Mokley — Roleplayer Guild

Rhea [looked] over her shoulder to a handcart that had a medium trunk loaded with a couple spare changes of clothes, some books, a small variety of potted coffee grains as well as other brewing utensils and implements. Along with it the larger trunk there was also a waterproof suitcase loaded with more delicate personal belongings, traveling funds, any necessary documentation and other minor things that Rhea couldn't risk losing so easily.
Cookie: x 1
Carefully loading his luggage onto the vehicle, [Johan] took the seat directly across from someone he recognized immediately: Rhea Heimlich, bookstore owner and fellow resident of Comet-by-the-Sea.
Cookie: x1
Ms Branwen puffed a few stray coils of rufous hair off of her round glasses and gave an indignant stare to the drop gate. "This blasted gate ought to be broken if it spit me out like that!" Rose cursed as she clung tightly to her stiff medical case in a bowlegged posture, "Fetch me that chair quick before I loose my grip!"
Cookie: no cookie
Lian seemed to have no luggage of her own. Perhaps she didn't own any, or perhaps she simply didn't care.
Cookie: x2
Finding the wagon to be filling up, Alice stepped in and took a seat close to the initial entry way of the wagon’s backside. Placing her suitcase to rest in her lap, Alice waited for either the wagon to start or more arrivals to show up.
Cookie: no cookie
Andrea dropped her case and bag to the side, and hurriedly fetched a chair she noticed, rolling it over as fast and neatly as she could, careful not to crush toes or possessions. "Pardon but do you need assistance?" She bent her small frame to reveal as much of herself as possible from behind the chair.
Cookie: no cookie
[Trilune's] slim body didn't seem to have much of a problem with the limited space inside the wagon, especially since her tools and gadgets were stuffed in the forest green jacket. She had to admit that it was cramped. Plus, they still had to carry the woman with luggage.
Cookie: x1
Then after seeing all the group [Jacky] turned back to the one with the funny ears and sat on her other side opposite 'tardy lady'.  He named her already in his mind. 
Cookie: no cookie
"HEY! This is the Wagon to Riffraff, right?" [Jenna] called out before noticing the gatekeeper Hedra; to whom she waived just as excitedly to and grinned as she passed to include herself with the rest of the new applicants.
Cookie: no cookie

"Oh my goodness! Oh dear, ah . . . oh dear!" Hedra stammered, her gray hair afly, swinging the cookie-tray to and fro, looking for help for Ms Branwen. She only remembered that it was her duty to fetch the wheelchair after Andrea rushed to retrieve it first. Hedra blinked her aged eyes. She could swear Andrea looked pretty as a porcelain doll. There was something stiff about her -- altogether not-human, actually. It must be a trick of the light, she convinced herself. By the time Trilune stepped through, she was ready again with her bubbly greeting -- though she kept a sidelong attention on Ms Branwen's plight.

Meanwhile, the cart-driver had dropped down from his seat to assist in the loading of luggage -- most of which belonged to Rhea.

While Andrea wheeled Ms Branwen to the cart, the cart-driver picked up Ms Branwen's luggage and Andrea's bag and case and added them to the stacks. When all the luggage and passengers had been loaded, there was no longer anywhere for anyone to put down their feet; all of the floor space of the wagon was taken up entirely with luggage.

The wagon-driver clambered up the back end of the wagon to help lift Ms Branwen onboard with rough bony hands, and to find her a place to sit where she wouldn't fall out. The entire time he never said a syllable, nor made any noise. His dull, sleepy eyes cast over each of them, sometimes raising a bushy red eyebrow when he noticed wings and odd-colored eyes and a little dragon-thing and a lady who appeared to be talking out of a doll head -- he stared without a word until each of them showed him their identification cards. Once satisfied he had no stowaways, he dropped to the ground and locked up the tailgate with a sharp and final clack. He strode, bow-legged, back to the driver's seat.

Back at the drop-gate, Hedra's voice chirped once again: "Hello! Welcome to Timber Moren! I'm Hedra, your gatekeeper for the -- oh!" The newest visitor had simply grabbed a cookie on his way to the wagon, without so much as a glance or a hello. Rook was a man built like a tree, with short black hair and olive skin, a sword at one hip and a pistol at the other, a worn bag over one shoulder. With long strides, Rook made his way to the wagon, flashed his identification card for the driver, and hopped up onto the tailgate to sit with his back to the rest of the passengers. He hadn't so much as acknowledged their existence.

At noon exactly, the driver whistled. With a lurch, the wagon started moving.

The city of Timber Moren shifted lazily past, the buildings less frequent as they went, until the sunlight dimmed behind the close darkness of the pine forest. The air was thick with the sappy aroma of the trees, and the driver sometimes ducked under overhanging needly branches. The ride was long and bumpy, over two hours of tilting and jolting and rumbling along the poorly maintained road. The heavy luggage shifted constantly, sliding this way and that, threatening to crush the legs of anyone brave enough to put their feet on the floor.

Finally, after a ride that seemed like an eternity, a house came into view. Then two houses. Then, after a twist in the road, rows of buildings stood along each side of the path: a general store, a pub, an open marketplace with two food-stalls, a town hall.

The village was shut up tight. No one was outside. The windows were locked, the blinds closed.

The cart creaked to a stop in front of a squat, two-story slatted house with a wide front porch hung with bright flowers. They would soon discover that this was the village inn, though it was little more than an old woman's house with too many rooms. The wagon-driver unlocked the tailgate and began to help out the passengers, then silently dragged their luggage out onto the ground. Rook had immediately moved far out of the way, to stand at the side of the road, silent, with his bag over his shoulder.

On the porch stood a prim, slightly overweight, straight-postured man of middle-age, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't move an inch, but waited until most of the wagon's passengers had disembarked before he spoke in a staccatoed voice. "Welcome, representatives of Tin Dragon. I am Mayor Casworon Toll. I'm sure you've been briefed on the reason you've been summoned. Please, right this way; the entirety of the upper floor has been reserved for your stay, though some of you may have to share a room. A light supper has been prepared for you in the dining room. I beseech you, though, to begin your investigation as quickly as possible." His mouth twitched -- maybe a hint of emotion, but quickly controlled.

@deadpixel101@KoL@Greenie@TheWindel@DepressedSoviet@Gareth@Ruthenselle@Ms Ravenwinter@Mimik
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