Your characters' appearances?

Fallen London
161

Gotthard Redlich
Gender: Male
Age: around 50

Height: about 6 feet / 1.8 meters
Build: slightly taller than what his belt was made for, although he maintains that this is mostly due to his muscles
Skin colour: white
Eye colour: brown
Hair colour: black, but getting ever greyer by the day
Hair style/quality: his hair is curly, but short
Usual clothing style: mostly plain worker’s clothes, though at social events he is still seen wearing his old captain lieutenant’s uniform
Usual demeanour: He still sees himself as a naval officer and acts accordingly. Although his military discipline does not extend to most of the Neath’s pleasures, he is deeply suspicious of prisoner’s honey. He has deep faith in his the values of his upbringing, his Prussian fatherland and Kaiser Wilhelm. When in big crowds and empty streets alike he always watches his back, thinking that ‘one of those tentacled monsters’ is out to get him.
Voice: very loud and not as deep as he would wish
Other things: A remarkable moustache. He always takes a gun (or, for that manner, a rifle) with him.

162

[color=#c2c2c2]Lily Valfross[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Gender: Female[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Race: Human[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Age: 33[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Height: 5’4&quot[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Build: Thin, but not excessively so[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Skin color: Coppery[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Eye color: Dull green[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Hair color: Extremely dark brown, darkening to black at the ends.[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Hair style/quality: Shoulder-length and curly.[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Usual clothing style: Lily can commonly be seen in Hell’s finest fashion, red silks with orange or yellow flare, form-fitting and lustrous. She is always wearing a plain brass band on her left ring finger, indicating her allegiance to the Devils of the Neath. She also carries with her a brass-plated leather briefcase at all times, as well as a Spirifier’s Fork tucked behind her right ear like a pen.[/color]
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[/color]
[color=#c2c2c2]Usual demeanor: She seems aloof and distant, but suddenly intense when discussing business. Lily has a soft spot for alcohol, but never seems to get drunk. Then again, she never seems to drink much once she gets started, either, as though she suddenly loses interest. If given a chance, she’ll attempt to convince you to sell your soul, a feat she considers easy.[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Voice: Her voice is entirely unremarkable in every way, neither high-pitched nor deep.[/color]
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[color=#c2c2c2]Other remarkable details: - Those who would know what to look for would notice that she lacks a soul.[/color]

163

Bertrand Lyndon

Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 32

Height: Average (about 1,70 – 1,72 m or 5’6’’)
Build: Sturdy, but not fat. Lyndon isn’t too tall, but he can be imposing. He’s rather muscular.
Skin color: Mediterranean (between white and olive, the skin color a Spanish or Italian man would have)
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Copper brown
Hair style/quality: Spiky, unkempt, short hair – like a porcupine’s quills.

Usual clothing style: Lyndon likes to dress inconspicuously, but he can play the part of the dapper gentleman reasonably well, if he has to – he just doesn’t like to do it. Most of the time he wears a thick, black duffel coat and a dark blue flat cap. The clothes under the coat may vary, but he likes to wear either shirts or sweaters. He always wears a pendant of the Cruz de Santiago around his neck. He wears boots, unless he is forced not to.

Usual demeanor: Acta, non verba (actions, not words) can be assumed to be Lyndon’s motto. He doesn’t speak much and he usually comes across as blunt and abrasive when he does. He has little respect for those who can’t look after themselves, and he’s usually distrustful of others. He does show respect for those who prove to be competent in fields he considers useful (even theoretical ones).

Voice: Baritone.

Other remarkable details:

  • He’s of mixed descent: his father was English, his mother from Gibraltar, making him half-Spanish.
  • He’s not a Roman Catholic; he wears the pendant because it was the last gift his mother gave him before her death.
    edited by Bertrand Lyndon on 4/7/2017
164

Fletcher Doyle
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 24

Height: Sometimes hard to judge considering the way he stoops to avoid braining himself on doorways and chandeliers and the like. In an effort to even remotely fit in, he’s often apologizing for all of his six foot seven inches with a perpetual, half-embarrassed, half-hearted shrug.
Build: A veritable daddy long legs; lanky, but lean thanks to Fletcher’s rather frustrated fencing instructor. Fletcher has all the makings of a good swordsman if only he’d apply real effort.

