Tôlle Meche (tOE-luh mesh-she)
Lying deep within the South Westron Ocean there is a small, isolated archipelago. It is a geological anomaly, in that the area surrounding it is (in fact) geologically stable. There is no volcanic activity; there are no quakes regularly shaking tectonic plates loose. Yet there it certainly is; an underwater mountain peak, surrounded by a perfect circle of six evenly-spaced, smaller mountain peaks. These peaks are very sharp, acquiring a rime and crust of barnacles dead and alive. Sea grasses gleefully take root here, providing, in turn, food and shelter for yet another entire species of small, bright orange fish. mahi-mahi float languidly in the shadow of long, floating seaweeds. They love floating objects, and more specifically, their shadows. For, in their shadows, the clever mahi-mahi are able to see predators lurking (cleverly) below them. This is the place, perhaps the most remote place on Tellus, that the patches of floating vegetation which have come to be known as sargasso seaweed, all originate. Right here, in this archipelago, wherein the prolific species of seaweed can build up quite densely, only for a strong southwestern storm to disperse it to the nine seas. Rare, in some cases unique, sea birds nest high upon the steep slopes, in niches and cubbies formed by thousands of generations of clusters of barnacles. Climbing crabs, and terran florae whose seeds and spores have been born upon the wind, here meet and take advantage of both the immense height of the spires to protect them from raging ocean storms, and the germination opportunities afforded by the generations of Barnacles Whom Have Come Before. Continuously pushed upward against the (really, quite acutely) steep slopes of the spires, the dead provide sustenance and shelter for those to come.
The spire in the exact middle, the tallest of the six peaks by at least a hundred feet, ends in a protruding metal tower. It comes to a sharp (seeming) point, beckoning to the sky day and night like a newly spawned astronomer. They have stood there time immemorial. And for time immemorial, every single night a light blazes forth from quite near the very top of the middle spire. Spinning around the surface of the slim tower, this light warns sailing ships off of the dangerous obstacles that arise out of seeming nowhere. First around one way, it would slow and ease to a stop, a brilliant beacon of warning. Then, it would ease into the next rotation just as easily as it had stopped, in the opposite of the original spinning direction. It speeds up until it seems like it is a single ring of blazing light. Forty seven seconds later, it begins to slow to a stop again, and the entire cycle repeats itself. It has never stopped, as far as anyone has ever heard or known. Exhaustive studies have taken place throughout history, and nary a caretaker nor a maintenance crew has ever been seen; nor has any group admitted to or taken credit for its upkeep. There has never been an entrance found, or one that has been able to be made, with or without explosives and/or powerful magics. Attempts to teleport inside of it have failed with variously disastrous results, and one incredibly lucky Chaos Magic sorcerer who wound up living out the rest of her life in a silk-shrouded haze of luxury and gorgeous men as the headmistress of her very own hare'em, in a desert oasis village. She grew very fond of being fed figs and dates by the sculpted perfection of her mates. She had also grown fond of several customs involving several of her husbands, simultaneously, and a vat of warm coconut oil. And a very large bed clothed in soft, oil (and friction) resistant fabrics.
The spire in the exact middle, the tallest of the six peaks by at least a hundred feet, ends in a protruding metal tower. It comes to a sharp (seeming) point, beckoning to the sky day and night like a newly spawned astronomer. They have stood there time immemorial. And for time immemorial, every single night a light blazes forth from quite near the very top of the middle spire. Spinning around the surface of the slim tower, this light warns sailing ships off of the dangerous obstacles that arise out of seeming nowhere. First around one way, it would slow and ease to a stop, a brilliant beacon of warning. Then, it would ease into the next rotation just as easily as it had stopped, in the opposite of the original spinning direction. It speeds up until it seems like it is a single ring of blazing light. Forty seven seconds later, it begins to slow to a stop again, and the entire cycle repeats itself. It has never stopped, as far as anyone has ever heard or known. Exhaustive studies have taken place throughout history, and nary a caretaker nor a maintenance crew has ever been seen; nor has any group admitted to or taken credit for its upkeep. There has never been an entrance found, or one that has been able to be made, with or without explosives and/or powerful magics. Attempts to teleport inside of it have failed with variously disastrous results, and one incredibly lucky Chaos Magic sorcerer who wound up living out the rest of her life in a silk-shrouded haze of luxury and gorgeous men as the headmistress of her very own hare'em, in a desert oasis village. She grew very fond of being fed figs and dates by the sculpted perfection of her mates. She had also grown fond of several customs involving several of her husbands, simultaneously, and a vat of warm coconut oil. And a very large bed clothed in soft, oil (and friction) resistant fabrics.
Purpose / Function
It seems to be a lighthouse!
Alterations
None that anyone has ever recorded.
Architecture
It is a steep, steep slope. No one has ever been able to break through the barnacle armor of the peaks.
Defenses
It has never been assaulted; but it has been studied. No one has ever seen them.
History
None of the masterful and totally awesome professors at world famous The Bardic College Campus have been able to explain the archipelago geologically, magically, mythically, superstitiously, or logically.
Tourism
Only some very few people of the curious and inquisitive Gnomes come here for tourism, and even then, they are called 'dark tourists' and do not have the official blessing of the College's Dissertation Review Board.*
*This publication does not condone or endorse dark tourism of any kind. Officially.
RUINED STRUCTURE
It is still functional
It is still functional
Founding Date
Unknown
Alternative Names
Lightspire, Pleiades Mountains
Type
Lighthouse
Parent Location
Compartment of Vehicle
Comments