Film-making in this world has come a long way. We’ve gone from marveling at the technical wizardry involved to actually focusing on the story being told.
Here is a new video by Mark O’Dwyer, a digital media design student at the University of Limerick, which was “filmed” primarily in New Toulouse… (Thanks to Miz Gabi for bringing this to my attention.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=mt9wwV59i5E
Communication from one time period to another has not made the great advances in recent years that some had forecast. We have not come far from the days when a time traveller who wanted to send a message back home or to a friend or business associate in another age, would have to travel to the age in question and use the communication network available in that time.
While the process has changed little there is an alternative to one making the trek one’s self. This is all leading up to a favor I promised…
My cousin, Robbie, asked that I put in a plug for his new business venture, Time Messengers. I copied the text from his recent newspaper advertisement and reprint it here. You are under no obligation.
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advert.
Time Messengers
With hundreds of offices conveniently located throughout the ages., Time Messengers is your one-stop, full service courier. We deliver for you – even if your message must arrive BEFORE it was written. When it absolutely, positively must get to the future or the past, choose Time Messengers!
Robertson Whitfield, prop.
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I must admit, this is a very handy service. I wish I had thought of it.
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Editor’s note: You can join the group, Time Messengers, inworld in Second Life. It is total RP, no actual services are provided.
Winterfell Takes Caledon, 3-1
by Danko Whitfield
Winterfell Mourning Crier
After a devastating loss to the New Babbage Steamers last week, the Winterfell Elves rebounded to take the Caledon Victorians 3 to 1 in a match in SouthEnd on Friday night last. The go-ahead goal was scored by the Elves’ captain, Wildstar Beaumont.
“We played ‘em tough, we really showed ‘em who we are,” declared coach Serra of Winterfell. Referring to last year’s rout by Caledon in a match in Anodyne, after which some observers questioned the toughness of the Winterfell team, Coach Serra declared, ”Tough? We showed ‘em who’s tough. What do they think we are? A bunch of fairies?”
The spring football (soccer) “short season” wraps up this week when the Elves play the Salmons at Steelhead.
The note didn’t tell me much about our meeting place. When I first read the word ‘Sanctuary’ I thought my cousin Robertson wanted to meet me in the north of Winterfell. But the place he referred to was another place known as Sanctuary, a much different place in another time.
It was the 26th century here and yet the surroundings had a strangely familiar feel. Although my Victorian style of dress was different than the people I passed by, they did not seem completely miffed as they glanced my way, though glance they did. Still, it was a glance not a stare. I stopped to ask directions to Crazy Ivan’s bar. The man I asked seemed a bit surprised by my question but just a bit. His own clothing was more rustic, a la Wyatt Earp but with a dash of Buck Rogers, as odd as that may sound.
Sanctuary is a frontier town, if town is the right word. ‘Settlement’ might be better. There were tents along my route, gathered together not far from my arrival point which was in a very large stone building which I did not have time to explore.
I found my way through the brush and hills to Crazy Ivan’s, a large establishment in the middle of nowhere. There was a man outside who seemed to be standing guard though he paid me no attention as I walked up the steps and entered. Loud music with a heavy beat surged through the place, pulsing across the floor. The bar was empty except for a woman dancing on the stage. A beautiful, scantily clad woman, dancing around a pole. My grandfather would have described her as an exotic dancer. An apt description.
I sat myself down at the bar and waited for a bartender to show but none did. After a while, the dancer called out a hello which I returned. The guard appeared to have left his post or resumed his patrol, so it was now just the dancer and me. She left the stage and came over to the bar and offered to fix me a drink but mentioned she had not done that sort of thing for awhile. I thanked her but stated I would fix my own and that I was sorry to interrupt her dance, which I was. I had enjoyed watching her. She smiled and returned to the dance pole.
She continued to talk with me as she danced, revealing more of herself by her actions and her words. She removed her top, leaving only a skimpy undergarment between her breasts and my eyes. As she did so she told me that she was not working in the bar, just practicing. The exotic dancing was her hobby, a chance to “cut loose” from her real job.
