Mr Sacks

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"A knock on your door. A hunched figure. Every year, this Crimson Beast of Winter brings his terrible sack, demanding gifts to fill the void. And now you hear a high-pitched, faintly peevish voice: 'What will you put in my sack?'"[1]

Mr Sacks appears during Fallen London's demented version of Christmas, known colloquially as Sacksmas. The creature is also known as the Crimson Beast of Winter.[2]

The First Mr Sacks

"The Crimson Beast of Winter towers above you on the snow-drowned street, its sack open wide to receive your offering. "I WILL TAKE ALL YOU CAN GIVE. I WILL TAKE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE. I WILL TAKE MORE.""[3]

The original Mr Sacks wore a red robe trimmed with white fur that smelled of musk and ammonia.[4] It was considered one of the Masters of the Bazaar, though unlike the others, it did not speak in a shrill voice. Instead, it was noted for its gravelly tone.[5]

During the Sacksmas season, in a departure from Surface Christmas traditions, people were expected to give gifts to Mr Sacks rather than receive them.[5] However, those who wished to keep their valuables could offer their “best regards” instead. This gesture upset Mr Sacks but did not result in any loss for the giver,[6] though, unfortunately, this only worked once.[7] Interestingly, Mr Sacks accepted metaphysical gifts as well. People could offer their scandals,[8] nightmares,[9] the sounds of footsteps,[10] etc. It was even capable of making the Boatman forget the giver's wounds.[11] Some Londoners exploited Mr Sacks’s willingness to accept burdens as gifts. They offloaded painful memories, troublesome objects, unwanted feelings.[12][13] However, Mr Sacks never kept these offerings as it simply redistributed them elsewhere across the Neath.[14]

Some particularly unwise Londoners went so far as to offer themselves, willingly entering Mr Sacks’s sack.[15] Surprisingly, those who entered were not trapped forever. They were eventually released back into their lodgings, though they reported the experience as deeply unpleasant.[16] They described the interior of the sack as dark and far more spacious than it appeared from the outside.[17] It contained the many gifts Mr Sacks had collected: packages filled with knick-knacks imbued with memories,[18] animals,[19] other people,[20] and various curiosities.

Mr Sacks allowed Londoners to take a gift from its sack, but only if it was meant for someone else.[21] Those who tried to spy on Mr Sacks were hunted down by the creature and its urchins.[22] Greedy thieves who managed to steal the sack were rarely rewarded; most were afflicted with nightmares, found the sack empty, or in extremely rare cases, received something of real value.[23] Those who failed in their theft were punished by the horrors contained within the sack.[24]

Mr Sacks was always accompanied by urchins who were said to have made a pact with it. According to rumor, each winter they placed the last year of their lives into its sack, allowing them to remain children indefinitely.[25] This claim remained unconfirmed: the urchins either joked about it[26] or become evasive when asked.[27] Regardless, they acted as Mr Sacks’s attendants and couriers,[28] and seemed to know secrets no ordinary child should.[29] When Mr Sacks visited, some guardians gave away their children to it. These abandoned urchins were given a choice: enter the sack or work for Mr Sacks. Those who agreed to serve it were fed wine and snow and were gifted items from the sack.[30] Mr Sacks appeared to respect them, having once learned “never to cross an urchin.”[31]

Mr Sacks favored gifts of wine, particularly bottles of Greyfields 1868 First Sporing.[32] Despite its mysterious and powerful nature, even Mr Sacks struggled with the Eater-of-Chains.[33] It could manifest in dreams, and any gift given to it in a dream caused the equivalent object to disappear from the waking world. For example, someone who offered themselves to the sack in a dream would never wake up again.[34] The original Mr Sacks is apparently an amalgam of various individuals: some human and some not.[35] This Mr Sacks was the first Noman to ever exist.[36]

Mr Sacks also experimented with the creation of Nomen,[37] though all of its efforts were deemed failures.[38] Mr Wines was especially concerned about these experiments and secretly sabotaged them.[39] It remains unclear what the original Mr Sacks hoped to achieve through these efforts, but perhaps these failed experiments had something to do with its eventual disappearance and replacement by other versions of Mr Sacks in 1890.

The Sacks

"The Neath-snow has fallen more thickly this week. Mr Sacks, too, seems thick on the ground. Cloaked and hooded Masterly figures are visiting certain addresses not once but several times, demanding gifts. What is going on?"[40]

Starting in 1890, the habits of Mr Sacks changed unexpectedly. Gone were the attendant urchins, and although each new Mr Sacks still wore the crimson robe, carried the heavy brown sack, and demanded gifts, observers noted subtle shifts in voice[41] and mannerism.[42] More intriguingly, Mr Sacks began to appear multiple times throughout the holiday season rather than in a single annual visit.[43] In fact, it gradually became clear that these were not one but many Mr Sacks,[44] the Nomen of the Masters, each referring to its respective Master as an Original.[44]

As Christmas approaches, the Bazaar grows unusually melancholy, and its lacre reservoirs swell with sorrow. In earlier times, whenever the gloom became unbearable, a Mr Sacks would emerge from the lacre. This Mr Sacks would roam London, gathering small comforts, precious trinkets, heartwarming stories, even the occasional strategic “abduction” on the Bazaar’s behalf to stave off despair and prevent the city from drowning in lacre. Today, however, that Mr Sacks no longer appears. Instead, the Nomen of the Masters take up the duty instead. If this ritual falters and the lacre floods over into London, it will deprive the Stone Pigs of their lacre, making them wake up and destroy everything. Thus, in moments of overflow and festive loneliness, the Bazaar still dispatches these Sacks.[45] They are also useful for gathering information or resources under festive pretenses and, occasionally, for spreading genuine cheer. According to Lilac, the relationship between a Master and their Nomen is akin to parenthood.[46]

Chronology of Appearances

  • The first visitor is the Nomen of Mr Spices, instantly recognizable by its propensity for honey[47] and a voice uncannily similar to its Original’s.[48]
  • On day two, the Nomen of Mr Wines arrives. It speaks in a warm alto reminiscent of its Master,[49] carries a taste for fine wine and songs,[50] and is perhaps the most genial of all the Sacks.[51]
  • Day three brings the Nomen of Mr Stones, who demands only diamonds; no other gift will satisfy it[52]
  • After a brief pause on the fourth day, the Nomen of Mr Mirrors appears on the fifth. It cryptically insinuates that the first two Sacks (Spices and Wines) sought to rule dreams, whereas it merely reflects them.[53] It shows a particular fondness for mirror-dreams[54] and hints that “Cups” is one of its names, a hint at the connection between Mr Mirrors and Mr Cups.[55]
  • The Nomen of Mr Pages arrives with an evident love of the written word and a penchant for coining new terms, neologisms spill from its lips as readily as requests for parchment[56]
  • Day seven’s visitor is the Nomen of Mr Fires, its focus unmistakably London-centric, a testament to its Original’s love for the city.[57]
  • On the eighth, Silas the Showman turns up disguised as the Crimson Beast of Winter. He had fallen on hard times due to low ticket sales at Mahogany Hall and pretended to be Mr Sacks to swindle Londoners.[58]
  • The ninth Nomen is strikingly different: draped in a white robe trimmed with red fox-fur, it delivers sinister gifts rather than taking them.[59] This Mr Sacks is the Noman of the one who was drowned, Mr Eaten, or as he was originally called, Mr Candles.[60]
  • The tenth day’s Mr Sacks is the Nomen of Mr Veils.[61]
  • On the eleventh, the Noman of Mr Iron is Mr Sacks, as it is mute, communicates by writing,[62] and responds to knife-and-candle.[63]
  • Finally, the disintegrating figure on the twelfth day is the Nomen of Mr Cups, with a sack full of junk.[64]

