Cog & Gear: Flashpoint

[Rook]

So what you guys are saying is that his title is an oddity?

I chose the current title as a sort of a reference to the Victorian "freak shows", but Oddity definetly fits better, so I'll change it.

[BetaB17]

Also, not to jinx anybody in particular.. but given the rep with player money in S&S.. and the fact that a good percentage of PCs here are criminals...

...I give it the first two weeks b4 somebody goes from <100e to drastically less... just sayin.. bc [&@%!] happens..

[The-Shadow-One]

You're rather optimistic. I give it a day.

[Aarah]

If anyone tries to abscond with Roger's currency, they'll jolly well get a thorough verbal display of his vexation.

[The SheoDovah]

Rob me and I'll curse ye! I'll make ye incredibly itchy and ye can't do anything about it! Mwahahahaha!

[Rook]

Act 1

A Mild Case of Civil Unrest

George Lauxan Station

It was a brusque Tuesday in September. The wind blew with a passion and there was a slight nip in the air, though the residents of Kimmit paid no mind to it. A certain philosopher once called all Kimmetians, big or small, just another cog in a well-oiled machine. This held true through all kinds of weather, and a simple cool breeze was not going to stop men from going to work. It would not stop the laborer on his way to shovel coal into the mouth of a hungry machine, it would not stop the tax collector on his way to collect from a crippled worker, it would not stop the young lads and lasses who ran miles from their homes to the gardens where they would collect watercress to sell to passers-by in the streets and train stations.

Today, however, the machine had inexplicably slowed down. The 7:00 AM train was, predictably and as shown by the billboard above their heads, set to arrive at 7:00 AM sharp. The large, circular clock by said billboard displayed the time: 7:15 AM. There was much nervous muttering among the shabby would-be passengers, and much guffawing and clucking from the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies. Were a philosopher here, they would likely proclaim this to be an excellent example of the "class-divide".

The bored or impatient members of this crowd sought something to hold their attention in the station, and luckily, there was quite a lot of material. The train station was divided in to three levels: the ground floor, where people entered and ascended a bronze staircase to enter the second level, which functioned as the platform. The train tracks were made of iron and there were four shabby booths, three of which sold tickets, while the fourth was run by a tired-looking man who was selling informational pamphlets, maps, and newspapers titled The Illustrated Kimmit Times. The second level was also home to several independent merchants, who were selling pocket watches, candy, and various other miscellaneous goods. The third level was the highest and closest to the glass roof through which should have poured bright sunlight, though only grey rays came through it today. The working-class had gathered below on the second level, but the third level was host to most of the aforementioned well-dressed individuals. They sat on benches reading newspapers and muttering curses under their breath, much to the amusement of their companions in affluence, who laughed heartily at every condemnation.

The third level was held up by several large, brick pillars. Immediately after its construction, Kimmetians had taken advantage of these convenient ad-spots and had plastered all sorts of papers over them. A sample of the advertisements read: Wakko's Joke Shop: "Bamboozle your friends and revenge yourself upon enemies!", a poster depicting a bespectacled man Wanted: Robert Ash; Tax Evasion; Reward: One of Guilty's Possessions., McKane's Fine Chocolates and Cocoa: "Treat Your Lady as a Queen" . A scruffy lad in his teens was attempting to hang up a poster emblazoned with bright colors and a caricature of King George Monroe, which read, "FALSE KING". He was engaged in a heated argument with a watchman, who had clearly ordered him to take the poster down.

In one of the corners of the station was a bearded man with a wild look in his eye. He wore a brown tailcoat, a purple vest, black pinstriped pants, and a grey bowler. He was standing on a small crate which shuddered under even his diminished weight, shouting to the crowd, "The High Dragons will return to wreak vengeance upon us! They will fly over the Fringe with fire as their breath and doom brought on by the flap of their great wings! We must build a wall, we must fortify it, we must brace ourselves for the coming apocalypse!"

