderosa lemon juice. Canning was fortuitously easier with the increasing portability of sealers. Rather than telling the empanada chef any of this, Inky watches satisfaction slowly spread across his face. The tale that follows is far more entertaining.

(Half and five hours later)

While measuring out ingredients for the forty-second tea infusion since the start of the missions, not that Inky was keeping a close count, they hear a familiar voice a short distance outside the door asking for their whereabouts. Without pausing in their whisking, Inky simply informs the owner of the voice they're not here, obviously, before emerging from the storage pantry with a fresh pot and bowls on a wooden tray, and greets the returning sysorcerer.

Agate writes back quickly:

What do guides in the Sea of Dreams and the Ravenfolk typically seek in return for directing travellers to the correct pocket dimension?

Intangibles. Usually memories, hopes, or dreams.

An establishment inside the Bazaar is only open in the evenings whenever it appears in the city. How long does travel to a pocket dimension typically take, allowing for time to seek out a guide? Is there a way travellers can estimate the time to set out on their journey, in order to arrive at the establishment while it is open?

You'll find that time is rather malleable on the Otherside. You'll likely arrive exactly when you're meant to. No need to worry too much about it.

Who are the Red Spider and "Dude 215R" mentioned in the ritual? How can travellers avoid summoning them?

Godforms manifested by the Linking Sigil and the Dream Sigil, respectively. It's not terrible if they show up. But it's definitely not ideal. You shouldn't register on their radar as long as you don't pump too much energy into, or siphon to much energy out of, the sigils. If they do show up, just know that you're in the presence of a godlike power, and behave accordingly.

Would anything happen to the travellers if any of the sigils were removed during the ritual before they wake up?

If the sigils are removed or if the circle is broken, you'll likely just wake up before you wanted to. Same goes for if your dreamform is destroyed while in the Dreaming. The only real danger you may encounter is the Scissormen and their ilk. They will attempt to permanently sever your dreamform from your waking body. Which would leave your body a soulless husk, and leave your consciousness adrift in the Sea of Dreams. But that probably won't happen! Okay good luck, have fun!

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