The Train Job

[Inquisitor D]

Coro takes some time to appreciate the train as the group walk its length. It's not her first, but this is a fine little setup Morris has here. Whatever he might have to say for it, he's got proper armour for the express car, cover points ready for defenders, and a gatling, concealed and ready to go. It's hard to think of how much better fortified the car could get.

Guess Empire Rails are doing pretty well for themselves, if this is how they protect a minor train. Assuming this is a minor train. Ain't like we'd be told if there's something important on here.

The thought does make Coro curious. It's a side issue for now though. Not like a direct question to Morris would've gotten her much, and dollar's a dollar when you get down to it. She holds up a hand to the three men.

"Pleasure to meet all y'all. Coro."

If any of them move to shake, Coro'll oblige. Otherwise, she starts seeing her pack safely stowed. She takes it slow and careful, but isn't above throwing a witticism back towards her fellow guards. "You boys settle who's manning the big gun yet?"

She's got no skin in that game herself. If they felt like arguing over it though... that could be fun to watch.

[Shorikid]

Orrin has just listened to the man with the fancy words. Just a little to close to home so to speak to make him perfectly comfortable with the man. He had stood, nodded to the man with the white handlebars, and looked to the lady and her pint sized companion. Seemed there would be plenty of company on the train after all. "I take it we call all handle iron if the need arises?"  Yes, he'd caught sight of the hog-leg hanging from Doyln's belt. Thing barely cleared the board walk they were so short. Not much more than a kid, still wet behind the ears as likely as not. And Coro, was a slip of a thing. There were a few gents. A man covering all the world's best words with honey and a touch of oil. And then the lean fella, with the quick eyes, Orrin marked him as trouble, not the sort one braced given a choice. "I'll see you all come morning then."  There wasn't a point in sticking around to chew the fat, things were moving along and he just had to get himself set and settle so he could leave come morning. Orrin gave a nod and a tip of the hat and had departed as the smooth talker just kep on talking. Too many words for him anyways.

 

Now, come the next day he was at the station with the rest with the sun sitting high in the sky. Saddle bags over his shoulder and bedroll under his arm along with his rifle scabbard. Orrin walked the length of the train before Morris called out to him and some of the others from the previous day. He ambled that way, boots, stirring bits of dust as he walked. He didn't look quite so thread bear and worn as he had the day before, with his gear neat the the trail dust cleaned off. That might even be a fresh shave and a hair cut, bought and paid for, showing from under the brim of his hat. "No, no sir Mister Morris. It's a fine train. You 'aught to be proud."

 

As the door slid back, he like the others, leaned his head in enough looking around to to get the lay of things. He nodded, seeing the mail bags, the Gatling on it's rail and the iron plates. It was a fortress on rails. But, the curious thing. That crate. Something about it stood out just a little too much. That wasn't freight. That was the cargo they were keeping safe. Something, or someone was in that great big box that was important enough to put on all this fuss about. More men too. It was going to be half way crowded in here with the three extra men. Orrin gave each a nod as they were introduced, "Orrin Garrison.", he offered. The lady from the day before inquired about the Gatling, "Miss, Coro was it?, if it's all the same to you, I'll stick with a rifle and six shooter if you don't mind. Hopefully we won't need that Gatlin' though. Be a real bad day if we do."

[Inquisitor D]

"You're thinking we ain't gonna have a bad day on this job, Orri?"

Coro laughs, taking a seat on the floor next to her pack. She smiles up at her well-dressed fellow guardsman, a bit of honest warmth behind her eyes. "Didn't take you for an optimist. I like that. 'tween you and the kid, this promises to be a downright cheerful lil trip."

The woman stretches her arms back, half-yawning. Coro's already feeling at ease here. She chuckles. "I ain't gonna object to you staying off the big number. I ain't gonna call for it either. Lead ain't my thing. Still, we should work it out. No sense in having the thing if we all just stick to what we're carrying and no one makes a run for it. But if whoever gets the job is jumpy and starts shooting too early..."

She waves around the room. The risk of crossfire should be pretty apparent. They're gonna want someone trustworthy on the gatling. But with no one really knowing each other... hard to make a decent call on that.

