epidemiology | EVENT ★ WELCOME TO PERDITION'S REST

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EVENT ★ WELCOME TO PERDITION'S REST

ARRIVAL

Recruits leave Oska at midday, with about 10 minutes of final warning given from over jewelcomms. Then the white mist rises as rifts open, and Oska is left behind. When they arrive in the new world, they’ll find themselves aboard a train, specifically seated in the coach traveling compartments. The other passengers -- humanoids with muted skin tones and bright eyes -- have already been notified of their arrival, so although there will be a good deal of curious staring, particularly from children, no one is going to be very alarmed at the strange, eclectic assortment of aliens that suddenly show up on board.

It seems that, for once, recruits will enjoy a peaceful arrival. The dusty scenery flashes by placidly outside the windows, the rumble of wheels is constant and soothing, and there’s even a snack cart that makes its way around (the snacks aren’t free, though -- recruits are provided a modest sum of Qorral currency, and the locals are already interested in getting in on it).

BAD COMPANY

The first sign of trouble appears about two hours after arrival when there’s a faint BOOM and each of the train cars gives a little shudder. That would be the rear train car’s back wall being blown open. The other passengers know exactly what this means, and some lock themselves into traveling compartments while others haul out previously put away shotguns and pistols, ready to do what needs doing.

And what needs doing is to fend off the troupe of bandits that have decided that this train looks ripe for the plucking. They board from the gaping hole they blew in the last car and begin shooting their way up the length of the train, robbing as they go, but they also circle out on their horses (mechanical and only vaguely horse-shaped four-legged contraptions that easily keep pace with the train) to provide an armed and unfriendly escort. They’ll shoot through the windows if anyone looks like a troublemaker, and are old hands at ducking to the other side of their horses to use them as cover from any return fire.

The conductor and all present passengers would really appreciate a hand from any recruits who feel like stepping up. Those not quite ready to engage in a shootout can always keep the civilians locked into the compartments company. They, especially the children, might need some calming words (and the sage advice to keep away from the windows, and stop making faces at the bandits).

The bandits put up a pretty good fight, but will eventually be driven away (hopefully without having snagged too many ill-gotten goods from the hardworking citizens of Perdition’s Rest), and peace falls back over the train. The passengers will be a bit frazzled afterward, though, and no one can quite ignore that whistling sound caused by the missing back wall of the final train car. It’s a long two more hours before they reach their destination.

WELCOME TO PERDITION’S REST

A dusty wooden sign swings on rusted hinges overhead as the train pulls into the station: PERDITION'S REST. The engine finally stills with one puff of smoke, and as the passengers begin to disembark, recruits will find a small group awaits them.

The Mayor, his aide, and the sheriff are gathered just outside the train station, and once everyone is more or less off the train and conveniently gathered, the Mayor will clear his throat for attention.

"I'm guessing y'all had a long ride here, didn't you?" He addresses the crowd calmly, with the kind of voice that doesn't need to be raised much to be heard. "Heard about them bandits.They ain’t gonna trouble you here in town, but best mind your wanderin’. I'm Mayor Mordecai Jones, and Perdition's Rest welcomes your company. You'll find our businesses hospitable and our services ready. We're a quiet place, keep mostly to ourselves and don't bother none. You'll do just fine here if you abide that."

The aide waits quietly as the Mayor speaks, while the sheriff eyes the gathered bunch with a resigned wariness. She, and a few other locals who would be willing to speak up if asked, are of the opinion that they've gotten by just fine for 30 years without anyone's help, and they don't figure they need it now. But they'll tolerate the meddling, so long as everyone plays nice.

Mayor Jones's speech draws to a close with a last note that trouble can be brought to him or to Sheriff Rosamund Holladay, and he, his aide, and Sheriff Holladay break the meeting without further ceremony and head away.

Welcome to Perdition's Rest. It's recommended that you look around a little, familiarize yourself with the place, and find lodgings. It's going to be home for a while.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Mission: Perdition's Rest! This mission will last for around three months, currently slated to end in mid-December. Depending on developments, this schedule is subject to change at our discretion.

You can view the dossier here, which contains information that is ICly known to all characters, no matter their arrival time. You can find locations here.

Please direct all questions pertaining to the mission to the dossier page to keep questions and responses in one place for easy player reference. General game questions should be directed to the FAQ.

