#Rusty Bridge

[ghostacolytev2]

Rustic view

[bruhstation]

Any ideas for Skarloey Railway??

of course! I'm working on their designs (they're some of the most requested characters in the 1k followers poll haha) but I do know what they're like in casa tidmouth.... the skarloey railway people entertain (not outright encourage) thomas' ideas about the supernatural phenomena plaguing sodor like telling him stories of a train that fell off a bridge, the tale of godred, etc. and thomas with percy in tow would storm off to find said mysteries that they provide. they're the silent pushers of the plot that mainly hangs out in the background and watch as the truth behind the island of sodor slowly unfurl while their hands are mostly clean. however, a certain irish young man clad in green may say otherwise....

I did doodle rusty, sir handel, and peter sam! here they are.

the rest will follow suit sometime later. I've featured skarloey in my introduction comic from two years ago, and I still think his design is solid! just needs a bit of refining, I suppose.

[macrowitchphotography]

Passing over a rusty bridge taking pictures of another bridge 🤷

[houseboatisland]

I'm curious, have you any lore on The Old Iron Bridge?

Sorry for the wait answering; my mind’s been occupied with other cartoons hehe.

Uhh, let’s see.

This one “Duncan Gets Spooked” Audio Production from Sodor Island Forums (ick) interpreted the bridge to belong to some other impoverished, unnamed 2’ 3” gauge railway besides the Skarloey or Mid Sodor Railways, but apparently being not too far from the former. It then goes on to say that the reason the Skarloey engines are now on it is because it has been absorbed as an extension of their railway after it had laid closed for several years and never connected to the Skarloey. My headcanon basically aligns with that.

For a while, on this blog too, I flirted with the idea of the Skarloey and the Mid Sodor Railways briefly, and unsuccessfully, being a single company for a few years in the vain hope that it would help them survive their ongoing hardships. They would then split up, and the MSR close while the SR limped on. The railway The Old Iron Bridge used to belong to, would’ve been part of the connection between the two separate railways.

Now though, I’ve decided to revamp my headcanon: The SR and MSR never united. (They did think about it, though.) The railway that The Old Iron Bridge belonged to, (let’s call it “The Third Railway” for the sake of this post since I can’t properly name it right now) existed east of what became the SR’s Lakeside Station, and again, never connected with either the SR or MSR.

The Third Railway was built not long after the Skarloey Railway, in the 1870s, also to exploit minerals, (slate I guess, and maybe theirs would turn out practically worthless for selling,) and hopefully drum up tourism. The railway was more of a speculators’ toy than an actual railway with a purpose: it had very little going for it on its own, and its backers were betting everything on the SR buying them out once they got started up. The SR never did, and The Third Railway eked a miserable, hand-to-mouth existence, never profiting and usually not breaking even either.

The Third Railway of course wouldn’t have had many engines, because there wouldn’t be much work for them to do in the first place. I’m sure it wasn’t more than three. By the 1920s, one had already been sold or scrapped for funds, and the railway should’ve considered itself lucky to have lived this long. As with the Talyllyn Railway in real life, the surviving engines’ work would have been so undemanding that they would have existed for eternity with the minimum amount of care, quick patchup on basic engine designs and no excessive damage. Then, in the 1930s, The Third Railway decides it needs more money again, and sells/sells for scrap their second engine. Reeeeally playing with fire, now. Goose laying golden eggs, etc.

That leaves one engine: the engine later made infamous by Rusty’s story. He falls off The Bridge heading home one night, is never recovered, people claim to see his ghost, etc. His death is definitely the last straw for The Third Railway; they close immediately after they’ve collected their pittance of an insurance payout. The railway hadn’t had hope for its entire life, and they were lucky to have enough work for ONE engine at the time of his demise. (Why was he returning home at night if he barely had work to do in the day? I have to figure that out.)

Uhh. In terms of when the accident was, I’m gonna say it was immediately after the Second World War, (1946-48) and NOT during it, because then it instantly would have been eaten up for scrap metal, including The Old Iron Bridge. You’d think The Third Railway’s Company would have sold off the track and everything to pay off its debts, but I guess for one reason or another they were just never able to. That’s how the Skarloey engines can find it in one (crappy) piece when the events of “Duncan Gets Spooked” happen. My headcanon is that Season 5 basically was the Seventies, so at that time the SR is buying The Third Railway’s remnants and cleaning them up for expansion. Hence “clearing the railway of branches and overgrowth.” It wasn’t the Skarloey Railway that was all crummy and shrub-ridden in the episode: it was their new assets, the former Third Railway.

