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Zeroth
Character Listing

  • Gideon Zanhast, the Ruinous Captain
  • Professor Benjamin Babbage, the Inquisitive Researcher
  • Parlé Alfred Zorkybski, the Gabby Gambler
  • Sergeant Cassius Ashdown, the Inquisitive Veteran
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Lady Selune
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Lady Selune Lamia Queen, Young and Sweet.

Member Seen 13 days ago





Age: 24
Race: Human

Primary Attribute: Shadowy
Secondary Attribute: Persuasive
Connections:
Masters of the Bazzar - She steers clear. If she must buy something, that is what she does. Otherwise, she doesn't exactly casually talk to them. Through Lady Monica though, she has extensive contact with them, not that she feels very at ease next to them.
Bohemians - One can't help but enjoy their art, can they not? And besides, many are so willing to let her fawn over them- although they always turn up curiously penniless after her affections wane.
Constables - You're joking, yes?
Criminals - Many, deep, and varied connections. She is a criminal, after all.
Hell - She's run a few jobs for them. Not eager to do so again, unless the pay is worth it, which it usually is.
Revolutionaries - Thanks to Monica, she steers clear of these folk. Not that she doesn't have some dealings with them, but she makes a token effort to stay away.
Rubbery Men - Brr. They give her the creeps and she tries not to think about them.
(High) Society - She consorts with them often. Very often.
Church - She says her prayers, crosses herself and believes in God. That's... Pretty much it.
Docks - Zailors are always down for a little bit of gambling, a lot of drinking, and aren't always quick when it comes to having their pay filched. She appreciates them.
The Great Game - A pawn, albeit one that has aspirations of being a lot more.
Tomb Colonies - With age comes wisdom. With which comes skill. With which comes an ability to make her dead over and over. She stays away.
Urchins - A few coins, and all the little birdies suddenly chirp to you for an hour. And that's all you need.

Background: Like many of the shadowy members of the Neath, not a lot is known about the good Mademoiselle's past. She wears good dress, carries herself like a man, and with a certain confidence to her step, and is known to have accomadation at the very edge of Watchmaker's Hill, where she makes a number of pocketwatches the few times she is not busy. When she is busy, she's either stalking the streets of Spite to get a rostygold ring or a whispered secret. If not that, then she's at Moloch or Veilgarden, gathering information for her... Well, it's not quite clear what exactly her relationship with Lady Monica is, but she does serve her, at least nominally.

That being said, what is known is that she claims to hail from France, and has the name and a certain exotic attitude to match with it.
Her accent doesn't quite seem to fit her claimed home country however, and she's always keeping an eye behind her- but weather this be thanks to spending too long in the 'Neath, and the standard nervous flitting that anyone that has accumulated enemies carries out is anyone's guess.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Templar Knight
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Templar Knight

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Name: Gideon Zanhast

Title: Captain

Moniker: The Ruinous Captain

Age: 38

Race: Human

Appearance:

Not a particularly flattering artist's depiction of the Ruinous Captain, but not necessarily one he'd disapprove of either.

