text: Black on black, stretching ad infinitum and speckled with silvery dots and white veins, like nebulae in the night sky. Without a sound, the door behind the group sealed, seamlessly, and the illusion was complete. Every person seemed to float in a void, dancing between the stars with rippled silhouettes of themselves.
  
  Just when the echo began to seem daunting, when the dark infinity first became disconcerting, the illusion was shattered. By mechanics most advanced, marbled panes were lowered, first revealing the true walls, and then exposing the gallery that lay between. Figures still and silent as a lake on a windless day. Each was dappled with fantastical hues of paint, and draped in cloth that played off of the colors that stained their flesh.
  
  Five figures comprised the right, and six comprised the left. Of the elven none save one seemed human. The rest were made out to be fanciful creatures, inhuman figures from mythology and folklore alike.
  
  On the left, a monstrously striking siren, a horned man that stood tall as any man to be seen, a hideous harpy, twisted to the limits of mortal mein, a serpentine figure, devoid of gender whose scales caught what little light there seemed to be. And for the final twp, a lightly furred wolf, with sunken rib cage and elongated limbs, and a harlequin jester.
  
  On the right, one of the merfolk, whose Piscean flesh glistened with beads of water upon cool-hued scales, a mighty and powerful woman with cloven feet, whose frame was decorated with bone, and a wyvern. For the final three, a man split down the center, with the face of another, and a forest troll wrapped in branches and living wood.
  
  > approach the Yuan-Ti.
  The paint upon the serpent's skin is truly a master piece. The eyes are rimmed with white, and every scale is painted and highlighted, with shadow falling between each. The mouth has been stretched wide, and the lips reduced and framed to form a reptilian maw. Unlike many of the exhibits, not a single hair rests upon the individual's head.
  
  The body of the serpent is equally detailed, with the acid green scales gradienting down into an emerald green, and then finally a midnight blue. The arms sloped down into webbed hands, smooth and close to the side due to the membrane that stretches from wrist to waist, filling the arm space between. The underbelly of the creature is a cream color, and the legs are fused into one contiguous piece of scaled fabric that tapers into a long tail.
  
  Black on black, stretching ad infinitum and speckled with silvery dots and white veins, like nebulae in the night sky. Without a sound, the door behind the group sealed, seamlessly, and the illusion was complete. Every person seemed to float in a void, dancing between the stars with rippled silhouettes of themselves.
  
  Just when the echo began to seem daunting, when the dark infinity first became disconcerting, the illusion was shattered. By mechanics most advanced, marbled panes were lowered, first revealing the true walls, and then exposing the gallery that lay between. Figures still and silent as a lake on a windless day. Each was dappled with fantastical hues of paint, and draped in cloth that played off of the colors that stained their flesh.
  
  Five figures comprised the right, and six comprised the left. Of the elven none save one seemed human. The rest were made out to be fanciful creatures, inhuman figures from mythology and folklore alike.
  
  On the left, a monstrously striking siren, a horned man that stood tall as any man to be seen, a hideous harpy, twisted to the limits of mortal mein, a serpentine figure, devoid of gender whose scales caught what little light there seemed to be. And for the final twp, a lightly furred wolf, with sunken rib cage and elongated limbs, and a harlequin jester.
  
  On the right, one of the merfolk, whose Piscean flesh glistened with beads of water upon cool-hued scales, a mighty and powerful woman with cloven feet, whose frame was decorated with bone, and a wyvern. For the final three, a man split down the center, with the face of another, and a forest troll wrapped in branches and living wood.
  
  > approach the Wyvern.
  There can be no denying the impressiveness of the Wyvern. Of all of the fantastical beasts made for the gallery, the scale of the wyvern is the largest, though it is not so tall as the horned man. Its body is stooped over upon its massive wings. The arms of the man have been stretched out through clay and illusion to one and a half times their length, the end of them forming a jointed elbow with a small hand. The limb-wing continues on, fanning out to drape over the pedestal upon which the figure stands before finally meeting the floor. The membrane of the wing is equally impressive, a light golden pastel, veined with warm reds, purple and greens, and shaded to look alive. The bright color pops against the rusty red carapace of the creature, which was likely carved from clay to add onto the frame of the model.
  
  But the wings and the flesh of the beast are not the only things contributing to it. Its spine protrudes upward in bony extensions, the same sharpened joints being found upon the beasts elbows and the ankles of its digitigrade legs. And its maw is a regular marvel of architecture, extending well beyond the model's face in a mask crafted of the same material as the rough, dark carapace. Its face is a mixture between a bird of prey and a reptile, and tapers off above the brow into curved horns similar to that of an impala.
  
  Black on black, stretching ad infinitum and speckled with silvery dots and white veins, like nebulae in the night sky. Without a sound, the door behind the group sealed, seamlessly, and the illusion was complete. Every person seemed to float in a void, dancing between the stars with rippled silhouettes of themselves.
  
  Just when the echo began to seem daunting, when the dark infinity first became disconcerting, the illusion was shattered. By mechanics most advanced, marbled panes were lowered, first revealing the true walls, and then exposing the gallery that lay between. Figures still and silent as a lake on a windless day. Each was dappled with fantastical hues of paint, and draped in cloth that played off of the colors that stained their flesh.
  
  Five figures comprised the right, and six comprised the left. Of the elven none save one seemed human. The rest were made out to be fanciful creatures, inhuman figures from mythology and folklore alike.
  
  On the left, a monstrously striking siren, a horned man that stood tall as any man to be seen, a hideous harpy, twisted to the limits of mortal mein, a serpentine figure, devoid of gender whose scales caught what little light there seemed to be. And for the final twp, a lightly furred wolf, with sunken rib cage and elongated limbs, and a harlequin jester.
  
  On the right, one of the merfolk, whose Piscean flesh glistened with beads of water upon cool-hued scales, a mighty and powerful woman with cloven feet, whose frame was decorated with bone, and a wyvern. For the final three, a man split down the center, with the face of another, and a forest troll wrapped in branches and living wood.
  
  > approach the Wolf Man.
  The wolf man is nothing short of grotesque. Like the wyvern, the face is covered with an elaborate mask, which extends out far from the profile to form a lupine maw. The face is more wolf than man, but sunken in, as if emaciated. Teeth poke out of a sneering lip, revealing elongated canines stained yellow. The whole of the back of the head is furred in black, to offset the brownish-black hue of the naked bits of flesh upon the mask and body.
  
  The body of the beast is less furred than the head, but the fur of the man travels down the back to the tailbone in a svelte, shiny coat. The chest of the beast is virtually nude, with only wisps of jet-black hair decorating the skin. His torso is elongated, and his chest sunken and hollow. Tattered cloth frames the top of his legs and lower portion of his torso, with fur and bony protrusions poking through the rips in the cloth. Like many of the made-up monsters in the gallery, the wolf man's arms taper down into hands ending with claws. Showing a true appreciation to detail, dirt clogs the underside of the slightly dulled claws. The legs of the beast are perhaps the most fascinating portion of all, as they follow the shape of a wolf in digitigrade legs. How the artist managed such a feat is difficult to say, but impressive all the same.
  
  Black on black, stretching ad infinitum and speckled with silvery dots and white veins, like nebulae in the night sky. Without a sound, the door behind the group sealed, seamlessly, and the illusion was complete. Every person seemed to float in a void, dancing between the stars with rippled silhouettes of themselves.
  
  Just when the echo began to seem daunting, when the dark infinity first became disconcerting, the illusion was shattered. By mechanics most advanced, marbled panes were lowered, first revealing the true walls, and then exposing the gallery that lay between. Figures still and silent as a lake on a windless day. Each was dappled with fantastical hues of paint, and draped in cloth that played off of the colors that stained their flesh.
  
  Five figures comprised the right, and six comprised the left. Of the elven none save one seemed human. The rest were made out to be fanciful creatures, inhuman figures from mythology and folklore alike.
  
  On the left, a monstrously striking siren, a horned man that stood tall as any man to be seen, a hideous harpy, twisted to the limits of mortal mein, a serpentine figure, devoid of gender whose scales caught what little light there seemed to be. And for the final twp, a lightly furred wolf, with sunken rib cage and elongated limbs, and a harlequin jester.
  
  On the right, one of the merfolk, whose Piscean flesh glistened with beads of water upon cool-hued scales, a mighty and powerful woman with cloven feet, whose frame was decorated with bone, and a wyvern. For the final three, a man split down the center, with the face of another, and a forest troll wrapped in branches and living wood.
  
  > approach the Skinchanger.
  The man split down the center is a visual dichotomy. One side is powdered and pale, and the other a rich mahogany color, weathered and aged. The split is not entirely even across the body, and where the line of division occurs, there is a warp, tissue stretched taut and extra sinew, as though the two were pulling apart from one another. Upon closer look, the mahogany complexion is succumbing to the paler complexion, as though the darker one were wearing the lighter as a skin of sorts. The darker half appears human, save for his flashing amber eyes. The lighter half looks distressed, and makeup plays a keen part in differentiating the features of both.
  
  Unlike the others in the gallery, the twins are not fancifully dressed, and instead seem to be dressed in attire similar to the masquerade. A tailed, double-breasted jacket, with long trousers held in place by suspenders, and shiny leather shoes.
  
  Black on black, stretching ad infinitum and speckled with silvery dots and white veins, like nebulae in the night sky. Without a sound, the door behind the group sealed, seamlessly, and the illusion was complete. Every person seemed to float in a void, dancing between the stars with rippled silhouettes of themselves.
  
  Just when the echo began to seem daunting, when the dark infinity first became disconcerting, the illusion was shattered. By mechanics most advanced, marbled panes were lowered, first revealing the true walls, and then exposing the gallery that lay between. Figures still and silent as a lake on a windless day. Each was dappled with fantastical hues of paint, and draped in cloth that played off of the colors that stained their flesh.
  
  Five figures comprised the right, and six comprised the left. Of the elven none save one seemed human. The rest were made out to be fanciful creatures, inhuman figures from mythology and folklore alike.
  
  On the left, a monstrously striking siren, a horned man that stood tall as any man to be seen, a hideous harpy, twisted to the limits of mortal mein, a serpentine figure, devoid of gender whose scales caught what little light there seemed to be. And for the final twp, a lightly furred wolf, with sunken rib cage and elongated limbs, and a harlequin jester.
  
  On the right, one of the merfolk, whose Piscean flesh glistened with beads of water upon cool-hued scales, a mighty and powerful woman with cloven feet, whose frame was decorated with bone, and a wyvern. For the final three, a man split down the center, with the face of another, and a forest troll wrapped in branches and living wood.
  
  > approach the Forest Troll.
  The forest troll is a figure of femininity, through and through. Her frame is squat, and rotund, sporting soft limbs and the proportions of an early fertility goddess. Her stomach is swollen heavy with child, and unlike many figures in the gallery, she seems contented. Though her expression and proportions are very earthly and maternal, the rest of her is far from it.
  
  Tusks of tree branch protrude from her mouth, which has bee-stung lips. Her eyes are doe-like, but rimmed with black speckles that are more widely dispersed throughout her face. Her whole face, and the bulk of her body alternates between light grey, like a birch tree, to warm, leaf green and rich brown. The hair that falls from her head and down to her waist is a mixture of twigs, moss, ivy, flowers and leaves.
  
  The texture of her skin is at the highest caliber upon her neck, shoulders and arms, where the colors blend and crack. Yet they never stray too far from human, even while forming flowing sigils of coloration. Vines encircle her arms, forming jewelry and accenting the loose, flowing garment she wears as a dress. The garment is light, but dingy at the edges from soil and stains of grass. It falls to her knees with a tattered seam, and her feet are bare, save for the bark wrapped about her ankles, which is held in place by still more ivy.
  
  Black on black, stretching ad infinitum and speckled with silvery dots and white veins, like nebulae in the night sky. Without a sound, the door behind the group sealed, seamlessly, and the illusion was complete. Every person seemed to float in a void, dancing between the stars with rippled silhouettes of themselves.
  
  Just when the echo began to seem daunting, when the dark infinity first became disconcerting, the illusion was shattered. By mechanics most advanced, marbled panes were lowered, first revealing the true walls, and then exposing the gallery that lay between. Figures still and silent as a lake on a windless day. Each was dappled with fantastical hues of paint, and draped in cloth that played off of the colors that stained their flesh.
  
