The Depths Below
Caves and basements
Just below the ground, in abandoned caves and run-down basements is a permanent twilight. They sometimes serve as shelters for the day to night creatures, until they can return to the darkness that is their home. Smaller cults gather to perform their rituals in the house of one of their members and ruffians hide from the gaze of policemen.
Even seemingly empty places are not safe. People tell every other day of shadows growing in the waning daylight, enough to swallow them whole. That is, for the lucky few who manage to escape the unseen perils hidden between crumbling crates.
Entrance to the Undermarket
Above, the occult commerce is highly regulated by Crown's hunters. Only licensed merchants are allowed to sell to the occult world, and the list of forbidden products is longer than the legal ones. Of course, many disagreed with the sudden interference of the crown in their business and refused to comply. I can't say I blame them. But rather than face the Queen and form a sort of syndicate, they shunned themselves where the royal gaze cannot coerce them.
To do business at the Undermarket, one must first find it. There is only one way to access it from the outside, and it is by the surface. In the eye of bystanders, they look like private clubs, storage rooms or gang hideouts. Only the initiate recognises the discrete signs of the market.
The guards behind the heavy doors will ask the usual questions: who are you? What business do you have in the market? What relation do you have with the crown? If your answer is satisfactory, they will open the way down. If not, you will be lucky to only find a shut door.
Do not expect the entrance you went through last time to be there again. They are used only once before moving location, thus are the key to the Undermarket's longevity.
Alphard Steinford's warehouse
Sea captains are accustomed to a different kind of bizarre than what lies in London, and are most of the time clueless about the shadow of the capital. Steinford is one of the few to be aware of the Abyss, and as such his warehouse is not like the rest of Shad Thames, half-buried into the ground, welcoming nightly customers including yours truly.
The Stray Cat
A private club that only opens after midnight, to enter the Stray Cat one must bear a specific ornament: the golden emblem of Crown's hunters. A safe house of respite and comfort, a place to exchange information with direct access to the deeper levels of London.
Sewers
Stagnating water and an underground maze make for a palace for the creatures that relinquish in filth. Many ghouls lay there during the day, sleeping or roaming in hope of fresh meat. Is it the smell of death and rot that drive them all here, or do they feel at ease in mud and waste? Still, they are the least evil down there. Goo abomination, wild sorceries and grafted experiments are trapped in the convolution, unable to find the way out. Mages and sorcerer experiment on living subjects in complete illegality in their ivory towers, only to discard their failures down where nobody sane would go.
Many rooms offer a safe-ish place from the repulsive air of the tunnels. Leftovers of previous sewer dwellers can be found there, dead fireplaces and rotten food as the silent witnesses of their passage. They were hermits, runaways or banished with nowhere else to go but their inevitable end.
Sewage workers
The tunnels are populated with all manners of foul beasts, and the unfortunate humans working to maintain London's waterways collect nightmares on a daily basis. They are in such proximity to the occult that they developed a keen sense of the abnormal. Though they are not exactly part of the Abyss, their corp learned to adapt and protect itself. To face death so often and still come back, there must be another motivation than their low salary. They see something down there, something terrible or wonderful. The look in their eyes when they come back up is rather unsettling.
Old Tom was here
If you see this mark in the sewers, you are headed the wrong way. Turning back and running away is advisable. A mischievous ghost or a benevolent soul, Old Tom's signs appear at corners, written in front of unopened doors or in the back of a directional sign. Only death awaits the fool who ignores the warning of this unfortunate traveller.
Rat Kingdom outpost
Deep in the meander of tunnels, the frequency of rat encounters increases. Their kingdom lies beneath this floor, but it is expanding, and they are beginning to colonise the place. They readily feed on stray Ghouls and recruit workers, but they seem to spare experienced ones. Unless they step too close to their territory, which always has been a grave mistake.
The Underground
Deep underneath is the last speck of humanity, far from the Sun. The rolling thunder of steam engines echoes in the ever-expanding Metropolitan Railway, shaking the surroundings. If the digging was eventful, requiring Crown's hunters to protect the workers even in the daytime, the occult world was quick to adapt. The numerous galleries and chambers dug over the years have been colonised. Whole areas have been abandoned or dug around, like the Anthill or the Rat Kingdom.
