[open]

[whattaprick]

Who: Lambert and YOU
Where: The Carnival
When: During the downtime between Atlantis and their next world.
What: Any Witcher worth his salt knows the first thing you should do when you're in an unfamiliar environment: get the lay of the land.

1. not the nurse you're looking for
[ You might have come into the medical tent looking for supplies or something else. If you were looking for Zecora, prepare to be disappointed because there's a scarred man scowling heavily as he clatters around the place, not working on anything in particular.

He doesn't seem to register there's someone else around -- or is he just straight up ignoring you??? ]

2. by the woods

[ With the carnival no longer water-logged, Lambert's taken a walk of the perimeter, even stepped into the edge of the woods, but he hasn't tried to press any further, although he's stood and looked at it for some time.

There's no sense letting his skills get rusty, so he mostly spends the time-- night or day-- sparring invisible enemies, steel sword flashing as he weaves it through the air.

When he's not swinging a sword around, you'll find him sitting on the dirt, legs folded under him and eyes closed. ]

3. getting to know you?

[ Lambert doesn't normally care about getting to know people, but he also normally doesn't stay anywhere longer than a few months, either. And that's at Kaer Morhen, where he can always get blind drunk and fuck off into the woods and kill some drowners if he needs to let off some steam instead of dealing with the other Witcher.

If he's going to be here for a year and a day? He's going to at least need to know names.

So wherever you are, whatever you're up to, you might notice a newcomer watching you for a few moments before he speaks up. ]

So what do you do around here?

4. wildcard!
[ If we discussed a previous scenario or you just want to do something not covered here, go for it! I'll match whatever prose style you go with. ]

Comments

3

[mildwildchild]

Repair work.

[He gestures at the motor of the carnival ride in whose guts he was elbow-deep just a moment ago.] Or, well, making sure everything's in working order. This one just needed a tune-up, nothing's really terribly wrong with it. Yet.

What about you? Are you new here too?

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert might have spent even longer than usual just because he was trying to figure out what the hell is going on there. It's more complicated than anything he's used to, that much is for certain, but at least he knows what it's for since he's seen merfolk using it over the last few days. Being underwater doesn't seem to have hurt its operation any, yet another of the carnival's mysteries. ]

No, I've been here for years and was just hiding under a rock this whole time. [ That's audibly sarcastic, but Lambert saunters closer, more interested in getting a look at its inner workings than anything else. ]

I'm work with the doctor and the nightrider. [ Who or whatever that is. ]

[mildwildchild]

[The sarcasm gets a look that's somewhere between reproachful and reprimanding, as though Jamie cannot believe Lambert's manners and takes personal offense to them.] I just started here too, I dunno who's new and who isn't.

[The motor is a mess of gears, wires, and fiddly bits crammed inside a metal housing whose access hatch is lifted up out of the way and secured so it won't come slamming down while Jamie's working on it. It's also liberally coated with grease, as is Jamie. Maintaining machinery isn't tidy work.]

More doctors are always good, I guess. [He's not sure about this man's bedside manner, though.] What's a nightrider do?

[whattaprick]

Haven't figured that out yet. [ That at least is honest, because he hasn't really had a chance to figure out exactly what he needs to be doing. ''Mercenary" doesn't explain a whole lot of anything. ] Can't be that important right now or someone would've been looking for me by now.

[ Jamie's probably right about Lambert -- he's likelier to deliver tough love -- but unless he gets injured, it's not going to be a problem right? ]

Guess us new people ought to stick together. How long have you been here?

[mildwildchild]

Just since we were in Atlantis. It's a lot easier to work with arms than with wing...fin...things with hands on the ends. [He just kinda...doesn't volunteer any more information than that.]

How 'bout you? Did you get to be turned into a fish or something?

3

[atouts]

"I sit around and scowl as I write things."

It's an incredibly deadpan answer from an equally deadpan sort of man. Childermass cuts a somewhat severe figure even seated at a table in the cookhouse as he is, even with those patches of raven feathers, dressed in his usual black and white, even if, on closer inspection, those clothes have more wear and tear to them than one might assume from afar. In any case, whatever his job actually is (and it isn't that, it really isn't), that is what he's currently up to.

There's more space to spread out pages on a table out here than in his trailer. Much easier access to coffee, too. While there are loose-leaf sheets out there, chiefly covered in quick thoughts or notes relating to Atlantis, the real writing and the occasional drawing is taking place in a little memo book. He had looked up from it at Lambert's questioning, but only briefly, then gone right back to his work as he answered.

