lostcarnival | ⇨ ATLANTIS

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⇨ ATLANTIS

Who: Everyone!
When: The morning of D44 and onward.
Where: The ocean realm of Atlantis.
What: The carnival abruptly arrives at an underwater realm, and everyone is transfigured into merpeople just as suddenly.
Warnings: Body horror, I guess.

THE CITY OF ATLANTIS↴

The visit starts without much warning, but at least there is a full week of free time before performances start. In the meantime, your characters will be given ample opportunity to adjust their acts for an underwater audience, get used to their new fishy appendages, or just spend the whole time enjoying the sights and sounds of Atlantis city. King Triton will not be immediately seen, but it's possible to gain an audience with him if you get in contact with the ambassadors of the kingdom. Just, make sure that you're not wasting his time. He's a lot less patient with nonsense than the Ringmaster is.

► FISH FRIDAY: You fell asleep, whether or not that's something you usually do, and the next morning you wake up as one of the merfolk. A few last additions may grow in after you're awake, but for the most part everyone will have a method of swimming and a method of breathing underwater transfigured into them upon waking. Don't worry about your belongings - everything is waterproofed, and technology will work the same underwater as it does above it. That doesn't mean there won't be plenty to get used to, though.

► GREAT BLUE YONDER: The ocean realm where Atlantis resides is enormous, and the depths seem to be unending. Despite the fact that there doesn't seem to be any surface, sun glimmers all the way down to the ocean floor. Atlanteans use creatures like whales and dolphins as rides and beasts of burden, and they can be seen swimming in and out of the city as constantly as roadways filed with cars in earth civilization. Beyond that, there's everything you would expect to see on the ocean floor here - huge reefs of coral, both familiar and exotic, enormous ocean plants, deep ocean trenches, and all kinds of weird critters living in them. There are a mix of mythical and standard ocean creatures, and are likely a combined populations of many oceans worth of beings.

► THE ATLANTEAN MARKET: The Atlantean market (aka the "merket") is a long trench between rows of buildings in the middle of the city, lit with bio-luminescent plants and rocks, and filled with all kinds of weird mer stuff that you can buy. There are a great many individual booths, mostly with hand crafted wares and objects that have been salvaged from various sunken ships. The Ringmaster has already traded a large number of goods to the merfolk here, and has taken the profit to award each worker with 100 Atlantean Gold to spend as they please. One gold is worth roughly five USA dollars, for a comparison of how much that is. There is a top level set up below in which characters can make their purchases, and you can also handwave the purchase of random common, necessary items (food, drink, etc) at your convenience.

► TREASURE HUNTING: Right now, the only major salvage areas are a few left over sunken ships that have mostly been picked over by the merfolk. However, you are welcome to head over to them and explore, and see if fortune smiles on you when it comes to finding anything that hasn't been taken yet. The current options are three similar looking brigantine that all probably came from the same world. Merfolk do not seem to consider them to be anything extraordinary, though magical items and gold have allegedly been found within them. Whether or not anything is left, is the real question.

► LIMELIGHTING: Merfolk are curious and generally socially forward, as a species. This mean that they find the carnival's workers to be a fascinating novelty, and also are unafraid to make that fascination obvious. Given the opportunity, merfolk will demand your character's attention for bombardments of questions and for general socializing, especially if they are particularly unusual for some reason. Don't be surprised if you get invited to stay at total stranger's houses, or dragged off to a merfolk bar to surprise party with their friends. They'll let you say no, reluctantly, but they will also be pleased as punch to get up in your gill.

It's also possible to make some money, this way, if you're willing to do street performances, or are willing to sell your "skills" in a more private environment. Yes, there are opportunities to become a fish hooker if you are so inclined. Merfolk may also offer money to take you as arm candy to various public events, escort style. They don't consider this to be a particularly socially inappropriate thing to do, either.

You can ask general questions about this setting over on the event post. There are top levels below for buying Atlantean merch, and also for making dolla dolla, if your character is inclined to try.

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"Or there are roads into Faerie no matter where you go," Childermass suggests instead. If England could have them, there's no way to be sure other places in the world do not, or even other worlds altogether.

"Although if she does seek very particular people out, then we're again faced with having to decide how a faerie's mind must work. We already know they don't think like we do, not exactly."

"You're right, Strange adds, with a sigh. "After all, one would think that the people she'd seek out would have useful skills to benefit the carnival."

There's an unspoken 'however...' in that uncomfortable pause after his sentence, where Strange just looks a little bit off to the side. It's not really a secret. Both Strange and Childermass know that there's a few people in the carnival who aren't exactly the most skilled sort of person to begin with. Hopefully they came onto the carnival by accident but Strange honestly doesn't know if they did or didn't.

Which is the part where they would need to think like a faerie. Childermass cannot, he knows that. It doesn't mean he can't give it a fair shot, though, because Strange isn't wrong. There's a number of workers ill-suited for the situation they're in. Sometimes it's for lack of skill, others for lack of will.

"One would think it. However, that is not always true," he finishes for Strange. "It could very well be that she enjoys collecting whatever mortal she can get away with taking. Either that or she takes some enjoyment out of watching the less fortunate ones struggle. They would be the most likely to add on to their years through yet another accident, somewhere down the line."

Even if the latter option would be decidedly cruel, it isn't one he can put beyond any faerie, even the Ringmaster.

"There's one thing we can be certain of: she's certainly not offering us these contracts out of the goodness of her heart." Strange had originally thought that he summoned the Ringmaster. But now? The more he learned about this place? He certainly hadn't summoned her. No, in all likelihood, the Ringmaster had specifically chosen him.

It fits in with Childermass's theory. Offer a contract to someone ill-prepared for Faerie, trap someone in the land with one of the carnival games, and to someone who would be prepared, offer that contract in a fit of madness. Watch them all adapt, watch them all struggle. These are all so interestingly deliberate choices.

"If it was solely collecting, however, then shouldn't there should be more of us? You said that the vampires decimated the carnival's staff, but there's..." A pause, as Strange does some mental addition. "There's no more than fifty of us tops."

"Perhaps the vampires did a thorough job," Childermass says after a moment of pausing to look up through the water, thoughtfully, then back to Strange. "And that there are rules to what she can and cannot do. Enough people pass through the carnival without getting caught up in it, after all. They never realize what they've wandered into and they never cause enough trouble to earn a debt, nor are they looking to make any deals, so why should she offer them a contract?"

That almost makes it sound as though the Ringmaster only collects troublemakers, but even that could be true. They're here, after all.

Edited 2017-01-20 06:18 (UTC)

Strange knows that he's a troublemaker so yeah, makes sense. He'll grant Childermass that much.

"So what we have is a faerie who wants people to be under her contract and occasionally seeks out disruptive influences for that purpose, but can only take on so many people to begin with. Oh, and who currently has an ongoing feud with the vampires to the point where the vampires created a sigil with seemingly no way to remove that they planted in the Ringmaster's domain."

Oh yeah, he straight up didn't mention that 'no way to remove' part to Childermass, did he.

"And how many ways have they tried so far?"

Everyone heard that explosion. He just didn't know the actual outcome of it. Sigil aside, he can't really commit to Strange's summary of the discussion thus far. One angry drunk, a handful of terrified people stuck under contract, and no real way of knowing what the Ringmaster is thinking — it's a lot of guesswork and very little evidence.

"I do want to get the vampires confirmed by someone a little more sober before we assume too much. I would have already done so, but..."

Of course, he's going to gesture to basically everything around them right now. This has all been very distracting. Does he even have to say that to get it across?

"Just the one that I know of. Of course, I assume the Ringmaster first used magic to attempt to remove the sigil." Partly because if he was in her shoes, that's the sort of thing Strange would do first: there is something that was placed magically, try and remove it by magic.

And yeah. Strange reads that gesture wide and clear. It's hard to ask people about the past when you spend half a day trying to relearn how to swim. He nods slightly at Childermass's statement of confirmation.

"We should each ask a different supervisor about it as well, simply to get a broader range of opinions."

"We could do that," Childermass agrees. It would form a larger narrative, at the very least. "Though do we include the parts that involve spying on their supposedly secret meeting? It may come up. Different supervisors may also mean more risk of finding trouble."

Which isn't something he's afraid of, mind, but still something to keep in mind. If the topic remains strictly vampire-related, it may be less a chance, but then they won't get answers regarding the sigil either.

"Again, we weren't the only people who were spying on the meeting. We're not the only members of the carnival with magic and the meeting was told on a public channel—surely some of the supervisors expected spying?"

