Avid Horizon

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Avid Horizon
Avidhorizon ambience.png
Avid Horizon (Sidebar)
Located in Albion
Ports The Home Office
Shops The Hungry Traveller

Avid Horizon is a port in the outer circle of Albion, located in the same segment as The Most Serene Mausoleum.

Log Entries[edit | edit source]

Here, the sky remembers the sea. How dark it is. How damp.
You near the Avid Horizon, the door that let London into the heavens. It is closed fast, now.
"I can hear the zee!" a grizzled crewman cries. "Listen! Lapping like a cat at cream!"

Even the Rat Brigade shivers at the sudden cold. They steal extra bedding for their nest.
The Forged Companion peers at the Avid Horizon. "This is where you come from, isn't it?"
The Inconvenient Aunt shivers. "Wrap up warm, dear. You'll catch your death."
The Princess is intrigued. "Is this Avid Horizon? I was occupied when the royal locomotive came through."
The Repentant Devil stamps around the locomotive, draped in stolen coats. Hell is warmer.
When they see the Quiet Sea, below, the Eccentric's cats arch and hiss.
You near the Avid Horizon, where London entered the heavens. "No going back, now," the Signalman remarks.
"Cold, cold, cold," whispers the Incautious Driver, pressing as close as they can to the furnace.

The Home Office[edit | edit source]

The Avid Horizon consists of three parts. The Home Office: clinging to a pillar of ice. The Gate, through which Londoners entered the sky, flanked by its towering statues. And the Quiet Sea, whose waters are home to those left behind.


Approaching the Avid Horizon
Locomotive.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 278100


Approaching the Avid Horizon[edit | edit source]

The very edge of the High Wilderness. The border between now and then; here and there; the skies and Earth. The few lonely buildings of the port face the great Gate of the Avid Horizon. Bordered by two vast winged statues, the Gate towers over the shrouded sea that divides the port and the Gate. The other side of the gate opens far beneath the Earth, on the bleak shore of a subterranean sea. London rested there for a while, while her Majesty was indisposed with grief. A handful of years ago, though, she led an exodus of Londoners through the Avid Horizon and into the sky. You were among them. Do you remember how you came to this place?

Trigger conditions

Avidhorizon icon.png New to the Horizon ≤ 0,

Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
A memory of flight
A hurried escape in the night, fleeing with your precious contraband of uncensored poetry.
A desperate flight
The newly invigorated Ministry of Public Decency hammering at your office door in the dead of night; gaslight streaming through your windows as you pocketed Baudelaire and Boccaccio and made for the college stair.

A carriage to Wolfstack Docks, and from there a little steamer North. Your papers were fake but your money was good. The captain asked no questions.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. The statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and the gold of heaven.
A memory of light
You were always going North.
A quest
You had learnt all you could of the Correspondence in Fallen London. Your hair was singed. Your eyes were wild. It was only a matter of time before the Crown took notice in your expertise. But you would not be constrained by crown and country: yours would be knowledge for its sake alone.

You booked passage on one of the ships bound from Wolfstack Docks to the Avid Horizon, far to the north of London. What better place to learn the language of heaven than from the suns themselves?

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. The statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and the gold of heaven.
A Memory of Service
Your department was put to work, stabilising the bridge to the heavens.
New horizons
Her Majesty had need of scientists. Opening the Gate was the greatest scientific achievement of the age, and keeping it open was a daily miracle.

You would work alongside the engineers of the Eagle Khan, whose knowledge of the natural sciences was a decade in advance of London's. And afterwards, the skies! New discoveries – whole new sciences! – might wait beyond the Avid Horizon. What scientist could resist?

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. The statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and the gold of heaven.
A memory of patronage
A poet must go where the power goes.
The Sovereign School
Once the Gate opened, people poured from London. They were encouraged by a new poetry of escape, of avid horizons, of new dawns. Perhaps you wrote too well: one by one your patrons joined them.

Well, no one was leaving you behind. You booked passage North as soon as funds and good taste allowed. The Empire was being born anew in the heavens, and it would need poets; to ennoble its victories and dignify its defeats.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light!
A memory of liberation
Freedom flourishes when we are unseen. And while the suns are bright, the spaces between them are very wide, and very dark.
The Nocturnal School
It was a risk; to leave the deep, marvellous darkness under the earth. But the sky is home not only to the suns: it is home to the night. You had heard of places tucked between the stars; havens for free thinkers and radicals. You found a ship captain with revolutionary sympathies. Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light! But you were undaunted: you would plant the seeds of revolution in the very fields of heaven.
A memory of fulfillment
In life, as in your art, you sought the sun and the stars.
The Celestial School
When London lay in a cavern far underground, the Celestials wrote nostalgically of the sun and the surface. But when the Gate opened, their muses were within reach. The movement flocked North, penning odes to the warm breezes of heaven, and the song of the stars.

