Character Carnival

The greenhouse was bigger than Mary thought it would. Even though it was about fifteen feet long and twenty feet wide, the glass ceiling extended up three floors. There were tiny cracks in here and there, where water dripped through. The vines had overtaken the garden, strangling most of the flowers. It was a sad sight.

However, there was a patch of purple flowers near the back of the greenhouse.

"So, what should we do?" Mary asked.

The ghost glowed, but the light didn't burn with intensity, an everlasting beacon. Instead, it was an ethereal, wispy silver, as if it would melt away at any moment.

Frederick almost let himself slip into complacency. If the thing looked like it could fall apart on its own, that would certainly end any threat the thing might potentially pose.

Looks, however, weren't just deceiving. Appearances were deceiving to the advantage of the wearer and the disadvantages of fools, and Frederick Dubnikov did not consider himself a fool. That would be why he had a loaded gun in his pocket, with every intention to use it if necessary.

Slowly, the two of them had crept up a stairwell presumably leading to the upper levels of the crumbling structure. The ghost's reaction time had been surprisingly poor. It had barely finished being startled out of its wits before Frederick had his sidearm aimed between its eyes.

"Not so fast," he growled. Lighting was dim, and the only features of the ghost that he could discern were its outline and its glowing, yellow eyes. He suppressed a shiver. If he needed any proof that he was far from home, this was it.

"Please don't hurt me," the ghost said, its voice a small, feminine whisper. "I—I just knit."

Frederick eased his grip on the pistol. "Are you native to this place?"

"I would assume that she is," an unidentified voice said, coming out of the shadows behind the ghost. At his back, Helen tensed. The ghost seemed innocent enough, and if not that, certainly impotent enough. But another human, an armed human whose purpose here was unknown, and whose motives were a mystery?

That was a real threat indeed.

"This is a haunted house, after all." It was a kid's voice. Frederick cursed inwardly. He did not need adolescents involved.

Behind him, the darts in Helen's pocket tinkled against each other slightly. Frederick nodded imperceptibly—she had his back.

Frederick took a step forwards, his eye catching a streak of silvery red on the floor. Tracing the line of blood, he came to the ghost's leg. In the teenager's hand were several darts, and Frederick could put two and two together. He had killed that other thing, and he was about to kill this one. Frederick narrowed his eyes.

Slowly, he lowered his gun, eyes on the teenager's darts, poised and ready to strike. Behind the teenager three other people stood, staring wide-eyed at the scene. "We mean no harm," he began. "We are fellow humans. Please, why don't we put our weapons away and talk nicely?"

edited 13th May '11 8:13:22 PM by Chubert

If you were referring to Elise the ghost girl, she's back with Molly.

Cyrus said nothing to the newcomers as he forced them behind him, his eye never leaving the girl as she held her composure long enough to even pull out the dart.

That was not a good sign.

She examined the tiny dart for a second, turning it around in her hand. "Silver... YOU'RE TRYING TO SLAY ME! PEOPLE LIKE YOU CAN'T EVEN ALLOW US TO FIND A MEAL?! WE DON'T TRY TO SLAY YOU FOR EATING!" As she howled, silver threads shot out of her hands in Cyrus' direction, ensnaring the entire group in a twisted, spaghetti-like matrix. "How could it be so difficult to understand that I'm only trying to survive?!"

The threads retracted towards the ceiling with her prey, towards a massive, tangled web that canvassed the entire ceiling.

In the meantime, Cyrus slashed his way out of the threads in an instant, plummeting onto the stairs. He forced himself back to his feet, grasping the handrail despite his ankle burning with pain, and threw three more darts at once, all hitting her as the pain faded away gradually. She fell back into the wall, but still did not release her prey.

A man kicked down the door of the haunted house, and strode confidently in. He was dressed entirely in white: a white robe, whose edges were embroidered with silver thread. White jackboots, made from the leather of some unearthly animal, with silver laces. White gloves, of the same odd leather. A white hat with a wide brim, decorations of silver thread, and a white veil across the back half. And a white leather belt slung across his shoulder, with a small white leather scabbard on his chest, carrying a crystalline black knife. At his side was a sword in a white scabbard, an elegant steel rapier, its handle painted white. Aside from his dress, however, the man was plain. He was a bit shorter than most men, but not remarkably so, with medium skin, brown eyes, and brown hair cropped in a short, military cut. There seemed to be something about his face that made it hard to remember, something not magical per se, but not ordinary either.