She asked me to guess what that real job might be. As a man of science, I am not a big fan of guessing games. But the lady was beautiful and I did not wish to break her focus on her hobby. I asked a question or two, trying to narrow down the possibilities. Just then another woman walked in and introduced herself as Jacquie, a hostess at the bar. I figured this was the end of my conversation with the dancer and of her dance as well. I was wrong.
She continued dancing and there was some small talk amongst the three of us when a man entered the bar. He gave hellos all around and proceeded straight to the far corner of the bar, behind a screen. Jacquie joined him there. It was as if they were expecting to meet. The dancer continued to do her thing, announcing she would remove an article of clothing for every new person that entered the bar. I looked up from my drink to see her remove her tiny skirt, revealing a g-string. As I watched her gyrate around the dance pole I heard the sounds of sex coming from behind the screen where Jacquie and the gentleman had gone.
This was just a place I’d come to have a drink, a resting spot on my way to meet Robbie. I hadn’t expected any of this. Robbie hadn’t told me anything about the place other than it was the only place to stop and that most of the people here were friendly but to be wary as you never knew who might come in. At this point, “friendly” seemed an understatement. Or was I to be wary of these people? Or maybe the “wary” warning explained the guard.
The dancer asked if I had given up on guessing her occupation. “No,” I stammered, having been distracted by all that lay before me, “no. Ah…” Before I could pose a new question she stated, “I am the local coroner.” Ah, a woman of science!
Another man arrived and took one of the ringside seats along the stage. The music churned on, the dancer did too, removing her bra, the sexual encounter in the corner behind the screen continued. I sat there, a bit stunned, sipping my drink and gazing upon the dancer’s breasts.
The man sitting by the stage got up and left. He had only been there a few minutes and hadn’t said anything. Once he was out the door, the dancer removed her g-string. She wore just stockings and boots now. Her long, red hair flowed through the air as she danced around the pole. I looked her up and down, it was impossible to do otherwise. I had never seen a coroner naked before. A coroner sees you naked, you don’t see a coroner naked. It had never even occurred to me that coroners got naked.
Now Jacquie and the gentleman, whom she referred to as FireStorm, came out from behind the screen, sat at a table and rejoined the conversation. I mostly listened to the others at this point, not wishing to say too much but jumping in from time to time for I did not wish to say too little either. I was trying to be low key in what was very surely not a low key kind of place.
Finally the dancer stopped and began to dress. Our little crowd applauded her. “Helluva show, Doc.” I hollered. “Thank you. And it’s Miss Emer if you please. ‘Doc’ can give people the wrong idea.” She said her goodbyes to the others and had to pass by me on her way out. She stopped and, glancing at my clothing, asked if I was of nobility. “Well, I do have a title back home,” I offered, as matter-of-factly as I could. “Oh, that’s great,” she said, “I always love to talk with nobility.” I just smiled, not knowing what to say and not wanting to give any indication how out of place I felt. For Robbie had told me that time travel was not known in this world, so there was no way I could tell of my real home back in Winterfell. “And where is ‘back home?’” she asked, the question sounding more coroner or investigator than dancer. “Persephone,” I answered, without missing a beat. It was the answer Robbie had given me, should I need it. “Persephone! Well, you are a bit beyond your orbit, aren’t you?” She said it as a joke but I could tell she was curious. “How shall I address you?” she asked, looking for my title. I didn’t know if there are any Dukes on Persephone so I said, “Oh you can just call me Danko.” But each answer led to a new question. “And what brings you to this part of the ‘Verse, Danko?” she asked. “Just tending to a business matter,” I said, trying to make it sound rather boring. But another question followed. “What type of business?” Trying to put a stop to the questioning, which hit me as being a bit methodical, I lowered my voice. “Oh, a very exciting business,” I said while motioning her to come close so no one would hear. She looked at me, smiling in anticipation. I looked around to be sure no one was paying attention, she looked too. I whispered, “Farming.” Her face went blank. I laughed. She realized my joke and laughed as well. She wished me luck and exited the door.
I was just about to do the same. As I finished my drink, I wondered if I would see that dancer again. Here I was in the middle of some God-forsaken nowhere in the 26th century and yet I had this feeling that is not the last I will see of the naked coroner. Though it seemed unlikely I would see her naked again. After all, how many times does one see a naked coroner in one’s lifetime? Unless, of course, I happened in to Crazy Ivan’s during another of her practice sessions. It then hit me that she used the word ‘practice’ rather than ‘rehearse.’ A dancer would say rehearse but maybe a coroner, a doctor, would say practice. Does a coroner have a practice? I suppose they do. Just not much in the way of return patients. I guess a coroner can’t be one of those doctors who “isn’t taking new patients at this time.” Apparently I had had enough to drink at this point.
I stood up from the bar and Jacquie invited me to join her table but I made my excuses and walked out. I had to move on if I were to meet Robbie by the next day. I thought what a kick he would get out of hearing my story of Crazy Ivan’s but the purpose of our meeting was for me to hear his story. I was quite curious, if not I would not have made this trip. I have been doing a lot of time traveling lately for one who describes himself as semi-retired from the field. But Robbie said it was an important matter. Important enough that he had asked me to come all this way, through space and time. A mater involving the very exciting business of…
Farming.
Sometimes telling the truth is the best way to throw someone off track.
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Editor’s note: The scene above took place in Sanctuary in the Soros sim in Second Life and the places and terms should be familiar to those interested in the Firefly - Serenity stories. You can easily become familiar by searching these names or by joining the Firefly Roleplayers group inworld. It appears this story will continue on these pages.
February 4
Dear Danko,
Was in the neighborhood so stopped into your new town. Sorry to have missed you but I had business in Caledon and was only in for the day.
Handsome little village you have there. Wandered through the buildings as most of the doors were unlocked. So you’re going through with that general store after all, eh? Brother Levon is all excited about it. He said to pass along that he will arrive in Winterfell in a fortnight. Found the shop, saw there were some mens clothing items for sale. Needed something appropriate for the trip to Caledon so I gave you a little business. Am I your first customer? Do I win something? Just kidding.
Walked down to the boathouse to see if there was a way to get across to your castle or the cottage but there was no one around. Went back up the hill and found a bench to sit on and enjoyed the view of the castle for awhile. Castle is very impressive, must be something to live there. Looking forward to the castle-warming party! Do Dukes do that sort of thing?
Stopped in your gallery and looked at the photographs of Winterfell. Very nice. I’ll have to come back when your exhibit opens. Used your office to change into the new clothes I purchased. Very attractive building. Saw another building under construction, what’s that going to be?
Caught the ferry to Cape Wrath and walked by the old family retreat. Wish you had talked with me before you sold it. Eh, probably dreaming there anyway, forget I mentioned it. After finishing my business in Caledon on behalf of the college, took the train down to SouthEnd and am sitting here in your pub, writing this letter and enjoying a pint. Funny, you have a town called Evergreen but your Evergreen Pub is in SouthEnd and the Emerald Inn will be in Evergreen. Shouldn’t you be moving this pub up there? Am I missing something here? Sure you have a good reason.
Well, must close now and catch the train for the trip home. Let me know if you have a grand opening or other festivities, would love to be there for you. Never thought I’d be related to a Duke! Don’t let it go to your head now m’Lord. Ha!
Annie asks if you have read the letters yet? You should write to her when you do. I know you know that but I promised her I’d nudge you. Don’t work too hard, Brother, get your rest. Don’t let this new town take all your time. Get out there and have some fun too. I’m sure there’s a lady friend or two who would be pleased to accompany you. You know what Uncle Manuel always says, take it easy…but take it.
Write soon.
Hudson
It was a cold day to be outside working but there I was, surveying the northern area of Evergreen, looking for the right spot to put a cottage which will be rented out to writers. It will be a nice place in the woods for one to write, think or just chill. The location is along my border with Mourning Wood, a territory of woods, water and the impressive Carenduna, home of Lady Rachel’s family.
I ventured across the boundary and into my neighbor’s south woods. As I walked, both the view of Carenduna ahead of me and of my village behind were enhanced by the woods around me and the twilight Winterfell sky. Then I glanced to my right and saw my home, Evergreen Castle, in the distance. It just doesn’t get any better than this. What a beautiful spot.
Lady Rachel has spoken of her north woods several times and I realized that was my destination. I walked up to her large home and past it, headed for the path to those woods. Every step along the way, marveling at the beauty of it all.
The north woods featured some small structures including a cabin and a MAGE portal, available to the public. As a time traveller, I have used such devices before, so I had to take a look at the list of landing points. I shall come back and try this on another day, I thought.
I stopped several times to enjoy the view of open water to the east and north and of Undertow and Libris to the west and northwest. Standing at the edge of the trees with a wide view of these two open water regions, the beam of the distant lighthouse in Undertow, and an other-worldly affect of light from Libris gave the impression that these waters went on forever and made one feel as if on the edge of infinity. I did not stray from this spot for sometime.
You are lucky that I am a time traveller. One who likes to pick up little gadgets and trinkets from my travels to add to my collection. Fortunately I was carrying one of those gadgets on this day for my surveying work, a very small photographic device. Yes, it is cheating to use a camera in my surveying, generally I abide by the ideal of using the “tools of the time” in any job. But sometimes, well, this camera is just so cool… Sorry for the digression. Point is, I took a picture to share the beauty of the view from Carenduna with you. If you are a strict idealist, you need not look…
View of Undertow and Libris from Mourning Wood
Finally, I left the north woods for the trek home. I crossed the bridge in front of Carenduna and could see the ice was thick enough that it was safe to walk across the water to the outer land along the border with Undertow. I am so glad I did this as I made a surprising discovery. It’s not a big deal but something I was unaware of until now. And it made me study my maps as soon as I got home.
We always think of Undertow as an open water area but there are little specs of dry land at four spots along its borders – three on its western side and one, right here on Undertow’s eastern boundary, that connects to Mourning Wood. I never noticed this. What a nice, isolated spot to sit – in the warmer weather months, of course – and gaze at the sea. And the discovery of this spot made me think, “Hey! Our southeast continent is not three sims, it is four! Haven, Evergreen, Mourning Wood and Undertow – all connected by land! Who knew?!” Like I said, it wasn’t a big discovery but it’s the kind of little thing that turns an explorer on.
I left the tiny peninsula in Undertow, walked a few steps and I was back in Mourning Wood. Then I walked back to Evergreen, up the new path that Lady Rachel and I have connected and into my village. From there I took my rowboat to my cottage on the island I have not yet named. I got the maps out and looked at my photos and decided to do this article.
If you visit the Mourning Wood sim, in the southeast of Winterfell, do remember that it is the home of Rachel du Carenduna and respect her privacy and that of her relatives, friends and buildings…as you would at anyone’s home. Always remember Rule No. 1, explorers must always be courteous toward others and toward private property.
Lady Rachel does welcome visitors to tour the grounds and woods and view the sea. There are many beautiful spots in Winterfell, this is truly one of them. It is worth the trip if you are looking for a nice place to walk and be alone.
Carenduna
A bit of a dilemma presented itself this week. The publication you are reading refers, in its title, to the nineteenth century and to the Victorian Steampunk era. It purports to be related to my explorations in that time. Of course, I often travel forward or back in time on these pages. But with this new home I am creating in Winterfell Evergreen, comes this question: am I still living in the 19th century? This is Winterfell and when my main home was in Laudanum, there was no problem, as the Victorian Steampunk aesthetic is part of the landscape there. But outside of the southern towns, Winterfell is a dark fantasy realm - countryside, woods and rivers, rural. This sure ain’t Babbage.
The 19th century has been a good base of operations for me. There has been plenty to explore here and it has been a good jumping off point to other times as well. And the relationships the various Steamland nations have with each other and with other nations that don’t fit the Victorian Steampunk theme but do have similar interests, has led me to many interesting adventures.
But now, in Winterfell, don’t I live in an earlier time? Do I have to change the title of this publication? Do I have to change my overall focus or approach to this journal? Do I have to get a whole new wardrobe?
I hadn’t started shopping seriously for furniture for my castle. I had been putting it off. The task is daunting. But I don’t want to roam the halls of an empty castle either. So I unpacked my Victorian furniture and accessories. With all of the consolidation I’ve been doing, closing homes in Winterfell, Caledon, New Toulouse to make my new home here possible, I have a lot of spare furniture in my warehouse. (Yes, the old barn at Uncle Manuel’s farm became overloaded with my stuff, so I had to lease some warehouse space.)
