Ports are locations in the High Wilderness at which you can dock your locomotive.
About[]
Once you approach a port from either of the open ends, your locomotive will be able to dock. When you are docked, the storylet page will display the areas available to explore.
There are two types of port: Stations have shops, and may have several "sub-storylets" to choose from. Most ports in The Reach and Albion are stations.
In Eleutheria, many ports are platforms.
Each region has one Hub station, located in the centre. Other stations and platforms are considered minor ports.
Shops and bazaars are available at all stations, but banks and prospects are only available at hubs. Docking at a hub station will also reset your Terror by 30, though not your Nightmares.
Stations have unique log entries that will display when you approach them. This also marks the boundary of the port's "safe area", where Terror will neither increase nor decrease so long as you are within it.
It is still possible to be attacked by enemies while docked at a port.
List of Ports[]
Alternatively, see Category:Ports.
Albion[]
Name | Circle in Albion | Log Entries |
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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. |
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Centre | (none) |
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Inner | 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. |
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Inner | Here the sky has the hum of country graveyards. This is a place of sky-tombs and stone angels, where the dead sleep. |
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Very Outer (Touching Map Edge) | You approach Perdurance, where the brightest and most beautiful of London's youth are conserved like jewels in a glass case. |
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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. |
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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. |
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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. |
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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!" |
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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." |
The Reach[]
Name | Circle in the Reach | Log Entries |
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Centre | A distant clamour of engine-yards. An accretion of smog on the windows. The taste of smog. The sound of iron on iron. We are home. |
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Centre | (none) |
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Centre | (none) |
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Inner | A carmine glow burns in the dark: Magdalene's, where you can buy comforting lies. "Can we stop at Magdalene's, Captain?" a stoker pleads. "We've been too long in the sky." The impertinence! |
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Inner | A cluster of islands lie in the mists. Strings of bunting flutter, optimistically, between them. Coloured searchlights play across the clouds. They cast wild shadows, haloed in pink and green. |
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Inner | A new smell, behind the coal and the oil: the green, unlikely scent of apples. Ruins claw the sky, the work of giants. |
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Inner | A heady pollen-scent permeates the bridge, fierce as blooming lilies. The sky-winds are calmer here. Lazy breezes, prickled with pollen. |
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Outer | How quiet it is. And what's that smell? Eggs? Sulphur? It is dark and peaceful, here. The stars are few. |
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Outer | Drifting spores clog your engine's chimney. It splutters, then coughs, exunging them with a belch of steam. Fungus covers this place like a blanket. It sprouts - pallid white and angry red - on every outcropping and asteroid. |
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Outer | Golden lights dance in the distance, bright and brief as dandelion seeds passing through a sunbeam. Here, the Reach's verdance runs rampant. You see knotted vines and lurid fungus, and orange flowers bright as polished trumpets. |
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Outer | A flurry of snow blows past the window. A crewman curses the cold. Frost filigrees the window. The crew shivers. A pipe splits in the cold. |
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Outer | A rumble of far-off refineries. Distant searchlights rake the sky. The bridge's clock chimes twice, quickly. This close to the Isambard Line, time is devious. |
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Outer | A forest of towering bronzewoods. The wind is full of fallen leaves. They rattle at your engine's windows. A stoker sings, "I have nae home, nae love, nae gold. I have nae breath; my heart is cold. So fold my arms and raise my hood; and lay me down in Traitor's Wood." |
Eleutheria[]
Name | Circle in Eleutheria | Log Entries |
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Centre | "Can you hear the pipes, captain?" a crewman asks, their eyes bright. "Pan's a-calling!" The sound of far-off pipes. You near Pan, the unruly heart of Eleutheria. |
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Centre | (none) |
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Centre | (none) |
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Centre | (none) |
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Centre | (none) |
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Outer | Coppery lights away in the fog: the lamps of Achlys, a shanty-market for spices and vices. |
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Outer | This is Caduceus, where devils keep a garden of roses. Pillars of stone loom in the sky. You are entering the Grave of Roses. |
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Outer | A neon blaze in the dark: the Eagle's Empyrean! Once they were allies of London. Today, the relationship is more nuanced. This part of the sky has been claimed by the Eagle Khan. |
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Outer | The House of Rods and Chains; a ruined palace atop a rotting Messenger. Now home to uninvited guests of a rubbery persuasion You near the House of Rods and Chains, a ruined complex atop a great dead beast. Once it was the favourite Messenger of the sun. Before it disobeyed. |
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Outer | The Last Lamp-Post gleams through the fog; the furthest-flung piece of london. You near Langley Hall; its windows warm with candlelight. |
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Outer | A stoker sings: "Prideful, a prince was locked in the dark; while a poet was set free. I was the prince, alone and forgot; the poet, too, was me." Piranesi. A prison without doors! |
The Blue Kingdom[]
Name | Circle in the Blue Kingdom | Log Entries |
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Outer | Once, devils ruled here. Now, only bureaucracy |
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Outer | This is the House of Days, where the Pansekritis may be petitioned. |
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Outer | Here judgement is pronounced and sentence executed. |
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Outer | (none) |
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Outer | The sky ahead is smogged with gleaming dust: you near the Forge of Souls. |
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Outer | A stoker sings: "The wind doth blow today, my love, and a few small drops of rain. I never had but one true love, and in cold grave she was lain." Even from here, you can hear digging. This is Death's Door, where the dead tunnel to their final progress. |
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Outer | (none) |