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Yaaay! Yo-GI! Yo-GI!The Yogi said:Wov, my abscence is like a tumor to my fans!Well then, I'm happy to announce this tumor has been successfully extirpated, because here goes an update!
On a more pertinent note, Skorzeny may well have an enchanted blade, but is it the right sort of enchanted blade? And is Skorzeny up to the task of defeating Black Naga, as Ms. Sita 'Mary Sue' Yogalimari was?
On the one hand, he is trained in the Sun Source of all martial arts, which presumably includes Silat. On the other hand, he is so very incompletely trained in that art.
Also, as for the location of the conversation between Holmes and Smith...
Black Naga may well be a hairy handed gent, and he assuredly running amok in Kent... but I would not want to meet his tailor, especially not in a dark alley.
If I remember correctly earlier in the story Skorzeny was said to be more skilled, or at least more natural, at doing battle hand-to-hand, rather than with blades, so perhaps he might not be all that well-suited for fighting the Black Naga. Then again, he is Skorzeny, and therefore is a match for a mere Old One!
I dunno. Ms. Yogalimari was good; it is possible that Skorzeny is not her equal, just as he probably couldn't defeat, say, Nag Po Lama alone.Morpheus506 said:If I remember correctly earlier in the story Skorzeny was said to be more skilled, or at least more natural, at doing battle hand-to-hand, rather than with blades, so perhaps he might not be all that well-suited for fighting the Black Naga. Then again, he is Skorzeny, and therefore is a match for a mere Old One!
I thought Yogilamari was going to die anyway. Even if she had succeeded in killing it she would still have been killed because of her having to get so close to the killing machine. Why don't I say killing some more?
My point is would Skorzeny really need to be as good as her to kill it?
My point is would Skorzeny really need to be as good as her to kill it?
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He couldn't survive being much worse.Dinglehoff said:
Truly, that would be a mighty battle, worthy of legend.Korppi said:
Poor Bond, he's early life seems to be a string of heartbreaks, beginning with Hannah, then as the sexual plaything of Fah Lo Suee (and while Bond ejoys this, I doubt he' going to take being exposed to Fah's and Otto's deeper relationship very well) and finally, the last nail in the coffin as recently seen in the Casino Royal movie (but originally also in the novel of the same name) the duplicitous Vesper Lynd.cthulhu said:
Thank-freaking-you!Prufrock451 said:
She plans to try - wouldn't you, given half a chance?GeneralHannibal said:
Or more likely, fight the creature together, each with one blade.Dinglehoff said:
Fah is not versed in supernatural lore - she might well assume, or at least hope that an enchanted blade is an enchanted blade is an enchanted blade. As for the relative strenghts vs Black Naga of a Sinanju apprentice or an accomplished Silat praticioner... we shall see, shan't we? Nice reference, BTW: Werewolfes of LondonSimon Jester said:
Damn right! Or to paraphrase the tagline to the Arnold movie "Raw Deal"... : "The Old One gave him a raw deal. Nobody gives him a raw deal!" Anyhow, Skorzeny has done some training to remedy that, trying to integrate the teachings of Lichtenauer with those of Chiun. Since the SS-Rune Sword is a "part of him", in a way using it is for him akin to bare hands martial art.Morpheus506 said:
Good point - it might not have been obvious from Holmes' and Fu Manchu's accounts, but to judge from the novel in which "Mary Sue"Dinglehoff said:
Yogalimari appears, she expected to survive her battle. Hers was not a suicide attack plan. Good thing Fu was there to teach her some humility! So do I... I approach the task with humility...Korppi said:
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Another great read. It will be an interesting turn of events indeed, one can only wonder where it will lead.
i've been a long time lurker,recently,i was out of books so i've decided to read through your story from the begging,i was amazed once again,i wanna thank you yogi for this fantastic read.
keep up the good work yogi
keep up the good work yogi
Simply amazing stuff Yogi, the Holmes cameo made me chuckle with glee! Sir Dennis, then, must be the child of Sherlock's brother Mycroft, or are you using a third as-yet unkown sibling?
