THE NEW AGE OF STEAM (2346 words)(30/01/2009)

THE NEW AGE OF STEAM (2346 words)(30/01/2009)

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I had a new job! The only down side was that I had to relocate. I quite liked where I was at the moment, but it wasn't as if I couldn't come back. The way things were these days, people were constantly on the move.

New job or not, the boiler still had to be lit. I climbed out of my living carriage, past my storage carriage, then the tender and finally stepped up onto the footplate of my little 0-4-0 tank engine.

'Morning old girl!’ I greeted her cheerfully as I pulled wood from the tender and began to stock the fire.

An hour later and we set off. I'd been ready to go for a while, and had already had my tea and breakfast, but I still needed the signal to go. The rail yard in Bristol was massive and congested, but I was more worried about Crewe. Since my job was in Inverness it would be doubtful if I would manage to get there today and I might well be forced to overnight in some temporary yard along the line, or even worse, spent the night out on the open rails, a target for petrol heads and other degenerates.

I waved to my neighbours as I chugged slowly past,

'Relocating Mr Frobisher?’ Mrs Bartholomew called to me.

'Yes indeed Madam, I am off to Bony Scotland to start a new job!'

'Good luck to you then Mr Frobisher!’ she waved back from the footplate of her family 2-6-2, 'I'll see you down the line!'

I had similar exchanges with several people until I left through the open chain link fences of the Bristol Rail yard and out onto the open lines.

The countryside was now a procession of fields and forests. Fields to hold the cattle the fed us and forests of fast growing pine that fed our engines.

I opened her up as I got out onto the main line and let her get up to a sprightly 25 mph.

The lines were busy though, as ever, and I soon had to slow down. There were plenty of engines on the line, ranging from single person tanks like mine to the massive 4-8-4's of the stately communal express trains. Some were little better than slums on wheels but others were sleek and powerful, home’s of the elite.

I longed to get a bigger engine, but as a single male, by the laws of our country under God and the benevolent rule of President Haversham I was entitled to only a tank and two carriages.

If I was to marry I could upgrade to a 2-6-0 and have my wife hook her carriages onto mine.

I smiled to myself at the thought of marriage. If this new job worked out then why not? I turned to watch the scenery roll slowly past. Along side I could see the overgrown line of an old motorway. Every so often there would a hump in the greenery where a hated old automobile lay rusting.

'Horrible things!’ I said happily and chugged onwards.

I knew the signal men in Crewe well and waved at them as I passed, I had been through here enough times after all.

'Going north again Mr Frobisher?’ asked Mr Pontefract.

'I certainly am!’ I called back.

'I'll see you down the line then!’ he replied with a merry wave.

Making good time I passed through York around six in the evening. I was glad to get past here before nightfall as this was untamed petrol head territory. The government did what they could but up here there was less law and the would sometimes drive right up to the line and rev their horrid engines at the passing trains in a most alarming manner and were a constant nuisance to the line checkers.

They were not as bad as the environmentalists, but after the Crash of 45 they had become less mobile and as a consequence much easier to hunt and exterminate. It boggled my mind that some people could not see the rightness of steam. Wood fuel powered steam was the future!

I rolled into the Inverness yard at midnight, tired but happy.

The next day I was shunted into a side yard where my new job was to be and hopped from my carriage into the carriage of what was to be my new office. They were a firm of solicitors that dealt with disputes over land reform and primarily with the claiming of land for new branch lines.

'Come on in, Mr Frobisher', said the man who was to be my new boss, a Mr Deveer.

I shook his hand and said my hellos. We discussed at great length what my new duties were to be, but to be honest I sometimes find my job very dull so I can't imagine what others must think.

I won't got into detail then, but I was a little shocked when he said,

'As you know, our offices are situated here in the Inverness yard, but I'm afraid there is a bit of a waiting list here as it is full up. You don't mind doing a bit of a commute for a small while do you?'

'Ah...'

'Don't worry! It would be in a residential compound not far from here, not far at all. I know it’s annoying to have to fire up the boiler every day, but needs must when the devil drives!'

'It’s not walking distance?'

'Good god no man! Does anyone walk anywhere these days when you have the ease and convenience of steam travel?'

'No I suppose not.’ I replied, knowing that I did enjoy the odd heretical walk from time to time even if it was just around the yard.

'I must warn you though.’ continued Mr Deveer, 'Don't travel the line between here and the residential yard late at night. The Black Isle is home to a tribe of quite vicious petrol heads. I'm lead to believe they have a link to the St Fergus Clan.

I shuddered. The infamous St Fergus Clan ran secret pipelines out to the North Sea from which they gathered the last of the world’s oil. They were a band of murderers and even cannibals or so it was said.

'I'd forgotten how wild it can be up here sir.’ I managed to reply.

'That's the spirit!’ said Mr Deveer, slapping me on the back as I left.

That night I slept somewhat fitfully. The residential yard was a lot smaller than I had hoped and indeed than I was used to. It was home to at least ten other trains, but I was sure only one of them was in use.

I lit a fire in my living carriage and had my diner in there, something I rarely do, preferring to eat on the foot plate if the weather is fine.

A noise outside made me look up in terror. Had that been the sound of a combustion engine revving?

A few moments later there was a knock on the door and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I opened the security grill and looked down on the head of a red headed young girl carrying a basket.

Smiling I opened the door,

'Hello there madam', I said in greeting.

'Hello there', she said in a pleasant Scottish brogue, 'I'm Miss MacInnery, I hope you don't mind but I thought I might bring you some scones, by way of a greeting to the yard.'

'Of course!’ I said happily, 'Come in. I have some homemade jam that will go well with them!'

We talked for a while. She worked as a shepherdess in the surrounding hills, herding sheep in the protected pens along a nearby branch line.

'You must think it odd.’ she said meekly, 'That I do a job that takes me away from my train for so long each day.'

'Not at all!’ I said, 'I must confess I like to step down from the plate from time to time and stretch my legs.'

She smiled at that.

'Tell me', I continued to hide my pleasure at her smile, 'Are we the only ones in this yard?'

'That's correct Mr Frobisher, the other trains are not in use, all locked up waiting for people that need them.'

'I see. And are you not frightened of the petrol heads out in the hills when you go to work?'

She seemed momentarily tongue tied but said, ‘No no, people tend to exaggerated how bad things are out of the yards and off the lines. They fear the unknown I suppose.’

She left shortly afterwards.

The days rolled into weeks that rolled into months. My job paid well but was immensely boring. Even after months they still could not find me a place in the main yard, but in truth I did not mind as I was forming a strong bond with Miss MacInnery, or so I liked to think. She would never leave this yard as it was the closest to her work, but others came and went.

One day I arrived back from work, gently chugging into the yard to see that her train was not in its usual position. This in itself was not so odd as sometimes she stayed late if there was a sick sheep or it was lambing season. But I grew concerned when she still hadn't returned after tea. As the evening wore on to bedtime I resolved to take a quick tour up the line to see where she was.

There were only two exits from this yard, one that lead to Inverness and one that lead into the mountains. I chugged up to the gates of the later and called to the signal man to open up.

'Are ye sure you want to be venturing up into mountains at this time of night Mr F?’ said the old signalman.

'What about Miss MacInnery, she’s still out there isn't she?'

'Well right enough I suppose.’ he grumbled and finally opened the gates.

I steamed off into the mountains and the sun began to set. As I crossed an old iron bridge I saw, in the distance a man stood on the back of a jeep watching me. As I caught his eye he raised a spear and held it in the air then pointed directly towards my train.

I gulped, but resolved to continue on my way.

The line never seemed to end, and I had to turn on all the lamps to light up the rails before me. Around each turn on the mountain line I hoped to see her little red tank engine sat patiently in a siding as she was out somewhere tending her flocks, but no.

I grew more anxious and checked my pocket watch. Unbelievably it was already two o’clock in the morning. I reached a point where the line split, but could see no signal box. I cursed to myself. I could either continue on my way, or stop and switch the line by myself.

I was too scared to stop so simply steamed on and the switch turned out to be selected to turn left, so powerless to do otherwise that was the direction I headed in.

More bad luck was to follow. The line ended here in a siding. I would have to reverse the tank and head back again. I came to a halt, but was startled by the clear sound of revving combustion engines not far away.

Suddenly a half dozen sets of automobile headlights were switched on and the darkness was illuminated.

'Step down from your engine!' called a man from his jeep.

It was no use, my engine took minutes even to get up to ten miles an hour, they would be able to easily catch me, even assuming they hadn't blocked the line behind me.

I picked up a shovel and looked out from the cab. Stepping into the light of the headlamps I could see a tall red headed man holding a crooked looking spear.

'You've picked the wrong place for a midnight drive, laddie! Don’t you know you are in St Fergus clan territory?’ said the man.

'Leave me be!’ I replied brandishing my shovel as the steam hissed out of my tank. I was loosing pressure. I was also terrified. The St Fergus Clan, could they really be cannibals? Was I to be eaten?

'What are you doing out here?’ the man asked.

'I'm looking for someone.'

'Who?'

'Miss MacInnery', I said, not seeing a reason to hide my intentions, 'She is a shepherdess.'

The man looked behind him into the darkness and beckoned someone forward.

Miss MacInnery stepped cautiously into the lit area between the automobile and my tank engine.

'Miss MacInnery!’ I exclaimed, 'Have these scoundrels harmed you?'

She smiled in embarrassment and said, 'Why would they, when they are my own family?'

I was so flabbergasted I was rendered speechless.

'Don't worry Mr Frobisher.', she said, 'My brother won't harm ye. Go home, I will speak to you tomorrow.'

I was so full of terror when I returned to the Residential Yard that I had to call in sick to work. Once I had sent the telegram from the signal box I returned to my living carriage and locked the door.

I must have fallen asleep because when there was a knock at the window I leapt awake. Looking out I could see Miss MacInnery’s engine in the yard and her looking up at me anxiously.

I opened the door and let her in.

'You haven't called the authorities have you?’ she asked.

'No no, I haven't’ I replied with a nervous shrug.

'That's good. I was sorry to scare you. It was a Clan gathering, I didn't think you would come looking for me. It really was very sweet of you.'

'I...’ was all I could manage.

'Do you think it odd that some of my family are petrol heads?'

'Well.', I said noncommittally.

'Believe me', she said, 'It’s more common up here than you might think.'

'I suppose it must be.’ I replied, 'But aren't they savages?'

'Well, a bit, but I still love them.'

We sat down and had some tea.

'Tell me Mr Frobisher, could you love someone who's from a petrol head family?'

'It would depend who it was, Miss MacInnery.', I replied leaning nervously forward.

She leaned closer still, 'You can call me Penelope if you like.'

We kissed and the angels sang.

'I have a family confession I must make as well my dear', I whispered when our lips finally parted.

'What's that?'

'My name wasn't always Frobisher. My father changed it after the Crash and the New Age of Steam.'

'Really? What was it before?'

'Beeching!'

