HE IS HERE

[peckishmods]

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.

but you'll keep going, won't you?

TO ELSEWHERE
| TO OUTSIDE | TO THE UPPER LEVELS | TO THE SORTING PATH |

IN THIS HUB
| ARE YOU THERE? |
| AT THE BASE OF THE TREE | A POCKET OF SAFETY |
| BACKSTAGE | THE DANCE STUDIO |

OOC POSTS
| OOC ACTION HUB | OOC CHATTER - QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS |

Comments

AT THE BASE OF THE TREE

[peckishmods]

Fallen prom decor, personal effects and parts of the auditorium, itself make the once flat, clear auditorium floor difficult terrain. All over seeds from the horrible tree are scattered. Memories to be opened. People to be freed.

Where the dance floor was, there is now a tree. Something like a tree. An awful imitation that seems to struggle against its new, solid form. It wants so badly to move, to lurch forward, lash out and eat and eat and eat. You can feel that hunger, that greed, in the marrow of your bones. But something is holding it back. Something holds it in place. Something is making sure that you have time.

Don't waste it.

ENCOUNTER: From Above

[peckishbeings]

Dazed students are still wandering the wrecked prom dance floor when the branches overhead begin to rustle, crack, snap and pop. The air feels dense, heavy with the weight of something horrible. Above, it seems there is only that writhing mass of not-quite-tree. But no. Look close. There's something there. Something not like the rest.

It falls.

Thunk, crack, thud, splat.

The Horror splayed out on the floor before you looks a bit like someone's dropped a plate of spaghetti bolognese from fifty foot up—and by the smell, two week old bolognese. The pile of meat is still, just a moment, then it twitches. Tremors from the middle to its disgusting wormy ends, until it rears up, tendrils unfurled, looking for something to eat.

THIS CREATURE IS AGGRESSIVE. DEFEND YOURSELF:
<b>NAME:</b> Who is attacking? <b>WHAT DO THEY DO?:</b> Describe in 1 - 2 sentences what your character is attempting. Mention if they're using a special item!

[Please be sure to check in with your inventory before participating in this first encounter. Thank you!]

ENCOUNTER: From Above

[bigbruise]

NAME: Imogen Rainwater
WHAT DO THEY DO?: She's taking mega-beater swings with a floorboard at any nearing tendrils.

ENCOUNTER: From Above

[crowhop]

NAME: Mary Grace O'Malley
WHAT DO THEY DO?: Mary Grace takes the shredded strip of her formal skirt and tries to trap as many of these stank ass meat tendrils with it as possible. If rooming with Wyatt Webberley has taught her one thing, it's how to handle food smell.

ENCOUNTER: From Above

[fratsquatch]

NAME: Tony De Witt
WHAT DO THEY DO?: Tony takes a flimsy, wooden chair from what was once the refreshments area and mercilessly beats this especially UNrefreshing meat wad with all of his brute beater strength.

ENCOUNTER: From Above

[quidditched]

NAME: Eddy
WHAT DO THEY DO?: Eddy grabs a dinosaur head that looks suspiciously like Barney's (not historically accurate!) and swings with, uh, athletic noodle strength. Anything near his feet get stomped on hard.

ENCOUNTER: From Above

[andpoke]

NAME: Audrey
WHAT DO THEY DO?: Blind with a rare fury, she picks up and flings whatever even sort of sharp debris she can find. Glass shards. Plastic forks and knives. Her queen tiara, probably.

ENCOUNTER: From Above - IT ATTACKS!

[peckishbeings]

The Horror shakes and whips and grows, its core bubbling like chili in a cauldron. It lashes out.

• IMOGEN manages to just barely avoid another tendril snap.


• MARY GRACE neatly dodges a clump of worms aiming for her feet.


• TONY's sleeve rips when a tendril drags across his right upper arm. Then, warm and wet feeling, red, and sharp pain. Somehow, these things can cut.


• EDDY puts his bendy skills to work, ducking a swinging tentacle like it's nothing.


• Audrey sees the tendril coming her way, but can't duck the wooden floorboard it tosses in her direction. She takes a piece of wood to the face, sustains a cut to the forehead.

ENCOUNTER: From Above - COMPLETE

[peckishpeople]

From the auditorium's front entrance, two familiar figures appear.

In great sweeping strides, Ludwig Lukashenko sprints into the room, mustache still magnificent, his wand arm extended.

