welcome_rpg | welcome to mayfield: day 4

[This carnival seems to be getting less and less maintained by the day. Your nerves aren't the only thing fallen apart: what were previously holes in the sky have expanded to cracks. What parts of the sky that haven't fallen into that strange, warping nothingness are full of brown smog-like clouds.

The carnival itself has become filthy, with trash and grease spots littered everywhere. The walls of the tents, wooden stands, and houses seem to be slightly melted, for lack of a better term. The holes of corrupted nothingness aren't confined to the sky anymore: pockets of nothing litter the carnival, shifting tears in the fabric of reality that hurt your eyes to look at.

A faint buzzing noise fills the air, making it difficult to concentrate. If you listen long enough, it starts to sound like voices. For your own sake, it's probably best not to listen to what they have to say.

You're also not alone here anymore, for those of you operating under the assumption that you ever really were. If you've been missing the friendly drones of Mayfield, fear no more, because scattered throughout the carnival are a few drone families seeing the sights, riding the rides and playing the games. Curiously, unlike the drones back home, these ones don't seem to notice you at all, acting as if you're not even there.

Also curiously: their features are warped nearly beyond recognition. Some are missing limbs or facial features; others appear to have had those features scrambled by Picasso's paintbrush, with mouths on their scalps or teeth on their fingers. Still other drones appear to be fused together at the wrist, or waist, or face. None of them seem to be any more aware of their deformity than they are of you.

...and yet, somehow, you can't shake the feeling that when you're not looking at them, they're looking at you.

New here? That's alright; your missing friends have had plenty of time to get acquainted, and they'll be happy to show you around. Just watch your step, because some of these old rides need some maintenance...]

OOC: If your character damages or affects the carnival or town in a noticeable and normally permanent way, please comment here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He tried to move away, but he was in all honesty, too weak at the moment. If he were to rest a bit, he'd muster up the energy to stand and start walking again. He was used to pushing his body to its limits.]

I've lost track of th' days already...

[This he can help with.]

According to people I've talked to, no one seems to have been here earlier than three days ago. This is the fourth day. I've been here since yesterday, when we met.

[Snip, snip, snip. Looks at leg.]

Mercy me! You have done a job on yourself, haven't you?

Between taking only naps, I lost track of time...

[His leg is showing some heavy bruising. He leapt from the ferris wheel as it was going and landed poorly. He forgot that his depth perception would've been affected by seeing only out of one eye. After all, he was too busy concentrating on getting off the ride to think that far ahead.]

[Tut-tut-cluck-cluck-fuss-fuss. He's such an old hen sometimes.XD]

Well. It could have been worse, I suppose.

[Examines closely.]

No open wounds, so infection's unlikely.

[He fishes in his pockets and finds yet another little supply of medications.]

Only aspirin, I'm afraid. I'm still trying to get back all my skills in Mayfield. I have some more potent painkillers, but none are half as efficient at reducing swelling.

You'll have to take them dry.

Has anyone found anything better than rat juice to drink? Or set up a distillery so we can have fresh water? That's got to be next on the list, if we remain here for much longer.

Not sure if anyone's actually tried settin' somethin' like that up... makes a person wonder if it'd work...

I... I can't get myself t' eat... rat... but I'm thinkin' I'm not gonna have much of a choice...

No. I'm afraid the other options are unthinkable. Or lethal. Or both.

This is a variation on Mayfield. Distillation may not work. Those who create this place do not pay attention to artistic unity, they just slap whatever obnoxious bit of torment they like in place. Reality is substantially better run.

But there's at least a chance the powers behind Mayfield have respected the grand design of Science(!).

[That last word is said with a bit of fancy-font and a silent but implied exclamation point. Science(!) is rather a big thing where Tarvek comes from.]

Reality... Science... hmm...

[He blinks and suddenly starts trying to sit up.]

Wait... That 501 house, th' one that keeps doing th' most damage t' others... I wanted t' try it earlier but decided against it...

[Well, he's succeeded in sitting, but that's as far as he can manage for now.]

[Tarvek has only been here a day, much of it spent looking for Ilsa. He doesn't know what Hol's talking about. But he's an information hound and a data addict.]

Explain, please.

[It's technically a request. But it's a request wearing brass knuckles and swinging a heavy chain in lazy loops.]

When I got here, it was locked off t' th' rest of th' town... and on the second day... it more or less opened itself by the windows...

Had some adventurous people go in... 'nd some didn't... come back out...

Some escaped... but if there's somethin' in there that we're not supposed t' see... I... had an idea...

[Oh. Oh, dear. Tarvek's come from a world where those words are the reliable prelude to disaster. Sort of like, "Hey, Bubba, watch this!" in our world. But...he's listening. He's also contemplating fast exists and ways to render Hol suddenly unconscious, whichever seems most appropriate.]

Yesssssss?

Was thinkin' of usin' my Stand...

[Oh dear, Stands... and their ability to break the laws of physics...]

I think you might want to unpack that a little, sir.

Actually, I think you might want to unpack that a lot. Explain?

[Brass knuckles. Swinging chain. If Tarvek's going to get himself killed he usually wants it to be something he made a reasonable effort to avoid.]

It's hard t' explain what ya can't see... but my Stand's been with me fer as long as I can remember...

Most of the others had fancy ones that resembled humans... mine's jes in th' form of a revolver... point is, I control the path of the bullets that the gun fires.

[Oh, now that interests him!]

Reeeaaaally?

[You almost lose him as he starts to fugue into Spark state, trying to figure out how to do that... But he's among the most controlled of his kind. He reins himself in.]

Interesting. And this will help us get in and survive, how?

... I can see possible dangers before they happen...

[He was interrupted by a coughing fit. Years of smoking does that.]

... t' put it mildly...

[Hol is so lucky he's dealing with the Spark who loves Ilsa. Between one thing and another he's not going to laugh at that idea.]

And you didn't predict growing old in a fog?

Or "falling?"

Or having your eyes stabbed?

[If he's going to trust his life to this talent, he wants to know more.]

How much can you see, how accurate is it, and how much lead time do you get?

Edited 2012-07-06 05:51 (UTC)

I... can only see these things...

... if I have the Stand already summoned...

I can't always have it drawn out unless I'm prepared... as fer how much time I have to react...?

Once the bullets are out, the reaction time is... however fast bullets travel... guess I never bothered findin' that out...

Edited 2012-07-06 06:04 (UTC)

welcome to mayfield: day 4

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You'll have to tell me the extent of Hol's injury.

: D

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Oh, this is probably my last post tonight. It's getting late.

c: