When the Witch Frog had appeared to Janet, a purple envelope in its webby hand, her first question should have been why Majolica hadn’t just sent a message. They had many tools at their disposal. Communication channels, friend lists, sticky stickers. Why the strange amphibian, dressed in khaki shorts and toting a little bag like a mailman-in-training, had brought the message on plain paper should have been a mystery. Then again, it wasn’t too concerning. Majolica was known to have a certain “dramatic” flair—perhaps she thought a handwritten summons would be more secretive and theatrical this time than if she’d used other means. Or perhaps there was more to this mission than met the eye. Something that required the next level of discretion. Whatever the case, “Rated R” was on her way to a local Farmer’s Market between Astorea and Falderen, not too far off her produce route. The letter had been very specific that she was not to do anything out of the ordinary before the infiltration began, so the cart was packed with freshly-grown veggies, boxed in wooden crates perfectly grown to fit their contents. On a hot day, the cart was cool, the refrigerated veggies giving off a pleasant aura. The ride was fairly smooth and only occasionally did the chestnut mare cause the cart to shudder as she tried to surge ahead, trying to outrace the black horse who snorted and kept his neck proudly arched as he clopped along in time. The cart pulled up at a large, hand-painted wooden sign that read FARMER’S MARKET, JUST AHEAD! “Stop here, please,” Janet called out firmly and the two mounts slowed. Rebel tossed her head, snorting impatiently. “Hello, Madison. How are you doing?” With a red kerchief tied around her head, the teen brunette looked no different than any other day on the road. Her wooden shield was propped up against one side of the driver’s seat as an impromptu sunshade. She used the other player’s real name and not her codename carefully—Janet was still unsure just how top-secret this mission really was. “Ahem. Th-thank you for coming to meet me, I can always use the help. Did you bring anything? There’s some space in the back if you need it.” Since she was going to market as a vendor, not a distributor, Janet only had her own goods with her today. By that, she meant broccoli. Of course, the refrigeration doesn’t preserve the magic, just the freshness. Eating these florets wouldn’t heal your wounds, but they were certainly an important source of vitamins and nutrients! So the internet said, anyway. @Madison Freebird
No, that's okay. It's not like she had anything else going on. Didn't have a cauldron bubbling or anything. Nope, no patches of poisonous mushrooms out back behind her little driftwood home that required her loving attention and a shot of mana every ten minutes. Absolutely no ominous, glowing tomes on the desk, cracked open to a couple sketches of even sketchier ritual circles. And of course that half-empty glass of wine sitting on the porch would keep! But when it was time for Witch Ops to turn into Bitch Ops, she couldn't avoid the call. It would've been physically impossible. The delivery frog sat on her chest and croaked incessantly until Madison took the sealed envelope from it and read the mission parameters. Which is why she found herself outside some podunk little trading town on the road in her adopted home of Dunnstads. The town was hosting a little farmer's market, and word was getting out that some of the goods were tainted--and Madison was sure as shit she had nothing to do with it. It was her job to find out the who's and what's. She didn't care about the why's, of course. Unless it was why she couldn't get paid to do the job. A wicked Lisa Frank witch cat sticker on her ankle was only going to be cool for so long. Madison had long since shifted out of her raven form, opting to hoof it the last mile or two before the market. Even in the heat, it wasn't too unbearable. Instead of her usual soul-black tunic, bodice, and trousers; she opted for a wide-brimmed hat and a pretty (and highly-unMaddylike) floral sundress. Something that would make her look the part of a gardener, at least. She wasn't too sure the disguise was going to fool anyone. It certainly didn't fool Janet Reilly, who rolled up with a cart and a pair of horses a little ways away from the market. The brunette greeted Madison, who graciously took her up on her offer to throw her bundles of flowers for their stall in the back and ride the rest of the way. "'Preciate it," she tossed in for good measure. Rated-R was one of the few people the druidess felt she could get along with in the Ops. The two women officially met during Majolica's little beach party, which--well, Maddy didn't really remember a lot of. There was a lot of food, some of it eaten, some of it brutally murdered, and the rest completely wasted. Madison had passed around a couple bottles of wine to a few of the older members--Janet included--and everything got fuzzy from there. Maddy nudged the sacks she brought with her foot. "Yeah. I brought some flowers to sell. Pretty begonias, irises, freesias, and crymanthesums." She was pretty sure she fucked up the pronunciation of that last one; but flowers weren't ever her sort of thing. But there was nobody at the market who would've plopped down a handful of gold for a bag of Death Caps and Destroying Angels. You'd likely get arrested for it, anyway. "Only brought enough to get started, anyway," she added with another uncertain nudge of the bag. "I'll just grow the rest once we get the booth set up." The plagueslinger leaned back, adjusting the brim of her hat to keep the sun out of her eyes while the sights of the village slowly rolled past them. "So what do we know about the mission?"
