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

[dragonmouth]

Is that so? I heard that if you're not careful, I've heard that mushrooms can grow right out of your skin.


[ She is...attempting to tease? She is making joke. ]

[katzenpfote]

I've never had that problem, fortunately. I have had some shoes get moldy, though.

[dragonmouth]

...I understand not everyone has the means, but if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to make a mess of yourself.

[Because ew.]

[katzenpfote]

I didn't for a long time, but there's also the fact that people pay less attention to a filthy man than a well-off one.

[dragonmouth]

...and even less to a man who's neither.

People pay plenty of attention to filty men, for all the reasons you'd expect.