$ hg clone https://wesnoth-sfs.googlecode.com/hg/ wesnoth-sfs
requesting all changes
adding changesets
adding manifests
adding file changes
added 11 changesets with 31 changes to 31 files
updating to branch default
31 files updated, 0 files merged, 0 files removed, 0 files unresolved

$ cd wesnoth-sfs/
$ cat wesnoth-1.8.5.sfs.* > wesnoth-1.8.5.sfs

$ mkdir wesnoth
$ sudo mount wesnoth-1.8.5.sfs wesnoth -t squashfs -o loop

$ cd wesnoth/usr/local/bin
$ ./wesnoth -f ../share/wesnoth/

Barking Wilder hunches down on his knees and begins to rock back and forth, singing in a child-like soprano. "Chaos-man, chaos-man, hop-a-long home, a faction-it-is, yet we-are-alone."

"I'm looking for a lost journal. Do you know where I might find one?"

When he speaks again, his voice is level and straightforward... it is like a different, saner, person is speaking. The effect is eerie.

"More than one lost, more than one must you find. Each part of you had one, so more than one must you find." He blinks and shakes his head for a moment, as if surprised at himself, then chuckles uneasily.

"One is in a cupboard in your guest room in the hall of the Sensates, and another is on the walls of a tomb sealed deep beneath the city where the stones weep. The others are..."

Before he can finish, his right fist comes up and smashes him in the face, causing him to yowl again.

That is his last moment of clarity and after that, I am unable to get anything out of him.

I am not sure whether his words are believable. In the first place, how could the guy knows my different incarnations?

A pretty, young woman is asking for help, the bodice of her dress is torn and is stained with blood. She says some people are killing her sister. She becomes inconsistent when she mentions that one drunken man followed them ..

Noticing that the blood must be hours old for it has dried up, I threaten her to speak the truth or I will kill her. She owns up she is supposed to lure people into a nearby alley where others will rob. I let her go.

In retrospect, it looks like I made a bad decision to let her go just like that, for later in the day, many thugs in the area hunt us down. We have absolutely no chance against the gang, I and Morte run like hell to escape from their view. We have to temporarily take refuge in the Smoldering Corpse bar. I realize that given time, my injury will heal on its own. We have plenty of time to enjoy our stay here.

In the center of the bar, a flaming corpse is twisting in mid-air. His name is Ignus, one of the greatest wizards who had turned mad. He loves the flame more than anything else, and is consumed by the flame. After he had burnt the Alley of Angles, he was caught by a collaboration of many magic users. They turned him into a living conduit to the plane of Fire. Somehow, Ignus had kept himself alive by force of will alone. His lover, Drusilla, still loves him. She has sold what little she has just so she can be near him.

Barkis, the bartender, recognizes me for I had owed him. Fifteen years ago, a drunken me smashed up this place. As I had not enough money to pay for the damages, I had plucked out my eyeball and told him I'll be back to reclaim it when I have two hundred coins. That damned Barkis however charges me five hundred coins to get back my eyeball. Upon my protest, he agrees to reduce to three hundred. For what reason, should I get back my eyeball? If that eyeball is really mine, then I might be able to remember something of my past through it. For now, I have insufficient money to exchange back my eyeball, but soon, I will have after we slay the thugs.

An old man with grey beard and grey hair by the name of Ebb Creakknees, invites me with a drink. He says something that interests me, the Blood War between the baatezu and the tanar'ri. Ebb mentions that the Lady has kept the Powers out of Sigil, and ensures that the Blood War doesn't spread to Sigil.

A man by the name of Candrian Illborne, sits beside Ebb, he looks literally half-gone. There is an insubstantiality to his existence, as if some of his essence has left him. Candrian is a traveler, dreamer, and a talespinner, he had travelled to the far reaches of the multiverse. He talks for quite long about the different planes. I'm sure I can't remember half of it. He had just come back from the Negative Material Plane. He had went there to understand his body's urge to decay and the cycle of death in life and had nearly lost his existence. He was beset by shadows that sought to snuff out his soul. Candrian is able to sense that I might go there one day and he gives me a gift, a small black token that looks as if it has no dimensionality. The token had protected him from the shadows. I tell him about the paranoid woman, Ingress who can't return back to her home. Candrian has offered to help her back. I thanks him.

In another table, sits an old githzerai, his face is angular and a strange, shimmering blade is strapped across his back. He is known as Dak'kon. The githzerai shape cities with their thoughts in the shifting chaos plane of Limbo. The *karach* blade he holds is a symbol carried by one who knows the words of Zerthimon, and thus knows himself. (Zerthimon founded their race) When I asks him the question, "Do you know yourself?" and presses him for an answer, he reveals that he does not *know* himself and he does not know how to *know* himself once more. I feel a sadness, but at the same time, I feel a closeness with him.

When I asks Dak'kon about Sigil, he says that the city does not *know* itself. Sigil is in contradiction with itself, it has doors everywhere and yet these doors are locked. Somehow, I am motivated to counter him.

"You claim this city's existence is flawed. You have accepted this rather than explore the possibility that something greater may exist. That suggests you are flawed... and that you do not search for knowledge, but only for a convenient answer." Dak'kon fell silent.

"There is no *knowing* the answer to the questions we have asked. Yet the city exists. That is all."

"Yet I would maintain that we *know* ourselves by the questions we ask and the ones we do not. If we cease asking questions and accept only what we can perceive..."

"Then we will cease to *know* ourselves." Dak'kon's voice has changed slightly, become heavier. "Such words have been spoken before. I have heard them and *know* them."

"Where have you heard them?"

"The words are mine. Once, I *knew* them and *knew* their meaning. I had forgotten them until you spoke." Dak'kon's gaze travels through me, and his blade stops shimmering, bleeding of all color until it is translucent. There is a moment of silence, then Dak'kon looks up at me. "I would travel your path with you."

Do I know myself?

Am I being helpful just for the sake of helping others?

Am I being helpful so that I will gain something back, so that in turn, I will be helped?

Am I being helpful so that the evil will be punished?

Am I being helpful so that I can redeem and lessen my suffering?

Am I being helpful only to those that have also suffered?

Am I being helpful because I am more inclined to goodness?

There is one striking red-haired girl with a tail, she isn't friendly though. "Pike off, yeh clueless sod." Morte soon intervenes and gets into a war of words. Before it escalates further, I pull Morte off and bid her farewell.

Morte says he is a mimir (a talking encyclopedia), he has a special skill in taunting and by his own words, he can drive a deva to murder.

Sigil is ruled by a mysterious, powerful Lady and it is best not to cross her. Her servants are those mysterious floating creatures (Dabus) that seems to be either building or repairing all over the city. Out of curiosity, I attempt to talk to one Dabus. A series of symbols appears above its head when a Dabus communicates. After some time, I find that I can understand those symbols and speak with Dabus, though they do not talk much.

We meet a haggard woman who is paranoid with Sigil and doors. (portals) Sigil is called the 'City of Doors,' mostly because there's a LOT of invisible doors that lead in and out of it, and just about anything can be a door (portal) if you have the right key to activate it. She calms down slightly when she describes how she had ended up in Sigil a long time ago. She was humming a tune by a glade with two dead trees that had fallen together, when a brilliant door opened in the space between the crossed trees. She stepped through the door and ended in Sigil. Since then, she had tried many times and many doors to return back and had suffered so much that she is afraid of going through any door or arch for fear that it might be a portal that lead her to a terrible place. She had lost her hand, it was burnt, and since then, she had lived her life with fear. It is a sad story, I tell her that I will help her if I know of a way.

In one house, we meet an angry man and it takes a mighty effort of restraint to leave him. From his wife, we come to know that he had signed a Dead Contract (it gives Dustmen the right to the dead body) with the Dustmen and he had become sullen after that. His wife had tried to undo the contract with Gravesend but wasn't able to. I decide to help them and his wife makes me promise not to let her husband know about this.

In the Gathering Dust bar, we manage to convince Gravesend that it is morally wrong for him to hold such a contract for one that is hindered by the contract to believe in True Death yet. We are able to speak with a few other Dustmens, in particular, the chief Dustmen, Emoric is also interested in Pharod, Pharod had been trading a large number of deaders to them and he wants to know where so many dead bodies come from.

