TOPIC: Horror on the Orient Express - All Rotations

V THE LONG VERSION

THE FLESH, THE WITCH & THE WARDROBE ©Mr D. Bane

Thursday 21st February 1923

Prolapse
The old woman continued to stare. The food and drink continued to disgust. We abandon dinner and head for the salon car. To our dismay, the old witch who we’d just left behind in the dining car was already seated in the salon car before we entered. Ludwig decided to appease her by buying her a drink. He approached with a glass of wine with the intention of just leaving it on her table as a peace offering. He found himself unable to step any closer. A sudden revulsion washed over him. He lost control of his bowels in spectacular fashion.

The Running Hut
Ludwig retires to his compartment for a major clean-up operation. Pierre and Percy get a round of drinks, and spit out the foul-tasting liquid at the first sip. No-one else in the salon car is taking any notice of the old woman and their drinks seem to be just fine. Only we feel the oppressive presence of the witch and only our drinks are tainted. Everyone but Ludwig remains in the salon car. All avoid making eye contact with the old witch. Instead they stare out of the windows into the night. Their eyes adjust to the darkness outside only to realise that Baba Yaga’s hut is loping along on its goat’s legs, keeping pace with the train. The evening is rapidly going downhill.

Come Out Ludwig
Pierre and Percy decide to check on Ludwig. As they enter the Calais Coach, Baba Yaga is standing in the corridor. This is not possible. She was still in the salon car when they left and she couldn’t have passed them. Percy calls out to Ludwig. Ludwig, having washed and changed, steps out of his compartment, sees the old witch, then immediately ducks back inside his compartment, slams the door and refuses to come back out. There is a muffled cry of “This is Outrageous!” as Ludwig dives into his bed and pulls the covers over his head.

The Witching Hour
Back in the salon car. A clock chimes midnight. Baba Yaga stands up and slowly walks away. Cartwright and Letty watch her exit the carriage, heading toward the front of the train—the opposite direction from the Calais Coach at the rear. They squint into the darkness outside. The hut is still there – running alongside the train.

Friday 22nd February 1923

Zagreb
At 12.30am the Express passes through Vinkovci. At 01.13am it pulls to a halt at Zagreb. We look out with trepidation. The last time we were here there was a cloaked weirdo holding a lantern who beckoned us from the train. Well, we think so. Maybe. We stare out into the gloom. By the dim platform lights we see a cloaked figure holding a white object in one hand and a lantern raised in the other. The figure approaches. It fits the white object, a mask, to its face and teases us. Do we dare alight from the train and confront the figure? Not on your Nelly! We refuse to be enticed. The Express chuffs out of the station and the cloaked figure recedes into the darkness.

Creeping Flesh
01.30am. It’s late. Or extremely early, depending on how you look at it. Most of us haven’t slept much in the last two days. Everyone retires to bed for some blissful shuteye. Each, unknown to the others, is woken about the same time by a scratching sound. Each of our cabin doors is ajar—not how they were left. Skittering noises are heard and then screaming. Our screaming! Star-shaped appendages of flesh, like hands with tails, scuttle along the floors and walls and leap through the air, each flesh-thing intent on smothering its target. One flesh monster per investigator. Standard.

Cartwright
Nicholas Cartwright, suddenly alert to danger, manages to catch hold of the flesh as it launches itself toward his face. There is an intense struggle of strength and dexterity. The flesh retreats, only to throw itself again at Cartwright. Cartwright ducks and the thing splats against the cabin window. Cartwright picks up an onyx ashtray—a cream coloured ashtray in an appealing marble effect and with a nice heft to it in the hand—and smashes the glass. The flesh disappears through the shattered window and is whipped away by the wind, lost to the night. He coolly lights up a cigar before responding to the sound of Letty screaming nearby.

Ludwig
Ludwig is smothered but manages to pull the thing from his face. He smashes it on the side of his bed then stuffs it in the wardrobe. The thing thumps repeatedly against the inside of the door. Ludwig puts his shoulder to the wardrobe to hold it closed. His fellow passenger, Danton Szorbic, wakes. “Nothing to see here my dear Szorbic. Go back to sleep,” says Ludwig, straining with all his strength to keep the thing trapped.

