lostcarnival | ⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

Entry tags:

⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 138 - Day 152
Where: The Summerlands
What: The Ringmaster brings the carnival to the Summerlands immediately after being freed from Portland so that everyone can take a fucking nap. Her included.
Warnings: Individually marked! Most likely discussion of torture and trauma in here.

DAYS OF SUMMER↴

You made it! And things are back to normal... more or less. Upon waking, you will be greeted with a clear blue sky and gentle breeze – the carnival has found itself situated between a pair of mountain peaks, with great fields of flowers extending in the distance. In the other direction, you’ll see mountain-top cities and tall waterfalls accenting vast swaths of forest.

Some of you will already know this place. It’s the Summerlands. You game here once to rest in safety nearly a year ago, and now you’ve come to rest once again.

► WAKING UP: Shortly after the carnival arrives, the Ringmaster will send out a somewhat cryptic radio message - but her immediate location won't be clear. Whatever items you had on your person at the time the Severing was broken will still be on your person, including whatever clothing. All of the animals and pets of the carnival will have returned to the grounds as well, though they are currently free from their designated living spaces. Things in the carnival will appeared to have naturally aged a month, as if the carnival was been sitting here empty and waiting while everyone was in Portland. The lawn needs mowing.

► SUMMER CITY: After the Summer Fae become aware of everyone's presence, they will welcome you into their city. There are stairs that lead up the sides of the mountains, but thankfully there are also magical means of getting up there as well. The Summer Fae will be willing to help workers with the injured as needed, offering herbal remedies and healing magic to those that want it. You'll also be invited to join them for dinner, but they will not be particularly offended if they are turned down, for now.

► SUMMER PEOPLE: The fae here will mostly enjoy the company of any carnival members that offer it - it doesn't seem that much happens here besides day after day of peaceful meditation and relaxation. It is not uncommon to see Summer Fae spent days doing exactly the same thing, whether that be enjoying the weather, listening to music, or dancing - the day and night periods may be similar to earth, but when you don't need rest it can all blur together just the same. Some of the fae work on feats of agriculture or craftsmanship, and while there is no particularly need to work in this place, they take pride in the fact that they do.

► NEW ARRIVALS: Though the Ringmaster will not be offering much guidance for the first week or so, eventually the carnival will begin running for a few small performance sessions, off and on, as a thank you to their fae hosts. The carnival will also be open to receiving new arrivals during that period, and so there will likely be some newbies to train and get orientated as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Syrlya perks up as he sees Strange approach, leaning off the pole with a smile in return. "Hello, Strange! Yes, I found something worth pursing among this, so long as it does not conflict with my duties... I shall be spending a year and a day here."

Saying it sounds like forever, but honestly he doesn't have better options right now. With a little evidence that the time-bending properties of the carnival are true, he's fairly confident about his stay.

Oh wonderful. Strange just looks downright delighted to hear that and his smile spreads all the wider. Because good. The carnival needs more people, partly to keep everything running, but also just to distract everyone (himself included) from that Portland malaise that seemed to have settled over everything.

Of course, distraction doesn't mean coping, but look, baby steps are what matters.

"Have you been assigned a job yet?" he asks, out of pure nosiness.

What a chipper man Jonathan Strange is. Syrlya nods. "Yes, the titles were bouncer and mercenary. My understanding is that means I am to ensure the safety of the carnival, under the Warden and the Nightrider."

He paid a lot of attention to this contract and his job. If you're going to sign up for a bizarre inter-dimensional carnival, you better know what you're in for, right?

"I intend to find them later, but I expect they will not be difficult to contact." He hasn't been under someone else's jurisdiction in a good while... but in a way it's a good thing that's he's not having to make all the decisions here. Refreshing.

That chipper attitude just keeps going as Strange's grin widens as Syrlya mentions his jobs. Finally, there's someone new for Lambert to bother and terrorize and force through that damned obstacle course! He might actually catch a break!

"I can help you with one of those--I'm a mercenary as well." Which isn't something that people would expect from the skinny posh guy with absolutely no muscle tone. "The Nightrider's a man named Lambert. He's easy to spot: he's tall and burly with large horns."

Strange knows who the Warden is as well buuut might want to ease poor Syrlya into things. The 'surprise, you're working under a literal skeleton' talk has the potential to go poorly depending on the person's world.

