| type | uistring |
|---|---|
| id | phase2.intro_wood_closes |
| text | The wood closes around you. Somewhere behind, he is already coming. |
type: uistring id: phase2.intro_reach_gate text: Reach the Boundary Gate to the east. Do not let him take you.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_sit_quiet text: The fire burns low and the wood holds its breath. A quiet night — rare, and not to be squandered.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_sit_ambush text: Something circles just beyond the firelight, patient and hungry. You will not sleep until it is dealt with.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_sit_faering text: A ring of pale toadstools has pushed up at the edge of your light, and the air hums with fae mischief.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_sit_wanderer text: A hooded figure shuffles to the far side of your fire, hands open and empty. "Peace, stray. Only the warmth — and a word."
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_sit_dream text: Sleep takes you before you mean it to, and the dream that comes is not your own...
type: uistring id: phase2.beast_pact_pass text: The wild things know their kin — they slip back into the wood and let you pass.
type: uistring id: phase2.gate_stones_part text: The boundary stones part. Beyond lies the Heart of the Ritual.
type: uistring id: phase2.end_starved text: Starved, parched and spent, you sink into the loam. The forest keeps you.
type: uistring id: phase2.end_caught text: His hand closes on the back of your neck. "Enough running, little vessel."
type: uistring id: phase2.end_ritual_complete text: The rite completes across the miles. Your thoughts fold shut like a book.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_nothing_to_eat text: Nothing to eat or drink. A camp would be a cold, hungry thing.
type: uistring id: phase2.ambush_kick_fire text: You kick the fire bright and turn to face the dark.
type: uistring id: phase2.faering_boon text: You step into the ring and bargain well: a boon of mana, and a strange seed pressed into your palm.
type: uistring id: phase2.faering_cruel text: The fae are cruel tonight. Their laughter rings — and something far off turns its head.
type: uistring id: phase2.wanderer_road_fmt text: The wanderer traces the low road toward the gate for you, and shares a little food (+%d). "Keep off the ridgelines," they say, and are gone.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_cannot_sleep text: You cannot sleep with something stalking the dark. Face it first.
type: uistring id: phase2.wood_provides_fmt text: The wood provides for its own: +%d food, +%d water.
type: uistring id: phase2.break_camp_day_fmt text: Day %d: you break camp at first light. Rested — but he does not sleep.
type: uistring id: phase2.weather_storm text: A storm rolls in — hard going, but hard to be tracked in.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_masking text: You brew a Masking Draught. The trace fades; the parasite recoils in your blood.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_stimulant text: You mix a Stimulant. Limbs and mind sharpen at a cost you'll pay later.
type: uistring id: phase2.false_trail_weave text: You weave a false trail into the wood. Let him chase a ghost.
type: uistring id: phase2.echo_bloodhound_toast text: You echo his hunt — your next step comes free and swift.
type: uistring id: phase2.echo_bloodhound_log text: Auralis: you copy his Bloodhound drive — the next step costs you nothing.
type: uistring id: phase2.echo_architect_toast text: You echo his cunning — a snare set on your own back-trail.
type: uistring id: phase2.echo_architect_log text: Auralis: you copy his Architect craft — a trap laid where you stood.
type: uistring id: phase2.echo_doubt_toast text: You echo his doubt — and slip cleanly from his read.
type: uistring id: phase2.echo_doubt_log text: Auralis: you cloud his senses — the trace falls away.
type: uistring id: phase2.combat_lost_deepwood text: You fall in the deep wood, and the earth drinks you down.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_return_to_fire text: The dark falls quiet again. You return to the fire.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_depleted text: This place is spent for now — its gifts will return in a day or two.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_water text: Clear water in a dark wood — drink your fill, and fill your skins.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_shrine text: Old stones, older prayers. Attune here to quiet the trace that clings to you.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_market text: Furtive traders deal in the wilds' bounty. Barter food for what you lack.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_fae text: A ring of toadstools hums with fae mischief. Bargain, if you dare the price.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_warcamp text: An armed camp. Parley well and they may share their fire — and their favour.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_caves text: Fungal dark, thick with reagents — and with things that resent harvest.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_contested text: A place of raw power, and of watching eyes. Rich pickings, steep risk.
type: uistring id: phase2.node_desc_waypoint text: A waypoint in the wilds. Rest a moment, or forage what you can.
