August touches his hat respectfully; he may not have a lot of fancy manners, but he knows a Person of Importance when he meets one.  The carriage is a hefty clue, in any case.

"It's my understandin' that it's digging a grave, sir," he answers truthfully.

The automaton is a fast and tireless digger, and is a fair distance down in the ground by the time the mayor turns up, corpse wedged into a corner where it can be kept an eye on as more as more dirt joins the piles around the edge.

It straightens up on hearing August talking again, looks about and greets the people it's not seen before: "Howdy! Fear not! Self is angel, is solving innappropriate location of once-possessed corpse without danger to men, women or children...is third Union-uniformed man to die and become possessed nearby - if you see Union soldier, do not engage in conversation, do not approach to attack! Seek self, seek not-exploded priest at the Grand Bull, church on Sundays, alternate: seek Ambrose. Fear not! You are protected."

Then happily to August, spiel finished: "Almost complete." The somewhat muddy angel goes back to digging like a dog. It seems there's something metallic or otherwise polarised down there; the machine's quiet ticking and static murmurings to itself are interspersed with the occasional fuzz of heavy static and snatches of sleepy child-like nonsense if one listens closely enough:
("...pound hammer..." *tssst* "...man without a mind found the girl without a soul, since they couldn't make children, they made a deep hole..." *tzzt* "...Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay/That made the breeze to blow...")
This message was last edited by the player at 22:57, Wed 13 Jan 2010.

"Indeed?" the large man says to August. "Are you aware, then, that there is a perfectly serviceable cemetery that the deceased may be buried in, and a fine undertaker who would be willing to do the deed for a very reasonable fee? And that it is not necessary for your, er, contraption to dig holes in the middle of our thoroughfares?"

He listens to Alouette's assurances, his frown growing deeper and deeper. "Dear me." he says, still talking directly to August. "I fear your contraption has developed some sort of delusional complex. It may be necessary for you to dismantle it." His tone indicates that he would very much enjoy expediting that process, and he nods to his driver, who produces a shotgun from under his seat.

[Private to August Colby: Might be a good time for a Persuasion roll from August.]

Roland nods, and within a few minutes a plate piled high and a steaming cup are delivered.

"Oh, it ain't my contraption," August says, seizing precisely the least important point to respond to.  "I don't know who built it, but it sure seems to have a mind of its own."



"I really don't reckon you ought shoot it, sir," August says urgently, although a compelling reason escapes him.  "It - uh - it might be armed, and then this'll turn into a gunfight in the middle of town?" he tries, but doesn't really manage to sell the idea at all.  "Ask the Marshal before you do anything rash, sir, he'll vouch for it," he adds, speaking increasingly quickly.

OOC: 06:49, Today: August Colby rolled -1,2 using 1d4-2,1d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 1,4. Unskilled Persuasion test.

"Evans!?" The word comes out somewhere halfway between a hiss and a strangled roar. The man takes a moment for a deep breath and a bit of contemplation. "Of course. I might have known. Alistair!" He calls to the man holding the hogleg. "Be a good lad and fetch the Marshal. I shall be very interested to hear what he has to say on this matter."

The man gives a curt nod, hops off the carriage, and legs it down the street to the Marshal's office.

After a bit more digging Alouette levers itself out of its hole like the participant of some combined freakshow and mudwrestling contest, having laid the corpse face down in it. Pausing to put a bit of soil on the corpse's legs it informs August: "Will presently fetch holy water," then sets a long brass hand on the Mayor's arm for attention - very gentle for a metal creature that could probably snap the thin bones there without great effort.

"Self is not mortal, nor flesh: cannot corrupt, become deluded, become seduced by demons. Self hears only the Voice; self is angel."
It tilts its head, willing to move between August and the Mayor if the man won't look at it directly, in case he doesn't notice it. "If man of facial clouds wishes to shoot Alouette, advise waiting until citizens are far from self: have internal fuel/oil supply, internal pressure system, and static control ill functioning at present time - man of facial clouds and other mortals might be harmed by explosion, flammability, riquochet of shot, shrapnel, noxious fumes, disfavour of God."
It pauses.
"Also advise to wait until number of demons active near Town, Texas is determined."

The mayor glares at the metal arm with disgust and irritation. He shrugs his arm out of Alouette's grip, leaving a trail of mud on the arm of his expensive-looking jacket. "Construct, where is your creator? I would have words with him about your conduct in my city." He says, addressing Alouette for the first time.

[Private to Alouette: Make a Notice check for me, please.]

The automaton raises an arm and points straight up at the sky.
"Speak. He can always hear you."

In reply to Roland Frost (msg #25):

Robert nods.  He heads out on some errands.

semi - OOC: robert will check with the sherrif to see if the judge came in, then swing by the telegraph office.

[Private to GM: he'll telegraph an encoded message to a contact, basically saying that something odd is up in this town.  Mention a possible source of Ghost Rock]

As Robert appraoches the marshal's office, he sees another person there, a rough-looking fellow with a shotgun slung over his shoulder, arguing with Evans, who looks like he might have just crawled out of bed. As Robert gets closer, he's able to make out the gist of the discussion:

"Mayor wants to see you, Evans. There's a disturbance at the square...some crazy clank is digging holes in the street. Something a bout burying a dead Yank soldier. Says you knew about this. Mayor's fit to be tied, wants you there to deal with this as fast as you can manage."

