Cortex Steampunk Game: Episode 1: Red Dress, Cold Ground

[WickedCadrach]

On 07/03/2026 at 23:42, Chiyako said:

"Or perhaps I should say that it would not protect my heart from a wooden stake."

Missy met Alicia's albino stare, her gaze flitting down as the moon caught on the point of the vampire's small, sharp tooth. For a moment, she didn't react. 

In the dark, on an empty street between the cold alleys and the wind-stirred copse of trees on the hill, Missy could feel a finger of doubt pressing at the back of her mind--a small, still 'what if?' that hung in the space between that pointed fang and the smaller woman's smiling lips. But as Alicia looked away, the spell was broken. Missy blinked, a street cat somewhere in the distance hissed, and then, reaching up to cover her mouth, Missy let out a half-smothered laugh. 

"Stakes. Lord have mercy, Alicia. If I didn't know any better, I'd say there's a part of you that likes the idea that people think you're some creature of the night. Danger and all." With a small sway in her step, Missy gently bumped her shoulder against the other woman's, drawing her gaze back to properly return the smile. "It's not a bad thing. In fact, I think I like that about you. Real monsters don't make it so obvious. So what else am I to conclude than that you must not be a monster?"

On 07/03/2026 at 23:42, Chiyako said:

"You might wish to leave me here. I would rather not sully your reputation, or risk your getting harmed. People might have something to say about the young woman who involves herself with a monster."

At this Missy merely waved a hand, reaching down and adjusting the lay of her skirt as she lifted the hem away from an insidious-looking puddle in the road. 

"I make my living on a stage where I consort with specters, ghosts, demons, and boogies of all kinds. The people who want to run me out of town for 'consorting with monsters' have plenty of ammunition already. Maybe that's the trick of it though. I'm on a stage. Perhaps if you were in bright lights instead of hiding in that laboratory of yours, they might learn to embrace you." No sooner were the words out than Missy remembered the image of Alicia on the stage in the Rebirth Hall. She winced and shook her head, glancing to the woods once more to deflect the momentary embarrassment.

When Jack Beckett stepped from the shadows, Missy started and her hand instinctively took hold of Alicia's arm before she recognized the mortician. 

"There was a murder at the music hall tonight." Hurriedly relaying the bloody stage and Silas Ward's end at the hands of the phantom, Missy added, "Alicia tried to help. We were just attempting to get her a change of clothes before heading to the Golden Stag." Chewing her lip, Missy looked between Jack and Alicia. "Perhaps it would be better if you didn't go anywhere they were expecting you... Maybe not for a couple of days. I may have something that would fit you back in my room at the Lincoln Palace. It's actually not far. Jack, would you escort us?"

Spoiler

If Alicia or Jack oppose the plan, Missy feels strongly enough that I'd like to roll to convince them. 

[Chiyako]

Missy was not completely wrong, and Alicia answered her pondering aloud with a slight grin. It helped sometimes to be thought of as a monster. Some of the people who might normally assault someone like her were also superstitious or simply afraid of the monsters of myth. Fear could be leveraged against even a mob of people. Sometimes that benefit outweighed the negatives. Alas, it often times was what got her into trouble in the first place! That and the experiments.

The little bump to her shoulder was unexpected, and nearly threw her off her step, although it was not unwelcomed either. It was the sort of thing people did with one another when they were on friendly terms. She knew that much. If it had been a proper shove then Alicia would have probably lost her balance. One of the downsides of being shorter. It generally meant less mass, especially so in Alicia's case for she was also rather thin.

"An interesting way to look at it. But then a monster who is confident enough in their own abilities might make it obvious. Or one who is foolish enough to think their abilities are enough."

She did have a point when it came to those sorts of people. If they would run Alicia out of town they might try to do the same for someone like Missy. Maybe not with the same level of commitment, but it was something they shared all the same. The thought reminded Alicia that she still had to research into how Missy did what they did. She was interested in Missy for the same reason she was interested in Mister Carlo.

"A stage?" Alicia pondered, glancing down over herself. A soft giggle escaped from her. "I think it will be some time before anyone would rather see me up on a stage. No, I much prefer the safety of my laboratory. Tonight proves that it is where I belong."

