The Forgotten Saints (Confessions at Hallowmas)

Fallen London
1

(This year’s confessions are below, for their category, and this year is finished. If you missed this year’s story, the links and their associated content are still open for reading.)

Before you begin this year, you can wrap up the Midnighters’ stories here, and deal with their pursuers.
Dealing with the Midnighters’ Confessions

Hallowmas 1896

This year, there is no Procession of the Forgotten Saints, and no confessions to be taken. The Bishop is likely focusing on bigger celebrations, and his other plans. And yet, you have received a card calling upon your aid, asking to meet you where the Procession had been.

The Prudent Confessor meets you in the alley. “The Bishop has his planning. The saints of the secret cloth are aiding him. London, more than ever, needs confession, but has no one to carry it out.” She looks down the alleyway sadly. “The Bishop has higher, bloodier plans. And London busies itself with the questions of where the Rosers went. I have… found a way to help you with that quest. It is not safe, or easy. But I wish to show you the consequences of our alliances.”

She holds up a candle inscribed with Correspondence. “If you are willing to help me… Look into its light.”

Its light recalls the high, sunlit places. Behind your eyes, you can almost feel sunlight and its gentle, warm touch in your skin. “Remember this light. Remember it when they demand a tribute of confessions.” (Your confession will be posted regardless of the choice you make; it is solely a text and character based choice.)

Finally, she holds out a pot of honey. “Each dream holds an answer to where the Rosers went, and a shard of glass. Take the shard. Give them nothing. Nothing but the light.”

You take a spoonful of honey, and dream.

You are standing in a gently falling column of rose petals. Through the soft descent of the petals comes white light, and the sounds of marching and battle. You push through, to…

An old dream of Curiosity

An old dream of Guile

An old dream of Violence

An old dream of Impropriety

An old dream of Pride

An old dream of Whimsy

When you have completed the Confessor’s task, you may finish the story here.
A lonely mirror

Confessions
Archive
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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I believe there’s already a thread for confessions, though it didn’t specify what sort they had to be. …Nor, in fact, did I realize that confessions were of certain types. ^.^;;

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I do have to say, the stories in the links were quite well done.

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This thread is based on the style of old Hallowmas confessions, from player to player.

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http://community.failbettergames.com/topic25290-the-ivory-door--a-hallowmas-confession.aspx

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I mean, I’m not going to complain if you post a confession here as well. Like honestly, go ahead. I certainly won’t stop you.

(Er, &quothere&quot meaning this thread, not the link.)
edited by ReusedNPC on 11/5/2017

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Now that Hallowmas is over, will we see these confessions posted as well? :)

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Here are the Confessions.

Violence

[spoiler]

1896: &quotNow tell me of violence, of those you have slain. I will reward you…&quot
It is not who I have slain, but why. In your service, I have killed many times. But I may end it with one last murder. I will rise to the surface, and slay something fierce and old…

1895: &quotViolence begets violence- what did you do, and what were the consequences?&quot
You’d never believe it. My entire family, father through mother, all the way down to youngest sibling, little Annette. Killed them all, if I recall correctly.

Problem is, I can’t. Nobody can. It was a difficult business, a horrid affair, but mysteriously bloodless for such a bloodbath.
It was too ridiculous to be believed, but it seemed to have happened, so maybe it did. They didn’t know what to do, so I was permitted to stay at home.
For 5 years I was the youngest Earl my lineage had ever had.

Oh, why I’m confessing? Well, while it would be a terrible pity if my dearest Annette really had died, most grievous indeed…
I’d pay my right bollock to know I killed my father.

he attacked me. or, i thought he was gonna. i swung at him, and he’s dead now. but he was never trying to kill me. he was gonna let someone else do it. and i beat that person. if i hadn’t swung at him, he’d be here right now.

I have cherished each sensation I have felt, every taste and emotion I could find. But they fade like any drug and a stronger, purer form must be found. This is why I came to wear a Black Ribbon. I have sent people down river in ways that mean they shall not return. This is not my confession. My confession is that this thrill too faded, but as with wine and honey I did not cease. I have permanently killed and felt nothing. To kill for pleasure is one thing, but I suspect I may have found future enjoyment in the company of a person who, by my hand, no longer exists.
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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Guile

[spoiler]

1896: &quotTell me of your plots, of your snares.&quot
I have gone with guile in the name of greed. I have gone with guile in the name of insight. I have gone with guile in the name of foolishness. I have gone with guile in the name of protecting, or destroying, another. I have gone with guile in my own name, and in the name of others. I have gone with guile in the name of love- but never, ever, not once, have I gone with guile in love. This I swear, and this I shall not cross.