The Bounty Board will be updated this weekend, so keep an eye out! Remember you can also request bounty missions or submit player plots at any time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Jason's not overly interested in doing favors for ALASTAIR for their own sake. But when there's reports of missing records, he does stop to take an interest. If there's something about their employers that's worth reading, it's the most direct route to finding out what it is. So. Don't mind if he does.

Of course, the trail's long since gone cold. But while listening in on a few of their more lawless friends who've slipped into the bar under the radar, Jason catches one of them mentioning something interesting. Apparently he'd spotted something strange while taking cover from a sandworm near a particular corner of the fracking fields.

Too crowded in here for a proper conversation. He waits it out. Bandit's drinking buddy leaves. He finishes his drink, then picks up and leaves himself—trailing a little too close behind the barmaid who'd just finished her shift. Jason follows close behind as they set out into the streets. As the bandit picks up the pace and reaches toward his belt for a weapon, he intercepts. Moves in to disarm and wind him, pinning him back against the wall before he can spring any surprises on the unsuspecting. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

The bandit swears loudly when he bounces off the wall. The waitress runs. Smart girl. Meanwhile Jason takes the opportunity to draw a pistol and jam it pointedly under the dirtbag's scruffy chin when he tries to jerk away. Unsurprisingly, it's more than enough to get him to freeze.]

Am I interrupting? [This is, of course, rhetorical. He's interrupting. Hi. The bandit squirms, and he ups the pressure on his collarbone.] Stick around, hoss, I think we might be able to help each other out.

[Time to have themselves a conversation.]

Edited (I'm so tired I can't spell) 2016-10-06 05:13 (UTC)

[Why does everything this guy does have to be so extreme?]

Dude!

[Asher practically spits out the word.

He's been doing his fair share of interviews too, although his methods are admittedly very different. Law school and Annalise Keating have taught him a few things about squeezing facts out of people, but honestly, he's not about this vigilante life just yet.]

What the hell are you doing? We're supposed to be gathering information, not straight up murdering people! Why do you always have to pull the gun ou-

[Ah.

Maybe he's overcompensating for something that happens to be very small...]

[Of course. Couldn't have picked a better time to get all intrepid, huh. He registers the presence at the mouth of the ally before the voice pings in to place him. The Bandit startles at the noise, straining to see what's going on—but doesn't yet struggle. Freezes to bide his time, and relaxing just a hair when Jason shifts so he can pull the barrel of his pistol back and aim it in Asher's direction as a warning—all without even looking up. He won't actually shoot without a better reason—probably, not unless he needs a scare in him—but he does not want him getting any closer until he's got this wrapped up. Interrupting is pretty rude, after all.]

Not now, Scooby. Brakes on and back the hell up, this is a two-person tango.

[He's working, and he'd rather not have to split his attention if he doesn't have to. As noble as the impulse to come to the defense of dirtbags everywhere might feel from Asher's perspective, it's really not helping to do this one-handed.]

[Just seeing that shit is terrifying, mostly because until now he had never worried about a bullet being lodged in his skull.

Jason will be able to hear, nay, feel the exhale on Asher's end. He could choose to run now, but what good will that do? Uruz wasn't kidding when she said that the people of Audentes were trigger-happy, and in this case the description applies quite literally.

But instead of stepping back, Asher remains where he is. His jaw and shoulders may be tight as all hell, but he's sticking to it.]

No.

[His eyes meet those of the bandit Jason happens to be questioning.]

I'm staying right here.

[After a pause, he continues.]

And making sure you don't do anything stupid.

[the irony, amirite]

[He spares the attention to cast a glance back over a shoulder at Asher, dropping the pistol down in favor of a sharp scoff.]

Oh yeah? Gonna be my conscience?

[That's cute. Maybe he shouldn't have gone with "Scooby," then.

Now, to be fair, it doesn't count as trigger happy until he pulls it. And he knows better than to waste bullets. The bandit, meanwhile, takes the opportunity provided by the exchange splitting Jason's attention to grab for a futuristic pistol hidden at his belt. It gets quickly but sloppily raised and aimed—out at the first handy face across the alley. Jason catches on quick enough to wrench it away, but the bandit gets a shot off and it ricochets away from Asher by inches.

Jason wastes no time in shutting this little display of reckless resistance down. Knocking the wind out of him with a knee, wrenching the wrist back until the bones creak. While the bandit painstakingly catches his breath—]

No honor among dustbowl dirtbags, huh? [Saving his own skin at whatever cost. He'd be more surprised if he didn't know better.] Now, Jiminy Cricket and I are going to ask you a few questions, and maybe I'll let my conscience be my guide and let you walk away from here to scavenge another day.

