Welcome to Gaia! ::

Each student ready to move from the first year to the second would find a nice, neatly printed letter taped to their door inviting them to participate in a "Non-Mandatory-But-Highly-Recommended-Anyway Test" (or NMBHRAT for short). A location was provided at the bottom of the note (a section of the grounds, just near the forest), and beneath that the words "Come at anytime."

Upon arrival, you would first notice that a peculiar house has been erected. It's not large enough to overshadow any of the dorms by any means; in fact, it seems rather tiny and shabby in comparison, with the door half stripped of its paint, the windows cracked and smeared with dust, and everything looks as though the merest touch will make it collapse.

At first you wonder if you're in the right place at all, but then you notice a little box sitting just outside of the house. Closer examination would reveal a note, written in a loopy handwriting perhaps familiar to some:







Upon their exit from the house, a certain mischievous Trick or Treater can be found lounging in a tree on the other side, looking as happy as a pig in mud. He smiles down at you, his grin terribly self-satisfied, and tosses you a rolled up piece of parchment. Opening it, you see a certificate of Exam Completion.

"Congratulations," he says brightly, and flashes you a wink. "You're now a Knob."

{Cutthroat Kitchen - 2 - You trip and fall into a vat of what looks like melted chocolate.}





As if that wasn't ominous. Hollandaise pushed open the door jsut enough for her slight form to slide through. The thought of knocking never occured to her - she had spent far too many time invading other people's space. It was not a good habit to cultivate, but hardly anyone had told her to cease. All the wood in this house was old and creaked and she felt her bones sing in response. It was charmingly morbid - that she now moved through a corpse. It would be more beautiful if she could put fresh flowers on a table, a flowerbox in the window, decorate this corpese with its dying neighbors.

She stumbled in the near darkness, toes catching on some nail jutting out of rotted wood. With a creak of dismay, she fell, arms splayed wide. Splish. Her hand went into something warm and smooth and it splashed up onto her dress. Hollandaise reeled back, scrambling upright. Her back slammed against a wall and, with a click, there was light. A rich brown streaked on her arms and splattered the skirt of her dress. She was lucky, she thought, that her dress was alreayd some non-descript shade between brown and green. Blinking, she licked her thumb. Chocolate?

{Cutthroat Kitchen - 1 - You open a door in the kitchen looking for the exit and promptly find yourself dunked by a bucket of icy water. Who left that there?}

The kitchen was interesting, but not interesting enough. Hollandaise looked around, dress swirling as she moved. She felt vaguely sticky and wondered when the actual test would begin. Hollandaise stretched her arms above her head andbegan to sing softly as she moved about.

Tili-tili-bom.
Ty slyshish', kto-to ryadom?
Pritailsya za uglom,
I pronzayet vzglyadom.
Tili-tili-bom.
Vse skroyet noch' nemaya.
Za toboy kradetsya on,
I vot-vot poymayet.
Tili-tili-bom~

On the last, creaking note, she placed her hand on a door and pushed. Hollandaise yelped, the sound like branches snapping, as icy water soaked her thin dress and drenched her hair.

{Lurking Library - nothing you try works.}


Corpses, useful, drying corpses all around her. Hollandaise loved the green and growing things, the way plants fought to spring up between rocks and wrapped around man-made building and crumpled them with age and pratience as though they were tissue paper. But, she thought, it was enough to be a corpse. To be useful. If she could die, she could become a book and her story would be over but someone else's words could be writ across her death. Her toes wriggled as she stroked the spines of them. A cough from some spectral librarian reminded her that she should move, look to exit the room. She sighed and touched a gilded spine, the title gleaming faintly. The Woods Are Dark and Deep.

Hollandaise wanted to be a romance.

{Bloodcurdling Bedroom - You must get above a 65 to have successfully picked the lock.}

There was something horribly, horribly unnerving about this room. It felt as though memories hung in the room, silent screams or some sort of terrible happenings. There was a bed, hung all around with deep purple curtains. Hollandaise did not dare to open them, sure she would see some sort of terrible secret. Instead, she moved quickly, barking one shin against a well-worn vanity. She glanced away from it, seeing things in the mirror that were not there.

The door.

Her hands fumbled with the door, the lock clicking. Hollandaise crouched, feeling as though soemthing was watching her. She tried to pick the lock, something she had done so, so many times, but it broke.

Her feet sprang up and she banged the door open without thought, certain that whatever room followed would be less unnerving. Hollandaise paused suddenly, blinking in the dappled sunlight that filtered through branches. Outside. A creak drew her attention and she looked up. Green on green on green with a micheivous smile - self-satisfied. She opened her mouth, a multitude of questions springing to her lips, but he grinned harder and tossed down a piece of parchment.

She caught it, barely. Hollandaise unrolled it and read. Oh, oh. She had passed. She wad succeeded in something. Her mouth opened in a soft 'oh' of surprise and pleasure.

"Congratulations," he said brightly, and flashed Hollandaise a wink. "You're now a Knob."