From: [[]] Here they are again! The guffawing tomb-sisters they call the Mercies, clattering up in their phaeton. One is smoking a pipe: a chancy proposition for a bandadged tomb-colonist. "Wine for thrills," the left-most Mercy croaks. [Find the rest of the story at ]
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| rdfs:label
| - The unquiet dead, once more
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| rdfs:comment
| - From: [[]] Here they are again! The guffawing tomb-sisters they call the Mercies, clattering up in their phaeton. One is smoking a pipe: a chancy proposition for a bandadged tomb-colonist. "Wine for thrills," the left-most Mercy croaks. [Find the rest of the story at ]
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| Success title
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| LuckChallenge
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| Failure title
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| Failure description
| - The phaeton lurches round a corner. Another. It begins to gather speed. […]
[…] you fly out like a flung stone, falling in a tumble on the pavement. The phaeton charges on. Crow-harsh laughter drifts back on the wind.
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| From Card/Storylet title
| - Bandages and Dust: The Tomb-Colonies
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| Unlocked with
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| Success description
| - […] Dowagers and urchins alike scatter before the terrible wheels of the Mercies. 'Have at you, pink-skins!" roars the right-most gleefully. Then the whistles of the Constables sound, and one of them pushes you […]. "For your own good!" she cries.[…]
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| dbkwik:fallenlondo...iPageUsesTemplate
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| Description
| - Here they are again! The guffawing tomb-sisters they call the Mercies, clattering up in their phaeton. One is smoking a pipe: a chancy proposition for a bandadged tomb-colonist. "Wine for thrills," the left-most Mercy croaks.
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| abstract
| - From: [[]] Here they are again! The guffawing tomb-sisters they call the Mercies, clattering up in their phaeton. One is smoking a pipe: a chancy proposition for a bandadged tomb-colonist. "Wine for thrills," the left-most Mercy croaks. [Find the rest of the story at ]
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