Start of a transcript of Sparrow's Song A Smoochie Comp Entry by J.D. Berry (berryx@earthlink.net) This game is freeware (Type 'about' at any > prompt). (An 'overview' is recommended for your first go.) Release 1 / Serial number 010122 / Inform v6.21 Library 6/10 Standard interpreter 1.0 (6F) / Library serial number 991113 > [OK, so the trick is: Don't ask the beholder about the keep, or you can only enter the shrine once.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >treaty? "Are you ready to fly? Or were you thinking to decline? It's not an easy choice, and I will respect you either way," he says. >dining Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Dining Room This focus of this room is the nearly endless cherrywood table, every other item is virtually unnoticeable. [Nearby locations: Hall] Arctos is here, as busy as ever. Arctos inspects the alignment of a place setting. >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. >teleport? "That's a possibility I hadn't thought of," he says ending his sentence with a preposition but without a proposition. Arctos gives you his typical "everything's under control" look, then gets back to work. >g "Why are you asking ME about that?" he wonders. >good That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >good? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >topic Caveat Orator: The part of your brain that comes up with these takes no responsibility for their use. Also, because you're in love, it sometimes repeats itself. Giddiness will do that. treaty? dining? tilson? >tilson? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. The chamberlain methodically puts down a new place setting. >treaty? "Just let it drop, Kellen," he says. Arctos wonders aloud about which cheeses should be served. >dining? "Everything needs to be in place for tomorrow, Kellen," Arctos says. The chamberlain methodically puts down a new place setting. >topic You think of arctos? dogs? >g You think of work? sex? work? >g You think of love? me? council? >g You think of tilson? sex? >me? "I don't know WHO you are today, my good man" Arctos says with a mock puzzled look and his eyes rolled." >dining? "I THINK we have all the items we'll need," he says. The chamberlain methodically puts down a new place setting. >topic You think of hello? >hello? "Didn't you already tell me that?" he says. "Maybe not. I suppose I'm getting old." >hello? "Now I KNOW you told me that," he growls. The chamberlain methodically puts down a new place setting. >topic You think of hello? >topic You think of work? >topic You think of religion? treaty? >topic You think of arctos? treaty? >religion? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. >treasury Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] You drift down the stairs thinking of HER. Not realizing you've reached the bottom, you... You awake staring at a large eye. You blink. The eye, taking up half of a floating "head" with many little eyestalks on top, doesn't. "Xyzzy," it growls through a wicked mouth near its 'bottom'. "The password is 'xyzzy.' The next time I may gaze death and not sleep." This exotic being you call Pyzynk (which is as close as you can come to its pronunciation) has served your family for generations. Pyzynk looms as ominously as ever, always with a disturbingly malevolent and highly intelligent manner. It serves under contract, however. It has never harmed a Moorwick. Whatever its ultimate intentions are, it seems to like you as much as its kind is capable of liking another being. You think? "Great," Pyzynk growls as it probes your head with a ray from another one of its little eyestalks, "the master of the manor is in love." Treasury If a thief somehow managed to defeat Pyzynk, he would not be disappointed with the rewards of his efforts. Valuables of all types are here, each neatly organized and stored. [Nearby locations: Hall] You can't help but notice Pyzynk here. The great beholder hovers menacingly. >love? You start to dismiss the topic, but your current mood decides "why not?" Pyzynk surprises you with more than just a curt growl. "Most creatures share this concept and feel its emotion deeply. Most members of most races think love is unique to their own kind. It is not. Its manifestation and frequency may be different, but its core is the same." Pyzynk asks you a question but doesn't recieve an answer. If you hadn't been daydreaming, you would have seen one of the rarest of all sights--a beholder rolling its eye. >giants? "The Ronqons are a curious race to observe. They have qualities and features of many 'intelligent' creatures and yet are unique unto themselves." Pyzynk growls information in, as it calls them, human-sized bites. >giants? "The world can be thankful that Ronqons have two confining features. First, they are, for whatever reasons nature chose, able to live only in mountainous regions." Several of Pyzynk's eyestalks stand and fall. >giants? Pyzynk continues, "Second, Ronqons and magic are mostly incompatible. While this does add to their defenses, it further hinders expansion--culturally as well as geographically--for their people." Pyzynk rotates horizontally, its main eye circumnagivating until it once again stares at you. You have known Pyzynk long enough to know this means it has, for now, said all it will say on a subject. Pyzynk asks you a question but doesn't recieve an answer. If you hadn't been daydreaming, you would have seen one of the rarest of all sights--a beholder rolling its eye. >love? "The level of love I sensed in you is of the magnitude that changes worlds," it growls. If anyone else had said that, you would have dismissed the words as poetic hyperbole. >love? "I say this contractually only, because not only are you not really listening, but also humans in your state are usually unable to comply. Factor your extreme emotional state into your decisions in the upcoming days." You nod dreamily, thinking of HER. Pyzynk rotates horizontally, its main eye circumnagivating until it once again stares at you. >sparrow? You relate your encounter with the sparrow to Pyzynk. It shakes for a moment, indicating a deep think. "Well, based on the evidence and your personal nature, I'd say, most likely, you encountered a wizard's familiar--creatures who act as another set of eyes and ears for their masters. Small birds often serve that role and are capable of communicating in preternatural ways. It is said the bond between familiar and master is very strong." >sparrow? "The sparrows have recently arrived from the mountains as part of their annual migration," it growls in a seemingly non sequitur way. Pyzynk rotates horizontally, its main eye circumnagivating until it once again stares at you. >shrine Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Shrine This is the section of the shrine where visitors are received. Translucent dividers separate this 'room' from the rest of the building. Occasionally, a shadow of one of the animal inhabitants moves past. [Nearby locations: Keep] "Be with you in just a second," Tilson calls out from nearby. >l Shrine This is the section of the shrine where visitors are received. Translucent dividers separate this 'room' from the rest of the building. Occasionally, a shadow of one of the animal inhabitants moves past. [Nearby locations: Keep] Tilson appears from another section of the building. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Baron," Tilson says. "Your presence is always welcome here." Tilson invites you to initiate a topic. >decline That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >decline? "I fully understand, and I respect your decision," Tilson says. The cleric observes his surroundings, but nothing in his manner suggests his reaction. >tower Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Cordelia's Tower The first level, the only place where visitors are allowed, seems not to be made of the same stone the rest of the tower is. Whether this is a trick of magic or artistry, Cordelia isn't the type to reveal the answer. [Nearby locations: Keep] >teleport? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Cordelia enters the room. "Oh, you startled me. I didn't hear you enter," she says. >teleport? "So you're ready are you? OK, then. It's the mountains over there, right?" she points. "I'll get you there, but no guarantees about the exact location." With that she begins to chant and gesture, chant and gesture. The last thing you hear in her presence is a crackling sound. And without another moment... Bottom of a Roc's Nest Nice teleporting, Cordelia... This gigantic nest is made of trees. Not just a tree's branches or twigs or leaves, but whole trees. They are attached to each other by some sort of gooey substance--the less analysis the better. You're also not sure if the foul odor you smell coming from the trees is from the goo or if it's from something else. [Nearby locations: Top of Nest] (If you thought being teleported to a gigantic nest in who knows where was enough to wipe the goofy smile off your face, you thought wrong.) >x goop That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >x goo Whatever it is, you'd rather not touch it. >x tree This gigantic nest is made of trees. Not just a tree's branches or twigs or leaves, but whole trees. They are attached to each other by some sort of gooey substance--the less analysis the better. You're also not sure if the foul odor you smell coming from the trees is from the goo or if it's from something else. [Nearby locations: Top of Nest] >smell The smell is not at all a clean one, although you can't trace the origin. >top Your climb is an easy but time-consuming one. Top of a Roc's Nest Perched on a jutting boulder from the top of one of many nearby mountains, the nest offers a view to inspire awe. Below all of the harsh