⇨ POLARIS

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone!
When: Days 102 - 109
Where: Polaris
What: With the Ringmaster kidnapped and the rest of the carnival imprisoned, characters find themselves at the mercy of a Winter Fae called the Mother of Invention.
Warnings: Graphic experimentation in places.

TRIALS & TRIBULATION↴ After a day of cleansing and processing, where all the belongings and attire of their old lives are stripped away and replaced with something newer and more form fitting, the former members of the carnival will find themselves let loose into the Farm for the first time. A sizable green area, filled with orchards growing inorganic looking fruits and field ready for tending, the Farm is where they will be spending their days for the forseeable future. Food and drink are no longer needed, and so every day is an endless cycle of work. Technicians are seen only when necessary, and when being taken from your place of work to your lonesome cells at night. Every day, there are new postings on the "Production Board", where various dire sound scientific trials ask for subjects. The majority won't be forced, at least not yet, but the system is at work to push its participants to the brink and force their hand. After all, volunteers make the best subjects. ► PRODUCTIVITY: As explained elsewhere, characters will be forced to compete to attain enough Productivity Point to be considered Satisfactory. There are literally not enough points to go around for everyone to attain this, which means that at least some people will be deemed "Below Expectations" by the end of the first four-day cycle. What this means has yet to be discovered, but the Technicians have grimly warned against it. Productivity involves many tasks, including orchard picking, tilling, planting, harvesting, watering, maintenance, and more. Any task you can think of that would take place on a plantation is applicable here. Beyond that, the Production Board awaits you, offering precious Productivity Points in exchange for your cooperation. How you become Satisfactory is up to you, but it's every person for themselves. Only one person can turn in the credit for harvesting or preparing fields, and while you can certainly try to help others by letting them take credit for your work, it's a sure fire way to fall behind the herd, especially if you are already in a low Classification. Fruits and fields will miraculously grow overnight, and will be ready for a new day when you are. You've been told not to eat anything you harvest, but right now you aren't hungry anyway. ► POLARIS BY NIGHT: During the night, you are left alone to your thoughts and maybe an annoying roommate. Solo or in pairs, the entire night will be spent in small sleep pods, as shown on the locations post. Is it possible to sneak out? It doesn't seem like it is, but who is to say? The real question is if you want to dare to try. There is one hour of rest before and after seven hours of darkness. Even if you don't usually have to sleep, you'll find yourself oddly weary and inclined to rest. Supernaturally, almost. ► PARTICIPATION: Sometimes participation in experimental trials is manditory, sometimes it isn't. You are free to handwave your character having been pulled aside for minor examinations, such as blood tests or aura scans. Each time, you will be pulled into a separate part of the station and analyzed by a Technician and heavily automated machinery. Anymore more complex than basic check-up level tests will be posted about in a section called "TRIALS" in the body of the post below.

Comments

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya had been pretty attentive of the other scores after he returned to the board, to have an idea where the carnival stands. Not as bad as they could be, thankfully... but Lambert's name in red is noticable, worrying, and he seeks him out in between tasks just in time to see him chuck a spade around the field.

"Lambert?" Syrlya himself has a hoe which he slings over his shoulder.

[whattaprick]

Lambert looks up, expression flattening out briefly, before he recognizes who it is addressing him. He still doesn't exactly relax, but his expression isn't as hard, and he nods.

"Not dead yet, huh?" Or maybe not still dead? He isn't sure, but Syrlya's missing presence from the field during that particular trial day, his knowledge of his history, and the scores on the board all suggest the Mesmer signed up for that particular joyride.

[chronosynthesis]

"Not permanently." Truthfully, it was still less unpleasant than being tortured to a slow, flammable death to bait out an ally. But not by much.

"How are you faring?" His tone is a little implicit he saw those results, and he's wondering about the repercussions.

[whattaprick]

“They were pretty eager to tell us trials are the only way to stay out of trouble, but they skimped a little on the details of exactly what that trouble would feel like,” Lambert answers dryly, with no humor.

“I’m feeling hungry again. And more tired than I should. Looks like if you fail they want to make you fall as fast as you can.”

[chronosynthesis]

So that's the repercussion. Syrlya frowns. "Do you need any assistance not falling below expectations the second time? We do not know what the point of no recovery is."

And they can't really afford to lose some of the people who might actually have the ability to structure an escape go missing. Lambert's still the Nightrider as far as Syrlya's concerned.

[whattaprick]

"Honestly? I don't want to meet their fucking expectations." Lambert knows he's just being obtuse and stubborn, though, and scrubs a hand over his face, lips pursed.

"Farm work wouldn't be enough, anyway. You saw the scores, right?." He nods at Syrlya. "Looks like Zetas can get by just by doing farmwork, so long as they aren't ass at it. Etas need at least one trial to pass." The problem is, way too many people are ass at farmwork. Whoops.

"But there aren't enough trials or farmwork to go around," he continues. "We're going to lose people no matter what."

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya's eyebrows shoot straight up into his bangs. "Yes, the longer we are trapped here the greater the risk we will lose people permanently. But you are the Nightrider. If we lose you, our organization is crippled."

More than their shitty organization cripples itself, anyway. Surely Lambert grasps this, it's the same logic that they pursued the architects over. "One trial and moderate work in the farm is enough to sustain our tenure as an Eta. I suspect less work here means needing more trials."

Which is something he's also considered. Having experienced one, those who are sturdier to the physical and mental trauma are better off taking trials so that the farming is left to their more fragile members. There's just the concern of qualifications.

