Isoldus aided as best as he could with the transport of the Kirk family's father, often times carrying the corpse over one powerful shoulder by himself for stretches at a time. All in a day's work. In truth, Isoldus resented the job - a conqueror shouldn't be bothering with such trivial tasks - but he recognized certain tasks must be accomplished for an ultimate reward. And so - Isoldus soldiered on, as he always had. 

The dragonborn brushed off the sand shaking down from the tunnels overhead as they traversed the wastebone. Soon, Isoldus thought as he glanced around the decrepit town, he would be able to bring these citizens from their destitution. They may not recognize his aid as helpful - and some rebellious idiots would need to be quashed, but Isoldus had promised to defend the people of these lands from harm. And dragonkin never forget promises, be it their own or pledged by others. 

One of Isoldus's brow raised at the sight of the train. "This contraption runs?" The dragonborn speaks, almost doubting it would. Dragonborn never adapted to the technology of the waste - perhaps why so few decide to live there. Isoldus was no exception - the traditional feel of a sword and shield always felt more natural to him than the scent of gunpowdered barrels.

Walking behind the group all the way from the church to the Kirk's private train station, Dusty remains silent, not a harmonica nor a word passes his lips.

Merely following in silence, arms crossed, and his near constant amused smile vanished from his face, he follows.

He then regards the train with a sigh and without waiting for the others to collect themselves or even paying attention to their comments, Dusty attempts to embark the train, heading as far to the back of the seating carriage as possible. 

What does the interior look like?

Cormac will begin to look the train over to see if there is any reason why they should he wary about running it. As he does so he mutters to himself in dwarvish. Heslowly goes along the entire length before then casually walking up to the ceiling to look it over from the top.

"Oh, how I've missed seeing wheels on rails... not counting that thing we rode on earlier today," Hugeo exclaims as he observes the train. "Let's get her ready to move!" He'll then walk with Marcus, helping him in whatever's needed to get the train ready as soon as possible.

Stepping into the hindmost car of the train, Dusty finds himself in a cramped dark space. To his left, he sees a rickety old handcar, like the one the party traveled on earlier today, though this one is a little larger, and a bit less fragile looking. To his right, he sees a bizarre contraption that can hardly be called a train. There's barely enough room for a small steam engine and navvy, a seat for a single person, and a very dangerous looking gatling gun. He understands that this must be a bullet — a miniature train used to harry enemies during fights out on the Sands. Traveling onward, he comes across an empty hold, for carrying cargo, and in the car beyond he finds the quarters, which look... serviceable, at the very least. Another door brings him to what he assumes to be the weapons car. To the left and right are two seats, equipped with various levers and switches to control the aim of the two large cannons affixed to either side of the train, as well as a very large and very tempting red button for each of them. A ladder up leads into a strange, small room on top of the train, filled with bizarre arcane equipment and topped with a glass dome. It whirs to life as he approaches, seemingly detecting the magic he carries inside him everywhere he goes. The final car is the engine room and helm, with a section below for the engineer to shovel coal into the firebox and direct the arcane energy which fuels many of the train's apparatuses, a section above for the pilot to sit, directing the train's direction of travel and the operations of the navvy, and a section up and to the back for the captain to recline, giving orders to the rest of the crew through a metal tube next to the seat.

From outside, Cormac notices nothing very special with the hindmost three cars, except that the walls of the end car seem to be capable of raising up, exposing it to the outside, but he very much notices the large guns affixed to the car behind the locomotive, as well as the bizarre glass hump on the top, as well as the unorthodox shape of the locomotive that he has come to understand as traditional for trains in the Waste.

Curiously looking out of where the pilot observes from, Dusty regards the party also looking at the old train, he makes his way back and perches himself on the captain's chair waiting for the one person who he knows will march in to take the seat. 

Looking around he strokes one finger through the dust and dirt letting out a tut of slight disappointment at the state of the train, before crumbling the dirt in his fingers and resigning himself to wait.

Dusty had been around trains like these before during his days working for Urmrik's scavengers, although he never rode out on missions he never resented the dirty pirate like workers who did it. Dusty much preferred the life of the wealthy owners and socialite elite and while reminiscing on this absentmindedly, a pang of hurt and nostalgic loss weighs on him as he merely waits.

The train creaked under the combined weight of the scaled dragonborn and his armor. Isoldus's golden eyes fanned over the train - strange mechanics Isoldus knew little of. Surely, the wastes had promoted technological inventions - tradition, however, held fast in the roots of dragonborn culture. The question of whether to return the wastes to a more traditional land or continue expanding through arcane means was one of the few questions gnawing at Isoldus's mind. 

Regardless, Isoldus calmly headed directly for the captain's corridors. Tactical battle was Isoldus's forte. Leading troops into combat is his mission. The dragonborn's pacing halted as he caught sight of Dusty. Isoldus filled the entirety of the doorframe in red scales and polished armor; these trains clearly weren't meant for the likes of him, though nonetheless, Isoldus addressed Dusty in a measured tone. "I presume you believe yourself to be the captain of this mission?" 

"And I presumed you'd be the first to come charging in here, but alas only one of us were correct, I want a word with you is all." Dusty arches his neck upward trying with difficulty to look past Isoldus' frame in the doorway, anxious not to be heard by the others "please.. close the door, Hear me out"

If Isoldus complies without complaint then Dusty proceeds;

Dusty calms from his small rant and before awaiting a response adds "also thanks for the healing, I could've done it myself but I wanted someone of a more 'devout' persuasion to see to it in case of curse bullshit, Y'know".

Cormac will move to go towards the head of the engine, checking everything over before moving to the guns. He will look them over and use the Mend Cantrip to fix any small damage he comes across.

Winchester, befallen by a sudden rush of torschlusspanic as he watches everyone else board the train one after another, pushes onward to drop off the mayors corpse as quickly as possible. After finally dumping the body in one of the cars, he looks around, almost bursting with excitement. He sees Dusty and Isoldus start duking things out over the role of captain behind closed doors and almost cracks a joke about having misread the tension between the two being that erotic, but ultimately decides to save his innuendos for more fitting situations. Instead, Winchester walks over to the cannons, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He steps up next to Cormac during his inspection of the machinery, but instead of his professional expertise investigating damage, Winchester just seems to lose himself in old memories, as he playfully holds on to the levers used to aim the cannons. Snapping out of the heroics tales happening in his head, he looks around, and then shouts through the train. "Oy, rolecall everyone, lets get this beauty runnin'! Who's doin' what?"

"Guess I'll be steering the thing unless one of you has any experience doing so. I can't say I'm an expert with this, but I have some experience." Hugeo looks around the train for the place meant for the pilot. "Though, if we happen to get into conflict, I'd be more than happy to let someone else steer us while I board the enemy." A grin crosses his face for a moment, remembering the good ol' days. 

The perpetual swish of Isoldus's spined tail slowed as a brow raised in interest following Dusty's words. The Bard wished to talk, apparently. Of something other than assigning the correct person to each individual role of the train's crew. Interesting, and somewhat unexpected. 

One of Isoldus's clawed hands wordlessly slid the door shut. Isoldus rested his polished sword against the door's handle, the dragonborn crossing his arms and placing his back against the frame. Few would be able to push against the bracing of Isoldus's weight and armor against the entry. "Very well, Dusty."

Isoldus's expression remained unchanged during the course of Dusty's speech. Isoldus shared many of Dusty's viewpoints and suspicions - the whole situation reeked of an ambush. Isoldus politely halted for a second as Dusty concluded, ensuring he spoke all he intended to. Isoldus's tone remained manicured, hinting at no signs of emotion or doubt in his words. "I agree with you, Dusty. Your suspicions are shared by me. I never believed this 'M' was an actual entity beyond a lie spun to gather us in one location. At worst, this is an ambush and he intends to dispose of us permanently." Isoldus paused. He stood, locking both scaled palms behind his back, and began to pace around the unfortunately crowded interior of the captain's quarters. "At best, 'M' exists, and we have been led on a strange chase across the land. Either way, we travel, and we learn more of the area, see more of the Baron's minions at work." Isoldus halted, affixing his harrowing gaze over Dusty. "Either way, I am brought closer to my ultimate goal in this realm. My attachment and devotion to guarding the unfortunate souls lost to the sands has brought me into direct conflict with the Baron. I seek to oust him as a ruler - and as I have done in the past, improve the conditions of the people living under my command. I am a leader as much as I am a guardian. And I am confident in my abilities to overcome any resistance the Baron offers - be it luring us into traps or playing his own games with the people he considers pawns. If safety is your concern, you have already confessed each of us holds animosity towards the Baron in one way or another. We have all drawn the Baron's ire. And if you follow me in my quest, support me in my endeavors - you will earn my protection." 

Dusty's thanks earned a simple, curt nod from the dragonborn. "If you are considered a member of my troop, understand you will receive my aid." 

Standing up from the Captain's seat and straightening himself up Dusty nods back to Isoldus, Leaning in close as he moves edging around the towering dragonborn toward the exit, "Being paranoid and jumping to conclusions is how I've stayed alive out here, and so a promise of protection is acceptable, but know that it is an offer I've taken before, an offer which had an expiration date. You also have my aid when needed, I'm aware I asked you to prove your seemingly arrogant claims and you've done as much, however conceited you may come across..."

Dusty takes a breath thinking on his next words "that being said, and I know I'm contradicting myself here, but don't focus too hard on the end goal, I know you wish for the Baron to fall and to take his place, conquering all that gets in your way but don't end up missing the point in the good that you're trying to do, find time to enjoy what you can, there's no point in ruling the sands if there's naught but the worms left to rule. Anyways.. where do you want me? 'Captain' " unable to help himself fill that last remark in dripping sarcasm, Dusty allows his amused smile to once again creep across his lips, the serious and worrying conversation out of the way. He stands now with his back to the door having fully circumvented Isoldus' frame and awaits some form of instruction.

(Is everyone alright if I move things along? We can figure out combat roles in the OOC group chat)

(Cormac is good to move.)

(Same here for Dusty)

(Apologies! This thread must have slipped my notifications.)

Isoldus found himself agreeing with Dusty's words - painstakingly repeating tactics and approaching battles with different tactics to determine the best method of attack was one of Isoldus's strengths. "I would not utter the claims I make if they went unjustified, Dusty. Conceited? Possibly, though I am always capable of supporting my word." 

Any hint of friendliness affected by the dragonborn's tone or posture melted as Dusty continued. Upon meeting his gaze, Isoldus's eyes shone sharper than steel - his shoulders squared and arms folded. "I haven't the time or effort to spare for personal enjoyment. My task supersedes my personal proclivities, and I will not rest until it is complete. I will leave relaxation to the citizens under my command - my duty is foremost to the population, and poor conqueror indeed is one who leaves their domain worse than the ruler they supplanted." The barest hint of a smirk pulled over the dragonborn's snout. "I would not expect a bard to understand. Perhaps that is why musicians rarely amount to more than barside entertainers. Regarding your role on this train?" Dusty, back turned, heard the sound of a large, armored, scaled being soundly coming to rest in the comfort of the captain's chair, "Find a role beyond moral support which suits you best." 

"everyone needs time to relax.. But we shall see" Dusty smiles as he turns his back on the hard headed dragonborn, He then moves to the pilots station and surveys the controls mentally weighing up what it would take to get this train moving and keep it that way.

It takes Dusty/Hugeo(whoever is piloting) a few minutes to familiarize himself with the controls, but soon the pulling of a very large lever that he somehow missed before yields results: the train rumbles to life, a gout of magical flame spitting out and igniting the contents of the engine. White smoke begins to pour out of the top as the white coal within burns, powering all of the train's systems. At the front of the train, a few pieces of scrap metal rise out of the sand and fly towards it, assembling themselves into track. Irene strolls about the front car, observing everyone in action as they prepare for the upcoming journey.

"It'll be about a day's travel from here to Anth'Aur, and after refuelin' there we can make our way to Caiman. If that's the route y'all choose to take, of course, who knows what detours the Sands have waiting for us. Are we all ready?"

"As much as I can be. If we had more time I'd like ta do some more work. This is a bit older then what I worked on in the past bit should be good enough to get us where we need to go." Cormac says as he finishes mending a few spots.