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."