"GLACIUS!" shouts the former teacher, in his instantly unrecognizable, definitely not Quebecois accent.

One spray of ice blankets the Horror. Then another as Lukashenko shouts, "GLACIUS!" again. Then, like a blur, something leaps.

Bub.

The school's groundskeeper crashes into the frozen monster, and for a few moments, from what you can see, he is anything but human. Moving too fast to really be seen, he effectively disassembles the pile of frozen, rotting meat.

ENCOUNTER: From Above - Tokens!

[peckishmods]

• Imogen, Mary Grace, Tony, Eddy and Audrey all receive 5 tokens each for contributing to the Horror's demise.


• Audrey receives 1 bonus token for Sailor Mooning her Prom Queen tiara like true royalty.

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

MEMORY: First Kiss?

[peckishmods]

[UNMODERATED]
[CRITERIA: Max 2 Player Characters (due to size constraints), 6 Replies to Complete]

A feeling of mortification pervades this tiny pantry and the memory owner looks everywhere but their smooch partner, whose lips are overly puckered and glistening wet in the single, swinging overhead pantry light. It's even more dramatic with everything black and white like it is. Oh, seven minutes in heaven is always a mistake.

The memory owner takes inventory of the pantry as they lean away from their kissing partner. The walls are well stocked with real apples and waxy oranges, pears that are just a little too big, cherries in colors that cherries shouldn't come in sit in neat little piles just below boxes and boxes and boxes and boxes (and boxes and boxes, stretching up so many shelves) of colorful marshmallow cereals. That one has a clown on the front, this one features Pocket. There's one with a pirate that looks like Bruno Ellerby, advertising authentic pizza flavor. There's another that just says "DOGS" on the front in black impact font. On the opposite wall from all that are the pyramids. Literal pyramids, of all different sizes. A cardboard cut out of a whole cow leans against one wall, and the memory owner is pretty sure that bovine face is taunting them. There's a string of garlic hanging from the ceiling, and the memory owner is pretty sure they can smell it. Or is that their kissing partner's breath? Eugh. Lean away, lean away, lean away. Their partner moves closer and closer.

The memory owner hits the door. Something rattles. Everything freezes.

MEMORY: First Kiss?

[arisahn]

Stepping into this scene is awkward...but not as awkward as being the kid with their back currently pressed against a closed door and trying to escape a (maybe?) garlic-kiss. Aris blinks dumbly as everything goes still, uttering a bright but uncertain laugh as he asks Armani, "Should we...be here, do you think? It's sorta..."

He doesn't seem to know how to finish the thought, but answers his own question by shaking his head. The seed sent them here for a reason, right? They're here for the others, right? His dark eyes scan the room thoughtfully and he reaches out to touch the cereal box with Pocket on it. Any ideas here, Party Bug?

MEMORY: Tots

[peckishmods]

[MODERATED]
[CRITERIA: solve the puzzle]
Tots, tots, tots, tots, is that all kids care about these days? The hulking, furry arms of a lunchlady of Sasquatch heritage slams the freezer door open with too much force. A clipboard hanging on the door swings hard from side to side then clatters to the floor, and Lunchlady Bigfoot says something nasty in her native language as she yanks a cart in after her. The U-cart, piled high with cardboard boxes, rolls to a stop on the clipboard.

"Trrrrrry to diverrrrrrsify theirrrrr palates," Lunchlady Bigfoot growls, snatching a freezer-burned box of nuggets from the cart and chucking it straight at the shelf. The seams buckle as it hits the wall. "They just want mooorrrre taterrrrrs." She grabs another box and throws it into place, then another, and another. The first crumples under the impact, spilling plastic bags of nuggets all over the floor, but the lunchsquatch doesn't seem to notice.

"If I everrrrr see a box of TOTS again, I'll—" Lunchlady Bigfoot halts midsentence, cardboard container of potato wedges in one hand, wound up and ready to drive that box on home. She doesn't seem to notice the stack of boxes teetering precariously on the shelf just above her head.

MEMORY: Tots

[fratsquatch]

A sudden wave of guilt washes over Tony. He never knew that Lunchlady Bigfoot felt so strongly about tater tots. He'd just been trying to impress Fred when he donned those booty shorts. The sight of his massive, pasty thighs parading around the cafeteria in Tater Thot Protest had probably come across as a slight to her culinary prowess.

