The Dreamlands Express exhaled hospitality. Cabins were larger than those of the waking Orient Express, lush with velvet, curtains, and soft carpets. And within each, the passengers found their most intimate possessions—not carried aboard, yet present nonetheless. Claire’s tools, rendered now as rugged hand-stitched canvas. Walter’s Bible, illuminated and anachronistically in English, handwritten as if by some medieval monk. Arthur’s military uniform, tailored archaically by invisible hands, missing the very button he had long meant to replace. These objects, familiar yet estranged, hinted at the dream’s deeper cruelty: the past, half-remembered, re-fashioned, made uncanny.

They explored their surroundings, guided by Henri’s explanations of the train’s shifting nature. Cars would appear and vanish as needed. The rear was reserved for cats, the front for work and fire. Beyond the velvet compartments lay a bathhouse of waterfalls, steam, and divine scents—a temptation to linger. Yet curiosity pressed them onward. When Walter inquired what fueled such beasts, Henri confessed with reluctance: the train ran on its own kind. The creatures fed one another, healing as quickly as they were consumed. A circle of life, grotesquely efficient.

Drawn by this revelation, the group pushed forward to the tender. There, beneath the open sky, they saw them: winged, barbed demons carving flesh from the dream-beast and shoveling it into heaps of gore. Their tools were picks and cleavers, their wings leathery and vast. Walter’s faith surged into defiance; he raised his Bible, chanting words of exorcism. The others recoiled, sanity straining. Claire cracked first. Terror bloomed into frenzy, and she charged with a wrench, convinced that only destruction could preserve them. She swung wildly, missing, while the creatures leapt skyward, their wings blotting out the dreamlight. Claire’s mind teetered on madness—yet not for the last time.

Arthur sought reason, but reason failed. Walter thrust his cross forward as though light alone could banish nightmare. Per kept his distance, observant, perhaps too accepting. Viola, with calmer judgment, lingered behind, choosing the refuge of the bathhouse instead of the horrors at the fore.

The creatures retreated to the engine, vanishing inside. Claire, still caught in her madness, seized upon a crossbow conveniently waiting on the tender platform, bolts gleaming in their quiver. She fired, the bolt skewed by the rushing dream-wind. In the engine’s glow, the demons became something else—two stokers clad in the dark livery of the Orient Express, faces masked in porcelain, one smiling, one frowning. They mimed surprise, slapping and pointing at each other, a farcical pantomime that mocked the terror of moments before. Henri appeared, soothing, assuring them that all was well. But the scent of blood, the sticky floor, the heaps of meat—it lingered. The train was fed, and it was fed by itself.

Meanwhile, Viola sought solace in the ladies’ parlor, a garden of sweet fountains and dainty cakes. There she found Madame Bruja, the gaunt Elizabethan woman glimpsed earlier, and shared polite words over sugared confections. Bruja spoke of burdens, of discarding the cruelties of men, while Viola demurred, confessing only to petty follies. Their civility was interrupted by a black kitten—Little Blackjack—who batted at leaves and lapped cream from a saucer with fearless innocence. Henri arrived to collect the kitten, whispering to it as though it were a confidant. The conductor’s words, inaudible to human ears, drew only a soft mewl of reply. The kitten was returned to the cats’ domain, but Viola was left wondering if it had been messenger or omen.

As evening fell, the passengers discovered fine attire laid out for them, prepared as though by unseen hands. The bell rang for dinner. Soon they would gather in the banquet hall, where meat, wine, and other delicacies awaited. Yet each carried into that hall a new unease: Arthur with the weight of his rank made uncanny, Claire with madness gnawing her edges, Walter with faith unshaken yet tested, Per with quiet observation, and Viola with the enigmatic kindness of a black kitten’s gaze.

Dinner awaited, but already the Dreamlands Express had feasted on their certainty.

Session Notes

  • Opening dreamlike sequence and setup on the Dreamlands Express

    • A narrated vignette establishes a surreal transition: Paris “vanished behind them in coal, smoke, and polished steel” as the Simplon Express slid south, with the arm of the Sedefkar Simulacrum pulsing in their luggage.
    • Claire recalls a dream visitor speaking Latin: “find the pieces or be devoured,” coupled with a letter, a destination, and resolve sufficient for sleep.
    • Claire dreams of Charrington’s cold halls and a door that opens not to escape but to “elsewhere.”
    • Fog parts to reveal Ulthar, “a dream town built for cats and quiet law,” where “no man may kill a cat.” Stone feline statues flank the road while real cats watch.
    • Claire offers fish; the cats accept ceremonially.
    • At a vine-choked tower, Claire encounters Viola Sutcliffe and a pipe-smoking gentleman calling himself Mackenzie (“between trains”).
    • Walter, Arthur, and Per arrive, each drawn by shared dreaming; together they find a train platform without tracks.
    • A porcelain-masked conductor named Henri emerges from a crate and hands out engraved tickets listing an itinerary from Ulthar to Cyrenian, and—if one dares—into the Gulf of Nodens, “where burdens could be cast away, never to return.”
    • The Dreamlands Express arrives: a living train with jointed limbs, glistening flanks, golden eyes; coaches sway atop its impossible flesh. Observing dream etiquette, horror is deferred to understanding, and the group boards.
    • Inside, hospitality is emphasized; the travelers are shown to cabins housed in a palanquin strapped to the backs of the beasts. The train lifts and runs with unreal grace.

  • Passengers, cabins, and personal items within the dream

    • Henri leads the group through “Sleeping Compartment A” and adjacent rooms.

    • A gaunt woman in Elizabethan dress—Madame Bruja—is present; she gives a severe impression. Karakov is a friendlier fellow. Bruja’s compartment is next to Per’s.

    • Cabins are larger than those on the Orient Express, with lush velvet pillows, a couch convertible to bedding, heavy curtains for complete darkness, and deep, soft carpets.

    • Each investigator finds a personally important item with them, altered to a handmade, archaic aesthetic:

      • Claire’s tools: her tool bag is present, now rugged, hand-stitched heavy canvas with thick thread.
      • Arthur’s uniform: his British Army dress uniform hangs in the closet; recognizable but archaically cut, handmade, newly made yet styled older, and missing a button Arthur knows should be replaced. The closet also contains a robe and comfortable lounging clothes.
      • Walter’s Bible: the familiar worn-leather Bible is present, but it is handwritten and illuminated (not printed), anachronistically old yet in English.

    • Henri notes more passengers may board further along, so neighbors will arrive later.

  • Henri’s orientation to the train

    • Henri explains:

      • Cars come and go; if a compartment becomes empty, it leaves the train.
      • The cats’ compartment at the rear is for cats; humans may enter only if invited by the cats.
      • Men’s Saloon and Ladies’ Parlor are separated by convention; passengers may go where they wish, but should observe social norms.
      • Visiting the tender or engine is unnecessary, but allowed; the train will ensure no harm comes to passengers.

    • On what powers the train, Henri clarifies the Dreamlands differ from the waking world:

      • The train-beasts are animals that heal rapidly; one beast is fed to another “but stop before it becomes too much,” after which the fed-upon beast recovers. Duties rotate. This arrangement emerged after “many years of conversation” with the train.

    • Henri recognizes the Zorba name and recalls Arthur’s grandmother. He remarks that Arthur’s ancestors traveled the Orient Express carrying something malicious and took responsibility to destroy it. He sensed souls boarding now who would need a chance to cast away burdens before taking on their greatest burden.

  • Decision to explore the train; Bathhouse interlude

    • The group discusses where to talk and decides to visit the Bathhouse.
    • The Bathhouse is expansive, filling the palanquin; waterfalls tumble from above and the air smells divine. It’s tempting to soak, but their dress is unsuitable.
    • Karakov arrives, drops his robe and towel, and slides into the bath, remarking this is a dream.
    • Per is already in the water, floating on his back with a bottle of schnapps on his chest.
    • Viola expresses squeamishness about seeing the tender; the party decides most will proceed forward to the front (toward the tender), while Viola remains behind.

  • Baggage Car observations en route to the tender

    • In the Baggage Car, a door with a window (an “aperture”) is locked; no explanation is offered.

    • The storage area is open and resembles a cluttered attic:

      • Worn trunks, some broken.
      • A shelf with small ring boxes.
      • Boxes of chocolates.
      • Arrangements of withered, dried flowers.
      • A violin with broken strings.

    • The assortment suggests discarded or forgotten items rather than travelers’ active luggage.

  • The Tender and the shock of the stokers; Sanity checks

    • On the tender platform in open air, the group sees the stokers: humanoid figures with smooth jet-black skin, barbed tails, leathery wings, and tools (picks, shovels, cleavers).

    • They are hacking chunks of meat from a hole and loading them into a wheelbarrow.

    • This sight provokes Sanity checks:

      • Claire fails, losing five Sanity and entering a temporary bout of madness.
      • Others are startled but keep control, recalling Henri’s assurances of safety aboard the train.

  • Claire’s temporary madness and attack; the stokers retreat

    • In her temporary madness, Claire concludes it is “them or me” and charges the winged beings with heavy wrenches, attempting to stop them.
    • Her brawl attempt misses; the creatures leap skyward, spread their wings, and, struggling to match the train’s speed, fly to the roof of the engine where they crouch and watch.
    • Walter confronts them with Bible and cross, loudly reciting to cast out devils and remaining on guard.

  • Claire arms herself; a missed shot; entry into the engine

    • Seeking a ranged weapon, Claire finds a crossbow and bolts on the tender platform (using her resourcefulness).
    • She fires; despite a regular success on the attempt, the headwind from the moving train pushes the bolt off course; it misses.
    • The two winged stokers scramble down from the engine roof into the engine compartment.

  • Inside the engine; the masked stokers revealed; Henri intervenes

    • Claire and Walter push into the engine. The floor and a heap near an open hatch glow dully red and are sticky with meat.
    • Two men in dark, heavy cloaks in Orient Express colors, with gleaming gold buttons, tricorne hats, and ceramic masks (one smiling, one frowning) stand within.
    • The masked stokers mime in silence (pointing and slapping each other’s hands), offering no attack.
    • Henri arrives promptly, explaining there was a miscommunication with the stokers (“Andre and Pierre”), who had not yet dressed for work properly.
    • He reassures the group there is nothing to fear, reiterates safety aboard the train, and gently ushers them back toward the passenger areas to prepare for dinner soon.
    • Walter presses whether the beings are from Hell; Henri replies they are from “the land beyond dreams,” not Hell.

  • Concurrently: Viola in the Ladies’ Parlor; meeting Madame Bruja and “Little Black Jack”

    • Viola visits the Ladies’ Parlor: a cultivated garden with sweet flowers in filigree tubs, scented fountains, a bar displaying a rainbow of bottles, and service of cream, jam-laced cakes, and dainty six-pointed sandwiches.

    • Madame Bruja sits there, nibbling a jam cake; she acknowledges Viola more warmly than earlier.

    • Introductions:

      • Bruja gives her name.
      • Viola introduces herself as Miss Viola Sutcliffe of England.

    • Brief conversation:

      • Bruja finds the train pleasant but is eager for the end of the three-day journey; she implies she has a burden to discard.
      • At Viola’s request for advice on choosing a burden, Bruja suggests discarding memories of a man’s mistreatment; Viola demurs, stating she’s unsure what her burden should be.
      • They agree to dine together if occasion allows; Viola gives Bruja her calling card.

    • A small black kitten wanders the parlor, batting leaves and exploring.

      • Viola obtains a saucer of cream; the kitten drinks messily, getting cream on its whiskers and nose, half-tipping the saucer.
      • Henri appears at the door, quietly asks if anything is needed, then kneels and whispers to the kitten, calling it “Little Black Jack,” and notes its mother knows it is there.
      • Henri confirms the cats’ compartment is just beyond; Viola expresses willingness to visit if invited. The kitten head-bonks and purrs as Viola pets it.

  • Preparations for dinner; session pause

    • The others return to their compartments to find dining clothes laid out.
    • A bell rings, calling passengers to the Banqueting Hall.
    • The scene ends with the promise of dinner next session; no further events occur at table.