Skin color: Fair skinned, although he’s known to flush easily much to his chagrin.
Eyes: A bright and cheerful sky blue - not that he’s ever seen such a sight.
Hairstyle/quality: Curly, sandy blond, cut short and roguishly tousled just above the ear.

Usual clothing style: Colorful and ever changing with the latest fashion trends, Fletcher is a paragon of dandies and rather proud of it.
Usual demeanor: Genial and gregarious, Fletcher likes to think of himself as charismatic and personable. That often remains to be seen as he’s rather over-confident and sometimes lacks a certain sense of self-awareness when it comes to social blunders.

Voice: Tenor; a smooth drawl when he’s especially bored, and a rambling waterfall when he’s excited or nervous.
Other remarkable details: Outside of his height and his charming looks, Fletcher is remarkably unremarkable as far as dandies go.
edited by Fletcher Doyle on 10/26/2017

165

Maude Braun
Gender: &quotIt depends on the weather,&quot they say with a wink.
Race: Human or at least as human as one can be in the Neath
Age: Somewhere in their twenties

Height: Roughly 5’4&quot
Build: Fit but just a bit on the pudgy side. No discernible muscle definition despite their ferocity in a fist fight. Their soft appearance hides lean muscles underneath.

Skin tone: Pale pinkish with a heavy dusting of freckles everywhere
Eyes: Pale piercing green
Hair style/quality: Short messy auburn curls, looks almost as though they have persistent bedhead

Usual clothing style: Simple, usually blacks or browns with just a dash of color thrown in for variety, the kind of clothes that are easily repaired or replaced, always either wearing goggles, glasses, or their favorite red mask

Usual demeanor: In a word? Random. Maude never seems to have a plan and is often simply along for the ride. Their almost perpetually curious and confused state is often part of their charm. And they are very charming, flirtatious even. They tend to let embarrassments or insults roll off their back. Cockiness isn’t their problem. Their lack of concern for their own well-being is. They always love a good story.

Voice: In public, their voice as varied as their personality. From a high fluttery giggle to a deep soft murmur, Maude never seems to have the same voice twice. It’s only behind locked doors that anyone has heard their true voice.

Other remarkable details: &quotMildly&quot addicted to Prisoner’s Honey and always carries a spoon in their pocket. Just in case. Usually seen in Veilgarden with at least one of their associates or their pet weasel, Barnaby.

166

Azoth


Gender: Female, though she is familiar with disguising herself as a male.
Species: Homo sapiens
Race: Born of a Scottish father and Chinese mother
Age: 24

Height: 172 cm (~5’8&quot)

Eyes: At her first descent to London, they were as dark as the Neath itself. They, however, were changed with knowledge from the Liber Visionis. They are now heterochromatic, one a blue meant to evoke the sky itself and the other a green meant to remind her of the plants of the Surface, so that she may never forget these colours … at least, until she hears what the thunder says.

Hair: Straight, black hair, though it is usually concealed by a hood. She generally considers it a waste of time to style it and just lets it hang.

Usual Clothing Style: In public, she prefers to remain cloaked and hooded so as to avoid identification, and beneath her cloak, she conceals countless tools for observing the natural world, should something randomly strike her interest or some threat appear before her. She dresses far more for utility and comfort than for style.

Demeanor: Quiet and resolute. She prefers to observe rather than speak and keeps her cards close to her chest. A stoic to the core, she hides her inner fears and worries, as well as her hedonistic joys and pleasures. To her, she can still enjoy life without flaunting it, despite the melancholy that underlies her experiences, born from the murder of her lover and knowledge that returning to the Surface is nearly a death wish. This melancholy manifests every now and then, but she’s healing in the Neath, even if she avoids forming deep attachments.

Voice: She speaks softly and with a Scottish accent. Her singing voice is a contralto.


Other Remarkable Details: She is missing an index finger on her right hand, a fact that she doesn’t try to conceal. She never discusses how precisely this happened, but she has adapted to using her middle finger for most activities. She is often accompanied by a particularly shy kitten by the name of Bastet, a gift from her urchin acquaintances, who enjoys the pockets of her smock and sitting on her shoulder … though it might not have been wise to let it share a home with the Starveling Cat.

