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(Created page with "{{MiscItemPage | name = Inklings | description = | quote = This book is redolent with the enticing smell of paper and ink. | book text = [This novel is bookmarked on a page lined with markings; its reader seems to have underscored certain parts for emphasis] After all, there's no point in denying the undeniable, which, until that moment, I had obscured with the million minor tasks by which I measured my life. Yes, the polishing, the scrubbing, the pouring of wine and t...") |
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{{MiscItemPage | {{MiscItemPage | ||
| name = Inklings | | name = Inklings | ||
| description = | | image = Book Generic G Image.png | ||
| controller icon = Book Generic G Unfaded.png | |||
| icon = Book Generic G Item Icon.png | |||
| description = '''Inklings''' contains ruminations likely written by Garlow. | |||
| quote = This book is redolent with the enticing smell of paper and ink. | | quote = This book is redolent with the enticing smell of paper and ink. | ||
| book author = Old Garlow | |||
| book text = [This novel is bookmarked on a page lined with markings; its reader seems to have underscored certain parts for emphasis] | | book text = [This novel is bookmarked on a page lined with markings; its reader seems to have underscored certain parts for emphasis] | ||
After all, there's no point in denying the undeniable, which, until that moment, I had obscured with the million minor tasks by which I measured my life. Yes, the polishing, the scrubbing, the pouring of wine and tea and deference into my master's cup - all of it had surrounded and obscured the essential truth of my life, like a phalanx now fallen. I had wasted my years, one by one, and now there were hardly any left to me at all. | After all, there's no point in denying the undeniable, which, until that moment, I had obscured with the million minor tasks by which I measured my life. Yes, the polishing, the scrubbing, the pouring of wine and tea and deference into my master's cup - all of it had surrounded and obscured the essential truth of my life, like a phalanx now fallen. I had wasted my years, one by one, and now there were hardly any left to me at all. | ||
| type = Books | | type = Books | ||
| rarity = common | | rarity = common | ||
| Line 12: | Line 16: | ||
| weight lb = 1 | | weight lb = 1 | ||
| price = 14 | | price = 14 | ||
| uid = BOOK_UNI_LOW_WhatRemainsOfYourDay | |||
| uuid = 9bff3943-679e-43bc-98c4-fac2b6267e9b | |||
| where to find = * Basement of [[Old Garlow's Place]] at {{coords|799|746}} | |||
| notes = See also: | |||
* [[A Greeting to this Home's New Occupants]] | |||
* [[Garlow's Retirement Plan]] | |||
}} | }} | ||
Latest revision as of 23:06, 18 October 2024
Inklings contains ruminations likely written by Garlow.
This book is redolent with the enticing smell of paper and ink.
Properties
Books
Author: Old Garlow
Rarity: Common
Weight: 0.5 kg / 1 lb
Price: 14 gp 
UID
BOOK_UNI_LOW_WhatRemainsOfYourDayUUID
9bff3943-679e-43bc-98c4-fac2b6267e9b
Where to find
- Basement of Old Garlow's Place at X: 799 Y: 746
Text
[This novel is bookmarked on a page lined with markings; its reader seems to have underscored certain parts for emphasis]
After all, there's no point in denying the undeniable, which, until that moment, I had obscured with the million minor tasks by which I measured my life. Yes, the polishing, the scrubbing, the pouring of wine and tea and deference into my master's cup - all of it had surrounded and obscured the essential truth of my life, like a phalanx now fallen. I had wasted my years, one by one, and now there were hardly any left to me at all.