Maybe. Hopefully. Strange is taking it at a given that other people are as nosy as he is. Besides, various supervisors know of Strange's magic, especially those he accidentally summoned into his trailer. It wouldn't really come as a surprise that he had magic that could spy on the meeting nor that he would spy on the meeting in the first place.

"Perhaps I ask about the sigil and you ask about the vampires." After all, he's got a sneaking suspicion that Childermass might want to stay as under the radar as possible.

"No, we weren't, but the only difference is we didn't get caught."

Who knows what happened to the ones who did. Nothing terrible, he would assume, since no one seemed to be immediately missing after the fact, but still. He's not sure how much fate they should be tempting here.

"I am not so sure splitting up is the best way to go. Though if we do, it might be better if that were the other way around. I can ask about the sigil." As right as Strange actually is, how he would prefer to not draw too much attention to himself, his answer is very much the opposite. If someone has to risk trouble, Childermass apparently thinks it should be himself. "And you, the vampires."

That's a bit unexpected. Strange gives Childermass a brief look, questioning if he's sure, before he simply accepts the other man must be. Perhaps Childermass wants to keep the knowledge that Strange can spy a secret? He didn't see how much good that could do. He hasn't bragged about that magic as much as he has others (shut up about your damn mirrors, Strange) but it's not really a secret.

It could be useful if it was, though. Perhaps he should consider secrecy as a legitimate option.

"If you think that's the best way we should go about it, then I suppose I'll agree." Strange's tone isn't a hundred percent convinced. However, Childermass was the sort of person know more about the best strategies to sneakily find out information—how else could the man have learned magic under Norrell's nose?

"Perhaps your cards could give us a good idea of which road to take?" It's said in a friendly yet joking tone, as Strange gives Childermass a small quirk of a smile.

It's as good a reason as any other, even if Childermass's actual worries lay elsewhere. Though whether or not it's the best way, he can only shrug. If he had to choose, he would not split up at all, but that had more to do with making sure Strange didn't go off on completely unrelated tangents over getting what they wanted to know.

How much can the man be trusted? He did go out of his way to inform him of the rest of the meeting, what he'd missed, in spite of their argument. If anything, that would be what Childermass would use his cards for, if he could. If a mad man could be trusted instead of whether or not they should ask questions that needed to be asked regardless.

It's with that in mind that he gives Strange a resigned look, clearly not caring for the joke. His deck has been the butt of enough jokes as it is, he didn't need Strange of all people adding to that.

"I think this one is better left to us," he says. "Besides, it would be useless to try even if I cared to."

Entirely unaware of Childermass's mental battle of whether to trust Strange or not, Strange gives the other man a quizzical frown. Not at the joke, so much—he had a feeling that even if he joked about the deck in the lightest terms, Childermass wouldn't appreciate it (which, of course, made Strange want to do it even more. Childermass had plenty of legitimate grievances with this world and this place, a few petty ones would hardly add to the stack).

No, it's Childermass calling the cards useless that confuses Strange. That's...unexpected.

"Useless how? Our magic works in Atlantis," And Childermass knew that, having seen Strange show off only minutes earlier...and potentially all afternoon, depending on if Childermass had been hiding in the shadows. The problem with detecting that sort of magic was that it was harder to do when one was distracted.

That and he's used to it. A joke about the cards may not be appreciated, but it's also something he'll let slide off of him like so many other (and far worse) insults. The only reason he reacted at all would be the one he's now stuck admitting to when Strange questions their supposed uselessness.

"It isn't about whether or not magic works here," Childermass replies and this time he makes an effort not to sound troubled over it. As far as concerns go, this one shouldn't rank very high, even if it is very personal to him. "Any reading done with an incomplete deck can't be trusted."

"We did get a stipend," Strange points out like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know if the merket would have tarot cards to begin with, but they at least would have supplies to make a temporary substitution."

If he had the opportunity to change things and possibly make his life easier, then why wouldn't he? The deck's incomplete, fix the deck, it's just that simple. Of course, Strange is entirely forgetting about the fact that they're underwater and paper and water don't really mix well in the first place.

Although, how'd the deck get incomplete in the first place? A question to ask later.

Less simple than Strange might think, all the water aside. Childermass won't get into that, however, and instead takes a moment to stare at him in mild disbelief (only mild due to the fact that this is Strange and therefore this isn't entirely unbelievable at all). He looks around them again, at all the water, the fish darting around the reef they're out lurking at, the... everything, all of it that is literally under a sea.

