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in/story/first_steps.txt

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+There they were. The arches, towering like spires, the wood around, still serene. It was a miracle that they still stood after all this time.
+
+I couldn't believe it. I had come so far, and yet, there was still so, so much that I had yet to do.
+I stopped. I smiled.
+I took a breath in, the late-autumn air, crisp on my lungs.
+You'd think it all dead and frozen in this age, but those birds still soldiered on, unseen. At least I had that.
+Something had to be done. Something must be done.
+I grasped the small leather bag in my hand, a small clack as the contents collided. I approached the arches, their shape beckoning me forth, as if the old structure's
+walls stood standing. I felt cautious, hand to my shortsword as I approached...
+I saw it. The altar. It was a large, stone altar. Vines of ivy intruded onto it's space, snaking and coursing, like the overgrowth on rest of the arches I saw
+up-close. I readied my blade, and with the mightiest of effort, vanquished the common ivy from the top of the altar. I examined the top of the altar, 3 slots, each for
+one of the gems. I rushed to the leather bag, and fumbled, my hands shaking from both the cold, and the fear and excitement of it all. I just had to set everything
+into the right place, now. It all felt so complicated, but, in truth, it was just matching shapes.
+
+First, the gem of Oak, a small, luminescent green acorn. I set it upon the right slot, and it began to softly florese.
+Next, the gem of Ash, a sparkling shard the shape of a samara, the colours within churning and shifting.
+Finally, the gem of Thorn, a small red pip fashioned into a haw.
+It was time, I set it upon the altar, and waited. The altar moved back, revealing a staircase underneath. I produced a torch from my pack, whispered the incantation,
+and let it erupt into flames. I put one foot forward onto the step, then another, delving into that world below that I heard so much about.
+

in/story/first_steps.v.html

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+<pre>
+There they were. The arches, towering like spires, the wood around, still serene. It was a miracle that they still stood after all this time.
+
+I couldn't believe it. I had come so far, and yet, there was still so, so much that I had yet to do.
+I stopped. I smiled.
+I took a breath in, the late-autumn air, crisp on my lungs.
+You'd think it all dead and frozen in this age, but those birds still soldiered on, unseen. At least I had that.
+Something had to be done. Something must be done.
+I grasped the small leather bag in my hand, a small clack as the contents collided. I approached the arches, their shape beckoning me forth, as if the old structure's
+walls stood standing. I felt cautious, hand to my shortsword as I approached...
+I saw it. The altar. It was a large, stone altar. Vines of ivy intruded onto it's space, snaking and coursing, like the overgrowth on rest of the arches I saw
+up-close. I readied my blade, and with the mightiest of effort, vanquished the common ivy from the top of the altar. I examined the top of the altar, 3 slots, each for
+one of the gems. I rushed to the leather bag, and fumbled, my hands shaking from both the cold, and the fear and excitement of it all. I just had to set everything
+into the right place, now. It all felt so complicated, but, in truth, it was just matching shapes.
+
+First, the gem of Oak, a small, luminescent green acorn. I set it upon the right slot, and it began to softly florese.
+Next, the gem of Ash, a sparkling shard the shape of a samara, the colours within churning and shifting.
+Finally, the gem of Thorn, a small red pip fashioned into a haw.
+It was time, I set it upon the altar, and waited. The altar moved back, revealing a staircase underneath. I produced a torch from my pack, whispered the incantation,
+and let it erupt into flames. I put one foot forward onto the step, then another, delving into that world below that I heard so much about.
+
+</pre>

in/story/sycamore_gap.txt

@@ -0,0 +1,64 @@
+It was pleasant for a summer night, not too chilly, not suffocating in that way summer nights tend to be.
+Northumbria tends to be a grim old place, so this warmth was rather odd. Odd, but most certainly appreciated.
+The only thing I needed to do after that abysmal, grueling day was to settle down into bed.
+I brushed my teeth, I donned my *tunic of sound sleep*, and let the covers rustle as I wormed my way in.
+A brief pause, then, after all that time, I finally mananged to drift off...
+
+A rapping on my window, and in all it's tried and tested glory, it came from outside, with my bedroom being on the second floor.
+Bloody hell, I'm awake, with some spectre doing God-knows-what.
+
+I burrowed my way out, and trudged to the aformentioned window. A figure was beckoning me out. A vague one, too.
+Oh whatever, a night walk would do me good, I thought. I paced downstairs, donned my nightgown and slippers, remembered the front door key,
+and fumbled with that infernal contraption they named "the front door lock".
+Upon opening the door, I managed to see the figure a little more clearly:
+Horns, hooves, and what appeared to be a beard.
+Oh thank the heavens, this was most likely a dream.
+
+The figure moved away, I began my persuit, an arduous one at that. It seemed to almost glide across the uneven terrain, hopping along each little hill and hillock.
+Of course, I was yet to master this technique, and had to make do with awkwardly stumbling over tuffets, rocks, and sheep dung. I swear I heard the bastard
+chuckle over this. Why don't you try walking the ordinary way, then? See how you feel about being dragged out of the warmest, softest bed in
+the county to wherever in these barren hills you're taking me.
+I still felt I had to trudge on, I didn't have anything better to do, this was a dream after all, and the alternative was waking up in
+the middle of the night, bleary-eyed and with the abillity to drain Ullswater, only to then dream about Ms MacDonald chewing me out for my
+maths homework, *yet again*. 
+
+Crunch, crack, creak. I settled into a nice rhythm, felt nice to almost hike again. Looks like I was being lead towards Hadrian's wall.
+Figures. A greco-roman character, and a roman wall. I saw that old sycamore tree. He was standing under it. Honestly, looking back,
+it was beautiful, even picturesque, dare I say.
+The tree shrouded in shadow, the stars twinkling, it was like something you'd see some artist spend weeks on.
+I made my last few steps forward, and was greeted with "Evening, Richard". Blighter knew my name. "Well, it's a little past evening, isn't it?"
+He smiled, "Come closer, it's been a while since I had a nice chat with a mortal." I obliged, seemed like a pleasant-enough figure.
+
+"Well, why drag me all the way out here, in the middle of the night?"
+"The view, a lot of people take their surroundings for granted." He stretched. "Maybe it's also because I feel like you're good for something."
+My face furrowed, "Good for what?" "Let's not get into that right now. How about we talk about your day instead?" He plopped down beneath the tree,
+while I let out a grown, groan a la teenager, "Awful, simply awful." "I'm grinding away at the same bloody computer for hours on end, entering in rows upon
+rows of crap into a spreadsheet when I know for a fact a computer could do my occupation far better, far more efficiently, and yet our IT department refuses
+to take the crayons out of their ears in order to salvage me from that hellhole."
+"Sounds rough." I didn't know if that was smarminess, or understanding, hard to tell in the low light. "Hopefully you appreciated a bit of a night walk to clear
+your head?" "Honestly, yes." This grin, where did it come from? It clearly wasn't mine. He must have dropped it. "Have you ever thought about leaving?"
+"Heavens no, I'd starve!" I replied, giving the grin back to it's rightful owner. "Then... why exactly are you living *here?*"
+I struggled for a response, a glancing blow on my worldview.
+He continued, however, "think about it, plenty of ariable farmland, a nice easy way of getting food, and you're caged in a cubicle for a tax return
+agency slowly letting your mind rot."
+"It's my grandfather's place." Well, that came out meeker than I expected, not entirely on subject, too. "I understand where you're going with this,
+but that's a risk, and I don't like risks."
+"Well, why not?", he smiled, positively begging for an answer. I defended, "I don't like the prospect of sitting in a cardboard box in Newcastle
+for the rest of my life while politicians call my misfortune a 'lifestyle choice'." Success, or so I believed. He lunged for that point with presicion,
+"Couldn't you start by using some of the money from your occupation? Surely you can simply test the waters before committing, right?" Critical hit. I reeled.
+"Yes. I could."
+
+I realised I was arguing with a being about 2000 years more experienced with me. Great going, Rich, really showing you'd be as quick-witted as those protagonists
+in those silly stories you read. I sighed. "Alright, you have my attention, you mentioned about being 'good for something', what were you talking about?"
+"Well, we can start with the farm, first. I'll come back after you get everything sorted, and explain a little more."
+A vague-speaking mentor character, how trite. Still, I could do with something else to do when I'm not working.
+"Alright, where should I start?" I asked.
+"R. Emley's. They've got some amazing supplies. They're south, near Walsby Green"
+"I make no promises, but since my day off's tomorrow, I could pay a visit."
+He held out his hand, "See you tomorrow night, then?" "I'll shake on that," and so I did.
+He said he had nothing more to say, so, I trudged back to my house, slowly realising that I may have just made a pact with a Faerie god.
+
+Regardless, I fumbled around with the Cursed Apperatus, flung my slippers and dressing gown off, and crashed in the manner of a mighty felled redwood in the direction
+of my bed.
+
+Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