You chartered passage as soon as you could. Your work was suddenly in vogue, and you could travel in comfort.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light! Allelujah!
A memory of duty
Her Renewed Majesty need soldiers to build her Empire.
"Forwaaaaard... march!"
Whatever your private feelings, you were Her Majesty's soldier. She commanded, and your regiment obeyed: "North."

Some of you were veterans of the short-lived and hastily-forgotten war against Hell. Others were fresh-faced and untested. Some craved plunder, having heard of vaults brimming with the currencies of Heavens. Some wanted conquest, and new, verdant lands to make a home in. Some sought honour, or redemption, or release.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of marching
The Regiment went North.
The last command
Back in Old London, the Regiment had a Commander. He was part leader and part mascot, but he was old, and what happened to old people eventually happened to him. On his deathbed, he ordered you North. You'd been free on the rooftops. Perhaps, in higher places, you'd be freer still.

So the Regiment made its way to the docks, split up, and stowed away aboard a score of steamers.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of thunder
You were called North.
The wind's bidding
The Fisher-Kings spoke with the wind, and the wind told them to go North. Things can be simple when you're a Fisher-King.

The wind of Old London lived in the cavern roof. It was sullen, but it was clever. The Fisher-Kings were, perhaps, its priests. It told them of other winds: winds that blew in the draughty gulfs between stars, that spoke in dead voices. Perhaps they needed priests, too.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light. A wind blew through it.
A memory of fear
The Knotted Sock did not leave London lightly.
Homeless
The Knotted Sock were among the last to leave Old London. They lived in a rookery called Old Downy. It was draughty, and it creaked, but it was home.

As the exodus gathered pace, though, panics swept the city. There were riots. There were fires. One of the fires claimed Old Downy, burning it down. Homeless, the Knotted Sock squeezed onto the last of the refugee ships.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light. Perhaps a new home lay on the other side.
A memory of welcome
You fled London for a freer horizon.
Escape into light
When London was underground in the dark, your beliefs were permissible. But when Her Renewed Majesty turned her attentions to the stars, tyranny grew.

It would only a matter of time before the newly invigorated Ministry of Public Decency caught you. But then, as they closed in, you received a Christmas card: an invitation to Winter's Reside in Eleutheria. where revolution has found a home.

You stole onto a steamer making its way North. You survived on condensation until you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of labour
The Ministry went North. You went with it.
Her Majesty's service
When Her Renewed Majesty turned her attention to the stars, the Ministry was to be the principal instrument of her will. No longer would it languish in London's cavern.

You were not given a choice. Your ticket was booked, the hour of your departure appointed. You left on a steamship bound for the frozen north.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light. Here, the real work began.
A memory of vocation
The Bishop took pity.
Clemency
The Bishop of St Fiacre's ordered you to join Her Renewed Majesty's great enterprise in the stars. He did so after he came to listen to one of your sermons, and regrettably found himself sitting beside Mrs Quigg. Perhaps your appointment to the stars was intended as mercy. You were given passage on a steamer heading north, to act as chaplain for its crew. Through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of perfidy
The Bishop's crozier on your shoulder. An assignment.
Old battles
The Church didn't have an especial interest in the opening of Heaven. There were still ministries in old London to tend to.

The Bishop of Southwark had other ideas. "Devils," he told you, "Someone has to keep an eye on them. They have old history with the Heavens."

He booked you passage on a splendid steam ship zailing North. Your berth was comfortable and the zailors appreciated a person of God being present.

Through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of radiance
The New Church went North.
A mission
The church, and its new, bright-eyed clergy, was given purpose by Her Majesty's enterprise in the stars. You were to leave old London to its lightless cavern and journey to a place where light might thrive.

You were given passage on a ship of priests and deacons, admirals and zailors, joined in the golden fervour of the New Sequence. Your bright hymnals sounded through the dark beneath the world.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of escape
Your smuggling career came to an abrupt end.
A thief in the night
Were you the victim of a spy? An informer for the Ministry? You'll never know.

What you do know is that your ship was raided, your crew impounded and your goods thrown into the zee. Or possibly the other way around. Regardless, you were alone and hunted.