"Really?" Syrlya raises a brow. Strange definitely doesn't look the part of "combatant" but, to be fair, neither of Syrlya when he's not blatantly carrying his weapons around.

Still, Lambert. He'll remember that name. He's very curious what kind of people his commanding officers are--they really take all types for fighters after all. "I will take that to mean tall, burly, and large horns is actually... uncommon in this place?"

He's had a hard time gauging what is common around here, aside from 'vaguely humanoid'.

And Strange unintentionally voices what's on Syrlya's mind. "Truth be told, I don't think anything here can be considered 'common.' Lambert has horns, my other supervisor has antlers, a good friend of mine has feathers, and I'm mirrored. People here can grow wings, claws, extra limbs, and so on and so forth."

With so many variations on changes and so many different things one's body could become, it's really no use thinking of things as 'common' or 'uncommon.' They simply happen.

"I suppose if there is not a biological limit, anything can happen," But when that kind of thing happens in Tyria, it's a little alarming. Of course, Tyrian magic is toxin in high quantities, and that doesn't seem to be the same for the influence of Fae magic. Whatever qualifies as 'Fae', that part he's still figuring out.

"Most people here, they form contracts worth the mutations from magical exposure, or do they... not know?" Truthfully, had he not spoken to strange first he might not have even thought to ask when making his contract.

"They don't know," Strange admits, with a frown. Which he'll admit, is a bit of a failing on the Ringmaster's part. How many people wouldn't sign up if they knew they might grow claws or antlers? But then again, that's most likely the reason why they wouldn't sign up in the first place.

"Apparently the changes vanish once you complete your contract or return back home. Though generally the, ah, 'mutations' as you called them, are fairly harmless or actively beneficial. I can't think of anyone who's changed in a way that harms them."

Syrlya brings his hand to his chin and tilts his head, thoughtful. "It is certainly more merciful than I expected. The exact form of this magic is foreign to me... I don't suppose anyone besides the Ringmaster has a better explanation for how it works?"

Magic that in excessive exposure doesn't kill you or drive you mad sounds like something that could be a good comparative to what the hell he's going to have to do for his home. Or really, relay to Taimi and have her do. He'll help. A little.

"It's fae magic, I can tell you that much." He had his suspicions that fae magic caused the changes before, but now there's something in Strange's mind that just makes him absolutely certain that this is fae magic. He can recognize that the magic which causes the changes is the same magic that helps keep aspects of the carnival running.

"But I've no idea about the specifics," he sighs. This is something that obviously bothers him a bit, though Strange is going to keep yammering on about theories anyway. "My going hypothesis is that our bodies change in reaction to the fae magic partly to adapt to being in the realm of faerie and being surrounded by so much magic in the first place."

Edited 2017-08-06 04:50 (UTC)

"So your idea is that we are, in a way, turning into fae?" That's... actually not completely implausible. If fae magic specializes in transformation, it only makes sense it would result in an equivocal reaction. That actually is a little alarming after all, however.

"I suppose a better question would be: what is fae magic? They are not a group of people I am familiar with... is it simply that they use their magic in a very specific form, or is it some other thread of energy entirely?"

"More like we're turning into changelings, or taking on the essence of fae. None of us would ever be powerful enough to match a true fae."

Though as for Syrlya's question...how best to explain this. After all, Strange wouldn't consider himself an expert on the fae, despite the fact that he was slowly becoming one of the people who knows the most knowledge about the fae in the carnival.

"I can only thoroughly compare it to English magic, my magic. But it seems that all fae have some type of magic in them. All the ones that I've seen could perform magic, some greater feats than I could imagine. Magic is a part of their very soul, their very essence. If needed, Englishmen can get by perfectly fine without magic. I don't know if the fae could.

Of course," Strange starts again, after a pause, "this is all a hypothesis. I'd want to talk to fae from both courts before I make any sound judgements."

Syrlya's expression lifts a little at that, thoughtful. That's not such a foreign thought, magic being inseparably wound in someone's being--it's how the Sylvari were, after all, although they could get by without actively practicing magic.

Courts, though, gets a raised eyebrow. That's a largely human affair that the Nightmare Court adopted from them--and Syrlya assumed perverted, like they do everything else. Given they are equally familiar and unfamiliar, he's curious. "They separate themselves in courts? And what are these courts like?"

