lostcarnival | ⇨ WYLD HUNT

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⇨ WYLD HUNT

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 100
Where: Shabondamashii
What: The Wyld Hunt unexpectedly crashes the Shabon's dimension, leaving chaos in its wake. Those that have been with the carnival for a while might recognize it as the personal army of a fae called the Huntsman - also known as one of the Ringmaster's age old rivals, whom she dethroned thousands of years ago. The last we heard of him, he was pursuing the carnival, and it turns out he found them faster than anyone thought.
Warnings: Violence, theoretical cannibalism.

THE AUTUMN MOON↴

There isn't any warning. You might not even notice what's happening at first, with the approach of the threat happening as spontaneously as a zombie uprising. You're minding your own business, enjoying Shabon, when a random alien charges you on foot with sudden and aggressive intent. Whether or not you can throw them off or defeat them, you'll soon find they weren't alone. An entire army is descending upon the city now, and the carnival is the target.

► THEY ARE LEGION: The Wyld Hunt comes in all shapes and sizes, with beasts and men from all kinds of different universes having been caught up in its sway. Those that have been in the Hunt for a long while have more or less completely lost themselves - they now function only as part of a pack, hunting whatever the Huntsman wishes and consuming what their prey leaves behind upon death. Some members of the Hunt are newer and more unsure, but they are all a part of a psychic hive mind that compels them to move as a unit. Everyone in the Wyld Hunt instinctively know what the Huntsman wants them to do, even if they never speak to him.

Their skills, powers, and physicalities are all over the board, but there are a notably large quantity of Wyld Fae among them, often being used as mounts by more powerful humanoids within the Hunt. When NPCing members of the Hunt for threading purposes there is a lot of flexibility to what you face, including entities and beasts from your own worlds - provided they are creatures capable of functioning independently.

► HUNT OR BE HUNTED: When set upon by the Hunt, it is easy to become overwhelmed. Unfortunately, in that situation, the only way to beat them is to join them. Beginning to hunt alongside the others will immediately pacify them against you. As soon as you start to follow, the thrum of the Huntsman's will will start to take over - the more you hunt, the harder it is to turn away from it. If you do stop, or successfully oppose the compulsion, they will be quick to set upon you again. Like the others, you will feel the craving to consume any individuals the Hunt has felled - you must resist this, because once you have eaten the prey of the Hunt, you'll be trapped within it indefinitely.

► WORN OUT WELCOME: The people of Shabon are used to crisis, but this is a bit beyond what even they are prepared to tolerate. The Hunt will be causing collateral, both of the human and the material sort. While the workers in Shabon have very well practiced escape procedures in the event of something like this, the other guests are not as fortunate. Plenty of them are capable of fighting back on their own, but they will not always be capable of avoiding the hordes. The longer this goes on, the worse it will get. Eventually, the Shabon workers will realize who the Hunt is after and start actively trying to turn carnival members over to them in order to make it stop.

► IN TWO PARTS: Tragically, this turn of events and the realization that she's managed to put everyone in danger once again will be what finally causes the Ringmaster to split in two. One side will immediately become disinterested in using violence to counter this problem, while the other will be desperate and reckless. This will also completely screw her ability to get anyone back to the carnival in time. There will be at least one Megathread dealing with her actions during this.

PLEASE NOTE: This is a conflict the carnival is meant to survive, not win. The main point of this is to get the plot rolling in a new direction, so don't worry about figuring out how to defeat the Huntsman, because in this moment it basically won't be possible. Have fun threading out the crisis, and see where it leads. I wanted to be up front about that, as opposed to letting everyone grasp at straws to prevent a result that will be inevitable, even if the details will shift.

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Strange reacts at about the same time that Syrlya does. As the three are struck with raw magic, he poofs into smoke, as if he was anticipating that they'd strike him. The earth wall stops moving and growing as Strange floats backwards a bit before reforming and running over to the side, further away from the hunter and two wolves and closer to Syrlya.

Being set on fire plus having enough pain that it feels like electrocution is enough for one of the wolves. It collapses due the pain of Syrlya's magic as the hunter and the wolf buckle to their knees. The hunter that Syrlya stabbed isn't quite dead yet. He's on his feet now as he brings out a nasty looking hunting dagger and takes a swing at Syrlya.

