The rock fell away beneath Shawn's feet.


"Keep Climbing Shawn!" Bobby yelled as Shawns hands dug into the edge of the cliff ten feet above them. Shawn knew there was a ledge, otherwise he'd be falling, but Shawn couldn't see iit at all. If he turned his head too far, he could become unbalanced and the drop was further than Shawn could see. Already the adrenaline coursing unchecked, urging Shawn to do what I cannot. Sure his muscles were stronger and He was more awake than he'd ever been In The Underworld, but this wasn't a situation where staying put hard for a long time was going to help.

Down below, Bobby encouragement while Ralph started to climb up. Crowley was waiting at the bottom hoping the group would lower a rope down if they found one.

Shawn felt his heart pounding in his throat, refusing to look down lest he lose what little remained of his nerve. He tried to pull himself up, if not to safety, then at least somewhere more stable where he could actually get his bearings.

"Shawn, move your left foot up and to the right where your knee is right now! There's a foothold there." Bobby advised.

OOC : Shawn Chooses

Listen to Bobby or
Do not listen to Bobby

Then Shawn Rolls Dexterity + Athletics with the following results

0 Successes: Ouch! Shawn falls and takes one bashing damage

1+ Success: Shawn begins the climb ( 7 successes needed in total, ST will advise before each roll)

Shawn moved his left foot as instructed, gingerly trying to feel out a foothold. He trusted Bobby, even if that trust was the result of Shawn making him that way...

OOC: 18:26, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s.  Dexterity + Athletics.

"Did you hear that? Something is coming!" Crowley yelled, looking up at the sky.


OOC: Shawn follows Bobby's instructions, gains 1 success. Total successes = 3. Shawn rolls Dexterity + Athletics with the following results.


0 Successes: Ouch! Shawn falls and takes 3 bashing damage

1+ Success: Shawn begins the climb ( 7 successes needed in total, ST will advise before each roll)

Shawn tried to control himself, making sure his grip was secure before looking up.

OOC: 16:46, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 5,7,10(+4),4,7,10(+2).  Dexterity + Athletics

"You're almost there! Don't you leave me down here when you reach the top!" Crowley yelled with a whine that was half demon half toddler

"Ugh! I can't make it...I...u...u....u....up. I'll wait fo....fo...fo...for you to find a rrrr.....rr...r..rope"

OOC: Total successes = 5. Shawn rolls Dexterity + Athletics with the following results.


0 Successes: Ouch! Shawn falls and takes 4 bashing damage and is rendered unconscious.

1+ Success: Shawn begins the climb ( 7 successes needed in total, ST will advise before each roll)

Shawn called back down without turning his head. “Don’t get too risky. I’ll find a rope or something.”

OOC:  13:56, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 7,3,2,6,9,5.  Dexterity + Athletics

Shawn was almost there. He pushed himself up to the edge of the cliff. Now all that he needed to do was grip the edge and pull himself over. His legs were fatigued with squatting and climbing and his feet ached with each foothold he had pushed off of. But it was Shawns arms and hands that burned more than anything else. His hands were dried and cracked with the salty, red rock outcropping that lined the Underworld cliff. His arms burned with tired trembling.

OOC: Total successes = 6. Shawn rolls Dexterity + Athletics with the following results.


0 Successes: Ouch! Shawn falls and takes 5 bashing damage and is rendered unconscious.

1+ Success: Shawn begins the climb ( 7 successes needed in total)

OOC: 08:44, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 5,1,6,4,10(+5),9.  Dexterity + Athletics.

Shawn pushed himself up and hauled his body over the precipice of the cliff.  He rolled over onto the reddish rock, the dust and dirt collecting on his clothes and the dry air filling his lungs.  He glanced upward and saw a large, enormous cave. It stood there like some great chasm, hollowed out of the mountain. It was large enough to fit an entire army in its length, a great big mouth opening to swallow anything....and inside

Darkness.

At the entrance of the cave there was an tent, out on the furthest right point of the cave, decked out in exotic orange fabrics. There was a purple fabric rich in color, flapping in the wind.  The tent looked like some kind of miniature ant-house in front of the mammouth cave and under the sky smeared with orange and brown.

Shawn lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, and reorient himself to having solid ground beneath himself once more. He noticed the cave and the tent, but before he did anything else, he looked around for anything resembling a rope, a ladder, or maybe even some pulleys.

Shawn glanced around at the barren landscape and plateau. There was nothing here but the mammoth cave and small tent near its entrance. Sure, there were rocks and stones, but none that could be useful in getting the rest of his party up.

OOC: Shawn rolls Wits + Composure

OOC: 07:42, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 8,1,6,4.  Wits + Composure

Shawn's mind was drawn to the tent in a way in which he was able to see a sudden movement: It was a flag pole, standing tall from somewhere amid the tent in its distance. The movement of ropes, the creaking of metal and Shawn saw what looked like a flag of sorts. It flapped this way and that, as if endlessly dancing. Shawn could read the sign from where he stood:

WE SELL ROPES AND OTHER STUFF FOR SHAWN ONLY

It was as if the tent, or whatever or whoever was hoisting it had literally read Shawns mind.

Shawn was immediately suspicious of this apparently mind-reading tent. He spent a few moments watching to make sure monsters weren't going to suddenly jump out and charge him. Then he turned around and looked down the cliff face he'd climbed up, trying to judge the distance. If the others were still within shouting distance, he might be able to ask Crowley if this was a trap.

Shawn watched as the wind on the plateau picked up, the tent fabric flapping and making a shuffling sound in the distance.

From down below, Shawn saw Ralph cup his mouth

"Wh..wh..what's it like up there?" Ralph yelled, his voice echoing.

Shawn called back down. "There's a weird tent here! Does Crowley know anything about it?" He glanced back at the tent, seeing if it had changed at all. It had almost seemed to read his mind before...experimentally, he thought really hard to himself boy, I could really use a map of the mountain.

Ralph turned towards the Baby demon, his words lost to Shawn far away down below. Then he turned and cupped his mouth, speaking to Shawn with some effort.

"He..s..s..s..says its the t..t..t..tent of Little Stone. S..s...s..some kind of like.....Lemonade Stand." Ralph offered, the last words coming out confused and perhaps a little made up by Ralph himself.

"He..he..he..he says you can g..g..g..get the stuff to cure Gr..gr..griffix? There."

Shawn was relieved it didn't seem to be a trap, but he wasn't completely reassured yet. He called back down to Ralph. "Is it safe to go in?!"

Shawn's shout echoed down the cliff to reach the rest of the party. A few seconds later, Ralph conferred with Crowley to his left and Bobby to his right. Then he cupped his hands to his mouth to shout an answer back.

"No." Ralph shouted.

Then he cupped his hands again after Crowley said something else. "He..s..s..says its never safe with...l..l..l..l..Little Stone."

Meanwhile, all of the shouting had stirred Feddler from his rest. Shawn could feel the imp unfurl itself somewhere in the back left part of his brain.

"What's this?" Feddler asked, like a drunkard who had just woken up and was surprised at his surroundings.

Shawn shuffled back from the edge of the cliff, turning around to watch the tent warily. It didn't surprise him that the place was dangerous - it seemed like everything in this place was. But if Crowley knew what it was, and it was a place where he could find a way to fix Griffix, then he didn't have much of a choice. Besides, he needed a rope...

He felt Feddler shifting around in the back of his brain as he got to his feet. We're going into this tent to talk to Little Stone. He might be able to fix Griffix and help us find our way out. He started slowly heading towards the tent, keeping an eye on the sign outside.