He spotted Cyrus, and glanced at him with mild contempt. Muttering a disdainful remark in his native language, he readied his black knife, letting the spirit get a whiff of its power to unmake. Then he said, in English, with an accent from nowhere on Earth, "I am Damur. You are dropping him, spirit. Or you are going to oblivion. You are choosing now."

I give you Chandler's Law. Also, the silver parts of his clothing are not actual silver — I'm just using it as an adjective for the color and general shininess of his trim.

edited 13th May '11 8:33:24 PM by KillerClowns

Frederick rolled to the side, becoming caught by a stream of webbing in his arm and pinned to the opposite wall. With an irritated growl, Frederick drew his knife with his free hand and sliced himself loose.

"Shoot to kill?" Helen asked, appearing next to him. He nodded.

The teenager was throwing dart after dart at the ghost, preventing it from mounting an effective counterattack. Frederick nodded appreciatively. The boy knew what he was doing, even if he was a bit...abrupt.

Helen palmed the darts in her pocket, and breathed out. With a scream, the glowing yellow eyes of the ghost exploded in showers of blood, with the darts poking out of the now-dim sockets.

In an instant the now-bloodied darts re-appeared in her hand. The ghost began spraying web wildly in her direction, but Helen wasn't there anymore.

Appearing at the ghost's side, Helen slammed her leg into the ghost's head, sending it reeling backwards, and before it could strike back she had teleported back out. Frederick took aim and drilled two bullets into the ghost's chest.

"Under the chandelier!" he shouted to the teenager, who nodded. Darts to the stomach of the ghost made it reel back even further in confused, enraged pain.

Another dart sliced through the already-rusted chain of the chandlier. The ensuing crunch sounded rather painful.

Striding up to the ghost, Frederick put another bullet in its skull, just to be sure.

"Oh, yeah, that thing's dead," he muttered.

He was about to congratulate Helen and the teenager on a job well done before the man dressed in white strode in.

"I am Damur. You are dropping him, spirit. Or you are going to oblivion. You are choosing now."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Frederick said, readying his gun again. Then he paused.

"Wait, spirit?" he asked, confused. "Who are you talking do?"

1. yes, i was ninjaed by killer clown. i'm envisioning that Cyrus et. al. kill the spider-ghost right before Damur walks in. 2. helen can teleport anything to anywhere as long as she has the coordinates of both. frederick can shoot things.

edited 13th May '11 8:42:36 PM by Chubert

"You have done simplifying things," the Damur said. "This is good. I was speaking to another. The one you purged. You move swiftly." He gave a strange salute, holding his hand vertical in front of his nose and then bring it rapidly straight down. Then he explained, "I am Damur — I am one of many. This land's death shall be coming, and the Damur must make it so. The Nameless One is commanding it, and I am obeying. You should be following."

With that, he continued into the greenhouse.

edited 13th May '11 8:45:39 PM by KillerClowns

Anything to get this thread moving again!

Now gone, the massive black widow-esque web vanished, dropping the rest of Cyrus' charge onto the stairs with loud thuds of flesh against wood. As the weird guy spoke, Cyrus finished the exorcism before she could get up, sending her away with his Evil Eye.

What the fuck did this guy think he was doing?

It was just then after the exorcism that he noticed the black-bladed knife, exuding an odd feel like that little shard of obsidian he found.

The Nameless One. Ooh, scary. Follow him?

He waited until the man was safely gone and out of earshot.

"What the fuck was that about?"

A little late to the punch, perhaps?

edited 13th May '11 8:50:10 PM by CrystalGlacia

Valentine rolled her eyes at the newcomer.

"Again? Honestly! Do you all have a quota for busting down doors and creating hostage situations? It's like back in Detroit all over again! And who is this 'Nameless One'? This place is dying now?" She plunged her head into her hands. "I need a drink so bad..."

