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      *     This file was generated by AGT Decompiler v1.0
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MESSAGE 1
   You have #VAR1# hits and #VAR6# spell points remaining.                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 2
   You are feeling vicious and mean.                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 3
   You are feeling surly and nasty.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 4
   You are feeling oddly confused and spiritually unfocused.                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 5
   You are feeling spiritual and pure.                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 6
   JenLee has #VAR3# hits remaining.                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 7
   She is looking disturbingly arrogant and mean.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 8
   She is looking irritable and short-tempered.                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 9
   She is looking somewhat uncertain and distracted.                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 10
   She is looking radiant with good will and spiritual power.                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 11
   That command is the last coherent thought that goes through your mind, for     
   you find that the unpleasant, nasty thoughts well up and take over; you seem   
   to have completely succumbed to evil.  Eventually the Demon finds you and,     
   congratulating himself for the successful array of temptations he set before   
   you, tortures you for a thousand years before setting you up as a minor demon  
   with a charter for tempting fallen clergy.                                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 12
   Unfortunately, you don't have time to act on that command, for you are         
   suddenly attacked from behind, completely by surprise.  You turn to try to     
   defend yourself, and you find that it is JenLee who is attacking you, her face 
   twisted in an ugly, vicious snarl.  You have no armor and no defense, and so   
   she finishes you off quickly.  Your last memory before you die is of JenLee    
   thrusting her sword into your gut to eviscerate you.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 14
   Suddenly, the Demon gives a hideous, spine-tingling cry, as its features       
   twist with insane self-loathing.  Before your horrified, fascinated eyes, he   
   quite literally rips himself to pieces, spitting and stamping on each piece.   
   His eyes are the first to go, ripped out by long fingernails.  Then he pulls   
   off his ears, his nose, and then in a frenzy of scratching and scraping, his   
   entire face.  He rips off one of his legs, opens a long wound in his chest,    
   and then, one by one, yanks out his organs and pounds them to an oozing pulp,  
   using his leg as a cudgel.  Then the other leg is ripped off, and as the       
   Demon's torso falls to the floor, it flays the skin off the legs and breaks    
   the bone.  The chest an empty sack, the torso simply lays on what remains of   
   its back as its fists methodically reduce what's left of the head to flaccid   
   skin and bone fragments.  Finally, the two arms rip themselves free and in an  
   ugly, horrid parody of an arm-wrestling match, flail at each other until they  
   are nothing but useless bags of broken bones and hemorrhaging ichor.           
   Eventually they lie still.  The Demon seems to be dead, done in by his own,    
   unfaceable, self-image.                                                        
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 15
   JenLee, deeply wounded, is unable to hold on any longer, and dies.  Her last   
   words are ones of regret that she won't be present to aid you in the rest of   
   your quest.                                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 16
   Diffidently, JenLee comments that no doubt you know best how to allocate your  
   spell points, but she did want to be sure that you realize that she is badly   
   wounded, and in need of curing.                                                
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 17
   Alas, Tark, that last round seems to have been to much for you, and as you     
   try to act you find yourself expiring, due to your deep and grievous wounds.   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 18
   Alas, Tark, you are wounded to the point where you are barely conscious, much  
   less able to take concerted action.  You are dimly aware of JenLee standing    
   over you, stripping off her gauntlets, though matters quickly come clear when  
   you find that a fourth of your hits have suddenly healed at Jenlee's touch.    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 19
   Alas, Tark, you are wounded to the point where you are barely conscious, much  
   less able to take concerted action.  You are dimly aware of JenLee standing    
   over you, but you know that she has already used her cure for the day, and     
   can be of no dramatic help.  She attempts to apply basic first aid, but        
   nonetheless you soon succumb to your wounds, and die.                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 20
   She is currently carrying the following:                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 21
   Concentrating intently, you attempt to $VERB$ JenLee.  Kneeling by her         
   bedside, you push hard against her sleeping form, and find to your dismay      
   that, after a brief moment of resistance, your hands pass *into* her!  You     
   draw back in a stunned surprise, one quickly followed by watching a transparent
   duplicate of JenLee emerge from her still sleeping body, knuckle the sleep     
   out of her eyes, and then leap to her feet, becoming apparently completely     
   solid and substantial in the process.                                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 22
   JenLee is already awake; attempting to wake her even further is fruitless.     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 23
   $NAME$ is not present here to respond to your suggestion.                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 24
   JenLee gets the $NOUN$ and begins to carry it around.                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 25
