Opening Night (1/2)

There was always a second of worry, when entering a new dungeon. Especially one that was controlled by a foe. From what Threadbare had studied of Graves' dungeon research, dungeon bosses couldn't just put an instant deathtrap at the entrance. The dungeons seemed to desire to draw things in reasonably far before murder happened. Which was why most of them put the easy stuff up front and saved the boss for last.

That said, there were a number of other tricks that a knowledgeable dungeon user could pull off, and as Threadbare looked around he saw, without a lot of surprise, that he was alone.

So, he turned around and walked out of the dungeon.

There was a bit of a shuffle and a few bumps as his friends materialized around him.

“Okay, I'm glad we talked this through beforehand,” Cagna said once she was back in the proper reality. “We're going to need to bag up or buddy up if we want to tackle this as a group.”

“Let's bag it. I'll whisper Madeline,” Threadbare offered. “Wind's Whisper Madeline, I'm sorry, but could you drop your Merchant's Pack down? We'll need it.”

There was a flapping of heavy wooden wings, and the group made way as the dragon descended.

“Oh, you didn't need to come all the way down,” Celia said, but Madeline ignored her for the moment, pushing her head towards Threadbare.

“You can decree stuff to Garon. Can ya check in and see how it's goan?”

“I can. But I imagine he's very busy right now,” Threadbare said. “Are you sure you want the words showing up and possibly distracting him at a very, very bad time?”

It had been a hard decision to make, as Garon had repeated his decree several times. But the group had concluded that they were too far away, and there was nothing they could do. They had but a pair of Castle Cylvania waystones between them, and the castle might be compromised. No, they had to go deal with the source of the problem here and hope that Garon could handle matters in Cylvania.

Madeline gritted her teeth so hard she damaged herself, a red '6' floating up into the sky. Sparks danced around her mouth, and finally she looked away. “Gahds damn it.”

“I know,” Thomasi said. “Trust in him. We'll do our part.”

“I had to ask,” Madeline sighed. “Raht. Let's wrap this up fahst.” She winged back to the sky without another word.

They chose Celia for the entry. And this time, given the nature of the place, she suited up in full Steam Knight gear. The rest piled into the bag, with Anne and Jean the last in, shooting each other suspicious glares as they were tucked into the relatively small room.

It was a long moment, as they readied to be drawn out of the sack...

POP!

With a ripping, tearing noise, they were dumped onto the ground, bouncing off each other. Anne managed to tuck and roll out of the scrum, but Zuula, Threadbare, Thomasi, Fluffbear, and Jean ended up in a heap on the floor.

“Oh fump it!” Celia's slightly amplified voice came from her armor's visor, as she pointed at a statue of a dapper rabbit in a tuxedo. The statue was holding a cane, and the ball on the end of it was sparkling with the aftereffect of a spell. “The second I showed up, that cane flashed, and well...” she dug in the pile, helped Threadbare to his feet as the others sorted themselves out.

“Targeted dispel magic, by the looks o' it,” Anne said, glancing around. “Hit that trick in a few dungeons. S'why ye don't spend a lot of time buffing up outside first.”

Threadbare looked to Celia. “Are your buffs still active?”

“The armor's running, so yeah. Nothing disrupted the magitech systems.”

“Then it was specifically set to dispel the pack.” Threadbare nodded. “Nobody's a Merchant, are they? Can we replace the Pack of Holding if we need to?”

Thomasi half raised a hand. “I'm not a Merchant, but I do have a Ringmaster ability to carry a circus along with me. But it's not ideal for a number of reasons.”

“Maybe we don't be talking about dis here and now,” Zuula said, as she started whacking the statue to bits with the haft of her spear. “Rabbits be known for long ears. He might be listenin'.”

“Or watching,” Fluffbear squeaked. “This place looks very cluttered; I'm sure there's lots of places to hide!”

Threadbare turned and surveyed the room.

It WAS cluttered. Boxes and crates and furniture and ladders were strewn about the curved chamber. Uncommon things such as stuffed lions, statues, and gilded chariots were side by side with mundanities like paint buckets and rolls of cloth and chaise lounges. Threadbare was a bit minded of the mimic mimics in the Rumpus Room riot and poked the nearest couch just to be sure it wasn't going to jump on him.

One side of the room was solid, dark wood, and the other was cut off by a massive, curving wall of cloth, and from under it seeped a flickering light. A curtain, Threadbare realized. Then it clicked. They were on a stage, and the curtain was down.

Moreover, from just beyond it, he could hear the sound of feet tromping down padded steps, the rustle of clothing as people pushed past each other to settle in seats, and the low but rising hubbub of conversation.

“Doesn't sound like too many out there yet,” Anne whispered, cocking the hammer of a pistol. “We could burst out o' these curtains and send 'em to hell afore the show even gets started.”

“There's no other exits that I can see,” Celia said, swiveling left and right and playing her armor's glowstone lanterns over the sides of the chamber. “Maybe something beyond the clutter, but I don't know if we have the time to dig.”

“We do not,” Jean said. “This is the training ground.”