Btw, have you beeen poking around the FATW forums lately, Yogi?
Btw, have you beeen poking around the FATW forums lately, Yogi?
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I think all involved do, and I can safely say that you have... NO idea!Sir Humphrey said:
Welcome moonlapse! Good to hear that the AAR can withstand being read in one go. I've had some people reading it complaining about the episodic style, which makes it somewhat hard to read when printed out in booklet form. Fortunately, that doesn't seem to be a problem for all of you!moonlapse said:
Nayland Smith is the son of Holmes' sister (I believe of his sister Violet, but he had others, the Holmes family was actually quite numerous). And I have indeed been around the FATW forum - I'm completely caught up with a Reunited Kingdom campaign right now; amazing mod!VILenin said:
Oh silly girl. Doesn't she know she could also call upon Dr. Jones? Hand him the blade and when the Black Naga shows up, he sighs, pulls out a bazooka instead and blasts the thing away.
On another I note, It was an interesting contrast: Rommel easily talking Patton into disobeying vs. Smith going to all that trouble so that the DoW could be done as is proper.
Ego
On another I note, It was an interesting contrast: Rommel easily talking Patton into disobeying vs. Smith going to all that trouble so that the DoW could be done as is proper.
Ego
A small cave in the woods
Kent, British Empire
Friday July 19th, 1940
The Eater of Souls stirred, causing a shiver to run through the amorphous mass of it’s body. Under the tough gray-blue hide, gelatinous flesh quivered; tentacles twitched; eyes, clustered like obsidian grapes, fluttered as flimsy lids opened and closed over them. Finally, a tugging from its hunter-sense became urgent enough to penetrate its gorging-induced stupor. The prey was quickly – very quickly! – drawing away, leaving the Eater of Souls far behind! Suddenly fully awake, it emitted a queer gurgling scream and rose on thick locomotive stalks.
It’s thirst for blood and madness temporarily over-sated by the previous days carnage, the thing from the Dawn of Time had slept, hidden not far from the site of it’s feasting in a small cave in a copse of wood. Chancing upon the treasure-trove that had been the asylum, it had not been able to resist the temptation, complacent in the knowledge that its human quarry could never travel fast enough to escape. The last three times it awoke, it had seen men ride horses but knew that even so, they could not travel anything near as quickly as itself. But now… for a moment it doubted it’s senses, but there was no mistake – the human prey was drawing away FASTER than it could follow – MUCH faster! Apparently the ape-things had discovered some new, more efficient means of travel. This changed matters somewhat.
Suddenly shaken out of its rest, the monstrous creature emerged from under the earth and crawled/ran/oozed through the trees towards the nearby river Thames. Apparently The Eater of Souls would have to work some more before it could feast on the descendants of his enemy. It wondered fleetingly what had made them escape in the first place, far from the protection afforded by Amaterasu’s gift. Ultimately, it lacked the curiosity to pursue the thought; it was enough that they were unprotected.
Soon, the oily black waters of the Thames once more mercifully hid a thing that should not be from sight, while the Eater of Souls sped like a monstrous inverted dart through the murky depths.
Near the Barricady Gun Factory, Northern Stalingrad
Occupied Zone of the USSR
Sunday July 21st, 1940
Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny could not repress a wide grin at the sight of a group of his men, all bunched up in the shadow of the great factory building and happily brandishing, in salute at their commanding officer, bottles of the appalling fizzy wine that passed for Sovetskoye Shampanskoye. Being among the first to arrive in the city on the Volga, the III Abteilung had been quick to impound a generous supply of bottles in the Univermag department store and stores had not yet run dry.
‘What a sight!’ he complained in mock outrage. ‘And you call yourselves the Führer’s elite!? Is this any proper way to conduct war, do you think?’