[Maybe. It would be more than he deserves. The bandit nods a battered and breathless agreement to these terms.]

[Asher ducks as soon as the bandit pulls his gun out, cowering feebly beneath his own arms. He may talk big, but this place scares him, hell, space scares him. The sound frightens him, as this is only his second time hearing gunfire, too close for anyone to be comfortable.

How could anyone ever get used to this?

Wincing, he rises back up again right when Jason cracks the other guy's wrist, praying that he'll somehow forget how that sounded. Asher's mouth hangs open before he bites his lip, trying to focus his attention on their current witness.]

Have you seen anything like... Small, squarish, metallic, about yay big?

[He gestures vaguely with his hands, forming something like a square.]

In the sand or something?

[Asher surprises him by asking the right kinds of questions without the benefit of much context. Not as dumb as he looks, maybe.

(Maybe.)

The bandit, however, doesn't seem immediately inclined to understand. Time to refresh his memory.]

You told one of your desperado buddies you saw something fishy in the mines. [There's the recognition. Right on cue.] I'd be much obliged if you could point me in the right direction.

[Two and two add up, and the bandit grudgingly coughs to catch his breath and coughs up the location. (Farthest east side of the fracking fields, half an hour south of the sharper edge of a canyon, far away from the foreman. Hope the sandworms eat you boys whole. Et cetera.)

That wasn't so hard, now, was it. Now, between the bloody shootout on the train and the stalking on the streets, he'd lose very little sleep over putting a bullet in this kind of guy and calling it a night. But hey. He's a man of his word. He'll give his brand new conscience a fair say. He lets up on the bandit's wrist, letting the guy slump back against the alley wall. Then raises his gun and gestures upward with the barrel.]

Hands up, hoss, or my finger's going to start feeling pretty itchy.

[He steps back, putting a little bit of distance put back between them. The battered bandit scowls deeply at him, furious but cornered, and raises his hands slowly as he straightens.]

Well, Jiminy?

[What d'you think?]

[Honestly, it was just a lucky guess.

Asher can't afford to be suspicious of their employers. This little scavenger hunt is his way of proving himself useful to the team, his trophy, if you will. Being here has made him so frightfully aware of his inherent mediocrity that he feels the need to hold something tangible between his fingers, as if to prove to himself that his existence really does have meaning.

That in some shape or form, he is important.

Jason may not have superpowers, but he's clearly cut out for this kind of thing. Is he happy, though? Doesn't seem like it. Maybe he is empty too.]

Shut up, jerkoff.

[That could be misleading.

Asher immediately holds his hands up, reassuring their informant.]

Not you, him.

[Jason hears the reprimand, but doesn't take his eyes off the bandit— who is watching like a hawk for a slim chance to retaliate or run. (He could risk hollering for help, make some noise to draw the lawmen in. But given he's a wanted sort who isn't technically welcome in town in the first place, there's every possibility the Sheriff would turn a blind eye to the stick up. Or lend a hand, for that matter.)]

Is that your final answer? I was expecting something a little more persuasive.

[Being the contrary sort that he is, Jason only gets chattier when Asher actually shows his spine and tells him to can it.]

Something about how I don't really want to do this. Maybe an emphatic dash of you're better than this to really play to the ego.

[He gestures sharply with the gun. The bandit flinches.]

But see, if it were really my conscience talking, I'd think it would bring up the way that train car got blown wide open on the railroad. That bottom feeders like this one are making a living by lying, and killing, and taking until there's nothing left to take, because no one's bothered to shut them down yet.

[From Gotham City to Perdition's Rest. No matter where you are, it's always the same old story. The bandit's been trying to edge away along the alley during this damning accusation. Jason thumbs the safety off his pistol.]

My conscience is telling me that I let him go now and there's nothing stopping buddy boy from coming back with a posse while we're off treasure hunting.

[Does that sound like justice to you?]

I don't think you care either way.

[When he explains it like that, Jason really does have a point.

Asher watches the man they're holding captive now, staring the barrel of Jason's gun down. He's not used to paying such close attention to people who aren't the object of his romantic pursuits, but with this much distance between this place and home, it's hard not to.]

What if you kill him and his buddies come after us?

[Uttered darkly, after a beat or two.

Jason's bitterness is greater than any Asher has ever seen, resentment and darkness brimming from the very way he carries himself. There's something tight about it, wrapped up in that sneer, in the blue eyes that should be bright but only look empty.]

What about you?

