Corva
Some people just seem to have always been around London. Corva's been a lively fixture of the bohemian scene since that scene was invented in London's decidedly glammier era, though her recent more mature years have been quieter. So far, anyway. She was probably once more "known" than she is now, considering her age; she certainly carries herself with the easy confidence and quick humor of someone who knows more than a thing or two about the city.
These days, she runs one of the staggering multitude of London's boutiquey boho vintage shops over on Portobello Road in Chelsea, if by "running it" one is inclined to count "owning it, making the buying decisions somewhat whimsically and letting someone else sort the details because she can't be arsed."
Likes: pretty things, spicy food, darjeeling, working-class slang, pulling on tails, messing with tourists.
Dislikes: electronic surveillance and bloody bores.
- West End Girl, Native Londoner. Corva's most often seen around the north heart of things, landscape-wise: the City of London, Kensington & Chelsea, Tower Hamlets. Hackney's promising these days. She knows the fly-over boroughs and will cheerfully describe them precisely as such.
- Music. She's got some connection or other to the London music scene, or once did. Gig players and music historians might bump into her or maybe recognize the name from somewhere in a vintage edition of a city gossip rag. She also sings sometimes -- she's quite good, both in her own right and in the cheeky impersonations -- if she feels like it, preferring smaller older clubs and live venues.
- Daughter of a Military Man. Odd, that, given her sometimes-sticky fingers. Her formidable father was a Yeoman Warder and she frequently visits his grave over in Abney Park. She does like cemeteries, but only by day, and knows every inch of the Tower itself as if she was born there.
- Style. She has her own, of course, because that's only right and proper. It's not art, so much. But if you have a keen eye and a way of winging it through London's fickle flavors -- and seek the same in others -- you're in good company. Her appraising eye is legendary in some circles.
- Gossip. She loves it. Indulges in it. Scavenges it. Breathes it in like it's damp London air and often trades it generously once she gets going.
- Gaz Partridge, so very serious but then, he has to be. Salt of the earth and trash is treasure, as we say, but he hasn't figured that out yet. Hopefully there's still time.
- Harry Smith is a long acquaintance, one of the few remaining. More valuable than he knows, though he wouldn't know actual value if it landed on his head from the top of the Gherkin. Solid bass axeman and gets the chicks for free.
The Beatles Blackbird
David Bowie Oh! You Pretty Things
Pet Shop Boys West End Girls
Pink Floyd Learning To Fly
Mark Knopfler Coyote
Lenny Kravitz Fly Away
Johnny Hartman Unforgettable
David Bowie Girl Loves Me
| Name: | Corva Jane Caine |
| Appears In-Game As: | Corva |
| AKA | Myrrhbeak, Serious-Moonlight, Tower-Mother. |
| Occupation: | Boutique shop owner, Bohemian, Original West End Girl |
| Apparent Age: | Fifty |
| Demeanor: | Jester |
| Eye Color: | Glinty Dark |
| Hair Color: | Soft Silver |
| Birthday: | May 21 |
Area Knowledge 3
Dexterity 5: She can navigate other people's pockets like nobody's business, and good luck landing a hit before she's off.
Base of Operations: If you're often in the inner-city Umbra, you may have heard of the Turris Alarum.
Cursed: Should the ravens ever leave the Tower of London, the kingdom will fall.
