Episode 1 - Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate

[Mr. Handy]

"I have a feeling he's that guy that used to work here," says Harry. "I bet he's in this with the witch."

[Mephistophilis]

Max blinks and the clown is right up in his face again. 'Everyone loves balloons Max.' There's a pop, the string in his hand going limp, red latex fragments flopping onto the ground.

[Mr. Handy]

Harry releases his balloon and watches it rise. "I only like them because of the fascinating properties of helium," he says.

[Snapper]

Max watched the clown fearfully, continuing to edge towards his friends.

"That's not really true is it? Not everyone loves anything! I didn't ask for a balloon and I don't want one. Now help us find our friends or get away from us!!"

[Mephistophilis]

The clown holds out his palms in front of him in what might be a gesture of contrition. Oddly the red balloon still seems to hang in the air, despite him releasing the string. There's no change in his masklike expression, but he turns and points to into the fog, towards the northwest.

'If you wantcha friends they're over there, Max.'

When they look back from where the clown is pointing he's moved again. He's standing just behind Dirk, leaning over his shoulder.

'Everybody loves clowns, Dirk,' and he leans forward, whispering in Dirk's ear in his rasping voice. 'Your momma loves clowns, Dirt.'

[Mr. Handy]

"That balloon must be filled with regular air," says Harry, "not helium. It's the only explanation why it doesn't float upward."

[Snapper]

Max continued to watch the clown with real fear. But he squared his shoulders, determined to keep going.

"I don't know who or what this guy is but let's ignore him and his friend, and keep going east. On the topic of which, where is his friend, the little kid with one arm?"

[Mr. Handy]

"Yeah, he may be trying to lead us into a trap," says Harry. "He's pointing toward the lake. We can always go there later if this doesn't pan out."

[Mephistophilis]

The clown shrugs mechanically, his face expressionless, 'Suit-cha self,' he croaks. 'Come back anytime,' and he releases his balloon which slowly rises up into the air, lightly buffeted to the side by soft breezes. It rises into the darkness, the swirling mist encompassing it until it fades completely from view.

When you look back down, the clown is gone. You see a flash of red hair on the far side of the carousel. You have no idea how he managed to get that far away from you in so little time. The clown peers around a full length mirror that's propped up against a broken wooden horse. He seems to have another red balloon, gives a little wave with his other hand, then turns and disappears into the night.

[Mr. Handy]

"Could they have gone to the lake?" asks Harry. "Maybe he was using reverse psychology."

[Snapper]

"At least the clown's gone for now. Let's get back to the carousel and just start yelling. The clown already knows where we are, there's no point hiding. But our friends might find us."

[Mr. Handy]

"Okay, let's go," says Harry.

[Mephistophilis]

You're mere yards away from the carousel. The ground about it is littered with old wooden horses, paint peeling, eyes scratched or even gouged out. A few are still attached to the poles on the ride itself but mostly they've been replaced by piles of mirrors of various shapes and sizes, the brooding presence of shapeless grey figures trapped behind the glass seems to intrude on your thoughts, even as you avoid looking into them directly.

OOC:   I'm not quite sure what would be appropriate but I'd suggest maybe a CON roll to see how loud you can shout.

[Snapper]

1d%45%

Fail.

Max attempted a good holler but wasn't very effective. "Darren!! Charlie!!"

[Mr. Handy]

Harry echoes him, but he's not loud enough.

CON roll (35% stat) to shout loud enough:
d%

[Mephistophilis]

There's no answer to your shouts - they're just swallowed up by the thick fog and strangled to nothing.

Although there's no response to your shouts, you think you might be able to hear something. Coming from the northwest. It sounds like it might be shouting, but it's too hard to make out who or what is being said.

[Snapper]

1d%FF40%

Fail.

[Mr. Handy]

"I hear some shouting, coming from the northwest," says Harry. "I just can't make out the words. Looks like the clown was telling the truth. Let's head that way."

Notice Stuff roll (43% stat) after shouting:
d%

[Snapper]

"Let's give it a try! This fog is terrible, we have to get everyone together then never split up again."

[Mephistophilis]

You stumble through the darkness, following the sound of voices. You can't make anything out through the fog, but there's an odd smell in the air. The further you walk the stronger it gets. It's an acrid burning smell that starts to sear your throat and make your eyes water. You stop and look around, but you can't tell where it's coming from.

Eventually starting onward again, the shadows in the mist seem to become more defined. Like another ride. And there's something else, a sort of flickering glow in the distance. And the voices continue, louder, angrier. The unmistakable words fuck off cut through the darkness.

Approaching a little more slowly you can finally make out the shape of some kind of bumper-car ride, rusted carts litter the floor, and the roof has mostly collapsed in, leaving only the metal frame, covered in a red-brown rust. A sign reads Dodgems. Towards the far side there's a good going fire inside one of the cars, smoke billowing up and out the open roof.



And in front of the ride you can see Charlie, carrying a knife in one hand. Looking at a man sitting on the ground, arms around his knees. Rocking. And a few feet away lies Darren, blood running down his face and shirt. Holding onto him on the ground, pressing a bloody rag against the wound. Is that Louis?

OOC:   Moving here.