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limacharlie2017-11-17 04:50 pm
motivenotfound) wrote in limacharlie2017-11-17 04:50 pm
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[Day 5 : Public Channel ]
This is Peridot: Your engineer and number-one gem speaking, interrupting your usual afternoon radio chatter with an urgent matter of utmost importance. SO LISTEN UP!
[She’ll pause briefly to give people more time to actually turn their radios up and listen properly, because she is actually dedicated to making sure that the whole carnival is on the same page with this.]
A-hem. Thank you. Now as some of you may already know, a small group of dedicated carnival members-- including yours truly—have been coordinating an effort to try and create a possible antidote to the venom of a certain detestable fae. You know the one. The clod that we were all EXTREMELY glad to see get his comeuppance at the hands of our great and wonderful Ringmaster.
Anyway. The Prince may be gone now, but unfortunately, his cruddy venom is still affecting a large percentage of the carnival staff. Worse yet-- through no fault of any of its founding members-- the original antidote team has made very little progress on manufacturing a cure. [Muttering:] Personally, I blame the fact that most of the people who would have been better suited to this work were also counted among those that were missing, but I digress! We did what we could with what we had, okay?!
[Mari is only kind of interrupting this time, but she’s a little more forceful than usual--and a little more animated than this really warrants. She’s just excited about having a new project.]
We've identified the basic problem: that the venom is affecting the soul of its victims and not just their bodies. Physical cures alone aren't going to cut it. We're gonna need magic, medicine, and metaphysical prowess, especially when it comes to souls and soul energy.
And while we can't make you do anything, not helping would be kind of an asshole thing to do right now.
The kind of asshole thing we’ll definitely remember.
[Somewhere off in the background, you can hear Peridot muttering:] Nyeh?
[Promise, threat, same thing.]
The good news is, we do have a new doctor to introduce! He's kind of our only doctor, really. But no one's died under his care yet, sooooo that's probably a good sign.
...take it away, doctor.
[There is a pause because Herbert is giving Mari an incredibly unimpressed look. But, like, fair, he guesses.]
My name is Herbert West, this… carnival’s new medic and as someone previously held captive by this ‘Prince’ I’ve only recently had the opportunity to begin my research into this unique affliction. I have education and previous experience in various forms of medicine and chemistry, especially in regards to specific aspects of pathology—however, I have never encountered… [He’s so reluctant. He is the MOST reluctant.] …what is referred to here as magic. Therefore, any help from those knowledgeable in that particular field and how it might interact with biomedical science, as well as any individuals who may have encountered artificially induced fossilisation in any form previously would be ideal.
Additionally, if you have been affected by the venom and you have yet to visit the medical tent I must insist you do so as soon as possible! My--our development of the cure depends upon data, and we cannot be aware of all the variables without access to each patient. As long as everyone cooperates we should be able to solve this in fairly short order.
Right, so. There you have it. We’ll turn the ‘floor’ over to the other workers who will be heading up some of the other research teams now, but the bottom line here is: We’re all gonna work together, come up with a cure to fix everyone, and it’s GONNA BE GREAT!
[She’ll pause briefly to give people more time to actually turn their radios up and listen properly, because she is actually dedicated to making sure that the whole carnival is on the same page with this.]
A-hem. Thank you. Now as some of you may already know, a small group of dedicated carnival members-- including yours truly—have been coordinating an effort to try and create a possible antidote to the venom of a certain detestable fae. You know the one. The clod that we were all EXTREMELY glad to see get his comeuppance at the hands of our great and wonderful Ringmaster.
Anyway. The Prince may be gone now, but unfortunately, his cruddy venom is still affecting a large percentage of the carnival staff. Worse yet-- through no fault of any of its founding members-- the original antidote team has made very little progress on manufacturing a cure. [Muttering:] Personally, I blame the fact that most of the people who would have been better suited to this work were also counted among those that were missing, but I digress! We did what we could with what we had, okay?!
[Mari is only kind of interrupting this time, but she’s a little more forceful than usual--and a little more animated than this really warrants. She’s just excited about having a new project.]
We've identified the basic problem: that the venom is affecting the soul of its victims and not just their bodies. Physical cures alone aren't going to cut it. We're gonna need magic, medicine, and metaphysical prowess, especially when it comes to souls and soul energy.
And while we can't make you do anything, not helping would be kind of an asshole thing to do right now.
The kind of asshole thing we’ll definitely remember.
[Somewhere off in the background, you can hear Peridot muttering:] Nyeh?
[Promise, threat, same thing.]
The good news is, we do have a new doctor to introduce! He's kind of our only doctor, really. But no one's died under his care yet, sooooo that's probably a good sign.
...take it away, doctor.
[There is a pause because Herbert is giving Mari an incredibly unimpressed look. But, like, fair, he guesses.]
My name is Herbert West, this… carnival’s new medic and as someone previously held captive by this ‘Prince’ I’ve only recently had the opportunity to begin my research into this unique affliction. I have education and previous experience in various forms of medicine and chemistry, especially in regards to specific aspects of pathology—however, I have never encountered… [He’s so reluctant. He is the MOST reluctant.] …what is referred to here as magic. Therefore, any help from those knowledgeable in that particular field and how it might interact with biomedical science, as well as any individuals who may have encountered artificially induced fossilisation in any form previously would be ideal.