Edited March 5 by Inquisitor D (see edit history)

[TiffanyKorta]

Jessie Mae

---

Whilst Jessie hadn't said anything, not out of rudeness (mostly) but just tired after a long day riding the rails, so she was feeling a little better after a good night's sleep in a real bed for once. Though she had this vague feeling of kind of dream, not the kind that made you go to ground, or stock up on tinned food and bullets, but a push to follow this expedition and find out what was going on, cause it could have just been the previous night's food with to much cheese!

 

"Jessie Mae! Hopefully, I can be of some help on your little expedition!"

 

As she spoke a Raven swooped down and landed on her shoulder, looking around at everyone with intelligent-looking eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Clockwork Writer]

Gwen had found herself left a bit flabbergasted by the fast-talking and could only nod along to the last of the introductions during the first meeting. She found herself unconsciously drawn to the friendly and straightforward seeming Ms. Coro and happily fell into step with the woman when they met back up the next day. She couldn't help but blush a bit at the comment about her demeanor making the trip more cheerful but she pushed that aside and gave the three men nods, providing the name she had given the others for the moment before moving to look around the place.

"I think that thing might weigh more than I do," she joked of the gatling gun. She tried to imagine herself using it and couldn't help but giggle at the thought, sounding the most like her own age than she had in a while before she remembered herself. She glanced toward the bird and frowned for a moment before shaking her hear. It was just a bird after all, even if at a glance a raven seemed like an ill omen it was still one of God's creatures.

"Well I'm sure it'll all be alright," she said finding herself a good spot to take a seat and get comfortable. "After all we're far to odd a group to be together except by some plan of God's and Pa always said that those are the kind of plans that would see you well to the end."

[Lwmons]

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Mr. Maxwell Miracle

As he had first made his appearance the day prior, so too was he making himself known now: With the sound of great exertion and the scraping of leather on the ground as he dragged a large suitcase with him, only barely making his way up the vessel's small steps with the aid of a generous passerby, and a clearly tremendous amount of effort on his part.

And, just as before, once finally coming to a place where he could set down his belongings properly and catch his breath, he chose to do so with the aid of a cigar, nestled tightly between his teeth as he fished for a match on his person.

"Friends! Truly a fortuitous function for us all to be finally finding familiarity aboard such a finely tuned feat of engineering! It would be ignoble of me to not introduce my ident once again, for the aid of our intrepid insiders who, insofar as I am able to identify, have yet to introduce themselves."

He offered a friendly tip of the hat towards the group, and then another towards the newcomers, whom weren't present at yesterday's chance meeting. His eyes do linger in a few places, the gun, the raven, all the usual suspects, though the proud grin never leaves his lips, save for when it's complimented with his cigar.

"My name is Mr. Maxwell Miracle, the maker of a myriad of magnificent medicines for all manner of maladies, be they mystical, magical, or mundane! I'm primed to be the pundit physician for the pallid length of the perigrinate. As for armaments, I'm afraid for all my amazing applications of abilities, arming myself with the awe-inspiring aggression of an autogun is outside my area of expertise. Dashed away within my derby is a derringer for the most dangerous of dastardly debonairs or even deceptive deputies, but don't be deceived by the device's destitute description, it delivers quite a destructive dart upon desire!"

[Laird_Thorne]

The Train, Kansas 1884

The three men give each of you a look up and down as you enter. You all get smirks and an eye roll and the ladies notice a bit of extra looks paid to them, but followed by headshakes. Mullins tried to keep a straight face at Coro's question. "Ah reckon that'd be me. Ah probably got more time on one o them than you have growin' up." Bartlet chimed in as he looked back and forth between Coro and Gwen. "Speaking of growing, should you young'uns be here or back in the schoolhouse?" He turned to Quinton. "What're you bringing us ? Wet-eared girls that we'll have to make sure don't trip us as we're moving around in the dark?"

Before Quinton could reply, Thames put a hand on a shoulder of the other two. "Can you all dance? Going to be a long trip and a bit o' entertainment might help pass the time..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes squinted at Maxwell then burst out into a deep belly laugh. "Fancy-man, you speak like one of those snake-oil fella. and I'm hoping you brought some along."

With a bit of a pause, Jessie noticed that Mullins had started staring at her, his eyes and forehead in seeming contemplation. "Have I seen you before? Bit further east I think?"

