Modulo Moon Stair and the Tree of Life: Difference between revisions
Trashmonks (talk | contribs) |
EVAPROBLEMS (talk | contribs) (added the book text as it appears in-game) |
||
| Line 18: | Line 18: | ||
}} | }} | ||
<!-- END QBE --> | <!-- END QBE --> | ||
{{ | |||
==Contents== | |||
{{Book Page |&CBy Daughter Erinna | |||
In rainbow reverie I wandered the wide territories of Qud, | |||
modulo the Moon Stair and the Tree of Life. | |||
My dreamself knew to avoid the place, | |||
where numbers go to die. | |||
Something unseen there tightens to a point, | |||
breaks time's abelian promise, | |||
and urges crystal on to palisade her weeping gulf. | |||
The artifacts of plant and time, | |||
crust and fuzz with lossy compression, | |||
doze in moonlit marble beds, | |||
touched by august muzzles. | |||
The past is unwritten as the future, | |||
And what is left, broken and changed, | |||
to be tended by the point Colossi and their swarm. | |||
They'd erase me, too. | |||
I'm mere rust on the vine's fronds,}} | |||
{{Book Page |I'm a dead girl in graveside flowers, | |||
Peering a powerless eye at the machine function that writes my gospel. | |||
But black bodies radiate, | |||
A feeling sense obtains, | |||
Swings in orbit and Becomes. | |||
On the trauma of a Nothing, | |||
Soul-things take root. | |||
We invent so many Nothings, | |||
Zero engines, annihilators, | |||
Mappers of the nullspace. | |||
But Nothings have a cost, | |||
Promise externalities, | |||
Trees grow best beside the dead.}} | |||
Revision as of 19:18, 24 January 2023
|
1 lb. Weight | |
Potential
Mods? |
|
|---|---|
Character
|
= |
ID?
|
ModuloMoonStair |
Spawns in
|
|
Infobox data from game version 2.0.204.52
| |
Crisp pages of goatskin vellum are bound into a codex.
Contents
By Daughter Erinna
In rainbow reverie I wandered the wide territories of Qud,
modulo the Moon Stair and the Tree of Life.
My dreamself knew to avoid the place,
where numbers go to die.
Something unseen there tightens to a point,
breaks time's abelian promise,
and urges crystal on to palisade her weeping gulf.
The artifacts of plant and time,
crust and fuzz with lossy compression,
doze in moonlit marble beds,
touched by august muzzles.
The past is unwritten as the future,
And what is left, broken and changed,
to be tended by the point Colossi and their swarm.
They'd erase me, too.
I'm mere rust on the vine's fronds,
I'm a dead girl in graveside flowers,
Peering a powerless eye at the machine function that writes my gospel.
But black bodies radiate,
A feeling sense obtains,
Swings in orbit and Becomes.
On the trauma of a Nothing,
Soul-things take root.
We invent so many Nothings,
Zero engines, annihilators,
Mappers of the nullspace.
But Nothings have a cost,
Promise externalities,
Trees grow best beside the dead.