Player: hi
A Wrinkled Bonelord: What's this? An optically challenged entity called Player. How fascinating!
Player: job / fascinating
A Wrinkled Bonelord: I'm the great librarian of this library of a once great city.
Player: librarian
A Wrinkled Bonelord: So much knowledge was lost in the great wars when we had to retreat to hidden places beneath the surface ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Most of our data storages are lost and so are the means to read or recreate some of them ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: We had to use the primitive storage form of books to recreate some of the lost knowledge. In the past, we used far more advanced forms of storage ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Such as bound spirits but also means your puny brain would never be able to comprehend.
Player: library
A Wrinkled Bonelord: It's a fine library, isn't it? All this knowledge! All those books!
Player: books
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Our books are written in 469, of course you can't understand them.
Player: 469
A Wrinkled Bonelord: The language of my kind. Superior to any other language and only to be spoken by entities with enough eyes to blink it.
Player: language
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Our language is beyond comprehension by your lesser beings. It heavily relies on mathemagic ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Your brain is not suited for the mathemagical processing necessary to understand our language ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: To decipher even our most basic texts, it would need a genius that can calculate numbers within seconds in his brain.
Player: eyes
A Wrinkled Bonelord: You pitiful two-eyed creatures. In our eyes, you look weird. It is pathetic how much you depend on hands and legs ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Since we bonelords have more eyes than any creature in the world, it is obvious that you can determine the value of a species by the number of its eyes.
Player: Our
A Wrinkled Bonelord: The world is full of inferior species. Once, our race ruled the whole world, but then the gods destroyed our empire ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: But our race is proficient in the return from death. One day we will rise again, that's for sure!
Player: city
A Wrinkled Bonelord: This city is nothing but a pale shadow compared to the cities of the past. Our race was forced to retreat to such insignificant underground outposts after the wars.
Player: wars
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Our race has fought many wars in the past and has won most of them. Sometimes, though, it takes only one loss to bring a race down ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: All the more if the gods you are fighting for, turn out to be traitors.
Player: bonelord
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Our race is very old. Over the time, we have been given many different names by other races ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: The term bonelord sticks to us for quite a while now ...
A Wrinkled Bonelord: In our language the name of our race is not fixed but a complex formula, and as such it always changes for the subjective viewer.
Player: name
A Wrinkled Bonelord: I'm 486486 and NOT 'Blinky' as some people called me ... before they died. So don't ... confuse your numbers, as my kind says.
Player: Blinky
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Interesting how foolish you are. Take this and see how long you'll last.
Player: numbers
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Numbers are essential. They are the secret behind the scenes. If you are a master of mathematics, you are a master over life and death.
Player: death
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Yes, yes, I'll kill you soon enough, now let me continue my investigations about you.
Player: 0
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Go and wash your eyes for using this obscene number!
Player: ab'dendriel
A Wrinkled Bonelord: I heard that elves moved in upstairs.
Player: god
A Wrinkled Bonelord: They will mourn the day they abandoned us.
Player: minotaurs
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Their mages are so close to the truth. Closer than they know and closer than it's good for them.
Player: orcs
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Noisy pests.
Player: excalibug
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Only inferior species need weapons.
Player: tibia
A Wrinkled Bonelord: It's 1, not 'Tibia', silly.
Player: cyclops
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Ugliness incarnated. Only one eye! Imagine that! How horrible!
Player: humans
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Good tools to work with ... once they are dead, that is.
Player: elves
A Wrinkled Bonelord: These fools and their superstitious life cult don't understand anything of importance.
Player: bye / farewell
A Wrinkled Bonelord: Wait right there. I'll eat you right after writing down what I found out.