I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

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Matty
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I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Matty » June 8th, 2018, 9:36 pm

In another world, probably a portal stone but who really knows, Matty doesn't

Maxton Carridus, former M'Hael of the Black Tower
It was a good day to be Maxton. To be fair, every day was a good day to be Maxton, because Maxton was awesome. But today was particularly awesome because there was going to be sausages, a boat, and probably some fishing or whatever boring stuff Calmon wanted to do.

In the years after the Last Battle Maxton had grown into the role of M'Hael, though he'd never been the diplomat Rhiann wanted him to be. He'd always been a man of action and to be fair, after the nonsense of the Third Age, seventy years as M'Hael was quite long enough. Not that the man looked any older; being gentled then fixed, combined with his uncanny strength in Saidin, meant he still looked like he was in his thirties.

Still, it got to the point where Maxton had done everything he'd set out to do. They'd managed to build a solid relationship with the White Tower and the Seanchan were kept in line, so there wasn't all that much to get stressed about any more. The Mayener passed the role on to his secretary Rook, who was a combination of pleased and terrified, but Maxton knew he'd be fine. He didn't have a handover or anything, he just upped and left. Today was his first morning as just regular old Maxton, and it felt pretty flaming good.

He had a breakfast which was mostly sausages, then he bathed and dressed and stomped on out to find Calmon. The Asha'man didn't bother with his uniform, instead opting for a simple red shirt and some shorts, neither of which quite fit his bulk. But he was on flaming holiday and he was going to holiday, burn it all. With a grin on his bristly face Max made his way to Calmon's rooms and smacked his hand on the door. "Hey Cal!" he rumbled, "you ready to leave or what? The train'll go without us!" This fancy railway system was a pretty new and exciting thing, but Maxton had only been on it a couple of times. A trip from the Black Tower to Mayene - and as a result, his boat - was arranged a couple of days previously for Maxton by Rook, but the man had sensibly given Calmon his tickets. And his packed lunch. Max wasn't going to leave without his little friend, who really ought to be awake. The sun had almost risen!
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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Macca » June 9th, 2018, 12:44 pm

Calmon Denvar, Asha'man of the Black Tower
Calmon came to consciousness slowly. It had been many decades since he had been accustomed to being woken so suddenly in the early hours of the morning. The door shook with another slap and there was no mistaking the gruff voice coming from outside his chambers. Not troubling to stifle his yawn, Calmon resigned himself to waking and grabbed a fistful of his covers, pulling them aside. He stretched as he rose, lifting his hands first towards the ceiling and then to each side with a soft, sleepy groan. Thanks to the One Power, Calmon certainly didn’t look it but sometimes he swore he felt every one of his hundred years of age.

“Peace, M’Hael,” he called out in a quiet, measured tone. No need to wake the neighbors. “I’m coming.”

A glance towards the curtained window told him it was still well and truly dark outside but the cold black coals of his fireplace meant that dawn couldn’t be too far away. Without bothering to put on a robe, Calmon padded his way to the front door wearing only the loose trousers he slept in. As he walked, he instinctively smoothed and straightened his mustache, gone crooked from sleep. Outside, the hallway was bathed in the warm glow of torchlight and Calmon took in the site of the red-shirted, shorts-wearing man before him. Maxton’s Secretary had told him he might need train tickets but he hadn’t mentioned for what and when. Not to Calmon at least, that sneak.

“Well well well, Citizen Maxton.” They’d talked about it, of course but seeing the man in shorts was another thing entirely. A seventy year reign, over just like that. “It is done then?” A gruff nod was all he needed to know that there was a new M’Hael by the name of Rook, no doubt wetting himself somewhere. He’d be alright, though. He was a good Asha’man, Rook - an excellent administrator and just what the Black Tower needed at present. Not that everyone would agree, of course. Grahville would be furious, if unsurprised. Surely even he must have known that Maxton would never willingly elevate him and his small band of malcontents.

“Come on in.” Standing to one side of the door so as to make room for the big man, Calmon ushered Maxton through and closed the door behind them. He didn’t tell his friend that he was early for the same reason he didn’t offer him a seat - he understood the man’s impatience and anxiousness to get going, to leave before too many could wake within the Tower and make a fuss. When you’d spent as many years working alongside one another as they had, you didn’t need a Bond to predict what the other was thinking.

