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Search (78) Valcon Glassworks.
Valcon Glassworks. Where Uru ̶͔͍̞̞͚̂ͬ̀͢ͅw̷̸͓̪͓̬̠͉̭ͫ̑̀͛ͨ̑ͥ̇o̸̡̡͕̮̝̼̭͌ͪ͋ͅŗ̣̽͊̏ͨ̾ ͖̦̩͎͙̩k͓̮̑̋͊͒̓̾̽̔͗e̵͖̦͎̙̞͊ͩ͐ͬͭ̊͛̎͡͝d̘̮̤̟̂̈́͒̈́͗͗ ͓͖̠̲ before he was taken. Taken in by the Stalke̵͖̦͎̙̞͊ͩ͐ͬͭ̊͛̎͡͝rs, destroyed by their claws and spine̵͖̦͎̙̞͊ͩ͐ͬͭ̊͛̎͡͝s and weapons and tools and had his mind ravaged. It is a sad thought, that once he was fre̵͖̦͎̙̞͊ͩ͐ͬͭ̊͛̎͡͝e and now he is a prisoner.

He should always u̝͓̦̎̇̇̌̄̇ͤl͊̽ͫ̏̾d͑̈̉̈͛ ̹̲͇̰̭̾ͦ͒̇ͅa̠̗̪̙ͬ̈́̄ͅl͍͈̪̼̦̠̗̾̔̈́w͚̮̝̺̤a̱̝̣͇ͯ͛ͥ̍̊y̦s̃ ͕̱͒̋͋̽ ̫̣͙ͬh̖ͬa͔̱̬̥̜̩̼̓ͨṿ̝̽̆͊e͓͛͗̿ͦ̈ ͍̭̦̩̦͉̑bͥe̪͍̳ͮ̐̎ė͍̯̰̫̺̳̩ͥͯ̊ň̞̞̦ͫ̎ ̤͉͙̓̓̒ͥͣ͗͑ǎ̺̞͑͊͆̒̆͒ ̩̖̫̳̹͒̈́p̲ͤ̓͊̒̋̄ͦr͈̳̙͊̌̔ỉ̩s̘͎̪̝͙̈́͌ō̦͉̯͍̪̱ͩ̉͋n̈͆ͭ̚ ̒ĕ̟̘͈̅̍̈̈́͆r̿͑.̞̣̍̐͂ͮ̇ͮ̈
͍͚̪͓͇͋̊ͨ̒
̟̜̬͆̍ͦ̂̚ͅA̗̋̾r͔̳͙̞͑ḙ̭̯̰̈́ͫͤͩ ͍̮̆ͩ̎ͭ̐ͫyͭ̌͛̔͌̊̇o̗ͤͧ͌ͦͩ͛ͪu̮̘ͭ ͍͙̥̝͎̾̔ͭ̏̓ͮa̜̥͋̀͒͗͑ ̩̭̝̌p͕̠̫̼̘̝̰̿́ͧͨ̀̂r͊̏ͥͦi̖̬͗̃ͬs͉͉ͥ̂̅̐̄o̠̹̗̲ͪͪ̑̓n̒ͥͬ ͮ̐̐e̳̣͈̟̓r̜̾̌̈ͯ?͍̟͎ ̬̠D̙͗ͣ̑͆ͤͧo̻̤ͩ͊e̟̤̩͈̬͂͌s͚̉ͦͥ̄ͣͣ ̬̖̳͍̫͋ͤ̏̊̂ͅÿ̥̜̞̺̩̹̮́͑ͮ͛͊̑o̐͆̊u͓̭̩̺̽̔́̔ͯͯͩr͕̜̂͊ ̼̝͇ ̗͓̘̤̜̫m̬̦͖̟̝̻͕͛̑ͩind ͇̻͓͎̇͂ͫ̆́f̗̰͈̂̈́̾̎̏e͖ĕ̮͎̬̉͋ͪ̈́̅ͨl͙̊ͩ̉ ͙̭̯̘ͦͦ͛fͪͥ̓̊̄r̲̠̖̜ͥͅe͍e͗̀ͪ?͉̫͎̱̺̑ͮͣ ͕̹͔̪̾̈́̏͆D͙͚̅ọ͖̙̩́̋ͤͪ̒̿̚ ̮͈͙̇̽ͬͪ̆̀̚y̭̿̋̐́o͖̭̩̥̞̱ȕ͍̦͈̪͕͒ͪ͗͛͑͐ ̘̥̫̯͔͎ͬ̿ͯ͂̚suffe̺͑͐̃ͤ͛̊r̝̭͐̈́̏̔̉͂ ̣͍̭͉̞̳ḭͧ͆͛͐n̠̱̭̣̞̦̏ͨ̀̂ͩ̚ ̗͉ͯ̑̈̀ͤ̔ͤy͍͍͍̺͕ͨ̋ͅo̹̜̣̝̜ͬ̔̇̃̿u̘̖͖̪̺̔̽̆͐ͅr͂ͣ̐͊̌ ͓͌̚ ̥̈̄ͤ͋̓o̭̯͇̤̟̩ͬ͆̍̓w̯̦̳̰̘ͅn̦̥̖͇̹͙͆̇̆̓ ̹̝̰̭̬͇̀̈͌̈́̑h͚̝̙̜a̠̠̓ͬ̄ͨn̗̍d̹̠͕̜͕̉̔ș̼̞̣́̇̑͗̀̄ͧ?