Start of a transcript of August Bye royale commande. Matt Fendahleen, (c) 2001 etc etc. Release 1 / Serial number 010201 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10 SD Standard interpreter 1.0 (6F) / Library serial number 991113 >restart Are you sure you want to restart? y The crags of Panhelios still haunt your waking. The thin scream of the wind rushing in your ears. The pale, rocky spires like petrified talons clawing at the sky. The impossible vastness of the canyons. The heat. And the distance. Especially the distance. Manfred isn't breathing. He isn't breathing. He died in your arms as you tried pathetically to staunch the flow of blood from his side. And she, she watches from a distance, stalking back and forth like a hunting cat. Her hair is a bloody halo against the wind. Her every movement is a naked threat. A few moments ago, the world made sense. "Maybe you should just surrender, Ikthanadar." she calls out to you, lips twitching in inhuman amusement. You do not reply. You just kneel there, staring at nothing, cradling your comerade's head in your bloodied hands as her soft, lilting voice sings you its fatal lullaby, and... You tried so hard. The woman sighs. "Perhaps I should be more specific." she says, gathering up the child and shoving her roughly into the arms of a black-armored attendant. "Surrender now, or the girl dies. Slowly." Heat and horror. Revulsion. Why? Why? "Begging your pardon, milord?" You blink, glance around you. The doorkeeper gazes at you with a sort of... sympathetic absence of concern. Quite a feat. "Nothing." you tell him. "I was just..." you shake your head. "Nothing." The man raises an eyebrow. "I'll just be announcing you then, so I shall." he gives you a tight smile. "And welcome to Luna Plina, Lord." >l The Long Hall The long hall of the Luna Plina is not as brightly lit as it once was. The torches remain darkened, and in their stead, a series of candles flicker wanly at the edges of the floor , lighting the way to August like pallid wisps. The effect is striking. To the east, at the end of the corridor, low firelight floods in along with the sounds of carousing nobility. To the west, the candles guide the way back into the dusk of the outside world. The passages to the other chambers of the citadel are veiled in shadow. Clearly one is not meant to wander. The citadel doorkeeper, a serene-looking, elderly manservant, stands unobtrusively at his station. >x doorkeepre You can't see any such thing. >x doorkeeper The sentinel is a greying, though sturdy man of dubious origins. He has the look of an easterner, narrow eyes and beaten skin which has, perhaps, seen too much sun. Or perhaps it is you who have not seen enough? The sentinel clears his throat wetly, before turning and bellowing into the chamber behind him. "The most noble Lord Hakuin Ikthanadar, honored servant of our lady of compassion, revered champion of the glorious knights of truth, defeater of the anarch territories, enemy of chaos and slayer of the corrupter Bloodwyn Dire!" he bellows. For a moment, just a moment, you feel a faint itching in your left hand. >i You wear a simple black outfit consisting of cloak, breeches, boots and tunic. You carry nothing. The flustered doorkeeper takes a moment to get his breath back. (One may type 'about' should one so desire.) >about August Bye royale commande. Matt Fendahleen, (c) 2001 etc etc. Release 1 / Serial number 010201 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10 SD ==================================== I didn't think I was going to have time to enter the smoochiecomp. Then, with one week to the deadline, my workload vanished. What luck, I thought! I had never written an IF game before, didn't know inform, and like a fool, a poor, desperate fool, I thought I could beat the proverbial clock... I wrote, designed, and coded this game in seven days. Seven miserable, cathode- saturated days. As a consequence it is a horrid, malformed, wretched, crud- eating wreck of a failure and I am only submitting it out of sheer bloody- mindedness. Gosh, it feels good having this talk with you. Now then - VERBOSITY ALERT: During the game you may be overwhelmed by unfeasibly large chunks of text. Many of these chunks were originally intended to be interactive. Just relax. There are no real puzzles here, no need to pick out every detail. Go with it as best you can. And I promise I'll never, ever do it again. Also: My NPC conversation system is a hideous cripple. You may find it horrible and clunky. All conversation is conducted through ASK and TELL - keep it to one word statements: ASK CATHBAD ABOUT UNDERWEAR will get you somewhere (or not, as the case may be. I mean...ewww...) while ASK CATHBAD ABOUT HIS UNDERWEAR will not. Also, toward the end, you may bid the leading lady adieu by typing "(name), farewell." (or, "name,goodbye", but this is less poetic). You can TALK TO characters, should they have something to say to you, though this is mostly prevalent at the end of the game, when I totally ran out of time. That said, the game is filled with subtleties, and you may find interesting variations on the same themes. Some characters have memory, and you may usually ask them about a subject more than once, or in different order, for a new response. Also, if a certain question elicits no response, you might want to try again after conversation has progressed a little more. Or maybe not. The characters are largely incomplete, in my view, the main NPC recieving insufficient background, and consequently, little empathy. The sentinel in particular, can be asked about almost nothing besides himself and the ocean. Life is hard. With all that i've learned from writing this, I'm looking forward to my next IF attempt with a little more enthusiasm. The story of August has not been told nearly as effectively as I hoped it would, the game sadly incomplete, and that depresses me. Still, I hope you can appreciate this half-baked kludge-fest for what it was intended to be. -mattf (The Great Grumbledook) All criticism, suggestions, mutilated photos of myself in the shower to lust_for_blood@hotmail.com ==================================== Muffled laughter drifts in from the open doorway to the west. >[Ack! What a horrible introduction! I was enjoying it thus far...] That's not a verb I recognise. >ask doorkeeper about ocean "The sea." you say, abruptly. "Yes milord?" asks the doorkeeper respectfully. "I mean, you have the look of a seafaring man." you explain. "Ah!" the man lets out a chuckle. "That is my name. Tsi, I am called. Tsi, sea, it happens all the time, so it does." "I see." you reply, deadpan. >ask him about himself "Not much more to say." Tsi tells you, holding your gaze with his unfathomable eyes. "You great Lord, me man who holds door. It is all relative, so it is." You glance back down the hall, following the twin lines of candlelight to the open threshold of the Luna Plina. Night is coming, and the cool breeze of dusk tempts you to leave this place behind. But the night is young...and you promised Rosalyn you would attend this gathering. No matter how insipid. >e You glance back down the hall, following the twin lines of candlelight to the open threshold of the Luna Plina. Night is coming, and the cool breeze of dusk tempts you to leave this place behind. But the night is young...and you promised Rosalyn you would attend this gathering. No matter how insipid. The music to the west gathers in pace. >l The Long Hall The long hall of the Luna Plina is not as brightly lit as it once was. The torches remain darkened, and in their stead, a series of candles flicker wanly at the edges of the floor , lighting the way to August like pallid wisps. The effect is striking. To the east, at the end of the corridor, low firelight floods in along with the sounds of carousing nobility. To the west, the candles guide the way back into the dusk of the outside world. The passages to the other chambers of the citadel are veiled in shadow. Clearly one is not meant to wander. Sentinel Tsi stands unobtrusively nearby, face expressionless as ever. The old sentinel regards you passively. "I have no wish to be rude," he tells you. "But you are intending to go in soon, yes? I would prefer not to be made a liar." >e You glance back down the hall, following the twin lines of candlelight to the open threshold of the Luna Plina. Night is coming, and the cool breeze of dusk tempts you to leave this place behind. But the night is young...and you promised Rosalyn you would attend this gathering. No matter how insipid. Excited conversation pipes up from somewhere near the doorway. >in The shadow is deep. You might never find your way back. >n The shadow is deep. You might never find your way back. The wind picks up outside, a soft keening echoing through the long hall. >s The shadow is deep. You might never find your way back. >ne The shadow is deep. You might never find your way back. Snatches of conversation float in from the west... "-a hero-" "-cut his hand right off-" "-hope he made her suffer-" >w The August Chamber The August chamber of the Luna Plina Citidel was once a chapel of war. Now everywhere is laughter and light: the vast, pillared halls of sterile grey marble have been refurnished in gold and velvet, feast and fire, and it would seem that no one is any the wiser as to it's bloody past. Darkness is at every