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 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.

The two employees are silent, until one gasps in realization. "They came because of you! That's why you're sorry!"

Syrlya holds back a grimace, looking over his shoulder to shoot Strange a sour look. That wasn't exactly the details he was looking to share with frightened civilians he wants to trust them to save their lives.

"Please look for the Ringmaster," he says wearily, turning back to the pair. "Listen. We want to prevent as much damage by the hunt as possible. But it will help us help you if we know of someplace safe you can go until the danger passes."

They both look uncertain... but they don't have a lot of choice right now. "There's... a hidden passage that goes below the bathhouse. We were trying to get there, but heard them coming and hid in here."

Strange gives Syrlya an annoyed look in return. What would Syrlya rather he do, lie and say everything's alright? These people need to know the danger they're in.

"Tell me what room this hidden passage is in. I might be able to get all of us there." It all depends on mirrors and reflections and if Strange knows the room to begin with, but it's at least worth a shot. As he talks, he divides the reflection into four parts. The lines he trace briefly glow before they fade.

"Take a look," Strange explains to Syrlya. He gestures to the sink: the magic does show the Ringmaster. But her surroundings are fuzzy, as if multiple images were overlaid on each other and the connection wasn't all that good to begin with. "My scrying's been acting up thanks to all that doubles nonsense but it's never been this bad."

"It's--down in the laundry room, but..." Well, understandably they're not totally sure about their chances of survival even with these two.

Syrlya glances back to the door before rising to his feet and coming to Strange's side. He squints at the image, trying to make it out.

"It's like you are seeing her in two different--thorns, did she break into two as well?" If it's the doubling up messing with his scrying, especially if he's looking for every facet of the Ringmaster and not just one of them.

"See if you can focus on one of her," he says, lowering his voice low before moving to the door to press his ear to it. Still quiet.

So whole Strange attempts to focus, he looks back to the two employees. "If you can direct us to that room, we can take you there safely."

Strange is trying to focus and trying to get the scrying to stabilize, but no luck. He mutters a few spells at the sink, concentrating hard on the image, but he's getting more and more annoyed as time passes. Eventually, he wipes the image away with a scowl.

"It's no use. The splitting is due to the Silver Mirror," Strange explains, trying his hardest not to show how annoyed he is by this whole situation. "Combining the magic of that with the Ringmaster's inherent fae magic is probably why the damn thing won't stabilize. Things would be different if I had more time."

But they don't and Strange knows it. He could spend more time focusing on the magic, only to have some member of the Hunt burst into their hiding spot before it was finished. It'd be better to put his efforts elsewhere.

"I've no idea where the laundry room is, otherwise I could make a connection," said with a vague gesture to the sink. "Walking to there it is."

Time is exactly what they don't have, and Syrlya isn't inclined to remain sitting ducks in a cramped space.

"Can you take us?" He asks the pair, shifting his sword so he can offer his hand to them, to help them up. They look between each other, before the first employee takes Syrlya's hand to stand. "Yes, we can..."

Syrlya nods once, with a flash of a smile. "Good. I will do what I can to cover our tracks. You just focus on leading the way."

As Syrlya helps people up, Strange stands at a distance. Partly because his hair's on fire, partly because his arm still smarts from when he got shot earlier and he wants to hide that as much as possible, partly because now that he's focusing with his third eye, his hand is on fire as well.

"I'll keep an eye out for any traces of fae magic." Since Syrlya will be busy covering the tracks and since Strange can actually see magic to begin with. "If I say run, then you run. Leave us behind and focus on your own safety."

After all, it'd be foolish to assume that they could get everyone to the laundry room without some other hunting party running into them along the way.

The employees nod obediently, being far less equipped to survive an actual attack than Strange or Syrlya.

It's a quick gesture to cover them all in invisibility, and then Syrlya steps back and adjusts his sword back to a more ready position. "Give me a moment to make certain our path is clear."

With that, he disappears from sight. It's a few long seconds, before the door to the room opens partially and Syrlya speaks in a low voice. "Come quickly, and keep quiet."

They pretty much have one shot at this.

Strange nods at Syrlya's assessment. He's well aware of the danger of the situation as well.

And so, the group starts to make their way through the chaos towards the laundry room. Strange is nothing but business, keeping an eye out as he examines the surroundings with his magic, trying to find the dangers before they find them. They've been walking for about a minute or so before Strange places a hand in front of the group, in a pretty universal symbol for stop.

"There's some sort of magic up at that fork in the road," Strange murmurs. "It's not fae, but I can't recognize it."

It's some poor magical beast caught up in the sway of the Hunt. But as Strange is best at piecing out magic he knows, he doesn't know what type of magical beast most likely awaits them. "How strong is this cover?"

"It will not hide any noise or attacks that you make." It blocks one sense, not all five.

