The Blackstone-Baxtere Railway

[the-windhover-islands]

TatLL Engines - Lady the Sleeping Engine

TatLL's version of Lady is completely different from TatMR's. The biggest difference is that she is just a regular engine. She isn't magical. She's not the pillar of existence for living engines. She's just an engine. But she's very important to the Stone family.

The sole GWR 101 Class example, built in 1902. A unique 0-4-0T that was originally built as an oil burner but was later rebuilt in 1905 as a coal burner. Intended for passenger service but was used purely as a shunter. Withdrawn in 1911, after only 9 years in service.

Saved from scrap by Burnett’s grandfather and father, and moved to the Stone Estate’s private workshop. Restoration carried out over the course of several decades by Burnett's grandfather, father, and eventually Burnett himself.

Painted in a gorgeous red-violet and gold livery, and given the name “Lady of Sodor”. Often shortened to just Lady. Used as the Stone family’s personal engine on Sodor. Given modifications over time to improve performance.

Stolen from the estate briefly in 1987, and later found badly damaged at the Ironworks among the sidings of scrap. Burnett Stone has been trying to restore her ever since. He’s always blamed P.T. Boomer, but there was no evidence to charge him.

Her mechanical restoration is almost complete. It’s taken so long due to her being an old, one-off engine. All of her parts have to be made from scratch. Add to that, due to her modifications over the decades, many parts are no longer identical to her original blueprints. However, just one more part is all that is needed to complete the mechanical restoration. Perhaps then her fire can be stoked once more and she can be revived.

However, the last parts needed to finish her restoration seem to have gone missing.

[the-windhover-islands]

TatLL Human Characters

First off, the elephant in the room. Mr. Conductor and Junior. They don't exist. There are no minimen in Ba Sing Se.

Next up are Burnett Stone and P.T. Boomer:

Burnett was born in 1939 on Sodor, making him roughly 60 years old by the time of TatLL (1999). P.T. Boomer was born in 1936, making him 63.

Started their careers on the NWR as workers at Crovan's Gate works, and rose up the ranks. Set apart by their view on the engines. Burnett saw them for the living beings they were, while Boomer viewed them as little more than just machines that could talk. This already caused friction between them, which only got worse when Tasha entered the picture.

Tasha and Burnett ended up together, much to the displeasure of Boomer. The final straw was when Burnett ended up being made Overseer of the works.

A family heirloom would be stolen from the Stone Estate and heavily damaged. Burnett blamed Boomer, however there was no evidence pointing to him. Boomer would never face consequences.

While Burnett became Overseer of Crovan's Gate Works, Boomer would end up as the Overseer of the Ironworks. His lack of regard for the sentience of vehicles served him well in this position.

P.T. Boomer is the human villain of the story, but not the only villain. He's greedy, slimy, and vindictive. And he'll stop at nothing to make Burnett Stone's life hell.

The other two significant human characters are Lily Stone and Patch. Starting with Lily:

12 years old at the time of the story. Lives in London with her mother and father. Being sent to visit her grandpa so her parents can prepare for her soon-to-be born brother.

Has never been away from home before.

Meets Patch at Crovan’s Gate and gets to the Stone Estate with his help.

Ends up working with the Engines and Patch to thwart P.T. Boomer and Diesel 10's scheme.

Next is Patch:

12 years old at the time of the story. Parents own a farm in the Skarloey Valley. Often races the Skarloey engines with his horse. Irish heritage

Fascinated by engines. Wants to work with them when he’s older.

Frequently pesters Burnett Stone with questions.

Pretty quickly befriends Lily when she arrives in Crovan’s Gate, and helps her and the engines to stop Boomer and Diesel 10.

[the-windhover-islands]

TATMR Rewrite Idea

I've been thinking of and brainstorming ideas for a TATMR Rewrite. And I do mean rewrite. The movie and my version are far and away extremely different things. It uses most of the same characters, but with a different story. I'll be posting my ideas for the characters and story beats in this rewrite, in different posts. The first one will be on the human characters.

As for the name of the rewrite, i've been thinking of calling it "Thomas and the Lost Lady" (TatLL)

[the-windhover-islands]

Regarding Traintober 2025.