   JenLee:  "But you're carrying that yourself, Tark!  You'll have to drop it     
   before I can pick it up."                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 26
   JenLee:  "But there's no $NOUN$ here for me to get, Tark."  She gives you a    
   concerned look.                                                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 27
   JenLee gives it a shot, but eventually has to report that the $NOUN$ is not    
   movable, and so she is incapable of moving it about.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 28
   Alas, you can't conjure that spell unless you are carrying the proper          
   manacord.                                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 29
   Alas, you have insufficient spell points to conjure that spell.                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 30
   As you watch, wounds on JenLee's body miraculously knit themselves, and        
   bruises and other marks likewise fade away.                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 31
   Alas, that spell does not seem to affect the $OBJECT$.                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 32
   A rush of warm healing energy courses through your body, originating at the    
   spot at which you have placed your hand, healing wounds and mending bruises    
   as it goes.                                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 33
   JenLee stoically watches as fresh wounds open on her body, confident that      
   there is a method to your madness.                                             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 34
   A rush of bruising, burning magical energy courses through you, raising ugly,  
   gaping wounds wherever you touch yourself.                                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 35
   Alas, that spell affects only living creatures, and so your spell points are   
   wasted.                                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 36
   You know that spell requires its target be present, and so you manage to stop  
   yourself before you say the power word, and so conserve the spell points.      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 37
   Alas, on the Astral plane you can't attract enough of your Sponsor's           
   attention to make an "away" possible unless you possess a powerful holy        
   symbol.                                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 38
   There's no $NOUN$ present to away, and so the blessed light from your holy     
   cross spends itself, uselessly, on the far wall.                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 39
   A blast of pearly radiance streams forth from your blessed cross and           
   envelopes the $NOUN$, but as it is not an undead, the light fades with no      
   apparent effect.                                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 40
   Summoning your Sponsors, you concentrate your will and focus Their influence   
   into your blessed cross, which glows, shines, and then emits a beam of         
   brilliant pearly light, one in which the very light of Heaven seems to boil.   
   The $NOUN$ is enveloped by the holy radiance, and, to the distant song of      
   orchestral angels (good visuals are much easier on the Astral Plane), is       
   completely and totally obliterated.                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 41
   You already have a magic lantern present, and so you avoid the waste of spell  
   points that conjuring another would entail.                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 42
   As you conjure, you become aware of a speck of golden light which hovers near  
   the floor and begins to grow and grow, all the time surrounded by a thin veil  
   of steam.  As you say the powerword, a sudden thunderclap whips the steam      
   away, revealing the sudden appearance of a lantern shedding a rich, golden     
   light.                                                                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 43
   Suddenly, and without ceremony, the light in your magic lantern extinguishes,  
   and the lantern itself fades into insubstantiality a moment later.             
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 44
   Unfortunately, as the spell description states, you can only cast this spell   
   in a consecrated place or in the presence of a powerful holy object, and       
   neither of those conditions currently hold.                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 45
   As you complete the spell of Blessing, your hands begin to glow white and      
   blue.  As you pronounce the final word of power, similarly colored beams       
   shoot out from them and play over JenLee.  When the lights die down, there is  
   no obvious physical difference, but she looks happier, nobler, as if she has   
   looked deep into herself and liked, on the whole, what she saw.                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 46
   As you complete the spell of Blessing, your hands begin to glow white and      
   blue.  As you pronounce the final word of power, similarly colored beams       
   shoot out from them and play over Demon of Dark Delight as he recoils in       
   horror.  When the lights die down, there is no obvious physical difference,    
   but he is wearing an expression of disgusted confusion that seems on the       
   verge of becoming complete self-loathing.                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 47
   As you complete the spell of Blessing, your hands begin to glow white and      
   blue.  As you pronounce the final word of power, similarly colored beams       
   shoot out from them and play over the silver cross.  When the lights die       
   down, you can see the cross itself has begun to glow with a soft, holy light,  
   and its very presence seems to warm and comfort you.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 48
   As you complete the spell of Blessing, your hands begin to glow white and      
   blue.  As you pronounce the final word of power, similarly colored beams       
   shoot out from them and play over JenLee's sword.  When the lights die down,   
   you can see the sword has begin to throb faintly, in time with JenLee's        
   heartbeat, and that it sheds a bright pearly radiance, sufficient to see by.   
