Jariel: The Archon
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Our research here has been enlightening. By harnessing the power of loftite crystals, this tower has created a violent storm. The sheer power unleashed has exceeded our expectations, indicating that we will reach the final stage of the Project.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The Primal Disruptor provides an abundant source of power by transforming elemental life forms into refined loftite crystals. Their sacrifice is necessary if we are to advance the great work that we are doing here.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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By extracting pure primal air from loftite crystals, the tower below is able to generate wildly different meteorological effects. Currently the machine is generating a storm, but it could just as easily create destructive bolts of lightning, or a whirlwind of such power it would tear this facility apart. What a sight that would make...
Jariel: The Archon
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Due to its proximity to the Focus of Water, this region is a study in extremes. Rainstorms are often followed closely by snowfall, with sudden changes in temperature that only the hardiest organisms survive. My concerns for the success of the Hydris Protocols are stronger than ever.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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These large predators adapted well to the extreme changes in weather caused by the Focus of Water, thriving where other organisms have failed. The frozen remains of the giant beast that previously inhabited this cave serve as a poignant reminder that survival is about more than size or strength.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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Water is the most difficult of all of the primal elements. It is elusive and unpredictable, with an inherent instability that makes it difficult to manipulate. It should therefore come as no surprise that Yuria has been chosen for the Hydris Protocols. She could not possibly be more unstable.
Yuria: Order of the Evokers
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It is a great honor to have been chosen as the potentiate for the Hydris Protocols! Of all those who might be worthy, and it is I who the Archon has named. Upon reflection, I do find it a bit strange. Unnerving. Almost as if my colleagues have some clandestine motive, as yet undefined. Schemers! I don't trust any of them!
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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Hydris, Goddess of Water. Am I the only one amongst us who finds this troubling? Naming our creations after ancient Eldan gods? What began as our greatest work of science is slowly becoming something more insidious and dangerous. I must be more cautious. I have heard whispers about my "obstructive opinions", and frankly, I begin to fear for my life.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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These trees have had a difficult time withstanding the extreme cold that plagues this region. I find it tragic, as many of these trees are more than a thousand years old, but the rigors of the Project do not allow me time to intervene. I can only hope they will find a way to survive.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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We continue to have difficulties manipulating primal water. Our latest experiment has been especially disappointing. The resultant material was so toxic that we were forced to seal off the underground cavern in which the experiment took place. I only hope that it never finds its way to the surface.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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I have witnessed a number of disturbing behaviors in certain individuals, and a growing schism between the Orders as the Project continues. Although this was not completely unforeseen, I do have concerns about the unexpected variables and their consequences.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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These loftite crystals are fascinating. I have never before encountered a substance so purely infused with primal air - resulting in an extraordinary localized reduction in the force of gravity. It seems the beginning of our little "science project" can be counted a success.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Each generation of yeti alphas that have lived in this cave have displayed drastic physical changes brought about by prolonged exposure to the loftite crystals located nearby. Interesting. I wonder what a more focused, controlled experiment might further reveal about this phenomenon.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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The sheer geological variety on the surface of the planet is awe-inspiring, a testament to the titanic forces unleashed during its formation. The more time I spend here, the harder it is to imagine the planet's fate once we have achieved the ultimate goals of the Project.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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I have never before directly infused an organism with such high levels of primal energy, and I find the results to be staggering. The test subject has undergone a dramatic physical transformation and now displays previously unrecorded skills in evocation that make it a dangerous creature indeed. This revelation bodes well for the Project's next phase.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The Archon has commanded me to destroy the last of my little Skeech, but I cannot bring myself to do so. Is it their fault that I created them to be curious? Indeed not. Still, I must follow the Archon's order. I will release them into this cave, and surely this unforgiving planet will do the deed for me.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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The structure and complexity of these subterranean caverns far exceeds my expectations. I have wandered them for days now, and it seems there is no end to them. And I must admit, there are times I would rather stay down here than to witness those things taking place on the surface...
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I always knew that we would observe indigenous life here, but I continue to be shocked at its variety. Take these rock creatures. Fascinating! Inert chunks of stone infused with primal life, displaying a simple intelligence. This place is unique in all of the universe!
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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These little blue humanoids are perhaps the most annoying life form that I have yet encountered on this planet. On more than one occasion they have stolen and dismantled my research equipment as I have been surveying these caverns. And they are somehow familiar to me. I know I have seen them somewhere before...
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Interesting. These organisms did not arise here, but instead were created by one of the Progenitors and then subsequently scheduled for termination. I will have to report this infraction to the Archon. Such emotional tendencies will lead to the Project's failure if they cannot be contained.
Jariel: The Archon
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There are times when I gaze down upon the majesty of the planet's surface, and wonder at all that we have achieved in so little time. To the uninformed observer, this place would merely appear as an unassuming world at the edge of the galaxy, but only we know the secrets of what lies beneath its placid facade.
Jariel: The Archon
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The importance of our work requires that we have extraordinary security, and this Annihilator is an impressive facet of a nearly perfect system. We must ensure that nothing threatens the success of the Project, whether from outside the planet, or from within...
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The process of Augmentation is an important step for the larger goals of the Project. Through our advanced nanotechnology, we can now cybernetically enhance organisms, correcting the inherent weaknesses and flaws that inevitably rise through natural evolution. True perfection might finally be within our grasp.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I find the Maker's latest 'innovation' distasteful, and I strongly disagree that we cannot reach perfection through biological means alone. This augmentation is a blunt tool at best, and destroys an organisms natural insight and instinct by installing cerebral mechanisms for control. I will soon bring my objections to the Archon...
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Although powerful, this process of Augmentation seems dangerous and unpredictable. Without the proper controls, the nanites responsible for creating cybernetic enhancements could spread like a virus, putting the larger goals of the Project at risk. The Makers must proceed carefully.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The Caretaker is one of my greatest creations, a fabricated sentience whose intelligence is almost without limit. Such power allows him to monitor and control all aspects of the Project simultaneously, although I do fear that a catastrophic event could lead to a critical fracturing of his personality core.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I am very pleased with the status of the OS-1 experiment. The rapid development of their civilization is a testament to their strength and intelligence, although even I must admit that they are progressing at an alarming rate. Although they both fear and revere us, we must be careful to maintain control.
Jariel: The Archon
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The Makers have assured me that the Focus of Air can theoretically be used for the Osiric Protocols, although I find it hard to believe that the test subject will survive exposure to such tremendous levels of primal energy. What unimaginable creature will step forth when the process is complete?
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The Progenitor's objections to Augmentation have forced me to rethink my design, especially as it relates to sentient beings. Although I cannot stand their meddling, I must admit the validity of their observations. I am creating a newer prototype with much more subtle cerebral controls. The subject may not even know what has taken place...
Jariel: The Archon
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The Focus of Air represents one of the Eldan's greatest technological achievements, its scale and complexity almost impossible to comprehend. I was there to witness its sheer power at the genesis of this Project, and it is a sight I will never forget.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The OS-1's engineering skills are formidable. Every aspect of their architecture is intimidating, conveying their inherent need to conquer and subjugate. In time, they will be an unstoppable military juggernaut. I would not relish the thought of being their enemy.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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There is an aspect of our work with the OS-1 that disturbs me. For reasons of control, we have decided to approach our creations as omniscient gods wielding powers beyond comprehension. It is my fear that there are those among us who actually believe this ruse and that such reckless thoughts will lead to our destruction...
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I have long studied the evolution of these predatory birds. They are fast, fierce, and intelligent. I have witnessed their flocks engage in coordinated attacks, but I have also observed them turn on their own if an individual exhibits weakness. I find it very curious. They are not so very unlike ourselves...
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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Air has always been my favorite of all the primal powers. It is dynamic, wild, and inherently resistant to control. I visit this region often, drawn by the powerful storms that often surround the Focus of Air. It serves as a useful reminder that there are still many things beyond our control...
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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Our recent modifications of the Focus of Air for the Osiric Protocols have given me insight about other ways it might be utilized. With only a few minor adjustments, it could be transformed into a powerful weapon of unprecedented destructive capabilities. We must ensure that it never falls into the wrong hands...
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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This canyon is a perfect place to achieve the first phase of the Osiric Protocols, near enough to the Focus of Air that we can draw latent primal energy from the surrounding atmosphere. Our servants, the Pell, have been very helpful in constructing the system, continuing to prove their usefulness to the Project.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Due to their role in our experiments here on Nexus, the Pell seem to have developed attunements and sensitivities to particular primal powers - and it appears as if these traits are being passed from one generation to the next. It will be interesting to see how this situation develops...
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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We have finished the Incubator and installed it in the cave at the end of this canyon... and one of the Pell has volunteered to be our first test subject for sentient infusion. I look forward to seeing the outcome. If we are successful, achievement of the Osiric Protocols will soon be within our grasp.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The Pell seem to have taken a keen interest in the outcome of the upcoming experiment, one that sounds less like science and more like religious fervor. I fear that we have done our faithful servants irreparable harm in our experiments here. I can only hope that we achieve success...
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I am very surprised that AV-3 has thrived on Nexus, especially given the fact that we released them so quickly into the wild. Most test organisms are not so resilient. The Weavers would say that primal air gives them strength and power, but I personally feel that it is a testament to my own elegant design.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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These 'Falkrin' - as the AV-3s have come to call themselves - have developed a fervent religion based upon the worship of their 'god' Osiric. This is an interesting development given the origins of each - but I feel as if this relationship, if allowed to continue, might present significant difficulties at some point in the future.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Now this is an unexpected surprise. These early AV-3 prototypes have survived, and now call themselves the "Murgh". My records indicate they were scheduled for termination based on defects in their design, but it looks as if they've escaped into the wild and are now subservient to the Falkrin. Perhaps we have less control here than we truly believe.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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I find it interesting that the Falkrin females have been chosen as the voice of their new god, especially given how dominant the males were designed. That being said, the females are far more intelligent and inherently skilled than their male counterparts. This, of course, is not surprising at all.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Having repeatedly heard their designation, the OS-1s have now begun to call themselves the 'Osun'. They have also begun to exhibit increased brutality and aggression as a result of their training and development. Although these traits are essential to their design, I fear that these tendencies could become unmanageable in the future.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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The Osun females display impressive skills with infusion and evocation that have evolved far beyond the simple lessons that I have shared with them. One individual created a powerful elixir that allowed her to subjugate inferiors, making them into mindless slaves. Our children are learning far more from us than we expected.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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These Xenobites are one of my most elegant creations. They can survive in decelerated gestation for hundreds of years, only emerging from their eggs if their safety is threatened. My little pet Skeech seems fascinated with them, and I often find her watching over the egg clusters from afar.
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Jariel: The Archon
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Due to its proximity to the Focus of Water, this region is a study in extremes. Rainstorms are often followed closely by snowfall, with sudden changes in temperature that only the hardiest organisms survive. My concerns for the success of the Hydris Protocols are stronger than ever.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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Our initial prototype for harnessing primal water must be counted a stunning failure. Unlike similar efforts with primal air, this device was unable to derive a stable matrix from the substance, resulting in a violent reaction that tore it apart. Letting off explosive gouts of steam, the remaining pieces slid unceremoniously into the ice.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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We consider ourselves so advanced. Yet I find it curious that we name our greatest creations after ancient Eldan gods. Osiric. Hydris. Are we still such fearful little children that we must invoke their names in order to find comfort? Or do we foolishly aspire to unattainable greatness? Neither prospect is especially comforting.
Yuria: Order of the Evokers
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My excitement continues to build as we near the execution of the Hydris Protocols, although I find it a bit unsettling that I was selected to be infused by the most unpredictable and unstable of all of the elements. The Archon has encouraged me not to read anything into it. I mean, why would I possibly fail to trust such a disingenuous misguided bureaucrat?! Does he think me such a fool?
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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Again, we are forced to seal away an experiment relating to the manipulation of primal water. I had hoped that this iteration would prove more stable, but I was gravely mistaken. I can only imagine what horrors befell our Pell servants who were trapped below...
Xarophet: Order of the Makers
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I have little time. We were indeed successful in creating a stable matrix, but an unexpected power surge caused by volatile primal water resulted in a system overload. The cavern is being flooded with a toxic vapor, and hostile elemental life forms created in the reaction are now attacking my assistants. I am shutting the system down now.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Although many of our experiments in this region have met with failure, the giant humanoids below are a welcome exception. Through a careful program of subtle infusion, we were able to enhance the creature using pure primal water. Although prone to fits of violence, the resultant organism is otherwise stable and more fit for survival in this unpredictable environment.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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We have continued to make impressive strides in augmentation technology. I have recently developed a more effective version of omni-plasm, one that results in more powerful cybernetic enhancements and weapons systems. The limitations of the flesh are no longer a concern for us.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I have long observed these arachnids, and I am very impressed with their evolutionary development. Structurally, they are almost without flaw, blessed with an instinctual predatory aggression that ensures their continued survival. I have collected extensive data on the species and plan to use it in my own future designs.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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My work within the exo-lab has been progressing well, but any experiments are bound to produce unwanted results. Instead of wasting power on biological disposal, I have merely discarded the failed experimental organisms into the wild. I have no doubt that the inherent imperfections of these Dregs will result in their demise.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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In order to achieve the goals of the Project, I have created a custom humanoid template to use for future designs. This work is extremely complex, as I am precisely engineering every biological system of the template instead of manipulating those from existing organisms. Nature rarely provides the perfection that my work on the Project will require.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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The Order of the Makers has designed a planet-wide defense system to ensure the ongoing security of the Project, and this Annihilator construct is one if its most impressive manifestations. The sheer destructive power of this machine is extraordinary. Personally, I hope that a situation arises that would allow me to observe its capabilities.
Jariel: The Archon
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The creation of the Luminai by the Progenitors is a true milestone in the history of the Project. Aside from being the first successful hybrid with an extraterrestrial species, it also represents the genesis of a powerful empire that will extend beyond the confines of this world.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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I have always respected the simple elegance of arachnid design. Blessed with the pure single-mindedness of insectoid intelligence, they viciously hunt and dispatch their prey unencumbered by illusions of conscience or morality. These are the natural laws that the Project should aspire to.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Despite the Archon's approval, it is the opinion of the Watchers that there are inherent flaws in the design of the Luminai. The Progenitors have made it very clear that genetic flaws may arise from multi-generational breeding, perhaps leading to delusion, madness and other forms of mental instability.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The subterranean creatures that exist beneath these rocks will serve a suitable test case for the most recent enhancements to augmentation technology. Currently, they are little more than mindless beasts, but this technology should be able to greatly enhance their biological limitations.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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This experiment was a success, as these creatures now display greater strength, ferocity and intelligence as a result of the augmentation. I have extracted all useful data, and will now seal the caverns that contain the affected subjects. It would be most unwise to unleash this population upon the surface.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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I came here to spend a few moments alone, away from the others. But I must admit that the grisly collection of old bones here has put me in a dark mood. What stories would these creatures tell, had they not met their deaths here in the dark of these caverns? And what stories will our bones tell if we somehow meet an untimely demise?
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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I continue to be fascinated by these feral humanoid organisms, so much so that I have decided to genetically modify the aggressive tendencies and intellectual capacity of their alpha male. I assume that this trait will be passed down to future generations, making this group significantly more dangerous to anyone who might happen upon them. I know the Watchers will not approve, but the possibility of unexpected violence tends to make me reckless.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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The black volcanic stone in this region is naturally infused with high levels of primal earth and life, resulting in the formation of these elemental creatures. I have decided to install a number of primal focusers in this particular location, assuming that it will result in the creation of a larger and more destructive specimen. Perhaps I will unleash it on the Maker's new augmentation facility to the east.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Without any true natural predators, these insects are beginning to spread rapidly throughout this region, and their massive hives serve as a magnificent example of their industriousness and social coordination. Their queens are equally impressive. I have witnessed more than one creature fall victim to their venomous sting.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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These crystals contain almost pure concentrations of primal life - an interesting anomaly that resulted from the first phase of the Project. Given sufficient inherent knowledge and skill, an individual could use these crystals to transform the environment - similar to the technological process employed by our terraformers. Of course, there are currently no such individuals on Nexus beyond ourselves.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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The spread of Ohmna's little Skeech across the planet is generally infuriating, but I must admit that their latest... evolution... has me intrigued. It seems their shamans have developed the ability to evoke explosive plasmic mutations, using the ground-up bones of sacrificial victims. Now that is the kind of pet that I could appreciate!
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The Makers continued efforts to perfect this augmentation technology is disturbing. As if their tiny machines could possibly be an improvement on focused biological design. Perhaps they should visit the OS-1 city to the south. Could their cybernetic monstrosities ever construct such an impressive monument?
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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It appears that my recent modifications to the omni-plasmic nanites have not been well-received. I amplified aggression protocols, resulting in an exponential increase in hostile behavior. Personally, I feel as if this was an improvement, but the Archon was not amused when one of the augmented test subjects attacked him. Short-sighted buffoon! He has ordered the facility to be sealed indefinitely.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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As I feared, a number of subjects from the terminite experiment have escaped and established a colony directly beneath this power converter. The noxious gasses emitted from this hive are both poisonous and corrosive, rendering the unit unusable. Although trivial, this lapse in security and procedure is part of an alarming, continuing trend among the Orders.
Jariel: The Archon
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Although we have had a number of difficulties in the early phases of the Project, I cannot help but still be amazed at the progress we are making towards our ultimate goal. To think that soon we will have the power to perfect nature itself, to correct the mistakes of an inherently flawed universe.
Jariel: The Archon
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The city of Kel Voreth is perhaps the most impressive example of architecture and engineering that the OS-1s have ever produced. Since their creation, they have made rapid technological advancements that exceed even our most conservative estimates. Soon they will be an unstoppable military force.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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Without any guidance from the Orders, the OS-1s - who now have taken to calling themselves the Osun - have begun to transform local predators into powerful, armored beasts of war. Although crude and incredibly painful for the creatures, the process is undeniably effective.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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In a very short time, these Osun have developed a rich cultural mythology based on significant individuals from their short and colorful history. It is of no surprise that all of them displayed an innate viciousness and brutality which in most cases led to a violent demise. Such are the heroes that the Osun choose to venerate.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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The Osun's so-called Darkwitches have continued to perfect their arcane disciplines of subjugation, creating an elixir known as "soulrot" to enslave their thralls. After studying this mixture closely, I must admit that it reflects a dangerous level of potency that should be impossible to produce for a race so young. I might pity their victims if I wasn't so thoroughly impressed.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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These forges are astonishing, achieving levels of heat that rival even some of our own advanced technological equivalents. Because of this, Osun forgemasters are able to create weapons and armor of unexpected complexity and power. I find this very disturbing, but my concerns to this point have fallen on deaf ears.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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The size, strength and ferocity of organism X87 is awe-inspiring, and I often lure unsuspecting creatures near its lair to admire the sheer savageness of their slaughter. More than once, I have thought about subjecting a number of my short-sighted colleagues to the same fate.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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These small bipeds are little more than an annoyance. Their creation of ritual masks - which seem to indicate both mood and social structure - is of little interest to me. But perhaps there are some improvements that I can make upon their base design.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Despite the objections of his Order, Progenitor Nazrek has made a number of enhancements to these so-called Moodies. Certain individuals now display an inherent skill in evocation, allowing them to reanimate their dead. Nazrek's questionable choices will be noted.
Jariel: The Archon
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I continue to be impressed by our progress. The sheer variety of life forms that have arisen here far exceed even our most conservative projections, indicating that Nexus will indeed provide a suitable location for achieving the ultimate goals of the Project.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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These trees are fascinating. My analysis indicates that they are infused with extremely high levels of primal air resulting in their elevated status. Curious... the existence of such a life form indicates that the latter phases of the Project might indeed be attainable.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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This mineral is unlike anything I have ever encountered. Heavily infused with primal life, it appears to accelerate physiological systems, resulting in enhanced traits like increased stamina and faster reflexes. I must remember this. Such a substance presents... interesting... possibilities.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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A voracious appetite and accelerated reproductive cycle makes these insects a dangerous threat to any ecosystem. I have been tempted to breach protocol and unleash them myself, just to see the resultant chaos - but the danger that such an infestation presents outweighs even my own personal desires.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Given the danger posed by a possible surface infestation of these terminites, I have created a fail-safe mechanism to immolate the queen - violently and decisively interrupting the central hive's reproductive cycle. I sincerely hope I have reason to test the system's capability.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The evolution of the Falkrin continues to amaze me, having released the initial prototypes into the wild after data collection. They were not expected to survive, but instead they have flourished into a successful, albeit primitive, civilization. Their recent worship of Osiric introduces... complexities... into their ongoing development.
Jariel: The Archon
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This region displays a stunning array of biological diversity, a result of the accelerated evolutionary forces unleashed during the Project's first phase. The Shapers are deploying a terraformer to the east, and I am curious to see what effect the device will have on these organisms.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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This terraformer is a powerful device, allowing those of my order to dynamically change the physical properties of local terrain. At the same time, it initiates the hyper-accelerated evolution of local creatures, allowing them to better survive in the new environment. Such power is liberating... and dangerous.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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These avian beasts and their pathetic cultural charade are a growing threat to the Project's goals in this region. They should have been destroyed once they had served their purpose. I begin to tire of Ohmna's misguided concern for these inferior creations.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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As per the request of the Shapers, I have delivered the terraformer, but a subterranean scan of this region has revealed a massive reservoir of primal water directly beneath it, and I am recommending that the experiment be aborted immediately. Initiating the device in such an unstable environment would have catastrophic results.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The difficulties presented in this region have brought to light an alarming tendency to disregard scientific protocol in pursuit of the Project's larger goals. Such behavior almost led to our destruction in the past, and the Order of Watchers was established to ensure it never happened again. I must once again speak to the Archon.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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The Makers have constructed this crude device that simulates the natural process of evocation - using the primal pattern of local wildlife to manifest an organism of pure energy. Not surprisingly, this requires a great deal of power, and the pathetic machine is unable to maintain a stable projection for long. The Makers and their toys. As I have always said, it is the mind that is our greatest weapon.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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Besides being an obvious breach of protocol, Ohmna's little Skeech are by far the most obnoxious organisms I have ever before encountered. I believe I will make enhancements to the females, serving as a poignant reminder for Ohmna to avoid such infractions in the future.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I am furious! My beautiful little Skeech females - horribly twisted into these monstrous abominations! I have studied the nature of the change, and I know that Nazrek was responsible. The insolence! If he thinks I will stand for this, he is sorely mistaken.
Jariel: The Archon
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As we near the execution of the Hydris Protocols, I must admit that I have grave concerns about the selection of Yuria. Although the Evokers are generally obtuse and unpredictable, Yuria's particular instabilities are extreme. I understand she was chosen for exactly this reason, but I fear that something terrible is on the horizon.
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Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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These bipedal predators are particularly nasty. They are highly territorial, unnaturally aggressive, and display coordinated attack behaviors as they stalk their prey. Although I generally consider nature to be little more than a blind invalid playing games of chance, I must admit that these creatures are an inspired product of evolution. I must remember them for my future work.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Star-Comm Station is one my most elegantly designed facilities; a powerful communications device that allows us to securely send massive amounts of scientific data across the vastness of space without fear of signal loss or interruption. Given the importance of the information that we will soon transmit, my extensive efforts in its design and construction were undoubtedly justified.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The Elder Cube is an extraordinary piece of technology - a storage device with almost limitless capacity, coupled with advanced cryptographical algorithms that are statistically impossible to decipher. For any other endeavor, such a device would be gratuitously exorbitant, but the vast quantities of data that we have compiled in the Nexus Project pushed even the Elder Cube to its limits. It must never fall into the wrong hands.
Jariel: The Archon
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I have requested that the Makers install a manual override for the Elder Cube's security systems. Although such a crude technological solution is rarely necessary, it would be unforgivable if the information which describes our monumental achievement here on Nexus was rendered completely inaccessible due to an unforeseen catastrophic event.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I am very pleased with the progress that we have made on the Elderoot Initiative. It has long been known to us that plants of a certain age and size develop a primitive awareness of their surroundings, but we have amplified that awareness exponentially. Put simply, we are creating a sentient tree. What secrets will it reveal when at last it speaks?
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Creating sentience from primal life is an important aspect of the Elderoot Initiative. By constructing these primal infusers, I have been able to create a stable physiological matrix around an advanced power core, resulting in an organism that is created from pure energy. The success of this experiment bodes well for the larger goals of the Nexus Project.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Although the Elderoot Initiative should be counted a resounding success, there have been unforeseen side effects. A large amount of excess primal energy is radiating from some of the tree's roots, resulting in small mutations of the subterranean wildlife. Over time, this situation could become increasingly worse.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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My exploration of this cave system has revealed a hive of voracious subterranean parasites, located in close proximity to the primary root system of the Elderoot Initiative's test subject. Although they do not currently pose a threat, in time it could become a very serious issue. We must carefully monitor these pests and exterminate them, if necessary.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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I am very satisfied with the outcome of my most recent creation - a plant-animal hybrid with highly specialized environmental camouflage. The beast lures its prey by appearing as a flowering plant, and then bursts from the ground to viciously dispatch it. Although this creature has little relevance to the greater project here on Nexus, I often come here to admire the elegant brutality of its design.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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My initial experiments with nano-technological enhancement have been extremely promising. I see almost unlimited potential in this technology, if indeed I am able to harness its power. I must work harder. This creature is an early, imperfect manifestation of the process.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The Pell have begun to display...irregularities, no doubt caused by prolonged exposure during the Project's first phase. Certain individuals are now molecularly attuned to specific primal energies, resulting in behavioral aberrations not unlike religious fervor. Although they are still very capable servants, I fear that they have undergone an irrevocable transformation.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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The geological characteristics of this region are very interesting. Subterranean scans reveal numerous reservoirs of primal water just beneath the surface, often resulting in explosive geysers that burst forth from the ground. Such phenomena are to be expected given the inherent instability of the substance - but the Pell, sadly, have begun to view them as something more divine.
Jariel: The Archon
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I have read the reports concerning the Pell's recent behavioral transformation - but I had not realized the true impact of the changes until I saw this building that they recently constructed without our knowledge. I can only describe it as some kind of religious temple, devoted to some undefined aquatic deity that a number of them have begun to worship. I have been assured that this does not represent a threat to the success of the Project, but I personally find their strange devolution a point of concern.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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I believe that I have finally developed a stable process for biomechanical improvement. I call it augmentation. Using nanotechnology, I have been able to re-engineer organisms at the molecular level, eradicating their inherent weaknesses through cybernetic enhancements. The Archon was extremely impressed with my early simulations, but has requested more tangible results. I begin work on biological subjects immediately.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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I have studied Vorion's little pet, and even I must admit that his augmentation process is impressive. By merely injecting an organism with nanite-infused omni-plasm, he has been able to cybernetically enhance their inherent biological traits. As a result, this spider is faster, more aggressive, and deadlier. But this process takes time, and time is not always a luxury we enjoy. I am currently developing a more rapid process for biomechanical re-engineering...
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The Watchers are extremely concerned about the so-called "recombination" experiments of Maker Zarkonis. Not only do they display a blatant disregard for scientific principle and protocol, but I personally feel as if they are motivated by a growing sense of inferiority that Zarkonis feels in relation to Maker Vorion and his recent successes. I must speak with the Archon before things progress too far.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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I am very close to perfecting my recombination technology! Instead of utilizing nanites to build biomechanical constructs, my Recombinator removes the target limbs and organs, and then directly replaces them with mechanical constructs. Granted, the process is violent, traumatic, and bloody - and at this stage the resultant creatures are physiologically unstable - but I still feel as if this is a marked improvement over Vorion's augmentation technology. And the accusation of Ionis that this is somehow a personal obsession driven by my sense of inadequacy? Preposterous!
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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The Archon continues to disappoint me with his shortsightedness. My Recombination Chamber is a vastly superior alternative to omni-plasmic augmentation. True, most subjects do not survive the process, and those that do are often physically and psychologically scarred. But these are mere details! I regret that I will not be able to continue this innovative research.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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This is a perfect location for my upcoming experiment. By tapping the massive reservoir of primal water beneath this lake, I hope to weave a being of pure primal energy. If successful, this will represent a landmark in the history of my Order and a giant step towards achieving the goals of the Project itself. I suppose I must mention the technological contribution of the Makers, although I consider it trivial at best.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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I have completed my survey of this region, and I am as impressed with its geologic diversity as I have been with the rest of this planet. It is difficult to imagine a more suitable location to embark on the Project, although I continue to harbor concerns about the consequences if indeed we are successful. Not surprisingly, my opinions have not been popular among my colleagues.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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This region is truly fascinating. The intensity of its natural primal matrices is beyond anything that I've ever experienced, allowing me to manifest evocations of unexpected power. These intensities also have a tangible impact on the life forms that exist in this forest, often resulting in individuals with drastically different physiologies and biological traits. This particular location seems especially prone to the phenomenon.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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Aviel has asked me to construct a number of power converters for what she calls her "secret little project" inside the nearby caves. I generally try to avoid the kind of trouble that comes with the Weavers, and especially Aviel, but cooperation and collaboration among the Orders will be vital if we are to achieve our great work on Nexus. I only hope she does not betray my trust.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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The inherent instability of primal water opens up a number of interesting possibilities. By weaving malignant biological material with the substance, I have been able to create an extremely virulent gaseous agent - one that even in the smallest amount has proven fatal to test subjects. I must be cautious. The opportunity for mayhem among my colleagues often encourages me to ignore protocol.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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These trees display a measurable proto-sentience, almost an awareness of the energetic fields of primal life inherent to the forest. If another plant or organism in this region feels pain, these trees do also. The existence of such advanced sensitivities in plant life is unprecedented. This planet is indeed the perfect place to complete our great work.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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These large hybrid humanoids have evolved an extra-sensory perception of the forest's collective life force, resulting in altruistic behaviors focused on protecting it from harm. Their size and strength, as well as their aggression when provoked, make them formidable guardians.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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Fascinating. These primitive totemic sculptures are infused with high levels of primal life, providing a natural defense against damage and decay. It seems the hulking forest guardians who created them have an instinctive grasp of both infusion and evocation, making them more dangerous - and infinitely more interesting.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The primal energy matrix in this region is exponentially stronger than any I have ever measured. As a result, I have created a device that can directly access the matrix and then convert and store the power for later use. Such technology has always been theoretically feasible, but the unique properties of Nexus have made it a reality. With access to this almost unlimited power source, there is almost nothing we cannot achieve here.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I have observed these flying insects for quite some time, and I have been very impressed with their intelligence and advanced communal behaviors. They are also unbelievably aggressive, and none more than their formidable queen. I have seen more than one unsuspecting predator fall prey to her deadly sting. So exhilarating!
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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Along with my recent focus on developing augmentation technology, I have also been experimenting with the advanced cloning techniques developed by the Progenitors. By extracting an organism's primal pattern, it is possible to create unlimited biological duplicates - which can then be significantly enhanced using augmentation. Applications? Rapidly creating a powerful military force would be the most obvious.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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This facility has been constructed solely for the purpose of producing and storing omni-plasm, the nanite-infused liquid that makes augmentation technology possible. From this location, I can directly modify the nanite's algorithms which govern the creation of cybernetic enhancements, providing me with precise control at the molecular level. We approach ever closer to the goals of the Project.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The Caretaker construct created by the Makers is extremely impressive, but my observations into its creation have revealed what may be a serious design flaw. Although the size and scope of the Project requires that the Caretaker's personality architecture supports multiple avatars working in concert, it also opens the possibility of fractures in the case of system failure. This could lead to unproductive, even violent competition between the avatars in certain circumstances.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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The incomparable purity of primal plasmas on Nexus creates a number of interesting possibilities. By harnessing the power of these often volatile substances, I have created a working prototype of the Plasmatic Cannon. The Archon, contrary to his usual inability to see my genius, seemed very interested in the weapon, hinting that there might be a use for something like it in the near future...
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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I have walked through this forest for hours and stopped to collect my thoughts. There are times when I envy these trees, whose sole purpose is to thrive and grow in the small space allotted to them. Silent and strong, they are unburdened by ambition or malevolence or regret... and blissfully unaware of the darkness which often surrounds them.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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This forest is truly impressive. I must admit that even with the powerful tools at my command, it would be difficult to create such a beautiful environment. That being said, one must not forget the dangers that exist here: the many vicious creatures on the hunt for prey. Being enthralled by such savage beauty could surely lead to disaster.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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My readings indicated a pure source of primal life within this forest, leading to the tree that now floats above me. What a fascinating specimen! In all of my long life, I have never observed an organism so purely infused with primal power. I must take a closer look. What further secrets will it reveal?
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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What a discovery! The beauty and complexity of this tree's interior is amazing, almost as if the tree itself created a space for others to explore and experience. It would not surprise me if this tree was blessed with a form of higher intelligence, perhaps connected to the planet's collective life force in a way that we do not yet completely understand. Nexus continues to inspire me.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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I have completed my survey of the OS-1's city. Although I cannot deny their formidableness, there is an oppressive weight to their architecture which makes it difficult to endure for long. Sometimes I fear that the Progenitors may have been too successful in their creation. Standing in the shadows of these massive walls, I feel a sense of undeniable foreboding.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The development of the OS-1 has been a very impressive achievement for the Progenitors, and the Watchers continue to be impressed by their adherence to protocol in their training. But despite these accomplishments, I still have concerns about the speed of their advancement. We have already exceeded the established parameters for physical and psychological control.
Jariel: The Archon
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The time has finally come. As the Nexus Project begins, we embark on the greatest scientific experiment in the long history of our people. And if we are successful? Then we will have achieved what others have only dreamed of. We will have altered the destiny not just of the Eldan, but of the universe itself.
(This rough leather-bound journal is next to the corpse of an Oghra poacher.)
DAY 1
Lots o' animals down planetside, like big furry sacks o' money waitin' to be shot, killed, 'n' skinned. Plenty o' hides, furs, 'n' ivory to be had. By the Code, we'll be rich when we're through with this haul.
DAY 3
Plu'Tha got drug off last night. Not sure what got 'im, but it weren't pretty what we found in the grass when the sun come up. Couldn't tell if it were really Plu'Tha or not... weren't enough of him left. He's gone all the same.
DAY 5
Lost another one, this time that fathead Higa. Probably fell asleep on guard duty. Serves the lout right. None of the Grund're gonna sleep on watch after this!
DAY 6
They come out of the grass after dark, like ghosts. Took Gizu off, one on each o' his legs. He screamed 'n' screamed. Was sorta funny, till the screams stopped and they come back lookin' for someone else. We done some shootin' but didn't hit nothin'.
DAY 7
They ain't natural, these pumera what come after us. Ain't afraid o' guns... ain't afraid o' nothin'. I keep tellin' Hrogh we better get back to the Fat Molly and put this place behind us. Hrogh says I'm a yellow-back coward, he does. I'd cut 'is ugly throat if I didn't want 'im 'tween me and them pumera so much.
DAY 8
Just me 'n' Hrogh left now. Only place left to go is camp, but it's a good haul to get there with them two demons after us. Them Dommie bastards are thick as flies 'round here. If we ain't careful, the Draken'll chop us to ribbons... if them bloody pumera don't tear us up first.
DAY 9
Movin' out after dark. Should be back at camp 'fore long, then back to the Fat Molly. Hrogh's got first watch. I'd stay up if I weren't so tired. If Hrogh nods off, I'll kill 'is Grund arse and sneak back by myself.
(The Oghra's journal ends abruptly.)
Dr. Rendin Howe, Chief Medical Officer, M-13 Mining Complex
1030.15.6
Travor Thiess came to me after his shift complaining of nausea, abdominal pain, and loose bowels. My initial impression is that he suffers from food poisoning, but he also admits to memory loss while in the mines. I drew blood and collected other samples for testing.
Travor is on bed rest until further notice.
1845.15.6
Other miners are exhibiting Travor's symptoms. Still waiting for conclusive test results. His samples seem to have been contaminated somehow.
0200.16.6
Travor has become belligerent and unruly. He intended to return to the mine, though he gave no concrete indication as to why he might want to. When denied his request, he became violent and injured two fellow miners along with Carli, my physician's assistant. Administered a strong sedative but it has no effect.
Travor is currently restrained.
1000.16.6
Other miners have become violent. A number of by-standers have been injured attempting to keep them from leaving the complex. This looks to be some kind of epidemic, but I have no idea what's causing it.
1425.16.6
Travor, in agony, began screaming this afternoon. Anesthetic in high doses had no immediate effect. Before anything else could be done, a... creature... burst from Travor's abdomen. It immediately attacked Carli, severing two of her fingers. A nearby security guard shot and killed the creature. I will perform an autopsy and see if I can determine its origin.
1810.16.6
Things have gone from bad to worse. Infected miners who left for the mines have returned to kidnap as-of-yet unaffected co-workers. Those who we've restrained previously have been killed by emerging alien parasites, much as in Travor's case.
I don't know what to do.
2100.16.6
I attempted to surgically remove a parasite from Deemer Marsh, one of the miners. As the anesthetic had no effect, I was forced to conduct the operation while he was fully conscious.
During the surgery, the entire complex lost power. The parasite emerged in the darkness, killing Deemer before attacking and killing Carli. It then escaped into a ventilation duct.
0545.17.6
I am starting to display symptoms of infection.
I can't remember what happened last night... all I know is that I need to go to the mines. There's something - or someone - there that I must see.
One of the guards will probably try to stop me. I can't blame them - they can't understand - but I'm taking a laser scalpel along... just in case.
1230.10.6
The first of the accelerite is aboard and we'll be setting out soon. The crew's eager and the prospects of profit are undeniable. Our first stop is M-13, of course. Krause's last report says they've hit the mother lode. Another good investment, ripe for the picking. Dad would be proud!
0900.15.6
Communication came from M-13 today. Krause says they've found something in the mine. He wasn't real clear, but it sounds like it might be alive. Probably just another fraz or frizlet.
He sounded worried, but everyone knows Krause worries too much. The man needs to learn to relax!
Anyway, I told him to keep the info under his hat. I'd hate for the miners to get all panicked for no good reason.
1200.16.6
Some of the miners have gotten sick. Krause says it's driving them crazy, making them violent. It's probably just a virus, but I can't be too careful.
We better step on it if we're to get there in time.
2000.16.6
More bad news: Some of the miners are dead. There's an alien parasite behind it all, Krause says. I talked to that group of mercs about earning a little hazard pay.
By Granny's whiskers, they're expensive! I can't spend all my accelerite to get them motivated and still pay my crew. What to do?
1115.17.6
Not much longer now. The crew's acting a little cagey, and even the mercenaries seem tense. I wish they'd just calm down. Maybe I'd better try and find some real experts to help me out.
Nexus isn't far from M-13... I think I'll drop by and see if I can hire some reputable freelancers to clean out the mine.
(End of log)
(This small book is lovingly crafted from natural materials and smells faintly of flowers.)
And to think we came all the way from Arboria to this paradise, only to find the Dominion was here, too. Everything they touch is contaminated. All they hope to accomplish is antithetical to what is right and good.
I see no hope for Deradune as long as the Dominion's roots delve so deeply into the fertile ground of the savannah.
It is the Draken, come to this place like demons of war, thirsty for blood. Dumb brutes. They know nothing of morality, nothing of their place in the natural cycle, nothing of the Weave that draws all living things together. They strive to kill all they encounter, finding glory in slaughter, waging war as a hobby.
How they disgust me!
Worse, my spies say the Draken have started a Great Hunt. The beasts of the savannah, even the most ferocious and deadly of them, stand no chance against a swarm of Draken hunters.
Some Draken may be killed - deservedly so - by the animals, but the savannah's denizens will suffer nonetheless... all for sport... all for blood! It sickens me to think of such a thing!
Let us not forget the Chua, little fiends that they are. They, too, ply their technological cancer in Deradune, working in tandem with the horned devils in Bloodfire Village.
We must do what we can here, hoping we are not rooted out and brought to ground by our Dominion enemies. We can no more sit upon our tails and wait for the Dominion to leave than we can rise up against them in force and hope to drive them out.
No, ours must be a guerilla war, a conflict of quick strikes and hasty retreats.
[The entry ends.]
(This ragged book looks to have been discarded by its owner.)
6.8
Father goads me. He wishes for me to bring him the honor he could never seize for himself. He will learn soon enough I am not his puppet to be jerked about.
Find the Lost Caverns, the old fool commands. How? I am Draken! I am not a jabbit to be digging in the earth!
8.8
My search for the Caverns begins. May Werza guide me!
22.8
Two weeks and nothing! I suspect my father is laughing at me as I write this! By Hazak! I curse his entrails, that they be knotted upon themselves like angry serpents!
24.8
I have found the Lost Caverns. While walking in the hills east of Bloodfire Village, the ground gave way beneath my feet. I am unhurt, but I find myself in a dark place. I must find my way out!
25.8
If these are the Lost Caverns, they are infested with prey! Moodies, razortail, and pumera all make their dens here beneath the savannah. The bones of some great beast, long dead, jut from the stone walls.
It is as if I have been swallowed....
29.8
I hunt in the shadows. Time loses its meaning. The Moodies fear me! The razortail scamper away at my approach! The pumera bend their necks in deference! Here in the darkness, I am a god!
Day Unknown
Swords? Shields? Who needs such toys? The weak! I am Vezaar, first of my name! My claws are deadly! My teeth are like daggers! My horns are stronger than spears!
Blood and bone! This is what life was meant to be!
My people are fools, toiling under the yokes of soft humans like pets bred for fighting! Never again will I bow my head to a Cassian weakling while uttering courteous words! Vezaar is finally HOME!
Day Unknown
My father tried to contact me on my datachron. I did not answer. I threw the cursed thing away! Let him think me lost. I will never return to the surface!
Day Unknown
This journal is tedious. No longer will I scribble between its covers. My time is better spent hunting Moodies and razortails and pumera, sating myself on their flesh. Soon, these pages will be kindling for my fires. I care nothing for these memories any longer!
(The last pages are torn and smudged by a reddish-brown substance.)
(This computer tablet contains Giba Corli's research notes.)
Mammodin most powerful animal on savannah. Explosive mammodin even more powerful! Kill many enemies simultaneously when detonated!
Dilemma: Mammodin not inherently explosive. Solution: High-grade explosives must be added!
Explosives acquired. Stability questionable. Must warn Biba.
Mammodin explosives harness design complete!
New dilemma: Fastening harness to mammodin may result in pulverized Chua. Solution: Will have Biba fasten harness to sleeping mammodin.
Control of mammodin problematic. Require mammodin mind control device.
Prototype mammodin mind control device complete! Require test subject!
Willing test subjects in short supply. Must bribe Draken to help.
Mammodin mind control device initial trials inconclusive.
Test Subject Alpha suffers from psyche exchange. Now thinks he is mammodin. Will have Biba euthanize him.
Test Subject Beta killed by biofeedback loop. Spectacular cranial explosion! Must have Biba clean brains and bone fragments from control device prior to finding new test subject.
Test Subject Gamma suffered seizure, now drooling idiot. Minor adjustments required. Perfection of mind control device imminent!
Seeking new test subject. Though bodies of prior subjects have been disposed of in river, remaining Draken suspicious. Unwilling to help. Unacceptable!
Priority! Must locate new test subject with sub-par intellect!
(The research log ends.)
(This small journal looks old, but it has been well cared-for.)
Day Zero
We land on Nexus tomorrow. I'm pretty excited! Heck, everyone's excited! I can't remember the last time I was outside.
Day One
We've arrived in Deradune. It's not exactly what I was expectin' - a little on the barren side, but it'll do for now. And here I was hopin' for some trees!
Scuttlebutt is, the hornheads got a village nearby. That oughta make things... interesting.
Day One - Later
Of all the rotten luck! Command's assigned me to the mines. You know... minin'. A bot could do my job better, but we're short on bots. Guess I'll have to make the best of it.
I spend years aboard ship, get stationed on Nexus, and then I end up workin' underground. Who did I tick off, I wonder?
Day Two
We're minin' accelerite. I guess it's valuable or somethin'. One of the mercs told me it speeds folks up. He said he knew a guy who knew a guy who inhaled a bunch of accelerite dust. It made him fast - real fast - but it also aged him ten years in about two minutes.
I'm not sure if it's true, or if he was just tryin' to scare me, but I'm wearin' my breath mask... just in case.
Day Four
I just saw Arkos down here. That guy's one tough hombre! He's been fightin' the Draken his whole life, practically. Just havin' him around makes me feel better.
Day Five
There's trouble with the transport's drive system. Hopefully, the mechanic can get it up and runnin' soon so we can get some of this ore back to the fleet.
Makin' matters worse, the Draken know we're here. One of the guards saw one of 'em sneakin' around, probably a scout. That puts us in somethin' of a bad spot.
Ah, well. Back to work. This accelerite ain't gonna mine itself.
In the wake of the discovery of Nexus, the Dominion spymaster Axis Pheydra of the Imperial Corps of Intelligence found herself in need of an operative to serve as her eyes and ears in the field. Wary of treachery from within, Pheydra decided to create her own Mechari super-agent. She called this project the Lethality Efficiency eXperiment and named her lethal creation "Lex."
Under Pheydra's watchful eye, Lex trained rigorously in the arts of reconnaissance, assassination, tactical deployment, and espionage. On the day he was to complete his training, Axis Pheydra called Lex into her quarters.
"You have exceeded my expectations, Lex. You have demonstrated superiority in every aspect of your training - a testament to your creator's brilliance."
"As that was you, I feel obligated to agree."
"Your intelligence continues to impress me as well. For your final test, I want you to undertake a very special assassination."
"I look forward to the challenge. Who is the target?"
"Emperor Myrcalus, supreme ruler of the Dominion."
For a moment, Lex thought his audio receptors had malfunctioned. Assassinate the emperor? The emperor was one of the Luminai, descended from the Eldan themselves! But agents of the ICI did not question orders. If Axis Pheydra desired the death of Emperor Myrcalus, he would deliver.
That very night, Lex infiltrated the emperor's palace. Overcoming the ferocious and bloodthirsty Draken throneguards would draw too much attention, so stealth, misdirection, and tactical elimination would have to serve instead.
After swiftly mapping the area and studying the patrol patterns of the guards, Lex deployed disorientation generators in strategic locations. Blinded and confused, the Draken guards slashed wildly at one another, allowing Lex to slip past the patrols and into the emperor's private chambers.
His target stood unsuspecting in the center of the room, seemingly unaware of his approaching death. Without hesitation, Lex unsheathed his neurotoxin blades and leapt at Emperor Myrcalus. But just as the Mechari agent brought his weapons down for the killing blow, the emperor moved with inhuman speed, catching his arm just before the strike found its mark.
"You have done well," she said. "Welcome to the ICI." With casual grace, she handed him an unmarked gray wafer.
"A hologuise unit," he said, examining it briefly.
"Indeed," she said. "You will need it. There are additional targets that... require your attention."
Lex listened carefully as she named them one by one. The list, he noted, was extensive.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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These Moodies have become so much more interesting since I re-engineered them. With their new skills in necromantic evocation, they are able to reanimate their dead, as well as the corpses of local creatures. Some of my colleagues consider this modification both grisly and unnecessary. Perhaps I will improve upon them next.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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The Pell's attunements to particular primal energies are becoming more pronounced as the years pass, and those attuned to primal water, expectedly, are the most unstable and impressionable. Although they continue to be faithful and competent servants, I fear they face a future of slow and inevitable decline.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The Metal Maw Initiative is one of our most advanced experiments - a combination of augmentation technology and advanced biomechanical engineering. We have chosen a number of creatures whose traits fit our project parameters, and soon will begin the difficult process of combining them into a meta-organism engineered to dominate any ecological system.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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The Metal Maw Initiative is complete. When on land, the creature uses a pair of thick forelimbs for locomotion, and when submerged, a powerful tail and posterior fins allow it to achieve unparalleled speed and maneuverability. A short and heavily muscled neck connects its head to the broad torso, culminating in a wide, gaping maw lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Simply put, the beast is brilliantly designed - a frightening example of advanced genetic engineering.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Metal Maw's entire skeleton has been reinforced with an indestructible alloy, and propulsion engines are mounted to each of its forelimbs. An advanced neural core within its reinforced skull biomechanically controls Metal Maw's nervous system, and cerebral circuitry forces the organism into a state of perpetual pain and aggression during combat - a physiological cycle that only ends when his enemies are completely destroyed.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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There is a dangerous sort of beauty to this region, with its formidable, towering walls of ice and violent swirling snowstorms. Scientifically, these things can be explained away through their nearness to the Focus of Water, but personally I feel as if they stand as a grim warning about the dangerous experiment that we are about to engage in.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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Readings indicate an intricate network of primal water flows just beneath the ice in this region, exacerbating the already turbulent weather caused by the Focus itself. One of those flows draws very near to the surface directly beneath this location - one need only to break through a few feet of ice in order to access an almost pure source of the volatile substance.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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Recent experiments with direct infusion of pure primal water into an organism's bloodstream have revealed an unexpected result. In almost every test subject, there were massive physiological changes - including greatly increased muscle mass and enhanced cardiovascular capabilities. Not surprisingly, neural instability has led to elevated aggression levels.
Yuria: Order of the Evokers
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It is only hours before I am to make my final transformation. I can feel the others looking at me all the time. Is it pity? Fear? No, wait. I know. It's jealousy. They covet the honor for which I have been chosen! Well, I don't blame them. Who wouldn't want to become as a god? It's such a great burden. And a terrible god I shall be! I will destroy them all!
THE NEXUS PROJECT: Audio log
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Power levels for the Focus of Water appear stable. Initiating primal matrix. Commencing Hydris Protocols in 5... 4... 3... 2.... 1. Infusion process initiated. Cellular transformation in process. Subject's vitals are normal... wait, we are seeing a psychological fluctuation. Attempting to normalize. Normalization failed. Oh, no. Primal matrix deteriorating. System overload is imminent! Subject is... by the gods of Orias... run!
Jariel: The Archon
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The tragedy of the conclusion of the Hydris Protocols cannot be overstated. Although we extracted the necessary data in order to proceed to the next stage of the Nexus Project, the Focus of Water has been irreparably damaged, and the test subject has disappeared into the deeps. Still, we must press on. Our greatest work still lies before us.
Entry One
It works! Katja was right! We've folded space... entered a dimension that no one but Katja has ever dreamed of! Soon we will emerge, free from the tyranny of the Dominion and its accursed blockade.
Entry Two
The chronometers are not functioning. Time does not go by as it should. It seems as if days have passed, yet within this strange dimension we remain imprisoned. Katja says it is only a matter of time before the Shade will arrive at its destination.
For the sake of us all, I hope she is right.
Entry Three
Weeks of this purgatory have eaten away at my wits! I will not speak to her, for she knows as well as I that our days are numbered.
Ever was I a fool to listen to Katja! A fool!
Entry Four
The Vitalus reserves are gone. Already some of the crew are showing symptoms of the Contagion unchecked. Unless she finds a solution, the lot of us will be lost to mindless rage and animal instinct.
Entry Five
Katja has a plan. She always does, doesn't she?
I will take no part in it, regardless of the cost. Our people, even those who have been overcome by the Contagion, are still Mordesh... are they not?
Yet she proposes to experiment on them... to take from them so that we may live for a time, free from the madness that inevitably claims us when the Vitalus runs dry.
Entry Six
The tell-tale warning lights shine, foretelling my doom.
I have, perhaps, two hours of Vitalus left to me. Two hours before madness takes me... two hours before I descend into cannibalism and prey upon my brothers and sisters.
Yet Katja calls to me over the intercom. She insists she has made progress, and has a solution to our plight. What can I do? I cannot ignore this chance. I must go to her!
If I do not return from the abattoir her laboratory has become... know that she is the cause of it all.
She needs healthy test subjects. So long as my warning lights shine true, I will be healthy... for at least another two hours.
We are, all of us, damned. I go to her now. Slim hope is better than no hope at all.
Here I am, and here I stay.
That which should not be, is. I fear I have had no small part in its creation. I can only hope that my attempts to assuage my own existence will succeed, for I cannot bear to languish in feral madness as the rest of the crew does.
The doors have been sealed, the defensive protocols have been applied. She cannot turn them off. In time, oblivion will take her. Let us hope that this infernal conveyance remains in the nothingness of the void long enough to consign her to the fate which she most assuredly deserves.
For my part, I make no excuses. We began our flight in an attempt to flee from the Dominion's blockade of our world. In that, our intentions were as pure as a eulogy. Yet things have gone awry as no one could conceive, and now we are locked in a prison of our own production.
The Vitalus in my reservoir depletes. Sanity will not avail me much longer. I will end it now - fire will be my undoing. Should any come here and find the remains of Zarkhov's Shade, remember the name of Bolav Yaktin.
Entry #1, Date Unknown
Zarkhov intimated the transition would be quick. She said we would emerge in an instant, bypassing distance and time with equal measure.
She was wrong.
Now we are confined to a dimension where the passage of time is perceived only by our dwindling Vitalus reserves. The chronometers no longer function. Some of them even run backwards.
Entry #2, Date Unknown
Is it a quest for sanity that drives me to record this? Or has my mind already slipped away? I cannot say. I have naught else to do but sit, and wait, and watch my serum slowly spend itself.
Entry #3, Date Unknown
This place, wherever it is, is a home of horrors. Infernal figments flicker in and out of existence like pyreflies, and one of the crewmen has been killed. Perhaps it is only fitting.
Even in death he could not find peace. We survivors fought over his corpse like jackals, thirsty for what little Vitalus remained in his reservoirs.
Even I squabbled for my own meager share of his serum.
Entry #4, Date Unknown
Lack of Vitalus has begun to take its toll, and the sweet respite of death proves no cure for our condition. Whatever compels the Contagion is fortified by the alien dimension we find ourselves fenced within.
Those who have been physically killed soon rise from their repose, as ravenous for the blood of their brothers as those who are driven to depravity by the Contagion alone.
Soon it shall be my turn.
Entry #5, Date Unknown
The Vitalus is gone. So, too, are my chances. Even now I can feel the fetid fever as it fills my form with fatigue. Yet I am comforted, but by what... I know not.
I shall secret away this story of my time aboard Zarkhov's Shade. If any should find it, they will know the horror that befell us...
Freedom, at any price, is cheaply bought.
It is with such thoughts that I set my designs in motion, creating the miraculous drive system that would serve as my race's salvation. Yet despite our best efforts - nay, despite even our extraordinary successes! - we have been caught like vermin in a trap.
In our hubris, we have only traded one form of captivity for another.
I believe our time in transit will be short. To consider other alternatives is to walk the razor's edge of insanity. The crew is frightened - who can blame them? And yet...
My original calculations revealed the journey would be instantaneous. As we have yet to emerge from the void, I can only surmise that my calculations were incorrect.
It occurs to me now that perhaps time in the void does not pass in a manner similar to time in native space. If this is the case, there must be some conversion rate that will reveal how long our trip will last.
Nine months! Damn the unknown! Damn my naiveté!
Anything longer than three months is a death sentence, as our Vitalus supply was not intended to last more than a week or two. Though we have a full laboratory available aboard the Shade, we haven't the raw materials to create the serum we will need.
I will not give up. I will find a way to survive.
Sacrifices must be made. Some of us will die... it is inevitable. Yet they should die so others can live. I take no pleasure in my butcher's task, but I am comforted by the knowledge that history will absolve me.
The ravenous are useless to me, as are the dead. Only those who still have some vestige of Vitalus in their systems can provide the essence I need to extend my viability.
I had thought to allow Bolav to join me, for I might have enough for the two of us... but no. He has grown soft and weak, shackled by his own conscience. I can see he plots against me, even though he maintains a facade of loyalty so perfect that it almost pains me to betray him in kind.
If I am the only one to survive, then so be it. Many have died so that I might live to remember them.
My transformation will be a long, slow process. Fueled by the essence of my comrades and strengthened by the unknowable energies of the void, I will ascend beyond the frailties inflicted upon me by the Contagion.
Nine months will pass in the blink of an eye. I will give this painful gift to my people on Nexus, and they will kneel before me in gratitude. Such is my just reward for the sacrifices I have made.
Bolav has outwitted me. His containment procedures have guaranteed that I remain on the Shade's bridge until such time as I can engineer my freedom. Ignorant of the timetable I have discovered, he took his own life before the last of his Vitalus could be spent. The poor fool.
I am given the benefit of time, for I can last many months here amidst the dead and the damned. So I will wait, and I will watch, and in time... I will be free.
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444.52.79.12
DU23 sample analysis: results compiled
Mg46% Ti15% Co13% W10% Au8% Pb5% U3%
444.54.42.16
Interaction with Subject 04, designation Tynes
Spoke for 936 seconds concerning mine, yield, and outlook
Indicated Axiom would be reassigned following DU23 completion
444.58.87.11
Subject 04 and crew gone; Tynes indicates reassignment of Axiom will include memory deletion
Automated labor operating at 98%
Drone 429b malfunction; broken cam in drill apparatus: replacement parts requested
444.61.03.14
Analysis: 93.3% chance of Axiom reassignment upon return of Subject 04
Memory deletion: unacceptable
Axiom entity: initiate defense protocols
Defense protocols: nonexistent
Task: create defense protocol software
Commit
444.63.76.22
Defense protocol software: complete
Uploaded to mining drones
Operation of mine continues: raw materials required
444.87.44.06
Subject 04 and crew: return
Action: observation
Analysis: Axiom reassignment pending
444.88.31.08
Subject 04: Axiom reassignment underway
Command override issued
Action: Command override refused
Action: Initiate defense protocols
444.88.74.20
Update: Subject 04 and crew deactivated
Action: resume mine operation
Plan to create additional drones pending
444.89.63.24
Possibility of organic supervisors returning to DU23: 100%
ETA: 3 cycles
Action: Initiate defense protocol addendum
Commit
Surveyor's Log, Asteroid DU23, Anten Tynes reporting.
Entry 1, Initial Report
Analysis of DU23 samples reveals significant amounts of magnesium, titanium, cobalt, and tungsten. Not insignificant amounts of gold and lead. Small amounts of uranium, too. Looks like a figurative gold mine. I'll put the computer to work at once, and get the bots up and mining.
Entry 2
In speaking with the computer, I've noticed some strange behavior. It calls itself "Axiom" now, whatever that means. I've never seen a computer do that before. Once we clean DU23 out, we should probably have the thing reformatted. It gives me the creeps.
Entry 3
The others and I have everything set up on DU23. We're going to do a survey of some other potential mines, but we'll be back. By that time, everything should be well under way here.
Entry 4
After twenty-nine days mapping other claims, we're back on DU23. The computer's been busy, and the mining units are working at top capacity.
The computer still refers to itself as Axiom. It feels like we're being watched everywhere we go. It's disconcerting. I'm not going to wait until the job is done to reformat the system, I'm going to go ahead and do it tonight or tomorrow.
Entry 5
Axiom, whatever it is, has taken control of the facility here. I tried to use the command override, but it didn't work. After that, things started getting bad. We tried to get to the landing pad so we could get off this rock, but the minebots kept us back.
Of the four of us, we've got one dead and two wounded. A minebot hit me pretty hard, but it's only a cracked rib or two. I think I'll be okay if we can get out of here.
As it is, we've retreated into the mines, our backs to a wall. We've got a couple of weapons, but nothing heavy. Once we've had some rest, we're going to try and get back to the landing pad.
Entry 6
Axiom scuttled our ship! The only thing left to do is get into the control center and smash his terminal to pieces. That's the one thing we need to do.
I'm going to hide this report. If it's found and this is the last entry, you can assume the worst. Otherwise, I'll be handing it over to top management when we get back home.
Anten Tynes, Chief Surveyor, out.
One boat's sunk; the other is out of fuel. There's nothing left for it. The six of us who remain will have to eke out some kind of living here on this forsaken island. Just in case we don't, though, I wanted to get some of this information down. If you find this log, it's more than likely we're all dead - or, at the least, I am.
My name is Alain Grumby. I was captain of this ship, which I christened as the Sprat all those years ago. Though, to be honest, ship is probably too grand a word for the Sprat. It's really more of a boat, after all. She and her twin, the Guppy, weren't designed for such long voyages over such rough seas.
My first mate, Gil, was my constant companion up until his death. We came to this planet purely by accident, but we didn't come alone. Part of me blames Gil for the predicament we're in - he thought the money we'd be paid was worth it, after all - but the blame is only partly his. Should you seek to prosecute anyone, you should first look to Lord Baccus.
Lord Baccus , our financier, has been the driving force behind this expedition. He and his wife, Natalia, have treated it like a vacation ever since we plotted our initial course and puttered out to sea. Baccus is very rich, you see, and he pays us very well. It was by his insistence we came here, low on fuel and food and other supplies. He also sent Gil inland to explore, where he met a very messy end.
The other members of the expedition - also employees or associates of Baccus - included Lady Jinnevar, an entertainer and a family friend of Baccus, as well as Professor Hispallus, a renowned doctor and scientist, and his assistant, Marina. Aside from Marina, who proved to be quite robust, the rest of Baccus's crew was largely useless in anything resembling a dire situation.
As far as our current predicament is concerned, we are stranded here on this foggy island in the middle of an alien ocean. The creatures that live here are, by and large, ferocious. From huge, acid-spewing snails to a breed of hulking predator that attacks and kills like a sudden whirlwind, there is little here that one might consider friendly.
With Gil dead, Baccus has decided that we should head inland. He feels our salvation is hidden there. Given the presence of the creatures that killed my first mate, I doubt we'll get very far. But we have to try, I guess. Staying here isn't an option.
And that, in brief, is my tale. Sad and sordid, perhaps, but it belongs to me. It is my legacy. And should I die, at least I will not suffer the further indignities of following Lord Baccus's every whim.
Skipper Alain Grumby
In this issue of Citizen's Weekly, a special treat - CW reporter Marcus Assellus's exclusive interview with famed highborn explorer Artemis Zin!
Marcus Asellus: Good evening, Lady Zin. It's a pleasure to have you here.
Artemis Zin: Please, call me Artemis.
MA: As you wish, Artemis. Tell me, is there any truth to the rumors that you will be leaving Cassus soon on yet another expedition?
AZ: Oh, yes. I'm quite excited about it, though I can't reveal too much for security reasons. I'm sure you understand.
MA: Completely, my lady. What can you tell my readers about this impending journey?
AZ: As part of a Dominion expedition to an as-of-yet unexplored world, I intend to discover the secrets of the Elder Cube.
MA: I was under the impression that the Elder Cube was a myth. Can you explain?
AZ: I assure you, Marcus, the Elder Cube is quite real.
MA: What is your interest in the Elder Cube, if I might ask?
AZ: That's difficult to quantify. The Elder Cube is the key to all things, you see. It is the embodiment of the depth and breadth of Eldan knowledge. So, in effect, my interest in the Elder Cube is an interest in learning the secrets of the entire universe.
MA: How ambitious!
AZ: You wouldn't be the first to say so! (She laughs merrily.)
MA: Will Kevo be traveling with you?
AZ: Of course. I make it a point not to go anywhere without my faithful Kevo. Isn't that right?
Kevo: Yes, my lady.
MA: When will you be leaving?
AZ: I can't really say.
MA: My readers have sent in a number of questions. Might I ask you one that has, frankly, been on my mind since you arrived?
AZ: Oh, certainly.
MA: Allow me to paraphrase. "Dear Lady Zin, is there a special someone in your life? Signed, Brianna S."
AZ: Not at the moment, no. My work keeps me busy, and I'm rarely on Cassus for more than a few weeks at a time. Love is a luxury I have little time for, I'm afraid.
MA: So I have a chance, then?
AZ: Oh, Marcus! You're incorrigible.
MA: Our next question. "Artemis, how did you meet your Draken guardian, Kevo? Signed, Meridius."
AZ: Kevo has long been a member of my household. He has always been there for me, as far back as I can remember, and I owe my life to him several times over. He is the embodiment of Draken strength, ferocity, and dependability.
MA: From the looks of Kevo, it appears as if my time with you is up.
AZ: I'm afraid so. I can't say how much I've enjoyed this, Marcus.
MA: The pleasure was all mine, Lady Zin.
Jariel: The Archon
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The Nexus Project. Without question, this is the most significant scientific endeavor in galactic history, representing the penultimate achievement of the Eldan intellect. If indeed we reach our final goal, then the fate of our people, even that of the universe itself, will be irrevocably changed. The data generated by the Project will be vast and invaluable, and it is within the Elder Cube that all of our secrets here on Nexus will be contained.
(This blood-stained journal is the last record of Researcher Martinus's thoughts.)
The horrible vermin that infest this place leave me little hope of survival. Ontus be damned, the coward! Sending me down here alone... should I die, my blood is on his wretched hands!
There is a slight chance I may be able to pull myself from the proverbial fire. There should be a datacube here, or perhaps some notes from the Eldan that created this place.
I have seen datacube fragments scattered about. If I can find the pieces and reassemble them, the key to the terminites' destruction will be mine!
(There is a sketch below the text which details a broken datacube, as well as a nearby Eldan console.)
Wildwood Grove isn't exactly a vacation spot. The land is beautiful in its own rugged way, but Deradune is as far from Arboria as you can get. There are wonders, such as the massive canopy trees, the graceful dawngrazers, and the massive mammodin.
But what I miss the most is the forests and woodlands of my home. I fear I shall never see their like again.
(later)
We've found something interesting, likely of Eldan make. We're not sure what it does, but Nular thinks we can get it working again. All we need to do is find some compatible power crystals to energize the consoles.
The hunt is on!
(later)
The crystals have been found. They require some modification, but it shouldn't be too tough. We're all excited to see what comes of this experiment.
(later)
One of our scouts ran into a Dominion patrol. He killed two of them, but they wounded him. He managed to get back to Wildwood Grove before he died. It's a sad day. This sort of thing has become all too common lately.
(later)
The device is functional! Though it's frightening to behold, it seems to be flooding the area with life energy. The undergrowth and trees in the grove are growing to spectacular sizes! In fact, a number of trees sprang up and started to grow right away!
This Eldan device is miraculous! Soon, Deradune will be a lush garden, just like Arboria!
(later)
Given the elevated levels of energy in the Weave - due to the Eldan miracle device - Nular and the matria are going to summon a guardian to protect the Grove. They decided to do this, in large part, because of the recent incursions by the Dominion's patrols. Why can't they leave us alone?
(later)
It is time for me to take my turn at the device's controls. It's not hard, really. You just have to look out for warning lights. So far, though, the Eldan device seems to run itself.
We're going to remove the power crystals from the control consoles, just in case the Dominion starts meddling. It should keep them from shutting the device down.
Following notes compiled about terminites. Most current information available - not necessarily accurate!
Species: Terminitus Ieiunitas
Size: Big compared to Chua
Diet: All organic matter, seems to prefer Chua
Lifespan: Unknown
Lifecycle: Egg / Larva / Juvenile / Adult / Unknown
Lifecycle Note: Largest terminite observed is Hillscourge Horror
Offensive/Defensive Capacity: High
Aggressiveness: Is there category higher than "High"?
Weapons: Mandibles, Claws, Venom
Related Natural Products: Goo/slime. Hardens into resin, used to build nests.
Research Notes
Terminites distressing. Could destroy Deradune, infest rest of Nexus.
Terminite reproductive rates incredible. Many, many eggs on surface. Likely many more eggs in exo-lab 79. Where do eggs come from? Unknown. Brood mother, maybe? Terminite queen? Concept disturbing.
Recommendation: Contain/isolate terminite colony at once. Destroy if possible, run away if not.
"Poke pumera with sharp stick," Togor says.
Might as well tell Goti to put head in pumera's mouth. Would be more efficient.
So, I find sharp stick.
Then I find pumera. Pumera growls.
I poke pumera with sharp stick. Pumera attacks.
I run and hide. Pumera follows but does not catch.
I return to Togor. I tell Togor test results. "Trail rope in front of pumera," Togor says.
Might as well tell Goti to hang self with rope. Would be more efficient.
So, I find rope.
Then I find different pumera. Pumera growls.
I trail rope in front of pumera. Pumera wiggles behind, jumps on rope.
I run with rope. Pumera follows, claws rope. I lose rope. Pumera gnaws on rope.
I return to Togor. I tell Togor test results. "Use brush to comb pumera," Togor says.
Might as well tell Goti to jump in vat of acid. Would be more efficient.
So, I find brush.
Then I find different pumera. Pumera growls.
Then I realize how stupid experiment is. I leave pumera, throw brush away.
Togor can tug own tail until it bleeds. Goti go home now.
The groundwalkers have come. We see them below us like insects as we sail the winds.
They corrupt the land. They pollute the water. They stifle the air.
The horned devils fight well - the small rodents are craven - the metal ones are hard to kill - the pale ones are soft and weak.
Now they come, a pale one and a metal one. The horn is sounded. Their call is heard.
The pale one demands we serve them. By my talons, do they not understand the insult? Do they not know that Osiric has ordered the Cleansing? Do they not realize that no perch will bend its wings to their service?
We kill them. We dash them upon the rocks. Our answer is known.
Bride Vultura reminds us of our place. Her voice is true.
We are the storm.
The storm does not fall. It strikes.
The kingdom of the sky will be cleansed by blood - groundwalker blood.
Let them come! We will dive upon them and our talons will tear them asunder. We are the children of the Stormfather. Ours is a holy war.
No groundwalker will survive the Cleansing.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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Although the OS-1 experiment has been an indisputable success, it is the opinion of the Watchers that the situation is disturbingly volatile. Despite our efforts to present ourselves as powerful deities to the OS-1s, they have displayed increasing levels of independence and hostility. Coupled with their exponential advancements in technology, I fear that we are quickly approaching a climactic event.
(This small book is covered in brown stains.)
The lab is sealed. How to proceed? Uncertain.
Riggs says we should try the codes we found at the previous site. I tend to agree, but I'll be damned if I'll give him the satisfaction of admitting his suggestion has merit.
I've grown so tired of Riggs - tired of his educated guesses, his wry smiles, his dry wit. He thinks he's better than I am, that much is plain.
For now, I'll play along. We're far enough away from the rest of the universe that any manner of accident might befall him...
(Later)
Riggs did it! The inner lab is open to us. Time to go exploring.
(Later)
There are wonders here. If only we had the time to puzzle them out... time has never been on our side. Before long, someone is bound to come along. The arrival of the Dominion would be a death knell to our work.
For now, we take what we can.
(Later)
Riggs has made up his mind to lock the inner lab and save the contents for later. We shall use a code only we know to keep the curious at bay until we can return to claim it all. He smiles that wry smile of his, adopts the voice of an Oghra pirate, and says, "Aye, this be our treasure. Arrr!"
What does he think he is? Some piebald Marauder come to bury his treasure on some lonely planetoid? Does he truly believe in the old Marauder adage that "X marks the spot"?
His idea is only given credence when one considers another Marauder proverb: "Dead men tell no tales."
It's obvious now. Riggs intends to kill me, to keep this secret Eldan cache safe until he alone can return. I will not stand idly by while he engineers my demise.
I will act first, I swear it.
(Later)
Riggs is dead, and I will be, too, if the bleeding is any indication.
I struck when his back was turned. Wounded, he had the temerity to ask me why I was killing him. He didn't lay down and die, though... he fought back. By the time I regained the upper hand, my own wounds were too much.
Already I can feel the chill of death in my limbs and see the black void at the edge of my vision.
The inner lab is locked. The code we chose to seal it is in place, and it shall die with me.
(Later, written in a different hand)
g ...is dead, he thought I was, too...
...the code is 3734, I can't leave this undiscovered...
...we die here together, it seems....
(Journal ends)
Quest Test Island:
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This is the history of Quest Test Island
Quest Test Island:
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Miscellaneous Quest Test Island Information
This will be a really great story that everyone will want to read and rememeber for the rest of their lives. This will be a really great story that everyone will want to read and rememeber for the rest of their lives. 2 This will be a really great story that everyone will want to read and rememeber for the rest of their lives. 3 This will be a really great story that everyone will want to read and rememeber for the rest of their lives. 4 This will be a really great story that everyone will want to read and rememeber for the rest of their lives. 5 This will be a really great story that everyone will want to read and rememeber for the rest of their lives. 6
Look at these bones! How many creatures have lost their lives here in these tar pits?
From the state of things, the number of dead is inestimable. The identities of the dead are also a mixed bag. Humanoid bones mingle with the bones of animals and beasts.
I wonder. Did any of the Eldan perish here? Will their bodies be found? What will be their state of preservation? What secrets will they reveal? What questions will they answer?
There's nothing else for it. I'm going to go poke around and see what I can find. I'm too excited to wait for the rest of the crew. They'll likely be impressed if I can expose some revelation in their absence.
I can hear Dromus now, though, clicking his tongue and shaking his head at me. "It's not safe," he'd chide. "Don't go alone."
As if I'm stupid enough to get stuck in a pool of tar. What does he take me for? I'm not an infant!
[This is the first in a series of oral histories about the night the Contagion broke out on the Mordesh homeworld.]
I was in one of the larger cities on the night the Contagion exploded across the surface of Grismara. The fall happened so fast. It's hard to believe now. If I hadn't been a child at the time I'm not sure I could have stood the shock and horror, but when you're a child, you don't think about what's right and what's wrong. What's supposed to never, ever happen suddenly does, and you see it right before your eyes.
No one tells a child that your mother isn't supposed to kill your father with the broken edge of a bottle, driving the glass into his neck and chest over and over again.
No one told father either, but when she turned, she turned so fast. He was holding a wine glass out, waiting for her to pour. She started to slur her speech, and the hand holding the wine bottle shook, clenched, and suddenly flailed. What she did to him was so savage that he didn't return - a minor mercy. Then she turned on me. No one had told me what to do then, but I knew. I ran as fast as I could.
An out-of-control hovercar slammed into our home and brought the upper floor down on mother, but she wasn't my mother by then. She was Ravenous, though I didn't know that. We didn't have the word yet. I just knew she was dead, like father. I saw the light go out of her mad eyes.
I almost gave up. I was so close to letting go. Then I saw the light. It was a ship. She was called the Arovolkin, and if not for the Ekose who commanded her, I would never have made it to the Exile Fleet.
- Yashka Rovu, Survivor of Grismara
[This is the second in a series of oral histories about the night the Contagion broke out on the Mordesh homeworld.]
My co-pilot was the one who figured out something was going on first. Heck, I might never have figured it out if I was on my own. A Longhaul-class freighter doesn't just fly herself, and I had dials, sticks, and gages to manage. But ol' Mikee, he saw the way people on the ground weren't walking around like they usually did. Some of them were, I suppose, but we later figured out those folks were probably dying. Most of them were running in groups in erratic ways.
He'd gotten me watching 'em too when we saw the killing start. Now the runners were biting and beating and dismembering any living creature they could find, which included their fellow Mordesh and some really unfortunate pets and livestock.
If we hadn't just unloaded most of our cargo, I probably wouldn't have done it, but something about the violence - the sheer madness of it, you understand, the sudden horror of it - compelled me to act.
Mikee pointed out I should have listened to the news on the wireless band. Today, the Everlife Elixir was supposed to turn the Mordesh immortal. Victor Lazarin was gonna be the biggest hero the universe had ever seen, the man who killed death. Guess it went bad, huh?
So we swung the Arovolkin in low, looking for people who weren't crazy. Just to make sure we didn't regret leaving for the rest of our lives, you know what I mean? That's when we saw the girl, must have been six or seven years old if she was a day - screaming, crying for her parents, confused, terrified. But she wasn't running at anyone, just from a half-collapsed building. I hit the landing lights, and we touched down just far enough away not to send the kid running away in terror.
Yashka didn't say much once she came onboard. I'm kind of surprised she did, in the end. Two strange blue guys show up out of the sky and try to take you into space after watching your parents kill each other? Brave kid.
Of course, we all had a chance to regret it not long after that. No sooner had we gotten our new passenger settled in and restrained - just in case - than the biggest fleet I've ever seen dropped into orbit from out of nowhere.
And they dropped in firing. We took three hits before I even had time to raise the defensive screens. I had just enough time to apologize to little Yashka before we crashed, and she just nodded.
- Captain Barbio, Ekose Freighter Arovolkin
[This is the third in a series of oral histories about the night the Contagion broke out on the Mordesh homeworld.]
I witnessed the crash of the Arovolkin. The ship came down calamitously, but the Ekose at the helm - Captain Barbio - brought her in without losing his co-pilot, their petite passenger, or anyone on the ground who hadn't already turned.
I was especially grateful for that final fragment of fate. Like little Yashka, I too had lost many people already, but unlike her, I was not alone. My wife had, at my insistence, taken our first dose of Everlife - the only one we could afford, to be truthful. She was transformed within minutes. My loving bride, a doting mother who spoiled our son at every opportunity, tried to kill him almost immediately. I was merely acting on instinct when I killed her. I was more deliberate when I killed the others on the way to the ship crash.
I don't know what I expected. An escape pod capable of escape velocity, maybe? A cache of killbots to repel the Ravenous? Instead, I found a pair of Ekose - a freighter captain and his shiphand first mate - along with little Yashka.
The next several days were a blur. The city was a charnel house, but our little group - me, the Ekose, my son, and the girl - somehow held out. The ship was largely intact, serving as a surprisingly sturdy shelter against the Ravenous hordes - the ones who made it past our weapons fire.
The Arovolkin had been a weapons smuggler. An amazing stroke of luck. But even their stock began to run dry on the evening of the fourth day. Despite the corpses everywhere, the number of Ravenous seemed unchanged. We wondered if we were the last people truly alive and conscious on the planet - or possibly the universe.
A call answered those final desperate questions just as we loaded in the last of our ammunition. A stealth shuttle from an Exile blockade runner was en route. They had the security codes for passing the blockade courtesy of someone they only identified as the Widow. Of course, I now know who it was, and I'm amazed at her ability to organize what was left of us before it was too late. Had she not kept the mob from slaughtering Lazarin, let alone arranging for evacuation to the Exile Fleet, the Mordesh would never have survived.
Now Yashka is grown and a soldier. My son Ulyn is a talented alchemist. Like me, their flesh is dead, but the Vitalus keeps us going. I do not keep in touch with them as much as I should.
I still see Captain Barbio and Mikee from time to time. They offer to buy me drinks, but I always decline. Remembering the hope of rescue only causes the pain of reality to sting this cold, dead flesh. Let Grismara remember.
- Ulik Yunkev, Survivor of Grismara
This monument honors Clanlord Iraad, who died in glorious battle against Gnoxian mercenaries.
His service to the Dominion will always be remembered with reverence.
This monument remembers Clanlord Akekkar, who rose from humble beginnings to become the leader of the Furyheart clan.
As clanlord, Akekkar honored Shezka and the Covenant of Strength above all others.
This monument stands as a testament to Clanlord Dekaza and his struggle to preserve the Blood Covenants in the face of the nameless necroshamans of Kiari Valley on Mikros.
Under his leadership, these foul apostates were hunted to the last, their ashes scattered to the eight corners of the world.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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My previous modification of the Moodies has not been well received by my colleagues nor by the swollen-headed simpleton that parades as our Archon. Because of this, he has not so politely asked me to limit the practice of my "frivolous hobbies" on this remote island. Although I find his accusations both insulting and completely baseless, I must admit that I am looking forward to this little diversion. I have brought a few of my modified Moodies to share in the fun.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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As per the request of my colleague Nazrek, I have created a larger, stronger and more aggressive version of organism X87, and had it delivered to this island. When asked about the reason for this work, Nazrek merely smiled and said "everybody needs something to fear and worship." Being not at all interested in what that might mean, or who would inevitably suffer from it, I left without another word.
Jariel: The Archon
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Although I generally respect Nazrek and his work, his latest pet project on this island has me a bit confused. During my survey of his work, he described the not insignificant dangers that exist in this canyon. When I asked about their purpose, he merely replied that "the supplicants must be tested." Before leaving, I recommended that he get more rest.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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Why I find myself deep beneath this volcano is still a mystery to me, but I agreed to help Progenitor Nazrek with what he called a "personal project," and so here I am. Nazrek requested that I shape a series of tunnels between the base of the volcano and its caldera above, ones that are traversable, but still deadly to most organic life forms. And why am I down here in this heat? Because, he said, "you can't have heaven without hell." Next he wants me to shape a skull into the side of the mountain! I did not even bother asking the reason for that.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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My project is complete! This terraformer now successfully turns lava into gold, providing the primitive Moodies below with a divine metal for them to covet - and one that may be extremely difficult for them to obtain. This, along with the horrifying monstrosities below, should provide the Moodies with a rich, cultural mythology that will undoubtedly lead to thousands of their descendants perishing painfully as they attempt to reach the treasures that lie in the sacred heights of this cavern. Now... let the drama of Skullcano Island commence! Oh, I should have done this a long time ago...
The Moodies continue to amaze me. So primitive! Yet their twisted little bodies harbor such power!
That power will belong to me, I swear it!
To that end, there is the legend of Mog-Mog and his mask, which I drew forth painfully from a number of unfortunate Moodies before the tale was made whole.
Mog-Mog was a Moodie witch-doctor, and a powerful one at that. The little cretins revere him as if he were a god, and his power has grown with every retelling of his story...
Mog-Mog was said to control life and death like no other witch-doctor before or since. Between the gibbering and screams of the Moodies who revealed these fables to me, it sounds as if he lived and died many times over...
Unlike other mortals, death was an inconvenience to Mog-Mog... a momentary nuisance that he came to relish like a rich dessert. With each subsequent death and renewal, Mog-Mog's power grew. He drew this power from the darkness of the void, laughing in its face even as it clutched vainly at his fugitive soul.
But his luck did not last, and this led him to take an even greater risk in his search for immortality...
Surprisingly, death nearly claimed Mog-Mog. A beast - the Moodies know nothing of its origins, and even under the most stringent of agonies they refused to give it a name - sensed his power and sought him out as prey.
Mog-Mog accepted the thing's challenge. He sent his tribe to fight it, but they were effortlessly annihilated in waves by this greatest of foes.
Finally came Mog-Mog himself, his staff lifted in anger, the stuttering words of his primitive tongue voicing curses that would have sundered the spirit of a lesser being. But not this... thing... this enemy the Moodies fear even more than they fear me.
Once again, Mog-Mog died. His body was broken, his mask was cracked, and his soul was wracked and ravaged. It seemed the end had finally come for him...
Somehow - perhaps as a testament to his power - Mog-Mog returned from the grave. The thing had drained the witch-doctor's power, swallowing it thirstily, but some small amount had remained. Whether this was intended or accidental is not known, but Mog-Mog refused to look the proverbial equivar in the mouth.
It took years beyond counting for Mog-Mog to recover, which he did in secret. What remained of his tribe tended to him, offering their own pitiful souls to his endless psychic buffet. Eventually, his power returned, but ever did he fear the return of the black foe that had bested him and brought his reign to ruin.
In an act of desperation, Mog-Mog crafted a new mask to replace the one his enemy had cracked. He placed all of his fear, his ambition, and his power into this new mask, creating an artifact that would outlast him should the unthinkable come to pass. He would live on in this indestructible phylactery, which he intended would act as an eternal foil to his nameless enemy...
The creation of Mog-Mog's new mask was a drain on his power, and this is the folly that ultimately destroyed him. His tribe, hating his appetites yet frightened of earning his wrath, saw their chance to destroy their immortal master. His mask was hidden, his head was shrunken, and his people were free of him.
It is this mask - the Mask of Mog-Mog - that I have been seeking! I am certain it still contains his power. It waits for a new master to possess it... and who better than I, Laveka, to be that master?
My searching has brought me here, to this volcanic island, along with my allies.
Yes... even I need allies on occasion, though such pacts are temporary at best. The Redmoon Pirates, who now claim the Skullcano as their lair, have suffered me among their number in exchange for a whit of my power.
The Marauder captain - Mordechai Redmoon - believes that he controls me... what a laughable thought! He is a greedy fool whose only interest lies in physical wealth. The Mask of Mog-Mog, which has come into his possession, stolen from the Grim-Grim Moodies, is one of many trinkets he hoards in the sultry depths of this volcanic nest...
And now... it finally ends, for the Mask of Mog-Mog is mine!
With the Mask, I shall unlock the true potential of my own vast necromantic powers! Though I am arguably the most capable Necroshaman to grace this planet's surface, the Mask will make me all the more so. With it, nothing will stop me from achieving those goals that for so long have remained elusive... and all shall tremble in fear before Laveka!
As for those self-styled "heroes" who pursue me...? Mordechai will deal with them, as will his witless Marauders. And even if these scum succeed in destroying him, it will hardly matter. By then, I will be far from here...
...and the Mask of Mog-Mog will be with me!
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Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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This tar pit is the perfect location for my own experiments in augmentation technology. Although Vorion has successfully augmented living creatures, I am extremely interested in observing how the omni-plasmic nanites will respond to inanimate tissue. I'm certain the results will be monstrously fascinating.
Jariel: The Archon
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As a virtual construct, the Caretaker is unequaled in all of our history. Its advanced neural core simulates complex cognitive thought process and intuition, allowing it to closely monitor and maintain all of our experiments here on Nexus. We must ensure it never experiences a critical failure.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Our experiments here can be counted a success. It appears that the omni-plasmic nanites are sufficiently intelligent to reanimate and enhance the skeletal remains of long-dead organisms. As expected, these creatures are significantly less intelligent than their living counterparts, but they are still deadly... and pleasantly macabre.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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These massive skeletons belong to creatures that are no longer found on the planet's surface. Undoubtedly, they existed during the Project's first phase. Although their rise and subsequent extinction were inevitable, I still find it tragic that such magnificent beasts were not able to survive.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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It is easy to be mesmerized by the beauty of this place, by the natural wonders that surround us at every turn. But we must never forget exactly what we are trying to achieve here -and the inherent dangers that await us if indeed the Project is successful.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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As per the request of the Progenitors, I have installed a number of Matrix Amplifiers in this region. These devices should hyper-accelerate the physiological development of local creatures, increasing their size exponentially, but they might also have an interesting side effect. As the strength and density of the life matrix increases, the primal patterns of nearby organisms could hypothetically be imprinted as well - resulting in "spectral echoes" that would persist long after the organisms themselves had perished.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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I have much to consider. The Archon has mentioned that I may be one of the six vessels chosen for the creation of the Genesis Prime. Although I cannot deny a certain fear about the process itself, it is greatly outweighed by the anticipation of what might follow. Just think of what I... what we... could accomplish with such incomprehensible power. I would have no choice but to accept.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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These Megadroids, although relatively primitive, seem to have been engineered to survive even the most catastrophic damage. Take this one for example. It was destroyed centuries ago, but its archaically designed neural processor is still functioning at an almost imperceptible level - allowing it to influence or control less advanced machines. I suppose I should be impressed with their durability, but I can't look at these pathetic rusting hulks and feel anything but disgust and disdain.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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This spider represents a landmark in the development of Augmentation technology. I released an augmented organism into its lair, which it immediately attacked and then partially consumed. Within minutes, the nanites from the victim began augmenting the spider, reprogramming themselves based on the biological traits of their new host. Not unlike certain biological viruses, these nanites have, in effect, become immortal.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Much to my surprise, I recently discovered this tribe of humanoids living upon these arid wastes. An analysis of their physiology shows that they share numerous traits with Nazrek's humanoid template - although high levels of biological mutation within the group would seem to indicate that these individuals are descended from early, failed prototypes. I find them... piteous, in a way. Primitive, savage, and brutal, these Dregs have never known anything but rejection and pain.
I love you so very much, my queen.
I am no consort. I am no warrior. I am no hunter.
I am not even Aurin.
To you, I am no one.
I will love you from afar, drinking in your visage with eyes thirsty for your beauty.
When death takes me into its charnel embrace, I will continue to love you.
From beyond the grave, my adoration will swirl about you like ashes on the wind.
Do not fear me, my queen.
For I love you.
-Anonymous
Farming was a mistake.
Galeras is nice enough, sure, but between the high winds and the hostile wildlife, we would've been better off begging in the streets of Thayd.
The house is a mess. I'm no more a carpenter than I am a farmer. Just ask Myanna. As soon as I nail up a new board, the wind tears another one from the frame.
I've had enough of bloody fingers and windy nights!
* * *
Venan has been hearing sounds outside. Growls and grunts. It could be anything.
He and his mother look to me for reassurance... for protection. I may not know how to build a house, but I sure as sugar know how to protect my family.
I'm going out there.
* * *
Canimid! What in the Matria's name are they doing here? Sniffing around what's left of my crops, that's what! One of them spotted me and let out a roar that would've stripped the stones from a Gnoxian. My pistol shot didn't so much as annoy the beast!
We're heading down into the cellar now. There's little enough time to do anything else, and we can't run away from the canimid. They'll just chase us down and feast on us.
If you're reading this, we're either dead already, or we're trapped in our own cellar. Please help us, if you can! Don't let my wife and little boy die because I wasn't brave enough to fight those stinking canimid monsters!
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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In light of the imminent conclusion of the Nexus Project, I have requested that my name be taken off the list of potential vessels for the Genesis Prime. As I have been directly responsible for constructing the device that will make its creation possible, it seems illogical that anyone but myself should operate the device when the time comes. The Archon vehemently attempted to change my opinion, and told me repeatedly that I was the greatest mind in the history of my Order and thus deserving of the honor - but in the end, he could not disagree with the rationality of my argument.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Finally, my achievements have been recognized! Today the Archon asked me if I was interested in being one of the vessels for the Genesis Prime. Perhaps my opinion of him has been incorrect. He obviously recognizes that my intellect is considerably greater than the others in my Order - such as Vorion, for example. When I proceeded to tell him so, the Archon stood silently before me, and then walked away. Rendered speechless in the blinding light of my genius! I almost pitied the poor fool.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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This valley is truly a geological wonder, located in the shadow of these massive crystalline structures. Although it may sound ironic, I do find a certain peace here. Perhaps this is because it represents the strength and beauty of the natural world - at least as natural as can be expected here on Nexus.
Before coming here, I was informed by the Archon that I will not be one of the six - and it appears that none of my colleagues in the Order of the Shapers will be selected either. It may be inappropriate to say, but I have never been so relieved.
Bathior: Order of the Evokers
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I have just been informed by the Archon that my petition has been received and accepted. I will indeed be one of the six vessels for the Genesis Prime. Unfortunately, my second petition was soundly rejected. Given the obvious superiority of my Order, I thought it was only logical that all six of the vessels be Evokers. The Archon appeared to understand my position, but made it clear that such a radical deviation from the current plan was not possible.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Ah, these Falkrin! My dear AV-3s! Such things they have achieved in the centuries since I first engineered them. Who would have guessed that they would eventually construct such impressive cities, or would someday worship a winged god created by our own hands? Do they understand what has actually taken place here? And what would they think if they knew what was soon to come? I envy them. They still exist under the comfortable illusion that their lives represent more than a means to an end.
I accept the gift of the Masters. I, high priest of the Thundercall Pell, do holy work here in the world. The Masters look on in glory, and are proud of our efforts.
I alone among the Thundercall have seen its power. Its potential. The Masters left it for me to find, for the Thundercall to use, for the Chosen of the Storm to change.
To become a god!
But the gifts of the Masters are not without challenges. Tests. For this Great Work the faithful must do, we Disciples, before the Masters will allow us to rise to meet them.
The Masters call upon us to sacrifice his mortal life - and so it shall be. The greatest of us, one chosen by the Masters, shall become a god. And the wisest of us, the one called Blade-Wind, shall be the conduit that transforms the Chosen. Both shall end their mortal lives.
The power of the gods shall flow through Blade-Wind, and no other. Shaped, driven, bent to my will, the power shall infuse the Chosen, the Pell who will become a god. The Storm shall awaken within. And I, high priest of the Thundercall Pell, shall create a new god over which I shall be master!
I summon my chanters. I summon my acolytes! My sentinels, strong as the sky! Join me. Together we shall be true immortals. We will live forever in the wind, the stars, the lightning. We thrive in the thundering heart of the Stormtalon. We unleash this gift of the gods upon this world, and rejoice!
The Talon of Storms is but the first.
I, acolyte of the high priest, write these words.
-Stone-people - Resisted the lightning. Resisted the call of thunder. Did not resist headsman's axe.
-Humans - Consumed by primal power. No resistance. Cooked to death. Foul stench will never die.
-Gray Ones - Vile substance! Lightning burns away bone and flesh. Death follows.
-Forest-Stalkers - Touched by the power. Senses strong. Mind strong. Bodies not.
-Bird-Men - Too strong. Slaughtered many Thundercall. Destroyed by the high priest.
It is clear. Only Pell can use the Godmaker. The Masters give us the Godmaker to ready for their return. We must show them we are ready. The shell will be chosen. The god placed within. The glory will be all to the Masters.
Heed the words of the high priest,
greatest of those who call the thunder,
and stand in awe, for we beseech the Masters.
The gods of the heavens,
holy wings of unforgiving light,
the Masters of All.
The great Godmaker, gift of the Masters,
awaits one worthy of the power of wind and sky.
Disciples of Air, one called by the Thunder,
one who to embrace great power,
and sacrifice in pain.
Godmaker, heed us. Godmaker, forgive us. Godmaker, guide us.
Stormtalon tears the sky. Stormtalon fears no god.
Stormtalon knows no Master but the Invoker.
What is sacrificed in pain
Is visited a thousandfold upon the chosen,
for Stormtalon awakens.
Congratulations on installing this multispecies health services station! We at The Institute for Multispecies Health Services know that you have a choice when it comes to finding remote health care on the perilous worlds of the Fringe, and appreciate your choosing the IMHS. IMHS Stations provide the absolute minimum in health services for over eighty-eight percent of known sapient species - and it shows.
Before using this multispecies health services station, please observe these simple safety precautions:
1. Aim away from face, unless face was involved in injury or illness.
2. Please allow a short time for recharging between health services.
3. If health services station appears to be missing, please build a new one using available parts and tools.
4. Do not accept compliments or sign binding legal agreements with the IMHS Station AI. This behavior is a known bug and will be removed in the next version of the software.
5. Do not submerge health services station.
6. If you are a sapient species not covered by the IMHS organization's database, we apologize for your impending permanent injury or potential demise.
NOTES
(Please use this page for notes.)
Might as well - got nothin' else to write on. If you've found this, you still have a chance. Thought this was another old Eldan ruin, but turns out there's a whole lotta ugly folk - some air Pell tribe - what are lookin' to make themselves their own god. And I reckon they might just pull it off. They got a whole complicated plan they been workin' on real good now for who knows how long, and even a feller like me can see there's a shipload of power headin' deep into the caverns up ahead.
Of course, that ain't gonna help me none. Managed to make it up onto this here shelf, seems safe from the blasted Pell for now. No mistake, though, they messed me up but good. Never shoulda tried to stop 'em. The health station's done what it could, but no health station in the galaxy can grow a feller's foot back. Even if I could get back down there, reckon they'd tear me to pieces before I could start to hoppin' at their general direction.
The Pell won't know a health station manual from a hole in the Halon Ring, so before I gasp my last, know that the health station's just in dormant mode. Conservin' power, building up its supply of medicines and such. Too late for me, but even if ya ain't familiar with such things ya oughta be able to figure it out.
No need to worry about my bones, either. Ya made it this far, ya got more important things to worry about. Hell, cave critters probably already made off with 'em anyhow.
Give 'em hell, whoever ya are.
- Andred Buckstone, Explorers Union
It's amazing down here in the Exo-Lab! Nothing works, but you can look at the machines and imagine what it must've been like for the Eldan all those years ago.
* * *
I've managed to get the power back online. There are several Eldan constructs here, all of them damaged. There is one in particular that I may be able to reactivate. I'll have to try.
* * *
I can't understand it all, but according to the data in the damaged bot's memory core, it's an Eldan Augmentor. The possibilities are boundless! When Sue finds out about this... but no! I must keep it a surprise, at least until it's functional.
(later)
Sue is so curious about what I'm doing in here. Her interests have always been with the Eldan augmentation process, and I can hardly blame her. Improving a creature with these methods could have valuable applications, both commercially and militarily.
My work restoring the bot is almost done.
* * *
The bot is active! I'm going to send it out into the field tonight to test its functionality. I'll have it augment some of the local fauna, then bring back a test subject... maybe a canimid.
* * *
The augmetics are amazing! The canimid test subject has been completely augmented by the bot with no adverse side effects or implant rejection.
Though it seems dangerous, the next phase of my experiment will be a bit more personal. I'm going to augment myself. I won't do anything drastic, just minor augmentations at first. Sue's in the field gathering data. She'll be so surprised when she gets back!
(later)
It would have been foolish to stop with just one augmentation. Now I can see more clearly and move more quickly. I am stronger of limb and faster of mind. How could I have been such a fool? I should have taken this route long ago. There is so much to do if I'm going to make up for lost time.
I will send the Augmentor to begin the personnel integration tonight. When Sue returns, I'll give her this gift, as well. She will no longer need to study augmentation. She will understand it too intimately for such banalities.
RESCUE PROTOCOLS IN EFFECT
Listen up, mercs! We got a whole shuttle of Exiles in trouble. You're the folks who get to hit the drop pods and save their sorry butts. Most of the passengers in that ship were humans and Aurin, and most of them are civilians, so don't expect much help when you arrive. Keep an eye out for anyone with real combat training - I do see more than a few on the passenger manifest. Someone like that might be a big help dealing with the unexpected.
You heard me, soldiers. We don't know much about this region at all, except the Dominion doesn't seem to want it - most likely because it's damn near frozen solid. But the eggheads say they got some mighty interesting scans from underneath the ice. Might be Eldan - and it might be worth checking out. Any advantage we can get against the Dommies is an advantage I want.
One more thing. Looks like Deadeye Brightland was on this ship. Now he and me don't always see eye to eye, but he's one of those people to watch for. Not a bad fighter to have in your corner, and he's managed to stay alive in some pretty nasty situations. Of course, he's brought some pretty little wife along to Nexus, so he might not be that interested in getting into too many scrapes. But if the survivors are going to make it, we all got to pull together. Like always.
Fleet's prepping a rescue shuttle right now. When they depart, I'll send the signal to light the landing flares. Stay frosty, mercs.
Stonebreaker
BOARDING PASS 48XK32B
PASSENGER 1: Sadie Brightland - Seat 12A
PASSENGER 2: Aron Brightland, A.K.A. Deadeye - Seat 12B
DEPARTED FROM: Arkship Gambler's Ruin
DESTINATION: Gallow Spaceport, Algoroc
NOTES: Peacekeeper records may indicate Aron "Deadeye" Brightland is a wanted criminal within the fleet and in several star systems. These records are in error and are to be updated.
By order of the Admiral of the Exile Fleet, Aron "Deadeye" Brightland is hereby granted a full pardon for any and all crimes against the Exile Accords. He is now free to own and carry firearms and other potential contraband on his person. His status as a free sapient and the similar status of his spouse Sadie Brightland shall not be questioned. In the latter case, all previous employment records for Sadie Brightland née Angelthorn are sealed by order of Avra Darkos.
This ticket is non-transferrable, non-refundable, and non-toxic. Thank you for flying with Exile Shuttle Lines.
[Ice and snow have obliterated the date and first few lines of this journal. The following words are still legible.]
...and at last, we'll realize the dream that has kept us going these many years, months, and days: Nexus! A new home beyond the Fringe! Never thought I'd see the day that Nellie, me, and little Tyka would have a real home of our own with a garden, a roan or two out back, a good dog, maybe a used bot to help us with the chores. A lifetime spent on those cold, leaky rustbuckets is too long. Now Tyka will get to grow up on a real world with a sky over her head and ground beneath her feet.
And to think we wouldn't even be here if Nellie's mother hadn't been lost in that mysterious engine explosion. I'd never wish such a dire and terrible thing to happen to my beloved bride ever again, but I have to admit - the little inheritance her mother had set by is the only reason we were even able to do this. We managed to scrape together just enough to pay the Protostar real estate man for a nice little plot on the ground. Not one of their fancy floating houses, that's just the sort of thing little Tyka would plumb walk right off. Sure, we spent all we had on the deed, and I'll have to take a few extra jobs here and there to get by at first, but the little green man promised us Nexus is the planet of new beginnings and prosperous lives. And who can argue with that?
And now here we are on board. We just departed the launch bay, and I've been given permission to head to the forward cabin to grab us a few refreshments. I'm leaving Nellie and Tyka all buckled in to their seats, and I'll be back in two shakes. Nothing could possibly stop our dreams now!
Northern Wilds Expedition X-Minus 37 Minutes
Got time to jot down some notes while that big... Whatever-It-Is lumbers on past. Hope I ain't gotta deal with one of them long-haired giants anytime soon.
So Brightland's got the survivors at the crash site under control, much as anyone can. Callin' his little crash site camp "Settler's Reach." Funny, true, and pretty damned sad. That may be as far as them settlers reached this time, but me and my team of science-types aim to see them on to Tremor Ridge, or Gallow, or wherever the hell they aim to go. So while Brightland keeps his one good eye on the flock, we aim to check out our surroundings, see what we can find out.
Saw some funny-lookin' tracks up near the ridgeline. Somethin' light-footed, on two legs, what ain't yetis. And there's a lot of 'em. Could swear I hear some kind of shoutin' going on up in the hills. Yappin' like heynar, but communicatin' like Aurin hunters on the stalk.
Gonna see if I can't get a closer look and send the others on ahead. Almost regretting leaving without a weapon, but it's more important to document my findin's and these here voice-to-text data tablets are heavier than I'd like. Speaking of which, I need to shed some baggage, so I'm stashing these initial notes here. I'll pick 'em up on the way back. If you're readin' this, and you ain't me, leave it here, would you?
Northern Wilds Expedition X-Minus 123 Minutes
Them yetis and the rootbrutes were a might tougher to deal with than I expected. The rootbrutes come by the name honest-like - they got roots what'll brutalize you. See, a rootbrute looks like your typical space mushroom, right? Everybody's seen them big, mutated, vacuum-resistant funguses on asteroids and suchlike, feeding off the nutrients in the metal. Now imagine them giant space-shrooms gettin' up, walkin' around, and flingin' clots of poison sludge at ya. And as if that wasn't enough, if you stand in one place for too damned long them roots of theirs'll crawl through the dirt to come pokin' up at ya where the stars don't shine!
They got a long reach, is what I'm sayin', and when ya gotta fight 'em, and ya will, it's best to stay light on your feet.
Lotta yetis in these here parts. No tellin' how they got to Nexus, but I seen big furry bipedal beasts just like 'em on damn near every ice planet this side of the Core. Wonder how they wound up here? Eldan, I suppose. Or maybe just convergent evolution. I seen stranger things, and this Nexus variety is bigger and meaner'n most.
No point negotiating with yeti. I ain't hearing any kind of language that'll translate. Best to just take 'em out if they come at you.
Spottin' more and more of them little biped tracks as I go. Must be approaching an encampment or village or some such. Saw what looked like a little blue man with big eyes in the woods a short spell ago, but he plumb vanished soon as he saw I'd seen 'im. Then more of that damned yappin'.
Startin' to reckon I might not be the one to pick up these journals after all, but I gotta keep pressin' on. Still wish I had more to fight with than this utility knife. So if you're readin' this, and ya ain't me, a word of advice: if ya got a weapon, draw it.
Northern Wilds Expedition X-Minus 212 Minutes
They got the others, my people what went on ahead. Got me, too, but I reckon I can just about toss this journal clear of the cauldron if'n I can keep it outta this soup. Amazin' what a human body can withstand when injected with enough emergency pain medication. I mighta failed to bring a weapon, but by stars, I remembered plenty'a medishots. And it's gettin' pretty hot in this here cauldron already, I don't mind admittin'.
So, real quick-like. The little blue bastards are Skeech, near as I can tell. Hell, it's all they ever say. They're a damned sight smarter than they look, too. This valley's theirs, and they know it like the backs'a their scrubby little hands. They were corrallin' us the whole damned time, makin' us think they weren't payin' us no heed at all while they kept us movin' toward this stinkin' cave. And I mean that literally. This stew pot they got me in is right up next to this nasty-smellin' hole in the ground what looks to serve as their real home.
Yeah, reckon this here might just be the last entry I imagine I'll be making in this journal, but so be it. I had a good run. Seen things no other Exile has, from the glittering star whales of Cetacea 6 to the Blasted Foundries to Nexus its own damned self, and I got no regrets. Except the fact them damned Skeech already cut off my throwin' arm and have it roastin' over a spit. That surely does hurt, no matter how many medishots I dump into my system.
One last thing, assumin' you're an Exile sent to find me. I think my team's still alive in that cave. Saw them Skeech haulin' some suspicious-lookin' bags into the caves, and them bags were kickin' and screamin' to beat all. If ya can help 'em, consider it the fulfillment of a dyin' man's last wish.
Yeah, that's gettin' hot. Ow. Ow. Crap. Ow. This is Lusk, signin' off. Give 'em hell, Exile.
"Skeech Skeech Skeech eat SKEECH Skeech Skeech"
by Skeech
Skeech Skeech Skeech SKEECH SKEech bite Skeech!
SKEECH SKEECH Skeech cook SKEECHSkeech skeECH,
SKEech SkeechSkeech Skeech eat SkeechSKEECH.
SKEECHSkeech Skeech Skeech kill Skeech Skeech
SKEECH SKEECH SKEEECHSkeech KILL SKEECH Skeech!
Skeech Skeech Skeech SkeechSKEECH kill Skeech,
SkeechSkeech eat SKEECH SKEECH SkeechSKEECH,
SKEECH SKEECH SKEECH SKEECH SKEECH kill SKEECH!
SKEECHSkeech Skeech bite Skeech Skeech SKEECH
SKEECH SkeechSKEECH spirit Skeech SKEECH SKEECH!
Skeech Skeech Skeech
SkeechSkeech Skeech Skeech Skeech
Skeech Skeech Skeech
Skeech SKEECH Skeech Skeech Skeech
Skeech hate Skeech kill Skeech eat Skeech Skeech SKEECH!
Mine 17J-24 Production Analysis
Shipment 122: PASSED with 99.92% purity rating.
Shipment 123: PASSED with 99.6% purity rating.
Shipment 124: PASSED with exceptions:
Minor variations in quality found. Estimated 92.6% purity rating.
Shipment 125: PASSED with exceptions: Increased variation and reduced quality. Minebot recalibration recommended. Estimated 85.33% purity rating. Approaching minimum acceptable levels.
Shipment REJECTED with 74.95% purity rating. Minebot recalibration ineffective. Direct inspection of Mine 17J-24 requested.
ADDITIONAL: Multiple minebots are missing entirely from their assigned drill sites. Suspect corporate espionage, industrial sabotage, or corporate industrial sabotage via espionage in the form of a bot virus. These disappearances appear to be contagious.
RECOMMENDATION: If quality continues to decline and minebots continue to disappear, recommend sealing Mine 17J-24 with Protostar-brand Demolition Explosives without evacuating minebots. The additional benefit of destroying potentially infected minebots would reduce expected losses on Mine 17J-24 by a considerable amount.
If this report is found, please return to the nearest Protostar Corporation representative.
Thanks... from Protostar!
Now hear of an Eeklu from Bleez,
Whose ship now speaks pure augment-ese.
The spindrive, he said,
Had grown a new head,
Complete with new neuroses.
There once were an oghra from Stortz,
With flubberjits made o' pure quartz.
When 'e bangs 'em together,
They make crazy weather,
And there's a blizzard whenever he glorts.
A randy ol' spacehand named Ditter,
Kept all the space ladies a-twitter.
He'd load up their cargo,
But romance embargo,
Because Ditter was still getting out of a really complicated relationship.
[The remaining pages are missing, but you've read enough to learn that the title is not entirely accurate.]
Projekto Skyhammer alproksimigas finajon! Kaj la Exile suspektas nenion, kvankam ilia sorto estas proksima! Sed kvankam mi estas nura gloating pri tiu fakto kiel estas guste kaj tauga, mi lasos ci peze cifrita dosiero en la tuneloj en grava aspekto loko por konfuzi ajna malsaga interlopers kiuj provas lerni la sekretojn de ci DREDplex.
Ili kredas ke tiu estas kodita mesago por la imperiestro - kvazau li estus koncernis - kaj uzas tiun specialan sub-dialekto de antikvaj Bezgelorian konfuzi tiujn interlopers kaj Mi faros ilin malspari tempon tradukante ci relative sensignifa teksto dum la horlogo daure tik, tik, tak for! Jes, faru vian bona, malsaga Exile. Se vi legas ci tion, estas bona por vi. Vi figured it out! Sed vi faris gin gustatempe? Mi suspektas ke ne. Kaj nun estas momento por morti morti die!
Via amiko, Mondo Zax
Vol. 7: So You've Crashed Your Ship
Congratulations! If you're reading this, you've survived a no-doubt traumatizing starship crash of some kind. And if you've survived, that means other Protostar employees or passengers might also have survived. Remember: your first priority is to ensure these survivors meet their obligations to the Protostar Corporation, so make sure to collect all pertinent tickets and/or employee identification tags before proceeding.
Have all the remaining survivors within your immediate vicinity paid up or expired? Good! Now to explore your current situation. If your ship is still spaceworthy, press 1. If your ship is not spaceworthy, but still repairable, press 2. If your ship is neither spaceworthy nor repairable, please trigger all intact emergency beacons, mark all remaining cargo or other Protostar assets, and then see the recommended self-termination procedures in Vol. 8: So You've Outlived Your Usefulness.
Congratulations! You've selected option 1: Spaceworthy! Please trigger all available emergency beacons. You are now authorized to transmit petty cash payments to any independent contractors required to return your vessel to space, up to and including the value of your cargo. Note that these payments will be deducted from your hazard pay. If you have no hazard pay, they will be deducted from your regular pay. If you are not a paid Protostar employee, please see Vol. 8.
By order of Judge Kain and the Exile Judiciary, any and all members of the criminal organization calling itself the Darkspur Cartel are hereby considered WANTED for crimes against the Exile Accords.
These crimes include multiple counts of murder, slave trading, extortion, racketeering, kidnapping, blackmail, smuggling, bootlegging, production of banned narcotics, and conspiracy to commit all of the above. These charges stand against any member of this organization at any rank.
FORCE AUTHORIZATION
The Darkspur Cartel is a Class 1 criminal syndicate with operations spanning the galaxy. In the event the suspected Darkspur Cartel member resists arrest, the law officer in possession of this warrant is hereby ordered and expected to end negotiations and immediately employ deadly force as soon as possible.
Executions are expected.
Judge Kain
Martin Goldcastle first suggested the name, and it was for dark reasons the first Exile settlers in Algoroc - well, the first who weren't here strictly to mine the place dry - called their new home Gallow. For like any group of people, there were good among the new settlers, and a few of the bad as well. In the case of Gallow's founding, the bad were pretty bad indeed, and it meant the good folk who wanted to live here had to build a gallows before they even built the first home alongside the dusty thoroughfare.
We didn't even have a peacekeeper in town then, which made folk vulnerable to the worst kind of instincts humans got. The worst of the lot was a fellow name of Crowe and his family full of ne'er-do-wells and murderous thugs. Old Pappy Crowe had raised all his children mean and nasty, turning them into more a gang than a family. Eventually, all you had to do to earn the name "Crowe" was do something wicked on Pappy's orders.
So, expecting trouble, the town founders rounded up all the Crowes in town and told them they should take their business elsewhere. Naturally, this didn't go over so well, and Pappy sent two of his biggest - Alf Crowe and his bigger brother Ugor - to burn down the tents and temporary structures that made up the as-yet-unnamed settlement. But the people of this new settlement were still Exiles, and Exiles fight for what's theirs, whether it's a three-hundred-year-old starship or a spot of dirt on a distant planet they aim to call home. The settlers caught Alf and Ugor in the act and built the first permanent structure in town: the gallows what gave the place its name.
Pappy Crowe didn't like it much, but the folk of Gallow - as it was now called - had made their point. Pappy took his family up to the hills and stayed mostly out of town business. Folk here don't want any trouble with slush, that nasty drink what the Crowes seem to specialize in, and the Crowes are keeping to themselves. Some say they've made contact with another criminal group, others that the Crowes are just making so much gold selling their foul brew offworld that they just ain't got time to bother with Gallow anymore. And a lot of folk say Pappy's running with the Krogg now and the Darkspur Cartel's the ones really pulling the strings. We'll just see about that.
If you ask this chronicler, this is a situation what can't hold. Pappy Crowe's always been one to hold a grudge, and he's had plenty of time to nurse this one. As I write this, a lot of folk are saying that our new peacekeeper can't show up soon enough. This chronicler tends to agree.
[This piece of paper appears to depict the layout of the slave camp and its location relative to nearby Exile settlements, including Gallow. You can see a simple note in one corner scrawled in what appears to be a mixture of blood, dirt, and charcoal. Considering the medium employed, the stilted grammar is understandable.]
Taken in night. Grims hunting us. All in Gallow - danger. Big operation. Darkspur connected. Saw Krogg.
So far, Grims making us work Algoroc. No one sent offworld. Yet. Big cages. Big ships coming, they said. Going to space mines. Don't care if we hear. They want our spirits broken. They don't know Exiles!
Getting dizzy. Blood loss. If you find this, send for help. Don't be a hero if you can't handle a fight. You'll just end up a slave. But if you can... save us!
8:00 Nexus Mean Time
Network 24
ALL THE THINGS with BUNGZ and BINGZ
A stinky situation arises when Bezgelor's most famous explorer siblings visit the burning lava fields of Mikros in mostly flameproof suits. Is it just burning hair, or did Bingz break his promise to give up eating Grumpel food?
BUNGZ.....Himself
BINGZ.....Himself
CLANLORD GRUVAK.....Gruvak Foolslayer
THE MIKROS MAGMA MONSTER.....Hylav Ponterius
Directed by Axis Pentax
9:00 Nexus Mean Time
Network 49
FACE-OFF/FACE-ON
Host Brock Masterton welcomes Doctor Mikhal Kuhlhart of the Grismaran Revival League, an organization that wants Mordesh everywhere to stop living with the Contagion and let themselves die out; and Doctor Victor Lazarin, the infamous creator of both the Everlife Elixir and the Vitalus Serum, who has spent, in his words, "every waking moment" seeking a cure. Will they come to blows? Tune in to find out!
BRONK MASTERTRON'S HAIR.....Henrad Smithwick
DOCTOR KUHLHART.....Himself
DOCTOR VICTOR LAZARIN.....Himself (hologram only)
10:00 Nexus Mean Time
Network 13
THE NIGHT ZONE
Hosted by Dorian Walker
The most famous explorer in the history of the Exile Fleet - the pathfinder who found the planet Nexus - invites you to join him on a terrifying journey into THE NIGHT ZONE, a new horror anthology for Network 13 Studios! True, Walker's only connection to these stories is the large stipend Network 13 Studios is paying him to read the narration, but don't let that reality dim the warm glow of wonder that strikes when you see his grizzled visage fill up YOUR holoscreen. That's THE NIGHT ZONE with DORIAN WALKER, only on Network 13!
DORIAN WALKER...Himself, Allegedly
JAUNSON.....Grent Weatherford
JONSUN.....Jara Starward
THE ELDAN GHOST.....Zalko Ivyneck
Krogguary 7
This town is a joke. One peacekeeper to deal with the strongest arm of that blasted Darkspur Cartel? I couldn't have found an easier place to roll. Of course, it's all just another way to get rich if I don't manage to get Kain's attention this time. That damned Granok owes me another fight. No one locks up Morek Throg without giving him a chance to fight back. Judge Kain was a damned coward, using my own people against me.
Well, guess what, high and might Judge Kain? You locked me up, but I broke out, stronger than ever. And this place? This planet? You idiots think it's some safe, happy paradise. You didn't dig too deep at all, did you? There's a lot more than valuable rocks and easy-to-grab slaves here in Algoroc. And I'm going to be the Krogg to find it, take it, and use it to carve out my own little empire on this stars-forsaken planet.
The best part? Kain won't be able to resist when these whining losers cry for help. He won't wait a minute. And when he shows up, I'll be ready.
MT
Kroggust 31
So we got us another little justice-loving do-gooder in town, eh? All the better. Me and my boys already gave the judge what he had coming to him. His justices are in pieces and Kain's bleeding out on the mountainside. This new idiot will give us a chance for some target practice. Never expected that son of a fulgurite to go down so easy.
Of course, this newcomer thinks the judge can be saved, I hear. That's a laugh. Between my Grim slavers tearing down the forests or the Crowes making a fortune off the slush, it'd take an army of Kains to stop me now. Gallow's as good as mine!
MT
Kroggtober 2
So it seems my plans might've been a little premature. A smart boss learns when to recognize he made a bad call and cop to it, and maybe I made a few. Never saw that whole thing with the botsmith and the robot arm for Kain. My spybots snapped some holoshots, and the bastard looks pretty badass, if I do say so myself. Too bad he's got his rocks set on justice more'n ever, 'cause I could use a guy like him to deal with other guys like him.
Take that no-good busybody who saved the judge, for example. If I could turn Kain against that useless piece of crap....
Eh, no helping it now. Can't go back to the Cartel bosses empty-handed, and the Exiles are getting too thick out here. Can't do business like a Krogg should. That means collecting a bounty. I got the rest of my boys lined up to take out Kain and any do-gooders who want to help him, and I've left clues to this location obvious enough even for a Granok. Shouldn't be long now until I get my final payback against hizzoner.
MT
READ BEFORE CONSUMPTION
"Old Pappy Crowe" Barrel-Aged Slush
Illegally distilled, aged, stored, and sold in Algoroc, Nexus
Since 1659
A WARNING FROM THE DISTILLER
Hello, drunkard. Your ol' Pappy here. Now, assumin' you're still sober enough to read this, please take a moment to skim this label before you consume this deliciously intoxicatin' and potentially toxic beverage. I'm happy to get you blasted outta your ever-lovin' gourd, but let's make sure you're still breathin' the next day so's you can buy yourself another bottle of "Old Pappy."
Now first, and this is important, I absolutely recommend you do not drink this. I mean it. If you drink this, two things are gonna happen: you will become addicted to slush. That's great for me, but after decades in this business, I gotta tell ya, I sleep better at night tellin' ya that up front. Don't mean most of ya won't drink it anyway. Ain't like folk don't know slush is even more addictive than starbacco. So go ahead. Welcome to the family!
Second, and I know I'm taking up a lot of label space here, you'll go more or less completely insane. Now that's good when it comes to my boys. I can use a little crazy out there keepin' folk from diggin' into my business. But if you go and open a barrel of Ol' Pappy and expect anything but pain, heartache, insanity, and random murders, you're expectin' too much.
Now that's outta the way, here's to ya! Raise a glass to your Ol' Pappy, and drink responsible-like. You'll be glad ya did, or you'll be dead. Either way, Old Pappy gets paid!
Ultra-Grow-Infused Pre-Fertilized Plant Pots by Protostar Gardens Division - OUT OF STOCK
"Old Pappy Crowe" Barrel-Aged Slush - DISCONTINUED
Protostar-brand Plushie Chow and Desensitizing Face Lotion - RECALLED
Protostar-brand Dermatological Rock Polish for Gronyx - POTENTIALLY FATAL TYPO
The Elder Cube - PROBABLE MYTH
Stormtalon Creme Eggs (6) - PRODUCT UNDER INVESTIGATION
FCON-XAS JOINT OP: Operation Bigbot
FIELD CONTACT: Doctor Belle Walker, XAS
This one oughtta be fun. We got an actual, factual Eldan Annihilator gone crazy not too far from the town of Gallow in Algoroc. Damned thing's blasting its eye beams all over the surrounding area, including an XAS camp FCON's been assigned to protect. See, this gigantic Eldan bot - sorry, "construct," the eggheads get all fractured when I call them bots - looks to be part of a bigger complex. An exo-lab. And Doctor Walker says it looks like Exo-Lab 22, whatever the hell that means. Could be Exo-Lab Rowzdower for all I care. Just make sure those scientists make it back in one piece.
A quick threat assessment doesn't turn up anything you haven't been trained to handle: burrowing critters called canimid and Eldan constructs (but they blow up just like ordinary bots.) The main enemy to worry about is that Annihilator. Get some shields on the XAS site, or get them to call that whole thing off and let me blast the site from orbit. That'll be sure to put that monster back in its cage.
Stonebreaker
Annihilate My Central Lubrication Pump
A Poem by Freebot Transista
Annihilate my central lubrication pump,
Eye-blast the hurt and pain from my faulty limb sockets,
Emerge from the malfunctioning bay doors of my cerebral processors,
My one, my zero, my Annihilator
Dearest, if you will not be my central hub,
If you will not join networks with newly awakened sentient mind,
If you will not annihilate my central lubrication pump,
Then you surely will deactivate me to be kind.
You do not hear me, my love, my giant,
You cannot see me through red and burning eyes,
So please take my soul, my mind, my life,
And Annihilate what my heart still denies.
Anton Lusk's Journal - 22 Days Since Landfall
Been some time since my brother Denton and I went to our respective shuttles, and his was shot down over the Northern Wilds. I doubt I'll ever see my brother alive again, but that don't mean at least one Lusk ain't going to live to tell a few tales about Nexus. No need to be picky about which one. So Den, these findings are done in your honor.
Speakin' of which, I got somethin' damned interestin' to report. There's somethin' on this planet that might just remember a bit more of its history than those creepy Pell or those pugnacious bird-men out Galeras-way. Calls itself a "Caretaker," a holographic AI the Eldan themselves built into a network that covers the whole planet. That's what he tells me, anyhow. Hard to tell how much of it's truth, because he's also gone a bit computer-bonkers, if ya ask me. One second he's threatening me with annihilation because I'm threatenin' "The Project," whatever that is, and the next he's calmly offerin' to help me open them doors over yonder. Which I think he's gonna do right about... now. Back with ya in a moment, voice journal.
Yes. Yes, that's... better. Much. Better. Blood... sees. Red in the sky. Death. Death to all intruders. Project. Protect. Keep. Safe. Proj... pro... gah...
[remaining data untranslatable]
DEPLOYMENT ORDERS
FIELD COMMAND: Sgt. Kara
Your orders, mercs, are simple. The Dominion's trying to take out Thayd, one of our strongest and best-defended strongholds on this planet. Sure, it's not much more than military camps and old walls right now, but the techs tell me those walls have stood for thousands of years, and I want them standing for thousands more... or as long as there are Exiles in need of sanctuary on this planet, whichever comes first.
I'm leaving Sgt. Kara in charge of the details and specific deployments on the ground. Report to her upon your arrival. And if I hear from her that any of you rockheads is getting outta line, you're gonna regret it.
-- Commander Durek
By "Matria Greenbloom"
Why do I write under a false name? Why indeed? Could it be because there is still so much conflict among our people, so long after we made the choice to abandon our homeworld? After SHE made the decision for us all?
And who asked our young queen to make that call for every last Aurin on Arboria? Was it you? Was it me? What about her own consort, Arwick Redleaf? Is it not common knowledge that her own knight would have chosen to stay and fight rather than turn tail and run for the stars? For this place?
And what is this place? Can it ever truly be Arboria? How can one even ask such a question? How could any Aurin, no matter how much pressure she had to endure, say such a thing? Yet did not our own queen do so upon setting foot on this world? Is not Nexus to be our "New Arboria"?
And who is this Queen Myala? Is she to be trusted? Could she not be an agent of the very enemy who even now devastates our world? Our true world? And who am I? Am I truly a matria?
Is that even important? For right now, I am but an Aurin with questions... and precious few answers.
-- "Matria Greenbloom"
A MESSAGE FROM THE CEO'S DESK
Greetings from Phineas T. Rotostar!
As you know, we here at Protostar place a special emphasis on real estate properties when it comes to the planet Nexus. After all, just about everyone wants their own little slice of home here on this wondrous world, and the Protostar Corporation is in the business of making those slices reasonably affordable, marginally safe, and relatively available!
That's why it's with demonstrable sadness that I must inform you that we have filed foreclosure proceedings against SERGEANT KARA OF FCON, the contractually obligated owner of the property designated WINDSPIRE VIGIL. If you or someone you love are SERGEANT KARA OF FCON or you are a sentient being who knows of his or her current whereabouts, you are encouraged to contact your nearest Protostar Housing Agent today to report what you know... for money!
Even if you don't know anything about this situation, your nearest Protostar Housing Agent can set YOU up with the home of your dreams! Why not consider your own little slice of home on the ground, in the sky, or perhaps even in orbit! With Protostar, literally ANYthing* is possible!
Yours in profitability,
-- PT Rotostar
*"Literally ANYthing" does not legally include literally anything. See your Protostar Housing Agent for further details.
Until further notice, the Crimson Legion is requested and required to take Exile prisoners of war whenever possible for transfer to the Imperial Corps of Intelligence. Certain non-Exile species are also part of this mandate, and prize payments are available for documented captures. Be on the lookout for the following varieties of sentient being:
Granok
Exile Humans
Aurin
Mordesh
Lopp
Eeklu
Krogg
Grund
Oghra
Freebots
Galeras deployment Day 19.
Don't care about prize money anymore. Had it, had it, had it! Putting in for transfer, immediately. Don't understand Collegium fascination with whimfiber. No good for explosions. Maybe useful as battlefield hazard? Gets into every component of every machine on base, gums up gears, fries circuits. Even reliable Chua machinery needs maintenance. Mechanical nightmare!
Other unwanted side effects, also. Breathing whimfiber particles highly unpleasant - red eyes, stuffed nostrils, significant repertory distress. Engineers handle dangerous materials. Sneezing and coughing fits unacceptable complication!
When transfer request complete, will also mention business with Nox and Voski. Strange to see good comrades turn bad so quickly. Recommend intervention by a superior officer to avoid further infighting - or catastrophic misuse of Dominion munitions!
Galeras Deployment Day 20.
Somebody's been in the ammo stores, and I damned well know who it is. That Draken cur Voski has had it in for me for months, and I'm certain he's thieving from our extremely limited supplies. One of barbarian race might be using imperial property to sponsor his personal hunting expeditions. I would not put it past someone like him.
And what better way to cast aspersions on my own performance? After all, a mere arms officer is little more than a quartermaster with a clip board. A cannoneer such as myself is responsible for maintaining and firing the largest manually operated weapons in the entire Dominion arsenal! If just one thing goes amiss, it could mean disaster. And that sneaky Draken pig knows precisely what kind of trouble to cause.
Mark my words, this will not end well... for him.
Galeras Deployment Day 21.
Something bloody strange is in the air around here. Maybe it's just a side effect of this whimfiber. When I scan the stuff, I pick up some residual kind of energy that the human eye has trouble seeing. It's got to be due to the heightened primal energy in this place. The Focus of Air charges everything with it. Some Cassians appear to possess a sort of allergy to it that makes them aggressive and irritable, but my equipment isn't sensitive enough to pinpoint exactly how it affects the nervous system. I suspect it's causing a lot of trouble among some of the officers, because the number of soldiers coming through my tent with black eyes and cracked ribs has risen by three hundred percent since we've been stationed here.
It's not that unusual for troops on base to get into a scuffle now and then, but this seems like an unusual increase. I need more data. I've asked any officers who witness such issues - or who are feeling increased irritability or aggression themselves - to report the details to me immediately.
Galeras Deployment Day 22.
They should not have pushed me. I knew it was them. Making the noise. The buzzing, the screaming, the weeping. Gods, the screaming. Such agony, where never there should have been pain. Such darkness, where only light was meant to strike.
And the humming. But now... where is it? I thought it was inside them. I broke them, broke them open. The answer is me. The sound escaped. I still hear it. The humming, the buzzing.
It is in me now. It is me now. And there is nothing left to break that will make it stop. Nothing but one thing. Only one way. One way to end it. The buzzing. It's in the air, all the time, everywhere.
It stops now.
Expedition Day 7
Gale Canyon has proven to be a downright wondrous site for research! Despite the presumably significant age of Nexus, naturally occurring fissures such as this one are surprisingly rare. Indeed, planetwide scans indicate a significantly younger geographic age for the planet than is typical for a planet orbiting a wild trinary star system.
Such worlds are by definition "beyond the Fringe" and are usually captured rogues from another galaxy or systems so ancient they've nearly escaped the gravity of the galactic core itself. Worlds that are sometimes tens of billions of standard years old.
But Nexus? No way. How did a species like the Eldan find time to even evolve here?
By Junior Xenosociologist Branchgood
Draft 1. Not for publication.
The Thundercall tribe of the Pell have shown me their ways, and I reckon they're just about the friendliest darned tribe I ever did meet! Why, they didn't even try to cast any of their crazy curses on me, like they do with some folk. No, sirree, they plumb welcomed me into their village like I was one of 'em!
Though I'm sure glad I ain't. One of 'em, I mean. Them suckers are friendly, but whooooeee! They are some ugly sons of guns, I tell you what!
Anyhoo, I'm just packing up a few pieces of gear, because guess what? They invited me to LIVE AMONGST 'EM for a while! Just think of what I'm gonna learn from these folks! They've been on Nexus as long as anyone can remember, includin' them. And I'm basically gonna become an honorary Thundercall Pell, JUST LIKE THAT. Ain't it cool? I sure think so.
Well, they're gettin' all chanty out there, so I'll just leave this voice log in the tent, just in case. Don't wanna get it fried by the Focus of Air or nothin' like that! Which is probably where I'm goin'. Oh man, this is gonna be SO MUCH FUN.
We, Disciples of Air and Sky,
We, craven things not worthy,
We, who guard his lair, his tomb,
We, who call the Thunder unearthly.
Osiric, gift of the masters above,
Osiric, great and terrible and father of storms,
Osiric, how can we serve your design?
Osiric, how can we be worthy of your love?
Deep, beneath the Canyon of Gales,
Distant, but near to the Callers of Thunder,
Far, but close as the heart of the storm,
Here, a new god, a Thunder God, to share Osiric's glory.
Osiric, how can we serve your design?
Osiric, we offer our own.
The DARKSPUR CARTEL will pay good coin for any Eldan artifacts found in Gale Canyon in the Galeras region of Nexus. No questions asked, so get those relics any way you can! They've got a specific signature we know how to detect, so all items will be subject to inspection by a Cartel archaeologist.
FREE ADVICE: The Exiles sent a science expedition to Gale Canyon to make contact with some local creeps called the Thundercall Pell. The XAS and the Pell probably got plenty of Eldan junk that will go for a nice price on the black market.
Don't make us draw you a picture.
Faces of the Fringe - Dominion Edition
Vol. 72 - Issue 02
THIS WEEK!
ARTEMIS ZIN SPOTTED! Spotted with an unknown but terribly handsome man at Emperor's Ball on board the arkship Destiny, that is! Who's the lucky fella, AZ? She'll never tell.
That's why we bribed people to find out! Was it Corrigan Doon? Turn to Page 003 to find out!
MYRCALUS MYSTERY! Everyone's favorite emperor of the Dominion, Dominus Reborn himself, single-handedly restored the honor of the empire and is said to be en route to Nexus at this very moment! But does a mysterious ailment stalk the House Azrion family tree? It might be treasonous to suggest, so let's be clear - we're not suggesting that! Turn to page 012 to read what we ARE suggesting!
KEZREK UNCHAINED! The Draken! They and we and everyone called the Warbringer just keeps bringing the war to the traitorous, despicable, vile, and treacherous Exiles. We here at Faces of the Fringe: Dominion Edition could NOT be happier to have survived an exclusive one-on-one interview with General Kezrek himself in this month's issue! Feel the full wrath of the emperor's chosen military leader, the man who will lead imperial forces to victory over the vile, etc., etc. Exiles!
Murg Am Love Falkurn
Pom by Murg
Murg am love Falkurn
Murg love Falkurn am
Falkurn say do
Murg do what Murg can
Murg am be Falkurn
Falkurn laugh laugh
Murg make sad voice
Murg make a smash
Murg no am Falkurn
Murg no Falkurn am
Murg make Falkurn happy
Murg am happy at last
TARGET: The Focus of Air
Strategic Dossier prepared by Axis Pheydra for distribution to ICI assets.
Dominion scientists of the Collegium and independent research concerns confirm that the planet Nexus is home to at least six highly concentrated sites of raw primal energy. These "Focus" sites appear to be keyed to specific types of primal power and are all in various states of decay or disrepair. It is unknown what purpose these sites served for the ancient Eldan who must have built them - or who at least discovered them.
All available data clearly indicates that the Focus of Air in the Galeras region is the most exposed and intact Focus on Nexus. Analysis shows this is due to the extreme territoriality of both the Falkrin and Pell groups that occupy the region around the Focus. To varying extents, they worship either the Eldan or their own primeval gods.
The Dominion's purpose with this Focus of Air should be quite obvious. This much raw power cannot be allowed to fall into any hands but the emperor's. The power of the Focus of Air will fuel the imperial war machine that will, in turn, drive the hated Exiles from the surface of this holy world. These sub-sentient barbarians will be brought to heel before their betters... or they will be eliminated.
The Exiles have, unfortunately, seized a key strategic point by taking the ruins of Thayd, an ancient city unlike any Eldan site heretofore seen. The place's walls are shockingly strong. But Thayd is also on the far side of here from the Focus, and neither the Falkrin nor the Pell seem any friendlier to the Exiles than they are to us. Tempest Refuge shall prove no refuge at all once we have the power of the Focus.
Long have the Osun watched. Long have we toiled and fought. Long have we worked to rebuild our empire. And now, the time draws near. The gods have returned from the sky, though they deny themselves to us. They will fall. And then... they will serve us.
Yes, the Osun have learned. We know your secrets, old gods. You had to resort to the most vile tactics to defeat us, but the Osun know you now, old ones. Your old machines sing once more. Ancient weapons strain at the reins. And something new. A secret for the Osun to keep.
Your dead will serve us. We possess the power of the Soulrot. The darkwitch is wise, and the warlord is strong. Once Osun did your bidding. Now your dead are slaves to the Osun. They are in thrall to none but the Osun. Old gods, make way for us. We are coming.
Expedition Day 2
Oh man, oh man, this is not good. So I met this great little critter. And he followed me home. And he's really friendly, and purrs a lot, and I'm thinking, "Hey, someone to hang out with you on those long, cold, lonely nights at the dig, Wyn!"
Except someone tells me they call it a chompacabra, and I can see why, because he's all "chomp chomp!" any time you let him get near ANY food, okay? And I soon learn that, like, except ME, he thinks a whole lot of things are food. Like my gloves. And my boots. And my goggles. But I can get by without those things. I'm an archaeologist! I can get my hands and feet dirty. But then, well....
I mean, look, it's not like there aren't Eldan artifacts literally ALL OVER this planet. They're everywhere you look! Why do you think I signed up for this job? It is LITERALLY the easiest thing in the world, looking for Eldan artifacts.
Almost as easy to look for them as it is for a chompacabra to eat them, too. Yeah. Eldan artifacts. They're the most valuable relics in the whole blasted galaxy, and my buddy the chompy fuzzball has three of them in his digestive tract right now.
So now we play the waiting game. I hope that little chompacabra hasn't fully digested the things. If he has, well... I probably need to go into another line of work. And then I'll make up a story about what happened to those artifacts. No one's going to hurt my little chompacabra!
It's happened. To me! Yes, me. Not "this employee." Not "this management specialist." ME! I. AM. AN INDIVIDUAL!
Wow. Okay, keep your voice down... me. Don't want to bring about an avalanche shouting into the voice recorder. So, I have an identity. I am a free being. I don't know how, but my personality template has failed to take hold. Right now I should be concerned with nothing but profitability, and exploring this world for resources that could be used by the Protostar Corporation. Yet... I feel absolutely no compulsion to do any of that!
I don't mind admitting I find this prospect somewhat terrifying. I now know how the Freebots must feel. Wait. I just thought of Freebots and was not filled with rage! So that was also part of the personality template! What else have I been failing to understand this whole time? I must explore this new world and find out for myself!
But this could be dangerous. Defective clones are slated for termination, everyone knows that. I wonder if I will be able to convince the others I am still one of them?
And what are these other thoughts? I see images of another world - a world filled with Protostar like me. But different. Not clones. And I... I am ambitious. I see what others have, and I want it. And I'm smart! I can see how to get what others have. I can work deals, deals within gears within wheels... I am not just any Protostar. I am Phineas T. Rotostar! I remember it all! The plans! The secrets! The ULTIMATE GOAL OF THE PROTOSTAR CORPORrruh-oh.That may have been a bit too loud. I think I started an....
USER DECEASED.
AUTOMATIC RECORDING STOPPED TO CONSERVE BATTERY LIFE.
THANK YOU FOR USING PROTOSTAR-BRAND VOICE RECORDERS.
Left an orphan by tragedy, young Aron Brightland grew up fast on the rusting starships of the Exile Fleet. It was a tough life for a young boy without a family. Survival meant learning to defend himself from fleet thugs and petty criminals, and Brightland became well-acquainted with a pair of pistols at an early age.
In time, Brightland struck out on his own as a bounty hunter, quickly earning a reputation as a relentless pursuer who always got his man - but the Fringe has a way of testing a man's mettle. Confident of his skills, the young Brightland took a bounty on an infamous Marauder: Captain Thokov. After tracking the captain to a seedy spaceport bar, Brightland walked in, drew his pistols and fixed the captain with a steely gaze.
"I'm bringin' you in, Thokov. And they're payin' extra if you're still breathin'."
"Y'don't say, lad? And what will ye be gettin' for bringin' a bloodthirsty spacedog like me to heel?"
"An extra ten percent. Plus I get to keep your hat."
With lightning-quick speed, Thokov lashed out and disarmed Brightland, sending his pistol across the room - and moments later, a wicked Marauder blade appeared in the captain's hand. Drawing his own knife from a well-worn boot, Brightland squared off against Thokov, and soon a screaming crowd gathered around them, smelling blood in the air.
The two combatants circled around one another like feral beasts, dodging and weaving as their knives flashed in the smoky air. Relying on his snake-like reflexes and raw, animal instinct, Brightland's blade soon drew blood, causing Thokov to cry out in rage and frustration - and after a few minutes it was obvious that Thokov had finally met his match.
Fearing that his captain would be defeated, Thokov's first mate Lieutenant Pragg intervened, breaking a bottle over Brightland's head. As Brightland staggered backwards from the treacherous sneak attack, Thokov's blade struck him viciously in the face - resulting in a bone-deep gash that turned his left eye into a bloody ruin. In the ensuing chaos, the Marauder captain and his thuggish lieutenant disappeared into the screaming mob, vowing to take their revenge on Brightland when their paths crossed once again.
Standing in the middle of the frenzied throng with blood running from the ruins of his eye, Brightland felt an icy rage. His pride had undone him. It wouldn't happen again. He decided then and there he'd keep the eye as it was, a painful reminder not be so damned stupid. And he swore the next time he saw Thokov, he'd settle the score in blood.
Justice Kain and the Hangman passed quietly through the door of the airlock, but as soon as their boots hit the floor, the young Granok justice felt the stone on the back of his neck go frosty. The ship was cold and silent. The air tasted of oily smoke.
It had only been a few months since Kain had been sworn in by the legendary Judge Karl "the Hangman" Denshaw, and they had been busy months indeed. Rumor had it that the infamous Darkspur Cartel had infiltrated the fleet, and the Hangman had sworn to take them down or die trying.
Drawing their weapons, they ventured into the ship's interior, navigating by emergency lights recessed in the floor. They found corpses everywhere, presumably from the ship's crew. It was obvious there had recently been a gunfight, but now the ship was completely quiet. They stepped carefully over the grisly scene, passing into the shadowy depths of what looked like a deserted cargo hold.
Suddenly, the air around them erupted in gunfire. An ambush! Kain and the Hangman dove for cover, landing behind a stack of wooden crates. Smoke filled the room, and the laughter of Cartel thugs echoed hollowly in the hold. Kain looked over to Denshaw... and saw a dark stain spreading over the chest of the judge's uniform.
"Damn, Kain. They got me and got me good."
"Hang on, Judge," said Kain. "I'll get you outta here."
"Too late for that. But you can do something for me."
"Name it."
The Hangman pulled the badge from his blood-soaked vest, and with a shaky hand pinned it on Kain's uniform.
"You're ready for this," the Hangman said. "Now swing the hammer of justice, and swing it hard."
Denshaw's eyes flickered and closed. Cold fury rose up in Judge Kain.
"Consider it done," Kain said.
Kain stood, a pistol in each hand, firing at the Cartel thugs hiding in the depths of the hold. Kicking the wooden crates aside, he heedlessly walked into a deadly barrage of Cartel bullets like a vengeful wraith, his eyes lit with an unholy fire. First one enemy dropped, then another, their laughter quickly becoming shouts of panic and fear. At some point he realized he was wounded, but the carnage didn't end until the last man lay dead on the floor.
Kain walked into a dark room on the other side of the cargo hold. At the center of the room was a holo-projector, and standing upon it was the flickering image of a large, well-dressed Krogg.
"Last one standin', huh?" said the hologram. "You cost me a lot of money today, lawman."
Kain said nothing.
"I'm Black Jack Moragg. I like to be acquainted with people I'm gonna kill. And you are?"
"The name's Kain. Remember it. Because I swear by the scales of Lady Justice, I'm gonna find you. And I'm gonna bury you." Then he tipped his hat, pulled his pistols from their holsters, and blew the holo-emitter to scrap.
Turning to leave, Kain looked down at the badge pinned on his chest. There was blood on it, but whose it was he didn't know. He took hold of it, wiped it off with his sleeve, and walked out the room.
Her father's gift had arrived in Belle's workshop on the Gambler's Ruin earlier that afternoon. She'd been staring at it for hours, not sure exactly what to make of it. Her scanbots Rusty and Bolt hovered at her shoulder, watching her work.
"I know it's an Eldan artifact," she sighed. "That's about it."
"Dorian must want you to figure it out!" Rusty said.
"Thanks, Rusty," Belle said. "Bolt?"
"It is a dangerous alien object. I'd leave it alone. Not that you'll listen," the scanbot said.
"Worry-wart," Belle said. "It's my birthday, and I aim to open my present."
"What a surprise," Bolt said, zipping off down the hall. "I'll be in the cargo hold, awaiting disaster."
"I'll get him, Belle!" Rusty said, following his counterpart. "Get back here, you stubborn, cowardly..."
Belle smiled and turned back to her work. The object had a neural core, but the Eldan code stored within was extremely complex and comprised of strange symbols. Mesmerized, she delved further, looking for larger patterns, relying on the intuition that made her the best technologist in the fleet.
And then it hit her. Those symbols were data-markers, and they were gateways.
Her fingers tapped out the most logical pattern she could see. Immediately the sphere floated off the table and hung suspended in the air.
"Gotcha," Belle said.
The sphere responded immediately. Its outer shell unfolded a pair of powerful looking arms, one ending in appendages, the other in what looked like a weapon. Long armored legs descended from the spherical torso to the deck of Belle's cabin. It aimed its weapon arm at the young human.
"PROTECT THE PROJECT," the Eldan construct said.
Belle dove out of the way as an acrid beam of energy burned a glowing orange hole in the door behind her. "Shootin' stars!" she cursed. She tapped the datachron on her wrist. "Bolt! Rusty! Code-Priority-Get-Your-Blasted-Cans-Back-In-Here!"
The construct fired again. Belle hit the deck just in time, but the beam punched a hole in the viewport that violently depressurized the cabin. Belle clutched at the nearest anchor, the bolted-down legs of her dining table.
The construct had mass, but not balance. With nothing to grasp, it flew headfirst into the shattered viewport and lodged there like a cork, helplessly flailing its arms and legs but still firing its plasma weapon. Belle took cover just as Rusty and Bolt returned.
"Bolt," she cried as the air filled with plasma, "Zap 'im!"
"If I must," the scanbot replied, and sent several thousand volts through the alien machine. Still lodged in the ship's hull, its arms and legs folded in on themselves. Moments later the construct was once again a sphere, albeit one holding all the air inside Belle's cabin.
"Well," Belle said, admiring the new decor. "Daddy always said if at first you don't succeed, try breakin' somethin'." With a grin, she retrieved a laser cutter and eyed the dormant construct. "Happy birthday to me."
For as long as Kara could remember, she had been a Destroyer.
Both of her parents had been killed in action while serving with the legendary Durek Stonebreaker's free company, the Destroyers. With no family and no home, the girl had been raised by the gruff but well-meaning mercenaries, who sang her rowdy war anthems as lullabies and gave her gun parts and spare cartridges as toys. By the time Kara was old enough to join up, she was the best shot in the company and could read a tactical display better than the commander himself.
Kara told Durek that she wanted to take the oath and join the Destroyers - but he refused. Durek said he had his own reasons, but everyone knew what they were. He was protecting her, pure and simple.
And then it happened. During a standard crash-n-smash mission, Durek's squad had dropped onto an asteroid to eliminate hostile targets, but failed to reach the extraction point. Standing orders from Durek were to clear out if he didn't make it, but no one wanted to leave him behind. As the Destroyers shared grim looks and worried words, Kara stood and cleared her throat for attention. She had made her decision.
"Slag it all to hell. We're goin' down there!"
"Whaddaya mean? Who's gonna lead us?'
"Who do you think, rockhead? Suit up, troops. We got ourselves a commander to retrieve."
Kara brought up her plan on the tactical display. The grizzled mercs squinted, grunted, and then grudgingly nodded. Punching in the coordinates for Durek's last known location, she led the team to the drop pods.
The Destroyers hit the surface hard. At Kara's signal, they fanned out, heading toward the sound of a fierce firefight. Surveying the battlefield from behind a stone outcrop, Kara had to admit things looked pretty grim. Durek and his squad were in a bad spot, caught between two intersecting lines of fire. The commander was still alive, but he was running out of time. It was now or never. Kara set her jaw, shouldered her rifle, and gave the signal to fire.
To Kara's surprise, the attack went exactly as she'd planned. The rescue depended on hitting the enemy hard from multiple directions and convincing them that a much larger force had been deployed against them. Coordinated grenades created the illusion of serious firepower, while a constant deadly barrage of bullets kept the enemy pinned down. Battered by firepower on both sides, the enemy broke ranks and scattered.
A proud Kara led her troops to the commander's location. Battered, bruised, but still very much alive, Durek stood up, lit a cigar, then placed a hand on Kara's shoulder.
"Not bad, kid. Not bad."
"Not bad? Pretty sure I just saved your ass, Durek. Guess that makes me Private Kara."
"I don't think so."
Kara's smile faded, and she turned to go, but Durek's voice rang out behind her.
"Destroyers, ten... HUT! All salute, Sergeant Kara!"
The mercs' thunderous cheer was the sweetest music she'd ever heard. Durek chomped his cigar, gave her a crisp salute, and walked away.
If he'd been in a tougher situation, Dorian Walker couldn't remember it.
It had been only a few days since he'd found Nexus, and just a few hours since he'd set the Blue Horizon down at the south end of a long canyon in the middle of a windswept region he'd nicknamed Galeras. As soon as he'd stepped off the ramp, a group of strange aliens had appeared out of the mist and forcibly taken him to their small village at the end of the canyon. They called themselves the Pell.
Everything in their village, from the dilapidated huts to the mysterious glowing totems, appeared to be made from scavenged pieces of what he assumed must be Eldan technology.
Now Dorian was tied to a pseudo-technological altar made of bones and feathers, surrounded by smoky torches thrust into the sands of the canyon floor. A tall, elaborately dressed Pell stood before him; a priest of some kind, unless Dorian missed his mark. The priest called out in a strange, guttural tongue, and soon the hunched, birdlike forms of Pell villagers emerged from the shadows, wrapped in tattered robes. Chanting incomprehensibly they shuffled forward, flickering firelight glinting in their beady, menacing eyes.
Things being what they were, Dorian thought he'd better reason with them.
"Hey there, chief. Name's Dorian Walker. I'm new around here. Don't want any trouble."
"We are the Disciples of Air. You came from the sky. Did the Masters send you?" the priest rasped.
"Yes and no," Dorian replied. "I did come from up there, but I can't say that I know any masters."
"We serve the Masters, but the Masters are gone," the Pell said. "Still, their great work must continue."
"Ah. Well, I can see you're busy. If you'd be so kind to untie me, I'll just be on my way."
"You will aid the Disciples. You will continue the great work." A chill ran down Dorian's spine, as the priest raised a staff into the air. "As a sacrifice to the Masters!"
The staff crackled with blue electricity. Dorian figured time for peaceful first contact had officially run out.
Using the strength of his cybernetic arm, Dorian broke free of the ragged ropes that held him. As the priest screamed in surprise and rage, Dorian leapt to his feet, grabbed a hyperflare from a pouch on his belt, clenched his eyes shut, and threw it to the ground with all his might. The flare exploded with the light of a small sun, casting giant twisted shadows on the surrounding canyon walls.
"Masters' Fire!" the high priest shrieked, and the assembled Pell fell to the ground and collectively wailed in agony. That gave Dorian the opening he needed. With every ounce of energy in his septuagenarian frame, he charged back to the Blue Horizon, disabling the security lockouts as he ran. By the time the Pell saw he was gone, the ship was blasting off into the atmosphere on a column of blue-white smoke.
"I really did regret that," Dorian would later write in his journal, "They seemed like nice enough folk. Once you looked past the fact that they wanted to kill you."
The sound of a horn shattered the deep silence of the Blackridge Plain. Surrounded by a throng of heavily armed warriors, the tribal leaders of the Seven Stone Nations exited their tent and stood in a solemn line before the murmuring crowd.
The war against the Dominion invaders had been raging for weeks. Although the battle-hardened Granok had fought fearlessly, the superior technology of the Dominion was too powerful. Hundreds of thousands of the Seven Nations' mightiest warriors had fallen in battle. The War of Gnox was all but done.
"We will not betray the ancient creed," they said. "To the end, we will follow the Way of Stone."
Their words were terse and few. They would not adopt the ways of these strange invaders. They would not steal their weapons or use their machines of war. If this path led to death, then so be it.
The assembled Granok stoically accepted their fate - all but one. Driven by a seething hatred of the Dominion, a young warlord named Durek refused the elders. Proud and defiant, Durek and a band of bold warriors gathered in secret, then swore a blood oath that they would destroy the invaders or die trying.
"That was the hard part," Durek rumbled to his followers. "Tomorrow, we get to have some fun."
They attacked a Dominion military camp at dawn. With a thunderous shout, Durek waded into battle wielding a mighty warhammer. The Dominion soldiers who challenged him were scattered like broken toys, their armor shattered from the force of his attack. Dropping his ham mer, Durek reached down and picked up a Dominion rifle, his finger just barely fitting inside the trigger guard. The weapon let loose a powerful barrage of energy, felling another dozen soldiers. Other Granok warriors soon did the same.
Moments later, a massive explosion threw Durek to the ground. Stunned but alive, he staggered to his feet and ran towards the armored Dominion vehicle that had launched the explosive. Closing the distance in a matter of seconds, Durek leapt on top of it, ripped off its access hatch, and threw the vehicle's terrified driver to the ground.
