Lunar Interlude 4 — corporate retreat

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I have a feeling that you'll find the next few weeks a little... in-tents. NAVIGATION 1. NEW RECLAIMERS A. WELCOME WAGON For those of you who will be arriving today, the story is the same: though you may not remember it, there was a moment where you were living out your life, at home or wherever you were ... and then there was the moment the Hunger came. And amid the television static that is your memory of that moment, a hand reached out to you, beckoning your escape as the tendrils of darkness destroyed everything that ever existed about your world. "Would you hurry this up, please? Your world no longer stands a chance. Come with me, we are the last bastions of hope for all universes everywhere. And we're going to need you." And then, unceremoniously, you are dragged through the universal wringer and plopped down on the soft, though not quite cushioned, grass of the Moon Base Quad. You're not alone, either. Along with the newest members of the Bureau, in a fashion probably not unlike this, there are people waiting here for you. People who wanted to see the heroes the Director has managed to bring in this time. People who are excited to see what you're capable of. You have a few minutes to talk with each other — or maybe lob a few questions at the impromptu welcoming committee, or any of the older Reclaimers who may happen to be nearby. But before long, you're whisked away to a different area of the Moon Base. B. THE VOIDFISH You are quickly divided into four groups, and brought to the easternmost geodesic dome, to an elevator in a well maintained, but sparsely landscaped field. There's nothing particularly ominous feeling about the space — in fact, the two guards who greet you at the elevator entrance seem pleased with your arrival. You are, after all, one of the few chosen by the Director, the few who will reclaim what the Hunger has destroyed. And in a few moments, you're about to find that out for yourself. After a tightly packed elevator ride, your group is ushered out to a rather grand looking hall, banners of the Bureau of Balance adorn both sides of smooth metal walls. And inside the Voidfish's chamber stands a tank — impossibly tall, and soaked in a black ink that obscures whatever the tank may be holding. You may notice a melody, someone playing the violin. It's a bard, on his fourth round of introducing Reclaimers to the Voidfish. When he's finished, he pulls out a few pieces of paper — sheet music — opens a drawer at the bottom of the tank, drops the papers in, and shuts it. And swiftly, you feel as if there's something you can't just shake off about the melody you just heard. If you seem alarmed, the bard takes notice of it. "Yeah, man, like... don't think too hard about it, it's like that every time. I'm guessing you're here to be inoculated? Just a heads up, you might want to, like, seriously, hold your nose while you drink it down. It tastes wicked gross, man." You sort of get the sense that he's said this speech once or twice in the past. It's well rehearsed, much like the stories you'd expect a bard to be able to recite. "Anyway, I'm supposed to tell you that you have a choice. If you drink the black stuff, you'll be able to hear through the, uh... Huh, how do I describe it? Through the [TSHCSCHTSHCHSC] sound. You guys like, hear that? Anyway, it's all about knowledge or something. I don't know, I'm just here to, like, feed the thing. We call it the [TSCHHSCHSCH], by the way. So, like. You get a choice. You can drink it and understand stuff, or not drink it and then hear that crackling noise all day every day. If I were you, I'd drink it. But, hey man, I'm not like, your dad or anything." The bard takes five cups and draws liquid from a spigot connected directly to the basin of the large tank. Stormy, muddy looking ichor is drawn into them, one by one. He offers each of you a sip. Drink it (he wasn't kidding about what it tasted like), and you're inoculated to the wisdom of the Voidfish. You try to remember the song this bard played a few moments ago and the melody, the meter, every octave, all come back to you. And if you think back to your arrival, some of the things you may have heard other people in the Quad say, that simply sounded like static, are suddenly clear. Bureau of Balance. Grand Relic. Reclaimers. Yet you still can't remember the Hunger or what it had done to your world. And as you look back to the tank in front of you, the water has become clear. There's a jellyfish, as tall as a building, floating within. You look into the body of the creature and you can almost make out a beautiful, tiny universe floating within it. 2. TEST OF INITIATION You're given approximately 48 hours to sign up for the test of initiation. Outside the Arena is a command console where you can push your biometric signature up against the device, pick a time, and get prepare to take your entrance exam. This one is a little different than the ones before it; the Director has posed a group challenge among her hopeful Reclaimers. One slot contains blank names for four people altogether. Two of them are backlit in a blue background, two in red. It looks like you're going to be competing against other Reclaimers. At the appointed time, you'll enter the arena's chambers and fill out into one of two rooms. You and your teammate will be allowed to dress and