robowest | [ WEEK ONE

ARRIVAL

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!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Jason's still holding a can of beans in his hand, but he tilts his head to look at Hannibal as he comes in. He gives him a look over, noticing his fancy attire, before shrugging.]

You're fine. It's not like this is my kitchen.

[Public space. And it wouldn't be very nice of him if he kicked someone out of the kitchen for no reason at all, anyway. He moves to look for a can opener when Hannibal speaks up, and then he snorts.]

Yeah, I guess "lucky" is one way to put it. But if they're giving us this much free range, you gotta wonder what the hell they want from us.

[He's surprised nothing he's eaten so far is poisoned with something immediately fatal? Though, then again, their "hosts" wouldn't have patched him and the others up just to kill them off (again). Probably. That's assuming the people who set this up operate by some sort of logic.]

[ With the permission given, Hannibal continues his search in earnest. He's not sure what he'll make, but the first part is just looking to see what he has available. Though if he does find some, he'll definitely take the nicest cut of beef he can find. The meat is the center of many of his dishes, so he can at least be quite certain he'll be using that. ]

It is the optimistic way of putting it. But I would take that in the moment over anything else. Except perhaps "perplexing," but that may as well go without saying.

[ Hannibal pulls a knife out of the knife block and idly checks it over, since a chef having good knives is crucial, naturally. They're not what he would pick which makes him sigh lightly, but he sets it next to his chosen cut of meat anyways. ]

We can only hope that our colorful host will be more forthcoming sooner rather than later.

Edited 2017-01-15 01:35 (UTC)

[How methodical of him. While Hannibal is off searching for cutlery and ingredients like someone who knows what they're doing, Jason is just... throwing something that looks edible together. Fast gratification over presentation.]

You heard the Sheriff, didn't you? He said he'll give us an explanation on Sunday, so — tomorrow, I guess. Only question is if he plans to be helpful, or if he's just going to feed us more cryptic mumbo-jumbo. [A shrug.] Probably the latter, though.

[Also, he is totally just throwing all his ingredients in one skillet and turning it into some slop he'll later cram between two slices of bread.

Somewhere out there, Alfred is crying.]

[ Alfred? I think you mean Hannibal Lecter. Because even though he makes a mild sound of agreement to what Jason says, he pauses before answering. The idea of sharing a kitchen with someone hadn't bothered him, but as he looks up to see the travesty that Jason is making in that skillet, he really cannot help himself at all.

]

...Pardon me for noticing, but— Would you like assistance?

[Just. Adds more salt to this culinary disaster. Glances at Hannibal like he's not entirely sure what he's offering.]

With what?

[The kitchen isn't on fire??? He's got everything under control????? STOP CLUTCHING YOUR PEARLS, POLITE VORE MAN.]

A meal.

[ Hannibal is just blunt with that one, since there's no need to beat around the bush with that. There's no salvaging the travesty that's happening. ]

I'll be cooking for more than myself regardless. May I offer you a plate?

[ WEEK ONE – ARRIVAL ]

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for the record im still crying

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