284 lines
13 KiB
Markdown
284 lines
13 KiB
Markdown
---
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title: 00072
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created: Fri, 10 Mar 2023 09:35:11 -0700
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updated: Fri, 10 Mar 2023 09:35:11 -0700
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public: yes
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syndicated: yes
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---
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### 00072 {#00072}
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> Alex grabs the envelope from in front of him and rushes to check on
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> Inky and Marvelo. "Are you two alright?" he asks as he notes the
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> patch job Inky performed. "Thank you Inky, I understand why my uncle
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> trusted you so much." he said sincerely. Inky was far better a healer
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> than Alex could ever hope to be.
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>
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> He steps away, noting there's not much he can do after Inky gives
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> their response. Marv is stable, but not much a talker at the moment.
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> He proceeds to check on the duck, the child Rind, and the hemogoblin.
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> The little hemogoblin burbbles happily and climbs up to sit on Alex's
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> shoulder, tugging lightly at the cord which suspended the gem Neddas
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> gave him, now worn around his neck. "Best not mess with that one
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> little one, I'm not sure what the hell just happened, but I don't
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> trust it. Or any of this eldritch mumbo jumbo.."
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>
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> Rind is quiet pensive, and doesn't respond much when Alex attempts to
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> interact. "Inky, do you think you can look after this one when you
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> get a second? I'm going to check on the sleeping bloke."
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>
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> Alex carefully makes his way back towards the circle, making sure not
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> to cross over it. He quietly inspects their unwelcomed guest.
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>
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> "I don't know who you think you are, but I ought to put a bullet
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> through your skull where you lay you sick son of a bitch. How dare
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> you sneak up on my friends like that." Alex racks his pistol, noting
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> there's a bullet in the chamber, and levels it at the silk assassin.
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> "Inky, unless you have objections, I'm going to tie up some loose
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> ends.." Alex says grimly.
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~
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> "It's just basic first aid, Master Alex. Any old adventuring sod on
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> the street can do it. Thank you for the thought, though." Inky
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> replies. "However, very few people can pull off what you just did.
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> That was a remarkable feat."
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>
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> They take a long look at the child, then beckon their marketing
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> manager closer, crouching down next to them to speak softly and
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> slowly to the child. "I guess you've already met duck. You're
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> friends, right? But did you know that duck is a really good listener?
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> Whenever you're sad or scared, you can tell duck. Duck always knows
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> what to do. If you let duck give you a hug, duck can help you feel
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> better too." They guide the child's hands to the duck's back and let
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> them rest there, watching for a moment as small, thin fingers begin
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> to stroke the feathers of their own accord.
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>
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> At the sysorcerer's direct address, they look over to him and their
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> slumbering visitor's form. "Do as you like, Master Alex." Inky says
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> tonelessly. They add in a low voice, "In all likelihood he will be
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> unable to cause trouble this side again. If he has not woken up now
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> that the candle's spell has broken, he probably never will. Maybe
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> justice has already been served, or the Scissorfolk got to him. Mercy
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> is an unpopular idea of late though, and I'm hardly in a position to
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> ask anyone to ponder its meaning."
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>
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> They frown at the body. "Speaking of which, the ever-resourceful case
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> manager has another proposal for you to consider, having gone as far
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> as to recruit a local celebrity you know well to speak to his cause.
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> His group, the Golden Iris, wants the crystals for the purpose of
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> conferring divinity upon the Corn Mother Sitopotnia and making
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> knowledge of the process available to all. No doubt he'll be
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> expecting a response to his offer soon. But I see you have already
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> made your choice." Inky offers the sysorcerer a resigned smile.
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>
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> The sound of tapping on glass interrupts Inky's next words. They look
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> in the direction of the window to see the scops owl outside with a
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> weatherproof pouch in its beak. Inky walks over to the window,
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> wedging it open just wide enough to allow the bird to hop in and
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> takes the pouch. A tiny smirk makes its way to Inky's face when they
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> return the owl's searching stare, despite an attempt to look stern
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> and failing. "He let you out, hmm? All right, in a minute," Inky
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> murmurs to the newly arrived messenger, while pulling out an envelope
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> from the pouch. As the small owl sets itself on the imp's right
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> shoulder like it belonged there, said imp half-turns to Master Alex,
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> expression serious again.