   It is clearly a blade blessed by the Sponsors.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 49
   As you complete the spell of Blessing, your hands begin to glow white and      
   blue.  As you pronounce the final word of power, the radiance spreads from     
   your hands and runs, quickly, up and down your entire body.  Bathed in the     
   holy radiance of the Sponsors, you can look at yourself and your acts          
   dispassionately, separating the good from the bad, and with Their support you  
   can resolve to lead a better, cleaner life in the future.  You eventually      
   come out of trance feeling shaken, but purged and spiritually renewed.         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 50
   You know from its spell description that this spell works only on sentient     
   creatures, and so you don't cast it, to avoid the waste of spell points.       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 51
   As you utter the power word of the spell, a stream of black radiance emits     
   from your outstretched palm and strikes your target in its head.  Immediately  
   the facial expression becomes one of vacant friendliness, and you are now      
   sure that any suggestion you might make will be acted upon, if possible.       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 52
   With a rueful smile, Jeff begins to fade away, as the duration of his          
   summoning ends.                                                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 53
   With a surprised grunt, Loam begins to fade away, as the duration of his       
   summoning ends.                                                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 54
   With a triumphant laugh, the Demon begins to fade away, as the summoning       
   comes to an end.                                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 55
   It's senseless to try to summon something which is already present, and so     
   you forebear.                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 56
   With a rumbling groan, the ground crumbles and suddenly begins to spit dirt    
   and rock into the air, like a flowing fountain.  Gradually the fountain of     
   dirt congeals and takes shape; it is Loam, the earth elemental.                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 57
   You complete the spell, and nothing at all happens, you don't even use up the  
   requisite spell points.  An incorrect name?  An inappropriate target?          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 58
   As you complete the spell of Blessing, your hands begin to glow white and      
   blue.  As you pronounce the final word of power, similarly colored beams       
   shoot out from them and play over the spring water.  When the lights die       
   down, you can see at a glance that the water has become blessed and holy.      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 59
   In a sudden frenzy, the air about you begins to blow and boil, whipping your   
   hair and cloak about.  The turbulence slowly settles into a whirlpool pattern  
   that coils upon itself, tighter and tighter, until it suddenly coalesces into  
   the form of your friend, Jeff the genii.                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 60
   As you chant the spell, a tiny point of black light forms and then begins to   
   grow.  It resembles a large mass of black linen, clinging creepily to some     
   horrid object thrashing at its center.  The mass grows and grows until, with   
   your word of power, it suddenly resolves itself into the shape of a tall       
   human, in evening dress, who radiates an evil and a malice so strong that you  
   experience it as a physical bludgeoning.                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 61
   With a dying whine, the magical energy you had built up (and in which you had  
   invested your spell points) dies up and uselessly dissipates.  You must have   
   the name wrong.                                                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 62
   Jeff:  "I'm sorry Tark, but my abilities are strongly constrained on the       
   Astral Plane.  Unless I am in the Astral equivalent of open air, I can be no   
   help to you."                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 63
   Sensing your intent, Jeff transforms himself completely into a whirlpool of    
   air and transports you, undisturbed and calm at its eye, to the south bank     
   of the valley of the grue.                                                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 64
   Sensing your intent, Jeff transforms himself completely into a whirlpool of    
   air and transports you, undisturbed and calm at its eye, to the north bank     
   of the Valley of the Grue.                                                     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 65
   In a confused mixture of game and meta-level communication, Jeff asks whether  
   you want to go to the north (0) or south (1) bank of the Valley of the Grue?   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 66
   The burning, acidic stink of the oliephant's nest fills your mouth and lungs.  
   It is so poisonously noxious that you take damage simply from breathing it.    
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 67
   In a hideous rush of wings and limbs, you are attacked by the oliephant.       
