quest/src/epistolary/00072.md

title	created	updated	public	syndicated
00072	Fri, 10 Mar 2023 09:35:11 -0700	Fri, 10 Mar 2023 09:35:11 -0700	yes	yes

00072

Alex grabs the envelope from in front of him and rushes to check on Inky and Marvelo. "Are you two alright?" he asks as he notes the patch job Inky performed. "Thank you Inky, I understand why my uncle trusted you so much." he said sincerely. Inky was far better a healer than Alex could ever hope to be.

He steps away, noting there's not much he can do after Inky gives their response. Marv is stable, but not much a talker at the moment. He proceeds to check on the duck, the child Rind, and the hemogoblin. The little hemogoblin burbbles happily and climbs up to sit on Alex's shoulder, tugging lightly at the cord which suspended the gem Neddas gave him, now worn around his neck. "Best not mess with that one little one, I'm not sure what the hell just happened, but I don't trust it. Or any of this eldritch mumbo jumbo.."

Rind is quiet pensive, and doesn't respond much when Alex attempts to interact. "Inky, do you think you can look after this one when you get a second? I'm going to check on the sleeping bloke."

Alex carefully makes his way back towards the circle, making sure not to cross over it. He quietly inspects their unwelcomed guest.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I ought to put a bullet through your skull where you lay you sick son of a bitch. How dare you sneak up on my friends like that." Alex racks his pistol, noting there's a bullet in the chamber, and levels it at the silk assassin. "Inky, unless you have objections, I'm going to tie up some loose ends.." Alex says grimly.

~

"It's just basic first aid, Master Alex. Any old adventuring sod on the street can do it. Thank you for the thought, though." Inky replies. "However, very few people can pull off what you just did. That was a remarkable feat."

They take a long look at the child, then beckon their marketing manager closer, crouching down next to them to speak softly and slowly to the child. "I guess you've already met duck. You're friends, right? But did you know that duck is a really good listener? Whenever you're sad or scared, you can tell duck. Duck always knows what to do. If you let duck give you a hug, duck can help you feel better too." They guide the child's hands to the duck's back and let them rest there, watching for a moment as small, thin fingers begin to stroke the feathers of their own accord.

At the sysorcerer's direct address, they look over to him and their slumbering visitor's form. "Do as you like, Master Alex." Inky says tonelessly. They add in a low voice, "In all likelihood he will be unable to cause trouble this side again. If he has not woken up now that the candle's spell has broken, he probably never will. Maybe justice has already been served, or the Scissorfolk got to him. Mercy is an unpopular idea of late though, and I'm hardly in a position to ask anyone to ponder its meaning."

They frown at the body. "Speaking of which, the ever-resourceful case manager has another proposal for you to consider, having gone as far as to recruit a local celebrity you know well to speak to his cause. His group, the Golden Iris, wants the crystals for the purpose of conferring divinity upon the Corn Mother Sitopotnia and making knowledge of the process available to all. No doubt he'll be expecting a response to his offer soon. But I see you have already made your choice." Inky offers the sysorcerer a resigned smile.

The sound of tapping on glass interrupts Inky's next words. They look in the direction of the window to see the scops owl outside with a weatherproof pouch in its beak. Inky walks over to the window, wedging it open just wide enough to allow the bird to hop in and takes the pouch. A tiny smirk makes its way to Inky's face when they return the owl's searching stare, despite an attempt to look stern and failing. "He let you out, hmm? All right, in a minute," Inky murmurs to the newly arrived messenger, while pulling out an envelope from the pouch. As the small owl sets itself on the imp's right shoulder like it belonged there, said imp half-turns to Master Alex, expression serious again.

"One more thing." They place the detonator, followed by the envelope, on top of a stack of pillows a few paces from the sysorcerer. It is identical in appearance to the one they had presented to Master Corraidhín in the Dreaming.

"Since you weren't at the meeting, I offered to take a message from your uncle presumptive. Fuko's caretaker has a contraption that can print copies of notes written on special paper after showing them to the twins. It has come in handy on occasion in remote areas with few or no amenities," Inky explains. "Anyway, I don't know if he wrote anything, or if he was truly Master Corraidhín. Fuko handled the rest and I didn't ask her amid the hustle. It could be a blank sheet and everything I just said was probably a terrible joke. He did seem genuinely glum you couldn't be there, though." They shrug. "You know what to do from here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would very much like some fresh air." With those parting words and walking stick in hand, Inky strides quickly from the room, out of the dilapidated building and into the drizzling rain.

~

Alex gripped his pistol as Inky walked away, her words ringing in his ears "you have already made your choice. The statement brings pause, a flicker of doubt, and a frown mars Alex's face. As Inky shuts the door behind her Alex lets out a discontented sigh, what was it Uncle had said?

"A man's fate, is wrought by his own hand"

Alex looked at the sleeping man before him, the pistol in his hand, Marvelo's blood spattered haphazardly across his gloves and trench coat. Was more blood really the answer? Would killing this man right the wrong done against Alex? Or his agents? Would their dangerous game get any less dangerous?

A single shot rang out from the warehouse, the bullet lodge harmlessly amongst pillows and blankets. The pistol cast aside, resting next to the bestilled assassin, with a small note afixed to it.

'Your fate is wrought by your own hand, not mine. - Agent 4'

Alex gathers himself, discontented, and pulls the letter Inky gave him open. Inside was Uncle's familiar writing, in the simple cypher he'd used when Alex was just a boy.

I have only a moment to pen this, and I don't know if it'll reach
you, but I trust Inky will try.

I am very much alive, rest assured, but the where I haven't yet
pieced together. Blavin has my physical and metaphysical form
trapped. And he has the second crystal.

