More SG discord madness. Fluffy (?) Arch/Reader beyond. Thread carefully.
You paced in the downtrodden wagon anxiously, brushing away spider webs in irritation. Drive imps sensed your hostility and avoided you in haste. The stowaway girl and Ti'zo followed your movement with their eyes, the latter screeched to transmit its worry towards you. Jodariel and Rukey occasionally glanced your way but continued their respective works. Hedwyn continuously looked at your direction, obviously aware of your anxiety. Tariq the minstrel strummed his lute slowly and gently, as if he was treading on a thin rope. But those glances and looks went past your attention, as your mind was elsewhere.
It has been days, if that bastard comes again tonight…
The journey through Flagging Hands had been weary, your companion’s fatigue were apparent on their face. The mood was initially heavy yet the minstrel’s song kept the murk at bay. Light's waning and soon the wagon would stop, and you would have to sleep in preparation for the Rite occurring on the following night. You grunted in annoyance. "Jodi.." you addressed Jodariel soon after, a tone of desperation escaped between your breath.
"No" Jodariel answered shortly, as she expertly trimming her horn. She knew your malady, which sourced from nightmare haunting you each night. She made attempt in asking what ailed you, what sort of haunting vision you dreamt of. Yet you made your stance in keeping your secret from your fellow exiles. Instead, you asked for prolonged shift during night watch. It finally took a toll on you and everyone took notice.
"I haven’t said anything" you argued.
"You're not on the watch tonight, nightmare or no. Tomorrow we're arriving in Pit of Milithe and we NEED you physically sound" she snapped at you. Nevertheless, there were no hatred in her tone, but rather a tone which was similar to a worried caring mother.
"Surely mental health counts as ---" You didn't manage to finish your word as you see Jodariel's intense stare, keen in her decision of taking you off night watch duty. Against such a woman, you could only relent. "--fine."
Then you feel a warm hand on your shoulder, you didn't need to turn to know whose it was. Hedwyn voiced his concern, "Perhaps you can share us what ails you, my friend. Might help lift your spirits a little"
“In fact, I’ve got my hands on some good spirits! That stuff will knock you off” Rukey chimed in as he rummaged his rucksack. He proudly presented a dark bottle from within. “Ahh yes, from good old Commonwealth. This would cost you good sols if you weren’t me!”
"SCREE-NNNNN-NYEHH" Ti'zo transmitted his desire to chase off your nightmare furiously, with a variety of imp profanity followed suit.
"The Eight Scribes will watch over you, I know it. I just know it" the gray haired girl handed you her shoddily assembled star shaped amulet, originally placed under the rafters. Apparently she thought you needed the Eight Scribe’s blessing the most at that moment.
"Well?" Hedwyn asked, eager to listen to your problems as he handed you a small bowl the exiles have been using for drinking.
Despite your fellow exiles goodwill, there would be no force in Downsides you would divulge the content of your nightmares. If not because of its horrid content, but also because it was downright embarrassing. You could feel blood rushes towards the back of your neck and the tips of your ears. You swore Tariq played a comedic tune on impromptu, but he maintained neutral expression when you glanced at his direction. A drink or two never hurt, you thought at that moment.
You laid on your bunk bed that night, feeling a little warm after sharing some alcohol Hedwyn and Jodariel procured at the Slugmarket before the wagon departed Cairn of Ha'ub a few nights ago. Rukey even cracked his reserve for special occasion open. Scribe amulet above your head, who was undoubtedly attached by the stowaway girl. Ti'zo snuggled against your chest, screeching gently and patted your forehead with its wing. You sensed its assurance. Soft lute tunes lulled you to sleep.
Unfortunately after all their good intention and attempt at making you feel better, the darkness that embraced you to slumber didn’t bring you to a peaceful solace. Instead, it brought you to a familiar hateful presence that haunted your dream each night. It started a couple of days after Nightwings prevailed against the Accuser under the Ridge of Gol. You felt an overbearing presence disturbing your slumber, but that was all to it at that time. Nights after the rite against the Fate, the presence closed the distance between the two of you.
At first it was a mere tingle, as if the stowaway girl was poking your cheek gently. That was what you thought, merely juvenile curious act. Yet when you opened your eyes it wasn't the red eyed girl but rather the hateful figure that continuously launching verbal assault during rites. The Voice himself was there. Clad in extravagant cloth and face hidden beneath hideous mask. Similar to the figure you saw when you first opened the Book of Rites. Looming above the ritual ground where Nigthwings first encounter their ethereal adversary.
But there he was, neither as a looming figure or disembodied voice. He stood before you, saying nothing. No chiding words nor mockery were launched from his mouth. There was only deafening silence. Then, he stroked your cheek with the back of his calloused fingers. Gently, slowly. As if he endeavored not to wake you up from your slumber. As if mere touch would return you to harsh Downside.
At one night, he merely stroke your cheek. At another, he brushed your hair. On nights after rites he’d cup your face in his hands and simply looked at you. You couldn’t determine his purposes as his visage was hidden beneath the bone white mask. Whatever it was, you couldn’t sense any animosity towards you. In truth, the way he gently touches you, it was as if he was admiring you.
Yet that in that particular night, he reached to the clasps of his mask and unfasten it. For once you could see the face beneath expressionless mask. You couldn’t make clear observations as he lifted your chin and gently planted his lips on yours. You tried to push him away, but his other arm circled round your waist, pulling you. You weren’t sure what manner of magic allowing heat transfer in ethereal realm or sensation similar to physical contact. There were no other voice but occasional breathlessness. The kiss shared deepened as time passed.
Nevertheless, there was a need to escape. To stay away. Anywhere but there. But you couldn’t move. Your ethereal body was locked in place. You had to--
“GAH!”
You woke up abruptly and hit your head against wooden ceiling of your bunk bed. Loud thunk echoed in the blackwagon. Wooden amulet fell flat on your face and surprised screech deafen your ear. You found the stowaway girl sleeping next to you and Ti’zo scurrying into her hair. Hedwyn rushed into the room, obviously overheard the noise you caused. He looked around the perimeter looking for intruders and stared in amazement as he saw you rubbing your aching forehead. Nevertheless, he quickly took notice of your condition.
“So, it doesn’t work” Hedwyn sighed as he handed you a wet cloth, motioning for you to compress your reddening forehead.
“....no…” you murmured as you did as he bid.
“I’m listening” Hedwyn sat by your side, smiling as Ti’zo sleepily jumped on his shoulders, perching on Hedwyn’s cloak as if it was its natural habitat.
“...thanks, but no…”
“Are you sure?-”
“I’m fine. I’ll be ready for the Rite--”
At that moment you remembered what transpired in your dreams. Vivid image and touch, shared heat and wet kiss. Blood rushed to your cheek. You burrowed your face into your palm in sheer embarrassment. You desperately thought it was a mere dream and wild imagination. Alas, your hope was dashed when the stars aligned and the Rite against the Withdrawn began. You could hear sheer cheekiness and a hint of perkiness between verbal assaults.
<”As you know I usually wish for you a shameful defeat. But in this case, I wish you a little bit of luck~”>
First of all, pyre discord denizens made me write this. Second, maximum pain ahead if you like Hedwyn.
So, apologizes in advance
Occasionally, it would be solemn night on the watch. Used to be lonely watch while the other three takes their deserved rest. You would read the Book of Rites on those nights, in endeavor to find holes in the system. Then again, what else could you read in Downside, aside from this mysterious Sandalwood's collection which you finished in no time.
On one night, your first friend in Downside caught you reading on the watch. Unlike Jodi, he wouldn’t berate you, but simply sit down beside you and wait. On another night, he’d say ‘Oh, don’t mind me. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be able to read’.
You offered to teach him then, to which he replied gleefully, with familiar smile and cheerful tone ‘It might be not too late with you around’.
Stolen minutes during mentoring and night watch was more than sufficient to teach Hedwyn. He was a willing and quick student. He could memorize the olden characters in no time. Scribbles on the sands soon switched to parchments and inks. You swore you saw glimpse of a proud smile from Jodariel as she witnessed her fostered son/ best friend practicing his letters. She’d never admit it openly, alas.
Nights in Moonlight Alcove were quiet and peaceful compared to the rest of the Downside. Idle days you would spend reading and foraging. Nevertheless, time spend in between liberation rituals granted Hedwyn more time to practice his letters, and after some time, words in the Book of Rites eluded him no more.
Then it was nigh the time when you decided to anoint Hedwyn for Liberation Rite. Your adversaries fought hard, yet with your best friend’s freedom at stake, there would be no room for mistakes. You could sense his despair for breaking his promise. A promise to leave Downside together. It hurts to let him go, obviously, but you wished him the best and hoped he would reunite with the love of his life.
<”Thank you”>
Familiar voice resounded in your mind. You snapped out from your thought and saw Hedwyn bathed in Shimmer-Pool light as the current whisked him away from Downsides. Upwards to the Commonwealth, where he’d return in glory. You wondered if the words inside your head were mere imagination. Yet, Volfred’s proud wooden visage confirmed your suspicion.
With the Nightwings’ numbers greatly reduced, the lonely night watch returns. Doing nothing but watching receding bonfire whilst reading Book of Rites under dimming stars. Yet the Titans’ stars burns brightly amidst the darkness. As you observed the dimming Lenoriel, you felt a cold wind rushed against your back and you shivered. You heard an almost inaudible mocking chuckle at the back of your head.