She also has an immense fear of death, even in the Neath, and has not visited the Boatman yet out of the vain and weak hope that she could maybe see the Surface again.

167

[b]Noah Rache

Gender: [/b]Male
Origin: English for all he knows, although the surname suggests German heritage
Age: 31
Height: 182
Eyes: Dark brown, with the tiniest streak of red
Hair: Black, neatly combed to one side like a good little schoolboy
Clothing: Respectable but cheap
Demeanor: Polite, reserved, a bit jumpy
Voice: Quiet, lower than one would expect, but reaches some rather high notes when screaming
Remarkable features: None, whatsoever. This has been carefully made so.

A picture is worth a thousand words:
http://imgur.com/a/OjOlg
edited by John Moose on 3/13/2017

168

I might as well get in on the game.


Prof. Sian Kan

Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: Most of his acquaintances guess he’s around thirty. He’s not telling.

Height: Slightly over average
Build: Slight, but toned - a racer’s body.

Skin color: Reddish-brown, the color you get when your ancestry mixes continents with abandon
Eye color: Brown
Hair color: Black
Hair style/quality: Not too close-cropped, but short enough to be out of the way. Impeccably combed when seeing and being seen in London; ignored entirely when on business or out to Zee.

Usual clothing style: Prof. Kan often wears his academic robes and a monocle when on business. When out for pleasure (or another kind of business), his suits are expertly tailored and memorable for taste rather than novelty. He has a bit of a leaning toward Spanish black (that is, solid black with red accents), and also damask waistcoats.

Usual demeanor: In public, Prof. Kan is quiet, attentive, and self-controlled. He prefers to watch and listen; it is his policy to speak only when necessary, so that his words will have the most impact. (&quotYou do not learn,&quot he likes to say, &quotwhen you hear yourself first.&quot) He is, however, an active listener, and he will laugh at all your jokes and smile in all the right places. At home among friends he is more relaxed, and his observation skills have given him a knack for putting guests at ease: just the right relaxation of propriety and personal space (neither of which he cares much about) to lower barriers without seeming forward. In either place, he is self-possessed, comfortable in any company, and absolutely never drunk.


Voice: A warm baritone. The accent is hard to place: British overtones with… something else underneath.

Other remarkable details: Prof. Kan is usually accompanied by one of his friends or companions, most commonly his secretary Ondine. (She has the looks of Veilgarden and the intellect of a Benthic researcher. Cross at your peril.) If he is alone, he probably wants to stay that way, and you are highly unlikely to notice him.

Edacio del Norte

Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: He’s says he’s 24. He’s probably lying, but he’s certainly old enough for a five o’clock shadow.

Height: Notably on the short side
Build: Not quite scrawny, but his body shows little evidence of either muscle or fat.

Skin color: Medium, Mediterranean tones
Eye color: Brown
Hair color: Also brown
Hair style/quality: An unruly mop, usually kept in the &quotI just got out of bed&quot style. He’s got the charm and chutzpah to pull it off, however.


Usual clothing style: Edacio likes to be flashy in his clothing, wearing unnecessarily fine and attention-getting clothes even for a trip to the greengrocer’s. (This is partly because he likes flash, and partly as a smokescreen for situations requiring more… delicate choices in attire.)

Usual demeanor: When you see him, Edacio is usually in the center of the group. If you’re the one he’s paying attention to, he’s enthralling, leaving you little room to think about anything else. If you’re not, however, he will probably ignore you into non-existence.

Voice: Silky and rich, if a bit higher than he’d like.

Other remarkable details: Edacio has the wit and the allure to charm anyone. Once he’s done with you, however, he’s done, and he’s left a string of broken hearts and broken promises all the way from Veilgarden to the Surface. Frankly, whether in Veilgarden or Wilmot’s End, Edacio is playing a game, and everyone in London is one of his pieces. His only obsession lies in those he has proven unable to charm.

(Note: I wanted someone I could happily send North, so I created Edacio as a sociopath. He’s reckless, he cares for nobody and no one [probably including himself], and the only self-control he applies is when he’s trying to manipulate a pawn. I don’t play him entirely to type, because I’m not going to be a jerk to other players, but if for any reason you must do horrible things to another PC, you are welcome to do them to him.)
edited by Siankan on 3/14/2017

169

Charlotte Frye

Gender: Female
Race: Mostly human
Age: Early thirties
Referred to As: Captain

Height: Unfashionably tall for a woman
Build: Muscular yet lithe
Skin tone: Fair, from a combination of birth and her subterranean circumstance
Eyes: Peligin
Hair style/quality: Her dark hair is often kept in a sloppy bun as to not impede her more martial pursuits. However, she is not adverse to proper grooming for more high society events.

