lostcarnival | ⇨ SAY UNCLE

Entry tags:

⇨ SAY UNCLE

Who: Everyone who isn't in jail!
When: Day 175, 11:30PM onward.
Where: The Realm that used to contain Heartstone Manor.
What: Team carnival has gotten what they came for, but in the meantime they have lost what they came with. With his ace in the hole gone, the Prince is tearing apart the Heartstone Manor and reshaping it into an impregnable fortress to lock away his new most precious commodities - the Ringmaster's captured followers. Welcome to a hostage situation, this could take a while.
Warnings: Violence, and etc.

AFTER THE BALL↴

Around 11:30PM is when everything starts changing - and for most in Heartstone Manor, the triggers will have remained unseen. In the ongoing thunderstorm it was easy to miss, and the Prince losing control over his realm only occured before a small group of workers intent on saving the carnival from a terrible fate. An ancient High Fae artifact called the Blue Rose was stolen from the Prince, and in reaction he is being forced to abandon his plans of controlling the Ringmaster, instead trying to hide away in his realm for the purposes of saving his own skin.

His main bartering chip? The workers that he's been capturing up to this point. He knows that, unlike himself, the Ringmaster cares about mortals, and especially about the ones who follow her. He's willing to bet that she won't allow them to die for the sake of her own convenience, and he's right. Now that the Blue Rose is the carnival's, she's intent to take back what was stolen from her, as well as the lives of all the servants that the Prince has been stealing away for eons. By whatever means necessary.

► SPLIT THE EARTH: Characters all across the Manor will be treated with initial tremours that will soon escalate into a full-fledged earthquake, capable of collapsing buildings and rending the earth. The cause of this is simple: the Prince is using his powers of elemental earth to reshape his realm into something more suited to protect him. Specifically, he is changing what was a manor house into a fortress meant to defend, and allowing the rest to collapse into ruin. The Manor is still nothing but a castle floating in a void - as the earth breaks apart, it will be nothing but an endless freefall between the floating chunks of debris. Over the next twelve house that earthen debris will be reshaping and solidifying into a new layout, but having to be there while it happens is one hell of a ride!

► BREAK THE ILLUSION: It's as the world starts shaking that the last of the Prince's spell over the minds of his guests will begin to fade away. However, it may wear off more slowly than is helpful in an emergency earthquake situation. The ballroom trance may linger even as lives are threatened, and it will take a pointed effort to make sure that everyone gets out of the Manor's collapse safely. At the same time, the illusionary guests will begin to fade and disappear. The ones that remain are the ones that are real, but it may be a bit painful to realize which ones were simply a lie to begin with.

► SAVE WHO YOU CAN: Despite being knocked out by a surprisingly massive blast from the Prince's magic crystal, the Ringmaster will manage to gather herself up eventually. When she does, the last of the storm will finally come to an end. She'll be doing what she can to try to gather up both servants of the Prince and all of her workers, but it'll be impossible to get to all of them first. A large portion of the servants have undoubtedly been stolen away by the Prince into his newly built fortress, but with the effort of carnival members new and old, they can still save as many as possible. Of course, those held in the Prince's most secure prisons will remain out of reach... for now.

► WAKE THE SUN: As the worst of the earthquakes stop and the new islands of floating land begin to settle, the clouds from the thunderstorm will finally pass, as the Ringmaster seems to summon up a sun to light the realm for the first time since the carnival's arrival. In reality it's sometime in the early, early morning by the Manor's schedule, but whatever! It's easier to not die when the sun is out, don't you think? The Prince's security and gargoyle soldiers are still out and about, and they're clearly interested in capturing as many hostages as possible.

► SIGN A CONTRACT: This is when the Ringmaster will be taking those that were summoned to the Prince's ball aside to offer them contracts in order to free them from the Prince's influence. She'll do her best to explain that the only way to wipe out his control is to take on a new 'master', but they can take some time to think about it if necessary. The truth is, of course, that until they officially sign onto the Ringmaster's camp, there will still be the chance that the Prince will be able to control them.

