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... |
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He tried to think back on what he was doing. Oh yeah, he was indeed hungry. That was pretty much the main reason he'd reluctantly emerged from the trailer and into this wet nonsense.
"Where did you find me?"
He could only vaguely remember his half-sleepwalk, he'd assumed he must have pointed himself in the right direction and hope he was on autopilot the rest of the way.
"Anything is fine, really."
Well, anything meat-related.
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"Found you doing your best zombie shuffle in the vague direction of the cookhouse. I'm guessing for something to eat and maybe someplace to warm up with so many people around." Jimmy's not even trying to hide how worried he is. He'd been joking about the accidental hibernation line, and here it was Sherlock had almost had one. "Maybe we should put a hot plate or a coffee maker in your trailer, so you can always have hot enough water if you need it. If we can't find you electric blankets or a heating pad." Coffee maker because then the bottle would be easier to fill than sticking it under a shower.
"Next time you get this bad, call me. Public if you have to, if I didn't give it to you before, my personal frequency is 660.24462. Or call the Cookhouse. They'll get word to me." God only knows what would happen to Sherlock if Jimmy hadn't come by, and personally, Jimmy would rather avoid finding out.
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It's obvious to even those without deductive abilities that Jimmy was worried. This reminded him quite too much of John, which brought a pang of regret and relief that his friend did not have to see him...in this state. Or making the terrible mistakes he'd been making lately. He'd made enough of them in John's presence as it was.
"To be honest, I thought I could take it," he said admittedly, committing Jimmy's frequency to memory, just in case. "I didn't quite realize how quickly it could all go south."
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"Makes sense, this is the first really bad chill we've had since.... Everything. And it was probably for the best that it happened here, where someone could get you help." Jimmy takes a sip of his own coffee before getting Sherlock something to eat. No roast beef this time, looks like sausages on rolls. "Next stop, we're stocking you up on emergency supplies. And definitely some kind of portable heater."
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A clawed hand reached out to take a couple of the sausages on rolls. They were rather good.
"I suppose you're right," Sherlock didn't really like the idea of being so...beholden to something like that. It was yet another reminder of how different he was. Why couldn't he have gotten some other change, like the others? Some glowing shapes on his skin, a little hair color change, that wouldn't have been so bad.
"If it's not one thing, it's another," the detective said wryly, with a shrug. "Pity it's come to this extreme. Frightfully annoying." He could only hope that he didn't change further. What else was there?
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"At the next stop, we're getting you some portable heaters, maybe some hand warmers. And...." Jimmy stops with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm nagging you. I'll stop. I've never seen you like that and it scared the hell out of me."
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Another pang of missing John. He tried to bury the feeling, like he did when he was away for those two years.
Just don't think about it. You'll be home before you know it. It won't be that long, in the end.
"...I don't mind. I'm used to it." There was a faint thread of humor in his voice, coupled with nostalgia. He held up one of the sausages. "These are quite good. Did you make them?"
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"I'm guessing you've got another prematurely gray idiot who's taken it upon themselves to look after you and drive themselves crazy in the process?" He grins, partly in teasing, partly in relief that as soon as Sherlock went home, he wouldn't be walking straight off the metaphorical cliff as soon as he was out of Jimmy's eyesight.
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"Oh indeed, it's apparently a full-time job to look after me, or so he says," Sherlock said, trying to keep the wistfulness and nostalgia out of his voice, and sound casual. "It's a good thing John's not here though, he probably would have locked me in the trailer for the rest of the year if he found out what I was truly up to."
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"That.... That I can believe." Jimmy kind of has to wonder about the pay rate, since shepherding Sherlock is most certainly a full time job. "What's it like, back home where you're from?"
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"Home?" He seems a bit caught off guard, and he chews thoughtfully for a moment before continuing.
"Home is London. Cases, running, chasing, endless fun. John and I, his daughter Rosie, Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly Hooper, my brother, Mycroft..." He trailed off, sounding wistful. They were his family, after all.
"We work out of 221 B Baker Street, clients come up to our flat with their problems and their little mysteries." Clearly it was everything the detective could ever want, and he looked rather smitten. Maybe this was the true love of his life, his work, taking on cases with John, and having adventures.
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Sherlock seemed rather pleased to be talking about it, he was very easily flattered and the interest in his work from Jimmy was hitting all the right notes.
"Solving puzzles and crime, the weirder the better. TV usually gets it wrong, the more difficult ones have a lot of legwork involved, and it can sometimes end a lot quicker than what they'd showed. Sometimes I can solve it without even leaving the flat." He sounded pretty smug at that.
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"But... And you probably get asked this a lot, and I apologize, but what's your most memorable case. The one you feel most... accomplished about, after you finished it." Because really, for a paper pushing nobody from nowhere, Sherlock is equal parts fascinating and frustrating.
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"Radio ad sales...what does that even entail?" He doesn't mean to sound condescending, he truly doesn't know. Sherlock specialized in information, if it was irrelevant, he didn't have any space for it, or deleted it some time ago. It gave him both the ability to be a scarily intelligent genius and a daft, scatterbrained idiot.
"My most memorable case?" A blink. That was...difficult. There were many he attached particular emotional significance to. "Accomplished? I suppose...well, everything about Jim Moriarty, I suppose. He was a consulting criminal, basically my literal opposite. He had a massive criminal network that I managed to take down over two years. But...oh, the game he played was incredible."
There's a hint of definite longing in Sherlock's voice. Despite being his greatest enemy, he missed Jim. Jim understood him like no one else, not even John did.
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"Mostly? Selling ad space in between songs on the radio. Or whatever inane idiot got themselves a talk radio program." Jimmy shrugs. "It wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills." Although he looks thoughtful for a moment, before going back to Sherlock's conversation.
"A consulting..." Jimmy tries to make sense out of that one and fails, miserably. Although with as fondly as Sherlock speaks about the battle of wits, he shouldn't have been surprised that they both made up remarkably similar job titles for themselves. Jimmy just wondered who'd come up with it first.