World of the Inked Expanse: The Party

[00:00:09] Speaker A: In the laws of the universe lie stories untold, and through only their tellers do tales unfold. While tales of heroics and birth travel the expanse of our world, our focus shifts. Looking closely at the ground below, we see group of four heading onwards toward their destinies. Their papers, like many, are still waiting to be penned. However, each of their stories has already begun. Their first chapters have been started and finished. Their prologues have been composed. It's these opening scores that we have yet to see. So join me, if you will, to a time before when this group met. A time where the ink is still wet and the road is untraveled as images on parchment are scrawled and dance. Thus begins the world of the inked expanse. [00:01:03] Speaker B: Trudging along a rocky path. A woman stands at the front of the pack. She is the tallest in stature, but also in pride, carrying herself with ego and intellect. Her blue flame hair flickers and lights the space around her as if it, too, was coming up with new inventions. With tools and supplies easily at hand, she continues towards what she can only assume she is meant to be. This is Milo's story. [00:01:32] Speaker A: A well treated oak door swings wide to reveal the cool, lit interior of a vast home. A hallway of marble flooring and dusk gray walls frame the eye's vision as perspective shifts and focuses on a low table at the end of the hall with a small figure crouched beneath it. A child hides in this unconventional oasis, pulling out a toy carriage of beautifully carved wood. She takes the carriage softly, places it on the ground, watches it roll back and forth, and immediately picks it up, examining its mechanics from the undercarriage. Her eyes squint, her tongue slightly peeking out of her firmly pressed lips, and her face nears the toy in concentration. Strings of wild, flamed hair loosely fall from the once tightly bound braid atop her head as she rolls her eyes and flings herself to the ground in a huff. Clemence, the young girl calls down the hall. I need something small and pointy. Can you bring me dad's office stuff? She waits and listens until she hears the sound of shoes pacing on the marble floor. She wildly crawls from below the table and looks up to see a familiar figure of Clements, an older human woman with a kind face and salt and pepper hair donning a simple black uniform of robes. She puts down a dish she was drying and kneels down to meet Myla's gaze. Amelia, you and I both know how your father feels about you using his supplies for your experiments. The light in Myla's eyes dims and she looks down at her hands, rolling her thumbs over each other. But Clements continues, I have something special for you. She reaches under her apron into her side pocket, pulling out a simple wooden box with an iron clasp. I was waiting until your birthday next week, but now seems like a fine time to give this to you, she says, her smile creasing her eyes once again hopping up with joy, Myla takes the box in hands and opens it to a series of small watchmakers, tools perfectly sized to fit her adolescent hands. Her eyes widen, re lighting with inspiration and understanding. She hugs clements, squeals, and pulls away to start working on her toys'modifications, meticulously dissecting the pieces as to not ruin any of them. Myla lays each part out on the cold marble floor below her. Then, rubbishing through her dress pockets, she pulls out a smattering of odds and ends she had picked up throughout the week. You would be surprised how many loose gears, pulleys and screws an eight year old could find if you knew where to look. With her new tools in hand, she goes to work. If dad is concerned about luggage being out in the open on long journeys, she whispers to herself, then there has to be a way to utilize the space of a carriage to provide a hidden space for valuables to be kept. Her brow furrows and her hands still as she looks at what she has done so far. Staying like this for a minute, she shoots up in a wave of inspiration, bumping her head under the table. This is not the proper workshop, she mutters to herself, scrambling up from under the table, Myla turns the front of her skirt into a large pocket as she quickly gathers her deconstructed toy. She races through the doldy lit interior home, up a large wooden staircase and up to the second floor. Turning down corridor after corridor, she finally slides to a stop in front of an elegantly carved door. She normally wasn't allowed into Mama's embroidery room, but surely she would make an exception. Opening the door quietly, the room seemed empty, with a small bit of light peeking through the window. The coast was clear. Myla closes the door behind her and squeals with excitement at the thought of all of the materials at her disposal. Continuing with her predetermined plan, she sorts the pieces from her dress and continues. She begins breaking down embroidery hoops for extra wood and pulling string for an efficient pulley system. Needles are used to hold things in place where Mila's fingers were too big to reach, and she even found an extra bit of dye she could use