You hoped it was a mere imagination, you hoped it was The Voice taunting you in your dreams.
Alas, such fickle hope were dashed onto the ground, similar to whence you entered Downside. Within a cage thrust down unforgiving river, dashing against rocks and carried by unrelenting current. Yet such physical pain were nothing compared to this humiliation.
<”Hello, my friend”>
Such was the first words that resounded over the Ridge of Gol. The Voice that taunts you no longer belonged to Archjustice. It belonged to a more familiar voice and presence, yet it was a mockery to the good friend you knew. His voice was filled with pure hatred and disgust, throwing insults and explicit towards his friends.
You remembered Volfred’s words then, of Brighton - previous Nightwings’ reader - fate after he was liberated. You wondered then, if it was your fault. The thought burdened you throughout the rite, and with constant verbal abuse from your best friend, the Ridge of Gol turned dark. Once again, a mocking chuckle echoed in the corner of your mind. Only it was a familiar one.
When you woke up, you were laying on your bunk bed, wet cloth on your forehead. You looked out and found the black wagon was nowhere near Ridge of Gol. As of the moment it was traversing the empty fields in the Flagging Hands. Was it a dream? Perhaps. The Downside has ways to demoralize its denizen. Perhaps its the swamp itself that caused you malady. You breathed in relief.
You dressed and entered the main chamber of the wagon. You saw Volfred sitting on one of the empty chairs, pondering over a parchment. A messenger imp had arrived bringing news on Hedwyn. You joined Volfred then, ecstatic to know what fate had in store for your best friend.
Certainly it was a mere nightmare wrought by malady, you thought. Yet you saw Volfred frowned as he read the parchment, and the remaining Nightwings avoided from making eye contact with you. A chill ran down your spine then.
I’m doing some crossover between Kekkai Sensen and Fallen London. Both settings are wacky in some ways, so I thought I’d do some paragraphs in and it went wild.
Wrote this with @kekkaisensen-imagines @mintgalaxia @fishtwin in mind.
Apologize in advance for mobile users.
part 1 [link]
part 2 [link]
part 3 [link]
part 4 [link]
Living in the Fifth City, a city re-baptized as Fallen London, has not been easy on you. Then again, it has not either for the city dweller. Though industrial revolution had wrought prosperity to the kingdom in general, only select few of the populace could enjoy such luxury. For those in the lower hierarchy pyramid, gruel and hard bread remains as staple. Even more so after London was taken into the Neath, a vast network under earth's surface.
Everything has been different ever since. London, which originally a melting pot of various culture in the surface, had become more eccentric compared to herself under sunlight. More foreigners coming from all directions of Neath, bringing their respectively unique culture. Some more disturbing than the others. Nevertheless, Londoners prevailed the waves of unknown. Life continued as usual in the Fifth City, with its hierarchy pyramid where the gap between the rich and poor continue to diverse.
For you though, nothing changed much. In the first place, rare were days sunlight graced London in her peak of Industrial Revolution. The skies were full of black pillars of smoke and low hanging gray cloud reaching beyond visible horizon. The Fall only replaced the cloud with the darkness of a vast cavern system. The rich remained rich, the noblemen remained pompous, and the street rats remained scrounging for rotten bread.
Your humdrum of daily life started as you woke up abruptly on your bed, awoken to tiny voices of footsteps on your apartment's. City rats traversing on rooftops on ungodly hours. Seeking something, escaping something. When constables whistles follows, it's usually the latter. You would then reach for water basin at the edge of your small room on the second floor of old bookstore downtown. You vaguely heard your landlord groaning in distress. The cause was ever clear, rats. Living in the bookstore meant you never lack reading materials. The only downside is your landlord is unnervingly melancholic. You'd prefer avoiding running against him at every hours.
Splashing some water on your tired face, the cold quickly awoke you from haziness that follows a rude awakening. Three o'clock in the morning. You couldn't decide whether to resume sleeping or not. You thought otherwise and sat by your study. Simple wooden chair and table tucked at one corner of your room, facing against a small window. White curtain covered the Fallen London scenery beyond it. You lit a candle and dipped the tip of your feather pen into inkwell, then you proceeded to scratch a few words on your journal.
Awoken by city rats escaping constables again.
Landlord's clearly not pleased, avoid him again.
Visit Veilgarden later, again.
The Singing Mandrake in Veilgarden, a well-established café where poems, writers, artists, and all sort of artistic school personage gather. You would sit at one corner of the room, drinking tea and write solemnly while listening to artists of different schools debate in the center. Your poems had taken notice of several notable personae, who in turn encourage you to write some novels. Alas, no words flowed out of dark inky river. Papers containing scrapped plots and world building strewn about the wooden floor of your apartment, neglected and forgotten.
'You're simply fresh out of inspiration, my dear. How about a trip to Unterzee?'
'Indeed, I know a competent captain. He'll escort your trip to wherever you wish'
'Irem perhaps? Or would you try the Khanate?'
'My word, those are dangerous options!'
'What, would you suggest the Iron Republic? That is similarly scandalous!'
'I would never, my good man! Perhaps to Elder Continent?'
'You jest!'
Many a times you considered obliging your patrons to sail with their selected captain to Unterzee and witness the wonders beyond London waters. Whether it's cowardice or reluctance you aren't aware of, you decided to stay in Fallen London. Knowing the unchanging humdrum of daily life that awaits you each day in the Neath. Knowing how many times you'd write 'again' in your journal. Knowing many times you'd listen to writers bickering on their choice of inspiration. Knowing that every morning you'd awake to city rats running above your rooftops. Knowing no words would ever trickle down your fountain pen. Knowing nothing you could do to ease welling frustration inside your heart. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Nevertheless, there was one action that differs from unchanging schedule. That morning, you decided to open your windows. You were expecting the usual Fallen London scent, a mixture of smoke and sewage odor. Sleepy scenery of downtown Fallen London before ‘sunrise’. To your surprise, a gust of wind brought long forgotten aroma of flowers and sunlight. As memory of the surface flooded into your mind, the view of Fallen London downtown rooftops before you was obstructed by a large figure.
A man crouched by your small window. White curtain fluttered due to unlikely breeze. In the dim light of burning candle you could saw the man barely fit your window. An unlikely figure to be there, much less imagining him running across rooftops in expensive suit. Silver cross with ruby red center lines seemed to be his choice of accessories. Yet what strikes you most was fiery red mane and emerald eyes gleaming in candlelight, as well as a pair of protruding lower fangs decorating the sides of his mouth.
'My apologies for this untimely visit. Might you be xxxx?' He asked. You couldn't very well heard the last word he said due to approaching constable noise. The man before you observed at the surrounding nervously, visibly trying to stay calm. He looked at you again, obviously expecting some answers. Seeing your confused expression, he smiled - though that made you unnerved more than calming you -. 'Please come with me, we must be away quickly'.
He extended his hand towards you then.
Without a moment of deliberation from your part, you grabbed his hand as if your life depended on it. As soon as you did so, the man who seemed to be out of a storybook whisked you from your apartment. The last thing you see was upside down rooftops of Fallen London, your apartment window open, revealing empty room with scattered words and worlds within. Your haven grew smaller and smaller till it's nothing but a speck of light in vast darkness.
part 1 [link]
part 2 [link]
part 3 [link]
part 4 [link]
Despite Steven addressing our main character in gendered tone in Spanish (nouns are gendered so...) , the main character is actually *not* . So sorry if I butcher his Spanish orz.
On one day, you kept performing your daily routine akin to broken recorder. Doing activities without recognizing the why of it. Waking up in lonely apartment on the second floor of a bookstore, having simple breakfast, commuting to Veilgarden, mingling with fellow creative souls, returning home and sleep, preparing yourself for inevitable rude awakening and another unproductive day.
The endless chore was broken by a man out of a storybook, whisking you away from your quaint little haven in the middle of Fallen London downtown. Away from the safety of your room and familiar schedule. Away from obstructive low ceiling of a home. Away from scattered papers and reference books. Away from tiring chatters of Veilgarden guests. Away from a melancholic landlord. Away from your humdrum of unchanging daily life as the man carry you into the darkness of sleepy Fallen London.
You weren't sure when you passed out. Certainly there's a mixture of fear and excitement as you saw upside down Fifth City seconds after both you and your 'kidnapper' left the bookstore. You broke a quiet, brief laughter before everything drowned into darkness. A familiar darkness you encountered each time you lay down upon your apartment's simple bed. Though there's something slightly different about this darkness. There's a small hint of sunlight and grass within, inviting long forgotten sensations and memories. Thus, you entrusted yourself into this kind darkness.
Chatters. Chatters. Chatters.
Chatters. Chatters. Chatters.
You could hear chatters somewhere in the darkness. Words became clearer as you regained consciousness. You found yourself on a sofa, covered with dark colored suit. You quickly recognized whose attire it was. It didn't take long for you to find the owner. Without the suit, you could see well-fitting vest and white shirt underneath. He was speaking with a similarly impeccably dressed man. Only, instead of crimson, the conversation partner favors azure themed suit and tie. His most eye-catching feature was a huge scar on one side of his cheek. You could not register words the two uttered, but you could deduce from their tone that the topic was not pleasant.