One of the listeners shouted back, "Why don't we dig a moat, as well?" This remark earned its fair share of laughs, and eventually the crowd around the doomsayer began to disperse. One boy of no more than ten years pushed the emaciated man off of the crate, sending him toppling to the ground. The boy returned to his parents with a grin and received a pat on the back from his father and a worried but approving smile from his mother.

The loudspeakers positioned tactically around the station blared, "Remember, it is your civic duty to alert the City Watch or the Inquisition of any strange, unusual, or suspicious behavior. " After this interruption, the Hyamian national anthem began to play through the speakers.

Standing around this station were nine very unique individuals: Alistair Wolfram, Cornelia Cogburn, Holman Findley, Monad Flynn, Keith Mausier, Rin Eli, Roger Spenceworth, Victoria Vario, and Morgan Sumiden. As of yet, they had not all been introduced, and had very different motivations, dreams, ideals, statuses, and abilities. However, they all shared four similarities: they were all human, they were all alive, they were all waiting for a train, and they all had a part to play in the days to come...

Cornelia, Mausier, and Morgan were all drawing strange looks from the other people, Cornelia for her strange garb, and Morgan and Mausier for their appearances. In fact, there was much whispering among some of the aristocrats, and Morgan and Mausier were able to pick up on the key word of their gossip: "Atollian".

[The SheoDovah]

Victoria Vario the Mage

Victoria had just returned to her homecity of Kimmet an hour ago after a long train journey and planned on visiting her parents in the lower part of the city. She was waiting on the next train and had noticed some things going on around the station. From a preacher talking about high dragons to high class folk swearing under their breath. She didn't like the higher classes on account of a few.... unpleasent incidents involving them during her travels along with a few incidents at her parent's shop. Either way, as long as they didn't bother her, she wouldn't bother them. But she knew better then to abuse the gift of magic. Being locked up was a very good reason to not play magic.

She noticed a few odd people waiting on the people or at least, they must have seemed odd to everyone else in the station but she was more or less used to different sights. She was reading a book about dragons to pass the time.

Hidden:

hope this is ok.

[The-Shadow-One]

Morgan blinked, checking the time before drawing out his pocket watch, matching the time on that. "Lateness.." He hummed, putting the watch once more back in his pocket, he's been checking it every few seconds. His gaze was drawn by the word Atollian, trying to listen in more on them. He brought his hand to his ear, tucking his white hair behind it, maybe a little of magic to tune in better to them. Making mental notes, trying to put voices to names. This could be useful information.

None the less he checks his pocket watch once more. Tapping a foot. "Blast, the one time you want them to be on time and they aren't." He grumbled.

[Aarah]

On the top level of George Lauxan Station, sat Roger Spenceworth. Dressed in a smart grey pinstripe suit, the gentleman read the morning newspaper - his legs crossed and his back straight and proud.

The man who had placed himself on a makeshift pedestal, prophecising of the coming wrath of the dragons, made him scoff out loud. His sound of judgemental mockery was followed by him reaching into his waistcoat pocket. Like many others in the station, he had been periodically checking his pocketwatch for the current time. An audible tut escaped his lips, accompanied by a shake of his head.

Fifteen minutes and still no sign of this train! Whatever could have happened to make it so disgracefully tardy?

Roger returned the watch to his pocket, as his ears caught murmurs and chatter- something about 'Atollians'.
He looked about with mild curiosity, before turning his attention back his newspaper.

[Unionhack]

Alistair impatiently tapped his foot and traced the outline of his disguise mask in his coat pocket. Jobs like this were always high-risk and it was vital that things went according to plan; that included time constraints, and as it was, said constraints were being infringed upon by the train's tardiness.

He gazed about the fellow occupants of the second floor platform, thankful for the lower Watchman presence. The fops of the third floor would be their targets once the train got rolling, but for now he and Cornelia couldn't risk undue attention from the richer folk.

Speaking of Cornelia...

"Do you really have to wear that thing before we even get on board?" he whispered in an aside to his partner-in-crime. "Granted, I'll be doing the talking, but I can't help but feel it puts us in a potentially... compromising situation. Bored eyes fed up with the late train are going to wander, and they're going to fall on you."

