You head through the hatch to Our Lady of Faggots (DP81810).

| | /\| |   Passenger Cabin (Our Lady of Faggots) 4:12pm
| | []| |   Entering this wide open mouth of titanium and skin feels like a
| | ()| |   mistake.  It groans under its own weight like a gluttonous child
| | []| |   and even has the sticky, fleshy smell of one.  The dark, nearly
| | \/| |   black paint that coats the hull would be all consuming if not for
           the rows of ever-burning candles, secured onto wooden planks with
 nails.  Flickering light reveals fresh, though faint paintings of hideous
 freaks against the ruined Necropolis skyline.  Some shredded tapestries of abom
 nation heroes decorate the walls, though none of the clawing dares mar the
 actual figures.  The cool ceramic tiling underfoot is an ambiguous brown,
 though what's more notable is the blood and acid splattered against it and the
 scores of skulls piled together.  Oh, and there's a lovely little welcome mat,
 too. 
 A narrow passage to the fore leads to the galley.  The walls narrow to the aft,
 leading to the storage cabin. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A sculpture of Hellboy is hanging on the
 wall.  A corrosive pike is hanging on the wall. 
You see lots of scrimshaws of consumption and lots of scrimshaws of a baby on the floor.

[ Exits:  north(fore)  south(aft)  +in(shower door)  +in(freezer door)  out(exit hatch) ]


wall mount
A wall mount with hooks.
Misc:
  a sculpture of Hellboy [800g] 
Hung on the wall mount, you see:
A tall powerfully-built humanoid with bright red skin and bulging muscles.  
His chiseled face seems permanently locked in a sardonic grin.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
[ You gained fetish points in guns! ]
It's made of hard-fired deep brown synthetic clay.

scrimshaw of dragon
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
A drawing of a dragon rising upwards.
It's a decent piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - Sheena.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.

scrimshaw of IOU
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
This IOU can be redeemed with dezpereaux for one(1) favor.
It's a fairly lame piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - dezpereaux.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.

scrimshaw of consumption
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
Humanesque teeth tearing through roadkill.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.
I see no "baby" here.

scrimshaw of a baby
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
A fetus floating in a bottle of Coca-Cola
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.
The walls narrow to the aft, leading to the storage cabin.


| | | | |   Galley (Our Lady of Faggots) 4:36pm
| | /\| |   This section is a continuation of rancid skin and gruesome
| | ()| |   imagery.  The darkness that basks the galley's walls is only
| | []| |   penetrated by the waxing and waning of candlelight.  Every piece of
| | []| |   furniture crammed into this narrow space has received its proper
           thrashing, exposed coil and skeleton threaten to spear the weary. 
 The ruddy ceramic tile here is blanketed by a large Persian rug, though the
 typical floral and geometric arrangement has been forgoed for highly stylized
 organs. 
 A nice couch sits against the wall.  The faded (but tasteful) oriental rug
 really ties the room together.  A yetiskin bed is here.  A nice couch sits
 against the wall.  A zombie leather couch sits against the wall.  There is an
 air mattress on the floor here. 
 The passenger cabin lies to the aft.  A door to the fore leads to the control
 cabin.  A staircase leads up. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  There is an origami hideous freak and a
 Tide-pod on the long table.  An ornate fountain sits in a corner.  A plastic
 skeleton stands here, hanging a woman suit, an anklet of chuman teeth, and a
 pair of bilesoaked stranglers. 
You see three newton's cradles and scores of scrimshaws of Flat on the floor.

[ Exits:  +north(door to the fore)  south(aft)  < up ]

You take a careful look around Galley...
The wallpaper -- decent.  [ 4 chill ]
The long table -- fucking awesome.  [ 18 chill ]
The fountain of bleach -- not bad.  [ 2 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -16 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -20 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -28 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
The scrimshaw of Flat -- outright TACKY.  [ -24 chill ]
Unfortunately, it's a completely cluttered disaster area in here. [ -7 chill ]
Overall, Galley seems outright TACKY. [ Total chill: -634 ]
It's about 10m across.
You sit on the nice couch.

scrimshaw of Flat
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
Some sort of creature splayed and smeared open over asphalt.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.
The fountain bubbles away happily.


