Listening attentively to Smith's account, O'Rourke asks, "If you don't mind, Mr. Smith, do you remember anything specific that it said? Was it more talk of judgment like this creature here?"

Tried to think back. He had never been much for scripture or religion in general and his exposure to it was even more limited but he recalled the verses well enough. "Fire and Brimstone stuff mostly Father, some passage about a pale horse and another about 'I'll strike down vengeance upon thee' and the like. It's like these guys like the book of Revelations above all else." he said with a thoughtful frown.

Charging Bear looks to the other, then towards the deadman again. He starts to speak in almost a whisper. "Came upon a dead Union soldier, who looked as if he was long sick. His ankle twisted horribly if not broken, I'm not sure how he managed to get so far from anywhere... saw no horse nearby. He got up from the earth and began to attack. I was ready. A few swift strikes of steel rended the risen fiend from the living again."

He was alive when I found him.  Dying, talking kind of crazy.  God's wrath, quoting scripture, talking about plague and God's vengenace, mostly."

August nods along with John's account, and as he recognizes similar themes in the other reports.  "It was a vengeful God that it wanted to holler about, Father, for sure.  Pestilence and beasts and the like."  He keeps a wary eye on the nearby corpse as he speaks.

Alouette prods the corpse about the collar, looking for something or just malfunctioning, static sounding like the sea in its weird brass skull "...voices of apocalypse..."

Evans listens to the accounts. "That's unsettling. Three Union Soldiers, all in and around a Confederate town, all rising from the dead, most of them speaking about pestilence and God's Wrath and such like. Right when this blasted storm comes again." He looks at Charging Bear. "Did the one you dispatched say anything before you put it to the steel?"

Taking a stumble step back from the bars, Charging Bear looks at Evans and shakes his head, "No, he simply attacked..."

John frowns "No bible talk?" he asks curious. "That seems rather strange considerin' the others." he said stretching a little as he let his eyes wander to the various items strewn about the office. "Y'know, Sheriff, ifn' yer thinkin' about investigating this matter and you find yerself needin' help I was thinking about finding work for a spell while I'm in town. That and this thing has me curious to boot."

"...there is another angel..." Alouette straightens a moment, looking at a bit of wall as though it can see far beyond. "...stirring, crow-winged echoes shiver in the s-static error." The automaton twitches a bit and gets on with trying to pick out of its scrambled memory how to get a name from a corpse.

After a second its quiet ticking pauses. *tsssh* "Called Charging Bear is soldier..." more ticking "...Confederate/Union null equal value...he knows what is number normal for scout party? alternate: raiding patrol?"

"Perhaps he was slain before he had the opportunity? Our friend Charging Bear says he was right on top of the creature when it rose." Evans muses. At the offer, he smiles. "Tell me, have you had any training in the art of telepathy? Because I was considering offering any of you who wish it the opportunity to help me delve deeper into this mystery, and I'm pleased to have a volunteer."

Looking at the big tin can, Charging Bear simply says, "Confederacy. He gazes back at the deadman in the cell then to Evans, "I will help." the words are hushed.

All this talk of wrath, yet these undead vessels seemed anything but angelic. O'Rourke frowned, wondering what terrible power might be at work, and what its true purpose might be.

"I would certainly like to assist in any investigation as well, Sheriff," O'Rourke says, his voice low. "I fear whatever is at work here presents danger to the people of these parts. I feel obliged to do my part in protecting them."

"And you can count me in," August says.  "I was trained by J.W. Hawkins, if'n you know him, and I reckon I can help... and so I want to."  He shivers a little after speaking, despite his best efforts to ignore the lingering chill of his wet clothes.

"Confederacy not number...appears to be area value." Alouette clearly has no knowledge of which states are in the Confederacy or indeed anything about the war.

The talky automaton does its best to rephrase and show its logic:
"Have 1, 2, 3 name-less of not here recorded...is total of plural soldiers in scout party, alternate: raiding detail? Or is usual 5, 10 together come?
Mortals together share plague: 1, 3 name-less of not here report affect sickness, death: demons use clay for plus fear, use clay of warriors of not Confederacy, plus fear feed."
It turns its head toward O'Rourke.
"Yes protect: self protect preacher also."

O'rourke smiles at Alouette's words. "Much obliged, Alouette," he says. He frowns briefly, mulling over the other things the automaton said. "Fear feed? These dead men...they're brought to life with the fear of others?"

"Or perhaps to instill fear. I don't know about you but if I were just an average average confederate townsfolk and I saw a dead boy in blue walking towards me spouting on about the apocalypse and such I'd be mighty 'fraid. That sort of fear has a tendency to spread like a wild fire." John piped in. Still looking about surprisingly at peace. He typically didn't truck much with fate and greater powers but he felt that he was riding the winds and it would be best to see where they take him.

The "angel" seems far more certain on matters of demonology. "Yes, John John Smith - plus fear = plus demon food." To O'Rourke: "Demon brings clay to movement where soul has departed in fear, in weakness, without faith in any thing/any one. Alternate: death within breath length of demon summoned in other object, death by suicide, death by witchcraft."

Evans listens to Alouette. "So if I understand what you've been saying, these things feed on fear, are created by fear or witchcraft, and are trying to create more fear to live on. And you've been asking if there might be more, given the typical size of a Union scouting party, correct?"

He frowns, moves over to his desk, and removes a glass and a half empty bottle of bourbon. "That's not a thought I'd like to contemplate sober," He says as he pours himself a drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:53, Thu 10 Dec 2009.

"I heard tales of such things in the war, but always discounted them, men in battle see strange things.  but maybe they were true.  I would like to find out more as well."

"Strange things happen regardless of war." Charging Bear says, in a quiet voice as he moves across the sheriff's office and looks out the window. "Seen men butcher women and children in the name of progress. Men kill for land, for money, for perceived power. The elders always said something was out there, something more than most could see or reason." His gaze shifts and his head tilts skyward, as though watching the storm. "Perhaps now it is coming to show itself."

The "angel" clumsily punctuates the deep statement by smacking its head against the bars, reaching through to point at the bourbon. It's still holding on to the poor corpse like an overgrown child with an old rag doll.
"What is liquid?"

Encouraged by an answer, the automaton continues: "Correct, Ambrosius Botticelli Evans Late Of The Massachusetts Institute Of Technology. Also death near possessed object, also suicide demons attract. Self has been also asking manner for name find re:corpse." It falls quiet a moment, then in case Evans has forgotten, or possibly to prove its point: "Self is null demon, self is angel. Alouette is not of flesh, is immortal, does not fear feed. Angel."

"Well, if some ancient horror is getting ready to peek out and stare at all of us, it can damn well wait until I've had a good night's rest to deal with it." Evans signs and drinks.

At Alouette's question: "This? This, my fine metallic friend, is my other friend, Jack Daniel's. He doesn't speak much, but he's helped me make sense of a number of difficult issues, soothed my aching heart more times than I can count, and generally been an excellent partner in trying times. I'd pour you a glass and let you get acquainted, but I honestly have no idea how you'd drink it." He grimaces at the second full use of his name. "Ek. Is that really what it sounds like, all laid out like that? From now on, my metallic friend, I would take it as a kindness if you referred to me as Ambrose." He takes another drink and thinks. "I am not really not sure how we'd go about finding this poor gentleman's name, unless we find one of his companions who hasn't shuffled off the mortal coil. He will just have to remain John Doe for now, poor fellow."

Still at the window, Charging Bear's left hand, almost as though by reflex, reaches up and touches the old rag doll around his neck.

"Any of y'all know what killed these soldiers to start with?  If they died here, maybe someone around town knows more about what happened to 'em," August ventures.

He follows Charging Bear's and moves a little closer to the window, looking out at the dark night.