Mission # 9 - Festival at Rataneran Keep

[lucetimods]

Who: Jack Sparrow, Pao-Lin Huang, Remy LeBeau, Buffy Summers, Maron Kusakabe, Raine Sage, Albert Silverberg, Trafalgar Law, Neferteri Vivi, Rogue, Pepper Potts, Cloche Leythal Pastalia, Temperance Brennan, Norma Beatty, Raven, Grune, Sokka, Kiba Inuzuka, Eusine, Peeta Mellark, Yamanaka Ino, Jiro Kusano, Rainbow Dash, Steve Rogers, Booth, Joshua Bright, Leonhardt, Syre Atries
What: MISSION # 9 - Festival at Rataneran Keep
When: August 17th to 18th
Where: Rataneran Keep
Summary: Volunteers have been summoned to Rataneran Keep to put on a festival for the time-honored “Founder’s Day Festival”. However, three assassins have been assigned to put an end to a certain Count.


Upon being deployed from Luceti, the group of volunteers were transported by private jet for three hours. Due to containment requirements, the windows were blacked out, preventing them from seeing outside. These few hours went by rather quietly, as they were given food and other necessities by a staff of worker droids. When they landed, they were greeted by a businessman in a brown suit, attended by several aides and a security detail. He looked frustrated, overworked, and unhappy to be there. But when the group had all arrived, he spoke to the lot of them.

“Welcome adventurers, heroes, and whoever else the rest of you might be. I’m CJ- that’s short for Cave Johnson. I’m the RP Manager for the Malnosso Assignment and Reward Service. That’s right, Service. Starts with an S. Makes the MARS acronym work that much better. Now, today you’re not here to save any lives or fight cultists or anything in the pursuit of science. No, tomorrow you’re going to put on stupid costumes, face paint, and put on a damn good show. Big wigs from the organization are going to be at this festival, just like every year. Now you might be thinking to yourself this is your big chance to get to know the Commandant. Or that you have a shot at rubbing elbows with the head of the science department. Well time to get that thought out of your head. You’re here for one reason. Information. Information about things that have nothing to do with those people.”

Deep breath and Cave Johnson stopped to continue, but his cell phone rang. Shushing the volunteers, he turned away and started talking. Those with especially keen hearing overheard something like, “No, Janice. I said no- okay, fine. Fine, yes. If those damn Segretarians want to keep escaping, then we’ll stop working with them. Alright. Alright. I heard you. Okay. Bye.”

Entirely unapologetic, he turned back to the group. “I’ll lay this out simple for you folks on how this is going to work. The lot of you? You’re not from Luceti. Or any other enclosure. You’re a traveling circus known as the Feathered Phenomenals. A real popular group that’s been paid to not show up. You people will be filling in for them. That means taking over their caravan, their costumes, their animals, and all the hard work that comes with it. You’ll be sleeping outside of Rataneran Keep for your first night, so if you don’t like sleeping on the ground, then you should have thought of that before signing up.”

“So what are you keeping your ears out for?” He asked. “Well here’s your spoilers, kids. Count Zompano is the one running this gig. You know him already. He’s the son of a bitch running the enclosures now. That puts him in charge of experiments, the authorization of abductions and arrivals, and whether I keep my job and the MARS project keeps going on. So you bunch need to find any dirt you can on him. Talk to the servants and guards, but don’t give yourselves away. If we can blackmail the bastard, we’ll put him out of a job and we all go home happy. Now, if you’ll talk to my aides, they’ve all got identities and roles set up for you to fill. Don’t go complaining if you don’t like what you get. Any questions?”

Cave Johnson stuck around a little longer to answer any questions in his stubborn, blunt way. But eventually his cell phone rang again and he was summoned away. This left the volunteers to get their badges that would reveal what roles they would be playing in the troupe. They were strictly forbidden from trading or to use their real names. They were also given see-through adhesives to put over their barcodes, for those with short enough hair to be exposed. These effectively made the barcodes vanish and be imperceptible.