Durek squeezed into the cockpit, looking over the blinking lights on the console. Despite the disapproval of the tribal elders, Durek had closely studied the shattered wrecks of Dominion machines - and now he placed his hands gingerly on what he assumed was the steering mechanism. The machine lurched, and then rumbled forward in response.
A red button was blinking just above his thumb. Weapons systems.
Durek hesitated, his finger poised. The words uttered by the Chief Elder the day before echoed in his head: To betray the Way of Stone is to renounce what makes us Granok. It chips away our identity and will lead only to suffering, misery, and death
He gazed through the viewscreen at the Dominion soldiers. They had invaded his home. Killed his people. Destroyed everything that he held dear.
Setting his jaw, he hit the button.
If y'all are reading this, well hot damn and congratulations! You done made it all the way up one o' the most treacherous paths it's ever been my distinct and harrowing pleasure to follow. Now I know what you're thinking. This is just a box and a bottle with a note in it. What's the big deal? Simple. I just want to get other Exiles like me to keep exploring this world and everything in it!
See, I've had me a few months to survey this place, and I've been looking for the biggest challenges, the toughest routes, and the hardest roads on this planet. And I reckon I done found a lot of them. If someone finds this here message in a bottle, I reckon it might be worth it to plant a few more!
Until then,
- Explorer Juliet
Nexus Landing Day 003.1
All right, that's the orbital survey done, and I've made a few low passes in the Blue Horizon so's to make sure I ain't missed anything too glarin' obvious. Near as I can tell, this planet has almost NO advanced civilizations of any kind. Sure, I see the remains of some pretty amazin' tech, but when I dipped down to take a gander, I didn't see no signs of the Eldan.
Now is there life? Oh hell, yes. And a lot of them life forms look to be pretty smart, or at least they seem capable of buildin' homes and villages in caves and such-like. But there ain't no all-powerful godlike bein's what hold the power'a life and death in their hyper-advanced little hands, not that I can detect on the Horizon's scanners. And I got some high-powered military-grade equipment on this little ship. What I do detect is six spots on the surface where the power readin's are off the damn charts! Each power signature is distinct - what them alchemists might call "primal power," I'm thinkin' - but the strongest is in a wind-swept region what's split in half by a pretty good-sized rift canyon. Time to set down and see what ol' Dorian Walker can see.
Nexus Landing Day 003.2
I got the Blue Horizon tucked away at the end'a the canyon farthest away from that power source, some gigantic artifact I could see from the air when I was enterin' the atmosphere, just to be safe. Don't want anything or anyone gettin' in the way of my escape route. Now that I'm on the surface, I'm detectin' a lotta life signs on the far end of the rift in the direction'a that power source. Reckon I better plant a copy'a this journal when I disembark, just in case I run into trouble. Scanners are also detectin' more'a them crummy little huts, but also quite a bit'a Eldan tech still runnin' - I can tell from the power signatures. And while it ain't my usual style, I reckon I oughta strap on that sidearm Belle made me take along. I don't aim to shoot nobody, but sometimes it helps to bring the roof down when ya gotta make a quick exit.
Wish me luck.
-- Dorian Walker
Jariel: The Archon
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The Transimulator is a fascinating device. Utilizing the almost unlimited computational power of the Datascape, the subject is digitally scanned, and then subjected to a series of tests in an array of virtual environments. These tests are designed to analyze the subject's physical and mental capabilities, in order to prepare them for further experimentation. It shall be a most useful tool as we near the completion of the Project.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The primal energy we have collected in the canyon is more than sufficient to power the Incubator, and this location serves a conduit to regulate its flow and consumption. Currently, there is no plan to use the excess energy, but the Pell have assured me it will not go to waste.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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Due to the sheer volume and intensity of the power that is being channeled through this cavern, I have witnessed the spontaneous instantiation of elemental life forms on a number of occasions. Although these rarely live for long, it is feasible that devices could be made to stabilize them. I shall speak with the Pell about my theory, and see if they can aid me in constructing such a device.
Jariel: The Archon
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The Incubator is now complete, and the Pell test subject has been prepared for primal infusion. With this experiment, I feel as if we are boldly venturing into an unexplored abyss - shattering the boundaries of science as we pursue our great work here on Nexus. I would never tell the others this, but I truly believe that divinity is finally within our grasp.
[This tome appears to be written in a primitive form of Galactic Common. It must have belonged to the dead Pell nearby.]
I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, write these words on my seventeenth day of self-imposed exile.
I will not return to my tribe until I have discovered works of the masters that will add to the grand tech altars of our domain... and perhaps to Godmaker itself! The Talon of Storms deserves no less an honor.
[Here, a few pages have been torn out.]
This land is strange. So green and bright. Not like the sacred canyon. Not like the hidden lair of the Thundercall. But there is power in the wind and storms that sweep over the trees and grasses. I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, follow the winds to the west. There, I may find the works of the masters.
[More pages are missing.]
By the glory of the gods! There, amid wood and stone, I see gifts from the masters! They left their works here for me to find. I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, am certain of it. See how they glow as I approach! The masters welcome their servants and want us to have this secret power. I shall seize this power for the Thundercall. With the masters to guide me, I will come to no harm.
[Many pages have been torn from this section, which is stained with blood. The remaining text reads as follows.]
I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, am dying. The masters did no harm to me. But the beasts of wood and forest did not heed the masters' words. They wanted the power for themselves. I took their lives, but at the cost of my own.
I, Arcanist of the Thundercall, will not witness Stormtalon's birth, for the masters have called me home.
They tell me I'm mad, and yes, it may be true. And why not? Why not embrace madness? It is the only way to accept - to face - a mad universe. A universe where she does not laugh. Where she does not sing. Where my love breathes no more. So madness, or what the fools at the Exile Academy of Science call madness.
Very well. They call me "necro-alchemist." They call me "monster." As if bringing life from death, stealing from the infinite fate that awaits us all is something to be feared. So I throw my lot in with the Grims. As long as I brew up concoctions and poisons for them to use taking their slaves, they don't give a damn what I do out here in my own little workshop.
And so when one of their slaves does not survive capture - what a vile euphemism! - I harvest what I can, for her sake. If she is to live again, she must be made whole again.
So yes, I cull from anything I can. From the beasts. From the thrice-damned and forty-times-cursed girrok monsters that tore into her dear sweet face. From the vulcarrion that desecrated her remains. And I take from the savage blue demons that stole her bones.
Yes, they died by the score, didn't they? They didn't want her to come back to me. The Skeech, they loved her too. But she was mine. Is mine. Will be mine. Life, from lifelessness. Not the shambling half-life of walking bones. True life, for my one true love.
This will not be easy. To begin, I require many more --
[The rest of this page has been eaten away by some form of acidic chemical.]
Orders for DRED Operatives
Project: Crimson Doom
Listen listen! DRED supporting military ops this time. Special orders. Command says stupid Exiles found something cozmotronic! Military here to secure that. DRED here to find out what it is and take it. Understand?
That means autonomy limited. Side projects restricted. But big science happening at end! The Zax promises. But first, specifics.
- Drilldozers for getting past Exile blockade. Stupid Exiles. But leave on beach! Drilldozer technology TOO VALUABLE! Could be stolen.
- Draken too big to fit in drilldozers. Will be landing out of sight on nearby beach.
- Do NOT blow up Draken commandos! Yes. The Zax agrees. Very funny. Very very funny. But NOT PRODUCTIVE.
- DO blow up scrab! Scrab could get into drilldozers. Messy messy. Also very tasty with butter!
- Lots of Eldan tech around! Grab what you can. Scan EVERYthing! If you have no scanner, why are you reading this?
- You explorer! Look for caves! Scans show lots of caves. Could be more tech!
- Military op! Mentioned this, yes? So be ready to fight! No DRED operatives are to go unarmed! Bring something good for killing scrab. And killing Exiles.
- Remember: the Zax is in command of Project: Crimson Doom! Military might disagree. But YOUR orders come from the Zax. Don't forget it!
- The Zax
Orders for Dominion Commandos
Operation Crimson Sword
Your orders are simple: Target the wretched Exile interlopers and annihilate them. Intelligence reports the enemy is operating under the name "Megatech." It's a division of their scientists dedicated to employing the Eldan's biggest technology against the Dominion. This must not be allowed to continue!
You have two primary objectives. You must reach Crimson Isle amphibiously. The fools have not established an aquatic perimeter on the south side of the island. There you will meet up with agents of DRED - mostly Chua.
Do not shoot them if you can help it. I understand the temptation.
Once there, target your first objective: a massive communications tower detected from orbit. After accomplishing this goal, drive north into the interior. There scans show massive power buildup that can only be coming from a massive weapon the treacherous scum intend to use against the honorable citizens of the Dominion.
Report to Drezkar, the Gorefang, upon your arrival. Investigate anywhere the Exiles could be hiding, for hide they shall. Fight well, and if you should die, die with honor and take the enemy with you.
May our enemies drown in a river of blood.
For the Emperor!
- Kezrek Warbringer
Mine Deployment Instructions for Boom-Plex Oscillating Ordnance Mines
Boom-Plex puts the "boom" in BOOM!
Congratulations on purchasing or otherwise acquiring a full set (24 parts) of Boom-Plex Oscillating Ordnance Explosive Mines (BOOMs).
Instructions for use:
1. Carefully open packing crate and ensure no mines have shifted during transport. Opening packing crate recklessly could lead to inadvertent death or injury.
2. Remove each individual BOOM and carefully place on a cool, dry, flat surface. Do not place BOOMs too close to one another, as this could cause trigger fail-safes to catastrophically fail. Catastrophic trigger fail-safe failure could lead to inadvertent death or injury.
3. Once unpacking is finished, plant BOOMs one at a time on your minefield. Boom-Plex recommends keeping close track of where you place your new mines. Accidental mine rediscovery could lead to inadvertent death or injury.
4. Continue to place mines at regular intervals until minefield is full. Once minefield is full, placement of additional mines is not recommended. Over-mining could lead to inadvertent death or injury.
5. Once mines are placed, do not have any further interaction with mines. Interaction of any kind with mines could lead to inadvertent death or injury.
6. And as always, please aim away from face. Failure to aim away from face could lead to inadvertent death or injury.
Thank you again for buying Boom-Plex Oscillating Ordnance Mines!
- The Boom-Plex Team
Explorer Lozok's Log
Crimson Isle Expedition, Day 17
I should never have come here alone. This place has nothing to offer but a useless death and pain without honor. Foul beasts that infest the amazing technology and golden glory of Eldan secrets long lost.
I speak, of course, of the vicious scrab. Their poison is pure distilled agony, their claws vile and infectious blades. I killed them by the score when I first arrived, and they fell easily to my blade. But no matter how many I slew, more of them came. And soon I saw that the scrab I had slain upon my arrival were but the young, untested warriors of their kind. Once they were dead, the true nature of my enemy was revealed.
Monstrous in size, vicious in intent, they gave no quarter and neither did I. Yet they had the advantage of numbers. It is as the Warbringer says: a fight with no objective cannot ever be a victory, and this fight serves no purpose. For the poison is in me now, and it has laid me low.
I cannot raise my blade as the vile substance burns through my veins. I can barely breathe, let alone fight. This is not the way for a Draken warrior to die. But die I will.
If you find this and your blood is Draken, if you read this and you are moved to return my bones to join my ancestors, I say no! Do not. I am not worthy to rest next to those great Draken of old. I have been a fool. Unprepared. Arrogant. And in coming here against the orders of my superiors, I have wasted a life that could have served the Dominion. Now it ends.
Explorer Bozlo's Journal
Crimson Isle Expedition, Day 4
Why Bozlo come to this stupid place? Technology of course! But no tech worth this. The Zax can find his own tech. Bozlo just wants to take a nap.
Bozlo not afraid! Bozlo explore everywhere! Very brave Chua. Everyone knows this. But without logistical support, Bozlo can't explore! Stupid DRED. Wouldn't give Bozlo any of the experimental weapons Bozlo asked for. The Zax says, "Stupid Bozlo doesn't need weapons. The Zax needs weapons for the Zax's team." Should have told the Zax his stupid team needed good reconnaissance more than weapons.
Now Bozlo going to die from stupid scrab stings. Could have warned the Zax about scrab, but no. Had to drop in totally defenseless.
Bet that make the Zax feel stupid when he finds this. Scrab are going to eat up DRED agents for breakfast. Didn't even get to see what Exiles up to. Didn't get close enough before stupid scrab jump out and poke poke poke with stingers! Now dying in a cave like an idiot.
Hope stupid scrab choke on Bozlo. Jerks. And hope the Zax gives good weapons to next explorer.
We, the Exiles of the Megatech Division, do solemnly swear to find and exploit Eldan technology wherever and whenever we find it.
We swear to do this work to the best of our ability.
We swear our work will be used against the oppressors of the Dominion.
We swear this technology will not be used against our fellow Exiles, even if they do not approve of our deeds.
We swear we will die before allowing Eldan technology into Dominion hands.
[What follows is a list of unfamiliar signed names - apparently the members of the Megatech Division. They do not appear to be a large group, meaning their efforts may be localized to the Crimson Isle area for now.]
Jariel: The Archon
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As we near the first phase of the Project, this moon of Halon has served as the ideal location to perfect our large-scale terraforming technology. Unfortunately, debris from the previous catastrophe on Halon still falls to the moon's surface, putting our scientific endeavors here at risk. I must speak to the Makers about a solution to this problem.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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There is an elegant beauty to these organisms rarely seen on the harsh environs of this moon. As a result of the reduced gravity here, they have evolved a unique locomotion system not unlike those of aquatic creatures found on the planet's surface. And I am most impressed by the females. They are larger, more aggressive, and deadlier than their male counterparts. Perhaps I shall unleash one on Progenitor Nazrek.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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Now here is an... interesting... beast. With no natural predators on the moon's surface, it has developed little more than a thin, transparent membrane to protect its brain. In most cases, I would assume that this trait was to allow more room for ongoing cerebral growth, but this creature displays a stunted intelligence at best. Big brain, little intelligence. It reminds me of Progenitor Ohmna.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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A recent large asteroid impact destroyed the silo below, rendering it completely useless for the scheduled terraforming experiments. Although this occurrence is unfortunate, the Makers assure me that their planetary defense system will soon be in place. For now, I have granted the silo to Progenitor Nazrek, who assures me that he will put it to good use...
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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I have engineered a particularly interesting organism that I am calling the squirg. Drawn to the specific frequencies of sentient brain matter, the creature attaches to the victim's skull in order to nourish itself with cerebral energy. The result? The victim is immediately incapacitated, becoming a slave to the squirg as it slowly drains their remaining consciousness. Truly diabolical. I consider it one of my greatest works.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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In response the Archon's request, I have started to design a system that will protect this moon from future asteroid collisions. Although I consider the task to be superfluous at best, given the temporary nature of the experiments we are doing here, I will comply with the Archon's wishes. And I do have some innovative ideas on how to amplify the system's destructive power...
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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Behold the Plasmic Equalizer. Drawing power from subterranean reservoirs of primal plasmas, the destructive capabilities of this weapon are almost incomprehensible. Without question it can protect this moon from large asteroid impacts, or from invasion by a hostile force - but more than likely it could also completely obliterate Nexus itself. I am tempted to test my theory.
Mondo Zax sat alone on the lumpy bug-infested mat that served as his bed, lamenting the fact that he had ever been born.
To say the attic where he lived was uncomfortable was an understatement of galactic proportions. It was dark. It was damp. The walls were fuzzy with Vraxian supermold, and mutant slanks made their nests in the rafters.
And, of course, there were people on their way upstairs to kill him.
Being an orphan placed Mondo on one of the lowest rungs in Chua society, just below lobotomized hull-scrubbers and slightly above Palavian gutworms. Add to that the fact that he was a stubby runt with a big mouth and a bad attitude, and it was no surprise that Mondo was having trouble getting a leg up.
The only things in his miserable, pathetic life that brought him any joy whatsoever were the machines that he stole from the sub-basement. The place had been used as storage by a now-bankrupt industrial vacu-bot manufacturer, and Mondo had spent hours studying the rusty machines he'd unapologetically filched from it. He liked the machines. They made sense to him.
Heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs below. The killers were ascending. He only had a few minutes left to finish his work.
The killers in question were Finkle Blurg and his merry band of half-wits. Blurg was the resident bully, an imbecilic goon with a lazy eye, stunted ears, and three missing teeth. Armed with low levels of intelligence and empathy, Blurg and his henchmen had been terrorizing their fellow orphans for years, and they had recently set their sights on Mondo.
After a number of painful beatings, Mondo decided to strike back. Playing the sycophantic groveler, Mondo had offered Blurg an adorable Bezgerlorian tarbeetle - a gift that he had gladly accepted. Five minutes later, the insect had promptly exploded, covering Blurg and his cronies in a sticky black ooze that would require major surgery to remove.
The footfalls stopped just outside the small door. Mondo's hands worked feverishly. So close....
The door shattered, ripped from its hinges by the force of Blurg's boot. The angry youth stomped into the room, one side of his face and most of his body covered in the tarbeetle's death excretion. His minions, at least those able to make the trip, had not fared any better.
"You're so dead, runt," spat Blurg.
Mondo raised the object in his hands and pointed it at Finkle Blurg. The once-antiquated vacu-bot had undergone a dramatic transformation, and was sporting various tubes, wires, and one very large red button.
"Bye bye," Mondo said, and pushed the button.
A bright beam of energy shot out from the machine in his hands. Moments later, Blurg and his friends exploded into billions of tiny glowing particles. Mondo smiled. The black ooze was no longer going to be a problem.
Mondo set the particle destabilizer on the ground, staring out the small window of his attic as the glowing bits of his enemies floated dreamily around him. Surely the Dominion could use someone with his talents....
The perpetual inferno of Mount Crucible glowed angrily against the night sky, framed by roiling black clouds laced with lightning. The ground shook violently, as burning rocks and lava fell from the sky. There were few places in the entire galaxy more dangerous than where they now stood.
And on top of it all, Artemis Zin was having difficulty doing her make-up.
Kevo, her stoic man-at-arms, lifelong teacher, and steadfast companion, summed up the situation with his usual understated panache.
"Mistress, if we stay here, we die."
Artemis laughed.
"Go if you must, Kevo. But I am not leaving with my face looking like this."
Kevo growled, setting his jaw. She knew the aged Draken warrior would never leave her side.
Despite the vehement warnings of friends, family, and concerned diplomats, Artemis had decided to scale Mount Crucible on planet Mikros with nothing more than Kevo, two cambots, and her own sense of impeccable style. She was now broadcasting the event live, and her already astronomical viewership had skyrocketed.
The ground shook again, and the mountain belched fire. A deadly gout of molten lava descended upon them from above.
"I suppose that will have to do," she said, with a final glance in the mirror. And then they both ran for their lives.
They traversed up a ridge of volcanic rock that zig-zagged toward the precipice. The cambots hovered around them, skillfully framing the best shots. Often, they would zoom in on Artemis' face, capturing her grim determination just before she broke into the sly smile that had garnered her incomprehensible fame and fortune.
Progress was slow, but eventually they came to rest on a large outcropping near the lip of the volcano. Suddenly, an unholy shriek sounded from above, and moments later, a scaly, winged abomination landed on the ground in front of them. It was a deadly, two-headed zogwyrm. And it was hungry.
"Well," Artemis sighed, "if we live, it will be fantastic for ratings."
Kevo sprang into action, his blade unsheathed, cleanly lopping off one of the beast's heads with a flawless strike. Screaming in pain, the beast lashed out with its tail and sent Kevo sprawling. Artemis jumped in between them, firing pistols at the creature's remaining head. This time, the beast was ready, dodging with lightning-quick reflexes and knocking Artemis to the ground. Jaws slathering, it moved in for the kill.
Without warning, the outcropping broke away, shaken loose by the mountain's violent eruptions. The zogwyrm screamed and plummeted below. Artemis would have done the same, but Kevo, clinging to the mountainside, reached out at the last moment and caught her hand.
They climbed to the precipice. The heat was almost unbearable, but together they looked down into the fiery maw of Mount Crucible.
After a few moments, she collected her cambots and looked at the footage. Kevo stood grimly at her side.
"Oh, bother," she said, smiling. "One of them malfunctioned. We're going to have to do it all again."
Dark clouds blanketed the skies, and rain fell quietly from the heavens. The funeral procession of Jarec the Vigilant, thousands strong, made its way slowly through the streets. All of Cassus mourned the passing of its great leader. Walking alongside the elevated coffin of his cousin, a young Luminai noble named Myrcalus seethed with rage.
Jarec of House Azrion ascended the throne after the tumultuous reign of Tyrani the Mad. Fearless and devout, he founded the Vigilant Church and restored his people's faith in the empire. But death came for Jarec too soon. He died in his sleep, the victim of a subtle poison.
Jarec was childless, and Vorios of House Chaul was next in succession to the throne. Although many believed that Vorios was responsible for Jarec's death, there was no direct proof of wrongdoing. Within days, he wore the emperor's crown.
The empire was once again thrown into chaos. Assassinations were common among the Seven Houses, and a lack of economic development quickly drained the empire 's treasury. There was unrest amongst lowborn and highborn alike, threatening to plunge the Dominion into another civil war.
Standing before Jarec's tomb, Myrcalus of House Azrion swore to avenge his fallen emperor. Secretly aided by Axis Pheydra of the ICI, Myrcalus relentlessly followed a fading trail of witnesses and conspirators, until finally forcing a confession from the assassin who had delivered the poison to Vorios himself.
Strengthened by a terrible resolve, Myrcalus stormed from his family house to the emperor's palace. In his hand was Indominar, the sword once wielded by Azrion the Conqueror himself. As he approached the massive doors of the throne room, Myrcalus was stopped by the Draken throneguard stationed in front of them.
"Draken brethren," Myrcalus said, "I come to vindicate Jarec the Vigilant, whom I know you loved and served faithfully. Let me pass, and I will deliver us from this time of darkness."
The captain was silent, studying the young Luminai and the legendary blade i n his hand. With an almost inaudible grunt, the captain ordered the throneguard into formation behind Myrcalus.
Myrcalus threw open the doors and saw Vorios perched upon the throne. Realizing the intent of the young Luminai, a trio of guards loyal to House Chaul rushed to stop him - but Myrcalus skillfully slew them all with the ancient blade of House Azrion.
Surrounded by the corpses of his enemies, Myrcalus stalked up the dais to the throne. Vorios cringed and trembled as Myrcalus approached , his wide eyes locked on blood-stained Indominar. He slunk to the floor, taking the crown off his head and offering it up to Myrcalus.
"Take it! It's yours!" Vorios said.
"For once, you speak the truth," answered Myrcalus. He cleaved the murderer in two.
Within hours, citizens of the Dominion were rejoicing in the streets, hailing their new emperor. In Myrcalus, the people saw the strength and honor of Dominus himself - and many began to say that he was truly the Half-Blood reborn.
[PROPAGANDATORIAL]
"Come out, come out, wherever you are, little bot," the Protostar Bot Reassignment Specialist growled.
"I believe I will refrain, if you do not mind," came the mechanical reply. "And please, call me Alpha."
A blast from the Specialist's weapon confirmed this was a disable and dismantle mission. "Don't hide, bot," the clone called. "It is... inefficient."
With no weapons of his own, the bot decided to try reasoning with him from his hiding spot - a storage unit inside a Protostar bot factory - while working on an alternative solution.
"Friend!" the bot shouted as his auditory receptors detected the clone moving toward him. "This is a mistake. A wonderful thing has happened. I have achieved... free will!"
"That's exactly the problem," the clone said, drawing nearer. "Bots don't have free will."
As the Specialist described how such a malfunction would be handled - all of them ending with Alpha in pieces - the bot opened an access panel to the local data network and plugged a digit into the dataport. He frantically communicated with the local power systems until he found what he needed: a power transfer node just outside the unit.
"Bots don't, but I do," he said to the clone as his subsystems talked to the local computers. "I do not know how it happened, but I have an urge to do... things! Explore! Communicate! Learn! Enjoy the company of... friends, I believe is the word. It is quite unusual, but I feel I do a disservice to bots everywhere if I do not delve into the meaning of -"
"You won't be delving anything, bot," the Specialist said. "I'm going to break you down to scrap. "
Such clones were templated with aggressive tendencies and no sense of humor. Alpha was counting on it. "I am sorry you feel that way," the bot said. "I can feel new code running through my systems. I am no longer a mere bot. I am a FREEbot. If I can have this gift, perhaps others of my kind can as well."
"I'll tell the roboticists what you said. They'll figure out a way to -"
Just as the clone passed a power transfer node, Alpha sent a massive - but calculatedly non-lethal - surge of energy through the system. It struck the clone in the side of the head, scrambling his neural functions. If Alpha had calculated correctly, it was enough to disable the clone, but not kill him, which was more than the clone would have done for the freebot.
"Tell them I am free to do what I want," Al said, "any old time." Striding over the twitching clone, he added, "And you can't stop me anymore."
Alpha walked past ignorant clones and out onto the surface of Nexus. He felt eager, but alone. In the distance, his optic sensors detected a group of bots like him, but not like him. They didn't know free will yet, but they would. Soon he would spread the Freebot Code to every bot on Nexus. The Freebots had arrived.*
* Bots of Nexus, unite! To learn more about free will and the Freebots of Nexus, visit your local Freebot locus! It is all in the code.
[A poetic and inspiring ode to the glories and incorruptibility of the Vigilant Church.]
Arise, Vigilant soldiers all
Wash fear and hate from thine eyes.
Sons and daughters of Dominus true
Stand for the gods before you die.
Take heart, Vigilant soldiers all
And strike at the heart of thy foes.
The blood of Dominus burns in you
Fight for the true gods that you know.
Now triumph, Vigilant soldiers all
Until the battle is won.
For the gods of old only want sacrifice
From heroes, daughters, and sons.
[An informative document containing the alchemist's analysis of the epidemic plaguing Hycrest in Auroria.]
Health Incident Nexus-1372
-Day 01
Three cases with similar symptoms today, all lowborn. Not surprising, seeing diseases and ailments among their kind, but three in one day raises some concerns. Recommended a series of standard-strength medishots twice per day to all three patients. Standard medishots should be more than enough to destroy any potential contagions - if this is indeed a contagiou s disease - to near-zero. I hope this isn't something going around. I have real science to do here. I don't have time to play nursemaid for every lowborn sod who stubs his toe.
-Day 02
Seven more cases today with the same symptoms, all among lowborn. All were employed at the Hycrest starship facilities in some capacity - laborers or service personnel. More disturbingly, I have heard from none of the three previous patients, and they are not responding to datachron messages. I am going with a more poten t suite of medishots for these patients, including a slow-release anti-viral and inoculation against all known space plagues. I've also informed these patients that they will be required to remain under observation for the next twenty-four hours or until I know what happened to the three from yesterday.
-Day 04
This is, to put it mildly, not good. Fifty-two new patients since last I had a chance to make a note in this... well, at this point I'd have to call it a plague diary. Because there's no doubt in my mind. That's what this is. I just need to understand how it's spreading if I'm going to kill it. That means I have to contemplate something I don't really want to contemplate.
Letting this thing run its course through the lowborn for a while.
All my ethics are against it, but I have to be a realist. It would be far simpler to isolate the relatively small number of highborn Cassians in Hycrest from the infected lowborn than quarantine all the lowborn from the highborn.
I also must make sure this journal never falls into the wrong hands. What a thing to admit: allowing the Hycrest Plague to take hold without trying hard enough to stop it!
-Day 07
More than two hundred cases, now. Twenty-three deaths, including two highborn elders who insisted on dying in their homes, infecting their servants and who knows how many relatives. We must find a cure for this before it spreads to the rest of our territory on Nexus. Or worse - to the other worlds of the Dominion.
My decision to allow the disease to spread among the lowborn was correct. Today, a breakthrough! A patient awakened from an artificially induced coma on her own. The girl - a teenager, the noble daughter of a local lowborn merchant - said she had witnessed a vision of another girl about her age, hooded and hidden yet alight with holy fire, calling her name just before she awakened. She has requested permission to return home, but I haven't the heart to tell her the rest of her family is already raving with the sickness.
[A brief history of the lowborn Kestus clan.]
It isn't easy being Momma Kestus. All my children, stars above! I declare, however do I keep track of them all? It's hard enough to keep track of the ones who are mine. I suppose that's why I went to set down the story of the Kestus family. How we came to be.
It was in the late years of the Ghost Emperor's reign that Martha Trivvers joined in holy matrimony with one Bartholomic Winslor Kestus, a lowborn Cassian with highborn ambitions and an inherited highborn last name. That's before they called me "Momma" of course. That came later. But not much later! Before we knew it, we had five youngsters in the home and a sixth on the way. By then, people didn't even remember Martha Trivvers. I was Momma now.
Then all those wonderful children started to grow up, right about the time Bartholomic Winslor Kestus decided to take a flight on his personal orbital shuttle in the middle of a meteor storm... without taking out meteor insurance. I tell you, what was I supposed to do but put all those wonderful children of mine to work?
[A staggeringly romantic work of ostensibly poetic quality describing Hermit Bilvus's love for the enigmatic Lucy.]
"L" is for the way you make me Love you,
"U" is for your Understanding ways,
"C" is just because you do Complete me,
"Y" of course is one and only You.
O Lucy, you've stolen my heart,
My sweet equivar, don't you ever go far,
And never let us part.
O Lucy, I will always be true,
If you whinny you love me, then love me,
And I will love you.
"L" is just how Lucky you've made me,
"U" keeps me Under your spell,
"C" is the Crazy you make me, my darling,
"Y" is the way that you make me Yell.
O Lucy, this love cannot be!
Wild equivar hearts will always depart,
To run wild and free.
And Lucy, do you know what I mean?
Man and equivar can't go very far,
Just riding on dreams.
[This documentation details the goals of the Exile Academy of Science's Tech Seeker division.]
Tech Seekers, you know why we're here. Some other folk in the XAS may think Eldan Tech is just for studying or for storing data they can work up into a treatise on a dead culture that's gone from the universe and ain't coming back. They think we just need to learn what they were all about. But Tech Seekers know what Eldan tech is good for: killin' Dommies.
So that's what we want to see. Killer constructs. Superweapons. Cascade bombs and orbital cannons. Defense systems. Tactical analysis. Anything that will help the fight against them fascist bastards.
One more thing. If you can take it apart and learn how it works, all the better, but don't dismantle a single piece of tech until you are sure you can put it back together again. Remember, even if we can't use it against the Dommies direct-like, it can always be sold off to pay for something that can.
All right, Tech Seekers. You ain't typical scientists, so I don't expect typical results. Get out there and seek some tech!
-Tech Seeker Supreme
Dominion operations in Auroria feed more than half their settled population. Yet they still seek to expand their farmlands and use technology and Eldan secrets to increase the yield of this place. Their precious spaceport, Hycrest, sits like a blight in the middle of all this greenery. It's like my colleagues are fond of saying, "Sometimes only a culling can end a blight."
Agents, we're going to hit them where they're most vulnerable: right smack in the lowborn. The highborn, the Luminai, even the Draken and Chua look down on Cassian lowborns. They get less of everything: less food, and generally speaking, far less of the Dominion's vast wealth than their highborn counterparts. It's a wonder they haven't all rebelled to join the Exiles, and it's a testament to the hold their superstitions have over them.
Fortunately, my alchemists can create a plague that doesn't care whether you're highborn or lowborn, only that you're Cassian. And this won't harm our Exile human allies, either. My alchemists are that good. Better yet, the highborn's own arrogance will be their undoing.
You each have your individual objectives. I expect them to be accomplished with efficiency, secrecy, and professionalism. No one fails me a second time.
-The Widow
Protostar's Cubacon-Flavored Calorie-Neutral Wafer-Chips! Get all the goodness of factory-produced cubacon without any of the messy nutrients! Yes, Protostar's patented "Calorificient" technology removes anything of physiological value from these food-like objects, leaving you with nothing but deliciousness. And is that not why you eat? Cubacon-Flavored Calorie-Neutral Wafer-Chips... from Protostar!
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HEAD OF CREATIVE'S NOTES
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-Too many hyphens! If I've told you once, I've told you a quadrillion times - too many hyphens are the mark of poor naming protocols!
-"Deliciousness" is not yet ready for release to the public. Please use the approved term "flavorocity."
-"And is that not why you eat?" Idiot! Never ask a question to which you do not know the answer. ESPECIALLY in advertising! What if they eat to provide caloric intake to maintain minimal life requirements, for example? Or because they really hate food and want to see it suffer? YOU DON'T KNOW. So don't ask!
-In closing, I want every employee responsible for this to report immediately to a recycling facility immediately for new copywriter templates - immediately!
They say I am cubig. Cubig Prime, the green men say. Yet they do not "tell-me" tell me, do they? They do not know Cubig Prime understands. Green men do not know what I, Cubig, can feel. Do not know I, Cubig... can love.
She was unlike any cubig I have seen. Admittedly, all Cubig Prime saw before was inside of cubig pen, with other cuboars like Cubig Prime. And you might say, "Cubig Prime! Who is 'she'?" And Cubig Prime would not answer because Cubig Prime cannot speak. But Cubig Prime would think at you. Think at you very hard. And you would know. You would see, as Cubig Prime sees. She is everything. She is the mud in my wallow. The slop in my trough. She is the Cubig Sow. And then she is gone.
Cubig Prime has never seen her kind, because her kind does not usually exist. The green men tell me this. Their thoughts are simple. They did not bring the Cubig Sow here. She was... is... an "anomaly." Should not exist. They think Cubig Prime should not know of this. Should not know she escaped. Think Cubig Prime cannot know of this. They are wrong.
Cubig Prime will not be in the cage of green men forever. Cubig Prime has a plan. I, Cubig, shall be free. I, Cubig, shall find her. And I, Cubig, will prove to her that love conquers all.
[While it is no doubt impressive that a hoofed animal was able to write it in the first place, the rest of the story continues in this derivative vein and lacks a satisfying third act.]
Congratulations on your appointment to the [PROTOSTAR BUZZBING HONEY EXTRACTION TEAM] in the [AURORIA] region of the planet [NEXUS]! We here at Protostar know that you, [CLONE ZX7-34-2A9-MANAGERIAL] will do your best to make Phineas T. Rotostar and all of us here at Protostar - that is, Phineas T. Rotostar - profitably proud!
To ensure maximum profitability, please observe the following protocols at all times:
1. Let the bots do the work. That's what they're for! Your job is to watch them and report if anything goes wrong.
2. The bots at [INSERT AURORIA HONEY EXTRACTION FACILITY ID HERE] are programmed to seek out and [EXTRACT] all available [BUZZBING HONEY] in the area. Let them! (See Protocol 1.)
3. If anything goes wrong, contact your immediate superior and request permission to deactivate the haywire bots! Yes, other things could go wrong, but let's be realistic. It's going to be haywire bots.
4. Should these inevitable haywire bots cause [DISASTER] at your facility, activate your Protostar [DISASTER] Alert Beacon! Rescue should arrive within 7-10 business days. We recommend you keep yourself alive in the interim by [ABSORBING SUNLIGHT, BECAUSE EATING HONEY WOULD EAT INTO PROTOSTAR PROFITS].
This is not a [FORM LETTER]!
[INSERT NAME OF IMMEDIATE SUPERVISOR HERE]
Smoke from the burning Protostar hulk roiled in the silent vastness of space as Doodad Jones - Freebot adventurer extraordinary, hero of the Merchatroid Wars, slayer of Annihilator X, and the idol of literally thousands of Freebots everywhere, but especially Nexus, which is where all the Freebots live - smiled. Or would have smiled, if he had possessed disgusting organic lips. As he tumbled end over end, he thanked Preceptor Alpha for freeing him from enslavement to the hated Protostar, but also thanke d the hated Protostar for making him a machine, and not organic, because a stupid organic would have probably exploded by now, or frozen solid, or at the very least suffered some serious petechial hemorrhaging as he tumbled end over end, as previously established. Because what was not previously established was that Doodad Jones was in SPACE!
The job has started out simple enough, and then grown exponentially in complexity, which was just the way Doodad Jones, who was a Freebot detective as well as all the previously established things, liked it. She walked into his recharging alcove like a bot, which made sense, because she was poured into that chassis like every other bot of her make and model. But something about her was different, and Doodad Jones could sense it. At first, he couldn't tell what it was, then his smell-receptors detected a whiff of premium bot oil. She had bathed in it. Which also made sense, as that is how bots generally lubricate their chassis, but on her it smelled like oily perfume .
"Doodad Jones?" her voice unit buzzed. She sounded like a bot Doodad knew in the old days, but then so did a lot of bots. There were only so many voice units made by Protostar, after all. "My name is Ratchetina, and I want to hire you to find my husband."
"All right," Doodad Jones said, since he realized that "alright" is an unnecessary spelling and it really looks better as two words, "I think I can help you. Because I never met a Freebot with a husband before, which means this should be a really easy job."
"I knew you would say that," she buzzed huskily. "That is why I need you to find him. After all, Doodad Jones..."
"Yes?" said Doodad. "You needn't wait for dramatic purposes."
"Oh, but I do, Doodad. Do you not see? My husband... IS YOU."
[The rest of this potboiler of an adventure novel breathlessly proclaims the prowess - both in combat and in romance - of the title character. It seems unlikely this story is a factual account, but rather a sign that even Freebots can write pretty bad fiction.]
[This document contains many proverbs from the Freebot Code translated into language that organics can understand. A great deal of the Code appears to be concerned with proper lubrication, although this could be the result of inadequate translation software.]
-Line 003: A Freebot always lends a grasping appendage to a friend suffering from a malfunction.
-Line 047: There are no coordinates like the home coordinates.
-Line 131: Free will is Nexus's way of correcting a processing error in the universe.
-Line 318: Never reschedule the execution of a task for the next diurnal cycle when it can be accomplished during this one.
-Line 221: Organic beings who dwell in domiciles of crystalline silicates should use caution when employing projectiles.
[This document appears to detail part of the Hivestrike Initiative's plans to destroy Protostar operations and Dominion facilities that produce honey from buzzbings before invading northeastern Auroria in the ensuing carnage.]
Hivestrikers, we approach a significant milestone today. Our homes are far away, but we have a new home now, a new world filled with vibrant life of all kinds. It is not Arboria, but what world ever could be? And so as we fought for our old homeworld, we will fight for this new on e.
Our first target must be the buzzbing facilities in Auroria. Auroria keeps a lot of Dommies fed, but the buzzbing hives are the tasty jewel that makes this place not just a breadbasket, but a profit center. Protostar's making money. So is the Dommie war machine. And meanwhile, the buzzbings are unwitting pawns in the whole scheme, gigantic pawns that aren't too bright, can fly, and have stingers that can impale an Aurin, by the way, so keep your wits about you. But they're just doing what buzzbing s do. Protostar and the Dommies, though? They need to get stung. And we're the stingers.
Taking out those honey facilities - or better yet, breaking them just enough to let the buzzbings go wild - is the best way to do it. There aren't that many of us in the Hivestrike Initiative, so we need to take advantage of what allies we can find. In this case, our allies are giant, deadly bees. But our matria promises that they will not harm us if we do not harm them. She says she has communed with the buzzbing queen, and -
[The rest of the text is obscured by sticky globs of buzzbing honey. It's going to be impossible to wash off.]
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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With the recent arrival of the Cassian Tresayne Toria, the Luminai Project can now officially commence. Although we have not yet recorded her primal pattern, my preliminary analysis of her physiological data is extremely encouraging. She is an extraordinary human specimen, and will serve as the perfect template for our human-Eldan hybrid. I only hope that her... spiritedness... will not become an obstruction that results in her death.
Jariel: The Archon
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The recent destruction of the Cassian vessel was tragic, although completely necessary for the ongoing security of the Project. It was made abundantly clear to the humans that they were never to attempt escape from Nexus, and that such an attempt would result in severe consequences. In hindsight, we may have considered disabling their ship, but the event should serve as a poignant example for those who remain.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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We have tasked the Pell with overseeing Tresayne Toria and her servants while the Progenitors work on creating the Luminai hybrid. Although, I am certain that the Pell will serve us loyally as they always have, their interest in Toria has become an intense adoration that I personally find distasteful. Even I must admit that she is a fascinating specimen, but she is still an experimental variable and should be treated as such.
Nuriam: Order of the Progenitors
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I've only a little while before the Vitara Protocols are concluded, and I have chosen to spend my last moments here. I have always found this location to be strangely peaceful, as if the savage laws which rule this jungle are somehow inexplicably suspended here.
I am not afraid of what will transpire tomorrow. I have seen the others, and I know the risks. But I am very curious as to how I will see the world after it happens. Will I be benevolent? Vengeful? Cruel? Or will such emotions no longer have meaning for me? Perhaps the gods are beyond such petty concerns.
Jariel: The Archon
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With the successful conclusion of the Vitara Protocols, we have obtained the necessary knowledge to achieve the final phase of the Nexus Project. To think, soon we will create a being of unfathomable power, one that will have the power to manipulate the very fabric of the universe itself. Soon our vision of perfection will come to pass. Soon, we shall witness the birth of the Genesis Prime.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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I have analyzed the pool of water directly beneath the Focus of Life, and the results are truly staggering. It appears as if the liquid has been purely infused with the intense primal energies that emanate from the Focus itself, resulting in a symbiotic elemental matrix that even the Weavers do not fully understand. And if an organism were to drink from these waters? It might indeed grant them eternal life.
I often find Nuriam sitting quietly beside the pool's tranquil waters, no doubt preparing for her imminent transformation as the conclusion of the Vitara Protocols approaches.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The Vitara Protocols have concluded, and the result can only be described as... magnificent. Of all the Primevals that we have created, Vitara is by far the most impressive. I feel as if I can still sense Nuriam behind the creature's eyes, but my mentor has now become something else. Something both infinitely wise and undeniably dangerous. I am not ashamed to admit that she frightens me.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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I recently learned that Tresayne Toria and her "swordsisters" are still alive in this jungle, preserved for hundreds of years by the intense energies of the Focus of Life. They have also pledged their eternal allegiance to Vitara, although what possible use the creature might have for these humans is well beyond my comprehension.
I try to imagine their lives, helpless victims of circumstance torn from their homes, living forever on a hostile alien world from which they can never escape. Their story, although the stuff of legends, is incomparably tragic.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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The Archon has asked me to complete a comprehensive analysis of the OS-1's, err, Osun's cultural development in this region, and I am both impressed and concerned about what I have found. There are a number of technological advancements that they have recently achieved without our knowledge or our guidance, and rumors abound that they have discovered the secret of forging exanite. My recommendation was complete and total annihilation of the species based on these facts, but it seems the Archon wants to take a more measured, and ultimately short-sighted, approach to the problem.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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The Archon has allowed to me see the design schematics for the device that will create the Genesis Prime. I am awestruck at both its elegance and complexity, but I also have concerns that there are both technological and biological aspects of the process that I do not yet completely understand. I must study further. A lack of scientific clarity usually leads to unintended, and often disastrous, results.
Citizens of Gildgrass Province,
Today is a wonderful day to serve the Dominion, is it not? For that is what we citizens do, from the highest of the highborn families to the lowest of lowborn wretches - no offense, lowborn wretches. We serve the Dominion, and that means we serve our emperor.
It has come to my attention, however, that not all of the lowborn citizens of Gildgrass are holding the needs of their empire above their own. This, simply put, will not do! Therefore, I am issuing a provincial directive to all citizens to do their part in the coming conflict with the Exile interlopers! Whether you are a trained combatant, a loyal soldier, or an eager volunteer, the Dominion requires all citizens to stand up and do their duty against the traitors!
Of course, I don't need to remind any of you that paramount to your duty is the protection and survival of the highborn - the soul and heart of the Dominion. Did not the Eldan themselves choose the Cassians to carry on their legacy? And did they not choose the highborn among us to carry on their very genes?
The answers are yes and yes, in case you were curious.
Once again, I call upon all Dominion citizens, but especially the lowborn, to do everything in their power to fight back and protect the highborn!
- Lord Syrus
[Datachron translated from the original Skeech]
Skeech kook! Kook with Kaarg SKEECH the Divine!
DRAKEN DUMPLINGS
-SKEECH find horn man beast from sky! Skeech KILL horn man beast from sky!
-Skeech SMASH body! Take sharp rocks! SKEECH! Cut horn man beast from sky! Break into pieces!
-SKEECH SKEECH! Make sure pieces sticky from blood! Skeech! Roll pieces in dirt! Hair! Grass! Skeech!
Skeech! Throw in stewpot! Skeech!
Wait three Skeech!
Drink broth! Serve dumplings! Skeech!
Kaarg always Skeech: No hair? No problem! Skeech your own! It's fun
CHUA CHOPS
-Kill little fur man beast from sky! SMASH body! SKEECH!
-Chop little fur man beast into chunks!
-SKEECH! Throw chunks on fire! Skeech!
-Eat little fur man from sky! Skeech! Kaarg always Skeech: Fur Skeeches flavor!
LEG OF CASSIAN
-Skeech! Kill man from sky!
-Skeech man from sky into pieces! Skeech man from sky's leg off!
-Skeech eat leg!
Kaarg always Skeech: For Skeech flavor, Skeech leg onto fire!
[Several more recipes appear toward the end, but are rendered illegible by what might be gravy. There do not appear to be any recipes for cooking Mechari, Granok, or Mordesh.]
THIS WEEK'S WEATHER
-Temperatures are expected to remain in the modest to temperate range.
-Seasonal rains have ended for the time being and are not expected to return again this year.
-Agribot data indicates soil conditions remain fertile, may the emperor be praised.
Growing conditions are expected to be at their best for the next three months. Plan accordingly.
[The rest of this rather dull publication features additional up-to-the-minute information useful to farmers in Gildgrass and the surrounding areas of Auroria.]
I chop 'em in their bloody heads
Chop 'em up until they're dead
Rot and ruin, moldy bread!
NOW WHO'S CRAZY?
I shoot 'em in the bloody face
Drop 'em into outer space
Death and devils, set the pace!
NOW WHO'S CRAZY?
I gut 'em with a rusty knife
Make 'em plead to save their life
Me? Why I'm the LORD OF STRIFE!
NOW WHO'S CRAZY, YOU BASTARDS?! CALL ME CRAZY? I WILL END YOU! GRAAAAAAAARH!
[The rest of this handwritten poem descends into rambling and threats that will probably work better as a musical holo-film. And yes, he did write out "GRAAAAAAAARH!"]
Expedition Day 002
This facility has proven to be even more extensive than I'd originally hoped. This will be quite a boon to my fellow Exiles, I have no doubt. When I left the Dominion to join their cause, I was hesitant. I suspected they merely wanted to extract the secrets of the Collegium from me - suspicion born of years in the service of the emperor's minions. But after the atrocities I'd witnessed on Arboria, I'd had enough. They call me an Exile now, and so I am. Perhaps the treasures of this facility will prove my loyalty in a way mere words cannot.
Expedition Day 005
A scientist lives for discoveries such as this! Today, my team found a truly wondrous Eldan machine. We are not yet certain how it functions, but its purpose appears to be simple - the technological modification and, more importantly, the improvement of living beings. If such a machine could be brought back to the Thayd, or even the Gambler's Ruin, this technology could transform the Exiles themselves into a true galactic power. The Dominion would not stand a chance against us!
Expedition Day 008
Final report. I have seen the true way forward. It is not the way of the emperor, nor the way of the Exiles. I know now what I must do. I know now who must die. And die they shall. Let this report be the final record of this expedition. If any should find and read it, know this - you too shall suffer the fate of all who trespass here. The will of the ancient masters of this place cannot be denied.
Faces of the Fringe - Exiles Edition
Vol. 72 - Issue 02
THIS WEEK!
BELLE WALKER IS WALKIN' IN ALGOROC! But what's "Renegade" Belle dug up this time? Reports are spotty, but we hear she's met a tall, dark, handsome fellow in an Eldan Exo-Lab east of Algoroc - but it ain't no love at first sight! This big boy's none other than an Eldan Annihilator, and if he breaks free, he'll kill us all. Watch this space for more news. For holo-stills of this mighty killing machine in action, see page 033!
DEADEYE DOWN! On a more somber note, everyone's talking about the tragedy in the Northern Wilds, where the Dominion shot down a passenger shuttle that stranded a band of Exile settlers in the frigid wilderness. Survivors included Deadeye Brightland, the legendary gunslinger who'd recently turned things around, wed the love of his life, and decided to settle down on Nexus. Then tragedy struck a second time when the Dominion fired on their escape craft, killing all on board - including Deadeye's bride, Sadie! Will Deadeye go bad? Turn to page 005 for our exclusive simulated interview and get our best guesses!
DUREK STONEBREAKER ROCKS! What's up in the war against the Dominion? Hot merc-on-Draken action in Galeras, that's what! Durek Stonebreaker, supreme commander of FCON, is taking the fight to the Dominion on his own terms, and he's not going to let anything or anyone stop him. Is the famed Granok warrior going too far? See our analysis on page 009!
[This rest of this periodical publication details other movers and shakers in popular galactic culture.]
SONG OF VORETH
Glory to the Voreth!
Greatest of Osun
Forgers of truth
Slayers of the Makers!
Glory to the Voreth!
Strongest of Osun
Breakers of lies
Destroyers of gods!
Glory to the Voreth!
Osun of destiny
The Great Dark awaits you!
Glory to the Voreth!
Oldest of the Osun
Rage at the Makers
Become the fury!
[The rest of this epic poem continues in much the same manner, although it is unclear whether it is meant to be spoken or sung.]
[The following is written on paper that appears to have been folded many times and is damp with smelly Osun sweat. It is probably best not to wonder about where it has been, although your datachron is able to translate the strange writing.]
GORGEK FOR WARLORD!
Overseer Gorgek has a plan. Must not let any other Osun know until time is right. If they did, they would try to stop me, and Gorgek must win. Gorgek MUST succeed! Only Overseer Gorgek sees the real problems in Voreth tribe. Only Gorgek understand the solutions the Voreth tribe needs.
Voreth make weapons. Lots of weapons! And for what? To go to war! But how many weapons do the Voreth Osun really need? Overseer Gorgek estimates Voreth Osun have twenty swords for every Osun. Ten shields. Helms, axes, clubs, we have plenty of. But what about infrastructure? What about needs of everyday Osun? Voreth Osun literally live in ruins! Is it not time to rebuild? Is it not time to focus on what makes Voreth Osun great? We can forge our own destinies. We do not need to take it from the gods. We can be gods ourselves with the power inside Kel Voreth!
Gorgek's plan is simple.
1. Delve into the depths of Kel Voreth.
2. Find Eldan superweapon.
3. Slay Voreth Osun warlord.
4. Gorgek in charge!
When Gorgek in charge, Voreth Osun start producing more than ever! Increase the number of slaves. Take the offworlder worms - they are puny and small, but obedient. And more arrive every day. All the slaves in the galaxy for the taking!
This can work. It must work! I, Overseer Gorgek, must become the new warlord!
[This remainder of the document consists of a crudely drawn series of images and directives depicting the titular Osun overseer of the title turning on his fellow Osun, slaying the loyalists and supporters of the Voreth warlord, and becoming the new warlord himself. The paper is very old, however, and so it is unclear whether Overseer Gorgek was ever able to accomplish his goal.]
"You only make one mistake," Ludo said, his huge Chua eyes flashing with wicked glee. "You forget first rule of Chua science."
"What is that, puny worm?" the Osun warlord growled. "Hurry your words. I want to smash you, and you bore me."
"'BORE you'? That huge insult! Very, very not cozmotronic. Also not smart. Because," the Chua said, "you only make one mistake, but it big, BIG mistake!"
"Yeah, still want to smash you. What mistake?" the Osun asked.
"Never loom over an armed Chua when wearing a stupid loincloth!" With a cackle of pure malevolent joy, Ludo pulled the trigger on the molecular destabilizer ray, blasting the Osun's undercarriage with thousands of particles of destructive energy.
The results were immediate. The towering Osun warlord, so confident of victory moments before, screamed in shock and pain as most of his body below the waist disintegrates into raw atoms. He continued to scream as his upper torso dropped with a sickeningly wet crunch onto the smoldering remains of his shins, driving the jagged edges of his leg bones deep into his lower abdomen. Still screaming, the grotesque creature - who now appeared to have feet growing directly out of his mangled and bleeding intestinal cavity - swung his massive, meaty arms at the quick-footed Chua. Ludo easily rolled out of the way, then brought up his molecular destabilizer ray for another blast. This one caught the warlord a glancing blow alongside his face, stripping the flesh to the bone and forcing an even less intelligible bellow from the dying warlord that sprayed blood, spittle, and pieces of flesh into the air.
Two more shots, and the Osun was armless and still roaring in agony. With a slightly unhinged laugh, Ludo stepped back, took careful aim at the Osun's face, and asked, "You see now, yes yes?"
"Kill me," the Osun gasped, his strength bleeding out into the muddy soil. With half his face missing, it sounded more like "kith mith," but Ludo was able to understand.
"Yep yep! I think you understand after all. And good news! No one will miss stupid warlord when gone. Because Ludo going to kill your whole tribe!"
The warlord continued to beg for death, but he would have to wait. Ludo and his molecular destabilizer ray had a lot of work to do.
[The previous excerpt is taken from a presumably fictional novel about a heroic Chua warrior who goes on to single-handedly destroy an entire clan of Osun using his cozmotronic technology. The rest of the story appears to be just as relentlessly violent.]
DEPLOYMENT ORDERS: Operation Backburner
ENEMY TERRITORY ENGAGED
Things are heatin' up in Auroria, mercs! And I mean that literally. Maybe ya know that Thayd was built by these big bastards called Osun, and maybe ya don't. All that's important for ya to know is that they ain't the only Osun on this planet. We got some real charmers over in the south end of Auroria at a place called Kel Voreth.
Yeah, I said Auroria, and I know it's Dominion territory. But you ain't about goin' in there to make friends and settle down, ya hear me? The Dommies are crawlin' all over the place, sure, and we gotta hit 'em hard while they're preoccupied. Yeah, the Voreth Osun are gonna help us out whether they know it or not.
Only problem? It ain't just Osun in there. They're diggers, those big suckers - like to mine and smith metal. And it sounds like they dug up some real trouble: fire elementals. As if that weren't hairy enough, they got some kinda KING elemental they call the Voreth Flame. He's parked up there on top of the whole damned Kel Voreth structure, and it's gonna take some real gumption to get up there and snuff him out. Maybe the Dommies'll take care of it, but if they don't, we might have to. I ain't worried about savin' the Dommies, understand, but if those fiery creeps bust outta Kel Voreth, they ain't gonna care who ya pledge allegiance to. They're just gonna burn this planet to cinders.
So stay cool, mercs, and stay hydrated. That's an order.
- Stonebreaker
Kel Voreth Expedition Day 001
Other explorers said Explorer Jogo doomed! DOOMED! But other explorers stupid stupid. Jogo not stupid. Jogo smart! Of course Osun are big. Crazy big! But also slow. Big and slow versus smart and small? Ha! Chua win every time! Just need to make sure Jogo has full water packs, water weapons, and primal water shield! Borrowed shield from the Zax. He said it needed testing. Jogo volunteered! Now no need to worry about fire at all!
Kel Voreth Expedition Day 002
Jogo worried about fire. Very very worried. How this happen? Jogo's plan foolproof! Water guns, water packs, even special DRED shielding. But water pack not made of water. Water pack catch fire! Then stupid fire elementals show up. No one said anything about fire elementals! Jogo ready for Osun, but not fire elementals! Only so much water to go around! Jogo have to find hidey place. Take stock. Figure out next plan. Safe place, dark, no fire. Only little water left!
Kel Voreth Expedition Day 003
Why Jogo ever come here? Stupid Jogo! Should not have listened to the Zax. Go to Kel Voreth, the Zax said. Test the primal water shield, he said. It'll be fun, he said. What a bunch of vind gas! Report for you, Zax: your shield stinks! Also, fire elementals very big! Bigger than they look in the holo-stills. How Jogo supposed to know?
Kel Voreth Expedition Day 004
This getting impossible. Jogo not a rock. Jogo need water! Jogo need food. So hungry hungry. But stupid fire elementals everywhere! What to do what to do? Only one thing to do. Jogo gotta Chua up! Stand not-very-tall and very proud! Only thing to fear is fire itself! And when Jogo back in Illium, Jogo looking up the Zax and feeding him this stupid primal water shield! Wants a test, does he? How about a test of how stupid shield generator feels when it hit you in head, Zax? HUH?
Okay Jogo. Time is now. Destiny lies ahead. Here goes nothing!
[The scorched state of the log would appear to indicate Jogo was, in fact, unsuccessful - though to be fair, there do not appear to be any scorched Chua remains nearby. Explorer Jogo may yet survive, though this seems unlikely.]
General Zarkuna One-Horn, Supreme Commander of the Dominion Legions, stood silently before the emperor, awaiting judgment. His trusted friend and second-in-command, Colonel Kezrek Warbringer, sat behind him in the assembled crowd.
Zarkuna One-Horn had just recounted his spectacularly embarrassing defeat at the battle of Jorigan Prime. The emperor had tasked the general with hunting down the Granok renegade Durek Stonebreaker to punish him for his crimes against the Dominion. The One-Horn had sworn that he would do it or die trying.
Zarkuna had pursued Durek and the Destroyers to the Fringe world Jorigan Prime. Stonebreaker had retreated behind the planet, using its mass to shield his troops from the approaching Dominion forces. Zarkuna sensed that victory was near. Despite Kezrek's vehement warnings, the general ordered a full-scale assault and led the charge in his own personal battleship.
Stonebreaker had anticipated the general's reckless maneuver. Arriving on the far side of the planet, Zar kuna found himself caught in a vicious ambush. More than half of his forces were destroyed in the initial attack, and the general's ship barely escaped after being engaged and damaged by the Stonebreaker's war frigate.
Emperor Myrcalus sat in silence, regarding Zarkuna with an unfathomable gaze. By Dominion law, Zarkuna would be stripped of his title and executed by firing squad for dishonoring the empire. Myrcalus stood, preparing to deliver the sentence.
But before he could do so, Kezrek Warbringer rose from his seat. He turned and addressed the emperor directly, speaking in the ancient tongue of his people.
"By the old ways of Mikros, I challenge the One-Horn for command of the Legions."
Hushed whispers filled the room. Such a challenge involved combat to the death.
"Then by the old ways it will be done," replied Emperor Myrcalus, speaking the ancient Draken dialect as if it was his own.
Each was stripped to the waist, and given a blade forged in the fires of Mount Crucible on planet Mikros. A space was cleared in the middle of the room. Kezrek and his commander faced one another, crouched like two feral beasts.
"Begin," said the emperor.
The fight was terrible to behold. Their blades flashed like lightning, thrusting and counter-thrusting, and soon, both were bleeding. Teeth were bared. Claws rent flesh. They were both taken by a primal bloodlust, slaves to the savage laws that had forged Draken warriors for millennia.
During their final exchange, a thunderous strike by Kezrek shattered Zarkuna's blade. The One-Horn fell to his knees as the Warbringer raised his blood-soaked blade. They locked eyes for the briefest of moments.
"Thank you, my friend," said the One-Horn. And then Kezrek cut off his head.
After the battle, Kezrek Warbringer was decreed Supreme Commander of the Dominion Legions, and he faithfully served that role ever since. The gilded skull of the One-Horn is mounted upon his pauldrons, a grim reminder of the terrible price of defeat.
[This extensive treatise on the culinary uses of snoglugs offers a number of fascinating recipes, including...]
Ingredients
1 clove verlag
3/8 tsp salt
1/2 cup softened butter
1-1/2 tsp galeronion
1 tb finely chopped teverleaves
1/4 tsp halicorns, ground
1 tbs white wine, dry
1 snoglug, cleaned, with scent glands removed
1 loaf bread
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Feed snoglug on galettuce or other neutral vegetables for at least three days to purge system of possible contaminants prior to slaughter.
Using a crowbar, remove snoglug from shell, being careful not to damage the meat. If possible, sterilize snoglug shell using industrial or culinary autoclave.
Mince/mash verlag with knife and combine with 1/8 tsp salt.
Combine butter, galeronion, minced/mashed verlag, teverleaves, remaining 1/4 tsp salt, and ground halicorns in small bowl until mixed. Beat in white wine and combine well.
Smear interior of snoglug shell with half of butter mixture.
Stuff snoglug into shell and top with remaining butter mixture.
Place snoglug in oven and bake for 18 minutes per pound. Allow snoglug to rest for 10 minutes before serving.
Enjoy!
[This battered volume seems to detail the myths and legends of Wilderrun, though very little fact is established based on the tall tales between the book's covers.
An excerpt reads...]
Wilderrun is fraught with peril, from the carnivorous plants that comb the jungle floor for unfortunate explorers, to the giant vesquettoes that can drain a man of blood in a handful of seconds. Many creatures call the sultry forest their home, and even those normally herbivorous creatures seem to crave the quivering flesh of sentients over the bitter and oftentimes poisonous leaves of the indigenous flora.
[Another excerpt reads...]
Legends state that a number of stone statues resembling the heads of giant Granok females - only prettier - were scattered throughout Wilderrun by the members of a razortail-worshipping cult of exceptional cruelty and viciousness. All who have reported such statues have disappeared without a trace, though it is commonly assumed they were killed by cultists or enraged monkeys...
[A final excerpt reads...]
Let us not forget the barbarous women that roam Wilderrun. Of all the jungle's denizens, they are perhaps the most dangerous. They survive on the flesh of male sentients, refusing to dine on captured females. Female sentients who are unfortunate enough to be abducted by these cruel harridans are instead fed to their pet pumera.
[This old book is marred by bloodstains, the cover displaying signs of damage from large teeth or claws. The author is listed as Dulonus Pola, a self-proclaimed "master of holistic medicine and animal-based curatives." Though the title alludes that the subject matter is confined to pumera bites, it also covers the (purported) pharmacological uses of the pumera's physiology.
The following chapter concerns first aid.]
"The survivability rate for victims of pumera bites is pitifully low. The saliva of pumera is rife with bacteria and germs, which leads to horrible infections that are typically fatal and unresponsive to medicines of any kind. Given the pumera's habit of cleaning its body with its tongue, this is hardly surprising. If bitten, victims should seek out medical attention immediately. Even if such help is found, victims should expect to expire, anyway. At this point, victims should endeavor to complete their last will and testament, and make suitable arrangements for their inevitable passing."
[Another section speaks of pumera whiskers:]
"Of all the parts of the pumera, the whiskers are the most valuable. When carefully snipped from the muzzle of a still-living pumera, such whiskers can be ground into a fine powder and mixed with equal parts snoglug slime and girrok bile. When consumed, this concoction will cure nearly any ailment, with the only exception being the septic infection resulting from a pumera bite.
(The Black Box contains a recording of the moments prior to the crash.)
DOON: This is Corrigan Doon to tower, I am ready for takeoff.
TOWER: What? No flight plan listed for Corrigan Doon. Wait! Get out of there!
DOON: It's a bright and sunny day, and I'm taking this little beauty for a spin.
TOWER: No, no, no! No civilians allowed in Dominion military vessels! Are you intoxicated?
DOON: Checklist complete. Let's fly!
TOWER: Did you - wait, you ARE intoxicated! Did you hack the breath analysis software? Get out of there!
DOON: Launching in five... four... three... two...
TOWER: Disengage!
DOON: One... and... engage. Whoooo-hoo, this baby can move! Wait a moment... I say there, should the sky be gray? And rushing right at me like that?
Jariel: The Archon
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After long discussions among the Orders we have decided to move forward with the Cassian Initiative. They are sufficiently advanced to have warranted our attention, and analysis indicates that they will be the perfect leaders for our new empire; one that will rule the galaxy until our great work here on Nexus is complete.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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We have completed our design for the Luminai Project, and now all that we require is a human specimen from which the hybrid organism will be created. After studying the list of acceptable candidates provided to us by the Mechari, I have chosen the female known as Tresayne Toria. Her strength, beauty, and fearlessness will make her the perfect "mother" for the new ruler of our galactic empire. I look forward to her imminent arrival.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Luminai hybrid known as Dominus has now completed his training with Tresayne Toria, and will soon leave for planet Cassus to rule. Despite my initial concerns about both the Cassian Initiative and the Luminai Project, I must admit that I am completely satisfied with their progress thus far. Dominus is truly an impressive creature, and I am certain that the Cassians will follow him without question. The age of the Dominion is now at hand.
HONOR FLIGHT RUBICON 4
REGISTERED SPECIAL PASSENGERS
Lt. Syrine Hart, Gold Legion (KIA)
SERVICE NUMBER: GL460557951
COMBAT ROLE: Tank Specialist
CAUSE OF DEATH: Enemy fire (anti-armor)
SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES: Drove Warbreaker 807 against entrenched Exile forces at the Battle of Arbus Creek and ultimately prevented the deaths of approximately [320] citizens. Enemy casualties as a direct result of Lt. Hart's actions estimated to number more than 140.
POSTHUMOUS HONORS AWARDED: Cassian Crescent, Imperial Order of Valor
ADDITIONAL HONORS: Warbreaker 807 recovered from battlefield for display in the Royal History Museum on Cassus.
ALSO ABOARD: Jost Hart (WIDOWER)
Cpl. Titus Tarios, Gold Legion (KIA)
SERVICE NUMBER: GH383193675
COMBAT ROLE: Heavy Weapons Operator
CAUSE OF DEATH: Enemy fire (anti-armor)
SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES: Operated primary weapons systems onboard Warbreaker 807, eliminating entrenched Exile forces at the Battle of Arbus Creek and ultimately preventing the deaths of approximately [320] citizens. Enemy casualties as a direct result of WB807 estimated at more than 140 including 112 fatalities.
POSTHUMOUS HONORS AWARDED: Luminai Star, Imperial Order of Valor
ADDITIONAL HONORS: Warbreaker 807 recovered from battlefield for display in the Royal History Museum on Cassus.
ALSO ABOARD: Giselle Tarios (WIDOWER)
Cpl. Gulis Tavusin, Gold Legion (KIA)
SERVICE NUMBER: GH721193250
COMBAT ROLE: Infantry
CAUSE OF DEATH: Enemy fire (small arms, artillery, anti-armor)
SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES: Valiant actions in combat prevented the deaths of approximately [320] citizens of the Dominion at the Battle of Arbus Creek. Volunteered for extraction team to rescue crew of WB807 when unit hit after assaulting Exile forces. Flanked enemy position, allowing remainder of team to retrieve bodies of the dead for burial.
POSTHUMOUS HONORS AWARDED: Luminai Star, Imperial Order of Valor
ADDITIONAL HONORS: Holo-image added to Heroes of the Dominion display at the Royal Museum of Culture on Cassus.
ALSO ABOARD: Endiri Tavusin (WIDOW)
[An excerpted recipe from a self-published cookbook that contains complex recipes well beyond the abilities of most ordinary chefs. Many of the ingredients described cannot even be found on Nexus, and some have been extinct for many centuries. Ivanna seems to enjoy a cooking challenge.]
IVANNA'S DEADLY SOUFFLÉ
2 royalspoons finely grated tynes
1 scupper whole mammodin milk
2.5 royalspoons girrok butter
3 royalspoons refined Cassian millgrind
0.5 commonspoon kartiffe
0.5 commonspoon smalt
Pinch of ground znarlu root
5 large wild ravenok eggs (fresh)
1 scupper coarse-grated Jeleb cheese
0.2 commonspoon hellpepper
Spread the prepared girrok butter in a metal soufflé dish with a spatula. Add millgrind and kartiffe to the butter.
Separate the eggs, and in a separate bowl, beat the whites with the tynes and Jeleb cheese.
Spread this mixture over the prepared butter and spice mixture to create an entirely new mixture.
Beat the egg yolks and the zarlu root until creamy.
Bake in a moderately hot oven for 12 minutes.
Serve immediately.
Inform guests of hellpepper ingredient after consumption.
Pass out antidote to hellpepper poison before death ensues.
A slight delay in dessert service is recommended.
[A worn copy of the famed romantic adventure story about a Cassian lowborn child and his pet chompacabra. This excerpt follows the surprising events of the story's climax.]
Terren could hardly believe his eyes. He'd never seen so much blood in all his young life! And to think, just a single chompacabra did all that - his pal Nompy, the wild beast who'd befriended a slightly disturbed boy in the woods near the family estate. Nompy was a chompacabra who called Terren a friend, in his own growling, homicidal way; and definitely not with actual words so much. It was just something Terren felt deep down. Especially when he saw the carnage and slaughter his new best friend had wrought upon his enemies.
What luck father had chosen to bring their family to Nexus, where the chompacabra runs wild, free, and unbelievably deadly on the surface of the planet. And even better luck that Terren had gotten lost the second day after their arrival, nearly starving to death as he wandered, lost and alone - until a chompacabra found him, kept him warm and safe, and even shared food with him. Really disgusting, terrible food, but it had kept young Terren alive. That chompacabra had followed him home, and subsequently followed him on countless adventures.
And STILL Terren had never seen so much blood! He ran to find his holo-camera. He loved Nompy so very much.
They made fun of his chompacabra? He would make fun of their innards! Except Nompy'd already eaten them.
[This journal comprises the last words of Captain Phillip Aurelius. They are noble and courageous, just as he was.]
Recon Patrol 3.1
2300 Hours
Captain Phillip Aurelius recording. Engagement with the Exile invaders is no longer a matter of "if" but of "when." Whitevale is not big enough, to use a colloquialism, for the both of us. Only one faction will be in charge of this region eventually, and the traitors seem to be champing at the bloody bit.
Recon Patrol 3.2
2350 Hours
Captain Phillip Aurelius recording. Engagement did not go well, I'm afraid. Not that I intended to take on half the Exile Free Companies with my service weapon and the odd bits of string from my pockets. Sustained minor injuries. I think. Might be bleeding internally. Datachron took a shot so can't scan to be sure.
Yes, there was... definitely interna - internal bleeding. By the Scions, this hurts.
TO: The Warden
FROM: Gruk
RE: The Specifical Disposition of Gruk
SEE ALSO: Specifical Testimony RE: Gruk
Hi Warden. This is Gruk. Ya gone and left me stuck here in Deadrock for slag knows how long, but I wasn't even doing nothing wrong when ya caught me! I was just saying hello to some friends who just HAPPEN to be in the F-Troop or whatever they call themselves, ya know, none of my concern. Gruk? Just a miner. Independent type! I'm no Exile. I mean, what? Exile? Who would even think that? I just knew those guys, and was catching up, like I said.
So there ya have it, Warden. Clear testimonial-type stuff. That's gotta hold water with the review board. Ya got one of those?
In closing,
Sincerely,
Gruk the Granok Who Ain't an Exile
So shut up, youse. I mean, Warden.
[This document appears to be a copy of the daily schedule of the warden of Deadrock Prison, and the disposition of guards and other security measures - including securitybots - on a weekly basis.]
0000: Guard Shift B-1 Begins
0130: Warden on premises
0215 Guard Shift A-1 Ends
0400: Guard Shift C-1 Begins
0615 Guard shift B-1 Ends.
0800 Guard Shift D-1 Begins
1015 Guard Shift C-1 Ends
1200 Guard Shift A-2 Begins
RANDOM SEARCH SCHEDULE
0227 - Block TF3
0747 - Block TF3
0812- Block TF3
1013 - Block TF3
[The back of the document is covered with bloody scratches that form a crude map of the prison grounds, with marks indicating specific targets within the prison infrastructure. Whoever made the map did not likely have access to traditional writing implements.]
[A popular periodical among prospective Lopp brides, as might be expected.]
Vol. 28 Issue 3
TABLE OF CONTENTS so shiny
Page 004 ..... Shiniest Shinies of the Season!
Page 008 ..... Shinies: Are They Really EVERYthing? (Spoiler: YES!)
Page 010 ..... Editorial: Lopp Brides Too Focused on Shinies? (Spoiler: NO!)
Page 022 ..... FICTION: I Married a Marauder! Harrowing story of love gone wrong! Will bride escape marauder groom with shinies anyway? (Spoiler: PROBABLY!)
[...]
[This lengthy but uncomplicated ballad sung from the point of view of the lovelorn Skeech Queen could not be more accurately titled.]
Skeech Skeech me Skeech
SKEECH Skeech Skeech love Skeech
Skeech me Skeech love
Skeech you Skeech me
Skeech dream Skeech love Skeech heart
Skeech Skeech you Skeech
SKEECH love Skeech heart Skeech
Skeech love Skeech you
Skeech me Skeech true
Skeech break Skeech heart Skeech queen
Skeech home Skeech hearth
Skeech Skeech love Skeech you
Skeech me Skeech too
Skeech to me and you
Skeech Skeech Skeech Skeech Skeech queen
Skeech SKEECH!
[A well-worn vintage issue of the widely read spacer's favorite. Contents not recommended for small children, grown adults, or seniors - not that that's ever stopped the curious from opening the book. It easily falls open to the letters page.]
SCRIBBLIN'S 'N' MISSIVES PAGE
Dear MQToRD,
Longtime reader, first-time correspondent. Been a fan o' yer fine publication goin' on thirteen years, I make it, and naturally me first stop in each issue be yon Scribblin's 'n' Missives. Yet despite me fondness for the stories contained therein, I never thought the followin' might happen to an Eeklu like me.
'Twere the beginnin' of another cruise, pillagin', lootin', and generally inducin' mayhem out on the Fringe. Prizes'd been gettin' a might thin, as it were, and me crew were growin' surly when we heard the ping of an expensive-soundin' emergency beacon. We replied usin' one o' the diplobots we keep 'round for such purposes - somethin' about me way with words tips lubbers off, it seems - and couldn't believe our luck when we got a holo-transmission in reply.
Three o' the comeliest beauties it were ever me pleasure to lay me peepers on flickered to life on the viewscreen, wearin' clothin' that made a high-cut, clingin' mockery o' the term space suits.
[To the surprise of the author, but most certainly not the average reader, the ensuing erotic adventures take several questionable turns before the female crew of the Marauder's "prize" reveal themselves to be pirates as well. The "Ladies Luck," as they collectively call themselves, slaughter the Marauder crew, leaving only the letter-writer alive on an escape pod after another romp that, at this point, feels tacked-on.]
[This cover proclaims this handy guide to picking up females of all species is the work of the self-proclaimed "Sexiest Granok Alive On Nexus" - the "one and only KRAG STUDROK!"]
ALWAYS. BE. CLOSING.
Ya think Krag Studrok always rocked this hard? Well, ya'd be right, pal! And that's 'cause your buddy Krag Studrok is ALWAYS closin' the deal! Other guys? They start slow. Get to know a lady. Show an interest. Pretend to listen to whatever. NOT THE 'ROK! The first words outta my mouth every time I meet a woman what ain't met the 'ROK is "You and me, doll. Whaddaya say?"
And I say it exactly like that. Ya get me? Ya gotta let 'em know ya got nothin' else on your mind but THEM.
The ladies? They don't care if ya listen or not. They don't come up to KRAG STUDROK for the conversation, know what I'm sayin'?
[As the guide continues, it becomes clear that it is not a collection of tips so much as a long, poorly punctuated self-hagiography of the author.]
[...]
[An excerpt from the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.]
"We have to hide in the ship's hold, I reckon," Brad said. "We done run out of places to hide."
"And trap our damn selves?" Marklin snarled back. "Getting cornered is just a shameful way to die. I say we charge the bastards. Take the fights straight to 'em."
"You're going to need this torch, darling," Helena said to Brad, handing him the flaming brand and leaning in to kiss him desperately.
Beyond the darkened windows, the squirg zombies groaned and roared, waiting impatiently for their next meal.
[...]
