Vespers
by Jason Devlin (2005)
Genres: Historical
Religious

It has been five days, now. Five days since I made the choice. Five days since I closed the gate. Really, there was no choice. Rovato was damned when the first spot appeared: when the first bloody cough ensued from the mouth of an urchin. To have allowed the sick sanctuary at Saint Cuthbert's would only have damned us as well. But we were already damned. The plague came. And now we suffer.

action: %
response: It has been five days, now. Five days since I made the choice. Five days since I closed the gate.

Really, there was no choice. Rovato was damned when the first spot appeared: when the first bloody cough ensued from the mouth of an urchin. To have allowed the sick sanctuary at Saint Cuthbert's would only have damned us as well.

But we were already damned.

The plague came. And now we suffer.

Six crisp chimes mark Vespers. Your heart flutters for a moment, and you place your head in your hands.

Your room is small; it is the same as all the others, but it seems smaller of late. With so many of your brothers gone, there has been little for you to do but wait. Wait for the spots to appear in this tiny, dark room.

A chill breeze spins in through the window and out the door to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the other side is your bed, the blanket wrapped up in itself from this morning.
action: About yourself
response: You're not the man you were a few days ago. Your skin hangs as sallow drapes around your jaw: your hands are emaciated. Your frock billows about you; it is difficult to find any flesh within. The only solace you find in looking at yourself is that, so far, no signs of the plague are within you.
action: You look at the desk
response: It was once a fine desk, but now it sags in the middle and smells faintly of rotting wood. Still, it serves well enough when you need to write: a need you haven't had much of lately.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You are carrying:
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: Burn desk
response: It does not light. The dampness spoils everything here.
action: You examine the tinderbox
response: A small box containing some flint, steel, and tinder. You always keep it close should your candle be snuffed by the wind.

Thunder rumbles overhead, shaking the monastery to its foundations.
action: You examine the candle
response: Pig fat and twine. Still, it holds its flame very well. Beads of oil drip from near the flame, running down the sides and coating them with slime.

A loud crackle splits the sound of wind. Lightning. Stone tumbles in the distance.
action: You examine the frock
response: A threadbare frock that does little to keep you warm. The coarse fabric scratches where it touches your body, which is less than it used to be: the frock is far too large for you now. It smells of sweat and tears.
action: Sing
response: Your days in the choir are long behind you.
action: You examine the bed
response: Little more than a damp mattress on four legs. Still it is comfortable on cold nights.
action: You look around
response: The room is small; the same as all the others. But it seems smaller of late. The hall extends to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the other side is your bed, the blanket wrapped up in itself from this morning.
action: You examine the blanket
response: These have kept you warm on many cold nights.
action: You take the blanket
response: Taken.
action: Go west
response: (opening the bedroom door)
Pulling your frock tightly about you, you sigh and exit to the hall.

As cold as your room is, this hall is even colder. The stone walls dance and glisten with dampness. The warmth of your room awaits to the east, and the cold of the outside world through a heavy door to the south. Moonlight streams in from the cloister to the north, and a flimsy door secures the locutory to the west.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.
action: Wear blanket
response: You put on the bedding.
action: Examine box
response: (the alms box)
It used to be filled with alms. Now, mostly cobwebs.
action: Empty box
response: (the alms box)
The alms box is closed.
action: You open box
response: (the alms box)
A single coin sparkles at you from the bottom.
action: You get the coin
response: It feels warm in your hand.
action: You look at the coin
response: It gleams in the light.
action: You listen
response: The wind. Nothing more.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs open, as poor as the people it is meant to help.
action: Go west
response: (opening the door to the locutory)

The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

Near the door to the east is a fireplace, its embers cold for days.
action: You examine the bed
response: This bed is small but clean. Visitors are rare lately.
action: You examine the fireplace
response: The fireplace lies cold: cold as the rest of Saint Cuthbert's.
action: You take mould
response: That holds little interest for you.
action: Smell the fireplace
response: Mildew.
action: Look around
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

Near the door to the east is a fireplace, its embers cold for days.
action: You examine the mattress
response: This bed is small but clean. Visitors are rare lately.
action: You make yourself
response: You cannot make that.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You take the ashes
response: That's hardly portable.
action: You go east
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs open, as poor as the people it is meant to help.
action: Go north
response: Bracing yourself for the cold, you lower your hood and exit to the cloister.

In the warmer months, Brother Matteo maintains a beautiful garden in the cloister. Now there is nothing but a few dead vines sticking out from beneath a blanket of snow. Still, it has a calm dignity: the wind finds no entrance here. The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church commands from the north, its spires reaching up to Heaven.

Brother Lucca, face flushed and cheeks wet, storms out from the bell tower and off to the dormitory in the east, meeting your eyes for only a moment.

"Are you alright, Brother?" you ask, receiving no response.
action: You look at Lucca
response: He left for the dormitory.
action: You take the vines
response: Despite being dead, they cling desperately to the soil. You cannot move them.
action: You eat the snow
response: It stings your teeth and lines them with grit.
action: You throw the snow
response: You toss the snow: a sweaty little ball of cold.
The snow trickles out of your hand as a few drops of water.
action: You examine the god
response: He is too far off to see.
action: Pray
response: (to God)
A warmth spreads throughout your body. He walks with you.
action: You pray to jesus
response: A warmth spreads throughout your body. He walks with you.
action: You pray to the god
response: A warmth spreads throughout your body. He walks with you.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You ask god about the plague
response: You can only do that to something animate.
action: Look around
response: In the warmer months, Brother Matteo maintains a beautiful garden in the cloister. Now there is nothing but a few dead vines sticking out from beneath a blanket of snow. Still, it has a calm dignity: the wind finds no entrance here. The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church commands from the north, its spires reaching up to Heaven.
action: You sit
response: What do you want to sit on top of?
action: Go west
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.

Brother Drogo sits at one of the tables, scratching furiously at its hard surface.
action: You examine Drogo
response: Brother Drogo sits in a filthy frock, black tendrils of greasy hair dangling in his eyes. Every now and then, he puffs loudly to blow the hair out of his face, but it always falls back.
action: You tell Drogo about the absent god
response: "Please, father." He doesn't look up from the table. "This is far more important."
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "How are you feeling, brother?"

"Oh, I am feeling quite alright. In fact, I feel like a bird who crawls under the soil."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You listen
response: The wind. Nothing more.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You look at table
response: Rows of tables split the refectory into a maze of narrow paths. Their unfinished surfaces bear the scratches of many meals.
action: You examine the scratches
response: At first it looks random, but upon closer inspection it appears to a picture. It cuts deep: two intersecting lines surrounded by jagged grooves. A cross. Fire.
action: You talk to Drogo about the table
response: "Why do you scratch at the table, Brother Drogo?" You ask.

"To get to the middle, of course." He says, looking at you as though you are mad.
action: You talk to Drogo about the middle
response: "And why do you want to reach the middle?"

"Because it is that much closer to the bottom."
action: You talk to Drogo about the bottom
response: "And the bottom?"

"Hmm." He pauses thoughtfully and stares at the deepening hole. "That is a good question." The scratching resumes.
action: You talk to Drogo about Lucca
response: "What's wrong with Lucca?"

"He's a murderer, of course."

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You talk to Drogo about the murder
response: "What happened, Drogo?" You ask.

"Well, the way I see it is that Matteo wanted to fly, but God said 'No, Matteo. Flying is for birds. You are not a bird, and shouldn't wish to be.'" Drogo starts. "Matteo was not happy with that --you know how he can be sometimes-- but he thought God would be mad if he tried to fly on his own. So Lucca helped him."
action: You talk to Drogo about Drogo
response: "How are you feeling, brother?"

"Oh, I am feeling quite alright. In fact, I feel like a bird who crawls under the soil."
action: Look around
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.

Brother Drogo mumbles to himself, his eyes darting back and forth from nothing to nothing.
action: You look at the eyes
response: They peer out between curtains of greasy hair, ever watchful.
action: You ask Drogo about the garden
response: "What friends, Drogo?"

"Oh, you wouldn't like them." He smiles, his teeth form a brilliant row. "But they would sure like you!"
action: You ask Drogo about the wolf
response: "My dear friends. So much better than humans."
action: You ask Drogo about the humans
response: "Weak, dirty creatures," he says, looking directly at you. "Not like my friends." He turns away. "Not like my friends, at all."
action: You ask Drogo about the friends
response: "What friends, Drogo?"

"Oh, you wouldn't like them." He smiles, his teeth form a brilliant row. "But they would sure like you!"

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You show the coin to Drogo
response: Brother Drogo is unimpressed.
action: You go south
response: The dead don't eat, or so you've been told. Still, the kitchen is practically empty. Bare tables stand with no crumbs on them. All the perishables were finished up this morning. No more will be coming if Rovato is as barren as you think. Hopefully, some remain in the cellar through the hatch in the floor. The refectory lies to the north.

A cutlery rack sits on one of the tables.

Against one wall is a large cupboard, its door closed.
action: You examine rack
response: The rack is empty.
action: You open the cupboard
response: As the door swings open, a small black shape springs from inside. A flash of pain sears across your arm and then quickly subsides. You whirl around to see a cat tearing out into the refectory, a drop of blood falling from its claws.
action: You examine the cupboard
response: A few crusts of bread and a piece of cheese are all that remains for food.
action: You take the bread
response: Taken.
action: You take the cheese
response: You already have that.
action: You examine the cheese
response: Just a few crusts of bread and a piece of cheese. It's not much, but it should do.
action: You open the cellar
response: It's locked.
action: You examine the cellar
response: A hatch sits in the floor with a large, steel lock upon it.
action: You examine the lock
response: Constantin insisted on locking up the cellar, to ensure the brothers could only get their alloted rations. He never gave you the key.
action: You examine the arm
response: A small scratch lines your arm from elbow to wrist.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: The dead don't eat, or so you've been told. Still, the kitchen is practically empty. Bare tables stand with no crumbs on them, and a hatch through the floor leads to the cellar. The refectory lies to the north.

A cutlery rack sits on one of the tables.

A bare cupboard sits up against the wall.
action: You get the rack
response: That's fixed in place.
action: You go to the north
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.

Brother Drogo mumbles to himself, his eyes darting back and forth from nothing to nothing.
action: You ask Drogo about Constantin
response: "He caught us some food," Drogo pouts. "I wish he wouldn't. My friends need to eat too."
action: You ask Drogo about the cellar
response: "Ooh, it's dark down there!" He pulls you in. "The darkness hides things better than the light."
action: You examine Drogo
response: Brother Drogo sits in a filthy frock, black tendrils of greasy hair dangling in his eyes. Every now and then, he puffs loudly to blow the hair out of his face, but it always falls back.
action: You search Drogo
response: He slaps away your fingers.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.

Brother Drogo mumbles to himself, his eyes darting back and forth from nothing to nothing.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: Wave cheese
response: You look ridiculous waving the food.
action: You ask Drogo about the cheese
response: "Try the kitchen," he says, pointing the way with a flip of his greasy hair.
action: You show cheese to Drogo
response: Brother Drogo is unimpressed.
action: Go east
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

A scraping sound comes from Constantin's cell, forming an eerie melody with the sobs from Matteo's.
action: You go to the southeast
response: Constantin is one of the few brothers with anything in his room besides a bed. A few tools lay next to the door in the northwest; remnants of his life as a blacksmith. A smell lingers here: a sour smell.

Brother Constantin sits on the bed, a young hare dangling from his hand. His knife moves swiftly.
action: Smell
response: It's hard to place. It's a sick smell. Vomit, perhaps?
action: You examine the hare
response: The hare dangles by one foot from Constantin's massive hand, blood soaking its snow-damp fur. It twitches. No. It doesn't. That is only the movement of the knife against its flesh.
action: You look at the knife
response: It gleams wickedly in the candlelight.
action: You look at the tools
response: Constantin was a Godsend when he arrived five years ago. Before him, Saint Cuthbert's had to enlist the help of laypeople in Rovato whenever something needed to be built. Now, Constantin does it all cheerfully, except for the occasional grumble.
action: You talk hare
response: No response.
action: You ask Constantin about Constantin
response: "Oh, I'm fine." He coughs a little, but it shakes his whole body.
action: You talk to Constantin about hare
response: "Ah, I see you have found us something to eat."

Constantin looks up distractedly. "What? Oh, yes. Something to eat," he says, returning to his catch.
action: You ask Constantin about the key
response: "A precaution. I don't want anyone stealing any food."
action: You ask Constantin about Drogo
response: "Why'd you let him back here? He isn't fit to be with the rest of us."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You ask Constantin about Matteo
response: "He's so strange lately." Constantin swats at an imaginary fly. "All he does is watch from the tower."
action: You ask Constantin about Lucca
response: "I heard him rush to Matteo's room, crying," he says. "He's not taking the plague well."
action: You look at Constantin
response: Constantin sits on the bed, causing it to sag from his immense mass. Despite his size, he moves swiftly, his knife darting in and out between the hare's skin and muscle. A pool of blood forms at his bare feet.
action: You look at the blood
response: The blood collects in a small pool at Constantin's feet, warming their chill.
action: You take the blood
response: That's hardly portable.
action: You touch the blood
response: It feels rough on your fingers.
action: You ask Constantin about the cheese
response: "I don't think there's any food left." He lifts up the bloody hare, "Hence this."
action: You look at the bed
response: A simple mattress on four wooden legs: the same as all the others.
action: You ask Constantin about the plague
response: "It moves too quickly," he says, almost guiltily. "I can barely keep up."
action: You show the cheese to Constantin
response: Brother Constantin is unimpressed.
action: Kiss constantin
response: You can't summon the will to perform the Pax.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "What do you have there, Constantin?" you ask, leaning forward.

"Something to eat," he grunts.
action: You examine the eyes
response: They watch the hare, flicking back and forth with the knife.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You take the hare
response: Constantin snatches it back. "Wait until I'm finished," he grunts.
action: You get the eyes
response: Taken.
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
Constantin's eyes
some food
a coin
some bedding (being worn)
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You look at the eyes
response: They watch the hare, flicking back and forth with the knife.
action: You drop the eyes
response: Dropped.
action: Look around
response: Constantin is one of the few brothers with anything in his room besides a bed. A few tools lay next to the door in the northwest; remnants of his life as a blacksmith. A smell lingers here: a sour smell.

Brother Constantin sits on the bed, a young hare dangling from his hand. His knife moves swiftly.
action: You show the eyes to Constantin
response: (first taking Constantin's eyes)
Brother Constantin is unimpressed.
action: You take the knife
response: Constantin snatches it back. "It's mine."
action: You go northwest
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

A scraping sound comes from Constantin's cell, forming an eerie melody with the sobs from Matteo's.
action: Go south
response: This room is small: the same as all the others. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the north.

Lucca scrabbles frantically at the ground, his blood staining the stones.
action: You examine Lucca
response: His fingers bloody on the stone. His face is red and wet with tears.
action: You examine the stone
response: Lucca scrabbles at the stone, trying desperately to unearth it from all sides.
action: You examine the bed
response: A simple mattress on four wooden legs: the same as all the others.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You take the stone
response: You pry at the stone, but your fingers accomplish little besides bleeding.
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "Why do you dig, Lucca?" you ask.

"Matteo is hiding something. I just know it's under here."
action: You ask Lucca about Matteo
response: "He knows something, but he won't tell me," he sobs more heavily for a moment. "He tells me nothing anymore."

A warmth spreads through your body, soothing the chill and fear from your bones. Salvation.

She is here.
action: Pray
response: (to God)
A warmth spreads throughout your body. He walks with you.
action: You ask Lucca about the hiding
response: All he does is sob.
action: You ask Lucca about Drogo
response: "He scares me." --his voice lowers-- "But his madness is predictable. Unlike some others."
action: You ask Lucca about madness
response: All he does is sob.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You ask Lucca about Constantin
response: "He has become even harsher than before. The plague doesn't sit well within him."
action: You ask Lucca about the plague
response: "Its damage ranges farther than I thought." He glances about the monastery.
action: You take the lucca's eyes
response: Taken.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You are carrying:
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
some food
a coin
some bedding (being worn)
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You ask Lucca about God
response: "I think he's forgotten us."
action: You take your eyes
response: (Lucca's eyes)
You already have that.
action: You ask Lucca about the ignatius
response: "His righteousness scares me. It is without humility. He can see the motes in others, but can't see the beam in his own eye."
action: You ask Lucca about yourself
response: "You're such a good man," he says. Then, under his breath: "At least I used to think so."
action: You ask Lucca about cellar
response: "There's something strange going on down there. Matteo knows, but he won't tell me."
action: You ask Lucca about the stone
response: "Why do you dig, Lucca?" you ask.

"Matteo is hiding something. I just know it's under here."
action: You ask Lucca about the murder
response: [** Programming error: Brother Lucca (object number 470)  has no property murder_asked to read **]
"You remember, Lucca; Matteo was thrown from the tower."

"No he wasn't." Lucca responds, incredulous. "He must have jumped."
action: You search lucca
response: He slaps away your fingers.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You look at the eyes
response: Which do you mean, Lucca's eyes or Constantin's eyes?
action: You show the coin to Lucca
response: Brother Lucca is unimpressed.
action: Wear the bedding
response: You're already wearing that!
action: Go north
response: Ignatius's room does not smell as strongly as the others. He has spent so much time in the infirmary of late, taking care of the sick. He is a braver man than you. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the south.
action: You look at the bed
response: A simple mattress on four wooden legs: the same as all the others.
action: You go to the north-east
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

A scraping sound comes from Constantin's cell, forming an eerie melody with the sobs from Matteo's.