So, in my headcanon, the supernatural is real. Ghosts and crap. (It’s a show about choochoos with faces. Some kooky presence or non-mortal plain/dimension/whatever existing isn’t entirely off the table.)

Duncan definitely saw The Engine’s Ghost, and what workmen at night have seen him too from Rusty’s retelling. It’s a good time now to note that what happens in my headcanon doesn’t follow that what the show and books show is gospel, and some things may happen differently than what’s onscreen. So while the episode may show The Engine’s Ghost to merely have been fireflies, in my version of the episode it was deadass, on God and his Timberlands, the ghost. Duncan’s freakout was waaay worse too, (oh, and his crew, don’t forget them,) and the fireflies explanation was merely his way of coping with what he saw. He spent many a sleepless night rewriting his memory to be that it was fireflies, however stupid that was. (I’m not gonna go into detail but I’ll just say The Engine’s Ghost’s face was absolutely unmistakable with a bunch of flickering bugs. If you saw what Duncan saw, you’d see just how stupid his rationalization sounds. “Dude are you blind??? That was NOT bugs, yeesh😱💀” you’d say.)

I have little in the way of headcanon for The Engine himself set in stone, headcanon-wise. But I can say for certain he felt cheated by life, and that’s why his restless spirit still roams the place of his death. In my headcanon, The Engine’s Ghost must have heard Duncan calling Rusty’s story rubbish, and that’s why Duncan’s the only engine to ever, as I said, come face to horrific-gross-terrifying-ghost face with him. The Ghost was livid and thought Duncan had earned himself a one way ticket to Scare the Soot Out Of Youville for his insulting him. Duncan’s also the only engine to ever “face off” with him all this time later. This particular spooking seems to have sated The Ghost’s hunger for attention for several years, for he wasn’t seen again for at least a decade.

But The Ghost does start appearing again after that, just to keep his legacy going and, truth be told, he revels in the new attention his story has gotten since the comparably tame TV adaption. He’ll appear if he knows people are camping out to see him, or maybe during the day, become invisible and secretly be responsible for something non-maliciously being where it shouldn’t. (You have to pity the poor coach or truck that happens to be moved, though. What a freaky thing to live through and then just keep living with after the fact.) Lots of the campers have seen him making his usual “round” on his bridge, and as you can imagine try to record it, but I guess ghosts in this world never show up in photos or video the same way vampires don’t appear in reflections, and because ghosts are seen so rarely, that’s what helps along a majority of people into thinking ghosts aren’t “real” when they are.

The Skarloey Railway still runs the former Third Railway since buying it and reviving it. (It’s barely recognizable with the old thing. Much prettier.) Duncan, naturally, is banned from being scheduled to run on it for PTSD reasons. It just makes sense to do, if you’re a railway traffic coordinator.

[calypsolemon]

why did i have a dream last night where my tongue was like falling out of my mouth and then grew back rapidly and fell back out again. it wasn't clean either it was gruesome af and multiple times i just pulled it out like i was peeling dead skin off or osmething. my friends kept looking at me like what the fuck why is it doing that.

[ghostcat-deadbastard]

i love southern gothic music cause the people who make it either look like this or this

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 30 - Middle of Nowhere

They Should Have Left This Part of the Island Alone:

The railway line to the new quarry was making the older engines nervous. “I don’t like it,” muttered Duke as he went about his work. “That part of the island is meant to be left alone.”

Skarloey and Rheneas agreed with the old engine. “They’ll find the bridge,” Rheneas hissed at Skarloey. “We closed that line for a reason.” “I know, Rheneas,” Skarloey replied gravely. “But what can we do? If there’s profit to be made, those executives won’t listen to reason.” “What’s up there isn’t reasonable,” Rheneas retorted.

All three were on edge – and it only got worse when the surveyors found an old, creaky iron bridge. It spanned a wide gorge, crossing over a swamp below. Rusty went to help the gangers lay rails over the old structure – only to find that there were already rails! These rails were weather worn, bent out of shape by hot summer days and rusted by frigid winter nights.

“We’ll need to pull these rails up and relay them,” Mr Hugh said. “It’s odd,” Rusty replied. “I didn’t even know there was a bridge up here.” The little diesel began the long, tedious task of carefully removing the old rails and replacing them with fresh new ones. Somehow, the bridge itself had not suffered the same fate as the track. Instead, it stood silently over the gorge, perfectly frozen in time.

