Timed Misery (1800's Supernatural Mystery Adventure, Closed Game Thread)

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Shadowstar38:

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November 21, 18XX, Early Morning. Weather Clear/Chilly. 31 Days till Soltstice

Aboard the Passenger Car heading to Harkstead...

The early morning light seeps through the glass windows of the metal and wood, to the left still in sight is a mountain range looking ominous and strange, while to the right is open land, small towns, and the ocean in the distance.
With every shudder and creak, it seems like the car will fall apart, and is only held together by will and Newtons First Law.

Around 15 people sit facing one another on benches of two by two, their luggage and visible arms stored in a car behind them

Front of the Train Car
2 Other sets of seats.
---------------------------------------
(John)(Empty)----(Empty)(Bertram)
(facing-------------------------------
(Jacky)(Empty)----(Empty)(Rich. B)
---------------------------------------------------
(Lucrece)(Emtpy)----(Empty)(Rich. M.)->Benches
(Facing--------------------------Facing)->Direction Facing=One set of seats.
(Warren)(Empty)----(Empty)(Donal)->Benches
Back of the Train Car

Warren sits across from Lucrece on the left side, to their right is Donal and Richard M. in the back set of seats. (Each of you have a bench to yourselves in other words)

In the next set of seats are Richard B. and Bertram on the right, with Jacky on left, with Maho

Jacqueline-On the train headed for Harkstead

Jacqueline hadn't slept well, the train was rickety and felt like it would fall apart when it went around corners and down steep hills. She had dreamt that she had found the treasure she was seeking in Harkstead, but every time she reached out to grab it, her fingers would brush against it lightly then fall further away from her grasp.

She had snuck onto the train the night before when it had stopped to take on more coal and quickly found one if the emptier carriages. The brute opposite her had been asleep at the time, he still was. She theorised that he was going to Harkstead looking for job, she hard heard from the porters that the was no difficulty in finding work there. The tunnel always needed more men, more men to quicken the pace and some would inevitably die from rock slides.

She leant back against her chair to try to enjoy the view out of the window, but she hated it when she faced backwards on the train, seeing where you would never go and not knowing anything about the destination until you got there.

Warren. On the train headed for Harkstead

Warren sat erect in his seat with his eyes peering out the window. The morning light illuminated the grassy open lands. Seeing the sun rise on this day filled Warren with a small once of hope in his troubled time. He sneaked a peak at his fellow passengers every so often. A few of them looked like rather unsavory characters. In older days, he would never be sharing a standard passenger car with commoners.

Warren looked down at his feet and shook his head to remove the thought. He couldn't think like a nobleman anymore. This would be his life for the mean time. He removed his watch from his pocket and clicked it open. He still had a while to go before he reached his destination. Warren rested his eyes and relaxed to get a few more minutes of rest before he arrived.

Soon he'd be back to doing with he always loved. The sounds of machinery at work was the only thing in Warren's mind at the moment. And it slowly put him back in a state of bliss.

Morrison on the train

Richard was excited, something of an actual challenge had presented itself and those who would be accompanying him on this adventure seemed to be surrounded him, though perhaps some would leave he hoped at least a few would stay. He had moved to the side, away from the window to begin asking a few questions and regretted it. He liked windows, aside from what he could see outside there was only seats and iron floors. Still, despite himself, he surveyed the group.

Only one of the people on the train near him ever caught his eye, a woman dressed in British male clothing. While he never had a serious dislike for those who lived in slums, there was always the issue of him bringing all his money in one case and she looked the part of a thief. His years of experience told him to keep an extra eye on her, just in case. On the other hand and her polar opposite, was the lady sitting in the seat next to Morrison.

This woman was astonishingly beautiful. She had the distinct feel of a French noblewoman and seemed to act the part. She was quite a ways more worried looking when she got on the train, though once she had sat down, the lady calmed a bit. Richard had always had that effect on people, he never knew why, but took it as it was. The French woman was a bit overdone for Richard and he was beside himself if he should talk to her. Women hardly ever had any useful information regarding anything, but he seemed to be at a stand still, considering most would not appreciate him getting up to talk to them. Richard decided to strike a conversation.

