first log - open
Who: jaytodd , and anyone in the street at that time
When: afternoon of Monday 3rd
Where: the streets, from the Outlander community block to the library
Format: paragraph.
What: Jason's looking for answers - and alternatively, for food and people to beat up.
Warnings: probably for language.
Fifty dollars had an exchange rate of a miserable handful of ivories, it seemed. It was probable the loan shark had fucked with Jason, too. That wasn't his more immediate problem though.
He had spend the previous day, once the guy with the flat voice had linked him to it, browsing the info dump, then going back through the entries and generally making the most of the Forge, handy device that it was. Oracle would have had a field day with something like this, and the network behind.
That wasn't what he needed to think about.
So everyone was saying the Gate was a one-way ticket, but people, no, Scorched generally disappeared left and right and the others hoped they had gone back home. No word on the natives. That he had been brought here by this gate and not through acts of caped assholes was looking to be more and more probable. But it didn't change the end goal. He needed to get back to Gotham.
He hadn't enough informations. He was getting restless, the Outlander community block's appartment too small for his taste. Prison wasn't that far away. He was hungry, too. That called for street food -were things even edible here?- and library.
He left the room, all his possessions in his pockets, limping.
With any luck, there would be one or two shitheads on the way for him to bash.
When: afternoon of Monday 3rd
Where: the streets, from the Outlander community block to the library
Format: paragraph.
What: Jason's looking for answers - and alternatively, for food and people to beat up.
Warnings: probably for language.
Fifty dollars had an exchange rate of a miserable handful of ivories, it seemed. It was probable the loan shark had fucked with Jason, too. That wasn't his more immediate problem though.
He had spend the previous day, once the guy with the flat voice had linked him to it, browsing the info dump, then going back through the entries and generally making the most of the Forge, handy device that it was. Oracle would have had a field day with something like this, and the network behind.
That wasn't what he needed to think about.
So everyone was saying the Gate was a one-way ticket, but people, no, Scorched generally disappeared left and right and the others hoped they had gone back home. No word on the natives. That he had been brought here by this gate and not through acts of caped assholes was looking to be more and more probable. But it didn't change the end goal. He needed to get back to Gotham.
He hadn't enough informations. He was getting restless, the Outlander community block's appartment too small for his taste. Prison wasn't that far away. He was hungry, too. That called for street food -were things even edible here?- and library.
He left the room, all his possessions in his pockets, limping.
With any luck, there would be one or two shitheads on the way for him to bash.