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capemods) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2013-10-24 01:18 pm
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Entry tags:
- *event,
- *open,
- abed nadir | meta man,
- alana bloom | n/a,
- april ludgate | janet snakehole,
- calvin | stupendous man,
- daria morgendorffer | melody powers,
- edward nygma | riddler,
- eridan ampora | prince of hope,
- frank castle | the punisher,
- frederick chilton | chief of staff!!,
- gilbert nightray | n/a,
- hannibal lecter | alias,
- jack bauer | man of the hour,
- julian keller | hellion,
- kanaya maryam | sylph of space,
- karen starr | power girl,
- karkat vantas | threshecutioner,
- kotetsu t. kaburagi | wild tiger,
- lillian crawley-jeffries | diamond lil,
- mitchell hundred | the great machine,
- mordin solus | the professor,
- n/a | archer,
- norman osborn | the green goblin,
- oswald cobblepot | the penguin,
- peter parker | spider-man,
- renee montoya | n/a,
- rick bradbury | n/a,
- rua | deformer,
- ruka | gallitrap,
- sanji | mr. prince,
- sharon rainsworth | n/a,
- steve | superhero steve,
- terrance ward | trauma,
- tony stark | iron man,
- troy barnes | the truest repairman,
- valeria richards | n/a,
- yako katsuragi | miss detective
EARTH 24*(&A$%7HGKPOI
WHO: All transdimensional imPorts.
WHERE: The town of Capers.
WHEN: October 24th, noon, to October 29th, noon.
WARNINGS: Probably violence, but alert me if something else evolves and I can update this.
SUMMARY: Lachesis pulls a group of Cityverse imPorts into another world adventure -- here be the wilds of the west, and dinosaurs!
FORMAT: As you please!
You arrive at the town of Capers from one split second to the next -- from the asphalt and concrete of the City to the dusty and earthen dirt of this wildwood space. The sun is hot and the sky is streaked with thin clouds. The landscape of the town is sparse, utilitarian; you'll find saloons and dance halls, quarries and fenced corrals, the local gaol and the hanging scaffold, the shops and medical facilities (barbershop included). In fact, the logwood architecture of the buildings direct into those four major categories, and the structure of the town forms something circular, much like a compass. You might have been ported in at any of these places, as Lachesis would have delivered you at random.
The sun in the sky burns a golden yellow, peering down at you like some celestial eyeball. Almost feels like it's watching you.
You're wearing your clothes and you've got your communicator on you, but that's about it. You can still contact the Network, but you cannot leave this world. And since you look like such an outsider, it takes only a few moments for you to be ushered by local Samaritans to the Capers Town Hall. There, in his white suit and black belt, stands Mayor Eisner -- and he greets you warmly. He tells you that Capers is used to extradimensional pioneers, and he's happy to invite you into his town. But for a town like his to survive at this unilateral crossroads, certain customs must be observed -- you understand, there's a method of expectation that enables order. You might catch glimpses of other imPorts filing in, being escorted by the kindly souls they came across. Mayor Eisner asks you your name and your favorite color. He asks you if you're a spiritual individual, or more secular. He asks you about the first animal that comes into your mind.
Then he ponders your face for a moment.
Then, with a strong and genuine pat on your shoulder, he tells you who you are, in his town of Capers.
You are free to reject or accept the role, but that all comes with respective consequences.
Welcome to Capers, hero.
WHERE: The town of Capers.
WHEN: October 24th, noon, to October 29th, noon.
WARNINGS: Probably violence, but alert me if something else evolves and I can update this.
SUMMARY: Lachesis pulls a group of Cityverse imPorts into another world adventure -- here be the wilds of the west, and dinosaurs!
FORMAT: As you please!
You arrive at the town of Capers from one split second to the next -- from the asphalt and concrete of the City to the dusty and earthen dirt of this wildwood space. The sun is hot and the sky is streaked with thin clouds. The landscape of the town is sparse, utilitarian; you'll find saloons and dance halls, quarries and fenced corrals, the local gaol and the hanging scaffold, the shops and medical facilities (barbershop included). In fact, the logwood architecture of the buildings direct into those four major categories, and the structure of the town forms something circular, much like a compass. You might have been ported in at any of these places, as Lachesis would have delivered you at random.
