Play@YSDC

There are nine tables covered in white with gleaming dishes all laid out as though in preparation for a banquet. In the middle of each table sits a vase of flowers, each a different colour, and each looks quite magnificent but for the one in the middle which is dry and brittle, casting dropped petals to the doily underneath and staining it yellow. There are white stargazer lilies, white chrysanthemums, gladioli and white roses. There are menus sitting out on every table, showing the usual sort of station fare and a reasonable selection of cocktails that are perhaps a little to posh for a location like this.

There's a bar to one side, with a cash register upon it beside a telephone, and behind that bar stands a door which presumably leads into the kitchens. A dented piano stands to one side, as well as another fireplace, and a wireless set has pride of place beside it. There's only a tiny scrap of a dance floor but it appears well-scuffed and well-used.

Mechanical Repair to fix the piano tune,notices that there are letters pressed between the workings beneath the lid.

Forensics,identifies that the piano hasn't been moved which suggests that the piano wasn't bumped, rather some weight pressed down upon it at two points that are suspiciously the right size and shape for human hands. The front door was burst open from the inside after several heavy smacks by a large blunt object, likely a human-shaped (or placed) shoulder.

Art History,finds that the flowers here are all sympathy and funerary flowers. A white stargazer lily symbolizes sympathy and any type of white lily expresses majesty and purity. White carnations stand for pure love and innocence. Particularly in some European countries, Korea, and Japan, the white chrysanthemum is symbolic of death, lamentation, and grief. A fan spray of gladioli is a classic and elegant arrangement for traditional funeral services. The gladiolus embodies strength of character, sincerity, and moral integrity. A white rose evokes reverence, humility, innocence, and youthfulness.

• Station Platform (broken down).
  Main Waiting Room (locked).

"Alright, through here," Arty said as he saw the broken door emerge from the fog as he took a few steps closer to the dark shape that was the station. As he closed the distance, he could see the door was broken about handle and locking mechanism and it sat askew from the hinges. "Hmhm, he said as he careful worked his way through the opening.

Kate follows Artemis into the restaurant and shines her torch around. She goes over to the piano first and examines the damage. Lifting the lid slightly, she notices something underneath and pulls out some letters. "Let's see what we've got here," she says, looking through them.

Jonathan looks around and whispers: "The flowers... are they for us?", he then shakes his head to dispel his bad mood, and heads to where Kate is examining the letters.

"At this point, I don't know how to answer who those might be for," Artemis said with a frustrated uncertainty. "Miss Kate, any thoughts? Or should we go check behind that door?"

Arty pointed towards the door to what seemed to be the kitchen. "Another thought would be to call someone for some help in all of this."

Jonathan tries to make sense of the letters: "So... every time a new train arrives... is an iteration, perhaps? What do you think? Is this some kind of distorted game, or what?"

"Not sure what they mean, not sure at all," Artemis said as he looked about the room again. "Miss Kate,
should we try to get back into the main part of the station?"

"That would be my guess," Kate says to Jonathan. "I think the restaurant just puts flowers out on all the tables to please their customers. I don't know why the one in the middle is different." She turns to Artemis. "I already called for the Home Guard earlier from the ticket office, but who knows how long it will take them to get here? Let's check the kitchen first."

"Kitchen it is then," Artemis agreed and with walking stick in hand, he headed to what appeared to be the door into the kitchen area. He looked back over his shoulder. When the others were nearby and appeared ready, he tried the door's handle.

Jonathan unhappily takes position next to Artemis. "Let's go, then".

Kate follows, scalpel in hand. "At least this time there won't be anyone in there who wants to eat us," she says. "Probably."

"That can be our hope," Artemis chuckled and tried the door handle to open the door.

He held his breath as he shook the handle slightly to see if it was locked, or if it gave.

[Spoiler-Button]Adding to bump this up![/Spoiler-Button]

The door is locked.

OOC,sorry I had to look for the USB that contained the document with all of the rooms because I'd had to save all the files across from a different computer. After all that ... it turns out the door is locked. I have the file now so we can proceed at a decent clip.

"Bloody hell, it's locked, of course it's locked," Artemis said as he shook his head. "No one by any chance happened to see a key anywhere in this place?"

Kate shakes her head. "It's a shame Mr. Hagan isn't here," she says. "He can pick locks. I don't suppose either of you can? I could probably break it open, but that would make noise and could draw unwanted attention."

