The Clockwork Sun

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The Clockwork Sun
Clockworksun ambience.png
The Clockwork Sun (Sidebar)
Located in Albion
Ports Sunspur
Shops The Decommissary

The Clockwork Sun is a station in the outer circle of Albion, located in the same segment as The Royal Society. It is surrounded by a Horror Spectacle, although the small area around the actual station does not increase Terror.

Log Entries[edit | edit source]

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.
You risk a direct glance at the Clockwork Sun. It is the gold of toffee-wrappers, not of fire.

Light from the Clockwork Sun smears the windows. "It's dimmed since I saw it last," the Fatalistic Signalman says.
The Incautious Driver looks anxiously at the sun: "The Light of Albion. Even I didn't dare get this close."
The Incognito Princess stares down the Clockwork Sun. She says nothing.
The Rat Brigade salutes the Clockwork Sun. A patriotic tear wells in Albrecht's eye.
The Repentant Devil's skin glistens in the light. Like moonbeams on glass.
Your Blemmigan Voyager has become fascinated with the Clockwork Sun. You are forced to prise it away from the window. Is there a certain glassiness, now, to its beak?
"Humans have chained a sun?" Is that awe in the Forged Companion's voice?
"Our moon is nicer." The Fortunate Navigator grins. "Less... gaudy."
"This 'sun' is a trifle ostentatious." The Inconvenient Aunt struggles to hide her awe.

Sunspur[edit | edit source]

The dock is rarely used and its maintenance has lapsed. There's evidence of rust and metal stain, but only of none-crucial components - it's safe to stop, for now. Once inside the dock, the sun's scoring light is diminished.

Arrival at the Sun
Stainedglass.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 287648


Arrival at the Sun[edit | edit source]

"An outpost on the roaring edge of the Sun, shielded from malevolent light by an eggshell of stained glass. As you emerge from your train, suit-swaddled engineers gather, plainly astonished by your arrival. They bombard you with complex questions about how you dealt with dense sunlight and skewed chronosolar fields. Once satisfied, they hand out protective suits to you and your crew. Yours is patched and torn, one boot missing. "

Game note: You successfully reached the Clockwork Sun!


Trigger conditions

Clockworksun icon.png Yearning, Burning ≤ 0,


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Shrug into your suit
An engineer sprays you with a substance that smells like lemons gone wrong, and searches your pockets. A cursory effort at best. They seem distracted.


Scavenging with the Dawn Rats
Supplies.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 303688


Scavenging with the Dawn Rats[edit | edit source]

A nervous face whispers to you from behind a bulkhead. "Help us. We were brought here to build the Clockwork Sun. Lots of abandoned storerooms. Help us raid them and take your fill. Safety in numbers. The Sun despises thieves, but its anger can't shine on all of us."

Trigger condition

Calendar icon.png DateClock icon.png An Opportunity at the Clockwork Sun,
Clock icon.png An Opportunity at the Clockwork Sun ≥ 1


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Send crew to scavenge for fuel
A risky endeavour, but perhaps worth it.
Failed event Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.

Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.


Shadows of the Sun
Not all of your crew returns. The survivors refuse to speak of what happened on their mission. They silently roll the stolen fuel into the cargo hold, flinching at shafts of light.
Successful event
A Pyrrhic victory
Hours pass before your crew members return, rolling freshly unearthed barrels. The leader hands them to you with a carefully gloved hand.
Send crew to scavenge for supplies
Food is scarce in this corner of the High Wilderness.
Failed event Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.

Advanced alteration value probably needs examination.


Wrath of the Sun
Not all of your crew returns. The survivors refuse to speak of what happened on their mission. They silently carry the supplies into the cargo hold, piling them in the deepest shadows.
Rare failed event (45%)
A souvenir of the Sun
Hours pass before your crew members return, laden with dusty parcels. The leader now walks with the aid of a stick. The Dawn Rat is not with them.
Successful event
A souvenir of the Sun
Hours pass before your crew members return, laden with dusty parcels. The leader now walks with a limp. The Dawn Rat is not with them.


The Clockwork Sun
Hull.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 283586


The Clockwork Sun[edit | edit source]

Sunlight seeps like syrup though cracks in the stained-glass ceiling. The floor shudders in time with the churning machinery far beneath your feet. The air has a tang of chemicals, bonfires and rain. Pistons pump, cogs turn, and suit-swaddled figures tend to the enginery, bellowing over the shrieking metal.

