Post by Catsmate on May 30, 2022 19:16:44 GMT
Another item that's been languishing in my notes for a while. It's not really related to the Arbour, but is a more substantial point of weirdness for a campaign. In fact a campaign could be built around it, and its occupants.
This piece is nowhere near finished, contributions and ideas are welcome.
The Arcade.
There are weak points in reality, spots where the fabric of reality (so-called) is slightly distorted. Places where times flows differently and different places and eras intersect. In most cases this is a minor oddity, easily ignored, forgotten or simply missed by the great majority of people. In other cases it is more obvious and problematic.
An arcade is the predecessor to the "shopping mall", an indoor market where independent shops operate under one roof. This particular one is old, built over 150 years ago and has about fifty small tenants, some of whom have date back to the original opening.
Not just the shops, the tenant.
Constructed in Victorian red brick and ironwork, with lots of windows, some elaborately coloured, the arcade possesses two levels of shops (ground and a mezzanine), plus apartments and a few offices on the second floor, and a basement (known as the undercroft) for storage and deliveries.
The arcade has weathered changes in prosperity, laws, government, nationality, shopping habits and more.
Perhaps this is down to the fact that time passes differently there. To most customers this is unnoticeable; a leisurely a cup of tea and a pastry seem to have only consumed a couple of minutes, but to those more aware of the building’s oddities, or more attuned to them, the effect is profound. Aging is retarded and life prolonged.
The building possesses a few other oddities; the main one is that things and people can sometimes pass through from other time periods.
The Owners.
Who exactly owns the arcade is a matter for conjecture to most people, even most tenants. A good forensic accountant could spend months exploring a century old mess of companies, trusts, title changes and more.
The Management.
For day-to-day matters people deal with a manager (Mr. Bernard Molton) appointed by lawyers representing the owners, and a management company answerable to him who provide cleaning, maintenance and security staff on a rotating basis.
The Cabal.
When it comes to dealing with the more outré manifestations and preserving the Arcade's secrets there is a small group who refer to themselves, almost jocularly, as the Ruling Cabal1. The most active members of this group are Lady Michelle
Young Mr. Carlisle, Ms. Henderson, Sergeant Corrigan and Mr. Thackery.
Lady Michelle is a professional dominatrix, a profession which has given her a level of discretion, a deep knowledge of human psychology and a range of contacts. She operates from a premises in the undercroft, which has its own exterior entrance, as well as a door from the maze of passages and rooms down there; it previously was used by a now-deceased fortune teller. She has an apartment on the second floor.
Young Mr. Carlisle is a lawyer (solicitor) of some repute specialising in abtruse matters of property law. While he appears a spry man in his sixties he will be entering his second century in a couple of years. His knowledge of local history is encyclopedic. His third interest is orchids, of which he has an excellent collect in his apartment and rooftop greenhouse.
He acts for the owners in all legal matters regarding the arcade.
Ms. Henderson is the youngest member of the cabal and the owner of a bakery/cafe on the ground and basement levels (the undercroft houses the actual baking operation). She's still a bit bewildered (and bewondered) by the nature of the arcade. She inherited the business (and a second floor apartment) from her great-aunt about five years ago. Recently her student niece has started to work for Mr. Thackery
Mr. Thackery is a man who's looked "in his forties" for at least three decades. His emporium, "Thackery's" is a bookseller specialising in antiques and rare books, though with a strong general second-hand business too. Unusually his leasehold encompasses all four floors, with the main entrance on the ground floor, a larger section including his office and the more valuable and unusual works on the mezzanine, the second-hand department in a maze of rooms in the basement and his apartment (connected to the office) on the second.
Sergeant Corrigan is a former soldier (military police, twenty years, staff sergeant) and looks it. He was left an apartment a decade ago by an officer whose life he'd saved in one of the drier parts of the world, in a skirmish that never officially happened. Now he handles security for the arcade, managing a small group of contract staff, and liaising with the manager, Mr. Carlisle, the police and the various tenants. He also helps handle any outré incidents that need more muscle.
The cats.
Introduced as working animals when the arcade was built there are an indeterminate number of felines roaming the halls. Many people get a strange 'vibe' from them.
The Tenants.
The upper levels.
The mezzanine has a few offices (including the manager and Mr. Carlisle's legal practice), some retain businesses, an excellent cafe and patisserie ("Rachels") while the second floor has a number of surprisingly large and well appointed apartments.
The undercroft.
A maze of brick lined rooms and corridors with very little natural light. Very few people understand it's exact layout.
Comments? Ideas? Contributions? Suggestions?
1. Anyone guess where I borrowed that from?
This piece is nowhere near finished, contributions and ideas are welcome.
The Arcade.
James Thackery looked up suddenly from the tea he was drinking and peered over the railing at the lowest level of the arcade below them. Lady Michelle was her usual perceptive self and inclined an eyebrow interrogatively.
“Another one” he confirmed
“The third this month” she noted.
Her observation needed no reply and he stood, eyes, and other senses, active, scanning below for the oddity that has occurred. The usual place for people to… arrive was the area on the east side of the arcade at ground level.
“There” Michelle interjected. She did nothing so vulgar as point, but he immediately picked up the newcomer emerging from the middle corridor on the arcade’s east side from her nod.
Young he noted, a girl looking about fifteen. Clothing dishevelled and rather grubby. And utterly wrong for 2022 of course. More like that of a street urchin from the Victorian era..
Which she quite probably was, he thought.
“Shall we go down and greet our new arrival?” his companion asked.
