TOPIC: Horror on the Orient Express - All Rotations

IX THE LONG VERSION

Friday 6th June 1794

What we really need – is an insane fiddler
It is the morning of Friday 6th June. The Festival of the Supreme Being is just two days from now. Having skimmed through the text of The Supreme Void, we know we must find the diminutive violinist, Dietrich Zann. It has been five years since we saw him last. If such a player is in the greater Paris region surely our best chance of finding him will be in the theatre district – known for its arts and music.

Splitting the (search) party
Pressi, Beaumains and Joseph set out to investigate the music halls of the theatre district. Before they go, we learn that Joseph’s real name is actually Martine. Joseph is her invalid husband’s name, whose place she took in the military as army pay (piss-poor as it is) is the only source of income for their family. In the meantime, Babin, Renault and a rather ghoulish-looking Dupois follow up a separate lead. Babin recalls the name of a man once connected to Fenalik. Gaston Moreau was once steward to Fenalik’s household. Perhaps he might know what happened to Zann? Incidentally, Moreau was also once in the service of the late Comte Benoit and his daughter Melody. Moreau would therefore probably have a low opinion of Pressi–we’d be best not to mention him. Babin knows that Moreau was head waiter at the Alexis Rue Tavern. Hopefully he is still employed there.

A policeman, a sergeant and a knuckle-dragger walk into a bar
It is mid-morning and the Alexis Rue Tavern has not yet opened for business. Ignoring the closed sign, Babin, dressed in uniform, rapped on the door. “Open up—in the name of the République!” Moreau himself drew back the inner bolts and opened the entrance. Regarding Babin on his doorstep, he could not help but exclaim: “Argh. Maird. It is you!” Without invitation, Babin and Renault filed past the unimpressed waiter to enter the premises. Dupios followed with leaden arms hanging limp at his sides and shoulders hunched. He shuffled in bestial fashion, like some deformed lower order of life; knuckles dragging across the threshold. Purple sigils now peppered his arms, neck and chest. It was getting difficult to hide his accursed affliction.

“What do you want Babin?”
“You’re not pleased to see me? Surely you’re not still sore about that five livre I owe you?”
“Just tell me what you want then please go away!”
“We are looking for Deitrich Zann. You remember him from Poissy?”
“Oui. I remember Zann.”
“Do you know of his current whereabouts?”
Moreau sighed. “If I tell you what I know, will you go away and promise not to come back?”
“But of course”, lied Babin.
“Well, I have not seen Zann in a long time, but unless his fortunes have changed, you’ll find him on the Rue Feydou. Now please leave!”

The Theatre District
Setting about their investigations, Pressi and Beaumains dress in civvies so as not to alarm the locals. For reasons known only to her—Joseph/Josephine/Martine, tags along dressed as a strumpet. Asking amongst the stagehands at the lower quality Parisian musical theatres they eventually happen upon a lead. It was only a matter of time and bribery before information was forthcoming. After all, how many mentally unhinged, fiddle-playing dwarves can there be in Paris? Zann, it seems, lives in one of the tenements along Rue Feydou, just a couple of streets away from the main district of crappy theatres.

The Coffee Shop of Silence
Reunited in the Rue Feydou, all the investigators bumped into each other. The filthy thoroughfare was long and the three-storey tenement buildings arrayed along both sides of the street were many. Babin tried to gather information at a coffee house but failed to impress the locals. He put their unwillingness to converse down to prejudice due to his disability, namely his false metal nose. Beaumains stepped up and decided a bit of bribery is what was needed. He reached for his back-pocket grape. Unfortunately he came up empty-handed. Try as they might, no method of coercion could elicit information from the coffee shop patrons. We would have to find Zann the hard way. Starting at the near end of the street, we began knocking on doors. We had just two days to find the right one.

Epiphany
If ever there was a man to disprove the theory that all Frenchmen are great lovers—it was Christophe Pressi. Applying to our situation the familiar adage of making up for inadequacy of size, he mused that the dwarf might take up residency at the top of the tallest tenement in the street. Call it little man syndrome. Part way along the street, mounted on the crest of an incline, one building stood out-shining like a beacon. That’s where we’ll find our petit homme.

The Attic Room
Our ascent of the wooden steps to the third floor is loud in the tight stairwell. The tenement smells of stale urine and other offensive odours—although that might actually be Dupois. At the top of the stair we reach the door to the attic room. This is it. Renault knocks. A familiar face opens the door. “Ah. Selene! Do you remember us?”
Immediately Joseph/Martine and Knuckle-dragger/Dupois, the two persons who had let Selene and Zann escape the mansion at Poissy, move forward to present themselves. Despite them being the two of us most likely to be unrecognisable from how they looked that night in Poissy (one now looking feminine, the other like death himself), Selene joyous at seeing her rescuers once more, bursts into tears.

The Zanns
We are admitted to the Zann's humble abode. A single room, with no window to the outside and bare of anything but the most essential wooden furniture. The walls are dotted with areas of exposed plaster, seemingly gouged out of the surface. These exposed areas are densely covered in inked and chalked musical notes, written in a cramped and chaotic style. A toddler clings to the skirts of Selene Zann and Dietrich Zann himself stands with his back to us, his hands held up and moving as if playing a tune on an invisible violin. What we presume to be his actual violin is smashed into several pieces in the corner of the room. The toddler, introduced to us as Hieronymus Zann, overcomes his shyness when Beaumains produces a back-pocket grape. Yes, he has one now. Zann continues to play his air violin seemingly oblivious to our presence.

IX THE LONG VERSION CONTINUED........

We’re here on the small matter of saving the world
Sergeant Renault clarified the purpose our visit to Selene. Considering the outlandish nature of our mission and the small matter of the end of the world should we fail, she took the news quite well. The mind-bending experience of Zann’s playing at Poissy means she understood all too well that there are greater things in this universe than the human mind is able to comprehend.

A new violin
Selene explained that her husband—who still hasn’t acknowledges our presence—is locked in a world of music that none of us can experience. She confessed to smashing Zann’s violin as his erratic playing was driving her mad. If we’re to shake Zann from his own little world and convince him to play the music from beyond, then we’re going to need a replacement instrument.

At the pawnbrokers
Renault confessed to frequenting a pawn shop that might have a suitable instrument we can acquire. Renault’s unexpected familiarity with a pawn shop made us wonder if there was any connection to some of our items that have gone missing over the last few months. Regardless, time is of the essence and we hasten to the establishment. We searched the cluttered shelves and niches of the shop and finally, as hoped for, we discovered a violin of decent quality. Renault, ignoring what his subordinates had to say about the ire of the quartermaster, offered the shopkeep his military issue rifle in exchange. The shopkeep looked uncertain. “It has been used to shoot three aristos” said Babin, trying to sweeten the offer. The shopkeep smiled and now agreed to the deal.

Maestro
Zann’s face lit up when presented with a new violin and bow. He beckoned with his hands to receive it. Renault provided Selene the address of a safe place (pending the world being saved) to take Hieronymous, and insisted they leave immediately. We then prepared ourselves as best we could for what must come next. “You must play the music Deitrich” said Renault in an assuring tone. Wooden chairs were arranged in a circle in the attic room. We each took a seat and Zann lifted the violin to his chin. The violin seemed to self-tune before our very eyes—the strings tightening of their own accord. Zann drew the bow across the strings. A single long note of both torturous agony and exquisite ecstasy filled the air and the room dimmed as if the candles were being doused. Zann’s bow hand blurred as he began to play at impossible speed.

The chaos of the centre of the universe
We are pinned to our seats by unseen force as the music burned in our muscle and sinew. The walls peeled away to reveal some distant realm in the heart of the universe, and the very form of the attic room itself dissolved into nothingness. Around us distant stars burned but then one by one blinked out of existence until all that remained was inky blackness. We could no longer hear the sound of our own screams—only the resonance of Zann’s maddening music. Pain gripped our physical being and blood poured from the ears of more than one of our number. The temperature chills and there is an oncoming rush of overwhelming terror that smothers us. We are no longer alone in the darkness. Azathoth is with us. We scream without sound until we feel like our lungs might burst. There is no order in the universe, only chaos. The music never stops. Babin’s mind collapsed*.


[*D10/D100 San loss. Some folk got lucky—very lucky. Babin alas, in his hour of need, was abandoned by the gods of lucky dice rolls.]

.

