lostcarnival | ⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

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⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

Who: Anyone, anywhere in Portland.
When: October 1st - 7th, 2017
Where: Portland area, in the new reality.
What: Memories begin returning to the displaced as the fall gets chillier. How the hell did we end up here, again? Also, apparently, the fair is in town.
Warnings: Individually marked!

PORTLAND BY NIGHT↴

Memory regains will come into effect at the beginning of October, to whatever degree you've decided upon, and may be regained at whatever pace you desire from then on. For those with their full carnival memories, it will be like waking up in the body of someone else - for those with half and half, it will be like rapidly recalling sets of memories from a totally different life. Those with full amnesia will simply feel as if this is how it's always been.

Unfortunately for you, memories aren't the only thing you have to deal with. The supernatural community of Portland is bustling all of a sudden - could your presence and these events somehow be related?

► THE OUTER CIRCLE: As of the start of the month, the Portland Circle of Enlightenment will find itself starting to get swarmed with members from other chapters. Most notably, it would seem that a small cabal of top mages from the North American Enlightenment Council will be making their home in Portland's HQ. For anyone but the highest of ranks, the purpose behind their visit will be unclear, but it seems like something is definitely up on a metaphysical level. The Circle will be buzzing with rumours of unique planar activity and threatening omens. It seems that it all started with an unusual flare of activity in the planetary ley-lines, starting approximately a week ago. However, even if you would usually be the type to keep tabs on such things, you will find that you oddly have no memory of observing this phenomenon yourself.

► THE ANIMAL FAIR: Good news, the fair is in town! Or, at least, it would be good news... if this was a regular fair. Instead, what's being observed is a bunch of nearly identical flyers, spread all around Portland - each of which bears only the words "THE ANIMAL FAIR", a seemingly bloody paw-print of unknown origin, and the directions to a vague forested location outside of the city. It's dated for October 7th, and all instances of its posting having been discovered with a scattering of rose petals, crow feathers, and pre-burnt matches laying on the ground around them. Most are taking this to be some kind of bizarre viral marketing campaign, but others may know better.

► THE EARTH SPIRIT: If you have connections to The Pack or any of its many variations, you'll probably hear whispers of something very odd that occurred last week - according to the elders, it sounds as if the Earth Spirit, the magical and spiritual center of the planet, has suddenly taken a wound. It's not clear why or how, but there is a fair bit of concern among spiritual types, as it is werebeast belief and nebulous magical fact that the magical forces within the earth are the source of all magic here, as well as the source of life. While many werebeasts claim to have felt the Spirit succumb, you strangely have no memory of such an event occurring. Though things do feel strange, if you know how to tap into the Spirit yourself.

► THE WAR CRY: Though Anath's rain of terror across North America lasted for the first fifteen years or so of the Severing, most independent demons have had enough time to start taking the arch-demon's relative inactivity for granted. For that first while, the warrior queen had seemed determine to rebuild an army on earth by forcing her scattered brethren into service - only for her to gradually settle down in a fortress somewhere in Texas and dig in her heels. Of course, this was too good to last - it sounds as if she and her demonic legion have begun tearing their way up the west coast, their goals remaining a mystery. Their destination, however, is almost certainly Portland.

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Despite Amethyst apparently having been talking, Sans seems mostly unresponsive. He's slumped down inside of his vine bindings, his wings crumpled at his sides as they are clamped down by the same magical flowers. Most of his eyes are empty of pupils, and, for the moment, he doesn't seem to see any reason to look up or react.

No offense Amethyst, but you being here is pretty incidental for this guy. Still, her shouting gets his attention, and once he sees her, it's pretty much impossible to miss Sans. Still, coming upon the both of them just totally out in the open with no one around to look after them feels way to convenient to be a good thing. He can't help but worry it's somehow a trap and so he stops short at the sight of them.

"Any idea how to break them free?" he says, doing his best to keep his voice down. He's speaking mostly to Greg, but if Foster has any ideas he's more than happy to hear them. He reaches, for the pocket knife he's brought intending on simply cutting them loose should there be no better options.

It's only at the sound of the demon's voice that causes Sans to stir and look up, a few of his eye sockets flickering with light as his inclined head levels a wary look at his 'friend.' Up until now he's been more or less assuming that he intended to do whatever this was - he couldn't think of any other reason it would have happened. The feeling of betrayal has had hours to stew at this point, and with the other things plaguing him since he woke up, it's hard to force down his swelling feelings of paranoia and dread.

He doesn't say anything, though, because he's measuring their reactions. Sans is hard to read at the best of times, but there is a wild look of hurt and fear in his eyes that is hard to miss, if you know him at all.

Edited 2017-06-19 19:22 (UTC)

The sight of Sans brings visible relief in Greg. The idea of an angel getting captured and held is freaky enough on its own to make him unsure about what they'd find in here. Whatever else Nighyshade is up to, at least his friend is alive. And the other captive--

He does a double take. Amethyst? Sure, he'd heard her name, but he hadn't expected--why does she look like that, why would she be-- how does he know her again...?

