Discord
You'd almost forgotten that you were still holding Rustbringer.
It's heavy, even in its pipe form, but you've gotten so used to the weight it feels almost natural.
You raise it as you step through the first set of exit doors, deciding to keep yourself low to avoid being seen through the doors' little windows.
You raise your head to peek outside, and notice some trees past a chain-link fence, swaying in the breeze the rain brings.
Not seeing any threats, you push through
...into a nearly pitch-black, concrete stairwell.
Baffled, you glance to your side to find you can somehow still see the rain and trees through the little window on the open door you're holding.
You'll have to be mindful about that from now on.
Just like when you entered the school for the first time, no light crosses the threshold with you.
Granted, there wasn't much to cross, but the emergency lights could've provided some solace if you'd found a way to prop the door.
Not much you can do about that, though.
It's much too dark to see whether or not the blood trail continues, but the stairs only go one way:
Up.
You squint, but can't see the top of the stairway at all, it's only black past a certain point.
Hopefully, your eyes will adjust as you go.
You hesitate, clinging onto the door handle as you realize you'll barely be able to see once you let go.
Part of you doesn't want to, feeling more apprehensive than you believe you should.
Reaching out with the pipe, you find a wooden railing to your side.
With a steady breath, you let go of the door handle and switch to the railing, keeping your pipe ready for anything in your other hand.
You start making your way up the stairs, your boots echoing back at you.
The door shuts quietly behind you.
You don't turn to look, though, fearing that the image of the exit being shut off will deter you from continuing.
Instead, you focus on every step.
After walking up what must've been three or four flights of stairs at least, you finally reach the top of the stairwell.
You're more than happy to step through the door.
The entryway doesn't look inviting at all.
It's short - your head nearly brushes the ceiling. There's a little wooden table with a single red candle atop it, resting in a bronze candlestick.
The candle is out, but you can see a tiny trail of smoke rising from it, drifting upwards in a straight line.
The floor is... marble, you think, or some other kind of cut, amber-colored stone.
It's shaped into rigidly-patterned squares of graduating size, the exact same material making up the walls.
You take a step and wince, that single footfall sounding far louder than it should.
Everything feels louder.
The hall is devoid of sound save for the ones you make.
Like your breathing.
You hadn't been paying attention to it before, but you now hear every draw and release in excruciating detail.
Steeling yourself regardless, you leave the entryway, having to duck to clear the alcove as you step into a truly colossal hall.
While the floor here is similar to the entryway - albeit on a significantly-increased scale - the walls and ceiling are radically different in structure:
The stone wall juts outwards menacingly in seemingly-random spots, with some extending inwards upwards of ten or eleven feet, you guess.
The ceiling is just the same, though the square 'spikes' look dramatically longer, as much as you're able to tell from the eighty or so feet of distance you stand below it.
One of your ears starts ringing, interrupting your thought process.
You tap it carefully with a claw until it stops, getting back to what you were doing.
The wall in front of you catches your eye, and you're not sure how you missed it until now.
It's a truly immense window of patterned stained-glass.
On it, various abstract shapes in red and orange surround an intricate center depicting an odd, golden symbol.
The symbol is strangely complex to the point that it looks almost three-dimensional; interlocking squares and various jagged shapes creating an effect that's unnerving to look at.
The light coming through the giant window shifts around bizarrely, casting liquid-like patterns across the vast floor of the room that feel almost... alive.
...You feel sick.
Something about this place is drawing in an uncomfortable emotion you can't quite process.
It's welling up in the pit of your stomach, nailing itself there.
Your skin is crawling.
Now thinking about ways out, you spot four doors available to you:
-The one in the entryway behind you, which you came through to get in here.
-One to the right of the entrance, fairly close by.
-And two more at the other end of the room, one on the left wall and one on the right.
Some Oubliette functionality has been restored.
You may now view your current location in STATUS.
It's heavy, even in its pipe form, but you've gotten so used to the weight it feels almost natural.
