Notes from Small Planets

by Nate Crowley

  Wildlife

  As in Mittelvelde, dividing the fauna here between the categories of ‘wildlife’ and ‘people’ is difficult and controversial. It’s generally safe to say that if an animal doesn’t have a human vocabulary of more than a few-dozen words and isn’t fond of complex tool use, it’s probably not a person.[26] With that in mind, here are some of the fabulous creatures you can expect to encounter in the wilds of the magical world:

  While they are a little smaller and less overtly murderous than the beasts found in some more grandiose destinations, Whimsicalia’s Dragons (Draconis Fabulosa) are undoubtedly the real deal, and can be found in a variety of environments depending on species.[27] Sadly, the population dwindled during the war, as scores of the things were unleashed over Mundane Albionus and got absolutely monstered by attack helicopters.

  The small, brightly coloured Messenger Bats (Vespertilio Nuntius) are the mainstay of the Wizarde postal system,[28] and a bat summons was traditionally the means by which prospective students were recruited from the Mundane world, thanks to their ability to flit at will between worlds (this also led to some fairly dark experimentation with miniature incendiary devices during the war).

  One of the few other animals able to travel between Mundania and Whimsicalia at its own discretion, the Gomdrinn (Detritovora Mensa) is a scavenging creature a little like an eight-foot-tall pangolin with butterfly wings, which can disguise itself as a coffee table if seen by a Mundane.

  At first glance, the Grifter’s Platypus (Ornithorhynchus Criminalis) is not that different to its Mundane counterpart, save for its perpetually grubby-looking cream-coloured fur and the faint smirk on its duck-billed face. Where it really stands out, however, is in its capacity for theft – or ‘clever buying’, as keepers of the beasts affectionately call the habit. The Platypus will hoover up coins, gems and trinkets with merry abandon, storing them in a throat pouch with seemingly infinite capacity. Luckily, these pleasantly awful creatures saw only light duty during the war, just being released in Mundania to waddle round wealthy areas and cause mild economic disruption.

  Probably around half of Whimsicalia’s magical wildlife is a Chimera of some kind – a mash-up of Mundane species, supposedly created by the Faeyrie at the beginning of the world. Sometimes the results are majestic: take the Taszrak (Tigris Aegypius), which is essentially a tiger with vulture wings and beak. Other chimera are more tragic. The Jurgle (Hippopotamus Catastrophus) – bless it – has the body of a hippo, but the head of a sparrow and the tail of a rat, while the abysmal Gurbo (Beastus Shittus) has a cheetah’s face slapped haphazardly onto the back end of a turkey with tortoise legs. It’s pathetic.

  People

  The Mundanes

  The Mundane population of Mundania needs little introduction, since they are in essence much like you and me. Their culture is wholly pedestrian, bearing a remarkable resemblance to our own society, and stumbles along largely as it did before the war, thanks to the Forgettening.[29] They have supermarkets and crap cars and a system of local government entirely preoccupied with disputes over bins. They have hopes and dreams and rich inner lives – but let’s face it, you’re not travelling to Mundania to watch a load of people sitting on sofas eating chips, are you?

  Wizardes

  Whether you love them or loathe them, the Wizardes are the stars of the show on Mundania. They are a civilisation that has grown up as a reflection of another, and which has always defined itself as something more carefree, more whimsical and more fun than the drudgery of its counterpart. Now, however, that whimsy has the air of a clown’s tears. Watching the gnomish Professor Fleepdrop deliver a lesson on alchemy in his baggy mauve pantaloons, it’s easy to be carried away by delight at the man’s buffoonish energy as he capers with hands full of reagents. But then the smell drifting from a flask will remind him of the burns ward after the Battle of Whizzbang Lane, and his face will drop, haunted by the screams of the colleagues he left behind.

  Magic-adjacent peoples

  Although it can be easy to overlook them in favour of the tribulations of Mundania’s human population, the purely magical inhabitants of this world are at least as numerous as their hominid counterparts (even taking the Mundane population into account), and were the original inhabitants of Whimsicalia.

  The Faeyrie: The original masters of magic and the oldest friends of the Wizardes, the Faeyrie are now very rarely seen outside of their deep forest glades. Although they are said to be astonishingly beautiful, few can tell the truth of the matter, since they wear heavy silk shrouds concealing their bodies. Only their strange antlers and silvery hands protrude from these garments, with long fingers constantly fiddling with cat’s cradles of magical light.

  Bogberts: These wheezing, diminutive green creatures look like self-portraits drawn by very old men with even less artistic talent than self-esteem, and are nearly ubiquitous in Wizarde society. Indeed, as long as there have been Wizardes, there have been Bogberts waiting on them hand, fist and foot.

  KNOW YOUR WIZARD(E)S

  It’s all too easy to presume that magic users are the same across all the Worlds – but don’t be fooled! Here’s a handy guide to telling apart Wizards from Mittelvelde and Wizardes from Whimsicalia.

  Mittelvelde Whimsicalia

  Pronunciation Wizz-’rds. Wih-zaahds.

  Hats Conical, floppy, battered. Sometimes fezzes, sometimes floppy velvet ones, sometimes trilbys with feathers.

  Aesthetic Posthuman vagrant. Extreme, eccentric wealth, portrayed entirely through charity-shop purchases.

  Tools of the trade Gnarled staffs, filthy clay pipes. Ornate wands, pocket-sized magical familiars.

  Klatterlings: Similar to Bogberts, but redder and fightier, and they live in holes.

  Centaurs: If the Centaurs had not remained neutral in the war, it might have gone very differently indeed. Horses with the top halves of extremely muscular humans in place of their necks,[30] they are preposterously strong, fiercely loyal and stuck in a state of constant low-level fury due to the unfortunate biomechanics of their digestive systems.

  3. PLANNING YOUR TRIP

  When to visit

  Most Mundane festivals are drab, patriotic affairs designed to drum up threadbare merriment in a population beaten down by post-war austerity. But for the people of Whimsicalia, every day is magical: since the Wizarde calendar is scheduled along vaguely pagan lines, there’s almost always an excuse for a lavish party due to the position of the moon or the stars or whatever. Even so, there’s one party whose pleasures simply can’t be overegged.

  The Grunche World Cup

  Every four years at Whooshbury Stadium, teams and fans gather from all over the world (dressed in wildly camp magical exaggerations of national dress, naturally) to really Grunche it up. There are fireworks in the sky and on the pitch, as romance and rivalry flares between one-dimensional teenage sport gods. Non-magical tourists are permitted to attend, but given the prevalence of jolly terrace chants about killing all Mundanes, it’s worth having a thick skin.

  Getting Around

  Travel links around Albionus for Mundanes comprise predictably sensible modes of transport – cars, trains and the like. Getting about in Whimsicalia, by contrast, gets far more exotic. Since the dawn of magic, Wizardes have been finding ways to accomplish dull tasks with zero effort, and transport is no exception. Portals can be opened from place to place (within magical enclaves) for a reasonable sum, while more hearty travellers might try renting flying cauldrons[31] or more esoteric enchanted vessels such as bathtubs and refuse skips. Oh, and don’t ask if you can ride a Centaur, as they will make such a fuss.[32]

  THE RULES OF GRUNCHE

  Each team has nine players – three Drangles, two Snicklers, two Billybiffs, a Tanglebob and a Bamboozler – seated in enchanted flying cauldrons.

  In play are an assortment of balls, hoops and skittles too numerous to list, as well as a crate of flying, downy-feathered frogs called Flitcroaks. Some of the balls appear to be s
entient. Sometimes there’s a flying hammer that swears at people before cracking them across the temples. But sometimes there isn’t. Either way, fear of the Winged Hammer appears to be a major element of the game.

  As far as can be discerned, most of the game’s scoring system is concerned with the Drangles manoeuvring the various implements of play into crucial areas, or through the assortment of hoops and brackets affixed to the stadium walls. The Drangles tend to accumulate between fifty and a hundred points per match this way.

  Opposing them in these endeavours are the opposing team’s Billybiffs (armed with fist-sized wooden lumps on the end of ropes) and the Tanglebob (who has a net and a crossbow).