Usual clothing style: Despite her wealth, or perhaps in spite of it, she often favors bridge coats, dressing as if she is perpetually at zee. During formal events, she may don expensive dress and adornment, yet it gives the impression of a lion in a smoking jacket: distinctly unnerving and inarguably out of place.

Usual demeanor: She has a remarkable talent to make the most innocuous statement or request sound like a thinly-veiled threat. With her peligin eyes, clay arm and a facial scar, she gives off an aura of violence. It’s whispered her ruthlessness must be a facade, for no one could truly be so cruel. There is a reason it is whispered. She loves to be in control of a situation and has a terrible habit of asserting herself into positions of authority for nothing more than the power. Treats superiors with suspicion, peers with competition, and subordinates with a mix apathy or interest. Though she takes lovers, it’s said that the only being she’s ever shown anything approaching love to was herself wrought in lacre. It’s passing was the only time she has reacted to loss with melancholy instead of violence.

Voice: Too rough to be sultry, yet too sensual to be gruff. Perhaps a voice like that of a particularly sensuous zailor. She often speaks in low tones, fluctuating between conspiratorial and predatorial. In times of turmoil or passion, she adopts the dialect of the zee, barking orders as if she was still on her ship.

Other remarkable details:
Deep in her cups among close friends, she may reveal that she is Illegitimately Royal, the child of a Tsar of Russia and a commoner. Her father sent her away to England with a humble country manor and Russian tutors when she was a child. Thus, despite spending the vast majority of her life in England, she still has a small lilt of Crimea to her speech.
A tattoo of a zee monster adorns her right arm, which she makes no attempt at hiding, especially at formal events.
Her left arm has been replaced with a clay one, in which she occasionally amuses herself and unnerves guests by crushing wine bottles with.

170

Phiri Ulfur, my lovely main. This is such a great thread!

Gender: Gender? My dear, there are people walking about Fallen London who wear hats of metal and consort with devils. Does my gender really seem to have that much meaning to you in the grand scheme of things?
Race: Human
Age: Around 20ish
Height: 5’5"
Build: Pretty thin, barely a curve to suggest womanhood but the suit and short hair might say otherwise.
Skin color: Fair, but soft like tea with just too much milk
Eye color: Orange-hazel
Hair color: Reddish brown to perhaps suggest Irish heritage.
Hair style/quality: Very short, but with obvious curls that do not cooperate with their efforts to tame them
Usual clothing style: A mixture of very crisp, clean suits and severe gowns. Hats that have a wide brim to shade their eyes. Sturdy boots. They wear a black glass bottle tied close around their neck with a red ribbon, it’s said they keep their secrets there.
Usual demeanor: Serious and sometimes distant, always mysterious. They care deeply for the downtrodden. At social events, especially ones with the right kind of wine, they sometimes reveal a manic energetic side and will talk ceaselessly about speculations and rumors.
Voice: Smooth and dark, usually quiet but can carry a lot of force even at a low volume.
Other remarkable details: Has a tattoo of a faceted jewel on their left shoulder blade. They also have a long, deep scar down their torso that they say is from fighting in the Rings but almost everyone knows that it was probably the Black Ribbon. They don’t reveal everything about themself to any one person at a time. One of the most surprising things that people learn about them is that they are closest to urchins, often bringing them little gifts and hiding them from the constabulary.

171

Oh, this is always my favorite part of the campaign. Which annoys my GMs, who like to have the campaign last more then one session.

Professor Hieronymus Drake gives the impression of being a tall, thin man. This is to some extent an illusion. His height is exaggerated by excellent posture; the breadth of his shoulders and the thickness of his arms are disguised by excellent tailoring.

His hair is thick and collar-length. His moustache and beard are well-groomed. All are salt-and-pepper, black mixed with white. He could be a hard-worn thirty or an exceptionally fit forty-five.