Even though it was an infiltration mission and she should really be thinking about the job, Janet was looking forward to the farmer’s market. She hadn’t been to one since she was a girl, and she had good memories of wandering around the different stalls and looking at all the brightly-colored crafts and baked goods. “You look nice today,” Janet said once her fellow naturamancer had taken a seat beside her in the cart. “Go ahead, Rebel.” She gave the reins a little flip and the cart gave a jerk as the chestnut mare went back to pulling with gusto. The black horse beside her turned his head to eye the two women in the cart before moving as well, apparently satisfied with the nature of his passengers. “Oh! I love chrysanthemums,” Janet said earnestly without any trace of sarcasm or teasing, “I always see them at Wal-Mart in the spring, but I never get to buy any.” There was a pause while she realized what she’d said and color began to creep up her collar. Did I just mention the real world? Goodness, she had to get better about that. She didn’t even like Wal Mart. And the fact that nobody ever bought her flowers (not even for Valentines Day, or her anniversary) wasn’t so important in the long run. Not compared to the person upsetting the perfectly wholesome farmer’s market, after all! Quickly trying to change the subject, voice a little higher-pitched, Janet said “Did you know that shield of Hanno’s—how could you not, it’s enormous—it gave me a flower the other day. It was a daisy, of course, not a chrysanthemum. I don’t have the faintest idea what it was thinking!” They were far enough away from listening ears that Janet judged it was safe to talk about the real reason they were there, so she lowered her voice. “Not too much,” she admitted, “The Witch Frog was trying to tell me something in charades, but I’ve never been very good at understanding them, you know.” She gave a disgruntled little hmph and then a sigh. “Here’s my letter—you got the same one, right? Knowing the Commander…” Janet trailed off, winding the reins around one finger as she pursed her lips in contemplation, “…It’s probably a player. With the tainted goods, I-I mean,” she added hastily. “It must be affecting N-P-C's.” They were the Witch Ops, after all. Special Operatives (or “Dark Heroes” as the Yladian girl sometimes called them at her most ambiguous) to defend the people of Astorea from forces that might harm them. Janet had come to realize in the last month or two that those forces—when not an ancient tentacle Dissonance rising out of Naryu Canyon—were usually players who cared little for NPC lives or the consequences of their actions. Janet was still skeptical about the concept, but after getting to know some of the local farmers and townspeople she’d begun to glimpse some of what Majolica was talking about. The sounds of a distant crowd began to filter in over the clop-clop of the horses’ footfalls. “Oh, I think we’re almost there!” As they neared their destination, brightly-colored banners heralded the two women, hanging from rooftops and street-signs in the village square. Janet steered towards an empty patch of grass with a couple of tables already set up and parked the carriage, surprised by how many people were already browsing the stalls as other farmers, artisans, and craftsmen set up their wares. Janet slid out of the seat and began to stack large crates of broccoli in front of the table. “I wish I’d thought more about presentation,” she fretted as she tried to arrange them “artistically”. “I didn’t even make a sign.” @Madison Freebird