grandeur, a lush, pristine glade rests amid a foreboding forest. Perhaps everything was painted there by a master artist. [Nearby locations: Bottom of Nest, Glade] >x mountain The same mountains you viewed as a peaceful beauty from your bedroom window massively intimidate you now. They are no longer a pretty backdrop, they are a force of bold uncaring. The closer you are to them, the more you want to get away. >x boulder That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >glade It's a looooong way down. You're pretty sure you have an item in your inventory to save you, but Cordelia is pretty and you saw where that got you. This time, though, you're literally between a roc's nest and a hard glade. >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty a simple walking stick (that you're not pretending to use like a bow right now) your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty a gnarled staff (gripped tightly) your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty an "unbreakable" walking stick (unconsciously being tapped) your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty the psychological crutch you call a walking stick your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty your trusty walking stick (nervously being twirled) your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty a simple walking stick (that you're not pretending to use like a bow right now) your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty a simple walking stick (that you're not pretending to use like a bow right now) your clothes (being worn) >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty your trusty walking stick (nervously being twirled) your clothes (being worn) >[That's hilarious!] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >jump Did you want to jump to your death to the bottom of the nest or to the glade? >glade It's too bad you didn't find any feathers in the nest. It would be comforting to have a piece of the roc as insurance from the fall. There'd certainly be no doubt that it would cover you. >glade You realize you have often used humor to avoid your real feelings; now you're ready to face your fears. Once more to the glade my friend, once more. >g All right... (Perhaps Pyzynk, unbeknownst to you, beamed the combinatorial explosion into your clothes the last time you visited the treasury?) It should have been death--your jumping off the nest--but the combinatorial explosion rips apart during your fall. Somehow, some way, a time-material distortion is not accounted for, something "skips", and you stand safely on the ground. Equally amiss is the fact the combinatorial explosion is in tact in your hands. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] (What WILL it take to wipe that smile off your face. You couldn't possibly still be in love?) (Could you?) >[in tact? shouldn't that be intact?] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. > Hot key -- Undo one turn Glade [Previous turn undone.] > Hot key -- Undo one turn Top of a Roc's Nest [Previous turn undone.] >x clothes Your clothing is practical, though all of it is of the highest quality. Your blue tunic proudly displays the Moorwick crest, a shield with three diagonal red stripes, on both front and back. Your gray pants are made of thick leather. Your boots are "old cavalry". Few wear that kind today, but you continue to do so because nothing else feels right. >x tunic Your blue tunic proudly displays the Moorwick crest, a shield with three diagonal red stripes, on both front and back. >x pants Your gray pants are made of thick leather. >x boots Your boots may be "old cavalry", but they are very comfortable. >jump Did you want to jump to your death to the bottom of the nest or to the glade? >yes That was a rhetorical question. >glade All right... (Perhaps Pyzynk, unbeknownst to you, beamed the combinatorial explosion into your clothes the last time you visited the treasury?) It should have been death--your jumping off the nest--but the combinatorial explosion rips apart during your fall. Somehow, some way, a time-material distortion is not accounted for, something "skips", and you stand safely on the ground. Equally amiss is the fact the combinatorial explosion is in tact in your hands. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] (What WILL it take to wipe that smile off your face. You couldn't possibly still be in love?) (Could you?) >i You are carrying: a combinatorial explosion an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty the psychological crutch you call a walking stick your clothes (being worn) >x explosion It looks just like a combinatorial explosion--unmanageable and nearly unimaginable. A shiver starts from your shoulder and carries down your spine. When you recover from the sensation, you begin your adoration a beautiful nymph. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >sing Singing seems like the proper thing to do in her presence. You don't even have a song in mind, but you don't need one. The words and notes flow. Early into your song, her flute voice dances with your baritone. The duet takes on a nature all its own. Even when you stop singing, the song seems to gently, slowly float away. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >dance That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >x nymph Words can no more describe her beauty than they could a siren's song. Perhaps that is the reason she is translucent--the proper materials do not exist that would fit her outline. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >x phrase That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >listen The rushing of the water is the only natural sound within the glade. Occasionally a tortured howling emanates from the woods. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >ronqon? "Ronqons were important to you in several ways, but no longer," she sings in oboe. >peace? "Having to make peace is alien to me," she sings in flute. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >love? "No words are ever necessary," she sings in piccolo. >sex? "Such is a natural expression of desire," she sings in piccolo. >squeeze nymph She gracefully manipulates your intentions, making you feel like your actions are natural and loving. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >i You are carrying: a combinatorial explosion an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty a simple walking stick (that you're not pretending to use like a bow right now) your clothes (being worn) She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >sign treaty You have your reasons--you sign things only at your desk. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >[oops] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >restore Ok. >decline That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >decline? "I fully understand, and I respect your decision," Tilson says. >bedroom Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Bedroom Your bedroom is quite modest for someone of nobility; still it's likely the largest in Hinter Keep. The main furnishings here--a bed, a desk, an armoire and a fireplace--are all of deceptive quality. Plain on first glance, they gradually reveal their exquisite workmanship. An opened bay window offers a view of most of the keep and, for the moment at least, a warm, spring breeze. [Nearby locations: Hall] >sign treaty You sign the treaty. Unless you can deliver it to the Ronqon chief by night, however, your action means nothing. >tower Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Cordelia's Tower The first level, the only place where visitors are allowed, seems not to be made of the same stone the rest of the tower is. Whether this is a trick of magic or artistry, Cordelia isn't the type to reveal the answer. [Nearby locations: Keep] >teleport? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Cordelia enters the room. "Oh, you startled me. I didn't hear you enter," she says. Cordelia asks you a council related question, and you respond. >g "So you're ready are you? OK, then. It's the mountains over there, right?" she points. "I'll get you there, but no guarantees about the exact location." With that she begins to chant and gesture, chant and gesture. The last thing you hear in her presence is a crackling sound. And without another moment... Bottom of a Roc's Nest Nice teleporting, Cordelia... This gigantic nest is made of trees. Not just a tree's branches or twigs or leaves, but whole trees. They are attached to each other by some sort of gooey substance--the less analysis the better. You're also not sure if the foul odor you smell coming from the trees is from the goo or if it's from something else. [Nearby locations: Top of Nest] (If you thought being teleported to a gigantic nest in who knows where was enough to wipe the goofy smile off your face, you thought wrong.) >top Your climb is an easy but time-consuming one. Top of a Roc's Nest Perched on a jutting boulder from the top of one of many nearby mountains, the nest offers a view to inspire awe. Below all of the harsh grandeur, a lush, pristine glade rests amid a foreboding forest. Perhaps everything was painted there by a master artist. [Nearby locations: Bottom of Nest, Glade] >glade It's a looooong way down. You're pretty sure you have an item in your inventory to save you, but Cordelia is pretty and you saw where that got you. This time, though, you're literally between a roc's nest and a hard glade. >g It's too bad you didn't find any feathers in the nest. It would be comforting to have a piece of the roc as insurance from the fall. There'd certainly be no doubt that it would cover you. >g You realize you have often used humor to avoid your real feelings; now you're ready to face your fears. Once more to the glade my friend, once more. >g All right... (Perhaps Pyzynk, unbeknownst to you, beamed the combinatorial explosion into your clothes the last time you visited the treasury?) It should have been death--your jumping off the nest--but the combinatorial explosion rips apart during your fall. Somehow, some way, a time-material distortion is not accounted for, something "skips", and you stand safely on the ground. Equally amiss is the fact the combinatorial explosion is in tact in your hands. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] (What WILL it take to wipe that smile off your face. You couldn't possibly still be in love?) (Could you?) >i You are carrying: a combinatorial explosion a signed Ronqon peace treaty a gnarled staff (gripped tightly) your clothes (being worn) >[combinatorial explosion is just silly.] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >x brook You see nothing special about the brook. A shiver starts from your shoulder and carries down your spine. When you recover from the sensation, you begin your adoration a beautiful nymph. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >['of a', probably. Also, that was abrupt.] You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom. >sing Singing seems like the proper thing to do in her presence. You don't even have a song in mind, but you don't need one. The words and notes flow. Early into your song, her flute voice dances with your baritone. The duet takes on a nature all its own. Even when you stop singing, the song seems to gently, slowly float away. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >woods The woods seem too foreboding. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >hit nymph She welcomes this action with a melody of piccolo. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >drink water The water is so cold that you are unable to keep your fingers in it for more than a few seconds. You taste some of the water from your hand; it's every bit as pure as you expected it to be. Her flute song takes you to despair, then slowly brings you back to love again. >enter water That's not something you can enter. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >spash me with water That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >put head in water That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >brook? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >water? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >council? "That many beings need to group is alien to me," she sings. >peace? "Having to make peace is alien to me," she sings in flute. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >dance That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >woods The woods seem too foreboding. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >woods? "Do not go near the woods, my lovely one," she sings in oboe. "They will destroy you." >g "Do not go near the woods, my lovely one," she sings in oboe. "They will destroy you." She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g "Do not go near the woods, my lovely one," she sings in oboe. "They will destroy you." She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g "Do not go near the woods, my lovely one," she sings in oboe. "They will destroy you." She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >sleep You aren't feeling drowsy. Dreamy, perhaps, but not at all drowsy. >dream That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >x nymph Words can no more describe her beauty than they could a siren's song. Perhaps that is the reason she is translucent--the proper materials do not exist that would fit her outline. Her flute song takes you to despair, then slowly brings you back to love again. >g Words can no more describe her beauty than they could a siren's song. Perhaps that is the reason she is translucent--the proper materials do not exist that would fit her outline. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >i You are carrying: a combinatorial explosion a signed Ronqon peace treaty the psychological crutch you call a walking stick your clothes (being worn) >give explosion to nymph Whoever or whatever created the combinatorial explosion apparently did not consider that possibility for it. >poke nymph (with the stick) Poking someone with a finger is viewed as bad manners. Poking with a stick is, well... She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >help No specific hints are available, but there are 'overview' and 'topics'. >overview "Sparrow's Song" is a short game written for Smoochie Comp 2001. You'll probably be able to finish in an hour or so. You can extend your playing time by stopping to smell, touch and even squeeze the flowers. Or, if there are no flowers, the monsters. Your game, your call. The first thing to note is the procedure for moving between game locations. Type in the name of the place where you wish to go. After most area descriptions is a list of nearby places. You are not necessarily restricted to only those places. If you are familiar with a more distant location, you can type that and attempt to go there. The second is conversation. Rather than the conventional 'ask cardboard cutout about unimplemented item', simply type a one-word topic followed immediately by a question mark. As a typically game-useless but point-conveying example, typing in dogs? MAY broach (or continue) the subject of dogs. The question mark does not necessarily indicate a question, although it usually does because, generally, player characters are more interested in gathering knowledge than relating it. (But NON-player characters are omniscient, uncaring, sarcastic folk who LIVE to serve you. Really. No, they mean that.) As a diplomat among other things, you'll find that you can almost always think of topics of conversation. The 'topics' command will search your chitchat 'database' for a few random possibilities. And as always, please, do not poke the beholder. >topics? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >topics Caveat Orator: The part of your brain that comes up with these takes no responsibility for their use. Also, because you're in love, it sometimes repeats itself. Giddiness will do that. dining? sex? zendar? >zendar? "I have no understanding of him," she sings. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >topics You think of dogs? work? >topics You think of sex? zendar? >topics You think of pyzynk? >zyzynk That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >xyzzy Xyzzy. Xyzzy... That seems familiar to you for a moment, but then your mind travels elsewhere. >pyzynk That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >pyzynk? "I have no understanding of it," she sings. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. >wash That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >clean (the nymph) She gracefully manipulates your intentions, making you feel like your actions are natural and loving. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >clean me If this day ends as happy as it has begun, your hands will get a well-deserved rest. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >z Time passes. The nymph caresses you as you stare contentedly. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. >woods The woods seem too foreboding. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g The woods seem too foreboding. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >g The woods seem too foreboding. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g The woods seem too foreboding. Her flute song takes you to despair, then slowly brings you back to love again. >g The woods seem too foreboding. >g The woods seem too foreboding. >g The woods seem too foreboding. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g The woods seem too foreboding. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >restore Ok. >decline That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >decline? "I fully understand, and I respect your decision," Tilson says. >bedroom Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Bedroom Your bedroom is quite modest for someone of nobility; still it's likely the largest in Hinter Keep. The main furnishings here--a bed, a desk, an armoire and a fireplace--are all of deceptive quality. Plain on first glance, they gradually reveal their exquisite workmanship. An opened bay window offers a view of most of the keep and, for the moment at least, a warm, spring breeze. [Nearby locations: Hall] >sign treaty You sign the treaty. Unless you can deliver it to the Ronqon chief by night, however, your action means nothing. >tower Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Cordelia's Tower The first level, the only place where visitors are allowed, seems not to be made of the same stone the rest of the tower is. Whether this is a trick of magic or artistry, Cordelia isn't the type to reveal the answer. [Nearby locations: Keep] >teleport? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Cordelia enters the room. "Oh, you startled me. I didn't hear you enter," she says. >teleport? "So you're ready are you? OK, then. It's the mountains over there, right?" she points. "I'll get you there, but no guarantees about the exact location." With that she begins to chant and gesture, chant and gesture. The last thing you hear in her presence is a crackling sound. And without another moment... Bottom of a Roc's Nest Nice teleporting, Cordelia... This gigantic nest is made of trees. Not just a tree's branches or twigs or leaves, but whole trees. They are attached to each other by some sort of gooey substance--the less analysis the better. You're also not sure if the foul odor you smell coming from the trees is from the goo or if it's from something else. [Nearby locations: Top of Nest] (If you thought being teleported to a gigantic nest in who knows where was enough to wipe the goofy smile off your face, you thought wrong.) >top Your climb is an easy but time-consuming one. Top of a Roc's Nest Perched on a jutting boulder from the top of one of many nearby mountains, the nest offers a view to inspire awe. Below all of the harsh grandeur, a lush, pristine glade rests amid a foreboding forest. Perhaps everything was painted there by a master artist. [Nearby locations: Bottom of Nest, Glade] >glade It's a looooong way down. You're pretty sure you have an item in your inventory to save you, but Cordelia is pretty and you saw where that got you. This time, though, you're literally between a roc's nest and a hard glade. >g It's too bad you didn't find any feathers in the nest. It would be comforting to have a piece of the roc as insurance from the fall. There'd certainly be no doubt that it would cover you. >g You realize you have often used humor to avoid your real feelings; now you're ready to face your fears. Once more to the glade my friend, once more. >g All right... (Perhaps Pyzynk, unbeknownst to you, beamed the locket into your clothes the last time you visited the treasury?) The word 'almost' is a wonderful part of the phrase 'almost certain death'. The locket sprouts wings when you're about halfway down, catching your hands underneath two small and sharp (but who's complaining?) talons. As you touch down, the wings fold impossibly back into the locket. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] (What WILL it take to wipe that smile off your face. You couldn't possibly still be in love?) (Could you?) >woods The woods seem too foreboding. >drink water The water is so cold that you are unable to keep your fingers in it for more than a few seconds. You taste some of the water from your hand; it's every bit as pure as you expected it to be. A shiver starts from your shoulder and carries down your spine. When you recover from the sensation, you begin your adoration a beautiful nymph. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >love? "No words are ever necessary," she sings in piccolo. >sing Singing seems like the proper thing to do in her presence. You don't even have a song in mind, but you don't need one. The words and notes flow. Early into your song, her flute voice dances with your baritone. The duet takes on a nature all its own. Even when you stop singing, the song seems to gently, slowly float away. >kiss nymph She absorbs your kiss passionately. >g She absorbs your kiss passionately. >hit nymph She welcomes this action with a melody of piccolo. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >hit nymph with stick I only understood you as far as wanting to hit the nymph. >attack nymph She welcomes this action with a melody of piccolo. >[that's just disturbing.] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >woods The woods seem too foreboding. The nymph caresses you as you stare contentedly. >drink water The water is so cold that you are unable to keep your fingers in it for more than a few seconds. You taste some of the water from your hand; it's every bit as pure as you expected it to be. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >i You are carrying: a jagged locket a signed Ronqon peace treaty the psychological crutch you call a walking stick your clothes (being worn) >x locket Anytime you look at this locket, you think of your dear sister. She gave it to you just before she went out into the unknown to experience the "great adventure." You haven't seen her since. Just above the jagged, bottom part, she inscribed magically in very small print: Little brother. No longer will I be able to protect you, but always shall I look after you. Love, Corwen. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >open it That's not something you can open. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. >i You are carrying: a jagged locket a signed Ronqon peace treaty your trusty walking stick (nervously being twirled) your clothes (being worn) >[It's a locket this time instead of a combinatorial explosion? Odd.] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >twirl stick That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >x clothes Your clothing is practical, though all of it is of the highest quality. Your blue tunic proudly displays the Moorwick crest, a shield with three diagonal red stripes, on both front and back. Your gray pants are made of thick leather. Your boots are "old cavalry". Few wear that kind today, but you continue to do so because nothing else feels right. >search clothes You find nothing of interest. >corwen? "She once passed this way but did not understand me," she sings in oboe. >take off clothes That would be inappropriate, now. Her flute song takes you to despair, then slowly brings you back to love again. >take off boots That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. >x mountains The same mountains you viewed as a peaceful beauty from your bedroom window massively intimidate you now. They are no longer a pretty backdrop, they are a force of bold uncaring. The closer you are to them, the more you want to get away. >woods The woods seem too foreboding. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >x stick This gnarled staff looks like nothing special. But it has stood up to such abuse over the years that you consider it unbreakable. And it's not a psychological crutch either... She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >show stick to nymph "Your brook," she sings in oboe. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >put stick in brook Sure, you can do that. Well, wait, no, maybe you won't just now. >g Sure, you can do that. Well, wait, no, maybe you won't just now. >g Sure, you can do that. Well, wait, no, maybe you won't just now. >throw stick Sure, you can do that. Well, wait, no, maybe you won't just now. >throw stick in woods Sure, you can do that. Well, wait, no, maybe you won't just now. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >x stick This gnarled staff looks like nothing special. But it has stood up to such abuse over the years that you consider it unbreakable. And it's not a psychological crutch either... She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >break stick Why try to break the unbreakable? She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >g Why try to break the unbreakable? She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >throw away stick That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >throw stick Sure, you can do that. Well, wait, no, maybe you won't just now. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >give stick to nymph "Of that I have no need," she sings in oboe. In rare moments like this, you get an ephemeral awareness that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. You feel a mantra from this activity. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >x mantra That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >l Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] A beautiful nymph enthralls you. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >woods The woods seem too foreboding. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >give stick to nymph "Of that I have no need," she sings in oboe. In rare moments like this, you get an ephemeral awareness that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. You feel a mantra from this activity. >mantra That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >x mantra That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >i You are carrying: a jagged locket a signed Ronqon peace treaty an "unbreakable" walking stick (unconsciously being tapped) your clothes (being worn) She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >x me You, Kellen of Moorwick, Baron of Hinter, are a distinguished and handsome gentleman in his mid 30s. Your natural, noble bearing is tinged with years of frontier life and its practicalities. And that big, goofy, "I'm in love" grin still hasn't come off. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >show stick to nymph "Your brook," she sings in oboe. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >stick? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >brook? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >drink brook The water is so cold that you are unable to keep your fingers in it for more than a few seconds. You taste some of the water from your hand; it's every bit as pure as you expected it to be. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >kick brook That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >hit brook Violence was the answer to this one, yesterday. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >mantra That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >sing mantra I only understood you as far as wanting to sing. >chant mantra That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >chant That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >mantra That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >give stick to nymph "Of that I have no need," she sings in oboe. In rare moments like this, you get an ephemeral awareness that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. You feel a mantra from this activity. She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >g "Of that I have no need," she sings in deep oboe. In still rarer moments like this, you get a full realization that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. The deepest part of 'you' 'awakens', but maintaining that state seems impossible. The nymph caresses you as you stare contentedly. >g A full awakening occurs. You are definitely being held her against your wishes. Your staff would only be given to a love that you feel from your own soul. The nymph's song taps quickly in bassoon. "Keep your staff, oh lovely one! Do not jeopardize our bond!" She moves with notes of piccolo. As she weaves smoothly around you, her dance is a song of its own. >g The woods may be foreboding, but you are in command of your feelings and how you will act upon them--at least for a few crucial moments. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >woods Focusing on your walking stick, you sprint to the woods. Only when you're deep within them do you stop to breathe. You wouldn't want to live here, but, as long as there's daylight, it's not TOO bad to visit. Fear and charm--the same emotion? You wander towards the sound of wind, eventually emerging near a bleak tor. Bleak Tor Atop the tor a battle ensues between a large humanoid figure and two enormous beasts. The figure is in trouble. An entity intervenes--an entity composed of you, the figure and an essence beyond both. Imbued with the entity's desire, you ascend the hill before the combatants realize your presence. With a flying tackle you knock one of the beasts down the tor, saving the besieged figure from a deadly bite. Real-time does not yet interrupt. The one you saved is HER. The love that spoke this morning. The love that awoke you. She's a ronqon. She's everything. She's in trouble. And so are you. Real-time announces itself with a hideous, unnatural growl. The beasts are netherworldly. One is recovering at the base of the tor, the other from the raw surprise. But both are ready again. Your Love is here. Two beasts hunger for the kill. "Kellen!" she cries out with hundreds of emotions. "I fear I summoned these animals!" The beast still nearby rushes her, she wrestles with it and sends it down the tor into the other. She is bleeding badly. "Kellen," she gasps, "I am Tamta. We must get to my underground passage. These creatures can be delayed but they cannot be stopped." With that she passes out. >x tamta As Ronqons are alien in appearance to humans, you do not know how to rate her physical features. But you do know how to regard them--insignificant. Her presence harmonizes with yours. She is your love in heart, mind and soul. You "know" that she loves you with the same enormity. She is now stretched on her back, bleeding and exhausted. A beast creeps in with unreal quickness and slashes your leg. The pure force of the blow knocks you down. If it weren't for your thick pants, your leg would have been severed. >undo Bleak Tor [Previous turn undone.] >passage Like in a dream or in a game you've played before, a location of which you have never visited appears in your mind. A beast creeps in with unreal quickness and slashes your leg. The pure force of the blow knocks you down. If it weren't for your thick pants, your leg would have been severed. >g Like in a dream or in a game you've played before, a location of which you have never visited appears in your mind. A beast bites your stomach and rips into it. >hit beast You lunge skillfully with your staff, poking one in the head. A beast barrels into your shoulder, dislocating it. >wake tamta She is roused a bit, but collapses again. Even your surge of adrenaline and your love for Tamta aren't enough for you to continue. You fall flat on your face, dropping your staff to the ground. Your momentum carries you down the tor, and the last thing you hear is a stick snapping followed immediately by a cataclysmic blast. You awake to the touch of Tamta's care. No other knowledge is relevant. You stand, slowly, driven by desire to be near her. (She is much, much taller than you are, but neither of you seem to care.) Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. "My Kellen," Tamta says as she sees you looking around, "I'm afraid I'm not much of a wizard. My people have no affinity for magic, yet I persist. I have collected many objects from the men's raids--things that were of no value to them. You may use them if you'd like." She pauses to think of to say the thoughts she feels. "I must tell you now that your sister passed this way several years ago. She inspired me in many ways. She gave me confidence in myself, instructed me in the basic arts, and, most importantly, told me of you." [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. Of the many items here, only the chameleon interests you. >x chameleon Except that it's much too long and has the runes of a wand on it, this looks just like a real chameleon. You recall Corwen and Cordelia zapping these at things. The effects ranged from stunningly beautiful to devastatingly disastrous. >corwen? "I owe her everything," Tamta tears up. >g "I owe her everything," Tamta tears up. >coredelia? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >cordelia? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Tamta daydreams with you. >x tamta As Ronqons are alien in appearance to humans, you do not know how to rate her physical features. But you do know how to regard them--insignificant. Her presence harmonizes with yours. She is your love in heart, mind and soul. You "know" that she loves you with the same enormity. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >love? The topic is in you, of you and around you. Tamta daydreams with you. >sparrow? "Oh, my Kellen, the sparrow was my only hope. Of my limited magical skills, at least my summonings worked occasionally." >peace? "My Kellen, do you want to deliver the treaty to our chieftan?" Tamta asks. "You will have to wait until he returns from a raid." Tamta daydreams with you. >treaty? The topic can wait. >cleric? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Tamta daydreams with you. >beholder? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >l Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. Of the many items here, only the chameleon interests you. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >ronqon That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >kiss tamta You want nothing else, but the physical differences are too much. Tamta daydreams with you. >x chameleon Except that it's much too long and has the runes of a wand on it, this looks just like a real chameleon. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >get it Tamta comments as you take the chameleon, "Your sister used that wand to change anyone that bothered her into a rat. Only one ronqon ever did bother her." She smiles. >x it Except that it's much too long and has the runes of a wand on it, this looks just like a real chameleon. >aim it at me That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >point it at tamta That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >hit tamta with it I only understood you as far as wanting to hit Tamta. >l Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. >cavern You want to be with Tamta. Tamta daydreams with you. >passageway You want to be with Tamta. >passageway? You want to be with Tamta. >cavern? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >i You are carrying: a chameleon a jagged locket a signed Ronqon peace treaty your clothes (being worn) Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >x locket Anytime you look at this locket, you think of your dear sister. She gave it to you just before she went out into the unknown to experience the "great adventure." You haven't seen her since. Just above the jagged, bottom part, she inscribed magically in very small print: Little brother. No longer will I be able to protect you, but always shall I look after you. Love, Corwen. >locket? Actions seem better than words... The nothing doesn't seem interested. >show locket to tamta You take the locket and give it to her. As you look up at her, she is leaning down with a locket of her own. Her jagged edges run into yours and fit truly. There is a thunderclap and colorful sparks crackle everywhere. You embrace. The reality of a new race--half-Ronqon, half-Human--will have to wait. The End. *** *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > restore Ok. >decline That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >decline? "I fully understand, and I respect your decision," Tilson says. >bedroom Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Bedroom Your bedroom is quite modest for someone of nobility; still it's likely the largest in Hinter Keep. The main furnishings here--a bed, a desk, an armoire and a fireplace--are all of deceptive quality. Plain on first glance, they gradually reveal their exquisite workmanship. An opened bay window offers a view of most of the keep and, for the moment at least, a warm, spring breeze. [Nearby locations: Hall] >sign treaty You sign the treaty. Unless you can deliver it to the Ronqon chief by night, however, your action means nothing. >tower Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Cordelia's Tower The first level, the only place where visitors are allowed, seems not to be made of the same stone the rest of the tower is. Whether this is a trick of magic or artistry, Cordelia isn't the type to reveal the answer. [Nearby locations: Keep] >teleport? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Cordelia enters the room. "Oh, you startled me. I didn't hear you enter," she says. Cordelia asks you a council related question, and you respond. >teleport? "So you're ready are you? OK, then. It's the mountains over there, right?" she points. "I'll get you there, but no guarantees about the exact location." With that she begins to chant and gesture, chant and gesture. The last thing you hear in her presence is a crackling sound. And without another moment... Bottom of a Roc's Nest Nice teleporting, Cordelia... This gigantic nest is made of trees. Not just a tree's branches or twigs or leaves, but whole trees. They are attached to each other by some sort of gooey substance--the less analysis the better. You're also not sure if the foul odor you smell coming from the trees is from the goo or if it's from something else. [Nearby locations: Top of Nest] (If you thought being teleported to a gigantic nest in who knows where was enough to wipe the goofy smile off your face, you thought wrong.) >top Your climb is an easy but time-consuming one. Top of a Roc's Nest Perched on a jutting boulder from the top of one of many nearby mountains, the nest offers a view to inspire awe. Below all of the harsh grandeur, a lush, pristine glade rests amid a foreboding forest. Perhaps everything was painted there by a master artist. [Nearby locations: Bottom of Nest, Glade] >glade It's a looooong way down. You're pretty sure you have an item in your inventory to save you, but Cordelia is pretty and you saw where that got you. This time, though, you're literally between a roc's nest and a hard glade. >g It's too bad you didn't find any feathers in the nest. It would be comforting to have a piece of the roc as insurance from the fall. There'd certainly be no doubt that it would cover you. >g You realize you have often used humor to avoid your real feelings; now you're ready to face your fears. Once more to the glade my friend, once more. >g All right... (Perhaps Pyzynk, unbeknownst to you, beamed the honeycomb into your clothes the last time you visited the treasury?) During your rapid descent and feeling you have nothing to lose, you try a little of your honeycomb. Sure enough, it's delicious. But fortunately enough, the internal contortions you get from eating it make you as light as a feather when you're in altitude. As you complete your gentle and nearly forever (but who's complaining?) float to the ground, the distortions cease. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] (What WILL it take to wipe that smile off your face. You couldn't possibly still be in love?) (Could you?) >i You are carrying: a Tuo Yandrasian honeycomb a signed Ronqon peace treaty a simple walking stick (that you're not pretending to use like a bow right now) your clothes (being worn) >x honeycomb Is this some kind of honeycomb? Yes, it's very impressive. Honey sparkles with random colors from each delicate cell. And even though you've handled it many times, still you're hesitant to try again. It's just so fragile-looking. A shiver starts from your shoulder and carries down your spine. When you recover from the sensation, you begin your adoration a beautiful nymph. >give staff to nymph "Of that I have no need," she sings in oboe. In rare moments like this, you get an ephemeral awareness that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. You feel a mantra from this activity. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g "Of that I have no need," she sings in deep oboe. In still rarer moments like this, you get a full realization that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. The deepest part of 'you' 'awakens', but maintaining that state seems impossible. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g A full awakening occurs. You are definitely being held her against your wishes. Your staff would only be given to a love that you feel from your own soul. The nymph's song taps quickly in bassoon. "Keep your staff, oh lovely one! Do not jeopardize our bond!" She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g The woods may be foreboding, but you are in command of your feelings and how you will act upon them--at least for a few crucial moments. >woods Focusing on your walking stick, you sprint to the woods. Only when you're deep within them do you stop to breathe. You wouldn't want to live here, but, as long as there's daylight, it's not TOO bad to visit. Fear and charm--the same emotion? You wander towards the sound of wind, eventually emerging near a bleak tor. Bleak Tor Atop the tor a battle ensues between a large humanoid figure and two enormous beasts. The figure is in trouble. An entity intervenes--an entity composed of you, the figure and an essence beyond both. Imbued with the entity's desire, you ascend the hill before the combatants realize your presence. With a flying tackle you knock one of the beasts down the tor, saving the besieged figure from a deadly bite. Real-time does not yet interrupt. The one you saved is HER. The love that spoke this morning. The love that awoke you. She's a ronqon. She's everything. She's in trouble. And so are you. Real-time announces itself with a hideous, unnatural growl. The beasts are netherworldly. One is recovering at the base of the tor, the other from the raw surprise. But both are ready again. Your Love is here. Two beasts hunger for the kill. "Kellen!" she cries out with hundreds of emotions. "I fear I summoned these animals!" The beast still nearby rushes her, she wrestles with it and sends it down the tor into the other. She is bleeding badly. "Kellen," she gasps, "I am Tamta. We must get to my underground passage. These creatures can be delayed but they cannot be stopped." With that she passes out. >wake tamta She is roused a bit, but collapses again. A beast creeps in with unreal quickness and slashes your leg. The pure force of the blow knocks you down. If it weren't for your thick pants, your leg would have been severed. >eat honeycomb That would have been the most expensive morsel of your life, but fortunately the honeycomb regenerates. As many new cells appear on the other end of the comb as you bite off. Every time you've tasted the honeycomb, you've experienced temporary internal contortions. (So why would you keep doing that? You tell me.) This time is no different. A beast bites your stomach and rips into it. >z Time passes. A beast barrels into your shoulder, dislocating it. >z Time passes. Even your surge of adrenaline and your love for Tamta aren't enough for you to continue. You fall flat on your face, dropping your staff to the ground. Your momentum carries you down the tor, and the last thing you hear is a stick snapping followed immediately by a cataclysmic blast. You awake to the touch of Tamta's care. No other knowledge is relevant. You stand, slowly, driven by desire to be near her. (She is much, much taller than you are, but neither of you seem to care.) Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. "My Kellen," Tamta says as she sees you looking around, "I'm afraid I'm not much of a wizard. My people have no affinity for magic, yet I persist. I have collected many objects from the men's raids--things that were of no value to them. You may use them if you'd like." She pauses to think of to say the thoughts she feels. "I must tell you now that your sister passed this way several years ago. She inspired me in many ways. She gave me confidence in myself, instructed me in the basic arts, and, most importantly, told me of you." [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. Of the many items here, only the chameleon interests you. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >get chameleon Tamta comments as you take the chameleon, "Your sister used that wand to change anyone that bothered her into a rat. Only one ronqon ever did bother her." She smiles. >sister? "I owe her everything," Tamta tears up. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >shoot wand That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >eat honeycomb That would have been the most expensive morsel of your life, but fortunately the honeycomb regenerates. As many new cells appear on the other end of the comb as you bite off. Every time you've tasted the honeycomb, you've experienced temporary internal contortions. (So why would you keep doing that? You tell me.) This time is no different. >give it to tamta "Thank you, my Kellen, for the lovely gift. I shall treasure it always." Tamta daydreams with you. >tamta, eat honeycomb To converse on a specific topic, type ONE word and immediately follow it with a question mark. For example, "dog?" may broach (or continue) the subject of dogs with anyone appropriate and nearby. The question mark does not necessarily denote inquiry. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >l Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. >i You are carrying: a chameleon a signed Ronqon peace treaty your clothes (being worn) Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >zap chameleon at tamta Maybe it's having watched wands being used for so long, maybe it's a heretofore unknown affinity for magic, maybe it's the power of love. But holding the wand in your hand feels natural. You can feel its energies coalesce with your mind, building and burning. You mold it to an image while keeping back its volcanic power. You can contain the energies no longer. Her body recoils in shock. A gray mist engulfs her and she is gone. No. She rests naked in human form at your feet. You kneel to her side, worried desperately for her life. But she sits up and smiles with you. You know nothing more can ever keep you two apart. The End. *** *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > undo Tamta's Room [Previous turn undone.] >zap me with chameleon I didn't understand that sentence. >zap chameleon at me Maybe it's having watched wands being used for so long, maybe it's a heretofore unknown affinity for magic, maybe it's the power of love. But holding the wand in your hand feels natural. You can feel its energies coalesce with your mind, building and burning. You mold it to an image while keeping back its volcanic power. You can contain the energies no longer. Your body multiplies itself, expanding externally and internally. You begin to lose control of your faculties. And then the calm. You are Ronqon. Tamta rushes to your side, worried desperately for your life. But you sit up and smile with her. She knows nothing more can ever separate you. The End. *** *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > undo Tamta's Room [Previous turn undone.] >treaty? "My Kellen, do you want to deliver the treaty to our chieftan?" Tamta asks. "You will have to wait until he returns from a raid." Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >l Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. >restore Ok. >tower Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Cordelia's Tower The first level, the only place where visitors are allowed, seems not to be made of the same stone the rest of the tower is. Whether this is a trick of magic or artistry, Cordelia isn't the type to reveal the answer. [Nearby locations: Keep] >decline That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >decline: That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >decline? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Cordelia enters the room. "Oh, you startled me. I didn't hear you enter," she says. >decline? "I understand, and no need to explain," she says surprisingly sympathetically. >shrine Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Shrine This is the section of the shrine where visitors are received. Translucent dividers separate this 'room' from the rest of the building. Occasionally, a shadow of one of the animal inhabitants moves past. [Nearby locations: Keep] >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. "Be with you in just a second," Tilson calls out from nearby. >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Tilson appears from another section of the building. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Baron," Tilson says. "Your presence is always welcome here." >fly? "You seem very anxious to travel, and I will keep my word to provide it for you," Tilson says. "But I'm obligated to make you wait, at least for a little while. I realize you're not taking this decision lightly, but it's possible that you feel this is your only solution to your problem. I do assure you there are other ways." >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. >fly? "You seem very anxious to travel, and I will keep my word to provide it for you," Tilson says. "But I'm obligated to make you wait, at least for a little while. I realize you're not taking this decision lightly, but it's possible that you feel this is your only solution to your problem. I do assure you there are other ways." >keep Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] >manor Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] >dining Dining Room This focus of this room is the nearly endless cherrywood table, every other item is virtually unnoticeable. [Nearby locations: Hall] Arctos is here, as busy as ever. The chamberlain methodically puts down a new place setting. >shrine Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Shrine This is the section of the shrine where visitors are received. Translucent dividers separate this 'room' from the rest of the building. Occasionally, a shadow of one of the animal inhabitants moves past. [Nearby locations: Keep] >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. >z Time passes. >z Time passes. "Be with you in just a second," Tilson calls out from nearby. >z Time passes. Tilson appears from another section of the building. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Baron," he says with a hint of fatigue. "I was tending to one of the animals." >fly? "Personal growth is an interesting thing," Tilson says. "Sometimes it comes from the continual day-to-day, year-after-year grind. Other times it cascades through you like a waterfall, filling you in one morning." And with that he leads you past the dividers to a simple and somewhat worn atrium. But the creature grazing there is anything but simple and worn. A fantastically majestic mare turns her head to you, inquisitively. Every part of her is pure white. Her wings... her elegant wings shimmer in the morning light that just now peeks in the atrium. Her powerful and restless legs seem ready at any moment to sprint to the moon and back. And... you'd almost swear she was smiling at you. Although Tilson allowed you many minutes of pure awe and admiration, it still feels like he has just rudely interrupted you. "Well, Baron, she seems quite comfortable with you. This is a good thing, because you must be off now. She must join her kind this evening as is the pegasus way." Even if you were unsure of your destination and your purpose there, there is no way you'd pass up this ride! You climb up as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her wings assisting with a magical grace. You ride atop her with equal ease. And with a bob of her magnificent head, you're in the air. The flight is a soulful blur. Pure goodness fills you. The love you met only this morning mixes with your other thoughts and leads them in dance. And you arrive. Back to your old self. Although not entirely. You look back, but the pegasus is already gone. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] >i You are carrying: an unsigned Ronqon peace treaty the psychological crutch you call a walking stick your clothes (being worn) >restore Ok. >tower Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Cordelia's Tower The first level, the only place where visitors are allowed, seems not to be made of the same stone the rest of the tower is. Whether this is a trick of magic or artistry, Cordelia isn't the type to reveal the answer. [Nearby locations: Keep] >decline? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Cordelia enters the room. "Oh, you startled me. I didn't hear you enter," she says. >decline? "I understand, and no need to explain," she says surprisingly sympathetically. Cordelia moves her feet, putting the one that was in front now behind the other. >bedroom Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Bedroom Your bedroom is quite modest for someone of nobility; still it's likely the largest in Hinter Keep. The main furnishings here--a bed, a desk, an armoire and a fireplace--are all of deceptive quality. Plain on first glance, they gradually reveal their exquisite workmanship. An opened bay window offers a view of most of the keep and, for the moment at least, a warm, spring breeze. [Nearby locations: Hall] >sign treaty You sign the treaty. Unless you can deliver it to the Ronqon chief by night, however, your action means nothing. >shrine Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Shrine This is the section of the shrine where visitors are received. Translucent dividers separate this 'room' from the rest of the building. Occasionally, a shadow of one of the animal inhabitants moves past. [Nearby locations: Keep] >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. "Be with you in just a second," Tilson calls out from nearby. >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. Tilson appears from another section of the building. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Baron," Tilson says. "Your presence is always welcome here." >fly? "You seem very anxious to travel, and I will keep my word to provide it for you," Tilson says. "But I'm obligated to make you wait, at least for a little while. I realize you're not taking this decision lightly, but it's possible that you feel this is your only solution to your problem. I do assure you there are other ways." Tilson queries you about the council. You respond. >manor Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] Hall The manor's hall resembles the one in your father's palace in nearly every way but size. Trappings similar to his are displayed here--family portraits, ceremonial suits of armor, and curios from various lands. [Nearby locations: Bedroom, Dining Room, Treasury, Keep] >keep Hinter Street There are many about their business here, but to you right now they are the painted backdrop of a stage. [Nearby locations: Manor, Tower, Shrine] >shrine Shrine This is the section of the shrine where visitors are received. Translucent dividers separate this 'room' from the rest of the building. Occasionally, a shadow of one of the animal inhabitants moves past. [Nearby locations: Keep] >fly? You dismiss that subject as currently irrelevant. >z Time passes. "Be with you in just a second," Tilson calls out from nearby. >z Time passes. Tilson appears from another section of the building. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Baron," Tilson says. "Your presence is always welcome here." Tilson invites you to initiate a topic. >fly? "Personal growth is an interesting thing," Tilson says. "Sometimes it comes from the continual day-to-day, year-after-year grind. Other times it cascades through you like a waterfall, filling you in one morning." And with that he leads you past the dividers to a simple and somewhat worn atrium. But the creature grazing there is anything but simple and worn. A fantastically majestic mare turns her head to you, inquisitively. Every part of her is pure white. Her wings... her elegant wings shimmer in the morning light that just now peeks in the atrium. Her powerful and restless legs seem ready at any moment to sprint to the moon and back. And... you'd almost swear she was smiling at you. Although Tilson allowed you many minutes of pure awe and admiration, it still feels like he has just rudely interrupted you. "Well, Baron, she seems quite comfortable with you. This is a good thing, because you must be off now. She must join her kind this evening as is the pegasus way." Even if you were unsure of your destination and your purpose there, there is no way you'd pass up this ride! You climb up as if it were the most natural thing in the world, her wings assisting with a magical grace. You ride atop her with equal ease. And with a bob of her magnificent head, you're in the air. The flight is a soulful blur. Pure goodness fills you. The