Rusty felt like the railway was intruding on something, purely by crossing over the gorge.

Still, they pressed on.

They found the trackbed of an old railway on the other side of the bridge, one which twisted and turned carefully through the mountains until it reached an abandoned quarry, sat perfectly at the base of the mountain they wished to mine.

“It’s an abandoned quarry,” Rusty told the other engines. “And it’s in the middle of nowhere! I don’t get it. Who’d even put a quarry there, let alone abandon it and leave a giant iron bridge behind!”

Skarloey and Rheneas shared a worried look, while Duke went eerily quiet.

“I thought your railway blew up that bridge,” hissed Duke the next morning, once the other engines had left for work. “We thought so too,” Skarloey replied, eyes wide. “We planted the dynamite and everything! You don’t think…” “I wouldn’t want to risk it,” Duke replied solemnly.

Much of the line was overgrown, and soon the foreman began asking for trains to run up to the construction site to take away all the trimmed branches and leaves from the trees. Rusty and Peter Sam set to work on the trains, hauling long lines of trucks up and down the extension.

“You be careful on that old line,” Duke warned Peter Sam. “That is a part of the island few venture to for good reason.” Peter Sam was confused. “Granpuff, what are you talking about? I know it’s in the middle of nowhere, but it’s nothing to be afraid of!” “Just listen to me,” Duke hissed, his eyes ablaze. Peter Sam gulped. “That part of the island is not to be trifled with! You take care, for the love of Saint Machan, Peter Sam!” Peter Sam shakily agreed to the old engine’s frightening warning.

Construction continued apace. The new quarry was further up the mountain than the abandoned one, and a line was constructed through a narrow gorge below the old quarry to reach it, circling around behind the mountain towards the site.\

That was where they found it.

It was a boulder, rounded by wind and rain buffeting it on all sides. It stood high up on a ledge, completely cut off from the rest of the world by the rough terrain. “What a sight…” gasped Rusty when the little diesel first saw it. “It’s certainly something,” agreed Duncan. “Don’t see stuff like that every day.”

The old quarry was reopened the next week. It still had veins of slate it reached, some nestled deep in the mountainside. Trucks began grumbling their way up the once-disused incline again, bringing load after load of slate and stone down the extension, across the old iron bridge and then down the valley.

“I don’t like this,” Duke remarked, watching nervously as Sir Handel shunted his trucks into place for Henry to load onto his goods train. “You don’t like most things, Granpuff,” snorted Sir Handel. Duke just scowled and steamed away to collect his next passenger train.

But Henry noticed that Duke kept gazing up the valley towards where he’d been told the quarry was, a fearful look in his eye. As the big green engine heaved his heavy goods train out of the siding, there was a sudden clunk from beneath him. “What was that?” he asked, throwing on the brakes – but it was too late. One of the slate trucks toppled right over, smashing into wooden splinters as its brakes jammed in the points. Henry stared back at his trucks in shock. Sir Handel was also stunned. Neither of them noticed Duke watching the entire spectacle with wide eyes.

“It’s already beginning to make an appearance,” hissed Duke to the other old engines that night. “Did you see what happened to Henry? That was a slate truck that derailed.” “It spilled across the entire mainline,” Skarloey said. “There was no way we couldn’t see that mess!” “So what do we do?” Rheneas asked. “A better question is what can we do?” Skarloey groaned. Neither of the other engines had an answer.

Winter set in not long after that, bringing with it fogs that curled up from the rivers and lakes along the Skarloey Railway and blanketed everything in thick, impenetrable grey. The snow followed close behind, a blizzard of white slush falling all through the night.

When the snow came, it made work difficult. Industry ground to a halt – but they still mined the slate from the lower quarry to keep the engines busy. Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke hated it when they had to go up the extension. The old iron bridge swayed and groaned under them, as though threatening to collapse at any second.

The workmen, however, didn’t notice. They were busy at the quarry, where they’d shovelled as much snow as possible into a giant bank behind the buffers. They believed the snowbank would stop runaway trucks from skidding all the way down into the ravine the line used.

One especially frosty morning, Skarloey was sent up to the quarry with some coal trucks and empty slate wagons. “Be careful,” warned Rheneas. “We may have passed that time of year, but I wouldn’t be too sure that it’s not still out there.” Skarloey agreed and was extra vigilant as he made his way up towards the quarry. The original trackbed that the railway had once used had become impassable over the years, so instead, trains ran through the ravine before circling back to enter the old quarry. Skarloey didn’t like this route.