A long scar runs along his the left side of his face, from forehead to jaw. His left eye is generally covered by an elaborately reinforced monocle, giving rise to rumors that the monocle is an artificial replacement for a ruined eye. Drake neither confirms nor denies these rumors.

His visible eye is an eerie color somehow darker than black: the Peligin of the depths of the Unterzee.

Professor Drake is proud of his University robes and his Dilmun Club pin. When he travels to visit friends and allies, he usually wears these, and brings along Sophie, a brilliantly gleaming white Raven. When he’s going to the Docks, or expecting trouble, he wears a protective suit of his own design, fashioned from the chitin of Zee-monsters, and goes armed to the teeth. He carries a bone harpoon which seems to move of its own accord. He uses this not only as a weapon, but as a sort of antenna which senses the life-force around him. On these occasions, scouting and fire support are provided by a Scuttering Squad which Drake has nicknamed The Feegles.

Although he makes no claim to a title, Drake has the accent, habits and manners of the old-fashioned aristocrat. He displays all the virtues and vices of that breed. He is courageous, loyal, magnanimous, and courteous. He is unfailingly honorable, but honor is not the same thing as virtue. He does not trust others quickly, but once granted, his trust is absolute. Yet Drake can be haughty and self-centered. He’s moody, swinging from merriment to melancholy rapidly and often unpredictably. He drinks too much, resorts to violence too quickly, and most of his servants are rats because he treats them better than he does humans.

With a knife-fighter’s face and an earl’s manners, Drake doesn’t quite fit in anywhere, except perhaps Wolfstack Docks, where the ghost of the old Navy lingers. At the University and at Watchmaker’s Hill, he’s regarded with a certain pride as a local eccentric - &quotthe pugilistic professor.&quot At Court he is respected but not liked. In Spite, the general view is that he always thought he was above the place. This opinion is based more on his accent than on his actions, but there is some justice to it.
edited by Aberrant Eremite on 4/16/2017

172

A while back I posted a reply on this thread about my main character’s (Mr. Hamilton) appearance. I decided to make one about my alt (George Albany) who I barely ever use.

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Age: 39

Height: Tall, about six foot

Build: Very muscular from being a sailor (don’t worry, I’m not making a mistake by saying sailor instead of zailor because he was only a sailor on the surface)

Skin color: Light brown

Eye color: Blue-green

Hair color: Dark brown, almost black

Hair style/quality: Short, swept to the side.

Usual clothing style: Zailor style

Usual demeanor: Friendly once you get to know him but very serious when you don’t.

Voice: Low and gruff


edited by Mr. Hamilton on 3/25/2017

173

Lucy van Helsing has a prototype; I didn’t even change the name. Thus, curly hair, fair but reddish, grey-blue eyes, average constitution, intensely dark lips and hiding her neck most of the time.
And then, there is the skin-bound memory, the tattoo made by Millicent’s tender hands, the only detail that I see clearly and love a lot. It’s the Sun — a colourful picture of sunset over sea, covering Lucy’s whole back. Not to be seen most of the time, but when she chooses to wear an awfully scandalous dress that opens her back — and she’s just the type of person who enjoys a bit of scandal — well, the view is something to admire.

174

Mother of Pigeons (real name unknown to masses)

Gender: Female
Race: Human
Origin: Welsh
Age: 20

Height: 5’2’’-5’4’’
Build: Slim, not skinny and not really curvy
Skin color: healthy, slightly tanned - another sign of a not-so-distant Surface past
Eye color: Dark green
Hair color: Reddish-brown
Hair style/quality: Wavy, medium length; usually tied up, with some curls around the face

Usual clothing style: Simple yet elegant clothes, like aristocratic gowns and long cloaks. Favourite colors are grey, red, peach and green.
Other remarkable details:

  • some light freckles on the face
  • often appears with animals: mostly a salt weasel, a raven or a parabolan kitten
  • wears a boutonnière of Surface leaves
    Usual demeanor: the lady is lively, but not fidgety. Always kind to friends, animals and children, almost always friendly and charming with people (especially young, sweet and naïve girls)… but well, she can be really ruthless and cruel when necessary – for example, with her rivals. Also she may act kind of creepy when it comes to the most appaling secrets of the Neath.
    Voice: Mezzosoprano; usually soft as velvet, sometimes sharp as a knife.

