peckenpaugh | HE IS HERE

Entry tags:

! ic/ooc,
* endgame

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

Tony is far too big to fit under anything in this caravan, including door frames, so he braces one hand on his ceiling and tries to put as much of his body between the quivering lights overhead and the frozen form of Lark Pletcher. He doesn't want a repeat of Lunchlady Bigfoot's memory.

"Felicity says it looks kinda like a snakey boy," Tony adds unhelpfully.

Edited 2020-06-04 02:06 (UTC)

As Armani locates the snakey boy on the map, another of those tremors begins. Through the windows, Imogen and Tony can see the sky itself, now filled with recognizable constellations instead of the jumbled misrememberings of a six-year-old, seem to lower. The darkness and the stars floating through it now seem within reach. At the same time, that strange dragging sound resumes and suddenly a vine whips against the window. While it doesn't break through, its intentions are clearly less than friendly. A similar sound can be heard at the caravan's door. A dragging, followed by a thwack! that makes the wood shudder.

Edited 2020-06-04 02:13 (UTC)

Armani yelps as the caravan is hit, shrinking further back under the table. He looks up at Imogen and Tony pleadingly. He is just a baby, a little astrology gay, and he doesn't have a wand. Please save him.

Edited 2020-06-04 02:19 (UTC)

Fortunately for Armani, Tony De Witt was never a baby. He came into this world a fully grown man. Unfortunately for Armani, Tony De Witt doesn't understand the rules of these alternate memory universes and he is far more concerned about the safety of Merlin and Kes outside all alone than he is about the Thorntrail.

Without much thought, he turns and kicks open the door in an attempt to smash the offending vine into the side of the caravan.

Edited 2020-06-04 02:38 (UTC)

Imogen, meanwhile, turns to look at Armani with thrill.

"Oh shit," she hisses gleefully. "There was one of these at the bowling alley. Don't worry, we totally fucked 'em up."

They'd turned a bookshelf over on that one. So. Either these suckers aren't that hard to kill, or it's easy to make them give up.

She points her wand at the window without warning, hoping to shatter the glass outward and use the empty pane as cover. "Finestra!"

The vine on the opposite side of the door isn't prepared for this sudden assault and shrieks as it is violently crushed behind the door. (ROLLED 7) While not killed, Tony can see how bent and broken it is as it snaps back into the cover of the caravan gardens.

On the opposite side of the caravan, the glass on the receiving end of Imogen's Finestra shatters silently, raining glass shards down on the vine, but it ducks away too quickly to receive any real damage from the strike. (ROLLED 3). It too disappears back into dense foliage, difficult to see but no longer invisible now that they know to look for it. A large purple flower begins to bloom near the shattered window.

Outside, everything else (including Merlin and Kes) remains still.

Edited 2020-06-04 02:56 (UTC)

Imogen has a strong urge to set the flower on fire. Instead, she turns to Armani again.

"Bring the chart, let's go!" She's half the way across the caravan and after Tony before pausing to add, "The sky got lower."

Tony leaps out of Imogen's way, pressing his broad shoulders against the caravan door to keep any creeping vines trapped flat. With his left arm, he reaches out for anything even remotely sharp-looking and lands on a trowel stuck deep in a potted plant.

"C'mon, Armani, I got you," he shouts back, standing guard at the door.

Edited 2020-06-04 16:37 (UTC)

Everything that was keeping the vines out and him safe has been busted (deliberately!!!) by his companions. This is terrifying. But, also, so are they. In spite of it all, he still feels like he's in good hands.

"Coming!"

The baby skitters out from under the safety of the table, star chart in hand, and grabs a chef's knife from the kitchen sink on his way out the door.

As Armani passes by Tony, something behind the door gives a violent push that rocks the giant forward on his heels but ultimately can't move him. (ROLLED 7)

Good call, Tony.

Not really sure what else to do, Armani holds the star chart up to the sky and looks for the snakey boy.

Draco is readily visible in the low-hanging sky, a scattering of vibrant lights hovering almost directly over the caravan and the tree it rests beside. Looking at them gives Armani a faint feeling of warm comfort.

Edited 2020-06-04 17:43 (UTC)

After moment's looming over Armani's shoulder to read, Imogen reaches out, tracing the constellation in the air with her finger.

"Cool."

Armani looks at Draco, looks at the tree, and the caravan next to it. "I think maybe we have to touch the stars?" And by we, he means y'all.

Tony's, like, eight or nine feet tall. He can probably reach them.

Edited 2020-06-04 18:16 (UTC)

"Ohhhh."

Imogen nods, like Armani's just proposed something totally ground-breaking. The idea seems to have injected some giddy color in her face.