‘JAWOHL HERR STURMBANNFÜHRER!’ they all shouted, laughing, adding insult to injury by addressing him as “Herr”. ‘Here, have one!’ they added, tossing a bottle his way.
Skorzeny couldn’t help laughing too, because his men were right, in a way. Ever since the frontier battles, the advance through southern Ukraine, and then Russia proper had lacked the character of a “proper” war – rather it had been a military summer excursion, with only the most perfunctory resistance offered by groups of Red Army troops who invariably scattered as frightened rabbits as soon as any firepower was brought to bear on them. So yes, this was the proper way to conduct THIS particular war, at least in the southern end of the front. Matters had been very different for Army Group North and even more so on the Finnish front, where the exhausted Finns had been hard-pressed to survive the final Soviet breakthrough on the Karelian Isthmus in June. Further south, the Panzergruppe of General von Manstein had been cut off and subjected to a series of ferocious assaults before contact could be re-established and the advance resume. To a somewhat lesser extent, Army Group Center had also had a hard time, with the Russians fighting fanatically and in great numbers to keep the Germans well away from Moscow. But Army Group South, once past the border areas had encountered any resistance only on it's left flank, where the Soviets still held Voronezh against all comers.
The Austrian caught the bottle by the neck in mid-air and, after drawing his sword with a flourish, used it to open the bottle with a flawless sabrage and took a long swig of the bubbling liquid.
‘Aaaah. Not bad. Well, enjoy this while it lasts boys; I keep hearing rumours that the Leibstandarte will be transferred to Army Group Centre for the assault on Moscow, which is bound to happen soon. I guess the Führer wouldn’t have any other division being first into the Kremlin. I doubt Moscow will be as relaxed a posting as Stalingrad.’
The news was not ill received, in fact there was cheering. The men of the Leibstandarte craved to be the first into the breach. This glorified vacation was slightly insulting to them.
The sound of a motorcycle engine grew louder and Skorzeny made desperate gestures to his rowdy troops to hide the bottles, which they promptly did, if only by holding them behind their backs. It wouldn’t do to carouse openly if some higher officer came to inspect the Abteilung.
In fact it was worse; no a superior officer but a military police sergeant, driving a BMW bike with an empty side car, which Skorzeny found ominous.
‘Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny?' he asked, receiving a nod. ‘Good, you’re presence is requested at Pitomnik airfield. Apparently a plane with foreign civilians claiming to know you has landed there. The Feldgendarmerie has taken them into custody.’
‘Foreign civilians?’ Otto asked, frowning. ‘Do you mean Russians?’
‘No, not Russians. There’s a British male, two Asiatic females and two young children of the same race. Do you know them?’
An appalling suspicion appeared in Skorzeny’s mind. ‘Asians? You mean slant-eyed yellows?’
The MP nodded.
‘Is one of the women quite… attractive?’ Skorzeny asked, carefully choosing his words.
Now the Kettenhund smiled, something not often seen and not entirely a pleasant thing to see. ‘Mein Gott, Ja!’ he said, nodding vigorously. ‘What a pudding! The older one is not half bad either, for an untermenschen, but the girl… Oh la la! You do know her then?’
Skorzeny gave the MP a stare loaded with smouldering rage. ‘Possibly. Let’s go find out.’
The group waiting for Otto in the decrepit wooden barracks at Pitomnik Luftwaffe airfield was just about the least expected combination possible; Fah Lo Suee, a mild-looking East Asian woman in her late thirties with her two well-behaved boys - and James Bond, of all people! The current politics in the world dictated that Otto and the young British spy were no longer enemies – but they had tried to kill each other on more than one occasion, both had drawn blood from the other and their last meeting had ended with Skorzeny humiliatingly stringing up Bond and Nayland Smith and delivering them to the British Berlin embassy. Things like that did not go away with shifts in international relations, and the glances exchanged between the two men as they shook hands were not warm.
