lostcarnival | HELL OF A HANGOVER PT. 1

Entry tags:

HELL OF A HANGOVER PT. 1

Who: The people who escaped!
When: Very early Day 66 to Day 67
Where: The Carnival
What: The Ringmaster brings everyone she can back to the carnival after getting kicked out the Celebration, a bit worse for wear. Those that have resolved their threads at the Masquerade can start trickling over here as they sort things out.
Warnings: Angst, mostly likely, as well as potentially graphic injuries.

RETURNING HOME↴

About 45 minutes after the conflict with the vampires begins, the Ringmaster will finally show her face at the Masquerade - and immediately be mortified by what she sees. Though initially mostly confused by the fact that there's been problems over the week, and characteristically obtuse about what's going on, as soon as she realizes the severity of the threat she will launch into action. If the Host managed to miss the combat already going on, they won't be able to miss the Ringmaster tearing up the joint and looking for her people. She's quick to scoop up those that have managed to gather in the dining hall - but unfortunately her arrival seems to be the vampire's cue to retreat.

Her attempt to challenge the Host about this will result in the being finally losing their patience and banishing all the vampires and all of the carnival workers from the premises, forcing them back to the portals they arrived from and launching their remaining belongings out with them. The Ringmaster will be pretty fucking pissed off when they return (once again) and will tell everyone to take the time they need to recover, but to stick together and stay safe for the time being. She has a plan to chase down the carnival members that have been stolen, but it will take time.

► BEER PONG: Apparently the Ringmaster spent the entire week playing a nonstop game of beer pong, against several dozen of the Host's bodies. She hadn't quite won yet when the Masquerade began, so she was late. Whether or not she was caught up in the same spell as everyone else is up to interpretation, but the answer "definitely probably." She won, for the record.

► MISSING: Upon doing headcounts, it will turn out that all the supervisors are missing, as well as several regular workers - a few of which will have been spotted as freshly turned vampires during the fighting. Whether that was the point of the attack or not is unclear, but it's pretty clear that the Ringmaster is a little bit devastated about it - particularly about the supervisors. However, she will refuse to talk to anyone long enough to get into too many details.

► THE PLAN: The Ringmaster will announce that she intends to get everyone back - it's just a matter of figuring out their way back to the dimension they've been stolen off to. She guarantees that she will find it, but that it may take some time. In the end, the workers will have a total of two days to recover and plan - during the evening of Day 67, she will be leading a rescue mission to get them all back. You don't have to come, but lives do depend on its success.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When Strange approaches the trailer, he's holding a dagger made of a strange blue metal. It looks oddly similar to Childermass's Atlantean dagger, mostly because it's also an Atlantean dagger. And wow is Strange holding it like someone who has no clue how to hold a dagger.

"We're undoubtedly going to hell to save the others," he says in a tired, yet matter-of-fact voice. They're nightrunners, that's their job, of course they're going to go end up on the inevitable rescue mission. "I doubt you'll be able to teach me how the entire ins and outs of using something like this, but if you have enough time, I'd appreciate it if you taught me enough so that I don't stab myself."

After all, sometimes you can't get words and gestures out when something is trying to eat your goddamn neck.

"You're going to stab yourself no matter what I teach you," Lambert answers mildly, but he'll look up from his vicious sword sharpening to frown at Strange. The magician looks better than the last time he saw him, but not by much. He does still at the sight of the blade, recognizing its make, before he relaxes again, putting the sword aside to beckon him closer.

"Why the sudden interest in knifeplay?"

"My magic is quite useful on a battlefield, where there are so many things to manipulate. The ground, the weather, the trees, all the forces of nature. It is a bit less useful when I'm fighting inside a building and need to make do with what I have."

It's not exactly an answer, but it's close enough. There were plenty of times in the masquerade where Strange's magic wasn't entirely the most useful. There's only so many times you can use the wind to push someone around before they realize just what precisely you're doing and start planning for that. He doesn't want to be caught off guard again.