An old friend made contact. They knew of one way out – beyond the Avid Horizon. They were leaving their life behind, taking only their boat.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.
A memory of desire
The skies were full of opportunity.
New opportunities, new horizons
Had you lived enough upon the zee? Your appetites fulfilled and your curiosities sated. Beyond the horizon was a horizonless place. There was a sky more sunless.

You took what crew would follow you into weirder waters, and turned your engine North. Her Renewed Majesty had opened the door to the High Wilderness to establish an empire among the stars. You would find your place there.

Weeks later, through the Northern ice and the dark beneath the world, you reached the Gate. Its statues loomed like giants. The door was open, and the space within was filled with suns and stars and light.



The Market of Truth
Sovereigns.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 303700


The Market of Truth[edit | edit source]

Cults from the depths of the Quiet Sea beneath the Home Office have established a stall by the docks. Here they sell their philosophies and the curious catches from the glassy waters. It is hard to tell which more offends the Ministry's sensibilities.

Trigger conditions

Calendar icon.png DateClock icon.png An Opportunity at the Avid Horizon,
Clock icon.png An Opportunity at the Avid Horizon ≥ 1


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Listen to the preacher
Distant nonsense
The detainees of the Home Office have no time for their prattle. The preacher shuffles off in a hail of cheery insults and the occasional thrown rock.
Purchase a Caged Catch from the preacher
The contents are suspicious, but the prices are excellent.
What lies beneath
The preacher reaches for a cage and mutters as whatever is inside it gives her a quick nip. "Straight from the Unterzee," she promises. Airs of Opportunity(CagedCatch) It is hard to tell. Some creature of the Neath, trapped when the Avid Horizon closed its doors after the exodus.


The Home Office
Royaldispensation.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 280901


The Home Office[edit | edit source]

The Home Office occupies a stately, albeit crumbling, manor house on the edge of an icy precipice high above the Quiet Sea. Once, thousands passed through its elegant halls on their way into Albion. The Gate is closed now, though, and has been for over a year. No one comes through, and no one leaves. Now, only a skeleton crew staffs it, and only a handful of incomers remain, stuck here waiting for pardons or permissions that never came. Her Renewed Majesty has a long memory.

Trigger conditions

Avidhorizon icon.png New to the Horizon ≥ 1


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Compile a Port Report
No one pays attention to the Horizon anymore. Perhaps they should.
No way home
The few bureaucrats stationed at the Avid Horizon for one departmental sin or another reside in desperate melancholy. Those detained within the faded confines of the Bureau are almost reconciled to their fate: listlessly hoping for a reprieve from London that will likely never come. Beyond the Bureau, the Sea in the Sky lingers like morning mist. Exiles dwell there on tethered ships strung together, dwarfed by the eternal and uncaring statues that mark the gate to a home that cannot be returned to.
    • Avidhorizon icon.png Report: Avid Horizon = 1 [Hand your port reports in to the Genial Auditor or the Stalwart Bookkeeper at London to earn rewards]

Meet a New Street Line Passenger in the backroom of Murgatroyd's Frontier Supplies
Your contact said they'd be doing odd jobs in the storeroom. She also gave you a key to enter through the back.
A relic
Between shelves of tat, lined in neat rows, a woman with hair as white as cobwebs sits in a novelty rocking chair. She seems to be dead as the Stovie Sam dolls sat among the merchandise.

She doesn't respond when you address her. But when you show her the ticket, her eyes widen. "Someone came looking for me before," she confides. "But I played dead, see?"

She joins you on your locomotive. Next stop for her is New Street Line: Passenger For Delivery(Port).
Present yourself at the Home Office
Protocol is everything when it comes to dealing with London's bureaucracy. Even at this outpost. Especially at this outpost.
To all things, a place
The Acting Senior Probiter is responsible for monitoring all those trapped at the Home Office: the detainees forbidden entry to Albion, with no way back through the Gate. He sits behind a little desk in the echoing hallway of the manor. He keeps three things on his desk: a wind-up clock and two battered mugs. He surveys you coolly. "You're welcome to take a look around, though we have precious little in the way of diversions. Have you been out to the Flotilla? I must ask you not to pay too much attention to the cultists. And if you have not, I'd recommend staying away. There are good reasons they were never allowed into Albion."


Take tea
There's always time here. The Home Office supplements its meagre funds with a haphazard tea-room, open for the occasional visitor.
A good brew
Steeped and stewed, the tea has lingered in the Home Office for a very long time. An elderly detainee leans in conspiratorially. "Much better than a few years back. It's improved with age. Matured." The detainee is quickly shuffled away, so that you can enjoy your tea in peace.
Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.


