Kot Bajun goes through the pile — old decks, stray docs, a PDF someone exported once that everyone's been copying from since — and comes back with one clean story: a proper markdown draft, then a Marp deck built straight from it. Not one more version. The version.
Point it at whatever you've got. It reads all of it — not just whichever file happens to be newest.
Distills the pile into one well-structured markdown story — the kind you'd actually want to read before you'd want to sit through slides.
Renders that same story into a deck with Marp. Change the story and the slides change with it — no more editing five copies by hand.
A clean markdown document — the story on its own, in full, the way you'd hand it to someone who actually wants to understand, not skim.
The same source, staged as a Marp deck — built for the room, not the reader. Nothing in it that isn't in the story.
In Russian fairy tales, Kot Bayun is an enormous cat who lives far off, past the ninth land. You hear him long before you'd ever see him — a low, steady voice, working through one tale after another. Get too close and that same voice puts you to sleep for good; but they also say it can nurse a sick man back to health. The only way to bring him home is to catch him wearing iron gloves, so his claws can't reach you while you listen.
Four names, one household. Kedr shows up in the room, Domovoi keeps what's true, Kot Bajun makes it worth sitting through — and Vasilisa guards the energy to do any of it.