Today, I had some of the warehoused furniture delivered to Evergreen and have been setting up sitting rooms in the castle. The Victorian pieces look good in this medieval castle. They do. Wouldn’t a Duke in the 19th century, living in an old castle, use the furniture of his own time period in his home. Of course, he would. Plus, a time traveller collects things in his travels and brings some of them back to his home time.
The more I think of it, the more I see no reason why I can’t live in the 19th century here in Evergreen, on the fringes of Winterfell. Why not? It won’t stop visitors from other time periods from coming here in their own time and interacting with me. What’s the problem? I trust you have heard of parallel time?
I shall not change the title of this publication nor my approach. I shall not change my style of clothes. I will go right along mashing up time periods here just as any other Winterfallen would, thinking nothing of it.
For if parallel time exists anywhere, it surely exists in Winterfell.
It was not long after I discovered new land in Winterfell that I sought to spread the word.
I sent a telegram to my old friend, the Marquise de Munford:
Greetings Lady Eleanor, I write to you from a new land, not quite on the maps, a land that did not exist just a few hours ago – Evergreen. I have claimed this land for Winterfell. I will write further details as I can. Regards, Danko, First Duke of Evergreen
Within hours, a reply was received:
Greetings Your Grace. My congratulations on your fortuitous discovery. May it increase the wealth and power of the great land of Winterfell. Regards Marquise de Munford
After reading the reply, I smiled, nodded at the messenger, folded up the telegram and placed it in my pocket. I tapped my hand on the outside of the pocket, and said, “First correspondence received in this land – by anyone. I shall keep this as a memento. It is an historical document.”
Other well-wishes were received from near and far. There were visitors as well, Lady Rachel came down from Mourning Wood, arriving by air on a winged, white horse a la Pegasus. (Her departure was so dramatic against the blue sky…I wish there was video.) Mr. Greymyst, my new neighbor by way of his purchase of my Haven properties, stopped in to view the construction project and offer advice and shopping tips. But Robyn was the first visitor. She always is, it’s a tradition. She came in from the future for a quick look-see. We didn’t say much, mostly we just smiled and said, yeah, this is cool. And laughed a lot. Several other friends stopped by. I told them all that once we are ready to open, there will be parties!
I have moved my Ebonshire cottage to an island in Evergreen. This retreat is where I will write from or spend time alone. My new castle, on an island of its own, will be my main and official residence. (I shall still maintain my Ambassador’s Office in Absinthe.)
We are constructing a village on the continent in the northwest corner of the territory which connects with Haven to the west and Mourning Wood to the north. The Emerald Inn will be moved from Laudanum to this village in the near future. The village will also host a gallery featuring my photographs of Winterfell, a couple of shops, my private office which will also host a visitors’ information center, and a museum.
Down the hill from the village to the north there will be a cottage for visiting writers to rent for a small fee while working on their manuscripts. I hope to have an additional cottage for writers in the future. Down the hill in the other direction, on the water, is the harbor master’s office.
It seems like another beginning for me in this world. Much has happened lately to make me feel that way. Mostly good, not all. I wish I could fix the not good. But all I can do is go on. This is Evergreen, my new hometown. I will have my own homes and I will have a little town, a village, to run. And I won’t have to go far to get from my castle or cottage to my pub or office. It reminds me very much of an earlier day in this world, on the Mainland, when I first started Pine Tree Square. And you were wondering where the name “Evergreen” came from.
Exploring unknown territory and discovering new lands can be pretty heady stuff. But it’s not all fun and games, you know. It is hard work, sometimes tedious work under horrid conditions. The average person might think they would like to be the first to walk a new land, “Oh, the sense of adventure!” they might say as they daydream about such feats. But put them out there one time at the lead of a bunch of tired, hungry, cold, grumpy support personnel, and believe me the thrill and the magic of discovery can wear off quickly. Still, it is rewarding to push through the mental tedium, the physical torture, the spiritual exhaustion of the act of discovery, to bring back a report to one’s leader and to the masses that he or she has “discovered new land!”
But sometimes – not very often, mind you, but once in a great while, if you’ve been in this game long enough, sometimes it’s just too damn easy! Sometimes, and don’t tell any explorer you know that I revealed this, sometimes new land can just fall into your virtual lap!
Like this past Sunday. I had observed a game of football (my side was victorious!) and, while puffing away on my victory cigar, was pondering the proper choice for the post-game meal. It was a tough choice, the kind of thing better considered over a fine ale. So I poured one and walked to the back window of my cottage in Haven and peered out. ‘Ah, it’s snowing!” A nice light snow was falling, the kind that makes one want to walk through it. I put out the cigar, grabbed a coat and hat and exited the back door, bringing along the ale.
I stepped into the snow and took in the night air. I walked over to the edge of the cliff on the east side of my island, looking at the open ocean and the snow and sipping my brew. What a lovely winter night.
Back inside, I put my supper on the table and poured another ale. I had the radio tuned to a jazz station, from the future. (It’s a very special radio.) I was about halfway through my meatloaf when I heard something. A deep sound, low in pitch, a broad sound but muffled, not sharp. It lasted…must have been 20 seconds or so. What could that have been?
A minute later, there it was again. Longer, this time. Then silence. Then the sound, a third time. I reached for my pocket watch. A minute-fifteen on that last one. I realized now I was not only hearing the sound but feeling it as well. Here it was again now. A bit louder and now a rumble to it. An airship? I looked out my windows, front, then back. The back window was rattling. I exited the back door again, no coat or ale this time.
I walked toward the cliff. The sound subsided again. I stopped, stood a moment. Waiting. And I heard it start up again, slowly growing, rumbling, louder, longer. And I could feel the earth moving. Earthquake? Must be. But I was guessing. I really had no idea what was happening here and I couldn’t see a thing. The sound and rumbling of the ground lasted over three minutes this time, ending with what I can only describe as a groan. What the hell?
The snow was falling harder now and it combined with the purple fog of Winterfell to make visibility just about zero. “I must be standing near the edge of the cliff,” I thought. But I couldn’t see the edge. Very gingerly, I took another step forward. And another. And another. And another. “I should be swimming by now.” I turned around, re-traced my steps, went back to the house for proper clothing and a lantern.
“That’s better,” I said back out in the cold night. Ulysses The Cat sat in the window, watching me through the snow, as another round of the deep sound and slow rumble cascaded about me. Again, I could feel the ground move. I trudged back along the path I’d created to its end. I stopped.
I turned and looked left, then right. I was standing well beyond the tree line. Thoughts raced through my head. “The edge of the cliff must be eight or ten steps behind me. There was ocean here an hour ago! I should be standing in mid-air above the sea!” But I was not. I was on solid ground.
Again the sound and rumble approached from the west and the north and maybe the east and from below me as well. This was no earthquake like I’d ever known. But an earthquake it was for there could be no other explanation, not one based on science at any rate.
I thought of going back inside but was it really any safer there with the land moving? In the dark and the snow, even the lantern only let me see so far. I could not see the ocean but I could hear it along with the wind. “That ocean’s out here somewhere,” I thought with a smile.
I continued away from the house. After a minute or so there was another tremor. I turned but could no longer see the lights from the house. I was still on firm ground. As I looked ahead, another surprise, a break in the clouds ahead.
The last tremor seemed shorter. The next one did too. And the interval between them seemed longer as well. But maybe the second is the same observation as the first. I laughed. My watch was in my pocket but I would not take it out in this weather. It was all I could do to hold onto my lantern and hat.
As the minutes passed, the tremors fell in length and number (though they did not stop completely for several hours). The clouds overhead were breaking now and there was some moonlight to help my lantern. The snow was now just a few tiny flakes here and there but the wind held steady at a pretty good clip. I walked to the sound of the water.
When I reached the cliff it was…well, not really a cliff anymore. It was now a hill that rolled down to the water. There were islands in the distance to the east. A high one, a low one. I turned north, not knowing how far the land might go. There came a point where the high ground there also gave way to a slope. I descended the hill and continued quite a way until I came to a woods, the first trees I had seen since those around my cottage. I poked my way through the trees and the brush and held up the lantern when the footing became odd. As in oddly regular. A path?
I got down on one knee, my gloved hands pushing the snow from right to left to clear the ground before me. A path! Where…? I did not have to calculate the direction nor the mileage, it hit me immediately… This must be Lady Rachel’s wood. I have just walked from Haven to Mourning Wood! You’d have to be able to walk on water to do that? But it was solid ground all the way!
I sat down in the snow, wishing I had taken a flask on my way out the door. But how could I have expected to be out this long, go this far. It’s impossible!
I followed the path a bit more, just to confirm my conclusion. As the clouds had lifted the moon was now providing more help and I stopped at a clearing and looked and saw Lady Rachel’s home, Carenduna, in the distance. “I really have done it,” I thought, “I’ve walked across the ocean.” It made me laugh out loud.
The hour was late and I would certainly not call on Lady Rachel tonight as there was no emergency. This could wait until daylight. Aside from this new land mass and the two islands, everything else remained the same. Carenduna looked as if it were just another night. Just a snowstorm blowing through. No damage, no trouble. I headed for home.
As much as I wanted to explore the entire area that had newly appeared, I decided it best to sleep for a few hours and get up early and get out there as the sun exposed all.
But there was one thing I had to do before bedding down. In fact I had to do it right now before anyone showed up. Although, “who would – could – show up here? This place isn’t even on the maps yet! Who would know to stop at my Haven place in the middle of the night and walk east – EAST!” I laughed. “Or to go to Lady Rachel’s at this hour and walk SOUTH!” More laughter.
I started running as I laughed, running through a few inches of snow, not going too fast but running just the same, as I was so excited at the chance to do what I was about to do. It was not my first time to be the first person in a new land but I had never had the opportunity to do this…
I was now running as hard as I could through the snowy high ground back to Haven, huffing and puffing in the cold winter night. Upon arrival at the cottage I tore the door open and ran to my study. There she is!
I grabbed the pole with one hand and the furled cloth with the other and quickly carried the Winterfell flag out into the night. Ulysses The Cat screeched and ran from the door as I exited.
I trotted now – I had to catch my breath – and made my way back to a spot I calculated was halfway between Haven and Mourning Wood. I picked out the spot from a distance as I trotted and as I got closer, I ran a little faster again.
My heart was beating fast, my mind was racing. I unfurled the cloth and grabbed the pole with both hands now and held it up over my head and declared, “I claim this land in the name of Lady Twilight, Seneschelf of Winterfell!” And I slammed the flagpole down into the ground. Well, not exactly ‘in’ to the ground. ‘On’ to the ground may be a better description.
The ground was, of course, frozen.
“Ouch!” I sounded a loud ouch. “Ouch, ouch, oooowwwwwch. Oooooo.” I trudged back to the house for a pickaxe and a shovel. “I’m glad there was nobody around to see that,” I grumbled to myself.
Well, I’ve kept you long enough. Needless to say, the flag was planted but I couldn’t call it a night just yet. As is customary, the discoverer of new land has the honor of naming the land. What should I call it? I was too tired to think. “Earthquake Hill,” yeah, that would be a good one; “Whitfield,” short and simple (unlike myself, of course, haha); I looked back toward the cottage where I knew a stout awaited me…and almost called it “Beerland!”
I noticed the tall pine trees next to my cottage and thought of the similar trees in Lady Rachel’s wood. At that I further declared, “I Christen this land, Evergreen! Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!” It had been awhile since I’d gotten off a good huzzah.
The morning brought the opportunity to see the extent of the new land mass and the islands. The Seneschelf, herself, came down to see. And later in the day, I met with Lady Twilight and Lady Rachel and Mr. Greymyst and an agreement regarding the new land was signed, The Anodyne Accord. The details of said agreement will be released in the coming days. What I can tell you is this…
I purchased this new land, all of it. As we were leaving the meeting, the magnitude of the purchase had not hit me. But then Mr. Greymyst shook my hand as he departed and said, “Thank you and congratulations, Your Grace.” As he walked through the door, I turned to Miss Serra but was speechless. Seeing the look on my face she smiled and said softly, ‘Yes Ambassador, you are now the Duke of Evergreen.”
Mind you, I had thought about such loftiness in my daydreams, I do admit it. But in all the excitement surrounding the discovery (And hey, they don’t get any easier than that, do they? New land just plops itself down at my back door in the middle of the night when nobody is looking. Guess there is such a thing as good luck, after all.) and claiming the land and exploring the next day and the purchase negotiations…well, it hadn’t hit me ’til the others said it after the meeting. Duke! Yeah baby, I’m the Duke, that’s right.
Well, there actually is more to tell but I really should let you go. Just let me say, Dear Reader, that whenever you hear one of us explorers going on about finding new land and all that went into it – the effort, the pain and the tedium (and the rotten food) – they are probably telling the truth. But sometimes, all you gotta do is be in the right place, in the right time. And to my fellow explorers, if land should ever fall in your own virtual lap, no worries, you can still get a very long story out of it.
I like to try and get the first crash of the day out of the way early.
This morning was some sort of a record. Aside from an Instantaneous Crash – and who doesn’t enjoy that – or the Crash Before I Even Finish Rezzing type of crash, I do believe today’s first crash may hold on to become my Crash of the Day. We’ll see, the day is young. But morning brought a very nice arrival to this world with no apparent reason to fear a crash. As I sipped my coffee and gazed out my castle window at my ship, SS Ambassador, the day was further brightened by the collection of friends who appeared on the day’s roster as well as scattered chit chat on the radio. But before I could even begin to consider which friend to say hello to first or which station to follow (ISC Chat, Steampunks of Babbage, Winterfell?) BOOM! The crash.
One minute? Surely not two, no, no. I hadn’t even done anything yet. Not even a cam swing, just landed, rezzed…and that was all she wrote.
I relogged into the world and immediately dispatched a message to one of my friends, a former neighbor. “I like to get the first one over with early,” I said without explanation. “So I noticed,” came her quick reply. “Oh! That’s it! That’s my first line. Crash of the Day?” I reminded her. (I have been threatening to write this article for some time now.) “Oh yes,” she said, possibly thinking to herself, “Most certainly, I keep all of your comments about articles you may write in an index on little, white cards. I am always sorting through them, noting your changes. For yes, I have nothing more rewarding nor better to do with my life than keeping track of your ideas for articles.” Wiseass.
Ahem. I had, indeed, been threatening to write this article for some time now. But where to begin. There are so many types of crashes to consider, so much material to work with. Much more than a person would need for one article. And no, please, I do not wish to write a series, not on crashes. No, thank you. Experiencing them is bad enough without having to rehash too many. The fact that I am writing just this one is bad enough. It was only supposed to be a threat all along. There was never any intention… It was all just a little joke. Just something witty to say at the right moment. (Witty. I said it was just a little joke. Geesh.)
But before I could consider where to take this piece after that fine introduction above, just before the digressions, what do you think happened? BOOM! Crash.
Saturday. Take three.
At this rate maybe I won’t need to recall crashes from the past. Today’s output may suffice. I actually have crashes on my calendar this day. I am planning to attend an event in Winterfell at which there will be a number of people and much dancing. I understand there’s no cover but it’s a two-crash minimum. Rimshot.
Yes, there is much I could write about crashes. I could tell you the story of the crash that happened at the most inopportune moment. No, holy moly, what am I thinking? I can’t tell you that! Well, needless, to say we all have our little stories of the most inconvenient crashes and they cross over many categories, so I could be referring to most anything, really. Now, where was I? Yes, or I could regale you with tales about crashing at a dance or an important meeting or ceremony or… the list goes on and on. Then there are the crashes of others that have a direct impact on us. The singer at the concert for example or the “deejay” at the dance. Or the other end of the one I referred to above…almost referred to above. Well, we’ll leave that.
The stories go on, the categories too…Which was The Worst Crash – “Oh God, I hadn’t saved that Notecard!” Which was The Best Crash - “Phew! Got me outta that boring party!” There’s the ‘I’ll Never Find It Again Crash’ – “Oh no, it brought me back to the main landing point! Aaarrrggghhh!” And the “If Only I Hadn’t Crashed!” – “Where is she? She was standing right here! We were connecting! Damn!”
So, really, what can one say about crashes that we all haven’t said or thought sooooo many times before. It’s just that I’ve started to rank them now. It is beyond “The ______ Crash I Ever Had” stories, it is now a daily ranking. The Crash of the Day. It has come to this.
But at least now, I will no longer have to threaten to write an article called Crash of the Day.
Now I can just say, “Yeah, I once wrote an article called Crash of th —-
POOF!
(saw that one coming a mile away, didn’t you? smarty.)
