Worlebury-juxta-Mare: Difference between revisions
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''"Worlebury-juxta-Mare is precisely like every other weekend destination: shabbier than advertised and bristling with ways to spend more money than intended."'' | ''"Worlebury-juxta-Mare is precisely like every other weekend destination: shabbier than advertised and bristling with ways to spend more money than intended."'' | ||
'''[[File:Worlebury-juxta-Mare.png|thumb|Art from Sunless Skies]]Worlebury-juxta-Mare''' is [[Albion]]'s premier tourist destination - a glittering little amusement park of a space-town, with rather strange and Rubbery secrets. And a cult, apparently. Sadly, the proprietors seem to have contracted a [[Lorn-Flukes|Lorn-Fluke]] for its expertise in London's more Earthly history. | '''[[File:Worlebury-juxta-Mare.png|thumb|Art from Sunless Skies]]Worlebury-juxta-Mare''' is [[Albion]]'s premier tourist destination - a glittering little amusement park of a space-town, with rather strange and Rubbery secrets. ...And a cult, apparently, because everything's a cult these days. Sadly, the proprietors seem to have contracted a [[Lorn-Flukes|Lorn-Fluke]] for its expertise in London's more Earthly history. Though it did its job with all the eagerness and competence of [[Rubbery Men|other attempts at mimicking human behavior and history]], there are anomalies that it might be best not to think about. | ||
Well, the whole thing's an illusion, which leads to things like braying donkeys that puke their innards and hatch from polyps. It's perhaps for the best that the acidic mist makes it impossible to stay in the resort for too long. | |||
[[Category:Places]] | [[Category:Places]] | ||
[[Category:The High Wilderness]] | [[Category:The High Wilderness]] | ||
[[Category:Albion]] | [[Category:Albion]] | ||
Revision as of 03:40, 9 April 2019
"Worlebury-juxta-Mare is precisely like every other weekend destination: shabbier than advertised and bristling with ways to spend more money than intended."
Worlebury-juxta-Mare is Albion's premier tourist destination - a glittering little amusement park of a space-town, with rather strange and Rubbery secrets. ...And a cult, apparently, because everything's a cult these days. Sadly, the proprietors seem to have contracted a Lorn-Fluke for its expertise in London's more Earthly history. Though it did its job with all the eagerness and competence of other attempts at mimicking human behavior and history, there are anomalies that it might be best not to think about.
Well, the whole thing's an illusion, which leads to things like braying donkeys that puke their innards and hatch from polyps. It's perhaps for the best that the acidic mist makes it impossible to stay in the resort for too long.
