peckenpaugh | HE IS HERE

the vines have run wild

it's over Everything is in shambles. Walls and floors torn and broken from roots and branches sprouting through. They block doors and crowd passages and pulse with sick life. The Thing sits in the center of it all, angry and starving, its trunk both still and moving in ways you catch only when it is in the corner of your vision. Branches that look less like bark and more like skin stretch in every direction, lush with shadowy leaves and dotted with bits of glowing blue. The ruined floor is littered with those little twinkling dots. Seeds. Everywhere, seeds. They hang on boughs, and rest on banisters in the upper levels. The one thing in this nightmare that doesn't radiate that awful, pervasive hunger.

The roof is gone, replaced with a writhing canopy of shadow and muck. Some parts of it are complex spiderwebs of tendrilly shapes, others solid formless movement. The only consistent thing about it is that it is terrible to behold, faintly nauseating to look at for too long. Ash rains down between gaps in its branches, and what glimpses of sky are visible are nothing but swirling gray clouds. What stars still shine are magic, man-made, floated between balconies by prom committee before the dance.

Those remaining begin to stir. Each one of you has heard Pocket's words, "Find the roots." And if you want to save your friends, your family, the holler — hell, maybe even the world — that's exactly what you're going to do.

You climb from protective cocoons of dying moss, push your way past walls of solid ice, emerging into utter destruction. Things move and make noise at the edge of your vision, but for now, at least, all is calm. What to do? Where to start?

it's ruined Among the twinkling maple seeds are the dropped possessions of students and staff, lost when they were pulled away. A compact mirror, a cell phone, a pair of glasses, cups of punch spilling across the floor. A single red heel sits at the edge of the jagged pit that peers down into the Sorting Path. The air here is hot. Too hot. If you jump, you'll surely be boiled alive.

Though locked when everyone tried to flee, vines and roots have torn the doors to the auditorium off their hinges. The splintered remains of heavy oak doors litter the entrance halls and stairwell alcoves, leaving an open path outside. Not that you'd want to flee, by the looks of it.

A cool night breeze is the only relief from the growing heat of the auditorium, yes, but even that is tainted by the heavy scent of flowers. Outside, vines and purple flowers have exploded over every surface. They climb up lamp posts, engulf buildings whole, hang from trees. It would be beautiful if it weren't horrifying. Campus is unrecognizable.

there is no hope Roots and vines clog the way to the Sorting Path, and most stairwells are completely obstructed by the growths of that horrible tree. Up above, something buzzes and wails, a mockery of a cicada's cry, and beyond that the twittering of birds nesting in the tree's highest branches.

Pouch coalesces in the middle of it all, a one-winged magimagicicada, weak and weary but undaunted. Resolute, if not reinvigorated. He bends down to touch a seed, and the moment his obsidian fingers light on it, a blue-white portal to somewhere else rips right through reality. A memory begins to play. Somehow, the bug seems to know what he's seeing.

She gave us what we need, the one who ran says to the gathered students, his voice in their heads as much as the air. Let's all not let her down, huh?

Find your friends. Find my siblings. It's time to fight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The fish knife comes free, but now there's two. And the one in Uriah's hand is glowing at the edges. Huh. Is that right?

Uriah has found this memory's linchpin! Keep an eye on that thing.

Presley puts up his hands and takes a step back. "This nightmare is not a collaborative effort, Hatfield. You can—oh." He recognizes that weird glow. If this is anything like his previous jaunt, then they should find the exit... somewhere. Presley looks around, frowning.

What comes out of his mouth next has nothing to do with Dr. Huang's traumatic fish girl memory. "...Have you seen Webberley or Savage?"

"Neat," Uriah remarks about the glowing knife, turning it over in admiration, taking in the strange light. When Presley brings up their friends, Uriah's mood shifts. He puts the knife away.

"Nope." He tries to sound casual, but it comes out way too tight. "You worried about them?" he asks, as though he isn't.

Presley looks away for a second, not wanting to answer the question. "Tang, O'Malley and Deverill are all accounted for. I mean, they're all likely lighting something on fire or terrorizing someone, but they're here—" He twirls a finger in the air. "—like us."

That's five out of ten. Presley studies Uriah, who wears an uncommonly serious expression. "What about, ah... Zettler...?"

Suddenly, everything unsticks, the memory lurching forward around the two boys.

Dr. Huang carefully avoids fish guts as he walks toward the girl, but there’s too much splatter. “Why don’t you bring the sheet a little closer to me?” he asks, then turns his head back to Ms. Kwan and Miss Paradise. “You know, I’m—I’m actually quite talented at Arithmancy as well, if you need—”

“Oh, you’ll have to take that up with Ms. Altizer,” Kwan answers, and her smile seems… mischievous. “And she’s not terribly likely to give it up without a fight.” She flexes her arm and Dr. Huang gulps.

“She cheats, too,” Miss Paradise tags on. Dr. Huang turns back to the girl dragging her pile of fish innards over to him. As she tugs the sheet, something else appears where it once was: a black metal hatch with a heavy iron ring, flush with the floor and smeared with fish blood.

[MEMORY COMPLETE. 6 replies completed, linchpin acquired. You may continue to thread here or move back to Peckenpaugh through the portal!]

Presley's question sends a pang of regret through Uriah's heart that he wants to smother very badly. Suffocate it, lock it away, throw it out. It's a stupid thought to want Tybalt around right now, and until Presley mentioned him Uriah had done a good job not thinking it. He tries to remember the last time he spoke to Tybalt, but can't, because it was so mundane and uninteresting.

"Dunno, probably with his friends," Uriah mumbles, pretending to be too busy with the hatch that was just revealed. "Let's get out of here."

"Right," Presley sighs. "No time to stop." He follows Uriah to the hatch. "And do not touch me while we're in there, you still reek of fish."

Presley and Uriah completed the memory "Something Fishy"!

Upon emerging from the memory out into the auditorium, the portal snapped shut behind them.

Elsewhere in the auditorium, Dr. Huang and sap, a magimagicicada were freed.

Presley and Uriah each earned 5 Tokens for completing the memory!

They earned an additional 2 Tokens for locating the linchpin on the fourth tag!

You can check your token totals in Pouch's shop here, and maybe see if there's anything worth grabbing while you're there!

HE IS HERE

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

MEMORY: Something's Fishy