599 lines
36 KiB
XML
599 lines
36 KiB
XML
<?xml version="1.0" ?>
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<rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
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<channel>
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<atom:link href="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
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<title>BASEMENT QWEST</title>
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<link>https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/rss.xml</link>
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<description>Friends having ADVENTURES! Huzzah!</description>
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<item>
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<title>54</title>
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<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">54 - Tue, 03 Jan 2023 16:12:08
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-0700</guid>
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<pubDate>Wed, 04 Jan 2023 08:18:44 -0700</pubDate>
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<description>
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<![CDATA[
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<h3 id="00054">00054</h3>
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<blockquote>
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<p>Once back in the Milk Bar, with the airship safely anchored
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to the roof of the building, Alex finds himself amongst the
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old belongings of his former uncle.</p>
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<p><em>sigh</em> “Best get a request to HQ for this airship,
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maybe they’ll let us operate it for a bit, if not I suppose we
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have to impound it..”</p>
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<pre><code><- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
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-> OP 25120 * LOC ESPER
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CLEARANCE: INFORMATIONAL
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REQUEST ENCLOSED.
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REQUESTING PERMISSION TO IMPOUND OR OPERATE.
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ONE CYBERPLASM AIRSHIP "The Rusty Maiden"</code></pre>
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<p>“There’s also the matter of this little hemogoblin..” Alex
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mutters to himself while said hemogoblin happily dances around
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the room, dripping little pools of blood hither and
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tither.</p>
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<pre><code><- OP 2817 * LOC MB-A
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-> OP 41154 * LOC ESPER
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CLEARANCE: TOP SECRET
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REQUEST ENCLOSED
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PACKET ENCLOSED
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REQUESTING ANALYSIS
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ONE GDB @gdb-readout.dat
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TWO BLOOD @blood-soaked-handkerchief
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NOTE GDB INDICATES SOME ANOMALY</code></pre>
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<p>“Hey little guy, lets go get an empanade. Inky says they’re
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divine.” Alex says as he scoops up the little goblin and
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gently carries him downstairs.”</p>
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<p>Striding into Enriques kitchen, and availing himself to the
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empanadas, ignoring an indignant Enrique’s protests that these
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were for paying customers until a small bag of coins is tossed
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careless over one shoulder. Alex stride through the kitchen
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and then out and away into the garden to enjoy their pilfered
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treats.</p>
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<p>“I suppose this is more interesting than being on the force
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at times”</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>~</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>Inky stepped into the toques’ cabin below deck with a tray
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of turmeric ginger tea and lavender biscuits. After checking
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on Bread’s bandages and offering the toque reclined on the
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berth the last bag of mango croutons — or at least the last
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one for the next two hours — Inky perched on a wooden barrel
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across from where Confidence sat on a creaking old chair next
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to the bunk and spoke. “We’ll be landing in about an hour and
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getting Bread to a medical facility. You can stay with him
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while he heals and rest up.”</p>
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<p>They paused to take a long sip from their cup, as if the
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liquid was being used to summon their next words. “On behalf
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of myself and the party, I apologise for the … disruption, and
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for what had befallen the hotelier. As you may have already
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noticed, we’re a fair distance away from the Peak and will be
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arriving in Vay’Nullar soon. This airship was taken over from
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the cyberplasms in the course of getting the crystal out and
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the injured to a safe location, and her new captain could
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hardly fly it back straight into the pirates’ hands now.</p>
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<p>What we propose is this: you and Bread may take as long as
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you need to recover. We can arrange for lodgings and new posts
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in the city. One of our party runs a Milk Market that could
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certainly use some hired help, and a garden in the back that
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would benefit from more attention. Pay will be double your
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current salary at the hotel. Master Alex may also recruit you
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for other tasks. You don’t need to have an answer just yet —
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think on it for a bit while you rest and let us know.
