EVENT LOG: SCAVENGER HUNT

[lucetimods]

Who: All you scavenger hunters!
What: Scavenging and other fantabulousness, I suppose.
When: November 24th to 28th
Where: The whole village! And yet also all over time and space...
Summary: See this post for more info.
Rating: P for Points! (Keep it PGish, folks. Anything worthy of a higher rating can be brought to your appointments posts.)

As announced by CJ, the village's immediate environs are divided up according to this map. There are five areas: the Nile, Ice Age, Space Opera, Shogunate, and Gangland. Time-and-place appropriate architecture and conjured up NPCs exist in each area.

Don't forget the scavenger hunt! While actually finding things is ultimatly optional, you can find more information on the hunt here. If you want to claim a reward from the hunt, be sure to link at least two related threads on the new rewards claims post.

Finally, here's a quick rundown of the objects:
- In THE NILE: A ceremonial dagger and a piece of Pharoah's treasure
- In GANGLAND: A tommy gun and a set of car keys
- In ICE AGE: A bone spear and a smilodon's tooth
- In SPACE OPERA: a raygun and part of a robot
- In SHOGUNATE: a samurai sword and water from a kappa's head

Happy hunting!

Comments

Any NIGHT

[deadpoet]

Spike woke up in Gangland. As far as he's concerned, he'd rather stay. Even if he doesn't care for the hat and tie, he's able to throw his black longcoat over top it and feel in his element. He rather did like this era, after all. Especially the women. He is carelessly flirting with the NPC women in order to get one back to his flat. New guy that he is, chances are he'll probably mistake a real Luceti woman for an NPC that he can easily work over.

He isn't concerned with the reward though. Especially since the sunny Nile makes that impossible for him to really take part in anyway. But at times he does get bored and wander about. If given incentive, he'll even help out will collecting items.

(Costumes: Space Opera, Shogunate, and some kind of dark skinned furs in Ice Age because screw looking for new links.)

night three. gangland.

[herotypical]

The flapperesque gin queen of Good Spirits -- bob wig and all -- was trying to close up shop. 2AM was a painful hour: her feet were sore from the shoddy heels she couldn't seem to successfully abandon and her eyes still stung from all the cigar smoke the conjured mobsters had pumped into her establishment. For fake cigars, they sure did stink.

But she'd finally shooed most of them out and she'd swept up all the broken glasses from a brawl that had been sparked by some sort of prohibition deal gone bad. And -- just now -- she finished wiping down the bar's lacquered counter. A poker game still raged in the back room. She could hear their chortles and the smooth, silky sound of shuffled cards.

God, how she wanted to go to bed. Sleep off this damned Shift. And -- of course, as in any good hardboiled story -- that was when the ex-lover walked in the door. Buffy sighed, and with a wry tip to their environs: "Of all the gin joints in all the world, you had to walk into mine..."

[deadpoet]

Spike was at first distracted by one of the patrons, a sexy NPC draped over her drink at the bar, and he was about to narrow in on her. As he sat down at the bar, he gave Buffy only a passing look. Underneath that wig, he didn't immediately recognize her.

"A glass of gin for me. And another for the lady in red."

[herotypical]

...She blew an uneasy sigh through otherwise tight lips. Buffy cocked her had, not turning her body as she reached for a square-bodied bottle of gin.

"As far as I know, the lady in red doesn't like gin. At least, she didn't order it. So if you're actually looking to get jiggy with a construct -- which, by the way, is heinously gross -- then you might wanna order her a vodka-cranberry."

[deadpoet]

"Look, bird, I didn't ask you about--" He caught himself as he repeated the word construct in his head, then got a double take of the bartender in question.

"... bloody hell, what happened to your hair?"

[herotypical]

She touched a self-conscious trio of fingertips against the bottommost layer of her tight, dark-coloured bob. Buffy had only the bar's bathroom mirror to show her what she looked like and she'd only taken a moment or two to witness the change.

"The '20s roared on me, I think." And her nose wrinkled in a suggestion that she wasn't at all pleased with the look. "They roared on you too, I see."

There. A finger's measure of gin in a glass. She passed it over.

[deadpoet]

Spike held the glass up, letting it turn about in the glass, before downing it all at once.

"It did. I'll tell you this, Buff. The real thing wasn't half as good as this is."

[herotypical]

"Ah. Yes. Am I due for another round of the epic narrative that is Spike's First Hand Experience?"

She watched him swallow the gin with a sympathetic twinge. Not for how he likely tasted it but for how she imagined it tasted. Her nose winkled. She didn't envy him and yet she remembered the borrowed tongue and the stolen ability to taste alcohol without cringing. And she missed it.

"Enlighten me. What makes this better?"

[deadpoet]

"The women," Spike began as he set the glass down for another round, "Were never this good, for one. It's all the classic fun bits, too. None of the not so good bits no one likes to remember."