References

  1. ↑ Day 1: A Peevish Visit from Mr Sacks?, Fallen London
  2. ↑ Day 1: A Peevish Visit from Mr Sacks?, Fallen London "A knock on your door. A hunched figure. Every year, this Crimson Beast of Winter brings his terrible sack, demanding gifts to fill the void. [...]"
  3. ↑ A Dream of Christmas, Sunless Sea
  4. ↑ A Visit from Mr Sacks, Sunless Sea "[...] Its fur-trimmed robe is the red of blood on snow. Over your chair hangs a familiar brown sack, bulging with offerings. Londoners give generously to the Crimson Beast of Winter. Anything to be rid of it. The figure stares into the fireplace, smelling of soft musk and harsh ammonia. [...]"
  5. ↑ 5.0 5.1 A visit from Mr Sacks, Fallen London "A knock on your door. A hunched figure. A gravelly voice. Ho ho ho. Mr Sacks is the only one of the Masters whose voice isn't shrill. It's brought its sack for you to fill. What are you going to put in it?"
  6. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take my best regards!', Fallen London "The traditional response from those who wish to keep their possessions. Mr Sacks may be disappointed, but you'll suffer no harm."
  7. ↑ Mr Sacks! Take my best regards., Sunless Sea "An old Londoners' trick. It can work... once."
  8. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take these wicked words!', Fallen London "Into the sack go the reams of paper in sinister black and surly white. Into the sack go the wicked things they're saying about you. Mr Sacks draws the neck tight. Happy Christmas."
  9. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take this hat full of horrible dreams!', Fallen London "Into the sack goes the hat boiling with sadness. Mr Sacks ties the mouth closed and lurches out into the dark. Happy Christmas."
  10. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take the sound of my footsteps!', Fallen London "The footsteps vanish into the sack like a burglar up a chimney. You'll step more quietly, at least until the Neath-snows melt."
  11. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take these festering wounds!', Fallen London "Mr Sacks eagerly collects the souls in their little bottles, and with them your wounds. Its sack clinks as it heaves it onto its shoulder. 'The Boatman will forget about you,' it growls. 'For the moment.' Happy Christmas."
  12. ↑ The First Delivery, Sunless Sea “A fool sought a name that devours. It devoured him. A lifetime's wealth, wasted on cravings that can never be satiated. When all was eaten, he stripped the meat from his fingers in search of solace. Still the hunger gnawed and screamed in his belly. He thought this pitiful offering of poison might free him. Debts are not so easily paid.”
  13. ↑ The Third Delivery, Sunless Sea "Mr Sacks is staring at a small wooden box as you enter the hold. Inside, wrapped in a few pitiful scraps of velvet, is a lock of blonde hair and a set of teeth. Carefully polished. Barely used. “The winter was harsh. The fire went cold. Later, the mother wished to forget. A convenient tragedy.”"
  14. ↑ The Second Delivery, Sunless Sea "Mr Sacks produces a jewelled bird. “The thief thought it would bring her riches. Perhaps it would. But when the Gracious Widow and the Cheery Man both covet what you stole, mere money ceases to be of concern. To offend one or make an enemy of the other? She sought a third way. [...] We want no part in this feud. Settle it.”"
  15. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take me!', Fallen London "Mr Sacks stuffs you face-first into its sack and ties it closed behind you. You are, as someone once said, in the dark. There is the possibility of a grue."
  16. ↑ Open a tiny, angular package, Fallen London "[...] The moment you pull the wrappings away, you regret it. Brilliant light shreds the darkness. Suns roar. The night screams in horror. Vast things clot and scuttle at the corners of your vision, things like spiders spawned in searing light... you claw at your eyes! And you wake on the floor of your lodgings, still screaming. For weeks your vision will be filled with ghostly lights and flitting scraps of fiery script."
  17. ↑ Open a package that might be a rolled-up carpet, Fallen London "[...] You stagger back into the darkness to escape her wrath and trip over something that twangs like a harp. You fall with a bump on the floor of your lodgings. The sack, and your stentorian Nemesis, are gone."
