A bulletin from Balthasar Burblings
Aug. 8th, 2012 07:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
avevale_intelligencerFear, duty, conscience
Who made this storylet?
'Let the Newest see the News,' the Discreet Sybarite intones.
You put your eye to the box. The glow within is faint: it takes your eyes a moment to adjust. The interior is a vast model of the Neath! There's Fallen London, the lights glittering as when you saw it from New Newgate. The zee is black glass. There's Polythreme, marked with a screaming face. The Iron Republic, clamped by its waterfall at the cavern wall. The tomb-colonies rendered in beeswax and clay. The far ports of the East, the brass road to Hell, the Travertine Column to the surface... and there to the south, the Elder Continent. The Carnelian Coast, crags carved like statues, pale and bulbous suggestions of jungles. Vast cities. A mountain flickering with light. There must be a candle beneath the box. And a half-dozen silver needles on the edge of the Presbyterate territory.
'As you can see,' the Detective says, 'the latest finds have narrowed it down considerably.' Her age-spotted hand trembles on your shoulder. 'Imagine it! ... not just deferred death, but eternal youth! And all the secrets untouched by time and hate... we can't allow fear or even conscience to keep us from our duty. If the Snuffers can assist us, they may be a suitable tool. The Garden's been closed for too long. You understand, don't you? You'll help me - help us?'
The rest of the meeting is a blur of esoteric and geographic debate. You don't follow all of it; but you learn a great deal about the Elder Continent. Enough to fear the place as it should be feared. Enough to know that your patron, and the Dilmun Club, hold the key to deep secrets indeed.
Who made this storylet?
'Let the Newest see the News,' the Discreet Sybarite intones.
You put your eye to the box. The glow within is faint: it takes your eyes a moment to adjust. The interior is a vast model of the Neath! There's Fallen London, the lights glittering as when you saw it from New Newgate. The zee is black glass. There's Polythreme, marked with a screaming face. The Iron Republic, clamped by its waterfall at the cavern wall. The tomb-colonies rendered in beeswax and clay. The far ports of the East, the brass road to Hell, the Travertine Column to the surface... and there to the south, the Elder Continent. The Carnelian Coast, crags carved like statues, pale and bulbous suggestions of jungles. Vast cities. A mountain flickering with light. There must be a candle beneath the box. And a half-dozen silver needles on the edge of the Presbyterate territory.
'As you can see,' the Detective says, 'the latest finds have narrowed it down considerably.' Her age-spotted hand trembles on your shoulder. 'Imagine it! ... not just deferred death, but eternal youth! And all the secrets untouched by time and hate... we can't allow fear or even conscience to keep us from our duty. If the Snuffers can assist us, they may be a suitable tool. The Garden's been closed for too long. You understand, don't you? You'll help me - help us?'
The rest of the meeting is a blur of esoteric and geographic debate. You don't follow all of it; but you learn a great deal about the Elder Continent. Enough to fear the place as it should be feared. Enough to know that your patron, and the Dilmun Club, hold the key to deep secrets indeed.
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-08 07:23 pm (UTC)