Well, not *me* me. Another version of me. In a parallel universe, you might say. In a city pulled into the underworld. A capital now located East of Hell and ruled by the Bazaar, a greedy cabal of an unguessable species. It's a city where rats and mushrooms are the staple diet. Where royalty and urchins alike endure nightmares not entirely their own. Where clergy and ambassadors of Hell vie for your immortal soul. It's stocked with spies and pirates and monster hunters. Populated with stoic golems and walking squids, whispering cats and mechanically inclined rats. A world where ancient plaques can set your eyes ablaze and your reflection never quite copies you the way it should.
I invite you to read The adventures of one Doctor Darien Mason in Fallen London. If you dare.
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