Additionally, if you have been affected by the venom and you have yet to visit the medical tent I must insist you do so as soon as possible! My--our development of the cure depends upon data, and we cannot be aware of all the variables without access to each patient. As long as everyone cooperates we should be able to solve this in fairly short order.
Right, so. There you have it. We’ll turn the ‘floor’ over to the other workers who will be heading up some of the other research teams now, but the bottom line here is: We’re all gonna work together, come up with a cure to fix everyone, and it’s GONNA BE GREAT!
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Jesus Christ! [ and then there's a pause before oh, wait Foster said something. ]
Well, if you wish. [ Strange, entirely unaware of 75% of whatever Foster Drama is happening at the time, continues talking. ] I know you've your necromancy, but do you have any other disciplines you're particularly skilled at?
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[Bluntly. If it's not dead, there's nothing he can do with it.]
But--but I am infected. With... the disease.
[The one you're actually talking about, that is. He is still infected with that other disease, the one in his brain, but that's less pertinent.]
So use me.
[His eyes are feverishly bright, and there's an overintensity of aggression, but--]
If that isn't enough--
[Disparaging.]
I do have traps set in the barn.
[He turns his head away, regards Strange sideways. Begrudgingly offering his necromancy in lieu of himself.]
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[ His tone is very much DUH, FOSTER, of course you're infected. This lingers for just a moment before Strange continues talking about other ways that Foster could help out. ]
Obviously we wouldn't want to first test any cures on one of us. I think the Ringmaster would be quite put out if some of her staff was murdered in an attempt to heal them. But if you could find any mice or birds or something like that, we'd have eternal test subjects!
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Distracting Foster with a Job is not the worst way to deal with him, honestly.
But it doesn't occur to him to explain to Strange that anything has changed since the last time they talked about necromancy, which was literally months ago. So it's a good thing his question is ambiguous as hell.]
How... big?
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[ and thus TERRIFYING NECROMANTIC HELLBEASTS are made for test subjects. ]
no subject
BECAUSE NOW HE IS DEFINITELY GOING TO BRING YOU UNDEAD MAN-SIZED RATS.
And he does literally bring them to Strange, by the way, a few hours later. Three of them. He just sits on the steps of Strange's trailer, flanked by a trio of 150 pound rats.
He's smiling.]
no subject
On the one hand, this is technically what he asked for. On the other hand, what the ever loving fuck, Foster.
Strange just pauses. And stares. And doesn't really know what to do about this because he doesn't know how animals work but he knows they're not supposed to be that big. He stares at the rats intently for a moment and those are certainly rats that somehow are messed up via Foster's necromancy, he can tell that much, thanks Third Eye. Pity he's got no idea how those rats are messed up. But he's been staring at the terror rats for a good thirty seconds or so and needs to say something besides "good god, I need a drink." ]
Can you make them smaller? [ And then, before Foster can say anything, ] I do appreciate them, of course, they're very...large, but we haven't even the start of a cure to test these things on. We'll certainly need them once we've a few test batches of the cure, but as it is, they're— [ terrifying ] —simply taking up some space.
[ and truth be told, he didn't think Foster could do this in the first place. ]
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As it is, Foster shrugs dismissively, still smiling.]
I can just regrave them and raise replacements. There's no shortage of them, really.
... but I've also kept a couple alive. I had a question for you about that.
[One of the rats sniff the air in Strange's direction; another one grooms blood out of its fur.
It's not like they need to eat, Strange. Or any care at all.
He can just park them behind the trailers, it's fine.]
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[ Ginko's gonna hate him. Though, Foster said he had a question! So, Strange turns to look at Foster while trying to ignore the beady little eyes of these awful hellbeasts and their beady little eyes, what the fuck Foster, he didn't know you could actually do this, why does that one have bloody fur?! ]
But go ahead and ask your question.
TW: undead animal is re-murdered
[Foster gets up, pulling a knife out of his back pocket with an easy, reassuring smile--
And with a backhanded motion, he stabs the nearest rat with it, burying the blade up to the hilt.
The rat crumples, hitting the ground like a sack of wet cement as Foster pulls the blade back out.
Drops of red spatter the earth in front of Strange's trailer. There was definitely still blood in there.
Sensitivity to souls or magic will inform Strange that the necromanctic power holding the rat and its soul together is gone. Just. Fucking gone.
He steps to the next rat, which visibly does not care about what just happened to its comrade.]
no subject
If you're going to murder them, at least murder them away from my doorstep! Perhaps in the back or a field or something like that but not here!
[ There's a pause, before, ]
Let me take care of the rats, if you wish.
no subject
[Foster is significantly more confused about Strange's use of the word 'murder' than almost any other part of this exchange. The 'almost' is because 'let me take care of the rats, if you wish' is a two-part puzzle that starts with 'let me take care of the rats,' and ends with 'if you wish,' like Foster's wishes have anything to do with any part of this conversation.]
