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."