The Excavation

Another year has found its way past. It's been fraught with adventure, drama, strife, loss and exploration. Sadly we were all rather busy at the time and didn't get to participate in most of it! We'll try to do better this year, we swear. ( All swears are to be taken at face-value, swearing does not equal actual promise to do anything of the sort. Though we'll certainly try. )

The biggest change, though not the most important tidbit this post will reveal is that we've once again made a change of location. We will eventually find a stable place to set up shop, but neighbors can only handle so many rampaging dinosaurs and rather rude explosions before they pull out the pitchforks and torches. On an unrelated note, I have a large collection of pitchforks and torches for sale, only slightly used and bloodied. For those of you still wondering just where this store is, you can find it by clicking the spiffy link: Autogenica Noctem @ Twilight Tears

Let us forget for now the changes of time. The past is present and the present long since past. Instead let us focus upon the latest intrepid adventure had by Professor Allen and Spunky Sidekick Emilly Orr! A discovery of a civilization lost to the past, longing to be restored.


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(All pictures taken at Worldview of Crie.)

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I awoke that night with the beaded sweat of exhilaration clinging to my skin like a second sheet. The quickly fading glimpses of my dream sparkled before my eyes as I looked out into the shadows around me. I'd flown; hardly a rare dream, I'll admit. I had taken flight however not under my own power but by the sails and engines of a ship that had no balloons hoisting it upon the aether. It swam through the clouds as if they were an ocean revealing to me islands upon the endless horizon and majestic creatures that flitted around.

I didn't even realize my hand was out reaching for that last fading sparkle before I pulled it back, sheepish despite my singular presence. Dreams, truthfully I never trusted them; the insane ramblings of subconscious seeking some matter of settlement on the days past. Hardly a comforting thought when the days past were ones you tried so hard to forget. There were of course, those that said they were instead prophetic, I disliked that notion even more. I hardly needed my dreams having a leg up on me by knowing what was to happen. The Fates were already happy to flaunt that arrogance, lovely women though they were.

This dream however was different, I knew that even as only vague remnants of it teased me with the deftness of the seven veils; not that I'd seen the complete dance, I had only found three of the veils after all. As I pulled myself out of bed much to the protest of the wooden frame and my aching joints, both of which had seemed to conspire together to keep me in that morning, I couldn't help but feel some sort of connection with the fading images. That just made me distrust it even further, I was hardly in the mood to be played like a puppet by some unknown dream that refused to make any sense.

I managed to trudge my way through the morning lull without sparing one thought to what had awoken me with such an energetic start. It was a peace that couldn't last as I looked out across the railing at the sea that stretched out across my view. I saw reaching up from the unbroken sea a clockwork monument, guarded at either side by a globe of what must have been their world. I couldn't do anything but stare at the astrolabe that jutted towards the heavens defiantly. Worn and ruined from the ravages of time, but unmistakable as a mirror of what I saw untouched and unblemished within my dream. I felt rather sure at that point, in a way I previously thought impossible, that the ticking second hand upon its face was taunting me. I do so abhor dreams.

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Day 1 of the Excavation

I had long since dismissed the claims of that impossible pirate as nothing but a foolish prank. I had known him far too long and far too well to do so easily, but his claims had the gleam of a madman's eyes in their very writings. I took up his tip in excitement, the possibilities overwhelmed my better judgement. I'm only human, and the pure thrill of what might be discovered taunted me. Yet the days and weeks of travel to the spot far from any shore had their toll, as my previous entries attest too. I cannot apologize for what I have already written, and I've already refused the thought of ripping the pages out, far too much evidence left behind. I can only move forward, I was in error, and fortunately so.

Today, today was indescribable, the trip was worth it if only for today. The beauty of these ancient ruins, the technology that still defiantly runs onward long after their maker's have been lost? I couldn't wait to study everything, however camp came first. Still, the night's young, perhaps I'll take a stroll and see what I discover before turning in. Emilly has already taken to striking ground and researching some of the writings upon the various bases of the monolithic creations. I'm not entirely sure I trust her with the pick-axe; I'm less sure just where exactly she got it. I certainly don't remember packing it.

Day 7 of the Excavation

A week has passed already? It certainly seems hard to imagine. I've been lost in a whirlwind of study and exploration amongst the water born ruins. The Tinnies have been of the utmost help through the week, Penny is as always excellent at taking notes and transcribing and translating the language. Without some form of Rosetta stone however, I fear it's all guesswork and speculation. Carmen and Maestro have kept spirits high if nothing else, though a week of meager meals reminds me that I really should work on a pair of domestics of some sort. I wonder if I could get someone to model a Maid's Outfit for one of them.

I'd usually ask such things of Emilly, but well, tensions have been running high. Not the least of which is Clockwerk taking the job of photographer. A profession he's taken too with some pride, though he doesn't quite understand the meaning of privacy. I find myself looking behind myself more and more, finding Emilly holding her precious pick-axe in a manner that I'll admit I find somewhat threatenings. I trust her, more than anyone else, but these long-term explorations do have a way of...no, no, surely I'm imagining things. One more week left, I best get some rest to continue work in the morning.

Day 12 of the Excavation

A breakthrough! No, more than that, a discovery. Cordelia and Mer-form Emilly have taken to scrounging the waters for items and interest and from their eager tales they've found something amazing. I'm hesitant to raise hopes at this point, but I can hardly help it. Everything they describe fits with what we've already seen and what I know of technology. It took everything I had not to jump into the water with them, I'll admit.

Tomorrow; the solution for the Hyde Retrovirus is already brewing. Tomorrow I'll be able to take my trip down there with them without those pesky issues of air and pressure. I doubt I'll be able to sleep. Perhaps I'll take a look at the paintings we've found, see what secrets they hold.

Day 13 of the Excavation

I was right; discovery! A mere broken gear has brought back the excitement of that first day. I'm sorry this has to be the last. I'm convinced that given more time we'd find more of these gears. I already have an idea of what they are, but until I find my way back to the Institute I can do little but write notes and idea in utter frustration.  It's like an itch I can't quite scratch. 

Cordelia also found some sort of egg, I barely had time to give it a second glance. The gear subsumed everything around it. Still, we'll bring it back, and I'll see if I can't figure out what sort of creature it once belonged too. After I see just how to make this gear tick of course. How I wish I could see it as it was, without the worn sheen and the broken edge. It's almost a perfect encapsulation of this whole adventure. Ruins and forgotten times, standing strong yet incomplete. What I'd give to know it as it was; at least I'll hopefully be able to take the first few steps towards such a thing.