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

>save
Ok.

>l
Invasive Library (Justin de Vesine)
Once a study or a small sitting room, a particularly invasive species of library has taken over this space. Walls obscured by stacks of books. Ceiling hidden by stacks of books. The floor might as well be tiled with books. There's a path of sorts from a small doorway to the south to a desk amidst the overgrown collection, and to the southeast, a bookshelf has been shoved aside to reveal a passage through the wall.

>* OK, let's go west from the branching corridor, then check out the sokoban path
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>se

Branching Corridor (Zachary Hodgens)
A trace amount of sunlight filters in impossibly through imperceivable cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the barren wooden walls and floorboards of this narrow passageway. A short distance away you find yourself in a crossroads of sorts. Corridors leading elsewhere go off toward the northwest, west, east, and southeast. Several large potted cacti line the walls of the passageways.

The trace rays of sunlight beaming down from above get in your eyes.

>x sun
You can't see any such thing.

>* ah well
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w

Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

On the chalkboard is a yellow sticky-note.

>* "Riff Conner"?  How are there such awesome names in the world
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Looks like Riff did an escape-the-room parody back in the aughts
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Also LOL re the lampshading of the tower, think this is the first we've heard of it 
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* (There was one in Anchorhead, right?  At least for the observatory?)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* 50 feet is gigantic!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* that is a not bad summary of how science smells, in my memory
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* more BO though (at least at the undergrad level)
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x sticky note
This faded yellow sticky-note is hanging onto the chalkboard with its last sticky breath. The handwriting on it is tough to read, but it appears to say "For the love of [unreadable] don't forget to open the skylight before raising the table this time."

>x me
There aren't any mirrors in here, but you're wearing a maroon and brown-striped wool cardigan over an untucked white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, casual jeans and sneakers, and a leather bracelet you bought on a whim while browsing Etsy.

>* Ho hum, Nitocris Cragne, casual time-traveler
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>i
You are carrying:
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a walkie-talkie (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a desiccated sausage
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  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 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 (closed)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>x cardigan
You can't see any such thing.

>x bracelet
It's a brown leather strap a quarter-inch wide, wrapped twice around your wrist and fastened with a simple metal snap. It has an embossed pattern of knotwork vines and leaves. It is non-interactive.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>remove it
You aren't wearing the leather bracelet.

>* aww
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take it
That's hardly portable.

>take bracelet
That's hardly portable.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago. ...Wait a minute, that isn't how lightning works.

Must be some weird eldritch thing, I guess.

>* nah, time is just weird here, like look at the Etsy thing
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

On the chalkboard is a yellow sticky-note.

>take note
Which do you mean, the yellow sticky-note, Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew), the note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew) or the book list (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>sticky-note
Taken.

>
I beg your pardon?

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>x chalkboard
(the chalkboard)
One of those big old slate chalkboards set in a wooden frame with a pivot so you can flip it over and use the other side. It also has little wheels so you can move it around, but I'm going to tell you right now that it's perfectly fine where it is.

It has a long and elaborate mathematical equation written on it (in chalk, naturally).

>flip chalkboard
(the chalkboard)
You flip the chalkboard over and find that the squiggly symbols in the equation have somehow bled through the slate to the other side. That's odd.

You flip the chalkboard back over to make it easier to not think about that.

>* This is a nice, helpful narrator
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x equation
Well, it basically looks like math, but it features some weird squiggly symbols you don't recognize. They kind of make your eyes water to look at. The equation ends with an equals sign and three large question marks.

>flip chalkboard
(the chalkboard)
You flip the chalkboard over and find that the squiggly symbols in the equation have somehow bled through the slate to the other side. That's odd.

You flip the chalkboard back over to make it easier to not think about that.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>x equation
Well, it basically looks like math, but it features some weird squiggly symbols you don't recognize. They kind of make your eyes water to look at. The equation ends with an equals sign and three large question marks.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>smell
It smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity. Mostly cigarettes.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>x windows
These antique diamond-pane windows would be pretty nice for letting some natural light into the tower, if not for the fact that it's storming like a mofo outside. The view is pretty much just a uniform gray.

>x roof
You can't see any such thing.

>x ceiling
You can't see any such thing.

>x shadows
You can't see any such thing.

>u
You can't go that way.

>x table
The large table in the middle of the room appears to be some kind of operating table, or at least that's what you surmise from all the strange equipment connected to it. Thick electrical cables run all around the perimeter of the surface, which is metal engraved with complex patterns of lines and symbols reminiscent of an old nautical chart. Rather than having legs, the table rests on a rectangular central pillar made of steel planks and machinery. All in all, it seems pretty important.

>x equipment
You can't see any such thing.

>x cables
The large table in the middle of the room appears to be some kind of operating table, or at least that's what you surmise from all the strange equipment connected to it. Thick electrical cables run all around the perimeter of the surface, which is metal engraved with complex patterns of lines and symbols reminiscent of an old nautical chart. Rather than having legs, the table rests on a rectangular central pillar made of steel planks and machinery. All in all, it seems pretty important.

>x symbols
Inspecting the symbols more closely does not make them suddenly recognizable. It does make your brain threaten to give you a whopper of a migraine if you don't stop.

>* nice
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x pillar
The large table in the middle of the room appears to be some kind of operating table, or at least that's what you surmise from all the strange equipment connected to it. Thick electrical cables run all around the perimeter of the surface, which is metal engraved with complex patterns of lines and symbols reminiscent of an old nautical chart. Rather than having legs, the table rests on a rectangular central pillar made of steel planks and machinery. All in all, it seems pretty important.

>get on table
You clamber up onto the operating table, careful not to accidentally kick any of the important-looking gizmos attached to it.

Science Tower (Riff Conner) (on the operating table)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>* hrm
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>out
You get off the operating table.

Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>x stand
An old-fashioned and incredibly sturdy wrought-iron ashtray stand, about two and a half feet tall. The actual ashtray is missing; presumably someone took it away to empty it. Judging from the smell in here this required at least two trained professionals with hazmat suits.

>take it
I mean, you could drag it around the room if you like, or maybe put it onto something sturdy if you don't mind risking a hernia, but it's too heavy to just pick it up and carry it with you.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>put stand on table
You drag the heavy iron ashtray stand over to the operating table. Remembering to bend your knees, you heave the thing up onto the table and stand it up so it won't roll off.

>* there's our lightning rod
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and proclaims, "The time is now ten o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>x barstool
It's an old wooden barstool, and is not important except for having a hamster cage on top of it.

>x cage
A largish wire hamster cage is perched on an old barstool. The traditional wheel has been replaced with a tiny chalkboard, and a nameplate on the corner of the cage reads "Dr. Peanut".

There's a little white hamster lying motionless next to the chalkboard. Oh no... poor Dr. Peanut. ;_;
>* oh no!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>*  I can't really decode that emoticon
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x hamster
(the hamster cage)
A largish wire hamster cage is perched on an old barstool. The traditional wheel has been replaced with a tiny chalkboard, and a nameplate on the corner of the cage reads "Dr. Peanut".

There's a little white hamster lying motionless next to the chalkboard. Oh no... poor Dr. Peanut. ;_;
>pet hamster
The hamster cage isn't open.

>x peanut
Poor little guy. It looks like he got so caught up in his work that he starved to death. ...Probably the fact that nobody's been around to feed him didn't help.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>open cage
You open the hamster cage.

>pet peanut
You pet the poor little dead hamster. He doesn't react. ;_;
>* aww
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take him
Taken.

Poor little guy.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>* OK, we're gonna Frankenstein you back to life, buddy
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* It didn't go so well in the book, but I got a good feeling this time
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>x cabinet
It's a plain gray metal cabinet, such as might store tools and cleaning supplies in a boiler room, or pens and stationery in the office space attached to a warehouse. If this manor doesn't have an elevator, the movers did a lot of cursing.

>open it
Fortunately, it isn't locked. What a hassle that would be, am I right? Unfortunately, it doesn't contain anything very exciting, like weird fetal monsters pickled in formaldehyde, or unlabelled jars of chemicals. Just a pen, a paper bag, and an old key.

>* aha!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x pen
(the black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew))
A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>i
You are carrying:
  Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a walkie-talkie (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a desiccated sausage
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  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 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 (closed)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>put black pen in junk pocket
Which do you mean, the vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew), the black box (smelling faintly of mildew), the mildew, the black business card (smelling faintly of mildew) or the cold spot on your collarbone (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>* wait, is that the one in the cabinet?  
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Guess it just got mildewy really quick
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take pen
(the pen thingy)
Taken.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>i
You are carrying:
  a pen thingy
  Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a walkie-talkie (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a desiccated sausage
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  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 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 (closed)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>   x pen
Which do you mean, the pen thingy or the black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>* oh, no, OK, it is different
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x thingy
On closer inspection, it isn't a pen at all -- it's one of those telescoping pointer things that lecturers use to... point at things. Back before lasers stopped being expensive and magical. It's currently retracted, but you could EXTEND it.

>extend it
You extend the pointer thingy to its full four-foot length. Very satisfying.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>* there's our extension!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>put thingy on stand
Putting things on the ashtray stand would achieve nothing.

>* ah well
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>x cabinet
It's a plain gray metal cabinet, such as might store tools and cleaning supplies in a boiler room, or pens and stationery in the office space attached to a warehouse. If this manor doesn't have an elevator, the movers did a lot of cursing.

In the gray metal cabinet are a bag of peanuts and an old iron key.

>x peanuts
It's a small paper bag with a cartoon peanut stenciled on the front with the "word" PNUTS below it.

>take it
Taken.

>x old iron
This heavy old black iron key probably unlocks something pretty important, if you had to guess.

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take it
Taken.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>l
Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>x barstool
It's an old wooden barstool, and is not important except for having a hamster cage on top of it.

>x console
This big metal console is covered with blinking lights and glowing vacuum tubes (do vacuum tubes glow? Well these ones do anyway) and two of those big zappy Jacob's Ladder things, and even a lava lamp for some reason. The front panel has a huge array of dials and switches and gauges, none of which are labelled in a way that makes sense to you. That is, apart from three large central buttons: a blue one, a green one, and a yellow one, labelled "SKYLIGHT", "LIFT", and "ANTENNA", respectively.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>* OK, seems simple enough
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x cables
The large table in the middle of the room appears to be some kind of operating table, or at least that's what you surmise from all the strange equipment connected to it. Thick electrical cables run all around the perimeter of the surface, which is metal engraved with complex patterns of lines and symbols reminiscent of an old nautical chart. Rather than having legs, the table rests on a rectangular central pillar made of steel planks and machinery. All in all, it seems pretty important.

>put hamster on table
(Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) on the operating table)
You carefully lay the little dead hamster in the middle of the strange operating table.

>* sorry about the smell, Doctor
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>push skylight
(the skylight)
It's too far above you to do anything to, except look at.

>push skylight button
You push the blue button, which makes a satisfying click.

You hear a mechanical groan from far above you. Nothing else seems to happen.

>x skylight button
It's a blue push-button labelled "SKYLIGHT". Presumably it operates the skylight up above. That is probably the safest guess of any you'll make tonight.

>push skylight button
You push the blue button, which makes a satisfying click.

You hear a mechanical groan from far above you. Nothing else seems to happen.

>push antenna
(the antenna)
Nothing obvious happens.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>push lift
You push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, and you hear a loud clang! as the iron ashtray stand hits the closed skylight above. Looks like there's about two or three feet of clearance between the table and the closed skylight, thanks to the ashtray stand.

>push lift
Nothing happens. Perhaps the table lowers automatically after a time.

>z
Time passes.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>z
Time passes.

With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. 
>get on table
You should take Dr. Peanut off of the operating table before you get onto it.

>take peanut
(Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew))
Taken.

Poor little guy.

>get on table
You clamber up onto the operating table, careful not to accidentally kick any of the important-looking gizmos attached to it.

Science Tower (Riff Conner) (on the operating table)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>push lift with pointer
You use the pointer thingy to push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, and bangs into the closed skylight above -- or rather, the ashtray stand bangs into the closed skylight above, leaving you kneeling in a two-and-a-half-foot gap, panicking about nearly having been crushed like a grape in a wine-press.

You spot a latch that is holding the skylight closed. It's just within pulling range.

Oh, and...  You glance around and see a bat nest, which looks much like a bird nest except it's stuck upside-down on the ceiling. Underneath it, on a guano-covered rafter, you spot a bat egg.

>* boom
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x nest
Just like a bird next except upside down and for bats.

>x egg
A bat egg; presumably it fell out of the bat nest above it.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>* err
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take egg
Taken.

With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. 
Science Tower (Riff Conner) (on the operating table)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>push lift with pointer
You use the pointer thingy to push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, and bangs into the closed skylight above -- or rather, the ashtray stand bangs into the closed skylight above, leaving you kneeling in a two-and-a-half-foot gap.

You spot a latch that is holding the skylight closed. It's just within pulling range.

>x latch
An old rotted wooden latch holding the skylight shut. You should be able to reach it from where you are.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>pull latch
You pull on the wooden latch but it's so rotted that it just disintegrates. The effect is the same regardless: the skylight is now unlocked. Presumably.

>z
Time passes.

With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. 
Science Tower (Riff Conner) (on the operating table)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>get off table
You get off the operating table.

Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand (on the table), and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pounding at the windows. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>put hamster on table
(Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) on the operating table)
You carefully lay the little dead hamster in the middle of the strange operating table.

>push antenna
(the antenna)
Nothing obvious happens.

>push antenna button
(the walkie-talkie (smelling faintly of mildew))
You hold down the button, and the speaker produces a stream of static that feels like it's coming from somewhere inside your spine. You don't seem to be picking up any signal in this particular location.

>put walkie-talkie in side pocket
You put the walkie-talkie (smelling faintly of mildew) into the side pocket.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>close it
It isn't something you can close.

>close side pocket
You close the side pocket.

>push antenna button
You push the yellow button, which makes a satisfying click.

A steel antenna about two feet tall telescopes out of the corner of the operating table.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>x table
The large table in the middle of the room appears to be some kind of operating table, or at least that's what you surmise from all the strange equipment connected to it. Thick electrical cables run all around the perimeter of the surface, which is metal engraved with complex patterns of lines and symbols reminiscent of an old nautical chart. Rather than having legs, the table rests on a rectangular central pillar made of steel planks and machinery. All in all, it seems pretty important.

On the operating table is Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew).

With a tiny motorized whine, the operating table's antenna retracts.

>push lift
You push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, and you hear a loud clang! as the iron ashtray stand hits the closed skylight above. Looks like there's about two or three feet of clearance between the table and the closed skylight, thanks to the ashtray stand.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and announces, "The time is now nine o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>push skylight
(the skylight)
It's too far above you to do anything to, except look at.

>push skylight button
You push the blue button, which makes a satisfying click.

You hear mechanical noises above you, and suddenly rain is pouring into the room, mainly onto the operating table. It's a good thing the control console is up against the wall.

