Lost Carnival Mods (
ringleaders) wrote in
lostcarnival2018-06-09 06:55 pm
Entry tags:
⇨ CAMPING GROUNDS
Who: Everybody!
When: Day 64
Where: The Camping Grounds
What: While the Ringmaster attempts to purge the carnival of magical tracing spells and deal with the angry fire fae in her belly, everyone else is getting sent on an emergency camping trip with some unusual local fauna.
Warnings: Camping.
When: Day 64
Where: The Camping Grounds
What: While the Ringmaster attempts to purge the carnival of magical tracing spells and deal with the angry fire fae in her belly, everyone else is getting sent on an emergency camping trip with some unusual local fauna.
Warnings: Camping.
CRYPTIC CAMPGROUNDS↴![]() You're given about three hours to prepare, after the Ringmaster tells you her plans for the coming week. There is a vast selection of camping equipment at your disposal, and the means to take along enough food for the length of the stay. The wilderness of the planet you're left on is nearly idyllic, but some people just don't like the great outdoors. ► CRYPTOZOOLOGY: As it turns out, the carnival won't be alone here. There is a varied ecosystem of cryptids to be found as well, living in relative peace and mostly reacting to the newcomers with curiousity. More details can be found on the plotting post. You are free to NPC the cryptids as much as you need to, as long as you stick to the behaviours described. ► DREAMSHARING: There is a player plot going on which will allow characters to share dreams! These are specifically more dreams than nightmares, and the mushi-adept characters will be here to help. ► CHILLAX: There isn't any plot twist for this setting, so this is mostly an opportunity to decompress from the last plot and get ready for the future. The Ringmaster will show up occasionally to help with needed medical treatments and check on things, but won't stick around for long. |


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"Nothing world-destroying happen while I was away?" Childermass asks. It's in jest, not something terribly common from him, but it's better to lead with that and try to cut through the similarly distant look he'd been wearing as he walked up. It does help that Baker immediately stirs from near the other side of the campfire and gets up to greet him, though, and so by the time Lambert can even answer that, the magician will be talon-deep in fluff, scratching gently through a big feather-adorned mane.
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“Not unless running into Strange counts. He’s ... lively.” That’s the most neutral description he can come up with, right now.
“How’d it go with the Ringmaster?”
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Which he'll get, if only idly near one ear and with only one hand. Dogs...
"Ignatius is imprisoned in the other moon now. She wanted support to help her deal with him." But that said, he does circle back to what else Lambert mentioned, a small frown tugging his lips down. "Strange came by?"
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Lambert turns to fuss with the pot, stirring the contents to keep it from burning to the bottom while he answers.
“Not exactly. I was taking Butcher on a walk, he was practicing magic in the woods. Followed me to keep yelling at me.” He shrugs, winces a little, then forges on. Might as well get the bad news out of the way.
“He knows. About us, I mean.”
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"He knows?" Childermass purses his lips into a thin line, brow furrowing. "Did he finally guess at it?"
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"He didn't like what we did to Ignatius, threatened to quit the Nightrunners over it. I told him I wanted him off anyway." Childermass probably needs no elaboration to imagine exactly how well that conversation went, meaning not well at all. Lambert gestures vaguely with the spoon.
"Then he said that the reason I didn't want him to get into anything was obviously because I was in love with him."
Honestly, that level of obliviousness is incredible. Maybe they should look into weaponizing it against the fae, like if Jonathan Strange decides not to notice something, it might simply cease to exist.
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That's all, just a prompt to continue. Childermass could easily say something sarcastic about Strange thinking that, of all things, but he'd rather just move onto the damage. If there even is any. Doubtful, but one can hope.
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"Next thing he did was try to punch me-- his fists light on fire now, did you know that? -- and kick me in the ribs." His hand goes to his side, just remembering the scuffle. Strange hadn't actually connected, but the sharp movement of getting out of the way ... that still pulled at things that really weren't ready to be pulled.
"Anyway Butcher didn't like that, so he stopped that pretty quickly."
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"He attacked you?"