| | | | |   Fore Vacuum Bag (Our Lady of Faggots) 4:45pm
| | | | |   Greater emphasis is placed on the actual structure of the fore
| | ()| |   here, though this is only in framing the intricate metalwork
| | }{| |   bolted onto the different sections of the titanium frame.  The
| | }{| |   metalwork subsists of thin lengths of steel twisted and welded
           together to resemble veins.  Behind these veins are light-handed
 washes of reds and pinks and purples, and standing here almost feels like the
 inside of a heart, always contracting and expanding.  The floor is a clinical
 grey steel, but in it you see engravings of biomechanical freaks clinging
 together, their organic matter looking especially jarring against the metal.  A
 thick coat of protector glazes over the decorative elements. 
 The catwalk continues to the aft.  A narrow spiral staircase leads down to the
 galley. 
 An origami biomechanical freak is hanging on the wall.  The walls are covered
 with wallpaper. 
You see lots of scrimshaws of Stuck and lots of scrimshaws of Wig on the floor.

[ Exits:  south(aft)  > down  +in(closet door) ]

wall mount
A wall mount with hooks.
Misc:
  an origami biomechanical freak [5g]
Hung on the wall mount, you see:
A delicate folded-paper sculpture, of fine white paper.  The folded points 
and surfaces form the shape of a biomechanical freak.

scrimshaw of Stuck
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
A nondescript mouth pressed against a slitted throat.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.

scrimshaw of Wig
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
A scalpel delicately peeling a scalp.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.
The catwalk continues to the aft.


| | | | |   Midship Vacuum Bag (Our Lady of Faggots) 4:53pm
| | }{| |   A diseased, warm yellow spreads itself across this portion of the
| | ()| |   zeppelin, interrupted by dark grey blocks of paint resembling the
| | }{| |   waste disposal site of the Toxic Dump.  The blocks look to grow
| | | | |   from the floor which itself is a pristine black marble with
           capillaries of white running through.  In the middlest part of the
 ceiling is a less realized and more absurd homage to Grant Wood's American
 Gothic, with two, jaundiced-eyed freaks playing the roles of pitchforking
 father and daughter.  Neon green barrels stamped with bright red warnings sit
 in neat rows as seating.  No heat seems to dissipate off of the them, so
 perhaps they are safe. 
 The catwalk stretches to the fore.  The catwalk stretches to the aft. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper. 
You see lots of scrimshaws of Touchy, a score of scrimshaws of cockroach, 
and a bright green biohazard bin on the floor.

[ Exits:  north(fore)  south(aft)  +in(closet door) ]

biohazard bin
A rounded, lead-lined bin with bright orange biohazard symbols all over it. 
Doodles of people with 19th century-styled radiation lines and various 
mutations like extra arms or flippers and the like are strewn over the sides.

scrimshaw of Touchy
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
Fingers tenderly inspecting warm entrails.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.

scrimshaw of cockroach
A human skull carved with a dense pattern of fine lines.
A humble little cockroach.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
Its bone plates are a polished ivory with a deep sheen.


| | }{| |   Aft Vacuum Bag (Our Lady of Faggots) 4:59pm
| | }{| |   Here exists a calamity of oil paint and viscera.  It's layered
| | ()| |   thickly on the walls and drooling a stinking mess on the
| | | | |   cherry-flavored floor.  The mural is unmistakably of Zardoz, his
| | | | |   face an intense line of judgement on the passing viewer.  Clenched
           fists, scaly shoulders, and a wild gaze are repeated over and
 over, reproducing his characteristic tremble and shake.  Furious red surrounds
 his head and leaks onto his hide, reeking strongly of fresh blood.  Some small
 stone benches and potted poppy sit in this room, somehow untouched by fluid. 
 The catwalk continues to the fore of the vessel.  A spiral staircase leads down
 to the storage cabin. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  The preserved severed head of Zardoz is
 hanging on the wall.  A crankomat machine is set up here.  A golden statue of
 God of the Abom Nation devouring his freak son is standing here. 