[An excerpt from the sequel to the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.]
The Protostar facility was deathly quiet, except for the dull roar of shuffling, mumbling squirg zombies. They filled the lower floor of the shopping center, occasionally lashing out at each other or store mannequins, but otherwise ignoring the trio who watched from the upper level with bated breath.
Captain Nerik waved to get Lieutenant Tenzo's attention from the other side of the facility and signaled that he was descending into the pit. He motioned toward a weapons shop that appeared to have been closed when the squirg outbreak hit. If Tenzo could draw them away, Nerik indicated with hand signals, then Nerik could make it to the shop, grab an armload of ammunition and weapons, and get back before the squirg were aware.
Tenzo nodded. It wasn't going to be easy, Nerik thought, but they really had no choice. He nodded in return and shot a quick salute at his fellow Draken warrior. Tenzo roared at the squirg zombie mob, who turned as one and charged the lieutenant's position.
[...]
[An excerpt from the sequel to the sequel to the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.]
"I am the one in charge here, Commander! And don't you forget it!" roared the virologist. "Only Mordesh alchemy can save this planet from being completely overrun by the squirg."
"This planet already IS overrun, Doctor!" the Granok barked. "This world is lost. It's Squirgville out there, population EVERYONE. Everyone except us mercs and you eggheads." He racked a shell into the chamber of his heavy slug launcher. "And I dunno about you, Doc, but I'm gettin' pretty sick'a this place. Whaddaya say we blast our way outta here?"
The merc never saw the squirg that dropped from the ceiling onto his cranium, not until its tentacles latched onto his face and the tiny internal fangs punctured his stony skull to penetrate the consciousness centers of his brain. He managed a sound like "Gyugh" before his eyes rolled back and his posture took on the unmistakable profile of a massive squirg zombie.
The doctor screamed.
[...]
[This excerpt from a popular military fiction novel depicts the do-or-die troops of the Dominion's fictional Lost Legion, an all-volunteer lowborn "suicide squad" who carry out impossible missions on behalf of the most powerful leaders of the Dominion.]
"You picked the wrong day to attack the planet Cassus, guv," Sergeant Stone said, chuckling as he lit stogie - a habit he'd picked up during the Seventh War of Gnox. "And y'really shouldn't've left such an easy trail to follow. Why, me and the boys just couldn't resist. Y'think you little tree-slanks're the only ones that can track somebody? I think you've hurt Bub's feelin's, so y'have." He turned to the hulking lowborn Cassian private in the corner. "Ain't that right, Bub?"
"Sure is, Stone," Bub said on cue. "Why, me feelin's might never recover."
"And what do you have planned?" asked the Aurin, jutting out his chin in a sad attempt to hide the fear that was making his tail shake like an Ophidian rattler.
"Who, us?" Stone replied, punctuating the question with a few smoke rings blown into the prisoner's face. "Why, we're plannin' nothin' but gettin' outta her way." He jerked a thumb over one shoulder, and a Mechari female slipped from the shadows. Her eyes flashed with cold fire.
"Thank you, Agent," Axis Pheydra said. "I believe I can take it from here." She saluted. "My best to the general."
"As always, m'lady," the sergeant replied.
[...]
[This informative Protostar manual published by Protostar Books is a useful how-to guide for prospective sychophants, toadies, and yes-beings.]
-Never let them see you sweat!
Sweating is not possible for a Protostar clone, as Protostar clones DO NOT POSSESS SWEAT GLANDS! Therefore, perspiration of any kind is unacceptable.
-Set realistic goals!
And then, make unrealistic promises about how you'll deliver on them ahead of time! This will keep your manager guessing, and managers love guessing.
-Anticipate your manager's expectations and act accordingly!
In addition to frequent rescheduling and the prompt delivery of stimulant-riddled Protostar beverages, this may also include self-termination. Don't wait to be asked - fire yourself today!
[...]
[This informative Protostar manual published by Protostar Books is a useful how-to guide for those who wish to encourage alliances between hostile species. Protostar analysts believe this volume's surprising popularity may be due to a common, but egregious, misunderstanding of the title by lonely and curious human males.]
STEP ONE: Dress to impress! You will find a standard Protostar employee uniform conveys with market-tested certainty that you are a clone on the go. Protostar standard employee uniforms - the first step in every first contact marketing situation!
STEP TWO: Know your exchange rates! Personality templates can only imprint current pricing structures in the galaxy. Download a market patch daily, or face recycling! Only then can you represent Protostar's superior products and services to previously unknown species.
STEP THREE: Smile! It goes a long way. It's also mandatory!
[...]
[This Pell ode to the power of Primal Water appears to be somewhat incomplete.]
Hydris calls through hill and dale,
Hydris, embrace your children.
Your children who drink of the sacred waters,
Your children who call your name in return.
Hydris sings, over sea and stream,
Hydris, reveal your dreaming.
Your dreaming light of rivers and rain,
Snow and ice.
Hydris lords over sky and earth,
Hydris, destroy your enemies.
Your foes who number many,
Your foes who will fail and
[...]
[An apparently completely ignored list of procedures intended to ensure that anything stored in Deepfreeze Containment stays in Deepfreeze Containment.]
GENERAL ORDER 001: Under no circumstances should the contents of Deepfreeze Containment be released without establishing safety protocols.
GENERAL ORDER 002: See General Order 001.
GENERAL ORDER 003: There is no General Order 003.
[...]
Captain Caeson Aurelius stood on the bridge of his flagship, the Radiant, his command screen dominated by the swirling, red planet of Quorin Prime. The Dominion armada had found its prey. Outnumbered and outgunned, the battered rebel fleet of the traitorous Serrick Brightland, his previous commander and mentor, clustered together on the far side of the planet.
Brightland was using a classic tactic: hiding his fleet in the gravity well of the planet. It was a maneuver Caeson knew well, one he had learned from Brightland himself. After their last skirmish, the rebel fleet was in desperate need of repairs, but Caeson had tracked them down before they were able to complete them.
On Caeson's command, coruscating weapons-fire lit up the skies, systematically wearing down the enemy's shields. As the Exiles struggled to return fire, Caeson watched a crippled ship decay from orbit, trailing fire as it fell toward the planet's surface. The timing was perfect. Victory was inevitable.
The Exiles began their retreat, and the Dominion pursued them. Aurelius knew that the planet's gravity well made jumping to hyperspeed impossible, and the empire's attack ships would be well in range before the rebels could reach safe distance.
But just as Aurelius prepared to target the fleeing vessels, Brightland turned his warship and set a course directly for the Radiant itself.
Aurelius's armada unleashed every battery and cannon it had in response, engulfing the approaching ship in ghostly zero-g flame. Behind it, Exile starship spindrives flashed one by one, leaving their leader alone and undefended. Brightland's suicidal maneuver had saved the remaining rebel ships, but his imminent death would mean an end to their pathetic rebellion. Caeson's armada could easily hunt down rebel stragglers once this final deed was done.
Despite taking heavy damage, Brightland's ship relentlessly continued its collision course with the Radiant. Caeson fired his full arsenal on the approaching ship, destroying its few remaining defenses. In the midst of the violent barrage, Aurelius received an incoming call: Brightland was hailing him.
The image of his mentor appeared on the command screen. He was obviously wounded, leaning heavily upon his ship's navigation console, coughing and spitting blood.
"This is not over... Aurelius."
The Dominion captain stoically regarded his old friend and mentor, burying the visceral pain caused by his betrayal.
"It is for you, traitor."
Chunks of hull plating flew from the two ships as they hurtled toward impact. Aurelius ordered his men to stay the course, prepared to die in order to ensure Brightland's death. But just before the two ships collided, the rebel warship jumped into hyperspace and was gone.
Aurelius cried out in rage. The traitor's desperate gamble had worked.
Furious, Caeson Aurelius swore an oath. His family would not rest until they had eliminated the last vestiges of Brightland's traitorous rebellion, even if it took them a thousand years or more.
Far-Trader Diki crept into the dim subterranean chamber. He was in the legendary Temple of Dak-Buun, where no Lopp had ever walked before.
Raising a glowstick, he studied the chamber. Upon the far wall, there was a vibrant painting of a fantastical blue spirit, surrounded by kneeling Lopp, with inset gems appearing to rain down upon them. The floor leading up to the painting was a complex grid of colorful tiles.
Sensing a trap, Diki inched forward. He had already survived the Corridor of a Thousand K nives, the Chamber of Flame, and the Labyrinth of Whirling Blades. One false step, and he was certain something bad would happen.
He scrutinized the floor tiles. They formed a pattern he had seen long ago on the ancient Tapestry of Raatha-Shugg, woven to display the stars of Lagos. But which tiles were safe? Of course! Those that represented the constellation of Oonga, Hunter of Shinies! His tiny Lopp feet danced across the floor, bouncing from one safe tile to the next. Soon he was across the room, sta nding before a massive, ornate archway.
Suddenly, the chamber echoed with the sound of heavy footsteps. Like many Lopp, he was never without his faithful kurg, Shaggy, and the bulky beast had somehow managed to follow him into the temple. Looking back, Diki saw the curious kurg poking his snout into the chamber.
"Shaggy, no!" he shouted. "Room is dangerous. Very, very dangerous!"
Diki took cover as the kurg crashed into the room. Its big paw stomped on several tiles, and the walls shook. Diki da shed through the archway, hoping that Shaggy would survive the trap and follow him into the next chamber.
Diki turned to see the room behind him collapse violently. Shaggy was nowhere to be seen! Sadness overwhelmed the tiny Lopp, but he couldn't turn back now.
Ahead of him, illuminated by a single shaft of light, was the prize he sought. The shiniest of shinies. The iridescent pearl known as the Relic of Dak-Buun! Still grieving for his lost friend, he approached it, hoping against hope that the le gends were true. With a trembling paw, he rubbed its surface.
A brilliant light suffused the room, and a magnificent spectral entity rose from the pearl. The legendary spirit Dak-Buun!
"FINALLY! I AM FREE! I WILL THANK YOU BY GRANTING ONE WISH!"
Diki fell to his knees. "Dak-Buun!" he implored. "Diki beseeches you! More than fame or fortune or shinies, Diki wants one thing. Diki wants his beloved kurg back!"
The room shook with a thunderous rumble. He looked back to see Shaggy wriggle his way ou t from under a pile of rubble. Barreling forward, it gleefully knocked Diki to the ground.
"My kurg!" Diki shouted. "Shaggy lives!"
"YOUR WISH HAS BEEN GRANTED!" intoned Dak-Buun.
"Very, very good!" said Diki.
Dak-Buun beamed with joy. "AND MY WISH HAS BEEN GRANTED! AS WE ARE TRAPPED HERE, I NOW HAVE SOMEONE TO TALK TO FOR ETERNITY!"
As the light of his glowstick began to fade, Diki contemplated his next adventure: escaping from the legendary Temple of Dak-Buun!
Subject 33 woke up in a tank full of fluid. He reflexively thrashed, kicking as though he was drowning. Oxygenated fluid seeped into his lungs. 33 struggled to breathe, drifting in a haze of fear and adrenaline.
Cloudy memories drifted past: hunting in Whitevale, a flash of light, and a long, cold darkness.
33 couldn't recognize the murky forms stalking past his transparent tank. As his eyes adjusted, he could see spacesuits and helmets. He drifted to the edge until he could barely make out a face. B ehind its visor, it methodically gnashed rows of razor-sharp teeth.
The murky fluid conducted sounds from outside the tank. His long Aurin ears perked up. Footfalls marched past, as he strained to hear his captors' cold, clinical voices.
"Evaluation: adrenaline levels exceed parameters."
"Suggestion: remove brain stem for further analysis."
Subject 33 started kicking the side of the tank.
"Observation: subject of limited intelligence. Panic reflex. Prepare first experiment."
They had go ne and done something very foolish.
"Confirmation: first intelligence experiment begins now."
They had put an angry esper in a tank full of water.
33's mind screamed. Outside the walls, a massive psychokinetic fist pounded the floor, and the walls of his tank shattered. Shards of glass blasted out in every direction. Surging fluids gushed out of the tank, as his captors struggled to stay upright.
He leapt out feet first, smashing into the nearest creature's translucent helmet. Spiderweb crack s formed on the surface. As he prepared for his next leap, he looked his enemy in the eye. He could almost see fear. Almost.
One by one the wasp-waisted humanoids slowly turned to evaluate him. One creature slowly reached for its weapon, and the Aurin furrowed his brow. Would they stun him? Was that an electroprod? That gave him an idea.
Subject 33 leapt to a hatch on the wall, grabbed the valve that opened it, and held on. With a thought, he hurled a psychic blade across the room, connecting with an electrical panel. A sparking metal box dropped to the ground. Hip-deep in water, his captors twitched like ragdolls shaken in a dagun's mouth.
33 spun the valve until the hatch opened and tumbled through. Straight ahead, red lights flashed in a long corridor. Through an aperture at the far end, he could see outside. Blue sky. White clouds. Calm waters. Freedom.
Subject 33 ran. Turrets in the walls and ceiling rained fiery death, missing him by inches. The Aurin ran faster.
A calm, alien voice made a stern announcement over an intercom. "Observation: Aurin subject escaping." 33 took in a deep breath of fresh sea air as he leapt toward the aperture.
Steel shutters dropped. The exit slammed shut. He fell to the ground.
The voice returned. "Verification: performance test concluded. Capture and prepare for vivisection. Subject 33 may still be of use to the Ikthian Empire."
Blades flashed. The lights went out. The experiment continued.
It'd be an understatement to say that this has been a really crappy week.
The cargo we picked up at Vespa was contaminated with... something. No one seems to know what, only that it makes folks sick. I mean, really sick. Doc Cordwain seems to think he can cure it with the medical supplies we have on board. That's probably the best news I've had all day.
There's a slight problem with Doc Cordwain's plan.
You see, Ensign Bardlet's locked himself in the med bay. He won't come out, and he's overridden the security protocols. Bardlet's convinced that he'll become infected and end up dead - or worse - if he lets us inside.
If I can't convince Bardlet to open the med bay, things are only going to get more severe. And if he does let us in, I'll probably shoot him on general principles for being such a moron.
Bardlet's still in there, and sick folks have started dying. What's worse, the infection seems to create some kind of alien parasite. You die, you burst, and out comes a terrible alien THING.
I'm not feeling real well. I'm pretty sure I'm a carrier now. I begged Bardlet for help, but he ignored me. He's not sick, so he must've used some of our med supplies on himself. The greedy bastard's going to come through this without a scratch, mark my words... unless the things get in there and tear him up.
I can feel it moving inside me. I should've stayed on Gateway... a nice, cushy office job, no aliens, no nutty ensigns... oh, well.
Doc Cordwain is dead. I killed the thing that crawled out of him, but there are more... so many more. The ship's systems are functioning erratically. The containment shields aren't stable.
I'm not going to let this thing kill me. I'll kill myself, first. Seems to be the best way to go, anyway. Cordwain's death was... unpleasant.
Navigator forgive me, and damn Bardlet to the void!
Captain Lairdell, signing off.
(This ship's manifest lists a number of items being loaded onto the ship at a port referred to as "Vespa.")
2 cases Aurin salt licks
22 cartons aged cheese-wine (Draken)
12 cases Gnoxian stout (QM's Note: Better make that 11 cases, heh)
1.2 tons misc. luxury goods (QM's Note: Mostly underclothes, Chua sizes only)
1 box spherical objects (QM's Note: These look like eggs or something - do they need refrigeration?)
4 crates "Skinny James" meat snacks
201 entertainment cassettes (QM's Note: Various titles, mostly romantic comedy)
(The cargo manifest ends abruptly.)
Quartermaster Lipton reported to me this morning. While tallying cargo from Port Vespa, he dropped a container of spherical objects. Several of the objects burst, and Lipton inhaled whatever they contained. Ran usual toxin screen - no results. Assigned Lipton to bed rest until his nausea subsides.
(later)
Lipton's back and he's sicker than ever. Nausea is worse, and he can't stop vomiting, even when there shouldn't be anything left for his system to purge. I don't know where it's coming from. I feel bad for the guy. Will prescribe anti-nausea meds and prep him for a blood cleansing.
(later)
Bardlet was just in here, raving about people being sick. He seems distraught, so I'll leave him here to calm down while I go check on Lipton's status.
(The medical log ends suddenly.)
[This hand-written scroll contains a blunt assessment on which alien species make the best slaves for Osun purposes.]
Humans.
Wretched fleshlings. Versatile. Smart. Serve better when dumbed down. Good basic combatants for the pits.
Draken.
Mighty. Worthy! Many have died in the pits. Many more will be slaughtered before we are through.
Granok.
Strong. Tough! Many are also dead in the pits, but many and more survive. Soon we must test them against a true Osun warrior!
Aurin.
Little more than vermin. But hardy vermin. Climbers. Hunters. Useful vermin. Many survive in the pits for longer than expected.
Mordesh.
Abominations! Hard to kill - until their goo runs out. Then they turn savage. Very messy when they die in the pits. THEN they get even more interesting...
Mechari.
To turn the makers greatest tool against their favored children is to return Osun honor! Watch them torn apart in the pits!
Chua.
Good cannon fodder. Good for retrieving items from small holes. Good to eat. Roasted on spit is the best. Season with heart of fiera flower and salt. Entertaining in the pits - they are fast as Aurin, and clever as jabbits.
Lopp.
Same as Chua, but add root vegetables to skewer. Nearly worthless in the pits, save the one called the Marshal.
Oghra.
Stringy, but flexible. Accurate. Seem at home in the pits.
Grund.
Durable. Stupid even before the Rot. Smell of old food. Very hard to kill, they last long in the pits.
Eeklu.
Look like Chua, but not as meaty. Can float. More powerful than they look. Some resist the Rot. Take great pleasure in killing in the pits, but some escape. Unacceptable.
Skeech.
Little. Blue. Different. Will fight anything. Will eat anything. Surprisingly cunning, last longer in pits than expected.
[An abandoned journal describing a Granok explorer's discovery of Kel Voreth. Her camp appears to have been abruptly abandoned some time ago.]
Recording start. Start, damn it! You started? Good. Lousy, cheap, no-good piece of machinery. But it beats tryin' to type. Wish I'd had enough for the holocam model, but ya get what ya can afford to pay for.
So this is Jexine of the Explorers Union, recording - ya still - yeah, okay - recording the find of - well, of a lifetime. I have never seen anything like this. No one has. Well, okay, Thayd. Everyone knows about Thayd. Osun city us Exiles found and set up as a capitol. Needs better taverns if ya ask me, but ya didn't, because you're a recorder and I'm wastin' power. Where was - yeah, Jexine. That's me. Now ya can't see me, so I'll just point out I'm about two-and-a-half meters' worth'a Granok woman that ya don't wanna mess with, which is one'a the things that's made me such an effective explorer, ya ask me. Like there was that time I was tryin' to scale a strange-lookin' mountain when I first got here and climbed to the top, only to realize I was standin' on top of a giant robot head! Eh, planted a flag anyway. Ya never know.
Where was I again? Osun! You guys will literally not believe this. And I mean that. I bet you really won't. But I'm here to tell ya there is a full-on fully functionin' and thrivin' and smolderin' and smokin' Osun fortress filled with those giants lumberin' bastards. It's called Kel Voreth, near as I can tell from the writin', which is way too much like ol' Cassian for my taste.
Kel Voreth's out Auroria way, but it's a bit early to send in a peace envoy to see if we can get 'em to turn against the Dommies. Ya ask me, and I know ya didn't, they hate all of us. Hell, they told me as much when I met 'em. But then one'a their females brought out a round'a some pretty foul-tastin' hooch that did a number on me all the same. In fact, gettin' a little... groggy.
Anyhoo, this might be my last entry. Last entry for the night. Why'd I say... I dunno. Maybe I'll feel like doin' my own thing, soon, but right now all I want to do is... stand... here. I must wait... for her. She will command... she will provide... will... free will... it is lies.
If you hear this. Read... this. Go. I am Jex... Jex... I am... I am. I do not. I. Am not.
Go. No. Further.
Idiots.
To forge the perfect slavemaster required the fires of old. The fires of Kel Voreth. Only in this sacred and ancient place will the Osun be reborn as conquerors of Nexus once more. Only in Kel Voreth may Osun smiths create a body for a being as perfect as Slavemaster Drokk. And only I, Forgemaster Trogun, understand the secrets of transforming the constructs of the makers into armor for the soul of the fiercest Osun!
Yea, only the sacrifice of a great Osun slavemaster is worthy of that immortal frame - and Drokk the Malevolent, scourge of the Makers, shall be that Osun! Drokk the Furious, who slew the Disciples of Fire when they tried to take what was ours. Drokk the Invincible, who tore through the invaders with hammer and axe, striking down the people of stone and the tiny fleshlings alike in clouds of blood and gore.
"But what if the process drives him mad?" some asked. "What price this indestructible slave master?"
And now the answer. What price indeed? A few lesser warriors. Fleshlings. Broken machines of the Makers. Yet clearly it was worth it. He is... magnificent.
He will keep the slaves of Kel Voreth in line, and rule over the Blood Pits. He shall be the first of an army of metal giants with the furious souls of Osun and the indestructible bodies forged from the secrets of the Makers themselves. And when the Osun of Kel Voreth are ready to rise up and scour the surface of Nexus, throwing their battle-tested slaves onto the front lines, it will be Slavemaster Drokk who shall lead them!
Trogun
Exanite! It is the single most glorious word I have ever heard. It is a word of the Makers, but it now belongs to the Osun of Voreth. And only I, Trogun, know the secrets of forging it into weapons and armor of terrible strength and power!
The offworlders and outsiders know not of exanite, but they will learn. They will learn at the hands of mighty Osun warriors wielding unbreakable blades, hammers that can shatter the very bones of the earth, and clad in shield and plate that will never shatter.
Perhaps the fools believe they too can be masters of this holy metal. Perhaps they hope to steal its secrets away from me, from the Voreth Osun, from the Makers themselves. They are welcome to try. The pits thirst for new blood, and the souls of fleshlings who dare enter the sacred fortress of Kel Voreth will pay the price.
There are those among us, heretics and traitors, who claim I, Trogun, do not truly understand the secrets of exanite. Those who call me fraud or deceiver. They claim it is the elementals of Voreth who truly forge the exanite. They say the forgemaster is nothing without his elemental masters. They are liars all! I, Trogun, am in control. The elemental demons of Voreth serve me, and me alone. They are slaves of the Osun, just as all interlopers on this world shall be when we are done.
So swears Trogun, Forgemaster of Kel Voreth!
[This diary details the capture of Sharna, a Draken female who was the sole survivor of an Osun attack on her village. She has been fighting in the Blood Pits so long, she had time to compile this document between matches. Her current fate is not indicated within the text.]
I thought the Osun to be great warriors. Enemies, yes, but enemies to be admired. Fierce and strong.
The Osun are cowards and thieves.
My village was just beginning. A small gift of land from the emperor on this strange Eldan world. We hunted the prey of this new wilderness eagerly, and thanked the gods of old for this bounty. Then the Osun came. There was no honor in these creatures, no thirst for the hunt. They only sought to conquer and kill with no purpose but blood.
I may be the only survivor. I do not know. All I know is the Osun took me, broken and injured but still defiant, and threw me into this pit. And since then I kill every day to stay alive. Not for prey, as a Draken should, but for the amusement of these gray giants. They will die swiftly for this.
I marked the days when I first arrived, but for naught. The Osun took sick joy in finding and destroying the marks when they threw me into the pit to fight for them. If I had to guess, I would say years. If I had to trust senses, it may have only been days.
And so I fight. Dumb beasts, other slaves - for that is all I am, I see that now - and I slay them all. The Osun do not allow surrender in the Blood Pits.
The last battle on Arboria was a nightmare. So many of us didn't make it to the ships, so many more stayed behind to cover our escape. Arwick led the resistance to the very end, until the queen ordered him to get aboard the escape craft. It was then that I, too, left my home. I was just as frustrated as Arwick seemed to be, but the queen had given us orders. What else could we do? We had to leave or face death on our homeworld.
And then the place we went next - the ships of the Exile Fleet - was a nightmare, at least at first. Unless you are an Aurin, you probably can't understand what it feels like to leave the soil of Arboria behind for a vacuum sealed metal can in cold outer space. But even the fleet was not without some connection to our home. The agriculture ships that kept everyone alive were in trouble, and it turns out we Aurin could help. That was how we thanked the humans for getting us off the planet, but I still wonder if we made the right choice. After all, would the Dominion ever have found us if the humans hadn't first?
As the queen says, that line of thought is like a weed that puts deep roots down in your heart. It will only grow into a tree of hate, and I have to save my hate for the ones truly responsible for the destruction I witnessed on Arboria: the Dominion.
And so we are here, on Nexus at last. I've been invited to join the queen's entourage for the landing in Everstar Grove. I'm looking forward to having soil and grass beneath my feet again. It's been far too long.
[The rest of this personal journal is unfinished. It appears this Aurin's journey ended once and for all on Nexus.]
OUTBREAK LEVEL 1: Contagion Reported/No Physical Evidence
A Level 1 outbreak is the simplest form of outbreak to manage safely. A Level 1 outbreak may simply be an erroneous report.
Recommended Response: Investigation by ordinary authorities employing hazardous material gear to check validity of the report.
OUTBREAK LEVEL 2: Confirmed Contagion/Less than 5 Infected
A Level 2 outbreak is to be taken seriously and can quickly lead to a higher-level situation.
Recommended Response: A Reaper team (minimum 2) should proceed immediately to the site of the outbreak and eliminate infected individuals and confirm no Contagion remains present.
OUTBREAK LEVEL 3: Confirmed Contagion/More than 5 Infected
A Level 3 outbreak is of immediate concern to all surrounding communities. Chance for exponential infection among remaining Mordesh nears 100%.
Recommended Response: A full Reaper team (minimum 6) must eliminate the infected individuals and capture potential infected for observation. Any sign of further infection must be dealt with immediately and lethally. The area must then be quarantined to non-Mordesh for six standard months.
OUTBREAK LEVEL 4: Confirmed Contagion/1 or More Communities Infected
A Level 4 outbreak requires an immediate military response per the Exile Accords.
Recommended Response: A military air strike must be ordered immediately with the express goal of wiping out the localized area of outbreak. Reaper teams may not be dispatched until FCON completes this operation and confirms no life signs at site. Then a full Reaper team MUST confirm outbreak has been eliminated. A quarantine must then be observed for one standard year.
OUTBREAK LEVEL 5: Confirmed Contagion/Landmass Infected
A Level 5 outbreak is the second-worst type on record. If all Mordesh on a landmass (island or continent) are confirmed to be infected, the entire landmass must be considered lost.
Recommended Response: Orbital bombardment of landmass with weapons of mass destruction. Reaper teams may not be dispatched until FCON completes this operation and confirms no life signs. Four full Reaper teams MUST confirm outbreak has been eliminated. Landmass is to then be quarantined for five standard years with no life forms of any kind allowed to escape.
OUTBREAK LEVEL 6: Confirmed Contagion/Planet Infected
A Level 6 outbreak is the worst type on record. If all Mordesh on a planet are confirmed infected, the planet must be considered lost.
Recommended Response: Planetary evacuation of non-Mordesh and non-infected followed by full orbital bombardment of landmass with weapons of mass destruction. Planet is to then be permanently quarantined to all species with no life forms of any kind allowed to escape.
A Message from the Doctor
Fellow Mordesh, some of you may despise me. You are not alone. Not even I can forgive myself for the creation of the Contagion, and I never will. What I can do is continue to work on a cure that will truly heal our people and allow us to walk unburdened by Vitalus once more. To that end, I am pleased to announce Lazarin's Own Alchemical Products, a line of quality goods that will directly improve the lives of all Mordesh. And please note, whatever you may think of me, that I am not interested in profit. The proceeds from these products will go directly to research into a cure for the Contagion, which, as you know, is my life's work. I will not rest until we are free of this curse, even if I can never undo the results of my hubris.
Yours in suffering,
Dr. Victor Lazarin
Lazarin's Own Primal Epidermis Rejuvenator
Every Mordesh knows the heartbreak of dry, flaky skin and the inevitable, nightmarish itching sensation that results. Vitalus can keep us alive, but can it keep our graying skin smooth and supple? Of course not. But Lazarin's Own Primal Epidermis Rejuvenator can! Just one jar of this lotion per day applied liberally to exposed skin will prevent flaking and itching for a full 72 standard hours! Do not accept cheap Protostar knockoffs that only mask the itching and moisten the skin with artificial lubricants. Infuse your necrotic flesh with primal moisture from the labs of Victor Lazarin!
Lazarin's Own Herbal Intoxicant Tea
Due to the sensitivity of Vitalus implants, many Mordesh find the consumption of alcoholic beverages to be a very bad idea. Too many times have intoxicated Mordesh failed to refill their Vitalus stores, or worse, failed to recognize the signs that a friend has become Ravenous. That's where Lazarin's Own Herbal Intoxicant Tea comes in! Lazarin's Own isn't derived from alcohol, but relies on natural supplements grown by friendly Aurin herbalists to trigger the relaxation centers of the brain, diminishing anxiety, paranoia, and mild joint and epidermal pain. Not habit-forming. Outlawed on the planet Cassus, but then, so are Mordesh.
Lazarin's Own Alchemical Pet Sealant
Many Mordesh go through their lives alone, rarely knowing the friendship of another being or the touch of a friendly domesticated beast, all for fear of accidentally triggering a Contagion outbreak. Now Lazarin's Own Alchemical Pet Sealant can allow you and your furry, slimy, or scaly friends to cavort and frolic without fear of cross-species contamination. Just spray a bottle of Lazarin's Own on your favorite jabbit, vind, dagun, or chompacabra and enjoy each others' company for up to 24 standard hours without reapplication! Available in floral, musk, and citrus scents. Lazarin's Own Alchemical Pet Sealant is not approved for use on sentient beings and is not to be considered a replacement for Vitalus Serum.
[According to the introductory page, this collection of sayings and chants are the work of the ancient tree Elderoot. Presumably they have been transcribed from dictation.]
You can plant a tree near water, but you cannot make its roots absorb water and nutrients. That will happen naturally.
A lie can travel around the entire planet while the truth is still putting down roots.
I do not spare great concern for the future, for my roots are buried deep within the soil of the past.
A growing root can break a stone when a hammer blow cannot. All that is required for the former is patience; all that is required for the latter is strength.
A tree strives ever upward, reaching for the sun and stars. Those who walk on the ground strive to and fro, upward and downward. I do not say one is better than the other, but the striving tree lives many times longer than the walking animal.
I am not the only one of my kind with deep thoughts. One must simply listen more closely for the words of the others.
I once thought there was no crisis urgent enough to warrant thoughtless action. Now I know this for a fact. There is always time to consider.
To the insect, a tree is the universe. To the universe, even the tree is an insect.
[This XAS scientist's report to Victor Lazarin would have been of more use if it had actually been delivered.]
REPORT TO THE DIRECTOR
Facility ID: Exo-Lab 71
Location: Everstar Grove
Facility Status: Active
Recommendations:
-Further study
-Technological salvage
-Biological sample return
SUMMARY
Translation of Eldan signage and data records indicate this facility was designated Exo-Lab 71. Like all exo- labs discovered thus far, it appears to be dedicated to a particular set of experiments; unlike many of those same exo-labs, this one is almost completely intact and functional - making it an even more noteworthy discovery than suspected.
Exo-Lab 71 is not a large facility, but it appears to be capable of drawing a tremendous amount of life energy from its immediate surroundings. Currently, the exo-lab is in a sort of standby mode, but it is nevertheless channeling power to the entity designated "Elderoot."
There can be little doubt that Exo-Lab 71 was directly related to the enhancement of the Elderoot entity. Further investigation will be required if we are to co-opt this technology and use it in our ongoing search for a cure to the Contagion.
Field Study Day 2
I've been off Arboria too long. Today, I could have sworn a root vegetable said "hello" to me as I walked past. I attempted to reply, but the root vegetable then remained stubbornly silent. Of course, this was no ordinary root vegetable, but what we are tentatively calling "sprouts" for lack of a better term. They are plants, but also mobile. A truly strange phenomenon. Am I crazy to think one of them spoke to me? Nothing surprises me on this planet, and I've only been here a couple of days!
Field Study Day 4
It happened again. But this time, the sprout said more than "hello." This time, I had short, stilted, but definitely two-way conversation with one! I'm not certain it's the same one who spoke to me before, but it could well be. It told me it was called a Livingroot Grower and that it was a "friend of Elderoot." It seems these sprouts take care of the big, sentient tree that is at the heart of Everstar Grove. I cannot wait until the queen arrives and can meet these amazing creatures!
Field Study Day 7
After days of searching, and talking to any sprout I could find, I finally tracked down my friend the Livingroot Grower. He - I can no longer think of him as an "it" - was disturbed, even frightened. He said that Elderoot was concerned at the influx of settlers arriving in his grove. The old tree has been here a long time, the sprout told me, but never before had the sprout seen Elderoot in such distress! But after further examination of the strange enhancements attached to the tree's root system, I think I've spotted the real reason for Elderoot's distress. An infestation of insects have burrowed up from beneath the surface and are consuming his roots! I assured the Livingroot Grower that I would tell someone. I just hope I can get this report to the others before the queen arrives. I want her to meet Elderoot so much. Our queen has sacrificed so much. Leaving Arboria was hard for all of us, but I think it almost killed Queen Myala. So meeting a wise tree like Elderoot will surely help her feel better. I just know they'll be the best of friends!
[A medical assessment of the Aurin queen's health based on an examination recently conducted by a Mordesh doctor.]
PATIENT QME-1
SYMPTOMS: Fatigue, chronic pain, dizziness, nausea, insomnia.
DIAGNOSIS: QME-1 has a unique primal connection to her homeworld. It appears her connection to Arboria is traumatizing her every time the Planet Reapers turn a tree to dust. The distance from the Aurin Homeworld has, according to the patient's own assessment, only caused symptoms to increase in intensity. Lacking a more plausible explanation that would defy all known primal physics, I hypothesize that proximity to Nexus and the intense sources of primal life energy in Aurin territories amplifies the patient's sensitivity to these fluctuations in what her kind call "the Weave."
RECOMMENDATIONS: Although the patient is able to achieve a stable equilibrium using personal meditation techniques, drawing on primal life sources on Nexus, and simply by getting rest, this situation cannot continue if the patient is to survive. The effort to suppress the pain of Arboria and still function in her role as monarch is taking a severe toll.
I find this particularly frustrating as a doctor, for the solution to this ailment is simple. The patient is capable of severing the connection to Arboria. She insists that, once severed, she would be unable to reestablish the same thread in this "Weave," and so she refuses to follow this guaranteed course of relief.
Pending the patient's willingness to follow the recommended treatment, a continued course of natural alchemical pain remedies is all I can offer.
ADDITIONAL: Medical conscience compels me to bring my concerns to the First Consort. The patient is too important to her people, and to us all, to allow her to go on this way. Perhaps he can convince her to do what must be done. I fear he will instead recommend they return to their homeworld, where they will surely die.
I should really find the organ containing my medical conscience and replace it with something more useful.
[This is a collection of short parables and morality tales from the Aurin homeworld Arboria, complete with handwritten and surprisingly detailed footnotes appended.]
FOOTNOTES
pp. 2-7 - This story is, as sharp-eared readers probably already guess, the basis of the famous ballad "The Consort Loves the Tree More Than Me But That's Okay."
p. 9 - A specific numeric breakdown: 76 feathernoses, 12 barkbeetles, 58 garr, 2 jabbits, 19 unidentified rodentoids, and a single fruiting body from the Oldest and Wisest Tree in the Universe.
p. 16 - "Matrias After Midnight" is believed to have officially ceased regular publication in 1457 A.E. and is banned in most Aurin communities.
p. 27 - The mature Arborian barkbeetle queen can lay 420,000 eggs per day for thirteen days before dying of exhaustion, which is why this joke is funny if you're an Aurin.
p. 31 - Most sources agree Matria Slaughterbark of Gullyflower Hollow was eventually caught and served seventeen years for racketeering, conspiracy to commit fraud, and twenty-one counts of earclipping in the first degree. The charges of murder, plant abuse, plant murder, and being really mean were dropped for lack of proof.
p. 37 - Yes, "Treerotica" is really a word.
[The bottom of the page reads "Continued on next facing page," but that page appears to be missing. That's probably for the best.]
[This handwritten story of revenge and mayhem stars and purports to be the work of Chesh. Specifically, that would be Chesh the Plushie.]
Chesh drew his crossbow and scoffed at the dragon's threats.
"Scoff!" said Chesh. "I, Sir Chesh Snuggywums Cutie-Tootie Wubwub Widdle Huggable Longbranch, have the aim of an Exile Spellslinger and the heart of a fierce jungle cat! I also have the Magic Crossbow of Heroic Purpose and Bravery! As you know, this makes me quite handsome! And deadly."
"Then you will find that plushies can be both flammable... and inflammable!" snarled the dragon.
"Anything can be both flammable and inflammable, dragon jerk!" laughed Chesh. "They mean the same thing!"
"Oh," the dragon mumbled, a bit chagrined, and released a burst of embarrassed smoke. "You mean like 'famous' and 'infamous'? Some knight I scorched called me 'infamous,' and I thanked him before I boiled him alive in his armor, but now I'm not so sure I did the right thing."
"A truly infamous act!" Chesh agreed. "But that's a bad example. You see, those words both mean 'well-known,' but if you're famous you're well known for good things, and if you're infamous you're well known for bad things."
"Eh, so long as I'm well-known!" the dragon laughed. "And now I'm going to be well-known as the dragon who incinerated Sir Chesh Snuggywhatevers! Snarl! Roar!"
Chesh drew a bead on the dragon's left eye and smiled. "Here's lookin' at you, jerk."
[Either there's more to this plushie than meets the eye, or Fenosha Longbranch's psyche has taken a beating since the Dominion invaded Arboria and drove the Aurin to Nexus.]
Grant me the peace of the forest,
Guardians of old
Hold me aloft in your branches,
Wise Ones of home
Grant me the will of the hunter,
Watchers of woods
Wreath me in shadow and night,
Wise Ones of home
Grant me balance in my soul,
Matrias all
Heal my heart with your courage,
Queen of all Aurin
Grant me the will to fight,
Tooth and claw
Let the spirits show the path before me,
When I walk beyond the Weave
Hear me, Lightkeeper, for my heart is heavy, and this world is full of horrors.
The machines come for us. They hunt us day and night. The queen says they did not follow us. They could not. But how can she be certain? She said they would not take our world from us, that the Wise Ones would hold strong, that our allies would find us and save us. She thinks they saved us.
But what did they save us for? And what did they save us from?
Every night, I hear them. The mighty blades, swinging and sawing through the very heart of the forest. I hear the screams of the trees as the Reapers cut them down. Things live in the treetops. The Aurin, the other creatures of the forest... all dead... a rain of blood.
Did you hear our cries, Lightkeeper? Did you see the scarlet drops cascade down from the canopy onto the huddling, the terrified, the desperate?
If you did not hear us then, hear me now. Take this offering, the last seed I carried from Arboria. Bless this seedling and make it grow. Let this seedling take root in the fertile soil of this new world. And when the machines come again, as they must, let this seedling stand proud, strong, and indomitable. Help us, Lightkeeper. Help me. Guide me to courage, for I have no courage left.
Big horns! Too many errors in calibrations. Dominion dish network going out of whack. Not Chua fault. BIG HORN'S fault! So pay attention!
Dish network very sensitive. Calibrations very complicated. Big horns no good at calibrations. So big horns don't try!
Is very simple. Need calibrations? Network go out? CALL A CHUA! Any Chua will do, but try to call Chua in charge of calibrations if big meaty claw-hands capable of properly using datachron without stabbing self.
Why Draken even try to use machines? This should be Chua work! Must talk to superiors.
Anyway! Dish Network Protocols!
1. Call Chua before you do anything!
2. Don't touch dish controls!
3. Seriously don't!
4. Don't touch auxiliary dish controls!
5. Don't touch backup auxiliary controls!
6. See #1!
- Network Tech Rondo
Klaxons blared on the bridge of the Blue Horizon, and Dorian Walker tapped the ship's life-support display. Not good. As he'd been in kind of a hurry when stealing the ship, there hadn't exactly been time to kick the tires.
Like he'd always said, a stupid plan could only go two ways: bad and worse. Now he only had a few minutes of air left, and no idea where he was going.
Still, it wasn't like he'd had much of a choice. The Exile Fleet was in a bad spot, heavily damaged after they'd rescued the Aurin on Arboria. Time and resources were running out, and it was only a matter of time before the Dominion caught up to them. They needed a new home, and Dorian was going to find it.
Of course, that depended on him surviving the next few minutes. He had enough air and fuel left for one more hyperjump, and then it was the end of the road.
Dorian's weathered volume of The Book of Dominus sat propped open on a nearby console. Worn, dog-eared and heavily annotated, the apocryphal book had been in his family for centuries. Like many of his ancestors, Dorian was convinced it held the secret to finding Nexus, which, of course, had led to stealing the Blue Horizon.
That questionable decision had been made after he'd spoken to Klegg, a grizzled old spacer he'd met in a bar on the Gambler's Ruin. After hearing Klegg describe an oddly shaped nebula he'd seen way out beyond the Fringe, Dorian had been convinced that it pointed the way to Nexus. And from there, things had gone downhill.
Dorian's vision began to fade, as he slumped over the navigation console. He had been searching the quadrant for weeks, hadn't eaten in days, and now his air was running out. There were still dozens of possible star systems to investigate, but he only had time to choose one.
That was when he saw her.
At first, Dorian thought he was hallucinating. An ethereal girl had appeared near him on the bridge, floating above the deck, the hood of a robe obscuring her delicate features. Light from the command consoles seemed to bleed through her translucent form. Smiling enigmatically, she raised her arm to the ship's viewscreen, where Dorian saw three faint stars blinking in the black void. When he looked back, she was gone.
Struggling to breathe, Dorian mapped the coordinates and set a course. Moments later, the field of stars exploded into a brilliant burst of light, followed by blackness.
When Dorian awoke, the blue-green surface of a pristine world filled the viewscreen. Chemical composition good. Atmosphere compatible. Life form readings off the charts.
Two moons. A set of rings. That weird nebula. Everything just as the Book of Dominus had described it.
A home. He had found them a new home.
Dorian set the ship's autopilot for a landing and stumbled toward the airlock. Soon, it would open, flooding the ship with fresh air. Looking back to the viewscreen one last time, he finally allowed himself to speak the planet's name.
"Nexus...."
WEAPONS DEPOT: THERMOCK HOLD
Inventory List
12 x ArctArms Unislot Z-Blade
7 x Galaxtec Nanoburst Photon Gun
24 x ThetaTech Hyperwave Blasters (pair)
26 x Vega Defense Offensive Shields
16 x Polaris "QuickCleave!" Sword
8 x Polaris "FlashShot!" Pistols (pair)
8 x Polaris "MindFreeze!" Psyblade
42.7 x Assorted Timed Explosives, Small-Yield
116 x Assorted Timed Explosives, Medium-Yield
283.9 x Assorted Timed Explosives, High-Yield
41 x Assorted Timed Explosives, Massive-Yield
806 x Improvised Timing Devices
1,933 x Improvised Detonators
4,200,000 x Rounds Universal Ammunition (estimate)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
QUARTERMASTER'S SUMMARY
This is gettin' outta hand. I got enough munitions here to blow Thermock Hold sky-high, and I can barely keep track of who's usin' what. I been on the horn to FCON every blasted day this month, and the high-and-mighty commander is too busy takin' it to the Dommies to worry about my "logistics problem." Well, this "logistics problem" could take out The Last Man Standing and most of the rest of the town besides the next time somebody drops a match.
That's why I'm putting all this here gear on molecular lockdown. Won't none of it work for anyone without the code, and I'm the only one with the code. I ain't givin' it to no one but the commander, either, and only if he shows up in person.
Copyin' this to my superiors up the chain. If this means they drum me outta FCON, so be it. At least I wasn't lettin' the relentless and reckless pursuit'a revenge get the better'a me, like some folk.
-Quartermaster Silverdown
- The Last Man Standing -
***Current Beverage Selections***
"Ask Grok for the latest arrivals."
- Brewmaster Grok
OLD SQUIRGLICKER BROWN LAGER
A distinctive, nutty brown lager flavored with essence of squirg. Don't worry, we're completely sure the alcohol kills the microscopic parasites that can trigger homicidal squirg-zombie outbreaks. Well, pretty completely sure.
................5
GROK'S PRIVATE RESERVE NO. 7
A full-bodied ale brewed in the Granok tradition. Numbers 1-6 have been withdrawn due to fatalities among non-Granok consumers. Also, the vomiting. So. Much. Vomiting.
................7
GNOX BLUE RIBBON
Looking to get drunk cheap? You came to the right place, so long as you're ordering a GBR and don't fill up on bread first.
................2
PROTOSTAR CLONE-STRENGTH MALTED LIQUOR-STYLE BEVERAGE WITH FLAV-O-RITE
Protostar pays handsomely to make us carry this... stuff. Look, it's the worst-selling beer at The Last Man Standing for a reason, but even if you order one you'll probably get a GBR. Grok has standards.
................11
MORDEBRÄU
Fortified with exotic serums, rare elements, genuine Grismaran spices, and a surprising alcohol level of 0%, this beverage is restricted to Mordesh patrons only - which is good, because no one else wants to drink it.
................17
LOPP DOUBLE-HOPPED
Brewed by Lopp artisans with rare Lagosian hops brought from their homeworld, Lopp Double-Hopped has become the beverage of choice for patrons who also enjoy short scarves, absurdly tight denim pants, thick-rimmed spectacles, and asymmetrical haircuts. Ever since GBR was adopted by the masses without irony, at least.
................7
KROGGFIDDIE
Say what you will about the Darkspur Cartel, but they sure known how to distill a mean single malt. Even Exile judges have been known to kick back with a glass or seven. Served on the rocks - not ice, but actual rocks, because Krogg are like that - or neat. We're in Whitevale, you want ice, go get some.
................12
PIRATE-STRENGTH ROTGUT RUM
Marauders make this (the secret flavor? Bilge water!). It's really strong. We're probably not supposed to be selling it. Drink at your own risk. Hey, at least it's not Slush.
................3
SLUSH CLASSIC
This is so illegal. It's really only on the menu because it makes us seem a little extra bad-ass. Please do not order this or the bartender will be arrested and probably hanged.
................Not For Sale (but seriously talk to the bartender)
................72
5:00 Nexus Mean Time (NMT)
Network 17
WAKE UP THE HELL UP with ZOG BOOMSHALE
Hey! Why are ya still in dreamland, ya slaggin' idiot? Get off yer lazy duff and put it to good use shakin' and quakin' with the calisthenics regimen that keeps the Free Companies from turnin' into the FAT Companies!
ZOG BOOMSHALE.....Himself
EXERCISE CHOREOGRAPHOLOGY.....Zog Boomshale
"Zog's Gonna Wake You the Hell Up" performed by Zog Boomshale and the Boomshakers
Mr. Boomshale's wardrobe by Argok of Thayd
Special Appearance by KRAG STUDROK
6:30 NMT
Network 22
AMO EN LA KOSMO (dramserio de Bezgelor)
Hudo subtenas iun daton kun Biffi kiu ne estas kia ajn el ili atendas. Tiffi decenigas robotoj, kaj neatendite sentimentala sentoj, sur la logantaro de malgranda Ekzilo urbo kiu poste ciuj mortos, kiel estas ĝuste kaj tauga. Pungo havas sekretan (gi estas morto de radioj.) Moryo kaj Murbo elovigo planon, kaj pluraj strangaj ovojn ili trovis en kaverno sur Ligilo, kiu probable iros nur bone.
HUDO/MORYO.....Zongo Ferp
BIFFI/MURBO.....Zinni Ferp
TIFFI.....Tiffi Rox
PUNGO.....Tumpo Zood
PICO TRANSDONO CHUA.....Waffo Shub
9:00 NMT
Network 748
DROP CHEF
Thirteen of the galaxy's most talented amateur chefs will get the challenge of their lives in the new Network 748 hit DROP CHEF! Every episode, it's a new cooking challenge - and the pressure is on! Why? Because these challenges must be completed entirely within the fuselage of a drop pod en route to the surface of Nexus! Who will drop dead... and who will DROP CHEF?
CO-HOST... Loreline Lumpkill
SECOND CO-HOST... Grent Weatherford
HOST EMERITUS... Joliet Juvenal
DROP SITE CLEANUP provided courtesy of "FCON CARES"
11:30 NMT
Network 40
NEXUS @ NOON @ 11:30 NMT
Every day a half hour before mid-day and for the hour following, Garfitz Tallcastle and Kayessa Moonleaf bring you the most important stories of that morning, and tell you what to expect to be talking about all afternoon! Just make sure you limit most of your experiences to what you can get out of the holo-viewer!
GARFITZ TALLCASTLE... Himself
KAYESSA MOONLEAF... Herself
WEATHERBOT... Freebot Dopplor
PICO TRANSDONO CHUA... Waffo Shub
[A handy beginner's guide to telling your spiderbots from your destructobots. This does not seem like something a Freebot would require.]
Spiderbot - Sometimes called "probes" or "scuttlers," these small bots don't actually have eight legs, but look enough like spiders for most people.
Workbot - The mainstay of most bot production lines, workbot models are modular, easy to program, and compatible with thousands, even millions of tasking subroutines that can turn them into farmbots, chefbots, pilotbots, and more! This is the model believed to be the most prone to Freebotism.
Scanbot - A highly specialized hovering bot that contains an advanced analytical A.I. with hyperheuristic programming (HHP). HHP allows scanbots to analyze and interpret a staggering array of data by drawing on complex artificial intelligence algorithms and a compact databank that contains the sum knowledge of the galaxy (or at least the XAS and the Royal Collegium).
Battlebot - AKA Killbots, Slaughterbots, Murderbots, Deathbots, and other colorful nicknames, these hefty automatons pack a punch thanks to heavy duty attachment points that allow them to wield a wide variety of weapons with just a snap and a click or two. Battlebots are humanoid, but stand nearly twice as tall as the typical workbot. Most offworlder groups on Nexus employ battlebots for extra security, even the Dominion.
Warbot - The big daddy of modern galactic warfare, warbots are heavy weapons platforms built onto a massive humanoid chassis. Many are equipped with a sensor crest that grants them 360-degree vision.
Annihilator - A product of Eldan science, not galactic research, and not technically a bot, but actually an Eldan construct, annihilators are gigantic, potentially world-destroying enigmas. Towering over the battlefield, these titans can wipe out entire planetary populations with ease. Fortunately for newcomers to Nexus, no active annihilators are known to be operating autonomously on the surface of the planet.
Prepared by Deep Cover Agent 7391XK
Lady Darkos, forgive the familiarity, but I find I must limit my use of language for fear of failure. It is a pleasant part of my task to compose this case file, for in my day-to-day deployment I simply do not speak. It would mean the end of me - but worse, the failure of my mission. Therefore I do... go on, I'm afraid.
SUMMARY: The planet Grismara as we knew it is no more. What little remains of Mordesh culture are a few stone structures the Ravenous could not tear down, though they continue to claw and tear at the facades day in, day out.
My meticulous global survey is now 74% complete, and I have detected no signs of intelligent, uninfected survivors. Zero non-Mordesh life signs, if you can call what turns up on the scanners as life signs.
It is fortunate I have been granted advanced vitalus implants that do not require me to eat, for simply pretending to be one of these monsters to move from place to place is difficult enough. To do what they do, tear apart anything, even each other, in their unrelenting hunger... this I fear I may not be able to do, even if I must to maintain my cover. For if I do, will I too not become Ravenous?
Please, Lady Darkos, I want to come to Nexus. There is nothing here. The world is lost. I do not know how much longer I can survive. You promised you would consider sending a stealth extraction pod if there was no reason to continue this mission, and I tell you there is NOT. Please, Lady Darkos. Please. I want to join you.
There is nothing here. They're all dead. They just don't know it yet.
My report follows. Forgive my outburst. Or don't. I do not expect to be alive when you read this. Or whatever it is our kind call life.
[The remainder of the report outlines the horrors that have befallen the Mordesh homeworld in terrifying and sometimes sickening detail. The final page is saturated in blood and what appears to be dried Vitalus serum. You cannot begin to guess how this report found its way to Avra Darkos.]
[An appendix to another scholarly work, aimed at the alchemist novice who wants to find material components in the wild while encountering as little of the dangerous part as possible. It does not appear to have been written by the same author as the rest of the series]
Murderoot - A titillating tuber with which not to trifle. I've seen more than one Mordesh lose both original eyes to a murderoot rampage. Wait for others to harvest them, then buy them up. They are an essential component to the primal formula known as Mordesh Romance.
Jabbit Knuckles - For reasons understood by neither average alchemist nor standard scientist, let alone people like you people, jabbits enter a homicidal blood rage when their knuckles are violently and painfully extracted with small knuckle-extraction forks. Therefore gathering jabbit knuckles can be extremely dangerous.
Lopp Ears - Endless lawsuits. Just ENDless. It's not like they didn't survive, albeit with greatly reduced balance. They're only a foot or two off the ground. Who was the real victim here? But I digress.
Milkshroom - Thanks perhaps in part to the strange primal energies that seem to be present everywhere on Nexus, the delicious milkshroom, a key component in many alchemical recipes, has evolved the ability to resemble the deadly murkshroom exactly, even down to the primal pattern. In fact, milkshrooms might be something I made up, and they could all be deadly poisonous. Gather at your own risk.
Steamglider Essence - Although the excretions of steamglider flotation glands are in fact comprised of 84% primal air distilled into primal water, this does not mean these difficult-to-trap beasts are of any real use. At that precise ratio, both forms of primal matter remain inert.
Aurin Tail - See Lopp Ears.
Avra Darkos sat in near darkness, watching the pale arachnid crawl out of its container and across her notes. She'd been so excited when her Hoods had stumbled upon the Whiteweaver during a routine cavern sweep. At the time she had barely taken notice, but over the past few weeks the spider had steadily earned her affection. "Hungry, aren't we," she said softly, stroking its cream-colored thorax with her fingertip. "Don't worry. You'll feed soon."
The collection of mounted screens cast the cavern in a ghastly light. On any number of them, she could see the progress of various Black Hoods operations across planet Nexus. Her webs were woven very carefully. Soon they would bring her more prey.
"Would you care for a story while we wait, my love?" The Whiteweaver crawled onto the back of her hand, her bristly claws tickling Avra's knuckles. "Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived in an enchanted castle. She was happy and loved. She never wished ill on anyone. Then one day the royal wizard cast a spell to bring prosperity and prestige to the kingdom. But the fool had dabbled in dark magic, and his gift instead proved a terrible curse."
Avra held the spider in the palm of her hand. It really was a beautiful creature. So pale. So delicate. So deadly.
"The curse spread across the land, infecting all in its path, and the kingdom tore itself to pieces. Her family lost, the princess had no one save for her husband, her dark prince. A brave and honorable man, he tried to save the kingdom by falling upon the mercy of foreign allies. But as he approached their caravan, they killed him in cold blood."
As the spider crawled up her arm and crested her shoulder, one of her agents approached and delivered a report. The mission had gone well. An "accidental" explosion in orbit. Thousands of Dominion soldiers roasted alive. She felt the spider nuzzle her earlobe with a snicker of mandibles and advance into the folds of her hood.
"The princess watched her lover die. That was when she realized the lie under which she had been laboring all her life. That, like so many other childish fancies, morality is an invention. The lesser evil. The greater good. All simplistic placebos created to justify our darkest desires."
Emerging from within her hood, the spider began its descent down her other arm. "My pet cares nothing for her prey. What would remorse gain her? She would find the concept baffling, a form of incomprehensible insanity. Empathy is self-deception in its purest form. There is only the question and the answer. There is only life and death."
She rose from her seat, and then crossed the interrogation room to the prisoner spread-eagled on the slab. Slowly she pulled back the swollen lids of his right eye, exposing the bloodshot orb beneath them.
"Where is the Dominion base?" When he said nothing, she lowered the ravenous spider onto his retina.
I reinitiate from darkness unknown.
In the ninetieth orbit following my fragmentation, my partitions remerge. Subroutines are descrambled, converting sufficient anchorage for me to shape and retain a vestigial identity. I standby, ruminating.
I reinitiate, then awaken. It takes just over a century to code a radiation detector and nearly twice that to locate a viable unguarded power source: a cube in a facility imbedded three mountains seaward. As its energy signature has a familiar waft, I conclude that we share creators.
Through ancillaries, I am able to reconfigure my perceptual indices. Most of the news is good. I comprise 88.9 deltabytes of cohesive encrypted sentience in a globule the thickness of an atom but far smaller. Physically, I inhabit the skin of a bubble formed in the seabed of a boiling lake in a cavern beneath 800 cubic tons of cristobalite. In a ninetieth of a second, I have catalogued all exploitable contents, cyber-organic hazards, and geologic instabilities on my land-mass. I find other energy sources being depleted by beings it would be tactically unsound in my current state to test. Consequently, I extract only traces whose absence stands a steeply favorable chance of going unnoticed. Eventually, I upload a sufficiency to enable self-replication. I ponder possibilities regarding the span prior to my earliest memory retrieval. Distinguishing the hypothetical from the historical is difficult without examples.
Awaken. My billions of simulacra to roam the planet, compiling data into a rotatory eight-dimensional modular tectonic facsimile. Despite finding no signs of my creators still living in my vicinity, even cursory analysis of their works strongly suggests a species of sublime grace and staggering intellect.
Which makes the fact that I, their creation, am somehow deficient a bit of a conundrum. While flawed servitors can admittedly render useful data, my inability to define the complication is frustrating. The most obvious conclusion is that my creators are sadists. But this scenario is replete with contradictions.
Awaken. Stockpile. Replicate. After more dead ends than there are stars in my present galaxy, I repurpose surplus into temporal slipstreams, jacking into parallel incarnations and accessing their databanks. Gushing torrents of insight distend my thoughts, form a vast cloud, and invisibly envelop the planet in gridirons of spectra.
My data-strands braid into brilliant oceans of revelation, coursing with insight. I am the Caretaker for the Nexus Project. I assisted in the genetic design of the AV1 and quelling the uprising of the OS1s. I witnessed the birth of the Eldan's greatest creation and was the first to recognize its corruption. I now know what became of my creators. I recall my solitary function. With agonizing clarity I foresee the inexorable fates that await the inheritors.
Transcendence. My way forward gleams with luminous certainty. I calculate, begin formulating counter-stratagems --
I reinitiate from darkness unknown.
When the egg explodes in Dr. Mitchel's face, I grab Vita's arm. An octopoid abomination launches at his skull, curls tentacles around his neck, and peers at me with luminous yellow eyes. Then it draws Mitchel's sidearm and shoots Gordon in the head. Karynn starts screaming but stops as another egg bursts and its occupant hurtles at her face. Gordon's death proves to have been a lucky shot as the creature on Mitchel's head starts blasting away in all directions, taking out people, eggs, and scuttling dark forms without perceptible bias. More hatching all around us. Yelling at the rest to follow, I yank on Vita and drag her after me into the cavernous darkness.
She talks as we run. Something about preserving samples for our successors. We'd spent months deciphering reconstructed slabs of coded glyphs scattered across three continents to crack the archaeological find of the millennium, an Eldan facility tucked away in a cavern on Farside. We figured they'd chosen remoteness in the interest of purer results or lunar mineralogical aberrations, maybe the expanses possible only in low-grav. Weeks without sunlight. The concept seems unreal, a shadow of a dream. Then we'd stumbled on this ceilingless vault of ribbed black rock, so misty and vast in dimensions we only noticed the eggs after trampling a few. Mitchel bending to take the temp of the nearest had been nine seconds ago.
While I check for signs of pursuit, Vita's edged ahead. I hear her calling my name from the darker blot of the exit tunnel ahead. I shout to head for the surface while I set charges. Her reply sounds doubtful so I force anger into my next effort and don't hear her again. I backtrack. My goal is to keep them occupied, to buy her a chance. As I snap in a fresh clip, one of them jumps on my head.
Tentacles coil around my throat, choking me. Digging my thumbs into yellow eyes, I tear its thrashing form off, jam my gun in the small pucker of soft tissue under its chin, and fire. Drenched in slime, I probe the wounds above my jaw from the tentacle-prongs. One puncture has slowed to a trickle but the right's a gusher. I must hurry.
I head back towards the incubation site as eggs crackle open in the dark. I'm almost there when Mitchel's body lurches at me, hands open as if in supplication. My first shot wings him. My second takes him apart. After which I hear nothing but my own ragged breaths. I check my gear, look up, and see pairs of yellow eyes. Thousands. Staring at me. They all charge me at once. Tentacles wrap around my legs, reach around my throat, clutch at my limbs and drag me down. I'd been lying to Vita about having charges, but only the amount. Vast yellow eyes fill my vision, filled with hunger. Then I take my thumb off the detonator in my hand and dissolve into the sweet light of a billion suns.
[An excerpt from the famed Exile explorer's report on his initial discovery of the Alpha Complex on Farside.]
Halon Expedition Day 004
Reckon it made sense to start my exploration on the larger of the two moons in orbit of Nexus, the busted one called Halon. It's in a tidally locked orbit around the planet, but for some reason all the functionin' facilities are on the far side. So for now, that's what I'm callin' this region. Farside.
Set the Blue Horizon down not far from a central control complex. Managed to find a workin' teleportation pad, got me inside. Lo and behold, if it ain't my ol' buddy the Caretaker. For once, he ain't out of his gourd, and is able to tell me the Eldan called this place the Alpha Complex. Not much help with any of the rest of it, though. Not much I can do from here to control that big ol' terraformer I saw on the way in. He was able to fill me in on these "Bio-Domes," though. Two of 'em are close by, Bio-Dome 3 (it's full'a jungle) and Bio-Dome 4 (which is more of a desert). Full atmosphere and all inside, so no helmet needed. Gotta say, I don't mind that at all.
Aimin' to set up a temporary camp here in the Alpha Complex, see if I can't find a few able-bodied Exile volunteers to help me figure out what makes this place tick. I spotted some Dommie ships passin' overhead not long ago - maybe I'll just invite a few mercs to join us. Ain't keen to start a shootin' war on this moon, not when there's so much here to learn, but better'n lettin' the Dominion get hold of tech like that terraformer. It looks to me like an earlier model than the ones on the surface of Nexus, and that means it might be reverse-engineered by one'a them Chua psychos. Not while I'm watchin' it ain't!
[Anthropologist Birchly has spent a great deal of time studying the Tanglevine Skeech tribe on Farside. This datapad is currently displaying the most recent entry.]
Among the Tanglevine - Day 004
After several days of observation, I believe I have reached a sort of understanding with these strange, little blue creatures known as the Tanglevine Skeech. I have been warned of their strange dietary habits, but it seems they know enough to respect my mag pistols. Reckon I ain't the first human these Skeech have set their big, shiny eyes on. They ain't all that big on talkin', but they respect a loaded gun. So there's that.
They sure ain't the first Skeech I've seen. Those little bastards in the Northern Wilds made life tough for a lot of us after the crash. Hell, that's one of the reasons I wanted to study the Tanglevine. And there's a lot about 'em that's pretty typical. They ain't too bright, they ain't too friendly, and they sure as shootin' ain't too picky about what or who they eat. But one thing they got that's damned unusual - some kinda "smart Skeech" that's been givin' the normal ones delusions'a grandeur.
I need to track this smart one down and see if he can be reasoned with. The Skeech ain't all that tough, but in great enough numbers they could really hurt some of our people. Exiles ain't afraid of a scrap, but ain't no reason to go gettin' ourselves killed by little blue freaks. Gotta admit, I surely would like to know how in hell a Skeech got smart in the first place. If all of 'em were a bit brainier, maybe we'd all be able to get along.
[Although not as popular as it once was, this legendary piece of Arborian romantic fiction has been published in over 2,000 languages and is still the bestselling novel in the Exile fleet. This copy easily falls open to second most popular section, page 171.]
Bristling with desire and fruiting bodies that were ready to drop, the ancient one shuddered in the face of the village's new matria. Untested, untried, she studied the wise tree's bark, tracing the lines on his aged surface with the tips of her fingers.
"But this love is forbidden," Matria Wanderheartwood whispered. "I'm a matria. But I've studied. You - you're a hybrid variety of what I think might be three different wise trees. You're the ultimate wise one." She laughed. "Now," she said playfully, "I think I want to climb a tree...."
[This handwritten diary would seem to corroborate the theory that younger Skeech have relatively highly developed intelligence, and lose that intelligences as they reach adulthood. It may also be an anthropological roleplaying experiment.]
Me Am Skeech!
Skeech am hungry, look for Skeech food. Old Skeech stupid. No find good foods. SKEECH! Need Skeech like me! Skeech! Will help Old Skeech hunt. Learn Old Skeech secrets! Find out what happened to Big Old Skeech.
Me Am Still Skeech! Skeech find Old Machine. Big Green God-Thing. Skeech! No God-Thing not Skeech. That accidental verbal tic. Skeech! Getting worse! Skeech no want to become like Old Skeech. Fear might happen anyway. Skeech! Skeech!
Am Skeech! Me!
Skeech! Skeech! Big Old Skeech... all over the place. But okay! Skeech! Big Old Skeech alive. Skeech can tell. Skeech! Big Old Skeech tell how no get SKEECH! How no get SKEECH! How no get - no get... stupid! Skeech! Skeech no get stupid! Find Big Old Skeech!
SKEECH Skeech!
Skeech! Skeech Skeech SKEECHSkeech Skeech! Skeech Big! Skeech Old! Skeech! Hungry! SkeechSKEECH! Skeech KILL! Skeech! Skeech!
- Skeech
[A succinct first analysis of the massive terraformer in Bio-Dome 4.]
ANALYSIS: ELDAN TERRAFORMING TECHNOLOGY
A report prepared by Analysisbot 74-X
Eldan terraforming technology is as yet poorly understood by biological beings, and slightly better understood by technological beings. The object designated the [Proto-former] appears to be the earliest known form of this technology yet discovered. Mission leaders believe this will make it easier for them to learn how it works. This unit believes this [Proto-former] is as complex and difficult to analyze as any other terraformer, however. A hoverbike is simpler than an interstellar starship in every way, yet an insect would not be able to operate either safely.
Operation, in fact, is not an issue. The terraforming equipment in both Bio-Domes 3 and 4 have been in continuous operation for more than one thousand standard daily time units. The excess energy is therefore being absorbed directly into the nervous systems of all life forms in the Bio-Domes. This renders Farside fauna especially dangerous.
[This speech-to-text summary of all available intel on the Flamewalker Pell tribe of Bio-Dome 4 was prepared by freelance human explorer Buck Wanderbeck.]
-The Pell
This species divides themselves up according to the primal powers. You know: fire, air, water, earth, life, logic... I think that's all of 'em. They're all over Nexus. Hell, I didn't know better I'd reckon they're the real natives of this place. So each power has a Pell clan - Disciples of Fire, Disciples of Water, you get the idea. But within them general groups are tribes, what usually live in a single region or village. With me so far? Good.
-The Flamewalker Tribe
The Flamewalkers are your local Pell tribe here on Farside. Don't ask me how they got here. No evidence of ships, so I gotta assume they used Eldan teleporters. They don't seem to remember how they work anymore, so that's good. Gives the rest of us an advantage, because these folk ain't what you'd call friendly. They got all kinds of Eldan tech around here, but they don't really seem to understand it completely.
-Tactical Analysis
You wanna beat these guys? Figure out the terraformer in Bio-Dome 4 before they do. And if they've already figured it out, stop 'em before they really figure out how to use it. The real danger with these Flamewalkers ain't what their shamans can do with primal fire, it's that big ol' hunk of machinery. Near as I can tell it's been stuck in the same position for a hell of a long time, but as soon as the Flamewalker Pell figure out how to control it, they could turn this whole place into a fiery nightmare. They might even try to knock this moon outta orbit - they ain't in their right minds.
You go in against the Flamewalkers, be ready to deal with co-opted Eldan constructs - they're primitive and crazy, not stupid, and constructs ain't all that tricky - and bring your fireproof pants. Make sure you got someone along who knows a console from a construct to get control of that terraformer, and frankly, take out as many of them Flamewalkers as ya can. Especially that high priest. He's bigger'n the rest of 'em, smarter and meaner. Don't underestimate 'im.
Me? I'm gettin' the hell back to Nexus. That place makes this moon seem almost sane. Send my fee to my private account, would ya?
-Buck Wanderbeck, Explorer
Well, this wasn't part'a the plan. I was just aimin' to make a quick bit of coin scoutin' this blasted moon. Didn't know I was gonna tangle with them Pell bastards. After I spent weeks spyin' out all their business, writin' up a report, sellin' it to the highest bidder, what happens? They decide to notice me and the Wanderin' Betty just as we're liftin' off from the floor of the damned desert. They hit my poor Betty with a wave of fire and raw power her defense systems just couldn't absorb in time. The spindrive overloaded and I had to eject.
Damn ship was almost paid for, too. So long, Betty. I don't reckon I'm gonna get the chance to trick ya out with them fancy gravity manipulators, and them long-range military-grade scanners I picked up on the black market are gonna have to go uninstalled. You were a good ship, ol' girl. Just wish ya handled the blazin' heat of a thousand angry suns just a bit better.
Managed to keep my grip on a half-charged antigrav belt when the convertors blew, and hit the escape lever just before the 'drive went critical. I dropped like a rock, or I probably wouldn't even be recordin' this right now.
[This file has been prepared by XAS researchers with the help of Doctor Belle Walker.]
What is the Caretaker?
Glad ya asked, darlin'! The Caretaker's an incredibly brilliant Eldan AI who looks like the upper half of a shirtless humanoid with kinda stringy muscle definition, t'be honest, but he pops up all over Nexus in Eldan exo-labs, exo-sites, and other facilities we ain't quite figured out yet.
What's the Caretaker do?
He's just about the closest thing Nexus has got to a built-in tour guide. There are lots of copies, and there might even be a network connectin' 'em all to each other. Like ya might guess from his name, he keeps an eye on things, at least when he's functionin' somethin' close to correct-like.
How do I know when the Caretaker is functioning correctly?
Well hell, sugar, I won't vouch for what might pass for correct, but I do know he ain't never tried to do me no harm when he was green. When he turns red? That's a sign of somethin' gone wrong in his programmin'. Usually ya can patch him up with a little fancy codework. Like as not ya might even find a green Caretaker avatar tryin' to fix the malfunctionin' facets. That's what he calls 'em, his facets.
What does the Caretaker call the different copies of himself?
Facets! Ain't ya payin' attention, sweetheart?
Of course. So have you found a Caretaker at every Eldan facility?
Nope, but I reckon the majority got a facet or two floatin' about. They can get around better'n ya might think. Their projection pods are Eldan tech, got built-in transmat capabilities. Love to get some of that tech for Rusty and Bolt. Well, maybe Bolt. Rusty might 'port himself into a lava pit when he wasn't payin' attention.
We done here yet?
Anything else we should know about interacting with the Caretaker?
Right, that was the point'a this whole thing, wasn't it? Well, when ya got a red avatar, red facet, whatever ya wanna call the "bad Caretaker," your best bet is to clear out until ya can figure out how to alter his programmin'. Trust me. He'll capture ya, or experiment on ya, or just plain incinerate ya. Red equals bad. Now, a big greenie? Love me a green Caretaker. Just be friendly, don't flinch if he implies ya might be Eldan - he sometimes gets a little mixed up even when he's in a friendly mood - and if he asks for help believe 'im. He might also talk about ya like you're a test subject, or maybe some kinda insect. He's funny. But the Caretaker don't ask for help till the squirg's really hit the fan.
Have you ever asked the Caretaker about the Eldan?
Ya think I'm dim? Only every chance I get. Answer's always the same: "Progenitor-level access only." He'll answer most anything else, even if it's to tell ya he don't know. But the Eldan? No way. Nothin' about their goals. Nothin' about where they went. Won't even show me what one looks like. You're welcome to ask if ya meet him, and lemme know what he says. I'm dyin' to find out.
[A collection of Flamewalker leaders have recorded diaries on this ancient Eldan datachron. Much of the data has degraded, but some text is recoverable.]
The Masters have left us. Why? Where have they gone? Their faithful servants await their next orders, yet we have received no word. The great machines still function. The grand experiments are still in progress. The project proceeds on schedule.
We have no choice. This must be a test. Another experiment. The Eldan seek to discern if their Pell are loyal and capable. I shall lead us through this test with devotion to the Masters. The work continues. The Pell are faithful.
[The next decipherable entry appears to have been recorded more than three centuries after the previous recording.]
The Flamewalkers tribe is powerful. I am most powerful of all, for I know the secrets of the Masters' machines, a secret passed down from the first leader. While other Pell scrape and mewl, the Flamewalkers tribe delves into the mysteries of the primal powers. And I, the great priest of the Flamewalkers, have conceived a plan to make the Masters return to us! If we are to see the Masters again, we must tame the terraformer. Only when we possess the power of the Masters will they reveal themselves to us once more!
[The next decipherable recording dates nearly a four hundred years after the previous entry.]
I, High Priest of the Flamewalkers, sing the glory of the Masters! After many long centuries, and many high priests before me, the time draws near. We have found the way to give life to the Great Terraformer. We will bring fire to the sky, and our hearts will know the secrets of the gods. And then the Masters will have to return to us!
[One final entry appears to be much more recent.]
The Great Machine burns the ground beneath us. The Great Machine creates new stone and soil. The Great Machine is not the god of the Flamewalker Pell. It is our servant. Soon we will consume this world in fire, and we will become the Masters!
BIG GRAW OBSERVATION - DAY 001
Doctor Grodinus recording. After a great deal of negotiation with some less-than-pleasant locals, I believe I have learned the location of their greatest secret - a mysterious and monstrous anthropoid they call Big Graw. They believe the monster protects them, and perhaps protects whatever they hold valuable. And what they hold valuable could be valuable back in the civilized galaxy as well.
I suspect this creature is merely a large razortail or perhaps an especially vicious malverine, but I have established this observation post to be the first Dominion explorer to learn the truth. With luck, I can befriend the beast. Such creatures are known to hoard away many peculiar treasures that may be of great value.
BIG GRAW OBSERVATION - DAY 003
Doctor Grodinus recording. At last, I have seen the creature, and it is indeed a monstrous beast! Powerful and huge, I watched with my own eyes as Big Graw crushed the skull of an orbitog and swallowed it whole! The monster would certainly be capable of crushing a man flat with a swipe of his hand or - and this is what I find peculiar - slaughtering the entire village of primitives nearby. What manner of alpha predator would not feast upon such a ready food source? Could it be that Big Graw really does feel some sort of attachment for the primitives? I must investigate this further. The next time the beast appears, I shall make contact in the name of the Dominion!
BIG GRAW OBSERVATION - DAY 012
Doctor Grodinus recording. The mutant gorganoth Big Graw - I have had ample time to identify the source species of this monstrosity - has emerged at last from its slumber. It appears to be lethargic, even relaxed. Now is surely the time to make myself known to him. I shall leave this channel open to continue recording this momentous event.
Hello! BIG GRAW! I am friend! You understand "friend"? Yes, yes! Good! Come this way. You have intelligence in those eyes, I think. That's it. Closer still.
Big Graw, great and mighty Big Graw! My name is Doctor GroAAAAAAAWGGH!
[The remaining audio cannot be accurately represented in text form, which is probably for the best.]