Inquire about the sea
How can there be a sea in the sky?
Sunlit sea
A satisfactory scientific answer has yet to be presented. Theories have sprouted like mushrooms in its place.

Some say that when the Gate was opened, the Unterzee spilled through, filling the sky like a leaky tap fills a sink, until Her Majesty's Government was able to plug it. Others believe the sea to be variously: the effluvia of the murdered sun; amniotic fluid to support the generation of a new sun; the fault of the Royal Society; an industrial accident covered up by one of the workworlds; the tears of Her Renewed Majesty for her dead prince.

To reach the sea now, one must travel to the Stair to the Sea, along the ice shelf from the Home Office.
Watch the Quiet Sea
The great glass windows at the south of the Office look out on the misty waters. There's precious little else to do here.
Fading light
Peering into the wisps of white mists that dance across the shrouded sea, you can make out a few boats drifting towards the Gate; its statues are hidden, aside from a few pinpricks of light dancing near their crowns. Below the Office, the shoreline is clogged with rotten flowers and ruined offerings from the cultists that live on the Sea. Perhaps they were rejected. Perhaps they were never received.

Game note: You have exhausted these opportunities for now. Return in 15 days to see more.

Advanced query needs investigation

Rare event (50%)
A boat to take me away
A pale emerald light washes the sea like spilt chartreuse. Offerings left by the cults to the Gate blanch in the eery light. Out in the water, someone is singing softly of home and hearth, and a child left in a cradle. There is a splashing of paddles in water and the shadow of a boat heading out towards the Gate, before all is lost to an oncoming wave of mist.

Game note: You have exhausted these opportunities for now. Return in 15 days to see more.

Speak to the Prudent Observer
Once a brilliant astronomer of the Royal Society, now consigned here in his dotage. He watches the Gate.
Divination
He smiles benignly and invites you to join him on the Observation Deck, on a veranda at the very top of the manor. It is reached via a makeshift elevator: a rickety wicker basket attached to a pulley. The ascent is slow, jerky, and uncomfortably intimate, but the Prudent Observer does share his humbugs.

Out on the veranda, where the fog is thick, the Prudent Observer tells you of mysterious activity at the Gate. Of fires out burning on the Statues; of chanting, when the wind is still. "No one emerges from the gate anymore. And no one who enters the gate from this side ever returns. "

Game note: You have exhausted these opportunities for now. Return in 15 days to see more.

Advanced query needs investigation

Rare event (50%)
Halted progress
The Prudent Observer is out on the Observation Deck, telescope in hand. He waves at you through the fog.

Coming closer, you notice his table of log-books. "Date back to 1898. Those tallies mark people coming in." He leafs through a few pages to 1902, where sheaf after sheaf is revealed to be blank bar the dates. "Wasted pages."

Game note: You have exhausted these opportunities for now. Return in 15 days to see more.

Entertain a Request from the Acting Senior Probiter
He's watching you from behind his desk and biting his lower lip. Clearly, he has something on his mind. He does not look happy.
A regrettable duty
"So good you're here, Captain." He clasps your hand. His skin is cold. "I've been issued an Imperial Pardon from London for one of our detainees here." He looks at the three nearest 'guests' of the Home Office, who are following the conversation intently. "Just the one, mind. Procedure demands that someone cannot be pardoned without an independent witness vouching for them. It would be highly inappropriate for me to do so." He gives you a beseeching look. "If you would help, do speak to them. Those three. Return to me when you've made your choice."

Advanced query needs investigation


An Evening of Frivolity
Occasionally, the Acting Senior Probiter has a night off. Then, the detainees are permitted to throw a small party.
An unmemorable evening
Biscuits (some of which are not stale), champagne (flat), and light ale (inexplicable), have been arranged on trestle tables. A few detainees wander around the drawing room, avoiding conversation. You are the life and soul of the party, in that you partake of the food and drink and manage to exchange at least pleasantries with the detainees.

You listen to complaints of years wasted, of friends gone out to the cults on the Quiet Sea, of hours passed watching the Gate, waiting for people who never come. It is a dreary affair. The champagne is intolerable.

Game note: You have exhausted these opportunities for now. Return in 15 days to see more.

Advanced query needs investigation


Deal with the Probiter's Request
You may interview the detainees and follow up on their stories before you come to a decision.





