#Third Loch from the Sun

[sffinsiders]

Review: Third Loch From the Sun A Scottish Sci-Fi Adventure by Rex Burke — SFF Insiders

[blairstales]

The Cailleach | Scottish Folklore

The story of the Cailleach can change drastically depending on what area of Scotland you are in, making her a hard figure to pin down as one thing or another.

In some stories, she transforms each year at Tobar na Cailleach(well of the Cailleach) from an old woman into youth, and the change of seasons depict her cycle from youth into elderly age.

In other stories, the Cailleach is more of a villainous figure, that either stubbornly fights back the forces of spring(and is ultimately overcome by the united forces of the sun, dew, and rain), or the Cailleach holds spring prisoner in the form of a beautiful young woman named Bride. Bride is eventually rescued by a young man named Aengus, and their union brings forth spring.

To again bring on winter, she washes her great plaid in the whirlpool of Corryvreckan, a spectacle that heralds the onset of winter storms.

The Corryvreckan Whirlpool

Thanks to her winter and storm association, it is perhaps no surprise mountains named after her, such as Beinn na Cailleach, often become engulfed in storm-clouds during the winter months.

However, there are also stories that reflect a side of the Cailleach that goes beyond her association with winter.

“-… it is undoubted that the Cailleach is the guardian spirit of a number of animals. ‘The deer have the first claim on her. They are her cattle; she herds and milks them and often gives them protection against the hunter. Swine, wild goats, wild cattle and wolves were also her creatures. In another aspect she was a fishing goddess. “ A Encyclopedia of Fairies by Katharine Briggs (1976)

Sometimes, she is a guardian of sacred wells, demonstrated in Alasdair Alpin MacGregor’s “The Peat-Fire Flame” which recounts a tale where the Cailleach’s failure to cover a spring with a stone results in a catastrophic flood and the forming of Loch Awe.

“But one day, weary with hunting the corries of Cruachan, she fell asleep on the sunny hillside. Not until the third morning did she awaken; and by that time her heritage lay beneath the waters of the loch that since then has been known as Loch Awe.” The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)

Othertimes, she is a source of healing, such as at the ancient shrine of Tigh nam Bodach(sometimes also called Tigh na Cailleach), which is associated with the Cailleach, the Bodach (Old Man), and their daughter Nighean(who is not always mentioned).

“The Tigh na Cailleach near Glen Lyon in Perthshire, Scotland”

At the shrine, there are stones known as healing stones, and they are carefully taken care of. Historically, someone had to put them inside on the first day of November, and take them out on the first day of May. As well as that, they were to be give a fresh bed of straw on winter festival days.

“In what is believed to be the oldest uninterrupted pre-Christian ritual in Britain, the water-worn figures from the River Lyon are taken out of their house every May and faced down the glen, and returned every November. The ritual marked the two great Celtic fire festivals of Beltane(Summer) and Samhain (Winter)and the annual migration of Highland cattle on and off the hills.” Highland Perthshire

So who is the Cailleach? She is the changing of seasons, sometimes a protector of sacred wells and animals, and can even be a source of healing. Basically, she is likely the most complicated subject to study from Scottish Folklore.

Further Reading:

The Folk-lore Journal, Volume 6; Volume 21: The Folk-Lore Of Sutherlandshire  by Miss Dempster

The Celtic Review, Vol 5 (1905): Highland Mythology by E. C. Watson

The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)

A Encyclopedia of Fairies by Katharine Briggs (1976)

The Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man by A. W. Moore[1891]

Carmina Gadelica, Volume 2, by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900]

Highland Perthshire (website with a blog post)

Historic Audio Recordings

Healing stones at Taigh na Caillich (Track: ID SA1964.72.A24, Date: 1559) “There were healing stones in a house in Gleann na Caillich; the shepherds looked after them. Talk about shepherds in the glen.”

Anecdote regarding Beinn na Caillich and Gleann na Caillich. (Track ID: SA1964.017.B6, Date: 1964) “An old woman and an old man lived in a house in Gleann na Caillich. The shepherd had to put them inside on the first day of November, and take them out on the first day of May. He also had to thatch their house each year.”

Information about St Fillan’s healing stones at Killin. (Track ID: SA1964.71.A5, Date: 1964) There were stones, known as the bodach and cailleach, in a house in Gleann na Caillich in Glen Lyon. Discussion about St Fillan’s stones at Killin. Different stones healed different diseases. The miller was in charge of them. They had to be freshly bedded with straw thrown up by the river on Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve. This is still done [in 1964]. The person in charge of St Fillan’s relics was known as An Deòrach and he had a croft in a place called Croit an Deòir.

[rosie-b]

find the words game

I've been tagged in a new writers' game!! For this one, we're given specific words to find in our wips/fics, share the section they appear in, and pass it on!

from @mostmagical we have:

brush (from an upcoming section of my BB fic, Centuries Overdue)

Alix wandered over to the kitchen, brushing past Alya and Marinette without a word. Oh, shit, was she mad at them? Was she going to use her magic to go back and record Marinette’s misbegotten mocha order and stream it to all of Paris, solidifying her shame forever??

Marinette wished she’d kept her glance through the deceptive café windows much shorter and left before the scary bunny had had the chance to jumpscare her.

crumble (from the same wip)

I have told myself that I ought to be relieved, as the other Mages are, that at last the Darkness is vanquished. For a time, I fooled myself into thinking that I was!

But as all lies ever must do, this one I told Myself crumbled, leaving more Pain in its wake than it had initially hidden.

light (also from Centuries Overdue! you guys are getting so many sneak peeks lol)

There is something wild growing in the Darkness; when I close my Eyes I can feel it growing. It is a most disturbing Feeling, and one I am not alone in noticing. The Mages of Tikki and Plagg have felt it also, and have noted its Growth. It cares not for the Moon, nor the Stars, nor the Sun, but its Presence continues to spread unchecked at all times. 

I fear if we do not find its cause ere the spring festivals’ start, it will prove too powerful to be Destroyed, and so I have made it my business to uncover its Secrets. This Darkening is surely a sign of a stronger, more sinister Magic, and I fear that there are things darker and still more guileful to come of it. I must make all Haste to prevent its growth, which is why I must journey to the edges of Light, to the place where my parents died…

and from @monpetitchattriste:

love (back to Centuries Overdue for this one)

There is talk of a Darkness in Venice. And again, a Darkness in the Dolomites, and in Scotland at the Loch Ness, and still more Talk about nearly every place I have visited in my years as a Mage and as a boy with my parents. Still no reported Darkness in the Harz, and none in Paris yet, and still it is clear that the Danger is not shrinking but burgeoning.

Time, like a Candle too well loved, is growing shorter, and soon it will run out entirely. I must make my Attack before it is too late.

years (also from Centuries Overdue :D)

There were perhaps twenty to thirty books on the shelf, with two-thirds of them being written by Adrien’s parents and the last third being written by Adrien himself. The time during which the journals were written spanned from the years just before the French Revolution to 1810, just before the end of the Napoleonic Wars. They all seemed to be travelogues detailing the Agrestes’ long journeys to various historical and legendary locations in Europe as they evaded the worst of the fighting, met different groups of people, and moved on to new adventures.

It all seemed normal enough until Marinette noticed a passage describing a magic ritual done under the full moon in striking detail. Even then, she assumed it was just some forgotten tradition, not an example of true belief in magic. But as she skimmed through the rest of Emilie and Gabriel’s journals, she realized that each of them truly believed in magic, and so did the people they met. Even the places the Agrestes journeyed to were all associated with magic through legend or myth.

And last but not least, never (had to use one replacement word, it’s from my ATLA wip)

“It’s Sokka!” His soulmate scowled at him, and Zuko knew that if his hands weren’t currently chained to the wall, he’d be crossing them like a petulant child.

Zuko scowled back. “It doesn’t matter. Once I get back home, I’m handing you over to my father, and he will be in charge of dealing with you. After three years, I will finally be free of your shadow. I’ll never have to know your Southern peasant name, because I’ll never see you again.”

Thanks so much for tagging me, guys!!

I will tag (though I might be retagging idk I hope not) @aidanchaser, @miabrown007, @fragileizywriting, @lady-de-mon-coeur, and anyone who sees this and wants to join in <3

Your words are: dream, fold, heart

Reserve words: sigh, cold, eyes

[chloemarievaughan]

May 5

When I was tour planning I really had three days worth of tour bus worthy itineraries in a row… but a combined ~30 hours on a tour bus seemed like it was pushing it a little bit and I like doing things more independently too, so I decided to venture out on our own at least for part of the day for one of our main attractions, a visit to Culloden battlefield, and booked a half day tour for a boat trip to look for Nessie on Loch Ness!

Turned out I should have sucked it up and done a third full day bus tour. I should have known better but we did make it work and it was fine- but would have done the same itinerary cheaper and easier on a full day tour 😂

my first mistake was that it is a Sunday and unbeknownst to me, the bus that goes directly from the city center of Inverness to the Culloden battlefield museum was not scheduled to run on a Sunday. I realized this in the morning before we left, so we decided to get breakfast and then get an Uber to the battlefield- about a 15 minute drive. Grey enjoyed a more relaxed start to the day, getting some pancakes and bacon. I’ve been eating breakfast provided by our landlady; she left instant porridge, cereal, and yogurt, milk and eggs for us to eat breakfast in the air bnb! And enjoying my Starbucks Via of course. well uber didn’t pan out; while Uber exists in Inverness, it Just started and there weren’t any drivers available. tried to sign up for a taxi app, it was a no go because you had to have a UK phone number to book one. And same thing with booking the taxi on their website. Luckily grey realized we were eating breakfast directly across the street from the taxi depot so we walked in and told the guy we wanted a taxi to Culloden and it was super easy.

Our taxi driver was a garrulous Eastern European man who was a lot of fun, joking about how if Culloden battle had gone differently then it would be required for all men visiting Scotland to wear kilts and joking that the people of Scotland don’t know what the sun is. Dropped us off and we bought a ticket for the museum and tour of the battlefield at Culloden.

Culloden was the site of the last major battle fought on British soil in April 1746. the supporters of the Stuart claim to the throne, including Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobites, made their last stand against the government in power, the Hanovers and King George and the Duke of Cumberland. The Jacobites lost the battle (1500 men died in less than an hour total battle), and then as a consequence, the Scottish culture (wearing kilts, playing bagpipes, speaking Gaelic, etc) was prohibited and the culture of Scotland was forever changed. It was a very nicely done museum, taking about an hour to walk through and then a 40 minute walking tour of the battlefield itself. The museum had two sides of the hallway throughout, one side telling the Jacobite side and one side telling the Government side. There was a movie room with projectors showing the view from all angles of the Culloden moor and how the battle went.

The tour walked out on the battlefield and went into more detail about where the people actually were standing, putting it into a cool context, and then the future consequences of the battle. The leader of the Jacobites, Bonnie Prince Charlie, escaped from hiding by disguising himself as a lady’s maid and getting on a ship out of Scotland.

Our tour guide was also named Chloe and she was Australian.

