If Chiun can't do it, I very much doubt that anyone else can. I very much doubt that Fah can do it, though I concede the possibility.elbasto said:
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Smashing update Yogi. Didn't someone say that for Chuin to have meaningful opposition then an Old One would need to be called?
discovery1 said:
Well it depends. Yogi has chosen to make a distinction between 'old ones' and 'great old ones', where the former is much weaker. Sita Yogalimari armed with the blessed blades obviously stood a good chance to defeat the Black Naga so Chuin might be able to do such a feat as well, although I suspect his martial arts form is very much dependant on his adversary being human or of a very similar humanoid race, to be able to fully utilize his 'art'.
Yogi: Yes, I have now read “A study in Emerald", which had a great twist. I can’t say I am too thrilled how he used the Great Old ones and their minions though. That is so too far from how I would envision the world after the Stars are ‘right’ and reminded me of Kim Newman's books, but with Great Old Ones instead of vampires.
Having said that, it’s fun to be reading stories set in Victorian times again. Great atmosphere. Thanks for lending it to me. I’ll give you a full review next time we have a beer.
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Yeah, that distinction was pretty unavoidable once you have a martial artist armed with two knifes taking on an "Old One". It simply CANNOT be a "Great Old One" - Great Cthulhu would have swatted her like a fly without hardly even noticing her, and it's expressly stated that he is not even the most powerful of the Great Old Ones. This Black Naga creature described in the short story must be an order of magnitude lower in power.cthulhu said:
I thought so as well, but I guess it was unavoidable. After all, if he had begun the story with everyone from Holmes to Lestrade shouting, revelling and killing, I guess there wouldn't have been much of a story, nor much of a twist.cthulhu said:Yogi: Yes, I have now read “A study in Emerald", which had a great twist. I can’t say I am too thrilled how he used the Great Old ones and their minions though. That is so too far from how I would envision the world after the Stars are ‘right’ and reminded me of Kim Newmans books, but with Great Old Ones instead of vampires.
Having said that, it’s fun to be reading stories set in Victorian times again. Great atmosphere. Thanks for lending me it to me. I’ll give you a full review next time we have a beer.
Several orders, I'd think.The Yogi said:
To Black Naga, Ms. Yogalimari armed with the blessed blades was a serious, indeed mortal, threat; she would almost certainly have won if not for Fu Manchu's intervention.
To a creature an order of magnitude more powerful than Black Naga, she would be a small problem, to be dealt with over a brief span of time, and which might possibly inflict some minor harm.
To a creature two orders of magnitude more powerful, she would be at best a brief irritant, incapable of making any but the most superficial of trouble.
To a creature three orders of magnitude more powerful she would be a gnat, too weak to be even an annoyance unless the creature chose to let itself be distracted.
And Great Cthulhu would fall somewhere at or above this level, I think. Cthulhu would probably not even perceive Yogalimari as a hostile entity, any more than you would perceive the hostility of a goldfish which was plotting to kill you and ferociously gumming pebbles in its tank so that it could bite you the next time you put your hand in.
Right. One of the best features of the story is the way it horribly perverts the Victorian era while leaving it surprisingly unchanged.The Yogi said:
The Yogi said:
Yes, it should never have been written. A small price to pay to stay true to the master.
Thanks for your comments guys!
Will be away from internet access this week, but will have ideas simmering in the mean time. Se ya all next week!
Will be away from internet access this week, but will have ideas simmering in the mean time. Se ya all next week!
Just a hopeful bump from a long-time lurker who really wants his fix. As long as you have the yen to keep this adventure going, I plan to be along for the ride!The Yogi said:
Bump!
Wow, the Yogi's week-long absence appears to have metastasized. We're just about up to four weeks here. I hope he's OK!
Wow, the Yogi's week-long absence appears to have metastasized. We're just about up to four weeks here. I hope he's OK!
I'm fine, sorry for the delay.
What has happend is (sort of) Holiday - except it's only the kids and me who can stay at home, the Mrs, having begun a new job had only one week off (when we went away, hence the week without internet access). Now I'm home alone with the kids, and anyone having seen "Kindergarten Cop" knows what paces I'm being put through; except that to the difference of Arnold, I turn the kids into Prussians only in my dreams.