"I suppose someone like you is coming to this town not by her own choice? Very few Aristocrats such as yourself would ever consider coming to America, let alone this town. What have you heard about it, if I may query?" To be honest, all Morrison knew was that something was happening and that nobody was trying to solve it.

Richard B. on the train

This was not how Richard wanted to travel, if he wasn't so desperate to flee he would have waited for a later train, but his desire to put as much space between him and his mistakes forced him to sit in this mockery of a train. He glanced up from his newspaper to observe the people around him. Opposite he saw a large man. Perhaps 6 foot 3 maybe 6 foot 4. He quickly scanned him for any noticeable features. Physically well built, scarring around his right eye. He looked at the man again before extending his arm to offer a hand shake and saying
"Pleasure to meet you I am Dr Beakon. Say do you happen to have a cigarette."

Donal - On the train headed for Harkstead

Donal leans his head upon the window, his eyes looking straight into the horizon. No thoughts pass through his mind. He hopes it shall stay that way.

Leaving for Harkstead was a serious gamble, one that would pay off well or leave him overstocked. To many the trip would not seem worth the effort. Safeguarding a thousand dollars worth in bone and fur from the dangerous game stalking the Rockies, and a thousand more in tools and carvings traded from the Kalispel, the Spokane, the Nez Perce, more tribes and trappers than he can ever hope to keep track of. Dragging it all two thousand miles in a wagon from one end of the continent to the other. Loading it all onto a train and praying to God in Heaven it will not derail. All has gone well so far. He would make a killing selling to the masses in the East.

Who would want any of this junk?

Donal catches himself thinking again. Thinking only leads to stress, and stress is not what he needs. He reminds himself of what his father told him. Go out, and fate will settle itself.

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

From the price of the tickets, she had expected luxury and this train was far from luxurious, and the rest of the people on this train looked like they were part of a circus, there was even a rather... feminine man. Well, that would be a change from the typical bearded woman you saw in freak shows. And the men! They were at least over the age of thirty, looking more like her previous clients that she would of liked. She took a drag on her cigarette, hoping that the rest of the travellers wouldn't object to the one luxury she allowed herself. A smirk made its way across her face, silently laughing to herself, she was but a prostitute born in the gutters of Paris, not some aristocrat! Still, she had enough material wealth to act the part... Wasn't this America the land of opportunity and social mobility? Maybe in spite of all the bad things fate threw at her to bring her here, Lucrece would grow be an aristocrat here in her own right.

She finished pacing up and down the carriage and sat down, feeling unusually calmer than before. One of the middle-aged men, American by his accent, tried to strike up a conversation with her. She didn't appreciate the attention, but what was there to do to spent time here on this rickety train, other than staring out the smog-filled windows? She sighed. Might as well humour the poor fellow....

"I suppose someone like you is coming to this town not by her own choice? Very few Aristocrats such as yourself would ever consider coming to America, let alone this town. What have you heard about it, if I may query?"

She sighed again, Americans and their manners, no wonder the British don't think highly of them...

"Monsieur, I think it would be better to introduce ourselves first, don't you think?" She replied, her voice coloured with a strong Parisian accent. She put down the cigarette holder on the window still and removed the lace glove on her right hand, offering a handshake, "I am Mme. Leblanc, who are you?"

John Mahoney- Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

Three long days and nights since he boarded the train with second thoughts racing through his head. Only countered by the deep sense of peace. A blank expression shined on his gargoyle face as time blurred into a half awake state. Half dreams shattered as he awoke from bonking his face against the filthy window.

Startled, and with a graveled gravestone voice "Uh.. er. Sorry." looking straight at the person across.Crooked broken smile spreads across his face. More awake, he looks around at the other passengers. Nods friendly to those who look back .
Closed his eyes and placed his meaty paw in front of him playing a pretend piano while humming Mozart.

Richard Morrison, still on the train

"Monsieur, I think it would be better to introduce ourselves first, don't you think?" She replied, her voice coloured with a strong Parisian accent. She put down the cigarette holder on the window still and removed the lace glove on her right hand, offering a handshake, "I am Mme. Leblanc, who are you?"