You may have noticed a drought of stories from me. This is because October has proved to be far busier than I imagined it would be. Therefore I won’t be able to do every prompt before the end of the month. Instead I will select a few to do.

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Nine - Spotlight

It was a clear day on the Windhover Islands. At Blackstone Station, a TV crew was setting up on a special carriage, modified for their usage. It was a special day as today marked the beginning of filming for a documentary about the railway. Selected to haul the train was Ozymandias, a GWR 6000 Class. Painted not in GWR Middle Chrome Green, but in the BBR’s Express Royal Purple.

He felt proud as he sat at the head of the train, waiting for the all clear to start. Soon he heard the one in charge speak. “We’re rolling in five, everyone to your places.”

That voice was Evan Palmer, an aspiring Windhover Railway Historian and documentarian. He planned for this to be the first in a series of documentaries on the history of Windhover’s railways. Soon the cameraman gave the thumbs up, showing that they were rolling, and Evan began his spiel.

“My name is Evan Palmer. I’ve lived on Windhover Island my whole life, and all my life i’ve been fascinated with the engines that are so prevalent here. The island’s railway history is a rich one, spanning all the way back to the 1840s. Today, we are at Blackstone Station, the most important station on the island. This is where our journey through this railway’s history begins.”

Evan and his cameraman moved down the platform until Ozymandias’s face was in view. “Here with us is the BBR’s number 433, former GWR number 6030, Ozymandias,” Evan said, motioning for his cameraman to raise the camera. In response, Ozymandias gave the camera a smile.

Soon enough the group moved back towards the carriage, boarding it as Evan continued his speaking. “This first part of this documentary will be focused on the modern day railway. We’ll be stopping at multiple stations and points along the mainline. Hopefully we can get some stories from some of the older engines as well.”

Before long the group was on the move, Ozymandias making his way along the mainline from station to station. The cameras got some fantastic footage of the Windhover countryside and other locomotives along the way. At the stations they managed to catch some of the branchline engines as they waited for connections, and at King’s Crown they even managed to speak with some of the narrow gauge engines.

The journey on Windhover Island’s mainline was a roughly 200 mile round trip, not even counting the other three (much smaller) islands in the chain. And on the return to Blackstone Station from Gildstone, Evan and his cameraman even managed to get footage in Ozymandias’s cab.

By the time they’d returned to where they’d started, the sun was beginning to set. Evan was highly satisfied with what they’d managed to get today. Ozymandias was satisfied as well as he was uncoupled from the carriage and guided back down the line to King’s Crown Roundhouse. Settling into his berth, he dozed, proud of a job well done.

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Eight - Gathering

Blackstone Roundhouse; Blackstone, Windhover Island, England - June 19th, 2000

The roundhouse was lively as several people set up chairs, couches, and a large projector. Tables with snacks and drinks were set up as well. Tonight was the monthly meeting of the Pacific Club, a gathering of all the pacific wheel arrangement engines on the Windhover Islands. Of course, the roundhouse, even as large as it was, was too small for all the engines. The easy solution? Use their other forms.

A quirk of the existence of living vehicles was their ability to change forms. To use a steam locomotive as an example, when an engine receives its first firing this generates something colloquially known as ‘gold dust’. This is thanks to the golden glow that precedes the appearance of the face over the smokebox door. It’s still unknown why or how this phenomenon occurs. However, this ‘gold dust’ allows them more than just life, it allows them to turn into a human form.

It takes energy to switch forms but not to maintain it. However most engines prefer to remain in their original form. That being said, the human form does have some advantages. One such advantage being the facilitation of gatherings such as this.

Standing by the main door was Robert the Devil, current leader of the Pacific Club. He was marking off a list as each of them arrived. However something was bothering him. A few of their number hadn’t shown up yet. Clearing his throat, he spoke up.

“Excuse me, does anyone know where Astrid, Cathedral, and Lord Raymond are?” Robert asked, tapping his list with his pen. “I’ve noticed they haven’t arrived yet.”

“Astrid’s at the works right now,” Earl Marischal replied. “She burst her safety valve, so she’s being looked over there.”

“I believe Cathedral ended up having to cover Astrid’s trains,” replied Hal ‘o the Wynd, looking thoughtful.