The sun in the sky burns a golden yellow, peering down at you like some celestial eyeball. Almost feels like it's watching you.
You're wearing your clothes and you've got your communicator on you, but that's about it. You can still contact the Network, but you cannot leave this world. And since you look like such an outsider, it takes only a few moments for you to be ushered by local Samaritans to the Capers Town Hall. There, in his white suit and black belt, stands Mayor Eisner -- and he greets you warmly. He tells you that Capers is used to extradimensional pioneers, and he's happy to invite you into his town. But for a town like his to survive at this unilateral crossroads, certain customs must be observed -- you understand, there's a method of expectation that enables order. You might catch glimpses of other imPorts filing in, being escorted by the kindly souls they came across. Mayor Eisner asks you your name and your favorite color. He asks you if you're a spiritual individual, or more secular. He asks you about the first animal that comes into your mind.
Then he ponders your face for a moment.
Then, with a strong and genuine pat on your shoulder, he tells you who you are, in his town of Capers.
You are free to reject or accept the role, but that all comes with respective consequences.
Welcome to Capers, hero.
EASTWARD
Walk along this directional unit, and you'll come across star-badged law enforcement and preachers arguing survival of the fittest. Sometimes a fellow might stroll into Mayor Eisner's building while riding atop a hadrosaur. As along this relatively pristine strip, you might get held up by a bunch of sinosauropteryx, as they often run in flocks while clucking their way around important buildings. Maybe it's a bit of symbolism.
There's very little unrest in Capers. No protests, no major arguments in a court of law -- the worst comes about with citizens are accused of stealing from a neighbor's herd. There aren't many instances of this concerning cemented locals, however. Seems only those who reject their roles inspire trouble.
The local school is located in this district, as well. It’s a simple, one-room building complete with fourteen wooden desks. The position for schoolmarm is open, as it has been for some time. Somehow, these revered teachers keep getting devoured by ambush-prone carnivores. Nasty business.
open
That was the best way Alana had found to rationalize her current state, dressed head to toe like a cowboy. Or a deputy sheriff, if the badge was anything to go by.
Thankfully it didn't look as though she'd need to use the pistol she'd been given (and forced to wear- the attitude the natives had displayed when she suggested that she didn't want to wear it was openly hostile, and more than a little disturbing). The town seemed peaceful enough, apart from that hostility.
The cells in the Sheriff's office were currently empty, so she was spending her shift sitting outside, watching the townsfolk and other imPorts go past. With any luck, things would stay quiet.
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OPEN! any day
He didn't know what a railroad baron did, but he could fake it well enough. Just like Iceburg, right? Owner of the sea-train? He could do that. And then go spend wads of cash in the saloons with the dancing girls! This adventure was really looking up!
He could be found swaggering around the business area when not in the entertainment district, pretending to throw his weight around but mostly just observing, and taking advantage of his position in this silly little pretend town.
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open
Career politician, and all.
But the man just laughed, clapping his hand on his shoulder, and called him US Marshall Mitchell Hundred, and Mitchell felt a sick feeling in his stomach. He had his own star-badge, a hat, the gun, the entire thing. He looked ridiculous, and felt more like a cowboy than anything else.
Which, to be fair, he'd been thinking about it for Halloween, again -- he liked to err on the side of neutral with his costumes, but now he thought that it wasn't going to be possible. Not after this.
But there were still Dinosaurs to contend with too, and while the small, boyish part of him made faces, another part of him was screaming about how this was a bad idea, and how Jurassic Park had ended, and how this could go the wrong way, couldn't it?
He was busy trying to do what he was supposed to do. After all, he'd heard what happened if he didn't, but for some reason, on the sleepy, warm morning, there wasn't much trouble. Until, of course, the deinonychus tore down the road, screeching and loose, long body, and he cursed, watching it. Did they really want him to do this? He winced, catching the fact that there was someone on the dinosaur. ]
Motherfucker!
ota
Abed's available in two distinct out-and-wandering flavors this time around, due to the inevitable conflict of character commitment. In the early stages of life in Capers, from arrival to a few hours after being assigned his position as Railroad Engineer, he's more or less his usual self: plus an air of palpable excitement that generally only sees special occasions such as these. Abed's kind of spending some of the first day taking everything in like he wants to also be eating popcorn with it.
