Wednesday 27 February 2013

The Cult of the Black Fan


In the Gaslight era, the Shanghai district is dominated by the Order of the Black Fan, a cult organisation dedicated to the worship of Nyarlathotep in his incarnation as the Bloated Woman. By the early 1920s this cult had been wiped out in the city to be replaced by a successive organisation called the Order of the Bloated Woman. Needless to say, this avatar of the Outer God is difficult to eliminate and each time it revives itself, a cult following appears around it which is arguably no different from the preceding one.

In Victorian times, the Cult was one of the “Big Eight Gangs” – one of those factions which comprised the Green Circle Gang, later the Green Gang which dominated all criminal activity in Shanghai.

The Black Fan Cult reveres the same texts as its succeeding cabal and, like its successor, identifies its members by means of a tattoo hidden in the left armpit of the adherent; its rituals and other sanguinary practises are all likewise similar with the sole exception that this cult idolises the symbol of the inky fan as an image of its deity. Needless to say, the later cult abandoned this image as one which would lead knowing investigators to unearthing the cult once more.

Like all of the local cults to this excrescence, the members often interbreed with the Deep Ones prevalent along China’s coastline. A high percentage of the cultists display the “Innsmouth Look” and degenerate into fully-fledged Deep Ones in late adulthood. These grotesque hybrids are often used as guards inside the Cult dwellings and are kept hidden away from the general populace.

Like most secretive cults, the Black Fan cultists try to blend in with their surroundings and keep exposure to an absolute minimum. Membership comes from all levels and sectors of society and thus the Cult can bring to bear a great variety of skills and resources. The thing that will reveal any cultist is the presence of the tattoo, in their left armpit, of the Chinese characters for “Black Fan”. Given that the cult passes messages and instructions by means of inky fans, those in the know will be able to detect the presence of the cult by this means also.

The preferred weapon of the Black Fan Cult is another ritual object: the sickle. This is normally a farm implement and fairly common throughout much of China; however, in the hands of the Black Fan Cultists, it is a lethal and dangerous weapon. The Cultists have many superstitions regarding sickles: breaking a sickle is taken as an omen of the Goddess’ disfavour; a sickle lying in a roadway or on a doorstep is taken as a sign that the way is barred to the adherent; dreaming of a sickle is a sign of the Goddess’ blessing, while cutting oneself with one’s own sickle is a sign of one’s own imminent death. It is also considered bad luck to pick up a sickle, whose blade is pointing to the left, with the left hand; the reverse is also true.

The Cult operates ‘smoke and flower houses’ and fan-tan dens wherever it emerges, in order to raise capital; where the Cult succeeds most, however, is in its conduct of pirate activities along the coastline of China. This not only provides the cult with a means of income and of sacrifices to its blasphemous deity but also provides a cover for its presence: most authorities are prepared to acknowledge the existence of pirates but not the activities of a murderous cult with demonic fish creatures for allies.

Average Black Fan Cultist
STR: 13
CON: 11
SIZ: 10
INT: 9
POW: 8
DEX: 13
Move: 8
SAN: 0
Damage Bonus: +1D4
HP: 11

Weapons: Fist 55% (1D3+db); Kick 35% (1D6+db); Grapple 30% (special); Jo Stick 65% (1d6+1d4); Cult Sickle 50% (1d4+3+1d4)
Armour: None
Spells: None
Skills: Cthulhu Mythos 08%; Dodge 65%; English 15%; Hide 60%; Jump 55% Listen 65%; Speak Chinese 60%; Martial Arts 40%; Sneak 55%; Spot Hidden 35%
SAN Loss: It costs no SAN to see a Black Fan Cultist

*****

Average Half Deep One Black Fan Cultist
STR: 10-11
CON: 10-11
SIZ: 13
INT: 13
POW: 10-11
DEX: 10-11
APP: 6
Move: 8/8 Swimming
SAN: 0
Damage Bonus: +0
HP: 11-12

Weapons: Fist 55% (1D3+db); Grapple 35% (special); Cult Sickle 35% (1d4+3); Small Club 50% (1d6); Harpoon 45% (1d8)
Armour: None
Spells: Those with a POW greater than 14 may know 1D4 spells connected to Cthulhu and its kin; otherwise, none
Skills: Boating 40%; Fishing 65%; Listen 45%; Spot Hidden 40%; Swim 90%
SAN Loss: It costs no SAN to see a Half Deep One Black Fan Cultist, unless knowing the nature of the creature has some bearing on the story, which the Keeper wishes to exploit, in which case 0/1D4

*****

The Sacred Texts of the Black Fan Cult

Goddess of the Black Fan

“Behind the Black Fan, the soul-twister simpers,
snake-armed and slickened, inflated with blood fat.
The dragon-toothed feaster, gluts down grey lilies,
the gracious donation of children left twitching...”
-Liu Chan-fang, Goddess of the Black Fan

This collection of obscene verse is considered the most sacred text in the worship of Nyarlathotep in his avatar of the Bloated Woman. The work is usually encountered in the form of a scroll and contains 64 verses dedicated to the activities of the Bloated Woman. Needless to say, the content is bloodthirsty and rhapsodic, given to purple descriptions of the avatar’s most base activities.

At first sight the scroll appears to conform to Taoist formulae, with the traditional 64 verses reminiscent of the I Ching and much of the less brutal imagery concerned with traditional Taoist tropes. This is where the reader must be on guard however: the suggestion of a hidden Taoist text within the poetry is a ruse devised to lead the student to discover a formula for summoning Nyarlathotep in his chosen Chinese form.
As far as academia and the burgeoning field of sinology is concerned, the Goddess of the Black Fan is a ‘lost’ text, a selection of poetry supposedly dating from the Warring States Period, attributed to an author named Liu Chan-fang, about whom nothing is known apart from his name. The title of the text appears occasionally on lists of books targeted for burning in the Ch’in and Han periods and also in the Sung Dynasty, and this is the sole reason that the text is known at all outside of cult circles. The cultists work extremely hard to keep things this way.

A comparative reading between this work and the Tale of Priest Kwan – the other text associated with the worship of this deity - reveals that one is a commentary upon the other; the Tale however is disguised as a work unto itself and its explicatory function is not immediately obvious.

(Source: Masks of Nyarlathotep, Larry DiTillio, Lynn Willis, et al.)

Chinese; Liu Chan-fang; Warring States Period; Sanity Loss: 0/1d4; +5 percentiles to Cthulhu Mythos; average 14 weeks to study and comprehend
Spells: (INTx5 on d100 roll to see if the spell is detectable) Contact Nyarlathotep

The Tale of Priest Kwan

“...A form most majestic appears before proud Hun Tao – the Goddess Herself comes to humble him! Her graceful tentacles embrace his mealy-fleshed followers. Her dragon fangs test the milksops’ shrieking throats. Her sickles reap frantic limbs wherever She will! Her five mouths chant victory, while Hun Tao weeps and shivers in his empty hall!”
-The Tale of Priest Kwan

This obscure work of poetry recounts the adventures of the priest Kwan, who receives the wisdom of the ‘Pearl Empress’ (Nyarlathotep, as the Bloated Woman avatar) and who then sets out to convert the world to her worship. There are rollicking sections detailing his encounter and conversion of pirates and a long middle section which relates his meeting with the rich nobleman Hun Tao whom he converts after a long and complex discourse, proving his devotion to the cause. Sections of the poetry discuss Deep Ones and their beliefs in regard to a ‘sleeping god’. For the most part though, the work details and gives a rationale for the various cult practises used by the Order of the Bloated Woman.

An infamous section involves a betting match between Hun Tao and Kwan, where they wager on the sex of unborn babies brought before them. The pregnant mothers are tied to poles and disembowelled or thrown to the ground and cut open with axes to retrieve the foetuses. The outcome of the match sees the loser, Hun Tao, having to grant Priest Kwan another day in which to convince the nobleman of the potency of his Goddess.

A close reading of this text in conjunction with the Goddess of the Black Fan reveals that this work is actually a rigorous commentary on that other text, albeit encoded within the appearance of a picaresque novel form.

(Source: Masks of Nyarlathotep, Larry DiTillio, Lynn Willis, et al.)

Chinese: The Tale of Priest Kwan; Anonymous; China, no date but likely from the Yuan Dynasty; Sanity Loss: 1/1d6; +5 percentiles to Cthulhu Mythos; average 18 weeks to study & comprehend

Spells: (Roll INTx1 for each spell to see if its presence is detected within the convoluted verses) “Wisdom of the Pearl Empress” (Contact Deity: Nyarlathotep in his avatar of the Bloated Woman); any or all of the T’ai p’ing t’ao

Spells

Enchant Fan

The Black Fan Cultists are able to embed spells into appropriately-coloured (ie., black) fans which activate whenever the device is spread open and waved at the intended target(s). Activating the magic is possible by anyone wielding the fan and these devices are sometimes given to Cult operatives to assist in specific tasks.

The creator of the fan spends a week making the object and infusing it with 1 point of POW. Once created the form of the spell to be embedded is written upon the black paper of the fan along with invocations to the Bloated Woman: the caster offers up all the requisite POW and SAN that a normal casting of the desired spell usually requires at this point. The invocations to the Goddess take the place of the usual material components of the spell (for example, the Elder Sign-carved stone normally required for Summoning Nightgaunts). Once completed, the fan is shut and may not be opened again until the spell which it contains needs to be cast: if it is opened and not immediately waved at a target, or if it is broken, the spell is lost.

Spells which normally operate through a specific medium – Elder Sign, Baneful Dust of Hermes Trismegistus, Red Sign of Shudde M’ell, Enchant Cane – will not work using this method, as they require a specific object, focus, or substance to operate upon, or about which the magic coalesces. Bind, Call, Contact, Dismiss and Summoning spells, will work but only at a set rate depending upon how many Magic Points the caster imbued the fan with at its creation.

Spells typically embedded into these fans are as follows: Alter Weather; Attract Fish; Bind Enemy; Black Binding; Blight/Bless Crop; Breath of the Deep; Bring Haboob; Cause Blindness; Cause Disease; Charm Animal; Cloud Memory; Create Mist of Releh; Dampen Light; Death Spell; Deflect Harm; Detect Enchantment; Dominate; Enthrall Victim; Evil Eye; Find Gate; Flesh Ward; Heal; Healing; Implant Fear; Lame Animal; Levitate; Mental Suggestion; Mesmerize; Mindblast; Nightmare; Power Drain; Raise Night Fog; Sense Life; Shrivelling; Spectral Razor; the T’ai p’ing t’ao; Unmask Demon; Wither Limb; and Wrack. Other spells will need to be considered by the Keeper on a case-by-case basis.

The one who activates the Enchanted Fan must make a SAN Roll when doing so, with a 1/1D4 penalty.

*****

Gambling

The Chinese are a gambling people and they do it whole-heartedly. The westerners who encountered the Chinese predilection for the wager were universally surprised by the intensity of the speculation. The traditional form of gambling for the Chinese was mah-jongg, a complicated game with tiles that plays much like gin rummy. Vast halls devoted to mah-jongg and its players were established, initially in the Old Chinese Town in Shanghai but later throughout all parts of the city, and these operated far into the night, raucous with the rattling of the ivory tiles. Many mah-jongg hall operators combined their activities with opium purveyors and sing-song girls to extend the range of their services and these establishments operated around the clock.

But mah-jongg was only one of a range of gambling opportunities for the Chinese. The foreigners brought horse-racing, dog-racing and boxing into their lives. At first, the Chinese had no conception as to why the white man was so obsessed with horses and dogs, seeing these activities as games with no serious purpose. Once the stadiums and racing fixtures had been built however, and the money began to flow, the Chinese arrived in their thousands.

The International Settlement was the first to build a race track followed by the French Concession shortly afterwards; additionally the French built the Canidrome to race whippets. Ultimately, the Chinese constructed their own race track in the Municipality north of Hongkew and conducted their own race meets apart from the foreign communities.

Boxing was another matter however. The Chinese have a long tradition of martial arts and were less than impressed with the western demonstrations which they were seeing. Nevertheless, they were willing to bet on the outcomes. Fixed fights and thrown bouts were as common here as they were anywhere at this time, but they were largely controlled by foreign interests, albeit with some heavy pressure from the Shanghai underworld. A more sinister form of gambling existed however, and its roots lay deep in the tradition of secret societies for which the Chinese have ever had a predilection – this was fan tan.

Fan tan

Fan tan means ‘constantly spreading out’; it is played by revealing a pile of randomly selected coins and removing them in groups of four until a number of coins, four or less, remain. The players bet upon what they believe the outcome will be. The game is run by a consortium of leaders who front the money to establish the ‘house’; often this group is linked to an existing tong or triad society and has the same or similar ‘officers’ in attendance. These operations are incredibly lucrative and often form the capital-raising wing of groups like the Cult of the Black Fan.

The elements of the fan tan game are as follows: on the floor of the room is an eighteen-inch square of metal, either tin or brass, with each side numbered from 1 to 4. This is called the t’an ching, or ‘spreading out square’. In poorer establishments this square is simply inked onto the floor or onto a mat. Two men are required to run the game and these two are normally the stakeholders in the fan tan venture. The first is called the t’an kun or ‘ruler of the spreading out’. To initiate the game he takes a handful of coins from a receptacle nearby and places them in a shallow bowl called the t’an k’oi, or ‘spreading out cover’; this he overturns near the square, keeping the coins within covered. The players then place their bets: the aim is to decide if, after the coins are systematically removed by a ritual process, there will be 1, 2, 3 or 4 coins left.

Players place their money alongside the square according to their bets. If the gambler chooses a single number as the outcome, he places his coins against the number selected, placed upon a red card called the kau li, or ‘dog’s tongue’. This is called mai fan, or ‘buying a single number’ and, if it wins, pays back four times the original stake. The player can place their money on a number without the red card: this is called mai ch’ing t’au, or ‘buying the front of the square’. In this case, he wins double his money back if the number which his money is on is the result, or regains his stake if either of the two side numbers wins. A third option is mai kok, or ‘buying the corner’, wherein he places his bet on the corner between two numbers: if either number wins, the player wins double his money; if any other number is the result, he loses. Finally, there is mai nip, or ‘buying a twist’: in this scenario, the gambler places his bet towards the corner, rather than the centre, of a side and places the kau li on top of his stake. He wins double if his number, or the number opposite, eventuates, but loses with any other result.

The t’an kun proceeds to remove the coins: to do this he has a long tapering rod called the t’an pong (‘spreading out rod’) and he eliminates the coins four at a time until there are only four or less coins left. Once the result is determined, the second administrator, the ho k’un or cashier, pays out to the winners or takes their money.

