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Albion is one of the four regions found in the the High Wilderness.
The heart of London's celestial empire, illuminated by the greatest feat of British engineering to date: a clockwork sun! While the cream of society enjoy tea in their salons and scandal in their newspapers, the wheels of British industry thunder.
The Empress Victoria reigns from her Throne of Hours, exerting authority over time itself. Her favourites are rewarded with freshly-minted months to prolong their lives, while those who displease her are condemned to the Midnight Cells, where every minute lasts a day, and no one leaves until their hair is white and their bones are bent.
New industries flourish. Unseasoned hours are mined in the Reach, then shipped to Albion to be refined on soot-choked workworlds. Casks of stamped and seasoned hours are then delivered to Her Majesty, to be dispensed at her pleasure.
The Windward Company maintains a stranglehold on the trade in hours; but a bold captain could make a tidy living running unlicensed hours to interested parties...
|Name||Circle in Albion||Log Entries|
|London||Centre||The excited shriek of train-whistles. The hiss of steam. The clamour of countless voices. London.|
You near London, where Her Renewed Majesty reigns from the Throne of Hours.
|Wit & Vinegar Lumber Company||Centre||(none)|
|The Brabazon Workworld||Outer||Listen: the roar of a workworld's factories. A leviathan of industry.
The sky smells of smog and furnace-fires. You near the workworld - where debtors, the poor, and the sick are put to use.
|The Most Serene Mausoleum||Outer||A stoker sings a patriotic anthem: "She laid him in the stone's grey grip, My love no more is he; O Albion, I've no consort but thee."
Here the sky has the hum of country graveyards.
|Worlebury-juxta-Mare||Outer||A colourful constellation gleams in the window: the gaudy lights bedecking a seaside town.|
"Wouldn't mind calling at Worlebury," a crewman declares. "Won two bob at the hook-a-rat stall there, once."
|Avid Horizon||Outer||"I can hear the zee!" a grizzled crewman cries. "Listen! Lapping like a cat at cream!"
You near the Avid Horizon, the door that led London into the Heavens. It is closed fast, now.
|Perdurance||Outer||"I've heard no one grows old in Perdurance," a crewman says. "Nor hungers, nor sorrows," says another. "Nor leaves," your signaller adds.
You approach Perdurance, where the brightest and most beautiful of London's youth are conserved like jewels in a glass case.
|The Clockwork Sun||Outer||The light of the Clockwork Sun oozes into your cabin like rancid honey.|
The rays of the Clockwork Sun bathe your locomotive. A bright-eyed engineer breaks into a hymn. The conductor hurries to close the window-shutters.
|The Floating Parliament||Outer||A bleak place, high and windy as a heathered moor.|
"What's that?" a crewman asks, peering from the window. "Parliament," answers his colleague. "What's that?" the first one repeats.
|The Royal Society||Outer||A clattering on the hull. Pebbles, carried by the wind from the stony Ormswold.|
"Yonder lies the Airy," an engineer informs you. "The very roost of science!"
|Name||Circle in the Reach||Log Entries||Notes|
|Well of the Wolf||Outer||"Don't look into the well, captain. The thing inside looks back."||Also increases Terror on approach.|
Shows on the map as a large vortex.
|Wreck of the Boatman||Outer||A black hulk in the mist - an old necropolis train. It's a long way from its route.||Found near The Royal Society|
|Name||Circle in the Reach||Type||Log Entry|
|The Dead Sun(name?)||Outer||Horror||The still-cooling corpse of a sun shudders, far below. Its fires have failed. Its light have died.|
You fly over a dead sun. Its blackened remnants immortalise Her Enduring Majesty's conquest of this quarter of heaven.
|Skyhenge||Outer||Horror||The ruins are arranged in a ring, like the strokes on a clockface, or the monoliths of Stonehenge.|
Old, cold ruins stand here, the work of a conquered sun.
|The Avid Horizon||Outer||Horror||In this place that is two places, the sky remembers the sea.|
|The Clockwork Sun||Outer||Horror||The sun's light throbs in your windows, washed-out and wan.|
|Tower of Chimes||Outer||Wonder||A giant has fallen.|
"His own self," a crewman sniffs. "The very Biggest of Bens."
|St Anthony's Lighthouse||Outer||Horror||A lighthouse, grey and slender, watches over the misty sea.|
A lighthouse looms from the mists. A thin platform would allow you to dock.