[ WEEK ONE – ARRIVAL ]

[sheriffexe]

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!

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Comments

[impulsiveness]

option a: immediately post-arrival.

[And as everyone begins to slowly shuffle off the platform, Jason will hang back, almost as if rooted to the spot. This isn't exactly anything out of the ordinary, of course, considering the current situation. Everyone is confused. Everyone is upset. Everyone is wondering what the heck is going on here. But it's safe to say that not everyone is wearing an outfit that looks like it belongs in a circus — which also happens to be heavily stained with blood.

Should anyone happen to stare at him, he'll slowly meet their gaze. Blink. Stare back. Suck in a sharp, quiet breath like he's just now realizing he can.]

Hi. [A BEAT. And then he gestures at his bloodied clothing.] Don't worry. Most of this is mine.

[Said like it's meant to be reassuring. Which, uh, it's not??? He doesn't seem to be visibly injured, at least.

Or, ITP: Whoever picked the one outfit he got to keep from home has a nasty sense of humor.]

option b: later, near the table.

[Still in the same outfit but significantly less out of it, Jason can be found picking up the key to his room. He twirls his copy between his fingers, almost considering, before turning to anyone who happens to be close enough.]

So... Any ideas what this whole shebang's supposed to be?

[Humor him? Or don't. He's just curious.]

option c: saturday, around.

[Having swapped his previous outfit for something from the store, Jason will spend most of his Saturday snooping around town. Feel free to bump into him at the hotel, the town, or inside any of the other buildings in this place, as he'll be sticking his nose into everything. Figuratively and literally, of course. Around breakfast, lunch and dinner, he might even be found in the kitchen, squinting away at ingredients and trying to put something edible together.

Say hi? Or try to mooch food off him. It's all good.]

option d: wildcard.

[Come at me with your own scenario!]

a.

[glaring]

[ Yeah she's staring, where did they even get you, child, are you a cosplayer or something—well that sure is blood. ]

That's absolutely something to worry about!

[ Shouts the girl who is equally covered in her own blood, with a giant hole in the stomach of her shirt. ]

Are you alright?

[impulsiveness]

Kind of the pot calling the kettle black.

[Gestures at the hole in her shirt??? And side steps that question like a pro. He is definitely Not Okay but that's not something he wants to examine too closely.]

Are you alright? I've heard of pants with holes in 'em, but shirts with holes don't sound like cutting edge fashion.

[glaring]

[ ...well she's catching that, but she'll have to question him later. ]

There was no avoiding ruining one of my favourite tops. [ ...pause. ] More importantly, my injury seems to have disappeared. Please tell me that's the case with you.

wildcard, yo.

[tightly]

[ Getting into her hotel room for the first night, Chane can't quite be sure what she expected. This whole situation is bewildering in a way that might make her uncomfortable, were it not for Claire's equal presence and calming influence. What she definitely did not expect was... Jason.

One (1) Jason.

Possibly not wearing pants? (Stay tuned to find out!)

Frowning, she knocks on the bedpost to announce herself, hoping to draw his attention, and then... spreads her hands, because she's utterly devoid of any way to communicate and not sure what is going on. ]

[impulsiveness]

[Definitely not wearing pants. Or, at least, the type of pants a young teenager should be wearing. He'll say they're shorts if asked, but... Well. They ain't.

He's inspecting one of the trunks when he hears her knock on the bedpost, which in turn causes him to almost slam his head into the open lid out of surprise. He recovers quickly enough, turning around to face her, but someone sure is jittery today. Must be the whole kidnapping thing.]

Whoa— Hey there. [Standing up. Glancing at the other bed. Uh.] You must be my... roomie?

[... UNSURE.

Unfortunately for her, he has no idea what is going on, either. Sorry.]

[tightly]

[ ...

Oh.

