I was assuming Amy got on the train during the 'accident' a couple updates back. It's not that far-fetched, since she's a) an owl, and b) a nosy reporter. I didn't expect she was here with us all along, because someone said the cast had to enter Ace's coupe 'at the same time', and no one mentioned any other passengers (far as I remember), so I didn't think there was another suspect who wasn't introduced to us back then.
My apologies for the lack of clarity. I will note that there have been a couple of passengers mentioned that aren't present, and that the Conductor's presence was not required either. Under normal circumstances I would have liked for this to come up in-story, and I likely would have if I were a better writer, but c'est la vie.
Granted Amy is not the only character mentioned who is not here right now.
Adrainne was mentioned, but she is not here because she finds the whole thing distasteful.
My apologies, I forgot to close the voting last night. Evidently, I can't actually do that, though, as we seem to have a tie.
Voting is extended to 10:00 PM this evening, AEST. If you're reading this thread, please vote. Ties like this hinder our momentum, and the more votes we have the less likely we are to tie.
[X] Lie through your teeth, detective
[X] Traveling back from your sisters wedding (Truth or lie?)
[x] I am somewhat well-versed in the occult (Truth)
[x] Can you confirm Dr. Corpepicker's alibi?
[X] What were you doing at the time of the murder?
[x] Why were you so late to arrive?
Sincerest apologies, dear passengers. Despite our promise to the contrary, it seems the update will be late this week. Lizard Knight has left a hastily scrawled note for me to find, warning me of tragedies to come, and speaking of an urgent undertaking he must complete before he can resume his duties, leaving with a series of ghastly thumps in the early hours of the morning to wander off into the foggy moor.
I, on the other hand, find myself struck low with dreadful illness. Pale and in writhing agony, I write this to you through the haze of hallucinations brought by fever and laudanum. They speak to me, promise that the doctor intends to poison me with these remedies, but I can do nothing for it. I am weak, helpless to his ministrations.
With tremendous sorrow, I am afraid we must wait further for the latest instalment in this accursed production.
"First things first," You say, "Can you confirm Dr. Corpsepicker's alibi?"
"Hmm? Oh yeah, sure," She says, "That's fair. Gotta keep the story straight. Yeah, I was there. You need me to say I left the room for a while or something? 'cus I'm not throwing the Doc under the bus like that. Ace was always great at making sure these things got resolved without anyone gettin' hurt."
The little ball of shiny feathers looks over at the tired, unmoving figure resting by the window.
"I'm gonna miss him." She sighs.
"Well, it isn't like you can't still speak to him." You say, maybe to be comforting, maybe to be cruel, you're not quite sure. Whatever the case, the owl turns her head back towards you and tilts it, puzzled.
"I can't get any kind of read on you," She says, "Some of the time you seem like you know your onions, then suddenly you go and say something like that and you throw me for a loop! Sometimes you seem like you wanna stick in-character for this whole thing, then you go and say 'Enough of this hooey! I'll give it to ya straight up, see if I won't!'"
There's a metallic scratching as she adjusts her grip on her perch, pulling her face closer to yours.
"Well, if we're screeching at each other, it's my turn now. What were you before you got on this train, missy?"
"I'm a detective." You say, keeping your eyes on her shiny black slates.
It seems to throw her for a loop.
"We got the real McCoy this time?" She says, pulling back in shock, then swinging forward like a pendulum on her perch, "I don't think that's ever happened before, not as long as I've been here anyway. You one of the ugly daughters or was it a P.I. thing?"
You remain silent as you try to figure out how to respond to that.
"Don't tell me you were a fed?" She asks, flabbergasted.
"I was a private eye." You say, summoning up scraps of decades worth of detective stories, "Recently I was, anyway. I did spend some time as a police detective, but I found the work too stifling, so I moved to the private sector. Let me set my own hours, choose what cases I wanted to work, and made it far less likely I'd be killed on the job."
Amy's eyes are wider than usual as she furiously scribbles down every bit of bullshit you're feeding her. She almost fumbles her pen once, but manages to recover.
"I can't tell if you being real is gonna be good or bad for ya. Be interesting to see."
She looks up, eyes wild,
"Hey, if you're a real detective, you think you might be able to gimme a hand later? Come to my compartment, there's something I need you to have a vader at."
[New Quest - Meet With Amy]
[Your Relationship With Amy Has Improved]
[X] What were you doing at the time of the murder?
As refreshing as her newfound enthusiasm is, you feel it best to try and stay on target. "I might be able to bring myself to take a look later. In the meantime, I'd suggest we stay on topic and talk about where you were at the time of the murder."
She looks disappointed. "There you go again. Can't make heads or tails of you. I was talking to the Doc, watching him get spifflicated when I heard the scream. Didn't know we were getting a new sharperer until later, then I came flying. It ain't tricky."
A thought seems to occur to her, and her eyes shift to focus on you.
"Oh, I get it. You were tryin' to trip me up, weren't you, Miss Detective? Clever, but it ain't gonna work. My turn again. Tell me what you were up to before you got on the train."
[X] Traveling back from your sister's wedding (Lie)
"I was returning home after my sister's reception." You lie.
The copper-coloured owl looks at you silently for a moment, but writes what you said down, anyway. "Alright, fine. Guess it doesn't really matter anyway."
"You don't believe me?" You ask,
"I can't prove you didn't," She responds with a shrug of her wings. "Like I said, it doesn't really matter. Just thought it might give me a bit of a look at the gal behind the magnifying glass. Turns out she's a wurp, but I already knew that."
You bristle, but don't rise to the insult.
"Anyway, You've got another question to ask me, I bet."
"You're very astute, Miss F'Owler. There is indeed something that has been puzzling me about you. Why is it that you were so late to arrive, and yet so enthusiastic about being a part of this?" You ask, pacing dramatically.
"See, now you're asking the smart questions," trills the owl, "They don't need me for this particular curtain call, see? When the room screams, you need the Doc, the Detective, the Aristocrat, the Corpse, the Suspect, and your ugly daughters over there." She inclines her head towards Constable Barkley.
"I stopped showing up after my third murder. The whole thing's just a great big bull session, anyhoo. It's all just everyone spitting applesauce at each other until the Detective lets us all leave, and I got better things to do with my time."
"Then why show up at all?"
"Because of you. Turns out none of these knuckleheads thought I ought to know Ace had cashed his chips. Only turned up when I found out old Spanny got sent to wherever they send the old corpses, may she rest in peace. Anyway, if Spanny's out, that means Ace is in, and that means a new guy, or a new gal in this case, and that means you. If we've got a new Detective walking around, that means we've got someone outta nowhere who's got our lives in her hands, and that's news everyone on this train has a right to know."
The bird let that settle for a moment before continuing.
"With that in mind, I think we're at my turn now. You seem to know your onions, Miss Rodier," She said, picking up her cheerful tone again after dropping it so suddenly, "How much do you know about all this supernatural baloney?"
[X] I am somewhat well-versed in the occult (Truth)
"I've been known to dabble in the occult in the past. I'm familiar with the basics." You tell the owl, who nods. Pen scratches against paper and she adds it to her notes.
"That's gonna save us some time, at least. How'd you get into the business?"
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say."
Amy pulls her face from her notes and looks up at you. Her big, black eyes look disappointed.
"Really? That's where you put the cap on it?" She says, "Why are you giving me the high hat now of all times?"
She sighs, a trilling sound, closes her notebook, and continues,
"Is this embarrassing to you or something? Is this some great big dark secret? I'm not gonna say nothing from out there's gonna follow you in here, but this is important business. Listen, bearcat, we ain't your enemies, or we don't have to be, anyway. I know you're new to all this, and you're scared, but we're all in this together. If this is something that can help, I'd really like you to tell me."
How do you respond?
[] Tell her a half truth
[] Come clean about your past
[] Add another lie to the pile. Perform lie Jenga.
[] Dismiss her concerns
[] Show her something from your inventory
[] Write-In
The Investigation
[] Speak to Another Passenger
-[] Catpile
-[] Constable Barkley
-[] Someone you've already talked to (who?)
--[] Ask them about their whereabouts at the time of the murder
--[] Ask them about the Train
--[] Ask them about your role
--[] Ask them about the victim, and their relationship
--[] Ask them about another passenger
--[] Ask them about something from your inventory
--[] Ask them something else (Write-In)
[] Dismiss the remaining passengers
-[] Keep [X] under guard in their room
[] Write-In
If you cast your vote for an ambiguous option such as "Ask them about another passenger" or "Show Amy something from your inventory" you will have to define it further, otherwise the vote will not be counted.
----------------------------------------------
We have returned! My illness has passed, and my doctor's strange comings and going were explained by the simple expedient of him being 2 identical twins separated at birth. Anything more than that, I'm afraid I can't disclose as a matter of national security.
Lizard, too, has returned from the errand that took him. I found him returned one day as suddenly as he left, seemingly none the worse for wear. He has since developed a fear of stringed instruments following his return, and has been caught muttering about some sort of devilish orchestra, but I thought it polite not to pry.
Adhoc vote count started by Mr BreaksIt on Nov 9, 2018 at 7:58 PM, finished with 2 posts and 2 votes.
[x] Give her your backstory as a writer.
-[x] Do not confirm which one of them is actually true.
[x] Speak to Another Passenger
-[x] Catpile
Well... at least Amy thinks we are a proper detective now. Maybe if we can convince the others, we'll convince the Benefactor as well.
[x] Give her your backstory as a writer.
-[x] Do not confirm which one of them is actually true.
She says she can't figure us out. Give her something to ponder.
[x] Speak to Another Passenger
-[x] Catpile
I guess, going purely by the method of elimination, they are the Aristocrat? Schemers and deceivers, the lot of them! We'll have to stay sharp and restrain ourselves from petting the felines!
The broad meaning of what she is saying is clear: the last corspe bit it, Ace replaced them, and we replaced Ace. But why did she use this particuklar wording? Isn't 'retirement' supposed to be a bad thing?
A small mistake on my part, I didn't mention when the vote was closing. Come tonight at 10:00PM AEST, we will no longer be accepting votes for the next chapter.
Thanking both of you for your votes, the next course of action should be obvious.
[x] Give her your backstory as a writer.
-[x] Do not confirm which one of them is actually true.
[x] Speak to Another Passenger
-[x] Catpile
You're silent for some time, making some effort to figure out how to explain this. A clock inset to the wall ticks as time passes, but the ticks don't seem to quite align to seconds. Are they too fast or too slow?
Eventually, you start speaking again.
"Picture a small room, lit by a light that doesn't light and entered by a door with no other side. Like this one, there is gilding, a pretension of glamour, but it is more spartan than this one. There is a desk there, and a bookcase, and the carpet is a tessellating pattern of brown flowers. Behind this desk sits a man. In front of it, a woman. Marie Rodier, an aspiring writer. The man is her new publisher. She has been writing now for over a decade now and is yet to pick up a regular place on a publishing house's roster or even a recurring place in a magazine. The man across the desk promises he will change all that. He promises he knows secrets about this work that will guarantee a profit for both of them. He says that he knows what stories want, and what they expect in return, and he is very good at making those bargains."
The train is absolutely silent as you speak, the sound of the engine and the clock have both faded into nothingness.
"Rodier signs a contract in 6 places without reading it. Her new publisher smiles and tells her he'll make sure her new book is on shelves and off again within a week.
He is good to his word.
It wasn't her best work, but it sold better than anything she had ever written. She asks him how he managed it, and he says he'll tell her, provided she keeps writing for him."
You look into the shiny black slates that fill the sockets of the enraptured owl.
"He is good to his word." You finish.
The astounded reporter collects herself after a moment. Her beak starts moving before it looks like her brain has caught up.
"Hey, how about you slow down with all that bunkum, alright? You just told me you were a detective! One with a pretty darn full career at that! How come you're talking about being a writer now? And what's with the third person? Is Marie even your real name?"
"That," You say, "sounds like an excellent case for our intrepid reporter to pursue."
Before she can respond, you pull yourself to your full height and turn your attention to the pile of cats. The train begins to rattle again as you walk away.
The pile of cats has reformed somewhat, but her dress still lies languidly across the cot while the cats shift around inside it. A slightly squashed ball of apparently sleeping cats has coalesced to recreate a head with a white Persian slotted neatly into the position of roughly where you would expect the mouth to go. You can't tell if she is awake or asleep, as some of her seems to ascribe to one state, some of her the other. Nevertheless, you kneel down to bring yourself to eye-level with her supine form.
"Your pardon, miss, I require a moment of your time." You say.
The cats making her form quiver and stretch, briefly turning her dress into a roiling sea before its occupants settle.
"Well, you certainly took your time, darling. You know it's terribly impolite to keep a lady waiting." Says the Persian, who has evidently taken on the role of speaker for now.
"My apologies." You respond,
"It's quite alright, Miss Rodier, but do try to keep in mind for the future. I am certain Mr Cold would have had me back in my quarters by now. He usually had Barkley take me there after I collapsed, of course. Entirely no need to keep us all cooped up in here the whole time."
There was an unnerving shifting as the dress righted itself, rolling up from its position like a windsock straightening as the cats within push and shove and climb atop each other.
"Ah, but you're new to it all, of course. You'll learn with time. You'll have to, in fact."
"Quite so. All the same, I would like to ask you some questions, Miss…"
"Catherine, my dear Detective, Her Honour, the Duchess of Saint Brendan's Island, Lady Catherine A. Person, LT, FBA, KPFSM, and as unorthodox as it is to be interviewed at the crime scene, I must say I am utterly charmed."
She daintily extends a calico to you. She seems to be waiting for something.
How do you respond to the calico?
[] Kiss it
[] Shake it
[] Ignore it
[] Write-In
What do you ask Catherine about?
[] Her whereabouts at the time of the murder
[] Her delicate constitution
[] About something from your inventory (what?)
[] About the Victim
[] About her relationship with the Victim
[] Who would want to hurt the Victim
[] Her role
[] The Midnight Transarcadian
[] Whoever is in charge
[] Write-In
What do you do afterwards?
[] Speak with Barkley
[] Speak with someone you have already spoken to
-[] Who?
[] Dismiss the assembled suspects
-[] Except for one (who?)
-[] And stay to speak with Ace
-[] And return to your quarters
-[] Write-In
[] Write-In
Voting is closed Friday at 10:00 PM AEST. As always, I deeply appreciate any and all submissions, but there is a special place in my heart for particularly specific submissions. Do not hesitate to vote, no matter how extensive or limited you would like to be!
Adhoc vote count started by Mr BreaksIt on Nov 16, 2018 at 7:20 AM, finished with 2 posts and 2 votes.
[x] Kiss it
[x] Her delicate constitution
[x] About the Victim
[x] Who would want to hurt the Victim
[x] The Midnight Transarcadian
[x] Dismiss the assembled suspects
-[x] And stay to speak with Ace
The man across the desk promises he will change all that. He promises he knows secrets about this work that will guarantee a profit for both of them. He says that he knows what stories want, and what they expect in return, and he is very good at making those bargains."
He knows what stories want, eh? Did he mean the readers, or does he really talk about them as if they were alive? Is this the deal with the devil we've made?
...I don't even know what half of these abbreviations mean. King's Police and Fire Services Medal? Why?
[x] Kiss it
[x] Her delicate constitution
[x] About the Victim
[x] Who would want to hurt the Victim
[x] The Midnight Transarcadian
[x] Dismiss the assembled suspects
-[x] And stay to speak with Ace
Or maybe talk to Barkley? Can we talk to Barkley afterwards, even after dismissing them? He's a constable, so he should not refuse our inquiries that intend to bring the murderer to justice!
Voting is now closed. As is tradition, we seem to be going with Plan Nevill, to wit:
[x] Kiss it
[x] Her delicate constitution
[x] About the Victim
[x] Who would want to hurt the Victim
[x] The Midnight Transarcadian
[x] Dismiss the assembled suspects
-[x] And stay to speak with Ace
Your lips hover just above the calico for a moment before Catherine takes her hand back. The spotted cat swipes half-heartedly at you as it is withdrawn.
"It is an honour to meet you, Lady St. Brendan's." You say, returning to a standing position.
"You are a delightful one, Detective." The collection of cats responds, "It appears as though I'll save time on teaching you the proper etiquette."
[Your relationship with Catherine has improved.]
"On to business now I suppose, Detective? I'd normally try to have tea and cakes brought out so as to keep things civilised, but the culinary staff are so terribly unreliable with all their 'Beasts of England' nonsense, and of course, I had no time at all to prepare, so I'm afraid we will have to make do without. Come, take a seat on the cot." The pile and dress shift to the right, offering room which you graciously accept.
"Now what is it you wish to speak with me about, Detective?"
Her question hits just before you'd managed to make yourself comfortable, and you suspect that may have been the point.
"To begin with, I'll be calling attention to your reaction when you saw the deceased. You seem to have a delicate constitution. Or you did, rather. You seem almost bored right now."
"Oh, I am no such thing, Detective! I assure you, I find your conversation exceptionally enthralling!" She brought a sleeve up to the clump of cats that you have begun thinking of as her face, scandalised, "It is simply a matter of, how did you say it, Detective? My 'delicate constitution'? Being forced to remain in such close proximity to such a ghastly scene, why, it's positively draining! I'm sure I can't imagine how much more my poor hearts can take!"
The cats crash in a dramatic wave against the wall behind them, the calico in the sleeve grips tight to the face cats as the whole collective swoons.
"Oh, it's dreadful, darling! Truly dreadful! But I will soldier on if I must! For the sake of the poor, departed Mr Cold."
"The victim does seem to have mustered quite a following. What can you tell me about Mr Cold?" You ask.
"A delightful gentleman," she says, "struck down in his prime. Such a kind soul, such dedication, the Midnight Transarcadian will be much the poorer for his passing. He was a Detective, like you, and so terribly considerate. That someone would do this to him, why, it is entirely beyond the pale!"
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Lady Catherine. Do you know of anywhere in particular he liked to spend his time? Or perhaps frequent acquaintances?"
"The bird was a frequent companion of his. The smaller one, Miss F'owler. The two of them proved quite inseparable. He was also a frequent correspondent of Mr Redherring, but I'm afraid I'm not terribly sure of the nature of their relationship. They did seem to quite enjoy their conversations, but they could also be adversarial at times."
The bundle of cats leans towards you, astoundingly stable for what must have been a tower of cats clinging desperately to each other.
"It doesn't do to gossip about the dead, of course, certainly not when they are in the room, but our dear departed Mr Cold was rather fond of the dram." She whispered, conspiratorially.
"He was often found in the dining car for that purpose."
You commit that to memory and nod.
"So," You say, gathering your thoughts "Now that we have discussed the late Mr Cold's previous…"
You look over at the corpse in question, who is still smoking a cigarette and seemingly talking to the owl.
"Or possibly current relationships, do you believe either of these people would have had a reason to harm the previous detective?"
Catherine shrugs, the pile of feline bodies jittering just out of sync with the bumps in the track below for just a moment, and then the Persian's mouth opens, "Now, Detective, this is hardly the time or place to throw accusations around." Her voice is dozens of trills and yelps that somehow mix together into a refined Queen's English. It's subtle, not something anyone could be expected to notice in passing, but impossible to ignore in extended conversation.
"It's hardly an accusation. I'm merely trying to align the facts within my head, so if, for example, Mr Cold had done something to draw the ire of one of his companions, and they had, perhaps, offered you something…" You trail off, hoping that Catherine would attempt to correct you. She does not.
"I must say, I appreciate your ambition, Detective, it's absolutely refreshing to be speaking with someone so willing to take on a verbal opponent so far above them. I've no intention of hiding anything from you, darling, but now simply is not the time." Says Catherine, breaking the relative silence.
"It would delight me to no end were you to come by my coupe later this evening. We can continue this discussion there, in a more comfortable setting."
You cough and nod, appropriately chastised.
"Alright, then. Later." You say, "In the meantime, can you tell me anything about the train itself?"
"Well, I hardly think it matters to the course of the investigation. It's not as if the late Mr Cold, God rest him, was run over now, was he? No, I'm afraid I simply don't understand what you're asking here, Detective."
The cat pile shuffle uncomfortably then seems to melt away entirely as the cats retreat into the dress, only to rearrange and return to the surface. Neither the Persian nor the Calico from before is anywhere to be seen, presumably now hidden by the dress.
"It's elementary. The train is the crime scene, beyond the room itself. I must know of any peculiarities you've noticed in your time as a passenger if I am to solve this to my satisfaction." You say, doing your best to remain upright and proper. Truth be told, the detective act was quickly becoming draining.
"I'm afraid I've noticed no such things, beyond a peculiarly well-stocked dining car. As well as the parlour, of course. Very few trains have a parlour in my experience." She responds. The movement of the cats that make up her form is slowing, and various tails have begun to twitch.
"Other than that. You can't expect me to believe you've not noticed anything else out of the ordinary on this train, you're aware of something you're not letting on, Your Grace." You say, standing to bring yourself to a higher level than your erstwhile adversary.
"I have simply no idea what you're talking about." Responds Catherine. Not to be outdone, she stands too, or does an approximation of it. She thins herself out so that there are as few cats as possible taking her weight, bringing herself to an impressive, if precarious, height above you.
"This train seems remarkable only in its quality, and if there were any peculiarities at all regarding our accommodations, it would suit me best not to discuss them here."
Her teetering form bends towards you, the single hunched cat that now comprises the entirety of her head inches from your face.
"Now dismiss us and let us leave."
You were about done talking with the assembled passengers, anyway, and you were certainly done looking at that.
"Very well." You turn around to address the room, as well as to face away from the feline stick figure behind you.
"All of you may now return to your quarters. You may wander the train freely, but any attempt to leave I will take as proof of your guilt. Constable Barkley, if you would please escort the passengers from the room."
The tree rustles as it slowly shrinks back through the door, and the passengers follow. Redherring and Catherine lead the charge, while F'Owler takes the time to take one last photo of the crime scene before being escorted out. You are now alone in the room with the living corpse, and you collapse back onto the cot.
"It starts rough, but you kinda get used to it." Says Ace, still reclined, arm hanging loose. "Or at least you get complacent. I dunno. Need to talk about it?"
Talk to Ace about? (Pick two)
[] What am I doing?
[] Be honest with me ace, am I going to die?
[] What were you doing at the crime scene, mr.Cold?
[] So, anyone that would want to do you in?
[] Amy seemed...nice
[] Can you tell me about the train?
[] What is the layout? Where do who live in the train?
[] write in
What next?
[] Go to your room
[] Go to the middle room, between your and ace's
[] Go to the next cart, past your door.
[] Go to the next cart, part ace's door.
[] Mess with the trash can
[] Write in
Chapter 11. This one was difficult to write. Due to this being delivered late Saturday, I'm giving an extra day for votes to be cast to account for the lack of activity on Sundays. Voting will close Tuesday at 10:00 PM AEST.
Adhoc vote count started by Mr BreaksIt on Nov 27, 2018 at 7:02 AM, finished with 2 posts and 2 votes.
[x] Amy said you resolved previous cases without anyone getting hurt. How did you do that?
[x] What is the layout? Where do who live in the train?
[x] Go to your room
"I have simply no idea what you're talking about." Responds Catherine. Not to be outdone, she stands too, or does an approximation of it. She thins herself out so that there are as few cats as possible taking her weight, bringing herself to an impressive, if precarious, height above you.
That was... disconcerting. Also quite funny. I wonder what happens if we make her straighten up further than that.
Maybe her 'poor constitution' means that any stressful activity results in the pile of cats crashing down in one big furry heap.
[x] Amy said you resolved previous cases without anyone getting hurt. How did you do that?
[x] What is the layout? Where do who live in the train?
Remind me how it works, please. What affects the difficulty of a roll?
The only thing I remember is that in most cases we want to roll higher than 9.
...a more difficult roll seems to imply that perhaps there is something down this line of investigation... Hmm.
And that's all she wrote. Voting is now closed and, as is our grand tradition, our next course of action will be posted below:
[x] Amy said you resolved previous cases without anyone getting hurt. How did you do that?
[x] What is the layout? Where do who live in the train?
[x] Go to your room
You sigh and sit next to Ace. After thinking about it, you reach out your hand and ask "Can I get a cigarette?" Ace blinks over the course of a full second.
"Sure." He says, "You didn't strike me as the smoking type."
"I wasn't, but I'm a detective now, so I guess I have to pick it up."
Ace laughs at that, but takes another drag and doesn't make any move to offer you the package. You sit there in companionable silent for a moment, until you break it again. "Ace," you begin, "Amy said you were able to resolve cases in the past without getting anyone hurt. How did you pull that off?"
He stares off into space. He seems to do that a lot.
Finally, he rasps out "Not sure if I can tell you that. I'd love to, don't get me wrong, but the man in charge doesn't like repeats. I'm dead, and dead men tell no tales." He breathes out. "And if there's one thing He's good at, it's cliches."
You take a moment, then chance a smile "Well, who says this is a normal detective story? Maybe I am a paranormal detective and I solve crimes by talking to corpses."
You both sit in silence, bathed in the non-light of the oil lamps hung on the wall. Beneath you, you hear the soft rumbling of the train.
Ace opens his mouth to speak, then seems to think better of it. He looks apologetic.
"I shouldn't give away too much. All I can really say is 'be creative.' He hates it when we try to pull the same trick twice, and He'd hate it even more if I just gave away the ending right now. Try the others if you want, at least they're speaking parts."
You nod and lean forward with a sigh, letting the room fall back into the almost-silence. Eventually, you manage the willpower to breathe life back into the dead air.
"So is there anything at all you can help me with?" You ask, dejected. Ace seems to ponder the question for a moment before replying.
"Well," he croaks "You're in a train. This is passenger car three, out of five passenger cars."
There is a soft sigh, as if the effort of talking is draining to him.
"This is the one in the middle. Going past the murder ro- No, your room now. Three-dash-three. Going past that you'll find cars four and five, then the luggage cars. Two of them, just junk storage." He moves his arm upwards with the pace of a snail in a lazy dismissive gesture.
"Four is the Doc and Ames, Five are the Constables and the cartoon. Leave the car on this side, three-dash-one, you'll get the other two passenger carts. Diedrick and Ariadne are in two, they keep to themselves unless there's an accusation. Catherine and..."
He makes a noise that would take years of practise, decades of cigarettes, and about a week's recovery from tracheal surgery to make yourself,
"... Are in the first car. God, give me a minute." He takes a long, slow drag and stops breathing for a long time. It becomes ever more apparent that you are, in fact, sitting in a train car with a corpse.
"Okay. Keep going and there's lounge, dining, kitchen, locomotive. You're allowed in the kitchen with the Chef, no-one else is. No access to the locomotive." He finishes with the sort of sigh you associate with early mornings and late nights on the same day and leans back into the cot. With noticeable difficulty, he reaches a hand towards you. It is cold, and clammy, and about what you'd expect.
[Your Familiarity with Ace increased.]
Letting his arm collapse neatly next to him, you are left holding what he passed to you. A shiny, twelve-sided Canadian nickel. It doesn't seem new as much as it seems well-polished.
"Put that in a lamp so it reflects the light back at the flame. I'm so tired, Marie. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you got caught up in this, but there's not much I can do. Just take your time, you've got a bit of grace before He decides you need to do something exciting. In the meantime, would you mind just sitting here for a while?"
You do. It's not pleasant, but it's a blessing to have a break from freaking out. Ace is silent and motionless, but you get the impression he is thinking something similar.
[Your Relationship with Ace increased.]
After time has past, you're not sure how long, you can't make out the clock in the low light, you stand up and leave. Ace doesn't object. There is moonlight streaming through the windows, two of the windows to be precise - the one illuminating your door and the one illuminating Ace's. The rest are dark. Outside is that same scene of the rocky moonlit lake you saw when you first entered God knows how long ago now. It can't have been more than a few hours, could it? It feels strange.
After what seems like an age, you manage to take the 14 steps to your own door and step through to the normal-looking compartment and the mercifully altruistic lantern. You don't feel any safer here than you did in the room with the corpse, but there is a cot here too. You sit down and your mind rapidly flits through thoughts of what had just happened and where to go from here.
What do you do in your compartment?
[] Read the other letter
[] Mess with the bin
[] Write-In
[] Take a moment to calm down and think things through
Do you:
[] Try to get some sleep
[] Explore the train more
- Where do you go?
-[] Visit someone in the other passenger cars?
- - [] Amy
- - [] Doctor Corpsepicker
- - [] Redherring
- - [] Someone you haven't met (who?)
- [] Explore the luggage cars
- [] Explore the auxillary cars
- - [] Lounge
- - [] Dining
- - [] Kitchen
- [] Try to break into the engine room
- [] Write-In
- [] Write-In
Adhoc vote count started by Mr BreaksIt on Dec 15, 2018 at 7:08 AM, finished with 4 posts and 3 votes.
[x] Read the other letter
[x] Explore the train more
- [x] Explore the auxillary cars
- - [x] Lounge
"Not at all," Says Ace, "You'll just be better off than if you'd tried to fight it. You're still stuck here, you can still get hurt and He's not gonna do much about that, and no-one can keep Him entertained forever. Talk with Ariadne when you get the chance, next car to the front. She's lost count of all the Detectives she's seen pass through. Or the Conductor, if you don't mind going Quisling."
[X] Read the other letter
[X] Explore the train more
-[X] Visit someone in the other passenger cars?
- - [X] Redherring
I'm torn between Redherring and Amy. They were the most prominent friends of the deceased, so teaming up with them to solve the case seems like a good narrative.
I'm going with Redherring for novelty in the hopes of entertaining the Benefactor. I also want to let Amy stew a bit on our parting words.