It's good, but not quite enough. Strange dodges out of place, which eases Syrlya. He places another spell, a spectre of himself that lunges with strict focus on the hunter that had previously been after Strange.

With that he turns twists following through with his blade--but by that point the hunter that he thought had been in a dying throw lunges for him, too close.

He doesn't make it out of the way, choking on a pained sound as the dagger stabs down in the center of his chest, getting caught halfway by the denseness of the matter.

He hunches with a wheezing breath, but takes having the hunter caught by his dagger to slash in an attempt to shred as much of the hunter's neck as he can with his blade.

Thankfully, Syrlya manages to shred the hell out of that hunter's neck. He collapses, bleeding on the ground. One hunter down, one wolf down, one hunter and two wolves remaining.

"Syrlya!" Strange yells, not even bothering to hide the emotion and panic in his voice. Considering that it looked like it went straight through the heart, Strange is assuming that Syrlya's definitely dead. He can mourn later. Right now, he needs to stay alive.

Strange turns to look at the other hunter. He downright glares at the man before he mutters a few words under his breath, then purses his lips slightly like he's sucking in air. Strange is casting the same asphyxiation spell that he attempted to murder Lambert with in the Athenaeum. Fortunately, it's killing this guy a lot faster than it hurt someone with beefy witcher strength.

Unfortunately, there are still dogs. One of the wolves lunges towards Strange and bites onto his leg: there's an oddly metallic sounding 'crunch.' The second wolf is growling at Syrlya, not entirely sure if this plant thing is alive or not.

Syrlya stumbles back when the weight of the hunter releases the dagger, leaving it sticking out of him. He hears Strange call him name, and maybe he should pull it out, but they're not out of trouble yet. He can't focus on that.

His body tenses as he pushes past the pain. Under them, another spell circles the ground and ticks beneath them. This time, it's like magic coats then in pulses, a sorter barrier between them and injury.

It won't save Strange from the first attack, but it buys them precious seconds. He twists is blade over the wolf focused on Strange, putting his weight into thrusting the blade downward through its neck.

The man that Strange is trying to asphyxiate is now successfully dead. Though Strange is certainly surprised when Syrlya is actually alive and coherent enough to actually stab someone. With a little whimper, the wolf dies. Still, he's not complaining.

Strange stops his air magic and focuses back on fire. He gestures at the last wolf and a large jet of fire erupts from beneath it. The fire is slowly becoming second nature: Strange doesn't even have to speak for this one. He just focuses on holding the flames and trying to burn the last wolf alive.

Syrlya draws his sword up with an unpleasant sound as it pulls from the corpse, immediately turning his attention to the final wolf. He's not about to get up close and personal while it's on fire, so instead he summons another phantasm to strike and cripple it.

It probably won't be long, given the massive cone of fire itself is overkill. Syrlya lets out a haggard breath as it seems to crumple before he tensely starts the area.

It's clear (and a bloody mess) now, so Syrlya finally looks down at the dagger sticking straight in him. He grunts deep in his throat, before moving his sword to his other hand so he can grab the dagger and pull it out. He squints at the blade, turning it slowly.

"It doesn't look poisoned," he says with relief, like he still wasn't just stabbed.

Strange lets the fire burn for a moment, even after the wolf is obviously dead. He pauses, taking a few harried breaths, staring at the fire in a slightly disassociative state. Syrlya's words snap him back to reality. With a wave of his hand, he snuffs the fire out.

"Mind telling me just how the hell you survived getting stabbed in the heart?" Strange is trying to sound light and nonchalant but it's obvious watching Syrlya get stabbed is worrying him a lot more than he wants to let on.

"Hm?" Syrlya looks up with more honest nonchalance. There's a slight twist if pain as he absently pokes the skin near the wound... but it doesn't seem severe. He should be fine.

He looks to Strange, then, pausing as he regards what he's asking. "Oh...! I don't have a heart organ."

He thinks the heart's an organ? He's not an expert on flesh biology. "Not like other races do. It has not punctured anything but flesh."

He's not coughing up sap, anyway, so he's sure it missed the lungs.

