lostcarnival | ⇨ THE HUNT

Entry tags:

⇨ THE HUNT

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 173, the Afternoon
Where: Heartstone Manor Courtyard
What: Everyone goes into the forest with arrows, swords, and horses and is told to hunt and the kill the biggest beast they can find. Best kills win a prize! Or, if you'd rather not, you can wander around the forest and pretend to hunt instead.
Warnings: Violence and ethical quandaries.

BEASTS OF BURDEN↴

Come the day of the Hunt, everyone will be brought to the courtyard forest and provided with arrows, bows, and blades as requested. Magic and other weaponry can be used to hunt, but it is suggested by the Prince that the best kill is the one done in a gentlemanly manner, which probably means he will be most impressed by those using the tools provided.

The "Best Kill" will be determined from a mixture or whatever beast the Prince decides is best, and the method in which it was killed. The less damage done to the body the better - tearing the body apart will receive poor grades.

The corpses are not yours to eat or keep, and all must be returned to the Prince at the end of the day for judgment.

The servants are especially nervous, tense, and solemn today, and unless they have no choice, most of them will be trying to give the courtyard a wide berth. Those that have to serve will have stony expressions, or at best will be trying to put on a cheerful face.

If casually asked why they are upset, most of them will say something vague about the Hunt making them nervous, and how dangerous it is to participate.

OOC: Those who make top levels will have a chance to be randomly selected for a couple particular plot events, so be prepared for that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Having managed to sleep through the entire radio drama with Julien (until rudely awoken to try and scry for the two), Strange is spared the annoyance that Lambert and the rest must feel at dealing with that radio drama in the first place.

"I'm afraid you're wrong," Strange lazily responds, trying to hide his annoyance at the whole matter with jokes. Because he's certainly annoyed at the three of them for making terrible choices and getting themselves kidnapped. Hopefully the Prince is more lenient than Nightshade was. Otherwise, worst case scenarios and nasty what-if's continue to dance in his head.

"If I were kidnapped, I'd have to worry about Miss Akaba and Mister Delacroix—I'm certain the rest can take care of themselves." Of course, he says that after Tyki got kidnapped. And after Sans got kidnapped. And that's assuming that everybody's in the same place to begin with. God, wouldn't it be their luck if they were scattered to the winds, shoved off who knows where throughout the manor.

"Besides, I thought everyone wanted me to stay away from the fae."

Edited (stop getting kidnapped y'all) 2017-10-12 14:14 (UTC)

Maybe somewhere in the Manor there's a new stool with a vaguely Sans-like air to it. It's short and squat and lists slightly to the side when you sit on it. Horrifying thought.

"Or they'd have to worry about you," Lambert says dryly. "Like I said, you really don't have enough of you left to go around. I'm sure you'd find a way to get in trouble, anyway."

As he speaks, though, he's focusing his attention on their surroundings, keeping an ear out for any sign or sound of creatures. It's an unnatural forest, so one can never know what to expect around here... though he'll stop the horse briefly so he can look up, frowning.

"Something big passed through there. Flying." he points out snapped branches, though whether Strange's poor human eyes can make them out in the twilight ... well. That's his problem. "Looks like he's got us hunting monsters."

Strange...doesn't hear anything. Nor does he see the snapped branches, even though he's gotten better at seeing random things in darkness. He's just not used to spotting small things like snapped branches or traces of footprints.

Hunting monsters though. That's...interesting. And a bit terrifying! It's been literal years since Strange has been on a hunt and he's never hunted anything larger than a deer. What the hell sort of monsters would they be fighting in the first place?

"Interesting. Where on Earth could he have gotten them from?"

Obviously there's a menagerie somewhere around here that the carnival animals are being stored in. Could whatever monsters they're fighting live there? But isn't this area too small for monsters to live in the first place? Still, Lambert's the tracker, so Strange will follow wherever he leads.

"Probably the same place the Ringmaster gets hers." Maybe. The fae open doors between worlds, and this is the Prince's realm. They never notice anything amiss when the Ringmaster shifts them to a new world; the Prince could have shuffled them somewhere and they wouldn't be aware of it, either. Lambert doesn't really understand how it works, though; can fae realms only tether to one at a time? Does that mean the Carnival might be floating off somewhere ... terrible thought. Let's not focus on that.

Instead, Lambert pricks his ears -- metaphorically, as the Carnival thankfully hasn't changed him that far yet -- and nudges the horse forward, eyes tracking signs Strange can't see. That'll continue for a few minutes in silence, a relative rarity from Lambert, before he frowns and reaches up, plucking something caught on a branch. A giant feather ... ?