  Five figures comprised the right, and six comprised the left. Of the elven none save one seemed human. The rest were made out to be fanciful creatures, inhuman figures from mythology and folklore alike.
  
  On the left, a monstrously striking siren, a horned man that stood tall as any man to be seen, a hideous harpy, twisted to the limits of mortal mein, a serpentine figure, devoid of gender whose scales caught what little light there seemed to be. And for the final twp, a lightly furred wolf, with sunken rib cage and elongated limbs, and a harlequin jester.
  
  On the right, one of the merfolk, whose Piscean flesh glistened with beads of water upon cool-hued scales, a mighty and powerful woman with cloven feet, whose frame was decorated with bone, and a wyvern. For the final three, a man split down the center, with the face of another, and a forest troll wrapped in branches and living wood.
  
  > approach the Harlequin Jester.
  Unlike all of the beasts in the gallery, the harlequin jester is human, and only human. Her face is painted a bone white, with red framed eyes, ruby lips, a red painted nose, and rosy cheeks. Her mouth is folded back in a broad and deep smile that is so large that it almost looks painful. The top of her head is covered in the classic harlequin hat, split down the center to form opposing sides of purple and black, with the points ending in bells.
  
  Her outfit is appropriately archaic, harkening back to an age of courts and fools. Her outfit is both a dress and a tunic, with a ruffled skirt, sleeves and collar. Like her headdress, the tunic, tunic's sleeves, pants and pointed shoes alternate from black to purple, with white balls of fluff forming buttons along the dividing line. Draped over one shoulder, cutting across her chest and hanging at her hip is a simple satchel.[Themes: edutainment]
  
  You are William Kidd
  
  You live in Manhattan, New York in an expensive 2 story house. You, your wife Sarah, and your two kids, go to church every Sunday. You value your morals and integrity higher than anything else. You are extremely well spoken of in your New York town as well as in England and are one of the richest men in the 13 American colonies. While you love and cherish the life you've made in New York, the sea calls to you. You're passionate about sailing and want to get out on the water as the captain of your own ship and crew. An Anglo-French war is approaching and England is heavily marketing for sailors to become privateers, armed sailors who are hired by the government to attack enemy ships and steal from them as payment. You ask your friend, the Earl of Bellomont, who is the governor of New York, to sponsor you and assist you in getting a privateering contract from the king of England.
  
  [Author's Note: Captain Kidd is one of the most notorious pirates in history. But why? He was extremely wealthy, well spoken of, very religious, and very centered on his morals. With the help of his friend, the Earl of Bellomont, he was hired by the king of England to attack French ships and pirate ships. When they couldn't find anything, his crew mutinied and seized an Armenian ship. He was blamed for the mutiny and rumors spread around England and it's colonies about how Kidd had gone sour. He was tried and hanged for his crimes of piracy. Can you avoid the same fate that Kidd found if you were in his shoes? Or will you end up dipped in tar and hung over the river Thames?]
  
  > get the contract
  You get the contract from the king of England and set sail! He hires you to sail around the Indian Ocean, protecting the colony of India from French battleships. You are also free to attack pirates, but no other ships. On your way out of harbor, you spot a Naval vessel on its way out to sea, as well.
  
  What do you do?
  
  > salute the Vessel!
  You salute the vessel! You probably made the right choice! Failing to salute a naval vessel can result in some of your crew being seized into Naval service. Then you may be forced to hire new men on short notice, who could be pirates. You're not sure how much difference that would make, though. The men you hired in the first place don't look so honorable, either. The payment for privateering is whatever you steal from the French ships and pirate ships you attack, so if you don't find anything, they could make no money. Not many people wanted this job because it was so risky, so you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel for crew members. Hopefully you won't have trouble keeping them under control during your voyage!
  
  > The Indian Ocean
  You reach the Indian Ocean and sail around looking for French ships or pirate ships to attack. If you don't find any ships, you won't get paid, because your payment is whatever you ransack from the ships you find. Your crew begins to get restless. You haven't had luck finding ships, and so you may not get paid. You begin to hear rumors around your ship of a mutiny...
  
  You finally find a ship sailing under French colors! You and your crew attack, finally boarding the ship only to find out that the captain is Armenian and that they are only sailing under French protection. This ship is not within your duty to attack, so if you carry on, you will be breaking your contract and this will be considered an act of piracy.
  