The demon's voice pulls Greg out of his confusion. Right--right, he can't afford to be distracted right now. He puffs out a breath, and rummages through his jacket for supplies.

"I've got a few options, hang on." While he extends out his senses through the earth, trying to get a feel for any extra traps in the circles, Greg pulls out his supplies. A spray bottle of enhanced weed killer, a few runes, his own bag of iron pellets, and a heck of a lot of salt. He doesn't want to use much of his own magic around here, but he can still bring in what others have prepared.

Incidental to one of them, maybe, but it evens out: Foster doesn't actually give one entire fuck about Sans, except that the lack of response from the angel makes him concerned about Amethyst. It's nothing personal.

He's torn between the fact that she's obviously feeling relatively okay--and the fact that she just broadcasted their presence to anyone around. He glances at his demon, briefly--partially to gauge a reaction because of Sans, partially because, honestly, there's no answer to that question that isn't stupid. He's already getting up--there's no point in trying to be sneaky now. Speed is better than stealth at this point.

"The jig's up already."

He looks at Greg's options--they actually don't suck, which is kind of a relief, to be honest. Because he didn't really have that many tricks in his toolbox.

It was probably impossible for a demon to understand, but when he chose to become a warlock, that was the appeal of a pact to begin with.

"And I'm a fucking bear."

When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

Amethyst's opened her mouth to yell some more, but stops short when she sees who it actually is. Her eyes widen... and then narrow, a sort of indignant, injured squint. She is, so glad to see her brother (and also, this one other guy, who seems unaccountably familiar–?), but she feels like an idiot for the fact that her first thought wasn't that this is some kind of magic fairy illusion bullshit.

"What kinda dumb trick is this?" she hisses.

The look Sans gives him is painful, and though he's stupid dumb when it comes to feelings, he's pretty sure the reason is guilt. He tries to ignore it, getting distracted now would probably be the worst thing he could do. Instead he takes his knife out of his pocket and flips it open. He gives bear Foster a look, trusting him to stay chill until shit gets real before turning back to the hostages.

"Stay alert." His eyes flick to Greg and his supplies, but he's not moving so the demon takes a step closer instead. "Any chance I can just cut them free?"

"I wouldn't go physical with it. Not with those circles around them, at least." Walking into a fairy circle is just asking to put yourself under their power. "Lemme see what I can do."

After a steadying breath, Greg gives the captives another look. There's something completely surreal about the scene, and it's not the fae surroundings. Even though he'd mostly come for Sans, Greg can't stop looking at Amethyst. "It's a pretty dumb trick, but hopefully it's not on you guys."

Without sensing any extra traps or dangers, Greg aims his magically enhanced weedkiller and gives a good spray to the roots and fungus. In a city like Portland where such a powerful nature fae resides, mixes like this aren't too uncommon. He just hopes Nightshade's magic isn't past it.

Edited 2017-06-20 16:04 (UTC)

A few seconds after the spray has settled onto the fae circle trap, the mushrooms will begin to flicker and shrivel beneath it, and those attuned to magic will feel the power of the circle begin to weaken as the mushrooms slowly die. As the fungus perishes, it releases small clouds of glittery spores, with effects unknown.

The vines are being more stubborn, however. Though the bottoms of them start to brown with the burn of the weedkiller, they keep a hold of their captives.

Shortly after, the flowered vines on the trees around them will begin to shift, like snakes slithering around branches.

Honestly, those spores worry Greg more than the shifting vines, but the important thing is the mushrooms are down and they need to move.

"All right, now going physical is good, it's time to move!"

He quickly pulls his scarf up over his mouth and grips his spray bottle along with the runes he brought, designed to dispel enchantments and charms. Not of great use against physical vines or flowers, admittedly.

Edited 2017-06-20 17:38 (UTC)

Psi steps forward without hesitation, holding his breath as he gets to work cutting Sans free. Most of his focus, however, is on their currently active surroundings. The sharp iron blade makes quick work of the vines holding his friend captive, however, and soon he's holding a hand out towards Sans to help him stand if he needs it.

"We need to go."

Edited 2017-06-20 17:55 (UTC)

As soon as the mushrooms begin to die, Sans can star feeling the difference. He strains his wings against the vines again, his mind racing with paranoid and contradicting thoughts. All of it comes to the same conclusion - he has no idea what's going on, and he doesn't trust anyone here further than he can throw them. Things will have to start making sense again before he can do that.

With the circle's power fading, it means more of Sans's angelic power can return. As Psi cuts, some of the other vines begin to snap, and before Psi can help him up Sans has already spread his wings in an etheric flash of holy light, breaking his remaining bonds and launching himself into the air. His halo returns full force, as he raises an arm and summons an angelic blade in the form of a scythe made of light.

All seven eyes are filled with blue light as he looks down at the other three, and there is nothing particularly friendly about his expression - it's hard to tell with Sans at the best of time, but right now there is nothing but defensive fear and preemptive aggression.

He says something incomprehensible in angelic, before pointing the scythe down at Psi.

"This some kind of joke to you?" he snaps, and his sense of betrayal is clear.

