HERRAMIENTAS

Hyde Park becomes a major social center for the upper and middle-upper classes in the 1880s. It begins as the place to be seen, and becomes a place one almost must be seen. Sundays see the wealthy and the wish-to-be-wealthy flood the park, to ride and to flirt, to watch and to be watched.

The Park becomes something of a fashion show, as well, with the mistresses of wealthy men, fashionable courtesans, and actresses coming to show off their extraordinary coifs and dresses, their riding, and their unrepentant sexuality. London’s respectable ladies come as much to watch the strumpets as to take the air, and the Sunday dress of a courtesan might become the Monday dress of a well-to-do lady.

Characters who mingle with the upper classes will at some point find themselves in Hyde Park on a bright Sunday, and immersed in the seemingly light but decidedly sharp social interplay.

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church of St Mary-le-Bow, and to be a true Cockney it’s said one must be born within earshot of these bells. Indeed, there seems to be some truth to this. Babies born while the bells rang sometimes speak of hearing the bells as adults in their dying moments, regardless of where they lay breathing their last.

Chelsea: A somewhat fashionable if modern area of West London chiefly known for its throngs of artists and writers, and the wealthy who appreciate living among them. It is an island of jaunty Bohemia, and welcomes intellectual radicals as easily as painters. Less well known, Chelsea is also the home of some of London’s most famous (and infamous) spiritualists, mediums, yogic teachers, and other mystics. Even less well known, at least five genuine sorcerers make their residences in Chelsea, and observing the neighborhood with occult senses reveals the webs of intertwined Works coiled about it like wrestling snakes.

Chelsea Hospital: Located near Chelsea Embankment, and accessible easily by boat or omnibus. Founded in the time of Charles II as a hospital for old soldiers, it has become a center for prosthetic medicine as more and more of Her Majesty’s faithful return from abroad incomplete, having left an arm or leg in some dirty hospital tent far afield. The hospital was expanded in 1865, and can now accommodate three times its original capacity of 500 veterans. Research into Strange methods of restoring the injured take place in the hospital’s new East Wing, and it has advanced the esoteric fields of treating faerie afflic-tions and occult injuries. Its dining hall is hung with over a hundred flags taken from battles fought across the world and century.

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The City: The core of London’s medieval bounds has become home to the Empire’s great financial engines, such as the business offices of Babbage Computational and Cayley-Vickers Aeronautic. Increasingly, those who work in the City live outside it and commute in via the new trains.

Administratively, the City remains semi-independent from the rest of London and polices its own streets. The City of London Police cooperate easily with the Metropolitan police and Scotland Yard, but have a chilly relationship with Special Branch—they maintain their own small group of discreet Strangers for unusual investigations. Respect the City and don’t make a spectacle of yourself, and they’re happy to leave you alone.

Covent Garden: Like so much of London, this area takes its name from the markets of earlier days. It is home to the vibrant Covent Garden Theater, known for the wide and unexpected breadth of its productions—one month a very traditional performance of Shakespeare, the next an experimental work heavily reliant on the new “illusory effects” and cold fireworks bought from New Birmingham.

The precursors to the Metropolitan Police, the Bow Street Runners, had their headquarters here.

Fleet Street: Stretching from the City of London to Westminster, Fleet Street is home to London’s vibrant press. Dozens of daily papers are written and printed here. The street is peopled with newsmen and writers, with ink-stained fingers and notebooks in their pockets.

As Victoria’s apparatus becomes more concerned with the spreading of salacious rumor—or worse, damaging facts—

Special Branch comes to be a regular presence on Fleet Street, and they meet the resentful looks they receive with their usual unwavering glare. This leads to some of Fleet Street’s regulars operating sideline presses off the main way, printing special editions anonymously. The Underground Press remains a thorn in Victoria’s side through the last quarter of Her rule.

Hyde Park: London’s largest park, and a hub of fashionable society. The bridal path Rotten Row is thronged on Sundays

with the fashionable, and those wishing to look upon them.

Strangers wishing to make a splash in society find Hyde Park a surprisingly receptive theater; the Quality gathered are already prepared somewhat for spectacle. A trollop’s elaborate riding costume must be studied so as to replicate it. The flying man is simply a novel distraction from the serious business of flirting and socializing.

Jacob’s Island: A notorious area of London bordering the Thames and home to numerous warehouses, as well as a truly shocking rookery of the filthiest sort. Bordered by tidal ditches, docks, and warehouses, the inhabitants of Jacob’s Island live in truly desperate poverty of such an objectionable sort that even those seeking a thrill or moral lesson by slumming find it beyond their endurance. The sewage of the residents, along with the output of factories and assorted animal waste, run into the ditches, and so the place is surrounded by stink. During the 1840s the Island is haunted by Spring-Heel Jack, a mysterious figure alter-nately described as a demon, a demonically-ugly man, or one wearing a terrible mask. He leaps over walls, menaces and assaults people, and breathes fire (so reports would have it). Few wish to spend the time needed to investigate Sping-Heel in this stinking slum.

