Lighthouse Island and the Gorean Protocols

Fuschia,

I hope you’re resting your foot and not letting Oolon drag you about too far on your little jaunts. You know what happened when I went out with him and Miss Lightfoot looking for buried treasure. It took me hours to hammer the bite marks out of the diving helmet.

I’ve included a picture of a lovely tea set I found for you in the report as I know you like such things.

Love,

Alfonso


Having left the White City and travelled a little way further East, I came across a secluded wooded hillside that I thought would make an ideal overnight spot. A campsite and campfire were already set out, but no one was there to tend them. I hoped they wouldn’t mind me warming myself by the fire, although I was not presumptious enough to use their tent. I nodded off quite quickly in the flames’ warm orange glow and was soon dreaming of steam powered circus animals.

Awaking at dawn, I set the balloon’s burner to re-inflate the envelope and prepared to continue my trip. It would take half an hour or so for the balloon to reach full buoyancy, so I thought I’d take advantage of the time to stroll around.

Obviously the camp belonged to hunters. In the morning’s light I could see the tent I had found the previous night was decked out in animal furs, and at one side of the clearing stood two cages.

Continuing around the curve of the hill I found a wonderful view looking towards a small island complete with a lighthouse…and a person. I hailed them, but they either couldn’t hear me over the roar of the waves or I was just too far away to catch their attention. Once the balloon was ready I decided that would be my next destination.

Further on I found more buildings including an old water mill. I knocked on the door, but received no answer; however I did spy an ornate tea set that showed that, whoever the inhabitants were, they were obviously cultured and well mannered.

Finding no further signs of people, I climbed over the crest of the hill back to the balloon and set off for the island.

As I approached I called down a greeting and the young lady that I had seen from the shore vanished. This seemed to be becoming a habit with people I talked to. Maybe my size is a little too intimidating for casual, friendly social interaction. As I brought the balloon in for a steady, slow landing suddenly she was back, this time with two young men in tow. Was this a welcoming committee? Or had she just been off to find reinforcements? Thankfully the natives proved to be most friendly.

Although the young lady and one of her gentlemen friends said very little, the other, a Mr Skye Gray was very forthcoming. I explained my mission and he seemed very impressed and spent a while admiring the balloon, although seemed rather reluctant to come for a little sight-seeing tour. Talking to him, I discovered he was a neighbour who had seen me land and was just ensuring that I was intending no ill to the young lady, the island or lighthouse. I assured him that I was merely enjoying the view and learning what I could of the area, and was not intending to stay here long. I asked several times about the fabled passage to the Northern Continent, but he did not reply to any of those questions. I suspect the passage may be a closely guarded secret among some of the tribes here.

As we talked, I found my gaze drawn out to the ocean; to a low hazy shape out at sea. I enquired of Mr Gray what it was, but he seemed unsure. Was it a strip of land from the Northern Continent, or another island? Bidding farewell to my new friend I cast the balloon off and went to find out.

The shape squatting on the triangular raft in front of me did not move or respond to either shouts or warning shots. I dared not approach too closely, for simply looking at the thing made my skin crawl. I had the feeling that rather than just being a statue, it was a creature, merely sleeping, awaiting a call or signal that would arouse it from its slumber.

There was also something naggingly familiar about its shape. Something I had seen somewhere before, but that I could not quite place.

It was only when I had set a new course that I realised where I had seen it before. Mr Smashcan! Well, not Mr Smashcan himself, but the small creature he carries with him on his shoulder. I wonder if he realises they get this big when they get older?

As I pondered this eventuality, I drifted and soon found myself over a small primitive village. At what I presume was the village entrance, two huge stones stood engraved with writings. I swung the balloon in low to see if I could read them.

I’m not sure what “Gorean Protocols” are. Maybe some form of mainland legal system? And slavery! You hear many tales of the mainland, but I had not realised that slavery was still legal here.

It was probably best to continue on my way. The last thing I wished to become entangled with was slavers…

Island of Nightmares

Dear Governor Shang,

Please permit me to submit my first full report regarding my adventures on the mainland. I don't see why Alfonso should have all the fun (and besides, I promised him I would). You don't mind, do you?