He recoils, hissing in pain as he's blinded by the light of Sans' aura. His hand covers his face as he blinks, trying to regain his vision as his eyes water. Despite the way he pulls away from the holy light the angel's anger isn't unexpected, in fact it's welcome. Sans weapon is suddenly there, pointing in his direction, and even as he's filled with a deep sense of dread there's a sick sense of satisfaction running through him and his lips curve up into a smile. It's the reaction he's been afraid of, but exactly what he deserves. He wants Sans to hurt him and he wants to feel pain. Maybe then this gut wrenching feeling of disgust will finally dissipate and leave him be.

"I wish it was!" he shouts back, and he sounds delirious. He looks up to Sans, not even bothering to defend himself from the threat the angel presents. If Sans wanted to kill him right now, he would let him, smiling while the angel ripped him to pieces.

Edited 2017-06-20 19:14 (UTC)

"Woah! Woah woah woah."

Greg raises his hands to Sans, eyes darting anxiously back to the demon. He certainly won't stand between the two, but this is all a bit sudden. It's not exactly a shock that the two of them might clash, angels and demons or whatever. He'd taken the demon's word on faith that they were friends, but he's more likely to trust Sans's, for lack of a better word, judgement on the matter... except for one important aspect.

"Sans, I know--I know you've probably been through a lot, and are freaking out, but just--just, can you put it on hold a few minutes, until we get out of here? Please?!"

As far as Foster is concerned, magic circles are always bad news unless they're yours. Demon, mage, fae... he's happy to let Greg handle it while he strips off his shirt, already changing as he does. For a few unsettling seconds, he's neither human nor bear, but a shifting mixture of bristling blonde fur and brown skin. The flesh recedes from the final joint of each finger as they lengthen into massive claws, his bones growing and thickening, a few hundred pounds of extra muscle reshaping him into an actual beast.

The black, pulp murder mystery style graphic tee with the words KNOT YOUR USUAL SUSPECTS is left behind in the grass as he--how did Greg put it?

Gets physical.

Bears are not exactly superb jumpers, so there's nothing to do but trample the remains of the withering mushrooms and their spores as he gallops in, ignoring the drama between demon and angel completely in favour of Amethyst, because to be honest, she's all he cares about in this entire suicidal endeavour, she's the only reason he's here at all and he's been so angry, so anxious, so fucking DONE, that instead of going for the vines, he grabs his sister bodily in his massive, hairy arms and attempts to rip her from their coiling grasp instead of the other way around.

He takes in a breath, trying to regain his calm focus from moments before, but his earlier resolve is shattered. He knew Sans would be angry, he expected it and seeing it is somehow a relief and a punch to the gut. His feelings are confusing, nonsensical, and contradictory. That's nothing new, if anything it's a constant. He can't let whatever this is distract him. He has to tell Sans the truth, but somehow that idea is even more terrifying than letting the angel destroy him. His nerves overwhelm him. His fingers tighten around the blade handle in his hand.

"I didn't- I didn't know this would happen." he interrupts himself with a laugh that's completely devoid of mirth. "We came here to rescue you."

It's sounds so laughable, so pathetic. It's the truth yet he can't even bring himself to look at San's face.

Sans's many eyed gaze flickers over to Greg with an initial air of pointed suspicion, though it softens after only a moment. Then it shifts over to Foster, tearing away at the vines binding Amethyst, and finally back to Psi. It's impossible to sort all of this out quickly enough to know how to react to this.

How could Psi not know? What was he even doing? What happened to Sans just now? Are the things even related?

Though it's hard to not look commanding when you're hovering in the air and pointing a holy weapon at people, there's something about Sans's movements and the ways his eyes dart around that betrays his panic completely. He's like a cornered animal. His claws may be out, but it isn't helping him to feel any more in control.

He gives Psi one last look, straining as if physically hurt by his inability to figure out what to do with this. Finally, be swipes his scythe uselessly through the air and bolsters his wings, bursting into flight and disappearing into the trees without another word.

"Oof--"

Amethyst squints up at the enormous bear, very lightly dazed, as the vines begin to give way. She can hear the others talking, but she can't see what's going on because there's a bear in the way, and that's commanding way more of her attention than the conversation going on past the wall of fur.

"Shit, F-man, is it really you??"

In response, Foster opens his predatory maw and enthusiastically fits it over Amethyst's entire head, generously sliming her hair and face with drool.

He doesn't put her down, either--which turns out to be a very good thing, as he becomes aware of the standoff next to them. He has no intention of getting involved--Sans' abrupt, threatening departure is actually a relief. One less thing to worry about.

Amethyst's head is freed from his mouth, if not his drool--a long strand of it connects his furry jowls to her hair for a moment, eventually breaking as he speaks.

"...... Awkward." And he's not talking about Amethyst. He... missed the first part of what happened, so he only got the tail end of it. The tail end of.... whatever... bad news that was. He's... aware he should be more concerned, but--

"Let's bail." He looks at Psi, almost like he's expecting something.

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⇨ The Tourist Trap: WEEK 1

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