Widely regarded as one of the leading military thinkers and strategists of his time and a prominent Maxton loyalist, it had surprised no one when Calmon was quickly made one of Maxton’s chief advisors upon his ascension to M’Hael. Over the decades, he had served his friend in a variety of roles, first as the M’Hael’s 2IC on all things military and then later as Master of Soldiers, overseeing the training of a new generation of Asha’man.

Those hoping for the world’s problems to end with the Last Battle done and dusted would all have felt sorely cheated. While it was true that nothing had since been anywhere near as bad, life hadn’t been all sunshine and roses at the Black Tower. Not originally a signatory to the Dragon’s Peace, some initial quick political footwork had been required to secure the Tower’s future independance. As time wore on, a myriad of problems began to emerge within a population of men who had been told for years they were weapons and nothing more. The Asha’man had no more been trained to help mend societies than swords had been forged to mend horseshoes. Black Tower men later came to know these troubles as ‘the Restlessness’ and it had claimed many lives.

Through all the minor skirmishes and uprisings, through all the political tightrope walking, Calmon and Maxton had stuck by one another. Whether Maxton needed him to bring fire and fury to their enemies or a lighter touch to smooth over the M’Hael’s rougher edges with their friends, Calmon had been able and willing. Unquestionably, Maxton had proved any early detractors wrong. Unpredictable yet decisive, the M’Hael had dragged the Black Tower into the Fourth Age with his own unique blend of brute force and indomitable will. What had been achieved in that time, Calmon would never forget.

All this and more ran through Calmon’s head as he put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, looking at him seriously. “You did well, Maxton.”

He let that hang for a moment then: “I’m going to put some clothes on now.”

Dressing quickly, Calmon followed Maxton’s lead and forwent his black uniform in favour of good quality green and brown cloth. He scribbled some quick notes for his assistant to find and grabbed the the train tickets from his desk drawer, placed them carefully in his bag of supplies so as not to bend them. The train was due to leave nearby Caemlyn shortly after sunrise and would be here not too long after. He was over a hundred years old and yet there were countless creations in this world that Calmon still knew very little about. He’d have to ask the driver to explain how exactly this train worked.

Calmon paused but then reached for his sword and scabbard. Best not tempt the Pattern. Sword strapped to his waist, bag slung over his shoulder, Calmon turned to Maxton. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Matty » June 9th, 2018, 10:26 pm

Maxton It was good to see Calmon, it always was, though that moustache and the fact that he bothered to wear clothes for sleeping always amused the (former) M'Hael. Maxton was generally unused to compliments and had nothing to really add that he didn't know already, but he appreciated Calmon's kind words even if they meant he still wasn't dressed. "Yeah, well, time for a break," he said a tad gruffly. Light knew that if he ever changed his mind he could just step back in and take the role, though the White Tower might frown upon such tactics. They wanted the Black Tower to adopt some of their traditions, which were boring and dumb. Votes and negotiations and discussions and blah blah blah. That sort of thing was much more up Calmon's street than Max's, though he'd sat in on enough meetings himself to know that they were a substitute for proper, actual change. As a result the Black Tower was a little less chatty than the White about simple matters such as a change in leadership...

Max was excited to get going for a myriad of reasons and once Calmon was all set and asking what he was waiting for, well, the Mayener snorted loudly. "I was waiting for you, ya lazy arse," he said. "Now c'mon let's go before the whole Tower tries to interview me." It wasn't that people didn't know he was stepping down, he'd made an announcement, but the when of it was in the air. Maxton had met with the major figureheads worth meeting beforehand to warn them, his handover wasn't quite as impulsive as Matty's first post suggests, but it was not earmarked in anyone's calendar as an exact day. Until it was, like today.

"I don't think you'll need a sword, I'll be there," Maxton assured Calmon, but he let the man take the pointy weapon anyway. "So, let's do this!" The two men left the Black Tower as they had many times before, a simple trip to the Travelling Grounds and a Gateway to Caemlyn Station. Stations at major cities had places called Gateparks where people could Gate in and out, though they didn't see a great deal of use. Why would you Gate to a train when you could, y'know, Gate to where you actually wanted to go? But the trains were good for non-Travelling folk, and they were certainly good enough for Maxton and Calmon.

