Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong: 1886 CE

Early morning sunshine beams down on a high-fenced lot filled with a wide assortment of items, practically all of which are shabby, broken, or both.  Visible are a wooden rickshaw with a splintered axle (one wheel broken, the other missing), rolls of cheap and slightly rusty wire fencing, various stacks of mismatched lumber, and a large faded signboard with a picture of an elephant.  Barrels and tubs under awnings extending down off the fences hold smaller domestic castoffs, hardware and variously flawed hand tools, and other marginally reusable scrap.

Foot traffic and carts are already going past on the dirt street outside the fence, headed west toward the main docks where the foreign merchant ships and the more affluent locals are berthed, and farther east toward the open sea.  Across the road is a short pier extending out into a little inlet from Kowloon Bay, where small two-man boats are tied or chained.  The smells of brine, fish and shoreline rot, and less pleasant material dumped into the water is noticeable, but there's enough of a breeze that they aren't overpowering.

Against the front fence stands a shed with a sign bearing both Chinese and English characters, reading BUSINESS OFFICE, and a similarly bilingual sign hanging from a frame over the entry gate reads:

SALVAGE AND BARGAIN GOODS
SAI YUEN, PROPRIETOR

The sign starts to sway in a wind that kicks up seemingly from nowhere, blowing against the sea breezes.  In a mostly-vacant corner of the yard, several stacked planks that are propped up at an angle against the fence topple and clatter to the ground, as they are they displaced by the arrival of a tall blue box that slowly solidifies from nowhere.

VWORP

VWORP

KCHUNK!

'A scrap yard!' Smoke Alarm exclaimed, skipping out of the opening door of the talkiphone box and outlooking over the sincerely interesting lost-and-found and recyclings. 'Icehot!'

After first making sure none of the scrapheaps were in fact active funerary scrapheaps, the Blue Kang footed right in and started to rummage and riffle and ransack, on the outlook for interesting and use-full knackknicks. Strangely, it was mostly woody stuff, which Kangs 'wared as being unnatural and hazardously splintery, unlike the totally normal plastic and metal they'd grown up familiar with. And she wasn't liking the pong. Still, there was much a Kang could use for arrows, tools, or bling. She raised up the big sign, calling to her friends 'Outlook, a heffalump!'

In deference to past fabshion, or at least Traveller's and Stanley's recommendations they outlook the part and not draw too much attention, Smoke Alarm had adopted some contemporary Western clothes. She'd selected black pants, a blue shirt, and a blue-and-black waistcoat, before scruffying it up some and tying on blue rags, together with her usual aluminium bling and dog-fang necklace, and topping it with a floppy blue hat with her blue-black hair braided and tucked under. She had all the makings of a first-class navvy, and would probably be taken for an eccentric labourer, and for a lad.

"Smoke Alarm, it isn't *your* scrap yard. Be nice."

She comes out wearing some traditional chinese fashion for the period, looking like a female scholar, but with a little American flag pin. This was an old outfit that was a present from Dr Wong Fei Hong. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wong_Fei-hung). It was literally centuries ago for her when she saw him. She should look Uncle up. (OOC - Thank goodness for Major Friends). Fong was down in Foshan. She remembers fondly how Dr Fong joined her and Gooseberry chasing a 53rd century criminal, and how he kept on threatening Gooseberry with a pot while the bird squawked back, "racism!"

As everyone exits and she locks the TARDIS door, she asks, "Sairen.  Where can we find Lady Kismet?"

She's changed, but Hong Kong has not.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:22, Mon 16 Oct 2017.

Stanley exits the TARDIS and looks around at where they have landed. Probably not the most touristic view in 19th century Hong Kong, but it looks like a good place to keep the TARDIS out of sight. Looking at the sign hanging from the gate, he wonders if Sai Yuen is inside his shed/office. What would he  think of five strangers suddenly showing up on his property, one of whom is way too enthusiastic about the collection of broken stuff.

Sairen looks around, licks a finger and holds it in the air for a moment.

"In this time zone, I believe she has her local offices in the main mercantile district, just south of the harbor," he says, "which, I dare to conclude, this is not."

There's a clattering noise from outside the gate, and a small boy of ten or twelve pushes it open, hauling a small wheelbarrow loaded with bric-a-brac.  He does a double-take when he sees the travelers taking in the scrapyard.  "Papa!  Strangers!" he shouts.