"Like, climb that tree? I can totally climb that tree." She's dragged herself up higher things before, just to write her name on some challenging piece of scenery.

She looks at Tony, then lunges toward the trunk and starts scrambling up.

Edited (last edit i promise lmfao) 2020-06-04 19:21 (UTC)

Alas, Tony is just a measly six feet ten inches, which isn't quite tall enough to touch the stars. Even magically lowered ones. Scaling the tree seems the best bet and he doesn't doubt Imogen's abilities for a second but ...

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up," Tony waves Armani further away from the caravan and watches Imogen start to climb with the same resigned but manageable dread that he often feels when interacting with Felicity. Something is about to go poorly but he'll be able to handle it, so long as he knows it's coming. It's the same way he feels about broom sports, honestly.

Man, he wishes Pax were here.

"Just watch for vines," he warns, stretching to come nearer to the tree while still keeping the toe of one dress shoe pressed against the open caravan door.

Tony is right to be cautious. As soon as Imogen starts for the tree, the vines hidden within Mrs. Pletcher's garden begin to move and the foliage that's still obscuring them begins to rustle. First faintly. Then violently.

One of the vines lashes out like a snake, making a grab for the girl and catching her by the leg with a grip that's painfully tight. (ROLLED 3) With this firm hold, it immediately begins trying to yank her from the branches. The vine trapped behind the door also begins to move again, this time striking out with enough force to send Tony sprawling. (ROLLED 1) This is...probably a novel experience for him. The vine has now sprouted three purple flowers, all dangerously close to blooming.

Edited 2020-06-05 00:53 (UTC)

"No, no, no!" Armani shouts as he runs in to the fray, wielding his knife. So much for staying back. He grabs the blooming vine with his free hand and tries to cut it, which he hopes will stop all three attached flowers from blooming and sprinkling their cursed baby dust everywhere.

Edited 2020-06-05 01:00 (UTC)

Imogen curses, pulling herself upward with brute strength in an effort to out-tug the vine.

She risks letting go with her wand hand, aiming at the heart of the garden in a hopeful offensive.

"Impedimenta!"

Edited (ya girl forgot some stuff ) 2020-06-05 03:13 (UTC)

Well, shit. Tony puts his empty hand out to break his fall. Immediately upon impact, he knows he's dislocated his right shoulder. It's not the first time. He lets out a whuff of air and hurls the trowel into Mrs. Pletcher's garden with a force that can only stem from anger but otherwise doesn't call out.

Armani's knife cuts deep, nearly slicing all the way through the thick vine. (ROLLED 9) The creature unleashes a shrill cry and thrashes, its flowers pulsating and attempting to push themselves open to unleash a burst of pollen. But that doesn't happen. Instead, the vine drops, falling still and leaking its ichor into the grass. The flowers wilt harmlessly.

The spell that Imogen fires into the caravan garden also hits its mark. (ROLLED 8) While the vine doesn't release its grip on her leg, it becomes sluggish and ceases pulling and seems somehow disoriented. If there is anything else hiding in the garden, it does not emerge and the foliage goes still. The vine is now more like a heavy manacle than anything else. But it won't stay that way for long.

Edited 2020-06-05 03:53 (UTC)

Baby's first kill! What a rush!!

The polite thing would be to help Tony up, but Tony would probably want him to help Imogen. Armani's not really thinking about what's polite, though, mostly kill it kill it kill it as he charges toward the next vine to help cut Imogen free.

"Yeahhhhh!" Imogen cheers, like this is a Quidditch game and Armani just did something really cool.

She shakes and kicks her foot urgently, doing her best to pull up and away as he attacks.

Initially, the vine is able to hold onto Imogen's leg, but her violent twisting and kicking eventually overwhelms the enervated plant and she's able to slip away. Below her, Armani lands several frantic but shallow blows to the vine...before the blade becomes embedded in it and the handle breaks off in his hand. (ROLLED 4). It's just a kitchen knife, after all.

The still-sluggish vine twists and writhes, slowly turning toward its new target.

Ah, yes, the approval he craves!! From a cool older girl!!! He is thriving!!!

"Keep going!" he calls up to her, feeling very cool and brave in this moment despite being left holding only a knife handle. He drops it and hops a step back, pulling his obsidian pendant from his neck and spinning it around by its chain.

Obsidian is a protective stone. And now it's an ass whoopin' stone.

He swings at the vine with it, hoping to wrap it around so he can strangle it and cut through it with the chain.

HE IS HERE

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

Re: MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye - COMPLETE

MEMORY: Saying Goodbye - COMPLETE