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Afterwards, if you find that you still wish to return to
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Kelsun Peak, we will pay for travel.”</p>
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<p>Inky winked at Bread conspiratorially. “You may be
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interested to know there is a bakery on the Milk Market’s
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first floor. If you like the look of the place, perhaps we can
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convince the chef to take on an assistant.”</p>
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<p>~</p>
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<p>Tess watched her adviser from her position on one end of
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the plush chaise lounge in her office, who returned her stare
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impassively as they sat in the adjoining armchair to her
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right. The ornate coffee table before them had been laid out
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for tea, but the other cup remained untouched, which was in
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itself unusual. Ink rarely turned down tea when it was
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offered, which likely meant they were preoccupied with
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something they were unwilling to discuss. This had been
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happening more frequently since their plans to intercept the
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Ginnarak Crystals, which was a little concerning, but she knew
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it would be no use to question them directly. The missive she
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had received this time through Piskin’s people was brief,
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almost annoyingly so, but they had returned earlier than
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expected with the articles that production had requested,
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which had fortunately made up for lost time from the previous
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delays.</p>
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<p>With this in mind, she settled on a lighter note as she
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picked up her own teacup. “Salvia passed on the items to the
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production team. Thank you for picking them up from the
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Runesocesius. I would send my regular couriers but they are
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tied up with another event. One of them had to care for their
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sick child and couldn’t leave the city. As usual, time and
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discretion are of the essence.”</p>
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<p>When her adviser only nodded, she continued. “How is he? He
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probably insisted on bringing the manuscripts out for you
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himself. The man is cautious with valuables.”</p>
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<p>“Quite dead but managing, or so I heard.” Ink intoned
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drily.</p>
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<p>Tess caught on immediately. “Didn’t you meet with him? The
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message only mentioned the items had been obtained. Did
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something happen?”</p>
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<p>The imp shrugged. “We met, I delivered the letter and
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collected the items. We didn’t get a chance to talk.”</p>
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<p>The hotel was slowly but steadily attracting visitors
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again, especially after their last play had prominently
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featured the Runesocesius Library as a research partner in the
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programme credits, but Tess didn’t think the hotelier was so
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busy as to entrust this task to one of his underlings. The man
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was proud of the first editions the library had amassed, and
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the notebooks of Lucidieau that the playwright sought as a
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reference were no doubt counted among the treasures, even if
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only an expensive commissioned facsimile was permitted out of
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the library. Something had happened, she was sure, but decided
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not to press further for the moment.</p>
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<p>“And the other matter?” she asked.</p>
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<p>“Someone already knew the crystal was at the hotel and
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retained a crew of cyberplasmic pirates to storm the place.”
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Ink replied flatly. “And yes, your acquaintance is very much
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dead, shot by the crew leader in the scuffle. As the rumour
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rags have it, his ghost is now overseeing the building
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repairs.”</p>
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<p>Tess was about to admonish the imp gently for the tasteless
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jest when there was a knock at the door. At her response, the
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door opened and her secretary entered with a box of pastries
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and two sets of tableware, which she placed on the coffee
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table before leaving and closing the door behind her.</p>
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<p>Noticing Ink’s look of recognition, Tess smiled and
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ventured, “This is the second time is as many months you
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awarded that empanada place a glowing review in <em>The Tiny
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Toaster</em>. I can count the ratings higher than a 10 you’ve
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ever given on one hand — of course I had to try it. Why don’t
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you have some as well?”</p>
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<p>Ink blinked. “I didn’t write the latest review.”</p>
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<p>Tess shot them an accusing mock-glare as she lifted a puffy
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golden brown pastry onto a plate. “It has your inkprints all
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over it.”</p>
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<p>“I don’t know what you mean. Surely I’m allowed to treat a
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colleague to lunch, and they are free to express their
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satisfaction with a meal openly if they wish,” Ink replied
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smoothly.</p>