“Indeed we should” he replied.
“Another one” he confirmed
“The third this month” she noted.
Her observation needed no reply and he stood, eyes, and other senses, active, scanning below for the oddity that has occurred. The usual place for people to… arrive was the area on the east side of the arcade at ground level.
“There” Michelle interjected. She did nothing so vulgar as point, but he immediately picked up the newcomer emerging from the middle corridor on the arcade’s east side from her nod.
Young he noted, a girl looking about fifteen. Clothing dishevelled and rather grubby. And utterly wrong for 2022 of course. More like that of a street urchin from the Victorian era..
Which she quite probably was, he thought.
“Shall we go down and greet our new arrival?” his companion asked.
“Indeed we should” he replied.
There are weak points in reality, spots where the fabric of reality (so-called) is slightly distorted. Places where times flows differently and different places and eras intersect. In most cases this is a minor oddity, easily ignored, forgotten or simply missed by the great majority of people. In other cases it is more obvious and problematic.
An arcade is the predecessor to the "shopping mall", an indoor market where independent shops operate under one roof. This particular one is old, built over 150 years ago and has about fifty small tenants, some of whom have date back to the original opening.
Not just the shops, the tenant.
Constructed in Victorian red brick and ironwork, with lots of windows, some elaborately coloured, the arcade possesses two levels of shops (ground and a mezzanine), plus apartments and a few offices on the second floor, and a basement (known as the undercroft) for storage and deliveries.
The arcade has weathered changes in prosperity, laws, government, nationality, shopping habits and more.
Perhaps this is down to the fact that time passes differently there. To most customers this is unnoticeable; a leisurely a cup of tea and a pastry seem to have only consumed a couple of minutes, but to those more aware of the building’s oddities, or more attuned to them, the effect is profound. Aging is retarded and life prolonged.
The building possesses a few other oddities; the main one is that things and people can sometimes pass through from other time periods.
The Owners.
Who exactly owns the arcade is a matter for conjecture to most people, even most tenants. A good forensic accountant could spend months exploring a century old mess of companies, trusts, title changes and more.
The Management.
For day-to-day matters people deal with a manager (Mr. Bernard Molton) appointed by lawyers representing the owners, and a management company answerable to him who provide cleaning, maintenance and security staff on a rotating basis.
The Cabal.
When it comes to dealing with the more outré manifestations and preserving the Arcade's secrets there is a small group who refer to themselves, almost jocularly, as the Ruling Cabal1. The most active members of this group are Lady Michelle
Young Mr. Carlisle, Ms. Henderson, Sergeant Corrigan and Mr. Thackery.
Lady Michelle is a professional dominatrix, a profession which has given her a level of discretion, a deep knowledge of human psychology and a range of contacts. She operates from a premises in the undercroft, which has its own exterior entrance, as well as a door from the maze of passages and rooms down there; it previously was used by a now-deceased fortune teller. She has an apartment on the second floor.
Young Mr. Carlisle is a lawyer (solicitor) of some repute specialising in abtruse matters of property law. While he appears a spry man in his sixties he will be entering his second century in a couple of years. His knowledge of local history is encyclopedic. His third interest is orchids, of which he has an excellent collect in his apartment and rooftop greenhouse.
He acts for the owners in all legal matters regarding the arcade.
Ms. Henderson is the youngest member of the cabal and the owner of a bakery/cafe on the ground and basement levels (the undercroft houses the actual baking operation). She's still a bit bewildered (and bewondered) by the nature of the arcade. She inherited the business (and a second floor apartment) from her great-aunt about five years ago. Recently her student niece has started to work for Mr. Thackery
Mr. Thackery is a man who's looked "in his forties" for at least three decades. His emporium, "Thackery's" is a bookseller specialising in antiques and rare books, though with a strong general second-hand business too. Unusually his leasehold encompasses all four floors, with the main entrance on the ground floor, a larger section including his office and the more valuable and unusual works on the mezzanine, the second-hand department in a maze of rooms in the basement and his apartment (connected to the office) on the second.
- Many customers joke that the place is far larger inside than out; a select few of them know this is true.
Sergeant Corrigan is a former soldier (military police, twenty years, staff sergeant) and looks it. He was left an apartment a decade ago by an officer whose life he'd saved in one of the drier parts of the world, in a skirmish that never officially happened. Now he handles security for the arcade, managing a small group of contract staff, and liaising with the manager, Mr. Carlisle, the police and the various tenants. He also helps handle any outré incidents that need more muscle.
The cats.
Introduced as working animals when the arcade was built there are an indeterminate number of felines roaming the halls. Many people get a strange 'vibe' from them.
The Tenants.
- Cafes
- Restaurant
- A piercing and tattooing parlour
- A few small clothing shops, and boutiques, often or second hand.
- Gourmet food vendor
- A legal practice
- Management office
- Bookshop
- Art dealer
- Art supplies
- Jewellery
- Coins
- Confectionery
- Games
The upper levels.
The mezzanine has a few offices (including the manager and Mr. Carlisle's legal practice), some retain businesses, an excellent cafe and patisserie ("Rachels") while the second floor has a number of surprisingly large and well appointed apartments.
The undercroft.
A maze of brick lined rooms and corridors with very little natural light. Very few people understand it's exact layout.
Comments? Ideas? Contributions? Suggestions?
1. Anyone guess where I borrowed that from?
Well I do like cats, and they have a reputation for odd behaviour, perhaps they better see the weirdness?
OK.