Trigger conditions

Clockworksun icon.png The Steward is Behaving Oddly ≤ 0,
Clockworksun icon.png Yearning, Burning ≥ 1 ≤ 1,


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Sabotage the sun for the Whisperwinds
You made an oath to earn the clemency of the Storm that Speaks.
Write a Port Report
The Clockwork Sun is the pre-eminent symbol of the Empire's heavenly dominion. The newspapers in London call it enduring, everlasting, eternal.
The heart of the Empire
In response to your questions, the engineers shrug. The day dawns, the Sun brightens. The night comes, the Sun dims. What more is there to say? Some of them seem so exhausted they can barely stand. They insist it's proximity to the Sun that affects their sleep.
Write a Port Report
The Clockwork Sun is the pre-eminent symbol of the Empire's heavenly dominion. The newspapers in London call it enduring, everlasting, eternal.
The heart of the Empire
Engineers flock to you. You need to tell London what's happening up here, they say. Tell them to send more engineers. Send resources. Send help. Something, anything.

Without the expertise of the Steward, things are bleak. Engines burned out. Small, possibly-crucial, certainly-irreplaceable components warped beyond repair. A forgotten part of the Sun's deeper machinery has simply stopped moving, and no one is sure if it was something important.

Every night, a new defect. Every morning, the Sun takes longer to dawn.
Write a Port Report
The Clockwork Sun is the pre-eminent symbol of the Empire's heavenly dominion. The newspapers in London call it enduring, everlasting, eternal.
The heart of the Empire
Engineers flock to you. You need to tell London what's happening up here, they say. Tell them to send more engineers. Send resources. Send help. Something, anything. They list a litany of recent faults: a broken cog, a snapped belt, unpredictable flares. More engineers swallowed by light or vitrified. And every morning, the Sun has been taking longer and longer to reach full incandescence.
Enquire after the lost sigils
You're looking for sigils of the Correspondence. Do any of the engineers here know of any in the Clockwork Sun?
Directed elsewhere
"Go speak to the Sequencer, in Azimuth," says an engineer. "If anyone knows, he will."
Head toward the sundial-shaped building
"You'll be the Sequencer's new favourite project," one of the engineers tells you. "It'll keep him out of our hair for a while."
Azimuth
Azimuth is an enormous sundial without shadow, its roof topped by a golden shark-fin gnomon. There are still racks of yellowed pamphlets on the walls – it once served as a kiosk, selling tickets to sunspotters: the pilgrims and tourists that were expected to flock here. These days it is more like a temple. Frescoes on the curved walls depict the triumph of the new sun over the old.
Visit the Glasshouse
There's a dozen signs warning you to stay away, each more insistent than the last. The engineers shout, but they're too busy to stop you.
The Glasshouse
An isolated section of the abandoned exhibition-halls has been repurposed to hold not treasures, but prisoners. Each wears a grey smock rather than a protective suit, leaving them utterly undefended from the ravages of sunlight. They sit slumped in unlocked cells, making no effort to escape. Where would they go?
Descend to the vaults beneath the surface
The vaults below are safer, protected by a dozen layers of stained glass.
The Terpsichore Vault
Beneath the machine-bristling surface you find a ring of nine vault-doors, each engraved with the name of a classical Muse. Eight are locked and barred, behind signs saying things like 'VACANT' or 'UNDER RENOVATION' or, in one case, 'UNFORTUNATE CHRONOLOGICAL DISCREPANCIES.'

The ninth, marked 'Terpsichore,' is the only door open to you. When you enter, your footsteps ring through dusty barracks and abandoned canteens. These are the engineers' quarters, but they are all on the surface, working. Except one.

The Broken Steward has been working on the Sun since before it first shone. She has been here far, far longer than any of the engineers above.
The Steward's Sanctum
Deep beneath the surface of the Sun, the Steward labours.
Descend to the vaults beneath the surface
The vaults below are safer than the surface, protected by a dozen layers of stained glass.
The Terpsichore Vault
Beneath the machine-strewn surface you find a ring of nine vault-doors, each engraved with the name of a classical Muse. Eight are locked and barred, behind signs saying things like 'VACANT' or 'UNDER RENOVATION' or, in one case, 'UNFORTUNATE CHRONOLOGICAL DISCREPANCIES.'

The ninth, marked 'Terpsichore,' is the only door open to you. When you enter, your footsteps ring through dusty barracks and abandoned canteens. These are the engineers' quarters, but they are all on the surface, working. Except one.

You can hear her singing before you see her.



The Clockwork Sun
Hull.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284509

The Clockwork Sun[edit | edit source]

Sunlight seeps like syrup though cracks in the stained-glass ceiling. The floor shudders in time with the churning machinery far beneath your feet. The air has a tang of chemicals, bonfires and rain. Pistons pump, cogs turn, and suit-swaddled figures tend to the enginery, bellowing over the shrieking metal.