"Hmm. Well, since we're apparently up against an army of a thousand demons, I'm not sure a knife would serve you well anyway." Closer up, it's easier to see that Lambert's dragged over a crate and turned it upside down to serve as a makeshift table, herbs and components filched from the medical tent (which he'd eventually simply not been able to tolerate hanging around in any longer, so tough shit to whoever showed up there late).

"You're better off playing to your strengths. And wearing a lot of silver."

As he talks, Strange bends down to idly pick up some of the herbs filched from the medical tent, more out of nosiness than any desire to use them.

"The problem is, playing to my strengths won't stop me from getting killed. I can still be stabbed just as easily as any other man, probably more so as I know absolutely nothing about hand to hand combat."

His strengths are magic. Magic is useful and can certainly provide support over a long range, but there had been a few times when the vampire actually got a hold of him that Strange realized he had absolutely no idea what to do and how to save himself. Let's not have that happen again.

If Strange knows his plants, he'll probably be able to identify a few -- lamb's tongue, wolfsbane, some kind of a mushroom that definitely probably isn't meant for ingestion.

"You could use magic to make yourself some armor," Lambert will point out. One would think Strange had already learned something of that sort, if he's been in battle. "Have you ever tried?"

Oddly enough, the thing Strange recognizes easiest is that mushroom that's probably poisonous. Why would Lambert have that? He picks the mushroom up, looking at it with confusion as if to verify no, yeah, this is totally poisonous.

"What would I make the armor out of? I don't think I've actually worked with metal before--I've no idea how it would work with my magic."

"Put that down and wash your hands before you poison yourself," Lambert warns, automatically, sounding a lot less like himself and a lot more like he might just be echoing someone else's words -- and he is.

"I don't know how your magic works." A pause, thinking. "You could manipulate sand -- could you do the same thing with silver, if it was a powder?"

"I knew this was poisonous!" Strange responds, with a triumphant grin. He's well acquainted with dangerous sorts of plants and herbs. After all, they were part of his first plan to make himself mad. He sets the mushroom back down, still a little too proud of himself for recognizing something poisonous.

As for the question, he shrugs. "I suppose I could. I imagine I wouldn't be able to draw upon the same connections as I do when I manipulate sand, but perhaps I could rework some of my spells involving mirrors..." Strange trails off for a moment, lost in thought.

"Of course, we'd need to get powdered silver in the first place. I doubt it's the sort of thing one has lying around."

Why is Strange so proud of recognizing something poisonous and does Lambert even want to know? Probably not.

"It isn't," he agrees instead. He'll pause, though, to rifle through the table's mess for a slim, corked vial with a few teaspoonfuls of fine silver powder inside. Since he doesn't trust Strange to catch it if he throws it, he just holds it out for him to take.

"Here. It's not going to block a gun or a knife, but if you can get it in their eyes or in their blood, it can buy you time to find something else. That dagger of your's not gonna be much use," he adds. "Ringmaster said she'd get us silver."

Yeah, he wouldn't have managed to catch it if thrown. As he takes the vial, Strange holds it up to the light, as if that'll somehow verify the fact that it is silver. That's...well, it's oddly nice of Lambert. Strange is perfectly confident that he can take care of himself (well actually he's only moderately confident but don't tell anybody) but it doesn't hurt to have plenty of options.

Though the Ringmaster's getting silver? That's a smart decision. At least they'd go in prepared this time.

"I don't think there would be much difference in form between an Atlantean dagger and a silver dagger. You could at least teach me how to hold the weapon properly."

Edited 2017-03-12 05:08 (UTC)

"Did none of your army friends ever teach you the knife game?" Lambert says, mostly as a joke – somehow it doesn't quite feel like Strange would be the ideal person to teach such a thing, and he waves it off, standing up. If he's going to be interrupted, they may as well make a go of this properly.