New pictures, made with Rinmaru Haunted Portrait creator and Victorian Butterfly dress up game.

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edited by motherofpigeons on 5/30/2017

175

Tanith Wyrmwood is young - perhaps twenty - and tiny - perhaps a hundred pounds. She’s lean rather than slender. With ivory skin, liquid black eyes, and an aquiline nose, she has a certain Levantine look, but she could perhaps be a Mestiza from the Americas. Her hair, which she used to bleach and bob, has returned to its natural black and grown out to middle length.

Tanith is popular among the Bohemians, but her manners are not quite fine enough for Court. Her accent is Veilgarden at best, and slides rapidly towards Spite whenever she gets excited. Which is frequently. She’s never quite still; she’s easily bored, distracted, or discouraged. She talks too much and you can read her face like a book. A book with short words in large print. She drinks too much coffee with too many sugars. Also too much wine with too much honey.

Although Tanith has expensive gowns, she dislikes most of them. The exception is her Parabola-Linen Frock: not only does it breathe better than most fabrics, its Irrigo hue makes her easy to overlook. This comes in handy when her old Spite habits take over and she absent-mindedly pilfers small objects. However, she still prefers her scarlet dress with the short skirt and the corset: it allows greater freedom of movement, the corset is stiff enough to stop a knife-thrust while also creating the illusion of cleavage, and the color covers bloodstains nicely.

Tanith is friendly, loyal, honest, and charming. She’s excellent company. Except that she just never shuts up. And she discusses the most indelicate matters, even when children and matrons are present. And she may be a bit too honest sometimes. Well , &quothonest&quot as in “blunt,” anyway. There is some possibility that she might accidentally take your watch. Old habits die hard, and she was often hungry as a child.
edited by Aberrant Eremite on 11/8/2017

176

To remember what was, as insurance against future trips to the Na-
In memory of a lost soul, given in service to Empress and Empire.

Thurman Credge
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: Old enough to have seen it all, young enough to get in the thick of things.

Height: Tall. An ex-grenadier, with all the physique required for the job.
Build: Mountainous, but within the bounds of possibility.

Skin color: On the tanned side of white, from a long series of campaigns. Gradually growing paler as the years and scars pile up. Black veins are visible in the thinner areas of skin.
Eye color: Black as the dark of the zee, flecked with the grey of storms.
Hair color: Pelegin. As it turns out zee monster flesh has a lot of Pelegin in it.
Hair style: Close-cropped and trimmed in the military style.
Usual clothing: A suit, cut in the military style. He might not be part of the Army, but he’s d*** well going to look like he does! When he’s out fighting wrongdoers, being a wrongdoer, or stabbing gribbly things, a suit of Khanate plate, fashioned in the usual style.
Usual demeanor: Blunt, aggressive, and straightforward. On the Surface, Credge wasn’t known for his mastery of subtlety, but his time in the Neath has rounded him, albeit only slightly. Always willing to join a fight, and usually prepared to start one.
Voice: Baritone.

Other remarkable details: Credge is almost always at least slightly wounded, and a network of scars, both intentional and incidental, crisscrosses his body. Usually armed with a long bone harpoon which drinks the screams of those it kills.

His lodgings are registered to a nonsense pseudoname, allegedly chosen because he wasn’t thinking about it at the time.
edited by Lollerisms on 4/15/2017
edited by Lollerisms on 4/15/2017

177




Scarlet Bronte is a young lady in her early twenties, though she has passed for much younger and older when it suited her whims.
Her petite stature and soft curves paired with her often innocent demeanor give most the impression that she is a delicate little thing, though when you get to know her she is anything but.


When the sun kisses her skin, her heart-shaped face has a smattering of freckles. Since she’s moved underground, her already fair skin has become almost porcelain. Her hair has similarly faded from an intense red that shone like rostygold to a deep auburn. She often wears her long, wavy hair down and wrapped around her body like a protective blanket. She often plays with it when she pretends to think no one is looking.


She knows the power of the right outfit, and prides herself on being able to dress for any occasion, whether it’s hobnobbing with high society or knocking back a few pints with her Zailor acquaintances. The pride of her wardrobe is her elegant blue dress. When she dons this she knows she could charm the masters themselves into believing just about anything.