You know Oolon, sorry, Mr Sputnik? Well he and Miss Lightfoot (she doesn't tend to stand on ceremony either and prefers to be called Terry) have been looking after me since Alfonso went away and I fell over that silly plank of his and hurt my foot. And Oolon decided that he would help me keep up my end by taking me about in his contraption. He calls her an "Etheric Transferral Device", whatever that means, when he isn't calling her "The Cabinet". No wonder the poor old girl doesn't work very well - she doesn't know what she's supposed to be.

Anyway, my foot was sufficiently better that last evening Oolon thought we might make a go of it. We duly assembled at his workshop in Mayfair ready for the off. I made sure to pack the teapot and some cake for our excursion. You never can tell what amenities will be available in the wilder places of the world and I am fond of a good cup of tea.



Oolon said that he had somewhere in mind that he thought we might like to see, but he wouldn't tell us where we were off to, claiming it would be so much more fun if it was a surprise. He's a big one for surprises is Oolon, which is no bad thing. So, off we went into the ETD and Oolon pushed some buttons and pulled some levers and at least this time it didn't make the bad noises. I don't like it when it makes those - it usually means its going to crash.

I began to get a little nervous when Oolon started to make clucking noises and mutter under his breath but we landed safely enough, so I thought no more of it until we got outside. Oolon then became most distressed because it appeared that ETD had been abducted from her course and we had landed somewhere completely unexpected. Unexpected, dark and creepy. I don't like dark and creepy; in Faerie, that's where the things that eat pixies like to live. I really wished that Alfonso was with us at that point. He's bigger than most things, which is a great comfort in situations like this. Well, except for the monstrous fish I nearly landed on when I fell off the bridge, but you know, usually he's the biggest creature around.












We began to explore, although I wanted to go for a cup of tea and wait for daylight, but the old girl can only hop somewhere for a few hours before she has to go home for a rest (at least, I think that's what Oolon meant). Everything was very big and very dark and we appeared to have entered some sort of temple to retail and picnics (there were blankets and picnic baskets everywhere).

It dawned on us with horror that we had been here before, Oolon and I. This place claimed to be Bora Bora, the Island of Dreams (from a sign on the retail temple wall), but oh how different it was to the first time I came here. Bora Bora was where I first stumbled into this world and met Oolon and Alfonso, but then it was a bright and sunny place with palm trees and golden beaches. What on earth could have happened in so short a time?

Terry led the way into the darkness. She's ever so brave is our Terry; I feel much safer knowing she's going to be travelling with us. I like to think of her as my big sister (and I don't think that she's afraid of anything).

It was Terry that found the big settee we could all have a rest on. It was more like the Bora Bora I remember (comfy and welcoming), but it didn't seem to belong to this Island of Nightmares.

Terry and Oolon pressed on and I trailed along behind, until we came to another temple, even more strange and terrible than the last. Oolon and Terry became very excited, babbling away about the "20th Century", whatever that may be. More worryingly, they also began to discuss the fact that we may have been harvested from the Ether to be part of a Grand Collection as the building was full of relics from places and times that shouldn't have been all in one place (apparently; I just have to take their word for things like this - this is beyond a pixie's knowing).













We made our way back out of the inner sanctum and onto a torchlit bridge, which led to a cottage that would not have been out of place in dear Caledon. Sadly, this merely lent greater credence to Oolon’s theory of a mad collector harvesting interesting items as the mood took him.

From the bridge we could also see an isle shrouded in flowing mists. It was just as scary as everywhere else in this midnight world, but I decided that for once I must be brave and promptly flew off to investigate.

Imagine my surprise when I arrived: Here was a lovely temple, beautifully lit with glowing rays, so serene and calm after the horrors of the land around it. I haven’t seen anything like it since I left my little glen. Not that I had a temple (pixies aren’t grand enough for temples), but the light was the same, exactly the same. For the first time since I arrived in your world, I have to say that I felt homesick. But then I thought about all the lovely friends that I’d made and it didn’t seem so bad.

