THE UPPER LEVELS

[peckishmods]

up into the balconies

you climb

The breathing boughs of that nightmare tree crowd into the upper balconies of the ruined auditorium. You have to duck and bend to get by them in places, sometimes through spaces that seem to grow smaller as you press through. These branches are warm to the touch, some of them uncomfortably so, pulsing with something that isn't quite life.

You've climbed these stairs more than once in your time here; to take your place after your sorting, to watch new students find their House, or perhaps just for an assembly. This building always seemed so sturdy, so safe. It was a place to go for shows, for celebrations, and hell, to just get out of class. Now, the floorboards creek precariously, split and splintering where vines have crept through. Benches are broken, overturned and tossed aside to make room for the auditorium's new king: the malignant maple. Up here, the glowing blue seeds hanging from branches are close enough to pluck. Those that have ripened litter the floor and railings, filling the balconies with an eerie blue twinkle.

The air is muggy, clogged by falling ash. It stinks of coal and sulfer. But you keep moving, anyway. Keep opening portals and pushing on. Just a little bit higher, and then maybe you'll be able to plunge into the depths.

and you fight

By now there's a plan, and with it, a slowly growing brigade of people, of beings, of bugs, who are gathering to push back against inevitability.

and you never give up

TO ELSEWHERE
| TO THE BASE OF THE TREE | TO OUTSIDE | TO THE SORTING PATH |

IN THIS HUB
| THE SECOND FLOOR | OUT ON THE BOUGHS | THE THIRD FLOOR |

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

Comments

Re: ENCOUNTER: Keep Climbing

[peckishbeings]

Presley's great with a burner wand (ROLLED 8) and the spell goes exactly as intended. A massive explosion issues forth, right at the heart of that awful thing.

The tree shakes, leaves fall, and the Cultist disperses. For a moment, the heavy pressure up here seems to lighten. It's easier to breathe.

But the Cultist isn't done yet. Shadows swirl and reform, that grotesque mask with the keyhole mouth finding its place in the center of the shadow once more. The thing is leaking though, black and gray color wafting away from it like steam. There's not much left of the Cultist.