Remembering the knife in the man's hand, her eyebrow raised. That material that Cyrus picked up? No way, it just looks the same. You can't make knives out of gemstones!

Right?

"You there, what's that weapon made out of? Professional curiosity."

Glancing back at Valentine, the Damur said, "my weapon is made of Nothing." Something about his pronunciation made the capital N was audible. "And the Nameless One is the god that the God Eater could not consume. The end of all things, even those without end. And yes, this place is dying. As all things die."

He finally entered the greenhouse, then, and said, "they will all hear the call soon enough." To Mary he then said, with remarkable casualness, "do you fear death?"

"Beats me," Helen said to the teenager. "Nice aim, by the way. What's your name?"

The teenager eyed her, pausing before answering, "Cyrus."

Frederick was hurrying forwards, as was one of the people that had been with the teenager. The latter was asking something about the material of Damur's knife.

The concerns that Frederick had were...somewhat different.

"Wait. Death?" he asked, alarmed. "Why? What's wrong with it?" Hector had wanted them to observe, and...

Well, from what they had seen so far, the place was horribly organized and the natives were mentally unstable and hostile to human life. Maybe there actually were consequences to being "metaphysically impossible."

And that raised the question—how might one create a stable "metaphysically impossible" location?

edited 13th May '11 9:21:09 PM by Chubert

Mary turned to the newcomer, who was at the entrance of the greenhouse. "Another one?" she thought, stepping back a foot. She had lost track of how many visitors there were. It was like whatever was drawing everyone to the carnival was getting stronger. Who knew who would be next.

"Why do you ask that?" Mary asked, "That isn't the way to introduce yourself."

"So, let me get this straight: Your weapon is made of Nothing. You serve a god who is called the Nameless One. Even though if he's called the Nameless One that means he technically has a name. I'll ignore that for now. And there is something called the God Eater. Oh, and this place is dying."

Valentine looked at the man for a few moments before throwing up her hands. "That does it! When I get home, I'm going on vacation! I'm taking Donovan and going someplace far away from any weird shit!"

She palmed her face. "Why do I have to be the only normal one here?"

Kiora was on edge, replacing the shuriken she had drawn. The man in white was definitely odd, and even Kohana was watching him intently.

"What do you think?" she whispered to her companion.

"I don't trust him," the vampire responded. "He's too calm about this."

"Think we should test him?"

Kohana shook her head. "No. Just keep an eye out. I'd keep your sword drawn. He's not normal, by any stretch of the imagination."

Kiora nodded and drew the weapon silently. She turned her eyes back to the greenhouse, but her focus was on the newcomer.

His face remaining utterly impassive, the Damur said to Mary, "there is nothing to be introducing. I am being Damur, and that is all I am being. I was asking that question because it is maybe becoming relevant." There wasn't a hint of either sympathy or malice in his voice; he was simply stating a fact, without any emotional investment whatsoever. Then he turned to Valentine, and said, "and as for you, a name is not a title. We are calling it the Nameless One, because its name was for taking from it — and it was this that was being its salvation. Titles are having no meaning. Names are having power. There is a difference. And yes, this place is dying. But you shall be seeing this for yourself soon enough." With that, he entered the greenhouse, and leaned against a wall.

edited 13th May '11 9:15:56 PM by KillerClowns

More people were inside the cracked and faded greenhouse downstairs. People from alternate settings, Frederick would presume. He had initially doubted the accuracy of Hector's words, but he had read the logs, seen the results of Helen's tinkering, and finally had to accept his claims as truth.

But Frederick knew that somebody inside was different.

Standing next to two women, one with a drawn weapon and the other exuding an atmosphere that made Frederick distinctly uncomfortable, Frederick's first impression of Mary Malone was that she was completely normal. Not a ghost. Not trying to kill him.

"Wait," he said, turning to the Damur. "Does that woman belong to this setting?"

The Damur said, "I am sensing it is so." Glancing with disinterest at Mary, and making no effort to hide his words from her, he said, "maybe she is surviving, if you are saving her. Maybe she is dying. I am not caring. But I am thinking that none here is dying, save those who have already done their dying, and, of course, I." In speaking of his own death, the Damur showed the first hint of emotion; a very subtle eagerness.

edited 13th May '11 9:37:02 PM by KillerClowns

"Yes, yes," Frederick said impatiently. Because if there were normal natives here, that changed the entire situation.

