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(This is a general dump for pro-Feducci RP stuff. It's also, of course, the ideal place for throwing in your disruptive anti-Feducci propaganda...)

E. M. Canning, the Radical Esotericist, has quickly established herself as one of the foremost campaigners on Feducci's behalf. She is a force to be reckoned with: one of London's "scarlet saints", she is on equally good terms with both the Church (well, its more progressive representatives, at least) and the Brass Embassy. She supported the Contrarian in 1894, and seems to particularly target her efforts at the more liberal and progressive among London's citizenry, as well as stirring up those who do not take a great interest in politics and might otherwise not vote at all.

You arrive at the campaign headquarters just as she is speaking in front of a diverse-looking crowd, some of which seem seriously interested, while others are passers-by with nothing better to do.

"... so we have one candidate who wants to wage a war on drugs, and one who wants to wage a war on criminals. These policies have never in the history of mankind achieved anything but to actually strengthen the elements they're proposedly fighting. Delicious friends, London is in great danger: we cannot allow our city to fall prey to misguided zealots who see nothing but their personal crusade!

"I have some respect for the Implacable Detective's work, but her allies in this campaign I cannot condone. I see my esteemed colleagues from Summerset waving flags for her. I'm not surprised, not at all. All these dusty old fudgers want is for every dissenting voice to be silenced, so they can go on pretending it's still 1866. Many are from the departments of "Criminal Rehabilitation & Eradication" and "Phrenology & Applied Cranial Exploration". They don't want to see criminals as human beings who might be victims of their social circumstances—they just want more test subjects..."

(Some outraged whistles and boos, mostly by citizens who quite certainly did not understand any of the words in the department names.)

"And then, of course, our noble constabulary, this cesspit of corruption... well, if that is the spirit of her campaign, I shudder at the thought of what life under such a mayor would be like. I'd rather have the Liberation of Night than that!"

(That mention gains some shouts of support and protest both, but most onlookers seem completely puzzled by the term. Two gentlemen taking notes are very obviously from the Ministry of Public Decency.)

"Now, I can't bring myself to say anything improper about the Dauntless Temperance Campaigner. She's a dear old thing, and I don't doubt that she means well. However, well-meaning naïveté has no place in politics. Also, consider this: where will she stop? This woman has dedicated her life to fighting 'sin'. After honey and alcohol, what will be next?"

She proceeds to quote an already very popular poem by the enigmatic Self-Appointed Laureate:

It's the campaign that sustains her, she knows nothing else
And when the gin and the honey is cleaned off our shelves
You can be sure she'll find something else that's a sin;
She's the Temperance Campaigner, she likes to fight, not to win.

"I think that sums it up rather nicely," she says with a smirk. She does not, noticeably, quote the same poet's work about her own candidate.

"Mr Feducci's a well-connected gentleman who will be able to balance the interests of all citizens of the Neath. I hear patriots grumbling about him not being a 'true' Londoner; about his close ties with the Brass Embassy. I say to them: all well and good! A more diplomatic approach in our foreign affairs certainly won't do us any harm..."

At this point her daughter, E. L., says aside to you, making you lose track of the speech: "And for those of us with no interest in bloody politics at all, at least Feducci is guaranteed to be the most interesting candidate—because nobody really knows what he's actually gonna do." She shrugs and grins mischievously. "There's one thing I'm sure about with him as mayor: it won't be a boring year for London. Bold, daring and brazen - sounds like my kind of crowd. And how bad can it get anyway? Certainly not worse than with those other killjoys!"
edited by phryne on 6/26/2017

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A Dimness
A Dimness
Posts: 613

A cannily dressed man on the edge of the crowd raises his hands to his mouth to shout,
"You mean those same savages that are trying to destroy Port Carnelian!?"
and disappears into the mass quickly.
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 6/29/2017

A truth so strange it can only be lied into existence
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Posts: 187

"zorgan steps into the hall and finds a dark corner to him self and when he feels satisfied that nobody is aware of him he simply waits for the radical Esotericist to continue.....after a significant amount of time zorgan realises that the radical Esotericist has been standing in the same spot with the same dreamy eyed look on her face the whole time.
zorgan then proceeds to whisper to a black raven something unfathomable to anybody but him and varys the said raven.
then when zorgan is finished the raven looks at him and then the esorericist and nods.
after which he takes of far to high up in the hall for anybody not examine the ceiling to notice and then proceeds to navigate the back of the hall in such a way that he is unnoticed in till he finds the floor from there he silently walks over to the back of podium from which the Esotericist is standing and proceeds to give the Esotericists trouser a sharp peck"
edited by crazyroosterman on 7/8/2017

  • edited by crazyroosterman on 7/8/2017
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    Posts: 245

    Lady Vena Delacroix, the Sly Socialite, is another of Feducci's supporters. But unlike the scarlet saints like the Radical Esotericist, her presence in this election has been very subtle. She is one of Fedduci's more conniving fixers and lets her influence be felt covertly from behind the scenes, a role she plays with the talent of an born actor and leaves the honest campaigning to her more earnest colleagues.
    As a 'petal' she fondly supported Jenny in the last election, so it might seem strange to some that why she now supports Feducci with Jenny now opposing his bid for the seat as mayor. But the Sly Socialite was never one to let past affiliations stand in the way of her ambition and as someone fascinated by the Presbyterate and a close acquaintance of the denizens of Hell, she was quick to lend her support to the master of the Black Ribbon.

