Sunday, 19 April 2015

Ironfest 2015...



Well, the annual culture-clash that is Ironfest has come and gone once more. This year, I went with friends and with more reasonable expectations than I did last year and, consequently, had a more enjoyable time. This time around, the event was held over two days rather than the two-and-a-half and three days of the previous years and I think that this shortened time frame meant that many attendees who would normally have shown up to spruik their wares were less willing to make an appearance. For instance, there were noticeably fewer Napoleonic tents on the main showground (not fewer Napoleonic recreators – plenty of people were present to get shot at in the melees – just fewer people willing and able to sleep out in a camp tent overnight).
Still, quality counts for something, and there was enough activity to celebrate Lithgow’s steel-industry heritage in a myriad quirky ways. The cosplay crowd were there with bells on (literally) and this year most of them had checked themselves in a mirror before leaving their homes. There were fewer wardrobe malfunctions in evidence (discounting the woman in the steel brassiere who simply could not keep the thing fastened, I suspect deliberately) and most of the costumes were of the type that were sturdy enough to withstand a weekend’s worth of parading. Best of all was the “clockwork fairy” woman whose wings opened and shut with the ratcheting of a large silver key.
The theme this year was “Gypsy Dreadnought” which, as I had suspected, was a bit of a sop to the Tarot-cards-and-belly-dance crowd. There was a fully-armed and armoured gypsy caravan parked at the front gate (probably doing double duty as a not-so-subtle reminder for the Sydney Goth-er-“Steampunk” retailers to keep their X-rated music down) and the air everywhere rang with the melodies of not only Abney Park (shudder!) but also Caravan Palace (yay!). (Apparently, the ‘Park have decided to tell the world that they “invented” Electro-Swing. It seems Captain Robert can’t tell the difference between “invented” and “appropriated”, but then, that’s pirates for you!)
The World War Two re-enactors showed up with some impressive examples of 20th Century wartime armour this year, including armoured half-tracks and tanks, and they put it all to good use during their mock-combat bouts. This year, the hallmark of the event was the constant cloud of gunpowder smoke that wafted over the event. I reflected that we were all pretty lucky to live in a country where, if loud explosions and gunfire suddenly happen, everyone in the crowd runs towards the noise to see what’s happening, instead of ducking and covering. Put that observation in your gun-law narratives, Americans.
The ironworkers were back and hammering fit to bust, making everything from giant sunflowers to tiny horseshoes. This year, there were many more steam hammers present and the place was merrily ringing from dawn ‘til dusk. You’ve gotta love an occupation which allows you to wear a top hat while you work!
Musically, the ‘Fest was back in form: the Lithgow Brass Band wasn’t in attendance, probably due to the fact that the annual Lithgow Fair had taken place a week or two previously, so marshalling performers for one event, rather than two would have been an easier prospect. To make up for them, there was a Scots pipe-and-drum marching band and the Medieval troubadour group Wayward with their hurdy-gurdies and crumhorns.
Much of the costumed craziness was diverted out of the general activity by some discreet LARPing that was going on in the background: a vast improvement over the open mic mistake of the previous year. Corralling the exhibitionists on the trail of LARP-quests was a vastly better idea than giving them a platform from which to warble while their body paint melted off under the spotlights!
The Guy Who Makes Frill-Necked Lizards Out Of Old Forks (you heard it here first, folks!) was back, but I paid him no mind. The Steampunk Modders were in the main hall with their woeful collections of welded-together lumps of crap advertised as “Time Machines” or “Galvanisers” (but which, ultimately, are only ugly doorstops); but, as well, I slid by and wasted no time with them. I have reached a stage where I know where to focus my energies with this event.
As the afternoon lengthened, groups of young men began to show up, probably coming straight from work to see what the fuss was about. Last year I noted the appearance of guys tricked out in makeshift capes and plastic swords, and this year was the same: one fellow artfully tore the box that his slab of Carlton Draught beer had come in and had fashioned from it a Roman Legionnaire’s costume. Points for enthusiasm and artfulness, if not authenticity.
I quickly lost track of how many copies I spotted of “Anduril” – Aragorn’s re-built sword from the Lord of the Rings franchise – made from both spring-steel and LARPing foam, and it dawned on me that there were lots of young people running about armed with sharpened lengths of metal. While existing laws about having to be over 16 years of age before buying blades were being observed, there didn’t seem to be any concern about fathers buying real, actual, sharp swords, and giving them to their kids. Seriously, one small person was lugging about a replica “Sting” that was almost as long as he was. It was either an accident waiting to happen or Evolution in action; I didn’t hang around to find out which.
Roving entertainment provided many amusing diversions and, since I was in the company of an adorable nine-year-old, our small group was targeted by many costumed performers out to engage the onlookers. The low-key but eminently talented Solid State Circus cut loose with several performances during the day specialising in death-defying acrobatics, hula-hoop pizzazz and the balancing of deadly objects on their faces, including a machete and a primed dingo trap. Don’t try this at home!
Medieval recreationists were present in force and again the SCAdians were pretty much outclassed by the local versions of the pastime which have flourished in the attempt to put the sour-taste of American franchise ownership behind them. In particular, the Europa group, which eschews bashing each other with sticks or iron bars in favour of cultivating the crafts and activities of the Norse tribes, was an illuminating gathering, displaying many fascinating activities from leatherwork, to archery, to hnefatafl. (That’s “Viking chess” to you and me.) Of course, the “Thwack! Clap!” of SCA biffo blotted the airwaves periodically, but it was easy to ignore, given the displays of actual swordspersonship on offer from the many metal weapons groups present. Not to mention the small children with very big knives!
Once again the overriding tone of the event was sheer enthusiasm. Let it not be said that Lithgow is a thriving community or economic powerhouse: it’s about as blue-collar as it comes and its glory days are well in the past. However, this event gives all the locals the opportunity to cut loose and just enjoy themselves for the weekend. Stallholders and tradespeople come from as far away as Tasmania to attend the festivities and there is a serious amount of craftpersonship and creativity on offer for all comers. It’s wacky and quirky, potentially catastrophic and just plain fun – I would recommend it to anyone.

