Chapter Text
Frost has just finished mending a hole in the Magical Mister Morning Frost: Mind Reader tent when he hears the trill of faraway screams.
Screaming, either of joy or fear, is not an unusual sound for Carnivale Lecroux. Often there’s an equal mix of both, though the latter has become more predominant since the Herris Wheel started encountering technical issues. Concerning, but also very much not Frost’s department as it were. He’s only paid for running his Psionics booth and shows, repairing circus tents and helping Kremy crunch numbers for tax evasion.
However, it’s unusual to hear so much carry-on before the carnivale has officially opened. The equivalent-of-Tuesday always finds them closed to the public, carrying out necessary plans and repairs before another week of operation.
It must be a carny, then. That means trouble, possibly even danger. Frost lets his ears guide him across the swampy field that’s been their home for this month and tracks past a line of red-white striped tents used for bigger attractions and temporary storage.
Suddenly, the bulky form of one Gideon Coal pops out of the Beast-tent entrance, immediately hollering Kremy’s name out into the fair-grounds.
‘KREMY! NEED YOUR HELP!’
He turns back into the tent then double-takes as he spots Frosts.
‘Frosty, thank Gods! Get’cher ass in here, man, Gricko’s gone rogue!’
Frost picks up the pace, hurrying after Gideon as he hustles inside.
The smell of sweat, straw and fresh blood is so pungent he recoils immediately, taking a second to recover as his eyes adjust to the gloomy tent. He can hear the shrieking far more clearly, an animalistic cry of pain. Gricko would never hurt one of the carnivale’s animals, not unless his hand was thoroughly forced and even then, Frost doubts it. Did two animals break out and hurt each other in a scuffle? Did they hurt Gricko in a scuffle?
Soon he’s able to fully take in the scene before him, and it’s… certainly not what he was expecting.
The source of the shrieking is a human man that Frost more or less recognises as a carny. John. Jim? Something like that. The reason for the shrieking is very familiar to Frost – Gricko – in a very unfamiliar situation – hanging from the man’s forearm by his teeth.
Frost turns to Gideon, wide-eyed. ‘What happened?’
‘I ‘unno man, I just heard screamin’ and by the time I got here, Gricko had his jaws around this guy’s fuckin’ arm!’
‘Get him off! GET HIM OFF!!!’ The carny screams. He waves his arm back and forth, trying to dislodge Gricko while the goblin’s legs peddle at the air.
‘I’m tryin’, hold still!’ Gideon rushes to the pair, gets a solid grip on the top and bottom halves of Gricko’s face, and pulls.
‘Down, boy! Bad goblin, drop it!’
There’s a muffled gurgle but Gricko doesn’t budge.
‘Jeez, he’s really in there.’
‘It appears so.’
‘FUCK!’
‘Yeah man, you said it. Hey Frosty, you think this guy’s arm is gonna survive this? Or is this more like an “amputate” situation?’
‘What?! What the fuck?!’
‘I- the- uh, medicine isn’t exactly my proficiency, you’d have to ask a healer.’
‘Well, where the hell’s our healer?’
Frosts eyes drift back to the carny’s arm.
‘… godsdammit, Gricko!’
‘Alright, stand back.’ Frost shakes his sleeves out of the way and holds his hands in front of his core to align his focus. ‘I’m going to use the power of my mind to reach out to Gricko and compel him to unlatch himself. It will require great concentration, so any quiet you can afford me would be appreciated.’
Gideon nods and steps away. The carny screams louder, which is a little rude as that’s the opposite of what Frost asked for and he’s trying his best to help, but he’ll work around it.
He taps into his inner Psionic energy, creating a broad, passive sphere of consciousness around himself and the tent. The bursts and trails of thoughts and feelings in the space intermingle. It’s akin to raindrops on a tin roof, where the collective action of many results in a unique cacophony. Frost breaths deeply and centres the sphere down to a pinprick, searching.