“And Lord Raymond’s covering Cross Fell’s trains since he blew some fuses,” said Blackbird from his spot on one of the couches.

“I suppose it can’t be helped. They’ll be missing out on the movies though,” Robert said, walking over to one of the tables.

“Speaking of, what movies are we watching?” Hereford asked, sitting upright from where he’d been lounging.

“Oh yes, what was the result of the vote?” Lloyd asked, likewise curious.

“It was the Star Wars trilogy. Episodes four, five, and six,” Robert answered, settling into one of the chairs with a bowl of popcorn. “Everyone ready?”

There was a chorus of affirmations and ‘yes’s in response. Robert smiled and started the first movie, ready for another successful get together.

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Seven - Value

Woodham Brothers Scrapyard; Barry, Vale of Glamorgan, Wales - May 5th, 1959

The siding was quiet late at night. Most engines had fallen asleep by now. Those awake had nothing to talk about. Among them was a 4-6-0, still in relatively good shape. He’d only been withdrawn last month. He was still awake at this time, silently looking towards the gates of the scrapyard.

His name was Royal Sovereign, but he had been built as Belvoir Castle. He was an LNER Thompson B2. Built as an LNER Class B17, rebuilt by Edward Thompson in the late 40s. He’d rendered good service to the railway, and to BR after the LNER ceased to exist. He’d even been the Royal Engine for a short time. None of this saved him though.

He’d been withdrawn and sent for scrap. Some engines around him still had some hope. Barry was the last hope for withdrawn engines, as this yard preferred to scrap rolling stock first. Already preservation groups had been roaming, looking to save any engines they could get their hands on.

Royal Sovereign didn’t hold such hope. He knew what he was, and what he was was something preservationists weren’t interested in. He was a Thompson rebuild, and Thompson’s name was something of a curse among railfans. He knew only so many engines could be saved, and he wasn’t particularly high on the list. He could only hope some of his siblings, B17 or B2, would be saved.

He must have fallen asleep at some point, as the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to daylight. That, and the sound of footsteps approaching him. It took him a second to spot the source. A group of individuals were approaching him. One was wearing a suit, two were an engine crew, and the remaining people were engineers. What he saw beyond them caught his attention even more.

A 4-6-0, identical to him save for the paint scheme. Painted in a brilliant red with gold lining. His nameplate read Culford Hall. One of his fellow B2s was here, but what for? Was he being withdrawn too?

Royal Sovereign was drawn from these thoughts when he realized the man in the suit was talking to him. He looked down at the man, blinking. “Oh, sorry sir, I was distracted,” he apologized.

“It’s quite alright. Your name is Belvoir Castle, correct? Or, I suppose Royal Sovereign at this moment,” the man said.

“Yes, that is correct,” Royal Sovereign replied, wondering why the group was here. The engineers immediately began inspecting him all over, leaving him even more confused.

“Then you’re just the engine we’ve been looking for. I’m a member of the Windhover Railway Museum’s board, and you are being preserved,” the man said, smiling.

Royal Sovereign was shocked. “P-... Preserved? I’ve been selected to be preserved..?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“You are. When we announced we would be attempting to preserve a B2, Culford Hall asked specifically to transport us,” the man answered. “We may not be able to save every engine, but we can try and save as many as we can.”

Royal Sovereign could feel tears begin to well up in his eyes. He’d been thinking this was the end for him. But, maybe, this was the beginning of a second chance.

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Six - Foreign

Blackstone Station; Blackstone, Windhover Island, England - March 15th 1906

It was a sunny afternoon on the island. Sitting at the station was an odd sight on a British railway. An American locomotive sat in a siding, looking lost in thought. His name was Garrett, and he was a PRR Class D2a. A 4-4-0, already over 30 years old but still going strong. As he sat in the siding, he drifted deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

He’d arrived on Windhover Island in 1875, bought from the Pennsylvania Railroad to join the then Windhover & Northumberland Railway. While he wasn’t the only foreign engine on the railway, he was the only American. And it was an odd feeling. This was his new home, but it didn’t really feel like one. It seemed like no matter how much time passed, he never really acclimated to the place.