Wednesday, 15 April 2015

The Porcelain Mask - Part IV


Return to Shanghai

Wherever the party chooses to congregate upon returning to Shanghai, they will be greeted by a strange band of figures: monks, of a seeming Buddhist persuasion, are gathered by the entrance of the party’s refuge and rise as they approach, as if waiting for their arrival (If the party has chosen to disband upon their return to the city, pick one of the characters’ residences to place these monks, probably the one that causes most inconvenience, for instance a hotel lobby).

Questioning these monks will reveal that they speak very little Chinese of any description and what they do have is in the form of the southern dialects (mainly Cantonese, Pinghua and Hakka, with a smattering of Burmese). They do, however, have some proficiency with French so any facility with this language that the party possesses will ease things along greatly.

There are five of these monks, four younger men with shaved heads dressed in dark red robes and an older man, similarly dressed, who stands apart and does not speak: the other monks are very solicitous of this figure, deferring to him in all decisions. A successful Psychology roll will reveal that the younger men consider themselves as ranking below the older man and bear an enormous respect for him; it will also reveal that the quintet is very much unused to the big city environment in which they find themselves.

The outfits of the group conform largely with what one would expect from Buddhist monks but there are subtle differences: a successful Anthropology roll will note heavy tattooing on the monks’ arms heads and legs; woven red twine belts with intricate knotwork; and the presence of short daggers amongst their kit. A very successful roll will reveal that these are representatives of a divergent sect of Buddhism based in Annam which teaches an heretical theory of creation and which posits the Buddha as the head of a heavenly army of demi-deities in opposition to a congeries of negative powers.

The monks will insist that it is the character(s) that they have come to see and will attempt to enter the players’ abode to start a discussion of urgent matters. If the player(s) become adamant that they have nothing which the monks could possibly want and wish them hence, the old monk taps one of his subordinates on the shoulder and makes an abrupt gesture: that younger monk will apologise to the character for their impulsive behaviour and ask that, after they talk to Professor Hardcastle, perhaps they will deign to reconvene with the Lama. The monks will then – unless prevented by the character(s) – begin to depart (in this exchange, the Keeper should drop some clues to reveal that the old man is telepathic and that he can read the characters’, or party’s, thoughts and intentions).

At this point, the party can choose to speak with the monks immediately, or discuss the matter with their friends and Professor Hardcastle first: regardless, if they choose to re-convene with the monks at a later point, the monks will appear at a place convenient to all parties – in fact the very place that the party feels is most appropriate.

