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peckenpaugh2019-10-31 08:15 pm
peckishmods) wrote in peckenpaugh2019-10-31 08:15 pm
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The library tower is two dozen creaky wooden steps spiraling upward with barely enough room for two way traffic. It’s eerie enough in the daytime, illuminated only by a handful of floating, heatless candles up the stairwell. At the top, the tower ends in a short corridor with yellowing and peeling wallpaper and discoloration where a few portraits used to hang. At the end of the corridor is our friend The Door, a heavy oaken affair, overlayed with wrought iron in a curling, ivy-like design. That door never opens. Not for anyone. Not until tonight, at least. If you’re a petition selectee and you’d like to thread your door knock, or if you’d like to just thread your kid failing to get the door to open, do so here!
Regardless of when you left, you all arrive at once.
Each student who saw a warm, yellow light beyond the library door steps through it and arrives here: in front of a cozy cottage. It's quaint, in a backwoods kind of way, with a HEAVY WOODEN DOOR and big windows filled with the glow of a fireplace. If they listen closely, the students can just barely make out the sound of SOMEONE HUMMING on the other side of the door.
The humming stops. The HEAVY WOODEN DOOR swings open, and a FAMILIAR CELEBRITY SASQUATCH steps out, broom in hand.
Each student who saw a warm, yellow light beyond the library door steps through it and arrives here: in front of a cozy cottage. It's quaint, in a backwoods kind of way, with a HEAVY WOODEN DOOR and big windows filled with the glow of a fireplace. If they listen closely, the students can just barely make out the sound of SOMEONE HUMMING on the other side of the door.
The humming stops. The HEAVY WOODEN DOOR swings open, and a FAMILIAR CELEBRITY SASQUATCH steps out, broom in hand.
Edited 2019-11-01 00:20 (UTC)
Regardless of when you left, you all arrive at once.
Each student who saw darkness and shadows beyond the library door steps through it and arrives here: a strange and unfamiliar street. Well, not that unfamiliar. It seems like it could be the main drag of Elflock Falls. Or an alternate version of Elflock Falls, at least. One that once had paved streets criss-crossed by power lines now toppled and dangling, the electricity running through them cut long ago. The sidewalks and asphalt underfoot are cracked and crumbling, many of the BUILDINGS lining the street have fallen to ruin and most structures are overgrown with kudzu. There are PILES OF RUBBLE all around. Steam rises from a MANHOLE COVER a few feet ahead. All around, snow — or, no, is that ASH? — falls gently from the sky and seems to cover every surface. To the right of the group, a STRANGE RESTAURANT looms, a DARK ALLEY separates it from a LARGE SQUAT BUILDING. And oddly, in the opposite direction up the lane, a ROW OF HOMES that aren’t in quite so terrible disrepair.
If this is Elflock Falls, it is not your Elflock Falls, this ruinous place. Oddly, though, this ghost town seems hardly abandoned...
Each student who saw darkness and shadows beyond the library door steps through it and arrives here: a strange and unfamiliar street. Well, not that unfamiliar. It seems like it could be the main drag of Elflock Falls. Or an alternate version of Elflock Falls, at least. One that once had paved streets criss-crossed by power lines now toppled and dangling, the electricity running through them cut long ago. The sidewalks and asphalt underfoot are cracked and crumbling, many of the BUILDINGS lining the street have fallen to ruin and most structures are overgrown with kudzu. There are PILES OF RUBBLE all around. Steam rises from a MANHOLE COVER a few feet ahead. All around, snow — or, no, is that ASH? — falls gently from the sky and seems to cover every surface. To the right of the group, a STRANGE RESTAURANT looms, a DARK ALLEY separates it from a LARGE SQUAT BUILDING. And oddly, in the opposite direction up the lane, a ROW OF HOMES that aren’t in quite so terrible disrepair.
If this is Elflock Falls, it is not your Elflock Falls, this ruinous place. Oddly, though, this ghost town seems hardly abandoned...