His call is followed up in moments by the arrival of a stocky man in his middle years, bursting through the gate with an upraised cudgel.  He too is taken aback by the people he finds in his place of business.  "Oh.  They are British, Zhu, or most of them; you might have said so."  He lowers the club, though he still holds it warily.  After he takes a moment to size up his visitors, he fixes his attention on Stanley.  Giving a bow of greeting -- more of a nod, really, he adds, "Your pardon.  Is there something I can do for you and your..."  He almost palpably tries and rejects a couple of likely words to continue the question.  "...Group?"

'I'm just outlooking.' Smoke Alarm had whined to Traveller, whilst clambering over the rickshaw like a monkey. It suddenly seesawed on its axle, tossing the Kang off. 'Whup!'

She spun around to eyespy the visitors – in fact, they were the residents and she one of the visitors. 'How you do!' she greeted brightly; she skipped the full ritual, as it did tend to confuse and bemuse people.

Stanley clears his throat. He is used to people addressing Trav first.  "Actually, we were trying to get to the...uh...mercantile district. It should be south of the harbour? It would be a great help if you could give us directions."

He has literally repeated what Sairen just told them. It is the truth, but it doesn't explain why they are here. It is not unreasonable for Sai Yuen to find this whole situation a bit suspicious and upon inspecting his property discover the TARDIS.

"Oh and there is this large blue box we would like to store here. Only temporarily, we'll probably come back at the end of the day. Is that possible?"

Bluetrav comes around the corner. "Uncle, we're sorry for having my old family heirloom carted here." Her hand is over her fist in the classic shao-lin salute, and she bows. "We are here in Hong Kong visiting relatives. I was hoping that I could leave my box here, with you, in exchange for appropriate renumeration. And I am American, from San Francisco. Uncle, not British, although my good comrade the Doctor Newton here is. If you need a reference, my uncle Dr Hong in Foshan is a good one." The body language and particular dialect of Canton she is using is polite, deferential. Her dialect does sound like that of a 2nd or 3rd generation San Franciscan.

And she did leave the TARDIS locked down so that it can't be moved. While her time machine being carried off in an ox drawn cart would be amusing, it'd also be inconvenient.

OOC: ready to spend an SP for Major Friends. Presence+Convince roll to make nice with Uncle here?
This message was last edited by the player at 20:06, Tue 17 Oct 2017.

"I can certainly steer you to the correct neighborhood.  Though I am afraid I do not have much call to do business in those districts myself, so my directions may tend toward the approximate."

Sai Yuen has not overlooked the TARDIS, and he approaches it curiously, even as all his sidelong looks at his own merchandise suggest strongly to Smoke Alarm that he knows full well the location and condition of most everything in his inventory.

"Well, yes, and a very attractive structure it is, to be sure.  But I can not help but wonder: even as much as I am a man who appreciates the usefulness of a good stout shed to keep one's valuables out of the elements, isn't it a trifle inconvenient to go carrying it around with you?"

Following him in from the street are three more children, two girls and a boy, none any bigger than Zhu, and together they're gamely attempting to wrestle an even larger barrow piled with junk into the yard.

Sai Yuen nods along with Trav as she describes her ersatz background.  "Yes, San Francisco!  My mother's brother, Wen, settled there, after he went over seas to work on the railroad...."

He frowns in thought, with the air of someone who has inadvertently bypassed a crucial point in the conversation.

OOC: Sure, you can make that roll, Trav.

"Uncle, it's all that remains of my home, which I lost in a terrible war. My ancestors, my memories, my beloved friends and family - it's a shrine, a house for beloved ghosts. It's all I have left. I must honor my lost loved ones by keeping it, and it keeping me. As such, it's not for sale, if anyone were to inquire."

Trav has lived in San Francisco (her base of operations when she had her first face, before she became heavily involved with UNIT) and Emperor Norton did adopt her as his niece. So, she's not fibbing. Kinda.

Norton. Would Norton, that fine American, be able to forgive her? He never travelled with her, but he was the finest of companions and confidants.

She's telling the god's honest truth.

OOC: Spending an SP because I really want to be cool with Uncle. Dammit why did I give up Charming.
00:09, Today: The Traveller rolled 21 using 4d6+5 ((4,5,3,4)). Down to 5 SP.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:09, Wed 18 Oct 2017.

'And Us. It's a home-sweet-home for Us too.' Smoke Alarm chipped in helpfully after Traveller got talky with her uncle. Was he really her uncle, one of her Inbetweens? He didn't seem to know her, clearly thinking she was a visitor, but then, she had just swapped her face. That was bound be confuzzling.

Eyespying the children pushing in the wheelbarrow full of junk, and figuring it outlooked like fun, Smoke Alarm skipped over. 'Can I help?' She got behind it and began to push, but the barrow was going four ways at once...

Afterwards, when all the junk was out, one or another, she'd give the kids wheelbarrow rides. They were just like trolley rides, only somewhat safer.