Then in 1880, the W&NR merged with two other railways, the NEWR and the SEWCR. Suddenly, Garrett was no longer alone. A half-sibling of his had been on the NEWR, and had even arrived only a few months after him. His name was Riley, a PRR D5 Class. 4-4-0, same as he was. He wasn’t alone any longer. Together, life on the Windhover Islands felt a bit more comfortable.

In 1902, the Windhover Central Railway and Central Triad Railway merged to form the Windhover North Sea Railway. And suddenly yet a third member of their family was there. A PRR D4 named Darwin. The only three Americans on the railway. But that was alright. They weren’t alone anymore. They had each other.

And now, they’d been informed that another was arriving. Another member of their family. A PRR D16 named Calliope, who would be arriving any minute now. Garrett was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a whistle. Looking towards the distance, he could see her approaching.

“Ready brothers?” Garrett asked, looking to his left. There Darwin and Riley were also waiting.

“I’m ready,” Darwin replied, excited to meet his new sibling.

“Let’s give her a warm welcome,” Riley said, smiling lightly.

Soon enough, the engine arrived. She came to a stop at the platform, looking around for a few moments before her eyes landed on them. Her eyes lit up when she realized what they were. “Oh, thank goodness! I thought I'd be the only American here,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Welcome to Windhover Island. Don’t you worry, little sister. You won’t be alone here.”

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Five - Failure

Crovan’s Gate Works; Crovan’s Gate, Island of Sodor, England - September 6th, 1964

Echo groaned as she rested in the works. Workers surrounded her, noting down every bit of damage done to her in the previous hours, planning how they were going to fix this. Echo thought back to how this had happened. Just a few hours ago, the day had seemed to be going so well.

She’d been hauling a line of trucks, odd for her but sometimes something she had to do. Her 4-4-4 wheel arrangement was more suited for express, but she was still capable when it came to freight. However, the trucks had no respect for her, and had made her trip a nightmare the entire way. And then they arrived at Gordon’s Hill.

Echo still got a kick out of the story of how the hill got that name. Then again, she tended to find any misfortune involving her rival funny. She knew he thought the same when she suffered misfortune as well. Their relationship was one of banter, competition, and along the way a begrudging respect.

As she’d begun up the hill, the trucks pulled back fiercely. Echo was determined not to become stalled on the hill, not wanting to give Gordon something to be smug about. She couldn’t have known what was going to happen. As she finally crested the hill and began to come down it, she applied her brakes in preparation for the trucks pushing.

However, she was struck with a blinding pain in her boiler, the sound of screeching metal and hissing steam. She may have screamed, but at that moment she had been in so much pain that she could not remember. She was vaguely aware of her picking up speed. Her brakes were no longer responding to input, not from her or her crew.

Her crew bailed when it was clear they couldn’t stop her before the curve at the bottom of the hill. She hit the curve and careened right across the tracks and into the ground beside it. Her train had followed suit, cutting off both tracks. That was the last she knew, having passed out in the wreck.

She’d woken up in the works, still in tremendous pain. It had dulled a bit but was still ever present. It probably would be until repairs began. Since she’d awoken, she’d overheard what the workers had been saying about her damage. Crushed cab, ruptured boiler, her running gear destroyed. She was lucky to have survived. Her crew was alive too, equally lucky. Both had sustained injuries however, and would be out for a while recovering.

Echo found herself in a loop. Replaying what she remembered in her head. Trying to figure out what had happened. Why had her boiler ruptured? She must’ve run low on water. But that couldn’t be, she’d topped up before her journey and her crew was alert and responsible. She kept coming back to the same thought. ‘Was this her fault’?

In the end, she had failed. Her boiler had failed. The damage caused her brakes to fail. This forced her crew to bail, and caused her to wreck. Every thought led back to one thing. ‘Failure. Failure. Failure’. There were no other engines to comfort her either. Her sisters were all back on the BBR where they’d originated from. She had a half-sibling and some cousins on the island, but they were busy.

So she sat there, alone, as the sun began to set. Eyes cast on the rails in front of her. That is, until she heard the sound of an engine approaching. She looked up to see a familiar, proud face. Though Gordon tried to keep a neutral expression, he had tells. He was worried. Worried for his rival.

