midpointsaloon | Round 85: The Long Haul, Part 8

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Round 85: The Long Haul, Part 8

PLAYERS: Rocket and Groot, Taako, Yoda, Jiro Azuma VS. Sam Wilson, Misty Day, Jo Harvelle, Sara Lance
LOCATION: Bank Town, the Ranch
GOAL: Keep hands on the cargo of the stagecoach travelling from Bank Town to the Ranch
WARNINGS: Attempted murder
OTHER: OOC post for plotting and questions!

The stagecoach isn’t ready for transport when the two teams arrive at Bank Town just before sundown, and the bank manager who is in charge of the shipment will only speak to someone on the driver team, so the bandits are shit out of luck even if they try to get to it first. There appear to be some delays, in fact, and the bank manager has many apologies, but the stagecoach isn’t loaded up with its cargo until noon the next day - as Bank Town has no inn, the teams had best find somewhere out of the wind to spend the night, whether by borrowing an empty house in the sparsely populated town or bedding down against the ravine walls.

There are two routes marked as safe for stagecoach travel on each team’s map: one that swings north following the railroad tracks and passing close to Midpoint, and one that swings south along the floodplains. It’s up to the drivers which path to take, and up to the bandits to guess the right one. It’s a breezy day: tracks won’t last for long. (The bandits might do well to check at Booker’s General Store before they leave.)

The stagecoach won’t make good time, burdened as it is, and the horses can’t run all day, but that’s why there’s a note on each route for the drivers on where to change horses. That might be a good place to wait out the darkness-- unless someone is foolhardy enough to drive the new team of horses all night. The cargo is due at the Ranch by the end of the third day, so there’s plenty of time... but there’s the threat of bandits to worry about.

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For all your pre-round needs!

I. On the Road Again

"Ugh, I hate missions," Rocket grumbles as Groot carries him across the town to meet everyone else at Midpoint Saloon. As they have no horse, and have their own place away from the rest of the players, they have to get there. And also, they're harder to track down if they're late.

Which they are. They're the last two to show up to leave that morning, Groot looking the same as usual, Rocket with a big make-shift looking, telescoping rifle slung over his shoulder, where he rides on Groot's back. "Everybody here? Good. It's that way." Groot even does the pointing for him. Such a helpful tree-friend.

"So who's got ideas for this whole cargo delivery shit?" he asks as they ride. "Or is it my job to come up with the plan, like freakin' usual?"

II. Bank Town

"Rise and shine a-holes!" is what Rocket wakes his fellow teammates with. While he and Groot had been the last ones to show to leave the inn, they're the first ones awake today, out in the open, waiting for their stage to be ready.

He's also the most annoyed at the delay. He growls at the squirrelly-looking bank manager: "Are you kiddin' me? You're really still loading the thing? What are you putting in it, solid gold bars? What's taking so long!"

III. Cargo

One they've driven far enough along the northern route, Rocket scampers along the side of the stagecoach and pulls the door open. Got to take stock of what they're carrying and how feasible it will be to split it up.

"No freakin' way!" he yells. "Stop the coach! This is ridiculous!"

On one level, this is dumb, he has no investment in the outcome, and "guard the wagon" quests are for first level morons. He should know, he's been one.

On the other, where there's cargo, there's lootables, and jobs mean payment of some kind. There's even a slim chance it is gold bars. In which case he'll be stealing everything that's not nailed down.

"Anything good, or is it, like, middle grade detective novels?" He's trying to think of bales of heavy things that people seem to need in large numbers.

As the stagecoach slows, Rocket flings the door open wider. "It's boxes. Crates. And they're all freakin' empty." They're carrying a load of supply crates, all neatly stacked, filling the entire cab of the coach. Apparently what took so long to pack them in was jigsawing them all in to fit so neatly.

"I am Groot," Groot puts in, leaning over to peer in from where he'd been running alongside the carriage.

"That is the dumbest cargo I ever carried," Rocket grouses.

"Got it, totally arbitrary tasks in the name of entertainment. I can respect that. Less stupid than wrestling." Ways to cheat flit across his head, but when the goals are completely manufactured, being clever isn't always rewarded. Presenting, say, all the air in these boxes might count, or it might annoy whoever's judging this thing. And there might be secret, invisible cargo that materializes at the end.

Also, nothing to steal now, better hold on for later. "Questing for Dummies, here we come. On the plus side, super light."

"Yeah, never said the goals were smart," Rocket grouses. "Just that they look good on camera. The audience is probably gonna laugh at this."

He bounces inside, now, and hefts at one of the crates. "And they ain't that light. They're made of wood. Pretty solid, from the looks of 'em. Gettin' these on the horses is gonna be a pain in the ass. Think we can drag 'em or somethin'?"