Formalities, the Europeans always want to be formal...

Richard began staring up at the ceiling and looked at the window for a second. "Have you ever just looked out of the window on one of these Miss Leblanc? Quite soothing and I myself doing it all the time. Oh, right." He shook her hand and repeated the line he had to have said hundreds of times at this point. "Richard Morrison, Private Detective at your service! I am actually here on business and I would like to know anything you could tell me about this city called Harkstead."

Richard was already about to give up on her and possibly interview the man in front of him, perhaps he would be more to the point. Then perhaps looking out the window or maybe getting another book, or the paper. The paper was always interesting, if fictitious. Morrison had always joked that some of his fiction stories had more real news in them than the papers.

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

Richard began staring up at the ceiling and looked at the window for a second. "Have you ever just looked out of the window on one of these Miss Leblanc? Quite soothing and I myself do it all the time. Oh, right." He shook her hand and repeated the line he had to have said hundreds of times at this point. "Richard Morrison, Private Detective at your service! I am actually here on business and I would like to know anything you could tell me about this city called Harkstead."

With both bare hands meeting contact, Lucrece braced herself for the small flashes of memory, those flashes would prove whether this man was who he said he was. Private detectives were seldom heard of, let alone seen in person. Lucrece found him to be odd, what spent time looking out of a window whose glass is so dirty you can't see anything? Other than that, she noted to herself that she felt oddly relaxated, ready to open up to this total stranger. She broke the handshake, put her lace glove back on, picked up the cigarette holder and took a deep drag, ready to see what few memories she can absorb.

A city at night, sirens going off in the distance, tweezers picking up broken glass, taking fingerprints off a weapon...

With that, she decided this man was telling the truth and even more questions popped up in her mind: why the questions about Harkstead? What business had brought him here to the little town? Those would have to be answered later. For now she removed the cigarette hold from her mouth, holding to suggest an air of indifference and replied to the man's previous and present questions.

"Monsieur Morrison, I am here because with present circumstances, it is no longer safe for me in my home country. Political scheming, I'm sure you would understand. I have heard little about this town of Harkstead and have found no solace in looking out of dirty little windows."

A Conductor entered the front, having already gotten tickets and fare earlier.
"Attention all Passengers. We'll be arriving in Harkstead in an hour or so, there may be some delay due to mining." His tone was civil, calm, and professional. Tinged with a tired feeling of a weary worker.

Looking around the Passengers to see if any of them needed anything. He stopped for a brief chat with an old man looking like an aged book scholar (librarian), with a book bound in leather clutched to his chest like a priest. Dressed for cold weather and greying short hair, he seemed pale compared to anyone there.

"Monsieur Morrison, I am here because with present circumstances, it is no longer safe for me in my home country. Political scheming, I'm sure you would understand. I have heard little about this town of Harkstead and have found no solace in looking out of dirty little windows."

Richard was now not even paying attention to her. She was about as useless as they came to him now, though burning bridges was not his strong suit so he diverted his attention back to her. "Ah, right. Yes I do suppose that would happen a lot. Unfortunate you chose this place to seek help in. It seems it can do little to help even itself at this moment. Perhaps you should give the windows another go."

"Attention all Passengers. We'll be arriving in Harkstead in an hour or so, there may be some delay due to mining."

Morrison sighed, he was anxious to get going, though there was another person who seemed that they might know something, if not he could make for a decent enough conversation. He was large enough and seemingly trusting enough to be superstitious, which was perfect for having basic knowledge on a town. The giant was obviously a hunter, wearing an assortment of dead animals that Morrison had not seen in the city much. He tapped the man's shoulder.

"Excuse me, I hope you do not mind my asking but, what brings you to Harkstead? Have you heard anything at all about it?"

"What business is t'at of yours?"

He snaps at the detective. Clearly he's not in the mood to talk.

John- Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car ...T-minus 1 hour

"Attention all Passengers. We'll be arriving in Harkstead in an hour or so, there may be some delay due to mining."