He seems to have made himself right at home. The room smells of animals and sweat; scratches adorn the bed and lead out the door to the southwest.
action: You examine scratches
response: Scratches line the posts. Some from claws, some from metal.
action: Smell
response: Sweat and animals: wet dog, or something similar.
action: You go southwest
response: This room is small: the same as all the others. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the northeast.
action: You look at the bed
response: A simple mattress on four wooden legs: the same as all the others.
action: You go to the north-east
response: Nestled in the northeast corner of the cloister, the bell tower rises high: higher than the steeples of the church. Footsteps cut a line in the snow from the cloister to the southwest to the tower itself in the northeast.
action: You ask Constantin about the cellar
response: "What?" he startles. "I'll get around to taking the lock off. There's no food left down there anyway." His eyes darken as they meet yours. "There's no reason to go down there anymore."

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: Go northeast
response: You can go only north, northwest or out.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Go northeast
response: Nestled in the northeast corner of the cloister, the bell tower rises high: higher than the steeples of the church. Footsteps cut a line in the snow from the cloister to the southwest to the tower itself in the northeast.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You look at the tower
response: The tower rises above all else.
action: Go northeast
response: Panting more than a little, you make your way up the stairs to the top.

High above the rest of Saint Cuthbert's, the tower affords a view of the surrounding land. In the spring, it is quite beautiful: now all you see is the endless moonlit glow of snow. Snow in the trees. Snow in the mountains. Snow.

The bell sways in the breeze, its tongue almost, but never, touching the sides.

Brother Matteo leans against the rails, staring into the wind.
action: You examine Matteo
response: He looks tired and heavy. He doesn't so much as lean on the rails as use them as crutch. His frock billows about him in the icy wind; he no longer has the will to bundle it about himself.
action: You examine the matteo's eyes
response: They sink into his skull. His eyelids can barely be bothered to remain open.
action: You ring bell
response: (the bell)
The bell clangs. You have never been this close when it has before. Your ears sting for a bit before settling down.
action: You talk to Matteo
response: "How are you Matteo?" you ask, leaning up on the rails beside him.

He turns, a friendly smile on his face. "I don't even know anymore." He gives an exaggerated shrug.
action: You ask Matteo about the murder
response: He may have heard you, but he seems to prefer to listen to the wind.
action: You ask Matteo about the plague
response: "It's funny the ways illness and isolation can affect things. Our bodies are the least of our concerns."

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You ask Matteo about yourself
response: "I know we have had our problems, but I hope to put them behind us. It is a time for forgiveness."
action: You ask Matteo about Lucca
response: "Poor Lucca," he sighs. "I wish I could protect him, but his time is near."
action: You ask Matteo about the cellar
response: "Ah, yes." He pauses. "The cellar." He chuckles to himself.
action: You ask Matteo about Constantin
response: "He would never admit it, but he is sick. The plague wears on him. He won't last much longer."
action: You ask Matteo about Drogo
response: "Poor Drogo," he sighs, looking down upon the refectory. "But at least his madness is on the surface, where we can see it." Was that glance at you?
action: You ask Matteo about the madness
response: He may have heard you, but he seems to prefer to listen to the wind.
action: You ask Matteo about the bell
response: "It's beautiful up here, isn't it. God's blanket to the Earth."
action: You ask Matteo about God
response: "He is gone, you know." He looks at you intently. "And with him, his protection."
action: You ask Matteo about praying
response: "I barely have the energy anymore."
action: You ask Matteo about the cheese
response: "I have little appetite these days."
action: Smell
response: The wind drives needles of chill up your nose: you smell nothing.
action: Smell Matteo
response: Mildew.
action: You ask Matteo about Matteo
response: "I'm fine," he sighs. "I just want to sleep."
action: 1
response: Enter saved game to store: Ok.
action: You go to the south-east
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You go southeast
response: (opening the calefactory door)

Positioned directly between the dormitory and your own room, the calefactory warms both, although lately it is less than adequate. While the calefactory itself is stiflingly hot, its heat stays confined. Your brow grows damp: your body, feverish. Slightly melted snow creeps in from the cloister to the northwest.
action: You remove the blanket
response: You take off the bedding.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: Positioned directly between the dormitory and your own room, the calefactory warms both, although lately it is less than adequate. While the calefactory itself is stiflingly hot, its heat stays confined. Your brow grows damp: your body, feverish. Slightly melted snow creeps in from the cloister to the northwest.
action: Wear blanket
response: You put on the bedding.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
some food
a coin
some bedding (being worn)
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You remove the frock
response: You would freeze.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You look at the fire
response: Pig fat and twine. Still, it holds its flame very well. Beads of oil drip from near the flame, running down the sides and coating them with slime.
action: Go northwest
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.
action: Go north
response: Church (in the pews)
Since you relegated the brothers to pray on their own, except for Mass, the church has been all but empty. Rows of pews part down the centre, ushering you up to the chancel in the north opposite the cloister in the south. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

The Saints smile cheerfully down upon you from their colorful windows.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: You examine the frescos
response: The soaring vaults are as vast and open as the arms of God. Frescoes depict the fall of Satan, with angels singing as they cut down the wicked.
action: You examine the cross
response: The cross stands tall upon the chancel.
action: You examine the font
response: The bronze glows warmly in the candlelight, like it has at many a Mass.
action: You hit the Satan
response: He is too high.
action: You pray to Satan
response: You close your eyes, and prepare yourself. "Please, Satan," you begin. The words are hard. They cut your throat as they leave. "Please, Satan, deliver me from the plague, and you shall have my soul." The words sink through the Earth: slowly, like black tar.

A flock of dismembered hands reach up through the ground, stealing away the black and disease that ravages your body, both seen and unseen. They swirl and dance, before sinking back to the ground. One lingers. It crawls up your leg and across your chest. It dives in, and emerges clutching a tiny ball of light in its bony finger. The hand drops back to the Earth with its prize and slinks away.

It is done.
action: Look around
response: Church (in the pews)
Cedar pews line the path from the chancel in the north to the cloister to the south, their surfaces cold. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

The Saints smile cheerfully down upon you from their colorful windows.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: You examine Saints
response: Finely wrought stained glass windows line the vaulted ceiling of the church, their frames holding within them the images of Saints Francis of Assisi, Medard of Noyon, Drausinus, and Cuthbert.
action: You examine Cuthbert
response: Saint Cuthbert leans proudly upon his staff even though he appears stricken with illness. A dog licks at his leg, soothing the blister upon it.
action: You look at the assisi
response: Saint Francis stands: birds on his shoulders and wolves at his feet. His face is calm.
action: You examine noyon
response: The snow flies against the glass, but refuses to stick. Medard stands tall, with an eagle's outstretched wings above him.
action: You examine the drausinus
response: An assassin approaches from the darkness, but a shroud of light reveals him to Saint Drausinus. He is safe.
action: You examine Ignatius
response: The scar through his left eye having left him half-blind, Ignatius makes up for it by staring twice as hard at the candles with his good eye. The eye refuses to blink.
action: You look at the candles
response: The flames are steady and warming to your heart.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "How are you, Ignatius?" you ask, laying your hand on his shoulder.

He startles, whirling around, his bad eye twitching and shuddering. "Oh, father. You spooked me." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, what did you ask."
action: You ask Ignatius about himself
response: "I was wondering how you were doing."

"Oh, fine." He relaxes, turning back to the candles. "Just fine."
action: You ask Ignatius about yourself
response: "You're an excellent priest and a perfect abbott. We are lucky to have you."
action: You ask Ignatius about Lucca
response: "Such a sweet boy. He's not taking it here so well though."
action: You ask Ignatius about Matteo
response: "He's up in the tower," Ignatius spits angrily. "He's always up there, watching."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You ask Ignatius about the tower
response: "Matteo's up there right now. He's always up there."
action: You ask Ignatius about the constatin
response: "Shhh, father." He holds a finger to his lips. "I am trying to pray."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You ask Ignatius about Constantin
response: "He has done well in clearing the bodies from the infirmary. He works so fast."
action: You ask Ignatius about the cellar
response: "I think it's empty."
action: You ask Ignatius about Drogo
response: "He was so docile when I cared for him in the infirmary. Now, he's different. Darker."
action: You ask Ignatius about the food
response: "You might try the kitchen."
action: You ask Ignatius about the wolves
response: "Shhh, father." He holds a finger to his lips. "I am trying to pray."
action: You ask Ignatius about the cat
response: "Shhh, father." He holds a finger to his lips. "I am trying to pray."

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You ask Ignatius about the plague
response: "God is upset. Europe is falling. This plague is his curse," he drones in a peculiar, monotonous voice.
action: You ask Ignatius about God
response: "He watches, unblinking," while Ignatius's eye twitches.
action: You ask Ignatius about praying
response: "What do you pray for, Brother?" You ask.

"That we might live till spring, father." He pauses. "We are running very low on food."
action: You show the cheese to Ignatius
response: Brother Ignatius is unimpressed.
action: You ask Ignatius about Satan
response: "He is everywhere. The world is his dancing grounds."
action: You ask Ignatius about the plague
response: "God is upset. Europe is falling. This plague is his curse," he drones in a peculiar, monotonous voice.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You ask Ignatius about the europe
response: "Shhh, father." He holds a finger to his lips. "I am trying to pray."

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You touch the cross
response: It feels rough on your fingers.
action: You look at the water
response: The water is clear and clean: it sparkles in the candlelight and dances with your breath.
action: You take the cut
response: That seems to be a part of the (misc_shadow).
action: You take the water
response: The water tastes sweet as it slides its way into your belly.
action: You touch the water
response: It is cool: not the harsh cool of everything else in this place, but rather a peaceful chill.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
some food
a coin
some bedding
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You ask Ignatius about the eye
response: "Shhh, father." He holds a finger to his lips. "I am trying to pray."
action: You ask Ignatius about the candles
response: "They are beautiful, are they not?" You ask, gesturing at the flickering lights.

"Truly, it is the face of God." He replies, not moving his eye for an instant.
action: You blow out the candle
response: Best not.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You show the arm to Ignatius
response: (first taking the cut)
That seems to be a part of the (misc_shadow).
action: You ask Ignatius about the infirmary
response: "There are still a few survivors," he shakes his head, "But they are fading fast: probably won't last the night."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: Go north
response: Church (on the chancel)
You have spent many a solemn Mass up here, gazing out unto a sea of your brethren. Now, all you see is a sea of empty pews to the south.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

A beautiful glass case holds the body of Saint Cuthbert near the base of the chancel.

The lectern stands in the centre of the chancel, the Bible atop it shining with gold filigree.

The Saints smile cheerfully down upon you from their colorful windows.
action: You examine the body
response: He is so calm: so serene. His body is unblemished by the centuries that have passed. Truly, he is incorruptible. He even smells divine, as though flowers were growing beneath him.
action: Smell body
response: Sweet like flowers or incense.
action: You examine the glass
response: Which do you mean, Saint Cuthbert or the Saints?
action: Open case
response: It is fused glass with no hinges. You would have to break it.
action: You examine Bible
response: Ah, the Bible. How many times has it been there for you? When your heart is heavy, you often come to read it, and reflect upon its wisdom. Now, though, you find it intruding upon your thoughts during the most mundane of tasks. Passages spring to you unbidden: filling your ears with the words of God. Filling your mind with... What? It is currently open to Ecclesiastes 9:3.
action: You read Bible
response: Ecclesiastes 9:3

"This is an evil among all things that are done under the sun, that there is one event unto all: yea, also the heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and madness is in their heart while they live, and after that they go to the dead."
action: You look at lectern
response: The lectern stands with more strength and confidence than you do of late. Its support of the Bible unwaivering.
action: You burn Bible
response: It does not light. The dampness spoils everything here.
action: You break cuthbert
response: The slam of your fist shatters the glass, sending it cascading over the Saint's body.
action: You examine the body
response: He is so calm: so serene. His body is unblemished by the centuries that have passed. Truly, he is incorruptible. He even smells divine, as though flowers were growing beneath him.
action: You eat the body
response: You dig your teeth into his flesh. It yields like butter, but it burns. Burns your teeth. Burns your throat. It settles in your stomach and burns there too.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You take the cuthbert's glass
response: You are too weak.
action: Look around
response: Church (on the chancel)
You have spent many a solemn Mass up here, gazing out unto a sea of your brethren. Now, all you see is a sea of empty pews to the south.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

Saint Cuthbert lies in a bed of broken glass.

The lectern stands in the centre of the chancel, the Bible atop it shining with gold filigree.

The Saints smile cheerfully down upon you from their colorful windows.
action: Go south
response: Church (in the pews)
Cedar pews line the path from the chancel in the north to the cloister to the south, their surfaces cold. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The Saints smile cheerfully down upon you from their colorful windows.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: You ask Ignatius about Cuthbert
response: "So pure. We truly are blessed to have him here."
action: Go south
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs open, as poor as the people it is meant to help.

As you enter the hall, you hear a feeble rasping at the southern door.

"Please, help me. Is anyone in there?" A faint voice calls over the wind.

"Please, I have traveled for days. Rovato is a graveyard. The rats have eaten everything."
action: You close alms
response: (the alms box)
You close the alms box.

"Please. It is so cold."
action: You open the door
response: Pushing the bar out of the way, you open the door, allowing a frail figure and a drift of snow to spill into the hall.

Before you, fingers bloody and face as pale as the snow it lies in, is a young woman. Her clothing is little more than tatters with stains of blood from where her hands were resting.

"Please," she gasps, raising herself up for a moment. "I am so cold." With that, she returns her face to the icy ground.
action: You give blanket to the girl
response: Her slumber is too deep.
action: You put the blanket on girl
response: Perhaps if you get her somewhere more comfortable first.
action: You take the girl
response: With more than a little trouble, you hoist the girl into your arms. Your knees feel as though they might buckle but hold for now.
action: You look at the woman
response: For all her cuts and tattered clothes, she is still exceedingly beautiful. Her skin, while pale, is unblemished. In fact, no sign of the plague can be seen within her at all. She is perfection.
action: Kiss woman
response: Your knees are beginning to buckle. You had better do something with her before trying anything else.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.
action: You go to the west
response: You turn sideways and slide into the locutory, careful not to catch the young woman's head on the frame.

The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

Near the door to the east is a fireplace, its embers cold for days.
action: You put the girl on bed
response: You lay the young girl on the bed, and she immediately relaxes. Her eyes remain closed but no longer twitch with discomfort.
action: You put the blanket on girl
response: You drape your bedding over the girl, and she seems to calm down a bit.
action: You ask girl about plague
response: She sleeps; she cannot hear.
action: Smell girl
response: Sweet. Delicious.

Tempting.
action: Kiss girl
response: You kiss her gently. She is soft. So soft. She tastes good.
action: You examine the eyes
response: Which do you mean, Ignatius's eye, Matteo's eyes, Lucca's eyes or Constantin's eyes?
action: Describe the surroundings
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

Near the door to the east is a fireplace, its embers cold for days.

The girl sleeps upon the bed, turning fitfully every now and then.
action: You examine the tinderbox
response: A small box containing some flint, steel, and tinder. You always keep it close should your candle be snuffed by the wind.
action: Go outside
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.
action: You go to the south
response: The last hint of shelter against the outside world. But it is only a hint. The wind rushes by like a stream of ice water to the south: only the curve of the arch protects you. The warmth, for as much as it can be called that, of the monastery awaits to the north and the cold of outside to the south.
action: You examine the arch
response: The tapered blocks fit together in a crooked fashion; they seem as though they could slip at a moment's notice. Still, the archways shields you from the wind.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You go south
response: The wind gusts at your candle and bites at your feet. To venture out in the darkness would be suicide.
action: You close the door
response: You close the outside door.
action: Go east
response: The room is small; the same as all the others. But it seems smaller of late. The hall extends to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the side other is your bed.
action: You enter the bed
response: You get onto the bed.
action: Sleep
response: You're not tired yet. At least, not tired enough for bed.
action: Keep going
response: With as much effort as it took to move the desk in the first place, you slide it back against the wall. You're getting too old for this. Beads of sweat pooling into your eyebrows, you heave the desk towards the door. A few of your joints crack a bit, but you manage to move the desk.
With as much effort as it took to move the desk in the first place, you slide it back against the wall. You're getting too old for this. Beads of sweat pooling into your eyebrows, you heave the desk towards the door. A few of your joints crack a bit, but you manage to move the desk.
With as much effort as it took to move the desk in the first place, you slide it back against the wall. You're getting too old for this. Beads of sweat pooling into your eyebrows, you heave the desk towards the door. A few of your joints crack a bit, but you manage to move the desk.
With as much effort as it took to move the desk in the first place, you slide it back against the wall. You're getting too old for this.
action: You go to the west
response: (opening the bedroom door)
You'll have to get off the bed first.
action: You get up
response: You get off the bed.

The room is small; the same as all the others. But it seems smaller of late. The hall extends to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the side other is your bed.
action: Go outside
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You tell Ignatius about the girl
response: "Listen to her, she will save us all."