[Baloth-Kul]

"Yes." Cornelia deadpanned in reply to Alistair's question. Her ears pricked up at the doomsayer's words, and the ridicule that followed him. Let the world burn. She wouldn't deign to come to the poor man's assistance, but the alchemist silently judged all who partook in his humiliation.

She leaned on her sheathed cane sword, and stared straight ahead at the platform, as if willing the train to arrive at this moment.

[Unionhack]

Alistair paused for a moment from Cornelia's cold reply. "Hm. Fair enough." he replied. He knew better than to question her fashion choices; she wasn't exactly the most stable person after all, and the last thing he wanted to do was antagonize her.

Out of boredom and idleness, Alistair dug a coin out of his pocket and began flipping it.

[Rook]

Morgan

Morgan's magic worked a little too well. He didn't simply augment his hearing, he caused their voices, and every other sound around him, to be projected directly into his ear. Loudly. After a second, Morgan was able to largely filter out the other noise and focus on the aristocrats.

"Thank Luxor for assigned seating." a man's voice said, "I'm meeting with a client, very important man, served under Admiral McDowall in the War, you know. I would prefer not to get white hair all over my new suit, it might sour his mood."

A woman's voice gave a shrill laugh and said, "For the life of me, I don't understand why we let these - these - traitors walk around like they own this country! There should be a law."

A third male voice chimed in, "Forget laws. Monroe should send his fleet out, put those [&@%!] in their place."

"Frank!" the woman feigned being scandalized, barely hiding her laughter.

"I mean it. My family owned mines there, but the rebels took it for themselves. Claimed it was 'theirs by birthright'. Thieves, beggars, and backstabbers, the lot of them. You can't trust one of them to make you a cup of tea, that's what my father always says."

Roger

The foremost article read:

FIRE AT THE KING CUTHBERT MEMORIAL MUSEUM

A museum dedicated to teaching faithful Kimmetians of the bravery and strength of character of one of our greatest monarchs, King Cuthbert, burst into flame at 6:00 PM this past Sunday. Many of the faithful had left church services and found themselves inspired with such holiness that they felt called to pay their respects to the Lord of Light's most loyal servant. It was soon after their arrival that multiple fires started across the museum, both indoors and in the rose garden. The fire quickly spread and engulfed many priceless artifacts and works of art in flame, sending patrons racing out into the streets. Our brave firemen raced to the scene and battled the blasphemous fire with ease. None were killed, but many suffered burns and emotional trauma.

Says Commissioner Frederick Clay of the City Watch, "The fire spread quickly, very quickly. Much was destroyed, and my condolences go out to those suffering. We have not yet ruled out foul play, but we must not jump to conclusions."

Says the honorable Lord-Paladin Myles Lambert, "This was clearly a planned act of terrorism and serious blasphemy. I am personally investigating this matter in the name of the Viceroy and by extension, the Crown. This heinous crime will not go unpunished, believe me."

This humble journalist and The (Illustrated) Kimmit Times express their grief for the loss of so many holy objects and the disrespect of such a holy man. We and the City Watch both urge anyone with information related to this crime to come forward so that justice may be done.

At the top of the article was a photograph of the museum in flames.

Alistair and Cornelia

Alistair's coin spiraled up into the air and landed in his hand every time. Heads. Heads. Heads again. Heads again. Heads again. Heads again. Some of the shabbier individuals watched the coin as it went up and down, up and down. They licked their lips, noticing Alistair's fine dress and health, and their own stained clothing and hunger.

Cornelia did not get her wish. The tracks remained silent, still, and empty.

[Aarah]

Roger

Roger read the article on the fire at the museum, with a face devoid of expression. He stared at the image of the building engulfed in flames for several seconds, before moving his eyes to read other news.

He looked up for a moment and sighed loudly. "For goodness sake, I could have walked to my destination by now!" He exaggerated as a way to voice his annoyance over the situation of the missing train.