Gideon is closest to him so he senses his thoughts first, steady and worried, *blood-violence-Gricko-arm-kinda-funny-don’t-laugh-lawsuit-pigfarm-where’s-Kremy-when-ya-need-him.*
He veers wide and catches the carny’s thoughts, which are basically a running loop of *PAIN-PAIN-PAIN* with swears intermingled. He’s close though, a few more seconds and he’ll cut through the noise and tap into Gricko. Then, he can diagnose and hopefully alleviate whatever hex, curse or delirium has beset his friend and made him lash out in such a way. Frost really, really hopes it’s not rabies.
In his mind’s eye, the pinprick moves to the side and downwards, and-
*BITE-HATE-BITE-DANGER-FIGHT-PROTECT-BITE-MAUL.*
It slams into Frost like a ten-foot wave. Fear, disgust, rage. The frenzied thoughts are accompanied by a litany of howls, the unearthly chorus of a dozen primal spirits. Every single one is baying for blood.
Frost clutches his head and keels over as though struck. He can feel Gideon steady him as he topples and his mind clings to the sensation of heat to recover from overstimulation.
For all the years he’s known Gricko, he’s never seen an outburst of this magnitude from his friend. He’s seen Gricko annoyed of course, sometimes angry, on rare occasions even vitriolic. This is beyond that. It’s visceral, scary.
‘Woah, Frost, you good?’
Frost cringing in on himself, Gideon trying to keep the Tabaxi upright while scolding Gricko like a misbehaving dog, the carny screaming and crying with his bloody arm and the goblin aloft – it must be a strange scene for Kremy to walk into.
‘Okay fellas, what exactly is the oohhh. Oh, sweet Baron beyond. I knew this day would come.’
Kremy shuffles over to Frost and, almost frighteningly gentle, helps to steady him. He pats Frosts shoulder with a sombre shake of his head.
‘It’s rabies, isn’t it? I dunno what to say, Frost, I- Well. I can help ya sort out all his affairs, if you like. And hey, there’s a nice tree on a hill not too far from here, I’ll send Gid out with a shovel and we can get some flowers together-‘
‘That isn’t- Gricko’s acting of his own free will. I think. It’s not medical, at least.’
‘What!’ Kremy’s demeanour flips like a switch. He brushes past Frost, knocking him off-kilter once again as he clicks his tongue at Gricko. ‘Can’t believe I had to come all the way down here just ‘cause y’all don’t have any damn self-control.’
‘I didn’t do NOTHING, Lecroux, he just fucking jumped me!’ The carny screams.
‘Mgghgphm.’ Around the arm, Gricko makes an indignant noise.
‘I don’t wanna hear your excuses! Now…’
Spinning his wrist for effect, Kremy brings his middle finger and thumb together.
‘Would you kindly get your teeth outta his arm and calm the hell down?’
Snap.
There’s a tingle to the air. A deep purple haze swims across Gricko’s eyes. It’s followed by an unnaturally bright flash of cerulean and Frost hears a wet crunch. The carny howls in renewed pain as Gricko braces himself against the man and buries his teeth deeper into his flesh.
‘…You little bastard.’ Snap. Snap, snap, snap. ‘Is this thing on?’
A feral growl vibrates in the druid’s chest. He glares at them all, blood dripping off his chin while the carny gasps desperately, ‘Oh GODS I think he locked his jaw!’
‘Why the hell are you just standing there, Gid? Pull him off the guy!’
‘You think I haven’t tried that? He ain’t budging!’
Despite that, Gideon hurries away from Frost and resumes his previous position, yanking and pulling at Gricko’s head with all his might.
‘Fucking ridiculous.’ Kremy points his cane from Frost to Gricko. It shudders a little as more purple magic coalesces around the grinning skull handle.
‘Frost, you’ve got twenty seconds to get him under control or I Eldritch Blast him off.’
‘My ARM-’
‘You want him hangin’ on there forever? It’ll barely graze ya. Probably. Frost! Ten seconds!’
Frost doesn’t waste any more time. He lurches forward, ignoring the human and crouching to meet his friends eye level.
‘Gricko. Gricko, trust me, I don’t think Kremy is joking. I need you to let go, now.’
‘Mphrhm!’
‘Whatever the problem is here we will solve it but we can’t do that if, if Kremy turns you into a goblin Tornado Potato.’ He clutches at Gricko’s arm. ‘I don’t know how I’d explain that to Hootsie. Please, Gricko. If not for my sake or your own, for hers.’