"Aw, I'm sorry, L—" He pauses, looks over his shoulder for help from Jupiter or Trudy and finds none. "...or...raine?" he guesses. Gosh, he don't even know her name. Fortunately (and curiously) Lunchlady Bigfoot doesn't seem to notice.

MEMORY: New Kitchen

[peckishmods]

[MODERATED: PLAYER MEMORY]
[CRITERIA: Max 3 Players (due to space constraints), defeat NPC]

Wizard kitchens are so weird. You open a cabinet, and the space inside is bigger than the kitchen, itself. How many cans of baked beans does one man really need? Apparently a lot. There's rows and rows of them, stretching back almost infinitely.

"Dad, this is going to go bad before you eat it all," says a young Winter Carmichael, no less frank in her opinion for being just thirteen years old.

Steve Carmichael hums an 'iunno' while shoving frosted flakes into his mouth from a rainbow bowl. Really, he should be eating beans. Why on earth did he buy so many beans?

This galley kitchen is small (smaller than the damn cabinets, that's for sure). Narrow enough that it's hard for two people to stand side by side and get much done, but it's just about right for a dad and his almost teenaged daughter taking their first steps into a more permanently magical life. Not everything's been set out yet, but the important things are here: the plates, the glasses, some pans and a skillet. The knife block's got the one knife they use in it, and the sharpener, too. There are potted plants everywhere, which is nice. Green life hanging from baskets, flowers on the table, creeping vines climbing up the wall. A pothos makes a curtain for the window above the sink. Outside, the town of Elflock Falls, and beyond that, the very tops of the largest buildings at good old Peckenpaugh.

Mr. Carmichael is tucked against the wall, leaning against the stove, a bowl in one hand and spoon in the other. A gallon of milk sits on the peeling veneered counter beside him (why can't he put the milk away when he's done?). The slight smile he points at his daughter is both full of both sugar corn cereal and care, like he's trying very hard not to taint his daughter's opinion of their new home with his own reactions.

"And we really don't need a fridge?" Winter asks, uncertain.

Steve Carmichael shakes his head, "Nah, I mean. We can, honey, but with magic you can just pop your food in any box so long as it's got freezing charms."

"What the shit," Winter replies, bewildered.

Steve Carmichael nods at his thirteen-year-old daughter, head bobbing up and down animatedly. "I know."

A phone rings somewhere. A black rotary phone, sitting on the counter near Winter. Very loud. She ignores it.

"I have my own room? They don't put that in a box, do they?" she asks.

Steve Carmichael laughs. "Yeah, kiddo, you got your own room."

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Winter tips her head to the side. "And I don't have to go back home anymore...?"

Everything freezes.

Except for that phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring.

Ring.

MEMORY: Getting Sorted

[peckishmods]

[MODERATED]
[CRITERIA: defeat NPC]

Everything whips by at high speed, around and around and around in biiiig big circles. It's too fast, it's way too fast, but the tiny guy in the speeding shoe can't stop it. He hasn't been able to stop it for so long and now he's going to die here in this—this rock home under the school.

It's hard to pick out many details as the muscheron test pilot shoots past. He can hear water trickling nearby, but he can't find it and doesn't know if maybe he should find it. There's sun, and even though there's some kind of flowers and grass and maybe even some bugs here, it definitely can't be real sun all the way down down down here. Four doors zip by every few minutes, one of them glowing brightly with big big very big words written over the top. The muscheron can only make out the one that says "grow". Ohhhhh what a confusing room!! Why does it exist??

The shoe's pop-out wheel rumbles along a dirt path, narrowly avoiding a maple seed. It's the eighth time this muscheron has passed by this exact maple seed, and if he doesn't stop it, there's going to be a ninth, tenth, eleventh, and just however high numbers go amount of times. Oh no, oh no. He puts his hands on either side of his mushroom head in dismay.

"Z'kay, z'kay," breathes the muscheron. He's been in this shoe for so long (how long? will he ever know? will he ever touch stationary ground again??), he has to know how to handle a little crisis.

Ducking down into the shoe, the toadstool fairy grabs hold of something solid and round tucked into the shoe, and he tugs on it. Oh, that's stuck good. He yanks, he twists, he puuuuuuulls so hard until it breaks free, and the muscheron scrambles to keep a hold on his prize: a bright yellow yo-yo.