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<p>Tess rolled her eyes. “There’s a name for that. It’s called
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bribery.”</p>
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<p>Ink smiled faintly. “Just so. However, the selection speaks
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for itself.”</p>
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<p>“Oh, absolutely! These mini ambrose apple empanadas are
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wonderful. In fact,” Tess prodded the open end of the pastry
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with her fork, where a light yellow filling was visible, “they
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remind me a little of the very crispy tortelli
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<em>someone</em> made several years ago just for the opening
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reception of <em>The Two Genteelkin of Virdantha</em>.”</p>
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<p>“Any resemblance is coincidental. The chef is very
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capable.” Ink said evenly.</p>
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<p>Tess sighed and returned her plate to the table. “We’ve
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talked about this before, Ink. You don’t have to hole up in
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some poor scrub’s excuse for a kitchen in a closet. If you
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need more room downstairs then expand it. Just tell Salvia and
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she’ll take care of it.”</p>
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<p>Ink lowered their gaze to the teacups. “I appreciate the
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offer, but the answer is the same. There will be no rest until
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the crystals are secured.”</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>Some time passes.</p>
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<p>The hemogoblin turns out to be a fine housemate and less of
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a problem than you thought it would be. Be it because its not
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in the excitement of battle onboard a pirate ship, or be it
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because it is maturing slightly, it seems in better control of
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its blood sacs. Barring a few small accidents, it doesn’t make
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much of a mess. It has found and claimed as its own a few
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unused blankets, and has made a little burrow nest in an out
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of the way corner behind the furniture.</p>
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<p>Bread makes a full recovery and in fact is doing better
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than ever before. The blood goblin stays by their side during
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the first hours and days and keeps them pumped full of clean,
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synthetic blood. Afterwards the toque is flushed a healthy
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pink and has new vigor. Enrique takes them under his tutelage.
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And Bread ends up making a fine baker’s apprentice. Dough
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seems to rise more and quicker after he kneads it. “The lad
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has solar hands,” Enrique boasts of his new protegee.</p>
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<p>Confidence becomes enthralled with the semi-sentient
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Wandering Bazaar. The thirteen story building moves with
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glacial speed up and down the streets, vendors and stalls and
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shoppers following in its wake. But then also it will
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disappear in the blink of an eye only to reappear in a totally
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different part of the area known as the Wandering Bazaar
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District. Each floor of the tall, narrow tower is occupied
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entirely by a single shop. But which shop it is seems to vary
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from day to day. One day the seventh level will be occupied by
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Fedik’s Butcher shop. And the next, Lario’s Bakery. It might
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be days or weeks before one can once again buy hotlinks from
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Fedik’s. Where the shops go when they’re not here is one of
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Basmentaria’s great mysteries.</p>
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<p>The toque studies the Bazaar’s movements and are able to
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predict its route with more and more accuracy. They become a
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highly sought out guide. Tourists and visitors trust them to
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take them to the very spot the Bazaar will appear that day.
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Residents appreciate the heads up and not getting trapped in
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their houses when the Bazaar wedges its way into their narrow
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residential streets, blocking their front doors. And owners of
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traditional, less ambulatory shops are able to plan ahead for
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the crowds that will appear on “Bazaar Day”.</p>
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<p>~</p>
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<p>Members of the Retrieval Team who sleep in Milk Market HQ
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start having dreams of the same mysterious figure. Of course
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at first nobody knows their dreams are shared by the others.
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Not until they become more frequent, more regular. By the time
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the figure has visited you every night for nearly a week,
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somebody speaks up and you realize the coincidence.</p>
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<p>The figure is clad in voluminous robes of deep purple.
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Long, straight, blonde hair falls around their shoulders.
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Their soft features are boyish and womanly. They wear a golden
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circlet on their head and a golden eye in the middle of their
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forehead. Their passive, neutral face betrays no emotion the
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entire time.</p>
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<p>The dream is always the same. They reach out to you with
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one hand and turn their palm up. And because of dream logic,
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in the palm of their hand you can hear the jingling of coins,
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mirthful laughter, and hushed stories told around a campfire.