"From what I understand, the distinctions are mostly elemental. The Summer Court reigns over summer, plants, light, things of that sort. The Winter Court is ice and snow, shadows and colder temperatures. Then there's the Wyld Fae, who keep themselves out of distinctions and court politics."

Strange pauses for a moment before he idly shrugs. "Of course, to figure out an actual answer, it'd be best to ask the Ringmaster or some of the Summer Fae themselves. What I know I've picked up from various gossip."

"That is fair." Who better would know but the fae themselves? He expects the Ringmaster is busy, however, so he may just occupy himself with the Summer Fae once he's oriented himself.

"You have been here for a while then, haven't you? With the carnival."

"Truth be told, I've only been here a few months. Others have been here for multiple years. I'm just..." What's a nice way to say 'nosy as shit.' Strange pauses for a few moments before continuing, with a small shrug.

"Well, we're in an entirely new realm, barely anything like the worlds we know. Why not explore it and learn as much as possible?"

That gets a grin out of Syrlya. "I can think of no good reason at all."

Okay, he can actually think of a few good reasons. But does that stop him? Absolutely not. Where life goes, and all of that, and Ventari wouldn't have encouraged them to seek life to it's fullest if that didn't mean sticking your nose in everything.

"Is there a particular meeting place for those working as security? A base, or... small meeting room?"

Or is he anticipating more organization than is present.

It's cute how Syrlya thinks that anything in this carnival is remotely organized. Strange just kind of looks blankly for a moment before he desperately tries to make the carnival seem more organized than it actually is.

"At least for the Nightrunners, since most of our work happens when the carnival stops somewhere, we generally meet beforehand to decide what best to explore and learn about. Aside from that...I suppose the training ground is where we meet up most of the time?"

Strange shrugs. Sorry Syrlya, organization is not exactly anyone's top priority with regards to the carnival.

"I... see." Well, at least they have training grounds. Syrlya has been in both the most and least organized (and experienced) militant groups he can imagine. The bar is set very, very low for the carnival. "You said that Lambert is the Nightrunner, correct? Do you know who the Warden is?"

It'd be good to know how to find both of his bosses, just in case.

"His name is Sans. He's..." This is going to be awkward no matter what, might as well prepare poor Syrlya for this awkwardness.

"Well, he's a literal skeleton," Strange finishes, in a tone that's pure 'I know this is weird but just work with me.'

Syrlya stares for a minute, and then his eyes light up with recognition. There can only be so many talking skeletons, right?

"Oh, him? Yes, I've seen him. He really is just a skeleton and not a... Lich, or something of the sort?" That's still bizarre, he seems so cognizant.

"To the best of my knowledge, he's really just a skeleton." Of course, Strange had no idea what liches were to begin with. Even with his time in the carnival, he hasn't really heard anyone talk about liches or the undead that weren't vampires.

"Don't ask me how he manages to walk around and hold conversation for I've not the slightest clue."

"Magic, I presume," he retorts with a wry expression. Magic is the answer to just about everything, in Syrlya's experience. It's just a matter of identifying what kind of magic to use for your solution... or how much. "We must be suffocating in it, here."

Because although he can't tune to fae magic like he can Tyrian magic, if people are altering their forms just from exposure... that has to be a lot of magic.

Strange can't help but laugh at Syrlya's statement--it's a bright, happy laugh though, not anything mocking. "We are. The realm of faerie is simply overflowing with magic."

And he finds it amazing. It's just so much easier to perform spells here than it is back home. English magic...it's still a bit stifled. Magic's slightly been brought back to England, but hasn't come back the full way. But faerie simply bleeds the stuff.

"Of course, I'm not complaining. As a magician myself, I say the easier it is to access magic, the better!

Syrlya brings his hand up to the air, looking a little critical as he curls his fingers. Yes, easier access is phenomenal--provided the person using it knows where there limits are.

"I admit, I am having a difficult time sensing it." He can tell that there's magic there, but without the years of study it takes to develop a sensitivity--it's like he can't pick it out from anything else. It's a muddled undercurrent of energy he can neither quite see nor reach. It isn't like chaos energy, where he knows what every slight twist of every mesmeric spell leaves in its wake.

"Have you ever attempted to manipulate their form of magic yourself?"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject