Redoubtable Downtown Space Abbey - Turn 2 - We are all go here in Weatherby!

Dear Mr. Farnsworth,

I appreciate the offer of a tonic, but, as you may have heard by now, I will not be attending the Leviathan until my illness improves. I assure you that I mean no offense by saying it, but I am also uncertain as to whether a tonic that works well for a Space Moose would be equally effective on a Space Griffin. Avianoid physiology is, after all, quite different from that of an alcesinoid.

I do, however, thank you for your kind and generous offer, in the spirit it was meant, and offer congratulations on the success of your business endeavours. May I also note, with some jealousy, that sealing a letter with an impression of your coat of arms is very effective, and I regret missing the opportunity that you took in acquiring a Signet Ring. A fine choice, sir.

I wish you the best of luck with the upcoming season’s opportunities, whichever endeavours you choose to undertake.

I remain,
As always,
Your good friend,

[Illegibly ornamented signature]

Aaaakzeee St-Patrick-Hartbrooke III


Would it not be more prudent for us to adjourn to your apartment in town, so I can properly administer your medicaments without incident?


Why, you’ll be better in no time at all and back to the card tables before you know it. Wouldn’t want that wheezing to turn into a cough, would you?

You just relax, and I’ll send word to the castle to have some proper food sent over post-haste.


Damn and Blast it all. I’d wanted to hold off on an apartment until my investments were truly paying off, but that just will not do. The Levithan is comfortable enough - and I’ll still keep a change of clothes there - but I must be seen as well as talked about. I suppose it will be easier to keep track of young Rocco, I know how often he’s out his bedroom window, across the oaks and hopping on the back of a passing coach. At least if I’m in town I can intervene before the rags get involved.

The farms and fishery are doing well, although those bastards put some clauses in the final articles I am not to comfortable with. But I think my time at Benjamin Wheatly’s Mercantile Concern will show them the errors of their ways if anything comes of it. No, I think I’d best improve what I have. I need to make sure Cmdr Piker goes looking after the larger fish concerns instead of looking closer at my sandfish. Sentient Sandfish…what rubbish.

I see hats are all the rage. It is about time fashion caught up with me again. That Silk Bowler I saw at the haberdashery would look spectacular perch 'tween my stately antlers. I suppose I should pick up a few other sundries while I’m out. And it does appear as if O.T.B. is between hither, tither and yon. Hmmm…Amaranta here’s a kiss, I chose you to end this list.


Bowlers and bonnets indeed. I have created my own genetically modified haberdashery, which is both the fashion of tomorrow and provides tasty and nutritious sustenance on a regular basis. Additionally, it is also constructed of a sort of silk, and protects the ears in all types of weather. Prepare to be amaized.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the tricorn:


More grist to the milliner?


You, Sir? Did you do this last turn

Are you sir a Cornographer?



During the 18th century, hats of this general style were referred to as “cocked hats”.

Early prototypes proved too stiff for day-to-day wear.


Weatherby thrives!

Having three new publishing efforts will give scope and dimension to the upcoming Season in a manner the considered Space Times never does. I encourage all to call on our new publishers, Elizabeth Mary Farnsworth VI @Hadley, Eudaemonia Betalinda Ponsonby-Britt @Nightflyer, and Olivier Richard Pierre Jean-Robèrt Sylvain @MalevolentPixy.

Of course, Weatherby’s fortunes are tied to Charybdis at large. Having three new export/import ventures led by such capable sentients as Aaaakzeee St-Patrick-Hartbrooke III @nimelennar, Cmdr William T. Piker @fintastic, and Lt. Erythro Brummell (ret) @daneel can only improve matters.

No Society is complete without proper attention to Arts and Letters. We are truly blessed that Jean-Rhys Witherspoon Wilhelmina Winnifred Rodchaser née Westingham @MrMonkey has graciously deigned to accept an appointment at Weatherby U. I know Eighth eagerly awaits her lecture on Physical Chemistry.

Improvements in the New Territories are off to a capital start, as testified by the Quality of the leading investors. The possibilities of the Weatherby fisheries in particular are so exalted that solely focusing on the off-world commodity export business is surely not the highest and best use of such a Providential Gift.

I will be at the Leviathan on Wednesday to discuss these or other matters pertinent to the betterment of Weatherby.

At Your Service,

Mr. Julius Rothschild Karekin
Julius Formal


“Apothecarists hawk exclusive potions and unguents.”

Medicines may also be purchased from local merchants to help reduce the risk of plague.

 5£ Dr. Arbuckle's Whipweed Tonic Wine
10£ Ms. Merrimoose's Soothing Syrup
15£ Franklin Gooseberry's Remarkable Colloidal Seryl

Ms. Merrimoose’s Soothing Syrup

I bet it is just like my GrandCow’s tonic…the secret ingredient was honey. And Brandy. But GrandMama always said it was the honey that soothed my throat and helped me sleep.


Brandy tonics! That does bring back some memories. I can’t say I ever knew my grandmother, or much of my mother either really, but I do recall the floor matron at old Harbinger’s Reform School used to insist on nanobots and brandy. Nanobots for whatever child was coughing his lungs out, and brandy to help matron sleep though it.


pip! boing!

So much to-do. So much to-see. Consider this a gentle reminder to:

Cmdr Damerl Capstanturnbuckle (@pogo)
Olivier Richard Pierre Jean-Robèrt Sylvain (@MalevolentPixy)
Cmdr William T. Piker (@fintastic)
Lady Jane (@penguinchris)
Elizabeth Mary Farnsworth VI (@hadley)
Carcinogennifer Honeyvenom (@Donald_Petersen)
<pleasing hum> (@manwich)
Julius Rothschild Karekin (@David_Falkayn)
Jean-Rhys Witherspoon Wilhelmina Winnifred Rodchaser née Westingham (@MrMonkey)
Eudaemonia Betalinda Ponsonby-Britt (@Nightflyer)

that 36 hours remain for your intentions to be recorded in the Public Ledger.


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“…And, that’s right, folks, you can have all of these benefits, guaranteed by Franklin Gooseberry himself, for just the low, low price — and this is a special offer, valid only for today, and only while supplies last, so buy now, and buy as much as you can carry — of…”

St-Patrick-Hartbrooke has heard quite enough of this street-corner huckster, and pulls the window shut. He had wanted to let in a bit of fresh air to soothe his throat, but there’s nothing fresh about that line of patter. Or, if there is, it’s the fresh smell of a lagoderm stable in sore need of mucking.

The Space Griffon takes a deep breath of a perfume-scented handkerchief in order to clear the imaginary smell brought by that train of thought from his head, and by so doing dislodges something from within his throat. He spends a rather unpleasant minute coughing, and when that is done, something gooey and yellow is sitting on his handkerchief. He folds the kerchief over and passes it to his manservant, who rinses it out and tosses it into the hamper, pulls a fresh one out of the drawer and perfumes it, and then passes it back to his master, who folds it stylishly and stows it in his pocket.

This blasted cough. It’s been with him almost a full season now, and St-Patrick-Hartbrooke has spent the past few weeks trying to seek out a competent doctor. Unfortunately, it appears that a particular quirk of the colony system is that not many people really want to be a doctor: the lower class do not receive the right kind of education for it, and the upper class can make much more money by simply existing. Certainly, St-Patrick-Hartbrooke has exceeded most of his peers in funds and social standing, not through any rigorous higher education, but through courtesy, manners, etiquette, and simply his preternatural talent for timing things well.

There will, of course, be people who feel a calling to serve their fellow men (although such a thing is shamefully rare among the aristocracy), but the Taaa’keee has found none of those in his searches; all of the medical doctors he’s found have seemed to be either play-acting the role, or to be confidence artists of one sort or another.

And then there’s the complicating nature of his biology, of which the less said the better; he’d tried to convince some doctors from the homeworld to immigrate, but none were willing to take the chance of being reduced to Citizen-Pretender status. Reportedly, there were many more doctors and scientists on Britannia Prime than on the frontier colonies; perhaps they would start appearing here as the colony matured. Not that that did St-Patrick-Hartbrooke any good now.

It was almost enough to tempt a bird to buy one of that huckster’s miracle panaceas. Not quite, though: it was more likely to be spiced alcohol than any actual curative, and the likelihood that a pusher might add a contaminant that might be harmful was far too great for any prudent sentient to take.

No, he’d just trust his own strength, and trust God, and surely his health will improve shortly. After all, there is a party to attend, and a debt to settle (the price to be repaid rising with every day and every stained handkerchief).



Ensign Crusher to Commaner Piker, reporting in…


This is Commander Piker.

Go ahead, Walleye…


As requested, I’ve manufacuted six of those Nautical Echolinguistict Traps per specifications. I’m ready to deploy them in any ponds, streams, or byways that we can access.

Also, Commander, I want to talk to you about an opportunity to invest in a scientifict experiment that may greatly benefit our mission. This experiment seeks to…


Damnfin, Walleye.
Don’t go appoaching me with another line.

These waters are rife enough with traps, tramps, and scamps that we are to navigate, thusly rignt now I don’t need your help in muddying the waters with any sort of speculative investment opportunes.

I’ve already secured assurances that we have the necessary permissions to to investigate the majority of the new fisheries for sentience that are coming online with this colonization There are some holdouts…but…

With the six Nautical Echolinguistict Traps (NETs) that you’ve constructed, it will take the better part of a Weatherby Season in order to evaluate the sentience of most fisheries of usual size.

For this season, proceed with the unintimable Richard Oomingmak Ticklebot Liversnaps-Grayson to evaluate the fisheries of Reginald Oblongnoknees Ursulak Nock-nock Dipswitch, VII.

I will proceed to attempt to obtain the necessary and proper approvals to investigate the remaining fisheries.


Commander Piker,

about that experiment I mentioned:

There is a Dr. Tunas-Lee on this planet that seeks to inter-connect distributed computing devices. If we can just hook his devices properly, we could connect together each of our Nautical Echolinguistict Traps (.nets) and thusly speed our endeavor. With the traps inter-connecteded, we could likely speed our investigation by 3 or 6 seasons!



I will invest in the reseach of this “Tunas-Lee,” as it may accelerate our work here.

I will hasten to remind you, Ensign Crusher, of the need and importance of our mission here. I know that there’s a diversity of life, lust, and love, that could be pursued in the city of Weatherby, on the planet of Weatherby, within the Weatherby solar system.

As one Federation Officer to another, don’t let those opportunities detract you from your fishion. Mission. I said mission.



So much to-do. So much to-see. With a slightly greater degree of urgency, I must remind you:

Cmdr Damerl Capstanturnbuckle (@pogo)
Olivier Richard Pierre Jean-Robèrt Sylvain (@MalevolentPixy)
Lady Jane (@penguinchris)
Carcinogennifer Honeyvenom (@Donald_Petersen)
<pleasing hum> (@manwich)
Julius Rothschild Karekin (@David_Falkayn)
Jean-Rhys Witherspoon Wilhelmina Winnifred Rodchaser née Westingham (@MrMonkey)

that a mere 10 hours remain for your intentions to be recorded in the Public Ledger.