There is a great deal of tradition and superstition in the running of fan tan and it is all reminiscent of the tong societies. The coins that are used are ritually washed and polished, rubbed with vinegar and dried in a jar filled with moist sawdust; the room in which the game is played is traditionally painted white, the colour of mourning and which signifies loss of money, designed to favour the house odds; scraps of orange peel are kept in the box with the coins to bring the house good fortune. The officers resemble the ‘Incense Master’ and the ‘White Paper Fan’ of traditional tongs and there is often an enforcer (not unlike the ‘Red Pole’) who simultaneously guards the door of the betting place and alerts passers-by of its presence.

After the evening’s events, it is traditional to arrange a meal for the participants. This feast is conducted in near silence, most talk – especially concerning gambling – being strenuously avoided. The presence of a good cook was thought mandatory and did much to avert the gaze of the authorities; however, the gamblers would leave immediately if someone joined their feast after they had started to dine. Particularly repugnant was the word for ‘book’ or shu which, in Chinese, is very similar to the word ‘to lose’: players abstained from reading before attending sessions of fan tan and would even forgo their evening’s betting if they were jostled, or if a cart or other barrier, crossed their way en route to the fan tan rooms.

The officials of the fan tan gatherings were paid according to their participation. They usually received a stipend of about 25 US dollars a month in return for their services plus a percentage of each evening’s take; given that this amounted to about a half an hour’s work an evening, this was good money. In the event that the house lost overall, the winners were given free rent of the establishment for an evening to capitalise upon their gains.

Occasionally the fan tan rooms opened up independently of the tongs or triads; in these cases the local groups made sure to claim protection money from the consortium, in an amicable arrangement ... or otherwise.

*****
The House of the Black Fan

This is the headquarters of the Black Fan Cult circa 1895. It is a fan tan joint, which also operates as an opium den. Following tradition, the House also acts as a restaurant for its patrons – no decent fan tan outfit would be caught dead without a fully-equipped kitchen and a competent chef.

The House stands at the corner of two streets within the Hongkew maze north of the Bund in the old American Concession; the walls are whitewashed brick render, featureless and white, without windows. The front door of the House is at the corner of the crossroads - a pair of heavy, iron-bound wooden valves atop two semi-circular steps and surmounted by an open black fan, perched on a small shelf above: at all times, there is an obviously well-armed guard on duty here, vetting all those trying to enter.

Each room in the House contains a listed number of occupants. In addition, there is a 20% chance that the room contains an additional 1D2 individuals.

1 – Fan Tan Room

The room beyond these doors is a typical fan tan room. The walls are whitewashed and, in the centre of the floor, is a square made of strips of tin nailed to the wood; the numbers 1 to 4 in Chinese characters, are drawn around this square. The floor is littered by squares of red paper: these are kau li (“dogs’ tongues”) used to bet in fan tan. There are two tables here: one bearing a long tapered rod and a covered bowl filled with coins and orange-peel strips, next to which is a stool; the other has a chair and carries a cash box (empty) and a pile of the kau li.

2 - Corridor

There is a single door out of this room (STR 12) and it will require some bashing or a Lockpick or Mechanical Repair roll to bypass it if the visitors are uninvited. The door leads to a long winding corridor: to the south is a heavy curtain; across the corridor is another door (again, STR 12); to the north the corridor turns to the east.

From the south, the curtain conceals a set of stairs and a locked door to the street outside (this can easily be unlocked from here); the door opposite, leads to area 3 and is locked, requiring specialised rolls or brute force to kick it in; to the north, the corridor turns to the east and leads past a shuttered and barred window; beyond this is a door leading to another set of stairs and a small foyer leading to the outside. In this entryway are many small, lidded buckets, forming a hazard to hastily progressing characters (DEX x 5 to avoiding tripping on them, if hurrying through here). These are full of human excrement and are representative of the standard toilet facilities of such an organisation in Shanghai: these “honey-pots” would normally be placed outside at close of business and would be emptied by the night-soil man the following morning.

Another hazard here is the loophole in the wall opposite the door: this allows the guard in the room beyond to see who is using this exit and to take steps to prevent them if necessary. The guard has a Spot Hidden roll of 45% and a Rifle skill of 35%; he will detain and shoot at anyone passing through, should he see them, if he feels they are acting suspiciously. The door leading to the street outside is locked but can easily be disabled.

3 - Opium Den

Beyond this door is a fully-functioning opium den. Several cots are arrayed along the northern wall while, to the south is a table with a chair, on which is an abacus, a candle, a box of matches, a collection of pipes and a box, which holds pellets of opium and a handful of pipe-cleaners; there is also a sizable amount of Mexican Silver Dollars inside. To the south, a beaded curtain obscures the kitchen beyond and a locked door (STR 12) bars progress to the west. There are several opium addicts here - oblivious to everything going on around them - lying on the cots.

