THE FIRST TRIAL

[The hour is up.

A bell chimes.

Soon enough, the Conductor collects everyone.]

Right, come now. You don't want the rats come and drag you in.

[And indeed, if any of them do try to resist, the rats will swarm them and drag them down to the locked gate.

Soon, the Conductor is standing where the lock is, hands on her hips. Soon enough the Empress' Shadow, the Other Victoria, the daughter of Her Thrice-Renewed Majesty, hobbles in, still dressed in her black, using a cane, her head held high as she stared at the Conductor. If the Strigoi do indeed remember her, perhaps they have informed her of what is happening. The two stare at one another, silent, for a moment.

Then, with a sigh, the Conductor begins to recite words that she has clearly said dozens of times.]

Private citizen. In the name of the Empire and your eternal Empre-

[Beep. The Dowager's thumb is immediately on the fingerprint scanner, and there is a click before the chains dissipate, as if by magic. Then, the fingerprint scanner-a familiar, of all things, of a Strigoi-then hops over to the Dowager, squeaking over to the Outer Terrace. Then, the Dowager herself turned and began to walk off, though not without giving a small, sympathetic nod to the Strangers as she leaves.]

...oh. Well then. Thank you, your Majesty.

[Clearing her throat, the Conductor throws open the gates. It's a small English garden in twilight, with a fountain and bushes and a few animal-like familiars here and there. There is a small station which to make tea and crackers with accompanying crockery near the house, though there are no servants manning it.

In the center of the garden is fifteen podiums-something McBurn would recognize almost immediately-in a very large, wide circle, and a larger, sixteenth chair which the Conductor sits in,. Each podium has a pair of sunglasses chained to them; there's no way to unchain them.

Above them is darkness. On the side of the house facing them, a window curtain is slightly open; the Empress' Shadow is the only other live witness to this aside from the crew.

The conductor presses a button on the chair, and everyone's cuff beeps. There is a clock again, along with a list.]

THE ROSE	THE FORLORN	THE GOLEM	THE DISCORD
				THE HALVED

[She then presses a second button, which seems to do nothing. She then speaks laconically, if not bored.]

This is the trial of Weftlander Proto Man, alias Blues, alias "The Alphabet" . We are in week 2 of our journey; our current stop is Victoria's Chasm. The suspects are as recorded in Little Courtesy Registration No. 36244-H. This is Conductor Lilac recording; I am empowered by the edict of Her Thrice-Renewed Majesty to magister the following proceedings.

[Then, much more lively (if not a little sarcastic).]

Bureaucracy. Isn't it grand?

Now. Let's begin, shall we? You have the information, and you have your suspects. You have a time limit to which you must adhere to, and you must vote before that time ends. You may ask me questions if you wish, but-don't ask me to tell you who did it. Or anything else ridiculous. Do make your questions pertinent to what is happening, please.

[With that, she stands and strolls over to the station to make herself tea. Looks like there's no other choice aside from having tea and crackers; the clock is ticking.


The trial for the murder of Proto Man, the Alphabet, has begun.]

THE FIRST INVESTIGATION

[Friday morning dawns. It's a surprisingly brisk day; the winds are cold outside, and the sky is dark with its lack of sky. Well, a normal sky that one would be used to, at least.

The rats can be heard scurrying to and forth, in the walls. All seems to be as normal as it can be, this morning.]

WEEK 2

[It is again early morning when the train docks next. This time, however, the dock is not as busy. There are few trains to be seen, and even fewer people. Only a man stands at the dock, teeth sharp in his smile, scelera a deep gold as he stares beneath his fedora.

"Unexpected," he said with a smile. A two-dimensional dog with the head of a scribbled black cloud hops by, ignoring him. "But not unwanted. Do make yourselves comfortable."

This new place is known as Victoria's Chasm, named after an Empress. No, not that one. Her Thrice-Renewed Majesty is quite comfortable on her Throne, and rulled for much longer than 99 days, thank you very much.

In the distance, black begins to erupt like tendrils. Lightning flashes through the clouds. This is the land of monsters; tread carefully. And do not despair, whatever you do.


