The Train Job

[Laird_Thorne]

The Train Job

Doddsville, Kansas, 1884

The last few months have been a bit strained for you. Whether you were on a cattle drive, taming a town, playing cards on a riverboat or in a saloon or just existing day to day, your nerves have been worn down and you needed a change of scenery. As such, you've ended up in Doddsville Kansas, a small train stop town west of Topeka and on the Empire Rails line. While taking a breather and just relaxing for a change, you are approached by a white-haired, middle-aged individual who asks to speak to you.

"I hope you'll forgive my intrusion and give me a moment of your time. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Quinton Morris and I am the Empire Rails representative in this area. I find myself in a bit of a quandry. I need to bring on a few hands to help me guard a mail train headed west.

It should be about an eight day round-trip and I'm offering ten dollars a day, decent food, and a place to spread your bedroll for that time. What do you say?"

Edited January 22 by Laird_Thorne (see edit history)

[Inquisitor D]

The woman's leaning back against the outer wall of the general store. She's flipping through a copy of the Tombstone Epitaph, scanning it rather than paying attention to anything specific. The moment the white haired gent calls to her, she folds the paper, placing it down into a chair on the store's deck and bringing a hand up to straighten her glasses. She watches Quinton with a hawk's intensity, and there's a glint in her eye when the direction of the train comes up. All the same, after a moment's awkward silence, the strange woman nods.

"Wasn't exactly planning on heading back west. But that's a kind offer, Mr. Morris. Appreciate it. If you're looking to make this a round trip, I've got no problem."

Her voice has a harsh tenor to it. While the stranger doesn't look like much, covered up by a hefty looking duster, there's a strength to her voice, a certainty. Perhaps a danger. She offers Morris an outstretched hand, happy to shake on the deal. If he's amenable, the stranger falls in behind him.

"You expecting trouble? Or did something happen to the old lot?"

[Lwmons]

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Mr. Maxwell Miracle

Of all the ways to get run out of a town, the least they could have done is allow him to keep one of his horses... At least then maybe he wouldn't have to have made the last few days trek on foot. Or perhaps if they had thought of talking things out with him instead of quite literally firing on him as he fled... Yes, it's their fault he's in this predicament. Assuming anything else is pointless, it'd be plain wrong to thing, in fact.

To the outside observer, on approach to the train station was a grumpy old man, mumbling to himself about who knows what, and quite literally dragging a weighty suitcase beside him, stopping every few feet to correct his posture or adjust his grip, ultimately trying to mask the great amount of effort that the task is clearly requiring of him.

Finally bringing himself to a proper resting spot, he hefts his luggage right alongside a bench, which he allows himself to retire into, offering a friendly nod and a tip of his hat to the young woman sitting opposite him. He's not particularly in the mood for small talk, judging by his expression, his mood soured from who knows what, though his features soften as he pulls a fresh cigar from his pocket, the perfect treat to help him catch his breath.

As Quinton approaches and introduces himself to the young woman, a pistolero perhaps?, he muses to himself, he opts to stay silent, though in his head he begins thinking things through more thoroughly. He's not likely to recollect his scuttled chatel, though with this town having a station, and a train so soon to depart no less, it gives him the perfect opportunity to skip town without his most recent marks having the opportunity to pursue, should they feel so inclined. An eight day round trip is surely long enough for the trail to go cold, no?

 

[Shorikid]

Orrin sat the bench outside the train station and leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees as he looked up and down the boarded walks of Doddsville. Taking his hat off to dust the brim a bit and pick away a few burrs that had stuck from the last high wind he had sat through out on the trail. He was dusty and worn head to heel and just looked tired. A man in need of a respite, a cool shady place to rest up an' heal up for a couple of days. His eyes cut back and forth between a couple of the people there before raking a hand through the mop of dark hair and fit his hat back into place. As he settled it down into place, he straightened up as a fella with far too nice and clean a set of cloths came out of the depot office.

Squinting against the bright sun that back lit the old man that addressed a folks milling about near the line's ticket window. He made his offer and Orrin did the math in his head. Eight days and he could make more than two months pushing cows, or what he could make law doggin' down near the Coyote Territories. His mouth twisted a bit as the young slip of a girl spoke up, gettin' in some good questions. She had a sharper edge to her voice than you would expect for such a little thing, but took all kinds to make it west of the Mississippi. The slicked up fella with the suitcase big enough for everything Orrin had ever owned to fit in introduced himself to the girl, taking in the whole thing. Leaning back a bit, Orrin lifted his chin a bit in an upward nod, "How much trouble you expecting on this mail train mister? Ten dollars a day is might good pay to sit and eat your food for the next week." He was quick to add, "Not that I mind a bit of trouble for those kinda dollars. Just like to be around to collect them."

 

[TiffanyKorta]

Jessie Mae

---

When you became, or were born into, being a witch you learned to listen to what the magic was telling you. So when she'd begun to feel a sense of dread the closer she got to Wichita she decided to stick to her gut (and the stories she'd heard) and get off at the first station the train arrived at.

