Start of a transcript of Cragne Manor An Anchorhead tribute by various authors Release 10 / Serial number 181208 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N) Identification number: //1A586AF4-661C-4879-ADFF-7DDE35836AF1// Interpreter version 1.3.5 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126 Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson Cragne Suite version 2 by Ryan Veeder (including Basic Screen Effects and Modified Exit by Emily Short, as well as modifications by Andrew Plotkin of Epistemology and Conversation Framework by Eric Eve) Plus modified versions of: Optimized Epistemology by Andrew Plotkin Conversation Framework by Eric Eve >l Pantry (Chris Conley) You are in a pantry lined with metal shelves stretching the entire length of both walls. Most of the metal shelves' contents lie deep in shadow, as the room is lit by only a single bare bulb hanging three feet above your head. The flat dark stones echo as you walk, and the air down here is cold and damp. The rest of the basement lies off to the west. A dark doorway beckons to the east. Pale roots of some unknown plant have broken through the ceiling in one corner, dangling halfway to the floor. You can also see a disgusting rotting pumpkin here. >* OK, east! You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >e Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) (First-time visitors should type ABOUT!) You have entered a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. The only exit is west. This might once have been a private altar room or chapel. Now it seems to have been repurposed as a ritual workroom. Oddly-angled runes are carved around the perimeter of the floor. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. A large disk, half black and half white, is mounted on the south wall. >* Oh man, the plotkin room You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* of course it has ABOUT That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* ritual workroom -- oh man is this alchemy? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* like Hadean alchemy? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >* this is true That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >about This room is a standalone puzzle. It does not require objects or clues from elsewhere in the game. Some special commands that work here: CONSULT CABINET ABOUT ITEM: Search the filing cabinet. LOOK UP ITEM, READ ABOUT ITEM: Shortcuts for the above. RECALL ITEM: Recall information about a specific item. RECALL: Show a list of all the information and magic you have learned. >recall You have learned no magic... yet. >* OMG That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. The only exit is west. This might once have been a private altar room or chapel. Now it seems to have been repurposed as a ritual workroom. Oddly-angled runes are carved around the perimeter of the floor. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. A large disk, half black and half white, is mounted on the south wall. >x brickword You can't see any such thing. >x brickwor You can't see any such thing. >x brickwork All the basement walls are built of these ancient, sooty bricks. They must date from the era of hand-made bricks, as no two are quite exactly the same shape. >x runes The runes are made of jagged, irregular marks. They make your eyes ache. >x floor You can't see any such thing. >read runes The runes are made of jagged, irregular marks. They make your eyes ache. >g The runes are made of jagged, irregular marks. They make your eyes ache. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. What's this? When you touch the frame, something comes loose from behind it and flutters to the floor. It seems to be some kind of delivery note. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >x frame (the ominous-looking painting) The painting depicts a night scene: a headless man on a rearing black horse, holding a grinning jack-o-lantern under his arm. >x glass Which do you mean, the mirror, the jar of screws, the glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew) or the glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)? >mirror You can't see any such thing. >LOL That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x disk Upon closer examination, the circle is actually a sphere -- or a hemisphere, anyway, mounted high on one wall. The sphere itself is painted white, but an array of jointed black bands covers one side, leaving it half-and-half. A wooden ring is mounted at the bottom edge of the sphere. It looks movable; you could push or pull it. >x cabinet The cabinet is a genuine brass-bound mahogany antique. It must once have graced the office of some elegant insurance company. Now it is stained with damp and decay. Drawers sprawl open, spilling journals and papers in disorderly array. >open it You'll have to search for something specific in this mess. >look up cragne The cabinet contains occult research, you slowly realize. The notes of your ancestors, untold generations' worth, collected by the heroic effort of whoever set up this place. The latest dates you can find are from the 1920s; the earliest are lost in unfamiliar languages and rotting ink. Sadly, the meticulous zeal of the collector was matched only by his (her?) blithering disregard for organization. (looking that up in the file cabinet) There are any number of Cragnes, Cranes, Krahnes, Crakhnes, and so on in the mess. You'll need to search for a more specific name. A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and proclaims, "The time is now two o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air. >* ...this room also thinks we're a Cragne by blood That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >look up peter The journals only date to the 1920s, so Peter is not mentioned. >look up me The journals only date to the 1920s, so you are not mentioned. >* I'm 4,000 years old, come on! You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >look up edwin You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up christabell You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >* see, a LARPer You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >look up konstantin You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >push ring (the lunar sphere) You push the ring to the left. The black bands which cover half the sphere extend, leaving the surface mostly black, with just one white edge. Aha! This must be a representation of the moon, now in the crescent phase. Very clever. >* I see That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >push ring (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >push ring (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull it You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >g You cannot pull the ring any farther. >* good ol' gibbous moon That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* gibbous and gibbet are cognate, FWIW You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >take note (the faded delivery note) You're carrying too many things already. >* oh c'mon That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >w Pantry (Chris Conley) You are in a pantry lined with metal shelves stretching the entire length of both walls. Most of the metal shelves' contents lie deep in shadow, as the room is lit by only a single bare bulb hanging three feet above your head. The flat dark stones echo as you walk, and the air down here is cold and damp. The rest of the basement lies off to the west. A dark doorway beckons to the east. Pale roots of some unknown plant have broken through the ceiling in one corner, dangling halfway to the floor. You can also see a disgusting rotting pumpkin here. >w Basement (Ivan Roth) It's dark and chilly down here. A damp, mildewy carpet of dimly visible design covers half the floor. It must have been luxuriously soft before it started rotting. A rickety staircase leads back up towards the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. A flimsy plywood door leads north, but you know what lies in that direction. The dimly-lit basement extends in every other direction, south, east and west. A metal hatch opens into darkness below. >drop all piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. limp pumpkin stem: Dropped. charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. jar of screws: Dropped. jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. splintery wooden key: Dropped. mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. ominous-looking painting: Dropped. Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the clock with a thud. It now reads 6:22. small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. teapot (smelling faintly of mildew): Fortunately, the valuable antique lands without incident. waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. white key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. key from an urn: Dropped. mildewed leather gloves: Dropped. a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. black business card (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped. > take coffee You already have that. >i You are carrying: the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew) the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew) a book list (smelling faintly of mildew) a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew) a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew) a library card (smelling faintly of mildew) Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew) a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew) a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew) a Jansport backpack (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) a hidden pocket (open but empty) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open but empty) a side pocket (open but empty) a trash pocket (closed) a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew) a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed) a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew) a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew) a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew) a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew) Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew) the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew) a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew) a label (smelling faintly of mildew) a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew) a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew) a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew) a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew) a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew) a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew) a calfskin coat (being worn) a trolley pass (being worn) a gold jacket (being worn) Ed's coveralls (being worn) a pair of leather boots >e Pantry (Chris Conley) You are in a pantry lined with metal shelves stretching the entire length of both walls. Most of the metal shelves' contents lie deep in shadow, as the room is lit by only a single bare bulb hanging three feet above your head. The flat dark stones echo as you walk, and the air down here is cold and damp. The rest of the basement lies off to the west. A dark doorway beckons to the east. Pale roots of some unknown plant have broken through the ceiling in one corner, dangling halfway to the floor. You can also see a disgusting rotting pumpkin here. >e Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. The only exit is west. This might once have been a private altar room or chapel. Now it seems to have been repurposed as a ritual workroom. Oddly-angled runes are carved around the perimeter of the floor. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. You can also see a faded delivery note here. >take note (the faded delivery note) Taken. >read it "Delivery: for Anax Cragne -- one mirror, iron frame -- shipped from St Croix via Boston -- May of 1919." Then in smaller letters on the back: "The item has been delivered as it was deposited. The condition of the glass is none of our doing. Warranted by the hand of: Ladoro Feraud." >look up st croix You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up boston You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up backwater You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up ladoro You scavenge through the disorderly pile, and are rewarded with success! Ladoro Feraud was a student of the arcane arts whom Anax Cragne met in the South Seas. The one journal you find in his handwriting is terse, but mentions something about a Word of Enlightenment, which can be used in rituals to seek wisdom and discern truth. Anax's marginal notes spell out the word: KHION. You wrap your tongue around the harsh phonemes until you feel sure of them. >* yeah this is HAdean lands That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >look up knion You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up khion You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up anax You root through the mass of papers, and are rewarded with success! Anax Cragne seems to have been a late dabbler in magic. Many of the journals in the filing cabinet have his signature inside the flyleaf, or his crabbed annotations in the margin, or both. His great triumph, you gather, was the discovery of the ritual bound -- the runes which surround this room -- and the words of Sealing and Unsealing which empower them. By speaking the Sealing Word IA, you alter this space so that magic becomes a possibility, rather than a fanciful dream. Even more importantly, the Unsealing Word ZOK ends the ritual, banishing all otherwordly influences. IA and ZOK. You study the syllables -- Anax was a stickler for pronounciation -- and turn the words over on your tongue. Yes. You can say these. >* oh geez, it is Hadean Lands You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room, louder than you intended. A faint grey light flickers within the runes, starting at your feet and then running around the perimeter of the room. Color seems to leach from the air as the glow brightens. Silence replaces it, filling the room... waiting for you to continue. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. Something about the filing cabinet draws your attention. >x cabinet The cabinet is a genuine brass-bound mahogany antique. It must once have graced the office of some elegant insurance company. Now it is stained with damp and decay. Drawers sprawl open, spilling journals and papers in disorderly array. You have located two interesting items: Anax Cragne Ladoro Feraud Your eyes are drawn to the back of the cabinet. Is that a bit of paper poking out from behind one of the drawers? You can't reach it, but you can just make out the name "Francois Crane" on the paper's edge. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up francois You search through the mess of journals, and are rewarded! Francois Crane spent his life searching for the Gates of Slumber, which lead to the Dreamlands. "Seek the Temple of the Flame, and beneath a Blood Moon speak the Unnameable Name..." (Francois certainly did like capital letters.) He died in 1835 without ever reaching his goal. In his search, however, he uncovered the Word of Winter: IRNATH, which speaks of cold, clarity, precision, sterility, and focus. You memorize the word. It sits in your mind like an icy prism. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud and Francois Crane. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >speak irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an infinite starless depth. Somewhere in the distance, shadows might outline the shape of a face, peering back... or not? You cannot make it out clearly. >g The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an infinite starless depth. Somewhere in the distance, shadows might outline the shape of a face, peering back... or not? You cannot make it out clearly. >x face The doll has a ferocious scowl on its face and a pull-string in the middle of its back. It has the sort of head with two faces, one of which is hidden by its hair. Rotate the head and the other face will be forward. A faint smell of mildew emanates from it. >x frame The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an infinite starless depth. Somewhere in the distance, shadows might outline the shape of a face, peering back... or not? You cannot make it out clearly. >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an infinite starless depth. Far in the distance, a face forms... an epicene face, wrinkled and shriveled; but its dark eyes blaze with fierce gnosis. The eyes lock with yours. "You dare!" The words burn in your brain, although there is no whisper of sound. "I achieved this plane in order to study the secrets of cosmic order, not to be disturbed by blundering novices from..." (the eyes squint) "...Vermont!? No! I forbid you. Let your scrying glass be sealed, in the name of Gretel Aschar!" The face is whipped from your sight, leaving the glass clear and empty. >* "epicene" means androdynous; gnosis is knowledge. we're heavy into the greek, huh Zarf? You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >look up gretel You cannot concentrate on research when the world is wrapped in ritual silence. You'll have to end the ritual first. >speak zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up gretel You root through the mass of papers, and are rewarded! Gretel Aschar was a Viennese witch, or seeress, who lived in the late 1700s. She was skilled in dreaming projection, but aspired to penetrate the illusion of Dream into the deeper truth beneath. She vanished in 1795 -- whether due to death or success, no one knows. The next page in the journal has nothing to do with Gretel. It describes the Word of Invocation: ULNUR, which brings forth voices from outside the world. A footnote adds, "Combine with Morovor's Word of Summer?" But there is no indication of what that might be. You memorize the Word of Invocation, anyhow. >* I am enjoying this so, so much. Hadean Lands is probably my favorite puzzly IF You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter ULNUR, the Word of Invocation You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane and Gretel Aschar. You have come across one additional name, not yet researched: Morovor Krahne. >look up morovor You scavenge through the mess of journals, and are rewarded! Morovor Krahne (1752-1801) was a distant cousin of the family who studied astronomy. Or perhaps astrology, as his notes have nothing but contempt for the "modern" science of telescopes and Newton. He was obsessed with the relationship between the stars, the seasons, and the cycles of history. Ultimately he destroyed his health dragging menhirs around a Scottish moor, attempting to construct an astronomical stone circle which could predict, or invoke, the End of Days. Almost incidentally he perfected the modern forms of the Seasonal Names. Of the four, only one survives in this fragmentary journal: MALETH, the Word of Summer, which bespeaks heat, haze, fertility, verdancy, and riot. You memorize the word. It sits in your mind like a roiling thundercloud. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >* I think the seasonal Words are like influences, in HL terms? You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >speak maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >* yeah That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is warm and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >* We'll get our planetary influence-analogue via the sphere That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >speak ulnar (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >speak ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body, and the gaze of a green presence. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >smell An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >speak zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up margreth You root through the disorderly pile, and are rewarded! Margreth Cragne studied visionary meditation in this very basement in the late 1880s. She wrote of the art of scrying a spirit who does not want to be observed. "Bring forth an ice-covered mirror under the full moon. Speak the Word of Enlightenment; then polish the glass with your hand. Then wait until the moon is new and allow the ice to melt. Your will shall penetrate the glass and reveal that which you seek." >* nice That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >speak irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >polish mirror The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >speak maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Fog roils behind the mirror glass. It spreads, leaving the mirror clouded, as it was when you first arrived. >x mirror You peer into the mirror. Its clouding now appears vastly more intricate -- a fractal web of microfractures spread across the surface of the glass. Sadly, it is as opaque as ever. >* did we jump the gun? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >g You peer into the mirror. Its clouding now appears vastly more intricate -- a fractal web of microfractures spread across the surface of the glass. Sadly, it is as opaque as ever. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >speak zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely covered by the black bands, thus representing a new moon. >pull it You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >speak irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >polish mirror The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >g The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >g The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >g The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >zx That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x What do you want to examine? >x What do you want to examine? >x What do you want to examine? >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >zz That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >push it You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >speak irnath You try to say the Word of Winter, but its sound is already resonating in the air. You cannot speak it any louder. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne and Margreth Cragne. >speal ulnur That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >speak ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. If you look more closely at the spirit, you might learn more. >x spirit You cannot see the spirit, but you attempt to capture its focus with your gaze. You are struck by a hideous pain behind your eyes. It mutes, after a moment, to pressure and an icy chill. There is sentience in the focus, an awareness that nearly overwhelms you. Somewhere something is shrieking; the not-sound scrapes along the thin edge of reality. But you can make out its intent. A name: Kteh Nyare. >* OK, thre we go You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >speak zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up kteh You scavenge through the mass of papers, and are rewarded! Kteh Nyare was a scribe, or priest, or tutelary god -- stories disagree -- in the legendary Lost Dynasty of Egypt. The rulers in this period sojourned deep into forbidden arts, raising the Old Kingdom to unrivaled sovereignty. When they fell, their ruin was so terrible that their names and deeds have been entirely erased from history. It was Kteh Nyare who first committed arcane Names to papyrus for study. Modern occultists use newer alphabets, but Kteh Nyare's hieroglyphics were an exacting and precise system of writing. You study the description of the hieroglyphics. They clarify your understanding of the Words you have learned. By speaking with greater precision, you realize, you can amplify most of those Words -- repeating the Word to intensify its effect. >* oh hey, that's us! You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* and that gets us our ice-covered mirror That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull it You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >g You cannot pull the ring any farther. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say ilnath (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >speak irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >polish it You can't see 'it' (nothing) at the moment. >polish mirror The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >polish mirror You place your hand against the frosted glass. The cold burns through skin and nerve, but slowly, a pearly glow begins to shine through the ice. When you pull your hand away, the glow remains. >* ah, there we go You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot pull the ring any farther. >push it You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >speak maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The stabbing cold around you lessens. The frost sublimes from the surface of the mirror, leaving it clear as ice and filled with a pearly glow. >speak ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. With a startling crack, the mirror-glass splinters! A wave of agonizing cold rolls through the room. The fractured glass blazes with a pearly brilliance which strikes through your body. You try to pull away, but your muscles do not respond. You feel ice crystals growing in your flesh, and then you can feel nothing. *** You have shattered *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* oops! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x mirror You peer into the glass... You see a shifting field of geometry, all illuminated by pearly light. Within it, Gretel Aschar's decrepit face slowly comes back into focus. Her wrinkles twist into a scowl of utter disgust. "Fine. Fine. You seek the way to the Gates of Slumber? Find the writings of my student Ersebet. A fool, she was, but she knew more than a little of the ways of Dream." A glare of unutterable contempt. "And she knew, for a wonder, how to leave an old woman alone." The geometric light seems to turn inside out, and the face is once again gone from your sight. >* there we are That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >speak zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up ersbet You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up ersebet You root through the disorderly pile, and are rewarded! Ersebet Cranyi was, as the old woman said, a student in the Viennese cultic circle at the end of the 1700s. After the group schismed in 1795, Ersebet travelled to America and attempted to barter visionary secrets with the indigenous shamans of the New World. They, by all accounts, wanted nothing to do with her, and she spent her remaining days poring over fragmentary manuscripts in a Boston garret. Her one creditable discovery was the Trance Word, VULLE, which allows the ritualist to project his or her awareness into a visionary realm. This is not the true Dreamlands, but a space within the practitioner's own mind, shaped by the symbology of their perceptions. The visionary state is thus merely a foundation from which greater rituals may be enacted. >* Lotta Viennese folks That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >speak vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. >* OK wow That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x flowerbeds The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x hedge The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze. >speak ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. >x presence The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >g The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >speak ia You speak the Word of Sealing, but nothing happens. This entire garden exists within an active ritual. >speak melneth (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne and Ersebet Cranyi. >speak maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. The presence fades. Steam rises up from the flowerbeds, and the air fills with a hot, gasping haze. Within it, the topiary begins to shudder. The ground boils with life. *** You have been overgrown *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x presence The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >speak khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. The silent muttering becomes clearer. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >speak zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >look up malford You search through the mass of papers, and are rewarded! Malford "the Warlock" Cragne, the black sheep of the family. Sheep as in rather dim and basically harmless, despite his self-chosen monicker. Malford desperately desired to create the Word of Chaos, an arcane tool of ruin and decay. Unfortunately for him, his diagram lacked several important hieroglyphs. In trying to complete it, he journeyed unwisely into the Otherworlds. His body was found, mindless and mumbling, in 1850. You examine the Chaos diagram. It's a complex arrangement which defines a word in the system of old Kteh Nyare. However, three key glyphs are missing. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >* hmm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* maybe other words repeated in the dream-world will get us there? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. The silent voices multiply; they are an increasing pressure in your head. You feel presences crowd around you, tasting your thoughts, fluttering through the fibers of your spirit. Your body begins to slip away from you. *** You have been supplanted *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* fun! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The garden is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* doubleplus magic is dangerous That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing, but nothing happens. This entire garden exists within an active ritual. >say vulle Here within the dream, that word has no meaning. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. The presence fades. The chill turns into an icy blast of wind. Leaves shrivel and die around you. The air hurts your lungs, and there is no respite. *** You have frozen *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >liste That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >* OK not really That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >x iagram You can't see any such thing. >x diagram You can't see any such thing. >look up malford You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Malford "the Warlock" Cragne, the black sheep of the family. Sheep as in rather dim and basically harmless, despite his self-chosen monicker. Malford desperately desired to create the Word of Chaos, an arcane tool of ruin and decay. Unfortunately for him, his diagram lacked several important hieroglyphs. In trying to complete it, he journeyed unwisely into the Otherworlds. His body was found, mindless and mumbling, in 1850. You examine the Chaos diagram. It's a complex arrangement which defines a word in the system of old Kteh Nyare. However, three key glyphs are missing. >x chaos You can't see any such thing. >look up kteh You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Kteh Nyare was a scribe, or priest, or tutelary god -- stories disagree -- in the legendary Lost Dynasty of Egypt. The rulers in this period sojourned deep into forbidden arts, raising the Old Kingdom to unrivaled sovereignty. When they fell, their ruin was so terrible that their names and deeds have been entirely erased from history. It was Kteh Nyare who first committed arcane Names to papyrus for study. Modern occultists use newer alphabets, but Kteh Nyare's hieroglyphics were an exacting and precise system of writing. By speaking with greater precision, you realize, you can amplify most of the Words you have learned -- repeating the Word to intensify its effect. >x glyph You can't see any such thing. >* is a "glyph" a word? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >g You speak the Word of Sealing. The ritual bound flickers hectically for a moment, but nothing else happens. Apparently you can't start a ritual that has already begun. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >g You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >g You cannot force the Word of Enlightenment out any louder than it already is. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. And you understand what they are saying, every voice, every word. You laugh at the simplicity of the secret. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* Seems like we need those missing pieces of the diagram That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* can we look it up? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >look up chaos You cannot concentrate on research when the world is wrapped in ritual silence. You'll have to end the ritual first. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up chaos You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up chaos diagram You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up diagram You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up glyphs You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. >x opiarry You can't see any such thing. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >* maybe the glyphs are in the scenery? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The garden is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >g The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >say malford (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze. >e This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >u This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >d This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. The presence fades. Steam rises up from the flowerbeds, and the air fills with a hot, gasping haze. Within it, the topiary begins to shudder. The ground boils with life. *** You have been overgrown *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >dig garden That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. The air is filled with humid warmth. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. You sense you could understand it if you listened. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. >x presence The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The garden is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. The silent voices multiply; they are an increasing pressure in your head. You feel presences crowd around you, tasting your thoughts, fluttering through the fibers of your spirit. Your body begins to slip away from you. *** You have been supplanted *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing, but nothing happens. This entire garden exists within an active ritual. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. The air is filled with humid warmth. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. You sense you could understand it if you listened. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. >g You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. The presence fades. The chill turns into an icy blast of wind. Leaves shrivel and die around you. The air hurts your lungs, and there is no respite. *** You have frozen *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >* herm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >pull lunar You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >save vulle I only understood you as far as wanting to save. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A crescent moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >* aha! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. You sense you could understand it if you listened. A crescent moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x moon The crescent moon hangs in the sky. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. The air is filled with humid warmth. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. You sense you could understand it if you listened. A crescent moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x moon The crescent moon hangs in the sky. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >x presence The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. >g You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. The presence fades. The chill turns into an icy blast of wind. Leaves shrivel and die around you. The air hurts your lungs, and there is no respite. *** You have frozen *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a crescent moon shines through. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >knion That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The garden is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is a white crescent. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say zulle (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A half moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x moon The half moon hangs in the sky. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. The air is filled with humid warmth. A half moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a half moon shines through. >x haze The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a half moon shines through. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >say kioth (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. The silent muttering becomes clearer. You could understand it if you listened. >listne That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a half moon shines through. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a half moon shines through. >x moon The half moon hangs in the sky. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is half white and half black. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say zulle (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A gibbous moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x moon The gibbous moon hangs in the sky. >x hedge The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >take hedge Nothing here is exactly real. >fly That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say hion (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >x moon The gibbous moon hangs in the sky. >x maleth You can't see any such thing. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a gibbous moon shines through. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >x topiary The garden flourishes in its neatly-trimmed profusion. >x moo You can't see any such thing. >x moon The gibbous moon hangs in the sky. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is mostly white. >pull sphere You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A full moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x moon The full moon hangs in the sky. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >x sky The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a full moon shines through. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. You sense you could understand it if you listened. A full moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x moon The full moon hangs in the sky. >khion sky I only understood you as far as wanting to khion. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The garden is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say vulle Here within the dream, that word has no meaning. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >say io (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. Not with your ears, perhaps, but the whispers are there. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. They are not clear enough to make out. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. The whispers are clearer now. If you listen, you can understand them. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. You can make out syllables, fragments of names. But one name is repeated over and over: "Jennever, Jennever..." That much is clear. >* ah OK That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up jennever You dig through the disorganized heap, and are rewarded! There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >* aha, was sort of on the right track You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >say zok You pronounce the Word of Unsealing, but nothing special seems to happen. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH (doubled), ULNUR. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH (doubled), ULNUR. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The atmosphere crawls across your skin. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >x mirror You peer into the mirror. Its clouding now appears vastly more intricate -- a fractal web of microfractures spread across the surface of the glass. Sadly, it is as opaque as ever. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION (doubled), MALETH (doubled), ULNUR (doubled). >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The atmosphere crawls across your skin. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >* OK maybe we need to zoom into the dreamlands That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A full moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. Steam rises up from the flowerbeds, and the air fills with a hot, gasping haze. Within it, the topiary begins to shudder. The ground boils with life. *** You have been overgrown *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. The silent muttering becomes clearer. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. The presence fades. Steam rises up from the flowerbeds, and the air fills with a hot, gasping haze. Within it, the topiary begins to shudder. The ground boils with life. *** You have been overgrown *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* OK Double summer definitely bad here That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >look up jennever You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >look up anax You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Anax Cragne seems to have been a late dabbler in magic. Many of the journals in the filing cabinet have his signature inside the flyleaf, or his crabbed annotations in the margin, or both. His great triumph, you gather, was the discovery of the ritual bound -- the runes which surround this room -- and the words of Sealing and Unsealing which empower them. By speaking the Sealing Word IA, you alter this space so that magic becomes a possibility, rather than a fanciful dream. Even more importantly, the Unsealing Word ZOK ends the ritual, banishing all otherwordly influences. >look up ladoro You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Ladoro Feraud was a student of the arcane arts whom Anax Cragne met in the South Seas. The one journal you find in his handwriting is terse, but mentions something about a Word of Enlightenment, which can be used in rituals to seek wisdom and discern truth. Anax's marginal notes spell out the word: KHION. >look up francois You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Francois Crane spent his life searching for the Gates of Slumber, which lead to the Dreamlands. "Seek the Temple of the Flame, and beneath a Blood Moon speak the Unnameable Name..." (Francois certainly did like capital letters.) He died in 1835 without ever reaching his goal. In his search, however, he uncovered the Word of Winter: IRNATH, which speaks of cold, clarity, precision, sterility, and focus. >look up gretel You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Gretel Aschar was a Viennese witch, or seeress, who lived in the late 1700s. She was skilled in dreaming projection, but aspired to penetrate the illusion of Dream into the deeper truth beneath. She vanished in 1795 -- whether due to death or success, no one knows. The next page in the journal has nothing to do with Gretel. It describes the Word of Invocation: ULNUR, which brings forth voices from outside the world. A footnote adds, "Combine with Morovor's Word of Summer?" But there is no indication of what that might be. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say mareth (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH (doubled), ULNUR. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH (doubled), ULNUR (doubled). >say hello There's no one here but you. >* you sure? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say kioh (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The atmosphere crawls across your skin. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >x atmospher You can't see any such thing. >x atmosphere You can't see any such thing. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >* that doesn't appear to change anything... That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >look up morovor You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. Morovor Krahne (1752-1801) was a distant cousin of the family who studied astronomy. Or perhaps astrology, as his notes have nothing but contempt for the "modern" science of telescopes and Newton. He was obsessed with the relationship between the stars, the seasons, and the cycles of history. Ultimately he destroyed his health dragging menhirs around a Scottish moor, attempting to construct an astronomical stone circle which could predict, or invoke, the End of Days. Almost incidentally he perfected the modern forms of the Seasonal Names. Of the four, only one survives in this fragmentary journal: MALETH, the Word of Summer, which bespeaks heat, haze, fertility, verdancy, and riot. >look up jennever You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >* maybe let's just start with the intellect(e) one? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say kioh (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >x mirror You try to peer into the mirror, but it is entirely frosted over. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH (doubled), ULNUR. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say khion You cannot force the Word of Enlightenment out any louder than it already is. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely covered by the black bands, thus representing a new moon. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. Not with your ears, perhaps, but the whispers are there. And a few words are clear enough to understand, if you listen. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. You can make out syllables, fragments of names. But one name is repeated over and over: "Jennever, Jennever..." That much is clear. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. The whispers fade. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. >* ah, OK, we summon than change environment You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* feels like an inversion of how Hadean Lands tended to roll That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. The presence fades. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH, ULNUR. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. The presence fades. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION (doubled), IRNATH, ULNUR (doubled). >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. The presence fades. >* hmm why are the presences fading? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. >g You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH (doubled), ULNUR (doubled). >x spirit You can't see any such thing. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is icy cold and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, frosted-over mirror. The atmosphere prickles unpleasantly. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >x mirror You try to peer into the mirror, but it is entirely frosted over. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >recall margreth Margreth Cragne studied visionary meditation in this very basement in the late 1880s. She wrote of the art of scrying a spirit who does not want to be observed. "Bring forth an ice-covered mirror under the full moon. Speak the Word of Enlightenment; then polish the glass with your hand. Then wait until the moon is new and allow the ice to melt. Your will shall penetrate the glass and reveal that which you seek." >* this feels like a very specific summoning That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >recall ersebet Ersebet Cranyi was a student in the Viennese cultic circle at the end of the 1700s. After the group schismed in 1795, Ersebet travelled to America and attempted to barter visionary secrets with the indigenous shamans of the New World. They, by all accounts, wanted nothing to do with her, and she spent her remaining days poring over fragmentary manuscripts in a Boston garret. Her one creditable discovery was the Trance Word, VULLE, which allows the ritualist to project his or her awareness into a visionary realm. This is not the true Dreamlands, but a space within the practitioner's own mind, shaped by the symbology of their perceptions. The visionary state is thus merely a foundation from which greater rituals may be enacted. >recall malford Malford "the Warlock" Cragne, the black sheep of the family. Sheep as in rather dim and basically harmless, despite his self-chosen monicker. Malford desperately desired to create the Word of Chaos, an arcane tool of ruin and decay. Unfortunately for him, his diagram lacked several important hieroglyphs. In trying to complete it, he journeyed unwisely into the Otherworlds. His body was found, mindless and mumbling, in 1850. You recall the Chaos diagram. It's a complex arrangement which defines a word in the system of old Kteh Nyare. However, three key glyphs are missing. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say malet (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a bowl-shaped hollow beneath a towering mountain peak. The lower end is blocked by a wall of ice. The air is achingly cold. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. The chill turns into an icy blast of wind coming down from the mountaintop. Stones and chunks of ice are caught up in the gale. *** You are quickly overwhelmed *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* really not sure zooming off to the dreamlands is helpful here That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >look up jennever You pull the relevant paper back out of the heap. There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. Not with your ears, perhaps, but the whispers are there. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. The whispers fade. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. The presence fades. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* I was interpreting "high summer" as doubling the word, but guess that's wroth You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x presence You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH, ULNUR. >* OK is that the intellect? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. The presence fades. >* OK that's a good sigh That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. The air fills with the tense smell of lightning about to strike. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. The aroma fades. You sense an antic presence in the air, something fluttering and difficult to pin down. It dances around the room. It might be laughing at you. >x presence You cannot. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH, ULNUR. >say khioh (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. You perceive the spirit more clearly now. Its dance is joyful -- spontaneous -- irresistable. You follow it, spinning around the room in delight, spinning, spinning... *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot pull the ring any farther. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. The presence fades. The air fills with the tense smell of lightning about to strike. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. The aroma fades. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. The air fills with the tense smell of lightning about to strike. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH, ULNUR. >x presence You cannot. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. The aroma fades. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Fog roils behind the mirror glass. It spreads, leaving the mirror clouded, as it was when you first arrived. The aroma fades. The prickling sensation fades. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. Not with your ears, perhaps, but the whispers are there. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. They are not clear enough to make out. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. The whispers are clearer now. If you listen, you can understand them. >listne That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. You can make out syllables, fragments of names. But one name is repeated over and over: "Jennever, Jennever..." That much is clear. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >push mirror The mirror frame is fixed in place. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >say malet (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. The whispers fade. You feel something invisible crawling across your body, and the gaze of a green presence. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR (doubled). >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. The aroma fades. The presence fades. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >* OK we have a presence and an aroma That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body, and the gaze of a green presence. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >x green An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >* OK the presence is here That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >x green An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is warm and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. You sense a green presence, and a sweet aroma from the filing cabinet. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >x green presence An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >listen to green presence The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH, ULNUR. >say vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x spirit An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >smell An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >x orchid An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. The aroma fades. The presence fades. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. The aroma of flowers in a sunlit meadow spills over you. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >g You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION (doubled), MALETH, ULNUR. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x presence You cannot. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is warm and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. A thick aroma of flowers fills the room. The lunar sphere on the wall is half white and half black. >smell When you close your eyes, you can smell nothing but sun-warmed flowers. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. The aroma fades. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. The aroma of flowers in a sunlit meadow spills over you. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. The aroma fades. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. You feel the gaze of a green presence upon you. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >x presence An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, MALETH, ULNUR. >talk to presence You cannot. >ask presence about itself You can't see any such thing. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is warm and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. You sense a green presence, and a sweet aroma from the filing cabinet. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >look up jennever You cannot concentrate on research when the world is wrapped in ritual silence. You'll have to end the ritual first. >recall jennever There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is warm and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. You sense a green presence, and a sweet aroma from the filing cabinet. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >g You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION (doubled), MALETH, ULNUR (doubled). >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. The aroma fades. The presence fades. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. >* there's that other presence That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x gaze You can't see any such thing. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH, ULNUR. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass. You sense a chill presence gazing at you from a vast distance. Knowledge lies within it. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >* "knowledge lies within it" That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say kioh (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass. You sense a chill presence gazing at you from a vast distance. Knowledge lies within it. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >x presence You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >x presence You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >pull sphere You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. The presence fades. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. The air fills with the tense smell of lightning about to strike. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. The aroma fades. You sense an antic presence in the air. You watch as its fluttering movements become clear. Its dance is joyful -- spontaneous -- irresistable. You follow it, spinning around the room in delight, spinning, spinning... *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and one edge is covered by the black bands, thus showing a gibbous moon. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body, and the gaze of a green presence. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >x presence An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >x presence An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >x presence An intense orchid scent drifts from the filing cabinet. The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >x cabinet The cabinet is a genuine brass-bound mahogany antique. It must once have graced the office of some elegant insurance company. Now it is stained with damp and decay. Drawers sprawl open, spilling journals and papers in disorderly array. You have located ten interesting items: Anax Cragne Ladoro Feraud Francois Crane Gretel Aschar Morovor Krahne Jennever Cragne Kteh Nyare Margreth Cragne Ersebet Cranyi Malford Cragne The tiniest green shoot has crawled up the side of the cabinet. Its tip blooms into a minute, perfect orchid, which breathes its scent out into the room. The bloom curls over the edge of a journal which bears the name "Margreth Cragne". >* oh, wait You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >say zak (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. >x cabinet The cabinet is a genuine brass-bound mahogany antique. It must once have graced the office of some elegant insurance company. Now it is stained with damp and decay. Drawers sprawl open, spilling journals and papers in disorderly array. You have located ten interesting items: Anax Cragne Ladoro Feraud Francois Crane Gretel Aschar Morovor Krahne Jennever Cragne Kteh Nyare Margreth Cragne Ersebet Cranyi Malford Cragne >* hmm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH, ULNUR (doubled). >x presence You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass. You sense a chill presence gazing at you from a vast distance. Knowledge lies within it. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >open presence You cannot. >look at presennce You can't see any such thing. >look at presence You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >x coffee The swirls in your cup form a row of trees. Botanical images mean that while there is much left to accomplish in the present situation, your immediate environment sustains you, and you have everything that you need. A faint smell of mildew emanates from it. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass. You sense a chill presence gazing at you from a vast distance. Knowledge lies within it. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >polish mirror The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >recall jennever There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >* So we've summoned the spirit That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >recall malford Malford "the Warlock" Cragne, the black sheep of the family. Sheep as in rather dim and basically harmless, despite his self-chosen monicker. Malford desperately desired to create the Word of Chaos, an arcane tool of ruin and decay. Unfortunately for him, his diagram lacked several important hieroglyphs. In trying to complete it, he journeyed unwisely into the Otherworlds. His body was found, mindless and mumbling, in 1850. You recall the Chaos diagram. It's a complex arrangement which defines a word in the system of old Kteh Nyare. However, three key glyphs are missing. >recall ersevet That noun did not make sense in this context. >recal ersebet That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >recall ersebet Ersebet Cranyi was a student in the Viennese cultic circle at the end of the 1700s. After the group schismed in 1795, Ersebet travelled to America and attempted to barter visionary secrets with the indigenous shamans of the New World. They, by all accounts, wanted nothing to do with her, and she spent her remaining days poring over fragmentary manuscripts in a Boston garret. Her one creditable discovery was the Trance Word, VULLE, which allows the ritualist to project his or her awareness into a visionary realm. This is not the true Dreamlands, but a space within the practitioner's own mind, shaped by the symbology of their perceptions. The visionary state is thus merely a foundation from which greater rituals may be enacted. >zom That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >zulle That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. Above is a haze-swirled night sky. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. >x presence The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, IRNATH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles with vague, idiot persistence. You cannot make it out. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. The silent muttering becomes clearer. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, IRNATH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You cannot pull the ring any farther. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A full moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. The silent muttering becomes clearer. You could understand it if you listened. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >* same presence That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >zo That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >* seems like heading off to dreamlands isn't useful That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* are we missing something about how to get knowledge from the spirits? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >reacll That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi and Malford Cragne. >recall morovor Morovor Krahne (1752-1801) was a distant cousin of the family who studied astronomy. Or perhaps astrology, as his notes have nothing but contempt for the "modern" science of telescopes and Newton. He was obsessed with the relationship between the stars, the seasons, and the cycles of history. Ultimately he destroyed his health dragging menhirs around a Scottish moor, attempting to construct an astronomical stone circle which could predict, or invoke, the End of Days. Almost incidentally he perfected the modern forms of the Seasonal Names. Of the four, only one survives in this fragmentary journal: MALETH, the Word of Summer, which bespeaks heat, haze, fertility, verdancy, and riot. >recall jennever There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >recall kteh Kteh Nyare was a scribe, or priest, or tutelary god -- stories disagree -- in the legendary Lost Dynasty of Egypt. The rulers in this period sojourned deep into forbidden arts, raising the Old Kingdom to unrivaled sovereignty. When they fell, their ruin was so terrible that their names and deeds have been entirely erased from history. It was Kteh Nyare who first committed arcane Names to papyrus for study. Modern occultists use newer alphabets, but Kteh Nyare's hieroglyphics were an exacting and precise system of writing. By speaking with greater precision, you realize, you can amplify most of the Words you have learned -- repeating the Word to intensify its effect. >recall margreth Margreth Cragne studied visionary meditation in this very basement in the late 1880s. She wrote of the art of scrying a spirit who does not want to be observed. "Bring forth an ice-covered mirror under the full moon. Speak the Word of Enlightenment; then polish the glass with your hand. Then wait until the moon is new and allow the ice to melt. Your will shall penetrate the glass and reveal that which you seek." >* hmm, do we need to do this? like summon the spirit You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* then do this scrying That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >say maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >say ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body, and the gaze of a green presence. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >* OK so now we have the spirit That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. The aroma fades. The crawling sensation fades. The presence fades. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. Not with your ears, perhaps, but the whispers are there. >* blarg That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >listne That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. They are not clear enough to make out. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. The whispers are clearer now. If you listen, you can understand them. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. You can make out syllables, fragments of names. But one name is repeated over and over: "Jennever, Jennever..." That much is clear. >say zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >kioth That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A full moon hangs in the clear starry sky. You suddenly perceive a pattern in the foliage. >* aha! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >undo Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A full moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >* so we do need to vulle That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x walll You can't see any such thing. >x wall You stand at the foot of a ruined stone wall, perhaps the remains of some lost jungle ziggurat. >say khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. You suddenly perceive a pattern in the foliage. >x pattern Moldering tree trunks rise all around you. The vines form a pattern, and the pattern forms a name: "Shireen Vega was here." Okay. >soz That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. >look up shireen You search through the mass of papers, and are rewarded! The only trace left by this Shireen Vega is an aspect chart, drawn up in careful ink like a homework assignment. The two notable lines are "Summer trance, gibbous moon, invocation&enlightenment" and "Winter trance, crescent moon, redoubled invocation". >* got it That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* we need another word to get at the spirits maybe That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >malth That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A gibbous moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. >zhion That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. With imperceptible slowness, a glyph draws itself across the face of the moon. >x glyph Shadows and scars form a glyph across the surface of the gibbous moon. You memorize the glyph; it looks like one of the missing symbols from Malford Cragne's journal. >*progress! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is mostly white. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a bowl-shaped hollow beneath a towering mountain peak. The lower end is blocked by a wall of ice. The air is chill but you are sheltered from the wind. A gibbous moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >* aha That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. You suddenly perceive a pattern in the depths of the ice. >x ice The end of the valley runs up against a barrier of striated white ice, no doubt the edge of a mountain glacier. The crystalline structure of the ice forms a pattern, and the pattern forms a name: "Shireen Vega was here." Okay. >x pattern The end of the valley runs up against a barrier of striated white ice, no doubt the edge of a mountain glacier. The crystalline structure of the ice forms a pattern, and the pattern forms a name: "Shireen Vega was here." Okay. >* ah, always the same You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is mostly white. >push mon You can't see any such thing. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a bowl-shaped hollow beneath a towering mountain peak. The lower end is blocked by a wall of ice. The air is chill but you are sheltered from the wind. A crescent moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. >g You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. A new constellation burns among the stars. >x constellation The stars are veiled by a high shredding haze, but a crescent moon shines through. A constellation of unusually bright stars forms a glyph above the moon. You memorize the glyph. You now know two glyphs. >x ice The end of the valley runs up against a barrier of striated white ice, no doubt the edge of a mountain glacier. >* hmm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Meltwater trickles from the glacier. You notice the edge of a stone slab poking through the ice! After several moments, most of the slab is free. >x slab The slab has a hieroglyph engraved on it. You memorize the glyph. You now know all three of the missing glyphs from Malford Cragne's journal. >* yay! That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >recall malford Malford "the Warlock" Cragne, the black sheep of the family. Sheep as in rather dim and basically harmless, despite his self-chosen monicker. Malford desperately desired to create the Word of Chaos, an arcane tool of ruin and decay. Unfortunately for him, his diagram lacked several important hieroglyphs. In trying to complete it, he journeyed unwisely into the Otherworlds. His body was found, mindless and mumbling, in 1850. You recall the Chaos diagram. It's a complex arrangement which defines a word in the system of old Kteh Nyare. However, three key glyphs are missing. You have discovered all three of them. With the three missing glyphs, you are able to piece together the pronounciation of the Word of Chaos: OGGOTH. >* hmm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The mountain trembles violently. Splinters of ice fall from the glacier, but nothing worse occurs -- this time. >g You chant the Word of Chaos. The mountain jolts, roars, and begins to collapse. You are carried away in a tide of stone. *** You are lost *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >vulle Here within the dream, that word has no meaning. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is a white crescent. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The walls tremble. A brick cracks off the wall beneath the lunar sphere! Peering closer, you realize it was a false front. A small niche is now revealed, in which is a brass knob. >x knbo You can't see any such thing. >x knob A brass knob is now visible in a niche below the lunar sphere. >take it That's hardly portable. >turn knob You hear a clunk. The black bands retract. At the same time, the white sphere itself begins to rotate in the wall. As the previously-hidden face comes into view, you see that it is painted red. When the sphere comes to a halt, a full, bloody disc looms above you. >* oh geez That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >turn knob With a clank, the lunar sphere rotates back to its white side. >turn knob You hear a clunk, and the white sphere begins to rotate in the wall. When the sphere comes to a halt, a full, bloody disc looms above you. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega and Malford Cragne. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. The ritual bound flickers hectically for a moment, but nothing else happens. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The room shakes violently. Bricks begin to crash down from above. Oh dear. *** You have been crushed *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You stand in the ruins of a long-dead garden. Dry branches rise from the dust and tangle in twisted, unrecognizable shapes. To the south is the shore of a dark, silent lake. The waters do not reflect the reddened moonlight. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The decaying earth collapses beneath your feet, pitching you into the abyss. *** You are lost *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >s You set one foot in the water -- and it plunges into an unfathomed depth, far deeper than the lake should be just a few inches off-shore. You stumble back, feeling as if you had just avoided a swallowing abyss. >l Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You stand in the ruins of a long-dead garden. Dry branches rise from the dust and tangle in twisted, unrecognizable shapes. To the south is the shore of a dark, silent lake. The waters do not reflect the reddened moonlight. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The water at your feet goes slow and slushy. Ice crackles along the shoreline, and then spreads out across the surface of the lake. After a time, the entire lake is frozen hard. >s You set off across the ice. Frozen Lake (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on the surface of the frozen lake. The ice is rippled and rough underfoot, and hard as iron. The shoreline is back to the north. To the south, a small island projects above the ice sheet. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >s Island (Andrew Plotkin) This is a small island, only a few yards across, near the center of a frozen lake. The black ice seems to devour the reddened moonlight all around. You can see the dead garden far off on the northern shore. To the east, a stairway of rough basalt leads down into the ice. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >e The stairway disappears down into the iron-hard ice. >d The stairway disappears down into the iron-hard ice. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. A crack lances across the surface of the lake. The ice sheet grinds against itself and shatters, leaving water bubbling in the gaps. The remaining floes shrink; soon they are entirely gone. >e The stairway disappears down into the dark water. The thought of immersing yourself is abhorrent. >d The stairway disappears down into the dark water. The thought of immersing yourself is abhorrent. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. The lake steams gently, and begins to sink around the island. Stones crackle and dry as they are exposed. After a time, the water is gone, and the lake basin is bare and arid. >e The stairway spirals around the island as it descends. Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on a crumbling stone dais at the bottom of the dry lake. Jagged runes are engraved around the circle's perimeter. The island-peak rises to the west; basalt stairs zig-zag up its face. Far above, a bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. A scrap of leather is lying at the foot of the stairs. >x dais The runes are made of familiar jagged marks. This is a ritual bound -- although you would lay no odds what hands carved them. If hands carved them. >* oh OK That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x runes The runes are made of familiar jagged marks. This is a ritual bound -- although you would lay no odds what hands carved them. >x leather This green leather once bound a journal, but it has been terribly damaged by the water... ice... heat... whatever conditions it experienced at the bottom of the lake. You can barely trace the name "Arne Cragnessum" within one fold of the cover. The pages within have long since disintegrated. >take it Taken. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >look up arne You dig through the mess of journals, and are rewarded! Arne Cragnessum's journal is a tidy volume bound in green leather, with his name inside the flyleaf. It describes his search for the Gates of Slumber and the Unpronounceable Name one must speak to reach them. The last entry talks of "...the Summerlands, in which the Unnameable King lies entombed in stone... No mortal may walk those fields and return; but the Summer Isles sometimes impinge on the Dream realm, when the aspects align, and a ritualist may search within his own mind for an echo." >* hrm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* we still haven't figured out how to get at those presences That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The earth trembles violently. A section of the stone wall collapses with a rumble! Behind it is revealed a rune-carved stone coffin -- a long-lost tomb. >x tomb The runes on the tomb form a word... or something like a word. The syllables grind and crack against each other as you try to assemble them in your mind. After an unmeasured time, you think you have hold of it. This must be the Unnameable Name that Francois Crane and Arne Cragnessum described. >* oh, that was easy You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x name You can't see any such thing. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The earth collapses beneath your feet, pitching you into the abyss. *** You are lost *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a bowl-shaped hollow beneath a towering mountain peak. The lower end is blocked by a wall of ice. The air is chill but you are sheltered from the wind. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The mountain trembles violently. Splinters of ice fall from the glacier, but nothing worse occurs -- this time. >g You chant the Word of Chaos. The mountain jolts, roars, and begins to collapse. You are carried away in a tide of stone. *** You are lost *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >save Ok. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >recall arne Arne Cragnessum's journal is a tidy volume bound in green leather, with his name inside the flyleaf. It describes his search for the Gates of Slumber and the Unpronounceable Name one must speak to reach them. The last entry talks of "...the Summerlands, in which the Unnameable King lies entombed in stone... No mortal may walk those fields and return; but the Summer Isles sometimes impinge on the Dream realm, when the aspects align, and a ritualist may search within his own mind for an echo." >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >say name You know the Unnameable Name, but you are unable to pronounce it. >write name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >turn knob With a clank, the lunar sphere rotates back to its white side. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >say irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The walls tremble. The prickling sensation fades. The presence fades. A presence shrieks through the room, howling a music of ruin and decay. Then another, and more, icy chaos spilling out of nowhere. Bricks and wood freeze and crumble; your bones splinter in your skin. *** You have succumbed to entropy *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x presence You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >recall margreth Margreth Cragne studied visionary meditation in this very basement in the late 1880s. She wrote of the art of scrying a spirit who does not want to be observed. "Bring forth an ice-covered mirror under the full moon. Speak the Word of Enlightenment; then polish the glass with your hand. Then wait until the moon is new and allow the ice to melt. Your will shall penetrate the glass and reveal that which you seek." >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >malth That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >push mirror The mirror frame is fixed in place. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >g (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >moon That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring and a brass knob. It's a full yard across, and entirely covered by the black bands, thus representing a new moon. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >maleth You cannot force the Word of Summer out any louder than it already is. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The overwhelming heat lessens. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >poish mirror That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >polish mirror You place your hand against the frosted glass. The cold burns through skin and nerve, but slowly, a sepia glow begins to shine through the ice. When you pull your hand away, the glow remains. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The stabbing cold around you lessens. The frost sublimes from the surface of the mirror, leaving it clear as ice and filled with a sepia glow. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Fog roils behind the mirror glass, quenching the sepia glow. The fog spreads, leaving the mirror clouded, as it was when you first arrived. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. With a startling crack, the mirror-glass splinters! A wave of agonizing cold rolls through the room. The fractured glass blazes with a sepia brilliance which strikes through your body. You try to pull away, but your muscles do not respond. You feel ice crystals growing in your flesh, and then you can feel nothing. *** You have shattered *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a bowl-shaped hollow beneath a towering mountain peak. The lower end is blocked by a wall of ice. The air is chill but you are sheltered from the wind. Above is the clear starry sky. You suddenly perceive a pattern in the depths of the ice. >x pattern The end of the valley runs up against a barrier of striated white ice, no doubt the edge of a mountain glacier. The crystalline structure of the ice forms a pattern, and the pattern forms a name: "Shireen Vega was here." Okay. >d This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Meltwater trickles from the glacier. You notice the edge of a stone slab poking through the ice! After several moments, most of the slab is free. >d This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >x slab The slab has a hieroglyph engraved on it. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. The warmth turns to an unnatural sirroco, hot and dry. You hear distant grinding noises as the mountain ice shifts. Then you hear a louder rumble above you, and see the approaching avalanche. *** You have been buried *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. The chill turns into an icy blast of wind coming down from the mountaintop. Stones and chunks of ice are caught up in the gale. *** You are quickly overwhelmed *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. A knob is visible underneath it. >* Not sure how I can reverse that ritual That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* Like the margreth one allowed me to scry the spirit of intellect, I guess You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* maybe do it again and see how it works? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull it You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >polish What do you want to polish? >mirror You can't see any such thing. >polish mirror You place your hand against the frosted glass. The cold burns through skin and nerve, but slowly, a pearly glow begins to shine through the ice. When you pull your hand away, the glow remains. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The stabbing cold around you lessens. The frost sublimes from the surface of the mirror, leaving it clear as ice and filled with a pearly glow. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Fog roils behind the mirror glass, quenching the pearly glow. The fog spreads, leaving the mirror clouded, as it was when you first arrived. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You hear whispers in the darkness around you. Not with your ears, perhaps, but the whispers are there. And a few words are clear enough to understand, if you listen. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR. Behind the silence, whispers lurk. You can make out syllables, fragments of names. But one name is repeated over and over: "Jennever, Jennever..." That much is clear. >x mirror You peer into the mirror. Its clouding now appears vastly more intricate -- a fractal web of microfractures spread across the surface of the glass. Sadly, it is as opaque as ever. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undio That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x mirror You peer into the mirror. Its clouding now appears vastly more intricate -- a fractal web of microfractures spread across the surface of the glass. Sadly, it is as opaque as ever. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >unid That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >x mirror You peer into the mirror. Its clouding now appears vastly more intricate -- a fractal web of microfractures spread across the surface of the glass. Sadly, it is as opaque as ever. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is chilly and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length mirror of icy-clear glass, from which emanates a pearly glow. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. A knob is visible underneath it. >x mirror You peer into the glass... You see a shifting field of geometry, all illuminated by pearly light, but otherwise empty. >x geometry You can't see any such thing. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. With a startling crack, the mirror-glass splinters! A wave of agonizing cold rolls through the room. The fractured glass blazes with a pearly brilliance which strikes through your body. You try to pull away, but your muscles do not respond. You feel ice crystals growing in your flesh, and then you can feel nothing. *** You have shattered *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Fog roils behind the mirror glass, quenching the pearly glow. The fog spreads, leaving the mirror clouded, as it was when you first arrived. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely black. A knob is visible underneath it. >recall margreth Margreth Cragne studied visionary meditation in this very basement in the late 1880s. She wrote of the art of scrying a spirit who does not want to be observed. "Bring forth an ice-covered mirror under the full moon. Speak the Word of Enlightenment; then polish the glass with your hand. Then wait until the moon is new and allow the ice to melt. Your will shall penetrate the glass and reveal that which you seek." >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring and a brass knob. It's a full yard across, and entirely covered by the black bands, thus representing a new moon. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >polish mirror The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring and a brass knob. It's a full yard across, and entirely covered by the black bands, thus representing a new moon. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You cannot pull the ring any farther. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >polish mirror The glass is so cold that it burns your skin. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. A painful prickling runs along your skin. You sense a chill presence in the air, something looking towards you from far away. Its attention is a faded intimation of those undiscovered realms that await the soul beyond this world. Even so, its gaze burns. >x spirit You are unable to recapture the gaze of Kteh Nyare, if that is the spirit's name. But you have learned all that you need. >x mirror The glass does not reflect you, or the room. You are peering into an empty starless depth. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >push moon (the lunar sphere) You cannot push the ring any farther. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >* No, OK, this doesn't work You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >* Those seasonal associations aren't getting us where we need to go That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing, but nothing in particular results. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >recall malford Malford "the Warlock" Cragne, the black sheep of the family. Sheep as in rather dim and basically harmless, despite his self-chosen monicker. Malford desperately desired to create the Word of Chaos, an arcane tool of ruin and decay. Unfortunately for him, his diagram lacked several important hieroglyphs. In trying to complete it, he journeyed unwisely into the Otherworlds. His body was found, mindless and mumbling, in 1850. You recall the Chaos diagram. It's a complex arrangement which defines a word in the system of old Kteh Nyare. However, three key glyphs are missing. You have discovered all three of them. With the three missing glyphs, you are able to piece together the pronounciation of the Word of Chaos: OGGOTH. >recall jennever There are only a few fragmentary notes about Jennever Cragne. She was a summoner of some repute, but "Summoned That from which one Cannot Turn Away," whatever that means. One torn chart shows combinations of moon and season conducive to summoning. High Summer and the full moon are noted for invoking nurturing spirits. "And the Oppositte, if one wishes a Spirit of Intellecte," it concludes airily. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. >x moon (the lunar sphere) The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring and a brass knob. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted white, thus representing a full moon. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The atmosphere crawls across your skin. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. A knob is visible underneath it. >x mirror The mirror is mounted in a rather crude frame of wrought iron. The glass is in poor condition, pitted and fogged. >turn knob You hear a clunk, and the white sphere begins to rotate in the wall. When the sphere comes to a halt, a full, bloody disc looms above you. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The atmosphere crawls across your skin. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >x atmosphere You can't see any such thing. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. Every brick is edged with infinite precision; every crack wants to show you its secrets. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The atmosphere crawls across your skin. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >push moon (the lunar sphere) With a clank, the lunar sphere rotates back to its white side. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. An intense aroma of the jungle fills the room, enfolding you in verdant scents of vegetation and decay. > I beg your pardon? >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. You sense invisible eyes upon you. Something is drawn to your disembodied awareness as you hurtle through non-space. Something is drawing closer... and it has teeth. *** You have been rent asunder *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH (doubled), ULNUR. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is hot and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The aroma of the jungle surrounds you, thick with growth and decay. The lunar sphere on the wall is half white and half black. A knob is visible underneath it. >smell When you close your eyes, you feel yourself in a sweating-hot jungle, surrounded by flowering vines and humid, decaying earth. >listen The room is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH (doubled), ULNUR. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air steams with heat. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A half moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. Steam rises up from the undergrowth, and the air fills with a hot, gasping haze. Within it, the roots and vines begin to shudder. The ground boils with life. *** You have been overgrown *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A half moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x wall You stand at the foot of a ruined stone wall, perhaps the remains of some lost jungle ziggurat. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The earth trembles violently. A section of the stone wall collapses with a rumble! Behind it is revealed a rune-carved stone coffin -- a long-lost tomb. >x tomb The runes on the tomb form a word... or something like a word: the Unnameable Name. >enter it Nothing here is exactly real. >speak name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >out The Unsealing Word should do it. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is half white and half black. A knob is visible underneath it. >turn knob You hear a clunk. The black bands retract. At the same time, the white sphere itself begins to rotate in the wall. When the sphere comes to a halt, a full, bloody disc looms above you. >iz That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. You suddenly perceive a pattern in the foliage. >x pattern Moldering tree trunks rise all around you. The vines form a pattern, and the pattern forms a name: "Shireen Vega was here." Okay. >vulle Here within the dream, that word has no meaning. >nam That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >l Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. There is a pattern in the leaves and vines. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >x moon It's a full moon, blood-red and hell-bent. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The jungle is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. >gg That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >g That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. >l Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. There is a pattern in the leaves and vines. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >listen The jungle is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, MALETH, ULNUR (doubled), VULLE. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >say nem (to yourself) Talking to yourself is likely to prove unrewarding. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >khion You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The world takes on a peculiar, hollow clarity. > I beg your pardon? >g You intone the Word of Enlightenment. The clarity of the world increases, amplifying to an acutely painful pitch. The garden is freighted with numinous meaning now. You gaze around in helpless wonder. Secrets rain down from the sky and well up out of the earth. You do not want to look away, ever. *** You have gone mad *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. You could understand it if you listened. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >listen The garden is eerily silent, but you can sense words resonating in the air nonetheless: IA, KHION, ULNUR, VULLE. Behind the silence, a presence mumbles a name with idiot persistence. "Malford," you make it out. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >say ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Glacial Cirque (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a bowl-shaped hollow beneath a towering mountain peak. The lower end is blocked by a wall of ice. The air is chill but you are sheltered from the wind. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >ay name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. Meltwater trickles from the glacier. You notice the edge of a stone slab poking through the ice! After several moments, most of the slab is free. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >push moon (the lunar sphere) With a clank, the lunar sphere rotates back to its white side. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend; the lunar sphere now shows a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You push the ring. The black bands extend, completely covering the lunar sphere; it now shows a new moon. >pull moon (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a crescent moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a half moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract, leaving the lunar sphere showing a gibbous moon. >g (the lunar sphere) You pull the ring. The black bands retract completely, leaving the lunar sphere showing a full moon. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) This is a circular chamber, walled in decaying brickwork. A boundary of grey-glowing runes runs around the perimeter of the room. The air is warm and peculiarly still, and the exit to the west seems clogged with darkness. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely white. A knob is visible underneath it. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The fogged mirror slowly turns as clear as ice. >g You chant the Word of Winter. The chill deepens to a numbing, aching wave of cold. A coarse layer of frost grows over the surface of the mirror, leaving it opaque. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >g You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >ulnar That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You feel something invisible crawling across your body, and the gaze of a green presence. It studies you, and everything around you, with dispassion; what to nurture, what to prune. A faint but piercing-sweet scent drifts past you. It seems to emanate from the direction of the filing cabinet. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. The ritual bound flickers hectically for a moment, but nothing else happens. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The runes flare with grey light and then fade. The sense of pressing silence fades with them, leaving the room feeling dim and mundane once again. >turn knob You hear a clunk, and the white sphere begins to rotate in the wall. When the sphere comes to a halt, a full, bloody disc looms above you. >vulle You chant the Word of Trance, but nothing special seems to happen. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The earth trembles violently. Hedges shake, and then settle uneasily. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The earth collapses beneath your feet, pitching you into the abyss. *** You are lost *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Jungle Ruin (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a mazy jungle of towering, vine-strung tree boles. The air is thick and humid. To one side rises a crumbling stone wall. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >e This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >s This place exists in your mind, so there's nowhere to go. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation. The silence around you takes on an attentive quality; something besides you is listening. You sense a muttering presence in the garden. >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >ulnur You incant the Word of Invocation again. The sense of listening becomes unbearably intense. The silent voices multiply; they are an increasing pressure in your head. You feel presences crowd around you, tasting your thoughts, fluttering through the fibers of your spirit. Your body begins to slip away from you. *** You have been supplanted *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A presence moves restlessly around the garden, muttering silently in your mind. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >und That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing, but nothing in particular results. >turn knob With a clank, the lunar sphere rotates back to its white side. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >turn knob You hear a clunk, and the white sphere begins to rotate in the wall. When the sphere comes to a halt, a full, bloody disc looms above you. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. The Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a tidily-trimmed garden, surrounded by topiary, flowerbeds, and orderly hedge. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >ia You speak the Word of Sealing. It echoes through the room. The grey light flickers to life within the boundary runes. Silence presses in, awaiting your next word. >oggoth You chant the Word of Chaos. The walls tremble. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance. The basement walls, without moving, become distant and remote. Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You stand in the ruins of a long-dead garden. The air simmers with a parched, breathless heat. Dry branches rise from the dust and tangle in twisted, unrecognizable shapes. To the south, the ground slopes down into the basin of a dry lake bed. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >vulle Here within the dream, that word has no meaning. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The warmth rises to a suffocating, stifling heat. The air is an oven. The dead hedges begin to smoke, and then burst into flame. *** You have burned *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)? > undo Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. As the world cools, moisture begins to glisten in the bottom of the lake bed. Water trickles, then rises; then, in a slow tide, the lake returns. Soon it laps the shoreline at your feet. >undo Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You stand in the ruins of a long-dead garden. The air simmers with a parched, breathless heat. Dry branches rise from the dust and tangle in twisted, unrecognizable shapes. To the south, the ground slopes down into the basin of a dry lake bed. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >s You begin descending into the lake bed, making your way around boulders. Lake Bed (Andrew Plotkin) The lake bed is broken with chasms and dry stony crags. It slopes up to the north, towards shore. To the south, an unclimbable ravine cuts across the basin. You can see the island rising on the other side, but you can go no farther in that direction. Far above, a bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >ss That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >s Beyond this point, the basin becomes impassable. You can only return to the north. >u You climb back up towards the shoreline. Ruined Garden (Andrew Plotkin) You stand in the ruins of a long-dead garden. The air simmers with a parched, breathless heat. Dry branches rise from the dust and tangle in twisted, unrecognizable shapes. To the south, the ground slopes down into the basin of a dry lake bed. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >irnath You chant the Word of Winter. The stifling heat fades from the air. As the world cools, moisture begins to glisten in the bottom of the lake bed. Water trickles, then rises; then, in a slow tide, the lake returns. Soon it laps the shoreline at your feet. >g You chant the Word of Winter. A chill comes into the atmosphere, like an icy breeze that does not stir the air. The water at your feet goes slow and slushy. Ice crackles along the shoreline, and then spreads out across the surface of the lake. After a time, the entire lake is frozen hard. >s You set off across the ice. Frozen Lake (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on the surface of the frozen lake. The ice is rippled and rough underfoot, and hard as iron. The shoreline is back to the north. To the south, a small island projects above the ice sheet. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >s Island (Andrew Plotkin) This is a small island, only a few yards across, near the center of a frozen lake. The black ice seems to devour the reddened moonlight all around. You can see the dead garden far off on the northern shore. To the east, a stairway of rough basalt leads down into the ice. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. The icy chill fades from the air. A crack lances across the surface of the lake. The ice sheet grinds against itself and shatters, leaving water bubbling in the gaps. The remaining floes shrink; soon they are entirely gone. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. But the syllables do not have the sound of magic. They turn flat and vanish with no effect on the world. >l Island (Andrew Plotkin) This is a small island, only a few yards across, near the center of a quiet lake. The dark water is undisturbed by so much as a ripple. You can see the dead garden far off on the northern shore. To the east, a stairway of rough basalt leads down into the water. A bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. >e The stairway disappears down into the dark water. The thought of immersing yourself is abhorrent. >maleth You chant the Word of Summer. A thick warmth creeps into the air around you. Sweat breaks on your skin. The lake steams gently, and begins to sink around the island. Stones crackle and dry as they are exposed. After a time, the water is gone, and the lake basin is bare and arid. >e The stairway spirals around the island as it descends. Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on a crumbling stone dais at the bottom of the dry lake. Jagged runes are engraved around the circle's perimeter. The island-peak rises to the west; basalt stairs zig-zag up its face. Far above, a bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. A scrap of leather is lying at the foot of the stairs. >x moon It's a full moon, blood-red and hell-bent. >say name You concentrate and bring forth the Unnameable Name. Even in this dream-state, it scores your gums; you taste blood. An erythraean light flares within the boundary runes; the world outside dims. The stillness of the air gains density and texture, aching in your ears. Once again, the world waits for you to speak. >* had to get a hint for that That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >l Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on a crumbling stone dais. A boundary of erythraean-glowing runes are engraved around the circle's perimeter. The air is entirely still, and the stairway to the west seems distant. Far above, a bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. A scrap of leather is lying at the foot of the stairs. >recall You have learned the following incantations: IA, the Word of Sealing ZOK, the Word of Unsealing KHION, the Word of Enlightenment IRNATH, the Word of Winter MALETH, the Word of Summer ULNUR, the Word of Invocation VULLE, the Word of Trance OGGOTH, the Word of Chaos ????????, the Unnameable Name ...along with the ability to repeat a word, intensifying its effect You have researched the following names: Anax Cragne, Ladoro Feraud, Francois Crane, Gretel Aschar, Morovor Krahne, Jennever Cragne, Kteh Nyare, Margreth Cragne, Ersebet Cranyi, Shireen Vega, Malford Cragne and Arne Cragnessum. >name That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >vulle You speak the Word of Trance a second time. The world begins to blur. Stairway (Andrew Plotkin) You are partway down a long, long staircase of white marble. You can return west or descend to the east. >* yeah, we need to get to the real dreamlands You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >e You descend dreamily for a while, turning the key over in your hand. Bottom of Stairs (Andrew Plotkin) You are at the bottom of a marble staircase, which ascends to the west. A glowing energy barrier stands to the east. It is closed and locked. >x barrier A tall portal of some alien metal stands to the east. It is closed and locked. >x lock You can't see any such thing. >open barrier It seems to be locked. >i You are carrying: an ornate silver key >* oh hey That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x key Cryptically inscribed and ornately engraved: the Silver Key to the Gates of Slumber. >* So far so Randolph Carter That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >unlock door with key You unlock the barrier. >open it You open the barrier. >e You pass through. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You have entered a circular chamber walled in neat brickwork. The door to the west is closed. The room is quite empty except for a majestic filing cabinet in one corner. The cabinet is closed. A library book is lying on the floor. You have no idea how this got down here. >x floor You can't see any such thing. >x book The Seven Gaunts -- a book of Aionist fairy tales, collected by Henry Galtmice. How adorable! The book is brand new. Stamped in the endpaper is the insignia of the Backwater Public Library: two back-to-back crescent moons joined by an eye looking down at an open book. >* geez That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* was that presence thing a red herring? OR were those the glyphs? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >take book Taken. >read it The book is The Seven Gaunts, edited by Henry Galtmice. You flip through and glance at the story of the sisters who knew a song that nobody else knew. >g You flip through and glance at the story of a dweller beneath the Earth who gets lost in the Sunlit World. >g You flip through and glance at the story of a dweller beneath the Earth who gets lost in the Sunlit World. >g You flip through and glance at the story of the night when everybody danced. >g You flip through and glance at the story of a dweller beneath the Earth who gets lost in the Sunlit World. >g You flip through and glance at the story of a dweller beneath the Earth who gets lost in the Sunlit World. >x coffee You can't see any such thing. >i You are carrying: The Seven Gaunts >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber walled in neat brickwork. The door to the west is closed. The room is quite empty except for a majestic filing cabinet in one corner. The cabinet is closed. >open door It seems to be locked. >x cabinet The cabinet is a genuine brass-bound mahogany treasure. It is closed. >open it You pull open one of the cabinet's drawers, then another. They're all empty. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. Your surroundings flare crimson, then fade to black. You awaken. Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on a crumbling stone dais at the bottom of the dry lake. Jagged runes are engraved around the circle's perimeter. The island-peak rises to the west; basalt stairs zig-zag up its face. Far above, a bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. A scrap of leather is lying at the foot of the stairs. >i You are carrying nothing. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >x book Which do you mean, the faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew), the soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), the moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew), the postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew), The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew) or the small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)? >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >undo Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) [Previous turn undone.] >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber walled in neat brickwork. The door to the west is closed. The room is quite empty except for a majestic filing cabinet in one corner. The cabinet is closed. >i You are carrying: The Seven Gaunts >w (first opening the door) It seems to be locked. >recall Your memory is vague. >open cabinet You pull open one of the cabinet's drawers, then another. They're all empty. >l Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber walled in neat brickwork. The door to the west is closed. The room is quite empty except for a majestic filing cabinet in one corner. The cabinet is open, but is also empty. >push cabinet It is fixed in place. >i You are carrying: The Seven Gaunts >x dooor You can't see any such thing. >recall Your memory is vague. >read gaunts You flip through and glance at the story of the sisters who knew a song that nobody else knew. >put book in cabinet You consider the empty cabinet, and then file the book neatly under G for Galtmice. An excellent start for your collection! >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. Your surroundings flare crimson, then fade to black. You awaken. Lakebed Temple (Andrew Plotkin) You stand on a crumbling stone dais at the bottom of the dry lake. Jagged runes are engraved around the circle's perimeter. The island-peak rises to the west; basalt stairs zig-zag up its face. Far above, a bloated crimson moon hangs in a haze-swirled night sky. A scrap of leather is lying at the foot of the stairs. >zok You speak the Word of Unsealing. The dream-world flares with grey light and fades. You awaken. Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >look up gaunts You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up gotmice You find nothing about that in the filing cabinet. >look up galtmice You search under the name Henry Galtmice, and find The Seven Gaunts, filed exactly where it ought to be! You lift the book from the drawer in triumph. >* whew That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >read it The sphere is mounted high on one wall, above a ring and a brass knob. It's a full yard across, and entirely painted red. You're not sure what that represents, but it makes you nervous. >take gaunts You already have that. >read it You flip through the book and glance at the story of the angel at the South Pole. >g You flip through the book and glance at the story of the angel at the South Pole. >g You flip through the book and glance at the story of the angel at the South Pole. >g You flip through the book and glance at the story of a dweller beneath the Earth who gets lost in the Sunlit World. >g You flip through the book and glance at the story of the night when everybody danced. >g You flip through the book and glance at the story of the night when everybody danced. >x coffee The clouds in your cup form -- weird, they've entirely dissipated. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person. A faint smell of mildew emanates from it. >* whew That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >w Pantry (Chris Conley) You are in a pantry lined with metal shelves stretching the entire length of both walls. Most of the metal shelves' contents lie deep in shadow, as the room is lit by only a single bare bulb hanging three feet above your head. The flat dark stones echo as you walk, and the air down here is cold and damp. The rest of the basement lies off to the west. A dark doorway beckons to the east. Pale roots of some unknown plant have broken through the ceiling in one corner, dangling halfway to the floor. You can also see a disgusting rotting pumpkin here. >w Basement (Ivan Roth) It's dark and chilly down here. A damp, mildewy carpet of dimly visible design covers half the floor. It must have been luxuriously soft before it started rotting. An old, rusted toolbox sits nearby. A rickety staircase leads back up towards the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. A flimsy plywood door leads north, but you know what lies in that direction. The dimly-lit basement extends in every other direction, south, east and west. A metal hatch opens into darkness below. You can see a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew), an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew), a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew), some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew), a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew), loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew), an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew), a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew), a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew), a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew), a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew), some mildewed leather gloves, a key from an urn, a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew), a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew), a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew), a white key (smelling faintly of mildew), red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew), red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew), Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew), A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew), Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew), a shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew), a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew), a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew), a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew), a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew), a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew), an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew), an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew), a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew), a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew), a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew), a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew), a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew), a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew), Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew), a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew), Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew), an ominous-looking painting, a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew), a splintery wooden key, a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (in which are an ornate bronze key, a sinister iron key, a frosty blue key, an intricately folded origami key and a silver and ivory key), a jar of screws (empty), a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew), a limp pumpkin stem and a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) here. >take all piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. black business card (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. mildewed leather gloves: Taken. key from an urn: Taken. bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew): You scoop the box out of its crumbling niche. A whiff of stale air hits you, and you recoil. Yet the box remains safely cradled to your chest. Something inside it thumps, as if to the rhythm of your heartbeat. You can see no further into the grave. The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. white key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. teapot (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. ominous-looking painting: Taken. mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. splintery wooden key: Taken. jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. jar of screws: Taken. rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew): You pick them up. limp pumpkin stem: You're carrying too many things already. ornate bronze key: You're carrying too many things already. sinister iron key: You're carrying too many things already. frosty blue key: You're carrying too many things already. intricately folded origami key: You're carrying too many things already. silver and ivory key: You're carrying too many things already. Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew): You're carrying too many things already. dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew): You're carrying too many things already. > l Basement (Ivan Roth) It's dark and chilly down here. A damp, mildewy carpet of dimly visible design covers half the floor. It must have been luxuriously soft before it started rotting. A rickety staircase leads back up towards the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. A flimsy plywood door leads north, but you know what lies in that direction. The dimly-lit basement extends in every other direction, south, east and west. A metal hatch opens into darkness below. You can see a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew), a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew) and a limp pumpkin stem here. >* oh man folks That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >i You are carrying: some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a jar of screws (open but empty) a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) an ornate bronze key a sinister iron key a frosty blue key an intricately folded origami key a silver and ivory key a splintery wooden key a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew) an ominous-looking painting Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew) a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew) Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew) a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew) a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew) a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew) a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew) a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew) a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew) an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew) an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew) a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew) an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew) a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew) a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew) an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew) De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew) a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew) a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew) a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew) Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew) A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew) Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew) a white key (smelling faintly of mildew) The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew) a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew) some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew) a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a key from an urn some mildewed leather gloves a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew) a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew) a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew) an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew) loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew) a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew) some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew) an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew) a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) The Seven Gaunts (smelling faintly of mildew) a faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew) the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew) the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew) a book list (smelling faintly of mildew) a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew) a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew) a library card (smelling faintly of mildew) Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew) a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew) a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew) a Jansport backpack (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) a hidden pocket (open but empty) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open but empty) a side pocket (open but empty) a trash pocket (closed) a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew) a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed) a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew) a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew) a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew) a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew) Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew) the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew) a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew) a label (smelling faintly of mildew) a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew) a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew) a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew) a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew) a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew) a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew) a calfskin coat (being worn) a trolley pass (being worn) a gold jacket (being worn) Ed's coveralls (being worn) a pair of leather boots >put all books in book pocket Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew): Done. >take all limp pumpkin stem: Taken. Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken. >save Ok. >i You are carrying: a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew) a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew) a limp pumpkin stem some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a jar of screws (open but empty) a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) an ornate bronze key a sinister iron key a frosty blue key an intricately folded origami key a silver and ivory key a splintery wooden key a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew) an ominous-looking painting Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew) a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew) a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew) a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew) a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew) a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew) a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew) a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew) an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew) a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew) an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew) a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew) a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew) an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew) De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew) a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew) a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew) a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew) Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew) A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew) Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew) a white key (smelling faintly of mildew) The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew) a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew) some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew) a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a key from an urn some mildewed leather gloves a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew) a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew) a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew) an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew) loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew) a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew) some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew) an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew) a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) The Seven Gaunts (smelling faintly of mildew) the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew) the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew) a book list (smelling faintly of mildew) a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew) a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew) a library card (smelling faintly of mildew) Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew) a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew) a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew) a Jansport backpack (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) a hidden pocket (open but empty) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew) a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew) the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) a faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew) an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew) Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew) a side pocket (open but empty) a trash pocket (closed) a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew) an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed) a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew) a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew) a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew) a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew) Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew) a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew) a label (smelling faintly of