By the end of day one, he's already developed a character for himself and made quick work of getting his hands on some more appropriate attire for the part. Yes, yes, the railroad engineer with the dark and mysterious past. A sober man of southern drawl and varying emotional facial expressions and everything. When in Rome, give yourself over to the label, he guesses. He's got a real stride going here, so breaking character calls for a little bit of determination.
... he wonders if there's going to be a dramatic shootout sometime. Then again, maybe everybody will just end up eaten by dinosaurs.
Well, still. Nothing that can put a stop to old Harry and his railway working. No, sir. ]
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open
It was only when he was provided with "appropriate clothing" that he began to contemplate the pros and cons of pissing off the locals. After several hours of deliberation and agitated muttering to himself, he was forced to conclude that being fed to a dinosaur was probably worse than having to wear a dress and yell at some kids for a week.
It isn't even like it's the first time he's run around in a skirt, he reasons, glumly, as he exits the school building some time in the afternoon, after treating the Capers' youth to a day of exposition on troll romance.
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open
but, resignation aside, it doesn't look like he's made it very far.
that annoyed, huffing noise is in fact coming from him. he's standing outside the town hall, swatting at a small pterodactyl -- and adolescent maybe -- that seems to have found him entertaining to harass. or possibly edible. because it keeps sweeping at him, getting its talons and beak in his hair, pecking and clawing at him as he tries to wave it away with erratic movements of his hands. ]
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Spider-Man was never one to let poor timing get in the way of a righteously snappy remark, but hours later -- having been sneered at more times than he can count, spit on, and on the most memorable occasion shoved into a pile of hadrosaur droppings -- he had to admit he could've chosen better this time.
It wasn't as though he'd been ordered to actually execute anybody -- if he hadn't overreacted, he'd have been in a perfect position to prevent some poor schmuck from getting the long drop. Not to mention gotten access to a change of clothes and cheap room and board. No, this definitely wasn't one of his finer moments.
"Get a job, you layabout!"
Then again, he thought, swiping the spit from his mask lens, he was freaking Spider-Man. He had no intention of hurting anybody, but who said he had to put up with this treatment, either? He primed his web-shooters with an audible click-clack, ready to web the next local yokel who tried to give him guff.
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hope this is okay
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WESTWARD
If all that fluff won't suit your gruff, then try some of the local manly bars. So many that there might be dust and anger at the bottom of your despairing whiskey (served neat, obviously). Just watch out for the ankylosaurs rummaging by your feet, those can be more cantankerous than some of the Clint Eastwood look-a-likes. There's no set decorum here, just be sure to neatly park your prosauropods out by the front water trough. Don't be surprised if a local challenges you to a dino race -- those tend to happen a lot, when people get drunk. Any dino express couriers, kindly use the back entrance for delivering messages.
Take care to check in at any of the local inns that linger along this directional district. There are three major homestays, all decked out to the utmost of comfort compliance: The Crusty Cuckold, The Alleyway Cat, and The Divine. The latter of the three sometimes has an infestation of stegosaurus nests -- but don't worry, they're all very tiny babies.
open;
Hence, The Divine.
He had thought that perhaps it was his fourth whiskey that inspired the vision of a tiny infant stegosaurus nipping at his ankle.
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UGH HOW DID I MISS THIS ONE MY APOLOGIES
IT'S OKAY
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Re: open;
open;
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October 25th and later. OPEN.
Also, he's a little wary of this twitchy, shifty-eyed gunman who seems to keep turning up nearby him. He's not stupid; he doubts the guy has any good intentions toward him, and he suspects a threat. But every time he tries to corner the man, he slips away.
He hasn't been able to completely back out of all the drinks the locals keep pushing on him, so his ability to think about the situation is only decreasing.
"Here's your usual, Mister Archer," the bartender says with a friendly and condescending wink. "I'd tell ya to take it easy, but I can't go about losin' my best customer, now can I?" With an embarrassed laugh and a rueful shake of his head, he turns away from his "best customer"...
