Choose the door to the right (is it right?)
You sit down on the floor and think, "Where could
I go now? I need to get away from this war!"
At that moment the scrap of metal vibrates these words: "My last
deed is done, my life is over, search for the stone in the field
of.." and as the rusty piece of tin dissipates, you find yourself
standing in a large expanse of land, with shord, vivid green grass and
not a cloud, (or a hill, or even a person, for that matter) in
sight.
The single room is empthy, although it is lit with a cheery fire,
seeming very far away from the battle raging outside.