"How many things does he have in here?" Lambert mutters. The rhetorical question will have to remain extra unanswered, as the thud of hooves that even Strange can't possibly miss approaches, and a ... something like a unicorn bursts across the path, blood on its two horns and white hide gleaming in the dim light. It leaps into the underbrush on the other side and disappears from sight, and the only reason Lambert isn't immediately chasing after it? His medallion. It had already been humming nonstop since they arrived at the manor, but it had all but yanked itself off his neck when the beast appeared.

It shouldn't be doing that. Lambert hand reaches up to hold onto it, looking at Strange.

Strange also stops when he sees the horse. For the most part, his third eye has been absolutely useless here. Everything's magical as hell and everything from the servants to the wall furnishings radiates the Prince's magic. But as the horse bursts in front of them, leaping through the underbrush, the magic around the animal shines more intensely, more bright than anything else Strange has seen here. It's only for a brief second, but it's enough to convince Strange that something's up—mostly because that has literally never happened before, what the hell, why is his magic acting up like that.

He turns to look at Lambert, only to see that the witcher's sharing the same sort of confused and dumbfounded expression he is. There's something up with that animal and Strange desperately wants to find out.

"We need to find that horse." And without even waiting for Lambert, Strange already starts turning his horse and riding off in the direction the bicorn went. He might not be a tracker, but even he can follow a large, moving animal. Any attempt at 'strategy' or 'being subtle' is slowly flying out of the window because magic horse.

"Dammit, Strange--" And Lambert, not having anything better to do, chases after. "You're not going to catch anything like that!"

Though he, too, wants to know what that creature was -- a construct of the Prince's magic? Whatever it is, it's no natural creature, that much he's certain of. Because though Strange is so certain of his pursuit, as soon as they close in on it ... the damn thing turns into smoke and straight up vanishes from sight, making Lambert drawing his horse up short with a curse.

Animals with magic. Just the thing they need. There's going to be at least half an hour of trying to pick up the beasts tracks before he holds a hand up, shaking his head.

"All right, enough. We're going to need to be smarter about this."

Strange has wasted about a third of his arrows in the chase and is looking very put out about this whole matter—partly because of the arrows and partly because, though he hates to admit it, Lambert's right. Just chasing after this thing isn't helpful, especially since the damn thing can turn into smoke. They need a plan. And, as someone who can also turn into smoke, Strange comes up with part of the solution quicker than Lambert.

"If Yrden was able to keep me solid, it should do the same with the beast. The problem, however, is how do we find it and how do we lure it into the trap to begin with."

Because yeah. Fuck if he knows about that point. He's added his useful contribution to the plan and definitely needs something to bounce ideas off of before coming up with anything else useful to the cause.

Good question. Lambert considers the question, frowning. He's never encountered a creature like that -- it resembles a unicorn, but that doesn't mean much.

"We're going to have to be quiet, for a start," Lambert mutters. Which is a tall order, given who they are, and given Strange is even louder than he is...

"It was running from something," he says out loud. "And it managed to injure whatever it was, so we know it isn't afraid to fight." Not to mention those hooves looked nasty.

"Our options are to flush it out and wear it down, or..." He trails off. "How good are you at acting? You can't make any illusions, can you?" Damn, too bad Syr isn't around. They could really use a fake something right now.

Strange is about to butt in with a Lambert, really, he knows he can be quiet, but then the witcher keeps talking and planning so Strange shuts his trap to listen.

"I can't make any illusions, but I'm a better actor than I am archer. And I believe I can convince the trees to help by whatever means necessary."

An odd statement, to be sure, but a swarm of leaves to distract the beast, roots springing up to block off exits, branches bending down to coax the unicorn in a different direction, all of those could be fairly useful if needed. Besides, Lambert's seen Strange's magic, he knows what sort of nonsense he can throw together as needed at the last minute.

'Convince the trees to help' still sounds like bullshit to Lambert, honestly, but if there's anything Strange is good at, it's that. He pulls his horse up short, sliding off its back to get on the ground, frowning.

"Do you have that gem with you?" Lambert asks slowly. Stupid question. He probably always has that gem with him. "Arabella's voice might be able to lure it over."

Because Lambert and Strange sure as hell aren't luring anything.

Strange gives Lambert a Look. Of course he has the gem with him, why wouldn't he? Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulls out the creepy wife gem, though Strange still remains on the horse for now. He's...not entirely sure where Lambert's train of thought is going but he'll happily give it a try.

Still, Strange's skepticism is in full force.

"I think I can influence it to show a certain memory. Is there anything specific you'd want the gem to show? I assume you don't want the music playing."

And not just because that's kind of weird.

