It’s been a busy week with the big September update – “Conscript Steelcog versus THE MURDERCULT” – launched yesterday. Let’s explore a little of the new tropical biome introduced in the update by reading some excerpts from The Diary of Millard Brazenwhistle, Naturalist.

Millard Brazenwhistle came to the Colonies seeking to build a new life on the frontier. He worships at the altar of celestial order. He has pledged allegiance to the Queen. He was born in the 47th year of the Reign of the Queen. Millard Brazenwhistle is a fine specimen with a stance neither above nor below that which is appropriate. Friends: Sadly, none.

Millard Brazenwhistle is an Enthusiastic Amateur who likes dabbling in things he’s not very good at. He is a Industrious, believing that idle hands do the work of terrifying eldritch powers. He is a Pioneering Spirit who is happiest outdoors and works well with animals, dead or alive. He had an unpleasant journey to the Colonies due to a fear of airship travel.

“It’s just so bloody far to the ground, I don’t see how everyone can just pretend that we might not go tumbling to our death at any second.”

“We were dropped off by airship in the middle of the jungle. The fishperson must have been as surprised as we were! Our brave soldiers gunned it down quickly before it could alert its fellows of our position. Mrs. Clucksworth is unsettled by this unknown biome and accompanies me everywhere.”

“We were set in a natural clearing of moist ground and low grasses. The surrounding forest is a dark wall of palms and an unknown species of broadleaf, shadowed from the sun and clearly untouched by Civilized Hand. After confirming my orders with the Colonial Bureaucrat, I head off into the unknown to find what resources may be exploited by The Empire.”

“I discover a deposit of hematite – that ore of iron, the hammer of Imperial Industry – and some coconut palms of which I have read before. These may be foraged by our work-crews and, combined with exotic spices, boiled into fiery curries. The ground is otherwise strewn with mossy logs, sharp tropical grasses, and palm saplings seeking light.”

“Mrs. Clucksworth attends my every step, pausing from time to time to peck at creeping things, through a muddy depression ringed by small protrusions of limestone which suggest this landscape was an Ancient Sea in times before History.”

“I came upon a malignant-looking wetlands shrouded in fog, boiling with alien foliage. I admit, though I am a Naturalist to the bone, I am unsettled for some reason. As if watched by inhuman eyes. Was there a noise in the foliage? My eyes play tricks, suggesting fishy outlines in the murk. I look behind me, but nothing. Perhaps Mrs. Clucksworth in the bushes.”

“It is nothing.”

“I proceed deeper into the swamp, the irrational fear rising with each step. I should be carefully documenting each new species I encounter — new shrubberies, large foul-smelling flowers in various stages of apparent maturity, swamp grasses tinged with bright shades of rusty vermilion.

But in the mists, in the shadows… no, it is too much, I swear by Reason that something must be following me. A ruse: I shall appear to calmly finish this entry then abruptly flee by a carefully selected path to evade this lurking pursuer.”

“Pausing a moment in palm grove. Twilight is upon me, and I know it, foul gurgling fishpeople infest this swamp, perhaps atavistic remnants of ancient undersea civilization, fallen to a state of savage abomination. They want my flesh.

“Pursuit through the night.”

“Lit by luminescent mist, a passing Giant Beetle takes no notice of the Chase.”

“It is morning. Hungry, exhausted, ravaged by insects. Hounded by the fishpeople. I’ve taken shelter on small hillock covered with fat fungi, deposits of coal, sulphur, gold. All I sought, for The Empire! To have it end this way, in the belly of a fishman, for nothing, what madness!”

“More crashing of foliage – has it summoned its foul clan for the feast? … No, it is the Colonial Regiment! Rescue is come!”

“Thank Providence! Glory to The Empire and Her Majesty!”

“Harried day and night, I find myself overcome above all by a terrible hunger. Without thinking, I find my knife in hand, stumbling toward the fallen fishman. I cannot control myself. The soldiers stood aghast, shocked — what is it they have found but a beast? They do not speak to me as we march back to the landing site. I should be ashamed to pollute my body with the raw flesh of the fish. But it feels right and good.”

“I want to return to the swamp. I shall slip away when the soldiers drop their guard.”