4 - Kitchen

Every fan tan joint worth the name has a fully-equipped kitchen and the House of the Black Fan is no exception: this is a kitchen in full swing, with all the cleavers and woks full of hot oil the Keeper could hope for. Here are a head cook and two kitchenhands ready to defend themselves with their knives and pepper-pots and chilli-oil. Let the chips (as it were) fall where they may.

Enterprising intruders may notice (Spot Hidden roll) that the cooking range is powered by gas and they may well decide to use this in defeating the menace before them. Otherwise, there is a locked door here (easily disabled from within) which leads to the noisome alley outside and thence to the street.

5 - Temple Entrance

The next corridor is very different from the others: for starters, the walls are a dark red colour, instead of whitewashed white. At the northern end of this hall is a small table on top of which are a flower arrangement and a carved dragon-lion made of soapstone; there is also a three-legged brass urn full of sand, studded with joss-sticks, which emit a heavy perfume. From here the corridor kicks right: the northern wall is a barrier of wooden pierce-work – like a rood screen – behind which is a heavy brocade curtain hiding what lies beyond from sight; along the southern wall are two heavily-lacquered coffers and a large bronze Buddha on a teak stand: in the coffers can be found copies, in scroll form, of the Tale of Priest Kwan and the blasphemous Goddess of the Black Fan. Occasional chanting is heard from beyond the curtains.

At the eastern end of the corridor is a heavy door with a peephole: this door is locked (STR 20).

6 - Strong Room

This room is the strong room for the temple of the Black Fan Cult. If interlopers are attacked outside of this location, they will find the door locked and the inhabitants ready. There are (at least) two cult members defending the area: they are armed with sickles and are not shy about using them. Defeating the guardians will reveal that there are several bags of opium here along with two boxes of Mexican Silver Dollars. These are hidden behind a Chinese screen at the far end of the room. The players may also notice a 4-foot tall chimney in this room, blocked off at the top by a metal grille: from below they can hear ghastly cries and sounds of inhuman savagery, emanating from a lower level within the building (ie. the Horrible Basement).

7 - The Room of the Presence

The first thing to be wary of with this room is the act of rushing in: there is a trap-door just inside that will drop invaders down into the Horrible Basement, unless they make a DEX x 5 (or Dodge) roll to bypass it.

If the players avoid this peril, they will encounter a refined and beautiful Chinese woman who speaks their language and appears, to all intents and purposes, to be on their side. This is of course, the Bloated Woman herself, using the power of the Black Fan to manipulate the senses of her enemies.

Nyarlathotep, in his form as the Bloated Woman, is the threat confronting the party here. She is able to manipulate the minds of those who oppose her, using their weaknesses to induce them. Along with her here are the Red Pole and the White Paper Fan, executives in the Bloated Woman’s elite, who will eagerly die in her defence.

According to the needs of the Keeper’s story, the Bloated Woman might well be currently weak and in need of sustenance: she will await an opportunity to feast upon the first victim she can find. This will be either the Red Pole or the White Paper Fan if she cannot get any of the party members to submit to her hypnotic whims (NB: that she cannot feed without dropping her illusory disguise). Players who see her fulfil her gruesome appetites will have to make Sanity Rolls to oppose her vile schemes.

This encounter should ideally devolve upon the issues developed by the alien entity; the party is up against an ancient deity with untold power: their strength should lie in their ability to stay the course towards their chosen ends, in this case freedom, clear of the Bloated Woman’s interference. In the next room are 10 cultists who will come to their goddess’s defence if requested.

8 - The Room of Chanting

Beyond the pierce-work wooden barrier and curtain that conceals the horrible excrescence that is the Bloated Woman, is the area where her more mundane worshippers pray. 10 of these fellows are chanting here but will break their devotions to come to their Goddess’ aid.

9 - Armoury

This is the Armoury of the Temple. In here are any number of sickles and three rifles which are used to guard the two loopholes monitoring the temple and its approaches. There are at least two cultists here at all times.

10-The Horrible Basement

In the basement below are 20 degraded humans, bereft of Sanity and clothing, and wallowing in the “refuse of human occupation” (SAN roll: 1d3/1d10). All of these captives mutter vaguely the words of various blasphemous poems from the Tale of Priest Kwan and are incapable of identifying themselves; they all reverently await the opportunity to feed the dragon-toothed goddess, and are completely out of their minds.

*****

THE BLOATED WOMAN, Avatar of Nyarlathotep

This avatar of Nyarlathotep takes the form of a 600-pound, seven-foot-tall vaguely female horror. It has two ropey tentacles instead of arms and many lesser tentacles sprouting from its rolls of sickly yellow-grey flesh; another tentacle sprouts from below its eyes. The head has five lumpy chins each supporting a ruby-lipped, fanged mouth. This monstrous bulk is swathed in yellow and black silk, with a girdle from which hang several sickles and the infamous Black Fan.

If destroyed in this form, Nyarlathotep collapses into a heap of reflexively twitching tentacles which burrow quickly into the earth and disintegrate. The Bloated Woman rises once more from this wreckage in 1d6+2 months.

Cult

This avatar is worshipped almost exclusively in China with Shanghai as its major cult centre. Sacrifices to the Bloated Woman take the form of mutilations and dismemberments by a sacred cult sickle, in a process reminiscent of the ‘Death of A Thousand Cuts’.

The cult has been purged a number of times in the past but, given the ability of this creature to regenerate, it has re-emerged as many times. The cult has adopted many pseudonyms over the years –‘The Cult of the Bloated Woman’, ‘The Cult of the Black Fan’, ‘The Golden Crescent Tong’ – and has managed to survive most attempts at persecution. An attempt was made in the 1920s to establish a cult centre in Paris; however, this manifestation was successfully negated by persons unknown.

In ancient times the cult was generally small and secretive, occasionally emerging as part of the ritual practises of scattered chiu chao organisations, especially amongst the pirate tribes of Fukien province. Recently however, the cult has blossomed and is growing ever stronger with a centralised organisation emerging in Shanghai.

Members of the cult can be identified by the cognoscenti in a number of ways: firstly, they usually have the characters which identify their deity tattooed in their left armpit; secondly, they tend to arm themselves with sickles and. for preference, choose to hack off the limbs of their targets and retreat, watching their victims bleed to death; finally, they tend to pass messages amongst their ranks by means of black paper fans, upon which secret, encoded missives have been written. The priests of the Order all wear black and yellow silk robes in emulation of their deity.

Due to the coastal focus of the cult, it has forged strong links with the Deep One communities of the eastern seaboard of China. This has led to the fact that many cult members are Deep Ones, or Deep One hybrids themselves.

Attacks & Special Effects

The avatar can attack twice in each round with its major tentacles. When first grabbed by one of these appendages, the victim takes 3d3 points of damage. On subsequent rounds, the victim is gripped and mouthed by one of the revolting maws: this ‘Kiss of the Bloated Woman’ drains INT at a rate of 1d6 permanently from the victim. As long as the victim has INT left, they can try to escape by pitting their STR against the ‘Woman’s on the Resistance Table. When the victim has no INT left, their skull bursts open and the avatar gulps down the still-living brains.

The Outer God has a number of smaller tentacles which can attack, wielding sickles. 1d6 of these limbs can attack opponents in a single round.

THE BLOATED WOMAN, Goddess of the Black Fan

STR: 31
CON: 44
SIZ: 26
INT: 86
POW: 100
DEX: 19
Move: 12
SAN: n/a
Damage Bonus: +3D6
HP: 35

Weapons: Arm Tentacle 85%, damage: 3d3+hold for “Kiss”; Sickle 50%, damage: 1d4+3+db; “Kiss of the Bloated Woman” automatic when Grappled, damage: destroys 1d6 INT
Armour: None
Spells: The Bloated Woman knows all Mythos spells
Skills: As the Keeper desires
SAN Loss: It costs 1d8/1d10 Sanity points to see the Bloated Woman in her true form, undisguised by the Black Fan

The Black Fan

Exclusively the province of that avatar of Nyarlathotep known as the Bloated Woman, this artefact has the ability, in the hands of that creature, of concealing its blasphemous bulk and giving it the appearance of a beautiful Chinese courtesan. Some sources say that the ‘Fan must be kept opened before the face of this creature in order to confer its benefits; however the Tale of Priest Kwan mentions that the ‘Fan must merely be kept open and moving about the person of the ‘Woman in order to work. More research is obviously required.

Regardless of the exclusivity of this artefact, it must be pointed out that members of the cult to this obscene presence use similar fans in their magic casting and other rituals. Triad spells to deflect harm, as well as others from the t’ai p’ing t’ao, are often inscribed upon such inky fans, along with other, less usual blessings from their ‘goddess’. The fans are also useful in identifying the cult members to each other, as well as the cognoscenti, and are often used to relay hidden messages.

*****

Sunday 24 February 2013

"Hott Hedz" - Part 7


"My plan of attack was a bit spur-of-the-moment, but I was improvising. I thought I’d start by making an incision around the top of neck above the Adam’s Apple. I suspected that this old fellow had died from something cancerous, for which he was taking no serious treatment: there were plenty of syringe marks on his arms indicating regular doses of something, most likely painkillers, but there was no sign that he’d been on a drip. No chemotherapy then; the full head of hair was also a giveaway. With the lack of personal hygiene and the bedsores, I figured that he’d probably come to us from a hospice, where he’d been a cranky patient, left ‘til last on some nurse’s “To-Do” list. I was unsure about how well plumbed-in this operating table was, so I thought I’d take this first cut nice and easy, avoid slicing open as many of the larger neck vessels as I could so as to not make a mess.

The bright edge of the scalpel sank into the skin, just below the left point of his jaw. A vivid red trickle ran out and curved away to the back of his neck..."

Saturday 23 February 2013

Money, money, money...