"Never been on a train before," Maxton said as they went through the barrier to stand at the small platform that constituted Caemlyn Train Station, Southbound. At this time of the morning there were only a few people around, mostly those who worked for the city, but they kept to themselves after a few second glances at the two men - one with a sword and a moustache, the other the size of a bear. "They've done some good work at the Schools though, eh? I keep meaning to swing by, see how they're getting on, but it ain't the same now." Maxton's only son, Junior, had worked at the School in Caemlyn and was a dab hand with mechanics, but he'd not been a channeller, and he'd died before his time even then. Rook had stepped in for a week as Maxton took some time out, but then the man returned and carried on as if he'd not lost his only (legitimate, known) child. That was all you could do.

Their ride pulled into the station with a puff of smoke and a whirring of wheels, tooting its whistle. The train itself was a glossy red thing, with a few carriages snaking behind. A few folk with coal-stained hands stood outside the front of the train to catch their breath and have a drink, and the man knew that this was where the magic happened. It was a strange mix of channelling and steam power, Maxton never understood it but even someone with the strength of their weakest Soldiers could trigger the mechanisms and off it went. It was pretty interesting, if you were a nerd.

"Keep a hand on those tickets," Max said as they approached the train doors. He tugged one open, made a face at the size of the door, and said "after you, I insist. You're the one that's armed."

As it was the train carriage had a narrow corridor along one side, with separate compartments for people to sit in along it. As Max understood it, different carriages had different seating arrangements, but there was no way the carriage with the many seats would be comfortable, and Max didn't care for it. No, a private room was preferred. Even if, as Calmon went on ahead and opened the door their tickets had reserved, it was a little pokey. Two regular folk would probably knock their knees sitting across from each other, and these booths of sorts could seat four altogether. Max took up two of the seats through necessity and sat with his legs open so Calmon could actually put his own somewhere. Pokey, but Maxton was used to that generally. "How long does it take to get to Mayene?" he asked. glancing up at the light overhead. Not the best at reading residues, Maxton did note the light was worked using a tied weave of Fire and Air, and the brightness could be altered by turning a handle by the door that closed off the glass light. In the early morning dark the brightness was welcoming.
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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Macca » June 12th, 2018, 8:20 am

Calmon
Calmon nodded as Maxton praised the work the Schools had done, casting a sideways glance at his friend as he made reference to his son. The big man rarely mentioned Junior and Calmon knew better than to say anything that might prod that old wound. “Truly a wonder,” he agreed instead as the bright red train pulled up. “The Wheel turns so fast these days, I swear we’ll be back in the Age of Legends by early next month.”

Men covered in soot piled out of the front carriage and lent about, catching their breath. Around them the small station sprung into action with passengers boarding and disembarking. Up the back of the train, Calmon could see several crates of cargo being wheeled into the rear carriages via ramps. The train routes had revolutionised trade routes and seldom did a train travel without some merchant or other and their wares. Whatever was being loaded today was heavy, judging by the care being taken by those doing the loading. A number of armed men oversaw the process but wore no uniform. One of them caught sight of Calmon and frowned at the weapon he saw at his side. Hired swords, then. Heavy AND expensive.

Calmon snorted at Maxton’s suggestion that he should go first because he was the one wearing a sword. “Certainly, Father Max.” They both knew swords were more a cosmetic deterrent than anything else for an Asha’man and of the two, Maxton was clearly the stronger in the One Power. I guess this is how Warders must feel, Calmon thought to himself as he stepped up into the first passenger carriage.

Warder…

The thought took him back and he had a flash of memory of when he had a Warder of his own. Rigby, his protector and wife had stayed with him for over thirty years before leaving to spend her last days travelling. Calmon’s generation of Asha’man had been the first of the male channelers to learn what the Aes Sedai had long experienced. More than seventy years on since the Last Battle and Rigby was now gone, along with every non-channeler Calmon had known from his youth. Meanwhile, he was destined to live for centuries unless the Pattern deemed otherwise. It was a heavy though. Much heavier than whatever was in those crates.