X THE SHORT VERSION

Friday 6th June 1794 continued
Waking up in the attic room
Babin is cabbaged. Zann is dead.
A volunteer to be martyred please.
Babin wants to be one with the universe. Let’s grant him his wish.
Arrested as an insane monarchist and sentenced to death.
An uncomfortable brush with François Héron, head of the dreaded secret police
Dupois is arrested for treachery. He will be guillotined with Babin in the morning.

Saturday 7th June 1794
The day of execution.
Babin loses his head but douses the power of Azathoth
Dupois loses his head and ends his curse
Rigaut's skin-etched skulls begin to burst. Euch!!
Talbert is shrivelled into nothingness
Rigaut escapes the execution square
Chase through the streets leads to the catacombs
Rigaut makes his last stand
Thierry Renault is crushed to death
Pressi ends Rigaut’s miserable existence—at a dear cost to his sanity

X THE LONG VERSION

Friday 6th June 1794 continued

Back in the room
In response to the terror in the realm of the Idiot God, everybody blacks out. When we awaken we are lying on the floor of the attic room. Everything in the room is as it was. For Renault and Babin the music from beyond continues to burn in their minds—an eternal earworm. Babin is a drooling mess, his sanity shot. Dietrich Zann is dead. His flesh burned black and body rigid. His hand has fused with the wood of the violin’s fingerboard. His face fixed in an expression of obliterating horror.

Insight
Babin begins to shout: “I know chaos. I am chaos. I know the universe. I have seen it. I am awake to reality. Can you not see the truth?!!” Babin is clearly mad and yet claims to have more clarity of mind than ever before in his life. His eyes stare wide and he drools down his chin; “I am a god!!!”

We need a martyr
We have experienced the music from beyond and survived—sort of. Next we must choose a martyr. Joseph/Martine/Josephine is first to speak: “I cannot volunteer. I have too many dependents that rely upon me”. She clearly also has an identity crisis to deal with. Beaumains speaks next: “My aged father is not well. Without my support he will not survive.” Pressi says nothing. He is too busy thinking that the Widow Zann will need his special comfort. Renault, from a sense of duty, and Dupois, due to his accursed affliction, would volunteer but neither would get the chance. Babin rises to his feet and postulates, “Make me one with the Universe. I must ascend to godhood!!” Well that’s the sorted then.

Let’s make a plan
A plan is formulated. The willing martyr, still drooling and babbling nonsense, will be exposed as a monarchist, arrested and sentenced to death. Doctor Rigaut is bound to attend the public executions at the Place de la République, as is his habit; watching all those souls ascend to the heavens. As our martyr is sacrificed we expect Rigaut to be weakened. We shall hijack his carriage and take him to the city catacombs where he must be destroyed.

Arrest the madman
Babin is stood on a soap box on a public corner. He immediately begins to preach: “I am a god. I am the chaos. I am that which resides in the heart of the cosmos. All will know chaos. There is no order in the universe. You are all doomed.” An audience gathers to hear the madman speak. Renault kicks Babin and whispers: “Fool. You’re supposed to be exposing yourself as a monarchist!” Babin continues, “I am chaos. I will be one with all things at the heart of existence where the blessed spirit of King Louis endures!” At that, Babin is beaten senseless by the crowd. Pressi smiles as he watches Babin receive a severe kicking. He turns to the others: “The plan is working.”

Swift justice
Agents of the secret police arrive on scene to arrest Babin and drag his battered body away to the city gaol. In the cells he is stripped of his false nose, his uniform and is dressed in a white chemise. The French prosecution service is an unrelenting machine that runs long hours. Babin is taken on the evening of his arrest to face the justicier, Prosecutor Fouquer. This is good news for our plan. Fouquer administers swift and merciless justice. Everyone is found guilty. Always. Babin is sentenced to death. He will be sent to the guillotine.

In the gallery
Babin, as he is lead away in shackles, turns to his friends gathered in the public gallery and calls to Pressi; “Do not worry Christophe mon ami. I will take the secret of your tiny penis to the grave!” As they attempt to exit the court, Renault, Pressi, Joseph, Beaumains, Dupois (still shuffling in simion fashion) and Guillame Talbert (who has rejoined his friends) are stopped by none other than François Louis Julien Simon Héron, head of the Committee of General Security—the dreaded secret police. There is a collective gulp.