1895

I stole a man, once.
He was splendid, like you’d never thought. And I plucked him right out of the sky. Sent him down to earth, and then through, and further down:
All the way down here.

The worst part is, at the time? I thought I was justified. I thought we fell together.

I think that was why I did it, you know.

When we hurtled down, I truly believed we fell from the same height.

i wasn’t supposed to interfere. but i did. they both thought it was a fair game, but it wasn’t. the first time, he died anyway. the second time, she died but now he hates me. i know it was wrong but i just couldn’t bear to watch him die. i had to watch it anyway and now he hates me. and he should.

I was given mercy by &quotIronclad&quot Wickes once. I understood how rare that was, down here. But on my business as an agent of the Masters, I was blamed for a streak of robberies of Bazaar property. When I stood in front of Wickes again, I called upon the Masters to free me. I cannot forget the shame when I looked into Wickes’ eyes.

I committed guile against myself. I work as a detective, and was tasked with finding a man, an Ostentatious Zee Captain. He was responsible for disrupting the Great Game, as I aimed to, as well. And when I found him, I learned he was me. I had went to the Shrine of Saint Joshua, and asked to be split. I would be the perfect spy, as I would not remember my real life, only the one I had created. And as another man, I killed hundreds, as I was asked.
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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Whimsy

[spoiler]

1896: &quotRest your burdens with me. Tell me of whimsy, and it’s consequences.&quot

1895: &quotIndeed, a crime of ignorance, or impulse, is the worst. But it is the most forgivable. Or perhaps no crime at all?&quot
My life. Start to finish, every second of it: Nary a day passed of my own volition, but for the fancies of my heart.

I thought my life was just one long evening, you know. Constantly teetering on the edge of sleep, too exhausted to feel tired, too vital to feel like life.
I was having too much fun to sleep.

And then I woke up here.
Old.

I’m not even sure how I ended up in the Neath, honestly. I just did. I just let it.
they made me happy. they were like me when so many other people down here weren’t. it was all just harmless fun, just done for thrills and giggles. i loved being a part if it.

but they weren’t harmless and by the time i found out, it was too late. i saved one of them but i couldn’t save both. i wanted to go back for him but i couldn’t. i still hear his screams at night.

Before I came here, to the Neath, I worked as a spy. It was just me and my mother, and so I used espionage as a way to survive. I heard of an assignment that was related to my father, which I took despite the dangers. I wanted to find him, learn who he was, and maybe secure a future. I completed my assignment, and returned home to find my mother dead, with black rose petals scattered around her. I had no ties left on the Surface. After her funeral, I descended, broken, to the Neath to get answers, and justice. Thus, my error is part of who I am. What I would give to return to those days of poverty and hardship. I could have given my mother a happier life, if not for that assignment.
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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Curiosity

[spoiler]

1896: &quotTell me of what you sought.&quot

Purpose.

I sought peace, or perhaps a respite.

1895: &quotWhat did you seek, and what was the consequence?&quot
I sought love.

I do, still, of course.
We all do, in a way. But back then I had put a face to love.
I knew how Love ate, walked, danced, wept.
I knew how Love loved, for Love loved me.

But I’m terribly, horribly indecisive, you see. I couldn’t choose, never could, still can’t, what I would sacrifice, to know Love. So I didn’t. I tried to wait it out, I suppose? To forget debt, and then my debt would forget me? I don’t know.

In the end, I’d forgotten that Love sought as well. Maybe Love was its own sacrifice. Maybe I had sacrificed love to know love.
It doesn’t matter.

I was the head detective on the Jack of Smiles case. I zailed to Polythreme; spoke with Spices; pinned down how Jack came to be. Because of it, I could not end him(?).

I sought the Name, and lost all else.

they invited me to a party. i didn’t really understand it, but i wanted to go anyway cause it sounded interesting. everything sounded interesting to me back then. two of them wanted to be my friend. i dunno why. i couldn’t be friends with both of them, but i didn’t know that. they both died 'cause i didn’t know that. they died 'cause i was poking around in something i didn’t understand.
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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Pride

[spoiler]

1896: &quotTell me of your pride. Tell me of the world beyond, and I will free you…&quot
As soon as I escaped from New Newgate, I murdered the man who reported me for being unable to pay my debts. They weren’t mine; My father drank himself to death in that man’s bar, and his debts passed on to me. but I didn’t do it for family, or out of fear he would send me back. In the end, it was for my own name.
1895: &quotDid you hold pride in yourself? Your skills, someone else, an ideal? What were the consequences?&quot
I never had anything of which to be proud.

I was young, very young when I was made Earl, and I hated it.

Loathed it, loathed being proud of something I did not do myself yet found myself so unwilling to be anything but loatheful, for that I already was.
I thought I was immune to pride, concealing my pride in a suffocating veil of constant, consistent self-contempt.
I wore it like a gown of purest ermine and silk, I used pithy remarks like perfume, a scathing wit like a ceremonial sword. How unaffected I was. I was proud of it.

And yet, for as fascinated I was by how grey my own gloom could be, I suddenly saw a star. Like a sun, more glorious than a sun, like sun turned Man, he was. Oh, I loved him, and I was proud of him. So proud, so so proud.

So I stole him. Stole him, stole the light right out of him and fell down to the Neath. I was proud of that. How easy he was for me to steal.

And, I must confess to you. I’m still a little bit proud.

I thought myself greater than gods, and in the attempt to bring them down I lost my mind not once, nor twice, but thrice.

i’ve always been a fighter. it’s really the only thing i know how to do. so when i found out there was a place for the best fighters to risk everything to prove themselves…i wanted in.

by then i knew better. i knew the kind of man i wanted to be, and i knew that kind of man couldn’t be a part of something like this. but i wanted to be…i had to show everyone i could defeat every single one of them.

and i did and now he’s dead and i regret it. i regretted it the second i swung the ax. but i knew the rules and i played anyway. i hate the mayor but i hate myself more.
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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Impropriety

[spoiler]

1896: &quotAnd you… how have you broken your constraints? And what were the consequences?&quot
1895
What is fact, but a universally agreed upon opinion? I was improper, yes, but that was a fact. A fact so fundamental I could not have done anything but break it.

You see, I was always a bit improper. Improperly dressed, improperly behaved, improperly orphaned. But I always thought I’d carved out a properly improper space for me, where I could slowly become proper with time and the changing whims of society.

But I found a man, much like the sun, oh so much, and I was nowhere close to the sun. I’ve heard one can turn into scorching flames from sunlight, and yet all those years ago I was sure I was more alive then than I’ll ever be, even in death.

And then… Well, he was within arms reach, after all. So I took him. I stole him, so far above me as he was, as he couldn’t have been mine to take and I could never have been his to consider.

I was told most people weren’t even allowed to look people like him in the eyes.

His eyes were beautiful.

i had a fiance once. i loved her a lot. i still do. but she went away for a long time and when she came back she was different. she was so distant. and there was somebody else. someone who loved me while she was gone. i told them no 'cause i had a fiance. but then when she came back…

it was easy to stay faithful when she was gone. but when she came back and i thought she didn’t love me anymore…then it was hard. i ended things. i loved the new person. then the new person fell in love with someone else, and my fiance loves someone i hate. i deserve it.
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018
edited by Ixc on 11/28/2018

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"You’d never believe it. My entire family, father through mother, all the way down to youngest sibling, little Annette. Killed them all, if I recall correctly.

Problem is, I can’t. Nobody can. It was a difficult business, a horrid affair, but mysteriously bloodless for such a bloodbath.
It was too ridiculous to be believed, but it seemed to have happened, so maybe it did. They didn’t know what to do, so I was permitted to stay at home.
For 5 years I was the youngest Earl my lineage had ever had.

Oh, why I’m confessing? Well, while it would be a terrible pity if my dearest Annette really had died, most grievous indeed…
I’d pay my right bollock to know I killed my father."

I think this one is my favorite of the bunch, but I don’t even have a guess as to who wrote it. Anyone want to lay claim? ;)

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Oh ho, some excellent ones here. One is Amsfield’s. I enjoyed the young earl saga particularly, but not a bad one in the bunch. Well done to all confessors.

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These are great. Especially the ones about love, of course. And it seems stealing a prince (or something similar) from the surface is worth a few different confessions…

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[quote=shylarah]These are great. Especially the ones about love, of course. And it seems stealing a prince (or something similar) from the surface is worth a few different confessions…[/quote] I didn’t realise how self-obsessed it looked, until they were all posted… Now I just feel vain. Oh well, I suppose confessing should carry some shame.

I’m very flattered that my young earl’s misadventures were well-received.

18

They were awesome. I’ll bet he’d be a really fun character to RP :D

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This Earl- I suspect that he might not be at fault, but think he is. Perhaps not. He certainly has some problems.

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He was probably not at fault, unless you could genuinely stomach the idea of a 12 year old with a mild case of mumps somehow managing to kill all 6 members of his family and about 8 servants, and then somehow clean it to an impeccable shine aside from the blood he himself wore, which he had then neglected to take care of and instead had gone back to bed, but not before having hid most of the bodies god knows where.

The alternative, though, is that they were killed by Wulver or something, so the answer is to just not think about it.