“I heard what happened. Are you alright?” Gordon asked as he came to a stop. Echo levelled an unimpressed stare at him in return. At least he seemed instantly aware that he’d worded that poorly. “I mean-”

“I could be worse,” Echo cut him off, managing a weak smile. Of course she could be worse, that wreck could’ve killed her. “Could certainly be better though.”

“I can imagine,” Gordon said, thinking back to his wreck at Kirk Ronan Station. It hadn’t been as bad as Echo’s had been, but it still hadn’t been good.

“I bet you can,” Echo replied. “I’ll be out of commission for a good while though,” she sighed, a frown replacing her smile. “If I’m even worth repairing, that is…”

“Nonsense, of course you’re worth repairing,” Gordon replied, frowning.

“I failed, Gordon. I don’t even know how it happened, but… I must have missed something. Now I'm a wreck, my crew’s in the hospital, and I've caused damage to the mainline. I’m a failure…”

“You’re no failure. You are an express engine, and a fine one at that. You’ve had a wreck, albeit a bad one. But that means you’re no different than the rest of us. We have all suffered crashes. James suffered a terrible wreck on his first day here. There was Henry’s wreck in ‘35. Thomas and Percy have been in more accidents than I care to remember. And yet, Sir Topham Hatt still trusts us. He’ll see to it that you are repaired. You’ve still got the rest of your life ahead of you,” Gordon said, beginning to reverse out of the works. “Besides. The Express wouldn’t be the same without our competition.”

Echo’s smile returned. “Thank you…”

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Four - Heritage

Gaust Works; Blackstone, Windhover Island, England - May 16th, 1984

Isabella Thompson sat in her chair, pondering. One leg crossed over the other, and a placard in her hand. A placard that read “Isabella Thompson - CME”. She could still scarcely believe she’d managed it. Even two years on since it had been announced by Matthew Pollus, the former CME, she could barely believe that she’d been made the new CME.

The office she sat in was one with a lot of history. Going back to 1840 when her great-great-great grandfather had built it. She knew what some whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear. Was she selected based only on her heritage?

The name of her ancestor was one that cast a shadow over her family. While many of her family members were engineers in their own right, none had ever gotten the recognition of that man. Sir Stephen Gaust. The man who’d started it all. Father of Windhover Island’s locomotive development and railways.

While the original furniture from the office was now in the Windhover Railway Museum, preserved as a replication of his office as it had been, the room itself was still mostly the same. Isabella glanced out the window, seeing King Baldwin III steam past the works with an express. She then turned her attention to the window overlooking the main workshop below.

Down there, several engines were being maintained or repaired. One of which was one she was familiar with. A GWR Iron Duke, formerly named Great Britain. After the passing of Stephen Gaust, he’d been renamed Sir Gaust in honor of the man. He’d been the Gaust family’s personal engine until Isabella was five.

It was then that Isabella had an idea. Standing up from her chair and placing the placard back down on her desk, she went towards her door. Opening it, she made her way across the catwalk and down the stairs to the maintenance floor. Across the maintenance floor she walked, soon finding herself before the venerable engine.

Sir Gaust cracked a smile when he saw Isabella approach. “Ah, hello Isabella. Well, I suppose it’s Ms. Thompson now, isn’t it?”

Despite her own mood, Isabella couldn’t help but smile back. “No need to be so formal. You’re practically family,” she replied. “Besides, ‘Ms. Thompson’ makes me feel old.”

Sir Gaust chuckled a bit at Isabella’s response. “So, what brings you down from the office?”

“I had a question to ask, and I figured you might be able to answer it.”

“Well, I'll take a crack at it. Ask away then.”

Isabella took a breath before going ahead with her question. “Do you think he would be proud of me? Grandpa Stephen, that is.”

“Oh? What brought about this question?” Sir Gaust asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s been about two years since I became Chief Mechanical Engineer. It feels like no one takes me especially seriously. Not like they did Mr. Pollus or Sir Baxtere. And certainly not like Grandpa Stephen. And… It feels like I'm going nowhere. So I’m wondering, would he be proud of me?”

Sir Gaust thought about it for a moment before finally deciding on an answer. “Stories about the man are… exaggerated. As stories tend to be after many iterations are told. Was he a great engineer? He was, yes. But he wasn’t this paragon some look up to him as. He was human. A good man, but a flawed one,” Sir Gaust replied.