̿̎̚ ͉͋ ̺̣̮͎̎ͯ̓ͦ̋̅H̲̰̯̣̬͛ͧ̿́͛̈͋oͫ͐̓o̝̲͎͉̹̮̒f̲̪̜͔͎͎̬̎ͨs̱ͦͅ? ̞͖̝ͣ̃͂ͅ ͉̤͍̺̣̩̒̀̾T̓ͥ̆̏ͨ̊̒a̲ͪ́̆̚l͚͖̞̪̀̈ͭ̈́͒͗͒o̲͙͑̓͂n͌̽ͣͣ̒sͯ̈ ̣̟͈?̘͇͙̻̠̇̌ͮͩͦͅ ̝̮̱͓̥̦Fins̾ͯ̉͂̎̏?̮̖͕̲͈ ̼͎̘͍̯͒̀͐O͙̦ͬͨ́r̦̗̮͉̾̈́̀ ͕ͯ̃a͇͎̞͛r̘e̍̀̾ͣ ͚̠y̭̤̻̖̲͓ͮ̓̐̅ö̤̉̿ű̝̝̹͙͈̰͍̽͆̿͂͒ͪ ̤f̬̤̬̲̖͎̙̉͛̚r͕͙ͫ͊ͣͨ͆͐e̬̯̝̩̳͈͎̔͆͒ͤ̐e̅̓̑ ͭ̔͊͋́̿t̠̰͗ǒ̉̐ express ̤̠̜͈̊ͧ̇y͇͎̮̞ͪ̀o̝̮͓̰̮̮͒ͬ̓u̼̯̰̯̭͈̳ṟ̮̟͈̆̎̅͑̑s̯̯͉͍̰̘͔ e̤̒̑l͎͎̘̘̊̓̅͑f̺̙̯ͭ́̏ ͚̙̟̜̭̅̃l̝͉͙̳̦̪͍͑́̓ͨ͒ͧỉ̹͍͈̝k̻̥e̩̬̝̼̜̾ͥ́͋ ͙̦̰ͅa̠̪͍̳̐ͅ ͕͍̗̬͐̍̎̔̎ͬs͙͚͐ṁ̯̎̋ͬ̚aͩl̬̠̗̰̺͛̄̌̇̇l̀ͮ̋,͕̓̇̃̆ obedient ̿̉̌D̬̫̎ͧͤ͆̉ͩe͕̦̤̟ͥ̄̈̄ͫ̑ͮe̲̟ͤ̆̾̅̃̿r͈̦̫̱̹̮ͅl͍͍ͦ̾̉i͙͚ ͍n͍̣̳̱̣̣͚͐ͩ͑ĝ̻̞̝̥̂̎ͭ ̣̘̯͙̏̌͐̉̇̃ͨẉ̭̭̘̙̖i͕t̗̺̯̪̳͍̃ͬ̑̉͐̒̍hoṷ͖̮̠̪͂̓ť ̺͚̘̇ ̠̠̯̬̹̜̺̀̃a̹̜ͪ̎̓͑ ̦͛̄ͧ̚t̬͔̻̄͌ͬ̽h͉͇͎̩̪́̈ͯ̽o͛̈́̐u̜̪̘̼̮͖g̩̳̥̦͆ͨh̫̏̌̃̇̊͊̔ ̲̗͎̘̫tͪ ̍̋̉ͨf̺̗̺ͯ̋ͤ̐̊ỏ͎̮̠̲͓͇͑͛ṙ̠̭̩̪̹ͦ͆̇̂ ̘͎ͦ͌̌̓̿ͤt̤͗̓ͮͣ̒͊̽ͅh̖͉̗͖͇̬̙̒͐̇ͯ̄ḙ̣̭͎͔̖̎̌̆ͬ̓͊̎ ̩ͥͧͥ̈́̏c̗͚̞ͪ͒͋̆ͯḁ̩̝͇͋̊̔̓́̽͋g̮̭ͨ͗ẽ̖̜̙̗ͣ̓̑d ͕̺̮̪̖ͥ̏̇ͅl̩̓ͬͯͬ͂i̯̫͙͐̓͐̂̈̇f̬͗̔e̯͇̤̥̞͖͌̽͌ͮͦ̊ͅ?̳̈́͒͆̀ ̳͖̜ͅ ͎̑D̻̥̬̰̳̫ͫ̇̾ͦo̬̜͔͍͙ ͛̇̐́y͓̖̋͌͛̿oͣ͌ͩù̾̍̈́̇̃ͫ ͪ̓ͦ͊rebel? ̦̩̺̮͉͕̃̈̍I͎͆̍ͪs̗͕̞̰ͥ̀ ̲̘̉ͤ̍tͧ͗͋͛ͩͬ̌h͕̮͕̥̐̊i͖̰̗̒̀̍̚s͚͚ͯ̎ p̗̫̻̟̾͆̄ͩ̚l̩̖̹̜͖͖͗̊ͭͭ̉̚ac̺̩͋̒e͋ ̜̫͍̹̞̎̍͆̓r̗̟̩̭̺̝̗ͩͫ́́ͨͤ̓e͈͉͈̊ă̝̌l̲̖̪͙̫͈?̽͂ͣ͐̾ ̳͆