Primary Attribute: Dangerous

Secondary Attribute: Shadowy

Connections:
-The Masters: Worthy Patrons and business partners, though most of my business with them is, or was, with Mr. Fires, and Mr. Irons. Have run odd jobs that likely benefited some of the others' schemes, knowing The Masters, but I wouldn't say I KNOW many of the others.
-Bohemians: Bunch of arrogant and pompous artists who've hardly worked a day of real work in their lives. Leave them to their poetry, plays, and paintings.
-Constables: They know me, whether I was on a Master's payroll or not they'd always look to come sniffing in my business. Sometimes we're able to reach a "mutual understanding", other times its a bit rougher. Now's one of those times with their Ministry of Public Decency.
-Criminals: The Cheery Man and his boys are old running mates and we get along famously, and all respect is given to the Gracious Widow. The Topsy King can join the Drownies for all I care.
-Hell: Half of the source of my moniker and a couple of my current working partnerships. The Urbane Devil and his Embassy pay a fine price for souls, and those willing to smuggle them in and out of London. Even visited the Iron Republic a few times, one of the strangest places in all the Neath, and like as not to drive a man mad, but exhilarating nonetheless.
-Revolutionaries: Foolish dreamers with dynamite, led by arrogant fools who name themselves after the months. But if they pay nicely, I wouldn't turn them down. Just don't expect to see me waving their banners out of faith.
-Rubbery Men: Seen a few in my time, always got along well enough with them. Stranger things than men with Octopi for heads.
-(High) Society: In their eyes, I wouldn't be fit to clean their boots, now. So unless one wants something exceptionally dirty done, they'd not see me, and certainly not in their Sunday best.
-Church: Bunch of old men and cloistered women in rags who don't know the true Gods that rule here, Salt, Stone, and Storm are the only Gods I know. And my associates in the Embassy don't really lend myself well to men of God, they're as like to curse me as a Sinner as I'm to knock them in the street for peddling their false religion.
-Docks: Wolfstack's my home, and always will be. More real of a place as you'll ever find in the Neath, the perfect place to find a bunch of lads either fearless or foolhardy enough to take on the Zee, and the same place to help one forget or fondly remember everything you see out there. Though the more respectable captains turn away when I come, all zailors know me by reputation, with equal parts respect and fear to my name.
-The Great Game: I know I'm a Pawn, and I don't rightly care. Let the Players play their game, I'll serve whoever gives me the best offer.
-The Tomb Colonies: Decent folk, regularly delivered many to Venderbight in my time. Many possess more wisdom than most of High Society in London, and its a good thing our Mayor's one of them.
-Urchins: They know not to touch me, lest they risk it be their last purse they try to grab with that hand. Not that I'm heartless, but more so that even I respect money earned rather than stolen or inherited. They stay out of my way, and I don't get in theirs.

Background:

A Zailor of London, Gideon escaped down into the Neath from a past he'd rather forget when he was 24. A physically capable and daring man, he took work aboard a ship named The "Victoria", while being named after her Imperial Majesty it was hardly so majestic, merely a cutter with faded hints of glory, but he took a bunk aboard and for years earned wages as zailor. Seeing both wonders and horrors in the Unterzee, coming face to face with death and madness around him on several occasions. One of which changed his fortunes for the better, though it was a harrowing process.

He had ascended to First Mate by this time at the age of 32, and it had been a long voyage out to the Carnelian Coast to then take a turn to the Isle of Cats when the ship was set upon by Rat-Barges out of Ratsey, pouring out of a bank of fog as cover. The small flotilla of resourceful rodents battered the Victoria with fire, with the Zailors exchanging salvos and ultimately winning the fight, but the ship being in bad shape, and and a quarter of the crew dead or dying from shrapnel and wounds, the Captain had been thrown clear from the ship, and no cries had rang out, leading Gideon and the remaining crew to believe him dead in the water. Half of the remaining men descended into panic, being out in the middle of the open Zee with no captain, a wounded vessel, and dead and dying men aboard. But Gideon stood firm, and after dispensing with one of the more panic-struck zailors by shooting the man dead and therefore stilling any more dissenters, he forced the remaining crew to their posts, and set about steering a safe way home.

By the time the ship arrived in Wolfstack Docks, the crew were a sullen and silent bunch, but many were alive, and gave curt thanks to Gideon for taking command and control of the situation. Now they could drown their fears in the pubs and relive them in nightmares, Gideon was left to his own affairs, and with nobody to contest his position, Gideon assumed ownership of the Victoria. Though the vessel was not worth his time to repair, he sold the ship and its parts in exchange for a new vessel, putting in a good chunk of his own savings he'd made over the years into a new Corvette, which he named "Jackdaw". For the last 6 years he's zailed the Unterzee, his dour countenance making as many friends as enemies, and made his name known for taking less than savory business offers for the right price, no questions asked and with more subtlety than the average brute. His reputation as a Captain is one of brutal fairness, you'd work to earn every echo you got, and obey his commands, but you'd hardly find a more honest Captain. Some say the Zee made as much a monster out of him as any that lurked beneath the waves, but he'd say that such moral busy-bodies would never be successful Zee-Captains, much less Zailors. The Zee is a unforgiving mistress, and one cannot be weak if they're to actually make a living on it.