The scarred man looked at your direction and quickly became aware of you regaining consciousness. 'Looks like our amigo here has awoken'. You noticed an accent in his voice. Italian? Or Spanish, perhaps?
You shivered involuntarily as his voice seemed to pierce you akin to sharp edges of ice. Due to uneasiness or being polite in general, you rose. Your throat felt oddly dry and you unconsciously reached for your neck. Your 'kidnapper' kindly handed you a glass of pure water. You accepted it gratefully as you knew the water came from a crystal decanter nesting above nearby table. You let the pure water quench your thirst.
Then you managed to register your surroundings. Leather sofa and fluffy pillows, elegant chandelier hanging on the ceiling, arrays of select wines inside a wine shelf, magenta curtain by large windows, and various planters with all kinds of flowers. The Royal Bethlehem. You've been here before attending a party held by one of your patrons, reciting poems for attending noblemen and ladies.
The man in impeccable grey azure suit addressed you, mentioning your name. To that question you nodded and he returned your answer with a grim expression. He scratched his messy dark hair as he continued, 'I don't know how to break this to you. But, you've been charged for treason. For aiding the revolutionaries'
It took several seconds before you could fully register what the main said. Revolutionaries. A group of men and women hell bent in endeavor of taking down current government. Though you only know them from ceaseless manifesto pamphlet appearing under bookstore front door and occasional London Gazette article on bombing incidents in every corner of the Fifth City. You said involuntarily, 'Wait…I don't. I mean, whoever told you that is mental. I have no--'
'I know. We know. That's why we're here instead of in constable office. Though evidence speaks the contrary' the scarred man cut your words short.
He handed you a filer filled with a thick stack of papers. Inside were silver graphs of some Veilgarden guests you could recognize. Some were occasional conversation partner, some were your patrons. The other papers contain charges and details on your daily activity. Some underlined words exhibit your conversation with suspected revolutionaries personae. The truth dawned on you then. Questionable tastes in content. Questionable suggestion and encouragement. Nevertheless, you harbored a small hope that this unlikely situation was merely a jest or nightmare after drinking bad ale.
'So, long or short version?'
'Long please, anything you know. I don't believe this is happening right now'
'As you surmised' said the man in red, taking turn in speaking. His baritone voice calmed you. 'Some patrons of yours are revolutionaries contacts. In fact, they have requested questionable contents, haven't they? Some were borderline…revolutionary, so to say. Though none of them directly questions current government, a rival of yours decided to use this against you. I take you know Mr. Darcy Pearce?'
You recognized the name, they were in footnotes or small column poem section in London Gazette whenever your work were published. Other than that, the two of you barely interacted outside civil greetings whenever you meet him in Gazette office. In fact, you could not remember any time you could have possibly done the man wrong. Then it dawned on you, '…oh'
'Good to know our poet here is quick on the uptake' commented the scarred man. 'Mr. Pearce here had taken a liberty of compiling your activity and contacts, then reported to the authority on your allegedly revolutionary activity. Which is, obviously, a false charge. We caught wind of the plot and the rest is history. Be glad we were there before the constables arrived. Aid would be impossible once you're shipped off to Tomb-Colony.'
'Fair enough,' you said in irritated voice, the source of your unjust woe surfaced. 'In short, a fellow poet condemned me to exile in tomb colony due to jealousy. Nevertheless, I doubt you aided me out of the kindness of your heart. So what's your aim?'
The man in red was visibly unnerved after you delivered your question in your most suspicious tone. Nights spent in reciting poems to pompous noble aided you in stressing syllables to deliver required mood. He scratched the back of his neck gingerly before answering, 'I must say I quite enjoy your works whenever they are published. It would be a huge loss should you be exiled or executed with impunity. We can't have that' To emphasize it, he clenched his left fist. His eyes were filled with determination.
You couldn't detect any lies from his word. Your jaw slackened at the lack of ulterior motives. You're used to commissioners and patrons seeking something else from the relationship between parties.
'Hahahaha!' the scarred man laughed. Searing ice in his voice dissipated. Clearly he was amused with the development. He patted the bigger man's shoulder roughly, his slender body slightly bent due to muffled laughter. 'Oh, Klaus. You're really something. Why, nuestro querido el poeta, aside from our leader's preference in literature, which is great I assure you, we do have ulterior motive. Hear tell some of your fans in the Shuttered Palace are going to invite you into joining the ranks of respectable artists employed there. Let's just say, you entering Shuttered Palace would be beneficial to us'
'Excuse me? The Shuttered Palace?' Every single artist in Veilgarden would kill for an opportunity to perform in the Shuttered Palace, in the Duchess' salon. It would mean recognition from upper echelon of society and ensure better life in general, if not a ticket to a life of balls, salons, debauchery, and relentless gossip.
'Yes, the Duchess herself is intrigued by your work. We had it on authority she's arranging an invitation for you. Obviously delayed due to this revolutionary fiasco, but we could fix this situation. We need someone inside the Shuttered Palace. We scratch your back, you scratch ours. It is a sound agreement, no?' the scarred man continued in glee. On the other hand, the man named Klaus fidgeted nervously.
After a moment of silence, you exhaled and replied, 'At least you're honest about your intention. What can I do though? I'm just a mere poet'
At your reply, both men grinned. The one who talked to you was the scarred one, 'We'll address that matter when you received your invitation, personally signed by the Duchess herself. For now, we need to deal with your jealous friend'
'Right, speaking of which, you mentioned 'we' many a times. Who are 'we'?' you questioned the strangers before you. If it would clear your name from revolutionary list in constable black book, you would sign even an Infernal Contract with the Devils themselves. Though at the end of the contract, one ought to relieve the possession of their souls. Despite so, you crossed the possibility of the men before you being devils. You know the Devils would be more painfully irresistible, with their charm constantly gnawing ever towards your soul akin to a hungry predator.
'My apologies, that was rude of us' the man named Klaus answered immediately. 'My name is Klaus von Reinherz'
'Well, we had to confirm our situation quickly. Couldn't be helped. I'm Steven .A. Starphase. Feel free to address me as Steven. Mi amigo here is our leader'
'Leader?'
'Yes, we're from Libra' said Klaus, beaming in glee as he handed you a tiny card - tiny in perspective compared to its holder's humongous hand -. On the white card was a couple of letter with golden scale in the upper top part of it.
------------------------------------------------
Klaus .v. Reinherz
Executive Director of Libra
------------------------------------------------
It took you a second to recognize the name. The moment you did, you sank into leather sofa as if in endeavor to escape this unlikely situation. Yet you know this is neither a plot from cheesy novel nor a dream after a night of bad ale. For you know the organization which had been in everybody's lips. A secret to everybody in Fallen London. 'The Libra?'
A continuation of my crossover between Kekkai Sensen and Fallen London / Sunless Sea. [Link]
Turned out bigger than I expected. Again, apologize in advance for mobile users
Everything in the Neath is absurd. You prepared yourself the moment you were taken into the Neath as London sunk, whatever the subterranean world would throw at you, you were determined to be relentless. Yet the absurd scene before you had thrown you off your feet. Figuratively and literally.
Darcy Pearce's lips met Klaus', for a brief seconds which felt like an eternity to you. Your literary rival seemed to be savoring Klaus' lips to the fullest before they parted. Klaus became extremely tense afterwards, the back of his neck and ears turned beet crimson. Darcy Pearce looked at you triumphantly, lifting his chin ever upwards, exhibiting his dominance.
'You thought you're going to kiss him first. But alas, it was me, Darcy'
Your descend into Venderbight madness started a year after Darcy Pearce's attempt to pin you as one of revolutionary party supported, ending your literary career prematurely. Fortunately, an unlikely savior whisked you away minutes before the constables could get a hold of you. With aid from a vigilante group, Libra, you managed to clear your name, send your rival to exile, and was invited into the Shuttered Palace as strawberry on top. It didn't come at a price, obviously, but one you're willing to pay.
As one of new member of Libra, you're tasked in observing individuals and social circles within the Shuttered Palace, therefore adding another layer of complexity on your daily activities. There were other observers like you posted throughout the city. Compiled reports on odd activities and slight rumors might save someone in need. Similar issue occurred to your case as well. One of Libra members overheard Pearce's drunken boast and reported it to the inner circle. Hence sparking the incident.
For a year, you have been spending most of your time in the Shuttered Palace, reciting your poem and novels. Socializing with the higher echelon of society. Other than that, you would be in Libra's headquarters, bringing some snacks you smuggled from the palace's kitchen. Most of your time in the headquarters would be compiling reports and chatting with the lunch trio and Chain, sharing the day's loot (snacks and takeaways). On occasion, you would be joining the actions. Hard shooting lessons from K.K often saved you from a pinch. Though, you would be mostly running along with Leo in not-a-fighter club or getting thrown around by other members with better affinity at fighting. Libra's most feared enemy would be the vampires, elder beings who maintain their immortality by drinking blood. This is a good reason for Libra to provision their members with silver equipment. As for you, silver bullets and cross as a charm against blood-suckers.
On brief chances, you would be sitting in Klaus' greenhouse, drinking tea with him and discussing literary work. He's definitely educated in literature field and a good critic. Klaus, Steven, and K.K gave you a lot of inputs on your works before they are submitted to your editor. The Libra's executive director would sometime request that you would tone down the 'Master of Crime' character in your novels, knowing he's based on Klaus himself. To that request you would simply grin mischievously. Long story short, brief chances became an unspoken arrangement and you always looked forward to each 'Tea Party'.