The compartment would have been cramped for even regularly sized people but with Maxton’s considerable size, it was comically small. I guess those Schools aren’t perfect after all. Unbuckling his sword, Calmon set it in the chair against the window and reached for Saidin. He drew only enough for a simple weave he had used countless times before to hold the sword in place and ensure that nobody could unsheathe or otherwise remove it should he fall asleep. Tying off the weave, he settled his legs in between Maxton’s. Some things never changed.

The need for Calmon to respond to Maxton’s question about travel time was negated by the perfect timing of one of the train’s attendants. Short and thin, he looked well suited to walking the narrows corridors. “Welcome aboard, gentlemen. May I see your tickets?”

Calmon produced them from his bag and the attendant cast a careful eye over them. “Thank you, sir. With us all the way to Mayne, I see. Excellent. Please allow me to run through our itinerary. We shall be departing Caemlyn shortly and from there, travel towards Far Madding. Lunch will be served in the dining carriage around noon and we should arrive in Far Madding not long after sunset where we shall disembark for the night and you will be shown to your accommodation. From there we will travel to Tear and from Tear to Godan. We will be arriving in Mayne in just four short days of travel.” He paused smugly, clearly expecting his guests would be impressed. In truth, Calmon was..but in the way an adult might be impressed to see a toddler walk for the first time. Both he and Maxton could open a gateway and step through to Mayne instantly - judging by Maxton’s face, he was thinking something similar.

The first few hours were passed talking. Nothing of world-moving importance, just two friends talking as friends are prone to do. About people they knew or had known, about rumours they hadn’t yet had a chance to share and about times and adventures shared. Talk gave way to a companionable silence as Calmon took out his pipe and a bag of tabac.

The silence was broken by raised voices from outside their compartment and hurried footsteps - lots of time. The train began to slow. Frowning at Maxton, Calmon rose, pipe in hand to go and see what the commotion was about. The door slid open before he had a chance to take a step and standing in the doorway was the hired sword who’d frowned at him back at the platform in Caemlyn. In his hands he held a crossbow, which he pointed at Calmon. At his side was a long, curved knife.

“Sit down and hands away from that sword!” The mercenary shouted. There were similar refrains coming from the adjoining compartments and Calmon tried to think back to how many mercs he’d seen on the platform.

Instinctively, Calmon grabbed a hold of Saidin, weaving a shield to protect against the crossbow. His voice flat and emotionless from within the Void, he spoke to Maxton. “Yours or mine?”

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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Matty » June 12th, 2018, 11:37 am

Le Maxton It was the first time in a long time that Maxton just sat and "hung out" with anyone. He and Calmon had a lot of business dealings, sure, but to just shoot the breeze as the train trundled down the country towards wherever they said first, was very enjoyable for the man. Over the years he'd managed to settle his temper a little, though his massive boot did tap impatiently of its own accord as he looked out the window, and Calmon lit his pipe. This was a slightly longer trip than he had planned, and he could have just Gated to the bloody port in Mayene. Ah well, in some ways he was anonymous and invisible on this train, nobody to bother him about the Black Tower apart from Calmon. It was a real weight off his shoulders.

"Still got a way to go to the Age of Legends if you ask me," Maxton muttered as he tapped his foot, "but I think we're off to a pretty good start."

Of course, their little holiday was rudely interrupted by some tryhards who thought they could... what? What was their plan exactly, intimidation? Max could only raise his eyebrows at the merc who thought to tell Calmon to sit down, and he grinned briefly at the shield the man wove.

"Oh, he's all yours my friend," Maxton said amiably, "You're already stood up and all. But I'd be interested to see if he does actually shoot. You any good at firing that thing?" Maxton asked the man, who was still holding the crossbow with a reasonably steady aim. "Where'd you get that? Looks Cairhienin, which is why the trigger's a bit snug in that fat thumb of yours."

