Shadowed Study (#1048)

(an instance of Generic Secured Post-Apocalypse Room made by Ibn_Khaldun)

     As you wander off the Plaza, you find yourself in a tangled maze of
     alleyways where the stone seeps grey-green fluid, and the moans of
     fevered lovers in rooms above mingles with the hissing pleas of
     crippled beggars. One alleyway beckons to you, and you find yourself
     climbing rotting wooden stairs and stumbling into a dark and open
     archway.
     
     The smell of night sweat and the faint reek of burning dagga
     come to you as you squint at the ominous clutter of this crowded
     space. Mysterious piles of papers and books surround you, threatening
     to collapse into your path at any moment, a threat given extra force
     by the presence of pungent candles burning sporadically into the dark
     from atop the piled materials. As you thread your way through the maze
     of letters, you also catch sight of carved masks, perverse statuary,
     a pile of rusted scimitars firmly embedded in the pitted wooden floor,
     the mounted skeleton of a prehistoric wombat, a broken telescope, a
     the floor plan of the Library of Alexandria, a signed portrait of
     Tamerland, a map of the time zones on the planet Mars, and a host of
     less identifiable objects cluttering every nook and cranny of the room.
     
     Near the back, you see a desk piled high with parchment pages, an
     inkwell, and a computer terminal whose screen periodically flickers to
     life only to crackle into silence moments later. Next to the desk is
     a small cot with a bedspread made from ten kente strips clumsily knitted
     together. At the foot of the cot, there are four ancient televisions
     providing an eerie digital light and propped precariously against the
     oaken wall. On the wall on the other side of the desk, there is a map
     of Africa dotted with cryptic notes and markings.

You see Map of Africa and Ibn_Khaldun here.

EXITS:
      [ ne ] Interzone Plaza.

This place has a certain ambiance...
     You hear the rapid scratching of a pen on parchment somewhere in the dark.
     The computer monitor crackles violently.
     A strong smell of dagga tickles your nostrils suddenly.
     You get the impression that someone is watching you.