PUBLIC CHANNEL - DAY 157

[whattaprick]

Nightrider Lambert here. In case you haven't heard by now: the things on Kerner Island eat settled daemons. So find somewhere else to take a daytrip. If you go anyway, do me a favor and keep your radio on you. That way we can all hear what it sounds like when a soul gets eaten.

[ He's about to leave it on that cheerfully sarcastic note, but then the faint sound of a female voice chimes in, scolding. For those who've met her, they'll recognize it as Lambert's daemon, the golden-eyed polecat that wears a hawk's shape outside the carnival. ]

Lambert! You didn't have to say it like that!

[ It doesn't seem to shame him one bit, though, since Lambert's going to keep right on talking: ]

For those of you whose daemon hasn't settled yet, that doesn't mean you get to be an idiot about going out there. Slipping and breaking your neck would be a stupid way to die. That said, if you're interested in doing some nightrunner work--

Come find us! [ The daemon interrupts again, louder this time, and there's a brief sound of a scuffle before her voice finally comes through loud and clear. Now it's Lambert who sounds more distant (and distinctly annoyed), though she talks right over him. ] We've got a map and other things you can use!

[ ooc: Lambert and his daemon will both be replying to his post (and probably fighting over the radio button, honestly). For ease of clarity, her responses will be in italics! ]

Comments

[chronosynthesis]

I assumed that if they could, they would already be flying over the water... But perhaps they aren't bright creatures.

Are we only assessing danger right now, or are you looking for something?

[whattaprick]

Bit of both, really. Locals say there's plants and animals on that island you can't find anywhere else, stuff that's come from other worlds.

And I'm interested in the facility they make the doors with and what shape it's actually in. It's been there for more than four decades with nothing but a bunch of kids. Depending on how fast things grow, it's gotta be a ruin now. What's keeping it running?

I'm less worried about Spectres tagging along unless someone figures out where to get a knife. [ THIS IS A CALLOUT POST FOR JONATHAN STRANGE ]

[chronosynthesis]

Magic? [Is that a genuine of facetious answer.] Hm. So don't bring any knives back.

The daemon that has been trailing me can fly, so if it proves secure I should have no trouble navigating the island as well.

[whattaprick]

[ Ugh. His daemon can fly, too ... but the issue is, it's not too far. ]

So you're thinking of having it stay up there like ... what, a kite?

[chronosynthesis]

With less string. [But basically, yes.] I'm sure it knows not to get itself killed.

[Just talking about his daemon like it isn't even here, because that's coping.]

[whattaprick]

[ Someone who isn't immediately all cuddles with their soul torn out of their body? Now that's a new one. ]

You should hope so.

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya is about to respond with some sort of acknowledgement and farewell--but it's cut off with the sound of beating wings and what becomes distant hollering from Syrlya.

The radio clatters against something solid for a moment before it stops and a lower voice comes through instead.]

Don't worry. I don't have a death wish.

[whattaprick]

[ And surprising no one, it's Lambert's daemon that pipes up in return, apparently super pleased to hear another daemon giving their human shit-- ]

Good! I don't think we'd like losing another nightrunner over something stupid like getting themselves eaten.

[chronosynthesis]

Another? What did the first-- [This time it's the owl squawking indignantly as Syrlya tries to shove it away.]

Stupid bird--speak up without grabbing it!

[A pause.] I have no intention of adding to our mortality numbers... but I hope given our numbers they are not high to begin with.

[whattaprick]

Surprisingly, we haven't had any casualties yet. Though people have left before.

The last Nightrider got turned into a vampire and decided to start her own army. Or something like that.

[chronosynthesis]

She... hm. [That's not what he expected to hear.] I suppose that is where you stepped in?

[whattaprick]

Not immediately after, but yeah. I'd only been in the Carnival for a few weeks when the Ringmaster asked me if I'd take up the job.

[ Does that sound bad? Prrrobably. ]

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya went through a similarly sudden rise of power, so he can't say much there. Hopefully Lambert's up to the task--it's probably less arduous than an actual army.]

Do you care for it? Being the Nightrider.

[whattaprick]

What's not to like? I've got my own trailer and I don't have to stand hip-deep in mud waiting for monsters to come out ... most of the time.

[ Low standards, thy name is Lambert. ]