► WALK THE RUINS: One Day 176 things will have settled completely, with the land now forming a massive fortress on the far side of several large floating islands. The ruins of the old buildings will scatter those islands, forming towers that will swiftly gain small colonies of gargoyles, ready to swoop down and attack carnival members. Further complicating matters is the fact that the rending of the landscape has resulted in bursting open the underground prisons that the Prince had been keeping his most bestial servants, which mean all kinds of mortals long since twisted into the forms of giant spiders, scorpions, monstrous beasts, and other terrifying creatures will now be running amock on the islands, desperate for food. Try not to hold it against them - they didn't ask to be this way.

► REGROUP: While the Ringmaster doesn't want everyone to just run back home (if they do that, the Prince will undoubtedly make them unable to enter again, or at least take over the landscape more fully) she will manage to open a portal back to the carnival in the afternoon of Day 176, formed between two freshly grown trees. This means that carnival members will be able to fetch new clothing, supplies, weapons, and whatever they need to prepare for the battle ahead. Right now, the chaos is still unfolding, but the battle to save the Prince's captives is still ahead.

[OOC: Gargoyles and transformed servants from the underbelly can be NPC'd from this point onward. Gargoyles are the Prince's most deadly servants made of extremely durable rock and bearing scorpion tails with venom that can turn bodies into stone. They want to grab anyone they can, trap them, and then fly them off to the Prince's dungeons as collateral. Don't let them!

Transformed servants are the beasts who were freed from the underground prison they were left in to rot. They are servants that were transformed into monsters by the Prince, and most of them have been driven insane with bestial hunger from months and years of starvation and atmospheric poison. The Ringmaster is interested in helping them, to see if there is way they can be changed back, so if you have the heart nonlethal methods are most appreciated.]

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When the manor began to fall apart, Herbert had still been standing on a balcony, trying to piece things together, pressing back against the fog and longing for his reagent. And for a moment, when the floor began to break apart, he'd felt happy, because it meant the ball was over. He was sure of it. Everything about the ball had been uncomfortable, so maybe...

But then he'd gotten caught up in the rush of servants, and the shifting walls, and he was ferried downwards, still clawing against the mist filling his mind.

He ends up wandering, mist still confusing him as he comes up against wall after wall. The press of servants moved along elsewhere, leaving him aimless without a ball to give him direction--unwanted direction, definitely, but at least it was something to lean into when things stopped making sense. It's all stone here, shifting and solid and nothing makes sense and he's starting to get misty feelings like he should follow directions from somewhere. He hates them enough that he's pointedly turning every opposite way he can go than where he apparently ought to be going, hands clenching and unclenching and it takes him a moment to realise, caught up in himself as he is, when he turns another corner at a junction and begins to walk right past Foster.

But he's not completely lost in his own head yet, and he comes up short, staring wide through square glasses at the interloper in his hallway.

"You're not a servant." It's almost a question, but not quite.

It feels so good to have Purpose. Bestowing upon his wretched body the honour of a purest devotion... it's like a perfect rush, the most potent gift of all, with the supremacy of focus to drive him--

His mind is already churning out the pieces needed to construct the metaphorical tower, the Ringmaster's instructions (and ambiguity) echoing in the back of his thoughts as he rounds the corner. He glances at Herbert in passing, but doesn't entirely seem to notice him. Not until he speaks.

Then he goes still and turns back. To look at... some man. Some insignificant obstacle. Foster just stares at him, the space between his brows uncreased.

"I am." He replies flatly.

He's definitely acting like one, even if Herbert can't think of how he'd do any actual serving with those...paws. The alien theory is the one he's sticking to at this moment, but it's really beyond him how a species would evolve to sentience and not be capable of fine manipulation. Never mind: not his area of expertise.

"You're not wearing the uniform," he points out instead. "Even if you seem, to know where you're going. Where might that be? I'll admit I find myself lost in this. Labyrinth. You are the first to take note of me."

There are a few people who would argue with Herbert about ascribing a term like 'sentience' to Foster van Denend, but luckily none of those people are here right now.

Well. Some of them are. Just. You know. Not available right now.

"You're not, then," Foster responds, as though he didn't hear any of Herbert's questions at all. Notably, however, his demeanour changes--a little less standoffish, his head tilts down so that he's studying the man sharply from an upward angle.

"You serve no master at all?"

He does not sound like he believes you.

"None but myself," Herbert asserts, even if it's not strictly true, what with the Prince owning him by fae rights but...he doesn't know that and he'd reject it even if he did.

The corners of his mouth curve slightly upwards as something occurs to him. "Or perhaps Science." Amused with himself, his eyes flick downward, then up to look at Foster again, his smile fading. "Who do you serve?"

Herbert may be pleased with himself for that answer, but Foster gives him a withering look. This is an extremely serious subject to him--a flippant answer just tells him this man is... well, this is a human being, and therefore on a very different level from Foster himself.

"A higher being," Foster responds confidently, and raises his head again, as though the ability to give such an answer affords him a special kind of dignity.

"But--" he gives the man something of A Look. "If you serve no one, you might be some help." Maybe.

"You're right--" He gestures shortly with an ursine paw, looking grim. "I don't have a uniform. But I need one."

Herbert is sending back his own Look, unimpressed, assuming Foster is yet another person putting stock in a feeble God. That appears to be what their conversation was about, which is disappointing.

"What am I meant to do about that?" He still hasn't been told why Foster is here and that's a bit irritating after he was nearly completely forthright himself. "I know nothing about this place, I already told you that much, do you expect me to manifest a uniform from nothing? Why not ask your 'master'?"

You did it, Herbert. You showed him.

"Swap with me," Foster responds immediately, leaning forward just a couple of inches into the other man's space. Instead of being lidded with disapproval, his eyes are fully open now, if just a little too intense. His bovine tail flicks behind him, his ears swivelling to correct themselves, like furry radars.

He's... smiling?

"Asking is out of the question. I need the uniform to serve my master... If you have no master to serve, it doesn't matter, right?"

This gets a frown, eyes narrowed and scanning Foster's...outfit. He is not a fan. At least he doesn't have much concept of personal space so Foster leaning in doesn't affect him.

This guy is really weird. He's not at full mental capacity, sure, but Foster is weird by even the standards of the people he's met tonight.

And he's met Jasper.

"I fail to see how this benefits me--whether or not you manage to serve your higher power doesn't affect me at all." And Herbert hasn't worn colours (aside from light blue ~~and red~~, unavoidably) since he was 10.

Foster has also met Jasper. He found her one of the more tolerable personalities he collided with during the ball.

"But it does." His eyes narrow slightly, and his smile drops, just for a moment. "My purpose benefits you."

Then he gets back out of the man's space by straightening up, his smile returning in a friendly way.

"Whether or not you serve a master now, you will."

He's actually going on his sixth day without eating, but his purpose is sustenance of a kind greater than flesh--

Which is to say, he's running on sheer force of will and an unhealthily strong sense of disconnect between his brain and his body.

"Will I?" The fact that Foster leaned back away before his final assertion is throwing Herbert off a little. It makes it seem like it's not a threat, even if he can't think of what else it would be. "And how could you know that?"

Foster straightened out because Herbert's intuition was correct: it's not a threat. It's simply a fact.

"You will." Foster regards the man dispassionately, a look made marginally less effective by the green and gold livery he's wearing. It's an ensemble that cannot be salvaged even by the forest green half-cape over his shoulder.

"The Ringmaster's goal is to remove the master of this manor from his throne and break the bonds of servitude. And you... will either serve here, or by her will be freed."

Edited 2017-10-30 20:35 (UTC)

The Ringmaster? He tilts his chin down to giggle quietly into his collar for a moment. Of course. Of course he'd be the one to end up involved with a circus and not the one who deserved it.

Then again, the so-called Prince (who he... his mind, the cloud wants him to think favourably on him but he won't, he refuses) is the one who's trapped him here, who's in his mind, like....

Well. It would be perfect if a carnival brought him down. He looks back up at Foster, face serious again.

"You have a, plan, I trust, that necessitates blending in?"

At that, Foster's face lights up with the broadest, most brilliant smile possible.

It shows off his strange, sharp, prehistoric 'teeth.'