for recoloring the carriage. After an hour of work and modifications, it was done. Jumping up with excitement, she raced down the maze of halls to her father's office, leaving her mess behind. Bounding into the room, she stops to see a rare sight, her mom and dad in the same room, having an intense conversation. Well, at least now she could show them both together. Striding forward with confidence and pride, she shows her new piece to both her parents, making sure to spend extra time explaining how the hidden storage compartment works. Both of them seem to nod, proud of what their daughter had done but not fully understanding what a spring clip is and how it relates to a latching mechanism. That's great, Amelia, her father says. Truly it is. But I must ask, where on earth did you get the materials for this? Mila's eyes look down at the table in front of her father. Before him lies an ornate watch, or rather what used to be one. The back had been removed and a lot of the inner mechanics had been taken out. She thinks back to the familial heirloom grandfather clock in the living room, which she had removed a spring from. Also her mom's embroidery room, where she had borrowed some of the other materials. Her mom and dad looked sad. Myla begins to explain herself. It wasn't for me, dad. It was for you. I heard you talking to uncle. You've been sneaking around again, Mama interrupted. Amelia, we have talked about this. You know I hate that name, Myla starts. It's so boring. Amelia, Amelia, Amelia. It makes me sound like an old lady, and I'm not. Her father's shoulders tense. Your name shows maturity and poise, traits which you are eventually going to have to learn. Your mother and I have been doing our best to understand you and your needs, but there are things we just don't understand. Like why you hyper fixate on things so intently. Or your irrational decisions to pick apart everything in the house. Poor Clements has been running around after you for years, trying to piece back together everything you've torn apart. He stops. Myla begins to cry. Taking a deep breath, he kneels down in front of Myla and puts a hand on her shoulder. Your mother and I love you so dearly, sweetheart. Truly. We just don't know how to keep up with you. I'm trying to, really I am. It's just. I don't know. Mama is silent but nodding in agreement. Mila hands her dad the carriage. I made this for you, that's all. And she runs off. [00:08:23] Speaker C: Starts with the spark of an idea, starts with the scrap in a pile with every screw and wire there's a new part to distract your tired mind I know there's something you're not saying and things go sideways all the time oh, a silence never suited you in life I know is anything but kind where's the joy of invention? The zest for creation? The joy and delation we've all come to know tell yourself to be patient I know you hate waiting but good things need time to grow starts with the letter of a name starts with a journey far away oh, who you are and who you were will be right by your side all the same all the choices in your past have made you stronger all the choices you make now are how you lead if everything goes sideways maybe sideways is how everything should be where's the joy of invention? The zest for creation? The joy and elation we've all come to know tell yourself to be patient I know you hate waiting but good things need time to grow where's the well met intention the scholars retention for new information we've all come to know give yourself time for resting through all of your questing because good things need time to grow. [00:10:17] Speaker B: Walking beside her, a man rivaling her in height steps heavily on the path before them. His armor glints in the sun. The only thing between the blinding light and the two behind him being a navy blue cloak with a symbol of stars. He reaches for his war pick, reassuring himself it's still there. It is in that moment he is reminded of why he is doing what he's doing and who he's doing it for. This is ID's story. [00:10:48] Speaker D: Report on assailant summarized the laboratory was compromised four days ago. The assailant, a knight of unknown origin has been captured and detained. Knight is resilient to interrogation. Continuing documentation going forward. Day six Knight still resilient to interrogation concern of magical capabilities keeping them sane, aware and healthy implementing magic dampeners ongoing. Day eight there is concern that the knight somehow got word out about our location. I do not believe this to be possible given the needed material components. We have sent out extra scouts as a precaution. But the extra scouts could give away our location as well. Day 14 the knight has revealed a location due to interrogation. A far off location in Asmerk of no note. Besides its obscurity, we have no further concern of other infiltrations. We have also begun an analysis of this night's magic. It seems to not fall under one category of magic and or be multicolored in nature. Further analysis is needed. Day 17 the knight's magic has been analyzed as purple. This must be due to some technique that the Knight is capable of combining red and blue