Trigger conditions

Clockworksun icon.png Yearning, Burning ≥ 2

Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Sabotage the sun for the Whisperwinds
You made an oath to earn the clemency of the Storm that Speaks.
Write a Port Report
The Clockwork Sun is the pre-eminent symbol of the Empire's heavenly dominion. The newspapers in London call it enduring, everlasting, eternal.
The heart of the Empire
In response to your questions, the engineers shrug. The day dawns, the Sun brightens. The night comes, the Sun dims. What more is there to say? Some of them seem so exhausted they can barely stand. They insist it's proximity to the Sun that affects their sleep.
Write a Port Report
The Clockwork Sun is the pre-eminent symbol of the Empire's heavenly dominion. The newspapers in London call it enduring, everlasting, eternal.
The heart of the Empire
Engineers flock to you. You need to tell London what's happening up here, they say. Tell them to send more engineers. Send resources. Send help. Something, anything. They list a litany of recent faults: a broken cog, a snapped belt, unpredictable flares. More engineers swallowed by light or vitrified. And every morning, the Sun has been taking longer and longer to reach full incandescence.
Write a Port Report
The Clockwork Sun is the pre-eminent symbol of the Empire's heavenly dominion. The newspapers in London call it enduring, everlasting, eternal.
The heart of the Empire
Engineers flock to you. You need to tell London what's happening up here, they say. Tell them to send more engineers. Send resources. Send help. Something, anything.

Without the expertise of the Steward, things are bleak. Engines burned out. Small, possibly-crucial, certainly-irreplaceable components warped beyond repair. A forgotten part of the Sun's deeper machinery has simply stopped moving, and no one is sure if it was something important.

Every night, a new defect. Every morning, the Sun takes longer to dawn.
Enquire after the lost sigils
You're looking for sigils of the Correspondence. Do any of the engineers here know of any in the Clockwork Sun?
Directed elsewhere
"Go speak to the Sequencer, in Azimuth," says an engineer. "If anyone knows, he will."
Head toward Azimuth
The engineers wave you onward, shouting something cheerfully derogatory about the Sequencer. It's mostly lost in the roar of pistons.
Azimuth
Azimuth is an enormous sundial without shadow, its roof topped by a golden shark-fin gnomon. There are still racks of yellowed pamphlets on the walls – it once served as a kiosk, selling tickets to Sunspotter tourists. These days it is something more like a temple. Frescoes on the curved walls depict the triumph of the new sun over the old.
Head toward Azimuth
The engineers wave you onward, shouting something cheerfully derogatory about the Sequencer. It's mostly lost in the roar of pistons.
Azimuth
Azimuth is an enormous sundial without shadow, its roof topped by a golden shark-fin gnomon. There are still racks of yellowed pamphlets on the walls – it once served as a kiosk, selling tickets to sunspotters: the pilgrims and tourists that were expected to flock here. These days it is something more like a temple. Frescoes on the curved walls depict the triumph of the new sun over the old.
Visit the Glasshouse
There's a dozen signs warning you to stay away, each more insistent than the last. The engineers shout, but they're too busy to stop you.
The Glasshouse
An isolated section of the abandoned exhibition-halls has been repurposed to hold not treasures, but prisoners. Each wears a grey smock rather than a protective suit, leaving them utterly undefended from the ravages of sunlight. They sit slumped in unlocked cells, making no effort to escape. Where would they go?
Descend to the Terpsichore Vault
The vaults below are safer, protected by a dozen layers of stained glass.
The Terpsichore Vault
Beneath the machine-bristling surface you find a ring of nine vault-doors, each engraved with the name of a classical Muse. Eight are locked and barred, behind signs saying things like 'VACANT' or 'UNDER RENOVATION' or, in one case, 'UNFORTUNATE CHRONOLOGICAL DISCREPANCIES.'

The ninth, marked 'Terpsichore,' is the only door open to you. When you enter, your footsteps ring through dusty barracks and abandoned canteens. These are the engineers' quarters, but they are all on the surface, working. Except one.

The Broken Steward has been working on the Sun since before it first shone. She has been here far, far longer than any of the engineers above.
The Steward's Sanctum
Deep beneath the surface of the Sun, the Steward labours.
Descend to the Terpsichore Vault
The vaults below are safer than the surface, protected by a dozen layers of stained glass.
The Terpsichore Vault
Beneath the machine-bristling surface you find a ring of nine vault-doors, each engraved with the name of a classical Muse. Eight are locked and barred, behind signs saying things like 'VACANT' or 'UNDER RENOVATION' or, in one case, 'UNFORTUNATE CHRONOLOGICAL DISCREPANCIES.'

The ninth, marked 'Terpsichore,' is the only door open to you. When you enter, your footsteps ring through dusty barracks and abandoned canteens. These are the engineers' quarters, but they are all on the surface, working. Except one.

You can hear her singing before you see her.
Find the Race Marshal
Lord Rochester is patrolling the upper chambers, humming cheerily to himself. He needs to confirm you've reached the Clockwork Sun.
Keeping up the pace
Lord Rochester beams as he sees you, ignoring the throngs of engineers attempting to manoeuvre him away from some of the more intricate machinery. "Capital! Knew you'd make it. I say, do you have any idea what this does?" A senior engineer hurries you away, along with the supplies Lord Rochester was holding for you, as an alarm begins to sound.
Nail philosophical Theses to the door of Azimuth
Your actions are blasphemy to the Clockwork Sun itself. You better be quick, and ensure your suit is fastened tightly.
Hammered home
You hold the Theses to Azimuth's heavy oak door and hammer them in. Then you turn and walk hurriedly away – someone is sure to have heard you. Sure enough, a forlorn figure in a yellow collar bursts from Azimuth and shouts something plaintive about the cost of door replacement. You flee, leaving the Dazzled Steward's anguished protestations far behind. You suspect he'll be even more upset when he reads the blasphemous Theses.



Azimuth
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284267


Azimuth[edit | edit source]

"A figure in a yellow-collared protective suit is delivering a sing-song sermon to mostly empty pews. The Dazzled Sequencer looks up, delighted at your approach, and hurriedly wraps up his speech. Varying Sequencer Description(sequencer_description)"


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Ask the Dazzled Sequencer about his role on the Sun
The only other people up here are disturbed prisoners and exhausted engineers.
The Sequencer's Function
"I'm a priest of the New Sequence!" declares the Sequencer. "The brightest truth! The wildfire that has swept Albion!" He points out at the expanse of the Sun. "There burns a beacon, a saviour, an aspect of God. We venerate the Clockwork Sun and its immortal architect, our Empress. I'm here to greet pilgrims and safeguard the souls of our engineers." "Azimuth is also the only access-route to the Sun-Shattered Dome, an exhibition-hall that was built back when we received more visitors. The Dome is terribly dangerous and I advise you to avoid it, no matter how much you hear about the priceless artifacts inside."
Request access to the Sun-Shattered Dome
Beyond Azimuth lies the maze of abandoned exhibition-halls, crowned by a magnificent broken dome.
Reluctant assent
The Sequencer obviously takes his role as gatekeeper seriously. He fusses around you, checking you and your crew's gear – tugging on straps, checking for rips, wiping your stained-glass goggles with a silk handkerchief. All the while he spouts an endless stream of warnings – don't enter the Shalimar, never travel in a group of three or fewer, and resist the urge to sing, no matter how fiercely your throat burns.

"And for Sequence's sake, watch the condition of your suit."

With that he pats you on the back, hands you a brochure, and sends you through the heavy iron door to the dome.

Advanced query needs investigation


Enquire after the lost sigils
You're looking for sigils of the Correspondence. Does he know of any in the Clockwork Sun?
"Oh yes!"
The Dazzled Sequencer is absolutely certain he's seen a sigil in the Sun-Shattered Dome. "You'll need to poke around to find it," he adds. "The place could do with a tidy."
Deliver the Worlebury Ministry's request for aid
Between one of the Dazzled Sequencer's breaths and the next, you find the opportunity to speak.
The Sequencer's Aid
He stammers dizzily to a halt, trailing parables about power lines and stars in ascendance, trains plumed with light.

"Oh. Oh. Hmm. There's no one I can spare. No, no. None of them." His brow furrows thoughtfully. "There's an explosive in the dome. You could take that back with you. It isn't very pretty, but it is quite loud. You can have it if you find it. And if you promise to be very, very careful. It was meant to end the universe and I've honestly forgotten why they gave it to me."

It is hard to tell if the Dazzled Sequencer means that sincerely. Nevertheless, he details the ritual that must be performed to activate the device – if you find it.

Game note: You will need to request access to the Sun-Shattered Dome and locate the bomb there.


The Sequencer has a request
"Together, we can help the less fortunate," he says. "You will be compensated for your time."
A charitable mission
"There are many poor souls out there in need of our help. Beleaguered, ignorant masses. I've never met them, but I am assured they exist." He pauses to wipe his eyes. "When we lift them from their contemptible state, perhaps they will come to appreciate the greatness of the Sequence." He sends an orderly to fetch a wooden crate. Once it's set down before him, he raps the lid proudly. "Six hundred manuals on how to correctly tie a bow-tie. Deliver these to Brabazon Workworld, and I'm sure they will be immensely benefited by their improved understanding of etiquette."
Complete your charitable mission
You successfully delivered the manuals to Brabazon, no doubt transforming six hundred lives for the better. Now they just need some bow-ties.
A new charitable assignment
The Sequencer clasps his hands together. "I can just imagine their smiles," he says. "And, oh! Their wide, grateful eyes. And their misshapen bow-ties, crying out for correction." He sends his orderlies to fetch your payment. There's a glint in his eye. "I knew I was right about you – the Sequence brought us together for a reason. We should send another package."
Complete your charitable assignment
With unrepressed delight, the Sequencer listens to your account of delivering the items to the orphanage.
A partnership is forged
A hand settles on your shoulder. "From here on out, the coffers of Azimuth are dedicated entirely to the betterment of mankind," says the Sequencer breathlessly. "Together we'll bring light to even the darkest regions of Albion. I hope you'll join me in a hymn?" Without waiting for your answer, he launches into a breathless hymn. You don't know the words, but do a creditable job of mumbling along. The Sequencer's Understanding of Charity(charity_understanding)
Another charitable assignment
A crate of food and medicine awaits delivery to some needy folk somewhere far away.
"Good luck!"
The Dazzled Sequencer explains you'll be delivering your care package to one of the grottiest slums in Worlebury-juxta-Mare. He informs you you'll need to look beyond the promenade, and hunt down the hidden side of the port, to successfully dispense his charity to the needy. "Soon enough, the people of Albion will look up at the Sun in the sky and see a giver of warmth and life and kindness. Something they can rely on. Just like the old days." He flashes you his most sincere smile and bids you a good journey.
Another 'charitable' assignment
A crate of ingots awaits delivery to your fence.
"Good luck!"
The Dazzled Sequencer explains you'll be delivering your care package to one of the grottiest slums in Worlebury-juxta-Mare.

"Soon enough, the people of Albion will look up at the Sun in the sky and see a giver of warmth and life and kindness. Something they can rely on. Just like the old days." He flashes you his most sincere smile and bids you a good journey.

He's wrong, of course. You'll be going straight to your friend in London.
Another charitable assignment
A crate of spotted cravats and New Sequence hymn-books awaits delivery to some unsuspecting folk somewhere.
"Good luck!"
The Dazzled Sequencer explains you'll be delivering your care package to one of the grottiest slums in Worlebury-juxta-Mare. It is apparently suffering an extreme deprivation of cravats. "Soon enough, the people of Albion will look up at the Sun in the sky and see a giver of warmth and life and kindness. Something they can rely on. Just like the old days." He flashes you his most sincere smile and bids you a good journey.
Complete your charitable assignment
You've delivered the items for the Sequencer, and can collect your reward.
The Sequencer is grateful
He demands you tell him everything about it – the distribution, the words of gratitude, the "smiles on the faces of the little children." He listens to it all with a beatific, far-away expression. No doubt he is already planning his next act of unprovoked kindness. When you're finished, he counts out some coins and promises that the Sequence shall arrange you favourably.
Ask the Sequencer what's wrong
He lacks his habitual joie de vivre.
The Setting of the Sun
"Oh, nothing." The Sequencer avoids looking you in the eye. "I just sometimes feel very small, in the great scheme of things." The rumbling beneath your feet is off-kilter, and you can hear distant machinery coughing like a flooded steam-engine. The Sun's light is dimmer than might be expected. With every unfortunate clank and wracking whine, the Sequencer winces as though struck.
Persuade the Sequencer to donate usefully
Maybe send them food or medicine? Or, you know, just some money?
Failed event

Advanced query needs investigation

Game note: He is unlikely to change his mind again after this.

A guileless smile
"No, no, I won't hear a word of it! Charity is my passion, and I assure you I understand it just as well as you understand your steam engine."
Successful event
An intriguing proposition
A sudden look of horror. "Ah," says the Sequencer. "You mean they don't already have those things? Oh dear. It's worse than I thought." From now on, the Sequencer promises to supply what the needy actually need.
Persuade the Sequencer to donate profitably
Something you can sell to a fence, instead of wasting on some misbegotten orphans.
Failed event

Advanced query needs investigation

Game note: He is unlikely to choose his mind again after this.

A guileless smile
"No, no, I won't hear a word of it! Charity is my passion, and I assure you I understand it just as well as you understand your steam engine."
Successful event
An intriguing proposition
A sudden light enters the Sequencer's eyes. "I see! I suppose then they can simply purchase whatever they need the most. An excellent idea, my friend – thank you." From now on, the Sequencer promises to supply gold. For the orphans, of course.
Leave Azimuth
Return to the yelling of engineers and roaring of machinery.



The Glasshouse
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284419


The Glasshouse[edit | edit source]

Some of the prisoners are shining at the seams, some have eyes of curdled glass. A fractured face turns to watch you. A few are singing in praise of the Sun, mouths bloody and throats tattered. You should perhaps be horrified, but the song wraps tender cords around your mind and numbs you. Glass crunches underfoot. When you lift your boot, you discover a cracked ear beneath.


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Speak with the prisoners
They either scream or sing. You may not get anything halfway lucid from them.
Failed event

Advanced query needs investigation

Scream and song
You sit beside a wild-bearded prisoner whose entire lower body has turned to glass, fixing him forever in a cross-legged pose. One crystalline hand, vitrified at the wrist, has been fused to his knee. He mumbles a half-coherent account of what he's seen happen to his fellow prisoners, and what he fears will happen to him. Before he can conclude his story he breaks into a song, the high notes coinciding with pulses of sudden-bright sunlight.
Successful event
A hideous story
You root out one of the newer prisoners, a woman whose mind isn't entirely fractured. Her eyes are shining gold, her fingertips pearlescent. With a calm manner and firm words, you momentarily manage to stop her singing.

With a newly-focused gaze, she tells you what she's seen. Men shattered. Men unmade.

"It hates us," she says, staring at her glass-tipped fingers.
Approach the Half-Glass Empty
Only one cell is locked, and the man within is neither singing nor screaming. The left half of his body is shimmering, translucent.
Hurry away from this place
You've left the prisoners behind, so why do you still hear their songs?


The Terpsichore Vault
Brokensteward.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284422


The Terpsichore Vault[edit | edit source]

"Varying Steward Description(steward_description)"


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Speak with the Broken Steward
She smiles. Her teeth glint oddly.
The Broken Steward
She catches you glancing at her mouth and smiles even wider. Her teeth are shards of cracked glass, protruding at odd angles from her gums.

"It's not just the teeth," she says, with a brusque air that brooks no sympathy. "D__ned Sun turned my bones as well. Terrible nuisance really. It gets in the way of work."

You notice her fixed neck, her stiff limbs, her careful movements. "It's not too bad," she says. "Good thing I like soup."
Bring three Permits to the Broken Steward
One to authorise the release of the Half-Glass Empty. One to authorise the authorisation. A third to confirm that the authorisation has been authorised.
Approved
The Steward takes the permits, shuffles through them, then drops them straight into a wastepaper bin.

"Seems to be in order," she says. "I don't know why we were tasked with keeping prisoners here anyway. As far as I'm concerned, my job is to keep the bally lights on, not mess around in politics. Come on. I need to supervise releases personally, not that it's ever come up before."

Her mouth is a grim line as she re-dons her helmet. With the occasional hiss of pain, she makes her way up to the surface.
Speak to the Similarly-Dazzled Steward
She spends her days singing and smiling.
The Similarly-Dazzled Steward
She's tiny and elderly and good-natured, and absolutely nothing like the person you once knew. She makes you tea and chats about her ailments and the glory of the Sun. "Oh, and one more thing. No more literature for the engineers. They need to focus on their sermons with the Sequencer."
Return
Back out into the poison light.



The Steward's Sanctum
Brokensteward.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284542


The Steward's Sanctum[edit | edit source]

"Down here, the Sun's innards are bared. An engine that beats like a heart. Pipes and wires criss-cross in ways that defy perspective. Cogs turn in both directions at once. You begin to develop a headache. The Steward is sitting in meditative silence, a cup of cold tea on the table beside her. She stands to greet you, slow and careful. The Age of the Steward(custodian_age)"


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
You have Hours for her
Her face lights up briefly. She grins, teeth glinting.
She takes the Hours
"Still not enough," she mutters, counting coins into your palm. "But a start." She must still have access to funding, though you can't imagine from where. The Empire can't approve of her unsanctioned meddling with their crowning achievement.
Persuade her to stop this obsession
The Sun can't be fixed. For London's sake, she should focus on keeping it functional in its twilight years.
Failed event

Advanced query needs investigation

She won't listen
There must be a way, she insists. Defiantly, ludicrously, there's always hope.
Successful event
Reluctantly, she listens
The light in her eyes goes out. Her mouth takes on a grim cast. "You're right," she says. "But I'd have appreciated being allowed that shred of hope."
Something is wrong
A smile twitches on the Steward's face. She's cut herself on her teeth; her chin is streaked with blood.
Enlightenment
"I wasted half my life down here," she says. "Last night I finally gave up. The Sun could not be fixed, I decided. Albion would not survive. But in my lowest moment, sunlight filled my mind and I knew my error.

"How could I have hoped to fix perfection? A sun cannot die. A god cannot break. There is no such thing as dusk."