Then we grabbed a bite to eat from the cafe at the museum. We enjoyed a Culloden beer and a hot sausage roll and potato leek soup. we planned to save some money and try to take the bus back to Inverness, but again, the convenient bus stop was not running because it was a Sunday. It seemed like a less convenient bus would work but it required like a 30 minute walk to the nearby town, so we set out to walk. It was a nice walk through a wooded path beside the road and then past farms and into the cute village of Balloch; but as I was walking I realized that my backup bus option was Also closed on Sundays. The backup backup bus option was running on Sundays but only once hourly and waiting would mean we missed the bus to Loch Ness 😬 So I was getting stressed about how to get back to Inverness because while I had the phone number for the taxi company I couldn’t figure out the address for any of the houses we were passing 😂 another 17 minute walk away ( we had already walked 35 minutes at this point) was the Balloch village town hall which had an easily findable address. So I called the taxi depot and dispatched a taxi to meet us at the town hall and then we speed walked over there to meet the taxi, grey unbothered and me stressing about the idea of missing the Loch Ness cruise. But we made it to the taxi without further incident and then arrived back to Inverness like an hour before we needed to be back. Stupid public transportation! And honestly, we did have a lovely walk. Also our 50 minute walk saved a grand total of £3 😂

Once we made it back to Inverness (with plenary of time to spare. Like an hour lolol) we sat at the river again for a while before coming to our bus, which took us to an hour long cruise of Loch Ness, an hour to explore the ruins of Urquhart Castle, and an hour scenic drive through the mountains on the way back to Inverness. I thought the tour bus drivers on the previous two days had a lot of fun facts, but this woman Linda did not cease speaking for the entire time we were on the bus. She knew the broader historical facts about the cities and scenery, but seemingly also had a fun fact to share about every single house, farm, and restaurant we drove past. I’m not sure how she even had time to breathe she talked so much 😂

She dropped us off at Dochgarroch, where we boarded the boat for our tour of Loch Ness. We sailed something like 23 miles over our hour long ride and it was magical. We have been driving past plenty of similar views, but not all the waterways we have been seeing are navigable by boat. the water at Loch Ness is about 700 ft deep at its deepest. According to the boat captain, the water in Loch Ness is 42 degrees year round; it never freezes over or gets any warmer. There also is no visibility whatsoever; the water is black from the peaty soil of the loch, and while people have tried to take submarines down to search for Nessie, you have no visibility at all after about 6 feet down. We learned about the variety of societies and organizations that have been devoted to finding Nessie or disproving Nessie. Out on the loch with the cold Windle blowing off the water, an eerie mist surrounding us from the incoming rain, it was easy to feel an unsettling chill in the air: no wonder people felt they saw things in the water 😂 it did eventually start to rain, coming down in big raindrops that immediately proved that my rain coat was more water resistant than water proof, and getting us both fairly wet. the majority of people who had started the cruise sitting upstairs with us enjoying the view and breeze moved downstairs to the indoor part of the boat. grey and I scooted under an overhang where we could enjoy the view without getting wet. The “Highlander hot chocolates” we both enjoyed , which had a generous addition of whisky, definitely helped us warm up from the chill!

Once we landed at Urquhart castle, the light continued rain seemed the idyllic way to spend the afternoon traipsing around the stone ruins of a castle in the Scottish Highlands. the old outlines of the walls are the only thing left from the castle built in the 13th century with various additions through the years, but some parts you could still climb to the top or take a peek down into the dungeons. Par for the course I about wiped out slipping on the wet stone but no injuries except my dignity. It was funny to watch people sheltering from the rain in castle walls built 700 years ago, and think how many other people have sheltered from the rain in that time.

we made it back to Inverness after another solid hour of fun facts from Linda the bus driver. I had been reading about some options for our last night in Inverness, and one option was the Uile-bheist distillery. They have tours, and we were considering this until we learned more and realized it is a brand new distillery; they are still in the process of aging their whisky to be good to drink. The tour walks you through the history of creating the distillery and you can taste some of their blends they have crafted with other distilleries whiskies. Maybe next time we visit Inverness haha. The other option, which I was worried wouldn’t quite work out, is called the Malt Room. It is a tiny little bar seating only about 15-20 people, with an astounding collection of over 350 whiskies. however, our timing on this was PERFECT! We walked in just as someone was leaving and were able to grab a sofa. We each did a tasting of three whiskies. Greys was called “Island Life” and was Scapa 16 year, Talisker 18 year, and Ledaig 18 year. mine was called the CHOCOLATE flight: a match made in heaven! And it was a pairing of three whiskies each with an associated locally made chocolate from a fancy chocolatier! I was in heaven it was delicious. And what do you know, your bourbon girl actually does like Scotch! (Especially paired with chocolate! And not any of the Scotches Grey likes lolol) also, in an absolute MIRACLE of miracles, my sense of smell came back just in time for this tasting 😭 scotch has a sort of toffee smell that is very dissimilar to bourbon, along with of course the peaty smell on the peatier ones. I asked grey to describe his tasting to me so I could put it on this post but really all I could get out of him was that the Talisker 18 is now his top Scotch he has ever tried (that is Distilled on Skye! I had the Talisker 10 year yesterday. It was not my favorite ever though). Of my three scotches, I liked the Oban 14 year best (paired with a dark chocolate caramel truffle) and also enjoyed the Kilchoman Sanaig (paired with a cappuccino chocolate swirl). I was not much of a fan of the Tomatin 14 (paired with a chocolate with a red currant filling). Grey and I had fun touring Tomatin, but ultimately neither of us liked the flavors of their whisky. I actually liked the Oban 14 even when I wasn’t pairing it with the chocolate.

After our tasting, we ducked next store into the associated whisky shop and enjoyed chatting with the proprietor. Grey bought two bottles; one, he was chatting with another customer and we overheard the story. During a bottling, A distiller accidentally mixed Macallan 12 year- which is like a 80-90 dollar bottle of scotch with other 6 year blends that he was mixing, basically ruining the batch. But someone enterprising decided to bottle and sell that mistake and grey had to buy it when he heard the background 😂 and then grey also bought a store pick that the proprietor did at the Talisker distillery, of “Old Particular”. Grey was such a fan of the other Talisker! So looks like I’m gonna have to visit Denver to try greys Scotch haha.

We finished off the night with a Turkish restaurant where we by far had the most delicious meal of our trip! Lamb kebabs, couscous and pilaf, it was incredible. Made it back to the air bnb and again immediately went to bed! Another incredible day in Scotland- and we are going to be sad to leave Inverness! Such a great base for our exploration of the region.

[thesinglesjukebox]

ESLABON ARMADO AND PESO PLUMA - "ELLA BAILA SOLA"

Jacob brings us regional Mexican music's big pop moment...

[7.45]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: There are thousands upon thousands of words to be written about "Ella Baila Sola," the year of Peso Pluma, and the broader question of Mexican pop music in the American pop landscape that I frankly could not even begin to put together into this blurb -- because, frankly, I'd rather talk about "Ella Baila Sola" within its own singular context: "Ella Baila Sola" is perhaps the banger to end all bangers. It's nothing complicated; people have been writing incredible pop songs about having a huge crush on a hot stranger they saw at a party since the dawn of pop music (I read Bob Stanley's book on pre-1955 pop this year so I'm basically an expert on this.) But what shines through here is the genuine glee that Pedro Tovar and his boys have in the music. Each tripled-up guitar riff and stab of horns sounds so joyous and live that even a summer's worth of overplay can't quench it. The interplay between Tovar and Peso Pluma's vocals -- on opposite sides of the fine line between yearning and horny -- only adds to the thrill here; they're literally just some guys but in this particular moment, captured perfectly in the way that only a great pop song can, they reach some slight and passing transcendence. [10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: What a refreshing and left-field global phenomenon! In Chicago, "Ella Baila Sola" was our third most streamed Spotify song of 2023, and Peso Pluma was our fifth most streamed artist, so I've heard this on the train while commuting, in restaurants while deciding what to order, and in the park while lounging under the sun. Every time, the sweetness of the guitar strums and the playfulness of the trumpets have been felt like a reprieve from the monotony of the charts. [8]

Micha Cavaseno: The last couple of years, I finally made the bare minimum attempt to understand corridos as a style. Ultimately, my heart is always going to defer to my grandfather's Fania All-Stars collection when it comes to my own tastes, but I can appreciate the slightness and rootsy quality of these ballads. Peso Pluma's got that classic nasal bray that conveys far more character than notes could ever achieve, and the tone of "Ella Baila" is carefree in a way that implies a youth and freedom to offset the grit in the vocals. I suppose this is more of a reminder as ever as to the charms of a style you rarely get to think of in the greater pop context. [7]

Ian Mathers: Really enjoy the music, and Peso Pluma is clearly a charismatic performer, I just kinda hate his voice here. To the extent that if this was Armado solo I think I'd give it an extra point. [8]

David Moore: I am never confronted so completely with the limits of my monolingual, myopic cultural existence than hearing that brass section, no matter what strain or subgenre it is or how decisively it's crossing over into my corner of the world from speakers or Billboard articles. My appreciation never budges. It's like opera and statues -- I experience it and think "I'll bet that's really special to someone and I'm really missing out," and then hope that no one asks me to share my opinion afterward. Maybe I could take a class or something. [5]

Nortey Dowuona: The tololoche is the Mexican folk bass. Its name originated from the Maya names tolo for "bull" and loch for "embraced." Here's a picture of one from 1930; here's a link to go buy the strings. Yes it has 4 strings only. Here's a link to a VST of the instrument. If you are most handy with the computer, try that. But of the actual instrument, since a tololoche can have strings made from tungsten, nickel or steel and can go for at least $1300, if you're a beginner I'd advise to get one ASAP. Now, you'll have to play for about four years and write songs for three before you make a song as good as this one, but since this is gonna be a thing for the next decade, get on it before Peso Pluma moves to Barcelona. Good luck! [10]

Katherine St Asaph: What about this particular song made it blow up at a scale that regional Mexican previously hadn't? Variety had a feature about it, but nothing they described -- exclusive tech deals, influencers, general hello-fellow-zoomers --seems any different from anyone else's record-label rollout. The song is nice but doesn't really make many pop concessions. Freaky Trigger ran an article last month on "the rainbow of new stories" of the charts; it's probably the coherent version of whatever I might make of this. [6]

Brad Shoup: Listening to Eslabon Armado's earlier stuff really makes clear how much juice they gave this. When it became a smash I thought it was fine, a pop corrido; I wish they'd gone full sinaloense and let the brass wail. In the context of the group's career, though, it hits a little different. What sounded like a nagging pop topline now sounds like Jeff Buckley, which makes everything an additional degree of ersatz, which is a really interesting place to be. [7]

Crystal Leww: I grew up in Texas surrounded by Mexicans, specifically, so Spanish language music wasn't as much reggaeton or dembow or bachata but instead music that sounds like "Ella Baila Sola," heavy on the guitar and the horns and less on the doom-ca-ca! This is music that is instead made for twirling your girl in and out of a closed hold position, but like, more casual and more sweet than stuffy. Hearing this conjures up fond memories of the smell of the grill in the park now, the sight of the cooler full of Corona and fruity, sugary sweet drinks, and the families from young to old sitting around on foldable chairs as music blares out of a speaker somewhere. [6]

Alex Clifton: I'm pretty much sold on anything that features twelve-string guitars and horns. Throw in a lovely, lilting melody and I'll be dancing all day. [7]

Tara Hillegeist: Probably the single sexiest song I have ever heard about a woman dancing all by herself since Robyn's "Dancing On My Own". Not that there's much competition, but the trombone on this -- it makes me swoon. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[bikepackinguk]

Day Thirty

Been going the whole of June! And today has been some solid work at that.

Had a decent breakfast outside Dornoch this morning as I knew the day ahead was going to entail a serious amount of effort, and passed the time to clear rush hour. Overcast skies made for cooler temperatures which was exactly what I needed for the today.

The stretch ahead for the day is one I rode years back for my LEJOG tour and whilst the traffic won't be enjoyable, it's going to be filled with memories for me, so I was eager to crack at it.

Setting off from Dornoch we head up to the lovely Loch Fleet, which with the benefit of some still air reflected the nearby hills almost like a mirror.

Past The Mound is the first of today's ascents, but the legs are feeling good and it's pushed up without too much bother.

A little further along and I take a stop off at the nice little town of Golspie to take on some water and enjoy some nice chats with another LEJOGer and a few others, before heading on again to Brora.

A little past Brora is a lovely memory for me. I stopped here previously after riding through the night to see the sun rising above the hills over Helmsdale. A strong enough moment for me that I have a picture of it on a canvas that has been on my wall for years. A short break there to again hear the seabirds calling and soak in the memories is time well spent.

From here though, the real hard work begins, and the road heads straight into a good 400ft/120m climb into the hills to get up to Helmsdale itself, where it's time for a deserved break for lunch. I'm loading up on calories here again as I know there's a lot more work yet to come today, but have some fun looking out at some of the views and chatting with a few more tourists stopping off in the picnic area.

Whilst here the grey skies start to rain down at 2pm, and with it looking like persisting I feel it's time for the waterproofs to get fully deployed. They'll need to stay on for a good 5 hours from here as we receive some proper British summertime weather.

Out from Helmsdale, it's time for the first serious challenge of the day - a big long ascent of around 750ft/230m up and up onto the hilltops. This is a serious slog and a good few breaks are needed before the summit is finally reached.

There's a short stretch of flatter terrain up top, where I get another trip down memory lane passing the point where I'd made my morning update years back, and then it's on to Berridale.

This ridiculous spot sees the road fly back down to sea level, before zig zagging its way straight back up again to around 600ft/180m. The steep descent is dangerous enough to warrant run-off areas, which I witness one campervan require.

Halfway up the other side I take a longer breather by a war grave site because damn this is some hard going, but there's not much avoiding it! Getting up into the hills does give some amazing views at least.

Once finally at the top of this climb, it's relatively flatter going finally, and with the better road surfaces of a main road the bike can make some good going of it, so time to get some more miles in.

After chugging along a good ways, ahead is the Laidhay Tea Rooms which I particularly wanted to stop at as I'd taken a break here previously. With typical timing I arrived after they'd closed and were in the process of cleaning up! They did kindly offer to fix me a coffee to take away though, and whilst being prepared some chatting naturally ensued.

Hearing my route and that I had memories of the place previously, I was very kindly given not only a nice cuppa but also a particularly tasty fruit scone, both of which they refused to take payment for. For a third time, thank you both so much!

Sufficiently refuelled, onwards again, and whilst there are a few more hills in store there's nothing so serious as what's behind us now, so it's fairly regular going, especially with traffic lightening as the evening sets in.

Once past Latheron, it's onto the A99 which swings past some very impressive clifftops on the route up to Wick. Whilst there's still a few hours of daylight left at this point, I'm conscious that a lot of effort has been expended today and don't want to thrash the kegs too much, and at Thrumster there's some good patches of forest which make for an ideal point to pitch up for the evening.

By 8pm I'm all set up, and with this all written up that's a well earned evening's rest for me I think!

[futanariwriter]

GunShip

Bangga Beast Master Ch. 3

January 20, 2023

CH.3 Beetle Farming 

It was around 3rd full half rotation of Rayuba around both its suns which normally would takeabout 1 earth year. On Terran we had a different zodiac system which had 36 zodiacs instead of 12. I was born during the sign of the apprentice a jack of all trades, maybe this is why I decided to start farming beetles along where the Bangga tribes roamed. I would use the Gwarn(a species like a Veloca raptor but less aggressive vegetarian scalies) as my vehicle and a spear which could to keep them contained and produce plenty of beetle juice, a kind of milk which could heal wounds and make quite a delicious curry or soup broth with some root vegetables, & herbs. 

The Beatles sustained on a healthy diet of ants raised locally in the forest and herded to the beetles after being slaughtered… How are they slaughtered you might ask. The giant ants of the Northern Rayuban Coast are taken to a special room with a priest of the god Atru within it. There the Blood is gathered and a prayer is said to the god with the sacrifice. Aranea would Train by wrestling the giant beetles, teaching them Prakash Circle Fighting too!

Pree Aasma, Ys-Asram, Ys-Pranma, Hansa, and Prat Payam who temper my heart, Yi-sun Atru Vyam, Forgive me for the violence I am about to commit. 

The Priest would then take His Holy Butcher Blade, or execution object of their choice, but no magic could be used as it would effect the taste of the meat. The Meat was then taken to Our Cosmic Market and sold to the highest bidder. We would often go through about one ant a week. We didn’t let hardly any of it go to waste though, but when your feeding 10 dwarf Giant Beetles from another planet one Giant ant the size of 2 humans only goes so far. Cooking them was always fun. I would smoke them in a smoker I had made in the forest out of cypress & eucalyptus branches.The smoke was made from sacred sage and cannabis bushes which I grew many of on the Island near the Northern Rayuban Coast. Eco-Rave Island I called it then in that third year living there in the Month of Mara.

 I fed my Beetles to my Gwyaru after they had been alive for one whole year in Rayuban time or almost 4 years Earth. Pandetto my Gwyaru a species which Kind of looked like the Loch- ness monster with legs was exceptionally loyal and saved me a lot of gas which although it was available was sourced from whalers and fur trader's along the coast…although it could be produced via farming cannabis and other crops. We traveled to the temples teaching the humble art of Fist Law and selling cestus to young upstarts. The legend of the king's key was circulating at this time and people had begun to believe in heroes again. 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tr_t4kdlEFc

At Jade emerald Temple Young Warriors of the old law had begun to train again in KI Rata. The 

same art which I had been taught as a child by the Bangga Tribal Elders who said it was their responsibility to pass this sacred art to all who would learn it…since it had the potential to save one's life, which it did during the conflict 12 years ago. If Aranea hadn’t disabled the Red-Dragons Well of demonic blood in Ruin that fateful day Bastion might not have won the war and their closest friends and family would be slaves to the dark creatures of the night.

They Took a sip of Holy Water to Shake the feeling which this memory had conjured within them. She put her hand on their Uzis. “ I better Stock up on more ammo, there is no knowing when varmints might come to steal my beetles.” she said in an rural voice somberly. They decided to declare their property its own town. The towns name was called Tippa named for Araneas Grandmother who died from being attacked by a giant centipede in the forest late at night. This was around the time when Aranea started meditating more and learning to align their inner Chakras. Fighting their own demons before learning to fight others. After all practitioners of ki-rata were wary of acquiring too much power because the tales of conquering king show what power and royalty can do to a man. It is truly better to stay humble than to try and become something which people adore. Only Fools try to do this, and you are no fool are you son. They said to pan-pan. However, if you are intent on learning some form of martial arts I will teach you the secret to all righteous fist arts. 

It was His(Din-DIns) 14th Birthday and their mom had been urging me to teach him my secret technique so here it finally was. The Tri-Gram Mantra, WIsdom (Belief in the one True God), Restraint, and emptiness (from all worldly desire). Master this, and master the essence of all righteous fist law my son. They walked away, unsure of what to say, hoping to receive some kind of form to practice. However they continued their training and eventually became one of the greatest Ki-rata Masters ever to walk on the land of two suns since “Paternum ''. 

At This Time Their Mothers had Jobs cultivating specific herbs for our little slice of outworld market Navi grew the cannabis, Cassandra the Dragon Tongue Sage, and Loretta all sorts of wonderful spices like Rosemary, Thyme, Basil, Daikons, soybeans and witches sage, not to mention she also grew crystals in a little jar next to indoor spa we had made for relaxing after long days at work. Cassandra also worked as a Droid Technician which was extremely helpful at times to say the least. Not only in terms of currency, but building sex droids to satisfy Araneas lust and take care of the farm.

It was hard not to make them all jealous of each other at times, luckily I had enough strength and stamina to make trips to earth regularly where we could ll reconnect, trip, and have some time to love each other without the kids anywhere nearby cause we would encourage they to go to the poison zone and try and kill the zombies, so this dying planet could be healed. Nyuu got scrapped by a rust piece of metal coming from a car, but was easily recovered by the beetle milk when they got back from hunting. Our Ceremonious sex suddenly stopped and it would be another full rotation till we came backto the portal on mel’el which was two weeks starskipper from Rayubas Now Bastion Controlled city of Ruin now called Aeesmas house, which was still inhabited mostly by demons, who now just ran murder gangs and raced each other for money instead of assembling hordes to conquer all that is good. 

Water had to be gathered from the rooftops, the only other way to get it was to lick it off the grass or distil it from the ocean. The latter meant starting a fire which had to be done inside and could burn your house down, and the forest if you weren't careful. I set up lots of water collection banks though and sold the water everywhere. Cheap, but enough to where I could buy the oil I needed for cooking so I wouldn’t have to make my own or scavenge scrap weapons from the war to buy it. 

They made so many good dishes with the beetle meat..The local Banga couldn't get enough of it when they prepared it with some” witches sage”, a pineapple and some black pepper. This was essentially the beginning of my retirement. I started a bank account by investing in pure gold and burying it on my property. Enough to live on this planet forever. Their shells I found when ground into a fine powder could be insufflated and was to my financial gain addictive. 

After establishing with my family that this new drug which increased ones agility should not be sold to kids we were able to start a large beetle farm on melalel there they could free range and giant beetles were a rare occurrence now that they had become accustomed to the bipedal presence on this part of the moon for the past few generations for them. 

After establishing a Fortress of sorts on the iced out moon they made a giant freezer out of the ice on the surface to store the meat in. Back on Rayuba people began to ride the beatles like horses and merchants made custom saddles for them since gas had become too expensive to power their zero-gravity vehicles. Unfortunately solar power had not been discovered yet. About 100 got shipped off world every two weeks for the meat industry and 100 for peoples new mode of transportation. 

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cBSndykNQo

They began to build giant greenhouses filled with the herbs they grew back on Rayuba, here they grew larger though as they were closer to Rayubas second sun Flugibic. These herbs got shipped all over and soon they bought and owned the planet. It wasn’t hard to lay claim to it though when you're one of the first Rayubans to inhabit it. 

They had finally amassed enough wealth for their dragon-like urge to collect wealth was satisfied. The Ledger balanced, they established a will that each of their kin would get an equal share of their wealth upon a time of their choosing. By this time another 3 years had passed earth time and the love between the family grew.Now the kids had all left the house and they had a planet all to themselves. 

They would race around recklessly among the 500 acres in their mech suits. Cassandra created a mech suit that would allow species that don’t breathe underwater to breathe without the use of rebreather crystals. In addition to allowing her and Nyuu to breathe underwater, it gave them armor and weapons like spears which shot out of the suits hands and jet packs that allowed the user to swim around quickly. 

During their underwater expeditions, they found a grotto that contained a lava tunnel that was marked by a large godess statue so it could easily be returned to and made into a hotsprings… the ultimate relaxation after a long day of fishing, excavating, harvesting crops and beetle ranching

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvVkXvtYYpA

One day their dad Aranea took their kids hunting who were all turning 16 since two earth years had passed since they moved off Rayuba and purchased the Planet. Some people objected to the idea of owning a planet, but they really weren't terraforming it in any way since that would be bad for the beatles who called this icy planet Mel'el' home anyways. 

On this epic Hunt out in the open fields of snow, there was an ice wolf about 20 feet tall that emerged from its camouflaged cocoon. You could see through its body and see its organs including its brain which made it look almost like an alien or gelatinous cube of sorts. Either way, it turned to smoke when it was shot in the brain by a cestus blast by one of us, but it is hard to say which. We collected its iced scales into a bag and put the bag on our RIding Beetles which we took to our house where we crushed them into a fine blue powder and were able to sell to a local alchemist thankfully, almost too good to be true. They called him St. Nick cause he lived in seclusion but his drunken demeanor was not very cheerful or joyful at all. We exchanged credits for the powder and parted ways across the icy hills on our riding beetles which only went about 25 mph max. But they were an eco-friendly mode of transport and they made milk that healed you on your adventures. 

Some people fight them for entertainment however I abhor these barbaric acts of cruelty. It was for these reasons I had started to make preserves for these creatures so they could roam forever despite my family and their descendants living there. Thankfully my descendants would never overpopulate this sacred land thanks to the portal…if used correctly. From that day forward I made it my duty to inscribe in the stone around the portal between the already very cryptic language rules to help Rayubans off-world never violate this sacred land. This portal became well known and an underground city was started around it. A small colony of slavers once came here but started a new life as vegan merchants after passing through the portal because of its commandments which were enshrined by Aranea next to a statue of the great Aeesma or in the terran realm Kali, the hindu goddess of time. 

"The portal helps some escape time, however, nobody can escape their karma." "Only Kali can heal that" said Aranea to their kids, who they were teaching about the great Rayuban war, and teaching them the ways of fist arts with a cestus by smashing giant stones with the cestus which was made of diamond and stone with the diamond in the knuckles and tips, including spikes which it had many as it was inspired by the armor of the snow wolf. Which the stone part was covered in the beings scales. The next week was pretty boring. All the customers at their farmers market were either tourists from the outworld or nobles from the red city trying to vacation in our estate as though it was a 5-star hotel…I like to think of it more like Vegas, but it is what it is.  I just try to make sure everybody has a good time. I book the music and I call the shots, if people get out of line I make them sorry. 

"Put this in your pipe and smoke it you toxic little cowardly bug!" I screamed as I jumped on a beetle and rode it into the new town which had popped up only 5 miles off my estate. It being my planet though I was allowed to go anywhere I please, though I had to respect the private property rights of people who choose to live here peacefully and not pollute this sacred land which many creatures call home, which many spirits have lived in since long before we were here. This is their home. Not ours. 

[liiacfleur]

Calendar and Moon Cycles

(under the cut is a brief layout of the calendar. I have a more in depth calendar on ‘roll for fantasy’ that I use for reference when writing, but you wont need much more than this as a reader. more details regarding important dates/events will be added as the story progresses)

Calendar Months and Important Dates

Sanctum

Duration: 51 days.

Season: Winter.

The height of winter, and the time of year when the nobility tend to flock to Cherry to take residence - thus its name. It is when the most important council meetings take place regarding the Kingdoms expenditures the year prior and their prospects for the year ahead.

Violet Sea

Duration: 42 days.

Season: Spring.

Given its name for the purple flowers that litter the grasses of the entire Kingdom come spring, the Violet Sea is a common month for celebration once the winter has passed. The Violet Sea festival - which takes place in every city, town, and village - doesn’t have a set date, but is decided upon by the nobility once the snow melts. While there are celebrations throughout the Kingdom, the largest festivals are held by Cherry and Loch Nora respectively.

Sow

Duration: 44 days.

Season: Spring/Summer.

The Sow is a time for planting seeds and tilling fields. It is when most of the work to prepare for cultivating crops occurs. There are often celebrations held by peasant households once the final seed has been planted. If a noble family plans to go on a long tour of the kingdom, it is common for them to set off in the middle of the month once the spring rains have ceased.

Amber

Duration: 43 days.

Season: Summer.

Amber is the height of summer, named for the blazing sun overhead. Summer solace festivals are held, and it is a common time for travel while the weather is fair. During Amber, there are also tournaments that take place across the kingdom.

Red Rain

Duration: 40 days.

Season: Summer/Autumn.

The Red Rain, named for the leaves that fall from trees, is the end of summer and the beginning of autumn.

Golden Star

Duration: 45 days.

Season: Autumn.

Its name is said to come from the Golden King’s victory against the Undying King, but likely stems from a brilliant star that shines in the sky to signal it is time for the harvest. There are often celebrations once the harvest is complete, and Cherry holds a large festival for its citizens as well as a banquet for all nobles to attend. 

White Rain

Duration: 49 days.

Season: Winter.

Given its name for the snow that begins to fall, it is the the beginning of winter. There are winter solace festivals that take place, but they’re not nearly as grand as the summer solace. Peasants spend most of their time pickling food and securing their rations. It is also the time when the northern sea completely freezes over, and thus halts sea trade for the remainder of the year. 

Nocturne

Duration: 51 days.

Season: Winter.

Dubbed Nocturne due to the few hours of sun in a day - little to none in the north - it is a month filled with the biting chill of winter. For the last two weeks of the month, noble families who can afford traveling in the harsh conditions (via either overland travel or, if they’re wealthy enough, griffins) begin to make their way to the capital for Sanctum. Most of the peasantry passes the time in their homes around their hearths, and avoid travel at all costs.

Moon Cycles

Aurora

Duration: 15 days.

First Moon (largest in the sky)

Tempes

Duration: 30 days.

Second Moon

Amaltheia

Duration: 45 days.

Third Moon (smallest in the sky)

[sekhisadventures]

Preludes to Adventure

Year 25 After First War

The Wandering Isle

A picture of serenity in a world often on the edge of chaos, that is the way to describe the Wandering Isle. Every so often an Alliance or Horde vessel would record on their sea charts a island in the distance with ornate buildings, report it at Orgrimmar or Stormwind, but when an exploratory vessel arrives they only find empty sea… because of course they do.

The island wanders, that’s why it’s called that.

Along one of the paths in the farms dotting the side of the island ran a young pandaren girl, her hair tied up into a pair of bunches, a single streak of white in her black locks. She was bringing her father his lunch. When she finds him he’ll lift her up into a hug as he always does, calling her his little sweet dumpling and making the joke about how he could just eat her up.

He’d then put her down and pat her head, then shoulder his hoe and got back to work. Harvest time would be soon and the Virmen were being worse than usual this year. They’d have to work extra fast to get the food stored before the voracious rabbits could steal it.

The island is a peaceful place, far from the chaos of the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor. They know nothing of the Scourge, or the events of Mount Hyjal, or how close their whole world came to destruction once again.

That night as the pandaren girl goes to bed her father will come to tuck her in, singing to her a song he knows of long ago, that his mother sang to him as a cub. He hopes one day his daughter Jaie will have a cub of her own to pass the song to.

Perhaps she will.

Ironforge Mountain

The booty was divvied up, the dwarves laughter echoing through the forlorn cavern. Blackbeard and his men had raided a merchant cart coming upwards from Stormwind through Loch Modan. An ambush by the Dragonmaw Clan orcs had left their defenders injured and weary, and it was the work of a moment to get behind them in the dark and clonk them over the heads.

Blackbeard grinned to his newest recruit. Unlike his other men this one had a good two feet on him, and a face as ‘hairless as a babe’s arse’ as the dwarf was fond of putting it but Sam had turned out to be a dab hand with lockpicks and an excellent climber. He could get into places that Blackbeard’s best had struggled with for years. A natural talent.

Blackbeard was rather happy he’d stopped Darkdraft from breaking his arm that day. The elf was turning out to be a real asset. That night Sam would go to one of the many beer halls in the mountain and divest his earnings in the fun way. At least, the way he convinced himself was fun anyways.

Stormwind City

Heads turned as the woman walked along the path into the city, but then elves like her were still a new sight to many of the humans. Eyes that glowed like starlight, skin as purple as good wine, and hair as white as the snows in Dun Morogh, but with a sort of wildness to her that the High Elves of Quel’thalas lacked.

Shalandrae felt extremely out of place there. The ground was covered in rocks, the buildings were made from cut wood, not grown into shape by the will of their druids and the wisps of the forests. She found her feet leading her towards the park district, letting out a sigh of relief as she felt natural ground once again. She took a seat under a tree, leaning back and running her hands through the grass as one might run their fingers through the hair of a loved one, just listening to the voice of nature all around her.

Loch Modan

The Dark Irons had been causing trouble again, all along the loch. They had to call for help from Ironforge. The dwarf who came was that help. A knowledgeable veteran of the Second and Third wars and a paladin to boot. He organized the militia and that morning raided the Dark Iron’s base camp as the sun’s rays first graced the Loch’s surface. Ragnaros’ minions were caught by surprise and routed to a man, fighting to the death rather than face capture and be dragged off to Ironforge.

That night the beer hall rang with cheers and the ale flowed, Happy Hour had become more Absolutely Ecstatic Five Hours and a Bit.

Dareley smiled and nodded politely at the praise, but his heart wasn’t in it. It hadn’t been for a while now. After a while he excused himself, saying he wanted some fresh air, then went outside, took something from around his neck, and just stared at it for a while in the moonlight. Alone.

The Wilds of Gilneas

The worgen pack roared as they tore through the underbrush, their fur shining in the gloom, their eyes flashing dangerously, their claws tearing up the dirt.

Ahead of them was something soft and weak. It stank of fear, it smelled like prey. That was all the worgen cared about. Prey and predator, hunter and hunted. Nothing else mattered.

The prey thing cried out, the pack saw him stumble.

As one they lept.

The prey thing did not cry out again.

The pack roared in victory, and then their fangs shone in the moonlight as they fell upon their prey.

The hunt was done, now they would feast!

Kezan

An explosion rocked the workshop, though this was nothing new. For one, there was someone hard at work there and, for another, it was a goblin’s workshop. If a goblin’s workshop didn’t occasionally go boom someone would probably wonder if the owner had fallen ill.

A squat green man stumbled out, hacking and waving his hand infront of his face as acrid smoke billowed out the window. He cursed, coughing some more, then reached into his pocket and took out a cigar, biting the tip off and spitting it away before lighting it up.

He was close now. The chassis was all set, the engine was a peach, the construction was solid enough, there were sparks but fel there always were. He just needed a fuel source! He scowled. Oil didn’t do it, too damn smokey. It’d be good if his creation could suffocate an enemy to death perhaps, but the smoke tended to go where it wanted.

Grimo sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Back to the drawing board.

Durotar

The wind howled over the hard red soil, an old orc seated cross-legged on a plateau, a series of totems around him. Each one had a small glow to it. The bright green of healthy grass, the flickering red of a campfire, the swirling clearness of clean water, and the crackling blue of lighting during the height of a storm.

The orc wasn’t doing anything but listening for now, the elements weren’t speaking much at the moment, but the orc felt as if something was coming. In his youth he would have raged and demanded answers from them… but time and harsh lessons had taught him the value of calm and patience.

The sun was warm on his skin, the breeze gentle enough. He would sit, and he would wait. Eventually, Krag’thar would hear the element’s voices, when they were ready for their speaker to hear them.

Mulgore

Inside the weaver’s hut a taureness focused on her weaving, working strands of woven wool into colorful patterns to make a new blanket. She wished she could do more than just weaving but she could barely hold a sword, fighting scared her, she had no talent for shapeshifting, and when she tried to hear the elements she could only hear the wind like everyone else.

All her childhood friends had gone off to Orgrimmar to join the military. Warchief Thrall was convinced that the humans would make a move soon. He did not relish the idea of fighting against them of course, but if that was what it took to protect his people then so be it.

Nitika sighed to herself, perhaps someday she’d find her path in life. For now, at least she could make a decent set of robes for those who found theirs.

The Ruins of Quel’Thalas

All around him elves worked to restore what they could, but it was slow going. Magic was at a premium these days, the Sunwell a recent but still very painful memory. The elves had tried to find other sources, but without their precious font of power those few who survived the Scourge would find themselves facing a fate worse than death.

He’d heard tales of those wretched few who’d fallen to their ever-present need for magic. They became mana-hungry addicts, often driving crystals into their very flesh to feed the aching void that the Sunwell’s destruction had left behind.

Cern sat in the inn, nursing a bottle of wine as he gazed at a ring on the table before him. He couldn’t bear to get rid of it, but he couldn’t bear to wear it again. Knowing the one who gave it to him was, even as he sat there, shambling through the haunted forests south of Quel’thalas, a mindless slave to the one who’d destroyed their home.

He took a long drink from the bottle, then placed his head on the table, and refused to move for some time…

Icecrown Citadel, Northrend

Through the halls echoed the footsteps of the dead. The shuffling sound of ghouls, the click-clack skittering of the spider-like Nerubians, the loud thud-thud steps of the abominations, and the metallic clatter of the Death Knights, the elite soldiers of King Arthas.

As two of them passed the chambers of Kel’thuzad they paused, looking towards the door as a voice echoed from inside. It sounded like a troll’s voice…

“No! Ya be keepin’ away from me! NO! STOP! NOOOOOOOO!” it cried out, then slowly it faded into nothing.

The knights shrugged at each other. It was Lich business, best not bother him. Kel’thuzad was Arthas’ favorite, neither one of them wanted to face the wrath of the Lich King.

The Island of Zandalar, Vol’dun

A series of wagons made their way across the dunes, returning from a trading trip to the Temple of Akunda. The followers of the Loa traded their memories of the sins that had gotten them exiled to the dunes for the peace of mind it brought, but they still required foodstuffs.

A young vulpera woman with sandy fur led them, the cart being pulled along by two alpaca. Seated next to her was a kit barely seven years old, playing on a flute that her parents had bought for her at the last moot for her birthday.

Meerah tried to ignore the loud squeaky sounds it made, but it wasn’t easy. Sekhi was excited though, and with enough practice maybe she’d make a great musician one day.

A loud squealing honk made Dolly and Dot come close to bolting in alarm, but Meera was able to calm them in time. Yes, a great musician someday, but not today…

Next Story

Previous Story

[americangeophysicalunion]

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Are you afraid of creatures that go bump in the night? How about those who swim in Loch Ness 🦕 or sink pirate ships w/ their might tentacles? 🦑 Check out pt 2 of our Third Pod from the Sun Halloween 🎃 series about monsters & their real-life inspirations

 https://blogs.agu.org/thirdpodfromthesun/2022/10/31/halloween-special-nessie-the-kraken/ 

[bestworstcase]

something that has been on my mind recently. So Eugene is taken from the dark kingdom as a baby but he grows up in Corona. So how the heck did he get all the way from the dark kingdom and why did the maid/wet nurse decide on corona. Like I wish we had more insight into baby Eugene.

wellll ok. so. timeline,

A horse-drawn wagon can travel approximately 10-30 miles per day, depending on terrain. We’ll split the difference and assume that team corona averages 20 miles per day. They’re also following the roads, so all distances estimated here are by-road, and distances as the crow flies will be shorter.

They leave Corona at the end of S1. For discussion purposes we’ll keep track of both total days and traveling days, so: this is Day 0, and Traveling Day 0.

Beyond the Corona Walls establishes that Vardaros is one week from corona by wagon. So, they arrive in Vardaros on Day 7 and Traveling Day 7, they have traveled about 140 miles.

The events of BTCW last two days (7-8). Return of Quaid takes place over the course of the next four (9-12), and Goodbye and Goodwill the two following that (13-14). When they leave Vardaros, they’re headed east with the sun behind them, indicating that it’s the evening after the gopher grab—so, evening of Day 14, Traveling Day 8.

There’s no hard time references in Forest of No Return to give us an idea of how long it’s been since they left Vardaros, but it doesn’t seem to have been especially long, and thanks to KOTS/RTTS we know that 1. the Forest of No Return is somewhere in between Corona and the Spire, and 2. the Spire is about half a day’s journey from Corona by powered balloon, which I would guess has an average ground speed of maybe 30mph. So, assuming a six-hour flight in RTTS, we can estimate that the Spire is around 180 miles from Corona as the crow flies. The terrain in that region is pretty gnarly, so we’ll double that and round up and say the distance by road from Corona to the Spire is about 400 miles. That puts Vardaros about one third of the way to the Spire, making the distance from Vardaros to the Spire about 260 miles and the Forest of No Return somewhere in the middle of that.

Let’s assume the Forest is at the southeastern tip of Kresten Loch, as is vaguely implied by the map in RTTS. That would put it closer to the Spire than to Vardaros, so we’ll say the Forest is roughly two-thirds of the way there and put it at 160 miles from Vardaros by road. That would make the beginning of FONR Day 22 and Travel Day 15.

FONR begins on D22/TD15. They lose the caravan that same day and camp in the woods for the night, make it out of the forest in the evening of D23/TD16. They lose quite a bit of time in the forest on account of the shifting geography and basically cross the thing twice on foot, so we’ll call it 10 miles total. End of D23/TD16, they’ve traveled about 310 miles from Corona.

We’ll skip over Freebird and Vigor the Visionary; both of them occur between the Forest and the Spire, which we’ve estimated to be a distance of about 90 miles by road, and both episodes make a point of noting that Team Corona is not traveling at an especially rigorous pace; so let’s assume that they’re averaging about 10 miles per day during this leg of the trip, and say they get to the base of the Spire nine days after escaping the Forest.

That puts the beginning of Keeper of the Spire at D32/TD25, about one month and four hundred miles after their departure from Corona. Keeper of the Spire lasts from the afternoon of D32 to the night of D33.

The map in Rapunzel’s Return is definitely not to scale, but it implies that the distance from the Spire to the Coast is about half the distance from the Spire to the Forest. Assuming that map was sketched by someone in the caravan, I think we can take the relative distances of things as more of an indication of travel time than actual distance, and therefore conclude that they reached the coast in about half the time it took them to get from the Forest to the Spire. If they resumed their normal pace of 20 miles per day after leaving the Spire, that would make the approximate distance to the coast about 90 miles. Let’s round that up to 100 for a nice even five days of travel.

So, they reach the coast on D38, TD 30. They’re approximately 500 miles away from Corona by road, less as the crow flies. They spend an unknown amount of time converting the caravan into a boat—let’s say a week, so they set sail D45/TD31. Let’s be very generous and assume the caravan-boat can sail at a speed of about 3 knots, just a little under 4 miles per hour, for an average of about 80 miles per day.

When King Pascal begins, they’re far enough out to sea for the entire horizon to be water but have not been sailing long enough for their terrible caravan-boat to get its ass kicked yet. I figure they set sail in the morning of D45/TD31 and KP begins at noon (the shadow of the flying seagull at the beginning is directly below) of the same day. Thus, they’re about 24 miles from the coast when the storm hits.

They wash up on the shore of Terapi Island, which is close enough to the mainland for that coast to be visible from the beach—about 4-5 miles assuming the curvature of the planet is similar to that of the earth. It’s noted that they’ll be stranded on Terapi until the next new moon, and Happiness Is takes place during the full moon. It’s strongly implied that they missed the ferry that arrived after Happiness is and had to wait for the next one—Lance states that they’ve been on the island for six weeks at the beginning of Peril on the High Seas.

So, PotHS begins at dusk. The sun is setting to the west, in in what appears to be the direction of the bit of visible coastline that can be seen from Terapi. This suggests that the storm in King Pascal blew them backwards, and Terapi is within four or five miles off the east coast of Corona’s continent. This is congruous with the relative distances shown in the Rapunzel’s Return map.

That puts them about 505 miles away from Corona when they leave the island on D87, TD32. PotHS takes place that night, and they appear to continue sailing through that night and all of the following day (at least): when they arrive on the eastern coast, the sun is on the horizon to the west again. We’ll assume that we only skipped one day, which puts the end of PotHS in the evening of D88, TD33. A regular sailing ship will travel at about 4-5 knots which’d make this twenty-four hour journey approximately 200 miles in length. They are 705 miles from Corona now.

The next episode is Curses!, which revolves around Lombard’s Pass. In the Rapunzel’s Return map, Lombard’s Pass is drawn immediately on the coast, but the terrain shown in the episode is emphatically not coastal. Applying the same standard we used to guess the approximate distance from the Spire to the coast based on this map, let’s assume that Lombard’s Pass was a journey of three days from the coast and that they rushed a bit to try to make up for lost time, averaging the maximum possible 30 miles per day. That makes Curses begin on D90/TD35, 795 miles from Corona.

Curses is another two-day episode, ending late in the afternoon on D91/D36.

Eye of Pincosta picks up apparently quite some ways from Lombard’s Pass: they’ve passed through at least one town (Zulberg) and traveled far enough from there to be running low on supplies again, so there was probably a bit of a time skip here. This section of the story seems to take place in a relatively populous region, with a lot of towns and roadside inns; I think we can assume that they’re not stopping to resupply in every single town they come through, so their need to stop in Pincosta isn’t necessarily suggestive of there being a huge distance between it and Zulberg. We’ll call it a month, at their usual pace of 20 miles per day. That’s about 600 miles, and puts EOP’s beginning at D120/TD65, 1,395 miles from Corona.

EOP lasts for three days; they leave Pincosta on D123, TD66.

Rapunzel and the Great Tree gives us an approximate temporal reference of “after being cramped in that caravan for the last few months.” I think—given the relatively dense population in the Pincosta region and the likelihood of the Great Tree itself being very remote—we can take this to mean the last few months since the end of Peril on the High Seas, NOT since they left Corona. If we interpret “a few” to mean three, which seems reasonable, then it has been about two months since they left Pincosta. We’ll round up to get a nice number and say RATGT begins on D185, TD128; and again, using their usual 20 miles per day pace, that’s 1,240 miles from Pincosta and 2,635 from Corona.

They camp in the Great Tree on D186. RATGT ends at dawn on D187, TD130, and from there they travel on foot for the next few episodes. At this point they have minimal supplies and will need to scavenge for food, are in unfamiliar wilderness, and one of them is seriously injured, so they’re not going to be making especially good time. Let’s use 8 miles per day as our average.

It’s unclear how much time elapses between RATGT and Brothers Hook, but 1. it’s long enough for all of them to be sick of each other, and 2. for squabbling over their scant supplies to have become commonplace, but 3. not long enough for the unspoken tension between Cass and Rapunzel to boil to the surface. Let’s say the episode picks up a week after RATGT, so they’ve walked 56 miles, and it’s D194/TD137.

West Ipsil is stated to be three days from their current location on foot at their usual pace. At Rapunzel’s behest, they walk at “twice their usual pace”, without stopping to eat, drink, or sleep, and manage to arrive in West Ipsil by the evening of the following day. Using 8 miles per day as our estimated average, that would mean they walked for 24 miles with minimal breaks—which would be completely exhausting, but IS physically plausible. (For the sake of comparison, a marathon is 26.2 miles.)

So, they make it to West Ipsil in the evening of D195/TD138, where they meet up with Hook Hand. The following morning they depart West Ipsil in Hook Hand’s wagon, heading for Trevor Jr.’s wedding. [SIDEBAR: while it’s true that TTS geography is…malleable, the people who complain about the nebulous geography by pointing to Brothers Hook are WRONG Trevor Jr.’s wedding is EXPLICITLY STATED to be a destination wedding. Brothers Hook DOES NOT TAKE PLACE IN EQUIS]. It’s a big wagon, so it’s probably slower than the Team Corona wagon; plus it’s unlikely that Hook would’ve played a concert too far away from the wedding venue, so let’s estimate that they travel 10 miles with him. The wedding occurs on D196/TD139, and they presumably continue their journey on foot the next day, D197/TD140. They’ve traveled 90 miles since leaving the Great Tree, and a total of 2,725 miles from Corona.

Again, Rapunzel: Day One lacks any temporal references that would tell us how long they’ve been traveling since TBH. It’s long enough that Cassandra has begun to retrain her injured hand, and for Rapunzel to have become frustrated with Cass’s attitude. They’ve also, I think, gotten down to the foothills of the mountains where the Tree was and found the caravan washed up on the river bank. 2-3 weeks since TBH seems reasonable to me—let’s be generous and say two. That puts the beginning of RDO at D211/TD154, 2,837 miles from Corona.

RDO lasts for about three days, during which they repair the caravan. Thus the episode ends on D214, TD154.

At this point they resume the caravan pace of 20 miles per day. It’s not clear how many days pass between the end of RDO and Mirror Mirror, but I don’t think it would be much more than a few days: at the end of RDO they’d just gotten out of the mountains, and the HOYT seems to still be in the foothills. Let’s say three days, 60 miles. So, the HOYT arc begins D217/TD157, 2,897 miles from Corona.

Mirror Mirror lasts for one night. You’re Kidding Me begins the following morning (D218) and is over by that afternoon. Rapunzeltopia occurs at night, possibly the night of D218, and is over by dawn (D219/TD158).

Lost and Found opens with Team Corona a single day’s travel from the border of the Dark Kingdom; they’ve also been on the road long enough for Eugene to fall for the birthday prank for a second. I generally put this one about 8 months after departure from Corona, and if we go with that that puts LAF about 20 days after they escape the HOYT, so D239/TD178 and another 400 miles, for a total of 3,297 miles from Corona.

Destinies Collide begins the following day (D240/TD179), at border of the Dark Kingdom itself. They’re traveling fast when the episode begins, so let’s say they’ve been going for about 10 miles—putting the exact border of the DK approximately 3,307 miles from Corona.

From that point, the dark fortress is clearly visible at the horizon. Depending on the relative altitude of the bordering cliffs vs the fortress, it’s probably somewhere between 5 and 10 miles from the border.

The caravan rolls off a cliff at the border and they proceed on foot, arriving at the fortress around nightfall, so I figure it’s closer to 5 than 10. Let’s say 6ish. That makes the capital of the Dark Kingdom approximately 3,312 miles, by road, from the capital of Corona. It took Team Corona a total of eight months to get there, or about six if we exclude delays from being stranded or otherwise not traveling. Most of that was in a heavy horse-drawn wagon, though they spent about a month altogether traveling on foot and there is an approximately two hundred mile wide sea between the Coronan and Dark Kingdom continents (so the overland part of the journey is only 3,112-ish miles).

To put that into perspective, the continental United States are about 2,800 miles across from easternmost to westernmost point as the crow flies, but a journey of about 3,550 miles by road. And, as a point of comparison, the Oregon Trail was about 2,200 miles and generally took about 6-7 months, so even with their significant delays Team Corona made pretty decent time, overall averaging—according to my estimates—about 14 miles traveled per day.

Their return journey, by unpowered balloon, is much faster. How fast is a little unclear. However, the record speed for a hot air balloon is 245 miles per hour, and while the Coronan balloon wouldn’t have gotten anywhere close to that—they’re far too heavy—if they had favorable winds they could’ve gone at a pretty fair clip. They also have the advantage of traveling as the crow flies, which I’d estimate could knock as many as 1000 miles off the journey given that they traveled through not one but two mountain ranges en route to the DK. So, let’s say their return flight is about 2,312 miles.

Rapunzel’s Return appears to end at or near Rapunzel’s birthday, if the lanterns are any indication, which would put the return journey around three months and their daily average about 25 miles traveled per day, which seems very reasonable for a heavy westward-traveling balloon.

Edmund arrives in Corona, having traveled alone on horseback from the Dark Kingdom, in the next episode. There’s not a hard temporal reference here, but Corona has been fully repaired from the damage done during the Separatist regime and Rapunzel has settled into her role as acting Queen, so some amount of time has certainly past.

At a DRIVING PACE, a well-conditioned horse can travel at a rate of 50 miles per day, but this is very grueling and not sustainable over very long periods of time. It’s likely that Edmund would have been traveling somewhere closer to 30 or so miles per day. Assuming he caught a boat across the sea, he had 3,112 miles to cover on horseback. It’s likely that he left for Corona within a few days of Team Corona’s departure, so he would have been traveling while they did. Traveling at 30 miles per day on horseback, Edmund’s journey from the Dark Kingdom to Corona would have lasted approximately three and a half months, putting his arrival at the beginning of Return of the King somewhere between two and three weeks after the end of Rapunzel’s Return.

That seems like a reasonable amount of time for all the trash and grime that built up during the Separatist regime to get cleaned up and for Rapunzel to hit her stride as acting queen, and the math all works out pretty logically without requiring any ludicrous fast traveling. Loosely, these numbers also square with the Captain being able to make it all the way to the Demanitus Labyrinth and then back to Terapi Island on (presumably) horseback based on the very rough timeline we have of Events in Corona:

If we assume that Ulf’s journey to the Dark Kingdom, by balloon, also took about three months, then that puts the Saporian coup loosely between EOP and RATGT. The Captain would have left around the same time to search for Rapunzel, slowly retracing the caravan’s path. We know that Cassandra continues to hang around the Labyrinth region for quite some time while she struggles to regain control of the moonstone’s power, and that the events of Be Very Afraid evidently convince her (or Zhan Tiri) that she needs extra help in the form of the incantations in the Great Tree. It’s not clear exactly when the Captain’s flashback in Islands Apart occurs in relation to BVA and Cassandra’s arrival at the Great Tree in IA, but my thinking is that the flashback actually happens AFTER Beginnings but BEFORE Be Very Afraid—in Beginnings, Cassandra is still east of the Labyrinth, kicking around the ruined caravan. Assuming she’s been gradually drifting westward since getting the moonstone, she would have been within a day’s walk of the labyrinth at that point, and the IA flashback confrontation would give fuel to her wavering conviction and anxiety at the beginning of BVA.

So, all of that gives the Captain somewhere around 6-7 months to make it to the Labyrinth, where he comes face to face with Cassandra and is briefly trapped—super plausible for a man on horseback searching for someone whose location he doesn’t know. From there, he would have to travel about 2,592 miles to get back to the coast, whereupon he could hop a ferry and be on Terapi in a day. Riding fast—at a rate of 40 miles per day—he could cover that distance in a little over two months. He spends an unknown number of days digging for the wishing well’s coin, then makes his wish eight days before Rapunzel and Eugene arrive on the island. (By powered balloon, using previous estimate of 30 mph, they could have traveled the 250-or-so miles as the crow flies to Terapi from Corona in about eight hours. This tracks with their midday departure and arrival late in the night.)

All of this would put Island Apart ROUGHLY eight or nine months after the Saporian takeover, five or six months after Destinies Collide, and two or three months after the end of Rapunzel’s Return; and Cassandra’s Return would have to be—if we assume that after Islands Apart Cass booked it to Corona by walking at the very brisk pace of 20 miles per day and again hopped a boat across the sea—another four or so months later. Making the entire first half of S3, from the time of Rapunzel’s arrival in Corona to the midseason, about six or seven months.

…ANYWAY I’M DRIFTING AWAY FROM THE ACTUAL POINT OF ALL THIS WHICH IS TO SAY:

it’s not actually that far from the DK to corona. a significant distance for sure, but one that can be traveled on horseback in 3-4 months with relative ease if you’ve got the money for supplies. weather does not seem to be a problem and given chameleons live in corona we’re probably looking at a fairly low latitude, without much seasonal variation, and the dark kingdom seems to be only a little further north. so bad winters are clearly not a significant issue when making this journey.

it makes sense to me to assume that the residents of the dark kingdom would have wanted to get the fuck away from the black rocks, hence going as far as they possibly could from the dark kingdom, hence a lot of them likely ultimately ended up on the west coast—either in the lombard region, or for the ones who really wanted to get away, sailing across that sea to settle on the west coast in the corona/equis region.

i’ll bet that eugene’s wet nurse was acting on orders from edmund to get his infant son AS FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE, because ultimately what edmund wanted was to save his son from being trapped as the moonstone’s guardian. assuming there’s not another continent somewhere far to the west of corona (or at least, none discovered), corona is quite literally as far as it’s possible to get from the dark kingdom, and thus the last possible stop for anyone fleeing the dark kingdom.

personally, though? i figure she didn’t quite make it. eugene didn’t grow up in corona—he grew up in vardaros, just 140 or so miles from corona. (the series is a bit murky on this but recall that eugene in the film is clearly familiar with but not from corona, and that eugene in the series was a teenager when he was engaged to stalyan in vardaros, hence likely grew up there.) and… well, while the journey from the dark kingdom is certainly doable for anyone with a horse and enough money for supplies, and the wet nurse of a prince would certainly have had both of those things, there’s still a lot of things that can go wrong when you’re fleeing across a whole continent and i think the most logical explanation for how eugene ended up in an orphanage in vardaros with a different name from the one his parents gave him is that the woman who was tasked with taking care of him died. (or, given that it happened in or near vardaros, got murdered lmao). and then he just became a foundling child and taken to an orphanage.

( not in bitter snow, though. basically with bitter snow eugene the plan was for him to be raised by the three most trusted knights of the brotherhood—quirin, adira, hector—and that uh. WENT AWRY. because they had a very nasty falling out and parted ways, and the baby prince ended up in care of adira "i cannot take care of this toddler i need to find the sundrop" sólyom, who promptly changed his name and dumped her two year old prince in an orphanage like Good Luck Kiddo ghskdfhg )

( has adira made the eugene fitzherbert = prince liron connection yet no because she's the WORST at names, doesn't know eugene's name, and has forgotten what fake name she gave the baby. )

[scotianostra]

On February 7th 1979 12,000 players and spectators took to  the frozen Lake of Menteith for Scotland's only outdoor curling tournament, known as the Bonspiel or the Grand Match.

The Bonspiel - dates back to January 15 1847, when moving stones glided over the high pond at Penicuik House estate.  Then, the club from Currie claimed the high score of 238 while the team from Bridge of Allan were named the losers of the day.

The sport, first played in Scotland almost 500 years ago, became the country’s most popular game during the 19th Century with more than 2,000 lochs and ponds in Scotland drawing people to the ice over the cold winters. Every year, the Royal Caledonian Curling Club draws up a contingency plan amid hope that the Grand Match can be played outdoors once again.

There were once around 2,000 outdoor curling ponds in Scotland

Drills are used to examine the condition of the pond ice to insure conditions are safe for play. In the past, six inches tended to suffice, although this has increased to seven in recent times.

In 2010, the Grand Match was poised to go ahead at Lake of Menteith with the ice meeting the needed regulation thickness However, the event was cancelled due to objections of the emergency services and Stirling Council, with the association, having not executed a Grand Match for more than 30 years, unable to meet modern health and safety requirements in time. The RCCC as a result was unable to get insurance for the event although hundreds of players took to the ice in defiance of the police and ambulance service. Since then a committee has met every year to put in place the necessary plan for the fixture should the temperature sufficiently fall away. Curling has been played in Scotland since at least1541 with the notary John McQuihin recording a challenge of throwing stones across the ice between a monk in Paisley Abbey and a relative of the Abbot. Scotland and the Low Countries have both laid claim to being the originators of the sport. Some say that Scotland’s wealth of the key raw material required by the game - hard igneous rock - makes it more clear where the game was born.

However, the association said it was “emphatically” the case that curling was the Scottish game during the first two thirds of the 19th Century. Then, it was the most popular sport in the country when colder temperatures made the game part of life in Scotland for many.

Poets of Kirkcudbrightshire, Renfrewshire and Lanarkshire celebrated the game in published poems with Robert Burns referencing the game in his verse The Vision:

The sun had clos’d the winter day, The Curlers quat their roaring play…

And n Tam Samson’s Elegy the poet displays great familiarity with the game.”

He was the king o’ a’ the core. To guard or draw or wick a bore, Or up the rink like Jehu roar In time o’ need. But now he lags on death’s hog-score. Tam Samson’s dead.

With the second poem, and it’s knowledge of the game it is thought that Burns probably played the game himself. 

In Sir John Sinclair’s Statistical Account of Scotland (1781 – 1799), the sport is mentioned in several accounts of parish life. One, from the minister of Muirkirk in Ayrshire, said.... 

“Their chief amusement in winter is curling, or playing stones on smooth ice. “They eagerly vie with one another who shall come nearest the mark, and one part of the parish against another, one description of men against another, one trade or occupation against another, and often one whole parish against another, – earnestly contend for the palm, which is generally all the prize, except that perhaps the victors claim from the vanquished the dinner and bowl of toddy, which, to do them justice, both commonly take together with great cordiality, and generally without any grudge at the fortune of the day.”

The video I have posted is a short clip from 1979 but there is a great 15 minute video of the 1979 Grand Match from the National Library of Scotland  here https://movingimage.nls.uk/film/3127

[sun-geekomancer]

Apothecaria RPG (Week 1 Day 2)

Headed into the Lochs this morning. I wanted to get in there before it warmed up and the bugs started swarming. On the way out the door, I could have slapped myself. I forgot about Driftwood Memories. Thank goodness I remembered, or I might have been stuck searching the Lochs for days until I found that Seamonster. So I left the house in good spirits, but with a slightly bruised ego that I had forgotten such an easy ingredient. Well, no sooner than I had captured a few of the guppies than did I heard the bark of a cù-sìth. Awful luck. Not only do I dislike canines in general, but I hate being chased by dogs so very much. I ended up crammed in a half-submerged, tiny cave that even I was barely able to squeeze into. Just my boots, pants, and underwear sitting in loch water for hours until the thing finally left. I can't help but feel bitter that I finally remembered an ingredient that would save me a bunch of time, but ended up wasting almost an entire day sitting in a god-damned loch puddle because a cù-sìth was hunting. If I end up catching a cold, I'm going to be just furious about this whole thing. It was past sundown by the time the hound left my area. Now cold, clammy, and soaked to the bone, I left my hiding spot. A thick mist was beginning to roll across the area. Lucky for me, a ghost ship pulled up right beside me. The sailors aboard called out to me, saying that I looked like death warmed over (groan) and invited me aboard to dry out. They also offered to take me across the loch so I could get home sooner--after all, it was dark out. Not much harm could come to the already-dead, but plenty could come to a solitary person wandering out and about. Indeed, not all ghosts are quite as friendly as these. But, they seem to have ties to local witches in the area, and were happy to do me a favor. I should bake them something as a thank-you at some point.

Drew 6 of Diamonds, checked Meltwater Lochs event table. 6>5. Successfully gathered ingredients. 6: You hear a blood-curdling bark echo out across the loch. A sure sign that a cù-sìth is on the hunt. Legends say you must find a safe place before the third bark or it'll get you. Where do you hide? Decrease Timer by 1. Drew 7 of Spades, checked Meltwater Lochs event table. 7>1. Successfully gathered ingredients. 7: As the sun goes down and mist rises from the loch, you see the shape of a ship rise from the water beside you. The ghostly crew spot you and invite you aboard. Every time you get this result, write about your relationship with these undead sailors and the tall tales they tell you.

[witchyfictional]

Week 7 (SPRING 7/13)

Professional Log of Harper Tobin, Journeyman Witch

Patient: Susan Chert, local geologist

Ailment: Dwarven Lung [cough*] [lungs**] Too much time spent in the mining sites along the foothills near Moonbreaker Mountain, and probably a neglect of proper safety equipment (like breathing masks).

Recommend: Gull-Drake Guano alone will smooth out coughing and clear the lungs (it’s gross but it works), but for Dwarven Cough there tends to be far too much build-up, so this time the lung damage will require something stronger. Raw Dentist Crab gel should be strong enough.

Field Notes:

While catching extra Dentist Crabs I came across a third chest from the underwater pirate wreck, this time full of what might have been incredibly fancy hats - but unfortunately all waterlogged, thanks to a small hole in the corner of the chest.

As I was collecting the Gull-Drake Guano, I spotted a glimmer in the water and thought it might be something nifty, so I went to take a look. It was a small, corked bottle with a rolled up message inside - which is unexpected, what with this being a lake. Why would someone throw a message in a bottle into a lake, where it can’t go anywhere? I opened it to see what it said and the message was as odd as the circumstance, only asking a list of personal questions and requesting a reply. It instructed the finder of this note ot simply toss their reply back into the water to send it back. My curiosity was piqued enough to prompt me into replying - I wonder if it will really get back to its original sender?

I spent the rest of my time at the Loch collecting as many Slime Shells as I could possibly find for the management of Bàs Bàta’s shattered tooth. I was highly successful, despite several very curious incidents (enough for eight doses).

One notable encounter was with a siren I haven’t seen or heard before. I was out on the water when I found it suddenly hard to think, strongly compelled to swim out to some distant rocks toward the sound of singing. The way he sang was somewhere between a human voice and birdsong, strange but wondrously lovely. He stopped abruptly when he saw me and flushed red with shame, immediately falling into apologies. I asked why he was all alone in the Loch - usually sirens travel in flocks, or so I’ve been told, and since the males are rare, I’ve never heard of one traveling without his mates. He hedged around my questions, seeming reluctant to answer, and hastily offered me a Wigfish wig he’d picked up as an apology for interrupting my day. I can’t say no to such quality reagents, so I accepted, but when I looked up again he was already gone with a flurry of his wings.

Baffled, but pleased with my newly acquired prize, I continued with my exploration and came across another stranger - a very kind dwarf out fishing, who invited me into his boat. His name was Raggen Gabbro, and he spoke with me for a good while about his own explorations of the Loch. He seems to know quite a lot, and I appreciated his insight and advice. When we parted, he directed me to where I might find some Gas Weed, which was much appreciated.

I was eventually chased out of the water again by Bàs Bàta’s tortured thrashing. I feel for the creature but I certainly don’t want to be anywhere near it while it’s mad with pain. I hope I can gather enough ingredients to help it, soon. I doubt any human-portioned remedy will be effective. I briefly returned to the huge nest in the rocks that I found last week, and to my delight found that the Amethyst Antler shards were still there among the eggs - but again I was pecked away by the vigilant mama bird before I could grab them.

I spent the rest of my foraging at the Loch following those unidentified footprints all along the shore. I tripped over half-buried items in the sand at least three times along the way - there is a lot of flotsam and junk left by people all over the beach. The upside was that I also found a substantial pile of Deep Reed that had also washed ashore. As the sun set, I spotted the familiar shape of the ghost ship Capybara cresting into the bloody horizon once again, so I got back in my canoe and headed over for a visit. I ended up spending the entire night partying with the raucous spirits, losing track of time so badly that I got unceremoniously dunked in the water at dawn when they retreated again beneath the waves.

When I swam back to shore, I stubbed my toe on something half buried in the wet sand. When I dug it up and rinsed it in the waves, I was startled to find a small, empty box carved from ancient coral. It looked extremely old, crusted a little with the fossils of other sealife around the edges. The strangest part was that I saw, carved into the inner lid of it, a sigil - the same sigil printed on all the leftover containers and equipment in my Apothecary. Kevyn’s personal sigil.

Except this time, in addition to the signature swirling pattern, there was a word engraved around the symbol - “Orendal.” If this were written anywhere else, I would have taken this for something in a language I didn’t understand…But the way this was written matches too exactly with the way ancient master witches left their marks. Nowadays people tend to forego the name and only leave the sigil, but in more ancient times they almost always used both, according to my studies. “Orendal” is almost certainly a name...although why it’s written along with Kevyn’s personal sigil is a mystery to me. It can’t be that Kevyn copied the sigil - every witch must have their own, and every one must be unique, like a fingerprint.

When I retuned home, I compared it to the versions I have around the cottage, and confirmed - this is absolutely Kevyn’s sigil, but for some reason paired with a different name. Could “Orendal” actually be Kevyn’s real name? Or perhaps, a previous name he’s long since left behind? But if so, how on earth did it come to be on such an incredibly ancient object? I had no time to fully dwell on this, since I still had a remedy to make, but I set the box in a safe place to contemplate at a later time.

“Cough Quencher”

Crush the dried Gull-Drake guano into fine dust

Boil the the resulting powder and strain well

Spoon in raw Dentist Crab claw gell until the mixture thickens and smooths

End result should be something like a vaguely fishy yogurt

Paid: 30 silver Despite the strange taste, it works fast, and Susan was already breathing better as she left.

Additional Notes:

I spent the next several days going back up the mountain and repairing Dwayne the stone golem, and at last I deemed him fully healed, to the best of my ability. He can’t speak, but he seemed very grateful, and  nearly crushed me in an earnest but uncomfortable hug. Unexpectedly, he ended up following me back down the mountain. I didn’t protest, as long as he was careful where he stepped, although I wasn’t sure what more he wanted of me. After a complicated game of pantomime, I gathered that he wanted to stay with me and repay me for my help. I certainly don’t mind the company, so I agreed, and was able to direct him to an uncluttered portion of the land left to me by Kevyn. I’ll have to teach him to write if we want any extensive conversations, though.

I also went to Hero’s Hollow this week in search of powerful painkillers, and with Shadow’s help I was able to procure a bit of Vampire Venom without issue. While sneaking away from the coffin room I did end up triggering a trap and falling into a stone cell for a while, which was frustrating, but I was thankfully rescued not long after. A beautiful woman with hair like spilled ink and eyes like pale glass showed up and looked in on me, calling down to ask if I needed help. I expected her to throw down a rope, but instead I found myself levitating all the way back to the top to greet her. Her skin was a deep cerulean blue. She wore a lavishly embroidered gown and glittered with gems and jewelry, looking as elegant as a queen - which is certainly not what I expected in a dungeon.

I thanked her for her help, and she asked what my business was in the Hollow. I could have asked her the same, but instead I told her I was looking for ingredients to create a remedy for Bàs Bàta. I guess this was the right thing to say, because she immediately turned from aloof and suspicious to charming and courteous. She introduced herself as Yeza, Dark Ruler of the Underlands and Master of Shadows. It was quite a title, and I suddenly felt silly and shabby, but she was very sweet to me from then on. She apologized for the inconvenience of my falling into one of the many traps, and invited me for dinner in her throne room. I’ve never been in a throne room before.

I follower her safely through the deepest parts of her domain - protected from its various threats only by her presence, I suspect - and we entered a much more lavish and elegant wing of the Hollows than I ever imagined was there. It was less “dank dungeon” and more like a hidden underground palace. She clapped her hands for attendants and we were served one of the strangest and yet most decadent meals I have ever eaten. We ended up getting along very well. I told her of my explorations in the Hollow and how I’ve helped people with the things I’ve collected, and she was surprisingly eager to assist in my endeavors. She said the last witch, Kevyn, had been too obsessed with his own convoluted dealings, and never would have wanted to help poor Bàs Bàta. Apparently Kevyn hated Bàs Bàta, but when I asked her why she kept changing the subject.

She asked if I’ve ever met someone like her before - blue, that is - and I said no. She asked if I’ve ever heard of something called the Strange, and I said no again. She said that she wanted to help me by granting me passage to her original home plane, for the purpose of finding other kinds of reagents that might be useful to me, and I got extremely excited. I’ve read about the possible existence of other planes but never dreamed I’d get to see one in person. When we finished dinner, she led me back up into the shabbier side of the Hollow and showed me the way to an incongruous fancy archway standing empty and useless in the middle of a hall. After Yeza chanted a while in a language I couldn’t understand, the empty air beneath the arch began to swirl with deep blue and violet-black light

This is the portal to the Strange.

I wanted to explore it right away, but for once my better sense held me back, and I told Yeza that I would rather return with the proper equipment for a full expedition. She wrote down instructions on a scrap of parchment to instruct me on how to open the portal myself, for which I thanked her profusely, and we parted ways. I cannot wait to actually go through, when I can set aside the time. I am absolutely thrilled.

OOC: Rep – 12 [Intermediate] Silver – 126 Tools – basics / coracle Familiar skill – Hunter (-3 Animal reagent rarity) Golem Helper – getting settled Upgrades – garden plot (x1; Surgeon Sap)

Surplus reagents: ** Surgeon Sap [wound] [burn] [+1s]  — (freely available) *** Amethyst Antlers [magic] [curse] [mood] — (x1) ~Candy Rock [+4s] — (x1) * Deep Reed [ear] [blood] [stomach] — (x1) ** Dentist Crabs [teeth] [mouth] [lungs] [infection] — (x1) ** Foot Fungus [burn] [boils] [rash] [+2p] — (x1) *** Fossil Fish [time] [magic] — (x1) * Gas Weed [lungs] — (x1) *** Ghost Goo [spirit] [curse] — (x1) ** Glittersnow [curse] [magic] — (x1) * Hermit Snails [wound] [bones] — (x1) *** Innocent’s Suffering [pain] [sleep] [nerves] [wound] — (x1) ! *** Jumpkin [stomach] [cold] — (x1) ** Milkstone [teeth] [pain] — (x1) *** Moon Moss [blood] [curse] — (x1) ** Princess Toad [wart] [rash] [mood] — (x1) * Scramble Bramble [mood] [senses] [+1p] — (x1) ** Shockfish [nerves] [pain] [boils] — (x1) * Silverleaf [infection] [rash] — (x1) * Skullcap [poison] [pain] — (x2) ** Slime Shells [parasite] [infection] [blood] — (x10) *** Vampire Venom [curse] [pain] [mood] — (x1) *** Wigfish [mood] [sleep] [hair] — (x2)

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 4 part 3

After my hectic experience with the marshbloom, I decided to take a day for myself. Greenmoor isn’t anywhere near the ocean, but Meltwater Loch is big enough that I figured a day spent there could be considered a beach day. And after the couple of weeks I’d had, boy did I need a beach day.

But anyone who’s read this far ought to be familiar with my luck by now. There’s a lot to record, but I’ll try to get it down in order.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

It was a beautiful day—clear blue sky, warm air, and (at least when I first arrived) no one around at Meltwater Loch. I spread out a towel on the beach and laid down for a good session of sunbathing. I’ve never been one for tanning, but  simply laying doing nothing while being warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze felt absolutely decadent.

After a while of simply existing, I became aware of the sound of a bird calling above me. I cracked my eyes open and recognized the large forms of a pair of gull-drakes flying overhead. Gull-drakes are a strange hybrid, both reptilian and avian. Their torsos and wings are feathered, while their heads, tails, and talons are scaled. They do have beaks like gulls, but their tails are prehensile like their alleged draconic ancestors’. I say ‘alleged’ because no one knows how the hybrid gull-drake came into being. The sheer anatomy and scale discrepancy between the average seagull and the average dragon fossil (they were much larger in ancient times than the pocket-sized lizards we have today) seems to rule out any cross-breeding. Additionally, the typical combination of traits displayed by gull-drakes is too awkward and ungainly to be the result of natural selection. And yet, there have been records of the gull-drake’s existence for just about as long as there have been records—the third-oldest surviving written document, in fact, is a bestiary which includes them along dozens of other species, most of which are now extinct.

Nature is a strange thing.

Digressions aside, there was a reason this caught my attention. Gull-drakes are scavengers, and have been known to leave catches uneaten while they go out to hunt for more. It’s just an evolutionary quirk—they prefer to feast only once per day. This means that, as they leave their nests unattended, some other opportunistic creature could come by and steal their catch. 

It’s easy to identify a gull-drake nest, too—they tend to be very large, and are often positioned balanced atop large, pointy rocks. If a gull-drake catches you stealing, though, it’ll chase you and squawk at you and try to peck you until you drop the stolen goods and flee. They’re not too smart, though, so hiding in nearby foliage (say, a patch of large ferns) will fool them easily.

All of this to say, I managed to get myself a shock fish without a rod, all while only getting chased a little ways by a jealous, stupid bird.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

As I returned to my towel, I heard an unusual sound—the put-put-put of a motor. Machinery of that kind is a fairly new invention, and unless you know how to make it, very expensive.

The woman driving the boat certainly looked like she knew how to make a motor. She was dwarven, with russet hair and a long beard, both held in thick braids. She was (as dwarves are) rather short—I'd estimate maybe one-and-a-fifth meters tall, and nearly as wide—with large hands and feet, and limbs thickly corded with muscle. She wore dark green coveralls and had a fairly heavy-duty fishing rod held in one hand so that it rested on her shoulder.

She shut the motor off as she neared and called out to me, asking if I was the village witch. I said that I was, and she told me that she was friends with my crocodilian patient. She thanked me for helping him, and said he would have been a goner without my potion-making skills. I demurred just a bit, saying I wasn't the only healer who helped him that day. She scoffed and dismissed my humility outright, saying that I might as well have been the only one—that without my care the village doctor wouldn't have been able to do anything.

She introduced herself as Janneth Hillhorn, and I told her my name in turn. She asked what I was doing out by Meltwater Loch and I told her I was taking a day off. She let me know that her cottage was just around the other side of the lake, near Glimmerwood Grove and right on the border of Blastfire Bog, and that I should feel free to stop in any time. I thanked her.

At this point, there was a tremor in the water. It couldn't have been an earthquake because the land wasn't shaking, but the water abruptly became much more active. Ocean-like waves crashed into the shore and Janneth held tight onto the sides of her boat, doing her best not to capsize. I would have been quite alarmed in her situation, but Janneth barely seemed preturbed. I asked something along the lines of "what the blight is going on?!" As the water settled, Janneth told me that this was a common occurence on Meltwater Loch, a quirk that—many said—was due to the emotions of its guardian sea-dragon, Bàs Bàta. I found this explanation rather silly, reminiscent of an old wives' tale. I'd never heard of a sea-dragon before, and given that the name ‘Bàs Bàta’ directly translated to "boat death," I figured it was just a local story told to frighten children and dismissed it out of hand.

Astute readers should be growing worried for me right about now.

Janneth offered to give me one of the fish she'd caught as a thanks for helping her friend. I initially refused, but she insisted. She looked through her basket and pulled out a dentist crab. The gel their claws produce is good for the mouth and plenty else besides, so I accepted and thanked her. She thanked me right back and said (perhaps jokingly?) not to run afoul of Bàs Bàta while I was out by the loch. I forced a laugh as she sped away.

Once she was out of sight, I collected some claw gel from the dentist crab and released it back into the water.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

There was another rumbling as I made my way back to the beach, and as it abated I saw something bob up to the surface of the water close to the shore. It presented itself, et cetera et cetera, I waded in to see what it was.

I scooped it out of the water and found myself holding a glass bottle, like the kind that rum or sweet wine would come in, sealed with a cork and containing a rolled-up sheet of paper. Of course, I opened it immediately. I found that the sheet inside wasn’t quite *paper,* but something more slippery—maybe made of seaweed? It did have writing on it, though. As I unfurled it, a few things that looked like pebbles fell out. I barely managed to catch them before they hit the surface of the water. I put them in my pocket for safe keeping.

The writing on the note was as follows, with no spelling changes by me:

Let it be known that I fink this whole exercise is stupid. And pointless. And probly meant as some kind of sick, twisted punishment. No one but little kids believe in terrafolk, so I don’t know why the instructress is making us do this.

Even if anyfing could live above the water, there’s no way its advanced enough to read. How would it get all the minerals it needs wivout processing the water?

But anyway. I guess I ave to fulfill the prompt. 

Me name is Genoveva, I live in the I.S.A.C.S. (that's short for 'Isolated Sovereign Aquatic City-State, but we all just pronounce it like 'Isax") and I’m in the fifth year of me education. I hate me name. I wish I could ave somefing exotic like a John or a Steve or a Sarah, but I’m stuck wiv boring old Genoveva. If you’re somehow able to read this, that must mean you ave schools on the surface, too. Wat ar they like? Ar they as boring up there? We all ave to sit in a circle and listen to the instructress drone on and on and on.

I live wiv me merma and me perpa and me two baby brothers. Do you ave family? I've got loads of cousins too.

On the rubric it says I ave to include a small gift, so I'm putting some fossil fish scales in wiv this letter. I found em on me way to school this morning and there not of use to me, but I figure you probly don't ave fish on land so maybe scales ar valuable up there.

If you're inclined to write back (no pressure), you can just pop your note in the bottle and put it back into the water. It'll find its way to me—there's magic all around, don't you know.

Signed,

Genoveva Galbrait, 5th year

[An accessible version of this letter can be found here.]

The letter obviously has some pretty complex implications. An entire society under the surface of Meltwater Loch, entirely unaware of the world above the surface beyond fairy stories? What must life be like down there? What kind of society must they have? How do they supply food? Get rid of waste?

What resources might be available there that can't be found on the surface?

I decided that somehow I was going to find a way to visit ISACS, and learn everything I could about it. I bet that would impress the University of Arcbridge. I wasn't sure how I would breathe under the water for long enough, but I was determined to find a way.

Take your final guesses now what happened next.

That water-quaking started up again, this time stronger than before. Waves crashed against the beach where I stood, and I felt a great vibration in my chest and in my head. 

And then, it broke the surface of the water.

Giant and blue-green and serpentine, Bàs Bàta rose up before me. A blighting sea-dragon, it stood straight up in the air at least twice as tall as my cottage—and that was just the part of its body I could see. Its head was shaped like the tip of an arrow, with three great spikes sprouting out of the back (the outer two longer than the middle one). It let loose another deep roar, dousing me in spittle. It thrashed about, causing great waves to crash onto the shore, and through my shock I realized its movements might be less characteristic of anger than of pain.

My suspicions were confirmed when it roared again: one of the fangs right near the front of its mouth was missing a chip, and had a great crack running nearly all the way up to the root. That had to hurt. I'd never treated a non-humanoid  before—or, for that matter, a cracked tooth—but I realized even past the moral obligation to help, there was no way I could access the underwater city-state without calming Bàs Bàta down.

I found out later, after I'd scrambled away from the lake and sprinted back to the cottage, after wiping the saliva off of me and getting at least some of it in a bottle for potion use, that the saliva was actually a really useful ingredient in treating shattered teeth. As it turns out, it's a pretty strong painkiller. Unfortunately, I knew I'd need more than just that to make a cure, and with the sheer size of Bàs Bàta, I suspected I'd need to make more than one potion.

That will have to be a longer term project, then, because the events of my relaxation day have worn me out. I've got to get to bed. We'll see what tomorrow brings.

⇦●〇●⇨

[marypsue]

You all definitely wanted a sneak preview of the sequel to the kids aren’t alright, you just didn’t know it yet.

...

So far, the town of Hawkins, Indiana has not impressed Max Mayfield much.

She’s not Billy – she’s not offended by the sheer fact of Hawkins’ existence, let alone its having the audacity to exist in the same space as her. The arcade’s okay, though the game selection is small and mostly out of date. And the pack of stalkers who’ve latched onto her seem like they’re pretty alright. As stalkers go.

But there’s really nowhere good to ride her board, and the dinky movie theatre downtown’s still playing shows that are nearly a month old instead of anything that came out this week. And the handful of girls she’s met here so far have been really prissy, and snotty about her board and her clothes and her nickname. And she can’t hear the surf or see the water stretching all the way out to the horizon or dig her toes in the sun-warmed sand or even have a seagull steal her fries out of her hand on the boardwalk. And all her friends and her dad and her favourite aunt are all back in California and she’s stuck here, in the armpit of Indiana, with Billy and Neil.

As far as Max is concerned, the pros of moving to Hawkins have not in any way outweighed the cons.

Still, she wouldn’t have made it this far in life if she hadn’t figured out, pretty early on, how to roll with the punches. And when to come back up swinging.

It’s chilly, here, in the dark, on the last night of October. Max tucks her hands under her arms and stamps her feet, wishing she’d worn something a little thicker under her navy blue hoodie. The rubber Michael Myers mask somehow managed to both be hot and uncomfortable and to not warm any part of her up, at all.

Add one to the minus column for Hawkins: the cold.

“Are they even coming?” she asks, and Stalker #2 – Dustin – gives her a look that makes her think of an irritated puppy. One who’s about to start shredding shoes if he doesn’t get some attention.

“They said they’d be here.”

“Yeah, like half an hour ago.”

“It’s been thirteen minutes,” Stalker #1 – Lucas – points out, like Max was actually keeping track.

“Which is twelve minutes longer than we should’ve waited. Come on. All the good candy’s gonna be gone by the time we get out there.”

“Wait, I see them!” Dustin crows, turning and rising up on his toes, waving one arm enthusiastically over his head at the two skinny, pale, dark-haired junior Ghostbusters and the walking white sheet with them who’re coming around the corner. Max still isn’t totally convinced that Stalkers #3 and #4 – Mike and Will – aren’t secretly twins, separated at birth. They’re definitely joined at the hip enough. Except for the fact that Will seems like he might be an actual human being, while Mike acts like a complete troll in a stolen human skin every time he’s around her, Max would have a hard time keeping their names straight.

Maybe if they didn’t have, like, the exact same terrible bowl cut.

“I see what took you so long,” Max says, looking over at the third kid, the one in the sheet. She has absolutely no idea who it could be. At school, these four seem to keep pretty much to themselves. A younger sibling, maybe? A tall younger sibling? “Did you have a lot of trouble busting this fearsome ghost?”

Nobody seems to fully appreciate her brilliant joke. Nobody really says anything, either, just shoot a bunch of meaningful, glowering looks around at each other, and Dustin says, “Mike,” like it’s a warning.

Honestly. Boys.

“Hi. I’m Max,” Max says, to the kid in the sheet, ignoring the stalker squad’s latest weirdness. “Short for Maxine. Max Mayfield. I just moved from California.”

Sheet Kid just stands there. It’s a little hard to tell, with the cut-out eyeholes, but Max thinks whoever it is is just staring at her.

“El,” the kid says, at last, and huh. It’s a girl. “Short for -”

“Eleanor!” Mike interrupts, squeaking a little on the second syllable. “Short for Eleanor.”

Sheet Kid – El – twists her whole upper body to look at him. Even without being able to see her face, Max can read the flat, deadpan sarcasm in the move.

She likes Sheet Kid already.

“Yes. Eleanor,” Sheet Kid says, like she’s talking to a particularly slow kindergartner. “I was going to say that, Mike.”

“Yeah, Mike,” Max agrees. “She can talk for herself.” She looks back over at Sheet Kid – El – and asks, “So, El. Do you go to our school? I can’t tell if I’ve seen you around before. With the…sheet.”

“Ghost,” El says, matter-of-fact. A little weird, but whatever.

“She’s, uh, homeschooled,” Mike interrupts, again.

Max looks over at El, who just stares back. “Yes. I do school at home.”

That is the weirdest way Max has ever heard anybody say they’re homeschooled. But, well…she’s homeschooled.

And all of a sudden, everything clicks. The sheet, the weird way this girl talks, the old-fashioned name, the fact that none of the boys have even mentioned her before now, the death glares they were all shooting each other when she showed up…

This is rural Indiana. Home of weirdo fundie cranks. El probably isn’t even supposed to be here tonight. Probably her parents think Halloween is ‘devil worship’, or something stupid like that. Max wonders if El’s ever even been trick-or-treating before, or if this is her first time.

Well. If it is…then Max is going to help make it memorable.

“Okay. You wanna get this party started?” she asks El, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “I heard they give out full-sized candy bars over in Loch Nora. Wherever that is.”

There’s a moment, during which Max gets the sense that El’s giving this all the consideration of someone standing with a hand poised over the big red button, before her sheet bobs in a nod. “Yes.”

Max so does not need any more permission than that. “Cool. Come on!”