He steps up to Strange, within arms reach, and spreads out his hands to the side. "Pretend I'm someone coming at you. Show me how you'd stop me with that."

He helped train Ciri, he can teach one bigheaded magician not to stab himself. Probably.

Edited 2017-03-13 20:32 (UTC)

All of his army friends are posh as shit: Strange never learned the knife game.

"Well, if you were a vampire, I suppose I'd aim for the heart." Strange makes a gesture with the knife in his hands, making a sort of overhead stabbing motion. "If you were a normal human, I would aim for the stomach." And this time, Strange mimes stabbing someone in the stomach but this time using an underhand gesture.

He's still holding the knife like someone who doesn't know how to use a knife. Lambert's gonna have a hard time ahead of him.

Without preamble, Lambert reaches over, aiming to ... well. Smack the knife out of Strange's hand. He's not particularly gentle about it, either

"Not with a grip like that you aren't." He crosses his arms forbiddingly. "First thing that's going to be most important is you learning how to hold onto your weapon. Pick it up again." He motions for Strange to retrieve the blade. From some hitherto hidden pocket, he sudden produces a knife identical to Strange's own.

"You ever use a hammer before?" With magicians you never really know what they have and haven't done. "Grip it like one. No, like this." He demonstrates slowly, curling his fingers around the handle one by one. "If you're up against a vampire or anything stronger than you, don't count on being able to defend yourself by blocking it. Best thing to do would be run away, but if you can't do that making the first move is the next best thing."

As the knife gets smacked out of his hand, Strange can't help but frown. Yes, he knows he's terrible with weapons, there's no need to rub salt in that sound. Picking up the blade, he looks over at Lambert's...now that's odd. Didn't he arrive at the tail end of Atlantis? When did he have enough time to purchase an Atlantean blade?

He mirrors Lambert's grip as he clutches the knife. "Like this?" He's actually got it this time, though everything about Strange holding the knife feels a bit awkward. "And don't worry. My main strategy is to use my magic as much as possible. But if we're stuck inside again, I want to have options."

The problem with relying a lot on elemental magic is that you kind of need elements.

Lambert misses the odd look, but he's also focused on studying Strange's glad, and nods in apparent satisfaction. "Better," he says, unaware that not so long ago he was giving the man dancing lessons ... quite the change in curriculum indeed.

"Now you just want to make sure you keep your grip firm as possible. Whenever you hit something, there's gonna be resistance, a force pushing back against where you want it to go. If you let it, you could lose your weapon." He reaches a hand up, taps his forehead.

"Don't go for stabs -- unless you're good at hitting the right spot, people can keep going for longer than you think. Head wounds bleed a lot -- cut a slash across and you could probably blind 'em, buy yourself some time to get out. If you can't get at your knife, thumb to the eye works too."

Firm grip, aim for the head, slashing motion instead of actually stabbing...Strange is doing a good job trying to remember all of this but he knows he's going to have to write it all down later. He's got enough self-awareness to not put that much faith in his memory

But at the mention of a thumb to the eye, he can't help but smirk a little. "I think a thumb to the eye from me would hurt more than a thumb to the eye from most people."

He makes an idle wave with the hand that isn't holding the knife, mostly to show his clawed fingers. They're nothing too impressive, less than an inch on every nail, but that doesn't change the fact that a clawed thumb to the eye would hurt more than just a regular thumb.

"Good," is what Lambert says, simply. "Use that, and use any advantage you can get. Gentleman or not, they'll be happy to drain you all the same, so you might as well not fight like one."

There isn't really anything in the vicinity Strange can practice on except Lambert, and he's in no mood to get cut up, so that's more or less the end of the practical lesson there. What he will do, though, is raise his arm and mime drawing his knife an inch away from Strange's face.

"Remember: you're slow and you're weak," he says matter-of-factly. "Everything you do is about evening those odds."