   Luckily the poisonous gas, straight from its source, kills you                 
   instantaneously, and so you don't survive to experience being webbed down and  
   then rent, limb from limb, by the creature's claws and tentacles.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 68
   Suddenly, your blood freezes to hear ponderous, squishy movement far           
   overhead.  Simultaneously, the sickly sweet smell intensifies almost beyond    
   your ability to bear it.  It's clear --- the oliephant is returning to its     
   nest.                                                                          
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 69
   The baby, with a pathetic scream of pain and anguish, is skewered by the       
   sword and, choking on the fountain of blood that erupts from its mouth, dies.  
   It slides off the end of the sword onto the hard ground, breaking most of its  
   limbs, including the thighs.                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 70
   The dagger is plunged into the throat of the baby, silencing its final,        
   heart-rending sobs and screams.  Gruesomely, the dagger seems to somehow suck  
   up or absorb the baby's skin and flesh, as after a few moments in which the    
   sole event is a constant slurping noise, the only thing left is a perfectly    
   preserved baby skeleton.                                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 71
   As if in sympathy, and in revulsion for the act it was forced to commit, the   
   sword first loses its holy light and then breaks, becoming useless.            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 72
   The baby begins to scream in pain and incomprehension as it is messily beaten  
   to death, a process that breaks all its bones and reduces it to a bloody,      
   useless pulp.                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 73
   You're going to need specialized tools to $VERB$ the $NOUN$, such as a lathe   
   and a saw that can cut bone.                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 74
   $VERB$ the $NOUN$ out of what?  You have to have the appropriate materials.    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 75
   Carefully separating the baby's skeleton to avoid damaging its bones, you use  
   the machinery in the room to construct a pair of scissors made from the        
   baby's thighs.  The specialized tools make this rather straightforward and     
   easy, despite your lack of experience.                                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 76
   The baby isn't present to $VERB$, lucky for it.                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 77
   JenLee is distraught, confused, and upset by your command, but, audibly        
   reassuring herself that you've never led her astray before, she follows your   
   directions.                                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 79
   Smiling and eager, the charmed cannibal roots around in his drawers and        
   through his shelves until he finds a pair of cunning scissors, made from an    
   infant's thighs.  These he gives to you happily, and then he watches you       
   eagerly, waiting for your next command.                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 80
   Abashed at his inability to aid you, the charmed cannibal haltingly explains   
   that the two of you are not currently at his hut, where he keeps all of his    
   stock, and so there's not a pair of scissors present that he can give you.     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 81
   Abashed and ashamed, the charmed cannibal tells you that the scissors he       
   already gave you are the only pair he possesses, and so he doesn't have        
   another to give you, though he certainly would, if only he could.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 82
   The cannibal looks through his stock once again, and then tells you the bone   
   scissors he already sold you were his only item of that type, and he hasn't    
   another to spare.                                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 83
   He backs away from you, baring his teeth.  His guttural snarls are hard to     
   follow, but the gist of them seem to be that he claims to be an honest         
   craftsman who sells his wares for honest gold.  If you aren't willing and      
   ready to pay for what you want, you can only be a thief, and he warns you      
   that the dungeons around here are most unpleasant.                             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 84
   He takes your gold and, after weighing it briefly on a set of scales made (of  
   course) from skin and bone, he pulls open a particular drawer and pulls out    
   exactly what you need, a pair of tiny scissors constructed from the thigh      
   bones of an infant human.                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 85
   JenLee, gritting her teeth and using as light a stroke as she can manage,      
   cuts you slightly with the edge of her sword.                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 86
   JenLee draws the dagger lightly across your skin, trying to inflict just       
   enough of a wound to draw blood.  The dagger, though, leaps and twists in her  
   hand like a live thing, and wounds you deeply.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 87
   JenLee:  "What would you like me to $VERB$ you with, Tark?"                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 88
   JenLee, concentrating carefully and using as light a stroke as she can         
   manage, cuts herself slightly with the edge of her sword.                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 89