window, and the chamber cast in shadow, but the warm glow of torchlight is cheerful enough. Sumptuous tapestries hang above sturdy oak tables, all well-stocked with plates of meat and other fare. Lords and ladies, both old and young, all draped in their finest silks, entwine themselves in each other's arms and dance joyfully to the minstrels' songs. Laughter and light... You feel horribly jaded. Snatches of conversation. "-damned Bloodwyn-" "-daemoness-" "-met with justice-" The Prince himself lounges at the King's table with a few of his staff. He looks up, seems to notice you for the first time, and beckons you over. >x prince Prince William is young, barely out of his eighteenth year, a full-faced, slightly paranoid young man with bowl-cut black hair. He should make a fine sovereign, provided the advisor meets with some terrible accident. Snatches of conversation. "-wiped them out-" "-burned the city-" "-pure evil-" >talk to prince You make your way to the King's table, keeping to the shadows as best you can. Prince William smiles wanly, taking a deep draught from his goblet as you approach. "L'rd Hak'in." he says, wiping his mouth and setting the golden cup unsteadily to one side. "W's hop'ng you'd attend." "An honor, Highness." you reply, bowing. "Y'll have to 'scuse me." the young regent tells you. "'m 'cred'bly drunk" "This is perfectly understandable, Highness." you reassure him. "Jus wann'd to say, y'now. Juss wan'd to say..." the young Prince rallies magnificently, looks right at you with his vague, watery eyes. "Thank you, Hakoowin. Thank you f'r y'r loy'lty. The Pan-heeli's thing. Bl'wyn gone f'rever. M' father's proud. Loves ye. Go'bless. Go'bless..." Prince William lays his head on the King's table and begins sobbing quietly to himself. Orlock the advisor steps forward from the shadows, regards you icily. "The Prince wishes to congratulate Lord Hakuin for his noble efforts in ridding the earth of Bloodwyn Dire." he says, emotionless as ever. "You may leave now." The music drops in pace, and the dancing regains a little order. >talk to orlock Orlock glares at you from the shadows behind the King's table. You and he have little to say to each other that cannot be said far more eloquently with knives. >listen Laughter and merriment. The minstrels on the main stage play a raucous jig. Cathbad sniffs the ladle stained with red wine, then that stained with green. He smiles, apparently satisfied. >x cathbad Cathbad the heretic is an unlikely figure to behold here, being, as he is, a heretic. He is a gaunt, yet energetic man with prematurely white hair and beard, tied into thin braids which reach his waist. His manner as he ladles out wine to the guests is gruff, but his eyes sparkle with good humour. >talk to cathbad You stride over to Cathbad's table, stepping aside as he ladles out wine to a young couple. "What are you doing here, heretic?" You enquire, unable to supress a slight smile "Guid evenin' to ye, too, ye shadow-hugger." scowls Cathbad, carefully filling the Lady's cup with green wine. "An' I'm servin' wine, since ye seem to be blind." Miserable old coot hasnt changed a bit. Someone stumbles in the dance, and the crowd tips to one side, laughing uproariously. >ask him about wine "And what wines might you be serving, good heretic?" you ask. "A stoot red, and the lotus wine, here." he indicates the green concoction with a ladle. "Have a sniff o'em, if ye like." A wintery smile passes your lips as you recall the last night you spent with sweet Lady Rosalyn. Before Bloodwyn Dire invaded her homeland...slaughtered her family... It seems like forever. >ask him about rosalyn You flit your eyes across the dancers. "Cathbad." you murmur. "Do you know the Lady Rosalyn?" "Ah'm afraid not." he sighs. "Only people ah knoo here are bastards like Orlock. And you, yer Lordship." he grins. You do not smile. The desire to leave is almost unbearable. Where IS she? >ask him about heretic You clear your throat, regard Cathbad with curiosity. "So what became of the sentence of death, should you set foot within a hundred miles of this citadel." Cathbad chortles, genuinely amused. "Aye, well now, young Willy there -" he thrusts the curious ladle towards the inebriated prince. "Changed the rules. Oonly for August, thoo." he dips the ladle into the barrel of red wine, fills a pale young Lord's cup and shoos him away. "Needed someone with knowledge o' the oold ways, ye ken? No' easy, since the King made knowledge o' the oold ways a capital offence." he sniffs. "Booger off now, there's a guid lad." >ask william about heretic "The Prince has other matters with which to occupy his time, Lod Hakuin." grunts Orlock. You look down at Prince William, who is slowly dribbling onto the King's table, but say nothing. One of the guests, a drawn-looking woman in grey, tips her cup as she dances. Red wine spreads like a carpet of blood across the floor >x woman You can't see any such thing. >l The August Chamber The August chamber of the Luna Plina Citidel was once a chapel of war. Now everywhere is laughter and light: the vast, pillared halls of sterile grey marble have been refurnished in gold and velvet, feast and fire, and it would seem that no one is any the wiser as to it's bloody past. Darkness is at every window, and the chamber cast in shadow, but the warm glow of torchlight is cheerful enough. Sumptuous tapestries hang above sturdy oak tables, all well-stocked with plates of meat and other fare. Lords and ladies, both old and young, all draped in their finest silks, entwine themselves in each other's arms and dance joyfully to the minstrels' songs. Laughter and light... You feel horribly jaded. >x me You make quite an imposing, if slightly underdressed figure, wearing a simple outfit of coarse black cloth along with a heavy sable cloak. You will certainly not win any awards for 'best dressed nobleman' of the evening. But you don't look like a hookah-addled peacock in tights, either. Perhaps Rosalyn isn't coming? Surely she would have told you. >x tapestries The tapestries have faded with the years, but they are no less impressive for it. Subtle weavings play out into vast depictions of fantastic beasts, knights at war, scenes of courtly love. In the flicker of the firelight, they almost seem to move with a life of their own, a mirror to the world in which you now stand. What if something went wrong during her journey? >ask him about august You try to catch his attention without success. Perhaps he is simply too engrossed in his music. >x him Byron, an old friend and true, sits with the other musicians on stage, weaving music with his lutestrings. He looks up but rarely, and doesn't really seem to notice you when he does. The musicians beat out a lively jig. The dancers leap and spin with renewed vigor. >x man Cathbad the heretic is an unlikely figure to behold here, being, as he is, a heretic. He is a gaunt, yet energetic man with prematurely white hair and beard, tied into thin braids which reach his waist. His manner as he ladles out wine to the guests is gruff, but his eyes sparkle with good humour. >ask him about august It occurs to you that, while you promised Rosalyn you would come here this night, you really don't know what this gathering is in aid of. You explain this to Cathbad, who grins wickedly. "The wake of August." he laughs. "A celebration o' the end o' a verra special month, accordin' to the pagan ways. Y'see, 'tis oonly in August that the green lotus blooms. Tis said that the spirits o' the dead bring them forth, aye. Not that ah'd knoo aboot that." >l The August Chamber The August chamber of the Luna Plina Citidel was once a chapel of war. Now everywhere is laughter and light: the vast, pillared halls of sterile grey marble have been refurnished in gold and velvet, feast and fire, and it would seem that no one is any the wiser as to it's bloody past. Darkness is at every window, and the chamber cast in shadow, but the warm glow of torchlight is cheerful enough. Sumptuous tapestries hang above sturdy oak tables, all well-stocked with plates of meat and other fare. Lords and ladies, both old and young, all draped in their finest silks, entwine themselves in each other's arms and dance joyfully to the minstrels' songs. Laughter and light... You feel horribly jaded. >x musicians A half-dozen minstrels sit atop the August stage, piping, playing, weaving pleasant melodies as the crowd cavorts to their song below. You recognize Byron, strumming his lute as usual... the others are unknown to you. The familiar voice of the sentinel pipes up from the Long Hall. "Lady Felicity of Cromyr, daughter of Manfred Cromyr, first hope of the western morning!" he proclaims. The Lady herself, smiles and sunlight, skips down the stairs and begins greeting old friends. Felicity...Rosalyn's sister... >x felicity Lady Felicity, Rosalyn's younger sister. Pale of skin and fair of face. She carries herself with a joyful innocence. You try to catch her eye. She turns her back on you as though you didn't exist. >talk to felicity "My Lady, I wonder..." you trail off as Lady Felicity sweeps by, ignoring you utterly. >g "My Lady, I wonder..." you trail off as Lady Felicity sweeps by, ignoring you utterly. >x felicity Lady Felicity, Rosalyn's younger sister. Pale of skin and fair of face. She carries herself with a joyful innocence. You try to catch her eye. She turns her