Edited 2019-11-01 00:21 (UTC)
Audrey steps through the library door and into a dark, cold hallway. Her two companions do not follow.
The passage she’d taken snaps shut behind her with a sputter of magic that temporarily illuminates her drab surroundings: a seemingly endless TUNNEL, cracked and crumbling concrete FLOOR, WALLS and CEILING. The only light is a dim and sickly gray coming from OLD HEATLESS CANDLE FIXTURES. The magic that powered them — and magic they certainly are — is starting to run dry, but it’s just enough to let her see a few feet in both directions once the magic sparkle has disappeared. Faintly, the SMELL OF BRIMSTONE reaches Audrey’s nose. There are only two ways to go, now: FORWARD and BACK.
The passage she’d taken snaps shut behind her with a sputter of magic that temporarily illuminates her drab surroundings: a seemingly endless TUNNEL, cracked and crumbling concrete FLOOR, WALLS and CEILING. The only light is a dim and sickly gray coming from OLD HEATLESS CANDLE FIXTURES. The magic that powered them — and magic they certainly are — is starting to run dry, but it’s just enough to let her see a few feet in both directions once the magic sparkle has disappeared. Faintly, the SMELL OF BRIMSTONE reaches Audrey’s nose. There are only two ways to go, now: FORWARD and BACK.
Edited 2019-11-01 00:21 (UTC)
It’s past midnight by the time everyone’s returned from their late night jaunt. Two separate groups of students, each accompanied by a gaggle of teachers, appear on the far side of Peckenpaugh’s east bridge at nearly the same moment. Elsewhere, by the library, Audrey Poke springs up out of the ground at Mr. Qualls’s translucent blue feet. All students are taken to be checked out by Healer Greatheart and Mr. Berzelius before being accompanied back to their dorms by their Heads of House. The air is charged with excitement, and everyone wants to know about the adventures Peckenpaugh’s students went on. Even the staff seems interested once it becomes clear that everyone has returned safely.
Tonight, at each House an additional headcount is done before everyone is sent to their dorms. For the next few nights all dormitories will be staffed by two chaperones: Gunzenhauser and Purcell at Deeplurk, Berzelius and Hobgood at Mothgarden, Dr. Ranui and Mr. Potkin at Wildgulch and Altizer and Madam Beridze at Thorntrail.
Tonight, at each House an additional headcount is done before everyone is sent to their dorms. For the next few nights all dormitories will be staffed by two chaperones: Gunzenhauser and Purcell at Deeplurk, Berzelius and Hobgood at Mothgarden, Dr. Ranui and Mr. Potkin at Wildgulch and Altizer and Madam Beridze at Thorntrail.
Edited 2019-11-01 00:29 (UTC)
Please respond to this comment to confirm whether or not we can Take Your Shit.
You provided us with a list of inventory items, and maybe we want them. You know. For whatever.
We will not take: journals, cell phones, anything your character needs to literally survive (inhalers, medication, their heart, etc.).
You provided us with a list of inventory items, and maybe we want them. You know. For whatever.
We will not take: journals, cell phones, anything your character needs to literally survive (inhalers, medication, their heart, etc.).
The SASQUATCH invites the wayward wanderers to come in from the cold. It’s warm in the cottage, and a fire crackles from another room. Just inside the doorway is a SHOE RACK, though the size and shape of the shoes don’t look like anything the students have ever seen. A CLUTTERED BOOKCASE is crammed in the corner, TRINKETS and PAPERBACKS filling the shelves, and a painted wood sign reading “BIG BLESS THIS BIG MESS” is stuck up on the wall. A BASKET OF DIRTY LAUNDRY sits almost in the way, just below a CHORE WHEEL.
