Caleversary 2

What a celebration it has been! Fortunately I was able to attend several parts of the festivities, and here are the obligatory pics!

First, at midnight monday/tuesday the 24-hour revelries commenced at my neighbor's castle, the manse of Lord Cymru:

The Guvnah himself attended and, at one point, assumed a clever but telling disguise-

Duchess Gloire was able to join for the next set of Waltzes, Lord Primbroke acting as Master of the Dances-

Upon my return to Middlsea the next day, I was delightfully surprised that I had stumbled on a prime viewing spot for the fireworks, joining Hotspur and noble company on his ship's platform-

At one point I decided to inspect one of the skyrockets before it lifted, and found myself hoisted in the air along with it! Luckily I returned to earth safe and sound, rejoining the company to enjoy the marvelous display.

The final hours of the celebration continued at Cymru, with music courtesy of Sir Zenmondo-

As Her Grace Gloire could not join me for the dance, the kind Miss Discovolante allowed me waltz to end out the evening and the festivities.

Here's a toast to Caledon on her anniversary- and to her next year, to her people and her Guvnah- good health and prosperity to each and ev'ry!

Ducal Shenanigans

(Novel cover by Gloire!)

Since my return from the Isle of Phillip, Her Grace Gloire, the Duchess of Middlesea and I have become very close, and fine romance has slowly unfolded between us. Here are some recent moments-

Upon beginning a course of the Masonic Tonic, known as Windlight, I celebrated this newfound clarity of vision and restoration of health with a trip with Her Grace to the shores of the Gardens of Apollo, taking in an exquisite sunset-

Days later, a trip to Flashman's Bar, for dancing, and liquor enough to throw caution to the wind for our next adventure--

Soaring high above Caledon, the Duchess shows her acrobatic skills, walking the wing of the ill-piloted biplane I barely kept aloft. Such a brave woman, indeed!

New years Eve brought us together at the stroke of midnight (SL) in Penzance, for the "Many Midnights" New Year's Ball-

Under the expert musical direction of Edward, Count of Primbroke, we waltzed for hour upon hour-

Many were there, But I should mention another happy dancer, Eugenia Burton, whose rez day fell on the 1st-

Thank you to Emilly Orr; Christine, Countess Primbroke, Miss Burton, and all others who dedicated time and talent to make such an enjoyable ball!

The fair Duchess Gloire and I, having grown quite fond of one another, have thought it best to partner, and share our time together as much as we are able. In recent days, we have purchased plots in the new Steelhead Harborside lands, here we survey the Russian-influenced northwest frontier style home, built under her expert direction, that we plan to erect there-

While currently at our dock sits a reminder of Caledon, my Abeldown riverboat, which awaits rechristening as (what else?) "The Duchess Middlesea."

Windlight Elixer

After many unsuccessful courses of Laudunum, arsenic derivitives, etc I had given up on finding a cure for my ill-vision, listlessness and lethargy; I had resigned myself to awkward moments of obfuscated surroundings and stone-still inability to move or remain conscious for long periods at social gatherings, to my great chagrin...but then came along a new elixer! Masonic Tonic (Of Spurious Derivation but Singular Effectiveness at the Relief of Unwanted Wind and Light-Headedness) also known as "Windlight" has proven to a most wonderful compound! It has freed me of seeing grey blotchiness, of muscle contrition, and of fear of crowded places- my systems, vascular and others, emboldened by my trip to Phillip already, seem improved tenfold! My better system, and vision cleared, the first event of noteworthy nature I took in was Mr Hotspur O'Toole's rez day party- here are a few glimpses-

Automatons attack!

Cosmonauts float!

Pudding-wrestlers battle! (mmm, butterscotch!)

The leather emerges!

Altogether, a wonderful night, free for me from embarassing stiff-leggedness, thanks to the miracles of that magic elixer!

Consiel's Tale

One cold eve at the Abeldown Penguin Preserve, the gathered male penguins shiver in the dark while guarding their young charges, patiently awaiting the return of the hunting females. Tedium and the cold winds grip them, and one, The pengi Conseil, offers a diversion- to relate the tale of the conclusion of the Phillip expedition. This meets with acquiescent , if not enthusiastic, barks, so he sets about his task...


As darkness falls, the pengi sets up his Polyopticon and readies the plates of his travelogue

Conseil tells a tale of hardship, having discovered a vast inland sea below-ground his master and companions had set out on a make -shift raft to reach the far side. the journey proceeded several days, during which he witnessed battling Sea-Bunnehs, dangerous torrents and duels of double-entendre much beyond his understanding.

Yet when the rations ran short, he faced a greater danger, as glistening utensils were wielded by a peckish Baron, indifferent to endangered species laws under such circumstances.

A hasty retreat was in order, and with a splash, he parted from this company.

After some hours of swimming, climbing, and exploring, a vast cavern opened before for the lost pengi, and within, he found a large hard rock of human make. Cold, hard, and glittery, he drew near.

This was an object of human make, to be sure! He would mark it well for his companions to show his safety-

The cold human boulder burst in a fountain of flame and sparks!

The pengi felt the ground shake beneath him! Distant explosions reported throughout the caverns! Debris fell around him as he waddled quickly, finding a new rift in the wall as the rocks spilled away before him, he jumps into the sea and swims, swims!

Bursts of steam rise from the heating water as he swims to sea, minute upon minute drawing away from the loud crashes, hisses, and explosions behind him. Finally, some miles distant, and no longer feeling the sting of steam upon him, nor the fall of debris, he turns and watches, as the island bursts and boils from within, masses of rock falling into the sea.

Within minutes the explosions subside as the island slowly sinks beneath the water, the boiling Sea foam washing over as it descends.

Conseil worries for his companions, but turns home to Caledon, the threat of Phillip now gone.

Conseil relates how all who journeyed to the island came back safely, to heroe's welcomes, and he was most happy to see his master safe and sound again. A bin of Tuna was delivered to him soon after, as reward for his actions; and how, in further reward, safe unburdened residence was granted by the new Duke on his duchy for all pengikind.

Conseil puffs up and chokes back a tear of pride.

Suddenly a request is heard from the crowd of pengis:

Conseil shrugs assent and opens another pack of slides......

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( Also, apparently I've been "Tagged " several times by the following-

**now the rules**The rules of tagging are simple, and as follows.(1) Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.(2) People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules.(3) At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.(4) Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog

So, here are the facts about the writer:

1. I am the son of Beatniks. One a poet/painter, and the other a folk-singer. They knew and disliked Bobby Zimmerman. My Mother would sing me to sleep as a child with songs about houses made of "ticky-tacky" and spanish revolution songs.

2. I 'm not very religious, though have read a number of rare mystical tomes for enjoyment and cultural insight.

3. My favorite autographs are: bloody palm stains from Penn and Teller on an early Skeptical Enquirer article written by them, and a bar napkin signed by Robyn Hitchcock from a bar long since burned down.

4. I did Medieval recreation for a long time, but do it less now as I work weekends and eves. My focus was 14th Century France. In one organization I attained noble rank, and gained skill with medieval weapons.

5. I ventured to Panama for business for 6 weeks once, and found a heaven on earth at El Valle de Anton. Lush gardens in a former volcanic basin, a zoo, hotsprings, etc. Given a choice, it is where I would someday retire to.

6. I'm a film fan, loving classic 40's through modern; love all types of music, having a large collection.

7. I read mostly non-fiction, formerly medieval, now more victorian. Lately, I am re-reading an account of the war of 1812. (eyes Canajians out there warily.)

8. I have a stuffed plush leopard named Leppo I rescued from a stand at Disney's Animal Kingdom. He sits next to me as I type, inspiring much mayhem as Gnarli-Kitty.

Let the tags end here:)

From the Bowels

Miss Connolly, My warmest regards.

Again my apologies for the delay in contacting you. We remain safe, and have travelled many leagues, through the winding tunnels and tubes that descend and twist in the depths of the Isle of Phillip. Such sights have we seen! Your receipt of this notes shows the pigeon has found some adit through which to pass, as it hoped it would.

Let me preface by recalling our discovery of these caverns- You will have known by now of our encounter with the native tribe here, how most of our party was captured and rescued by the daring Kiralette. My role in the plan of rescue was to circle the encampment, approach and contain from the flanking pathway.

I must admit I became uncertain of my route, and struggled through the heavy bush, but soon found myself at forested vale out of earshot of my fellows; and continued my trudging through this brush, ever wary of Bunneh-sign. Suddenly, in the depths of this forest, a figure of a brawny man dropped from the vines above me, clad only in tiger skin loincloth, muscles ripping, and let loose a loud frightening yodel of doom.

Backward I faltered, tripping, splayed as he towered madly over me. He paused, looking over me, examining my clothing- his anger turned to confusion, he spoke in broken English "You. No Icky!... No Spork!?"

Struggling to my feet, I reached for my revolver, but hesitated to draw, as he slowly moved forward, curious , but no longer threatening. He drew a handkerchief from my jacket pocket as I stood very still (as I usually do with madmen). This was obviously some non-native outcast, I surmised. Perhaps, examining the rickety tree house and garden I now saw beyond, I had stumbled on some sort of native asylum, and it's sole resident.

The savage sniffed at the cologned kerchief. "You. Like Jane?"

"Austen? Hrmm yes, excellent reading:)" I said, thoroughly confused. "Have you tried Cleland? It's like Jane, but Norty" I added.

He reached out and thumped my chest with his palm. "You...not...like Jane." He said with a note of disappointment. "Tarzan..need...Jane" he said, rolling his eyes. "Tarzan...Have...Cheetah," he elaborated. "Tarzan...fear...Ebola."

With this, the savage turned and walked toward his jungle shanty, turning once to bid me to follow. Seeing a potential ally here, I followed, to ask direction a back to the encampment, as the rescue effort was soon to commence.

A strange mixture of jungle furniture and modern relics were strewn about the place. A 5-man poker table, worn and disused, deserted by some long closed and forgotten casino, took up the center of the hut. He immediately sat here, and pointed to the other mossy stump"You sit!' Tarzan..play..Holdem."

Examining my watch and glancing at the door, I asked "Can you show me the way to the Itchysporkchowchow camp, old boy? It would be dashed kind of you."

"Sit..first! Tarzan...go...Long...walk...Tarzan...swim...many day! No Holdem, nowhere! We Play!"

I Said "Erm, is that even legal, now?"

"I look...like...Linden? Sit!"

"Well," I said, sitting, "perhaps one hand.."

After sacrificing my kerchief to my host as ante, he offered coconuts, sex benches, and various freebie boxes which I each in turn denied as worthwhile stake. Finally he produced a crudely drawn island map on fine parchment- this I gratefully accepted, and play proceeded. Having won quickly on a lucky draw to three queens I got up to leave. "Tarzan...waste...life." he sighed. "Cheetah...right. Tarzan...is...Fish." Feeling the press of charity, I left my kerchief in consolation.

I trotted off with a bow and examined the map, finding my way to the path quickly. As I folded the map I noticed it was drawn on the back of a document of some sort, well drawn up. I tucked it away and hurried on to help my compatriots; who, by the time I arrived, had been rescued, of course.

As the Duchesses, Baronesses, etc dried, Dr. Sputnik and I examined the map, noting some nearby markings designated with arrows. One we found nearby- an cavernous opening that led to murky depths. The footprints at the entrance showed evidence of heavy use. Baron Bardhaven , examining certain other markings on the map, which I insisted stay in my possession, had secretive conferences with Darkling, and insisted we immediately proceed below.

Lighting torches and loading the remaining Pengis with what loads of provision they would bear, we set out below. Two more had joined our company, well known to the others, a pixie and Strongman- they seemed no-nonsense and just as concerned for the fate of Caledon, and I was welcome for their company. Downward we plodded, through tunnel after tunnel, The Baron oft muttering at each turning, and Darkling lost in concentration. yet skillfully leading. Or being led, it seemed. Soon the heat was noticeably growing, as I think we neared the active flows of the living cone.

This was proved correct as we passed through a large cavern, open below at a side, and the red fiery glow of a lava flow shone reflected against the walls and roof. Onward we travelled. In another chamber this light grew stronger, and the heat caused us to shed all but essential garments, increasing the burdens of the poor pengi. As we reached another passage we halted- before us great rumblings. I stole a peek around our leaders and saw a narrow rock bridge ahead, straddling a river of lava, burning in it's flow beneath. Beyond this- the unlikely sight of sand leading downward, a glimmer of silver water, and a great roaring familiar to me as the ocean side- yet quite out of place so many leagues underground. As the leaders watched, a great ball of fire, a huge lava orb leaped up and sputtered from the flow. And, exploding, molten rock sputtered and sizzled over the narrow bridge between us and the sand. Quite dangerous, I opined, and returned to the back of the group to rest. Taking a moment to examine the back of the map, I read carefully. It was some sort of deed...Lands in Caledon...Patents for a transferable Duchy! oh my! I must investigate this! yet, I knew that there may not be a Caledon should we not complete this quest...perhaps on the voyage back I shall eat a little better.

So I close here, and fasten this note to trusty pigeon, who, with the help of providence and natural gift of guidance will find way to you. Fear not, for all is not yet lost!

Your Servant

G. Abel (Duke?)