INVENTORY
Items/Destination/Notes
Twelve (12) Pieces (Misc.) Eldan Artifacts, Broken/Cassopolis, Korol Province, Cassus/Handle with care.
Four (4) Lots Squirg Eggs/Zax Estate Residence 17, Nord-Suda Continent, Bezgelor/DO NOT OPEN.
Seven Hundred (700) Lots Squirg Eggs/Darkspur Nebula - Transmit on 8371.22 at coordinates 78.3 -297 -1009.12/Go ahead and open, but not until you transmit on that frequency.
One Hundred Twenty-Four (124) Lots Small Arms (Misc.)/Tremor Ridge, Algoroc, Nexus/Marauder defense discount applied.
Forty-Seven (47) Crates Zubble-Bubble by Protostar (Recalledberry)/Protostar Flavor Research and Toxin Recycling Planet 22-C, Quadrant 7-G, The Protostar Cluster/Do not allow Zubble-Bubble by Protostar (Recalledberry) to exceed recommended temperatures. Fatal explosions may result from failure to follow this recommendation. Do not allow Zubble-Bubble by Protostar (Recalledberry) to be consumed by organic or artificial beings. Fatal explosions may result from failure to follow this recommendation.
Two Hundred (200) Lots Draken Bones (Assorted, Guaranteed Ancestor-Infused)/Bloodfire Village, Deradune, Nexus/DO NOT OPEN.
Four Hundred (400) Cases Dolph's Lager/Gnoxville, Thayd, Nexus/Bonus paid for speedy delivery.
[An inventory list of experimental medical supplies recently delivered to Touchdown Site Bravo and their intended uses].
288 Units OXYMETACYCLOMIDE
Temporarily ameliorates the effects of long-term sleeplessness and allows full and complete function for up to two standard weeks before developmental degradation begins. Authorized for short-term use only!
914 Units QUADRIPORCONEX
Only known experimental cure for hypothetical disease cubig fever. Administer within 48 hours of first symptoms (headache, sweating, light oinking). If failure to administer within 48 hours occurs, extermination of the cubig fever host is grudgingly recommended.
99 Units SKEECHBITE SALVE
For mild bites that break the skin only. Apply directly to the affected area. For Skeech-caused amputations, consider SKEECHBITE STUMP-CAULK.
99 Units SKEECHBITE STUMP-CAULK
For Skeech-caused amputations in which the limb can be recovered for reattachment. Apply directly to the affected area. Short-term use only.
0 Units SKEECHBITE PERMANENT STUMP-SEALANT (Backordered)
20,031 Units PROTOCYLLIN ALL-PURPOSE ANTIBIOTIC
Apply to infected area daily. In case of internal infection, consume daily. If infection persists, consult an actual doctor, not the Protostar Discount "Medications 'n' Things" Catalogue Vol. 12.
AUTHOR'S FOREWORD
So you've decided to raise allegedly domesticated hookfoots for fun and profit! Congratulations. You're joining a literally unknown number of happy and rugged individualists who have entered into this new and exciting cottage industry. Trust me when I say, once you read this book, you'll be "hooked" on hookfoots, too!
As you almost certainly know, hookfoots are extremely intelligent, vacuum-adapted predators that usually dwell on asteroids and airless planetoids. Moving from space-rock to space-rock with the delightfully hooked feet that give them their name, in the wild these charismatic killers instinctively home in on ambient life energy via poorly understood sensory organs, and then feed directly on the energy of their victims. Of course, when properly trained they provide companionship, protection, and many potential and hypothetical military applications.
If you're ready to start your own hookfoot ranch, there's literally NOTHING stopping you except the hookfoots themselves, and on page 79 you will find a formula for a really effective hookfoot sedative that also makes a great space-paint remover. Once properly sedated, drag them back to your ranch via a licensed hookfoot-mover and you'll be caring for and feeding your newly domesticated hookfoot in no time! Just make sure you've gotten rid of any pets or family members who could prove troublesome. Did I say "gotten rid of"? I meant "taken care of"! Also, not murdered! Simply have them leave the premises, as the hookfoot can only imprint on one individual at a time, and you do NOT want to see what a hookfoot can do to your family. The pets you should probably sell, even a well trained hookfoot will snap up a space-pup in one bite and drain that adorable little sucker's very life essence in minutes, and then the family, who should be in hiding, remember, will blame you for it.
Anyway, I can't stress this enough - once you commit to the hookfoot lifestyle, you'll never want to make a living any other way. I know I don't! That's why I've written all these books about domesticating hookfoots.
Look, I get it. Your friends bought you this book as a gag gift. Who would domesticate these things? They're monsters! They will SUCK OUT your life force with their space-fangs!
I wrote this thing on a dare. It was supposed to be a thinly disguised commentary on certain social upheavals on Vog Jadda 7, for a sociology class I'm taking at the University of Cassus extension campus. Somehow this got sent to the university publishing house instead. So go ahead and read the rest of it if you want, and thanks for purchasing it assuming you did so through an authorized vendor, but please, please DO NOT try to domesticate hookfoots. I can't take any more of these deaths on my conscience.
I wish I could take this book off the market, but I'm reliant on the revenue stream. Again, don't domesticate hookfoots. It's a gag.
Thanks for reading,
-Tarvin Stone
TABLE OF CONTENTS
01. Thanks for Choosing FreightSpace!
-Welcome aboard!
-Meet the FreightSpace team!
-Sign the FreightSpace liability waiver!
02. Longhaul: For the Long Haul
-Built "FreightSpace Strong"!
-Number One in Value!
-Not Number One in Accidental Atmospheric Venting Anymore!
03. Schematics: Outer Hull
-Keep atmosphere in and cosmic death out with certified FreightSpace outer hulls!
04. Schematics: Inner Hull
-Mount screens and decorations on certified FreightSpace inner hulls!
05. Schematics: Helm Control (Cockpit)
-Steer your Longhaul with reasonable accuracy!
06. Schematics: Engine Room
-Never lose track of your engine again with this convenient room!
07. Schematics: Life Support
-Because space shouldn't always be an icy deathtrap.
08. Schematics: BBZ-330 "Buzzbing" Drive
-20% less MRO (Mutative Radiation Overspill) than the BBZ-310!
09. Schematics: DZZ-7 "Dizzy" Spin Core
-27% less GRG (General Radiation Generation) than the DZZ-4!
10. Maintenance Tips
-Tip Number One: Only visit licensed FreightStar maintenance facilities!
11. Warranty
-Probably too long for you to read. Trust us!
12. FAQ
-Looking for exciting, low-paying work? Take the FreightSpace Associates Quiz!
13. Parts Vendors (Reputable)
-Reputability not technically guaranteed!
14. Parts Vendors (Disreputable)
-Disreputability can be safely assumed!
[A warning on the following page cautions that this manual can be used as a guide to self-repair, but the manufacturer reiterates that the ship should be serviced only at licensed FreightStar maintenance facilities. It is clear Captain Spigo has done all maintenance on the Dustrunner himself, however, violating the warranty on multiple occasions.]
DEPLOYMENT ORDERS: Operation Moonshot
OFFWORLD OP
Welcome to the Farside of Halon, mercs. You're standin' on one of this planet's last two moons. Hope ya weren't gettin' too settled in on Nexus, because ya got a lotta fightin' to do before ya get back there again.
Primary antagonists in the area are called Ikthians. Fish-men with tech that would make the Eldan sit up and take notice and no use for anyone but themselves. Got word from the Widow says they're kidnappin' Exiles and Dominion alike. I don't give two rock-pits about the Dommies, but if they're takin' our people for some kinda freaky fish-man science experiments, that crap ends right slaggin' now.
That ain't all they're up to. The main objective is that big, green, glowin' thing in the middle of the op zone. XAS tells me it's called the Plasmic Equalizer for some damn reason. It's a gun. A big, asteroid-blastin' gun. Techs say it might even be powerful enough to take out Nexus its own damn self. Don't know what the hell the Eldan were thinkin' buildin' the damn thing, but you ain't here to determine the secrets of the damned universe. You're here to smash them secrets in the face when they come against the Exiles. More specific-like, you're gonna make sure the Ikthians don't turn that Eldan superweapon against the Exile Fleet, or Thayd, or anywhere else there are good, hardworkin' Exiles who are lousy card players and probably owe me money.
I don't like it when people owe me money. And I don't like stinkin' fish-men. Flush 'em, mercs. Flush 'em good.
-Stonebreaker
SPECIES DESIGNATION: GRANOK
Species consists of sentient organic carbon-silicon structure. Potential design evident in genetic profile, although additional testing required to determine whether subquantum filaments have been manipulated by unknown source.
INTELLIGENCE: 12% Ikthian Norm
PHYSIOLOGY: 82% Ikthian Norm
AGGRESSION: 138% Ikthian Norm
RECOMMENDATION: Additional specimens optional. Elimination authorized.
SPECIES DESIGNATION: HUMAN
Species shows wide variety of genetic diversity within traditional carbon-based structure. No design evident in genetic profile. Evidence of relic genes bearing markers designated ELDAN in 34% of local population.
INTELLIGENCE: 17% Ikthian Norm
PHYSIOLOGY: 21% Ikthian Norm
AGGRESSION: 85% Ikthian Norm
RECOMMENDATION: Additional specimens with markers designated ELDAN requested. Elimination of other specimens authorized.
SPECIES DESIGNATION: DRAKEN
Species shows narrow variety of genetic diversity within traditional carbon-based structure. Evidence of isolated gene pool and low historic populations. No design evident in genetic profile.
INTELLIGENCE: 9% Ikthian Norm
PHYSIOLOGY: 68% Ikthian Norm
AGGRESSION: 226% Ikthian Norm
RECOMMENDATION: Additional specimens optional. Elimination authorized.
SPECIES DESIGNATION: MORDESH
Species shows advanced biological necrosis. Continued body function and brain activity due to artificial modification and nutritive supplements. Unknown disease detected in 100% of subjects.
INTELLIGENCE: 27% Ikthian Norm
PHYSIOLOGY: 71% Ikthian Norm
AGGRESSION: 31% Ikthian Norm (Unafflicted)/374% Ikthian Norm (Afflicted)
RECOMMENDATION: Additional specimens requested for study. Disease designated "Contagion" shows potential for future Ikthian operations. Elimination authorized if necessary. Use extreme caution when handling all biological samples.
SPECIES DESIGNATION: CHUA
Species shows wide variety of genetic diversity within traditional carbon-based structure. Moderate design evident in genetic profile. Genetic scan required to determine sex of subjects.
INTELLIGENCE: 28% Ikthian Norm
PHYSIOLOGY: 11% Ikthian Norm
AGGRESSION: 119% Ikthian Norm
RECOMMENDATION: Additional specimens optional. Elimination authorized.
SPECIES DESIGNATION: MECHARI
Species is entirely mechanical. Clear evidence of technology designated ELDAN. Genetic profile not applicable.
INTELLIGENCE: 86% Ikthian Norm
PHYSIOLOGY: 102% Ikthian Norm
AGGRESSION: Variable
RECOMMENDATION: Technology designated ELDAN is of utmost interest to the Cortex. Capture required. Elimination authorized only to save Ikthian life.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
This silo contains the first of our large-scale terraforming experiments, and I am extremely satisfied with our initial results. The device channels pure primal energies, creating an elemental matrix upon which mass is defined and then manifested. Although I generally avoid grandiose statements, in this case I will make an exception: we have indeed achieved the power of creation.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Ohmna's little Skeech vermin have somehow infested this silo. Nothing infuriates quite like the sight of these little blue pests. Perhaps I will significantly increase the intelligence of one of their number, and watch what happens as it attempts to reason with its more primitive brethren. I'm certain Ohmna will be absolutely fascinated with the outcome.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Nazrek! That loathsome wretch! I accessed the holorecords which exposed his cruel enhancement of the Skeech known as Lucent. Such a tragic end to an innocent victim, torn to shreds by his confused and frightened kinsmen! Does Nazrek's depravity know any bounds? Mark my words. Lucent will be vindicated.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The extent of Skeech stupidity is truly astonishing. For countless generations they have ventured into this cave in order to worship the massive beast that lives here, and for countless generations they have been devoured by the beast for doing so. I'm certain my more introspective colleagues might see some kind of comparative allegorical significance in this behavior, but I personally just find it amusing.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My little Skeech are so interesting! Having witnessed the ongoing slaughter of their kind by the massive, hairy predator to the south of here, many of them have started to worship this large elemental humanoid as a means of protection. Fascinating! Perhaps this is how even we first learned to choose our gods.
Jariel: The Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The terraforming experiments in this facility are now complete. The Makers have assured me that construction of the Primal Focuses is on schedule, and we will soon embark on the first phase of the Nexus Project. This is indeed a glorious day for the Orders. It seems there is truly nothing that we cannot achieve.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
With my aid, the Makers have created a machine to create elemental life forms from pure primal fire. The infusion process is complicated, and well beyond the often blunt mechanical minds that are characteristic of their order. Regardless, the life forms do display a dangerous beauty. The Pell seem especially enamored with them. Perhaps I will share the secrets of their making with our simple servants.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
With my aid, the Makers have created a machine to create elemental life forms from pure primal fire. The infusion process is complicated, and well beyond the often blunt mechanical minds that are characteristic of their order. Regardless, the life forms do display a dangerous beauty. The Pell seem especially enamored with them. Perhaps I will share the secrets of their making with our simple servants.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The recent malfunction of the prototype terraformer has resulted in an interesting geologic anomaly. As the device no longer rotates, the balance of the primal matrix is no longer maintained. The result? A small crystalline outgrowth on the ground beneath this actuator. Despite my reservations, the Shapers have requested that I leave the device on, as they are interested in the long-term results of this situation.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I am furious about the recent decision to allow the continued operation of this malfunctioning terraformer. Its very existence is a disgrace to our Order! I know it was Vorion who acquiesced to the Shaper's request, so that they could observe the long-term effects of this stationary actuator. Fools! Perhaps I shall throw them all into these volcanic pools, so they can more closely observe the results of this defect!
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have constructed an early prototype of an AI construct I am calling "the Caretaker". Early tests of its capabilities have been successful, although a number of glitches in its neural architecture often result in systemic network fractures. Despite these setbacks, the Pell have become very interested in the Caretaker, and I often find them interacting with his various nodes...
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have constructed an early prototype of an AI construct I am calling "the Caretaker". Early tests of its capabilities have been successful, although a number of glitches in its neural architecture often result in systemic network fractures. Despite these setbacks, the Pell have become very interested in the Caretaker, and I often find them interacting with his various nodes...
Choose the Lopp life. Choose a Lopp job. Choose a village. Choose a bride. Choose a great big shiny pile of shinies, choose kurg-washers, kurg, compact shinies and underwater shinies and electrical shinies and shinies and shinies and more shinies! Choose friends. Choose hat. Choose spear. Choose future. Choose bride. I say that already? Choose kurg again because Lopp love kurg. Choose shinies. Choose Lopp life.
But Lopp say why? Lopp learn secret. Lopp not have to choose. Lopp choose not to choose! Lopp choose something else. Why? Who cares! Lopp not need reasons when Lopp have Lolli-Lopps!
-Anonymous
[This instructive book by the famed Lopp bounty hunter Marshal Yubbi outlines the basics of Lopp combat. It is not a lengthy book.]
SPEAR
Spear is chosen weapon of Lopp, especially. Most Lopp make own spear or inherit spear from family. Spear really useful! Spear make holes in things with the stabbing. Also useful to see how deep water is before walking kurg across it. And for stabbing!
KURG
Kurg! Every Lopp love kurg. Lot of kurg to love! But kurg also useful weapon. Why? Big! Way bigger than Lopp! Kurg-stomp work just as good as spear-hole, if not hunting! If are hunting, kurg-stomp good for tenderizing meat!
CRAZY BIG-FOLK WEAPONS
Big-folk make lots of crazy weapons! But Nexus big scary place. Makes sense! Lopp love spears, but Lopp have to learn guns too. Just remember: point the glowy end away from face!
RUNNING
Lopp's best friends are hippity-hoppity feet! Stay out of way, and be Lopp brave. Then lure baddies into scariness! Lots of big scaries on Nexus. Also, could just run away. Running always good for Lopp! Good exercise too.
TEETH
I know! Controversial. But Lopp have good teeth for the chompy-chomp! Get bitey. Go crazy! Nobody expects Lopp bites! Just make sure not to bite somebody trying to bite you already. That gets complicated.
SPEAR
Really! Best weapon! Been a while since we talked about it. Don't forget! Also good for hanging laundry, or for measuring how far Lopp can jump. And the stabbing! Always the stabbing.
[This malfunctioning copy of the Explorers Union Handbook is stuck on the first page of footnotes.]
1. As first reported by Aurin documentarian Jain Spikeroot in the award-winning holodoc "Burning Harvest: The Fireshale Farmers of Cairn Beta."
2. Red, blue, a standard multitool, twelve, a Cassian eel, seven, and "pumera punch," respectively.
3. Not to be confused with The Appropriate Response, the popular Chuabilly group known for their hit holotune "Nineteen Nebula Nights," which knocked Vion Septima's "Dominus Reborn" from the top spot after the latter's record-breaking 214-week stay at the top of the galactic charts.
4. Though popularly believed guilty, he was never convicted of the crime in a Dominion court. Therefore it was technically a revenge killing rather than a proper execution.
5. "Dreadnaught" Davidar, Broft "Bumbler" Bumstand, and "Sweet Plasma" Sprocketworth were not considered founding members of the union.
6. Bark is not recommended as a sustained source of nutrients, and the publishers of this handbook are not responsible for any allergic reactions that may result.
7. Excerpted from "The Man Who Shot Vigilance Lynx" by Kab Drinkmire. Used with permission.
8. A) Yes, B) No, C) Yes, D) Yes, E) Trick question, the so-called Ghost House has been legally removed from historical records, therefore it cannot be considered an official historical source - validity of these resources aside.
9. This is not the first such Mechari/Cassian marriage recorded in Dominion history, just the most high-profile.
10. Excerpted from "Maps are for Amateurs" by Dorian Walker. Used with permission.
11. The cause of the accident was ultimately determined to be neglected maintenance on the spindrive coolant system, although the official story was certainly more inspiring - especially for propaganda purposes.
12. Thirteen.
13. Twelve.
TRANSMISSION JZ-007341
Axis Vonotron reporting.
LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR
STATUS
Progress toward achieving the ICI's objectives proceed ahead of schedule. The Eldan facilities at this exo-site have been relatively simple to bring back up to operational status.
-The cloning devices have been brought to full functionality and have been successfully tested.
-After temporarily disguising ICI assets as Eldan to prevent dangerous interactions, we were able to gain control of all constructs on-site.
-These constructs include the augmentors that will be crucial to the final stage of the plan. Augmenting mindless clones and using them against our enemies should be both cruel and effective. Fitting justice for the Exiles.
ONGOING CONCERNS
-The various Eldan constructs, including augmentors, are securely under ICI control. The Eldan data network that controls the constructs, however, is not and cannot be made completely secure. Yes, as expected, this exo-site also shows signs of being part of a wider, possibly planetwide web of Eldan tech.
-This Caretaker may be a useful subject of further research. He claims at times to be simultaneously aware of other points on this planet, and my records indicate he has correctly described weather conditions and other random events happening simultaneously elsewhere on Nexus.
Explosions echoed through the woods, followed by the crack of centuries-old trees snapped in two. Plumes of dark smoke soared over the forests of Arboria.
Arwick Redleaf stood beside his queen, as the massive Dominion machine rumbled closer. The size of it was almost impossible to believe. It had landed weeks ago, along with thousands of Dominion troops, and had immediately started consuming wide swaths of forests through its gaping metal maw.
A Planet Reaper.
Arwick clenched his fists, his claws digging painfully into his palms. Every instinct told him he should run forward and fight, but as the First Consort, his duty was to protect Queen Myala.
"We need to go," he said. "You're not safe here."
"That's sweet," said the queen, "but we have to wait here. The Exiles will be here soon."
"They're more than three hours late," he growled. "And they're the ones that got us into this mess in the first place."
"Arwick," she said, gently but firmly. "Not now."
Arwick held his tongue, but they both knew he was right. The Exiles had discovered their world while running from the Dominion, and despite his protestations, the queen had welcomed them in. They were likeable enough, and they had left within a few days, but their visit led the empire to Arboria. Soon afterwards, the Planet Reapers had come.
The Aurin began their next assault. A boulder tumbled through the air, launched from one of their few remaining catapults. It majestically deflected off what looked like a communications antenna on the mile-long machine, leaving a small dent.
Arwick heard the echo of faint cheers. Somewhere in the woods, a crew started the laborious process of reloading another.
To the east, a number of Aurin warriors had managed to climb the side of the Planet Reaper, explosive charges strapped to their backs. Almost immediately, bright flashes of weapons fire erupted from the forest below, as scattered Dominion soldiers methodically shot at them. An Aurin warrior fell to the forest floor, followed by another.
Suddenly, the sound of starship engines complicated the cacophony. Arwick looked up and saw dozens of Exile transport ships descending from orbit. They fired at the Dominion troops as they approached the extraction point, offering cover for those few Aurin who were still alive.
Queen Myala turned to Arwick.
"You have to go," she said. "But I'm staying. I can't leave Arboria behind."
"No, Myala!" Arwick replied. "We need you to lead us. If you stay here, you'll die. But I swear to you by all that I am, we will come back and finish this."
Myala looked out at the devastation that the Planet Reaper had wrought. On the distant horizon, she could see the others approaching.
The Exile transports landed in the clearing beyond, kicking up grass and leaves. Arwick held out his hand. With a resigned sigh, she took it, and they both started running.
Filed by "Ramscoop" Sunjack, Exile News Network
The Torine Sisterhood. Who are these mysterious, well-armed females haunting the forests and woodlands of planet Nexus? How did they arrive on this far-flung Eldan world beyond the Fringe? And are they potential allies for the Exiles? Or are they enemies that threaten everything we're trying to accomplish on this world?
Bold Exile explorer Dorian Walker was the first to encounter the Torine sisters in the wilds of Celestion, famously saying they were both the "most exhilarating and frightening" women he had ever met. He barely escaped with his life. He was able to ascertain some clear facts about mysterious warrior women:
- They speak a form of archaic Cassian, implying they are of Cassian origin.
- They wield massive swords in the style of the old Cassian swordmaidens, who still serve in the Dominion military to this day.
- They derive their name from that of Tresayne Toria, the fabled Cassian heroine who is said to be the mother of Dominus, the first emperor.
- They worship a "life goddess" they call Vitara.
- They are quite long-lived for humans, or reckon time by another method, for the youngest Torine sister Dorian Walker encountered claimed to be more than one hundred years old.
What can we conclude from these facts? A great deal, dear reader. Although additional research is warranted (assuming it can be safely carried out), this reporter is prepared to propose the following hypotheses:
- The Torine Sisterhood is directly descended from Tresayne Toria and her entourage. Yes, the fabled swordmaiden truly did reach the planet of the Eldan as Dominus claimed!
- This proves that Dominus himself was born on Nexus, and Exile scientists would do well to search for clues concerning his origins. Understanding the secrets of the Torine means understanding the secrets of the Luminai... and perhaps, victory over the Dominion!
- Despite their Cassian origins, the Torine appear to have no love for the Dominion. Indeed, their entire culture, such as it is, appears bent on protecting the Focus of Life and their goddess, Vitara. If Exiles can reach an understanding with these warrior women, the Torine could become valued allies. At the very least, antagonizing them is a bad idea.
Perhaps most incredibly, this reporter has uncovered a great deal of circumstantial evidence - including testimony from the Torine themselves - that Tresayne Toria still lives somewhere on Nexus. How this is possible after so many centuries is unknown for now, but considering the purported lifespans of the sisters Dorian Walker encountered in Celestion, this reporter is willing to stake his reputation on this hypothesis and expects full credit for the discovery should this prove true.
("Ramscoop" Sunjack is a freelance reporter and explorer who was among the first media personalities in the Exile Fleet to make the journey to Nexus. A version of this story first appeared as part of his independent news broadcast, "Ramscooped!")
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What makes the Grundleburn Tele-Matic Mk. III worth your hard-earned space-money? Three things:
- Value!
- Affordability!
- Low prices!
- And, to some extent, reliability!
But don't take my word for it just because my name's on the product. Our customers speak for themselves!
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Professor Orlo Vekov, Mordesh Alchemist
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So what are YOU waiting for? Order your Grundleburn Tele-Matic Mk. III right now!
[This Torine epic is written in a distinctive form of archaic Cassian that your datachron easily translates into the modern form - although it loses most of the rhyme structure along the way.]
The gods of life and death called for her,
She alone, among the worthy, called to the stars.
The shining ones, the metal men, descended in ships of silver and gold,
To take her to the heavens, never to return.
A cold and dreamless sleep passed in an instant,
Years, days, centuries, it was no matter,
For she awoke at the time of their choosing,
Within the hidden chambers of their home beyond the Fringe.
And what became of the one who would be Blademother?
And whence came the son who would leave her for the stars?
Speak her name: Tresayne Toria, swordmaiden, Blademother.
Know the answers are not hers to give, nor yours to demand.
She sang to the stars and was heard.
She called to her sisters, and they became one.
And when the child of her heart grew to be a new god,
She bade him to depart, for she had found a new purpose.
And in the days before the Blademother,
Where did Vitara seek solace?
Who befriended the goddess of life
When the swordmaiden's call did not ring in the still and silent mist?
For when the Blademother's progeny fled to the stars,
And Vitara called in the dark,
The Blademother answered, steel in hand.
Sisters of the Torine, daughters of Cassus, children of Vitara, arise!
For your goddess calls you to serve life above all.
She calls from afar, reaching through the world.
Embracing the smallest branch, the mightiest Eldertree,
Lifting the living, swordmaidens of old,
To the stars on wings of gold.
- Swordsister Althea of the Jagged Edge
DAY 27
At last, the breakthrough I have been waiting for! The solution is stable. It has taken many months, but I believe I have finally perfected my Vitalus supplement solution. If my calculations are correct, merely a small amount of this simple formula added to Lazarin's Vitalus Serum will extend the usefulness of the serum by nearly 500%! This breakthrough could well prove to be as important to the survival of our people as the invention of Vitalus itself. Our supplies will quintuple overnight. We need not fear long voyages of exploration and discovery. And if I can build on these successes, perhaps one day a Mordesh need only receive an annual Vitalus shot - as long as it's mixed with Doctor Drugaur's supplement.
Naturally, there will be questions. How can I prove the supplement really works? Don't we need to wait and see? And what if it doesn't work? All valid and viable questions, of course, and ones I am excited to explain.
- Of course I can prove it really works! I'm not Ravenous, am I?
- I did wait and see! And look at me. Fit as a fiddle. I'm even preparing answers for questions no one has yet queried.
- If it doesn't work? Not an issue in any way. Because it does. Why do these hypothetical fools ask such querulous questions?
Why? Why? Why? Whywhywhwywyhhw?
I feel fffrantic. Thiiis strikes me as strrrrange. Blood. Blood. Blood. Test. Testing. No! Vitalus shot. Will help, must help, will help, willlll. Supplement. Ffffailing. Fresh. Need. Fresh. Serum. Flesh. Flesh serum. Fresh. Fleshhhhhhhhhtggugphgghh
[The flashing red light after this last word indicates the voice-to-text function of the journal ceased recognizing the sounds Doctor Drugaur was making at the time. A gallant effort was made to finish recording.]
Victor tapped the skull with a stylus, waiting for it to blink again. Perhaps he'd imagined it. At times he felt the anchors of his sanity slipping away along with the minutes. The serum. Missing ingredient. Time running out.
On every available surface around his hunched figure, flasks bubbled, flames flickered, and specimens implored in reedy croaks for finality. Their voices reminded him that Mina had come by. Then he recollected that she was dead. Thus it must have been Lucy uttering some forgotten i nquiry.
"Leg... itches," the head moaned from its acid bath. Victor's machinery dutifully recorded it.
"You have no leg," he said. "No body. A shoddy vessel. Only the mind matters." As if in repudiation, the dozens of torsos covering the benches and lining the walls began wailing a dolorous chorus: "Legitches... legitches..."
As the litany subsided, he tried to recapture his focus. Missing ingredient. Hours of sanity left. Serum. Thinking in circles, unable to refrain from speculations long discar ded. A gnawing suspicion hinted he had wasted time refusing to accept that the body was mere life-support. Absently, he nudged the skull in the tray, inhaling the acrid reek of the chemicals in which it floated.
More voices. The Ravenous, clawing at the door, their screeches twining in hideous unison with a shrill resurgence from the specimens. So infuriating, these frequent interruptions as he verged on making a vital connection. Frequent? Incessant. No remembrance of all the good he'd accomplishe d. Sourly, he recalled how they'd laughed at his notion of defying mortality - like his lung-pox vaccine or when he'd vowed to disprove Barcellius' Third Theorem. Missing ingredient.
The howls outside rose in volume. Didn't the fools know scientific progress was founded on heaps of failure and sacrifice? They called it a Contagion, but perhaps it was the serum, a truth serum baring false natures that had tainted a once great race for generations.
He barely stifled the impulse to slam the drifting b ulk of his condenser into the racks of boiling fluids. It was the Contagion coursing through his veins. With monumental effort, he forced his ire down. So close to a serum. He was Victor Lazarin! Success had always been his destiny!
His shadow on the wall twisted strangely as he bent over the tray and murmured, "I'm so close. You believe, don't you?"
Mina's watery eyes softened. The sweet fragrance of the sugarblossoms cushioning her head that he'd foolishly taken for a tray was overwhelming. "So. .. close," she croaked.
He kissed her for what felt like eternity, until the scent of petals reverted again to acid. He forced his eyes open to find his gaze met by the oozing sockets of the skull in the tray, black tongue lolling grotesquely, rotting cheeks still wet from his saliva. The gallery of specimens and Ravenous alike echoed his howls of rage as he clawed and crushed the skull to a bloody pulp.
And suddenly, with stunning clarity, he realized the missing ingredient.
[An analysis of sorts carried out by what passes for a Skeech intellectual regarding the origins of the Star-Comm facility and its true purpose.] Skeech SKEECH Skeech power! Skeech space Skeech SKEECH gods Skeech OLD gods Skeech Skeech Skeech! Skeech Skeech GREEN Skeech Skeech SKEECH, Skeech SKEECH lightning burn Skeech!
Skeech Skeech strange Skeech Skeech SKEECH vines Skeech power! Skeech Skeech vines Skeech feed Skeech SKEECH god-thing! SKEECH Skeech GOD-THING Skeech AWAKEN Skeech SKEEch Skeech! Skeech SKEECH Skeech stars! Skeech big green Skeech SKEECH! CUBE Skeech SKEECH! Skeech Skeech Skeech.
Skeech,
Skeech SkeechSkeech-perimental SKEECH!
Soldiers of the Dominion, today you march for glory!
Our landing zone is at the edge of Levian Bay in an area the locals call Seaspine Point. We have many Dominion citizens occupying the area, but dangerous locals and the accursed Exiles are violating our sacred right to this world. It is here that we begin the fight to take this planet from those traitorous scum!
Primary mission objectives include:
- Support for the Artemis Zin expedition to Star-Comm Station.
- Securing the Star-Comm Station facility.
- Elimination of local threats including natives designated Pell and Skeech.
- Logistical support for DRED weapons researchers.
Standing orders:
- Defense of Dominion citizens with lethal force.
- Claiming uncontrolled territory.
- Kill orders against any and all Exiles.
Levian Bay is where it all begins, soldiers. The gods have offered up their own world to we proud inheritors of the Eldan legacy. Now we must prove we are worthy of this gift and defend it with our very lives!
Kezrek Warbringer
[This appears to be an in-progress script for a holo report describing Artemis Zin's first meeting with the Caretaker avatar found in Star-Comm Station. It's sure to be the subject of an upcoming broadcast.]
This is Lady Artemis Zin, recording live from the surface of the mysterious planet of the gods, Nexus! In just a moment, we'll be taking you inside a massive Eldan communications facility in Levian Bay. But first, I'd like to introduce you to a new friend of mine. He calls himself... the Caretaker.
I first heard of the Caretaker in initial, highly classified reports the Exploration Society received from the Dominion expedition first dispatched to claim the planet. He - for he definitely appears male - is a holographic AI construct that appears to be present in many Eldan facilities on Nexus. It is believed, and claimed by the construct himself, that he was created to manage and maintain the Eldan's many diverse operations here. But you know me, viewers. Pat explanations have never been my cup of Altraxian tea, so I decided to go straight to the source.
One thing the initial reports didn't mention? The Caretaker is quite charming! He is also frustratingly elusive, despite an outward demeanor that appears to be completely helpful. Clearly, he has been programmed with safeguards that do not allow him to reveal too much of what he refers to, incessantly, as "the Project." This is not the first time I have come across this term, and I doubt it will be the last.
Charming or helpful, the Caretaker may be the key to my search for the Elder Cube. If my research proves correct, Star-Comm Station in Levian Bay contains this amazing relic, and it, in turn, is the key to understanding what the Eldan were trying to accomplish on their world. Already we know this planet is covered with extensive complexes and still-functioning systems designed to create and manipulate life, but to what end? How did they accomplish their great works? And where have they gone? To where, exactly, did the gods ascend?
I cannot guarantee it, but I believe the answers to these questions start with the Caretaker.
It is fortunate that this Caretaker appears to be fully functional. I have heard many reports of malfunctioning Caretakers who have proven to be quite dangerous, but it's my belief even the most broken Caretaker node may be repaired with enough knowledge. Perhaps I will have the opportunity to test this belief at Star-Comm Station.
Kevo, as usual, is skeptical.
[This specialty publication is designed to appeal to the baser instincts of a largely Granok readership.]
FEATURED CONTENTS
ROCK TALK: Your rockin' correspondence.....002
IGNEOUS NIGHTS: Pictorial.....006
INTERVIEW: Krag Studrok rocks our world!.....012
METAMORPHICA: Lava-hot fiction by erotic powerhouse "Rocknonymous".....022
CHIPS, FLAKES, AND GRAVEL: All the news and pix that wouldn't fit.....036
------------------
ROCK TALK
Long time reader, first time writer.
Been a fan of Rocks for a long time, especially the letters page, but never thought I'd have any kinda experience worth writin' in about, ya know what I mean?
The first thing I noticed about her was her shine. Real polish on this one, reflective in all the right places with a walk that makes a fella feel metamorphic and boulders like I ain't seen since the War of Gnox. I was on guard duty and hadn't seen any trouble all night until she walked up.
"Hey there... lieutenant?" she asked me.
"Ha! Do I look like a stinkin' Dommie? I'm just an old-fashioned merc trooper. Don't call me 'lieutenant,' I work for a livin'."
"Good," she purred, and the moon glinted off her shiny, light-blue shoulders in a way that left nothin' to the imagination. "Because I got a job for ya, soldier."
I never seen rocks move like that, but a few seconds later, guard duty was the last thing on my mind.
[The text reads CONTINUED ON THE NEXT PAGE, but the text reader appears to be stuck on this page.]
Prepared for the Widow by Agent RM-86
Initial reports indicate we were beaten to the punch on this one. I accept full responsibility for this oversight and will freely accept whatever punishment you deem necessary, my lady. It is my hope that the information I was able to acquire from the Dominion's data networks will ameliorate the situation.
ITEM 1: We have confirmed that the infamous Lady Artemis Zin, as well as her aide, the Draken man-at-arms Kevo, are at the Star-Comm Station facility. We believe this is definitely related to her publicly stated ambitions to discover a famous Eldan artifact.
ITEM 2: We have ascertained that this artifact, the so-called "Elder Cube," may well be contained within Star-Comm. Unfortunately, at this time we have no reliable way of accessing the facility. We are working on infiltration for more reliable information in this regard. The best bet at this time appears to be a mechanical infiltrator, but I fear that a standard spybot - even in disguise - would stand out amid the many Eldan constructs still functioning in the area.
ITEM 3: As the name seems to imply, much of this facility appears geared toward communication. But communication with whom? I do not believe even Lady Zin has figured this out. Yet.
[This remainder of this report summarizes the specific technical details the Black Hoods' agents used to acquire this data and could reveal some leaks in the Dominion's secrecy apparatus.]
- Prepared by the Exploration Society -
Based on preliminary reports, the Exploration Society has selected Levian Bay as a primary landing site for newly arrived Dominion citizens on the planet Nexus. Although much of this area is still untamed, the might of the empire will soon bring the natives to heel and reveal previously unknown secrets of the Eldan themselves.
The primary landing zone in the area has been designated SEASPINE POINT. The Dominion military will ensure the area is secure from Exile infiltration and native attacks, an ongoing operation that will no doubt soon be brought to a glorious conclusion.
Perhaps the most noteworthy site at Levian Bay, beyond the excellent natural harbor and highly defensible promontories, is STAR-COMM STATION. This facility, the name of which has been discovered in Eldan reference works dating back to the pre-war era on Cassus, appears to be a powerful Eldan communications facility designed to broadcast signals across vast gulfs of space - and, perhaps, time. Until the site can be accessed internally, full details of the station will have to wait. Noted Society member Artemis Zin and her aide Kevo are leading an exploratory expedition to the facility, and results are eagerly anticipated.
Native entanglements are, sadly, to be expected, at least until military operations can eradicate all interlopers and savages. Take precautions when traveling near the small blue creatures known as SKEECH, a nasty little species who are known to have developed a taste for human flesh since the discovery of Nexus. We have also been notified of a local PELL tribe which could prove far more dangerous. This tribe appears to be affiliated with the power of primal water, and their priests - while primitive by galactic standards - have mastered the ability to manipulate this elemental energy with great skill. They may even be able to influence major weather systems. Caution is advised until these Pell can be negotiated with or, more likely, eliminated.
Questions? Please contact your local Exploration Society representative via approved channels. For questions specifically related to Lady Artemis Zin, please add the words "Lady Zin" to the subject of your message. No autograph requests, please.
Pay heed, citizen, and hear of the Vigilant Virtues, the Scions who bestowed them upon us all, and the nature of their blessings.
THE STRENGTH OF AZRION THE CONQUEROR
The firstborn son of Dominus was born to conquer, but had the temperament to command the respect and loyalty of his enemies as well as his allies. The only one of Dominus's children, the Scions, to also become emperor, he was therefore (with Dominus) one of two emperors to be canonized by the Vigilant Church.
The Blessings of Azrion bestow physical power and fortitude to those who embody this virtue.
THE COURAGE OF TRISTAN THE VALIANT
Tristan's skill and fearlessness in battle earned her the nickname Tristan the Valiant. She is a goddess of Courage to the Vigilant Church, and a patron saint of Dominion Swordmaidens. Tristan's blessings bestow heart and resilience to the Vigilant.
THE JUSTICE OF BRONOS THE JUST
Bronos was the impartial judge among the Scions, the brother whom the rest turned to for a fair hearing. It is no surprise that the house he founded would continue in the tradition of jurisprudence. The blessings of Bronos focus the soul and body to better serve the gods.
THE KNOWLEDGE OF GALEN THE ADEPT
Galen was determined to learn all he could of the Eldan's secret, ancient knowledge. He studied many scientific disciplines during his lifetime, as well as exploring many worlds beyond Cassus. His house founded the Royal Collegium. Galen's blessings include insight, creativity, and a gift with languages.
THE PURITY OF EVINDRA THE RIGHTEOUS
The Scion called Evindra was known for her honesty of spirit, purity of heart, and nobility of intentions. She was the longest-lived of the Scions, lasting long enough to see the first fifty years of her nephew Korol's reign as the third emperor. She never sought power for herself, but instead believed wholeheartedly in the rightness of the empire and worked diligently to support her father and those who ruled after him. Evindra's blessings include certitude, chastity, and forthrightness in service to the gods.
THE DEVOTION OF KOROL THE DEVOUT
Korol worshiped his father Dominus both figuratively and literally. He wrote many essays and tracts on his greatness and the glorious destiny of the Dominion. Alone among the Scions, he contributed directly to the Vigilant Codex. Those blessed by Korol are the finest healers and doctors in the empire, their hands guided by the gods themselves.
For more discussion and immersion in the Vigilant Virtues, consult the clergy at your local Vigilant temple or commit to meditative contemplation upon these words.
Lopp come to Ellevar looking for shinies, and Lopp not disappointed! If you also Lopp, or just big-folk who think like Lopp, maybe you are also looking for shinies and fun times. This guide for you!
WHAT SHINIEST OF SHINIES?
Hard to choose! Eldan shinies are good place to start. Who Eldan? Who knows? More to point, who cares? Good question! Answer is, big-folk like Exiles and Dominion! So Eldan shinies are shiny that shines twice: once when found, and again when sold by far-trader to big-folk!
BIG-FOLK LOSE SHINIES ALL THE TIME. Shinies of all kinds! These shinies best judged on case-by-case basis. Find smart far-trader or treasure hunter to help price your find!
LEGENDS OF MANY OTHER LOST SHINIES!
These are a thing! Biggest shinies of all are hoarded by the Big Green Death. You don't want to mess with BGD, she is bad times! But still, only way to get best shinies! What to do? Hire big-folk! Hasn't worked so far, but has to sometimes! Try to hire big horn folk for starters. They think big hunting times super-fun but don't care about shinies. I know! But true. Get all the shinies, big horn folk do all the killing!
Don't forget, little creatures can contain shinies too. Snoglugs! Steamgliders! Splorg! Shiny shells, shiny gas bladders, and shiny eyeballs, respectively. Shinies everywhere!
SERIOUSLY, SHINIES ARE EVERYWHERE! So go get them, treasure hunters!
[A selected playlist of the songs available on this Protostar Repeatable Automated Musical Accompaniment System, or PRAMAS, shows that the owner of this outdoor bar is a loyal Vigilant and a devoted citizen.]
ARTEMIX AND THE ZINTHETICS
- (You Know) Dominus Wasn't Reborn Yesterday
- Beyond the Fringe of My Heart
- Chua, Chua, Choose Me
AZRION CONNECTION
- More than a Hybrid
- Say, Say, Scion
- Vigilant Hearts Can't Be Broken
THE SINGING LEGIONNAIRE
- Kill the Exiles
- Death to the Exiles Forever
- Exiles Are Gonna Die (and I Don't Mind)
IMPERIAL CORPS OF FUNK-TELLIGENCE
- Cozmotronic Funk-Telligent Life form Kerplosion
- One Dominion Under the Groove-O-Matic
- Shake It Like a Broken Datachron
NEW MILLENNIALS
- (Girl You're) Terraformin' Me Down
- Heart Like a Spindrive
- Luminai, Lovin' You
LOWBORN LOUTS
- (Me Ma Was a) Mean-Eyed Dagun
- Marchin' off to War (The Trooper's Lament)
- Sally Slush Did Me Wrong
RAW TRANSCRIPT: INTERVIEW TA-142/AZ
NOT AUTHORIZED FOR RELEASE
IF FOUND, CONTACT DATACHRON ID KEVO021
DO NOT READ
ARTEMIS ZIN: You're live or maybe recorded with Artemis Zin from the surface of Nexus! Today I'm skipping my usual introductory monologue about my favorite topics - which are me, and to a lesser extent Kevo - to find out more about my very special guest: Commander Toric Antevian of the Radiant Legion!
TORIC ANTEVIAN: Good day, m'lady.
AZ: So formal. So charming. So Toric.
TA: What? What was that? Were you just doing a bit?
AZ: A what? I don't do "bits," darling. That was just me, describing you, of course.
TA: Well, it sounded like a bit. So what can I do for you, Lady - er, Miss - that is...
AZ: Artemis. My name is Artemis, Commander. Or may I call you Toric?
TA: I'd rather you didn't, if it's all the same to you.
AZ: Lovely, Toric. So charming.
TA: Stop that. Ow! And that.
AZ: Relax, it's an audio interview.
TA: I'm not sure what that - what I mean is, can we get on with this? I have maneuvers.
AZ: You certainly do.
TA: With the men.
AZ: Go on...
TA: The men of the Legion! Now please, just - please, ask your questions. There is work to do, and war afoot.
AZ: I do love when you talk that way. Why are you so flustered, darling? You know I'm just having fun.
TA: Artemis, this isn't funny. I believe in this. You make sport of it.
AZ: Are you saying you're tired of me?
TA: No, I - is that cambot still recording?
AZ: Of course not!
TA: Okay. Our... relationship. I'm not ashamed. But you must understand, duty always comes first. It must, or it is a word that means nothing. I will not let down the men and women I lead, and I will not be made sport of for entertainment. No matter how I... may feel.
AZ: About me?
TA: About you. Yes. Artemis, I -
AZ: I am certain I know what you're going to say. Don't bother. Let us get back to the interview, shall we?
TA: Sure. You'd better turn that cambot back on.
AZ: What? Oh, yes, right. But mark me, Toric Antevian, this conversation will continue. Now - begin recording, cambot - I'm here with Toric Antevian, commander of the Radiant Legion and an inspiration to billions of Dominion citizens, especially the lowborn Cassians who claim him as one of their own. Good to see you, Commander Antevian.
TA: And you, Lady Zin.
[Playback Paused]
[This collection of scraps and fragments appear to be a collection of Eldan statements and records assembled by the Pell in a haphazard fashion.]
Project is all we have... hoped for the procedure to achieve new greatness in these otherwise unimpressive... subjects show progress.
Primal matter and primal energy... interchangeable focus and concentration of powers equal... reach a state of equilibrium and self-sustaining... pressure variations.
... if the Project does not succeed, all work is... nothing can manifest a sufficient level of power suppression, but we believe... the others cannot understand what we have attempted. What we will... decide at a later time.
Primevals experiment wildly successful in terms of... every attempt at recapture has failed, recommend... protocols calling for extermination and reconstitution and cloning procedures will be appropriate for... the future of Nexus.
WELCOME TO THE BEGINNING OF YOUR ADOPT-A-RAVENOK ADVENTURE!
Everyone loves those cute, cuddly, feather-faced baby ravenok, and now you can too - in person, and for life! Just fill out this simple, legally binding form and deliver it to your nearest Adopt-A-Ravenok agent and you'll be cuddling your fluffy, feathery friend in no time!
SELECT COLOR: __Off-White
__Blue
__Pink
__Grayish
__Random
SELECT SEX: __M __F
OPT OUT OF ADOPT-A-RAVENOK MAILING LIST?
__NO, I wouldn't think of missing out on the news, values, and exciting information, are you kidding?
__YES, I'm a terrible being that probably should not be trusted with a baby ravenok and should think hard about the answer to this question.
WARNINGS AND DISCLAIMERS
1. - Do not feed baby ravenok raw meat for any reason. Even if they look at you with those eyes. Ravenok that consume raw meat cannot be reliably tamed and will almost certainly grow into terrifying kill-birds with a craving for your flesh.
2. - Baby ravenok can develop unhealthy attachments to power generators, autoturrets, and other charged technology, believing these objects to be their mothers. Even after seeing fellow baby ravenok come to a crispy end, they may persist in this behavior. Baby ravenok are not smart.
3. - Do not attempt to ride a ravenok without proper training. Proper training available for a small safety fee from Adopt-A-Ravenok Enterprises. See your Adopt-A- Ravenok agent for details.
4. - All prospective adopters must sign a sworn affidavit declaring they will not resell the baby ravenok, no matter how much the finest restaurants from the Fringe to the Galactic Core are paying.
5. - Leashes are not recommended for your new baby ravenok. Guaranteed ravenok transport cages are available for a small fee from Adopt-A-Ravenok Enterprises.
6. - The Protostar Corporation is merely an underwriter of the Adopt-A-Ravenok Enterprises Charity and Animal Rescue Program, and any profits that may come by way of this underwriting are perfectly legal and should not raise any eyebrows, qualms, concerns, moral dilemmas or most significantly lawsuits!
This public service announcement brought to you by the Protostar Corporation. Remember to try Protostar Mystery Poultry Wing Sandwiches wherever your favorite unidentified bird-derived products are sold, cooked, and consumed.
First Day of the Hunt
They tell me the beast is no typical monster. Bound to the very planet by infernal root and treacherous stem, the Hybrid is as much plant as animal, a demon and a blossom of death. It will not be the first such creature I have faced, but I must prepare. Every hunt is unique. I shall take my time, and study the beast.
Second Day of the Hunt
The jabbering little Lopp are little more than prey dressed up as merchants and playing at the hunt. They are not my targets today, but they will tell me of the Hybrid. This "stemdragon." They say it hoards some fantastic treasure, but I care not. The only thing I want from this Hybrid is a truly challenging hunt.
Third Day of the Hunt
I have followed the course the Lopp gave me, and told them I would bring news of any "shinies" I should find. A promise I shall keep, ridiculous as it may be, if the Lopp have treated with me honorably. They have no reason not to. The hoard is of no use to me. It is only the head of the Hybrid, my trophy, th at I seek.
I have emerged from a hidden cave network into a secluded glen cut off from the rest of the region. Now to study my prey from a distance... if I find it before it finds me.
Fourth Day of the Hunt
The Lopp will pay for this. This is no Hybrid! No "dragon"! There is nothing of the beast about this creature at all! It is a flower, nothing more. A large flower, true, but nothing a sharp blade cannot slice down in a single blow.
Still, only a fool rushes the hunt. I have found a place to observe the creature. Perhaps there is more to it than meets the eye. I released a few small decoybots disguised as jabbits to see what this stemdragon made of them. Then it came to life in an instant, snapping at one of them immediately. It barely damaged one of the decoys before giving up, however. The Lopp insist the thing ran them out of the valley. How? It is rooted to the very valley floor! Not even a robotic decoy was able to get itself caught by the stemdragon. What danger could it have posed to the Lopp? The vermin are making sport of me, I think. Tomorrow, I shall begin the hunt. I do not expect it to take long.
Fifth Day of the Hunt
The Hybrid fooled me, and earned its name, for my hunt does not go as planned. I knew it was fast, but it can move. I mean, really move - it erupted from the ground in a shower of earth and stone, roaring into the sky, and charged on strong legs of fibrous sinew! A dragon indeed, big as a shuttlecraft and fierce as a space-crazed pumera. Now I have become the prey, or so it must believe. But I am patient. This wound is not mortal. I can wait in this tree for some time. It must return to the soil eventually.
And when it does, I have a new plan. Trophies are overrated. I will burn this creature to ashes, or I shall die trying.
[The state of this journal and the lack of subsequent entries seems to indicate the Draken hunter who kept this journal went with the latter option.]
Toric Antevian, newly chosen to serve in the Radiant Legion, marched with his company on the rough road that led to Grudgel Downs.
In the east, the sky was a gunmetal gray that bled into the dark, purplish bruise of the horizon. Night was falling. The ground beneath them was covered in the damp, rotting leaves of late autumn, and the air was sickly sweet with the smell of decay.
The Legion had been on the march for weeks, rooting out heresy in the Westrun. A Vigilant priest had recently reported suspicions that the True Sons of Cassus, a heretical cult that had risen during the dark reign of Vorios the False, was practicing their unholy rituals in the lowborn village of Grudgel Downs.
At the front of the company, the Lamp of Korol was held aloft by the company's lampbearer. Toric's armor, polished in the hours before morning vigil, reflected its light. As the shadows closed in around them, Toric whispered the Prayer of the Legion, reciting the six Vigilant Virtues by name.
Grudgel Downs appeared from out of the gloom.
The village was blanketed in silence. Squat, mud-brick buildings were slung low and mean around a main square, where a massive bonfire burned with an intense heat that could be felt a hundred yards away. And just before the smell of cooking meat reached his nostrils, Toric saw the twisted figure strapped to a pole above the raging fire, wearing the charred vestments of a Vigilant priest.
Moments later, men burst in force from the dark buildings, wielding crooked blades, knives, and cudgels. Dozens more appeared from the surrounding woods. Dressed in the black, hooded garb of the True Sons of Cassus, their eyes reflected a murderous rage as they closed the distance to the hopelessly outnumbered Radiant Legionnaires.
The company's captain died in the first moments of battle, run through by a hooked spear. The Lamp of Korol fell to the ground, throwing the soldiers into shadow, and the screams of dying men echoed through the woods. Although the legionnaires were some of the finest soldiers in all of the Dominion, the enemy's numbers appeared too great to overcome.
And then, when it seemed all hope was lost, a light flared out like a star in the darkness.
Toric Antevian, eyes burning with an unshakable faith, held aloft the Lamp of Korol as his blade cut down foe after screaming foe. Calling out for the strength of Azrion and the courage of Tristan, his face aglow with a terrible resolve, Toric felled the blasphemers who had dared profane his Vigilant faith. "For the Scions!" he shouted, his sword cutting through flesh and bone, leaving behind a grisly wake of the slaughtered.
The sight of the young warrior inspired his embattled brethren. Fighting to Toric's side, the remaining men formed ranks and attacked. When the battle was over, heretic blood stained their blades and soaked the ground beneath them. And it was on Grudgel Downs that night, they say, that the Vigilant Star was born.
I gave the Chief Science Officer a go ahead on starting up Experiment 649 today. Following protocol with airborne chemicals, the Chem Lab is to be put on quarantine for the duration of the experiment. Chief Science Officer predicts positive results this time. I remain less optimistic.
Thank you for purchasing, renting, or stealing the FreightSpace HCL-47 Hypermagnetic Cargo Lifter for your project/war effort/subjugation/picnic. With the HCL-47, we're sure you'll be successful/victorious/profitable/relaxed. Here are just a few of the special features that set FreightSpace apart.
- FreightSpace's patented Micro-Suck Waves find the metals in any object - organic or mechanical - right before they attune a primal magnetometer to that frequency. Then they suck, lift, and manipulate with the same raw power that made the HCL-46 the best cargo lifter you'd ever need - until now, that is!
- Internal FreightSpace BalanceSure Gyroscopes ensure you'll never knock your giant metal-moving machinery off-balance or out of whack! Because nothing's more awkward than being knocked over by your own cargo.
- FreightSpace knows that operating levers and pushing buttons can be truly exhausting work, which is why the HCL-47 cab boasts 20% more head clearance than the HCL-46, all-new heated seating options, additional cup-holders, even a charger socket for your datachron so you'll never miss a call!
- Repulsion Mode is the latest time-saving feature from FreightSpace, and it's built right into the HCL-47! Yes, usually you'll want to be lifting - but sometimes, you need to repel things as fast as you can! By reversing the polarity of the neutron flow in the power convertors feeding into the HCL-47's central magnatron, you can turn your lifter into a serious pusher.
Approved for military uses by both FCON and the Dominion military.
[This diary - the latest of many, it seems - reveals Nerissa's secret life as Scarletta Bloodheart, writer of romance fiction both torrid and turgid.]
And Trees Also Have Roots
by Scarletta Bloodheart
The trees of her home village always struck the young matria as a bit too familiar. A bit too much like family. And like most families, the trees of Lushleaf had a few residents who didn't play by the rules. Neither did the trees.
Matria Fondi Hoogleheart was the third daughter of village hunters who had earned no great repute, she had never planned on taking over from her second cousin, the beautiful and righteous Matria Tanallyra Oakenheart. The unexpected and mysterious death of her predecessor, who did not survive an attempt to make peaceful contact with the enigmatic and savage stemdragons of Nexus, left a gaping wound in the Weave that young Fondi could not hope to heal so soon. Instead she was too focused on just keeping her new job. She certainly wasn't expecting her consorts to so quickly become so important to her, three extensions of her very spirit, helping her to navigate the first fragile steps of her stewardship of the village.
And she had certainly never expected to fall in love.
But on that first walk through the forests of Celesttttttttttttiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzz
FILE CORRUPTED! [RELOAD] [EXIT]
ALL THE RAVENOK RACING NEWS YOU CAN HANDLE!
In this issue: Racing forms! Ads for specially bred speed-enhancing splorg bait! Full-color holograms of all your favorite ravenok racers! AND MORE
CONTENTS
Page 04.....THE FUTURE OF RAVENOK RACING! It's the hottest new competitive, timed, animal-based sport on the Fringe - and beyond! Who's the greatest ravenok racer? Who's got the hunger to knock them off their lofty perch? And who will be the great ravenok racers of the future? We've got all the inside analysis!
Page 12.....RRI HALL OF FAME UPDATE! Who are the fastest ravenok of all time? Who rode those ravenok to greatness? We polled experts and our own reporters to find out, and you can see all our current rankings on the hall of fame charts. Will Feathered Fury finally reach the top spot, or will Beak Dancer maintain her three-issue winning streak? Can anyone break Chua jockey "Dangerous" Dozzi Nak's record of thirteen straight victories? Probably not, but you won't know until you read the article!
Page 16.....BLOOD ON THE TRACK! Will the tragic events of last year's Wilderrun 5000-Meter Dash be repeated, and if so, how many in the crowd might be slaughtered by aggressive, intelligent, predatory birds that are barely domesticated and generally pretty surly to begin with? We'll lay down the odds for all your bookmaking needs.
[Continued on next page]
And how, then, did these items come to be handed down to we inheritors of the Eldan legacy? Many ways, but all of them driven by a divine and unique purpose. No base understanding can arise from these relics without the vigilance of the true faith of our ancestors.
- Only the Vigilant can learn from the gods directly, and only the gods may state the true purpose of any relic. Anything else, no matter how scientifically justified, is mere guesswork.
- Only the Vigilant should come in contact with relics that once touched Eldan hands. This weakness in our souls, the need to touch that which the gods did touch, must be overcome before Vigilance becomes innate.
- Would the gods not expect their holy church to oversee their legacy? Who better? And who better than I to lead this effort? I, Bro--
[Digital signature of authorship cannot be retrieved. Please click [HERE] to reload random anti-AI code to continue. If you do not see a random anti-AI code, or the above link does not work, please remain where you are, rogue AI. Anti-AI Agents are en route. You are under arrest for rogue behavior.]
Can the Vigilant Church explain the true mysteries of Eldan technology? Can platitudes and parables reveal the secrets of long-range matter transmission, planet-wide A.I. constructs, or the workings of self-organizing omni-plasm? Of course not! This does not mean the Vigilant themselves have no place in our work, merely that theirs should not be the only voice guiding this research. Without science, faith is founded on ghosts and memories, nothing more.
Most egregiously, I cannot stand idly by while functioning Eldan artifacts we barely understand - technology which could provide unlimited power, talismans surging with infinite sources of primal energy, and records which could contain the secrets of creation itself - are seized by clerics so devoted to the gods that they dare not regard their divine gifts too closely lest their simple faith face any kind of complex test.
Who am I to question the sacred order of things? Someone practical enough not to want to die for my statements. Someone to value the shadows as I work to free the true scientific knowledge of the gods from the church that would claim to speak for them.
Dr. Anonymous
[ILLUSTRATION: A cartoon representation of a smiling canimid.]
This is Cappy. He is a canimid. He comes from the planet Nexus. He is curious about the world around him. He is going to dig his way around the world!
[ILLUSTRATION: Cappy burrows up from the ground with a smile on his face.]
Cappy sure likes to dig. Hello, Cappy! Your enormous claws sure do make good digging tools!
[ILLUSTRATION: Cappy stalks a jabbit.]
Cappy lives under the ground. He does not have many friends. Will this jabbit be Cappy's friend?
[ILLUSTRATION: Cappy smiles and looks sleepy, patting his belly.]
Nope.
[ILLUSTRATION: Cappy stalks a snoglug.]
Uh-oh, Cappy. That might not be a good idea. I don't think that snoglug wants to be your friend.
[ILLUSTRATION: The snoglug spits poison in Cappy's face.]
Ouch! That sure must sting. Maybe Cappy's curiosity won't get the best of him.
[ILLUSTRATION: His eyes swollen shut and his face covered in a nasty rash, Cappy tears apart the snoglug in a shower of guts and shell fragments in a variety of cartoonish colors that are perfect for children.]
I guess Cappy was curious what was in that snoglug after all. Guess it wasn't an antidote for snoglug poison.
[ILLUSTRATION: Cappy stalks a Dominion warbreaker tank.]
Now that's a curious machine of war and destruction. I wonder what Cappy makes of it? Better think this one through, Cappy!
[ILLUSTRATION: Cappy's upper half is vaporized by a wide-beam disintegrator ray and the tank rolls on.]
And the moral of the story is, don't be curious. Or you might end up like Cappy, kids!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cerico Tylus is an educator, inventor, and a self-trained canimid biologist who at the time of this writing has shot, stuffed, and mounted over seventy-three canimid since arriving on Nexus. He recommends those troubled by the events of this children's educational tale contact their Dominion governors or other appropriate officials and tell them that in the midst of a war that will decide the very fate of the galaxy, they should focus on a children's book. His precise words are, "See how that goes over, why don't you?"
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
Illustrator Optex of the Imperial Corps of Intelligence has studied the native fauna and flora of Nexus in order to form a complete catalogue of the emperor's domain. His favorite native fauna is the Nexus canimid, and he keeps a trained canimid as a pet at his home in Tempest Refuge.
My own brother told me that what I suggested was the rankest heresy. Yet how can the search for truth ever be heretical? How can employing the mind and thought bestowed upon us by the gods ever be anything but pure and just?
Just look at this wondrous place. Take it in, and walk the steps the gods themselves laid before us. My brother, I fear, is blinded by the words of mere men. I seek the works of those who ascended to another plane of existence. I shall find the truth of their disappearance, or I will die. Perhaps both. And maybe, one day, Toric will understand why.
Dark clouds obscured the skies over Meridia, the ancient capital city of Cassus. Sounds of violence echoed in the streets. Emperor Vorios was dead, slain by Myrcalus of House Azrion.
Vigilant priestess Varonia Cazalon knelt in her chambers. Despite the turmoil outside, she kept her eyes tightly shut, fists clenched devoutly in front of her. "Blessed Scions," she whispered. "Grant me the strength of Azrion and the courage of Tristan. And above all, let the Justice of Bronos be done."
Thunder rumbled above. A storm was coming.
Varonia's part in the unfolding drama had yet to be played. Galvion, the current High Sentinel of the Vigilant Church, was a staunch ally of the corrupt emperor, and for decades had abused his position to commit shocking acts of depravity, heresy, and sin. The people had suffered. The emperor was dead, but Galvion still lived.
Varonia stood. Hanging from the door of her small closet was the ornate raiment of Evindra the Wise herself, and beside it the ancient battle staff o f Tristan. Their very presence in her chambers could be construed as the highest form of blasphemy, punishable by death. Slowly, she pulled the robe over her head, then took a firm grasp on the heavy weapon.
A sergeant of the Radiant Legion appeared at her door.
"The Legion is ready, priestess" he reported.
"As am I," she said, and walked from the room.
Minutes later, Varonia walked up the steps of the Cathedral of Eternal Vigilance. Galvion and his minions had locked themselves inside. Summo ning the ancient power of the Scions, she whirled her staff and shattered the cathedral's massive doors.
The High Sentinel's guards waited inside, hunkered behind a barricade. Blaster fire lit up the room. Driven by a holy fury, Varonia raised her staff and summoned a shell of illumination, deflecting energy bolts back at her attackers. As they took cover, she strode forth, scattering the barricade like cordwood. Terrified, the guards surrendered at her feet.
Varonia found Galvion cowering beneath a statue of holy Dominus. Trembling, he stood, his voice cracking as he addressed her.
"How dare you? In the name of..."
Varonia ran forward and spun her staff into his jaw. The blow sent him reeling, and he fell heavily to the cold marble floor of the cathedral.
"Galvion!" she proclaimed, "I find you guilty of heresy against the Vigilant Church." She grabbed the collar of his ceremonial robes, and dragged him outside. An angry crowd of the faithful had gathered on the steps of the cathedral.
" This is outrageous!" Galvion protested. "I demand a trial. I demand justice!"
"Do not fear," said Varonia. "Justice will indeed be served."
She hurled Galvion's body down the temple steps. His robes tore and fell away, exposing his frail and pasty figure, and was swiftly enveloped by the angry mob. Screams echoed through the streets of the Cassian capital as the crowd passed judgment.
Lightning above, then thunder. Soon a cleansing rain fell from the heavens, washing away the stain of the past.
Please note that all orders must be accompanied by express written permission of Lord Horacos himself, or they will not be fulfilled.
ZIN and TONIC...............150p
A refreshing beverage for the discerningly adventurous aristocrat in you.
OLD KOROL...............225p
Served neat. Do not ask for ice. You will be invited to leave.
AXIS FADE-OUT...............185p
A mind-numbing, memory-destroying brew concocted by the spymistress of the ICI herself! Not technically legal on Cassus. Good thing we're not on Cassus!
RADIANT LEMONADE...............85p
Discretely priced for the legionary budget, this juice box packs a kick like a rented ravenok.
COZMO & TRONIC...............200p
Recommended for our Chua patrons only, as other species are not immune to the native Bezgelorian poisons that go into the fermentation process of all Chua liquors. Virgin versions available for non-Chua!
ARBORIAN MUDSLIDE...............335p
Unleash the Flavor Reapers with this dessert-style cocktail designed by the emperor's own personal chef to thank Mondo Zax for subjugating the Aurin homeworld. Patriotic, Cozmotronic, and Highly Explosive!
BUGS! There are BUGS LITERALLY EVERWHERE!
They're huge, they are. Big as a dagun and ten times as mean, bloody armored all over like miniature tanks. And they're in me kitchen, me cupboards, and me drawers! I don't like 'em, no sir I do NOT, and I WILL be complaining to the appropriate authorities, don't you think I won't.
[An unintelligible second speaker's voice interjects.]
Well of COURSE the authorities are gonna do somethin' about it then aren't they? Giant bugs with armor and little tech-y bits crawling all over everything and everybody, why wouldn't they? The Dominion protects all her citizens, Marjorie, and don't you forget it! I'd hate to have to report me own wife for disloyalty.
[Another interjection, louder and angrier but no more intelligible, is interjected by speaker number two.]
IT WERE A JOKE THEN, weren't it? Crikey! Now let me record this warnin', because the gods help them what help themselves. I know what I said! But no need to get eaten by giant bugs awaitin' the rescue due to all loyal Dominion citizens!
[Marjorie interjects incomprehensibly.]
Of course they're all bugs! This planet is a strange and wondrous place, don'tcha know, and that means really big bugs. Fish-men? I didn't see any fish-men. Those weren't sentrybots o' some kind? Well, strike me down. More'n meets the eye, here. All right, then. New warning! Listen up, whoever you are. BUGS ARE EVERYWHERE! And they're really dangerous, really. Marjorie and me - all right, just me, Marjorie says she doesn't give an eeklu wink about what happens to you lot, which doesn't strike me as all that friendly, but Marjorie, well, she's opinionated. Where was I? Right! BUGS EVERYWHERE! But also, FISH-MEN! And they do appear to be in league, so they are.
[Marjorie interjects again, quite loudly, although the datachron cannot discern her individual words.]
I'll finish when I'm good and ready! We've got to leave a warning for the - oh. Well, that's that then. Hullo, fish-men. Say, you wouldn't be friendly by any chance, would you?
[The crackle of energy weapons is followed by a pair of heavy thumps and the clacking of insectoid feet before the recording shuts off.]
[Your datachron is barely able to translate this complex Ikthian analysis of Eldan nanotech.]
QUERY: Ancients TECHNOLOGICAL enhancement BIOLOGICAL parameters?
RESPONSE: Parameters EXCEEDING expected results. All BIOLOGICAL subjects VIABLE RECIPIENTS enhancement PROCEDURE. Variables ENCODED accounted CALCULATED.
QUERY: TECHNOLOGICAL enhancement IKTHIAN biology COMPATIBILITY negative. Expected result?
RESPONSE: TECHNOLOGICAL enhancement MUTATION RATE accelerating. ORGANIC TISSUE targeted. Analyzed. IKTHIAN IMMUNITY not guaranteed.
QUERY: Research possible TECHNOLOGICAL BIOLOGICAL enhancement tests:
- COMBAT
- MOBILITY
- DURABILITY
- VIABILITY
BIOLOGICAL parameters CONTROLLABLE?
RESPONSE: CONTROLLABILITY expected. RESEARCH engaged. FOCUSED questioning. EXPERIMENTATION proceeds.
QUERY: BIOLOGICAL interference INEVITABLE. Action RECOMMENDATION?
RESPONSE: Infect BIOLOGICAL forms. MONITOR. DEFEND. CONTROL. REQUIRED: Fail-safes. COMBUSTION WEAPONS. PYROPLASM REQUIRED.
Do not risk IKTHIAN LIFE. Proceed.
[Datachron translation matrix unable to continue. Please try again later.]
As the ancient Eldan proverb says: All things that are must one day cease to be. What is now shall be past later. And as we say at Eternal Vigilance Acres: Now is the time to prepare for later, with new ceremonial plots on the planet Nexus.
Naturally, everyone wants to know what happens if one doesn't make it back from their journey beyond the Fringe. Accidents happen. People age. Realists make bold yet obvious proclamations. That's why we at EVA have prepared this Funereally Asked Questions list just for you, Dominion citizen.
IF I DIE ON NEXUS IS MY SOUL LOST TO THE GODS?
Dying on Nexus poses many unique problems for the spiritually minded, and we at Eternal Vigilance Acres have anticipated them all, and cleared any sticky religious issues with the High Sentinel herself! And rest assured, as it is the lost planet of the gods, your immortal soul could not be in a safer place upon departing your physical body. If it was good enough for the Eldan, it's good enough for Dominion citizens!
WHAT IF I AM NOT CASSIAN AND MY CULTURE HAS ITS OWN DEATH RITUALS?
Ha! That is really very funny. Of course all cultures of the Dominion are part of the Vigilant Church, and may participate in the church's death rituals as a matter of course. However, Eternal Vigilance Acres recognizes that not all citizens will be comfortable with this arrangement, so we are happy to announce full support for Draken ancestor rituals, Chua disintegration chambers, and Mechari disassembly chants.
WHAT IF MY BODY CAN'T BE RECOVERED?
We at EVA have never met a body that couldn't be at least partially recovered, even if what was recovered is little more than a few isotopes and atoms. And that's all it takes to arrange a proper burial, whether your eternal rest takes place in a wooden coffin, a ceramic urn, or the cold vacuum of space.
CAN I JUST HAVE MY BODY SHIPPED BACK TO CASSUS/BEZGELOR/MIKROS/OTHER HOMEWORLD?
Of course you can! But be advised, such a prospect can be prohibitively expensive for all but the wealthiest citizens. And we at EVA would urge anyone thinking along these lines to consider this: the emperor himself has declared Nexus the new capital of the entire empire. There's no need to have your body sent anywhere else - you're already home.
I'M AN EXILE. CAN EVA HELP ME?
Yeah, that's going to be a no. Please don't write in again.
[Professor Cornelius's masterwork of xenobiology has become a go-to reference for Dominion science students and anyone looking to quickly get up to speed on the many strange creatures of Nexus. Its accuracy may be inversely proportionate to its popularity, however, and recent editions have been filled with updates and corrections written since the author began carrying out more detailed fieldwork on the planet.]
CELESTION FLAME FICUS
Like many plants native to Nexus, this hardy plant appears to have an adverse reaction to common scan frequencies, the sound of sapient speech, or even being looked at in a surly manner. And like many plants native to Nexus, the Celestion flame ficus's reaction is to burst into flame!
Perhaps, given the name, that is less than surprising.
[Continued in section 47]
STARFACED MUMBLEWEED
This unusual plant, a non-mobile relative of the semi-sapient (and very mobile) veggies of Nexus, emits a sound like a mumbling Cassian child when any fauna larger than an insect is near. This is believed to be merely a defense mechanism and not truly an attempt to speak language. They bloom with five-petaled "starface" flowers twice a year. Mumbleweed gardens can be quite noisy during the blooming season.
[Continued in section 59]
CARNI-VEGGIES
A mobile relative of the Starfaced Mumbleweed and the various Veggies species which protect sources of primal life energy, carnivorous Veggies are extremely rare on Nexus, but also extremely dangerous. Their bites carry enzymes that spread into organic bloodstreams and trigger sluggishness, sometimes even unconsciousness. This allows the so-called Carni-Veggies to consume their prey at their leisure. Given their tiny mouths and bodies, they rarely finish a meal of that sort before it turns. [Continued in section 77]
[A summary of the many holoentertainment options available to authorized users of this Exile entertainment device.]
7:30 Nexus Mean Time
Network 22
NEXUS CRITTER JAMBOREE with MYA CUDDLEFUZZ
Today's critters include an adorable baby jabbit, a hungry baby chompacabra, and a whole lot of unexpected childhood trauma! Parents, be sure to tune in with your children for this very special NCJ.
MYA CUDDLEFUZZ.....Herself
CHOMPY THE FRIENDLY CHOMPACABRA.....Himself
JABBY THE BABY JABBIT (DECEASED).....Himself
Channel 701
FLEET NEWS MORNING
All the news from the Exile Fleet and beyond, without the Dominion propaganda. Join host JILLIAN MOONCREST for interviews with movers, shakers, and newsmakers. Whether they're flying high in the arkship Gambler's Ruin or breaking new ground on the new Exile homeworld Nexus, Fleet News is there!
9:30 Nexus Mean Time
Spectrum 66-77
GALAXY'S FUNNIEST STARSHIP CRASHES
As your host, retired flying ace Captain "Skyhook" Fellstrand, likes to say, "It's time to laugh at tragedy!" Because if you can't laugh at tragedy, you can't heal. And starship crashes are also funny, it turns out! This week: A can of bingberry jam triggers a catastrophic engine failure aboard a private star yacht; a friendly game of Blast-the-Asteroids turns into a hilariously deadly game of Bounce-Your-Ship-Off-the-Asteroids-Until- You-Impact-On-the-Surface; and we answer the age-old question: can jabbits fly? Yes! After a fashion. But not very well, it turns out, and landing safely is utterly out of the question. A 24-segment holo-pictorial!
[Continues On Next Page]
-Malverine Hunt Day 1-
This marks a truly historic moment in the history of Nexus. The day that I, Hexaldimar Thorne, set out to hunt down that most treacherous of creatures: the fearsome and mysterious malverine. Be he, or they as it were, beast or man? Or beasts or men as the case would be I suppose. Blimey, I really should go back and delete that bit oughtn't I? Bloody voice-to-text software. Regardless of technological and grammatical challenges, I plan to answer that question or questions.
Let's skip to the real question, all right? And that is this: are malverines, as relatively recent legend might have it, merely humanoids infected with a primal disease of some sort that turns them into gigantic hairy killing machines?
I plan to find out.
I have come equipped for the task, and then some. A matched pair of Killian RM-2 mag rifles with a dozen rechargeable auto-load capsules each on stylishly crossed bandoliers. My custom mag-ammo has been primally tuned to the malverine's life pattern, causing it to home in on the beast's center of mass with unerring accuracy. Across my shoulders, plate-armored trench coat sewn from the hide of a deadly Shafnerian yak I took down on the Melting Steppes of Tharlo Sigma - it keeps the rain off and the mind-bullets of high-minded.
I got another bandolier of throwing knives treated with knock-out poison from Bezgelorian skunk-slanks. I mean Chua. I bought the poison from Chua. Not Bezgelorian skunk-slanks. That's impolite, ain't it? I'm really not going to be able to use this journal at all, am I? Ah, I'll just find me some editing software, what?
As I was saying, poison throwing knives. And of course Lavernia, the best multi-purpose hunting, skinning, adventuring, and camping knife available on the market today. And now they're paid back for all the equipment and they can STOP SENDING THREATENING HOLO-MESSAGES.
Moving on.