  18. ↑ Open a pyramidal package, Fallen London "It's heavy. Its surface is rough, like old brick. It's a memory of a terrible passion. An agony of unrequited love. Whoever felt this spoke a language you don't know; the feelings aren't tempered by names or rational argument."
  19. ↑ Open a squirming package, Fallen London "The package writhes in your hands. Rats? Bats? A cat? Actually, it's a nest of snakes, each one a memory of a nightmare. They hiss as they coil around and around each other. One circles your wrist, and the others follow, swarming all over you, hissing the nightmares into your ears and mouth. Fangs strike. Venoms flow into your bloodstream."
  20. ↑ Open a package that might be a rolled-up carpet, Fallen London "[...] The wrappings come loose with a flap like a tent in a high wind, and suddenly there's an indignant female voice in your ear: a woman of considerable age, experience and breadth of vocabulary. [...] You stagger back into the darkness to escape her wrath and trip over something that twangs like a harp. You fall with a bump on the floor of your lodgings. The sack, and your stentorian Nemesis, are gone."
  21. ↑ Mr Sacks stalks the streets of Fallen London, Fallen London "It's begun to make its rounds… and if you catch it before it arrives, it will allow you to take a gift from its sack. On the condition it is for someone else."
  22. ↑ Lurk. See who's dipping into the sack..., Fallen London "'Spies' eyes go in the sack!' its urchins crow as it lumbers after you. All night it pursues you through the ravelled alleys. Every time you think you've got away, you hear that sound behind you; that terrible sound. 'Ho ho ho.'"
  23. ↑ Lurk. See who's dipping into the sack..., Fallen London "You tiptoe up behind Mr Sacks, tap it on one shoulder and snatch the sack from the other while it's distracted. You run. In the safety of a dank alleyway, you open the sack. It is empty. 'B'lieve it or not,' says the urchin that's just rounded the corner, 'you's one o' the lucky ones. There's some as find their worst nightmares in that there sack. Then again, there's others as finds their 'eart's desire. 'Ere, look. Yer missed this.' He hands you box of tiny bottles. Did it even come from the sack? Don't ask. The boy takes the bag and goes, whistling, to find his master."
  24. ↑ Lurk. See who's dipping into the sack..., Fallen London "You sneak up behind Mr Sacks and make a grab for the bag. But your fingers barely touch it before the red-robed figure rounds on you, quick as a cat. 'Well, well, well,' it rumbles. 'You seem very keen on our sack. Very well.' It pulls out a little pinch of mingled horrors and flings them at you."
  25. ↑ Chat with the urchins who attend Mr Sacks, Fallen London "It's said they made a pact with him: each winter they put the last year of their lives into his sack, and so never grow up. Can it be true?"
  26. ↑ Chat with the urchins who attend Mr Sacks, Fallen London "They confirm the story, and a dozen more besides" "Did you know the Cantigaster is the first Sorrow-Spider? [...] That the Gracious Widow had an affair with the Empress' Consort? [...] Hang on. Is that urchin sniggering?"
  27. ↑ Chat with the urchins who attend Mr Sacks, Fallen London "The urchins evade the question, but they do it by distracting you with a half-dozen other delicious tidbits. Some of the secrets they share are old. 'Older than the fifth city' old."
  28. ↑ Brave the sack; pull out a present for a friend, Fallen London "[...] The urchin races off to deliver your present as Mr Sacks, its breath rancid with suet, whispers something in your ear. [...]"
  29. ↑ Chat with the urchins who attend Mr Sacks, Fallen London "O the things these urchins know. The black things and the shining things. The stories of distant sun and terrible moon. The hints and snippets of Fluke-lore and Master-gossip and how the Bazaar came by its scars..."
  30. ↑ "Mr Sacks catches the flying urchin with one gloved... fist? talon? tentacle? 'Well, boy,' he booms. 'Do you want to go in the sack? Or do you want to come with me? All the wine you can drink. All the snow you can eat. All the presents in my sack, for as long as you remain a child.'"