She hadn't meant to cause that, although she's far from the type to wince empathetically. Rather, Chane's look of appraisal is cool, almost a bit too composed, and she nods at his question. ]

a

[hydrokinetics]

[After his mini-pow wow with Annabeth and the two parted ways, he turned and. Yeah. Kinda ended up meeting Jason's eye. He can't really say much since his own clothes are ripped and possibly bloody in some places but he tilts his head like he's deciding if that's a good thing or a bad thing.]

Most of it's probably better than all of it. [SHRUG? He gets it, probably.] Still bleeding?

[impulsiveness]

[He snorts at that, but it's halfhearted with no real humor behind it. At Percy's question, however, he picks at the sleeve of his shirt. There seems to be a particularly bloody tear there, but no injury on his shoulder. Huh.]

Nope. Not even a scratch. Guess that's one thing to be happy about.

[And then he glances at him.]

What about you? You look like you've been through the grinder.

[hydrokinetics]

[He doesn't say it out loud, but his face says "something like that" even as he watches Jason pick at his sleeve. That bothers him. Not that Jason's bloody, whatever, he's dealt with bloody Jasons before. He's bothered that there are more people here who were injured and appear to be healed now.]

Couple of scratches but what else is new? [Shit happens when you're a demigod and he's already thinking about finding a shower or a lake to try and heal up a little.] Can't say I know how that happened though.

b.

[insincerely]

[Shinnosuke's looking a little light-headed, because that's what happens when you're hungry as hell, but he's at least conscious enough that he has no problem snarking.]

Some producer's trying to make a B-list Wild West movie or reality TV show, but they couldn't hire actual actors, so they decided to abduct people instead?

Or we're all dead and this is some kind of really messed up afterlife.

[impulsiveness]

What, and they could ask some random nobody on the street to be part of their reality TV show? It's not like there's a shortage of schmucks trying to make it big.

[Rude, Jason. But it's not like he has it in him to be polite about this subject matter. He twirls the key in his hand a couple more times, mulling over the word "afterlife."]

I'd buy that. But which circle of hell would this be? Not sure where "cowboy fetish" fits.

[insincerely]

No one said they had to be sane.

[Shinnosuke wouldn't be completely surprised if he were, in fact, dead, considering his circumstances before this, but... yeah, cowboy fetish is hard to incorporate??]

Depending on which religion we're talking about here, there's a lot of hell realms, isn't there? I'm sure that if they're keeping up with the times, a cowboy fetish could be inserted into one of them.

aaaaaaa

[coudre]

[ that outfit

lmao ]

I'm more worried about your lack of fashion sense than some silly old bloodstains.

[ everybody probably looks a lot more bothered than nui does. while most of the faces on the platfor mare upset, she's all smiles. ]

[impulsiveness]

[RUDE???? THIS IS RUDE???? Jason will pretend to be way more offended than he really is, clutching his chest with one hand. At least dealing with rude little shits is grounding, if nothing else.]

What, you don't think the stoplight look is all the rage? [Overly theatrical. But also??? Screw you, lady.] Shame on you.

slaps you

[bittybat]

[Jason didn't go unnoticed. Not at all. NOT AT ALL. Damian committed everything to memory, and, unfortunately, Damian can recognize exactly that style of Robin suit and who it belonged to, and--Damian is sure what to think.

So he doesn't engaged for a long time. Robin disappears, and another, photograph-familiar boy appears. All of Saturday. Damian avoids Jason like the plague right up until he's about to bust wanting answers. Also unfortunately: Damian isn't the best at greetings.

Jason gets one hell of one.

On Jason's way to the kitchen, Damian lies in wait, hidden, then leaps suddenly out low when the other boy passes to try to sweep feet clean of the floor.]

help im being bullied

[impulsiveness]

[Well. Jason's meal plans sure are going down the drain.