in/story/sycamore_gap.v.html

@@ -0,0 +1,66 @@
+<pre>
+It was pleasant for a summer night, not too chilly, not suffocating in that way summer nights tend to be.
+Northumbria tends to be a grim old place, so this warmth was rather odd. Odd, but most certainly appreciated.
+The only thing I needed to do after that abysmal, grueling day was to settle down into bed.
+I brushed my teeth, I donned my *tunic of sound sleep*, and let the covers rustle as I wormed my way in.
+A brief pause, then, after all that time, I finally mananged to drift off...
+
+A rapping on my window, and in all it's tried and tested glory, it came from outside, with my bedroom being on the second floor.
+Bloody hell, I'm awake, with some spectre doing God-knows-what.
+
+I burrowed my way out, and trudged to the aformentioned window. A figure was beckoning me out. A vague one, too.
+Oh whatever, a night walk would do me good, I thought. I paced downstairs, donned my nightgown and slippers, remembered the front door key,
+and fumbled with that infernal contraption they named "the front door lock".
+Upon opening the door, I managed to see the figure a little more clearly:
+Horns, hooves, and what appeared to be a beard.
+Oh thank the heavens, this was most likely a dream.
+
+The figure moved away, I began my persuit, an arduous one at that. It seemed to almost glide across the uneven terrain, hopping along each little hill and hillock.
+Of course, I was yet to master this technique, and had to make do with awkwardly stumbling over tuffets, rocks, and sheep dung. I swear I heard the bastard
+chuckle over this. Why don't you try walking the ordinary way, then? See how you feel about being dragged out of the warmest, softest bed in
+the county to wherever in these barren hills you're taking me.
+I still felt I had to trudge on, I didn't have anything better to do, this was a dream after all, and the alternative was waking up in
+the middle of the night, bleary-eyed and with the abillity to drain Ullswater, only to then dream about Ms MacDonald chewing me out for my
+maths homework, *yet again*. 
+
+Crunch, crack, creak. I settled into a nice rhythm, felt nice to almost hike again. Looks like I was being lead towards Hadrian's wall.
+Figures. A greco-roman character, and a roman wall. I saw that old sycamore tree. He was standing under it. Honestly, looking back,
+it was beautiful, even picturesque, dare I say.
+The tree shrouded in shadow, the stars twinkling, it was like something you'd see some artist spend weeks on.
+I made my last few steps forward, and was greeted with "Evening, Richard". Blighter knew my name. "Well, it's a little past evening, isn't it?"
+He smiled, "Come closer, it's been a while since I had a nice chat with a mortal." I obliged, seemed like a pleasant-enough figure.
+
+"Well, why drag me all the way out here, in the middle of the night?"
+"The view, a lot of people take their surroundings for granted." He stretched. "Maybe it's also because I feel like you're good for something."
+My face furrowed, "Good for what?" "Let's not get into that right now. How about we talk about your day instead?" He plopped down beneath the tree,
+while I let out a grown, groan a la teenager, "Awful, simply awful." "I'm grinding away at the same bloody computer for hours on end, entering in rows upon
+rows of crap into a spreadsheet when I know for a fact a computer could do my occupation far better, far more efficiently, and yet our IT department refuses
+to take the crayons out of their ears in order to salvage me from that hellhole."
+"Sounds rough." I didn't know if that was smarminess, or understanding, hard to tell in the low light. "Hopefully you appreciated a bit of a night walk to clear
+your head?" "Honestly, yes." This grin, where did it come from? It clearly wasn't mine. He must have dropped it. "Have you ever thought about leaving?"
+"Heavens no, I'd starve!" I replied, giving the grin back to it's rightful owner. "Then... why exactly are you living *here?*"
+I struggled for a response, a glancing blow on my worldview.
+He continued, however, "think about it, plenty of ariable farmland, a nice easy way of getting food, and you're caged in a cubicle for a tax return
+agency slowly letting your mind rot."
+"It's my grandfather's place." Well, that came out meeker than I expected, not entirely on subject, too. "I understand where you're going with this,
+but that's a risk, and I don't like risks."
+"Well, why not?", he smiled, positively begging for an answer. I defended, "I don't like the prospect of sitting in a cardboard box in Newcastle
+for the rest of my life while politicians call my misfortune a 'lifestyle choice'." Success, or so I believed. He lunged for that point with presicion,
+"Couldn't you start by using some of the money from your occupation? Surely you can simply test the waters before committing, right?" Critical hit. I reeled.
+"Yes. I could."
+
+I realised I was arguing with a being about 2000 years more experienced with me. Great going, Rich, really showing you'd be as quick-witted as those protagonists
+in those silly stories you read. I sighed. "Alright, you have my attention, you mentioned about being 'good for something', what were you talking about?"
+"Well, we can start with the farm, first. I'll come back after you get everything sorted, and explain a little more."
+A vague-speaking mentor character, how trite. Still, I could do with something else to do when I'm not working.
+"Alright, where should I start?" I asked.
+"R. Emley's. They've got some amazing supplies. They're south, near Walsby Green"
+"I make no promises, but since my day off's tomorrow, I could pay a visit."
+He held out his hand, "See you tomorrow night, then?" "I'll shake on that," and so I did.
+He said he had nothing more to say, so, I trudged back to my house, slowly realising that I may have just made a pact with a Faerie god.
+
+Regardless, I fumbled around with the Cursed Apperatus, flung my slippers and dressing gown off, and crashed in the manner of a mighty felled redwood in the direction
+of my bed.
+
+Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
+</pre>