The moist towelette who licked the runes may know things about the runes that us humans can't. I've been trying to get it to talk to me all day, but to no avail. It seems to be shy, so we need to make sure it feels comfortable! Use moist language! Relate to it by sharing stories about times you, too, were wet! Express your radical desires for a Damp State to overthrow the tunnel's current system of government! Be considerate of the towelette's feelings, though! It might be easily overwhelmed by us, so try to seem calm and accepting.

We have much to learn from this clammy creature, and it is of grave importance that we have it on our side in the upcoming Wet Revolution.

As the previous host and companion of the moist towelette (not the owner, for "owning" a moist towelette would be akin to owning a human), I try to reminisce with it about our time together--as it laid in its pack of twelve and I tugged at the protective sheet on the packaging and gently pulled the towelette out and slowly rubbed it on the runes. Oh towelette, now covered in rune soot, do you think fondly of our time together?  Your hum to my ears is so steadfast, so purposeful, yet so comforting.

If only I could decipher it.

I start making a proposition to the moist towelette.

"Hey there moist towelette. I thought how you licked those runes that one time was really cool. I think you're one of the moistest, towel-y beings around. So I was thinking, I've got a place just 1 unit of distance west of here. It's pretty nice, it's got a water bowl and everything. Plus it's floating in an empty void, with a rope tying it to this stake in the ground. Talk about a nice view! You want to uhh, live there maybe?"

The moist towelette makes a humming noise and does a twisting motion that I'm guessing means denial. 

If only I knew how to communicate more effectively with it.

Today I caught the moist towelette humming a tune! It seems to be trying to communicate, but I can't really make out what it's saying. I don't know how long it'll keep repeating this song so I made a recording just in case.

Tried some communication experiments with the moist towelette. Reports below:

Experiment 1: Cookie crumbs.  Ate some cookies. Got crumbs on a table. The moist towelette moved toward me. Tentatively at first, then more urgently.  Suddenly, in one fell swoop, it gathered the crumbs and whisked itself away. When it came back, it was crumbless. It sort of looked at me as if I should be ashamed for making such a mess.  Truthfully, I was. 

Experiment 2: I gathered four small glasses in front of the moist towelette.  Glass A held raspberry punch. Glass B: lime punch.  Glass C:  orange punch.  Glass D: water.  The towelette absorbed the raspberry and then twisted itself in strange shapes over the water, causing some of the punch to drip away. Afterward, it laid itself on the table, flat.  Most of it was red, but the white spaces formed a word:  DOLOB.  Then, it dipped itself into the water and wrang itself out until clean.  It repeated this regiment with the lime drink, producing the word SREHF.  The orange word was NISHLUGT.  When it was done, it rinsed itself clean in the water and then performed a twisty, wavy dance while it did its telltale hum.  It stopped when it was no longer dripping wet, but appropriately moist, as a moist towelette should be.  

I wrote the words in my parchment. I'll need to find a translation.

Continuing the previous experiments, I decided today to give the moist towelette further material to absorb and react to. I've decided to conduct this experiment while the towelette is humming. Once again we have three liquids, but this time they are in petri dishes (so that it looks more scientific). Dish A: Blood. Dish B: Sweat. Dish C: Triple Action Citrus Fresh dish soap.

Dish A: The towelette threw itself directly onto the dish, completely absorbing the blood. As it twisted itself into shapes its color turned a surprisingly comforting pink. The pattern of white spaces on it seem to read "SREHF" (much to my surprise). The hum has become noticeably higher in frequency. It wrung itself out, but because I had forgotten to bring water, it only became a marbled red and pink. Then it absorbed the sweat. The towelette absolutely came alive, visibly vibrating. The hum became an outright melody. This time the pattern read "GNRONCKIE". The color did not change, although the marbled pattern became more pronounced upon re-wringing itself out.

The dish soap. Dipping a corner into this bright lime green viscous fluid, the towelette at first completely twisted itself into a spiral as it absorbed the the soap. Then, very suddenly, it flung itself wide open and spread itself flat. It seemed to go almost rigid for a second, and the vibrations stopped. The pattern read "LUIGLNTOEI". The hum, however, became something else entirely.:

Realizing my mistake of not providing the towelette with water, I scurried to find it some of the stuff and quickly brought it a full glass. As of this moment, the towelette is once again clean, but remains somewhat stiff and spread flat. It has stopped humming entirely. Although it now lays dormant, it was clearly either expressing a desire for, or foretelling the arrival of something. Something damp.

My suspicions were confirmed.

The first word from the raspberry punch was "BLOOD", and the second word, from the lime punch, was "FRESH".  This was confirmed when the towellette replied "FRESH" from being dipped in blood.  The third word, from the orange punch, translated to "SUNLIGHT".  From my previous research near the Damp Creek of Dunsmoore, I knew that fresh blood was a common meal for a certain league of creatures, and that sunlight was a way to kill them.

It seems the towellette was warning me: Here there be vampires.

I have yet to translate  GNRONCKIE and LUIGLNTOEI but I feel assured that my research will reveal these meanings shortly.

I had a look at BrandLibel's notes from the research on communication and I think I can help here:

Let's see...

The response to sweat seems to be RECKONING.

And the dish soap gave us GUILLOTINE.

I'm getting nervous about this.

The towelette has remained stiff and dormant since the last experiment. No hum, no movement, just a stiff square of towelette.  It's as if it's just waiting for something. This is all very unnerving.

It was the wine.  

At least, that's what I tell myself.  A rich, red  Merlot. I had already imbibed a few more glasses than I'll publicly admit ... and the paintbrushes I found in the drawer ... well, it all made sense at the time.  I used the paintbrushes and the wine to ask the towelette a question.  Since it was stiff and unmoving, I used it like a canvas.  I wrote a single question.  

WHY?