
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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Because he has not come to fame yet in 1488. He is—becomes—quite famous for a treatise he writes. I would even call it a foundational work of Western literature.
[ And one that Hannibal personally enjoys. It's not quite what drew him to the city, but it was certainly a part of the art that captured his imagination. Florence was so rich with it that it was one among many. ]
Though I will admit, I would know more than most. One of the reasons I came to Florence was to teach, after all. Dante Alighieri was often the subject of my lectures, but the history of the Italian arts in broad strokes is an interest and specialty of mine.
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[In his time, Machiavelli was only 19 years old, yet he acted like he knew everything about the Brotherhood. It was frustrating at times.]
Ah, my great-great-grandfather actually studied under Dante Alighieri. He had a great influence on my family from my understanding. It's... strange to hear of all this, but there's something interesting about it as well. Is it safe to assume, though, that the Auditore name never came up in your lectures or even your own studies?
[Ezio asks if he's almost disappointed as most people would be if all of their friends had become famous and they hadn't. Yet he knew his name, his family, their true purpose... None of that could be known. Even Domenico Auditore had known that, as he left their history behind in a crypt below Monteriggioni.]
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[ He does seem quietly excited about it to some degree. It's pretty clear that Hannibal is a man whose emotions tend to come in softer degrees or naturally run cool, but his smile conveys his fascination easily. ]
But no, it has not, I am afraid. I only know it as a very municipality in the Province of Pesaro e Urbino. I have passed through it once or twice, but I'm afraid I know nothing of the namesake.
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[Ezio laughs, though some of his own words are nagging at him. His future isn't something he's used to thinking about, aside from things like planning to kill the Pope.]
Although you might not be my first choice for who to spend the night with, I think we'll get along fine, Signor Lecter. I hope you won't mind my occasional questions about the future, mostly to do with inventions... but you can also feel free to ask me about my time and I will do my best to answer.
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But that's all well underneath the surface of pleased politeness. He nods lightly as Ezio mentions questions of the future, and he beats him to what he had planned to ask in return. ]
That is all I would ask. As a scholar, it's quite fascinating. I will attempt not to bore you too much with my questions that may seem quite inane.
[ He looks to Ezio's wrists as he continues to indicate the blades hidden there. ]
I would be glad to answer any questions you may have. You've quite an interesting invention yourself, so the interest may be mutual.
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[He flicks his wrist again, and the blade pops out once more. One more flick, and it's gone. His gestures are practiced to the point of being second nature.]
It's not as interesting as you may think. It's a weapon, I could have easily been given my sword or dagger instead. As for my questions... hm.
[Hannibal's lucky he hasn't seen the toilet or shower yet, since he would be asking about that.]
Would it be safe to assume people in the future are less likely to carry weapons on their person? But also that... those handheld firearms, those are a more popular choice, no?