“The old route may hold bad memories,” he murmured to himself. “But at least it was safer.” His driver didn’t hear him. They neared a large snowy overhang which dangled dangerously over the line.

“That’s got to be the snowbank the workmen have been making,” hummed Skarloey’s driver. “It doesn’t look safe,” Skarloey said. “I’d rather we check to see if it will collapse.”

The guard strode up, overhearing Skarloey’s suggestion. He gazed up too. “The old engine’s right,” he said. “The sound of Skarloey’s engine could trigger an avalanche. I’d rather we run over a detonator and check.” Skarloey and his driver agreed.

Up at the quarry, there was a problem. The overnight frost had buckled part of the winch mechanism that hauled trucks up and down the incline. The winch kept catching, slowing production down. A long line of loaded trucks was placed on one side of the incline, and a line of empty trucks on the other. As the loaded trucks started to come down the incline, the empty trucks derailed. The winch groaned.

“Break it! Snap it!” shouted the trucks. And they did.

The trucks came hurtling down the incline, thundering along, swaying violently. “The snowbank and buffers will stop them!” called a workman. But he was wrong.

Down below, Skarloey’s driver had just finished setting the detonator, and was walking back to Skarloey’s cab when they heard the rumble of a runaway train. “Back driver, quick!” shouted Skarloey. His driver sprinted to his cab, and threw open the regulator. Skarloey jolted back as the trucks plunged through the snowbank and into the ravine.

The old engine looked up in horror. “Avanlanche!” he cried. The trucks tumbled into the ravine, bringing the snowbank with them. Tonnes of snow and slate and wood and iron roared down the ravine walls, smashing into the rails where Skarloey had just stood. Shards of wood splintered off and rocketed past the old engine, missing him by inches.

“I knew it,” Skarloey whimpered. His driver was stunned. The usually unstoppable old engine had been reduced to near tears. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here. It’s angry now. We need to leave. We need to leave it all to nature.” “Are you alright, Skarloey? You’re talking jibberish.” “I am not!” snapped Skarloey. “We need to go. Now. We’re not welcome here.”

Skarloey’s driver was so stunned by his old engine’s outburst, that he complied. Skarloey hurried back down the line, not stopping for even a moment until he was safely on comfortably familiar rails.

Duke and Rheneas met him at the middle station. “Are you alright?” asked Rheneas. “You’re meant to be up at the quarry.” “There was an avalanche,” Skarloey hissed. “The trucks… they broke away from the winch… they plunged into the ravine… it’s angry.” Rheneas and Duke shared a worried look.

It took a long time to clear away the wreckage from the avalanche. The frigid temperatures had hardened much of the snow into ice, and it wasn’t until spring that they were able to safely run trains back through the ravine.

The melting snow also cause a surge in torrents that threatened to wash away the track. These were particularly bad around the new quarry construction site. The boulder stood overhead, silent as it gazed down at the construction disturbing its peace. Rusty mentioned it to the other engines. “I don’t want to go back up there,” Skarloey muttered to Rheneas and Duke. “One of you go confirm it.” “I’ll go,” said Duke. “You two were here last time – it might not target me as a newcomer.” “It targeted you when your line strayed too close,” reminded Rheneas bitterly. “I’m amazed it only took one of those Culdee Fell engines as a sacrifice.”

The news came that James had derailed near the Culdee Fell Railway after looking after the line while the electric engines were unable to work. When the red engine was shunted into the siding to await his turn in the works, he looked very shaken up indeed.

“I saw something up there,” he declared loudly to everyone who listen. “There’s something wrong up at Peel Godred!” “Shut up!” snarled Rheneas. “We know. But if you tell anyone, it will come after you.” James went silent in horror. “It’s… but Godred…” “Godred?” Duke thundered over, eyes wide in surprise. “You saw him? I must go up to that quarry at once.”

“I’ll get the story from James,” Rheneas promised. “You go take a look.” Duke raced away, swapping duties with Peter Sam to get up to the new quarry construction site.

And when he turned that final corner, his boiler ran cold. “It’s really there,” he gasped in amazement. The old engine shunted his trucks into their proper siding, muttering an ancient Sudrian prayer under his breath. His first driver had taught him the prayer long, long ago – and he’d taught Culdee.