"Shut your mo- holy crap," the man started when he got a proper look at Max. But it wasn't Maxton who was doing anything, it was Calmon, and the man was promptly tugged into the room and tied up in Saidin by the mustachioed channeller. Maxton grinned a little more, then got to his feet as well. "I guess a holiday's too much to ask for," he grumbled, "ah well." He cracked his knuckles and then his bull neck. "Cal, you make this fellow sing, yeah? I'll clear the rest of the rabble out." He turned and wriggled through the door into the corridor proper, giving Calmon a wink before closing the door to give them some privacy.

In the corridor lay a woman, a crossbow bolt through her chest. Next to her was an upturned trolley, and standing on guard was a very surprised looking swordarm holding a crossbow of his own.

"You.. you killed the trolley woman? When I was so flaming close to having snacks?!" Maxton clenched his fists, "I don't care who you are or what yer up to, but I draw the line at killing innocent people." He seized Saidin, and unceremoniously threw the man out of the nearby window, a window that was conveniently open for such a thing. Maxton nodded and then went to the next room, shoving his arm through and grabbing the mercenary there. He pulled the man out and held him up like a rag doll before carrying him down the corridor. Out the window he went.

Ohh, they'd stopped on a bridge. That was unfortunate.

At this point the other armed men were coming to see what the fuss was about. The fuss, of course, was Maxton, and he dealt with them in the same way as he had the first fellow. Out of the window they went, no need to mess the train up with their corpses. "Stay in yer rooms for now, yeah?" he told the various folk in the rooms. "I'll sort this out and get us going again soon. Lock yer door and don't answer unless it's to Maxton or Calmon. That's us." He jerked a thumb down the corridor. "Man has a moustache."

"They have people in all the carriages. They want to take over the train!"

No shit. Maxton patted the man's arm, "We'll sort it." He then left and shut the door in time to see Calmon stood there. "Any news?" he asked. "Our carriage is all clear, but I dunno how long for. We've got a bit of time, I reckon. Did your new friend have anything to say? I reckon we have a full takeover on our hands, something to do with the cargo we're tooting along with us probably. They didn't reckon on any channellers being here though."
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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Macca » June 12th, 2018, 1:55 pm

Calmon
Calmon nodded at Maxton. “Much obliged.”

The mercenary snarled, "Shut your mo- holy crap -" He never did get to finish for at that moment Calmon gagged him with a weave of Air. A wave of confusion swept over the man’s face, turning to horror as Calmon bound him with yet more Air and yanked him inside the compartment.

The Asha’man allowed himself a grim smile as Maxton left them to it. “Oh, he’ll sing alright. Won’t you, my good man?” The door slid shut. A shocked cry came from outside, loud at first and then dwindling. “I do believe my friend has just thrown one of your comrades out the window. Would you like to see what that’s like?”

Sliding their own window open with his hand, Calmon gripped his Weaves of Air and guided the bound man forward and then out the window head first so that he was suspended over the ravine the bridge was spanning. Down below a river was running. He could feel the man wriggling with all his might, but to no avail. He let the bonds loosen, enough to give the man the sensation of falling for a brief moment, then pulled him back inside.

Undoing his earlier Weave, he unsheathed his sword, putting the blade at the bound man’s throat. Sometimes it was best to follow up an unseen threat with an old, familiar one. “I’m going to ungag you now. If you call out, you die and I’ll find another one of your friends to chat to.” He unbound the man’s head so that he could nod. “Do you understand?” He did. “Who hired you?”

The man licked his lips, terrified. “Please,” he moaned. “Please.” Perhaps he’d overdone it.

“Let’s try another one. What the blood and bloody ashes are you doing?

“The cargo...we...we got the contract. Switched out with the team that was supposed to be guarding it.”

Calmon nodded impatiently. “And when you got it? When you had control of the train?”

The merc shook his head. “We just need to make sure the train stopped on the bridge. There’s a path down to the river. We were meant to carry everything down there. We were told another team would meet us down there to take us down the river.”

Calmon raised his eyebrows. “They look pretty heavy. Seems like a lot of trouble to go to...what’s in the crates?”

The merc seemed to be calming down somewhat, “How should I know? I didn’t ask. I do the job, I get paid - that’s all I need to know.”

“And again we come back to my earlier question: who’s doing the paying?”

“He didn’t give me a name and I...I never saw his face. Kept his hood down and...it was just hard to see, alright? His voice was strange, though. Yeah - he had a weird voice. You’d know it if you heard it.”

Well that was all maddeningly unhelpful. “These people down on the river - would they know you?”

The merc frowned. “Wouldn’t have thought so, no. Our outfit is from Cairhien.”

Calmon tried a few other angles before Maxton clambered back through the doorway but to no avail. He couldn’t get any more useful information out of him.

“They’re from Cairhien but they were hired in Caemlyn,” Calmon told Maxton when he returned. “They were contracted to take the train’s cargo down to the river where another team is supposedly waiting to take them all downstream. He says he doesn’t know what it is or who hired him. The only good news is that he says the river team wouldn’t recognise them,” he gave Maxton a significant look and raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Up to you, of course...but none of those mercenaries out there happen to be your size, do they?”

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Matty
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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Matty » June 12th, 2018, 9:30 pm

Maxton Hmmm, what Calmon had was a start and certainly more than Max would have bothered to try and get out of anyone. He grunted at Calmon to show he'd heard, but offered no response for the moment. This wasn't unusual; Calmon gave the information, Maxton processed it, then they dealt with it. He wasn't as stupid as he looked, something that often worked to his advantage, but he wasn't a schemer or planner like Calmon and he was happy with that. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together.

But the former M'Hael did have some ideas of his own. "Hang on, something's not right." Maxton looked thoughtful for a second, then he wedged past Calmon and picked up the merc who'd talked. Without preamble Maxton tossed him out the window as well, then shut it with a firm click. "What?" He asked Calmon, seeing his expression. "They killed the trolley woman."

Now that was sorted, they needed a better plan. Maxton figured heading down to the river with the cargo was not a bad idea, but they didn't have uniforms and there was pretty much no chance of them finding one in Max's size. He was nicknamed Bear for a reason by some of his, er, ladyfriends. "They probably only hired folk who can fit on these tin can trains. If we're taking cargo down, I can carry boxes and hide behind those until we're close enough. Just the two of us might raise some eyebrows though - pretty sure there's more guys on the train causing a shitstorm that we need to deal with, and they won't buy just us two turning up." As much as Maxton wanted to simply barge on down and set everything on fire, he did possess slightly more intelligence than he normally let on. Storming the place wouldn't work, not when Calmon had a moustache. It was a sure givaway.

"The first thing we gotta do is get the train moving, and make sure the people on it are safe. I say we sweep the train front to back, and when it's clear of riff-raff we head off the bridge to the next safe stop. I don't wanna let these bastards get away but there's innocent people on board who need takin' care of first. And I promise we'll keep some of them alive so we can question them further." He smiled at Calmon. "Sound like a plan? You go to the front, you're the smart one who can figure out the controls if needed, and I'll head to the back where the cargo is." It so happened that now in the corridor, they had to pass one another, which was going to be terrible as Calmon took up a fair portion of the corridor, and Maxton blocked off the whole thing entirely with his width. There was a great deal of awkward shuffling and squeezing past one another until Calmon realised he could stand in the room and let Max stomp past safely. Phew. That sorted, Maxton grinned and gave the man a clasp on the shoulder. "Just like old times," he said cheerfully.

He heard the noise first. It was subtle but he picked up on it anyway. Footsteps on metal... coming from overhead. Maxton gave Calmon a quizzical look and pointed up with a finger on his lips. Was someone seriously on the top of the train? How did they even get up there? Sheesh, some people were crazy.
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Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Macca » June 13th, 2018, 10:26 am

Calmon
Calmon rolled his eyes with exasperation as Maxton manhandled his hereto-now co-operative captive out the window. He didn’t try to fight the big man - on the contrary, he reached out and relieved the merc of his still loaded crossbow. It was impulsive, self indulgent and slightly morally grey given his bound state - but Maxton would have his reasons. When he heard about the trolly lady he gave a sort of ‘fair enough’ shrug.

Calmon was juggling both his sword and a new crossbow as he considered what Maxton had to say and that wasn’t going to do. As they brainstormed, he resheathed the sword at his waist - useless here in close proximity - but kept the crossbow out because it was already loaded and why not? The big Asha’man was right - none of the mercenaries was going to be Maxton’s size and he couldn’t very well get away with wearing those shorts. Regardless, the immediate priority had to be the safety of the other passenger and Calmon nodded his agreement. “Done - let’s do it.”

Calmon cocked a wry eyebrow as he stepped back to let the larger man pass first. Old times indeed. He had his own code when it came to manners, Maxton but stepping aside with a polite ‘please, after you, I insist’ wasn’t something anybody was likely to hear. Speaking of steps…

Calmon looked upwards as Maxton pointed. He could hear them now, too. What under the Light were they doing up there? Surely the roof was too think for them to pierce with crossbow bolts. Unless...He raised his own crossbow and began to weave a shield just as a shape appeared in the window. But it wasn’t a weapon, nor even a person. It was a brown, hessian sack - like something one might expect to find wheat or barely stored away in. Confused, Calmon hesitated, holding back his weave. The sack tumbled inside and smouldering herbs poured out in a puff of soot and smoke.

With a horror known only to channelers, Calmon slammed down his shield of Air, covering the smouldering sack to prevent any more smoke from rising. But he was too late. He’d already taken a breath and inhaled some of the fumes. His grip on Saidin wavered but was holding for now. “Forkroot.” Not enough to knock him unconscious, nor even cut them off from the Source but he could feel his strength with Saidin diminish. Light - where had the got a whole sackful of the stuff?

The footsteps were already retreating backwards. Covering his mouth and holding his breath to guard against any lingering fumes, Calmon pointed at Maxton, then the roof, then the back of the train. He himself took off for the front, shouldering open the door at the end of the carriage and barging through into the next one. A mercenary was waiting for him, knife drawn but Calmon had his crossbow at the ready and pulled the trigger without a second thought, catching the man flush in the chest. The Asha’man followed through, smashing the but of the crossbow into the man’s jaw. The merc collapsed, motionless and Calmon bent to pick up the knife he’d dropped, moving further towards the front and finally allowing himself to breath again.

The front carriage door was open. Apparently not knowing how the train worked, the mercs had kept the driver alive but his soot covered assistants were lying face down, both with arrows protruding from their backs. Two mercs stood facing him, half confused, half terrified. They’d clearly worked out by now that their team had stumbled across a pair of off-duty Asha’man but these two seemed to have a plan, if ill-conceived. They stood on opposite sides of the room, as if their separation would somehow save them. Both had crossbows, one had his pointed squarely at Calmon and the other was aiming at the train driver who was shaking violently. “Not another step closer! We’ll shoot! Walk away! Away!” Calmon sighed. In his weakened state, he didn’t trust himself using Air in such a delicate situation and so drew on his strongest of the Five Powers. Fire.

The two crossbows gave a loud crack and the train driver cried out in horror.

But not in pain.

Calmon had snapped the two drawstrings on each of the mercs’ crossbows and the arrows tumbled harmlessly to the ground. The two gave a start and then charged at him, only to tumble without even a cry as Calmon turned the inside of each of their skulls to ash. A weave Calmon had not had to rely on in a long while.

Grim-faced, the Asha’man shut and locked the door behind them and bent to lift the train driver to his feet. “We need to get out of here. I need you to get the train moving again. Do you understand?” The train driver nodded, still shaking.

“Can you...I need to light this boiler.” He pointed at what looked like a furnace.

Calmon steeled himself, Saidin growing more and more slippery as the Forkroot he had inhaled settled in his system. “Here goes nothing.”

The furnace (boiler?) roared to life and the driver pulled a giant lever. The train began to crawl forwards and Calmon opened to door to look down the corridor, wondering at how Maxton was getting on.

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Matty
"The Path of Daggers"
Posts: 964
Joined: December 16th, 2015, 8:19 pm
PC: Murdock Mather, Keeper of the Archives
SC: Nathaniel Carridus, Asha'man (Blue)
TC: Maever Donovan, Asha'man (Yellow)
Location: Plain of Lances, UK

Re: I Choo-Choo-Choose you! (for Macca)

Post by Matty » June 13th, 2018, 11:49 am

Maxton Maxton certainly hadn't expected anyone to realise they had channellers on board and actually do something about it. Even as the sack let out the smoke and he recognised the flavour of it, he had to admit that it was pretty quick thinking on their part - and a very good idea. Well, in theory it was a good idea. Neither man needed Saidin to be a weapon, though their approaches differed slightly. Calmon had a crossbow and a sword; Maxton had his fists.

