Prologue to Adventure!

My story begins in the bustling town of Tombstone, Arizona. I had returned here, as I often do, to manage certain investments and examine the growth of the town, which is ever-changing and improving upon itself. Not that it is a peaceful or relaxing place; rather, it can be boisterous and murderous if one is thrust into the typical situations of mis-communication that tends to leave slow-to-act strangers either dangling from a rope or staining the street with some bodily fluid or another, too often blood-red, through some misfortune of step or speech. Therefore have I sought a haven from violence here, and found it the reading rooms of the charming and well-armed Miss Connolly, also of Regency, Caledon.

Along with Miss Connolly's station as the editor of the appropriately named town paper "The Epitaph," she also edits a fledgling world-journal of some note "The Connolly Telegraph" devoted to international interest, and covering the doings of many a civilised nation, including Steelhead, Caledon, and others. Above her offices here is a restful library, a den unknown it seems by all but the most erudite locals, and therefore is to me a sanctuary in the storm that Tombstone can be.

In exchange for use of and relief gained by this well-stocked reading room, as shelter to both relax and to review my papers while here, I have agreed to donate time to her International Journal, and aide where suited; and, as this agreement has met with both of our approval, I had once again taken advantage of this offer by stretching out on the library's well-stuffed divan with a volume of Byron, when I heard a summons from Miss Connolly as she worked in her office below..

"Mr Abel??!?"

Hearing the urgent nature of the summons, I quickly trotted downstairs where she bade me sit, with look of import in her expression, she paced a moment, then took seat at her desk across from me. "Esteemed Mr. Abel..." She began.

"Mr Abel, while I do appreciate your efforts and eagerness as illustrator, I really must question the results of your last assignment...Now, you were sent to illustrate the opening of a new haberdashery in town, but the results of this event were...well, not obvious in your depiction. Tell me sir, are you familiar with copper engraving or daguerreotype facsimile?"

I asserted "I am, but did not use that approach for this assignment..."

"Ah, you did use an approach, then?" she rejoined with a hint of sarcasm.

I replied "Yes, Indeed...lately I have been influenced by the schools of Impressionism and Minimalism, and I used a combination of these with my depiction..."

"I see, that explains why the illustration that was submitted to the printer, and reached my readers, of the opening of a hat store...comprised of two small crimson dots in a 6x8 inch square? Frankly, most readers thought they had shut the page on an insect of some sort! Tell me, sir, do you find that depiction to be a clear communication of the Business's opening and products available?" she said, a little testily.

I sputtered a trite "Art...must advance...ummm...see, the one dot was 'commercialism in bondage,' the second represents a great deal on a beaver skin tophat.."

"Mr. Abel..", she interrupted, now caressing her fwc sawed-off shotgun plainly in annoyance. "Mr. Abel, I have a different type of assignment for you that I expect you to be more successful with. I know you are literate, perhaps journalistic record would be more suited to you. Therefore, I have arranged an assignment, and a journey I would like you to partake in."

"Oh?" I said, interested in my life continuing.

"Shocking news has reached us from Caledon, a most unthought-of event has occurred and taken the country by surprise."

"SLRFL is finally over?" I giggled.

She glowered back "SLRFL is a wonderful charity that many people should be thanked for, for working very hard on."

"SLRFL is a wonderful charity that many people should be thanked for, for working very, very hard on!" I agreed instantly.

She continued, "The news I refer to is that a steaming volcanic island has risen from the Sea of Caledon, quite mysteriously, and may contain natives, jungle habitat, and great treasure, for all that is known."

"This is not Regency, then." I spoke, thinking the isle type ill-fitted for a regency romantic theme.

"Not Regency indeed, but a land already dubbed "Phillip" and ready for mapping and inquiry--for, Mr. Abel, --Our readers want to know the vital information! What are the lot sizes and are they pre-booked?!"

I nodded in agreement. "Then you wish me to travel, and investigate, report back, is this right?

"Yes, Immediately. I have pulled some strings with the Caledon Research team to get them to accept yo...er, to add your name to their team. You must return to Caledon at once to join them. You will accept this assignment, yes?"

"Certainly," I said "It is the right and good thing to do."

"Bon Voyage, then" she said as I rose and turned for the door. As I stepped outside and mounted my steed, I thought I heard her chuckling evilly, but that may just be the way Miss Connolly chuckles normally, for all I know. Chuckles vary.

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I stopped only at the telegraph office to notify the expedition's organizer, Baron Bardhaven, of acceptance and soon arrival, then lit out for a speedy ride to Caledon, to Kittiwickshire to assemble supplies for the journey.

I rode to the north coast and viewed the foreboding new isle, jutting rudely from the placid waters of the Caledon sea. What strange adventures awaited there?

I hurried home, packed a trip-sack, then gathered together my pack-penguins for loading...