Six pairs of eyes turned toward her, and she swallowed hard. “We are both actors and spies, and this is the place where we learn.”

“Ye didn't say a thing about this before we went in.”

“We are brought here blindfolded! I did not know it was a dungeon, or where we would be going next. This is his domain. I see only what he shows me.”

Wood tapped against metal.

“The orchestra is about to start!” Jean said, taking a step back and going pale in the dim light. “And we haven't even chosen a play yet!”

“I think you should explain. Quickly,” Celia said, stomping up to stand by her side.

Jean nodded and pointed to the clutter. “Search the piles, quickly. There should be a velvet pouch among them, with cards in it. This is how we learned our stagecraft! We would combine cards and have to perform a play or a musical based on which cards were chosen.”

“Okay, the last one was fun, I won't be denyin' that,” said Anne. “But I left me whip on the ship, and there ain't no time to practice showtunes.”

“It's very much an improvisation,” Jean said. “The cards just determine the set, the props, and what happens during the show.”

“I found them!” Thomasi said, holding up a purple velvet pouch and peeling it open to reveal black-backed, gold-chased cards. “And oh dear.”

“Oh dear?” Fluffbear squeaked.

“These are Fortuna cards.” he turned them over to reveal colorful images of warriors, clerics, rogues, wizards, and various monsters and scenes. “And we don't have Chase with us.”

“Fortuna cards?” Threadbare said, moving closer and hopping up on a crate to peer at them. “I don't know what those are.”

“Zuula do,” said the half-orc puppet, hopping up on the other side of the crate. “Dey be used to tell de future. Like ten of rogues means dis, knight of clerics means dat.”

Something rustled in the back of Threadbare's mind. “Could you say that again, please?”

“Ten of rogues means dis, knight of clerics means dat.”

A horn sounded outside, joined by other instruments as the orchestra swelled to life.

“We are running out of time!” Jean said, glancing from the cards to the curtain. “You must choose six! Two together, and four around them in each direction. That will determine the play.”

“And if we don't?” Anne asked, glaring.

“Then we are at the mercy of the Fandom of the Lop Ear.”

“Aren't we going to have to face him regardless?” Celia asked.

“No, not the Phantom. The FANDOM. The audience loves him, every last one, and they will turn on us if we do not entertain them.”

“Any six in a storm,” Thomasi said and started to pull...

...and Threadbare leaned up and put his paw on the man's hand. “Wait. Let me check something, please. “Wind's Whisper Renny, is there a fortuna card called a R.D. Boss? What does it look like?”

After a moment, the tension in the group rising as the music played a merry tune, the reply came back.

“This is Cagna,” a puff of wind in his ear told him. “Renny says what you're looking for is the Raidboss, and yes, it's a card. It'll look a big scary monster with bunches of people fighting it. What do you...”

The rest of her message faded, as she hit the limits of her skill, but it was enough.

Because Threadbare remembered where he'd seen six strange words in a very similar configuration before.

INT+1

“Dig out the following cards and hand them to me please,” he said, recalling the tiny scratches under the bunk where Chase and the rest had been kept captive for a few weeks. “The Raidboss, the Four C. L... probably clerics, the two of wizards... rev, whatever that means. Then the nine of rogues, the knight of rogues, and the king of rogues.”

Thomasi handed them over one by one, as the others spread out to give them cover. And just as the instruments in the orchestra started to go silent one by one, finishing out their pieces and heralding the end of the song, Threadbare took the last card, then started arranging them as Jean pointed out the positions.

The last few notes hung in the air as the final card hit the stage floor, and with a snap, purple and gold energy traced out runes on the floor, spiraling and reaching like fast-growing tree roots into the pile of props and the surrounding parts of the stage.

The last flute's final pipings hung in the air as time seemed to slow, and the props shuffled and resorted themselves as plates in the floor moved items out, and pulleys and ropes lowered things from the darkness that filled the area above the stage.

And as Threadbare and his friends watched, the mechanisms began to build a scene.

A backdrop rolled down behind the props, showing a landscape full of heavily-brushed hills and fields and strange castles that were very pointy, of a style Threadbare had never seen before.

“Chinese? Asian?” Thomasi mused, so quietly that Threadbare thought only he had heard it. Well, Jean perhaps too, as her ear twitched, and she shot the human a look.

Reedy flutes started playing in the orchestra, followed by a twangy instrument. It was pleasant music to listen to, but it was different from any music Threadbare had heard before. It was in no hurry to get to the end of its song, and it was almost gentle, like the wind itself was singing.

“Definitely Chinese,” Thomasi said, a bit louder.

A papier-mâché sun lowered on a rope from on high, and lights in the flooring of the stage flared to life.

And with a rustling noise, long crooks extruded from the darkened wings of the stage and stretched toward the small group of friends.

BANG!

Correction: the small group of friends, and one very trigger-happy pirate who was having none of being hooked at the moment, thank you very much.

“Stage Whisper,” Jean said, and her next words were loud in their ears despite the fact she was still whispering. “No, just let it happen!” she said, holding her arms up and letting herself be dragged along the polished planks. “We need to be off stage to start this!”