[Mentioned to the bandit.]

Do you feel like dying today?

[Asher isn't one to stick up for criminals or thugs, not if their way of life affects the innocent. Living a privileged life, much less one under a judge whose morality seemed staunch and immovable, has given the 1L a narrow outlook.

His wounds may have healed, but he remembers being attacked in the bar just a few days ago by a group of hooligans much like this one, and he's feeling particularly spiteful.]

[The bandit freezes at the question and holds his hands up as if in surrender, spitting denials and curses in the same breaths. Ten points to Gryffindor, Neville. Jason doesn't really care what Asher has to say about the matter. That he's got a peanut gallery complicates things from a logistical standpoint, but it doesn't really change the bottom line.

Bandit Bob's buddies could come after him and it would just save him the trouble of tracking them down later. But Jason can't be everywhere at once. The barrel of his gun tilts upward. He steps back, spreading his hands in an exaggerated way.]

Tell you what, hoss. I'm a fair man. I keep my promises. Since you were nice enough to help me out, I'll let you go scurrying back to whatever miserable hole you crawled out of.

[Sounds too good to be true, really. The bandit stumbles back as soon as the gun isn't aimed at him anymore, favoring his wounded wrist. When he reaches for his own weapon at his belt, Jason crosses the distance to aim the barrel of his gun just inches away from his forehead. Dead center.]

Long as when you get there, you tell your buddies that their rustling days are done. Capiche?

[He doesn't actually expect it to work in any appreciable way. Not this early. But you start somewhere. Making a name for yourself has to happen in particular ways. Gotta have the clout behind it. One of the ways to do that is to start a rumor, then follow up. If you can't start with an upper hand born of years of familiarity, months of preparation, you find another way. Give them a chance to cross you so you can prove you mean business.]

If I see any of you around again, I'm not going to be quite as magnanimous. That's a promise, too.

[If looks could kill, he'd be in hotter water right now. But all the bandit's glare does is roll off his shoulders. Bandit Bob stumbles out of the alley and then runs, vanishing out into the dark.]

Edited (2 tired 2 type) 2016-10-24 05:25 (UTC)

Whoaaaa, sick!

[Asher places his hands on his hips triumphantly, as if he's actually accomplished something.

He hasn't. Jason literally handled everything.]

Guess that makes us partners in crime now, huh?

[r u talking 2 jason???

like r u rly... talkin... 2 him]

[Yes, that's helpful. Jason doesn't bat an eye, too busy watching the bandit's back when he bolts and marking the direction. Sure, he'll probably circle around somewhere to try to cover his tracks, but there's no accounting for cleverness in common criminals. It's probably the right direction to start in.

But that's later. First things first.]

Be quiet.

[Quickly, he hops up to higher ground—stone fence to low-hanging stable roof—to get a rapid lay of the land and be sure they didn't draw any unwanted attention. (One gunshot doesn't seem to have been enough to alert the law. The bandit could be stupid enough to try to get back at them with a potshot.) When he's sure the coast is clear, he drops back to ground level next to Asher.

Who is...still here. Apparently he expects an answer to that rhetorical question.]

Go home, Boy Wonder. I'm not in the market for a sidekick.

Edited 2016-10-29 16:54 (UTC)

[He watches Jason make that move effortlessly, mouth hanging open as he does.

Yet another reminder that he and the others here are worlds apart, quite literally.]

I'm not-

[Asher seeks friendship and approval, but he's aware that he's done little to deserve any of that. Information digging is one of his few marketable skills, something he's gotten a chance to practice in his own way. Determined to prove that superpowers and fist-fighting aren't all that make a man, he continues:]

I just want to find the rest of this shit, okay?

I want to know if I can trust them.

[Alastair.]

[Come on, Asher, you've got the same amount of superpowers that he does!!! Just apply yourself better.

Given that the Millstone Meatsicle wound up actually asking the right kinds of questions unprompted—and unexpectedly—during their little impromptu interrogation, it doesn't take much brainpower to figure out which them Asher is referring to.

He aches a brow in Asher's direction, then starts moving. Out toward the edges of town and the fracking fields. There's no invitation given to follow, but it's not a hard pace to keep up with.]

Sounds like you're answering your own question.

[Can he trust them? Not with things as they are, not without putting out a whole lot of unearned faith in the honesty of largely faceless strangers. Doesn't sound like he can do that, or he'd be well on his way already. If anything, it makes him something of an outlier. The blind trust that most of the crew hands over to their new employers is pretty shocking. Maybe most people are just inclined to want to belong to something bigger than themselves. Take the path of least resistance when faced with the unknown. (Eager and unprepared idiots who'll get themselves killed if given half a chance. Kids turned child soldiers.)]