Though in recent months, the Ruinous Captain has been stuck ashore, the Ministry of Public Decency taking an abnormally long time to investigate him on another trumped up case, and having impounded The Jackdaw, he's currently unable to return to the Zee. He's busied himself with odd-jobs around London, and was thus surprised to find an invitation to a particularly unusual Masquerade Ball. Normally he'd not even bother with such affairs, but the Masquerade did not seem to be the usual High Society affair, and the potential offer of a job tempted him to at least give it an ear.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by shylarah
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shylarah the crazy one

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Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Sofaking Fancy
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Sofaking Fancy Three Owls in a Trench Coat

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Name: Benjamin Obadiah Babbage
Title: Professor
Moniker: Inquisitive Researcher
Age: 32
Race: Human

Appearance:

Professor Benjamin Babbage is as stuffy as his name would imply. Of average height, the professor doesn’t cut a striking silhouette among his peers and colleagues. He does sport a rather dashing mustache that is tended to with the utmost care and consideration. His black hair is a bit shaggy but above the collar, parted on the side and paired with short sideburns—a bit of a departure from what is considered stylish, but, as many speculate, is due to the considerable effort he puts into his mustache. He might be silvering on the sides, rather young for it actually, but the temples of his glasses and tendency for hats makes it hard to tell. The professor has dim gray eyes and a noble nose, meaning that it’s a prominent feature on his face.

He dresses well, and while it is mostly utilitarian he does enjoy his odd splashes of color. Usually, he adorns himself in a black or gray sack coat, top button fastened while a bright waistcoat—complete with a pocket watch—shows itself. And this choice might come from years of scholarly endeavors where he sat more than he walked. Those choices showing themselves in the roundness of his middle. Though the professor had taken to sports at a younger age, so he’s not entirely without musculature—so says the professor, but we've seen him, and he's failry rotund. From there, his outfit doesn’t take any more consideration to be unique.

The professor enjoys standing with his feet apart and his lips set in an inquisitive twist. He usually is touching whatever he’s researching. But when his hands are by his person, they cross over his broad chest, gently stroke his mustache, or fiddle with his spectacles. In social situations, he talks with his hands if he’s enjoying himself, and if he’s not, he places them on his hips. He has very telling body language.

Primary Attribute: Watchful
Secondary Attribute: Persuasive

Connections:
The Masters: “I wouldn’t be a scholar if I didn’t exhaust all my possible resources, and the Masters are a rare and grand one. I don’t overstay my welcome, neither do I prod where one does not need prodding. But I have spoken in long berths with Mr. Wine and Mr. Pages.”
Bohemians: “They think of themselves as the forward innovators of our time when they’re actually petulant children living off the money of their parents.” He adjusts his bowtie. “Do not give me that look, I’m not being hypocritical. I’ve established my own income, and I’ve actually contributed to society.”
Constables: “If you ask me, they could do a better job of keeping the urchins from swarming me like the dirty pestilence they are. But I have no qualm with them.”
Criminals: “I am a man of importance and intellect. I gather my information from reputable sources.”
Hell: “I may have gotten drunk a few times and gladly tittered along with them, but I don’t deal much with Devils. I like my soul where it is.” He pauses and strokes his mustache. “Wherever that is.”
Revolutionaries: “A group of unorganized heathen gyrating in agonizing ineptitude. The Masters are an infinite fount of information. Would you so readily scrape away knowledge and wisdom?”
Rubbery Men: Benjamin considers it for a moment but doesn’t say anything. When asked about it again, he shrugs. “I have no quarrel with them. Though, from a scholar’s standpoint, I have so many questions. Unfortunately, they don’t have the means to answer.”
High Society: “I was born into low nobility. While I tend just fine in Society, High Society is not somewhere I shine from a noble’s standpoint. Though, I have been called to many intellectual parlors to discuss the Fourth City as a professor.” He looks proud and gives a sly smirk.
Church: “My eldest brother is a clergyman, and I attend regular service.” Benjamin looks like he has something else to say about the subject, but he remains quiet.
Docks: “I’ve taken a few trips across the zee for research purposes. That being said, I do not have a jovial rapport with the docks men and zailors.”
The Great Game: “I do not participate or have interest in the Great Game. But I’m not so daft as to not know that I’ve not been silently maneuvered within it.”
Tomb Colonies: Benjamin leans back, apparently having many a tale to regale about them. Unfortunately, he’s been asked to condense it. “I’ve used them as many a source in my research. They’re wise, intelligent, and a great resource. I respect them, and I don’t quite understand the vitriol set against them. Then again, if we based our interest and fondness upon appearances, I’m afraid we’d be led by daft lunatics.”
Urchins: “They’ve stolen my pocket watch five times. Jokes on them, after the second one was fenced, I’ve only purchased ones that are barely worth a penny.”

Background:
Benjamin Babbage was a child born with an unfortunate alliteration, that polite society nodded and accepted, and everyone else—with a thinking head on their shoulders—snorted at. He was born into nobility, but nothing of note. His family the social equivalent of that cousin you know nothing about, and so you buy gloves for them on their birthday. So, as such, his family does not just get by on being noble, they have careers and positions within society. Though, these positions are ones of clout. Many of the Babbages have taken to be clergymen. Benjamin’s eldest brother among them. Benjamin, on the other hand, was gifted with a great and grand need to be smarter than everyone else.

As such his fascination for the Fourth City, and not moving for long periods of time, bloomed at a young age, leading him to attend University—Summerset College of course, as he is not learning alongside upstarts and radicals. He’s participated in numerous archeological digs, but only ever funded three as his pockets are not infinite and sometimes half full of candies. From that he produced fine literature about the architecture and layout of the city, and from conversations with Tomb Colonists and zailors that have seen Khanate, he also wrote of their culture. Those immense books, possibly too dense to be door stops as one would never get their door closed again, never brought up anything groundbreaking but they did become a resource for many researchers to cite. And if one stacked the volumes up chronologically, they’d have a nice footrest. Though, the one thing they do offer is intricate drawings of places, things, and people. Benjamin, in another life, would have made quite the artist. In this one, he’s a stuffy intellectual that teaches and sometimes gets charcoal on his favorite white waistcoat.

As someone who usually tosses letters for various noble galas, Benjamin paused at one. He opened it up only to discover he’d been invited to a masquerade ball. With his parents leaning on him harder for marriage, as his brother wasn’t about to take up a wife and a family name, he accepted. Anything to get them be silent. Knowledge was his only lover, a thought he had in quiet and chuckled about.

Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Gordian Nought
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Gordian Nought Tanto Monta

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Name: Alfred Zorkybski
Title: Parlé
Moniker: Accountant; Gabby Gambler
Age: 43
Race: Human



Appearance:
Before donning his meticulous routine, but archaic, crumpled clothes, equipped with suspenders, pocket square, plus or minus fedora, Alfred never misses his 6 o'clock morning shave. He’s shorter than average and his greasy mid-brown hair’s starting to turn silver, though he gardens the tendrils close to his freckled scalp, cropped to hide a growing bald patch. The deep trenches on his face usually etch out a grin edged with seismic desperation, and his teeth, when he lets London take a gander, are ugly, yellowed tombstones jutting out of his tarred gums. He smokes cheap cigars, more because the batty hume irks people off their game. Caked in his Jewish face and ringed with dark bags, his blue eyes frequently sparkle with surprising intensity and wit.

Primary: Persuasive
Secondary: Watchful

The Masters - "Talk less; smile more. Unless you're with Pope Pages."

Bohemians - "Distractions birthed for the proleteriat; they are indeed the Aspidistra in this filth city."
Constables - "Your books must be without blemish. Especially if they are gonna trust you with their laundry. Bribes to the Constables guarentee smoke, quiet conversation and endless movement of money. What could be finer for an unlicensed gambling den to be unmolested?"

Criminals - "Never be in debt to the Gracious Widow. Her shadow will loom over your uncollected grave. Take it from me; steer clear."

Hell - "No one pays better. They even barter in souls."
Revolutionaries - "A poor lot. Their triple or nothing attitude is risky and tends to lose in the long haul. Take a picture. It will last longer."
Rubbery Men - "They possess the best poker faces I've ever faced. Pardon the double down Echo."
The Society - "I was invited to a ball, wasn't I?"
The Church - "Already sold it. Sorry, Father. You can't take it with you anyways, right?"
The Docks - "Great place to NOT funnel money."
The Great Game - "I always was terrible with checkers. Chess, on the other hand, is best played while talking trash."
Tomb Colonies - "Met the mayor twice; he sucked at cards. Both times."
Urchins - "One good debt deserves another, and this gaggle can reinforce said payments. If their time and reimbursement are right."