On one day, Steven and Klaus mentioned a trip to Venderbight, one of the bigger Tomb Colonies due north of Fallen London. Death does not come naturally in the Neath. Those who died would remain as rotting corpses. These unfortunate souls would spend the rest of their remaining time, as much as their flesh allowed, in the tomb colonies. Far away enough from the living beings, preventing them from unnerving the Londoners. It is a fate shared by everyone living in the Neath.
'To Venderbight it is, we have to make the trip' Steven said as he set down a filer on Klaus' desk. His eyes were blood-shot red and stubbles decorated his chin, Steven had been overworked yet once again. 'I've made arrangement for the other items, but only this one require further inquiries'
The owner of the desk ceased playing chess-like game called Prosfair and read Steven's file. Klaus considered for a moment, scratching his chin while reading the file. 'I suppose so, we can't afford to turn this opportunity sour. Gilbert, could you make the arrangement?'
'Certainly, Young Master' Gilbert nodded gracefully, ever ready at his position behind Klaus. The butler didn't exhibit his utmost attention in his expression, yet he noticed your excitement. 'Who else will be going? I see our poeta is interested as well, ohohoho'
'May I?' you asked, but it was clear to the others that you were excited at the prospect.
Klaus covered his mouth elegantly in order to hide an amused smile, yet he was beaming 'I don't see any reason to prohibit you from it. I remember you need a struck of inspiration for your upcoming work'
'I did mention something like that' you answered and tried to recall whether you did mention suffering from a writer's block during one of your tea parties. You didn't catch Steven and Gilbert grinning.
'Oho~' . 'Heehe..'
'This is going to very much exciting! I have never left London before. After it's sunk, mind' you admitted honestly. 'To be fair though, I could not even remember London before it's covered in dark smokes and low hanging grey clouds'
'You're pretty giddy for going to place you were about to be exiled at' Steven commented non-chalantly, sipping his black coffee as he returned to his seat.
'No need to remind me of that'
Despite having almost exiled into the tomb colony yourself, you were intrigued in visiting Venderbight. You thought it would be a good experience and a chance to seek inspiration outside the humdrum of the Fifth City. A simple escapade away from London's stuffy air filled with smoke, sewage odor, and cheap musk. Away from prying eyes and gossiping noblemen in the Shuttered Palace.
You mused at the thought of Venderbight, your mind racing with the possibilities of stories unfolding within. A battle between a protagonist and bitter rival, perhaps? Chasing the villain through maze-like alleyways, ending it with a duel where only one escapes. The villain received unnatural power from an unknown patron, per chance? You were giddy with the possibility.
Ships of all kind and origin docks in Wolfstack Harbor, coming from all direction in Unterzee. The Docks itself were bustling with activity, with various produce/merchandise shipped in and out. Harbormaster and constables busy inspecting the cargo, ensuring there were no contrabands brought into Fallen London. Should one was caught carrying contrabands, there will be huge fine involved and possibly free lodging in prison. There were sailors both on and off duty traipsing about the harbor. There were also 'land lubbers' like you, who seek passage to other islands in the other side of Unterzee, far beyond home waters of London.
Strange wonders were in the far reaches of Unterzee. Iron Republic, elusive Elder Continent due south, an artificial sun callen Dawn Machine, an undergound Volcano, a palace made of ice due north, Seas of Coral, the Khanate, Fathomking's Hold where drowned dead reside, and so many other wondrous locales you wish to visit. For the time being, Venderbight beckons.
You walked along the docks, carrying a small suitcase for the travel, passing a few bars where fishermen and sailors alike enjoying their pints of beer during shore leave. The atmosphere were rowdy but honest, unlike masked companies in the Shuttered Palace. From within each tavern and bars, sea shanties could be heard. It gave off an impression that the sailors brought the Unterzee with them onto the land. Alas, you couldn't stay and listen for too long. You carried on until you reached a fish market.
Near the fish market you could see stalls selling seafood dishes. Most of them were using Unterzee fish instead, but they were delectable still. There were London staples such as fish and chip or fish pie. More exotic establishment offered sliced raw fish or cured fish. On good days, there would be fresh sea urchin on sale. Easterner fish market would provide a variety of fresh catch and cured products for specific clientele.
For a London-bred such as you, fish and chip or pie would be a more reasonable choice compared to those heavy on spice. Observing both stall owners preparing their dishes, you were mulling over which you would buy. Fish pie with gravy and mashed potato or fried fish and chip. Skewered grilled fish. Fresh clam with simple lemon and parsley dressing. Those were hard contender to choose from. In the end you chose fish and chips because the owner provided a practical paper cone made of old Gazette papers for travelers on the go.
'Sauce or vinegar?' he asked, pointing at two bottles which obviously contained the forementioned sauce and vinegar. He seemed to be anticipating your answer, so did the pie stall owner behind him.
'Vinegar' you answered, thinking you'll need something acid and fresh for fried food.
'Good choice there, always trust anyone who prefers vinegar' the stall owner grinned as he liberally poured vinegar over your portion of fish and chips.
'Please' the fish pie stall owner beside him scoffed 'Nothing beats fish and thick sauce'
'That's why you're stuck selling pie and I sell chips, damn bastard' replied the fish and chips stall owner 'Here you go, extra chips on the house for your friend'
'Eh, sure thanks. Friend?' You received the chips gratefully. The moment you turned your back, you found Klaus standing behind you. He was wearing a travel coat over his usual vest and suit. A blue shawl was left hung on his coat instead of tied around his neck, which made him appeared akin to Italian mafia don you saw in still movies. None of the stall owners were taken aback with Klaus appearance as they were used to shady characters. Gilbert was beside him, carrying a small trunk. Then you realized the stall owner was referring to them. 'Oh'
'Welcome, welcome. Young Master! Try a bit of my fish and chip, you'll get hooked in no time!'
'Don't listen to this bollocks, grab me pie instead. Made with quality dough and fresh eel directly from local fish market'
'Interesting' Klaus muttered after taking and tasting one of your piece of chip.
'Have you never had this before?'
'Unfortunately, no. Madam was quite strict with Young Master's upbringing. ' It was Gilbert who answered your question as Klaus was busy eating your fish and chip eagerly. Humming cheerfully as he did so. When you looked at your paper cone, there was nothing left.
'Eh...’
'Young Master...'
'M-my apologies, I'll buy you a fresh portion' Klaus stammered, realizing he had practically eaten your meal.
'Glad you like it, Young Master! Vinegar or sauce?' the stall owner grinned, clearly amused by the scene unfolding before him. He had prepared another batch for freshly fried fish and potatoes ready on his drying tray. To emphasize his question, he pointed towards his sauce bottles with vinegar and sauce within.
Klaus pondered for a second then said cheerfully, 'Let's have both, then we can share and compare. Also, one portion of fish pie please. Gilbert, I remember you talked about eating fish pie in the docks. So this one here is for you'
'Indeed I did, so you remembered it, Young Master' Gilbert said cheerfully.
'There's people like this too, huh?' the fish and chip stall owner commented as he prepared both portion as requested.
The pie stall owner simply shrugged 'Nothing beats fresh fish, eh!'
'Yep, yep' replied the chips stall owner 'Can you even imagine curing fish? Hear tell people up in Norway eats rotten sharks!'
'Eh, remember that one fish cook in Uptown? He used to cook strangest of catch. From deep in Unterzee. I'd say our Surface brothers are far better compared to him'
Klaus listened to the stall owners chattering about an odd duck of a fish cook intently, at least until they handed him his orders. Klaus and you shared portions of fish and chips with vinegar and sauce, while Gilbert keeps his pie until he returned to Libra headquarters.
The three of you reached the dock where the sea vessel which would take you to Venderbight was docked. Some ship hands were busy working on the ship's cargo. Another were taking notes of the ship's cargo and inventory. You recognized some crates of wines and mushroom for export purposes. There were separate cargo space reserved for ship supplies, whether spare parts or crew and guest meal. Then you noticed a stack of wooden coffin rattling some distance away from the other cargo. You knew right away those coffins contained tomb-colonists.
'Scary bunch, 'eh? Pay 'em no mind. They'll rot in the cargo hold' one of the sailors addressed you as he noticed your uneasy gaze towards the coffins containing tomb-colonists. He then pointed at a well-dressed man nearby. He was talking with Steven and K.K, who had arrived at the Docks earlier 'Captain's over there'
Steven noticed the three of you approaching and waved his hand. 'Took you long enough...anything left for me?' he said in pleasant tone, as he peeked into paper cones both you and Klaus held. He took one from the batch with thick sauce.
'Bah, sauce lover' commented the Captain. He turned towards the newcomers afterwards 'Welcome to my ship, the Odyssey. You'll have a fine trip to Venderbight, no problem. We'll just have a brief stop at Hunter's Keep then straight to Tomb Colony. Hopefully there would be no trouble aside from clouds of sea bats. We'll have no encounter with Sea Crabs enroute to Venderbight. Unless you're asking for a detour to Stone Sphynx or something'
'I'll leave the route planning to your discretion, good Captain' Klaus said as he bowed slightly, to which the Captain returned politely. In turn he addressed K.K 'How's your children, K.K. Will they be fine with you away from home for some time?'