Oolon and Terry arrived and told me that their sensors had picked up lifeforms on the island. My pixie senses had been twitching a bit, but they’re not as well tuned as Oolon’s scientifical bobbinijigs. We searched everywhere, but couldn’t find them. I was beginning to think that they were invisible when I tripped over my cast and fell into the water (fortunately pixies don’t shrink in the wet). And there they were!! I called to Oolon and Terry, but Oolon wouldn’t come in. I don’t think he likes water very much. Terry did join me, but I was in for another surprise – she was a big purple fish lady! Anyway, more on that in a moment, if you can bear with me.

The two creatures looked like human females, but very skimpily outfitted. They also appeared to be completely mute. One did attempt to communicate through a series of movements that looked suspiciously like the ones Alfonso does when he’s warming up his muscles for a lifting feat, so perhaps they were a primitive race of strongmen who have yet to develop speech. Then again, I do remember stories about mermaids who lose their voices when they get legs (mermaid biology must be pretty odd, even by my standards, if growing legs affects your voice; maybe it’s the shock?). Another possibility is that they were captured, like we had been, and the transfer process had left them dazed and silent. Or they could belong to the primitive race of Noobs I’ve heard people in Caledon discussing. Anyway, they were pretty boring and even Terry attempting to nudge one of them over illicited very little in the way of a response, so we left them to it.

I was curious about Terry’s fish lady trick, so I asked her about it. I mean, I know I can do glamours so that I look different (I used to wear a human one when I first came to Caledon and I did used to be bright pink). I suppose the wings should have given it away – its not like you humans have wings is it? Anyway, she’s like me, sort of, not from here but visiting. Like Oolon. And as for Oolon, well, he’s Oolon. I’ve seen him use disguises too, but he insists its science and not magic. I’m not entirely convinced they’re all that different, to be perfectly honest, just science has bigger words. Although pixies do tend to break science……

It was about this time that I noticed a person standing up high on a roof, so I thought I’d go and be friendly. After all, we are supposed to be spreading civilization to the masses. Imagine my horror when I discovered that it was none other than the owner of this place – Mr Baldwin! I told him that he had a very scary island and he said thank you, calm as you like, thank you. I was getting a little bit nervous, when Oolon and Terry arrived (that’ll teach me to be brave), Oolon armed to the teeth in case I needed rescuing. But Mr Baldwin merely made his apologies and left in a swirl of white light.

Somewhat dumbfounded by this encounter Oolon took the executive decision that we should attempt to leave. The Cabinet was where we left her and never have I been so glad to see her. As soon as we got in, I put the kettle on for a nice cuppa. I thought we all could do with one to restore our frayed nerves. Oolon busied himself so that we could leave, but ETD started making the bad noises and then the Cloister Bell started (that’s what he calls it – sounds more like a cowbell of doom to me). Oolon thought it must be some sort of invisible power holding us to the island, stopping us from escaping.

I put my cup down on the console so that I could grab on to something (did I mention it usually crashes when it makes those noises?) and accidentally knocked it over. I thought Oolon would be annoyed, but apparently the old girl likes a nice cup of tea just like the rest of us and it did the trick! We managed to break away from the Island of Nightmares, and were flung back to Mayfair.

(And I managed to get a dance with Oolon; he’s a very good dancer you know and its not like he can tread on my toes, seeing as they’re three feet off the floor when I dance).

I think that’s everything. We shall be popping out again at some point (hopefully to where we should have gone this time), so I shall let you know how it goes. Don’t tell Alfonso too much about the perilous bits, will you? He only worries.

Your faithful colonist,

Fuschia Begonia

PS: I was so worried about our dear Bora Bora Isles that I cheated and used Pixie magic to go and hunt for it. It's still there!! It would appear that Mr Baldwin likes to collect names as well as objects.......

The White City

The coastline beyond the “Beetle and Bull”, the name I coined for the strange prankster bar I had just visited, broke up into a jumbled landscape of buildings and other objects; some seemingly put together with some plan, others almost just thrown onto the ground. Looking inland revealed a similar confusion of styles and shapes. It was almost as if the further I got from the relative familiarity of the colony and Penan, the more outlandish and unusual the buildings were becoming. Once more I passed a few buildings surrounded by their electrical red bands, making sure that any visitors knew they would not be welcome. The hour was drawing late and I decided I had to start looking for a landing spot for the evening.

Almost on cue, a large white edifice emerged from the gloom: A beautiful white city.

I circled once overhead looking for signs of it's inhabitants, but there was none. In the same way that the architecture became more outlandish as Penan shrank away behind me, the population of the grid seemed to decrease. Despite all the talk we had heard in Penan about the overpopulation of the mainland, this stretch of coastland appears almost deserted. I had only seen three people in my entire trip so far and I could not be entirely certain that two of those even existed.

Landing on the large flat area on the waterfront seemed the most sensible choice and the balloon drifted in like a dream, the light of the burner flaring yellow light across the pristine white walls of the city as I bumped to a halt.

The city was deserted and unusually, beautifully eerie. Fires burned and a boat creaked on the river below, but there were no signs of life. It looked almost like a story book city and one could almost imagine that the denizens had just stepped out for a moment. There had obviously been people here at one point, as rounding a corner I found myself in a shop surrounded by all manner of items. Some I am afraid I cannot describe for fear that this report may fall into the hands of the young or impressionable, but others like the walls of building materials were incredible. Seeing these brought to mind the wonderful panelling that Mr Whittlesea sells and I thought how much he would enjoy a visit here.


In another part of the city I found a boutique that sold the most wonderful bags and boxes, including an item called an “Explorer’s Lunch Box”. Purchasing one, I was only slightly disappointed to find it did not contain any lunch but did contain a compass and a series of maps. In the morning I will have to look at these more closely and see if they contain any more information on the mainland or the safe passage to the north.

I was almost tempted to stay overnight, but the empty city was really beginning to give me a strange feeling of dread that I cannot fully put into words. I feared that should I stay here I, like its previous inhabitants, may vanish too.

I am about to take off to seek an alternate landing and camp site for the evening. However before I do, I am dispatching this message immediately to ensure the location of this city is communicated back to Caledon, as I am sure it is worthy of a more detailed study. According to my calculations the location is: Tofalar (111, 240, 27)

Bars, Bulls and Beetles

Fuschia,

Sorry to hear about your accident with the Steam Lift System. I'd forgotten I'd left it there. I'm pleased Oolon, Terry and Emilly are looking after you and I promise I'll be back to finish off the circus soon.

Love,

Alfonso

PS Here's my report to forward on to Caledon:

Having recovered the balloon through the cunning use of a combination of gardening implements and rope, I decided to check the shore ahead on foot. The balloon may be a convenient means of travel, but the basket can get rather cramped.

Clambering over a garden fence, I found myself in the mainland equivalent of a public house. Unlike the Anvil, however, this inn was open to the elements and the glass bar was filled with tiny fish of many colours. I rapped on the bar top for attention but no one came and there seemed to be no way to serve yourself or leave payment for any of the drinks.

Hiding my disappointment, I ventured through a doorway onto a walkway lined by grids, numbers and symbols. Part way along this walkway I found a winged young lady. I tried bidding her good afternoon, but her gaze stayed fixedly on one of the grids as strange symbols flashed by. I wasn’t sure if this was a communications device or perhaps a more advanced form of analytic engine, but it seemed to require all of her concentration.




Not wanting to interrupt her work, I moved on into another open area. This was filled with card tables, but was completely bereft of people. At the far end of this space stood what appeared to be a bull and a brightly painted sign. The bull on closer examination appeared to be mechanical, with the words “Ride Me” emblazoned on a board behind it.

Having tamed a steam elephant, I believed a mechanical bull would prove to be little trouble. As soon as I sat astride the device I discovered that I was wrong. It bucked and span about the room, colliding with furniture, scattering cards and throwing me to the ground. As I staggered to my feet, it returned to the sign to await it’s next victim. Perhaps “Do Not Ride Me” would be a more appropriate sign.

Alongside the bull a colourfully painted board proclaimed “The Beetles – The Yellow Submarine” (beetles was actually incorrectly spelled; I have corrected the spelling within this report) and pointed down into a mysterious hole in the ground. Could this be a submersible manned by tiny creatures? There was only one way to find out.



As I dropped into the vortex of whirling colour, I realised the sign may not have been entirely accurate. This underground tunnel was lined with glowing painted faces and both small and giant fish swam within it. Steeling myself against the disorientating effect, I staggered down the tunnel, reaching out to follow the walls with my hand, when out of the darkness loomed an octopus! It’s bulk blocked the tunnel and it’s tendrils flailed towards me.

I ducked to one side and drawing the Webley peppered the creature with shells. The octopus did not react; it’s limbs continued flapping and my bullets fell harmlessly from it’s hide to the floor. Another mechanical construct, perhaps? It did indeed look that way, although I could not get too close for fear of being caught a blow by one of the tentacles. After a few moments quiet observation, it appeared to be continually repeating the same set of motions over and over again. All that was required was a bit of timing and quick reflexes and I was soon passed the creature and into another chamber.


This chamber contained nothing but a large switch. I cautiously reloaded the pistol, not sure what to expect from this place that had obviously been built as some kind of strange joke. I pressed the button and was shot out of the tunnel and back into the open air amongst the card tables once more. Nowhere in the tunnel system had I seen signs of beetles or submarines.

The sky was beginning to darken and I decided it was probably for the best to head back to the balloon and push on along the coast. This visit had taught me a valuable lesson: Not to trust the signs on the mainland.

To the Brave Adventurer

Hello My Love!

I hope the butterfly found you safe and well and still all excited about this foray of yours. I never realised just how big the tent was until you weren't in it. Even those nice, stripy blankets (like the ones I gave you for trading with the natives) don't quite keep out the chills of an evening with you not here.

Now you mustn't panic when you see the daguerotypes - it's only a little pot and I can hobble about really well on it. And Oolon and Miss Lightfoot are looking after me for the next few days or until it's better. And I have a lovely cup of tea (and Oolon has given me chocolate to cheer me up). I thought that the music room would be best, then I won't get under his feet while he's busy repairing the old girl.

In fact, Oolon is going to take me out for jaunts in this contraption so that I can keep my end of the bargain up. He won't tell me where we're going, but it will be so much more exciting that way, don't you think?

Please be careful, won't you? I know you're big and strong, but sometimes you can be a big softy and I want you to promise to wrap up warm and don't drink the local water and only eat things that don't look like they'll eat you back.

And look what Oolon gave me to cheer me up as well as the chocolate. It's from when you broke the roof at the Anvil. I shall look at it every time I miss you, and it will make me smile. We're very lucky having friends like Oolon, aren't we?

Well, I shan't hinder your progress any further. You be careful, or else I shall have to deal with you when you get home. And I'll let you know how we're getting on exploring too, if you'd like.

All my love

Fuschia

From the Homestead

My Dearest Emilly,

It's a funy thing, married life. I still tend to think of myself as Miss Begonia, rather than Mrs Begonia-Avalanche. I mean, honestly, my name is now longer than I am!

Speaking of which, sometimes I could cheerfully strangle that husband of mine (if I could reach that high, of course). I know that he's being all terribly noble by going off on this jaunt on behalf of the Governor, but I do wish he'd finish what he starts before moving off onto his next little adventure. I might have the butterfly wings, but he's most definitely got the butterfly mind.

Is the circus finished? No. Alright, we have a camel and a lion and two elephants for people to ride (although after what happened to poor Miss Tombola, I'm not sure one of them will be let out of his box again in the very near future). Oh, and a giraffe and chickens. I'm a bit confused about chickens in a circus, but Alfonso seems rather pleased with them. And we have a couple of acts, but I'm not allowed to mention them before opening night.

Is the lift installed, so that all our lovely friends can actually reach the circus come opening night? No.

What has he left lying around in lieu of a lift, I hear you ask? A steam powered plank.

I'm not joking, Emilly, I'm really not. He's left a steam powered plank. Which I then promptly tripped over, because I didn't know it was there. And now my foot really hurts and I can't go exploring the lands around the colony like I promised him I would. I know I have wings, but they're not very good over long distances (and flying never was my strong suit).

And do you know how people are supposed to get down from elevated heights of the circus platform once the plank has shot them unceremoniously 400 yards into the wild blue yonder? Diving board or cannon. Not a word of a lie. You have to love his style; its utterly unique. Mind you, as you know, that cannon is a lot of fun.......

As you can see, our fellow Companion Miss Lightfoot greatly enjoys the thrill of the High Dive (and you can see my poorly foot, too)


I don't suppose that I could borrow Oolon and his contraption instead, could I? I'd be ever so grateful. I know its being temperemental at the moment, but perhaps we could just do short hops to interesting sounding places until my foot gets better and I can be the big adventurer on my own. I just don't want to let Alfonso down, because he was so excited about expanding our understanding of the mainland.

I look forward to hearing from you. Please tell Oolon that I promise not to touch any knob, whistle or bell, if you think that will help. And I'll be a good pixie.

Your faithful friend,

Fuschia

Suspended

Fuschia woke me this morning with quite a surprise. She had worked all night (while I slept) and had redecorated the balloon in a combination of Caledonian and Colony colours. I certainly won’t go un-noticed as I sail the skies of the Grid, now.



She made the astute suggestion that I should add a camera and my wax-cylinder device to the expedition equipment, so that I may be able to record the sights and sounds of the mainland, for all back in Caledon to see and hear. It will add extra weight, but I think it will be worth it.

As the sun edged it’s way into the cloudy skies, I bid Fuschia my farewells and cast off. The winds immediately caught and turned me north, my intended destination… I took this as a good omen. I found it difficult as I left, waving to Fuschia’s tiny figure as she slipped from my sight into the morning mists. I will miss her greatly…

But there was little time to dwell on such things…I had to keep an eye on the compass and the delicate heat venting system of the balloon that allowed me some control of not only elevation but direction.

Looking down I noticed that the large stone castle that had previously stood to our North and West had been replaced by a colourful garden of flowers. I was baffled as to how such a rapid transformation had occurred, until I felt the tug of the balloon envelope catching on something solid and, looking up, suddenly realised I was dragging along the underside of a stone structure. The castle itself had been lifted into the air. It is no wonder the local tribe is named the “Penan Highlanders”. Their skill at building above the ground with no visible means of support is astounding. I still remember the dismayed look I received from one of them, a Miss Drahcir Maidstone, when I set about building my airship tower and support balloons. “Why do it?” She asked. “The buildings will stay there, with or without anything to hold them up.” They hardly even seem to realise what a feat they perform every time they construct one of these buildings. Despite watching them closely and questioning them as to their building materials, I have no idea how they do it. It makes me wonder if the raw materials they use for construction in the local area are saturated with Cavorite or a related compound.



Freeing the balloon, I turned Eastwards, to slide along the coastline. The sights along this edge of the mainland remind me so much of Caledon. Here I see a wonderfully wood timbered house, there a glass observatory, beyond a beautiful cascade of waterfalls. My time here has really taught me that the mainlanders may have their own eccentricities, but are really not that much different to ourselves.


As I reached the limits of my previous explorations I saw it, the thing I had heard so much about in news from the other expeditions: Glowing red bands of writing painted in the sky. Although they hung silently, just looking at them brought to mind the hum and sizzle of the Tesla towers on a damp day. Inside the walls of this barrier stood a grand house. Whoever lived within obviously required privacy, and I did not wish to chance the balloon in an encounter with their hellish “No Entry” sign. I carefully edged around it and continued on…

Not much further down the coast I encountered my first real challenge – an effect I have labelled “Out of Body Boundary Suspension”. I believe it may be related to the “Border Quicksand” effect encountered by Mr Reymont. One moment you are happily gliding along in your balloon, the next you are floating in the air looking down on a strange ethereal landscape (or looking back at your previous location from some distance away) and then back in your balloon again, as if nothing had happened. I have experienced this several times while travelling along the coast.

During the latest occurrence the experience was so violent and surprising that I fell from the basket of my balloon into a private garden. The owners immediately came rushing over to see that I was uninjured. I explained what had happened and apologised for landing unannounced and scuffing up their beautiful lawn. They laughed, saying it happened all the time and not to worry about it. Before I had a chance to speak to them further, they suddenly vanished and I began to wonder if they had been there at all or if I had hit my head and imagined them.

As I stood in the middle of the garden I looked up at the balloon hovering 20 feet above my head and realised this whole adventure may not be quite as easy as it first seemed.

Then I went to look for a ladder….