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>
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> "One more thing." They place the detonator, followed by the envelope,
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> on top of a stack of pillows a few paces from the sysorcerer. It is
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> identical in appearance to the one they had presented to Master
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> Corraidhín in the Dreaming.
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>
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> "Since you weren't at the meeting, I offered to take a message from
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> your uncle presumptive. Fuko's caretaker has a contraption that can
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> print copies of notes written on special paper after showing them to
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> the twins. It has come in handy on occasion in remote areas with few
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> or no amenities," Inky explains. "Anyway, I don't know if he wrote
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> anything, or if he was truly Master Corraidhín. Fuko handled the rest
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> and I didn't ask her amid the hustle. It could be a blank sheet and
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> everything I just said was probably a terrible joke. He did seem
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> genuinely glum you couldn't be there, though." They shrug. "You know
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> what to do from here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would very much
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> like some fresh air." With those parting words and walking stick in
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> hand, Inky strides quickly from the room, out of the dilapidated
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> building and into the drizzling rain.
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~
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> Alex gripped his pistol as Inky walked away, her words ringing in his
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> ears "you have already made your choice. The statement brings pause,
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> a flicker of doubt, and a frown mars Alex's face. As Inky shuts the
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> door behind her Alex lets out a discontented sigh, what was it Uncle
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> had said?
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>
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> "A man's fate, is wrought by his own hand"
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>
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> Alex looked at the sleeping man before him, the pistol in his hand,
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> Marvelo's blood spattered haphazardly across his gloves and trench
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> coat. Was more blood really the answer? Would killing this man right
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> the wrong done against Alex? Or his agents? Would their dangerous
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> game get any less dangerous?
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>
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> A single shot rang out from the warehouse, the bullet lodge
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> harmlessly amongst pillows and blankets. The pistol cast aside,
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> resting next to the bestilled assassin, with a small note afixed to
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> it.
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>
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> 'Your fate is wrought by your own hand, not mine. - Agent 4'
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>
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> Alex gathers himself, discontented, and pulls the letter Inky gave
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> him open. Inside was Uncle's familiar writing, in the simple cypher
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> he'd used when Alex was just a boy.
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>
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> ``` 4,
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>
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> I have only a moment to pen this, and I don't know if it'll reach
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> you, but I trust Inky will try.
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>
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> I am very much alive, rest assured, but the where I haven't yet
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> pieced together. Blavin has my physical and metaphysical form
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> trapped. And he has the second crystal.
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>
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> But don't worry, if you're looking as Inky claimed, I rest well
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> knowing my unrelenting rebel will raise hell itself to find me.
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>
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> Remember, son, we write our own fate.
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>
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> - 10
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> ```
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>
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> Alex shakes as he folds the letter back into the envelope and presses
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> it gently against his breast coat pocket. "I'm coming Uncle", he
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> whispers as he strides across the room and into the rainy night.
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>
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> He catches up with Inky a little down the dock, and comes to sit
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> beside her on the wharf. The patter of rain hitting heavily dampened
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> planks and stone resounding around them.
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>
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> "Inky.. thank you. For the letter, but also your friendship." Alex
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> casts a side long glance towards Inky, and he begins to describe his
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> dream sequence in a rambling sort of way. As he nears the end, "And
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> that Neddas gave me this stone, he said gesturing to the necklace he
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> wore. But I'd of told you it was bullshit before any of this
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> happened. And now you're telling me there are factions, Blavin, the
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> Benefactor, hell I guess us, all vying for control of these crystals.
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> I don't know what to do, or what any of it means, but I know we can
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> forge our own path in this, the rest of it be damned!"
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>
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> Alex sighs heavily. "I couldn't kill the assassin. He killed one of
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> my men, almost killed Marvelo. He'd of killed us if he hadn't gotten
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> caught in that magic. I don't know if I have it in me Inky, I'm not
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> sure I can keep staring into the abyss without tipping over the
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> edge."
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>
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> "Everything was a little easier when it was just the agency, hunting
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> down the bad guys. We had the data, knew the crimes. All of this
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> though?" he gestures broadly towards the sea in front of them "is
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> about as clear as a ship on these waters. There's no light to guide
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> us. And all I want is my Uncle back."
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>
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> Alex sighs heavily again and hands the envelope from Blavin to Inky,
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> "and it doesn't look like it ends here, Blavin wants us to head to
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> the moon, but I'm not so sure we should go.."
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~
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> The imp remains quiet for a long time, staring out into the open
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> sea.