  While all this is happening, the two pairs of Snicklers compete to capture as many Flitcroaks as they can, with each one being worth a trillion points.

  It’s not certain what the Bamboozler’s job actually is, but it seems to involve drugs. It doesn’t really matter since, like every other player besides the Snicklers, they are just part of an elaborate sideshow that takes place as four people frantically search for frogs.

  Floyd’s Tip

  If you want to travel by portal without paying the fees, there are ways – but they come with risks. Not all of the secret portals used by guerrilla fighters were closed up after the war, and many connection points remain hidden in plain sight. Seriously intrepid travellers may choose to use them, but must remember that many are set with gruesome magical traps that can swap your hands and your feet, turn your blood to porridge, or make a live squid materialise in your trachea.[33]

  Eating and Drinking

  Mundania is developing a decent fine-dining culture now rationing is coming to an end, but it will never hold a candle to the epicurean delights of Whimsicalia. Thanks to the dizzying range of ingredients native to magical Albionus, the limitless culinary techniques presented by the use of magic and the sheer flamboyant inventiveness of the Wizardes, Whimsicalia’s food is some of the finest in all the Worlds.[34] Mundania also boasts a sumptuous range of drinking options, from Salamander Shandy and blue Mungleberry Wine to Brattleperk’s Singing Ale[35] and the narcotic known as Bafflejuice. Wizarde-brewed alcohol seems to offer all the benefits of regular booze with none of the downsides. There are no hangovers, boorish behaviour or slow descent into an endless nightmare of terrible decisions and poor health. As such, it’s extremely popular with children as well as adults.

  WHIMSICALIA’S

  BEST BARS and RESTAURANTS

  The Talking Hat at Chumbleton: This famed Wizarde inn and gastropub favours dishes made with faintly spooky ingredients. Pumpkins and toadstools are perennial favourites, while tourists with an open mind will be delighted by its ‘swamp wings’ – toad legs, fried and served with hot sauce that makes your nose glow like a pink LED.

  The Flattened Toadstool: At Chumbleton’s edges, there are seedier establishments – at the Toadstool, rebellious Greeblewhoz truants share cheap bunglebean juice just tables away from the Bogberts who toil happily to serve them at the Academy, and it’s rowdy without being threatening. More dimly lit establishments play host to gatherings where tourists are not welcome, however, while Centaurs and other forest creatures loiter with tins of cheap greaselager on street corners on the outskirts of town. Don’t go there.

  Mama Owlbrows’ Teahouse: Charming cottage teahouse and youth hostel just inside the Enchanted Forest, where enterprising witch[36] Jay Owlbrows serves tea and cakes to talking animals and happily welcomes guests to their table. Of course, the cottage also has a backroom where larger, more ferocious talking animals – like Klatterlings and Skullbears – arrive quietly and depart with bundles of long, carefully wrapped hardware, but it’s best not to pay attention to that.

  Currency

  Mundane currency is bog standard – little embossed brass coins and plastic sheets with unsmiling politicians printed on them. Once in Whimsicalia, you’ll be looking to swap your money for Faeyrie groats, forged by Klatterling smiths from exotic gold alloys. Coin denominations are tricky: the system was complicated even before the war, but when the Mundane government tried to press the Wizardes to adopt the metric system as part of the ceasefire agreement, they doubled down on their currency’s complexity out of spite.

  WHAT’S IN A GROAT?

  43 grabblers make a gilly-farthing

  Three-and-a-half gilly-farthings make a large-farthing

  17 large-farthings make a short-farthing

  4 short-farthings make a whammo

  7/12 of a whammo is a groat

  DAILY SAMPLE COSTS

  BUDGET: Less than 1wh,3g,1(s)f,6(l)f,2(g)f,21g per day

  Attic bunk in a witch’s cottage – ???[37]

  Cauldron-taxi from Greeblewhoz to Chumbleton – ???

  Jumbo bag of Mr Nincomplod’s Fabulous Fizzy Bee Arses – ???

  Hour of levitation tuition – ???

