The marshal starts a bit at the sudden motion. He levels his strange gyromounted sixshooter at the thing's face.

"Now, there will be no more of that. If you don't behave yourself, I'll let these folk finish what they started."

The corpse man looks up at the barrel of the gun and grins at him. "Oh, what a waste that would be, sir. But then, you know all about waste, wouldn't you? Your whole life has been one, after all. A waste, from start to finish, and whatever glory you think you've snatched for yourself will blow away and vanish like dust in the wind."

Evans doesn't seem fazed by its words. "Right. Well, then, Mr. Mechanical Man. Let us avaunt ourselves from this dismal street and put this miscreant where he belongs. And as for the rest of you," he says, turning his attention to the gathered people, "I bid you good evening, and I hope that this ugly incident will not disturb your sleep over much. And, if any of you are interested, I might have some work available for those who display such a courageous bent and willingness to accept the fantastic as yourselves. Speak to me tomorrow if you wish to pursue this further."

John looked at the strange sheriff then glanced at the construct and the demon posessed corpse and then the other people who had been pulled into the situation and shakes his head. "Well don't this beat all." he says with a small smile and an equally small chuckle. He thrusts his hands into the pockets of his duster and shrugs "Ready when you are sir." he says to the man and moves to follow once everyone else gets moving.

Alouette doesn't recognise itself in the lawman's words, but will follow, since that's the last he asked of it, though not without mechanically patient insistence:

"Miscreant is demon, value:spirit, not he, value:corpse, needs excorcise."
The construct pauses to make sure O'Rourke is coming too - it may stop completely or start following the priest if he's not. "Priest needed...why priest before vanish? alternate: silence?"

Remaining quiet, Charging Bear watches the scene play out like some strange rodeo show before him. The rain dances along his hair and down his CSA jacket, which by the point is very much soaked. He looks down to the twin tomahawks in his hands and slowly shakes his head. Trying to be a hero again? Taking a moment to slips the pair of wicked weapons into leather loops in his leggings, which appears designed to hold such an item, he begins to move towards the sheriff's office.

Robert nods at the sherrif's words  [Private to GM: Specifically, the works he whispered] and follows to the sherrif's office.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:44, Mon 30 Nov 2009.

"I reckon, uh, friend machine wants someone to exorcise the poor bastard, too," August calls after the marshal.  He barely suppresses a shiver as the rain continues to beat down all around them.

The marshal nods. "I think I gathered that. And I may well let it, if I can determine whether this poor man is possessed or deranged. I have a device which may be helpful with that procedure, and you are welcome to watch me demonstrate it, since it seems all of you are following me instead of returning to the comfort of your beds."

He leads the assembled group to a small wooden building not far up the street. The marshal enters, lights a lantern, and beckons the rest inside.

The room is spacious. Of course, a third of it is taken up by a barred cell, which the man opens. The rest of the room resembles a typical sheriff's office--a desk filled with paperwork, a wall filled with bulletins and wanted posters, and a few wooden chairs, but along the wall is a shelf filled with an amazing assortment of curious devices, stacked neatly with copies of the Smith & Robards catalog, various scientific journals, toolboxes, and spare parts. One of the contraptions seems to be a half-dismantled Gatling pistol, but one would have to guess at the functions of the others.

The marshal motions for Alouette to deposit the dead man in the cell, and waves the others in.

"I suppose introductions are in order. I am Doctor Ambrosius Botticelli Evans, late of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, now serving as the Marshal of the town of Blackthorn. Welcome to my facilities and place of business!"

"Robert Micklethwait, lawyer.  If you need any legal advice on bringing your inventions to market, I would be more than eager to assist."

The automaton just copies the motions with its free hand, only getting the idea when it's herded towards the cell. Goes and stands in it with its prisoner, a ticking noise suggesting it's either sparking something or 'thinking' on little punchcards or aetherrotype plates in there - probably starting a log of questions not answered.

"Is...possessed," it insists, "Ambrosius Botticelli Evans Late Of The Massachusetts Institute Of Technology should-" and its shifting to balance the surly corpse brings it into the hiss and crackle the storm breathes, faint pale fireglow returning to its lenses with the change of voice: "-look after his daughter better." The brass thing steps up to the bars and seems about to continue - until it grips one for emphasis and immediately grounds itself, shaking the half-remembered words from its head like a bathing bird.
"Get plus plus bars."

"I'm coming, friend," O'Rourke assured Alouette as the group moved to the sheriff's office. O'Rourke followed behind the automaton and the eerie, blue garbed madman, the talk of possession heightening the priest's interest in what was transpiring, as well as unsettling him.

Once Alouette had moved the dead man into a cell, O'Rourke took his turn during the introductions. "William O'Rourke," he said, "I'm a priest, currently without a parish. I've been traveling the Confederacy of late, doing God's work wherever there's need."