As he turned on the triangle to head back down the line, an object fell from the ledge, smashing down on the trackside. Duke jumped. “What was that?” exclaimed Rusty, hurrying over. “It’s… it’s… a cylinder…” Duke edged closer to the rusted metal lump. It was rusted beyond all comprehension… and yet, it was too familiar for Duke’s liking. “I’ll take it with me,” he said eventually. “I’d suggest you send some men to secure the ledge.” Rusty and the foreman agreed, and Duke hurried away with the rusted cylinder.

“It’s Godred’s!” he exclaimed to Skarloey and Rheneas that night. “His cylinder block was at that site! It cannot be a coincidence.”

“It’s a warning,” a voice said. The three jumped and looked all around – but there was no one there.

The seasons changed. When summer came, the new quarry finally opened. Long trains of high-quality rock came pouring down from the mountain, filling up truck after truck at the transfer sidings. Rusty met Bear and Donald at the transfer sidings.

“Where’s all this rock coming from?” asked Bear. “The new quarry,” replied Rusty. “This mountain rock is good for many things, although it’s dangerous up there.” “How come?” asked Donald. “Because of a big boulder,” Rusty said grimly. “It stands on a cliff high above the line, and it feels like it’s watching me.”

“Dinnae be sae dunderheided!” snorted Donald. “Boulders dinnae hae een!” Rusty just sighed and rumbled away, not spotting a very concerned Skarloey in the sheds.

The new quarry soon began to leave its mark. Profit came streaming in, encouraging the quarry owners to further exploit the lands around their initial setup. This brought them ever closer to the cliff where the boulder stood.

“It’s not right,” hissed Duke. “There’s a reason it was left as the middle of nowhere.” “Pah!” snorted Duncan. “It’s just the base o’ Culdee Fell! Peel Godred’s on the other side!” “Peel Godred is not on Culdee Fell,” Skarloey said sternly. “And it’s not technically the base of Culdee Fell, but one of the smaller mountains that feeds into the Fell itself.” Duncan rolled his eyes and huffed away.

The weather changed again, and something strange began to happen along the old line. The trees and bushes that the workers had cut right back the year before had grown far more rapidly than anyone could anticipate, beginning to choke the line with dead leaves and debris. After some debris hid a rock that derailed Sir Handel, the Thin Controller got the workers to begin pruning along the line.

Peter Sam and Rusty often worked together, the two top-and-tailing the trains up and down the extension. One day, Rusty helped Peter Sam to a water column at the top of the ravine, and once there, honked goodbye to let Peter Sam know that the little diesel had headed up to the old quarry. Peter Sam needed this drink, but the trucks grew impatient. “Let’s break away,” they giggled. Their loads were heavy, so when they tugged at a coupling, it snapped.

The trucks rocketed back down the line, speeding through the ravine. “After them!” shouted Peter Sam. The little green engine gave chase, but it was already too late. A sign read ‘Slow! Steep bend and Ravine ahead’ – but the silly trucks never saw it. They thundered onto the old iron bridge and toppled over, crashing down into the ravine and plunging into the swamps below. Peter Sam puffed out onto the bridge and stared down at the scene of the disaster.

“This was our fault,” sighed the driver. “We didn’t secure them properly.” “But it makes no sense…” murmured Peter Sam. “Those trucks were new…”

But that excuse didn’t float well with the Thin Controller. “New or not, those trucks shouldn’t have been given the opportunity to run away. You will shunt trucks here in the yards until I can trust you again.”

Duncan was delighted with Peter Sam’s dilemma. “Fancy no securing yer trucks,” he sniggered. “They’ll come back to haunt you and yer special funnel. OoooOooo!”

Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke all winced together. Rusty noticed. “Well,” the little diesel said. “The workers up on that extension say there’s a real ghost – I bet you’d be frightened of it.” “Pah! Ghosts, things that go bump in the night; rubbish! That’s just a load of nonsense they’re telling you to spook you, Rusty. But tell it anyway, I’d like a laugh.” Skarloey went to say something, but Duke hushed him. “He’ll learn one way or another,” murmured the old engine.

“Alright, I’ll tell you a story that’ll make your funnel quiver,” smirked Rusty. “A long time ago, a little engine was returning home. It was a misty moonlit night. As the little engine crossed the old iron bridge, he suddenly lost control and plunged over the side and into the swamps below. He was never found again – but the workmen say that when the moon is full they have seen the engine trying to make it home… but he never reaches the other side.”