"Pick something sappy," Lambert says, immediately followed by "But wait until I'm gone." No way is he subjecting himself to the Strange makes doe eyes at creepy wife gem hour again, thank you!

"Right now it's running scared, probably had enough people yelling after it. A woman's voice might attract it." As to the other question, he has to pause to consider it. He didn't exactly recognize the creature, though it was close enough to unicorn-like that it might be possible to guess at some of the beast's qualities.

"Music actually might not be a bad idea. It's out of place enough to make it curious. I'll hide in the shadows and be ready to trap it if that works."

Considering that this is seeming more and more like Strange is going to have to get off his horse, he does so, taking care not to drop the gem in the process. All Strange knows about unicorns is through fairy tales and folklore so alright big monster hunter, he'll take your advice.

"I'll need to spin it in order for the music to play. I believe the ground is level enough for me to do so, but part of the enchantment lets me spin the gem in my hand." Though, considering that the thing did have blood on it's horns, Strange can already see where Lambert's train of thought is going.

"I've mastered turning my entire body to smoke, by the way. I don't mind if I have to stand in the open for the magic to work."

"That only works if you notice it fast enough to turn into smoke," Lambert points out, frowning. But hey, it's better than Strange being gored, and do they really have any other options right now...?

"All right. Give me a few minutes to get ready, then start luring it over." And with that, Lambert steps into a patch of shadow and vanishes from sight ... normal sight, anyway. Strange, with his magic vision, can likely see the witcher's movements clearly enough, even if he can't see the details of his form.

After that, there's nothing to do but wait.

Once Strange is certain that Lambert's properly hidden, he moves himself to the area with the least trees and best view in the clearing that they're in. He takes a brief moment to place his hand on a tree trunk as he mutters a spell under his breath: a spell to work in tandem with this tree, calling upon it for help should the situation go poorly. There's a rustling of leaves like the tree's agreeing or like a convenient gust of wind just happened. And so, once that's finished, Strange removes his hand from the tree and spins the gem.

To his credit, he remains quiet. Unfortunately, like a bird distracted by his own reflection, he keeps getting distracted by Arabella, turning to look at the memory instead of paying attention to his surroundings. The memory's something simple enough, just the two of them having a conversation on their first day in their London house. Arabella's voice is loud enough to draw attention, but the gem isn't a loudspeaker—though Lambert can definitely hear the conversation.

Lambert can hear the creepy music emanating from the gem as well. Here's hoping this plan doesn't just weird the poor bicorn out.

Not for the first time, Lambert wonders what the Ringmaster was thinking handing Strange something like this. That's one gem he'll never feel avarice for, at least. The magician's welcome to keep it all for himself.

Still, if it works as a lure, at least it's finally served a useful purpose. He can hear the murmur of Strange's voice and Arabella's, and the gentle plink of the magically-generated music, but he'll tune it out for now, focusing on their surroundings instead.

The patience pays off. After about ten minutes or so, smoke begins to creep through the treeline, drifting closer to the magician and his spinning gem. Of course, it hasn't taken on solid form yet -- the creature is not, after all, entirely an idiot -- but it seems to have been drawn by how out of place the whole thing is. Who plays music on a hunt?

He spots the smoke drifting through the trees. And thankfully, Strange stays still. Though he reaches over towards the gem and gives it one more spin for good measure. The memory keeps playing and the music continues as Strange tries to not look at the smoke directly, but still attempts to keep it in eyesight.

By now, he's gotten familiar enough with the tune that he idly hums a snippet of it under his breath, trying his hardest to look relaxed. Don't mind him! Just a guy hanging out in a forest with a creepy musical gem, nothing to worry about here.

Tentatively, the smoke inches closer.

The smoke drifts closer, still wary, but when Strange doesn't move, it hesitates. Well, as much as smoke can emote, at any rate; Lambert's just guessing about most of this. However, while it doesn't appear to register Strange as a threat now, it also doesn't seem to inclined to linger. Curiosity satisfied, it begins to drift away, dispersing back into the forest.

Or it would, if a witcher wasn't suddenly standing in its way.

"Strange, now!" Lambert shouts, already throwing his hand down towards the ground, the purple light of the magic trap flaring to life underfoot. With a heavy thump, the bicorn drops to the ground, forced into corporeality again, and it looks distinctly unhappy about the proceedings. Diamond-hard hooves gouge at the ground as it scrambles to get back to its feet, and its limbs flail out to smash anything that comes into range as its eyes roll wildly.