I tear up the Dead Contract in front of Angyar. Both are grateful and Angyar's wife will allow us to rest in their house. It is safer to rest during the night as the Hive become more dangerous with many thugs ready to kill and rob. When I tell Angyar that I need to find Pharod, he tells me that Pharod's kip is under Ragpicker Square, there is a portal that leads to it and we need to carry some junks to activate the portal.

Ragpicker Square is full of piles of trash, and broken down buildings that looked as though they will soon collapse. We find out that Sharegrave is the boss of the collectors around this place. Once I tell Sharegrave that I need to find Pharod to get back some of my things, Sharegrave becomes more friendly. He even offers me a hundred copper commons to find out where did Pharod found so many dead bodies. I gladly accept his offer.

There is an elderly old woman in one wooden hut. She is the midwife of the Square, her name is Mebbeth. Mebbeth tells me that Pharod can be found beneath Ragpicker Square, and there is a gate that leads to his nest somewhere here in the Square.

For some reason, I have a feeling that Mebbeth may be a witch, so I question her. It turns out she knows magic. I ask Mebbeth to teach me magic so that it may help me to solve the mystery of who I am.

"The Art may help, it may not, and ye must not rely on it ta solve all o' yer problems." She sighed. "Child, it's most like only going to add another chip to yer pile o' questions..."

Mebbeth eventually agrees to teach me if I can complete some tasks for her. The first task is to find the strange black herbs she needs, she gives me the herbs seed. We head over to the Hive marketplace and inquire a fruit merchant about the seed, the merchant has no idea about the herbs. Maybe, a gardener can help? Just then, my mind recalls one by the name of Mourns-For-Trees who can help. He is sad that trees are dying and we have helped him to care for the trees by believing and wanting the trees to grow. When we speak with him again, I am reminded of his belief that beliefs can shape things. I am then able to believe and want the seed to grow, and much to my surprise, the seed grows into a plant that wrap around my wrist.

After I complete two other tasks, Mebbeth asks me whether I still want to learn the art. I know the guiding goal of my errands was to test my persistence and Mebbeth knows who I had to see to accomplish each errand. I reflect on what I had learned from those I had talked to.

"Mourns-for-Trees showed me that my beliefs affect the world around me, Giscorl taught me that ritual is a wasted effort if the purpose of the ritual is ignored, Meir'am taught me that no matter how much I think I know, there is still much I can learn from another's eyes."

Mebbeth thinks I will be a master sorcerer one day and proceeds to test whether I can read spell recipe. Instinctively, I relax my eyes and I am able to understand the symbols to be a minor divination that allows user to see the nature of an item. Mebbeth's eyes widened.

"Who are ye to test Ol' Mebbeth so?! Are ye some fiend?"

"No."

"Well... not expectin' it, was I..." She nods at the recipe, then plucks it out of my hand. "What ye see, it's written in the language of the *Art.* If ye're not a mageling yet, it should be all-a-swirl-jumble of mish-mash." She snaps her finger. "Yet, clear as crystal, ye pluck the sense of it right up. Mayhap ye tell Ol' Mebbeth why that is?"

I think I may have known once, but forgot... seeing the symbols just jarred my memory. Mebbeth then creates a spell book with those items that I have fetched for her. She gives me some simple spells and dismiss me.

"All right child -- don't tarry here any longer. One such as ye has other ways to spend one's time rather than hang around Ol' Mebbeth."

I thanks Mebbeth. (Mebbeth can help to heal us if needed and we can also rest in her place)

The Mortuary uses zombies as cheap labor.

The first living person we meet is a very old scribe, he is writing in a huge book. Despite Morte's protest, I decide to speak with the scribe for he might know something about how I got here. The scribe name is Dhall, and he seems to know me for he calls me the Restless One.

Dhall explains to me I am one of those souls who can never attain the True Death. True Death is non-existence, it is a state of purity. Dhall is a Dustmen, a faction that believes in True Death, and my existence is unacceptable to them.