Oh, my question--
[He switches trains of thought abruptly, gesturing widely with the knife still in hand.]
It didn't occur to me, before--normally any damage or disease to the body becomes irrelevant in undeath, but since I can make any changes I want in the process.... it's a... a disease, right? Hosted in the soul?
[He's just double checking, before he says something stupid.
Ha ha ha. A disease hosted in the soul...
How... relatable.
Well. Except he is also literally infected with it. So, anyway--]
no subject
[ It's all semantics in Strange's mind. If you're going to make them stop moving, don't do it where he gets blood on his shoes. But, Foster has another question, so it's time to answer that. ]
To the best of my knowledge, it is. [ Strange explains, with a little nod. ] I've no way of telling how the magic affects things like the soul, but others with more experience in those matters have confirmed it.
[ He's not Rita. Strange's knowledge of most things magical boils down to 'what can I throw at it to make it work' and any concept of the soul is something he's just come to realize exists since coming to the carnival. ]
no subject
Here. You'll need this.
If that's what you want, that is.
[He turns the knife in his hairy paw and thrusts it at Strange with the blade pointed back at himself. He will stare at Strange until he takes the knife--or verbally declines it. ]
no subject
[ And he quickly ducks into the trailer to grab his atlantean knife. ]
no subject
But Foster has no time to protest. He just lets his arm fall back to his side, waiting for the magician to re-emerge.
He glances back at the oozing slit in the side of the one regraven rat. It's not even in a fatal location. It's just sort of between some ribs... where even is a rat's heart? He has no idea.
Well, maybe Strange's knife has some magical property he doesn't know about. It's not his place to question it.]
no subject
And hmm. How to lead them elsewhere. ]
Did you just...lead them here?
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[Foster does not nearly remember the Merket well enough to recognise that blade. Most of what he remembers about Atlantis, besides how much he liked the feeling of being underwater, is not polite conversation.
He studies the blade, then Strange, with equal willingness.]
Where do you want them to go?
cw: blood, those poor rats getting stabbed
[ And so, they move the rats away from the trailer. Taking his dagger in his hand, Strange swallows down his disgust, steps in a way that he won't get hit by the blood spray, and slices one of the mutant rats across the throat.
The rat just kind of gurgles a bit and stares at Strange, blinking at him with beady rat eyes. This thing isn't dead. There's a pause before Strange slices the throat again, digging further into the throat muscle but nope, the rat just makes a disgusting gurgling sort of noise, looking around at everybody like 'hey, what's up, this is real weird you know.'
And once again, Strange just stares. Well shit. What the heck should he do now? ]
TW: more blood, stabbed undead rats
Strange is definitely making a mess.
Foster just appears... nonplussed.]
Haha. Wow.
I guess that's just a knife after all.
[He sounds vaguely disappointed, but offers Strange his knife again.]
Use this.
this thread is just gonna be the nasty guts rat party, look away if ya sensitive
Strange just takes the knife from Foster and attempts to slit the bleeding one's throat again. Finally, it dies. He just kind of looks at the bleeding rat corpse and the fact that he has two bloody knives and that his shoes are ruined, this is what he wanted to avoid in the first place!
There's a moment of quiet before as calmly as possible, Strange asks, ]
Out of curiosity, what are the specifics for killing something you brought back to life?
Yeah, just...... sorry, guys. Also TW: thoughts on being stabbed
[Foster says this somewhat reproachfully--but wastes no time with a brisk followup explanation.
He's not at all opposed to experiencing Strange's temper, but he was and still kind of is trying to be of function. Of use.
But Strange is standing there, holding two knives and covered in blood, and it's hard not to think about the alternative. If only the two were more easily combined. If only others were less unwilling...!]
That's the blade used to raise them. It's the only.... mmmm.
[The final rat has begun to clean its face and whiskers. It stops briefly to regard Strange with its dark eyes, then resumes.]
It's the only easy way.
let's just make this even worse then
Willing up as much courage as he can, Strange swallows his disgust, leans in towards the last rat, slits it's throat...and misjudges the artery as dead necrotic rat blood comes spewing out of the creature's neck landing right on his face and in his hair.
Add in the fact that his hair is usually in a state of 'semi-wild' and 'rarely brushed' and he's looking a bit like the guy who shows up at the end of a horror movie right about now.
Strange just looks down from the dead rats, to his blood-covered shoes, to his blood covered hands. How could this situation have gone so terribly so quickly. Without saying a word, he just offers Foster his knife back. Normally, he'd press Foster for more details about the specifics of necromancy but right now he's just covered in rat blood and has a few corpses at his feet. Please take that knife back. Let's just not talk about this right now. ]
no subject
[Foster points this out after the final rat is regraved. There's nothing 'wrong' with it, from his perspective, except there was plenty of room for Strange to do that without soaking himself in stagnating rat blood. But he has, and that's kind of Strange's problem, isn't it.
He doesn't take Strange's cue for the knife at all, except to say:]
Oh, that's not mine. It's the kitchen's.
no subject
Though now he's standing in front of his trailer with a few bigass rat corpses. Hmm. There's a chance he didn't think this through. ]
Should I, ah, bury the corpses?
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