They all smiled as Quinton spoke up. "Alright, alright. We're all here to do the same job, so we'll have plenty of time to yak. I'm pretty sure between all of us, we'll be able to make sure this train gets where it's going." About the time he finished speaking, the entire car lurched as the whistle blew and the train began to move. slowly at first, then a bit quicker. Quinton gestured you all together, then stepped up on a small box. "Now that we're under way, I can fill you all in a bit. “Y’all have likely guessed there’s a little more to this delivery than just a couple o’ postcards from the folks Back East. And you guessed right if you did.

We’re hauling a payroll for the railroad on board. Some company enforcers are waiting for us at the drop-off in Pickman. With things being what they are, the company’s a little short on enforcers to give the train a proper guard, so the big wigs decided to try and sneak the money past any prying eyes in this here express car."

He gestured to Thames, Mullins and Maxwell. “My boys are veterans and been in more than a couple of scraps. Normally, them, me, and Ol’ Bessie here are enough firepower to handle any run o’ the mill banditos that might try their hand.

Still, I’ve been at this business a while and I learned not to ignore my gut. The hairs on the back o’ my neck got a bit prickly there in town. Probably just gettin’ old and skittish, but better safe than sorry.

Plus, it’s the railroad footin’ the bill for your checks, not me.”

[Inquisitor D]

Coro takes a long breath at Bartlet's words. Strangely, her face looks... blank. No anger, upset, fear. Instead, she simply bows her head and mutters a few foreign words to herself. "Réquiem æternam dona ei, Dómine. Et lux perpétua lúceat ei. Requiéscant in pace. Anima ejus, et ánimæ ómnium fidélium defunctórum, per misericórdiam Dei requiéscant in pace."

These three are not the worst souls. Just normal guards, with a mundane frame of reference. But Bartlet and Thames have thrown up a barrier, and Coro's all too happy to let it stand. If people don't care for you, that just saves you emotional grief later. Focusing on her professional obligations, Coro turns back to their employer with a politely neutral smile. "Well, this place looks like a fortress, Mr. Morris. But what about the engine? If you can't get men aboard, simplest way to rob a train is stop it. Hit the couplers, break the boiler, set her to derail - whatever. That way you leave the guards high and dry. Turn it into a siege."

That wouldn't be an easy task either, but it's a point of concern. Coro gestures to the forward door. "Might be an idea if I kept watch there. Dolyn and Miss Jessie too, if you're amenible. Just a few folks for the more cramped car, so'n there's someone to keep that safe too." Coro doesn't entirely turn, but she gives the contemptuous guard just a trace of side eye and a crooked grin. "That way, when Mr Bartlet trips over his own kaboose in the dark, he'll have the comfort of knowing there were a couple less women around to hear him scream."

Edited March 10 by Inquisitor D (see edit history)

[Clockwork Writer]

Hearing the quick-talking man letting out another long blast of hard-to-decipher words Gwen let herself drift back over by the nice Ms. Coro again. She wasn't sure why the man talked like his words were gonna get confiscated if he didn't use them all up first but it was a bit dizzying to try and follow. Of course that was probably preferable to having to talk with the men they had just met. Gwen felt a frown pull at her face while they gave the two older girls a hard time for no good reason. She was suddenly glad she hadn't admitted she was one to them yet herself and pulled her hat a bit lower, glaring past the rim of it at the trio.

Catching some of what Ms. Coro was muttering she was momentarily glad for the bits of otherwise horrible schooling she had been through as she at least recognized the Latin and what most of it meant. Her growing temper was calmed what seemed to be a prayer to her and she let out a sigh. She smiled up at Ms. Coro, glad to see she was such a nice lady and was even willing to turn the other cheek to the insults rather than pick a fight. The older girls her sisters had looked up to would not have done the same. More likely they would have done the opposite and started something with the three feller's that would have led to someone getting hurt and bad feelings all around.

 

Gwen nodded along to the plan, only to start a moment after the end of it when she realized just what Ms. Coro had said. Her hands came up to smother a giggle but she wasn't completely successful. Okay maybe the older girl wasn't completely turning the other cheek. "I don't mind that plan ma'am," she eagerly said. Realizing that might not have been the response a boy would give she quickly added in. "I can keep you both company and safe and all."