Any other time, hearing Butcher intervened would be much more amusing, but not right now, not for this.
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"Wasn't much of an attack." Whatever Ignatius put him through wasn't enough to change Strange's aptitude at fistfights, and thank fuck for that. "Seemed like he was more pissed about not being told, than about it actually be a thing." That's surely reassuring, right?
"He calmed down after Butcher knocked him down, but once we got to Ignatius he started yelling again." And so did Lambert, if the way his expression darkens is any indication.
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Which does absolutely nothing to get Baker to move. Of course. Fine, he'll just grouch and grumble where he is, trapped by pet-in-lap syndrome.
"I have half a mind to ask everyone to check his head and see if he's still enthralled at this point."
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Shifting around, the witcher reaches out to move the pot off the fire before he can let it burn while he’s self-absorbed.
“It sure seems like they got friendly,” the witcher says sourly. “He says Ignatius is the only person who respects him in this Carnival, says he can’t let himself comfortable with us binding him. Comfortable! Did Ignatius make sure he was comfortable? Maybe we shouldn’t have bothered getting him back since he obviously loves the Summer Court so much!”
His voice has raised, even if it’s not directed at Childermass, and he’s stabbing the spoon into the stew with increasingly violent motions. Of course he wouldn’t have left Strange, of course he doesn’t expect gratitude, but what the fuck? He’s struggling to wrap his mind around how someone could come back from that not just having goodwill but willing to defend his captor and preach about his virtues. It’s frankly disgusting.
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"You don't mean that," he says, quieter. He's not all too happy with Strange right now, either, but there was no way they could just leave him, even less so hand him back over. "So if it isn't enthrallment, maybe something else is wrong. Has he said anything about what happened to him while he was with Ignatius?"
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"Not to me." It's probably easy enough for Childermass to imagine why that is -- Lambert and Strange coming to yelling and blows before anything of much import could be said. "All he said was ... Ignatius told him about the Ringmaster killing the Winter Queen. He was teaching him new ways to kill people, but I don't know how he did that." Considering how short a time Ignatius had him, if Lambert had to make a guess, he'd assume it has to do with 'fucking with memories.'
"Whatever it was, it worked." Lambert's hand, unconsciously, comes up to rub at his throat. "He used magic to take away the air around me. Apparently, Ignatius likes his soldiers not just battle-ready but efficient."
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"That still wasn't him in his right mind," he at least tries to put some reason to it, even if it's for naught. He knows better than anyone else how Lambert reacts to anything near his neck, how sometimes the witcher wakes up from some troubled sleep gasping for air. There's never been a lot to say about that. Comfort or pity; neither would fix the problem.
"He won't do it again. You know how he is."
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He lets his hand drop once he realizes where it is. Leaving the spoon in the stew, he settles for resting his forearms on his thighs, fists clenched.
"He's decided he's staying with the nightrunners. But he's not going out there again on my orders, if I can help it."
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"For all we know, it may even just be him being a stubborn fool," Childermass sighs and pulls his hand back, off of Lambert's arm. "I suppose we'll have to wait and see. You said he mentioned the Winter Queen? That came up again in the moon. It turns out the Summer Court already suspected the Winter Maiden's hand in that..."
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Childermass’s words get his attention, though, and Lambert frowns. He’d like to ask more, but—
“Are you even supposed to talk to me about that?”
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"What? Tell you something most of us could have guessed at already? If we could figure out the current Winter Queen is underhanded, it isn't a stretch that the Summer Court would consider the same possibility."
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Even if Lambert could have guessed anyway. Frowning in thought, he looks away.
“So they know, and ... it doesn’t change anything. They still went after us, they’ll still chase the Rose ... and now, Ignatius. If they even realize he’s alive.”
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“Someone should try asking, assuming he doesn’t consider that too much of a betrayal of Summer to answer.”
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Though it seems so obvious now, it should have been at the top of the list. Actually dealing with a changed and distraught Ignatius (or as distraught as that man can ever be, anyway) hadn't really lent itself well to picking useful questions.
"Well, perhaps later. He certainly isn't going anywhere."