(OOC: This is an origin story that I wrote for The Six Handed Merchant, covering their very non-standard background.
Be warned, this is a VERY SPOILER HEAVY story for my character. If you want to be pleasantly(?) surprised in roleplaying sessions with Six, either in-game or in the forums, please stop reading now.
Otherwise, I would love feedback! I based this off of lots of in-game content: the Wolfstack Docks storylines, the Honey-Addled Dectective storylines, the University storyline, the Silk-Clad Merchant storyline, HOJOTOHO, Memories of Mozart, The Candlefinder Society, and lots of Sunless Sea. So I hope I am not straying very far from canon here. And of course, enjoy!)
They Walk Among Us
The Honey-Addled Detective rests his head on his mantlepiece while staring into the fire. His eyes are far less weary than usual. One could make the mistake of imagining that the embers reflected in his eyes were the sparks of his old genius coming back to life.
âIt is quite elementary, my Implacable Detective, I assure you.â
âIs it now?â replies the Implacable Detective while scanning his bookcase. âItâs good to see you back in form, old friend, even if only for a momentâŚ.So tell me then, how did you know what he really was?â
âNot âheâ, my good detective, âtheyâ. â
âSo there was more than one?â
âTechnically, yes. But for all practical considerations letâs treat this case as involving a single individual. To be as accurate as possible, we will refer to this individual using the plural form of âtheyâ.â
The Implacable Detective pulls a small honey jar out from behind a book, sighs to herself, and pockets it. âWhatever you say, old friend. JustâŚpromise me this is not another theory about the upcoming honey bee revoltâŚagain.â
âJust humor me, detective, please.â the Honey-Addled Detective rolls his head on the mantlepiece to stare at the Implacable Detective, âNo matter how many honey jars you find, I can assure you that I am entirely sober and serious right now, and you should not waste it.â
âAs am I.â the Implacable Detective turns her sharp gaze to meet his, âSo tell me, what are âtheyâ, and what gave âthemâ away?â
âIt all started with their gloves. They were completely garish, impractical, and ill-fitting. Granted, that is to be expected from a Nocturnal Bohemian, but it was how the gloves failed to fit that caught my eye: the knuckle creases in their rainbow-dyed leather were all perfectly even. Normal human knuckles donât line up with each other.â
âMost of the time.â the Implacable Detective corrected.
âTrue. The gloves in and of themselves werenât enough to raise my suspicions. But the gloves combined with their red eyes were.
âA devil?â
âI donât think so. They lacked any trace of the sulfuric odours that typically linger about devils. That, and they werenât nearly condescending enough. And then there was the matter of their skin.â
âYou found a unique birthmark?â
âUnique, yes. They had fine scars, many of them, hidden behind their ears and in the creases of their joints.â
âBehind the ears?â the Implacable Detective frowned, âSounds like the Face-Tailorâs work.â
âOh, indeed it was. Quite a beautiful job too, they were very handsome. But it wasnât just the face. Judging from the preponderance of hairlike scars between their fingers, across their shoulders, and at the crook of their arms, I would surmise that they had new skin grafted over their entire body.â
âBut where would they have found that much skin?! Surely we would have heard if someone found the skinned body of a poor wretch wandering around London.â
âAh, but thatâs where they were clever. Or at least clever enough to slip by the Special Constables. They were still quite foolish by my standards, as their borrowed skin still retained the markings of its former owner.â
âDid you notice an old tattoo from their victim?â
âIn a way, yes. On the back of their left arm was the faintest trace of a watermark. It was the watermark of the Brass Embassy.â
The Implacable Detective, who had progressed her search to the contents of the Honey-Addled Detectiveâs desk, froze. Her face grew cold from the realization, âThey used expired infernal contracts!ââ
âPrecisely! The contracts are written on human skin, well oiled, and impeccably preserved. Gather enough expired contracts together, turn them over, and youâre bound to find enough clean, tattoo free skin to cover a body. And Iâm sure the Face-Tailor could be convinced to work from a blank canvas. I bet he enjoyed the challenge.â
âSo is the face tailor making whole bodies now?â
âNot likely. Granted, it would take a skilled surgeon or seamstress to join infernal contracts together with barely a visible seam, but the Face-Tailor wouldnât have overlooked the watermark. I believe they sewed the body on their own by adapting instructions from the Liber Visionis, the stretch marks on the skin are unmistakable. Then, while either wearing a mask or wrapping themselves up like a tomb-colonist, convinced the Face-Tailor to complete the work by making a brand new face from scratch.â
The Implacable Detective pocketed another jar of honey, âThat would give them a new skin, but what about their hair? Or are they walking around London looking like a plucked chicken?â
âOh, they had hair. That was my next clue: it was relatively short, green, and luxuriantly coiffed. And from the way it moved, I suspect that their hair was coming from their actual body, which had been slipped through meticulously-cut holes in their skin-suit.â
âAnd what does that tell us?â
âNothing by itself, but now letâs add what we know to my final clue: Before they arrived, I lit two dozen candles throughout my apartment, and they didnât touch a single one. They did, however, complain vociferously when a single drop of wax accidentally dripped onto their freshly-spun silk frock. Now, tell me, my Implacable Detective, what type of creature could pull off a roughly human shape, but would still be too hideous to walk about without a mask of skin? A creature that has green hair, red eyes, no fondness for candles, but the sewing skills of a master seamstress and is overly-protective of common spider silk?â
The Implacable Detective dropped the case notes that she was thumbing through and made for the door, âDear god, we have a spider-council on the loose, and a crafty one at that! I will alert the Department of Menace Eradication at once-â
âNow hold on for just a moment. There is one last detail that I left out: the spider-council sought me out for tutelage, and with my guidance they managed to solve several of my cold cases. It turns out that this particular council is a solid and reliable detective, if a bit too sentimental for my tastes.â
She stopped mid-stride, holding her coat and revolver. âSentimental? A spider-council?!â
âOh, yes indeed. Quite a shame, really. Their over-sentimentality clouded their judgement on a number of occasions.â
ââMy dear Honey-Addled Detective, are you seriously suggesting we just let a spider-counsel loose in London because it wants to fight crime?!â Her flinty stare was fixed on the Detective.
âSeems like a good enough reason to me.â
"You canât be serious!â
âOh but I am! And I assure you that I am utterly lucid when I say this: If we are to judge every individual guilty of the crimes of their society and kin, the how do you think you and I will fare from that same judgement?â
The Implacable Detective shot back without missing a beat, âThat depends on how many eyes they have taken.â
âNone, and Iâve done an exhaustive search. Moreover, they recently torched a chapel containing another spider-council that had stolen eyes from many a sailor at the docks. Now, do you still want to hand a nascent rebellion against Saviourâs Rocks over to the Department of Menace Eradication? Because if you do, youâd be doing The Lady at the Observatory a great service.â
The Implacable Detective gave the weary man a stunned look, âWellâŚthat does change the equation" She holstered her revolver and dropped her coat. "So what are they? An open rebellion against Saviourâs Rocks? Or the chitinous equivalent of the Young Stags Club out for a fratricidal lark while playing detective?â
âI am not sure, but I did discover a few more interesting tidbits about our arachnid ally just before you arrived: the spider-council has authored quite a few scandalous novels, is highly debauched even by Bohemian standards, andâŚas it turns outâŚwas an enthusiastic fundraiser for your mayoral campaign.
The Implacable Detectiveâs eyes grew wide, âWell, that is one political scandal I would have deeply resentedâŚAlthough if they campaigned for me, then I have a full record of their identity! I need to get back to the office. Now that I know what to look for, it will only take me a few hours to locate this radical spider-council of yours.â She paused while reaching for her coat. The Honey-Addled detective was scrutinizing her suspiciously. Even though it was directed at her, the Implacable Detective was glad to see that sharpness in his eyes again. âFine. I will only observe them. Perhaps I will take them under my wing like you did, test them with a few cases. As they say, keep your friends close, and your deluded monstrous allies even closer.â
âI am glad to hear it, my old friend. For there are far worse creatures preying upon London these days, and we need all the help we can get.â
âI suppose youâre right,â the Implacable Detective sighed while putting on her coat. What remained of the Honey-Addled Detectiveâs mind was still amazing to behold, but she doubted it would still be there in the morning. Then again, maybe she would be wrong this time. You could never be certain with him, about anything. âDo take care of yourself, Detective.â
âYou too.â the Honey-Addled Detective kept his head on the mantlepiece, watching a small house-spider tiptoe its way gingerly across the front of his hearth. âWhat a tangled web we weave.â