He tipped his hat down. "Plus I've a new perspective on the whole thing, haven't I?"

He wasn't just looking for his next meal.

[herotypical]

Without thinking, really, she tipped the bottle and poured him another.

"The women aren't even real." Not that it'd stopped him before. But she didn't say it aloud. It'd only shame herself as much as it did him. Possibly even more. "A-and...it's disruptive! And I feel all...illegal and rebellious and not in a good way. And flapper dresses do nothing for anyone's figure.

And I've heard quite enough of your new perspective, thanks."

Sore spot. She had to change the subject. She had to change it fast.

"What about the hunt, huh? Are you buying into that brouhaha?"

[deadpoet]

He was grateful to not have his past indiscretions brought up. The bit about the scavenger hunt gave him a more convenient a topic to focus on.

"What, with the bloody violence is bad message? Not a bloody chance. If the Malnosso want me to go and bust some heads for them to earn myself a little entertainment, then I'll do it. But I'm not about to let them tame me with little exercises of restraint. I can handle that bit on my own."

[herotypical]

"Can you?"

Buffy Summers had always possessed a beyond adequate amount of sass; however, the flapper's dress and the new hair really put an extra edge on her words. Not an unfriendly edge -- no, not unfriendly at all. But neither was it wholly playful. She remained guarded but she flirted with the very outmost edges of being frank.

"Funny," her eyes flicked from him to to the gin bottle's rim as she tidied a spare drop from its corkscrew threads with the edge of a thumb. "I don't recall you ever being a big-time mascot for self-restraint. Still -- I agree. It's not a game I'm interested in playing, either."

[deadpoet]

He bristled at the acknowledgement of his past misdeeds. The argument about being soulless didn't hold water. Not for him, anyway. He finished yet another glass, before pushing it away. He wasn't keen on another.

"You've better things to do? Like serving drinks to fake people?

[herotypical]

Oh, she spoke not of his soul. More his...general disposition. Neither of them fought altogether much with their brains. She'd only wanted to acknowledge that shared reliance upon impulse. But he'd taken it poorly.

Of course he'd taken it poorly. Buffy understood -- with a twist in her gut -- that she had very little right to expect him to take anything well. And so she blamed herself for his bristling, when any decent woman with her head screwed on right would have blamed the monster.

"I don't wanna. They're...boring. And they use funny words." Petulant -- and hypocritical. One funny-word-user complaining of another. "Don't leave me to deal with them all alone again, Spike."

[calmbeforethe]

After thoroughly exploring what she could of The Nile and the Ice Age, Ororo thought it was time she looked for her fellow housemates. She remembers them mentioning the town centre, so she cuts across the sky towards the plaza which, even from over the Nile, she could see was a drastically different place, but probably familiar for at least Logan. She could see why he would prefer that over the icy wasteland they'd woken up in.

But her flight takes her over the Space Opera - and once she crosses the border, her costume Shifts from the sparse, light, flowing Egyptian cotton to some cold, heavy metal-plated(?) manner of.... undergarment? Surprised, she takes an abrupt landing at the nearest stretch of flat land.

[deadpoet]

Spike gave an appreciative look as he spotted an unfamiliar woman come descending to the ground from... the air. Between the two of them, they looked like a pair that had gotten lost at a Sci-Fi convention. The difference being that they made it look good.

Spike had mainly been working his charms on the Gangland NPCs, but if he could find some in the Space Opera that looked like this, then he saw no reason not to partake.

He quirked his eyebrows and turned on the smolder. "Nice outfit there, bird. Vary Tatooine."

[calmbeforethe]

She was too busy frowning down at the costume to look up at the owner of that voice. Strictly speaking, she was more covered up now than when she'd been in the Nile. But... A collar? With a chain? Really?

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this style... What was it you called it? Tatooine?"

[deadpoet]

Well if she didn't know what Tatooine was, she had to be a construct. Bully for him.

"It's a real classy style, bird. Fitting for a lady like you."

[calmbeforethe]

Well, all she sees are metal and chains arranged in a purposefully provocative manner, a far cry from the clothes from the Nile which, while revealing, was simple and felt more liberating than choking.

She gives the other man an almost offended, haughty glare.

"And what do you mean by that?"

[deadpoet]

Well, complimenting a woman for being in an outfit like that probably wasn't ever going to go over well, was it?

"Only that most women couldn't make the look work, could they? Not that I envy you the metal bits, but you've got the body for it."

[calmbeforethe]

She couldn't very well get mad at him for wording it like that, could she?

"Hm. Thank you, I think." She took a moment to get a closer look at the stuff, metal clinking with almost every movement. "I'm not sure I understand the significance of this costume, however. I don't see how it matches this particular setting."