There was no time to waste. Maxton had a shaky hold on Saidin but he let it go, not wanting to channel and have it give out on him at a critical moment. No, instead he took Calmon's instructions with a nod and stomped to the back, opening the carriage door and waiting a second for someone to drop down from above.

Nobody fell, so Maxton ducked through the door so he was standing between carriages, and with strength rather than finesse he climbed up the carriage so he could peer at the top of the train. There was nobody on his carriage any more, but looking the other way to the back of the train, there was a nimble figure trotting that way. That was all Maxton needed to know, so he dropped back down and continued to the cargo at the back of the train on foot.

Anyone who got in his way received the same treatment as the men before, which is to say a lot of people experienced freefalling that day. After giving the passengers assurance that they were safe, and to lock their doors for the time being, Maxton continued to the back of the train and prepared for the assault that was sure to come. Ah well, better they went for him than Calmon, not that the man couldn't handle himself. After years of activity you simply got better at fighting, and Max rather enjoyed the rough-and-tumble of it all.

Unlike the other coaches, the cargo carriages were completely hollow, all the better to hold pallets of stock. These tall boxes lined the right hand side, and there were a number of smaller ones dotted along the left. There was only one large door in the middle of the carriage, and this was currently open for some reason. Perhaps for their rooftop dancing friend to get in and out? Shaking the grogginess from his head Maxton stepped further in, seeing nobody but anticipating a fight all the same. There had to be some big bad leader they were all answering to, right? But as Maxton explored, he only saw signs of people, not the men themselves. With an irritated grunt he stepped into the next carriage and experienced much of the same.

The third and final cargo carriage was a little different in that the doors were at the back, the full width of the train. Maxton noted the doors were wide open, and at the back there was a small group of men with a small makeshift trolley of sorts. They were piling into it with a few of the smaller boxes, though none of the larger ones because logistics. Upon seeing Maxton the last few men hopped out of the train and onto their getaway vehicle of sorts.

It was at this time that the train slowly began to move forwards. Burn it all! Rotten timing! the man grumped. If he could trust himself to channel it wouldn't have been an issue but as it was, the men were using a pulley system to get away and he wasn't risking getting left behind on a flaming bridge. Looks like they all got away. What was left of them, he thought a little glumly.

"Oh hey guys I was just on the roof and I think they're gonna make the train start... guys? Oh no!" It was the skinny guy who'd thrown the sack of Forkroot at them. He'd just wriggled in through a side window, and when he realised what was going on he tried to slip back out, but Maxton was quicker and he grabbed him by the ankle. "Get off me!"

"Not so flaming fast," Maxton said. "I don't have any live folk left to talk and that's the only reason you ain't going for a swim with your buddies." He pulled the man back in and tossed him over his shoulder with ease. "Looks like Cal got the train going. Let's go say hi to him." He was going to carry the man back but then he saw a small device on the wall, and grinned to himself. An internal communications device. You spoke into one end and they could hear you at the other. This had to lead to the front of the train, right? Maxton took the handle gingerly and held it to his ear as he'd seen someone from the School do, between a thumb and two fingers. Bloody small contraptions. "Cal? Hey, it's Max at the back of the train. Cleared out the stragglers, some of them got away but I do have one here for questioning. Reckon you can come back here and we can look at what this fancy cargo is? Looks like it's from Malkier, given the packaging." Which meant they had to contain something fancy. Malkier was a small regrowing nation but it was a rich source of power-related objects, or just fancy stuff like Malkier-wrought crockery. The crates had locks on them and he was happy to break them open but first they had a little friend to talk to.

As he waited for Calmon, Max found some convenient rope and tied the man to a railing. The train began to pick up speed and they were no longer on the bridge, so he also went to close the back doors. The last thing they needed was for someone (small and bouncy like Calmon) to fall out the back and bounce into oblivion.
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------ Murdock -------------- Nathaniel --------------- Maever -------

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