Monks of Mlandoth

Professor Hardcastle is aware of the Mlandoth Monks and is very keen to meet with them, although he cannot fathom what would have brought them so far north from their usual territories, nor is he aware of any reason that they should know of him. If reminded of Erh-Chang’s death, he appears momentarily torn up about it but will quickly resume his usual mien; he is often quick to show the party his gratitude for attempting to save his protégé but only in an offhand way. If the party wishes to grant an interview with the monks, Hardcastle is keen to be there.

As stated above, wherever the party chooses to meet the monks, they will already be there, awaiting their interview with uncanny patience. Throughout the following discussion the Keeper will have to drop constant clues to the effect that the old monk is telepathic, until such time as the group calls him on this fact and makes him or his confederates confess to it.

The monks applaud the characters on their successes at the train derailment but they insist that the incident is not yet over: there was something on board the train they state, that the abominations wanted and, not having obtained it, they will be seeking other ways of getting it. The monks say that the destruction of an incarnation of Yidhra’s avatar is only a temporary setback and that her cult will have already set in motion a means to restore its goddess to power: the fact that they risked exposure by attacking the train proves that there was something onboard that was of supreme importance to them.

If the party hasn’t worked out that the parcel that Erh-Chang sent ahead on the Mail Train contains the object in which everyone is interested (or if, indeed, they haven’t worked out that a parcel was sent), the monks will spell it out for them. The address to which Erh-Chang would have sent the parcel is one of two which he has listed in his address book for Professor Hardcastle – his work address at St. John’s University and his home address, in that order. The monks will point out that, if Erh-Chang has been absorbed into Yidhra, the cultists will know which address is correct; the party will have to make a decision as to which address is the right one or divide their forces, as the cultists will undoubtedly be waiting at the correct address in order to intercept the parcel’s delivery.

The elder monk reveals that he has a powerful spell that will disrupt the enemy’s capabilities for a short time but that he needs to know where to strike, as the spell has a limited duration and range: he reveals that he has an ancient scroll (this is a copy of the Black Sutras by U Pao); he will allow any members of the party who express an interest to peruse this document.

The party will have to make a decision as to how they will wish to proceed: they can A) choose one of the postal locations and stake it out with all the resources they have to hand, or B) divide their force amongst the two locations. Devices such as radios will allow the split party to remain in contact and the two locations are not too far apart (both being in the International Settlement).

The rest is up to the party: they know the kind of forces that they will be up against from their previous battle on the train and they should prepare accordingly; further, they have the knowledge of the monks to assist them. The monks will tell them that the Yidhrans are telepathic and that they may be poisonous: they can talk generally about the Sing-song Girls and their abilities, but stress that what they know is just the tip of a potential iceberg.

Showdown!

NB: the parcel which contains the Mask has been sent to Professor Hardcastle’s home address. The Keeper is free to switch this to the University address if they think that this might increase dramatic tension (or if, by chance, the party has chosen correctly and looks good for an easy run). The Keeper needs to make a firm decision about this and stick to it, factoring in such elements as the size of the party, resources to hand and dramatic interest. While not advocating extreme cruelty on the part of the Keeper, the author recommends giving the players at least a semblance of control in the final phase!

There are two daily deliveries of mail in Shanghai, morning and afternoon, and the speediness of delivery cannot be guaranteed. Mail comes in its own time, regardless of the point at which it was posted. Thus, the party can anticipate that the delivery will be made any time up to three days after its arrival in Shanghai on the Mail Train.

So: Where IS the Parcel?

Professor Hardcastle’s house has a mailbox on the back of the front door into which letters fall after being pushed through the slot. This is emptied by the houseboy on a regular basis and the contents placed upon a silver tray near the door in the Professor’s study. The party may well decide to monitor the mailbox for deliveries during their vigil. In this instance however, the parcel, being too large to fit through the slot, it is delivered to the servants’ entrance at the back of the house and is taken from the kitchen to the study and left, not with the other mail on the tray, but on the Professor’s desk. In this way, the party may well miss the delivery of the package entirely.

Significantly, at the University, the process is much more fraught with difficulty. Deliveries are pre-sorted at the Post Office and the mail is shipped over in large canvas bags. These are delivered to the Administration Building and then taken to the Mail-Room to be sorted into a rack of pigeon-holes. This sorted mail is then delivered by a series of internal mail-runs on a twice-daily basis. The advantage of the University delivery scenario, from the player’s point of view, is that the pre- and post-sorting ensures a somewhat later arrival in the three-day window of delivery and may allow them to feel an easing of the tension.

If the party has split up to cover both locations, it would benefit them greatly if they had a means of communicating with each other. Hardcastle has a telephone in the front hall of his house and there is a ‘phone at the Faculty Administration headquarters near his office; alternatively, if the party chooses to splash out on some kind of radio receiving device, they can come up with a different arrangement. 

Given that the party has already encountered some of Yidhra’s band, some contingencies might be catered for by the party: the Sing-song Girls fly, so this may well be countered against; the new Child of Woe might be somewhat less anticipated...

OK: So What’s IN the Parcel?


The parcel contains a valuable cult object much revered by followers of Yidhra – the Mask of the Avatar.

This visage is made from an early type of porcelain and is incredibly ancient. Wearing it allows a non-worshipper to tap into the telepathic communications of the nearest avatar and its followers, connecting them with the gestalt mind of that being.

Whenever the Mask is worn the thoughts of the avatar and its minions become readable by the wearer: these thoughts will be random visions that reveal the intents and activities of the cult entities. This makes the Mask a potent weapon against the avatar but it has rather significant drawbacks:

Each time that the Mask of the Avatar is worn it drains 1 Magic Point from the wearer; initially, the telepathic contact has no effect upon the wearer but soon the visions become hideous and revelatory, inflicting 1d6 points of Sanity Loss (upon a failed save) per wearing. Further, once worn, the Mask has a subtle connexion to the wearer, calling to them in dreams with tantalising visions that lure the victim back to the Mask and tempting them to wear it once more. These dreams soon become daydreams and visions, intruding upon their daylight activities as well. The only way to stop this effect is to leave the Mask of the Avatar and travel well away from its vicinity: after about six months the call of the Mask dwindles to nothing but a distant dread.

At this point in the story all of the above benefits (such as they are) are of no consequence, because the Mask has one last ability and it is the only one in play at the moment: if the current avatar of Yidhra closest to the Mask is destroyed (as Madam Yi has been due to the Warlord’s guns), the next person to wear the artefact is immediately consumed by it and their genetic material used to create a new incarnation of the Outer Goddess. The wearer’s physical form is completely destroyed to be replaced with Yidhra’s avatar in all of its gruesome glory.

St. John’s University, Shanghai


The University, not being private property, poses some difficulties for the party if they decide to strike here. Firstly, the University has its own security force, comprised of two dozen Chinese officers, a handful of Sikhs and a senior staff of Euro-American leaders. While ready to defend the locale, these agents are not prepared for an “all-or-nothing” strike against the facilities; still they are wary and it will take them very little time (say, 10 minutes at the outside) to respond to an attack. The party will be able to gain access quickly to Hardcastle’s office through subtle means (or with his presence); gaining access to the mailroom is another matter:

Much of the party’s movements will be determined by the presence of Hardcastle. If he is with them, they have the ability to create any sort of flim-flam to bypass observant members of staff; without him they must rely on their own skills in Fast Talk, Persuasion and associated blarney.

It may well become obvious to the staff at the University that the party is up to something, either with or without Hardcastle’s willing participation. Security forces will endeavour to contain the adventurers and get them to explain themselves: this should slowly reveal that the attack is not upon the University but rather upon Hardcastle’s home.

The group may well try to enlist the help of the University security forces and get them to assist in rebuffing the Yidhran assault; however, this will depend upon their Persuade skills and their ability to Fast Talk themselves out of trouble...

The Hardcastle Residence


Staking out the address concerned will reveal the presence of shadowy loiterers as evening falls. The party may have various contingencies planned to accommodate potential incursions – allow them to set in place whatever strategies they feel are appropriate.

The Yidhrans have posted several look-outs, low-class human cultists, to observe activity around the post box at the Professor’s home address. The Sing-song Girls of Madame Yi can ‘hear’ the thoughts of these drones so vocal or visual signals are not required of them.

There are six human-seeming women in the street outside the Professor’s home compound: three of them are pretending to be beggars, wrapped in blankets and mewling to the passing masses; two are posing as ‘wild pheasants’, green prostitutes hesitantly plying their trade from the shadows; the sixth is posing as a noodle seller, complete with steaming handcart, calling out her wares. All of these women have the rigid porcelain doll-faces of Madame Yi’s acolytes and are easily exposed if this feature is examined. The four (or fewer – depending upon the outcome of the previous train engagement) Sing-song Girls are flying overhead, finding access points in the roof of the Professor’s house to attack from above: they will work their way down from the roof into the main part of the building to cut any attempts to foil their aims. Finally, the Crocodilian Child of Woe is about to emerge from a sewer outlet on the property and it is a more deadly concern for our heroes.

