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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"You mean your decision to throw yourself into Ignatius' service? Or your idea to use a powerful artifact no one knew enough about to lift your curse, as if that was going to be easy?" No, he doesn't consider a lot of those decisions to have merit.

"No Strange, I'm not going to consider a poorly planned out and fatally executed decision to have merit. If you would act with your mind instead of your heart, you would accomplish more. Instead, you throw yourself recklessly to terrible consequences that effect everyone else, especially people who care about you!"

"You've got it wrong," Strange continues, in a sing-song voice. "I didn't fatally execute anything. It's the fault of those three that I died."

And it will be his fault when Lambert dies, a small little voice points out in the back of his head. But no, he's not going to think about that now.

"Besides, I've accomplished plenty. I've done so much more for myself and the carnival than most people realize!"

Syrlya purses his lips, jerking his attention back away from Strange. He's not sure if the tightness in his chest is more frustration or the herbicide now.

"Fine. You can do no wrong, you know and do better than everyone else, you don't care about anything that doesn't suit your own self-inflated importance," he hisses the end of it, looking around. They haven't run into trouble so far... just where has the Hunt gone?

He tightens his grip on his blade. "I'm worried about you, Strange, and I doubt I'm the only one! But it seems like you care about nothing but your own ego, and maybe your wife."

Strange stops walking for a moment. He looks over at Syrlya, squinting slightly and frowning as he gives the man a once over. What he said doesn't make any sense.

"Why would you worry about me in the first place?" he asks, still hallucinating that Syrlya is someone else entirely. There's genuine confusion and curiosity in Strange's voice.

"Because I care that you don't get yourself killed or permanently mangled." Unfortunately. "And it is my duty, not that you ever make that easy."

He glances to him, once. "You have noticed you're hallucinating, haven't you? The Fae poisoned you."

Strange looks over at Syrlya...and then starts laughing, like this is the funniest thing he's heard. The fire in his hand snuffs itself out as Strange puts both hands to his mouth to stave off the giggles.

"You poor, misguided tree," he manages in between giggles. "If I am hallucinating, it is because I am mad. It's as simple as that. All you need to do is wait a while and the madness will pass."

"As long as you will let it pass somewhere that the hunt will not tear you to pieces. Like the temple," he says wearily.

"Look--I can teleport you right there. Please stop walking and let me help you."

Strange just continues laughing, as he shakes his head.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I may not know who formed you nor do I know what you want, but I know what you are. You may accompany me to the temple. I won't let your kind trick me again."

And then, still way too leisurely for Syrlya's comfort, Strange continues walking towards the direction of the temple.

"... I hope you remember all of this when you are sane again." If only so it's no surprise when Syrlya tries to kill him.

He falls quiet as he puts his attention back to their surroundings, sans the occasional restrained cough.

They walk in silence for about five or so minutes before Strange, always fond of hearing the sound of his own voice, starts friggen talking again.

"You said you care that I don't get myself killed. Why? I don't know what you want from me, but surely it would be easier if I was out of the way."

Syrlya wrinkles his nose. "Because I am not a callous, selfish monster who wishes someone dead because they frustrate me."

What kind of question is that, anyway? "And it is my job to protect you as a member of the carnival, which you don't make easy."

Like now.

"Yes, but you aren't a member of the carnival," Strange points out, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. You're a moss oak, Syrlya, get with the program, you're a completely different type of tree to begin with.

And then the obvious hits him: oh God, the Ringmaster signed new people on during Shabon. Christ, what was she doing? Why would she think something like that was a good idea? Strange's expression goes from confusion to annoyance in a matter of moments.

"Well, tree, since you are a member of the carnival, I suppose I should fill you in on how things work around here. Ostensibly there are supervisors, but in reality there's far too much chaos for those things to matter much. If you wish to learn magic, I can teach you. If you wish to learn fighting, Lambert can teach you. You should learn one or the other or you'll become firewood soon enough."

And Strange gets the giggles at his intensely stupid joke.

Syrlya absolutely does not have the energy to play along with Strange's hallucination right now. So when he counters with that same delusion, Syrlya just sighs. Right, that's not what he's asking about at all.

"It does not matter because you would not listen to them anyway. Is there a reason you are taking your time returning to the temple?"

"Because the weather is nice," Strange simply responds. There's a pause because that's obviously not the entire reason before Strange admits, "And I'm concerned about the leeches. That alleyway was swarming with them. If I see any more, I'll need to set them on fire."

This makes perfect sense in Strange's mind. He's obviously a bit nervous and tense about the simple idea of leeches. Guess who just discovered he's got a fun new phobia!

"... Leeches." Right, okay. Syrlya was under the depression ocean when all that was going on, so he has no context outside of Strange's hallucinations.

"You'd be safe from them in the temple, you realize. The sooner you get there, the sooner you stop being leeches."
This is probably bullshit, he doesn't care.

This is definitely bullshit. But it's bullshit that sounds like it's got some sort of basis in reality, so Strange nods. That does make sense. Steven's got some sort of magical barrier at the temple, doesn't he? That should keep out the leeches.

"Very well," Strange remarks, with a sigh. "But if I spot any leeches there, I'm burning the place to the ground."

The odd behavior continues as Strange just...stops moving for a moment. Instead of walking forward, letting Syrlya teleport him or anything like that, he bends down and places his fingers on the ground. "I'll permit you to accompany me," he says, before Strange starts to mutter a spell.

Syrlya glances down furrowing his brow. That's not the same spell to summon water, is it?

"All... right." Does he want to ask? He's not sure he does. But he feels like he should be bracing himself.

It's the spell to summon ice. Ice moves from Strange's hands across the street like he's Queen Elsa or something like that. The ice is a solid half an inch thick: thick enough to provide a good reflection.

Standing up, Strange looks particularly smug and happy with himself. "Come, stupid tree," he says, offering his hand to Syrlya, blissfully unaware that Syrlya is going to murder him in his sleep after all this is done. "You're either coming with me or going back yourself."

Syrlya glares at Strange... and then steps onto the ice, gently enough not to break it. He doesn't grab Strange's hand, though.

He grabs his wrist in a vice grip. "Lead the way."

Hot dang, is Syrlya trying to break his wrist or something? Strange gives Syrlya a look that's plainly 'what's your damage' before he mutters an incantation and the two of them vanish through the ice...and reappear in a narratively convenient puddle in the temple!

"There we go. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go hunt for leeches."

Syrlys releases his wrist as soon as they cross through the reflection. "As long as you stay in the temple... and try not to set anyone else aflame while you're at it."

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⇨ WYLD HUNT

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