“That doesn’t answer my que-”

“Hold your horses, I haven't finished yet,” Sir Gaust said, wanting to keep momentum. “Sir Gaust was an engineer through and through. He loved designing and tinkering with those designs. He’d be amazed by what you’ve accomplished so far.”

“You mean… he’d be..?”

“He would be so proud of you kid. Just as I am. Just as Mr. Pollus was. You’re already doing great, and you will continue to excel,” Sir Gaust replied, smiling warmly.

Isabella smiled back. “Thank you,” she said, beginning to feel a bit better now.

“You’re welcome.”

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Three - A Day Out

Blackstone Station; Blackstone, Windhover Island, England - August 4th, 1984

It was a sunny afternoon in Blackstone. A pleasant breeze blew through the air, rustling the leaves in the trees. Hardly a cloud was in the sky. At the station was a rake of vintage coaches, lovingly restored and maintained over the years by the Windhover Railway Museum. At the head of the train was Calliope, a PRR D16 Class. However, something was wrong.

“Are you freaking kidding me!?” a shriek rang through the air from the front of the train. As she’d been about to pull out of the station, there had been a loud popping sound. Her left cylinder had burst, and she’d had to be brought to a stop. She was fuming right now, scowling at the rails in front of her.

“Wish I was, old girl,” her driver said, patting her buffer. “You’re not going anywhere but to the works.”

“But who’ll pull my train?” Calliope asked, worried. She knew today was a busy day.

“Don’t you worry, we have an engine on the way now,” the Stationmaster said, walking up. He’d been on the phone since Calliope had broken down.

“Who?” Calliope asked, raising an eyebrow. Her answer was soon given when a whistle was sounded in the distance. As Calliope had been shunted off into a siding by Tobias, she saw a tender engine backing down onto the train. Painted in the old NEWR’s Oxford Blue livery with the number 19 painted on his tender, and the letters NEWR above the numbering. His brass nameplates affixed to his smokebox read ‘King Athelbald I’.

The vintage engine glided gently into the station, coming to a stop and being coupled to the train. First of the NEWR’s King Class of 4-4-0s, later rebuilt as 4-4-2s. Deemed the NEWR’s finest work, but by these days was fairly ancient. He was built in the 1870s after all, however his rebuild was in the early 1900s. He’d been retired since 1949.

Calliope was stunned, but quickly found her voice again. “Seriously? One of the geezers?” she asked, a tone of incredulity creeping into her voice.

King Athelbald I laughed at Calliope’s barb. “This geezer was hauling passengers in the mountains long before you were even a thought,” he said with confidence before cracking a wry smirk. “Besides, you’re not exactly young iron yourself.”

Calliope spluttered a bit but didn’t reply. King Athelbald I chuckled and fixed his eyes on the rails before him. “The fine folks of the WRM have kept me in prime shape. They’re dedicated like that. Now watch me, Yank. I’ll show you how fine British engineering truly is,” he declared.

Before Calliope could formulate a reply, the conductor sounded his whistle. With a laugh, King Athelbald I chuffed out of the station, the coaches gliding along behind him. Calliope was left fuming as she was pulled along by Tobias towards the works.

“You know, I think I know why they chose him to pull this,” Tobias chimed in, breaking Calliope from her thinking.

“And why’s that?” Calliope asked, frowning.

“Those coaches were from the NEWR. He knows them better than almost anyone.”

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day Two - Twilight

Blackstone Sheds, Blackstone, Windhover Island, England; November 5th, 1857

Times had been rough for the Windhover Broad Gauge Railway. For the past few years, the railway had been losing money. Despite the optimism of their director that fortunes would change, many of the engines were seeing the writing on the wall. Their railway was failing, and failing fast.

The engines longed for the halcyon years of the 1840s. It seemed that with the turn of the decade came their turn of misfortune. Nothing but badly timed business ventures, poorly planned moves, and pure bad luck it seemed like. But through it all, their director had persisted. Sir Stephen Gaust, Director and CME of the railway had kept hope that things would get better.

It was evening at the sheds when Sir Gaust’s personal engine, Tornado, arrived. And from his footplate stepped the man himself. His hair was dishevelled and he wasn’t wearing his usual coat and hat, but he looked more optimistic than he had in months!