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You ask Ignatius about the girl
response: "Listen to her, she will save us all."
action: You ask Ignatius about the salvation
response: "Shhh, father." He holds a finger to his lips. "I am trying to pray."
action: You pray for the girl
response: She isn't here: in body, at least.
action: You pray for Ignatius
response: You say a few hollow words. They dry and crumble in your mouth.
action: You examine Saints
response: Finely wrought stained glass windows line the vaulted ceiling of the church, their frames holding within them the images of Saints Francis of Assisi, Medard of Noyon, Drausinus, and Cuthbert.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You pray to the mary
response: She is warm. Her embrace fills you with joy.
action: Sing
response: Your days in the choir are long behind you.
action: You take the candles
response: You already have your own.
action: You look at the pews
response: Their cedar frames are worn with the weight of many Masses upon them. You have spent so much time on them of late that you barely feel their roughness any more.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You sit
response: (on top of the pews)
You get onto the pews.
action: You stand
response: You get off the pews.

Church (in the pews)
Cedar pews line the path from the chancel in the north to the cloister to the south, their surfaces cold. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The Saints smile cheerfully down upon you from their colorful windows.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: You tell Drogo about the girl
response: "I do so love visitors!" he squeals.
action: You cut vines
response: Cutting those up would achieve little.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You search vines
response: You find nothing of interest.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: Go south
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.
action: Go west
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

Near the door to the east is a fireplace, its embers cold for days.

The girl sleeps upon the bed, turning fitfully every now and then.
action: Light fire
response: After much coaxing, you finally get the wet logs to ignite. The flame is weak, but it will do.

The warmth is finally enough for her to stir.

"Food," she says. "Please."

With that, she passes back into slumber.
action: You give the food to the girl
response: "Here," you say, holding out the food. "I have brought you something to eat."

Finally, the girl stirs awake and quickly grabs the food from your hands. "Thank you," she says as she shoves the food into her mouth. Within moments, the few crumbs you had given her are gone, and she finally seems content.
action: You talk to girl
response: She starts slowly.

"Thank you for your kindness, father." She starts, extending her hand for the pax. "My name is Cec--" Just then, her words are cut off by the sound of a bell ringing in the distance. Her eyes widen and the blood drains from her cheeks.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," you say, taking her hand gently. "It is only the bell of Compline."

"That is why I am afraid." Her chin drops to her chest.
action: You ask the girl about bell
response: "Go now, we will talk soon," she replies through heavy tears.

The bell continues its toll. Four. Five. Six... In place of the seventh ring is a scream. A scream that rips in from the cloister and silences the wind.

The girl places her head in her hands with a slight sob. "I am sorry, Father." Then, turning. "And to you too."
action: You talk to girl
response: "What do you mean?" you ask.

The girl turns her tear-stained eyes to you. "You'll see,"
action: Go north
response: There will be no garden here come spring. It is hard to imagine the snow will ever melt.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church squats to the north, Her spires clawing at the sky as She tries to climb away from the Earth.

"Oh, my God!" You hear someone cry from the northeast. "Matteo!"
action: Go northeast
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo lies upon the ground, blood trickling from the side of his head. Lucca kneels by his side.

The remaining brothers are gathered around the body, shouting.

Drogo jumps up and down, rubbing his hands with glee. "It begins," he squeals to you through a wide grin.

A rather violent cough shakes your body. Mucus cakes your nose.
action: Punch drogo
response: You are too weak.

Constantin strides forward and smacks Lucca across the face, sending him sprawling into the snow. "Get away from him, murderer!" He shouts, eyes burning.

"Constantin!" Ignatius shouts defiantly, stepping between the two. Although Constantin towers above him, Ignatius looks taller than you have ever seen him. "Leave the boy alone."

Drogo giggles.
action: You look at Matteo
response: He looks so calm. Tiny snowflakes trace the creases in his face, lingering longer and longer as time passes. His mouth fills with snow.

"But he is a murderer!" Constantin replies, stepping back, face flushed.

"I know that as well as you. But that does not excuse you from God's wishes."
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," is his only reply.

"We will lock him up in the cellar, then the father can decide what to do with him." Ignatius continues.

Constantin chews his lip, releasing a tiny drop of blood. "No, the cellar will not do. We will lock him in the calefactory."

"Fine, fine. As you wish."
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "Shut up, father," he barks. For a moment he seems about to apologize, but he doesn't.

With that, Constantin hoists Lucca by the shoulders and shoves him towards the calefactory.

Ignatius turns towards you and says. "You should get some sleep, father. We all should. You can get to the bottom of all this in the morning." He turns and walks towards the dormitory.
action: Look around
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo's corpse lies upon the ground, the blood freezing to his face.

Drogo grins at you.

Drogo grins at you. "Oh, the fun we'll have!"

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "Why do they think Lucca did it?" You ask.

"Because he did." He replies, confused. "Why else would one think such a thing?"

"I mean, how do they know he did it."

"Oh, well that isn't what you asked, now is it, father?" He continues. "Well, when we got here, Brother Lucca was already here saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'"
action: You talk to Matteo
response: Silence.
action: Pray
response: (to God)
Nothing. You cannot feel him.

The day is beginning to catch up with you. You yawn with a lot more force than you would have thought necessary.
action: You ask Drogo about yourself
response: "You're wonderful," Drogo squeals, embracing you. "If only we were all so old and lumpy!"
action: You ask Drogo about Satan
response: "They say he is everywhere..." his voice drops and his eyes widen in terror at something behind you. You whirl around. Nothing.

"Just having a little fun with you, father." He laughs.
action: You take the body
response: Matteo was a large man. You cannot move him.
action: You ask Drogo about Matteo
response: "What happened, Drogo?" You ask.

"Well, the way I see it is that Matteo wanted to fly, but God said 'No, Matteo. Flying is for birds. You are not a bird, and shouldn't wish to be.'" Drogo starts. "Matteo was not happy with that --you know how he can be sometimes-- but he thought God would be mad if he tried to fly on his own. So Lucca helped him."
action: You ask Drogo about Lucca
response: "Lucky Lucca!" Drogo exclaims. "He gets the heat, and we get the cold. Maybe I should murder someone too!" He grins, but not as laughingly as you would hope.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo's corpse lies upon the ground, the blood freezing to his face.

Drogo grins at you.
action: You pray for Drogo
response: You say a few hollow words. They dry and crumble in your mouth.
action: You go southwest
response: "Sweet dreams, father!" Drogo calls out to you as he disappears into the black.

There will be no garden here come spring. It is hard to imagine the snow will ever melt.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church squats to the north, Her spires clawing at the sky as She tries to climb away from the Earth.
action: About yourself
response: You're not the man you were a few days ago. Your skin hangs as sallow drapes around your jaw: your hands are emaciated. Your frock billows about you; it is difficult to find any flesh within. A scratch lines your arm from wrist to elbow; it is only a strip of dried blood now.

Running your hand across your neck, you find a small lump hidden within the folds of skin. It is tender.
action: You look at the lump
response: There is nothing you can do with it. It is a part of you.
action: Go northeast
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo's corpse lies upon the ground, the blood freezing to his face.
action: Up
response: Panting more than a little, you make your way up the stairs to the top.

You are sure that other things exist, but for now all there is is Matteo lying on the ground below. From here, he could easily be alive. He smiles at you.

No, not a smile: a sneer. He is laughing at you. Laughing because you are still trapped. He was always laughing.

The bell sways in the breeze, its tongue almost, but never, touching the sides.
action: You ring bell
response: (the bell)
The bell clangs and stings your ears.
action: You look at the note
response: Written in a slothful scrawl:

I would normally write in my journal, but in my increasing paranoia, I have hidden it. Now, I kick myself as it seems so far away. Everything is so far away: such a burden. Lucca has been pestering me to tell him what I know, but I can't. It burdens me so; I cannot do that to someone so pure.

I can take it no more. I don't care if I burn for eternity, I must leave this place. The Devil walks Saint Cuthbert's in the hearts and minds of my brothers: in me.

I'm sorry, Lucca.
action: You take the note
response: You already have that.
action: Go southwest
response: There will be no garden here come spring. It is hard to imagine the snow will ever melt.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church squats to the north, Her spires clawing at the sky as She tries to climb away from the Earth.
action: You go to the north
response: Church (in the pews)
Uncomfortable looking pews part before you, leading up to the chancel in the north. High above, dipping in and out of shadow, is the ceiling: the frescoes dance in the flicker of candlelight.

Shrinking into the back of the chancel is a wooden cross. It does not tower, only sit.

The Saints smile sadly at you from their glass houses.

The font slouches towards the base of the chancel.
action: You examine the font
response: The bronze is dim: hints of green and grey creep from the water and slide to the base.
action: You examine the cross
response: The cross stands tall upon the chancel.
action: You go north
response: Church (on the chancel)
You have spent many a solemn Mass up here, gazing out unto a sea of your brethren. Now, all you see is a sea of empty pews to the south.

Shrinking into the back of the chancel is a wooden cross. It does not tower, only sit.

The Saints smile sadly at you from their glass houses.

A dry, dusty case holds Saint Cuthbert's corpse. The dust sticks to your damp skin, and the smell dries your nose.

The lectern sits with the Bible atop it. The Bible sinks away from your eyes.
action: You read Bible
response: Ecclesiastes 9:3

"This is an evil among all things that are done under the sun, that there is one event unto all: yea, also the heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and madness is in their heart while they live, and after that they go to the dead."
action: You take Bible
response: It is bolted, by chain, to the lectern.
action: You look at the chain
response: That holds little interest for you.
action: Go south
response: Church (in the pews)
Uncomfortable looking pews part before you, leading up to the chancel in the north. High above, dipping in and out of shadow, is the ceiling: the frescoes dance in the flicker of candlelight.

Shrinking into the back of the chancel is a wooden cross. It does not tower, only sit.

The Saints smile sadly at you from their glass houses.

The font slouches towards the base of the chancel.
action: Go south
response: There will be no garden here come spring. It is hard to imagine the snow will ever melt.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church squats to the north, Her spires clawing at the sky as She tries to climb away from the Earth.
action: You go east
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.
action: Go north
response: Ignatius's room does not smell as strongly as the others. He has spent so much time in the infirmary of late, taking care of the sick. He is a braver man than you. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the south.

Ignatius sits upon his bed, preparing to go to sleep.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "Do you believe that Lucca did it?" you ask.

"I don't know," he replies calmly. "But it's best to be safe. I never would have thought Lucca could've had it in him, but these trying times make demons of us all." He glances at you pointedly.
action: You show the note to Ignatius
response: Better keep this to yourself.
action: You ask Ignatius about the demons
response: "I am busy right now, father." He replies abruptly.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "What do you mean?"

He thinks for a moment, and looks to the ceiling. "It's just that in these times we can sometimes find ourselves doing things we never thought we had in us."
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "Like what?"

His shoulders tighten. "If it's all the same to you, father," he says, straightening out his bed. "I think I would like to get some sleep."
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "If it's all the same to you, father," he says, straightening out his bed. "I think I would like to get some sleep."
action: You go to the south
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.
action: You go south
response: It's not like you saw Matteo in here much; he was always in the tower. Still, it feels empty knowing he's gone. North leads out.

One of the flagstones is tinted with blood.
action: You examine the blood
response: The stone looks the same as them all, except for the liberal amounts of blood drying in to the cracks.
action: Go north
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You go to the northeast
response: He seems to have made himself right at home. The room smells of animals and sweat; scratches adorn the bed and lead out the door to the southwest.
action: You go southeast
response: Constantin is one of the few brothers with anything in his room besides a bed. A smell lingers here: a sour smell.

Constantin goes about preparing himself for bed.

A skinned rabbit sits on the floor, its muscles shimmering in the light.
action: You examine the rabbit
response: Sinews and muscles bound together in a shining lump.
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "Do you really believe that Lucca could have done it?" you ask.

"Of course I do," he says angrily, the rage returning to his eyes. "We found him next to the body, mumbling 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' over and over again."
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "But it's Lucca," you retort.

"I know that!" he snarls. "But he's different now. He must have snapped under all of this."
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "Get out, father," he growls, "I want to sleep."
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "Get out, father," he growls, "I want to sleep."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You go to the northwest
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.
action: You go southwest
response: This room is small: the same as all the others. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the northeast.
action: You go to the south-east
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

You can hear Lucca gibber softly beyond the door.
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "About the murder, Lucca..." you ask.

"What murder?"
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "You remember, Lucca; Matteo was thrown from the tower."

"No he wasn't." Lucca responds, incredulous. "He must have jumped."
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "Why did Matteo jump?" You ask.

A long, heavy silence. "Because he was smart."
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "Why was Matteo smart to jump?"

"Because he knew what was happening here, at Saint Cuthbert's."
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "What did he know was happening?"

Lucca chuckles. "Well if I knew that, I probably would have jumped too."

A rather violent cough shakes your body. Mucus cakes your nose.
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "Please, father," he sighs. "I just want to be alone."
action: You go to the southeast
response: (opening the calefactory door)
Constantin has put a lock on the door. It is sturdy.
action: You go northwest
response: There will be no garden here come spring. It is hard to imagine the snow will ever melt.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church squats to the north, Her spires clawing at the sky as She tries to climb away from the Earth.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Go west
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.
action: You go south
response: The dead don't eat, or so you've been told. Still, the kitchen is practically empty. Bare tables stand with no crumbs on them, and a hatch through the floor leads to the cellar. The refectory lies to the north.

A cutlery rack sits on one of the tables.

A bare cupboard sits up against the wall.

A rather violent cough shakes your body. Mucus cakes your nose.
action: You go to the west
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.

The girl sobs gently, head in her hands.
action: You talk to the girl
response: "How did you know that that would happen? Who are you? Why did you come?" The questions come faster than the words.

"Calm down, father," she says, laying a hand on your wrist. It warms to the touch and spreads life and joy and peace through your body. "I am here to help. My name is Cecilia"
action: You show the arm to the girl
response: (first taking the cut)
That seems to be a part of the (misc_shadow).
action: You show note to the girl
response: Better keep this to yourself.
action: You talk to the girl
response: "God sent me, but I am weak. My strength depends on the faithful, and your brethren have lost their way. Even now they conspire against you. And me." She casts a frightened glance towards the door.

"Please pray to me, father, when you go to bed. I need your strength in the midst of this wickedness."

A rather violent cough shakes your body. Mucus cakes your nose.
action: Fb20
response: Enter saved game to store: Ok.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: You can talk directly to her.
action: You talk to the girl
response: "Go now, father," she says, turning over in your blanket. "Sleep." She casts once last look at you before closing her eyes. "But be careful, there are many that intend you harm here."
action: Go east
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.

A rather violent cough shakes your body. Mucus cakes your nose.
action: Go east
response: The room is small; the same as all the others. But it seems smaller of late. The hall extends to the west.

Pushed up against the wall on one side is the desk, its surface sagging slightly in the middle. The dampness is taking its toll.

Your bed calls to you from the side of the room. Her song is sweet, but it sings of treachery.
action: Pray
response: (to God)
Nothing. You cannot feel him.
action: You pray for the girl
response: She isn't here: in body, at least.
action: You pray to the girl
response: The moment the words cross your lips, a soft glow spreads throughout the room.

"I am here, father. Thank you for your strength; it helps me. But be careful, there are many who intend you harm here. Sleep wisely, father. We will speak in the morning."

Her words drift off into the night, and you feel alone once more.
action: Sleep
response: You lay your head down on the cold, hard bed and drift off to sleep faster than you expected.

A few hours later, you are awoken by a strange scuffling sound outside.
action: You open the door
response: The moment you remove the desk's weight from the door, the door flies open, and a cowled figure leaps into the room. Although it is dark, you can see the glinting of the knife more clearly than anything you have ever seen. Fitting, as it is the last thing you do see before it slides across your throat.
action: You listen
response: It sounds as through someone is trying force your door open quietly. The desk holds them back.
action: You hide under bed
response: You hide beneath your bed, and pray to see morning's light.
action: You listen
response: Returning to your cold bed, you sleep until morning.

You awake to the sound of a sharp pounding at your door.

"Father!" Constantin's growl is clear. "Wake up, Lucca has escaped!"

Morning light streams through the window, but it is a cold, heavy light.
action: You open the door
response: Constantin waits impatiently for you in the hall.

"Hurry up, father!" Another knock.
action: You examine Constantin
response: He's in the hall.
action: You go outside
response: (opening the bedroom door)

There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

Constantin stands impatiently, face flushed.

Cecilia watches from her doorway.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.

"It's about time. Come with me." He grumbles as he stomps off to the cloister.
action: You talk to Cecilia
response: "Lucca didn't escape," she whispers to you. Her breath is soft on your ear.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You talk to Cecilia
response: "No, go with Constantin," she says, returning to the locutory. "I will tell you soon enough."
action: You go north
response: The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.
action: Go southeast
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

"See," he shouts, pointing aggressively to a gaping hole where the lock used to be. "The bastard kicked it out from inside."
action: You examine the hole
response: The broken boards are smashed inwards and there are no splinters on this side. A slight hint of red sparkles on the wood.

Constantin starts mumbling curses under his breath as he pulls some tools from his belt and begins repairing the door.
action: You talk to Constantin about the hole
response: "I'm trying to work," he growls.
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "What makes you think he escaped?" you ask, running your hand over the door.