Rheneas, Skarloey and Duke all slunk out of the sheds, faces pale.

“So what do you think of that, Duncan?” asked Rusty. “Pah! Nonsense,” replied Duncan, and he puffed back into his berth to sleep.

The gruff engine was plagued with nightmares all throughout his restless sleep, but he didn’t tell anyone. Duke, Rheneas and Skarloey kept a close eye on him – and Duncan kept a close eye on the moon. It was only two days until it was a full moon. To distract himself, Duncan began to pull pranks on Peter Sam, pretending to be a ghost to spook the poor engine.

“Never you mind, Peter Sam,” sighed his driver. “He’d be frightened if he really saw a ghost.” This gave Peter Sam an idea, which he told his crew. His crew spoke with Duncan’s, and they agreed.

“The full moon is tonight,” they said. “We’ll do it at once.”

Duncan had to take coal trucks up to the quarries and bring loaded stone and slate trucks back. Every trip involved crossing the old iron bridge. “Haunted bridge; Pah!” snorted Duncan. “It’s as tame as a pet rabbit!” But all the same, he kept thinking about Rusty’s story. If he’d been less in his smokebox, he might have noticed more about his surroundings.

The boulder had shifted.

On his last train of the evening, Duncan had to bring a special new piece of machinery up to the new quarry. It was called Thumper, and it was built to make collecting the rock even easier. But it took a long time to unload Thumper, and even longer to assemble the trucks they needed to take back. As dusk fell, Duncan spoke up.

“If we don’t go now, Skarloey’ll take my favourite place in the sheds,” Duncan complained. He hadn’t noticed the fact that Skarloey had stopped stealing that spot months ago, spending his time close to Duke and Rheneas instead. “We can’t go until all our trucks are filled,” his driver replied. Duncan looked nervous, his eyes darting from side to side.

It was dark by the time they set off. The moon was full, and the mists were rising up around the old iron bridge, curling around its beams like tendrils trying to drag it down into the swamps. Duncan whistled, and the sound echoed all around, bouncing off the walls of the gorge and distorting into something unnatural.

Duncan tentatively crawled onto the bridge. He made it halfway before suddenly stopping. Ahead, he saw flickering lights. To Duncan, they looked like an engine. His driver didn’t see the lights.

A rock plunged into the swamps below, startling both Duncan and his driver. “It’s the ghost!” wailed Duncan. “Take me back! Take me back! Please!” Duncan’s driver was spooked too – he opened the reverser, and Duncan hurried for the safety of the quarry sheds.

Duke came to find him the next morning. “Are you alright youngster?” he asked, eyes not on Duncan. “No,” admitted Duncan. “I saw something. It was there, on the bridge!” Duke looked grim, still gazing up at the cliff where the boulder stood. “I see. Come along then, let’s get you back to the sheds while there’s plenty of daylight.” Duncan was all too happy to have another engine with him as he crossed the old iron bridge. A large shard of rock stuck out at a jagged angle, not twenty feet from the bridge.

“It looks like it came away from the cliff last night,” Duke’s driver said. “Must’ve caused a right ruckus!” “It did,” laughed Duncan’s driver. “Spooked me!” “But I saw something,” murmured Duncan. Duke didn’t reply – not until they were in the privacy of the sheds.

“So you saw a ghost then,” Duke said. It wasn’t a question. “I did,” Duncan replied. Skarloey, in the next berth over, looked over. “So, it’s really back,” he muttered. “Indeed,” Duke sighed. “I looked this morning – that boulder has definitely moved overnight.” Duncan gulped. “What? The boulder? Is it a ghost too?”

Neither Duke nor Skarloey answered for a long moment.

“No one’s quite sure,” Skarloey eventually said. “But whatever it is, it’s been around since long before the railway.” “But the engine!” “Wasn’t the first to fall off the old iron bridge,” Rheneas announced grimly, steaming in. “There was also a horse and its handler. But that engine’s demise is what closed the bridge originally. We put dynamite on that bridge… and we thought we’d blown it up!”

“So what is it?” demanded Duncan. “No one’s quite sure,” repeated Skarloey. “It was written about by King Godred himself, not to mention Saint Machan and the Ancient Sudrians. It stands at the top of the Keeill-y-Deighan valley, opposing the Standing Stones.” “The ancient Sudrians stayed well away from that region for a reason,” added Duke gravely. “It’s in the middle of nowhere – and we’re disturbing it with this new quarry.”

Duncan felt ill.

Something was up at the new quarry, and he’d just delivered a piece of machinery to increase production.

Rusty also felt like something wasn’t right with the boulder. It seemed as though it had shifted up on the cliff from one end of the quarry to the other. But that was impossible.

Instead, Rusty focused on the new piece of equipment. Thumper was very useful. He worked extremely hard, pounding away at the cliff face and digging up tonnes of rock for the little engines to take away. Sir Handel, Peter Sam and Rusty were kept hard at work – but no one bothered to check on the boulder.

Loose gravel fell to the lineside.

It rained the next day, and the workmen were unable to work. Rusty still went up to the new quarry, to check for any signs of damage. Rusty gazed up, and shivered. Above stood Boulder.

Suddenly, a large slab of rock smashed down onto the rails. Rusty was shocked. The driver was concerned too. “We’d best leave until the weather’s better,” he said. “The rain’s loosened some of the rock.” “I think it’s Boulder,” murmured Rusty. “I think it wants us to go away.” As Rusty left, the little diesel didn’t notice a dark face cross the Boulder, before vanishing into the rain.

The quarry grew even busier once the rain cleared. Even more machines came to help – and that’s when Rusty looked up.

“Boulder’s moving,” Rusty gasped. “Don’t be daft!” snorted Rusty’s driver. “It can’t!”

But it did. It fell from it’s high perch, smashing down into the quarry below. It bulldozed several buildings instantly, then began to roll downhill.

“It’s rolling along our line!” exclaimed Rusty. “Quick!” The little diesel dashed backwards, honking their horn and shouting in terror. “Go! Go! Run!”

The boulder picked up speed, growing ever faster. Rusty swore that there was a face on the boulder – the little diesel went even faster, tears springing to their eyes.

“I don’t want to be squashed!” Rusty wailed. The little diesel rushed down the extension, wheels screaming in protest as Rusty rounded each bend as fast as their driver would dare. The boulder began to gain on the poor little diesel, but still Rusty kept going.

Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke sat on the other side of the old iron bridge. They were just about to cross when they heard the thunderous roar of the boulder falling from its perch.

“No…” gasped Skarloey. “Rusty!” exclaimed Rheneas in horror. The little engine went to move forwards, only to be stopped by Duke. “We can’t go over,” shouted Duke. “It all downhill from that quarry – the boulder will come straight for us!”

Rusty was driving flat out, racing through the ravine. The boulder was slowed by the narrow walls, but it wasn’t stopping. Still, Rusty used these precious moment to their advantage, drawing ahead and refusing to slow in the slightest, even as their engine began to cough and splutter.

“Help!” shouted Rusty. They sped round the next bend, and the little diesel’s driver spotted the old iron bridge.

“If we can cross that, we’ll be safe!” The little diesel managed to find just a little more speed. Rusty clattered onto the bridge, going as fast as their wheels could carry them. The boulder was close behind.

Rusty sped off the bridge; the boulder roared onto the bridge. The old iron bridge groaned under the weight, rivets snapping off in all directions before the superstructure gave way and the entire thing, boulder included, went smashing down into the gorge.

The last thing the engines saw was a terrifying, scowling face carved into the side of the boulder.

And then, silence.

The engines left the gorge as quickly as they could. As they did, an explosion rocked the mountainside! “The quarry!” exclaimed Rusty, horrified. “The boulder must’ve…” The little diesel trailed off, unable to finish that horrific thought.

When the Thin Controller surveyed the damage, he decided to close the extension. Down in the gorge, the boulder was half submerged. “We should have left this part of the island… alone.”

They ripped up the rails the very next day, and left the trackbed to be engulfed by nature. Some places are left well enough alone because they must be – but Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke know that one day, people will return to the dark side of Culdee Fell, in search of the wealth it hides. And when that day comes, they too will know of it.

And it doesn’t accept trespassers.

Back to Master Post

James and Godred

Rheneas and the Old Bridge

[brendambois]

Sodorgust day 29: fire

Rusty and Duncan struggled up the old wooden bridge with their long train, more fire was eating its way up the support beams, the smoke slithering up between the decaying wood, and the fire on the trees in the hills and mountains were taking them from above. The two engines slipped and quarter-slipped up the grade as the sound of wooden beams breaking and falling began to increase; it caused even the coaches behind them to silently start crying along with the parents and children. "Please, Lady,I'm begging you" Rusty began, "we've already lost so much and-" he was cut off by a Scottish accent, "We can't lose what little we have left. All the families, all the trees and animals and trucks and workmen and vehicles who couldn't escape the flames, so please, please, allow me to save those I can from the fate of those less fortunate", and Duncan blew his whistle, Rusty his horn, and they sent their prayer into the heavens. Nothing happened, and for a second all lost hope, until Duncan's steam pressure shot upward, and with a mighty blast of his whistle, he surged forward blasting steam in all directions, and as he did the smoke divided like a giant snowplow was run through it, and the engines marched their train across the bridge before the smoke closed behind them and the bridge was engulfed in tall, white-hot flames, and the duo, guided by Lady and the spirits of the narrow gauge down to Crovan's Gate.

[u-friend-or-ufo]

The Bay City Rollers should have done one of those terrifying PSA back in the 70's...Boy oh boy they are sure...something...

[miirshroom-art]

Balduinbrücke - Koblenz

Watercolour value study with 4 colour limited palette - 11.25" x 6.25"

[saintlioncourt]

you're telling me that 60 year old man was out there doing fake interviews for his fake f1 movie??? I would kill myself from cringe and embarassment

[queercatboyrights]

my car straight up just died on me. while I was on my way to work. I am mentally in shambles

[alteredstatesstuff]

autumn surprise

[podcastsexyman-battleroyale]

Art Request

Hi folks! We’ve got a large number of participants for our little tourney! Since these are podcast people, most of them don’t have official/free to use art. So, especially since we have multiple characters from the same podcasts, I need your help!

Below is a list of characters. If their name is not crossed out, that means I need art! Please dm me your art (and how you would like to be properly credited if it differs from your blog handle). Do not send art that isn’t yours unless you have explicit permission from the artist.

Characters are ordered by show (shows listed alphabetically) and not by bracket listing. Brackets will be revealed after preliminary rounds.

Alice (Alice isn’t Dead)

Rat/Jacob (Archive 81)

Aava Arek (Campaign Podcast)

Amos Faraday (In Transit)

Kayne (Malevolent)

Kellin

Hastur/The King in Yellow

Collins/The Butcher

Wallace “Andrew” Larson

Isaac Prince (Mayfair Watcher’s Society)

Queen of the Summer Sun (Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality)

Bryony Halbech (Red Valley)

Barret Racket (Rusty Quill Gaming)

John Hunger (TAZ)

Kravitz

Roger Kaplan (The Bridge)

Mark Bryant (The Bright Sessions)

Nyathi (The Secret of St Kilda)

Sid Wright (The Silt Verses)

Katabasian/mason

Elias Bouchard (TMA)

Oliver Banks

Gerard “Gerry” Keay

Michael Shelley/The Distortion

Tim Stoker

Mike Crew

Mikaele Salesa

Jordan Kennedy

Peter Lukas

Sasha Wire (TPP)

Ty (Woe.Begone)

Marcus Cutter (Wolf 359)

Eric Chapman (Wooden Overcoats)

Kevin (WTNV)

Earl Harlan

Kasper Rodes

[op3ra]

lore bit: facial markings

(rusty, dinah, wrench, caboose)

general lore about markings in my au is under the cut. feel free to shoot me an ask if there are other characters whose markings you'd like to see :>

All trains have colorful designs on their faces. Known mostly as facial markings and sometimes facial patterns, they’re permanent parts of a train's livery (so, closer to a tattoo than to face paint). They’re intended to be unique to each train; there’s nothing exactly keeping track to make sure every train has something completely brand new, but there’s generally an effort to come up with something distinctive.

All trains are given basic markings when they’re manufactured (typically around the eyes), but most trains gradually add on to them to create a truly individualized design. Although patterns are mainly centered on the face, lots of trains have them on their necks and even down their bodies--for example, Dinah has a chevron across her chest, and my OC Screw has them along her left leg. Typically, patterns are 1-2 colors, although it's not a strict requirement.

Trains are generally very proud of their liveries and even when trains repaint the rest of their liveries (to either match a company contract, or just to switch things up), their markings tend to stay the same or similar.

When originally manufactured by humans, trains were given blank, vaguely human-colored faces; after they separated from humans and took over their own manufacturing, trains developed their markings, desperate for something to give themselves individuality and separate themselves from humans.

Rusty is very self-conscious about his rust overtaking the majority of his markings; after he wins it’s a little overwhelming to finally repaint them after so many years of them being missing :,,,,)

[onlyhappyvibes]