Even less expected was the revelation of the identity of Fah’s and Bond’s travelling companions and the reason for their visit was bordering on complete insanity. But his numerous brushes with the supernatural together with Günther Duhrn had opened Skorzeny’s mind to the existence of strange survivals from the frighteningly distant path – the Shoggoth of Antarctica, the Son of Set of the crypt of Xaltotun, the various horrid creatures encountered in the Dreamland… why not now this Black Naga?
They were sitting at the edge of the airfield on some empty fuel drums, talking, a bit away from the others. Bond was playing football with the princes while the Feldgendarmerie was busy processing their papers. It had taken threats, namedropping, brandishing of his Knight’s Cross and some judicious smearing of palms, but finally Otto had obtained a permit for Fah and her companions to stay in Stalingrad as civilian visitors under his responsibility and tutelage. Stalingrad being a secure area helped off course – patrols were ranging far and wide, even across the Volga, in search of the enemy and had found none.
As Fah finished her story, Otto could just shake his head, wishing he could not believe her. ‘And… have you told the Empress what’s coming after her and the boys?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. What would be the point? She has a hard time enough as it is – she assumes we’re escaping from ordinary Si-Fan assassins, and that’s quite enough of worry for anyone.’
‘Right. Naturally I’ll help, if you think my sword will do the trick. It has been effective against assorted nasties before, so it might work again this time. But it was intended for two-handed use, and that’s how I’ve trained with it. I couldn’t use that odd dagger at the same time.’
‘I guessed so. I’ll use the dagger then. I’m no bad fighter and it’s me Black Naga is coming after, after all. Just make sure you stay close to me at all times until it appears.’ She smiled and a mischievous glitter appeared in her eyes. ‘And I know, roughly, what just went through that dirty mind of yours and I’d love to, but we better get it out of the way quickly because it won’t do to be… otherwise engaged… when the Old One appears. OK?’
Otto snickered. ‘That’s uncanny! Are you a telepath now, too?’
Fah wrapped her arms around his right one and rested her head against his biceps. ‘No, but I know you. It’s been too long, you know. It’s good to see you again’.
Otto Skorzeny said nothing, but agreed wholeheartedly.
Kent, British Empire
Friday July 19th, 1940
The Eater of Souls stirred, causing a shiver to run through the amorphous mass of it’s body. Under the tough gray-blue hide, gelatinous flesh quivered; tentacles twitched; eyes, clustered like obsidian grapes, fluttered as flimsy lids opened and closed over them. Finally, a tugging from its hunter-sense became urgent enough to penetrate its gorging-induced stupor. The prey was quickly – very quickly! – drawing away, leaving the Eater of Souls far behind! Suddenly fully awake, it emitted a queer gurgling scream and rose on thick locomotive stalks.
It’s thirst for blood and madness temporarily over-sated by the previous days carnage, the thing from the Dawn of Time had slept, hidden not far from the site of it’s feasting in a small cave in a copse of wood. Chancing upon the treasure-trove that had been the asylum, it had not been able to resist the temptation, complacent in the knowledge that its human quarry could never travel fast enough to escape. The last three times it awoke, it had seen men ride horses but knew that even so, they could not travel anything near as quickly as itself. But now… for a moment it doubted it’s senses, but there was no mistake – the human prey was drawing away FASTER than it could follow – MUCH faster! Apparently the ape-things had discovered some new, more efficient means of travel. This changed matters somewhat.
Suddenly shaken out of its rest, the monstrous creature emerged from under the earth and crawled/ran/oozed through the trees towards the nearby river Thames. Apparently The Eater of Souls would have to work some more before it could feast on the descendants of his enemy. It wondered fleetingly what had made them escape in the first place, far from the protection afforded by Amaterasu’s gift. Ultimately, it lacked the curiosity to pursue the thought; it was enough that they were unprotected.
Soon, the oily black waters of the Thames once more mercifully hid a thing that should not be from sight, while the Eater of Souls sped like a monstrous inverted dart through the murky depths.