You raise it as you step through the first set of exit doors, deciding to keep yourself low to avoid being seen through the doors' little windows.
You raise your head to peek outside, and notice some trees past a chain-link fence, swaying in the breeze the rain brings.
Not seeing any threats, you push through
...into a nearly pitch-black, concrete stairwell.
Baffled, you glance to your side to find you can somehow still see the rain and trees through the little window on the open door you're holding.
You'll have to be mindful about that from now on.
Just like when you entered the school for the first time, no light crosses the threshold with you.
Granted, there wasn't much to cross, but the emergency lights could've provided some solace if you'd found a way to prop the door.
Not much you can do about that, though.
It's much too dark to see whether or not the blood trail continues, but the stairs only go one way:
Up.
You squint, but can't see the top of the stairway at all, it's only black past a certain point.
Hopefully, your eyes will adjust as you go.
You hesitate, clinging onto the door handle as you realize you'll barely be able to see once you let go.
Part of you doesn't want to, feeling more apprehensive than you believe you should.
Reaching out with the pipe, you find a wooden railing to your side.
With a steady breath, you let go of the door handle and switch to the railing, keeping your pipe ready for anything in your other hand.
You start making your way up the stairs, your boots echoing back at you.
The door shuts quietly behind you.
You don't turn to look, though, fearing that the image of the exit being shut off will deter you from continuing.
Instead, you focus on every step.
After walking up what must've been three or four flights of stairs at least, you finally reach the top of the stairwell.
You're more than happy to step through the door.
The entryway doesn't look inviting at all.
It's short - your head nearly brushes the ceiling. There's a little wooden table with a single red candle atop it, resting in a bronze candlestick.
The candle is out, but you can see a tiny trail of smoke rising from it, drifting upwards in a straight line.
The floor is... marble, you think, or some other kind of cut, amber-colored stone.
It's shaped into rigidly-patterned squares of graduating size, the exact same material making up the walls.
You take a step and wince, that single footfall sounding far louder than it should.
Everything feels louder.
The hall is devoid of sound save for the ones you make.
Like your breathing.
You hadn't been paying attention to it before, but you now hear every draw and release in excruciating detail.
Steeling yourself regardless, you leave the entryway, having to duck to clear the alcove as you step into a truly colossal hall.
While the floor here is similar to the entryway - albeit on a significantly-increased scale - the walls and ceiling are radically different in structure:
The stone wall juts outwards menacingly in seemingly-random spots, with some extending inwards upwards of ten or eleven feet, you guess.
The ceiling is just the same, though the square 'spikes' look dramatically longer, as much as you're able to tell from the eighty or so feet of distance you stand below it.
One of your ears starts ringing, interrupting your thought process.
You tap it carefully with a claw until it stops, getting back to what you were doing.
The wall in front of you catches your eye, and you're not sure how you missed it until now.
It's a truly immense window of patterned stained-glass.
On it, various abstract shapes in red and orange surround an intricate center depicting an odd, golden symbol.
The symbol is strangely complex to the point that it looks almost three-dimensional; interlocking squares and various jagged shapes creating an effect that's unnerving to look at.
The light coming through the giant window shifts around bizarrely, casting liquid-like patterns across the vast floor of the room that feel almost... alive.
...You feel sick.
Something about this place is drawing in an uncomfortable emotion you can't quite process.
It's welling up in the pit of your stomach, nailing itself there.
Your skin is crawling.
Now thinking about ways out, you spot four doors available to you:
-The one in the entryway behind you, which you came through to get in here.
-One to the right of the entrance, fairly close by.
-And two more at the other end of the room, one on the left wall and one on the right.
Some Oubliette functionality has been restored.
You may now view your current location in STATUS.
STATUS:
![[Image: ZxxwLJs.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/ZxxwLJs.gif)
SELF:
![[Image: hgd7VeI.png]](https://i.imgur.com/hgd7VeI.png)
INVENTORY:
![[Image: hNAMXnc.png]](https://i.imgur.com/hNAMXnc.png)
COMMAND LIST:
