Our second trip into the caverns was less than eventful. I reached one of the previously inaccessible areas, only to find nothing of note.
We made a brief return to the Norton homestead before setting off on the next leg of our adventure. Sphinx received a letter from Mr. Hope-- he is at present, she informs me, enjoying the countryside. He sent her some detailed drawings of bees, and she replied with several good sketches of Marvin.
The younger Miss Norton picked up the package she was waiting for, a new pair of boots, more suitable than anything she already owned should she be able to go adventuring with the rest of the party. Our next jaunt promises somewhat milder thrills, and we are all hoping that she will feel well and join her sister in observing and noting some of the natural wonders.
Being so far from my own mailing address, I of course received nothing, but Tristan's promised to go for my mail in my absence. At any rate, I took the opportunity of being so near a city centre to post some letters of my own. A report to Davies on the lack thus far of any Krakens, sky or otherwise, and a few words on the efficacy of his creation. A letter to Tristan, a brief note to Mr. Hope expressing a wish for the lot of us to meet up when the Unicorn comes home at long last and I represent the expedition before the Society*.
An evening to freshen up and enjoy a hot meal on the ground (the Nortons spent the night in their own house, and offered me the use of a guest bedroom, but I prefer my own quarters on board the Unicorn and politely declined), and then we're off north to explore the forest primeval.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
*In exploring what my chronicler refers to as 'the blogosphere', I was for a moment overjoyed to see (what I believed to be) several references to the Royal Scientific Society. It seemed everyone had a link, though I wasn't at all aware of the Society being aether-capable. I was quite confused on learning that it was something else entirely (which I do not yet understand), and curiouser and curiouser, wanted me to feed it (?). How would this even be possible? What does an RSS eat? And if not the Royal Scientific Society, what is it?
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Captain's Log- The Caverns
The younger Miss Norton was not up to making the trip down into the caverns, and stayed on board, she and the ship under the care of our capable automatic navigatrix.
The Sphinx and I descended the fairly gentle slope, lanterns ablaze. The floor of the cavern formed a fairly easy to walk natural pathway, though there were some places we could not readily access. Sphinx had her sketchbook and pencils, and made some drawings, while I took a few small samples of crystal and rock (and, I think, bat leavings).
When I make my return to the Royal Scientific Society, I'm sure I can find a geologist who will greatly want the samples... Mr. Hope will not, as he is interested solely in local soil samples. His study of dirt, he claims, is richly rewarding.
Mr. Hope, I may as well mention here, is an elderly and white-haired gentleman who has several scientific interests, but in the field of geology, he cares nothing for foreign samples, nor for crystals. He is a dirt man, through and through. Mr. Hope is Sphinx's friend who started us writing each other. She tells me he 'rumbled [her] at once!' when they met, though I have now seen her in full drag as a man and found her most convincing. She makes the most curious expression when he is brought up, a smile which is fond and somewhat knowing. Sly, but then, I've come to realize she frequently looks sly and not always with any cause. Her regard for him seems to be almost granddaughterly, however, and she expressed some sadness that with her sister's illness, she was no longer free to travel the long distance required to make a visit. With both ladies on the Brass Unicorn, however, it will be a definite possibility. I assume Mr. Hope is still in the city.
In addition to the interesting rock formations and crystals that one does not see above-ground, there was a small pool (from which I took a water sample), in it a number of ghostly, eyeless fish which took no note of the light from Sphinx' lantern as she made her sketches, but fled in all directions when I dipped the phial into the waters.
The fish are not the only creatures in the cave (to at least mock-disappointment from the literature-loving Sphinx, there were no dinosaurs!). I believe I mentioned the bat leavings (I did not take a sample). We saw the bats themselves a ways in. An infant had fallen from the sleeping flock, landing upon the well-protected decolletage of the Sphinx. I lent her a thick leather glove to remove the thing from her jacket-front, and she worried that, like a baby bird, it could not be returned to its kin.
She looked pre-emptive daggers in my direction lest I suggest that I was running a scientific exploration and not a menagerie, and Sphinx, Marvin (!), and I returned to the Unicorn.
She feeds him once a day now, milk from a small dropper, and has enlisted Lovelace's help in constructing a little cage for him to keep him safe from her cats (I pointed out that her cats were not great hunters, but safe indoors, Conan might have given chase to the little fellow after all, so the cage is most likely best).
We might make a stop in a city with a lively zoological society that is in want of a bat. Until then, Sphinx will draw Marvin from all angles and make notes on his behaviour. If we don't come across any zoologists, we might make a gift of him to Davies, if he can promise not to preserve the bat as a specimen until it has finished its natural life... Davies is drawn to creatures that most people find abhorrent (he has begged us to keep our eyes open for something he calls a 'Sky Kracken', the existence of which is in serious doubt)
Tomorrow, one more trip into the caverns, with a bit of climbing equipment! I want to take a crack at one of the difficult-to-reach spots before we leave the area.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
The Sphinx and I descended the fairly gentle slope, lanterns ablaze. The floor of the cavern formed a fairly easy to walk natural pathway, though there were some places we could not readily access. Sphinx had her sketchbook and pencils, and made some drawings, while I took a few small samples of crystal and rock (and, I think, bat leavings).
When I make my return to the Royal Scientific Society, I'm sure I can find a geologist who will greatly want the samples... Mr. Hope will not, as he is interested solely in local soil samples. His study of dirt, he claims, is richly rewarding.
Mr. Hope, I may as well mention here, is an elderly and white-haired gentleman who has several scientific interests, but in the field of geology, he cares nothing for foreign samples, nor for crystals. He is a dirt man, through and through. Mr. Hope is Sphinx's friend who started us writing each other. She tells me he 'rumbled [her] at once!' when they met, though I have now seen her in full drag as a man and found her most convincing. She makes the most curious expression when he is brought up, a smile which is fond and somewhat knowing. Sly, but then, I've come to realize she frequently looks sly and not always with any cause. Her regard for him seems to be almost granddaughterly, however, and she expressed some sadness that with her sister's illness, she was no longer free to travel the long distance required to make a visit. With both ladies on the Brass Unicorn, however, it will be a definite possibility. I assume Mr. Hope is still in the city.
In addition to the interesting rock formations and crystals that one does not see above-ground, there was a small pool (from which I took a water sample), in it a number of ghostly, eyeless fish which took no note of the light from Sphinx' lantern as she made her sketches, but fled in all directions when I dipped the phial into the waters.
The fish are not the only creatures in the cave (to at least mock-disappointment from the literature-loving Sphinx, there were no dinosaurs!). I believe I mentioned the bat leavings (I did not take a sample). We saw the bats themselves a ways in. An infant had fallen from the sleeping flock, landing upon the well-protected decolletage of the Sphinx. I lent her a thick leather glove to remove the thing from her jacket-front, and she worried that, like a baby bird, it could not be returned to its kin.
She looked pre-emptive daggers in my direction lest I suggest that I was running a scientific exploration and not a menagerie, and Sphinx, Marvin (!), and I returned to the Unicorn.
She feeds him once a day now, milk from a small dropper, and has enlisted Lovelace's help in constructing a little cage for him to keep him safe from her cats (I pointed out that her cats were not great hunters, but safe indoors, Conan might have given chase to the little fellow after all, so the cage is most likely best).
We might make a stop in a city with a lively zoological society that is in want of a bat. Until then, Sphinx will draw Marvin from all angles and make notes on his behaviour. If we don't come across any zoologists, we might make a gift of him to Davies, if he can promise not to preserve the bat as a specimen until it has finished its natural life... Davies is drawn to creatures that most people find abhorrent (he has begged us to keep our eyes open for something he calls a 'Sky Kracken', the existence of which is in serious doubt)
Tomorrow, one more trip into the caverns, with a bit of climbing equipment! I want to take a crack at one of the difficult-to-reach spots before we leave the area.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
Friday, March 19, 2010
Captain's Log- Minor Setbacks
The sisters Norton boarded the Unicorn with three sets of luggage. The younger Miss Norton bearing mostly tea dresses and some clothes fit for travel and varied climes, though she may have had something or other for fancy evening occasions (not that we're like to find them any time soon!)
Sphinx, I fear, is to blame for the excess-- in addition to the silk pyjama-like outfit she considers decent for wearing about the ship, she has packed nothing I would expect for an enterprising adventuress (I know that there is a trade in clothes for the adventuress!). Instead, she has brought one wardrobe of the sort of thing you'd wear to an opera, and a complete second wardrobe of menswear!
I found it difficult to believe that a lady of... womanly proportions, shall we say, could ever pass in public as a man, but she showed me an ingenious padded corset of her own design, thickened around the waist and at the underarm, which is capable of transforming the daintiest hourglass figure into a solid manly torso. We discussed her plans for a compression pant which would flatten down any overly-curvy appearance in the limbs and give those a manlier sillhouette as well, though under trousers, it's not so much a priority. She also displayed a collection of false moustaches and a short wig which I found rather impressive.
Aside from the occasional concealment of gender, Sphinx seems the most honest sort, and I don't see her flair for disguise as cause for worry-- doubt she's a bank robber or anything, just an actress. And I suppose there are places where two women living alone would be taken advantage of by salesmen or tradesmen, certainly talked down to by doctors, a chief complaint of the Nortons.
Well, our crew being not too great in number, the weight of the additional wardrobe doesn't bother me. No, the minor setbacks I refer to go by the names Oscar and Conan.
My pigeon problem persists. Oscar is perhaps the most indolent cat to walk this earth! Erm, or to float listlessly through the skies over this earth. Conan does not seem opposed to a little excercise, but is absolutely terrified of going out on-deck where the pigeons plague us. His mistress is no help, revealing her own worry that a sharp turn or a buffetting wind might send one of her precious darlings slipping off the deck. I don't see a cat Oscar's size falling through the railing... but then again, would he be that size if he did any work?
Well, at the very least, when we're in dock, we won't pick up any serious pest problem. Conan has diligently patrolled the hold for mice (nonexistent) and moths (nonthreatening), and our food supply is in perfect safety.
The caverns are in sight now, but we'll wait for the morning to start our foray.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
Sphinx, I fear, is to blame for the excess-- in addition to the silk pyjama-like outfit she considers decent for wearing about the ship, she has packed nothing I would expect for an enterprising adventuress (I know that there is a trade in clothes for the adventuress!). Instead, she has brought one wardrobe of the sort of thing you'd wear to an opera, and a complete second wardrobe of menswear!
I found it difficult to believe that a lady of... womanly proportions, shall we say, could ever pass in public as a man, but she showed me an ingenious padded corset of her own design, thickened around the waist and at the underarm, which is capable of transforming the daintiest hourglass figure into a solid manly torso. We discussed her plans for a compression pant which would flatten down any overly-curvy appearance in the limbs and give those a manlier sillhouette as well, though under trousers, it's not so much a priority. She also displayed a collection of false moustaches and a short wig which I found rather impressive.
Aside from the occasional concealment of gender, Sphinx seems the most honest sort, and I don't see her flair for disguise as cause for worry-- doubt she's a bank robber or anything, just an actress. And I suppose there are places where two women living alone would be taken advantage of by salesmen or tradesmen, certainly talked down to by doctors, a chief complaint of the Nortons.
Well, our crew being not too great in number, the weight of the additional wardrobe doesn't bother me. No, the minor setbacks I refer to go by the names Oscar and Conan.
My pigeon problem persists. Oscar is perhaps the most indolent cat to walk this earth! Erm, or to float listlessly through the skies over this earth. Conan does not seem opposed to a little excercise, but is absolutely terrified of going out on-deck where the pigeons plague us. His mistress is no help, revealing her own worry that a sharp turn or a buffetting wind might send one of her precious darlings slipping off the deck. I don't see a cat Oscar's size falling through the railing... but then again, would he be that size if he did any work?
Well, at the very least, when we're in dock, we won't pick up any serious pest problem. Conan has diligently patrolled the hold for mice (nonexistent) and moths (nonthreatening), and our food supply is in perfect safety.
The caverns are in sight now, but we'll wait for the morning to start our foray.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Not the Captain's Log
Sphinx interrupting, sorry.
My dear sister Lenore (yes, I know, but it's an old family name, from our mother's side) was ablush and aghast at the idea that people might take away from this narrative the idea that she is some sort of angelic, saintly, magical ill girl. Always ready to rush to my sister's defence, I have made my way onto the Captain's Log to make it known that she is neither saint nor angel.
Oh!
I mean this in the best way possible, of course.
My dear sister Lenore (yes, I know, but it's an old family name, from our mother's side) was ablush and aghast at the idea that people might take away from this narrative the idea that she is some sort of angelic, saintly, magical ill girl. Always ready to rush to my sister's defence, I have made my way onto the Captain's Log to make it known that she is neither saint nor angel.
Oh!
I mean this in the best way possible, of course.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Captain's Log- Gathering the Crew
My mechanical navigatrix and I arrived at Chez Norton in record time-- a trip halfway 'round the world never flew by so quickly! Of course, this time there were no stops... still, airship travel has proven to be a boon. The most troublesome aspect of this particular trip was the pigeons that kept cluttering up the outside deck. One found a way inside, and it was an exhausting day chasing it back out and cleaning up after the leavings.
The door was answered by a well-dressed lady, clearly not a maid, and I informed her that I had been regularly writing her brother, and inquired if he was in. She gave me a most inscrutable smile and led me into the parlor, where a young girl, also well-dressed, was at tea.
You can imagine my momentary surprise, when said young girl introduced herself as the younger Miss Norton, and explained to me that the lady who led me in was in fact the 'brother' I had come to visit.
The younger Miss Norton's age is impossible to pin down by merely looking at her. She is at one moment a woman and the next a child. Popular literature often likes to portray the chronically ill as angelic, as if to somehow elevate their suffering, and it had until now been my experience that they rarely were. Sick people were just that-- sick. Wan. In pain. I wonder if the younger Miss Norton has herself had any influence on popular literature, for she is little and ethereal, and within mere moments I honestly did feel as though she could be my own little sister.
Sphinx (I doubt she would take kindly to being called 'the elder Miss Norton'...) spoke with me at length about the voyage, and seemed quite eager. It seems medical science has not been progressing to the Norton sisters' satisfaction in their corner of civilisation, and she was very interested in taking her sister abroad to look for different cures. They had already experimented with some eastern medicine, and found it helpful (such the benefit of the influence of the Orient on the western coast here).
Having been at one time or another suspected of every ailment known to man, the younger Miss Norton was something of an expert on medical care, and gladly volunteered to act as a sort of ship's nurse on our voyage. Sphinx, I learned, is a magnificent cook as well as an admirable artist when it comes to sketching down the natural world.
It was not the full complement I had originally hoped for, but having an automaton at the helm meant we did not need a full human crew, and could fly all night as well as day. And, the sisters Norton brought with them two more valued crew members-- Oscar and Conan. Oscar is a large, grey longhair, and Conan is smaller, white and orange, with folded ears. Sphinx has doted on them from kittenhood, and would not leave them behind, but all I could think was that I finally had a means of banishing those pigeons!
The lot of us set out to observe some strange caverns not too far off from here.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
The door was answered by a well-dressed lady, clearly not a maid, and I informed her that I had been regularly writing her brother, and inquired if he was in. She gave me a most inscrutable smile and led me into the parlor, where a young girl, also well-dressed, was at tea.
You can imagine my momentary surprise, when said young girl introduced herself as the younger Miss Norton, and explained to me that the lady who led me in was in fact the 'brother' I had come to visit.
The younger Miss Norton's age is impossible to pin down by merely looking at her. She is at one moment a woman and the next a child. Popular literature often likes to portray the chronically ill as angelic, as if to somehow elevate their suffering, and it had until now been my experience that they rarely were. Sick people were just that-- sick. Wan. In pain. I wonder if the younger Miss Norton has herself had any influence on popular literature, for she is little and ethereal, and within mere moments I honestly did feel as though she could be my own little sister.
Sphinx (I doubt she would take kindly to being called 'the elder Miss Norton'...) spoke with me at length about the voyage, and seemed quite eager. It seems medical science has not been progressing to the Norton sisters' satisfaction in their corner of civilisation, and she was very interested in taking her sister abroad to look for different cures. They had already experimented with some eastern medicine, and found it helpful (such the benefit of the influence of the Orient on the western coast here).
Having been at one time or another suspected of every ailment known to man, the younger Miss Norton was something of an expert on medical care, and gladly volunteered to act as a sort of ship's nurse on our voyage. Sphinx, I learned, is a magnificent cook as well as an admirable artist when it comes to sketching down the natural world.
It was not the full complement I had originally hoped for, but having an automaton at the helm meant we did not need a full human crew, and could fly all night as well as day. And, the sisters Norton brought with them two more valued crew members-- Oscar and Conan. Oscar is a large, grey longhair, and Conan is smaller, white and orange, with folded ears. Sphinx has doted on them from kittenhood, and would not leave them behind, but all I could think was that I finally had a means of banishing those pigeons!
The lot of us set out to observe some strange caverns not too far off from here.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
Captain's Log- The Start of the Whole Thing
A rather engaging young lady has taken up the task of novelising my adventures, and it has been suggested that I aid her in her endeavour by keeping a log of all the important happenings. She has kindly set me up on the Aethernet that I might share these little ramblings with the world at large, and I thought it best I begin at the beginning.
Our adventures began when I obtained the airship The Brass Unicorn (named her myself!), and set about putting a crew together for the purpose of scientific expeditions and all-around adventure.
First I put myself in contact with a dear friend, Tristan Abelard Fairfax, man of science, philosopher, and all-around good egg. Tristan is, disappointingly, quite the homebody, and declined my invitation, but it was my plan to hammer away at his defences (I believe here is where they commonly insert a ';)', to indicate jocular manner?)!
My second choice, as far as men of science go, was Professor Herbert Davies. Davies is... less calm, compared to my friend Tristan Fairfax. But, Davies is a brilliant engineer, a master of automata, a keen devotee of the study of ocean life (not sure how useful that is up in the air...), and like myself, he has a bit of an interest in swordsmanship. Sadly, for various reasons (it's all tied up with the Royal Scientific Society, politics and money I imagine), he can't run off with me just yet. Still, he's shown an interest, and may join us at a later date. In any case, he did supply me with my first crew member, a navigatrix in the form of Miss Lovelace Babbage.
Miss Lovelace Babbage is what Davies calls a 'gynoid', a woman-shaped automaton. Her name reflects her computational heritage, but she has thus far demonstrated an unerring sense of direction and a comprehensive understanding of maps and such. As for personality, she is a bit lacking, true, but one can't ask the moon.
With navigation handled, but still needing a good man of science to spearhead discoveries in those areas which are not my own forte, I turned to Mr. Norton.
Mr. Norton (whose Christian name I do not know, but whose friends call him 'Sphinx', for reasons unknown-- then again, perhaps his unknowability is the reason?) I have been in contact with through letters only. Our addresses were exchanged through a mutual acquaintance in the Royal Scientific Society, and Mr. Norton includes detailed drawings in many of his letters that reflect an aptitude for the natural sciences and life observation. Our correspondence has been intellectually stimulating, and he shows a ready wit, so I had extended to him my invitation.
After said invitation, I received a letter in which Norton regretfully informed me that he had an ill sister in his care and that this might prove an obstacle. I promised that, were the young lady able to travel, she would have her own private berth on the Unicorn, and would be under my protection as though she were my own sister. For the first time, I then set out for Norton's home address, where I hoped to persuade him in person.
In my next installment, I shall bring together the rest of the crew as we were on the start of our voyage, and describe the manner in which we set out, and what our specific aims were upon that maiden trip.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
Our adventures began when I obtained the airship The Brass Unicorn (named her myself!), and set about putting a crew together for the purpose of scientific expeditions and all-around adventure.
First I put myself in contact with a dear friend, Tristan Abelard Fairfax, man of science, philosopher, and all-around good egg. Tristan is, disappointingly, quite the homebody, and declined my invitation, but it was my plan to hammer away at his defences (I believe here is where they commonly insert a ';)', to indicate jocular manner?)!
My second choice, as far as men of science go, was Professor Herbert Davies. Davies is... less calm, compared to my friend Tristan Fairfax. But, Davies is a brilliant engineer, a master of automata, a keen devotee of the study of ocean life (not sure how useful that is up in the air...), and like myself, he has a bit of an interest in swordsmanship. Sadly, for various reasons (it's all tied up with the Royal Scientific Society, politics and money I imagine), he can't run off with me just yet. Still, he's shown an interest, and may join us at a later date. In any case, he did supply me with my first crew member, a navigatrix in the form of Miss Lovelace Babbage.
Miss Lovelace Babbage is what Davies calls a 'gynoid', a woman-shaped automaton. Her name reflects her computational heritage, but she has thus far demonstrated an unerring sense of direction and a comprehensive understanding of maps and such. As for personality, she is a bit lacking, true, but one can't ask the moon.
With navigation handled, but still needing a good man of science to spearhead discoveries in those areas which are not my own forte, I turned to Mr. Norton.
Mr. Norton (whose Christian name I do not know, but whose friends call him 'Sphinx', for reasons unknown-- then again, perhaps his unknowability is the reason?) I have been in contact with through letters only. Our addresses were exchanged through a mutual acquaintance in the Royal Scientific Society, and Mr. Norton includes detailed drawings in many of his letters that reflect an aptitude for the natural sciences and life observation. Our correspondence has been intellectually stimulating, and he shows a ready wit, so I had extended to him my invitation.
After said invitation, I received a letter in which Norton regretfully informed me that he had an ill sister in his care and that this might prove an obstacle. I promised that, were the young lady able to travel, she would have her own private berth on the Unicorn, and would be under my protection as though she were my own sister. For the first time, I then set out for Norton's home address, where I hoped to persuade him in person.
In my next installment, I shall bring together the rest of the crew as we were on the start of our voyage, and describe the manner in which we set out, and what our specific aims were upon that maiden trip.
Captain Burton Wilder
The Brass Unicorn
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