[whattaprick]

"We've got you, Rita, and Sans," Lambert points out, sensibly. Or maybe not-so-sensibly. Sans has been going at it pretty hard for an Epsilon, it seems like, and given Sans doesn't have much of a tendency to go hard for anything, Lambert can't tell if it's because the skeleton has a plan or because he, like Lambert, is keenly feeling the humiliation of falling prey to the Hunt.

"I'm not looking to get myself killed," Lambert adds, waving a hand before Syrlya can protest. "I'm just saying..." How to put it.

"The Carnival doesn't exist, right now. This isn't going to work unless we can get people to listen and play along, and why would they?"

[chronosynthesis]

"Oh--no." Syrlya holds his finger up, expression souring. "I will not hear that. You are the Nightrider. Just like every other Supervisor, what you say and do has sway. Just because we are missing the Ringmaster does not mean people will cease to follow you if you have a plan. This is not the first trial we have experienced, nor the first we had to lead of our own accord."

He can completely understand feeling defeated. But from their leaders--that's bad. "You are going to be their hope, and if you give up on our unity then so will everyone else. The Pact was destroyed as well, but we pulled it together."

A pause. "And anything Strange says does not count, because he doesn't listen to anyone but himself anyway!"

[whattaprick]

It's a nice and moving speech, really, but Lambert's expression gets more gently pinched as he goes on. Why does Syrlya sound particularly mad about Strange?

"Syrlya," Lambert begins. "From what you told me, the Pact was a bunch of people who all knew what they were getting into. The last time I had a plan it ended up in me getting someone else caught up in the Hunt and killing her because I couldn't think of a better way to stop her from eating a spa worker."

Guilt is a pretty unfamiliar expression on Lambert's face, but here it is. Still, he goes on, more determined--

"If there's someone you want for plans ... get Childermass up there." He got the Rose, he helped get to the Mirror, his track record is a hell of a lot better than Lambert's and he's not the one who keeps fucking up.

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya is always mad about Strange lately.

He can recognize guilt, though, because it's something he's worn on his heart--something he still does. Especially when others have suffered and died in what could have been his place, or because of his decisions.

He lets out a faint sigh, haphazardly dropping the hoe before he moves to put both his hands firmly on Lambert's shoulders.

"Lambert," he echoes. "I spoke to him before. The weight is just as heavy. What we have is being able to cooperate and if we let them break that unity, we really will be doing this alone."

This is honestly a much more raw conversation than they've had, that wasn't about getting Syrlya drunk. But he's also not a stranger to holding up his commanding officer, and he offers Lambert a smile. "I'm here with you, with both of you, but we cannot do this together if you allow yourself to slip. It takes one trial and some farming to keep our status where it is. That's all, and then we can focus on getting the carnival out of here."

[whattaprick]

Probably because, like the rest of Strange's platonic harem, Syr's found out what a terrible two-timing irresponsible jerk he actually is.

Lambert wasn't expecting the contact, that much is obvious from the way he startles under Syrlya's touch. He grimaces -- if Syrlya feels the need to physically reassure him, he must be looking and sounding rougher than he thought -- and offers a much more wry smile back.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning on lying down and giving up," he says, wryly, then more seriously-- "I'm just trying to be realistic. I'll take the next trial I can qualify for, so long as someone doesn't beat me to it." The farming, though ... he thinks he might be a little late to make up for that, but doesn't say so.

[chronosynthesis]

"Good." There's a bit of relief in him for that, and he draws his hands back. "I have been keeping an eye on the board for the same reason, so if I find something first I will let you know."

Or, he would if that trial wasn't happening while Syrlya was dragged off on a different one. It's the thought that counts.

"Have you found anything of interest to our no longer being here?"

[whattaprick]

“Sort of.” Lambert pitches his voice lower. “Rita says whatever trial she went through, when they were asking for anyone who contracted with Ignatius — she could feel him. He’s alive, somewhere in this floating rock. They were trying to get him to use his will on those that contracted with him... but he refused.”

[chronosynthesis]

"I'm not surprised. The Mother of Invention seemed far too interested in having him to have him killed so quickly."

He makes a mental note to talk to Rita when he can. The sooner they pile together their information, the better. "Anything is a start. As soon as I learn something of use, I shall find you."

[whattaprick]

“I’m still not sure how much help I’ll be,” Lambert admits, frowning and flexing his fingers. “The Huntsman turned me over to her, along with everyone else who didnt have a chance to sign up for Ignatius’s protection. And we don’t know how high off the ground we are. Any plan that has to do with getting off this rock needs to think about that.”

[chronosynthesis]

"They must have some way of entering and leaving this place... finding and using that would be my first idea."

A pause. "Which if course means it won't be easy. We need some way out of this farm so we can get a proper understanding of where we are..."

[whattaprick]

“Right,” Lambert nods, frowning. Looking at Syrlya, he has some ideas for transport, at least.

“Have you learned anything about the Mother of Invention since we got here? Do we even know if she is here?” She hadn’t, after all, been there in person when they’d all been caught up. Who’s to say she’s even here now?

[chronosynthesis]

Syrlya shakes his head. "Only what Strange told me about what he already knew. Regardless of she's here physically, though, I wouldn't believe she would keep another Fae here without any way to watch him directly."

[whattaprick]

“She seemed too interested in him not to be hands-on,” Lambert says in turn, crossing his arms. “But I’ve only ever seen what happens when Fae imprison mortals. Not other Fae.”

With one notable exception, and he adds with a snort— “The Ringmaster doesn’t count. I don’t think how she handled Ignatius is how these things usually go.”