Oh. Right. Syrlya's a plant. Strange can't help but laugh, a little relieved laugh, before he shakes his head. "You bastard. You had me worried for a moment."

Strange starts to move over towards Syrlya. However, he can only take a few steps before he winces. Hmm. Seems like the wolf must have put enough pressure to break some of his mirrors. Strange bends down slightly, so he's got a hand on the ground to balance himself, as he turns the bitten leg to smoke. Two small shards of mirrored covering fall out of the smoke and land on the ground before Strange reforms his leg.

As he does this kind of odd thing, he's talking. Strange is forcing his voice to be nonchalant: he can't dwell on this. Not now. "Since you're alive, help me think this through. What the hell should we do with the bodies?"

"I told you, I'm made of sturdier stuff!" His expression twists into a wry smirk. Although the humor drains a little when Strange flinches and kneels down.

"Here--" Syrlya lowers a little himself, hand outstretched to put a lighter clock circle beneath them. This one will immediately ease the pain in Strange, although the active healing properties aren't as strong as they are for Syrlya. Still, it'll recover some of the damage for both of them for the few seconds it's active.

And then Strange drops mirror shards out of himself snd Syrlya stares at them. "What--? Oh, leave them, unless you want to use them for necromancy."

The bodies are super not important to him. He points at the shards. "What is that?"

It really shows just how much his time in the carnival's changed Strange that he honestly considers necromancy for a moment. But no, if he did that, all they'd have on their hands were shambling corpses that he couldn't really control or kill.

"I can only revive the dead, not control them. Besides, I don't have my dagger on me."

But ah. Those shards. Strange stands up, remaining in the healing circle as he does so. "The shards are a gift from the Silver Mirror. My bones, organs, and some of my muscles are covered in them, much like my scars." And before Syrlya can say anything, Strange continues talking. "You can chastise me about this later. Right now, we don't have the time."

"So it changed you too." That's three for three. It's actually less surprising than the possibility of him getting out unscathed, after two days in the mirror.

He pauses, mulling something over before he adjusts his hold on the knife, offering it to Strange with the hilt pointed out. "You should have some sort of armament for things that get too close to you."

Just... ignore that it was stabbed through Syrlya two seconds ago. He's trying to.

This knife is still covered in sap. Strange tries not to look disgusted as he takes the knife and wipes it off on his pants leg. This is kind of gross.

"We need to find their leaders," Strange continues. "I'm not foolish enough to think we can kill the Huntsman but an army of this size must have plenty of lower ranked officers to carry out his orders."

Says the man who is thinking of this like an actual conflict, not a magical one.

Normally Syrlya would agree to that, and it was his notion when they were in Eden and the Twelve clearly took a high rank (followed down by their scholars). But it didn't sound like an army how he and Shimmer had explained it before. That doesn't mean there's not some way to cripple the assault, but they need more details how they behave.

"Shimmer said it was much like your hunting parties. What is the structure of leadership for those?" Even Mordremoth had higher ranks despite the hivemind, so he won't assume the Huntsman wouldn't still do something to that effect.

Strange frowns a moment, thinking to himself. "Mostly it's communal. The person who owns the land makes the land suitable for hunting, invites everyone, and sets it up. Gameskeepers and shoot captains organize the hunt and delegate which group shoots when. Beaters clean up afterwards."

His frown deepens as he looks over at the corpses. "But the hunting parties of my world...they're not this big. I've come across more of the Huntsman's men and he has an actual army."

Hunting parties can easily be organized. Armies cannot.

"But Shimmer said that those hunting parties were a reasonable comparison to this." He gestures out to the corpses. It doesn't really matter if they're not this big. They've already been given insight, and he's keeping it in mind. "Although they behave like this is a free for all."

He pauses, his brow furrowing. "Moss was able still able to understand his will quite precisely. There's must be a mental connection between the Huntsman and those under him, but we do not know how far it goes back to him."

Do they act as his eyes and ears as much as he guides them? That's worrying. "Our priority should be finding the Ringmaster and everyone in the carnival and retreating."

"I can see and dispell magic. If we capture one of them alive, I can try to analyze the spell before breaking it." Strange's tone isn't optimistic: this is fae magic, after all, and it's a lot more powerful than his is. Still, he's broken fae magic before so it's worth a shot.

