The Vulgate's Wings

A player-created Guide is available for this content: The High Sancta (Guide)

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ID: 145610

The sanctum-fortress of Zenith is expansive, and almost silent. If you close your eyes, you can hear them – oh so faintly.

The Vulgate's Wings is a Randomizer quality.

See here for a list of Actions that raise this quality, or click here to show them.

See here for a list of Actions that lower this quality, or click here to show them.

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Airs Descriptions

Levels

	The Vulgate's Wings
0 – 5	The sound of wings, and the feeling of wind upon your face.
6 – 10	The smell of rot, a meal left out too long.
11 – 15	Uneven stone beneath your feet, flagstones bowed by an eternity of use.
16 – 20	Footsteps behind you. Or are they the echo of your own?
21 – 25	The smell of a forest, of sap and new growth. How long has it been?
26 – 30	Cool moss beneath your fingers, budding in the cracks of derelict stonework.
31 – 35	Breathing, quiet, from around the corner. When you pass it, there is no one there.
36 – 40	The smell of sulphur. Cave-gas? Bad eggs?
41 – 45	This room is panelled in wood. Your fingers follow the grain around knots and whorls.
46 – 50	The scratch of pen on paper. It does not pause as you pass by.
51 – 55	People, left too long to fester, have their own peculiar smell.
56 – 60	Is the light here tangible? Does your skin know that it is lit? The hairs on your arms stand on end.
61 – 65	What sound does violant make? Listen. Listen harder. You can hear it, in the space between silence.
66 – 70	Can colour smell? You almost fancy the violant breaches your nostrils, frustrated by the blindfold's barrier.
71 – 75	A drop in pressure. Your ears complain. Is it the altitude?
76 – 80	Prayer has a texture. The silence here is heavy with it.
81 – 85	The scent of hot amber, and ammonia. The Illuminated must be near.
86 – 90	You reach for a wall, and grasp at empty air. This gallery opens onto a drop. Careful; it is a long way to fall.
91 – 95	Something skitters behind you. A noise borne only of too many legs.
96 – 99	A wall, wet with acid roof-drip, forces you choose between stability and scorched fingerprints.
100	You smell thunder, but the storm never breaks.