"Stay back behind me, I will see what it is." He doesn't wait for Strange to argue before taking the lead, teleporting himself close to the fork in the road to minimize his footsteps as he tries to peer around and see what it is.

What Syrlya sees is a wyvern. However, unlike the dragon sized animals he's probably fought because he's in a fantasy rpg, this one is closer to horse sized. It's sniffing around and looking very confused but thankfully, isn't fae. It's moving towards the fork as if it caught the scent of the group.

Strange is still staying with the bathhouse attendants. However, he does effortlessly cast a fireball, mostly so he can toss it at something, should the situation go south.

It's baby sized. Not a creature he'd normally contest alone, even while young, but they have civilians here--and it's clearly catching their scent.

He looks back and gestures for Strange to stay in place, holding his hand in a stopping position as emphasis. Once he feels the intent is clear, he twists around the corner, watches for a second--and then moves to teleport as a back angle from the wyvern.

And then he lunges to try and cut across its neck. The disrupts the invisibility on him, but Strange and the two employees won't be effected.

The hide around the creature's neck is tough: scales over top of a leathery skin. So while Syrlya succeeds in cutting the neck and getting the thing to start to bleed, he doesn't do the full tilt badass neck swipe that he was probably intending to do. The wyvern lets out a loud, slightly gurgly cry of pain before swishing it's tail around to try and knock straight into Syrlya.

As he hears the noise of the creature, Strange gets the feeling that Syrlya is doing something intensely stupid. After cautioning the two civilians to hide, he charges forward towards Syrlya and the wyvern, muttering a spell under his breath. This means that when Strange rounds the corner, he's got a perfectly formed fireball which he almost instantly chucks at the beast.

Edited 2018-09-28 13:22 (UTC)

Syrlya's form warps through magic just as the tail's about to strike him, and instead it goes through as if he isn't there. It spares him getting knocked around--and he doesn't have a lot of good ways to get around thick hide, so even just a cut is encouraging enough that he should try and wedge that wound more open...

Of course, then there's a fireball exploding and that throws off his focus. Stray flames flick against his shield from the proximity and he looks up to find--damn it, Strange.

He's going to have to reconsider his approach a little, if he can't keep the wyvern's focus. So instead he gestures to place magic wells under it in quick succession, hopefully before it flees: one to slow it down, and the other to strike it with painful raw magic for the seconds that the clocks tick down.

Strange is making a very good target for the wyvern, as he tosses fireball after fireball at the creature. The fire is doing some damage, but the thick hide of the creature is negating some of the effects. The wyvern roars at Strange and skitters forward...however, it's caught by the magic. The tail is still lashing like the wyvern was trying to knock Syrlya over, but it's slowed down and definitely in pain thanks to the magic.

"Idiot!" Strange calls out, as tosses one more fireball at it. "You said you'd only see what it is, not attack the damn thing by yourself!"

Because why else would Syrlya be so close to the beast?

"Who's watching the employees?!" Not Strange, obviously! He's not even going to entertain arguing about his decision to kill it instead while looking right now. This needs to be finished quickly.

Syrlya lets his shield slip off his arm and tosses his sword to the other hand before he lunges to grab the base of the wyvern's wing, holding tight to support himself as the tail just catches his legs and knocks his balance.

He needed to get down, anyway, and from a kneeled position he thrusts his blade to stab it through the opening in the neck he's made, cutting up vertically to shred muscle and bone within the throat.

As Syrlya's grabbing the wing, Strange is running towards the wyvern. He's spotted the neck wound and has a fairly good idea of what he should do now.

The knife sticks. As Syrlya shreds the muscle and bone, the wyvern lets out another yelp of pain. The wyvern moves down to chomp at Syrlya. At the same time, a plume of purple smoke (Strange, in smoke form) moves down into the creature's throat via the neck wound. Hopefully if he asphyxiates the damn thing, it'll fall down faster than just stabbing.

Syrlya shifts as he sees the neck turn, trying to cause more damage at the angle. Creatures, at least, are predictable, so Syrlya keeps his gaze trained on the wyvern's head as it flails after him. At least he knows he has its attention, now.

There's a burst of magic around Syrlya's person as it nearly bites into it, stunning the creature with a mental blow. It spares his shoulder, and with Strange poisoning it from the inside it probably doesn't have long.

Syrlya scrambles up when he feels its weight start to sag and jerks the blade out.

Strange can't really tell much of what's going on from inside the creature's lungs. It's ten or so seconds after the thing actually dies before he floats out of the wyvern's mouth, away from the body, and reforms, looking a little sick and a lot angry as he does so.

"If you had only scouted ahead like you said you would, I could have poisoned it without all this nonsense. Lord knows something probably heard it going on like that." But then again, Syrlya barely trusted him in the first place. Why would he do something useful like 'work as a team' or 'relay information back to someone'? Strange continues to scowl as he walks back to where the two workers were hiding.

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