 

[Laird_Thorne]

Although Quinton tried to keep his expression cheerfully neutral, an eyebrow raised as he shook his head. "If this were another trip, I'd agree to that. In this case, it's a matter of keeping things secure and safe. The less the passengers know about this car the better.

That's why you all will just be limited to this car and the Caboose right behind us. There's a few more comforts there. Stove, coffee, couple of chairs and table. As long as you allow Mr. Jameson the conductor to do his job, it's all yours. A couple of you will be on guard here in the express car and one of you at least up in the Caboose tower."

[Inquisitor D]

Coro doesn't quite do a double take, but it's pretty clear she's surprised. She takes a step back, looking at her boss with new eyes.

He's dodging the question.

Maybe Quinton really is just that concerned about secrecy. He's taken the time to armour up this car and stow it at the back of the train. Maybe he's got some hidden measure he's keeping to himself. But the idea's starting to ring hollow to Coro. The whole story stinks if you think about it. Morris was going all around Doddsville, recruiting anyone he could for ten dollars a day to work security on a 'totally normal train'. It doesn't take a genius to guess there's something on this train worth stealing if they heard that. All it takes is one guy putting two and two together, getting a few pals overnight and buying tickets the following morning.

And he didn't need to agree to them going to the engine to reassure her. 'I stationed guards at the driver's cabin' would've been enough. But no. He won't even say that.

There's a terrible sinking feeling in Coro's gut. She hasn't got the evidence to be completely certain, but the more she ponders this, the less she's trusting Quinton Morris. The old man had been friendly, amiable, but that doesn't mean he's as truthful as he comes off. If they weren't on a moving train already, she'd consider quitting the gig. This whole car has 'diversion' written all over it. Right over 'you ain't getting paid'. As things stood...

Eh. Take a second, take a breath. Maybe she's too jumpy. Doesn't do to get harsh on a good employer when it could just be an oversight. Coro takes a breath before continuing, her words more careful than before. "With respect, sir, I get the security concern. But that doesn't answer what's keeping the engine secure. 'cos it ain't gonna be any of us with this setup."

Hell, there wasn't anything stopping Morris putting the Express between the Sleeper and the Engine beyond 'hide it'. That'd be the secure route. They'd all be in place to keep the driver safe. Even if disguising the car won out as a priority, it's off for a disguise too - behind the livestock rather than with the regular baggage. Anyone suspicious of the train would guess this isolated, out of the way car is where the payroll is. "The only thing between the sleeping car and the engine is the tender. Ain't no room to hide defences there. So if any crooks on board wanted to stop us, they can pretty much bust straight in and do whatever they want to the driver. If we needed to stop them though, we'd be stuck running the length of the train. Livestock, freight, two passenger cars and then the sleeper. Probably with panicking guests to get through, in addition to any other brigands. No way we'd make the front in time."

They could already be aboard for all they know. Ain't too hard to hide a gun, and get on in ones and twos. Simpler than trying to board a moving train from horseback. Coro sighs, turning the offer into a new light. "Look, we ain't all obvious security types. Your man just said we looked like we don't belong here. Why not bank on that? I don't need iron for a fight, Miss Jessie Mae's a classy looking lady and Dolyn's a kid: they ain't gonna take us seriously. Hell, I got fancy duds if you think that'd help. We go up front, blend in, and if anyone tries for the engine we'll be there for them. At minimum, we'd be closer. No?"

There's not much more she can offer than that. Trying to strike a conciliatory tone, Coro meets the Empire Rail rep's gaze dead on, almost apologetic for the conversation. "You're the boss, Mr. Morris. It's your call. But you're payin' me to keep this shipment safe. Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't try to think through the angles, right?"

OoC

Just a clarity point, I hope this is okay. Worried this sort of questioning is getting in the way of the game, don't wanna obstruct the plot. If Quinton shoots her down again, Coro won't press further. Just... there's enough here for her to be suspicious, no? And as a character, she's on the cynical side. Hence starting to assume the worst here.

 

[Shorikid]

Orrin has just settled his gear along the wall as the other men piled in. And he bit his tongue as they wagged theirs. "Misters, look. We're not cuttin' in on your dance. We are just hired hands, here to help with keeping the train running down the tracks and back." Jessie Mae, Maxwell, Doyl, Coro. Lord All Mighty, they were an odd lot mixed all together. As the men made eyes Coro, Orrin got his hackles up a bit. He wasn't a big man, and trying to loom over someone wasn't his way. But, he could change a man's mind with a look or a word. Some were kind, some could be hard and cold.