...who promptly looks both ways and, too fast for the ordinary eye to follow, pours the drink into a nearby potted cactus.
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OPEN
1) The inhabitants of Capers were completely used to other universes, and expected visitors to adapt to their town during their stay.
2) For Mordin, this adaptation meant a job as local law enforcement. Accepting this job was the best way to adjust to the situation and learn about this intriguing new environment.
3) As part of his duties, Mordin might be expected to pursue other ImPorts who were not willing to accept their assignments. Such 'varmints' were most likely to be found toward the Southern part of town.
With that in mind, Mordin had assumed his Porter-given human disguise (most Caper clothing wasn't tailored with the Salarian physique in mind), donned his black Marhsal's hat and shiny badge, and headed out West to crack down on bar brawls and drunken dinosaur races.
It was the ideal solution, as far as he was concerned. He could fill his role, avoid unnecessary conflict with ImPorts, take in the local culture via nightlife, and observe the remarkable fauna this world boasted. With this plan, Mordin spent his first night in Capers rotating steadily between the End's World, the local bars, and the nearby inns, keeping a sharp and constant eye out for trouble and discovery alike.
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Open to all | At End's World
Really, out of all the alternative universe hells she'd gotten ported into, this one may be her favorite. Here no one even batted an eye when she insinuated she was willing to sell her womanly wares to the right gent- so long as they could overlook her tragic past, that was. Over all, April wasn't complaining (much). Just lining up another row of...nondescript alcoholic beverage that came in a barrel for the latest crowd.
Later, she decided, she was gonna take the stage. It was just a question of whether a Coyote Ugly or Flashdance style routine was going to win out. Or maybe she'd go really nuts and pull a Marty McFly.
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10/24 evening; open
Everything was not going to be fine.
Everything sucked.
In the hours that passed in the southward lands, this was the conclusion she drew, over and over again. She'd tried playing class, she'd tried playing caste—always trying for the path of less resistance, in such temporary circumstances. But what skin of hers that hadn't been covered under the hot sun felt blistered, and that which was felt roasted. Her muscles ache in no welcome fashion, and she's relatively certain she took an unplanned nap in what shade could be found in the quarry, considering how startled she felt when the alioramus remotus had a crash course lesson in the dangers of attempting to attack someone with subconsciously-activated psychic shields.
Everything really, really sucked.
But the sun had set and her prospects were bad, no matter which direction Ruka looked. Her current plan of action—beyond continued wallowing in how much she hated all of these trips, and how it seemed no matter how much she prepared, she was never ready for what these excursions had in store—was to simply take a folded-arm nap at one of the bars, and to cross her fingers that she wouldn't wake up until the whole mess was over and done with.
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October 27; open
She's tolerated quite a bit since her arrival in the City, but she's tired of these games. Traveling to other worlds, and now being forced into new roles. A snakeoil salesman... They want her to lie, cheat, and con. Whatever kind of joke they think this is, she's not laughing.
While the rational decision would be to play along, she's had enough. Even when she confronts the repercussions (hostility, brawls, and lack of water, to name a few), she refuses to give in.
However, she swears that if she hears "But what do you DO?" one more time, she'll punch someone in the face.
Irritated beyond measure, Renee enters a tavern. She needs a drink. Now. ]
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oct. 25 | open
As long as he was home for Halloween. If he missed that would Norman get angry.
He sat himself down in of the saloons, intending to order himself a drink or two before exploring the town more. Maybe humoring one of the dance halls. The world -- well, the town -- may as well be his oyster.
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OPEN | note the time of day!
This was the main existential crisis plaguing Eridan as he set up shop at the End's World, which, being a fine establishment as appreciative of the finer points of glam and pizazz as himself, was the obvious choice for his esteemed lack of bartending skills. (The other crises being "wow, can bartenders tend the bar drunk? is that a thing I can do here, or what?" and "what the fuck is with all the dinocritters?") Some asshole in a gauche white suit telling him who he was supposed to be was obnoxious, sure, but was being pointlessly stubborn and unwilling to play along really worth it in the long run, when the only benefit was a reinforcement of his hipster creed?
