The Tomb-Colonies

Few die in Fallen London. They come here instead.

A cheerless nook in a far corner of the Neath. Known chiefly for its flowstone, its masks and its depraved bats.

The Tomb-Colonies: home to outcasts, the generally disgraced, and of course, zombies. (Well, Fallen Londoners call them tomb-colonists, but still... they're undead.) These dreary encampments lie north of London.

A Maelstrom of Scandal!

Only Londoners in exile may visit the general area. Exiled Londoners are often forced to reside here until their names are cleared. Life in the tomb-colonies is depressing, especially when sudden movements often result in a loss of limbs. Because of this, it's no surprise that many tomb-colonists choose to visit or reside in London proper; it's possible to get acquainted with them if you have a fascination with the morbid. The tomb-colonies have existed far before London, and visitors may encounter tomb-colonists who date back to the Third City. Certain factions may own private tomb-colonies of their own, such as the the God-Eaters.

Venderbight is the largest tomb-colony, and it is the only port open to those who wish to travel to the Tomb-Colonies by zee. There are some amenities for visitors, given that it's the area's only port, but these are... rather meager. But of course, if most of the residents are undead, amenities are not usually necessary. Tomb-colonists pay handsomely for sending new exiles to Venderbight, transport is often by coffin.

The Grand Sanatorium, the largest building in Venderbight, is where some tomb-colonists go to waste away into nothing. They consider this more dignified than the alternatives, such as being eaten by moths or dying in combat, but of course everyone's choice of death is different.

Another tomb-colony by the name of Xibalba is known to exist. There are many other minor tomb-colonies, but they're unnamed as of now.

The Tomb-Colonists

Tomb-colonists: technically, passengers rather than goods. But you'd never know it to talk to them.

The tomb-colonists are quite notorious for their experiences that stretch far beyond those of normal humans, such as in dueling, chess, and yes, even sex, making them extremely dangerous if provoked. The tomb-colonist dueling style favors well-practiced and precise forms over the unrefined assaults of the typical riffraff. Generally speaking, a person becomes a tomb-colonist by being thoroughly, thoroughly beaten; it's no wonder that many tomb-colonists are duelists or other daring individuals. Being injured to the point of exile is basically permanent, and people may be subjected to this punishment to escape society for good. Despite their horrific appearances, tomb-colonists are basically themselves except moldier and weaker, so they can be perfectly respectable individuals if treated as such.

A frost-moth.

Tomb-colonies who severely overstay their welcome may spawn frost-moths. Apparently these creatures use tomb-colonists as a sort of cocoon. Tomb-colonists have mixed feelings about these things; some see their births as a ritual of sorts, called "emergance"; others consider them filthy.

The source of some of London's candles? Tomb-colonist fat. These candles are called mourning candles, and they give off a "smudgy, dolorous light".

Notable Tomb-Colonists

Feducci is the self-styled Prince of the Tomb-Colonies. He's usually seen covered in bandages and runs an underground dueling society. However, there may be more to him than meets the eye...

The Once-Dashing Smuggler

An acquaintance has told you of a Once-Dashing Smuggler who's in need of help. Your friend is willing to make an introduction.

The Once-Dashing Smuggler

The Once-Dashing Smuggler is a mysterious and highly gallant tomb-colonist who may be looking for a new romance. He's highly competent at his job, and a good cook as well, though he may be a little too trusting. The Smuggler is often seen in a purple suit, and he's fond of Myrrh-Scented Roses. It turns out he's from the Fourth City, and he may have had a relationship with the Gracious Widow.

The First Curator

A bandaged shape no larger than a child lies crumpled on a couch. It lifts its head with obvious effort. It takes several seconds for you to distinguish its voice from the soft buzz of the bees.

The First Curator. No, you can't see him.

The First Curator is responsible for the preservation of all the tomb-colonies. Residing in Venderbight, he apparently dates back the the Third City. As a result, he's by far the most rotted of the tomb-colonists; he can barely even move or speak, so the Obsequious Steward covers for him. The Curator lies in total darkness and is frightened by the frost moths, and wants to see the Neathbow before he finally expires. He'll pay handsomely in return.