... and is inevitably paired with more unblinking eye contact.

He'll take that as a yes, he supposes. Desperate times and so forth.

"Promise me that your Ringmaster or you will set me free of this--" he waves a hand vaguely about his head, "--and this... castle and I will. Align myself with you and your plan." He's still not happy about what this will entail, exactly, but he's endured greater indignities before and done worse to escape them.

"You want me to promise you victory?" Foster asks--and then starts to laugh.

Not too loudly, thankfully, but it's still sudden and grating, a weirdly harsh sound; then again, what does he have to lose? If he loses, then--

He stops laughing, smiles widely--with all the sincerity his unwavering heartlessness permits.

"But of course."

Herbert goes from somewhat desperate to flatly unamused in a split second. He really doesn't think he deserves to be laughed at, here. It was a fair request--even if he doesn't necessarily believe there will be any followthrough--considering that he's going to be changing into a gaudy outfit to help a man he's just met.

He doesn't want to go back to the mutated Hill torso but he'd much rather the morgue over this. Here, he doesn't know how to get a handle on things and has to resort to listening to the first random alien man he runs across.

"Fine. Have you passed any appropriate rooms--I refuse to do this in the middle of the hall."

Foster looks, for just a moment, like he's going to argue--as though the indignity of stripping down in the middle of a hallway is somehow so far past him that he would scorn an attempt to avoid it.

But he doesn't.

He pauses, and after a moment's thought, smiles again.

"Follow me."

And, assuming Herbert does, Foster will lead the man back the way he came--although it's not clear if the path is intentional or not, the way he stops and frowns, or slows, muttering to himself, occasionally glancing back at Herbert with narrowed eyes before picking back up at a trot, but soon he'll trek back through the study and towards the Prince's bed chamber, a large, fine room with four-poster bed and a startling array of personal grooming products.

"Don't touch anything," he advises Herbert coolly as they make their way through the study. "Especially any spiders you happen to see."

Edited 2017-10-31 17:09 (UTC)

It's not so much the indignity for Herbert as it is his unwillingness to be potentially caught by someone or something while trapped with his pants around his ankles. It's perhaps more dangerous here than he'd thought. How annoying, to be caught in the midst of someone else's battle.

So, he does follow, yes, his expression growing ever more unimpressed at what he perceives to be Foster's distractability.

"We're touching the floor," he says flatly in response, although it's one of his jokes. It just comes out as sardonically as he says most other things. "Are you in the habit of prodding random spiders? Or should I be watching my feet?"

Distractability isn't too far off the mark, really. Foster's ability to keep track of things is sort of a complicated issue--if he were simply stupid, or possessed of a total inability to remember or multitask, it would be pretty obvious.

Unfortunately, it's not really that simple. For example, he is capable of following incredibly long and complex chains of events in the moment, and usually manages to at least remember their outcomes later. Conversely, he is wholly incapable of remembering where things are or how to get there, and his short term and working memory don't communicate very effectively at all. So the more often he visits a place, the less likely he'll remember what he wanted to do there, or how to get to it.

Which means that Herbert's joke flies right over his head, and he gets an alarmingly blank look from Foster, at least until he mentions the spiders.

"I would watch your feet, and keep my hands out of strange boxes," he says, smiling back at Herbert for a moment. Then he leads the man up to the bedroom.

Of course he's not going to poke into random things when there's another task to complete first. He's used to people not noticing his jokes, though. They're always for himself, first and foremost, like most things.

Herbert scans about the bedroom quickly when they first enter it, determining the lack of spiders, and bounty of cosmetics. Richer than he's ever been in. He glances quickly behind himself at the door they came through, confirming the lack of any others, then immediately starts struggling out of his tailcoat.

"This will likely prove to be the most difficult for you to effectively wear," he says, freeing his arms from the sleeves behind his back, and bringing it around to hold it across to Foster. "It would be worthwhile to, determine the feasibility before we fully commit to this ruse." Also, he's not putting on pantaloons unless he absolutely has to.

Edited 2017-11-07 05:15 (UTC)

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⇨ SAY UNCLE

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