magic. Knight knows something in our plans have changed as our interrogations has ceased. Magic analysis has halted magic dampening, leading to further concerns. Most scientists have no qualms, as their experimentation and development of further magic in artifice is more important. Day 21. The first prototypes of artificial purple magic have not been successful. I believe the cause to be the creation of the magic. Being instantaneous, the scientists should develop by holding red and blue magic in separate zones and allowing them to mix themselves when released. Day 24. My alternatives to prototypes has proved more successful. I hope to further develop this with mixing other colors. But we need more space to allow for accidents. We have already added more floors over the past weeks, but more space is needed. Conversions of some spaces have begun as well. Day 30. Experimentations have been inconclusive. Are red and blue the only possible mixes? Some claim that natural environments and causes are the only possible ways for full stability. I believe that anything can be forced. Day 38. Knight was in a better mood today. Situation developed to another individual approaching the laboratory. A woman searching for this night. Day 39. Without involving my own emotions, the woman has been revealed to be pregnant. In our analysis, she claims it to be the son of the knight we have in captivity, and she wishes him to be released. I am prepared to propose that we keep both individuals within our walls. The child may have the same magical capabilities as the father, and could be useful to further experiments. Day 143. The child was born. Both mother and knight have been released into the mountains, with certain memories left intact. Per our agreement, child will be experiment six, yet unnamed. Further development can be found in experiment six's file. End report on assailant. Summarized documentation by experiment monarchy. [00:15:16] Speaker C: Footprints on linoleum tile did you know what they had done? Steady gate as all the years had gone by where will you go when it's all over? How will you build yourself a house without a name? How will you heal from all your pain? Will you have someone who you'll trust with all your heart? Have you a heart left they could break? Is it an instinct or was it learned? Are your scars memories or things you earned? You keep your secrets safe inside but I find that when you hide, everything just gets much worse. Soldier marching off to war on his own. How long before they took your hand? How long before you see that you're not alone? How will you know when it's all over? Are you afraid of losing people you don't know. Are you afraid of loving first? You're a protector, but is there something else you want? Is love a blessing or a curse? Is it an instinct? Or was it learned? Are your scars memories or things you earned? You keep your secrets safe inside, but I find that when you hide, everything just gets much worse. Tiny footprints on linoleum tiles did you know what they had done? Steady gate as all the years had gone by. Where will you go when it's all over? How will you build yourself a house without a name? How will you heal from all your pain? Will you have someone who you'll trust with all your heart? Have you a heart left? They could break. [00:17:44] Speaker B: Just behind the man, a small, tafling girl trudges along. Her pace quickens as she struggles to keep up. Her stride tends to be much smaller. The puff of her sleeves flutters lightly in the wind of her stride. She fidgets with the small shadow lane on her hip, reminiscing on the bird charm dangling near it. Looking around, she sees the world for both what it is at base value and what secrets it could hold. This is Melwin's story. [00:18:14] Speaker E: Excerpt from Melwin's journal four days before the tavern Lenin goes off to school soon, so it'll just be me in the house with my dad's. He promised he'll come visit often, but they're all kinda bad at keeping promises. Not that they mean to, they just have other things on their mind. Lenin's so excited, I'm sure he'll be too busy with his studies to come visit, and Bran was the same way, so it's fine. I'm not sure how I feel about everything. I think I'm about to spend a lot of time alone because dads are too busy with their work. I understand their work's important, but I don't think I like being alone. Excerpt from Mellen's journal 4 hours before the tavern I think I like traveling. It's not often I get to leave Rayafel and go to kindia. The city is loud, but I end up spending most of the time in the artisan guild of the library, so I guess it's not all bad. Sometimes when I get overwhelmed, I get this fuzzy feeling in the back of my head, and it gets hard to breathe. Lenin said it's because my thoughts are too big, and he gave me this journal so all of those big thoughts could go down on paper instead of living in my head. The fuzzy feeling's been happening a lot more lately, though sometimes I wish it would all stop for a little bit. Excerpt from Moen's journal after the events of arc three, episode 13 I have three emotions now and the fuzzy feeling started happening again. [00:19:59] Speaker