Shawn made his way towards the tent. The canvas was scrawled with arcana and it flapped and lurched, stood towering, luffed and wrapped about. The tent stood among the backdrop of the massive cave opening that appeared big enough to fit in a Spaceship. Nevertheless, it was a rude tent thrown up out of an old tarp, perhaps older than Shawn's Grandpa. Out side the tent fly, Shawn could see a sign that said:

Little Stone's Tent of Knowledge and Wares

Shawn stood outside looking at the tent and the wagonsheet that served as a raggedy front door that was open a crack. And from that crack, Shawn could see a glimpse of what might be inside:

Inside darkness and a smell of earth. A small fire burned on the dirt floor, its smoke coming out through a whole in the ceiling of the tent and the only furnishings Shawn could see from his obscured view were a pile of hides in one corner. There were glimpses of books piled high amid arcane bottles, strange oils and alchemist measuring tools.

There was also a crude cage of paloverde poles whereby crouched a naked imbecile. The floor of the cage was littered with filth and trodden food and flies clambered about everywhere.

Shawn held his breath as he looked through the open slit in the tent. He scrutinized the strange poles with someone inside of them. There was food all around the creature - did it look like the bones of children? Eventually, if there was no sign of obvious physical danger, he called into the crack. “Hello? Anybody here? I’m looking for ‘Knowledge and Wares’?”

"Blugh-gady!!" The imbecile turned in his cage and shouted the words out. Shawn saw that he was small and misshapen and his face was smeared with feces and he sat peering at Shawn with dull hostility while silently chewing a turd.

As Shawn looked at the small person in the cage...he realized, with growing astonishment, that it was.....

Eddie. Eddie Hughs.

Eddie's eyes darted about and he was clutching the bars and hooting at Shawn like some kind of monkey. He was standing tiptoe even though he was hunched over, as if to better accommodate himself in the cage.  Then as he took the view of Shawn in, Eddie took a step back and looked at Shawn with eyes that were white in the gloom.

Shawn gasped - this was literally the last thing he'd expected to see. "Eddy?! Is that really you?" This odd creature was completely different from the Eddy he remembered, dirty and hooting and covered in foul smelling poop. But that face had been burned into his memory the last time Shawn had visited him in the hospital.

Eddie began to hoot and holler again in total gibberish when Shawn asked the question. Somewhere behind the trinkets and the artifacts that lay in the tent like a souk in a Middle Eastern Bazzaar, a voice boomed.

"I would be very careful with him, as any man is careful around such wild creatures. He is known to bite as I had found him wandering just outside past the Krinner. It is best for you and those that would come after you to bear witness to such a creature as this, that you do not feed it nor stick your hands through the bars of its cage. Nature is both friend and foe. And the creature that you see before you is majestic in its beauty but as dangerous as the rising tide of a flash flood."

Shawn could see the words came from a small cat which sat in bathrobe on the seat of antique piano. It held in its hand a cigarette, the smoke wafting up to the ceiling. On the piano was and a short glass of whiskey, amber yellow in color. Though the cat was small, its voice was deep and held all the authority of a judge during sentencing.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:51, Sat 15 Sept 2018.

Shawn heard the voice boom, and immediately knew that its owner was dangerous. It spoke poetically, intelligently. A far cry from the way Crowley spoke. Even if he hadn't had the warning, he knew he had to be on his guard, and careful about what he said. When he saw the small cat, it didn't actually make him less fearful, despite a smaller creature being in theory less of a physical threat. If it hung out this close to a dragon nest, it was obviously dangerous. He thought carefully before he made his reply.

"Majestic? He's covered in...I hope that's his own poo. And maybe he could get a pair of pants?" Shawn tried to sound blunt, like he was the kind of kid to just blurt out the first thing on his mind. Then he seemed to remember his manners and gave the cat a polite nod. "I'd, umm, introduce myself, but my name was written on the sign outside, so I guess you already know."

"I do know of you. For it was I who was contacted to provide you with the necessary solution to the Griffix situation, in all of its complexity and significance. And it was indeed I who would establish myself here in waiting for you before the final leg of your journey into this cave, the utmost endpoint before which the Krinner can be said to be crossed."

"But why lurk there in the shadows? Come here where we can talk, you and me."

Shawn again found himself taking a moment to think before he responded. This strange cat was using a lot of big words, and he had to stop and puzzle through the meaning. He thought he got the gist of it, though. "Contacted? You mean Crowley told you I'd be coming?" He stepped into the tent warily.

A quarter turn on the bench and the cat faced Shawn. It took a swing of the short whiskey glass and its tongue came across its lips and two sharp teeth on either side of it's mouth.

"Why, you're just a child."  The cat said, seemingly surprised now that it could fix its eyes on Shawn.

"Crowley is but the patron. He sought me as many men seek many different things. I provided what was required. And as I did unto him, I will now do unto you." As if realizing that these words were too complicated after giving Shawn a glance, the cat tried to clarify his position concerning Crowley and Shawn too for that matter.

"I am prepared to give you what it is the Crowley has asked me to provide. For the difficulty you have and the situation involving the werewolf-leprechaun. What is to be deviates not from the book wherein it's writ. How could it? It would be a false book and a false book is no book at all."

"And since you are here you may also ask of me anything it is that you seek to know prior to you meeting the child who practices ventriloquism deep in the cave near the dragon."

The cat took another drink. Then, before Shawn could answer, he spoke again with a renewed focus as if trying to explain to Shawn the significance of the surroundings that they both inhabited. It was clear that cat want to impart this knowledge on Shawn, the way a school teacher might impart knowledge to a student that was about to go into a final exam.

"We are close to the Krinner. The edge of the Underworld. The people who once lived here are called the old ones. The old ones. They quit these parts, routed by drought or disease or by wandering bands of marauders, quit these parts ages since and of them there is no memory. They are rumors and ghosts in this land and they are much revered. The tools, the art, the tent we are in— these things stand in judgement on the latter races. Yet there is nothing for them to grapple with. The old ones are gone like phantoms and the savages wander these canyons to the sound of an ancient laughter. In their crude huts they crouch in darkness and listen to the fear seeping out of the rock. All progressions from a higher to a lower order are marked by ruins and mystery and a residue of nameless rage."

"So. Here are the dead...fathers. Their spirit is entombed in the stone. It lies upon the land with the same weight and the same ubiquity. For whoever makes a shelter of reeds and hides has joined his spirit to the common destiny of creatures and he will subside back into the primal mud with scarcely a cry. But who builds in stone seeks to alter the structure of the universe and so it was with these masons however primitive their works may seem to us destiny of creatures and he will subside back into the primal mud with scarcely a cry. But who builds in stone seeks to alter the structure of the universe and so it was with these masons however primitive their works may seem to us."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Wed 19 Sept 2018.

"I think I understand..." Shawn genuinely was trying to pay attention to what the cat was saying - he'd learned by now that understanding this stuff literally could save his life. And he thought he understood some of it - something about the importance of stone buildings? But he'd picked up on the instructorly demeanour of the cat, and had switched to the clear-eyed, attentive-seeming guise he'd used to get good participation marks in school, even when his actual work wasn't good.

When the cat finished, Shawn understood that it was time for questions. And he certainly had a bunch! "What does Crowley want you to tell me? When did he ask you to do that? Do you know something about Bradford? And what's Eddy doing here? Why is he like that?"

"We should start with the Baby Demon." Little Stone instructed, and he put a long, filtered cigarette to his mouth and took a long drag. Smoke clouded around the cat's face and whiskers and drifted up to the ceiling of the tent.

"The Baby Demon informed me about your problems. Perhaps earlier in what you might call 'The Summer.' The Baby Demon therefore asked me to prepare these for you." One paw came out to touch a stack of salt and pepper notebooks, sitting at the edge of the piano. "These books are filled with the stories of vile deeds of boys and girls, to be fed to the werewolf-leprechaun. I did not ask why or what. I just prepared them as instructed by the Baby Demon, given your circumstances.  I did this in exchange for new cat litter, of which the Baby Demon had in his stock of wares."

Shawn looked at the notebooks - if they were full of the real thing, that'd be a huge boon for his friend! Though he couldn't help but spot a business opportunity as well...he didn't have a lot of money, but he could probably buy some cat litter when he got back. "He knew about this that far back? Will these turn Griffix back to normal? He's extra hungry right now."

The notebooks were piled high and frayed. Thumbing through them, Shawn could see that they were filled with bad deeds that kids had done: throwing rocks through windows, breaking in houses and saying swear words to adults. They were all the same format as Shawn had been writing his out homework.

"They will do what it is they are designed to do as Crowley requested." Little Stone answered. "What is normal?"

"You speak as if there is such a concept as normal. Hunger is normal. And the werewolf leprechaun is in his hungry phase. It makes no difference what men think of hunger" said the cat. "Hunger endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. Hunger was always here. Before man was, hunger waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other
way."

"But yes. These will do as they are designed to if they are fed to him."

Shawn examined the notebooks, looking to see if he could tell if they were frayed from age or just from being stored here before carefully tucking them away. "Thank you really! I didn't mean anything bad by asking, it's just, Crowley said that someone's making Griffix hungrier than he should. I was hoping this might fix him."

Shawn thumbed through the salt and pepper pages and they made a 'wiffing' sound as the pages touched his thumb rapidly. The notebooks looked frayed from use more than anything else. There were fingerprints on them, children-sized fingers appeared to have touched them. The prints had the smudgy look of someone who had handled inky newspapers and then went write on to a writing assignment.

Little Stone didn't answer. The cat's face looked disinterested in Shawn's gratitude. It took a long drag from the filtered cigarette, then exhaled through its nostrils. Smoke wafted up among the shelves of artifacts surrounding the piano and drifted lazily to the ceiling.

"But this is not the correct way to execute Crowley's plan." It finally commented. "Because you are asleep right now in the waking world, your efforts must be deposited and focused here." The cat's paw jetted out from one side of its bathrobe and pointed towards cylindrical tube that ran from the ceiling down to the floor and disappeared.

The tube was made of battered copper, fitted together in a ham-fisted alignment that was anything but perfect. Bent nails joined together panel of square copper. It bent this way and that, several joints exposing holes in what looked like a shoot of some kind. Near the base, about Shawn's height, there was an opening that was square in shape.

"Dream Shoot Deposits Here." was written neatly above the square opening in scripted letters from the practiced, aristocratic hand of someone familiar with calligraphy.

"Deposit the books there, and they will appear when you wake up. They will appear in your hands."

Shawn daintily deposited the books in the strange tube, squinting inside the square opening to see if he could see anything inside. "Is there any way to do this backwards? Send stuff from where I live to here?" He tried not to look at Eddy as he asked the question.

Little Stone:

The cat leaned back against the piano in a relaxing gesture and yawned while regarding Shawn for a while before it spoke.

"It is true that that has been done. In the Old Times, when the two worlds were closer together, many would send thoughts through dreams to their waking selves. And in the other direction too."

The cat took another drag from the long filtered cigarette, a glowing ember of orange tipped the end as it used one paw to flick the ash into a round, glass ash tray.

"But the other way around? That has been done too. It has been done by those that practice war or trickery. Men are born for games. Nothing else. Every child knows that play is nobler than work. He knows too that the worth or merit of a game is not inherent in the game itself but rather in the value of that which is put at hazard. Games of chance require a wager to have meaning at all. Games of sport involve the skill and strength of the opponents and the humiliation of defeat and the pride of victory are in themselves sufficient stake because they inhere in the worth of the principals and define them. But trial of chance or trial of worth all games aspire to the condition of war for here that which is wagered swallows up game, player, all."

Shawn wasn't really sure where games came into this, or war for that matter, but he was getting the impression that the cat wasn't looking comprehension, exactly. He maintained his interest, and decided to make his first real gambit of the conversation. "Well, it's just...if you need more cat litter, I can get some back in the, uh, waking world pretty easily. If you need that and all." He could definitely smell that some litter was needed, though that seemed to be entirely from Eddy's cage.

The cat leaned forward away from the piano while it spoke.

"Yes, yes." The cat said waving his hand in the air to clear the haze of smoke that hung in the air.

"Litter. And a good scratching post. Most of these artifacts are not to be scratched. But scratching is needed none the less."

He took a final drag of the cigarette, then exhaled as his took the stub from the filter and put it out in the glass ashtray with a practiced hand or paw, as it were.

"What is it you want? Have I not done what Crowley asked? You have the books to solve your problem. Perhaps you seek another object or trade of some kind? I must tell you that your destiny awaits you in the cave. Shall we not move on to other topics that you had mentioned earlier in your inquiries? Eddy or Bradford I believe were both topics of interest."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:39, Wed 26 Sept 2018.

Shawn nodded seriously, as at least his offer didn't offend the cat like he'd worried. "Yeah, I was wondering what happened to Eddy. Why's he all...like that?"

"It happens that way sometimes. Things are dragged into the Underworld. This place is unpredictable. The landings of those from above are not always as smooth as they would be. For we who dwell in these settings are among the world of the dead. And this world is marked by chaos not order." The cat explained to Shawn in a soft and reasonable voice marked by what sounded like genuine interest in the conversation.

"Of course, there is chaos in the living world above. But mostly order. And there is order here. But mostly chaos. Nothing is one way or the other. Men who act as if there are, are likely fools and ripe for the whims of other men and other ideas to take hold of them and control their actions."

"If I were to guess on what happened to Rufus" The cat gestured towards Eddy, indicating that that was what he called Eddy, "I would have to guess that he came here and didn't land as softly, probably because he did not understand that he was entering into the Underworld that is marked by chaos. Each time men travel here from Order, there is a risk of something terrible that might befall such a man. Sometimes it is the location of the desired landing, other times it is sanity itself. However he got here, it is ultimately inconsequential. Rufus is here. And he is a good addition to the atmosphere in the shop. Once he is crate trained, I will let him roam about and he will have free access to the wares. I must first train him not to chew certain objects, not just because they are precious, but for his own safety." Little Stone said, seeming to regard Eddy as a dog, but with a strange sense of affection for Eddy.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:24, Fri 28 Sept 2018.

"Rrrruff!...Rrrruff!" Eddy barked, as if recognizing the name 'Rufus' from within the cage. He did a little circle on his knees and then pressed his grimy face up to the cage, eyes wide, cheeks marked with streaks of brown feces.

Shawn stayed guarded when he realised that the cat intended to keep Rufus. This might come down to a negotiation or a theft, and he didn't want to telegraph his intentions. "So there's no way to fix whatever happened? What if he was sent back to the waking world?"

The cat sounded surprised by Shawn's question.


"Back?" The cat asked, taking a swig from the short whiskey glass and placing on the piano. "Rufus could go back." The cat nodded. "But why? What would he have there that he wouldn't have here? And what would he do differently that he doesn't do now?" The question phrased as if they were speaking about a dog that did tricks of some kind. A dog that would do tricks here or there or anywhere.

"Perhaps we could discuss that once you take time to think about those questions. It is not something to rush into now." Little Stone remarked, oblivious to Shawn's desire, or not putting much importance on it. He turned on the piano bench and reached across with both paws to the top of the piano, having trouble grasping a round object without opposable thumbs. Then he swiveled back to face Shawn, holding the object between two paws.

It was an hour glass, amber sand running through it, silent as time itself.

"You cannot delay on such things now. Your time here is limited. If you do not return soon, you will never return. I trust that Crowley informed  you of this on the way over here?" Little Stone asked. "That you know of such things already?" he asked, raising another possibility.

"Well know this: Bradford's resentment knows what you've done. Many of the things you've done. It knows what put you up to it and it might take that as a mitigation in the act and the intent. Which I would any man in his wrongdoing. It is not my affair. But there's the question of property. You bring me the Rabbit's Foot now. Then I will extract it's essence and tell you everything and more."

"I mean, back in the waking world, he's a kid who can walk and talk and read and all sorts of stuff. He wore clothes and didn't eat his poop." But Shawn saw that the cat was moving past it, and didn't dare push it until he'd learned all he could.