So, he too a step forward, just that small step with a scuff of his boot. "How about we all worry about how many people would put holes in our hide for half of what's in our pockets? Not to mention what's in this car." Coro had a point, and Maxwell was unloading more words than Orrin had heard in a month. He blinked to clear his ears and mind and focused on Quinton. He tried to gauge the man's reaction. Something about it just, didn't sit right. "Ladies got a point. But, you pay the bills boss man. I can stick right here with the other hands and keep this place safe and secure."

Orrin lifted his chin toward Maxwell, "What do you say. You think you could spin a yarn for Thames and Mullins here? Keep our eyes from dryin' out."  Orrin figured to get attention split up off the ladies, away from ones spouting Latin and looking like they could chew nails.

[Lwmons]

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Mr. Maxwell Miracle

"I daresay, dancing does not divine itself as a duty I dare accommodate, lest a disastrous debut drive us in a difficult direction... Though I think I'm truthfully touched by a tricksy tongue that can tell all manner of terrific tall tales within my tenor. Of course, as Quintin carefully quoted, we are quite a cruise away from our cause, which qualifies questions and concertos to be championed as circumstance demands.*Oh no you don't want to hear me sing, unless you want my voice to derail us. However, I am good at telling stories. Though we have plenty of time until we reach our destination, maybe we can save the stories, and questions, for later."

Of course, even in saying this, it was clear from his expression that he wasn't satisfied with his own conclusions. He can understand Morris withholding information from them, they were little more than a group of random passers-by in the market for coin, but if they're cutting corners, and Ms. Coro's deductions are accurate, there's certainly more of a risk than he was happy to have signed on for.

Perhaps it's nothing. Perhaps he's overthinking it in his old age. As long as he makes it off the train alive on the other end, who cares who is paying his salary or what's being delivered.

"If I could intrude, I'd like to interject an insight into our intrepid, inopportune episode as an objective interlocuter. Before me I believe I am blessed with a bountiful bastion of brave belligerents, both balefully employed and briefly bothered, that no bandito, in their better judgement, would be fit to best. Why, we've welcomed a wealth of wanderers who can surely wield all manner of wicked and weighty weapons, would a worrisome whelp or several, wish themselves what isn't theirs by right. We only need naught inhibit ourselves to no more than the negligible niche we've been denoted.*If I could offer a suggestion as someone experienced, we're lucky to be surrounded by quite a few talented individuals. There's enough of us here that you can surely take care of anything, as long as you all spread out and aren't limited to the rear cars."

[Laird_Thorne]

The Train, Kansas 1884

After several tense hours, the atmosphere relaxes a bit as it seems that Quinton and the others have settled into an attitude conducive to not quite friendly, but more a working, professional respect for each of you after they have had a chance to really talk with you in a relaxed manor. As the train passes through rolling hills and wooded glens, all the tension and expectation of danger seems to be without foundation. Even the night and the next morning passes uneventfully with some friendly cards played, some stories told, breakfast made and other refreshments shared.

Something however is tickling your nerves but you can't just put a finger on it. Something is in the air, and even Bartlett and Mullins seem on edge in the Caboose. Quinton has even stuck his head in a couple of times, rubbing the back of his neck. "You all sure you haven't see anything out of the ordinary? Somethin's got the hair on the back of my scalp standing up like a bunch of Indians on the warpath bearing down on me."

Mullins stopped his shuffling the deck, spilling a couple of cards on the floor of the caboose, and shook his head. "No Sir, but you better believe we'll keep a closer eye out if that's how you're feeling. " He looked over to you all, "Anything?"

---

OOC: Sorry for the delay. I need two things, where you're at: Caboose, Express car, or somewhere in between. And I need a Notice roll please. :)

[Inquisitor D]

Coro pokes her head down from the tower of the caboose. She's spent most of the day lazing around, but it's her shift on watch and she hasn't dodged one so far.

"You being literal, boss? Sioux lands ain't that far. I came from that way."

It's half a joke. Coro returns to the watchtower, scanning the area once again. As far as she's concerned, the land around these parts ain't much for looking at. All blends together after a while. Still... Morris isn't just jumping at shadows. She can feel something too.