  31. ↑ "They shake on it, and the Urchin skips out to join the rest, sparing you a single poisonous glance. Mr Sacks shakes his great head. 'I learnt a long time ago,' he growls, 'never to cross an urchin.' He flips a single silver coin to you on his way out."
  32. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Would you care for a little of the '68?', Fallen London "If you have a bottle of the wine that Mr Sacks favours, you can give him that."
  33. ↑ 'Mr Sacks! Take these precious antiquities!', Fallen London "Mr Sacks places your little collection into its sack. It handles them with great care. 'Yes, this will keep the Eater-of-Chains from the door,' it mutters as it leaves. Its tone is satisfied. Perhaps it grins under its hood. Who knows? Happy Christmas."
  34. ↑ Mr Sacks! Take... me., Sunless Sea "The Beast's hunger knows no end. It opens the sack wide and you let it take you. Far away, desperate voices try in vain to wake their sleeping Captain. Soon, they fade, leaving only the silence of the sack."
  35. ↑ Mr Sacks, Fallen London "You inch forward, until you reach the end of the tunnel. Beyond, a crowd of faces, smiling to greet you. But the faces bob and roil in a vast sea of lacre. They shift, disintegrate, commingle; some are human, some are entirely not; but the smiles remain. Just below you, there is a ripple. A man rises from the lacre, fully formed from the snow: improbably tall and impossibly handsome, like Michaelangelo's David come to life. And as it reaches you, it plunges a hand into its chest and removes a small burlap sack; it drops it into your hand, and melts entirely into a perfectly formed puddle at your feet."
  36. ↑ The Mysteries Revealed, Again, Failbetter Games "Who was the first noman?" "Mr Sacks (or, ho ho, Shacksh)"
  37. ↑ Service at Avid Horizon, Sunless Sea "As soon as you dock, Mr Sacks lumbers ashore. It has been preparing for this. Plunging a hand into its cloak, it removes a handful of ammonia-scented snow. It places it on the ground and adds another on the top. Into this one it presses the teeth and the hair from the small box. Potential. Substance. Only one thing needs to be added, as in the tales of the Nomen. The Crimson Beast of Winter waits impatiently for you to provide it."
  38. ↑ Give your blood, Sunless Sea "Mr Sacks stares down at the creature, which shivers and hugs itself. "Inadequate," Sacks says. "Again." Striding to the sealed gate, it rests a gloved hand against it, basking in the chill."
  39. ↑ Hear him out, Sunless Sea “My gracious employer has grave concerns about your guest down in the hold, Captain, and the course to which you are now committed. Blood will spill before this voyage is over, but it needn't be yours.” Jervaise produces a small vial. Crystal. The blood is red; redder than normal blood, almost glowing with vitality. “Here is a more bitter vintage. When the time comes, I urge you to choose wisely. A favour from on high is rarely a poor investment.”
  40. ↑ Day 4: What's the angle?, Fallen London
  41. ↑ Mr...Sacks?, Fallen London "Your voice sounds different..."
  42. ↑ Mr Sacks! Take this pail of... snow?, Fallen London ""The lacre is of the quality I might have expected. Yes, indeed. Not generous, but sufficient." It snares it with a sweep of its cloak, and departs. What's this it's left behind? Since when does Mr Sacks leave gifts?"
  43. ↑ Day 2: A Genial Visit from Mr Sacks?, Fallen London "Again? Mr Sacks, like Christmas, used to come but once a year. It's true, then. Something has changed at the heart of the Bazaar."
  44. ↑ 44.0 44.1 Mr Sacks! Are there... many of you?, Fallen London "Traditions sometimes change. Sometimes, they change back. You must take us as we come: us, and our Originals. Now. Where's my gift?"
  45. ↑ There! This is the one you were waiting for..., Fallen London "We were a week finding the words in the lacre... Listen. These shapes – they rise from the lacre when the Bazaar commands. Some years they serve the Bazaar, some years the Masters... [...]"
  46. ↑ Love is sacrifice, Fallen London "Self-love? Not exactly, I suppose. I wonder if the Masters love their lacre-selves. The relationship is, I understand, a little like parenthood, but not very. I must commend you: although I am not overly fond of lacre."