While that lot was busy, the security quietly picked out Joshua Bright, Leonhardt, and Syre Atries at different times, separately and done to ensure no one noticed anything awry. Each were taken to a private black van where Specialist Davis was waiting for them. Each one received a private primer on what they would be doing. Perform as unimportant members of the troupe. While the show was running, they would assess the security, make preparations to corner Count Zompano, and at last knock him out and abduct him. They would then meet with Davis again, at night time of the second day, to deliver the Count for delivery to the cultists. If the assassins succeeded, they would receive an extra reward.

However, each assassin was not made aware of the other two, leaving them under the impression they would be working alone and without competition. They were sternly warned not to reveal their role to ANYONE. Should they do so, Cave Johnson had already arranged specific punishments for such an occasion.

Day 1:

The first day of the mission, besides transportation and being informed of the situation, will be spent allowing the volunteers to get into the roles designated for them. All of them will be expected to do their part in setting up the stage, high wires, cages, and other parts needed to put on the show. Some of the work by the castle’s staff will already be completed, but most of the first day will be spent doing the finishing touches and, of course, rehearsing. They will not be permitted to wander around the castle at this time. At night, they will set up tents outside the walls of the Keep.

For a ten mile radius around the castle (which extends far beyond the castle walls), a Shift preventing the use of any special powers has been erected. This will prevent anyone in the group from using special abilities that cannot be performed by an ordinary, mundane human being. Along with having no weapons, this puts the group at a severe disadvantage should they try to pick a fight. The castle is itself host to a large and efficient security detail. Although they are not members of the Malnosso Security Force, they are armed with the same sorts of weapons and use radios to relay information. Notably there are no droids being used among the castle staff. Every task is performed by a multitude of underpaid servants.

During this time they will have ample opportunities to talk to the servants, some of which will be more forthcoming than others. The security will be less talkative, but that’s nothing that they can’t handle if they’re willing to flirt a little, invite them to a drink, and lull them into a false sense of security. Examples of snippets they will provide in the comments below.

Day 2:

The majority of the Founder’s Day festivities will be taking place in Rataneran Keep’s grand hall. Although normally kept austere and severely underdecorated, a large battalion of underpaid Malnosso underlings have truly outdone themselves. There are tapestries on the walls depicting famous scenes from the Organization’s history, hanging chandeliers filled with smoky, wax-dipping candles, and great wooden tables piled high with delicacies culled from a variety of the world’s most profitable enclosures. But don’t even think about snagging a pastry or cut of meat for yourself! The help has been strongly discouraged from sharing in the master’s feast -- such pilfering will come with stern reprimands and, in severe cases, lost digits.

Squat, raked seating fills both ends of the hall and servants scurry back and forth between the food and the guests, serving them with gusto. The count and his more esteemed guests sit in a box-like seating area, flush against the long east wall. Security is also present. However, the center of the room is empty and so houses the real entertainment; it is in this space the volunteers would have set up as their stage on the previous day. Before the Feathered Phenomenals perform, there comes a choir that seemed to be made up of captured cultists. Their otherwise majestic, long wings are clipped and bound together. Most of the festival’s guests seem mildly troubled by the display; the count, meanwhile, guffaws and applauds the loudest. The man appears heartless. Why -- one servant whispers wide-eyed to the gathered Lucetian troupe before they went on -- apparently just the night before, the count had ordered the execution of an entire company of painters, one of which had displeased him by painting his nose just a little too big. It didn’t matter that his nose was big to begin with, she clarifies. Just that the count had been insulted, and that he’d felt a week of being dead would lend the painters some additional perspective. And so, she warns, the circus performers had better do their utmost best unless the count should also choose to put these mice through their paces.

Count Zompano himself will not be difficult to spot. A man with a gaudy sense of fashion, he dresses in foofy clothes and wears a pompadour wig. What makes him particularly distinctive are his pink-ish skin, yellow eyes, and large pink wings, which he decorates with glitter. With a foppish attitude and a tendency to refer to anyone he does not consider his equal as ‘little mice’, he is a man who makes himself the center of attention wherever he goes. Typically surrounded by a security detail, there are few times when he is ever alone and not basking in attention. He is extremely brutal to those who interrupt him, displease him, or otherwise annoy him. Guards who fail in their duties to him are swiftly executed and servants are often sent below the castle to be ‘re-educated’ of their role.

