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jeanvieve(For Laura, who doesn't FB, reposting here)
Dear folks, I need some fun creativity here, and I'm feeling somewhat romantic, somewhat filled with horror, somewhat fantastical. I propose a new project, the likes of which I started to think about years ago via a Yahoo group.
Anyone who wants to can participate. I've tagged some of you as more likely to respond than others, but by all means if you're in the mood and like the vein, come on in the more the merrier!
I want Edwardian fun, in a small town somewhere near York. I want all the fun of Sherlock Holmes (dibs on Dr. Watson's daughter as a character), a twist of WoD, a hint of tentacled terror from CoC, the town of Wall from Stardust, and any other subtleties from LXG (the graphic novel, not that dodgy movie) that people think would be fun. Mind you, no Byakhee swooping down during full moons, as that's really more the thing of an online mush. But if cattle are occasionally mutilated, or otherwise sensible town council members developing nervous conditions, it's understood that These Things Can Happen, and it is simply Not Spoken Of in Polite Company.
Ellie and William - your home towns respectively are just the sort of setting. Especially Ellie, in the heart of the redwoods, beside a river, with all really big towns at least a full day's journey away.
The basis for what I want is here, how Poddington lingered on without an official MUSH:
http://www.grandiose.com/p
I challenge you all to come up with a character to write about. Perhaps we'll be able to meet now and then via IM or Mails in scenes as we choose. But poetry, diary entries, story form, dealer's choice for how you express yourselves. I'll figure out how to get a gmail site (open to other ideas here) set up for our story and log repositories.
I'll toss out an introduction to the town, a bit about it's history and such, to get us rolling, and perhaps some diary entries from young Mary Watson here in Notes.
Want to play with me? :-)
**********************************************************************************************
The Setting: Three Oaks-on-Wear
The year: approximately 1901
There are not too many obvious reasons that one might find themselves in Three Oaks-on-Wear. The town lies a few hours from the coal seams that are even now in full production further downstream along the Wear, perhaps four hours by cart from the nearest railway station. The prevailing winds blow down along the winding river, toward the North Sea and away from the small village. Explorers through the middle ages in search of local granite and the valuable petrified coral prevalent through the region found the town already established, full of patriotism.
The absolute patriotism of the town has never been questioned, for thousands of years. In fact, here and there around the village and countryside are monuments to the extreme patriotism of the village to whoever announced they were ruling the region at the time. Viking cairns and mounds litter the clearings through the light and heavier woods. Stone carvings to every deity that was official in worship can be found half-buried under the mossy swards by the footpaths along the river and through the woods.
Three Oaks is proud to say that they have fielded a unit in every major battle in England from Edington to Culloden (though other, more official records in London and Edinburgh cast doubt upon this assertion). Still, a local militia drills and practices every quarter upon the green, and all the village comes out to picnic and cheer them on as they go through the motions of being ever ready for action even if that action is more often than not doubling as the fire brigade, building contractors, and pecuniary support for the local tavern.
The goodwives of Three Oaks have seized with glee upon the creation of the British Red Cross, and for three decades have sent collections of elaborately crocheted blankets to the main chapter house in London and reports of how they maintain the local doctor's office, with even the well renowned Dr. Watson frequently visiting from London to approve of the small dispensary and clinic ready to support the war effort.
On the north of the village are the remains of a modest Ste. Osana's Chapel. What remains is an earthwork mound and a low, broken dry fitted wall. The Chapel was very popular in medieval times through the village though little is now known or taught about her. A smaller Church of England kirk is set up, and zealously attended though a very long series of parish priests. (Curiously, few linger long, claiming reasons of damp, nerves, or the failing health of relatives in Distant Cities calling them away.)
Indeed, propriety is very keen in the village. It exists side by side with the touch of uneasiness found deeper into the woods, where the older sites of sacrifice and worship catch the oldsters by unpleasant surprise, the youth with wild imaginations. Hunting in the deep forest is forbidden by town writ, down in the books for reasons that no one can remember precisely but is pronounced with dire warnings of 'over hunting' and diminishing the population of deer and birds. Fishing is done entirely by the locals from the shore, as the river itself has proven treacherous from boats with undercurrents and submerged rocks that have claimed the lives of many an unwary tourist on holiday.
Despite these occasional mishaps, Three Oaks-on-Wear is a pleasant place to visit for an extended stay, a respectable and honest sort of town where no one ever notices anything that is less than upright. They are proud of the number of poets and playwrights that have spent summers in their idyllic time, of the large number of Important Personages that have for their own purposes found reasons to linger in the Village over the years. It enjoys a carefully built reputation of being a modern community, valuing scientific thought over the superstitions and fear-ridden culture of centuries past.
The good ladies of Three Oaks are planning at Harvest Festival a celebration of Queen Alexandra, recently admitted as the first ever Lady of the Garter.