 

Hatbox in head she stood at the station, a little lost as to what to do next, when opportunity seemed to present itself. Not one to ignore such things she went to stand behind the others, content for now to listen to the sales pitch as the others that were listening to the pitch and asking the questions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[mmmfish]

'A real change of scenery,' the gunslinger thought to himself as he looked over the rolling plains of Kansas. Sitting firmly in the middle of nowhere, his eyes just looked far into the horizon as his hands rolled a quirly. It wasn't a moment after he lit his cigarette that the stranger introduced himself. Strange colored eyes moved placidly to Mr. Morris' own before Atticus gave a soft nod of his head. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Morris, names Atticus Beauregard," he paused for a moment, "Hard to pass up Imperial actual, and I assume my horse'll be taken care of?"

Atticus stood after a moment, extending a hand to the older gentleman, "Consider me your man, point me to my train."

[Clockwork Writer]

Gwen didn't know for sure why she was in Doddsville. It seemed so out of the way, just a little piece of nowhere on the way to somewhere, and yet here she was. A ride along on the wagon with some folks who didn't mind having an extra pair of helpful hands only for the wagon to break a wheel and the folks to decide to stick around for a while rather than try to get it fixed right away. It may have seemed strange if most of Gwen's recent travels didn't tend to go along the same way. It might not seem to make much sense in the moment, but she usually found herself where the Lord needed her in the end.

Following her feet she took a casual stroll through town, considering if she might need to find a place to bunk for a few days and hoping for a sign before she made up her mind when she happened to pass close enough to hear a gentleman making an offer to a few interesting-looking folk. A small grin tugged at her lips and she sent off a silent prayer of thanks before drawing closer. Keeping her head down and the brim of her hat low she did her best to sound like a boy, not bothering to disguise her usual enthusiasm.

"You really paying so much for folks just to protect your stuff Mister," she asked. "Could I hire along too? That's the way I'm suppose to be going to meet up with my Pa and I'd like do show him I did some good work when I see him. I'll be right helpful, I promise." She moved her poncho enough to show the six-shooter at her waist for the briefest moment, aiming to get the point across that she wouldn't be deadweight if there was trouble. Of course she wasn't a fan of giving anyone a false impression but it was best sometimes and she hadn't told a lie. After all she would be meeting up with her Pa some day going any direction the Lord sent her in, and she did want to be able to show she had done some good works along the way. She just wouldn't actually be meeting up with the man for what would hopefully be a very long while.

 

[Laird_Thorne]

Doddsville, Kansas, 1884

Morris nodded, calmly listening to your questions and thinking a moment before replying as he shook the extended hands.

"I'm not expecting trouble, I just would hate for it to come and be caught short-handed as it were. It's really not more than a mail and passenger train, but given the nature of things with Vermillion and Iron Dragon both trying to expand this way I prefer caution, even if it means spending a bit extra. "

A pleasure to meet you Atticus.

He turned to Gwen with a smile. "If you know how to use that hogleg you're welcome. Or even if not, if you can cook, you would be welcome too. "

He sighed, relaxing a bit as he looked at each of you. "Get a good nights rest. The train leaves at noon tomorrow and if you're there it'll be welcome aboard. If not, no hard feelings."

 

---

OOC: let me know if there's anything in particular you want to do before the next morning, you all are free to interact, etc over dinner at the boarding house and I'll move things along to the next day when things play out. :)

Edited February 23 by Laird_Thorne (see edit history)

[Inquisitor D]

The woman with glasses nods at Morris' words, a glint of familiarity behind her glasses.

"Yeah. Best not take chances with the Great Names. They get petty."

She'd ridden the Iron Dragon most of the way here. Not like there was another line she could've taken outta Washington. Still, you heard stories from down south. If Vermillion's anything like the Dragon, they're caught right between two monsters. Makes sense to plan for the worst

She glances between her three fellow newly minted railhands. "Guess we're all on this one together." The two men look right at home for this kind of work. A kid joining them's a novelty. But many hands, and she's heard nothing of family nearby looking for a runaway. Maybe she really is planning to meet up with her dad. At worst, she's just one more person on the road, making their way as best they can. No shame in that. The woman offers all three of her confirmed fellow guards a hand to shake. "Coro. Pleasure. Don't often get invited to this sorta thing."

The words are brusque, routine rather than felt, but not hostile. Once Coro is done with her introduction, she turns to the pair of onlookers; the ones who had been listening to Morris' pitch but hadn't spoken up like the kid. "You folk plan on joining us? Or you just that eager for some entertainment out in these parts?" 

This time, she grins. Thin and slight, the curve of a near-straight knife.

[Clockwork Writer]

Gwen gave the man an eager nod. She wasn't going to claim to be any kind of great chef but she could stir a stew pot or peel potatoes well enough. "Alright Mister. I'll be there," she assured the man with a wide smile.

