Diary of Pip Rippon

I was out and about in The Dark Peak, out the back of Boggard lane, and I saw crops squashed -- yeh corn, flattened. Squashed by what, I wondered -- I took a photo. What has caused that -- in the off-world you'd be thinking about alien landings and all that nonsense. That's strange actually, I've never heard anyone this side of The Hinge talk about alien landings; they clearly have more to be worried about than alien crop circles. Tell you what I think it is: I think it's some sort of denizen playground. There are only six denizens of The Dark Peak, you know that if you've read my Curated Guide, and I don't suppose that is any of the original six (although thinking about it, maybe the Syncarid or the Morivarid), but there is another denizen of a third kind (first kind is the original six as guided by milting, second kind is the species developed by the firstborn, the third kind is (as far as I know) just the Dyapnid, that developed separately). So yeah, I think this is dyapnid activity. No other evidence other than my gut feeling, but what else might have caused such random, yet focused destruction of crops?

I was up on the Wadsley common, and like I do, I took the path less followed. That led to some pretty difficult going, since the path less followed turned into impenetrable undergrowth. And I don't mean it was just hard going, I mean it was truly impenetrable -- neither me nor Shad could make our way through, so we had to return back the way we'd come. I hate that, don't you? Going backwards. It got me thinking though, about Nigel. Nigel, have I ever mentioned him? I'm not sure that I have. Nigel was a guy that went backwards. No-one is really sure what happened, but rumour has it a murk wraith was involved. The story goes like this: The murk wraith asked him did he know why dark matter leaves this place? Nigel didn't, but he was a librarian, so he had ways and means to find out about such things. People said that his viewpoint evaporated like wisps of murk. He found out that The Hinge was leaking and he left to plug the hole. He was never seen again. I think that might be my fault. He went backwards through time and space. Maybe he's in your world now? Thing is, I liked Nigel, he'd helped me a lot with my research. Maybe that's the impenetrable undergrowth, that's how it made me feel anyway, like my way was blocked because of Nigel's sacrifice.

"You have been detected and you’re being monitored, please leave the area immediately" -- soon as I had passed that thing, whatever it was -- it was odd looking, square with sensors and flashing lights -- I really wish I had taken an image, but I didn't -- it'll be worth going back just to do that. It's some sort of automated exacid device, and marks a new step in law enforcement in The Dark Peak. Thing is, there was moldenke hanging about (oddly, three of them, not the usual brace), which made it feel more like the crosslands than it is -- it is like some sort of crosslander enclave, which doesn't exist anywhere else -- maybe it's because it's so close to the bunker?

Head down the Middlewood road towards Outibridge and turn right, or take the Great Northern Causeway towards Wadsley bridge and turn left, and sooner or later, you'll find yourself in one of the most ancient of woodlands -- it goes by the name of Beeley wood today, but back in the day, it was Billa's Hag, a place where this Billa -- whoever he, she or it was -- grazed animals -- a hag being woodland where the soft spikeless upper leaves of holly were used as winter fodder for wooltard and demonspawn. There isn't much evidence of holly these days, but there is no doubting the place is ancient, rumour has it that the first recorded mention of it was by the monks of Ecclesfield Priory in the 1160's, but I know that milting knew and wrote of this place long before that; I've seen in mentioned in their semagrams.

Walking through the place was very therapeutic, and I need therapy at the moment -- things in the off-world are nagging at me, driving me to distraction -- so it was good just to wander under the canopy and forget things for a while. After I had been in the wood for a bit I ended up on its extremity on Dickie Lane and walked back towards Outibridge. Up there, it feels desolate and remote, the fields stretching out, an undulating carpet to the horizon. Not many folk get up there, and as I walked along with Shad, we disturbed varied wildlife -- all sorts of strange creatures scuttling about, and odd sounds up there -- buzzing and crackling, quite unlike anything I have experienced anywhere else.

Circling back down again into the woodland, we re-visited the site of the roasting spit that I have mentioned previously, but it was no longer there. I'm sure it must have been used though, because there were remnants of a fire, and a very strong smell of fresh wood smoke hung in the air. And unlike up on Dickie Lane, the wind got up in the wood and I was bombarded with leaf fall and seed bombs as I neared the carcass of a dead Gruizer -- the poor thing looking very sorry for itself. There was a definite feeling of being watched when I returned to the wood -- to be honest it's always there, I just try and ignore it. Whether it's the beauty of Dunlockslyn, or something altogether more insipid, I struggle to make it out -- maybe it's both at the same time...

I haven’t mentioned the seven for a while. They seem to have returned to their original configuration. You must be thinking that I’m paranoid, the way I talk about being watched all the time -- in Beeley woods, by the seven -- and it's true, I am. But then that's the way of this place, I guess. That's the thing with a dystopian environment -- you're watched in Hellsborough: By the Exacid and you're monitored by the hive mind; and you never know whether a jellyhead is a Jellyhead or not. You're monitored in The Dark Peak by the organic network. You're watched everywhere, but you never know when and you never know by whom. I guess that's why being watched by the seven almost feel like a safety blanket, I almost (I said almost) feel comforted by it; it almost makes me feel safe -- safe knowing that I have "friends" looking out for me that recognise and chat with me like I am not the stranger in this strange land that I sometimes feel.

Having been steady for many months, the humidity plant went haywire again this weekend, so headed down the muddy banks of The Rivelin, where the air is cooler and there was a bit of a breeze, blowing the murk about in curls. Me and Shad were minding our own business -- not much tends to bother Shad, he is big enough and bad enough for most creatures not to mess with, so this is a first. I think the barker must have been wild, certainly the jellyhead that purported to be it's owner wasn't in control of it. This damn thing, it looked like the chaotic mutant spawn of a ripperthroat and a sly, was chewing on rocks as we approached. Yes, I know, when have you ever seen a barker chewing on rocks, and seemingly enjoying itself? Must have been strengthening up its jaw, for as we was parallel to it, the damn thing almost took my legs out in its haste to get to Shad and take a chunk out of him.

Shad actually yelped, but would have defended himself admirably (how could he not, he can't die now can he?), but I stepped up to the plate and commanded the beast back to its owner, which it did with tail between its legs. The jellyhead owner was most apologetic, and so he should be -- I advised him to put his damn mutt on a lead, or face the wrath of The Nascenti; he obliged, the organic network out there is very focused, so he'll likely get his comeuppance from the nascenti anyway.

All was calm after that, and it is a funny coincidence that the event happened at the Ripperthroat wheel, which is where I snapped this shot of a clown quacker with my psycmask: