Diary of Pip Rippon

Today, one week later, I returned and twice thought I had passed the hidden glade, but then I found myself right in it, passing just a few paces from the sentinel stone, much closer than last time -- I am very sure of that. Conclusive proof that the common rotates about some axis, possibly the white obelisk being the central fulcrum. The forktail and cresentwing are now in abundance.

There is only one explanation for the current heat -- the humidity plant is out of control and in a state of failure. This heat is bizarre in the extreme and not at all usual for the time of year, and from what I hear via the hive mind, this malfunction is likely to continue for some foreseeable time. I have had no communication with Van, but who can blame him for hibernating in this excessive heat -- not I. I did manage to escape the morbidity and oppressive heat briefly, and get into Beeley woods. The place is now a jungle. The venomtooths, buzzers and biters, roam freely, and even with Shad at my side, I felt the danger of the place -- not somewhere to venture in this sort of heat -- and the dead wood was more sinister than I have ever known -- no longer as dead as I have previously experienced. Afterwards, in need of a stiff drink or three, I met some character from the crosslands -- nice enough chap, goes by the name of Delf.

Someone set a tripwire! Brought me down it did, out the back of Wadsley common, not far from Boggard lane. Why would someone do that, I have no idea.

I was out and about today, having a rare free moment. The humidity plant seems to be over its crisis, but there is still plenty of activity on the undergrowth, which led me on to thinking about the flora and fauna and the confusing (if you're reading this in the off-world) terms that you may encounter in my recordings. So... On stingers, scratchers, buzzers and biters: This is a translation thing, I know, so I wanted to add an entry to my diary to try and explain it, a little at least, because even to me it's confusing. Stingers, scratchers, buzzers, biters, slicers, slingers, dicers, bitchers, breechers, belters, filtchers, grinchers, haggers, that's just a brief summary of some of the words that are used in The Dark Peak to refer to critters -- both animal a vegetable -- and they're often used interchangeably. A stinger, in terms of The Dark Peak, always refers to what you would understand to be a wasp of the yellow jacket variety, which obviously (I say obviously, it may not be that obvious), doesn't exist in The Dark Peak -- there are no wasps in The Dark Peak. The lack of existence of wasps of the yellow jacket variety is, from what I have researched, the reason for the existence of the denizens at all -- the clown, Dyapnid, The Xin, The Nascenti and the others, would not exist at all (as they don't in the off-world. See the origin story). Yet there are plenty of stingers, both of the insect variety and the plant. What you might call nettles are known as stingers, so are what you would call a bee -- which here, are also referred to as buzzers (but also see below). A scratcher is a cat in the off-world, but here, can also mean literally anything that can give you a scratch -- like a briar, thistle or even the branches of a mountain ash. Buzzers, as noted already are bees, but also flys, or any flier which makes any sound at all -- yet you can be equally be buzzed by a thorn or a gorse bush, similar with biters: Usually small insects such as what in the off-world you'd call midges or mosquitoes, here they are the same, but because of the translation can sometimes mean vegetation like bind weed that grabs as you pass, or a plant that bites in the murk, such as yellow snough weed, as in: That snough come out of murk and bit me like a bastard.

This weekend there has been something of a huge rally in Hellsborough park -- they called it the ten zero event (the start date being 79.hail-ripperthroat.10.0). The place has been infested by not only the jellyheads of Hellsborough (who wouldn't have had a choice to attend -- the hive mind would make attendance pretty much mandatory), but by those from the Nether lands and even further afield. I attended, of course -- it's research for me, and I spotted numerous instances of the Netherlander Alliance flag (officially banned by the authorities of course, and those sporting it, at risk of arrest by the Exacid henchmen of The Nascenti, should they so desire, but I saw no such activity. From an authority point of view, things were decidedly low key) -- on headwear, on shirts, on stickers; not in your face, but there and thereabouts. From what I understand, the rally -- let's be honest, a festival -- was funded by The Dark Peak District Council, and put on for the folk here or hereabouts, intended to keep them entertained, no doubt. On the first night, there were a number of spokesfolk, who seemed to entertain pretty well, judging by the the response from the sizeable crowd that had gathered. The second day, there were so many folk there that I found the whole thing quite intimidating -- being without my buddy Shad -- for some reason the authorities deemed it inappropriate for a barker to be admitted (never mind a barghest), so I didn't stop as long (although long enough), and, for the record, didn't see the same level of Netherlander Alliance activity as I has on the previous day. The third day, I abstained completely, heading out towards the Damflask, but the murk was extremely active, and I was soaked through as it followed me as I hastily hiked the banks of the Loxley and traversed up to the common. It was on that third day, the day that I didn't attend, that a bomb went off, and there was much shooting. I was up on the common when I heard the gunshats crackling weakly in the distance -- both I and Shad froze in our tracks at the sound.

Based upon seeing one in the Middle wood bar -- as described in The Chronicles -- I have been doing some research into that proud race known by the name of clown. Once a dominant force throughout the entire area that is The Dark Peak, they are now isolated in their ancestral territory, which is the area around Hathersage. As a race, a shadow of their former selves, having been pushed back into relative obscurity by The Nascenti. If you go back through various legends and myths, the clowns were always seen as cunning folk -- a word derived from the olde English word cunna, meaning "to know" -- and that makes sense to this day, since the clowns trade on information -- knowledge is their most lucrative commodity. And, here's the thing about cunning folk, they always need personal effects for their magic to work -- yes, I said magic. We're not talking maleficium, we're talking about mysticism -- becoming one with Dunlockslyn, thorough altering your state of consciousness by whatever means you have at hand, be that herbal remedies, the taking of various illicit substances, like rockcrust or other methods of entering into altered states of mind, including astrology -- but if a clown has a personal effect of yours, then, here's the thing -- it is said they can take you to a special place of their choosing without your consent -- that's what I'm told anyway. I guess that's kind of the equivalent of rohypnol, in the off-world.