Looking at the others, Charging Bear says quietly, "I am Charging Bear, formally with the Army of Tennessee." He extends a hand to Evans.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:32, Wed 02 Dec 2009.

Evans raises an eyebrow and gives a confused look at Alouette when the clank does the Static Voice, but declines to comment.

"A lawyer, eh? Well, I won't hold that against you, but I'll keep that in mind. Did you come with the circuit judge?"

He nods at O'Rourke. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you. We're a parish without a priest, so I'm hopeful that, with all of God's work needed here, you'll fit right in."

He shakes Charging Bear's hand warmly. "Well met, sir. Well met."

Meanwhile, the undead soldier has been still and unresponsive...in fact, it hasn't moved at all since Alouette took it into the cell, laying like dead weight in the clank's arms.

Charging Bear's hand shake is firm, "A pleasure Sheriff." The young brave walks with a bit of a stagger in his step, to the cell and looks over the reanimated corpse, his eyes hard.

Followed silently and smiled as he entered the room to find so many odds and ends and the like. When it comes his turn for introductions "John, John Smith, pleasure to make your acquaintance sir." he said simply and politely before letting his eyes wander the room once more. If there was a coat and hat rack anywhere he'd take the liberty of hanging up both to avoid dripping water all about the office.

"August Colby, glad to know y'all," August adds by way of introduction, sounding a little distracted.

He watches the undead soldier carefully, wondering if it's playing the possum to fool them.  "Say, is he still alive there?  Or - still not alive, I mean?"

Robert nods.  "Yes, and usually I have nothing more to worry about but an irate client."

"movement cease," Alouette agrees, not letting go. "Death of gentleman no name value not demon deter: clay is minus minus blood for human function..." It takes a little time to point its head at the corpse, either looking at it or doing something similar, still holding onto the bar with its other hand.

"Mechanical fault demon deter." The self-declared angel sticks its pointy head through the bars as far as it'll go like a begging cagebird. "Called Charging Bear cut corpse leg cables?"

The Indian stares at Alouette with a look of utter confusion. "You want me to chop his legs off?"

The automaton analyses this, clicking. "No, plus plus damage not the clay: plus damage uneccessary. Have observed mortals walking, conclusion chief perambulation cables located back upper leg. Called Charging Bear has sharp attachments: Called Charging Bear cut cables, clay walks not; demon deterred return."

"Before anyone goes about hacking into what may just possibly be an innocent victim," Evans says, heading to his shelf of mechanical contraptions, "I think it would be prudent to determine just what it is we're dealing with here." He withdraws a small red box, filled with dials and knobs, with some sort of indicator, and sets it on his desk. He turns a knob, and an arc of electricity sparks. The indicator spins. Evans watches the indicator for a few moments, pointing it in the direction of several of the others in the room before turning it on the corpse in the clank's arms.

"Hmm...interference from the local disturbance of the aether...not unexpected, but damn me if it isn't inconvenient...several sharp spikes from control subjects, very odd...wild spikes from our local friendly automaton, no surprises there...only trace amounts from our friend in blue, though. Normal life-signs not present, so I can only assume that the traces are from whatever it was keeping him animated, which has now ended. If there was, indeed, an aetheric entity inhabiting it, it seems to have gone now. If you're still interested in an exorcism or chopping up it's legs to make sure the thing doesn't come back, I'm not against it, but please, let the poor man retain some sort of dignity after you're finished."

"that's pretty much what he looked like when I dropped him off at Underhill's place." Robert comments.  "What say we got a sawbones to make sure he is dead, finally."

John glanced at the thing wondering when it was that the spirit within left. "Probably got bored there wasn't going to be violence on account of it or somethin'." he said absently just thankful to be dry. "The one we fought on our way here was more than a little to handle. Bullets didn't seem to do a damn thing to it, only managed to off it with a lucky shot in the end."

Evans look faintly alarmed at the mention of a sawbones. "That...may not be such a good idea. I'd rather not get Dr. Ward involved in all this. Not yet, any way. You say you found him first, then? And that he was in his current state of repose?"

He listens to John. "There was another, you say? Where?"

"Edward and I found one at a cross roads some miles out of town." he said as he looked at the rather odd sheriff. "Started rambling on twisted biblical sounding verses and attacked us. Needless to say we put it in the dirt, well... again."

"Demon on pain feed, fear feed, John John Smith..." Almost curiously it shifts its grip a little, letting go of the bar, apparently talking to Micklethwait:

"Undertaker precaution here, open in past tense: fight. Too many holes for living mortal." With that it tilts the corpse's head to show the common discreet cut at the top of the jugular, the undertaker's stitches long pulled awry by its tight grip on the thing's neck.

Taking things in logical progression, it addresses Evans:
"How is...name value found re: no name value gentleman?"