lucetilogs | Mission # 9 - Festival at Rataneran Keep

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Mission # 9 - Festival at Rataneran Keep

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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That's just the kind of care and concern for your underlings we've all come to love and respect, boss."

Her half-laugh was unstrung. Wary. But she pulled at the coat's lapels and wore it like a cape. Immediately, she felt the tightness in her stomach dissipate and she reclaimed some of that courage won on her silks.

"I've got to go. The next act and all...." He looked around for the tie and hat. Time to be on for the crowd again.

"A good ringmaster, eh? Looks after his troupe."

Edited 2012-08-22 01:09 (UTC)

Buffy couldn't tie a tie but she could place a hat. So while he did the former, she did the latter -- still clutching at the coat's edges with one hand.

"You'll be back...?"

It wasn't the fairest thing to ask. After all, she'd as good as rebuffed him every time they'd run into each other on this mission. Rebuffed him and then in the same breath backed him into a come see me again corner. Her signals were well and truly all over the place.

"Always. Always. You're beautiful. You were perfect. So proud of you, me." Jack reached down to kiss her hand before taking his leave: surely that would not be amiss.

Beautiful and perfect were words she'd learned to expect from Sparrow's lips. And although she didn't doubt that he believed them, they'd always come so easily. So frequently. Anyone else would have to be lying, right?

But proud was more of a rarity. She slipped that one away in her memory as a thing to truly savour once he was gone and back to work. So pleased with it was she that the hand-kiss wasn't even flinched at. She allowed it.

"Go knock their socks off."

Socks were knocked, but the rest of the set that night featured a ringmaster whose attention was not wholly on his work. Oh, he performed without a hitch. He made them laugh; he made them gasp; he made the weaker acts seem more amazing than they actually were and he made the strong acts shine like silver in the footlights.

But Jack's mind was on a lithe slayer dangling from pink silks, her soft red feathers spread behind her. Angel. Angel.

Finally, once the play was in full swing, Jack found a place backstage to watch. He found it eerie to see these characters played out before him by such familiar faces. And Law, as the General....

Eerie.

Suddenly, she was at his elbow and she was speaking in a taut whisper. Buffy was no longer in the sleek white one-piece but back into her casual hi, I'm Orensa outfit. His ringmaster's coat was folded over her arm.

"...I told him to play it like he's the victor. Like he's going to get exactly what he wants."

Death.

She didn't know how she knew it, but she was dead certain that they were both thinking about Law's performance at the very same time. The final scene -- the death scene -- was hours off but it was stuck firmly in the front of her mind.

"We don't have to watch." Jack touched the small of her back with gentle pressure, acknowledging her words. He doubted this was something she would WANT to watch.

"We could go check on the ant traps, maybe?"

"I'd be down for that."

Buffy sank back against his touch. One-two-three seconds and she was moving. Turning away and slipping behind a temporary curtain that had been set up just for today. It covered a bare hallway lit with too many candles for comfort. Its length smelled like low quality wax.

"So, Orensa," the pirate continued coolly as he followed her. "You think he'll heed your advice? Our General?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps it doesn't matter. They're all going to cheer at the wrong parts, anyway."

Buffy's pace finally slowed near the corridor's end. It was a little T-intersection of stone hallways. "Left or right?"

Jack peered down the left-hand passage. A downward-sloping hall disappeared into darkness. It smelled funny, somehow. Iron. Iron and rust and....something sharp, like smelling salts. Clinical. Odd. Echoing and odd.

Next he craned his head to the right -- a slight upward sloped passage. Torches and candles lit this way, which had rich carpets and tapestries ornamenting it. Odd stains, though, were sometimes poorly-hidden by carpets. By tapestries. Music seemed to be piped through a hidden sound system: violins. Was that an oboe? It smelled...

Funny. Like meat that was turning.

Odd.

"I don't like either way."

Jack Sparrow pulled out his compass, knowing full well that it would be a compromise between what was safest for Buffy and what would be the most fruitful source of information. He reached for her as the needle wavered. "Stand near me, my darling -- we'll get a better reading that way."

"Left," she voiced her choice and quietly pre-empted the compass even while she grabbed onto his hand. Buffy squeezed his fingers under hers. Hard. Very hard. One might even thing she was squeezing about as hard as she possibly could.

"I trust you," he murmured, leaving it in her hands. Closing and pocketing the compass and leaving it to Buffy Summers. He didn't squeeze back. "Shall I go first?"

Traps -- unpleasantness. He expected it; this wasn't a part of the fortress they were meant to be in.

"Yes."

Wait. That wasn't right.

"No! Absolutely not. Nuh-uh. Nope. I'll blaze that trail."

So Buffy -- interested in Jack's safety above her own even now -- took a wide stride forward. Tugging him along. "There's supposed to be secret stairway, this way. I think? What'd that guy say, uhm..."

"Secret stairway." Jack tried to forcibly put her behind him. He wasn't interested in such heroics. "Not secret, is it? Not if we know about it."

And Buffy tried shoving him back and reclaiming the first pole position but...that didn't work out so well. His ability to forcibly put her anywhere was the current winner. Her struggle was valiant but it also quite readily pointed out exactly why doing this with him was the best idea.

"Okay. Formerly secret. Secret up until the point me and P--" Crap. What was Pepper's fake name? "One of the singers learned about it."

Jack stopped, then. Considered. He didn't like the shoving. This was Buffy, after all. He stepped to the side.

"If you learned it? You've earned it. Side by side, then.

Warily. Savvy? Could be...trappy things."

Pre-performance, she would have meekly fallen in line behind a knight in shining armour. But she had gumption, now. She felt capable. So side-by-side was entirely acceptable. Welcomed, in fact.

"Trappy things," she agreed. "Or...security. Jeez. What do we say if we run into security?"

"I'm taking you off to marry you in secret."

That was a joke. A sad one, but a joke nonetheless.

"Shh -- you hear that?"

"That works," she said with no protest at all. Her agreement was ruthless, really. But soon overpowered by her attempt to hear whatever it was that Jack had heard.

Her head tilted. And -- aha. Was that a thing? A thing to be heard? Maybe. She looked up at him in the flickering candlelight with a questioning glance.

Is that it?

Ahead of them, a rat scuttled across the corridor and vanished into a crack.

Maybe that was all it had been....

He looked back down at her, taking in green eyes in torchlight. Jack was liking this expedition less and less.

"Sounded like...sounded like a large balloon running out of air. Slowly."

"...I think there's a large balloon in act one, scene four."

Buffy was liking the expedition more and more. Maybe she wasn't currently as cut out for it as she ought to be but dammit, it felt righter. It felt more like her element. She knew what to watch for. She knew how to hold herself.

"What the hell do they need THAT for?!" His nerves were certainly making themselves apparent. Jack was excellent at getting himself out of spaces like this. Others? Well.

He hadn't perfected that, yet.

A shrug. "Science, I guess."

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