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They curl their fingers into a loose first and the sounds
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stop. They spread their arms wide and in the folds of their
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robes you can see three siblings fighting, squabbling over a
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broken loom.</p>
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<p>Then you’re standing next to them, and the two of you watch
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three friends, Snake, Owl, and Dolphin. Owl tells Snake that
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he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t want to be an
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owl any more, he wants to be flowers. And Snake laughs and
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tells him that he is Owl, and an owl he must remain. And she
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leaves him to go eat rodents and bake in the sun. So Owl tells
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Dolphin that he is tired of flying and hooting, and doesn’t
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want to be an owl any more, he wants to be flowers. Dolphin
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doesn’t want to help Owl, because if he is flowers, they won’t
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be able to be together any longer. But Dolphin finally agrees
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to help even though they don’t want to, because Dolphin loves
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Owl. With all their strength, they create a great waterspout
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that will turn Owl into flowers. But the waterspout is too
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strong, and Dolphin is too weak to control it. It sprays Owl
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but does not turn him into flowers. Owl’s wing is broken and
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he falls to the ground in a heap of feathers. The waterspout
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shakes a great boulder from the earth and traps Snake under
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it. And Dolphin sinks to the bottom of the sea.</p>
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<p>And then you wake up.</p>
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<p>~</p>
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<p>Later you find a letter in the common area of Milk Market
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HQ. It is not addressed to anybody. When you open it up, it
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reads:</p>
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<blockquote>
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<p>Time is running out, Retrieval Team 43. Things are starting
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to draw to a close. We cannot delay our meeting any longer if
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we both are to achieve our goals. We have information that you
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are looking for. Meet us at the Harpoon Club next Selday. We
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will wear the sign.</p>
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</blockquote>
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<p>The letter is signed with a white iris and golden
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apple.</p>
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<p>Anyone in Vay’Nullar would be able to tell you that the
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Harpoon Club is a game room and fine dining club, and one of
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the rotating tenants of the Wandering Bazaar. But Confidence
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would tell you, were you to ask them, that the club won’t be
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there next Selday. (When the Bazaar will appear at East and
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Lowland.) It is in fact not scheduled to appear until a week
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and a half after next Selday, on Third Tensday. (When the
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Bazaar will appear at Cathedral and Pine.)</p>
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<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
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]]>
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</description>
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</item>
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<item>
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<title>55</title>
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<author>dozens@tilde.team (dozens)</author>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">55 - Thu, 05 Jan 2023 08:21:34
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-0700</guid>
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<pubDate>Thu, 05 Jan 2023 08:21:34 -0700</pubDate>
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<description>
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<![CDATA[
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<h3 id="00055">00055</h3>
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<blockquote>
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<p>The nibs had disappeared.</p>
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<p>Inky had spotted the small ceramic and wicker teapot among
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a long row of boxes and bowls at the antique shop on the
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thirteenth floor of the Wandering Bazaar while looking for a
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Near-weightless Verifying Matter enclosure (NVMe) to their
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Handy Duffer Discette as a primary storage. The witch
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shopkeeper, Agate, had helpfully mentioned the teapot could be
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used to steep very acidic or alkaline solutions, as well as
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distil solubles. The box it was subsequently packed in did not
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include instructions on activating the precipitation feature.