[BetaB17]

Rin & Mausier

"Oooh, so many people.. Mausier. N' some of them keep giving ya strange looks?" Rin said, talking over the noise made from the crowd. "Who knew you were so popular, mister shy guy?" She sat on her guardian's shoulders, resting her chin on his head.

Mausier tilted his eyes up, listening to the girl's words. No comment was made, not even an expression, but Rin still continued to talk "You think Vivi is still waiting for us at the next stop? I mean, it is your fault we got off at the wrong station.." She leaned forward, balancing herself on his head so she could look him in the eye "Last time I leave you in charge, huh?" She gave a grin and chuckle to lighten their scene "Sill, Vivi doesn't have to worry one bit anymore! You and I scared away all those bad men, didn't we?!" Mausier just stood there like a statue, his red eyes finally met her's. Suddenly she started to make a pouting face "Nuh-uh! That's not true.. I helped too.. your such a grumpy pants sometimes.. Maus'y.."

Rin returned to her former seat, still pouting. Mausier however, kept his vigilance, simply standing there in the main lobby as they awaited for the delayed train, not a word to be heard

[Kerr]

Monad was standing on the second floor platform with other members of the working class waiting for the train to arrive. Today was a day off work for him and he was currently in the form of the father. He was up earlier than he usually would on a day off, but he wanted to go to the steel district, mostly to just wander around, but was also thinking of gathering some alchemy ingredients. Like many other people on the platform, the nearby woman dressed as a plague doctor caught his attention but his eyes didn't dwell on her for long. Instead he just kept to himself, staring ahead waiting for the train to arrive.

Hidden:

Are days/months the same as our world?

I'll be using he pronouns when Monad's male, she when female and they whenever.

[The-Shadow-One]

Morgan winced, looking over once more. 'Frank... Hm..' He thought to himself, narrowing his eyes as he looked at them. It would be a shame if hair got onto that nice suit.. especially white hair, that'd really stand out won't it? He felt almost mischievous but no. He sighed, shaking his head. "Won't do well to draw attention." He mumbled, glancing at the tracks. "Just where is it." He asked, opening his pocket watch once more, checking the time before snapping it shut impatiently.

[Dirty Spaceman]

Holman Findley's eyes darted around the second-level platform, silently observing the other would-be travellers. He should have been up on the third level, he knew, probing the wealthy for cases; by the looks of it, there were few enough potential clients where he was now. Few with the needs for a private investigator, even fewer with the capital to afford one. Even some, he didn't doubt, who would prefer to actively avoid anyone associated with the enforcement of the law. But he remained where he was, for two reasons.

First, he had no particular need to solicit clients at the moment. Enough people came to him on their own, and besides, this week he had specifically chosen to take it easy, having just recently completed some particularly laborious cases. The only reason he was even here, heading to the Steel District at this hour, was because he had accidentally woken up early and been unable to get back to sleep, and he'd figured he might as well do something productive with his morning. There was a factory there where he wanted to ask some questions for one of his lower-priority cases.

Second, he was a stubborn man, even by his own appraisal. The more time passed, the more likely it became that the train was about to arrive. Or at least, that was the line of reasoning he was doggedly holding on to. Any minute now, he thought indignantly, tapping his foot and wearing an ornery frown. He considered casting out a bit of willpower to see what people were thinking, to pass the time, but he decided against it; he was tired enough this morning as it was, and he doubted that any of these strangers would offer an alternative mood to his own.

[Rook]

Roger

The other articles in the newspaper were signifcantly less interesting. There was the usual essay on how to identify witchcraft and other profanities against Luxor and humanity, numerous advertisements ("The Patriot's Armory: Ask about our new 'Spitfire'!"), and an article on horse racing and betting odds.

Roger's irritated outburst was matched by a portly gentlemen standing nearby, "Indeed, my dear fellow, indeed!" As he spoke, his belly heaved gently and his black mustache quivered, "I aim to give that driver a piece of my mind if he ever arrives. I should be at the factory by now!"