‘…Mphgm.’
A deeply unpleasant noise that Frost can only describe as a schlorp follows as Gricko opens his mouth wide and releases the arm. Until this moment, Frost has never gotten a good look at Gricko’s mouth. It’s usually far too occupied with talking, eating and the like for Frost to get any sense of what Goblin dental anatomy might entail. His maw quite reminds Frost of a carnivorous fish, each tooth serrated from the very tip onwards to a millimetre above his gums. In hindsight that explains a lot.
‘Eugh.’ Gideon shudders and lifts the smaller man up and off. As soon as he drops him to the ground Frost swoops in and takes Gricko by the shoulders, kneeling down to check him for any sign of injury.
There’s blood, so, so much blood, but Frost soon ascertains that little to none of it is Gricko’s. His teeth must have punctured a vein, the front of his blue Beast-tamer vest is drenched in maroon - the rest of him, strangely enough, recalls memories of a quaint diner scene from Frosts years on the road, the aftermath of a toddler let loose on a plate of hearty ragu. Frost doesn’t have to turn around to know the man’s forearm is in a gruesomely spaghetti-like state.
‘Deep breaths, Gricko. Centre yourself.’
Gricko duly ignores him to glare daggers into the carny, so Frost taps at the edge of his mind with his own, just a nudge to try and draw his focus. He catches his gaze and holds it, unblinking, providing his friend a calming focal point.
‘S’alright, I’m done.’ Gricko mutters, deflating in Frosts hold. He clears his throat and addresses the group. ‘Jus’ got a lil’ heated but it’s good, I’m all good, it’s all good.’
John, Jim, whoever he is, whines at the sight of his own mangled arm, now hanging limp by his side. His stare jumps wildly from his arm to Gricko.
‘You…’ He chokes out, ‘You crazy PRICK!’
‘AH, FUCK YOU!’ Frost barely gets his arms around Gricko to stop him from leaping at the man. ‘FROSTYLEMMEGOI’MGUNNA KILL THIS FUCKER! YOU-’ The rest devolves into a torrent of Goblinspeak, phrases Frost recognises as untranslatably vulgar from the time Gricko spent hours trying to find Common equivalents and still came up short.
Kremy snaps his jaws in frustration, ignoring Gricko in favour of his now-injured employee.
‘What in the hell is wrong with you two, huh? I’m running a carnivale here, not some gods-damned fight club. This is a family-friendly establishment!’
‘Coulda fooled me!’ The carny, frenzied with pain, has the guts to sneer in Kremys face. ‘I’d bet the Karkinos Board of Fêtes and Circuses would love to hear the gritty details about this shitshow.’
Frost watches as the shadows in the Beasts tent deepen ever so slightly. Kremy does not move but Gideon glances nervously, maybe even a little excitedly, from injured employee to employer. The bloodied human man doesn’t seem to notice.
‘I’d better see some great fucking workers comp if you don’t want this bit of dirty laundry getting aired out, capiche? …Jeezus, my arm.’
Even with Gricko yelling and squirming in his hold, Frost hears foreboding drums. Kremy has a wicked light in his eyes as he simpers at the man.
‘Why, of course! Carnivale Lecroux always takes care of it’s employees, especially in… atypical circumstances, such as this.’ With the air of a manager inviting his staff to a company lunch rather than one confronted with a workplace mauling, Kremy starts to usher the man out of the tent. ‘Mr Coal, please escort this gentleman to the back office, we’ll get him fixed and talk compensation.’
‘COM-PIN-STATION!? I’LL SHOW THAT RATFUCKER SOME BLOODY COMPINSTATION-’
‘No.’ Frost is a sturdy pine within the storm. His arms ache but he holds firm. ‘No, you’ve done enough. You will stop, or I will hold you here until you do. That is enough, Gricko.’
‘Gid. Back office. Right fuckin’ now.’
Gideon jumps to action, manhandling the pale, shaking carny out into daylight with a practised efficiency while the man complains the whole way. Kremy strides out after them, stops briefly, shoots the struggling goblin a dark look.
‘You listen here, Gricko. When I’m done out back, you and me? We’re gonna have words.’ He glances at the Tabaxi. ‘Frost, watch him.’