"Crowley didn't tell me, but Bradford said we have to get out of here soon or else our bodies will die." He paid close attention to the rest of the explanation, though, and thought he recognised some of the things the shopkeep was talking about. "Bradford's resentment? He told me that he put all that in...are you talking about Mr. Clayton? What does he have to do with escaping?"

The cat picked up the whiskey glass, somehow able to do so without bending a paw pad, the object looking like it was Velcroed to its paw for a second as it sipped and then drew it's tongue across the front of its teeth. Then it placed the short glass back on the piano.

"Bradford was correct. The waking cannot spend too much time down here among the dead." He noted, and his eyes cast a knowing glance at Eddy, as if his bestial state might have something to do with the very theme they were discussing. Still, the cat let it go, leaving behind the subject of Eddy and moving towards what now was the subject of Bradford and Mr. Clayton.

"Bradford and Mr. Clayton are one and the same. Yet they are also two distinct parts of the same whole. Do you understand?" The cat asked, expecting Shawn to answer before he continued into a deeper explanation.

Shawn caught the glance to Eddy, and filed it away for later, but didn't press it. For now, he was happy to let the cat direct the conversation. At least now it was talking about things Shawn mostly understood. "Sure, it's like a real dummy - it only does stuff that Bradford wants it to do...except it's just got Bradford's angriness inside it. And it's magical so it can do stuff on its own without Bradford sometimes."

The cat seemed more capable with every sip of the whiskey, the amber liquid making his words simpler to understand and more digestible to a child Shawn's age. Or maybe it had just gotten used to talking to Shawn in the tent and had adapted its mode of speaking. Either way, it  picked up the whiskey glass and once again took a small sip, running its tongue along the front of its mouth.

"Yes." it stated, confirming what Shawn had finished saying. "It's....angriness." Little Stone said deliberately, letting the word form in its small cat mouth, trying it on and seeing how it felt.

Now it spoke with renewed clarity, as if tasting Shawn's words and trying them on made it less wordy. None of what it said came across as patronizing, but rather, an attempt to connect with Shawn, to build off of Shawn's statement about the puppet.

"Everyone has been angry and knows what anger is. Anger can be sparked by a variety of things: people, events, memories. Anger is a natural emotion. However, anger can get out of control. Anger is a natural response to certain threats. As a result, aggression is sometimes the appropriate response to anger, as it allows us to defend ourselves. A certain amount of anger is necessary." It said, reading off the words like a simple textbook come to life.

"The puppet has Bradford's angriness inside it. But why is Bradford angry?"

Shawn looked away for a moment, knowing exactly what the answer to the question was but not wanting to simply say it out loud. Even here, in some strange underworld, in a conversation with a talking cat, he hated to be seen as a bad person. But eventually he sighed and gave in, assuming the cat probably already knew the answer anyway. "He's angry at me because I hurt him. I didn't have a choice, but it still happened."

Little Stone regarded Shawn with cool, glinting eyes that betrayed no judgment. He took another sip of the whisky, now letting the glass sit his lap.

"There are so many, many set backs and disappointments in among men in their given life times. But for Bradford, it appears that his resentment at the basic suffering of life is something he had been unable to overcome. It grows like a weed in a garden. An aggressive vine, snaking its way and choking out all other forms of life until it consumes all of him."

"That is what Mr. Clayton is. So you see that both are the same."

Shawn nodded, understanding more or less what the cat said, and secretly relieved there was no judgement in it. Still, he knew there had to be a reason for this explanation, something the cat knew or understood that Shawn didn't. "Well...what can be done about it? I know Bradford and Mr. Clayton are separated now, will that fix it?"

Little Stone's cat ears folded back for a second and then pushed forward. Then the cat shook his head.

"Each man's travel and battle against his own resentment at life's suffering his is own journey. A man can keep the evil out of a town or city. But then he quickly finds evil and treachery within the same walls of that city. Inside the city. A man can work to root out that evil. But then that same man will find that there is evil and treachery within his own heart." Little Stone explained.

"Perhaps circumstances led Bradford to this. And you as well. Fair enough. It appears upon first judgement that you've not the heart of a common assassin. No assassin. And no partisan either. However, there's a flawed place in the fabric of your heart. In Bradford's heart. In all hearts of men who walk among the wakeful."

It appeared the cat was unable or unwilling to simply provide a magic token or a quick fix to the problem. There was a ever present sense that events were unfolding according to their own logic. As if time itself were pushing Shawn closer and closer to a confrontation within the great cave at the top of this mountain in what the cat and Bradford had called the Underworld.

The message was more incomprehensible than usual, but Shawn didn’t let it show. He simply nodded his head. “Thank you for your wisdom. I’ll keep that in mind for later.” Hopefully now they could talk about Eddy. Or Rufus?

Little Stone didn't seem to notice that his words had grown very much 'adult-like' and he continued.

"Each man on his own journey. Each man is in a battle against himself. Bradford knows that you hurt him and now Mr. Clayton is going to take his revenge on you. Or try to take his revenge. That is, Bradford will take his revenge on you. Because Mr. Clayton and Bradford are the same." Little Stone explained.

The cat glanced at the hour glass. More sand had past from the top to the bottom. Little Stone's eyes returned to Shawn.

"Mr. Clayton is inside the cave. And that is where Bradford is as well, because the Dragon brought him there. And Mr. Clayton showed up later." Little Stone said. "I know because I saw it. They past then tent some time ago. A little girl was with them. A girl with blonde hair. She didn't look good. She looked injured." Little Stone told Shawn.

"I do not have an objective in any fight." He said, proclaiming his neutrality. "I am here because being at the top of the Krinner is the best place to see all that is going on in this land of Chaos. If someone asks something of me, then I willing to barter. But that is all."

“Mr. Clayton’s here? And one of the girls survived? Do you know who?” Shawn’s ears pricked up at the mention of bartering. “Do you have anything that’ll stop a dragon from eating me? Or convince Bradford to forgive me?”

"No. I do not have anything like that that can help you." Little Stone shrugged. He stretched out his arms and yawned, and then settled himself onto his haunches. Suddenly, he sprang from the piano bench and took to the air, bathrobe flapping behind him and trailing like the cape of some kind of super crusader. He landed gracefully on the spine of a nearby plush, red, couch, where he came to a sitting position. The bathrobe hung around his arms like long, green wizard sleeves.

"I take to barter." Little Stone agreed "But I would also like to resolve the issue of property before we get into the barter. You have the stack of letters as Crowley suggested. And, you still have the Rabbit's Foot." He pointed out.

"What are your intentions with the letters? Will you do as Crowley instructed and place them in the Dream Box for travel to Griffix's mind? And what of the Rabbit's Foot? Will you part with it so that I may divine additional information regarding your journey into the cave and the whereabouts of the dragon and Mr. Clayton?"

Shawn couldn't help but tense up as the cat suddenly leapt into the air, but he stayed outwardly calm and tried to come up with an intelligent reply. "Hang on, the letters will travel into Griffix's mind? And would I get the rabbit's foot back afterwards? The fortuneteller told me I had to keep the foot safe..."

Little Stone shrugged. Maybe. At least it looked like a shrug. The small shoulder of the cat bobbed up once, though it could have easily been the prelude to a licking motion, as one hind leg came up. Little Stone licked the paw of the hind leg and then placed it down on the couch again.


"The letters will go under your bed. When you wake up, Griffix will have already eaten them. " Little Stone explained. "The Rabbit's Foot is only something worth destroying if you get something from it. In this case, a glimpse at the cave."

Shawn shuffled awkwardly in place, realising he had to make a big decision without understanding the ultimate consequences. As always, he looked for another way out, some way to get what he wanted without giving up anything he needed. "Is there any way to do it without the rabbit's foot? A substitute or something?"

Little Stone considered. He ran his tongue again along the front of his teeth. His left paw came up to scratch at the left ear. Then he stretched out his back before resuming the sitting position.