"Eagle Dollars": The local Shanghai currency for 'legitimate' business. Imported from Mexico, they were certified 100% pure silver and stamped with Chinese characters to indicate their status.
 
*****
The Taipans & their Compradors

“A taipan, let me explain, is a red-faced man (the redder the face, the taipanner the taipan) who has either sufficient brains or bluff to make others work for him and yet retain the kudos and the bulk of the spoil himself."

-Jay Denby, Letters from China

The economic life of Shanghai was ultimately controlled by the taipans. These were entrepreneurs who moved to the city from Canton in southern China after the opening of the treaty ports in the wake of the Treaty of Nanking. In Canton, these businessmen had been forced to occupy a cramped ghetto, strictly policed by indifferent Chinese mandarins and they suffered frequent food shortages, curfews and occasional attacks while living there. Some taipans chose other ports as havens, depending upon the utility to their business efforts; many however, chose Shanghai because of the reassuring presence of the British Navy and its gunboats. As well, Ningpo and Shanghai were less frequently ravaged by pirates as were the other treaty ports of Amoy, Foochow and Canton.

Once ensconced along the Whangpoo, the taipans settled in to the business of making copious amounts of money. The majority of taipans indulged at least part of their operations in the warehousing and distribution of opium, to which the outcome of the First Opium War had entitled them and which was the touch paper for their newfound prosperity. However the freedom to make money, unfettered by Imperial interference and in the less volatile northern territories of China, allowed the business-minded to find many avenues for the pursuit and cultivation of wealth.

Essential to the life of the taipan were two locally employed staff members each chosen with care when the taipan settled in: the first was his ‘boy’, a kind of cross between a valet and a butler, whose duties ran the gamut of dressing and feeding his master to running errands and delivering messages. Inevitably, in a taipan’s household, the ‘boy’ held a great deal of autocratic power over the other staff.

The other person on the taipan’s payroll and even more important than his domestic staff, was the comprador. These were enigmatic men, initially recruited from a taipan’s former dealings out of Canton, good with business and figures and able to speak and write the local language, something which no Westerner usually bothered to do. The comprador had intimate knowledge of the taipan’s capital and income and eagerly set out to extend their masters’ domains. Inevitably, they also managed to make phenomenal amounts of money themselves and, in time, had their own businesses and mansions alongside those of the taipans, just as elegant and magnificent.

The relationship between the taipan and his comprador was an unusual and delicate one. The comprador usually spoke to his boss in the Pidgin tongue, a demeaning and shameful exercise but necessary due to the taipan’s invariable lack of linguistic flexibility. The taipan assumed a position of social superiority over their servant, due to the fact that his nationality gave the both of them unparalleled access to the economic structure of China; however they both knew that without the comprador’s skills and nous, the relationship would ultimately prove fruitless. In this vein, they both agreed to live without comment on each other’s lifestyles and points of view.

The taipans lived a lifestyle of sordid excess. Meals consisted of delicacies and beverages imported from across the globe and lunch would often take up a major portion of each working day, comprised of many courses of roasted meats and accompanying wines. The stereotypical image of a taipan of this time is a sweating, red-faced Englishman in fine, sober clothes, straining to contain a paunchy, bandy-legged form. By contrast, the comprador was often caricatured as thin, sly and sardonic, encased in the traditional Manchu garb but made from the finest silk brocades and with outrageous long, lacquered fingernails: the archetype of the Fu Manchu character.

After this new state of affairs had been established, new blood entered upon the scene. Stories of abundant wealth to be made in China lured young men from England, America and France to come and try their luck. To begin with these newcomers had connexions to the extant taipans – nephews, sons and so forth – and were sent to test their wings; later, these hopefuls arrived from all over with only a few hurriedly assembled letters of introduction to serve them. They all started in various firms as clerks, or foremen, depending upon their aptitudes and their ability to sink or swim was a common point of conversation for the lunching taipans. They became known as ‘griffins’ and while the majority returned home after a few years somewhat richer than when they arrived, a small few went on to replace the taipans there before them. A sorry few fell into decrepitude, distracted and spent, only to be sent home by means of the pooled donations of benevolent funds, arranged for this purpose.

Opium

"...the Rivers Phlegethon and Lethe were united in it, carrying fire and destruction wherever it flows, and leaving a deadly forgetfulness wherever it has passed."

-The Rev. Dr. Wells Williams, The Middle Kingdom

Opium was an open secret in the International communities: it was a deadly drug, outrageous to Christian thought and a breeder of ‘weak moral character’. That being said, 1 in 10 Chinese citizens was an addict of the ‘foreign mud’ and it was therefore a reliable investment, guaranteed to bring in huge returns. The First and Second Opium Wars granted the foreigners the right to cultivate this enterprise as they saw fit and, for awhile, salved the consciences of those embroiled in its traffic. In England the money being made in such trade was, in private, eagerly pocketed, while the practise was publicly decried in Parliament.