prepare accordingly. From the window, you can see a single, solitary mountain that rises so high you can barely make odds or ends of the peak. An array of items stands before you, four in total. You can only choose two, as the second both of you claim one item, the other two become translucent and untouchable. Placing either of your items back on their pedestals makes them corporeal again. All in all, you have: ○ Booster boots - aids you in climbing and scaling the mountain, quadrupling your jump speed ○ Spiked boots - when landing on a surface of the mountain, it magically locks into place and prevents you from falling or being otherwise deterred in moving upward ○ An enchanted cloth - you're not sure what this is capable of, but if you try it out a little bit, you'll realize it resists the push of air. Essentially, a portable hang glider ○ Grappling hook - standard issue, its reach is about 50 feet. When it locks onto a surface, it's impossible to remove unless a button is pressed on the device to loosen it Both of your teams must make it to the top. What awaits you there is a wand, standing on an intricately carved, raised dais. The base is made out of stone, but written in very clear, etched letters around the bottom are the words: THE GRAND RELIC, WAND OF PLANAR DISPLACEMENT. Does it sound too good to be true? Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. You need to get that relic back down to the entrance room. The caveat here is if you happen to be tempted, and let's face it, the easy way out is always rather appealing, you can try to use it. It'll take you back down, easily enough, but the wand will not come with you. Looks like you're going to have to trek your way back up there. Either way, the first team to make it down wins the contest. What's the prize, you ask? Gloating rights, mostly. 3. THE REAL CAMPY FUN BEGINS As The Director mentioned, you will be spending this month on a corporate retreat! And she wasn't kidding when she said she said this retreat will be an exercise in working together. Shortly after the newest Reclaimers are all good and initiated, and shortly after the rest of you have packed what you can, you're all whisked away to Gwynneth — a beautifully lush forest on the Moonshae Isles. Blanketed in a canopy of lush greens and soft, comfortable grass that seems to grow even in the farthest corners where the light can't reach, the forest looks and feels like something out of a storybook. A peculiar, but not unpleasant, scent that is a blend of sweet olives and cherry blossoms wafts throughout the forest no matter where you turn. That is to say, for those of you who have been in the Bureau for the while, and are used to roughing it with your BIAS: Welcome! This should be roughly old hat for some of you. Not far from the clearing where you all land are two perfectly lined rows of cabins that are in particularly bad shape. On the door frame of each will contain some information... and you might have guessed it. "BARBARIANS," "FIGHTERS," "PALADINS," "DANCERS," "MONKS," "RANGERS & ROGUES," "BARDS," "SORCERERS," "WARLOCKS," "DRUIDS," "CLERICS," and "SMART PEOPLE." - you get the idea. Each cabin will have just the essentials (creaky bunk beds, chests at the foot of each, and a few spare desks per room). Rest assured, the Director's enchanted the cabins to reject entry to anyone who doesn't fit the proper description that's labeled above each door. You will... most likely have to clean the place up prior to habitation. Showering, toilets, and mirrors are communal, but divided into stalls in the administrative cabin, adjunct to the Bureau's cabin. And for those of you who don't fit into any of the above (hi Lucas), uh, well. There's an old shack close to where you were dropped off, but you probably don't want to stay inside for too long. It smells like something died in there — and maybe something did. And boy, does this whole trip have "campy corporate retreat" written all over it. When you arrive, you're informed that your "mission" here, so to speak, is to safely make it through the month's activities, including the penultimate task: Braving what staff is only referring to as the Tomb of Horrors. But we'll get to that later. Right now, you've got some camping activities to do. C. GET IN LOSERS WE'RE GOING CAMPING If there's a camp activity that you can think of, we guarantee that there is space set aside for it, and that a Bureau member The Director brought along to assist the Reclaimers is helping to run it. Here are a few of the more prominent activities to get you started, however: ○ Fight Club/Struggle Tourney/Whatever you want to call it: For those of you who are in clear need of more training, or simply like getting yourself into a good strife, a small arena has been squared and roped off for your said strifing convenience. You can sign up in pairs or go mano a mano against one opponent, but there's a catch. This activity is about improvising, and learning your fellow Reclaimers' fighting styles — an absolute must for when you're out on the field in the thick of a battle. You will only be allowed to use fighting ring issued weapons. A magical barrier will knock your regular weapon right out of your hands if you try to enter the ring with it! And, I mean. Who wouldn't want to fight with these Fantasy Costco exclusives? (Note: If you want to join an actual Fight Club, the magic barrier is down for two hours starting