I know we’ve had this on Twitter not too long ago, but I thought the Forum could do with an ongoing poll… plus, I’ve been wanting to compile all information on the Masters in a single thread for a long time. ;-)
Note: It is, of course, not possible to vote for Mr Eaten. This should not need to be explained.
Mr Apples - Fruits, bread, vegetables, barley, horse mushrooms and so forth… Immortality.
This upstanding citizen governs commerce in food, wood and immortality. They say it’s an ally of Mr Veils. They say Mr Apples was Mr Barley once.
Certain of the Masters of the Bazaar - Mr Stones, Mr Apples and Mr Wines, and possibly others - seem to have a particular contempt for Egypt and the Egyptological.
Mr Apples operates under many names; in all cases with honesty, economy and efficiency!
"Honesty! Not a speciality of mine, I’m afraid."
Mr Apples keeps a Majestic Pleasure Yacht where it likes to play an Oriental game, much like rummy, but with tiles. Four players. The price for a seat is eye-watering.
Mr Apples can sometimes be met at Mrs Plenty’s Carnival, in a very jolly mood, providing very unreliable gossip.
Mr Apples has a secret identity.
Mr Chimes - Welcome, my O so toothsome ones, to the House of Chimes.
Mr Chimes only deals with the most Exceptional of friends. The well-Fated may find their way into the House of Chimes. Be careful, it is not unknown for an individual to have an amazing time and end up gambling away his or her entire fortune.
Mr Chimes allows entry only to those of very particular trades or natures. It might deny a marquis a seat, unless the marquis has a club foot. It might slam the door in the face of the most noted actress, unless she is named for a particular saint.
In an old tower, there is a stopped clock. Within the clock there is a Bell. The Bell is not to be named. Those who feast beneath it, in the House of Chimes, are not to be denied.
The House of Chimes - Those favoured by Mr Chimes meet here, beneath a great and nameless Bell in a leaning clock-tower, the lights of London glittering at their feet like stolen souls.
Note: a current theory is that all the Masters take turns playing ‘Mr Chimes’
Mr Cups - Crockery, pottery, sculpture. The frangible and the fine.
Never mention the Second City to the Masters of the Bazaar. Mr Cups will fly into a rage.
Mr Cups does most of its public dealings through the Relickers and their rat companions. Scraps are all one needs to get their attention. It is also rumored it deals in… toys, or something stranger?
Mr Cups and Mr Iron were very interested in the Watchmaker’s Daughter. The Albino Rat believes that these two Masters wanted to own her.
Visit Mr. Cups’ Splendid Commemorative Ceramics at The Bazaar’s Emporium of Educational Curiosities!
Mr Cups has a secret identity.
Mr Fires - Coal, gas, candles. Warm yourself.
Mr Fires, who governs trade in coal, keeps its office at Wolfstack Docks among the warehouses and rowdy dockside pubs.
The British Empire last used press gangs in the dark days when Napoleon prowled the continent. Then they abolished them. Mr Fires rather likes the idea though. Indeed, one should note that Mr Fires especially likes London.
Mr Fires seems to be one of the more unpleasant Masters. It employs especially brutal Neddy Men to deal with dockworkers’ strikes. Its offices and warehouses are often the targets of revolutionaries’ bombings.
"In my experience there’s nothing that cannot be deduced with a big enough stick."
Mr Hearts - Delicious meats, bloods, puddings, joints, chops, sausages. And so forth.
The aficionados of bridge claim to play with Mr Hearts every other Thursday, but they’re probably lying.
Mr Hearts is probably enjoying some very special meals in the deeper coils of the Labyrinth of Tigers…
Mr Hearts’ Devilled Hearts, swathed in mustard and Oriental peppers, can be bought at Mrs Plenty’s Carnival during the Feast of the Exceptional Rose.
Mr. Hearts’ Exotic Meats Counter occupies a dark corner of the Emporium for good reason. Warning: entering Mr. Hearts’ shop is not for the faint-hearted. In fact, it is not to be advised in general. You will leave hungrier than you enter.
Mr Hearts has a secret identity.
Mr Iron - [Tools, weapons, engines. Adjudicator of the Game-of-Knife-and-Candle.]
