The Jidoor Opera House

[Secondary Characters]

"Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the Jidoor Opera House!"

A tall, rather lanky old man sporting an obvious wig stood tall on the center stage, his arms outstretched as if to grab and embrace all of the audience--were there anyone else there--for himself. His smile was fake, as was his loving voice, but those who watched, those who heard him, would be entranced. Masters of the theatre were always capable of entrancing their audiences.

"Ah, this shall never work," the man said, his arms falling to his sides as he turned from the stage and walked off, moving up and down the rows of empty aisles and frowning.

"I have my actors--lousy, at best--and I've got myself: the ringmaster. I just need something better; I need an audience! I also need solid ground to work with, but we'll manage."

Some time after their last less-than-perfect performance the two land bridges connected to the single island where this grand house stood broke off, and for reasons that would hopefully become apparent later the island was moved into Hyperspace.

Some time after this, the Opera House's star--their diva--Maria, had gone missing. No one knew why, and nobody knew where, but they all knew one thing: the Opera House was finished without their lead.

"This is just bullocks!" cried the Impresario, master of the theatre, stomping down the aisles and climbing back onstage. He looked around to his bumbling performers with a look of disgust, and took out a rag to wipe off his forehead. "No good, no good, no good! I'll bet you it was that Setzer. I just know it. He always tries to kidnap Maria."

Of course, little did anyone within the Opera House know who really took their light. Abandonment to pursue one's goals was always one of Maria's captor's favorite things to do, but it seemed that he did not appreciate having the same thing done to him.

When her kidnapper finally figured out exactly how to capture this woman, he hastily went for it. First he had to find a way to keep her immobile. That was when he disconnected the Opera House from its bases and moved the structure into space. There, she had only the island to move about, and was much easier prey.

"Where is that blasted windbag!?" cried the Impresario, looking out over the stage crew and actors, trying to find Maria's male equivalent on the stage. "I swear, that man is so long-winded he won't even arrive to his funeral on time!" The man hopped angrily in place for a couple minutes, before running off after the actors, screaming and shouting at them for their incompetence.

"I NEED ACTORS!" he cried. "I want a full house!!!" He barreled his way back to the stage and took his place once more at the center. "If none of you wish to grace me with perfection, then you're ALL FIRED! I'll just find NEW performers! Somewhere...anywhere...uh..." he sighed.

[Hercules]

***From Loans and Finance***

The infinite blackness of space, so vast and quiet... That is until a money bin shaped gummi ship came careening toward the Opera House, letting out loud blasts in complaint of its load. Inside, the co-pilot would grumble loudly, tapping the controls with the force of a full-thrown punch. "What's going on with this thing??" the greek complained, just now rubbing the mark off his nose that served as his disguise while in Duckberg.

A quick glance to the fuel guage was enough to explain that. It was right on the E. Herc sighed, shaking his head a bit. "That cheapskate old duck gave us a half-filled ship!" he said, looking to his companion, a large man in black armor known as Gabranth. "We gotta land, or we're going to be adrift!"

Looking out the window, he noticed a strange sight, an entire Opera House with its atmosphere inexplicably intact. He pointed to it before shaking Gabranth's shoulder. "There!" he said, then sat back. "Unless you see a better spot, that looks like our emergancy landing!"

[Gabranth]

They were moving along quiet well. A ship and a destination. Though Gabranth was used to piloting more advanced machines, this was quiet easy compared. Things seemed to be going very smooth, maybe a bit to smooth.

Just then, Hercules in a panicked state had noticed a gage on the control console. This happened to be a fuel gage. Hearing what Hercules had said, Gabranth stayed calm and collected under his facade and merely let out a long groaning sigh. More frustrated than angry. "It seems as we have no choice but to land. Unless you see something on your navigation HUD, that can be signaled for S.O.S. then we land." he said in a very frustrated manner.

He sat gripping the controls waiting to see if Hercules would find anything.

[Hercules]

"I'm not picking up anything..." Hercules conceded, shrugging a bit. "Sorry, but we gotta set down." With that, he started up the landing protocols like Baloo had taught them. He got up out of his chair to make sure the landing gear went down properly. When he got back, he patted the man's shoulder.

"I think we're set," he said, then pointed to a bit of land jutting out from the side of the building. "That looks like as good a place as any. Let's set down there and see if we can find any fuel." He looked to Gabranth with a nod. "You ready?"

[Hades]

Just after Jerkules finished being so optimistic, a familiar voice would echo inside the helmet of the bucket-headed judge.

"You're going to be the one to kill Hercules, buddy boy..." it whispered, and just as it did, every guage would go dead. Not only were they out of gas, but now they were flying blind, with no instruments whatsoever to guide their landing. Baloo didn't go over how to land this sucker manually...