at midnight. Use that information how you will.) ○ Arts and Crafts: Another camping given. Stretched out between two large evergreens is an equally large canvas, though short enough that every Reclaimer should be able to reach. You'll be given a paintbrush — magic, of course, according to the Bureau member helping out with this activity. It magically fills itself with paint, allowing you to add color to the canvas without the need for a palette. Because curiously, it seems you're capable of painting in only one color. And more curiously, it's a color that's very unique to you: no other Reclaimer is going to have the same hex value as what's flowing out of your paintbrush. If you ask her, the Bureau member will smile somewhat pensively, and explain: That paintbrush allows you to paint in the color of whatever energy you're giving off right now. Take this with a grain of salt, of course, but the basic hues can be interpreted as follows: Red can mean that you have a problem that you need to solve. Yellow means there's a secret that you're keeping from someone important to you. Green elicits a feeling of calmness, but there's something else that you're not allowing yourself to address. Blue means there's something you need to confess, whether it's the fact that you have a crush on someone, or the fact that you stole something or told a lie. White means, simply, an energy at peace. Of course, you may find yourself painting in any color out there — and they may represent something else, depending on you specifically. Use this prompt however you'd like! And, that's not to say that these are all things that we need to sit down around the campfire and hash out — though that's an activity later on if you want it! These energies aren't necessarily a bad thing either. It wouldn't be much of a painting, you wouldn't be the person you've grown into right now, if you're always painting in white. ○ Ghost stories: Speaking of campfires, every night, you'll be invited to have a seat at a large campfire and to try to tell your best ghost story. Not too far away from the campfire are four busts of wizardly looking men and women on pedestals. Yes, they are haunted by the very same wizardly looking men and women. And yes, they will be offering frank commentary on whatever story you decide to tell. I'm just gonna leave this here. ○ Field Day: What's a camping trip without the likes of potato sack races, music, tye-dye booths like you'd find at the typical spring fair, and friendly games of capture the flag? If you find this whole field day thing a little bit childish, then, well ... yeah, you're probably right! But even stuffy old people like Lucretia know that the people even stuffier than she is need a chance to cut loose once in a while. So go right ahead and get yourself a fried charisma oreo. There's a dunking booth, by the way. Yes, you can dunk the Director if you want. You might bump into Lucas while you're here. He is having pretty much the worst month right now: sunburned, blown up on histamines and more than ready to go back to the Moon Base where there's air conditioning and technology. ○ Man eff that: If the campy camp activities are a bit too campy for you, then The Director certainly isn't going to twist your arm into participating. Well, actually, she might. A little? In any case, if you're hellbent on boycotting, you might join Lucas in the aforementioned Smelly Shack, as he tinkers with the tech he managed to bring with him and is generally a pain in the ass about having to be out in the forest. Saru and his band of kitsune, if you remember them from Vista Virs, now full-fledged members of the Bureau, will take you on hunting trips if you're interested. If you need to actually learn how to hunt, then Carey and Killian are here to help. If you're still gonna be a stick in the corporate retreat mud, then the Director might ask you to clear as big of a path to the Tomb of Horrors as possible (Note: You will not be able to go inside, or find a way inside the Tomb of Horrors, no matter how hard you try. This isn't Breath of the Wild, sadly, you can't defeat Ganon right after falling off the Great Plateau). It's about five miles directly to the east, and behind the thickest and densest part of the forest. Who knows what else you'll find out there? Have fun! D. AN OVERNIGHT SENSATION One more thing. Something strange is happening overnight, while everyone is asleep, whether it's in their bedrolls, or holed up in the Smelly Shack. Something — or someone seems to be draping a blanket of magic over the entire camp, leaving those who were asleep rather susceptible to it. You may find yourself afflicted with any number of inconvenient status effects for the day, whether it's a burn on your arm you can't seem to heal, more, uh. Well. More sleep. You blink, and suddenly, 24 hours have passed. Maybe you enter a 2v2 in the fighting ring and suddenly realize you can't tell friend from foe — even though you'd agreed on the teams before entering. Maybe all the food suddenly loses its flavor, leaving you to marvel at how intense textures suddenly are. If you happened to be painting in blue, maybe you're suddenly compelled to blurt it out to the next unfortunate soul who passes. It's a smorgasbord of minor inconveniences. Almost like something's spotted the corporate retreat, and has decided to use its participants as their plaything. But what? blurb code by photosynthesis

