Quoted By:
> Draw something recognizable in the dust of the row the cat when through and say aloud!
> Return and clean along with your friends - inform them what you found. [RES=58] 120/120 DONE!
> Follow Jaq's orders, but maintain some contact.
Peering out of the impromptu cover, you once again take in your surroundings. Don is gone, but the old birchwood planks of the platform remain sickend with dozen or so white, filthy chrysalises. Large, spider-like chrysalises, too, you mentally note.
Back home, you are quite certain, was a saying 'there is no smoke without the fire extinguisher'... Or was it just 'fire'? Anyways, it means there probably are spiders nearby. That, or some cocoon-weaving monsters, and in case of the latter, it's better to alert others, rather than go alone like some B-class horror movie protagonist serving herse- himself! on the silver platter to a den of monsters.
Yet, to leave Your Cat hanging like this is wrong!
"Well, I don't remember those movies anyways." You muse sardonically as you take the first, reluctant step back into the platform, eliciting a long creak. "Off to the monster den I go.."
Sneaking to the first cocoon is easy, but from up close you see that all of them connect to the sides of the bridge, the railing, and to each other with a series of linen strings. In effect creating an intricate pattern- but also an ankle-high roadblock.
Carefully, you step over the first line- to your relief the foul, fetid stench from before mostly evaporated.
The fifth line you pass with growing confidence, as the hall greets you with nothing.
You skip over the tenth, tittering. Landing gracefully on your left leg, leading to another hop - right leg, then left, both, right, left again.. Until with a dusty *puff* you land on the other side of the silken obstacle, both legs firmly on the ground, striking a fancy T-pose with glee. This place offers too little P.E classes! You think, brushing your pencil skirt from dust.
But...
The atmosphere hits you first, reminding you where you are - the eerie north wing. The air here is heavy with rotting, old wood and paper, on top of the usual, even more overwhelming, dust. There is also something else... But you can't quite tell what it is, but it's certainly not pleasant.
Pinned back to reality like a nail, you fall to a kneel and frantically check for threats or movement. Finding none, you breath a sigh of relief. That stunt might have killed you! A lapse of concentration and you just started playing hopscotch carefree... as if your very life wasn't hanging on the line! as it could!
Focusing on the task, you sneak to the row in which you last seen Your Cat. Peering from behind the rough bookcase, you see a row of decrepit tomes - most with hard covers, and titles in swedish, or languages you don't know at all, but with *probably* Arabic or Chinese letters. There are doors at the very end, fueling the theory that both wings are symmetrical, at least from the outside.
