Play@YSDC

Pierre accompanies Laurent towards the Hounfor quarter. 'What are you expecting to find out from this Ramses?' asks Pierre as they walk through the main strip, past shops being secured with wooden shutters and iron fronts, closing up for the evening. A handful of bars and cafes remain open, with a few customers sitting outside drinking or taking a light meal. The air takes on a light chill, the wind gusting up from the beach and diluting the usual smell of rotting rubbish and animal faeces. What had started as a faint sound becomes louder, the repetitive rhythm of beating drums, and the single note piping of bamboo vaccine horns and metal kone trumpets. It's like the ceremony to Agoué but not the same. The music has a lighter less mournful quality, but is just as hypnotic.

Arriving at the big open-air marketplace under the banana thatch roof, it is lit with lamps and candles. Dancers weave in and out of the crowd and a Rara band plays at the centre. Along with the drums and horns there are handbells, whistles, the scraping of graj graters, and occasional whoops and hollers from the crowd. The band begins to set off from the marketplace in a sinuous, winding procession. Laurent is very familiar with the traditional Rara processions that take place during Lent. Roaming the streets and performing ceremonies to the loa, and blessings to those they meet. The gede are particularly important and often possess a houngan or mambo.

"He may be able to help stop what's happening with Marise and the others who have gone swimming," says Laurent. "Dr. Clermont described it as a kind of spiritual sickness."

Shaking his head, Pierre gestures at the procession, 'You think this is Vodou? You think Marise is being spelled by some bocor?' He laughs grimly and points to something hanging from a cord around his neck. It is a a small cloth bag, a gris-gris charm. 'I won't dismiss our religion' he says, 'But really, Vodou?'

"It's worth a try," says Laurent. "I don't have any better ideas, but if you do, I'm willing to listen to them."

'I don't want to stop you talking to Ramses, but, you know, don't upset him alright?' Pierre shrugs, 'As for other ideas, what about that boyfriend Eddie, you said you thought they'd broken up, maybe they had a fight?'

"I'd forgotten about that," says Laurent. "It is a good idea to talk to Eddie. We can get more information from him. But I don't think Eddie is going to resolve this in the end."

Leaving the rara procession behind them, Pierre and Laurent walk deeper into the Hounfor district, the sound of the music fading behind them. The road narrows and the houses begin to crowd in around them. The fading sunlight casting long shadows. The road twists and turns as they go deeper into the heart of the district.

They find themselves in front of a tall but poorly maintained wood panel fence, through the gaps in the sagging panels they see a large mapou tree standing in a large yard. Beyond that is a surprisingly large house with a zinc-roofed peristyle in the hounfor style.

Laurent leads the way to the house's front door.

Skirting the battered fencing, eventually Laurent and Pierre find a gate swinging lazily in the light evening breeze leading up to the front of the house. A small set of steps run up to a porch with two brightly painted red doors. He's about to enter the yard and walk up to the front door when a figure darts out from the bushes at the side of the porch and sprints up the steps. He knocks on the front door which half opens and he steps inside. The door closing behind him. Shortly after the sound of drumming comes from within and women's voices intoning a chant.

OOC:   Wanna give me a roll to see if Laurent recognises who it is?

Laurent isn't sure who the man is. He goes up to the door to also knock on it.

Roll to recognize the man (human die only):
1d6

Once the door is closed behind him, Laurent realises that the man looked very much like Ti-Jean Lazaire, the chef from the Azagon. He walks up to the door and knocks. After about a minute the door half opens and a middle aged woman peers out, 'Oui?'

"We've come to see the houngan," says Laurent. "We need his help."

She looks Laurent and Pierre up and down and sucks her teeth. 'We have seremoni going on. You come back later'

You can try and persuade her to let you in, maybe that needs a roll.

"We'd like to be part of the seremoni," says Laurent. "Like Ti-Jean Lazaire, who just entered. I know him."

Roll (human die) to convince the woman to let us inside:
1d6

At the mention of Ti-Jean's name she gives a big toothy smile and opens the door wider. 'Ah, M'sié Lazaire, any friends of his are friends of mine. Come in, come in.'

They pass through a narrow corridor hung with strips of coloured cloth, sacking, painted shells, and the skulls of birds and rodents. The air is filled with smoke, both the smoke of burning fires and the smoke of incense. They pass several rooms which lead off from the corridor, Laurent briefly glances a tiled pool of water in one room, and in another what appears to be a cross made of tin riveted to the wall and painted black.



