Theory

The hallways outside are not yet deserted. From time to time, lonely steps shuffle past, staff and students occupied with late-night research – or the last members of her audience, slow to wake from their sorcerous confusion. They have closed the doors behind them, but the brassbound oak remains unlocked.

You calm yourself and, exhaling, counsel caution – and theory.

The Dean’s Daughter laughs and the Priest-In-Rags scoffs. There is a short pause and she then draws flowering chalk sigils on the blackboard. You have not seen the intersecting lines before, but their meaning is plain. The Priest continues his grumbling but gasps in recognition as you add your own symbols to the scheme.

Revelation, it seems, can be shared while clothed.

You have gained [3] Wise Words

You now have {@0 Wise Words} Wise Words

He, for all his grousing, is a man of some learning, and the Dean’s Daughter shows that she does deserve her position – if not much more. You, your studies long neglected for the seafaring trade, struggle to comprehend some of the finer points she is making and ask for clarification.

She does and understanding dawns on you as it does on them. The skin of the world is pierced and even the language of signs and learned abstraction fails where emotion answers questions your human tongue cannot pose.

She is breathing heavily and he has stumbled back to his seat. Lights dance before your eyes, spelling out something you dare not read. Your heart beats like the drum of creation, blood swelling like a river fat from springtime thaw. The taste of iron is on your lips and the air smells like her perfume – ambergris and march bread heavy with rose water.

A waking dream beckons, surging like the dark Sea.

You have lost Sanity

Your Sanity is now: {if Sanity = 1}1 – THE TERROR {elseif Sanity = 2}2 – Nightmares {elseif Sanity = 3}3 – Bad Dreams {elseif Sanity = 4} 4 – Dreamless Sleep {elseif Sanity = 0} 0 – MADNESS {else} X – You are not playing{endif}

"Impossible." Her hands are shaking and a mad light shines in her eyes. "I need to – we cannot forget. The words, oh Saints, the words." She kneels in front of the blackboard scribbles, whispering to herself. "Leave. I need to... Leave."

The flow of time is warped

{if The Passage of Time > 95} Your Time in Barenhaven is running out {elseif The Passage of Time > 80} Your Time in Barenhaven is coming to a close {elseif The Passage of Time > 60} You have some Time left in Barenhaven {elseif The Passage of Time > 50} Your Time in Barenhaven is half-way over {elseif The Passage of Time > 30} You have quite some Time left to spend in Barenhaven {elseif The Passage of Time > 15} You have a lot of Time left to spend in Barenhaven {elseif The Passage of Time > 5} Your Time in Barehaven has just begun {else} You are now spending Time in Barenhaven {endif}

The Priest’s laughter sounds hollow as he grabs you by the sleeve. "Come. We cannot **** her. She knows where to find me." A sweaty sheen has returned to his gaunt face and his breath, hot on your ear, smells like almonds. He gives you his address. "And now you do as well. Come find me there, First Officer, if you’re so inclined. I sense a kindred soul and a valuable ally. Maybe you will teach us what she dares not."