Kingsport 1844: The Knotted Iron

1) The Sign of the Knotted Iron
205 Whipple Street, Inner Harbor. Est. 1819

A) Whipple Street by Pumpkinlight
Set into a dark corner where Whipple Street meets Ship Street, the Knotted Iron is Kingsport’s only tavern that caters specifically to whalemen. Although it’s certainly patronized by fishermen and merchant sailors, half its regular patrons are whalemen, whether native to Kingsport or traveling between ports. From the outside it looks fairly unassuming, the sign bearing a painting of a harpoon bent into a corkscrew. The windows are heavily glazed, and at this time of year, illuminated by jack-o-lanterns carved into the likenesses of pirates, mermaids, and scowling sea captains. The candles burning inside these pumpkins cast a welcome orange glow through the thick windows, and a few pumpkins light the outside doorstep. More often than not music is heard from within, a sailor’s hornpipe on the squeezebox, a rousing chorus of “Liverpool Judies,” or a forecastle bitter lifted by an Irish tenor. It being Halloween, a straw witch hangs above the tavern door: Old Mother Cawches, wearing her plague mask and flying on her broom. A local legend used to scare naughty children—“Old Mother Cawches is coming to eat your eyeballs!”—the witch clutches a brown jug labeled “Roland’s Best XXX.”

B) Personalities
The Knotted Iron is owned by Roland Hall, an old harpooneer who served onboard the Anna in his youth.

Roland Hall
Age 54, Nationality: American, Birthplace: Kingsport 1790.

Combat

Skills
Accounting 70%, Appraise 50%, Art/Craft (Carpentry) 25%, Art/Craft (Fiddle) 70%, Art/Craft (Pumpkin Carving) 85%, Charm 40%, Credit Rating 55%, Cthulhu Mythos 5%, Fast Talk 70%, First Aid 40%, History 60%, Intimidate 35%, Kingsport Cult 10%, Law 25%, Leadership 55%, Listen 75%, Natural World 40%, Occult 10%, Persuade 70%, Psychology 50%, Religion (Congregationalist) 40%, Renown 40%, Seamanship 70%, Sea Lore 80%, Spot Hidden 55%, Whalecraft 65%.

Description
A descendent of Mayor Eben Hall, Roland’s patrician features have been broken and whittled down by the sea, and he now has a look women sometimes describe as “ruggedly handsome”—tousled sandy hair, a conspicuously broken nose, and a mischievous glint in his eye. He favors a sailor’s cap and cable-knit sweaters, and wears a striking wedding band made from Marsh gold.

Roland is usually found holding court from his position by the fireplace, carving a new pumpkin for his windows and swapping sea stories. His wife Sarah Randall Hall is a kind, maternal woman from Innsmouth who specializes in chowders, crab cakes, and stews. She dotes on sailors of all stripes, especially the young ones, whom she fusses over like a mother hen. The couple are assisted by their developmentally-disabled daughter Jane Hall, who tends the rooms upstairs and keeps the floors tidy. The Knotted Iron’s most popular bartender is a 32-year old Irishman named Paul Joyce. A fisherman who lost his left eye on a Kingsport trawler, his handsome face now sports a black eyepatch. Roland and Sarah’s adult son Robert Hall, a bronzesmith who lives in the Hollow, supports his parents’ establishment by providing handsomely-carved plaques for the tavern’s walls.

C) Ground Floor: The Bar-Room
There are only four rooms on the ground floor of the Knotted Iron­—a small kitchen and pantry, a commode, a storage room, and the common room, which occupies most of the floor. A rectangular area with a bar dividing it from the kitchen, the common room contains several tables and an opposing pair of fireplaces.

The bar is ancient; scored wood with a copper-fastened top, its edges lined in whalebone and its surface scrawled with sailor’s graffiti. The standard drinking fare is Arkham Ale, Innsmouth Stout, grog, and cheap Jamaican rum; though occasionally port and various wines are available, usually noted on a chalkboard adjacent a grimy painting of Kingsport Harbor. Drinking vessels come in three varieties­—a tin cup for spirits, a leather-wrapped glass for beer, or the “lanthorn,” a large drinking vessel fashioned to resemble a ship’s lantern. Costing a full 25¢, this lanthorn is filled with beer and is usually the focus of a drinking contest. A jar of deviled eggs is kept well-stocked by Sarah. It currently sports a label declaring “Eyeballs for Old Mother Cawches” in creepy Halloween lettering. When available, fruits are suspended above the bar in nets. Priced a penny each, sailors are expected to pluck a fruit and toss a copper into the upturned bell that serves as a till. A popular drinking game/bar challenge involves tossing pennies into the inverted bell from the opposite side of the room. (Hey Keepers! A fun use of the Throw roll!) Backgammon and checkers (known as “draughts”) are also popular, and sometimes sailors make use of Roland’s “French” chess set, acquired in New Orleans and modeled on Napoleon’s conquest of Egypt. Posted on the wall near the door is a broadside advertising “Jonah’s Amazing Whaling Panorama,” showing nightly at Pickering Hall. (Handout: Panorama Broadside. See Encounter 25 for details.)

With its over-the-top nautical theme, the common room is a veritable museum of whaling oddities. A rack between the front windows holds several impressive pieces of scrimshaw, and an unlit spermaceti candle is mounted by the door, said to be a product of the Anna’s first voyage. Projecting from the wall above the commode are a collection of sperm whale teeth, and whalers compete to bring Roland even bigger examples. A favorite curio hangs above the mantle of the south fireplace­—a prosthetic ivory arm, found in the belly of a whale taken off the coast of Madagascar, and engraved with Chinese characters. (A Spot Hidden reveals that the ivory hand has six fingers!) Above the arm is a smoke-begrimed painting of the Anna lowering her boats, along with a dusty glass case containing her cracked compass, recovered from her fateful wreck off Ross Island in 1824. Many of Roland’s exhibits boast descriptions engraved on brass plaques: “This lance-head was lost inside the body of a Parmaceti in 1822, and recovered eight years later by the same crew.” “Scrimshander scene depicting the killing of the very whale upon whose tooth you now gaze.” “Brass name-plaque from the New Orleans yacht Orca, discovered in the belly of a shark near Amity Island,” and so on. But the tavern’s most remarkable feature is the so-called Whaling Wall above the north fireplace.

The Whaling Wall
The Whaling Wall is a collection of twelve twisted harpoons­, each bent like an iron pretzel from the gyrations of an enraged Leviathan. Each mangled iron is proudly labeled by a brass plaque: “Jeremiah Joab, Harpooneer on the Virgin. Parmaceti off the coast of Japan, 1820.” “Kent McNellie, Harpooneer on the Ventrue. Right Whale from the Kodiak Grounds, 1838,” and so on. The oldest one—“Jonathan Gardner, Chief Mate of the Anna. Parmaceti near Chile 1793”—started the tradition. Bent back and twisted like a serpent coiling around its own body, Gardner’s iron once hung in the Three Haddocks, a tavern owned by Roland’s uncle Oliver Hall, one of the founders of the Kingsport East India Marine Society (Encounter 13). When Roland established the Knotted Iron in 1819, he used the twisted harpoon as his main decoration; indeed, the whole tavern takes its name from the artifact, and the image on the sign out front is one and the same.

Since then, Kingsport whalemen recovering unusually savaged harpoons have brought them to Roland for appraisal; if they are accepted, the sailor need never pay for another drink. Those rejected­—and there are many­—are usually beaten back into shape and used again. Since harpoons can be precious commodities on lengthy voyages, some Kingsport captains forbid their over-eager harpooneers from preserving the misshapen trophies of their combat. Just as many captains, however, take the opposite stance, and feel that acceptance on the Whaling Wall is a source of pride for the entire ship.

The Curse of the Thirteenth Iron
An interesting legend has sprung up in the three years since the last iron was added to the collection—“Mr. Bulkington, Harpooneer on the Acushnet. Hump-Back Whale near the Marquesas Islands, 1841.” As the next iron will be the thirteenth, and since sailors are by nature superstitious, many are afraid to preserve their bent iron, anxious it will spell bad luck for the remainder of the voyage. So deep is this suspicion that more than a few old salts have begged Roland to add a bogus thirteenth iron; or at the very least, accept the very next harpoon submitted no matter its condition. Roland steadfastly refuses both options. A few sailors tell of fantastically twisted harpoons that were reluctantly hammered back into shape by whalemen fearing to invoke the “curse of the thirteenth iron.” The curse has gained renewed currency by a recent story originating from the Illsley whaleship Neil Pyrt, which sank off the coast of Greenland this spring. Survivors claim that Evan Orne, one of the harpooneers who perished in the disaster, had been saving an iron twisted into the shape of a cat’s-paw. And didn’t his brother Andrew Orne, the harbor pilot, just commit suicide…?

D) A Typical Night at the Knotted Iron
A typical night at the Knotted Iron hosts about two to three dozen sailors, at least half of them whalemen. During times when ships are ready to depart, these numbers increase; during lulls, when many ships are at sea, the tavern is populated by a fishermen drawn by the lure of the exotic décor.

The whalemen are respectful of their beloved haunt, and while they certainly get rowdy, they police themselves out of respect for the Halls. Music and dance break out frequently, the sailors trading songs with Paul Joyce, who has a lovely Irish tenor and knows “more songs that Solomon.” And once in a while­—but only when “the girls” are visiting Sarah’s family in Innsmouth—Roland opens the doors to ladies of easy leisure. These evenings are most favored of all, boisterous nights when the Knotted Iron is alive with rude song, drunken antics, and the raucous, shameless laughter of harlots and seamen.

What About Atypical Nights?
Occasionally the Knotted Iron sees a drunken punch-up. Usually such brawls are between besotted fishermen and whalers, but every so often a patron gets handsy with Jane. This is a very bad idea, and always results in the cad being pummeled senseless by regulars. Fist-fights also erupt over issues like rampant bragging, cheating at backgammon, or failing to purchase a round of drinks when it’s one’s turn. If the Keeper feels like spicing things up, a barroom brawl is a harmless way to blow off steam and run a low-stakes trial of combat mechanics.

E) Secrets and Scuttlebutt
The Knotted Iron is a perfect place to hear scuttlebutt, swap sea stories, and trade gossip about captains, agents, and officers. A particularly lively topic is the increasing “queerness” of Innsmouth and her sudden bounty of fish. There’s also talk of the Quiddity, which has developed a reputation as a cursed ship. Indeed, the blind old Preacher at the Mariner’s Bethel is readying a “hell of a sermon” for Thursday afternoon, believed to be aimed directly at Captain Joab himself (Encounter 3). “Jonah’s Amazing Whaling Panorama” is another hot topic of conversation, with the tars debating its artistic merits, accuracy, and “special effects” much the way modern drinkers might discuss a popular movie (Encounter 25).

Anyone spending time in the Knotted Iron is sure to hear about these three subjects. However, obtaining more esoteric rumors requires some effort to blend in. Every night a player character spends socializing in the Knotted Iron provides a chance to hear an additional rumor, according to this formula: Charm + 20% per drinking session = percentage roll. If the roll is successful, the character learns a random rumor selected from the Kingsport Rumor Table. Once entrusted with a rumor, a character may hear one additional rumor if he successfully makes a Fast Talk, Persuade, or Sea Lore roll. Obviously, the Keeper is encouraged to embellish these rumors, and to solicit colorful sea stories from the player characters in return.

The Tale-spinner
If the Keeper wants to inject a particular rumor into the game, or if the players keep striking out in the scuttlebutt department, the Keeper may call upon Kent McNellie to deliver the goods. A gossipy salt from Boston, McNellie lost his right arm in the jaws of Timor Tim, a ravenous sperm whale from the Indies, and now considers himself on “permanent shore leave.” Always one to pronounce a tall tale as the gospel truth, or drunkenly narrate a half-assed version of some obscure historical event, McNellie spends a lot of time in the Knotted Iron guzzling free pints earned by his contribution to the Whaling Wall. If the player characters are in danger of leaving Kingsport with no knowledge of the Kingsport Cult, the fate of Elijah Watts, or the notion that the Quiddity is a cursed ship, the Keeper should invest McNellie with the desire to spin a drunken yarn or two.

F) Upper Floors: Lodgings
The second and third floors of the Knotted Iron offer rooms for rent. While roughly furnished, they are nevertheless inexpensive, and when the scenario begins, there’s two rooms still available. When the port is busy, such as before a whaleship departs, the Halls book double occupancy, charging each sailor $1/night to share a bed. It’s likely that Redburn and Quakaloo will lodge at the Knotted Iron; if the Keeper wishes to recreate the opening scenes of Moby-Dick vis-à-vis Ishmael and Queequeg, this is the perfect opportunity! Dixon and Beckett may also retain rooms here, but Coffin, Lowell, Morgan, and Rachel have other arrangements.

Tending the rooms is the responsibility of Jane Hall, Sarah and Roland’s twenty-four-year old daughter. In the parlance of the nineteenth century, Jane is “feeble-minded” or “simple,” and her intellectual development is that of a girl half her age. None of the sailors dare point this out, and regulars frequently bring Jane small presents such as candy, scrimshaw trinkets, and costume jewelry. Jane is sweet and kind, but too trusting and naïve, and is prone to display her affection in shockingly open­—and easy to misinterpret­—ways.

G) Programmed Events
It is likely the player characters will spend a good deal of time carousing at the Knotted Iron, but there’s only two Programmed Events slated for this location. Additionally, many of the events described under “The Halloween Tempest” may occur elsewhere, as noted throughout the scenario.

October 27-29: Silas Grimble Fixates on Quakaloo
Unfortunately for Quakaloo, his tattoos attract the attention of a madman named Silas Grimble, the “Amazing Tattooed Man from China.” A lunatic experiencing the Call of Dagon, Grimble is attempting to stitch a sail made from human flesh, a contrivance he believes will carry him to the mysterious “Golden Altar” of his dreams. (See Silas Grimble’s NPC profile for his description and statistics, and Encounter 27 for details about his deranged project.) Upon first laying eyes on Quakaloo, Grimble believes that the harpooneer’s body contains tattoos essential for the completion of his project.

Drinks with Grimble
At first, Grimble seems friendly enough. He’ll buy Quakaloo a drink and eagerly compare tattoos, sharing his own story and inquiring after Quakaloo’s history. As conversation continues, Grimble’s questions become more outlandish—“You ever feel your tattoos squirming, like?” or, “Sometimes I dream about a place I need to be. Somewhere far across the waves, like a place I was born, but I don’t mean Macao. É difícil de explicar. I’d kill me own mum to get there. You sabbee?” At one point Grimble reveals an alphabet of imaginary letters tattooed on his left forearm—“This letter right ‘ere is called ‘blaggo,’ and it describes all the lies people tell ‘bout themselves and to others. You wouldn’t blaggo me, mate?” As his manner becomes more intense, a Psychology roll indicates that something is definitely off with Grimble, with a Hard success sounding an alarm bell. If Quakaloo becomes cagey or hostile, Grimble retreats apologetically and makes an abject exit. Otherwise Grimble eventually feigns having to “takee pissee” and never returns to finish his drink.

Grimble Stalks Quakaloo
Grimble will not attempt to drug or capture Quakaloo during this first meeting, but begins a furtive game of cat and mouse with the harpooneer. Over the next couple days, on occasions when Quakaloo is walking the streets of Kingsport, the Keeper should call for a Hard Spot Hidden roll. A success gives Quakaloo the impression that he’s being watched. This roll is purely for dramatic effect, designed to build tension and keep Quakaloo’s nerves on edge. (A critical success may bring a quick glimpse of Grimble, but allow the tattooed madman to escape.) When the Keeper is ready to escalate the situation, Grimble may strike with his poison blowpipe. See Silas Grimble’s NPC profile and Encounter 27 for details.

October 31: The Halloween Tempest
All Hallows’ Eve is marked by a tempest the likes of which hasn’t been seen since 1800 and won’t be seen again until 1888. The Knotted Iron remains open, as anxious sailors take refuge by pumpkinlight and drown their fears in beer and rum. This is a wonderful opportunity for the Keeper to establish a tense and spooky atmosphere, as the windows are lashed by the gale, shallops are driven up against the street, and strange non-regulars seek refuge in the tavern’s inviting warmth. Water flooding Whipple Street swirls under the door, causing patrons to block it however they can, failing until the tavern’s floor is awash under three inches of seawater, floating the lit pumpkins like bobbing lanterns. Soon the fireplaces grow dim, the storm sucking their life and howling down the chimneys. Lightning illuminates the tinderbox sky, thunder rolling across Kingsport like peals from Neptune’s own bell. It’s the perfect setting for ghost stories, lonesome fo’c’sle songs, or whispered tales of the Doxie (see Encounter 41).

Keepers wishing to take advantage of this atmosphere are welcome to include one of the following four Halloween Tempest Scenarios. They are listed in order of increasing dramatic impact and general “eldritch” character. As none of these encounters are essential to the overall plot of White Leviathan, they may be disregarded if the Keeper wishes a less supernatural tempest. The following events may also be relocated to the Diving Bell (Encounter 5) should the player characters prefer to spent Halloween night in the Cauldron. Other possible locations are suggested under each scenario. 

1. The Strange Visitor
The door flies open, admitting a mysterious stranger huddled in an oilskin coat, the gale raging behind him. He sidles to the bar and hoarsely demands rum. Is it the One from the Strange High House? Or the Terrible Captain? Or perhaps a figure from Kingsport’s past, such as Captain Mercer of the Anna, Captain Corben of the Hellene, Malachi Hogg, or even Argus Blaine? What stories will he tell, and how will he make his way back into the storm?

Keeper: This event can be modified for any public house, including the Diving Bell (Encounter 5), Black Joe’s Tavern (Encounter 12), or even the Starry Busk (Encounter 6).

2. Visions of Old Kingsport
The Keeper should select a player character prone to melancholy, dreams, or visions, and find a reason for him to be thrust into the storm. After wandering a block or two blinded by rain, the character suddenly finds his surroundings altered, as if he’s traveled back in time to colonial Kingsport, the tempest whipping through century-old alleyways, families huddled by candlelight behind panes of leaded glass. Perhaps even a glimpse of St. Michael’s Church, a line of hooded figures winding through the storm, their lanterns bobbing like drunken constellations; the whole scene vanishing as lighting strikes the steeple! This encounter requires a Sanity roll for a 0/1 loss.

Keeper: This event can happen anywhere in Kingsport, and has a special variation at the Starry Busk (Encounter 6).

3. Kingsport Gives Up Her Dead
As the storm rages and lightning flashes, something is seen in the harbor—ghostly figures trudging up from the deep! Nearly a hundred in number, these terrible apparitions are in various stages of decrepitude, from the recently-drowned Lawson Court to colonial sailors, now reduced to barnacle-encrusted skeletons. Gravesend convicts, flesh charred by fire and lungs filled with water, their chains trailing into the depths; British marines, their limbs rent by grapeshot and red coats draped with seaweed; the frozen passengers of the Doxie—even King Timmy wearing a crown of seashells! The terrible crew is led by Captain Charles Mercer of the Anna, a harpoon in one hand, a pale green lantern in the other. Emerging from the harbor onto the streaming docks, they begin dispersing into the tempest; but for what reason? Revenge? To whisper secrets no living man should hear? To return home?

The Keeper should decide the extent of this vision, and how long it lasts. Does only one player character witness this spectacle, while others laugh in his face? Or does the entire town see this hoary exodus, each witness flogged by some personal lash of guilt related to one of the drowned mariners? And will they remember what they’ve seen? No matter the scope, the Keeper is encouraged to stage this scenario as a ghostly vision rather than a replay of John Carpenter’s The Fog—the dead cannot attack, and will vanish at a suitably dramatic moment. Perhaps when the lightning bolt strikes the steeple on Central Hill, or when the bloated hand of a loved one pushes open a door? (Perhaps leading directly to the Byakhee attack described below?) Seeing the dead souls requires a Sanity roll for a 1/1D6 loss.

Keeper: This event can happen anywhere in Harborside, and has special variations at the Kingsport Hotel (Encounter 2) and the Mariner’s Bethel (Encounter 3).

4. The Thing on the Doorstep (Or at Least Blown Through It)
This encounter relies on outright terror. Build a sense of impending catastrophe as the storm escalates. Suddenly, an unmoored dingey smashes against the front of the tavern, shattering the widows and splintering the door. The gale roars through like a banshee, rattling the harpoons from the Whaling Wall. As candles are extinguished and fires sucked up the chimneys, something else is flung through the door, something vaguely in the shape of a man! Trapped under a flapping canvas, the figure tumbles across the floor and slams into the bar, knocking over a whale-oil lantern. As the wick hisses to extinction and the hot glass steams, burning oil spreads across the churning seawater.

What is it? Something of a race “not altogether crows, nor moles, nor buzzards, nor ants, nor vampire bats, nor decomposed human beings.” It is a Byakhee, on its way to Laird’s Cove and blown off course, tumbled into a loose sail and driven into the Knotted Iron by the squall. (See BYAKHEE in the Call of Cthulhu rulebook for description.) As far as Byakhees go, it’s small but feisty:

Byakhee

Combat
Attacks per round: 1

Armor: 2 points

Sanity Loss: 0/1D3 (Reduced because of the canvas cover)

Combat: Three Rounds with a Byakhee
The shrieking creature is panicked, entangled and concealed by a canvas sail, and flailing about in the flooded tavern. Patrons only glimpse fragments of the creature after it’s slammed into the bar, unevenly illuminated as the burning oil shudders across the water and fizzles out—and even then, the Byakhee is trying to mimic human form under the canvas. After the fire burns down, the only sources of light are wild flashes of lightning and a few bobbing jack-o-lanterns. The Keeper should build a dramatic sense of revelation as each flash exposes something not right—a hump below the canvas, a skittering appendage, or a lobster claw tearing through the sail. The Byakhee only wants to escape­, but in doing so, lashes out at everything it its way, foregoing its blood-draining bite for a more immediate claw attack. The monster remains/attacks for only three rounds, after which it’s sucked back into the storm with a hideous screeching.

Aftermath
After a moment of dumbfounded silence, the tavern bursts to life—shouting, swearing, even wild laughter. What the hell was that? Within moments of the creature’s departure, the patrons’ minds frantically construct explanations to plaster over this breach in reality. Was it a lunatic escaped from the Arkham Insane Asylum? Some wretched sailor driven mad, entangled in a lobster trap? Some terrible creature dredged up from the deep? Or was it Ol’ Puddinghead himself, hahaha—?!?

White Leviathan > Chapter 1—Kingsport 1844
[Back to “Harborside” | White Leviathan TOC | Forward to Encounter 2, The Kingsport Hotel]

Author: A. Buell Ruch
Last Modified: 19 October 2021
Email: quail (at) shipwrecklibrary (dot) com
White Leviathan PDF: [TBD]