Percy
Percy is lying in his bed. He can’t breathe. Something is on his face. He feels it constricting. He needs to act fast or he’ll asphyxiate. He struggles with the muscular flesh-thing and eventually manages to peel it away. Now able to breathe, he gulps down fresh air. The thing grips him again. Chocking the life from him. He peels it away again. This back and forth continues. An epic struggle—all in the comfort of his own bed. Finally Percy manages to get a good hold of it and smacks it against the edge of his bedside cupboard.

Letty
Letty screamed loud enough to wake the dead. But not loud enough to wake Elena Costanza who was still unconscious. Pickled in alcohol following an evening’s drinking with Letty. The flesh tried multiple times to grasp at her face. Letty danced like a lunatic to avoid it. She opened her window. Then ducked. The flesh leaped at her—and flew straight out the window. Cartwright appeared in her doorway, looking cool in his night attire, holding a sexy ashtray in one hand and a fat cigar in the other.

Pierre
Pierre punches the flesh but it folds around his fist and smothers his face. The flesh tightens its grip on Pierre’s face and throat—squeezing the life from him. He tears it from his face and throws it away—out into the corridor. But the flesh immediately crawls back. At frightening speed it launches itself at Pierre and re-establishes its grip on his face and throat. Pierre manages to remove it and throw it back out into the corridor for a second time. But again, the flesh comes back for more.

Finishing the Flesh
Cartwright dashes into Pierre’s compartment. He’s swapped his ashtray for his cultist flaying knife. With a deft flick he slices through the flesh attached to Pierre’s face and once peeled away he skewers it—dead. Pierre and Cartwright then perform a similar rescue of Percy from his flesh problem. Banks and Mika too had their own fleshy assailants to be dealt with. Once done, everyone breathed a deep sigh of relief. Wait. What was that? Ludwig’s voice was raised above a continuous drumming sound: “Bitte. Kann sie mich behilflich sein?”Thump. Thump. Thump.

The Thing in the Wardrobe
Ludwig was still pressing his weight against the wardrobe door. Cartwright and Pierre took charge. Flaying knives at the ready. They opened the wardrobe. The thing flew out. Despite Cartwright ending up face down almost in the wardrobe, the knife wielding duo managed to slice the flesh to death. Ludwig, in gratitude to Cartwright, reached into the top of the wardrobe and pulled out his top hat. He presented it to Cartwright with a slight nod of the head and soft press of barefoot heels: “For you Mein Freund.”

VI THE SHORT VERSION

Friday 22nd February 1923
Delirious Jack Gatling
Helmut goes to sleep
Origins of the Flesh Creepers
Lord Margrave leaves us
We dump Gatling in the toilets at Ljubljana
More degradation
In the news: Vagrant slain in Islington
Is that our fireman?
Blue-White glow in the night
Percy takes a walk—
along the roof of a moving train!

VI THE LONG VERSION

Friday 22nd February 1923

Nighty Night Helmut
One thirty in the morning. After settling our nerves with a medicinal brandy in the salon car, we return to the Calais Coach to disturbance inside Father Mika’s cabin. Perhaps Jack Gatling is having a nightmare? We push open the door, and sure enough the odious American gutter journalist is writhing in his cot. Mika checks him and steps back as Gatling makes a grab for him. Gatling is delirious. He starts calling out: “They came for me! They came for me!”
“Who?” asked Mika. “Wer ist es? Who came for you?”
As Gatling continues to try and grab at him, Mika notices that Gatling’s pyjama shirt is soaked in blood. With Gatling injured and in such a restless state, Mika reaches into his Gladstone for a sedative and loads a syringe with laudanum. But Gatling resists. The two men wrestle with each other until in a freak stroke of misfortune, Mika accidently stabs himself with the syringe and collapses with a thud to the floor. He sinks into blissful unconsciousness.

