The Name of Frogvarian

Fallen London
1

This thread is dedicated to the Frogvarians, a family of zailors of modest renown, their fate in Neath, adventures and exploits. Updates shall take place at least once a week in the form of story snippets.

More characters might be added as I play Sunless Sea.

The Family:

Frogvarian (the First)

An urchin born of London in times long past. He bought a ship and became its Captain, the stern but wistful Frogvarian. For years he sailed the zee, uncovering mysteries one by one.


R. J. Frogvarian

A servant of the Frogvarian family. A figure covered in mysteries, both their own and of others. They came to London from the surface decades after it fell, to prepare for the return of the young Captain from the zee.


Rebeka Frogvarian

Young Captain, out on the zee. Soon, she’ll return to London. Her destiny is that of sorrow, pain, loss. Nothing good awaits poor Rebeka. The family servant prepares for her quest with mournful efficiency.

Table of Contents:
A cautionary tale
edited by Frogvarian on 11/11/2018

2

“Is it wise, Captain?” the man asked.
“It’s intriguing,” the Captain replied. “Have you no sense of curiosity, R.?”
The man stroked his beard. The brim of his top hat somehow covered his eyes from every angle.
I lack a want to die as strong as yours.”
The Captain smiled. “It’s thirst for adventure,” he said, disappearing into the tomb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s never been quite the same, ever since…”
“Dear Lord, R., what did he even find in that place?”
“I told you, I didn’t go-”
“Well, we’re all going to suffer for it now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Young master Robert, your father’s not feeling well…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tell me, R.,” Robert asked, “Do you remember his name?”
“I do not, sir,” the woman said, touching the brim of her hat.
“Shame… I had hoped I’m the only one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rebeka stood at the bow of her ship, eyes turned to the vast zee.
“Have you ever known his name?” she asked.
“I have not,” the person standing on the pier replied.
“Would you like to?”
“Like nothing else in the world.”
She smiled and turned towards them.
“Would you like me to tell you once I know, R.?”
“I wish that were possible.”
“And to know his name… I have to seek his as well?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She still smiled, though her eyes were filled with sorrow.
“Make sure things are nice and ready once I return, then.”
“Of course, Captain. I shall.”
“Goodbye, then, for now, R.”
“Goodbye… Rebeka.”

As the ship sailed away, a constable’s hand touched the person’s shoulder.
“Si-, er, Mad-, er, yes, it’d be best if you would come with us.”
They showed no resistance.
“Of course, officer,” they smiled, “But I must warn you, there are matters for me to attend to.”

3

1̕҉5̛͢͠͝͞.̸̨̛͠͞1͘͜͡0̴̶͜.̴̧1897
At last, out of that dreaded prison! Though I will miss the cuisine. Found a room to live in. Bought a perfect purple corset as well as tailcoats, though the latter doesn’t fit all too well. My search starts - I’ve taken to the work of a detective. Still I write, here and there.

̡͞2҉̵́5҉.̶̨̕1̷0̡͘͢.̴̢̧̀͢1897
A patron! A midnighter by the name of Blackwell reached out to me, willing to help my search and improve my capabilities. I believe this will be a fruitful relationship.

̢̛̕͜͟2̵̴͢͞9͟҉̸.̡̛́͟1̷̷̕͞͝0̨͏̢1897
The search progresses slowly. Between cases and published works, the many balls, parties, honey-filled nights, and undone buttons are, while a nice distraction, still a distraction. I’m afraid the hedonism will hinder my work too much. Considering dabbling in archaeology.

̸͜3̸̶͘͝.̵̧̛́1̨͜͞1̡́̕̕͜.̧͟͝1897
Met with Doctor Lawrence. An intriguing scientist of the Society, if a little reserved. A past sailor. Mayhaps I can listen to their tales of the seas one day.

̵̶͡͝͝7̸̨̛̀̕.̶̕1҉̶͟1̷̀.̸̷͡1897
I’ve gained an invitation to the court of the Traitor Empress herself. Behind close doors, the Society folk truly enjoy themselves like some more restrained Bohemians I know.

̵̢̧͠1̶̷͜͝͠1́̕.̢̕͏̴1͏̡̛́̀1͞҉͞҉͠.̴̵̨͜͞1897
Heureka! Progress at last. A set of seven stones, each with a letter, all like written in water. An acquaintance of mine set his head on fire trying to discover their secrets. The research is invaluable, though. Old Master should’ve told me about this beforehand, though I suppose I cannot complain. I’ve gained an invitation to the University. Still, my research progresses slower than I anticipated. The Captain should be returning soon. I must be ready.

̧́̕1҉͜4̷҉̷́̕.̴̴̡͘͘1͏̨̧͢͢1̵͞.̷1897
A murder! Another one, in any case. At the University. I’ve asked to be assigned to the case. It should be simple enough, and I can focus on further research into this Correspondence. The letters are revealing more and more secrets to me each day. My head is spinning (and sometimes on fire). Just imagine the possibilities of this tongue! I must focus… there’s a goal ahead of me. The Captain will return very soon, and now I know that I will be ready to guide her.

4

Dear R.,

expect me by the end of the month. Minor complications arose. I’m bringing back a sweet pea.