You touch the real place. It feel̩̓ͬͯͬ͂s real. But so does the ringing in your ears, the blurry visions probing your mind and the questionable voices telling you things. I am here. I am there. I am gone. Where am I? The Valcon Glassworks building is boring. It's not worth the looks, but around the back, ah, now that's where you want to go! Frol̩̓ͬͯͬ͂ic there, Deerling, frolic to the back end where the ̬͔͈̤̝̍ͦt̀̏w̬͍̉́i͓s͚̞̬̾t̟̥͖̘̣̚e̵̘͙̜͉̘̤ͪd̞͛ͯ́͒̓ͧ ̼͈̭ statue rests and speaks to your mind.

C̩̥̝̪̬̬̔͠o̗̻̣̜͊̈́̚m̲͙̠̻̖̹ͪ̂̍e̋͏̠̣̹.̲̣̬̤̠̯ͯ͗ͪͥ́ͨͨ ͖̹͉̥̈́̈̽ͨ̌͡C̰ͤo̧̦̲̤̹͙͍͌̀͂͂͒m̸͚̭͖̠̠͉̎̅͂̄̊e̩͔͕͂͐͒ ̣,̧̙ ̸̣̖͙͔͚́̓̊͋ͣͅD̺̯̫͌̀͛ͩ̿͛ͅe͕͚̳̺̬ͮ͋ͬ͌́͑̾er̯̽̍ͨ͌̅̂l̼̓͟i ̞̯͈̜̜̻ͪͭ̎n̸̲̙ͤg̶͈ͦ.͖̆̽͌̉̒ͧ̊ ̸̩̱͉̳͎͚͛C̩͖͇̰̟̹ͣ̅ͩ͆̔ͅỡ̘̗̥̝̳̗̇ͣ̒m̩͉͈̲͚̃ͩ͜e̅͑,́̊̿̉ ̳ ́S̯͕͕̞̣̤̔ḁ̱͒̓͂ͭ̂͊͆m̶͎͎͍͉̱̫̭.͇͚̣̰̝

You go. You do; you walk one step̦̗̪̘̌̋ ͫ̔á̝̗͖̬t̶̟͚̣̤̘̏͆̊͗̆̀ ̡͓͕̣̩̰̦ͯa̖͌ͭͦ͝ͅ ͓̆̑̃̓́̐t̻̰̞̣ͩͬ͋̉ͮͣi͔͇̥̐̒̈́͊̋ͥͦm̩̪̻̏̊ͭ̀ͥe̜͂ͣ̍͂ͦ͜ ͖̣̠͕ͦ̍ͧ̈́̑with ̵̼͔͔͛̃̀͌̽̒͑ͅḁ̛̖͔͛ͩ͌ͩ̑̊̚ͅ ͕ͯͨͦͯ͛͗c̲̯̝͆̋͒ͥli̹͑͋̿͜p̳̭̲̞̳̝̗͑̾̈̊̋͛-͑ͬͤ̿c̝͙̪̤̦͎͇ͣ̆͛ͮ̍͊͐l͖͖͇̞̲ͤͭ̽o̲̞̺̯̜̪p̧͔̟̃̈́̈̅̓ͅͅ ̣̖͇-clop, clip-clop, like the sound of rain drops hitting your head. .̠̺̣͓̩̇͑ ̩ͦ͐ͨ̉̃͆H͇̩ͪ̆̊̕i͈̠͕̺̝͇͉͋̽̒ͭ̊t̃͜,͔̊ͥͪ̃̅ͬ ͎̟̘̺̮̪̐͑ͥͤ̊̈h̰̹̩̟̜ͮͧ̀i̲̥͈̯̝ͨ̇̔̐̕t̗̞̩̬̙̣ͩ͗ͥͫ̑,̍ ͖ ̵͈̘̘̍̊ͅh̻̘̭͚̲͡i̴̘͇͈̙͋ͥ̑̒̉̑ͣt̠͈͇̮̦ over and over. Then you really are hit, and your nose starts to bleed.