>push lift
Nothing happens. Perhaps the table lowers automatically after a time.

With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. 
>push lift
You push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, all the way up to the open skylight.

>z
Time passes.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

A bolt of lightning hits the iron ashtray stand you left on the operating table. The electricity disperses without activating the table's electrical circuits. 
With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. 
>take ashtray
After a struggle, you manage to get the ashtray stand off the table and onto the floor, without the intervening step of crushing your toes.

>* I guess we wait for the thunder (thus the time reversal)
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>push lift button
You push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, all the way up to the open skylight.

You hear a faint cracking noise, and realize that the bat egg you've been carrying around is hatching! The shell cracks and crumbles away, revealing a small red fish. Amazing! You had heard stories of the red herring, which lays its eggs in other animals' nests in a similar fashion to the cuckoo, but you never expected to actually see one!

>* aha!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x herring
You hatched this red herring from a bat egg. Well, I guess it was a red herring egg, actually. It blinks at you with big round eyes, wondering if you're its mother.

>hug it
That noun did not make sense in this context.

>hug herring
You can't see any such thing.

>pet herring
You can't see any such thing.

>* aww
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>i
You are carrying:
  a red herring
  an old iron key
  a bag of peanuts (closed)
  a pointer thingy (extended) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a desiccated sausage
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  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 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 (closed)
    a side pocket (closed)
    a trash pocket (open but empty)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

Unfortunately, the lightning wasn't attracted to the operating table, and nothing in particular happens.

With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. 
>* oh, gotta push antenna again
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>push lift button
You push the green button, which makes a satisfying click.

The operating table rises into the air on pneumatically-driven scissor-lift arms, all the way up to the open skylight.

>push antenna button
You push the yellow button, which makes a satisfying click.

A steel antenna about two feet tall telescopes out of the corner of the operating table.

>z
Time passes.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

The lighting hits the operating table's antenna, sending 1.21 gigawatts of raw electrical power coursing through the table's circuits. You can't really see what's happening from down here, but there's a lot of flashing lights, and after a moment, a distant, confused squeak.

With a loud hiss of pneumatics, the operating table slowly lowers itself to the ground. Dr. Peanut looks around with a baffled expression.

With a tiny motorized whine, the operating table's antenna retracts.

>give peanuts to dr peanut
Dr. Peanut glances at the bag of peanuts, but isn't interested.

Dr. Peanut makes an impatient squeaky noise.

>open bag
You open the paper bag, and discover a single lonely peanut inside it.

> x peanut
(the bag of peanut)
It's a small paper bag with a cartoon peanut stenciled on the front with the "word" PNUTS below it.

In the bag of peanut is a single peanut.

Dr. Peanut makes an impatient squeaky noise.

>pet doctor peanut
You pet Dr. Peanut, who gives you an annoyed look. He gestures at his cage and squeaks urgently.

>put doctor in cage
(first taking Dr. Peanut (smelling faintly of mildew))
Taken.

Dr. Peanut squeaks at you and gestures at his cage.

Dr. Peanut waddles over to his little chalkboard, eager to resume his work.

>give chalk to doctor
(first taking the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew))
Dr. Peanut glances at the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew), but isn't interested.

Dr. Peanut scans the writing on his little chalkboard, re-familiarizing himself with the work at hand.

>* aww
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x peanut
(the bag of peanut)
It's a small paper bag with a cartoon peanut stenciled on the front with the "word" PNUTS below it.

In the bag of peanut is a single peanut.

Dr. Peanut erases the trailing line at the end of the equation, and taps his little chin contemplatively with the chalk.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>take single
(the single peanut)
Taken.

Dr. Peanut writes some more symbols on the tiny chalkboard, then shakes his fuzzy little head and erases them.

>x it
A single peanut in the shell. Or rather, a single peanut shell, which has two peanuts inside it, but we call it a peanut anyway instead of "a peanuts". It's probably linguistically related to "a pair of pants".

Dr. Peanut folds his little arms and tilts his head to the side, thinking hard.

>give it to doctor
Dr. Peanut's eyes widen when he sees the peanut, but he refuses it. His gestures and squeaks are difficult to interpret, but it seems like he doesn't feel he's earned it.

Dr. Peanut suddenly makes a squeaky 'Eureka!'-type noise and starts scribbling furiously on the little chalkboard.

A bright flash of lightning illuminates the windows, as presaged by the thunder a moment ago.

>x little chalkboard
Dr. Peanut is hard at work, trying to solve the weird equation on his little chalkboard.

Dr. Peanut finishes his writing, takes a step back to check his work, and gives a satisfied little nod. Then he turns around and waves at you excitedly.

>give single to doctor
Which do you mean, the single peanut or the single brown leather boot (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>peanut
Dr. Peanut accepts the peanut happily and graciously. Instead of cramming it into his cheeks the way you would expect a hamster to do, he cradles it in his arms as though it were a major award for excellence in science. Which, in a sense, it is.

[Your score has just gone up by one point.]

>* hey, now we have two points!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>z
Time passes.

Dr. Peanut basks in the glory of scientific discovery, and gives his peanut a satisfied pat.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

Thunder booms loudly outside, rattling the windows.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

Dr. Peanut basks in the glory of scientific discovery, and gives his peanut a satisfied pat.

>* hah, that point was just for fun
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* dr peanut, we salute you!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* I loved *everything* about that
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>save
Ok.

>e
Dr. Peanut squeaks queryingly as you leave.

Branching Corridor (Zachary Hodgens)
A trace amount of sunlight filters in impossibly through imperceivable cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the barren wooden walls and floorboards of this narrow passageway. A short distance away you find yourself in a crossroads of sorts. Corridors leading elsewhere go off toward the northwest, west, east, and southeast. Several large potted cacti line the walls of the passageways.

The trace rays of sunlight beaming down from above get in your eyes.

>se
You make your way into the observatory. Your head pounds with the incoherent horror of the day, but here among the stars there is calm.

You carefully sidestep through the maze of cacti you have built.

The Observatory (Joey Jones)
The observatory is a cramped domed room cluttered with all manner of mechanical contrivance. The way out is northwest.

At the top of the dome is a large telescope. Immediately beneath it is a huge device of brass and gears and dozens of multifaceted lenses.

To one side of the dome is a worn wooden lectern, set before a large chalk circle.

The device is projecting a star sign upon the walls of the dome.

>* That's the end of the attic, I think
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* can't be too many rooms left now
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Joey Jones is another author I've missed due to my IF-vacation coinciding with his most productive period
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* But he did an Andromeda game, Sub Rosa, which seems like a really fun steampunk espionage game...
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* I should play his stuff, just browsing his IFDB profile is making me want to check everything out
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Also, fun fact, someone asked if I was Joey Jones under a pseudonym after I entered my first game into IF Comp
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* (I kind of wish I was, and was just playing a loooooong con)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>save
Ok.

>* Anyway, another clear Anchorhead riff
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x contrivance
The device appears to be a planetarium projector. It reflects the stars from the telescope onto a series of mirrors that bounce them through an internal orrery which links them up into star signs to project onto the dark walls of the dome.

Sticking out prominently from the device are a crank and a dial for turning, a toggle for pushing, and a lever and a pulley for pulling.

>* I see
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Well, not what the lever and pulley do
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>l
The Observatory (Joey Jones)
The observatory is a cramped domed room cluttered with all manner of mechanical contrivance. The way out is northwest.

At the top of the dome is a large telescope. Immediately beneath it is a vast projector, bristling with obscure controls.

To one side of the dome is a worn wooden lectern, set before a large chalk circle.

The device is projecting a star sign upon the walls of the dome.

>x telescope
The telescope is huge and it juts out of the dome into the night sky. Rather than having an eyepiece, a series of mirrors reflects the output into the device beneath it.

>x projector
The projector reflects the stars from the telescope onto a series of mirrors that bounce them through an internal orrery which links them up into star signs to project onto the dark walls of the dome.

Sticking out prominently from the device are a crank and a dial for turning, a toggle for pushing, and a lever and a pulley for pulling.

>* Reflectors are better than refractors anyway
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x controls
There are six buttons on the box. One button is large and flat. The five remaining buttons are smaller and are each engraved with a different symbol - a circle, a vertical line, a V-shape, a Y-shape, and an X-shape.

>* Oh man, *lots* of controls on this guy
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Oh wait that's the box
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>put box in side pocket
Which do you mean, the ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew), the box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew), the black box (smelling faintly of mildew), the pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) or the box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>ornate
You unzip the side pocket, deposit the ornate metallic box (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the side pocket back up again.

>x controls
You can't see any such thing.

>x lectern
The wooden lectern is worn smooth at the top. Evidently in the long history of the Manor, many books have been placed upon it.

>x circle
A chalk circle spreads out on the floor below the lectern, perfectly round. The chalk is accreted upon layer-upon-layer of earlier circles.

>x sign
Lines light up novel connections between the stars, making an uncanny new star signs that spread across the walls of the observatory.

The Liar is ascending in the house of the Hanged Man.

>* hmm
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>enter circle
That's not something you can enter.

>* We need the mouth descending opposing the Hanged Man
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x projector
The projector reflects the stars from the telescope onto a series of mirrors that bounce them through an internal orrery which links them up into star signs to project onto the dark walls of the dome.

Sticking out prominently from the device are a crank and a dial for turning, a toggle for pushing, and a lever and a pulley for pulling.

>turn crank
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Adept.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and squawks, "The time is now eight o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Despair.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Watcher.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Hook.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Needle.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Toad.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Broken Tower.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Wheel.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Beggar.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Prophet.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Ennui.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Spider.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Fly.

>g
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Sleeper.

>* this is a lot o signs
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>turn crank
You turn the crank one step, revealing upon the wall the sign of the Mouth.

>* ha!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>turn dial
Which do you mean, the dial or the lock?

>dial
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x lock
A four-digit combination lock, currently turned to 0319.

>put lock in side pocket
That seems to be a part of the suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew).

>put suitcase in side pocket
You unzip the side pocket, deposit the suitcase (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the side pocket back up again.

>* nice
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>turn dial
You turn the dial one step, unveiling the sign of the Noose.

>undo
The Observatory (Joey Jones)
[Previous turn undone.]

>x sign
You decipher the star signs lining the walls: the Mouth is ascending in the house of the Hanged Man.

>* huh, are the crank and dial the same?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x projector
The projector reflects the stars from the telescope onto a series of mirrors that bounce them through an internal orrery which links them up into star signs to project onto the dark walls of the dome.

Sticking out prominently from the device are a crank and a dial for turning, a toggle for pushing, and a lever and a pulley for pulling.

>push toggle
With a squeal, the whole projector swivels to a new position. Now the Tendril is descending above the Nemesis.

>undo
The Observatory (Joey Jones)
[Previous turn undone.]

>pull lever
You pull the lever and the projector adjusts its focus: now the Mouth is under the Hanged Man.

>* OK, that's close...
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>g
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>pull lever
You pull the lever and the projector adjusts its focus: now the Mouth is opposing the Hanged Man.

>* OK, almost there!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>pull pulley
You pull the pulley and the projector turns 45 degrees: now the Mouth is in motion.

>g
You pull the pulley and the projector turns 45 degrees: now the Mouth is descending.

>x sign
You decipher the star signs lining the walls: the Mouth is descending opposing the Hanged Man.

>* Boom!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* ....er, what did we boom?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Oh wait, this is where we do the ritual, isn't it?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* The tome goes on the lecturn, etc.
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x coffee
The contents of your coffee cup shock you so much that you almost drop it. Instead of organic liquid curves and swirls, the cream forms a weblike pattern of jagged geometric lines that radiate out from the center at irregular intervals like bolts of lightning.

According to the book you read, images like this occur when your fate depends on so many separate actions and courses of destiny that it can no longer be adequately divined by a leftover cup of now-cold muck water.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>* yup yup
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>save
Ok.

>* Well, we finished one piece of the ritual
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Too bad, I was hoping we could do it anywher
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* In which case I was gonna go back to the place where they play Chumbawamba
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* OK, let's swap our herring for some magic beans
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* And we have a new key to try too
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>save
Ok.

>nw

Branching Corridor (Zachary Hodgens)
A trace amount of sunlight filters in impossibly through imperceivable cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the barren wooden walls and floorboards of this narrow passageway. A short distance away you find yourself in a crossroads of sorts. Corridors leading elsewhere go off toward the northwest, west, east, and southeast. Several large potted cacti line the walls of the passageways.

The trace rays of sunlight beaming down from above get in your eyes.

>e

Attic (Lane Puetz)
From this corner of the attic, paths lead south and west, or you can head back down the rickety staircase. A damp wind flows through a gash in the exterior wall.

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Eggplant Line -- Cragne Manor Attic.

>d

A Shadowy Closet (Molly Ying)
A shaft of light through the door to the west falls upon as tidy a closet as ever you've seen. The shelves are clear, and now you can see a trapdoor in the ceiling above them.

>w

MASTER BEDROOM (ROWAN LIPKOVITS)
Here we have the master bedroom of Cragne Manor, which is by turns contradictorily capacious and cramped.  Though you can't put your finger on it, something about this windowless chamber sucks the very air out of your lungs and puts you on edge.  One would have to be a master indeed to achieve any rest in this offputting room.

Though it is relatively sparsely furnished, it wouldn't be much of a bedoom without a bed -- and there it is, a four-poster tall, dingy, imposing and unsettling.  Next to it is a bedside table, on which resides some torturously elongated lamp -- apparently the dim room's only light source, currently turned off.

To the west is the hallway door through which you first arrived, and to the east there is also a door to what is most likely a walk-in closet.

>w

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east to the master bedroom (which is also open); a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

The broken doors to the armoire lie on the floor near the center of the room.

The doorless armoire stands against the north-west wall. There's nothing inside.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>d

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>n

Dining Room (Roberto Colnaghi)
A long, rectangular mahogany table takes up most of the room. The room is old and dusty, and it seems decades have passed since the last time someone had dinner here. On the table lies a broken machine, and a calendar is pinned on the wall. Doorways lead west, east, and south.

>w

The Kitchen (Edward B)
The Cragne family kitchen. Light from a naked bulb feeds shadow down the spaces between old cabinets, counters and bookshelves. A dusty, doorless fridge overlooks an oven just as worse for wear. You'd guess it's been a minute since anyone's used this room to cook. A doorway leads east, and a wooden door set in the floor appears to lead to a cellar or basement.

>w
You can't go that way.

>d
Carefully, you descend the creaking steps.

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.

>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. There's a support column in the middle of the room with a system diagram on it, and lashed to the column there is a faraday cage with a window on its door looking inside. Next to it is a an overlay engine, and behind it a a dimensional stabilizer. 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 the control panel for the whole system. 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 faraday cage there is a sign 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.

On the heavy-duty table are an AE9B711D punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a 00A02209 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a C353F128 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a 0B46E931 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a FFFFFFFF punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), the Journal of Edwin Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) and two blank punch cards.

