Something blotted out the sun overhead and you looked up.
Darkness.
Air rushing past.
Snatches of crazed laughter.
Falling.
Voices arguing, singing...?
Music.
Darkness.
Music.
It is music that intrudes on the darkness and gradually drags you back to awareness.
Happy music, a simple tune that repeats endlessly, the volume raised enough to force people to raise their voices to be heard.
It takes you a few moments before you can dredge up a word that explains why this music seems so familiar. It's something from... before.
Before... what?
Something from your childhood. You remember going to a funfair when you were little, and the entertainers blasted this music the livelong day. You remember candies, and rides, and other simple entertainments that had you so excited you felt like jumping and running the whole time you were there with... with...
With who?
You cannot recall. There is only the bright, dancing phantasm of your own time at the funfair, sometime long ago.
With a shock, you realize that that is literally true. That is all you can recall of your past. A dim memory of looking up at something that blotted out the sun, a sensation of falling through darkness while eldritch voices laughed and shrieked, and your childhood day of untainted joy at the fair.
Oh, you can recall languages -- but not who taught you to speak them, nor conversations you might have had in them. You can probably speak without trouble, but you cannot remember whether there is anyone you might speak with. Do you have friends in the world? Family?
The world... You do not remember where in the world you are from, nor where in the world you might be.
Panic clutches at your throat and your eyes fly open.
You find yourselves, lying stark naked in a grassy field, ringed around by brightly painted wagons. Within the circle of wagons, a circle of mirrors, surrounding you. Over the wagons, you can see the tops of tall tents, pennants fluttering in the breeze.
That music you heard before is filling the air -- the air, scented with the perfume of sugary treats and treats fried in batter.
None of this looks at all familiar.
Nor are the creatures you find lying nearby, their strange forms reflected endlessly in the mirrors -- and you realize your own form is among those reflections.
A burly, green-skinned creature with rough features and small tusks.
An equine creature -- with feathery wings.
A pale-skinned humanoid, gaunt, with pale, sunken eyes it tries to shield from the brilliant sun overhead.
A rodent of unusual size, which turns out to be capable of standing upright.
As you all stagger to your feet, be it two or four, you discover small piles of clothing lying near each of you, except for the equine. They look like they might fit you. As you start to reach for these little bundles, names suddenly flash into your minds, bright as stars, painful as fire. Even when the initial stab of pain has faded, you are left with a dull, throbbing ache in the backs of your heads.
Kethys.
Midnight Frost.
Szerith.
Tigwith.
Your own names. That is something, surely. But apart from that name and the dim memories from before, you have... nothing.
Nothing...
The music.
Its insipid tune crawling in my ears. Forced gaiety trying to be lifelike. The brightness scratching at my eyes even before they open.
It burns my eyes! I cannot see.
It burns my flesh.
I hide my eyes from the sun and can barely make out others around me.
A pile of clothes. First, I'll get something to cover my head. Then the rest of me. Is there something here I can form into a hat to protect my eyes? No! The nausea rises in me, but there is no food to vomit up.
To Szerith's relief, he finds the clothes not only fit his slender frame perfectly, but there is a hat underneath the trousers! As he stuffs it down onto his head, he catches a whiff of stale sweat from its lining; this is a well-worn, old hat...
Tigwith discretely tries to put on his clothes.
As with Szerith, Tigwith discovers the pile of clothing closest to him a good match for his body. Almost as if it had been made especially for him...
Midnight groans as she gets up. Her legs wobbling. She even felt her wings ache. Her greyish almost neutral skin. A tingling sensation. The sun was out. Why was she so cold. Almost like ice....
"where am I? What... what is this place?" she groans a bit. Her eyes still blinking rrying to take in the light
Kethys stood, ignoring his nakedness for the moment. The music was cloyingly familiar, with overtones of almost rotten sweetness. He recognized it as something he had heard before, but wasn't currently part of his life.
Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see a few others hurriedly covering themselves with clothing that looked to have been placed nearby. The half-orc turned, looking for some that might fit him, grabbing a pair of pants and a tunic, then looking around again as he slowly dressed.
"What is this? A moment ago I was...I was...I have no idea. I can't remember anything. Kethys. I know my name is Kethys. All right, get a grip. You don't know what is out there, and you don't have anything at hand to defend yourself. Hope these others are friendly." The half-orc mumbled to himself as he tried to take stock of the situation.
Kethys spotted the hinges and moved over to the panel to swing it inward.
Szerith finished dressing. While affixing the hat to his head he notices ( ) a half orc getting up and mumbling to himself.
Overhearing his name, Szerith calls out, Kethys, wait up. What have you seen? Szerith moves over to where Kethys is looking.
After getting dressed, Tigwith hears some speaking, follows it, and tries to see what Kethys is doing.
-Posted with Wayfinder
What Kethys heard, was Kethys, vente op. Hvad har du set?
So many strange languages. None familiar with her. Seems the group is going somewhere. As she approaches the mirrored wall. she froze. she looked at herself in he mirror.
Grey skin, white mane. Her wings. Same, a mix between grey and white. Her eyes? Almost emotionless. Grey. Void. Her body seemed frail, but she felt strong, not in a physical sense. She extended her wings. It felt natural. Good. Her whole demeanour, it looked almost regal. Yes she felt comfortable looking at it. Then why, why does she think there is more?
Then it started. As she focused, focused on that tingling feeling of there was something more, she watched her reflection change.
At first, her skin darkened. To an almost deep, void like black. Her mane. It almost looked like it was catching fire, a cold, chilling fire. A mix of blues, greens and purple. Longer than her normal mane, the one she just saw. Her tail, the same, almost like it exploded with the same frosty fire. Her eyes, ice blue, piercing, powerful. Her wings seemed to melt into her body, vanishing completely. And finally, something very strange bgan to form on her flank. Till finally, a crescent moon, embedded in what looked like a snowflake
She almost smiled. Yes, this was her too, this felt. Normal. Finally sh looked at those gathered. Since noone answered her, she figured they do not speak her native language. so she had to try again
"Greetings strangers, I am called... Midnightfrost..." Yes, that is my name... glad I can remember that at least
Not having understood Szerith, Tigwith asks Midnightfrost, "Do you know where we are? I seem to have forgotten that."
She looks at the rodent
"Hmph, a talking rat, this sure is a strange place... guess i should answer. Well, rodent, if i knew, I would not concern myself with you. Yet, here we are it seems. We just have to tolerate each other"
And what is up with this language, she was sure she did not know it from... what ever place she was, but she is speaking it. Very odd indeed. But she will worry about it at a later stage
"And you, a blob with no permanent shape, will be no less difficult for me to tolerate."
She gives the pest a nod, and looks at the other two creatures. Waiting to see if either understood one of the languages she spoke
Kethys turned just in time to see a talking horse shift appearance. The sight unnerved him. He wasn't sure why. His lack of memory didn't provide context as to whether this was a normal occurrence or not. However, it just felt...wrong. Still, the creature was talking and...Kethys could understand him!
The words sounded strange in his ears, but Kethys knew he could respond in kind. Haltingly, he spoke in the strange tongue.
"Is it so strange? A talking rat, a talking horse, a talking albino, and a talking orc? It seems to me that these things might be considered strange in some places, but here it just seems to be. I believe I am called Kethys, though I can't say for sure. I don't know anything about this place. There seems to be some hole in my mind, or maybe a screen, blocking out clear sight of everything beyond. Still, there is a door here, and if you care to come with me, I intend to go through it."
There! As good an introduction as my father could have wished. Well, do I have a father? It seems like something I should know, but can't quite...oh well.
Introductions made, he turned back to the door.
"An orc, is that what you are called as a species? Sounds gruff, uncivilised. But I can not judge, at this time, for you obviously do not resemble how the word sounds. Yes, I believe I will follow you out, then we will see what is beyond this place, and get a better understanding on where we are. And hopefully, who we are"
How unusual,Szerith thought to himself, I seem to understand this, this, this, strange language they are using.
I seem also to be missing, well, not just my actual gear, but some part of my memory as well. I am Szerith. Does anyone remember anything before? If not, then perhaps by searching around we can find our... benefactor.
"Szerith. Interesting name indeed. There must be some reason why we are here, and also why we are without memories"
The mirror-panel opens smoothly, allowing you to move out of the circle and out into an odd combination of riotous fun and dead silence.
The first thing you see is a man-high sign with an odd shape, more than half-obscured by moss and mildew. A little judicious wiping reveals it was made to resemble a tall man in striped trousers with a mad grin, holding up an arrow which reads towards the circle of mirrors and reads - in Androffan - 'Hilarious Harry's Circle of Self-Contemplation!'
Happy funfair music rolls through the air in waves, and you start to hear low, muted grinding noises. As these latter noises speed up, you detect smells; some sweet, others savoury, all delicious - to all but one of you.
You are surrounded on all sides by colourful tents. There is a signpost with five arrows nearby, one of which leads back to the mirror-circle. A second leads to 'Sizzling Sally's Shooting-Gallery'. A third to 'Wise Wallt's Wild Animal Show'. The fourth to 'Zonko-Burger & Other Treats'. The fifth and final to 'Freakshow'.
All of this seems fairly standard fare, except for one thing.
You do not hear any voices.
"Gah. What is that wretched smell?!" she shakes her head in an effort to get the smell away from her nose. Do these... cretins... eat this? Wretched and vile. She will get rid of it as soon as she gets a chance.
She looks around. Her ears rotating to get a sense of the area
"This is not right.... no sounds of inhabitants."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Tigwith cautiously approaches Hilarious Harry's Circle and tries to look into the tent from a distance.