Maybe it's his paranoia. Maybe it's how tense he's been since he arrived here, waiting for the ball to drop and for all of this to be some fucked up, pre-mortem hallucination. Or, maybe it's how excellent a teacher Bruce has been to him over the years. But whatever the case, Jason (barely) manages to not get knocked flat on his ass when this asshole decides to leap at him.

He still stumbles on the spot where he lands, however, not having expected the attack. The spurs on his new boots jingle as he takes a step back to try and keep his balance. Cute.]

Dude— What the hell?! What gives?!

[Why is his attacker like, 5-year-old??? God. It's official. He's put off western movies for the rest of his not-life.]

c :)

[sating]

[ As Jason is working on dinner, it's not long before the door opens behind him. There's an elegant man that enters the kitchen, and he looks mildly surprised to see someone else here. He's a bit early to be cooking, since he's cooking for (at least) two, but it seems he's not the only one considering an early meal. ]

Hello. I hope you won't mind if I join you.

[ He's polite, at least, and Hannibal steps inside to take a better look at the big kitchen. It's certainly big enough for the two of them, which is what he's concerned about, but that at least passes his criteria. It's not his personal kitchen, but he'll make do. He takes off his suit jacket and sets it on a hook, then begins to roll up his crisp, cleanly pressed sleeves as he walks around the kitchen to take better stock. ]

It's lucky that our gracious hosts have at least given us a large kitchen to work with.

[impulsiveness]

[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.]

C IS FOR HI KYUU

[ceded]

[ How about running into this small girl at the graveyard?

Like many, Xion is exploring, her natural curiosity leading her to comb as much of the town as they can access right now. It's so... empty, and sad, and she can't help this feeling like something is strange about that. How can there be nobody here? Not even any Heartless?

Her midday wanderings have her moving towards the graveyard. It's a vaguely sort of familiar place - at least, she's seen graves before, and she doesn't move with any apprehension. She still seems curious, mostly.

At least until she gets close enough to read the graves.

That's when she gasps aloud, clapping her hand to her mouth. After a moment frozen in place, she rushes about, reading grave after grave until she finds...

... her own? ]

I... why does this have my name on it? Are these all our names?

[ Xion takes a knee, so she can reach out and brush her fingers over the tombstone, the dry dirt. She's so caught up that she hasn't noticed she isn't alone. ]

What... is this?

[impulsiveness]

[Same, Xion. Same.

Jason's reaction isn't as explosive (ha ha) as her's. He manages to keep a straight face even as his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach, a lump forming in his throat as he finds a grave with the name Jason Todd on it — but he already thought himself to be dead. After discussing the possibility of this being the afterlife with a number of people, finding this is just... Well.

He doesn't know what to think of it. He doesn't want to think of it, so he doesn't. Instead, he focuses on the girl freaking out a couple of rows down. He approaches her just in time to see her brush her fingers over the tombstone, hearing her wonder what the heck this is supposed to be. For her sake, however, he makes sure his footsteps are loud enough to not startle her when he speaks up.]

Dunno. But if I had to guess? Either someone has a really messed up sense of humor, or they were expecting us.

[... And expecting them to use those pistols, too. How fun.]

b; later

[beyeotic]

I have a number of ideas.

[When Ana does locate her key, she takes a more firm hold of it than this jokester is.]

None of them good.

[Having some semblance of experience, it's just realistic. While she's optimistic about what they can do about their situation, that isn't the questions she was asked.]

[impulsiveness]

Mind sharing with the class, then?

["The class" being... just him. Don't be a smart ass, Jason Todd.]

Just curious. I've got my own ideas, but I wanna know what someone else thinks.

c

[stentorian]

[Manfred doesn't want to mooch food off him, but he IS here to be a poophead.]

Aren't you a little young to be a chef, boy?

[Wow, don't judge, Manfred. Let the kid do his cooking.]

[impulsiveness]

[Just. Giving Manfred a flat look over his shoulder for all of two seconds, before turning back to his cooking.]

Aren't you a little old to be sticking your nose in other people's business, gramps?