>d

Malign Tunnel (Damon L. Wakes)
The space beneath the boiler room is damp and narrow, little more than a dogleg corridor set into the earth. Something about its shape, its proportions, is deeply unsettling to you. There is a rusting iron ladder leading to the floor above, and a green door leading to the southwest, its paint flaking onto the uneven stone floor. The curving brick walls on either side of you arc gracefully inwards to form a vaulted ceiling. You would be able to stand comfortably were it not for the pipes that stretch like tendons above your head.

A phantom trolley stop sign reads Black Line -- Underground.

>sw

Amorphous Tunnel (Bill Maya)
This tunnel bends to the northeast. The walls shimmer slightly, gently undulating in the spectral darkness. To the west, set into the wall, almost invisible in the mortal dimness, is an antediluvian door. Daylight and a slight breeze wafts down some non-euclidean steps that lead up.

>u

Courtyard (Finn Rosenloev)
As you walk cross the square courtyard, you are repeatedly twisting your legs, and you cannot help but wonder how many broken legs these cobblestones have caused over time.

A beautifully decorated well built by blocks of granite dominates the courtyard. Opposite it, to the east, is the entrance to the curiosity store.

To the north, a secret passage is hidden in the niche near the barred gate. Not too far from the well is the way down to the tunnel.

Above you, two guard towers rise majestically on either side of the drawbridge, and a parapet connects them so that soldiers of those days were able to quickly move from one side to the other.

You can't help but feel that the castle is watching you with expressionless eyes through the empty windows.

>e

Curiosity Shop (Rachel Spitler)
A mingling of comfortable scents welcomes you to the small shop -- coffee, apples, cedar, soap, peppercorn -- and below it, just a hint of something metallic you can't quite recognize. The large windows behind you cast a dappled sort of light over the rug-strewn floors, the cheerful back counter with its display case underneath, the walls crowded with goods for sale. The courtyard lies back out to the west.

Jessenia seems to be getting ready to close for the day.


>give herring to jessenia
Jessenia's eyes light up. "Oh! Is this--? Did you bring this for the shop?"
(y/n): y
"Haha! It's perfect! Look at you!" She reaches out; you hesitate, checking the red herring's reaction, but it seems surprisingly interested. Gently, she takes the fish and holds it up in the air, cooing into its face in puppy-dog tones. Accordingly, it wriggles cheerfully like she's the best thing it's ever seen, which (if you're honest) she probably is. You have no idea what your face is doing.

"This is so much better than I expected," she laughs, lowering the fish. As she does, it suddenly flicks its body in one huge lurch and spits out an object, which clatters to the floor. After a moment's shock, Jessenia stoops down to pick it up, looking, if anything, more amused than ever. "A funny old key," she says wonderingly. "Ha! This fish knew what kind of shop it was coming to." She offers the key to you, grinning. "Here you go --  a curiosity, with my thanks. Oh, and a receipt!" Crossing to the counter with the herring nestled under her elbow, she quickly writes one out. "I'll write a check and register you as a customer first thing in the morning. Come back and tell me if you find out where that key goes!"

(Your inventory became less wiggly, and you got the ancient key.)

>* aww, yay, I'm glad there's a happy ending for the herring
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x ancient key
A heavy, ancient key of some dark metal. The bow is of coiling, almost slimy-looking knotwork, while the wards are slightly pointed at the ends, like gothic windows.  Despite the absence of rust, it gives a sense of having never seen the light of day before now. It feels dirty even after you wipe it on your pant leg.

>save
Ok.

>* maybe that's for the sarcophagus?  We have three new keys I think
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>save
Ok.

>* let's try it I guess
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x coffee
(the smell)
You can't seem to find where the scent is coming from. On the air, you catch a whiff of lemony freshness.

>x cup
The swirls in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>ask jessenia about herring
Jessenia beams down at the herring. "I think I'll turn that glass case under the counter into an aquarium. What do you think, little buddy? Would you like that?" The fish flaps wildly in response.

>ask jessenia about key
Which do you mean, Konstantin's keys, the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew), a tarnished brass key, the slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew), the nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew), the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew), the keypad, the aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), the ancient key, the bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), the key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew), the long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew), the hefty, rust-streaked iron key, the tiny brass key, the white key (smelling faintly of mildew), the sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew), the Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew), the small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), the small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew), the old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), the splintery wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew), the ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew), the sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), the frosty blue key, the silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew), the ornate silver key, the thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>ancient
"Let me know if you figure out where it leads!" she says.

>* Jessenia, you're allright
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>w

Courtyard (Finn Rosenloev)
As you walk cross the square courtyard, you are repeatedly twisting your legs, and you cannot help but wonder how many broken legs these cobblestones have caused over time.

A beautifully decorated well built by blocks of granite dominates the courtyard. Opposite it, to the east, is the entrance to the curiosity store.

To the north, a secret passage is hidden in the niche near the barred gate. Not too far from the well is the way down to the tunnel.

Above you, two guard towers rise majestically on either side of the drawbridge, and a parapet connects them so that soldiers of those days were able to quickly move from one side to the other.

You can't help but feel that the castle is watching you with expressionless eyes through the empty windows.

>d

Amorphous Tunnel (Bill Maya)
This tunnel bends to the northeast. The walls shimmer slightly, gently undulating in the spectral darkness. To the west, set into the wall, almost invisible in the mortal dimness, is an antediluvian door. Daylight and a slight breeze wafts down some non-euclidean steps that lead up.

>w

Narrow Straits (Mathbrush)
You find yourself in a dark, narrow space between two stone walls. Moisture condenses from the ceiling and drips down the stone bricks to the floor. Doors are east and west.

A foul sarcophagus occupies almost all of the space, leaving you cramped against the walls.

>unlock sarcophagus with slimy key
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock sarcophagus with ancient key
You press the key into the keyhole on the center of the sarcophagus. You encounter slight resistance.

Pushing the key further, you displace a pint's worth of black slime that wells up and drips down the sides of the sarcophagus. Your hand burns where the slime touches it, but it fades when you wipe it off.

>* there we are!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>turn key
Which do you mean, the ancient key, the old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), the slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew), the nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew), the key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew), 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), the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew), the silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew), the sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew), the sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew), the ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew), the Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew), 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) or the long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>ancient
Nothing obvious happens.

>l
Narrow Straits (Mathbrush)
You find yourself in a dark, narrow space between two stone walls. Moisture condenses from the ceiling and drips down the stone bricks to the floor. Doors are east and west.

A foul sarcophagus occupies almost all of the space, leaving you cramped against the walls.

>open sarcophagus
You kneel down in the filth and open the sarcophagus. The pent-up slime spills out and fouls your clothing.

The pulsing, withered source of the black slime quivers in the center of the sarcophagus: a repulsive cyst.

>* there we are!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x slime
(the slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew))
A thick, acrid residue of paint, slime, and something unplaceable obscures whatever kind of key this is.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>put slimy key in key pocket
You put the slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew) into the key pocket.

>close key pocket
You close the key pocket.

>x slime
The black slime oozes form the sarcophagus and onto the floor. It reeks.

>eat it
Your throat burns with fire but your eyes behold a glorious light. The room lifts in the air as your soul crumbles into dozens of smaller pieces. You become one with the countless others trapped in the slime of the Cyst.

In a horrifying way, it feels good.



    *** You are one. ***



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
Narrow Straits (Mathbrush)
[Previous turn undone.]

>* Same I think
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>open key pocket
You open the key pocket, revealing a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew).

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and announces, "The time is now seven o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>take slimy
(the slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew))
Taken.

>x cyst
A pustule from the proboscis of one of the Lesser Gods, The Cyst is truly the most repulsive artifact contained in Cragne Manor. It constantly quivers and emits a sickly warmth.

>take it
You place both hands on the cyst and gently tug it. It separates from the fleshy veins attaching it to the sarcophagus. Ichor spills out of the wounds for a moment before slowing to a drip and crusting over.

>* Thanks for this, Brian.  Thanks so much
You can't see whom to talk to, but be assured that they can see you.

>x cyst
A pustule from the proboscis of one of the Lesser Gods, The Cyst is truly the most repulsive artifact contained in Cragne Manor. It constantly quivers and emits a sickly warmth.

>eat it
Your throat burns with fire but your eyes behold a glorious light. The room lifts in the air as your soul crumbles into dozens of smaller pieces. You become one with the countless others trapped in the slime of the Cyst.

In a horrifying way, it feels good.



    *** You are one. ***



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
Narrow Straits (Mathbrush)
[Previous turn undone.]

>* Anyway, boom!
You can't see whom to talk to, but be assured that they can see you.

>save
Ok.

>w

Subterranean tunnel (Drew M)
Your light reflects off the cold, shin-deep water. Tiny shadows jump and skitter away from you, making it hard to tell where the walls end and the wildlife begins.  The tunnel continues off to the northwest. To the east lies a door. The way back to the surface lies above. To the north, the stones have recessed to form an alcove a few feet deep.

A weird woman waves and watches you wantonly from the wall.

"Hey, you! I'm waiting! Can you hear?"

>u
Taking a deep breath, you grasp the ladder for support and hook your leg up to the first available step. The metal creeks and groans alarmingly as you transfer your weight, but the bolts hold firm. You shakily gather yourself and begin to ascend back up to the surface.

Under the Bridge (Tenth)
The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river.

>sw
You can't go that way.

>s

River Walk (Adam Whybray)
A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands.

Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. 

The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun.

There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river.

The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge.

On the Makaskuta river is a buoy.

You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here.

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Aqua Line -- River Walk.

>u
You can't go that way.

>nw

Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti)
The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest.
Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank.

The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves.

>* let's try the centipede
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>e
Your feet finally touch down on some blackened shore and into some large subterrane. The slick black stone of the cavern arcs high above your head with strange formations that grow downwards and then out in oddly perpendicular angles. The damp rock moves in and out of focus as some pulsing green light illuminates the space.

Taking a step, you feel the sand pulling at your shoes as though it were thick mud or quicksand. Your feet sink with every step, settling on some solid stone platform just beneath this layer of cloying sand that prevents you from being entirely swallowed.

You pass between two monolithic pillars: oily green-black stone of a height that makes you dizzy to comprehend. Between them, a skeletal bridge stretches out across the chasm.

The crossing spans a ravine of tumultuous water that roars like some uncaged beast and echoes around the cavern. Its Stygian call chills you and draws you in by equal measures as you take the first step onto the slats that form the bridge.

Bridge (Daniel Stelzer and Jemma Briggeman)
You are standing on a bridge spanning east to west in the middle of an echoing cavern. In the center of the bridge is a large sacrilegious sculpture constructed of pipes that climb up to a cauldron filled with an eerily glowing green moss, the only light source in the room. Beneath your feet you can hear the crashing of the river below. Ahead of you, to your horror, there are slats missing on the bridge - you'll never make it across without replacing them.


On the gap in the bridge are some flat bones.

The rope lies abandoned on the ground in a tangle, one end tied to the bridge, the other to some metallic contraption.

>e

Outside Pub (Jason Lautzenheiser)
As the street runs east through this side of town, it narrows as the jagged rooftops on either side of the road reach out to each other. To the north is the pub. You can continue to the west where you see a bridge. As you pause on the narrow brick sidewalk which lays unevenly along the ugly, half-crumbling brick walls, you hear a train whistle in the distance. A sign hangs loosely above the pub entrance and to the side is a murky window. 

You can see a newspaper box here.

>e

Constabulary Road (Harkness Munt)
The road phases into little more than a wide dirt track winding from the west towards the edge of town to the northeast.  A paved walk wanders through an iron gate which interrupts a high stone wall looming to the north. A memorial bench sits just outside its shadow. A thickly-woven rampart of vegetation obstructs passage to the south, but you notice a narrow deer trail cutting a path through the deep woods.

A barricade spans the road to the northeast, and beyond it a large shallow pit is being excavated. If you're careful, you could skirt the edges of the pit and continue along the northeast road.

A spectral trolley stop sign reads Orange Line -- Constabulary Road.

>ne

Hillside Path (Jack Welch)
You are in a hillside hollow flanked on three sides by sheer granite cliffs and on the other by gnarled vegetation.

Three trailheads hold out some chance of respite: north, southwest, and southeast.

You can see a stone altar here.

>n

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

A phantom trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>ne

Cragne Family Plot (Mark Britton)
A cramped and neglected place on unwholesome yellow soil. Over the years the gravestones have shifted like teeth in an overcrowded mouth, collapsing one atop the other. Crabgrass pokes up limply between them, urine-yellow and parched-looking. The earth mounds up around the shabby crypt, as if it's sunk over the years into the Vermont topsoil. You wonder who would want to be buried here--and who would willingly consign their ancestors to this brutal place. Perhaps that's why it's been so neglected. 

Four squat columbariums stand north, east, south, and west of here. A winding and uncertain path leads southwest. By stepping over collapsed gravestones and bleached obelisks you can go northwest. Carefully. You could also enter the crypt from here, if you were able to open it.

Three graves nearby draw your eye. One headstone teeters drunkenly, half overrun by lichen. One headstone has collapsed entirely. An adjacent plot stands open, overlooked by a blank headstone. The grave within is flooded almost to the top with bubbling rainwater.

>nw

The Cragne Manor's Back Garden (Austin Auclair)
Vines splay across the landscape, every direction they shoot, seemingly racing to the tops of trees to pull them down. The vines wind up and around every structure, overrunning them with sheer, sinister mass. The vines grow in hypnotic tracks across the yard, almost to suggest that they were woven, braided, and arranged with care. It's both unnerving and unusually pretty. If there are windows or a door on the back of the manor house they're utterly smothered by the vines that clamber up the wall and onto the roof, and nothing less than a chainsaw could crack open that tomb.

In the center of the yard is a large marble fountain adorned with a chubby cherub. On the left side of the garden is the birdbath that you knocked over. To the left of the fallen birdbath is the outline of a once-hidden pond and a flat stone stuck in the ground where the birdbath used to stand. Near the rear, southeast corner of the garden is a large garden shed with an adjoining shelf of supplies.

>in
You open the door further to allow you to pass through. You go inside the garden shed.

The Shambolic Shack (Michael Fessler)
A dimly-lit shack with crude plywood walls. An octagonal window set high on one wall admits a feeble shaft of moonlight. Rickety wire shelving sits precariously in one dimly lit corner, and a battered metal wheelbarrow rests in the opposite corner. A rough doorway leads back out.

>give sausage to centipede
As you bring the desiccated sausage closer, the heaving surface of the soil is suddenly broken by a furiously working set of clattering mouth-parts and probing antennae -- followed immediately by the first several inches of a centipede, yellow and chitinous, thick as an elephant's trunk.

