Let them bury their secrets with you

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From: The Errors of London

Some Londoners hide their collected confessions. They whisper the confessions to the stones; to walls, to statues. The rite works - so long as the statue is indeed stone, and not, say, a cleverly disguised individual.

Locked with A Confession of Curiosity from the Dauntless Temperance Campaigner, A Confession of Guile from Clathermont, A Confession of Impropriety from the Assured Filmmaker, A Confession of Violence from the Sardonic Music-Hall Singer, A Confession of Pride from the Duchess, A Confession of Whimsy from Colonel Molly

Challenge information

A matter of luck: It could go either way (success chance: 50-60%)"-60" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 50.


A fragmented portrait

A forbidden friendship between a Nought and a Cross. A butler blackmailed by the Duchess' cats, for stealing cream. The hired thug who took one finger too many. The footman who turned around.

Rare Success

Human follies

Lovers who should have forgotten each other. A woman who desires friendship with Death. A child who sought the Sun and never returned. A man who believed he could never be forgiven.


What happened to the spirit of the holiday?

You maintain the same aching pose for hours, even when your make-up itches and canny zailors flick coins at your face. But not a single soul approaches you with secrets.


The fastest statue in the Neath

Your make-up was flawless. Your pose relaxed - comfortable, even. But there was no resisting the urge to sneeze - not even when a burly grandmother is confiding to you how her confidential friend once fed a rat-catcher to a plant.