Comments

[grakraka]

[At this point, Akechi just assumes whoever talks to him will have to hear something from him and he just has to hope it isn't anything too bad to the wrong person. He did try to leave but such bad, cursed luck followed him that he took it as a sign that if he just sticks this out and finishes his stupid painting, then maybe the curse will lift or something. He doesn't know. He is just rolling with it.

So when Shinji talks to him, Akechi is already resigned that he'll say something during it. Might as well talk.]

I believe that it comes from a theory of 'auras', although I'm not sure that is what she actually means. It's the idea that people have a 'colour' around them that could be seen by spiritual types depending on the emotional state of the person in question. [Like usual, it seems fine at the start, but he continues because he wants to get it over with.] In this case, the colours we use to paint here mean something about the state of our being. For example, you might have noticed no two people have the exact same shade, though sometimes similar ones. I imagine someone well-versed in colour theory could dive deeper on this or form a better theory. As for myself, I am a murderer that should die.

[Ah, there it is. Akechi raises his eyebrows as he pauses his painting for a moment, as if he also just heard his own words.]

Hm. Well, at least that one isn't too shocking, probably.

[petsthedog]

[That is a lot of words about auras and colors, but Shinji supposes he did ask. It's not uninteresting, either, but he wouldn't know the first thing about color theory or even how colors might be supposed to represent his emotions--he always feels kind of low-key shitty, but that's become such a constant background hum that he doesn't even really register it as a feeling.

He's about to comment something to the effect of not being sure he's feeling anything in particular, and maybe some grumbling about how all the magical bullshit around here should come with an instruction manual, but then Akechi gets to that last sentence, and Shinjiro stops short. It's that sort of thing that isn't shocking shocking, in the sense that the first time he ever saw this kid was when he attacked Arisato back in his first ever combat class with Qrow, but it's also not what you expect to happen amidst a perfectly pleasant start to a conversation.

Which means it's magic, again. Having very recently been similarly afflicted with a magic apple that had him craving for intimacy and emotional honesty, he also knows that trying to change the subject won't help. Leaving might prevent much further embarrassment, but it'd feel vaguely uneven in the face of Akechi's confession.

Shinjiro gingerly puts the paintbrush down, in case it's the source of this unfortunate business, and rubs at his neck as he looks at Akechi, trying to figure out what to say.]

...I uh, I can relate. Sorta.

[Manslaughter, as opposed to actual murder, of course. He has a hard time feeling like the distinction is particularly important when he's deep in his own self-loathing, but he knows there is one, and that he'll have to specify if they get into it. But not yet.]

[grakraka]

[Shinji is wise to distrust the paintbrush. Technically is isn't at fault but who knows around this place. Akechi glances at him and tilts his head, a little surprised. Then again knowing all of their friends? It isn't that surprising. A totally normal person would be way more shocking.]

Ah. Well, neither of those are particular fun to relate to, so my condolences. You don't seem like a murderer to me, though. Your demeanor isn't what I would expect.

[He seems more "depressed but kind" and not "dead inside or cruel".]

[petsthedog]

Yours ain't either, y'know.

[If it hadn't been for that initial incident, he'd probably have a very different sense of the guy. He rubs at his neck, looking off to the side, uncomfortable. He's told a few people about this by now, and it's difficult every time. He always feels like his throat is closing up around the words.]

It--it wasn't exactly murder. I just. Fucked up.

[Even now, that doesn't feel like the truth. Not with Amada's voice still in his ears, a track on endless repeat, whenever he so chooses to tune in--you murdered her!]

[grakraka]

[Even though he can tell this is a struggle for Shinji, he can't help but be curious with that wording.]

So legally manslaughter? An accident? I can see why the distinction might be difficult to make when your actions, in some way, led to a life being lost but I do think it's an important one.

[petsthedog]

[Shinjiro flinches. He'd gone through the question of legality with Qrow once, when the man had sought to make a point about Shinjiro's claims that he should've been punished. He doesn't feel any more open to the thought experiment now than before.]

