Lost Carnival Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ringleaders) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lostcarnival2017-03-17 02:58 pm
ringleaders) wrote in lostcarnival2017-03-17 02:58 pm
⇨ HOME AGAIN
Who: Anyone!
When: Day 68 - Day 72
Where: Carnival grounds.
What: Everyone makes it back to the carnival after their adventure in hell. The Ringmaster makes a new lake to celebrate, apparently.
Warnings: A notable absence of torture.
When: Day 68 - Day 72
Where: Carnival grounds.
What: Everyone makes it back to the carnival after their adventure in hell. The Ringmaster makes a new lake to celebrate, apparently.
Warnings: A notable absence of torture.
TO HELL AND BACK↴ The rescuers and the liberated captives will emerge from the portal like bats out of hell. Much like their previous return, this arrival will be met with a flurry of medical activity as everyone gets their injuries seen to, particularly those that had been held prisoner within Morningstar's hell fortress. It will still be night when they arrive, and the rest of Day 68 will be clouded over completely, for the benefit of the new vampires as they get settled in. After the immediate panic is dealt with, the Ringmaster will disappear into the forest until the morning of Day 69. It will be raining off and on during her absence. ► RECOVERY: Unlike the last time, the Ringmaster will be supplying the carnival workers with some healing potions from her private hoard, given that most of the healers are already wounded or spent. Damage caused by iron poisoning will not be cured by healing magic or healing items though, unfortunately, and those who have spent a lot of time in contact with iron will take at least a week to fully recover. However, regular healing remedies like bandages and herbs may help speed things along if the patient is suited to them. ► A BRAND NEW LAKE: On the morning of Day 69, the Ringmaster will return the forest to announce that she's built a new lake into the carnival grounds, only a short trail's distance from the backyard. Unlike most of the forest, this area won't just lead you in circles when explored, meaning that it can actually be modified and developed as the workers see fit. The water is always clean and just the right temperature for swimming, though it gets a bit cooler the deeper you swim. At the far side of the lake, there is a warm, stone pathway leading up the side of the mountain, that will eventually take you to some bangin' hot springs. Brought to you mostly because the Ringmaster doesn't know how to say sorry with actual words. At least it gives you something to play with while you try to shake off the trauma. ► FRUITS OF VICTORY: On Day 70, all the workers who came to hell for the rescue mission will be given a gift from the Ringmaster. Each of them will receive a bright green, glowing seed, about the size of your thumbnail. She will tell you that, when planted, the seeds will swiftly grow into a small citrus tree, which will grow fruits with regenerative properties. More details about these plants will be written up in a separate post, but for now your characters can ogle them and decide if they are going to plant them or not. ► TAKE ME TO CHURCH: Staring on Day 71, the Ringmaster will be starting to work on removing the vampirism from those infected with it, which apparently involves a lot of... meditation? She will take the newbie vampires out into a shady area of the forest and encourage them to look inside themselves and attempt to separate themselves spiritually from their demonic beasts. How well you character masters her teachings over time will determine whether or not she is ultimately capable of stripping out your demon soul and returning you to life. Of course, not all demons are made equal, and some will be more difficult to separate than others... |
assuming this is night-time, just because vampire!
"What? Weren't you talking about swimming?" If only it was so mundane, right? In any case, he's not sure what he's going on about traps for, but he'll shrug and drop down to sit next to him. Nothing better to do, for the moment. There's mud streaking his pants, though it cuts off at a certain point, like he'd been wearing boots before and just discarded them back ... somewhere.
"Depends on the mouse trap," he'll add, like the conversation still has a hope of making sense. "Heard mages sometimes try to catch them alive, so they can use 'em for their experiments."
Yeah, Foster's not big on the sun these days.... and tw for mention of animal death???
He didn't really talk to people a whole lot before he was contracted into this carnival against his will, and maybe it's a little obvious. But on that topic--
"You can just buy mice if you need them alive. At the point where you have to trap them, you're either desperate or... well, anyway, you can just buy them if you need them alive, haha!"
Foster had actually just trapped the mice he used to practice, but the mice were going to have to be dead anyway before he could do anything with them. He did end up with one mouse that was alive, but he'd had to take its head off in order to kill it humanely.
no subject
"Who knows? Maybe they just didn't want to spend the money." Not that mages are short of it, but those with the most wealth can also be the most selfish with it, in his experience ... so it's not as much of a surprise as it maybe ought to be.
At any rate, it's obvious this guy is a vampire, and Lambert's already heard a little bit about the efforts some of the other turned carnival workers were up to, so he's going to take a wild guess...
"Were you trying to meditate?"
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Luckily for Lambert, he diverts from the extremely hazardous topic of murdering animals and the inevitable subject of criminal magics to the.... only marginally less hazardous topic of 'meditating to identify the demon piggybacking inside his body.'
"Hahaha, no. I don't try to grow gills and breathe underwater, either!"
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After all, the Ringmaster had previously just straight up dunked them into the sea, where people grew tentacles, so gills are pretty tame in Lambert's opinion. He'd actually grown a pair himself, though he's glad they weren't permanent additions.
"You're not all there, are you?"
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It's why he looks completely unimpressed with that response until Lambert says something that finally makes him perk up.
"Oh, you noticed!"