A very uncomfortable interview
Héron offers his hand to Joseph. Joseph gives an effeminate handshake. Héron keeps the handshake going for longer than is comfortable. Héron looks Joseph in the eye. “Thank you for exposing the monarchist. Your service to the Republic is commendable.” Héron’s speech is slow and deliberate. He gives an insidious smile. He turns his attention to Pressi and addresses him by name. How does he know Christophe Pressi’s name? This is a sinister turn of events. Nervous alarm grips us.

“The dwarf?” Héron says.
“The dwarf?” Pressi replies.
“You saw him dead, n’est pas?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Deitrich Zann. He is dead” Héron pressed and awaited Pressi’s reaction.
“A tragic loss for the world of light entertainment.”

Héron turns to Beaumains. “My spies report you went to see Zann”
Beaumains retorted, “Do you accuse a loyal Frenchman of murder?”
Renault interjected to remind Beaumains of who he is talking to.
“You were there sergeant. At Zann’s address. With your men.”
Renault replied, “I was there. But I went alone Monsieur.”
Héron sneered, “Why do you lie sergeant? Hmmn?”
A momentary silence descends as Héron regards us, each and every one in turn.

Dupois, crumbled under the pressure and broke ranks to rant at Héron. His string of insults had hardly begun when he is pounced upon by secret servicemen. Dupois is arrested on the spot and in short order presented to Prosecutor Fouquer to be sentenced to death for treachery.


MORE TO FOLLOW

Saturday 7th June 1794

The day of execution
Saturday dawns. Babin and Dupois, both manacled and dressed in white, have their hair cut to expose their necks. Along with a handful of other unfortunates they are then bundled into the rear of a horsedrawn tumbrel. The cart is driven out of the prison courtyard to begin its journey to the Place de la République, to bring the condemned to their place of execution. In the square the crowds have already assembled. Renault has positioned his men (and woman), poised for action. Pressi is close to the front. He came early to get a good view. As predicted, Citizen Rigaut is here in the square too. The plan is set. It’s time to save the world.

Reprise I
The two-wheeled cart with high wooden sides rumbles through the streets of Paris, drawn by a tired horse. Men and women stand in the back of the cart, some downcast, some weeping. One man holds his head high. The cart passes along a street lined with crowds. They jeer at the occupants of the cart, laughing and making gestures by drawing their fingers sharply across their necks. But not everyone mocks the cart. The cart continues. Soldiers clear the way and keep the crowd at bay. Finally, the cart rolls into a large square. In its centre stands the guillotine. The crowds throng around it.

Familiar faces
A woman holding two young girls close to her sides watches on tearfully. Babin recognises her. She is Margarite, Sergeant Renault’s wife, with their daughters, Olive and Lucy. A broken old man musters his strength to stand as the cart passes. Remi Beaumains, Michel’s father has made the effort to be here, not to spectate but to pay his respects. A yappy white dog with a single black ear runs alongside the cart. So, Blanco survived Pressi’s pistol shot. A sturdy youth can barely bring himself to look, as the cart is paraded before the crowd. Babin recognises the youth as his adopted son, César. While the other prisoner’s crouch and soil themselves, Étienne Babin stands proud, trying his best not to drool down his nice white shirt. He mutters to himself, “Today is a glorious day. Today I ascend to godhood.”

Reprise II
At the foot of the scaffold, in the shadow of the guillotine, the cart halts. Babin steps out first, his head held high. He ascends the steps of the guillotine. The executioner steps forwards to push him down, but Babin kneels of his own volition. The blade is poised, a shining length of bright sharp steel. The light glints off a small pattern on the blade, a concentric circle. The crowd holds its collective breath.

Time stands still for an instant, and then the blade falls.


Babin conquers chaos
For an instant, Babin finds himself floating in the black heart of the cosmos. Below him is the hulking mass of Azathoth. Fluted music, in chaotic cacophony, surrounds the idiot god. Babin opens his mouth and the Music from Beyond pours from it, drowning the chaotic fluting. Stars are rent asunder as order is poured into chaos. The gargantuan old one reels. Even if only temporarily, Babin has won a great victory over Azathoth. His moment complete, Babin’s consciousness fades from existence. On the scaffold his head rolls and comes to a stop. His mouth opens in defiance of an instant death and utters the final words of Étienne Babin, “I conquer”.

