On paper, the job is simple enough. Escort an MIT caravan of equipment and supplies from MITHRA-II to Vintergard. It's a little
odd, considering most of the flow has been
to MITHRA-II, but it's not as if you're being paid to theorize.
The group that's answered the call is a mixed bag. Perhaps the only shared trait is a willingness to brave both a dissonant hellscape and a robotic battlefield. Well, two shared traits - it takes a certain kind of person to
willingly sign up for an escort mission.
"Alright everyone, gather round!" Bartholomew Lux is a familiar face by now. He's spent most of his time onboarding the various hires on the team or shouting at the Fixers as they load up the caravan. He's friendly enough, though the observant or nosy may have caught him pausing to scratch furiously at his arms.
"You should all have your squads assembled and your cart assignments figured out. If you don't, you better come talk to me. This is a group project." The half-hearted joke draws a few chuckles, mostly from the Fixers who have clearly had to deal with this man's sense of humor.
"Remember - UI-locks have priority on sleepers! If you're planning on logging out, change your settings to 'Unsynced' and use the designated log-out locations."
He looks down at his collection of flash cards, sifting through to find anything he might have missed.
"The weather's expected to hold, but if we hit a storm we'll be pushing through. If you're on weather crew, you already know what your job is."
Flip, flip, flip. Bartholomew eventually runs out of announcements to make and shoves the stack of cards into his pocket. "Last of all,
please read the warnings before you go poking around the shipments. We have some very expensive and very
dangerous equipment, and you will be held liable for any damages your fuckery incurs. Specifically, Winter will hold you liable, and I'd really suggest not messing with her."
He gestures to the other familiar face in the crowd, though this one hasn't spent nearly as much time socializing.
Wintermute has been an omnipresent sight near the high-risk cargo, directing the few Fixers trusted to move it. Everyone else has been warded off with sharp glares and vague threats, but she hasn't been much for conversation. Even now she seems to shy away from Bartholomew's attention, though not before shooting him a look that promises later reprisal.
"Alright, we clear? Everyone got their spells prepped and their weapons sharp? Then lets get this train moving!"
The Caravan
Weather: Clear | Morale: High | Risk: Secure
The caravan is a hodgepodge of wagons and carriages, as if gathered from whatever was left over. Most are wooden, but a few, well-guarded wagons look almost modern, driven by magitek engines rather than drawn by livestock. There are a few for resting and sleeping, but most of them are supplies. You're expected to spend most of your time walking here.
Bartholomew Lux
Interaction
He's been pretty insistent you call him by his full first name, but it seems like most people call him "Barty". He's open enough to conversation when he isn't busy. His arms are pretty messed up from all the scratching he does.
Wintermute
Interaction
Quiet and sharp. She spends all her time around the high-clearance wagons and isn't much for conversation. She'll be pretty upset if she catches you messing with them.
Caravan
Investigation
Most of the caravan consists of construction supplies and food, but a few of them contain samples and projects looking for a new home. Some of them seem pretty important, but you'll have to snoop to learn why.
OOC
Escort the caravan across the High March and to Vintergard, protecting it from bandits and monsters, and maybe have a chat with the people in charge of the whole thing. Don't worry too much about the mysterious containers. Or maybe do. I'm not your mom.
Two posts per "cycle", one character per player. Mostly freeform, but complicated actions and certain scenarios may warrant a dice roll. Drop in and drop out at any time. Updates whenever it feels right.
Tag me if you interact with an NPC or if you do something that warrants a roll.