"Because the door's broken, you idiot!" he shouts, his face burning. "No one else would want that murderer walking Saint Cuthbert's."
action: You talk to Constantin
response: "But..." you try.

"Just shut up, father, and leave me to my work."
action: You examine the tools
response: A hammer. Some nails. Constantin usually carries them everywhere.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You examine the door
response: The broken boards are smashed inwards and there are no splinters on this side. A slight hint of red sparkles on the wood.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: You examine the blood
response: The broken boards are smashed inwards and there are no splinters on this side. A slight hint of red sparkles on the wood.
action: You open the door
response: The door is jammed and broken now; it does not open.
action: You examine the hammer
response: A hammer. Some nails. Constantin usually carries them everywhere.
action: You take the hammer
response: Constantin strikes your hand, hard, with the hammer. "Touch them again, and it will be your head," he growls without even glancing towards you.
action: You take the hammer
response: Before you can react, Constantin slams the hammer into the side of your skull. A crack. A few stars. A gibbered apology and hot breath in your mouth.

Then darkness.
action: You look through the hole
response: Looking through the hole, you can see little.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

Constantin goes about repairing the door, hands moving swiftly.
action: You ask Constantin about the cellar
response: "What?" he startles. "I'll get around to taking the lock off. There's no food left down there anyway." His eyes darken as they meet yours. "There's no reason to go down there anymore."
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a hare
Matteo's note
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
a coin
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You show hare to Constantin
response: Constantin is unimpressed.
action: You eat the hare
response: The blood is still warm. It stains your lips and soothes your hunger.
action: Go northwest
response: The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.

You see Drogo strolling past to the south before he catches sight of you and waves.

"Father!" Drogo squeals, skipping towards you. "I was just about to come find you. You must come with me! It is so beautiful!" He says, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you towards the church.
action: Look around
response: The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.

Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Drogo grins widely as he drags you up to the chancel.

"Come, father." His eyes glow with childlike enthusiasm, but his grip is of steel. "We are almost there!"

Something is different at the far end of the chancel. Is it?

Good Lord.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You hit Drogo
response: That would be difficult with Drogo dragging you.

Church (on the chancel)
Was your time wasted up here? Was it all for naught? As you look to the empty pews to the south, you wonder how it has helped anyone.

Drogo stands proudly and looks to you for approval, his grin tentative.

"Look, father!" he says, dragging you before the cross. "I made it all by myself."

Looking up, you see what Drogo was so excited about. Matteo dangles crucified from the cross, vicious holes in his hands and feet.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: You say a few short words to Cecilia.

She can do nothing for you, right now.

"Well, father. Isn't it beautiful?" Drogo stands, gripping your wrist tightly and nodding proudly to himself.
action: You look at Matteo
response: Matteo's corpse dangles from the cross. The wounds in his head, hands, and feet sparkle with crystals of frozen blood, and his eyes stare through you to nothing.

Jesus always looked so beautiful on the cross. Matteo just looks dead.
action: You examine Drogo
response: His hair is pasted to his forehead with sweat. His eyes are wild and bloodshot.

Drogo strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. But it needs something." He looks confused for a moment, before flinging a hand in the air with a satisfied whistle. "And I know exactly what!"

Before you can move, he sprints out of the church.
action: Go south
response: Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.

The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.
action: You examine Saints
response: Dim stained glass windows block out the light but not the cold. They hold back Saint Francis of Assisi, Medard of Noyon, Drausinus, and Cuthbert.
action: You go north
response: Church (on the chancel)
Was your time wasted up here? Was it all for naught? As you look to the empty pews to the south, you wonder how it has helped anyone.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.

Saint Cuthbert sinks in his tomb, rot creeping in from his extremities.

The lectern is weak and brittle, barely able to support the weight of the massive tome upon it.
action: You examine Cuthbert
response: His skin is blotched and discolored, and his hair drops from a shriveled scalp.
action: You look at Bible
response: The Bible's pages are curled and brittle. Splits and cracks creep through the urine-colored pages.
action: You read Bible
response: You stare at the pages like you have so many times, but you cannot focus. The words spin and slide away from your eyes.
action: Go south
response: Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.

The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.
action: Go south
response: The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.
action: You tell Constantin about Matteo
response: "Damn Lucca. He'll burn in Hell for what he did."
action: You tell Constantin about Drogo
response: "Drogo crucified Matteo." Your words are flat, lifeless.

"Damnit," he slams the hammer extra hard, and turns to you. "Why did you let him out?" he massages the hammer gently. "Well, you deal with him, because if he comes around here, I can't guarantee his safety."
action: Go west
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.

Cecilia paces back and forth.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You talk to Cecilia
response: She closes her eyes. "I cannot hear much. God's voice is weak in this place. But I know Lucca did not escape. At least, not on his own."
action: You tell Cecilia about Matteo
response: "He died as he lived, in sin."

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You tell Cecilia about Lucca
response: "He did not escape: someone freed him."
action: You ask Cecilia about yourself
response: "I am here to help you; no one else can."

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Go east
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: Go south
response: (opening the outside door)

The last hint of shelter against the outside world. But it is only a hint. The wind rushes by like a stream of ice water to the south: only the curve of the arch protects you. The warmth, for as much as it can be called that, of the monastery awaits to the north and the cold of outside to the south.
action: You go to the south
response: The sun's light does nothing to warm you, but instead it burns your eyes with its fury: nothing like the cool darkness inside the monastery to the north. It is so bright that you can barely make out the stables to the east: they are just a darker square in a field of white. The infirmary is a little clearer to the west. A tangle of footsteps lead south to the gate.

A lone white dove flies off into the morning sun.
action: Examine dove
response: The dove is gone.
action: You examine the footsteps
response: There are two sets: one that goes both in and out, and another that only goes out. Mingled among them is a strange pattern in the snow. It looks as though someone was using two hot pokers as walking sticks, one in each hand. The melted holes cut through the snow, revealing scorch marks on the dead grass beneath.
action: Go east
response: In the shadow of the stables, you can make things out a little more clearly. Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence: with their caretakers dead, the horses starved. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

A bale of hay sits just slightly more than neck's length from the horses' stalls.
action: Smell
response: The sweat of panic is a different kind of sweat. The maddened horses reek of it. The cold has staved off their rot somewhat, but even now, it creeps through the air.
action: You examine the horses
response: No. You were wrong. Not all the horses starved. Some tried to escape. The gates are mashed and torn, but none of the horses were strong enough to break out. Their hooves are bloody and raw: their heads soft with bruises.

Wait. One still moves. She is sore and thin, but she lives.
action: You examine the horse
response: The horse stares at the bale of hay with wild eyes and scrapes at the ground with her hooves.
action: Pet horse
response: The horse whips her head at your touch.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a hare
Matteo's note
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
a coin
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You take the eyes
response: Which do you mean, Ignatius's eye, Matteo's eyes, Lucca's eyes or Constantin's eyes?
action: You give the hay to the horse
response: The horse hastily starts chomping at the hay. Within moments, the entire bale is gone.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

Her hunger satiated, the horse eyes you skittishly.
action: You talk to the horse
response: She whips her head and huffs at you.
action: Pet horse
response: The horse whips her head at your touch.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You go up
response: Grunting more than a little, you pull yourself up the ladder.

Stables (on the roof)
The smell is even worse up here. Snow weighs on the roof, causing it to sink in the middle. Sometimes hay is stored up here in the summer: now, the roof barely supports the snow.

Her hunger satiated, the horse eyes you skittishly.
action: You look at the horse
response: Her hunger satiated, the horse eyes you skittishly.
action: You ride the horse
response: Perhaps you should get down from the roof first.
action: You go down
response: You descend the ladder, the roof giving a sigh of relief as you do.

Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

Her hunger satiated, the horse eyes you skittishly.
action: You ride the horse
response: You can't; she is trapped in her stall.
action: Open stall
response: The horse eyes you as you open her stall, but makes no move to leave.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: Open stall
response: That's already open.
action: You ride the horse
response: The moment you touch her, she goes wild. The last thing you see is a flurry of hooves before you are knocked to the ground and trampled.

When they find you, you are little more than a bloody smear in the snow.
action: You go to the north-east
response: These gardens used to provide most of the food for the entire monastery. Now, none. A few black stalks poke through the snow, their appearance always perfectly predicted by the rows they were planted in. The wilderness is stronger here: twisted briars block all paths but the one southwest, back to the stables.

Drogo slashes wildly at the briars with a dull machete.

A low chorus of growls rises from the briars, singing with the swing of Drogo's blade.
action: You listen
response: The wind. Nothing more.
action: You look at the briars
response: The briars tumble over themselves in a frantic race to overtake the garden. They are all winning: the garden is overrun.

Flashes of yellow dart about in the darkness. Eyes.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: You examine the eyes
response: The briars tumble over themselves in a frantic race to overtake the garden. They are all winning: the garden is overrun.

Flashes of yellow dart about in the darkness. Eyes.
action: You take the eyes
response: A growl is the only response.
action: You enter the briars
response: Ouch! Winter rot has done nothing to dull their thorns.
action: Smell
response: The cold flies up your nose like needles: you smell nothing unusual.
action: You look at the machete
response: It is dull, but Drogo's fury makes its work easy.
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "What are you doing, Drogo?" You ask, almost afraid of the answer.

"Matteo needs something else. Something more," he says, going back to the briars. "You'll see. It'll be perfect."
action: You talk
response: (Drogo)
"Shhh, father. I need to find the perfect one."

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You ask Drogo about the wolf
response: "My dear friends. So much better than humans."
action: You take the machete
response: "No!" he squeals, drawing back. "It's mine! All mine!"
action: You throw the hare in the briars
response: Those can't contain things.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: Pet Drogo
response: That wouldn't do any good.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You kill the wolf
response: They burn with passion. No, desperation.

A growl is the only response.
action: You eat the wolf
response: A growl is the only response.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
Drogo's eyes
a hare
Matteo's note
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
a coin
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: You examine the stalks
response: Once upon a time, this was food. Now the rot has taken its hold.
action: You take the stalks
response: The blackened stalk crumbles in your hand.
action: You examine the briars
response: The briars tumble over themselves in a frantic race to overtake the garden. They are all winning: the garden is overrun.

Flashes of yellow dart about in the darkness. Eyes.
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "Shhh, father. I need to find the perfect one."

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "Shhh, father. I need to find the perfect one."
action: Go southwest
response: Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

Her hunger satiated, the horse eyes you skittishly.
action: You go west
response: The sun's light does nothing to warm you, but instead it burns your eyes with its fury: nothing like the cool darkness inside the monastery to the north. It is so bright that you can barely make out the stables to the east: they are just a darker square in a field of white. The infirmary is a little clearer to the west. A tangle of footsteps lead south to the gate.
action: Go south
response: Lightning has torn through the gate, leaving only dark, broken rocks in its place. Black scorch marks twist their way through the rubble: stone crumbs are all that remain in some places. The snow is caked in soot: usually it would be lined with many footsteps, now only a few disturb the inky darkness. The snow covered path winds its way back north to the monastery and south towards Rovato.

A series of strange mounds line the southern side of where the gate used to be.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You examine the gate
response: It is only a heap of stones now.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You examine the mounds
response: They are misshapen: uneven. You cannot tell what they are beneath the snow.
action: You dig the mound
response: Shoveling through the snow with frostbitten hands, you eventually strike a rock.

No. Not a rock. You push back the rest of the snow to uncover the icy, stone-hard face of a young woman. She has only two colors: black and white. Plague colors.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You examine the woman
response: Dozens of bodies line the wall: the villagers of Rovato.
action: You take the woman
response: The bodies are frozen together in a heap of flesh and ice.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: Broken stone and snow are all that remain here. A north-south path with but a few footsteps can be picked out through the rubble leading from the monastery towards Rovato.

A tangled mass of corpses lines the southern side of the former gate.
action: You look at the footsteps
response: There are two sets: one that goes both in and out, and another that only goes out. Mingled among them is a strange pattern in the snow. It looks as though someone was using two hot pokers as walking sticks, one in each hand. The melted holes cut through the snow, revealing scorch marks on the dead grass beneath.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: Go south
response: The fallen snow is too thick. You would not make it far on foot.
action: Go north
response: The sun's light does nothing to warm you, but instead it burns your eyes with its fury: nothing like the cool darkness inside the monastery to the north. It is so bright that you can barely make out the stables to the east: they are just a darker square in a field of white. The infirmary is a little clearer to the west. A tangle of footsteps lead south to the gate.
action: Go west
response: The infirmary stands well away from the rest of the monastery. Little good it has done, though. The plague still seeped its way in. A rickety door leads into the infirmary, and a well-worn path leads to the cemetery in the northwest and back to the main path in the east.
action: You go inside
response: (opening the infirmary door)

The smell is bad, although not as bad as you had expected it to be: Constantin must be keeping up with dealing with the dead. Empty, vomit-stained beds lie haphazardly about the room. Buckets overflow with human filth: the plague soon overtook those caring for the sick. The air is heavy with disease.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Smell
response: Blood, vomit, and feces: the Trinity of the plague.
action: You look at the buckets
response: Vomit and human filth rise over the sides of the buckets and spill to the floor. The smell is unimaginable.
action: You take bucket
response: No, they are disgusting.
action: You go to the northwest
response: The wind whips its way through the tombstones, whistling a harsh tune. The air is crisp and clean, the smell of corpses is nowhere to be found. In a section off from the established cemetary, row upon row of makeshift crosses stand: plague victims. The path winds its way back to the infirmary in the southeast.
action: You examine the tombstones
response: The inscriptions have long since worn away from the elements: dozens of nameless souls lie beneath.
action: Dig
response: You tear into the snow with your hands, struggling to hold onto your fingers in the cold. Eventually, you strike the soil. Clearing a little patch, you find the soil undisturbed. You try another hole. Same thing. Nothing has disturbed the ground in quite some time.
action: You look at the crosses
response: Little more than two branches tied together, each of the crosses bears a faint scratch: the name of the brother that lies beneath. The scratches are so faint and Constantin's scrawl so shaky that they are illegible.
action: You go inside
response: The smell is bad, although not as bad as you had expected it to be: Constantin must be keeping up with dealing with the dead. Empty, vomit-stained beds lie haphazardly about the room. Buckets overflow with human filth: the plague soon overtook those caring for the sick. The air is heavy with disease.
action: You look at the beds
response: The beds lay strewn about the room. Far more are packed in here than usual. Most of the brothers were brought with their own beds from the dormitory. Soon, the infirmary housed as many as the dormitory. The patterns of vomit are grotesque outlines of human bodies.

Within some of the outlines of vomit, you see strange, brownish-red marks.
action: You look at marks
response: Looking closely, you recognize the telltale patina of dried blood.
action: You take the blood
response: They're hardly portable.
action: Go outside
response: The infirmary stands well away from the rest of the monastery. Little good it has done, though. The plague still seeped its way in. A rickety door leads into the infirmary, and a well-worn path leads to the cemetery in the northwest and back to the main path in the east.
action: You examine the door
response: The door creaks on its hinges as it sways back and forth in a draft.
action: You go to the west
response: Before you leave, you close the entrance door lest the snow, or worse, get in.

The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.

Cecilia paces back and forth.
action: You take the cecilia's eyes
response: "Go, find Lucca," she says, pointing to the door. "If you are in trouble, pray to me. I will do whatever I can to help."

Taken.
action: You look at the cecilia's eyes
response: Blue. Like icewater.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: You say a few short words to Cecilia.

She can do nothing for you, right now.
action: You go to the north
response: You can go only south, east, in or out.
action: You examine the scratchings
response: At first it looks random, but upon closer inspection it appears to a picture. It cuts deep: two intersecting lines surrounded by jagged grooves. A cross. Fire.
action: You go to the south
response: He always had so many secrets. You knew it would kill him one day, but not Lucca. North leads out.

One of the flagstones is tinted with blood.
action: You go upwards
response: Panting more than a little, you make your way up the stairs to the top.

The snow below is dark and broken. Yet all around is pristine. It is clean.

The bell sways in the breeze, its tongue almost, but never, touching the sides.
action: You jump
response: Closing your eyes, you step from the edge. The wind whistles about you, but you cannot hear it.

Hell has a special place for those who commit suicide.
action: You go north
response: Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
action: Light fire
response: It does not light. The dampness spoils everything here.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: You pray to mary
response: A sob is all you hear.
action: You pray to God
response: Your head splits, his voice drips through you like oil.
action: You pray to Jesus
response: Your head splits, his voice drips through you like oil.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: Look around
response: Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
action: You go north
response: Church (on the chancel)
Was your time wasted up here? Was it all for naught? As you look to the empty pews to the south, you wonder how it has helped anyone.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

Saint Cuthbert sinks in his tomb, rot creeping in from his extremities.

The lectern is weak and brittle, barely able to support the weight of the massive tome upon it.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
action: You look at Matteo
response: Matteo's corpse dangles from the cross. The wounds in his head, hands, and feet sparkle with crystals of frozen blood, and his eyes stare through you to nothing.

Jesus always looked so beautiful on the cross. Matteo just looks dead.
action: You take Matteo
response: Drogo secured him well. Flesh and wood are one.
action: You break cuthbert
response: The slam of your fist shatters the glass, sending it cascading over the Saint's body.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: You examine the body
response: His skin is blotched and discolored, and his hair drops from a shriveled scalp.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You take the body
response: You are too weak.
action: You eat Cuthbert
response: You dig your teeth into his flesh. It yields like butter, but it burns. Burns your teeth. Burns your throat. It settles in your stomach and burns there too.
action: You examine the lucca's eyes
response: Pools of sorrow.
action: You examine the matteo's eyes
response: They sink into his skull. His eyelids can barely be bothered to remain open.
action: You examine constantin's eyes
response: White globes crossed by red rivers. They twitch and jitter.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: Church (on the chancel)
Was your time wasted up here? Was it all for naught? As you look to the empty pews to the south, you wonder how it has helped anyone.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

Saint Cuthbert sinks in his tomb, rot creeping in from his extremities.

The lectern is weak and brittle, barely able to support the weight of the massive tome upon it.

The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
action: You pray to Francis
response: You say a few short words to Saint Francis.

If he heard, he is not responding. Not now, at least.
action: You look at the font
response: The font is cracked and tarnished. Grey-green streaks blossom from the water and twist their way down.
action: You touch the water
response: It is warm: the same temperature as your skin. You can barely feel it, except for the itchy, slimy feeling it leaves on your fingers.
action: Drink water
response: It is sour and bitter. It does nothing to soothe your thirst.
action: You look at fresco
response: Through the murky shadows, the frescoes are barely visible. The Fallen are overrunning the angels, climbing through holes in the ground and spreading across the Earth. An angel's eyes meet yours and do not break. He is coming.
action: Go west
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.

Cecilia paces back and forth.
action: Go east
response: Cold, heavy light slides in through the window and creeps along the floor out the door to the west.

Even in the sunlight, the desk looks tired.

The bed, cold and harsh, no longer welcomes you.
action: Go east
response: You can go only west or out.
action: You look at the horse
response: Her hunger satiated, the horse eyes you skittishly.

Violent coughs spew from your lungs. You wipe a small spattering of blood from your mouth.
action: You ride the horse
response: The moment you touch her, she goes wild. The last thing you see is a flurry of hooves before you are knocked to the ground and trampled.

When they find you, you are little more than a bloody smear in the snow.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: Your eyes close, and you begin your prayer. A warm wave washes in from your extremities, soothing away the cold.

The horse's wild eyes suddenly fade and grow dull. She docilely saunters over and nuzzles against you.
action: You ride the horse
response: The stables aren't suitable for riding. Perhaps you should go somewhere more suitable.
action: Pet horse
response: The horse nuzzles up against you, eyes blank.
action: Look around
response: Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

The horse nuzzles up against you, eyes blank.
action: You go to the west
response: The horse trots along after you.

The sun's light does nothing to warm you, but instead it burns your eyes with its fury: nothing like the cool darkness inside the monastery to the north. It is so bright that you can barely make out the stables to the east: they are just a darker square in a field of white. The infirmary is a little clearer to the west. A tangle of footsteps lead south to the gate.
action: You ride the horse
response: Perhaps you should go somewhere more suited to riding.
action: You go south
response: The horse trots along after you.

Broken stone and snow are all that remain here. A north-south path with but a few footsteps can be picked out through the rubble leading from the monastery towards Rovato.

A tangled mass of corpses lines the southern side of the former gate.
action: You ride the horse
response: Climbing atop the horse, you drive your heels into her sides. She whinnies, but remains calm as she takes off to the south.

After what seems like hours, you reach a small creek. Or at least it used to be a small creek. The few hours of sunlight have melted the snow enough that it is now a raging torrent.

The sound is deafening as the river to the south crashes its way through jagged stones. White plumes of water explode off the rocks, soaking through your already damp frock.

The tracks end here in a bloody stain upon the snow.
action: You examine the stain
response: The tracks, orderly one-two steps before, are now a tangled mash leading into the river. The snow is dirty and soaked with blood.
action: You examine the river
response: White and blue. Its wrath is awe-inspiring. The river tears at the rocks, and its roar tears at your ears.

A little downstream is a sack filled with straw. No, not a sack: something else.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You examine the sack
response: The thing flaps in the water: it looks to be burlap with a shock of straw sprouting from the top. Getting a little closer, you see how wrong you were.

Lucca. His mouth is agape: frozen. Blood wells up from inside and mingles with the water as it flows by, adding a little color to the white and blue.
action: You examine Lucca
response: You touch the body briefly and feel his bones ground to meal inside. He is soft and bruised from the fury of the water. But the deep, sharp wound in his back looks more like a knife wound than anything done by nature. Oh, Lucca.
action: You search lucca
response: You touch the body briefly and feel his bones ground to meal inside. He is soft and bruised from the fury of the water. But the deep, sharp wound in his back looks more like a knife wound than anything done by nature. Oh, Lucca.

Digging through his frock, you find a rough piece of paper. It is wet, but holds together as you pull it out.
action: You read the paper
response: On the front, written in ink:

I have tried praying, but my thoughts still torment me. No one listens! So I will write. They always say God sees everything, but maybe he just doesn't hear everything.

I don't know what to do. Matteo tells me something strange is going on, but he can't tell me what. No, he won't tell me what. He's afraid of endangering me. Or he doesn't care. I can't tell with him anymore.

He doesn't care about anything anymore.

He says not to trust anyone. I wonder if that applies to him as well. He has changed; he never kept secrets before. He says not to trust even the father. He says he has changed the most.

And on the back, written in blood:

Matteo is dead. And he was right. Everyone has changed.
action: Look around
response: The sound is deafening as the river to the south crashes its way through jagged stones. White plumes of water explode off the rocks, soaking through your already damp frock.

The horse nuzzles up against you, eyes blank.

The tracks end here in a bloody stain upon the snow.

Lucca's body rests in the snow.
action: You show Lucca to the horse
response: (first taking Lucca)
There is nothing more you can do.
action: Swim
response: You attempt to swim across the river. At first, all is going well, until a large chunk of ice slams itself into your back. You flail, grabbing at anything that will hold you.

Nothing does.
action: You ride the horse
response: There is nothing more to do, and so you climb back upon the horse, and urge her back to Saint Cuthbert's.

Just as the monastery comes into view, a sound echoes throughout the hills. A crisp, clean sound. Rock on rock.

Still. The wind has all but stopped. Steep, white hills tower on both sides, blocking you in. The monastery looms in the north.

The horse nuzzles up against you, eyes blank.
action: You listen
response: The sound continues. It is difficult to place: with the echo, it could be anywhere.

Glancing around, you find the source, a dark shape high on the hill amongst some rocks. It is moving.

The sound gets louder.
action: You examine the shape
response: The figure moves rapidly. Black against white.

The cracking sound is joined another: a more diffuse sound. A rumble.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

The rumble turns to a roar. Waves of snow begin coasting down the hill in an avalanche.

The horse snaps out of its stupor, ears shooting up. Before you can move, she bolts off down the pass.
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

Trees are snapped like twigs, joining the slide.
action: You wait awhile
response: Time passes. Slowly.

It is here.
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

Waves of snow consume you, crushing the air from your lungs. You would fight, but the cold is so intense you cannot move.

How can something so white look so black?
action: Go south
response: You can go only north or up.

Waves of snow consume you, crushing the air from your lungs. You would fight, but the cold is so intense you cannot move.

How can something so white look so black?
action: Go upwards
response: The sides are far too steep.

The cracking sound is joined another: a more diffuse sound. A rumble.
action: Go north
response: You run north a little ways, but it does little good. The avalanche still approaches.

The rumble turns to a roar. Waves of snow begin coasting down the hill in an avalanche.

The horse snaps out of its stupor, ears shooting up. Before you can move, she bolts off down the pass.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: The words slip out of your mouth, and immediately, a gentle glow flows from your forehead all around. It washes away the cold and pain, leaving you bathed in warmth.

Eventually, it subsides and you feel no different than you did before.

Trees are snapped like twigs, joining the slide.
action: You ride the horse
response: Not wanting to find out what the noise is, you get back on the horse and urge her on to the monastery.

The noise continues to grow. You look up and see the side of the mountain sliding down in a massive avalanche. You spur the horse on, but she isn't fast enough.

The roar of the snow is not the last sound you hear. Who knew horses could scream?
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: The words slip out of your mouth, and immediately, a gentle glow flows from your forehead all around. It washes away the cold and pain, leaving you bathed in warmth.

Eventually, it subsides and you feel no different than you did before.

The cracking sound is joined another: a more diffuse sound. A rumble.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

The rumble turns to a roar. Waves of snow begin coasting down the hill in an avalanche.

The horse snaps out of its stupor, ears shooting up. Before you can move, she bolts off down the pass.
action: Go south
response: You can go only north or up.

Trees are snapped like twigs, joining the slide.
action: Up
response: The sides are far too steep.

It is here.

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: Up
response: The sides are far too steep.

Just a few feet from your head, the wave of snow splits in two, passing to either side of you.

The rush lasts only a few more seconds before dwindling, and when it stops, you are shaken but unharmed.
action: You go north
response: With the avalanche over and the horse gone, you have no choice but to make it back to the monastery on foot.

You don't know how long it takes. All you know is now the sky has clouded over, and drifts of snow make their way down from above.

Broken stone and snow are all that remain here. A north-south path with but a few footsteps can be picked out through the rubble leading from the monastery towards Rovato.

A tangled mass of corpses lines the southern side of the former gate.
action: You go north
response: The light is gentler now. No, not gentler: weaker. Clouds block the sun, making it easy to see the stable to the east in a field of white. The infirmary lies to the west while the gate is to the south. The monastery offers its hollow promises of warmth to the north.

A faint, garbled sound rises from the east.
action: You go to the east
response: Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

A shrill, bleating noise comes from the northeast.
action: You go northeast
response: These gardens used to provide most of the food for the entire monastery. Now, none. A few black stalks poke through the snow, their appearance always perfectly predicted by the rows they were planted in. The wilderness is stronger here: twisted briars overrun the garden. The stables lie back to the southwest.

A hole has been cut through the briars to the north.

A garbled bleat rises through the hole in the briars.
action: You examine hole
response: A hole no larger than a man has been cut through the briars, leading to the north.

A garbled bleat rises through the hole in the briars.
action: You enter the hole
response: Bowing your head through the brush, you enter a clearing.

A small patch of snow surrounded by briars. This used to be part of the garden; now nature has reclaimed it. The belltower rises out of the briars: a small hint of civilization in the wild.

The hole through the briars leads back south.

As you enter the clearing, you see what the bleat was. A lamb, no more than a few weeks old, is tied to a branch, struggling frantically. He cries out in terror as a pack of wolves encroach from the briars. They are hungry and confused. Do they go for the small, easy meat? Or the larger, more difficult meat?

Just then, a shout from the belltower draws your attention. "Yoohoo, father!" You look up to see Drogo waving happily. "You shouldn't have come: it's feeding time." -- he shrugs -- "Oh well. Either way, they'll get fed." With that, he disappears down the stairs.
action: You look around
response: Still. The wind has all but stopped. Steep, white hills tower on both sides, blocking you in. The monastery looms in the north.

The figure moves rapidly. Black against white.

The horse nuzzles up against you, eyes blank.

The cracking sound is joined another: a more diffuse sound. A rumble.
action: You pray to Satan
response: You close your eyes, and prepare yourself. "Please, Satan," you begin. The words are hard. They cut your throat as they leave. "Please, Satan, deliver me from the plague, and you shall have my soul." The words sink through the Earth: slowly, like black tar.

A flock of dismembered hands reach up through the ground, stealing away the black and disease that ravages your body, both seen and unseen. They swirl and dance, before sinking back to the ground. One lingers. It crawls up your leg and across your chest. It dives in, and emerges clutching a tiny ball of light in its bony finger. The hand drops back to the Earth with its prize and slinks away.

It is done.

The rumble turns to a roar. Waves of snow begin coasting down the hill in an avalanche.

The horse snaps out of its stupor, ears shooting up. Before you can move, she bolts off down the pass.
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

Trees are snapped like twigs, joining the slide.
action: You pray to Satan
response: He already has your soul; you can offer him no more.

Waves of snow consume you, crushing the air from your lungs. You would fight, but the cold is so intense you cannot move.

How can something so white look so black?
action: You look around
response: The light is gentler now. No, not gentler: weaker. Clouds block the sun, making it easy to see the stable to the east in a field of white. The infirmary lies to the west while the gate is to the south. The monastery offers its hollow promises of warmth to the north.

A faint, garbled sound rises from the east.
action: You go to the east
response: Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

A shrill, bleating noise comes from the northeast.
action: You go northeast
response: These gardens used to provide most of the food for the entire monastery. Now, none. A few black stalks poke through the snow, their appearance always perfectly predicted by the rows they were planted in. The wilderness is stronger here: twisted briars overrun the garden. The stables lie back to the southwest.

A hole has been cut through the briars to the north.

A garbled bleat rises through the hole in the briars.
action: You examine the lamb
response: The lamb strains against the branch, but he is far too weak to escape on his own.

The alpha swings his head back and forth between you and the lamb. The others follow in unison.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: Tears in your eyes, you mumble desperately for Cecilia to hear you. The wolves circle you, ready to pounce. You speak faster. Louder. Please.

The alpha's teeth close around your arm for a moment, clamping hard. But then, a warmth spread through your limbs and soothes away the cold. The wolf's bite turns into a gentle caress as he begins to licking the wound he just inflicted. Satisfied you are safe, you shoo away the wolves.

The danger gone, you release the lamb. He nuzzles up to you for a moment before running off into the brush, bleating cheerfully.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: A small patch of snow surrounded by briars. This used to be part of the garden; now nature has reclaimed it. The belltower rises out of the briars: a small hint of civilization in the wild.

The hole through the briars leads back south.
action: You look at the briars
response: The hole leads back to the south.
action: You go to the south
response: These gardens used to provide most of the food for the entire monastery. Now, none. A few black stalks poke through the snow, their appearance always perfectly predicted by the rows they were planted in. The wilderness is stronger here: twisted briars overrun the garden. The stables lie back to the southwest.

A hole has been cut through the briars to the north.
action: You go to the southwest
response: Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.
action: Up
response: Grunting more than a little, you pull yourself up the ladder.

Stables (on the roof)
The smell is even worse up here. Snow weighs on the roof, causing it to sink in the middle. Sometimes hay is stored up here in the summer: now, the roof barely supports the snow.

Four chimes drone from the tower: Sext.
action: Down
response: You descend the ladder, the roof giving a sigh of relief as you do.

Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.
action: You go west
response: Darkness begins to creep across the sky from atop the infirmary in the west. The last rays of light expose the stables to the east and the gate to the south. The monastery lies to the north, its walls offering promises of shelter.
action: You talk to Cecilia
response: "Thank Heavens you are here," Cecilia says, embracing you: what is that on her back? "You must hurry, God told me that Constantin has been locking the plague victims in the cellar until they die, that is why he put the lock there, not to protect the food, but to protect himself. He killed Lucca to keep his secret. Go, get the cellar's key from him. If you hurry, there may be some survivors."
action: Go north
response: Clouds close off the sky, blocking the light but not the snow.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church rolls and laughs to the north, pointing Her sharp fingers in a perpetual mock at God.

A dark blackish red spill marks the ground.
action: You examine spill
response: The liquid is a thick soup of black and red with small chunks of food mixed in. Blood and bile: plague vomit.
action: You go southeast
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

A large pool of vomit has melted a hole in the snow.

A fresh blanket of snow lies upon the ground.
action: You go southeast
response: Positioned directly between the dormitory and your own room, the calefactory warms both, although lately it is less than adequate. While the calefactory itself is stiflingly hot, its heat stays confined. Your brow grows damp: your body, feverish. Slightly melted snow creeps in from the cloister to the northwest.

A red scrawl winds its way around the room.
action: You examine the scrawl
response: It says:

I'm sorry, God. Please forgive me. The evil of my brothers and the father has been an affront to you. Forgive them. Please.

Someone's here.

That is all.

Wet footsteps sound from behind. "Curious, isn't it?" It is Ignatius.

He sidles up beside you and traces the blood with his hand. "He must have been sicker than we thought," --he pauses-- "The plague makes monsters of us all."
action: You tell Ignatius about Lucca
response: "Don't worry, father. He will kill no more."

Ignatius circles the room, but he never strays far from the door.
action: You tell Ignatius about the cellar
response: "I think it's empty."

Ignatius looks you up and down, unblinking.
action: You tell Ignatius about Cecilia
response: "Listen to her, she will save us all."
action: You go northwest
response: "Yes, I should be going too," Ignatius says, slowly. "I will see you later, father."

Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

A large pool of vomit has melted a hole in the snow.

A fresh blanket of snow lies upon the ground.
action: Go northwest
response: Clouds close off the sky, blocking the light but not the snow.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church rolls and laughs to the north, pointing Her sharp fingers in a perpetual mock at God.

The vomit leads from the calefactory to the dormitory.
action: Go east
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

The vomit marks a trail into Constantin's cell.
action: Go southeast
response: These walls are Constantin's tomb. Slime coats the floor and slides from the walls. The stench is trapped, harsh. It can be escaped to the northwest.

The floor is soaked with vomit, making it almost slippery to walk on.

Constantin lies on his side, vomit oozing from the side of his mouth. A set of keys dangles from the belt of his frock, jingling ever so slightly.
action: You take the keys
response: You gently try to untangle the keys from his belt, but the moment you touch them, they jingle as if to sound an alarm. Constantin's swollen eyelids snap open, revealing two bloodshot orbs.

