It's a surprisingly quiet ride. The passenger cart is nothing more than wood and a bit of cotton to cushion the seats but for some reason, even as the train hurtles along down the track, the cart remains silent. It only starts filling with noise when the passengers begin to stir.
There isn't any indication on how you got here. No grogginess, no injuries -- in fact, those who arrive with injuries might find them healed up completely (of course there are others who won't be so lucky) -- but in one blink and the next, you are here, on this train. Maybe you're even sitting next to a friend. Maybe a stranger.
Won't be any time to talk either, the train suddenly slowing down with enough of a jerk to throw its passengers back into their seats. A few seconds later, it comes to a complete stop and with a whistle, the doors open and a voice calls from outside. It's male, with a slight mechanical twang behind it and anyone who looks out the window towards the station can just about spot the portly man out on the platform.
"You might as well come on out, folks. You won't be getting any answers on the train."
Once everyone is out on the platform, the man stands before them taking an assessing look at each person. There is something very off about him, though he looks human enough -- but his eyes are too white, his skin too dry, and his hair is doesn't shine quite right. He is dressed in a flannel shirt, suspenders, and jeans, a cowboy hat atop his head and a badge pinned to his shirt that reads "Sheriff". After a moment, he gives a gruff nod and speaks again.
"Howdy. Real happy to see all of you. Explanations will come... Sunday morning, yeah. Give y'all a bit of time to meet each other. Settle in. Keys are on the table over there, hat and pistol in your room. Don't, er... Don't shoot each other right away but if you do, my office is over there. Go get some dinner, sun's about to set. Wouldn't want any coyote trouble."
And that seems to be... it. The Sheriff tips his hat and turns to head to the building with the large "Sheriff" sign on the front. There is a table nearby, keys neatly laid out for everyone with nametags attached to each one. An owl hoots in the distance and a breeze passes through the group. It's quiet again.
Welcome to game start! Characters will find their items in their hotel rooms and anyone who goes to visit the Sheriff after he leaves will find the station empty. On top of that, rulebooks will not be available to find until later. The Sheriff might be forcing it a little but it seems like the intent here really is to get everyone to interact with each other. If there are any questions, PM or hit up the plurk at ![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico) robowest! |
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robowest2017-01-13 05:59 pm
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[Another kid, huh... he doesn't like this at all. He doesn't like that Constantine was here, suddenly. He doesn't like that there are so many kids here.
He doesn't really like any of this.]
Though why our pets? It does not make sense.
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No it doesn't. The last time I saw Mrs. O'Leary was almost a year ago, so why she showed up here doesn't add up. And how'd they get our pets here anyway? I don't think anybody mentioned dogs on the train.
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They have kidnapped us from our homes, and you are concerned with how they were able to bring our pets?
[PERCY...]
The "how"s of that matter, I imagine, are the least of our concerns.
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The kidnapping thing makes a little more sense to me. [SORRY BARNHAM. He sounds nonchalant but his expression is enough to say he's still annoyed about that. He's only been reunited with his friends and his memories for a month and a half.] It's not just the pets though, it's...everything about this place. The keys with our names on them wasn't a great sign either. Any idea what the Sheriff wants from us?
[He's assuming it's the Sheriff solely because the Sheriff showed up. Percy's focus is a little narrow sometimes.]
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........]
Certainly not any ideas I would be willing to put words to without further evidence, as of yet.
[He's a "prosecutor", man, let him live.]
For now, I would rather know where, exactly, we are.
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also a what]
This place is unlike any I have seen before. The style of housing, the wooden structures...it is unusual to me.
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[He's also looking at Barnham curiously.] What's normal for you?
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[This place... is not that, to be sure.]
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... No, that is not quite accurate. Still, it is bustling, and the citizenry is warm.
[...]
This place...in contrast, is rather dead.
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[AFTER ALL...]
If there had been others here, I find it unlikely we would not have seen any sign of them thus far.
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He can't deny that.]
I suspect those running this farce are not far off, if that is what you mean.
Though yes...that may very well be possible. I would not bank on it, however.
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We have only ourselves. That is the most certain thing we have at this moment. We must remain focused and aware of ourselves and the others here.
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Yet.] Here's hoping our focus becomes more clear when we figure out what we're doing here.[He looks at Barnham again.] I'm Percy. [Since they should be aware of themselves and others here.]
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[He's helpful!!]
Keep your wits about you, until it comes time they are necessary, Percy.
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This won't be the first time I've done just that, Mr. Barnham. [Since calling him just "Barnham" doesn't seem appropriate yet. Let him pretend he's polite sometimes. Though he pauses to look over Barnham's clothes and...] Are you some kind of knight?
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As for that...he nods.]
I am. Most properly, I am an Inquisitor--a knight of the law. It is my duty to protect the citizenry of Labyrinthia.
[Hence...the armor.]
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What kind of stuff attacks Labyrinthia? [He's absolutely assuming that Barnham means something like the law appointed him to defend the city from monsters and the like. Why else would the armor be a thing?]
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Various foul deviants could be at play, and it is my duty to defend the citizenry from any and all that would appear.
[witches--okay, no, he's trying to pull away from that thought process.]
Is that not the case for any defender?
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"Foul deviants." [If he looks less than impressed it's because he's probably been called a foul deviant once or twice in his life.] I mean I guess so, but usually we have weapons and stuff. Where's yours?
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... I typically carry a sword.
It does not appear as though my captors granted me that courtesy, however.
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