When Alicia noticed movement she immediately stopped and pushed a hand into one of the concealed pockets of her skirt, the other holding Carlo's coat against her body. She had only time enough to thumb over the ivory handle of a small derringer before she recognized the figure and, just as importantly, the voice it belonged to. A moment was taken to compose herself, and to withdraw her hand from her pocket. It gave her enough time to get her accent in order.

"Jack Beckett. Good evening. You are a sight for sore eyes."

Alicia went quiet, allowing Missy to relay the information. It gave her a break from speaking, which was always appreciated. This was another reason she tended not to go out. Her accent, around the wrong people, could be used to trace where she came from, to learn more of her past. Of course some of the rumors had already caught up to her, but not everything, and she would keep it that way for as long as she could.

"Men ahead" she mumbled, casting her gaze towards the woods between them and her home. "Undoubtedly the work of Aldert Helsink."

Missy's suggestion turned her smile into a flat line. It was a good one. The right move, given everything. But it also meant being away from her laboratory for longer than she would hope for. Even so, if she wanted to make a move for it then it would be better to do so during the day, and perhaps even with an escort. She took a minute to ponder whether there might be any other way to move forward, to instead continue on their path.

"My experiments will need to wait then. A shame, but it is for the better. Let us make haste for the Lincoln Palace" she finally spoke, a slight smile returning to her lips. "A change of clothes will be appreciated. I would like to keep the coat though. There are some solvents I wish to test."

What sort of clothes might she have in mind?

[MagnificentBastard]

On 08/03/2026 at 11:29, IsabellaRose said:

Across town, the Golden Stag Casino glowed with warm lamplight, its velvet and polished brass a stark contrast to the chaos left behind at the music hall. TIAL-V stood beside and a step behind Edmund Blackwood, posture impeccable, voice calm as ever while he delivered his report.

“Regarding Sheriff Joshua Thane,” the automaton said, hands folded behind his back. “He has held the position for approximately one year. Publicly, he is regarded as a decisive authority figure with strong support among the rail interests and the mining syndicates. Privately, however, there are numerous reports, unsubstantiated but persistent, regarding his treatment of women in his custody or under his protection.” The automaton paused before continuing with clinical precision. 

“There are allegations of intimidation, coercion, and forced compliance. None have resulted in formal charges.” He tilted his head slightly, as if accessing another layer of information.

“Two women in particular are worth noting. Both disappeared within the last three years. Both were last known to have been under Sheriff Thane’s supervision shortly before their disappearance.” He took another brief pause. “My analysis places the probability that Sheriff Thane is responsible for their disappearance at sixty-three percent.”

Within moments of the report being delivered, the doors of the Golden Stag opened again, admitting another visitor. Aldert Helsink entered with several men right behind him. He paused by the doorway as if for dramatic effect, and then approached Edmund with the poise of a nobleman entering a drawing room rather than a saloon. His men remained near the door or headed toward the bar. He inclined his head in a courteous bow, one hand resting lightly over his chest.

“Mr. Blackwood,” he said in a smooth European accent, “permit me first to extend my apologies for the… unpleasantness earlier this evening.” His eyes flicked briefly toward TIAL-V before returning to Edmund.

“You must understand that my actions were motivated entirely by concern for the safety of this town. The young lady in question is… dangerous. Far more dangerous than she appears.” He spread his hands lightly, as though offering a simple truth. “But do not worry. I will prove it to you before I make accusations again. In time you and everyone in this town will understand my caution and my hunt. When you do, you will gladly assist in ensuring that such a creature is handled properly.”

His smile was courteous. “And permanently.”

Edmund’s expression remained a placid mask, but TIAL-V’s report landed like a lead weight in his gut. Sixty-three percent. The cold, analytical number was far more chilling than any rumor. Even a thirty six percent that would be an unacceptably high number.

His first, primal instinct was to leave immediately and find Jane Montgomery, to wrench her from Thane's grasp. But that impulse was violently shoved aside as the doors swung open and Aldert Helsink strode in, flanked by his grim-faced entourage. The hunt for Jane would have to wait; a different predator had just entered his territory.

A flicker of his eyes towards TIAL-V was the only signal needed.

"Track him down, you took her under your care and therefore mine" Edmund murmured, his voice a low, private command meant only for the automaton.