Several antennae brush against the desiccated sausage, but soon move on in disinterest. Thoughtfully, you reclaim the rejected sausage. Maybe there's something you could do to make it even more tainted and disgusting?

>* lol there are several things
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>se
Back outside is the only way you can go.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a perfect fern, just like in a fancy latte. 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
The Shambolic Shack (Michael Fessler)
A dimly-lit shack with crude plywood walls. An octagonal window set high on one wall admits a feeble shaft of moonlight. Rickety wire shelving sits precariously in one dimly lit corner, and a battered metal wheelbarrow rests in the opposite corner. A rough doorway leads back out.

>put sausage in gloves
You slide the desiccated sausage into one noxious glove and twirl it a few times. When you extract it, there are already fine strands of fungus spreading across its surface.

>* In terms of the ways I could have grossed-up that sausuge, on a scale of 1-10 that was like a 4
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>give sausage to centipede
As you bring the desiccated sausage closer, the heaving surface of the soil is suddenly broken by a furiously working set of clattering mouth-parts and probing antennae -- followed immediately by the first several inches of a centipede, yellow and chitinous, thick as an elephant's trunk.

Several antennae strain toward the fungus-wreathed sausage. Suddenly and with a resounding SNAP!, terrifying mandibles seize one end of the sausage. You hurriedly let it go, and watch the tainted charcuterie vanish into the centipede's maw. The creature's frenzied motions begin to slow. Perhaps it's sated for now.

>search wheelbarrow
A battered metal wheelbarrow. Or at least, it used to be when it still had a front wheel. With only a twisted axle remaining, I guess now it's just a "barrow". It is full of glistening black soil.

A sudden movement draws your attention back to the wheelbarrow. The enormous centipede is lying coiled on the surface of the glistening soil, writhing in unearthly convulsions. As its movements slow, you see a wave of gray fuzz erupt from the creature's mouth and spread like fire down the length of its body. With one final convulsion, the fungus-encrusted monstrosity heaves itself over the wheelbarrow's edge, toppling to the floor with a sodden thud. It lies motionless, save for the swaying mycelial fronds protruding from every crack and orifice.

>* ick
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>search soil
You frantically reach into the now-calm soil. At once, near the top, you encounter a smooth object and pull it out of the soil. It's a spray bottle.

>* ...huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x spray bottle
A plastic spray bottle labelled "Handwavizole: For Rapid Treatment of endomycorrhizi yuggothi Infestation".

>spray centimede
You can't see any such thing.

>spray centipede
Nope nope nope. Shudder.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a roller blade. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* this is a multi-step puzzle I guess
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x centipede
The motionless fungus-ridden carcass of a giant centipede, festooned with swaying mycelial fronds that protrude from every crack and orifice.

>eat it
Nope nope nope. Shudder.

>save
Ok.

>se
Back outside is the only way you can go.

>out

The Cragne Manor's Back Garden (Austin Auclair)
Vines splay across the landscape, every direction they shoot, seemingly racing to the tops of trees to pull them down. The vines wind up and around every structure, overrunning them with sheer, sinister mass. The vines grow in hypnotic tracks across the yard, almost to suggest that they were woven, braided, and arranged with care. It's both unnerving and unusually pretty. If there are windows or a door on the back of the manor house they're utterly smothered by the vines that clamber up the wall and onto the roof, and nothing less than a chainsaw could crack open that tomb.

In the center of the yard is a large marble fountain adorned with a chubby cherub. On the left side of the garden is the birdbath that you knocked over. To the left of the fallen birdbath is the outline of a once-hidden pond and a flat stone stuck in the ground where the birdbath used to stand. Near the rear, southeast corner of the garden is a large garden shed with an adjoining shelf of supplies.

>se

Cragne Family Plot (Mark Britton)
A cramped and neglected place on unwholesome yellow soil. Over the years the gravestones have shifted like teeth in an overcrowded mouth, collapsing one atop the other. Crabgrass pokes up limply between them, urine-yellow and parched-looking. The earth mounds up around the shabby crypt, as if it's sunk over the years into the Vermont topsoil. You wonder who would want to be buried here--and who would willingly consign their ancestors to this brutal place. Perhaps that's why it's been so neglected. 

Four squat columbariums stand north, east, south, and west of here. A winding and uncertain path leads southwest. By stepping over collapsed gravestones and bleached obelisks you can go northwest. Carefully. You could also enter the crypt from here, if you were able to open it.

Three graves nearby draw your eye. One headstone teeters drunkenly, half overrun by lichen. One headstone has collapsed entirely. An adjacent plot stands open, overlooked by a blank headstone. The grave within is flooded almost to the top with bubbling rainwater.

>sw

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

A spectral trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>in
You climb the steps to the porch.

Mudroom (Matt Weiner)
The porch is a mudroom, a place for taking off coats and muddy shoes. The marble front wall seems like a sheer cliff face, the porch like a flimsy shelter built onto it. The front door leads inside to the north.

In one corner of the porch a strangely shaped hook is fastened to the wall. A black cloak hangs beside it.

In the other corner of the porch is a small wooden table.

A slightly muddy welcome mat lies in front of the door.

>e
You can go south back down to the front walk or north in through the front door.

>n

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The night sky is dark and full of stars. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>e

Gallery (YerrikTRB/Erica Newman)
A long and narrow room, with a satin wallcovering in rich, patterned green above the creamy wainscot paneling. The room is overcrowded with paintings and furniture. There are doors at either end of the gallery, leading north and west.

It's a godawful mess in here and it's entirely your fault. It looks like you've cleared the path through the room, and there may be nothing left to do but enjoy the paintings.

You can see a photograph here.

>n

Rec Room (Zack Johnson)
The manor's rec room is short for the manor's recreation room.  Even though it's as old as the manor itself, it looks, as all rec rooms do, like it's stuck in the 1970s.

The room is dominated by a pool table.  Or maybe a billiards table, you were never really sure what the difference is.  An old television sits atop a little wooden stand in front of a comfy-looking easy chair. 

Doors lead south and east, and the north wall is covered entirely in built-in cabinets, whose glass doors lead, predictably, into their interiors.

The television continues to spew its infuriating idiot noise.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a Viking longboat. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

The television blares its annoying noise into every corner of the room.

>s

Gallery (YerrikTRB/Erica Newman)
A long and narrow room, with a satin wallcovering in rich, patterned green above the creamy wainscot paneling. The room is overcrowded with paintings and furniture. There are doors at either end of the gallery, leading north and west.

It's a godawful mess in here and it's entirely your fault. It looks like you've cleared the path through the room, and there may be nothing left to do but enjoy the paintings.

You can see a photograph here.

>w

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The night sky is dark and full of stars. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>n

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>n

Dining Room (Roberto Colnaghi)
A long, rectangular mahogany table takes up most of the room. The room is old and dusty, and it seems decades have passed since the last time someone had dinner here. On the table lies a broken machine, and a calendar is pinned on the wall. Doorways lead west, east, and south.

>e

Sitting Room (Buster Hudson)
The floorboards groan against your footsteps as you enter the dusty sitting room. Light struggles to penetrate the grimy bay window, hinting at the space around you. Various pieces of furniture are covered by moldy, moth-bitten sheets. The remains of a portrait hang above the fireplace. Leaning against a wall is a large mirror.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>save
Ok.

>w

Dining Room (Roberto Colnaghi)
A long, rectangular mahogany table takes up most of the room. The room is old and dusty, and it seems decades have passed since the last time someone had dinner here. On the table lies a broken machine, and a calendar is pinned on the wall. Doorways lead west, east, and south.

>s

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>s

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The night sky is dark and full of stars. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>s

Mudroom (Matt Weiner)
The porch is a mudroom, a place for taking off coats and muddy shoes. The marble front wall seems like a sheer cliff face, the porch like a flimsy shelter built onto it. The front door leads inside to the north.

In one corner of the porch a strangely shaped hook is fastened to the wall. A black cloak hangs beside it.

In the other corner of the porch is a small wooden table.

A slightly muddy welcome mat lies in front of the door.

>s

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

An insubstantial trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>x timetable
You can't see any such thing.

>x schedule
It's unlike any public transit schedule you've ever seen, in that there are no times listed. A cheerfully phrased block of introduction text instructs riders to hang their passes around their necks, proceed to a trolley stop, and WAIT FOR whatever color LINE corresponds with their choice of destination.

Destinations:
Brown Line -- Train Station
Gold Line -- Church
Blue Line -- Library Square
Aqua Line -- River Walk
Orange Line -- Constabulary Road
Green Line -- The Woods
Red Line -- Meatpacking Plant
Purple Line -- Cragne Manor
Lavender Line -- Cragne Manor Balcony
Eggplant Line -- Cragne Manor Attic
Black Line -- Underground


A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>wait for brown line
You lean against the driveway, hold out your pass, and wait for the brown line. Within moments, an ethereal trolley arrives. Instead of stopping and allowing you to board, it passes through you, and you find yourself transported to

Railway Platform (Naomi Hinchen)
The platform is open to the outdoors, but has an overhanging roof with a rusted sign hanging from it. At the back of the platform, to the south, is the entrance to the lobby. Train tracks stretch off into the distance to the east and west; on the other side of the track is a graffitied brick wall.

The clock overhead gives the time as 7:55 am; beneath the clock is a schedule board listing train arrival times. On the platform itself are a wooden bench, a storage locker, and a vending machine.

On the tracks is a mysterious silver box (empty).

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Brown Line -- Train Station.

>s

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
You look again at the dim and dingy surroundings. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the green door are to the east. The restroom door is to the west. Maybe you should try unlocking the green door.

>x cofee
You can't see any such thing.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a perfect fern, just like in a fancy latte. 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.

>* at last!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>unlock green door with slimy
Which do you mean, the slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>key
You unlock the green door.

>* yay!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>e
(first opening the green door)

Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
As you step into the room you breathe out deeply and relax your shoulders. You realise your body has felt constricted ever since you arrived in Backwater.

The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

>* no other hits on IFDB, but someone else with this name acted in a couple short films, which makes the perennial IFDB -> IMDB Google thing kinda useful!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x me
You've often thought of your body as a mere vessel to house your mind, an unfortunate necessity for living in this world. Perhaps that's why you were always drawn to Peter - like you he could get so absorbed in a book he would forget to eat or sleep. 

Since stepping into the office you've felt hyperaware of the clothes clinging to your body and your paper-thin skin covering your tendons and veins. The scar on your left leg from a football accident seems to throb, and the freckles along your arms remind you of all the sun damage you've willingly submitted to.

>* over 4,000 years that's a lot of sun damage!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>l
Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and proclaims, "The time is now six o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>smell
You smell nothing unexpected.

>x article
(framed newspaper article)
The article is dated 17th October 1995 and has a photo of a man and a woman in high-vis jackets smiling outside the entrance to the train station. The headline reads: SECURITY GUARD KILLED IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT: 

A security guard was killed yesterday after being run over by a train passing through Backwater train station. Bran Cragne, 34 (pictured with colleague Nadia) was patrolling the platform when he slipped and fell onto the tracks. His wife Barbara calls him a "kind and lovely husband" and his friends at the station say he will be sorely missed. 

 You skim the rest of the article, which just talks about his life and interests. It seems like an odd article to frame in an office, but you suppose it is in memory to a valued colleague.

>* A Cragne with a blue-collar job?  Who's described as nice?  Must have been adopted
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take article
Which do you mean, framed newspaper article, the piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew) or the charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>framed
That's hardly portable.

>x bran
You can't see any such thing.

>l
Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

>x window
A short but wide window frame that can't be opened. You see dark clouds loom over the hills in the distance: a storm must be coming. You can already imagine thunder striking a tree, branches exploding, piercing you as you walk past. Its probably best to stay protected indoors until it passes. 

In the top corners of the window there are tiny black specks.

>x specks
You look closer at the black specks in the corner. It looks like paper was stuck to it at some point, and has since been ripped away.

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>open window
There is no way to open the window. Probably for the best - you wouldn't want the fumes of the outside world swirling around in here.

>l
Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

>x chair
The studded green leather chair curves round a little to enclose whoever sits there. It looks far too fancy to be provided by station management; someone must have brought it here specially.

>look under chair
You find nothing of interest.

>look under article
(framed newspaper article)
You find nothing of interest.

>x monitors
Two grey CRT monitors are lined up on the desk. The first one is labelled "Monitor 1 - Platform 1" and the second is labelled "Monitor 2 - Platform 2". They both show a live feed from the train station.

>x monitor 1
You watch the screen for a few moments. The platform is empty; the only movement comes from a tree swaying from the wind on the other side of the track. 

Suddenly the shadow of a pole buckles for a few moments, warping itself into twisted, jagged lines. Then, like a spring, it returns to its normal form.

>x monitor 2
You watch for screen for a few moments. The way the camera is angled means you can see both the empty platform and through the window of the security office you're in. You watch yourself stretch. Strange. There must be a time delay, although you don't remember stretching.

>* weird
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>stretch
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* aww
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x desk
On top of the desk rests two monitors. There is also a telephone and various papers scattered on the surface.

>x telephone
An ugly beige telephone. The answer machine button is flashing.

You roll back your shoulders and stretch your arms. Your bones make a satisfying click.

>x papers
Which do you mean, scattered papers, the repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew), the charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew), the daily ledger or the yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>scattered
You can't see any such thing.

>x scattered papers
You can't see any such thing.

>put all papers in junk pocket
repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.

>close it
It isn't something you can close.

>x papers
Which do you mean, scattered papers, the charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew), the daily ledger, the yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew) or the repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>close junk pocket
You close the trash pocket.

>x papers
Which do you mean, scattered papers, the charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew) or the daily ledger?

>put charred in junk pocket
You can't see any such thing.

>put clippings in junk pocket
You pick them up.

You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the charred newspaper clippings (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.

>put ledger in junk pocket
You already have that.

>x papers
(the daily ledger)
This is a list of the day's arrestees. The date is a week old with no further entries beyond it. The entries are:
Jeff Moore - public intoxication.
Alana Cook - possession of cannabis.
Matthew Grobe - discharging a firearm within city limits.
Tony Overton - disorderly conduct.
Robert Morales - reckless driving.
Eugene Kunkle - petty theft.

>put ledger in junk pocket
You already have that.

>put leder in side pocket
You can't see any such thing.

>put ledger in side pocket
You already have that.

>i
You are carrying:
  a spray bottle of fungicide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Cyst (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Jessenia's receipt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ancient key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bag of peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pointer thingy (extended) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (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 (closed)
    a side pocket (closed)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>* something weird with this ledger
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w
As you walk out of the office you feel a wrenching sensation in your gut, as if some part of you is being dragged out, kicking and screaming. For a few moments everything looks like a threat: the slippery ground, the bending trees, the very air you breathe, carrying God only knows what kind of toxins.

