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For centuries, many a ship has set sail in search of the secret land of Nocturnia. And all have failed in their mission. There have been many a report of the land where daylight exists not, a land that appears on no map and is not visible to the naked eye. Somewhere on this globe, however, Nocturnia is a reality. A land shrouded in mystery, protected by dark mists that keep visitors out…and the secrets of Nocturnia in.

And what is known of this secret land? What information has passed through the generations from the few that stumbled upon it? What you are about to hear may sound like fantasy, or the jumbled hallucinations of a merry man who hath drinketh too much ale-eth. Or the mere mumble of myth. But it was written…

Upon walking on the soils of Nocturnia, the ethereal tones of Enya will breeze past your ears. Always Enya. Well, sometimes Enigma too.

Beware you do not succumb instantly to the perils of the Forest of Indecision, a sprawling nightmare of land where the trees can't decide where to stay and take root, and subsequently up sticks and shift about the Kingdom. It is believed, however, that in recent centuries, the wandering trees have been herded and limited in expansion by the taming and use of the Silver Moles of Dimm whose earthy hills have proven to be the limiting factor on the movement of the forest.

But these are no ordinary trees, nay. They are chipstick trees that grow onion ring fruit. One cannot walk through the wood without being accompanied by swirling mists of Eddie and the eternal croak of the invisible toad. Other reports suggest that the wood has now been replaced by The Enchanted Desert. This is due to cutbacks.

Should you make it out alive of the Forest, beware of the Swamp o’Stupidia, a swamp of childish humour designed to attack trespassers with its giddy scent. It is said the girlish giggles of many a fallen fool can be heard on a windy night.

Honorable mention also to a woodcutter. Just because there has to be a humble woodcutter in the mix somewhere.

Nearby is the Field of Bacon Lilies; a light scrape on the shin causes incurable hunger and many are believed to have sought refuge by grappling with carrots from the soil. In Nocturnia, there is a carrot economy and to take without permission is theft. The indigenous people eat them to see in the dark.

Carrot thieves are punished severely in Nocturnia. It is not known for sure what becomes of them, but it is believed they are sent to the Bog of Farts, a foul smelling bog where the mud slowly bubbles and makes squeaks and trump noises, releasing poisonous gases which no mere human can survive.

There have been sightings of The River of Snooze. It gently meanders through the Forest of Indecision on a forever changing course.

And there is the Castle of Crayon, surrounded the Fields of Fluff, on a little strip of land called Lardia Gardens, alongside Bra Bank. And in the Castle of Crayon it is believed the King and Queen of Nocturnia live and rule the land. They're not like us humans; they are ectoplasm poured into a jelly mould with a dash of hallucinogenic fungi.

There are two huge knockers on the castle door and you need a knock-knock joke to get in. Many moons ago, there was an uprising from Yul Brynner-Type, who ran amok, destroying carrots, bringing with him light from the other world. He was eventually brought to Mercy from the Burning Eye which takes flight from the Castle’s Tower of Doom, a floating eye which awakes only by the slightest flicker of light from a foreign clime. Yul Brynner-Type was sentenced to death in the Bog of Farts.

And who exactly do the King and Queen rule? Many believe it is world populated by cross-dressing truck drivers. Others have reported sightings of halfwit creatures known as Buffoons. While other inhabitants have been described as mere reflections, in the Mirror of Reality, of our inspired imagination.

Little else is known of Nocturnia. Many believe the spirit of the land’s ruler left centuries ago and crept into the other world, where he planned to infiltrate the light with darkness, speaking to them about the joys of dark, calling it "The Best Time of the Day", insisting he be referred to as The Dark Lord, he speaks to the masses though they cannot see him, they can only hear him, and are encouraged to overthrow all light.

Until this murky spirit is identified, the Road to Nocturnia will remain a mystery, and light as we know it will be increasingly under threat.