"Yes." he hopped off the couch, landing once again gracefully. Then he walked over to what looked like a large, black witches cauldron. It was a huge thing that sat, perhaps unmoved for a long time. The cauldron was black with two huge handles on each side. Little Stone hopped over to once side, landing on a handling, robe settling around him. "This is not as accurate as destroying the Rabbit's foot. Who knows what we might see."

Shawn followed the cat over to the cauldron with interest. "That'd be amazing! You're really good at this!" His praise was effusive and mostly genuine, but also calculated to flatter and make a good impression. He knew there were still negotiations ahead.

"Really?" Little Stone asked with genuine interest.

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Empathy + Striking Looks + Specialization (?) With the following results:

0 Successes: Flattery will get you nowhere

1-4 Successes: Shawn gets a +3 bonus to any dice rolls trying to negotiate this scene

5+ Successes: Shawn gets a +5 bonus to any dice rolls trying to negotiate this scene

Shawn nodded cheerfully, the picture of sincerity.


OOC: 11:28, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 2 successes using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 2,4,9,4,8.  Wits + Empathy + Striking Looks.

"I do try my best. But I tend only to appear when someone or something crosses the Krinner that has a choice to make. This could be a spirit, or rarely, someone from the waking world." Little Stone explained.

"Hand me that jar of feathers, would you?" The cauldron sat on top of a small pile of chopped wood and kindling. Shawn looked to his right and saw a glass jar filled with gray plumage on a Berber table. Next to it sat a tea pot, probably made of tin.

Shawn went over to the jar of feathers and carefully picked them up, making sure not to even brush up against the teapot, lest he knock it over or worse. "That sounds really graceful when you think about it. You're only here when you need to be, so there's no wasted effort, right?" He passed the jar up to the cat. "So what kind of choice was Eddy, or, uh, Rufus here to make?"

Little Stone managed to pluck two feathers from the jar, paw stretching until Shawn could see the formation of opposable thumbs. Then he screwed the jar lid back on tight and handed it back to Shawn. "Please put that back." he said, referring to the jar. Then he gently placed the feathers into the cauldron.

"Oh no. I didn't find Rufus at the Krinner" Little Stone corrected. "Rufus was wandering out past the Krinner. That's where I found him. So he wasn't present to make any choices.

Little Stone's one paw reached towards a large spoon, tall enough to stick out of the Cauldron. It was about Shawn's height. He gently stirred the feathers in, continuing to explain. "I spotted him from where we are now on top of the mountain. And I heard his barks and wails of pain. Means and ends are of little moment here. Idle speculations.  All in the fullness of time." Little Stone pondered. "The question you should be asking is who's choice brought me here in the first place. Who's choice put me in a position to see Rufus from on top of the Krinner from which we stand. The answer is simple:"

"Bradford's choice."

Shawn took the jar back and returned it to its former resting place. "What sort of choice is Bradford supposed to make?" He was standing on his toes a little, trying to see what was inside the cauldron - was it just the feathers in there, or was there other stuff - when a thought occurred to him. "If you're talking to me, does that mean you've already spoken with Bradford?"

"Yes. Of course. I have already spoken with Bradford.

And I must provide a 'Correction.' A decision was already made by Bradford. Bradford chose to remain with his anger. To remain with Mr. Clayton. He is consumed by it. It governs his actions. His thoughts. His desires. He wants revenge more than candy. Mr. Clayton is this anger. And Bradford, or most of him, has been lost to this creature of anger. It was never me. I do not make decisions. I simply provide the warning of the roads that lay ahead. It is only those who come to the Krinner that have to make big decisions. Those are the ones to decide. Bradford was unable to break free from his anger. He is still in there somewhere. But I fear it is too late for anything to be salvaged. Now that he has made his decision, he is unable to be convinced by any means." he said

Shawn was a little suspicious of the cat's denial about not having convinced Bradford. It was very specific, and it wasn't like Shawn had accused him of doing it. But he didn't show his suspicion and simply nodded seriously at the explanation. "So...if you're talking to me know, it means I have a big choice too? And one of those choices is to try and convince Bradford to let go of Mr. Clayton?"

"Oh I'm afraid not." The cat replied, and now it was mixing a small vial of liquid into the cauldron which it had produced from a nearby shelf. The green liquid oozed out into the pot. Then Little Stone capped it and placed it back onto the shelf.

"Crows feet please." He ordered, thrusting a paw in the direction of a different shelf, indicating that he wanted Shawn to pass him half a dozen dried and very dead bird feet that were bound together with a brown string.

He commenced stirring the pot and elaborated on his dismissal of Shawn's statement. "I'm afraid Mr. Clayton is not conceivably able to be convinced. And therefore Bradford is not able to be convinced. What man would not be protected from outside influence if he could?" The cat asked rhetorically.

"Mr. Clayton has taken extra steps of his own to maintain this state." Little Stone explained, clearly implying some kind of magic. "The Puppet is the Puppeteer. It is a sort of magic, but that is too broad and supernatural of a word to use. It is more of a trade or hobby. It is called 'Greater Ventriloquism.'  And with it and the result of Bradford's decision, I'm afraid convincing is all but out of the question."

"I do not know the specifics of your choice. But I do know that it has something to do with Bradford and Mr. Clayton and what you plan on doing as a result of Bradford's decision."

"I knew it!" Shawn had always suspected that Mr. Clayton was in charge now, but this was confirmation. Of course, it didn't tell him what he could do about that if it was true. He went to the bird feet and gingerly started passing them to the cat. "What choice did Bradford make?"

"Bradford chose to let Mr. Clayton lead him and to let Mr. Clayton direct him. Bradford is motivated by his hatred and rage." The cat replied.

"And Mr. Clayton led him into the cave where they both wait for you. Bradford, or Mr. Clayton, for in some sense they are one and the same....are waiting for you in the cave. They wait to enact their revenge against to. They seek vengeance. They want you to suffer like Bradford has suffered." Little Stone explained.

"And they want to enjoy it."

After a few seconds of silence, the only sound was the stirring of the pot. The liquid inside now beginning to bubble. "The brew is almost ready, quick, pass me the jar of soul rock powder." Little Stone pointed to a jar of soul rock. It sat on the edge of a shelf nearest to Shawn, instantly recognizable for its purple tone and color of the powder within.

Shawn picked up the jar, treating it almost like a bomb that'd go off if he was even a little careless with it. He handed it off to the cat and then stepped back from the pot, not wanting to be near when it was poured in. "That's not fair. I was here to rescue him from the dragon and everything..."

"None of it is fair." The cat agreed, a tone of somberness in its voice.

He pointed towards the first images appearing the bubbling cauldron. Blue mist shrouded the water. The mist parted and a low-resolution, blurry scene played out between the bubbles and soupy mix. The cat added the contents of the jar, chunks of soul rock calmed the stew, the images becoming clearer and clearer as the scene took focus.

Delilah was running through the egg briar patch, the sound of the Pink rabbit behind her. She ran and crouched and then turned around and was suddenly grabbed by the monster. After a short struggle, it looked like it was going to tear her apart.

Then Little Stone waved a hand a the mist and the water settled, the images fading away, sparing Shawn the image of Delilah's final moment before death.

"Was that fair? What happened to that little girl at the hands of the Pink Monstrosity?" Little Stone asked. It wasn't clear if the question was rhetorical or not.

"This girl who died...was she someone you knew? She is certainly from the world of the living." He added.

Shawn flinched and looked away even before the image cut from the moment of Delilah's death. He knew what was going to happen, and didn't want to add imagery of her genuine last moments to his nightmares. "She was a girl I knew. She hated me, but she didn't deserve to die. She'd still be alive if Bradford hadn't sent us here..."

"Wuuuf! Wuuf! Wuuf!" Eddy suddenly barked from the corner.

"Shhhhhh." The cat reproached Eddy. "The next images are coming. If you keep barking then we'll have to brew another cauldron. "You were born bad, and you have wandered bad past the Krinner. Who knows how you got here Rufus. But you have lived bad, and your mind has died bad, in all probability.”