Yes. Completely.
But did he feel like doing all that? More importantly, was he willing to sacrifice bathing and indoor toilets for that? Not really. And so off to the End's World he went, dressed in his totally stylish bartender outfit, and there he'd spent basically his entire first day in town. At noontime, that meant doing his job as he imagined he should be - pouring drinks, halfassedly polishing glasses, spitting in the drinks of rude patrons, being punched in the eye by one of those patrons afterwards, normal Eridan goings-on. If any fellow trans-universal voyagers are interested in a halfway sober conversation and not being wept on, this is the time to do it! Because afterwards, he gets into the stock to dull the pain, and also the mindnumbing boredom.
At dusk, sporting a considerable shiner, the usual routine of pouring drinks and getting punched gave way to dancing behind the bar, chatting up literally anyone who wandered into the danger zone, and using bottles of various sizes to replicate the opening to Funkytown. Wow, what was he even worried about in the first place? This bartending shit was a piece of Empress approved grub confectionery. Fuckin' nailed it.
At exactly dusk, he saw fit to perform an entirely accurate (if vaguely slurred) rendition of Fergalicious for one very unfortunate group of customers.
Still, all ups must have their downs. Midnight saw him more drunken, more maudlin, slung bodily over the bar and in a mood only describable as wweepy. His boots had been discarded, hat long since lost to the End's World's thronging masses somewhere midway through Fergalicious, a nearly empty bottle of piss poor whiskey propping up his folded hands, which propped up his chin.
"I mean, fuck, I'm not the bad guy. I do good shit! I buy the dish soap they wash all the oily birds with. I adopted a fuckin' highway." A whole body sigh, vaguely quavering. "'s not my fault I made some bad decisions. It was a bunch a years ago anyway, it's not like it still counts. People need to get ower it, right? It's not just me thinkin' that?"
A further slide downwards, elbows now on the bar, cheek resting against the side of his bottle.
"I'm just so fuckin' sick an' tired of bein' the willain, y'know?"
midnight
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dusk
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n o o n
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open!
As she wipes off the counter in the small saloon she'd settled in, what bothers her more isn't the assignment so much as the sheepish way she accepted. She's gone over it numerous times since, thinking about what she could have said instead, perhaps asking for a different assignment, but she knows she wouldn't have actually said any of them. If there's one thing she learned in New Vesuvius, it's that it will always be safer to play along until the time is right.
And this isn't at all like New Vesuvius. Sure, it might not be her choice vacation spot, assuming she ever took vacation, but the people here were very different. Playing along had been to her benefit. Instead of simply escaping torture or death, they actually seemed to show her respect, meeting her with kindness and even providing the funds for a more appropriate wardrobe. She didn't mind the saloon so much, either, as opposed to the glitz and spectacle of the End's World. That place seemed a bit too big and impersonal to her, a place to be seen when she'd really rather not. Even if the owner here had made some leering comment about prettying up the place, this one seems more to her pace.
Maybe she could even spare a drink, it's not like it would be a problem. Rose isn't here, she doesn't have to worry about being any kind of influence on anyone. But it still feels too much like giving in. She's conflicted on it.
Better just to keep the drinks coming for the patrons.
[ ooc: i'm just doing prose for the opener, please feel free to respond with brackets if you'd prefer! ]
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Re: open!
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NORTHWARD
And for all your market needs, the tangent avenue north-northeast gives you a might fine selection! Every morning there's a farmer's market (as the farmlands rest just further north, outside the town's limits) where you can purchase fresh meat and vegetables. There's a shortage on most fruits, but you might just luck out with a few dried dates (and they're not even interested in marriage!). If you're in a desperate need of water, the town well is located in this general vicinity too. Most of the native animals are cleared out of this reputable section of the neighborhood, but you'll likely see someone's trachodon parked nearby, as they shop. You won't find many wildlife specimens here, but those that you do will always be herbivores.
OPEN
"Well, the price is right, he's well-trained, and just your size. I think he'll be a good mount. That's a darn good pick, Calvin." The boy's newly-found patron was helping him out around the market, getting the gear and supplies they would need for their inevitable daring expedition into the wild. "Now, why Moe though?"