Or in fewer words; I can find time to write on the job. I can't at home. Sorry.
Work begins again August 13th.
What has happend is (sort of) Holiday - except it's only the kids and me who can stay at home, the Mrs, having begun a new job had only one week off (when we went away, hence the week without internet access). Now I'm home alone with the kids, and anyone having seen "Kindergarten Cop" knows what paces I'm being put through; except that to the difference of Arnold, I turn the kids into Prussians only in my dreams.
Or in fewer words; I can find time to write on the job. I can't at home. Sorry.
Work begins again August 13th.
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It's perfectly legit; real life takes precedences for those lucky enough to have it. But occasional status updates help us to be sure you didn't suffer some sort of horrible mishap.
The cause of Yogi's absence is not a tumor.
The absence itself, on the other hand...
Good things can have undesirable side effects.
The absence itself, on the other hand...
Good things can have undesirable side effects.
Whoa...just spent the entire night catching up on all that's happened over the summer here. All those updates all at once...I feel light-headed. And now I'm positively terrified to go near any ocean; it's one of the few times I thank God I live in Arkansas.
Hope the family situation goes well, Yogi!
Hope the family situation goes well, Yogi!
Thanks for the bump, LM+, and thanks also for coming out of Lurkdom. As it has been so oft stated, to read is great but to comment is divine!LM+ said:
Wov, my abscence is like a tumor to my fans!Simon_Jester said:
Well then, I'm happy to announce this tumor has been successfully extirpated, because here goes an update!It goes well, thank you Lyon_Man. After reading so many updates in a row, going a month without must be kinda rough... but here goes another one, to ease your pains.Lyon_Man said:
A country road
Kent, British Empire
Friday July 19th, 1940
While Holmes finished his bizarre story, the Vauxhall of Nayland Smith roared through the night. To the nemesis of Fu Manchu, the squat road walls and orderly rows of trees along the road acquired an air of alien grotesqueness and dark, if vague threat. What horrors older than man lurked among the shadows on either side of the road, where the powerful lights of the car could not disperse them?
'All right!’ Sir Dennis finally said. ‘I gather that you believe that this monster is responsible for the murders in the asylum?’
Holmes shrugged. ‘It is an educated guess, but it's the suspect whose capabilities most closely resembles those exhibited by the killer, and the modus operandi and choice of victims also seems indicative of an Old One… they revel in human madness and suffering. Granted, it could be ANOTHER Old One but…’
‘But this Black Naga was supposed to sleep for another thousand years, wasn’t it? Doesn’t that give it some sort of an alibi, as it where?’
Holmes smiled condescendingly. ‘You have a pretty sharp mind, Dennis, but by Jove, you don’t seem to be using it much. How could I not connect the disappearance of the Empress of Japan with this? I think there can be little doubt but that Fu Manchu was up to his old hypnotism tricks when he brought about the Peace of the Two Emperors. Now, if the Empress had not been killed in the bombing, but brought alive here to England to incite her countrymen against the enslaver of the Mikado, what a terrific blow against the Devil Doctor would that not constitute? Who would be thwarting the machinations of that fiend if not the Stalwart Nayland Smith? And who but Dr Fu Manchu would have the arcane knowledge, the temerity AND the motive to awaken before its time Black Naga? Who else would tempt it with the mate… and perhaps also the heirs… of its ancestral enemy, the Sun Godess Amaterasu, causing it to cross the oceans unerringly searching for it’s prey? And who other than the same Fu Manchu, who nurtures his plans for decades before they hatch, could have prepared for this eventuality by interfering in the fight between Sita and the Black Naga, thus preserving the monster for his future use? It all fits together too well, and so I have finally found my man, the murderer of the one woman, save THE woman, Irene Adler, that I have ever found worthy of respect: FU MANCHU!’
Holmes fairly much spat out the hated name as he concluded his expose, his dark eyes flaming with uncharacteristic passion.
Nayland Smith shook his head, awed once more by the deductive capabilities of Sherlock Holmes. ‘All right, uncle. I will do as you say, and send the Empress as far away as possible. But that is only a temporary solution, if as you say, this monster has some mystical ability to find it’s intended victim. The means must be found to kill it.’
‘That mean is not unknown: the two Black Blades are needed, and a martial artiste to wield them. Here is one.’ Holmes handed over a long, wide dagger in a black-dyed leather sheath. ‘As for the other blade, it is bound to be in the hands of Fu Manchu. I’m afraid that is all I can do for you.’
It was dawning, and the Vauxhall had finally reached the outskirts of London.
‘Take me to Victoria Station', Holmes asked. 'I’m taking the first train back home to the house. My bees need looking after.’
‘What? I was hoping…’
‘Dennis!’ Holmes barked, his voice annoyed. ‘I’m into my ninth decade and not in any shape for adventures, and as I told you and Dr Petrie twenty-five years ago*, Fu Manchu is YOUR enemy, as Moriarty was mine. Besides, the work an investigator can play in this affaire is done; I have established with some certainty the culprit, the intended victim, the means and the motive. All that is left now to do is the work of brawn, not brains, and you’re welcome to it. As for me, I will return to my retirement forthwith.’
Thirty minutes later Nayland Smith stormed into the Limehouse safe house. To Fah Lo Suee’s credit, she accepted his story with equanimity, even though she immediately realised not only the Empress and the Princes, but herself was a likely target for the Eater of Souls. Any lesser woman, or man for that matter, might have been reduced to quivering fear or hysterics by the knowledge of a monstrosity older than man unerringly on ones heels; but the daughter of Fu Manchu was used to living under the stifling Shadow of her father, which amounted to pretty much the same thing.
‘Very well, Dennis, we will do as your uncle suggests. Can a plane be procured this very morning?’
‘The Secret Service has a converted Bristol Beufort prepped at Croydon for emergency trips. It should have the range to reach Iceland for the first stop. I’ll call for a pilot from…’
‘No.’ Fah shook her head. ‘I’ll fly it myself.’
Nayland Smith nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll drive you there myself then; the monster could be here at any time, and I shudder to think what it could do on it’s way through central London. I trust you have money?’
Fah patted her satin girdle, which clinked. ‘I left with a belt of gold coins, just in case.’
‘About the dagger…’ Nayland Smith began.
‘I’ll take it, if you don’t mind. I’m quite proficient in Kung Fu myself, and one blade that can cut this creature is much better than none. I’ll figure out how to get the other blade once we're – temporarily - safe in Canada.’
‘All right. I’ll put together a security team to escort you and you can be on your way.’
‘No, absolutely not. No time, no need and no use. Just young Bond – he can deal with any ordinary assassins and he and I can take turns piloting. He is licensed to fly, after all. Besides, he can provide some entertainment along the way – long flights can get sooo boring, don’t you think?’ She winked salaciously at Nayland Smith, who turned bright red with anger and embarrassment.
‘Well! Will you do as he tells you?’ he asked.
‘Certainly not – he will do as I tell HIM. After all, I am a ranking member of the Secret Service now, and wits, experience and knowledge are all on my side. I trust you will not have any problem with that?’
Sir Dennis shook his head. ‘I suppose you make some sense. I hope James will see it the same way.’
The civilian-painted Beufort rose through the thick, grey cloud cover and emerged into glorious sun-light above. Its course was due north north-east, heading straight for Scotland and Iceland, or at least it was until Fah Lo Suee, sitting in the pilots seat turned her control stick to the right, making the bi-motor bank sharply toward the east.
‘What the Hell are you doing!?’ Bond asked, strapped into the co-pilot’s seat. His sharp, slightly cruel features were drawn in a mask of irritation; he had not appreciated being put under the command of the Secret Service's newest agent. ‘That is not the way to Iceland!’
Fah Lo Suee didn’t look at the young agent. ‘We’re not going to Iceland.’
‘What!?’
‘Our destination is a city deep within the Soviet Union, currently occupied by the German Wehrmacht: it’s called Stalingrad.’
Bond was speechless for a few seconds. ‘All right, I can honestly say I did not see that one coming. Might I ask what on earth for?’
‘Yes. Camped near Stalingrad is the III Abteilung of the Motorised Brigade “SS-Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler”, whose commander is my very good friend Otto Skorzeny. Incidentally, Otto happens to be a martial arts expert in possession of an enchanted blade. Isn’t this the most amazing coincidence, Lieutenant Commander Bond?’
Bond clamped shut his open-hanging jaws. There were still the little problems of refuelling in Nazi-occupied Europe, dealing with the surely grumpy German military authorities, not to speak of flying into a war zone – but somehow, Bond felt certain these were only minor obstacles to be easily negotiated for the redoubtable Lady of the Si-Fan.
*See "Ten Years Beyond Baker Street", by Cay Van Ash
Kent, British Empire
Friday July 19th, 1940
While Holmes finished his bizarre story, the Vauxhall of Nayland Smith roared through the night. To the nemesis of Fu Manchu, the squat road walls and orderly rows of trees along the road acquired an air of alien grotesqueness and dark, if vague threat. What horrors older than man lurked among the shadows on either side of the road, where the powerful lights of the car could not disperse them?
'All right!’ Sir Dennis finally said. ‘I gather that you believe that this monster is responsible for the murders in the asylum?’
Holmes shrugged. ‘It is an educated guess, but it's the suspect whose capabilities most closely resembles those exhibited by the killer, and the modus operandi and choice of victims also seems indicative of an Old One… they revel in human madness and suffering. Granted, it could be ANOTHER Old One but…’
‘But this Black Naga was supposed to sleep for another thousand years, wasn’t it? Doesn’t that give it some sort of an alibi, as it where?’
Holmes smiled condescendingly. ‘You have a pretty sharp mind, Dennis, but by Jove, you don’t seem to be using it much. How could I not connect the disappearance of the Empress of Japan with this? I think there can be little doubt but that Fu Manchu was up to his old hypnotism tricks when he brought about the Peace of the Two Emperors. Now, if the Empress had not been killed in the bombing, but brought alive here to England to incite her countrymen against the enslaver of the Mikado, what a terrific blow against the Devil Doctor would that not constitute? Who would be thwarting the machinations of that fiend if not the Stalwart Nayland Smith? And who but Dr Fu Manchu would have the arcane knowledge, the temerity AND the motive to awaken before its time Black Naga? Who else would tempt it with the mate… and perhaps also the heirs… of its ancestral enemy, the Sun Godess Amaterasu, causing it to cross the oceans unerringly searching for it’s prey? And who other than the same Fu Manchu, who nurtures his plans for decades before they hatch, could have prepared for this eventuality by interfering in the fight between Sita and the Black Naga, thus preserving the monster for his future use? It all fits together too well, and so I have finally found my man, the murderer of the one woman, save THE woman, Irene Adler, that I have ever found worthy of respect: FU MANCHU!’
Holmes fairly much spat out the hated name as he concluded his expose, his dark eyes flaming with uncharacteristic passion.
Nayland Smith shook his head, awed once more by the deductive capabilities of Sherlock Holmes. ‘All right, uncle. I will do as you say, and send the Empress as far away as possible. But that is only a temporary solution, if as you say, this monster has some mystical ability to find it’s intended victim. The means must be found to kill it.’
‘That mean is not unknown: the two Black Blades are needed, and a martial artiste to wield them. Here is one.’ Holmes handed over a long, wide dagger in a black-dyed leather sheath. ‘As for the other blade, it is bound to be in the hands of Fu Manchu. I’m afraid that is all I can do for you.’
It was dawning, and the Vauxhall had finally reached the outskirts of London.
‘Take me to Victoria Station', Holmes asked. 'I’m taking the first train back home to the house. My bees need looking after.’
‘What? I was hoping…’
‘Dennis!’ Holmes barked, his voice annoyed. ‘I’m into my ninth decade and not in any shape for adventures, and as I told you and Dr Petrie twenty-five years ago*, Fu Manchu is YOUR enemy, as Moriarty was mine. Besides, the work an investigator can play in this affaire is done; I have established with some certainty the culprit, the intended victim, the means and the motive. All that is left now to do is the work of brawn, not brains, and you’re welcome to it. As for me, I will return to my retirement forthwith.’
****
Thirty minutes later Nayland Smith stormed into the Limehouse safe house. To Fah Lo Suee’s credit, she accepted his story with equanimity, even though she immediately realised not only the Empress and the Princes, but herself was a likely target for the Eater of Souls. Any lesser woman, or man for that matter, might have been reduced to quivering fear or hysterics by the knowledge of a monstrosity older than man unerringly on ones heels; but the daughter of Fu Manchu was used to living under the stifling Shadow of her father, which amounted to pretty much the same thing.
‘Very well, Dennis, we will do as your uncle suggests. Can a plane be procured this very morning?’
‘The Secret Service has a converted Bristol Beufort prepped at Croydon for emergency trips. It should have the range to reach Iceland for the first stop. I’ll call for a pilot from…’
‘No.’ Fah shook her head. ‘I’ll fly it myself.’
Nayland Smith nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll drive you there myself then; the monster could be here at any time, and I shudder to think what it could do on it’s way through central London. I trust you have money?’
Fah patted her satin girdle, which clinked. ‘I left with a belt of gold coins, just in case.’
‘About the dagger…’ Nayland Smith began.
‘I’ll take it, if you don’t mind. I’m quite proficient in Kung Fu myself, and one blade that can cut this creature is much better than none. I’ll figure out how to get the other blade once we're – temporarily - safe in Canada.’
‘All right. I’ll put together a security team to escort you and you can be on your way.’
‘No, absolutely not. No time, no need and no use. Just young Bond – he can deal with any ordinary assassins and he and I can take turns piloting. He is licensed to fly, after all. Besides, he can provide some entertainment along the way – long flights can get sooo boring, don’t you think?’ She winked salaciously at Nayland Smith, who turned bright red with anger and embarrassment.
‘Well! Will you do as he tells you?’ he asked.
‘Certainly not – he will do as I tell HIM. After all, I am a ranking member of the Secret Service now, and wits, experience and knowledge are all on my side. I trust you will not have any problem with that?’
Sir Dennis shook his head. ‘I suppose you make some sense. I hope James will see it the same way.’
****
The civilian-painted Beufort rose through the thick, grey cloud cover and emerged into glorious sun-light above. Its course was due north north-east, heading straight for Scotland and Iceland, or at least it was until Fah Lo Suee, sitting in the pilots seat turned her control stick to the right, making the bi-motor bank sharply toward the east.
‘What the Hell are you doing!?’ Bond asked, strapped into the co-pilot’s seat. His sharp, slightly cruel features were drawn in a mask of irritation; he had not appreciated being put under the command of the Secret Service's newest agent. ‘That is not the way to Iceland!’
Fah Lo Suee didn’t look at the young agent. ‘We’re not going to Iceland.’
‘What!?’
‘Our destination is a city deep within the Soviet Union, currently occupied by the German Wehrmacht: it’s called Stalingrad.’
Bond was speechless for a few seconds. ‘All right, I can honestly say I did not see that one coming. Might I ask what on earth for?’
‘Yes. Camped near Stalingrad is the III Abteilung of the Motorised Brigade “SS-Leibstandarte Adolf Hitler”, whose commander is my very good friend Otto Skorzeny. Incidentally, Otto happens to be a martial arts expert in possession of an enchanted blade. Isn’t this the most amazing coincidence, Lieutenant Commander Bond?’
Bond clamped shut his open-hanging jaws. There were still the little problems of refuelling in Nazi-occupied Europe, dealing with the surely grumpy German military authorities, not to speak of flying into a war zone – but somehow, Bond felt certain these were only minor obstacles to be easily negotiated for the redoubtable Lady of the Si-Fan.
*See "Ten Years Beyond Baker Street", by Cay Van Ash
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I love it - grumpy old Sherlock, randy and audacious Fah Lo Sue, the ever more bitter James Bond and soon...Otto Skorzeny!