Zuula, Thomasi, and Fluffbear shrugged at each other and went with the crooks.

Celia left some serious gouges in the floor as she went. Steam Knight suits weren't meant to be dragged.

Threadbare walked back toward the direction the crooks were going, and it kept pace with him but didn't touch him.

And Anne, glowering at the charred stump that had been a crook before it had caught a pistol bullet, eventually sauntered over to join the others just as the music quieted, and the curtain began to part, revealing a vast theater, with rows stretching back into darkness. And each and every seat was filled.

“That many?” Anne muttered.

“The fandom is vast, but now that I know it is a dungeon, it is most likely dungeon tricks,” Jean specified. “But they are fearsome if you lose the goodwill of the crowd. We must put on a good show!”

And a rich, deep voice spoke from somewhere above, though no speaker was present.

“Once upon a time, in the far eastern land of Porcelain, a cruel emperor rose to the throne, and the people suffered. He grew fat from the food he stole from the common folk, and though his ministers pleaded with him to ease his demands on the peasants, he scorned them.”

A throne rose from the floor, carved with snakey looking dragons and painted garishly gold in a hue that in no way mimicked true gold. Puppets walked in from the opposite side of the wings, human sized mannequins dressed in robes and funny hats, to gather around the throne. They wailed, and knelt, and discussed how the emperor would be here soon.

And in the other wing, Threadbare looked on as a suit of garish gold and green robes wheeled out on a rack, followed by a huge hat that was bigger and funnier than any of the other ones out there on stage.

“One of us must be the emperor! Who can be a good villain?” Jean asked.

“Oooh! Oooh!” Fluffbear jumped up and down.

“No,” the rest of the party chorused.

“Aedy. Those are easier so long as you can stay funny.”

“I'm not sure I can,” Threadbare said. “I'm not very good at that.”

“You'll do fine,” Celia said, reaching down to pat his head. “We just need to find you the right part.”

Anne spent a bit of time yelling at the courtiers and eating handfuls of golden-colored carrots from trays that servants brought her periodically, refusing to do anything the courtiers asked no matter how they pleaded.

Then the voice came from on high again.

“The poor courtiers were forced to deliver news to their lords all across the antique land, that the Emperor would show no mercy. And from the ears of the lords it reached the peasants. Three of whom decided a rebellion was in order! They were Sung Sim the stout, Yung Sim the clever, and Kim Mei the brave, and their meeting in the empty rice storehouse would mark the beginning of a new era for this antique land...”

The curtain closed, and the set began rearranging itself.

Three pairs of peasant clothes popped up, and to Threadbare's dismay, they were all the same... mostly. Two were yellow, and one was red.

“Who gets what?” Celia asked.

“I could take the red one,” Threadbare offered.

“No,” Jean cautioned. “We need to save you and Celia for important parts, I think. These plays... they do better if the most powerful among us take the best parts. And these, it is hard to say. At least one of them will be a hero, but which one I do not know!”

“Rest of us pretty powerful,” Zuula said, marching forward and picking up the red costume, as it instantly wrapped around her and shrunk down, leaving her in pajama-like loose pants and shirt, wearing a conical, wide-brimmed straw hat.

“But only one hero, right? I'm okay, but I'm not super.” Fluffbear reasoned, touching a yellow costume.”

“The curtain is opening!” said Jean.

Thomasi nodded. “I'll go third, then. Going to assume the two yellow ones are the Sim brothers...” He touched the third set of yellows... just as Fluffbear's finished wrapping, leaving her in a skirt and bodice and bonnet.

“Or sisters? Yep, sisters,” said Thomasi, as an overlarge bonnet enveloped his top hat and sat awkwardly on his head. “Well, I've done stranger,” he said, studying his new clothes and giving the skirt an experimental swish.

The curtain rolled open, revealing a backdrop of windows and piled sacks of meager grain, with rat puppets running between prop crates.

“You need to get out there!” Jean stage whispered, as the audience began to murmur...

...and Threadbare felt a pressure against his mind, as words appeared in his field of view.

The Fandom of the Lop Ear's Disapproval has grown!

You have suffered 5 points of Moxie damage!

The Fan Rage meter is growing!

It wasn't much, as Threadbare watched the green numbers fly from his comrades' heads, some bigger than others. Thomasi's was a fairly fat '0', but Zuula lost a double digit chunk.

Not too horrible in the grand scheme of things.

But that Fan Rage meter was concerning. The others thought so too, evidently, as Thomasi and Fluffbear and Zuula ran onto stage.

“Here we are!” squeaked Fluffbear. “We're gonna make such a big rebellion!”

“Said Yung Sim the clever!” came the narrator's voice from above.

“Yes, I agree!” Thomasi said in a high-pitched voice, waggling his beard as the audience laughed.

The Fan Rage Meter is dropping!

“Said Sung Sim the Stout!” The narrator added.

“Dat make me Kim Mei,” Zuula said.

“Pointed out Kim Mei the brave, for no reason,” the narrator said wryly.