back on you as though you didn't exist. Rosalyn's younger sister circulates throughout the gathering, bestowing tender embraces upon those she cares for. Except you. >talk to byron Lady Felicity covers her mouth with a gloved hand and smirks mischeviously to a companion as she disengages herself from a few overly enthusiastic well-wishers. >talk to cathbad You stride over to Cathbad's table, stepping aside as he ladles out wine to a young couple. "What are you doing here, heretic?" You enquire, unable to supress a slight smile "Guid evenin' to ye, too, ye shadow-hugger." scowls Cathbad, carefully filling the Lady's cup with green wine. "An' I'm servin' wine, since ye seem to be blind." Miserable old coot hasnt changed a bit. Felicity takes a silver cup and hands it to the Heretic, who fills it with wine, handing it back to her with a fatherly wink. Condescending goat. >ask cathbad about felicity "Why?" you mutter aloud. "Why wot?" demands Cathbad, eavsdropping on your thoughts. "Lady Felicity - the sister of my Lady... she ignores me. I had thought we were friends." "Ahh." says Cathbad, nodding. "She'll notice ye soon enoof, lad. Doon't fret." Felicity sips delicately at her wine, occasionally breathing in the aromas as she slips between the oaken tables, perusing the various foodstuffs. >talk to felicity "My Lady, I wonder..." you trail off as Lady Felicity sweeps by, ignoring you utterly. Felicity turns back toward the dance, and stops short, first jumping in shock, spilling a few drops of green wine to the floor - then smiling as she suddenly seems to notice you for the first time. "Hakuin!" she cries, throwing her arms around you and laughing with joy. You stand like a graven icon as she hugs you as tightly as she can. She disentangles herself, growing suddenly silent as she notices your expression. "Rosalyn?" You ask, quietly. "Oh, Hakuin, she isn't coming." sighs Felicity, tossing her hair to one side and regarding you with painful sympathy. "Isn't...?" The words die in your throat. You choke on them as if they were ashes. Felicity takes your arm, gently places her hand on the ruined stump of your left wrist. The gesture is kind. Sisterly. "After the attack on our family... after you killed Bloodwyn..." she tells you, softly. "She consecrated herself. Became a nun. She'll have none of this sort of thing." She gives a broad wave, indicating the revelry. "But..." but she... I promised... Felicity blinks once, twice, squeezes your hand. "I'm sorry Hakuin." And then she is gone, vanishing into the throng, leaving you to stand in shadow. Darkness. Regret. And no reason to stay. >e You look around you in disgust, disgust and anger. Anger at the betrayl, at the promises made empty. You promised her... she said... The music has changed to an oppressive overture, the harmonies openly grotesque. It doesn't matter. You're leaving. You turn about, pulling your cloak closer about your shoulders, and head towards the stairway. Hmph. The crowd seems to be blocking your way. >x crowd You stand in shadow, take a moment to observe the guests as they sway and circulate through the half-light like strange silhouettes. Well-dressed men and women of courtly status gathered in one vast cluster, whirling, dancing, laughing, drinking... Indeed, everyone seems to be drinking like fish, returning to Cathbad's table to refill their cups as soon as they are emptied. Lady Felicity skips through the crowd, now here, now there. Something seems to be moving in the doorway... A dim, cloaked figure in the darkness. A woman. For a moment hope returns...could she...but you know it isn't her. >x figure A woman, draped in a heavy black cloak - to all evidence identical to the one you yourself wear - standing in the dimness at the head of the stairway. You cannot see her face. The sentinel clears his throat noisily. "The Queen of swords..." No... >x figure A woman, draped in a heavy black cloak - to all evidence identical to the one you yourself wear - standing in the dimness at the head of the stairway. You cannot see her face. "...handmaiden of the nameless gods who sleep in shadow..." No. >i You wear a simple black outfit consisting of cloak, breeches, boots and tunic. You carry nothing. "...mistress of spiders, maiden of blood, despoiler of the western territories..." She fell. In Panhelios. She... You push forcefully through the crowd, who sway and stare, not understanding. >x figure A woman, draped in a heavy black cloak - to all evidence identical to the one you yourself wear - standing in the dimness at the head of the stairway. You cannot see her face. "...daughter of Nosthomak..." It suddenly occurs to you with horrifying clarity that you never saw her die. >hit figure You could, with this anger. You could slay them all, if a gentle heart did not still restrain you. Time slows to nothing. The crowd seems ethereal, insubstantial. The music echoes through your ears as if seeping up from the earth itself. This cannot be. It cannot b- She sheds her cloak with subtle grace, lets it fall from her face and shoulders to the cold marble, where it pours down into the shadows, even as if it were spun from them. She turns, lifting her gown, descends the stairway as the guests part in numb, stricken silence. Bloodwyn Dire, enemy of the world. Bloodwyn Dire, clad up to her very throat in pure white, white lace, white gown, white skin. Bloodwyn Dire, the woman you thought you had slain. She seeks you out as though she had followed you all her life, draws closer, ever closer... You barely hear the laughter of Cathbad, the obscene cursing of Orlock, the drunken terror of the Prince. Your own heartbeat fills the world. She looks up at you, eyes smouldering with the old fire, places a gloved hand on your chest. The touch of the enemy is gentle. "Dance with me." she whispers. And, without knowing why, you do. You burn with humiliation as you look at your sword, laid in submission upon the blood-caked dust of Panhelios. She stops her pacing, places her hands on her hips with an acid creak of leather and metal. "Did you not hear me?" you spit, hopelessly. "I yield. You have won. Release the girl, and the others." And slay me, you cursed animal. Shame. Regret. She chuckles mirthlessly. Something has changed in her manner, a cold darkness fallen upon her arrogance. "Spoken like a true knight of compassion." she says, with dangerous softness. Then, to her luitenant: "Kill the child." "NO!" You lunge forward, snatch the blade from your feet, strike, only to be met by the cursed black blade of the grinning maiden of blood, smashing into your own weapon with tremendous force. The impact makes your swordarm go numb, and only by some chaotic miracle are you able to deflect the second blow. Again and again she strikes - the crags echo with the ringing of steel on steel as she forces you back, ever back, toward the edge, screaming like a mad thing as you stumble, unable even to think, pushed to the limit simply in the act of defence. She slams her heel into your belly, closes in, too close to strike, drives a dagger into your unprotected shoulder with her free hand. You roar with the pain of it, flail blindly, knock it from her grasp, too late, too late... You step backward, feel a rush of wind, empty air beneath your feet And fall. The August Chamber The August chamber seems to darken as you whirl with the music, arm in arm with the Lady uninvited. A dance of predator and prey, a graceful struggle. A dance not unlike the one which you thought had ended in her death. The celebration continues, though perhaps a little more subdued than before. Only Cathbad, who is amused, and the minstrels, who are oblivious, are not affected by the presence of Bloodwyn. Or by your percieved association with her. >x woman Which do you mean, Bloodwyn or Lady Felicity? >bloodwyn Gone is the jagged black armor and weapons of war. Gone the cobalt raiment of the god of death. Bloodwyn is a pale and fragile child, skin of alabaster, delicate and beautiful, clad in gown and gloves of thin white silk and lace, her hair a floating river of softest scarlet. But her eyes are ungentle, and they burn with some dark, nameless fire, reminding you that she is far from weakness, and further still from innocence. >talk to her (Bloodwyn) Bloodwyn turns her face from yours, features pale and fragile. You regard her warily, not knowing her mind. The tension between you shakes the very air. >hit her (Bloodwyn) The shadows crowd close to you, dark and cloying, as your mind fills with burning wrath. You seize the daemoness by the throat, determined to be sure of her, this time, forever - she flings her arms open, wide - a fluttering of a hundred wings - a distant roar - She screams, screams with an anguish you have not heard since Panhelios, and the darkness screams with her. The windows of the Luna Plina shatter inwards, showering the floor with glass and wood, and the shadows, the shadows pour in, a living, shrieking sea of cold terror. The guests scatter, flee, screaming in animal fear, tapestries torn from walls, every torch extinguished, every table overturned in the black gale of Bloodwyn's spirit. And then, as suddenly as it begun, it is over. The Long Hall You find yourself again in the long hall of the Luna Plina. But how the long hall has changed. The elegant stonework lies corroded, collapsed, the citadel and it's glory in abject