If such is the case, then Dhall must have kept the secret of my existence to himself. Why? Dhall believes that forcing their beliefs upon me is not just, and he is willing to protect my right to search for my own truth.

Dhall mentions that others who have journeyed with me in the past are interred here, one woman is in the northwest memorial hall. Dhall thinks that it may help to revive my memory. When ask about Pharod, Dhall says Pharod is a collector of the dead, they trade dead bodies to the Dustmen. Pharod is a knight of the post, cross-trading filth of the lowest sort and Dhall warns me not to seek out Pharod. Dhall thinks that my true wounds run much deeper than the scars that decorate my surface.

I am grateful to Dhall, before we left, I ask him whether he needs help as he seems ill. Dhall is content that he is closer now to the True Death and the peace he is seeking. Dhall affirms that I must come to terms with True Death.

Dhall is wise.

We meet a tiefling woman, (one who has fiend blood) she is so engrossed working on the corpse that she ignores my greetings. Somehow, as I watch her hands darting in and out of the corpse, I become mesmerized and I feel a prickling sensation along my scalp. I have a vision that I was placing some items inside a zombie chest. I am certain now that I had been in the mortuary before. As the memory fades, I tap on her shoulders. She must be near-sighted for she mistakes me as a zombie and asks me to find some threads and embalming juice and bring back to Ei-Vene. We return back to Ei-Vene after we found the items. Once Ei-Vene finished her work on the corpse, she turns to face me and extends her hand to examine my scars.

"Hmmph. Who write on you? Hivers do that? No respect for zomfies. Zomfies, not paintings." She sniffed, then poked one of my scars. "This one bad shape, many scars, no preserfs."

Ei-Vene quickly stitches up my scars and applies the embalming fluid on me. Somehow, I feels better. (+1HP)

As I come to a bier with a plaque which read, "Here lies Deionarra.", a beautiful ghostly form appears. She asks whether I have come to see the misery I have wrought and calls me "my Love". I have a feeling that I may be the cause of her death and she knew one of my previous me. Deionarra says that I am cursed, Death rejects me and my memories have abandoned me. She believes that every incarnation weakens my thoughts and memories, and I may one day forget that I cannot die.

Deionarra knows that in my hand lies the spark of life and death, that I can bring forth life to those that die near me. As I listen to her, a crawling sensation wells up in the back of my skull, and I suddenly remember how to coax the dimmest spark of life from a body. (raise dead) I ask Deionarra to guide me to a place of safety and promise her I shall return as soon as I can to speak to her again. Deionarra reveals the mortuary has some portals that I may be able to use to escape. However, such portals will only reveal themselves when I have the proper 'key' and only the Dustmen knows such keys.

I bid her farewell, as I am about to leave, Deionarra stops me and she seems to have some important information to share with me. Deionarra has some vision of my future, and she will tell me if I promise I will return and find some means to save her or join her. Although I have no desire to join her, somehow I feel compelled to save her for I believe she truly loves me and means me no harm.

"You shall meet enemies three, but none more dangerous than yourself in your full glory. They are shades of evil, of good, and of neutrality given life and twisted by the laws of the planes."

"You shall come to a prison built of regrets and sorrow, where the shadows themselves have gone mad. There you will be asked to make a terrible sacrifice, my Love. For the matter to be laid to rest, you must destroy that which keeps you alive and be immortal no longer."

"I know that you must die... while you still can. The circle must come to a close, my Love. You were not meant for this life. You must find that which was taken from you and travel beyond, into the lands of the dead."

"I shall wait for you in death's halls, my Love." She smiled, but there was only sadness in it. She closed her eyes, and with an ethereal whisper, she faded.

It seems that I need to find out what was taken from me and destroy it, it is what makes me immortal. In doing so, I will become mortal once more and stop the karma of my existence. I am horrified with what Deionarra tells me and at a loss to make any sense out of it. Why should I destroy that which makes me immortal?

My thoughts are interrupted by Morte. When I ask Morte whether he knows the spirit I was talking to, Morte claims that he doesn't see any spirit.

A Dustmen by the name of Soego allows us to leave the mortuary. [ Torment ]