Beneath the Neath

Fallen London’s societies have much to offer. Conversation, things of value and beauty, sublime pleasures the likes of which you’ve never dreamed.

It’s a shame you will never be a part of that.

There is a dark underbelly to London-- Thugs and petty thieves share the shadows, Rubbery Outcasts and unlucky mothers struggle to help their families see another day. The Constables have far more important matters to attend to than the death of those with barely three pence to their names, and crime runs rampant.

So does hope.




Name: Quentin Varask
Race: Rubbery
Story: Quentin once was a scholar. Decorated, even, and the hood that hid his face quickly rocketed him into the public spotlight. It was torn off at a lecture, and he was cast out, left to die in the underworld of the Neath. Today he struggles to learn more than all their visionaries combined, simply because he has nothing else to do with his time.
Strengths: Remarkably intelligent.
Flaws: Slow, physically fragile, soft-hearted.
Other: Doesn’t seem to eat. That might be normal for a Rubbery Man.

I do love the underworld of the underworld. What is this about?

This is about the relationships between criminals and citizens. It’s meant to explore a touched-on view of the Neath-- The world of the rejected. That’s what I love about this: Echo Bazaar is a window. These roleplays explore more of the tale.

Oh, I mean, I was wondering what kind of thread this would be - I’m actually not sure how to word it! But as in, I realize it’s about criminals, but how would these roleplays work? That sounds silly, excuse me, but I guess I was just asking for more of an explanation.

Oh! Oh, I do apologize. This is something of a collaborative story-- You create a character, and control that character’s actions and interactions with other players. For example, I might post something like:

Quentin peered curiously at the newcomer. How strange. Her name was Madeline.

And then whoever is writing Madeline may post something like:

Her name was, indeed, Madeline. She made this fact very clear across tea with the dear Rubbery.

And that’s about it. Any more questions? I’ll do what I can. ^^

Oh, well, yes I understood that! I mean, would it be about a specific event, follow a few specific persons? A storyline? It just seems so broad right now!

This sounds promising. Desperate Londoners are so much easier to take advantage of than the only-slightly-below-average ones…

If we are in need of at least one setting, might I offer up my humble abode [as described in my post here not so long ago]? I’m devilishly in need of hands, as I’ve only just set up the place. But, one must run a business, of course, and I may be oh-so-in-need-enough (one must never use the word ‘desperate’, as it is incredibly unfashionable) that I could foresee a hiring of …Rubberies. (May Hell rest my soul.)

That is, again, if one does not mind a devil (myself, of course!) in the game running, nor a hand in direction of plot (by offering such a suggestion as this!)? I only offer because we are, as some other citizen has already pointed out, rather broad in plot at the moment.

Thoughts, darlings?

Let’s just say that given my connections in the most “clerical” circles , i have learned to distrust doing business with an , ehem, “horned” gentle-thing. But given my excepcional catholic upbringing a good business opportunity is always acceptable in the eyes of the Lord. And i heard there was money to be made around here , so , Mr Augustus what is your proposition?

But before you ask let me give a brief introduction of myself . I’m a handyman, I can “fix” what is or may not be broken and I’m currently posing as an accountant in the most exquisite Mahogany Hall. And quite frankly, between daytime tax-evasion and nightime sabotage of the imperial opera one just cannot make a decent living. Now, if you want to know anything more about me , shall we perhaps continue over a nice cup of tea ? or perhaps something stronger?

Oh and by the way, i hope you can give my apologies to that poor senior demon that decided to make an offer for my soul. It was a sensitive topic and i may have overreacted by throwing him and the sofa he was sitting on of a second story. I just wish this won’t lead to any bad blood in the future.

edited by Andrey Shmarev Shmareva on 1/8/2012

Citizen Andrey, if I may first put to bed those fanciful fears of yours! I am a devil, yes, but the situation is of an utmost more complex nature than a gentile creature as myself would care to discuss idly in a doorway or another such place. I will spare the details, but for this moment, it is fair to say that I am both of and am not of the Embassy, and being as such (and something else, entirely, I may so cheekily add!), I am obligated to no ties but the ones that amuse me most often. In fact, I am a regular attendee of the congregation – you may have seen me, then, on Sundays; I am the charming thing in the black lace and veil, you see! – and can find even the most dullest of sermons dryly, well… hilarious. But one must keep a good reputation, musn’t one? And by any means!

I would, however, refrain from tossing my fellow Hellish associates out of doors (or windows) within the future. These lips are tightly locked as to why, but I will acknowledge that my brethren have been quite on edge as of late. Do be careful. Beyond that, the Affectionate Devil is a good bosom friend of mine. It wouldn’t do, simply, to be without his humour for even the shortest of evenings.

But my, I digress!

My business, simillar to any story or issue relating to my background, is none of the sort that is deemed common enough for friendly banter ‘round the cobblestone walkways. As you are well aware, even the shingles and doorstops have ears, these days, and a proper Fisher-King can fish more than just the simple tokens of one’s pocket by wires, these days. Therefore, I simply must invite you, and any other, to the manor for tea – it is on the eastern side, farthest away from the House of Chimes, but directly across from it, given a loop in the road or two! Just behind the docks, really! – perhaps sometime in the late afternoon? That is, if a handyman’s schedule allows, darling. (Ha ha!)

In the meantime, I have noticed a most curious of forms to be filled out upon demand by the game master (though I shudder to think of a Rubbery as anything more than a… a serf!) that I will carefully proceed in scripting. I will also briefly fill out the same form, if necessary, for my maid and coachman, but only upon his request, since at least one of them does share my lodgings, and I am frequently in the company of the other. I shall hope to see the same done by yourself in the interim, of course, and then tomorrow, I should very much like to feast mine eyes upon the rest of you, in action. I shall save my introductions for then, if you please, as I do so enjoy remaining mysterious as long as possible.

I will submit my ‘envelope’ not at this moment, however – do not worry, mine will be obvious with its most fashionable and dramtic flair! – with informative documents providing background and profile for a devil of myserious origins sometime in the early hours of the morning.

For now, my dearest handyman, and rubbery …person, I will take back to the Shuttered Palace, where I entertain, on certain odd days. I am now late, and simply must go and prepare my toilette. Ta, for now.

My apologies for not recognizing you firsthand , my dear 7th row 14 seat (what a bold position to be seated in the House of the Lord, ha ha) counting from the weeping saint alternatively known as proscribed material with a biblical cover. I must tip my hat off to your most skilled art at nonchalantness.
Also i’d love to assist you on your matter yet as much as my fixing ability can go it is taxed when it comes to my schedule . But i would’t dare insult someone of your heigh by refusing an invitation so i’ll be most humbled if you could receive me after luncheon.

But before i forget, I must ask you on the matters of the comming of age of your second cousin empolyer’s daughter and whether it should be more acceptable to send for a box of cellar truffles or maybe a bouquet of fungi to place by the open window ?
And what to say of the congratulatory card! Should one compare the comming of age close to rolling fog or maybe dauntly reference to a last call of her chilhood? After all, time is of the essence.

But speaking of work, i’m always wary of paperwork that convey personal information because the moment you take your eyes away those bits of you are already flying tied to a bat’s paw across our fair city. But , as the saying goes “Even the Great Game has rules”, so one must comply with our Rubbery host.

Name: Anton Crowley (my name for this job, for non laboral activities I’m known as Andrey Shmarev)
Race: Human, nordic-alpine features
Story: After the 3 years of labour in the offices of his favourite uncle’s fungal manure factory went in flames as part of collateral damage of The Great Game the only choice was scraping for pittance to get a ticket out of the Neath for both of them but no criminal experience landed Andrey into the penitentiary stalactite and his uncle searching for God with his mind rappidly dissolving. The rest? his lips may get more lose the more the story is advanced. Only know that after becoming active he was only caught because it was in his interests to be in New Newgate again.
Strengths: Endurable and sturdy (phisically and mentaly) , posessing technical skills (of both lethal and non lethal variety) , sharp eye for details and surroundings, good shot (carries a ratwork derringer), can hide in a crowd
Flaws: Conservative (paranoid if too many coincidences happen) , has an unremarkable face (flaw or escape method?) and a forgettable personality , does not aprove of risks (which is not the same as refusing danger), greed may make him forget his risk aversion at any given moment (resisting is a matter of luck), performs poorly when lurking in the shadows (he moves at an unreasonable slow pace)
Other: souls are a touchy subject to him.

edited by Andrey Shmarev Shmareva on 1/13/2012

A manor behind the docks? It sounds like a curious place, but this is evidently also a curious business. Tea in the afternoon sounds positively lovely.

Name: Audrey Shae
Race: Human
Story: I was the wife of a scholar on the Surface, but his disappearance and my daughter’s murder led me to the Neath. I had planned to return as soon as possible, but the case has taken much longer than I originally anticipated. I currently bide my time as a scholar of my own repute, following the Correspondence and just about anything similarly intriguing. This constant pursuit makes it difficult to keep a job.
Strengths: Intellect and a quick eye. Good with a pen. Good with children. Steadfast.
Flaws: Sickly, low physical strength. Alcoholism. Can be easily distracted. Alcoholism.
Other: Soulless, but I like to think it hasn’t made too much a difference.

(I don’t know how far i can call this off character since no story seems to have developed here but i’d be interested in attempting to make an role playing story even though i’m possibly the least indicated person to do that . Although i have a very simple and somewhat short story in my head righ now if anyone is inclined to come along for the ride , i hope it can deliver)

Imports and Exports

“Trust is effectivelt a one time deal. The moment your hand leaves your partner’s , a dagger is making her way between your shoulderblades. And even if it sounds like i’ve lost my mind after a fortnight of honeyed gardens and mirage palaces I must come clean on this matter : I need help. I am at a wits’ end after a matter of professional pride and i need a specialist. After your introductions , you lot seem to be the right kind of freelancers. Crazy enough to hunt inside a dream for possibly for half a clayman’s paycheck and without a reason not to do it. But i won’t be cheap with you , i promise , at least 100 echoes in brass after all of this is done for those who come to my aid. Now , to the main issue : Dream scholar needed, master of nightmares, fluent speaker of dead and killer languages and strong of will. Those who want to answer my call meet with the fair haired gentleman in workman’s clothes reading a newspaper on the second lampost to the left of the gazette stand in front of the Mahogany hall at a quarter to two in the morning. If said gentleman has his sleeves rolled and is fiddling with his time piece , you shall stumble on him and in your pocket , further instructions will be received”

This note was delivered by a stout urchin with a scar on his face to every member of this “brotherhood”.