What d'you think you're gonna find? A handwritten note letting you know it's safe to drink the kool-aid?

[After all, ALASTAIR tasked them with retrieving the information in the first place. Could be a whole lot of nothing.]

I get that it seems like ALASTAIR wants to help other people, and if that's really their mission then fine, but...

[Jason's right about that.

Asher wants to finally be a part of something that's not wholly terrible, to work for a boss who doesn't destroy people's lives. Annalise does a lot of good but her methods are questionable at best, and she doesn't seem to particularly care for people's feelings.]

I don't wanna keep doing this if we're screwing someone over.

Someone we don't know about.

[David Allen had been rotting in jail for what, over 20 years?

That's almost as long as Asher has been alive. The realization hits him then and there, quieting him as he tries to keep up. He vaguely remembers his first time visiting a fancy restaurant where the waiters took coats and the women looked like they belonged in movies; he couldn't have been older than five or six. His family had been celebrating a recent career victory of his father's, a promotion...

Were they toasting to the lifelong imprisonment of an innocent human being, too?

He doesn't want that to happen again.]

Edited 2016-11-26 00:38 (UTC)

[You think Annalise's methods are questionable at best but you're following at the heels of a guy who just interrogated a bandit at gunpoint, look at your life choices rn Asher.]

Funny how they never seem to ask if you want to keep doing this or not.

[Sure, you could kick back in the Saloon for the rest of the mission out of protest, but that's about it. For volunteer work, it's pretty damn compulsory.]

Wonder what happens when preserving the timeline and helping other people start becoming mutually exclusive.

[Just theoretically. After all, one of those is their actual mission statement. The latter? Not in so many words. Even here, preventing the destruction of the planet has nothing to do with their primary goal. Just looking into the people planning on hollowing it out.]

Edited 2016-11-26 01:17 (UTC)

[tbf... that guy was a jerk, a thug and a criminal?! juSTICE]

I was wondering the same thing, to be honest.

[Asher's brows furrow.

Everyone he's seen seems to comply with ALASTAIR'S demands, but he's never heard of anybody whose started a mutiny. Funny, very funny.]

Like what if you don't want to go along with any of this?

If you choose to fight back?

Edited 2016-11-26 01:53 (UTC)

[Now you're getting it.]

What would you do if you did?

[Choose to fight back. Mostly rhetorical, but for once, it's not at all ironic, or antagonistic, or dismissive. Just pointed and deliberate.]

Take out the crew?

[If you don't mind that lion's share of them are in the same boat as you are—or worse. Conscripted and clueless with their old lives held hostage against them. Would ALASTAIR even blink if you wiped them out? (Or tried to. Kolitra-shaped evidence points to no.) Or would they just send in a new team of unlucky and conscripted johns to take over?]

Sabotage the mission?

[That, they might respond to a little more earnestly. You'd have to decide if it's worth the lives of all the people here on the planet. You'd have to know how to make it count, how to stop the powers that be from working around you to defuse it. Checks and balances and collateral damage for greater gains. The problem with figuring out if it's worth it—so much of ALASTAIR is still under wraps.]

No, no I-

[Asher's tone could be mistaken for anger, that is, until his shoulder's fall and his voice gets a good deal softer.]

I like the crew.

[More than they do him, probably. More than the people back home, in some ways.

At the very least, he can name one or two people who actually pay him some attention. While he's aware that he's little more than entertainment for some more mischievous souls on the network, that's still something, isn't it? If he were to be gone, he'd be missed in some way, and that's better than an absence going unnoticed.

There are so many teammates he's come to admire.]

Some of them, anyway... And I'm not saying I'm here to rock the boat, or anything...

I just don't know how harsh they are. And I don't know if I'd still be willing to work for them if I found out-

[Something very, very bad.]

If I found out how harsh they could be.

Edited 2016-11-26 03:01 (UTC)

EVENT ★ WELCOME TO PERDITION'S REST

bounty business wildcard, finally

1/?

2/?

3/3 ill edit these tags i s2g just let me have this

I don't believe that for a minute.

1/? im so sorry for all the part replies

2/2

icki I swear

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do u ever type a tag that makes u feel SUPER embarrassed

look at this drama queen, of course I do

800 yrs late

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i'm so sorry

smh

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