[ Exits:  north(fore)  > down  +in(closet door) ]

golden statue of God of the Abom Nation devouring his freak son
A crouching Zardoz digging claws and fangs into the body of a traitorous 
hideous freak. The remorse in his expression is overtaken by duty and drugs.
It's a good piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
[ You gained fetish points in authority! ]
I see no "crako" here.

crankomat
A glass-bulb gumball type vending machine of fake ornate brass. It's closed.
A palmpad is set into a panel above the door handle.
You see a plain wooden door.
The closet door is closed.


| | | | |   father's closet (Our Lady of Faggots) 5:08pm
| | | | |   A cacophony of technicolor faux fur assaults your eyes.  Collaged
| | ()| |   onto the wood-panelled walls are dozens of fursuits, resembling
| | | | |   all flavor of beast and creature.  Interspersed between them sit
| | | | |   psychedelic blacklight posters of abomination forms contained
           within various fursuits, engaged in ritual yiffing.  With some
 relief, you see that the neon green shag carpet underfoot remains immaculate. 
 It even smells...clean in here, albeit a bit musty. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A wolf fursuit is hanging on the wall.  A
 red ant fursuit is hanging on the wall.  A butterfly fursuit is hanging on the
 wall.  A frog fursuit is hanging on the wall.  A cthulhu fursuit is hanging on
 the wall.  A tatanka fursuit is hanging on the wall.  A bedtime bear fursuit is
 hanging on the wall.  A spider fursuit is hanging on the wall.  An owlman
 fursuit is hanging on the wall.  There is an armor dummy standing here, hanging
 a fishsuit.  There is an armor dummy standing here, hanging a tiger fursuit.  A
 lava lamp sits here, wax slowly trickling up and down in blobs.  A
 Mitsugatosanwi Tech stereo is against the wall here. 
You see a sculpture of Sacred Yiffing on the floor.

[ Exits:  out(closet door) ]
Wax slowly undulates at the bottom of the lava lamp and trickles to the top in a 
little bubble, landing and smoothing out before forming another bubble 
headed downwards.

sculpture of Sacred Yiffing
An abomination clad in fox fursuit forcibly mounted on top of another abomimation 
in a mouse fursuit. The mouse bears its teeth and digs its claws into its aggressor. 
They are both dusted in coke.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
[ You gained fetish points in fur! ]
It's made of hard-fired deep brown synthetic clay.
The closet door swings shut.
dezpereaux opens the closet door.
You head through the closet door.


| | []| |   Storage Cabin (Our Lady of Faggots) 5:16pm
| | []| |   A surprisingly clarified space.  The walls here are all wet ivory,
| | ()| |   the pulse of the candles here force it alive and breathing.  Some
| | \/| |   large-scale linework of freak figures dance around the white
| | | | |   expanse, reminiscent of the work on the Villa Santo.  Rows of
           walnut bookshelves line stark against the walls, pregnant with
 pages of feverish nonsense, or the occasional ordinary schematic.  Some metal
 benches accompany them.  Waxy drippings and white paint make obscene pools on
 the brown tile. 
 A plush suede recliner sits against the wall. 
 The walls open up to the fore of the ship, leading to the passenger cabin.  A
 narrow spiral staircase leads up to the vacuum bags. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A sculpture of DeadKnight is hanging on
 the wall.  The heavy oak bookshelf towers over the room.  A chalkboard hangs on
 the wall. 


[ Exits:  north(fore)  south(aft)  < up ]
From the fore, you hear a faint door latch.


| | []| |   Engine Room (Our Lady of Faggots) 5:21pm
| | []| |   Depicted on the walls of the engine room are hideous freaks and
| | ()| |   abominations clamored together, arms outstretched to the blessed
| | | | |   Abominatrix whose intimidating, muscular figure overtakes the
| | | | |   central section of the mural.  In their hands are offerings of
           limbs and innards that she regards with a toothsome grin.  Actual
 gore is piled onto a tall, white marble altar alongside burning candles, the
 wax and light of which glisten off the carnage.  Withering rose petals are
 scattered on the altar and white tiling, but these only add to the stink of
 death. 
 There is a preserved heap of entrails and a preserved heart on the long table. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A pedestal of four angels holding up a
 preserved massive ovaries is sitting here.  A sculpture of the Abominatrix is
 hanging on the wall. 
You see four rose blossoms on the floor.

