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You seek that which is on the floor.
Reaching out your hand, your fingers close on what feels like a small box wrapped with thick paper. You carefully unwrap the box and you discover that it is a book of matches, most of which spill onto the floor as a result of your sightless fumblings. However, there are still plenty of matches left and you breathe a sigh of relief at the thought of light.
Then you wonder if perhaps this is an underground storage room for gunpowder.
You twist the paper into a torch and light it.
You look around some more. |
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