The hinges are, unfortunately, on the other side. Breaking the door would be an option. There's also a good chance there'd be a back door to allow people to make deliveries or quietly slip outside after hours without disturbing the customers. While that door may well be locked, too, where there are doors, there may also be windows.

"Sadly, if it was a lorrey I could fix that, but pick a lock, didn't learn that at the front," Artemis said with a touch of frustration. He looked about the room. "Do we try to find some other way to get in there?"

"Yes, let's check round the back," says Kate. "They must have a rear entrance for taking deliveries. Even if that door's locked too, there's bound to be a window."

"Agreed, agreed," Artemis said and as he turned he felt the contraction of the muscles on the left side of neck and lower jaw. He walked back across the room and back towards the broken door.

Kate follows him.

The man hits a discordant note as his name is casually dropped. Then he looks over at them with a too-bright smile and . "You do realise that if you spend too much time away from the warmth, you'll never be warm again, don't you? So best eat, drink and be merry ... provided you find any food or drink."

"You seem to know more about what's happening here than you're letting on," says Kate. "Please explain it to the rest of us."

Arty followed up behind the other two and he just found it too odd to see Mr. Morgan there in a now functioning restaurant. He slid to off the light of his torch, slipping the shiny metal into his pocket with the wider, flared top pointing up. He didn't say anything, but rather his free hand came to rest on top of the other that held his cane.

"You were a passenger once, right, Mr. Morgan? Cheering on the others who ended up trapped in this nightmare. What happened then?", Jonathan presses on, hoping to gain as much information as possible.

Morgan stares at the piano for a long moment then says, "Find me a bottle of alcohol first. Then I'll tell you. Or food, perhaps."

(OOC: The Oral History spend plus your previous use of his name and situation unlocks the Storytime option but you'll need some leverage first.)

"Sure," says Kate. "There should be something in the kitchen."

Morgan shakes his head. "Yeah, that's not at all how this works. I stay in the well-lit rooms whenever I can. You want me to talk, you get me the food I need to survive."

"Okay," says Kate. "We'll go get it for you."

"Fine, sure, we can see what they might have for you to drink, not going to make a meal though," Arty said with an obvious level of frustration. There was something that just didn't sit with him right when he heard the guy bargain for information.

He turned and stepped back to the door of the kitchen. He shifted his walking stick, opened the door, and looked about to see if anything looked to be alcohol.

[To Kitchen]

Kate follows Artemis back into the kitchen.

Jonathan remains in the restaurant, keeping an eye on the man, as if fearing he'll disappear if left unchecked.

There's a bottle of cooking sherry in the back of the pantry and a small bag of carrots that look a little withered and old lying in the small cooler.

"Ok, carrots and sherry, not the best of either drink or food, but here, something to eat and drink," Arty said as he took one of the withered carrots and bit off a piece of one. 'Now, explain this place."

"Best we can do, I'm afraid," says Kate. "There is a war on."

He takes the carrots and the sherry, eyeing them hungrily. The man clearly hasn't eaten well in awhile. He doesn't speak until after he has consumed two of the carrots, then looks up at them. "You wanted to know things about what's happening? I don't know what to tell you other than it's been happening for a long time now. For me it's been ... maybe a couple weeks ... but when I check the dates on the tickets and the luggage labels it's been longer than that. Most people seem to be swept up from this station. I was on the train when it first came in. We wondered why it didn't keep moving but then we checked the engine room and we saw ... something you won't want to see. We sent a few people out for help when it became clear that the train wasn't moving and the telegraph wasn't operational but they never came back. So we had to figure it out ourselves."

"We managed to get the telegraph working earlier," says Kate. "I sent out a message to the Home Guard alerting them to what we knew."

"Why this place, what is the purpose of the train?" Arty asked. He wanted to wait, wanted to have the explanation proceed more conversational, but he was tired and that reverberated through his voice as he asked his questions. He sat the torch on a table, and then his walking stick. "What role does this station play?"

"I don't know but I don't think we were the first here. There were signs that others had been here, had died at the station. I *do* think we're the first train to stop here, though, and the train itself just never continued onward. Or perhaps it's simply that I survived and that for so long as I survive this train can't leave and no other train can arrive? Doubtful, though, we would have heard if empty ghost trains were trundling up the track to other stations. You see signs of the other deaths, on occasion, but they're not always *here*. It's almost as though there are slivers of potential rooms, or existing rooms, or some such, that we are winding between. Sometimes they are lit up and safe, sometimes they are not. Sometimes there will be a corpse. Sometimes there is no corpse at all. I know that it isn't simply the station's imagination, so to speak, as I've met some of those who later become corpses and I occasionally find their corpse again and again."

