247 lines
11 KiB
Markdown
247 lines
11 KiB
Markdown
---
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title: 00048
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created: Wed, 28 Dec 2022 16:08:10 -0700
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updated: Wed, 28 Dec 2022 16:08:12 -0700
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syndicated: yes
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public: yes
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---
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### 00048 {#00048}
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> Alex snatches up his new hemo friend cheering huzzah as he does.
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> We've got a pirate ship little guy!
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>
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> Rushing about the deck Alex quickly takes stock of what's left,
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> plenty of ammo, general supplies, fuel, perfectly provisioned for a
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> quick crystal kidnapping. Smart move pirates, but not smart enough.
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>
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> Alex heads to the helm and steadies the ship guiding it out and
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> away from the library, can't have any of the remaining cyberplasms
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> easily reboarding it now can we? Once the ship is out of range Alex
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> checks his S.T.A.G drone's twtxt feed for updates.
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>
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> ```
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Cyberplasm approaching crystal
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/gps> approx library, top level
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/audio> Cyberplasm threatens violence
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Inky, bread, confidence enter subvertly
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/video> Visual feed impaired due to unknown smog
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/audio> Angry tones, uncertain who
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> ```
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>
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> Not particularly helpful, and it rules out my first thought. I
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> could blindly fire the broadside canons into the library hoping to
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> hit the cyberplasm, but I'd be just as likely to hit Inky, Bread,
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> Confidence or any other innocent bystander. I've got to get a
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> message to her.
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>
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> Alex quickly dispatches a command to the S.T.A.G
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>
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> ```
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/cmd> Seek Inky
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> @<drone/fhsoa7483/relay> Secured ship, inform A.I of intentions, will coordinate rescue via the stolen ship
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> ```
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>
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> If all we've got is this, then we'd best be ready for a quick
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> rescue. Alex busies himself preparing a new zipline and mooring
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> lines. He then loads the boradside canons and the top deck swivel
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> canons. It'll need to be quick, but if I'm ready I can swing the
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> ship in close, deploy a zipline for Inky to zip down to the ship
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> with, and defend the retreat with the swivels. If everyone retreats
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> to the ship we can take a note from the pirates playbook and blast
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> them to hell with the broadsides while we make our retreat. Or
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> simply run I suppose, but I dislike the idea of leaving innocent
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> people to deal with angry pirates
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The hemogoblin cheers you on as you take possession of the airship,
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accidentally squirting a few jets of rust colored blood in its
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excitement. Must still be quite young. They don't gain full control
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of their blood sacs until well into adulthood.
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You check your S.T.A.G. drone's twtxt feeds. This A.I. seems
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especially reliable, you note with satisfaction. Its updates are
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regular and detailed. Even when there's not much to report.
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You load up the canons and take control of the helm. The hemogoblin
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stands at attention at the broadside canons with a cracklesparkler,
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ready to light the fuse at your command. You steer the ship a short
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distance away from the hotel, hopefully out of reach of the
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cyberplasms. But within range of your own canons and ziplines.
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> While Inky has the attention of both guides, they close the door
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> again until it is slightly ajar, and make a series of hand
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> gestures. First pointing at themselves, at their own forearm and
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> fist held stiffly to mimic the shape of the captain's arm cannon,
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> to indicate that Inky will handle the Cyberplasm. Then Inky points
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> the two fingers of a hand at Bread and Confidence, turns the two
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> fingers downward and swings them back and forth in opposite
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> directions to convey walking. This was followed by a single finger
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> pointing in the general direction they had last seen the hotelier;
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> then the finger hooks inward, the arm repeating a yanking motion
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> once or twice before ending the gesture with a thumb tossed over
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> their shoulder towards the hallway away from the staff entrance, to
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> ask them to get their boss out of the library to a safe spot.
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>
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> Without waiting for confirmation from the toques, Inky opens the
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> door, abruptly stops, turns and shoves a compostable bag of
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> mango-flavoured croutons at Bread, gives them a thumbs up in return
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> and a mildly disturbing, eye-crinkling smile behind their kerchief,
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> before slipping inside the smoky room. One hand is already pulling
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> out a thin, extendable metal walking pole with a carrying strap
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> visually resembling the type used by hikers from their courier bag
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> to check for obstacles amid the lowered visibility.
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Confidence watches all of your hand gestures closely, and then nods
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resolutely. They draw their large hoe, and turn and start to crouch
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run toward the main entrance to to the main hall of the library.
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Bread looks confused, but ready to follow Confidence. They grab their
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heavy meat tenderizer and crouch down in imitation of their fellow
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toque. Before they can run off, you shove a bag of croutons into
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their arms. "Small. Toasted. Bread," they intonate slowly in wonder.
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The confusion falls from their face as they break into a wide grin.
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"Now I'll never disappear without a trace," they laugh. They thank
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you and run like a duck after Confidence.
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> Inside, Inky lobs the empty glass vial that had held the
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> unpleasantly pungent organic catalyst at a spot the floor several
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> paces roughly from where the Cyberplasm — presumably the leader of
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> the group — had been standing earlier, in the opposite direction of
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> the staff entrance in an attempt to divert attention from the
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> hotelier's last location. As they edge along the wall towards the
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> tower stairs, walking pole looped over one hand, Inky grabs a few
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> small hardcover novellas from a wall shelf. Straightening from
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> their crouch, Inky tosses them one at a time horizontally in quick
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> succession like a discus, but without the full-body turning motion,
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> across the hall towards the sounds of frustrated groans and angry
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> muttering. The first starting higher around where a human head
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> might have once been, one at waist height and another at the
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> juncture below where ectoplasmic knees might meet prosthetic legs.