As he jumps out of the way of Lambert's sign, Strange slips the creepy wife gem back into his pocket. The bicorn starts to flail and one hoof shoots directly towards Strange's head. Without hesitation, he scrunches up his eyes and poofs into smoke, as the hoof passes harmlessly through where his head used to be. He floats back a foot or so and reforms into his normal self, kneeling on the ground.

Obviously Strange can't do much magic inside the magic-blocking circle. But he can at least do some things around it. Placing one hand on the ground, Strange quickly mutters an incantation. A few pillars of earth start to shoot up around the magic circle, trying to block the bicorn and keep it from jumping out of the circle.

The bicorn slams against the stone from the inside, but it's clear it wasn't expecting to be caught like this, nor hemmed in by the earth itself. As one of the pillars shoots up from the ground, Lambert leaps up onto it, catching a quick ride up on the shuddering rock. For now, at least, he hasn't drawn his sword, though he does have one hand one it...

He's not a sorceror, able to cast spells in quick succession, so there isn't much to do except get ready to knock the bicorn down with the flat of his sword if it tries to leap up. As soon as he can feel the magic gather itself again, though, he he reaches out with a hand, forming a sign Strange is probably all too familiar with by now.

"Calm down. We're not here to kill you."

In the stone arena Strange has created, the bicorn's thrashing stops as though its strings have been cut, though its flanks are still heaving, body shaking. Lambert frowns, glancing over his shoulder and offering Strange a hand so he can haul him up.

"Get up here." He's not about to ask him to dispel the rocks just yet, not until they're sure it's not about to bolt again.

As Lambert jumps up onto one of the pillars, Strange remains on the ground and continues his magic, calling up more and more rocks and more and more earth to surround the bicorn. He doesn't want to smother the thing completely, just box it in so there aren't as many bicorn shaped holes that the creature could jolt through.

Once the animal's calmed down, that's only when Strange gets to his feet. When Lambert offers him a hand, he takes it, helping to hoist himself up over so he can stand on the pillar as well.

"I'm only seeing the Prince's magic," Strange explains, with a frown. "A bit odd, as you'd think the bicorn would have magic itself, but then again, everything here feels like the Prince's magic."

"The trap's not going to last forever," Lambert warns, frowning. The beast remains docile for now, but who knows how long that's going to last, either? His medallion's tugging at his neck, humming against his skin, and he grits his teeth, trying to think it through.

"Whatever it is, it's strong stuff. Could be a compulsion, an illusion, or an enchantment ... unless you know a spell to talk to beasts, we're going to need some other way to figure that out."

"I can try to piece out the magic," Strange suggests, looking down at the bicorn, as if staring at it would somehow be enough. "Given my experiences, I might be able to recognize a compulsion. And I've broken enchantments before."

He's broken enchantments twice. One of them, returning Arabella's memories and agency to her when they visited faerie. Another, taking Norrell's labyrinth spell, manipulating and working it so that he could break it and possibly disorient the man himself as well. Still, this is Jonathan Strange and if he's good with one thing, it's ego and thinking he can do stuff. Bending down to look at the bicorn, Strange starts muttering under his breath, occasionally adding in odd hand gestures as he does so.

This also means that he's stopped paying attention to Lambert for a minute or so. Sorry, bud.

Whatever Strange is doing, Lambert has nothing to contribute, so he's happy to leave him to it. He keeps a sharp eye on the forest and the creature below them, instead, knowing Strange is certainly in no position to do so. The influence of the witcher's magic is laid over on top of whatever spell the Prince has cast over this creature, but it's simple, almost painfully simple: a set of threads loosely braided together set against the complex tapestry woven around the bicorn's essence.

If they're lucky, though, Strange might be able to find the right place to pull to make it all come undone. Lambert does have to re-cast the confusion to keep the bicorn docile, but he'll hold off on another round of the magic ward for now, to better not interfere with Strange's work.

It feels like it should be working, like it's almost working, but it's just not connecting properly. Like trying to thread a needle, but the thread keeps slipping to the side. Strange casts any spell he can think of, improvising off already established ones and creating a few things wholesale just to try and see if he can break the enchantment. He can feel the attempts get closer and closer, but nothing's breaking it yet.

It's then that Strange remembers that the last time he broke an enchantment, there was a physical trigger: the act of kissing Arabella. This is obviously different but...well, look, it was worth a shot. There's something there. Both he and Lambert know it. And Strange is just too damn sure of himself to accept the fact that he might not be able to break this magic.

"Hold it still for another minute or so as I lower us to the ground. I need to touch the horse for this next bit of magic." There's an awkward pause before, "It's unorthodox, but it might work."

He's gonna smooch a horse.

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and gonna speed up the tracking a bit here

time is relative and blah blah blah

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timeskipping merrily along here

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