There are fifteen strangers left in this place.]

SKREEEEE!

[It's about three o'clock when the train suddenly hears something like the cry of a crow. It's not coming from inside the train, either; it's coming from the outside.

Almost instantly, the speaker system comes to life, and the Conductor's voice echoes through the cars.]

Attention, all passengers and crew! We are under attack. Please come to armaments if you are willing. Otherwise, please congregate in the lounge for your own safety. Immediately, please.

I will meet those of you coming to the weapons.

WEEK 1

[The train wouldn't stop. Not until very early the next morning. The few who might have been awake would be able to exit the train, entering the cool twilight of the dawn. The star is dark, and few stars can be seen in the sky as a cold breeze begins to blow from the mountain beyond. You can see some chunks of rock floating idly nearby, far away from the station that it won't hit trains, but near enough that one can see they are larger than the train they just disembarked.

Lastly, laid out in front of them, the first port of call: Menahoven. The mountain: The Throat of the World.

But which world? Who knows. Not any of yours. Maybe it doesn't matter. Not when you are so far from home. Not when you have no way to get off this rock without the aid of the trains-and they will not let you pass.

It looks like you're stuck here until the Conductor decides to leave. In the meantime, everyone will need to get comfortable.


There are fifteen strangers left in this place.]

ALL SHALL BE WELL

[The first thing you realize upon waking up is the horn of a train echoing through the room you are in. You will notice immediately that the room you are in is not yours. The bed you are in isn't the one you call yours. Your clothing is not what you were wearing last either. And if you are where you had been, you can't tell. The windows-what few there are-are tinted, and you can't open them. There is a paper on the desk that doesn't belong to you, with rules that you must follow for reasons you can't fathom. And when you open the door to the room you are in, you find—

a train. You are on a train. You can hear the chugging, faint though it is, though the walls. There is something else you can hear as well-footsteps. Cries. Shouts.

You are not alone. There are others on this train with you, headed to who knows where, having been brought here for who knows what reason or how. You really hope it's not for anything untold. You really hope someone will explain soon.

For now, all that there is to do is gather one's bearings and see who else is trapped here. Because, right now, that is what you are, along with everyone else. Best get comfortable. You may be here a while.


There are fifteen strangers left in this place.]

[so... that was another fun-filled trial. when Osomatsu finally is free from his coffin and he leaves the ossuary in a hurry. he's... well, he's not happy, but he feels better that Emma and Ambrosine were spared. he wonders if it's even worth having a meeting right now, but it might be a good idea to collect their heads.

everyone's in bad shape right now.

he doesn't have enough paper to write everyone notes, so he'll just go around the mansion and search for the other guests]

I'm holding a meeting in the parlor. If you have food, you wanna share?

[you don't have to share your food, though, he explains. you can just bring yourself! after that, he'll go down to wait. he doesn't have any of his own food to share, but he has the healing beer, which he does bring with him]

THE THIRD TRIAL

[After the finale clues are found, the ticking which we totally didn't forget to add to the investigation post in everyone's head stops, and the Elder Steward's voice echoes through the webs.]

Excellent. Now, please, proceed to the ossuary! Do not tarry.

[Just like before, the Ossuary rumbles upwards to accept the remaining Strangers, with bats hassling those who take too long. Just like before, chains drag everyone to their respective coffins, and in the center are souls for sustenance. You might expect the only true difference to be that piles of skulls now replace the coffins where Zelda, Bangladesh, and Jun might have otherwise stood when they were alive. However, one more change has been made - Eric's coffin is now quite a bit fancier and even a little less coffin-looking. For example, it has a nice chair! Apparently there's some favoritism afoot.

Once everyone is in place, the Elder Steward strolls forward to the edge of the circle, hands crossed beneath his robes. The scrolls glow to reveal the evidence and the suspect list as this happens.]

THE OVERBOARD	THE CIRCUIT	THE RUBBER	THE NEON
				THE ENEMY

Now. Let us get started, shall we?

[And with that, the ticking begins anew. Someone killed. It's time to decide who's responsible.

The trial for the murder of Jun Ushiro, The Launcher, has begun.]