   JenLee draws the dagger lightly across her skin, trying to inflict just        
   enough of a wound to draw blood.  The dagger, though, leaps and twists in her  
   hand like a live thing, and wounds her deeply.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 90
   Bumbling about with the unfamiliar weapon, you $VERB$ yourself somewhat more   
   deeply than you intended.                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 91
   You draw the dagger lightly across your skin, trying to inflict just enough    
   of a wound to draw blood.  The dagger, though, leaps and twists in your hand   
   like a live thing, and wounds you deeply.                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 92
   And what do you want to $VERB$ with?                                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 93
   Bumbling about with the unfamiliar weapon, you $VERB$ JenLee somewhat more     
   deeply than you intended.                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 94
   You draw the dagger lightly across her skin, trying to inflict just enough of  
   a wound to draw blood.  The dagger, though, leaps and twists in your hand      
   like a live thing, and wounds JenLee deeply.                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 95
   Though a wound has been successfully opened, only a couple of drops of blood   
   spill out, not enough to form a usable puddle.                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 96
   Blood pours from the newly opened wound and forms a pool of blood on the       
   ground.                                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 97
   JenLee:  "I'm sorry, Tark, but I've already used my cure for the day."         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 98
   JenLee pulls off her gauntlets with alacrity and lays her hands on your        
   exposed skin.  Warm, healing energies rush into you, knitting your wounds,     
   and once again you feel that deep, spiritual bound with JenLee that this       
   ritual underscores for both of you.                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 99
   JenLee:  "Tark, I can't help but notice that you are grievously injured.       
   Don't you think you should arrange to be healed?"                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 100
   Once the dust clears, you can see that the prisoner's clothes and shoes were   
   left behind, untouched by the holy conflagration.                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 101
   Suddenly a grue rushes from behind a rock, and with fangs bared and claws      
   held at the ready, confronts you.                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 102
   From your outstretched hand comes a grey light which showers the $OBJECT$.     
   Fatal wounds immediately open all over the $OBJECT$'s body, and it promptly    
   dies, gushing blood in all directions.                                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 103
   Sensing your intentions, the grue takes the initiative and attacks, raking     
   you with its powerful claws.                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 104
   The $OBJECT$ stands still, mutely unresisting, as it is attacked.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 105
   You bumble around unsuccessfully with the $OBJECT$, but being no good          
   with edged weapons, you are unable to bring it usefully to bear in this        
   melee.                                                                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 106
   You pummel the $NOUN$ with your fists, without apparent effect.                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 107
   Sensing her intentions, the grue takes the initiative and attacks JenLee,      
   raking her with its powerful claws.                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 108
   JenLee leaps to the attack, but her sword bounces ineffectually off of the     
   grue's tough and resilient hide.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 109
   JenLee leaps to the attack with her blessed sword.  The $NOUN$ attempts to     
   defend, but the sword strikes deep into its heart, killing it utterly.         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 110
   JenLee attacks with the sacrificial dagger.  She strikes only once, near the   
   heart, but that is apparently enough, as suddenly all of the $NOUN$'s blood    
   and skin is absorbed, with a stomach-turning slurping noise, into the          
   dagger.  The $NOUN$ is dead.                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 111
   JenLee:  "What $NOUN$, Tark, should I be attacking?  I don't see one here."    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 112
   JenLee gamely attacks the $NOUN$ with her firsts, without apparent effect.     
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 113
   JenLee:  "But Tark, I'm not carrying the $NOUN$.  How can I drop it?"          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 114
   At your request, JenLee drops the $NOUN$ on the floor.                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 115
   Unfortunately, you haven't the faintest idea how to $VERB$ a $NOUN$.           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 116
   Alas, but you don't have the proper materials to $VERB$ a $NOUN$.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 117
   Following the directions you read earlier, and overcoming your distaste at     
   handling the noxious demonic ichor, you trace out the pentagram on the floor.  
