Election candidates

	A	B	C	D	E	F	G	H	I	J	K	L	M	N
1		Learn more about the Candidates	Card description	Learn more about Madame Shoshana's platform	Make fun of Madame Shoshana	Ask Madame Shoshana for her opinion on Mrs Plenty [1 Reputation]	Ask Madame Shosana for her opinion on Virginia [1 Reputation]	Discover her plans for London [5 Reputation]	Probe Madame Shoshana about the rumours [5 Reputation]	Choose a Target: Madame Shoshana's Campaign [Flash Lay]	Choose Madame Shoshana as your candidate	Ask Madame Shoshana to share a confidence [10 Reputation, Pledged support]	Assist in a private reading with Madame Shoshana [5 Reputation, 12 Fate]	Election 1897: The Victor is Announced
2	Madame Shoshana	Doom upon London Madame Shoshana announced her candidacy in the horoscopes page of the London Gazette: you will have the opportunity to vote for Shoshana in the upcoming Election. This was followed by a prediction that a woman would be the next mayor, and a warning that bats are in the Sixth House. She was forced to make a more specific pronouncement at Hastings Square. Here she warned of a general doom due to fall upon London and a specific and particularly nasty doom about to descend on Virginia. According to Madame Shoshana, London faces certain destruction. She's hazy on the details, but she is crystal clear that only London having a Mayor Shoshana will avert the disaster.	Madame Shoshana's coalition of supporters are a gloomy bunch. Grim poets, grieving widows, fire and brimstone preachers, downtrodden workers; all flock to the lacy banners of the fortune teller. They wear black, in mourning for London's future, and recite direful predictions on every street corner. Each of them has a favourite direful prophecy. Many of them have specific one, just for you.	Direful dreams Philonous the Uncanny is on hand to answer your questions. Just as soon as he's convinced a group of morbid artists that Madame Shoshana is trying to stop the end of London. He favours you with a careful smile. "We thought you'd ask that. We see all. . Madame Shoshana has been driven to seek office because of her dreams. She sees cities aflame, and falling to dust. She sees tides of Lacre. She sees the French falling in. She sees Berlin and Vienna, St Petersburg and Melbourne." As for what Madame Shoshana means to do to avert this danger, Philonous frowns. "London requires psychic protection. We mean for the Ministry to get involved."	A stronger suit You erect a big tent around Madame Shoshana's while she's taking an afternoon nap. You install yourself inside, clad in a dozen dubiously occult necklaces. When customers arrive, you provide them with increasingly ludicrous fortunes. Devils will find God; temperance campaigners will discover a taste for honey and wine, and the Duchess will adopt a basset hound. Each is delivered with all the portent you can muster. Eventually Madame Shoshana flies from her tent, in tears. "I don't sound like that," she quavers, before parting the curtains and disappearing.	A bright present Madame Shoshana is busy ruining a seance. She's answering questions before the medium has time to ask them. Eventually, he leaves in high dudgeon. Madame Shoshana smiles. "That's better. We can't afford people being confused at this juncture," she says. "Now you want to know about Mrs Plenty?" Madame Shoshana has a number of complaints: having to work long hours, with no recognition or respect. Mrs Plenty smokes her horrible pipe outside Shoshana's tent – deliberately, she's sure of it. But, Madame Shoshana is not without sympathy. She has drawn Mrs Plenty's past and future, many a time. It begins with darkness and ends in appetite.	A promising future You have to hunt high and low for Madame Shoshana today. You eventually find her in Mrs Plenty's tent smoking from a long pipe. "I'm hiding," she says conspiratorially, "Just want a bit of time to think. And nap. I want to be clear as I can be about the energies I have spied colluding behind the veil." She's happy to hold forth on the topic of Virginia. "She's not like the other devils. I drew her card. The Manacled One. She doesn't belong here." Madame Shoshana frowns. "But you mustn't trust devils. They spent too long on the other side."	Work to come Madame Shoshana has continued her carnival work during the campaign, spending several hours of her day in her stall, performing readings, peering into her crystal ball, and when the butcher's been by, the odd bit of haruspicy. You find her there today, helping a young poet with his complex love life. "I'm sorry," she says as she ushers him out, "It's simply beyond my power – there aren't enough Lovers in the deck." She's relieved to answer your questions. "It's about foresight. And love. Love will stave off the end. Of that, I am certain. I just don't know whose love, for whom. Or what. Still, I mean to work with concerned citizens to promote love, unity and guide people together. I am thinking of a title I saw in a dream. 'Madame Shoshana's Lost Hearts'." She smiles blissfully.	In the cards You haven't even set out for the carnival when there's a knock at your door. It's Madame Shoshana. "A flying visit, I'm afraid, I've a consultation imminently. But first, I wanted to reassure you." She settles herself in your second favourite chair. "I have, in the past, not always been accurate. Readings and visions require interpretation. Sometimes, I misunderstood what I saw. The past is a foreign country and its byways are shrouded in the mists of time, a veil I will not part." She smiles and shrugs her shoulders. "My readings, however, are first rate. There's no one else in the city who can do what I can." She finishes playing with a deck of your cards. When she turns them over, you see three cards: each of which proves startlingly relevant to the rest of your day.	Arrangements for dinner and just desserts Getting to the heart of Madame Shoshana's intentions involves dispelling a great deal of smoke and mirrors. Leads on Madame Shoshana's role as secret grand dame of an exclusive coterie of magicians prove false. So too does the suggestion that she's involved in thoroughly scandalous seances (ectoplasm was the least of it). You waste hours pursuing phantoms. Until, that is, you receive word of a standing dinner reservation at a small and anonymous restaurant. It has never been visited by the great and good. But it has been visited by Madame Shoshana, and Dr Schlomo. The restaurant is empty on these occasions, but careful observation reveals both leave these lengthy candlelit dinners with bulging notepads.	The end might be nigh soon Madame Shoshana's supporters crowd the streets of Elderwick. Society matrons and flashy magicians eye each other cautiously. Anarchists, clergy and the occasional poet flit around the edges of the gloomy throng. Philonous the Uncanny, the carnival mesmerist, has a black rosette for you. "Glad to have you. Don't worry, no one here has been hypnotised." He winks, extravagantly. "I'm only here to shore up the good Madame's spirits. She carries the cares of London on her shoulders," he says, pinning the rosette to your collar. An urchin tugs your sleeve. "There's something for you in Mr Mirror's Marquee. You'll be picking it up shortly. I see'd it Shoshana's crystal ball."	A new friend Madame Shoshana is in her tent; you have to push through numerous beaded curtains and clouds of incense to find her. A gramophone plays the sound of wind-chimes mixed with the noises of deep-zee creatures. Madame Shoshana is in a temper. "Did you hear what that brass harpy said?" she demands, "Me! Honey-mazed! The very idea! I come by my visions honestly." She sighs dramatically. "I will be mayor. Love is the answer. I just don't know the question." She sighs. "I suppose I do sound a bit like an old fraud. But I'm telling the truth." She takes your hand. "You believe me – don't you?"	https://www.fallenlondon.com/profile/Azoth%20I/16493320	Other days "I saw it coming," she says with a sad little smile. "But I couldn't help myself. I should have stayed out of it and let Miriam win. I know I split the vote." She sighs. "I saw disaster if I didn't win. Disaster we shall have." She frowns. "Or maybe if she'd just taken me seriously, she wouldn't have run against me. I shall have to have words. A bigger tent, at the very least." She slips you a sheaf of documents from her bag. "I know you'll put these to good use. Until we meet again. We're in for interesting times." She is about to go, when she turns back. "Be careful in Arbor, my dear."
3		Learn more about the Candidates	Card description	Learn more about Mrs Plenty's platform	Discommode Mrs Plenty	Ask Mrs Plenty for her opinion on Madame Shoshana [1 Reputation]	Ask Mrs Plenty for her opinion on Virginia [1 Reputation]	Ask Mrs Plenty about her plan for London [5 Reputation]	Ask Mrs Plenty about her entanglements [5 Reputation]	Choose a Target: Mrs Plenty's Campaign [Flash Lay]	Choose Mrs Plenty as your candidate	Persuade Mrs Plenty to share a confidence [10 Reputation, Pledged support]	Take a tour of Mutton Island with Mrs Plenty [5 Reputation, 12 Fate]	Election 1897: The Victor is Announced
4	Mrs Plenty	A woman of fixed views Mrs Plenty appears from behind a conveniently placed postbox. "Look, I heard you was having a nosy about and thought I'd come and stick my beak in." "There's that old theory about the king's two bodies, ain't there? There's his public body, which is the state, and then there's his private body. His character. If the king's weak or barmy or sick, the realm suffers." She sniffs. "Don't hold with royalty meself. But point is, if the realm's sick, invariably his highness is runnin' a fever. London's a bit like that – city gets a headache, we're all in bed for a week." "What we need is someone sensible in charge. Firm character. Won't hold with any funny business." She smiles broadly. "What it needs is me."	Though her supporters can be found all over, advertising her campaign and her shows on on gaudy banners all over town, Mrs Plenty herself is still frequently to be found working at her carnival. "Too much to bleedin' do. Once all this palaver is over, I'll be able to focus on what matters," she says. Her tent is filed with a rogue's gallery of performers, poets and politicians. Some are decidedly more comfortable in the rowdy environs of the carnival than others.	Muggins "More questions!" Mrs Plenty barks, but she saunters cheerfully over to you, bearing a toffee apple. "Don't arsk me where the toffee comes from," she says. "I've people who sort that." "The way I sees it, we've had too much ambition lately. Too much b____y going on, if you'll pardon my English. We've had three mayors – of very varying success. Endless foreign ambassadors, an Elder Continent city invading our dreams, a royal weddin', a bloomin' tentacle cult and more crimes than you can shake a stick at." She pauses for breath. "London needs an 'oliday. A jolly good 'oliday. And I'm the woman to make it happen."	Irreverent You bring costumes. You bring puppets. You bring wings. A hastily assembled stage in the middle of the carnival is your canvas. Before its shabbily painted backdrop, you conjure a frothy melodrama of Mrs Plenty's exploits. A crowd gathers, mouths agape. They are evidently in awe of your artistry – and your audacity. His Amused Lordship goes quite purple when his puppet makes an appearance in Mrs Plenty's boudoir. You are summarily ejected from the carnival, your puppets flung at your head one after the other – but the people are laughing. Oh, how they're laughing.	"Should've waited her turn." Mrs Plenty is a woman in much demand. She's finally able to see you at the end of day, provided you don't comment on her supper habits. Said habits involve a whole a flask of brandy. Between swigs, she relates her opinions on 'that woman'. In Mrs Plenty's esteemed opinion, 'that woman' is a liar, a charlatan, a no-good mountebank, an ingrate, biting the hand that feeds her, a mistress of chicanery and Judas reincarnated. Is Mrs Plenty actually proud of her?	Mrs Plenty's disapproval "Oo?" Mrs Plenty asks, when you catch her daubing a thick layer of paint on a moustache she's added to a poster of Madame Shoshana from up a rickety ladder. "Oh. Her." Once you've assisted Mrs Plenty from the ladder, she treats you to a ploughman's lunch at her local pub. "Now, everyone knows I'm an egalitarian woman. Won't hear a bad word 'bout nobody on account of what they is. But who they is is another matter altogether." She frowns. "She's a toff. I know the devils are all Republicans or what have you. But that one's a toff to her bones. She's a bad'un. She'll give devils a bad name."	A pause in hostilities Mrs Plenty is cooling her heels at a notorious watering hole just off the Carnival. The proprietor is keeping her well-wishers, admirers and a number of suitors away from the door. She raises her tankard in a toast when she sees you, and pats the bench beside her. "I don't think it'll be easy. Everyone else gets some peace, Muggins here does the work. Honest constables to keep the peace, selected by me, a public 'oliday on Mutton Island, bribes to every ambassador you care to think of to b____r off for a bit. What I means," she says, eyes glinting, "Is to keep the wolves from our door for another year."	A complex lady Mrs Plenty lets out a hearty bellow. "At my time of life, I welcome any chance for a good corruptin'." She glances at the crowd near by, making sure no one missed 'Mrs Plenty being a good sport'. "Now, listen here," she continues, "I am wot I am, and I 'aven't larsted this long without knowing a good deal about wot other people are. I can use me connections, and a few sharp words in the right lugholes to achieve equilibrium."	A lengthy entertainment Few have anything negative to say about Mrs Plenty. There's the odd puritan who take against her and her carnival as a provision of excess joy. A few employees make the usual gripes, but cheerfully, as if posturing and not sincere. Could she genuinely be this popular? You glean more by ingratiating yourself with her inner circle: carnival stalwarts, under the loose leadership of the Illuminated Gentlemen. After an investment of wine at a more upmarket restaurant, their tongues loosen. There are plans afoot. Expanded positions. Increased budget to bring in big attractions. New costumes. New venues. And best of all, none of this will come from their wages. Everyone at the carnival will prosper. Except for 'that woman'. She gets to keep renting her tent, but the rent will go up.	A long few years Despite her slogan, Mrs Plenty's supporters are a noisy crowd. Bohemians. Carnival barkers, trapeze artists, tomb-colonists and a tiger or two process in her wake. His Amused Lordship is managing Mrs Plenty's campaign. There are some teething troubles; when he has finished manoeuvring a set of bunting bearing Mrs Plenty's rosy visage into place, he turns to you with a smile. "Glad to see you aboard. Have a rosette. Don't comment on the colour – at least not where she can hear you." The rosette is a hideous shade of puce. His Amused Lordship calls after you. "Oh! Almost forgot. We have something for you in Mr Mirrors' Marquee!"	A long way home Mrs Plenty pours you both a generous helping of gin. "Truth be told, I would like to do something for the old stompin' ground. Mutton Island." She sips her drink, smacking her lips ruminatively. "Bit of a shame them all being out there, only visited once a year, and only 'cause they put on a good enough show. I'm not proposin' we build a bridge, mind. But might be we could bring a piece of Mutton Island to London." She downs her gin. "Maybe a new attraction. Somethin' to give people a real taste of the old place. Not the mummer's show we put on for the kiddies."	https://www.fallenlondon.com/profile/Azoth%20I/16493326	A long ruddy holiday Mrs Plenty pats you on the arm. "Well, I was beaten by a fraud. Just not the one I was expecting. Still, guess I've a new attraction for the Carnival. Roll up, roll up, 'ave a gawp at the biggest fool in London. Pin the rosette on ol' Miriam Plenty." She laughs, over extravagantly. "I wanted to thank you for your help. I've pulled a few strings. It's just some bits and pieces I never got to use. Now, 'ave yourself a drink and a cry. I'm going to. And then take a holiday. I'll be back when I can face this ruddy city again." She hurries away.
5		Learn more about the Candidates	Card description	Learn more about Virginia's campaign	Harangue Virginia	Ask Virginia's opinion on Mrs Plenty [1 Reputation]	Ask Virginia's opinion on Madame Shoshana [1 Reputation]	Ask about Virginia's plans for London [5 Reputation]	Prove Virginia's motives [5 Reputation]	Choose a Target: Virginia's Campaign [Flash Lay]	Choose Virginia as your candidate	Ask Virginia to share a confidence [10 Reputation, Pledged support]	Accompany Virginia on a hunt [5 Reputation, 12 Fate]	Election 1897: The Victor is Announced
6	Virginia	Good for the soul Virginia's candidacy was followed by an immediate disavowal by the Brass Embassy. 'Nothing to do with us,' the ambassadors were quoted in the Gazette, 'She's your problem now.' The devil's rejection of Virginia may have something to do with her planned programme for London: 'Virginia's Clean Bill of Health.' It is a policy of public works designed to improve the health of the average Londoner. She has termed it 'callisthenics for the soul'. Despite her difficulties with the Embassy, she is amply supported by devils on the street. Her supporters skirt the edge of good taste. Several posters have had to be confiscated by the Ministry, depicting Virginia as a new Elizabeth, emblazoned with the words 'Rex Virginia.'	Virgina's supporters include doctors, barbers, worried Society matrons, devils, goat-demons and a surprising number of clergy. This disparate coalition can be found leafleting gin shops, student lodgings and the favourite dining establishments of Ministry auditors. Their backgrounds are diverse, but their message is the same: 'Don't we all have room for a little improvement?' Virginia's followers don't preach abstinence, nor even restraint. They advocate exercises, physical and spiritual, and spread the twin practices of penitence and callisthenics wherever they go.	A clean bill of health Virginia is busy, scouting out suitable locations for her new public spa. Fortunately, Dr Ortho is on hand to answer any questions you might have. "Metaphysically speaking, London is a cess-pit," he says with grim relish as you both survey a mouldering tenement in Ladybones Road. As you watch, paint peels from the wall, landing in the street in a cloud of spores. "The Mayor is limited in what they can achieve. And a spa is just the beginning. We are modern people! Through modern medicine, we can improve the moral – and aesthetic –timbre of London's people."	Opening eyes You mount a podium in the Square of Lofty Words, carrying armfuls of homemade placards. You shout the truth until you are blue in the face. Namely, that Virginia is a devil. A devil who is promising to look after people's souls. What is wrong with everybody? There are some gasps from the crowds; pointing out this fact is in very poor taste, apparently. But a few nod along; others frown or rub their chins. Perhaps you've managed to convey some sense, before your vocal chords gave out.	