
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 robowest! |
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[A sigh.]
He's presumably going to tell us eventually, but I'm pretty much stuck on how, myself.
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Probably by speaking. [ A cheeky glint fleets through his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it came. He knows what she really meant. ] How we got here would give us a better idea on how to leave. I don't think that train runs on any regular schedule.
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[It's not a serious suggestion, obviously. An engineer, she is not.]
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- Fire. A really big one. Might draw someone's attention since it seems like this place was abandoned before we got here.
[ ...He's not the brilliant ideas guy of his outfit of friends. ]
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[A small pause, and a nod to herself.]
We're fucked. Calling it now.
[Just think of what she'll be saying tomorrow.]
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He does smile wryly, though. ]
It's a pretty bleak outlook, isn't it? Food's decent, at least.
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[Or not, given the deadpan tone in her voice. She knows that isn't what he meant, besides, so she's moving on. She's just going to start panicking again if she keeps thinking about this.]
So, who're you?
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Harry. [ That'll do. If she were going to recognize him, she would have most likely done so by now, with or without his name. ] You?
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[A noncommittal shrug.]
I would say nice to meet you, but this is kind of a shitshow. You get it.
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Right, it's mediocre-at-best to meet you, too. [ This is how you make friends, apparently. ]
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[A pause.]
I hope I don't have to say that, but please don't actually burn anything down.
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Maybe we ought to spell out S.O.S with rocks instead. [ You know, one of the other typical lost-with-no-escape ideas. ]
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You think that would work?
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[But, before that...]
You're real attached to that stick, huh?
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You could say that. It's...sentimental.
[ A sentimental stick. ]
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Do I want to ask?
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I'm, um, practicing to be a magician.
[ You know, pulling rabbits out of hats and such. ]
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[ He will 100% regret saying this in 24 hours or so. ]
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[ He sounds way too much like he doubts his own story. ]
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I would point out that you're an awful liar, but something tells me you already know that.
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I can at least say I tried.
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[A pause.]
You want to tell me what it's actually for?
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