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>drop ledger
You haven't got that.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>e

Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

>x ledger
This is a list of the day's arrestees. The date is a week old with no further entries beyond it. The entries are:
Jeff Moore - public intoxication.
Alana Cook - possession of cannabis.
Matthew Grobe - discharging a firearm within city limits.
Tony Overton - disorderly conduct.
Robert Morales - reckless driving.
Eugene Kunkle - petty theft.

>w
As you walk out of the office you feel a wrenching sensation in your gut, as if some part of you is being dragged out, kicking and screaming. For a few moments everything looks like a threat: the slippery ground, the bending trees, the very air you breathe, carrying God only knows what kind of toxins.

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>take ledger
You already have that.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>drop it
You haven't got that.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>* huh?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>drop ledger
You haven't got that.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>i
You are carrying:
  a spray bottle of fungicide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Cyst (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Jessenia's receipt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ancient key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bag of peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pointer thingy (extended) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (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 (closed)
    a side pocket (closed)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>open book pocket
You open the book pocket, revealing a slim hardback manual (smelling faintly of mildew), a pocket-sized notebook (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), The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew), a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew), a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), a faded delivery note (smelling faintly of mildew), Between God and Madness, by Hiram Strangecraft (smelling faintly of mildew), Reading the Sky, by Roberto Vasquez (smelling faintly of mildew), Tatooine 1: Anchorhead (smelling faintly of mildew), a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew), a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew), In Defense of Reason, by Scott Andersen (smelling faintly of mildew), Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew) and A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew).

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>take ledger
You already have that.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>drop ledger
You haven't got that.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>close book pocket
You close the book pocket.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>e

Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

>* well let's hope those papers aren't important
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>call 911
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>dial 911
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>pick up phone
That's hardly portable.

>x phone
An ugly beige telephone. The answer machine button is flashing.

>push button
Which do you mean, mp-telephone, the round button or the triangular button?

>mp-telephone
You press the answer machine button and listen to the message.

Nadia? It's mom. Pick up. Please. Look, I just wanted to invite you over for dinner... You've been doing so much overtime recently and I've barely seen you. You need to get out of the office sometime, it would be good for you. Well...Let me know, okay?

The telephone clicks.

>x shelves
The wooden shelves are filled with tapes, each labelled with the date as DD-MM-YY. There are too many to check each one.

>read article
(framed newspaper article)
The article is dated 17th October 1995 and has a photo of a man and a woman in high-vis jackets smiling outside the entrance to the train station. The headline reads: SECURITY GUARD KILLED IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT: 

A security guard was killed yesterday after being run over by a train passing through Backwater train station. Bran Cragne, 34 (pictured with colleague Nadia) was patrolling the platform when he slipped and fell onto the tracks. His wife Barbara calls him a "kind and lovely husband" and his friends at the station say he will be sorely missed. 

 You skim the rest of the article, which just talks about his life and interests. It seems like an odd article to frame in an office, but you suppose it is in memory to a valued colleague.

>take 17-10-95
Hm...When was the accident again?

>* Oh wait, is it actually MM-DD-YY?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>take 10-17-95
You can't see any such thing.

>x 17-10-95
Hm...When was the accident again?

>x 16-10-95
You find a VHS player by the monitors and press play.

 The security footage shows platform 2 - you can see the security office you are standing in as well, though the window is boarded up with black paper. As you watch, a man rips the paper down from the inside and presses his nose against the window. The image is a little fuzzy, but he looks like he's shaking. You watch as the man pulls forward monitor 1 and places something under it. He then wrenches open the door and stalks towards the platform.

For several minutes he just stands there, pacing the platform. A train approaches in the distance, and once it's a few meters away the man flings himself onto the tracks. Blood splatters the platform, and one of his shoes fly up into the air. The train brakes, but the damage is done.

For a few moments there is no movement on the screen, then a woman runs over to the bloodstain and tries to look under the train. Several other people arrive on the scene, but they just stand around and shake their heads.

>* oh duh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>look under monitor 1
You pull forward the monitor. There is a little nook behind it.

>x nook
A small hole not much bigger than your fist. It looks as if someone has chipped away part of the wall on purpose.

In the small nook are a tarnished brass key and a folded up note.

>x tarnished brass key
A tarnished brass key to the shack.

>take it
Taken.

>* I appreciate taking out the guesswork at this point
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x folded up note
A message is written in blue ink:

Barbara Ba Ba Ba you don't understand, you couldn't understand. The office is the only place I feel safe. It protects me against the sharp realities of the world and you and my superiors want to rip me from it. You don't understand how many deadly things there are out there. Now they want to remove me from my job, so I have no choice. It is better to go my own way than let some infection spread all over me or lie bleeding and abandoned. I wanted to destroy the key to the shack, but I couldn't. Just...Don't go there. Please. 

>* don't mind if I do!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take note
Which do you mean, a folded up note, the yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew), Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew), the note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew) or the book list (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>folded
You can't see any such thing.

>take folded up note
Taken.

>w
As you walk out of the office you feel a wrenching sensation in your gut, as if some part of you is being dragged out, kicking and screaming. For a few moments everything looks like a threat: the slippery ground, the bending trees, the very air you breathe, carrying God only knows what kind of toxins.

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>i
You are carrying:
  a folded up note
  a tarnished brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a spray bottle of fungicide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Cyst (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Jessenia's receipt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ancient key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bag of peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pointer thingy (extended) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (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 (closed)
    a side pocket (closed)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>       s

Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson)
To the north is the monumental windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine.

>* Shack next then let's call it, maybe
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>s
You pass over the bridge. The ravine has become a white river, teeming with creatures: you see a fin, a gill, a plaintive upturned face, before each is swept away.

Milkweed (Caleb Wilson)
It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track.

A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank.

A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed.

(That earworm is still lodged in your head.)

>s

Church Exterior (Andy Holloway)
The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station.

A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Gold Line -- Church.

>se
You can't go that way.

>s
You can't go that way.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and squawks, "The time is now five o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>e

Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti)
The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest.
Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank.

The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves.

>n

Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis)
A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.

You can see a notice board here.

A spectral trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.

>nw

Shack Exterior (Michael Lin)
A clearing, outside a wooden shack. A clockwork doll sits here, utterly incongruous at the edge of the woods.

The woods are to the northwest, while that godforsaken town is to the southeast.

>unlock shack with bras
Which do you mean, the Shack Door or the wooden shack.?

>door
You can't see any such thing.

>unlock shack with brass key
Which do you mean, a tarnished brass key (smelling faintly of mildew), the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>tarnished
(the Shack Door with a tarnished brass key (smelling faintly of mildew))
You unlock the Shack Door.

>in
(first opening the Shack Door)

Inside the Shack (Daniel Ravipinto)
The shadows pool in strange shapes along the earthen floor of the shack, the only light coming from the cracks in the surprisingly high ceiling and through the opened door. Piles of accumulated junk that Peter's family must have stored here over the decades lie against the inner walls, which have turned grey with either dust or the mere passage of time.

One of the shadows at the shack's far end moves, then separates into a distinct shape, slumped against a supporting pillar. There's something in here with you.

>* Oh man, Daniel Ravipinto -- co-author of Slouching Towards Bedlam, one of the all-time great
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>save
Ok.

>x me
There's no mirror, but you can't imagine you're looking your best by this point. How long have you been wandering this damnable place by now?

>* Couple months?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x ceiling
There seems to be nothing more to the place than what you can see - a junkpile for generations of Cragnes.

>* Oh, is this a Cragne Shack?  Kind of a schlep
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x shadows
It's definitely Peter, dressed as you last saw him, though his shoes seem to be missing. He looks awful. There's blood on his shirt and he looks like he's been crying. He doesn't seem to see you.

>* oh geez
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x junk
The junk ranges from the ancient to the recent, the obvious to the esoteric. And all of it quite useless.

>search junk
You can tell already that there's nothing useful to be found among the piles, nor nothing to be done with them.

>touch shadow
You suddenly realize there's something standing between you and Peter. It's as if the air itself has become solid. You press forward and encounter resistance, your hand sliding across its surface. Looking closer now, you can see - lines, drawings, figures? a language? - sliding beneath the surface of this...barrier. They move and shift as if alive. You press again, then smash a fist against it to no avail. Peter doesn't react at all. It's like he can't see or hear you.

>x barrier
There's something clearly there, stopping you from getting to Peter. It's not like you can really see it or anything, but weirdly, if the room weren't so quiet, you'd almost think you could hear it.

>listen
The silence you hear sounds unnatural, as though a tone were missing that ought to be present.

>i
You are carrying:
  a folded up note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tarnished brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a spray bottle of fungicide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Cyst (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Jessenia's receipt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ancient key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bag of peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pointer thingy (extended) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (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 (closed)
    a side pocket (closed)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a cold spot on your collarbone (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>* not a lot is jumping out
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>sing
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>hum
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>shout
(hello to the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew))
The piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) does not respond.

>shout at barrier
You can only do that to something animate.

>shout at peter
You can only do that to something animate.

>shout at shadow
You can only do that to something animate.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

Peter presses blindly against the barrier, pressing his forehead against the frozen air.

>* ah, blarg
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>save
Ok.

>* let's check where the next update will go
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Inside the Shack (Daniel Ravipinto)
The shadows pool in strange shapes along the earthen floor of the shack, the only light coming from the cracks in the surprisingly high ceiling and through the opened door. Piles of accumulated junk that Peter's family must have stored here over the decades lie against the inner walls, which have turned grey with either dust or the mere passage of time.

One of the shadows at the shack's far end moves, then separates into a distinct shape, slumped against a supporting pillar. There's something in here with you.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a roller blade. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>out 

Shack Exterior (Michael Lin)
A clearing, outside a wooden shack. A clockwork doll sits here, utterly incongruous at the edge of the woods.

The woods are to the northwest, while that godforsaken town is to the southeast.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>nw

The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell)
Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast.

The wind momentarily stirs up a pile of leaves.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>d
Go where? Into the pond? There is absolutely no freakin' way you're going anywhere near that water.

>n

The Old Well (Reed Lockwood)
The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south.

You can see a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here.

A noncorporeal trolley stop sign reads Green Line -- The Woods.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>d

Circular Room (JP)
You walk into a circular, high-ceilinged room made of roughly-shaped gray stones. This room really looks like a capped well, but its location in the building suggests otherwise.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>u

The Old Well (Reed Lockwood)
The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south.

You can see a polyphonic ungulate, a perfumed land octopus, a murmuring mound and a wooden sigil here.

An insubstantial trolley stop sign reads Green Line -- The Woods.

>s

The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell)
Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast.

>sw

The Churchyard (David Jose)
A neglected and long forgotten cemetery stretches out below you, surrounded by a rusted wrought iron fence. Lopsided gravemarkers, slowly succumbing to the elements, topple downhill like a congregation bent low in prayer. At the very center of the graveyard, set into a low valley, a squat, stone mausoleum crouches menacingly.

To the southwest a dilapidated, stave church rises up obscenely against the night sky.

A dark pine forest crowds against the wrought iron fence to the northeast. You might be able to forge a path between its trees.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>in

Mausoleum (Gary Butterfield)
Despite the presence of the mirrors in the corner, the room feels claustrophobic. You'd really like to get out of here.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>out

The Churchyard (David Jose)
A neglected and long forgotten cemetery stretches out below you, surrounded by a rusted wrought iron fence. Lopsided gravemarkers, slowly succumbing to the elements, topple downhill like a congregation bent low in prayer. At the very center of the graveyard, set into a low valley, a squat, stone mausoleum crouches menacingly.

To the southwest a dilapidated, stave church rises up obscenely against the night sky.

A dark pine forest crowds against the wrought iron fence to the northeast. You might be able to forge a path between its trees.

>sw

Church Exterior (Andy Holloway)
The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station.

A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Gold Line -- Church.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>n

Milkweed (Caleb Wilson)
It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track.

A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank.

A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed.

(That earworm is still lodged in your head.)

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>n

Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson)
To the north is the vast windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>n

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

There is no more to be done here, time to move on.

>w

Train Station Restroom (David Petrocco)
A harshly lit pay restroom. Dust and grime mar the once white tiles and marble of the facilities: A small shower stall with the curtain open, a bathroom stall with a single dirty toilet (there are mounts for a door, but it is nowhere to be seen), a small storage closet for janitorial supplies, a four by four row of small lockers, and an extremely dirty dual basin sink.

The train station is EAST.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>e

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>n

Railway Platform (Naomi Hinchen)
The platform is open to the outdoors, but has an overhanging roof with a rusted sign hanging from it. At the back of the platform, to the south, is the entrance to the lobby. Train tracks stretch off into the distance to the east and west; on the other side of the track is a graffitied brick wall.

The clock overhead gives the time as 9:47 am; beneath the clock is a schedule board listing train arrival times. On the platform itself are a wooden bench, a storage locker, and a vending machine.

On the tracks is a mysterious silver box (empty).

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Brown Line -- Train Station.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>s

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>e

Station Security Room (Monique Padelis)
The compact room smells earthy, as if you've stepped into a forest just after the dew has settled. A framed article hangs on the moss green walls alongside a window that lets in a little light. Your eyes are drawn to the two glowing CRT monitors on a desk that runs the length of the east wall. A leather chair sits in front of the desk and most of the south wall is taken up by shelves with labelled VHS tapes. The door to the station is to your west.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>w
As you walk out of the office you feel a wrenching sensation in your gut, as if some part of you is being dragged out, kicking and screaming. For a few moments everything looks like a threat: the slippery ground, the bending trees, the very air you breathe, carrying God only knows what kind of toxins.

Train Station Lobby (Shin)
The dim and dingy surroundings hold no more interest for you. The platform is to the north. The dirty, cobweb-covered windows and the station exit are to the south. The large mirror and the door to the station office are to the east. The restroom door is to the west.

>s

Exterior of Train Station (Emily Short with additions from Graham Nelson)
To the north is the vast windowless bulk of the train station. Perhaps that is unsurprising, given the rest of the town. A metal trash can squats beneath its carved facade. The town itself is downhill, on the other side of a ravine.

>s
You pass over the bridge. The ravine has become a white river, teeming with creatures: you see a fin, a gill, a plaintive upturned face, before each is swept away.

Milkweed (Caleb Wilson)
It is possible to feel claustrophobia out of doors. Sunlight fills the sky but somehow doesn't reach you here. Steep banks of bramble rise to the east and west, trapping you within a gloomy trough a dozen yards wide. A poorly-surfaced road leads north and south along the trough's nadir. Just west of it, camouflaged with rust, is the train track.

A tremendous patch of milkweed, the stems abnormally thick and tall, grows on the east side of the road beneath the thorn bank.

A green stone altar, once at the center of the shack, stands amidst broken boards and milkweed.

(That earworm is still lodged in your head.)

>s

Church Exterior (Andy Holloway)
The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station.

A phantom trolley stop sign reads Gold Line -- Church.