You notice the densely-packed scrawl on the walls behind her. Two words, repeated thousands of times, often misspelled, eventually running into a single garbled stream.

The Similarly-Dazzled Steward smiles a little too brightly. "Care to join me in a hymn?"
Return
To the surface.


Random events[edit | edit source]

Shrieking alarms and jagged light
Explosion.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284516


Shrieking alarms and jagged light[edit | edit source]

You step from your train to find the floor rumbling. Machinery is crunching, lurching. A scream of tortured iron from below. Some engineers are rushing back and forth, others stand in desperate huddles. One beelines to you as you disembark. "Leave while you can," he shouts. "The Steward has gone mad! She's locked herself in some secret place below the Vaults! She's doing impossible things to the Sun!" Flickering. Rumbling. The Sun dims, brightens, dims again.

Trigger conditions

Clockworksun icon.png The Steward is Behaving Oddly ≥ 1
Calendar icon.png DateCalendar icon.png Shrieking Alarms Timer,

Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Offer to help
The deeper engines drive the machinery on the surface. You must access the Steward's sanctum and stop her.
Time runs short
The Sun blazes. Leaderless engineers gather around you, shouting suggestions that are lost in the noise. Then they go silent as the machinery falls still. The Sun, impossibly, brightens. Glass shatters above.



A Race against Time
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 285831


A Race against Time[edit | edit source]

"The stained-glass ceiling has broken, and light floods in. One of the engineers rips off her boot to reveal a sparkling glass foot. Another sprouts a filth-crusted beard, and claims with haunted eyes that he was trapped for a week in a frozen moment. "

Game note: Time remaining before the Sun almost certainly explodes: A Race Against Unravelling Time(custodian_timer)


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Prioritise fixing the ceiling
Send your crew to fetch a new pane of stained-glass and fix it in place. It might buy you some time.
Failed event

Game note: You lost time!

A botched job
Working together, the engineers and your crew attempt to patch over the hole. But, the light is too much for them. A harness snaps, and an engineer goes tumbling. He shatters spectacularly when he hits the ground. The rest are forced to clamber hastily down, their hazard-suits ruptured.
Successful event
A hasty fix
Working together in harnesses, the engineers and your crew manage to patch over the hole in the ceiling.
No time
You need to access the Steward's vault, before all is lost.



A Race against Unravelling Time
Clock.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284524


A Race against Unravelling Time[edit | edit source]

"The Sun flares, dims, pulsates. Beams of light lance through the air. Your hazard-suit is already flaking. You need to reach the vault, before the Steward kills you all. But time is coming apart at the seams, and you don't have much of it left. "

Game note: Time remaining before the Sun almost certainly explodes: A Race Against Unravelling Time(custodian_timer)

Trigger conditions

Clock icon.png Time is Unravelling ≥ 1 ≤ 1,


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Disable the locks
She's sealed herself beneath an iron door as thick as the hull of a ship, but you're sure the locking mechanisms can be defeated somehow.
Failed event

Game note: Time shifts. The clock-hand is somewhere different.

Time is running short
The engineers scoff and insist it can't be done. You fetch your tools from the train, kneel at the vault door, and are frustrated to find that they are correct.

They would have been better off had they been wrong, of course. An arc of light passes over your heads, and when it fades you see that one engineer's lips and nose have turned to glass. He turns blue, scrabbling frantically at his face, until a colleague chips his mouth open with a violent application of screwdriver.

Successful event
A satisfying click
The engineers scoff and insist it can't be done. It's rather satisfying to fetch your tools from the train, spend a few minutes tinkering at the foot of the door, and yank it open. Their faces are mingled horror and relief. You hurry down the steps to confront the Steward. Deep in the bowels of the Sun, you find her working feverishly at a panel of levers and blinking buttons. The floor is heaped in complex tools. She doesn't even turn her head as you enter.
Take an unpleasant alternative route
The engineers mention pipes through which toxic smoke and chemical waste are siphoned.
Failed event

Game note: Time shifts. The clock-hand is somewhere different.

Time is running short
The engineers were lying when they said your hazard-suit would protect you. You wriggle halfway into the pipe, and your skin immediately begins to blister. You tug frantically on the rope and your crew pull you back into fresh air.

Time continues to stammer. The machinery around you is rusting. A repair-crane sags and then collapses, burying one of your crew beneath a hundred tonnes of iron.

Successful event
An unedifying success
"Don't worry," the engineers assure you. "Your hazard-suit will protect you from the worst. And most of the chemicals won't kill you outright, probably, just shorten your lifespan a bit."

With a deep breath, you wriggle into the pipe and are carried away in a rush of vapour.

A short sickening while later, you are expelled somewhere deep within the Sun. After trudging in the dark for some time, you manage to find the Steward. She is working feverishly at a panel of levers and blinking buttons. The floor is heaped in complex tools. She doesn't even turn her head as you enter.
Rip the door from its hinges
Find some strong cables. Tie the door to your train's undercarriage. And fly.
Failed event

Game note: Time shifts. The clock-hand is somewhere different.

Time is running short
Your engine roars. A whistle shrieks. The cable is taut, thinning, thinning— And then, with hideous inevitability, it snaps. Your train goes flying and, naturally, crashes into a hundred-foot cog.

One of the engineers begins to scream. Her hair has turned into a thousand needle-shards of glass. Another is ageing before your eyes, jowls sagging, skin pruning. The Sun continues to flicker and spark.

Successful event
A triumph for brute force
Your engine roars. A whistle shrieks. The cable goes taut, thinning. The vault door buckles, twists, and finally rips free of its hinges. You hurry down the steps to confront the Steward. Deep within the Sun, you find her working feverishly at a panel of levers and blinking buttons. The floor is heaped in complex tools. She doesn't even turn her head as you enter.
Blow a hole in the Sun
You just happen to have some powerful explosives and an enormous drill handy. Why bother with the door?
An explosion that shakes the Sun
When the dust clears, you find the Steward staring up at you from a crater, her expression one of frank astonishment. She's surrounded by a forest of levers and blinking buttons. The floor is heaped in complex tools.
Time's up
And down. And backwards.
A flash of light
The Sun brightens; brightens until your goggles crack. A few brief impressions are scorched into your mind: the thundering collapse of machinery, the engineers sprawled, aglow from every pore, the agony-twisted faces of your crew.

And then the sun dims, duller than you've ever seen it. Dust clears. The scream of the engines falls to a rumble.

The vault-door finally swings open. Crew and engineers are scattered around you, wretched and blind and insensate. Alone, you descend.

Deep below, you find the Steward slumped motionless over a panel of levers and blinking buttons. The floor is heaped in complex tools.

"I give up," she says.


The Steward's Sanctum
Brokensteward.png
Category Story Event
Type Story
Data ID 284530


The Steward's Sanctum[edit | edit source]

You demand explanation. She removes her helmet, flashes you a tired broken-glass smile. "I'm not trying to destroy the Sun. I'm trying to fix it," she says. "For too long we've settled for just keeping it running while it deteriorates, a little more each time. Something had to change. "If I had more time, I'd be careful. But I don't. I was taking risks. Shortcuts. Putting the Sun under stress, pushing its limits, finding where it's weakest."

Trigger conditions

Clock icon.png Time is Unravelling ≥ 2 ≤ 2,


Interactions

Actions Requirements Effects Notes
Why now?
She's been maintaining the Sun for years.
The Steward's Sanctum
"When I visited the prisoners with you, and saw first-hand the torments the Sun was visiting upon them..." The Steward sighs. "I knew something had to be done. The Sun knows it's dying. It's lashes out, full of rage and spite. It's afraid. It had thought itself immortal."
Offer to bring her Hours
Time can be supplied.
The Steward's sanctum
You can help her compress months into weeks and years into months. If she needs time, she can have it.

"Thank you," she says, sagging with palpable relief. "Honestly, I don't think the Sun is fixable. But I have to try. After I've slept for about a week."

Game note: You can now bring Hours to the Broken Steward. She will require 3 Barrels at a time.


Persuade her to stop this madness
The Sun can't be fixed. For London's sake, she should focus on keeping it functional in its twilight years.
Failed event

Advanced query needs investigation

She won't listen
There must be a way, she insists. Defiantly, ludicrously, there's always hope.
Successful event
Reluctantly, she listens
The light in her eyes goes out. Her mouth takes on a grim cast. "You're right," she says. "But I'd have appreciated being allowed that shred of hope."
Refuse to help her
You're not concerned with the wellbeing of the Sun. She can do this on her own.
A diffident shrug
"I never asked for your help," she says. "The stress-testing is complete, in any case. The day-to-day operation of the Sun can go back to normal for a while." She picks a tool from the floor and returns to her work. "Why are you still here?"


Shops[edit | edit source]

The Decommissary

A cheerful signboard lists the goods on offer: Her Majesty's Finest Coal and Her Majesty's Finest Stained-Glass Sun-Proof Windows. No comestibles, though. Nothing edible grows here.

Item Buy Sell
Fuel square icon.png Fuel Sovereigns icon.png 20 Sovereigns Sovereigns icon.png 10 Sovereigns
Stainedglass square icon.png Pane of Stained Glass Sovereigns icon.png 135 Sovereigns
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