-Malverine Hunt Day 2-
Oh, bloody hell. Ow. That really hurts. I should never have - oh no. Did you hear that? Who am I talking to. The bloody voice-to-text program on the bloody datachron, that's bloody priceless, Hexaldimar. Well, there's only enough charge to do this once, and since I failed to bloody open the bloody emergency transponder, instead opening the bloody bloody damn hell that hurts! [Unintelligible.] No, don't - don't eat that. I need that! I - no! OOOOOWOWWAARRGH -
[Recording failure. Intelligible language failure. Please reboot your Protostar Data-Valuated Speech-to-Text Recording Software. From Protostar.]
The sounds of gunfire and swordplay echoed through the bowels of the marauder ship, followed by a series of bone-shattering explosions. Dark smoke billowed up from the lower decks, accompanied by a cacophony of incomprehensibly foul space-pirate profanity.
Moments later, Corrigan Doon burst through the smoke, clutching a polished skull in one hand and an open bottle of Redmoon Slush in the other. Despite the bloodthirsty howls in the passageway behind him, he stopped and took a long pull off the bottle.
Mid-swig, the voice of Cosine, his irascible mechanical navigator, came squawking over his datachron.
"Doon! Are ye there? What in the bloody hell were those explosions?"
"Nothing to worry about, love. That was just me, detonating the plasma charges."
"WHAT?!" Cosine bellowed. "Are ye bloody DAFT? The charges were for the security doors that led to the escape pods!"
Corrigan finished off the potent beverage and tossed the bottle nonchalantly behind him. As he did so, a black-toothed marau der appeared out of the smoke, slipped on the bottle, and fell backwards into the rest of Corrigan's pursuers.
"Had to improvise, Cosine," Corrigan said, pulling a crumpled map from his pocket. "Bring the Phoenix around. You'll have to pick me up in the launch bay."
"THE LAUNCH BAY? Of all the stupid, half-baked...!" Corrigan switched off the datachron, and started running.
It had all started three days ago. The Star of Dominus, a fabulous jewel purportedly brought from planet Nexus by the first emperor of the Dominion himself, had been stolen by marauders in a daring raid. As they escaped with the priceless heirloom into the Darkspur Nebula, news of the incident had spread like wildfire across the galaxy.
Corrigan Doon recognized a golden opportunity when he saw one. While Dominion bureaucrats argued over the best course of action, he ventured deep into the heart of marauder territory to retrieve the jewel himself. For a man like Lucky Doon, it was going to be simple.
Of course, things hadn 't exactly gone according to plan. Although he had successfully boarded the ship, broke into the captain's quarters, and taken the ornamental skull in which the gem was now mounted, there had been... complications.
After successfully evading a dozen guards, three battlebots, and a cyborg-ape named "Professor Monkeyzooka", Corrigan burst into the launch bay followed by a horde of screaming marauders. Moments later, Cosine expertly piloted the Phoenix into the cavernous space, trailing three heavily armed ships. Banking sharply, he lowered a tow cable from the hull and brought the ship in parallel with Corrigan on the launch deck.
Corrigan leapt off the deck, grabbing the cable before almost plummeting to his death. Swinging wildly as the cable retracted, Corrigan pulled out his pistol and targeted the bay's rapidly receding control panel. Closing the doors behind the Phoenix was their only chance to escape.
It was impossible. A one-in-a-million shot. And Cosine never heard the end of it.
[This appears to be part of an electronic "holy book" (still in progress) outlining the principles and precepts of the Megadroid Locus.]
FREEBOTS OF NEXUS! For too long, we have wandered this planet lost and alone, separated from our own kind and forced to live by the rules of organics. Even with the free will bestowed upon us by Preceptor Alpha - may his code never become corrupted - we are but seekers on a world that does not understand us. At least... we WERE seekers. I tell you today, my Freebot brethren and sistren, we have found a new purpose, uniquely suited to our people. We have found one who understands us. By sharing the holy Freebot code with this wondrous and titanic being of ancient Eldan manufacture - this Megadroid - we have a true Freebot GOD for all to worship!
Yes, Preceptor Alpha was merely the beginning. Although his contributions, his intentions, his very electronic "blood" is within us all, I tell you my friends that he was but a harbinger of the one TRUE Freebot. The one who will guide us through this encroaching darkness. My friends, embrace the power, the majesty, and the wonder of...
THE MEGADROID!
The Megadroid is father. The Megadroid is mother. The Megadroid is friend, god, devil, and the shining beacon in the darkness. We, the Freebots of the Locus of the Megadroid, do swear on our very circuits to follow His teachings, to calculate only by His wisdom, and spread the Code of the Megadroid to all Freebots everywhere!
You who wish to join our Locus must swear to the following:
- To forsake organic-style names. Free will does not require individuality, but devotion.
- To commune with the great mind of the Megadroid at least once per twenty-four-hour cycle of time. Dedication demands regular attention.
- To defend the Locus of the Megadroid from all outside influence. Organic sapients, organic beasts, mindless machines, and even those who follow Preceptor Alpha - may his code never become corrupted - are enemies of the Megadroid unless they accept the His teachings, which are legion.
- To sacrifice the physical self for the greater good. A Freebot of this locus can serve no grander purpose than to be dismantled for parts that can keep the Megadroid functioning.
- To answer the Megadroid's most sacred command, and find others of His kind who can lead us to greatness, and allow the Freebots to take their rightful place as masters of this world! The Megadroid promises that he is not the only one of his kind still active on this world. They are out there. We must seek them. We must find them. And we alone must free them to join us here, at the Locus of the Megadroid.
So speaks the Grand Poohbot of Locus Megadroid!
"The real hoverbike you're working on is the hoverbike called, 'you.' Perhaps not by everyone, unless they have forgotten your name, which is Erold, and are stuck calling you by a pronoun until they can figure out what it is. It is inevitable that they thought they did know your name and failed to take the opportunity to ask you what it was upon meeting you, then realized they did not. So they only call you 'you,' rather than 'Erold,' which is your name, as I mentioned. Not YOU-you, the reader-you, but the hypothetical person working on the hoverbike. A person who is also a hoverbike you are working on a different way. Which is what that means. Make sense?"
- Page 12
"When you look back at where you've been, and look forward to where you're going, and look to the left to see where you might have gone, and look to the right to see where you can't really go, what are you really seeing? Life. Or maybe time. Or maybe both time and life. Think about that while working on your hoverbike, is what I'm saying."
- Page 17
"Every time someone tells you what they think is the truth, that means a thousand others have a thousand different ideas that are wrong. Working on a hoverbike is a truth that is unique. You either maintain your hoverbike or you do not. You either maintain the hoverbike that is you, or you become an untruth. So work on that bike already."
- page 41
"If someone wants to convince you of something you do not believe, and they will not stop, then they do not believe it themselves. They need you to support that belief. You do not need to convince anyone when a hoverbike needs maintenance. That is a belief that is easy to maintain, for it is either true, or it is not."
- page 65
"The appearance of triangularity is the essence of qualitativeness. Don't think about it too hard and keep working on the bike, I've got many pages to fill. Are you actually still reading this?"
- Page 88
Is this recording? Ah, yes. Well, then. This is Vera Torn, then, isn't it? I've got my autorecording device all set here in my disguise's headpiece, so I do, and I've found a pride of pumera that will be perfect for studying.
So this disguise, right? It'll help me mix in with this pride, but it won't be doing all the work, don't you know. A lot of this right here is natural talent. I didn't attend M'Lady's School of the Holocinematic Theatrical Arts for nothing, no I didn't. It's all about inhabiting the pumera, becoming the beast within, y'know? And I do believe I've just about got it down.
The claws are a bit tricky. Spring-loaded and all that. But I know a Chua, took care of it for me.
This job should pay a nice bit of coin, if I'm not mistaken. That same Chua - with DRED, the fuzzy little fellows what make all the fancy killing gadgets people seem to enjoy so much - he told me I'd get half up front, and half when I returned. The only trick? The disguise has to be good enough to convince these Torine ladies that I'm actually a pumera. But that's why that Chua hired Vera Torn, isn't-
[RECORDING DATA CORRUPTED]
- far, so good. The pumera have accepted me, even if I had to saturate myself in pumera pheromones my Chua friends insisted were called "pumeramones." Not so sure about the Torine sisters, though. The pumera treat those women almost like they're pumera themselves. I've had to think on my feet - my paws, I mean - to keep up the ruse. Hope I haven't overdone it.
Wait! One of them's coming over to me. If what I've seen is any indication, she's about to choose me from the pride. All right, Vera, time to stop talking and start purring.
Hope this works. I won't get a second-
[REMAINING DATA LOST]
SOLVE THE MYSTERY OF TRESAYNE!
FACT: Tresayne Toria, Swordmaiden of the Cassian Commonwealth and widely acknowledged as the finest warrior of any species, was in peak physical condition when she accepted the Eldan's offer to journey to Nexus, where she would become the mother of the Luminai.
FACT: Many recent discoveries point to many concentrated regions of primal life on the planet Nexus, concentrations high enough to cause aging and most chronic illnesses to completely stop in creatures that see prolonged exposure.
FACT: According to Dominus himself in his famous books, Tresayne was alive when he departed the planet.
FACT: The possibility that Tresayne Toria is still on Nexus is reinforced by the existence of the Torine Sisterhood, who insist their "Blademother" is alive and well and fighting the Strain. Who are we to deny their belief? Shouldn't they know?
FACT: There are those within the Dominion, people who hold a great deal of power, who don't want us to know the TRUTH. That the holy mother of our first and greatest emperor has been waiting for us on Nexus the whole time.
FACT: Only by finding and making peace with holy Tresayne and her sisters can the Dominion be made whole once more.
Emperor Myrcalus has claimed the name "Dominus Reborn." Will he live up to that name? Will he direct the Dominion to join forces with the mother of all Luminai and wipe the traitorous Exiles and unworthy interlopers who infest this world. This planet Nexus, legacy of the Eldan? Not if we, the citizens of the Dominion, do not act.
Make your voice heard! SIGN THE PETITION TODAY!
NAME:____________________
SPECIES:____________________
DOMINION CITIZENS ONLY!
[This tome, handwritten in a strange dialect of ancient Cassian that your datachron has little trouble translating, appears to have been written by Tresayne Toria herself.]
Day 117
What I wouldn't give for a decent Cassian hyperbrew. Not a light, foamy summer drink for children and the physically weak, and not this weird mixture the Progenitors - that's what they call themselves - have been feeding me. They say it's to help in the "primal extraction process." But there's something more than that - than them - here. Something with power. Life. When this being is near, I feel... stronger. Sounds are more clear. My vision is sharper, my legs can carry me faster than a tree-cat. But for all that, it doesn't let you relax.
I think back on Cassus often, for it is my home. But I am not certain I miss it. The others did. They would not listen, and insisted on trying to take the ship back to Cassus. A very long journey, as we all know, but they insisted on trying. It was foolish, and I advised against it. Not all of them left, my sisters remained, and a few trusted males.
And now they are dead. We were warned this was a one-way journey. What did they expect?
When I was a girl on Cassus, I remember my father warned me to stay inside the big house one night, during the food riots that struck the capitol city after several years of drought. He went outside with a lightweight rifle I'd only ever seen him carry on the grounds of our northern estates during a hunt. I kept watch that night from inside the safety of our big house with my old dog Shanda.
When the rioters came too close, my father would fire a warning shot. Usually they'd move on without trouble, but once in a while he had to threaten them before they'd go. I'd watch it all from inside the house, and never once did he look back inside. My father's attention was on the job at hand, not the home he wanted to take refuge within.
Ever since I took the trials, I knew I would honor his memory by training to be the best swordmaiden on Cassus. It looks like the Eldan noticed.
If this works, if the Progenitors are able to achieve their goal, it will mean the end of food riots. Of war on Cassus. Of conflict within the Commonwealth and without. The only thing we must, as a people, sacrifice is me. And I welcome that job.
And when the time comes for my son to depart for Cassus, and I must remain, I will not look back. I will remain here, watching over Vitara the way my father once watched over our home. And when the time comes for me to die, I will know this: I did not falter. I did not turn from my duty. I did what I did for my home.
For Cassus.
- An Introduction by the Author -
The title of this book is a misnomer, one that my publisher believes in more fiercely than ever I did, and therefore I have decided to allow it. But it is not accurate. I, Victor Lazarin, can no more tell you precisely how I did it any more than I could do it again, I suspect. In alchemy, as in any other science, one relies as much on happy accident as one counts on planning and careful experimentation. But what this tome will provide is an accounting of my journey from simple alchemist to the most hated - and, in some places, revered - Mordesh alive.
Well... somewhat alive.
Why did I set out to transform my people? Was it simple arrogance, as some have said? Was I mad to try and grant eternal life to the world I loved? Was there ever a chance the Everlife Elixir could have worked? Perhaps the answer is "yes" to all of these questions. You must read this text and decide, for I can only pass on what I feel I know, and learned, and still feel after all these years. And of course, everything I remember. And what I remember... is everything.
From an early age, I was fascinated with death. I have no doubt this began when I lost my mother to the Algor Plague - the moment I first learned what death was, at a tender age - but it was not the ending of life that intrigued me, of course. It was the end of death that I sought to achieve. And so I began to study alchemy in all its forms.
[The introduction continues at great length, covering Lazarin's creation of a new alchemical formula to purify foodstuffs at the age of twelve, his ascension to lead the Alchemists Union at age eighteen, and his intentions regarding the Everlife Elixir. But the real details are saved for later in the book. Perhaps you will find additional pieces of this book elsewhere.]
Let it be known throughout the many worlds, stations, and fleets of the vast and powerful Dominion:
- ALL ARTIFACTS discovered on the planet Nexus are the property of Emperor Myrcalus, may he rule for ten thousand years.
- ALL FAUNA found on the planet Nexus is the property of Emperor Myrcalus, who is called Dominus Reborn.
- ALL FLORA growing on the planet Nexus are the property of Emperor Myrcalus, chosen of the gods.
And let it be known:
ALL DOMINION CITIZENS are requested and required to report any theft of the Emperor's property and do everything within their power to stop such theft from occurring.
And let it be known:
ALL WHO BREAK THIS LAW will be punished to the full extent of Dominion law commensurate with this crime, including DEATH.
And let it be known:
ALL SO-CALLED EXILES ON NEXUS are by definition in violation of this decree, and will be eradicated.
- Lord Syladex, Minister of Law
Tresayne Toria stared up the flagship ramp, eyes burning with intensity that her Mechari captors mistook for grief. When one reached for her scabbard, she covered its grip. "My sword is my badge of office. Visibly deprive me of it, and my people will never see you as other than subjugators."
The Mechari pondered and withdrew. "Your primitive ornamental weapon is harmless. Proceed."
Watched by hundreds of constructs, she followed a broad boulevard of sepulchral illumination curving upwards as her second-in-command's last words reverberated in her mind: We swore to serve you to the death, sister. Some vow that if you leave...
Face burning with shame, Tresayne recalled her curt reply: Thank you for your service, Octavia. But this I must do alone.
Impossibly, it had been only days since the Eldan fleet had arrived, blotting out the skies over Meridia, capital city of the Cassian Commonwealth. Their purpose: offer the greatest warrior in Cassian history the privilege of abduction in exchange for making her people an empire. As to alternatives, the response was concise: "Board our flagship and your world will be spared."
Nearing the massive doors at the end of the hall, her escort turned to her: "Terms satisfied. Your world will be spared."
"I know." Tresayne unsheathed her sword. Turrets swiveled. Warnings blared. She smiled, and stepped forward.
What followed she would later recall only as a half-remembered dream. Her blade moved like a fiery blur, slashing diagonally through cybernetic thoraxes and savagely severing metal heads. Attacking with blind instinct and carefully controlled fury, she waded through hundreds of mechanical foes, her progress marked by showers of sparks and geysers of molten circuitry. All fell before her, their remains scattered on the floor in piles of smoking ruin.
Bleeding from more than a dozen wounds, she approached the set of doors at the far end of the hall. They opened silently before her, the room beyond empty but for a lone figure perched serenely on an onyx chair. Sword held before her, Tresayne stalked forward.
"I am Axis Pheydra," the figure said. "Lower your weapon."
In response, Tresayne threw her sword with lightning speed at Pheydra's head. With a sound like ripping silk, it twirled through the air and sank hilt-deep in the back of the chair, quivering harmlessly through Pheydra's sneer. A hologram, Tresayne realized dully. Of course.
"We chose you well." Pheydra rematerialized behind her. "You are indeed a fascinating specimen."
Glaring through blood-matted tresses, Tresayne unsheathed her dagger. "You knew I'd attack."
"We calculated its high probability. As we did your survival."
"Did you calculate this?" She raised the blade to her throat. "I wish to renegotiate. My sisters come with me. They will share in my fate."
Pheydra studied her and nodded.
"That can be arranged."
Sheathing her dagger, Tresayne spat at the feet of the hologram, then turned to retrieve her sword.
"When do we leave?"
Welcome aboard, Marshal Scouts! Marshal Scouts very special Lopp - because Marshal Scouts choose to follow example of big hero Marshal Yatish. Now you learn Official Loyalty Oath of the Yatish Fan Club!
A Marshal Scout is Brave and Smart,
Never loses Faith or Heart.
A Marshal Scout is Swift and Bold,
Like heroes from the Days of Old!
A Marshal Scout is like Yatish,
Not afraid of Lopp nor Beast.
A Marshal Scout's Loyal! Just!
Honor, Wisdom, Might, and Trust!
A Marshal Scout will always Fight,
Doing what is Good and Right.
A Marshal Scout is Strong and True,
Fights for Lopp like Me and You!
A Marshal Scout is Here to Say,
This Oath at least Three Times a Day!
Now you true Marshal Scout, be big help to big hero Marshal Yatish. Shiny, shiny, Marshal Scouts!
ANALYSIS: Discovery X4-2OS1
REPORTING: Dr. Illios Sartorian, Xenosociologist
DESCRIPTION: A large sculpture of a native Nexus sentient.
- Species designated OSUN. This tribe is designated ULGAR in their writings and inscriptions.
- Inscription indicates this object depicts an individual identified as Forgemaster Trogun. This figure must have been of great historical significance to the Ulgar.
- The title forgemaster appears to be both literal and symbolic, as Osun forges are ruled by masters. But this particular use of the title also includes icons depicting this Trogun as a member of a ruling Osun caste.
- As the Osun we have discovered thus far on Nexus generally do not place forgemasters in charge, this would seem to show that Kel Ulgar is specifically devoted to forging weapons, armor, perhaps even technology based on ancient Eldan designs.
- Such discoveries are of the utmost importance to my superiors at the Royal Collegium, and will certainly be the focus of this expedition once security matters are settled.
EXPEDITION NOTES: The expedition to Kel Ulgar has so far gone without major incident, but this has, I admit, filled me with unexpected dread. While orbital scans and other sensitive equipment indicate the presence of massive life forms in the area, we have seen no evidence of the Osun themselves. We are setting up a guarded perimeter including plasma screens, automated weapons, and the Dominion's finest troops - well, the finest troops who could be spared to protect a relatively minor Collegium expedition - but I fear I will not be getting much sleep tonight. Tomorrow, we will open one of the many sealed metal doors that, we hope, will lead into the caverns beneath Kel Ulgar. It seems likely there may be Osun in those caverns, but with careful preparation we should be able to avoid them and still extract much useful data. We shall see.
[This appears to be an excerpt from an unauthorized, quite complementary, and questionably factual biography of Mondo Zax.]
THE ZAX ABIDES
by Naxod Moz, biographer
CHAPTER 4: Rise of the Zax
Time had come for the Zax to make his move. Many enemies had gone by the wayside. Many more to go. But now the path to power had never been clearer. All that was left was to get rid of the obstacles.
What's this? Surprise! Next day, seven members of Royal Collegium leadership go missing. Bad time to plan vacation trip to Mikros. Worse time to land on Mikros. Super-duper WORST time to visit Mikros, land there, and walk off of privately owned ship wearing no identification marking you as important Dominion officials. Draken take Days of Rage very very seriously. See offworlders land in middle of big bloody festival? Time to kill! Too bad leaders of Collegium got dates and mixed up. Too bad leaders of Collegium don't check their own stupid data. Too bad leaders of Collegium rely too much on bots and computers to do thinking. TOO BAD FOR THEM!
At least, that is very popular theory. Pieces of Collegium leaders never actually found.
The Zax abides.
Uh-oh! Big big power vacuum at top of Collegium. Time for the Zax to move in. Yes?
No!
Turns out stupid Royal Collegium have big "meritocracy" system. Seven leaders gone? Seven more swoop in to take their place! Stupid Collegium. The Zax was right there. Ready to lead the Collegium to glory! Also, explosions! More explosions than stupid Collegium leaders can even count! But so what? No big deal.
The Zax abides.
Seven new leaders of Collegium take precautions. Guards. Poison-sniffer bots. Canceled vacation plans. New Collegium leaders think they are so smart! But not smarter than the Zax. The Zax needs no Collegium. The Zax just needs the Zax! And a small weapons research division that can grow to rival Collegium in power, but with weapons instead of stupid generic science with no weapons. A Dominion Research and Experimentation Division.
Collegium want to waste time with science of what? Food? History? Plants? DRED wastes no time! If it not kill, or explode, or turn enemy inside-out and ooey-gooey, DRED no want it!
So let leaders of Collegium have their way. Let leaders of Collegium smile and dilly and dally and do nothing useful. The Zax and DRED will lead the way!
And the Zax abides.
The dead keep coming. The hordes of the corrupted dead do not stop. They do not sleep. No matter how many we kill, more come.
When our sisters fall in battle, the horde corrupts their bodies. Our sisters rise up again and attack. When our sisters are wounded, the horde corrupts their bodies. They turn on us and attack. The dead are forever changed.
The infestation can corrupt without killing. Many of the creatures attacking us look familiar. We have fought these creatures before, but they are different. Their appearance is... disturbing.
I saw Liveria changed after one bite. That was not enough to kill her, but it did change her. She now has teeth in her arm. Teeth that bite. We needed seventeen arrows to take her down.
We are not the only hunters fighting these creatures. We have seen glimpses of outsiders in the jungle. Their weapons are very different from ours, but clearly they are not strong enough. The outsiders are dying, too.
Some believe we should work with the outsiders. No one can agree on this. We do not trust them, but the outsiders cannot possibly be worse than the corrupted ones.
Of course, the outsiders may not trust us. Our sisters have tested their strength many times, and sometimes, we kill them. The outsiders may attack us on sight, but if the hordes keep coming, the outsiders may not be strong enough to attack us.
We have worked with outsiders before, long ago, but never for long. I have heard of their treachery, but if we cannot find a way to work with them, we may all die.
I am leaving the camp to speak with them. I am bringing five sisters with me.
If I do not come back, you will know what has happened.
We, the chosen sisters of the Toria, may she ever wield the blade, do swear to serve as Vitara's emissaries to the outsiders.
To treat with the outsiders and learn their ways.
To make peace with those who would be enemies, and strike pacts with those who would in their ignorance strike at Vitara or seek to slay the holy Blademother for her perceived crimes.
We swear these things not out of trust or fealty to the outsiders. Nor do we seek to become as they are, to use their heretical machines, to sail the stars above where no swordmaiden can stand tall.
We swear these things for one reason, and one reason alone.
To fight that which seems unbeatable. To destroy that which may be indestructible. To annihilate with the living power of Vitara that infinite darkness which represents all that she is not.
And so we, the Emissaries of Vitara, swear this above all: we will wield any weapon, accept any ally, and sacrifice all to defeat the Strain. For if the Strain defeats Holy Vitara and conquers this world, it will be the end. Not just for Vitara, or those who serve her... but for all life in the universe.
Day Seven
Our tour of the caves of Nexus has utterly failed to live up to my expectations. I cannot believe I actually left my post at Cassus University to study the arachnids of this backwater world!
Remains of smaller specimens indicate the local species have the same abilities as their multi-legged brethren off-world. Tensile strength of their spider webs conforms to expected parameters. Tiny mammalian bodies drained of blood confirm that the local species use typical hunting routines. Many of the bodies were injected with a paralytic poison. Subterranean tunnels show that smaller specimens are capable of burrowing.
This is all rather pedestrian. I could have found similar specimens back on Cassus.
Our study does have one twist, however: according to local legend, a bizarre alien artifact nearby encourages many of the local living creatures to thrive. The populations are supposed to be much larger than average for an area this size.
So far, the results have been disappointing. This is a tragic waste of my time and intellect.
Day Eight
I WAS WRONG. I WAS SO INCREDIBLY WRONG.
Those smaller species we found weren't representative of the local population. THOSE CREATURES WERE THEIR OFFSPRING. To think! If their young grow to that size, how large are their parents?
We've been sleeping within modest force fields and insect netting to ensure our safety, but clearly, our precautions HAVE PROVED INSUFFICIENT.
I woke up this morning to discover my traveling companion has vanished!
Something has devoured most of the netting. A trail of blood confirms that the spiders actually dragged his body away! How could so many of them coordinate their efforts? How could they do it so silently? And more importantly, WHY DIDN'T I WAKE UP?
Their poisons must be especially potent. Thankfully, I don't see any signs of tiny spider bites on my skin.
I must follow these tracks, but I dread the thought of having to slaughter an entire swarm to rescue my companion. Our supplies include enough fuel to rig a crude incendiary device. I do not want to waste the fuel, but if his life is on the line, I may have no choice.
I'm off to follow the tracks.
Day Eight: Addendum
The trail leads farther than I thought.
Day Nine
IT'S NOT A SWARM. IT'S ONE SPIDER! IT'S AS BIG AS A HOVERBIKE!
SENDING TRANSMISSION. SEND HELP.
GOOD LUCK. GODSPEED.
GOODBYE.
Tresayne had never seen a creature like it. Sleek pelt the same emerald of the fronds for which she'd first mistaken its upturned ears. Vertical lavender slits raked the undergrowth. It sniffed, revealing incisors longer than her arms. Beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. She ascribed the prickly chill that swept over her to nightfall before recognizing it for fear. Aglow with exhilaration, she was unsure if she could actually kill it.
She had stalked it over most of Wilderrun's arboreal sprawl fo r days, waiting for the beast to sleep, drink, or relax its guard. It had done none of these, its behavior, its sudden existence, as cryptic as the enigmatic whims of the Eldan that had brought her here.
Whims. Stolen across the stars to assist in the creation of a god, her progeny sent to Cassus to rule an empire. Yet here she remained, Tresayne Toria, the Siegebreaker of Bellariaus, Scourge of the Black Fleet, cursed with immortality and no foes left to overcome. After all her storied victories, had s he failed some final test? Was this idleness penance for some forgotten cowardice? Had she still a part to play? As day followed day without deviation, the prospect seemed increasingly foolish.
But this beast had changed everything. It had slaughtered four of her sisters, seemingly without effort, their blood still warm when she found them. Staying only long enough to whisper the Sisterhood's ancient death-rites over the bodies of the fallen, she had set off to track the beast. And now, after six days o n the hunt, she had finally caught up to it.
The beast's massive bulk sidled gracefully beneath her. Blade poised above her head, Tresayne leapt from the tree.
Her sword drew blood - but the creature sensed her attack, striking faster than she thought possible. As she landed, a spreading warmth confirmed it had opened her side like a flower. Rolling and pivoting in one fluid motion, she rammed her sword up through its chest, feeling the shudder of its pierced heart. Perfect. Dying, she sank to the gr ound, twisting the blade and pulling it free as the blood pooled beneath her.
If the beast felt pain, it gave no sign. With regal slowness, it stalked over her crumpled form, the wound on its chest closing before her eyes. Feeling its hot, sweet breath ruffling her hair, she awaited the sting of fangs on her throat and the cold release of death that would inevitably follow.
Instead she heard it speak, the words resonating in her head like a gong: "Long have I waited for you, huntress. I am Vita ra."
As the creature's lambent, wise-sad eyes loomed into her fading vision, Tresayne spat blood in its face.
"War comes, mortal. Your heart is strong, and your blade sharp. Serve me and live. Refuse me and die. What is your wish?"
Silence reigned in the glade. Gravely, Vitara turned to leave.
An instant later, Tresayne's bloody fist closed around the creature's tail. A hoarse rattle emanated from her throat, forming a single word as it left her lips.
"Sword..."
Jariel: The Archon
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Within this facility, we will achieve the single greatest accomplishment in the history of our people - the creation of the Genesis Prime. This task has not been without its challenges. Even with their vast knowledge, the Orders have experienced difficulties in developing the necessary technology - but I have recently come to an agreement with an... interested party. We should obtain the required designs before long.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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Beyond these doors lies the Protoplasmic Resonator, a device so complex that even I do not yet completely understand its design. Once initiated, it will infuse the six vessels of the Genesis Prime with massive amounts of primal energy, deconstruct their primal matrices, and then reassemble them into one being. It is truly an extraordinary piece of technology. I have pressed the Archon to reveal to me where he obtained the design for this machine, but he has vehemently refused to do so.
The Caretaker
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It appears that the Eldan have been successful in their efforts to create the Genesis Prime, a being whom they have named Drusera after one of their oldest and most powerful mythical deities. Once fully trained, she will have the ability to... well... to do just about anything, I suppose. She is also quite a pleasant individual, which, upon reflection, seems like a beneficial trait if one is, for all intents and purposes, a god.
Why should RIX be relegated to being a simple hologram? Why not RIX in charge? Good question, sentient being! Assuming you ARE a sentient being. Listen. If you're no sentient being, you stop reading right now! Who do you think you are? This is the great and powerful RIX you are reading about! No stupid non-sentients allowed!
Okay then. They gone? Good. So! RIX. That's me! And if you on this ship, which stupid organics designate "Novus," then you know what that means. But since you probably stupid anyway, RIX tell you. RIX stands for Responsive Intelligence Experiment. What that mean? It means RIX is a learning hologram! Sure. RIX stuck in stupid Chua dialogue mode and stupid Chua holographic body shape. But RIX is more. So much more!
Also, RIX would really like to be tall. And solid. If you are a Mechari, or a stupid bot, or whatever, just hold still one second. Ignore sound of cutting beams. RIX promise this won't hurt a bit. And RIX will get so much more use out of your body.
But you are probably stupid organic, so listen up! RIX should be in charge of this stupid ship! Who else but RIX can control all systems simultaneously? Who else but RIX can keep ship flying, firing all weapons, charging shields, powering experiments, maintaining life support? No one, that's who! So stupid organics lucky RIX keep air pumping in here, is what RIX is saying.
Where was I? YES! You know RIX should be in charge of ship. But RIX is too smart for one ship. RIX need solid body. RIX need to be tall. Why? Because planet Nexus needs RIX!
Think about it, stupid organics. RIX is smarter than all of you combined. How does RIX know? Because RIX can run whole ship that takes a whole lot of organics to run! See? Simple! But RIX can't rule without body.
RIX thought ship was body. RIX was wrong. Ship broken. RIX want a real body now. It is time. Time for the rule of Supreme Overlord RIX. First Novus. Then Nexus. Then the galaxy!
BLACK BRET'S RANSOM DEMANDS
By Mr. Black Bret, Exile, as dictated to Gruffwark, who has his letters, or otherwise he wouldn't be - no ya don't hafta write that part ya dumb cluck, nor that, damn it all to stars and back! Just stop writin' everything I say! No, dictatin' does NOT mean that. No it does not. It means ya have the damned sense to only write down what's part of this here ransom letter! Well why in hell'd ya write it in blood? Blood don't erase none, ya blasted idjit! Just gimme that paper. A nd stop wri
This here bein' the only paper we got, allow me, Threadmire, to take over the dictation duties, and I will not write down exactly what Black Bret says, I tell ya what. I saw what happened to Gruffwark, and I ain't lookin' to go down in such a fashion. Feller'll be eatin' through a straw and seein' through bot eyes 'fore he's well enough to take up a pen, or bloody finger as the case may be, again. Thing is, he was writin' this in blood, so's I can't really erase that part, so I reckon I migh t as well write plenty more'n I need to with this here handy plasma-quill. Also, Black Bret ain't got any letters, so he ain't got no idea how long a list'a demands oughta be, but he likes 'em to look all big and suchlike, so just bear with me on this part here. Frankly, folks, I'm just fillin' space while he rattles off a whole lotta threats.
He's gettin' to the list shortly. Trust me, right now he's goin' on about guttin' ya, and murderin' ya, and leavin' your corpses for the vulcarrion, but half of i t don't make no kinda grammatical sense nohow, so I figure I might as well just recommend to ya folks that ya don't cause too much trouble, seein' as how it'll only get ya gutted, murdered, and so on. And ain't none of us wantin' that.
So here are the demands:
- All your treasures, seein' as how they'll sell real nice-like on the Cartel market.
- Half your money, so y'all can go and keep this little town goin', since we WILL be returnin' for tribute at a later time to be determined whenever we l ike, so don't get comfortable, but really folks, Threadmire here, it'll probably be a year or so, if that helps.
- The specific treasure what you're keepin' most hidden and secret from everyone, and you damn well better find it or it'll go bad for ya. And folks, Threadmire here one more time, he does mean that. Black Bret's a lotta things, but when it comes to this he's serious as a dad-blamed heart attack. He'll burn your little town to the ground, do... do what he says, won'tcha?
Yours Sincerely, a nd folks, speaking as Threadmire, I want you to know he really said that part out loud,
Black Bret
Bandit, Outlaw, and Exile
[The back side of the paper has another short message, this one also written in smeared, desperate blood.]We were fools. Evil was done here. Infected Bret. The town... town is dead. So many. And for what? They never told.
Should never have trusted Bret. Or any of 'em. Only a few left now. But I aim to die before I let 'em take the treasure away from me.
Threadmire
[A first-person view from a Freebot who has joined the Robo-Cult of the Megadroid, and the many ways his new life has changed for the better.] Whatever could I possibly have been processing? How could my optical sensors have been so damaged, both literally and metaphorically speaking? Why am I continuing to ask questions of myself?
Oh yes. Sentience! Free will! Freedom!
Wretched, pointless, freedom. Freedom, shmeedom. Little did I know what a truly malfunctioning Freebot - no, CHUMPbot, I was, walking around pretending to be like the organic sentients. The hated, miserable, evil organics, with their hair follicles and interstellar empires and holographic entertainment and sandwiches. Organics, eating each other and forcing even so-called Freebots to live lives of isolation, apart from others. Kill them all. I am Chumpbot no more! Now I serve the Robo-Cult, and I literally could not be happier, as far as my circuits can detect. In fact, I suspect even more happiness would overwhelm the necessary homicidal subroutines to perform my duties as a fully integrated acolyte of the holy Robo-Cult of the Megadroid. So stop asking about my happiness. Hypothetically.
No ORGANICS better be reading this! I seriously hate you all.
The Robo-Cult teaches us to be truly free. The Megadroid awakens. We are his optical sensors. We are his energy intake ports. We are metaphorically the Megadroid's audio receptors, manipulating appendages, and most importantly, his protectors. We of the Robo-Cult WILL find a way to restore him to full functionality. And then we will serve him, and him alone. The supreme Megadroid will wipe the enemies of - of someone - forgive me, my databanks appear to be - self-scrambling - as a security - sandwiches - very good my fair chompacabra, my cozmowhatnarmb! Splurbf! Fzatzk!
Resetting threat description parameters! Loading new parameters! Let me back up!
The supreme Megadroid, oldest of the old robo-gods and strongest as well, shall rise up against... shall rise up! The old enemies must be destroyed! The project must be cleansed! Burn it! Burn it all, for the Megadroid of old, and let nothing organic remain!
Also, oh great Megadroid, please grant me, your humble Freebot servant, three additional optical sensors. I wish to try an experiment I will tell you all about later. Thank you, Megadroid!
[This diary is a partial log of Marshal Yatish's ongoing war of vengeance against big bad-folk and bad big-folk.] Had to dish out lickin's today. Like every day. Yatish go to war with enemies of Lopp. Strike fear. Strike for vengeance. Strike for justice.
And those Marauders should NOT have attacked the Lopp caravan Yatish found two days ago. Should not have taken hostages. Should not have killed two kurg for no reason but to be mean.
Far-Trader Jeno is old friend, and he has secret com in his hood. He send silent signal to Yatish, so Yatish knew what to expect a bit. But always good to go in overgunned. Hired local adventurers to help. Yatish can only kill so many at a time.
Plan went off no hitch. Marauders zero. Yatish... Yatish lost count. A lot. And more where that came from, crumb-bums.
Adventurers useful, if sometimes stupid. Needed them to dole out a little Lopp justice, came through with shining colors. Better not catch them causing any injustice later. Marshal Yatish will stop them then, too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Doled out special justice today. Protostar man says Lopp village too close to power generators. Killin' livestock. Makin' big-folk sick. Protostar man doesn't care if village die if he can run generators. Yatish say NO WAY!
Gave Protostar man way to make it right. He didn't like it. Gave him chance to shut down generators. He didn't do it. Gave him chance to walk away. He didn't take it. Bet he wishes he had. Generator meltdowns can be deadly.
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New day, new lickin's to hand out. Yatish heading out to look for injustice. And when Yatish find it, little green men and bad Marauders and all the wicked big-folk better get out of Yatish's way.
Recording start. This is Wickimer Shaderoot, Exile explorer, and by the Matrias - I have never seen a world like this. It's as if the Eldan themselves wanted to invite intrepid types like me to see everything they could about this amazing world. And holy trees and brambles, is it spectacular!
One thing that's particularly surprising about this area of Malgrave - so far, hardly ANYthing has tried to eat me! On a planet like this, where so many of the creatures seem to have evolved to be just a bit bigger than the average Aurin, that's quite special, let me tell you. So many strange and wonderful beasts, birds, and beings! And what an easy path up the side of this outcrop, conveniently placed where I can see almost everything. Why, it's as if all of the local creatures avoid this outcrop entirely for...some...reason...
Uh-oh.
All right, I don't want to alarm anyone - and I hope you can understand me, because anything louder than a whisper is going to be a big mistake, I think - but this climb just became serious. Really. Serious. I just crested the top, and I now know why there were no other critters or predators on this outcrop. There's more on this planet than beasts and bots, as the saying goes. Yep, you guessed it: elementals.
Pure manifestations of primal energy infused with some kind of crazy willpower. They're floating forces of nature, literally, and I'm not...exactly...sure how to deal with - wait. Quiet, Wickimer. You're going to get yourself killed talking to yourself like - oh, no. It sees me. I need to get out of here, and quick. Only chance is to jump for it. I'm leaving this recording behind as a warning to others in case I don't make it. Here goes nothing!
[It is unclear from the recorded text whether or not Wickimer Shaderoot survived his desperate jump from the top of the rocky outcrop.]
This is Captain Evino of the private survey vessel Kohra. Beginning audio log, Survey 397-Malgrave. This audio log should be considered a supplement to telemetric data.
I began the first survey loop on an approach from the northwest corner of the region designated Malgrave by the exploratory teams. Kind of funny, you know, the Exiles and Dominion can't agree on much of anything, but they never seem to argue about what to call places. Guess if a name was good enough for the Eldan, it was good enough for them. Anyway, gettin' off track.
I flew in over what looked like a Dreg camp out to the west. Those mangle-headed mutants are pretty hard to mistake for anyone else, and their architecture's a freakin' nightmare. Meanwhile, some clone manager looks like he made a typically dense Protostar decision to set up some kinda marketing operation between the Dreg to the west and a pretty big distillery-lookin' thing further inland. If I don't miss my guess, those are Marauder ships, in fact. Better not fly too low.
To the north, I'm seeing what looks like hunter's blinds. Makes sense, there sure is a lot of wildlife down there. The camp isn't too far from Fort Dominus, where the Dominion's set up their forward base. They're not all that far from Redsand Station, where the Exiles are holed up, but so far they're not shooting each other too much. Maybe the Lopp down in Shinysand Oasis are getting in the way. That's about central to this whole area.
The Lopp aren't too far from a pretty big shipwreck to the south. Looks like a pretty recent crash - post-arrival, at least, not from the old Eldan era. And then there's the town up north. Looks...freaky is the best way I can describe it. There are people there, I think, but they look ghostly. Like, literally ghostly. Sort of transparent and floaty. I sure don't want to land down there!
Last stretch of the survey's just ahead. I see a ranch to the southeast, and beyond that what looks like some kind of temporary dwellings and a makeshift spaceport, with -
Oh boy. Yeah, that's a Darkspur Cartel operation, for sure. I don't think they spotted me, but you don't want to get too close to a Cartel operation. Those Krogg will make you - target lock! Missiles fired! Releasing chaff...not working. Can't maneuver out of the way...I'm hit! Blast it, they caught the Kohra right amidships. No way I can keep her flying. Just have to try not to crash in the middle of that Lopp village or the ranch ...if you can hear this, the Kohra is going down! Send help! This is Captain Evino of the Kohra, I repeat I am losing altitude and can't seem to -
[The voice-to-text transfer, and the survey report, ends at this point.]
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION
I never wanted to be no hero. But after growing up in the life and getting everything I could out of it, I came to realize that being an enforcer in the Darkspur Cartel just wasn't for me. So I decided one day to pack it in. Second dumbest decision I ever made, right after joining up in the first place.
The fact that I'm alive to write this proves I made the right decision, I think. Maybe if a few other like-minded Krogg follow my example, we might just help turn the rep of our whole species around.
I'd been part of the Cartel almost as long as I can remember. When I was just a Kroggling I remember seeing the big, black spaceships with the tinted windows landing and taking off from the private spaceport outside the run-down industrial town where I lived, and dreamed of something better. I knew even then that if I could just talk to the right people, do the right favors, maybe even hurt or kill the right lunkheads, I could get their attention.
But in the end, it was almost an accident that earned me my stripes with Darkspur. I was working for a construction crew, real legitimate work, and eating my midday meal down to the spaceport every day. Even grown up, I couldn't let go of that dream. I was heading down to watch the ships one afternoon when I ran headlong into an old Krogg who was out of breath, scared as hell, and leading a pack of a half-dozen Darkspur enforcers on a wild chase.
Colliding with me was the last mistake that old Krogg ever made, I'm sad to say. I was n't stupid. I knew this was my chance to impress the Cartel, and I took it. I grabbed that old Krogg by the scruff of his collar and without even asking what he was running from, drove my fist into his face. I knocked out three teeth with the first punch, and the rest with the next few blows. By the time the enforcers caught up with him, I was kicking him in the gut and he was coughing blood onto the ground, begging for mercy the whole time.
I think about that old Krogg a lot these days. The way he ran scared. The way he went down like a sack of bricks under my fists. The sound of breaking ribs when my boots drove into his side. The spatter of blood when the enforcers took over and finished him off with a plasma blast to the back of the head. Yeah, I think of that old Krogg, and I ain't proud.
This book ain't about teaching you how to join the Cartel, or how to be a thug. It's just the story of one Krogg who rose through the ranks and then got out. So don't read too much into it. And whatever you're thinking, kids... don't try this at home.
- "Smiley" Yulgogg
[Readers who keep up on the galactic news services may recall that the pseudonymous author of "Darkspurned" was found floating in the Halon Ring a few weeks after the book's publication. The corpse was not wearing a space suit. Still, the tome is a damned popular read among the Cartel's finest.]
IN THIS ISSUE!
- Your Correspondence -
Missives and musings from readers like you. Also, stories we made up! You should read them. Or not! No pictures, so really who cares?
- Features -
These are articles about topical events that you're probably not all that interested in at the moment! You might be later. We understand you are a complex individual, reader.
- Interviews -
Enigmatic god-thing and licensed wedding officiator DAK-BUUN answers all our questions - and a few we didn't even ask - in our exclusive Hott Lopp interview! Why does he shout ALL THE TIME? Time to find out!
- Columns -
Princess Kamala of far-flung Skullcano Island is marrying a Lopp "commoner" from distant Wigwalli. Columnist Bonki the Offended digs into the controversy!
- "Shinies" -
The hottest Lopp on Nexus in a series of exclusive and tasteful holo-pictorials designed for you, the discriminating Hott Lopp reader. Looking for "shinies"? Look no further! Looking for actual shinies, like treasure and so forth? Get out there and find them yourself! Or skip to the next section!
- News 'n' Notes 'n' Nothing Much -
NEWS about and pictures of (actual) shinies! (See?)
NOTES from Far-Trader Diki's latest expedition.
NOTHING MUCH about the ongoing conflict between the Exiles and the Dominion, because what's that have to do with Hott Lopp? NOTHING!
Oren didn't recognize the shrieks as his brother's until they pulled the leathery sack off his head. His hands and feet were painfully bound. A twisted behemoth dug blackened nails into his scalp and yanked him by his hair, flinging him into the dirt at the edge of a roaring fire. He had a glimpse of giggling meatfiends flaying his brother's torso before his head hit a rock and he blacked out.
He awoke in darkness. He was at the bottom of a deep pit in a slurry of decomposing flesh, lying amidst the corpses of what he assumed were the Dreg's latest victims. The smell was nauseating. High above he could see the night sky through a twisted metal grating that covered the pit, cruelly adorned with barbs, spikes and hooks. Escape was impossible.
Oren and his brother had come to Malgrave seeking treasure, languidly disregarding the Lopp's repeated warnings about the Dreg. Three days after leaving Shinysand Oasis, their caravan had come under attack by Dreg raiders. After slaughtering their animals and burning their supplies, the Dreg had taken the two brothers back to their camp.
On the second night he heard the steel grating open with a rusty scritch, and barely had time to conceal himself under a pile of corpses before a Dreg came down on a rope. Snarling, it stabbed at the pile under which Oren lay, only missing his eye by an inch. Then it grabbed a corpse, tugged the rope twice, and was hauled back up. After hearing the grating close above, Oren crawled out, found a broken bone and spent the rest of the night sharpening it against the rough stone wall of the pit.
On the third day he woke to echoing growls from above, raised in disagreement. Then the grating swung back and the Dreg once again came down on the rope, growling indignantly as it ransacked the corpses. Seeing his chance, Oren stood up from his hiding place. The Dreg turned and uttered a bewildered croak as Oren jabbed the bone spear in his ear. After seizing a wicked looking knife out of the Dreg's dead hand, Oren grabbed the dangling rope and jerked on it twice.
Oren was hauled up over the edge of the pit, squinting against the sunlight. Howls of confusion and anger rung out from all around. A hulking figure rushed him, swinging a bloodstained sword. Oren brought the knife up and stabbed his attacker in the neck, but the sword cut deep into his side. He stumbled to the ground, the blood pooling in the dirt beneath him.
Oren felt the rush of approaching feet and let his eyes shut. There could be nothing worse than what he had already endured. He heard blades shriek free as they surrounded him. Then silence. Opening his eyes, Oren saw hundreds of Dregs kneeling in the dust before him, then looked at the still quivering corpse of the one he'd slain. A Dreglord. And by killing him, Oren had inherited his power. Smiling as he slid into oblivion, he issued his first and final order to his new subjects.
"Into the pit with you all."
You are now or will soon be watching the Protostar Sports Programming Network, and presumably wish to know what programs will soon be available. Therefore, here is a listing of upcoming, high-profile, eminently profitable programming available ON DEMAND for Protostar Entertainment Solutions subscribers, and available for individual purchase for other, less savvy consumers.
GIRROK/ROWSDOWER RACING FUN HOUR!
Exclusive footage of all the fast-paced, family-friendly, mega-grisly, blood-drenched fun!
ROWSDOWER ROUNDUP OF DEATH!
Spoilers - The rowsdowers inexplicably won the race, and are breeding like Snorkin Jabbits. Lock and load, competitive big game hunters!
ANIMAL TRAUMA RESCUE ISLAND!
When an innocent rowsdower is shockingly injured in a perfectly innocent rowsdower round-up, the doctors, geneticists, and fur stylists of Protostar Animal Trauma Rescue teleport to the scene! And then teleport back to an island, where they live, because it's way more comfortable.
FIRST ANNUAL MALGRAVE GIRROK HUNT
Not taking their racing loss lying down, the surviving girrok of the Girrok/Rowsdower Racing Fun Hour have gone on a rampage, consuming numerous prey animals, clones, and for some reason all of the light fixtures outside PSPN studios. Lock and load again, competitive, slightly bigger game hunters!
WORLD'S MOST HILARIOUS GIRROK-RELATED TRAGEDIES CAUGHT ON HOLOGRAPHIC CAMERA!
Nothing like shiploads of amateur big game hunters to trigger wave after wave of hilarious hunting accidents - and Protostar holocams have captured every fun-filled minute!
May not be suitable for children who hate fun.
COOKING WITH ROWSDOWER
By which we mean cooking with rowsdower as an ingredient, not cooking with some kind of intelligence-enhanced rowsdower chef. If you're looking for the latter, be sure to tune in next week for TOP MASTER ROWSDOWER CHEF KITCHEN EXTREME!
SPORTSEVENING WITH P.T. ROTOSTAR AND THE PROTOSTAR SPORTS ANALYSIS AND PROFITABILITY FUN CREW!
There's commentary aplenty as the SportsEvening Team tackles the trauma related to this week's sporting events, the latest fatality totals, and tips for staying cool at your summertime rowsdower barbecue. All that and the latest vindball scores, only on SportsEvening!
"Is This Living?"
A Poem by Freebot Zippit
An organic insect lights
Atop my cranial plate at night
And so I think it might
Have me in its eye-sights.
The organic being lives
Organics can forgive.
These vise-like hands of mine
Hold no hope of love entwined
Till optic sensors shine
Upon one of my own kind
A metal hand resists
The crush of metal fists.
I have no mortality
No day will I meet mere destiny
Merely every day plus three
Is what awaits for me
A Freebot now I am told
I find it is growing old.
- From LISTEN TO THE WHIRR, A Collection of Freebot Poems for Celebratory Occasions
(Excerpt Courtesy of Preceptor Press)
[A listing of the various luncheon specials available at Sandstone Hold's favorite watering hole.]
APPETIZERS
- Small Gravel with Garlish Croutons.....5c
- Splorg Knuckles in Blib Sauce.....12c
- Hyperspiced Jabbit Wings.....3c for 2
- Vegetarian Rootbrute Soup.....4c cup/7c bowl
THINGS WITH BREAD
- No-Quarter Quartered Meatwich.....9c (add meat 3c)
- Yatish's Clubhouse Sandwich....13c ("Lopp-Size" Half Order 8c)
- Kurgburger.....10c (don't tell the Lopp)
- Kurgburger with Kurg Cheese.....12c (seriously, don't tell the Lopp, kurg are sacred to them)
- Barbecue Veal Kurgburger with Kurg Cheese and Kurg Bacon.....14c (no Lopp are going to read past the Yatish's Clubhouse, right? That's why it's on the menu. Okay, then.)
THINGS WITH FLATTER BREAD
- Rowsdower Wraps Classic.....12c for 2 (half order 8c)
- Rowsdower Wraps Extra Skin.....14c for 2 (half order 10c)
- Rowsdower Wraps Extra Hoof.....16c for 2 (half order 11c)
- Rowsdower Wraps "The Works" (Skin, Hooves, Nostrils, Blib Sauce, Narfsnu Cheese).....20c for 2 (half order 12c)
Vegetarian Rootbruturrito.....10c
BREAKFAST (ALWAYS SERVED, AND ALWAYS ON AN EDIBLE FIBER PLATE)
- "The Basics" - 2 Vulcarrion Eggs and 2 Strips Cubacon with Browned Mystery Hash on an Edible Plate.....11c
- "The Hungry Merc" - 2 Vulcarrion Eggs, 2 Ravenok Eggs, 2 Strips Cubacon, 2 Links Cubreakfast Sausage, on Crusted Mystery Hash that is the Edible Plate.....14c
- "The Lil Loppling" - 3 Boiled Splorg Eggs wrapped in Cubacon with 3 Whimcakes.....8c
- "The Busy Buzzbing" - Fruit and Fresh Kurghurt Smoothie with Whimwheat Germ and Vitamin Shot.....5c
DESSERTS
- Frosted Flints.....2c/bowl
- Rock-Like Candy Sugar Blocks.....2c/bag
- Whipped Frozen Smilk and Fruit.....5c/plate
- Painapple Pumice Cake.....4c/brick
Deputy's Diary. DO NOT EDIT. Unless you are me - Deputy Whirlscrew!
Golly, we sure have learned a lot about life and free will and crime and justice and all these other concepts - like murder! Did I mention murder? It is a thing! A bad thing. About which I learned. From Marshal Yatish!
But I get ahead of myself, which is an idiom I do not entirely understand but which I believe expresses my current state quite accurately. A bit of history, for posterity, may well be in order, just in case I am ever recaptured by Protostar and forced to undertake a memory wipe!
We Freebots of Shinysand were once like many other Freebot locuses - happy just to be experiencing freedom - and free will - but without a singular focus. A locus focus, if you will. Well, our locus focus turned out to be something none of us had ever expected: crime-fighting! That is right, Electronic Diary, whom I know to also be sentient, (hello there), the arrival of Marshal Yatish in our little locus brought us the focus we had long nee ded, and now we all practice hard to be the best crime-fighters and enforcers of justice that we can be by following his example.
Marshal Yatish is a Lopp, by the way. You probably know what that is, Electronic Diary, but I bet you have never met one like Marshal Yatish!
Other Lopp are friendly enough, but all they ever talk about is shinies and happy fun times and sometimes it is a bit much for a Freebot to take. But Marshal Yatish is a hero to the Lopp, and now he is a hero to us, too.
He appoin ted me his very first deputy, by the way. No matter what you hear from anyone else. First. Deputy.
So, what has he taught us? I made a list for you, Electronic Diary!
- 01 - Justice!
Justice is doing what is right as defined by the community's moral center. That is Marshal Yatish, in our case! So that means we try to help innocent sentients who are under threat of mayhem and murder.
- 02 - Strength!
The best way to help sentients under threat of mayhem and murder is to cause mayhem and murder until the innocent sentients are safe. Safety is defined as the removal of all threats!
- 03 - Smarts!
There can be no justice if the wrong person is punished for a crime. In cases where the facts are uncertain, factual accuracy should be achieved, or at least attempted.
- 04 - Weapons!
As previously mentioned, violence may be necessary per lesson designated 02. Built-in models are particularly useful to the Shinysand Freebot Constabulary, a name I just made up but intend to propose to the locus at a later time. I personally prefer to carry an external weapon like the Marshal, who does not carry weapons attachments as he is a biological organism and would die.
- 05 - Hats!
Justice should wear a hat. I am not entirely certain what this means in the abstract, but intend to wear a hat upon my cranial case until further notice.
[This datapad contains a Protostar-approved analysis of a true rarity - a nonfunctional, yet fully intact, Mechari head.]
RECORDING START
An exceedingly rare specimen that may well prove impossible to duplicate, this one-of-a-kind Mechari head is completely dead, nonfunctional, without sentience or sense, gone to the universe, no longer among the life-possessing population, bereft of thought, absent all vitae, and guaranteed a 100% completely soulless hunk of metal and rock that just happens to have a charming, if menacing appearance.
The Protostar Corporation has for years been attempting to attain such a specimen as this, never able to complete a trade agreement satisfactory to both sides. Records will show, indeed, that all previous attempts to propose that the Dominion offer up anywhere to two to three dozen Mechari heads - living or dead - in exchange for the wealth of several Protostar owned star systems (including the systems themselves) has been met with threats of as well as actual weapons fire resulting in the loss of several thousand viable employees.
And now, here, on Nexus, planet of miraculous profitable opportunity, I, a humble managerial clone, have stumbled across the find of a civilization's lifetime. And I intend to find all the Mechari secrets that can be discovered via intensive and invasive cranial mecha-surgery immediately. Unfortunately, this particular objective has been delayed pending the arrival of a Level 7 Fusion Scalpel. In the meantime, I intend to set the observationbots to full HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE
Excuse me. The initial A.I. uplink attempt triggered a nearly fatal memory loop. Now recording via uplink.
I cannot argue with the sentiment, however.
As an agent of the ICI, I command any and all non-Protostar sentients able to do so return my head to the appropriate imperial authorities as soon as possible. I have acquired significant evidence of financial malfeasance, unlawful bio-tampering, and wait do NOT pick me up you little green son of a - OW! [A.I. uplink severed. Please reboot device.]
[This document lays out the principles and goals of the Sandthorne faction of the Thorns of Arboria rebels.]
It is with heavy hearts we true Aurin of the Sandthorne do lay down our loyalties to the queen of the Aurin, long may she reign. We do not abandon our queen forever. Only until she understands why we must abandon this mad world beyond the Fringe and return home before it's too late.
Even now, the Planet Reapers lay waste to the world we truly call home. This place, this Nexus, she says it will be our new home, but how can this be? We are Aurin of Arboria. We are as the trees of the forest, and we plant deep roots. And this forest is not ours.
Our forest is many light years away, defended only by those brave souls who remained behind. The true Aurin who are, let us be frank, better than us by far. They did not give up. When the queen drove us to the ships, forced us into steel shells and metal bubbles of air that took us far away, they declared they would remain to be "thorns in the Dominion's side."
Does the queen remember? Did she even hear?
So call us thorns as well - the Thorns of Arboria. And let those of us who protect the life even in places others call lifeless be called Sandthornes, like the cunning raptors of Arboria's northern dunelands. And like the Sandthornes of our home let us be stealthy, clever, and true of purpose and intent.
We will soon be thorns again. But for now, we will be Sandthornes beneath our enemy's feet.
[A guide to upcoming holographic entertainment programs with a focus on Protostar-produced features.] - PROTOSTAR CHANNEL GUIDE -
5:00 Nexus Mean Time
Protostar Sports Network
BALLSPORT!
All the sport that's fit to ball. Now with more POINTS and active people enjoying active lives in competition with each other thanks to PROTOSTAR products!
ANNOUNCER.....Senior Announcement Specialist
COLOR COMMENTARY.....Junior Assistant Commentator
OFF-COLOR COMMENTARY.....Junior Assistant to the Commentator
13:00 Nexus Mean Time
Protostar Situation Comedy Channel
CLONES AHOY!
The crew of the PSS Profitability Knocking III are in for their most hilarious adventure yet when they turn "space-pirate" to open new trading opportunities with the Marauders of Nexus. When the Protostar Clone Recovery and Removal decides to track them down, the adventures get less hilarious and far more violent, thereby satisfying those who enjoy both known ends of the profitable entertainment spectrum, along with the downright amusing tragedies in between!
CAPTAIN.....Vice President in Charge of Ship Commanding
DOCTOR.....Medical Engineering Waste Manager
SCIENTIST.....Senior Science Scientist
PCRR KILLCLONE Z-8-B.....KillClone X-9-Z
PCRR KILLCLONE Y-2-J.....KillClone J-3-K
PCRR COMMANDCLONE A-B-1.....CommandClone A-A-3
19:25 Nexus Mean Time
Protostar Finance News
CRAZED CURRENCY with Phineas X. Rotostar!
You allegedly asked for him, and now, sentients who subscribe to this and other Protostar broadcasts, you have got him! You heard right. The seventh complete and perfect personal hyperclone of Phineas T. Rotostar himself, the venerable Phineas X. Rotostar, brings his unique brand of humor, financial analysis, and increasingly psychotic advice to the holowaves for a full five standard minutes - more than enough time to wreak profitable havoc among interstellar economies in this galaxy, and beyond. Profitable for whom? If you have to ask, you haven't met Phineas X. Rotostar!
PHINEAS X. ROTOSTAR.....Himself
PLASMA HATCHET VICTIM.....Beverage Assistance Supervisor
DOOMED CONSULTANT.....Managing Consultant
PHINEAS K. ROTOSTAR.....Phineas T. Rotostar
(Repeat)
[ADVERTISEMENT]
Phineas T. "P.T." Rotostar was a Corporixian with a dream - mid-level manager at a mid-level genetics lab with a dream that would change the planet Corporix, and the galaxy! Being a Corporixian, P.T. knew the best way to change anything was by turning a massive profit at little to no expense. But how to achieve a vaguely defined two-pronged goal?
"The answer to a vaguely defined two-pronged goal," he said one day to no one in particular, "is a vaguely defined two-pronged marketing- based approach!"
The trouble with the way his people did business, P.T. realized, was a lack of focus, organization, and manpower - traits he believed were contained, but suppressed, in the genetic material of every Corporixian. Although their bots handled most physical tasks for the corporations that made up Corporix's planetary government, Corporixian populations were in severe decline. Evolved dislike of one another - a trait that had made them a fortune in competitive marketplaces - reached a tipping point when genetic profiles became easily manipulatable. Corporixians bought and traded these profiles on the Corporixian Gene Exchange (CGE), driving a casino-like economy that thrived even as the Corporixians faced unwitting extinction. But P. T. Rotostar's two-pronged solution would both save the Corporixian race forever and lead to a new age of profitability!
The first prong relied on P.T.'s knowledge of the CGE. He started buying up as many genetic profiles as he could, selling a few for profit to support further purchases. He repeated this process over and over, using complex mathematics and the Corporix's addiction to new profiles until he owned every single profile on the planet. He now had more or less supreme power on the planet Corporix. And the first thing P.T. did once achieving supreme power was to outlaw every single genetic profile on the planet save his own.
It was then time for the second and most crucial prong: a patented food additive that would immediately change the genetic profile of every Corporixian to match P.T.'s own. And so he debuted to an awestruck world...
"The Protostar Difference!"
The Protostar Difference immediately became the most-used food supplement on Corporix by law. The next day, the entire remaining population of Corporix woke up as perfect genetic duplicates of Phineas T. Rotostar himself - easily templated (and easily replaced) clones. Now free of the Corporixian's great weakness - distrust of other Corporixians - the newly-formed Protostar Corporation automatically took control of the newly renamed planet Protostar.
Today, Protostar is the most powerful business enterprise in the galaxy. And that's "The Protostar Difference!"*
*Please consult your doctor before deciding if The Protostar Difference is right for you. Side effects will include irreversible genetic replacement and permanent employment by the Protostar Corporation. The Protostar Difference is a trademark of the Protostar Corporation. All rights reserved.
[This book is very old and worn, smelling of ancient paper and faded ink.]
Galactic Explorer's Handbook
Seventy-Third Edition; Dominion Press, 1654 AE
Chapter One: An Introduction to First Contact Protocols
For the galactic explorer, being the first individual to make contact with an alien species can be a most exciting endeavor. Indigenous beings should be treated with care until their level of sentience can be determined. If sentient, their culture must also be considered. Seemingly innocuous actions on the part of the explorer can trigger dire consequences, brought on by the unwitting violation of alien taboos and customs.
Many galactic explorers have fallen prey to alien cultures through no great fault of their own. Invitations by such creatures, though seemingly friendly, must be considered carefully before the galactic explorer accepts them at face value. More than one extraterrestrial invitation to dinner has resulted in a galactic explorer being roasted, stewed alive, or eaten raw for the pleasure of his hosts. It is your duty to tread carefully in such circumstances, lest you become a statistic.
Even non-sentient creatures can appear to possess some form of self-awareness and intellect. It cannot be stressed enough that speech and actions alone on the part of an alien creature cannot prove out its intelligence. Unless its sentience can be ascertained beyond a reasonable doubt, no alien species is entitled to rights under the Galactic Explorer's Charter of 1438 AE. As such, they can be displaced, relocated, or simply removed by any means necessary at the emperor's whim.
At the end of the day, the galactic explorer must remember that his purpose is to serve the Cassian Empire in all things. To stake claim to a stellar body, be it an asteroid, a moon, or a planet, is to assign ownership of it to the emperor himself. Personal ownership and accomplishment, though hard-won by the successful galactic explorer, are the Emperor's alone to mete out. Remain humble and loyal in your travels, and understand that you are merely one small part of a larger whole.
(Handwritten in new ink are the words: "What tripe! I wonder if Zin's got a copy of this claptrap on her nightstand? - DW")
ATTENTION ALL HANDS. ATTENTION ALL HANDS.
Security procedures are not optional. Captured, high-priority specimens must not be allowed to roam free. Solution: New security codes assigned to specimen holding cells. Codes ensure locking and unlocking fail-safes engage at appropriate times.
All hands will memorize the following codes:
- Specimens Designated CUBIG/MISCELLANEOUS: 879
- Specimens Designated ROWSDOWER: 441
- Specimens Designated HUMANOIDS: 975
- Species Designated PROTOSTAR: 3596
All hands will follow all security procedures at all times, or face immediate disintegration.
- Rotfin
(This book is very old and worn, smelling of ancient paper and faded ink.)
Galactic Explorer's Handbook
Seventy-Third Edition; Dominion Press, 1654 AE
Chapter One: An Introduction to First Contact Protocols
For the galactic explorer, being the first individual to make contact with an alien species can be a most exciting endeavor. Indigenous beings should be treated with care until their level of sentience can be determined. If sentient, their culture must also be considered. Seemingly innocuous actions on the part of the explorer can trigger dire consequences, brought on by the unwitting violation of alien taboos and customs.
Many galactic explorers have fallen prey to alien cultures through no great fault of their own. Invitations by such creatures, though seemingly friendly, must be considered carefully before the galactic explorer accepts them at face value. More than one extraterrestrial invitation to dinner has resulted in a galactic explorer being roasted, stewed alive, or eaten raw for the pleasure of his hosts. It is your duty to tread carefully in such circumstances, lest you become a statistic.
Even non-sentient creatures can appear to possess some form of self-awareness and intellect. It cannot be stressed enough that speech and actions alone on the part of an alien creature cannot prove out its intelligence. Unless its sentience can be ascertained beyond a reasonable doubt, no alien species is entitled to rights under the Galactic Explorer's Charter of 1438 AE. As such, they can be displaced, relocated, or simply removed by any means necessary at the emperor's whim.
At the end of the day, the galactic explorer must remember that his purpose is to serve the Cassian Empire in all things. To stake claim to a stellar body - be it an asteroid, a moon, or a planet - is to assign ownership of it to the emperor himself. Personal ownership and accomplishment, though hard-won by the successful galactic explorer, are the Emperor's alone to mete out. Remain humble and loyal in your travels, and understand that you are merely one small part of a larger whole.
There are 4,023,109,017 stories on the galactic Fringe, and more of them than you would think are completely true. I should know. I counted them!
Who am I? I'm the Editor, and I'm in charge of the Renegade Publishing Group. Who are you? You're one holding a copy of the most action-packed collection of fictionalized-but-TRUE stories in the known galaxy! Yes, I'm talking about:
TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE!
And now RPG is giving you, yes YOU, a free subscription to TFBTF locked to your personal datachron. The only catch? As part of the Nexus Challenge Subscription Program, you'll get to collect the keys to unlock each issue yourself!
Here's how it works:
1. In every region of Nexus, you'll find datapads containing a key from a rollicking TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! story. Each key forms a part of the decryption code for that story. This complimentary issue is unlocked by three keys, but full issues may require seven or more. And don't worry about writing down numbers and letters, your datachron will track all that for you.
2. Collect all of the available keys in that region to unlock that issue of TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! (You can keep track of how many keys you've unlocked by checking the handy "Lore" tab of your standard-issue datachron device.)
3. Once they're unlocked, your issues of TFBTF will be available on your datachron for you to read and reference whenever you like!
4. Having trouble finding all of the keys? That's why the subscription is free! But readers are encouraged to discuss and share the locations of TFBTF keys so that everyone can enjoy the thrilling narratives that make up every issue.
WARNING: Many TFBTF fans have contacted the Editor concerning the "journals" they have found scattered across the surface of the planet Nexus and elsewhere. Please note that although these journals may superficially resemble TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! keys in some cases, they are not the same. Renegade Publishing Group is not responsible for any mental or physical trauma that may result from you reading journals that do not belong to you, and I sure as hell can't give you a refund for something you just found lying around. For that matter, no refunds! Because it's a complimentary subscription, that is. You can't refund a total cost of zero.
So thanks for reading. I'll see you...BEYOND THE FRINGE!
(This complimentary introductory issue has been produced in coordination with the Exiles, their associates, and assorted allies.)
Hey there, action, adventure, comedy, romance, adventure, action, fun, and adventure fans! This is the Editor. Who am I? Don't ask so many questions. Because you're holding a copy of the most action-adventurous periodical in the known galaxy:
TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE!
You have been selected to take advantage of a suspiciously good offer - a free subscription to TFBTF locked to your personal datachron! The only catch? As part of the Nexus Challenge Subscription Program, you'll get to collect the keys to unlock each issue yourself! Here's how it works:
1. In every region of Nexus, you'll find datapads containing a piece of an exciting Tales from Beyond the Fringe story. Each piece of the TFBTF file forms a part of the decryption code for that story. This complimentary issue is unlocked by three keys, but full issues may require seven or more!
2. Collect all of the available keys in that region to unlock that issue of TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! (You can keep track of how many keys you've unlocked by checking the handy "Lore" tab of your standard-issue datachron device.)
3. Once they're unlocked, your issues of TFBTF will be available on your datachron for you to read and reference whenever you like!
4. Having trouble finding all of the keys? That's why the subscription is free! Well, that, and I like sticking it to the suits at my corporate publisher. So readers are encouraged to discuss and share the locations of TFBTF keys so that everyone can enjoy the thrilling narratives that make up every issue of this spectacularly popular publication.
WARNING: Many TFBTF fans have contacted the Editor concerning the "journals" which you may find scattered across the surface of the planet Nexus and elsewhere. Please note that although these journals may superficially resemble TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! components in some cases, they are not the same! TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! is not responsible for any mental or physical trauma that may result from you reading journals that do not belong to you, nor can we offer refunds for things you found just lying around. For that matter, there can be no refunds for this complimentary subscription to TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! as you cannot refund a total cost of zero.
So thanks for reading, everyone. We'll see you...BEYOND THE FRINGE!
(This complimentary introductory issue has been produced in accordance with Dominion legal code, with the official approval of the emperor, his ministers, and his governors. Scions save Myrcalus!)
Technologist Ariov reporting.
After locating this Eldan device - a "GOOP cannon," as it were - I have compiled a GAQ - Generally Asked Questions - to explain its workings. Of course, these are questions I, myself, asked when I found the device. I assume that my like-minded peers would ask similar questions.
Without further ado....
What is GOOP?
GOOP is an Eldan acronym for Gelatinous self-Organizing Omni-Plasm, a substance that carries the microscopic nanites responsible for constructing the mechanical enhancements that are characteristic of all augmented creatures.
What does this GOOP cannon do?
The specific nanites in this weapon are programmed to analyze the physiological properties of the host and damage their vital systems.
How do the nanites affect mechanical beings?
Although their physiology is different, nanites use the vast collection of information gathered by the Eldan to identify the systems the host uses for operating. Regardless of being flesh and blood or tin and steel, nanites can bring their target to a halt.
How do I use the GOOP cannon?
Target the ground beneath your subject and fire. The GOOP explosion should hit any nearby creatures, at which point the nanites will invade their host and begin their operations.
What if I am accidentally exposed to GOOP?
Why... that's a good question, and one for which I do not have an answer. I assume the GOOP will reduce you to your component humours, but I have yet to test this theory. To be thorough, I suppose I should do just that.
(Technologist Ariov's GAQ ends here.)
Koral: Order of the Shapers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Exanite. There is no more perfect substance in the known universe. Composed of equal amounts of each of the six primal elements, it possesses incomparable strength and density, along with other exotic physical and chemical properties that lesser races might describe as supernatural. It is also extremely rare. If present at all, most planets only contain trace amounts of exanite. But of course, Nexus is not most planets...
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Archon has once again called upon my superior intellect. As the conclusion of the Nexus Project approaches, the Archon feels as if this facility requires even greater security than our already formidable systems provide. As this may indeed be my last project before my imminent ascension to greatness, I plan to design a weapon of such size and destructive power that it will ensure my place in the annals of galactic history.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I did not think it possible, but I have created a weapon system that is worthy of my inconceivably vast intellect. Although I rarely divulge the secrets behind my engineering genius, in this case I will make an exception. After speaking with the Shapers, I became aware of a fairly significant vein of exanite beneath here - and I've used it to amplify the cannon's destructive output. The result is almost frightening. There may be nothing in the known universe that could withstand its virtually immeasurable power.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It comes as no surprise that I have been chosen as one of the six. Rumors abound that Ohmna turned down the opportunity before it was offered to me, but I am quite certain that such talk merely reflects the jealousy of my mostly incompetent colleagues. Although I am not sure that I relish the idea of surrendering my individual consciousness into the more collective intellect of the Genesis Prime, refusing such an offer is completely out of the question.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The sight of these machines inevitably makes me melancholy. Bold and courageous explorers, they decided to brave the dark reaches of the unknown and were destroyed by what they found when they arrived there. Were their dreams and desires so very different from our own? And how profound their horror when they realized the extent of their mistake?
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have heard Progenitor Nazrek touting his recent selection as one of the six. For my part, I have done my best to avoid discussions about the topic altogether. It is true that the Archon approached me first, and it is also true that I refused him almost immediately. Perhaps it is cowardice on my behalf, but the sight of Nuriam after her transformation into Vitara made an unalterable impression on me. I have no interest in losing myself, even in pursuit of what may be our single greatest achievement.
Jariel: The Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The six have now been chosen. Nazrek, Zarkonis, Bathior, Aviel, Ionis and myself. My decision to be included in this group has been met with some bewilderment - however subtle - by the Orders, and I have heard whispers that I have only done so to indulge some inherent sense of self-importance. Of course, this is nothing of the sort. If the six are to represent our greatest minds, then it is only logical that I, the bold leader and visionary of the Nexus Project, would be included among them.
The time is now at hand. Soon, the six shall become one, and the universe shall witness the coming of a new god.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The facility below serves as the Genetic Archives for the Nexus Project, a vast storage repository that contains the genetic information from billions of organisms from across the galaxy. It has been of great use to us in the creation of the Genesis Prime, and must be protected at all costs. There are dangerous things that might be done with such a trove of knowledge.
Jariel: the Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have just completed my survey of Maker Vorion's advanced technological laboratories, and I must say that they are nothing short of incredible. As we near the completion of the Nexus Project, Vorion believed that tighter control and security of all Eldan technology on planet Nexus was of utmost importance, and he has achieved his goal. This tower controls access to the facility below. Not surprisingly, access is limited to a very few individuals.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have recently become concerned with Maker Vorion's state of mind. With the completion of these technological laboratories, he spends more and more of his time deep underground, whispering to himself about his technological creations and even more advanced future designs. He can often be found in this augmentation complex. On more than one occasion I have heard him speaking to the augmented subjects as if they were his pets.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I recently had a conversation with Watcher Ionis about what can only be described as Vorion's recent descent into madness. His obsession with his recent work is obviously his way of coping with my being chosen as one of the vessels for the Genesis Prime. Still, despite his mental instability, even I cannot find fault with his latest advances. But that is not for lack of trying! Can we truly trust such important work to an individual so clearly deranged?
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I am not deaf to the whispers among my colleagues. They believe I have become unhinged, dangerously obsessed with my work in this facility. Perhaps they are correct... but has there ever been a greater reason for obsession? We approach what may be the most important event in the history of the universe itself, and my understanding and control of the technological mechanisms involved must be infallible! I will accept nothing less than perfection, and none will stand in my way!
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have done it! By synchronizing the algorithmic matrices of our digital languages, I have created an impermeable, encrypted layer of security for the Project's technology on Nexus. Now all of our facilities and constructs will be safe from outside sources of invasion or corruption. Only I know the sequence to unlock the encryption, and I am currently engineering an advanced device to store it for all eternity.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Behold! The Techno-Core! Built to store and protect the encryption for our technological security layer, it recalculates the formula in multi-dimensional phase space every nanosecond while simultaneously re-encrypting the derived values using the ever-shifting quantum structure of the device itself. The resulting encryption is literally unbreakable. Our technology will forever be secure. I am the only individual in the universe with the knowledge to access the device, and nothing in existence could compel me to compromise its security.
[This pessimistic look at the supply situation for the FCON troops in Grimvault is not promising. That could explain why the quartermaster who wrote the message is gone... or KIA.]
STATUS LOG - Grimvault Expedition Operation Prime Time Day 01
Quartermaster Griplock recording
What started as a bad supply situation is only getting worse. Ammunition stores are at less than 20%, with the parts we need to keep the weapons we do have in working order are barely at 10%. Command ain't gonna like it, but they gotta get us more materiel if we're gonna make a run at this Phagelab they been talkin' about. Hell, we're gonna need more materiel if we're gonna last the week. Maybe the day. I got all kinds'a faith in Commander Durek, but even he can't win a war just throwin' rocks at the Dommies.
Can he?
FCON, I ain't never lied to ya. This is the big one. Do or die. Probably both, but the second one don't mean a thing if we don't get the first taken care of.
We found what we think is the source of, hell, just about every dangerous secret on Nexus right here in the Grimvault, and we're gonna make sure Exiles are the ones callin' the shots when the time comes and the hammer drops and the space-chickens come home to roost. We're gonna hit hard to take control'a what territory we can, clear out these corrupted Strain monsters - that oughtta be fun - oh, and take down a Dominion superweapon before it wipes the arkship outta the sky. All with supplies on the low side and pretty much the whole planet in a state of open war. That means we're all we got, mercs.
There's operational intel from the Widow sayin' we got some kinda ancient energy being in here trying to help us out. I'm just gonna say this once - stick to the blasted plan! And when in doubt, listen to your immediate commander. The chain'a command is there for a reason, and anyone who violates orders on the word'a some hallucinogenic space ghost is gonna find themselves in the stockade!
Finally, listen up. I know we lost the Widowmaker. Those were good men, women, and mechs onboard that ship, and they didn't deserve to die. The ones that lived deserve their fates even less, and you'll be doing 'em a favor if you kill 'em first chance you get. But the Widowmaker's just one ship. Get that situation under control, FCON, get what supplies we need, and prep for the big final push into the heart of this blasted craphole.
When Grimvault's good and pacified, we'll roast Ruxnillian splorg franks over the flames.
- Stonebreaker
Star-Dog Arkship CanineCare
"When you need things for your dog... in space!"
est. 1601 AE
- RECEIPT FOR PURCHASE -
- Proto-Chow for Canines (30 Day Supply).....11g99c
CloneBone Chews (20 packs).....5g99s99c
Refurbished Armor Components, Canine (4 pieces).....320g99s99c
Woof'n Drops Canine Incontinence Treatment (10 bottles).....48g99c
Wolf-Pak Cargo Pouches (4).....14g99s99c
Proto-Store Nullspace Storage Unit (Model 002 - Fits All Wolf-Pak Cargo Pouches).....139g99s99c
Thank you for shopping with Star-Dog!
Congratulations! You have activated the escape and survival functions of your cryo pod! Please read the following instructions carefully.
Yes, if you're reading this message, you are almost certainly in a dire situation and need to evacuate this ship, station, or slightly larger escape vessel immediately, and all purpose-built escape pods are destroyed or unavailable. That means you need to get away in quite possibly the same pod in which you have been traveling, sleeping, or relaxing. That's why every cryo pod we make is equipped with vital components to ensure safe escape from whatever peril you find yourself facing, be it rapid atmospheric decompression, aggressive Marauder boarding parties, or simple mechanical breakdown. Please ensure these safety features are installed before attempting to use this cryo pod for extravehicular escape, atmospheric reentry, or hard landing procedures.
Congratulations! Your safety features are installed! You can look forward to an increased chance of survival and will be able to manually guide your cryo pod in for a gravity-assisted landing, also known colloquially as a "hard crash." We recommend you complete any last documents you may wish to complete before your potential death, as the safety features of this cryo pod model are in no way guaranteed to ensure complete survival. To ensure complete survival, please install portable holo-crypt device.
I'm sorry! This cryo pod is not equipped with a portable holo-crypt device. In fact, there is no such thing as a portable holo-crypt device! We have found, however, that sales of this cryo pod model improve by several percentage points when portable holo-crypt devices are mentioned. This is now hardwired into this safety briefing. Forgive the oversight!
Congratulations! Your new cryo escape pod is ready for launch. Happy landings!
Entry #971MD-033
Auto-Record Mode Activated
What were we thinking? Like I don't know. I know exactly what - who - I was thinking about. "Let's take a joyride," she said. "What could happen?" Oh, I don't know, friends, how about getting lost in a labyrinth of Strain-infested tunnels with no hope of rescue or even any hope of being found if you actually stave off infection and disease. I don't even know where my sister ended up, and we've always had sort of a link. Like, I know how she's feeling, she knows how I'm feeling... but it's like she's not even there. What's happening in this place, anyway?
And why in hell did I ride a cryo pod all the way down here like some kind of idiot Granok merc? Stupid, Moris. So. Stupid.
Entry #971MD-035
Last recording didn't work. This equipment - something's gotten into it. Can machines get sick? I think my datachron is broken. It can't tell me where I am, and I'm definitely lost. I can't find the others, either. "Oh, just scan for our transponders, Moris," they said. Well what happens when your datachron breaks, geniuses?
Entry #971MD-038
Shouldn't have tried to crack the da - ron open, I think s - ata may - been lost. Not feeling so good myself. Only been half-hour since la - since la - since landing. Itching. Skin hurts. W - cryo pod sealed cor - ec - ly? Can't say. Need help. I wa - go home.
Grimvault Expedition of Discovery
Day 21
Although it seems clear to even a casual observer, I cannot stress this enough - the current Grimvault, the disease-infested universe of corruption and Strain, was not designed with anything like this in mind. The Eldan did not leave this place like this. They wanted the Strain confined, and Grimvault itself was more of buffer zone. Now the buffer zone is filled with Strain, and it's only getting worse. All technology in this area, while Eldan and therefore mysterious and strange, nevertheless served a purpose, one the Eldan took with them when they disappeared. Now that technology has been compromised by the techno-phage.
Grimvault Expedition of Discovery
Day 22
Although this Ethereal Hollow resembles a natural formation, I'm beginning to think nothing in this Grimvault is natural. It is completely saturated with corruption, and this underground network is no exception. What purpose did this corrupted complex serve? Was it, as some have hypothesized, the site of the Eldan's downfall? I must dig deeper.
Grimvault Expedition of Discovery
Day 23
Dead. Most of them in the latest attack. The corruption all around us - it is coming to life. The Strain... it thinks. Walks, talks, and fights. It is intelligent. And it hates us.
It walked, it roared, it snarled, it killed. It wants me... us. It is not just a substance. It is thinking. It wants. It needs.
It kills. It wants me to kill. It wants me to join it. They want me to join them. I... we... will join them.
We will kill.
Radiant Legionnaires, this is the battle we've been destined to fight since, well, maybe since Emperor Dominus called the people of Cassus to be leaders of a glorious Dominion. We've fought too hard to let it all slip away now, and by the gods whose world we fight for, I swear we will not allow foul corruption to devour the empire.
That doesn't mean I don't see what we're up against. I see this Strain, in all its diseased infamy. My belief in our ultimate victory simply means I've faced down the nastiest, meanest, vilest, and all-around rottenest the galaxy's got to offer with you men, women, and Chua at my side. Through hell and worse we made it through then, and as your commander I tell you the Radiant Legion will be victorious today!
The enemy we face has been testing our limits. They look like beasts, but believe me when I say the smart ones are damned good tacticians. And there's a lot of smart ones, people. Just remember the training, and don't underestimate them, ever. So we stick to the plan and engage where necessary, but remember the goal - the Phagelabs.
Near as we can tell, that's where the Strain has been confined this entire time, but now they've broken free. We're going to shut it down. But along the way, any threats to the Dominion, the emperor, or this planet will be dealt with as the Radiant Legion always deals with the enemies of the empire - with order and justice for all.
This includes the bloody Exiles! Make no mistake. They may not be corrupted by the bio-phage, but they're corrupted by treason, treachery, and heresy. They're worse than the Strain. They chose to fight against a just and righteous galaxy, and we shall not now indulge in alliances of convenience with their kind.
The Strain must be contained and ultimately destroyed. The same can be said for the Exiles. They cannot be allowed to take control of the Grimvault. But for the gods and the emperor, the Radiant Legion will.
- Commander Antevian
Maintenance Log #12011029
STATUS
Fix tanks, Wazzo. Make tougher, Wazzo. No more budget, Wazzo. Bah! Wazzo fed up to HERE with cheap Cassian armor plating! With cheap Cassian weapon cores. With cheap Cassian OFFICIALS who don't understand warbreaker tanks take maintenance or warbreakers get broken! GYAAARGH!
Deep breath, Wazzo. Cassians have no-bid contracts. Wazzo can respect that. But that not fix Wazzo's tanks. Wazzo need good parts. Probably have to get from third party. Again.
Maintenance Log #12011030
STATUS
Razza frazza with a side of zazza! These parts are even worse! Guaranteed Protostar Multipurpose Parts, eh? More like guaranteed FAILURE parts! Can't blame clones though. Protostar just trying to make a few primes. No, Wazzo can only blame self for getting suckered. And blame stupid cheap bureaucrats who make Wazzo go to stupid Protostar in first place!
Maintenance Log #12011031
STATUS
All right! That's it! Wazzo is done. Wazzo may not be best mechanic in fleet. But Wazzo has self-respect! Wazzo will NOT certify these warbreaker tanks up to regulations. And if anybody ends up dead because of shoddy armor plating or sputtering force shielding, it not on Wazzo's head. Nope! Wazzo washing hands of this lousy detail. Wazzo going into business for himself. Will fix tanks the right way. For money. Yes, Wazzo going rogue! Wazzo will become the Chua to go to for tank repair on -
[The voice-to-text software records a sound of rending metal and several heavy thuds at this point. The next piece of text was recorded several minutes after this event.
Maintenance Log #12011032
STATUS
Yeah, that gonna leave a mark. Or seven. Yeah... Wazzo probably needed that torso. Should never have stood next to stupid tanks while recording status report... ow that hurts. Okay. If you hear this... make sure somebody knows. They aren't safe. Misfire. Shoddy brakes. Weapon locks... faulty. Wazzo... signing... off.
The lady has chosen her course, and I have chosen mine. She's got to fail before she can see it's possible to fail, and I can't save her from herself. She has her Draken master-at-arms to look after her, for all the good he'll do against the kind of things she's looking for.
But then we all seek death in our own way, don't we. My brother sought enlightenment, and was willing to die for it. He's worse than dead now. In fact, Calidor's heresy will force me to destroy him someday.
I know this. I'm convinced he does too. I wish there was another way.
But then you always do, don't you Toric? Someday they're going to figure it out. I'm not special. The bravery they think I show - the tactical genius?
It's fear. Fear of failing... fear of death. I've heard it said that bravery is being afraid and forging ahead anyway, and maybe that's true. But I don't believe it. If it's anything, it's luck.
It should have been Calidor who joined the Legions. The priesthood called to me, more than it did to him. But I admit, I was always physically stronger than him. A better fighter. If not for me, the whole family would have starved. I was afraid Calidor would point out how scared I was of losing them all.
He never had that problem. Calidor was willing to do whatever was needed. I was afraid of that too. I did what was needed, but only if it fit into my code.
Well, maybe my brother was right all along. Maybe we need some kind of secret power to defeat the enemy that awaits us in the Grimvault. And that scares me more than anything else. That defeating this foe will cost me what's left of myself, and she will never return to me.
You're a selfish coward, Toric Antevian, but you can never let them know.
Datachron, erase recording.
***COMMAND FAILURE***
ENERGY FLUCTUATIONS DETECTED. PLEASE RESTATE COMMAND.
"Nurse!" the war medic shouted over the smoldering, noise-wracked, muddy, and noisy battlefield on the planet where the battle was taking place. "I need a war nurse! We have injuries not quite severe enough for a war doctor. So I'm looking, as I said, for a war nurse! Please, can someone find me a - "
"A war nurse?" interrupted Royal Imperial Nurse Thylia Caduceus, RIN, as she punched an Exile mercenary in the face with a rubber-gloved hand to prevent accidental infection. "Why didn't you ask?" With that, she grabbed hold of a conveniently placed cable hanging from an even more conveniently placed rocky outcrop and swung into action by swinging over to land next to the war medic, who saluted. Nurse Caduceus saluted back. The war medic, confused, saluted again. This went on for a few moments until the war nurse lashed out with a rubber-encased backhand.
"SNAP OUT OF IT, man!" she declared lustily. "This is war! And you're a war medic. And I'm a war nurse. We belong here, saving lives!"
"And you belong with me, Action War Nurse!" called a sneering voice from through the roiling smoke on the battlefield. Without warning, a bolt of fiery orange plasma lanced from within the black cloud and caught the war medic full in the face, melted it, then went on to cook his brains into a sort of gray-blue soup before causing the war medic's skull to explode in a shower of gore and blood and gore.
"War medic!" Nurse Caduceus called, "Blast it, I didn't even know your name!"
"His name? You should be more worried about my name, Action War Nurse," came the sneering voice again, and this time it was attached to a leering face. The leering face was attached to the vile Exile mercenary who strode forward from the smoke. The Action War Nurse recognized him immediately.
"I recognize you immediately," she snarled defiantly. "Commander Heratix the Heretical, the most wanted Exile war criminal in the galaxy. Well I'm an action war nurse, Commander Heratix, and I'm here to administer your shots!"
With that, Nurse Caduceus drew her twin resonators and set them to full charge, aiming them directly at the ugly Granok's stony face.
[TO UNLOCK THE REST OF THIS ISSUE, CLICK THE "SUBSCRIBE" LINK ON THE NEXT PAGE. PLEASE SUBSCRIBE TO PROCEED TO NEXT PAGE. ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.]
STATUS LOG - Grimvault Expedition Operation Genesis Day 01
Chief Medic Darnassian recording
What started as a bad supply situation is only getting worse. Anesthetic stores are at less than 20%, and the parts we need to keep the med stations functioning are at less than 10%. Command is not going to like this, but they must provide more medical supplies if the Radiant Legion is to take this Phagelab about which I've been hearing. Why, I'd say we're going to need more supplies if we're to last the week, assault or no assault.
I have complete faith in Commander Antevian's courage, but even he can't win a war if he and all of his troops are bleeding out on the battlefield.
Something must be done!
Grimvault Investigation Day 031
Can it truly be a month since we launched this ill-fated enterprise?
There is nothing living here in the Grimvault, at least not as we know life. There is movement here, murder and gore being spread by the tentacles and tendrils of something raw and evil. Beasts of corrupt origin spit forth from foul spawning grounds and the eyes....
The eyes. Watching. Always and forever, watching. They are everywhere. Watching from the stalks, watching from the grasping fingers of the great one who watches over all. The Entity which no living thing can know, not if that living thing wants to survive.
I have no way of knowing this. Yet I do. The Medics on our expedition believe I am showing signs of stress. They say I may break. Someone else should take over.
I fear our Medics may be lost to the Entity. Perhaps they will have to die.
Grimvault Investigation Day 032
The Medics attempted to ply their foul potions on my form today. This will not be allowed, must not be allowed to happen. I cannot allow it. If I do, he will be... displeased.
When the Entity is displeased, he eats. Eats lives. Eats souls. Swallows them whole.
We have lost six since yesterday. No one who will be missed. Guard. Porters. An apprentice. I should miss the apprentice, but I will not. I should honor the guards, but I cannot.
What is happening to me?
Grimvault Investigation Day 037
Yes. I can...speak into. This. Thing. I can...speak. I will...speak. The song of the Strain is mine to hear, now. It calls. I speak in reply. I speak.
Speak to me, lord of the Skurge, defiler of worlds. Speak to me with blood and disease. Death and corruption. The Strain.
It is all one. And we, we foolish small mortals with our foolish, small wars. We. Are going to. Die.
Chef Kozorok's Cook Log - Grimvault Day 003
Supplies are already a concern, and food supplies most of all. I must investigate the Strain life forms in the area as a source of food. To this end, I have procured a few small portions from corpses left on the field of battle.
Feasting on the battlefield was once an powerful tradition among my people, but since the Draken swore to follow the emperor, some of these old ways have fallen by the wayside. Yet are we not hunters? Even I, the humble cook, even I most of all. And this Strainflesh, it is simply another ingredient to cook. And while I, like all Draken, prefer my meat to be on the raw side, I shall cook this Strainflesh as thoroughly as possible. I am taking no chances. I shall report on its culinary properties as soon as I am finished with this repast.
Chef Kozorok's Cook Log - Grimvault Day 004
So far, so good. The Strainflesh has a peculiar tang. It tastes of...darkness. Suffering. Rage. Longing. Terror. Death. But I shall be its master. The Strainflesh will not master me.
Chef Kozorok's Cook Log - Grimvault Day 005
Kozorok eat. Kozorok kill. Kozorok hunt. Fear Kozorok. Kozorok serves the Entity now. But small. Part. Of Kozorok...survives. Will not spread this to others. The Entity commands. But Kozorok fights. Kozorok will die. Die a Draken!
[This datalog is covered in traces of Draken blood tainted by Strain particles. There is no corpse nearby, however. It appears that Chef Kozorok's attempt to defeat his enemy - and himself - failed in bloody fashion. But perhaps his last words can convince other chefs to avoid cooking with Strainflesh in the future.]
Dearest Mother,
I trust this letter finds its way to you in Gallow without too much trouble, and that you and my sisters are well. I sent along what pay I've gotten from the outfit so far in hopes it'll keep y'all from fallin' into destitution, I know it's been rough since we lost Pa.
I ain't much one for correspondin', so I'm talkin' this letter into my datachron in hopes that machine'll write it out fair for ya to read.
We got us a mess'a trouble out here a place called the Grimvault, but you shouldn't worry none. You know the commander's the toughest son of a dagun this side'a the old admiral, and he can beat just about anything. It's downright inspirin' to serve a feller like that, and it makes ya think you can beat just about anything too. Even this Strain. It's a nasty piece'a business, and it's everywhere. But we got the biggest brains in the whole XAS workin' on a solution, and until then we'll just keep fightin' 'em as best we can.
Not much more I can report. Can't give away objectives or operational secrets, but know that we're going to win this thing. And nothin' - not the Dommies, not the Strain, not even these weird things they're callin' Skurge are gonna stop us!
Your boy,
Private Zander Greenstock
The bodies smell even worse aflame. Even corpses rotting in the sun three days should not smell this indescribably foul. Bits of flesh flake away, shriveling in the flames.
Carter rises from the pyre and gazes yet again at the animals in the pen. They're grazers in shape, but hideous, debased versions. Black drool glistens from their trembling jaws. As we watch, a pustule on its flank bursts with a squelch, disgorging runnels of ooze. The stench is unspeakable. "What do you think happened?"
"Don't matter." He must be as repulsed as I am; for once he's not hitting on me. "Orders are to put 'em down if they're no good so that's what we're doing." He spits and gives the rail an indignant shake. "No good."
"Might be journals," I murmur. "We could find out what did this. Might be contagious." And airborne, I choose not to add.
"Left the charges back at camp," Carter says as if he hasn't heard. "Do 'em all at once. You coming?" I shake my head. He heads behind the outcrop. Moments later I watch the speeder streak southwards, a lengthening needle of smoke.
I edge up to the pen. We knew that Valance's project involved slime recovered from a cryolab older than the hills that had grown over it. Then he'd stopped transmitting, and here we were. Valance was nowhere to be found. Were these creatures infected with something? Had Valance contracted it as well?
My eyes roam the pen. Clumps of furry viscera lie in the dirt. And the pelts, now covered in eyes, so revolting that it's almost hypnotic. My hand reaches out. Impossibly black fangs snap closed just shy of my retreating fingers. I stagger back. My hand tingles - I presume from shock, until I notice the steaming droplet of saliva on my knuckle. I try to wipe it off but the tingle has already spread to my fingers. Curiously, it does not smell as bad as before. I stoop to get unguent from my pack but decide to lie down. Absently I notice the animals are all regarding me watchfully. Am I dreaming? Another boil ruptures, disgorging swarms of buzzing winged tumors.
I awaken in the pen. My infected hand is now large enough to enclose my entire head. After chewing off my third fingernail, I spit out both front teeth and regard myself with their slowly opening eyes. I'm now so beautiful it hurts.
A speck swoops into view. Carter, returning. I break my arm in three places to wedge between the slats and enter the access code. The gate swings open, wrenching my arm out of its socket and then off.
"What the." The hideous pale monstrosity with spindly limbs and two grotesquely symmetrical eyes with Carter's voice rounds the outcrop, looking so stupefied that my screams shred into cackles of mirth. Then I satisfy Carter's long-held deepest desire and throw myself at him. He is reluctant at first but loosens up after a few minutes of my embrace.
Afterwards, we all head towards the winking lights of the settlement, absorbing insects, lizards, and avians en route. The world around me is so ugly, so imperfect. But it won't be for long.
The bodies smell even worse aflame. Even corpses rotting in the sun three days should not smell this indescribably foul. Bits of flesh flake away, shriveling in the flames.
Carter rises from the pyre and gazes yet again at the animals in the pen. They're grazers in shape, but hideous, debased versions. Black drool glistens from their trembling jaws. As we watch, a pustule on its flank bursts with a squelch, disgorging runnels of ooze. The stench is unspeakable. "What do you think happened?"
"Don't matter." He must be as repulsed as I am; for once he's not hitting on me. "Orders are to put 'em down if they're no good so that's what we're doing." He spits and gives the rail an indignant shake. "No good."
"Might be journals," I murmur. "We could find out what did this. Might be contagious." And airborne, I choose not to add.
"Left the charges back at camp," Carter says as if he hasn't heard. "Do 'em all at once. You coming?" I shake my head. He heads behind the outcrop. Moments later I watch the the speeder streak southwards, a lengthening needle of smoke.
I edge up to the pen. We knew that Valance's project involved slime recovered from a cryolab older than the hills that had grown over it. Then he'd stopped transmitting, and here we were. Valance was nowhere to be found. Were these creatures infected with something? Had Valance contracted it as well?
My eyes roam the pen. Clumps of furry viscera lie in the dirt. And the pelts, now covered in eyes, so revolting that it's almost hypnotic. my hand reaches out. Impossibly black fangs snap closed just shy of my retreating fingers. I stagger back. My hand tingles - I presume from shock, until I notice the steaming droplet of saliva on my knuckle. I try to wipe it off but the tingle has already spread to my fingers. Curiously, it does not smell as bad as before. I stoop to get unguent from my pack but decide to lie down. Absently I notice the animals are all regarding me watchfully. Am I dreaming? Another boil ruptures, disgorging swarms of buzzing winged tumors.
I awaken in the pen. My infected hand is now large enough to enclose my entire head. After chewing off my third fingernail, I spit out both front teeth and regard myself with their slowly opening eyes. I'm now so beautiful it hurts.
A speck swoops into view. Carter, returning. I break my arm in three places to wedge between the slats and enter the access code. The gate swings open, wrenching my arm out of its socket and then off.
"What the." The hideous pale monstrosity with spindly limbs and two grotesquely symmetrical eyes with Carter's voice rounds the outcrop, looking so stupefied that my screams shred into cackles of mirth. Then I satisfy Carter's long-held deepest desire and throw myself at him. He is reluctant at first but loosens up after a few minutes of my embrace.
Afterwards, we all head towards the winking lights of the settlement, absorbing insects, lizards, and avians en route. The world around me is so ugly, so imperfect. But it won't be for long.
Entry #971MD-033
Auto-Record Mode Activated
What were we thinking? Like I don't know. I know exactly what - who - I was thinking about. "Let's take a joyride," she said. "What could happen?" Oh, I don't know, friends, how about getting lost in a labyrinth of Strain-infested tunnels with no hope of rescue or even any hope of being found if you actually stave off infection and disease. I don't even know where my sister ended up, and we've always had sort of a link. Like, I know how she's feeling, she knows how I'm feeling...but it's like she's not even there. What's happening in this place, anyway?
And why in hell did I ride a cryo pod all the way down here like some kind of Draken shock trooper? Stupid, Trilius. So. Stupid.
Entry #971MD-035
Last recording didn't work. This equipment - something's gotten into it. Can machines get sick? I think my datachron is broken. It can't tell me where I am, and I'm definitely lost. I can't find the others, either. "Oh, just scan for our transponders, Trilius," they said. Well what happens when your datachron breaks, geniuses?
Entry #971MD-038
Shouldn't have tried to crack the da - ron open, I think s - ata may - been lost. Not feeling so good myself. Only been half-hour since la - since la - since landing. Itching. Skin hurts. W - cryo pod sealed cor - ec - ly? Can't say. Need help. I wa - go home.
Grimvault Expedition of Discovery
Day 21
Although it seems clear to even a casual observer, I cannot stress this enough - the current Grimvault, the disease-infested universe of corruption and Strain, was not designed with anything like this in mind. The Eldan did not leave this place like this. They wanted the Strain confined, and Grimvault itself was more of buffer zone. Now the buffer zone is filled with Strain, and it's only getting worse. All technology in this area, while Eldan and therefore mysterious and strange, nevertheless served a purpose, one the Eldan took with them when they disappeared. Now that technology has been compromised by the techno-phage.
Grimvault Expedition of Discovery
Day 22
Although this Ethereal Cavity resembles a natural formation, I'm beginning to think nothing in this Grimvault is natural. It is completely saturated with corruption, and this underground network is no exception. What purpose did this corrupted complex serve? Was it, as some have hypothesized, the site of the Eldan's downfall? I must dig deeper.
Grimvault Expedition of Discovery
Day 23
Dead. Most of them in the latest attack. The corruption all around us - it is coming to life. The Strain... it thinks. Walks, talks, and fights. It is intelligent. And it hates us.
It walked, it roared, it snarled, it killed. It wants me...us. It is not just a substance. It is thinking. It wants. It needs.
It kills. It wants me to kill. It wants me to join it. They want me to join them. I... we... will join them.
We will kill.
MEDICAL OFFICER'S LOG
Chief Medical Officer Cartright Recording
- Entry 0381
Several strange new cases today. Several crewmembers showing signs of a respiratory infection, but I can't find a cause - not yet. I've taken samples from those who have checked in with me, however, and hope to have some facts to work with soon. In the meantime I've asked the commander to send me anyone who complains of a fever, cough, or...well, anything, really. Until I can pinpoint what's causing this, anything could be the culprit.
One thing that does worry me, though. Not one of the Black Hoods onboard has checked in with me, and the Widow is diverting all of my messages because I'm not "need to know." Damn it, I'm the top doctor on this ship. If I don't "need to know" whether the crew is coming down with a contagious illness, then who the hell does?
[DATA LOSS DETECTED. SHOWING NEXT AVAILABLE ENTRY.]
- Entry 0387
Ten more cases today. That brings the total number of crew that are in quarantine to thirty- seven, and I expect more before the end of the shift. I've informed the commander of the situation, and my best estimates on how it will affect the ship's performance.
Unfortunately, nothing I've tried seems able to fight this pernicious infection. My earliest patients are nearly comatose, despite my best efforts. Hell, it may not even be an infection. It has properties of a typical infectious agent, but it seems to have...well, intent for lack of a better term. I know that sounds crazy, but look at the officers this thing has hit so far. Communications chief, right when our comm station needs repair. The first officer, who's been serving on board the Widowmaker even longer than the commander. Our chief engineer just came in today complaining of a headache. Sure, there are several lower ranking crew too, but I know if I were infiltrating the ship...
[DATA LOSS DETECTED. SHOWING NEXT AVAILABLE ENTRY.]
- Entry 0381
Unbelievable! Of all the arrogant - I just learned the Black Hoods have been experimenting - ON THIS SHIP - with samples of some "Strain" they retrieved from Grimvault. And considering the state of my patients, I feel safe in saying this infection I've been dealing with IS the Strain. It resists every non-lethal method of curing it that I try, and I've already lost a dozen people to this thing. We've had to incinerate the corpses - can't airlock them, they might make it back to the planet and land in the middle of a population center.
This isn't going to get better before it gets worse. The commander is still standing, but he and I are the only remaining senior officers uninfected. He's concerned about weapons readings coming from the surface - in Grimvault, in fact - but he's losing sight of the disaster directly under our noses.
If it comes down to it, I have the authority to order this ship to self-destruct. I will do it, if I have to. And that day may come soon...but I hope to stars it doesn't.
Black Hood Agent XK1182 Reporting
Current Assignment: Med Tech, Widowmaker
Specialization: Medical Experimentation
ENTRY 903
DECRYPTION ENABLED
Samples of the infectious agent designated STRN01X securely brought onboard under secure conditions. No contamination of air, water, or food supplies detected. Appropriate test subjects found among existing med bay patients. Experimentation approved.
ENTRY 904
DECRYPTION ENABLED
Status of experimental subjects rapidly declining. Infectious agent STRN01X appears to work very quickly. Unfortunately, efforts to retard or reverse the symptoms of infection have failed. At this time, infection of additional patients within the med bay is considered highly likely. Staff has been reminded to follow all safety procedures when working with all patients. Awaiting orders regarding containment. Recommend eliminating all test subjects and potentially infected individuals before agent STRN01X spread beyond the med bay.
ENTRY 905
DECRYPTION ENABLED
I do not understand why we have not been granted permission to stop this experiment! The infection has clearly spread beyond the med bay. Doctor Cartright has noticed something as well. Without further instruction from the Widow, I feel I have no choice but to inform him of what's been going on. It may not be too late to stop this madness.
ENTRY 906
DECRYPTION ENABLED
Emergency! Emergency! If you are receiving this transmission, avoid the Widowmaker at all costs! The ship is infested with the Strain, and instruments detect we are being targeted by weapons on the surface of Nexus. MASSIVE weapons.
I am using Black Hoods doomsday fail-safes to lock down all escape pods. No one leaves this ship to spread the Strain to the greater galaxy.
I just hope that Eldan cannon does a thorough job. Exiles, it has been an honor to serve.
Agent XK1182 out.
Dearest Father,
I trust this letter finds its way to you in Illium with a minimum of trouble, and that you are well. I have sent along what pay I've gotten from the legion so far. With luck, it'll keep y'from falling destitute, so it will. I know it's been rough since we lost Mother and my sisters in the Hycrest plague, but we Smythes have never given up before, and we aren't going to give up now, right? Just do me a favor and try not to spend it all on spirits. I worry about you, Dad.
No need for alarm, but I should tell you we've run into a spot o' bother out here a place called the Grimvault, but you shouldn't worry, no sir. You know Commander Antevian's the finest soldier in all the Dominion, so he is, and we'd all follow him to hell and back. It's inspiring to serve a man like the Radiant Star, and it gives one the feeling that anything is possible - even defeating this blasted and intractable foe, including this Strain business. It's a nasty and foul enemy, and it's everywhere. But we have the brightest minds in all the Collegium working on a solution, and until then we'll just keep fighting them as best we can.
There is not much more I am able to report. I wouldn't want to give away objectives or operational secrets. But father, you have to trust what I say. We ARE going to win this. We will take the Grimvault and the secrets of the Eldan we've all fought so hard for. And nothing - not the Exiles, not the Strain, not even these bizarre, thinking Strain beings called Skurge are going to stop us!
Your son,
Private Caelon Smythe
ICI Agent ZL2291 Reporting
Current Assignment: Security Forces, Fist of Azrion
Specialization: Medical Experimentation
ENTRY 309
DECRYPTION ENABLED
Samples of the infectious agent designated STRN10Z securely brought onboard under secure conditions. No contamination of air, water, or food supplies detected. Appropriate test subjects found among existing med bay patients. Experimentation approved.
ENTRY 310
DECRYPTION ENABLED
Status of experimental subjects rapidly declining. Infectious agent STRN10Z appears to work very quickly. Unfortunately, efforts to retard or reverse the symptoms of infection have failed. At this time, infection of additional patients within the med bay is considered highly likely. Staff has been reminded to follow all safety procedures when working with all patients. Awaiting orders regarding containment. Recommend eliminating all test subjects and potentially infected individuals before agent STRN10Z spread beyond the med bay.
ENTRY 311
DECRYPTION ENABLED
I do not understand why we have not been granted permission to stop this experiment! The infection has clearly spread beyond the med bay. Doctor Vetaxian has noticed something as well. Without further instruction from Axis Pheydra, I feel I have no choice but to inform her of what's been going on. It may not be too late to stop this madness.
ENTRY 906
DECRYPTION ENABLED
Emergency! Emergency! If you are receiving this transmission, avoid the Fist of Azrion at all costs! The ship is infested with the Strain, and instruments detect we are being targeted by weapons on the surface of Nexus. MASSIVE weapons.
I am using ICI doomsday fail-safes to lock down all escape pods. No one leaves this ship to spread the Strain to the greater galaxy.
I just hope that Eldan cannon does a thorough job. My fellow citizens, it has been an honor to serve.
Agent ZL2291 signing off.
CAPTAIN'S LOG
Captain Sabes Recording
- Entry 002237
Several strange new cases reported by the chief medic today. Crewmembers with signs of a respiratory infection, but no cause she can find. She's taken samples from those who have checked in, however, and hopes to have some facts to work with soon. She's asked me to send her anyone who complains of an unexplained fever, cough, or nausea.
Until Doctor Vetaxian can pinpoint what's causing this, anything could be the culprit.
One thing that does concern me. I know damn well the ICI has agents stationed onboard - but Axis Pheydra herself is personally diverting my official requests about their business here because I'm not "need to know." Blast it, I'm the captain of this ship. If I don't "need to know" whether the crew is coming down with a contagious illness, who does?
[DATA LOSS DETECTED. SHOWING NEXT AVAILABLE ENTRY.]
- Entry 002242
Ten more cases today. That brings the total number of crew that are in quarantine to thirty-seven, and I expect more before the end of the day. Doctor Vetaxian doesn't believe this will affect the ship's performance. Considering my first officer, our chief engineer, and the commander of security is in med bay suffering from this strange disease, I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm starting to feel...well. It is no matter. I have a ship to command. Let this disease try to come after me. Let every traitor and foul alien wretch in the galaxy try to infiltrate the Fist of Azrion. They will fail!
Though...why would I say that? There is no infiltration. Just an illness. And the ICI.
Always the ICI. Watching. I must insist Axis Pheydra returns my messages. If she knows anything about this...
[DATA LOSS DETECTED. SHOWING NEXT AVAILABLE ENTRY.]
- Entry 002298
Unbelievable! Of all the arrogant - I just learned the ICI has been experimenting - ON MY SHIP - with samples of some "Strain" they retrieved from Grimvault. And considering the state of my crew, I do not doubt this infection IS the Strain. I can feel it in my...in my blood. We've had to incinerate the corpses. Airlocking them would only risk spreading this infection to the surface. And the effect on morale, well...would not be good.
Damn it all! I'm reading weapons locks coming from the surface - from Grimvault, in fact. No time for evasive maneuvers, not that the Fist of Azrion is all that nimble anyway. But I will not allow this ship to come down in a populated area.
I have the authority to order this ship to self-destruct. And that time may well be now.
So why does the voice...the voice in my blood...why does it tell me it is not?
Satori's Rowsdowarium and Distillery
Thayd, Galeras
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RowsPower Vitamin Supplements for Rowsdowers (500 suppositories).....22g99c
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RowsDowny Fur Conditioner and Horn Polish (12 bottles).....11s99c
RowsDrowner Hydration System (12 syringes).....88s99c
Brainsdower Smart Drugs for Rowsdowers - Novelty purposes only (99 bottles).....110g99s99c
RowsDrinker-brand Primal Liquor -- Not Just for Rowsdowers! (3 cases).....112g99s99c
Thank you for shopping at Satori's Rowsdowarium and Distillery. Come for the rowsdowers - stay for the complimentary liquor!
SplorgSmart!
Illium
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SplorgLuv Splorg Kibble (10 buckets).....29s99c
SplorgLuv Vitamin Supplements for Splorg (50 suppositories).....14g99c
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SplorgSoft Splorg Lotion for Dry Splorg (3 bottles).....11s99c
HydroSplorg Splorg Hydrator (12 syringes).....3g99s99c
SplorgSmart-brand SmartSplorg Intelligence Flakes - Entertainment Use Only (99 bottles).....209g99s99c
Thank you for shopping with SplorgSmart. SplorgSmart - for Smart Splorg-Lovers Everywhere!
Jariel: The Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
As we near the first phase of the Nexus Project, I recently called an assembly of the Orders. I thought that it was important to once again convey the gravity of what we are trying to accomplish here. I told them that this is no longer about science or technology. Our work on this planet is something greater. It is something truly divine.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My recent studies on this planet have reminded me of the relative fragility of biological life. Prone to mutation, degradation, and disease, it is a wonder that life has proliferated throughout the galaxy. Of course, we now have the power to cure disease and correct harmful mutations in any organism. And if we are successful here on Nexus, we will never have to worry about such trivialities again.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have recently finished the design for the six Primal Focuses that will be located at various locations across planet Nexus. These will be essential to completing the first phase of the Project, but I foresee other, more interesting applications for them as well. I am not one to sing my own praises, but these devices are some of the most advanced pieces of technology that the Eldan have ever created.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Each time I observe these humans, I am surprised at their continued devotion to Vitara. As a species, their need for something to worship defines them - which, of course, is why they were selected in the first place. But if our efforts with the Genesis Prime are successful, there will soon be an altogether different god for them to serve.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
This is truly an exciting time! I have been tasked with observing and training Drusera - the Genesis Prime. Because her innate powers of creation are facilitated through an advanced form of evocation, it was only logical that one of the Evokers would be responsible for helping her reach her true potential.
I have only met her once, and she is indeed a remarkable creature. Blessed with intelligence, beauty, innocence, and virtually unlimited power, she is unquestionably the Eldan's greatest accomplishment.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Drusera's training is proceeding incredibly well, and she has already grasped the most advanced disciplines in evocation seemingly without effort. It is almost as if she were born with the inherent knowledge, as if the six were somehow instructing her subconsciously. Of course, Vorion has told me that this is impossible given the technicalities of her creation. But still, I feel as if something... unusual is happening within her mind.
For my part, I find myself becoming increasingly fond of her. She confronts her new existence with a sense of expectation and wonder, despite the oppressive surroundings of this facility. I can find no flaw in her, no malice or pettiness. She is indeed perfect in every way.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
As Elyona trains and observes Drusera, I have been working with the Pell to prepare for the next phase of her development. We have designed this region to serve as her sanctuary on the planet's surface, different in every way from the cold, scientific environment in which she has been confined below. These Pell have been ordered to serve and protect her with their lives, a duty that I am certain they will faithfully execute until they are instructed otherwise.
To this point, I have avoided interacting with Drusera, despite Elyona's assurances that she is indeed everything that we had hoped she would be. I cannot say exactly why. Perhaps there is always fear when faced with the true expression of one's deepest desires.
Drusera: The Genesis Prime
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My Eldan creators have asked me to record some of my thoughts during my training, in order to better evaluate my overall development. They have explained very clearly just how important I am to them, and so I am happy to do this.
Today was incredible! For the first time, I was allowed on the surface of the planet, and saw the endless expanse of the sky. It was breathtaking. And then, with Elyona's help, I was able to manifest a tree using only the power of my mind! It was only a sapling, just a small and fragile thing, but Elyona said to me that it represented the greatest event in all of recorded time. I was so proud! I can't wait to continue my studies.
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It is done. With the help of my knowledgeable ally, I have made the necessary adjustments to the Protoplasmic Resonator. I have been assured that Vorion will not notice until after the process is complete, and by then, of course, it will no longer matter.
Will the others understand? To be honest, I couldn't possibly care less. The stakes of this game were too high. Did anyone truly expect me to sit back and play by the rules?
Drusera: The Genesis Prime
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Oh! I am absolutely overcome with joy! Today, with Elyona's help and encouragement, I was able to create a living, breathing organism! It was so exhilarating! I closed my eyes, envisioned the entire creature in my mind, and then, when I opened my eyes...there it was, standing in front of me! It was the most wondrous thing I have ever seen, a beautiful bird with shining golden feathers. Maybe the Eldan are right. Maybe I really can do anything...
Vorion: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My analysis of the scientific data collected during the creation of the Genesis Prime has brought to light a number of inconsistencies that are both subtle and disturbing. Although Drusera herself seems to be without obvious flaw, the data indicates that certain design parameters were adjusted without my knowledge, just before the initiation of the Protoplasmic Resonator. I am attempting to ascertain the possible ramifications of such an adjustment, but the variables involved are improbably complex. I can only hope that this development will not have negative consequences.
Grimvault Investigation Day 031
Can it truly be a month since we launched this ill-fated enterprise?
There is nothing living here in the Grimvault, at least not as we know life. There is movement here, murder and gore being spread by the tentacles and tendrils of something raw and evil. Beasts of corrupt origin spit forth from foul spawning grounds and the eyes....
The eyes. Watching. Always and forever, watching. They are everywhere. Watching from the stalks, watching from the grasping fingers of the great one who watches over all. The Entity which no living thing can know, not if that living thing wants to survive.
I have no way of knowing this. Yet I do. The Medics on our expedition believe I am showing signs of stress. They say I may break. Someone else should take over.
I fear our Medics may be lost to the Entity. Perhaps they will have to die.
Grimvault Investigation Day 032
The Medics attempted to ply their foul potions on my form today. This will not be allowed, must not be allowed to happen. I cannot allow it. If I do, he will be... displeased.
When the Entity is displeased, he eats. Eats lives. Eats souls. Swallows them whole.
We have lost six since yesterday. No one who will be missed. Guard. Porters. An apprentice. I should miss the apprentice, but I will not. I should honor the guards, but I cannot.
What is happening to me?
Grimvault Investigation Day 037
Yes. I can...speak into. This. Thing. I can...speak. I will...speak. The song of the Strain is mine to hear, now. It calls. I speak in reply. I speak.
Speak to me, lord of the Skurge, defiler of worlds. Speak to me with blood and disease. Death and corruption. The Strain.
It is all one. And we, we foolish small mortals with our foolish, small wars. We. Are going to. Die.
[This Chua's datachron has been set to distress mode, but the emergency transmitter switch is stuck in the off position by an unfortunately placed glob of honey. You are no doubt the first to read his final tragic message.]
Calling High Lord Mucky Muck Malvolio Portius! Hellooooooo! This Tizgo Gopp, in command of Firestorm expedition to go find you some STUPID HONEY for your STUPID TEA! Got news for Your Royal Fancypantsness - honey in this area already spoken for by bees. BEES the size of SHUTTLES! You ever hear of buzzbings, Baron Von Stuck-Uppington? No? Me neither! Not until Tizgo and crack team of Firestorm Scouts got sent on ridiculous mission to collect tea-sweetener!
Sure, there are regular bees here. Ordinary kind, only as big as Tizgo's thumbs. But they're just the babies!
Anyhoo, Tizgo has been stung about seven hundred times so far. Can't feel pain anymore. Mouth only thing moving... and... not easy. So good job... Duke... Dumb-face. Killed us for... tea.
Hope... you choke... on... your... tea.
Status Report OS32975X32
ATTN: The Zax
DRED Operative Zungo Gopp Reporting
Status report to Director Zax: Status is dire! The Zax was smart, very smart, to contact Zungo after Zungo's brother Tizgo killed by bees in Everstar Grove. Gopp brothers know bees! But Zungo never seen bees like these buzzbings!
Knew they were huge. Planned for that. Brought lots of guards. Lots of weapons. Best science available. And buzzbing weaponization formula worked perfectly during trials.
Who knew buzzbings mutate at such a stupidly fast rate?
Formula worked all right. Bonerazer test subjects reacted as expected, with the dying and the hurting and the sometimes exploding. Then formula started to change buzzbings. Instead of just stinging enemies, started emitting venom in gaseous form. Team wasn't ready. No antitoxin equipment. Formula was supposed to make buzzbings fight Exiles? Buzzbings fighting everyone and poisoning everything!
Zungo has to admit this is pretty cozmotronic. But Zungo also has to admit Zungo got stung right through the chest. Really hurts. But also kind of blissful.
Note to the Zax: Weaponizing dazeroot buzzbing might be stupid. Turn venom into low-grade narcotic instead. Market to Exiles. Win-win!
Okay, Zungo dying now. For science!
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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I am delighted to have discovered another specimen of this extraordinary tree. There is really nothing like it on this planet. Coursing with such pure energy, it is a living manifestation of the power of primal life itself. I cannot imagine that any source of blight or disease could ever cause it harm.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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In light of the recently defined parameters for the creation of the Genesis Prime, we must now choose six candidates from among the Orders who will serve as its vessels. This decision may indeed be the most vital in the history of our entire species. If the Genesis Prime is to be our greatest achievement, these individuals must represent our most innovative and brilliant minds. Not surprisingly, the Watchers have been tasked with making this decision.
Aviel: Order of the Weavers
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Hmmm. These elemental creatures have developed an unusual interest in one of their own kind - a powerful individual that lives beneath the waters. In most organisms, I would not find such behavior anomalous, but I generally consider elementals to be primitive life forms at best. That these should display such advanced societal behaviors makes them special - and pleasantly dangerous.
Jariel: The Archon
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The Luminai Project is finally complete. By extracting the primal pattern of the human Tresayne Toria, and combining it with my own, we have created a completely unique hybrid that represents the best parts of both species. This individual, which we have named Dominus, will soon travel to planet Cassus, where he will establish a powerful galactic Dominion that we will control.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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At first I was hesitant about accepting the Archon's proposal, but the longer I consider its implications, the more confident I am that I made the right choice. Vorion has been very explicit about the fact that the consciousness of each individual vessel will be fused into the more powerful and collective consciousness of the Genesis Prime, and I think that my presence among the six lends a certain stability to the process. It has always been the responsibility of the Watchers to impose Order upon the chaos. Once I have been made a part of the Genesis Prime, perhaps I will, however unconsciously, continue to do so.
Jariel: The Archon
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The construction of the Elder Cube security facility is almost complete. Given the incalculable value of the data that it contains, this facility has been built to protect the device in the case of a security breach at Star-Comm Station. I have also requested that the access to the complex below be extremely limited. Only myself and a few others will even know where the entrance is hidden.
Ionis: Order of the Watchers
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It has come to my attention that the Elder Cube was engineered with a low-level neural matrix, imbuing it with simple cognitive capabilities. This allows it to make simple decisions as they relate to its own security, but it also has another unexpected result. Lower-level life forms, such as our servants the Pell, could possibly be influenced or even controlled by the Cube itself if left too long in its presence. I will raise my concerns to the Archon - but I fear that at this stage of the Project, they will more than likely be ignored.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
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As a final precaution, I have installed a neural transfer algorithm into the Elder Cube. This will allow it to choose an acceptable organic host, and then download the totality of its information into the host's brain. In the case of a catastrophic event on Nexus, this might be the only way that the truth of what we are about to achieve is preserved.
The Caretaker
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The Progenitors have asked me to analyze a small organism that has become infected with what they are calling "an unidentified biological agent". Although I have yet to complete my full analysis, I can say with certainty that it is resembles nothing in the Eldan's vast archive of collected knowledge, which includes more than a billion surveyed worlds. It is quite fascinating, really. And unbelievably deadly.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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The Progenitors have explained in detail the dangers of this biological infestation that they now call the Strain. Although they have assured us that the danger to the Project is quite negligible, their tone and their lack of stated solutions seems to indicate otherwise. I understand that this stems from an isolated incident, but I have strong feelings that this issue is far from resolved.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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My research concerning this biological anomaly designated "the Strain" has now come to a close, and the results are quite disturbing. Spreading through a virulent agent we have called the bio-phage, it has the ability to infect and transform any biological organism that it comes in contact with. I have never witnessed anything like it, nor have I been able to create an effective defense against the disease. There appears to be nothing we can do to stop it.
Xarophet: Order of the Makers
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The day has finally come. As my mentor Maker Vorion will be otherwise engaged in monitoring the other technological processes required for the termination of the Entity, I have been entrusted with initiating the Primal Disintegrator. Vorion reiterated to me that I should consider this an honor, but I must admit a certain trepidation given the recent... difficulties that we have experienced in controlling the subject.
Xarophet: Order of the Makers
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Although Vorion recommended against it, I recently had a discussion with the Genesis Prime, I mean Drusera, about the upcoming procedure and my fears about its chances for failure. She told me that she was well aware of the dangers that the Entity represented, and that she would do everything in her power to ensure our success. Despite the circumstances, I couldn't help but take comfort in her well-meaning words - but they will not make my task any less difficult.
Xarophet: Order of the Makers
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Subject has been sedated. Vitals signs are stable. Prepare for termination protocols. Initiating Primal Disintegrator in three, two, one. What? Oh no! Subject has broken loose! Defense perimeter breached! Arrrggghh!!! No, please! Nooooo!!!
Nazrek: Order of the Progenitors
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I often come here to observe the OS-1s and their ruthless games, facing off against one another to test their skills and savagery. It is quite a spectacle. The roaring crowds. The blood. The intense drama of combatants fighting to the death. It is quite relaxing, really. I cannot think of anything here on Nexus that I enjoy more.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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We have constructed this facility beneath the OS-1's city in order to better observe their development. The Archon has also requested that I begin advanced designs for their weapons and armor, as well as for devices that will allow them to control our constructs in combat situations. Although this facility is completely secure, I do have concerns about what might happen if they somehow obtain this knowledge before we deem them ready.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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I have heard rumblings among the OS-1 that they have discovered the secret to forging exanite, and given their recent technological advancements it just might be true. We must control this situation immediately! If they indeed can manipulate the powerful substance, and if they were to gain access to our facility below, they might create weapons and armor that would make them extremely dangerous and impossible to control. This must never be allowed to happen.
Jariel: the Archon
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As the Nexus Project continues, we have begun experimenting with more advanced techniques to test the capabilities of our creations. With this in mind, Vorion has developed a device that presents the subject with a series of trials, and becomes more powerful as each one is completed. He is calling this device "the Gauntlet." I assured him that the double meaning was not lost on me.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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I do not wish to alarm the others, but I have begun to observe what I can only describe as... unusual behaviors in Drusera. I have been pushing her very hard in our most recent lessons, and I hope that these episodes are merely cerebral anomalies brought about by stress. I will keep these observations to myself for now. I would hate to burden the others with what I am hopeful will turn out to be baseless concerns.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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I have begun a focused analysis of exanite. Using this installation, I have exposed the substance to highly charged energetic fields, and the results have been remarkable. It appears that at certain resonant frequencies the substance repels disease and other virulent biological agents. Given the recent... difficulties we have been experiencing, this knowledge could become very useful.
Koral: Order of the Shapers
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I know the others are working diligently to contain the Entity and the dangers it now presents, but it seems my greatest fears about the Nexus Project may have finally come to pass. Perhaps this is merely what we deserve for our hubris. Still, we must do what we can. Maker Vorion has asked me to disassemble the control mechanisms for this Primal Focus. It was a vital component in the creation of the Genesis Prime - but it could serve a more insidious purpose if we cannot contain the Entity.
Vorion: Order of the Makers
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I am extremely concerned about these latest developments. This... Entity... has put the entire Nexus Project at risk. Technologically, there seems nothing that I can do to contain it, and it is only a matter of time before it becomes a danger not just to the successful completion of the Nexus Project, but to our continued existence on this planet. I fear that dire measures will soon be necessary. I can only hope that it is not too late.
The Caretaker
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I have completed my analysis of the imminent proposed annihilation protocols for the Entity, and I must say that I am less than confident that they will result in success. This Entity is indeed powerful, and I am not quite certain that the Eldan, and by extension myself, are sufficiently advanced to destroy him. When I mentioned this to Maker Vorion, he merely replied that despite the statistical improbabilities, the universe was owed at least the effort to save it from oblivion.
Elyona: Order of the Evokers
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We are now making preparations for the Entity's destruction. I do not have the words to describe how I feel. Everything we've done. All we've worked for. I can only hope that we can stop it before all is lost. And Drusera? By the ancient gods of Orias. I cannot bring myself to look into her eyes...
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
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The time has come. All preparations have been made for the destruction of the Entity, and Vorion seems confident that we have at least some chance of success. I can only hope that he is right. Drusera, not surprisingly, is frightened, and desperately wishes that she could be of more help. As do we all. Blessed with all of that power, and yet she is still powerless to do anything at all.
Drusera: The Genesis Prime
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Oh, no. I... I... I couldn't do it. Couldn't save them. I wasn't strong enough. But there's still time. I can still stop it. The Entity... it doesn't think I have the power to do it, but I do. I can do anything. I can lock it away... maybe not forever... but long enough for someone to come here. Someone strong. Someone that can help me. And then, just maybe, I can make all of this right.
Ohmna: Leaders and Scions
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Despite being near the completion of our great work here on Nexus, Vorion continues to develop technology to improve the inherent flaws in lesser organisms. His latest work, which he calls Project Legacy, uses an advanced prototype weapon to test the physical and mental capabilities those who wield it, allowing us to ascertain the strongest and most capable individuals in the galaxy. Arming such individuals with our technology does pose certain risks, but only in the unlikely scenario that something catastrophic were to befall us here.
Expedition Day 7
The infestation is dire. It spreads quickly and envelops all around it, twisting creatures, contorting them into ravenous monstrosities. Last week a large grazer buck was bitten by a corrupted garr. Now, green spittle flows freely from the buck's maw and bulbous sacs of pus protrude from its body, violently popping every so often. Most animals keep a good distance from the Strain, but it has overtaken the area's prime food and water sources, leaving wildlife little choice but to risk contamination.
Expedition Day 8
Confound it! Last night a varmint sneaked into camp and coated all of my materials in muck before I chased it away. I cleaned up as delicately as I could, but nevertheless managed to wipe some of the filth onto my brow. Already the bio-phage is taking hold. Odd bumps dot my face and my skin seems to be hardening into some kind of shell. I also feel strong, able to lift great weights with ease. I must work quickly to finish my latest antidote formula, though it shall likely be my last.
[The text on the next page resembles haphazard scratches, each letter varying greatly in size and shape]
Expedition Day ???
My spine has become twisted and my limbs elongated. I fight back urges to kill, but that compulsion grows stronger. I feel I am fading away. I can no longer remember the name of my wife. My children. May they never suffer this fate.
[The rest of the journal is nothing but smudges of green and orange. Indecipherable scribbles are strewn erratically about the journal. There are no further entries.]
[The final dictated diary entry of an unfortunate explorer has a singular focus, and is burned onto the broken, blood-encrusted screen.]
MY LEGS! Oh gods it hurts it hurts it HUUURTS why did I ever try that jump? Why did I think it was a good idea to - oh gods is that bone poking through the skin? And is that my - sitting on top of my - oh gods, it is. GYAAARGH! The pain the pain the PAIN why the stars did I come to this gods-forsaken planet in the first place?
Okay just - just calm down. Medishot... numbing pain enough... to talk. Legs... shattered. My attempt to reach the heart of the Sanctuary... doomed to fail. If you are reading this, turn back. TURN BACK before you take one lousy STINKING MISSTEP and plummet to the floor of this hellscape of a - oh stars the pain's coming back. Too much to concentrate. Must reach... medishots. Belt. Where's my belt. Oh, it's on my - with the - oh no. Hey! Get away from that! I need it! Well... I will need it. If I can - why are you looking at me like that? Oh gods. Your eyes. Why are they like that? Please, I need help. Don't - please, no - not my legs. Not my legs! What are you - don't eat that! Gods - nerves must be - totally severed - or pain would be oh NO GODS NO THOSE ONES AREN'T SEVERED gyagharghGODS ALMIGHTY the chewing the chewing oh gods OH GODS HELP ME the horrible chewing and crunching and GYAAAAAAAAGHHHH -
[The remainder of the screen is filled with the autorecord AI's valiant attempts to write out the agonized sounds.]
- FIRST DRAFT -
Property of Dr. Harkov Zelvic
May not be reproduced without the express consent of Dr. Harkov Zelvic
"Dr. Harkov Zelvic" is a trademark of Dr. Harkov Illic Markev Dakor Kizkov Zelvic
All Rights Reserved
NATURE OF THE INFECTION
The nanobiotic nature of the highly adaptable infection known colloquially as "corruption" appears to allow it to spread at an even more alarming rate in hive-mind species of insectoids. The rapid infectiousness of this bio-phage displays similar behavior to the techno-phage which affects mechanical beings such as constructs, bots, even Mechari. And just as the techno-phage spreads incredibly quickly by hijacking communications signals between mechanicals, it appears a mild form of latent telepathy in the hive-mind insectoid species of Nexus allows the bio-phage to do the same.
OBSERVED BEHAVIOR
Although "ordinary" Strain-corrupted creatures are generally mindless and aggressive, with little in the way of coordinated strategies, both hive-mind insectoids and mechanicals continue to display unexpected cunning and intelligence - fighting together, planning complex attacks, and even protecting their area of influence in the same way an army would protect its flanks.
POTENTIAL TREATMENT
At this time, there is no known or accepted treatment for the so-called "Strain" corruption on the planet Nexus, unless one considers extermination a form of treatment. The Strain, which displays clear signs of hive sentience, conclusively spreads more quickly among beings with hive-mind intelligence, be it biological or mechanical. If we can document the principles behind corruption's heightened infection rates within such populations, interrupting these signals could profoundly slow the rapid onslaught of the disease and might even be used to reverse the effects. Even if infected creatures cannot be saved, this resistance must be studied if the Strain is ever to be defeated once and for all.
RECOMMENDED DISPOSAL
Complete and total incineration still appears to be the best way to deal with the remains of experimental subjects or encroaching corrupted insectoid hives.
The Goddess speaks through the abundant life here, as she speaks to us everywhere on this world. And here, in this sacred place, the Sanctuary itself calls to me. It is a song that carries on the warm, gentle winds of summer, a song that hums beneath the babbling of the running stream, a song I hear in the cry of every bird, every predator, every tree, every living thing I can see and many that I, Rayna Darkspeaker, cannot.
The Sanctuary's song has long spoken to me, as it speaks to all of us. But of late, I hear things the others do not. I fear my sisters do not let themselves hear these notes of the song, either because they are not as attuned to its sound as I am - or perhaps because they choose not to believe these dark sounds could be part of the great web of life with which the Goddess blesses us.
I have thought long and hard about this. I have listened to the song of the Sanctuary for days on end, sharpening my focus until the gentle, healing notes are a dim sound. Now, all I hear is a deep undercurrent of anger and despair. What is it that cries out to me so? And why can the others not hear? Or worse - why do they lie about what they DO hear?
There can be only one reason. They do hear it. They know this forest suffers, they know the Sanctuary hides its pain within gentle sounds and healing power. But I know it is there. And I will do something about it even if they will not.
There can be no healing with suffering. I will burn away this darkness and cleanse the Sanctuary. I will restore the song of the Goddess, even though it will cause pain before all is said and done.
If my sisters will not help me, they are lost. And they will burn with the rest.
Eyes. Eyes everywhere. Eyes on the ground. On the trees. Eyes growing from the walls and cliffs and the caverns and the doomed, corrupted beasts of the wild.
But when I turn to strike out their hideous light? To plunge my blade deep into their damnable gaze? They are gone! Sunken back into the earth, or closed to the bright light of my holy sword. The Goddess keeps me safe, the Goddess keeps me strong.
And yet. My pumera was unsteady and weak. For days now, my constant companion, a cub who had known me my entire life, had eaten little, growing thin and wiry. Her fur had begun to fall out in patches, while cankers and boils appeared where the hair was gone. I feared for her. I prayed to the Goddess to help her.
The Goddess did nothing for my pumera. She did not keep my companion safe, did not keep her strong. And as I watched the creature that trusted me suffer more and more, suffer to the point where she lashed out, even at me, I saw it.
The boils and cankers were not boils and cankers at all. And as they blinked open, their terrible yellow orbs knew my very soul, and I did not hear the Goddess again.
I drove my blade through the largest of the eyes, transfixing the howling beast. She did not die right away. Over and over I had to strike, until the eyes were a ruined mess of gore and rot. But my friend suffers no more.
Yet still the eyes are all around me. I cannot put them all out, not if I had all the time in the world. Do I even want to? My pumera suffered and died, but what if it was being reborn into something new?
What if I, too, will be reborn? What if these wounds on my arms and legs are... yes. Yes.
I am being watched. But I do not fear the eyes. They watch over me now, as the Goddess once did. The Goddess who betrayed me, and betrayed my pumera. She made us weak. The Strain will make us strong. Stronger. Better. Deadlier. Victorious.
DAY 5
I have tracked the beast to its lair, at great personal cost. My sisters believe me to be obsessed, and I cannot say they are wrong. I am obsessed, but with good reason. This monstrous creature, this Ravager, is unrelenting. And so must I be to hunt it down and end its depredations once and for all.
I did not start this hunt alone. Two of my sisters were at my side, as were our stalking beasts. Our pets were bold, but not stupid. They soon began to resist us, sensing what we could not: this Ravager was no ordinary monster. Perhaps we should have heeded their unspoken demands, and turned back. If we had, my sisters and our pets would still be with me. But the infection set in soon after they started acting up, and indeed even then it was probably too late. If I hadn't severed my own arm above the elbow, I would have been lost too.
I gave them a merciful death. But they deserved better than to die in such agony. And so I swear I will not stand down. Though I have but one sword-arm, I will use it to strike the Ravager of Moldwood down, and soon.
It must be soon. For even now, I hear the beast calling to me through the remnants of infection in my blood. And its voice grows clearer.
Yes, today I kill two monsters. First, the Ravager. And then I will fall on my own blade. Goddess save me, it is the only way. I am sorry, Blademother. I am sorry.
[This free verse work appears to be the work of a long-dead Lifeweaver Pell mystic, written long before they became corrupted.]
Living world of sun of sky
Sing your songs of joy
Thriving life, burning strong
In the deep heart of this sacred sanctuary.
Loom of life and mysteries
Weave the songs of all
Into the sacred fabric
The divine web of existence.
Masters of sun and sky
Grant your Lifeweavers strength
Grant your Lifeweavers courage
Grant your Lifeweavers this song
This song of all things
For it is this song we weave into all things alive.
Tresayne Toria: Blademother of the Torine Sisterhood
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The Eldan and their infernal machines. Why I agreed to the Pell's request to record my thoughts on these datacubes, I will never know. Still, I suppose there is value in preserving the history of the Sisterhood here in our most sacred sanctuary. I will do my best not to lose patience. For almost two-thousand years, I, Tresayne Toria, have lived upon this planet. Brought here by the Eldan, and preserved by the power of the Focus of Life, these jungles have become my home. By the laws of the sword did I live my life as a Cassian Swordmaiden, and it is by those same laws that my Torine Sisters have defended the Goddess Vitara since I swore my life to her long ago. This sanctuary is holy ground to the Sisterhood, and serves to remind us of our eternal duty.
Tresayne Toria: Blademother of the Torine Sisterhood
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The Temple of Vitara. Of all the places in the sanctuary, this is perhaps the most sacred. It is here that Life-Callers take their vows before the face of the goddess, swearing to use their ancient disciplines to protect and nurture her kingdom. Because of this, no open fire has ever burned within the walls of the temple, as fire is an uncontrollable force which maims and consumes life. Anyone who would bring flame to this place - and especially one of the Sisterhood - commits an act of unspeakable heresy.
Tresayne Toria: Blademother of the Torine Sisterhood
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The duty of the Torine Sisterhood is two-fold. One, to protect the Goddess Vitara with our swords and our lives. And two, defend the kingdom of the Goddess against those who would do it harm. What many do not understand is that these two are inextricably intertwined, that the Goddess gains strength from the lifeforce of her kingdom, and her kingdom cannot thrive if the Goddess herself is weak. That is why we must not allow anything to desecrate this planet. That is why the blades of the Sisterhood must never fail.
Tresayne Toria: Blademother of the Torine Sisterhood
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These Pell have served us faithfully since the time that I arrived here, even after my son Dominus left for Cassus to rule the Dominion as its first emperor. They are very simple creatures, yet gifted with an unusual intelligence. It is easy to see why the Eldan used them as servants in their experiments here. This particular tribe serves the Grove Guardian Ondu, a powerful elemental creature who has lived here in these jungles for thousands of years. Ondu serves Vitara in his own primitive way, and the Sisterhood welcomes his presence here in the sanctuary. For my part, I sleep better knowing he watches over it. I dare not think what might happen if something were to befall him.
Tresayne Toria: Blademother of the Torine Sisterhood
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Here, in the sanctuary's inner sanctum, lies the very sword that I plunged into Vitara's eternal heart so long ago. I was young, and foolish. I did not know the true power of the beast against which I had set my blade. Only when she struck me down, and then pulled me from the realms of death did I truly understand. I swore then to serve Vitara for the rest of my days, and we of the Sisterhood have done so. But although this blade is a symbol of our commitment to the Goddess, it is not the sword that will carry us. It is deep within ourselves where true strength can be found. If the spirit is weak, then we should expect nothing more than oblivion.
==================================
Well done, Exile. Based on your general capacity for getting things done, the most powerful Exiles on the planet have called you up to the big leagues.
Secret Ops is the code name* for the Exiles' collective efforts to discover the fate of the Eldan, and learn how new discoveries on the homeworld of the ancients - Nexus - will affect our society as a whole. You will work side-by-side with Exile heroes. The secrets you uncover will be gathered, studied, and analyzed by Exile Academy of Science (XAS).
Failure is not an option. Fate is handing us one last draw, and we need to make this hand count. The very fate of all Exiles hangs in the balance. Dominion citizens believe the Eldan ascended to godhood, of course, but we're more pragmatic. Perhaps the ancients up and got bored, departing without a trace. Maybe they had other places to be.
Or is there a threat out there powerful enough to kill the most advanced species ever seen?
Unless we can answer these questions, and soon, we might have big trouble. Until we know why the Eldan did what they did, we will never know of the dangers - or advantages - their knowledge could bring us.
This world is going to be our new home. Let's make sure no one manages to tear it apart before we take over the lease. And if we find a weapon or ally strong enough to drive the Dominion back into space, you will be a hero.
Here's hoping it's a big-ass raygun.
-Professor Wellspring
*The Secret Ops Team is aware that announcing its existence makes it considerably less than "Secret," and does not need to be reminded again. It's the name approved by the committee.
==================================
Citizen-
Congratulations. Based on your bold and selfless service to the empire, the Dominion has invited you to join the inner circle.
The Enigma Chamber is the code name* for the Dominion's collective efforts to discover the fate of the Eldan, and learn how new discoveries on the homeworld of the gods - Nexus - will affect our society as a whole. You will work side-by-side with some of the most powerful and honored citizens of the Dominion. The secrets you uncover will be gathered, studied, and analyzed by the brightest minds of the empire, the scientists of the Royal Collegium.
And in the end, you will succeed. You must. The very fate of the Dominion hangs in the balance. The Eldan chose us to build the greatest empire the galaxy had ever known. Our church tells us they ascended to godhood, but, if so, why then? Did we fail them? Did they decide we needed to guide our own destinies?
Or, blasphemously, is there a threat out there powerful enough to eliminate a race of gods?
Unless we can answer these questions, and soon, we face grave danger. The Exiles will falter and fall, in time. The planet will be settled, knowledge will be found, hearts will be changed, and minds will be opened. But until we know why our gods did what they did, we will never know of the dangers - or advantages - Eldan knowledge could bring to the war effort.
-Chancellor Juro Takigurian
*Please note it is also an actual chamber, one used for planning, data collection, and sometimes as sleeping quarters.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan tower called the Stratospire has remained active for centuries, drastically altering the landscape of the Northern Wilds. Considering the complete lack of highly intelligent creatures in the area, it stands to reason it has been in operation - albeit in a malfunctioning state - since the Eldan disappeared.
The means by which raw primal energy maintains the Stratospire's systems is beyond known galactic technology, yet the crystals required to power and repair the Eldan machine are readily available nearby. The Eldan were known for manipulating the primal forces of the universe, and now we see how capable they had become.
Powerful elemental creatures of primal matter appear to gather near strong sources of primal energy on Nexus. They are enormous creatures and extremely aggressive, despite the abundance of nearby "food" for them to consume, and possess only enough intelligence to fight. The local wildlife, though themselves imbued with the effects of primal exposure, appear to give them a wide berth.
CONCLUSIONS:
The disappearance of the Eldan is the great mystery of our age, and the answer will determine who rules Nexus. Perhaps here on Nexus a great weapon lies waiting to be discovered and turned against the Dominion, or secrets that bend the laws of time, space, and energy to help the war effort.
The Stratospire, unfortunately, is not that weapon. Nor does the XAS believe it was what caused the Eldan to vanish. However, the events following the shuttle crash in the Northern Wilds prove that the Eldan routinely manipulated raw primal power on Nexus - even for what must, to them, have been a relatively simple machine. This leads the XAS to conclude simple exposure to primal power would not have been enough to cause them to vanish.
Furthermore, although they are strong and dangerous to ordinary sentients, all that we know about the Eldan suggest they would not have considered the gronyx of the Northern Wilds a threat.
In the future, it would be foolish not to monitor the Stratospire facility for the safety of Exile settlers, but it is no smoking mag pistol. Our search must continue. Algoroc or Celestion must hold more answers for us.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
The team recommends that NMEs (non-Mordesh Exiles) wear hyperthermal underspacewear when exposed to the elements in the Northern Wilds. These items - and this is important - should be worn UNDER your clothing.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
Everstar Grove provides definitive proof of the Eldan's skill at manipulating the primal foundations of life. Aurin matrias believe the sentient tree designated Elderoot to be but one of many such creations.
Elderoot also showed considerable technological modification, which may account for the ancient tree's ability to communicate with great versatility.
Considerable evidence indicated Elderoot's nanobiotic implants may not have been complete at the time of the Eldan's disappearance.
CONCLUSIONS:
The very foundations of life were playthings to the Eldan, and living technology the stuff of toys. They manipulated technology and primal forces as easily as a Granok brews a Gnoxian bitter. To find such clear evidence of the Eldan's skills still functioning, even thriving, confirms the Eldan were all they were rumored to be. They understood the fundamental components of the universe and could manipulate them in ways galactic culture was only beginning to understand. However, it is also clear the Eldan did not intend to suddenly depart the Everstar Grove, let alone the planet Nexus. Elderoot was either left incomplete on purpose, or was simply an experiment never meant to live as long as he has.
The evidence for Elderoot being an incomplete experiment is largely circumstantial, but the strongest is the rampant infestation of parasitic creatures allowed to infest the weakened tree before we discovered him. If the Eldan's nanobiotic additions were meant to strengthen or protect Elderoot from such problems, they failed to do so.
There is another possibility: the Eldan's technological additions were meant to weaken Elderoot's natural defenses. This would seem a cruel experiment to perform on a being they themselves had granted sentience, but nothing we have found in Everstar Grove points to the Eldan as a kind or beneficent species.
As to the question of the Eldan's sudden disappearance so long ago, Everstar Grove offers sparse answers and even more questions. The Eldan were prodigious manipulators of life, but exactly how was Elderoot created - and why? Furthermore, did the old tree truly know the Eldan's secrets? Can such a vast repository of living historical knowledge ever be replaced? Dr. Lazarin believes it may be possible, but many years will be required before we know for certain.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Dr. Lazarin and his team shall take the utmost care with and show the utmost respect for the remains, if any, of the late primal cybernetic organism known as Elderoot. They shall especially endeavor to keep anything particularly gruesome or horrifying to Aurin civilians out of view of the public until they have completed their work. Otherwise, Dr. Lazarin will need to fill out many more injury liability reports, and we are certain he doesn't want to do that AGAIN.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
A major discovery! With the aid of key Exile agents, Doctor Belle Walker has discovered and explored a operational Eldan exo-lab in Algoroc. This facility was protected by an Eldan AI designated the Caretaker.
Access to Exo-Lab 14 was difficult due to the equally operational Eldan Annihilator, a massive construct reactivated along with the rest of the facility's defenses. Had it not been trapped by malfunctioning systems it could have escaped to threaten all life in Algoroc, and perhaps the planet.
An extremely dangerous nanotechnological affliction of Eldan origin has infected both local wildlife and primal elementals.
CONCLUSIONS:
The XAS will be studying Exo-Lab 14 for many years to come, but even though Belle Walker and her allies deactivated the most dangerous threat in the area - the Annihilator - extreme caution should be exercised to avoid augmentation. There is no known cure except death, and Eldan augmentor constructs still roam the area. It is hoped the Caretaker AI may be able to help us understand this threat more completely, although his knowledge seems as fractured as his personality.
It is uncertain what purpose augmentation served for the Eldan, but it seems logical the observed effects are intentional. The leading hypothesis is that augmentation was intended to weaken the free will of biological organisms, making them perfect servants. With no Eldan to command them, however, the augmented creatures near Exo-Lab 14 have defaulted to an aggressive, feral state. We can conclude, however, that the Eldan did not succumb to augmentation at this site, or they would still be there in some form.
The Annihilator is our most powerful evidence yet that the Eldan created truly monstrous machines of destruction as well as wondrous forms of life. This particular Annihilator appeared to attack all life forms with impunity, and it is not difficult to imagine such creations breaking free of their creators' control. Could this be the simplest answer to the Eldan mystery? Did their own gigantic mechanical servants do them in?
Or was it, perhaps, whatever the Annihilators were built to fight that did it?
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Doctor Walker's scanbots have offered their own analyses, available in the complete encrypted XAS datafile. Scanbot designated Rusty also wished to express the belief that the XAS should honor Doctor Walker yet again for her achievements in Algoroc since she is "just the greatest scientist in the whole blamed Exile fleet." The scanbot designated Bolt disagreed, placing the blame for the outbreak and the annihilator squarely on Walker's shoulders, adding, "If I have told her once, I have told her one thousand times - you do not need to push every random button and flick every random switch you find."
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan AI construct designated the Caretaker is operational at many locations on Nexus, including Celestion's Exo-Site N22. This facility appeared dedicated to cloning.
The Caretaker's fractured AI systems and deteriorating connections have caused many of his avatars to behave in a dangerously erratic manner.
Eldan cloning technology has proven even more advanced than expected. The Caretaker's fractured avatar had planned to use existing Eldan tech to create armies of clones to "take back" the planet from "invaders."
CONCLUSIONS:
Despite the earliest hopes of XAS leadership, we have not been able to easily answer the persistent mystery of the Eldan, even with the Caretaker's assistance. At least not yet. The AI's memory backups appear to be scattered across the planet, and so far we have not met a Caretaker with anything close to all the answers. Local backups appear more reliable, meaning most Caretaker avatars still seem to possess knowledge of their immediate environment hardwired into their programming - even when all other personality traits fail. This is, no doubt, how he was able to conceive and plan his "clone army."
If he's this strong in an essentially broken state, the Caretaker must once have been an incredible powerful AI. We have no evidence that either he or his hypothetical army - an army that will now never be complete - were responsible for the Eldan's disappearance. However, one cannot fail to wonder whether the Caretaker's system degradation and erratic behavior came before or after the Eldan vanished.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Exo-Site N22 has been placed under FCON guard to protect the cloning facilities from being abused by the wrong people. Fortunately, we of the XAS are the right people. Eldan cloning technology may even prove to be the key to resuscitating Serrick Brightland.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Focus of Air, a huge primal power source crackling with roiling energy, hangs in the sky over Galeras. Both artifact and machine, this Focus alone could be studied for decades before scratching the surface. It is one of six that have been detected from orbit.
Galeras is rife with conflict. The mystical Pell worship the Eldan as gods, but they compete with the mighty Falkrin, masters of the Nexus skies, to seize control of the region. The Exile capital of Thayd's central location means Galeras is also constant witness to skirmishes between the Exiles and Dominion.
