lostcarnival | ⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

Entry tags:

⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 138 - Day 152
Where: The Summerlands
What: The Ringmaster brings the carnival to the Summerlands immediately after being freed from Portland so that everyone can take a fucking nap. Her included.
Warnings: Individually marked! Most likely discussion of torture and trauma in here.

DAYS OF SUMMER↴

You made it! And things are back to normal... more or less. Upon waking, you will be greeted with a clear blue sky and gentle breeze – the carnival has found itself situated between a pair of mountain peaks, with great fields of flowers extending in the distance. In the other direction, you’ll see mountain-top cities and tall waterfalls accenting vast swaths of forest.

Some of you will already know this place. It’s the Summerlands. You game here once to rest in safety nearly a year ago, and now you’ve come to rest once again.

► WAKING UP: Shortly after the carnival arrives, the Ringmaster will send out a somewhat cryptic radio message - but her immediate location won't be clear. Whatever items you had on your person at the time the Severing was broken will still be on your person, including whatever clothing. All of the animals and pets of the carnival will have returned to the grounds as well, though they are currently free from their designated living spaces. Things in the carnival will appeared to have naturally aged a month, as if the carnival was been sitting here empty and waiting while everyone was in Portland. The lawn needs mowing.

► SUMMER CITY: After the Summer Fae become aware of everyone's presence, they will welcome you into their city. There are stairs that lead up the sides of the mountains, but thankfully there are also magical means of getting up there as well. The Summer Fae will be willing to help workers with the injured as needed, offering herbal remedies and healing magic to those that want it. You'll also be invited to join them for dinner, but they will not be particularly offended if they are turned down, for now.

► SUMMER PEOPLE: The fae here will mostly enjoy the company of any carnival members that offer it - it doesn't seem that much happens here besides day after day of peaceful meditation and relaxation. It is not uncommon to see Summer Fae spent days doing exactly the same thing, whether that be enjoying the weather, listening to music, or dancing - the day and night periods may be similar to earth, but when you don't need rest it can all blur together just the same. Some of the fae work on feats of agriculture or craftsmanship, and while there is no particularly need to work in this place, they take pride in the fact that they do.

► NEW ARRIVALS: Though the Ringmaster will not be offering much guidance for the first week or so, eventually the carnival will begin running for a few small performance sessions, off and on, as a thank you to their fae hosts. The carnival will also be open to receiving new arrivals during that period, and so there will likely be some newbies to train and get orientated as well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's harder for Lambert to scrape up the memory of a conversation that happened what feels like a lifetime ago, but then again, it's a part of his existence he more or less takes for granted. If she's heard the word before, though, he must have mentioned it at some point, though he doesn't exactly recall what he might have said then...

Leaning a hip against the table, Lambert shrugs. "A witcher's what I am." It's strange, as usual, explaining the concept to someone who has completely no context for what that is. Even the people who had all the wrong ideas about witchers at least had those stories to go off of...

"To put it simply, we're monster slayers for hire. You take a boy, put him through physical training and feed him some potions for a few years, run him through some trials. If he's lucky enough to survive all that, you've got yourself a witcher."

A boy...? Rita's eyes narrow at that. The one time Lambert mentioned witchers before, he'd suggested that the process of making them wasn't a pleasant one. "How young a boy are we talking about?"

A process that some won't even survive... it seems cruel, but not just that... even from a pragmatic point of view, it seems unnecessary. "And why go to that trouble? Aren't there soldiers and mages who can handle the monsters?" He mentioned sorceresses. Surely they've got some half-decent combat magic.

How young ... Lambert has to pause and think about that. Nobody really know how old they were, when he'd been in training, but he can make a guess.

"From nine to twelve years old, or around that." He says that in a matter-of-fact way. "And mages were the ones who came up with the idea of witchers in the first place." His expression grows wry. "Why risk the lives of several men to kill a monster when one will do?"

Nine to twelve... Even younger than the runt Rita used to travel with. It doesn't sound like Lambert's interested in pity, though. She just listens, her lips pulled into a tight line as she considers the implications of what he's saying.

"My world has a pretty serious monster problem, too," she says after a moment. "Our solution was to set up magic barriers around every town and city to repel them." It's not a perfect solution. In fact, it turned out to cause more problems than Rita could have imagined. But all things considered, it beats poisoning kids, so there's that.

That's the first time Lambert's really heard another Carnival member discuss having monsters in their world, so his interest's immediately piqued. Rita's right about one thing, though -- he isn't interested in pity. For better or worse, he's a witcher, and no platitudes are going to change that

"What kind of monsters? Did it work?"

What kind of monsters? "I don't know... lots of kinds. Some are just oversized animals or insects, but there's moving plants, mermen, golems... " She shrugs. Monsters make up a large portion of the fauna of her world.

"Generally speaking, it works. The barriers repel monsters while allowing humans to pass through, and any place with a working barrier is safe from them. But..." Her expression darkens slightly. "There were other issues. The blastia powering the barriers create an imbalance in the environment. It's not sustainable... and we're already out of time."