"Hm," is the thoughtful sound he makes when turning back to look at Strange again. He won't say it outright. He'll just deadpan, "Of course. I wonder why I did not think of that myself. I don't suppose you've seen a merchant selling paper, have you?"

"You know, I haven't," Strange remarks, as if he's literally just realizing that fact (because spoilers, he is). "They've got businesses of all sort, you'd think that there would at least be an Atlantean bookstore."

Strange frowns for a moment, thinking, trying to piece together why there isn't a bookstore in the first place. After all, this is a fairly advanced city to begin with! They've certainly got all the other makings of metropolitan life, why not a library. He's still lost in thought as a fish swims right past him and he connects the dots and feels rather stupid.

"Maybe one of the shipwrecks has paper," he lamely finishes.

The thin silver lining is that Childermass won't directly call him stupid. It's obvious enough that he already realized it and that's all that matters.

"Paper would be amongst the first things to go in a wreck, unfortunately," he points out that much, however. It's just a fact, unrelated to the lack of libraries — at least the book-holding variety — or paper sellers in Atlantis. "Unless they had magic similar to what the Ringmaster has done to the carnival."

Waking up to a trailer full of water and floating loose leaf paper had been the worst part of this thus far, right up until he realized everything had been waterproofed.

It was waking up to his box of matches floating in front of his face that made Strange panic, then relax, then grumble because even if the matches weren't waterproofed, surprise, they were surrounded by water so they couldn't really stay lit to begin with. Thanks, Ringmaster.

"I imagine that they've got to have some form of writing or number-keeping system, though." If only to help keep track of things. There were shops, they had to keep ledgers, right? "What would they write on?"

This is apparently an important point of confusion.

Childermass is going to consider the question for a good, long, clearly very serious moment before answering, "On fish."

This isn't a real answer, by the way, he knows that isn't what they write on. It's just such an odd turn in the conversation, so go from dangerous sigils and vampires and tarot cards to 'what do merpeople write on'. If he had to give a real guess, it might be on stone, but ultimately he can only shrug and suggest,

"Or you could ask them. I have no doubt they would be more than happy to tell you."

Strange knows it's not a real answer and gives Childermass a sarcastic little eye roll for his troubles. "Somehow, I doubt that. A ledger's no use to you if it keeps swimming to a different store."

He's just rolling with the odd turns in the conversation, talking about writing on fish with the same level of seriousness that they were talking about the sigil.

"The next time I find myself performing, perhaps I'll ask the crowd. I'll be certain to report back with that answer as well." Because he's definitely going to find himself on a street corner performing again. It's far too fun and he got paid, something which didn't really occur to Strange until one of the merfolk tried to press some gold in his hand.

His trailer's going to be decked out with the most useless crap imaginable.

Thankfully Childermass will never, ever have to live with Strange's trailer full of useless crap. Good luck, Lars, you'll need it.

"I imagine you could ask them all sorts of things even without a performance," Childermass points out. As fascinating as he's found the merfolk, they've been way too curious about him and that includes trying to talk an ear off. He can only imagine it's the same for the other carnival workers. "Though you do seem to have found your calling with that..."

Because of course he has. Strange likes being flashy.

Strange can't help but grin. Yeah, he knows he's found his calling. Performing like this, using magic, being flashy, chatting with people and learning about this place, about magic here, it's everything Strange likes wrapped up in one obnoxious show-offy package. And, a good chunk of that is things that Childermass would probably hate. The other magician's discomfort is expected.

"I am a carnival magician. If the people want a show, who am I to refuse? It's good business!"

And, as shown by that wide smile on his face, it's also quite fun.

Hate is a strong word for it. Childermass would consider himself disinclined towards that sort of thing, that's all, but he isn't about to judge Strange too much for enjoying himself while he can. After the last world, something that isn't outright terrible and upsetting was probably better for him, anyway, provided one got over the entire 'surprise, you're a merman now' aspect of it.

"Better you than me," is the most honest opinion he can offer on that. "If there's nothing else, perhaps we should start heading back."

As interesting as the reef out here is, they aren't going to find any answers around it.

(no subject)

kingsroads - 2017-01-30 16:19 (UTC) - Expand

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