The NeverEnding Quest - Going to Wardrobe - 1/26/17
01-26-2017, 10:51 PM
> text size smell.
[!: Noun Error]
>text size small.
Done.
> Open Eyes
You open your eyes and are overwhelmed.
There's a bird's eye that can see a whole other spectrum of colors, a thermal eye that can see the heat-signature of living things, the half-blind eye that sees the world in black and white blurs, and the typewriter eye that can see typewritten words dancing along the surface of objects.
The typewriter eye sees the words congregate around the side of the wardrobe. The thermal eye sees a swath of heat emanating from the east wall.
The amount of input at once is extremely painful causing you to close all your eyes reflexively. You tentatively open your normal eyes to the sight of a normal room, but keep your other eyes closed.
It seems like everything is in order, but you shouldn't open all your eyes at once like that. It's not good for your health.
> take backpack.wear backpack.put barf bag in backpack.
You take your trusty backpack and slip your arm into the sling. You reach around and store the barf bag in the left side pocket along with the shiny coin. It takes a while since your arm isn't very flexible, but you manage to do it nevertheless.
As this goes on, you hear rasping, creaking, and rasping again in that order coming from the due east. You have no idea how you slept through this mess. Oh wait a minute! Now you do.
You tune out the creaking and rasping noises.
> Take moss
You walk over to the doorframe and pull the moss down. The hallway starts grumbling and twitching at your presence, but you pay it no heed. You're getting this moss and you're getting it now. Annoying ass hallway be damned.
> open wardrobe. x wardrobe. open dresser. x dresser
You open the wardrobe.
The wardrobe must be the most elegant piece of furniture you've ever seen. Carved into the wood are depictions of angels running from the curved foot of the wardrobe and spiraling up its edges. The angels seem to be punishing sinners, most of them ferocious and ready for smiting. They are various in their horrific virtues ranging from small eye-rings with wings purging peasants with holy fire to immense tentacle monsters with wings skewering a group of cultists with spears.
Your favorite angel has to be the human-looking one with his large, eye-peppered tongue lolling out like a dog's. He is dressed in clothes too big for his figure and seems to be tapping away on a rectangular device similar to the one you're holding.
He's very lax compared to the intensity of the other angels and that difference is strangely appealing to you. It's probably because of his relatability. You aren't the one to do your job when everybody else is doing it for you.
On the side of the wardrobe is a message inscribed in a foreign language. You aren't able to read it with your normal eyes, but you recognize that the symbols below the message are someone's initials.
The wardrobe is open.
You open the drawer.
There is nothing special about the drawer. Unless you think complete mundanity is special. Which it isn't.
The drawer is open.
>_
[!: Noun Error]
>text size small.
Done.
> Open Eyes
You open your eyes and are overwhelmed.
There's a bird's eye that can see a whole other spectrum of colors, a thermal eye that can see the heat-signature of living things, the half-blind eye that sees the world in black and white blurs, and the typewriter eye that can see typewritten words dancing along the surface of objects.
The typewriter eye sees the words congregate around the side of the wardrobe. The thermal eye sees a swath of heat emanating from the east wall.
The amount of input at once is extremely painful causing you to close all your eyes reflexively. You tentatively open your normal eyes to the sight of a normal room, but keep your other eyes closed.
It seems like everything is in order, but you shouldn't open all your eyes at once like that. It's not good for your health.
> take backpack.wear backpack.put barf bag in backpack.
You take your trusty backpack and slip your arm into the sling. You reach around and store the barf bag in the left side pocket along with the shiny coin. It takes a while since your arm isn't very flexible, but you manage to do it nevertheless.
As this goes on, you hear rasping, creaking, and rasping again in that order coming from the due east. You have no idea how you slept through this mess. Oh wait a minute! Now you do.
You tune out the creaking and rasping noises.
> Take moss
You walk over to the doorframe and pull the moss down. The hallway starts grumbling and twitching at your presence, but you pay it no heed. You're getting this moss and you're getting it now. Annoying ass hallway be damned.
> open wardrobe. x wardrobe. open dresser. x dresser
You open the wardrobe.
The wardrobe must be the most elegant piece of furniture you've ever seen. Carved into the wood are depictions of angels running from the curved foot of the wardrobe and spiraling up its edges. The angels seem to be punishing sinners, most of them ferocious and ready for smiting. They are various in their horrific virtues ranging from small eye-rings with wings purging peasants with holy fire to immense tentacle monsters with wings skewering a group of cultists with spears.
Your favorite angel has to be the human-looking one with his large, eye-peppered tongue lolling out like a dog's. He is dressed in clothes too big for his figure and seems to be tapping away on a rectangular device similar to the one you're holding.
He's very lax compared to the intensity of the other angels and that difference is strangely appealing to you. It's probably because of his relatability. You aren't the one to do your job when everybody else is doing it for you.
On the side of the wardrobe is a message inscribed in a foreign language. You aren't able to read it with your normal eyes, but you recognize that the symbols below the message are someone's initials.
The wardrobe is open.
You open the drawer.
There is nothing special about the drawer. Unless you think complete mundanity is special. Which it isn't.
The drawer is open.
>_