Okay. Okay. Deep breath. The muscheron looks behind him, to the grass and flowers and mud, grabs the string and tosses the yo-yo out.

The toy clatters along the ground, skipping past a couple rocks that could have been helpful and a mud puddle that might have slowed things down, and catches on a clump of grass. The muscheron holds on tight, arms stretching back, back, back behind him, string pulled taut.

A moth flits over and lands right on his nose, and everything stops, from the movement of the shoe to the trickle of the waterfall. Everything except the flutter of wings and some kind of... chirping? somewhere in this expansive cave.

MEMORY: Just Ducky

[peckishmods]

[UNMODERATED]
[CRITERIA: 8 Replies to Complete]

First things first, there are a lot of puppies here. Big ones, small ones, young and old, some that aren’t even actually canines are gathered around Elflock Falls’ dog park, splashing in tubs and tearing through an obstacle course. And Hermes Hobgood can’t think of a better way to spend a beautiful Sunday afternoon than wandering through the gardens, surrounded by dogs, taking the occasional discreet drag from his vape.

He lingers near a trio of judges deciding just which hound wore their Harry Potter costume best. Hermes, who actually met Harry Potter at some bland fundraiser dinner a few years ago, thinks the Rhodesian ridgeback is a dead ringer, but the judges don’t seem to see it. Well, at least the bluetick getting the blue ribbon is cuter than the real deal.

Puffing on his vape, Hermes wanders toward the dog washing stations. He steps around a puddle of squonk juice and nods at Bearigold in greeting, and then—

“Ducky!” Richard Pompel’s shout is the only warning Hermes has before the enormous puppy wriggles her way out of his grasp. Hermes looks up just in time to see her hit a bucket of water, splashing innocent bystanders and students alike with suds as she scrambles over one table, then another. Ducky throws herself into the air... and freezes, those oversized puppy paws just inches from Hermes’ face.

MEMORY: Something's Fishy

[peckishmods]

[UNMODERATED]
[CRITERIA: 6 replies total]

The smell hits first. An overpowering, choking, fishy smell that permeates everything, and it doesn’t take long to find the source. In the middle of what is unmistakably a classroom—a slightly cluttered but unremarkable classroom, with Divination charts decorating the walls—a young student has a pile of dead fish and guts spread out in front of her.

There are only a few other students in the room, throwing bones or dissociating as they stare at a foggy crystal ball. Dr. Huang stands at the doorway to the classroom, accompanied by Administrator Kwan and an unfamiliar older woman with a bright pink wig and several flowing ombre scarves.

“And this will be your classroom,” Ms. Kwan announces with a sweeping gesture to the class, but Dr. Huang is only watching the girl with the fish.

“Oh, this is—” Dr. Huang’s words catch in his throat, and he’s interrupted by the fish girl waving a knife over her head. He stares at the knife, covered in blood and guts, reddish-brownish fingerprints smeared across the handle, as juices splatter the sheet and classroom floor all around her. A visible shudder runs down Dr. Huang’s spine.

“Miss Paradise!” she calls out. “Can you help me with this omen? It doesn’t make sense.”

The older woman smiles at Dr. Huang and nods toward the girl. “Don’t you want to show your stuff?”

MEMORY: Mr. The Dude

[peckishmods]

[MODERATED]
[CRITERIA: Minimum 16 replies to completion]

"Kyle, hurry up!" Four girls sit on the floor of a dark basement, spread out on a bedsheet, a hot pink Ouija board between them. One of them, a young and cheeky-looking Dr. Quirke—Geri—waves for him to come down the stairs and join the circle. "I thought you didn’t wanna waste time."

"I said this was a waste of time," he hisses back, simultaneously hurrying down the stairs to join the circle anyway. "This place isn’t even haunted."

"We don't know that," a girl with too many butterfly clips in her hair chimes in, motioning for the circle to join her on the pink planchette in the middle of the board. "Ghosts get lost sometimes, and that rumor about meeting God had to come from somewhere."

"Oh, so that rumor last year about you and the hippogri—"

Butterfly Clips pointedly clears her throat at Kyle. "Spirits of the bowling alley," she begins, her voice suddenly much lower because of all the spiritualism in the air or something. "Is anyone here?"

There’s a long silence. The planchette sits motionless on the board. Kyle sighs. Butterfly Clips clears her throat again. "Spirits of the bowling alley. We don’t mean to scare you. Is anyone here?"