ruin. Vines entangle themselves about the stairways and the roots of great trees upend the cobbles beneath your feet. As you look long into the night, you fancy you can see shapes, of people, or statues. In every direction is darkness. The candles no longer flicker. The sentinel still stands by the ruined August doorway, sadness graven onto his face. Bloodwyn smiles at you, cooly, tracing her steps with measured grace. "There's no need to be shy, Ikthanadar." she says. "Talk to me." >undo The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >l The August Chamber The August chamber seems to darken as you whirl with the music, arm in arm with the Lady uninvited. A dance of predator and prey, a graceful struggle. A dance not unlike the one which you thought had ended in her death. The celebration continues, though perhaps a little more subdued than before. Only Cathbad, who is amused, and the minstrels, who are oblivious, are not affected by the presence of Bloodwyn. Or by your percieved association with her. Bloodwyn smiles at you, cooly, tracing her steps with measured grace. "There's no need to be shy, Ikthanadar." she says. "Talk to me." >talk to bloodwyn Orlock stalks over, a pallid wraith, quivering with supressed rage. He does not look at either of you. "The Prince" he chokes thickly "under the advice of the heretic, has charged me to explain that the Lady Dire will be permitted to remain in August until the closure of this celebration. At which time she must depart." He turns to you, then, impales you on his gaze. "And may you join her, Lord Hakuin." he spits. Bloodwyn smirks, clearly amused as the advisor turns and hurries back to the King's table. >talk to bloodwyn >ask her about bloodwyn (Bloodwyn about that) "Tell me..." You swallow hard, unsure of yourself. Is it morbid curiosity? Do you really want this knowledge? She snorts, contemptuous. "And what would you have me tell you, dear Hakuin?" "I don't know." you reply simply. "For all the war between us, I know nothing of you. Since we seem to have some truce..." you give up. This is worse than pathetic. She lifts her gaze to yours, hot shadows shifting behind her eyes. "All right." she says quietly. "I was born in Nosthomak. I took control of the temple of Ur. I invaded the western territories. I fought the so-called knights of compassion and won. I fell from the highest peak in Panhelios. I came here." She looks away, coldly, into the firelight. "Anything else?" >ask her about knights (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. Bloodwyn runs a gloved hand delicately over the surface of your cloak. "Still wearing this?" she asks, arching a slender eyebrow. "You really don't need it, poor Hakuin." >ask her about cloak (Bloodwyn about that) The music swells, gently, a soothing interlude as your motion slows. A thought still nags at you. "Do you object to my retaining my cloak?" you ask, unsure of yourself. "No." she replies. "But you cannot wear it forever, dear Hakuin." you catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes, but she turns away from you, the moment lost. >undo The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >take off cloak You take off your cloak. >ask her about cloak (Bloodwyn about that) The music swells, gently, a soothing interlude as your motion slows. A thought still nags at you. "Do you object to my retaining my cloak?" you ask, unsure of yourself. "No." she replies. "But you cannot wear it forever, dear Hakuin." you catch a glimpse of sadness in her eyes, but she turns away from you, the moment lost. For a moment, over the pale shoulder of your graceful nemesis, you catch the gaze of lady Felicity. She seems profoundly shaken, hurt and distrust evident in her eyes. >ask her about hakuin (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. "Why me, why did you seek me out?..." You break away from her, push her back. "Why am I even doing this? Playing your sick games?" She tightens her hold on your wrist, draws you back. "Hush." she whispers, smiling slightly. "That's not important now. Just dance with me." You grudgingly swing back into step. If only to keep her in sight. Bloodwyn sighs, though whether in contentment or frustration you know not. >x her (Bloodwyn) Gone is the jagged black armor and weapons of war. Gone the cobalt raiment of the god of death. Bloodwyn is a pale and fragile child, skin of alabaster, delicate and beautiful, clad in gown and gloves of thin white silk and lace, her hair a floating river of softest scarlet. But her eyes are ungentle, and they burn with some dark, nameless fire, reminding you that she is far from weakness, and further still from innocence. >ask her about fall (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. One question plagues your mind more than any other aspect of the bloodshed of Panhelios. "That fall. In Panhelios. I cannot believe... was there a ledge beneath you? How is it that you live?" She looks at you, her expression unreadable . "Fate can be malicious." is all she says in reply. >ask her about panhelios (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. "Tell me, Dire Lady-" she skewers you with a spiteful glance. "What possessed you to invade Panhelios? Why assault Lord Manfred and his family?" Why murder them one by one before my Lady's eyes? Her face is pale in the firelight. "I wanted to." she says, simply, harshly. You feel your gorge rise at the supreme arrogance of the woman. >ask her about roslyn (Bloodwyn about that) You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. >ask her about heretic (Bloodwyn about that) "Are you familiar with the heretic, over there?" you ask. "No." she replies, swaying gracefully in your arms. "But I'm rather fond of heretics." >ask her about august (Bloodwyn about that) You extend your arm, keeping her distant in the motion of the dance. "Why did you come here?" you ask. "I doubt you were invited." Or welcome. "I go where I will." she states, lifting her chin defiantly. "If these perfumed cattle object to my presence, they can leave." She swings about, pulls herself close to you again. "Why are you here?" she asks abruptly. >tell her about roslyn (Bloodwyn about that) You can think of nothing sufficent to say. >tell her about rosalyn (Bloodwyn about that) You lead, shaping her footsteps as she glides with feline grace across the marbled floor of August. "You asked me why I came here." you say mildly. "I came here because I made a promise in Panhelios." The realm YOU ravished, dear murderess. "There was a certain Lady..." Your eyes begin to sting, your voice becomes thick and tight. Something at the edge of your memory is very wrong. "What promise?" she asks with uncharacteristic softness. You do not look at her. "Rosalyn, a Lady I was courting... I promised her I would attend... She begged me to promise her..." You break off, disturbed. Why are you telling her this? Why are you even here? You feel her press her cheek against your tunic, a silent comfort. You should be revolted. But you are not. >x memory You can't see any such thing. >help That's not a verb I recognise. >about August Bye royale commande. Matt Fendahleen, (c) 2001 etc etc. Release 1 / Serial number 010201 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10 SD ==================================== I didn't think I was going to have time to enter the smoochiecomp. Then, with one week to the deadline, my workload vanished. What luck, I thought! I had never written an IF game before, didn't know inform, and like a fool, a poor, desperate fool, I thought I could beat the proverbial clock... I wrote, designed, and coded this game in seven days. Seven miserable, cathode- saturated days. As a consequence it is a horrid, malformed, wretched, crud- eating wreck of a failure and I am only submitting it out of sheer bloody- mindedness. Gosh, it feels good having this talk with you. Now then - VERBOSITY ALERT: During the game you may be overwhelmed by unfeasibly large chunks of text. Many of these chunks were originally intended to be interactive. Just relax. There are no real puzzles here, no need to pick out every detail. Go with it as best you can. And I promise I'll never, ever do it again. Also: My NPC conversation system is a hideous cripple. You may find it horrible and clunky. All conversation is conducted through ASK and TELL - keep it to one word statements: ASK CATHBAD ABOUT UNDERWEAR will get you somewhere (or not, as the case may be. I mean...ewww...) while ASK CATHBAD ABOUT HIS UNDERWEAR will not. Also, toward the end, you may bid the leading lady adieu by typing "(name), farewell." (or, "name,goodbye", but this is less poetic). You can TALK TO characters, should they have something to say to you, though this is mostly prevalent at the end of the game, when I totally ran out of time. That said, the game is filled with subtleties, and you may find interesting variations on the same themes. Some characters have memory, and you may usually ask them about a subject more than once, or in different order, for a new response. Also, if a certain question elicits no response, you might want to try again after conversation has progressed a little more. Or maybe not. The characters are largely incomplete, in my view, the main NPC recieving insufficient background, and consequently, little empathy. The sentinel in particular, can be asked about almost nothing