>in

Narthex (Hanon Ondricek)
The narthex extends the width of the church. Despite the gloominess, it's not that unwelcoming except for the eye-watering pattern of industrial linoleum floor tiles. They checkerboard underfoot in grayish green and grayish white squares with dark speckles, stopping only at the margin marked by a wall border at waist level.

The chapel proper opens to the west and a set of double doors leads out of the building.

Two side by side openings lead in to restrooms.

A collection of framed photos is arranged on one wall, and a woodstained ladder bolted nearby leads up through a square opening in the ceiling.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>u
You mount the ladder, making sure your feet catch each rung, and climb to the ceiling don't look down! through the square opening...

Steeple (Michael D. Hilborn)
Disjointed and decaying pillars of wood form the arches that make up the walls of the church's steeple. The arches, open to the sky, tower over you, ending in a webwork of thick rafters which support the belfry above and ultimately the church's spire. A series of ropes slither down from those rafters, centered over a square hole in the floor that leads down into the bowels of the church.

A misshapen mass slumps in one corner of the steeple.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>d

Narthex (Hanon Ondricek)
The narthex extends the width of the church. Despite the gloominess, it's not that unwelcoming except for the eye-watering pattern of industrial linoleum floor tiles. They checkerboard underfoot in grayish green and grayish white squares with dark speckles, stopping only at the margin marked by a wall border at waist level.

The chapel proper opens to the west and a set of double doors leads out of the building.

Two side by side openings lead in to restrooms.

A collection of framed photos is arranged on one wall, and a woodstained ladder bolted nearby leads up through a square opening in the ceiling.

>in

Women's Restroom
The women's restroom is tidy as church facilities go. There is only one way out, unless you count the bathroom stall door reflected in the mirror above the sink.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and announces, "The time is now four o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a Viking longboat. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>out

Narthex (Hanon Ondricek)
The narthex extends the width of the church. Despite the gloominess, it's not that unwelcoming except for the eye-watering pattern of industrial linoleum floor tiles. They checkerboard underfoot in grayish green and grayish white squares with dark speckles, stopping only at the margin marked by a wall border at waist level.

The chapel proper opens to the west and a set of double doors leads out of the building.

Two side by side openings lead in to restrooms.

A collection of framed photos is arranged on one wall, and a woodstained ladder bolted nearby leads up through a square opening in the ceiling.

>w

Chapel (s. hammack) [Score: 1]
You are in the main worship area of the church. Whom or what this chapel is used to worship is not immediately apparent. The accommodations are fairly modest: several rows of pews face toward the west end of the room, where a pulpit stands in front of an altar. In the corner of the room is a cheap-looking electric organ. The one lavish decoration is an elaborate stained glass window taking up most of the wall behind the altar.

The vestibule is to the east. On the southern wall is a wooden door, which is open.

On the altar are a collection plate (empty) and a lockbox (empty).

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>s

Church Office (Llew Mason)
The church office is a tiny windowless room. Stark whitewashed brick walls close in on all sides beneath a low vaulted ceiling. There is something fundamentally wrong with the architecture in here. Lines that should be parallel or perpendicular seem ever so slightly off, making you feel distinctly uneasy.

An enormous desk overflowing with stacked papers takes up most of one side of the room. Stairs lead down, and the church itself is accessible through the door at the north end of the room.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>d

Church Basement (Sean M. Shore)
A small wall-mounted sodium lamp bathes this area in a sickly yellow light, and produces a faint buzz that reverberates off the close, mildewed walls.  This is an unfinished, spidery basement, damp and dank and one might even say disused, but on further inspection, that may not be the case.  Some obviously dangerous wooden stairs ascend grudgingly, and an opening in the floor gives way to the tunnel below.

In one corner is a huge Panasonic TV/VCR combo, probably from about five years ago.  Next to it is a stack of VHS tapes.  Some discarded clothes litter the floor.

You can also see tape 8, a power cord and a mannequin here.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>d

Tunnel Entrance (Grueslayer)
The ladder leading down the funnel ends here at a brick wall with one or two interesting features. Only a little light shines through the funnel and bathes the surroundings in eerie shadows. The ground seems to be made up of treaded down dirt. A masoned, semi-circular tunnel leads southeast, the walls made up from the same musty red bricks as the wall marking its end. The tunnel is about six feet high. Rolled up on the ground in the southwestern corner is a hobo who declared this tunnel his bedroom.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>se

Subterranean tunnel (Drew M)
Your light reflects off the cold, shin-deep water. Tiny shadows jump and skitter away from you, making it hard to tell where the walls end and the wildlife begins.  The tunnel continues off to the northwest. To the east lies a door. The way back to the surface lies above. To the north, the stones have recessed to form an alcove a few feet deep.

A weird woman waves and watches you wantonly from the wall.

"Psst! Over here! Yoohooo?"

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

"Hey, you! C'mere! Can you hear?"

>e

Narrow Straits (Mathbrush)
You find yourself in a dark, narrow space between two stone walls. Moisture condenses from the ceiling and drips down the stone bricks to the floor. Doors are east and west.

A foul sarcophagus occupies almost all of the space, leaving you cramped against the walls.

>x cofeee
You can't see that. Or can you? The smell is getting to you.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>e

Amorphous Tunnel (Bill Maya)
This tunnel bends to the northeast. The walls shimmer slightly, gently undulating in the spectral darkness. To the west, set into the wall, almost invisible in the mortal dimness, is an antediluvian door. Daylight and a slight breeze wafts down some non-euclidean steps that lead up.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>w

Narrow Straits (Mathbrush)
You find yourself in a dark, narrow space between two stone walls. Moisture condenses from the ceiling and drips down the stone bricks to the floor. Doors are east and west.

A foul sarcophagus occupies almost all of the space, leaving you cramped against the walls.

>w

Subterranean tunnel (Drew M)
Your light reflects off the cold, shin-deep water. Tiny shadows jump and skitter away from you, making it hard to tell where the walls end and the wildlife begins.  The tunnel continues off to the northwest. To the east lies a door. The way back to the surface lies above. To the north, the stones have recessed to form an alcove a few feet deep.

A weird woman waves and watches you wantonly from the wall.

"Hey, you! I'm waiting!  Hellooooo?"

>u
Taking a deep breath, you grasp the ladder for support and hook your leg up to the first available step. The metal creeks and groans alarmingly as you transfer your weight, but the bolts hold firm. You shakily gather yourself and begin to ascend back up to the surface.

Under the Bridge (Tenth)
The path along the river gives way to a crumbling stone embankment as it passes below the arch of the old stone bridge. A rusty metal hatch is set into the ground opposite from the river, and towards the end of the embankment, a derelict payphone squats, forgotten, under the shadow of the bridge. To the south, the path continues to follow the river.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>s

River Walk (Adam Whybray)
A dirt path along the west bank of the Makaskuta - or Blackgourd - River. The air is motionless and sweltry, the urticariate heat drawing sweat profusely from your prickling glands.

Just below you, to your side, the river burbles in vainglorious stupor, foaming in bright patches from the surfacants released from the rotting deposits of the red maples and poplars that line its banks. A single black ash, denuded of leaves, its corky bark blighted with the telltale signs of parasitic infection, quietly interrupts the Autumnal foliage of its deciduous cousins. 

The river's waters slith over rocks as lustrous-gray as seal skin, rending them freshly burnished for the mid-September sun, which casts Her rays in refulgent slats through the rust-honey colored trees. It is though Nature, in celebration of Her own fecundity, has chosen to offer Herself up in Equinoxical sacrifice - the rocks laid out before the blazing altar of the sun.

There is a forbidding sign on the bank of the river.

The way up to Backwater town square is northwest. Following the path north leads under the bridge.

On the Makaskuta river is a buoy.

You can also see a freshwater lobster trap (in which is an eggbound crawfish) and a shattered crawfish here.

A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Aqua Line -- River Walk.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>nw

Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti)
The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest.
Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank.

The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>sw
Your reading glasses frost over at the edges. You feel a sharp pain from the cold spot on your shoulder, and feel like there's a library book you--or Emmett, perhaps--hasn't read yet from this location.

Drinking Fountain (Lucian Smith)
A public drinking fountain is placed in a nook here, nearly overgrown with ivy.  You can return to the town square to the northeast.

A ragged hole graces the side of the brick fountain.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form an airplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>* Oh, good to know!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x hole
A ragged hole gapes ominously in the side of the fountain where the secondary fountain used to be.

In the ragged hole is Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition).

>take personalities
Taken.

>read it
You flip through the book, looking at various of write-ups and pictures of men and women in 1920's garb until, with a start, you recognize the well-dressed ghost, staring at you intently from the page.  You read his entry:

Emmett Josey - Backwater Librarian
Everyone should recognize our "darkly beloved" town librarian, always ready with a smile and a book suggestion for all who walk in his doors, especially those of our younger generation.  What you may not know is that his family has been here for six generations, which is pretty unusual for someone like him!  Even more amazingly, Mr. Josey is a college graduate--as were his father, and his father's father!  So don't be surprised when you go into our beloved library and see this face: he's an institution just as much as the building is!

There's a clipped newspaper article tucked inside the book at that page, which you remove.

A sigh echoes in your head. "That's all of them," a voice breathes.  "And that's about all I can do.  I wish you luck.  Find your husband, even though he's another Cragne.  And beware the Vaadigniphod."  With that, the voice fades away.  After a second or two, you realize that your shoulder has warmed up again.  You rub the spot absently, almost missing the cold.

>* aww, I do miss the cold
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Thanks Emmett!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x clipped
LIBRARIAN DIES IN ALTERCATION IN TOWN SQUARE.

>* blarg
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>ne

Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti)
The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest.
Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank.

The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>n

Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis)
A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.

You can see a notice board here.

An ethereal trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>w

Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna)
The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east.

Bethany looks at you expectantly. "Any buildings in town you're curious about?"

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>e

Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis)
A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.

You can see a notice board here.

A spectral trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.

>e

Backwater Public Library (Carl Muckenhoupt)
This is unusually spacious for a small-town library. You think you remember something about it being a national historical site? That would explain the decor, at least. It's half rustic colonial, half modern budget-strapped public service, with a meager collection of creaky shelves standing in the middle of an old plank floor. A small display case stands prominently near the entrance, and some weird chairs are scattered around for the comfort of the patrons, none of whom are here at the moment. The sole exit is back to the west.

On the cart are De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), a pink-bound book (smelling faintly of mildew), a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids (smelling faintly of mildew), The Seven Gaunts (smelling faintly of mildew), Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley (smelling faintly of mildew), Buried Tales of Old Vermont (smelling faintly of mildew), The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew), an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a book New England and the Bavarian Illuminati (smelling faintly of mildew), Tolerating An Asinine God, Twin Hearts Between the Planes, The Dollmaker's Journal and a shabby journal.

A librarian stands behind a counter.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>* Hmm, thought I had them all?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>w

Outside the Library (Gavin Inglis)
A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.

You can see a notice board here.

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.

>s

Town square, Backwater, VT (Marco Innocenti)
The large, hexagonal-shaped square is paved with big, white stones, polished by rain and wind over the decades; around it, low red-brick buildings look like watching peasants. One single street leaves the square to the north, while less accommodating paths lead west, in the direction of a towering church, and southwest.
Due east, an iron bridge crosses the river, and southeast, a walkway leads down to its bank.

The swollen, slate-colored clouds that blanket the sky are reflected in the shiny, circular shape embellishing the center of the square, muttering ominous portents amongst themselves.

>e
Your feet finally touch down on some blackened shore and into some large subterrane. The slick black stone of the cavern arcs high above your head with strange formations that grow downwards and then out in oddly perpendicular angles. The damp rock moves in and out of focus as some pulsing green light illuminates the space.

Taking a step, you feel the sand pulling at your shoes as though it were thick mud or quicksand. Your feet sink with every step, settling on some solid stone platform just beneath this layer of cloying sand that prevents you from being entirely swallowed.

You pass between two monolithic pillars: oily green-black stone of a height that makes you dizzy to comprehend. Between them, a skeletal bridge stretches out across the chasm.

The crossing spans a ravine of tumultuous water that roars like some uncaged beast and echoes around the cavern. Its Stygian call chills you and draws you in by equal measures as you take the first step onto the slats that form the bridge.

Bridge (Daniel Stelzer and Jemma Briggeman)
You are standing on a bridge spanning east to west in the middle of an echoing cavern. In the center of the bridge is a large profane sculpture constructed of pipes that climb up to a cauldron filled with an eerily glowing green moss, the only light source in the room. Beneath your feet you can hear the crashing of the river below. Ahead of you, to your horror, there are slats missing on the bridge - you'll never make it across without replacing them.


On the gap in the bridge are some flat bones.

The rope lies abandoned on the ground in a tangle, one end tied to the bridge, the other to some metallic contraption.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>e

Outside Pub (Jason Lautzenheiser)
As the street runs east through this side of town, it narrows as the jagged rooftops on either side of the road reach out to each other. To the north is the pub. You can continue to the west where you see a bridge. As you pause on the narrow brick sidewalk which lays unevenly along the ugly, half-crumbling brick walls, you hear a train whistle in the distance. A sign hangs loosely above the pub entrance and to the side is a murky window. 

You can see a newspaper box here.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>in

The Invisible Worm (Sam Kabo Ashwell)
A dimly-lit tavern, old enough that all its straight lines have worn or warped slightly out of shape, and everything feels cluttered and a little too small; you've had apartments with living-rooms bigger than this. Heavy, dark beams support a low ceiling, and the walls are crowded with ancient farm tools and yellowing photographs. A cramped doorway, south, leads back outside.

The bartender impassively surveys the room.

Old-timers monopolize the fireplace nook; a straggle of teenagers hunch in a corner.

The old-timers squabble over how time-consuming it is to prepare an Ancestor Sandwich properly.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

The old-timers argue about Sabbath Sutton's second son's futile campaign for the state senate. You get the sense that this is a regular subject.

>s

Outside Pub (Jason Lautzenheiser)
As the street runs east through this side of town, it narrows as the jagged rooftops on either side of the road reach out to each other. To the north is the pub. You can continue to the west where you see a bridge. As you pause on the narrow brick sidewalk which lays unevenly along the ugly, half-crumbling brick walls, you hear a train whistle in the distance. A sign hangs loosely above the pub entrance and to the side is a murky window. 

You can see a newspaper box here.

>e

Constabulary Road (Harkness Munt)
The road phases into little more than a wide dirt track winding from the west towards the edge of town to the northeast.  A paved walk wanders through an iron gate which interrupts a high stone wall looming to the north. A memorial bench sits just outside its shadow. A thickly-woven rampart of vegetation obstructs passage to the south, but you notice a narrow deer trail cutting a path through the deep woods.

A barricade spans the road to the northeast, and beyond it a large shallow pit is being excavated. If you're careful, you could skirt the edges of the pit and continue along the northeast road.