John opens his mouth as to say something profound, but only a sigh escapes his trap. Looking at the person across from him, it dons on John... He can't decide if its a guy or a woman.

"So...er.. Whats all dis then? Going Harkstead fer ...er.. Business or pleasure?" Gravestone gravel of a voice floats on over.

His meaty hands fidget on as if trying to play a tiny child's piano.

Jacqueline-On the train headed for Harkstead

The brute in front of her woke suddenly, banging his head on the dirt stained window. It seemed that he had startled himself, but Jacqueline hadn't expected him to be the sharpest tool in the box. He apologised and smiled, showing off a rack of chipped and broken teeth and started humming and playing on an imaginary piano. She recognised it as Mozart, one of his later piano concertos but she couldn't remember the exact name.

"So...er.. Whats all dis then? Going Harkstead fer ...er.. Business or pleasure?"

"Business."She said in low voice

The pretend playing was nice, but she wouldn't learn anything about Harkstead from him, she could hear small snippets of conversation from the back of the carriage and decided that would be the best the place to learn some information. She dug her hands deeply into the pockets of her coat, kept her head down, and walked towards the luggage compartment.

John- Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

John figures it must been something he said as he watches him/her walk away. Then looks at his hands imagining how life is gonna be from now on, and again playing that imaginary piano. Humming Beethoven's moonlight sonata.

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

"Ah, right. Yes I do suppose that would happen a lot. Unfortunate you chose this place to seek help in. It seems it can do little to help even itself at this moment. Perhaps you should give the windows another go."

Lucrece snorted as the man walked away to trouble another passenger. Windows, windows, windows, this Morrison was like a broken record and to add the tune, the Conductor said this piece about the arrival time and delays. She didn't care, as long as she got there safe and sound. Meanwhile, the feminine man was talking to a huge gentlemen, the size of a bull. Lucrece tried eavesdropped on the conversation, it wasn't a remotely interesting one but what was interesting was the pitch of the feminine man's voice. It was than of either of very young man who's voice had just broken, or a woman trying to impersonate a man. She was snapped from her thoughts by the sight of the conversation ending and the slender man walking towards her end of the train.

Time to take the opportunity, She stood up to stop him while he continued on the luggage carriage and she noticed that even if he was in fact a woman, he was tall. Towering over her by about three inches. The man with a bowler hat was surprised, he hadn't expected to be interrupted in a manner like this, to break the awkward silence, she tried to start a conversation. Searching for something to speak about,

"Excusez-moi, forgive me but, you have an... odd appearance. How about we introduce ourselves to one another?"

Jacqueline-On the train headed for Harkstead

She was making her way down the aisle towards the luggage compartment when a short woman, French judging by her accent, stood up suddenly getting in her way. She would have been tempted to steal the French woman's jewellery, but there would have been to many witnesses and nowhere to escape to. There was no use trying to pickpocket her either, the dress she was wearing had no pockets she could see.

"Excusez-moi, forgive me but, you have an... odd appearance. How about we introduce ourselves to one another?"

Damn! If she hadn't said anything Jacqueline could've just barged through.

"Jacky, ma'am" She said in the same low tone" Now if you excuse me, I need to get by"

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

Even with the jumbled phrasing of her sentences, in part to due to nervousness and in part due to her loose grasp on the English language, the man(?) replied without hesitation. Though he left the impression that he was in a hurry to get to the luggage carriage. Lucrece didn't care about that, she would have her way. This person looked like the only one who she could have a decent, albeit short, conversation with.

"Jacky, ma'am" She said in the same low tone "Now if you excuse me, I need to get by"

She replied in the same manner as she with Morrison - a polite introduction and the offer of a handshake. Surely he would have time for one simple handshake?

"Mme. Leblanc," Lurcece said, extending the un-gloved hand, "I wonder what brings someone like you to Harkstead..."

Like one of her smoke rings, she left the question in the air, whether or he would bat it away or not was up to him. Either way, she would get some answers to this enigma.

Jacqueline-On the train headed for Harkstead

"Mme. Leblanc," Lurcece said, extending the un-gloved hand, "I wonder what brings someone like you to Harkstead..."

