House of Pleasure

There was a younger brother. An artist: sensitive, soft. Taken at nine by a fever. Havelock loved him truly.

Admiral Havelock has seen more corpses than all the rest put together.

He has killed whales and men for profit - and pleasure.

Look at him. Admiral Havelock grows restless on land.

He has the bloodlust. He tried to seize control of the military after the Empress... after she? The Empress was murdered.

When Daud commands them, they obey.

Such power. If only it could be harnessed for something other than death.

Daud's men. Secrets so well kept - even I cannot discern the truth.

They are sick with treachery. From within - and from without.

He has taken a life - but I can't be sure of anything else.

Some mystery fuels their steps.

They are assassins, that much I know.

They are like puppets. They do not act of their own will.

He is loyal to Daud, yes, but there is something else. Something - no, I cannot see.

One of Daud's assassins. They are everywhere, and nowhere.

There is something about this one. A memory? From before?

Death. I feel only death from this one.

It is as if there is a cloak around him, and I cannot see through it.

I do feel something, but it's distant, like a memory.

It is the same with all of Daud's men. They exist in the place of fog.

A haze surrounds them - I cannot see through it.

She dreams of freedom, and the decks of whaling ships fast after the beasts of sea! But alas, she is a woman.

Such sadness.

She and her uncle - the last of the Curnow family.

She is Callista Curnow. She has learned to defend herself in this treacherous city.

Each time he kills he sees her face. He can never undo what he did.

Unless he dies tonight, he will kill twice more before ending his own life.

He seems fine now. But soon the symptoms will start to show.

This one has kept a lock of hair from everyone he's ever killed.

The need for drink outweighs all else for this one.

He misses the days he spent at sea.

He taught himself how to read.

He has a woman friend, as brutish and ugly as he. But they are kind to each other.

The floods took is home and family.

There are few men who can drink as heartily as this one.

This one thinks only of whores.

He was raised in the orphanage. There was only bread and river crab.

His father beat him. Now it is his turn to beat his son.

His mother fed him whiskey to stop his tears.

When not at his post, he searches for his sister, missing a week now.

He was born in the Month of Earth, and never knew his father.

He eats rat to keep up his strength.

The officers of the Watch made him cut his hair.

He stinks of river mud and beer.

Always he has such hunger in his belly.

He has already spilled much blood today.

Miserable work. But still preferable to prison.

If there were work on the ships, there would be fewer men volunteering for the City Watch.

Beneath that uniform is a brute.

Few live after crossing the City Watch.

What a disgusting brute!

Few dare a confrontation with the Watch.

Best to avoid the City Watch, when possible.

Careful, he is armed.

He follows orders.

He's not fast, but his sword has taken many lives.

Only fools and weepers openly confront the Watch.

He is a clumsy fool, but still, take care.

Beware that sword!

What he lacks under the helmet, he makes up for with that sword.

He has no more brains than a bluejawed hagfish.

So vulgar!

Strong of body, but not of the mind.

See how thick he is about the neck and shoulders.

He wears the uniform of the City Watch.

It wasn't her fault. There was struggle for the pistol.

Few enter this line of work by choice.

A courtesan knows many secrets, and how to keep them.

They know how to dress to capture the attention of men.

She has kept a ragdoll from her childhood and hides it under her bed.

When she was ten her mother traded her for a bottle of wine.

She is a plague carrier. Infectious, but not ill. And she knows it.

On the first day of the Month of Rain, she means to throw herself from the roof.

The streetwalkers. Only the rats spread the plague faster.

He has one of the keenest minds for business in all of Gristol.

Custis is considered the smartest and the cruelest of the Pendleton brothers.

His attachment to his twin brother Morgan is not wholesome.

He was raised to believe the world is but a toy for him to play with.

His blood founded this city but now Custis Pendleton lives only to plunder it.

She has given herself fully to the Outsider.

In her mind's eye she is fancy trimmed in velvet, fresh and young, on her way to an evening of romance.

Careful. She treads with purpose. And is not as frail as she seems.

The children sometimes circle Granny Rags, following along and taunting.

Long ago Granny Rags danced at court. Men begged to marry her.

An honest man - no. But his heart is not as black as some.

In troubled times, fortune often favors those such as he.

Griff offers as close to a fair deal as one can find in the Isles.

Yes. He knows who you are. But he will pretend he does not.

He was in prison for five years, then changed his name to Griff. No one suspects.

She was bribed with sweet biscuits and ox milk, calmed with stories of magic and seafaring. All to keep her sane in a time of turmoil.

She clings to her childhood things, but they bring her only brief comfort.

Poor Emily! Her childhood is lost! She has become a pawn in the games of men!

She hides her fears. She seeks someone to trust.

She sees more than she is telling. Young Lady Emily.

Pendleton ships come back from the Pandyssian continent crowded with poor frightened captives.

For one so steeped in courtly manners, his thoughts do linger long on revenge and murder.

The younger Pendleton. Jealous little Treavor. Always in the shadow.

He is prone to skin infections. His eyes are sensitive to the light.

To think, Lord Pendleton is the son of nobility.

The Golden Cat was here long before she came to run it. But the curtains were her idea.

She holds her head high now, but once she worked the streets and wore naught but filth.

She learned long ago not to grow fond of any of the girls.

The plague is the least of her worries.

She throws the dead girls in the river.

He takes cruel pleasure in others' discomfort.

Morgan Pendleton. How greedily he clings to what is left of the family fortune.

Born joined at the hand to his twin during the Month of Darkness. A knife severed their physical bond, but not the bond that runs deeper.

The women of the Golden Cat have become accustomed to Morgan's unusual requests.

He works men to death. He need only put pen to paper. Lord Morgan Pendleton.

He has spied upon Callista as she bathes. More than once.

He is Piero Joplin. Even now he visualizes the next invention - astonishing. I wish you could see it too.

Poor Piero. His elixirs have cured so much for so many. But they cannot cure his brain fevers.

The youngest ever to pass through the Academy of Natural Sciences. Sokolov will never forgive him that!

Each and every night the black-eyed Outsider visits upon Piero's dreams.

Samuel was once eager to hear Havelock's stories of the sea. But perhaps the Admiral is not what he expected.

The boatman has a good heart. And respects you.

Samuel is a simple man, but he knows the River Wrenhaven and all its tributaries, down to the smallest inlet.

He has many scars. Some from the phlegm of the river krusts, some from the nameless monsters of the deeper ocean.

Samuel Beechworth went to sea to forget a hopeless love. He succeeded.

If ever in doubt, which is often, he uses the knife.

Slackjaw. Whores raised him. He'll never know his father was a prince.

He deals in flesh, weapons, strong drink. They've always called him Slackjaw.

He and his thugs started in Treavers Alley. Now his influence is felt over the entire Island of Gristol.

He knows the streets of Dunwall, especially its dark alleys, as well as any man.

Violence. Desperation. Depravity.

His mother's dying words to him were: Give us a whiskey, darling.

He murders for coin.

He is a cutthroat and thug. He answers to a man named Slackjaw.

A predator. He's part of a gang.

He is from the Bottle Street Gang.

One of Slackjaw's men.

A street thug. A knife for hire.

His father was one of the first to die of the plague.

This one cooks rats over a trash fire when he can't find anyone to rob.

He is paid in whiskey and sleeps on the floor of the distillery.

His mother still walks the streets of this district.

He looked after his brother the best he could. But the boy died of thick lung at the age of six.

A mud lark until 12, sifting through the filth until he could use a knife.

He feeds a stray dog every night. He named her Billy.

A brutal thief.

They are called Weepers. They can languish like this for many weeks.

Hear her terrible moans! The disease is both painful and disfiguring.

Have pity for those afflicted. But a warning - pity them from afar.

You cannot help her. The finest elixirs in Dunwall cannot help her now.

This weeper got the disease from attending to her sick children.

She intends to spread the plague to others, if she gets the opportunity.

Soon this weeper will be too ill to eat or drink. She will not suffer much longer.

She does not remember her former life. All she has now is this.

She still has some awareness - and strength. Do not provoke her.

The Overseer told her it was her own misdeeds that brought the plague to her.

She bought the finest elixirs. Perhaps she did not take them in time.

They sheltered her for a time, but when the blood came from her eyes, they sent her out. Called her a weeper.

The sickness attacks the breathing, eyes, and ears. And lays waste to the brain.

He is very ill, but be warned - he still has much strength.

The Weepers. They live in constant misery, until death finally releases them.

There is nothing you can do for him, but keep your distance.

The sick spread more than disease - they spread panic.

Weepers may look helpless, but they are not!

Whoever they were before, now they are victims of the contagion. Weepers.

They suffer from the plague.

Was he a nobleman or commoner? Whatever he was, that life is over now.

He watched his wife and daughter die of it. Now the plague takes him.

There is nothing left of the man he used to be.

He was a harpooner on a great ship. But then he began to fall ill.

He pleaded with her to leave. Begged her not to help him. But now she is sick too.

He was fond of taking in stray animals. But that was before.

Look at him! Yet he believes this malady will pass and he will soon be well.

He hopes his wife is suffering somewhere, just as much as him.

The house help is treated poorly. But there are worse ways to earn a coin.

There is not a day that goes by she does not consider taking her own life.

For all the hard work, there is little reward for her.

Do not pity the servant. There is pride in the job well done.

Work is never done for the lowly servant.

The pain in her back is constant. Nothing helps.

Her servant wages will not be enough to fix her father's debts.

If she lives until tomorrow, her day off, she will be mauled by Weepers and left for dead.