Turning toward the others she gave a nod, glad to catch some names. "Nice to meet you Mr. Beauregard, Ms. Coro," she said shaking the latter's hand when offered. "I go by Dolyn." While not a lie the words were a bit misleading. There had been one other child she knew back before her life had taken it crazy turns who had called her that once or twice jokingly. So when attempted to travel in the guise of being a boy as she was currently she felt she was being honest enough in saying it was a name she went by, and it became more true the more often she said so. She didn't necessarily like it but it was better than outright lying and no doubt anyone who didn't have good enough eyes to already guess she was a girl would do so immediately if she gave her full name.

Following Ms. Coro's lead she likewise turned toward the more quite pair expectantly. She tried to give encouraging looks as she hoped to get introduced.

 

[Lwmons]

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Mr. Maxwell Miracle

Maxwell quickly stood from his relaxed position, quietly dusting off his suit with his free hand, before bringing it up to the brim of his hat for an exaggerated bow. He ignored the Coro's goading, though did shoot her a pointed, frustrated look, before turning his attention to the railroad patron before them all.

"Mr. Morris, was it? I do find it irritable to interject at such an inopportune interval, but it would be an injustice to not introduce myself at such an invitation. My name is Mr. Maxwell Miracle, a maker of a myriad of medicines for all manner of maladies. I'm to understand that you are undertaking an uncomfortable excursion, undoubtedbly with an understaffed carriage and undesireable, if not unknown obstacles? I might not be the pistolero I was in my prime, but I am a purveyor of physical perfection, and my promise to you is that for whatever perilous punctures and prodding your principal protectors might suffer, I'll be primed to procure any panaceas or physics that could placate them, on the provisor your proposition could extend to myself as well, o-of course."

[Inquisitor D]

Coro... blinks at Max's pitch. She doesn't intervene, that first glare was enough to convince her to hold back (for now) but she looks to the kid who'd taken up position at her side.

"Dolyn? Did you understand what he just said?"

Maybe it's just her, but this sounds... suspicious. It's classic huckster style, five words where one would've done. Then again, most quack doctors wouldn't volunteer to spend an extended period of time alone with those they were supposed to be treating. Perhaps Mister... Maxwell is Just That Smart? Or perhaps her English is finally failing her.

[mmmfish]

Atticus' moved his attention to his new compatriots. Politeness was always a treat compared to some of the unpleasantness of the gunslinger's trade, he was glad to be a part of it. He gave a firm handshake to Coro and gives a firm nod to Dolyn before replying, "Please, just Atticus. No need for such formality if we'll be workin' together." His attention was taken by the unique chatter from Mr. Miracle.

 

He turned to him, his eyes narrowing as his mind tried to parse any type of information from the grandiose display of verbage- the conversation even had an effect on his own thoughts. Atticus waits for a moment after the silence before turning to Coro, "He's a tonic man is what he said..." he paused once more, "Or I think that's what he said."

[Lwmons]

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Mr. Maxwell Miracle

Maxwell gave a confused look over his shoulder towards Atticus.

"Indubitably! Is that indeed not what I had implied with my intended intonation? Admittedly, my affectations arguably are obtuse to ascertain, but assuredly my accomplishments and accreditation are enough to audit myself an acceptable amount of assurance. My tonics and tinctures are top-notch and truthfully a terrific means of turning terrible traits into terrifying trademarks!"

[Laird_Thorne]

Doddsville, Kansas, 1884
The next day, around about noon those of you who have agreed to the opportunity to earn a few days pay and a relaxing train ride arrive at the station about noon or just before. The train doesn't appear to be extraordinary, except perhaps for appearing a bit fancier than most. From front to back, in addition to the engine and its tender, a sleeper car, two passenger cars, a freight car, livestock car, express car, and finally a caboose make up the entirety of the train. As you admire the lines of your home for the next few days Morris spots you and waves you over on the platform by the express car where he's watching over things as bags of mail are loaded into it.

" Glad to see you all took me up on my offer! " He gestured to the train with a smile. Stepping over, he opens the side door just enough to let you enter. "She's not much but she'll get us where we're going. Right this way." Entering, one of the things that immediately stand out is the steel plates lining the inside of the car. A few canvas bags hang here and there along the walls, but the couple of things that stand out are a large wooden crate in the corner, with hinges on one side so that it appears that the front opens like a door. The other, which is truly hard to miss, is a full-size Gatling gun mounted on a rail running down the length of the car through the middle and partially covered by a canvas tarp so that it would be concealed from the view of anyone passing by outside the car.

Off to the side, sitting on some other crates, wearing holsters and carrying shotguns are three men who stand as you and Morris enter. Morris nodded to the three. "Let me introduce you to the others signed on for this trip. This is Bill Thames, Jim Mullins and Tom Bartlett. After you all make your introductions, you can spread out your bedding wherever you can find room here about the car."