The road to Damascus - 2009

1669 words - 31/08/2009

IN A WORLD WITH JESUS CHRIST
(The road to Damascus)
by Professor H. D. Dean Rupinda, V.I.E

As a professor of History here at the Vishnu Institute of Enlightenment I often called on to give my views
on what might be termed 'alternative' history.

I am often asked about various events in history and how - if things had turned out a little differently -
the course of history might have changed. Like a pebble starting an avalanche, seemingly small events
can have huge and unforeseen consequences.

There have been times in the past when the whole course of humanity has balanced on the head of a pin
and once the balance shifts, the 'what could have been' is lost for ever.

For this particular dissertation, I will examine a small Israeli desert cult called 'Christianity'
that flourished for a brief few decades in the Vikram Samvant era before being totally annihilated by
its many persecutors.

This was just one of many desert cults of the time that flourished in the region, like flowers springing up
after the rain, before being crushed out by other cults or  paganism. Christianity itself was founded
primarily by the followers and supporters of a demagogue known as  Jesus Christ, thought for a time to be the
much prophesied messiah of another little known desert cult of the time - Judaism.
The ruling Pharisees (Jewish religious leaders) of the day disliked this man however and had the Roman
gouverner put him to death. The disciples of Christ tried to keep his teachings of peace and love alive but
in these harsh times this burgeoning religion was quickly crushed, primarily by Judaism. Judaism in turn
died out three hundred years later in the great sweep of paganism that encompassed all of Europe and Asia
prior to the Enlightenment.

There was no persecutor of Christianity greater in his zeal than a man called Paul. During his life time
he rooted and out executed hundreds of these new Christians.

When he left Jerusalem for Damascus, he set in motion a purge of this new cult that would effectively
wipe it out completely in his life time.

But imagine if you will, a world where this didn't happen. Imagine if he received a vision from
some angel, or Jesus Christ himself that would instantly convert him to this new faith.

History would undeniably change, Christianity's greatest enemy would become its greatest ally. With
Paul leading the way, Jews and Gentiles would convert in their thousands, initially persecuted
by the Romans, but finally, perhaps becoming the official Roman religion and creating some kind of Holy Empire.

As any young school boy knows, this is not what happened, otherwise we would all be worshipping
in churches and not pagan and Hindu temples as we do today! But would humanity be better off if
we had adopted a monotheistic religion so early on in civilisation, before we were fully aware of
the dangers associated with such singular belief?

Any monotheistic religion, however good its intentions, always falls foul of the same problems.
Corruption, dogma, strictures quite literally set in stone, followed by heresy, inquisition and
ultimately persecution and terror. As this passes, it is replaced with apathy and complete
spiritual desolation.

It is my feeling that if Christianity had flourished in some way, as it had every possibility
of doing for this strange Jewish man had a very persuasive message of peace and understanding,
that not only would it have become the dominant religion of the region, it would also spread
all across Europe, Asia and North Africa.

It would have also had the effect of making all other monotheist religions that much more
appealing to the common man.
As a cult seemingly at odds with Judaism, would it, perversely, ensure that this Abrahamic religion
continued on into the present day?

Not only that, but would other monotheist religions rise up? Such a strange concept as it may appear to
people to day, but back in these times, it was a very persuasive argument.
Arabia for instance, having no strong religion would have been have been ripe for it. The great
general Mohammed, a minor historical figure that came along five hundred years after Jesus would
have been the perfect person to spread such things across this area.

How would paganism and Hinduism have faired against such monolithic, single-deity worshipping
zealotry? I picture paganism pushed to near extinction by successive waves across Europe and
North Africa. Hinduism would perhaps have faired better, covering as is it did then the whole of the
Indian sub-continent, but such a gentle and nebulous religion would still easily be subdued by
harsher, more pragmatic monotheist invaders.

Here in the Britain would our mixture of enlightened paganism, Hinduism and spiritual atheism be
replaced by the rigid forms of a confused personality cult masquerading as a belief in a single all
powerful deity?

Perhaps. Certainly we would have a Christian calendar rather than a Hindu one.  So this year,
Sarvadhari, would be known as 2009 (going by the birth of Christ - I will now use this dating
system for all further dates in this essay.)

As we know from history, three hundred years from the crucifixion of Christ we entered an age known
as the Pagan Enlightenment. Humanity began to see their pagan pantheons, be they Roman, Greek, Norse
or Celtic for the metaphors that they were. While keeping the spirituality, human kind was no longer
bound by the earlier dogma and our spirits soared free from our ancient binding superstitions and
customs.

So, instead we would be living in a world shaped by a zealous monotheist cult or a series of cults.
Founded on love, peace and kinship, it is true, but many studies have shown that when all the
power is put in one place, corruption, nepotism and despotism follows.
As we have seen with other, thankfully brief, monotheist experiments, dogma and ritual takes over
and soon the ruling religious elite are dominating the lower classes who are beaten into sub dual by
such things as the promise of a more forfiling afterlife.

Strange as it may seem to an enlightened pagan, or a neo-hindu, in the time of Christ it was altogether
possible for such a thing to happen, in fact the world was ripe for it. The existing monotheist religions
such as Judaism were already making their presence felt. It would have been a much more modern concept
to the ancient mind, rather than the dusty old pantheons of hundreds of seemingly uncaring deities.

And they would have no idea then of the dangers inherent in the worship of a single god. Putting all
your spiritual happiness under the control of one single entity, perverse as it may seem today, was very
much a possibility two thousand years ago.

As a consequence of all this wealth hoarding and dogma ridden philosophy, we can only imagine how many
hundreds of years the enlightenment would be delayed. It may well have been held back until the 1600's (using
their calendar), meaning anything up to a thousand years!