****
Near the Barricady Gun Factory, Northern Stalingrad
Occupied Zone of the USSR
Sunday July 21st, 1940
Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny could not repress a wide grin at the sight of a group of his men, all bunched up in the shadow of the great factory building and happily brandishing, in salute at their commanding officer, bottles of the appalling fizzy wine that passed for Sovetskoye Shampanskoye. Being among the first to arrive in the city on the Volga, the III Abteilung had been quick to impound a generous supply of bottles in the Univermag department store and stores had not yet run dry.
‘What a sight!’ he complained in mock outrage. ‘And you call yourselves the Führer’s elite!? Is this any proper way to conduct war, do you think?’
‘JAWOHL HERR STURMBANNFÜHRER!’ they all shouted, laughing, adding insult to injury by addressing him as “Herr”. ‘Here, have one!’ they added, tossing a bottle his way.
Skorzeny couldn’t help laughing too, because his men were right, in a way. Ever since the frontier battles, the advance through southern Ukraine, and then Russia proper had lacked the character of a “proper” war – rather it had been a military summer excursion, with only the most perfunctory resistance offered by groups of Red Army troops who invariably scattered as frightened rabbits as soon as any firepower was brought to bear on them. So yes, this was the proper way to conduct THIS particular war, at least in the southern end of the front. Matters had been very different for Army Group North and even more so on the Finnish front, where the exhausted Finns had been hard-pressed to survive the final Soviet breakthrough on the Karelian Isthmus in June. Further south, the Panzergruppe of General von Manstein had been cut off and subjected to a series of ferocious assaults before contact could be re-established and the advance resume. To a somewhat lesser extent, Army Group Center had also had a hard time, with the Russians fighting fanatically and in great numbers to keep the Germans well away from Moscow. But Army Group South, once past the border areas had encountered any resistance only on it's left flank, where the Soviets still held Voronezh against all comers.
The Austrian caught the bottle by the neck in mid-air and, after drawing his sword with a flourish, used it to open the bottle with a flawless sabrage and took a long swig of the bubbling liquid.
‘Aaaah. Not bad. Well, enjoy this while it lasts boys; I keep hearing rumours that the Leibstandarte will be transferred to Army Group Centre for the assault on Moscow, which is bound to happen soon. I guess the Führer wouldn’t have any other division being first into the Kremlin. I doubt Moscow will be as relaxed a posting as Stalingrad.’
The news was not ill received, in fact there was cheering. The men of the Leibstandarte craved to be the first into the breach. This glorified vacation was slightly insulting to them.
The sound of a motorcycle engine grew louder and Skorzeny made desperate gestures to his rowdy troops to hide the bottles, which they promptly did, if only by holding them behind their backs. It wouldn’t do to carouse openly if some higher officer came to inspect the Abteilung.
In fact it was worse; no a superior officer but a military police sergeant, driving a BMW bike with an empty side car, which Skorzeny found ominous.
‘Sturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny?' he asked, receiving a nod. ‘Good, you’re presence is requested at Pitomnik airfield. Apparently a plane with foreign civilians claiming to know you has landed there. The Feldgendarmerie has taken them into custody.’
‘Foreign civilians?’ Otto asked, frowning. ‘Do you mean Russians?’
‘No, not Russians. There’s a British male, two Asiatic females and two young children of the same race. Do you know them?’
An appalling suspicion appeared in Skorzeny’s mind. ‘Asians? You mean slant-eyed yellows?’
The MP nodded.
‘Is one of the women quite… attractive?’ Skorzeny asked, carefully choosing his words.
Now the Kettenhund smiled, something not often seen and not entirely a pleasant thing to see. ‘Mein Gott, Ja!’ he said, nodding vigorously. ‘What a pudding! The older one is not half bad either, for an untermenschen, but the girl… Oh la la! You do know her then?’
Skorzeny gave the MP a stare loaded with smouldering rage. ‘Possibly. Let’s go find out.’