  47. ↑ Mr Sacks! Would you care for a little of the '68?, Fallen London "It snatches the bottle with ill grace, and deposits a gleaming golden jar on the table. "You'll find this much more to your liking, I think. Why settle for wine when you can have honey?""
  48. ↑ Mr Sacks! Would you care for something... spicier than wine?, Fallen London "Its voice is familiar. You have a hunch it might approve of this gift." "I see someone in this city still understands the value of true dreams. Happy Christmas to you."
  49. ↑ Day 2: A Genial Visit from Mr Sacks?, Fallen London "A knock on your door. A hunched figure. A rich alto voice: "What do you have for me tonight?""
  50. ↑ Mr Sacks! Take this eery air!, Fallen London "It hums and sways as you play. As you conclude, it sighs nostalgically. "I shall sleep well tonight. As, I have faith, shall the pigs below. Trust in wine and slumber, my little friend! Trust, and be well. And now I depart.""
  51. ↑ Mr Sacks! Take my best regards!, Fallen London "Of course, of course! I accept them in the spirit in which you conveyed them. Be well. All shall be well, you know. And all manner of thing. That was the promise. How I do prattle on. Sleep well! As will those below."
  52. ↑ Day 3: Mr Sacks, in taciturn mood, Fallen London "And again! A knock on the door; a looming shape in white-trimmed red. But this time, Mr Sacks speaks only one word. "Diamonds.""
  53. ↑ Day 5: Mr Sacks, purringly, Fallen London Tonight's Mr Sacks anounces itself with a merry triple knock; bows; addresses you as 'my dear'. "Give of your dreams," it says. "You've met the ones who desire to rule dreams. I wish only to reflect them."
  54. ↑ Mr Sacks! Take this dream of mirrors!, Fallen London "You little flatterer! Are you flirting with me? You do it rather well. Here. A little Christmas gilt-sparkle for you."
  55. ↑ "Yes, yes. I might be called Cups. Among other things. And I smell Spices here, and Wines, and a certain familiar flintiness. But it's not sporting of you, my dear, to take when you might give. Not sporting at all. And now I shall take myself away. Good night."
  56. ↑ Day 6: A concrudescent Mr Sacks, Fallen London "Good evening, citizen! My sack awaits your gifts most perelactally. Today, I am considering literature of many kinds."
  57. ↑ Day 7: Mr Sacks, in embered red, Fallen London "Twin red stars glow in the depths of its cowl. There are impossible echoes in the piping voice. But it seems tired. It wants to talk. It wants only one thing from you, an answer: how do you like London in the time of the Bazaar?"
  58. ↑ Day 8: Mr Shacksh, Fallen London "[...] Mr Sacks – Silas – is good company, in a braggy sort of way, and before you know it you've opened a second bottle of wine. He seems philosophical about the failure of his ploy. "Hard timesh," he explains owlishly. "This damnable lacre is doing nothing for ticket sales at Mahogany Hall. My tailor and vintner have grown impatient. And I thought I'd take advantage of these damnable shnowmen..." [...]"
  59. ↑ Day 9: At your window, Fallen London "That night as you sleep, Mr Sacks crouches on your window-sill. Its robe is the colour of salt, and its hood is trimmed with red fox-fur. I have brought you gifts, it whispers."
  60. ↑ Accept the Name!, Fallen London "The light on the edge of sleep was mine. I was Mr Candles. I will not be again."
  61. ↑ Day 10: Down the chimney!, Fallen London "[...] this one served a power that consumes. The worst that walks the roof-tops... but these matters aren't for grown-up ears. Don't worry. The Masters won't mourn it. No one will come for you. We'll sift its lacrous flesh for secrets. We'll find a weakness. The choir will go free."
  62. ↑ Day 11: Mr Sacks, mutely, Fallen London "Mr Sacks looms like a clock-tower. Mr Sacks holds up a card, which reads: HO HO HO. Mr Sacks holds up a second card, which reads: COME WITH ME."
  63. ↑ Refuse to go, but offer it a knife, and a candle, Fallen London "It turns away from you for a moment; turns back, nods again as if to say, that's satisfactory, and hands you an oddly assorted sheaf of documents. On the top leaf it has printed the words WHAT WE MAY, WE DO."
  64. ↑ There! This is the one you were waiting for..., Fallen London "What's all this? Has Mr Sacks been visiting junk-shops? You sort through the contents as the white-and-crimson thing flops on the ground beside you."
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