   Standing carefully in the center, you rub a mixture of your blood and spit     
   into each corner of the inner pentagon, and then chant the activation          
   formula.  Slowly the ichor begins to burn off and be replaced by some clear    
   mineral substance which glows with a pleasant bluish light.  This continues    
   until all of ichor is gone and the pentagram is complete.                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 119
   You can't $VERB$ a $NOUN$ unless one is present.                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 120
   You need to have some water available if you want to $VERB$ a $NOUN$.          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 121
   You scrub at the altar some more, but it doesn't get any cleaner than it was   
   previously.                                                                    
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 122
   The altar is crusted with many coatings of dirt, excrement and graffiti; in    
   addition to water, you're going to need something to scrub with if you want    
   to have any chance of returning the altar to its original form.                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 123
   Scrubbing furiously, and encouraged by the way the altar itself seems to       
   repel the dirt and grime, sloughing it off, once you've begun to loosen it,    
   you quickly remove the worst of the graffiti and excrement.  Starting again,   
   you then work to completely polish and clean the altar, and are rewarded by    
   the gradual revealing of the altar's original decorations and carvings, and    
   by a growing sense of inner peace.  As you scrub away the last fleck of        
   grime, the altar suddenly begins to flood the room with a sense of holy        
   presence, its spiritual powers apparently undiminished by its long             
   desecration.                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 124
   You $VERB$ the $NOUN$, which now gleams and shines.  This used up all the      
   water you were carrying, however.                                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 125
   JenLee:  "But there's no $NOUN$ present to attack, Tark."  She gives a         
   puzzled, and somewhat concerned, look.                                         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 126
   JenLee:  "I don't have a $OBJECT$, Tark, but I'll try attacking it with my     
   fists."                                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 127
   Loam, reacting instantly to first word of your command, picks you up, tucks    
   you under one arm, turns the floor to mud and dives in.  His enthusiasm is     
   commendable, but unfortunately, fatal as well, as your body is reduced to a    
   bloody, pummeled pulp at about the same time you lungs fill up with thick      
   mud.                                                                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 128
   Loam, reacting instantly, turns JenLee to stone and picks her up.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 129
   Loam turns you to stone and picks you up, wielding you like a club.  He then   
   proceeds to beat the hell out of the $NOUN$, as you directed.  If there        
   aren't any $NOUN$s around, he tears around in a mad frenzy looking for one,    
   bludgeoning it (and anything else that seems similar) to a bloody pulp.        
   Eventually he gets distracted by an odd vein of stone in a wall and forgets    
   what he was about, and so just leaves you lying in a random hallway.           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 130
   JenLee was discarded, still stoned, at the same spot you are, though you can   
   just barely see her out of the corner of your eyes.  Suddenly a shadow looms   
   over both of you, and you somehow know it belongs to the Demon of Dark         
   Desire.  With a slow, contemplative smile, he de-stones JenLee.  She           
   immediately stands over your body and draws her sword, but with a hand         
   gesture and a twist of his lip he Charms her, enslaving her soul.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 131
   As you lie there, raging with frustration, the Demon of Dark Desire comes and  
   stands over you.  Concentrating intently, he reaches a hand *into* your        
   stoned body, and you mentally convulse in unbelievable, immobile, pain as he   
   withdraws it, bringing with it a handful of fine, gossamer strands of some     
   unknown substance.  These he lifts to his mouth and begins to eat, and as      
   fresh, unimaginable, horrific pain courses through you, you understand that    
   he is eating your soul.  You silently scream a plea for aid, to your           
   Sponsors, to Tiana, anyone --- and it seems that your plea is heard and        
   answered, for you promptly die, though not without suffering some spiritual    
   effects from the damage the Demon was able to inflict before you were          
   spirited away.                                                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 132
   Loam gapes at you stupidly and scratches in the general vicinity of what       
   might pass for an armpit.  He clearly doesn't understand your request.         
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 133
   The prisoner crowds you closely and, turning the full weight of his            
   considerable charisma upon you, asks for a kiss.  "Please, my lovely           
   benefactress, I have been so long without a woman's comforts, it would do      
   much to sustain me in my long, perilous trip back to my homeland.  You are an  
   enemy of the Demon of Dark Delights, and I know his True Name; I will tell     
   you, if only you will kiss me.  Assuredly a reasonable price, no?"             