"You've got three seconds to figure it out. Happy trails..." the voice chuckled again. Funny how a God can make things a pain from so far away...

[Gabranth]

Gabranth sat at the controls ready to land the massive money bin shaped craft, when a all to familiar echo did he hear from beneath his iron facade.

"You're going to be the one to kill Hercules, buddy boy..."
"You've got three seconds to figure it out. Happy trails..."

Up until now he was feeling rather good about landing such an odd vessel, that was until he felt an all to familiar tug on his chains.

Gabranth became a bit flustered to say the least. Once the voice had gone, little could Hercules tell of the expression on the Judges face. Gabranth, no sooner did the voice leave he raise his fist up into the air only to slam it straight into the console in front of him shattering quiet a huge panel.

The Judge glanced to his right where Hercules happened to be sitting in the co-pilots chair. In a very stern almost cold voice he relayed orders to Hercules. "Theres a small problem. Hurry to the back of the ship and find the backup power panel and activate it. No questions just go, time is a factor here." While Hercules was looking for the override, Gabranth could would be free to scan for the emergency override controls.

[serpentoflore]

**from the Dark Theater (World that Never Was)**

Sarah found herself staring at a door when the corridor showed some light. The very material used to create the art on it amazed her senses. There was no place like this on Middleton. In fact, she knew that nothing would be as fulfilling as the talent she was able to use right now. She kept a hold on Acteur's hand, hoping that he knew where they were to go.

[Acteur de la Noir]

*From the Dark Theater*

As the Impresario lamented on the lack of talent in his current cast of actors, he would soon find his words to be prophetic—for the dead quiet of the theater was broken by the sound of a rising whoosh, as though a strong wind was building. Following the noise to the point of origin would draw all eyes to the stage, where a vortex of jet black mixed with ghostly purple was materializing out of thin air. The whirling darkness grew with alarming swiftness, until it was roughly the height of a doorway…which wasn’t far separated from the truth. For, as any versed in the ways of magic could attest, this was a portal…a gateway from someplace of considerable darkness.

Then, from that shadowy portal, two figures emerged…a pair who, by some peculiar twist of fate, were clearly no strangers to the world of theater, regardless of whence they hailed from. The first of these figures was a lanky gentleman, clad dressed in the outlandish attire of a turn-of-the-century Victorian performer—beneath a black cape with tattered hem, he wore a purple tuxedo of flamboyant cut, along with a ruffled silk shirt and a nobleman’s hat. White opera gloves shielded skeletal-thin fingers, and his shoes were curled at the toes, reminiscent of a jester’s. But the most striking feature of this peculiar gentleman was his mask—framed by the tangled silver-gray hair that spilled from beneath his hat, that bone-white porcelain accessory was quite reminiscent of the twin masks of comedy and tragedy; with one of its few features being the crescent-moon slash of that wide, gleeful smile. And then there were the eyes—peering from the darkness of the mask’s eyeholes, they glittered with an eerie yellow light…as though they belonged to a being who wasn’t human…

Stepping onto the stage with graceful elegance, the Victorian performer cast a look over his shoulder to make sure that his companion—she of the long brown hair, dressed in a uniform of black and scarlet and carrying a piccolo of exquisite quality—was faring well after their journey. “Feeling well, my dear?” he whispered to her. “The first trip through the Corridors of Darkness is ever a harrowing one.”

Then he turned his piercing gaze back to the Impresario and his cast, throwing his arms wide as though addressing an crowd. “Ah…the Jidoor Opera House!” he declared in a voice full of melodramatic delight. “For performers such as myself and my ward, t’is a rare opportunity to set foot in an establishment so dedicated to the performing arts! To bedazzle the senses and enrapture the soul…truly, it is magic all its own!” Pausing, the eccentric stranger looked around as though taking in the current state of affairs. “And I daresay we’ve arrived in the nick of time,” he mused. “It would appear that there’s an opportunity for some new talent to join the show!”

Then the eccentric stranger turned to face the Impresario directly, sweeping off his hat and dipping forward in an elegant bow. “But how rude! I’ve not introduced myself, nor my charge!” He brought a hand to his chest, gesturing to himself. “Acteur de la Noir, the Phantom Puppeteer, at your service…” Then those long, thin fingers swept in the direction of the lady musician. “…And the lady Sarah Appleton, prodigy in the arts of music!”

