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Old 06-03-2017, 06:07 PM   #36
Raves
Brains over Brawn.
 
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Location: Life and love make fools of us all. Gods reject the existence of love and life.
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La Ville des Farceurs et Voleurs


Raves:
You’ve come to the city to find the origins behind a key found within a locked box. Something -- call it intuition -- told you that the answers could be traced back to the City of Jesters and Thieves What will you find? Only time will tell.

It’s the summer solstice and the shortest night of the year. It is unusually quiet on the streets, as if the city itself were afraid of getting caught in the impending sunlight. No one wants to get caught red handed; no one wants to get caught with their sins on display. You make a calm but brisk pace, stopped occasionally only by the authority of a crossing signal. It it as one of these impediments, waiting for the orange ‘YIELD’ light to give way to ‘WALK’ and allow you on your way, that something strange plays out: on the other side of the street, a man in a brown trenchcoat rounds the corner, pulling a little girl by the arm. She looks to be no more than 12 years old, and even from a distance it’s obvious she’s crying. There is a white, unmarked van parked on the curb, roughly fifteen feet from the crosswalk; he shoves her inside. The alphanumeric triad ‘P57’ stands out to you; there was more to it, but you can’t remember. He starts the car and drives away. It takes less than two minutes. In your periphery, a light changes.


YIELD
WALK



What will you do?


The solstice.

Whether through the scientific explanation of the planet's closest position to the sun, the Arceist teachings of the dance of the Volcarona under the Original One's many arms, or the old Alolan tale of the Day of Ula'Ula's Song, where those who followed the Land Spirit Tapu Bulu offer the island their tending services for the hopes of a good harvest, the solstice was a revered time of the year. Indeed, the very sun appeared to have kept the sinful at bay, the long day providing much light over the hours for revellers. No scoundrel of any format was stopping her in her search, only the creation of man, in the form of a road crossing.

The woman, in waiting with the Mawile, caught sight of something that seemed highly unsavoury to her. A man in a trenchcoat, dragging a crying girl by the arm, poor thing mustn't be older than twelve, around a corner. He hauls her to a van, white and unmarked, classic mystery vehicle, and shoves her into the back. The number plate, she doesn't fully notice, but P-five-seven stands out, for some reason. The man enters the vehicle, he drives off, in the space of two minutes. In her periphery vision, the sidewalk's signal changes. Walk.

The Mawile gazes up at her with his emerald oculars. She stares down at him, the pair communicating with eye contact. The Mawile seems slightly concerned, the woman not so much. In a wretched hive such as this, kidnappings would be uncommon, but not rare, and what was to say the man wasn't trying to get her out of trouble? The Deceiver frowns, he admits the woman is correct, but motioning across the street, he feels the pair should follow, even if the vehicle is long gone. The woman, with no other plan of action, agrees, with a slight air of reluctance. She was after information on the key, not to play heroines and villains with some trenchcoat-wearing muggle. However, she had no leads other than the city, so admitted they may as well head in the same direction as the van, while taking a mental note of the number in her head. If push came to shove and the pair ended up in trouble, she was certain the steel fairy could muscle through whatever adversity.
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