lostcarnival | It's a TOURIST TRAP....OF DEATH.

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It's a TOURIST TRAP....OF DEATH.

Who: Carly, Jack, Lambert, some poor NPC sap....
When: 'October 10th, 2017'
Where: Portland area, in the new reality- Specifically Sanctuary, and some random abandoned office building.
What: TERRIBLE SNACKRIFICES FOR SOULS!!!
Warnings: Carly is literally murdering a man (it won't be given much detail however and the log itself is mostly chatter before and outside the scene.)

[Anath's forces were on the move. Scouts were now appearing, trying to convince her to their side of things, and while she was nervous, Aslla seemed to be growing even more antsy with the passing days. 'We need more power,' he finally hissed, practically breaking his voice as it shook. 'I need SOULS!'

She had balked, of course. It was hard enough to get one soul, but multiple? And the things it would take...

...So he dangled their agreement over her head. An agreement that, unbeknownst to her, wasn't even real, an agreement that only Aslla Piscu knew to be false...

...But even with her thoughts scrambling hour after hour, it still felt so important.

So.

One soul, she agreed. She would conduct the ritual, and with any luck claw their way to the strength they needed to weather out the tide. Did Aslla already have enough strength? Would he make it just getting a single soul's worth? she didn't know.

They had to try though, right?]

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[ That sounds considerably less worrisome than what Lambert had in mind (and makes the need for a circle of flames around them needlessly dramatic) but nonetheless, he can't waste any more time on this than he already has.

So: Lambert holds out a clenched fist, chin lifted slightly in challenge. ]

Fine. Then if I get to choose a game, I choose ... rock-paper-scissors. Best out of three.

What?! [Jack looks offended, pointing at the box again.]

That wasn't one of the options!

I've never played any of these, so I don't know how they work. [ Lambert says, testily. And it's true, if strange -- he really can't remember how the hell to play any of these, for all that he vaguely recognizes them. ]

Are you going to at least explain the rules?

Forget it, I was never that invested in these childish games to begin with.

[Jack kicks the box aside, and it leads one to wonder just where he even got them.]

Let's play a real game, between men!

[ Lambert sidesteps the box's contents as they go scattering, spilling the cards of an ancient edition of Trivial Pursuit and Sun Maid Monopoly straight into the fire. No one's playing those anytime soon. ]

Fine. [ He tenses, shifting into a crouch and ready to put his fists up at a second's notice. ] Show me what you've got.

[ Because surely he's talking about a fistfight, right? ]

[Was that Trivial Pursuit on VHS?]

I don't plan on holding back! [Jack rolls up the sleeve of his right arm, the Crimson Dragon's birthmark clear and red as it stretches across his forearm. Then he leans over a stack of crates and slams his elbow down onto them, holding up his hand.]

Arm wrestling? [ Is this guy for real? Briefly, Lambert considers just slamming through the door regardless of what this -- demon or whatever it is wants -- but instead he steps over swiftly to the crates, shrugging off one sleeve of his jacket and taking up his position across Jack. ]

Let's make this quick. [ His fingers clasp Jack's hand, firmly. ] Count of three?

[Jack looks nothing but serious, and as Lambert approaches, he doesn't waver from his declaration or his stance.

He nods his head as their hands lock.] The first hand to hit the table loses!

[The the countdown begins, and as soon as they reach "go", Jack is putting all the strength he has into his arm. He may not look it through all those layers of garb, but Jack was pretty strong.]

[ Lambert is no pushover himself, so he throws himself into the arm wrestling with as much strength as he can muster, no compromise. Of course, at the end of the day, he is just an ordinary human, so who knows if he can actually beat out a demon in a physical duel like this?

Either way, the crates creak dangerously under the weight of their struggle, not being particularly well-made or durable. Lambert's already getting a damn splinter in his elbow. ]

Edited 2017-07-06 17:28 (UTC)

[Jack is not inhumanly strong, and even though he sits above average in strength, the two of them are a fairly even match. His grip is firm and for awhile they hover around a stalemate, never straying too far in either direction. As time passes though, Jack's hand begins to be slowly pushed back, inching closer to the crate.]

...! [Realizing this he gets a burst of energy, and he puts it all into his arm so he can push Lambert back instead, giving him the lead--for the moment.]