[ Exits:  north(fore) ]
A horrible stench permeates your nostrils. [ Server checkpointed. ]

wall mount
A wall mount with hooks.
Misc:
  a sculpture of the Abominatrix [800g]
Hung on the wall mount, you see:
A towering, heavily muscled abomination. Her hide is a thick, scaly green with 
weird patches of pink flesh. Her eyes are a vile, rabid yellow. Claws jut 
out from all three (three) of her hands. 
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
[ You gained fetish points in religion! ]
It's made of hard-fired deep brown synthetic clay.


| | | | |   father's shower (Our Lady of Faggots) 5:27pm
| | | | |   The shower room is consumed and bruised by stormy blue tiling
| | ()| |   marbled with black tendrils of glaze.  In this darkness it is
| | | | |   difficult to discern the figure of the deep one abomination
| | | | |   carefully assembled in the tiles, the "head" of which sits as a
           mosiac of tentacle and teeth behind a pedestal bearing its actual
 giant, greasy eye.  Several obsidian-colored faucets line themselves high above
 the eye, extensions of the abomination's tentacled form.  Bleach flavors the
 air sharp, though it is unable to cut through the decay buried deep in the
 grout and rust. 
 The shower is off. 
 An old fashioned cast iron bathtub is here, resting on ornate cast iron claw
 feet. 
 A pedestal of four angels holding up a preserved giant eyeball is sitting
 here.  The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A sculpture of the massive deep
 one abomination is hanging on the wall. 
You see a filled jerrycan of bleach on the floor.

[ There are special commands here.  'ex here' to learn more. ]

wall mount
A wall mount with hooks.
Misc:
  a sculpture of the massive deep one abomination [800g]
Hung on the wall mount, you see:
A huge mass of tentacled arms, eyes and teeth, bigger by far than its normal 
deep one peers. It quivers, flails its tentacles, and gibbers madly 
in a watery tongue.
It's a heartbreakingly gorgeous piece of work.
It's signed by the artist - father.
[ You gained fetish points in tentacles! ]
It's made of hard-fired deep brown synthetic clay.


| | /\| |   Passenger Cabin (Our Lady of Faggots) 5:34pm
| | []| |   Entering this wide open mouth of titanium and skin feels like a
| | ()| |   mistake.  It groans under its own weight like a gluttonous child
| | []| |   and even has the sticky, fleshy smell of one.  The dark, nearly
| | \/| |   black paint that coats the hull would be all consuming if not for
           the rows of ever-burning candles, secured onto wooden planks with
 nails.  Flickering light reveals fresh, though faint paintings of hideous
 freaks against the ruined Necropolis skyline.  Some shredded tapestries of abom
 nation heroes decorate the walls, though none of the clawing dares mar the
 actual figures.  The cool ceramic tiling underfoot is an ambiguous brown,
 though what's more notable is the blood and acid splattered against it and the
 scores of skulls piled together.  Oh, and there's a lovely little welcome mat,
 too. 
 A narrow passage to the fore leads to the galley.  The walls narrow to the aft,
 leading to the storage cabin. 
 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A sculpture of Hellboy is hanging on the
 wall.  A corrosive pike is hanging on the wall. 
You see lots of scrimshaws of consumption and lots of scrimshaws of a baby on the floor.

[ Exits:  north(fore)  south(aft)  in(shower door)  +in(freezer door)  +out(exit hatch) ]


Through the peephole, you see:

| | | | |   father's freezer (Our Lady of Faggots) 5:34pm
| | | | |   A freezer converted into a nursery, for some reason.  The walls are
| | ()| |   sweet pea green, the green of baby vomit and sickness.  And on
| | | | |   these walls is delicate and detailed linework of innumerable bugs
| | | | |   - moths, centipedes, spiders, beetles, locusts.  The floor is plush
           white carpet, some areas matted down with stains of an assortment
 of colors.  There are stocky, plastic shelves with books and toys, all coated
 in a thin layer of frost.  Some little preserved organs, perhaps pertaining to
 a dissected fetus, dangle on strings across the room.  And then there's the
 star, a beautiful and very much dead chestburster laying so still, so quietly
 in a white crib. 

 The walls are covered with wallpaper.  A pedestal of four angels holding up a
 chestburster is sitting here.