lostcarnival | ⇨ EDEN PT. 3

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⇨ EDEN PT. 3

Who: Everyone!
When: End of Day 88, on to Day 89
Where: Eden
What: The carnival breaks into two groups, as one entertains the Architect Samyaza at her festival, and the other assaults the Cathedral through a secret passageway with the intent of claiming the Silver Mirror and liberating those imprisoned.
Warnings: Ritual sacrifices.

IN GOD'S HANDS↴

Only those left in Eden and remaining undetected will be able to come to Samyaza's festival, which is an increasingly small group. It's also a dangerous proposition - there's no way to know what Samyaza has in store for her visitors, only that she apparently wants to interact with them before allowing the other Architects to act. It could work as an excellent distraction, drawing the eyes of the Architects towards the festival instead of towards the Cathedral while the attempt to claim the Mirror is taking place.

For those that arrive in Samyaza's gardens, they are beautiful and well prepared, and music of otherworldly perfection flows through them. Tables are arranged with amazing works of art as their centerpieces, while the trees themselves are made into dazzling displays of color with an effect that seems to turn their leaves into pure light. Samyaza will be presiding, a hare that looks like she's made of something ephemeral, like wind of pure colour. She invites you in kindly, saying that before she speaks, she will honour you with a song...

► THE SET UP: For the first hour or so, the festival will be nothing but celebration. There are other Honorables there, but not as many as usual - the main event are you and the other new arrivals. After the hour mark, Samyaza will perform her song. Until then, threads can be made focusing on the pre-song mingling and planning. Will you listen when she sings?

► THE TWIST: There will be more happening at the festival than Samyaza plans. While she is comfortable waiting to act, other Architects are less patient.

ON HOLY GROUND↴

With carnival members (and Ignatius) in enemy hands, there's no more time for hestitation. Based on the information given to her by various carnies, the Ringmaster will meet with the Furies and declare her intent to attack the Cathedral's underground during Samyaza's festival on the evening of Day 88. The Furies will agree, saying that those they have on the inside will use their influence to ensure there are as few Architects and Scholars are blocking their way as possible, but they must all still expect a fight.

Furies from the base in the barrens will be coming along with this raid group, using what information they have to speed transit through the underground tunnels. They only ask two things - that after the Mirror is collected, it be used to save the lives of Hasma and the other captured Furies, before being used to repair the mind of the Serpent herself.

► THE SET UP: The Ringmaster will lead the way into the secret ruins that Childermass and the other found - the main difference is that she will smash right through the cracked wall defending the depths of the Cathedral, clearing the path entirely with her now serpentine body. Her plan is this - to draw the attention of the Architects to the surface by taking on the appearance if the Serpent, while carnival members and assisting Furies search the tunnels below to find the Mirror and the captives.

► THE TWIST: The people captured by the Twelve and imprisoned in the garden (AKA characters on the TDM) will be found, but the carnival members won't be. At least, not in the same place as the other captives. A megathread will go up for the group that goes to capture the Mirror, but you are free to NPC and thread confrontations will Scholars that are protecting the underground prison and the chambers where the Twelve held their meetings. Please report any Scholars that are killed or seriously harmed to the mods. Lambert will be leading the part of the group heading towards the Mirror, while Sans will head the group searching the tunnels for captives.

Now is the time to let loose and use all your powers. It's probably best to keep your disguise to catch people off guard, but it is no longer necessary. New characters will be directed to post here once accepted.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Strange opens his mouth, like he's about to remind Herbert that he's a doctor who currently has cat paws, that might make this whole stitching Ignatius up thing go a bit less smoothly, before he gets a lovely view of the inside of the table. Jerk. A few seconds pass before he pops back up on the other reflective side and...gets a lovely view of the ceiling.

He's really getting sick of being stuck inside this Mirror.

"Hamon? Would you mind propping me up again?" No matter if the hamster does or doesn't, Strange is going to offer his own attempt at medical advice. "If you have any, gloves would be a good idea as well. I don't think shedding in an open wound is a good idea."

"I have fabrics!" the goat, ostensibly named Adona, says, and trots off to go find some. Hamon puts his hands to his face to ponder what Herbert is saying, and then shakes his head. He squeaks something, and when Herbert doesn't immediately respond, the tapir translates:

"He says none of these are iron. The staples might be, but Hamon prefers to work with stronger stuff."