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With the shop not returning for another week by Confidence’s
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reckoning, Inky had used the teapot in the meantime to rinse
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off any impurities from an old set of nibs — the very first
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functional set they had made as an apprentice inkling — except
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the nibs were nowhere to be found when they poured out the
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citronella solution and removed the lid. Inky supposed it was
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to be expected — some witches liked to go on about equal
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payment for wishes, as if it were as easy as reading off a
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price tag, and it was difficult to stay irritated at a cute
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teapot for long. Inky wrote it off as a gift for what would
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hopefully thereafter be a cutely functional teapot. The shop
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had a no-refunds policy.</p>
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<p>Then came the dream. At first Inky had attributed them to
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reading the book on the mythology of The Trine that they had
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slipped out of the Runesocesius Library, along with an obscure
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cactus leather-bound manuscript containing first-hand accounts
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of the Artifice Wars. When the dream repeated itself on the
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third night, Inky suspected it had something to do with the
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crystals under the Milk Market’s roof. While not horrifically
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bloody in the way Master Corraidhín’s description of the
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vision he had from the first crystal had been, it was
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haplessly boring when lucid intervention didn’t seem to have
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any effect. It ran on like a low-budget B-Grade play that had
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only three scenes with a few props each. By the fourth night,
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the dream had become worse than a nib-nibbling teapot that
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they stayed up entire nights for the rest of that week while
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they were camping at the Milk Market.</p>
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<p>It was mostly an excuse to drop into the kitchens
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downstairs — which they could now enter on the pretext of
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visiting Bread to observe the apprentice’s progress — in the
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early morning hours and push new tea blends onto its
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unfortunate occupants. Most of the three dozen or so infusions
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had been full of fruits and spices, six of which would go well
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with items on the empanada shop’s current menu. A handful were
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medicinal after procuring a herb illustrated on one
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moth-bitten page snatched on the hotel steps back on the Peak.
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A few others were teas in the loosest sense of the word. These
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were as tasteless and colourless as tap water, only the scent
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offering a faint clue as to their ingredients. They had other
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applications, least of which was in a prank on one empanada
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chef. (Inky left him a box of zephyl tea — another Kelsun Peak
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speciality besides mulled wine — before he could too riled up,
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though.)</p>
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<p>The note left at the Milk Market was the black cherry atop
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the hassle cake. Confidence was fairly sure that the fine
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establishment mentioned in the note wouldn’t appear on the day
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indicated. Couldn’t “Mother” have chosen to meet somewhere a
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||
little more convenient? So it was that despite the shop having
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a no-refunds policy, or because of it, Inky found themselves
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returning to the antique shop inside the Wandering Bazaar a
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week later looking for another item. “Do you sell flight
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vessels that could transport people to and from specific
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places … such as the Harpoon Club?” they asked the witch.</p>
|
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</blockquote>
|
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<p>You and the witch go back and forth a few times before she
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realizes that you want to visit a place where it is when it
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isn’t there.</p>
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<p>“Transdimensional extratemporal colocation?” Agate claps
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her hands in delight. “This is going to be fun! A witchy
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problem wants a witchy solution. That’s what my Auntie
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Tenfingers always said!”</p>
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<p>“Why bother with flying contraptions when you yourself are
|
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a perfectly adequate vessel? I’m going to prescribe you a
|
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dream ritual,” she says, scribbling in a notebook. “It’s
|
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complex. But only because it’s a lot of steps. And the timing
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is kind of particular in a couple places. But if you follow
|
||
the directions, you shouldn’t have any trouble.” She rips the
|
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page out of the notebook and hands it you.</p>
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<p>“Basically, you’ll enter a host’s dreams, and then delve
|
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into the Collective Unconsciousness. From there you should be
|
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able to find the Wandering Bazaar’s pocket dimension. Of
|
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course you’ll need to find a guide to take you there. You’ll
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have to find one in the Sea of Dreams.”</p>
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<p>“And you’ll need this!” She ducks behind the counter and
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reappears with a smoke-gray box bound with thick black ribbon.