Paladin's mission was to protect society from paranormal threats to its security, and that included the imminent destruction of an entire setting. If the only people that would truly be affected were psychotic ghosts and spirits? Fine by him.

Helen came up to Frederick's side. Looking him in the eye, she nodded. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have cared that much. He would have nodded at the Damur's words, and then gotten the hell out.

Not now.

"How exactly might we save her?"

edited 13th May '11 9:35:25 PM by Chubert

"Saving her is not my problem. I am not knowing how to be saving her. Is your problem." Then, after a bit of thought, the Damur suddenly pulled his knife from its sheath. Holding it by the blade, he offered the handle to Mary. "I am not needing. You are taking. Maybe it is helping you postpone death little longer."

Kiora suddenly felt the need to speak up. "Nobody else is dying in this place. I will make sure of that."

Kohana elbowed her. "Didn't you just learn your lesson about that?"

"What, about trying to help people?"

Kohana shook her head. "About trying to save everyone. It'll get you killed one of these days."

Kiora shrugged. "No harm in trying, right?" She turned to the man in white. "We haven't been introduced. I'm Kiora. Pipsqueak here is Kohana."

The Damur's eyes blazed as he said to Kiora, "I am dying in this place, and if you are trying to stop me — or trying to kill me before time is right — I am destroying you." Then, his voice softening slightly, he added, "if you are speaking out of kindness, you need not be fearing. It is not being suicide, and it is not being sacrifice. Dying is part of greater planning. Maybe we are meeting again."

Kiora found herself shrugging again. "As long as you know what you're doing." She turned back to Mary. "What's the plan? You're still in charge here."

She cast her gaze around the room. "I definitely feel odd in this room. Or at least, stranger than I have anywhere else here."

Elise watched the scary man from around a corner, wondering when he would leave.

The Nameless One wants this man and his friends to destroy the carnival?

Why? That doesn't make any sense!

Molly had finished canvassing the greenhouse for anything dangerous lurking around. Her search returned nothing, so she took to observing this 'Damur' from the rafters, lest he try anything. He did not seem intent on hurting anybody here at the moment, but anything could happen, admittedly.

Cyrus hung back and observed the area. Change of plans, let's follow this weird, white-clad guy and listen to him wax ominous about destroying the carnival. Totally nothing wrong about that, like a rookie exorcist will be able to do anything about it.

Yeah, in fact, did this lady have a plan, or not?

edited 14th May '11 7:33:10 AM by CrystalGlacia

Everything that they were saying was going over her head, so she withdrew. Mary headed towards the patch of purple flowers near the back of the greenhouse and croched down right in front of them. She reached out her hand to bring one of the flowers closer to her. It was simply a violet, but it was in good shape. The petals had no tears in it, and the stem was perfectly green.

"Well, this is strange." she thought. Before she could decide to move on, she spotted a dim glow from the soil.

"Hey," Mary said, "I found something!"

Elise and Cyrus headed on over to the back of the room.

"Ooh, flowers!"

The girl's eyes lit up as she ran towards Mary and the pretty purple flowers- the first pretty thing she had seen in a long, long time.

How could they have survived in a shithole like this, though?

Cyrus examined them carefully.

...They're glowing? The soil's glowing?

Now... this can't have anything to do with Damur's apocalypse delusions.

Still... that is weird. This is Raphael or Lien's area of expertise, though. He doesn't know anything about a bunch of goddamn flowers.

"You sure it's not going to give everyone in this room radiation poisoning?"

The Damur followed Mary's eyes to the glow, and, tossing away his knife, began searching the greenhouse. He soon found a small hand spade. Thus equipped, he callously shoved Mary aside, crushing the flowers underfoot without a thought, and began digging towards the glow in a brisk, businesslike manner. As he did so, his icy demeanor was broken, ever so slightly, by a subtle smirk of triumph at the corner of his mouth. Could this be it? Or merely a tool to bring him closer to his goal? He would soon find out.

edited 14th May '11 11:11:20 AM by KillerClowns