Leblanc was obviously in no rush to let Jacqueline pass, she had extended her hand for a handshake and looked strangely expectant, like she would learn something from it. Seeing no harm in it though Jacqueline shook her hand.

"Work" She said hastily and brushed passed to finally reach the luggage compartment.

The compartment was full of boxes upon boxes. Delicately inscribed chests and small duffel bags. She had heard that you could tell a man's wealth from the clothes he wore, if so, you could do the same by inspecting what he carried his luggage in. There was a huge stack of furs and a collection of stuffed animals near the back, they either belonged to a hunter who was trying to sell his wears in Harkstead, or a fan of taxidermy.

It would be best if she waited until later to have a look for any valuables, that persistent French woman might come looking for her, she hadn't been caught by the police so far and she wouldn't be caught by a nosy aristocrat. She sat down against the comfy furs and waited .

On the Train Bound for Harkstead, Luggage Car...

"Oy!, you can't be back here." A gruff Irishman with telltale red hair and pale complexion. In one hand was a hammer, plain and simple , it stated "I'm a hammer, used to hammer things."

"If you got something back here you need to check, just go ask the conductor first." His clothes were working class, and he had been hiding in the shadows behind a crate.

"You better be gone once I'm done checking the luggage." He stated simply, turning around and muttering, he tapped a trunk with the hammer and looked to be examining the lock.
----
The doors from car to car were rickety sliding contraptions with small windows, wood and metal frames. The noise they made was barely noticeable above the din from the outside.

Moving from car to car was no easy matter, and one slip for someone not physically versed would mean they'd end up as paste.

Passenger Car...

The conductor had finished the conversation with the old man and was smiling as they shared some small joke. Looking at the passengers and seeing Jacqueline missing, and looking towards Leblanc. Walking quickly,
"Pardon me ma'am, did a passenger move to the car behind you? That door should be locked..." His tone was polite and cordial.

Beakon on train

After an awkward pause that lasted for what felt like days, Dr Beakon retracted his outstretched arm, and instead returned to his paper. Finding nothing more to engage him he placed it on the chair next to him and moved to vacate the seat opposite the surly and uncooperative gentleman he found himself forced with.
Standing in the isle he turned to a perturbed looking woman. 5 foot 4, blonde hair, very attractive. He looked at her and asked in an inquisitive but compassionate manor.

"Something about travelling on the train appears to make people impolite, and short tempered, perhaps the lack of leg room. Pleasure to meet you mademoiselle. I'm Doctor Beakon."

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

'Jack' walked past without a hitch, all Lucrece wanted was some indirect answers to the questions in her head, after. She looked at the cigerette holder for a moment, finding the cigarette at end reduced to stub and Lucrece discreetly disposed of it on the train floor, as she let the memories sinks in.

Tearing off a gown, running in the rooftops, hoping that guard didn't notice you, picking locks...

So this 'he' was in fact a 'she'! That would explain the odd appearance and the odd voice. Smiling to herself, she only had just noticed the conductor was walking up to her. Lucrece froze for a second, thinking her little disposal had been noticed. Fretting, she brushed down her dress, a habit of hers in nervous bouts like these. But that didn't changed the fact that the conductor was coming, in fact he was right in front of Lucrece now.

"Pardon me ma'am, did a passenger move to the car behind you? That door should be locked..."

She breathed a sigh of relief, this was just about a silly old door, not littering on a train. Lucrece straightened herself out and answered, her first thoughts leaning towards this mishap of a mistake of the staff onboard.

"Oui. But I know nothing of whether the door was locked or not," She said, "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

Nevertheless, her old anxieties caught up with her, that woman was defiantly a criminal of some kind and Lucrece didn't want her going through her luggage. All those dress and all that jewellery! Not to mention she didn't want to stuck in her current dress. She though the colours, even faded, was too bright and gaudy. Lucrece sighed, whatever the faults, this dress gave the impression of the sweet innocent French noble and that was what she needed. A friendly face, perhaps the only man here under forty, called out to her in a British accent.