[whattaprick]

"Cushy job. Wish I'd thought to sign up for that instead." Lambert doesn't seem particularly put off by the response, as he's heard every possible variation on 'fuck off' over the years and has learned to thoroughly ignore them all. What he will do is step closer, studying the paperwork spread over the desk with amber eyes that have dilated in the dim light.

The feathers and the black and white clothing call to mind Yennefer, not that he's actually met the woman in person. But he's heard enough of her from Geralt to make him gag, that much is for certain.

Reaching out, he idly plants a finger on a sheet to nudge it aside and see the writing underneath.

[atouts]

Quick sketches of merfolk, maybe a few buildings from Atlantis, notes regarding mer culture, at least one minor complaint about fish not knowing how to mind their own business are all that can be gleaned easily from a glance. Childermass doesn't seem particularly worried about Lambert messing with the papers. If any of it were a secret, he sure wouldn't be working on it out here.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do fine wherever you've ended up." He's still looking down, writing, but his previous once-over of the other man when he did look up before was enough to make a few educated guesses at to where that might be. "With the Nightrider or the Warden, I imagine."

[whattaprick]

"Guess you're a regular detective," Lambert responds, taking the lack of reaction as an open invitation to seat himself right across Childermass and more properly shuffle through them. He's handling the paper with surprising care, nevertheless, and putting it back in the order he found them, someone used to skimming quickly for information that he needs.

"You're half right." The sword on his back isn't exactly subtle, and the scar on his face even less so. He doesn't elaborate on the other half.

"You don't seem like you'd be one of the performers." A carnival like this has no need of a historian, he's pretty sure of that. Accounting, maybe? But from what he can see at this angle, he's hardly likely to be working on a ledger. So that leaves ...

"Ringmaster's boytoy?"

4: welcome party

[spaghettimonster]

[People who willingly sign up for a contract are in for the longhaul, unlike those accidental debt sorts who look for opportunities to leave early. Papyrus can't blame them, not really, but it sure means a lot of faces come and go after only a couple months. And one of those faces was his old roommate, leaving the trailer emptier and lonelier than before. Not much of a place to spend much time.

When he learns that he's about to get a new roommate, there's only one thing for it: making sure this new person feels properly welcomed.

One of the advantages of being the janitor is getting first dibs on the trash people leave. Most of it's just trash, sure; but you don't live sealed in an underground cave system, dependent on debris from the world above for getting novelties, without learning to pick through some garbage to get to the treasures. Or just straight-up using the garbage to make treasures.

So after a day of finishing cleaning up sea debris, checking on the remaining sand sculptures, and searching for party supplies, Papyrus calls it a job adequately done and heads home to the trailer.

And who needs to knock when you're entering your own living space? He just walks right in the door, hands full of a basket of food from the mess haul, a succulent potted plant, and unlit sparklers.]

papyrus doesn't deserve this

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert is meditating.

Or trying to. He's never been very good at it in the first place, but he's more used to it than he is the narrow bunk, which is arguably more comfortable than kneeling on the ground. The trailer floor under his knees is hard and unforgiving, but he shuts sensation and focuses on his breath. Naturally, it's right at the moment when he finally manages to fall into a trance, the door opens.

In an abstract sense, Lambert's aware he has a roommate, and the trailer does show signs of someone else being there, but not much. After the cavernous, vast openness of the witcher fortress, the idea of sharing a small space with another person isn't something he knows how he'll handle. But if there are going to be any problems, he might as well find out now rather than later.

Lambert opens his eyes and sees a skeleton standing in the doorway. Years of instinct take over like a well-oiled machine, flicking rapidly through what he knows about the undead and gauging the distance to the door and where his sword is to come to an instant decision on the best course of action.

Flames roar out in front of him as he rolls to his feet, hands outstretched, but the space is just too small for so explosive a spell ... and he promptly sets his own shirt on fire. ]

sometimes housewarming parties are warmer than you expect, that's just how it goes

[spaghettimonster]

[For an instant the trailer fills with fire, so sudden and bright that Papyrus can't see a thing. The burst engulfs even him, the flames and heat squeezing on his bones and hurting a fair bit. If he weren't so used to hanging out with Undyne, he might even mistake it for a violent attack. As the flames recede, he's covered in soot, outfit rather more tattered and charred than before. The weclome basket is crumbling, the food is charred, and the succulent looks so singed and dry that it might never recover.

On the plus side, the few surviving sparklers are sparking.