"Like the Severing drew power from the Earth Spirit?" Lambert guesses. It's probably not the perfect analogy, but it's the best one he has at the moment, with Portland so fresh in their memories. He's pretty sure he explained that to Rita at some point... probably?

"That must mean magic is pretty common in your world, if every city could afford to have it. But that must have sped up the damage, too. When were they put up?"

It's... a pretty accurate analogy, actually. Rita nods.

"It's an ancient technology, developed about a thousand years ago, and lost for some centuries in between. We'd been excavating blastia, studying them, and putting them to use. Turns out they were abandoned for a reason." She frowns at that, but continues in a matter-of-fact tone. "Since we can't make new cores easily, they're always in limited supply. Governing bodies decide where to install barrier blastia or aque blastia - things necessary for infrastructure. Smaller blastia can be bought or sold, or are issued to people in certain positions."

Her hand goes to her neck, fingers fondly tracing the red jewel on her choker. "For example... mages and knights usually carry a bodhi blastia, like this one."

Edited (checked my magic bullshit facts) 2017-08-09 12:46 (UTC)

See, that sounds more like it. When you've got something that useful, there's always going to be some dick deciding who should get it or not. Even if they'd had something like it where Lambert comes from, the peasants would still be getting the shit end of the stick. In fact, it wouldn't surprise him to learn the sorceresses had something similar to that already in place and he didn't just know about it.

"We've got something like that ... sort of." Lambert frowns. Elven ruins are everywhere, almost under every city, and they always seem to be full of curses or magical artifacts that were sealed away for a reason. At any rate, it's probably better to take a chance to learn more about Rita's world and magic than talk about his own (again), so he gestures for her to go on.

"How does it work?"

Rita's eyes light up at the question. The workings of blastia is her favorite topic, both to read and talk about. But she'll have to try and keep things simple enough for a layman to understand... and someone alien to her world, at that.

"There's a substance in the atmosphere that we call aer. Blastia are devices that draw in that aer, use a formula to convert it into magical energy, and then produce an effect based on the type of blastia. A bodhi blastia produces magic to enhance a person's combat abilities, add magical effects to attacks... and, of course, it's used for casting spells. Like so..."

She steps away from the table. While Rita's go-to spell is usually a fireball, it doesn't seem wise to do that next to a bunch of bombs. She opts for water magic instead. Rita holds up a hand, and a magic circle traced in blue light appears below her feet. The red core of her blastia, too, begins to glow. "The converted aer becomes magic energy, and by further applying a magic formula and using a chant to guide it, I complete a spell." And, because it would be boring to only half-cast a spell, she goes on to use one such chant. "O caprice of innocent waters... Champagne!"

The light gathered around her vanishes in an instant. She points to one of the training dummies; below it, a small rippling pool forms, gushes water upward, and vanishes. The dummy merely wobbles in response.

It's not much of a flashy display, for such a lengthy explanation, but Lambert listens intently anyway. This is more the kind of magic he can get on board with -- something with a direct application to combat, though the chanting puts him more in mind of what the sorceresses in his own world can do than anything else.

"So without that thing around your neck, you can't cast magic?" He quizzes, then waves a hand before Rita can inevitably correct him like the huge nerd she is. "Theoretically, I mean. I'm assuming not everyone can just strap on one of those and burn a house down either. How do people learn to use them?"

Rita nods. There are some exceptions to the rule... but for now she'll limit the explanation to standard blastia magic. "That's right. To use a bodhi blastia, one needs an intimate understanding of blastia formulas, including the precise chemical and mathematical processes involved in magic. That's the only way to properly control the flow and conversion of the aer."

She offers a shrug. "Basically, if you can't do math, you can't do magic."

The face Lambert makes says a lot about what he thinks of that. No thanks. Alchemy formulas are enough for him to deal with, let alone trying to do calculations and cast at the same time. But there is something of interest to him...

"You said knights use these too?"

"Yeah. Mainly to enhance their combat abilities, though there are knight mages too. Most of them only know basic spells." Rita's never been all that impressed with the magic she's seen from the knights. Heck, most knights in general could be taken out with a few fireballs. It's actually kind of embarrassing.

"The knights also have authority over Aspio, our magic research facility." She sighs at that. "It means we have to comply with any official requests from them. Personally, I'd ignore them whenever I could. They'd always ask for stupid crap, like blastia-powered weapons. Those morons don't even know how blastia work."

Lambert can't help raising his brows at that. "Why don't the mages just drop a hailstorm on them and call it a day, then?"

Of course, there are any number of reasons for that, not the least of which is that he knows what can happen to a small group that shows the rest of the world they're something to be feared. But he is curious if similar politics govern Rita's world.

Now that's a suggestion Rita's never heard before, and she can't help but crack a smirk at the thought. Wouldn't that be fun? Just blasting those bucket-heads whenever they make stupid requests... It's a nice fantasy.

But after a moment, she shakes her head. "For one... my proficiency in combat magic is well above average." It sounds like bragging, and it kind of is, but it's also a fact. "Mages are scholars first and foremost; most of them don't have the will or the firepower to take out a knight squad."

