[ So after this, promptly followed by a visit to the Ringmaster, Childermass will be turning his radio back on and, unshockingly, delivering a vague and potentially unsettling request. ]

This is Childermass. [ Like anyone doesn't recognize an English accent that's been gargling gravel by now. ] I would like all of us to keep an eye out for Summer Court activity in our upcoming stops. The letter I received from the Summerlands makes me think they might make a play for the Blue Rose.

Goood eeeevening, everybody! Junko Enoshima, proud to introduce myself! Guess what? I got hired as a tailor in addition to doing makeup, SO, hooray?


[ She briefly switches to a gloomy voice ] A- ah... it's going to be so much hard work, managing both at the same time... am I really the kind of person to stretch myself out?


[ And now, a metal voice. these icons are just for show ]
Hell the FUCK I am! Which is why I'm propositioning all of your asses right now! I was the world's Ultimate Model, I know the ins and outs of every style of fashion on a regular how-do-you-do Earth to the fantasy worlds we envisioned. I can make ANYTHING. You keep adding to a drawing I make in a little notepad for your request and I can DO IT.


Of course, I will bleed you dry for this service. My talents belong to the carnival itself and any necessary work I am to do. To use its materials frivolously would be against the rules, especially if I were to make you a nice outfit with fabric ordered for a costume.

As a new arrival, there is not much I have that some of you who've stayed longer have. I will barter for goods primarily, and information if you have something big to tell me.


Anyone who tries to cheat me gets an ultra-punishment! Bye-!

[ set on whatever channel they've got set up that's just "people who aren't kidnapped"

holy shit guys, it's a plot infodump. The radio clicks on to Strange, who sounds very tired, possibly because the amount of sleep he's gotten over the past week is somewhere in the vicinity of jack-shit. ]

For all our new employees, welcome to the carnival. You were rescued from the manor of a fae known as "the Prince." He has previously kidnapped some of our number and warped their minds so they believe they serve him. Some have been rescued, some are still imprisoned alongside more of your fellow employees.

Previously, we were expected to simply behave and play along as he and the Ringmaster attempted negotiations. The reason why he's changed his strategy so quickly is that some of our number managed to steal an important artifact of the Prince's. I believe he still has some of the artifact's power stored in a battery of some kind, but I'm afraid I don't know the specifics. [ fill us in on that, Childerteam + Rooftop Adventure, Strange was under a magical mindwhammy for that part of the plot ]

Along with warping their minds, the Prince has poisonous magic of some sort. He also has transfiguration magic: some of the animals from the Hunt were servants and some of the animals prowling the islands are undoubtedly servants as well. Most worryingly, he has the power to take someone's true name—something which we believe happened to Papyrus's brother. Taking a true name essentially robs someone of their identity, their very essence of self. [ though the words are clinical, Strange's tone relays the fact that this is Bad News. ] We don't know of any way to retrieve one's true name except from the Prince himself.

The remaining members of the carnival are held prisoner inside the Prince's fortress. There's some sort of ward around the fortress that blocks radio communication and, most annoyingly, my scrying. There aren't any specific entrances to the fortress itself. It is alive as well, and can respond to the servants. Likewise, the Prince is an earth elemental which means that he's strongest at this sort of defensive outlasting.

[ and then Strange finally takes a breath and takes a sip of water. ]

I think it's obvious that charging at the castle head-first and recklessly won't work. We need a plan and we need to come up with one quickly. The Ringmaster suggested the idea of a challenge, challenging the Prince with a game that he thinks he can win though we know we can win. Alternatively, we did manage to rescue most of our number in Hell through a stealth operation. Something like that could be attempted again. [ yeah, that's right, they went to hell, sorry to drop THAT bombshell on you, newbies. ] I don't think I need to tell you how risky either of those options are but if you have any suggestions, now is the time to tell us.

( ooc: feel free to use this post for threadjacking/brainstorming/asking questions/catching your characters up on the plot/whatever! )

[ Lambert's out of better ideas. With the Warden (probably) in the Prince's hands, even if it risks panicking his more easily riled colleagues, who will almost certainly notice Sans missing at breakfast ... he doesn't have a choice.

By the time this message comes on the radio, there's only about ten minutes until they have to be harried off to breakfast, and that's pushing it. Nonetheless, he's got to make an effort: ]

Hey. I need a second opinion on this outfit. Can you come by my room?

[ However, he won't be replying on the supervisor channel even if he's questioned. Take a hint, guys! ]

[ Roughly around five in the morning, the supervisor-only channel will crackle to life with Childermass's consistently bored-sounding voice, even in the face of this particular news— ]

Tyki Mikk is missing. He failed to report back in earlier this morning and isn't in his assigned room. I've yet to check the rest of them, but I can if need be.

[ Although Zecora may have known even before now, depending on whether or not she's a light enough sleeper to know when her roommate is shadow-stepping in and out of the place. ]

[Sans is blue.]
[Lambert is dark red.]

( [ Supervisors’ Channel ] )

[ Public Channel ]

[ Lambert’s voice is terse, and irritable: ]

Our next stop’s called Heartstone Manor. We’re going to go over some ground rules to make everyone's life, especially mine, a lot easier.

[Sans is also here.]

The RM has already covered a lot of this in her announcement, but it is officially our jobs to make sure that it sinks in. Dealt with True Fae before? Then you know this isn’t a joke. Yes, your fashion sense and table etiquette are now a matter of life and death. This is me, Sans, telling you to take this seriously. Hopefully that means something to you.

To summarize the gist of what was said, here are some basic RULES. The Nightrider and I will be watching. So, even if the Prince doesn’t catch you, we will.

[Sans recites “The Rules” like he’s just whipped out a pair of reading glasses and is quoting them from an official document:]

DO:

• Follow the daily schedule
• Follow dress code
• Be polite to The Prince and his servants
• Keep your radio on you

DON’T:

• Whine about everything
• Seed rebellion or talk about rules breaking on the network
• Make any deals or promises to other fae servants
• Lay any hard disses on The Prince, ever, under any circumstances
• Don’t sweat the small stuff: this is gunna grate on a lot of us, so just focus on the end goal… which is not dying

Don’t mess it up.

That, too.

[Scout is not entirely sure how to address the carnival like this, so there's a self-conscious sense to her voice.]

They're breeding, so we should probably get this done. If you brought an animal home from Alola, come share what it is so we know if there's any likelihood of it pairing off. Pokemon aren't speciated like normal animals. There are these broad categories they fit into where they can interbreed. This will result in an egg that will be like its mother, not a hybrid or something new.

I'm Scout, I have a togetic named Thranta. She'd be in two breeding groups, "flying" and "fairy", so she's compatible with anything in either of those if the sexes match. Right now I don't think she's that interested, but if I let her progress into her next instar maybe that'd change?

I can't tell you don't go out and encourage them, but you really should be careful and consider if you can handle a second or third animal. This isn't Alola and you can't just release them if you're tired of them.

If there are any supervisors still awake and standing, would you please make your way to the Big Top? The Ringmaster appears to have died.

[ —and turned into an egg, which is something he should really include, but he's tired. Sounds it, too, although what he isn't sounding on top of that is worried, since this is all said in a very matter-of-fact way. ]

[This message will go out about fifteen minutes after arriving in the carnival, while everyone is still waking up and recovering. The Ringmaster sounds far more subdued than normal - like maybe she's tired, or sick, or perhaps just sad.]

That... wasn't what I expected to happen.

[There is a long pause, and then she sighs.]

I imagine you all have some questions. I don't have time to address all of them now, but I can attempt the most important one. Who you were there isn't who you are now. It isn't a creature entirely separate from you, either. They are a reflection of your identity - they are who you could be. Who you could have been. The reality of circumstance and choice is too complex to figure out all the factors that changed you, but in the end, it doesn't really matter.

Use these memories to guide you, not to demean you. Allow them to inform your future, but not rule it. You are, as ever, all of what you choose to be.


Please be polite to our hosts. She didn't know know I was coming. Bye for now.

Listen.

[The voice that comes over the public channel is... odd, and new to most folks here. He pauses for a bit, as if that's the entire thought-- but, sure enough, he follows it with an obviously annoyed question.]

So we're just kind of... here, because they say so? Like... this can't be legal, can it? Has anybody tried talking to the fuckin' police about this?

[As he speaks, he gets increasingly irritated, his voice breaking.]

I'm gonna be real with you guys: I've got half a mind to just kinda magic my way out, except I'm pretty sure the Ringleader or whatever would come after me. Is that a thing?