Tools, printing-presses, guns, steam-engines: taxes from trade in these are payable to Mr Iron. They say it never speaks, but can write with both hands simultaneously. Certainly Mr Iron used to trade as Mr Bronze.
Never mention the Second City to the Masters of the Bazaar. Mr Iron will say nothing, only write down your name with its left hand.
Mr Cups and Mr Iron were very interested in the Watchmaker’s Daughter. The Albino Rat believes that these two Masters wanted to own her.
Meeting Mr Iron at Mrs Plenty’s Carnival is very unfortunate.
Mr Mirrors - The frangible and the fine!
They say it’s Mr Cups’ reflection. Trades in glass and in quality secrets. Apparently has its own list of Reliables. Vehemently denies any connection to the House of Mirrors.
Mr Mirrors has a secret identity.
Mr Pages - You want to write it down, eh? You want to talk to me, then. You want to talk to me anyway. I can help.
Mr Pages keeps many lists. One such list are the Reliables. If you are bright enough, it may find you.
Mr Pages runs the Ministry of Public Decency. It has announced a campaign to recover and sequester what it describes as ‘pestilent and obstacudent’ literature. Whether for destruction or private reading is not made explicit.
Visit Mr. Pages’ Educational Picture Postcards and Assorted Souvenir Stationery at The Bazaar’s Emporium of Educational Curiosities!
Mr Sacks - Ahahaha. Excuse me. I do beg your pardon. ‘Ho ho ho.’
How many people did Mr Sacks put in his bag?
Has been called a ‘charlatan’ by Mr Spices. But who hasn’t?
Mr Spices - Purveyor of spices and sweet smokes. The only reliable source for dreams. Do not accept imitations.
Mr Spices is the only legal provider for Dreams in Fallen London (though Mr Wines might challenge this). Notoriously bad-tempered.
A keen buyer of Touching Love Stories. Apparently has its office in Hollow Street. The drugging of the Stone Pigs seems to fall into its department.
"I would characterise myself and Mr Veils as ‘lovely’. I would characterise Mr Wines as ‘sometimes unobjectionable’."
Mr Stones - Jewels. Quarrystone. Salt. Blasting Powder. Enough.
Mr Stones was trading as Mr Marble quite recently. Until that trouble with the tomb-colonies.
Certain of the Masters of the Bazaar - Mr Stones, Mr Apples and Mr Wines, and possibly others - seem to have a particular contempt for Egypt and the Egyptological.
Concerning verbosity, Mr Stones can be seen as quite the opposite of Mr Pages. "Buying or chatting?"
Mr Stones is the original owner of a certain mysterious box.
Visit Mr. Stones’ Exquisite Gifts and Luxuries at The Bazaar’s Emporium of Educational Curiosities! The prices are monstrously expensive.
Mr Veils.
Mr Veils deals with clothing and fabric, and takes a close interest in the silk-weavers of Spite. But not in any of the more dubious activities in the district of Spite! The mere suggestion is slander!
Never mention the Second City to the Masters of the Bazaar. Mr Veils will harangue you for your discourtesy.
Mr. Veils provides a generous endowment to the Royal Bethlehem, to care for the poor souls suffering from a particular affliction of bad dreams.
Visit Mr. Veils’ LUXURY SILKS and TAILORED VESTMENTS at The Bazaar’s Emporium of Educational Curiosities!
Mr Veils has a secret identity.
Mr Wines - Purveyor of all that is drinkable. And certain other services. The only true merchant of dreams!
Trade in anything drinkable comes under the jurisdiction of Mr Wines. Though it can’t be bothered with water. Entertainment, music and the business of the ladies of the evening are also its domain. There’s supposed to be some sort of dispute about dreams. Proprietor of infamous revels. The most jolly and festive of the Masters. Proprietor of the Parlour of Virtue.
Never mention the Second City to the Masters of the Bazaar. Mr Wines will look at you narrowly and give you its worst vintage.
Mr Spices once called the Eater-of-Chains ‘the result of an oneiromantic experiment that went a tad awry.’
edited by Rupho Schartenhauer on 6/13/2016