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! |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sheriffexe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
robowest2017-01-13 05:59 pm
beats u up and takes the lunch money
When the hit doesn't land, all of Damian's instincts want him to quickly follow up with aggressive offense to keep Jason stumbling and off-guard, but he doesn't.
Apparently, Jason isn't the only person to come to this place in a Robin's suit; Damian hasn't exchanged his for the (ab)normal Western clothes that can be found around the town.] Idiot.
Why did you take it off?
no subject
What?
[Hissing that word out like it could convey every single question he has right now. The number of which, uh, happens to be pretty fucking big. The Robin suit is definitely not going unnoticed by Jason; he could be blind and still recognize the R on this kid's chest. Somehow. Maybe through telepathy. It doesn't matter. Ugh.]
What are you talking about? [Okay. That's good. More coherency. Try wearing a ripped up suit for two days straight, you dick.] And what is up with the Halloween costume, kid? I don't know if you've noticed, but you're too early for Trick or Treating.
[Ha ha ha ha. Because it's not like this kid could be Robin, right? Right?]
no subject
Suddenly, Damian jerks across the gap between them and slams his forearms into Jason's front, trying to push Jason all the way back against the wall.] A moron now, a moron when you're older. Batman was really scraping the bottom of the barrel when he felt sorry for you. [His pressing gets harder.]
Don't take off the suit.
Hasn't he taught you anything? We don't know why we're even here, where we're even at, and you're already in these ridiculous clothes. This isn't a game, Todd.
no subject
Damian succeeds in pushing Jason back, and Jason briefly considers beating the shit out him before quickly punching a hole through that thought process. They don't work that way. He's above that. He doesn't need to get aggressive to make this kid back off, even if he's pissing him off.
(But, really. He should probably not underestimate Damian? Rest in pieces, Jason Todd.)]
Blah, blah, blah — you sure like hearing the sound of your own voice. Hasn't anyone told you you look cuter with your mouth shut, pipsqueak?
[Keeping his tone level, though, uh. Everything Damian is saying sure is getting to him. Batman? Todd? When you're older? Ha ha ha. He's 99% sure he's supposed to be dead and what is this??? Please stop before he barfs.]
You act like you know me, but I sure as hell don't know you. So how about you back up and we talk about this all civilized? Unless acting like an angry attack dog is all you know how to do.
no subject
He slams a foot against the side of Jason's knee way less powerfully than he wants to, just enough to make it loose and unstable, and then he grapples Jason's stupid-ass Western shirt and flips the other boy over his shoulder and on the ground, back down.
But that's all. He takes a few steps back and stands his ground, posture neither defensive nor offensive.] You're a washed-up, picked-over amateur, Todd. I'll only take your threats seriously when you actually amount to something when you're older.
[He tts under his breath.] With you here, it means this is more than merely interdimensional travel.
It means time is involved as well.
no subject
Oh, fuck you. I wasn't even threatening you, you asshole!
[INDIGNANT BIRD NOISES. But, also, he's picking his ass up while keeping an eye on Damian. He already thought this kid was way off his rocker when he initially jumped at him; now he's just completely and utterly certain of it. While he gets the idea of what he's saying, it's just...]
You keep talking, but you're not making any damn sense. When I'm older? I don't know what you think the future's like, but last time I checked— ["—I was worm food," is what he means to say, but he's biting his tongue before the sentence is fully out of his mouth. He's 15 and he remembers dying yesterday and that is terrifying.
...]
Who are you supposed to be, anyway? [And don't say Robin, because he's one second away from flipping.] If you're trying to get me to trust a word that comes out of your mouth, you're failing miserably.
no subject
Everyone else I have asked hasn't met anyone that know personally. But I know you. I know--an older you. [Damian's head turns; he's probably checking their surroundings more thoroughly to make sure no one is coming, or no one is listening, and then he looks directly back at Jason.] Don't take the uniform on and off, or people here will get suspicious.
Where did you put it? Did you hide it?