This is the gameplay thread for our Anachronistic Reign of Winter
Dotting in
The beautiful Kykuit, only so recently completed, sits on a high hill overlooking the Hudson River and the skyline of Lower Manhattan nearly 30 miles to the south. Not so far away are the quaint villages of Pleasantville, Pocantico Hills, and Sleepy Hollow, the legendary haunt of the Headless Horseman. Here, surrounded by thousands of acres owned by John D. Rockefeller, the bustle, the stink, and the noise of the city. There is rarely much to inspire excitement or concern. Today, the July heat is stifling, and the household has taken to the lawn in hopes that the breeze from the Hudson would offer some relief from the heat and humidity. Glasses of chilled pineapple ade go some way to quenching thirsts.
The peace of the afternoon was shattered by the appearance of a ragged figure stumbling up the lawn. The Huntsman, one Jun Oerson, was in a most surprising state. His nose and fingertips were blackened as if with frostbite, and he was babbling about snow and overturned automobiles.
In no time at all, Rockefeller demonstrated the quick thinking and authority that had made him a captain of industry, sending the butler to ring for assistance from the City and call a doctor for the wounded man. For now, Yun is resting in study, being warmed by a fire that seems entirely out of place in the summer heat.
Stepping out of the car, William immediately regrets the choice of the charcoal vest. The dark fabric heats in the sun and sweat beads form around his forehead as he carries a leather bag. I left South freaking Africa and managed to get in a hotter place. God must hate me so very much.
"Well, lead the way" he addresses the butler in his East End accent. "If it's frostbite -which seems weird- timing helps. And if it isn't, it could be an infection. Some new form of leprosy, perhaps, that would be quaint."
William gasps in the sweltering studio. How on Earth did he get frostbitten in July? Maybe they own one of those new things, refrigerators? Who else but Rockefeller would have one?
"Christ. Bloody brilliant job, setting up a fire for a man who's lost sensation in his estremities, prime way to get 'im burned. Fetch a bath instead, forty degree- a hundred Fahrenheit. And two more folks to carry him, strong ones, he mustn't walk by himself."
From his bag, the man fetches a bottle of pills and shakes it to make two fall out. A glass of water follows.
"Aspirin. Swallow, don't bite, 'less you want to know what sadness tastes like."
Naajy and Haamid were sitting quietly on the lawn when Jun had come staggering towards the house.
"Frostbite in July? How could that possibly happen? Something quite strange must be going on here."
His curiousity aroused, Naajy heads for the study and sees if Yun is up to answering a few questions. He most certainly doesn't do anything as gauche as SNEAK there but neither does he announce his presence before opening the door
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Jazz chases down a thief who stole a purse from an old lady, running and running for about a mile or so. He catches up to him, tackles him and lands in front the house. Later the thief told him the whole thing was staged. This guy could have easily outran Jazz and lost him but he slowed down around a few corners. He must be a top placed Marathon runner. Sorry, we had to get your attention somehow and you obviously either didn't read your mail or the message didn't get to you. So I brought you here He dusts himself off and the old lady arrives about five minutes later. Yeah this was staged, and he paid me a nickel to do this, money I could use. They both leave. Jazz walks up the the door and rings on the doorbell or knocks appropriately. When it opens, he greets himself. He is wearing some fine Travelers clothes. Apparently he has all his gear with him, as he forgot he had it on. Hey he chased the guy in Scalemail for a mile, surprised he isn't exhausted by now.
New York Harbor
The trip on the steamer ship had been less than exciting, and truth be told, Fang had upended the contents of his stomach into the sea more than once on the choppy voyage. The sailors found this amusing, but none of them were brave enough to say something to his face.
As the ship docked at the wharf, Fang approached the captain, a man who knew his adopted father well. They spoke of their mutual acquaintance for a few minutes, and then Fang explained that he had been told by his father to seek out a man named Rockerfeller and offer his assistance, but nothing more than that, but that he had written a letter to the man in English.
While the Captain arranged for a car to the Rockerfeller mansion, Fang took a moment to examine the docks around him: So busy they all are! he thought as he watched ships be loaded and unloaded, several at the same time!
Eventually the car arrived at the edge of the docks and the Captain led Fang to it. He handed the driver some money, and the car sped through the streets at an impossible speed. Finally, here was the wonder of travel that he had been longing to see!
The car left the city in short order and pulled through the gates of the mansion and then up the long drive to the house. The driver deposited him and took his leave with a tip of his cap, and then Fang knocked on the door. When it was answered by the butler, Fang presented the letter written by his father. It read:
Dear Mr. Rockerfeller,
My name is Lo Quan Zhan, and I am a regional detective with the National Police Force. I have received word that an attack is eminent on your person and estates, although the details are sparse. As my adopted son has a desire to see the world, I have sent him to assist you in this matter in my place, as the information I received stated that this matter would require a member of my family to resolve, and I have business here that prevents me from making the trip. Should you find that the problem has been resolved by the time my son has arrived, simply let him know and send him on his way. Should it not be, I entreat you to all him to assist you, as the source of this information has never proven unreliable.
I hope this letter finds you in good health,
Lo Quan Zhan
After presenting the letter, the massive Chinese man simply stood there waiting.
Naajy gets very little from the man by the time the Dr. arrives. There is much bustle as a fire is lit and Rockefeller brings Jun a large glass of brandy. The man drinks thirstily before passing out in a chair in front of the fire.
Naajy questions the man who came in with Jun, but Digger found Jun on the road far from whatever happened to him, and knows only that he was talking about snow, cars, and something about highwaymen.
Dr. Johnson examines the injured man and finds that he does, indeed, have frostbite. Truly a mystery! At his command, a maid prepares a bath and some of you carry Jun up the stairs to it. Jun is a massive man, nearly 6'6" and more than 300 pounds.
As the man warms, his eyes snap open. "Get back, get back, their touch is the chill of death itself!"
As he scans the room, whatever it is that he was seeing seems to fade from his vision as his eyes focus on all of you.
William snaps his finger, looking the man in the face. "Steady, steady. You're safe. You are in Mister Rockefeller's mansion, I'm a doctor. Do you remember what happened?"
"I was tracking a herd of deer, concerned for their fawns with the unseasonably cool weather we have been having. I heard a loud noise off in the distance, which was the auto hitting a tree, I think. Then there were pops, like rifle fire, and as I moved toward the noise, I heard something like a woman screaming, though it could a been a peacock shriek or some like. Well, as I come closer, the air gets crisp and a fog gathers up, and I come to the edge of the road, seeing the fog. Not thick, like, but just sort of whisping around the tree trunks and settle on the road. So I come to the edge of the road and see that there is two autos crashed, one head into a tree and one rolled right over onto its side. It's the worst crash I ever see. But queerer than all of that is that the road is snow covered and froze over, and there is frost on the trees and it is bitter cold. I look around and don't see no one, so I check on the auto that is crashed into the tree and see it is empty, and there is tracks of people coming out and heading north into the wood, so I start walking toward the over turned auto and I hear a crack and the burr of a bullet right by my ear. So I drop to the road and start crawling toward the first car, looking for some cover. Then I feel a prick in my cheek and another in my neck, and there's this overwhelming cold, like. And then I must a blacked out. When I come to, I was all stiff and my rifle was gone, so I thought I wasn't going to go into the woods after whoever was shooting at me, and me without a gun. So I made it into the woods to the south. And then this feller here found me running down the Pleasant Hill road and helped me here."
Jun's cheek and neck are frostbitten in just the spots where he describes feeling the cold pricks. Frostbitten nose and cheeks, of course, are not unusual, but frostbite on the neck, so close to the core, is unusual.
Fang watches the conversation, but he clearly doesn't understand what is going on.
"Do you happen to have any of the bullets fired at you? Doctor, did you take any out of him? A strange question, I know."
He doesn't appear to have any bullet wounds. The wounds that are surrounded by frostbite on his cheek and neck look more like stab wounds, but by a blade more akin to a large needle than a dagger.
Didn't deal with these cow-kissers enough back in their place, did I? Now I find them here too.
"Nay, no bullets."
Willaim wipes his hands on a towel while thinking.
"These wounds are little more than scratches, yet there's frostbite all around them, more than an ice weapon could cause. If I had to guess, I'd say it was some sort of chemical, but I'm at a loss as to what. And who would assault a car with some unknown chemical? Sounds like some far-fetched novel."
Placing back the towel, he snaps his fingers at Digger.
"Oi, lad! Show us where you found him, eh? I want to know what hurt him. And you-" he addresses the maid, passing her two more tablets "If he's in pain, give him one. Keep the water warm for a couple of hours, then check if he's got feeling back in his fingers and toes- he should."
The road passes through forest on both sides, forming a picturesque if queer sight. To the North, the scene is almost wintry, though the trees are still in summer leaf. To the South, summer persists. The temperature grows noticeably cooler and your breath fogs the air.The road ahead is littered with debris and stained with blood in a few places. An enclosed motorcar has crashed head first into a tree on the northern side of the road, while another has rolled over onto its side, its axle broken.
Before going out, William grabs a hunting rifle, checking the loading mechanism with practiced motions, slings it on his shoulder. "Pity I don't have my scouting equipment with me. Who are you folks, by the by? I'm Doctor William Johnson."
And there's a chink too. And- "Holy Mother of God, that's a tiger! What the heck are you doing, bringing a tiger around?"
His hand goes to the revolver in his bag, but as the other man appears to be relaxed and untroubled, he calms down somewhat.
In the woods, William follows the tracks with practiced expertise, increasingly puzzled by the increasing cold. "Well, this makes no bloody sense. No chemical I know could do something like that. It would- Oh, crud."
The middle-aged man, shivering, hurries to the bodies on the ground, checking for a pulse.
As the white people were babbling, none of them had seemed to notice Fang standing in the room. Finally, however, one of them said...something to him. I do not think he is trying to threaten me, but I should probably make sure. he thought to himself.
"Is that man threatening me?"
Fang then pointed at Dr. Johnson.
----
As the group begins looking around, Fang looks into the woods and then starts walking while speaking in his native language.
"I see some dead people this way."
"What's that? Mandarin? Cantonese? I don't speak either. English? Français? Deutsch? Nederlands? हिन्दी (hindi)? Who is this man, one of your manservants?"
"Just a guess, but I'd put my money on it being Chinese," Digger blurts, amazed the limey sawbones didn't know better.
William shoots a glance to the boy. "Oh, Chinese, isn't it? What a mastermind linguist we've got here. There's more dialects of Chinese than I've got hair, lad."
"Just tryin ta help, limey. Ain't ever-one been lucky to had much fancy learnin."
William points a finger at the boy's chest, lips thinning and brow furrowed. "'Twasn't luck that got me studying after twelve hours' work at the textile mill, lad. 'Twasn't luck when I took Victoria's bloody Shilling to get shipped across the world. It was sweat and blood, and I fought in the most disgusting, cholera-ridden hellholes this Earth has to offer, cutting up corpses and soldiers alike, so don't assume luck ever played any part in who I am."
God, but it's been a long time since I was his age... Can't be much older then twenty.
"I'll have to show you Junior's Bar sometime, see how it compares."
"Yes, he is speaking Chinese. Cantonese, in fact"
He then bows to Fang, and say in what is doubtless atrocious chinese spoken in an upper class accent
"He is not threatening you. Could you please lead us to where you saw the dead people?"
To the others
"Don't worry about Haamid. He won't hurt anybody that doesn't try to hurt me. He knows where the bodies are, I've asked him to guide us there" gesturing at Fang
Naajy grabs up a hunting rifle and some extra rounds.
"By the way, my name is Major Naajy Singh. This is Haamid"
"OK, that fella's got a tiger. Totally normal."
"Very good. Please follow me."
Fang will then move with Dr. Johnson to the location of the bodies.
Fang and Dr. Johnson move toward the bodies while Jazz the others scan the area for danger.
The two men lying face down are wearing suits tailored in the way of serving men, while the frosty statue appears, upon closer inspection, to actually be a man dressed in the clothes of a driver, covered in layer of ice and frost.
A finger laid on the mens' necks reveals no pulse, and their bodies are cold.
Fang looks around the nearby area for tracks or other signs of passage, but fails to find any.
"It makes no bloody sense. These two were shot, repeatedly, with a large bullet, and-" he twists the body, revealing the arrow shaft. "-and who uses arrows in this day and age? Not to mention whatever caused this unnatural cold. Some new weird weapon?"
"Who throws pointy sticks at other people? I thought everyone used guns!"
Fang shakes his head, looks around, and then points at the trail before proceeding further. As he does, he cracks his knuckles ominously loud in the cold morning air.
"So, are we stuck with a Chinese guy who doesn't speak English? Who's he, by the way?"
"Y'always got me, if'n you're needin some conversating, Doc."
"Just my luck."
"Could be worse. Ever hear of Mumbles O'Reilly? Ain't bad enough he talks like his yap is fulla marbles, he don't ever shut up, neither. Most folk ya can't understand seem ta say less, but not ol' Mumbles."
"The gentleman is named Fang"
To Fang
"None of us know why somebody would be using arrows. They're also asking who you are"
He turns to the others.
"Perhaps I can find out a little about what has been happening here. Please give me a moment"
With that, he bends himself into the lotus position and starts chanting in Tibetan. After a bit, he touches the arrow.
If I can touch one of the bullets, he'd do the same to it. If not, he'd turn to Dr Johnson
"Perhaps you would be good enough to dig one of the bullets out?"
Assuming he can get access to the bullet one way or the other
"Uh, what's he doin?"
William sticks a finger in the wound, digging for the bullet.
"Oh, why of course. Should I also get you a deck of tarot? Or would you rather read his liver?"
Some more mystic ******** like those shamans in Bangalore. Spreading germs with their ritualistic mumbo-jumbo.
"Thank you, no. The bullet should suffice. I've never studied the cards"
It isn't clear whether he even notices the sarcasm but he certainly doesn't react.
Haamid, however, in what is doubtless a coincidence, happens to take that moment to yawn in Dr Johnson's direction showing his massive teeth.
"You can tell them that my adopted father, the honorable detective Lo Quan Zhan, asked me to come and deliver a letter to the man who owned that house. He also told me to help if I could, as something unfortunate was going to happen. I arrived here by ship, presented the letter, and then you all looked like you needed help, so here we are."
as he speaks, Fang again cracks his knuckles in a threatening manner, but after a moment it's clear that it's probably some sort of unconscious habit.
"Oh, hey, youze is psychic! I gotta aunt who's psychic. Man, the marks she scores!"