'No need to worry, my husband is taking care of them' K.K answered, then glared at Steven 'It'd be better if I didn't become a pinch hitter, though'
Steven merely laughed weakly.
'I thought you were coming' you exclaimed in surprise.
'Unfortunately, I'd have to hold on. There's an incident in Veilgarden again, there's a lot of feather ruffled this time around' Steven said as he scratched his head. 'That's for me to take care of, you three have fun in tomb colony'
Klaus nodded excitedly, K.K sighed, and you replied excitedly. The Captain then called foe the threw of you to embark on the ship. Steven stayed with your group until the three of you are settled in respective rooms and leave minutes just before the ship departs from dock. He had to run back into city proper the moment he saw pillar of fire coming from the general direction of the city, with Gilbert behind him.
The Odyssey embarked out of Wolfstack Docks after thorough custom inspection and inventory checks. It's steam whistle resounded throughout the docks, signaling a departing ship into the darkness of Unterzee, far beyond home waters. Slowly but surely, the vision of home would be drowned beneath dark horizon. You looked at Fallen London from a distance. The gigantic city would be engulfed by darkness were not for its skyline and a certain pillar of fire somewhere within the cityscape.
As It was the first time ever you sailed from Fallen London, constantly swaying ship was only the first of your woes. It didn't take long for continuously swaying ship and waves to induce seasickness into you. With your stomach churning and head spinning, you spend most of the time sleeping inside your cabin, utterly defeated. Even so, you found it difficult to sleep as the ship constantly sway due to unterzee waves.
Klaus and K.K took turns in checking your condition. It was mostly the nervous Libra leader, bringing mineral water and light meal. In general he tried to make you feel more comfortable. You swore you could hear K.K giggling outside your cabin.
The only times you were able to walk free on the decks was the moment The Odyssey docks in Hunter's Keep. An isolated island not far from the Fifth City, just at the border of home waters. A solitary mansion erected on the island. The captain was making supply drops for three noble sisters who lived in the island. All the while you and your company waits inside the ship as the captain warned you against taking a stroll around the island. It was for a reason he would not divulge but a good one nevertheless.
'What sort of affair are you having in Venderbight? Not many deliberately visit the tomb colony while they're…alive' you said to Klaus on one moment you're free of seasickness and the confines of your constantly swaying cabin. You recalled tales from Venderbight. Colonies of dead men wrapped in bandages. Only the bandages were not to cover wounds but rather tying rotting flesh together. Sea captain would bring tomb-colonist coffins whenever they are passing by Venderbight. Simple delivery made for good echoes, which in turn would be used for either a night in Venderbight bar or buying supplies.
Klaus, who leaned his arms on the deck's railings, hair constantly swaying under cold sea winds, answered, 'We're hosting a meeting with a dignitary coming from the Surface. For all purposes and intentions, we need to leave a good impression. Therefore we need to recruit a good chef. I heard from some of our friends in the Palace, there's a talented one working in Venderbight. He used to have a restaurant near palace district'
You knew exactly who he was talking about, as one of palace dignitaries couldn't stop raising praises, 'The Bandaged Poissonier in the Vengeance of Jonah, I recall. Supposedly prepare divine seafood dishes. Combining seven flavors while maintaining its balance? How is that supposed to happen?'
'It happens when you've cooked for prominent figures in the Neath. Before his journey to Tomb Colony, this poissonier used to cook for the Khan and even the Empress herself' K.K explained as he leafed through a dossier Steven left behind in a hurry. 'Hmmhmm, quite a reputation he built. I can't wait to sample his dishes~ I wish I could bring some for my hubby~'
'That is something to look forward to' Klaus said to you, encouraging you to be patient on the journey to Venderbight.
You could feel the blood rush to the back of your neck, and the edges of your ears felt like burning. You addressed K.K then, 'You look pretty fine, K.K. Do you sail a lot?'
K.K grinned, knowing full well your attempt at misdirection. 'I traveled for some time, yes. That's before I met my husband. One tend to settle down after establishing a family after all. What do you think, Klaucchie? Do you think you will settle down in the Fifth City?'
Klaus inclined his head, pondering for a moment then answered. 'Most likely, this is where our work is needed. Are you implying we should broaden our efforts to Khanate and Iron Republic as well? I must admit there's little information we have gained from each...'
''No,no, Klaucchie. That's not what I meant. Do you think you'll be able to establish a family here in the Neath is what I'm asking' K.K sighed in disbelief how gullible and serious the Libra leader is.
''Uh? Oh...um" Klaus uttered in exasperation after realizing K.K's real question. He scratched the back of his neck. 'I...suppose so"
''Hmmhmm, got a candidate in mind?" K.K inquired further, both in tease and pure curiosity.
You thought this has gone into a dangerous region, so you quickly attempted to divert the topic ,'So...so! Did you know that Norway men eats rotten shark and shark blood pudding?!'
''Wh-why yes! I had heard that sharks in Norway waters are extremely venomous and have tougher skin. So the locals have to cure them for at least a month before consuming the meat. Hear tell the shark meat is extremely pungent" Klaus chimed in, panicking.
''Oh, you two" K.K muttered in disappointment, but secretly was happy with the development.
Venderbight, the tomb colony where your rival was exiled into, was as dire as you heard in stories provided by sailors and Singing Mandrake guests. The city was dark yet unnervingly functioning. There was unnerving silence hung about the city, as well as permeating odor of preservatives. A dark humongous pillar stood tall in the middle of the city. On it's base were a few residence building and its top couldn't be viewed as it was far above visible skyline of Venderbight.
On the docks were normal human mingling with bandaged men. As it was in Wolfstack Docks, the bandaged men acted as custom officers and harbormaster or workers. They were checking the shipments, especially so for wooden coffins containing tomb colonists. Indeed the shambling 'corpses' makes you unnerved most of the time, but the atmosphere was intriguing enough to call you for a brief walk throughout the city.
Both K.K and Klaus were not affected with at all. The ship crew, on the other hand, preferred to stay on board instead of taking the chance getting a leave on shore. There were a couple of bars down in the docks, but most men wouldn't risk taking a shore leave due to their fear of tomb colonists.
The three of you navigated the city, seeking for a particular restaurant owned by this well-known poissonier, the Vengeance of Jonah. An auspicious name for a store, but it's quite catching as a lot of Londoners speaks praises of the restaurant. With its sublime seafood cuisine in general, particularly the highly praised chef himself. The Fifth City lost a prominent figure once the poisonnier
Following directions provided by bandaged locals and shopkeepers, the three of you traversed winding alleyways. Fortunately there were a few boards directing tourists and locals alike to Vengeance of Jonah. Unfortunately for you, your literary rival was waiting for you in the middle of an alleyway as if he had known of your arrival beforehand. You knew there was a risk of encountering Darcy Pearce in the tomb colony, but assured yourself the chance was low it's practically impossible.
You cursed yourself internally for not being careful enough. Before any words were traded between the two of you, Darcy Pearce approached Klaus and did the unexpected. Both of you and K.K were stunned with Darcy's action. After he finished gloating, K.K instantly drew her handgun.
'Ah, ah, ah. Is this what you guys do to polite company? I was merely greeting him. You're going to be the one drawing the first shot' Darcy claimed, his tone indicated him being on the higher ground. He lifted both of his arms in mockery before continuing, 'I did no damage to you three'
K.K was having none of it, therefore she screamed in anger 'You damaged Klaucchie innocence, damn it!' as he pulled her handgun's trigger
Darcy Pearce remained calm, letting the bullet came to him, even on the last second he made no effort to evade the pullet. In fact, the bullet went through him effortlessly, as if he was mere fog. Klaus and K.K's eyes widened witnessing the sight, knowing what entails. Darcy Pearce was no mere mortal, he had turned into vampirism. Their on the spot conjecture was supported as Darcy smiled, revealing sharp upper fangs.
'Who did this to you?' Klaus asked after wiping his lips with the back of his hands. His gaze which normally gentle turned determined, to the point where even the hardiest of soul would relent. By every Gods in the Neath, when he gets serious, it became intense.
Darcy trembled for a bit before returning to his smug behavior, 'A benefactor, I must say. Someone who would like to appreciate my art for eternity'
'You got a name, or do they think you're too insignificant to be a real acquaintance?' storm rages inside you, which you tried hard to quell but couldn't help but unleashing it in your sentences. Your stomach churned and it was not only from seasickness that ailed you these couple of days.
Your inquire seemed to make a real dent on Darcy Pearce's pride, as your question hits the mark. He hissed, mixing in venomous words as best as he could, 'What of it? What matters is that I've got more than enough power to defeat you, take my rightful place in the Shuttered Palace. It's too good for shitty novelist such as you'
'Standard villain speech. 0/10' you commented.
Your words managed to taunt Darcy Pearce into acting. He disappeared in one second, and another appeared right in front of you, his visage filled with pure jealousy and hatred. You pulled out your gun, trying your best to remember K.K's teaching. Klaus, knowing that Darcy is directly attacking you, quickly approached your position trying to defend you. K.K on the other hand, went on the offensive. Bullets fired, coagulated blood shield appearing near you. Darcy's frustrated scream. Everything happened at once.
'Tch. I see your over the top characters wasn't all a figment of your imagination' Darcy spat. He didn't disappear quickly enough to avoid bullet hail.
