Community Request: Building Pedia Entries

[Skitters]

I thought I'd have a stab at the Courtoom myself

Curse those cards! He’d been so close to winning his passage on the earlier ship, when he was dealt the Curse of Arawn – particularly sickening as it had followed a Seven of Towers which surely would have won him the pot. His luck had been horrendous since then, he’d lost most of his winnings on that game, and then spent a lot more drowning his sorrows. He’d then been woken with a pail of water, finding himself press-ganged into service on a Galley heading for the unknown lands. After five torturous days of seasickness, Lanun pirates struck, the galley was sunk and here he was now - after being washed ashore - in a Svartalfar courtroom charged with spying.

What did he know about these Elves? Civil war was it? Something about Seelie and Unseelie Court. Growing up on a farmstead had left him a little vague on World politics. His eyes looked around this strange court - pretty grandiose décor, with a sense of opulence, certainly not the functional style of his Hippus homeland. His eyes fell on a statuette. There was something not quite right about it…ah…yes…the scales, tipped with coins. So…Mammon has a part to play in this courtroom does he? There were still some coins in his hidden pouch. Once he signalled to the bailiff, things began to gather momentum, indeed Mammon had obviously provided a slick fast tracking system as he found himself ushered away from the courtroom – at the cost of a few coins - to a private room.
“It seems you have been a little down on your luck, and would like to…aha…speed the courtroom process up, so to speak?”
“Yes, your honour”
“…and you can pay the fine of five coins?”
“Yes”
“Okay…that seems in order. No need for paper work, I think we can come to a satisfactory conclusion here and now: Guilty as charged, you hang tomorrow. In Esus we Trust”
“…but…but the statuette to Mammon?!”
“Yes, a pretty little thing isn’t it?….and worth it’s weight in gold I must say”

- When entering a courtroom, effort should be made to check the patron Angel before constructing your defence.

 

[Skitters]

and the Aqueduct - thought I'd tie this in with Xienwolf's Great Person list

Khmer Otterfig sat back and admired his handy work…well the handy work of slaves…but it was his guidance and prudent use of the whip that would now bring a new lease of life to *insert Clan city name here*. The brutal lines of his Grand Aqueduct – hewn from stone carved from the very mountain that fed it - snaked down, providing fresh, precious, water to the city and brought with it nourishment to the warrens that could not have been imagined from festering wells that oozed with years of detriment. The filth that some of his brethren would live in!

Yes, there were others of his kin famed for their leadership in battle, but Otterfig knew that they were as nothing without an army and it was he who gave the Clans the means to build one. Still, it did bother him that a simple oink like Palpeious - self proclaimed "Warlord" - gets a statue for butchering a few humans, and the only thanks he gets for bringing fresh water the masses was "It's cold". It isn't easy... Being Green.

 

[Skitters]

and the Inn - Kandros Fir justifies missed lectures during his University days (apparently he still has his 'Campaign For Real Mead' badge...)

The hustle and bustle of a City Inn sets it apart from it’s countryside relative where benches have often warped to fit the posterior of it’s regular host. It serves much the same function – acting as a place to unwind and as a community centre – but the fiddle doesn’t always stop when a new face appears.

The City Inn serves other, less expected functions though: it is a centre for business – legitimate or not, it is a place where new contacts are made, a centre for the spread of information and new, or imported, ideas. True, some of those ideas are quickly passed over with a clearer head the next morning, some of the information is ‘beer talk’, and some of the contacts are best left forgotten, but there are few other places where an Amurite could meet a Balseraph where they are not (necessarily) swinging a sword at each other.

Contacts are set-up, palms are greased, and the business of running a City – and even an Empire – is made.

Extract from a recently recovered University dissertation: “A treatise of the City Inn: the Wheels of Empire”, Kandros Fir

 

[Skitters]

Archery Range

Pheayl looked across the range, his keen eye seeking the target, without taking his eye from his quarry he reached for his quiver and withdrew an arrow – avoiding the carefully aligned fletchlings that would help guide it. Notching the arrow to his trusty yew bow, he eased it back, increasing the tension on the bowstring. Using the mantra taught to him by his hunter father, Pheayl closed down unnecessary senses concentrating on his target. His tongue tip flicked out, a habit of his that some had dubbed as him tasting the wind direction. Finally he relaxed his grip, and watched satisfied as the arrow met it’s target.

“Nice aim Pheayl”, Kirim assured him, but addressing the whole company “...but on the field of battle you will not be afforded the luxuries of time. At this camp you will unlearn the techniques you have developed for hunting quarry. Here you will learn that you are one amongst many, that range, speed and firing on mass are more important than individuals seeking specific targets. Killing one Goblin twenty yards out will not halt a charge, maiming five fifty yards out just might.”

 

[Skitters]

One for the Tailor

“Jaris! Jaris! What fantastic news!”
“What do you talk of Rodril?”
“Farlgrii the Hunter, he has captured the Great Spider that had made a home of the Blue Crag mine”
“That is good...we lost a good customer just last week. I need to find someone else now who will want this bespoke centaur suit – he only made a five coin downpayment”
“Oh Jaris – you are always clouded by the finance – ooh nice stitching by the way – you havn’t thought of the biggest implication have you?”
“Rodril, it is my keen eye on the books that means we have a business! What implication do you talk of?”
“Think man! Since we stopped trading with the Lanun, we have had little or no silk! This Spider could will give us some to work again!”
“You know….you may just be onto something there Rodril!...I must hurry to the Governors Office!”
“What for Jaris?”
“Well I will petition the Governor to ensure that this great resource is not squandered by the army! Pass me that suit. Will you be okay running the shop while I’m out?”
“I will be fine Jaris!....but why take the suit?”
“Rodril is the Governor a man?”
“No…he is a centaur…aha...”
“Indeed Rodril, a nice little bargaining chip for our esteemed Governor”

 

[Kael]

I thought I'd have a stab at the Courtoom myself

and the Aqueduct - thought I'd tie this in with Xienwolf's Great Person list

and the Inn - Kandros Fir justifies missed lectures during his University days (apparently he still has his 'Campaign For Real Mead' badge...)

Archery Range

All added, great job! I think think the Tailor was as good but I especially like the Courtroom and Inn for giving a real flavor to the world. And the joke in the Aqueduct entry is to good to pass up.

 

[Squiggs]

Temple of Kilmorph

"Like a mountain thrust from the ground in some cataclysmic event, a Temple of Kilmorph is a grand sight indeed. This is, of course, to be expected since dwarves are the primary crafters of the temples of their mother goddess. Those who denigrate dwarven architecture have yet to be imposed upon by a Temple of Kilmorph. Carved entirely from stone, a typical temple has two carved rock doors on each side of the building. Often, huge statues guard the entrances - these are said to physically bar entrance to those of malevolent intent.

Once inside, a long torchlit hallway extends toward another set of doors to the worship chamber. The walls in this hallway are covered with engravings of the deeds of Kilmorph and the floor is tiled in intricate patterns. Walking through the second carven threshold reveals the central room of the temple. Though the chamber is initially dim, ingenious mechanisms on every wall allow the room to be brilliantly lit. In the flaring lantern light, the walls seem to move as they sparkle; gems are inlaid at key points in the detailed carvings adorning the walls. Tall pillars guide worshippers from each hallway towards the altar at the center of the room.

Despite the grand surroundings, the altar itself is simple. Kilmorph loves the beauty of the earth - the stone, the gems, the majesty of mountains and plains - but she does not desire rituals or priceless sacrifices. Worshippers may place small offerings on the altar or on the few steps leading up to it. (Kilmorph favors gifts of crafts or things that grow, but she will accept almost anything given with a sincere heart.) Periodically, the priest of Kilmorph (who stands to one side as worshippers move in and out of the temple) will utter a prayer to Kilmorph. Sometimes worshippers will give the priest food or various precious items as well - the entirety of a priest's livelihood comes from such gifts. It is, perhaps, surprising that such a system would work, but I have yet to see it fail. And though I have seen many grand buildings in my travels, I always look forward to entering a Temple of Kilmorph."

- Lathiel Swiftwing, elven historian

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Not sure if this came out the way I intended it - I'm up for editing if this is near what is being looked for.

I just figured it'd be nice to contribute in some way to a mod I thoroughly enjoy.

 

[Skitters]

All added, great job! I think think the Tailor was as good but I especially like the Courtroom and Inn for giving a real flavor to the world. And the joke in the Aqueduct entry is to good to pass up.

blimey, I'd have been chuffed if just one of them would have made it in!

Looking through the list, I was struck that it had never really occured to me before that you can build an Inn and a Tavern. Whilst I appreciate a Tavern wouldn't usually offer the hostelry and stables that an Inn provides...they still strike me as pretty similar buildings to both be included.

but I made an entry for the tavern anyhow...it's possibly a little too Warhammerish

Another night at the Severed Head Tavern, Gluk waited impatiently at the bar, “Ere, Murkel, me luv…’ow long yu gonna be? I ‘is dying of thirst ‘ere!”

“Donchya’ be “me luv”’in me! Yuse ‘as to wait jus’ like everyun else”, replied Murkel, as she poured ale into awaiting tankards. Almost as much of the amber ale splashed onto the bar as it did into the flagons randomly held out at her.

“Ah grak…what’s Erebus coming to?! I’s been workin’ me knackocks off all day…I needs me beer”

“As yuse got a problem wiv’ da young lady?” A large looming Orc inquired of Gluk, Murkel deftly intervened, before things got nasty, “What you wantin’ Gluk?”, the looming Orc, seemed assuaged by this and backed off to sup his own beverage.

“I’ll ‘av da usual, please….and I’ll ‘av a Bhall’s Tear Chaser”, Gluk eyed the back of the larger Orcs head. Murkel winced, things were likely to get messy, “ere’yar…tha’ll be three pfennings”. Gluk muttered about the cost of things things these days under his breath, whilst Murkel swooped off to serve the next customer.

Gluk temporarily took his eye of his rival, and suveryed the tavern. Most of the main room was swollen with his kin, some holding tightly to their drinks, others recklessly allowing ale to splash onto the sawdust laden floor, most were chattering away in huddles, in one larger group the usual anthem went out “Beer, Beer, we wants more beer, all da’ Orcs is singin’, Get da drakkin beer’in!...”.

In one clearing a couple of Orcs played a game of axes. THUD, THUD, THUD….pause….THUD. THUD, THUD…pause…the noise of the throwing axes hitting their target took up a familiar rhythm, that seemingly set a steady pace at which the patrons drank.

Gluk returned his gaze at his rival. As if sensing this, his rival turned round, “Has yuse gorra’ problum?”

For an instant Gluk nearly flinched, but his Inner Orc, wouldn’t allow him to appear submissive so soon after Murkel had tried to ease the tension before, “Maybe I ‘as.”

His rival met Gluk’s stare, around them things went quiet, “So yuse wants to make sommat ofit?”

Gluk, necked his chaser, and cracked his knuckles “Yeah…I guess I does”

The rival nodded…”Five Pfenning each hand?”

Gluk smiled, “Make it ten, and Swords count double”…Gluk….looked back over at the bar, “Murkel!” he called “we’s be needin’ de Somnium deck, and gerrus a jug of ale whiles yerratit”

 

[Skitters]

The Tax Office

A quiet man, sitting in a quiet chamber, in quiet little building, on a quiet little backstreet. His steady hand scribes a magic of it’s own, but there is no mana involved here - just years of training, an abacus, and patience. He looks at the information in front of him, carefully places the quill in hand down, picks up another, dips it into an ink pot and scribes on the parchment. The ink is blotted, the parchment rolled up, and the scroll is added to a neat little pile. He picks up another sheet of parchment, returns to his desk, and resets his abacus.

A busy man, standing at a busy stall, in a busy market, on a bustling main street. His patter is constant - after years of running his stall he knows how to draw customers to him. He works hard at what he does, and makes a good living from being an astute judge of what he can get his customers to spend. Two men approach - the stallholder knows instantly that there will be no sale here. A scroll is presented, a red number is displayed, a fine is paid.

 

[thomas.berubeg]

Ride of Nine Kings:

Where now the horse and the rider? where is the horn that was blowing?
where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
they have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow:
the days have gone down in the west behind the hills into shadow
who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
-Elohim Bard, J.R.R. Tolkien

 

[Skitters]

A second stab at the Tailor...funny how these things develop! It was just a little blurb that has developed into the Kuriotate Tailor being an equivalent of a multinational oil company pressuring the government into a war for resources....allegedly

Whilst not unique to the Kuriotate civilisation, it is a curiosity of that nation that the Tailor has become an integral part of its society. It has become the norm to not only accept difference, but to readily seek it. As the population conglomerates into a few sprawling cities, there is a thirst for individuality – and the tailor is ever ready to help people express that.

Paradoxically, there are ‘fashions’ amongst the Kuriotates which decree some level of conformity, so it may be that in one high summer most people will wear blue jackets, but the individual will still express themselves by the cut and subtle shade of their garb. These fashions, though, mean that a wealthy Kuriotate will often have a wardrobe that a Balseraph Theatre troupe would be proud of.

Unlike most other nations where functionality is the prime goal of clothing, to the Kuriotates it is often secondary to how the item appears. Indeed, it is said that many a foot soldier has needed disciplining after customising their armour, and no right minded Kuriotate would expect to buy a coat that they would still be wearing the next season.

The fashions also mean that the Kuriotates are ever looking for new materials and dyes that can be used for ever more intricate clothing. It is suggested that a recent border war with the Calabim was not so much related to the freedom and protection of peons as stated, but because of the demand for silk amongst the Kuriotates themselves.

Many a tailor will win and lose a fortune as the fashion changes ebb and flow, but the most talented, gain the respect and admiration of the people akin to the mightiest Doviello Warlord, or finest Balseraph playwright. With that it is said that the humblest of tailors could work themselves up and find themselves at the ear of Cardith Lorda himself

 

[Jabie]

I'm at work and have no idea whether or not there is a pedia entry for the Gallows. I loosely seem to recall it is a building for the Bannor. Here's my suggestion:

****

They say that a man only reveals his true soul in his last breath. All the hopes and fear, dreams and nightmares encapsulated in a single puff of air. In chill of a winter's night, a white cloud. In the heat of a summer's dawn, an almost imperceivable shimmer amongst the long grass. A shallow scream, a hollow sigh, a contented chuckle, all but a step from Heaven or Hades.

But what of the soul that loses it way, the spirit neither here nor there, snared in the twylight seconds between the tick and the tock, doomed to roam the world, seeking justice, seeking liberation, seeking closure and finding none. The Sidar venerate them. The Llojsfar enchant their windows to ward away the such horrors. The courtesans of the Belseraphs listen to their murmurs, seeking the wisdom in the heart of madness.

And what if you could catch those souls? What secrets would the hangman's noose tell? What fell whispers issue forth from the gallows pole?

At the centre of the great square of Trinity between Brook Street and the Old North Road stand a single gallows. Sometimes when the murderers hang, you will see their face twist in terror, and you will know and understand that that the murderer no longer fears death, but the hereafter, cursed forever. And later in the evening, when the rag men have taken down the corpse and the guards have washed down platform and the children play in the streets, the noose twists softly in the wind, looking for all the world like a dreamcatcher.

 

[Monkeyfinger]

There is a Gallows entry, a pretty good one at that. I'd keep it since it actually explians why it's a replacement for the bear totem.

 

[thewyrm]

For the Governor's Manor, how about the quintessential Vampire greeting?

"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own will! Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!"
- Bram Stoker

 

[Corlis]

Here's something for the Barracks (the Bannor Training Yard UB). I intentionally made the wording a little dry because it's legalese, but hopefully it explains why the Bannor have such good guardsmen. Apparently this is how the Romans dealth with sleepy watchmen too...

"If a soldier is lawfully assigned to a watch, but is found to have abandonned or fallen asleep at his post, he is guilty dereliction and shall be tried in the military tribunal. If proven guilty by two or more sworn witnesses, he shall be taken to the public place of execution at noon and each member of the garrison he had endangered shall beat him to death with iron rods. Such will satisfy the law of Junil."
Bannor Military Law

 

[The Bramble]

This entry is for the Obsidian Gate, and based off a similar situation that happened to me in-game. Sadly with current mechanics it doesn't work exactly as described, but whats the point of flavor text if not a little embellishment?

Obsidian Gate

The shouts of Kain's secretary weren't enough to rouse him from his work, but the crash of the guard captain nearly kicking his heavy oak door off its hinges caused him to look up distractedly.

"Lord Gover-" the armored man began to bellowed over the rushed apologies of Kain's secretary.
"Captain Amlais! What a pleasant surprise! Haven't seen you in a few months I believe!" Interrupted Governor Kain, smiling.
"Lord Governor there is a matter that requires your urgent attention!" Shouted the flustered captain.
"Well, you see Captain, I'm afraid I'm on the verge of a breakthrough here and can't be disturbed. No doubt you are aware of my earlier research concerning mind transplants between mice and frogs? Well I believe I'm finally ready to move on to higher order mammals! Quite exciting, really. You see, unlike the mere polymorphation of a physical body into a new shape, I can swap the very consciousness of a-"
"Lord Governor look out your window!!" Screamed the captain.

The Lanun invasion fleet was a sight to behold. Rumors had swirled for months about the Overlords desire of Amurite arcane knowledge. Acting through their puppet, Hannah, they must have organized the fleet's launch in secret weeks ago. They still had weeks yet to reach the Amurite homeland, but had apparently detoured to capture Kain's colony on their way to further conquests.

"We've started evacuations already, sir, but there is no way to get everyone out in time. I've secured a horse for you, but we have to leave immediately!"
"Evacuate? And leave all my work behind? Perish the thought! Many of these experiments are time sensitive! My treastise on metamagical fluxions is yet unpublished! Why, if the Overlords got their tentacles on that, I'd be the laughingstock of the Institute!"
The Captain's eyes seemed ready to fall out of his head. His fury was finally unchained.
"You doddering old wastrel! We can't defend you against a continental invasion fleet! What is one addle-brained wizard and a handful of watchmen going to do against all the fury and horror of the Overlords?!"
"Ha, well, Captain, your frustration really isn't warranted. They didn't put a master of Mind Magic in charge of colony if he hadn't long mastered the apprentice's trick of instantaneous psychic communication. So you see, it's not just one wizard against that fleet, but all of them."

Visible from the governor's window was an odd but large black disc that had been erected at considerable effort and expense at the colony's founding. Most had assumed it some sort of monument and forgotten about it there on the rocky coast. But now a roaring and explosive sound came from it that instantly caught the attention of the terrified colonists.

Gigantic balls of rock and fire burst through the disc, seemingly coming from nowhere. Over a dozen of them roared through and arced high into the air, leaving great gouts of black smoke trailing behind them. At the nadir of their arc they seemed to hover for a moment, touching the clouds. Then, with frightening speed, they hurtled back to the earth... and directly onto the Lanun fleet. In a matter of seconds the entire fleet was shattered and burning, and the roar of the flames swallowed the screams of the dying. Half a world away, the war wizards and archmages of Amuria ceased chanting and returned to their interrupted duties and studies.

Several hours later, the secretary knocked on the door of Kain's office.

"Sir, a crate addressed to you from a colleague in Cevedes was found at the gate. The note simply says 'For the survivors.' Erm, it appears to be croaking, sir..."

 

[The Bramble]

And another one for The Nexus

---

The Overcouncil's decree that the evil and tainted civilizations inhabiting the Ozalic continent be supressed and reformed had been attempted and failed by each of the council members in turn. The initial incursion by Ljosalfar rangers into the forests of Sheol were utterly unprepared of the conjured horrors of the Sheaim summoners and were wiped out utterly. The proud Kuriotate champions made more headway, but were ultimately no match for the Calabim warrior-vampires when challenged to single combat. The mighty Bannor crusade was sunk before it ever even sighted land by strange, tentacled sea-beasts.

It is interesting that the reclusive Amurites were the ones finally able to affect the continent's subjugation, and it is much to the humiliation of the member nations that the invasion was conducted by a single wizard. Sailing in on a small, swift caravel, this wizard landed on the shores of the barbaric and largely unsettled area of Ozalic known popularly as the Dragon's Desert due to its loose affiliation with and rulership by the red dragon Acheron. Goblin witnesses say when this man stepped off the boat onto the beach, the sea came with him. Other Observers present confirm the phenomena was merely a large water elemental summoned by the mage. Regardless, the construct made short work of the remaining defenders of the goblin village who hadn't run off.

By now several Observers had begun to congregate and the following is my synthesis of their testimony and notes. The Amurite stood alone in the village square and begun to chant an unfamiliar spell. After eight minutes a small black disc was seen to hover at the mage's eye level at a distance of four grommits in front of him. After seventy-six minutes this disc had grown into a large circle with a circumference between 8.2 to 9.1 grommits (exact measurements were unable to be collected due to the nature of magical forces at work around the disc threatening to reveal any Observers who came too close) and the mage had ceased his incantation .

According to testimony and notes taken from Observers present in Amuria at the time, similar rituals were taking place in military yards throughout the country. At this point, several companies of swordsmen, firebows, war wizards, and their supplies emerged from the first disc in an orderly fashion and began to set up camp.

Even the Svartalfar, whose lands bordered the Dragon's Desert, were taken completely by surprise by the Amurite mage-army marching to their cities from a wholly unexpected direction.

-- Testimony of Cedric Tham, Sidar Observer, to the Council of Historians.

 

[Skitters]

Not sure if your still looking for these....but a few thoughts inspired by some of the more recent developments

Tavern

The warmth of the Dragons Head Tavern was briefly disturbed as three fur clad men stepped in from the cold Autumn air, the month of Marpenoth would soon give way to Uktar and Winter would begin to envelope Erebus.

The first stepped forward; "Patrons!" he boomed "if you will come outside, for in deadly combat I have captured and put to my will a Giant Spider! Henceforth thou shalt remember the name, Groo the Wanderer!"

The patrons looked unimpressed “Close the door, your letting cold air in!” one called out.

The three looked at each other, concerned at the blasé response. The second man, stepped forward; “I, am Kimble the Quick, I come bearing treasure…” At this, Kimble, grabbed the attention of the Tavern.

“Behold – the Jade Torc…this gives….protection…against….ah I see you have come across them before…” Kimble looked crestfallen as every other patron presented their own Torc and returned to supping their Deruptus premium ale.

At this, the third man looked decidedly unsure of himself - he stepped outside and guided in another. Plucking up courage; “My name is Carrow the Bold. I am returned from the Bagrass Dungeons, whereupon defeating a tribe of Orc Axemen, and overcoming noxious fumes I rescued this Acolyte!”

The barman looked over… “You went to the Bagrass Dungeons?!”

Carrow looked anxious – “errr Yes”

“and to get there you would have crossed the deserts of the Malakim, the hills of the Khazad and the forests of the Ljosafar?” asked the Barman

Confidence returned to Carrow “errr, yes - and back again! I acted as guide to the lands of the Grigori to this poor man!"

The Barman snorted “So you cross the deserts of the Malakim, the hills of the Khazad and the forests of the Ljosafar AND come back through them - and you return with a man deluded by mysticism?! It’s bad enough we have to listen to the ramblings of you lot, and now you’ve inflicted us with this! I don't know about Carrow the Bold, as far as I'm concerned you'll be known as Carrow the Hunted!”

In the taverns of the Grigori, Adventurers have to work hard to earn a free pint of Deruptus Ale…

 

[Jabie]

Thread Necromancy, mainly cos I'm at work and the bulk load is taking ages. No access to the Civilopedia to check out a few odds and ends, but I seem to recall playing the other night the Sculptor's Studio wasn't completed. Here's a take my on it...

Sculptor's Studio

In most Lucichirp cities, the sculptor's studio can be found next to the graveyard. Charged with crafting both golems and gravestones, the masons art perfectly embodies both life and death.

It is a well-known fact that the craft of a sculptor is often one of the most profitable professions within Luichirp society. Many years ago, a young sculptor carved an Iron Golem with the face of Dougal Goblinsplitter, the saviour of Ironstone Pass. Since that day many prominent citizens became supporters of the arts in the hope that they might be remembered in a similar fashion.

Yet what of the lesser golems, those baked from mud and clay and the detritus of the streets. The silent servants that perform the tasks that no-one else wants to. Who know what faces that adorn these pitiless creatures? Ask all you want. For all the words written in the heads, none will ever emerge from their lips.

But if you pay for sufficient drinks and listen carefully to the whispers of the right rotgut beggar in the wrong part of <<Luichirp capital>> , you might learn that the golem which cleans the sewers at the docks bears an uncanny resemblance to Hamish Two-Strings, the infamous murderer and rapist of Butcher Street.

In death, as in life, social hierarchies remain, carved in metal and stone and clay forever.