7.5 KiB
| title | created | updated | public | syndicated |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 00017 | Mon, 26 Sep 2022 16:20:16 -0600 | Mon, 26 Sep 2022 16:20:16 -0600 | yes | yes |
00017
While Inky packs the top of a sack with a thin layer of earth from under a loose rock, they feel a heated glare in their general direction for a few beats and surmises Master Corraidhín had entered the vault with his newfound companion. After decades of serving rather … demanding customers as an inkling, Inky knew an evil eye directed at them even when they can't see it (while preparing a brew with their back turned, for instance) and makes a mental note to give Pointy a wide berth.
Once the sacks were placed close to the vault entrance for a quick haul, Inky returns to the items that had been discovered while digging under the loose rock. The set of gold-nibbed quills were swiftly pocketed — each quill was finely crafted and felt balanced when held in one hand. The malleable tips in a range of sizes would be invaluable for testing ink viscosity and smoothness, among other properties. A felicitously fantastic find!
The jade tea set was next to be admired, its deep green hue reflecting the age of the stone from which the items were carved. With cups for every member of their merry group, the teapot would make a worthy addition to any travelling, crystal-seeking tea party. So thin and translucent were the small cups, having been expertly crafted, that they were almost too fragile to carry around everywhere. A non-shattering charm was often applied to heirloom sets meant to be passed down through generations, but it is difficult to tell by looking whether a set had been charmed unless the spell was a particularly strong one. The teapot and cups were returned to the small wooden box they were found in and stored away. Perhaps a few crockery talismans could be procured at the next town?
Inky pauses at the rack of bottled ink. The first rule that any inkling in training learns is to never trust pre-bottled inks from unverified ingredients or unknown sauces. Inky tilts the rack to better examine the weird yet vaguely familiar glyphs on the bottles.
The first glyph was a circle with three dots. The bottle next to it was adorned with a swirl, followed by a bottle with a circle surrounding a pointing hand or a snail. Another glyph looked like a twisted hook, and was that some sort of sinister grinning reptile on the next one?? Towards the middle of the rack was a bottle with a glyph of what could be a mountain with a tunnel at its base. The bottle beside it bore a glyph of a block broken to three pieces. Yet another bottle was simply stamped with a circle and a dot at its center. Its neighbour held a glyph that slightly resembled a mountain range if someone stared very hard. The next two bottles bore glyphs that looked like a spiky fish and a circle with a pair of horns protruding from it. The last bottle's contents seemed more gooey than the others, with a glyph of a helmet-wearing hare.
The shade of ink within the bottles varied, but all seem to be derived from the same indistinct hue. None of the bottles had the usual piece of ash paper with bits of string attached to them, but otherwise appear to be intact and the vessels themselves top quality, as shown by the delicate tarring on the caps. The wooden rack was lightly worn but solid in Inky's hands.
It was certainly an odd collection. "No hash, no stash" though, as the rule of thumb goes. Inky puts the rack down carefully on the floor by the sacks, concluding that if anyone wanted to help themselves to the bottles, they were hopefully not planning to ingest the contents.
Dusting off their boots, Inky settles just behind the banner, closer to the vault entrance and rousing performance, to watch the crowd around Jarrod and listen for any sounds from outside the vault.
You pack up the quills and the jade tea set, and arrange the bags by the vault entrance for quick retrieval.
As you carry the rack of ink bottles over to the bags, the twelfth and final ink bottle, the one with the glyph of the helmet-wearing hare, suddenly cracks. Seemingly of its own volition. A tiny shard of glass slices the palm of your hand and disappears into the meat at the base of your thumb. The gooey ink seeps out of the bottle and paints your hand a muddy, rusty blue.
You jerk your hand back. The ink is swiftly absorbed into your hand as though it were a sponge. Soon it's all gone: the ink, the blood, all of it. Nothing remains of the scratch itself but a hair-thin line. If you run your finger over it, you can feel the hard nub of the glass shard beneath the skin.
For a moment you can hear the double drum of your own heartbeat rushing through your ears. Your senses seem to sharpen. Colors grow more crisp, and sounds more clear. But then it passes, and the moment is gone.
Harrumph, pointy my friend, that's just inky. They're definitely not super evil. That's the finest ink craftsmen and tea preparer this side of Basementaria. And we absolutely won't be stabbing them. There are FAR eviler things to stab, potentially that weird naked thing that seems to think itself a horse. I could be convinced IT was evil, but wouldn't use attacking it unprovoked make us evil? Surely a sword as ancient and wise as you could see the perfectly puzzling philosophical delimna we put ourselves in.
And then this thing, (corraidhin gestures at the crystal), horrible magical item used to create untold death, destruction, and mayhem during the last Artificer war. Definitely probably evil, if used that way, but also filled with untold power that could be used for good! Now would the person weilding it be evil just because, or could someone overcome the magical nature of a device capable of such evil and apply them for good? I for one believe afirmatively that one can overcome such things.
As corriadhin finishes his philosophical prattling to his new stabby friend he pushes the glass case off the crystal and grabs it.
The Sword of Yam'l starts to launch into a long winded reply.
Oh yes, that winged naked thing is surely evil. Let us stab it, Hardy Bear! Let us stab and stab and stab until --- What's that? Oh no, don't worry. We are unquestionably, infallibly good. I was designed and made for but one purpose, after all. TO RID EVIL! As for the crystal, yes, I suppose you are correct. Wielding a powerful, bloodthirsty, magical item probably does make the wielder evil, and consequently immediately deserving of being stabbed! Say, speaking of stabbing ... that naked, winged thing--
But then, before the sword can finish its thought (a thought, you are quite confident, would end with something like, "let's stab it!") you knock the glass dome off the pedestal and grab the Ginnarak Crystal.
You brace yourself. It thrums slightly in your hand but doesn't do anything overtly magical or destructive. In fact it seems perfectly inert.
So there you are. A pointer murder stick attached firmly to one hand, and a potential atom bomb of a crystal in the other. But you think you're totally going to pull this off!
Then the glass dome hits the ground and shatters into dozens of pieces.
HORSE screams and whips around at the noise. "BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! My blue and gold melon sized gem! Noooooo! BrUHrhHHHURHuRu!"
It flaps its wings and wheels up into the air and swoops down at you! The three aurs get swept up in the excitement and start flapping around, making tiny squeaks of alarm. The remaining kobit leaps to its feet, but then trips over its shoelaces.
WHAT DO YOU DO??