"Now look!" He said motioning towards the bubbling stew as the mist parted again. This time, the clear image of Mr. Clayton could be seen in the water.

"He wasn't a bad kid..." Shawn said it softly, almost to himself, not wanting to distract anyone. But then he saw Mr. Clayton, and couldn't hide a visceral sense of fear, the one he felt in the pit of his stomach every time he saw the dummy. Even though they were in theory looking from a distance, he still felt a fear that Mr. Clayton might somehow see or hear him.

The image seemed to swirl in the bubbling water. Bradford was in a chair, his face a mold of stone. His glasses sat on the edge of his nose, slightly lopsided to the right. He was sitting fully erect, like a doll that someone had placed unnaturally in that position. He wasn't even blinking.

His right hand was in the puppet but Mr. Clayton moved with an alacrity and grace that seemed to defy Bradford's stiff demeanor. Shawn could hear a 'clanging' sound. It was the sound of Mr. Clayton hammering something. Shawn couldn't hear Mr. Clayton, but knew somehow, that the puppet was working on something.

"Both of us trying to find meaning in a meaningless world! Why be a disfigured outcast when you can get revenge? Why should I be wooden puppet when I can be a real boy, just like Pinocchio?" The puppet joked.

Shawn picked up right away that Bradford didn't seem to be doing anything, and wondered what that meant. If Mr. Clayton was Bradford's rage and frustration, seeing the rest of him just sitting there inactive was probably a bad thing. He leaned in towards the cauldron, trying to see what exactly Mr. Clayton was working on. He didn't like the sound of Mr. Clayton being a "real boy"...he'd always been afraid of Pinocchio.

Shawn could see that Mr. Clayton was trying to make some kind of adjustment to a magic eight-ball. "Let's see....a little bit of this....a little bit of that...."

"PRESTO!! Now we're inside of Shawn's wish! What do ya' think of that Bradford 'ol Buddy!?" Mr. Clayton asked.

Bradford sat stiff an unblinking as a puppet would. His legs were rigid. His eyes were open, his face emotionless.

"Now, let's see..." Mr. Clayton said. He should the eight-ball once or twice. Shawn couldn't see through the water what the triangle read in the eight-ball as it floated up to the top to press against the plastic and reveal an answer to a question. But he did hear Mr. Clayton say.

"Ha! There. We've changed some things for Bobby and Ralph. Now we can get them too."

Shawn looked on in horror, only barely staying away from the edge of the pot. "He went inside my wish? He can do that? Is the stuff I wished for still there?"

Little Stone:

"Shh..." the cat cautioned. "Just listen and watch, or the image of past deeds will fade like a dream does to the waker."

"Hmmmm....I can't seem to stop the wish before it gets to the proprietor. But let's see....." Mr. Clayton shook the magic eightball. Then he turned towards another object that was sitting on a rickety table. It was the Fortune Teller's crystal ball. A strange glow came out of the ball and seemed to touch the eightball.

"There we go! Yucka Yucka!" Mr. Clayton delighted, realizing that whatever had happened was happening. "Now Bobby and Ralph really are here! Now we know where they are and what they're doing! Now they...."

Mr. Clayton looked into the Crystal Ball. Shawn couldn't see the images the puppet was observing, but could tell that the puppet wasn't happy.

"That wasn't what I wanted to do!" He complained, realizing that whatever change to the wish he was making, hadn't really gone the way he wanted it to.

"Oh well. I guess we'll just have to kidnap them." Mr. Clayton said, looking at Bradford. Bradford didn't move from the chair. His expression hadn't changed.

Shawn clammed up, not wanting to disrupt the viewing any further. Seeing the crystal ball confirmed a sneaking suspicion he'd had before, but seeing the way Bradford was acting was making him come to a realisation...He'd been told he was here to make a choice, and he had a sneaking suspicion he might know what it was. And he didn't like it; it meant he'd have to talk to Mr. Clayton, and do something he'd never wanted to do...

"There!" Mr. Clayton rejoiced. "We changed the wish! And now Ralph and Bobby are stuck here with all of us. Now we can make our revenge on Shawn as painful and long as you always wanted it to be 'ol buddy! Yucka, yucka, yucka!!" Mr. Clayton looked towards Bradford for some kind of response, the way a comedian might judge a crowd to see if a joke was funny.

Bradford sat unmoved like a stone statue. His arm bounced up and down with Mr. Clayton's movements, still rigidly inserted in between the puppet's shoulder blades and up his back.

"Geez. Rough crowd tonight." Mr. Clayton grumbled at Bradford's lack of response.

Shawn didn't want to interrupt the vision in the cauldron, so when he talked he kept his voice low. "Where are they? I need to talk to Mr. Clayton."

Little Stone:

"This event already happened." the cat answered in a voice equally as low as Shawn's, but with a purring, feline pitch. "See the how the mist is blue? That is not the result of an event that is ongoing." Little Stone concluded.

And then, just as suddenly, Shawn saw that the mist surrounding the witches brew had turned a deep, burgundy red. Tendrils of smoke brushed themselves across the image, obscuring it at first and then erasing it. The smoke tendrils, Shawn could tell, as if they were speaking to his mind, were now showing him something ongoing.

"The stew has responded to your desire." Little Stone explained in a whisper as if not to disturb the witche's brew and its work. "It will show us what is happening now...."


As the smoke cleared, Shawn saw Bobby and Ralph sitting Indian-style against the backdrop of an orange, rock outcrop. A cliff soared above them, the mountain that Shawn had climbed to get to Little Stone's tent far, far above them.

Their faces were dirty. Ralph had purple bruises and a few scratches on his face. The image turned crisper still, like a Polaroid picture coming into focus just after shooting out of the bottom of a camera.

Bobby had a rag stuffed in his mouth and sported a large scratch that was bleeding on the side of his face. His hands were bound behind his back.

In front of them, Mr. Clayton pranced around the bottom of the cliff where Shawn had left both Ralph and Bobby just a few hundred yards away. He did a little jig, wooden legs and arms all loose and uncoordinated with malicious glee.

Shawn suppressed a shout that might disrupt the vision when he saw Bobby and Ralph. Mr. Clayton was close, very close! "Please hold this as long as you can."

Then he rushed out of the tent, heading quickly to the cliff's edge he'd come up from. Once he reached the edge, he cupped his hands over his mouth and called down the cliff. "Mr. Clayton! I want to talk with you!"

Shawn ran out of the tent and felt the stinging wind against his face, bits of sand peppering his cheeks, footfalls trudging on top of the mountain until he reached the cliff.

He shouted.

There was an echo that resonated into the valley below and further across the desert sand. Shawn heard his own voice fade into that vast Underworld.

And he heard no response.

But Shawn did see something. Down at the bottom of the cliff where he had climbed, Bobby and Ralph were no longer there. No longer looking up at him. They were gone. Disappeared as if the Underworld or perhaps Mr. Clayton himself had whisked them away.

Yet, at the bottom of the cliff, barely visible because of the distance, there was a familiar figure squatting against the outcrop of the rock.

Crowley.

He was leaning with one side against a barrel-sized rock, short feet out in front of him.

Shawn tried to find any trace of Bobby or Ralph, or any hint of where Mr. Clayton had gone. He saw the sad little figure leaning against some rocks and called out to him. "Crowley! Are you okay?!"

There was nothing but the vast landscape extending out before the great mountain. In the distance, Shawn could see the desert from where he had crossed to get to the rocky mountain.

Down below where Shawn shouted, was equally bereft of movement. Crowley just sat there in the same position, feet out in front of him, head resting against the hand and the large rock as if he was contemplating something. He offered no response or movement to Shawn's calls.

The wind picked up, a few quick gusts, carried Shawn's words out to the Underworld wilderness, amplifying the echo and the resonance of his urgent calls.

But there was no answer.

Shawn stayed for a few more moments, watching for any sign of movement. When nothing happened, he rushed back to the tent, slowing a little as he reached the entrance so he didn't disrupt the pot inside with loud noises or sudden movements.