The Pardoner's Tale
Ministryliterature.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 294561

The Pardoner's Tale[edit | edit source]

"The three detainees singled out by the Acting Senior Probiter have taken over one of the interview rooms. The aristocrat is contorted like a contented cat over a rumpled armchair. The courtier sits on the windowsill, a cup of tea rattling in her hands. The nun occupies a stiff-backed chair, and is reading something decidedly ungodly. "

Game note: You may interview the detainees and make your judgement at your leisure. You could, of course, make your decision without interviewing them, but that will render your choice somewhat arbitrary. Perhaps that's in keeping with the spirit of the place.

Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Interview the former courtier
Brilliant, magnetic, merciless, infuriating. Either her personality or her politics have kept her on Her Majesty's List of Undesirables.
Friends in high places
She shuts a small hand-mirror as you approach. "Greying. I had a lovely mane when I arrived here. Red as June, they used to say. Was hoping to see the suns, but I suppose the Palace hasn't forgotten. An MP I am acquainted with had promised it was all water under the bridge."
Interview the handsome aristocrat
He is draped listlessly over a faded chair, occasionally playing with his hair.
A question of birthright
He summons a dazzling smile as you approach. "Oh, at last! My captain – may I call you my captain?" He does not wait for a response. "It's been a dreadful mix up. I have a twin brother in London you see. Terrible sort. Rather ruined my reputation with Her Majesty."
Interview the nun
Surely she shouldn't be here? She lights another cigarette as you watch her.
Waiting sisters
She looks down her cigarette at you and sighs. "If I could have gone home by now, I would've. Nothing's worth this much b____y waiting, pardon my Empyreal. Was going to stay in a convent in the Mausoleum, but that's been b______d now."
    • Originpriest icon.png The Nun's Story = 1 [Go the Most Serene Mausoleum to find the convent the nun was travelling to]

Decide in favour of the courtier
Her spirits might recover if she leaves this place.
A return to court
Her eyes widen as you announce your decision. She bounces from her seat to embrace you. "For the second time in my life, captain, I'm willing to say s_d decorum!"

The aristocrat pales and fixes you with a gaze as murderous as any dark and midnight hag. The nun merely lights up again.

The Acting Senior Probiter thanks you profusely, before handing the former courtier her Imperial Pardon.
Decide in favour of the aristocrat
Perhaps he's telling the truth.
A reprieve
He gives you a lazy smile, like a cat that's spotted something precious balanced precariously on a high shelf. "Thank you, captain. I shan't forget it was you that gave me this opportunity."

The former courtier rolls her eyes in disbelief. The nun merely lights up again.

The Acting Senior Probiter thanks you profusely, before handing the aristocrat his Imperial Pardon.
Decide in favour of the nun
She has somewhere to be. And besides, she's a lady of the cloth.
Pilgrim's progress
"Christ in Hell!" She gets to her feet shakily. "Never thought I'd be on the move again. Was planning my own funeral. Picked out the burial plot – right under his window." She glares balefully at the Acting Senior Probiter.

The former courtier rolls her eyes in disbelief. "She's not even a proper nun." The aristocrat gives you a look of languorous contempt.

The Acting Senior Probiter thanks you profusely for ridding him of her, before handing the nun her Imperial Pardon.
Decide to pardon no one
You won't choose one over the rest. This might be a principled stand, assuming you care at all.
Long time to go
The nun lets out a sharp bark that might be a laugh. The aristocrat pales and fixes you with a gaze as murderous as any dark and midnight hag. The former courtier slumps into a seat and turns her head away. The Acting Senior Probiter thanks you curtly before drawing a pair of scissors from his desk. His expression is avid as he cuts up the pardon.

Game note: No one will receive a pardon. All will remain here.


Defer your decision for now
You can come back to this. The detainees aren't going anywhere.



The Devil at the Avid Horizon
Repentantdevil.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 312386


The Devil at the Avid Horizon[edit | edit source]

The Devil has intimated he has improvements in mind for the Home Bureau. He is not concerned about the objections of current staff, and has requested shore leave to put his plans into motion.

"This place," he tells you, sipping a cocktail of honey and wine, "is a testament to the folly of honest work. I intend to prove it."

Trigger conditions

Repentantdevil icon.png Learning about the Repentant Devil ≥ 1
Repentantdevil icon.png In Possession of a Devil ≥ 1
Location: Avid Horizon
Area: The Home Office
Frequency: Always (100%)

Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Drop off the Devil
Best let him get it – whatever 'it' might be – out of his system.

Game note: The Devil will leave your engine. You may pick him up again at any time.