'Reality is stranger than fiction' K.K grinned, her handguns ever focused on Pearce.
'This isn't exactly the right time for literature review' Klaus interjected, but his focus remained fixed upon the rogue poet. He observed that Darcy's wound isn't healing as fast as he thought. Darcy's has not been turned long for him to have better control on his new nature.
Darcy touched his bullet wound, he wasn't pleased with the searing pain and lodged bullet inside his flesh. He quickly retreated into the darkness of Venderbight alleyway. For reasons unknown to you, you dashed from where you stood, chasing after the disappearing figure. You could barely heard Klaus calling your name as blood rushed into your head. You could feel yourself boiling in anger. Not now, not now, not ever.
You followed a trail of blood deep into old Venderbight district, the residences and buildings around you gradually became older and decrepit. To the point where walls had shattered and fallen, only a few pillars and house frame remained standing. The moment you saw Darcy's figure at the edge of your sight, you shot. The gunshot noise echoed unnervingly. Darcy continued to retreat and the dance went on. Neither of you relent in an endless carousel dance.
At one point you arrived at ruins of an amphitheater. You could see the architecture in its glorious days. But at that moment, there were only remains of a golden age and emptiness. There were thin mist around you.
Darcy appeared before you, to which you automatically shoot your gun. But at that one point where you needed the most, the gun ran out of bullets. In your rage, you forgot to reload your hard earned Carrow's Steel gun. Seeing the realization in your face, Darcy grinned, two unnaturally sharp upper fangs decorated his white teeth. He slammed you onto the floor of the amphitheater. In a quick succession he planted his booted leg onto your chest. There was not enough force to break anything, yet it was enough to push the air out of your chest.
'Lucky bastard'
He kicks
'If it weren't for you…'
He kicks
'…my…dience…'
He kicks
'MINE!...ALL… …THEM!'
You covered your face and turned into a fetal position to protect vital areas as Darcy Pearce kicked you. Without anyone backing you up, you were literally a punching bag against newly birthed vampire. As weak as he is, Darcy Pearce was stronger than a normal human. When he was satisfied kicking you, he straddled you and reached for your neck. He was about to crush your neck when his hand started burning. You weakly reached for your neck and found silver chain and cross.
'AAAAAARGH' Darcy Pearce screamed in pain as chain and cross shaped wound didn't cease to burn his flesh.
At that moment, a gunshot resounded throughout the ruined amphitheater. A silver bullet drove through Darcy's right arm. He screamed in pain. Before he could react, a numerous amount of cross-shaped spears rained down on him. Klaus crouched beside you, checking your condition. You could feel the temperature around him raised to a dangerous degree. A glint in the darkness was the only thing you need to tell you where K.K was.
Darcy Peace didn't die that easily, he appeared from under cross-shaped spears. His wounds slowly regenerated. He addressed you then, 'I'll be making waves, big enough to engulf you all in it. For now, I'll just take this small victory' to which afterwards he deliberately licked his lips in the most seductive manner he could muster.
K.K once again shot at his direction. Klaus created a spear using his blood technique. But at the time the bullets and spear about to connect with Pearce, he had turned into fog, leaving the dangerous substances planted into nearby alleyway walls. You could hear his laughter echoing till it disappears completely.
In the end the thought of your rival coming back with worse force behind him made your malady even worse. You returned to the ship and confined yourself inside the cabin, not before the ship's doctor tend to your injuries and preached on about how one should take care of their own welfare and health. Especially after seeing what happened to unnatural deaths in the Neath. You felt disappointed for not being able to sample the Vengeance of Jonah's finest cuisine, but you would sense nothing even if you drag yourself to the restaurant. With less swaying on the boat you managed to catch a bit of sleep. Though your dreams were not peaceful.
You woke up to the ship's steam engine noise, sound signals signifying that the ship is embarking from Venderbight docks. You forced yourself to drink some water and exited your room. Your wounds aches still. When you reached the deck, Venderbight had been some distance away. What was in lesser distance was Klaus, who once again leaned his arm on the railings.
'Hey'
'Good evening'
Klaus' greeting made you automatically checked your pocket watch. It's 22.00 in the evening. They didn't need to embark so late at night, but the crew were more than happy to put a distance from Venderbight. You sighed, the trip you looked forward to became a complete fiasco thanks to your unrelenting rival.
'How's your…wound?' Klaus asked, hesitating.
'It's still aching. Here I thought writers could only lift pens' you answered, trying to lightened the mood.
'Is that so? Good to know' Klaus replied. You caught a short chuckle between breaths. Though there's still an awkward atmosphere between the two of you.
'How's the tasting?' you asked, trying to divert your mind from Darcy's unfortunate greeting.
'There were no words best to describe it' Klaus beamed in glee, recalling the dishes he had in Vengeance of Jonah. 'They weren't jesting in regards of the chef. The poissonier will be hired for the meeting next month. His prices and kitchen requirements are steep, nevertheless it's manageable and definitely worth the investment'
'That does sound wonderful' you commented, trying to hid your disappointment.
'He doesn't do takeaways, unfortunately' Klaus said in disappointed voice, then continued 'But you'll definitely have some of his cooking on the meeting. Please look forward to it'
'Oh right, that I will' Klaus reassurance perked you up.
You couldn’t help but smile whenever Klaus was around. You were too busy imagining kinds of dishes the Poissonier would prepare for the meeting to realize that Klaus was approaching you. He slipped an index finger under your chin and slightly lifted your face. Then he brushed his lips against yours ever so gently. Taking great care that his protruding fangs did not pierce your skin. It was short, but you could sense a hit of spiciness. Heat of chilies in the background. He left at the right moment, whether Klaus realized it or not, which left you wanting for more. You could hear him muttering under his breath shyly, '…all I can do for now'.
There was an uneasy silence between the two of you, which lasted for a short time. Mostly thanks to K.K appearing at the right time, 'Oh my God, Klaucchie, that was so BOLD'
'W-wait, this is not--' 'No, no! Not what you think!'
Steven merely laughed after he finished reading the reports, in addition to K.K's testimony to chain of events. Not the rest of Libra members. Whenever either you or Klaus present, they would deliberately use words such as taste, aroma, and other culinary related vocabulary. Both of you and Klaus would be beet red whenever the shenanigans occurred, and you swore you could see some white mist exuded from the Libra's leader himself. You were seriously considering to throw a thick dictionary at the rest of your colleague in Libra, especially on Zapp who continuously harassing you, as proxy for the more pleasant souls like Chain and Leo. After all, hitting Chain would be downright impossible and improper.
'Are you writing this into a novel?' Steven asked as he grinned, once again sipping his coffee from his favorite mug. He looked more disheveled compared to he was before you left for Venderbight.
'Probably not, romance is prohibited. I think…' you said, unsure, while re-reading your report on encounter with your former rival turned mortal enemy in Venderbight '…this counts as one, yes?A drama of sorts in the Shuttered Palace would be good. The nobles don't watch romances, you see. They like it but never admit it openly. You can't arrest something that does not exist'
'I noticed'
'Now stop grinning before I make you cast Mister Darcy. You know what that entails' you hissed.
To which Steven merely raised his hands in defeat gesture, but a smug smile still remained on his face. His smile grew into an annoying grin as he saw Klaus approaching, 'Ah, here's the Hatter. Have fun, you two'
part 1 [link]
part 2 [link]
part 3 [link]
part 4 [link]
Last part of this fic. I might write more crossovers in the future. If you’re curious, be sure to try playing Fallen London or Sunless Sea ^^
Tight alleyways of the Fifth City was something you're familiar with. It's a good method of travel when one wishes not to mingle with overzealous fans or annoying personae. Wet cobblestone under your feet, occasional crates and makeshift furniture used by homeless individuals, mixture of ammonia and coppery odor which would render one's nose numb, bloodshot gazes from individuals spending their idle days within maze-like alleyways. Should one walk about carelessly, they'll fall victim to a bucket of waste thrown out from nearby window.
'SHIIIIIT!!!!' Zapp exclaimed a second after a bucketful of human waste thrown onto him.
'Yeeesh…' Leonardo added as he pinched his nose and made some distance between him and the unfortunate man.
'Ewww!' Chain performed the same action with Leonardo, only more liberal with expressing her disgust. 'Now you're double dirty, stupid monkey'
Zed simply inclined his head and said 'Oh, I can fix that quickly' before forming a huge ball of water above his hands and submerged Zapp into it. He then absentmindedly made Zapp roll around inside the water ball before releasing him. The unfortunate man plopped onto wet cobblestone face down. Zed beamed in glee as he explained, 'Once I saw human using water in a box to wash their clothes, interesting contraption indeed. There's even wringer on it too'
Zapp quickly rose and choked Zed angrily, 'You idioooot! I'm not some dirty clothes!'
'Knock it off kiddo' K.K interjected, she didn't relent her gaze the moment Zapp glared at her. It was obvious who won in the staring contest. She looked at you before expertly changing the topic, 'We're close to the Black Horse. At this time he should be inside. How do you want to approach this?'
You looked at Leo putting an effort to separate Zapp and Zed for a second, then replied, 'Quiet, if possible. But, that's pretty much impossible is it?'
'No, Pearce would be in the gambling den at this time. He has a clay man with him too. So direct approach would be suicidal' Chain pondered as she leaned her back against alleyway wall. Yard siren blaring throughout the city. Despite so, she made an effort to remain calm.