"With a levitating platform, but that way we're either splitting the cargo or we have to rig something else entirely. Best idea is probably just use something bigger than a horse." He considers Garyl, but for all his raditude, the binicorn isn't actually any better at carrying stuff than your bog-standard horsey.

"What, you wanna try and rope one of the buffalo?" Rocket asks. "Or you expectin' Groot to carry it all?"

"I am Groot," says Groot.

"Yeah, man, I know you can't." It may be that Taako has not confided that he's able to shapeshift into a giant terror-lizard yet.

"That sounds rad, but no, we're good." Taako grips his silly umbrella, but transmutation is his game, and it doesn't call for any particular gesture or saying any dope magical shit beyond that. Some transformations are almost instantaneous, but the sheer size of Dupree extends the effect somewhat, extending the small, spindly, humanoid-ish elf into an immense ball of teeth and feathers with tiny, tiny arms.

When the shift is over, he's still wearing the pointy hat, but it looks comically tiny instead of ridiculously large.

Still clinging to the side of the stagecoach, Rocket watches with an open mouth. It's like watching Groot grow, but at the same time very much not.

"Holy shit," he says once the transformation appears to be finished. "What the frick."

The shock turns into glee, and he jumps down, scampering over to make a cheerful attempt at climbing right up the now-dinosaur-formed Taako's leg, side, and up to his head. "This is freakin' perfect. Can you talk? How long can you stay like that? Can you carry stuff like this?" His arms are bitty, but maybe if they like wrapped it all up in Groot's vines ore something.

The answering voice is louder and deeper (which, since Taako is excessively pitchy and mumbles half of what he says, is hard to avoid), but it sounds less like the voice that should belong to this towering monster and more like the same person talking at the bottom of his range instead of the top. It's a bit labored and unclear, though, talking through a mouthful of bone knives the size of bananas. "Spell lasts an hour, can do it three more times, better tie it on unless you wanna ride in my mouth, which is gross." He's done it. But it's gross.

"Ew, no. And it's gonna probably take half that time to rig up something that'll stay put on your back and not fall apart when you change back."

He sounds all but gleeful, though. This is a great development. "Awright, let's start getting crates out! Groot, get over here and make us some vines."

"I am Groot?"

"Yeah, there's some rope on everybody's saddles, too, we can use 'em both."

It might have made more sense to explain, construct some sort of cleverly re-usable harness, and then transform, but Taako isn't one to pass up a dramatic gesture for a practical result. Though maybe whenever he has to break he can transmute whatever they rig up into solid wood or something, make a more permanent rig. Ah, well, later. "Can't cast any other spells like this, homie, so let's not waste it, hmm?" It is hard to hmm evocatively when you are a dinosaur.

"You're talkin' like I'm not a genius engineer and inventor, buddy," Rocket snaps, but not with and particular bite. "We'll get this set up, you just hold still so we can get enough vines and rope for you and the crates."

"I am Groot," Groot says sternly, and holds up his hands. Thick vines start growing out, clearly controlled and looping up over Taako's back, which Rocket jumps down from Taako's head to scramble down.

"Nerd," is all the dinosaur mutters. Talking is difficult in this form, sure, but he's always willing to spare the effort to be kind of a dick. Otherwise, he puts his energy into hunkering down for rigging.

This is so stupid. A cargo delivery? What the fuck kind of entertainment do these people want? That's boring as fuck, for both those watching and those participating.

"What happens if we lose; do we die? How good does this plan have to be?"

He isn't clear on that, but Inara made it sound like people died a lot.

"If we lose? Nothin'. We just don't get paid. If the bandits comin' for whatever it is we're guarding shoot us, then yeah, then we die." It's not about the cargo itself, after all, it's about the fight over the cargo that's bound to happen. "Though if we don't do anything at all to protect it, then we might get actually punished. And you don't want that, trust me."

He's not worried about bullets for the most part. His jumpsuit is bulletproof; though he's not sure to which extent some things work here. It's weird.

"If 'bandits' are all we're worrying about, take whatever the fuck it is off the stagecoach so they chase that."

It's simple, but that's the way he operates.

"Not a bad idea," Rocket allows, "but it depends on what the cargo is. What if it's barrels of water, or big fat bars of gold. Or crates of chickens. Comin' from Bank Town to the Ranch train station, could be anything. How are we gonna carry somethin' big and weird and heavy like that ourselves? Not even Groot is gonna handle eight crates of chickens."

"I am Groot," tree-man puts in.

"Nobody's gonna make you carry chickens, Groot, I was just using that as an example," Rocket says, rolling his eyes.

"I don't fucking know!"

He's annoyed, and so close to just walking off out into the desert.

"You figure that shit out!"

