Beyond Gwimmerdale

Beyond Gwimmerdale - an introduction. I was not asked to create this endeavour. In fact, I will likely encounter opposition. Still, I could not in honest truth call myself a Raccoon if I let a chance such as has been presented me slip by. My name is Tom Badgerlock - I know, not of my choosing I assure you - and I have the distinct pleasure of being acquainted with Wilburton Fox. Yes, that Wilburton Fox. The meteoric rise into celebrity he enjoyed - and the works that carried him there - is the reason Beyond Gwimmerdale was created. I am of course referring to his now famous works: Gwelf - the Survival Guide, and Gwelf - into the Hinterlands. If you do not yet own them I can only tell you what you already know, they are well worth a purchase. Even now he tirelessly works on a third volume. What you may not know is the truth behind these books’ commission. Yes, the Foreword of both journals provide the Sparrows’ explanations. Or at least as much of it as they allowed to see print. The Sparrows of the North hold much greater sway than those we are familiar with here in the South, in part no doubt to the North’s greater prevalence of magic. The real reason was a Haunt. Oh, indeed, I expected that to get your attention. Anyone interested in Steam Consciousness here in the South does well to listen when mention of Haunts is made. Our passion for Steam Consciousness here in Genduine, our nation’s safe and secure capital, is - for the most part - blessedly free of their intrusion. Here we can enjoy the deep dive into the wonders of our dreams without fear of a Haunt’s terrifying manifestation. Not so in the Northern Territories, under the shadow - both physical and mystic - of the Boreal Mountains. Not so in Gwelf. There Steam Consciousness is performed to commune with the very things we seek to avoid. The Sparrows, in their Northern wisdom, seek out such Haunts. And in the commission of his renowned publications, they put dear Wilburton in contact with a singular Haunt of note. The Haunt to which I have alluded, Wilburton told me, went by the name of LARRY MACDOUGALL, queer to the tongue in any region known to Fox or Raccoon. What this MacDougall is, once was, or will yet be could not easily be discerned, although Wilburton felt there was something distinctly Rabbitesque in his presence. In his own realm - be that past, future or merely ‘other’ - MacDougall was, like Wilburton, something of an artist. He spoke of decades of this craft, illustrating journals of what he called ‘the Dungeons and Dragons vein’. Wilburton, always tougher and more adaptable than most would give him credit, soon found the feelings MacDougall went on to share resonating with his own artist’s soul. Larry MacDougall, it seemed, was content with his work for many years but gradually found the journals he would illustrate took on an increasingly violent and dark tone. The works of Gwimmerdale, Wilburton mused - maybe in part fed by a jaded complacency and unguided thirst for stimulation - were headed much the same way. This is when MacDougall decided to leave the ‘Dee-und-Dee’ world and cross over to illustrating works more suitable for broodlings. ‘Cross over’ he had indeed done, and through the eyes and paws of Wilburton was able to tap into Gwelf’s rich landscape for inspiration. Wilburton and MacDougall both seem to have benefited from their partnership, and from his burrow in a land he called ‘Canada’, MacDougall has spread the same Gwelf volumes across his own distant realm. So where does that leave us, worthy visitor? Here, at ‘Beyond Gwimmerdale’ - my humble Steam Rooms - of what import is any of that to you? You have an afternoon free. Safe and secure, fed and content, you seek the Steams as a diversion. No stranger to Steam Consciousness are you, indeed I know your name from my colleagues in the field. But what I offer is unique. I have been given knowledge few in Genduine possess. I have used it. What I can share comes from places most in Gwimmerdale never hear about. Would you feel the bite of the cold north in your dream? Would you take on the mantle of a venturer who would cross the Grande? Have you the stones to face a Ragtooth Troll, knee deep in the Muskeg, under the jagged shadow of the Boreals? Come this way, good sir, and I will give you a dream you will never forget.