text: [Themes: Religious, Historical, Middle Ages, monk, bible, plague]
  
  > Look around
  The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.
  
  The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.
  
  The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.
  
  Church (in the pews)
  A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.
  
  Drogo grins widely as he drags you up to the chancel.
  
  "Come, father." His eyes glow with childlike enthusiasm, but his grip is of steel. "We are almost there!"
  
  Something is different at the far end of the chancel. Is it?
  
  Good Lord.
  
  Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
  
  > hit Drogo
  That would be difficult with Drogo dragging you.
  
  Church (on the chancel)
  Was your time wasted up here? Was it all for naught? As you look to the empty pews to the south, you wonder how it has helped anyone.
  
  Drogo stands proudly and looks to you for approval, his grin tentative.
  
  "Look, father!" he says, dragging you before the cross. "I made it all by myself."
  
  Looking up, you see what Drogo was so excited about. Matteo dangles crucified from the cross, vicious holes in his hands and feet.
  
  Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
  
  > pray to Cecilia
  You say a few short words to Cecilia.
  
  She can do nothing for you, right now.
  
  "Well, father. Isn't it beautiful?" Drogo stands, gripping your wrist tightly and nodding proudly to himself.
  
  > look at Matteo
  Matteo's corpse dangles from the cross. The wounds in his head, hands, and feet sparkle with crystals of frozen blood, and his eyes stare through you to nothing.
  
  Jesus always looked so beautiful on the cross. Matteo just looks dead.
  
  > examine Drogo
  His hair is pasted to his forehead with sweat. His eyes are wild and bloodshot.
  
  Drogo strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm. But it needs something." He looks confused for a moment, before flinging a hand in the air with a satisfied whistle. "And I know exactly what!"
  
  Before you can move, he sprints out of the church.
  
  > Go south
  Church (in the pews)
  A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.
  
  Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.
  
  The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
  
  The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.
  
  > examine Saints
  Dim stained glass windows block out the light but not the cold. They hold back Saint Francis of Assisi, Medard of Noyon, Drausinus, and Cuthbert.
  
  > go north
  Church (on the chancel)
  Was your time wasted up here? Was it all for naught? As you look to the empty pews to the south, you wonder how it has helped anyone.
  
  Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.
  
  The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
  
  Saint Cuthbert sinks in his tomb, rot creeping in from his extremities.
  
  The lectern is weak and brittle, barely able to support the weight of the massive tome upon it.
  
  > examine Cuthbert
  His skin is blotched and discolored, and his hair drops from a shriveled scalp.
  
  > look at Bible
  The Bible's pages are curled and brittle. Splits and cracks creep through the urine-colored pages.
  
  > read Bible
  You stare at the pages like you have so many times, but you cannot focus. The words spin and slide away from your eyes.
  
  > Go south
  Church (in the pews)
  A tangle of pews fills the room: they part through the middle and up to the chancel in the north. Light hits the windows and slides down outside: lost. The church is dim; the frescoes are lost in shadow.
  
  Matteo hangs from the cross, melting snow forms a pool at his feet.
  
  The Saints look down with cold eyes. It is not pity. Something else.
  
  The font squats before the chancel, its finish a mouldy grey.
  
  > Go south
  The sun shines in the east, but the cloister is dim. There was no snow last night, but it remains high. It is dirty and soaks up what little light makes it here.
  
  The colonnade is broken to the south by the exit to the hall and to the west by the entrance to the refectory. The brothers' dormitory lies to the east, between the calefactory in the southeast and the belltower in the northeast.
  
  The church cowers away from the sun. Her sins, like all sins, are revealed by the light of day.
  
  > tell Constantin about Matteo
  "Damn Lucca. He'll burn in Hell for what he did."
  
  > tell Constantin about Drogo
  "Drogo crucified Matteo." Your words are flat, lifeless.
  
  "Damnit," he slams the hammer extra hard, and turns to you. "Why did you let him out?" he massages the hammer gently. "Well, you deal with him, because if he comes around here, I can't guarantee his safety."
  
  > Go west
  The locutory used to be alive with the bartering of merchants and the tales of visiting brothers, but since the gate was closed, no one has been in here but you. A small bed is pushed up against the wall for those visitors not permitted residency in the monastery, its tired frame supporting a light mattress.
  
  A small circle of warmth surrounds the fireplace near the door to the east.
  
  Cecilia paces back and forth.
  
  A gust of wind slices across your ears. You shiver.
  
  > talk to Cecilia
  She closes her eyes. "I cannot hear much. God's voice is weak in this place. But I know Lucca did not escape. At least, not on his own."
  
  > tell Cecilia about Matteo
  "He died as he lived, in sin."
  
  Cold knives of pain cut through your skull. They ease off, leaving a dull throbbing behind your eyes.
  
  > tell Cecilia about Lucca
  "He did not escape: someone freed him."
  
  > ask Cecilia about yourself
  "I am here to help you; no one else can."
  
  An itch tickles beneath your skin.
  
  > Go east
  There is little to be seen here but the locutory door to the west and your room to the east. North and south both lead to the cold: north to the cloister and south to outside.
  
  The alms box hangs closed beside the door.
  
  A wolf howls in the distance. A hungry, plaintive sound.
  
  > Go south
  (opening the outside door)
  
  The last hint of shelter against the outside world. But it is only a hint. The wind rushes by like a stream of ice water to the south: only the curve of the arch protects you. The warmth, for as much as it can be called that, of the monastery awaits to the north and the cold of outside to the south.
  
  > go to the south
  The sun's light does nothing to warm you, but instead it burns your eyes with its fury: nothing like the cool darkness inside the monastery to the north. It is so bright that you can barely make out the stables to the east: they are just a darker square in a field of white. The infirmary is a little clearer to the west. A tangle of footsteps lead south to the gate.
  
  A lone white dove flies off into the morning sun.
  
  > Examine dove
  The dove is gone.
  
  > examine the footsteps
  There are two sets: one that goes both in and out, and another that only goes out. Mingled among them is a strange pattern in the snow. It looks as though someone was using two hot pokers as walking sticks, one in each hand. The melted holes cut through the snow, revealing scorch marks on the dead grass beneath.
  
  > Go east
  In the shadow of the stables, you can make things out a little more clearly. Half-a-dozen empty stalls show the plague's influence: with their caretakers dead, the horses starved. The smell winds its way through your nostrils, numb though they are. It can be escaped to the path in the west or the garden in the northeast. A small ladder leads up to the roof of the stables.
  
  A bale of hay sits just slightly more than neck's length from the horses' stalls.
  
  > Smell
  The sweat of panic is a different kind of sweat. The maddened horses reek of it. The cold has staved off their rot somewhat, but even now, it creeps through the air.
  
  > examine the horses
  No. You were wrong. Not all the horses starved. Some tried to escape. The gates are mashed and torn, but none of the horses were strong enough to break out. Their hooves are bloody and raw: their heads soft with bruises.
  
  Wait. One still moves. She is sore and thin, but she lives.
  
  > examine the horse
  The horse stares at the bale of hay with wild eyes and scrapes at the ground with her hooves.
  
  > Pet horse
  The horse whips her head at your touch.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  a hare
  Matteo's note
  Ignatius's eye
  Matteo's eyes
  Lucca's eyes
  Constantin's eyes
  a coin
  your tinderbox
  your candle (lit)
  your frock (being worn)
  
  > take the eyes
  Which do you mean, Ignatius's eye, Matteo's eyes, Lucca's eyes or Constantin's eyes?
  
  > give the hay to the horse
  The horse hastily starts chomping at the hay. Within moments, the entire bale is gone.