The start of something memorable
The Devil bows as he departs your engine. "I promise you that I will not regret this," he says. As he opens the doors to the Bureau, he hands the Acting Senior Probiter his hat. "Take this will you." He looks about him with a cool glare. "There are going to be some changes around here." The doors swing shut behind him.
Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.

Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.


Pick up the Devil
He's had his fun. Possibly too much of it.

Game note: You will regain the Devil as a Signaller, but lose access to any Prospects and Bargains he unlocked. You will need to drop him off again to regain them.

The Devil's dictionaries
The Devil stubs out a cigar and goes to fetch his things. The Senior Acting Probiter looks up from his sedan, his expression glazed. "I'll tidy up," he mumbles, downing another glass of absinthe and falling asleep on a pile of pamphlets decrying the Protestant work ethic, the moral turpitude of government and the sin of self-denial.
Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.

Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.


Talk to the Devil
What is it he's doing here, exactly?
The merry devil
The air is heavy with smoke and absinthe fumes. The detainees and the Office workers are lost in a fug of booze and narcotics. The Devil reclines on a couch, smiling.

"Just an experiment. I have a few requests – I've sent them to London. Things we could do with here to keep everything flowing nicely. In time, we might have a few things here that you could buy. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Game note: While the Devil is at the Avid Horizon, several new Prospects and Bargains are unlocked.



Shops[edit | edit source]

The Hungry Traveller

This little canteen has not seen much fresh stock in years; some of the tea has practically fossilised.

Item Buy Sell
Supplies square icon.png Supplies Sovereigns icon.png 40 Sovereigns Sovereigns icon.png 20 Sovereigns
Tea square icon.png Caddy of Dried Tea Sovereigns icon.png 90 Sovereigns

Notes[edit | edit source]

The Avid Horizon is the gate in the Neath that leads to the High Wilderness, this marked the beginning of London's new life amongst the stars. Read more about its presence in the Neath here: [1].

Locations
Region Hub Ports Discoveries / Spectacles
The Reach Newwinchester icon.png New Winchester Carillon icon.png Carillon

Hybras icon.png Hybras
Naturereserve icon.png Leadbeater & Stainrod's Nature Reserve
Lustrum icon.png Lustrum
Magdalenes icon.png Magdalene's
Circus icon.png Polmear & Plenty's Inconceivable Circus
Portavon icon.png Port Avon
Portprosper icon.png Port Prosper
Titania icon.png Titania
Traitorswood icon.png Traitor's Wood
Transitrelay icon.png Transit Relays

Signalbox icon.png An Abandoned Signal Box

Default icon.png Faith's Fall
Well green icon.png Old Tom's Well
Regentsgrave icon.png Regent's Grave
Rose icon.png The Flowerfields
Default icon.png The Regent's Tears
Wreckgeneric icon.png The Silent Saint
Reach icon.png The War of Fossils
Wreckgeneric icon.png Wreck of the Parzifal

Albion London icon.png London Avidhorizon icon.png Avid Horizon (The Stair to the Sea)

Perdurance icon.png Perdurance
Brabazon icon.png The Brabazon Workworld
Clockworksun icon.png The Clockwork Sun
Floatingparliament icon.png The Floating Parliament
Serenemausoleum icon.png The Most Serene Mausoleum
Royalsociety icon.png The Royal Society
Transitrelay icon.png Transit Relays
Worlebury icon.png Worlebury-juxta-Mare

Default icon.png Skyhenge

Lantern icon.png St Anthony's Lighthouse
Avidhorizon icon.png The Avid Horizon
Well purple icon.png Well of the Wolf
Wreckgeneric icon.png Wreck of the Boatman

Eleutheria Pan icon.png Pan Achlys icon.png Achlys

Caduceus icon.png Caduceus
Eaglesempyrean icon.png Eagle's Empyrean
Langleyhall icon.png Langley Hall
Piranesi icon.png Piranesi
Houseofrodsandchains icon.png The House of Rods and Chains
Transitrelay icon.png Transit Relays

Default icon.png The Xanthous Moon

Well yellow icon.png The Well of Wonders
Wreckgeneric icon.png Wreck of the Berrenger

The Blue Kingdom Tolltower icon.png Sky Barnet Deathsdoorstep icon.png Death's Door (The Shadow of the Sun)

Forgeofsouls icon.png The Forge of Souls
Whitewell icon.png The White Well (Wellmouth)
Transitrelay icon.png Transit Relay

Deathsdoorstep icon.png Horologion