WEEK 1

[strangerpeople]

WEEK 1

[The train wouldn't stop. Not until very early the next morning. The few who might have been awake would be able to exit the train, entering the cool twilight of the dawn. The star is dark, and few stars can be seen in the sky as a cold breeze begins to blow from the mountain beyond. You can see some chunks of rock floating idly nearby, far away from the station that it won't hit trains, but near enough that one can see they are larger than the train they just disembarked.

Lastly, laid out in front of them, the first port of call: Menahoven. The mountain: The Throat of the World.

But which world? Who knows. Not any of yours. Maybe it doesn't matter. Not when you are so far from home. Not when you have no way to get off this rock without the aid of the trains-and they will not let you pass.

It looks like you're stuck here until the Conductor decides to leave. In the meantime, everyone will need to get comfortable.


There are fifteen strangers left in this place.]

Comments

[katzenpfote]

Of course. I'm sure she'll be glad to have it. ... Do you even know what a goblin is?

[overworker]

Not precisely, no. Erebonia has a very strict class system, but for us there are people like us and there are monsters. We don't really have different races.

[But they have a TV-person here so uh. You know. She's come to terms with it.]

...well, I suppose there are people like McBurn as well, but we don't exactly have a term for what he is. I don't even think he knows. Or if he does, he doesn't talk about it.

I can't say I'm not a bit curious though, if you're willing to tell me about them.

[katzenpfote]

Ah... well. They are a small race, only a few feet tall, with usually green skin, yellow eyes, and pointed teeth. They tend to live in small group sand raid and pillage whatever settlements are nearby, sometimes killing the people and sometimes taking them as prisoners to eat later.

... But she is not like that. She is kind in her own way, despite her sticky fingers.