Rebeka


[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]1́͠5̶̸̢.͏̡̛͝1̷͜͠͡҉1̵̨.̡̧̛͠1897[/font]
[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]
[/font]
[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]The Captain arrived today. In a coffin, as it were. Rebeka was never one for subtleties, not in life and not in death. Fought with a giant squid, the crew tells me. The squid wasn't even attacking. They had a scuffle about preferred brands of Greyfields from what I heard.[/font]
[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]
[/font]
[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]No matter - she is back, and thus I must work. She's a slow riser, I have about a week more to prepare. Moved her to my lodgings for the time being. Once she awakes, though, she will be on her own. This is not a journey I can undertake with her, only one I have to assist in.[/font]
[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]
[/font]
[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]The studies of the Correspondence are progressing well. I take great care not to go mad, just yet. Den's lessons have been more and more fruitful, also. We moved to training of the physical kind, and nightly sittings with stories of the Neath. Fruitful guidance.[/font]
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[font=&quotTimes New Roman&quot]I pray for Rebeka's journey to be fruitful as well.[/font]
5

2͠҉͘͝҉0͢͏.͠1̷̧̀1̴͠͞.̴͢1897
The Captain has woken up now. With a mad look in her eye. She wasn’t talkative, evasive, even, but I’ve employed a group of urchins to keep an eye on her. They report her staring at candles, staring to the ceiling, gazing at mirrors longingly… She’s in mourning, still, even without that close relation. Understandable, of course. I will give her time, and space.

I’ve began work for the Cheesmonger. It’s bloody work, I admit it. Not that I’m ashamed; the secrets you learn in this line of work! Truly, a marvel. I’ve had to postpone my studies of the Correspondence for these few matters, however. I hope to return to them very soon, of course.

6

2҉̴̛̀͝4̢̧̧͜͠.҉҉̸͘͜1҉͢͝1̀͏̛͡.̨͠1897
I’ve been in contact with a lovely lady, searching for her husband, and a mysterious man, entangled in the matters of revolution. I thought not of talking these matters in my journal, as simple a jobs they might be. Though, in a turn of events, the two know each other…

The missionary and the revolutionary have, in the past, been married, yes. They are looking for something. A weapon, they say. A dispute of interests.

I suspect the madame has ulterior motives. So does the gentleman, undoubtedly. So do I, of course.

I decided to help them find this artefact. It’s a matter of power, after all. The search will be difficult, and, for now, I’m engulfed in work. I will return to this search, one day. Soon, even. For now, there are matters to attend to, and some little importance I would like to achieve.

7

2҉͘͟9̸̴̨̕͝.̕̕͝͞1̕̕͝1̨͜.҉̢1896
In an attempt to distract myself from my real duties, I have been spending my time writing a poem for the Empress herself. Deep in my mind and in the creative process, a hansom stopped in front of me. In it, a woman. She beckoned me to get in. I know her - I think. Cautiously, I entered. She took me on tour of London, speaking of actions and friends and presentations. I’m making quite the waves, she said.

I suppose there is a little consequence to my actions.

̸̶̡͘1̶̵́͟.͢҉1̴҉̨͝͠2̨̢̕͘.̸̷̧̛1896

'Tis the season! Of celebrations, of course. I wonder if I can get Rebeka to take a day off and celebrate with mulled wine and eggnog.


̴͡4͞͡҉̷.̷̕͏͝1҉͜͏͢2̸̷̛͘͟.̸҉̸́1896

The Last Constable has returned. She is prepared to end it all. So am I, if with a slight reluctancy.



Seven burning candles. Whispers. Shallow breaths. More whispers, louder, louder, turning into screams. Teeth sinking deep into her flesh. Screams, her own.


Rebeka awoke, safe, in her bed. Hungry. In her nightgown she trudged towards the pantry, taking several sausages and a loaf of bread. She ate sitting at the edge of her bed, eyes towards her night stand. On it, several photographs - one of her and her father, one of R. and their father, and one of the Frogvarian ship. In front of the ship, a solemn figure. Frogvarian, he called himself. The Good Captain, they called him now. He had no name now- well, he has one, though it is hard to find. That is what she has to do, she knew. Well, it is the result of what she has to do, in any case.
There was also a calling card, white with pitch black pink and a heavy scent of lavender. &quotYou know where to find me&quot it said, and under the words a drawing of a person in a purple corset and a top hat.
[i]Oh, dear R., [/i]she thought, [i]What have they made you do? Am I not enough?[/i]


Breadcrumbs fell on the floor. Soon, she descended back to the night's welcoming terrors.
8

Hello! This would be Wensleydale. You’re referring to a Midnighter by the name Den Blackwell? (Begins chuckling) He was my patron, once, in shadowy lessons. Welp. I’m going to figure out how I should continue my story.

9

[quote=Frogvarian]2҉͘͟9̸̴̨̕͝.̕̕͝͞1̕̕͝1̨͜.҉̢1896

The Last Constable has returned. She is prepared to end it all. So am I, if with a slight reluctancy.[/quote]

God bless you. That story is irrepeatable, and will always end bittersweet, more bitter than sweet.

10

[quote=Sir Wensleydale of Hardwick][quote=Frogvarian]
̡͞2҉̵́5҉.̶̨̕1̷0̡͘͢.̴̢̧̀͢1897
A patron! A midnighter by the name of Blackwell reached out to me, willing to help my search and improve my capabilities. I believe this will be a fruitful relationship.
[/quote]

Hello! This would be Wensleydale. You’re referring to a Midnighter by the name Den Blackwell? (Begins chuckling) He was my patron, once, in shadowy lessons. Welp. I’m going to figure out how I should continue my story.[/quote]

What a coincidence! Quite a chap he is, Blackwell. I suppose I can see the boldness in you as well, dear Wensleydale. Very well! Here is to good tidings - and another edition of the Gazette today!

11

Good tidings to you too! (I have a newspaper in-game, and published just now. Hopefully I can get Defender of Truth sometime.)