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It’s about as long as her forearm. She unwraps the box and
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opens it and pulls out a thick, round candle. It is an
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unhealthy, sickening translucent yellow. In the base of the
|
||
candle is a large, blackened, withered, and shriveled hand. It
|
||
is within and without the candle. As though it is grasping the
|
||
base of the candle, but also like it has been molded into the
|
||
candle on purpose. As though the hand is imprisoned in the
|
||
wax. You can just make out a hazy small round object in the
|
||
center of the candle through the wax. A large nut or marble.
|
||
The hand looks like it is reaching for it. The candle has been
|
||
burned down a fair bit. The wick is low and trimmed, and the
|
||
edges are black and warped where the fatty wax has melted and
|
||
hardened. You guess there’s only about two-thirds left of the
|
||
candle.</p>
|
||
<p>The witch measures down from the top of the candle with a
|
||
length of string and bores a small hole in its side. She
|
||
wedges a large nail into the hole, leaving half of it jutting
|
||
out. “A crude clock,” she winks at you. “Place the candle on a
|
||
hard metal plate. When it burns down enough for the wax here
|
||
to soften, the nail will fall out and strike the plate and
|
||
wake you up.”</p>
|
||
<p>She pushes it across the counter toward you and frowns.
|
||
“Eh, should be okay,” she shrugs. “But if at any point it
|
||
looks like the base gets soft enough that the hand might be
|
||
able to grasp the eye,” she cautions pointing toward the round
|
||
object in the center of the candle, “smash the thing. As hard
|
||
as you can. Destroy the hand, and run.”</p>
|
||
<p>“The rest of the instructions should be pretty self
|
||
explanatory!” she exclaims, perking up. “Let me know if you
|
||
have any questions!”</p>
|
||
<details>
|
||
<summary>
|
||
Ritual Details
|
||
</summary>
|
||
<figure>
|
||
<img src="https://tilde.town/~dozens/quest/ritual.png"
|
||
alt="ritual outline" />
|
||
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">ritual outline</figcaption>
|
||
</figure>
|
||
<p>Ritual Steps In Brief:</p>
|
||
<ol type="1">
|
||
<li><p>Find a volunteer to be the Dream Host.</p></li>
|
||
<li><p>Link your sanctum to the place where the Bazaar will be
|
||
on the appointed date. (You can’t just do your ceremony out in
|
||
the open in the middle of the street! Find somewhere you can
|
||
safely leave your bodies for a few hours.)</p></li>
|
||
<li><p>Draw a circle of salt.</p></li>
|
||
<li><p>At the appointed time, put the Dream Host in the
|
||
circle. Also the Travelers (you), the Dream Sigil, and the
|
||
Nyxmaer Candle.</p></li>
|
||
<li><p>Once the Host is asleep (Sleep spell not included),
|
||
light the candle and enter the Host’s dream.</p></li>
|
||
<li><p>Turn “away” from the dream, cross the Sea of Dreams to
|
||
the Collective Unconsciousness.</p></li>
|
||
<li><p>Find the Bazaar’s pocket dimension.</p></li>
|
||
</ol>
|
||
</details>
|
||
<blockquote>
|
||
<p>The day the letter arrived Alex was nowhere to be found. It
|
||
was a bit strange, somewhat chilling even, that he’d disappear
|
||
like that. Ever since they had arrived back at the Milk Maid
|
||
he’d been seen skulking about his uncle’s study, or pacing the
|
||
garden out back somewhat agitatedly. Unbeknownst to the party,
|
||
Alex had anticipated the arrival of the letter, HQ had been
|
||
following every lead they could pull in since he began with
|
||
the Ginnarak recovery team. Not that they really had much to
|
||
go off of, but the courier who left the letter wasn’t hard to
|
||
track. That was, until he slipped inside one of the ever
|
||
changing shops right as it was moving along.</p>
|
||
<p>The trail went cold after that. Which meant Alex had to get
|
||
it moving again, or at least the crumpled communique he’d
|
||
received said as much. Things were moving too quickly to think
|
||
too hard on the how, all that was needed was action, something
|
||
drastic to flush things out.</p>
|
||
<p>That’s why Alex finds himself on the east side of the
|
||
market, skulk about the back alley behind The Temporal
|
||
Cup.</p>
|
||
<p>“Gotta get this shit ready, there’s no other options here”
|
||
Alex thought to himself. He loathed this type of work, it was
|
||