“Good evening, engines!” called Sir Gaust, grinning as he strode up to the sheds.

“Good evening, sir,” Great Britain replied. He was a GWR Iron Duke Class, one of the premier express engines of the railway. He’d finished his final express run of the day and had been cooling in the sheds.

“I’ve big news for you all, news that will change the future of this railway,” the man said. “I am no businessman. Never have been, really. Mechanical engineering has always been my strong suit. And the time has come to admit that to myself. For those reasons, effective on the first of January next year, I will no longer be your Director.”

Before the engines could voice their shock, Sir Gaust raised his hand. “I will remain on as Locomotive Superintendent and Chief Mechanical Engineer. And the person I've found to take over as Director will be able to do things I was unable to. I’m certain that you’ve all heard of the Blackstone Family, correct?”

A murmur rose among the engines in the shed. The Blackstone family was the most powerful family in the Windhover islands.

“The new director of the railway will be Lord Maximilian Blackstone II. A far better businessman than I, and someone who loves the railway as well. Maybe as much as I do. With him as the Director, I know that this railway will flourish once more,” Sir Gaust said, smiling. “Chin up chaps. The worst will soon be over.”

[the-windhover-islands]

Traintober 2025, Day One - The Old

Windhover Railway Museum, Blackstone, Windhover Island - July 12th, 1964

Fomalhaut yawned as he was shunted out into the Windhover Railway Museum’s outside yard. The sun was high in the sky already, and the heat warmed his boiler nicely. The old engine was content to lightly doze alongside his long time companion, Black Hallows.

Fomalhaut was roused from his dozing by the sound of many footsteps approaching him. Opening his eyes, he saw a group of children approaching accompanied by a man and a woman. Their uniforms told him they must be from one of the schools nearby. The woman he recognized as one of the museum’s volunteers.

The woman, a volunteer named Heather, smiled as she saw him open his eyes. “Ah, good he’s awake,” she said to the group. “This is our oldest locomotive, the first engine to ever arrive on these islands. His official name is Autumn Star, though he prefers the name Fomalhaut. He’s a Great Western Railway North Star Class.”

Fomalhaut chuckled. “Oh please, you’re making me sound old,” he said in a joking manner.

That’s when the engine beside him, Black Hallows, decided to chime in. “Oh, you’re not old,” he began, to which Fomalhaut smiled. That smile turned to an eye roll and an annoyed but fond smile when Black Hallows finished with “you’re ancient.”

“If I'm ancient, then you’re not far behind me, old man,” Fomalhaut replied.

“Black Hallows here, Hal for short, is another one of the oldest engines on the island. These two have been around since the 1830s,” Heather continued, drawing the awe of the students. It was basically impossible to imagine being that old.

“Can you tell us a story?” one of the children, a little girl, spoke up. Quickly many of her classmates agreed while the teacher tried to keep them from getting too out of hand.

“Of course I can. I have the perfect one,” Fomalhaut said, smiling at their enthusiasm. “It was a cold January morning…”

Blackstone Station, Blackstone, Windhover Island - January 1st, 1840

Fomalhaut sat comfortably at the head of a rake of coaches. Despite the chill in the air, the young engine was in high spirits. The heat in his boiler kept him comfortable, and his driver and fireman huddled close to the firebox to keep warm. Passengers were lined up on both sides of the platform, eager to be the first to employ the services of the new Windhover Broad Gauge Railway.

From his footplate stepped his driver for the day, the Director of the WBGR, Stephen Gaust. A tall and broadly shouldered man, built well from his years working with machinery. A tophat sat on his head, accompanied by a long coat over his vest, shirt, and dress pants. Pulling close his coat and clearing his throat, the man’s voice boomed across the platform.

“Welcome one and all to what I guarantee will be one of the most exhilarating days in this island’s history. For two years my team has worked tirelessly to bring you what is before you today. The first railway on Windhover Island! A revolution of transport for this area of the island, more capable than any team of horses, and faster still!”

Fomalhaut tuned out of the speech and glanced over at his running mate, a similar looking engine to himself at first glance. They shared many design features, but inspection bore differences. Thunder, the first of Stephen’s Thunder-class express locomotives, was nervous. Fomalhaut knew the feeling. He’d once been in Thunder’s position as well.