"Woof! Woof!" Eddy-Rufus barked in a human's voice as Shawn entered the tent. Eddy gave a wide grinned smile, face covered with feces.

Little Stone:

"You have returned." Little Stone remarked, stating the obvious. "It appears as though Mr. Clayton has taken ownership of your friends. This is not surprising, given the choice that Bradford made when he crossed into my tent. It seems that he is unable to overcome his resentment. it has totally consumed him."

Shawn went straight to the pot, trying to see if he could see Crowley, or if it had followed Mr. Clayton to wherever he was keeping Ralph and Bobby. "I know, but I think I know what choice I'm supposed to make now...Did you see if Crowley was all right?"

Little Stone:

"I didn't." Little Stone stated, peering into the bubbling cauldron for any signs that it might tell him about Crowley.

The mist began to form again. This time it focused clearly in on Crowley who was leaning against the rock. The mist was too foggy to ascertain Crowley's position or even make out his facial features, outside of his obvious barbed teeth and broad, gaping maw of a smile. Shawn did catch a glimpse of something that he could see from far up on the cliff.

There were papers. All of them were scattered around Crowley as if someone had dropped a pile of letters near him. Envelopes and individual sheets all crumpled up and smeared with illegible ink. The view was too obscured to detect what might be written on them. And Crowley appeared to be sleeping or at least not interested in what had been written on them.

I do not know what could mean Little Stone advised, clearly talking about the papers at the bottom of the cliff near Crowley.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:24, Mon 29 Oct 2018.

Shawn immediately glanced towards the Dream Shoot, wondering if these papers resembled the ones that he had sent to his 'waking' self not long ago. He scrutinized Crowley carefully - the little creature didn't seem to be bleeding or otherwise visibly hurt. He felt his panic rising, but the calm impassiveness of his host was oddly anchoring. He had to stay calm, to figure out a way to put his ideas into effect. He finally managed to get himself under control and looked over at the cat. "Do you know where Mr. Clayton is now?"

The Dream Shoot sat there unmoved and, in fact, dusty. It appeared that no one had placed anything in it for quite some time, or at least not frequently. The letters around Crowley that appeared in the Cauldron did not resemble at all the yellowed parchments that were neatly stacked and tied together with a brown piece of string. Those were the documents that Shawn looked at now, adjacent to the Dream Shoot.

Little Stone:

"Oh yes." Little Stone stated. "I can, in fact, confirm that he in the cave, for that is where he went with Bradford to plan a confrontation with you."

Shawn felt a sense of relief, and then did a bit of a double take. Hadn't he already put those parchments inside the Shoot? He'd have to make sure he did it before he left the tent, anyway. But right now he had some rather pressing questions. "They're planning to confront me? Can you tell with what? Is there anything else in that cave?"

Little Stone:

Little Stone remained unmoved. "No one is invulnerable. Not to any stretch of the imagination." He spoke out loud as his eyes remained fixed on the Cauldron.

Then, without moving his eyes, his paw shot out from his Wizard-sleeve bathrobe to point at a shelf. "The jar of eyeballs." He summoned. "Take it off the shelf and pass it to me." Little Stone's feline gaze stared into the bubbling depths of the witches brew, not even looking at Shawn.

Shawn wasn't entirely sure who was being referenced when Little Stone talked about everyone being vulnerable, but he didn't have enough time to pursue that line of questioning. He went to the shelf and grabbed the jar of eyeballs. He passed it to the cat gently, not wanting either of them to spill it unnecessarily.

Little Stone:

Little Stone pressed one paw against the lid of the jar, the other around its side and began to twist.

'Pop!'

The top of the jar opened with a loud sucking noise. Immediately, a rank, sour smell came out from the jar, making Shawn's eyes water. Little Stone tipped the contents of the jar over and began to count.

"One....Two...Three..Four..Five..Six...Seven eyeballs. Anymore and the visions might not be accurate. Let us hope that these eyes may see past whatever screen Mr. Clayton as put up to block our insight" He finished, tongue moving across the front of cat teeth, as he sat the jar upright and fastened the lid on once again, handing it back to Shawn.

"Now, let's see..."

OOC: Little Stone Rolls 7d10 vs. Mr. Clayton's 7d10 with the following results:

0 Successes: Nothing. Whatever was meant to be seen, Mr. Clayton's magic has blocked it.

1-3 Successes more than Mr. Clayton. Some of the eyeballs begin to glow.

4+ Succcesses: Most of the eyeballs begin to glow

06:16, Today: Little Stone failed (no successes) using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((4,5,1,7,6,3,6)).

06:17, Today: Bradford's Puppet - Mr. Clayton rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s ((1,1,7,9,2,5,4)).

Little Stone:


Little Stone's face grew worried. The eyeballs sank deep into the bubbling brew and did not resurface.

"Nothing." Little Stone announced. "Nothing at all. It appears that Mr. Clayton and Bradford have used Greater Ventriloquism to prevent us from using such things as the Sven Eyes. Nothing can be done to learn what is in the cave."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Fri 02 Nov 2018.

"Rrrrrrrr...RUFF!" Eddy-Rufus barked from his cage, in a sudden, violent warning. It was as if the bark was a verbal, grammatical period to Little Stone's conclusion.

Shawn tried to hide his look of disappointment. "I guess I'd better go after him myself, then. But first, I want to talk about Eddy-Rufus. Is there any way I can bring him back to his body? I know his family misses him..."

Little Stone:


Little Stone's face grew perplexed this time.

"But why?" Little Stone asked. "Rufus seems happy hear. He no longer has to worry about wandering alone out past the Krinner. He has a crate and is well fed. If you bring him back to the waking world, he might not understand."

The stack of letters that Shawn had already placed in the Dream shoot began to hop along the counter, depositing themselves and then disappearing with a 'whoosh!' sound one they were completely inside.

Little Stone gave a glance at the sound and then back at Shawn. "Do not pay that any mind. Actions of time and do not necessarily apply in the same ratio here as in the waking world, see?" He jutted his paw out at the jar of eyeballs. Several eyeballs hopped out of the jar and into the witches brew just as they had several moments ago, in a strange, echoing repetition of something that had already happened.

"Sometimes I have to remind myself." Little Stone acknowledged.

"Isn't there a way to bring his mind back? I know you said it got broken when it came here, but wouldn't that go away if he got sent back? And even if it did...you said time and actions are different here - couldn't you just put him back to the way he was before?" Shawn had seen the cat perform enough magic in front of him that he assumed the issue was more of willingness than capability.

The cat turned his head towards the entrance of the tent. Shawn watched as a ghostly figure peeled back the flap and entered the tent:

It was Shawn. Or some kind of ether-ghostly form of Shawn. It moved with transparent, other-wordly grace, floating across the floor with panic spread across its face. The form was blurry around the edges. Ghostly Shawn ran up alongside Shawn, its voice thin and distant as it spoke

"Do you know where Mr. Clayton is now?" Ghostly Shawn asked, using the same voice that Shawn had used just moments earlier. It sounded distant and somehow caught in the past. Then the ghostly apparition disappeared, just as it had appeared, vanishing into nothingness right in front of Shawn.

Little Stone:


Little Stone didn't seem phased by the apparition, just as he wasn't phased by the stack of papers near the dream shoot that had already been placed inside.

"Maybe" Little Stone said. "You can take Rufus if you like to trade." Little Stone agreed. "But it isn't obvious that anything resembling your mind would fit in his. Whatever happened to Rufus, happened to him beyond the Krinner where he was sent and where he was wandering. You have to understand: The Krinner, what this mountain is called where we stand, is at the very edge of The Underworld. Who knows what is out there and what things he may have encountered? What parts of him he may have lost? Whatever he lost is out there. We sit at the very edge of the Krinner. This is the end point. I wouldn't recommend going past the interior of the cave. And certainly you do not want to go too far out into the cave itself in your meeting with Mr. Clayton. You might wander beyond this mountain, beyond the Krinner."