He's bright-eyed suddenly, if not beaming. He doesn't think to question how Lambert deduced this--Foster assumes that his defect is something implicitly obvious to others--as visible as, say, the colour of his hair.
"You're mostly right! It's a disease. Don't worry, it's not contagious. It's unique--heh--it's unique to me. It's only natural to be repulsed, though. Feel free to avoid me, or spit on me, or whatever it is you feel like doing!"
He pauses, and then--as though perhaps this is reassuring:
"I am definitely all here, it's more like... hm, this is all there is. Basically nothing!"
no subject
Okay, that? Is super weird, right there, the enthusiasm that is right up in Lambert's face. Lambert's not entirely sure about what it is that he's said which set that off, and he definitely has no fucking clue what Foster is going on about with the whole disease thing, or why he's cheerfully telling Lambert to spit on him.
But hey, since he said he was fine with anything, the witcher will mull over it briefly.
"All right then," Lambert says, agreeably. At which point he'll lift a hand, flex his fingers, and attempt to shove Foster right into the water with invisible force, the spell as easy and thoughtless as breathing.
(WASTED)
Which, really, he wouldn't have been.
Either way, Lambert gets the satisfaction of watching his spell fling Foster out over the water, at which point gravity and momentum do the rest of his work for him--Foster hits the water's surface with a loud splash and disappears.
....literally.
Well, not literally. But after the bubbles have dissipated... after the ripples end... he doesn't come back up.
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When he hits around the five minute mark, if nothing further happens, Lambert shrugs, stands, and dusts his hands off on his pants. Well, he was wasn't much of a conversationalist anyway!
Pretend this tag didn't take me DAYS to write.............
It's not entirely unexpected. He, more than anyone else, is familiar with the treacherous landscape of his own brain. Memories are easily lost into holes, or cut off for want of a bridge, never to be seen again.
If he ever knew how to swim, he certainly doesn't any more.
Instead of fear--well, there's a few moments of alarm, that initial realisation of drowning, or at least sinking, of the fruitless attempt to claw his way back to the surface--but even then, there's no feeling of panic. Just... a momentary surprise.
There's another surprise, too.
The water... being underwater...
It feels... good.
And maybe it's that feeling, that moment of I'm-drowning, that sense of having experienced a closeness to death--but it's calming, too. Even visually. It's darker. Smoother, with the moonlight distorted by the surface in ripples and refractions. There's a kind of beauty to it.
He'd actually... be tempted to linger, were it not for Lambert. That, more than anything, is what motivates him to move. In his entire time as a member of this carnival, not a single person has taken him at his word before. Has taken the opportunity he placed in their hands--no matter how aggressively or explicitly he's tried to give it to them.
Trial and error--and a vague memory of what it looks like when other people swim--are his only means of achieving control over his situation, though. It's not mimicry of other humans that actually works, even--it's mimicking a frog, propelling himself back to the surface with strong, sweeping strokes of his arms and legs.
It takes just shy of four minutes for him to make it--probably long enough for Lambert to get bored, but he breaches the surface with a minute to spare, popping up from the depths like a really blond, unpersonable cork.
Sorry, Lambert. He's back!
"Ha! Hahaha! Incredible--you didn't even hesitate!"
And... he's really excited.
AND THEN I TOOK A MILLION YEARS TO REPLY BACK
And he's laughing. Yeahhh, forget being a few cards short of a full deck: this one doused the deck on fire, ate the ashes, and shat it out into something that might have been cards, once.
"What, do people usually not take you up on that?" By now, he's moved up to stand again, so he's looking down at Foster, smirking. "I'd be happy to do it anytime."
HI, KETTLE, I'M POT
He understands why. No matter how explicit he is--no matter how thoroughly he communicates his intentions--there's just no convincing some people. The fear of doing something 'wrong' is just too great. Which is sad.
Lambert, though... he admires his decisiveness. He comes across as a very forthright person. Standing over the lake like that, with such a smug smile... so comfortable with his superiority over someone like him... it's a very powerful image. Inspiring.
Foster's eyelids drop to half-mast, an odd smile on his face.
"No, it's not about me--you're free to do whatever you want. You can come find me any time you like!"
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Regardless, he files the whole incident under 'weird, don't want details, but could be useful to know' in his head -- maybe he'll get bored enough and need target practice one day? He can't think of many other reasons to summon a vampire just to kick him around. Out loud, all he says is--
"Might be easier if I had a name to call." He raises a brow. It's a practical enough consideration. One of the useful features of the voice-box things is the facilitation of communication, and it would be a lot faster to summon someone with one of those than try to sniff around all the expanse of the carnival, with its endless boltholes and places an enterprising individual might hide.
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"Foster. Foster van Denend, but I don't think half the people here have surnames anyway." Notably, there's no followup request for Lambert's name--it's up to Lambert whether or not he bestows that honour on him, after all!
So, you know. There's a good chance he won't learn jack, and that's his own damn fault.
At least he technically knows that.
This time.
no subject
Also, Foster's still soaking wet, and frankly for all the disclaimer about 'not being contagious' (not that it matters anyway; witchers and contracting diseases aren't really a thing) Lambert's not partiuclarly inclined to touch him, anyway.
"Anyway," Lambert brushes himself off. "Got better things to do than stand around and chat. See you around." He turns away with a lazy wave, heading off to the mountain path. There's so much else to explore in this place, after all.