"The sheriff is a dangerous man. I want to know where he is and most importantly if Miss Montgomery is safe." The words were a bitter pill, Edmund did not care much for truth, but he feared young woman's life was in danger.

As Helsink approached, Edmund’s gaze drifted past the man, catching the eyes of two of his girls near the bar. A subtle, almost imperceptible nod was all it took. They understood their cue, their practiced smiles widening as they began to drift towards Helsink's men, their movements promising distraction and company.

A charming, disarming smile spread across Edmund's face as he turned his full attention to his guest.

"Lord Blackwood," he repeated with a deep, theatrical laugh, the sound rich and warm.

"Please, my friend, it is simply Edmund. We save such titles for the opera houses in London, not for gambling halls in the west."

He gestured expansively to the lavish room around them. "But I do understand your concerns. A man must be vigilant."

He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a more intimate, yet still audible, level. "However, in my considerable experience, there is no such thing as a dangerous woman. Only... misunderstood ones. And they are often the most interesting." Straightening up, his voice boomed with practiced hospitality.

"But talk of such grim matters is no way to spend an evening! Bartender! A round of the Stag's finest whiskey for Mr. Helsink and his men and myself, on the house!"

He watched them accept the drinks, a predator's calculation hidden behind a host's smile. Let them drink, he thought. Let their senses dull and their tongues loosen. Alcohol and women were  the finest ways to unlock a man's secrets, and Helsink looks like a man with a great many of them.

[AsBloodTurnsEverCold]

Kojo wasn't bothered by the scent of blood. He'd smelled it plenty though it was never pleasant. His eyes cast to the prints pointed to him. Phantoms didn't make imprints which was a reassuring fact but as he continued to stare, as his eyes adjusted to the dark more the mystery only deepened more. He knew the system of pulleys and he knew the material they tended to use for them. Rope was the most common but the cables didn't look like rope. Newfangled steel cables was all the rage too. It didn't snap as easily but it did tend to glint in the light at times. These cables didn't look like either of those. There were ways to make them more invisible but these were....something else. 

He recalled the speed with which the phantom rose but....that meant someone else was pulling the string right? These didn't work on their own. Two people? Why would two people have it out for Silas? It felt like the mystery only deepened.

Stage hands used them often or they were used with props. The illusion, of course, of flight and dreams but these were different. This place had the money of multiple wealthy backers and yet? He'd never seen these before. He practiced with the stage hands and knew the material. He'd never seen this before. How did anyone set this up without him knowing? 

His eyes moved downward to more prints and he followed them in silence and wondering until he found yet another clue. It was a mass of those cables and plugs he'd never seen. He could tell they were removed from their origin. He traced them more to find the web and his eyes widened. How? How had anyone set this up? It couldn't have been set up in a single moment and yet none of them know? His mind poured over the possibilities. He ran through his memories but he wasn't always with the stage hands especially when enmeshed in practice or at home. Someone had managed to do this under their noses. This wasn't theirs. He moved to possibly correct it when he heard...her. He knew that voice and he knew that tone. He'd been in contact and contract with the woman it belonged to for many years now and always always her tone of voice caused the feeling at the base of his skull to intensify even if just a little. 

He moved to the edge of the catwalk and looked down to see her, peering down to meet a familiar gaze. Kirsa. His employer. It seemed she wanted him down and to leave it to these fools but what would they know about this? He looked back in Billy and Carter's direction "I'll be down in one moment Kirsa. I know the theater better than our...distinguished lawman. It would be prudent of me to have a proper look." he spoke downward, projecting his voice loud enough to be heard. He knew the acoustics of the theater well. His accent shifted to being more in line with her own, foreign. German. It wasn't as though he had to twist his accent when speaking to her the same way he did with others.  He wanted another look.  

If it was quick it would be quick but he'd look again. Someone managed to set this up under their noses but he wanted to see if it was a professional job or if it was the work of an amateur or someone really knew what they were doing and they had managed to get up here unnoticed for the most part. Where did the blood actually come from? He had to at least know how they got up here. 

He just had to take one more look around. 
 

Spoiler

Kojo feels strongly enough about taking one more look that I'd like to roll to convince them to allow it if they oppose.