messy, abhorrently vile in his mind, but what choice did he
|
||
have? His hands worked deftly at the wires in the small
|
||
package hidden inside the recess of a loose brick. Once
|
||
finished, the little packet came to life, muted lights
|
||
blicking away happily as the brick slid back over it.</p>
|
||
<p>This was the 3rd and final eavesdropping device, all placed
|
||
at the busiest cafes in market, all rigged with self destruct
|
||
mechanisms large enough to level the building if they’re
|
||
found.. The eavesdropping Alex could abide by, but the wanton
|
||
destruction for the sake of security was painful to
|
||
swallow.</p>
|
||
<p>But once again, it wasn’t much like Alex had a say in the
|
||
matter. The first sign of objection, an inclination that he’d
|
||
refuse orders, and they’d have an assassin on him before he
|
||
could leave the alley. And if he took it out, they’d send
|
||
double, there’d be no rest.</p>
|
||
<p>— Later that day</p>
|
||
<p>Alex watched twtxt feeds scroll through from his monitoring
|
||
devices. Most of it unimportant gossip. So and so haves an
|
||
affair, what’s for lunch, where to find good empanadas in the
|
||
market, so on and so forth. An endless stream on the pulse of
|
||
the market.</p>
|
||
<p>It was errant curiosity to watch these, the Magic Lichen in
|
||
the monitoring system was trained to hunt for any hint of what
|
||
the courier was up to, any twinge from Blavin and his ilk.
|
||
It’d send alerts straight to him as soon as something came up,
|
||
but it was interesting to see the pulse of the city trail by.
|
||
And what else could he do? It was too dangerous to go back to
|
||
the Milk Maid, any hint he was there could blow his cover.
|
||
Best to lay low for the time being, let the scrapers scrape
|
||
and the agents comb the streets until they get a bead on their
|
||
target.</p>
|
||
</blockquote>
|
||
<p>Milk Market HQ ought to be quiet. Alex has been
|
||
conspicuously absent. Missing in action. Inky seems to be out
|
||
making rounds delivering tea, or spending more time than usual
|
||
at the empenadaria. So Milk Market HQ ought to be quiet.</p>
|
||
<p>Instead, a certain young hemogoblin and a certain yellow
|
||
duck (both of whom have yet to be named, by the way) are
|
||
squealing as they rampage through the rooms on the top floor
|
||
of the building, upsetting the furniture in their wake and in
|
||
general making a huge mess.</p>
|
||
<p>It took some coaxing on the hemogoblin’s part. The duck was
|
||
determinedly uninterested in anything besides a soak in its
|
||
tub and a nap on its cushion. And it did a good job of
|
||
ignoring the persistent, pestering goblin for most of the
|
||
afternoon. But jumping into a wooden tub full of blood cracked
|
||
the foul’s disinterested facade. It gave furious chase to the
|
||
goblin until the heat of the moment cooled down. At which
|
||
point the two of them simply enjoyed the thrill of chasing
|
||
each other through the apartments.</p>
|
||
<p>Confidence is actually the first one to stumble across the
|
||
carnage. They were just popping by to drop off some new
|
||
pamphlets, but froze in the doorway when they saw the suite in
|
||
disarray and the walls plastered with blood and feathers.
|
||
“What the toque…” And then they quietly closed the door and
|
||
left without going in after all.</p>
|
||
<p>~</p>
|
||
<p>Gliftwirp browses the stalls trailing behind the Wandering
|
||
Bazaar. He is bare chested save for a sleeveless vest. He
|
||
wears long, baggy, striped trousers bunched at the ankle, and
|
||
a bright red sash tied loosely around his waist. He grins a
|
||
wide, gap-toothed grin as he thumps a melon.</p>
|
||
<p>“Look at the size of this melon! And perfectly ripe!” he
|
||
beams at the stall vendor. “You’ll be here next week? With
|
||
more like this?”</p>
|
||
<p>Very few people would be able to tell Gliftwirp’s
|
||
profession from his attire. For those who can, one look at his
|
||
red sash would immediately cause them to give him a wide
|
||
berth. Because Gliftwirp is a warpwefter. A master assassin
|
||
trained in the ancient art of sarong-fu. That is, the deadly
|
||
application of soft and flexible weapons. Whips, chains,
|
||
garrotes, nunchucks. And most famously—and most
|
||
effectively—sashes, sarongs, scarves, and the like. The saying
|
||
goes that a clothed warpwefter is never unarmed. Nor even is a
|
||
nude one if they can get their hands on <em>your</em> clothes.