"Thief!" he cries, bolting up. Despite his illness, he is still a strong man. He flings you against the wall, knocking you unconscious. Despite your illness, you are still a weak man.

You don't wake up.
action: You look at Constantin
response: A massive lump of sickness, Constantin lies with his eyes swollen shut. He breathes irregularily, the air forcing out bits of blood and vomit from his mouth.
action: You kill Constantin
response: Moving swiftly, you rip the pillow from beneath Constantin's head and slam it onto his face. He is so weak. A few kicks are all he gives before he shudders and goes still.
action: You examine the keys
response: They shine brightly and jingle when they move.
action: You touch Constantin
response: Keep your hands to yourself!

Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
action: You wake constantin
response: That seems unnecessary.
action: You check what you're carrying
response: You are carrying:
Lucca's paper
a Cecilia's eyes
Drogo's eyes
a hare
Matteo's note
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
a coin
your tinderbox
your candle (lit)
your frock (being worn)
action: Look around
response: These walls are Constantin's tomb. Slime coats the floor and slides from the walls. The stench is trapped, harsh. It can be escaped to the northwest.

The floor is soaked with vomit, making it almost slippery to walk on.

Constantin lies on his side, vomit oozing from the side of his mouth. A set of keys dangles from the belt of his frock, jingling ever so slightly.
action: Pray
response: (to God)
His scream rips through your mind. He is anger. He is hate.
action: You put the constantin's eyes in constantin's ears
response: You put Constantin's eyes into Constantin.
action: You put the wax in the constantin's ears
response: Carefully, you drip a little bit of wax into Constantin's exposed ear. Soon, it wells out the top before forming a hard plug.
action: You take the keys
response: You gently untangle the keys from his belt. He does not stir.
action: Look around
response: These walls are Constantin's tomb. Slime coats the floor and slides from the walls. The stench is trapped, harsh. It can be escaped to the northwest.

The floor is soaked with vomit, making it almost slippery to walk on.

Constantin lies on his side, vomit oozing from the side of his mouth.
action: Unlock cellar
response: What do you want to unlock the keys with?
action: You unlock the lock with the keys
response: You fit the key into the lock and turn. Click.
action: You open cellar
response: (the hatch)
You open the hatch.
action: Down
response: The stairs are slippery with something. A particularly poor step sends you careening down, your candle getting snuffed out in the process.

You brace yourself for the hard impact at the bottom, but it never comes. Instead, you fall into a soft, uneven mound. It jars your bones, but at least nothing breaks. The light from the kitchen barely makes it down the stairs: all you see is shadows.
action: Light candle
response: The fat sizzles for a moment as the flame comes to life but settles down soon after.

Dozens of bodies fill the cellar: waist-high in some places. The faces are familiar, if not for the plague and decay. Hollow eyes drill into you from all sides. The flicker of the candle makes the corpses writhe and dance.

There is little food left. An old cask of wine sits against one side.

A prybar leans propped up against the cask.
action: You look at the prybar
response: It is heavy. The metal is strong and unwarped.
action: You take the prybar
response: Taken.

Footsteps sound through the hatch. They are faint but growing stronger.
action: Up
response: As you reach the top of the stairs, a cowled figure comes into view. Before you can react, it knocks you down the stairs. Your fall is not so gentle this time. You thud your way down the steps, every bone breaking on the way.

The pain is unbearable, but the knife to your throat ends it soon enough.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Damn!" You hear someone curse from the kitchen. The footsteps grow faster as they rush towards the stairs.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Come on out, father!" The voice is hoarse and broken. A candle bobs down the stairwell.
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

With your candle lit, he easily finds you.

"There you are." A grin stretch beneath the man's cowl. So many teeth. A knife slides out of his robes.

You try to run, but he is too fast. Another body for the mound.
action: You put out the candle
response: The flame puffs out in a cloud of rank, black smoke.

The light of his candle is more than enough to see you standing in the open.

"There you are." A grin stretch beneath the man's cowl. So many teeth. A knife slides out of his robes.

You try to run, but he is too fast. Another body for the mound.
action: You hide
response: Where do you want to hide?
action: You hide under the bodies
response: Bracing yourself for the smell, you worm your way into the pile of bodies. The weight is suffocating, as is the smell.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

Footsteps sound through the hatch. They are faint but growing stronger.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Damn!" You hear someone curse from the kitchen. The footsteps grow faster as they rush towards the stairs.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Come on out, father!" The voice is hoarse and broken. A candle bobs down the stairwell.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes. Slowly.

He searches around for a few moments: it appears your plan is working.

"Come out!" he demands. "I know you're in here."
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Enough games, father" he says, drawing a wickedly curved knife. Moving with cold, swift strikes, he begins stabbing into the mound of bodies.
action: You wait a while
response: Time passes. Slowly.

The knife flies in and out of the mound. One jab brings the blade within an inch of your ear.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: She is with you.

You lie perfectly still, hoping to avoid the knife. But one lucky jab slices into your thigh. You stifle your cry, tears welling up. The next stabs slips its way into your hand. It is too much.

You cry out. He hears you. The next cut is for your throat.
action: You take the lock
response: It is bolted to the hatch.
action: You pray to Cecilia
response: She is with you.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You take the prybar
response: Taken.

Footsteps sound through the hatch. They are faint but growing stronger.
action: You hide under the bodies
response: Bracing yourself for the smell, you worm your way into the pile of bodies. The weight is suffocating, as is the smell.

"Damn!" You hear someone curse from the kitchen. The footsteps grow faster as they rush towards the stairs.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Come on out, father!" The voice is hoarse and broken. A candle bobs down the stairwell.
action: You put out the candle
response: It's already out.

He searches around for a few moments: it appears your plan is working.

"Come out!" he demands. "I know you're in here."
action: You blow out the candle
response: It's already out.

"Enough games, father" he says, drawing a wickedly curved knife. Moving with cold, swift strikes, he begins stabbing into the mound of bodies.
action: You hit Constantin with the prybar
response: (Constantin's eyes with the prybar)
You are too weak.

The knife flies in and out of the mound. One jab brings the blade within an inch of your ear.
action: You move
response: (the figure)
You can't while hiding.

You lie perfectly still, hoping to avoid the knife. But one lucky jab slices into your thigh. You stifle your cry, tears welling up. The next stabs slips its way into your hand. It is too much.

You cry out. He hears you. The next cut is for your throat.
action: Attack figure
response: You wait till he's close before swinging your leg as hard as you can into the back of his knee. He crumbles, his head smashing against the hard floor.
action: You go outside
response: You return to the open.

You can make out little. Some light streams in down the stairs, but it is not enough. The floor is covered in something lumpy and deep.

The figure lies prone upon the ground.
action: You examine the figure
response: He lies in a crumpled heap upon the floor. His cowl still obscures his face.
action: You take the cowl
response: Warily, you lift the cowl from the man's face.

Ignatius.

A chorus of rings sounds from the tower, echoing through the land. Five rings. None.
action: You remove the cowl
response: (first taking the cowl)
You've already done that.
action: You search Ignatius
response: You've already done that.
action: You look around
response: You can make out little. Some light streams in down the stairs, but it is not enough. The floor is covered in something lumpy and deep.

Ignatius lies upon the floor, bleeding through a gash in his forehead.
action: You examine the gash
response: A small scratch lines your arm from elbow to wrist.
action: You examine Ignatius
response: Ignatius lies upon the floor, bleeding through a gash in his forehead.
action: You get Ignatius
response: He is too heavy for you to move.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: No response.
action: Close hatch
response: You close the hatch.
action: Lock hatch
response: What do you want to lock the hatch with?
action: Lock hatch with key
response: That should hold him.
action: Go east
response: Clouds close off the sky, blocking the light but not the snow.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church rolls and laughs to the north, pointing Her sharp fingers in a perpetual mock at God.
action: Go south
response: So empty. So, so empty. North leads out.

One of the flagstones is tinted with blood.
action: Lift stone
response: Fitting the bar between the cracks in the flooring, you pry the flagstone up. It comes out easily.

Where it lay, in a slight hollow in the soil, are a few wrinkled sheets of paper.
action: %
response: It has been five days, now. Five days since I made the choice. Five days since I closed the gate.

Really, there was no choice. Rovato was damned when the first spot appeared: when the first bloody cough ensued from the mouth of an urchin. To have allowed the sick sanctuary at Saint Cuthbert's would only have damned us as well.

But we were already damned.

The plague came. And now we suffer.

Six crisp chimes mark Vespers. Your heart flutters for a moment, and you place your head in your hands.

Your room is small; it is the same as all the others, but it seems smaller of late. With so many of your brothers gone, there has been little for you to do but wait. Wait for the spots to appear in this tiny, dark room.

A chill breeze spins in through the window and out the door to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the other side is your bed, the blanket wrapped up in itself from this morning.
action: Look around
response: You can make out little. Some light streams in down the stairs, but it is not enough. The floor is covered in something lumpy and deep.

"Damn!" You hear someone curse from the kitchen. The footsteps grow faster as they rush towards the stairs.
action: You hide in the bodies
response: Bracing yourself for the smell, you worm your way into the pile of bodies. The weight is suffocating, as is the smell.

"Come on out, father!" The voice is hoarse and broken. A candle bobs down the stairwell.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes. Slowly.

He searches around for a few moments: it appears your plan is working.

"Come out!" he demands. "I know you're in here."
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Enough games, father" he says, drawing a wickedly curved knife. Moving with cold, swift strikes, he begins stabbing into the mound of bodies.
action: Attack figure
response: You wait till he's close before swinging your leg as hard as you can into the back of his knee. He crumbles, his head smashing against the hard floor.
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
a prybar
some keys
Lucca's paper
a Cecilia's eyes
Drogo's eyes
a hare
Matteo's note
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
a coin
your tinderbox
your candle
your frock (being worn)
action: Up
response: You return to the open.

You can make out little. Some light streams in down the stairs, but it is not enough. The floor is covered in something lumpy and deep.

The figure lies prone upon the ground.
action: Go north
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.

A chorus of rings sounds from the tower, echoing through the land. Five rings. None.
action: Go east
response: Clouds close off the sky, blocking the light but not the snow.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church rolls and laughs to the north, pointing Her sharp fingers in a perpetual mock at God.
action: Lift flagstone
response: Fitting the bar between the cracks in the flooring, you pry the flagstone up. It comes out easily.

Where it lay, in a slight hollow in the soil, are a few wrinkled sheets of paper.

Bloody vomit wells up in your throat. It trickles out the side of your mouth, staining your lips red. You choke it back.
action: Look around
response: So empty. So, so empty. North leads out.

The flagstone lays to the side of a small hole in the floor.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
some papers
a prybar
some keys
Lucca's paper
a Cecilia's eyes
Drogo's eyes
a hare
Matteo's note
Ignatius's eye
Matteo's eyes
Lucca's eyes
Constantin's eyes
a coin
your tinderbox
your candle
your frock (being worn)

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: Light candle
response: The fat sizzles for a moment as the flame comes to life but settles down soon after.
action: Go outside
response: Pulling your frock tightly about you, you sigh and exit to the hall.

As cold as your room is, this hall is even colder. The stone walls dance and glisten with dampness. The warmth of your room awaits to the east, and the cold of the outside world through a heavy door to the south. Moonlight streams in from the cloister to the north, and a flimsy door secures the locutory to the west.

The alms box hangs closed beside the door.
action: Break box
response: (the alms box)
You are too weak.
action: You go north
response: Bracing yourself for the cold, you lower your hood and exit to the cloister.

In the warmer months, Brother Matteo maintains a beautiful garden in the cloister. Now there is nothing but a few dead vines sticking out from beneath a blanket of snow. Still, it has a calm dignity: the wind finds no entrance here. The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church commands from the north, its spires reaching up to Heaven.

Brother Lucca, face flushed and cheeks wet, storms out from the bell tower and off to the dormitory in the east, meeting your eyes for only a moment.

"Are you alright, Brother?" you ask, receiving no response.

Thunder rumbles overhead, shaking the monastery to its foundations.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Go northeast
response: Nestled in the northeast corner of the cloister, the bell tower rises high: higher than the steeples of the church. Footsteps cut a line in the snow from the cloister to the southwest to the tower itself in the northeast.

A loud crackle splits the sound of wind. Lightning. Stone tumbles in the distance.
action: Go upwards
response: Panting more than a little, you make your way up the stairs to the top.

High above the rest of Saint Cuthbert's, the tower affords a view of the surrounding land. In the spring, it is quite beautiful: now all you see is the endless moonlit glow of snow. Snow in the trees. Snow in the mountains. Snow.

The bell sways in the breeze, its tongue almost, but never, touching the sides.

Brother Matteo leans against the rails, staring into the wind.
action: You pray to Satan
response: You close your eyes, and prepare yourself. "Please, Satan," you begin. The words are hard. They cut your throat as they leave. "Please, Satan, deliver me from the plague, and you shall have my soul." The words sink through the Earth: slowly, like black tar.

A flock of dismembered hands reach up through the ground, stealing away the black and disease that ravages your body, both seen and unseen. They swirl and dance, before sinking back to the ground. One lingers. It crawls up your leg and across your chest. It dives in, and emerges clutching a tiny ball of light in its bony finger. The hand drops back to the Earth with its prize and slinks away.

It is done.
action: You pray to God
response: His scream rips through your mind. He is anger. He is hate.
action: You go downward
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo lies upon the ground, blood trickling from the side of his head
action: You get Matteo
response: Matteo was a large man. You cannot move him.
action: You go inside
response: Panting more than a little, you make your way up the stairs to the top.

You are sure that other things exist, but for now all there is is Matteo lying on the ground below. From here, he could easily be alive. He smiles at you.

No, not a smile: a sneer. He is laughing at you. Laughing because you are still trapped. He was always laughing.

The bell sways in the breeze, its tongue almost, but never, touching the sides.
action: You go to the north
response: Church (in the pews)
Since you relegated the brothers to pray on their own, except for Mass, the church has been all but empty. Rows of pews part down the centre, ushering you up to the chancel in the north opposite the cloister in the south. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

The Saints look away from you, crying.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: Go north
response: Church (on the chancel)
God, to think of all the time you wasted up here. The blind leading the blind. A quiet laugh spreads through your heart. A joke. The rest of the church lies to the south; it's not as funny of a joke.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

A beautiful glass case holds the body of Saint Cuthbert near the base of the chancel.

The lectern stands in the centre of the chancel, the Bible accusing you from its perch.

The Saints look away from you, crying.
action: Smash case
response: The slam of your fist shatters the glass, sending it cascading over the Saint's body.
action: You go to the south
response: Church (in the pews)
Cedar pews line the path from the chancel in the north to the cloister to the south, their surfaces cold. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The Saints look away from you, crying.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: Go north
response: Before you leave, you close the entrance door lest the snow, or worse, get in.

In the warmer months, Brother Matteo maintains a beautiful garden in the cloister. Now there is nothing but a few dead vines sticking out from beneath a blanket of snow. Still, it has a calm dignity: the wind finds no entrance here. The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church commands from the north, its spires reaching up to Heaven.
action: Go south
response: This room is small: the same as all the others. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the north.

Lucca scrabbles frantically at the ground, his blood staining the stones.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You tell Lucca about Matteo
response: "He knows something, but he won't tell me," he sobs more heavily for a moment. "He tells me nothing anymore."
action: You read the note
response: Written in a slothful scrawl:

I would normally write in my journal, but in my increasing paranoia, I have hidden it. Now, I kick myself as it seems so far away. Everything is so far away: such a burden.

The father came to visit me earlier; he is not the same man I knew and respected. He looked at me with murder in his eyes. I would tell Lucca, but I am scared. No, I am lazy. I do not care if he kills me. I would do it myself were I not such a coward.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You show the note to Lucca
response: Better keep this to yourself.
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "Why do you dig, Lucca?" you ask.

"Matteo is hiding something. I just know it's under here."

A warmth spreads through your body, soothing the chill and fear from your bones. Salvation.

She is here.
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "Why do you think that?" The blood pours from his fingers.

"I just know," he sobs. "He scrapes around here at night."
action: You kill the girl
response: You strike the woman, hard. "Wake up!" You snarl.

She doesn't.
action: You get the girl
response: With more than a little trouble, you hoist the girl into your arms. Your knees feel as though they might buckle but hold for now.
action: Go north
response: The young woman groans and kicks slightly as the cold from the cloister scrapes across her skin.
action: Go east
response: Perhaps the locutory would be more comfortable.
action: Go west
response: (opening the door to the locutory)
You turn sideways and slide into the locutory, careful not to catch the young woman's head on the frame.

The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

Near the door to the east is a fireplace, its embers cold for days.
action: You put the girl in the bed
response: You lay the young girl on the bed, and she immediately relaxes. Her eyes remain closed but no longer twitch with discomfort.
action: Light fire
response: After much coaxing, you finally get the wet logs to ignite. The flame is weak, but it will do.
action: You look around
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.

The girl sleeps upon the bed, turning fitfully every now and then.
action: You go east
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

The alms box hangs open, as poor as the people it is meant to help.
action: Go east
response: Before you leave, you close the entrance door lest the snow, or worse, get in.

The room is small; the same as all the others. But it seems smaller of late. The hall extends to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the other side is your bed, the blanket wrapped up in itself from this morning.
action: You put the blanket on girl
response: You drape your bedding over the girl, and she seems to calm down a bit.