Hamon takes out the knife from his belt again and flicks it, showing Herbert as it vibrates itself into becoming hot, somehow, like a tuning fork but sharper. Then Strange speaks up again and Hamon turns to look at him, before making a slightly annoyed sound and coming over to cut a couple slits into the edge of the plate, bending back a strip of metal to serve as a makeshift stand.

Hamon sets up the plat like a picture frame and then looks back to Herbert, squeaking a bunch of things at rapid speed.

"Um... I'm not sure what he's saying now," the tapir says. "He's a bit... excited."

Edited 2018-08-13 02:42 (UTC)

Absently, Herbert waves one of his paws pointedly in front of Strange's face in the plate. As it turns out, he already wrapped them in fabric to protect from the shackles back when he was feeding strips of Ignatius' robe around his wrists. So there. He's been sewing things this entire mission, anyway, he's more than capable.

"Good," he says to Hamon, otherwise ignoring Strange, "are you offering me the use of that knife or are you inclined to. Treat him yourself?" He's not super hyped about that idea but it's not as if he's going to steal a knife off a hamster. Turning his head, he eyes the oozing wound again, frowning as he thinks.

"Probably your heated blade will prove more useful than, any irrigating fluid I could add. Outsi-hide of lava." Because he is a fire fae. It keeps slipping his mind with the man this injured.

Edited 2018-08-13 03:37 (UTC)

Strange's face turns a worrying shade of pale as Herbert mentions the possibility of Hamon treating Ignatius himself. What an intensely awful idea. "Considering that you have the most medical knowledge, it would probably be best if you do the honors. After all, the hamster is a gadgeteer, not a doctor."

Strange won't deny that the heated blade might be useful, he just doubts the hamster's medical credentials. So come on, man up, steal a knife off a hamster!

Hamon looks confused for a moment, as if not sure why he's being offered the opportunity to do surgery, but then considers it with a note of sincere interest. Ultimately, though, he looks at Strange, and then at the tapir, and sighs. He flicks the knife one more time to keep it going, and then hands it over to Herbert.

Meanwhile, Adona brings back some white, mildly stretchy fabric and sets the roll down on the edge of the table. She winces at the conversation.

"Yes, that would be for the best," she agreed. Hamon makes a griping sound, but doesn't further object.

Taking the knife, Herbert smiles down at it with some genuine excitement of his own, and then his ears tilt back slightly and his eyes widen briefly as he remembers to be. Personable.

"Ah... Thank you," he manages, nodding, before climbing three-legged back onto Ignatius and opening his pocket back up for the forceps. The knife, he assumes, will only be heated for so long, so as much as he'd like to pointedly tie some fabric around his face as a makeshift surgical mask, he doesn't really feel he has the time for unnecessary actions solely for the purpose of aggressing Strange.

He has to get down on his belly for this surgery, which is odd, and most assuredly not his preference, but beggars can't be choosers. Makeshift scalpel in one hand and forceps in the other, he starts in on cutting out the most visibly iron-damaged flesh(?) and attempting to cauterise where the worst of the obsidian is oozing from with the red hot flat of the blade.

He'll be completely absorbed in that for a little bit unless anything particularly exciting happens.

And thankfully for Herbert, Strange is staying quiet! He really doesn't want to mess up the surgery or have Herbert hurt Ignatius in some way, so he is keeping his mouth shut and watching anxiously from the mirror like the love interest in any hospital drama when the patient of the day goes under the knife.

He is 100% not paying any attention to anybody trying to get his attention via reflection. Sorry Pap, your idea is good in theory but in practice, Strange's one track mind wins again.

It's fine for the first leg of the surgery. Herbert will actually find it increasingly difficult to cut any of the flesh that isn't iron poisoned, as the longer the iron is off of Ignatius, the more visibly resilient his body seems to become. The wounds that weren't dealt by iron are starting to seal in record time, though it's slower going than it would be if Ignatius was at his full strength.

That does introduce a problem, though, because after the iron is off Herbert will find himself having had less than ten minutes of working time until Ignatius is suddenly spasming, his hands clenching tight as he abruptly starts reacting to the pain of having parts cut out of his gut.

He grits his teeth, groaning as he shifts to kick his legs, like he is trying to push off an attacker. He's not rationally conscious, but he's reacting, and that's enough.