In such an enclosed space with already an awful lot of corpses, ghost stories are common. Truth is, they are almost all true, albeit harmless. Indeed, regular ghosts are but the souvenir of a life cut short, and nothing as intimidating as other shadows lurking beside the railways. As time pass, I am worried that the Tube will only get darker and darker until Londoners realise how hostile the underworld is to them.
The Phantom Train
Late in the night, at an unexpected schedule, a fireless train might stop at the platform. Exuding no steam or light, the very presence of the locomotive is uncanny. One should know better than to board it, as it stops only at the terminus. Whatever this station is, few passengers ever come back. Cultists of the Cosmic Sea use it to gather at an enigmatic shore, although they claim to have no link to its making.
Vampire vaults
Vampire families have always preferred to rest below the ground. When the excavations met with their family crypts, they were enraged, to say the least. Numerous bloodsheds rerouted the tracks before they began to see their interest in the railway system. Nowadays, most vampire mansions have direct access to the Tube, as it is much more convenient than going out through the front door and facing Crown's hunters patrols.
The Ungodly Altar
Built in black stone, the altar has an effigy carved in a porous stone. Representing the twisted figure of a faithless god the mere sight of the impious shape is enough to plunge the stronger hunter into despair and madness. There is no record of a cult venerating such divinity, but the fact that it is able to afflict demons implies it may represent an Outer God.
The House of Flies
Buzzing sound echoes in the tunnels around the room. Inside a walled prison, swarms of midges whirl around the lights brought by fly-headed humanoids. The identity of those people, as well as their agenda, is unknown, and they don't seem too keen on discussing any. Hunters and cultists discovered the hard way that millions of flying insects can clean a body to the bone in a matter of seconds.
The Abandoned Station
When they were still digging up the tunnels, workers found what seemed like an abandoned station. Built in the latest fashion, with state-of-the-art systems, it was dusty and littered with a strange gas that reminded them of fog. No tunnel led to the station and its name was too erased to be read. Coincidentally, a station was planned at this exact location, with the same dimensions. However, it was decided to reroute the track instead. The way to the station has not been completely sealed off, and though some think the Phantom Train park here during the day, nobody went to verify. Or nobody came back.
Undermarket
Bustling with activity, the irregular streets of the Undermarket are packed with all manners of people. Vendors drumming up business and customers from every horizon meet far from the inquisitory gaze of the Crown. Not everything is illicit, but there are no taxes and no questions. Trade is not reduced to money, anything can be exchanged. Services, poisons, relics, organs... In some circumstances, even living beings can be sold for various reasons. They don't like to talk about slavery, but there is not really a different word for it.
It is a dangerous place. As the market bloomed spontaneously from the resentment of ancient merchants, there are no leaders or laws and murder is a slight inconvenience. At first, it was only a couple of stalls in a cave below the ground, but with time, the market grew exponentially until it reached the size of a small town.
Ever moving, it has no fixed location. Rumours have it that the founders of the Undermarket bought the services of a mage to create a pocket dimension out of existence, only reachable through a set of entrances.
Open to all... almost
The market accepts anyone with things to sell or will to buy. Anyone but the Queen's men, and all hunters responding to the crown are rejected, and find themselves lucky to escape with their life. Lone hunters are fine, though, unless they happen to spy on the behalf of the government. The market may not have a central authority, but it doesn't mean it has no security, and few fates are worst than being trapped in a place full of enemies, out of space and time.
The Sanctum's storefront
I have considered, more than once, opening a small storefront in the Undermarket. As a regular, my visits are always profitable, but I don't think I have the time to open a subsidiary business. Maybe I could hire an assistant.
Ancient City
Below the train tracks are underpass no mere human should ever walk. Uncharted passageways in the Undeground go down steep stairs to a giant cave carved in clay. Troglodyte habitats, centuries-old stalactites and underground lakes border roman columns and medieval monasteries. At the crossroad of time, this city is home to ghosts of the past and deranged cults. Pale as death, the cultists that reside down there have long forgotten the warmth of the Sun, basking in the darkness of their sky of clay. They perform wretched rituals to please their patrons, waging a war against each other to take over sacrifices and the scarce supplies the place provides.
Even the maddened devouts stick to the most recent constructions, reluctant to venture outside their territories. Beyond, the wildest caves are home to otherworldy horrors, winged beasts that fly between the spike in the ceiling and behemoths buried there since the dawn of time. Demons and angels secluded in their lair await, quietly, the final confrontation of their cult. Unnamed animals that belong to no classification and rare mushrooms useful to my alchemy can only be found there, and although I set foot down there once, I much prefer to pay foolish adventurers to do the trip for me.
Essence wells
Scattered all over the city, essence wells are holes in the ground filled with a strange substance. Looking into a well is like diving into a splendid night sky of shifting stars, and touching it is chilly as a gentle breeze. Some of them glow in the dark, illuminating the otherwise dark hallways. They are, without a doubt, reservoirs of ancient magic destined to do great things. Through occult sorcery, it is possible to sap this power to feed it to power-hungry demons or weave unreasonable spells.
The palace of Thorns
The building must have been marvellous once. Even as a ruined shadow of its past self, the high columns circled with stony rose stem is enrapturing. Rather than a palace, I think it was once a temple, but the giant seat where the statue of the god should rest is empty as if the god stood up and left. Center of many cult wars, the essence well at the centre of the interior court seems endless, a dream for fanatics performing draining rituals. Disfigured after the events of the Shattering, there have been reports that the thorns are growing bigger and sharper, as a plant trying to repel aggression.
The Howling Tower
In the middle of the most modern part of the Ancient City a tower rises up to the ceiling, dozens of meters high. The top looks like the Clock Tower, but the dials are missing and the glass is cracked in several places. Bats can be seen entering and leaving the tower like it is their nesting place. Sometimes, a thrilling howl emanates from the tower, sending a swarm of panicked bats plunging the lower city into chaos.
The Nest
Perhaps the origin of all spiders, the Nest is an obscure place beneath the Ancient City. A large den coated in silk web span a third of the city. Regular spiders continuously flow from its gaping maw to climb the cavern's wall and disappear through the cracks. Inside, the spider goddess and her giant offspring ward off intruders and welcome the weeping gifts brought by her arachnomorph cultists.
God Effigy
The golden effigy stands proudly at the centre of the Ancient City. Whatever you believe your god is, it will have its figure. This is how such an opulent display of religious wealth managed to remain on the battlefield of cults. It is said that if one who believes in no god looks at the statue, their own face will look back. That is quite narcissistic, for atheists to think they are their own god.
The Depths Below
Under the Ancient City is terra incognita. The stone warms up and a lake of black oil pours into the galleries. Yet, tunnels are dug there, and people ventured further down. There is no sanity to seek, no reason to find this low. Day and night lose their meaning as only rocks surround the wanderer. Fringe cults venerating the heart of nature or Outer Gods find shelter far from the world, their mind lost to obscure patrons.
Even demons, creatures from the low realm of Hell, refuse to descend past a certain point. They do not fear heat nor hunger and can live for centuries in their vessels, yet something down there frightens them. Something more ancient than them, knowledge of which comes up sporadically. What lies below is only speculation, and I, for one, would prefer it to stay this way.
The streets of London are a dangerous place to be at nightfall. However, it is only the superficial layer of the Abyss. The things that roam the surface are by far the less dangerous of them all, and the closest to humans. Beneath the ground lies only madness and creatures defying common sense. The way down is long, and dangerous, and no rewards await at the end. Tread carefully, as the very knowledge of what lurks underneath is a source of nightmares.
In this folder are some notes I managed to take during some of my trips underground.
Click on the buttons above to reveal the rest of the article. TW: spiders on the fifth tab.
This is some masterful use of the tabs CSS! I love how much info you've packed in, and how the theming changes on each tab :O really really great work!
Thank you for the kind words, and again for making this incredible CSS accessible, it really saved me there! Also, the tilde trick you taught in your imaginaerium article came in clutch to make the theming changes :D
Yay! I'm so glad that helped too! Tilde is an amazing character, you can do so much fun and funky stuff with it >:D