Imagine all the knowledge that would be lost, stamped down by these all powerful cults. Imagine how
many scientists and philosophers that would have to be constantly looking over their shoulder incase
they offend this all powerful church.

Humanity would descend into a 'dark age', and languish there for hundreds of years, before the every
hungry curiosity of human endeavour finally pulled itself out from under the shadow of zealous monotheist
misbelief.

There would be no cloning as we have today. Stem cell research would probably be in its infancy and
interstellar travel would be a distant dream. With the SS Galellio about to make her maiden voyage to
Proxima Centauri, in this alternative world it would not be surprising to think that scientific endeavour
had been held back so much that they were barely advanced enough to put a man on the moon.

It is grim indeed to imagine so many people of the world searching for spiritual truth, not from within
themselves, but from dusty old tomes of dogmatic scripture that was written down by ignorant men two
thousand years ago.

However, it could not be all bad. I am sure, that with a stronger, more war like Europe it
would have been almost impossible for a war like the Aztec Invasion to happen. If curious Christian
explorers were to have landed in central and south America to invade and pillage these rich kingdoms hundreds
of years before hand then it would be unlikely that large parts of Britain, Gaul and Spain would be
destined to lie under the yoke of Aztec domination for decades before being thrown off by the Hindustan Armies.

Sometimes perhaps things are just written in the stars and whatever happened in the past, mankind would
always be destined for a Great War. Perhaps it would even start on the same date - 1914.

The Aztec Empire, which threw away its paganistic beliefs for purely ritualistic blood letting by then
and had wrestled control of all of North and South America.

Our great war was terrible, and millions died in the nuclear blasts.
Would the alternative Christian world fair any better? It would be hard to imagine them having mastered
the power of the atom by then, but would their monotheistic mind-sets be able to think up other
more primitive but no less effective means of mass destruction?
And with no nuclear conclusion, like a massive full stop at the end of the wars sentence, would it
not flair up again in another twenty or so years. And what part would religion play in all of this?
Would the competing monotheistic religions be at war with each other? Would one try to annihilate the
other in some terrible genocidal holocaust?
Our devastating single year of world war may seem mercifully brief to their eyes, as they dealt with
the ramifications of competing single god religions well into the 21st century.