[Secondary Characters]

Given a moment of respite the Impresario stopped hopping up and down in anger, his clenched fists loosening their death grip on a program being crushed between his old, bony fingers. He turned upon this rift terring through the veil of reality, his eyes wide in shock as an eerie wind rippled out from the void, knocking back his thin, stringy hair; the papers in his hand were ripped from his hold and blew off in another direction, and he raised an eyebrow in an intrigued, if not confused, expression.

Some of his staff, amazed in their own right at this sudden appearance of the puppeteer's herald, crowded around the Impresario, and stared into the Corridor with him, each of them showing mixed emotions upon the arrival of Acteur De La Noir and Sarah Appleton.

When introductions were made, Impresario couldn't help but take a step back and clutch his chest dramatically, and let out a long, hard sigh.

"What a sudden act of charity given to my House by the great Cosmos!" he cried, still in shock of this strange arrival. "Welcome to Jidoor's grand Opera House! I am the Impresario, Master of the Theatre...though you have come at quite a fall in our standards, as it appears things have been going downhill for quite some time."

He paused and looked around once more for the "male equivalent" of his star Maria and furrowed his brow when he was nowhere to be seen. He slapped himself in the face before turning back to the Phantom Puppeteer.

"You must forgive me, but I am a very busy man in a ridiculously terrible panic. I have to put on a show soon and have neither an audience nor performers to present my work!" He gave a look to the now-vexed crew of his and shrugged his shoulders. "They try, but they're not good. It is distasteful to admit, but the truth is always best. If I could just properly...put on the show of the century..."

[serpentoflore]

"I feel a little tired." Sarah spoke softly, so that only Acteur would hear. When he addressed the Impresario, she loosened her grip on his hand in case he needed to use it. The atmosphere comforted her along with the beautiful imagery. The Master of the Opera house needed help.

She let go of Acteur's hand, walking a little closer to the man. "Perhaps we might be of service?" She bowed, one hand lifting up to touch her heart. "Whatever you need, we are experts of the art."

[Hercules]

"Right!" Hercules responded, completely unaware of Hades' little scheme to crash-land them both. All he knew was that the gas had gone out and now the whole ship was shutting down. He stood up and ran to the back, tearing open the power box to look for the panel he needed to switch on.

Slight problem, though. Looking at the mess of wires and switches and plugs for Hercules was much like trying to solve the Gordian Knot... except if you tried to slice it, you'd get a nasty bolt of electricity coursing up your arms! He tried to decypher the cryptic entanglement of cords, but got nowhere fast. He looked over to Gabranth, wondering what to do. "Uhhh..." he tried to call out, but knew the other man was busy with issues of his own. He had to get creative here.

He looked all over the panel, but everything was either unlabled or buried so deep in those cords that even if he wanted to read what the message said, he couldn't. Time was running out, so he did the only logical thing he could think of. He started randomly flipping switches and calling out "Did that do anything??", waiting for an answer before moving to the next one. It would take him two and a half of their three minutes to finally find the right switch and flip it. The ship would have power, but would it have enough to counter-act the momentum it had built up while flying??

That... was up to Gabranth to figure out.

[Acteur de la Noir]

Acteur nodded as he heard Sarah's response to the Impresario's plight, a rich chuckle escaping his mask as he returned his hat to his head and gave its brim a rakish tilt. "I couldn't have phrased it better myself, Impresario--as Ms. Appleton attests, she and I are no stranger to the ways of the performing arts." He indicated himself with a bow. "Take myself, for example... behold a master of puppetry, illusion, stagecraft...and that most delicate and elusive of arts, storytelling!" Thrusting a hand forward palm-up, the eccentric performer began to tick off examples on his gloved fingers. "Is a member of your cast sick? Need you the presence of fantastic creatures that could not be depicted properly by bumbling clods in an over-large costume? Or, perhaps, you call for an actor who can deliver their lines with proper drama and poise?" He let out a laugh of melodramatic boasting. "Fear not--with my combined talents, I can easily provide! A walking mannequin to emulate your sick performer; a construct of the most exotic creatures of myth; an actor with talent unparalleled...name your need, and I shall strive to fulfill it!"

Here, Acteur paused, cocking his head to one side and stroking his pointed chin with long, skeletal-thin fingers. "Now, then. Your dilemma, sir, is that you've a work of theatrical genius, but neither the proper medium to present it..." He paused, those glittering yellow eyes sweeping amongst the other performers in an appraising manner. "...nor a proper audience to witness its greatness." Another pause, and those eerie orbs darted towards the empty seats. Then Acteur brought a glove hand in front of his face...and in an inexplicable feat of trickery, when his mask was exposed once more,it had taken on a sorrowful expression. "A tragic thing, good sir...as a fellow practitioner of the arts, I understand your vexation all too well."