"I keep to the well-lit spaces, the warm spaces and I stay alive as best I can. I've explained this rather weary tale so often that I tire of it. I grow bored. I know you will be too wrapped up in the desire to escape to remain with me here and ... besides ... it's harder to share food with a half dozen than with one." He says this last bit calmly, as though it were simple reasonable fact.

"Do you know what a psycholocational sink is?" asks Kate.

"Sounds like a question for the station manager or operator or whoever he is. He's often babbling with weird terminology like that." He leans back on his chair, eyeing them off. "You guys are planning to find a way out, aren't you? Yeah, I can see the look in your eyes. I had that look in my own eye for awhile until something came and dug it out."

"It is my duty as an officer and a gentleman to try to escape," says Kate, affecting a deep voice for that line before returning it to normal. "What came and dug the look out of your eye?"

"Everyone died but me," he said softly. "Originally I was trying to keep everyone ... not happy, exactly. I was trying to keep morale high when we first arrived. I'd keep everyone away from the doors and we kept to groups no smaller than three. The Train Manager became *different* first. We found him etching symbols into his chest in one of the upper class bathrooms. After that he became quiet, then slipped into a coma, then he woke up he was changed. When he attacked us, it took five men to hold him down and that was only after he managed to gut three of us. The rest fled and scattered. I don't know what became of those five men. I tried to collect everyone else. We assembled in the waiting room and were safe for awhile. I didn't know about how the hearths ... candles, lights, fireplaces ... how they meant the room would be safe. But we sensed it. We sent people out in small groups. The water was fine for awhile. Then it started making people vomit. A few died of dehydration, then starvation. Those that weren't picked off by those *things*. It seems food and drink does appear in here, sporadically. Perhaps because this place is still in use and sometimes things *pass over* to us. Or perhaps there really is weird time stuff happening here and occasionally food and drink just drops in from elsewhere. I don't know."

"The conductor on the train must have been one of the ones who changed," says Kate with a shiver. "How long have you been in this mess? What was the date when it started for you?"

Arty listened and as he did so, he started to have a feeling that there was not going to be a simple answer. There was also something odd about the man's story and his resignation to being a survivor of one. Something just didn't sit right with Arty. "Wonder if anyone actually got that telegraph Ms. Kate? Hmh, what was the date you pulled into the Station?"

His question echoed her's, but he felt that he needed to hear an answer and didn't want their new colleague to stray from the current line of questioning.

"The third of September, 1939. 7PM, roughly. I don't know how long it's been. We don't exactly have a real day-night cycle here. Sometimes there's fog and a vague kinda light, sometimes no light at all."

"That's the very day we declared war on Germany!" says Kate. "I still remember Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain going on the wireless to announce it at eleven that morning. Well, former Prime Minister. It's Winston Churchill now, and thank God we've got him. It can't be a coincidence that this began that same day. Today is 13th November, 1940 - or at least it was when I got here. Would you like to know what's been going on in the outside world while you've been here?"

Arty whistled when he heard the arrival date of the train. He shook his head slightly from side to side and then looked back at the man as Ms. Kate asked him if he wanted to know what had taken place over the past 14 months. Arty didn't disbelieve the man and what he said, it actually seemed right with all that they had encountered.

"So, maybe we should carry this conversation in the waiting room, with the fireplace and all, it might be a safer location if what he's saying is on the level," Arty looked about the place they were at and then back at the newcomer.

Jonathan has kept silent so far. After prompting the man to talk, he was more than happy to leave leading the conversation to Kate. But there's something bugging him, now. "Did anyone try to just walk away? In the fog?", he asks, abruptly.

"It doesn't feel like that much time has passed," he says, confused. "Feels more like six weeks or so. I stopped counting but ... over a year? It couldn't be." In response to the walking away question: "Yeah, they did. They never got very far and later when people passed by there they'd find streaks of blood and other parts...."

He looks around the room and its candles. "The safe room changes but they've always got something lit up. This room is safe for now. The lounge car isn't anymore."

