Scene 1: Arrival in Oz

 

In the Year of the Obliging Zealot, Spring of the Reminiscent Monk…

 

Friday, May 20, 1922

• EXPECTED (OPEN) SCENE: Arrival in Oz. CF5; Everett Flynn

• [0930, Q5] I have found myself in a strange city, and that undersells the situation by a lot. I spent the morning in Washington Square Park wondering what to do after I lost my match last night (only 2 rounds!), and then I went to mail my mom. At the post office, I spotted a weird paper on the notice board: something about getting rich by hunting a 'Rak.' I took it off for a better look, and then…brand new city, flashing lights, lots of noise, lots of green. Moments after I arrived, disoriented as I was, a stocky, short man in a red fedora with a creaky voice asked if I had dropped my bag while handing it to me. He disappeared into the crowd as I thanked him and checked the bag - it certainly wasn't my satchel: stark yellow with a tag on the strap: "D. U. G." All it had inside was a purple book embossed with 'Kip Kaarson.' I spent an hour trying to get to terms with my situation. Everything here seems just about normal, except for the cat walking on two legs, the talking bread, the robots, the color-changing horses, and…well, everything. The locals told me I'm in Fuddleville, in southeast 'Oz.' As if that means anything sensible. Apparently 'New York City' means nothing but 'outsider' to them, so fair's fair, I suppose. My wallet and watch also went missing with my bag; all I had were some heavy coins in my trouser pockets instead. {T+0100}
• [1030, Q5] A trio of giant bugs, not the first I've seen here, came up to me after a bit. I guess they overheard me asking about getting back to Manhattan, and they asked me all about it. I recognized this opportunity: they had questions, so did (well, still do) I. They seem to be students of a sort from a neighborhood in the northeast, across a river. We spent almost a whole hour and though I barely got a word in edgewise I got to ask a few questions of my own. This job posting is a contract from the Watcherfolk, who I can find at North Watch [G2] halfway around this city. However, they got into an argument about the nature of this Rak-thing itself. That wasted a bunch of time -- I might get more info at the base. I asked about Kip Kaarson near the end, and they suggested I read the paper -- it seems he's some rich guy who had a break-in just the other day. This doesn't bode well. {T+0050}
• [1120, Q5] Until I can work out whose bag this is, I'm going to have use it instead of my own. In a stall outside of a gambling joint I bought a cheap pen and this notebook. I also found a boy on the corner selling papers and maps of the city, that'll be a help. I want a few other things, so I asked after a good market. I was directed to Pumperdink Plaza [G3]. 'Best in the city,' he said. I guess it's near that North Watch place. {T+0010}
• [1130, Q5] As I put my stuff away, paper to be read later over a coffee, I heard "You there, with the yellow bag!" Four people with uniforms and truncheons looking my way? Well, I took off. This bag isn't mine, but who would believe me about how I got it? Especially if it has something stolen from some rich guy! I ran down the street and ducked into an alley, then hustled to the next street over. They spotted me one last time before I lost them in a crowd and booked it down a flight of stairs into some sort of subway station. I didn't have time to figure out the lines, I just bought a ticket and jumped into the first car I saw. As the doors closed, I studied a map on the wall: I was on the Yellow Line, and there were only 3 major stations between me and Pumperdink Plaza. {T+0030}
• [1200, Q5>Q7] Having figured out where I was, and that I luckily happened on a line going right to my destination, I ambled back along the train. It's not much different than the ones back home. The strange denizens do what we do on the train: mostly sit quietly, or talk among their travelling companions. There were crying babies, folks with shopping bags either full or empty, some tradesfolk eating some paper-wrapped takeaway for lunch. The last car was empty. I copied the train line map from the wall poster onto my tourist map, then sat down to relax for the rest of the trip. {T+0030}
• [1230, Q7>W6] While searching the satchel for anything that I may have missed, I dislodged a packet of subway tickets what was wedged between the seats. There's 20 of them, all unstamped. Those will come in handy if I need to make another quick getaway. {T+0030}
• [1300, W6>W7] After I spent another stop watching for guards and hiding this yellow bag with my body, I found myself with a pair of guys who look like inflated balloons! I did my best not to spend much time looking at them, but they had a little sparring match in the middle of the car. Being in the business, I took notice and nodded and ducked along with them…and they spotted this. We talked briefly about boxing as we got into a station signed 'Repository.' Sid and Marv told me they've got a gig performing at a sports-themed bar nearby. They give me a card and a ticket for a free drink at The Depot Gallery as they left. {T+0030}
• [1330, W7>G3] I figure the train was halfway between stops on my last leg when I heard whistles blowing, and shouting, from up ahead. I was trapped in the back car, unless I was going to try jumping out into the dark tunnel (no thank you!). I quickly stuffed the yellow satchel under my jacket between me and the seat, then pressed back as hard as I could. In a matter of moments, a quartet of those strange bugs ran in carrying a long roll of some sort of silvery foil over their heads. As they rushed past, my attention was on the two Watcherfolk barreling through the sliding doors maybe ten seconds behind. As I turned my head from the pursuers to the pursued, I found naught but the empty end of the train! Totally absent, not even a trace! Well, these folk looked me over quite well, but I only offered up my hands and a quick shrug. One went around checking the doors and seats while the other questioned me, apparently for lack of anything else to do - have I seen them before, do I know them, what am I doing here, where am I going, and so on. Increasingly aware of this bag uncomfortably crammed behind my back, I was worried but they seemed not to notice as I gave the shortest answers possible. When we arrived at the station, they both made a quick exit. I left by the other side of the car, glancing backward and holding this damned yellow bag in front of me. I need to figure out what to do with this thing. It feels like there's opportunity here, and throwing it away would be a waste. The signs read 'Pumperdink Plaza,' and if this is the best market in the city I ought to be able to find a solution for sale. Or maybe that rich guy is offering a reward? {T+0030}