  MIDRANGE: Between 1wh,3g,1(s)f,6(l)f,2(g)f,21g and 4wh,2g,2(s)f,12(l)f,1(g)f,14g per day

  Dungeon-level suite at Greeblewhoz – ???

  Wizarde’s fee for a 200 mile portal jump – ???

  Nine-course meal in a magical inn – ???

  Ticket to see the Pranslemead Grozzlers play Grunche – ???

  TOP END: More than 4wh,2g,2(s)f,12(l)f,1(g)f,14g per day

  Penthouse at the Smoking Spider country club in Crickledale – ???

  Overnight berth on the Greeblewhoz Express – ???

  Endless food and enchanted cutlery – ???

  Full magic tuition at Greeblewhoz (comes with scarf) – ???

  Don’t Forget to Pack …

  Family heirlooms

  There’s no getting around the fact that at some point – especially if you dress as well as me – you’re going to end up fifteen minutes into a conversation with a Wizarde who has mistaken you for another Wizarde. If you want to avoid the awkwardness of explaining that you’re a non-magic user, it’s worth having a small family heirloom on hand which you can pretend has a magical backstory going back generations.

  DON’T MISS: GREEBLEWHOZ MIDWINTER BANQUET

  While most of Greeblewhoz’s nightly feasts are off-limits to visitors due to the fact that they can get … quite political, the famous Midwinter Banquet is open to tourists. Running dusk till dawn on the longest night of the year, this utter gut-buster has been known to defeat the appetites of visiting giants and is the pinnacle of Wizardely hospitality. Here’s a sample menu from last year:

  6 p.m.

  An intimidating number of hors d’oeuvres: Bogbert fancies, vol-au-vents from a never-emptying tray, enchanted salmon, ‘imp bollocks’[38]

  7 p.m.

  Pre-dinner desserts: warlock creme, gremlinflower sorbet, wibblyplip pudding, sausage & mash panna cotta, the custard hose

  7.45 p.m.

  Opening speech by Headmaster Candleflash

  8.15 p.m.

  The pumpkin course: pumpkin soup, pastries, bread, sweets, stew and fritters

  9 p.m.

  The weird pies course: glitter gravy, roast beast, steak and Brattleperk’s, frog larynx, pumpkin

  10.30 p.m.

  Opening speech by Headmaster Candleflash will probably end

  11 p.m.

  The magic meat course: steamed giant spider legs, greased gryphon eggs, dryad salad, ghost venison

  11.15 p.m.

  First-term performance reviews for all students, and presentation of this year’s potential Chosen Ones, as well as house prizes

  11.59 p.m.

  Minute’s silence for the fallen

  Midnight

  Space reserved for dramatic reveal of Dark Wizarde masquerading as teacher

  1.30 a.m.

  Comedy roast of Dark Wizarde[39]

  2 a.m.

  Starters begin anew: salamander caviar, flying chicken wings, Professor McBungus’s Tap-dancing Fungus, jurgle soup

  2.30 a.m.

  Traditional midwinter roc roast with all the trimmings

  3 a.m.

  Final cour
se of cheese and fruit

  4 a.m.

  An entire bucket of sausages is slapped in front of each guest

  5.30 a.m.

  Guests retire, Bogberts begin clearing up the worst of the sick

  Indigestion remedies for horses

  Despite the limitless healthcare resources offered by the magical arts, Wizardes only really know how to ease digestive complaints in the human part of a Centaur. If you want to make some very firm friends among the half-equine community, stock up on horse drugs. Recreational ones, too.

  A knife forged from a horseshoe

  Apart from the whole affair with the lingering aftermath of a global conflict, Mundania is a relatively safe place to visit. Even so, you wouldn’t want to visit a planet swarming with guerrilla-trained magical creatures and not take a cold iron blade, would you?

  Manners and Etiquette

  Mundanes didn’t forget everything

  While the Forgettening may have erased Mundanes’ specific memories of the war, it did nothing to lift the profound trauma dealt to their subconscious minds. As such, exclamations like ‘Hey presto!’ and ‘Alakazam!’ will not only alarm people, but may prompt a PTSD response, while describing an idea as a ‘wizarde wheeze’ will get you punched in the face in broad daylight.[40]