At the end of the corridor is a large room with an earthen floor, unlike the wooden floorboards in the rest of the house. It is brightly painted and the ceiling is much higher than the rest of the building - the hounfor peristyle, the heart of the Vodou temple. A fug of smoke hangs in the roof space and a number of black candles and incense sticks are burning around the room. Brightly painted posts hold up the roof and there is a large central pole around which several men are sitting, playing the big tanbou drums. A number of women are dancing and chanting, 'Agoué, O Agoué Woyo. Li sorti nan mer la. Canon ii chargé Canon ii chargé' pou tire.'

Into the clearing in the centre of the room step two men. One is Ti-Jean Lazaire only he's not dressed in his chef's outfit anymore, but in a loose white linen shirt and bright blue cotton trousers. He's joined by another man, older, dressed in a khaki suit. The older man starts to trace a shape on the dirt floor with what looks like white paint. The vevé, the symbol of Agoué. Ti-Jean leads the others in the chanting, Laurent hears the names of Badessey, Erzulie Fréda, Lasirenn, as well as Agoué in the otherwise indiscernible words.



Ti-Jean stirs up the revellers to a frenzy and the vevé disappears under their dancing feet.

They are chanting about Agoué coming from the sea with his cannons loaded and ready to fire - it relates to the belief that Agoué brings the thunder over the sea.

What is Laurent doing, is he joining in, watching from the side-lines, hiding, sneaking about the building while everyone else is distracted?

Laurent participates in the ceremony, getting caught up in the moment.

Laurent finds the beating of the drum and the rhythmic dancing quite hypnotic and he loses himself in the moment. Surrounded by a sea of writhing and pounding bodies his mind almost feels dissociated from his body as if he is floating above the scene. He can see Pierre dancing as well, disappearing in and out of the stream of people that merges together, individuals flowing into one another like the sea.

Meanwhile, with the vevé trampled and invisible, the older man starts shouting, the dancers step back from him to give him room. Whatever he is saying, Laurent can't understand it, it's a language completely alien to him, it doesn't sound like French or even English or German. Then he switches back to Creole and says 'Mwen Moise! I bring you greetings from the old days,' before returning to his unintelligible shouting. As far as Laurent can make out the man is claiming to be Moses, presumably possessed by the spirit of Moses as the houngans are possessed by other loa.

Then Lazaire shambles into the clearing. He's all crouched down, waving his arms above his head, his face transformed, twisted, he looks like some kind of ape ready to spring and attack. There's a scream from the crowd and they back right away from Lazaire towards the walls, some turn and run into the narrow corridor. Lazaire's head twists unnaturally to the side and his eyes fix on Laurent who is brought right out of his reverie.

Lazaire's face is like a living death's-head, his mouth writhing and eyes glittering with a hellish fire. There is only malice and hatred in those eyes. He snarls, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth onto the floor. Moving clumsily and erratically towards Laurent like some attacking crab, his arms above his head crooked and bent in impossible directions, his twisted body jerking from side to side on his crouching legs. It is at this moment that Laurent notices that one of those crab claws grips a butcher's knife with a blade at least ten inches long.

Insight roll please.

In sheer panic, Laurent grabs Pierre by the arm and flees.

Insight roll (current level 3) for seeing Lazaire:
1d6
Insight increases to 4.

The crowd have already started to throng the single exit. Laurent and Pierre join the press but the bent form of Lazaire scuttles across the room towards them and the crowd parts. Lazaire's crouching shape stands between them and the door.

Lazaire glowers at Laurent with his pale, drawn face. Then all at once he's not a monster anymore, just the same middle-aged man from the Azagon. With the same ordinary face. Still brandishing the the butcher's knife though. That hadn't changed.

'M'sié, no, what are you doing?' shouts Pierre. His voice is high and quavering.

There is no response from Lazaire and -click- the nightmare form is there again. Like a special-effects trick, Laurent saw once in an American movie on a very rare trip to St Joe City. And -click- back again. Man into monster -click- monster into man -click- man into monster again. But this was no special-effect, not a trick, at least, not that kind. The metamorphosis looked real.

Laurent watches the thing flick from nightmare to reality every few seconds as it lumbers towards him and Pierre. He's surprised how calm Pierre seems, his hands out in front of him in a placatory manner. 'M'sie, calm down, put the knife down.'

"It's me, Ti-Jean," says Laurent. "I'm Laurent Toussaint. We spoke earlier, remember?" He looks around to see if the houngan is still present, thinking that he is the best qualified to do something about the loa that has clearly taken control of the chef.