The devil amongst us
Thousands draw collective breath in shock. Beaumains tries to flee in panic. Renault is forced to calm him. In one corner of the square, screaming citizens back away from Citizen Rigaut. In agony, Rigaut cries in an unworldly voice. Skulls marking his skin are bursting and showering those pressed around him with blood. His power is broken. We must seize the moment. Pressi forces the crowd to part by pointing toward Rigaut and crying “Le diable. The devil. He is among you!” Renault, Pressi, and Joseph hurry to their horses. Talbert and Beaumains rush toward Rigaut’s carriage parked at the periphery of the square. Dupois, convinced the unnatural markings that blight his skin have something to do with Rigaut’s power, hastens up the scaffold stair, knuckles knocking on every step, and rests his head on the block. The executioner duly obliges. The sigils marking his skin fade away. The heroic death of Jean Dupois has achieved little more than to lift his own curse.

The end of Guillaime Talbert
Rigaut charges through the crowd. Blood spurting from exploding skulls with every step. He climbs into his carriage and urges his driver to pull away with haste. Talbert jumps into the carriage and draws his bayonet but Rigaut simply gestures with one hand and chants in an ancient tongue. Talbert immediately shrivels and his stunted, desiccated corpse falls from the moving coach.

The chase
Beaumains grabs hold of the rear of Rigaut’s coach but is unable to keep his grip. He falls to the cobbled surface of the street. Renault, Pressi and Joseph give chase. Renault demonstrates expert horsemanship as he reaches down to scoop Beaumains up and onto the back of his mount as he passes. The chase leads through the city streets and, almost predictably, leads to the catacombs. Perhaps Rigaut hopes to shake his pursuers in its great labyrinth or perhaps he hopes to draw upon whatever unworldly power remains in this place to serve him.

Into the catacombs
Grabbing lanterns from inside the catacomb entrance, the chase continues on foot through the dark, corpse-lined passageways. Along the route, engraved skulls scream and explode in a cascade of dust. As they do, more of Rigaut’s skin-marked skulls fade away in a bloody mess. The chase finally culminates in the area we first witnessed the power of Rigaut. Here he makes his stand against us.

The last stand
Pressi discharges his rifle. Rigaut recoils in pain as the bullet passes through him. A mass of screaming little skulls burst from his flesh and blood spatters the wall behind him. Another bullet rips into the monster, this time fired by Joseph. More skulls scream and pop. Rigaut recovers his balance and raises his hands in gesture toward Renault. He chants unintelligible words in guttural tones. An invisible force crushes Renault. His bones break and blood pours from every orifice. Thierry Renault slumps to the ground. Dead.

The end of a monster
Beaumains fires his pistol but fails to hit Rigaut, but the monster cannot dodge Pressi’s sword arm. Pressi runs his rapier clean through Rigault’s body. Rigaut’s eyes widen and the last of the skulls that adorned his flesh cry pathetically before bursting, covering Pressi in ichor. The essence of the ichor pierced Pressi’s psyche, burning his mind with the sound of screaming skulls forever. Rigaut, still impaled by steel, smiled at Pressi, then crumbled to dust.

Epliogue
Of the company, only Michel Beaumains and Joseph/Josephine/Martine Hugel survived relatively unscathed. Christophe Pressi, though alive, was mentally scarred to the point of merely existing, as opposed to really living. Guillame Talbert, Thierry Renault, Jean Dupois and Étienne Babin gave their lives for France.

On Sunday 8th June 1794, joyous crowds thronged the streets of Paris for the Festival of the Supreme Being, to celebrate the new state religion introduced by Maximilien Robespierre. Robespierre however, would survive for a little more than month after the festival. He was considered more and more a tyrant and on 28th July 1794 he met his end under the guillotine, sentenced to death by the merciless, bureaucratic machine he himself had created. With his death, the reign of Terror was ended.


Friday 15th February 1923

Early hours
Having finished reading the pages of the Diary of the Unknown Soldier, Pierre closed the book. A folded piece of paper fell from inside the back cover. Opening the paper he found himself staring at a diagram of a family tree. At the bottom was inked the name of Raphael Boudin-Noir, Pierre’s own father. Tracing his finger along the line of the generations back to the late 18th century he stared at the name of his ancestor, his great-great-great-great grandfather—Michel Beaumains.


END