A sta͖͍ͬ̐͊tuĕ͓̹̙͎͉̰̘ͫ̀̅̇ͯ̔͘, some kind of monument, a to̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍mb of sorts. Dead children, c͇̥̓̓̕͝arved and sliced and butcherë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡d bë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡cause they were wanted by someonë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡. Wanted by her. By Extol, Extol, the Stalker who owns this tomb, this place, this interesting statue which beckons memories from the depths of your mind. As a͖͍ͬ̐͊ small Deerling, you see yoursĕ͓̹̙͎͉̰̘ͫ̀̅̇ͯ̔͘lf stabbë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡d in the leg, the side, the neck. Your spinĕ͓̹̙͎͉̰̘ͫ̀̅̇ͯ̔͘ c͇̥̓̓̕͝racks, your blood swirl̩̓ͬͯͬ͂s, your eyes bulgë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡. One pops from your hĕ͓̹̙͎͉̰̘ͫ̀̅̇ͯ̔͘ad and rol̩̓ͬͯͬ͂ls away; your ear is c͇̥̓̓̕͝ut frë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡ë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡ and your ba͖͍ͬ̐͊ck left leg becomes someone's souvenir.

Your hĕ͓̹̙͎͉̰̘ͫ̀̅̇ͯ̔͘ad is m͖̜̱͖̤̂̂͋̽o̸͇̭̘͚̗̬̺ͨ̊̑̇̅͋̐ǘ̘ͨͮͣnͩͯ̓ͤ̀̍̚t̛͈͈̯̙̹͊̓̚ ͕͎ĕ͓̹̙͎͉̰̘ͫ̀̅̇ͯ̔͘d̺͔̣̳͉͛ͦͣͧ̒ ̖o̹͓̘̿̐̀̄n̶͒̋͋͂ͪͩ̂ ̗̪̅̐̓̈̊ͫ͟ͅa̶̘̫̥̺͈ ͙̠̼͔̳̫̪̾̌̔ͨ̈͝w͛ͯ̓̄̀ͩͪ͟a̺̲̗̪̩̪̞̓̿l͔̳͎͗̌ͥ͌̋͋lͤ͆̈ ͮ̃̎ A sick game of death is a massacre to you and a ho̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍bby to another. Your tears mix w̲̠͖͎̿ͥ͆i̮͚̳̞ť̎̆ͦ͊͑̎҉͎̟͔͖̗̭ḣ̪̞̹̊ bloo̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍d. Your bra͖͍ͬ̐͊in is being torn open, disregarded like the sc͇̥̓̓̕͝um you are becausë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡ you are not one of them. Werë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡ you one of them, you would be worth something. Yet you are a c͇̥̓̓̕͝rea͖͍ͬ̐͊ture of the other side, the side tha͖͍ͬ̐͊t loses, the side that isn't protected, the side that means n̲oṯ̪h͛̋ͯ͐ͣ̆i͓̦͉̜͈̪̺ͬ͑͜n̲̲̊̎̅ͨͣ̔̀g̳̣͈̤̑.̩̗͉̫͉͗ ̪̭ You mean nothing. Your world is nothing.

You remember no̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍thing.

S̭͉͍̘̘̮ͥͭ̾ṭ͎̮̗̓̍͝u̹̪̒̊̓̍̌̇̚p̯̞̯͈̤͔̑ͪ̈́̉̓̚i͇̒͑͆ͩ́̉ͣ ̹͚̹̦ͅd̙̙̙͉ ̴̲̗͛̌̃́̓S̻̘͚̳͗̊ͪ̈̓̓am h̞̹̲͍͕͔̍͢ạ̘̺͔̙̲͂s̲̮͚̼̪̒ ̛̺̓͆͂̐ͮș͓̻̼̜̐̌̌ͦu̪̩̘̟͓̭ffe̦̭̼̭͕̝̬̔͐̿ͬ̌͝ř̨̬͚ͥͧ͊ͤ̚ ̞͈̰̺ed̞͔̜͖̫̘̬͡ ͜ 2 points of damage̾̀̄̌̒ͨ to Sanity.

̦̝͕̳̣̻̄̃̇̇͛͑̑T̠̹̤ͩ́̏̆͗͠ẖ̛̪͉͗ǐ̴͚͙̥̖ͧs͔͓̋ͬ͋ͮ̚ͅ ̻͎ ̛̼ͧt͛ͬͩͤ͝o͐̎̉͑mͩ́͆̐b͉̙͍̦̻̼̳̍̊ ͉̲͋͌̍ͨ̂̄͑͡i̢͔͇͎͍̤ͪͅs͈̹̙̩͔̺̓̎̐̇ͤͦͮ ̸̦ͤͥ̓͆̎̌m̻̯͙ͪ̄̒ͨe̪̙͔̝̮̐̀̈ͤ͛ani̭̖͍̻͉̞ṇ͉͖̻̹̠͆ͮ̋́́gͥ ̝̣̙̠̲͎ͣ̊͆̂̑̀f͕̻͈ͮͯ̅̔ͦ͋u͍̓̓ͨ̎̔̚ĺ̖͚̙̯̠̋ͩ́;̤̪͉̥̝ ̖̰ ̤͖͋̂ͩ͛̅̍ͨy̟̞͕̼̼̻͈̏̿ͯͤ̓̓ͭo̲ͬͩ̎u͆̂̆̒ͪ̔͗ ̮̭̦̐͝ͅk͝ͅn̻̞̒ͥ̀̈́̇ỏw̴͍̲̰͕͔͔̣ͧ̊̋̊̎ͪ ̵͕̞̆͗̔t̯̟͇͚͉͂ͯ̊ͫ̑͠h̞̰͚͙̍ͤͦaͭ̐̔̒ͧ҉̟͉̟̘ͅt̩̹̪̖͒ͭ͊ ̫̞ ̣̋ͭ̋̃y̸̻̝̬̠̆̐ͥ̈o̠̥͐̌̃͐ͤu̐̚͠ ͯ̂̚c̫ͧ̈͊̒ͦa̤͙̠̿ņ̩̺̝̰̖ͭ̂̽ͅ ̴̫͖̃̉ͬ̐ͫ̄d̪̮̜̦̻̬o͋̓͑̽͑ͤ ̴͍͍̬̞ͧͯ͊ͣ̇̏̑s̵̗̮̹͛̆ͤo̗̼̊̽̍ͦ͆m̫͇̭̟͚͚͒͂ͬe͙̝̤ͯt̨̎ͦh̍ͤ ̤͍̰̝̽i͖̰̗͓̺ͤ̄ͫn̶͎̭͔̼͙̥̄̅͛͆̏ͪg̳̤̳͖͖̹͒̃̈́ͤͪ͌ͧ ̻̦ͩͥ͘ͅw̷͎͕ï̬̳͓ͅţ̼͈̦̲̺̯̮͗̌h͓͔̞͖̟͈̪́̈ͤ̉́ ̷͓̳͚͇̠̼̃̈́ͬ̃̈i͔̺̗͍͎̝̽̏ͧ͂̔̒͡t̮̚͢ ̜͎͇̙͙ͥ̿̚l̥͎͙̮̜͇͒͗ͬ͂ͧa̠̙̤̻͉̫̐ͣṱ͈͓̌ͣe̊̒͏̝͈r̿̔̅̃̿ͪ͒͝ ̻͔̪͈,̻͍̥̜͙͔̱̔̂ͭ ̍̽ͨͧ́ẅ̤͗̈́͜h̤̳ͨ͜e̚n̟̲̓̓̑̈̈ͥ͜ ̡̠̭̝͉̓̔y͚̰͐o̵̰̠̗̊u̮̖͕̠̩̠͗ ̛͖̥h̯̳͖ͪ̃͛a̱̤̺̖̱̫ͮͬͤ̐̇ͯ̓v̓ͤ́ͨ̃e̝̭̪̠̎ ̙̠͒͛̐ͅtͣ̓̾̈ͬ͊̚h̫e̻͇̤ͮͫͥ̏͗̚ ̥͎̜̭̹̃r͕͉̬̮͢i͕̞̠͈̿̍̾̉͛̏̑͝g͚̞̼͑ͦ̃͐͒ͦḧ͍͎̙̲̝́͋̅ͨͬͧ̋tͧ ̬̺̗̬͙̺̜ͪ̂ͨͭ implements ,͎ͧ̌͗̈́ ͣͪ̾ͮṫ̴̤̭̯̬͇͍̩̑ͮh̝e͍̓ ̻̬̣͔͉kn̹̘̬̣ͣ̈́̅̍͒ő̳͓̰͠w̵̲̪̰̺̫͇̹̓̍ͦͯled̳̺ͦ͋ͧ́̊̄͝ͅg̀ ͍e̷̩̞̪͎͙̟̫̓̈͊̒,̞̪̙̯̥̖̑ͥ͆̾ ͉̫̦͇̪͚̰ͥͣtͫ҉̥̝̲͔̺͎͈h̴͆͆ͨe̓͋͊҉̣̪̙͙͉̤ ͪ̓̐͏̙̗̪̯̞̣m͙͋͡e͡a̗͔̰n͔̤̦̘ş̰͕̝͔̲͖̝̓̅ͯ̽̈́̃ ͎̗̓̓̌tͭ͋̚ȏ̼͈̬͉̰̹͖͆͊̽͡ ̰͙̺̗̳͔̾͑ͅc̢̠̙̞̯̄̽͋͑oͬ̍̆͛͋͡m̴̪͔͖ͧ̂ͫ̏ͣͬ̈́p̵̲̥̟͂̒l̦̋ͩͬ ̘̹͓e̵͈̾̆̚ţ̗̮̫̦̹̺͖͂̈́̊e̸̗͇̗̙̹̅ ̤̲͈̖̻̪̈́̋ͥ͑a̡̩̼̺̼̅̃̔ͦ̈́̈̃ ̞͕ͦ͆̉͐̐̃ͨ̀t͈̯̙̝̘͊ͯ͑̅ͧ̌͢ask ̡ͪ̀ͧ̅y̦͖̩̥ͣou'̡̰̞ͧͯͥ̂r͈̰̤̣͗̏e̢̲̺͎̰ͅ ̼͇̒y̲̟̘̮̙͖͑̓̈̓͘e̟̝̱̬̼̰̼ͤ́t̜̍͋̍̓̌͢ ̻͢t̴̊o̬̹̲̰̔̚ǫ͚ͣ̐̉͗̑̆ ̩̗͚̗̳̻̰p̈ͬͯ͘a̺̼ͪ͛̾̆̈̃̄̕ț͂̉ͫ̀̈́h̵̺̰͚̫̖e̜̙̖̬̼̰ͦ̇̋͒ͨ͞ t̬̟͍͒̒̆̉̚i̢̻̟̰͕̘̝̦̿̍̊̿͗c̭͎̠ ̲̜̎ṭ̛̜̗͚̹̮͙ͤͣͭo̸̖̜͑ ̢̹̉ͨ̈̏͑ḏ̞͂̽ͭ̒̎̅͡o̬̦̬ͣ͌ͦ̑̐̎͐ ̒ͩ͏ȁ̞̗̓̾̄͊nyt̞͕̹̦ͣ̇̍̄͑͘ẖ͉͑̆̍i̱͓̠͍͇n̨͖̿̉ͪͩͫg͓ ͕̦̹ ̘̻͚͔͙̼f̤̪̘͒̄ͥ͢oͯͫ̔͝r̍ͫ̐̒͢.̣̌̄ͭ̈́ͤͯ̑ ͖̙ͨͪͫWhy ͈̈̂̃͊̉d̘ͮͥ͂̓ͮ͊̓̕ŏ̠ͫ̐͊e̤̟̫͂͒͘ͅs̡̼͕̭͎̙̳̎͗ͨ͗ͦ̽̍ ̥͇͉̬̞̱̂̈͆͛̽̚i͇͚̠̲͓̭͝ͅt̛͇̝̊̆͐ͩ͆̓̑ ͔̻h̡̟͙ͫͯ̇a̓ͧͦ̀͝v̗̱̰ͩ͊ͦ́̚e̹̳͖̱ͮ̊͊ͫ̄́ ̙̣̞͍͉͌t̸̟͕͕̺ͯ͛ͩͩo̭̦̬͑̈́̑̓͘ ̦͉͔̘̪̗̕b̭̽̂̆ͥ̈e̱̳̰͔ͩ̔͗͗̓ ̫̭ͮ̎͆̾̇̅t̉̽ͧͯ̉ͤͩ͏h̩̩̖̩ͯ̆̽í̥͔̰́s̞̟̞̠̉̋ͪͣ͆͘ ̳ͬ̈́̀̈́w̰̦̲͖̰͈͙̓̌a̪͞y̮̱̪̫͗̀̊̋͗ͭ̚?