'If direct and quiet don't work, we'll just have to make it a blast' Leo said confidently, grinning widely yet there's a hint of nervousness behind his cheerful nature.
Leo's plan included Zapp, Zed, and himself playing decoy at the Black Horse gambling den, mingling with the guests for a while before throwing select insult words at Pearce, deliberately starting a fight inside the gambling den. The fraud writer himself was not a problem, but his escort might. Both Zapp and Zed are confident in taking him on, though the latter worries about the den's security interference. Leo, who was supposed to be a lookout, was accidentally involved in the fistfight. He caught a couple of fist into his face but retaliated using whatever power his unique eye granted him. Several people were instantly stunned or imbalanced. That's when both Zapp and Zed mop the floor with them.
Pearce himself was hiding behind the den's bar, constantly barking order at his clay man. Other patrons of the gambling den simply cheered on the fistfight. Several guardsmen threw themselves at the trio, but sheer number couldn't even the odds. In fact, a couple of supporting shots from a Hawkeye added the trio's odd. There were electrical current running through each shot which added to the absurdity of the fight.
You and Chain sighed at the same time, witnessing the absurd scene. Nevertheless, with everyone's attention was aimed at commotion down in gambling parlor, the two of you managed to reach Pearce's apartment on the upper floors. There were a small number of guards which Chain incapacitated quickly and effectively. In fact, none of them realized it until too late. Chain wasn't keen in having you following her, but an alleyway is far more dangerous compared to a gambling parlor.
'Oh, wow, are you sure I'll fit in your group?'
'That's for Mister Klaus and Starphase to decide. But, there are a lot of us who don't actually fight' Chain answered as she dug her arm into a man's chest, incapacitating him effortlessly.
You entered Pearce's room, it is amusingly similar with yours. Small modest apartment room with papers and books strewn about its wooden floor. Inkwell and fountain pen on similarly modest wooden worktable. The only difference was the waft of cheap perfume and smoke instead of old books. Which is considerably makes sense, since Pearce is living inside a gambling den instead of bookstore. Nevertheless, you weren't expecting to find your unknown rival room to be so modest.
'You looked like you're taken aback, poeta' Chain called you back into reality.
'That name is going to stick, isn't it' you sighed, and continued 'Yes, I expected his room to be more…grandiose? Filled with velvet and Turkish carpet, perhaps. A hookah on the corner of the room. High quality furniture, bed with post and curtain. Cheap musk, maybe, and select alcohols he snitch from the bar downstairs'
'Then this makes this a case of simple jealousy. Not a conspiracy. Pretty boring, isn't it? Chain added, crossing her arms idly. 'Why bedpost though?'
'Uhm…there's a lot of things you can do at a bedpost. ' You answered vaguely, in endeavor not to divulge too much in front of polite company.
'Oh my. You have questionable tastes'
"Sue me. Let's just plant the…hold on' you were about to suggest for Chain to start planting 'evidence' inside Pearce room when you saw a couple of books under his bed. You reached towards it and dusted it. There were trace of golden letters on the front and the side of the hardcover. You skimmed the book for a minute. The content made you grin. 'We probably don't need our own 'evidence''
'Why? What's that book? Is he a revolutionary member after all?'
'No, it's a romance book' you grinned at Chain, and she made a small 'o' with her mouth before she started giggling.
It is a known fact that romance literature is banned in the Fifth City, any possession of such contraband would be enough to send someone to Tomb-Colony. Or at least heavy fine from the Yard with right connection and amount of money. Unfortunately for Darcy Pearce, a constable raid on the gambling den uncovered his contraband possession. As he has neither connection not monetary advantage, he was shipped off to Tomb Colony and his charges against a certain poet was waved off as mere literary jealousy.
In turn, the unfortunate poet received a pardon from the Duchess directly, as well as an invitation to perform in one of her salon. The event of at the night of incident was recreated inside a novel, which involved a Master of Criminal World whisking away the poet and a series of action packed scenes in a magical way. Obviously, the readers enjoyed the added flair from the writer's part and waved it off as a mere story. While in fact it's not in the slightest.
'So there you have it' Steven said in satisfied voice, closing his filer and putting it on nearby desk.
You were sitting on a sofa inside Libra's headquarters main room, serving both as office room, meeting area, and lounge for the member. The floor was a black and white checkered akin to chess board. Huge windows were behind executive director's desk. Various potted plants were placed strategically which enhanced the room's atmosphere. Unlike the Royal Bethlehem which boast luxury, this office room felt like home and more comfortable.
The trio sat beside you, each of them had bandages on various part of their body. The fight from the other night left some wounds on them. Despite so, they were smiling. You remembered Klaus was fussing over the three when they returned with wounds all over their body, especially towards Leo who is not used to fighting. You found it funny for such a composed gentleman to lose his composure due to his subordinate's condition.
K.K and Chain came out of the fight unscathed, with their respective ability not requiring them to confronting their enemies upfront. Chain did snitch one of the books from Pearce collection for 'research purposes'. Steven and Klaus had minor injury which took less time to recover compared to the trio.'
Steven giggled as he lifted your novel, 'Master of Criminal World, is it? You do have amazing imagination'
'Hey, who doesn't want to be whisked away like that?' you replied, grinning. Despite your recent literary success, you decided to stay in the bookstore. The melancholic owner did worry about your sudden disappearance and constables barging in all of sudden, screaming accusation about your allegiance to the revolutionary party. He was relieved when you returned almost unscathed, grossly sobbing on your good suit.
'Oh, my. That would be a dream' K.K added, 'But I already have hubby and children…*sigh*'
The supposedly 'Master of Criminal World' scratched his neck shyly, before declaring, 'Operation success, I suppose. One last thing is presenting our poeta to the Duchess. I'll be escorting you for the salon'
'Hitting the high society, eh? Good luck with that, poeta' Zapp said casually as he leaned his head against the sofa. 'I ain't interested'
'Well, you have none of their refined manner, monkey' Chain muttered under her breath.
'Say that again! She-dog!' Zapp caught her mockery.
'Not again, you two!' Leo snapped, avoiding just in time before Chain landed her heels on Zapp's face once again. Zed dragged you out of the way quickly as Zapp lost his balance and dropped on the sofa where you and Leo had sit seconds before. It would have been a domino of human should the two of you remained there.
'If you need better outfit, I can give some suggestion. Our poeta here does need a new one. Can't go to the Shuttered Palace without proper attire after all' K.K suggested, completely ignoring the youngsters breaking into a fight.
'Ohohoho, I can arrange that with young master's permission' Gilbert suggested as he handed you a cup of warm tea. The aroma was similar to your savior the night you escaped the bookstore.
'Please do, Gilbert'
'Once you're ready, master Poeta, I'll need to measure you' said Gilbert. You can tell from his eyes that he's smiling beneath the bandages. He then proceeded to prepare more tea expertly for everyone in the room.
'I knew it's going to stick' you groaned as every Libra members present had already calling you poeta as a nickname.
'Ahahaha' Steven laughed, definitely not apologetic as he's the one who accidentally nicknamed you. 'Speaking of which, you don't have to worry about our Pearce ever again. We made sure he's not coming back to Fallen London ever again'
All's well that ends well, you thought. Then you caught Klaus looked at your way, you swore you saw a hint of admiration in his gaze. Whatever it was, it was gone in a second. He approached you and once again extended his hand towards you. A similar scene played out, only the word was different and you couldn't be more confident of your answer.
'Welcome to Libra' Klaus said as he shook your hand firmly.
part 1 [link]
part 2 [link]
part 3 [link]
part 4 [link]
Every Libra members are here! (Except Dog Hammer, you know where they are atm ;3;).
Libra. A ghost organization which had been on everyone's lips in the Fifth City. Some of the Singing Mandrake guests in Veilgarden constantly talked about this supposedly organizations' achievements, despite the Gazette and constables saying otherwise. Libra's ghost operatives runs across the rooftops and inside sewers ensuring Fallen London's dark side does not encroach their dirty paws outside appropriate boundaries. Some witnessed their members performing unnatural capabilities. Similar yet dissimilar to Devil's magic. Obviously none taken the latter seriously.
You couldn't believe you're among the elusive figures at that moment in your life. You were thrown into a conspiracy plot and receiving aid from this particular vigilante group. You sat on a leather sofa inside one of the suit in Royal Bethlehem, observing a group of people pondering over scraps of paper and a map of the Fifth City on nearby table.
Klaus von Reinherz and his right-hand man, Stephen .A. Starphase were joined by another group of people, presumably another Libra operatives. One of them was a dark skinned lanky man in white street outfit, its hue similar to his hair. He was biting unlit cigar. Beside him was a fish-like man who you suspect to be drownies out of Fathomking's hold. But lack of insanity made you thought otherwise. Last of the trio was a shorter young man dressed in a rather casual outfit of a street boy. He constantly keeping his eyes closed. You swore you could see shimmering blue under his eyelids.
Sitting beside you was a woman who appeared out of thin air, wearing impeccable suit, leaving two top buttons undone. Behind the leather sofa, leaning her arms against it was a one-eyed beautiful blonde haired woman. A sharpshooter rifle strapped on her shoulder. You could recognize it's the latest model from Carrow's Steel. Lastly, a man who at the first glance seemed to be a tomb-colonist stood behind Klaus, dressed in butler outfit. His bandage covered past wound instead of rotting flesh. The butler did provide you with a fresh set of suit, so you would not suffer the humiliation of walking around in night gown.