"I mean it's almost like there's no gh—" Kyle starts, but he doesn't get to finish. The planchette jerks toward YES. Geri squeaks in surprise. Butterfly Clips sticks her tongue out at Kyle.

"Do you have a name?" she continues, and it kind of seems like she’s still staring directly at Kyle. "What should we call you?"

N O N A M E
U P I C K

"I would be delighted to pick a name for you, spirit," Butterfly Clips replies, placing her free hand to her chest. "I feel a connection with you, and you feel like—"

"Maybe it's the Dude," Kyle deadpans. "Haunts a bowling alley. Room could really use a rug to pull it all together." As a senior in high school in the year 1999, Kyle fucking loves The Big Lebowski. He looks to the girls for recognition of this really great, topical reference.

It's a painful ten seconds before Geri lets out a tentative "ohhhhh" and a half laugh.

"Anyway," Butterfly Clips yanks control of the circle back to her, "what about—"

T H E D U D E T H E D U D E T H E D U D E. The planchette picks out the letters one by one, over and over, circling the board.

"I think he likes it." Kyle sounds smug. "So, Mr. The Dude, what's got you down here? Are there bodies buried in the basement?"

The planchette begins to move again, swirling around the pink spirit board. T R A—

There's a rattle from the top of the stairs. The sticky knob from the basement door. "Shit." With half a second to act, Kyle grabs the Ouija board, planchette and all, and hurls it into the darkness.

MEMORY: School of Bitchcraft & Wizardry

[peckishmods]

[UNMODERATED]
[CRITERIA: 6 Replies]

This isn't Peckenpaugh. This isn't any place you recognize. It's the inside of a castle by the looks of it. Something out of a fantasy novel. A great banquet hall with ancient stone walls and a ceiling that seems to give way to sky: magic, of course, but the clouds that roll by seem as real as if you were standing outside. Four long lines of tables each crowded with children and teens fills the bulk of this massive room.

On the walls, iron dragons hold bowls of flame, and at least two fireplaces burn bright. That's not the only light source here, though. Overhead, hundreds of candles float and flicker, warm and eerie at once.

The air is sweet with the smell of baked goods and sugar, and the children are already well engaged in eating what looks like breakfast: toast and beans and sausage, fried eggs and pancakes, roasted veggies, cinnamon rolls, glasses of juice and milk. It's definitely a gut bomb waiting to happen. But, oh, what a delightful smell.

Until it isn't.

Something stinks. Hot fart smell, definitely ruining the extravagance of this space. The memory's owner sweeps their gaze, back and forth, and as he takes in his surroundings looking for the source of the sudden foul smell, you catch glimpses of faces that are somehow familiar. Maybe from the news, or history books? At the far end of the hall, a number of adults are seated, including, at the center, a fellow in extravagant, vibrant robes, with a long white beard. All around, kids are starting to turn their heads, looking for what stinks.

"I think it's Percy," one red-robed redheaded pre-teen whispers to another, black haired and bespectacled, with a lightning scar on his head. (Is that...? No, it can't be.)

“Still?” asks the other, “From the stink bombs?”

The redhead nods.

The memory owner's attention snaps up from the two gossiping boys, knowing exactly where the smell is coming from.

Ah, there he is. That tosser. Freckled redhead, tall and thin and pretentious, his horn-rimmed glasses a little askew on his face. The memory owner starts walking toward him, eyes not on Percy's face, but on that badge stuck to his robes — Head Boy. Bright and shiny. Blindingly so. Jealousy flares up at the very sight of it. They picked the wrong boy.

Closer and closer the memory owner comes to this Head Boy Percy, who looks to be in a very foul mood. And just before their shoulders collide, everything freezes.

MEMORY: Lester

[peckishmods]

[MODERATED - Player Memory]
[CRITERIA: Defeat NPC]
[RESERVE: Jupiter Quigley, Claudia Vega]

Students file out of Peckenpaugh’s computer lab, in a din of animated conversation. The door swings shut and all that’s left is the dull but constant buzzing of electronics.

One student lingers. Lionel Lovelace. A year younger, as suggested by the gold-rimmed glasses that frame his face and were a staple of his junior year wardrobe. In one week’s time, they’ll be accidentally stepped on by Claudia. And Jupiter’s Reparo, cast mid-laugh, will somehow destroy them beyond repair.