    Now, with the election edging towards its conclusion she is diligently at work with the finishing touches.
    As the Radical Esotericist is spreading her rousing demagoguery and rationale rhetoric to great effect, an alluring young woman with green eyes can be glimpsed passing through the crowd. She slips gracefully between the spectators, sharing charming smiles and confident nods with her fellow supports and whispering sweetly envenomed threats in the ears of her detractors. Her most prominent targets are the undecided voters and doubtful rivals, with whom she exchange honeyed promises preying on their greed and ambition or soothing potential fears.
    Those keen of ear passing by might catch hints of whispered conversation.

    "...of course he is going to win, my dear. This is all staged, and the Detective and the Campaigner gave up midways. They are staying to save face when Feducci comes out as the victor and so that it looks like it was a close run."

    "...you remember you promise, Lieutenant? Your men are to vote for Feducci and when he wins it will be assured that your next posting will be to Port Carnelian where friends of our new mayor will be treated with the respect and benefits that they are due."

    "...they told you that the Campaigner is only interested in temperance? My dear friend, I heard from a very reliable source working in her office that if she gets elected it won't be long before there is no honey left on the market at all. How will you survive without the inspiration for your poetry and commissions? You would have to either abstain and starve your ideas or become indebted to the Cheery Man to bring you your artistic dreams."

    As she passes E.L. she whispers in her ear. "Give my regards to your mother, she really knows how to draw an impassioned crowd. Fingers crossed that this will be quite the exciting year indeed."

    Vena's profile - http://fallenlondon.com/Profile/Akernis
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    Drake Dynamo
    Drake Dynamo
    Posts: 402

    There is a loud cry of support from the back of the headquarters at the end of the Radical Esotericist's speech. Some turn to look and catch glimpses of Drake Dynamo shushing his sister Emma. Noticing the eyes on him, the well-dressed Correspondent realizes it's probably in his best interest to make a remark.

    "Uh, hello there. I supported the Bishop of Southwark last year, and I would like to note that my support this year is 100% behind Feducci. While I see no harm in the Implacable Detective, I believe any support for her would be detrimental, as it might allow the Temperance Campaigner to pull ahead. And, after all, who wants a moral busybody running London?" Drake begins, gradually growing more impassioned. "London isn't the great city it is today because we let people boss us around! We are a city of rule-breakers, of free-thinkers! Who wants to be told what they can do or, dare I say, what they may think? We must fight totalitarianism at every turn!" At this point the crowd begins to loudly agree with Drake, who continues.

    "That's not to say there's no place for the law, but we have to be sensible about these things. The Temperance Campaigner is the furthest thing from sensible! And her slogan, 'Tea-time for London,' what's that supposed to mean? We drink Darkdrop Coffee down here, is she proposing we ban that too? Or perhaps something more nefarious is at foot- she might very well be taking money from surface tea-companies to import tea to London, and drive our local establishments out of business! Friends, either you are closing your eyes to a situation you do not wish to acknowledge, or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated by the presence of this woman in our community! We've got trouble my friends! I say, trouble right here in London-town!" Drake concludes with a shout. The crowd is in a frenzy, alive with calls to run the Temperance Campaigner out of town. Emma turns to Drake, a smug smile on her face.

    "Good job brother. I knew you'd do the right thing," She whispers. "Now let's go find Professor Canning."

    Drake Dynamo -Correspondent, Hesperidean Cider Drinker , Matchmaker, and Paramount Presence
    Mr. Mauvais - A ghostly skullduggerous fellow, chopped up for the time being (Only active during seasonal events)

    Guide to becoming a Poet-Laureate
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    Posts: 187

    "varys now satisfied that the Esotericist lapse in concentration has been tactfully dealt waits for an opening to return unnoticed.
    eventually the well dressed correspondent whether pre ore danaid or not breaks into an impassioned speech and creates the opening that varys was waiting for.
    carefully the raven proceeds to navigates his way through the sea of frenzied feet stomping up and down in unison screaming out against the dauntless campaigner with voices rivalling that of raging giants.
    eventually he finds his way back to his old friend zorgan still standing in plain sight but still invisible to all but a few observant few.

    varys find his place on zorgan left hand shoulder.

    varys and zorgan give each other a look that says everything that needs to be said by those few who have noticed their presence.
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    Posts: 439

    Behind the crowd, an old and gloriously mustached gentleman swiftly moves, stuffing some crumpled up paper balls into his pockets. He slows and casually sidles up to a small pocket of shadow. Even if anyone glanced back they would have been captivated by the light shining from his bald head and not the shadow that laid nearby.

    Rich brown eyes flickered, so brown that they and the dark were nearly indistinguishable.

    "Is it done?" the dark muttered.

    The gentleman merely bobbed his head, as if they were about to doze off.

    The eyes curled, expressing pleasure. "Good. I have heard enough here."

    In one fluid motion, the gentleman gently procured a cushion from the darkness. On said cushion sat a slightly chubby pup.

    "Take it off." Tystefy whisp'd, as his top hat was relocated to the gentleman's bald head.

    Two-handing the cushion, the gentleman and the pup silently edged away.

    "AWWWW!! Look at the adorable little puppy!!!"

    The crowd turned.

    Tystefy sighed.

    Will sometimes return to post absurdity.
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