There is no response from Lazaire, who continues to flick back and forth between his normal and unnatural forms. He shows no sign of recognition and continues to make his way side-ways, crab-like, towards Laurent and Pierre, waving the knife above his head and fixating Laurent with his glittering eyes.

Behind Lazaire, by the door, now that most of the attendees have fled, Laurent can see the older houngan, he's staring blankly into the middle distance and seems to be mumbling to himself.

"A bad loa's riding him!" Laurent tells the houngan. "Can you do something to get it out of him?"

The houngan doesn't seem to be aware of Laurent, he's still gabbling away in that unrecognisable language.

I suggest a roll for bringing the houngan round. I'm not sure that's even a human die so you'll need to risk your Insight. And I'll roll to oppose you since I think it'd be interesting to know what would happen if you failed. ppLHLL1d6

Laurent concentrates on trying to bring the houngan back to reality, even as he loses his own grip on it.

Insight roll to bring the houngan around:
1d6

Laurent fixes his gaze firmly on the houngan, and focuses his mind and his will on catching and holding his attention. 'M'sie, you've got to shake off Moses and attend to M'sie Lazaire. There's a bad loa riding him, and you have to stop it.'

The houngan lazily turns his head towards Laurent and just catches his eyes. For a moment Laurent feels something, a connection, an understanding, something deeper, but before his mind can settle on it, put it into words it is gone. But the houngan's face firms up, sharpens, his eyes narrow. 'I hear you ti gason. Auxian is back.'

He circles the crouched, crab-like form of Lazaire warily. 'And who do we have here, noble mystère? One of the gèdés perhaps?' Lazaire's gaze, previously fixed on Laurent flicks back to the houngan at those words. The houngan seems to find this confirmation, 'Ah, a gèdé, we are indeed honoured.' Again -click- Lazaire is the monster again, his death's-head mouth widens into a leer, the split across the face seems to be all teeth. All huge white teeth, through which a river of spittle and froth pours. The houngan has his hands out in front of him in a placatory fashion. 'If we have offended you I can only apologise noble gèdé,' He glances at Laurent and Pierre, his look is pointed, like he knows they've done something to offend the loa.

In that moment, when the houngan takes his eyes off Lazaire, the creature leaps at him, swinging the knife down so swiftly that the houngan barely has time to react, noticing the attack just in time and jerking back so that the blade slices past his eyes barely an inch away and snags his khaki jacket, rending a jagged tear.

The houngan staggers backwards, he points to the central pole of the peristyle, about the base it is scattered with various offerings that have been overturned and trampled by the fleeing crowd. 'The pyè-tonnè, get the thunderstone.' Laurent is nearest to the pole and he can see a large tapered stone, smooth and covered in oil, a thunderstone. In school they'd told him that thunderstones were hand-axes made by the original Indian inhabitants before the Europeans and Africans came to St Joe but he wasn't sure he believed that.

Laurent scrambles for the thunderstone to grab it.

Laurent grasps the thunderstone firmly, it's base sitting in the palm of his hand. Tapered end poking out between the fingers and palm. The oily surface glistening. There's something familiar about that feeling, like he's always known how to hold the thunderstone, some unconscious racial memory spanning back generations and generations. He holds up the stone to look at it in the flickering light but the houngan shouts, 'Don't just admire it - hit him with the pyè-tonnè!'

Laurent tries to strike Lazaire with the thunderstone, relying on that seeming ancestral memory, hoping to just knock him out rather than kill him.

At the sound of the houngans voice, perhaps understanding his words, the contorted form of Lazaire thrusts the knife out in front of him like a sword and lunges towards Laurent, the blade passing between his left arm and his body, slashing his shirt before Laurent can twist away. At this moment, he uses his momentum to drive the tip of thunderstone down onto the back of Lazaire's skull with a sickening crunch that he can both feel and hear.

OOC:   Why don't you give me a roll to see how he does, in particular whether he can knock Lazaire out without killing him. I won't oppose it I'm just wondering how successful you are. I guess that'd be one human die since anyone can whack someone with a stone, you may or may not want to use an Insight die.

Laurent is able to knock out Lazaire without doing any permanent damage.

Roll (human die) to knock out Lazaire rather than kill him:
1d6

As Laurent lands his blow on the back of Lazaire's head a shriek of surprise and pain resonates from the creature's slobbering mouth. At that moment Laurent feels something in his hand, the second the blow connects, like an electric shock that passes up his arm and into his head. For a second he loses his bearings, everything around him seems distant, fuzzy. He can't make out the hounfor anymore. He's somewhere else. Somewhere dark, marshy, a low mist rolls past him at knee height. Looking up the sky is black, no stars, no moon, nothing but blackness. But a few metres ahead of him is the creature. No longer in the form of a man, redolent of the shapes that Lazaire had contorted into but freed from the confines of a human body. Laurent can't really make out what he's looking at, is it a crab with elongated arms, an orangutan with pincers for hands, whatever it is it glowers at him with hatred from that pale and waxy face, and through spittle frothed teeth hisses, 'Mwen Gèdé Cinq Jours Malheur. Mwen Gèdé Cinq Jours Malheur. Ma touyé ou! I am the Gèdé of the Five Days of Misfortune. I am going to kill you!'

Then he's back in the room, in front of Laurent the creature sinks onto it's knees, pawing at the fallen knife for a few seconds, then slides down onto the floor. The face loses it's death's-head look, but slowly this time. It takes a full minute but the man becomes Ti-Jean Lazaire again, the man they had talked to earlier at the Azagon, the cook. Lying there peacefully, without any expression. Like he's asleep.

OOC:   Sorry, another Insight roll for that experience.

Laurent shakes off the vision's effects and tells Auxian about it. "I saw the Gèdé in a dark swamp!" he says. "It said it's the Gèdé of the Five Days of Misfortune, and that it's going to kill me!"

Insight roll (current level 4):
1d6

The houngan shakes his head. 'You know the gèdés are the mystères of death, ti gason.'

'He of the Five Days Misfortune is especially malevolent, people say. What have you done to offend him?'

"Well, I did just smack him over the head with a thunderstone," says Laurent.

Laughing a deep belly laugh, the houngan leans on a pillar to support himself. He wipes his eyes. 'That you did ti gason, that you did.'

'We don't see Gèdé Cinq Jours very often. But he holds a grudge that one. I agree, he won't be happy you hit him with the thunderstone, but it's more than that. Something must have summoned him. He's angry.'

The houngan shakes his head. 'The loa are restless, ti gason. Something is not right in Dame Marie.'

"There is a lot going on around here, and it's bad," says Laurent. "That's why we came here, to seek your help." He explains what they've found so far in their investigation.

The houngan introduces himself, he is indeed Auxian Ramses. Before he continues the conversation with Laurent and Pierre he checks on Lazaire. 'He's going to be alright. I'm glad, Ti-Jean is a good man, he has a big heart.'

Once he's satisfied that the unconscious man is just sleeping, he continues, 'Ti-Jean came to me a few days ago. He said that there was something going on at the Hotel, where the white people go with their drinking and their drugs. He was worried about some of the guests there, he thought they were sick, spiritually sick. I agreed help him make some prayers to Agoué, that's what we were doing today and yesterday. Ti-Jean said "Tout moun se moun, even the Americans deserve to be treated as men."

'I thought it was just the white men, but you're saying the Lavigne girl is tied up in all this as well? Mete absè sou klou, it goes from bad to worse. From what you say, it seems like the loa are unhappy, something is making them angry. You know what they say, "Lè w manje lajan Chango, fò w peye Chango," we have taken from Agoué, and if he is unhappy we owe it to him to make it right. If something is going on out in the bay, well, maybe Agoué is angry, or maybe something is happening in Agoué's domain and he doesn't like it. And that hotel, named after Azagon like that doesn't mean something! There's something going on there to be sure. I just don't know what it is. But the gèdé don't like it.'

He furrows his brow. 'And it is Easter of course. La Souvenance, the remembrance, it is coming.'

"I'm Laurent Toussaint," says Laurent, "and this is my friend Pierre Lavigne, Marise's brother. How can we stop the problem? Can you talk to Agoué and ask him why he's upset?"

'Bonswa, Laurent and Pierre. I am sorry to hear about your sister's troubles, ' he says to Pierre with a grave face. 'But one does not simply "talk" to Agoué. If you are lucky he will mount your body - drive out your gros bon ange - and speak through you for a time.' He furrows his brow. 'I am too drained for that again today, and I must tend to Ti-Jean. Come back tomorrow and I will try for you. But the loa have their own agenda. They do not just appear for party tricks.'

"We'll have to do some service for him," says Laurent, nodding. "D'accord, we'll return tomorrow."

'Oui, tomorrow evening, the same time as today. Get some sleep m'sie, you will need it.'

OOC:   Any more plans for the night or is Laurent going home to bed?