From his face, you can tell he’s wrestling with something. His mouth moves, silently practicing words. A shake of his head. No, that won’t do. He mouths new words. Hm, a little better. As he rehearses, he walks down the row of computers, pushing in chairs, straightening keyboards, picking up candy wrappers, saving the occasional open, unfinished fanfic.

“Mr. Qualls,” he says suddenly. Either he’s found the perfect words or he’s given up trying. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Lionel turns and walks toward his teacher’s desk, being careful to step over a tangle of wires and a zig-zagging Roomba that was the topic of today’s lesson.

“Yes, what is it, Leon?” Mr. Qualls looks up with a smile.

“It’s Lionel.”

“What about him?”

“Nothing? What? No, I’m Lionel. I was just... correcting you.”

“What did I say?”

“You called me, Leon.”

“I’m Caleb, not Leon. And I did not call you. You came over here and said you have a question. I remember very clearly.”

“Yes. I uh-- yes I did.” Lionel sighs. Needless to say, his plan didn’t involve getting trapped in a vaudeville act with his ghost teacher.

He drops his head and finds himself staring down at Mr. Qualls desk, which at this moment is as scattered as his mind. It’s covered in writing utensils, stray batteries, a Zippy Dip gift certificate, and a GameBoy Color. Even now, amid this terrible confusion, Lionel feels a deep warmth for his teacher. He clears his throat and just asks his question. “I was wondering if you’d uh-- you’d decided yet. You know, about your TA position for next year--”

“I have indeed!”

Lionel looks up to see a delighted Mr. Qualls staring back at him. He waits a moment to see if Mr. Qualls will, you know, reveal his selection. There’s an uncomfortable silence. “Aaaand?” he nudges his teacher.

“Lester, obviously!” Mr. Qualls says with a laugh.

Lionel blinks, unsure if Mr. Qualls meant to say ’Lionel’ or if there is someone in his class named Lester who Lionel doesn’t know… which is, very possible. It’s too late to undo this entire interaction, so instead, Lionel decides to rephrase the question in a way that will hopefully avoid further confusion and let them both move on with their lives.

“Do you mean... me?”

Before Mr. Qualls can answer, the scene freezes.

ENCOUNTER: Buzzing Blanket

[peckishbeings]

Over the last few minutes, the constant noise hanging over the auditorium has gotten steadily louder. Each passing second the buzzing more difficult to ignore. Louder and louder, closer and closer, a blanket of buzzing darkness descends on the auditorium.

This isn't just a few bugs, this is a whole Swarm. So densely packed it moves like one solid entity, a bubbling cloud that bends and churns, diving aggressively toward any students not covered.

THIS CREATURE IS AGGRESSIVE. DEFEND YOURSELF:

<b>NAME:</b> Who is attacking? <b>WHAT DO THEY DO?:</b> Tell us how you're approaching this encounter!

[Any Active students may participate in this encounter! Just be sure you've checked your inventory in.]

MEMORY: Honey I Shrunk The Kids

[peckishmods]

[UNMODERATED]
[CRITERIA: minimum replies 8, reach the potato chip bag]

For a few seconds, there's nothing but darkness.

If it's true that lack of sight causes other senses to be enhanced, then that's kinda unfortunate, because the smell of old sweat hangs heavy in the air here. It's comforting. Somehow.

Light creeps in soon enough, ushered along by the sound of a zipper being pulled. Loudly. Finally an object comes into focus and it's a face. A giant face. Like, movie screen sized. Eddy Waxweiler could probably do a better job cleaning his pores and, oh– the ground is suddenly moving, up, up, fast, like an elevator, and then abruptly stopping again.

"You again," Eddy's normally soft voice booms, and large raccoon ringed eyes look directly down at the assembled.

From this vantage point, it becomes clear that this memory takes place in the dormitories. The sophomore ones, specifically, based on the arrangement of the room. School issued desks and bunks line the walls and some are kept far more fastidiously tidy than others. The nearest - presumably Eddy's - falls within the general cleaniness level of 'lived in'. A framed photo, a model of the Apollo Lunar Module, and a Fergus O'Malley poster are all intentionally placed around the desk, while school papers, a half-empty bottle of black nail polish, an unopened bag of potato chips, and a cheap ballpoint pen are scattered across the surface. Every so often one of the mothers in the photo takes a moment away from her young scuffed-up sons to shake her head in disapproval at the mess.