The other servants don't like her.

He always had his sights set on the Abbey's highest office.

Do not be deceived by his talk of Strictures. Martin's crimes weigh heavy on his spirit.

He has been a soldier, a highway robber and a man of faith.

He wonders which is more powerful - the knife or the tongue.

There are few brave enough to laugh in the Outsider's face. But Teague Martin is one.

If they find out what he's done, he'll be executed.

These are the sons of rich and powerful families.

Discipline, pride, and courage. A dangerous combination.

They act quickly, harshly. And without mercy.

Careful. The Officers of the City Watch are well trained.

They've been known to mock their victims before striking.

An Officer of the City Watch.

He will follow his orders to the end.

See how proudly the Officers hold themselves.

They are loyal to the Lord Regent.

Careful. This is no dim-witted Sergeant of the Watch!

Few can best their swordsmanship.

He has a pistol and has used it on children before!

They are the Lord Regent's most trusted men.

They are chosen for their advanced skills.

His entire family was taken by the plague. It is just him now.

He murdered a nobleman, then framed a friend for the deed.

Madness runs in his family. And he is the worst of them all.

When his cousin refused his advances, he sent a Watch patrol to beat her to death.

He has ambitions well past the City Watch.

Not once has he lost a sword fight.

He received a letter from his sister. He can never go home, the plague is there.

No one ever mentioned the missing boys. He feels confident he's gotten away with it.

Twice today he has coughed up blood. He's told no one.

He is worried. It's been four days since he's had word from her.

What he ate last night isn't settling well with his stomach.

He is only two merits away from another medal. He hopes to earn them today.

His visits his father in the asylum, though the man no longer remembers him.

He thinks exercise and discipline will keep the plague away.

Arrogant. Corrupt. And fiercely loyal to the Lord Regent.

The common folk, simple-minded, selfish. But they can be kind.

She can hold her drink as well as any man.

There is nothing common about the work she does every day.

The fabric of the city is made of stuff such as she.

She hides her hands. They are raw and scarred from the washing.

She is a seamstress in a shop frequented by the wealthy.

All she wants is to lay herself down in the middle of Framling Street, and await death.

She starves so that her children can have bread.

She has only one dress, and wears it to tatters.

If only she had a coin for every time she stubbed her toe.

Now the littlest one is sick.

The common woman. She fears the Abbey and the plague.

He first saw her when he was nine. She'd somehow got her foot stuck in the wheel.

He is very rich and powerful.

The job of an aristocrat is to stay an aristocrat.

His family controls a large estate with many servants.

He plots to take the whole inheritance for himself.

He is low born. He has killed more than once to keep it a secret.

Soon the money will run out. And when it does, things will not go well for him.

He enjoys tormenting the help.

He might wear the blue jacket tomorrow. The grey doesn't bring out his eyes.

They never shine up his shoes as much as he likes.

He really did care for her once.

He is wealthy and wears fine clothing, but underneath, all men look the same.

He is tired.

It is in the common man that the Abbey finds its most faithful.

Some men can still find work along the waterfront.

A man is only as common as his dreams.

He spies on his neighbors and reports to the Overseers.

He always eats very well, even as his wife and child grow thin.

He steals from his business partner. A little every day.

He didn't tend to that cut, and now it festers.

All that he had was lost in the flood.

He used to admire the Overseers. Now he fears them.

That work was the best he could do. And still they weren't satisfied.

Only after a long day of work will he return to his home and family.

They top off the wine with river water. But eventually someone swoons, then fresh bottles are fetched from the cellars.

Fortunes have been won here, and lives have been lost.

Such laughter! And they are singing the old songs, linking arms. But that was from a happier time.

Deals are made here, sometimes under the influence of wine. And sometimes the influence is the point of a knife.

Before the sun rises they toss any casualties into the river. Men or hound - they all go in.

Somewhere in the basements below, hound kills hound, and money changes hands.

The old man claimed a dark corner and drank himself into oblivion. The hounds were the first to find him.

They stood in a circle around the candles, and cut their hands to form their alliance. The blood hissed as it touched the flames.

The conspirators have found a safe home here. They take great care that they are not followed.

The ale here is sweetened with honey to hide the taste of river brine.

The sober speak in whispers. The drunk bellow.

Their fate rests on your effort. On the strength of your hands, and of your heart.

The brothels sprang up around the distilleries. They are inseparable.

There is a strong drink made here. I tried it once. Distilled from River Krusts by the taste of it.

The Golden Cat entertains important clients tonight. The Madame is worried. She must not disappoint.

They thought they would be working in a factory. By the time they arrive it's much too late.

The plague swept through here. There are rooms they have yet to clean.

The girls do not like this new Madame. She is not kind. Not at all like the old one.

They ship them in from farming villages, bastard daughters and extra mouths that can't be fed.