>>308
You tuck various dismembered pieces of anatomy under your armpits, balanced on your shoulders, under your chin and in your arms. Two left hands, one right arm, one left foot, one right foot, one ear, one thumb and two severed heads have been added to your inventory.
You walk boldly into the building - or as boldly as one can, with so much carrion precariously balanced on oneself - and every grunt you pass on the way wails in horror at the sight of you, variously cringing, bursting into tears or curling up into the foetal position. By the time you reach the large hexagonal central room, the air is thick with lamentations.
There are two figures sitting beside the campfire. One is the girl in the wheelchair, the other is a tall, androgynous looking person, dressed in close-fitting white clothing. Their hair is just one unrealistically uniform light grey mass. They are staring at you with lidless blue eyes and a completely placid expression. The girl, meanwhile, is slicing off pieces of one of the sausages you gave her and eating them one by one.
She glares at you and mutters something inaudible under her breath.
>>309
You cannot locate any ungulates, defective or otherwise. You enquire as to how the food situation is, and whether you could perchance bake some nice bread. The girl sighs and admits that the food situation is better than it has been in a while, with two entire sausages and fewer to feed than ever - but no chance of bread. Your desires further diverge from cruel reality, when you find that you have no baskets, no sons, no tents, no tunics, no robes, no ephods, no breastpieces, no turbans, no sacred emblems, no anointing oil, nor even any sashes. How disappointing.
>>310
Do you truly want all these things, though? What you want most acutely, you find, is to declare your tender, parental love for the poor girl in the wheelchair. Now, being monsoon season, it is a beautifully cinematic time for it, you think. Nonetheless, she bluntly rebuffs your heartfelt advances.
>>311
There are metal frames on the skylight directly above you, but there's no way you could possibly reach those. The only other metalliferous objects you can locate are all in the possession of the young lady before you. You begin by bending down, dropping a foot and an ear in the process, and trying to lick the spokes of her wheelchair. The girl proves too fast for you, however, and is already well out of tongue range and pointing a harpoon gun at your head before you can do anything. "Get up, you piece of shit." she says through downturned lips. You crawl over, tongue extended, to taste the weapon, only to find it discharged directly into your face. You are killed instantly.
GAME OVER
Deaths: 10
(Continuing from most recent saved game: >>313)
>>312
You sing a little ditty to better ingratiate yourself into the group. The girl, predictably enough, is not amused; the strange androgynous person cocks their head but otherwise makes no response; and the grunts simply continue to wail and cower from you. Taking charge of the situation, the girl then declares that the camp is no longer safe, and that everyone must gather their belongings and prepare to leave. She also mentions that there used to be another two camp members - a married couple, or something like that - who went missing recently, and that a secondary objective is to find them.
It has been decided that you will leave first thing in the morning. The sun is already beginning to set, and you have only a short period of daylight left before night falls.