Far below, a now-opened mahogany and slate equipment bag full of Keeper gear sits near Eddy's feet. A small hole has been chewed through a side seam.

It's all pretty standard. Except the part where everything seems at least fifty feet tall.

Oh.

This memory belongs to a mouse. Probably the five foot tall one that just got frozen gnawing on the giant hand that everyone's perched on.

MEMORY: A Nightmare

[peckishmods]

[?UNMODERATED? - the player who wrote this memory may add some moderation at their discretion]
[CRITERIA: Minimum 3 Replies Per Character]
[RESERVE: Wildgulch Juniors]

Pitch black. Silent. Still.

Broken suddenly by the sighing of a floorboard, followed by a sharp intake of breath. A pause, as whoever is there waits to see if they’ve been heard.

“Let’s go back,” a girl whispers.

“No, it’s okay,” another girl whispers in reply. Both voices sound familiar, but without seeing their faces, you find it hard to place them exactly.

“It’s not worth it,” the first pleads.

“No one’s making you come with me.” It’s harsher than she intended -- the result of being nervous no doubt -- and in the silence that follows, you can tell the second girl regrets having said it. That she’s grateful for the first girl’s company. And after a few seconds, when it’s clear the first girl hasn’t left and isn’t going to, the second girl adds, “Thank you.”

”Lumos.” The first girl illuminates the space before them: a locked door. The second pulls out a set of keys, careful not to let any of them jingle against each other. Her hands tremble, just slightly, and you notice that her nails have been chewed down. “It’s okay,” the first girl whispers, and the words magically relax the knots in the second girl’s hands. She slides the key into the lock without a sound.

They extinguish the wand and swing the door open slowly. The light from a crescent moon filters through slatted blinds, illuminating the room in a striped pattern. The effect is like looking at a reassembled photo that’s been put through a paper shredder.

In front of them is a wholly unnatural sight. At the center of the room are beds, pushed together, atop which is an orgy of limbs, pillows, and blankets. The Wildgulch Juniors. The mass rises and falls as they dream in unison. It’s like a living, breathing island of trash in the middle of the ocean.

The two girls take a step forward and into the light. And you see them for the first time: Bear Santiago and Coriander Picquery, their faces painted in a mixture of horror and disgust. Bear looks across the room, eyes landing on a green one-piece bathing suit, draped over the back of a chair.

“It’s suicide,” Coriander whispers and we now identify her voice as the first girl from earlier.

Bear looks back at her. “It’s your birthday and I said we’d go to the hot springs.” And that’s that.

The two girls look back over the dorm. In addition to the monstrosity that is Big Bed, the room is littered with desks, which in turn are littered with an assortment of items. Textbooks, sleeping familiars, potion vials, cowboy boots, a Big Gulp, a guitar, milk that’s nearing its expiration date, a shrine to someone named Oliver, and much much more.

Bear reaches back and offers her hand to Coriander. The girl takes it and the scene freezes.

ENCOUNTER: Protect Pouch!

[peckishbeings]

Each step Pouch takes leaves frost in his wake as he moves past the angry nightmare tree toward the blocked Sorting Path door. All around, students and staff and others gather, fighting vines that descend and bugs that swarm, battling crawling things that look like spiders and churn your stomach to see.

The creatures climbing from the malignant maple seem endless, but for each new monstrosity born, another body joins the fight: Freshmen and muscheron, Rex and Beefy, those girls named Paige and Monica, the Young Specialist Aurors, Hobgood and Stirling and Lunch Lady Big Foot, together they form a wall to keep the onslaught at bay while Pouch burns right through layers and layers of vines with blasts of frost.

More beings with starlight skin and red carnelian eyes buzz in from all directions. Magimagicicada, freed and ready to fight.

"Keep finding your friends!" one shouts. "We need as much help as we can!"

You stand at the base of the nightmare tree, preparing for the final assault. Amidst a swarm of bugs, a CULTIST floats overhead, and between thrashing vines a HORROR approaches.

The Cultist and the Horror are aggressive. Defend yourself!
<b>NAME:</b> <B>TARGET?:</b> This battle features one HORROR and one CULTIST. Please indicate your target here. <b>WHAT DO YOU DO?:</b> Describe what you're trying here.