A spectral trolley stop sign reads Orange Line -- Constabulary Road.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>n

Backwater Jail (Marshal Tenner Winter)
The air is stale in this wood-paneled sheriff's office. You feel as if you've stepped back in time maybe twenty years as the office furnishings in here are simple and utilitarian. A desk, generic in style but wide enough for an outdated-looking computer, is near the window. A swivel chair is behind it and a wooden visitors chair is on the other side. Despite the meager light that creeps in the window, there's still a bleak glow from fluorescent bulbs overhead. Other furnishings include a file cabinet and, what appears to be, a locker that was literally ripped out of a high school and placed against the wall in here.

Otherwise, a cheap door with a unisex bathroom sign on it is to the west and a secure door, obviously the lock-up, is to the north. The exit is south.

You can see a desiccated corpse here.

On the generic desk is the Kunkle file (empty).

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>in
You can't go that way.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>out
You can't go that way.

>s

Constabulary Road (Harkness Munt)
The road phases into little more than a wide dirt track winding from the west towards the edge of town to the northeast.  A paved walk wanders through an iron gate which interrupts a high stone wall looming to the north. A memorial bench sits just outside its shadow. A thickly-woven rampart of vegetation obstructs passage to the south, but you notice a narrow deer trail cutting a path through the deep woods.

A barricade spans the road to the northeast, and beyond it a large shallow pit is being excavated. If you're careful, you could skirt the edges of the pit and continue along the northeast road.

An ethereal trolley stop sign reads Orange Line -- Constabulary Road.

>s

Courtyard (Finn Rosenloev)
As you walk cross the square courtyard, you are repeatedly twisting your legs, and you cannot help but wonder how many broken legs these cobblestones have caused over time.

A beautifully decorated well built by blocks of granite dominates the courtyard. Opposite it, to the east, is the entrance to the curiosity store.

To the north, a secret passage is hidden in the niche near the barred gate. Not too far from the well is the way down to the tunnel.

Above you, two guard towers rise majestically on either side of the drawbridge, and a parapet connects them so that soldiers of those days were able to quickly move from one side to the other.

You can't help but feel that the castle is watching you with expressionless eyes through the empty windows.

>ne
You can't go that way.

>s
You can't go that way.

>undo
Courtyard (Finn Rosenloev)
[Previous turn undone.]

>undo
Courtyard (Finn Rosenloev)
[Previous turn undone.]

>undo
Constabulary Road (Harkness Munt)
[Previous turn undone.]

>ne

Hillside Path (Jack Welch)
You are in a hillside hollow flanked on three sides by sheer granite cliffs and on the other by gnarled vegetation.

Three trailheads hold out some chance of respite: north, southwest, and southeast.

You can see a stone altar here.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>n

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and proclaims, "The time is now three o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>nw

Outside the greenhouse (James Eagle)
The damp brick path that led you here bends around the squat porch of an old greenhouse half-swallowed by a tangle of bramble and ivy. Water drips from the thick branches overhead; in the undergrowth something - somethings? - creep and rustle.

The path curves away to northeast and southeast. You can also go in to the greenhouse from here.

>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.

>in

Greenhouse (Petter Sjölund)
Nothing should be growing here anymore ? the heating and irrigation have been off for years ? but roots seem to have covered everything.

The walls curve inward, forming a huge dome, with a mesh of roots covering it from the floor up to about halfway to the ceiling. Sunlight still breaks through in places, throwing a pattern of bright spots across the room. The roots grow from an enormous tropical tree at the center of the greenhouse, towering all the way up to the ceiling, which it hides behind a thick crown of leaves.

A spiral staircase, seemingly woven of roots, leads to a circular mesh walkway higher up along the wall.

The parrot sculpture protrudes from the roots near the exit.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a skateboard. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>out

Outside the greenhouse (James Eagle)
The damp brick path that led you here bends around the squat porch of an old greenhouse half-swallowed by a tangle of bramble and ivy. Water drips from the thick branches overhead; in the undergrowth something - somethings? - creep and rustle.

The path curves away to northeast and southeast. You can also go in to the greenhouse from here.

>ne

The Cragne Manor's Back Garden (Austin Auclair)
Vines splay across the landscape, every direction they shoot, seemingly racing to the tops of trees to pull them down. The vines wind up and around every structure, overrunning them with sheer, sinister mass. The vines grow in hypnotic tracks across the yard, almost to suggest that they were woven, braided, and arranged with care. It's both unnerving and unusually pretty. If there are windows or a door on the back of the manor house they're utterly smothered by the vines that clamber up the wall and onto the roof, and nothing less than a chainsaw could crack open that tomb.

In the center of the yard is a large marble fountain adorned with a chubby cherub. On the left side of the garden is the birdbath that you knocked over. To the left of the fallen birdbath is the outline of a once-hidden pond and a flat stone stuck in the ground where the birdbath used to stand. Near the rear, southeast corner of the garden is a large garden shed with an adjoining shelf of supplies.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>in
You open the door further to allow you to pass through. You go inside the garden shed.

The Shambolic Shack (Michael Fessler)
A dimly-lit shack with crude plywood walls. An octagonal window set high on one wall admits a feeble shaft of moonlight. Rickety wire shelving sits precariously in one dimly lit corner, and a battered metal wheelbarrow rests in the opposite corner. A rough doorway leads back out.

You can see a fungus-ridden centipede carcass here.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>out

The Cragne Manor's Back Garden (Austin Auclair)
Vines splay across the landscape, every direction they shoot, seemingly racing to the tops of trees to pull them down. The vines wind up and around every structure, overrunning them with sheer, sinister mass. The vines grow in hypnotic tracks across the yard, almost to suggest that they were woven, braided, and arranged with care. It's both unnerving and unusually pretty. If there are windows or a door on the back of the manor house they're utterly smothered by the vines that clamber up the wall and onto the roof, and nothing less than a chainsaw could crack open that tomb.

In the center of the yard is a large marble fountain adorned with a chubby cherub. On the left side of the garden is the birdbath that you knocked over. To the left of the fallen birdbath is the outline of a once-hidden pond and a flat stone stuck in the ground where the birdbath used to stand. Near the rear, southeast corner of the garden is a large garden shed with an adjoining shelf of supplies.

>se

Cragne Family Plot (Mark Britton)
A cramped and neglected place on unwholesome yellow soil. Over the years the gravestones have shifted like teeth in an overcrowded mouth, collapsing one atop the other. Crabgrass pokes up limply between them, urine-yellow and parched-looking. The earth mounds up around the shabby crypt, as if it's sunk over the years into the Vermont topsoil. You wonder who would want to be buried here--and who would willingly consign their ancestors to this brutal place. Perhaps that's why it's been so neglected. 

Four squat columbariums stand north, east, south, and west of here. A winding and uncertain path leads southwest. By stepping over collapsed gravestones and bleached obelisks you can go northwest. Carefully. You could also enter the crypt from here, if you were able to open it.

Three graves nearby draw your eye. One headstone teeters drunkenly, half overrun by lichen. One headstone has collapsed entirely. An adjacent plot stands open, overlooked by a blank headstone. The grave within is flooded almost to the top with bubbling rainwater.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>in

Family Crypt (Justin Melvin)
You are in a long-neglected, dusty, and surprisingly cold crypt, about the size of a garage. The walls are covered with a dark mold creeping from the floor, and the whole place smells unsettlingly like cured meat and leather. There are numerous plaques on the floor, and it is difficult to navigate the room without stepping on one of them. Your eyes are drawn to the only other object in the room: a large ornately decorated stone coffin. The only exit is the door you came in through leading back outside.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>out

Cragne Family Plot (Mark Britton)
A cramped and neglected place on unwholesome yellow soil. Over the years the gravestones have shifted like teeth in an overcrowded mouth, collapsing one atop the other. Crabgrass pokes up limply between them, urine-yellow and parched-looking. The earth mounds up around the shabby crypt, as if it's sunk over the years into the Vermont topsoil. You wonder who would want to be buried here--and who would willingly consign their ancestors to this brutal place. Perhaps that's why it's been so neglected. 

Four squat columbariums stand north, east, south, and west of here. A winding and uncertain path leads southwest. By stepping over collapsed gravestones and bleached obelisks you can go northwest. Carefully. You could also enter the crypt from here, if you were able to open it.

Three graves nearby draw your eye. One headstone teeters drunkenly, half overrun by lichen. One headstone has collapsed entirely. An adjacent plot stands open, overlooked by a blank headstone. The grave within is flooded almost to the top with bubbling rainwater.

>sw

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

An insubstantial trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>s

Hillside Path (Jack Welch)
You are in a hillside hollow flanked on three sides by sheer granite cliffs and on the other by gnarled vegetation.

Three trailheads hold out some chance of respite: north, southwest, and southeast.

You can see a stone altar here.

>se

Outside the Plant (Chandler Groover)
Smoke pours into a bruised sky, rising from chimneys that crowd the Cragne Meatpacking Plant. Its bricks are soot-stained, its stenciled walls weathered by acid rain.

A hole is smashed into its side.

To the northwest, a hill begins to climb toward Cragne Manor.

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Red Line -- Meatpacking Plant.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>in

The meatpacking plant (Kenneth Pedersen)
You are standing in the center of the main room of the meatpacking plant. An open doorway leads west from this huge room to somewhere darker, while some rickety stairs lead up.  A long row of meat hooks are hanging from the ceiling parallel to a bloodstained table. It is not too late to leave yet, by going out the front door.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a roller blade. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>u

Dusty office (Matthew Korson)
This must be the boss's office. A large window overlooks the factory floor. Some shards around the edge suggest that it contained glass once. Pushed against one wall is a small table that might have served as a desk, and next to it stands a metal filing cabinet. Anonymous detritus is scattered at the edges of the room.

Dust hangs so thickly in the air that you can hardly see to the other side of the room. You wheeze and choke every time you take a breath.

You can see a diagram scratched into the floor here.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>d
You quickly climb down the stairs.

The meatpacking plant (Kenneth Pedersen)
You are standing in the center of the main room of the meatpacking plant. An open doorway leads west from this huge room to somewhere darker, while some rickety stairs lead up.  A long row of meat hooks are hanging from the ceiling parallel to a bloodstained table. It is not too late to leave yet, by going out the front door.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a dromedary camel. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>w

Wrecked Bathroom of the Meatpacking Plant  (Chris Jones)
This is a perfectly normal bathroom. There is a metal grab bar on the wall where the stall used to be. There is bare floor where the toilet used to be. There are empty spaces on the wall where the fixtures like the sink used to be. There is a horse-shaped hole in one wall.

Perfectly. Normal. Bathroom.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>e

The meatpacking plant (Kenneth Pedersen)
You are standing in the center of the main room of the meatpacking plant. An open doorway leads west from this huge room to somewhere darker, while some rickety stairs lead up.  A long row of meat hooks are hanging from the ceiling parallel to a bloodstained table. It is not too late to leave yet, by going out the front door.

>out

Outside the Plant (Chandler Groover)
Smoke pours into a bruised sky, rising from chimneys that crowd the Cragne Meatpacking Plant. Its bricks are soot-stained, its stenciled walls weathered by acid rain.

A hole is smashed into its side.

To the northwest, a hill begins to climb toward Cragne Manor.

A noncorporeal trolley stop sign reads Red Line -- Meatpacking Plant.

>nw

Hillside Path (Jack Welch)
You are in a hillside hollow flanked on three sides by sheer granite cliffs and on the other by gnarled vegetation.

Three trailheads hold out some chance of respite: north, southwest, and southeast.

You can see a stone altar here.

>n

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

A spectral trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>in
You climb the steps to the porch.

Mudroom (Matt Weiner)
The porch is a mudroom, a place for taking off coats and muddy shoes. The marble front wall seems like a sheer cliff face, the porch like a flimsy shelter built onto it. The front door leads inside to the north.

In one corner of the porch a strangely shaped hook is fastened to the wall. A black cloak hangs beside it.

In the other corner of the porch is a small wooden table.

A slightly muddy welcome mat lies in front of the door.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>in

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The night sky is dark and full of stars. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form concentric circles. 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.

>w

Court (Ryan Veeder)
Walls paneled with elaborate boiseries curl slowly around this ovular hall. The western vertex of the ellipse is dominated by an enormous window; at the opposite end, a low archway leads east to the foyer. A glass display case is set into the north wall.

In the center of the room, an irregular circle of twelve pedestals surrounds a black monolith.

On the xanthic pedestal is a figurine of a peregrine falcon.

>x coffee
The contents of your coffee cup shock you so much that you almost drop it. Instead of organic liquid curves and swirls, the cream forms a weblike pattern of jagged geometric lines that radiate out from the center at irregular intervals like bolts of lightning.

According to the book you read, images like this occur when your fate depends on so many separate actions and courses of destiny that it can no longer be adequately divined by a leftover cup of now-cold muck water.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>e

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The night sky is dark and full of stars. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>e

Gallery (YerrikTRB/Erica Newman)
A long and narrow room, with a satin wallcovering in rich, patterned green above the creamy wainscot paneling. The room is overcrowded with paintings and furniture. There are doors at either end of the gallery, leading north and west.

It's a godawful mess in here and it's entirely your fault. It looks like you've cleared the path through the room, and there may be nothing left to do but enjoy the paintings.

You can see a photograph here.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>n

Rec Room (Zack Johnson)
The manor's rec room is short for the manor's recreation room.  Even though it's as old as the manor itself, it looks, as all rec rooms do, like it's stuck in the 1970s.

The room is dominated by a pool table.  Or maybe a billiards table, you were never really sure what the difference is.  An old television sits atop a little wooden stand in front of a comfy-looking easy chair. 

Doors lead south and east, and the north wall is covered entirely in built-in cabinets, whose glass doors lead, predictably, into their interiors.

The noise from the television continues to be unbearable.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a roller blade. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

The shrieking of the television is like knives in your eardrums.

>e

The Music Room (Wade Clarke)
You are in a large modern studio space, not unlike a concert hall but without any seating. Dark, golden-hued wooden paneling lines the floor and walls, imbuing the area with an intimate atmosphere in spite of its size. The walls curve inwards in a carefully designed asymmetrical fashion (some kind of acoustic treatment?) and electric-bulbed faux chandeliers fill the place with ruddy light. 

A doorway leads out of the music room to the west. 

Standing against the center of the eastern wall, facing you, is a mahogany podium with four push-buttons on it.

>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.

>w

Rec Room (Zack Johnson)
The manor's rec room is short for the manor's recreation room.  Even though it's as old as the manor itself, it looks, as all rec rooms do, like it's stuck in the 1970s.

The room is dominated by a pool table.  Or maybe a billiards table, you were never really sure what the difference is.  An old television sits atop a little wooden stand in front of a comfy-looking easy chair. 

Doors lead south and east, and the north wall is covered entirely in built-in cabinets, whose glass doors lead, predictably, into their interiors.

The television continues blaring.