Then another sweep of the hand, and when it passed, the features of the elegantly-dressed performer's mask had resumed their former cheer. "Moreover, I can help you! If you'll permit our involvement, Ms. Appleton and I can use our talents to bolster the quality of your assembled cast. Moreover, I have the sort of connections to spread knowledge of your impending performance across the worlds--the savvy to draw in a crowd worthy of Jidoor's finest hours!" A pause, and those spooky yellow eyes glittered craftily. "Ah, but what would be in it for myself, you ask? T'is quite simple, really...I seek only the chance to perform upon such an exquisite stage as this--to present the finest of performing arts to the night."

With those words, Acteur de la Noir offered his hand to the director, fingers splayed wide in invitation. "So, then, my good Impresario...might this humble puppeteer and his companion--a lonely musician whose talent has long been ignored--be of some assistance in your hour of need?"

[Secondary Characters]

Impresario clapped his hands together erratically, squealing with delight at the puppeteer's words. An enthusiastic cry of joy, and he tipped his head.

"Bravo, bravo!" he cried, his hands still clapping. "I am in need of it all, my good man! And you say you're a master of all these trades? Such a feat! Such a feat, indeed! How ever could I be so lucky to find two gems?"

A single tear fell from his cheek to the floor and he made a dramatic show of wiping his face with a kerchief. When he finished, he tucked it neatly into the breast-side pocket and moved over to a throne prop and sat down, sighing.

"Well you see, I seek a cast that is both exemplary yet...diverse; I want people who have history in adventure, magic, and the arts. Not people who can just emulate after reading a book. I want people to play the parts and live them. And as for the sets, the clothes, and everything else? We've talented tailors and artists, but nothing compared to that of others, since our best have either quit or died. And without Maria..."

He threw his head back and let out a long, painful cry. "WHY, oh WHY did she have to disappear now, of all times!?"

He stood up and wiped his nose with the kerchief once more and again tucked it away. "Please forgive that...but yes, Mister--De La Noir, was it...we have a deal. Please help me with this, and depending on how truthful you've been, you might find a permanent home here--should you choose to stay afterward."

[serpentoflore]

Sarah looked towards the Impresario with eyes that seemed to emulate his pain. This Maria was important to him and she was not here in his hour of need. "A master of such a magnificent opera house without a star? How could this fate come on someone so versed with the arts and deserving of respect?" She looked towards him, walking only a few more steps towards him. "For music, I can do more than provide for the show that displays your talent. Should you need any more musicians, then I shall strive to find those who would compliment your genius." Her hands remained at her sides, not making any attempt to play the Piccolo to sway his decision.

[Acteur de la Noir]

Acteur swept into a theatrical gentleman's bow as he received the Impresario's blessing, his ghostly yellow eyes glittering with excitement. "T'would be my delight to help, monsieur," he replied with tones of heartfelt sincerity. "And I rather think that I can. I require but two things in order to do so--information on your masterstroke, and the time needed to assemble the proper cast and materials to help bring it to life."

Saying thus, the enigmatic performer began to pace back and forth across the stage, stroking his chin as though pondering a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. "Costumes, scenery, and music...such things are easily accessible, with the resources I can call upon. The real thing to consider here are the characters, and the plot." Pausing here, Acteur promptly turned back to the Impresario, his keen yellow eyes gleaming with wit. "For, you see, it so happens that I know a rather diverse range of individuals..."

With a flourish, he produced a puppeteer's cross, from which dangled a number of interesting caricatures--among them, a mysterious and sinister figure wrapped in a dark Mage's cloak and pointed hat; a svelte and alluring woman whose long black hair was accentuated by her black-and-green outfit; a slender and stately queen with elegant wings, whose shadowy skin was accented by a glittering indigo gown; a young man in soldier's fatigues, his wild spiky hair as outrageous as the size of his battle-sword; and a female knight with chestnut hair and the armor of a holy knight, one of her eyes hidden behind a white patch.

"For example, each of these represents a few of those I've met personally," Acteur observed, tapping each puppet in turn. "A masterful Dark Mage who acts as a shepherd for his sable flock...a cunning thief and saboteur who darts through the night in a streak of emerald flame...a Faerie Queen of nocturnal beauty and tastes...a lone-wolf mercenary who wields his sword against demons both within and without...and a modern-day Joan of Arc, whose devout valiance masks secrets that would be a surprise to all..."

Trailing off, the eccentric puppeteer tilted his head from one side to the other as he looked at the Impresario, a note of the greatest curiosity in his voice. "Tell me, might any of these individuals serve the purposes of your plot? And what other faces might be needed to fill the missing gaps in your roster? Ask, and I shall do my utmost to deliver."