This LIVING ROOM looks like it gets a lot of use. A FIREPLACE roars against the longest wall, and along its MANTLE sit a variety of KNICK-KNACKS and FAMILY PHOTOS. A lumpy, overstuffed sofa sits in the living room, where an INHUMAN YOUNG MAN WITH WINGS hunches over a Nintendo Switch. The YOUNG MAN doesn’t look up, but he does toss out a half-hearted wave when the SASQUATCH grunts at him to greet their guests.
A GARBAGE BAG FULL OF LEAVES sits on the back porch, a plastic rake tossed off to the side. GARDEN BOXES, some empty, some not, outline a small sitting area, though the TABLE and CHAIRS have been covered most of the season. A WELL-WORN SKATEBOARD lies upside down on a small patch of hard dirt, some forgotten GARDEN TOOLS a few feet away. Just outside the sitting area stands a MAPLE SAPLING, small and proud, a few orange leaves clinging to the branches.
There’s something haunting about the looming brick building on the right side of the road. So dark and so hollow it seems to eat what little light reaches it. A sad black hole, insatiably hungry for life, somehow it feels as though it begs your approach. Each rectangular window is broken, all but a few shards of glass long gone. At the front an ORNATELY CARVED SIGN droops from just one rusted chain, clattering against the brick. The DOOR appears scorched and is missing its handle. Nothing is barring entry for the curious.
There’s no mistaking what this building is (was?) upon entry: a HOST PODIUM stands to the immediate left of the door and beyond that a room full of TABLES, many of them still covered with moth-eaten and yellowing table cloths, plated for dinner with vases of fabric flowers so delicate most disintegrate at human touch. By the looks of things, the last people to be in here left in a real hurry. A few glasses and personal belongings rest on a long COUNTER on the far side of the room. Somehow the BAR is still well stocked.
There’s no mistaking what this building is (was?) upon entry: a HOST PODIUM stands to the immediate left of the door and beyond that a room full of TABLES, many of them still covered with moth-eaten and yellowing table cloths, plated for dinner with vases of fabric flowers so delicate most disintegrate at human touch. By the looks of things, the last people to be in here left in a real hurry. A few glasses and personal belongings rest on a long COUNTER on the far side of the room. Somehow the BAR is still well stocked.
It looks like a dead end. CRUMBLING BRICK WALLS, covered with GRAFFITI, frame a narrow alley and a THOROUGHLY RUSTED DUMPSTER taking up too much space sits at the far end. A long CRACK in the concrete runs the length of the alley separating the two buildings that make it up. More STEAM wafts up from this fissure. It’s oddly warm here. Almost comfortable given the chill just a few paces back on the main street.
This yellow brick building is twice as large as the restaurant beside it, but perhaps a bit newer — more gauche and less in keeping with the Victorian designs around it. A broken NEON AND METAL SIGN stands at the top of a tall pole, welcoming visitors to...something. The letters are gone, and what’s left looks like it could be a shoe, or maybe a bowling pin. The building, itself, is locked up tight. The DOOR triple padlocked and marked with STRANGE GRAFFITI, all the windows are boarded up not with just wood but metal, as well. There’s WRITING all over the building.
Edited 2019-11-01 00:24 (UTC)
Not everything in this upside down town is in shambles. Just up the street from the STRANGE RESTAURANT, a ROW OF HOUSES sit looking comparatively well-tended. Each house is gated by a white picket FENCE, beyond which is a GARDEN. In the nearest house, there’s a warm yellow light flickering on the second floor WINDOW. And, well, the closer you get, the easier it is to see: SOMEONE is standing at the end of the lane...
Warmer air wafts from this direction, and if Audrey squints she can see SOMETHING in the distance. Is that the tunnel’s end?
If Audrey turns from the direction she was spit out, she meets a cool draft. There is no end in sight in this direction, but the further she proceeds down it, strangely, the more awake she feels. There is LICHEN growing on the walls and MOSS underfoot after a few steps.
There’s a rat-a-tat on the front door, and the Sasquatch lets out a deafening roar when the door opens. Dr. Ranui and Ms. Treetops stand just outside in the darkness, while Mr. Trullinger is crushed in an affectionate squatch squeeze.