[ Jack may be driven by a need to win, but Lambert's driven by a far more desperate urge -- the desire to know the truth. He doesn't know who or what's behind that door, but if this guy is the only thing standing between him and that? Fuck it, he's going to give it all he's got.

Jack pushes him all the way back to the other side, and his arm trembles under the effort, but Lambert's mind races through all the scenarios. For all he knows, it could be his sisters that need him behind that door, or John, and that thought? It's enough to make him snarl, sweat sliding down the side of his face. ]

Fuck! [ He doesn't have time for this! Lambert suddenly finds a burst of energy from a reserve he hadn't even known he had, muscles in his arm bulging as he gains back the ground he's lost and forces Jack's hand slamming down to the crate. ]

[He's experienced two losses recently. A third would be humiliating, but even more than that there's the condition of his first loss; guard Carly while she works at all costs. If he fails to even do that much, he won't be able to show his face for awhile.]

Ghh... I won't let you through this door! [He could stall. That's why he'd hoped to pick a game that would take long enough for Carly to get finished before they even reached an outcome. It wasn't his initial plan, but he thought he could do that easily with arm wrestling.

Even when Jack finds it in him to push himself beyond his limits, Lambert matches him and, with no other option but to try and hold out against it, his hand slams into the crate after a brief struggle.

He almost can't believe it once he's lost, even as his fingers slip away and he stares down in disbelief.]

[ Lambert isn't about to waste any time crowing about his victory, because that feeling in his stomach just went from 'mildly uncomfortable' to 'total freefall.' He pushes himself up from the crate, quickly, much more able to accept the outcome than Jack is. ]

Sorry. It's over. [ And with that dramatic pronouncement, he's staggering over to the door to turn the handle and shove it open -- provided it isn't, you know. Locked or something inconvenient like that. ]

[Jack comes to his senses quickly enough, jerking around to face the door as Lambert grabs the handle. He can't do anything to stop him, upon losing the flames had dissipated on their own, and Jack had no right to stop him. One bet effectively overrode the other.]

C-- [The least he can do is warn her, but using her name would be foolish.] Hide!

[As soon as Lambert opens the door and steps inside, he can do whatever he wants to stop him.]

[The ritual was exhausting, and one Carly managed to finish just as Lambert completed his 'duel'. It was punctuated by hesitance, and by a demon urging onward into things even he did not understand, as chalk lines were made into hairline trenches and paths for blood. The victim was in the center.

And was, was a good was to describe him. As her fires had consumed the body it reduced them to a husk, but one that bled along the lines like gasoline in cloth. And as the fire had burned, it caught onto this 'fuel', carving images of hummingbirds into her mind.

The more she performed, the more confused her thoughts became. Her words, some lost and demonic variety of Quechua, became stuttering despite them doing their work, met with Aslla himself barely keeping words coherent enough to say 'keep going'.

To take a soul was so much easier back home. Set the card, let the lines of fire tear the earth, and crumble any inside to dust as their souls were claimed. It was cleaner. He had gained thousands that way. And yet here was all this ceremony for one.

Aslla Piscu was caught off guard. But he had insisted all the same, feeling the subtle boost earned from the energy of the Soul and spirit, and as the candles lining the outermost edge of the circles leading to Carly burned with hell fire, Carly herself slumped. Her breathing haggard, her clothes stained, the scent of copper and ash in the air.

She can hear Jack shouting.

She can hear the door opening.

She doesn't feel able to move, instead curling on the spot and breaking down.]

[ The room smells like death.

That's the first thing that comes to Lambert's mind, and with it comes a sharp roll of nausea that sends his vision swimming. Unfortunately, it's not enough to keep him from seeing the scene inside, and it's not good. It looks like something out of the nightmares that have been keeping him from getting any real sleep at night, a crumpled body in the middle of a ritual circle, illuminated by dim, flickering candlelight.

(Not the worst you've seen, some strange, clinical part of his mind notes. At least there's only one body.)

He doesn't step through the threshold -- he stumbles backwards, arms almost hitting Jack again as he reels, face going sheet white. Because even ragged and crumpled in on herself, he recognizes who that is. ]

Carly?!

[It's lucky that Lambert doesn't barrel in, because Jack had every intention of dragging him to the ground if he tried. At least, that was his plan before the gruesome sight fully registers and even the self-proclaimed King is left wide-eyed and gawking, his heart wrenching in his chest.

He's not sure what he expected, but it hadn't been this.

Ignoring Lambert entirely he steps forward, but his feet stop him in the doorway, even if his arm is able to reach past it. Useless, even if he could reach her from several feet away, all he had to offer was a pathetic hand on the shoulder.

What?

He shouldn't care, this was only part of his losing conditions. He didn't agree with it, and he was angry to have helped it along, but the anguish he was feeling now was disproportionate to what it should be.]

Hey... [Cough.]

[The voices are muffled. She can't even hear Aslla at this point, and her eyes just glaze over the room before her, as she finds herself unable to stand. Eventually her voice rasps-quiet, like sand, breaking an awkward and momentary silence and making it worse.]

....It's done, [she says simply, and she finds her eyes not merely clouding but also wet, somehow.]

...I...

...I have to clean this now, [she says yet quieter, either unaware or merely ignoring the fact that Lambert is with them now.]

Holy shit.

Really, holy shit?

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lambert says out loud, and not quietly either, his voice echoing and amplified by the warehouse. The sheer incredulity at everything that's happening is what's going to galvanize him into actually staggering into the warehouse, even if all he wants to do is run away and forget he ever saw this.

"What the hell are you doing?! I thought you were a reporter!" His voice might crack a bit on the last word, just because yeah, this is on a level of not cool he's not fully prepared to deal with. He doesn't even know what he can do here, but it seems strange to just watch.

This is none of your concern! [Jack finally snaps back to his senses, turning back to face Lambert and attempting in some way to shield him from seeing, or going any closer to Carly.]

I had to let you in here since I lost, but once that's over, there aren't any rules to stop me from kicking you back out!

[Lambert's words cut like a salted knife, forcing her gaze to remain on the evidence of what has been done. She is quiet, so quiet, even as Jack shouts and stands between them, and even Aslla is silent, as she mentally tries to place Lambert's voice.] I...

...I am... [A reporter? Not for years, she initially thinks, but then what was she doing just days ago? But she remembers the feel of a needle and thread, and more importantly the thrill of some form of travel, and it burns her head as she stares at all the burned blood and flesh. It makes her think of another place, a place Aslla Piscu SHOULD have come from, she thinks, and yet he couldn't have, it seems so wrong-

She takes a shuddering breath.] ...You should leave... [She finally says-and while it's most likely directed at only one, it could well be both for all they knew.]

[ Lambert doesn't need to be told twice. The sight, the smell ... something awful just happened here. He straight up isn't going to bother responding verbally to Carly or Jack -- he's simply going to turn and run, scrambling off into the dark, probably to throw up in another alley.

His dreams aren't going to be pleasant tonight ... though they won't be as bad as Carly's.

Assuming she still has a soul to be troubled by what she's just done. ]

Edited 2017-07-19 18:21 (UTC)

[Jack would be too stubborn to leave no matter what she said. He pays little mind to Lambert once it's clear, to Jack anyway, that he's decided to head his warning and leave.

It's better not to make a scene in front of Carly right now. That's what Jack thinks as he turns around, but the moment the body hits enters his field of vision, a fresh wave of nausea rolls over him.

Even the great Jack Atlas' voice wavers.] Carly... We should leave.

[They should. They need to. She knows they need to.

But somehow Carly can't move. Her eyes keep staring, and her body shakes, Jack's voice resonating with something, something strong, something deep-]

....I've made a terrible mistake... ...haven't I?

[Jack won't deny it, and he won't try to lessen the blow. The truth was simple, as disgusting and ugly as it was.]

Our mistakes don't make us who we are, but how we try to rectify them. You'll have to work hard to make up for what you've done.

[He reaches down and grabs her arm, pulling her up. He'll repeat it again,] We should leave. That man might call the police.

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let me know if this wooorks

Jack got Wasted

RIP Jack maybe third time's the charm

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I mean its not loving detail but WARNINGS FOR BLOOD AND..STUFF.

WELP

RIP also sorry for slow, IRL

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itt: lambert fails his willpower AND constitution saving throws

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