"The cave takes you beyond the Krinner?" Shawn furrowed his brow - it didn't seem to make sense that going into a cave inside a mountain would take him outside of the place where the mountain was. But then again, nothing much about this place made any sense. "Even if I found whatever he lost, how would I even put it back there? And what would you take in trade?"

Little Stone:


"The cave will take you beyond the Krinner, yes." Little Stone confirmed.

Little Stone pondered the trade and thought a bit about what it might mean. "I like to eat dead things. Perhaps if you brought me a dead mouse or two, I would be able to part with Rufus." He looked over at Eddy-Rufus

Shawn looked around the shop like he was expecting to see a mouse scurrying around here somewhere. He hadn't seen much in the way of native life here in the Krinner that wasn't quite large and trying to kill him. "Umm, do you accept payment from the waking world? I don't think there's many mice here, but I bet I could find some there." He gave the cat his most trustworthy smile.

"no, that won't do." Little Stone said. "You can offer a promise if you like. If you promise to bring me the mice later, that will suffice"

"You'll have to tell me how to get them to you, but that sounds reasonable." Shawn nodded a little vaguely, a little distracted by a potential impending confrontation with Mr. Clayton. But he dragged himself back to reality when he realised he might get ripped off. "But if I bring you two mice, I should probably get two things in exchange, right? That's nice and fair. If you've got something in your shop I can use, that'd be nice, but maybe you could give me some knowledge instead?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:24, Tue 13 Nov 2018.

Little Stone:


"Wait a second...." Little Stone said, thinking things over. "Are you....trying to negotiate?"

Little Stone said the words as if he was surprised. It was more than surprise. It was astonishment. The cat raised its eyebrows. "So?....are you?"

Shawn cocked his head to one side, a little confused at the reaction he got. "Weren't you doing that too? You made an offer with mice for Rufus, I thought that's what you wanted me to do?"

Little Stone:


Little Stone himself looked confused. Then he nodded. Then he shook himself like a cat trying to get water out after being in the rain. The fabric of his bathrobe flapped and then settled. Then the cat looked at the hour glass.

The sand in it had almost run out.

"Yes...." Little Stone acknowledged. "But we must hurry. Time is running out. If you don't get back to the waking world soon, then you'll be herethe Underworld forever. Already our conversation is being interrupted. You feel it don't you? The idea that things are making less and less sense."

"I'm not sure about two things.." Little Stone said, buckling down to negotiate

OOC: Shawn Rolls Wits + Socialize + striking Looks + This Threads Bonus with the following results

0 Successes: Shawn agrees to the deal, lost in the hard negotiations, he gets nothing further out of Little Stone. Further, he looses the Rabbits Foot in the deal

1-3 Success: Shawn gets something out of Little Stone: He Keeps the Rabbit's Foot and then Little Stone gives him the opportunity to pick one thing from the wares

4+ Successes: Shawn gets something out of Little Stone: He Keeps the Rabbit's Foot and then Little Stone gives him the opportunity to pick two things from the wares

OOC: 07:54, Today: Shawn Cramer rolled 3 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 9,9,1,7,1,1,8,3. Wits + Socialize + Striking Looks + 3.

Little Stone:


Little Stone said "Fine, the deal is done. But you should pick out something and in a hurry. You would need to hurry anyhow and trust that I will send Rufus to you. He is in no condition to go through the cave. Nor can he scale down the mountain and ask Crowley where your friends have gone. Truly, I will send him to you, on this you can rely."

"Now, best you pick something out. And if you have any questions, please ask now. Oh, and I can send what you want through the dream shoot at a time of your choosing so you do not have to carry it with you" He added.


This left Shawn in a state of hurried pause. It was as if he was running in place. The kind of moment where an adults says, 'Pick out a toy before I get to the front door of Toys R' Us and leave.' It was a feeling that all kids had faced at one time or another.

Shawn glanced around the mountains of objects while Eddie-Rufus barked a yippy bark. A tall, clay jar stood out above the rest. Then there was a series of small, empty frames. Amid the pile, a crooked frame was filled with a painting made of acrylic brush strokes, purple, orange and pink. There were amulets and jewels on an adjacent table. The whole thing was almost overwhelming to look through.

Shawn looked around the shop, but since he didn't know what these things did, he didn't really have much to go on. He'd just have to ask and hope it worked out... "If I'm hurrying, maybe you can help me? I think I'm going to need to make someone a promise, and even if they don't trust me, I need them to know I'm telling the truth. Do you have something that does that?"

Little Stone:


Little Stone hopped down onto the ground and walked with a saunter towards a wide, oak table with ornate legs dashed with hand carved flowers winding their way up towards skulls at the base where the table met with the legs.

"The closest thing that I have is The Liar's Goblet" Little Stone said. He pushed aside a small pile of gems underneath the table, paws fishing for something. Then he pulled out a Goblet:

Shawn looked at the goblet carefully, not wanting to even touch it before he understood what the item did. “How does it work?”

Little Stone:

"Dont be afraid" Little Stone said. "I'll speak softly. It's not for the world's ears but for yours only. Let me see you. Dont you know that I'd only trade you what you wanted? Or as close to what you want as what I have to offer?"

"The Liar's Cup is something that works only when used in concert with a liquid and immediately before a lie is to be told. You must fill it with a liquid and then wait for the planned lie. Then you drink the whole of the Cup's contents. Once that is complete you tell the lie as you intended."

"It does not work all of the time. Some have said the hardest part is getting the liquid down and keeping it down. If you fill it with water, it may taste of bitterness. This is the lie that forms upon the drinker's mouth."

"Others say that the hardest part of using the Liar's Cup is speaking the lie. It is said that sometimes the user speaks something else entirely than was intended."

"But if it does work, then those who hear the lie are completely convinced."

Shawn took the cup and turned it over in his hand, getting a close look at it. "What happens if you drink it when you're going to tell the truth? Or you're making a promise you intend to keep?" Ironically, he hadn't been intending to lie - he just wanted the listener to have a reason to believe he was speaking in good faith.

"I do not know." Little Stone replied. "They call it a Liar's Cup because it is supposed to help liars. There's nothing that I've heard of that would indicate anything about telling the truth. I am not sure that anyone has ever done anything to figure that possibility out."

"The Liar's Cup come from Mr. Toad's Dining Room. Few know of him, for he is not of this realm. He is not from the Underworld."

Shawn nodded and tried not to show his concern. He'd have to use the Liar's Goblet carefully, if at all. Though even if it didn't help with Mr. Clayton, if Shawn got out of this intact, he could probably find a use for the cup. "All right, I understand." He glanced at the tent flap. "I should probably get moving. Is there anything else I should know before I try to find Bradford and Mr. Clayton?"

"The object you have, the Liar's Chalice, is very unpredictable." Little Stone answered. "Use it sparingly, if at all. It is alive, in its own way. It is imbued with a powerful lie, and therefore does not like to be definted."

"I wish you the best of luck with your endeavor with Bradford, whatever it is that you choose to do." Little Stone said.

"We will not see each other again, unless you come to deliver the mice, or if you find yourself at a crossroads in your life in the waking world. Or you are with someone who is in the same predicament."

Shawn tucked the goblet away, and unsure of the etiquette here, gave the cat a grateful bow. "If I'm in another situation like this, I hope I do see you. You've been really nice to me, and I appreciate it." Negotiations aside, he was telling the truth - the cat had been very nearly kind to him. With one last glance at Eddy, he headed out of the tent, trying to resolve himself for meeting Mr. Clayton and Bradford, and whatever decision he was supposed to make. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but that feeling made him more nervous, not less.

Little Stone simply nodded. Then he jumped onto the stool next to the piano where Shawn had found him."Persevere." Little Stone uttered. <Blue> Then he turned his back and focused on the short glass of whiskey, just as Shawn had found him.

OOC: Shawn Joins Thread

Shawn: Bradford's Resentment