Once the party is sure of the Yidhrans’ presence, the Lama will begin casting his ‘Close Minds’ spell from the appropriate location (the Professor’s home and place of work are roughly one mile apart). The effect of this spell will be to sever all telepathic contact in the vicinity (including that of the Lama) and will throw the Yidhran cultists and the Sing-song Girls into a spin. They will start to keen weirdly and shuffle in a groping fashion, as if blind. It will take them 1d20-INT rounds to work out what’s happened and to adjust to the change. Please note that the Child of Woe (as a ‘transmitter’ only and not a ‘receiver/transmitter’) is unaffected by this spell.

After this, it just remains for the party, along with their boon-chums, the Mlandoth monks, to finish off the opposition. It is entirely appropriate for the head Lama to sacrifice himself during the combat, leaving the Black Sutras with whichever party member would most benefit from them.


Statistics:

Lama of Mlandoth


The Lamas of the Mlandoth Order are deeply committed to the wiping out – or at least the minimisation - of instances of the appearance of the Outer God, Yidhra. At a crucial point in their training, they take a vow to sacrifice everything in the pursuit of this goal, and this fellow is nothing less than typical of his kind.

A noteworthy feature of the Mlandoth Lamas is that they are telepathic. This is a useful tool for the Keeper to play with and can be heaps of fun. However, it should not be used in too heavy-handed a fashion. The Monks believe in the free will of the individual and don’t interfere in other peoples’ choices and decisions, although they may deplore them. Their telepathic powers are mainly used to gauge others’ thoughts and reactions and to check if they are part of the Yidhran gestalt-mind. The operational range of the power is line of sight.
The telepathy is of a passive, receiving kind; the lamas cannot “talk” to other people using this ability but they are able to “read” what other people are thinking, regardless of language. In combat, their opponents have a –50% disadvantage on all attacks against them, due to the fact that the lama knows what they are going to do before they do themselves. This makes them very handy in battle, especially with their Martial Arts capabilities.

A central part of this Lama’s plan will be to use his spell Close Minds. The range is a circular area of a mile in radius and will cover the Professor’s home and the University Buildings if cast in either of those locations (depending upon which location the party opts for). Once the spell is cast, it also disrupts the Lama’s telepathy, a fact that he won’t necessarily reveal to the Investigators or even to his fellow Monks.

Bearer of the Black Sutras

char.
value
char.
value
char.
value
STR
10
POW
17
SAN
85
CON
10
DEX
13
Magic Points
17
SIZ
9
Move
9


INT
16
HP
10 (27)


Damage Bonus: +/-0
Weapon: Grapple 55%; Head Butt 40%; Kick 75%; Knife 70%; Punch 80%; Staff 75%
Armour: Mlandoth Monks have tattoos which, when Enchanted, give them extra Hit Points equal to their POW: these are eliminated first before their actual HPs start to be counted.
Skills: Martial Arts 75%; Psychology 95%
Spells: Close Minds; Enchant Tattoo; Undo Reversion
SAN Loss: It costs no points of Sanity to see the Lama of Mlandoth


The Black Sutras

“Before death was born, She was born; and for untold ages there was life without death, life without birth, life unchanging. But at last death came; birth came; life became mortal and mutable, and thereafter fathers died, sons were born, and never was the son exactly as the father; and the slime became the worm and the worm the serpent, and the serpent became the yeti of the mountain forests and the yeti became man. Of all living things only She escaped death, escaped birth. But She could not escape change, for all living things must change as the trees of the north must shed their leaves to live in winter and put them on to live in the spring. And therefore She learned to devour the mortal and mutable creatures, and from their seed to change Herself, and to be as all mortal things as She willed, and to live forever without birth, without death.”
-U Pao

Written by U Pao, one of Burma’s greatest scholars, the ‘Sutras contain an extended discussion of the creation of life on Earth and its subsequent development; this in no way emulates Darwin’s Theory of Evolution but has a consistent internal logic of its own, touching upon Mlandoth, Ngyr-Khorath, ‘Ymnar and Yidhra. It is notable for being the only source concerning Yidhra which is unconnected to any process of gestalt mind transference and unreferenced by any of the other standard Yidhran texts. It is said to contain certain chants which are potent against Yidhran avatars and its cult followers.

(Source: Walter C. DeBill, “Where Yidhra Walks”)
Burmese; U Pao; c.700 AD; 1d4/1d8 Sanity loss; Cthulhu Mythos +5 percentiles; 18 weeks to study and comprehend
Spells: “Cutting the Web” (Close Minds*); “Break the Touch of Evil” (Undo Reversion**)

*Close Minds (Mlandoth Rite)
This spell requires the assistance of a second person: the caster weaves a cat’s cradle around their fingers using a red thread while chanting an invocation to Mlandoth and expending 5 Magic Points. Once the ‘cradle has been completed, the assistant must cut the thread with a pair of scissors or a small knife. The moment that the thread is cut, all telepathic communication between Yidhra’s closest avatar and its followers, human or otherwise, will completely stop for 60 minus 1d10 minutes; the effect covers a mile in radius.

Once completed, the caster then needs to make a Luck Roll: if they fail, all of Yidhra’s local followers as well as its avatar, become telepathically aware of the location from where the spell was cast, once the spell’s effect wears off. Sadly, the caster also knows that they know, and suffers a 1d4 point loss of SAN...

**Undo Reversion (Mlandoth Rite)
This spell requires the burning of several rare forms of incense found only in Southern China, Indochina and Burma. The caster makes a set of ritual gestures while performing a rigorous chant, making an invocation to Mlandoth. When cast in the presence of an individual who has been permanently affected by the Reversion spell (q.v.), it will undo the effects of that magic. Note that this spell will also remove the effects of lycanthropy and will purge a victim of the “Innsmouth Look”.

Due to the loss of human sensibilities the victim instinctively tries to resist the caster’s efforts and must be restrained. The victim and caster match CON and expended Magic Points respectively on the Resistance Table and the spell has a base 5% chance of success. The process takes several hours and the caster is left physically and mentally weakened, with a decrease in STR, CON and DEX by 1d6 each and a reduction in all skills by 20% for 1d4 days.

If the caster is successful, the victim must make a Luck Roll: if successful, the change back to their normal physiology is permanent and lasting; if unsuccessful, the victim’s reinstatement is only partially effective and their APP is reduced by 3. Check the following list for other side effects:

Restoration from Subhuman state: subtract 1d20% off all the character’s restored INT and EDU based skills; SIZ is increased by 1. Amnesia: the character needs to make an Idea Roll to remember facts and skills which pre-date their Reversion.

Restoration from Animal state: Lycanthropy – under circumstances which reflect the initial Reversion, the character undergoes infrequent temporary transformations into a Werewolf; the character is more hirsute when in human form and is uncomfortable in restrictive garb or overly enclosed spaces.

Restoration from a Reptilian state: Ophidiophobia; the character dislikes intense cold and is quick to succumb to hypothermia, falling into a catatonic stupor in low temperature environments (<16°C / 60°F); the character is also plagued by recurrent chronic psoriasis.

Restoration from an Amphibian state: The character dislikes dry environments and becomes distinctly cold and clammy to the touch; the character becomes plagued by nervous tics and strange compulsions to do with water – obsessive cleaning, bathing, etc (-20% to Credit Rating).

Restoration from an Icthyoid state: The character has developed the “Innsmouth Look” and will degenerate into a Deep One over the course of their life from this point onwards.

Restoration from an Arthropod state: Entomophobia; the victim experiences constant tinnitus which can require medication to control; such characters become withdrawn and isolated, sometimes literally ‘cocooning’ themselves away; characters are plagued with recurring aphasia, a random inability to produce or comprehend language while under stress.


Monks of Mlandoth


The Monks follow a faith which espouses a kind of “spiritual evolutionary process” not unlike that espoused by Helena Blavatsky in her researches of the Book of Dzyan and her own later writings. The difference between the two beliefs is that the Book of Dzyan’s revelation are esoteric in nature, the teachings of Mlandoth are exoteric – much more practical and down-to-earth in nature.

It is thought that the Order came about due to an infestation by the entity Yidhra in the former French colony of Annam in what is now Viet Nam. The Monks consider themselves sentinels against the infestations of this excrescence and have developed many strategies and rites, which they use to combat it and its manifestations.

In this scenario, the Keeper should dole out two of these fellows for each Investigator, up to a maximum of 10. Like most ascetics, the monks all seem friendly and unworldly, unconcerned with the distractions of modern life. If asked about their positive attitude to their faith, they are contentedly resigned to the demands placed on them, even eager to put their learning into practise. At all times, they are completely devoted and deferential to their lama.

Adherents of U-Pao

char.
value
char.
value
char.
value
STR
12
POW
12
SAN
60
CON
13
DEX
14
Magic Points
12
SIZ
12
Move
9


INT
11
HP
13 (25)


Damage Bonus: +/-0
Weapon: Grapple 55%; Head Butt 30%; Kick 65%; Knife 70%; Punch 75%; Staff 60%
Armour: Mlandoth Monks have tattoos which, when Enchanted give them extra Hit Points equal to their POW: these are eliminated first before their actual HPs start to be counted.
Skills: Martial Arts 65%; Speak French 45%
Spells: Enchant Tattoo
SAN Loss: It costs no points of Sanity to see a Monk of Mlandoth


Municipality of Greater Shanghai Troops

These functionaries are the governmental presence on the streets of Shanghai and its environs. They fulfil a range of policing activities from military oversight to crowd control to traffic monitoring. For the purposes if this adventure, the following statistics will serve for Municipal Troops, Shanghai Policemen, or Campus Security guards at St. John’s University. The faceless minions of Justice all start to blur after awhile...

Shanghai Dogsbodies

char.
value
char.
value
char.
value
STR
11
POW
11
SAN
55
CON
11
DEX
11
Magic Points
11
SIZ
13
Move
7


INT
11
HP
12


Damage Bonus: +/-0
Weapon: Rifle 60%
Armour: None
Skills: Bargain 45%; Intimidate 60%
Spells: None
SAN Loss: It costs no points of Sanity to see a Municipal Trooper of Shanghai


Crocodilian Child of Woe

This massive, misbegotten behemoth is the party’s worst nightmare. It is patterned after the Chinese Crocodile and is just as armoured beneath as it is on top; it can lie in wait and attack from ambush or rush headlong in as the Keeper sees fit. For Batman fans, think: “Killer Croc”. It will try to grab one of the party and then drag them into its lair (the sewer) in an attempt to dictate the battleground for the rest of the party: chasing it into its lair is a better option for it than fighting on the party’s chosen ground. Other Yidhrans know where it is by telepathy, but it is basically a ‘transmitter’ of telepathic thought rather than a receiver and won’t be adversely affected by the Mlandoth Monk’s spell.

Reptilian Horror

char.
value
char.
value
char.
value
STR
28
POW
11
SAN
0
CON
17
DEX
7
Magic Points
11
SIZ
35
Move
9/11 Swimming


INT
11
HP
26


Damage Bonus: +3D6
Weapon: Bite 60%: 1d10+db (20% chance of Poison POT 9)
Armour: The Child has a toughened hide that resists 10 points of damage from every strike by a normal weapon
Skills: Swim 95%; Hide 80%; Sneak 80%; Swim Stealthily 75%
Spells: None
SAN Loss: It costs 1d4/1d10 points of Sanity to see a Child of Woe


Afterword

Weeks later, the party has come to terms with the events of that awful night. In Professor Hardcastle’s breakfast room, the party pores over the Black Sutras while dining on bloaters and bacon. The Professor reads the results of laboratory dating processes on the Mask and pronounces it of great age indeed. He chuckles over the problems it caused and then, in a moment of caprice, puts it on... 

Instantly, he is stricken by a great paroxysm; he chokes and mutters, and then his dead body emits a great sigh. His corpse then begins to unravel itself, spewing forth from his abdomen to rebuild itself as a new entity - as Madame Yi in fact - holding the Mask in her taloned hand and tittering, before launching herself into the sky through the nearest window...

Let the party make its Sanity rolls...



Rewards:
Correctly determining the whereabouts of the Mask: +1d20 SAN
Destroying a Sing-song Girl of Madame Yi (each): +1d8 SAN
Destroying the Arthropod Child of Woe: +1d10 SAN
Destroying the Crocodilian Child of Woe: +1d10 SAN
For each of the Lama’s acolytes still alive at the end of the scenario: +1d3 SAN
Obtaining the Black Sutras: +1d4 SAN
Saving Pei Han-chen: +1d6 SAN
Saving the driver from the Coal Truck: +1d6 SAN
Saving Professor Hardcastle by destroying the Mask: +1d20 SAN
Surviving an encounter with the Warlord General: +1d6 SAN
Unleashing a new Avatar of Yidhra: -2d20 SAN