besides himself and the ocean. Life is hard. With all that i've learned from writing this, I'm looking forward to my next IF attempt with a little more enthusiasm. The story of August has not been told nearly as effectively as I hoped it would, the game sadly incomplete, and that depresses me. Still, I hope you can appreciate this half-baked kludge-fest for what it was intended to be. -mattf (The Great Grumbledook) All criticism, suggestions, mutilated photos of myself in the shower to lust_for_blood@hotmail.com ==================================== >dance You dance, like knights on a chess table, now circling, now separating, sable and ivory, desire and death. And all around, the dancers avert their eyes, keep their distance. Pretending not to be afraid. >x dancers The guests seem unreal, insubstantial as the shadows as you whirl arm in arm with the Lady uninvited. You dance, like knights on a chess table, now circling, now separating, sable and ivory, desire and death. The guests dance around you, still enjoying themselves... but keeping their distance. >x felicity Lady Felicity, Rosalyn's younger sister. Pale of skin and fair of face. She carries herself with a joyful innocence. Felicity catches your eye and smiles before gliding into dance once more. >talk to felicity Felicity shakes her head in betrayed confusion and looks away. Bloodwyn smiles and draws you closer. >talk to bloodwyn >bloodwyn, farewell You twist yourself from her grip, push her roughly away. The gaze of the crowd, the conflict you feel in yourself, the knowledge of what this woman has done, is too much to bear. She looks at you, eyes wide and glittering in the firelight, as you turn on your heel and ascend the stairway. "You're leaving me?" she gasps, voice hurt, strangled. "Here? After..." You don't care what she means. This evening is at an end. "farewell, Bloodwyn. I've no intention of playing your twisted game any longer." you reply, regarding her over your shoulder. Bloodwyn steps back, away from you, hurt and betrayl twisting her delicate features into a mask of rage. She screams, screams with a fury you have not heard since Panhelios, and the darkness screams with her. The windows of the Luna Plina shatter inwards, showing the floor with glass and wood, and the shadows, the shadows pour in, a living, shrieking sea of cold anguish. The guests scatter, flee, screaming in animal terror, tapestries torn from walls, every torch extinguished, every table overturned in the black gale of Bloodwyn's anger. And then, as suddenly as it begun, it is over. The Long Hall You find yourself again in the long hall of the Luna Plina. But how the long hall has changed. The elegant stonework lies corroded, collapsed, the citadel and it's glory in abject ruin. Vines entangle themselves about the stairways and the roots of great trees upend the cobbles beneath your feet. As you look long into the night, you fancy you can see shapes, of people, or statues. In every direction is darkness. The candles no longer flicker. The sentinel still stands by the ruined August doorway, sadness graven onto his face. >x statues The darkness is heavy, but you yet discern the shapes of statues, of men, or women, standing frozen about the ruined citadel. You wonder, briefly, if you could go to them... but as you look at them directly, they seem to melt into the blackness, and merge as nothing with the shadow. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >save Ok. >bloodwyn, farewell You twist yourself from her grip, push her roughly away. The gaze of the crowd, the conflict you feel in yourself, the knowledge of what this woman has done, is too much to bear. She looks at you, eyes wide and glittering in the firelight, as you turn on your heel and ascend the stairway. "You're leaving me?" she gasps, voice hurt, strangled. "Here? After..." You don't care what she means. This evening is at an end. "farewell, Bloodwyn. I've no intention of playing your twisted game any longer." you reply, regarding her over your shoulder. Bloodwyn steps back, away from you, hurt and betrayl twisting her delicate features into a mask of rage. She screams, screams with a fury you have not heard since Panhelios, and the darkness screams with her. The windows of the Luna Plina shatter inwards, showing the floor with glass and wood, and the shadows, the shadows pour in, a living, shrieking sea of cold anguish. The guests scatter, flee, screaming in animal terror, tapestries torn from walls, every torch extinguished, every table overturned in the black gale of Bloodwyn's anger. And then, as suddenly as it begun, it is over. The Long Hall You find yourself again in the long hall of the Luna Plina. But how the long hall has changed. The elegant stonework lies corroded, collapsed, the citadel and it's glory in abject ruin. Vines entangle themselves about the stairways and the roots of great trees upend the cobbles beneath your feet. As you look long into the night, you fancy you can see shapes, of people, or statues. In every direction is darkness. The candles no longer flicker. The sentinel still stands by the ruined August doorway, sadness graven onto his face. >w The door to August lies shattered and empty. The chamber is in darkness. If it still exists at all. >w The door to August lies shattered and empty. The chamber is in darkness. If it still exists at all. >e You feel a shiver run down your spine. The candles are extinguished. You cannot find your way. >l The Long Hall You find yourself again in the long hall of the Luna Plina. But how the long hall has changed. The elegant stonework lies corroded, collapsed, the citadel and it's glory in abject ruin. Vines entangle themselves about the stairways and the roots of great trees upend the cobbles beneath your feet. As you look long into the night, you fancy you can see shapes, of people, or statues. In every direction is darkness. The candles no longer flicker. The sentinel still stands by the ruined August doorway, sadness graven onto his face. >x vines Plant life crunches beneath your feet. Vines and trees enthrone themselves upon the glittering glory of the Luna Plina. >u The shadow is deep. You can see no way through the darkness. Perhaps it doesn't end at all. >n The shadow is deep. You can see no way through the darkness. Perhaps it doesn't end at all. >s The shadow is deep. You can see no way through the darkness. Perhaps it doesn't end at all. >jump revelry never was your strong point. >d The shadow is deep. You can see no way through the darkness. Perhaps it doesn't end at all. >u The shadow is deep. You can see no way through the darkness. Perhaps it doesn't end at all. >l The Long Hall You find yourself again in the long hall of the Luna Plina. But how the long hall has changed. The elegant stonework lies corroded, collapsed, the citadel and it's glory in abject ruin. Vines entangle themselves about the stairways and the roots of great trees upend the cobbles beneath your feet. As you look long into the night, you fancy you can see shapes, of people, or statues. In every direction is darkness. The candles no longer flicker. The sentinel still stands by the ruined August doorway, sadness graven onto his face. >x shapes The darkness is heavy, but you yet discern the shapes of statues, of men, or women, standing frozen about the ruined citadel. You wonder, briefly, if you could go to them... but as you look at them directly, they seem to melt into the blackness, and merge as nothing with the shadow. >x citadel You can't see any such thing. >x sentinet You can't see any such thing. >x sentine; You can't see any such thing. >x sentinel The sentinel remains unchanged, though the citadel has fallen around him. He regards you gravely. >talk to him You open your mouth, but the words refuse to come. The world, again, has ceased to make sense to you. "Things did not unfold as you had hoped, Lord Hakuin?" asks the doorkeeper, simply. "What is....what became of the citadel?" you stammer. "Nothing." replies the sentinel, with mild surprise. "I thought you were aware of that, Lord. Do you play chess?" he asks suddenly. "There is a board-stone here somewhere-" You shake your head in confusion, lay a trembling hand upon cold, ruined stone. "I don't understand." you whisper. the sentinel smiles, thinly. "Do not mourn." he says. "Soon it will be August again, so it will. Perhaps your lady friend shall return for the Wake... Do you wish to play white or black? I am thinking black." "August?..." the word dies on your lips. "Not so long." sighs the old man, seating himself on the broken flagstones. "Not so long to wait for a second chance." *** August has ended *** In that game you scored 0 out of a possible 0, in 88 turns. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > restore Ok. >kiss bloodwyn Would you kiss the viper? Or caress the scorpion? No. And neither shall you touch your lips to this creature, whose venom would rival either. >touch bloodwyn Keep your hands to yourself! >l The August Chamber The August chamber seems to darken as you whirl with the music, arm in arm with the Lady uninvited. A dance of predator and prey, a graceful struggle. A dance not unlike the one which you thought had ended in her death. The celebration continues, though perhaps a little more subdued than before. Only Cathbad, who is amused, and the minstrels, who are oblivious, are not affected by the presence of Bloodwyn. Or by your percieved association with her. >x bloodwyn Gone is the jagged black armor and weapons of war. Gone the cobalt raiment of the god of death. Bloodwyn is a pale and fragile child, skin of alabaster, delicate and beautiful, clad in gown and gloves of thin white silk and lace, her hair a floating river of softest scarlet. But her eyes are ungentle, and they burn with some dark, nameless fire, reminding you that she is far from weakness, and further still from innocence. >i You wear a simple black outfit consisting of cloak, breeches, boots and tunic. You carry your cloak. >give cloak to bloodwyn "Thank you. But had I wanted such a thing," says Bloodwyn, pushing your hand away and smiling gently, "I would have taken it from you by now." >take off breeches You take off your breeches. >take off boots You take off your boots. >take off tunic You take off your tunic. >i You wear a simple black outfit consisting of cloak, breeches, boots and tunic. You carry your cloak, your breeches, your tunic and your boots. >give all to bloodwyn You can't use multiple objects with that verb. >give boots to bloodwyn "Thank you. But had I wanted such a thing," says Bloodwyn, pushing your hand away and smiling gently, "I would have taken it from you by now." >ask bloodwyn about cloak The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. "I don't know anything I haven't already told you." she replies. >x music A half-dozen minstrels sit atop the August stage, piping, playing, weaving pleasant melodies as the crowd cavorts to their song below. You recognize Byron, strumming his lute as usual... the others are unknown to you. >ask her about byron (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. >ask her about music (Bloodwyn about that) You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. >ask her about her (Bloodwyn about that) She looks to you, a twisted smile playing upon her lips. "I am Bloodwyn Dire." she says simply. "The most hated thing to walk the earth in centuries. And you wish to know me?" You nod. Memories crowd your mind...Nosthomak...Ur...the war....Bloodwyn, invading and falling from, Panhelios... "I suppose," she says, "you would like me to be flattered." She stirs against you, as though fighting some conflict within herself. The shadows leap and writhe. This entire scene is dreamlike, unreal. "Ask, then." she says at last. "But know well where you tread, crusader." >ask her about nosthomak (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. "Nosthomak..." the name of the cursed city drips unreadily from your tongue. She grins, sensing your unease, raises her lips to your ear as you glide arm in arm. "It terrifies you." She whispers, "because you do not understand it." She seems pleased, cocky, as though she knows something you do not. >g (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. "Come, then." you say flatly. "Enlighten me. Tell me of it. As it is in your eyes." Those dark and drowning eyes... She smirks, guides you both closer to the musician's platform. "Old." she whispers in your ear. "Very old. And peaceful. The stonework, the cobbles, the arches, all inlaid with ancient carvings, of such intricacy as you could scarcely imagine. The roots of great trees broke apart whole buildings, and no one dared cut them down. There were statues, hundreds of them, everywhere, in every place... dark and twisted... as though all the people who once dwelt in the city had simply turned to stone." Her breathing slows, deepens. She closes her eyes. "It was beautiful." >g (Bloodwyn about that) "The topic is one I find completely lacking in interest." states Bloodwyn, flatly. >ask her about ur (Bloodwyn about that) "You turned the temple of Ur into a cult of war." you murmur. "Well." she smiles. "So I did." >g (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. "I know little of the god of death." you say, glancing about at the citadel." Bloodwyn gives a bark of bitter laughter. "I think you know enough." she says. >g (Bloodwyn about that) "I know little of the god of death." you say, glancing about at the citadel." Bloodwyn gives a bark of bitter laughter. "I think you know enough." she says. >ask her about war (Bloodwyn about that) The question wells up in you, spills to the surface in anger. "Why, Bloodwyn?" you demand hotly. "Why the invasions? The blood, the massacres, the suffering?" Why did we have to be enemies? You shake your head. "Your cruelty is beyond my comprehension." She looks up at you then, eyes suddenly tense and deeply pained. "Once," she says "I would have laughed at such a question coming from a crusader. How times have changed." she chuckles, but the sound is mirthless and hollow. "I just..." she pulls herself tighter to you, clenches her hands into fists, face suddenly contorted with emotion. "I was just so full of..." You wait for the outpour, for the tears to come. But they never do. In an instant, the openness is gone, doors slammed shut, her face cool and composed. But her eyes speak volumes. Rage. Sadness. And fear. >ask her about war (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. Bloodwyn guides your step to one side. "Talk about something else." she tells you. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about enemies (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about tears (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about crusader (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about full (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about eyes (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. >ask her about fear (Bloodwyn about that) "You have changed," you say, taking her pointed chin in your fingertips and looking into her eyes. And for a moment see not the baleful gaze of the daemoness, but of a poor, forsaken and wretched child. "since Panhelios. I see great fear in you, Bloodwyn Dire." "Perhaps." she replies. She holds your gaze cooly, but her eyes burn with nameless fire. "Or perhaps you are the one who has changed, Hakuin. Perhaps you now see things to which you were once blind." her voice is rough, emotional. >ask her about blind (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about child (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. The question takes her off guard. "My childhood in Nosthomak was... lonely. After my mother died, I spent most of my hours in the temple of Ur, learning his way, or that of the sword." Her grin blooms dangerously, her face half-silhouetted in the firelight. "I would often imagine myself the child of death. And that one day, I would rule his temple and followers." she laughs bitterly. "And so I did." > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about me (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. "Bloodwyn..." you are more shocked than she at your use of her first name. "Why me? Why have you sought me out? To kill me? Is this vengeance for Panhelios? A last dance for the condemned man?" She says nothing, but her grip on your arm tenses. "That's not important now, Hakuin." she says at length. "Just dance with me. Please." Your doubt shows in your eyes, but you continue, falling into step as the music rises. Bloodwyn sighs. "Pretend it's your dear Lady Rosalyn, if it makes you feel any better." she mocks. The tone in her voice is unmistakable. Contempt, yes. But jealousy?... >ask her about jealousy (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about rosalyn (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. Bloodwyn guides your step to one side. "Talk about something else." she tells you. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about dance (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. She watches your expression, seems to know the course of your thoughts. "Do you know what this night is called?" she asks softly. You shake your head. "Nakh el sekhlorim" she says, almost wistfully. "The dance of unquiet souls." She falls silent then, swaying in step, perhaps brooding on some shadowy thought. >ask her about souls (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about nakh (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about dance (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. She watches your expression, seems to know the course of your thoughts. "Do you know what this night is called?" she asks softly. You shake your head. "Nakh el sekhlorim" she says, almost wistfully. "The dance of unquiet souls." She falls silent then, swaying in step, perhaps brooding on some shadowy thought. >ask her about brood (Bloodwyn about that) You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. >ask her about her (Bloodwyn about that) Bloodwyn guides your step to one side. "Talk about something else." she tells you. >ask her about childhood (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. The question takes her off guard. "My childhood in Nosthomak was... lonely. After my mother died, I spent most of my hours in the temple of Ur, learning his way, or that of the sword." Her grin blooms dangerously, her face half-silhouetted in the firelight. "I would often imagine myself the child of death. And that one day, I would rule his temple and followers." she laughs bitterly. "And so I did." >ask her about ur (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. "I know little of the god of death." you say, glancing about at the citadel." Bloodwyn gives a bark of bitter laughter. "I think you know enough." she says. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about temple (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about death (Bloodwyn about that) A shift in mood, in mind. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about rule (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about child (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. "There is nothing more to say." she says, calmly. "The other acolytes hated me. I had little to do with them." >ask her about acolytes (Bloodwyn about that) You are uncertain of quite how to phrase your question. >talk to bloodwyn >ask bloodwyn about here "What do you know about this place? The Luna Plina?" you ask. "I know it was built by the children of Ur." she twists, takes the lead as the waltz gathers tempo. "And that it was intended as a looking-glass into his realm." Ur...the god of death... A powerful breeze blows in from the Long Hall, rustling the corner of one of the tapestries. >look behind tapestry Lifting the corner of one of the tapestries, you find a chiselled relief of Ur, god of death. The tapestries must have been added during the redecoration, to further conceal the origins of the August chamber. >[At this point, I got a walkthrough] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >[Since I was otherwise considering TXD.] That's not a verb I recognise. >tell her about promise (Bloodwyn about that) The music switches pace, and your conversation with it. Bloodwyn looks up at you, irritated. "You seem to be boring me, Ikthanadar." she murmurs. >undo The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >ask her about fear (Bloodwyn about that) A randomness in the dance, pervading every thought. "What is it, Bloodwyn?" you ask, softly. "What fear is this that haunts you so?" She makes no reply, but huddles closer to you, hides her face. Her fingertips slip along your arm, find your broken wrist. "Do you remember?" she whispers. You remember. You open your eyes, feverish. The fall was not long. But it was hard. Sickening pain in your leg - it won't move - doesn't feel right inside. And she leaps down from the brink, lands lightly a short distance away, stalks languidly toward you. Her blade bright and burning. Her victory assured. Her smile the triumph of death. And then she screams. She clutches at her leg, twists, her body contorting in mortal agony. She stumbles, once, twice, her boot scrapes the cliff's edge, you catch a glimpse of a familiar dagger, bloodied, protruding from her heel - she falls - And this is the part no one ever saw. She swings, suspended, writhing, legs kicking at nothing, and miles below, the crags beckon like the brutal fangs of some great beast. Your right hand clings desperately to the rock, your left to her slender wrist, but your grip is weak and growing weaker still. She screams obscenities, thrashing in your grip, calling you hideous, terrible things. You shout at her to drop her sword, to take your hand and climb as her weight slowly drags you with her over the edge. Still, she clings to the blade, struggling, enraged. You order her, plead with her, beg her to climb, to let you save her. Her face twists, contorts, her eyes burning into you like hot coals. She throws back her head, she screams, frustration, confusion, betrayal, rage, anguish, the blade swings, flashes and pain and blood the scream as she falls echoing with your own and you stumble backward clutching at agony your hand gone blood "Why?" You blink away the burning memories, the pain. You ever wanted to ask that of her. Ever since that dread day, this one word, this fell and formless question has haunted your unquiet soul. Bloodwyn laughs, her thin shoulders trembling....but not with the cruelty you once saw in her heart. Her voice is hoarse, and her eyes glitter with unshed tears. "Why?" she echoes. "Why, why why?" she sniffs, rests her cheek against your cloak. "Have I not asked myself the same question ever since that day? Thinking of what might have been, if only..." Her voice chokes with grief, breath quick and shallow. She closes her eyes, holds you more tightly still. "I never even knew why you tried, I just...I couldn't bear it. It hurt so much, I couldn't..." She clutches you, desperately, shaking with her sorrow. "Oh, Hakuin, no one, no one, you were the only person who ever showed me any.....who thought I was...was worth..." The pain overwhelms her completely, and the tears come, pouring freely as the dance slows to nothing. "There was no ledge." you murmur. "I saw. No one could have survived that fall." "No." she weeps, utterly forsaken. "No one. And afterwards, as I wandered, a shadow, all alone... I thought it would end, but the nightmares and the pain, it just kept...nothing changed." she looks at you, drowning eyes, drowning heart. "I didn't know where else to go." she whispers, collapsing into her misery once more. The shadows deepen, the music grows faint. Guests turn their heads away, some in disgust, others... so that their companions would not see the tears falling slowly from their own eyes. August is nearly over. The August Chamber The August chamber is slowly growing colder, emptier, the guests silent, waiting, waiting for August to end. Ladies kiss their Lords with tearful farewells, the bitter-sweet knowledge of parting, fathers wish their children well. The fear of Bloodwyn Dire has become just another shadow in the Luna Plina. And Bloodwyn herself clings to you, gently tugging your arm toward the east, uncertain of whether she, too, will be bid farewell. Only Cathbad still loiters at his table, regarding the scene with quiet solemnity. >e Bloodwyn's spirit lifts, fear falling from her, as you let her lead you toward the Long Hall. Her body seems almost to glow with a heavenly white light in the deeper darkness, a pallid wisp, dancing joyously to the peak of the marble stairway. And you with her, ever by her side, a hope found when all hope seemed lost. And then you reach the threshold of the Luna Plina. The sentinel turns to you, and slowly, silently, nods his head. And finally, you understand. You lie in the dust, the cruel sun blazing overhead, grit and ashes whirling with the breeze. The servants of the bloodmaid have fallen to empty suits of armor, a sickly rust pouring from their broken husks. Rosalyn, sweet Rosalyn, she comes to you, alive and whole, falls to her knees in the blood-caked dirt...you try to urge her away, lest her clothing become soiled, but your arms refuse to obey. She holds you, cradles your head in her hands as you did her father not long ago. She speaks your name, proclaims her love, the happiness you have brought her, her pride in knowing you. You must live, Hakuin, she begs you, we will marry in the August - we will retire to the Luna Plina for the Wake - we can see my father, then, have his blessing....Please, you must promise...promise me.... You smile. Poor, perfect Rosalyn, yes, I so promise... I will attend the Luna Plina come the end of August... attend your quiant little gathering.... no matter.. how insipid.... She speaks to you, but her voice is distant, so distant... Oh Hakuin love please no father is gone I need you Felicity needs you no you can't not now you were my love our hope please you cant you mustn't I WON'T LET YOU die. And then it just stops. "And so it was" she sobs, "You were my death and I yours. Stay with me, Hakuin." she begs you, weeping, as you stand frozen in shock. "I no longer know what waits out there for you or I, but I don't care. I just can't stand to be alone any more. Please, please don't leave me alone..." Slowly, very clowly, your arm curls about her trembling body. The shadows swell, whispering their ancient truths. Felicity. The lotus. The Wake of August. Bloodwyn takes your hand, pulls toward the east, where the darkness beckons. Her eyes plead and promise. But should you remain with her...who is to say you would have peace? Is it better to bid her farewell?... The Long Hall The long hall of the Luna Plina is not as brightly lit as it once was. The torches remain darkened, and in their stead, a series of candles flicker wanly at the edges of the floor , lighting the way to August like pallid wisps. But August is over. Sentinel Tsi stands unobtrusively nearby, face expressionless as ever. >undo The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >kiss her (Bloodwyn) You take her hand in yours, press your lips gently to the soft surface of her glove. She turns, crying out, throws herself into your arms. Her lips burn against yours as you fold yourself about her, granting her the need, the comfort that she never found in life. "Is this love?" she breathes nervously, trembling, into your ear. "Or a dream of love? Or both?" her laughter is both bitter and sweet as you simply pull her closer in reply. "Come away with me, Hakuin!" she cries, then, pulling you toward the east. "Let us leave this place behind! We have forever, now. Come!" >e Bloodwyn's spirit lifts, fear falling from her, as you let her lead you toward the Long Hall. Her body seems almost to glow with a heavenly white light in the deeper darkness, a pallid wisp, dancing joyously to the peak of the marble stairway. And you with her, ever by her side, a hope found when all hope seemed lost. And then you reach the threshold of the Luna Plina. The sentinel turns to you, and slowly, silently, nods his head. And finally, you understand. You lie in the dust, the cruel sun blazing overhead, grit and ashes whirling with the breeze. The servants of the bloodmaid have fallen to empty suits of armor, a sickly rust pouring from their broken husks. Rosalyn, sweet Rosalyn, she comes to you, alive and whole, falls to her knees in the blood-caked dirt...you try to urge her away, lest her clothing become soiled, but your arms refuse to obey. She holds you, cradles your head in her hands as you did her father not long ago. She speaks your name, proclaims her love, the happiness you have brought her, her pride in knowing you. You must live, Hakuin, she begs you, we will marry in the August - we will retire to the Luna Plina for the Wake - we can see my father, then, have his blessing....Please, you must promise...promise me.... You smile. Poor, perfect Rosalyn, yes, I so promise... I will attend the Luna Plina come the end of August... attend your quiant little gathering.... no matter.. how insipid.... She speaks to you, but her voice is distant, so distant... Oh Hakuin love please no father is gone I need you Felicity needs you no you can't not now you were my love our hope please you cant you mustn't I WON'T LET YOU die. And then it just stops. "And so it was" she sobs, "You were my death and I yours. Stay with me, Hakuin." she begs you, weeping, as you stand frozen in shock. "I no longer know what waits out there for you or I, but I don't care. I just can't stand to be alone any more. Please, please don't leave me alone..." Slowly, very clowly, your arm curls about her trembling body. The shadows swell, whispering their ancient truths. Felicity. The lotus. The Wake of August. Bloodwyn takes your hand, pulls toward the east, where the darkness beckons. Her eyes plead and promise. But should you remain with her...who is to say you would have peace? Is it better to bid her farewell?... The Long Hall The long hall of the Luna Plina is not as brightly lit as it once was. The torches remain darkened, and in their stead, a series of candles flicker wanly at the edges of the floor , lighting the way to August like pallid wisps. But August is over. Sentinel Tsi stands unobtrusively nearby, face expressionless as ever. >e She hesitates, just for a moment, as you approach the gateway of the citadel. But fear fades as you take her hand, touch it to your lips. "I don't care what's out there." she whispers, squeezing your palm tight. "Not if you're with me." And thus, turning, she steps over the threshold. And gasps. Both of you stop still, eyes wide in astonishment and wonder. A vast, endless line of burning candles leads on into the night, tracing a pale and flickering pathway over grass and knoll, winding by rock and river and on, ever onward into the shadowed vastness of a great and distant forest. Bloodwyn squeals in newfound and innocent delight, and, lifting up her gown, runs barefoot and laughing into the darkness, following the ghostly trail without pause. Invigorated, you let loose a mighty whoop and pursue her, tearing off your cloak and letting it run into the shadows. Over hill you run, and dale, together, alive with the laughter and life of a newfound home and freedom. Nighttime birds float above, singing your names in honeyed tongues. Spirits whisper as you dance endlessly amongst the trees, who bend their boughs to the earth, strong and silent amidst the coupling of shadows. Come August night, you will water the lotus as ever, and bring forth their harvest. And within the forest, they would hear that you had been there, laughing at fate. Draped within a love that could not change. And ever by her side. Always, by her side. *** August has ended *** In that game you scored 0 out of a possible 0, in 112 turns. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > undo The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] >bloodwyn, farewell You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >w The August chamber is darkened, empty. Perhaps it no longer exists at all. >n Bloodwyn pulls you to her, and the meaning of her expression is clear. If you mean to enter the shadow, you must do so alone. >talk to sentinet You can't see any such thing. >talk to sentinel "You seem shaken, milord." states the sentinel mildly. "But from your expression I see that the night has proven satisfactory. I wish you both luck in your journeyings, wherever they may take you." He smiles, then, broadly. "Perhaps I will see you both again next year" And then he is gone, fading into the shadows as if he had never been there at all. >l The Long Hall The long hall of the Luna Plina is not as brightly lit as it once was. The torches remain darkened, and in their stead, a series of candles flicker wanly at the edges of the floor , lighting the way to August like pallid wisps. But August is over. >x bloodwyn You can't see any such thing. >bloodwyn, farewell You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The Long Hall [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn The August Chamber [Previous turn undone.] >talk to cathbad You bid Bloodwyn wait a moment, as you turn to the counsel of the heretic. Cathbad's eyebrows shoot upward as you approach. "Noo what are ye doin' wastin' time with an oold man when ye've a perfectly sweet lass tae turn yer attentions tae?" he grins, a slight sadness in his eyes. "You knew she would come, didn't you, heretic." you ask, smiling. "You knew she would seek me here... a lonely spirit, seeking someone to understand..." "Aye." replies Cathbad, gravely. "That's what the Wake of August is all aboot, lad. The lost seeking love. The lotus blooms, we taste of death, and the dead taste of life." "And now it's over." you reply, sweeping your arm toward the window. "Midnight comes. August has ended. Will she go alone into that dark night? The living cannot walk with the dead." Cathbad fixes you with his eye. "Ye doon't remember, do ye?" he asks, curiously. "What are you babbling about, heretic?" you whisper, suddenly cold. His manner is- Bloodwyn slips her slender hand into yours. You turn, face your reflection in her eyes. And for one final time, you remember. You lie in the dust, the cruel sun blazing overhead, grit and ashes whirling with the breeze. The servants of the bloodmaid have fallen to empty suits of armor, a sickly rust pouring from their broken husks. Rosalyn, sweet Rosalyn, she comes to you, alive and whole, falls to her knees in the blood-caked dirt...you try to urge her away, lest her clothing become soiled, but your arms refuse to obey. She holds you, cradles your head in her hands as you did her father not long ago. She speaks your name, proclaims her love, the happiness you have brought her, her pride in knowing you. You must live, Hakuin, she begs you, we will marry in the August - we will retire to the Luna Plina for the Wake - we can see my father, then, have his blessing....Please, you must promise...promise me.... You smile. Poor, perfect Rosalyn, yes, I so promise... I will attend the Luna Plina come the end of August... attend your quiant little gathering.... no matter.. how insipid.... She speaks to you, but her voice is distant, so distant... Oh Hakuin love please no father is gone I need you Felicity needs you no you can't not now you were my love our hope please you cant you mustn't I WON'T LET YOU die. And then it just stops. "And so it was" she sobs, "You were my death and I yours. Stay with me, Hakuin." she begs you, weeping, as you stand frozen in shock. "I no longer know what waits out there for you or I, but I don't care. I just can't stand to be alone any more. Please, please don't leave me alone..." Slowly, very clowly, your arm curls about her trembling body. The shadows swell, whispering their ancient truths. Felicity. The lotus. The Wake of August. Bloodwyn takes your hand, pulls toward the east, where the darkness beckons. Her eyes plead and promise. But should you remain with her...who is to say you would have peace? Is it better to bid her farewell?... >bloodwyn, farewell "Goodbye??" her face is sick and pale, tears continue to run from her eyes as she faces you in the darkness. "After all this, you would simply cast me aside? Oh, god, I was a damned fool to think anyone could love m-" "Hush, Bloodwyn." you say, gently. "Hush. I do love you. It is for that love that we must part here." "No!" she sobs, agonised, clutching at you. "I belong with you!" years of filth and hate and burning please Hakuin please.... "Bloodwyn, I do not know what awaits us after this night. Judgement, or bliss, or oblivion... But how can we remain here, to walk the earth as shadows, with the memory of war so hot in our minds?" you sigh. "Rather I would grant you peace. grant us both peace." She steps back, still clutching your hand in hers. "Never forget me." she whispers. "Please promise me that much." You step back, draw the cloak around you one last time, let it fall. It melts into the shadows, which open for you, beckoning. "I so promise." you tell her, then smile. "And there's always August." "Yes." she sobs, broken, but understanding. "There's always August." *** August has ended *** In that game you scored 0 out of a possible 0, in 112 turns. Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > quit