He forces a grin to his face, plopping the damaged gifts on a table, as he takes a closer look at his new roommate. They're far enough away to be a little difficult to take in all the details, but they look like they might be human? Also, a little bit on fire.]

Wow! You're really in the spirit of this thing! But, maybe tone it down a little? You're supposed to introduce yourself before the explosions.

[whattaprick]

[ There are scorch marks on the ceiling and doorway, but most of the damage It's lucky, in a way, that Igni isn't really meant to be a sustained spell. The flames on his shirt have died down from the initial blaze just from how quickly he's moving, but the edges are still alight when he brings his sword up and brings it swinging around, aiming to cut off a limb. That's the best way to deal with the restless dead; keep them from moving and they'd be sitting ducks.

Of course, he wasn't expecting it to speak, and it's jarring enough to bring him up short. You can't really stop a blade once it's in motion, though, so the best he can do is turn the swing into a clumsy jab instead, driving awkwardly to the vicinity of Papyrus' ribs instead.

His gaze darts between the sparklers, the ashes gently drifting in the air, and the rictus grin (do skeletons really have another expression though???) on his face. Finally: ]

What the hell are you? [ It's amazing how much this place has prompted that out of him the past few hours alone. ]

4. SURPRISE, IT'S YOUR BOSS

[motivenotfound]

[She'd gotten the tip about a new scout from the Ring Master. Finding him wasn't especially hard--there aren't that many new faces at any given time, and she's got about 50 eyeballs (even if most of them are covered up by clothing) with which to do the looking.

Spotting him? Is a piece of cake. And once she has him in her sights...

...well, first she climbs down from the ferris wheel.

Then she makes a beeline across the carnival, stalking his trajectory. She turns the corner just in time to cut him off, stepping out from around a tent in all seven and a half feet of her four-armed, monstrous multi-eyed glory. She towers over him, her 'normal' eyes obscured by the sunlight on her glasses' lenses.

But the rest of them stare him down from her arms, shoulders, sternum...]

........

HEY BOSS...

[whattaprick]

[ By now, he's had a fiery introduction to his roommate and a watery introduction to his other boss, and it's evident that Lambert is going to have to get used to working with people that look like things he normally would be stabbing into at the earliest opportunity possible. So when the (horrorshow) person steps out from the shadows to tower over him, he still reaches up to get a hand on the steel sword on his back, but he manages to stop himself before he draws it more than an inch or so. ]

Do you have some kind of betting pool on who can freak out new people the most? [ He asks into the silence, teeth bared into a sharp grin. There was plenty enough hazing when he'd been training to be a Witcher, but not quite like this. ]

'Cause I'd say you're winning so far. [ He stays poised on the balls of his feet, ready to spring into action if need be, until he figures out exactly what she's doing here. ]

http://68.media.tumblr.com/c6b4204ab0a736b98601e8736b5c228f/tumblr_o8fdcoZSS71r3ew35o3_r1_250.png

[motivenotfound]

[She sees him go for that sword, and she shifts forward just a little, ready to take him on--but he's not ballsy enough to make a go for it, which is almost disappointing. But, uh, probably for the better.

She does her best to hold a straight face when he starts acting all scary, but... she can't do it. She just cannot. Her laugh starts its escape like air out a balloon before erupting for real.]

Pffffft--!

Hee hee... hahahahahaha! Oh my God. Tough guy, huh?

Scary~!

[She literally doubles over laughing--and no, she doesn't sound scared at all. She sounds.... honestly, she sounds like she's sixteen.]

So, are you gonna fight me?

I won't stop you.

But I'm actually your boss, so I'm probably gonna kick your ass!

[whattaprick]

[ Normally, Lambert would be the one giving people shit, but his arrival at the carnival has been something of a reversal of fortune. In any case, the moment she speaks he can recognize her voice, clear then the slight distortion over the small devices they carry. Still, having secured her identity, he only relaxes his grip on was his sword and waits out her fit of mirth, expression fading from a scowl to a smirk.

When all else fails, stick to bravado! it's always worked out for him before. ]

I think I could give you a challenge. I try not to make a habit of fighting who I'm working for. Unless they draw first. [ Now, what had she introduced herself as…? ]

It's Nightrider Illustrious, isn't it? [ Whatever kind of a name that is. ]

3

[toogoodtoopure]

[Yuugi's ears are about the only indication that he's actually paying attention to his surroundings, twitching on top of his head amid the spikes of hair. He looks up at the question though, a deck of cards in his hands that he shuffles a little absentmindedly.]

