Crack open a crate

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This page contains details about Fallen London Actions.


From: Deliver a Crate from the Khanate


Surely whatever is inside is more valuable than whatever the Widow would pay?

Game Instructions: Contents of crates are highly variable. The only constant is that you will lose some Connected: The Widow.


Success

Something hateful

Egad! Who smuggles a marsh-wolf? What was that thing even doing in the Khanate?

Alternative Success

Something osseous

A bone of no particular description, nestled in straw. Without knowing the provenance, its value is a mystery.

Alternative Success

Something grisly

Your zailors cringe as the lid comes off the box. The severed arm looks relatively fresh – is it a warning? A trophy?

Alternative Success

Something powdery

The crate is filled with small boxes full of fine, dry, silvery powder. Fascinating. Perhaps the Widow is branching out.

Alternative Success

Something quiet

Carefully packed in straw and wrapped in paper: a bottle. It seems empty at first, but shaking it reveals the soul nestled within, still as the becalmed zee.

Alternative Success

Something ancient

The crate contains a great deal of packing straw and a single envelope. Inside is a single echo; completely familiar to you, yet not at all like the coins and bills that circulate in London.

Alternative Success

Something forged

The crate contains a consignment of mundane crockery that's not worth holding on to. But nestled inside a teapot: a few sheaves of paper bearing familiar seals. The work of an expert forger, perhaps.

Alternative Success

Something heavy

This crate was packed end to end with books – mostly penny romances and old pamphlets. But a few seem unusual – is that a third edition of the Manual of Sub-subterranean Stratigraphy? My word.

Alternative Success

Something brilliant

The crate is packed with cheap tea, not worth holding on to. But buried in the dry, bitter leaves is a gemstone of unusual size.

Alternative Success

Something sour

The crate is packed full of brutally ugly porcelain figurines, the kind that even the greatest enthusiast of nostalgic crockery would sooner smash out of shame […] But there – hiding among the packing straw […] is a bottle with a horse's head stopper.

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