"Which means I gotta come up with the plan by myself, like I thought," Rocket sniffs, sounding unsurprised and unimpressed, both. "Don't know why I ever thought somebody else might have a good idea."

Yoda is just leaning on his cane for the time being. Watching the whole thing. "Assistance, do they require?"

How much assistance an elderly green being of unspecified species will be... well, surely entertainment value at least.

"They won't let us," Rocket grouses, across Groot's shoulders, behind his head. Groot ducks it a little so his top-branches won't get in the way, looking tolerantly amused. "It's the way things work. Gotta keep it a freakin' secret until the big reveal or whatever."

"Faster, we could make it." But he chuckles. Apparently they don't want faster for some reason. This is really very strange system.

"Sure we could. Probably more efficient, too! But nooooo, gotta wait out here like idiots," Rocket complains.

He looks down at Yoda, frowning. "So what's your deal, greenie? Where you from?" Clearly he's not human, and Rocket doesn't claim to know every species out there in the universe (or multiverses, whatever).

I. Departure

Misty wakes early in hopes of getting to North before any other active players think to load up on their respective breakfasts, and once obtained the meal is taken upstairs to her shared suite. The remainder of the morning is spent on one last walk through Booker's, and then waiting in the stables.

"Suited up? Packed?" She'll ask of any and all teammates as they make their way in. There's only so long one can wait and pretend their saddlebags need fiddling with; she might sound eager to be moving. "We're not turning around once we leave, schedule's too tight. Double-check now if there's any doubt. And if you've got any strong leanings as the plan goes, I'm listening. Any secret skills, now'd be the time to share."

II. In Which We Wait

This portion is, in a word, boring. Four people hunkered in the dirt, horses on standby, at the bottom of a large enough dip to keep them comfortably obscured even at their distance. Some hours will be afforded, and either they'll be passed or they'll have ruled this path out and they can cut directly across. They'll know if the other team is close by even without needing to see, but it does require some alertness on Misty's part for sensing purposes. Which proves increasingly difficult, stifling heat and utter lack of entertainment proving less than inspirational.

"Don't suppose anybody's got any interesting stories," she ventures, less than optimistically while watching a beetle scuttle across the toe of her boot. "Or like...a word game."

III. Saboteurs

The farmstead is a welcome surprise, standing out from the empty shacks occasionally passed on the ride enough to warrant inspection. Even were it similarly empty, it would be a stable place to sleep away from the elements. Very little poking around reveals the horses, watered and fed and ready to be hitched, and that's more than encouraging enough to make up for the uneventful ride.

"They're probably set up to overnight here, swap out horses to finish the last leg fresh." Which means it's a resource they can remove and claim for themselves. "Doubtful, but maybe there's food inside. Could dig around, if there's anything worth taking we leave about a quarter of it so they just think the gamemakers are shorting them? Ride a little further on, eat, get a couple cat naps in before entrenching ourselves."

Sam has lost count of the number of times he'd been in situations similar to this both when he was deployed and as an Avenger. Everyone knows about heroic action and fights, but no one thinks about all the quiet waiting and watching for the other side to make their move, to make themselves known.

It's boring as hell and there's not a whole lot you can do in the meantime.

He turns his head when Misty finally speaks up. This could be a unique opportunity actually, "What counts as interesting in this case?"

"Anything that isn't this?" It's left open ended so she can think a little after she says it. In the absence of anything more substantial, she nods and doubles down. "Anything that isn't just waiting around in a desert. Please."

That is strangely helpful -- after all it takes away most of his stories from the military tour of the middle east. Besides the fact that no one probably wants to hear war stories right now. Sam glances around for inspiration, he'd spoken up but now he had to think of an interesting story to share.

He decides to buy for time, "Childhood or a more recent story?"

"Doesn't matter. Childhood'd be neat, I guess-- not the kind of thing people are usually hustling to share, considering the circumstances. Which is a shame. Colorful folks we get, there's probably a lot of good anecdotes around we're not hearing."

Lovely as the beetle is, it's hardly holding attention as well as a story would. What she knows of Soldat's history certainly implies there's some wild potential, here.

Sam leans back, quietly thinking for a moment -- childhood or something else?

"I grew up in Harlem -- so all this wild west stuff was only something I saw in movies or tv. I don't think I even knew how big a horse really was until my mom took me to the zoo at a young age...they had one of those petting zoo things, you know? Horses, chickens, goats, ducks, that sort of thing. We weren't allowed to have pets in the apartment we lived in -- but I was always pretty good with animals. So, when we got to go to the petting zoo, I was having the time of my life, even managed to get all of the ducks to follow me around the pen."