But Rita does, and there are some good reasons that she doesn't make a habit of it. "Besides, annoying as it is, the mages and knights have a mutually beneficial relationship. The Empire provides funding, resources, and protection to us, in exchange for our findings being used to improve the army and infrastructure. If Aspio tried to separate from the Empire, we wouldn't last long. We can't produce food, we'd lose access to valuable excavation sites, and we wouldn't have protective escorts for research expeditions." They could hire mercenaries, sure, but once the money ran out, they'd be screwed.

"In the case of individual mages... blowing off Imperial requests could land you in a disciplinary hearing, if someone chooses to push for it." Rita mentions that because it so happens that she's gotten away with a little insubordination here and there. Among other things. "You'd run the risk of getting your license revoked, which means being expelled from Aspio and losing access to all the benefits of being a mage there."

"And let me guess: for most mages, that's a fate worse than death." Having all that knowledge at your fingertips and then losing access to it? He doesn't need to be a mage to know how that would turn out, though he privately thinks that if they didn't have combat aptitude before, being expelled would be excellent motivation to gain some.

"Put it that way, feels like witchers get off easy." He picks up a bomb from the table, absently hefting its weight in his hand. "We don't have to deal with all those politics. Doesn't stop people trying to tell us what to do anyway, but it's a lot harder to force us to."

"The politics really are the worst part," she agrees with a shrug. "Most of us would rather focus on our research and forget about the rest of the Empire." But it doesn't really work that way, and that's the price they pay for having a well-protected institute with all the best resources.

His comment strikes her as mildly surprising, though. "Do witchers have that much freedom? I would've thought that whoever's turning kids into super-powered monster slayers would try to keep them on a tight leash." Both to get the most out of their resources, and to avoid a situation where they might turn around and act against the authorities.

Lambert glances up from the bomb he holds cradled in his palm, pursing his lips. As much as Rita had to think about ways to explain her world's magic and its workings to someone who'd never been there, Lambert had to think about how to explain things that he'd taken for granted people simply ... knew, even if it was a factually incorrect and twisted version of it.

"Depends how you define freedom," he says, finally. "First of all, there aren't all that many witchers around anymore. At least for the School of the Wolf -- the one where I trained -- new witchers haven't been made in forty, fifty years." He sets the bomb down, leaning his hip against the table and continuing.

"The first witchers were made about a thousand years ago -- no one really knows how it started, but we know mages had to be involved, because you need alchemy and magic to do it. At some point, that changed. Witchers went off to hole up in places where they couldn't be found, to keep making and training new witchers. They took all their secrets with 'em, too, so nobody else could do it after that. But people heard stories, and that was enough."

"Witchers making new witchers? Why do that?" Especially after having gone through that process themselves, and going into hiding... Wouldn't that be an opportunity to do, well, literally anything else with their lives? Rita cups her chin with her hand as she ponders that, as well as the other facts he just mentioned.

Wait a minute...

She shoots him a wide-eyed look of sudden revelation. "How old are you?"

"Who knows? Probably because they wanted to make someone else as miserable as they were," Lambert snorts. It's more likely it's got something to do with preserving tradition or honoring those who came before them or some high-minded shit like that, but words can't describe how little Lambert cares about either of those things...

Besides, Rita's question is a much riper opportunity for entertainment, as he grins shittily.

"How old do I look?"

Her eyes narrow into an impatient glare. "Old."

If he was hoping she'd flatter him with a guess, it's not happening. If she had to guess, though, she probably would have placed him in his thirties or forties... but it looks like that must be off by a couple decades, at least. Her answer is still plenty honest, though: any of those ages would still be old in her eyes.

She goes on. "...But not old enough to be my grandfather, which is about the minimum you'd have to be for those numbers to add up."

It's been a while since Lambert was Rita's age (though arguably, mentally, he never grew out of it) but he can still remember exactly what it was like to feel like everyone else around you is a million years older ... mostly because they keep treating you like you're five.

Regardless, her open irritation makes him snigger, tipping his head to the side. "Well, you're not wrong. But believe it or not, I'm probably one of the youngest witchers living. Geralt and Eskel are pushing a hundred and Vesemir's probably been around a few centuries or so."

Edited 2017-08-20 01:40 (UTC)

Looks like Rita's assertion was right on the money, weird as the whole thing is. It's clear from her expression that yes, it is hard to believe... but she's seen and heard a lot less believable things lately, so in the end, she can't doubt him all that much.

"I take it witchers normally live longer than other people." He is from a different planet, and there's always the chance that human life expectancy could be different there, but from the way he phrased it, it's probably similar enough that her surprise is expected. Still... an extended lifespan... "Is that... caused by magic?"

It's not the first time Rita's heard of magic extending someone's life, but it's not exactly a common story, either. Nor has she heard any specifics about how it's done, in any case.

As expected, she's quick on the uptake, and Lambert nods. "That's right. But don't ask me how it works, because I have no idea." No witcher's ever had a chance to live long enough to figure out what that actual extended lifespan is, either, but he figures that detail probably isn't all that important to Rita.

"Magic makes it so we can't have kids, either. Same thing for any other magic user where I'm from. That's why you don't end up with too many."

Edited 2017-08-21 20:25 (UTC)

⇨ THE SUMMERLANDS

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