In the evening, before the final act, is when the Count will be successfully abducted. This final act will be the play about Founder’s Day. As the four actors put on their show, the rest of the troupe will be packing up to leave. At its conclusion, the group will be ready to leave. With the help of the Security Forces, they will be allowed to depart without incident, despite the castle security doing a sweep to find their employer. The remaining assassin will rendezvous with them later after delivering the Count to Specialist Davis.

---

OoC Information:

-You can make up fake names and identities that your characters will assume. They’re just locked into the professions revealed before. Feel free to come up with your own costume and makeup ideas too!
-Any attempts to escape or fight their way free will result in them being detained by security. Specialist Davis will arrange for them to spend the rest of the mission in MSF custody.
-For the assassins: Leonhardt is the designated assassin to succeed in capturing Count Zompano, Joshua Bright will fail but be otherwise undetected, and Syre Atries will be killed after being discovered by security. For these three assassins, we will set up threads for you to interact with the malnosso account so we can react to your character’s actions and set up the scenario, leading to their conclusions.
- All volunteers can talk to CJ before the mission for any additional questions they have. He will be unavailable to speak with after that point. What they do at that point is all on them, since he’ll be watching in the audience.

NOTE: Details for the play are still in the work. We’ll have a separate thread dedicated to it to be appended to the log later, which should have all the details you need. We hope to have this ready sometime tonight.



That’s all! For any plotting or questions, please use this post

Comments

[Jack's tent and surrounding environs, either the first night or the second night]

[all7seas]

Much of the evening, Jack will be in his tent, rehearsing to himself -- pacing about -- maybe catching some sleep -- probably also trying on his costume. The dreadlocks have been tamed back for the show; the mustache and beard trimmed considerably. There will be ladies in the audience to charm.

Maybe he will even experiment with glittery eye colorings rather than his usual kohl. Green? Blue? Purple?


Maybe he needs help with this part.

[herotypical]

Part of having a new identity meant avoiding the things your real self would gravitate towards. As such, Buffy had spent a while keeping Jack on the peripherals of her attention. Apart, but never so disconnected that she felt truly vulnerable. But vulnerability was difficult to suppress with such...normal limbs and muscles.

"Knock-knock?" She called from the tent-flaps. Anxious and twice-burned -- triply shy. Their ongoing romantic files made even this small gesture feel like a Big Deal. But the ringmaster had to eat as much as anyone else...and feeding Jack Sparrow under any pseudonym was a strength of hers.

[all7seas]

"Get in here, would you? You're letting in the cold."

All casual words to mask the weakness in Jack Sparrow's knees. He gestured toward the makeshift camp table, upon which was burning an oil lamp. His bedroll lay nearby, along with the trunk that contained his costumes and supplies. That was about it for tent furnishings.

[herotypical]

"Sorry," she grimaced over both the demand and her quick apology. Oh, boy. Was she ever permanently on the back foot. Buffy slipped inside and placed her sad little dish of campfire food on the table. Some sweetcorn. A leg of something that used to be poultry but now it's charred.

"That, uhm, wasn't a thing I meant to do. And it's not even that cold out, Mister, uh..."

Drat. She'd already forgotten his fake name. Did it matter, she wondered? Could they hear them, even in here? Buffy glanced suspiciously at the tent corners and crossed her arms over her bare midriff. While not yet in her acrobat's costume, she was at least dressed like one might expect a travelling bohemian to dress. Minus the stilts, of course.

[all7seas]

"Carnal. Carnal Kipling. You look....

Very nice."

Adorable. Sexy. Gorgeous. Lovely. Incomparable. Romantical.

[herotypical]

"Mister Kipling." She wrinkled her nose and deftly sidestepped his compliments -- spoken and implied. "Kippy, if you will. That's a bit better."