"Well, let me quickly go over what you've missed," says Kate, hearing no objection. "On 17th September 1939, the Soviet Union invaded Poland from the east. We didn't go to war with them too, as we had our hands quite full with Germany. They've been helping Germany indirectly, supplying them with oil and the like. It didn't take them long to carve up Poland. Then there were several long months of not very much happening. We called it the Phoney War. Meanwhile, the Soviets invaded Finland, but the Finns were tougher than they'd thought. That was the Winter War. In March they signed a peace treaty ending that war. The Soviets gained some territory that used to be part of Finland. Then on 9th April, Germany invaded Denmark and Norway. Denmark fell in hours. Norway lasted longer, and we sent some troops to help out there, but it was a disaster. Chamberlain was forced out because of that. A lot of people thought Halifax would replace him, but he bowed out in favour of Churchill, and just in time. That was 10th May. That same day, Germany invaded the Low Countries. Our expeditionary force advanced to meet them in Belgium, but it was a trap. They somehow got their armour through the Ardennes and hit Sedan, then cut around behind our army. They were completely surrounded at Dunkirk, backs to the sea, and it looked like there was no escape. But then a miracle happened. Just about every seaworthy small craft in southern England was sent to help evacuate the army and get them to the Royal Navy vessels waiting offshore.

"After that, Norway finally fell, and France soon followed. Italy jumped into the war shortly before that and tried to invade France, but they didn't achieve much. Unfortunately, Germany more than made up for it. They occupied northern France and put Petain in charge of the rest of it as their puppet. The Soviets were busy too, taking over Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. Germany took the Channel Islands at the end of June, and it looked like they were going to invade us next. Only the RAF and the Royal Navy stood in their way. The Battle of Britain began in July. The RAF took a lot of losses, but they managed to hold on and win against the Luftwaffe. Then, on 7th September, they started bombing London. They've been hitting it hard almost every single night since then. They think they can break us, but they can't. There'll be no invasion this year, not now the weather's turned. We're safe until spring. I do hope we're out of here by then."

"Yea, it's been a lot, the world seems to have gone off its tracks, again." Arty's tone was more reflective, hesitant like remembering something that was not really wanting to be remembered. He shook his head and turned back to the newcomer, "You got any way for all of us to get out of this trap, friend?"

He took out the silver coin he found and began to spin it on its edge on the bar. He watched it and when it began to slow and wobble, he stopped it, then sent it in motion again.

Jonathan feels nauseous. "There's probably none, don't you think? Otherwise he would have fled by now", he states with just an hint of bitterness in his voice. "I say we just try to burn everything down. The station, maybe even the train if possible. There's got to be some fuel, or alcohol, somewhere. Won't save us, but if we do enough damage, it might save the next unlucky bunch".

"I don't think it's as simple as that," says Kate. "There's got to be a way out of here. If we all work together, we can find it."

"I gotta say, simple would be nice, really nice after all of that," Arty said as he waived at the distance. He had a slight twitch that rolled across the left of his neck and his shoulder.

"I'd say there was a purpose to what happened here," said the man. "Surely it's here for a reason ... but whatever that reason is, I've no idea. I've wondered if perhaps the reason were only half-fulfilled, or if it were some devil's pact that made things how they are, twisted what was meant to be into this, but I'm not sure. I try to dart between safe spaces and keep out of such investigations. It is how I have lived so long while the others who come here ... while they have died or disappeared."

"If there's a purpose to this place," says Kate. "maybe there's a purpose to us being here. Maybe there's something we need to do here."

"If you can figure out how you got here, that may be another route to figuring out who you can leave," he agreed. "But please, remain with me awhile. There's no need to go so soon...." He gives her a look that may be flirtatious, or just desperate for human company. He seems to have warmed to them now, a little at least.

"I agree, we need to stick together," says Kate. "Too many people have disappeared because we got separated. I got dropped off here in a car I shared with Ilona Aston. I followed her into the waiting room through the blackout curtain, and we were in the waiting room. That's how we arrived. Things were already weird. There were some odd objects in the room, and the Station Master wasn't responding to knocks on his office door."

"From what others have told me, they always found the station empty or nearly so and the weather is often cold and foggy," said the man, looking thoughtful. "I - I'm sorry. I never realised how foggy my own memories are. Or … have I realised this before? Have I…?" He rubs at his temples.

The lights in the train car flicker ominously.

His head snaps up. "This place will not be safe much longer."

"Right," says Kate. "Where can we go that is?"

He sighs in frustration. "It's not that simple. There's no pattern to it that I can make out but I do know that the more people who pack into a safe area, the less time it remains safe. Normally I can spend hours in such a place, even manage to sleep, but now with all of you here the restaurant car is about to become problematic. Look, we should hurry elsewhere. Places that were safe become distinctly unsafe moments later."