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>
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> Eventually, Inky says, "I cannot tell you what to do."
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>
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> They look at the envelope but make no move to take it.
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>
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> "You already have the Fair One's blessing. Combined with your
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> talents, fortitude and determination, success is more or less
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> assured if you decide to go. If you decide not to, maybe Master
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> Corraidhín will turn up on his own again when he is sufficiently
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> recovered — if he does not run off to collect the remainder of the
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> crystals himself." Inky chuckles at that. "Master Alex is such a
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> thoughtful nephew, not wanting to deprive his uncle of his fun."
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>
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> They lean back on their hands and study Master Alex under
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> half-lidded eyes. "You really are like your uncle." A few beats
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> pass, and they turn their attention upwards to the sky, tilting
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> their head up towards the errant raindrops and cool winds blowing
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> in from across the waters.
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In the days that follow, you move Marvelo into the Milk Market to
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care for him during his recovery.
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The reclusive Blacksmith of Vay'Nullar (a dwrlugh who---as is
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traditional among its kind---refuses to go by any given name) makes a
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rare appearance outside of its forge to present Marvelo with a new
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artificial jaw made of polished granite and bronze. An exquisite gift
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that more than settles an old debt owed from an adventure the two of
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them shared long ago.
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It will never be mistaken for flesh, but it does somewhat complement
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the golden tones of Marvelo's skin. With the skill of a surgeon, and
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a level of craftmanship unique to the dwrlugh, the Blacksmith affixes
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the jaw to Marvelo's bones with small metal screws, and lengthens and
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sews his muscles to the contraption so that it operates naturally,
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just like the real thing.
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Marvelo grows stronger as the days go by. His recovery is no doubt
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accelerated by the hemogoblin, who provides ample transfusions and
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refuses to leave his bed. Confidence and Bread continue to help out
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around the place, and take turns checking in on him.
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Though he will ever be physically scarred by his encounter with the
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Nyxmaer, Marvelo soon enough is able to eat and drink on his own.
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Soon after that he is puttering around the Milk Market and growing
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restless at his confinement.
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Kasutva falls in with Quack and Clot and attains the rank of Milk
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Market Mascot. They have a better command of language than their
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companions. And, being an escapee dream entity, at times behaves a
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little alien, inscrutible, and other-wordly. They don't sleep, for
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example. And every morning they demand a full recounting of
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everybody's dreams, omitting nothing, and sometimes requiring up to
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three retellings of each dream. But they otherwise settle right right
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in.
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Another curious presence in the Milk Market is Rind. The orphaned
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child of Pepo the melon vendor. Abandoned by his mother. Adopted by
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Gliftwirp the assassin. The child has still not uttered a word the
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entire time. Rind and the duck have formed an inseparable bond.
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Apparently becoming a conjoined host for a living dentophiliac
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nightmare will do that. Whenever you least suspect it, you'll turn
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around to find Rind standing behind you, silent, wide-eyed, and
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watching. Cradling the duck in his arms and stroking its feathers.
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Gliftwirp has still not responded to any attempts to wake him. The
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toques have assumed responsibility for sustaining him through his
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unnatural slumber. Feeding him broth, and carrying him outside now
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and then for fresh air and sunshine. More kindness than Alex is
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comfortable with, no doubt. Rind visits him often in the storage
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closet where his cot is set up. Keeping a silent, watchful vigil.
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Rind's apparent affection for the assassin is actually probably the
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only reason Gliftwirp is shown any compassion whatsoever by Team 43.
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Your next mission looms ahead of you. Putting your heads together
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with Marvelo and Confidence, you agree that the most simple way
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forward will be to use the pirate balloonship currently docked above
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the Market. It is straight-forward enough to retrofit it with a
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portable atmosphere (which will provide you with breathable oxygen
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and gravity) and a starhelm (which will allow you to pilot the ship
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through the void of space). Both items can be obtained in Vay'Nullar
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for a reasonable price.
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The only thing holding you back at this point is your own
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reservations about the various interested parties and their
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motivations.
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Do you help the Golden Iris create a new god? Or do you help an
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existing, exiled god return to Basmentaria? And then who knows what
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the mysterious Benefactor's plans are?
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Whatever your answer, there's one thing you know: If you don't get
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moving soon, the next Ginnarak Crystal will fall into somebody else's
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hands.
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WHAT DO YOU DO
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