She’s sometimes just a bit too clever for her own good. She prides her wit above almost all else and loves nothing more than to command a room with her quick barbs and cheeky commentary. She plays her cards close to her chest and flashes from feigned innocence to shameless flirtation at the drop of a hat. Her command of such rooms is almost always bolstered by her twinkling slate blue eyes, rosebud lips and effervescent laughter. When in polite company, she uses a light, airy voice. When she’s more comfortable, her voice relaxes into a huskier tone.


When asked about her heritage, she rarely gives a straight answer, though many among society swear she is related to that one Duke or a Lady they can’t quite recall but are certain is reputable. She has a soft spot for weasels, a fact that has not escaped her many suitors, which has resulted in her amassing quite the collection of furry friends. She calls this collection &quotThe Plucky Platoon&quot and is more than happy to escape her societal obligations for an evening in their company. She strives to be calculated, though she is given to impulse when she sees adventure on the horizon.

178

An excerpt of a letter by Mr Sutterfield to his sister:

[i]You asked about Mlle Cosette des Fleurs; my first impression of her was … insubstantial. Which is an unusual thing to say about a woman easily a head taller than me, but there you are. She is certainly over six feet in height, is slender as a willow sapling, and moves with feline grace. It is her colour, however, that truly made me think ‘insubstantial’—almost wraith-like is how I would describe it. Her skin is like new snow (you remember snow, don’t you?), her hair is fine and blonde and her lips are rosé. Only her eyes flash real colour, and these are almost unavoidable in their intensity of ice blue.

So much for her appearance. In conversation, her voice is a quiet contralto—very pleasing, in fact—but her topics of conversation baffle me. I must own that I had a terribly difficult time following her … there was something about the rites of Sappho; a story by Le Fanu that apparently has many fine points but also many inaccuracies and—in her words—‘une fin triste et horrible;’ and the great aesthetic pleasure derived from fine neck lines. Make of it what you will. Oh yes—and, improbable as it seems—she is something of a hunter, if my understanding is correct.
[/i]

179

Well since i’ve made a new character, both for RP purposes and game purposes i’ll post their appearance now too.
Name: Jimmy Casket
Gender: Male? Female? Indistinct
Race: Human
Age: 26
height: 6’1
build: Athletic
Skin color: Caucasian
eye color: red
hair color: dark brown
hair style: messy
clothing: He commonly wears a brown cloak, simple pants, and sometimes no shoes. Often covered in blood he is commonly seen carrying a knife, typically a bloody knife.
Demeanor: Jimmy is insane, and yet he does have moments of calm. Upon arriving in the neath he realized he had one goal. find the jack of smiles. Jimmy tends to stab those who get close to him, and if he’s nice to you that usually means he is planning something. He’ll stab anything and anyone.

180

Name: Jonathan Dunn
Gender: Male
Race: Though many would call him a Devil, he’s Human as Sin.
Age: Unknown.
Height: 6’1.5
Build: Gangly, and he seems to be slouching even when he isn’t.
Skin Color: Bone hue, although not much skin is seen.
Eye Color: There’s a Diabolical fire in the void there, best not to look too closely. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, whatever is behind those windows is best avoided.
Hair color: Blacker than should be possible, although the hat hides most of it.
Hair style: Cut short by well-honed sheers, it still curls.
Clothing: He wears the suit well even though it is cut for comfort rather than style. Smoked Spectacles obscure his eyes, his scarf does little to hide his smile, and the hats he loves tend to be a bit…strange. His gloves are of curious material. Jack-of-Smiles seems to claim more victims than usual shortly before he gets a new pair.
Demeanor: Jonathan is affable, talkative, and treats his friends well. His enemies don’t tend to live long after he makes them but will be treated with as much charm as they deserve.
Actions: Jonathan loves being in control and has no qualms about throwing an ally to the wolves (figurative or literal) if he’ll get a better deal out of it. Power is more intoxicating than wine and pursuing it often leads to a good time. Just don’t insult him. His memory is long and his reach is longer. He is currently heavily involved with London’s Criminal element and Hell (residing in A Sanctum at the Brass Embassy) the Docks fear and respect him for his relationship with Mr. Fires, and he is in Society’s good graces. Control isn’t all in connections though, and Jonathan is amassing personal power as well.