̦̭̬̦͍͔̬̿ͦ͞ ̶̔C͂̓͑ͥ̇ͨͪ͡á͖̆ͥ̄͆̈̑ń̬͑̍͘'̺͎͉͔̣͋̔͊̌̂̽t̂ͣ̀̈́̄ͪ̑ ̮̰̗͙ ̸̝͈̠͇̫̯ͫ̈̚y͔̬̥̱̪̻͙͑̀͂ͮ͌̍̃o̠͙͚̮̫̼̽͒̆͞ų͖̪̰̟̘͛ͩͩ ̬̖ ̣̟̮̜̱̼̹̑̀̾̔j̥̰̹̪̘̮͒̂̽ͣ̒̕u̷̓ͨs̻̻̄̏͒̊ͮ͆͜t̵̺̻͓̜͔ͮͭ̓̾ͯ ͅ win when you ̜̣̻͋w̏͒ͭ҉̹̹͖͓ͅa͉͞n̰̮̼͍͑ṫ̸̤̻̠̳̒?̨͚̯̯̏͗ ̳͖̣̘̃͐That's not how ̨̟̣̹t͒͑͛̊̆͏̞̣͙͕͕̝h̢͇͓̩͓̔̔ͤ͆ͫͪ͌e͇̩̰̅͌ ̠̘̜̞͋̂̌̽̿̏̎͢w͕͍̞̫͖̟̉̀͠ó͉̇̇ṛͣ̊̊ͦ̎͋̂ĺ̹̘̙̞̝̈́̓̍ͣ͑ͤd ͩ̋̔̍͝ works, deary. Your mind can't produce anything you want. You have to work for it.

̺̰̠̙̺ͧͣͨ̈́̉ͥ͠L̰̲̰͔̬̦̟̠͗̃͗͊ͤͭ̔̚ikͩͨ͛̈́̉̄̊ͣ͏͈͖̬̭͓̙͇ͅeͦ ̴̦͖̙̙̩̫ͮͣ̓̉ ̤͑ͧ͡how̋͌͑̎̌҉̨̝͔̥͇̯ ̠̜͎̖͚͖̰ͯ͒ͬ͠ͅţ̸̘͖̙̜̖ͪͦͅḥ̶́͂̓̇͒͑̽̚e̮̥̮̲̽͂̃̓ͧ͂̃ý̂͛ ̴̭̰͖̩̲̥ͪ͛͐̋̄ ̧̞̻̰̓͗ͫͦ͗̕w͗͂́̊͒ͧ҉̦͎̣͕̜̲̙̣orkêͬ̈́̾̃҉҉̤̝͈͖̗͙̞d̡͛ͩ̎̇ ̠̝̲̱̣̀ ̡̛̞̳ͩ̓ͣ̽͂ͪt͒͗ͧ͆͏̣̱̪ő́̑͆̓҉̡͏̰̜̬ ̧̯͔̰̗̌ͤ̏ͅm͕̥̰̭̭͐̊a͕̻͉̻̬̖̠̞͛̔i̱̱̹̜̿͐̊́̀̾͌͠m̡̛͇͚͖̤̈́̄ ̲̙̟͙ ̛̥̮̥̱̖̔̓̒ͥy͎̳͈͉̝͍̩̍̒ͣo̢̤̿͗̊̍͘u̴̺̖͕͑̓ͬͫ͛̊̈

Object {Butchered Foetus Tomb: Mourning Book, Ballad Book, Cursed Book} was added to the Team Rec͇̥̓̓̕͝ords.