• [1400, G3] Taking a moment to look around the area and decide where to start, and what I was most interested in procuring, I soon started to look around for a bagmaker. Trolleys, horses and buggies, even automobiles whizzed past in the roadway, and the walkways were packed around storefronts and open stalls. At one point a whole army of workmen with poles and ropes and pulleys began cutting off the street I was on, and unable to slip past I was forced to waste some time on backtracking. After some more fruitless minutes, spending more time looking at signage than my front, I bumped into one of the large, walking pastries. Apologizing, they asked if I had noticed a bright purple coin purse on my walk. I had not, of course, but by way of making amends for running upon them, I agreed to help in the search. After half an hour had passed, Ci Bunn, as introduced, decided with some exasperation to call it off and report the loss to the local Watch station. Thanking me for my assistance, they left me to renew my own search. After a little while longer, I struck some luck. A baggage store with plenty of samples in the windows. However, after entering I found the clerk busy taking very detailed orders for embroidered handbags from a trio of even more of the pastry-folk. I waited for a bit but decided to call it off after the clock struck four and I had only an hour remaining and still required more than just this bag. Noting the address of Same Way Bags (near the intersection of Other Way), just in case, I set off instead to locate a department store. After asking a few locals, and a thirty minutes of walking through the busy streets, I found myself in the lobby of the Jeneral, Goodes & Co. Being a larger facility, I set out to the menswear department and assorted others with just enough time to spare before customers were invited to vacate the premises. I was able to obtain some spare underclothes, a package of decent handkerchiefs, a tin-clad pocketknife, some personal hygiene implements, and a lovely, if plain, brass pocket watch with a built-in bell alarm. All told this cost me, as I estimate their money to be valued, $8.91. The next task was to find a decent diner to rest my feet and have a meal and read my paper. Afterwards I must immediately find a room to rent for the evening. {T+0300} Special Note: a secret agent of the Zuminati noticed the party by way of the yellow bag and began a discreet and unnoticed trail. They want to see where I am going and are sure to make some trouble later.
• [1700, G3] Just as I crossed the street, the last people spilling through the doors behind me with packages and bundles, I heard a call: "You there, with the yellow bag!" At first I froze, but it was a small, grey-haired lady wearing a violet dress and a grey shawl. "You aren't from here, are you? Need some advice? I have the gift, and I can tell you something nobody else can. Only two silver pennies!" My first instinct was to turn and dismiss her, but then again I did just converse with some talking balloon boxers and a walking pastry. Perhaps such a thing is possible here. I made my way to her, as she motioned me down the stairs to a small basement apartment. In the parlor was a small round table with a padded stool and a large overstuffed armchair. The place smelled of lilac and lavender and smoke. She asked me to sit upon the stool, then crossed to the chair. On her way, she passed her hand over a trio of stubby candles which all caught flame. I suppose I jumped a bit as she said "Don't worry, I'll only use just a bit of magic and the watch won't know." She brought out a deck of large painted cards in a glass cheese dish, which she shuffled across the table and gathered. I was presented with a purple-tinted crystalline dice with rose-shaped pips, and rolled a one. The lady silently flicked a finger above the cards and the first three rose and floated onto the table in a row between us. If this was not real magic in this place, it was a very well-done trick. The leftmost card she touched and told me it was the context of my situation, something about my past. She flipped it and said it was of the deck of knowledge and sorcery, an illusionist. She told me it shows lies and deceit, and at some point I was lied to, or had something hidden from me, and it was playing a part in this moment. The second card, as she flipped it, would be some clue about my present state. It was of the deck of spirits and priests, an anarchist. This is a portent of a substantial shift, and by design or chance my actions would reshape the world around me. The last card, she said, was the future which ties the trio together. As she flipped it she crossed the card twice, saying it was of the deck of powers, the beast. I asked whether it could be about this Rak creature I had on my poster, but she said only if it is coincidental, as these cards were for me and not it. This represents something great and terrible lurking just out of notice, perhaps a sign of untapped potential, and is a powerful omen influencing the whole reading: the lie was greater or more sinister, and the shift I am in the process of making spreads farther. I asked her if she could tell me more but she declined, saying that the cards would not be ready so soon, and that in any case I should need to be about this important business of mine. I paid the lady, and she handed me her card: The Wakeful Madam Orphilia Zound." She asked that I remember to return should I decide I truly require the counsel of the spirits once again. {T+0010}
•  (next, seeking dinner, rest, and a room)