Origin of the Flesh Creepers
Ludwig steps in and sedates Gatling. He then checks beneath the American’s bloodied shirt and steps back aghast. Six terrible wounds have been inflicted across his chest and abdomen. Six tracts of flesh gouged from his body.
“Six flesh creeping monsters,” whispers Cartwright in awe. The realisation of truth in Cartwright’s words stuns us all.
“Ritual magic?” proposes Ludwig.
“Let’s just throw him off the train,” continues Cartwright.
Percy is the voice of reason. “We can’t just throw people off the train everytime there’s a problem!”
“When’s our next stop?” asked Ludwig. Perhaps we can get him off the train there.”
“Ljubljana. Another two hours ahead of us.”
We agree it would be more humane to remove Gatling at the station in Ljubljana. Until then Ludwig wraps his wounds while Percy and Pierre lift Mika into his cot.
“He’ll be okay,” said Ludwig. “We’ll leave the old fool to sleep off the sedative.”

Gatling and Margrave leave the Express
Pierre checks through Gatling’s belongings, relieves the American’s wallet of $25 US dollars and pops and IOU in the top pocket of his pyjama shirt. This is not stealing. This is borrowing. That IOU is genuine. We spend Gatling’s money on a fine bottle of cognac to while away the hours until the Express pulls in to Ljubljana station. For a short stop at this ungodly hour, the platform was busier than expected. We were surprised to see Lord Margrave disembark. He wore his hat and overcoat and carried his luggage with him. He headed straight for the exit, clearly with no intention of coming back. Whoever Makryat is impersonating, we can now rule Margrave off the list of suspects—along with Gatling. Ludwig and Percy lug an inert Jack Gatling off the Express and across the platform to the station toilets. Two patrons in the men’s room stare with fascination as they enter. Ludwig and Percy grin inanely and explain: "Our friend has had a little too much to drink and is incapable of walking unsupported". Excuses given, they waste no time dumping Gatling in a toilet stall. He’ll be found soon enough and will receive better medical care than be provided on the train. We console ourselves in the knowledge that this is better for everyone.

Bring on the Degradations
At 4.05am, the Express is back underway. We’ve got four hours to catch up on some sleep. Breakfast is at 8.0am. Arrival at Trieste is 8.30am. At breakfast our degradations due to our exposure to the accursed Simulacrum have worsened. How much more can we take? We’re long past being able to pass ourselves off as human.

Father Helmut ‘Mika’ Dhole. Sweating blood from every pore. And now (despite some excellent drug-induced rest from which he’s only just woken) his skin is sore and cracked like a dry riverbed.

Nicholas ‘The Magnificent’ Cartwright. Already afflicted by lesions leaking mucus and the stink, he’s now developed sores which ooze thick blood.

Simon Percy. Heir to the Dukedom of Northumberland. Added to his horrific worm-riddled skin, he’s now also developed dark dermatological blemishes that sprout fungus.

Ludwig von Brunveldt III. He of the red rash and loose skin is horrified to feel a lump beneath his skin that moves of its own accord.

Pierre Boudin-Noir. He of the rancid reek and oozing bile from every orifice is also now discharging mucus from bodily lesions too.

Lettice Jayne Rose Henderson. Still incessantly picking at the skin of her weeping sores and attempting to cover up her blackened bulging veins, she now must contend with tightened skin that is pulling so taut it threatens to split. On the upside she looks ten years younger.

George Banks. A veritable god. He’s swapped haute couture fashion, smouldering good looks and sophistication for baldness, profuse sweating and now ugly bulging veins.

Times Headline
Cartwright sees that the Express has taken on English language newspapers. They’re a couple of days old. He reads the Times over breakfast. An article catches his eye which he reads aloud.



Begging Letter
At Trieste, sans gale force winds on this occasion, Percy gets off the train to send a telegram to his father, the Duke of Northumberland. He asks for a £150 to be wired to us in Milan. Cartwright also gets off the train and spends his time gazing into the window of the milliner’s shop where Ludwig purchased the top hat he was now wearing. He’d return the favour and buy a new hat for Ludwig, but we’re running low on funds; hence Percy’s shameless begging message to his old man.

Fallen Fireman
The Express pushes off across Northern Italy to arrive in Milan in the late afternoon and a happy Simon Percy picks up £150 from the local Western Union office. Sorted. As darkness falls the Express continues once more on its way. The train labours as the tracks meander and ascend into the foothills of the Alps. We dress for dinner, trying our best to pass for relatively normal. Other passengers give us the eye of disgust but the staff, to their credit, don’t show the same revulsion as the passengers. We look out of the window. It’s dark. However, due to the slowed speed of the train, we do manage to catch a glimpse of a body lying beside the track. The body of a fireman. If that’s our fireman, then only the driver can be left in the locomotive. We inform our conductor, Estelle, who disappointingly doesn’t seem to take our claim seriously. He’s in no rush to report it.

Mission Impossible—Cue Music
Taking matters into our own hands, we investigate. Leaning out of a carriage window as the train follows a bend in the track, we’re able to spy the locomotive. It is shrouded in a blue-white nimbus that glows brilliantly in the night. We are suddenly thrown about in the carriage as the whole train jolts. The Express is beginning to accelerate—uphill. Something is very wrong. Percy takes the lead, he bravely clambers up onto the roof of the Calais Coach. There’s several carriages between us and the front of the locomotive engine and the train continues to pick up speed. Undeterred, he starts to move along the carriage roof, pulling his jacket tight around him to guard against the biting February Alpine wind. The man’s clearly lost his mind—and we think he’s expecting us to follow him.

VII THE SHORT VERSION

Friday 22nd February 1923
Roof walk along the speeding train
Need better weapons for what’s to come
Disable fourgon guards and take their guns
Back on the roof and up to the tender
Two Brothers of the Skin
Simon Percy—sniper extraordinaire
Helmut Dhole gets a new skill: Throw anthracite
Percy gets a necrotic make-over
We Win. The train is ours.
Oh dear. The train has other ideas.
Back to the Calais Coach
Where did the Creepy Coupe come from?
The tolling of the bell.

VII THE LONG VERSION

Friday 22nd February 1923

Suspects in the Salon Car
The Express continued to accelerate. The cold air bit deep. Everyone hugged overcoats tight around them and leaned into the wind to take each step forward. A continuous stream of smoke and steam emitted from the engine funnel was blown at us by the wind. The blue-white glow of the nimbus that shrouded the engine continued to light our way. Letty, Pierre and Banks remain in the salon car with Rama Ho-Tet, Kurt Groening, Sir Robert Harrow and Elena Costanza. If Makryat is in the locomotive engine, he couldn’t be impersonating any of these.

We need guns
After the Calais Coach, the restaurant car and the salon car, there were two more passenger coaches and the three fourgons to traverse. It seemed like an age and a herculean effort to reach the first of the fourgons. Here we paused. We knew the guards had guns. We had none. Two cultist flaying knives and a bunch of cheap souvenir blades from the Constantinople bazaar is all we had between us. If we were to have any chance against whatever awaited us at the engine, we needed better weapons. Yesterday, at Svilengrad, the guards confronted Cartwright immediately when he first attempted to enter. But that time the train was at rest and people were coming and going. Maybe this time we’ll catch them unawares, dropping in whilst the train is in motion.

A Cunning Plan
Iron hand holds, fixed to the side of the cargo coach, provided the means to clamber down to the sliding door. The padlock was already undone. We formulated a plan. There would be a signal. “Eins. Zwei. Drei!” called Mika and Ludwig. Nobody was sure why. But that was the signal. Cartwright and Percy hauled open the doors and flung themselves into the relative safety of the fourgon. At least they were out of the rush of freezing air. No sign of the guards in the first compartment. They signalled it was safe for Ludwig to join them. Mika was unsure if his strength would allow him to clamber down, so stayed on the carriage roof, clinging on for dear life.

The Fourgon
The trio snuck through the fourgon carriage. They were surrounded by crates of every size. But nothing looked of the size and shape to hide the Simulacrum. There were voices at the far end of the carriage. Plan A. We held our collective breath and stealthed our way toward them We’d take them by surprise and relieve them of the guns. It would be easy. However, so many crates were there that as we attempted sneak up on our prey one wooden chest was knocked over and volumes of books spilt out. Oops. Plan B. We heard the guards stir and footsteps approached. We back-tracked to a niche where we could hide ourselves.

Ambush
The quickly improvised ambush went like a dream. Percy caught the first guard by the arm and swung him round to Cartwright and Ludwig. The guard lost his balance... and more importantly lost his grip on his gun, which skittered across the wooden boards of the carriage floor. Cartwright reached for the gun and trained it on the stunned guard.

Sorted
Guard number two got a shot off at Percy. Ludwig rushed the guard and grabbed the gun from the guard’s hand. “Danke” he said politely as he snatched the weapon. Percy slugged the now unarmed guard with a right hook. Cartwright calls for the guards’ surrender. They duly submit. While Ludwig attends the bullet wound Percy had just sustained—a graze, thankfully. Cartwright tied the guards together back-to-back. They would escape Cartwright’s usual impulse to throw people off the train. They were innocents after all. We found a third handgun—all .38 revolvers but no spare ammunition for any of them. A quick search discounted the chance of the Simulacrum being in the coach. Weapons secured. Guards disabled. It was time to regain the roof of the train.

Sniper
With the dangerous roof-crossing of two more fourgons negotiated, we climbed down to the tender. There we stood, blackened by coal dust, ashes and smoke. We peered into the nimbus’ glow to spy two men on the footplate of the engine. Their physical constitution was unmistakable. They were Brothers of the Skin. Percy took aim. He pulled the trigger. The head of the first cultists exploded. The second Brother was showered in blood and brains—a look of shock on his face. He soon shook that off and stood stalwart. A bullet from Ludwig’s .38 hardly fazed him. Cartwright shot wide of the mark. The Brother snarled and gestured with his hands. He uttered words which we failed to hear over the noise of the train. Percy feels a strange force trying to take over his body. He shakes it off. The Brother looks annoyed to realise Percy remains unaffected by his efforts.

The Tunnel of Love
Father Mika enters the fray and hurls a lump of anthracite at the Brother. A skill we didn’t know he possessed. But not one he proved to be very good at. And then the stars went out. The noise in our ears changed. The Express had rushed headlong into a tunnel. A long tunnel beneath the Alps. Next stop Switzerland. If it wasn’t for the fact the engine was glowing blue, the world would have gone black. Cartwright, Ludwig and Percy shoot at the Brother. The Brother stands in defiance against the hail of bullets. He simply gestures again at Percy. This time Percy cries out in agonised pain. His skin turns black. Necrotic. The Brother smiles. Pleased with his effort. Then promptly collapses from the exhaustion of casting raw magic.

Mind-Bending moments
The blue nimbus fades. Now it really is dark. Only the light of the firebox pervades. Casting an eerie orange glow on our faces. Victorious we step down to the footplate. We cast the bodies of the two Brothers aside. Their bodies are lost to the tunnel. We have captured the locomotive engine. If only we knew how to drive a train. Before we get the chance to mess with anything, the train shifts and transforms before our eyes. The firebox is a ravenous fiery maw with black cast iron teeth, spitting flame and cinders. The iron, brass and steel around us becomes black, rubbery skin with a wet sheen. The glass pressure dials blink as they transform into glinting yellowed eyes. Ludwig’s mind is flooded with revelation. This very thing is an evocation of Nyarlathotep. Outrageous.

Light at the end of the tunnel?
We exit the tunnel. Still at considerable speed. The air and noise change again. The stars re-appear in the sky. Welcome to Switzerland. Unfortunately the train is still Hellish. As we follow a curve in the track, the train thankfully starts to lose some of its speed. We glimpse the front of the train. The front of the locomotive has one great lidless eye. We attempt to uncouple the engine from the rest of the train. But the anatomy has changed. No longer a mechanical coupling, it is something more organic. We decide to distance ourselves from the locomotive and retrace our daring roof walk intent on returning to the familiarity of the Calais Coach. But staring back we cannot fail to notice a new carriage has attached itself to the rear of the train. Behind the Calais Coach is a carriage that looks like a gothic castle on wheels. Tall turrets pierce the sky above the train. Stained glass windows shine with a strange light within and the sound of a bell tolls. The bell through sounds strangely distant.

Father Mika looks over Ludvig's shoulder as he makes his journal entry...

"Mein Freund
Ich Gaube ze rescht schreibiung ist 'moor', err. 'moore.. more? moir, mawr, moar, de mora, o' more, mure...'

Warum tust du es nicht,

Ingluviēs (latin) was bedeutet "maw," "craw," or "stomach," und kann auch verwendet werden, um zu beschreiben 'a cavernous opening' wodurch jegliche Verwirrung vermieden würde und nebenbei bemerkt genauer sein. Die englische Grammatik ist so verwirrend!"