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Jeff clangs something metal over the entrance, bathing the lower-level of the trash-less crack in gray. You and Arnie exchange a look of "whatever" and he opens his little toy mouth, "Uh, I hope you don't mind, I found some gunpowder in your inventory. I'm no scientist but I think it's from the sulphur, saltpeter, and charcoal jumbling around together." After helping the Rolling Head up on his neck, the three of you spread out to investigate the many exits. Most of them are fairly indistinguishable from one another . . . except for three:
  1. The passage that the crumpled mass (which you refuse to investigate) came from.
  2. A passage that smells of the ocean and sounds of people cheerfully standing in line.
  3. A passage that tastes of big words.