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 134
   The prisoner, annoyed and frustrated by your delays, suddenly bares long,      
   sharp fangs and, with his cape flapping behind him, attacks, doing grievous    
   damage.  His strength is uncanny, especially remarkable in one so long         
   confined.                                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 135
   The prisoner musters his reserves of dignity and calmly requests that you      
   free him.  "My lady!  You are not one of the Demon's minions, and so you must  
   be his enemy, as am I.  I can help you against him, if only you release me     
   from this durance vile."                                                       
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 136
   The prisoner has already been freed; you cannot free him again.                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 137
   Bending over, you brace one foot against the wall and get a firm grip on the   
   silver chains.  Tugging with all your strength, you rip them out of the wall.  
   Similarly, you twist and turn the manacles themselves until you rip them       
   asunder, freeing the prisoner completely.                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 138
   The prisoner is already completed restrained; how could you lock him up any    
   further?                                                                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 139
   The prisoner dodges nimbly away from your attempts to rebind him into the      
   silver manacles.                                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 140
   The charmed prisoner docilely sits against the wall and allows you to bend     
   the manacles around his hands.  The touch of the silver startles him,          
   however, and you feel yourself losing the charmed control just as you finish   
   binding him.                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 141
   You bend to $VERB$ the prisoner, but he turns his head away demurely.  "I      
   will gladly kiss you, my lady, but only as a free man.  Though I certainly     
   hunger for your sweet lips, anything else would be a dishonor to my            
   forebears, and to my house."                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 142
   You move to kiss him, and he sweeps you into his arms and begins to kiss you   
   with an avidity that frightens you.  You struggle to escape, as he is          
   beginning to bruise you, but the prisoner is stronger than he looked, and      
   holds you fast.  Suddenly, he breaks off the kiss, but only long enough to     
   grab the neck of your robe and rip it open, leaving you bare from breast to    
   ear.  Then, holding you almost tenderly immobile, he pulls back his lips to    
   reveal a vampire's fangs, and sinks them deep into your neck.  As your life's  
   blood pumps into him, you fall into an almost orgasmic swoon, and are soon     
   supported only by his arms.  As you fade into unconsciousness, you hear the    
   vampire say "Hear me, my lady, for I keep my promises, though in my own way.   
   The Demon's name is ...", and you hear no more.                                
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 143
   The charmed prisoner takes you in his arms and kisses you, enthusiastically    
   and well.  Between your weak-kneed response to his evident skill and your own  
   self-loathing at resorting to such a cheap thrill, the fact that there is      
   something distinctly odd about the geometry of the kiss registers only         
   distantly on your consciousness.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 144
   Prisoner:  "I'll give you anything you want, anything I have, if only you      
   release me."                                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 145
   Prisoner:  "Yes, yes, my lady, I'll give you all if you would but favor me     
   with a single, simple kiss."                                                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 146
   With a dopey smile, he sits suddenly on the floor and takes off his shoes,     
   which prove to be wooden platforms with incredibly thick soles.  Reaching      
   around inside of them, he opens them to reveal that both soles are hollow.     
   Standing again, he upturns the shoes to pour gold and jewelry into your        
   outstretched hands.                                                            
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 147
   With a faint "bamf", a magin pops suddenly into the room and, before you can   
   react, steals all of your manacords and teleports away again, leaving behind   
   only a thin dusting of rich earth.                                             
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 148
   With a faint "bamf", a magin pops suddenly into the room.  It quickly          
   realizes that you have no manacords, and so it teleports away again, clearly   
   disappointed.                                                                  
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 149
   Whoops!  You try to take some action and find, to your dismay, that your body  
   falls apart as you do so.  The resurrection seems to have been unsuccessful;   
   there's only so often an Astral Image can be patched back together, you know.  
   Alas, your Image is now completely dissolved, and you are sent back to Prime   
   where you wake in your bed, shaking, knowing that your mission was a failure.  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 150
   Your spirituality level is #VAR2# out of a possible 100.                       
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 151
   JenLee's spirituality level is #VAR4# out of a possible 100.                   