Up til now, Tadpole Jackson has mostly been awkwardly hovering close to elbow, helping move Ignatius as he's directed, though he's looking increasingly gloomy about the whole thing. The tadpole doesn't have enormous emotional depth, but what little he does have is consumed with gentle humming anxiety. He doesn't understand the full implications of what's going on, but he does know one thing... Eruka isn't here.

Which means when Ignatius suddenly jerk like that, his immediate reaction is to startle and slap at the movement with his tail, less to pin him down and more out of reflex.

Herbert does his best to brace but his forepaws aren't exactly as large and versatile as his human hands and he's lying on Ignatius so he has to entirely stop cutting and essentially try to use his wrists in the wound to stay on.

"Make yourself useful, Strange!" he shouts, digging his back claws into the robe rucked up around the fae's upper torso. "Calm down your fae!" He isn't aware of whether or not fae even have an immune system that would deal with expelling iron from the wound. This may be Ignatius' only chance to deal with it, lest it seal up around the infection.

Herbert honestly really wishes he had a book on fae anatomy. Nothing here really makes sense.

Strange has absolutely no clue how to calm down someone who's in the midst of spasming in pain. He especially has no clue how to calm down someone when his only option is 'talk them down' and not anything he can do with his magic. He gives Herbert a panicked little 'how the hell am I supposed to do that?' sort of look before he starts talking, making his voice loud enough that Ignatius can hear him.

"Ignatius! Focus on my voice, everything's fine. I'm sorry I got you into this mess in the first place, but you're safe now. Things will get better, just focus on my voice and stay calm!"

And, unless Herbert or someone else tells him to stop, he'll just keep rambling half-formed apologies and repeated insistences that Ignatius just calm down and focus on Strange's voice.

Before Strange can get to talking, TJ's weight on Ignatius's legs just results in him yelling loudly and urgently, as if escaping is a matter of life and death. Unfortunately for Herbert, the fae's strength is gradually returning as well.

So much so that he kicks TJ in the face, sweeping an arm to try to throw Herbert off of him. He manages to kick Strange's plate right off of the table, too.

It's only after that, that he starts recognizing voices. He jumps to the floor and almost immediately stumbles into a wall, clutching the gut would and generally looking around wild eyed. He drops onto a knee.

Surprised enough to forget which paw has the sharp implement in it but not enough to forget it's there at all, Herbert is easily swept off of Ignatius and onto the ground, landing on his side with both arms stretched immediately and carefully directly above his head. He goes ough and lies there for a moment to catch his breath and his bearings before rolling onto his front, shuffling into position, and pushing up onto his hind legs, looking incredibly awkward. He shuffles totteringly forward until he reaches the table, sets the knife and forceps down on Adona's fabric, then settles himself back down onto all fours and actually looks around for where Ignatius has gone off to.

Ah, there he is.

Truthfully, he isn't certain Strange is qualified to bring Ignatius down from this. Nor does he particularly want to be swatted again. So he walks around to in front of Ignatius, and advances to a couple of metres away. The proverbial cat is out of the bag, he expects, as far as Samyaza's animals learning what the three of them are about.

"Ignatius," he says, attempting to catch his attention, "I'm Dr West, with the Carnival, I'm. Trying to help." He gestures forward with one bloody, cloth-wrapped paw. "You have an iron-tainted abdominal wound I've been attempting to clean. Do you--"

It goes against his impulses as a surgeon to ask this, but desperate times!

"--know how I can help you most...effectively?"

When Strange clatters to the ground, he thankfully lands face up. Unfortunately, he lands facing the entirely wrong direction: at the moment, his view is 80% goat. Thankfully, he can hear the conversation and can offer up his own two cents.

"You can trust him," Strange grudgingly admits. He's being loud again, mostly because he has no idea where anybody is. "West wants to help. I wish this was under better circumstances, but we're making do with what we have."

Ignatius looks at Herbert, and then looks off in the direction that Strange's voice is coming from. Still clutching his wound, he staggers around the table and finds the mirrored plate laying on the floor. He looks completely dumbfounded as he painstakingly bends over to pick it up.

"You've really done it, haven't you?" he says, not looking particularly pleased. At least, however, his voice is more level, composure forcing itself in over his panic and discomfort.

In theory, Strange knows that he's in deep shit. In practice, he's just so relieved that Ignatius is up and talking, that he doesn't really care that he's in deep shit. He lets out a relieved little laugh as he looks up at the fae.