The warmth is finally enough for her to stir.

"Food," she says. "Please."

With that, she passes back into slumber.
action: You go north
response: Church (in the pews)
Cedar pews line the path from the chancel in the north to the cloister to the south, their surfaces cold. The ceiling towers above you, its frescoes dim in the candlelight.

Towering above all else is a massive wooden cross. It is awesome.

The font glows warmly in the candlelight, not a ripple on its water's surface.

The Saints look away from you, crying.

Brother Ignatius sits in one of the pews near the front, staring intently at the candles.
action: You get all from the cupboard
response: Removed.
action: You talk to the girl
response: "What do you mean?" you ask.

The girl turns her tear-stained eyes to you. "You'll see,"

The bell continues its toll. Four. Five. Six... In place of the seventh ring is a scream. A scream that rips in from the cloister and silences the wind.

The girl places her head in her hands with a slight sob. "I am sorry, Father." Then, turning. "And to you too."
action: Kiss girl
response: She backs away from you.
action: You talk to the girl
response: A garbled sob is all she can give.
action: You go northeast
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo lies upon the ground, blood trickling from the side of his head. Lucca kneels by his side.

The remaining brothers are gathered around the body, shouting.

Drogo jumps up and down, rubbing his hands with glee. "It begins," he squeals to you through a wide grin.
action: You talk to Lucca
response: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," is his only reply.

Constantin strides forward and smacks Lucca across the face, sending him sprawling into the snow. "Get away from him, murderer!" He shouts, eyes burning.

"Constantin!" Ignatius shouts defiantly, stepping between the two. Although Constantin towers above him, Ignatius looks taller than you have ever seen him. "Leave the boy alone."

Drogo giggles.
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "Why do they think Lucca did it?" You ask.

"Because he did." He replies, confused. "Why else would one think such a thing?"

"I mean, how do they know he did it."

"Oh, well that isn't what you asked, now is it, father?" He continues. "Well, when we got here, Brother Lucca was already here saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'"

"But he is a murderer!" Constantin replies, stepping back, face flushed.

"I know that as well as you. But that does not excuse you from God's wishes."
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "What happened, Drogo?" You ask.

"Well, the way I see it is that Matteo wanted to fly, but God said 'No, Matteo. Flying is for birds. You are not a bird, and shouldn't wish to be.'" Drogo starts. "Matteo was not happy with that --you know how he can be sometimes-- but he thought God would be mad if he tried to fly on his own. So Lucca helped him."

"We will lock him up in the cellar, then the father can decide what to do with him." Ignatius continues.

Constantin chews his lip, releasing a tiny drop of blood. "No, the cellar will not do. We will lock him in the calefactory."

"Fine, fine. As you wish."
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "Shhh," he hushes, holding a finger to his lips. "This is the most entertaining skit I have ever seen."

With that, Constantin hoists Lucca by the shoulders and shoves him towards the calefactory.

Ignatius turns towards you and says. "You should get some sleep, father. We all should. You can get to the bottom of all this in the morning." He turns and walks towards the dormitory.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: (Ignatius)
He isn't here.

Drogo grins at you. "Oh, the fun we'll have!"
action: You go east
response: You can go only northeast, southwest, up or in.

The day is beginning to catch up with you. You yawn with a lot more force than you would have thought necessary.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: The smooth patch of snow at the base of the tower, formerly cut only by a single line of footsteps, is now a mash of dirt and blood. Steps lead northeast and up to the tower, and to the southwest is the cloister.

Brother Matteo's corpse lies upon the ground, the blood freezing to his face.

Drogo grins at you.
action: You go southwest
response: "Sweet dreams, father!" Drogo calls out to you as he disappears into the black.

There will be no garden here come spring. It is hard to imagine the snow will ever melt.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church squats to the north, Her spires clawing at the sky as She tries to climb away from the Earth.
action: You tell Ignatius about the glass case
response: "I am busy right now, father." He replies abruptly.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "Do you believe that Lucca did it?" you ask.

"I don't know," he replies calmly. "But it's best to be safe. I never would have thought Lucca could've had it in him, but these trying times make demons of us all." He glances at you pointedly.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "What do you mean?"

He thinks for a moment, and looks to the ceiling. "It's just that in these times we can sometimes find ourselves doing things we never thought we had in us."
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "Like what?"

His shoulders tighten. "If it's all the same to you, father," he says, straightening out his bed. "I think I would like to get some sleep."
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "If it's all the same to you, father," he says, straightening out his bed. "I think I would like to get some sleep."
action: You talk to the girl
response: "God sent me, but I am weak. My strength depends on the faithful, and your brethren have lost their way. Even now they conspire against you. And me." She casts a frightened glance towards the door.

"Please pray to me, father, when you go to bed. I need your strength in the midst of this wickedness."
action: You talk to the girl
response: "Go now, father," she says, turning over in your blanket. "Sleep." She casts once last look at you before closing her eyes. "But be careful, there are many that intend you harm here."
action: You talk to the girl
response: She is sleeping.
action: You get in the bed
response: The girl pushes you from the bed.
action: Sleep
response: You aren't tired. At least, not tired enough to sleep.
action: Sleep
response: You lay your head down on the cold, hard bed and drift off to sleep faster than you expected.

A few hours later, you are awoken by the sound of heavy breathing coming from beside your bed. It is the last sound you hear before the knife slides across your throat.
action: You stand
response: You get off the bed.

The room is small; the same as all the others. But it seems smaller of late. The hall extends to the west.

Pushed up against the wall on one side is the desk, its surface sagging slightly in the middle. The dampness is taking its toll.

Your bed calls to you from the side of the room. Her song is sweet, but it sings of treachery.
action: You move the desk
response: (first closing the door)
Beads of sweat pooling into your eyebrows, you heave the desk towards the door. A few of your joints crack a bit, but you manage to move the desk.
action: You press the green button
response: Returning to your cold bed, you sleep until morning.

You awake to the sound of a sharp pounding at your door.

"Father!" Constantin's growl is clear. "Wake up, Lucca has escaped!"

Morning light streams through the window, but it is a cold, heavy light.
action: You go to the west
response: With as much effort as it took to move the desk in the first place, you slide it back against the wall. You're getting too old for this. You'll have to get off the bed first.
action: You get up
response: You get off the bed.

Cold, heavy light slides in through the window and creeps along the floor out the door to the west.

Even in the sunlight, the desk looks tired.

The bed, cold and harsh, no longer welcomes you.

"Hurry up, father!" Another knock.
action: You go west
response: There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.

Constantin stands impatiently, face flushed.

Cecilia watches from her doorway.

The alms box hangs open, as poor as the people it is meant to help.

"It's about time. Come with me." He grumbles as he stomps off to the cloister.
action: You go north
response: Cecilia turns for the locutory.

The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.

Constantin storms to the calefactory, kicking up snow as he does.
action: Go southeast
response: Perhaps this is the only place at Saint Cuthbert's that is a comfortable temperature. Heat blasts at you from the calefactory to the southeast, but it is countered by the chill from the cloister to the northwest. No, that isn't right. They do not cancel: their furies are incited by one another.

"See," he shouts, pointing aggressively to a gaping hole where the lock used to be. "The bastard kicked it out from inside."
action: Go east
response: You can go only northwest, southeast, in or out.

Constantin starts mumbling curses under his breath as he pulls some tools from his belt and begins repairing the door.
action: You go to the north
response: He's already dragging you that way.

Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Drogo grins widely as he drags you up to the chancel.

"Come, father." His eyes glow with childlike enthusiasm, but his grip is of steel. "We are almost there!"

Something is different at the far end of the chancel. Is it?

Good Lord.
action: You go north
response: He's already dragging you that way.

Church (on the chancel)
God, to think of all the time you wasted up here. The blind leading the blind. A quiet laugh spreads through your heart. A joke. The rest of the church lies to the south; it's not as funny of a joke.

Drogo stands proudly and looks to you for approval, his grin tentative.

"Look, father!" he says, dragging you before the cross. "I made it all by myself."

Looking up, you see what Drogo was so excited about. Matteo dangles crucified from the cross, vicious holes in his hands and feet.
action: You look at the cross
response: Matteo's corpse dangles from the cross. The wounds in his head, hands, and feet sparkle with crystals of frozen blood, and his eyes stare through you to nothing.

Jesus always looked so beautiful on the cross. Matteo just looks dead.

"Well, father. Isn't it beautiful?" Drogo stands, gripping your wrist tightly and nodding proudly to himself.
action: Yes
response: "It is, isn't it?" Drogo strokes his chin for a moment before flinging a hand up in the air. "But it's missing something, and I know just where to find it."

Before you can move, he sprints out of the church.
action: You talk to Matteo
response: Silence.
action: You go south
response: Church (in the pews)
A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.

Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.

The Saints scream in rage, but they cannot harm you. They are trapped in their glass cages.

The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.
action: Go southeast
response: The room is rank. Sickness is everywhere: seeped into the bed, climbing the walls. A little fresh air drifts in from the northwest: it isn't nearly enough.

The tools are gone.

A skinned rabbit sits on the floor, its muscles shimmering in the light.
action: You get all
response: hare: Taken.
action: You go to the south
response: Lightning has torn through the gate, leaving only dark, broken rocks in its place. Black scorch marks twist their way through the rubble: stone crumbs are all that remain in some places. The snow is caked in soot: usually it would be lined with many footsteps, now only a few disturb the inky darkness. The snow covered path winds its way back north to the monastery and south towards Rovato.

A series of strange mounds line the southern side of where the gate used to be.
action: Dig
response: Shoveling through the snow with frostbitten hands, you eventually strike a rock.

No. Not a rock. You push back the rest of the snow to uncover the icy, stone-hard face of a young woman. She has only two colors: black and white. Plague colors.
action: Exit
response: The fallen snow is too thick. You would not make it far on foot.
action: Open stall
response: The horse, with vitality born of starvation, bolts towards the hay as soon as you unlatch the gate. She knocks you to the ground with her head, which isn't so bad.

It's her hooves on your neck that are.
action: You feed horse
response: The horse hastily starts chomping at the hay. Within moments, the entire bale is gone.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You talk to the horse
response: She whips her head and huffs at you.
action: You kill the horse
response: Raising your hand, you strike the horse across the muzzle. She flinches but stands defiant. Not to be thwarted by a dumb mule, you ball your hand into a fist and wail into her a few more times. It takes several minutes, but soon she is broken and subdued.
action: You get the horse
response: Just walk, she will follow you.
action: You leave
response: You'll have to say which compass direction to go in.
action: You look at the river
response: White and blue. Its wrath is awe-inspiring. The river tears at the rocks, and its roar tears at your ears.

A little downstream is a sack filled with straw. No, not a sack: something else.
action: Search corpse
response: Lucca stares up at you, his eyes as cold as the water around them.

You'll have to pull him to shore before you can search him.
action: Search corpse
response: You touch the body briefly and feel his bones ground to meal inside. He is soft and bruised from the fury of the water. But the deep, sharp wound in his back looks more like a knife wound than anything done by nature. Oh, Lucca.

Digging through his frock, you find a rough piece of paper. It is wet, but holds together as you pull it out.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You read the paper
response: On the front, written in ink:

I have tried praying, but my thoughts still torment me. No one listens! So I will write. They always say God sees everything, but maybe he just doesn't hear everything.

I don't know what to do. Matteo tells me something strange is going on, but he can't tell me what. No, he won't tell me what. He's afraid of endangering me. Or he doesn't care. I can't tell with him anymore.

He doesn't care about anything anymore.

He says not to trust anyone. I wonder if that applies to him as well. He has changed; he never kept secrets before. He says not to trust even the father. He says he has changed the most.

And on the back, written in blood:

Matteo is dead. And he was right. Everyone has changed.
action: You eat the corpse
response: His flesh is soft from being thrown about in the river: like it had been tenderized with a mallet. You dig your teeth into the side of his stomach. The blood is cool, but it slakes your thirst like never before.
action: You ride the horse
response: There is nothing more to do, and so you climb back upon the horse, and urge her back to Saint Cuthbert's.

Just as the monastery comes into view, a sound echoes throughout the hills. A crisp, clean sound. Rock on rock.

Still. The wind has all but stopped. Steep, white hills tower on both sides, blocking you in. The monastery looms in the north.
action: You ride the horse
response: Not wanting to find out what the noise is, you get back on the horse and urge her on to the monastery.

The noise continues to grow. You look up and see the side of the mountain sliding down in a massive avalanche. You spur the horse on, but she isn't fast enough.

The roar of the snow is not the last sound you hear. Who knew horses could scream?
action: Go up
response: The sides are far too steep.

The sound gets louder.
action: Go north
response: You run north a little ways, but it does little good. The avalanche still approaches.

The cracking sound is joined another: a more diffuse sound. A rumble.
action: You kill the horse
response: Slowly, trying not to alarm her, you bend down and grab the largest rock you can pick up. Then, with as much force as you can muster, you slam the rock into her head. She looks up at you in a blank stare before crashing to the ground.

The cracking sound is joined another: a more diffuse sound. A rumble.
action: You hide under the horse
response: You crouch behind the dead horse and curl yourself into a ball.

The rumble turns to a roar. Waves of snow begin coasting down the hill in an avalanche.
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

Trees are snapped like twigs, joining the slide.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

The waves of snow pass over you, but luckily the horse's body shields you from the brunt of the impact. Her residual warmth is just enough to carry you through to the top of the snow once the avalanche has passed.
action: You go north
response: With the avalanche over and the horse gone, you have no choice but to make it back to the monastery on foot.

You don't know how long it takes. All you know is now the sky has clouded over, and drifts of snow make their way down from above.

Broken stone and snow are all that remain here. A north-south path with but a few footsteps can be picked out through the rubble leading from the monastery towards Rovato.

A tangled mass of corpses lines the southern side of the former gate.
action: You go north
response: The light is gentler now. No, not gentler: weaker. Clouds block the sun, making it easy to see the stable to the east in a field of white. The infirmary lies to the west while the gate is to the south. The monastery offers its hollow promises of warmth to the north.

A faint, garbled sound rises from the east.
action: You throw the hare
response: Dropped.

The alpha swings his head back and forth between you and the lamb. The others follow in unison.
action: You give hare
response: (to the lamb)
Charity is a virtue, but the lamb isn't interested.

The alpha swings his head back and forth between you and the lamb. The others follow in unison.
action: You give the hare to the wolf
response: You toss the hare to the wolves, hoping to divert their attention. You don't. One immediately being gobbling up the hare, but the others set their eyes, and their teeth, on you.
action: You kill the lamb
response: You are too weak.

They have made their decision: you. Low growls ensue from all around as they approach.
action: You untie the lamb
response: Darting quickly, you tear the lamb from the branch and clutch him to your chest. His quivering shakes your bones.

The alpha is the first to strike. He hits your leg, but he is so weak, you would barely feel it, if you weren't so weak yourself. A second strike to the back of your other leg sends you sprawling. You struggle to rise, but the rest of the pack leaps on you, smothering you in a blanket of mange and teeth.
action: Evilmonk
response: Enter saved game to load: Ok.
action: You untie the lamb
response: Darting quickly, you tear the lamb from the branch and clutch him to your chest. His quivering shakes your bones.

The wolves eye you and the lamb hungrily, uttering low, weak growls.
action: You kill the lamb
response: You are too weak.

The wolves begin circling, almost cutting off your exit.
action: You give the lamb to the wolves
response: You toss the lamb to the wolves, hoping to divert their attention. You don't. One immediately being gobbling up the lamb, but the others set their eyes, and their teeth, on you.

Your own bleats echo the lamb.
action: You go to the southwest
response: The wolves trample through the garden after you, snow flying up in their wake. You pant and your legs burn with exhaustion.
You can go only south or out.

The alpha is the first to strike. He hits your leg, but he is so weak, you would barely feel it, if you weren't so weak yourself. A second strike to the back of your other leg sends you sprawling. You struggle to rise, but the rest of the pack leaps on you, smothering you in a blanket of mange and teeth.
action: You go to the south
response: The chase is on. The wolves tear after you through the briars.

These gardens used to provide most of the food for the entire monastery. Now, none. A few black stalks poke through the snow, their appearance always perfectly predicted by the rows they were planted in. The wilderness is stronger here: twisted briars overrun the garden. The stables lie back to the southwest.

A hole has been cut through the briars to the north.

The wolves bound in from the north.
action: Go southwest
response: The wolves trample through the garden after you, snow flying up in their wake. You pant and your legs burn with exhaustion.

Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

The wolves are getting closer. The alpha nips at your heels, attempting to drag you down.
action: You go upward
response: Scrambling frantically, you hurl yourself up the ladder. The alpha grabs your heel, but you shake vigorously enough to send him flailing off into a snow bank. Soon, the wolves regroup and prowl around the base of the stables, eyeing you hungrily.

Stables (on the roof)
The smell is even worse up here. Snow weighs on the roof, causing it to sink in the middle. Sometimes hay is stored up here in the summer: now, the roof barely supports the snow.

The wolves prowl around the stables, every once in a while attempting a little leap up the sides.
action: You throw the lamb
response: You toss the lamb into a patch of low briars, cushioning him from the ground. Dazed for a moment, the lamb quickly realizes his new surroundings and bolts off away from the wolves. The wolves are torn between the two of you, but eventually decide on the lamb. You've given them enough trouble already.