Dear folks, I need some fun creativity here, and I'm feeling somewhat romantic, somewhat filled with horror, somewhat fantastical. I propose a new project, the likes of which I started to think about years ago via a Yahoo group.
Anyone who wants to can participate. I've tagged some of you as more likely to respond than others, but by all means if you're in the mood and like the vein, come on in the more the merrier!
I want Edwardian fun, in a small town somewhere near York. I want all the fun of Sherlock Holmes (dibs on Dr. Watson's daughter as a character), a twist of WoD, a hint of tentacled terror from CoC, the town of Wall from Stardust, and any other subtleties from LXG (the graphic novel, not that dodgy movie) that people think would be fun. Mind you, no Byakhee swooping down during full moons, as that's really more the thing of an online mush. But if cattle are occasionally mutilated, or otherwise sensible town council members developing nervous conditions, it's understood that These Things Can Happen, and it is simply Not Spoken Of in Polite Company.
Ellie and William - your home towns respectively are just the sort of setting. Especially Ellie, in the heart of the redwoods, beside a river, with all really big towns at least a full day's journey away.
The basis for what I want is here, how Poddington lingered on without an official MUSH:
http://www.grandiose.com/p
I challenge you all to come up with a character to write about. Perhaps we'll be able to meet now and then via IM or Mails in scenes as we choose. But poetry, diary entries, story form, dealer's choice for how you express yourselves. I'll figure out how to get a gmail site (open to other ideas here) set up for our story and log repositories.
I'll toss out an introduction to the town, a bit about it's history and such, to get us rolling, and perhaps some diary entries from young Mary Watson here in Notes.
Want to play with me? :-)
**********************************************************************************************
The Setting: Three Oaks-on-Wear
The year: approximately 1901
There are not too many obvious reasons that one might find themselves in Three Oaks-on-Wear. The town lies a few hours from the coal seams that are even now in full production further downstream along the Wear, perhaps four hours by cart from the nearest railway station. The prevailing winds blow down along the winding river, toward the North Sea and away from the small village. Explorers through the middle ages in search of local granite and the valuable petrified coral prevalent through the region found the town already established, full of patriotism.
The absolute patriotism of the town has never been questioned, for thousands of years. In fact, here and there around the village and countryside are monuments to the extreme patriotism of the village to whoever announced they were ruling the region at the time. Viking cairns and mounds litter the clearings through the light and heavier woods. Stone carvings to every deity that was official in worship can be found half-buried under the mossy swards by the footpaths along the river and through the woods.
Three Oaks is proud to say that they have fielded a unit in every major battle in England from Edington to Culloden (though other, more official records in London and Edinburgh cast doubt upon this assertion). Still, a local militia drills and practices every quarter upon the green, and all the village comes out to picnic and cheer them on as they go through the motions of being ever ready for action even if that action is more often than not doubling as the fire brigade, building contractors, and pecuniary support for the local tavern.
The goodwives of Three Oaks have seized with glee upon the creation of the British Red Cross, and for three decades have sent collections of elaborately crocheted blankets to the main chapter house in London and reports of how they maintain the local doctor's office, with even the well renowned Dr. Watson frequently visiting from London to approve of the small dispensary and clinic ready to support the war effort.
On the north of the village are the remains of a modest Ste. Osana's Chapel. What remains is an earthwork mound and a low, broken dry fitted wall. The Chapel was very popular in medieval times through the village though little is now known or taught about her. A smaller Church of England kirk is set up, and zealously attended though a very long series of parish priests. (Curiously, few linger long, claiming reasons of damp, nerves, or the failing health of relatives in Distant Cities calling them away.)
Indeed, propriety is very keen in the village. It exists side by side with the touch of uneasiness found deeper into the woods, where the older sites of sacrifice and worship catch the oldsters by unpleasant surprise, the youth with wild imaginations. Hunting in the deep forest is forbidden by town writ, down in the books for reasons that no one can remember precisely but is pronounced with dire warnings of 'over hunting' and diminishing the population of deer and birds. Fishing is done entirely by the locals from the shore, as the river itself has proven treacherous from boats with undercurrents and submerged rocks that have claimed the lives of many an unwary tourist on holiday.
Despite these occasional mishaps, Three Oaks-on-Wear is a pleasant place to visit for an extended stay, a respectable and honest sort of town where no one ever notices anything that is less than upright. They are proud of the number of poets and playwrights that have spent summers in their idyllic time, of the large number of Important Personages that have for their own purposes found reasons to linger in the Village over the years. It enjoys a carefully built reputation of being a modern community, valuing scientific thought over the superstitions and fear-ridden culture of centuries past.
The good ladies of Three Oaks are planning at Harvest Festival a celebration of Queen Alexandra, recently admitted as the first ever Lady of the Garter.