"Something about travelling on the train appears to make people impolite, and short tempered, perhaps the lack of leg room. Pleasure to meet you mademoiselle. I'm Doctor Beakon."

She smiled at the gentleman and took the opportunity to sit in the empty seat next to him, freeing up the aisle. She extended her naked hand in a handshake and introduced herself.

"Oui, Doctor. In America, people come and go all the time, so they cram us in here like cattle, no?" She said while offered the kind Doctor her hand, "You must forgive me, I would courtsey but it appears the aisle needs to be free at this moment."

Jacqueline-On the train headed for Harkstead, Luggage car

A red heeded man jumped out from behind one of the crates starling Jacqueline and started yelling at her. He looked worse for wear, weather-beaten and gruff. His clothes didn't help his appearance, they looked shabby and forlorn, old working class clothes and in his hand was a mean looking hammer.

"Oy!, you can't be back here. I'm a hammer, used to hammer things. If you got something back here you need to check, just go ask the conductor first. You better be gone once I'm done checking the luggage." He said and turned around.

It looked like he was examining the locks with his hammer, knocking on every few he passed. Jacqueline didn't want to head back into the passenger car just yet, the passage from car to car was perilous, once false move you would be turned to paste under the wheels of the train. She hadn't found anything interesting yet either.

"I'll be on my way then Mr. Hammer"

She slid open the door and closed it again. When she was sure that his back was turned she found a space between two large chests and hid between them. She concentrated for a moment and vanished.

Docotr Beakon on the train

The doctor reached for her hand and took it giving her a firm handshake.

"Not to worry mademoiselle. It's a pleasure to meet you, although a name would go well to fit so fine a face as yours."

Warren. Passenger Car.

Warren opened his eyes and twisted around in his seat, taking in everyone in the car. There seemed to be far to much going on for him to catch any sleep. He may as well do something to help pass the time.

He noticed that the man to his right had been asking several of the passengers questions about their destination. He seemed like a good fellow to strike up conversation with.

"Excuse me Mister...Morison was it? But why do you have such an intense interest in this little town we're heading to?"

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

The handshake was tight and firm, all the better for her power. Nevertheless, Lucrece quickly broke the handshake in concealed shock, the images were so raw:

A large tent, screaming, the smell of gunpowder thick in the air, distant sound of gunfire, blood, so much blood.

This was the downside of her power, seeing memories like this one. This was why she had to leave France, Lucrece had seen too much, knew too much and the aristocrats of France didn't like that. For all the friendliness that smile contained, Doctor Beakon had seen much and had possibly killed. She regained her composure and replied to the Doctor.

"Not to worry mademoiselle. It's a pleasure to meet you, although a name would go well to fit so fine a face as yours."

"I must apologise again, for not introducing myself," She said, "I am Mme. Leblanc, though you may call me Lucrece if it pleases you."

Dr Beakon on the train

The doctor noticed a look of concern flit across the woman's face but decided not to mention it.

"I must apologise again, for not introducing myself," She said, "I am Mme. Leblanc, though you may call me Lucrece if it pleases you."

"No need to apologise. So Mme Leblanc what brings you to this cheery part of the world? He asked. "Not the conversation I don't doubt."

Train Bound for Harkstead Passenger Car...

The Conductor nodded thanks and moved past Lucrece, with a simple pardon me, and excuse me towards her and the Beakon.
Going to the door he opened it, closed it, stumbled, and went in to the luggage.

... Luggage Car...

The Conductor walked inside, failing to notice the camouflaged Jacqueline, walking down the aisle and peering side to side for any evidence of someone. He also failed to notice the man hiding behind a tall crate who bashed between the shoulder blades.

As the conductor cried out as he fell, immediately set upon again by another smack to the head, and fell silent. Whether he was dead or alive, no one nearby could tell, what was clear though was the fact there was no visible blood oddly enough.

The Sound of the man dropping the hammer followed by the dragging of the body, the man barely grunted with the effort of the dead weight. Very strong, yet clearly in control, he waited for a few moments for the train to pass through shadows of tall trees and tossed the body out, making sure that it hit the other door, and leaving the previous ajar.

