ALL MANNER OF THING.

[It's some time before the light dies down. Before you all return to yourselves. Before you realize you are all on the floor of the Throne of Hours.

And that Lilac is poking you with a cane.]

Ah, excellent, you're not dead.

[A gentle golden light streams into the room. Is it the Sun? It might just be.

You look upwards to the top of the Throne. The massive monster lies there, a pink ichor dripping from it. It's eye is rolled up, and it doesn't move.

There is no sign of the golem, or the Soul Gem-]

Oh. You're all awake. Are you all right?

[The golem walks in, still cuddling the cat. There is something...different about her. More human?

The Soul Gem is still nowhere to be see, but one might be able to see a glowing ring on her finger. She slowly walks over, and offers a hand to everyone.]

We...should probably talk. I...there's something I want you to see, as well.

[Will you take it?]

THE THIRD EXECUTION


[The chime goes. The voting ends. The cuffs begin to blink, and soon enough, the picture on the screen is shown.]

[It is done. Charlotte Aulin, The Bright, has been condemned to die.]

E R R O R

[From the Conductor's seat, she turns pale as a sheet.]

No, that-!

[She slumps back into her seat, staring at her phone, silent. Stunned. Angry, certainly, but definitely stunned.

The Smiling Priest walks back over to the podium.]

It appears the Conductor has not explained all of the rules of the Little Courtesy to you. Shall I, Millicent?

[No response.]

A trial with a dead culprit, successfully convicted, automatically voids. No execution of the culprit, of course. No incentive. But. She did not realize the bomb was not connected to the deaths, as you all did. A rare occurrence of of inadvertent tampering, it does not happen very often in these trials.

She realized too late, of course that her uncertainty doomed the proceedings. In this event, the conviction of an innocent person is automatically overturned, and said innocent is given the incentive by means of compensation for their...inconvenience.

[He flashes a smile.]

As I said. The Drowned Man would not allow you to die tonight, my dear.

THE THIRD TRIAL

[The Conductor doesn't meet them when the chime rings. Instead, it is the Smiling Priest.]

Come. Though betrayal waits for no one, she is waiting for you.

[He motions towards the Synod, beckoning all to follow. Soon, everyone passes, almost painfully slowly, through the Seven Stations. They come to the sherd of the Mountain. Beyond that are 15 podiums, illuminated by its light. Around those are pews, with many hooded figures already sitting.

The Conductor is in a chair in front of the step to the well, looking absolutely angry and miserable. She speaks the info into her phone, but she sounds like she is being forced to say it, as opposed to simply going through the same rote routine. She takes deep breaths as the suspect list loads on everyone's cuffs.]

THE BRIGHT	THE WATCHFUL	THE DEIDRE	THE BRITTLE
				THE HALVED

A member of my crew is dead alongside your dead. Justice shall be served. I do hope you are proud of yourself, whoever committed this crime.

[She says nothing else. She looks like she's on tenterhooks. Looks like there's no point in delaying.

The trial for the murders of Konawa Talimo, The Deidre, and Zack Foster, The Watchful, has begun.]

THE COLD AND SILENT

[The Conductor doesn't speak to anyone as they are escorted back. She simply goes to her quarters, leaving everyone to their own devices for the evening and night. There were things to do, reports to file, and of course negotiating the release of certain animals from the prison and the removal of that incompetently-named warden. A million and one things before they departed for the next port, which they did before the sun began to rise the next day.

Still, the Strangers will find a note slipped under their door when they wake up.]

Some answers were promised. Meet me in the lounge car at eleven am.

[She had the rats prepare food, and booze is of course readily available. She herself is sitting in a chair, pangolin sleeping in her lap, waiting for whoever arrives. Once eleven hits, she speaks.]

Well.

What are you waiting for? Let's get on with it.

[[OOC: CAUTION! This post will contain spoilers for the Fallen London metaverse, including for Sunless Skies! Abandon ignorance, all ye who enter!]]

THE SECOND EXECUTION


[As the time nears its end, the audience begins to chant the numbers as the seconds tick by. Their shouting and screaming reaches a fever pitch, until the countdown gets to zero. They cheer wildly as the chime sounds, as if they were watching a soccer game.

Lilac, for her part, simply sighs as a face is flashed onto the big screens and the cuff. On the big screens, the numbers 10-2 also flash on the screen.]

[She waits until everyone has quieted down before she speaks again.]

Everyone, do be quiet. And prepare to the execution. Please put on protective sunglasses, and do not look directly at the light if you do not have any. Of course, if you do, we do not take responsibility for what will happen to you.

[She looks at Zack.]

Now. Unless you can calm down, I shall put your glasses on for you.

THE SECOND TRIAL

[Soon after the finals clues are found, there is a beep on everyone's watch. Then, the Conductor's voice echoes through the jail once more.]

Attention. All passengers of the Eventide, please come to the building in the courtyard. If you are not a passenger, you must have a ticket to enter.

[A ticket? Oh boy. And everyone's suspicions are confirmed when they come to the courtyard and find people-many of them who had been fleeing the prison that very morning-queuing in line to enter the building. Not the Strangers-they are immediately escorted in.

They find themselves in a courtroom, with them sitting at podiums in the center. Above them in the ceiling is a retractable dome; all around on the walls are large screens, so people can watch the proceedings no matter their location. People are filing in, even as a recorded voice drones that the jail isn't responsible for lives lost during the trial-or the sentencing.

Hm.

Lilac is in the judge's seat, the pangolin in her hands. Nearby, the captured animals-sans the rabbit, for some reason, and the sheep-are inside another pen that has been set up. The force field seems to have been quickly erected. After announcing the court proceedings and registering her right to magistrate, as she did the previous week, she clears her throat.]

THE WATCHFUL	THE CAVIAN	THE BRITTLE	THE FORLORN
				THE ENGINEER

You all know what you must do. You have your evidence, and you must decided who is responsible. Remember-every vote counts. And...just pretend you're alone again, if it helps, I suppose.

[There's not much else to do. There is the option to ask for the concessions they are selling to everyone, though its mostly water and popcorn. Otherwise, you are once again on a time limit. This time, the audience is watching. Their eyes stare hungrily at every action.

The trial for the murder of Atsushi Nakajima, the Rushlight, has begun..]

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.]