The French took a different approach. In the Concession the business of making money from the drug was largely turned over to the police force which controlled its distribution within the Concession limits. Profits were funnelled back directly into the French Government coffers and helped fund their colonial efforts in Indochina (later Viet Nam) and Annam.
 
“Different races also seem to be differently affected by [opium’s] use. It seldom, perhaps never, intoxicates the European; it seems habitually to intoxicate the Oriental. It does not generally distort the person of the English or American opium-eater; in the East it is represented as frequently producing this effect.”

-Horace B. Day, The Opium Habit

By 1860, the efforts of missionaries and other organisations began to have an effect: the opium business began to be seen as a dirty business. Many taipans gradually withdrew their efforts from the opium trade and turned to other, equally lucrative, areas of investment. The Jewish taipans, spearheaded by the Sassoon Dynasty and the Kadoorie Clan, were the only opium dealers after this period, eager to step in after the other traders had washed their hands of the business.

Gun-running

As the shine fell off opium dealing, an immediate business alternative became obvious. The Taiping Revolt raged across mainland China and neither side – the rebels nor the Imperials – were capably outfitted to have a lasting impact. Shanghai taipans began running guns to both sides, introducing the technical advantages of wars being fought in the European and American homelands to the Chinese conflict.

In government conclaves in China and abroad there was open objection to this state of affairs. Governments, it was thought, who held treaties with China should only provide armaments to the representative forces of China, not her enemies, even if they were her own citizens. The taipans manoeuvred around such objection by selling their guns to third parties who passed them on to the highest bidders, without regard to creed or allegiance. It fell back on the Imperial Government to ensure that they were simply better funded than the Taipings and so, snatch up the better weaponry.
 
The Property Boom

After the Taipings seized Nanking, a panic spread throughout the countryside between the ancient Ming Capital and Shanghai; refugees fearing for their lives flooded into the port city, looking to escape death at the hands of the rebels. An estimated 350,000 refugees swarmed into Shanghai, swelling its already crowded streets. The majority of these escapees moved to the Old Chinese City; however, it rapidly became obvious that the Chinese heart of the city could not contain such an influx of people. Quick to see an opportunity, the taipans and their compradors began to buy up large tracts of land and threw up hastily-erected terrace houses, moving tenants into them even before they were finished. Rents doubled and re-doubled in the boom and once grand estates were carved into ghettoes in order to maximise business opportunities.

The blatant gouging of tenants was bad but it was about to get much worse: an offshoot of the Taipings, the Small Swords, acted to oppose foreign interests by occupying the Old Chinese City. The fear that this move generated only increased the land grab, as refugees within the Old City fled to find safety in other areas of Shanghai. Even after the Green Gang kicked the Small Swords out of their temporary residence, the property boom went on, becoming the safest investment in Shanghai, only to be surpassed by a new money-spinner:

Cotton

Cotton and silk, were not exactly new in Shanghai – the Chinese had been trading these products out of the port city for centuries. However, the fan kuei took awhile to catch on to its lucrative power and it wasn’t until the ramifications of the American Civil War hit home that they began to invest heavily in the enterprise. Textiles were produced abundantly across the northern plains of China and most of them funnelled into Shanghai to be exported across the globe. After buying up existing production sites, the taipans installed new technologies to boost output. These factories worked day and night with rotating shifts of workers enduring appalling conditions to ensure requisite output levels. Injuries due to exhaustion or a lack of training were common but few spoke out for fear of losing their employment in the overcooked economic atmosphere of the port city.

Another trade also boomed as a result of the interest in cotton, one that was swiftly capitalised upon by the Chinese – the fashion industry. With a growing foreign community – especially in terms of its female constituents – a demand for the latest fashions from Paris, New York and London steadily grew. Local tailors were often brought pictures of the latest dresses and asked to replicate them using the local cloth; soon, they were producing their own versions of these Western clothes, for men and women, Celestials or foreigners.

Gunboat Diplomacy & Capitalism
 
“It is my business to make a fortune with the least possible loss of time. In two or three years at farthest, I hope to realise a fortune, and get away; and what can it matter to me, if all Shanghai disappear afterwards, in fire or flood? You must not expect men in my situation to condemn themselves to years of prolonged exile in an unhealthy climate for the benefit of posterity. We are money-making, practical men. Our business is to make money, as much and as fast as we can – and for this end, all modes and means are good which the law permits.”

-Western Taipan, before the Boxer Rebellion

Now that the taipans had commodities to move, the obvious area to move into after production was transport. Shipping, insurance of freight and licensing became a whole new realm to exploit. Goods couldn’t move without the proper permits (called ‘sclew’ in Pidgin) and the presence of rebels and pirates in the waters around China made the industry hazardous at best. Following on from the heady days of the First Opium War, many taipans built transport companies that resembled small private armies, complete with gunboats and set about enforcing their will upon whoever was in need of their services – invariably, everybody.

Chinese "cash" - the local currency - fresh from the casting process, before being broken down into individual coins. This form of currency was used for everyday purchases within the city.