|
||
And a warpwefter can sneak their weapons into the most secure
|
||
of locations.</p>
|
||
<p>“I am a visitor here, and don’t know my way around,” he
|
||
keeps up the small-talk with the vendor, having paid for the
|
||
melon. “Do you know if there is a building around here called
|
||
‘Milk Market?’ I’m supposed to meet someone there. No, they’re
|
||
not expecting me. It’s going to be a surprise!”</p>
|
||
<p>He grins his wide toothy grin.</p>
|
||
<p>~</p>
|
||
<p>The twtxt feed from the listening devices is dull and
|
||
quiet. The monitoring software is designed to only deliver
|
||
messages containing certain buzzwords. And those messages are
|
||
few and far between.</p>
|
||
<p>You decide to tap into the unfiltered stream and let the
|
||
endless waves of blather wash over you. It’s inane. Idle
|
||
gossip and mindless chitter-chatter.</p>
|
||
<p>After a day or two of this, you notice yourself getting
|
||
uncharacteristically agitated. You squint at the lines of
|
||
messages coming in and notice a few transposed characters in
|
||
some of them, forming new nonsensical words. A couple messages
|
||
are missing some whitespace, squishing words together in
|
||
maddening run-ons. Glitchy. There’s no reason the listening
|
||
devices should be returning errors like this.</p>
|
||
<p>Later still, the feeds have gotten worse. Some words seem
|
||
to be written backwards. Entire messages are garbled word
|
||
soup, devoid of any meaning or sense whatsoever. Some of the
|
||
timestamps are invalid datetimes. But you prefer them to the
|
||
ones that are valid, but which are stamped years ago. And you
|
||
far prefer them to the ones that are stamped far in the
|
||
future.</p>
|
||
<p>The anomalies are overall infrequent. On their own, they
|
||
don’t amount to much. And when you show them, nobody at HQ
|
||
gives you with much more than a slightly patronizing,
|
||
indulgent shrug. But the glitches shouldn’t be happening at
|
||
all, is the thing. And when you compile them all together, you
|
||
start to notice things. Patterns insinuating themselves,
|
||
maddeningly just short of reason or meaning. Like a song stuck
|
||
in your head when you can’t remember the lyrics or the melody.
|
||
But there’s something there nonetheless. The promise of
|
||
something, at least. Something bigger. A wide tapestry of
|
||
links and connections, wanting to be known.</p>
|
||
<p>There are names. Ellis, the lady in red who sits at the
|
||
center of a tangled web. Ousia, a sea of endless knowledge. A
|
||
sea of magic. The 215R Dude, a denizen of the other side who
|
||
can deliver you to its shores. Other strange beings who lurk
|
||
just out of sight, just beyond the veil of perception. The
|
||
veil that you are now beginning to pierce with the snippets
|
||
and snatches of information you pluck from your feeds.</p>
|
||
<p>You start to see signs of the veil elsewhere. Of the
|
||
conspiracy. Whatever. You can’t decide what to call it. Street
|
||
graffiti outside of a red spider spinning a red web. Phrases
|
||
like “215R” show up in random articles in the paper. As though
|
||
the secret world is trying to cross over. Or to draw you into
|
||
it.</p>
|
||
<p>WHAT DO YOU DO</p>
|
||
]]>
|
||
</description>
|
||
</item>
|
||
</channel>
|
||
</rss>
|