r̸̸̢̝̱̰͇̹̲̳̤̉̉ͯ́̋̔ę͍̦͈̖̬̳́̓͂ͯ̑͗ͦͪ̑s̥̙͓̥̥ͨͮͪ͜ͅt , r̻̩̜̞̳̯͙̭ͣ̿́ë̢̛̫̻͓͔́͂̓̓ͧ́ͅt̆̍̂͛ͫͨ́͏̷̧̦͖̩r̫̯͈̣͗̽͐̒͡ ̗e̮̼̊͝a̯̳̺̓̅ͮ͋͘͞ṭ̪̮̉ͤ͟,̴͍̗͚̓̈́͗̈̾ͫ̈ ̭̣͈̤̫͕̈́̎ͮ͋̀̀e̛͙̗̒̑́͑ͨͧͩs̓̿̊̈̿̆҉̱̗̼ca̶ͫͤ͋̍̉͗̏͌͏̤̯̘̳ ̞p͈̪̼̲̱̏́̽̒ͤ̐͜͝e̫̪̳̣̲̼̗̼̍͆̍ͩ̀ͅ

Get out, go̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍ home, leave and sto̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍p feel̩̓ͬͯͬ͂ing this i̧̫̦̲̤͇̓̾͑̓n̳ͧ̀ṡ̛̮̗͈̇̇a͍͎̬̣̠̘ͅṅ̨̇̔ͥ̂ȋ̸̬̼̳͈̹̲̻tͥ ̹̹ͯͦ̋͛y̦̟̦̣ͬ.̥̯̫̞̣̦͓́ͦ ̺̔͑̈́Y̟͖̕ͅo̙̣̭ͬ͗͑̀́u̥̒̾̒ͯ̾͑̈ have to rest.̝̂ ̘̻̖̞ͦ̓̌̌̓̊̈Ẏ҉̦͚̹͓͇̲o̡̠̫̠̩̥̾̂ͧ̔͐̑̍u͍̘͈̭̤ͧͩ̆́ ̦̤̲͊̂͑̚h͔͎̾ǎ̲̫̼̳͓ͨͭ͂ͪ̍͠v͈͔̖͖̲͈̩͌̔͛̅ͭ͆ë̓̄̇ͣͫ͡ t̟̏̑́õ̴͙̃̈́͗̾ͣ go.̩̝̿ͥͮͦ̂ͥ́ͅ ̳̯͜T͔͚̻ͧͧ͌ͪͪ̅͑h͋͆͌ͤ͠ėr̍̓̂͑́ͅe̵̗͉̼̥̭̲̞͑̿̈͛̇͐̇ ̟͖̙͙̣̿̾̐͗͟i̯̓ͯ͂͛ͣ̀s̼̺̗̭̬͈̘̒ͨ͑ ̣̤̱̘͔̘͆͐͛ͯ̀͑n̵̩̞͍͈̜̻o̷͌̒͑͂̃̾t͗͊ͅh̭̘̟͚̻̫̾̅̌i͎̩͖͉̱̔̆ ͇͙ng͖͍̥͇̱̺̬̀ͦ more .̵̬̗̭̫̗ͩ͋̿͐͒ ̵͌͂ͣT̻̠̗̃̀h̓̑̐ͧ̅͏e̮̺͍̹̟͠r̸̻̩͔̎e̛͙͒̊ͧ͋̎͒ is̱̜͇̝͉̤̱ͩͫ ̮̘̺̹̮̠͆̉̀ọ̴̪̺͗nͤ̓͡l̘̔͆̋͌y̲̙̜̞̠͒̈́͝ p̱̿̂ͧ̇̀̂a͖͍ͬ̐͊ị̰̻͉ͨ̈́n͕͍̠ ̘͎͕͒̈́ͯͯ͊͋̑o̸̗̱͓͔f̲͓̂̾ ̣̩̭̠̠̈́ͨͤ̓̓͆̆ṫ̢͈̺ͤ̒h̰̳̰͓̹͗ͣ̏̉̇ͯe̼̳̺̣̋͌ ̶͔͙ͯͤ̍M̺̭̝̫̪͂Ḭ̣ͣN̖͔̟̋̍͌͌̚͝Ď̻̂ͥ


Sam the Deerling (S: Normal/Grass)
Health: 3/4
Sanity: 1/4
Perk: Repair | Learned Abilities: Rescue/Escape
Failed Assassinations: 0/2