"Well, he's ugly, he's got a bad temper, and look how thick his head is!" Calvin grinned. "There's definitely a resemblance. You'd know who Moe was if you went to my school. I think kids like him grow on locker room floors."
'Moe' was a green juvenile Pachycephalosaurus with a thick dome of bone on his skull. He snorted, wiggled his tail, and headbutted the post he was tied to for no apparent reason. Calvin's patron nodded knowingly.
"Ohhhh, one of those kids. Yeah, I've known a few Moes in my time. Better to ride 'em than having to run from them, right? One sec, I'll just pay for Moe, and then we can see how you handle him. I'll bet you're a natural rider, I just know it."
Calvin had been confused and scared at first after being brought to Capers without warning, but that hadn't lasted long. By the time he got his role from Mayor Eisner, he had taken back every bad thing he had ever said about Lachesis and decided that Capers was the greatest universe ever. There were cowboys, there were dinosaurs, and people wanted him to go exploring!
The best part had been meeting his patron, though. He had approached the boy shortly after the meeting with the Mayor. He was much cooler than most grownups Calvin knew, with his snappy clean clothes and big smile and constant enthusiasm for everything Calvin did. He had made Calvin a perfect offer: he would fund the boy pioneer's new expedition and handle all the boring research and organization, all on the condition that he got to come along for the adventure!
"Congratulations son, you now have your very own dinosaur. Look, I already got him saddled for you- see that leather? Nothing but the best quality for the Boy Pioneer. Now, how about we go find some treasure maps for our expedition? I know a guy who knows a place."
Calvin beamed and climbed onto his new pet. "Come on, Mister Birdie. We're going to be the greatest explorers this town has ever seen!"
Re: OPEN
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open | barbershop
From the tight pants riding up his butt (and nether regions) to the humidity wreaking havoc on his hair, Gil vastly prefers Asthenoa to Capers already. He would take the role of a knight any day over what he's been landed in in this town — town barber.
His protests fell on deaf ears and it's been one nightmarish event after another. At first, he speculates with it being a small town there's no need to worry about customers at the barbershop. He sees people walk by, but never make a turn for the shop itself.
But then they begin to wander in one after the other. Mostly men. Manly men; the sort Gil knows he'll never be. One asks for his usual trim, but when Gil spends too long fretting over where he needs to start from, what scissors to use, if he should wet up the hair or not, and about fourty minutes pass before the customer angrily storms up.
Then another man shows up talking about a tooth infection and how much pain he's in and if Gil can extract the tooth for cheaper than the dentist. The state of his teeth and gums are possibly the most repugnant thing he's ever seen. Luckily, he's less angry when Gil manages to convince him to go to the dentist nearby.
In an act of desperation, he switches the sign on the door to CLOSED and he paces back and forth in the shop. He shouldn't be wasting his time in here, there's got to be something to look for in the town, so he shouldn't be bothering with this ridiculous role play game and look for Sharon or anyone he knows. ]
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OPEN
The one town doctor was a man with the actual whole shebang, the outfit, the bag, everything was as picture-perfect as it could be. That being said, he wasn't really a doctor. Sure, with the help of a doctor, he'd been able to keep himself alive through mechanics, but he didn't think he was going to be able to pull off anything so miraculous here.
Then again, he'd done more with less, so there was always a chance that something could surprise him. Even if it was his ability (or non-ability) to heal the sick. He was doing his best, or at least as close as he could be to his best. That meant he was often tipping his head in an odd way. Referencing information that lay in his brain, rudimentary knowledge; human anatomy mostly. He wasn't going to dive in elbows deep into intestines without actually showing effort to know what he was doing.
Actually, by western standards, he was doing pretty well, if he did say so himself.
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sorry for actionspam i am too tired for prose
no it's perfect i love it
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open;
He has resisted, but he thinks it's only a matter of time. He has no idea how long he'll be in such a place. He'll end up going out—late in the evening, of course—and claiming at least one head. He knows as much. He'll plan it, too, though not after having made it known this reputable, good man is in a position he dislikes. One is not so bad. As long as they don't expect him to start doing three, five, more a day and during the day...
