The City of Sin

The Cheong-sam and High Heels

In Shanghai, more than anywhere else at the time, exposure to foreigners and the textile industry boom meant that there was an intense interest in fashions. Many foreign women brought notions of fashionable attire to their local tailors and caused an interest in the new Western styles among the local Chinese. Soon the familiar qipao was being worn over Western trousers with Western shoes, and many Chinese men affected the foreigner’s taste in hats.

After the influx of White Russians, many Chinese women were exposed for the first time to the concept of the high heeled shoe, as worn by the Russian women refugees. Seeing the line it gave to their legs, and seeing how enamoured the local men – Chinese and otherwise – were of them, the Shanghainese women took to wearing them with gusto. To enhance the effect, they took the traditional qipao and re-made it in sumptuous brocade, with a revealing slit up one or both sides to show off their long legs. This design became known as the cheong-sam and with its invention the ‘Shanghai Lady’ was born.

‘Shanghai Ladies’

“Me no worry

Me no care

Me going to marry a millionaire

And if he die

Me no cry

Me going to get another guy.”

-1940s popular song refrain

This term became synonymous throughout the Jazz Age for prostitutes and world-weary women of negotiable virtue. It was a more ambiguous term than the previously common epithet ‘sing-song girl’ and therefore had more currency with the younger crowd that monopolised the nightclubs between the Wars. The smoking girl with the shingled hair, dressed in a cheong-sam and high heeled shoes was as likely to be a prostitute as not, just as she was as likely to be White Russian as not.

The Chinese movie industry picked up on this trend and extended it hugely, although initially they were unwilling for their actresses to cut their hair too short. The stories they screened were mostly sentimental and indulgent, ending in the usual return to traditional values, but not before indulging in a wholesale exposure of the ‘corrupt and fallen lifestyles’ of their heroines. As always, media recognition and product endorsements followed for such queens of the silver screen as the tragic Ruan Lingyu and others of her ilk. Posters proliferated, usually with a green-tinged background, and today these command high prices as collectible ephemera.

The impact that this state of affairs had on the prostitution rackets was immense and, largely, positive. Women began to see themselves as rulers of their own fates and to rise out of the shackles of the previous eras. A version of emancipation took place where women took more control of their situations and demanded more equal shares of their earnings – the crime was no less organised, but women had a stronger role within it

Opium dens and ‘Frenchtown’

“...They can continue their opium dealings just so long as the concession benefits – very materially – and is spared much of the trouble to which foreign authorities in China are so often heirs.”

-The British Consul-general, 1930

Because the French outsourced administration of their area to the French Governors in Indochina, and because their police force was largely composed of Chinese gangsters under the control of Huang Jinrong, the policing of the French Concession was hugely corrupt. All opium dens and brothels within the quarter had to be registered with the police force and they had to pay a substantial cut of their profits to the French; this cut was not sufficient to deter these operations from continuing their activities. In fact, the French lived large off illegal earnings and turned a blind eye to it all.

The presence of ‘squeeze’ in all of the dealings in Frenchtown, meant that Huang Jinrong profited enormously as the Chief of Police and this allowed him to build the Great World Amusement Centre on the borders of the French Concession to further garner funds from the unwary. This complex offered ice-skating, dancing and movies to the punters, not to mention restaurants, nightclubs, bars, theatres and ... opium dens!

Missionaries and their role

By the 1930s, Shanghai was a dead issue for the missionary community. Nothing could be done; nothing would be done. The only option was to head out West and ensure that nothing like this ever happened again. The Catholics and some Bible societies were happy to stay in Shanghai and promote what they had already begun: cathedrals and Bible publishing houses could always count on monetary support despite the lack of local faith.

Missionary work became heavily polarised: at one level, the foreign communities supported missionary work as ‘a good thing’ and ‘something to offset the Heathen Chinee’; largely though, they disliked missionaries, who embarrassed them in front of the Shanghainese. Much effort was spent to speed them safely on their way out to the far reaches of Western China.

Many travellers throughout China would not have survived without the aid of missionaries along their routes; very few of them ever praise these dedicated souls for their spiritual works.

The White Russian Invasion

With the completion of the Russian Revolution, the Tsarist forces fled Russia and escaped overland to China. This was a gruelling voyage across Mongolia and the Central Asian deserts and while many died, many also survived. Some of the ‘White Russians’ as they were known, established bases in the Tsaidam or the oases of the Takla Makan and planned to build Mongol- or Turki-backed armies with which to reconquer their homeland; others bowed to the inevitable and fled to Shanghai.

The main problem for the Russians was their stateless condition: they were disowned by the USSR and they were largely unwanted by the Chinese. In Shanghai, they fell between the cracks of the administration and could only be prosecuted by Chinese law. They weren’t alone however: refugee Jews from Russia also fell into this category, as did the Germans and the Japanese.

Many White Russians were not interested in a long-term residency: most Russians left Shanghai as soon as they could arrange transport on a ship, either to Europe, America or Australia. Most pawned what few possessions they had carried with them from Russia or used gold roubles in the exchange. For others though, it wasn’t so easy.

Many of the White Russian refugees were Cossacks or soldiers, who had no skills other than their military prowess and further, had had no time to get their wealth together before fleeing the motherland. Consequently they arrived in Shanghai with little more than the clothes on their backs. Many entered into the ranks of the local gangsters, who had a ready vacancy for battle-hardened men of tall stature; others signed on as labourers and ended up little better than the coolies alongside of which they slaved. Many of these former patriots drowned their meagre earnings in vodka or the cheaper local hooch and ended up living on the streets.

The tall, blonde Russian women were similarly beset. Without a means of earning their fare from Shanghai, many became taxi-dancers and afterwards prostitutes, usually of the meanest variety, taking a backseat to the highly organised sing-song girls. Many Chinese customers were intrigued and sought the services of these women; however the foreign communities were appalled.

The White Man Loses Face

This had a number of major ramifications: firstly, all levels of Chinese society became acutely aware that within the communities of the white man, there were ranks of acceptability, just as in their own society; further, without money or a means to earn it, the white devils were no better off than themselves. In fact the Chinese, more than as a result of any conflict or war in the past, gained parity with the foreigners. Chinese merchants and madams purchased White Russian services and treated their employees abominably, just because they could.

The Foreign Communities rallied: for years, moneys had been set aside to buy passage for white men who had ‘gone native’, to send them home with a minimum of fuss; this money was now used to ferry as many of the Russians as possible out of the city. For those left – and there were still many – positions were found for them in the police forces and, in the case of the women, hospitals. For the Russians in the French Concession, this placed them squarely in Chinese hands and exposed them to the high levels of corruption stemming from the opium trade; for women, most went back to work as prostitutes because the pay was better.

The damage was done: in the Jazz Age, all Shanghai citizens would be on equal footing.

Season of the Warlords!

 

Part Two: 1911 to 1949

With the fall of the Ching Dynasty, China emerged as a new Republic, ready to take its place on the world stage as a modern nation. With the Last Emperor consigned to house arrest in the Forbidden City, the Republicans began to unify the country; but trouble was looming: Sun Yat-sen was surprisingly ousted from the presidency, replaced by the scheming opportunist Yuan Shi-kai; the inheritors of Sun’s ideological bequest, the Kuomintang (KMT) and the Communist Party of China (CPC) were left to battle it out for supremacy.

Meanwhile, in Shanghai, the party continued. Gorged with every type of excess, the Shanghailanders and the Shanghainese embraced the new Western freedoms of the Jazz Age and made it truly their own. The influx of White Russian and Russian Jewish refugees created an eclectic mix within the city and, if the White Man lost ‘face’ from the sight of his Russian counterparts begging in the streets, the Chinese populace took this as a sign that they themselves were no better or worse than the ‘foreign devils’ who had energised this mud-flat shanty-town and turned it into a goldmine.

In the countryside around Shanghai, warlords battled furiously, realising that to own Shanghai was to have access to unlimited wealth and other resources. As their battles raged and armies washed over the city like waves over rocks, the people of Shanghai barely acknowledged it, lost to their decadence and their rarefied way of life. ‘Communism’ was the new bugbear and whispers of the Red Army’s power were alternately laughed out of court, or taken seriously as the winds of change blew.

From ‘Blood Alley’ to the Bund; from Hongkew to the Western ‘Badlands’, it was ‘plus ça change, plus ça meme chose’ and ‘every man for himself’. The streets rang with gunfire and jazz tunes, screams and the popping of champagne corks; red lanterns glowed outside opium dens and brothels and neon lights blazed above legendary nightspots where anything and anyone could be had for the right price. Looming in the distance was a bigger war than the Great One, but the people of Shanghai lived in an everlasting ‘now’ and cared not for what the morrow might bring...

 

History: From Chinese Revolution to Chinese Civil War (1911 to 1949)

“Nothing more intensely living can be imagined”

-Aldous Huxley on Shanghai

The Republic of China (ROC) and the Northern Expedition

 

Following the lead of Sun Yat-sen’s charge, the southern rebels against the Imperial House rose up and came together under the old battle cry “Eject the Ching; restore the Ming”. It was by no means a bloodless or easy coup: Sun tried twice to kick-start the Revolution in southern Canton and was both times thwarted by bad planning and errors of timing. When the revolt started, it began by accident in a northern stronghold while Sun was in London, avoiding Imperialist thugs and trying to win English sympathy to his cause. By the time he got back to China, Yuan Shi-kai had switched loyalties and been named president of the Republic of China (ROC) while the infant Emperor was locked away in the Purple Forbidden City.

For awhile, Sun pursued minor administrative duties in his new Republic, a period in which many people thought that he had lost his sanity, along with his purpose. After eloping with Soong Ching-ling however, he seemed to regain his focus and returned to right the wrongs caused by Yuan Shi-kai, who had surrounded himself with warlords and seemed bent on naming himself the new Emperor of another dynasty. Calling on his colleagues from the ‘Three Heavenly Harmonies’ triad Sun established the Whampoa Military Academy in Canton and began training troops once more, this time with the assistance of the Bolsheviks and their agent Michael Borodin. He was fated not to see the results of these endeavours however, as he died before they could come to fruition.

An ugly period ensued, a power struggle between several parties vying to take control of the Kuomintang (KMT). In the end, after the interference of Du Yue-sheng and his Green Gang, an hysterical spitfire called Chiang Kai-shek was named leader of the KMT and began staffing the Academy with Green Gang goons. Chiang, a womaniser given to carousing and bouts of over-the-top violence, took an instant dislike to Borodin and his shadowy masters in Moscow and began to work around them. This came to a head in Shanghai where, on the pretext of organising a General Strike to voice complaints against foreign interests, Chiang turned his KMT troops against the Communist factions and purged them in a bloody coup. After this ‘Black Saturday’, the KMT and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) were plunged into irrevocable war.

 

The Chinese Civil War (1927 – 1949)

Chiang’s main problem in seizing control of the ROC was in trying to hold the whole thing together. As always in China the hot-headed south was tearing away from the more level-headed north, but Yuan Shi-kai had left a land shattered into myriad pieces, each claimed by a warlord of no small capability whom Chiang needed in his attempt to oust the Communists. The Communists had withdrawn to the southern mountainous region of Kiangsi there to lick their wounds and see what happened next; this gave Chiang time to sort out the north which he did in his usual tempestuous manner.

Consolidating the warlords – of whom Du Yue-sheng was technically one – took no little imagination or money. Some of the warlords were Christians - most notably Feng Yu-hsiang who mass-baptised his troops with a firehose - while others were of Buddhist sympathies, or even Manchu loyalties. The KMT troops took to looting the landscape wherever they seized power in order to pay for themselves and for their boss’s extortion fees. Trying to wrangle this disparate powder keg was like trying to nail jelly to a wall and invariably Chiang’s limited powers of control were tested.

Corruption followed corruption and the whole event was doomed to failure. Inevitably, too much inequity was placed before the eyes of the peasant Chinese and their sympathies turned more and more to the Communist cause. At one point (the Sian Incident) Chiang was kidnapped by his own men who were alarmed by his inability to act against the powers besetting them. By 1949, Chiang’s resources were stretched too far and he fled the country, reaching Taiwan where he established a Government in Exile which he ruled until his death in 1975. His terrorising and greed had brought Sun Yat-sen’s vision to nothing.

The Second Sino-Japanese War (1937 – 1945)

 

After the First Sino-Japanese War and the Boxer Rebellion, the Japanese claimed compensation from the Chinese and outlined a list of 21 Demands before the Tsungli Yamen which were all considered outrageous by the powers of the day. Surprisingly, Yuan Shi-kai acceded to all of them bar the most humiliating: these included the ceding of Manchuria to Japan, which they immediately renamed ‘Manchukuo’. From this launch pad they embarked on a war with Russia which they won with little difficulty, proving themselves to be amongst - if not the most - effective fighting forces in the world at that time.

After this victory they inevitably looked south to the fractious mess that was China and began mobilising to take advantage. They captured the province of Jehol without a shot and then began to nibble further at the map boundaries, daring the Chinese to respond. Incredibly, Chiang, still blinkered by his obsession about the Communists, allowed the Japanese to take more and more territory, until finally they surrounded Peking and claimed all of the far north of China.

The first shots rang out in Shanghai as the National Republican Army (NRA) fired artillery shells over the International Settlement at Japanese warships anchored at the Bund. These largely missed their targets and devastated the waterfront on both sides of the Whangpu. In response, the Japanese invaded the city, bombing the district of Chapei into a wasteland and locking down the city under their control. From this beachhead, the Japanese Imperial Army drove the Chinese Nationalists back to their capital in Nanking and then routed them even from this stronghold. The NRA was forced to retreat further to Chungking from where they sat out the rest of World War Two.

The Second World War

 

Before 1941, the war in Shanghai was a murky and dubious affair. While the city was in Japanese hands, all foreign nationals were kept at arm’s length, as the Imperial Army dealt with the Chinese forces. Formal alliances with Germany gave that country greater access than they had enjoyed previously (not having had much extraterritoriality status in Shanghai) and they proceeded to enact a ‘shadow war’ against the other countries with whom they were openly fighting in the European theatre. Shanghai became a place of cloak and dagger violence and a hotbed of whispers.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbour however, everything shifted again: the Japanese and the Germans were at war with everyone...and the Japanese weren’t too sure about the Germans, either. Foreigners were herded into camps and ghettoes throughout the city and the secret war increased in intensity. In Chungking, the Nationalist government felt compelled to approach the Allied forces as comrades-in-arms and began an uneasy dialogue. Once again though, Chiang played things close to his chest, secretly bent on duplicating the accomplishments of the Nazi Regime and establishing himself as a fascist dictator. The war went on but not well, as all sides played a hidden hand: either a grab for power or a desperate attempt to maintain existing economic assets and future profits.

The Communist Takeover

 

After the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the cessation of hostilities with Japan, Chiang attempted to resume his purge of Communism from China. However, the fight with the Chinese had taken its toll: the Communists had gathered their strength and now turned it full-force against the KMT. Beaten and enervated, the KMT fled the mainland and dispersed into exile - with all of the cash and assets they could lay their hands on - leaving the Communists to rebuild the country anew...

The Blend

 

This weekend I took an excursion into the hinterlands of the Unknown, to a place so far towards the edge of the Map that it barely registers on the everyday consciousness. This was not a fit of madness or the exploration of a geographical curiosity; it was, in fact, a quest for coffee. Friends had contacted me to say that they had discovered a “Steampunk cafe” in Toongabbie. My response to the idea of a cafe with neo-Victoriana trimmings was “cool!”; the notion of such a confection located in Toongabbie was met with a “what the...?”. So, an adventure was planned.

Those of you who know Sydney, know that there’s a definite divide between the East and the West. The Western Suburbs are generally tagged with the mark of the low-brow, the Land of the Bogans. This is a gross generalisation, and somewhat unfair given the cost of living that constantly drives people out of the East but, as they say, there’s no smoke without fire, and the environs of Parramatta have rarely been known as a cultural hub. The further suburbs of Sydney cannot be said to be beautiful, despite the (sometimes questionable) efforts of local councils, and Toongabbie is not a pretty place. It is industrial, flat and slowly filling up with the overblown pre-fab mansions that are the hallmark of residents who are overly concerned with conspicuous consumption and not at all with taste.

 

We had a little trouble finding The Blend, after arriving at our co-ordinates via a Kiwi-toned GPS guide, and realised that it was due to the fact that the front of the cafe is flat brown: the awning overhead has a proud letter ‘B’ displayed, however, since it is the same colour as the entire facade it doesn’t really leap out and grab your attention. As it was, we literally stumbled onto the joint almost by accident, whilst trying to correlate the info provided by Google Maps with our own sensory input.

 

Of course, prior to embarking on our journey, we had taken the precaution of researching our quarry. The Facebook page and website associated with The Blend showed a fair degree of sophistication and warmth; we were speedily assured that our destination would be pleasant and accommodating, as indicated by the lavish photography. However, ‘teh Interwebz’ can be a little deceptive, as we all know, and we were about to have another lesson in this regard:

The place is the size of a postage stamp. I kid you not. The photos I’ve included here are those from their Facebook page and they give the impression that the cafe is much bigger than it actually is. These shots are obviously from early days: there is a whole lot more clutter now, and fewer actual seats. It’s amazing what some creative photography can do.

 

We arrived at about 11.00 in the morning and the joint was jumping. Outside were almost a dozen filled seats under umbrellas, allowing diners a sumptuous view of the urban banality that is Portico Parade, Toongabbie; inside was a single booth (occupied) and two tables (occupied) as well as a bar along the wall running towards the service area which, if occupied, would have created a fire hazard. Standing there, trying to work out if we were, after all, in the right place, we pretty much accounted for the balance of the available space within. Two girls at one of the tables decided that, having finished their brunch, they were simply restricting commerce, and so obligingly exited: we didn’t have to wait too long for a seat on this occasion, but I’m sure it must often get tricky.

I call it a “table”; it was actually two small side tables bracketed by an old train carriage seat against the wall, with a renovated loveseat opposite. The arrangement made up in charm what it lacked in utility, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. My reservations would have been greater if I had chosen to eat something: this wasn’t a situation that would have worked if cutlery and plates had been thrown into the mix, but negotiating a cup of coffee was no problem. Scanning the place, it seemed that the other table was the only one which would have comfortably accommodated dining, and the grotesquely obese customer seated there certainly seemed to be having no trouble getting outside his early lunch.

The decor strives to be as Steampunk as possible and largely succeeds in this regard. Greg Bridges, the owner/operator, is widely known as an illustrator and did the concept art for the third Narnia movie, “The Voyage of the Dawn Treader”. His oil canvases adorn the walls in heavy gold frames and they are truly amazing and intricate. The rest of the place feels very sepia-toned (probably due to the glass-panelled door hanging from the ceiling to hide the ugly neon light fixture) and there’s a definite neo-Victorian élan at work. It does feel a little low-key however, as if they’re trying to hint at Steampunk without actually coming out and saying it. While we soaked up the atmos., Greg came over for a chat and we encouraged him in his decorative ambitions; responding to our enthusiasm, he broke out his prescription-lensed goggles for us to see, thus proving his Steampunk credentials.

Ultimately though, as Greg says on his business card, it’s all about the coffee. I’d had a reasonable cup of joe earlier in the day that had barely touched the sides; I was seriously looking forward to what The Blend had to offer.

 

There were two blends available: the house bean is a concoction entitled “Dark Angel”; it comes in a black bag with an acid-green label. I had one cup of this and it almost blew the top of my head off. It’s rich and dark and, as the label says, “high powered”. I’m no coffee slouch, but it usually takes a few more cups than that to make me feel that way. This coffee stands up in the porcelain and says “I’m a real coffee! You better be sitting down!”; it also says, “I’m coming home with you!”, and that’s exactly what happened.

 

The other blend on offer is the “Bright Angel”, a fusion no less flavoursome but with far less caffeine. It’s warm and rich and perfect for those out there who like to adulterate their addiction with milk.

The space limitations really affect the service of food: signs attest to the fact that The Blend does most of its trade in the form of take-away orders for lunch and breakfast. My co-explorers tasted the cakes on offer and deemed them excellent – they certainly looked appetizing, as did the feast that the man-mountain in the corner was wolfing down. Greg did mention that there was a possibility of expanding and this will serve to improve the venue immensely.

If – for any bizarre reason – you find yourself in this backwater part of Nowhere, check out The Blend; it’s a little caffeine oasis in the midst of a whole bunch of nothing, and with a snazzy style. If coffee is where your world starts and ends, this is a fun little excursion to make and the Angels are well worth the effort. I’m glad I went, but I think I’ll be waiting for the expansion to happen before I head back.

The Blend

17 Portico Parade, Toongabbie NSW

0451 994 265

By the way...

I mentioned a little while ago that I attended the Alexander exhibition at the Australian Museum, with mixed results. Due to unbridled kiddage and lacklustre parenting, I fled the scene and was resolved to reviewing the artefacts vicariously, by means of the catalogue purchased at the Shop near the Exit. I've been slowly poring over that document and I've made a discovery. Does anyone else out there see something suspicious about this?

With the show now concluded and all of the exhibits safely restored to their archive in St. Petersburg, it would now seem impossible to verify the accuracy of this image. If it's a bona fide depiction though, it would indicate that HPL was definitely on to something!

Cthulhu f'taghn!

The Dowager Empress

 

“As to Su Shun, his treasonable guilt far exceeds that of his accomplices and he fully deserves the punishment of dismemberment and the slicing process. But we cannot make up our mind to impose this extreme penalty and therefore, in our clemency, we sentence him to immediate decapitation.”

-Tzü Hsi, from an Imperial Edict, 1860

The Dowager Empress was a strange mixture of cruelty, opportunism and naïveté. She arrived at the Purple Forbidden City as part of the Emperor’s harem and, from there, fought her way to become the most powerful person in China. There are a multitude of small mysteries about her, none of them ground-shaking but enough to make her an interesting character for Keepers in a Call of Cthulhu campaign.

Firstly, no-one knows her real name. She arrived at the Emperor’s court with the name ‘Yehonala’ (or ‘Yehenara’ – sources vary) but there is evidence to suggest that she adopted this name to celebrate the fact that she was chosen as a consort of the Emperor – a new name was a common way of celebrating this promotion among the chosen women. Before being chosen for this role, she was intended to be married to the general Jong lu, with whom she had had a whirlwind romance; she could have turned down the option of becoming the Emperor’s concubine but her ambition got the better of her and she went to the harem.

The second mystery is that of her son: was he really the child of the Emperor? Yehonala’s subsequent actions show that she was quick to sum up the political landscape and take swift action where necessary; the only way to gain promotion within the harem was to produce a son (girls were irrelevant) and she accomplished this in short order. Before his death, the Emperor selected a group of eight Regents to act on his son’s behalf until he reached the age of maturity; Tzü Hsi invaded the Emperor’s bed chamber and demanded that she and the Emperor’s first wife (Tzü Hsi’s cousin Tzü-an) be added to this ‘Gang of Eight’ as co-Regents. The Emperor agreed. After the Emperor’s death, Tzü Hsi conspired with her brother-in-law, Prince Gong and her old lover Jong lu to have the ‘Gang of Eight’ imprisoned and executed for treason. Thereafter, while acting as co-Regent, she encouraged her child in a life of excess that swiftly brought about his demise. By this time she had changed her name to ‘Tzü Hsi’ meaning ‘auspicious and motherly’; however, her actions showed her to be anything but: after convincing her son’s distressed wife Alute to commit suicide, she then arranged for his favourite concubine – whom she’d just discovered was pregnant – to be poisoned.

Her next step required some delicate manoeuvring: with the help of Li Hung-chang she arranged for the previous Emperor’s nephew to take the throne (in despite of other more deserving candidates). The third mystery is: how she managed this, with the aid of one of the most clear-sighted and just political manipulators of the time? To be sure, Li certainly worked in the background to hinder the designs of the Manchus from this point on. The new Emperor was young enough that Tzü Hsi enjoyed many years of personal power. When he came to maturity however, he began to agitate for reform in the country, advocating a plan called the ‘100 days of Innovation’ wherein schools and railroads would be built and a host of other types of infrastructure and bureaucratic re-organisation would take place. Horrified at this proposal, Tzü Hsi enacted a palace coup and had the Emperor imprisoned on an island in the lakes of one of her gardens.

Tzü Hsi lived a life rarefied within the walls of the Forbidden City; she developed strange habits and adopted ideas peculiar to herself alone. She enjoyed boat picnics, grand banquets of up to 100 courses upon floating palaces in the lakes of the sumptuous gardens, accompanied by the consorts of the previous Emperor; she cultivated an interest in pug dogs; she developed a notion that she and Queen Victoria were on a parallel course through history and venerated images of the English queen. At one point she used the funds allotted to buying armaments for the Imperial Army to re-build a huge, boat-shaped pavilion in a lake of the gardens in the Summer Palace in which to have lunch. She hardly ever slept, claiming to not wish to miss a moment of her time in power: her bed chamber was filled with loudly ticking clocks.

During a short period of illness, Tzü Hsi was forced to step aside and let her co-Regent, Tzü-an, take the reins of power. It transpired that Tzü-an rather enjoyed this taste of authority and came to Tzü Hsi afterwards with a bombshell: before her husband had died, he had given Tzü-an a document calling for Tzü Hsi’s imprisonment and execution if she ever began to agitate for power. It seems that the Xianfeng Emperor had taken an exact measure of his favourite concubine’s nature. Tzü-an had kept this document secret for twenty years but now she felt was the time to bring it into play. Her bid for power came too late though and she completely miscalculated Tzü Hsi’s response to such a threat: in short order she was poisoned and Tzü Hsi became the absolute ruler, in all but name, of China.

Tzü Hsi’s vanity was part of her undoing; she considered herself as one of the most intelligent people in the world, simply due to the fact that she held the lives and deaths of other individuals in her hands. She enjoyed playing games with the sentencing of criminals, as the above quote shows. Her sadistic streak showed itself strongly in her treatment of her servants: she often instructed maids to slap each others’ faces repeatedly, as she watched, for her amusement. She grew her fingernails into long talons and was not shy about using them to slash and tear her subordinates. Those minions who sorely tested her temper were often said to be thrown down the nearest well by her ever-faithful eunuchs

 

 

“I have often thought that I am the most clever woman that ever lived and others cannot compare with me…I have 400 million people dependent upon my judgement...”

-Tzü Hsi

Her other weakness was superstition: as she grew older she began to lend greater credence to the words of magicians and less to her political advisors. At one point, Tzü Hsi was privileged to witness a Boxer volunteer stand in front of a cannon as it was fired; he walked away from the report with no damage, apart from the blackening of gunpowder and the fumes of the discharge. While it is highly likely that no projectile was included in the loading of the gun for this particular demonstration, nevertheless it impressed the Dowager Empress mightily and, from this point on, she lent her full support to the magic of the Boxer cause.

Tzü Hsi played the Boxers’ cats-paw to the hilt: she used her considerable charisma to subvert Sir Robert Hart and convince him that the Manchus had no desire to break their accord with the Foreign Legations; at the same time she courted Tung Fu-hsiang as the instrument who would ignite the Rebellion at her command. It was she who officially declared war on the Foreign Legations in the mad belief that the t’ai p’ing t’ao of the Boxers would ensure victory. The previous day, she had had all of the wives of the American Legation over for tea and smilingly told them that continued accord with the foreign powers was her sincerest desire. It is noteworthy that, but for the intervention of Jong lu who denied the Imperial Troops and their Boxer confederates access to stockpiles of weaponry that would have allowed them to overrun the legation Defenders, the Boxers would have won the day in Peking.

With the breaking of the Siege of Peking, the Imperial household was forced to flee the Purple Forbidden City and seek refuge in the Western Provinces. Here is another mystery: commonly, it is said that Tzü Hsi threw the Emperor’s favourite concubine down a well rather than take her with them in their escape. Certainly this ‘Pearl Concubine’ disappeared but some commentators say that this tale of her demise is a fiction developed to malign the Dowager Empress and that no human remains have been found in the wells of the Purple Forbidden City to support the story; no-one however, doubts that it was an act of which she was entirely capable.

After a period of exile in which Li Hung-chang campaigned feverishly on the Imperial family’s behalf, the Manchus returned to the Purple Forbidden City. Peking was still in the hands of foreign troops and the full horror of what had been done within its walls was slowly being revealed on almost a daily basis. Nonetheless, when the Imperial family returned, Tzü Hsi took the time to stand on the walls of the city and salute the forces who had wrested it from her; such was her force of personality, they all saluted her back. Nameless and unknown, she had entered Peking; infamous and nevertheless respected, she reclaimed what was hers.

“Never again allow a woman to hold the supreme power in the State. It is against the house-laws of our dynasty and should be forbidden.”

-Tzü Hsi

The quote above is said to be the last statement that Tzü Hsi uttered before her death from complications due to liver illness in 1908. Many commentators claim that the exile which she endured after the Siege opened her eyes to the plight of the peasants and other folk who starved and went without to ensure her life and that of the rest of the Manchu court, with daily luxuries. Other writers feel that the true intention of the order was that Tzü Hsi wanted no-one to surpass her efforts if she could possibly arrange it, even on her death bed.

*****

Any or all of the Dowager Empress’ crimes listed above may be complete fiction, designed to malign her; certainly no bodies have been found in the wells of the Forbidden City. Still, most commentators agree that she was capable of any one, or more, of them (or that the image she projected instilled this impression). Through the distorting lens of the Cthulhu Mythos, The Dowager Empress can be viewed in many ways: is she a dupe of Mythos or other forces, provided with enough mind-controlling spells to engineer her way through the political framework of the time (ultimately to fail)? Or is she Nyarlathotep itself, seeking to damn the Thousand-Year Empire through this mask as a personal joke? Individual Keepers will weigh the tragic humanity of Tzü Hsi against the ascribed horrors of her record and make their own decision.

 

Factions

At various times throughout the Foreign Legations’ time in China there have been groups ranged against them, in opposition to their presence or activities. As well, there are other secret societies whose purpose is more obscure and deeply hidden, whose members lie waiting for certain mystical events to transpire before leaping into action. The more familiar of these are listed here; Keepers are advised that this list is not exhaustive and these examples can be used as templates to create other groups of a similar nature.

*****

Boxers

 

The I Ho Ch’uan or ‘Fists of Righteous Harmony’ (‘Boxers’ to the Foreign Legations) were, like the Taipings before them, insistent on dispensing with any element that marked them as having dealings with the Invaders. To this end they eschewed guns of any kind and reverted to the weaponry and armaments of the Ming Dynasty era. Boxers were however, in the later stages of the conflict, openly supported by the Imperial troops and this firepower and artillery support made them much more effective than they could ever have hoped to have been in the face of Western technological superiority.

Boxers were identified mainly by their adoption of red turbans and often some other red coloured piece of apparel. The mystic powers attributed to them, and often wholly subscribed to by individual troopers, gave them a swaggering arrogance and they often took ridiculous risks in the face of the enemy. The formal uniform of the Boxer was a hip-length tunic of white - sometimes bearing a Chinese character in red - white silk trousers and the red turban or head scarf. Individuals sometimes adapted this basic ensemble with sashes and red over-tunics to heighten their fearsome appearance.

Many Boxers were appointed as ten-nai or ‘tiger men’ and were despatched to cause fear among the opposition. These figures with their outlandish garb and daredevil behaviour are natural proponents of the t’ai p’ing t’ao of Boxer lore. These warriors were skilled in the use of the grappling hook, used to drag down horse troops and to unseat cannon from their rests. The presence of these wild men, traditionally a part of the Imperial forces, was a clue for the Foreigners as to the tacit support from the Imperials that the Boxers were receiving.

Like the Taipings, whom they strongly resembled, the Boxers used ‘charm banners’  and these are a good focus for the magical powers of these warriors, should the Keeper deem such things appropriate. Unlike the Taipings, they never resorted to the black banner charge, as the Boxers were intended to inspire this kind of terror from their mere presence.

In terms of weaponry, the Boxers never used foreign weapons, but they did revive many ancient weapons of the previous dynasties. They preferred to use spears,

swords and halberds but also used bows, including the crossbow and various gun-powder devices such as hand grenades and primitive mortars and cannon. These were often made of bamboo and discharged metallic fragments or barrages of flaming arrows. A particular strategy for breaking barricades was to tie spears along the flanks of a bullock then tie a bale of flaming hay beneath its tail before releasing it in the direction of the defenders.

Boxer leaders were not above reviving other less than savoury Chinese warfare practises; one of these was ‘chopstick gagging’. This involved putting a chopstick lengthwise in the warrior’s mouth and tying it in place by means of a cord wound around the back of the head. This gag was meant to stop the soldiers talking and revealing sensitive mission details to spies or enemy troops.

The recklessness and wildness in battle often observed by the foreign troops had much to do with strong applications of opium and alcohol before entering a fight. Many Boxers thought they were being given potions that would render them invulnerable and this helped bolster their courage, along with deadening the effects of the wounds that they received. To the Western forces, the seeming imperviousness to harm or fear gave the Boxers a tangible psychological edge.

Average Boxer

STR: 11

CON: 11

SIZ: 13

INT: 11

POW: 11

DEX: 11

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Sword 30%; Spear 20%; Halberd 20%; Bow 30%

Armour: None

Spells: Any or all of the t’ai p’ing t’ao, if appropriate

Skills: As the Keeper requires

SAN Loss: 0/1 (The ferocity displayed during some attacks can be quite unnerving)

*****

Eunuchs

 

One of the more mysterious factions within the Celestial society was, on balance, probably the least mysterious organisation of all. The Eunuchs, the Imperial guardians of the Purple Forbidden City, were consolidated by a sense of fellowship which their origins provided, but they were a fractious and tricky crowd whose alliances were difficult to predict.

To begin, one needs to examine the nature of becoming a Eunuch. The process begins with the selection of an appropriate pre-pubescent boy-child of the age of six or older; this in itself was fraught with problems regarding the connexions of the selection committee, involving bribes and coercion of many types: being a Eunuch was a position of great honour and bestowed much favour upon the family whose child was chosen. Once the selection was made, the child underwent a specialised form of surgery: their testicles would be removed and preserved; once again, the Confucian prohibition on leaving an incomplete corpse prevailed, and the Eunuch would take their testicles through life with them, in a special box, to ensure that they would be buried ‘whole’.

The physical effects of becoming a Eunuch are primarily inhibitive of physical development and the results were thought aesthetically pleasing in the Imperial courts. To begin with, Eunuchs were tall, as befitted a bodyguard of the Emperor: normally, testosterone floods the child’s system and retards growth by the age of 25, channelling this energy into sexual development; in the case of Eunuchs, this process does not occur and their upward growth continues into their 30s, with the result that Eunuchs were often topping six feet (of course, nutrition also plays a great part in this process). Eunuchs were also lacking in body hair and their voices were generally high and occasionally shrill. This meant that the Eunuchs were of no particular threat within the harem and were generally intimidating in the face of outsiders.

The Eunuchs were in charge of the daily running of the Imperial household; they oversaw the Emperor’s education, his food and daily health routine. Invariably, the Eunuchs established a complex chain of corruption with the suppliers and servants of the Imperial household, salting away millions of taels of silver and commanding authority across the nation. In times when the Imperial Dynasties began to topple, the Eunuchs were often the first to feel the effects of an Imperial purge...

Average Eunuch

STR: 11

CON: 11

SIZ: 14

INT: 11

POW: 11

DEX: 11

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Sword 15%; Dagger 30%; Garrotte 30%; Bow 10%

Armour: None

Spells: None, unless required by the Keeper

Skills: Bargain 50%; Accountancy 45%; Persuade 25%; Gamble 50%; Chemistry (Brew Poisons) 30%

SAN Loss: 0/0

*****

Imperial Troops

 

The Imperial forces consisted, in the main, of the Baiyang Army, a standing force comprised of troops from the banner houses of the Manchu Imperial households. Their role was to support the Dragon Throne and rally to the Emperor in his time of need. This army was administered by a complex hierarchy of mandarins and other bureaucrats and was often plagued in its effectiveness by the corruption of these and other regional governors.

For the most part, the Imperials wore a tunic jacket - usually blue edged in red, or red edged in white – over their everyday clothes. Occasionally, a division would be supplied with trousers and a shirt but this was fairly rare. The tunic jacket had a large (25cm, or 10 inch) white circle on the front onto which was written the details of the wearer’s unit: many jokes were made by Foreigners as to whether this feature was intended to be some kind of target. Troopers were supposed to provide their own shoes but were supplied with weapons, chopsticks, an umbrella, a pipe and a fan. They were also issued with a ‘dog-tag’, a piece of bamboo inscribed with the owner’s name, age, region of origin and date of enlistment, which hung from the belt.

 

The headgear of the Imperial troops was the traditional Manchu cap, a low conical silk hat with a broad turned-up brim. The brim was invariably black while the crown was red and topped with a bead. The sumptuous quality of this bead, plus the attachment of any tails or feathers, indicated the achievements or rank of the individual. Some provinces eschewed the Manchu cap for regional variants, such as the straw coolie hat or the turban; in all of these latter cases, the colours of these items, representing individual units, were kept uniform.

As far as weapons were concerned, the Imperials were not too shy to adopt the Westerner’s technology: Imperial troops were issued with muskets and rifles and had access to cannon. To these armaments they added rockets (gunpowder-fired lances or arrows), repeating crossbows and stinkpots – clay jars filled with substances that gave off reeking, asphyxiating smoke.

One exception to the staid and otherwise prosaic Imperial forces was the presence of specialised shock troopers within their ranks known as ‘ten-nai’, or ‘tiger men’. These individuals had the daunting task of cavorting in front of the troop lines and attempting to scare off the opposition. To this end they were dressed in yellow-and-black striped outfits with eared hoods that resembled tiger heads. They did not employ guns of any kind as these would be ruined by their antics; however, they did utilise fireworks in an attempt to frighten horses and superstitious soldiers. Their main weapon was a grapnel, with which they sought to drag opposing soldiers from horseback or to pull enemy cannon off their trolleys. As a limited means of defense, they carried massive wickerwork shields painted with grotesque tiger faces, used largely to draw fire away from the regular troops.

In many places, villages and some larger habitations fielded their own civil defense forces, usually at the behest of a local headman or regional governor. These troops - called t’uan lien - strongly resembled the Imperial forces after which they were patterned but were guided mainly by the whims of the local government. They were reported to often attack Imperial and Taiping forces alike in defence of their home village.

Average Imperial Soldier

STR: 11

CON: 11

SIZ: 13

INT: 11

POW: 11

DEX: 11

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Sword 30%; Spear 25%; Halberd 20%; Bow 30%; Flintlock Rifle 25%

Armour: None

Spells: None

Skills: First Aid 15%; Navigation 30%; Wilderness Survival 45%

SAN Loss: 0/0

Average ‘Tiger Man’

STR: 12

CON: 11

SIZ: 13

INT: 11

POW: 11

DEX: 13

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Sword 30%; Spear 30%; Halberd 20%; Bow 30%; Grapnel 40%

Armour: Shield: 4 points

Spells: None

Skills: Demolition 30%; Chemistry 30%; Throw 45%; First Aid 25%; Wilderness Survival 45%

SAN Loss: 0/1 (The ferocity displayed during some attacks can be quite unnerving)

 

*****

The Iron Foals

In centuries passed, the King Kou Chien caused to be built a grand temple to his god K’un Wu. This ancient, warlike deity rewarded this act of worship with a gift of eight copper swords each of which commanded a strange, unearthly power. With this power, Kou Chien raised an army and set about conquering first China and then the rest of the known world. After a mighty struggle lasting many years, Kou Chien was overthrown and his dark temple razed to the ground. In the aftermath, a group of dedicated warriors came together and swore that the threat posed by Kou Chien’s spirit was too great to ignore: they formed a secret society dedicated to watching over the lost temple and ensuring that no-one would ever allow K’un Wu’s spirit to be unleased ever again.

In the time of Kou Chien, his defeat was brought about by the efforts of a group of Mongol warriors who swore an oath to his destruction. They abandoned their families and homelands and left for the heart of China vowing not to return until he had been vanquished. After his death, once they realised that his spirit could potentially re-emerge to cast its blight once more, they chose to adhere to their vows and to maintain their vigilance. Thus, every member of this sect considers itself as a person displaced, one raised in exile. Conversely, they all have a surprising facility with the skills of horsemanship and are rigorously trained in the ways of archery and falconry, holdovers from their Mongol ancestry. To this day, they still use the written and spoken forms of the Mongol language as a means of covert communication.

A majority of the members of this secret sect are based in Chengdu where the Temple is hidden; however, other members of the society devote themselves to guarding other locations where Kou Chien was known to have lived – his palaces, his tomb, the battlefields of his victories. Other society members take a more academic line and watch for the emergence of omens which would herald the return of Kou chien or K’un Wu. Particularly, they wait for news that copies of a certain book – the Shih I Chi – have been located: this work discusses the history of Kou Chien and the mysterious temple in some detail and members of the sect especially target them and their owners for removal.

The Iron Foals have a particular horror of floods and of famines which they regard as signs of K’un Wu’s displeasure at the defeat of his champion. They have a prophecy that Kou Chien’s rebirth from the Karmic Wheel will be heralded by a massive earthquake and a season when the dead will rise from their graves. They also fear both solar and lunar eclipses as these indicate that some of the copper swords could have been discovered and utilised.

During the Yuan Dynasty, the sect was able to make many consolidations under the auspices of the Mongol Chinese rulers, including a waiving of the road tolls which some districts observe even today; during the overthrow of the Mongol dynasty, they suffered incredible hardships and were almost completely eradicated. Since then they have learned to lie low and keep their secrets close.

 

Average Iron Foal

STR: 12

CON: 13

SIZ: 12

INT: 11

POW: 11

DEX: 14

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Sword: 45%; Lance: 50%; Bow: 75%

Armour: 10 points of lamellar armour

Spells: None

Skills: Ride 95%; Art: Falconry 50%; Read/Write Mongol 60%; Speak Mongol 80%

SAN Loss: 0/0

*****

Nameless Guard

 

The Hsi Fan is a shadowy organisation sunk deep into the fabric of China. It has many layers and hidden cabals leading into Western China and ultimately to the Great Old One, Hastur. The lowest rank in this dark web is a group called the Order of the White Peacock and it is this organisation that directly implements the stratagems of the Great Old One. The arms, hands and feet of this cabal are the Nameless Guard.

Members of this sect are hand-picked by members of the Order and are usually selected on the basis of sought-after skills or potential benefit to the Order. There is also a preference for the selection of those afflicted with albinism or other pigment-based disorders, such as birthmarks or distinctive eye-colour. Recruited individuals are taken to the Order’s fastnesses in Western China and rigorously trained in the group’s ideals and methods.

Training of these individuals is undertaken in a remote lamasery and the instruction is entirely based upon the teachings of the Emerald Lama. Martial training is observed and each adept is taught the fundamentals of the Martial Arts along with various other combat skills such as infiltration and shock tactics. Life at the lamasery is particularly hard and designed to winnow out the weak and unfit.

In the latter phases of training, the trainees are groomed for particular positions within the wider Chinese community: the roles that are chosen are those that will give the Order the greatest influence in the nation’s affairs. Trainees become educators, police officers, customs officials – anything that can grant the Order a significant advantage. Once training has been finished the polished ‘Guard is ready to begin covertly spreading the word of the Emerald Lama.

The Nameless Guard has many strong links to the various Tcho-tcho communities throughout China and are able to command their assistance in times of need; these communities revere the Nameless Guards as favourites of Hastur and are usually willing (devotion to other deities aside) to lend whatever help they can; conversely, members of the cults devoted to the Bloated Woman avatar of Nyarlathotep take great pleasure in discovering these individuals and offering them as sacrifices to their obscene deity.

The Nameless Guards are truly nameless, having forsaken their own identities in the pursuit of serving their masters. None of them remember their early life before their conscription or even consider themselves to be individuals; at best, they acknowledge their adopted roles as masks, useful in the service of the ‘Nameless One’, believable as long as they serve their purpose but easily shed if another role takes a higher priority. It need hardly be pointed out that these individuals are all hopelessly insane; 1 in 5 of these individuals become Unspeakable Possessors if ultimately thwarted in their goals.

Average Nameless Guard

STR: 13

CON: 14

SIZ: 12

INT: 14

POW: 12

DEX: 13

Move: 8

HP: 11

Damage Bonus: +1D4

Weapons: Dagger 40%; Pistol 40%

Armour: None

Spells: Contact Deity: Hastur (in Its avatar as the Emerald Lama); Summon Deity: Hastur (in Its avatar as the Emerald Lama); Contact Tcho-tcho

Skills: Cthulhu Mythos 95%; Speak Chinese 60%; Martial Arts 40% Sneak 60%

SAN Loss: 0/0

*****

The Purple Yang School

 

“Associations of scholars for literary purposes seem to have been numerous...”

-E. T. C. Werner, Myths of China, 1922

The School of the Purple Yang is a covert society hidden among the academics of China. For thousands of years they have worked in the background primarily to thwart the machinations of Hastur through its works as the Emerald Lama.

The efforts of this society are focussed upon ridding the effects of the Emerald Lama’s presence from among the literati of China’s elite. To this end they scrutinise books and their publishing houses for instances of the Emerald Mandala (q.v.) or similar toxic enchantments as well as policing the Bureaucratic Examinations for evidence of the ‘Lama’s influence. At times, they have advocated and enacted wholesale destruction of books in order to prevent the circulation of knowledge which they have deemed dangerous: the last time this happened was in the Song Dynasty, although some attribute the destruction of the Hanlin Library during the Boxer Rebellion as evidence of their continued presence.

As a society of scholars, the School has access to a huge amount of arcane knowledge and an understanding of Mythos and other magicks can readily be assumed. However, the School considers itself a quasi-military strike force against the evil powers against which it is arrayed and thus has a significant martial component to its training. All members of the School are proficient in some form of martial art and many are practitioners of herbal and other medicines; many are capable of creating virulent poisons along with their antidotes. The weapons most often encountered being wielded by the School are those which are innocuous or easily concealed such as chopsticks, daggers, fans and staves.

The Purple Yang School is keenly aware of the presence of the Tcho-tcho peoples throughout China and much of their time is spent in neutralising their influence in the country. As such, the School is one of very few secret societies in China which does not conform to the rigid Triad structure that has developed over time. Rather, the Purple Yang adherents respect each other as equals in a secret fraternity, each sworn to defend their patch and inform their associates of developments. They communicate in highly abstruse codes and meet annually in hidden locations.

Average Purple Yang Scholar

STR: 10

CON: 10

SIZ: 9

INT: 16

POW: 14

DEX: 12

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Dagger 40%; Fan 40%; Staff 55%

Armour: None

Spells: Any, as desired by the Keeper

Skills: Occult 70%; Read/Write Chinese 85%; Speak Chinese 85%; Martial Arts 50%; Library Use 65%

SAN Loss: 0/0

*****

Taipings

 

The main identifier of the Taiping forces was their rejection of everything relating to the Ch’ing Empire and a re-adoption of Ming attitudes and dress. Taiping warriors usually abandoned the queue and wore their hair long and wild, sometimes wound in braids around their heads and with a dangling side tassel. Other troops chose to wear turbans, usually red, although female troops often wore yellow.

In terms of dress, the Taiping forces tended to be a motley crowd. Some troops preferred to dress in the captured silks of their enemies and wore a harlequin garb designed to inspire fear in their opponents; other forces were instructed to adopt a standard outfit: the choice depended on the ‘wang’ or leader of the troop in question. In all cases, the tunics worn by Taiping troops opened down the front rather than down the right-hand side in the Manchu style.

The standard Taiping soldier wore a red turban or head scarf, black silk trousers a close-fitting hip-length red tunic and a sash around the waist; in battle, they often went unshod with their trousers rolled up. In summer a straw coolie hat was often added. Taiping forces were usually armed with halberds, spears, swords and bows but regularly employed captured match- and flintlock rifles whenever they could source them.

The Taipings utilised a range of highly colourful banners to indicate their forces: these were generally a motley pattern although many of them were ‘charm banners’, covered in mystical symbols designed either to confer magical blessings or to instil fear in enemies: Keepers may wish to use these items as a source of t’ai p’ing t’ao effects in various engagements. The most feared banner of the Taipings was the black banner used in all-out charges: when charging under a black banner, the troops would be slain by their own commanders following behind if they deviated in their purpose; most Imperial troops would flee before a black banner charge.

The wangs (literally, ‘kings’) of the Taiping troops affected a much more elaborate style of dress. They wore full-length red robes of fine silk, under a yellow, patterned, waist-length tunic buttoning down the front. Over this they wore a sort of cowl, covering the head and shoulders and tying under the chin; this too, was usually red in colour. In formal gatherings the wangs wore a particularly ornate headdress or crown, called the ‘dragon hat’. This was, as described thus by R. J. Forrest in 1861, “made of pasteboard, gilt, with amber beads and pearls suspended, and a little bird on the top”. In accordance with the implied status that such a headpiece provides, the wangs always wore the most sumptuous fabrics, including the yellow silks normally reserved only for members of the Imperial households.

Average Taiping Warrior

STR: 11

CON: 11

SIZ: 13

INT: 11

POW: 11

DEX: 11

Move: 8

HP: 12

Damage Bonus: +0

Weapons: Sword 30%; Spear 25%; Halberd 20%; Bow 30%; Flintlock Rifle 25%

Armour: None

Spells: None; a few may know some of the t’ai p’ing t’ao

Skills: First Aid 15%; Navigation 30%; Wilderness Survival 45%

SAN Loss: 0/0