Not a soul saw it, excluding one. As the large irish man quickly hurried away, and out the other luggage door, leading only to logs, coal, and other goods.

...Passenger Car.

A audible thump went through the back of the car, and the door shook a bit more in its frame.

John- Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

"Pardon me ma'am, did a passenger move to the car behind you? That door should be locked..."

John over hearing this stops his imaginary symphony. Opening his eyes to see the conductor talking to the most beautiful woman he has seen. Star struck for a few seconds.

"Oui. But I know nothing of whether the door was locked or not," She said, "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

Women never really ever paid interest in him. Even the prostitutes that worked the docks were off put by his face. Only when he won in the fights did women pay attention,because mainly he won them money. Maybe Harkstead women will different, maybe this French flower is different... or not.

With a sigh he shifted his girth to stand and paused as the woman started talking to another passenger. Feeling like a fool just standing around... Then he thought he heard a THUMP from where the Conductor went.

"Huh?"

Slowly making his way to the luggage cart with curiosity guiding him. Not seeing much of anything...

" Hello? Mr.Conductor? "

Lucrece Leblanc - Harkstead-bound Train, Passenger Car

She had recovered from the memory flashes of slaughter only to be jolted by an audible thump that interrupted the conversation and made Lucrece opinion of the train company take a sharp sour turn. It was bad enough that the seats were only bear benches and the train was clearly held together by the natural forces and a single screw. The thump clearly had disrupted the other passengers as well, with one big bull of man shrugging off the loud sound like a weak blow. She brushed her face gentle and after all when back to normal, continued the conversation, hoping to divert so that the kind Doctor would explain where he had experienced so much bloodshed.

"No need to apologise. So Mme Leblanc what brings you to this cheery part of the world?" He asked. "Not the conversation I don't doubt."

"To see this New World my father fought for, Doctor." she said, half-feigning sincerity. "He died in the Revolutionary War so I never got to know him."

Richard Morrison on the train

"Excuse me Mister...Morison was it? But why do you have such an intense interest in this little town we're heading to?"

A new person had started talking, someone a bit more sociable apparently and Richard could appreciate it. He supposed enlightening one man would not do anyone harm. Besides, the guy across from him had more sticks up his ass than his boss.

"Well, I have come in interest of certain...events that have supposedly transpired in the city. I honestly don't know much about them other than they have happened and as a Private Detective, it grabbed hold on my interest. I was hoping someone would know something about Harkstead, though it seems I will simply have to interrogate a few city dwellers. Unless of course, you would happen to know anything in regards to my case?"

Beakon on the train

Docotor Beakon though that he heard a sound from behind him but dismissed it as little more than the groaning of aged carriage on its last leg. He returned his attention to his attractive companion. His fingers drummed on the table, eager for a cigarette. He thought he could just about smell them on Mme Leblanc. Her reply interrupted his trail of thought. He descided it was probbably better not to dedicate too much of his time on thoughts of that nature.

"To see this New World my father fought for, Doctor." "He died in the Revolutionary War so I never got to know him."

"I am terribly sorry for your loss mademoiselle. War is a truly horrible thing."
The doctor tried, and failed, to not think of the specifics.

Warren. Passenger Car.

"Well, I have come in interest of certain...events that have supposedly transpired in the city. I honestly don't know much about them other than they have happened and as a Private Detective, it grabbed hold on my interest. I was hoping someone would know something about Harkstead, though it seems I will simply have to interrogate a few city dwellers. Unless of course, you would happen to know anything in regards to my case?"

Warren leaned forward and gave Morrison his full attention as he spoke. These "strange events" were just vague enough to make him want to know more. After Morison was done, Warren put his hand to his chin and considered everything he had heard before deciding on the particular town he was heading towards.

"I merely know the bare basics of the town's goings on. Mainly, it's been taking as many workers it can get it's hands on. Miners mostly. I'm afraid I dont have any information that may go deeper. However, if you ever find yourself in need of an interrogator on your investigation, don't hesitate to ask for my aid"

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