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 152
   With a soft trill of delighted freedom, the immaculate dove, the Soul Song,    
   launches itself from your shoulder into the Astral Plane.  You watch it fly,   
   and as it goes it seems to grow, and stretch, and grow, and stretch, until it  
   as huge as the observable universe and as thin as gossamer.  Eventually it     
   seems to dissipate altogether, spreading itself through the Astral Plane, the  
   place of dreams and hopes.  Looking down, you see yourself beginning to        
   dissolve as well.  You soon will wake in your own bed, the events of this      
   night a confused and unrecollectable jumble --- but still, throughout the      
   rest of your life, especially when things seem darkest and most bleak, a       
   dove's liquid liquid trilling will come to you and speak of hope, and you      
   will be comforted.                                                             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 153
   The Demon of Dark Delights rants and raves at the edge of your pentagram, but  
   is unable either to attack you or to escape your summons.                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 154
   With a twist of his hand and a single Word of evil might, the Demon seduces    
   JenLee and places her soul in bondage.  Her face immediately becomes twisted   
   in an ugly, vicious snarl, and standing to the Demon's side, she begs for the  
   chance to spit you on her sword.                                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 155
   With a single arcane gesture, the Demon magically arrests your movement,       
   making you helpless.  As you stand there, raging with frustration, the Demon   
   of Dark Desire comes and considers you.  Concentrating intently, he reaches a  
   hand *into* your body, and you mentally convulse in unbelievable, immobile,    
   pain as he withdraws it, bringing with it a handful of fine, gossamer strands  
   of some unknown substance.  These he lifts to his mouth and begins to eat,     
   and as fresh, unimaginable, horrific pain courses through you, you understand  
   that he is eating your soul.  You silently scream a plea for aid, to your      
   Sponsors, to Tiana, anyone --- and it seems that your plea is heard and        
   answered, for you promptly die, though not without suffering some spiritual    
   effects from the damage the Demon was able to inflict before you were          
   spirited away.                                                                 
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 156
   You find yourself on the Elemental Plane of Earth.  You are almost crushed by  
   the sudden rush of rock and soil, but just as quickly Loam clears an open      
   space where you can move about and breathe.  He dances about in obvious joy    
   at being brought home, and continually hugs and kisses you in his joy.         
   Finally, he tells you that he is grateful and always will be, and that you     
   are welcome to return to the Earth Plane whenever you wish, for he will be     
   your joyful host.  And with that he dives into the floor and is gone.          
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 157
   You enter the sink hole and are immediately dragged under by a powerful        
   current of soil and earth.  You close your eyes and mouth against the rush of  
   dirt, but are so disoriented by your tumbling passage that you have no idea    
   which way to try to dig in order to escape.  The need to breathe mounts and    
   mounts, while at the same time the pressure on your body of the earth and      
   rocks around you is becoming unbearable.  In a small blessing, you pass out    
   before you can discover whether you are going to die from suffocation or       
   crushing.                                                                      
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 158
   The earth around you, crawling and creeping in an almost sentient fashion,     
   leaves air pockets for your mouth and nose, so that you may breathe.           
                                                                                  
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 159
   The cannibal examines your jewelry, gnawing on it speculatively, and then      
   hands it all back to you, apparently uninterested.                             
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 160
   You approach the east archway, when suddenly a voice booms out, saying:        
                                                                                  
                There is one who Sleeps within a Stone,                           
                Yet seeks a frame of Flesh and Bone.                              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 161
                There is one whose Eyes ne'er closed on Light                     
                In his plans a Sword burned Bright.                               
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 162
                There is one who seeks to pass a Wall                             
                Which is Nothing thick and Nothing tall.                          
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 163
   There is no reply, but the sparking lights within the passageway suddenly      
   flare up and fill the Demon's chamber with bolts of electricity.  You are      
   riddled by sparks and shocks, and take a goodly amount of damage.              
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 164
   With that, the streaky light barrier on the east archway fizzles, sparks, and  
   then fades away entirely.  You hurry through, before the ward can reform       
   itself.                                                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 165
   Jeff:  "I'm sorry Tark, but for complicated reasons, I'm unable to $VERB$ on   
   the Astral Plane, at least at present."                                        
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 166
   You can't attempt to summon the Demon of Dark Delights unless you know his     
   name, and there's no way you could have, so far.  Lucky guesses (and           
   experience in prior, similar dreams) does not count.                           
END_MESSAGE

MESSAGE 167
   Meta-comment: Sorry, $NAME$ can't do what you're suggesting.                   
                                                           Regrets,               
                                                           The DM                 
END_MESSAGE