  What do you do?
  
  > attack the Armenian ship!
  You continue to attack! They were sailing under French protection, so it could be argued that the ship was French, despite their Armenian captain. You could argue this if anyone tries to dispute your decision. You also have many friends in positions of power, like the Earl of Bellomont. Even the king speaks highly of you! Your crew is also happy that they will actually get paid.
  
  > look for more ships
  After the Armenian ship, very much time passes before seeing another. You have no luck finding any ships. You want to avoid repeating the incident with the Armenian ship to avoid being labeled a pirate, so you don't attack any more ships you're not supposed to. You see a Dutch ship on the distance, but refuse to attack it. This angers your gunner, a man named William Moore. He was in this for the money, and wants more than one ships worth.
  
  You hear talk of a mutiny about to happen, led by Moore. He starts up a fight with you. He yells, calling you a lousy dog (quite the insult in your days), and you get extremely angry.
  
  > grab a bucket and hit him in the head!
  You are so angry at him that you hit him in the head with a bucket over and over. He dies from his injuries. The rest of the crew is compliant for the rest of the voyage.
  
  > continue Looking
  Your crew has put you through much hardship at this point, but at least you have some goods from the ship you attacked, so you head to Madagascar to take a break and trade your goods and allow your crew to trade their share of the goods as well. While in Madagascar, you find out that you were declared a pirate, your worst nightmare
  
  What do you do
  
  > head to Boston to clear your name
  You gather your crew and head to Boston, MA to clear your name. You stop at Gardiners Island off the coast of New York on your way there. Once you get there, you hire an attorney because you are sure you are innocent. You find your friend the Earl of Bellomont who you think will help you.
  
  He instead orders you to be arrested. He, being your sponsor, was severely embarassed by the rumors spreading around the colonies and England about your piracy. You are brought to England to await your trial.
  
  > England
  Once you arrive in England, you are put in prison and wait for your trial. You had saved the French passes from the Armenian ship you attacked, hoping that those would spare you, but those were taken from you and given to the Earl of Bellomont. They are missing at the trial. You become angry that you would be betrayed like this
  
  Your trial comes out against your favor. You are found guilty of piracy and will be hanged. You have no choice
  
  > Hanging
  On the day of your hanging, you get wildly drunk, to the disappointment of those few people who still believe in your innocence. There is a pastor who offers you the chance to repent for your sins.
  
  > Refuse
  You refuse to repent for your sins because you don't believe you committed any. Instead, you give a speech saying that your only regret is leaving your wife and children. The hanging platform falls beneath your feet.
  
  The rope snaps and you crash on to the ground, dazed that you survived. The crowd watching begins to protest, saying that the rope breaking is a sign from God that you are innocent. The pastor gives you a second chance to repent. You refuse again and issue a warning to other sailors not to trust wicked men, saying you were conspired against. The hanging platform falls for a second time, and this time, the rope holds.
  
  > All paths lead here
  200 years after the trial, it was revealed that the French passes from the Armenian ship and Captain Kidd's privateering contract were misfiled in a government building, supposedly by the Earl of Bellomont. It is believed that these passes, had they been at the trial, would have set Kidd free, proving his innocence
  
  Even so, the court system of the time was extremely unfair. Court judges held their jobs based on the number of cases the judge that result in the kings favor. The king, as well as the Earl, were severely embarrassed by the fact that it was widely believed that someone they hired turned pirate. They never let it slip that they were the ones who hired him. The king benefited from Kidd being sent hanging.
  
  No matter what path you chose, whether you made all the right decisions or all the wrong ones, led to your hanging
  
  No matter what Kidd did, he was a victim of pre-modern politics and judgment. Just because people believed he was a pirate, this made him a pirate.
  
  Nobody knows for sure what Kidd did at sea. Some say he killed Moore, others say he died of other causes. Some say he turned pirate, drank with the captains of pirate ships, attacked whatever ships he pleased, others said he maintained his morals and his mutinous crew got the best of him.
  
  Regardless of what he really did, he still ended up dipped in tar hanging over the river Thames to serve as a warning to other "pirates"