“Hey there old friend,” he chokes out. “Sounds like you’ve got something of ours here.”
“Hey there old friend,” he chokes out. “Sounds like you’ve got something of ours here.”
Abruptly, the moonless night sky is lit by a bright magical flare. The signal is followed shortly by the booming voice of Administrator Kwan, pleasantly even and not unlike a daily announcement: "Good evening! Please excuse the interruption. All Peckenpaugh students report promptly to the entrance of the—er, hm...La Chair Enchantée. It is well past curfew and we need to get you home!"
Whatever you're doing, you best get going. The way Ms. Kwan's words seem more clipped than usual belies her cheerful demeanor. She is not to be trifled with right now.
Just outside the strange restaurant is Administrator Kwan, as stated. She is flanked by Ms. Altizer and Groundskeeper Bub. A few paces off, Mr. Youngblood pokes at a pile of rubble with his wand.
"Well, at least it wasn't one of those waterfall ragers," Ms. Altizer says with one arched brow once the last student has been accounted for.
Whatever you're doing, you best get going. The way Ms. Kwan's words seem more clipped than usual belies her cheerful demeanor. She is not to be trifled with right now.
Just outside the strange restaurant is Administrator Kwan, as stated. She is flanked by Ms. Altizer and Groundskeeper Bub. A few paces off, Mr. Youngblood pokes at a pile of rubble with his wand.
"Well, at least it wasn't one of those waterfall ragers," Ms. Altizer says with one arched brow once the last student has been accounted for.
“Oh my Goodddddd. There you are!” That vocal fry is unmistakable, though Audrey can’t place where precisely it’s coming from: that voice seems to reach her from all around, a bright shiny buzz of joyous sound penetrating the creeping dark. “Ugh, like, how did you even get here, Audrey Poke? Nothing but weeds, here. Nothing for you. C’mon it’s time to go home!”
If she wants to lodge a protest, she doesn’t have the time. There’s a grunt of effort, and ground beneath Audrey cracks and opens abruptly. She’s sucked into the dirt and taken from this place. The damp embrace of the earth is a great deal warmer than one might expect, a bit like a muddy hug, and Audrey can feel herself zipping along to somewhere at incredible speed.
As unceremoniously as she was taken, she is ejected from the dirt, lungs burning a bit by the time she’s freed. Audrey, caked in mud, arrives in a much more familiar place: outside the library. “...e’s awake...” she can hear Pocket say, but by the time she’s wiped the mud from her face, Pocket is nowhere to be found. Instead, Mr. Qualls’ ghostly form floats before her, and he looks surprisingly lucid.
“Oh, Toffee. My God kid! Look at your clothes! We should get you to Healer Crockett. I bet she's got some soap.” Okay, maybe not that lucid.
If she wants to lodge a protest, she doesn’t have the time. There’s a grunt of effort, and ground beneath Audrey cracks and opens abruptly. She’s sucked into the dirt and taken from this place. The damp embrace of the earth is a great deal warmer than one might expect, a bit like a muddy hug, and Audrey can feel herself zipping along to somewhere at incredible speed.
As unceremoniously as she was taken, she is ejected from the dirt, lungs burning a bit by the time she’s freed. Audrey, caked in mud, arrives in a much more familiar place: outside the library. “...e’s awake...” she can hear Pocket say, but by the time she’s wiped the mud from her face, Pocket is nowhere to be found. Instead, Mr. Qualls’ ghostly form floats before her, and he looks surprisingly lucid.
“Oh, Toffee. My God kid! Look at your clothes! We should get you to Healer Crockett. I bet she's got some soap.” Okay, maybe not that lucid.
HOLY SHIT
*digs into reading*
*digs into reading*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Honestly, no one needs that many crystals. Please divest Val of her shit.
I'm thanking my stars that I did not come up with a way to include the screaming level on Bijou's list and thus YES YOU MAY TAKE HER THINGS.
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