Buffy turned away and touched the brim of the ringmaster's hat. It sat on the table, waiting to be donned. Her brain was still unhelpfully glued to the notion of nicknames. Now even more so when she didn't have any of her own names to cling to -- the real or the given. No, she was someone else. A nomadic acrobat. A Feathered Phenomenal. First name? Orensa. Last name? Non-existent.

Maybe circus-folk and performing troupes didn't need last names.

"Brought you some supper."

[all7seas]

"I can see that. Are you going to join me, Miss...?"

[herotypical]

"Orensa," she supplied the identity so quickly. So hastily. Like she knew that she wasn't selling it well. She knew that simply providing it to a man who should know his troupe in and out was suspicious enough.

Buffy's laughter was forced. "Don't tell me you've gone and forgotten it already."

But it seemed she would indeed join him, for she took a seat at his poor excuse for a table.

[all7seas]

"You lady acrobats; you think I remember one of you from another, day-to-day?"

He sat across from her.

"Though you're right; a curse take my eyes for not recognizing my most beautiful of all. Wine?"

[markofthewise]

Sokka happens to catch a look at Jack's new look as he's walking on by to his own tent. Still dressed in red, sans the hat, Sokka is looking quite a bit different himself. Especially since he doesn't have his hairtie or braid done up.

"Wow. You went all out for this."

[all7seas]

"I always go the exact correct distance out, me. Are you going to grant three wishes for us later?"

The pirate takes a sip of rum and waves the bottle in an amiable way at Sokka. "Where's your clownpaint? Not going to practice putting it on?"

[markofthewise]

The three wishes comment went clear over his head and earned little more than a wrinkled brow. "I'm not wearing clown paint anymore than I have to. There's no way I'm running around like that."

[all7seas]

"Can't say I blame you. Clowns? Get the nose-itch, I'm told. All that caked-on paint. What's your act, eh? What are your plans for the center stage?"

[markofthewise]

"Oh. You know. It's comedy. You can't plan comedy, right?" He had no idea.

[all7seas]

"You haven't planned your comedy."

Oh, son. Son. You must always plan at least SOME of the comedy!

[markofthewise]

"I have a persona. A character. An... idea, for what I'll do. But I work best on my feet. My plans have a tendency to fall apart."

[all7seas]

"Tell me about this -- persona, eh? Just so's I'll know how to introduce you."

[wise_maiden]

The camping grounds, at least, are a more relaxing environment than all of the work going on inside. Raine is out of costume for now, but still in a reasonable disguise, even if the style of clothing looks strange on her. She had been going by the name Sunshine Reinhardt--or Sunny, even, to those who found it a mouthful--though she hopes it doesn't stick too much after all is said and done.

Granted, it might simply be strange enough to even see her there, given how she had looked a week before. She'll be walking between tents, heading back to her own after having a little food. It's been a long day, and she is feeling a bit weary.

[all7seas]

"Mistress Sunshine, darling?" Jack approached her from behind his tent, something steaming in a mug in his hands. "Hallo."

[wise_maiden]

She still wasn't used to being called that name, though the familiar sound of Jack's voice is what gets her to turn around.

"Evening, Mr. Kipling." Something about that felt wrong; almost too formal for a woman named Sunshine. "I hope the day has been going well for you."

[all7seas]

"It has been going extraordinarily well." And Jack, for his part, was speaking in a more affected accent -- more posh than what he normally talked like. More regal flourishes with his hands than he was typically wont to deliver.

He held out the mug to her. "Soup?"

[wise_maiden]

"That sounds wonderful." Though she affords the ring master a casual, side glance. "Nothing extra, is there?" Better. More relaxed-sounding. Teasing-like.

[all7seas]

"Nothing you'll regret in the morning, no. Though if you want regrets, my tent is right over there."

[wise_maiden]

"I believe I'll pass on the regret, thank you. That would be incredibly counterproductive."

[all7seas]

"So I always say: never regret, if you can help it. Always have toast with peanut butter, though. That's something else I always say. Would you like some?"