Doctor's orders You find Virginia addressing a group of learned physicians outside a Summerset lecture hall. She greets you with a smile; she has, she says, always got time for her would-be constituents. When you mention Mrs Plenty however, Virginia scowls. "The carnival woman? This is exactly the sort of thing I'm campaigning on. Public health. It can't be good for the old lady being exposed to all of this. Certainly not with her appetites, to say nothing of the state of her soul. And shame on everyone letting her do it. What I'd prescribe," she says with a satisfied smile, "Is a cup of something hot, and a lie down. Leave governing to those of us with the faculties for it.	Annoying truths Virginia is busy at Wolfstack Docks today, questioning those leaving for – and returning from –the tomb-colonies.". Still, she's happy to give a few moments of her time in order to slander her rivals. "Trespassing on the future carried strict sentences in the old days. There were cages, then. Prisons where you'd forget that you'd ever been free." She sighs, wistfully. "Sadly, London is lax in these matters. And even if she has stumbled into the shadow of some genuine calamity," she looks you in the eye, "who would you trust more to defend your city?" She smiles. It is not a pleasant smile. "Remember, only one of us has been to war."	Expeditions Virginia is riding in the Forgotten Quarter today. It is at least an hour before anyone can find her. She is announced by the peel of a silver trumpet, and the sound of hooves on stone. She dismounts, her colour high and her eyes bright. "My plans," she says, draining a goblet of wine handed to her by a supporter, "Are simple. I shall open a spa. Bodily health, and spiritual needs, will be catered for. The Neath offers so much opportunity for glory, but so many Londoners seek out smallness and dullness. I offer improvement; a honing of the self, like a knife on a whetstone."	Academic pursuits You find Virginia stepping down from a hustings at the Medusa's Head. Campaign staff clamour about her, offering her books to read, wine to drink and rubble they've found in the Forgotten Quarter to intrigue her; she waves them all away. "There's a canny question," she says with a delighted smile. "One I'd ask, if we had elections back home. Democracy was a regrettable afternoon. But be assured, Hell is not behind me on this one. Mr Slowcake didn't work, and wasted a lot of resources. This is purely for my own academic inquiry. Hell isn't interested in elevating the competition."	Strange bedfellows Surreptitious enquiries at the Embassy confirm Virginia's own words: Hell is not funding her. Indeed, in the opinion of the infernal diplomats, the whole affair is entirely embarrassing. They'd rather she cease her involvement immediately. A tip-off from an irate vicar clues you into the source of Virginia's support. Clandestine meetings are being held in the undercroft of an abandoned Catholic church. Careful lurking gets you within earshot of one such meeting. Its attendees are Temperance campaigners. The meeting is heated. The ladies are delighted by Virginia's promises, but are unsure about her strategy, and decidedly uncomfortable with some of those she consorts with. Still, they hope her message will win out in the end. For now, restoring the health of London's soul outweighs the cost of its remedy.	Lady in brimstone Virginia's supporters are a ragtag group – devils, (naturally), goat-demons, a few minor clergy, several athletically inclined Benthic students, and a number of Society luminaries. The devils are attempting to lead the rest in a rousing chant, but the crowd are used to dreary Anglican hymns. They are not making the best fist of it. Dr Orthos pins a deep crimson rosette to your lapel. "She might be onto something," he confides, "No one can outrun Virginia. Besides, while she's set up in the Mayor's office, I have less competition in the Forgotten Quarter." He pats your rosette into place. "Be sure to check in at Mr Mirror's Marquee. There's something for you there."	The devil's charity Virginia takes you for lunch at Dante's. ("I want to treat such a loyal footsoldier.") You dine on veal drowning in red wine sauce. She eats heartily. "Campaigning musters an appetite." Between mouthfuls, she addresses your question. "Is London in safe hands with me? Of course not. I am, after all, a devil. More relevantly, I'm me. But, look around! Can you say that London is in the best of health? London is filled with corruption, degeneracy, paucity of ambition." She wipes her mouth delicately on a pressed napkin. "London's reserves in the only currency that matters are almost spent. I mean to give the city a fighting chance. Call me a good sportswoman." She pays the bill when it comes.	https://www.fallenlondon.com/profile/Azoth%20I/16445966	The devil in the details Virginia gives you a quirked smile. "My hardest working supporter. Perhaps it's a cliché, but I couldn't have done it without you. What a tolerant city London has proved to be!" She passes you a sheaf of documents. "My thanks." "Lord Mayor? Lord? Is that a calculated insult do you think? Perhaps I should ask him to join me in the Forgotten Quarter some time." She turns her attention back to the crowd. "All of those people. And a year to improve the fortitude of their souls. My spa will open soon. I wonder who'll visit first?