"Oh, what fresh Hell is this? I haven't even had so much as a cup of coffee, let alone prepared for the day."

"Mayor don't give a good god damn, Evans."

"His Fatness can jolly well wait for a few minutes while I make myself presentable." The door closes as Evans retreats back inside.

"Fuck you." The rough man grumbles. He glares at Robert as the old man approaches. "What do YOU want?"

"To speak with the marshal." Robert replies smoothly as he moves past and knocks on the door.

"God's wounds, man! Can't you wait five minutes? I highly doubt the machine man is going anywhere soon, and I would like to at least be presentable in public. Have some decency!"

"Hrumph." The man grumbles. "I suppose I should have seen such a reply coming, really." He frown seems to almost be melting his face off. With no one to yell at, he's rather at a loss for what to do, so he turns to the crowd. "Come on, then. Move along! Nothing to be done until the Marshal gets here."

He points to August. "You there! Be a good lad and fetch Mr. Underhill, would you? Perhaps we can get this whole business settled without further damage to the surroundings."

John Smith, Father O'Rourke, and Charging Bear are able to sit down to a nice hot breakfast, oblivious to the goings-on in the street...

[[OOC: I'm mostly waiting on you three to come up with whatever you were going to do in the morning and respond accordingly...]]

John enjoys his breakfast quite thoroughly. Upon finishing his meal he neatly cleans his plate as best as he can and promptly turns to August. "I think I'm going to go out for a little bit of air, maybe get a lay of the land now that it's not pitch black and pouring down rain. Care to join?" he asked as he moved to pay for his meal.

Charging Bear finishes the small meal he ordered and nods towards John Smith, "That does sound like a smart idea... mind if I accompany you?"

Alouette replaces its hand on the mayor's arm, having learnt that gets his attention. "Underhill is not useful here - cannot bury query suicide, query witch-cursed, query faithless in consecrated ground. Must not infect." It pauses, but won't stop August if he wants to do as asked. "Corpse is known to demons, may yet be found by another - therefore, crossroads."

It points these out, in case the mayor hasn't noticed it's dug its hole in the middle of two main roads. "Materiality is confusing to spirit world, crossroads much plus confusing...if saining fails and another demon finds the empty clay, it will not realise it is buried upside-down, and will dig its way to the centre of the Earth." Deciding the mayor is thoroughly reassured now and not about to shoot anyone, the self-declared angel ambles off to retrieve its glass of water.

The large man shakes his arm free of Alouette's grip once again. "Stop that, you impertinent contraption. Do you not know that it is rude to touch people without their permission? Your creator must have neglected manners when he assembled you."

He listens, and a thoughtful look comes over him. "Hrumph. Yes, I see...I should have realized that earlier. Yes...now I understand." He looks back into the orbs that Alouette has in place of eyes. "Listen to me, then. The damage here has already been done here, but the next time you are moved to start digging holes in the middle of busy thoroughfares in my town, or indeed performing any other such rites and rituals, I must insist that you seek permission from me before you do so, so that such things may be done properly and with a minimum of disruption to the citizens of Blackthorn. Do you understand?"

[[OOC: August isn't there...he followed Alouette outside.]]

After a few minutes, a much less disheveled-looking Evans opens the door. He looks at Robert. "Oh! I beg pardon, Mr. micklethwait...I thought you were the other man. How can I help you?"

"Excuse me." The rough man snarls. "I was here first. We still have a situation..."

"Would you care to step inside, Mr. Micklethwait?" Evans says, ignoring the roughneck.

"Evans!"

"Oh, don't worry so much. I am sure that this business won't take but a moment to clear up!" Evans says cheerfully. "Just wait right there for a moment, there's a good lad!"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:07, Wed 20 Jan 2010.

John looked about and noticed August had already left apparently. So lost in thought was he that he must not have been paying close attention. Looking at Charging Bear he shrugged and nodded "No complaints here." he said as he allowed himself a stretch before making his way to the door and out into the street.

Grabbing his beaten CSA coat, Charging Bear hands Frost the money he owes for his mean and walks to the door. His foot falls are echoed by the slight patting of tomahawk handles.

The automaton pauses. "No...but self has observed touching of hands, shoulders, elbow-nudging, back-slapping, minus observed exchange of permission...refine definition? Alternate: define appropriate/innapropriate touching?"

It tilts its head at him, too inexperienced to see anything unusual about a small-town mayor having a decent understanding of the occult. "Understood. Self always performs angelic duties properly - will suitably flatten thoroughfare when re-dead nameless gentleman is buried." It makes to be off again, then stops and points its head in the air. "...God says self should inquire where man of facial clouds lives."

"Hrumph. I am not inclined to instruct you on all the intricacies of human interaction. Suffice to say, such permissions are given only to friends. And YOU. Are NOT. My friend. Are we clear on that, at least?"

He snorts. "All such requests are to be delivered to the Town Hall, over there," he points to a large, impressive structure on one side of the town square, "during normal business hours, at which time they will be reviewed and a proper course of action decided on. I will not abide such requests being delivered to my personal residence...my wife would faint, and you would scare the children."