He smirks, as he both tells and remembers the story, "Of course, my sister wanted to try it for herself. She thought she could grab them and get them to follow her too. The ducks didn't like that so much and started trying to bite her. She was screaming and crying, but for some reason wouldn't let go of the duck's wing -- so of course it kept at her. Mom was shouting at her to let go while trying to climb the fence, but I got to her first and managed to coax her hand away from the duck. Not without getting pecked myself a bit -- but by then we had riled up a bunch of the other animals too. Needless to say, my sister didn't go back to the zoo for a long time after that and even for awhile was convinced I had somehow gotten the ducks to attack her."

Sara just gives a curt nod in response to the question of whether or not she's ready to go. She's accustomed to tight timelines and harsh terrain, and she's already triple-checked her - relatively meagre - gear. It's not the loadout she'd like to have, but she can make do.

She's done with far less in the past.

"How closely do these 'game makers' stick to the letter of the law when they're deciding who wins these things?" she asks.

"More than you're probably assuming, hard as it can be to believe. I can't speak to the history of the place, but I think the idea is that they're looking for a creative, effective, dramatic way to get from A to B; not how good people are at finding loopholes."

Cheating isn't the goal, and it's best for everyone on either side of the fence to have clear, straightforward instructions. The logic more or less bears out to her.

"Whatever instructions they give, that's what they're looking at. Nothing less or more."

"Loopholes are creative and effective," Sara notes as she sets about readying her horse for departure with a careful efficiency that speaks both to familiarity with the procedure and with the procedure and with the potential hurdles of equine temperament. "And sometimes dramatic. It sounds like what they're looking for is a bloodbath."

Which makes sense. The more confrontations between teams, the more violence any of them show willing to inflict on each other in order to win these little games and earn a few more creature comforts, the harder it is to build any trust. It's an effective means of keeping their prisoners from banding together.

"Do you know anyone who's tried? To tie a match without triggering either side's losing condition, I mean."

I [to Misty]

Jo isn't convinced this is a real thing. Granted, there's been the chance this is all some kind of illusion from the beginning, but now they have to play pretend? (Maybe not as 'pretend' as she would like.)

"What kind of 'secret'," Here she uses finger quotes to enhance her sarcasm, which she is employing to continue to hide how concerned she is about all of this. "Skills would be useful on this adventure?"

Sorry, Misty.

III [OTA]

Jo rode horses a little as a kid, it came with growing up in a small agricultural town, but that didn't mean she was good at it, or that her body wasn't crying out for a long hot bath.

She dismounts with only a little trouble, scanning her surroundings warily.

"I can check the house. Anyone want to join me?" Jo is no stranger to breaking and entering. She's just as familiar with theft. Maybe, in this case, it isn't so much theft but scavenging?

I. North Route

The stagecoach went north, following the route marked on the map and passing pas Midpoint. Rocket's in the driver's seat, along with one of the other members of his team-- not Groot, oddly enough. There's no sign of the big tree-person.

Or of the rest of the team. There's only one horse running along with the stagecoach. What's going on here?

II. Somewhere down the middle

If the bandit team gets savvy, or finds the stagecoach and attempts to rob it with little success, they might turn south and spread out to try and find the rest of the cargo. What they'll find is a freakin' dinosaur lugging the cargo in question, a bunch of empty crates, in a net lashed to its (his?) back and sides made out of a mix of rope and vines. He's making haste for the Ranch, along with the missing Groot and final member of the team.

Are you gonna try to rob that? Let's see how it goes, guys.

Taako (as Dupree) is focused on running. He's more a speed guy than endurance, but this body is a lot tougher than the usual one. The ground-shaking mass of feathers and teeth barrels forward steadily. Stealth isn't exactly an option, so he's relying on barreling through any resistance.

Eventually the spell runs down. He cuts it as close as he can, crouching down in the laborious way the tryannosaur body requires and not quite lowering himself enough before polymorph wears off. Taako drops the last few feet as himself, holding his hat in place and dodging as soon as he hits to avoid being smacked by the net.

Stagecoaches suck. They're bumpy and there's dust everywhere from the horse kicking up sand. It's hard to see too far for potential robbers, but he also isn't paying as much attention as he should be. This isn't serious.

"You bring snacks?"

"Did I bring snacks. Are you serious? Do I look like I brought snacks?" Rocket shifts the reins to his other tiny hand and waves the first at his very small self. "We get snacks at the waystation. Geez."

It's remarkable how often a Jedi ends of riding some creature or other. Especially in the past few years. So Yoda is managing to look remarkably serene while perched on top of a dinosaur. He almost looks like he isn't paying attention as he uses the Force to sense for danger.

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Round 85: The Long Haul, Part 8

Booker's General Store

Rocket and Groot - Driver's team, part 1!

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Misty Day | Bandit: the first

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It's Robber Time! Open to both teams!

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