type: uistring id: phase2.attune_kneel text: You kneel and attune. The trace loosens its grip; the parasite recoils.
type: uistring id: phase2.fae_pleased text: The fae are pleased. A boon of mana and a strange seed pressed into your palm.
type: uistring id: phase2.fae_cruel text: The fae are cruel. Their laughter rings — and something far off turns its head.
type: uistring id: phase2.parley_pass_fmt text: You parley with the %s. They share their fire and their favour.
type: uistring id: phase2.harvest_keeper_wakes text: Something vast and soft-footed uncoils in the dark...
type: uistring id: phase2.seize_fmt text: You wrench power from the %s. The flows recoil — and something now knows exactly where you are.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_resource_fmt text: food %d water %d energy %d mana %d health %d reagents %d
type: uistring id: phase2.controls_bar text: [click] move [E] node [SPACE] wait [C] camp [X] brew [G] spells [F] war [B] aid
type: uistring id: phase2.found_bell text: Among the torn flows hangs a bell of black iron. You take it — it will toll but once.
type: uistring id: phase2.found_vial text: In a niche behind the altar rests a vial of drowned glass. You pocket its captive dusk.
type: uistring id: phase2.fog_settles text: The grey haze settles over your back-trail. What he knew of it thins.
type: uistring id: phase2.haste_field text: The wood drags; you alone are quick. Your next step is free.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_inert text: The mixture sighs and goes to sludge. These two want nothing of each other.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_ruin text: The pot SCREAMS. Every ear in the wood turns toward the sound of your name.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_curdle text: The mixture curdles and dies. The reagents are spent for nothing.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_corrupted text: The draught blackens in the cup — HIS work. It goes to bitter smoke, and the smoke says your name.
type: uistring id: phase2.brew_backlash text: The mixture detonates in your hands. Alchemical backlash — his trap, your blood.
type: uistring id: phase2.alchemy_no_reagents text: No tagged reagents. Forage the wood; harvest the caves.
type: uistring id: phase2.trap_spotted_fmt text: Something wrong in the ground ahead — %s, half-hidden.
type: uistring id: phase2.disarm_ok_fmt text: You tease %s apart, wire by wire. The ground is honest again.
type: uistring id: phase2.esc_stealthy text: You left no sign. The wood holds its breath for you a while longer.
type: uistring id: phase2.esc_distraction text: Somewhere behind, he is tearing apart a phantom. Your workings bought you a lead — and emptied you.
type: uistring id: phase2.esc_theft text: The ritual knife is yours — and the bond SCREAMS it to him. He is not searching. He is coming.
type: uistring id: phase2.esc_desperate text: You ran with what you wore. The wood will have to feed you, or it will keep you.
type: uistring id: phase2.disarm_none text: No snare within reach - the wary eye sees them as violet rings.
type: uistring id: phase2.commune_fail text: The stones murmur, but the prayer slips through your fingers.
type: uistring id: phase2.drawley_fmt text: You drink from the torn flow. %s burns itself into you - and the wood shivers with your name.
type: uistring id: phase2.card_line text: The cottage falls behind you. Ahead: leagues of unmapped wood, and somewhere in it, a man who has never once lost a vessel.
type: uistring id: phase2.sign_tracks text: Bootprints in the wet ground, pressed deep and unhurried. He was not running.
type: uistring id: phase2.sign_fire text: A campfire, cold. The wood was stacked with care and burned down to nothing.
type: uistring id: phase2.sign_bent text: Saplings bent aside and not sprung back. Something tall came through here.
type: uistring id: phase2.sign_still text: The birds here have stopped. Whatever passed, passed recently.
type: uistring id: phase3.counter_read text: You saw it coming. His working folds against your answer.
type: uistring id: phase2.camp_sit_shunned text: Nobody comes to your fire. You have made a name in this wood and it is not one that visits.
type: uistring id: phase2.watch_kept_fmt text: You bank the fire low and sit with your back to a trunk until the sky greys. Nothing finds you (trace -%d) — and you will feel it in your legs all day.
type: uistring id: phase2.visitor_silence text: You share the fire and not a word of yourself. They take the warmth, and take the hint, and go.
type: uistring id: phase2.working_unknown text: — not yet brewed —