C: Close. You think I've been drifting far too long think I'll return and they're all gone everything I say, every breath I take there's a voice that's waiting for my every mistake and so I wake up in the morning to face the danger with a storm every day goes by and with every curse everything just gets a little bit worse and there's no fear or sorrow those were not an issue. Years and weeks and hours time has gone askew for me oh, the world keeps spinning the sun keeps rising the stars don't change even with the fight and through the end of it all or the end of me no, there's no point dwelling on uncertainty old puppet, been out of shape a heartbeat stuttering with constant aches lost and found and wandering again I'm just one person, I'm just one person and with the time I borrow I'm trying to understand you there's so much fear and sorrow and everything you do oh, the world keeps singing the sun keeps rising the stars don't change even with the fighting through the end of it all or the end of me no, there's no point selling on uncertainty. [00:22:01] Speaker B: Next to the small girl, we see a short, stocky woman. Her physique radiates strength, but her face tells a different story. Her wide grin showcases her sharp teeth, and her voidlike eyes glow with the excitement of exploration and new beginnings. She bops along to more of a beat than a path, the flap of her sandals composing the pace at which everyone else walks. She tugs at her pigtails a little, reminding herself to be present. This is Audent's story. [00:22:33] Speaker F: The water was getting a little too shallow to comfortably swim anymore. She knew she just needed to accept it and walk on her feet up the sandy beach. But it always took a moment to adjust to breathing with her lungs, and based on the dimming sky above, the air was going to be cooler and that made it even more uncomfortable and would give her a pinchy sort of feeling in her throat, and that wasn't very good. So in all honesty, it was probably better to just wait in the water for a little longer. She always forgot how bright it could be this close to the surface, so much daylight rippling through the water. Even with the lowering sun overhead, the Triton let her bag sink to the shallow floor. It was feeling heavy, full of stones and shells that Nador had recommended she bring. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the waves, the eb and flow of the water moving and swishing around her, her knees and hands brushing against the occasional smooth stone. And also a sea star plastered to the top of one. She was so far from home the familiar sounds of Triton had disappeared a while ago. She'd been swimming for hours, coming out of the depths slowly, the way that Nador had warned her to no more warning clicks of a patrol pod calling out about the giant squid approaching the colony. No more squeals and young Triton getting ready for a game of rock drop. The familiar noise of her school had faded. The ocean was really big, she realized, and being away from home made it feel empty. A different empty than she was used to. She opened her eyes and allowed them to adjust to the brightness. The sea star was orange. It hadn't moved. How is it up there? Have you been recently? Unsurprisingly, the sea star didn't have much to say. She gave it another moment, just in case it was shy. It didn't seem to be no more so than the average sea star. At least. Well, she shrugged. I suppose there's no time like the present. So. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, reached down for her bag, flushing the water out of her mouth, and stood up, popping her head and chest out of the water. Her lungs stung as she took her first deep breath of air. She had done it before. She didn't like it, though. Ahead along the beach were a handful of humanoids, people from the dry land, all standing and walking upright. They didn't look anything like Triton. Longer hair, a variety of ear shapes, all rounded well, no, some pointed, but not like the finlike ears she had. Some were tall, others were small. Children, perhaps. The hair on the face was confusing. Some had pale, speckled skin and others had deeper tones. A range of browns, tans, pinks, even some other colors from people with horns. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, just stared for a moment, looking at the sight before her. It was strange. They didn't seem to be moving in any kind of formation as they passed the buildings beyond the beach. What if something large came looking for a meal? Would they scatter or band together in a school? Someone waited past her, a tall man with tattoos along his arm. He pulled a line of nets and crab traps behind him. Excuse me. The words felt foreign in her mouth, without a buffer of seawater to cushion them. Where is this? The man turned, as if just noticing her poking out of the water. His brow furrowed. You seem a long way from Votara. Oh, I know Votara. I'm not from there. I'm from Seya. But that's closeish. And they have Triton there, too. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, sloshed through the water, following in the man's wake toward the shore. Seiya? The man chuckled. Nobody's from Seiya. Oh, well, maybe not until now, anyway. Where is this pong coast and trailer? Trailer? That name didn't really sound familiar. Is that on the top or the bottom? It's south on the map, if that's what you're wondering. The fisherman adjusted his nets over his shoulder. What do you mean, you're from Seya? I lived there and I don't anymore. She shrugged. Is there a current? Pardon? Road that goes to the top. I was told it was nice there. There are a lot of roads that lead north, but how did excellent. Thank you very much for your help. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, did just that as she splashed up toward the sandier beach, leaving the fishermen confused in the tide. What sand changed to damp sand, which changed to dry sand, a feeling so foreign to the Triton before she could get used to it, she found herself walking along a cobbled street. The buildings lining this small street were beginning to light up like the jellies in the deep, small signs lighting up in the dimming light. A delightful scent came from one of the buildings in particular, called seafood. She caught a glimpse of people sitting in groups through a small, clear wall in the larger wooden wall. Some had platters in front of them with what she assumed to be food. Why they went the extra step of putting it somewhere else, she couldn't figure, but the salty scent was almost too much to bear. Her stomach gurgled. She almost walked straight in when she remembered what Nador had told her. Before she could go into any buildings, she needed coin. They had told her how to get it. Her bag of shell and stone could be exchanged if she went to the right place. Somehow she didn't think seafood would be one of those places. She wandered down the road, milling between the dry landers. She passed another building, and though the characters on the signs seemed to be in common, she didn't know what it meant. It wasn't a word that Nador had taught her. Again. Through a small, clear wall, she could see into the building. Dismembered torsos lined the walls of the interior, and only after a moment the maker of waves, disruptor of waters, realized they were fake. They were wrapped in cloth and fabric in the style of the drylanders. She passed it by and approached another building. This one had small enough words on the door that she could figure it out. Odds and ends reseller market. That sounded sort of like what Nador had suggested. She pushed open the door and was instantly shocked at the spread inside. Shelves and displays of all sorts of things lined the walls of the building. There seemed to be more clothing, a bit more faded than the last store. Trinkets and metallic bits and bobs, small carvings and statues, pots with strange plants growing in them. This definitely seemed like the right place. She stood in the doorway, taking it all in, eyes darting between the different colors and shapes and things. You like what you see, deary? A voice piped up from the counter running along the side of the shop. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, turned to see someone standing behind the counter. Their face was round, and instead of a mouth they had a beak like on a parrot fish. Round, dark eyes peeked out from a feathery face. Oh, yes, there's so much. Are you looking for anything in particular? We've curated a pretty good display. I'm actually looking to exchange some things. I was told that there are some buildings where you can trade things for coin. That is true. We do buy goods from customers. What have you got? The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, hoisted her bag onto the counter. With a heavy funk, she began rummaging through and pulled out one of the large chunks of stone. If turned correctly, it caught the light right and reflected out. This has copper in it, unrefined, but I know that you modernists use copper in a lot of things. The birdlike individual behind the counter pulled a pair of lenses over their already large eyes, magnifying them even more. So there is. She pulled out the next thing. Another chunk of rock, and this one has nickel in it. We don't use it at all back home, so I don't know what it's worth, but I was told it might be able to be exchanged. The bird examined the second stone. There are definitely metal deposits in these stones. They nodded. The trouble is they aren't refined, as you mentioned. I'm afraid I can't do much for you here. You'd fetch a much better price elsewhere for these. The Triton's face fell. Maybe Nador had been wrong about what she should bring. I understand. It looks like you have something more, though, the bird prompted. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters reached into her bag and pulled out the final item in her bag she set it down on the counter, a long spiraling conch shell the length of her forearm, the inside a pearly white, other colors dancing in reflection as it moved through the light. The textured pale pinkish orange outer layer spiraled perfectly, little nodes poking up at regular intervals, giving it the look of a crown on the top. The shopkeeper reached their hands out hesitantly for it. May I? Of course. They got to inspecting it. We had a lot back home. Weird little mollusky things that would cling to the side of the buildings. They had really strong, like arm tentacle things, and they would kind of wriggle their way into any little crevice and crack they could, the soft part of them not very good for the stones, so we'd take them down and eat them. Didn't have much use for the shells, but I've heard they can be popular for decorations and such. This is one of the best kept shells I've seen in all my time. Here it is in pristine condition. How did you manage that if it was in the bag with those lumps of stone? The shopkeeper asked. The Triton shrugged. Not stacked and rot? I suppose you did. I can give you seven gold for the shell. And that's coin. Yes, that's coin. That'll get you food, clothes, whatever it is you need. The maker of waves, disruptor of waters, grinned widely. Excellent. Thank you so much. For bookkeeping purposes, I need to write down your name in our sales log. Oh, yes. My name is. She let out a series of clicks and squeals and furrowed her brow. Speaking her name in Triton was a lot more difficult out of water. The shopkeeper blinked at her. It's an interesting name. Is there a spelling of that in common? The Triton thought for a moment and shook her head. If there is, I don't know it. I think NATO called it phonetics. I don't know what Triton phonetics are like. If it were to be in common, though, it would translate to the maker of waves disruptor of waters. But it's not a very nice name. Also, I don't think it'll fit in your book. It's rather long. Well, is there something else you'd like to be called again? It's just for bookkeeping purposes. You have the chance to pick out a name for yourself, if you'd like. Or I can write very small, the bird person added. The maker of waves disruptor of waters thought for a moment. A fresh start with a new name in a new town was appealing. She imagined casting her old self behind, shedding the name she had and finding a better fit. Like a hermit crab changing its shell. She looked around the shop, eyes skimming the displays. Eventually, they settled on the front door of the shop. The name on the building ran through her mind. Odds and ends, odds and ends. She cleared her throat and turned back to the shopkeeper, a sharp smile on her face. You can put my name down as Odin. [00:34:35] Speaker C: Close all the lovely little things in the ocean where you been? Swimming sideways through a current we don't know slipping into the routine with all your constant fidgeting always got to stay in motion as you go it's time for actions as you flow from one movement to another here we go what state we're in will matter not when all we have is all we've got to go on use that strength of yours to fight doing what you think is right all the currents keep on changing oh, you're smarter and you're braver than you know and sometimes being still will only leave you on your own. Just as ashes turn to ashes and dust turns to dust, the currents of the ocean never settle, never stop. Were you hurt by all these things in the ocean where you've been treading water in a current we don't know up above? There's no routines in all these strange and new machines, unexplained and so confusing as you go. It's time for actions as you flow from one movement to another. Here we go what state we're in will matter not when all we have is all we've got to go on. [00:37:05] Speaker A: You in the laws of the universe lie stories untold, and through only their tellers do tales unfold. With paper and pen still in their hand, the authors have noted one final command. May this Tome never close and its ink never dry. May all tales be penned on each page. May truths lie. May the cosmos final score never be written. As beyond the star as mortals hear composition with our protagonist stories scrawled and danced, thus continues the world of the inked expanse. Hello everyone. Thank you so much for listening to world of the inked expanse. The party. We hope you had as much fun listening to it as we all had making it. This wodie is actually a special release in honor of our two year anniversary of the podcast. It is absolutely insane that we have already been doing this for two years, and I know I speak for everyone when I say that we can't wait to see what the next year has in store. We wanted to take this time to thank everyone involved in our project. Our amazing cast and crew, Anastasia, Ben, Bryce, Grace, Jay and Meg. And we also wanted to thank everyone who has done art for our main games, Maddie Saxon with their character art and credit Coon Studios with our cover art. If you want to stay up to date on all things spells and whistles, you can find us on social media at spells and whistles pod on Instagram and TikTok, and at spells underscore whistles on Twitter. If you want to join in some extra fun, make sure to check out our discord. And if you like our content and want to give us some extra support, you can check out our Patreon as well. With the lowest tier starting at just $1, all of the funding we receive goes immediately back into making our content even better. Thank you so much and we will catch you in the next episode. Bye.