Legally nothin', Dark Hour deaths got covered up.

[His shoulders lift and fall uncomfortably; he doesn't want this to become about comparing what they've done, after all. He only spoke up at all because it didn't sound like Akechi had given up that information willingly.]

Anyway, there ain't much difference to the dead person.

[grakraka]

[That makes sense to him. It operates on the same basic principles as the Metaverse, as far as he can tell, so it makes sense that it would be easy to cover up deaths with it.]

There is a difference to the living. Perhaps not always to the immediate affected parties but to the people around you, there certainly is a difference. [Mildly, as he tucks back some of his hair:] The dead don't care about much of anything, because they are in fact dead. They don't care that they are dead or if you feel guilty or if you feel happy, so using them as a ruler is rather flawed.

[petsthedog]

[Something about it gets his hackles up immediately. The same tired old words seem to play through his head--it wasn't your fault, Shinji, when are you going to move on?]

Bullshit. Getting someone killed means taking away their future. All the hopes and dreams and everything they had, the shit they wanted to do, wanted to see. Or even just the day-to-day shit. That's all on you, whether you meant to or not.

[He exhales, and there's anger there, but not at Akechi. It's clear he's struggled with this a very long time.]

Look, I ain't here to patronize you and act like I know exactly how you feel. It's different, I get it. I just don't think the difference matters that much. Dead's dead, in the end.

[grakraka]

[Breathing out a laugh, he smiles to himself as he twirls his paintbrush. To him, the difference is rather crucial but he supposes someone who has not actually murdered wouldn't understand it or perhaps want to understand it. It isn't really a bad thing in his mind—he wouldn't want Shinji to understand the difference.]

Very well, if you insist. We can agree to disagree on the quandary of intentions. I've killed, though. Murder in every sense of the word, legal and ethical. The clarification is important enough to me to insist on it, the way yours is important to you.

[petsthedog]

[He scowls slightly at the laugh; it rubs him wrong in a way, makes him feel like yet another person thinks his feelings are unreasonable, like his role that woman's death matters less because he hadn't harmed her intentionally, even though Amada's life was still ruined.]

Fine, whatever. I didn't "murder" anyone, call it what you want instead.

[He lets out a sharp exhale, trying to release his frustration, and mutters under his breath--]

Ugh. I fuckin' hate magic.

[grakraka]

Magic generally leads to ruin. We've certainly seen that here and I'm sure you've seen your share of struggles with it, too. I don't think Personas are granted to people who are well-off.

[Not mentally, at least. He is almost positive they're all messed up. A rich person could get a Persona though. He has seen plenty of insane people with money.]

You don't have to talk about it with me, though. I do hope you know that? I mean it. I'm not a very good person... [A pause as he tilts his head, frowning.] ...well, in general, but especially for this. My views became warped a long time ago, so you really don't have to comfort me.

[petsthedog]

[He's never really thought of his Persona as magic, honestly, but given his experiences here....he supposes it counts, in a way. But there's an irony to Akechi's observation; before what happened with Castor, he never felt like he was that messed up. The orphanage wasn't great, sure, and losing Miki in that fire had been tough, even if he wasn't the one related to her by blood, but -- he'd still believed in that promise he made with Aki for a long time. Right up until that day where a woman lay crushed under a building and taken his spirit along with it, he'd believed in that goal. Being strong enough to do what's right.]

I ain't a good person either. Murder or not, I don't got any place judgin' anybody. [He shrugs] But I'm shit at comfort, anyway. So it's fine if you want me to take off or if you wanna try to wear out the rest of this paint curse bullshit on someone who ain't gonna ask questions.

[grakraka]

It's fine if it's you or if you ask questions. I really don't mind your company at all. You're rather different from the types of people I usually talk to so it's interesting to me to hear you speak.

[He actually means this sincerely, too. Shinji, to him, is a rather unique type of person.]

[petsthedog]

Interesting, huh. I dunno 'bout that.

[He rather feels like he's not a sort of person worth bothering with at all. Nonetheless, one hand raises to rub at his neck.]

Anyway. I just meant, if this curse shit is like the one I went through before, the talkin' is just gonna keep on goin' no matter what, so. [He rolls a shoulder]

Figure it'd be easier with someone who ain't interested in pryin'. But it's up to you what you wanna talk about, if anything.