"I'm afraid I have. It's been a day and a half and I'm still inside the Mirror." His bad! Strange gives Ignatius an apologetic smile before he goes right back to business. "But you can chastise me later, when you aren't bleeding. Mind telling West how exactly he should go about patching you up?"

"Unbelievable," Ignatius says, immediately putting the plate down on the table. He leans forward, bracing himself with his arms and burying his head in his hands. He speaks to Herbert without looking up.

"It's fine. All you can do is... stitch it up and leave it." He sounds amazingly exhausted and done with everything.

Herbert just watches the conversation patiently until Ignatius finally responds to him, at which point he makes a stiff, absolutely disgusted face. Well fine, he guesses! This had better be some actual, knowledgeable fae advice and not the uneducated opinion of a magical fire soldier!

"Fine," he says shortly, and runs over to leap back up on the table. He takes a moment with his scissors to trade out his bloody paw wrappings he just tromped all over the ground with some new ones (and to pull his previous bloody tools on a small square of the fabric to one side) before touching Ignatius' arm with one paw.

"Lie back on the table, or on the ground if you can't manage the lift at the moment--I need access to your injury if I'm to. Stitch it up and leave it."

Ignatius looks up to give Herbert a look, before reluctantly sliding back onto the table with a grunt. It's the lowering his head part that's the hardest. Also, his limbs still feel weird and numb.

He rolls his head to the side, looking off into space disinterestedly.

"You can yell at me if you want something to distract you," Strange perks up from his place inside a plate.

Normally, he'd be more fighty and temperamental in this scenario but honestly, he's just so friggen happy that Ignatius is alive, not dying, and well enough that he can actually talk that he'll gladly suffer a round of the fae calling him an idiot.

"I'm not angry at you, wizard," he says, without much heart in it. "I'm angry at myself. Foolish."

Ignatius isn't really one for yelling at people outside of conflict scenarios, anyway.

As Ignatius slides back onto the table, Herbert steps out of the way and cleans the obsidian blood off of the knife and his forceps while he waits. It wouldn't do for that to...harden and make the tools useless? He still isn't certain how this works but it doesn't hurt to be careful. That done, and Ignatius on the table, he trots carefully along to reach his abdomen again and leans over it from the side to make a judgement.

And just....it's so close, is all, he was just a few extractions away from a wound as clean as could be expected with the supplies he has.

"Will...you just..." he blurts out and then trails off, stepping off of Ignatius and walking over to crouch by his turned head. "I'm nearly done extracting all of the iron from your stomach, caaan you just hold out a moment longer--it's not an ideal scenario, I'm aware, but if I close it up in there it's unlikely to heal properly--far more likely to split open again with any future exertion or else stay in there forever as a, constantly enervating foreign body!" He spits that all out in one breathless ramble to avoid giving Ignatius time for interruption until he's said his piece.

Well that's...unexpected. Strange straight up ignores Herbert's fussing about Ignatius's abdomen to talk about his equally important emotional problems.

"But you should be angry at me," Strange responds, with a little frown, barely a moment after Herbert finishes fussing about foreign bodies. "I'm the reason you're in this mess in the first place."

He was the one slow enough to get caught, he was the one who panicked and fled into the Mirror instead of doing something sensible like scouting for magic first. If he saw that Ignatius was there, then the two of them could have had a chance against the Twelve...or, at least, Strange could have protected him better if they were both in jail together.

"Do what you will," Ignatius says to Herbert, still not looking at him. He doesn't have it in him to fight about it. He'd rather it just be over. Strange is the thing that's harder to respond to.

"...I can only speak for my own actions," he says, weary, but with a strained note of tension deep within it. "I can only go to battle with the weapons available to me. I knew what I was dealing with, and I made my choice. My mistakes are my own."

"Good!" says Herbert, abruptly a lot more cheerful. "Gooood." He hurries back to pick up his forceps and get Hamon to set the knife vibrating hot again, then climbs carefully back onto Ignatius and sets to removing the last of the visible internal iron-poisoning. He's as efficient as he can be, although he has to do a bit of clambering back and forth and leaning to reach the cuts he needs to make, and to place the resulting fae flesh beside Ignatius on the table. More like drop than place, really, with his required positioning.

There's probably time for some more awkward conversation while Herbert deals with it, unfortunately for Ignatius.

Also, hilariously, Herbert has a bit of a cat blep going while he works. He's concentrating, alright?

⇨ EDEN PT. 3

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