A bleat. No, a scream sounds far off in the distance.
action: Go downward
response: You descend the ladder, the roof giving a sigh of relief as you do.

Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.
action: Go west
response: The light is gentler now. No, not gentler: weaker. Clouds block the sun, making it easy to see the stable to the east in a field of white. The infirmary lies to the west while the gate is to the south. The monastery offers its hollow promises of warmth to the north.
action: Go north
response: Before you leave, you close the entrance door lest the snow, or worse, get in.

Clouds close off the sky, blocking the light but not the snow.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church stands a little taller now. God cannot see as well through the clouds.

A dark blackish red spill marks the ground.

Four chimes drone from the tower: Sext.
action: You examine the vomit
response: A large pool of vomit has melted a hole in the snow.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: Go inside
response: (opening the calefactory door)

Positioned directly between the dormitory and your own room, the calefactory warms both, although lately it is less than adequate. While the calefactory itself is stiflingly hot, its heat stays confined. Your brow grows damp: your body, feverish. Slightly melted snow creeps in from the cloister to the northwest.

A red scrawl winds its way around the room.
action: You read the scrawl
response: It says:

I'm sorry, God. Please forgive me. The evil of my brothers and the father has been an affront to you. Forgive them. Please.

Someone's here.

That is all.

Wet footsteps sound from behind. "Curious, isn't it?" It is Ignatius.

He sidles up beside you and traces the blood with his hand. "He must have been sicker than we thought," --he pauses-- "The plague makes monsters of us all."
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "What do you mean?" you ask, edging towards the door.

Ignatius laughs: a cold, dead sound. "You know better than any of us, father." He smiles at you.

Ignatius circles the room, but he never strays far from the door.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: "I don't know what you're talking about," you reply. He's close. Too close.

"Hah." Ignatius winks. Funny, it blinds him for a moment. "Of course you don't, father. I'm just teasing."

Ignatius looks you up and down, unblinking.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: You muster a weak, sickly laugh. "Right. Haha."

All he does is stare.
action: You talk to Ignatius
response: No response.
action: You kill Ignatius
response: You move, but you are far too slow. Or perhaps he just has a lot more practice. A knife flashes from his frock and across your neck.

There is plenty of ink for the wall now.
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying:
Lucca's paper
a hare
Matteo's note
a coin
a tinderbox
a candle (lit)
a frock (being worn)
action: Go west
response: "Yes, I should be going too," Ignatius says, slowly. "I will see you later, father."
You can go only northwest or out.
action: Unlock hatch
response: What do you want to unlock the hatch with?
action: Key
response: You fit the key into the lock and turn. Click.
action: You open hatch
response: You open the hatch.
action: Go downward
response: The stairs are slippery with something. A particularly poor step sends you careening down, your candle getting snuffed out in the process.

You brace yourself for the hard impact at the bottom, but it never comes. Instead, you fall into a soft, uneven mound. It jars your bones, but at least nothing breaks. The light from the kitchen barely makes it down the stairs: all you see is shadows.
action: Search
response: What do you want to search?
action: Go upwards
response: Just as you begin making your way up the stairs, the sound of footsteps in the kitchen makes you freeze. Someone is coming.

"Damn!" You hear someone curse from the kitchen. The footsteps grow faster as they rush towards the stairs.
action: You hide
response: Where do you want to hide?

"Come on out, father!" The voice is hoarse and broken. A candle bobs down the stairwell.
action: You hide under the bodies
response: Bracing yourself for the smell, you worm your way into the pile of bodies. The weight is suffocating, as is the smell.

He searches around for a few moments: it appears your plan is working.

"Come out!" he demands. "I know you're in here."
action: Wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

"Enough games, father" he says, drawing a wickedly curved knife. Moving with cold, swift strikes, he begins stabbing into the mound of bodies.
action: You hit figure
response: You wait till he's close before swinging your leg as hard as you can into the back of his knee. He crumbles, his head smashing against the hard floor.
action: You kill figure
response: You raise your foot and slam it into his head. It gives, but only slightly. So you jump. Up and down. Up and down. When you are done, he is little more than a smear upon the ground.

You grin.
action: You remove the cowl
response: (first taking the cowl)
You can't while hiding.
action: Unhide
response: You return to the open.

You can make out little. Some light streams in down the stairs, but it is not enough. The floor is covered in something lumpy and deep.

There is a bloody smear upon the stone from where you ground his head into the floor.
action: Search figure
response: Warily, you lift the cowl from the man's face.

Ignatius.

A chorus of rings sounds from the tower, echoing through the land. Five rings. None.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: You can make out little. Some light streams in down the stairs, but it is not enough. The floor is covered in something lumpy and deep.

There is a bloody smear upon the stone from where you ground his head into the floor.
action: Light candle
response: The fat sizzles for a moment as the flame comes to life but settles down soon after.

Dozens of bodies fill the cellar: waist-high in some places. The faces are familiar, if not for the plague and decay. Hollow eyes drill into you from all sides. The flicker of the candle makes the corpses writhe and dance.

There is little food left. An old cask of wine sits against one side.

There is a bloody smear upon the stone from where you ground his head into the floor.

A prybar leans propped up against the cask.
action: You eat Ignatius
response: The blood is warm, delicate. It has a hint of illness, but it still soothes the thirst that dries you deep inside.
action: You eat the corpse
response: The mass is soft; your teeth enter easily. You tear off a chunk. Flesh. Plague flesh. The tumor squelches in your mouth, and rancid blood drips from your lips.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You examine the cask
response: It is big and empty. The Eucharist often gets larger in times of stress.
action: You get the prybar
response: Taken.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You go to the west
response: You can go only up or out.
action: Go southeast
response: These walls are Constantin's tomb. Slime coats the floor and slides from the walls. The stench is trapped, harsh. It can be escaped to the northwest.

Constantin's corpse sinks into his bed.
action: You eat constantin
response: Constantin's flesh is soft and squishy. The plague has done much. You barely have to chew. It simply slides down your throat and into your belly.
action: Pry flagstone
response: What do you want to pry the flagstone with?
action: Bar
response: Fitting the bar between the cracks in the flooring, you pry the flagstone up. It comes out easily.

Where it lay, in a slight hollow in the soil, are a few wrinkled sheets of paper.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You get the paper
response: (the papers)
Taken.

And he said: "What hath thou hidden from me?" Joshua 247:94
action: You read the paper
response: Which do you mean, the papers or Lucca's paper?
action: %
response: It has been five days, now. Five days since I made the choice. Five days since I closed the gate.

Really, there was no choice. Rovato was damned when the first spot appeared: when the first bloody cough ensued from the mouth of an urchin. To have allowed the sick sanctuary at Saint Cuthbert's would only have damned us as well.

But we were already damned.

The plague came. And now we suffer.

Six crisp chimes mark Vespers. Your heart flutters for a moment, and you place your head in your hands.

Your room is small; it is the same as all the others, but it seems smaller of late. With so many of your brothers gone, there has been little for you to do but wait. Wait for the spots to appear in this tiny, dark room.

A chill breeze spins in through the window and out the door to the west.

Your old desk is pushed up against one side. It sags but holds itself up proudly.

Against the other side is your bed, the blanket wrapped up in itself from this morning.
action: Go north
response: Bowing your head through the brush, you enter a clearing.

A small patch of snow surrounded by briars. This used to be part of the garden; now nature has reclaimed it. The belltower rises out of the briars: a small hint of civilization in the wild.

The hole through the briars leads back south.

As you enter the clearing, you see what the bleat was. A lamb, no more than a few weeks old, is tied to a branch, struggling frantically. He cries out in terror as a pack of wolves encroach from the briars. They are hungry and confused. Do they go for the small, easy meat? Or the larger, more difficult meat?

Just then, a shout from the belltower draws your attention. "Yoohoo, father!" You look up to see Drogo waving happily. "You shouldn't have come: it's feeding time." -- he shrugs -- "Oh well. Either way, they'll get fed." With that, he disappears down the stairs.

Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves. -- Matthew 10:16
action: You untie the lamb
response: Darting quickly, you tear the lamb from the branch and clutch him to your chest. His quivering shakes your bones.

The wolves eye you and the lamb hungrily, uttering low, weak growls.
action: You throw the lamb
response: You toss the lamb to the wolves, hoping to divert their attention. You don't. One immediately being gobbling up the lamb, but the others set their eyes, and their teeth, on you.

Your own bleats echo the lamb.
action: Go downward
response: You descend the ladder, the roof giving a sigh of relief as you do.

Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence. As die the shepard, so does the flock. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Go west
response: The light is gentler now. No, not gentler: weaker. Clouds block the sun, making it easy to see the stable to the east in a field of white. The infirmary lies to the west while the gate is to the south. The monastery offers its hollow promises of warmth to the north.
action: You go east
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

A dark blackish red spill marks the ground.
action: Go up
response: This is as close to Heaven as you'll ever be.
action: You ring bell
response: (the bell)
The bell clangs. You have never been this close when it has before. Your ears sting for a bit before settling down.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You listen
response: The wind. Nothing more.
action: You go to the southeast
response: These walls are Constantin's tomb. Slime coats the floor and slides from the walls. The stench is trapped, harsh. It can be escaped to the northwest.

A dark blackish red spill marks the ground.

Constantin lies on his side, vomit oozing from the side of his mouth. A set of keys dangles from the belt of his frock, jingling ever so slightly.
action: You kill Constantin
response: Moving swiftly, you rip the pillow from beneath Constantin's head and slam it onto his face. He is so weak. A few kicks are all he gives before he shudders and goes still.

He was weak. You are doing well, father. It is almost finished. -- Esther 8394:48
action: You get keys
response: Taken.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You go to the south
response: The dead don't eat, or so you've been told. Still, the kitchen is practically empty. Bare tables stand with no crumbs on them, and a hatch through the floor leads to the cellar. The refectory lies to the north.

A cutlery rack sits on one of the tables.

A bare cupboard sits up against the wall.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You unlock the hatch with the key
response: You fit the key into the lock and turn. Click.

Damn Constantin and his locks. -- Deuteronomy 463:4
action: You go downwards
response: The stairs are slippery with something. A particularly poor step sends you careening down, your candle getting snuffed out in the process.

You brace yourself for the hard impact at the bottom, but it never comes. Instead, you fall into a soft, uneven mound. It jars your bones, but at least nothing breaks. The light from the kitchen barely makes it down the stairs: all you see is shadows.

Be careful, father. Someone's coming. -- Luke 4356:235
action: You hide
response: Where do you want to hide?
action: You hide under the corpses
response: Bracing yourself for the smell, you worm your way into the pile of bodies. The weight is suffocating, as is the smell.

A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
action: You wait
response: Time passes. Slowly.

Footsteps sound through the hatch. They are faint but growing stronger.
action: You eat the corpse
response: The mass is soft; your teeth enter easily. You tear off a chunk. Flesh. Plague flesh. The tumor squelches in your mouth, and rancid blood drips from your lips.

A chorus of rings sounds from the tower, echoing through the land. Five rings. None.
action: You eat figure
response: The blood is warm, delicate. It has a hint of illness, but it still soothes the thirst that dries you deep inside.
action: Search figure
response: Warily, you lift the cowl from the man's face.

Ignatius.
action: Keep going
response: You've already done that.
action: You get all
response: prybar: Taken.
action: You eat constantin
response: Constantin's flesh is soft and squishy. The plague has done much. You barely have to chew. It simply slides down your throat and into your belly.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You get Constantin
response: He is too heavy.
action: You go to the north
response: Ignatius's room does not smell as strongly as the others. A bed is pushed up against one wall, opposite the door to the south.
action: You go south
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: Burn paper
response: (the papers)
It does not light. The dampness spoils everything here.
action: Go north
response: Church (in the pews)
The pews stumble over eachother, desperately crawling for the chancel in the north. The light outside finds no entrance: the Saints will not permit it. The frescoes are all but lost in the darkness above.

Matteo welcomes you to the chancel from his perch on the cross. His perpetual grin consumes his face and blood drips into his eyes from the crown of thorns.

A rank chamberpot sits before the chancel, human filth caking its sides.

The Saints scream from their glass cages. They would run, but they are trapped.
action: You examine crown
response: Matteo grins. It spreads throughout the church.
action: You go to the north
response: Church (on the chancel)
God, to think of all the time you wasted up here. The blind leading the blind. A quiet laugh spreads through your heart. A joke. The rest of the church lies to the south; it's not as funny of a joke.

Matteo welcomes you to the chancel from his perch on the cross. His perpetual grin consumes his face and blood drips into his eyes from the crown of thorns.

Wormholes, rotted flesh, and maggots are all that remain on Saint Cuthbert's bones.

The lectern has crumbled away. The weight of the Bible is crushing to the wicked.

The Saints scream from their glass cages. They would run, but they are trapped.
action: Cross
response: You can go only south, down or out.
action: You look at the cross
response: Matteo revels from his perch, his blood staining the splintered wood.
action: You look at Cuthbert
response: He is a body with holes, or a skeleton with flesh. Rot extends to his bones, causing them to crumble into vile dust.
action: You look at Bible
response: The dead animal hide wrapping its pages is rotted and filled with maggots.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You get Bible
response: It burns to the touch, charring your hands.
action: Go south
response: Church (in the pews)
The pews stumble over eachother, desperately crawling for the chancel in the north. The light outside finds no entrance: the Saints will not permit it. The frescoes are all but lost in the darkness above.

Matteo welcomes you to the chancel from his perch on the cross. His perpetual grin consumes his face and blood drips into his eyes from the crown of thorns.

The Saints scream from their glass cages. They would run, but they are trapped.

A rank chamberpot sits before the chancel, human filth caking its sides.
action: Go east
response: Cold, heavy light slides in through the window and creeps along the floor out the door to the west.

The dim light leaches all color from the desk.

The bed, cold and harsh, no longer welcomes you.
action: You talk to Cecilia
response: "Damn them," she spits. "Very well. Go to the stone in Matteo's room. I want to see what this whole situation is about."
action: You talk to Cecilia
response: "Go now. It is time."
action: You go west
response: The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.

A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.

Cecilia paces back and forth.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You kill Cecilia
response: You move, but something holds you back.

Kill me not, for I will be your salvation. -- Job 345:90
action: You look at the corpses
response: Dozens of bodies line the wall: the villagers of Rovato.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: You eat the corpses
response: The flesh is hard. Your teeth grind upon it, eventually releasing a tiny lump of plague-ridden muscle. You chew. It tastes delicious nonetheless.
action: You go to the north
response: Darkness begins to creep across the sky from atop the infirmary in the west. The last rays of light expose the stables to the east and the gate to the south. The monastery lies to the north, its walls offering promises of shelter.

A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
action: You go north
response: The last hint of shelter against the outside world. But it is only a hint. The wind rushes by like a stream of ice water to the south: only the curve of the arch protects you. The warmth, for as much as it can be called that, of the monastery awaits to the north and the cold of outside to the south.
action: You go north
response: Before you leave, you close the entrance door lest the snow, or worse, get in.

Clouds close off the sky, blocking the light but not the snow.

The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.

The church rolls and laughs to the north, pointing Her sharp fingers in a perpetual mock at God.
action: You go east
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

An itch tickles beneath your skin.
action: Go west
response: The only room at Saint Cuthbert's large enough to hold all the brothers, except for the church, the refectory seems immense. Normally, when you are in here the place is alive. Now, the only movement is that of drafts spinning between the tables and out to the cloister in the east. Row upon row of deserted seats stand testament to the damage inflicted by the plague. The kitchen lies to the south.

Brother Drogo sits at one of the tables, scratching furiously at its hard surface.

Whispers dance in your ears. Growing. Fading.
action: You talk to Drogo
response: "How are you feeling, brother?"

"Oh, I am feeling quite alright. In fact, I feel like a bird who crawls under the soil."
action: P.
response: (Brother Lucca)
He's not something you can open.
action: You go to the north
response: Dozens of openings line the hall, each leading to a separate cell, except for the west, which leads to the cloister. Although there are no doors, the entrances are positioned as such to afford as much privacy as possible. Brother Matteo's chamber is to the south, Ignatius's to the north, Drogo's newly appointed cell is to the northeast, Constantin's is to the southeast, and Lucca's to the southwest.

A scraping sound comes from Constantin's cell, forming an eerie melody with the sobs from Matteo's.

A warmth spreads through your body, soothing the chill and fear from your bones. Salvation.

She is here.

"I am here," she said, her voice calming the frightened lamb. "There is nothing more to fear. I will be your salvation." -- Ruth 899:3411
action: Go south
response: Pushing the bar out of the way, you open the door, allowing a frail figure and a drift of snow to spill into the hall.

Before you, fingers bloody and face as pale as the snow it lies in, is a young woman. Her clothing is little more than tatters with stains of blood from where her hands were resting.

"Please," she gasps, raising herself up for a moment. "I am so cold." With that, she returns her face to the icy ground.

Honour and majesty are before him: strength and beauty are in his sanctuary. -- Psalms 96:6
action: Light fire
response: After much coaxing, you finally get the wet logs to ignite. The flame is weak, but it will do.

The warmth is finally enough for her to stir.

"Food," she says. "Please."

With that, she passes back into slumber.

Half of the wood he burns in the fire. He also warms himself and says, "Ah! I am warm; I see the fire." -- Isaiah 44:16
action: %