Edited 2017-03-15 02:27 (UTC)

His expression changes on a dime, going from that far too proud smirk to a grumpy frown. Strange purses his lips slightly, as if he's about to challenge that statement. Lambert does have a point. After all, greatest magician of the age or not, he came from a world without vampires, without witchers, without demons or angels or what have you (none of which was hardly his fault, thank you very much).

But weak? He can't help but take a bit of personal offense at being called weak. He's summoned a faerie, raised the dead, he could travel almost anywhere he wished, he's the magician of the king and of the army, and he unlocked the secrets of madness. Sure, none of those facts might be of much use in a conventional fight, but that didn't make him weak.

"I'll grant you slow. But weak? Certainly not." With a small wave of his hand, the ground under Lambert's feet buckles, shifting and jutting up in an erratic way. It's entirely Strange being petty, just wanting to knock Lambert off his feet and remind him that while he might need help actually learning how to fight, that didn't make him a weakling.

Strange is partly successful, since Lambert stumbles when the ground shifts under him, but the brief moment of surprise is replaced quickly by sharp focus as he finds his feet, dancing back from the disturbed ground to give Strange an incredulous look. Really, what's offensive about stating an objective fact? It doesn't occur to Lambert in the least that Strange's definition of weakness is definitely different from his own and that might be why he's looking like Lambert just pissed in his wine.

The hand that isn't holding a knife, at his side, flicks through a series of short, quick gestures, and a circle of glowing purple glyphs appear in a circle around their feet, enclosing them both.

"Want to try that again?" he asks, crossing his arms.

Strange does the gesture again...but nothing happens. He knows he's performing the spell properly, he can feel the magic around them that's needed to perform the spell properly, but the effect just isn't happening. He takes a step forwards, as if to walk closer to Lambert but whoa does he suddenly feel weird now that he's moving. It's odd. Strange's mind is continuing to work at top speed, he just feels sluggish, as if he's weighed down for some reason. It's a bit like being in Atlantis again, when he was still learning how to actually swim, pushing himself through the water in order to actually get somewhere.

He can slightly sense the magic around them, the magic from Lambert's spell. And, well, glowing purple glyphs are a pretty solid indicator that this is magic as hell to begin with.

"You're showing off," he complains, with a roll of his eyes, entirely aware that this is the pot calling the kettle black.

That complaint just gets him a smirk. Lambert hadn't been entirely sure it would work -- who knew if magic between worlds was just that different or not -- but it's good to have one hypothesis confirmed.

"You started it," he says, unrepentantly. He doesn't seem affected by the slowing at all, but then again, it his his spell.

Strange takes a few steps forward. As he does, he lurches forward slightly, as if just the sheer action of walking is throwing him off balance. It looks comical for a moment, Strange moving about like a drunk on ice, before he gives Lambert a frown.

"I was making a point. You, on the other hand, are showing off."

Edited 2017-03-15 23:15 (UTC)

"Seemed like the other way around to me." Amusing as it is to watch Strange stumble around like a drunk, it's also a little bit sad, so he'll helpfully take this moment as an instructional one.

"This is about how fast you'd be to a vampire," he says, uncrossing his arms and beckoning at Strange to come at him, bro. "Now try attacking me like I taught you."

Well, more like lectured than taught, but he'll remember theory better if he puts it into practice, surely?

"I don't see how this would help. At least when I'm fighting a vampire, I'm not in danger of tripping over my own feet." Still, he uses the small talk to adjust his grip on the dagger slightly, holding it in a way that's more along the lines of how Lambert mentioned. It's still a bit wonky, but certainly better than what he's been doing before.

Lunging towards Lambert, Strange attempts to slash his dagger at the other man's eyes. But really, the key word here is attempts. Not only is Strange's aim off but the slowing effect of the magic circle causes him to stumble forwards, mind moving waaaay faster than his body. He at least slashes in the general vicinity of Lambert's eyes...though the slash happens a couple of inches away from the man's face. It's nowhere close to connecting, which is probably a good thing.

trailers! we're gonna have ALL THE THREADS.

every thread!

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