"Wretched smell? Hmmm. Perhaps some of us are more different than others.
Then to all the others, May I suggest we check out this Freakshow first. It may be a clue as to why such a menagerie like ourselves find ourselves here. Also, it is in alphabetical order. He says with a grin.
"I suggest we leave that for last. Jumping to get all the answers at once may not be a good idea. Let us start slow."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Kethys sniffed the air, then looked back at the pony. "I smell only cooking meats and pastries. In fact, the smells are very good, and make me hungry. Maybe your nose isn't working well?"
The half-orc shrugged and looked around at all the tents and structures.
"Still, you're not wrong about taking it slow and easy. Freakshow is as good a starting place as any."
Kethys moved off towards the Freakshow, his hand unconsciously dropping to his belt where...there was nothing. Why did he feel that something should rest there?
"Meat? Flesh? You eat flesh of other beings? Savages." she sniffs and walks ahead of them to the so called Freakshow
"Come on then. Don't waste time" showing them her tail
-Posted with Wayfinder
The Freakshow is not that far away; it's a funfair, after all. Everything is in walking distance.
The Freakshow is a series of tents, pitched and connected so they form a curved tunnel of sorts. Curved and murky; dim lights illuminate the interior of the tunnel and serm to cast more shadow than light.
Glass tubes and cages great and small line the footpath that leads down the middle of the Freakshow. Small signs, barely legible in the murk, advertise a wide range of freaks: dog-faced boys, Siamese twins, geeks, ladies fat, bearded and thin, the amazing giraffe-necked man, the backward child...
The only problem is, none of them are there. The cages are lined with fresh straw, what furniture is set out in them looks impeccable, the tubes are drained and smell faintly of some caustic cleansing agent... but there are no live freaks, nor dead ones preserved in formaldehyde.
At the end of the Freakshow, you come upon a surprising sight: a merry-go-round, large as a house. The music is especially loud here, and the merry-go-round is a truly impressive piece of work. It looks even more impressive as it is in full swing, wooden horses and other creatures rising and falling as they go around and around and around...
Around the merry-go-round, there are numerous booths. One is labelled 'tickets'. Another: 'pretzels'. The third: 'popcorn'. A fourth: 'iced drinks'. The fifth: 'ice creams (various)'. The sixth: 'dawgs'.
"Gaaah!" she stumbles back. Before she lets out a sigh
"What kind of entertainment is this?" she was beginning to dispise this place more and more
-Posted with Wayfinder
Noticing the piece of paper at the fat lady's cage, Twigwith approaches in order to read it and announces, "I found a piece of paper."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Tigwith picks up the note and looks inside.
Scribbled on the note is... a red cross. With a red Arrow pointing toward it. It looks to have been drawn by hand, rather than stamped onto the cheap bit of paper. The red material does not appear to be proper ink; it still feels a little tacky to the touch and smells faintly of... candy? In the upper right corner, you find a pair of words which look to have been stamped, but are not in any language you know. These words have been crossed out; scribbled underneath them in Androffan.
'Favour Brothers Ltd.'
"Of course I eat meat, doesn't everyone?" Kethys shrugged and followed the pony to the Freakshow. He was a little disappointed that none of the menagerie were actually in their cages.
Of course, the four of us could probably have our own stalls here. Especially the talking horse and rat.
When Tigwith showed them the note, with its arrow and cross, Kethys shrugged. "No idea what that is about, but maybe it'll come in handy soon."
He turned to look at all of the booths around the giant carousel, trying to see if he could actually get a ride, or maybe some of those snacks. He had no idea what a dawg was, or a pretzel. He was pretty sure he knew what popcorn was, and iced drinks, but why would they have a separate booth for iced cream? Wasn't cream a drink? He wandered over to check that out.
"You do realise that you and I are classified as meat?" she scoffed. Before going to inspect this so called iced cream
-Posted with Wayfinder
"It's the way of the world, neighbor. Some eat, some are eaten."
How do I know that?
As Kethys and Midnight Frost approach the ice cream booth, they see that they are constructed around hollow metal tubes, which extend down into the ground.
You receive only a moment's warning; a dry, whooshing sound.
A gleaming figures wrapped in leathery rags shoots up out of the depths and flails around in the booth, arms swinging up and down with a clattering sound, teeth sparkling in the sun as its jaw chomps at the air.
"Call me Gator Gus
I'm the fair's cooking cuss
Get your non-Zonko eats from me!
And as a special treat
Here's my mercantile feat
The day's first order is free!
I got gelato and soft serve
Vanilla, banana and mashed smurf
Pomegranate, caramel, no fear
Frozen whisky and bourbon and beer
Pistachioe and cherry, grape and berry
And whipped cream and sprinkles you'll love!"
Tigwith's rodent instincts make him perk up at the mention of mashed smurf.