love you met only this morning mixes with your other thoughts and leads them in dance. And you arrive. Back to your old self. Although not entirely. You look back, but the pegasus is already gone. Glade Nestled amid the foreboding woods amid the harsh mountains rests this sanctuary of light. A brook rushes by carrying freezing water from the mountains. [Nearby locations: Woods] >woods The woods seem too foreboding. >x brook You see nothing special about the brook. A shiver starts from your shoulder and carries down your spine. When you recover from the sensation, you begin your adoration a beautiful nymph. >x nymph Words can no more describe her beauty than they could a siren's song. Perhaps that is the reason she is translucent--the proper materials do not exist that would fit her outline. She catches you looking at the woods and heightens its fear within you by whispering an oboe medley. >dance That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >sing Singing seems like the proper thing to do in her presence. You don't even have a song in mind, but you don't need one. The words and notes flow. Early into your song, her flute voice dances with your baritone. The duet takes on a nature all its own. Even when you stop singing, the song seems to gently, slowly float away. >give staff to nymph "Of that I have no need," she sings in oboe. In rare moments like this, you get an ephemeral awareness that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. You feel a mantra from this activity. The nymph caresses you as you stare contentedly. >g "Of that I have no need," she sings in deep oboe. In still rarer moments like this, you get a full realization that you are being charmed. Not a willing charmed, a violating charmed. Your psychological dependency on your staff has tapped a deep and hidden part of YOU. The deepest part of 'you' 'awakens', but maintaining that state seems impossible. She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >g A full awakening occurs. You are definitely being held her against your wishes. Your staff would only be given to a love that you feel from your own soul. The nymph's song taps quickly in bassoon. "Keep your staff, oh lovely one! Do not jeopardize our bond!" She sings a repeating phrase--a gentle flute tone that enchants you. >woods Focusing on your walking stick, you sprint to the woods. Only when you're deep within them do you stop to breathe. You wouldn't want to live here, but, as long as there's daylight, it's not TOO bad to visit. Fear and charm--the same emotion? You wander towards the sound of wind, eventually emerging near a bleak tor. Bleak Tor Atop the tor a battle ensues between a large humanoid figure and two enormous beasts. The figure is in trouble. An entity intervenes--an entity composed of you, the figure and an essence beyond both. Imbued with the entity's desire, you ascend the hill before the combatants realize your presence. With a flying tackle you knock one of the beasts down the tor, saving the besieged figure from a deadly bite. Real-time does not yet interrupt. The one you saved is HER. The love that spoke this morning. The love that awoke you. She's a ronqon. She's everything. She's in trouble. And so are you. Real-time announces itself with a hideous, unnatural growl. The beasts are netherworldly. One is recovering at the base of the tor, the other from the raw surprise. But both are ready again. Your Love is here. Two beasts hunger for the kill. "Kellen!" she cries out with hundreds of emotions. "I fear I summoned these animals!" The beast still nearby rushes her, she wrestles with it and sends it down the tor into the other. She is bleeding badly. "Kellen," she gasps, "I am Tamta. We must get to my underground passage. These creatures can be delayed but they cannot be stopped." With that she passes out. >wake tamta She is roused a bit, but collapses again. A beast creeps in with unreal quickness and slashes your leg. The pure force of the blow knocks you down. If it weren't for your thick pants, your leg would have been severed. >x beast They are hideous to behold. A beast bites your stomach and rips into it. >z Time passes. A beast barrels into your shoulder, dislocating it. >z Time passes. Even your surge of adrenaline and your love for Tamta aren't enough for you to continue. You fall flat on your face, dropping your staff to the ground. Your momentum carries you down the tor, and the last thing you hear is a stick snapping followed immediately by a cataclysmic blast. You awake to the touch of Tamta's care. No other knowledge is relevant. You stand, slowly, driven by desire to be near her. (She is much, much taller than you are, but neither of you seem to care.) Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. "My Kellen," Tamta says as she sees you looking around, "I'm afraid I'm not much of a wizard. My people have no affinity for magic, yet I persist. I have collected many objects from the men's raids--things that were of no value to them. You may use them if you'd like." She pauses to think of to say the thoughts she feels. "I must tell you now that your sister passed this way several years ago. She inspired me in many ways. She gave me confidence in myself, instructed me in the basic arts, and, most importantly, told me of you." [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. Of the many items here, only the chameleon interests you. >i You are carrying: a signed Ronqon peace treaty your clothes (being worn) Tamta daydreams with you. >get chameleon Tamta comments as you take the chameleon, "Your sister used that wand to change anyone that bothered her into a rat. Only one ronqon ever did bother her." She smiles. Tamta daydreams with you. >chameleon? I have tried using it to turn me into a human--I have longed to attain a form that would please us both. I have felt the wand's power, but I lack the "affinity", as Corwen called it, to unleash it. Tamta daydreams with you. >treaty? Something inside you feels like this treaty is unnecessary. It won't encourage that many more to endure the arduous mountain trek. The Ronqons are not and have never been directly threatening. It will be another law for law's sake. A treaty should be an active cooperation, or at the very least a mutually beneficial cease-fire. You rip it up and throw it away. >treaty? The treaty is no longer an issue. >ronqon? "I'll be happy to answer any of your questions, my Kellen," Tamta says. >chief? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >ronqon? You should have many questions, but they seem trivial upon consideration. Tamta daydreams with you. >i You are carrying: a chameleon your clothes (being worn) >x chameleon Except that it's much too long and has the runes of a wand on it, this looks just like a real chameleon. You recall Corwen and Cordelia zapping these at things. The effects ranged from stunningly beautiful to devastatingly disastrous. >l Tamta's Room This warehouse-sized room is Tamta's living quarters. It's also a wizard's workshop. [Nearby locations: Cavern Passageway] Your Love is here. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >cavern You want to be with Tamta. >passageway You want to be with Tamta. >zap tamta with chameleon I didn't understand that sentence. >zap chameleon at tamta Maybe it's having watched wands being used for so long, maybe it's a heretofore unknown affinity for magic, maybe it's the power of love. But holding the wand in your hand feels natural. You can feel its energies coalesce with your mind, building and burning. You mold it to an image while keeping back its volcanic power. You can contain the energies no longer. Her body recoils in shock. A gray mist engulfs her and she is gone. No. She rests naked in human form at your feet. You kneel to her side, worried desperately for her life. But she sits up and smiles with you. You know nothing more can ever keep you two apart. The End. *** *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > undo Tamta's Room [Previous turn undone.] >chief? That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >peace? The treaty is no longer an issue. >zap me with chameleon I didn't understand that sentence. >zap chameleon at me Maybe it's having watched wands being used for so long, maybe it's a heretofore unknown affinity for magic, maybe it's the power of love. But holding the wand in your hand feels natural. You can feel its energies coalesce with your mind, building and burning. You mold it to an image while keeping back its volcanic power. You can contain the energies no longer. Your body multiplies itself, expanding externally and internally. You begin to lose control of your faculties. And then the calm. You are Ronqon. Tamta rushes to your side, worried desperately for your life. But you sit up and smile with her. She knows nothing more can ever separate you. The End. *** *** Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game or QUIT? > undo Tamta's Room [Previous turn undone.] >x locket That's unavailable, unimplemented or irrelevant. >i You are carrying: a chameleon your clothes (being worn) >x clothes Your clothing is practical, though all of it is of the highest quality. Your blue tunic proudly displays the Moorwick crest, a shield with three diagonal red stripes, on both front and back. Your gray pants are made of thick leather. Your boots are "old cavalry". Few wear that kind today, but you continue to do so because nothing else feels right. >take off clothes That would be inappropriate, now. >love? The topic is in you, of you and around you. Tamta looks longingly into your eyes. >sex? You wouldn't even have to discuss it. But your physical differences make it undiscussable in a much sadder way. Tamta daydreams with you. >[snort] That's neither a verb nor a topic I recognize. >quit Are you sure you want to quit? y