>s

Gallery (YerrikTRB/Erica Newman)
A long and narrow room, with a satin wallcovering in rich, patterned green above the creamy wainscot paneling. The room is overcrowded with paintings and furniture. There are doors at either end of the gallery, leading north and west.

It's a godawful mess in here and it's entirely your fault. It looks like you've cleared the path through the room, and there may be nothing left to do but enjoy the paintings.

You can see a photograph here.

>w

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The night sky is dark and full of stars. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>n

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>n

Dining Room (Roberto Colnaghi)
A long, rectangular mahogany table takes up most of the room. The room is old and dusty, and it seems decades have passed since the last time someone had dinner here. On the table lies a broken machine, and a calendar is pinned on the wall. Doorways lead west, east, and south.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>e

Sitting Room (Buster Hudson)
The floorboards groan against your footsteps as you enter the dusty sitting room. Light struggles to penetrate the grimy bay window, hinting at the space around you. Various pieces of furniture are covered by moldy, moth-bitten sheets. The remains of a portrait hang above the fireplace. Leaning against a wall is a large mirror.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a skateboard. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>w

Dining Room (Roberto Colnaghi)
A long, rectangular mahogany table takes up most of the room. The room is old and dusty, and it seems decades have passed since the last time someone had dinner here. On the table lies a broken machine, and a calendar is pinned on the wall. Doorways lead west, east, and south.

>w

The Kitchen (Edward B)
The Cragne family kitchen. Light from a naked bulb feeds shadow down the spaces between old cabinets, counters and bookshelves. A dusty, doorless fridge overlooks an oven just as worse for wear. You'd guess it's been a minute since anyone's used this room to cook. A doorway leads east, and a wooden door set in the floor appears to lead to a cellar or basement.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>d
Carefully, you descend the creaking steps.

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.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>n

Cold Storage Room (Jeremy Freese)
Aunt Mavis used to keep her peaches in a room that didn't look at all like this.  On the walls is a message written in blood, composed in an ancient language you know intimately.

There's also the thing Aunt Mavis gave you. You now understand what it is.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and announces, "The time is now two o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>s

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.

>d

Cragne Library Forbidden Annex - Under the Basement (Ivan Roth)
You're in a rocky cavern, colder and wetter even than the dank basement. It is also dim and shadowy, but you can make out strange carvings on the rock walls, a sinister iron cage that dangles from the roof of the cave, and a large black cabinet of ornate design, set into the western wall. An ink-black tunnel entrance leads north.

You can see The Doctrine of the Long Stick, by Samuel W. Trail (smelling faintly of mildew), The Imagined Worm, by Elizabeth P. Stashwart, Out of the Screaming Planet, by Hiram Strangecraft (smelling faintly of mildew), The Searcher in Darkness, by Endrew Skeinweld, Across Black Oceans, by Eunice Salvoni, Roceau's Dictionary of Crime and Criminality - Centennial edition, Out of the Infinite, by Robert N. Ostregot, The Liquid Sky, by Robert N. Ostregot (smelling faintly of mildew), Mysteries of the Red City by Irenius Fong, The Broken Tongue, by Noah Chaplinski and The Reign of Reason, by Godos Atrakut here.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>u

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.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>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 coffee
The clouds in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>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 coffee
The swirls in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>w
Your ears pop and you stumble as you step across the threshold, reeling in a momentary gravitational slippage.

Laboratory (Michael Gentry)
Hard, white light reflected from steel walls pricks painfully at your eyes. Through the glare you can make out the implements of some sort of laboratory, squirming sculptures of metal and glass dripping curdled fluids and spurting foul-smelling puffs of steam. A way out lies east, but otherwise there seem to be no other exits from this place.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>e

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.

>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.

>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. There's a support column in the middle of the room with a system diagram on it, and lashed to the column there is a faraday cage with a window on its door looking inside. Next to it is a an overlay engine, and behind it a a dimensional stabilizer. 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 the control panel for the whole system. 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 faraday cage there is a sign 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.

On the heavy-duty table are an AE9B711D punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a 00A02209 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a C353F128 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a 0B46E931 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a FFFFFFFF punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), the Journal of Edwin Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) and two blank punch cards.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>d

Malign Tunnel (Damon L. Wakes)
The space beneath the boiler room is damp and narrow, little more than a dogleg corridor set into the earth. Something about its shape, its proportions, is deeply unsettling to you. There is a rusting iron ladder leading to the floor above, and a green door leading to the southwest, its paint flaking onto the uneven stone floor. The curving brick walls on either side of you arc gracefully inwards to form a vaulted ceiling. You would be able to stand comfortably were it not for the pipes that stretch like tendons above your head.

A phantom trolley stop sign reads Black Line -- Underground.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>sw

Amorphous Tunnel (Bill Maya)
This tunnel bends to the northeast. The walls shimmer slightly, gently undulating in the spectral darkness. To the west, set into the wall, almost invisible in the mortal dimness, is an antediluvian door. Daylight and a slight breeze wafts down some non-euclidean steps that lead up.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>ne

Malign Tunnel (Damon L. Wakes)
The space beneath the boiler room is damp and narrow, little more than a dogleg corridor set into the earth. Something about its shape, its proportions, is deeply unsettling to you. There is a rusting iron ladder leading to the floor above, and a green door leading to the southwest, its paint flaking onto the uneven stone floor. The curving brick walls on either side of you arc gracefully inwards to form a vaulted ceiling. You would be able to stand comfortably were it not for the pipes that stretch like tendons above your head.

A ghostly trolley stop sign reads Black Line -- Underground.

>u

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. There's a support column in the middle of the room with a system diagram on it, and lashed to the column there is a faraday cage with a window on its door looking inside. Next to it is a an overlay engine, and behind it a a dimensional stabilizer. 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 the control panel for the whole system. 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 faraday cage there is a sign 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.

On the heavy-duty table are an AE9B711D punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a 00A02209 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a C353F128 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a 0B46E931 punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), a FFFFFFFF punch card (smelling faintly of mildew), the Journal of Edwin Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew) and two blank punch cards.

>n

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.

>u

The Kitchen (Edward B)
The Cragne family kitchen. Light from a naked bulb feeds shadow down the spaces between old cabinets, counters and bookshelves. A dusty, doorless fridge overlooks an oven just as worse for wear. You'd guess it's been a minute since anyone's used this room to cook. A doorway leads east, and a wooden door set in the floor appears to lead to a cellar or basement.

>e

Dining Room (Roberto Colnaghi)
A long, rectangular mahogany table takes up most of the room. The room is old and dusty, and it seems decades have passed since the last time someone had dinner here. On the table lies a broken machine, and a calendar is pinned on the wall. Doorways lead west, east, and south.

>s

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>u

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east to the master bedroom (which is also open); a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

The broken doors to the armoire lie on the floor near the center of the room.

The doorless armoire stands against the north-west wall. There's nothing inside.

>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.

>n

Carol's Room (Ben Collins-Sussman)
A dusty room, unvisited for more than two decades.

You can see a window (closed) and a Tome of Naomi here.

>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.

>s

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east to the master bedroom (which is also open); a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

The broken doors to the armoire lie on the floor near the center of the room.

The doorless armoire stands against the north-west wall. There's nothing inside.

>s

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

>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.

The light in the void swells, casting strange shadows in the hallway. 

The hallway darkens slightly.

>w

Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

Once, in the Headmaster's Study... no. Don't go there.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

You are unable to decode mathematics, to solve problems like Werner or Emmy could.

>e

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

You hear an electronic humming noise coming from the hole in the wallpaper. 

>e

Library (Mike Spivey)
This library features dark paneling, polished hardwood floors, and thousands of books.  A mahogany desk sits against the one part of the walls not lined with books.  An antique wingback chair provides a place for quiet study, while in the center of the room is a reading podium.  The only exit is west, back to the hallway.

Embedded in the wall is a small safe.

A massive tome sits on the podium.

>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.

>w

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

White light flickers from somewhere inside the hole in the wallpaper. 

>n

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east to the master bedroom (which is also open); a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

The broken doors to the armoire lie on the floor near the center of the room.

The doorless armoire stands against the north-west wall. There's nothing inside.

>e

MASTER BEDROOM (ROWAN LIPKOVITS)
Here we have the master bedroom of Cragne Manor, which is by turns contradictorily capacious and cramped.  Though you can't put your finger on it, something about this windowless chamber sucks the very air out of your lungs and puts you on edge.  One would have to be a master indeed to achieve any rest in this offputting room.

Though it is relatively sparsely furnished, it wouldn't be much of a bedoom without a bed -- and there it is, a four-poster tall, dingy, imposing and unsettling.  Next to it is a bedside table, on which resides some torturously elongated lamp -- apparently the dim room's only light source, currently turned off.

To the west is the hallway door through which you first arrived, and to the east there is also a door to what is most likely a walk-in closet.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. 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.

>e

A Shadowy Closet (Molly Ying)
A shaft of light through the door to the west falls upon as tidy a closet as ever you've seen. The shelves are clear, and now you can see a trapdoor in the ceiling above them.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>u

Attic (Lane Puetz)
From this corner of the attic, paths lead south and west, or you can head back down the rickety staircase. A damp wind flows through a gash in the exterior wall.

A phantom trolley stop sign reads Eggplant Line -- Cragne Manor Attic.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form horizontal bands. 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.

>s

Disheveled Studio (Katherine Morayati)
The studio must have been abandoned in a hurry. The bookshelves are ransacked, the easel in pieces on the floor, bulbs torn out of two of the ceiling lights. The only thing undisturbed is a table, solid like a slab, precisely in the center of the room. Several layers of heavy curtain block off crawlspaces to the north and southeast.

The room smells distractingly of Peter's cologne.

Nothing remains of the canvas but a hollowed-out shell.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a gentle ripple. 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.

>se
The curtains swing back into place with a thud.

Abandoned Nursery (Harrison Gerard)
An octagonal room. Dust coats the walls. In one corner, a crib. In the other, a dollhouse. Exits lead northwest, north, and northeast.

You can see a vacuum cleaner here.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>n

Invasive Library (Justin de Vesine)
Once a study or a small sitting room, a particularly invasive species of library has taken over this space. Walls obscured by stacks of books. Ceiling hidden by stacks of books. The floor might as well be tiled with books. There's a path of sorts from a small doorway to the south to a desk amidst the overgrown collection, and to the southeast, a bookshelf has been shoved aside to reveal a passage through the wall.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. 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.

>se

Branching Corridor (Zachary Hodgens)
A trace amount of sunlight filters in impossibly through imperceivable cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the barren wooden walls and floorboards of this narrow passageway. A short distance away you find yourself in a crossroads of sorts. Corridors leading elsewhere go off toward the northwest, west, east, and southeast. Several large potted cacti line the walls of the passageways.

The trace rays of sunlight beaming down from above get in your eyes.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

The sunlight shining down is still in your eyes, no matter where you turn your head. A bead of sweat slides down your face.

>w

Science Tower (Riff Conner)
This round, tall room must be a tower. I don't know if you were given a description of the manor from the outside, or if it mentioned a tower if you were, but if you were and it did, this is probably that tower. At a guess it's around fifty feet tall, although it's very shadowy up at the top so it's difficult to estimate it accurately.

It appears to be some kind of science lab, although you would expect a science lab to have more stuff in it; perhaps all the stuff that was easily moveable has already been taken away. There's a large table in the center of the room, and everything else is up against the walls: a complex-looking control console, a large chalkboard, a metal cabinet, an old iron ashtray stand, and a wooden barstool with a hamster cage on top of it.

The whole place has a thick smell of science throughout it (assuming science smells like chalk dust, hamster, cigarettes, and electricity), and rain is pouring in through the open skylight above. There are exits to the east and southwest.

>x coffee
The swirls 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.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and squawks, "The time is now one o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>e
Dr. Peanut squeaks queryingly as you leave.

Branching Corridor (Zachary Hodgens)
A trace amount of sunlight filters in impossibly through imperceivable cracks in the ceiling, illuminating the barren wooden walls and floorboards of this narrow passageway. A short distance away you find yourself in a crossroads of sorts. Corridors leading elsewhere go off toward the northwest, west, east, and southeast. Several large potted cacti line the walls of the passageways.

The trace rays of sunlight beaming down from above get in your eyes.

>se
You carefully sidestep through the maze of cacti you have built.

The Observatory (Joey Jones)
The observatory is a cramped domed room cluttered with all manner of mechanical contrivance. The way out is northwest.

At the top of the dome is a large telescope. Immediately beneath it is a vast projector, bristling with obscure controls.

To one side of the dome is a worn wooden lectern, set before a large chalk circle.

The device is projecting a star sign upon the walls of the dome.

>x coffee
The contents of your coffee cup shock you so much that you almost drop it. Instead of organic liquid curves and swirls, the cream forms a weblike pattern of jagged geometric lines that radiate out from the center at irregular intervals like bolts of lightning.

According to the book you read, images like this occur when your fate depends on so many separate actions and courses of destiny that it can no longer be adequately divined by a leftover cup of now-cold muck water.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>* OK, guess we need to solve some climactic puzzles next time!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>save
Ok.

>in
You can't go that way.

>i
You are carrying:
  a clipped newspaper article (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a folded up note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tarnished brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a spray bottle of fungicide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Cyst (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slimy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Jessenia's receipt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ancient key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bag of peanut (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pointer thingy (extended) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a yellow sticky-note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Life Beneath Nightmares (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver mirror (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a gold jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of peaches (smelling faintly of mildew) (open)
    some golden peach liquid
      some pickled peaches
  a pistachio ice cream cone (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an a worn out, decaying picture (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a little stoppered vial of blue liquid (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a golden apple (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a can of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusted toolbox (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black fountain pen (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a box of Nilla Wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some assorted teeth (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an ominous-looking painting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a black box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    a rusty piece of metal (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an enormous dessicated rat corpse (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of yellowed newsprint (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a stubby pencil (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Limerickus Dirtius (smelling faintly of mildew)
    some Nilla wafers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
    red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (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)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a whole large reddish-orange pumpkin (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a wine bottle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mildewy carpet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of screws (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a pile of shirts (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of pants (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pile of underwear (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  photos of you (smelling faintly of mildew)
  sketches of your face (smelling faintly of mildew)
  A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a jar of old keys (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a nasty-looking key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a silver and ivory key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a creased square of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sturdy key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a sinister iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an ornate bronze key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Red Triangle Key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small desk key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small rusty iron key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long wooden key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a big slice of cold pizza (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (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)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (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) (being worn and open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (closed)
    a side pocket (closed)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a box of vials (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a vial of cedarwood extract
    a vial of frankincense
    a vial of tuberose extract
    a vial of geosmin
    a vial of musk
    a vial of rose extract
    a spray decant vial
    a vial of vanilla extract
    an unmarked clear vial
    an unmarked teal vial
    an unmarked pale blue vial
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a leather cord and pendant (being worn)
  a pair of reading glasses (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a battered yellow JogMaster (being worn)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew) (being worn as a mask)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

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