mildew) a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew) a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew) a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew) a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew) a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew) a calfskin coat (being worn) a trolley pass (being worn) a gold jacket (being worn) Ed's coveralls (being worn) a pair of leather boots >save Ok. >* Let's do one more room (I think I'll cut out most of the faffing about) That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >w Wine Cellar (Nathaniel Edwards) You feel cool air swirling around you as you stand in the manor's wine cellar. Stone floors, stone walls, and dim lighting keep the household's dwindling wine collection fresh and oaky. A large wooden wine rack covers one entire wall of the room, but with only a few bottles left on it. You can see a door to the west, but a large wine cask is standing right in front of it, blocking your way. Another exit leads east. You count five bottles of wine lingering on the wine rack. Each bottle has a different name, all either Italian or faux Italian: the Piccoli Uomini Blu, the Prurito Notturno, the Lettera Segreta, the Isole Perdute and the Testa D'Ancora. >undo Basement (Ivan Roth) [Previous turn undone.] >s Boiler Room (Eric W. Brown) The western side of this windowless brick room is dominated by a huge boiler connected to a confusing network of pipes that eventually delivers heat to the rest of the manor. Between the unpleasant humming, the smell of fuel oil, and the heat leaking out, the boiler is leaving you feeling a little lightheaded. As noticeable as it is, the boiler is hardly the only item of interest. Crammed around it are many devices, at least four of which are clearly bigger and heavier than you. Next to the open doorway leading north there is a keypunch of some kind. There's a support column in the middle of the room with a framed diagram of some sort on it, and lashed to the column there is something that looks like a wardrobe that someone decided to wrap in copper wire. To make it even odder, there is a little window near the top of its door. Next to it is a mechanism that is a little bit reminiscent of a truck engine, and behind it a machine contained in a casing made from wood. Beyond a heavy-duty table near the southwest corner there is a rough hole in the floor, and the surface of the table is dominated by some manner of control panel. There is a small steel shelf high on the wall way above the table, and a fluorescent work light above that. On the wall opposite the wardrobe there is a painting hanging from a chain. It looks like the room has hardly been disturbed in decades, and your presence has kicked up a sizable amount of dust. Although there are some cobwebs, you don't see any spiders. Maybe they got fed up with some combination of the loud noises, bad smells, choking dust, and miserable heat and went someplace nicer. You have the strong feeling that you're being watched. >undo Basement (Ivan Roth) [Previous turn undone.] >w Wine Cellar (Nathaniel Edwards) You feel cool air swirling around you as you stand in the manor's wine cellar. Stone floors, stone walls, and dim lighting keep the household's dwindling wine collection fresh and oaky. A large wooden wine rack covers one entire wall of the room, but with only a few bottles left on it. You can see a door to the west, but a large wine cask is standing right in front of it, blocking your way. Another exit leads east. You count five bottles of wine lingering on the wine rack. Each bottle has a different name, all either Italian or faux Italian: the Piccoli Uomini Blu, the Prurito Notturno, the Lettera Segreta, the Isole Perdute and the Testa D'Ancora. >save Ok. >x rack A wooden lattice about six feet wide that reaches up to the low ceiling. Either stocks were running low or someone had ambitions for a much larger wine collection. >x walls You can't see any such thing. >x floor You can't see any such thing. >l Wine Cellar (Nathaniel Edwards) You feel cool air swirling around you as you stand in the manor's wine cellar. Stone floors, stone walls, and dim lighting keep the household's dwindling wine collection fresh and oaky. A large wooden wine rack covers one entire wall of the room, but with only a few bottles left on it. You can see a door to the west, but a large wine cask is standing right in front of it, blocking your way. Another exit leads east. You count five bottles of wine lingering on the wine rack. Each bottle has a different name, all either Italian or faux Italian: the Piccoli Uomini Blu, the Prurito Notturno, the Lettera Segreta, the Isole Perdute and the Testa D'Ancora. >x door You can't see any such thing. >x cask An over-large cask of wine with a rather medieval-looking wooden tap stuck on its end, the only one of its kind in this cellar. Unfortunately, someone had the bright mind to put it right in front of a doorway. >x tap A rather medieval-looking wooden tap stuck on the end of the wine cask. Presumably pulling the tap's handle would pour out whatever's inside. >pull tap You let what seems like gallons of wine pass out of the cask, then close the tap. A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and announces, "The time is now three o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air. >x blu You can't see any such thing. >* sigh That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x piccoli The label says that Piccoli Uomini Blu is a famously hot wine, and consumers should know before drinking that this year's vintage is expecially vegetal. >drink it You uncork the Piccoli Uomini Blu and take time to savor the taste of a fine wine, straight from the bottle, in little sips until each drop is safely nestled in your stomach. >x prurito The label advertises Prurito Notturno as being a buttery red wine, with a food friendly flavor. >drink it You uncork the Prurito Notturno and take a few swigs of the Prurito Notturno and before you know it, the whole thing's gone. >undo Wine Cellar (Nathaniel Edwards) [Previous turn undone.] >x lettera The Lettera Segreta label doesn't describe its contents so much as talk about the wine's excellent terroir, whatever that means. >* secret letter? That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >* Little blue men, night itches, lost islands, ....and anchorhead You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >x isole The label on Isole Perdute claims this crisp white wine is the natural choice for any meal or occasion. >drink it You uncork the Isole Perdute and take a few swigs of the Isole Perdute and before you know it, the whole thing's gone. >undo Wine Cellar (Nathaniel Edwards) [Previous turn undone.] >x testa The label on the Testa d'Ancora is written in a language you don't recognize, with lots of Hs and apostrophes. It gives you a headache to even look at it. >x label Which do you mean, the jar of screws, the label on the spine of the pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew) or the label (smelling faintly of mildew)? >spine The label on the spine of the pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew) is slightly yellowed. It reads: GR 106 .A42 1893 >* hmm That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later. >x pink A quarto-size volume bound in remarkably ugly pink leather, with a label on the spine. The book bears the title Venator in Tenebris, but no author's name is given. The front endpaper is embossed with the insignia of the Backwater Public Library. On the title page, there is a footnote in which the anonymous author appears to be pleading for forgiveness from a hooligan and some kind of metal cup-holder. Frost lines the edges of the library insignia. >read testa The label on the Testa d'Ancora is written in a language you don't recognize, with lots of Hs and apostrophes. It gives you a headache to even look at it. >g The label on the Testa d'Ancora is written in a language you don't recognize, with lots of Hs and apostrophes. It gives you a headache to even look at it. >drink it After you've chugged the entire wine, you can hear something metal jingling around in the bottle. >break bottle Which do you mean, the Piccoli Uomini Blu, the Prurito Notturno, the Lettera Segreta, the Isole Perdute, the Testa D'Ancora, the metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew) or the bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)? >testa Among the glass shards of the broken wine bottle, there lies a key with a red triangle on it. >x key Which do you mean, the Red Triangle Key, the ornate bronze key, the sinister iron key, the frosty blue key, the intricately folded origami key, the silver and ivory key, the splintery wooden key, the small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew), the small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), the Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), the thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), the white key (smelling faintly of mildew), the key from an urn, the bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), the aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)? >red A small metal key with a red triangle etched into the handle. It's sticky and it smells like grapes. >take it Taken. >put it in jar of keys You put the Red Triangle Key into the jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew). >i You are carrying: a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew) a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew) a limp pumpkin stem some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a jar of screws (open but empty) a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) a Red Triangle Key an ornate bronze key a sinister iron key a frosty blue key an intricately folded origami key a silver and ivory key a splintery wooden key a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew) an ominous-looking painting Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew) a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew) a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew) a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew) a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew) a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew) a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew) a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew) an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew) a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew) an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew) a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew) a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew) an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew) De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew) a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew) a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew) a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew) Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew) A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew) Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew) red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew) a white key (smelling faintly of mildew) The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew) a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew) some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew) a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a key from an urn some mildewed leather gloves a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew) a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew) a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew) a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew) a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew) a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew) an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew) loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew) a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew) some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew) a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew) an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew) a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) The Seven Gaunts (smelling faintly of mildew) the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew) the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew) a book list (smelling faintly of mildew) a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew) a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew) a library card (smelling faintly of mildew) Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew) a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew) a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew) a Jansport backpack (smelling faintly of mildew) (open) a hidden pocket (open but empty) a key pocket (open but empty) a book pocket (open) a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew) The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew) a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew) the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) a faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew) an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew) Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew) a side pocket (open but empty) a trash pocket (closed) a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew) an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed) a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew) a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew) a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew) a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew) Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew) a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew) a label (smelling faintly of mildew) a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew) a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew) a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty) a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew) a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew) a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew) a calfskin coat (being worn) a trolley pass (being worn) a gold jacket (being worn) Ed's coveralls (being worn) a pair of leather boots > save Ok. >push cask You move the wine cask about half a centimeter before becoming too exhausted to push further. >open tag You can't see any such thing. >open tap You watch even more wine pour out of the wine cask, forming a gigantic puddle on the floor. Eventually the stream of wine coming from the tap is reduced to mere drops, then stops completely. >push cask You push the still-darned-heavy wine cask out of the doorway, scraping its wooden supporter legs across the stone floor. >open door You can't see any such thing. >x coffee The clouds in your cup form no discernible pattern. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person. A faint smell of mildew emanates from it. >save Ok. >x me Have you always had that mole on your back? Huh. >e Basement (Ivan Roth) It's dark and chilly down here. A damp, mildewy carpet of dimly visible design covers half the floor. It must have been luxuriously soft before it started rotting. A rickety staircase leads back up towards the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. A flimsy plywood door leads north, but you know what lies in that direction. The dimly-lit basement extends in every other direction, south, east and west. A metal hatch opens into darkness below. >e Pantry (Chris Conley) You are in a pantry lined with metal shelves stretching the entire length of both walls. Most of the metal shelves' contents lie deep in shadow, as the room is lit by only a single bare bulb hanging three feet above your head. The flat dark stones echo as you walk, and the air down here is cold and damp. The rest of the basement lies off to the west. A dark doorway beckons to the east. Pale roots of some unknown plant have broken through the ceiling in one corner, dangling halfway to the floor. You can also see a disgusting rotting pumpkin here. >e Workroom (Andrew Plotkin) You are in a circular chamber, walled in the same decaying brickwork which runs all through the manor's basement. A ritual bound of oddly-angled runes has been carved around the perimeter of the room. The only exit is west. A majestic filing cabinet stands in one corner, stuffed to overflowing with antique journals. Next to it is a full-length, badly fogged mirror. The lunar sphere on the wall is entirely red. A knob is visible underneath it. >x me You are hassled, frazzled, and extremely tired of being in this claustrophobic basement. >w Pantry (Chris Conley) You are in a pantry lined with metal shelves stretching the entire length of both walls. Most of the metal shelves' contents lie deep in shadow, as the room is lit by only a single bare bulb hanging three feet above your head. The flat dark stones echo as you walk, and the air down here is cold and damp. The rest of the basement lies off to the west. A dark doorway beckons to the east. Pale roots of some unknown plant have broken through the ceiling in one corner, dangling halfway to the floor. You can also see a disgusting rotting pumpkin here. >w Basement (Ivan Roth) It's dark and chilly down here. A damp, mildewy carpet of dimly visible design covers half the floor. It must have been luxuriously soft before it started rotting. A rickety staircase leads back up towards the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. A flimsy plywood door leads north, but you know what lies in that direction. The dimly-lit basement extends in every other direction, south, east and west. A metal hatch opens into darkness below. >w Wine Cellar (Nathaniel Edwards) You feel cool air swirling around you as you stand in the manor's wine cellar. Stone floors, stone walls, and dim lighting keep the household's dwindling wine collection fresh and oaky. A large wooden wine rack covers one entire wall of the room, but with only a few bottles left on it. You can see a door to the west Another exit leads east. You count four bottles of wine lingering on the wine rack. Each bottle has a different name, all either Italian or faux Italian: the Piccoli Uomini Blu, the Prurito Notturno, the Lettera Segreta and the Isole Perdute. You can see a wine cask here. >x me Have you always had that mole on your back? Huh. >x mole You can't see any such thing. >x back You can't see any such thing. >x cask An over-large cask of wine with a rather medieval-looking wooden tap stuck on its end, the only one of its kind in this cellar. >