"But you're right." Strange pauses a little before continuing. "I'm worried about the Ringmaster. There was an, erm, incident earlier and Peridot tried to call her on the radio. She didn't answer."

The incident was Ignatius trying to kill himself, but Strange isn't gonna give Syrlya the specifics! "I was trying to find a less chaotic place so I could scry for her."

"Are you the one suggesting kidnapping now?" he says with a twist on his face that's blatantly sarcastic. It's not like, if they had more time, capturing one of them to figure out the depths of the connection would be a bad thing. But not in the middle of a battle. There's bigger priorities.

Like that the Ringmaster isn't answering, and that gives him pause. "She's not--? Hold on. Stay here."

Syrlya leans back slightly, and proceeds to disappear from sight. He returns to sight half a minute later, more to the side with a tense expression.

"The entrance to the carnival is gone. How much of a reflection do you need to scry?"

Strange is about to rebut that he wouldn't torture that person, things are different, but he knows that now isn't the time nor the place to tell Syrlya how wrong he is.

He will acquiesce to a bit of bitching and moaning under his breath during that half minute that Sylrya's gone. The jerk.

It's when Syrlya returns that Strange furrows his brow a little. That's not good. "The bigger the better: if you want clear results, it needs to be at least the size of a dinner plate." He frowns, before continuing. "I can call forth a rain to provide it, but it'd give away our location."

"Then let's find you something." He gestures for Strange to follow before adjusting his hold on his blade back to a more offensive position. He starts ahead, eyes peeled for anything that'll be viable for scrying. Hopefully all the good options haven't been smashed up and ruined by the hunt.

Strange is also keeping a close eye out as he follows Syrlya, dagger that they stole at the ready.

"See if you can spot any puddles or baths as well. Aside from the size, the reflection has to be clear." Which in theory would be easy as they're in a bathhouse but in practice is a bit harder than expected, thanks to the blood and mud kicked up in all the chaos.

Too bad he can't just scry in blood, but Syrlya doesn't say that.

He nods, looking around for a reflection as much as he is any signs of the hunt. It won't do if they're ambushed while looking, so he's taking dedicated lookout.

There's a door that he stops by, pausing before nudging it open with his shoulder. It's a bathroom, dim and empty--except for the two spa employees cowering in the corner, obviously trying to hide.

That sink is probably ideal for scrying, though.

Now that they're entering a space with actual walls, it's obvious that Strange is favoring one arm over the other. He pushes the door open with one arm and tries to keep the arm he isn't using from brushing up against the walls or fixtures.

He looks around as they enter the bathroom. Once Strange spots the sink, he instantly makes a beeline for it and turns on the water. Thankfully, the pipes are still intact. Letting out a sigh of relief, Strange plugs the drain and starts to wait for the sink to fill up. While he does so, he's resting a little, propping his back up against the wall for what feels like the first time in ages.

"Don't worry," he says to the employees, giving them a little nod. "We're not going to hurt you."

While Strange goes for the sink, Syrlya checks behind them before quietly closing the door. Both employees huddle closer, too scared to draw more attention to themselves at first in fear.

"What... what's happening out there?" One of them finally whispers in a lost, trembling voice. Syrlya turns around, lower his blade as he takes a few steps and crouches by their level to give Strange the room to focus on scrying, not comforting.

"I'm sorry," he offers with a faint, regretful smile. "Please keep your head down, and we won't let harm come to you."

That's not something he can promise, but he sounds so assured. "Can you tell me if anything like this has happened before?"

The second employee shakes her head rapidly. "No! At least... never this bad."

Edited 2018-09-21 05:30 (UTC)

Strange can at least answer what's happening out there. And, considering Syrlya might not have heard Yuya's radio broadcast in all the chaos, he should fill him in also.

"It's the Wyld Hunt. A powerful fae called the Huntsman has arrived, most likely to attack and try to kill the Ringmaster and other members of the carnival." He looks over to Syrlya and explains, "Ignatius told me that."

By now, the sink's fairly full with water. Walking over to it, Strange turns off the faucet and starts to murmur his spell.

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