****
The group waiting for Otto in the decrepit wooden barracks at Pitomnik Luftwaffe airfield was just about the least expected combination possible; Fah Lo Suee, a mild-looking East Asian woman in her late thirties with her two well-behaved boys - and James Bond, of all people! The current politics in the world dictated that Otto and the young British spy were no longer enemies – but they had tried to kill each other on more than one occasion, both had drawn blood from the other and their last meeting had ended with Skorzeny humiliatingly stringing up Bond and Nayland Smith and delivering them to the British Berlin embassy. Things like that did not go away with shifts in international relations, and the glances exchanged between the two men as they shook hands were not warm.
Even less expected was the revelation of the identity of Fah’s and Bond’s travelling companions and the reason for their visit was bordering on complete insanity. But his numerous brushes with the supernatural together with Günther Duhrn had opened Skorzeny’s mind to the existence of strange survivals from the frighteningly distant path – the Shoggoth of Antarctica, the Son of Set of the crypt of Xaltotun, the various horrid creatures encountered in the Dreamland… why not now this Black Naga?
They were sitting at the edge of the airfield on some empty fuel drums, talking, a bit away from the others. Bond was playing football with the princes while the Feldgendarmerie was busy processing their papers. It had taken threats, namedropping, brandishing of his Knight’s Cross and some judicious smearing of palms, but finally Otto had obtained a permit for Fah and her companions to stay in Stalingrad as civilian visitors under his responsibility and tutelage. Stalingrad being a secure area helped off course – patrols were ranging far and wide, even across the Volga, in search of the enemy and had found none.
As Fah finished her story, Otto could just shake his head, wishing he could not believe her. ‘And… have you told the Empress what’s coming after her and the boys?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. What would be the point? She has a hard time enough as it is – she assumes we’re escaping from ordinary Si-Fan assassins, and that’s quite enough of worry for anyone.’
‘Right. Naturally I’ll help, if you think my sword will do the trick. It has been effective against assorted nasties before, so it might work again this time. But it was intended for two-handed use, and that’s how I’ve trained with it. I couldn’t use that odd dagger at the same time.’
‘I guessed so. I’ll use the dagger then. I’m no bad fighter and it’s me Black Naga is coming after, after all. Just make sure you stay close to me at all times until it appears.’ She smiled and a mischievous glitter appeared in her eyes. ‘And I know, roughly, what just went through that dirty mind of yours and I’d love to, but we better get it out of the way quickly because it won’t do to be… otherwise engaged… when the Old One appears. OK?’
Otto snickered. ‘That’s uncanny! Are you a telepath now, too?’
Fah wrapped her arms around his right one and rested her head against his biceps. ‘No, but I know you. It’s been too long, you know. It’s good to see you again’.
Otto Skorzeny said nothing, but agreed wholeheartedly.
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The lack of resistance in Stalingrad seems to bode ill for the Soviet Union's prospects against Germany. I suppose that's a good thing as it will draw Pan-Asian troops to prop up the Soviet regime but I hate to see German's win so easily. I'm with Roosevelt on this; Hitler and his Reich are going to be a problem down the road. I've said it before and am sticking to it.
I spent the entire Otto portion of the update still nervous about the Eater of Souls. Your writing still makes me uneasy, sir, hehe. Excellent! I enjoyed the interlude in Stalingrad.
Your writing still makes me uneasy, sir, hehe. Excellent! I enjoyed the interlude in Stalingrad.
Excellent Update!
Have they given up on Durhn for good?
I almost expected them to try and rescue him before the Old One shows up.
He probably wouldn't be much good even if he's even still alive. He would probably have been driven insane by now and his powers probably wouldn't help that much anyway.
Have they given up on Durhn for good?
I almost expected them to try and rescue him before the Old One shows up.
He probably wouldn't be much good even if he's even still alive. He would probably have been driven insane by now and his powers probably wouldn't help that much anyway.