Background:
Indentured as a teenager from across the Channel, this Frenchie dove deep into the financial crannies of England's finest, only after the Echo Bazaar's tumultuous tincture. London obviously lost, but no one cared a quarter of a century later. Freddy now knows that losing is not only statistical, but also predictable; Alf, as a Constable accountant of more than two decades, wagers on this entropic certainty. He lurks frequently between the roulette wheel, the craps table, and the to-and-fros of hybrid poker in the city's pervasive risky nooks, observing, calculating and ultimately banking on the rationality of the typical gambler. His job, simply, is to make sure the House always wins, while simultaneously pleasing the masses and keeping his nose clean.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Ms Ravenwinter
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Ms Ravenwinter Purveyor of Internet Twattery

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23

Human

Shadowy

Watchful

The Masters - "I'd never deal with 'em directly, and thank the zee that I've never had to. They're good business and all that, but I'll stick to their fences, thank you kindly."
Bohemians - "Idiots, the lot of 'em. No use stickin' your head in the clouds and dreaming about the Surface down here in Neath. If you can't manage it here in the muck, then good luck finding some place better. The only respect I have for 'em are for the con artists."
Constables - "I'd say I'd spit on 'em, but they're at least good for something. Scrubbing sticky-fingered lads you don't like from your turf."
Criminals - "Back when I was a pesky little brat, the Cheery Man picked me up. Took me off the streets and put me in strangers' houses, pilferin' for my food. Like most of us, I've left him by now. But the old man sends some odd jobs my way ev'ry now and again. The Tosspot King may rule the Flit now, but I'm not gonna sully myself by playing magic tricks for his gang. Glad he wasn't around when I was scurrying the rooftops. But the Widow? Now that's a shrewd businesswoman. Done plenty o' jobs for her. At least before my current employment."
Hell - "You might say we have a 'working relationship' o' sorts. While my soul is certainly right where it should be, I have a debt to settle with 'em. Have had for some years now. Even Devils sometimes need someone who works the shadows, aye?"
Revolutionaries - "While I'm not so keen on the Masters myself, I at least understand that they have a function. And tearing them down won't do my kind well. Where will the Echoes flow then, hm?"
Rubbery Men - "Never got anything worthwhile in their purses, and I can never tell if I'm sellin' back to whom I stole it from."
The Society - "When you live in the gutter, you learn a certain special kind of hatred for them in their palaces."
The Church - "Chastity, temperance, philanthropy, and tithes? No, thank you."
The Docks - "Veilgarden's where I get my drink, mostly. People there're too busy talkin' to notice a lightened purse. But, a roudy pub ain't a bad place to visit when your purse is nearly empty and you need some strong whiskey."
The Great Game - "They think me a Pawn, but I have schemes of my own, too."
Tomb Colonies - "I try not to fleece 'em too much. Only a matter of time 'til I'm one of 'em."
Urchins - "Always more of 'em in the shadows than there are adults. Never hurts to give 'em a few pence and a warm place to stay for a night if it means they stay out of your pockets. Might even learn a thing or two for your trouble."

While she may not speak on her background much, it is undeniable that she stinks of the Airs of London. A true Londoner, born and reared on these very glim-lit streets. And while she's still quite the young, spritely thing, she's more savvy to these dark alleyways than many professionals of her creed. And yet, she's never really aspired to rise above the criminal life. The more practical goal, at least in her mind, is to use what talents she's learned to cut out the biggest slice of the pie for herself. As to whether it's been much of a success by now or not, well... At least she hasn't been shipped off overzees in a box. Or in pieces.

Certainly, the risk must be worth the riches.

A peculiar and quite recent occurrence in her life was how she came to know of the masquerade. Several evenings before, she had taken it upon herself to intercept some postage. Some flighty heiress was paying good rosty to keep tabs on her betrothed, paranoid of an affair derailing their upcoming marriage. Lizzy always liked these jobs because she could steam the letters open alongside her tea. It made for fine entertainment. However, instead of the racy correspondence she expected, the envelope contained an invitation. One addressed to the Latchkey herself.
Hidden 6 yrs ago Post by Mortarion
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