'So, what's the plan, Mister Starphase?' asked the man in white.
'Chain had found where our friend Pearce is hiding' answered Steven as he sipped some coffee from a mug. Not a moment too soon he found his mug nearly empty, the butler expertly offered a fresh portion into it. "Oh, thank you, Gilbert"
The woman in suit sitting beside you nodded solemnly before supporting Steven's answer, 'He's living in a room above a gambling den in the Spite. The Black Horse, I believe. His daily schedule has not changed since the attack. He spent the mornings in Gazette office, afternoon in the Singing Mandrake, and nights gambling away in the Black Horse. He's got a golem following him around. Oh, and he has terrible musk. You wouldn't miss him a mile's away'
'Or your nose is getting worse, she-dog' said the man in white street clothes. Chain disappeared from her seat beside you to reappear right above her rude audience, planting the heel of her shoes on his face gracefully. The other two out of the trio remained calm despite their friend's pained scream. You could quickly surmise that this is a normal occurrence to them. In fact, the man in white did endeavor in defeating Libra's leader himself earlier, only to receive knuckle sandwich instead of hard earned victory.
'Smug bastard, isn't he?' Steven commented as he scrubbed his chin with his index finger. 'He's taking advantage of your absence, trying to outdo your artistic achievement. I'd rather not have such charming personae to enter Shuttered Palace. The Carnival maybe, or Watchmaker Hill. Rodent belongs to one another after all.'
The fish-like man replied, 'Oh? I did hear Watchmaker Hill is constantly under rodent plague. They said no matter how much you killed in one day, they multiplied as much the next day over.'
'Zed, Mister Starphase didn't mean it literally' the boy interjected, half smiling. Were this a comic scene, he'd have a water drop over his head. 'He meant Mister Pearce is a rodent. A rodent should mingle with fellow rodent'
'Oh? I don't really understand the phrase' Zed replied as he inclined his head slightly to the right, expressing his confusion.
'It's useless to explain to this fish, Leo' the man in white commented, grinning.
'Young man, if you explain the joke, it would ruin the nuance. Though I did mean it literally. Nibbling away someone else's success, sneaking in the shadows. There's room for improvement here. We could always drown him in Wolfstack Docks or leave him under Forgotten Quarters. On second thought, I heard there's spider infestation in a church near the Docks. If anything he'd be a good fodder' Steven said casually, smiling pleasantly which is contrast to the content of his comments.
The trio grimaced listening to Steven's remark on Pearce. To which Steven grinned and added, 'I jest'. You weren't sure whether it was pure jest or not. Yet you wouldn't doubt this Steven character would gladly make someone disappear in order to gain benefit or reach his goals.
'So what do you suggest, Steven?' Klaus asked, his arms remained folded throughout the conversation.
'Easy, we fight accusation with accusation. Drop on him, take him somewhere scandalous, plant some 'evidence' inside his room, which I've prepared. Done. Don't worry about the constables, our good friend inside can take care of the matter for us. Once we're done with our part, they'll make sure our poeta walks free.' Steven explained.
'We're going to owe the Constables, eh? That's not a pleasant thought' the man in white interjected as he played with a zippo lighter, twirling it between his fingers.
'We're getting an agent inside Shuttered Palace, that's a good trade off. I believe our poeta here can even manage entering their inner circle, Zapp' Steven smirked. You could hear small -tsk- coming from the woman behind you.
'You're overestimating me, Mr.Starphase' you interjected.
'Not at all, our leader here got good taste in art, so I'm trusting his judgment. Also, it's Steven'
'Aaah~ first name basis already? If I were you I'd be careful with this wretched man. Don't trust any word he says.' the eye-patched woman suggested. Her mouth formed an upside down crescent moon. Her eyes were filled with hatred? Disgust?
'That's cruel, K.K' Steven chuckled at K.K's remark, paying no heed to the woman's hostility. 'That being said, I'd like Zapp, Zed, and Chain to be the extracting team. Leo would be our lookout. K.K will provide us support from the rooftops. Klaus---'
Before Steven could have finished speaking, there were heavy footsteps resounding in the suite's floor, stopping right outside the room. The wooden door was knocked roughly by several men outside. Each Libra personnel inside the suite room entered their battle stance. Zapp and Zed the merman quickly took their position beside the suite's door. In their hands were their respective favored weapon formed from coagulated blood.
Klaus quickly took space in front of you in protective stance, keeping you and the boy called Leo between him and the butler. Gilbert himself had taken out a couple of handguns hidden beneath his dark butler suit. K.K nocked her sharpshooter rifle in the direction of the door while Steven remained in his position by the table. Chain disappeared into thin air and reappeared after a few seconds. She uttered a word which made the whole room pale, 'The Yards are here'
Leo opened his eyes and instead of pupils you saw azure orb with unknown magic formula. He concentrated upon the suite's door, no, the space beyond it. He spoke in quick succession. 'Th-there's at least ten of them outside this room, twenty outside this hotel. They are coming in heavy' He tried to calm himself to no avail. You could see him flailing his arm nervously. He's screaming voiceless 'What do we do? They are gonna get us for sure'
'I thought we had friends' hissed Zapp in panic.
'Not everyone apparently, I'm going to talk with Daniel after this' Steven groaned in annoyance, scratching his head roughly. While doing so he tapped the tip of his leather shoes on the suite's floor. You swore you saw shards of ice and cold mist spreading beneath the man's feet.
'No, the real question is if this Pearce has friends in high places. Nobody deploys thirty yards for a revolutionary member' K.K claimed whilst reining her anger, her index finger is plastered on the trigger. Ready to shoot at moment's notice.
'Open the door! We're suspecting you're harboring a revolutionaries member! Surrender and we might let you off easy!' A thunderous voice boomed from behind the suite's door. Despite the hotel's famed sound-proof walls, the Yard officer's voice wasn't deterred the slightest.
'As if' Zapp muttered between his breath.
'That voice, it's Lestrade isn't it' Steven exhaled in relief, 'Looks like our beloved by-the-book Commissary. That crosses out the possibility of Pearce having connection above his station. Still, how did they find out our base?'
The booming voice resounded again, 'You're not fooling anybody, Max Mustermann. Now come out before we rip your cowardly wiener off'
Everyone in the room (except Zed) looked at Klaus at the same time as if their movement were choreographed. There was an uneasy silence in the room. There Libra members had various expression displayed upon their faces. Disbelief, anger, pity, and possibly pity. Gilbert sighed apologetically whilst Klaus remained clueless.
It was Steven who broke the silence, covering his face with his right palm. His voice sounded tired all of sudden, 'Of all names, Klaus, you had to choose John Doe. That's like putting up a huge billboard saying WE ARE HERE COME AND GET US'
'Nothing changes. Lunch trio and Chain will go to Black Horse, bringing our poeta there. K.K, please provide support for them' Steven said calmly, completely ignoring the ever growing thunderous demanding voice beyond the suite's door. He addressed you at the end, 'I didn't want to involve you in the dangerous bit, but nothing we can do at the moment. Nowhere is safe for you right now'
'Well, it's part of job description isn't it' you claimed casually, in endeavor to lighten the mood. You could hear Leo muffled snort beside you. When you faced him, you saw his youthful grin decorating his face.
'Well said. Chain, I'll leave our poeta here to you" Steven addressed Chain, who then suddenly appeared behind you, nodding silently as she circled her arm around you.
'What are you three going to do then? Don't tell me you're going to be heroic, now of all times. You're making my stomach churn' K.K questioned her colleagues, who visibly preparing themselves for a fight. Then she exclaimed in irritation. 'Oooh, I'm going to miss Klaucchie action, aren't I?'
'Don't worry, K.K. We'll buy you time" Klaus said as he entered his battle stance. Curious unknown stance resembling spear user, yet he was bare-handed with exception of silver knuckle attached to odd contraption hidden beneath his white sleeve.
What happened next happened at the same time, yet time seemed to have slowed down for you to observe the occurrence. The suite's door was blasted open and at the same time Klaus rams his hand on the floor. You couldn't make sense of German words he said during the process. All you could comprehend was numerous amount of huge crosses made out of coagulated blood rose from under the floor, shattering the windows and breaking the ceilings.
'We'll catch up later, hurry on!'
You heard Steven's voice, despite almost inaudible due to screams and noises. Before Chain jumped off the suite floor, you saw Steven calmly tapped his shoes on the floor. In less than a second, ice spikes struck indiscriminately. You saw spikes protruding out of the Royal Bethlehem akin to an ice crown. Both beautiful and disturbingly menacing.
As Chain effortlessly carry you over rooftops, you heard Leo's scream not far in the distance.
some progress about Uncharted Destinies: today I am starting posting all the fanfiction on AO3, partially as a promise for myself so I will continue it.
also ‘first steps’ now is going to be a three-chaptered fic, current text posing as first chapter, and other two are sitting in my drafts, waiting to be finished.
reason why I postponed it for so long? was reading grimoire, replaying the game, also studies and real life got in the way... but now it’s gonna have a good plot, art (me and my bro are collaborating on this and already almost finished drawing of Cutter-7!) and good characterization. I hope, at least.
