Hello! I’m quite new to Fallen London, but I am very curious about the roleplay community here! I’m still learning the lore and such, but I’m sure that will become more obvious with play. Either way, I am not a new roleplayer, as I have been forum/chat room/tabletop playing for around ten years now.
I’m truly not the best writer you’ll ever meet, mind you, but I do give it my all. If my grammar ever offends, don’t be afraid to correct me.
-crosses fingers.- Here’s hoping my concept draws in some partners.
My character is Katherine "Kitty" Cross (in game just Kitty Cross), an aspiring young writer who is just beginning her climb up the social ladder. She uses the pen name Kitty Cross almost as a mask, assuming the role of the confident and alluring poet with many whimsical hopes and dreams…despite the fact something a touch darker lays in wait behind her ‘innocent’ eyes.
[li]So delighted to make your acquaitance. I too am recently arrived in the Neath and have slowly been finding my way about in Fallen society. I am a recent convert to the art of literature as well, and would be happy to share my experiences and offer whatever meager assistance I can.
Well, there’s a very active RP community right here at: http://fallen-london.livejournal.com/ . They’re pretty cool people, so…yeah!
-Allows to be one of the first to welcome you to the Neath. Us bohemian types must stick together, hmmm? My name is Kane, though you, my dear, may have read some of my works under the name of Doordox
A rather unfortunate moniker I must confess. Yet you come highly reccomened among circles, I decided to drop you a line. Do give me a call some time?
Hello, Ms. Cross!
Allow me to introduce myself-- I am VÅ! I too, am recently arrived in the Neath. I may be busy at times, as I have many many quests- and another consciousness in other world to manage. Oh- ignore that last bit. Just know that i’m busy. I’m connected with the Bohemians, and have published works and poems, although my goal is to make myself officially affiliated with the Celestials.
If you wish to contact me, my whereabouts are somewhere under this letter. Good luck with making your way around.
My Dear Ms. Cross!
It is so lovely to make your acquaintance. It is unusual to meet another Kitty, but some have chosen to shorten it to Cat. (Cathérine Delmarr, just Kitty in game.) You will have to excuse my friends however, those at the Brass Embassy can be somewhat…over-friendly. I am new to the Neath myself, but am dying to meet people such as yourself.
you confined me here[/quote]
I meant can find me. Terribly sorry, old bean.
A letter has been stuffed through your letter box, it is slightly singed.
Dear Ms Cross
Anybody who aspires to climb the elegant chain of society is a friend of mine. Please pardon Mr Waylander for his probably inappropriate delivery of this letter, he is not the most subtle of individuals. Any interest please do not hesitate to contact me.
Signed Wilson Vetenari
[li]Dear Miss Cross,
[li]Welcome to London! It’s always great to have another writer join our ranks. I am a man of many names, but the one I preferred to be called is Thomas Marquee Reme. If you wish to join the ranks of society than you can find few better friends than me. Most are embarrassed to be seen with me, but all are willing to party with me. Due to a resent Disagreement with the Duchess over an opera I may not be the most reachable person, but if you contact me I will arrange to make some introductions as soon as I’m not in any immediate danger of having my tongue cut out.
[li]Yours, Thomas Reme
It is always a delight to meet people new to the Neath. I too came here in search of inspiration, and have certainly had a great deal of success. My time as an author was very successful (if I may be so immodest), with an appreciation society and classic short story to prove it. Now I have turned to more academic pursuits as a Correspondant. It would be my pleasure to share my experience with you.
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Illuvatar (Feel free to send me in game letters for RP purposes)
An abrupt, sudden wind blows toward you. You feel a piece of paper slap your face, it doesn’t hurt, but it caught you off guard. Just as you are about to throw it on the ground, you realize that there’s something written on it. It is a letter, written in inconsistent and ugly handwriting.
[i]To whomever it may cross, [/i]
[i]It is with curiosity and intrigue that I imagine what would become of these letters that is born from my boredom. I've recently been deconstructing great many appalling secrets, and saving up supplies for my expeditions, to where I will not tell. I am no socialite yet I am more than willing to make an acquaintance, and considered by many as an eccentric, and by others, someone to be feared. But fear not, so long as there is no reason for me to hurt you, you've no need to fear. I shall be at the Singing Mandrake on the eleventh day at noon. [/i]
[i]Sincerely, The Philosopher of the Human Condition[/i]
Just as you finished reading everything, letters written in ink started appearing on the unused space at the bottom, how that had happened matters not. It was probably your eyes playing tricks on you. It read:
"Though you can just send me a calling card, you can leave it at one of those remote third city temples."
edited by John Moone on 7/10/2015
While walking through Veilgarden, you feel a tap on your shoulder.
“This is yours, correct?”
A short, pale man in an simple dark suit hands you a bag containing several of your things - honey, manuscripts and a diary containing private information. Seeing the alarm on your face, he waves his hand reassuringly, yet somewhat curtly.
“Don’t worry. Yes, you were robbed. They may or may not be affiliated with me. I recognized your name. A good friend of mine who sings at Mahogany Hall is always talking about you.”
He hands you a card. There is no address, just his name and the Wheel of Mists. “I work in Spite. Where I sleep is nobody’s concern, but you can call on me where I work. I’m actually very easy to find. Helps prove I was there at a given time. But if you ask any Urchins - or any of Spite’s cats, for that matter - where you might speak with the king’s jester, they will see that you find me.”
A rather large scale march appears past your dwelling, full of banners, shouting Londoners and a full musical section, playing a highly aggressive sounding version of a patriotic song. As it blares and harangues its way past, a young tough, dressed in the dark colours of the march, brusquely shoves a letter into the letterbox of your door before joining his fellows in assaulting a squadron of anarchists. It takes a few days to read the letter as it was accidentally buried among a small hillock’s worth of radical, anti-hell pamphlets.
A wrong turn in Spite, an alley with no streetlights, and you’re lost. A roar from a local rookery startles you, and you stumble. Gentle hands catch you and right you, and you look up to see a man, er, woman, er…person with a smile and sad eyes. At their side is a marsh-wolf with a goofy smile and its tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“Careful, friend. These streets are foul. Let’s travel somewhere with more light.” A firm hand on your arm guides you seemingly in circles, but soon you emerge into the marketplace. Your companion slips into the crowd with a wink and a smile, but not until you’ve gotten the basics. Jackie Pink. American. Detective and small-time poet. “Come up and see me sometime.”
Another lovely day in Veil Garden, and a tall, beautiful woman in a fairly low cut red dress and clicking heels seems to have a sparked curiosity in you as she strides up with a confident sway in her hips.
"So you’re the cute little lady I’ve heard about hmm?" she purrs, walking circles around you, then takes your hand ever so gently and guides you along through the Garden. "I’ve heard quite a bit about you darling, you’re quite… popular, among my friends here, they say we may get on well." she coos, leaning close and slipping a card into your shirt and leaving you with a small kiss and finally purring message "Do come find me sweet heart~ I’d love to play sometime…"
I hope this letter finds you well. I am glad to hear you have recently come to the Neath, as I too have only just arrived. And yet, already I find myself tremendously busy. You will learn just how quickly things move down here. Well, most things. I wish I could go on, but it is somewhat difficult to use my typewriter while in such a cramped space, and I fear that those seeking me can hear the keys clicking. Hopefully they will mistake said clicking for their own clawed footsteps.
One last piece of advice: trust no one. That being said, you can always consider me a friend.
While walking through Veilgarden you come across a man and a woman verbally haranguing each other and throwing overdone biscuits in volleys. You gather that the man was attempting to collect his royalties from… Oh! You’ve seen him once before! The Reticent Actor. He performed briefly in Veilgarden before branching into writing. Seems his agent stiffed him. And is continuing to do so with biscuits. Well, some people like that in a representative.
You can’t help but pick up a fallen business card of his. Perhaps you could share a laugh over the incident?
edited by Schmidt on 10/20/2015