I'm a game operator. Mostly I just help run the games in the circle.

[New. That's about as obvious as a brick wall. No changes yet. Yuugi tilts his head in curiosity, fingers splitting the cards in his hand without needing to look.]

Can I help you with anything?

[whattaprick]

[ What little physical changes Lambert has predate his arrival to the carnival, and most aren't as easily visible as the catlike yellow eyes sizing up the apparent inhuman traits the other has taken on. He's noticed more than a few hybrids around, no two shapes consistent, and while he has a guess at the cause he hasn't straight up asked anyone about it yet. ]

Just trying to figure out more about how things work here. Seems pretty quiet now that there aren't any visitors around.

[ He nods at the cards, voice taking on a tone that could be called friendly challenge. ] You any good with those?

[toogoodtoopure]

We get a bit lax between locations, yeah. I think this is the third rotation since I joined, but there's always something to do.

[Yuugi pauses, taking in the man's eyes before shrugging. Some of his traits are at least noticeable - his ears, the digitigrade legs leading to paws, the skin pigmentation. Others would have to be looked at closer, but for now the friendly challenge is met with a bit of a grin, baring sharper teeth as he reassembled the card deck and held it up.]

These? I'm pretty good, but I'm not on my grandpa's level. He taught me everything.

[He raises an eyebrow.]

Feel up to a game?

[whattaprick]

Depends if you're up to showing me how to play, first. [ Taking that as an invitation, Lambert takes the nearest seat, resting his hands on his knees. ] I wasn't bad with cards back home, either. Gwent, if you've heard of it.

[ He sincerely doubts it, but it'd be a pleasant surprise if he did. ]

Name's Lambert. [ He adds, off handedly. ] And you're...?

closed, for strange!

[whattaprick]

[ The events leading up to this point have mostly passed in a pleasant, tipsy blur. Proper introductions exchanged at last (Strange is both exactly like and nothing like what Lambert expected from their exchange on the network) had given way to drinks, though Lambert's snuck in a few gulps of White Gull to give an extra kick to whatever Strange offered him. Somehow, in the middle of all of that, he'd never actually gotten around to answering Strange's question about what a Witcher is, but if he's forgotten about it entirely Lambert is perfectly happy to leave it that way.

The question is the first time this evening that Lambert's really had to slow down and try to think about something, and he considers it for a few moments. ]

Does it have to be someone I know? [ He could spy on his bosses, but no sense in risking them having the ability to detect magic. And he's definitely not interested in peeking in on whatever any of the kids are doing at night. Which leaves only one potential candidate really. ]

There's a man who's got feathers growing out of his arms, silver eyes. Kind of shabby-looking, doesn't smile much. [ Now what was his name...? ]

[kingsroads]

[ Exactly in the sense that huh, he is mad and eccentric and hasn't brushed his hair, but different because now that they're out of Atlantis, some of his fish scales have remained: orange, white, and black scales are spotted around Strange's neck and lower cheek, as well as on his hands. There's also the mirror eyes, but the scales are obviously the newest based on how Strange just keeps scratching at them. They itch.

Strange can't help but smirk slightly as Lambert describes who he's thinking of. ] So you've met Childermass?

[ He continues talking as he starts to gesture over the basin, dividing into quadrants, over and over again. ] We were from the same world before our arrivals here. And yes, he's always been that dour.

[whattaprick]

[ Lambert has yet to cotton on to his own change, the sprinkle of bioluminescent spots down his spine, because he's not particularly used to admiring himself in mirrors and it doesn't otherwise affect him. ]

That's the one. [ He snaps his fingers. ] Can't speak ill of a man who gets me drinks, though.

[ Haha yeah right he can totally talk shit about him. ] I didn't think he had any friends.

[ He could be his friend and totally okay with spying on him. The two are not mutually exclusive. ]

[kingsroads]

[ They're not really friends--at least, Childermass hasn't described them as friends. But still, Strange can't help but feel a little affronted when Lambert mentions Childermass doesn't have friends. He definitely has friends! He's got...well...um...

Huh. Childermass might not have friends. Whoops. ]

I don't think we're at friends yet. We've interacted more here than back in our own world.

[ By now Strange has finished casting the spell. ] Here, it's ready.

[ If Lambert looks over the basin, he'll see the image of Childermass in the water...doing something really boring, like smoking his pipe or making notes or something. Strange just sighs a little. Yeah, this is expected. ]