"Dear lady, you may certainly leave your cabinet in my care," Sai Yuen assures the Traveller.  "I shall certainly impress upon all of my worthy children that it is not to be sold, traded, ill-used or climbed upon disrespectfully,  Zhu!"  The boy, who is parking his own cargo in a section of the yard that has a little more space for distributing its contents, abruptly lets go of it and runs over next to his father to come to a sloppy sort of attention.  "You are excused from your morning's chores to guide these poor wayward souls to their destination."

Having someone to guide them to the right place is better than getting directions. Sure, finding the mercantile district probably wouldn't be terribly hard even with only approximate direction, but Stanley appreciates the gesture.  "Thank you."

The boy smiles hugely at the strangers.  "Where do you need to go?"

Sairen stoops down to eye level with Zhu.  "The place we want is off Queen's Road, west of the Central Market.  Is that enough to go on?"

"Sure!"  Zhu beams.  He vanishes into the "office" briefly and comes out wearing a flat cap and a battered canvas satchel.  Leading the way into the street, Zhu hangs a left and sets off.

The streets are already starting to fill up with pedestrians, carts hauled by donkeys or pushed by peddlers, streetside vendors hawking food and other wares.  The farther west they travel, the more European faces are seen, and the heavier (and more prosperous) the traffic seems to become.  Here and there they start to see buildings plainly put up in the British style.  Meanwhile, on their right there is a clearer view of the harbor with a remarkable assortment of vessels -- again a mix of Western merchantmen, small local boats and larger Eastern junks.

Zhu seems to have a limitless store of energy: as they make their way he continuously weaves back and forth across the road to point out this or that local landmark.  He's also hard to shut up.  "Why'd you all come to the island?  What'cha going to do in the city?  Do all Americans look like you or do some look British too?"

'S'okay,' Smoke Alarm chipped in cheerily, mostly to the children, and with a mischievous wink 'I climb up on it all the time. But respeckfully.'

Thereafter, she scooted and zagzigged along after the team, following Zhu to outlook at every landmark that caught his interest, and a few more that caught hers. 'Outlook, horsey-bikes!' she said, pointing to what were plainly donkeys. This was a city with towers like she had much knowhow of, but it was all different and old, unlike Paradise Towers and Arsuran and others, not all shiny and made of metal and glass and plastick, but of wood and stone and bamboo. There was a great hustly-and-bustly crowd to slip through or hop-skip-jump over, and it was all so cluttered and full there were so many ways to go and she fancied a Kang could foot all across the city and never touch the ground.

Stanley decides to answer the first question. "We came here, because we have some business with someone who has an office here."

At length the group winds its way through to the middle of town, where the European influence and presence is at its most pronounced.  There are not a few British military officers to be seen moving about on errands, many more Western civilians, and even many of the locals seem to affect Western dress.

The architecture also shows how much of this area has been built from the ground up by the British.  Where there are some features with local character, like a sizable open-air market, the place is dominated by structures that Stanley wouldn't find out of place in photos or sketches or actual surviving buildings from the Victorian period back home.

Sairen points out a relatively modest example of the latter, a two-story structure.  "This is our stop."  A brass plate set in the wall at the top of the steps carries another bilingual sign, reading:

TRANS-ASIA
REGIONAL
OPPORTUNITY
TRUST

"Americans look like all sorts of different things. America is a bright and bustling and sad and angry land with a lot of history. It's a shining dream and a nightmare. It's my home."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:40, Mon 23 Oct 2017.

Stanley reads the sign and nods. "Yeah, this certainly looks like the right place. Zhu, thank you for guiding us to the right district."

Smoke Alarm had loitered in the market to outlook at a man doing tricks: he broke bits of wood, or had bits of wood broken over him, and even pushed his neck against a pointy pokey spear without doing himself an injury. She rememorised Sando at the Habisphere or Pex and his show-and-tells of breaking things in Paradise Towers. This one did it all through the use of a "key" but Smoke Alarm didn't eyespy one, or a lock. (The word on his lips had been "ch'i", but Traveller's anime collection gave the TARDIS translator more of a Japanese inflection).

Arriving at the office, she outlooked up and read the sign. She wasn't sure she understood any of those words, and certainly not how they all went together. 'They spelled "trains" wrong.' she said with the authority of one who'd only just learned to spell it herself. 'Are you sure this is the right place? It outlooks yawny.'
This message was last edited by the player at 07:16, Sat 28 Oct 2017.

"Ms. Kismet probably doesn't want to attract any unwanted attention and a boring building like this is perfect for that. But who knows what we will find inside?"