Fomalhaut wasn’t a new engine. He’d seen service before he’d arrived on the island, given to the WBGR as a gift from the GWR’s CME, Daniel Gooch. He served in the opening days of the GWR, alongside his siblings North Star and Morning Star. Back when he was called Autumn Star. And boy had he been nervous then. Back when he and his siblings were the only truly successful engines on the GWR.

Thunder didn’t have any siblings though, not yet at least. He didn’t have someone to tell him it would be okay. So, Fomalhaut would have to do. “Oi, Thunder,” Fomalhaut said, looking to his left.

Thunder jolted a little at hearing Fomalhaut suddenly speak. He mustered as much courage as he had, hoping his voice wouldn’t shake. “Oh, hello Fomalhaut,” he replied.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Wh-What gives you that idea?” Thunder asked, trying to brush off what Fomalhaut had pointed out.

Fomalhaut chuckled lightheartedly. “Because I've been where you are before. The pressure is real, but don’t give into it. If I may, might I give you some advice?”

Thunder’s eyes darted back and forth for a bit as he decided what to do. Finally, he sighed and closed his eyes. “Hit me with your best shot,” he said, opening his eyes and meeting Fomalhaut’s.

“First, trust in your crew if you aren’t sure what to do. While we are capable of running ourselves, they are present for a reason. Secondly, stay alert. You can see farther than your crew, and react faster. If you see something, or feel worried, voice your concerns to your crew,” Fomalhaut instructed his fellow engine. “You’ve practiced this. You were built for this. Just wait and see, in time it will be as natural to you as thought.”

Thunder finally cracked a smile. “Thanks, Fomalhaut… I feel better, at least a little bit,” he said. He looked over to the platform as Sir Gaust finished his speech.

“Without further ado, I declare the Windhover Broad Gauge Railway open for business!” Sir Gaust said, taking a bow. He then stepped back on to the footplate as conductors guided passengers onboard the coaches.

Once all were aboard, the conductor blew his whistle. Stephen Gaust released the brakes and eased open the regulator. With a blast of his whistle, Fomalhaut pulled out of the station with practised ease. Thus would begin his first passenger service on the WBGR, and a very long career.

Windhover Railway Museum, Blackstone, Windhover Island - July 12th, 1964

“Never did I believe that I'd last in service until 1945. Outlasting my siblings on the mainland. Outlasting broad gauge services as a whole on the GWR. It’s bittersweet, to think that they’re gone, and I am still here. But, the fact that I’m still here allows me to pass these stories on to young ones like yourselves,” Fomalhaut finished his story, a somber smile on his face. He did miss the old days, but those days were over now.

The children had been pretty engaged by the story and broke into enthusiastic whispers when it was over. While Heather would’ve loved to let them continue on, there was a tour to get back to.

“Alright children, it’s time to continue the tour. If we’re lucky, we’ll hear stories from other engines as well,” she said with a smile. It took a few moments, but the class finally began to move on.

“Come back another time, and I'll have more stories for you,” Fomalhaut called, before closing his eyes again. It didn’t take him long to settle back into dozing, a soft smile on his face. He may miss being active sometimes, but he certainly didn’t mind retirement.

[the-windhover-islands]

An Introduction

Hello! My name is TheBlackCitadel. Please, call me TBC or Citadel. I'm the runner of this account, an account for my fictional railway set on its own set of fictional islands, the Windhover Islands.

So, where did this come from? Ever since I was a little kid, I was a massive fan of the Railway Series and the Thomas and Friends series. I had toys, dvds, vhs tapes, the books, the works. The last movie I rented from Blockbuster was Hero of the Rails when it came out in 2009. Add to that, I have had a fascination with vehicles, especially steam engines for a long time. But I hadn't considered making my own railway set in the Thomas universe, not until a few years ago.

I began reading some stories on Ao3. Stories by RedWryvernWrites, HazelofSodor, MeanScarletDeciever, and more. And they gave me a lot of inspiration. So, I began work on my own railway with its own characters and its own stories. I don't think i'll ever have the depth and background for everything that the Reverend had, but I can try.

I'll begin making posts about the islands themselves, then the railways, and then the engines themselves. I hope you all enjoy what I have to say!