Pall Mall: Named for the favorite ballgame of Charles II, and now home to many of London’s most exclusive gentleman’s clubs. Pall Mall is the first street to receive gas lighting, and the first to be lit with electric lights, and late in the century it’s where the first private tiered automotive stable is constructed, allowing gentlemen to park their vehicles when visiting their clubs.

Piccadilly: Busy and thronging area of upper-class residences and shopping. Home to Piccadilly Circus, the London Pavilion music hall, and the Criterion Theater. After the theaters let out the nightlife picks up; restaurants are open late and friendly company is usually readily available.

Regent’s Park: A well-groomed suburb owing much to John Nash’s efforts during the Regency. Most exciting for the extensive Zoological Park opened in 1828, and

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uously expanded through the century to accommodate Strange new creatures.

Royal Exchange: The ’Change is where the business of commerce is done, commodities trading, investment, and other mercantile concerns. Breaking the ’Change becomes as much an obsession for certain criminals as robbing the Bank of England is for others, and officials are always on the lookout for sharp dealers and confidence trick-sters trying to ply their trade here. There are some quite-alarming rumors that such individuals when captured are not turned over to the police, but rather something else, something wholly less pleasant, is done to them.

St. James’ Palace: The royal residence until 1837, when Victoria moves to Buckingham Palace. The grounds of St.

James’ are then made over into parkland. The palace itself is sometimes lent out for use as gallery or exhibition space, with the Queen’s permission.

St. James’ Square: Home to several gentleman’s clubs, the most famous of course being the Kerberos Club. That club’s neighbors keep up a valiant battle against its creeping Strangeness, however, and doggedly refuse to be displaced regardless of how unsettling the neighbors become, or the damage their buildings suffer by miss-aimed hellfire. The Kerberos Club’s willingness to make good on such damages, and compensate its neighbors for the inconvenience, at least keeps things civil on the surface.

Seven Dials: Where seven streets converge at St. Giles, they form a compass with directions pointing directly to the seven deadly sins. This district is one of criminality and poverty, with an infamous slum. During the Famine the Irish flood this district, and for many—as bad as it becomes for them, packed into tiny filthy rooms—it remains an improvement over the conditions back home. Seven Dials is supposed to be the notorious source for the faerie drug called (among other colorful names) Red Lady’s Slipper. During the 1890s, the Slipper threatens to push opium out

of London with its popularity alone, and

this leads to what the press dub the

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Little Opium War in the mid-1890s, as the procurers and providers of the two drugs battle for territory in the streets.

Opium wins a decisive victory with the burning of the house in Seven Dials where Red Lady’s Slipper is refined from the excrement of faerie cattle fed on certain mushrooms.

Smithfield: Until the mid-1850s, the home to London’s live cattle market. On market days the streets are ankle-deep in stinking mire and filled with the brays and bleats of beasts bought, sold and slaughtered. Smithfield Market is a point of reference for Londoners looking to describe a place as noisy and chaotic. Even after the market is moved to Islington there remains in Smithfield the ghost of the all the filth and cruelty; the flagstones seem to have soaked it up. Local legends of the Raw-Head Man and the Skinned Sow propagate, and violent poltergeist activity is common through the end of the century, defying even Church exorcists efforts to banish.

Whitechapel: Early in the century an area known for its coaching inns for travelers, by mid-century it is instead known as a notorious neighborhood troubled by poverty and prostitution—and then as one protected by a particu-larly frightening guardian angel, the Night Hag. It becomes infamous late in the century for Jack the Ripper’s reign of terror. Named for the whitewashed Chapel of Ease, the area’s fortunes sway up and down. After the Atlantean assault on the city, and the Automechanical Mutiny, Whitechapel is overrun with displaced residents from other areas, and conditions worsen dramatically. These conditions make the Ripper’s killings easier, and the Hag’s job of keeping order on the streets much harder.

Whitehall: The center of much of the Empire’s power, located in Westminster and named for Henry VIII’s palace built here in the 1530s. The Prime Minister’s residence at No. 10 Downing Street is here, along with other government offices. With the Queen’s more active role in politics and policy-making, especially with Her close alliance with Benjamin Disraeli late in the century, Her coach and entourage is a frequent sight. Like the City, Whitehall has its own small

and dedicated force of Strangers tasked with watching and securing it from danger. The spate of dynamite attacks in the 1870s result in Downing Street being closed to coach and automotive traffic, and only official coaches are permitted to drive down the street. Freed from traffic, the street itself becomes a mobile market for upscale goods and trinkets. You can purchase a lunch on the street from a Downing Street vendor which would shame many West End cafés.

Locations of