The coming of the Phantom Train is preluded by the hissing and literal screaming of some of the damned souls that are burnt for the sake of stoking its furnace; pre-heated, as they were, for their eternal seats in Hell. Why, yes, there is a literal, physical Hell, and it's unlike either the Abyss or those silly places where Dispater and Co. make their abodes. Hell - the real thing - is not for amateurs.
Those of you aware that this is one of the destinations of the Phantom Train are suddenly reminded of the grave carriage you are all to be riding in, and most likely thank the fact you cannot fall asleep and miss your stop. You're also suddenly reminded what manner of decayed man-god you're fighting for. Yes, soon as you arrive in Walesti you will be the talk of town, and that manner of arrival will ensure only the most foolhardy will come to mess with you. Some might claim that subtlety would be called for, but when you're working for someone whose second-in-command is the literal embodiment of the inexorable decay of all life, that ship has no doubt sailed long ago.
Yorick helps escort your number to your respective rooms. They are conveniently located close to each other, and very spacious at that, should you wish to convene together.
A single boy of dark, short hair and dull grey eyes, no older than twelve years of age and dressed in formal, seemingly funereal garb (complete with a tophat) awaits inside Claudia's room. At the moment, he kicks idly at the air, looking down and apparently being very, very bored.