Lady Boyle's Last Party

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.

The city owes much to this great mind. Let him drink and find company where he can.

Anton Sokolov. He knew me once. And did much to set me on my path.

Yes, Sokolov's a foreigner - with the looks and manner of a Tyvian Swineherd. But he is also a great genius.

What the aristocracy will pay for a portrait painted by Anton Sokolov! If only they knew how much he detests them!

Not all his knowledge was gleaned from Academy books, some is gained from the maid-servants he beds.

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.

When her family held a dinner for Sokolov, Esma sat with him. They spoke of many mysteries, and the messages that can be read in the stars.

In her thoughts now - the tawdry events of last night, and a rival she schemes against.

When there are teeth marks on her skin, she is careful to dress away from servant's prying eyes.

That is Esma Boyle. She drinks to forget herself.

A servant from Morley once stirred her so deeply, she had him killed the next day.

There was trouble when her daughter was born. Then the doctors told her there would be no more children.

The youngest of the Boyle women. She suffers from reckless frivolity, followed by long bouts of melancholy.

The society of Dunwall know better than to make an enemy of Waverly Boyle.

A favorite game of hers is to befriend a young socialite, and then see her ruined within a year.

Waverly Boyle. She acts as if too good for her many suitors, but the servant boys know her well enough.

When she's alone, Lydia plays the harpsichord; she is one of the finest musicians in the city.

Of all the Boyle women, Lydia has the most to keep secret.

Neither a talker nor a great beauty, she has cultivated other qualities to survive nobility.

Her servants never last long. And no one dares question her about their whereabouts.

She worries about rumors. She keeps a close eye on the servants.

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.

Wherever the Overseers go, common folk tremble, and brother accuses brother.

They are experts at extracting confessions, even from the innocent.

They never rest - their grim task is fueled by devotion to the Abbey of the Everyman.

His Wolfhound was injured when they came upon a den of rats. The beast may not recover.

Should Overseers Come to Call, Know your Strictures, One and All.

Some Overseers sleep alongside their hounds in the kennels. Some let the beasts into their bunks.

Overseers. How grimly they set about their tasks, rooting out the influence of the Outsider, whom they hate more than they love men and women.

They are from the Abbey of Everyman. They hunt for heretics.

Woe to those found guilty of using witchcraft.

Few of the Overseers are happy about being joined with the men of the Lord Regent's City Watch.

They blame the plague on the misdeeds of the people. They hunt for any signs of wrongdoing!

The Overseers employ many mysteries to find those they call Heretics.

Even now he whispers the prayer against witchcraft. Can you hear it?

He punishes himself cruelly if he does not extract at least one confession every month.

He has no care if the ones he kills are heretics or innocents.

They made him watch when they tortured his parents for their worship of the Outsider.

He wonders when he will be able to return to the Abbey.

He recites the Seven Strictures. But he is thinking about blood ox steak.

He was asked to perform a wedding. So few lately. It lifted his heavy heart.

He doubts his abilities. The curse was not broken. If anything the woman's warts seemed worse than ever.

He fears the influence of the Outsider.

He is confused by recent events. There is no one he can trust.

He feels poorly, and suspects a witch's curse.

The Overseers are devout, but fanatically so.

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.

What kind of leader would use such against their own people?

He believes the machine he walks on makes him invincible.

They use their height to advantage.

Most of the City Watchmen call them Tallboys.

Keep clear of its legs.

It has other surprises in store - not just height.

They walk about the plague, above the rats, above the flooded streets.

Somewhere atop that contraption - there is a man.

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.

She had to dismiss the maid-servant who saw the Mark of the Outsider, branded on her back.

She does not wield a sword or pistol. Gossip is her weapon.

Aristocrats believe they deserve their wealth and finery.

Her life would be considered decadent by most.

She beats her servants.

Only she knows what really happened the day her invalid mother died.

She loves counting the money in front of the help.

Her dearest friend died in childbirth in the Month of High Cold.

She has no idea what she should wear to the dinner tomorrow.

Her new shoes are of a nice fashion, but they strangle her toes.

She has no intention of returning the necklace she borrowed from Lady Oswald.

The rich still cling to the belief that the plague will only sicken the poor.

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.

Don't be fooled if you hear laughter, or happen upon a smile. There is no lightness or merriment here.

This was once the house of a High Overseer. Lydia Boyle took special care to desecrate each and every room.

Old friends are cut from the guest list at the merest rumor of plague.

Tonight the nobles try to conceal their indiscretions behind masks and costumes.

The other families dare not make a move without first approval from the three Ladies Boyle.