WM Entry 2 : SUNSET OVER BOROBUDUR

SUNSET OVER BOROBUDUR

I'd never met her before, all I knew was that she was married to my brother. I'd
not even seen pictures of her, they'd only been married for three months and both
of them had an deep distrust of Facebook.
I knew she was half Indonesian and half Dutch or something. I'd been in Norway at
the time of my brother's wedding and in our last conversation on Skype we had
arranged a cycling holiday around the south of Java from Borobudur to Prambanan. We
had done it before when we were young and since Emma was the adventurous type she
had wanted to join us.
I should explain. Myself and my brother are Sundanese, the people of west Java. My
name is Agus Zam Ghusa. I am tall for a Sundanese and with my high cheek bones and
broad nose I have been told I would make a good extra in a kung-fu film as one of
the villains. I've also been told that I can be a bit intimidating to people when
they first meet me because of my appearance, but that's only at first. I am
actually quite shy.
But there she was, stepping off the train into the roasting heat of the Stasiun
Tugu, a rucksack on her back and pulling a mountain bike off the carriage behind
her.
I groaned inwardly. She was blonde. I had not been expecting that, she looked like
a bule. In my language a 'bule' is literally an albino but we apply it to all white
skinned people. This would give the holiday a different texture. Wherever we
went, she would be treated like a 'bule gila' (crazy white person) and me as her
guide.
Well, ok I thought, that's fine, but then something even more alarming hit me like
a thunderbolt. She reached behind her into the train and lifted out a little boy.
He was as blonde as her and obviously her son. He was about two years old and
nuzzled into her chest as she carried him down and onto the baking platform. He was
as cute as you could possibly imagine, all Indonesians cannot resist blonde bule
babies and he was drawing a lot of attention.
I stepped forward through the crowd and helped her with her bicycle.
'Emma?' I asked.
'Yes.', she smiled warily, 'You must be Agus?'
'Ah yes, Anto never mentioned .. a .. a boy?'
She seemed puzzled, 'No? I did tell him I was taking Jake.'
I smiled and nodded, half bowing.
I straightened up though, remembering she was family, I didn't have to treat her
like a venerable old lady.
In my country bules are treated like sacred animals, tourists who bring money into
our cities and onto our beaches. Slightly soft in the head in the way that old
people can be, but like old people to be treated with the utmost respect.
My dumb smile remained though. I now noticed the child's seat on the back of her
bike,
'It will be a hot trip for a little boy.'
'Oh we've brought everything he needs. He's looking forward to it.', she replied.
The first leg of the journey would take us to a campsite where we would meet Anto
and go the rest of the way to Borobudur.
I was looking forward to seeing those ancient Buddhist temples once more, the
serenely smiling statues looking out over the jungle and the terraced stone
galleries leading up to an exquisite view across to the volcano. I am a Muslim, but
I am profoundly moved by Borobudur's calm spirituality.
And so we set off, me taking the lead, using a GPS and a map although I knew the
way. Emma behind, struggling to keep up in the heat and carrying the extra burden
of her son who gabbled away happily behind her.
I was burning to ask her about how she had come to have a child. I was also furious
with my brother for not telling me about this incredible fact, but I suppose he
would have been afraid that I would have told our parents. He might have been
right.
She was probably divorced, probably not a Muslim and I'm sure our mother would
assume marrying Anto to get her son another father.
I cycled and pondered. It had just been one of those things meeting her off the
train having never met her before, myself and my brother both had jobs in the oil
industry, I lived in Aberdeen with my wife and Anto lived in New Zealand.
It was to do with when our jobs could let us go, flight times and a dozen other
considerations that meant the best way to start off our holiday was for me to be
the one to pick her up. The campsite was twenty kilometers away and I'd thought we
would easily make it, but that was before I realised we would be taking a toddler
along with us.
The fact that she was constantly stopping to fuss over him did not help either.
Water, snacks, sun hat on, sun hat off, I could see that whatever had happened to
the boys father, she was trying to make up for his loss by smothering the child
with love and even at two years old he could manipulate her masterfully.
After an hour I stopped and drank half a bottle of water,
'How is he?', I said. Smile. Nod. Oh stop it I thought, she's not a tourist.
'He seems fine now' she replied and stroked his face, 'I've been giving him lots of
liquids. I'd forgotten how hot it gets here.'
'When were you last back?'
'Gosh' she said with a small smile, pulling the sweat soaked long blonde
hair from her lips, 'It must have been ten years.'
We cycled on and several times I tried to make conversation, but she would start
fussing over Jake or just give me one word answers so in the end I gave up.
At lunch time we stopped at a roadside warung and I ordered a diet coke and mie
goreng (fried noodles). Emma had her own food and drink for her and Jake.
I ate quickly as I always do, shoving great spoonfuls messily into my mouth. It was
while my mouth was full she chose to hit me with what had been bothering her,
'Your mother doesn't approve of me. Or Jake for that matter.'
I couldn't speak, but tried to swallow what was in my mouth as quickly as I could.
She continued, 'Anto never told me what she was like.'
'I'm not surprised', I managed, 'She's a bit of a handful.'
'I mean, what sort of woman has her maids approach her on their knees?'
I felt embarrassed but replied, 'She's related to the Yogja royal family, or so she
thinks. You would say “Blue Blooded”.'
She gave me a dangerous look and I realised I'd said something wrong.
'And here we get to it', she all but snarled, 'You said “You” as if explaining to
someone from a different country.”
“Ahh, I didn't mean it like that, I mean..' I had to stop because as I thought
about it I did mean it like that. She was different to me and my entire family, she
was a bule.
'I'm not different to you though.' she said, 'I've dyed my hair, I've used that
stupidly dangerous skin bleaching soap. I'm just the same.'
'You don't speak bahasa though.'
Oh Agus! I thought, learn to think before you speak!
'No you're right, I don't and It was made very clear to me by your mother that that
was another black mark against me.'
I began to think carefully as I started to wonder if I wasn't, at this stage, going
to say something that might end my brother's marriage.
'I don't understand, why did you meet her at all? I thought you were in a hotel in
Bandung?'
She shrugged then sighed. As she took out a yogurt pot from her rucksack and began
spooning it into Jake's mouth she said,
'It seemed like a good idea at the time. It turned out though, that Anto hadn't
told her about Jake either.'
I grimaced. I could imagine exactly how mother would have taken it.
She caught my look and said, 'Exactly'.
No wonder she'd been so quiet since she'd got off the train.
That evening I watched the sun set over the mountains of Borobudur from the highest
point on the main stupa. Jake was on my knee almost asleep. Down the stairs and
through and arch of Kala I could see Anto and Emma arguing. How could they in such
a place?
I had been day dreaming about how nice it would be to have them all over to
Aberdeen sometime. My two children would love Jake. He was a sweet child and we had
had a great time exploring all the galleries and looking at the reliefs.
I'd forgotten about their quarrel as soon as we'd passed the Lion Gate Guardian.
Eventually Emma waved for me to bring him down and I carried his little sleeping
body down to her, his sandaled feet tapping against my arm. I passed him over to
her and I ruffled the boy's hair and kissed his forehead. Without a word she turned
and carried him all the way down the stairs and into the gardens. I felt a
tremendous sense of loss, turning to Anto I could see his heart had been broken.
Somehow they had not been able to talk past Anto's lies and attempts to hide things
from our family. Emma had once lived as a bule, had lived with one and had had a
child with one. Now she was finding it too hard to come back to her beginnings.
I looked down at my arm where Jake's sandals had left a line of dust. I rubbed it,
then rolled the grains of sand around in my finger tips. When I looked up they had
gone.
I never saw Emma again.

WM Entry 1 : The Girl In the Red Shoes

The Girl In the Red Shoes

I am above and behind her, stood on a hand rail, she does not see me or if she does
then I am ignored. She is at the beach today although it is covered by the sea, a
tumultuous stormy sea that is lashing against the front. It is not yet spring, the air is chilled
and the sea icy cold, lashing against the stonework of the sea front
sending up great plumes of white water.

It is its violence that has drawn people here today and the girl laughs with joy
as she runs back from a crashing wave that chases her along the slipway, wobbling
on heals that are too big for her, a bag of chips held high in her right hand.

There is a story in her shoes, for those that would read it. The girl can only
be eleven or twelve, but these are women's shoes. Bright vermilion red, tied with
ribbons of the same hue and teetering on six inch heals.

Her father watches from further up, not wishing to get wet, but not fully abandoning his daughter to the elements. The shoes say this: This girl has no mother. For what mother would allow her daughter to wear such ridiculous things? And even then, what mother would risk them getting damaged by the sea?

The father is dressed in a leather jacket and has a long pony-tail of gray hair, an
aging hipster. These shoes are an indulgence on his daughter. She is dressed
inappropriately for her age, much too old. I wonder if the father knows this, that
he has dressed his daughter like a slut? Or if he is genuinely unknowing in what
a young girl should wear? Or more likely it is a confused fusion of the two, a lack
of understanding coupled with a desire to see her dressed like her mother for
reasons he has not yet dared to examine.

She is not pretty. She has an overbite and hair that is much too frizzy but she is
beautiful in the way that all young are beautiful. She runs back from the rushing
sea, nearly dropping her chips.

I am watching her intently now but I am still unnoticed by either of them. I hold
myself back because the father does not look like the sort of man that would allow
any mistreatment of his daughter. I remain where I am, studying my prey. She is
happy, whatever happened to her mother has not affected her, or perhaps she is
 happy in this moment only, running away from the sea and then forward again as it recedes.
Perhaps this is the first happy moment she has had with her father since the loss of her mother?

Behind her, in the distance on the slate dark sea are the supply ships that go out
to the oil platforms. There are at least a dozen of them, I am familiar with them
all being a creature of the sea myself. She has not noticed them, but her father
has, he splits his glances between her and the ships. He wishes he was out there
and not here. He gets no enjoyment from this.

But this does not bother the girl in the red shoes in the slightest, she laughs
and squeals with happiness as the mighty waves crash against the front. Then
finally she mis-judges her run and is caught head on by a wave, promptly soaked
to the skin her chips dashed against the cobbles.

Her father laughs, not unkindly, and she laughs too, holding her arms out in a
bedraggled fashion. He goes to get her a blanket from the car. This is my chance...

The sea lurches in again and scoops up the chips like a giant hand. It swallows
up every last morsel, an endless juggernaut of untamed greed. They are all gone,
I have no reason left to study the girl in the red shoes so I lift up into the
air and with a flick of my wings soar out to sea. I have forgotten my appetite
now, I want to fly out to the ships and enjoy the wind through my feathers.

(G172 26/07/2013 Fri via Roll20 - JF(GM) , AP)

(G172 26/07/2013 Fri via Roll20 - JF(GM) , AP)

DAY 212 (9 Marpenoth)(October) continued ...

And so, around noon, young Fenrir went invisible and returned to the chamber of
Doctor Adenauer. He noticed on the way a Vampire Spawn bringing slain zombies and
piling them up in his room.

When the Spawn left he opened the door and revealed himself. HE tried to convince
the doctor to offer his healing for free. The Doctor was quite clear though,
he would need payment.

Fenrir, rather desperately, offered him some of the stolen silver but the Doctor just
snorted, 'You are trying to give me the Counts silver? Preposterous!'

In the end he gave the Doctor the magical amulet he'd used again Maaril in exchange
for some healing potions and took them back to where the others were camped.

On the way though, as he passed back through the empty chamber that was the ante room
before the living areas he came across a friendly ghoul. He suspected it mainly just
wanted to eat him and after some badinage blasted it to bits.
He then looted a magic scarab of golembane and the door key off it.

They rested in the trophy room until nine o'clock and were not disturbed. The crypt
was a silent and dark place where people did not move around much.

So, they set off again and the next room they tried was the chamber of Lothar the
Castilian. Upon seeing him Fenrir felt suddenly violently sick and Lothar quickly
gave him a bottle of golden liquid and told him to drink it.

Fenrir did so and felt instantly better. Once everyone else came in Lothar shut the
door and talked to them.
He warned Fenrir that he'd felt sick because of 'That horrible witch Katrina'. Lothar
was another one that wanted to see the Count dead though and gave them some items
to help with this, including his keys and a silver tipped stake.
It appeared the Count was not a popular fellow!

From Lothar's chamber they followed the corridor south and it lead out to a balcony
overlooking a mist shrouded courtyard. It was dark and ominous here and the darkness
was like a wall.

There were three doors on the east side though. The first door contained lots of
rusted weapons and armour. One suit of armour came to life, but Fenrir quickly blasted
it into ruin.

The next door lead to a much larger room that was home to a huge organ that hummed
loudly at the far east end. Fascinating as that was though, they had little change
to check it out as swarms of rats suddenly appeared from cracks in the walls and
floor.

Fenrir took to the air and Corum stepped right back leaving Hellion and Fred to
get the worst of it. Fred was covered head to foot in rats, but Hellion used
three cone of cold spells to freeze to death the multiple swarms of rodents.

Once that threat was taken care of they explored another chamber or two and then
came to the last door on the balcony which was the Count's living room.
Inside it was plushly decorated and comfortable but also inhabited by the Count's
per vampire bat and vampire weasel.

Hellion went in with the big guns again and hit the place with a fireball which
killed the weasel and left the bat rather stunned and an easy target for Fred's
meaty fists.

From here a door led into a dining room and then into an undecorated chamber that
held a single coffin where they were attacked by a spectre. This was a dangerous
foe as not even Fenrir's ethereal bolts were not always effective. Hellion used
some lightning bolts to try and damage it, but even they did not always hit but at
least the electricity healed Fred a little.

Fred was also immune to the spectre so it mainly targeted Hellion and Fenrir
pushing the wizard into a corner and draining him of some of his being.

Fenrir piled on the blasts but hit only a few times. Hellion finally used his
largest remaining spell - Ice Storm - and dealt it a severe blow. Fenrir finished
it off with a final blast.

Hellion was badly hurt and drained of much of his being and wanted to find a cleric
as quickly as possible, so he wished Fenrir and Corum good luck and teleported himself
and Fred out of the dungeon.

The two remaining brave fellows followed a corridor down some steps and around a switch
back and ended up back at the courtyard but down in the mist.

Using the Castilian's keys they entered the Count's inner crypt. Down this dark and
dingy corridor Corum fell straight into a sixty feet pit trap and was nearly killed.
Somehow though he still breathed and Fenrir flew down to help him.

The moved on into an area that was a cold, utterly dark maze of corridors and locked up
crypts. Most they avoided, but one that they found was open contained a ghost of a dead
female wizard who helped them with a ring of magic spells.

They then found themselves at a place where the only option seemed to be to go through
a crypt that contained a strange mummified skeleton, but Fenrir used his 'Theivesbane'
ability to good affect and set a trap for it on the door.
Once it was weakened by that it took only one eldritch blast to finish it off.

From this area some steps lead further down into a set of even dingier crypts. Eventually
they came to the one the Count was in.
He didn't seem that surprised to see them and was standing at the back of the large chamber
with his latest victim, a young woman called Nastassia.

Seeing that his vampiric domination had no effect on them he decided to parlay. Fenrir was
not really interested in this fellow even though half his household seemed to want him dead
and there was fairly obviously a maiden in need of rescue. By this time Corum was in a bit
of a daze and just going along with things.

Fenrir asked if the Count knew how to get out of Waterdeep but the Count only said,
'You seem like a useful young man. You should join me....'

As the vampire came forward Fenrir blasted it and they both fled through the door. Fenrir
trapped the doors as they fled though them but the Count was in gaseous form now and seeped
through the cracks in the frame.

Well, it may surprise you to know, that vampires, if you are lucky, are not impossible to
defeat as long as you deal enough damage very quickly. They heal quickly and can flee cunningly in
various forms, but, as Fenrir found out, two powerful ethereal magic blasts dead on target is
enough to put one down.

After they'd defeated him, they leapt on the Count, drove the stake through his heart and
chopped his head off!

Back at the crypt they unchained Nastassia and she used the small healing powers that she
possessed to help her rescuers a little. Just as they were deciding what to do next though
Katrina arrived in a cloud of gas.

She was happy that her brother was dead but when she tried (and failed) to dominate Fenrir
he attacked her and she fled the way she had come.

Sensibly at this point they then decided to leave the crypt as quickly as they could and then
the Necropolis. They were not attacked on the way out, perhaps Katrina had decided it was best
that they left her alone as well so she could claim her brother's place.

Nastassia guided them to the cellars of a ruined house were her people lived, a small group
of survivors. Here Fenrir and Corum were thanked with food and drink and a place to spend
the night.

One of the people that lived there knew of a strange well that was in a small courtyard at
the back of the Necropolis. He had no idea if it was a way out or not, but having heard of
it my brother and Fenrir decided it was well worth a look.

DAY 213 (10 Marpenoth)(October)

They left Nastassia's hideout in the afternoon and followed the directions they had been given
to the well.

It was situated in a small courtyard between three tall crypts. No one would have ever found it
without know where to look. It was indeed strange to look upon as on the outside it looked like
a normal stone walled well, but inside it was like a huge red gulping throat.

They didn't like the look of it much but Corum remembered the advice 'Head first and naked'
and began to strip off. Fenrir went first, diving straight down into the gullet. Corum
followed.

So that was the end of their time in Darknessdeep. What exactly the place was, or where it was,
perhaps will be explained later. They took a long time to traverse their way down the throat
and it was a very unpleasant experience, or so Corum told me later, but they suffered no ill
effects.

The next that Corum knew was that he was standing back in the grounds of the Artemel Villa in
the precise spot where he had been when Anya had found DeRosan. He was wearing the same
armour he had had on that night and even had his sword in his hand. Fenrir was nearby.

It was a cold and dark evening, they could see their breath in the pale twilight. They shared
a silent glance as they got their bearings and decided what to do next.

Work Blog 8 : Medical

Medical

So yesterday I went for my medical renewal at Abermed. Yes, my life really is that
exciting. I've been there a couple of times, it seems like a good place, not like
the dodgey back street surgery I once went to in Hull.

Very professional, but I do wonder why a nurse or doctor would want to work there
and not for the NHS or whatever. It surely must be the same thing each day. A GP
must get a lot of variety but these guys must perform the same tests on the same
bunch of surly offshore workers day after endless day. I suppose they are paid
more.

Anyway for those of you that have never done it here is what happens :

You fill in a small novel of paperwork for all the tests they carry out on you.
One of the questions amused me :

'Do you have memory loss, confusion, anger and irritability?'

Well yes, yes I do. But probably no more than any other person that works at Aker
so I put no :D

Then the nurse tests your eyes with a chart and some colour blindness pictures,
takes your height and weight, tells you that you are a fat git, then takes you
to the toilet where you pee in a cup. This is then tested for all sorts of nasty
things.

Assuming you survive that then you get the full hearing test of pressing a button
each time you hear a beep and trying not to fall asleep in a sound proof booth.

After all the fun of that you go see the doctor who makes sure you have arms and legs
that function and that you don't fall over when you shut your eyes.
He then gives you a good tickle and fondles you gently as you lie back and wish
there were more female doctors working for Abermed.

If he does find something wrong with you though he tells you to go see your GP,
he's really not interested in hearing about your various mystery ailments ;)

They then give you a certificate and punt you out again, the whole process taking
about an hour and a half leaving you safe in the knowledge that you are healthy
enough to fall asleep on helicopters, go up and down stairs and pig out on huge
piles of offshore food :)

More chips sir?

(G171 20/07/2013 Sat via Roll20 - JF(GM) , AP)

(G171 20/07/2013 Sat via Roll20 - JF(GM) , AP)

[Forgive me once more for jumping around in the narrative dear reader! I really should
get my notes in order but anyway, here is the next instalment of the adventures that
Fenrir and Corum had in Darknessdeep]

DAY 211 (8 Marpenoth)(October) cont ...

It was morning at Kreenan's hideout and the were both getting bad coughs. The air
in Darknessdeep was full of ash and soot and everyone that lived there had a bad case
of 'black lung'.

Fenrir and Corum were not used to this air and their lungs were filling up with nasty
gunk. There wasn't much they could do about it though and once he'd cleared his airways
as much as he could Corum said to Fenrir :

''
I think we just need to get out of here. Whatever is on the other side of the barrier has
to be better than this. If we've really been dead for fifty years lets get out of here and go
to Baldur's Gate or something.
I don't know though. I once read a book about this man that ended up in a hellish version of
his city. It was called Unthank and when he got out of it, well, it was only then he realised
he was in hell.
The next place he went to was this sort of hospital under the city where he got healed
up. Sounds like a better place than this. Forget De Rosan I say and concentrate on getting
out.Either that or the only way to get out is kill De Rosan or defeat him somehow.

If there is no way out at all I'm just going to kill myself, because the afterlife seems
like a better option this.
''

Fenrir agreed but had no idea how to get out. Corum reminded him that Zander had mentioned
something about an exit in the City of the Dead.

Anger, their ever useful guide, took them to the northern most gate to the Necropolis.
They spotted two figures at the gate, seemingly in conversation, a normal sized man and
a much larger man.

Fenrir flew over invisibly and tried out his talisman. It had no effect and when he listened
to them talk he could not understand the language they were speaking in.

So they decided to go down to the next gate and try that one. Fenrir went in first, flying
and scouting. He saw the wizard chap and his big friend fighting zombies and skeletons
so deciding to help landed and started blasting too.

When the fight was over he introduced himself (as Bob Smith) to the other two men and
the wizard told him he was Hellion and his companion was a flesh golem called Fred.
Hellion was 68 years of age, or so he said.

During the conversation Hellion said this;

''
    Ask yourself this, how could we would not have let this happen? I remember part of it,
    but as if it all happened to someone else. And I try and think back to what happened
    a year ago and I cannot. There is only now, and what happened a long time in the past.
    And there is more. It was like I'd just woken up four days ago from a nightmare
    but into another one.
    Two days ago I went to the barrier and walked some of its length. There is so
    much out there that is unformed. The ruins look different out there, like they
    are all melded together by dragon fire.
    And the people that live out there, well, you can't really call them people, they
    are more like ghosts. Vague spirits that taken on more of a shape when you approach
    them. They don't speak, I don't think they even breath. They must be some kind of
    undead I don't know about.
    I've got to get out of here! If I don't I'm going to kill myself.
''

They then went back to the gate and collected Corum. Fenrir decided to try the crypts in
the City of the Dead that held portals to small dimensions where the dead of Waterdeep
were buried. At the House of the Homeless they found one of Anacaster's portals but it
was only an empty arch.

There were undead there, lurking in the deep shadows, but they were not attacked.

Hellion told them a story about a snowglobe that he had once encountered that held a
small world in it, in a pocket dimension. He was starting to think that Darknessdeep
might be like that.

At the Merchant's Rest Crypt it was the same thing, just and empty archway where the
portal had once been.

Next the went to the Hall of Heroes which was down in the south east corner, close to
the edge of the barrier. The world seemed faded here and strange ghostly things flitted
about in the shadows.

The Hall of Heroes looked like it had been rebuilt into something larger and there
were crucified corpses outside it and bodies stretched out on wagon wheels.

Fenrir cautiously tried the entrance and saw four Vampire Spawn guarding a set of
tall closed brass doors. They did not see him since he was invisible and reported back
to the others.

After some discussion they decided to meet Hellion back at this place tomorrow once
he'd rested and got his spells all back.

They had Anger bring them back to Kreenan's and had something to eat, then rested for
the remainder of the day.


DAY 212 (9 Marpenoth)(October)

In the morning they went back to the appointed place, guided there by young Anger,
where they met Hellion and Fred.

They went in at full strength and killed three of the Vampire Spawns and making the
other flee. Fenrir opened the brass doors and saw a corridor beyond it.

From now on Fenrir would generally float ahead of the others and scout around while
invisible. They came to a junction with several doors. The first one was a kitchen
that had two zombies in it. These they quickly killed.

They continued exploring and found a dining room with a tiger skin rug by the fire.
Much to their surprise it came to life and badly mauled Corum! Once more though the
magical blasts of Fenrir and Hellion proved the enemies' doom.

The crypt or whatever this building was proving to be, was a maze of corridors and
rooms. The next door they tried had a sign on it which read 'Dr Karl Adenauer'.

Inside was a small study and a grey bearded man sat at the desk. He was prepared
to talk to them and give them information in return for gold. Among other things
he told them that the Hall of Heroes had been converted into a family crypt for
the Heydrich family about thirty years ago.
It's current master was Count Riener Heydrich who preferred to live here than in
the city because he was left alone by the devils here.

They left him and went upstairs to an upper level of this large building and Fenrir
shot down a pair of zombies. In the following corridors and rooms they fought and
slew a strange four armed skeleton and another vampire spawn.

They then found their way to a set of rooms that were used by Katrina Heydrich,
the count's sister. She did not want to fight them, in fact she said she would
like them to kill her brother so she could rule in his stead. The best way to do
this she explained was to find the Castilian, kill him and take his keys.

Fenrir didn't want much to do with this strange woman so he ushered everyone back
out again. The next room down the corridor was a trophy room. Inside one of the
statues came to life and turned out to be a wood golem. Fred traded heavy slamming
blows with it and everyone else helped.

The wood golem was eventually defeated, but Fred and Corum were badly hurt. They
decided to barricade the door and rest for a while.