But don't worry, if you're looking as Inky claimed, I rest well
knowing my unrelenting rebel will raise hell itself to find me.

Remember, son, we write our own fate.

- 10

Alex shakes as he folds the letter back into the envelope and presses it gently against his breast coat pocket. "I'm coming Uncle", he whispers as he strides across the room and into the rainy night.

He catches up with Inky a little down the dock, and comes to sit beside her on the wharf. The patter of rain hitting heavily dampened planks and stone resounding around them.

"Inky.. thank you. For the letter, but also your friendship." Alex casts a side long glance towards Inky, and he begins to describe his dream sequence in a rambling sort of way. As he nears the end, "And that Neddas gave me this stone, he said gesturing to the necklace he wore. But I'd of told you it was bullshit before any of this happened. And now you're telling me there are factions, Blavin, the Benefactor, hell I guess us, all vying for control of these crystals. I don't know what to do, or what any of it means, but I know we can forge our own path in this, the rest of it be damned!"

Alex sighs heavily. "I couldn't kill the assassin. He killed one of my men, almost killed Marvelo. He'd of killed us if he hadn't gotten caught in that magic. I don't know if I have it in me Inky, I'm not sure I can keep staring into the abyss without tipping over the edge."

"Everything was a little easier when it was just the agency, hunting down the bad guys. We had the data, knew the crimes. All of this though?" he gestures broadly towards the sea in front of them "is about as clear as a ship on these waters. There's no light to guide us. And all I want is my Uncle back."

Alex sighs heavily again and hands the envelope from Blavin to Inky, "and it doesn't look like it ends here, Blavin wants us to head to the moon, but I'm not so sure we should go.."

~

The imp remains quiet for a long time, staring out into the open sea.

Eventually, Inky says, "I cannot tell you what to do."

They look at the envelope but make no move to take it.

"You already have the Fair One's blessing. Combined with your talents, fortitude and determination, success is more or less assured if you decide to go. If you decide not to, maybe Master Corraidhín will turn up on his own again when he is sufficiently recovered — if he does not run off to collect the remainder of the crystals himself." Inky chuckles at that. "Master Alex is such a thoughtful nephew, not wanting to deprive his uncle of his fun."

They lean back on their hands and study Master Alex under half-lidded eyes. "You really are like your uncle." A few beats pass, and they turn their attention upwards to the sky, tilting their head up towards the errant raindrops and cool winds blowing in from across the waters.

In the days that follow, you move Marvelo into the Milk Market to care for him during his recovery.

The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay'Nullar (a dwrlugh who---as is traditional among its kind---refuses to go by any given name) makes a rare appearance outside of its forge to present Marvelo with a new artificial jaw made of polished granite and bronze. An exquisite gift that more than settles an old debt owed from an adventure the two of them shared long ago.

It will never be mistaken for flesh, but it does somewhat complement the golden tones of Marvelo's skin. With the skill of a surgeon, and a level of craftmanship unique to the dwrlugh, the Blacksmith affixes the jaw to Marvelo's bones with small metal screws, and lengthens and sews his muscles to the contraption so that it operates naturally, just like the real thing.

Marvelo grows stronger as the days go by. His recovery is no doubt accelerated by the hemogoblin, who provides ample transfusions and refuses to leave his bed. Confidence and Bread continue to help out around the place, and take turns checking in on him.

Though he will ever be physically scarred by his encounter with the Nyxmaer, Marvelo soon enough is able to eat and drink on his own. Soon after that he is puttering around the Milk Market and growing restless at his confinement.

Kasutva falls in with Quack and Clot and attains the rank of Milk Market Mascot. They have a better command of language than their companions. And, being an escapee dream entity, at times behaves a little alien, inscrutible, and other-wordly. They don't sleep, for example. And every morning they demand a full recounting of everybody's dreams, omitting nothing, and sometimes requiring up to three retellings of each dream. But they otherwise settle right right in.

Another curious presence in the Milk Market is Rind. The orphaned child of Pepo the melon vendor. Abandoned by his mother. Adopted by Gliftwirp the assassin. The child has still not uttered a word the entire time. Rind and the duck have formed an inseparable bond. Apparently becoming a conjoined host for a living dentophiliac nightmare will do that. Whenever you least suspect it, you'll turn around to find Rind standing behind you, silent, wide-eyed, and watching. Cradling the duck in his arms and stroking its feathers.

Gliftwirp has still not responded to any attempts to wake him. The toques have assumed responsibility for sustaining him through his unnatural slumber. Feeding him broth, and carrying him outside now and then for fresh air and sunshine. More kindness than Alex is comfortable with, no doubt. Rind visits him often in the storage closet where his cot is set up. Keeping a silent, watchful vigil. Rind's apparent affection for the assassin is actually probably the only reason Gliftwirp is shown any compassion whatsoever by Team 43.

Your next mission looms ahead of you. Putting your heads together with Marvelo and Confidence, you agree that the most simple way forward will be to use the pirate balloonship currently docked above the Market. It is straight-forward enough to retrofit it with a portable atmosphere (which will provide you with breathable oxygen and gravity) and a starhelm (which will allow you to pilot the ship through the void of space). Both items can be obtained in Vay'Nullar for a reasonable price.

The only thing holding you back at this point is your own reservations about the various interested parties and their motivations.

Do you help the Golden Iris create a new god? Or do you help an existing, exiled god return to Basmentaria? And then who knows what the mysterious Benefactor's plans are?

Whatever your answer, there's one thing you know: If you don't get moving soon, the next Ginnarak Crystal will fall into somebody else's hands.

WHAT DO YOU DO