He leaned in conspiratorially to Roger, nudging him with an elbow and saying in a loud whisper, "And we know how those Burkensians are. Indolent but temperamental buggers. Probably playing cards right now, gambling away the very machinery! Why I knew one chap-"

The portly gentleman was cut off by a loud whistle.

Everyone

Heads turned quickly at this new but immediately recognizable phenomenon. There was much clicking and clacking as the train pulled into station. The words "HYAMIAN RAILROAD" were emblazoned in gold letters on its jet black paint. There were many anxious sighs of relief from the workers, and renewed clucking from the gentlemen and ladies as they voiced their displeasure with the whole state of affairs.

The conductor stepped forward and began directing people to board the train, his cap lopsided and his brow sweaty, "We're very sorry for the delay, ladies and gents. Hop on and we'll get you to the Steel District lickety-split. First stop: Bedlam Station."

The first and second coaches, which were also the largest and most comfortable, were reserved for those who had purchased a more expensive ticket. The rest were free for anyone to sit, so long as they had a ticket. The gentlemen and ladies passed the conductor on their way to the first-class seats, voicing their disapproval loudly and looking at him coldly. The workers shuffled into the third coach onward, too relieved yet nervous to complain.

"C'mon, hurry it up!" the conductor motioned to those who had not yet gotten aboard, "First-class to the front, standard to the back."

[Baloth-Kul]

Mechanically, as though it was routine for her, Cornelia marched onto the train, rhythmically tapping her cane sword on the ground. She was tempted to ruffle the feathers of some of these 'ladies and gents', but business came first. Arriving in the third coach, she found as close a seat as she could to the front--as close to the second coach as she could.

[Unionhack]

Alistair flashed a smile as the lower-class citizens looked at his idle flipping. Not to worry... We'll be taking good care of all of you once this is said and done.

His smile grew even wider when the train arrived. Showtime.

Stepping onto the train, Alistair took his seat next to Cornelia and crossed his legs, sitting casually. They would have to wait for the train to get going before the sprung their heist into motion.

[BetaB17]

Rin & Mausier

"Bah.. what's takin' em so long?" Rin said with a rather exaggerated voice of boredom "Any longer 'n I'd be nothin but a withered ole hag.. I don't know how much longer I can last.." Her chin sinked deeper into Mausier's hat, as if the very thought of an eternity of waiting had a gravitational effect on her. In a low, miserable, yet equally adorable voice "...If I die... tell e'veryone.. hands off meh sweets..." She ended her plea by sinking her whole face into his hat, the cushion it provided only helped her display. In small, bubbling noises, she pretended to have drowned beneath the very sea of boredom and delay.

Then, as if it couldn't have come any sooner, the roaring noise stirred the sleeping beauty. Mausier, already in full attention long before it came to its halt, was well aimed at it's incoming direction. "Uhhh.. Bout bloody time! I thought they'd never show up!" The young girl said with a rage, both arms extended high as if the same. A red glare of eyes shifted north for a time before resetting on the scene, but beneath his coat no word was said. As in some reply, the girl spoke "I know, right?! Who'd tha hell do they think they are being so tardy an'' such? How dare they? An' not even a complimentary excuse at dat? Mmmph"

As his companion went on her little rant, Mausier stood idle as the more posh individuals boarded. He could not help but note the odd stranger in the plaque mask, but as always he had nothing to say of it. Instead he just patiently waited for their time to board while Rin ranted about, standing not too far from a certain detective or others amongst this floor

[Kerr]

When the train finally arrived Monad was relieved, he was starting to think it might have been canceled. He boarded the third coach of the train and took a seat.

[The SheoDovah]

Victoria Vario

Victoria heard the train pull into the station and slowly got up with her book in her hand. She entered one of the third class carriages and sat down by a window. She did love sitting near windows on trains as the scenery was always interesting to watch.

[Dirty Spaceman]

Holman entered the third coach, and sat down in the first empty seat he saw. Once he was settled, he took his notebook out from his pocket and began to review his notes for the current case. Not a lot of info to go on yet; that was why he needed to ask some questions at the factory.