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You pick up three hardback novellas. If it wasn't so smoky, and if
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you weren't so much in the middle of a potentially life and death
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struggle with the Cyberplasm captain of a pirate airship, you might
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notice their titles: *Stop and Smell the Crystals*, *Living the
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Corn*, and *A Big Moon*.
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<!--
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NOTE: book titles generated by https://booktitlegenerator.com/
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//-->
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Anyway, you start flinging.
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<!--
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Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever cyber eye
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1: Things go poorly; gain 1 xp
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Spend xp to level up, Throwing 2
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//-->
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After you toss the catalyst, you can see a plasmic form heavily
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blurred and obscured by the smoke turn in that direction. You fling
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*Stop and Smell the Crystals* at it, and it spins like a discus and
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smashes into the pirate right in the face, above the chin. It howls
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and brings its hand to its face, and turns and charges up its arm
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cannon.
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<!--
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Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever arm canon
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5 (2): Success at cost
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//-->
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Mostly going on sound now, you fling *Living the Corn* at the
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pirate's moan and at the electric whine of the canon charging. You
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hear the canon discharge but the half-blind pirate fires wide. You
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see the flash of the energy blast hitting something, someone, else
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obscured by smoke in the middle distance between the two of you. A
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man screams out in pain. Right after the muffled thump of his body
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hitting the ground, you hear the clinking and ringing of something
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heavy and metallic striking and rolling across the floor.
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*Living on Corn* strikes the pirate in the elbow, and with a fizzle
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and a spark, the arm cannon sputters offline.
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<!--
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Inky rolls Do Anything 1 to sever cyber leg
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6 4: Great Success!
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//-->
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The pirate stumbles forward, half-lame and half-blind. It stoops and
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scoops up a heavy melon-sized object. It stomps its cybernetic boot,
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and small rockets spring out from small compartments on either side
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of its ankle. They start to fire up and the pirate is about to make
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its escape when *A Big Moon* hits it right above knee and severs the
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ghost's final connection to its final enhancement.
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It groans as it starts to dissipate, dropping the heavy object once
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more.
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"My crew, it is too late for me! I shall never have a new body now!
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But it's not too late for you! You must bring the quintessence to
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Mother!"
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And then the pirate's essence is diluted in the smoke filling the
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library.
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> At that moment Inky hears a very low whirring accompanied by
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> clicking sounds behind them and without glancing backwards, swings
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> the walking pole at the source of the buzzing. The stick collides
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> with something, sending it careening backwards with a light clatter
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> through what is likely a row of bookshelves around the area already
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> partially emptied of their contents. From the static noise that
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> ensues, Inky realises whatever it was may or may not have been one
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> of the wizard's bugs hovering in the shadows earlier or a
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> disembodied, ectoplasm-spewing prosthetic limb after all. Inky
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> calls out sheepishly, "Sorry, Young Master Alex! Was that yours?
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> Oops? Haha?" before smashing two more empty glass bottles as a
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> distraction for any remaining Cyberplasms lurking on the same
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> floor, and sprints up the tower stairs, using the banisters as a
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> guide.
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The Amber Imp is feverishly reporting all the goings on from inside
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the S.T.A.G. drone when Inky strikes its conveyance with their
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walking pole. The bug is destroyed on contact. The imp barely manages
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to fire off one final End Of Transmission post before ejecting from
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the craft, which sinks below like an exploded firework. It drifts on
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the currents of smoke and flows out through the hole in the wall into
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the open air outside. The imp falls through open space and starts to
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think back on its life. So much time and energy spent chasing its
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hopes and dreams, its goals and aspirations. So much of its life
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wasted in pursuit. Always reaching, never grasping. Is that all it
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gets? Is this the end? Did it ever really even get a chance to really
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live?
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These thoughts race through its head as it falls, but are cut short
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when it abruptly lands on a hard bed of cloudstuff. It tumbles and
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rolls and comes to a stop. And when it looks up, amazed to be alive
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and vowing to make the most of this second chance at life, it looks
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up into the benevolent smiling face of a pink zephynos.
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~
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Inky, you cross the floor to where the pirate had its last stand. You
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find what appears to be approximately one-fifth of the hotelier, and
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wonder idly where the rest of him might be. And you notice a
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conspicuous lack of Ginnarak Crystal.
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You do however notice a soft crunch underfoot. And when you bend down
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to inspect it---disorganized cyberplasms running amok in the smoke
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behind you---you discover a trail of mango flavored croutons leading
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across the hall to the tower stairs.
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You sprint up the stairs using the banisters as a guide. The
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breadcrumb trail ends on the seventh level, where Confidence sits
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slumped against the wall between two bookshelves. They have one arm
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around four-fifths of the hotelier, his shocked gaze telling you
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everything you need to know, that he is entirely dead but just
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doesn't know it yet. Their other arm is around Bread, who has
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suffered a massive wound to the chest and is only slightly more alive
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than the hotelier. On the ground between Confidence's legs is the
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Ginnarak Crystal. Several loose pages are stuck to its sides, held in
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place by drying blood and ectoplasm.
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Confidence looks at you and smiles wearily. "We left a trail for you.
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It was Bread's idea. They were a good guide."
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WHAT DO YOU DO
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[www](https://framalistes.org/sympa/arc/tildepals/2022-12/msg00250.html)
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