"Okay," says Kate. "Let's head to the waiting room, then. If that's not safe, we can get anywhere else in the building from there."

"Good plan, and we can see the lights in the train car if another one of these carriages becomes safe," he said.

The other nodded their agreement.

There's no door from the restaurant car but there is one in the little section that connects the two train cars together. The door opens easily onto the platform.

Kate heads out onto the platform.

There are nine tables covered in white with gleaming dishes all laid out as though in preparation for a banquet. In the middle of each table sits a vase of flowers, each a different colour, and each looks quite magnificent but for the one in the middle which is dry and brittle, casting dropped petals to the doily underneath and staining it yellow. There are white stargazer lilies, white chrysanthemums, gladioli and white roses. There are menus sitting out on every table, showing the usual sort of station fare and a reasonable selection of cocktails that are perhaps a little to posh for a location like this.

There's a bar to one side, with a cash register upon it beside a telephone, and behind that bar stands a door which presumably leads into the kitchens. A dented piano stands to one side, as well as another fireplace, and a wireless set has pride of place beside it. There's only a tiny scrap of a dance floor but it appears well-scuffed and well-used.

**There's a small stack of books here now on one of the tables ranging in topics from horticulture to backyard gardens to flow arranging.**

Mechanical Repair to fix the piano tune,notices that there are letters pressed between the workings beneath the lid.

Forensics,identifies that the piano hasn't been moved which suggests that the piano wasn't bumped, rather some weight pressed down upon it at two points that are suspiciously the right size and shape for human hands. The front door was burst open from the inside after several heavy smacks by a large blunt object, likely a human-shaped (or placed) shoulder.

Art History,finds that the flowers here are all sympathy and funerary flowers. A white stargazer lily symbolizes sympathy and any type of white lily expresses majesty and purity. White carnations stand for pure love and innocence. Particularly in some European countries, Korea, and Japan, the white chrysanthemum is symbolic of death, lamentation, and grief. A fan spray of gladioli is a classic and elegant arrangement for traditional funeral services. The gladiolus embodies strength of character, sincerity, and moral integrity. A white rose evokes reverence, humility, innocence, and youthfulness.

• Station Platform (broken down).
  Main Waiting Room (locked).

"Those books weren't here before," says Kate, examining the stack. "I wonder if the beast book is among them, but most of them seem to be about plants."

"Things change over time," he said. "Most of what comes holds strange hints as to what is truly happening ... but it'd take one hell of a mind to decipher them."

NB: You could likely use these books to better understand the flowers currently in this room - allowing you access to Art History - but it'd require a bit of time.

"I like to think I'm smart," says Kate. "Since things change, those books could be gone again if we leave and come back. Maybe we should take the time so I can look through the books and see if they can help me understand the meaning of the flowers on the tables."

"You're right that they may be useful later on," he said. "I recall one guest here who said he found something that had vases of flowers but he wasn't sure which was which. He was quite obsessed by it. Eventually he decided just to try it and see.... That was the last I ever saw of him." He heads behind the bar. "Let's see if they have anything to drink here...."

Studying the books,finds that the flowers here are all sympathy and funerary flowers. A white stargazer lily symbolizes sympathy and any type of white lily expresses majesty and purity. White carnations stand for pure love and innocence. Particularly in some European countries, Korea, and Japan, the white chrysanthemum is symbolic of death, lamentation, and grief. A fan spray of gladioli is a classic and elegant arrangement for traditional funeral services. The gladiolus embodies strength of character, sincerity, and moral integrity. A white rose evokes reverence, humility, innocence, and youthfulness.

He comes around the bar with a plate that has a jam sandwich on it. "It looks like someone's hidden lunch fell through. Did you want some?"

"Cheers!" says Kate. "I don't think I've eaten since I arrived. It may not look like much, but living on the ration, I've come to appreciate even the simplest of meals. Oh, that's right, you arrived here before the rationing started. The flowers at the tables are all for funerals." She explains what she learned from the books.

He splits the sandwich in half and passes it to her before absolutely devouring the one he holds. Finally he says, "Should we take one of each? In case this vase situation is as the man suggested?"

"Thank you," says Kate, also eating her sandwich half gratefully and quickly. "Yes, let's take one of each type of flower. I think the white rose best represents me."

"I don't know the meaning of the white rose, but I think it suits you too just by the looks of it," he said, and helped her select one from every type. "So ... the kitchen then?"

"Right," says Kate. "Let's proceed to the kitchen."

He opens the door to the Kitchen and gestures for her to enter.