He can accept it and reject it at the same time, can't he? Just one. Just one favor, no more. Let the cards fall where they may after that, even if he ends up feeling grimy and terrible and would do most anything for a proper shower.
Of course he'd wind his way to the market. Of course he would. It gives him something to do, looking over vegetables and taking stock of the meat. He doesn't have a proper kitchen (or access to one, not just yet, and maybe never), so there's a lot he honestly can't do. Food is one of his passions, though, and the idea of ignoring the kinds offered in a town like this one...well, it would be a tremendous waste, and he'd have to be sick and unable to move to miss out on it.
It's where he can be found for quite some time, making small talk and rolling things over, taking an interest in what dinosaurs there are hitched up nearby. Nothing that could make him seem ready to steal them for his own...more obvious fascination than anything else. He wonders a bit what he'd make of them if he'd had more interest in them in school, had taken classes that filled his brain with their names and the years in which they lived, had been one who appreciated any and every dinosaur movie he could possibly find.
It's easy to come across him in the market, if someone's seen him before and knows who he is. Finding him gazing at a dinosaur? Just as easy. But eventually he winds his way into whatever sort of "restaurant" he can find, hoping to whatever higher power there probably isn't that the entire menu isn't deep fried and so greasy it would soak a napkin straight through.
The issues he has are truly numerous.
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SOUTHWARD
Beyond the pens and locked dinosaurs, the ground begins to fold. There's a folded valley leading to a starker dustbowl -- and beyond that, a cut quarry and the mouth to underground mines. Limestone has been surgically claimed from the quarry, and gold is rumored to still be embedded in the depth of the mines. You could make your fortune here, but be warned: this is a carnivore's land. A tribe of velociraptors hunt around the mines, chewing off unobservant or overly ambitious fortune seekers. You might hear larger roars in the distance -- a gorgosaurus? Tyrannosaurs, perhaps? -- and you best hope to the high heavens that you find a good cover to sleep under, if you're banished to these outskirts. That would be one of the more severe prices of rebelling against your mayorally given role: you're not allowed in the town inns. This is the free ground to sleep on, this is the land that welcomes homesteaders and prospectors. With glory comes bloody-teethed danger!
Outlaws are rumored to lurk on down by the valley and the dust. If you’re a bounty hunter, a mercenary, or an officer of the law, you might find yourself ordered out to these parts. While the born-and-bred locals seem mostly law-abiding, there are always those newcomers who reject their roles, and sometimes those individuals get a warrant taken out on them! Be wary, imPort: this could happen to you.
If you’re an officer of the law, in fact, you might very well be ordered by the mayor to hunt down those imPorts who have rejected their roles. That’s something your conscience has to deal with.
OTA
But...
He sighed.
He was terribly disappointed in himself! Such a friendly head-of-state had given him what were rather simple questions, and he'd failed to come up with satisfactory answers!
What is my favorite color? he wondered once more, unhappy.
Perhaps it was rather silly to dwell on something like that, but for some reason it kept nagging him in the face of all the giant, scaly, feathery beasts and funny swinging, squeaky doors and colorful drawls and y'alls! Nagging all the way through the town, out to the outskirts where a pickaxe was dropped in his hands and a couple brand new (not brand new) burlap sacks and a tin pan dropped unceremoniously at his feet.
Sigh...
"Mineral excavation, then?" he wondered aloud, tilting the tool in his hand. "I suppose it will be rather reminiscent of my time stranded on Juraika..."
One of the Paralophosaurus snuffled loudly in his ear, stretching its head out from its paddock. The hat stayed very well in place. Steve looked over and smiled at the curious animal.
"Though, perhaps I will find fewer rune-infested monsters out for my utter destruction, yes?"
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OPEN
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i realized that there are no horses only raptors
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night of October 24th. OPEN.
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OPEN
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open
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OPEN; rejected role, possibly violently, welcome to be hunted down B)
have a three year old, since that seems maximally incongruous :3
COWSAUR STAMPEDE (super duper crazy open)
open
they are on nickname terms now obviously
totally
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open yes this is grand
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CLOSED for FRANK
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