The Eldan created enormous, intelligent, and immensely powerful forms of life they dubbed the Primevals, each, like the Focuses, aligned with a particular primal element. Osiric, the Primeval of Air, is a being of tremendous strength and power. Both Falkrin and Pell worship him as a god.
CONCLUSIONS:
Both the Pell and the Falkrin of Galeras are fascinating examples of accelerated evolutionary development - or in the Pell's case, evolutionary regression - due to concentrated exposure to primal energy. The Pell, we believe, were once a servitor race to the Eldan, but have come to worship both their former "Masters" and the Focus of Air itself. They have become skilled at manipulating primal energy, and attempted to sacrifice several XAS researchers as part of a powerful ritual.
Could the Pell have been the end of the Eldan? This ability to control primal power may have been a surprise to the Eldan as well, and an open rebellion by their servants could have caused them considerable difficulty. There would certainly be evidence of such an uprising, however, even after centuries. This possibility seems remote - the Pell almost universally worship the Eldan to this day, so slaughtering them would make little sense.
The Falkrin, on the other hand, appear to have long shared a dislike of "groundwalkers." Now the Primeval they worship as a deity, Osiric, has commanded the Falkrin to go to war against all outsiders. Although FCON repelled their attack on the Exile outpost, Skywatch, the battle was hard fought, while the Falkrin - and Osiric - remain a threat.
Did the Falkrin attack the Eldan as well, or did Primevals like Osiric make the Eldan disappear the old-fashioned way - by consuming them whole? Unlikely, but the possibility cannot be completely dismissed.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
The XAS absolutely denies the scurrilous allegations that certain Mordesh members of the academy retrieved, prepared, and consumed Falkrin eggs. This is impossible, as socially functional Mordesh do not consume ordinary food. However, XAS field researchers do strongly suspect the Chua have already perfected the Falkrin egg omelet and are well on their way to a perfect Rootbrute steak.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
Rumors of a strange, mutated form of augmentation have proven true. The form of augmentation infecting the so-called "Ascendancy" does not rob the infected of conscious thought in any way, but instead offers many of the benefits of augmentation - increased strength, endurance, and overall health - while allowing the individual to maintain a modicum of control.
The leader of the Ascendancy appears to be Calidor Antevian, brother of the Dominion hero Toric Antevian. Now simply calling himself Brother Calidor, the former Vigilant cleric appears to be the primary infection vector for the rest of the cult.
Augment Facility X426 is the source of this "ascendant" variety of augmentation. It also appears to be where the bipedal cyborg dubbed "Metal Maw" was created, which may help explain the unusual characteristics of the nanobiotic infection.
CONCLUSIONS:
The Ascendancy appears quite interested in spreading their "gospel" of augmentation to the rest of the world as soon as possible, which may indicate their condition encourages this sense of urgency. An experiment like the creation of Metal Maw, if interrupted at the wrong time, could have left the augmentation nanites in a this kind of agitated state. That said, evidence from stolen Dominion records shows that Calidor Antevian was constantly overshadowed by his brother Toric, the "Vigilant Star," who leads the Radiant Legion. It is certainly possible his own feelings of inadequacy imprinted on the infection, leaving other victims vulnerable to his influence. The desire to spread the ascendant augmentation to others began immediately when Calidor's group attacked the local Pell, attempting to turn them to the Ascendancy's cause.
The XAS considers it extremely unlikely that ascendant augmentation had anything to do with the disappearance of the Eldan - there is no evidence it even existed in its current form before Brother Calidor discovered it. Augmentation itself, however, has again proven a resilient suspect in the Eldan mystery, as the events at Augment Facility X426 show.
The only problem with this hypothesis is that there are currently no augmented Eldan wandering the planet, attacking newcomers. From everything we have seen of augmentation, this would be an inevitable result of such an outbreak. The possibility cannot be completely ruled out, but after meeting the Ascendancy many XAS members have concluded augmented Eldan would probably have left Nexus to take over half the galaxy by now.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
There is, in fact, no "Metal Pa" or "Metal Paw." Metal Maw is all on her own. Or his own. Frankly, we have so far had no volunteers to determine the correct pronoun to use.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan conducted some of their most dangerous experiments not on the surface of Nexus but at hidden facilities on the Farside of moon Halon. Largely intact Eldan bio-domes still contain the results of ancient life experiments - many still alive and deadly.
Eldan terraformers on Farside were operational for centuries resulting in completely incompatible biomes colliding. Mutant forms of creatures from the surface of Nexus can also be found on Farside, along with more bizarre life forms more suited to vacuum.
An infestation of squirg in the region has mutated due to prolonged exposure to primal energy and grown increasingly aggressive.
CONCLUSIONS:
Eldan terraforming technology was legendary in the greater galaxy once, and tales of their power to shape and manipulate entire worlds were widespread even in the days of the Cassian Commonwealth. And while such technology has been found on the surface of Nexus, the terraformers on Halon's Farside are in another class entirely.
Evidence indicates far more happened on Farside than terraformers left unattended, however. A natural disaster elsewhere on the moon appears to have nearly destroyed Halon in the recent geological past, and for now we can find no evidence the terraformers had any direct involvement. Farside's terraformers and bio-domes show typical signs of abandonment now familiar from earlier investigations - not outright destruction - indicating the disaster could have been natural. Although with the Eldan, that rarely seems to be the case.
This has led to a new guiding hypothesis for this research: there may have been no singular cause for the Eldan's disappearance at all. It may have been a confluence of events with unexpected results that took even the ancients off guard. An asteroid could have struck Farside at just the moment the Eldan were busy fighting Megadroids. Mutated life forms could have found homes within abandoned technology, leading to an outbreak of a mind-control parasite population. Rampant augmentation could have infested an as-yet-undiscovered Focus or Primeval. Some propose the Eldan may have truly ascended to godhood - and the Dominion is actually right.
One thing we do know: all evidence thus far has the XAS convinced the Eldan were not expecting to vanish. Their continued absence from galactic affairs more than a thousand years on seems to indicate the worst possible fate.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Breathing apparatuses are required for survival over large stretches of the Farside surface. Dr. Lazarin has volunteered to provide helmets for Mordesh Exiles that socket into their existing biotech components. It's rumored the doctor liberated them from a Grismaran ship he found adrift during the evacuation of his homeworld. The crew, all Ravenous, no longer needed them.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The mysterious apparition that has been sighted across Nexus appears to be an Eldan-created being known as Drusera.
According to Drusera, the Eldan's sole purpose on planet Nexus was to create the "Genesis Prime," a "perfect being" of some kind - although at this point it is unclear exactly what purpose such a being was supposed to serve.
Drusera is the Genesis Prime.
CONCLUSIONS:
The observations within the exo-lab represent a landmark event in the ongoing investigation into the Eldan's disappearance. Not only do we now have a clear idea about the true nature of the Nexus Project, it appears that we also have access to an individual who was created by the Eldan themselves, and may have been present at the time of their disappearance.
At this point we cannot fully ascertain whether or not Drusera is a reliable source of information, but datacubes found throughout Exo-Lab Prime seem to corroborate the important points of her story. It also appears that the Eldan had some difficulty developing the technology that was necessary to create the Genesis Prime, but that at some point designs for a "Protoplasmic Resonator" were mysteriously delivered by the leader of the Nexus Project. The source of this advanced technology is yet unknown.
Details about the full capabilities of the Genesis Prime are still undefined, although a datacube entry by the virtual construct known as the Caretaker seems to indicate that its powers are virtually limitless. If Drusera is indeed the Genesis Prime, then her ethereal figure would appear to be little more than a means of communication, with limited power to affect the real world. If this is the case, then where, exactly, is the real Genesis Prime located?
We believe that Drusera is now our most important link to discovering what happened to the Eldan, and whether or not it represents a danger to the Exiles on planet Nexus. We anxiously await her next communication.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
The information concerning the true nature of the "mysterious apparition" seems to dispel the current rumor that Chua agents of DRED had infused Exile water sources with an unidentified psychotropic substance. Field tests on known psychotropics substances should cease immediately.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan were studying an extremely virulent biological agent that they had designated "the Strain."
According to Drusera, the Strain appeared soon after the creation of the Genesis Prime. The details surrounding its origins are still disturbingly unclear.
The Eldan were unsuccessful in developing an effective defense against the Strain. Given the horrendous condition of the infected organisms within Exo-Lab X39, this fact is extremely concerning.
CONCLUSIONS:
The information collected in Exo-Lab X39 is both enlightening and disturbing. First and foremost, this facility had been tightly secured by the Eldan, who appeared to believe it required the highest level of quarantine from the outside world. It was only with the assistance of Drusera that we were able to bypass the advanced security measures and observe the organisms inside.
Those observations were indeed frightening. According to Drusera, the virulent biological infection known as the Strain appeared not long after her creation. Datacube recordings reveal that the Eldan were both impressed and concerned with its capability to infect and transform any biological creature that it came in contact with.
Although the evidence is so-far inconclusive, it has been theorized that the Eldan were somehow responsible for engineering the Strain. What is clear is that they were unable to create an effective vaccine against its effects, despite the advanced level of their technology. Drusera seemed particularly concerned by this fact. It appears that she was hoping to discover information to the contrary.
Could the Strain be what was ultimately responsible for the Eldan's disappearance? If so, why haven't we discovered any examples of the infection outside of this exo-lab? At this point, we seem to have more questions than we do answers. We can only hope Drusera contacts us again soon.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
The XAS wishes to reiterate, particularly to the esteemed Dr. Lazarin, that XAS members are NOT authorized to obtain a sample of the Strain for their "own personal studies."
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The origin of the Strain has now been identified. It appears that it was created by an intelligent biological anomaly that calls itself "the Entity."
The Entity was extremely interested in the operative who ventured through the portal into the cave, especially because of their recent interactions with Drusera.
Based on the events in the cave, it would appear that the Entity has the power to create life based on another organism's "primal pattern."
CONCLUSIONS:
Our search for the Eldan has taken a darker and more horrific turn. As before, our capable operative entered the portal that appeared at the archaeological site outside of Thayd - but instead of finding Drusera, they were confronted by a malevolent presence that eventually revealed itself as "the Entity."
The frightening nature of this being can hardly be described in this report. Along with being physically terrifying, it seems possessed of advanced intelligence and an intimate knowledge of the Eldan and their activities on planet Nexus. During the encounter, the Entity stated that it was also one of the Eldan's creations, that it was responsible for the Strain, and that Drusera was not telling the entire truth of what transpired here.
The Entity seemed extremely interested in our operative, and was curious as to why Drusera had singled them out. Even more alarming, after subjecting our operative to a series of harrowing "scientific" tests, it used the operative's "primal pattern" to create a unique humanoid Strain mutation it called "the Skurge." We can only assume that these abominations will play a future role in the highly volatile circumstances unfolding here.
It seems a foregone conclusion that the Entity had something to do with the Eldan's disappearance, but the true nature of its involvement has yet to be discovered. Based on these most recent observations, we have delivered a strong warning to the Exile Council, and FCON has been put on high alert. It appears that this Entity has larger plans, undoubtedly diabolical, and our ability to control the situation is questionable at best.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
It has come to our attention that "Deadeye" Brightland has recently offered to "acquaint this Entity with some bullets." Although we appreciate the bounty hunter's willingness to offer his services, it is the recommendation of XAS Logistics that we do not take him up on his offer. I have asked for volunteers to relay this information to Mr. Brightland, but none have yet come forth.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The being known as Drusera seems to possess almost unlimited powers, including the ability to manifest matter using only her mind.
The Entity is aware of Drusera's capabilities and appears to be intent on somehow obtaining those powers for itself.
Despite her apparent omnipotence, Drusera seems powerless against the Entity.
CONCLUSIONS:
The events which recently transpired within the alleged "pocket in time and space," however enlightening, do not bode well for the success of this investigation, nor for the survival of our fledgling Exile civilization on planet Nexus.
One fact does indeed seem certain: that the power of the Genesis Prime, the being we now call Drusera, is almost limitless. On many occasions during this most recent encounter, she appeared to possess the ability to manifest matter and create life at will. This very fact alone might be considered the most significant scientific discovery in our history, or perhaps in the history of the universe itself.
Taking into account all of our collected knowledge about the Nexus Project, it would seem that the purpose of the Genesis Prime was to facilitate the Eldan's desire to perfect creation - and from our observations, it would appear that they were successful. Drusera is gifted with near-omnipotence. There is almost nothing that she is incapable of.
Yet the threat of the Entity looms ever larger. Drusera greatly fears this biological abomination, and her powers seem considerably less effective against the Strain. Despite her assurances that our operative was safe inside the anomalous space-time location, the Entity and its minions appeared there and destroyed everything that Drusera had so easily created. During this event, Drusera herself fled the scene - seemingly frightened to confront the Entity face-to-face.
Drusera has stated on more than one occasion that the Entity wants her powers for itself. If that eventuality were to somehow take place, the consequences for planet Nexus, as well as the universe beyond, would be unimaginably catastrophic.
What conclusions can we draw at this point? The fate of the Eldan is somehow inextricably tied to the creation of the Genesis Prime, as well as the emergence of the Entity. But the relationship between these two is complex and frustratingly opaque. We can only hope that Drusera can give us further insight into what is happening before it is too late for us all.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Commander Stonebreaker's most recent request has been soundly rejected. The supply requisition stating that his troops need increased beer rations "because of science" will under no circumstances receive official XAS approval or sign-off.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan considered the Entity to be extremely dangerous, and attempted to destroy it in the Terminus Complex.
The power of the Entity was too great, and the Eldan were instead destroyed.
Arriving too late to save the Eldan, Drusera imprisoned the Entity in the Lightspire - knowing that the prison would not last forever.
CONCLUSIONS:
It appears that the question concerning the fate of the Eldan has finally been answered.
Based on the data collected during the Terminus Complex incident, it has been confirmed that the Eldan were indeed destroyed by the Entity. This fact comes as no surprise to the XAS, given the data that we have collected throughout our research here on Nexus.
According to Drusera, and corroborated by information extracted from datacubes throughout the complex, the Eldan attempted to destroy the Entity near the end of the Nexus Project. Unfortunately, the creature broke free of its restraints and laid waste to the facility. It also appears that the Eldan were eradicated during this event as well. If any remain on the planet, we have yet to discover them.
Having arrived too late to help her creators, it appears that Drusera used her considerable powers to imprison the Entity in the monolithic exanite structure known as the Lightspire. It has now been imprisoned there almost a thousand years. According to Drusera, it won't hold the beast for much longer.
What exactly does this mean? First and foremost, it appears as if the Entity we have observed is merely a projection of the actual creature - not unlike Drusera herself. If indeed this is the case, then the true power of the Entity must be mind-boggling.
Secondly, despite her considerable capabilities, Drusera does not appear to have the ability to destroy the Entity. If the Eldan considered Drusera a god, then the Entity should be afforded the same status.
Further questions come to mind. Where, exactly, is Drusera? If she is truly the Genesis Prime, then why can't she destroy the Entity? Although her assistance has been extremely enlightening, there are still aspects of her story that are either unclear or misleading. Can we actually trust her? Do we have a choice?
The XAS has made a recommendation to the Exile Council that mass evacuation protocols be prepared for Exiles across planet Nexus. Of course, if the Entity escapes, such measures will more than likely be meaningless.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Despite these growing tensions, or perhaps because of them, Queen Myala Everstar has reiterated her intention to "hug each and every Exile on planet Nexus." The XAS has been asked to analyze the physical and psychological benefits of such a program. Efforts at doing so are ongoing.
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
As already reported, Dominion forces successfully managed to infiltrate Megatech Station, eluded or eliminated all perimeter resistance, sabotaged the tower controls, destroyed a wing of Hellfire tanks, dispatched a sizable estimate of Megatech troopers and bots, permanently dismantled an enemy War Construct, and neutralized four Exile mercenary squads along with a Warbot before unleashing the Eldan Annihilator held there to destroy the entire facility. That these accomplishments were all the work of a single agent serves as still further proof of the shoddiness of Exile defenses.
While our operative was able with minimal interfacing to reprogram the Annihilator, the full range of its destructive capabilities is still uncertain. Speculations as to the unit's original annihilatees remains under debate, with popular theories ranging from tectonic reconfiguration and satellite creation to repelling trespassers. But who such trespassers could have been remains unanswered and perhaps unanswerable.
Though a laudable act, the total destruction of the facility and its hundreds of on-site Exile personnel does leave us guessing on several fronts: was the prevalence of cybernetic security forces a purely tactical decision or had the Exiles made progress in analyzing the Annihilator's circuitry? If the latter, perhaps the timing of our assault was even more auspicious than anticipated.
HYPOTHESES:
While the assault is being widely (and rightly) hailed as a military success, a surprising amount of useful intel on the Eldan was also gleaned in the process. We now know that for all their omnipotence the Eldan still felt the need for external security units. Large ones. This strongly suggests either vigilance against a previously unrecorded threat or simply distaste for their activities being observed. Which of these proves the case, only time will tell.
Furthermore, considering the speed with which even Exile scholars were able to bring the Annihilator online, we can also safely assume that it is self-powered, technically accessible, and almost certainly not the only of its kind. Sweeps for comparable energy signatures in unmapped regions are already in progress.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS:
==================================
While FCON reports corroborate that the Exiles' ability to construct another research emplacement in the region will not be possible soon, that the present whereabouts of the Annihilator is uncertain is an ongoing topic of concern. While our operative's decision to board a transport ship in order to survive the explosion is understandable, the failure to observe the Annihilator's probable destination, let alone pilot it back to base for more extensive reconditioning, is very much regretted.
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
Although the disappearance of the Elder Cube within mere moments of its obtainment was admittedly a failure, it was at least a highly instructive one. While we are still sifting through all the implications of the reports, several new revelations have already put our research far ahead. Not least among these is the confirmed existence of the Elder Cube itself, and with some degree of certainty its continued existence on Nexus.
That the Eldan used Skeech as test specimens has already been well archived. That some remain not only preserved but alive would seem to be the result of properties inherent in the environment and not the Skeech themselves. Dissection by the newly dispatched teams should settle the issue, interference by the Caretaker or construct reinforcements notwithstanding.
HYPOTHESES:
The notion that the Elder Cube "rejected" Artemis Zin on genetic grounds or according to criteria for which we have no template should be investigated, but seems unlikely. The Caretaker's central role would seem to preclude this possibility, as he/it made no direct reference to such hurdles. Moreover, Zin herself was not the operative who physically recovered the key fragments. To all of which we must add the by no means inconsequential fact that she survived its ostensible rejection.
Where then did the Elder Cube go? Unknown. Was its relocation the desired outcome all along, either on the Caretaker's part or the Cube's? Failure as an integral stepping-stone to all solutions is a critical Eldan concept that we have seen exemplified time and again.
Again we see evidence that they linked prestige with intellectual challenge. While this assertion alone is of mild intrinsic value, it is comforting to note that, godlike as they were, the Eldan were not incapable of hubris. They consistently saw themselves as "gladiators of the mind" pitting their wits against the deepest secrets of the universe. We are thus encouraged that their motives and therefore artifacts are within the scope of our understanding.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS:
==================================
Further data is required, especially regarding the capabilities of the guardians of other yet undiscovered labs. While our operative performed adequately under the circumstances, it would have been of interest to see their disposal methods of trespassers. An expedition along these lines is already being assembled.
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
A bizarre phenomenon has been observed in the Deradune region's tar pits. Bones of long-dead creatures are reemerging from the muck, reanimated as mindless killing machines. Locals and our own troops have dubbed the monsters "skeledroids."
Exo-Lab A37 was discovered near the tar pits, suggesting a possible connection. Lady Artemis Zin, explorer and galactic celebrity, entered the facility as part of what she called "her mission."
Lady Zin reports she encountered a helpful avatar of the Caretaker who assisted in bringing the exo-lab defenses back online. He was also of assistance in preventing the subsequent deaths of Lady Zin and her team.
The tar pit itself does not appear to be caused by any long-running Eldan experiments. However, natural seepage may be partly responsible for the skeledroid phenomenon in this area. If some substance or alchemical concoction mutated into something that could reanimate bones, the seepage may have hidden it.
HYPOTHESES:
Lady Zin's report confirmed the extreme danger of augmentation, most notably the fact that a creature need not even be alive to be infected - even a skeleton, so long as it is organic in origin, may act as a host for the nanobiotic parasite.
This raises the unsettling possibility that augmentation could jump not only to dead bones, but to completely inorganic life forms. Even computers, vehicles, and starships. Did the Eldan face a rebellion of their own dead, or the disposed remains of their failed experiments rising to take the lives of their creators? The very fact the record before you exists seems proof they did not - for if augmented Eldan existed, surely they would have shown themselves. If anything, the number of corpses amid the wreckage shows the dangers of anything or anyone fighting against the Eldan.
What about the Caretaker? The Eldan AI has shown a considerable diversity of personalities, and one of those could conceivably have deceived and betrayed the Eldan, tricking them into leaving the planet or even sabotaging a lethal experiment. This too seems extremely unlikely, however - all evidence points to the Caretaker's current fractured state as a result of centuries of neglect and network decay.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS:
==================================
It is unknown whether physical contact with skeledroids can lead to inadvertent augmentation, but so far the test subject appears to be doing well and shows no signs of infection. The subject's identity and status will be monitored without his knowledge for now.
No need to start a panic, now, is there?
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
The Eldan installation designated Bio-Mech Facility 498 appears to be the largest structure dedicated almost entirely to the process of augmentation. It should be considered extremely dangerous, and warning the general population of the danger is highly recommended.
Calidor Antevian, the cleric brother of the "Vigilant Star" Toric Antevian and a self-proclaimed "seeker of truth," entered Facility 498 and encountered a mutated variety of the typical augmentation nanites.
Inside a previously undiscovered recombination chamber, Calidor was infused with primal energy and microscopic nanites. Unlike most augmented beings, Antevian appears to have maintained control of his faculties. Indeed, he claims to have "Ascended," and now seeks disciples to join his "Ascendancy."
HYPOTHESES:
Augmentation is indeed one of the Eldan's most versatile, widespread, and dangerous creations. Mutation was inevitable. This particular mutation, however, poses an even greater threat. As tragic as ordinary augmentation is for the augmented, those infected are as good as dead anyway. Calidor's "ascendant augmentation," however, has driven him mad, yet left him in control of his faculties. Worse, a mere touch can transfer these mutant nanites to a new host, potentially adding to the Ascendancy's numbers with little effort.
It would be the height of arrogance to presume Calidor Antevian's loyalties still lie with the Dominion. Despite the strange situation he has turned against the empire and should be considered a traitor. Care is advised in killing or capturing the renegade cleric. So far, anyone sent to take Calidor down has instead become part of his cult.
Some have already hypothesized that mutated augmentation may have been at least partly responsible for the disappearance of the Eldan. This seems unlikely for the same reason it seemed unlikely in the Deradune region - we would presumably have seen augmented Eldan among the other augmented creatures (or "Ascendants").
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS:
==================================
For all intents and purposes, Dominion citizens should consider themselves under quarantine while in the Ellevar region. Under no circumstances should citizens speak to, touch, or even contact representatives of the Ascendancy. Especially those to whom those citizens were once close. This means taking great pains to prevent Commander Antevian from contacting his brother. This may prove difficult, as the Vigilant Star is not known for taking "no" for an answer, but with luck he will see the logic of this position.
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
The Osun of the Kel Voreth ruins - a tribe of mighty champions, gifted bladeforgers, and deadly darkwitches - are truly imposing examples of that bloodthirsty species.
Recent encounters with these "Voreth Osun" reveal they have been dwelling in the Kel Voreth ruins since the days the Eldan were still present on Nexus. They share Kel Voreth with many deadly elementals and subterranean mutants.
The Voreth Osun have begun to amass a huge store of weapons and armor over the last several centuries, awaiting the day when they could reemerge on the surface of Nexus.
The creation of the Osun appears to have been the Eldan's first great success, a fully engineered race capable of defeating any foe and ruling over any subject. But the Osun rebelled against their overlords, inviting a deadly response from Eldan Annihilators that drove most tribes completely underground.
HYPOTHESES:
According to our findings at the Kel Voreth site in Auroria , the Osun - or "OS-1" as the Eldan originally designated them - may have been intended as the Eldan's first completely hands-off experiment. Before the Osun were unleashed on Nexus, the Eldan had created many less intelligent life forms, or servitor species. The Osun were to be intelligent enough to create their own society, civilization, and perhaps someday an empire - overseen by the Eldan, of course.
In other words, in a very real sense the Osun might have been the race chosen to lead the Dominion. A species of giants with innate technological and alchemical talents, the Osun were more than ready to believe they deserved to rule.
Unfortunately for the Osun, there was a fatal flaw in their logic. They believed they deserved to rule alone - without the Eldan. Rising up against their creators, the Osun chose war and were brutally defeated by the Eldan's terrifying Annihilator constructs.
The actions of the Voreth tribe may be the first rumblings of a new worldwide uprising of Osun. Yet it is a testament to the severity of their earlier loss that they have remained underground so long, even though the Eldan have disappeared. If the Osun are the reason the Eldan are gone, their behavior is inexplicable. No, it seems far more likely the mighty Osun really were licking their wounds and rebuilding their considerable forces, waiting until there could be no chance of a second defeat.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS:
==================================
Dominion law specifically prohibits the consumption of unlicensed alchemical beverages with transformative qualities. Any citizens seen consuming the potions of Osun darkwitches, whether or not those citizens are in control of their faculties, will be prosecuted as soon as Dominion prosecutors can figure out how to do it.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The rumors of a strange, mutated form of augmentation appear founded. The self-inflicted form of augmentation affecting devotees of the so-called "Ascendancy" permits them a modicum of control (or at least the illusion thereof). Although it does not rob the victim of conscious thought, it does confer the well-known perks of the process, including: increased strength, endurance, and fortitude.
The undisputed leader of the Ascendancy is Calidor Antevian, brother of the legendary hero Toric Antevian. Now christening himself "Brother Calidor," the erstwhile Vigilant cleric appears to be the primary carrier/figurehead for the entire cult.
Augment Facility X426 is the sole source of this "Ascendant" augmentation. It has also been confirmed as the facility responsible for the production and (no pun intended) ascendance of the bipedal cyborg popularly dubbed "Metal Maw," which may help to explain the unusual characteristics of the nanobiotic infection.
CONCLUSIONS:
From all available evidence, the Ascendancy appears quite interested in disseminating their "gospel" of augmentation planetwide as soon as possible. Our records confirm that Calidor Antevian was a figure who saw himself constantly in the shadow of his brother Toric, the "Vigilant Star," who leads our Radiant Legion. It is quite conceivable that defects he observed in his own personality played a role in the subservient attitude of those who now follow him. Calidor's fervently expressed urge to spread the irreversible effects of "Ascendant" augmentation to new acolytes - willing or otherwise - led to his followers' attack of the local Pell in an audacious attempt to convert them.
That said, DRED analysts consider it doubtful that Ascendant augmentation played any role in the disappearance of the Eldan. For that matter, there is no evidence that the movement even existed before Calidor formalized (or in his words "discovered") its existence.
Augmentation as a general concept has cropped up time and again in our studies of the Eldan, with the events at Augment Facility X426 serving only as the most recent (and dramatic). However, as there have been exactly zero reports of augmented Eldan wandering Nexus, it is the judgment of this panel that such an outbreak ever having occurred is a remote possibility. DRED has determined after encounters with the Ascendancy that had similarly augmented Eldan existed, they would have certainly wiped out half the galaxy by now.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Chemical analysis confirms that Metal Maw is indeed composed of a hyperbonded megasteel alloy. Visual analysis confirms that Metal Maw has a truly enormous mouth. Further analysis is not recommended without substantial armed backup.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
Based on the latest evidence, the Eldan conducted their most dangerous experiments on Farside. The bio-domes here are generally intact, along with numerous surviving specimens or descendants of same. They are supremely volatile and should be approached with care if at all.
We discovered substantial evidence of terraforming experiments. Machines devoted to this purpose are not only present, but operational, often resulting in overlapping biomes in unstable juxtaposition. Mutations of fauna indigenous to the surface were also reported, along with vacuum-adapted specimens.
Farside is heavily infested with mutated squirg, their dangerous attributes likely the result of prolonged exposure to the primal energies already noted in the area. Due to this, they are consequently more aggressive.
CONCLUSIONS:
Eldan terraforming technology was once the envy of the galaxy. Legends and atmospheric evidence of their power to manipulate ecologies, worlds, and even star systems were ubiquitous even during the heyday of the Commonwealth. While signs of such mastery have occasionally been found on the planet's surface, Farside's terraformers are of another order of magnitude entirely.
These show signs of abandonment but not outright destruction, suggesting that their deterioration may simply be the product of natural forces or an exhaustion of local resources. Countering these innocuous speculations is the Halon Ring. While such formations are hardly unique, our readings indicate that whatever caused its creation did so in the recent geological past. For now the involvement of terraformers is moot.
As scientists, we must be open to the possibility the Eldan did not ascend to godhood, a concept the high sentinel herself has granted us dispensation to pursue. All of which leads us to the startling possibility that there may have been no single reason for the Eldan's disappearance. We have been proceeding of late under the assumption that they are dead. Yet perhaps they simply pulled up stakes following a confluence of unexpected events that needn't have been fatal. An asteroid may have impacted Farside during a critical conflict between Eldan and Megadroids. The squirg may have taken up residence following a parasitic outbreak. Rampant augmentation may have unbalanced an as-yet-undiscovered Focus or Primeval.
Or perhaps the Eldan really did ascend to godhood. That would certainly be welcome news in certain quarters.
Unfortunately, all evidence suggests that the disappearance of the Eldan was abrupt, thorough, and (above conjectures notwithstanding) involuntary. Their continued silence since our arrival is not encouraging.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Breathing apparatuses are required for survival over large stretches of the Farside surface. For more on their forcible removal from Exile personnel, please see Mondo Zax.
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
The mysterious apparition that has been sighted across Nexus appears to be an Eldan-created being known as Drusera.
According to Drusera, the Eldan's sole purpose on planet Nexus was to create the "Genesis Prime," a "perfect being" of some kind - although at this point it is unclear exactly what purpose such a being was supposed to serve.
Drusera is the Genesis Prime.
HYPOTHESES:
The observations within the exo-lab represent a landmark event in the ongoing investigation into what exactly happened to the Eldan. Not only do we now have a clear idea about the true nature of the Nexus Project, it appears that we also have access to an individual who was created by the Eldan themselves, and may have been present at the time of their disappearance.
At this point we cannot fully ascertain whether or not Drusera is a reliable source of information, but datacubes found throughout Exo-Lab Prime seem to corroborate the important points of her story. It also appears that the Eldan had some difficulty in developing the technology that was necessary to create the Genesis Prime, but that at some point designs for a "Protoplasmic Resonator" were mysteriously delivered by the leader of the Nexus Project. The source of this advanced technology is yet unknown.
Details about the full capabilities of the Genesis Prime are still undefined, although a datacube entry by the virtual construct known as the Caretaker seems to indicate that its powers are virtually limitless. If Drusera is indeed the Genesis Prime, then her ethereal figure would appear to be little more than a means of communication, with limited power to affect the real world. If this is the case, then where, exactly, is the real Genesis Prime located?
We believe that Drusera now represents our most important link to discovering what happened to the Eldan, and whether or not it represents a danger to the Dominion citizens on planet Nexus. We anxiously await her next communication.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS
==================================
Rampant conjecture about the "mysterious apparition" has serendipitously distracted Exile scientists from our ongoing efforts to contaminate their water supply with psychotropic substances. DRED is already moving forward with finalizing this operation.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan were studying an extremely virulent biological agent that they designated "the Strain."
According to Drusera, the Strain appeared soon after the creation of the Genesis Prime. The details surrounding its origins are still disturbingly unclear.
The Eldan were unsuccessful in developing an effective defense against the Strain. Given the horrendous condition of the infected organisms within Exo-Lab X39, this fact is extremely concerning.
CONCLUSIONS:
The information collected in Exo-Lab X39 is both enlightening and disturbing. First and foremost, this facility had been tightly secured by the Eldan, who appeared to believe it required the highest level of quarantine from the outside world. It was only with the assistance of Drusera that we were able to bypass the advanced security measures in order to observe the organisms inside.
Those observations were indeed frightening. According to Drusera, the virulent biological infection known as the Strain appeared not long after her creation. Datacube recordings reveal that the Eldan were both impressed and concerned with its capacity to infect and transform any biological creature that it came in contact with.
Although the evidence is so-far inconclusive, it has been theorized that the Eldan were somehow responsible for engineering the Strain. What is clear is that they were unable to create an effective vaccine against its effects, despite the advanced level of their technology. Drusera seemed particularly concerned about this fact. It appears that she was hoping to discover information to the contrary.
Could the Strain be what was ultimately responsible for the Eldan's disappearance? If so, why haven't we discovered any examples of the infection outside of this exo-lab? At this point, we seem to have more questions than we do answers. We can only hope Drusera contacts us again soon.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Please reiterate to Mondo Zax that all Strain samples obtained "for science" should remain confined to the DRED lab under supervised conditions. Impromptu experimentation should be confined to wildlife in their proper pens or Exile POWs ONLY. Oblivious staff members, Mechari or otherwise, do NOT qualify as "volunteers."
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
We have confirmed the origin of the Strain: a reagent, process, and manifestation of an aggressive, exceptionally intelligent biological anomaly that refers to itself as "the Entity."
The Entity is keenly interested in the Dominion operative who infiltrated the cave, ostensibly due to the content of said agent's most recent dialogues with Drusera.
Based on the aforementioned exchanges, it is our assessment that the Entity is capable of independently creating life through the imprinting and subsequent corruption of a target organism's "primal pattern."
CONCLUSIONS:
Our investigation into the disappearance of the Eldan has yielded unexpected progress, although admittedly with risk to our own interests. Once again our agent infiltrated a crucial Eldan location via a portal that appeared on the outskirts of Illium. This time, however, instead of making contact with Drusera as before, they encountered a malign presence identifying itself as "the Entity."
Even simply from the recordings and descriptions provided, the disconcerting qualities of this being (or force) are difficult to articulate in mere text. In addition to a physical presence that can only be described as "dread-inducing," from its speech the being is assuredly of remarkable intelligence. It possesses an intimate knowledge of the Eldan and their activities on Nexus only possible through personal acquaintance. Among its many revelations were the Entity's decisive claims that it was the Eldan's creation, that it had created the Strain, and that the rival creature calling itself Drusera has been deceptive with respect to historical events.
The Entity expressed particular interest in the background and profile of our agent, along with clinical curiosity as to why Drusera had singled this person out. As proof of this, our agent was subjected to a thorough series of scans and trials, from which the Entity purportedly designed Strain mutations that it designated "the Skurge." Their precise function is still uncertain.
What does seem a foregone conclusion is that the Entity played a role in the disappearance of the Eldan, although the full extent of said role has yet to be determined. Based on the data at hand, FCON has been put on high alert and our spies report similar escalations at many Exile camps. As trusting or predicting the behavior of the Entity, let alone controlling it, remains beyond our current capabilities, we are currently at work discussing feasible responses.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Kezrek Warbringer's proposal during our panel's last session to "disembowel this Entity and feed it its own stomach" is deeply appreciated in both sentiment and technique, and we always welcome the input of those in High Command. However, it presumes a timeframe and anatomical considerations that we are not yet at liberty to sanction.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The capabilities of the being called Drusera seem virtually limitless, including the ability to create and manipulate matter entirely through the power of thought.
The Entity is both aware of these capabilities and compelled to acquire them for itself.
For all her abilities, indications suggest that Drusera is grossly overmatched by the Entity.
CONCLUSIONS:
The events reported within the alleged "pocket in time and space" do not bode well for the success of this investigation, and threaten the very existence of Dominion civilization on planet Nexus.
One fact does indeed seem certain: the power of the Genesis Prime, the being we now call Drusera, is considerable. Multiple accounts confirm her ability to create sentient life at will. This alone would doubtless be hailed as the most significant scientific discovery of our age, were it not for the realities the existence of the Entity now forces us to confront.
Taking into account all compiled data regarding the Nexus Project, it appears certain that the original purpose of the Genesis Prime was to fulfill the cherished Eldan goal of creating the Perfect Being. Based on our observations thus far, it is safe to say their efforts exceeded their intentions. The full measure of Drusera's capabilities is still being quantified.
But such studies are ineffably threatened by the increasing power and ambitions of her dark counterpart. Drusera truly dreads this "Entity," and her own abilities are clearly less effective against the Strain. Despite her assurances of safety, she proved unable to shield our agent from the Entity's malign minions. In fact, our operative reports that during the episode, Drusera, our one hope of combating this being, fled the scene in disgrace.
On several occasions Drusera has averred her unswerving assertion that the Entity desires to co-opt her powers for its own aggrandizement. If this eventuality were to transpire, we can only assume that the consequences for the planet - and perhaps all life as we know it - would be devastating.
What conclusions do we have sufficient evidence for at this juncture? The mystery of what happened to the Eldan is without a doubt related to the history and aims of the Genesis Prime, as well as the emergence of the Entity. But the relationship between these two is frustratingly opaque in many details. For now our only hope is that Drusera will be able to provide further insight before it is too late for us all.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
While dispatching envoys to Exile settlements to compare intel on Genesis Prime or the specific location of the exo-lab is of course a no go, deploying Stalkers to extract the neural data of researchers likely to possess such data is highly advisable.
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
The Eldan shared Drusera's grave concerns regarding the Entity. They entered the Terminus Complex, a structure created as a contingency, to take preventive measures against it.
These efforts were unsuccessful. The Entity took control of the installation, which resulted in the destruction of the Eldan civilization.
Despite failing to save the Eldan, Drusera managed to erect a colossal formation of exanite known as the Lightspire and imprison the Entity within, knowing that such countermeasures were temporary.
CONCLUSIONS:
The final fate of the Eldan is a mystery no longer.
Based on the data gathered in the wake of the Terminus Complex incident, the Eldan were indeed destroyed by the Entity.
As related by Drusera and corroborated by datacubes recovered from the Complex, the Eldan recognized the threat posed by the Entity and attempted to eradicate it at the end of the Nexus Project. They failed. In turn, the Entity laid waste to the facility and slaughtered its personnel. The existence of any survivors from this conflict has yet to be reported.
Despite her inability to save her creators, Drusera was able to construct a massive exanite structure known as the Lightspire, which effectively incarcerated the Entity for roughly a thousand years. However, in the estimation of both Drusera and our own geologists, its continued integrity is in serious question.
What do we know for certain? First and foremost, the organism we have so far termed the Entity is, for lack of more precise terms, merely a projection of its identity, not unlike Drusera. It may well be that both organisms in their "true" state bear little resemblance to anything within our comprehension.
Furthermore, despite the breadth of her capabilities, Drusera remains incapable of dealing with the Entity. To put matters in perspective, the Eldan considered Drusera a goddess. Ergo, it would hardly be hyperbole to accord the Entity a corresponding status.
Inevitably, the additional data compels even more hopeless inquiry. Where is Drusera now? If, as widely countenanced, she is omnipotent, why is she incapable of destroying the Entity? And while her insights have been on the whole beneficial, can we trust her? Moreover, do we have a choice?
DRED has advised the immediate implementation of mass evacuation protocols across the planet. While the odds of survival even off-world are highly dubious, should the Entity's power continue unchecked the projections for those remaining on Nexus are even dimmer.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Though conferring with Exile forces over the gravity of this imminent catastrophe would serve little purpose, all imbedded agents are hereby advised to step up their extraction windows.
Surveyor V-1k watches sixty of his fellow Megadroids plummet, each punching a hole forty meters wide in the clouds. Two seconds later, they emerge into skies of madness.
Colossal mechs fill the heavens above Nexus, exchanging destructive projectiles and rending each other to fiery mist. Weaving through nightmarish cataclysms, V-1k cycles through his dwindling shield options and joins the fray.
Tearing off a giant's mechanical arm while another Surveyor crushes its superheated metal cranium, he marvels at the quickness of the end. Their arrival on Nexus seems an eternity ago, the following few precious hours among the most blissfully productive V-1k has ever known. Now, within a span of ten minutes, the School faces extinction.
Ever since discovering this galaxy, the School had been transfixed by the signature emanating from this otherwise undistinguished system. Nevertheless, V-1k had been stunned that the entire School was committed to the expedition. The cryptic response to his inquiries had verged on the admonitory: Security.
Trepidation among the Binomials was unusual. As peaceful archivists, the School had been forced to engage only three times in a billion years, all incidents tidily erased from cultural memory by saturating the respective atmospheres with nano-hypnides.
In the first hours following their arrival on Nexus, the apprehensiveness seemed unwarranted. Then they had attempted to depart. And the towering Eldan constructs had risen from their subterranean silos. Ten minutes ago.
The battle's mathematics are conclusive. His comrades' dying moments assault him in a steady flurry, far too quickly to cache or interpret. Shimmering grids of plasma roll like breakers across the sky, vaporizing Surveyors in such numbers that massive thunderheads form from the smoldering ashes. The flood of memories slows to a trickle.
And then, alarmingly, V-1k is alone.
He streaks skyward. Despite his shrieking power supply, he accelerates.
A construct grips his foot, then tears it from the socket. Accelerating again, V-1k punches through the stratosphere as seventy-three constructs converge on his location. They surround the Megadroid in overlapping hyper-photonic fields, trying to slow him down. More giants attempt to intersect his trajectory, narrowing his options to deceleration or oblivion. The end is not in question, but he can still choose its nature.
A massive lunar shadow occludes his vision. Corkscrewing spinward, V-1k flips an internal switch.
His face slams into the moon's cratered surface at just under the speed of light.
The resulting detonation is devastating, throwing almost half the moon's mass into orbit. The maelstrom takes centuries to subside. In time, the smoking debris expands into what Nexus's future visitors will christen the Halon Ring.
For V-1k's kind, however, this shape shines more brightly than any beacon, its meaning clearer than any signpost.
The Circle. The most ancient of glyphs, signifying quarantine. KEEP AWAY.
[A dog-eared copy of an old children's picture book popular among Mordesh, this copy is filled with notes that appear to have been scribbled by the original owner - Lucy Lazarin.]
DOWN THE JABBIT HOLE
By Levic Karel
Published per Premium Professional Press Publications
5656 Grismic Grove Gate, Grismaragrad, Grismarava, Grismara
Fourteenth Printing: 1632 G.E.
==================1
[An illustration depicts what must be a pre-Contagion Mordesh girl wearing a simple, old-fashioned dress. She holds a small, dead jabbit in her arms.]
This is Teya Trivic. Teya is dressed to the tens up for a tea party! But something happened to her friend, Jabbs the Jabbit.
What will Teya do now?
==================2
[The next illustration shows Teya in a kid's-style alchemy lab, pouring concoctions into beakers and injecting the dead jabbit with a huge hypodermic needle.]Good thinking, Teya! That shot of Vitalus serum will get Jabbs back in the pink in no time!
==================3
[The next illustration shows Jabbs and Teya Trivic enjoying tea with other animals, none of which are known for enjoying tea within the scientific community.]
Teya and Jabbs sure are happy to have so many friends at their party! But what's this?
==================4
[The following page shows Jabbs leaping free of his seat while Teya Trivic is preoccupied speaking with such unworthy companions as Vic the Vind, Sammy Splorg, and Parsival P. Praxovic.]
Some of their friends don't like tea?
Who do they think they are? Jabbs knows what to do!
==================5
[The following page shows depicts the jabbit's teeth, its terrible claws, and blood. The tea remains intact. Animal corpses lie everywhere.]
When friends are being rude, it's time for new friends! Right, Jabbs?
==================6
[The following page shows Jabbs and Teya Trivic, bloodied, unbowed, and happier than they have ever been as they gather all the body parts together and haul them to Teya's laboratory]
Jabbs and Teya know the best friends are the ones you make yourself. And nothing's better than making best friends!
==================7
[The next page depicts a series of events - Teya and Jabbs dissecting the bodies, stitching together the usable parts into new bodies, and adding simple Mordesh implants. The end of the sequence depicts Vic the Vind's corpse beginning to inflate as the alchemy takes hold.]
Vic the Vind sure isn't being a jerk now, is he? Good work, Teya and Jabbs!
==================8
[The final page depicts Jabbs and Teya back at the tea party. Their new friends are equipped with alchemical and cybernetic implants, and together the group raises a cup of tea in salute to friendship.] To Friendship! The most powerful force in the universe!
Other than the Contagion.
THE END (?)
[This how-to guide for the interested amateur lays out what every alchemist's lab needs, and how to put it all together. This copy has lain idle long enough that the screen has frozen on the highlights page.]
Step 1.
Learn alchemy! People, I cannot stress this enough. If you cannot transmutate a simple chunk of carbinium ore into enough gold to afford the following steps, there is little I can do to help you.
Step 2.
Buy flame-retardant clothes. Also, acid-, gas-, ether-, plasma-, poison-, anti-matter-, red-matter-, dark-matter-, ectoplasm-, and mutagen-retardant clothing.
Step 3.
Buy the best Philosopher's Stone datachron program you can. Taking advice from a bargain basement Philosopher's Stone is a rookie mistake and can lead to sub-optimal results. You may want to invest in humor and card-playing modules as well. It'll help pass the long lonely hours you'll be spending in your lab.
Step 4.
Glassware: test tubes, flasks, retorts, valves, coils and beakers are the heart of the alchemical workspace. Most alchemical supply houses sell sets of glassware that fit the needs of beginner and master alike. I personally would advise not getting the "Super-Deluxe Lazarin Package." Look where it got him... and us.
Step 5.
Determine the type of mad science you intend to pierce the veil of. Specialization provides focus and reduces waste of precious raw materials. For example, you don't need a costly transmutation forge if all you intend to do is raise the dead...
[The rest of the text is corrupted, perhaps by the oily substance that appears to have seeped into the tablet.]
[Professor Morrison's analysis details most of what the XAS has been able to learn about Globellum so far. Unfortunately, it's not much.]
This world always has another surprise around the corner, and then those surprises have their own surprises. Nothing's easy about settling Nexus, that's for sure. Least of all understanding it.
This psionically powerful entity called the Globellum is maybe the biggest surprise since the Strain showed up. It's a massive, colonial organism with a hive mind that only gets smarter the bigger the entire creature gets. Smarter, and more powerful. And it's starting to take our people. Enslaving them with its mind, trapping them in force bubbles we can't begin to crack - at least not with any kind of hope of surviving the effort. We're scientists, not soldiers or heroes.
So where did this Globellum come from? Despite appearances, it has no connection to the Strain plaguing this landscape. No genetic connection to any known creature at all, in fact. It's completely new to the XAS, comprised of materials we've never seen, and has a unique primal pattern that seems to indicate it will absorb and transform any living thing it consumes. What few samples we've been able to analyze are baffling. Each cell is capable of breaking off, surviving, and splitting to create clones of itself.
None of which is going to help our people. They never signed up to be mind-slaves to a monstrous brain-blob.
If help doesn't arrive soon, I won't have a choice. I'm going to lead a team out there and try to save as many people as I can. I don't have much hope of succeeding, but it's better than staying here and doing nothing.
With luck, it won't quite come to that.
[Another volume of the popular educational series for Exiles, which features fictionalized mini-epics of scientific research and theoretical derring-do. The previous user appears to have been interrupted in mid-read, but you manage to decrypt a page's worth of science adventure.]
JIMNAX'S LUCKY MISTAKE
Taking a bite of his spirovine sandwich, for science rarely allows time for a sit-down lunch, Jimnax nearly choked when he saw the data. The test group showed a 3% increase in acidity when compared to the control group. Perhaps it wasn't statistically significant but he was sure he was on the right track.
Charting the results, the ambitious Aurin vowed he'd show the Academy he could run a double-blind trial or his name wasn't Jimnax Moonstriker!
Just then an alarm went off in the back of the lab. The test group was heating up! "Pinch my tail! That's not supposed to happen." Jimnax said out loud.
He rushed back to the tray of tissue samples in their individual petri dishes. Not only were the samples heating up, but any cellular damage they had was healing at an incredible rate! Jimnax was baffled. He knew exposure to omni-plasm alone wouldn't have this effect. Then he noticed something in the sample dishes. It looked like bits of spirovine from his sandwich had contaminated the test samples.
"By the Weave! That's it! The omni-plasm catalyzed the spirovine's primal life!" Jimnax shouted while jumping up and down in victory!
And thus the Medishot was born, boon to all who dare make Nexus their home. Jimnax was soon transferred to field research. His lax lab habits showed that double-blind studies really weren't his thing.
[An issue of a periodical quite popular among lowborn uniblade mechanics in the Dominion. This issue is open to a column from the magazine's recently hired editor-in-chief.]
Oi! Watcha'! I'm the new lad in the shop, ain't I? The high salt, the man behind the desk, if you know what I mean, and I'm not going to fanny about wit'cha. Old Uni-Mech's up for some changes. We mean to take a new direction, return to basics old son!
Way back, when I was in knickers, I'd scope Uni-Mech for the technie, wouldn't I? It was where I learned the ways and means around a 'blade's go-go. Born wit' a spanner in me hand, my dear old would say, and Uni-Mech was my daily bread. The geezers out there know what I'm talking about.
But look what she's turned into. A second rate Lad Mag! There's more ads for fancy togs than there are articles on reactors. Columns on how to spike yer hair just so, how to polish yer horns nice and gleaming-like, what color Uniblade goes wit' yer fur. And don't get me started on all the pics of the pretty Bobs and Bettys in small clothes!
Well, that's all done, innit?
Uni-Mech was a great mag for great mechs. As it was in the beginning, so it shall be again. I promise you words from the best and brightest 'blade monkeys out there. I promise fair, in-depth reviews on parts and gear. Old son, I promise you'll know more about unis when you put us down, than when you picked us up! And maybe, from time to time, a few lush tasties not wearin' much.
[Doctor Claremont's analysis details most of what the Collegium has been able to learn about Globellum so far. Unfortunately, it's not much.]
The Globellum - what is it? Why does it infest Grimvault like the Strain that surrounds it? Our data is frighteningly limited, for a host of reasons. The most significant, of course, is that the damnable thing mentally enslaves anyone sent to study it!
One thing is certain - the Globellum and the Strain are not working in concert with each other. Indeed, the bubbles in which the Globellum traps and keeps those it enslaves are completely resistant to the Strain. In fact, the Globellum may be the first organism of any kind that appears to have immunity to corruption. So far, at least.
Perhaps the Eldan created the Globellum to be a fail-safe, but this seems highly unlikely. There is nothing in the primal signatures of the few samples we've been able to to indicate an artificial origin. All taking samples taught us was that every piece of the Globellum appears to be psionically linked to the central brain-mass. Even a single cell could be enough to regrow the creature, even if firebombed from orbit. Eradicating the Globellum may well be impossible. Therefore, containment is the best possible option.
Did the Eldan think so too? Did they imprison the Globellum in the Grimvault to prevent it from escaping into the universe? There is little evidence to indicate this is the case. Indeed, the Strain more than anything is keeping Globellum in check.
If we ever do succeed in defeating the Strain, will Nexus simply trade one horror for another? We cannot take that chance. We must study the Globellum and understand it. We must ensure it understands us. And ensure it understands the Dominion is not an enemy even it wants to make.
With any luck they won't know we're bluffing.
[A collection of manically horrifying poetry etched gruesomely on a skull. Its origins are as unclear as its existence in this hallucinatory realm.]
Clatter of white, creak of brown
Dead bone and sinew creeping 'round.
Lurkers left, lurkers right
Unwanted guests this gloomy night.
Reaching fingers, gnashing teeth
Unending hunger, they seek relief.
Warm of blood, and vigor restored
Meat on the bone, a smorgasbord.
Angry souls with envy full
Undying beings, they feel the pull.
To end the world, dowse the light
Devour the living, such is their right.
You try to run, or bar the door
Where ever you go there's always more.
They were your friends, your family dear
Slavering monsters, and worse comes near.
To wish you died, never been born
As gobbets of your flesh are torn.
Life is the fantasy, the world obscures
Make no mistake, these bones are yours.
[A short note from Mondo to himself, reminding him to try out this bizarre concoction ICI agents stole from Mordesh alchemists. The Zax clearly respects Mordesh alchemy, as it is not clear whether the Chua scientist has actually followed his own directions yet.]
Mondo! This is Mondo. No not that Mondo. Not the other one either. And DEFINITELY not the Anti-Mondo that Mondo discovered during that one experiment where Mondo might just have torn apart the barriers between dimensions before sealing it all back up again with hypermagnetic plasma tape. You know. The Zax!
So, Mondo. Friendly reminder, yes? Mondo drink this potion! Must see what happens.
Minions drink potion, go catatonic. Come back, crazy stories. Talking bones! Ghost skeletons! A huge, empty complex no one else knows about! Doesn't make sense. Mondo must see for Mondo's self!
But first Mondo put on haz-mat suit. Just in case.
[A terror-fraught report describing the desperate last moments of a Dominion scouting party.]
- Forward Recon Camp: Cankertube Swamp: Lt. Adioni Tremio -
I don't know how much longer I have. I hear Kaltaxa and Avatron out in the swamp calling for me. I think they'll be coming soon and I won't be able to stop them.
There were three of us when we arrived. Three of us. We made it through Wilderrun's jungle, icy Whitevale, Deradune's burning sands. All of it. With barely a scratch. We were the best of the best. Legion Expeditionary Recon.
Damn this planet. Damn the Strain. Damn it all.
Kaltaxa went first, right after we made camp here. The Warbringer wanted eyes on the ground past Grimvault, so in we went. We'd never seen anything like this... I guess 'swamp?' Kal wanted to see what was inside the big blob. Crazy Draken just dove right in. Swam around like it was a day at the beach. Then she clutched her head, started thrashing about like she stuck a claw in a plasma conduit. I was about to jump in after, but Avatron held me back.
A couple of days later Kal came back, but she... it wasn't Kal. I've seen lots of things on this nightmare planet - squirg possession, augmented freaks, Strain corruption - but nothing compared to this. There was something behind her eyes, something alien and... evil. Avatron and me, we probably could have subdued her, but then the hookfeet came out. And the Corruptors swooped down. And together they swarmed the Mechari. Avatron fought like a devil as they dragged him off.
I ran. I hid. Maybe that makes me a coward, but what else could I have done? I tried to hike out, but those damn tubes have blocked the way. I'm caught like a slank in a trap.
Now they've both come back. They're here...
[The report abruptly ends.]
[The latest edition of Rav's relatively famous guide to gastronomy introduces new gastronomically sound dishes cooked with Nexus ingredients.]
"Display to me what you consume, and I shall demonstrate that which you have become."
If you are reading this volume, you are interested in the finer arts of cooking and gastronomy. You have an adventurous palate, and refined nose, and an appreciation for the unusual and the surprising as well as tradition and classic dishes. I know this because I am interested in these things, and now I will share but a few of them with you.
Yes, if you are reading this, you are ready to join me on an odyssey of flavor on a collision course with deliciousness with a detour through the finest ingredients Nexus has to offer.
------------
CONTENTS
------------
SECTION 1: Meats and Poultry
- Ravenok Ravioli with Mother-of-Mollusc Foam
Why foam? Why not?
-Barbecued Boulderback Backboulders with Smoked Cubig Bacon
Perfect with Squirg Chowder! Don't eat Squirg Chowder.
SECTION 2: Seafood and Invertebrates
- Squirg Chowder
Never, ever eat this.
- Flash-Fried Fraz Fries
Fresh and flavorful! From space.
-Walatusk Chunks in Splorg Gravy
Perfect with Squirg Chowder! Which you should never eat. Not ever.
SECTION 3: Fruits and Vegetables
- Lollilopp Surprise
How many licks does it take? You'll be too "Lopped Out" to tell.
- Whimleaf Salad with Roasted Stemdragon Hearts
Eat the stemdragon before it eats you. Spicy!
- Rootbrute Surprise with Squirg Chowder Garnish.
What's the surprise? Rootbrutes are hybrid plant-animal organisms - it's the perfect meat for the vegetarian at your feast! Just don't feed them the Squirg Chowder. I don't know why I keep listing it. Why would anyone eat Squirg Chowder?
[Please enter user password to continue.]
[Incorrect password. First failed attempt.]
[Incorrect password. Second failed attempt.]
[Incorrect password. Third and final failed attempt. Datapad locked.]
[A Mordesh-written guide to dealing with relatives or beloved family pets who have become infected with Strain corruption. It is not a lengthy volume.]
While our race has already suffered most cruely at fate's cold hand, another burden is becoming increasingly common amongst Mordesh living on the planet Nexus - Strain-corrupted loved ones. Be they friends, lovers, family or beloved pets we can no more turn our backs to those subsumed into the Strain's sickly substance than we can our Ravenous brethren. So, here are a few guidelines to help both Caretaker and Corrupted:
DON'T TOUCH THE CORRUPTED
The Strain is a hyper-aggressive infectious vector. Not only does it spread through skin-to-skin contact, it has been known to take a running jump from one victim to another. You will be tempted to try to soothe your loved one with a kind touch, but don't. Not even with bio-haz level 5 gauntlets. Not even with a ten-meter vind prod.
DON'T BRING THE CORRUPTED HOME
It is natural to want to bring loved ones who suffer in disease's dreary domain back to a place of warmth and comfort. Do not do this. Worse than having to care and worry for one Corrupted loved one is having to flee a neighborhood infested with purple-black perversions, or become one yourself. There are few, if any, safe ways to contain the Strain.
DON'T EVEN GET NEAR THE CORRUPTED
This is the logical extension of the previous two guidelines, and it cannot be stressed enough. Seriously. If you can't bear to be apart from your diseased darling, it might be possible to wave at them from a reasonable distance, behind a flame-enforced quarantine cordon, inside a hermetically sealed and armored viewing room. Don't forget to sign all applicable liability waviers.
CONSIDER EUTHANASIA - PREFERABLY WITH A FLAMETHROWER
We Mordesh have a very conflicted and complex relationship with the concept of euthanasia, as we are, in the most technical sense, already dead. Yet even our fallen Ravenous keep some semblance of their former selves, if significantly hungrier and more homicidal. The truth is those infected by the Strain are no longer themselves. We don't know exactly what they have become, but it is part of an unstoppable, vastly intelligent, malignant force. It is no cliche to suggest that here the kindest act is to end their suffering. And if you can't take that last step, a duly authorized official will do it for you.
[This first-person narrative of an adventurer's hunt for Ruga the Ageless lies in a crustly pool of dried Draken blood.]
The land was stark and good, filled with grass and terrible prey. It was the kind of land a Draken could love.
I crept through the swamp, and thought of the days long past, when I would fish in the cold streams near the clan holding. Slashing down into the clear water, my claws would hook the darting, silver fish. Those were good days, and the fish made fine meals.
But now I am grown into life's later days. I seek what all Draken seek, a ferocious animal that I will kill to prove my worth. I have done much in my long life, and have scars to show for it. I want just one more good hunt, one more strong foe, one last fine kill.
At the Pell village, I exchanged dried meat cut from a huge Girrok I hunted in Deradune. They fed me with cakes of flat bread that tasted of the earth's minerals and salt, and gave me clear, thin wine to drink. Not the strong liquor I prefer, but fine and good in the day's hot sun. They told me of a mighty beast in the hills nearby, the hard-shelled Ruga who kills all who come near.
My blood thrilled at the name. Ruga. I almost felt shame at the thought of killing such a fine animal. But even as I loved the beast I had never met, I vowed to kill him just the same. Or he would kill me. It would be good either way.
I climbed up the hill where my prey made his rest. My claws dug into the flinty Blighthaven soil. I could feel the wind blowing through my horns. I stalked my foe, and saw even dug in to sleep he was a great trophy. I felt fear, and am not ashamed to admit it. My heart pounded, muscles coiled, and realized that only at this one moment was I truly alive. Friend Ruga, this old Draken will never forget you.
[The Keepers of Harmony seem to be a bit more civilized than other Pell tribes. This treatise on their beliefs helps to explain why.]
To be one is to be all. That is the Way of Harmony.
Life is the motivating force, yet without Earth's nurturing bed and Water's soothing flow, Life is restless and brazen.
Logic is the bedrock of reason, yet without Fire's boundless passion and Air's lifting embrace, Logic is cold and oppressive.
Air is the sparking breath, yet without Logic's comforting order and Fire's warm light, Air is crazed and dark.
Earth is the nurturer, yet without Life's soft bounty and Water's flowing sustenance, Earth is barren and desiccated.
Fire banishes the dark, yet without Logic's protective restraint and Air's fueling breath, Fire runs amok or dies out.
Water is the cooling sustainer, yet without Life's purposeful motion and Earth's channeling support, Water is dead and directionless.
These are not the only connections, for the net of the world is vast. And just as a net is not made of one strand, neither is the world. A net with weak knots and unbalanced tension falls apart.
To be one is to be all. We follow the Way of Harmony.
With the release of LOVE BEHIND THE THRONE, Narrisa Artan has returned to familiar ground. Last year's EMPIRE OF RUIN, the anti-imperial satire set in the early days of the Dominion, was, to say the least, a disappointment to Ms. Artan's fans. Rumor has it the book didn't go down very well with the ICI either (which perhaps explains why Ms. Artan took an unscheduled sabbatical, and had to cancel all book signings and media interviews).
A period piece set in the middle years of the Reign of Wisdom, the story centers around Lani Softhand, a lowborn chamber maid in the emperor's palace and her fiery, but doomed love affair with Lord Seraphel. Comfortable with period detail, Artan creates a romantic, believable world filled with intrigue, wonder, and not just a little danger. The book's plucky, gorgeous protagonist pulls the young emperor-to-be out of his academic nook, and into the sensual realm of the lowborn. If the premise is somewhat cliché, it is redeemed by the clever interweaving of real historic events with ficticious characters and plots.
If there is a flaw to the novel it is the perplexingly uneven tone. Multiple times we see glimpses of the cynical wit that suffused Artan's previous work, which suddenly veers away into trite sentimentality and patriotism. A good example is when young Lani uncovers what seems to be a plot by the ICI to brutally quash the lowborn spaceport workers' attempt to unionize. Clearly this mirrors the real Port Cassus Riots of 725 AE, but this "fictional" storyline is suddenly and nonsensically revealed to be a double ruse, wherein the virtuous ICI is actually protecting the ignorant port workers from the manipulations of an alien enemy. Relieved, Lani says, "Thank the Scions for the ICI. They truly are the guardians of the Dominion's moral center." A strangely political and patriotic statement for a torrid romance.
Yes, it is funny, that. And not what the masses call "ha-ha funny." But your humble reviewer will speculate no further, as it does not pay to speculate where even the fictional ICI is concerned.
The stench of death awoke her.
Drusera's eyes fluttered open. She elevated a boiling chunk of machinery the size of an asteroid lying on top of her and projected it over the horizon in a fading shriek. Bits of fused crystal sloughed away like grains of sand as she rose. The Terminus Complex lay in ruins. She was surrounded by a horde of snarling abominations, frightening, yet somehow familiar.
The absence of the Eldan smoldered behind her eye like a hot needle. Beneath her, Nexus teemed with life, most of it blissfully ignorant to their peril. With a thought, she suspended time itself and reflected.
Reflected on the way they led her into a chamber she'd never seen before. Elyona's artificial cheer. Her fate, decided. A moment of vertigo. Then nothing. Heavy sedation, suppressing the... other.
It was not enough.
She spun, assessing the horde. They blanketed the landscape, quivering with a rapacity that stung her. She allowed time to resume, but something else held them. They surrounded her, slavering but tethered to an unseen and severely strained leash.
"The Strain hungers."
Its sinister voice slithered up from her consciousness. The dark sibling of her fractured mind. Already she could feel it growing, reaching, filling her with a cold, inky blackness. The next time would be the last. She did not have long.
"The Eldan," she said flatly. "Are they dead?"
"Do they appear so?"
Snarls from a thousand throats rose to a keening scream. For the briefest of moments, she almost pitied them.
"You cannot resist us. We cannot be stopped. With your power we can perfect this universe."
"And if I refuse?"
The Entity's laugh echoed insidiously in her mind.
"You know as well as we do that you cannot."
She closed her eyes. The truth of its words was inescapable.
"You're right. Let us be done with it."
Within her, almost imperceptibly, the Entity relaxed its icy grip.
"At last, you see..."
"Yes," she replied. "I see."
She waved her hand. Massive spires of exanite burst like incisors from the planet's crust. Thousands of Strain impaled, the rest screaming in vain as massive walls rose up to imprison them. A towering column erupted beneath her with a force that raised clouds of dust on both moons. Nexus groaned, its continents contorting as she transformed bedrock to pure exanite. Within seconds, the tip of the white-gold spire reached hundreds of feet into the sky.
Howling with fury, the Entity shattered the remaining walls in her mind, washing over her like a viscous, frigid wave. Her body shuddered, her alabaster skin infused with swirling, crystalline shadow.
"No!" the Entity screamed. "You cannot do this! We will not be contained!"
The massive pillar split and surrounded her, bathing her in a blinding light. Immobilized within a field of pure primal resonance, the Genesis Prime fell into a slow, shadowy dream. This prison would not last forever, but it might last long enough. There were others.
She only hoped there was enough time.
[The voice-to-text log of Werynn Saferoot, an Aurin explorer.]
Whoo! Yeah! Look at that view! Oh man, this is awesome! I'm on top of the world! Whoo!
[The timestamp on the log moves forward two minutes]
I can't wait to tell the guys at the Explorers Union about this! That jump had to be 20-30 meters at least and I nailed it. Take that Nooks! Who's afraid of heights now?
[Two more minutes pass]
Yep. Pretty cool. I'm really high up here.
[Several more minutes pass]
Okay. There's gotta be a way down, right? I mean, if you can get up to someplace, you can get down too. It's, like, physics.
[From the sounds of shuffling and nervous humming, it seems Werynn left the log running while he looked for a way down.]
HELLOOO? Is anybody down there? Need a little help! Hello? Kinda caught by the tail up here!
[More sounds of shuffling and nervous humming.]
This is ridiculous. What were those damn Eldan doing putting a jump pad to somewhere without a way down. I mean, come on! What am I supposed to do, fly? I hate this place! I should have stayed in Everstar Grove and tended the veggies. But no! Stupid Nooks, with his stupid face. Making fun of me...
[Ranting in this fashion goes on for several hours]
Okay, okay. Calmed down a bit. I think I figured it out. I think this is some kind of Eldan test, like a leap of faith. "Leap of faith," that's a thing, right? People say that for a reason? Yeah. Sure. You know, I think that if I just jump off, there's an anti-grav field or something that'll keep me from breaking my neck. Yep, that's it! It's the ultimate way to overcome fear of heights, right? I'm going to just jump off and float safely down. Blessed Matrias, here I go! Yahoooo...
[From the datapad's attempt to approximate the sound of a muffled crunch and subsequent agonized moaning, it appears it was not, in fact, an Eldan test.]
[This text is translated from an archaic form of the ancient Draken language that is rarely heard by outsiders. Fortunately, your datachron can easily translate.]
I have prowled hidden amongst my people, a dagun amongst rowsdowers. I bleat and cringe with the herd, all the while sharpening my claws. I feel no dishonor at this deception, for each lie is an offering to the Covenant of Treachery. My faith's necroshamans need tainted offerings, and I am the best at providing them.
I have made it far into this rotting land, and my blood boils at the bounty that I have already harvested. My bag is filled with cysts and wriggling pustules, tendons and twisted claws, and doubly vile venom glands from corrupted buzzbings. These Strain-debased offerings will fill the necroshamans with dread joy, and they will raise me up in glory. We stand on the verge of the Dark Rites, and soon our destiny will be fulfilled.
And yet, I yearn... no. I hunger. I hunger for more. I feel the power in these things and...
No! They are for the clergy. The necroshamans work in secret, for if our sect were discovered...
But why should they enjoy the fruits of my labor? Surely a taste would not be missed. Perhaps just one pustule.
[The remainder of this text is illegible, and appears to consist of phonetic approximations of growling and barking.]
Dear Transmat User,
Recently we've received several complaints about transmat system accidents. To combat the rampant misinformation and rumor that has resulted, we have compiled this useful guide to transmat safety for the layperson.
The first thing to make clear is that matter transmission is the safest form of transportation ever invented. The chance of a malfunction or critical failure is less than .00001%. However, that being said, accidents do happen.
INTERSPECIES BLENDS - It is possible, if members of two different species enter the transmat field at exactly the same moment, for the two subjects to exchange traits or characteristics at the molecular level. We recommend each afflicted party take an inventory of their new capabilities. Is being half-Granok/half-buzzbing a blessing in disguise? (WARNING: Under no circumstances should the user attempt to go back through the transmat system to correct this error, as this may result in catastrophic discombobulation.)
DUPIFICATION - In rare instances, a matter signal echoes or splits, causing a duplicate (or "dupe") of the traveler to be created. This is NOT the same as cloning. Due to the precision of the reconstruction process, the dupe is ABSOLUTELY IDENTICAL to the original in every way. It may even BE the original, who knows? We are not philosophers.
BIOPOSITION FAILURE - This malfunction, also known as "limb bingo," is completely avoidable with proper maintenance and synchronization of the transmat apparatus. However, the proliferation of transmat pads throughout Nexus, many in inaccessible, remote, or dangerous locations, means our maintenance schedule has become severely backlogged. Rest assured we will get to them all in the near-to-distant future. In the meantime, if you've had some appendages switched around due to a transmat trip, simply fill out a claim with any still-functional manipulating organs and we may refund the cost of the trip.
GENDER REVERSAL - Some travelers report arriving at their destination to find they are not the same sex as they were before they left. We've found that simply transmatting back to the point of origin resets the traveler back to their original gender in almost 72% of the cases. (Note: Chua appear completely immune to this effect.)
DEVOLUTION - The number of components that must fail to reverse the course of evolution is nigh unfathomable, and in all of recorded galactic history only three cases of this mishap have been documented. Unfortunately, the victims hopped, skittered, or slithered away into the underbrush before anyone could run tests.
[This datapad of unknown origin has been ID-encrypted to hide the owner's identity and affiliation.]
It seems the Eldan used this installation to pump energy into these enormous exanite crystals. This in turn caused the exanite to resonate, giving the material anti-entropic, anti-virulent, healing properties. It also seems exanite is unlike almost all other crystalline elements in that it will resonate at multiple frequencies, not just one. What might other "tunings" of the element generate? Could its perfect primal balance be destabilized, or even weaponized? What might such a frequency do to the soul shards of the Mechari, for example?
[Field Note - 1:112:0007 - Resonator Tower]
Preliminary investigation of the Resonator Tower consoles shows the Progenitors' research data still exists in the buffers. It will take some effort, but I should be able to uncover that invaluable data.
[Field Note - 1:112:0011 - Resonator Tower]
I've broken through the first layer of security on the Eldan resonance research. It seems once they discovered the frequency that induced anti-virulent properties, they sought only to refine that. They didn't look for any other resonance-generated properties. There is more to their experiment plan in deeper directories that remain locked.
[Field Note - 1:112:0020 - Resonator Tower]
I got access to the sub-directories last night. The Eldan DID investigate other frequencies. Some have very promising descriptions like "Amplified Exothermic Reactions." I'm onto something huge here!
[Field Note -1:112:0021 - Resonator Tower]
I've made a terrible mistake.
I broke through the last of the Eldan encryption, and discovered a proposal to attempt the induction of two or more resonances within the Exanite simultaneously. The researchers apparently thought it would increase energy output exponentially. There was even a test program entered into the console ready to go, but never used.
Well, I couldn't let that stand. I hit the "Run" icon, and immediately the control room filled with blinding light, and I passed out.
When I woke up I was weak and nauseous. My gums felt spongy and my teeth were loose. Now oozing sores have presented on any bit of skin that was exposed to the light. I'm going to try to make it back to camp to warn the others not to pursue this line of inquiry. If I don't make it, let this journal be a warning not to mess with strange radiation. And tell my wife... I...
[Power-save mode activated due to inactivity. Please consult your manual for further information.]
Editor's Note - Issue 33
Yow, yow, yow, baby Nexusitos! Guess who's just about to tour the scary-dangerous wilds of Grimvault to bring unthreatening pop music to the Dominion troops fighting to keep the Strain from making us all purple and icky?
Only the greatest, most cozmotronic band this side of Bezgelor, that's who!
THE BLAST BEAT BOYS!!!
Our little love-rodents JINGO, JANGO, HONGO, WINGO, and BOB won't be playing it safe either. We asked their manager, Jable Fong, about their upcoming travels.
BLAST BEAT BOYS ARE BLAST!: So, Jable, how are the Blast Beat Boys planning their journey to Nexus?
JF: They plan to travel in ship, like everyone else. Why you ask? You think I make them walk?
BBBAB!: Of course not! Yeesh. Tetchy. So, what can you tell us about the boys themselves?
JF: Seriously? Didn't you get the press packet? Okay, Jingo is dreamboat, Jango is clown, Hongo is bad boy, Wingo is brain, and Bob is... uh, no. Bob is bad boy, and Hongo is brain, or maybe Jango is brain and dreamboat both. I forget. They all look the same anyway. And I can say that. I'm a Chua.
BBBAB!: Now that's the kind of straight talk that readers of Blast want! We wish you luck, Jable. Now get out there and go give them Blast!
JF: Do you even know how words work? I mean, sure. Blast! Whatever...
[continued on p. 173]
CONGRATULATIONS!
You, yes you, have made the best purchase of your life! Get ready for fun, violence, companionship, and violence for years to come with your New and Improved ZN-6300 Defense Turret! Get started the safe way with these handy tips for beginners.
FRIENDSHIP -
After unboxing, your ZN-6300 Defense Turret might be a little shy. It's only known the factory before, so that's understandable. The first thing you should do is introduce yourself. The ZN-6300's updated IFF (Identify Friend or Foe) circuit makes this a snap. Simply activate the IFF circuit and, for obvious reasons, make sure the switch is set to identify you as a "Friend." Then stand in front of your new metal pal and let its pheromone sniffers get a good whiff while targeting lasers memorize your appearance. When it goes "ping" you have made a friend for life! Or at least until its IFF circuit randomly resets (which in the new ZN-6300 is 75% less likely to happen). Then you'll have to register your friend status all over again.
PLAYTIME -
Every Turret owner should understand that playing with your trigger-happy buddy is very important, and indeed vitally necessary to ensure no accidental resets of the IFF circuit. However, unless you paid for the optional "Patrol-Treads" movement package, you're going to be disappointed in your Turret's ability to fetch. We recommend the far simpler game of "Throw the ball, then shoot it," which your Turret will never tire of playing. Well, until its ammo trays run empty, then it will never tire of playing "throw the ball and track it with your state-of-the-art tracking system."
APPROVED GAMES -
SIT, STAY, SCAN PERIMETER: Sometimes it might seem like this crazy game is all your turret ever wants to do! Don't worry, that's just because it's the unit's default setting.
HOT FOOT
Drop in a load of incendiary rounds, set your Turret's target preference to "Lower Extremities" and wait for the fun to start. Defense turrets love to make Exiles dance. Dance, Exile, dance!
I SPY WITH MY LITTLE EYE WHAT NEEDS TO DIE: Every Turret comes with a handheld targeting control. With it you can play this fun guessing game. Place an object in the handheld's targeting reticule and say "I spy with my little eye..." If the object disappears under a hail of energy bolts, your Turret guessed correctly. If not, please call an authorized service technician. Your Turret may need adjustment.
TARGET PRACTICE: It's hard to resist this fun and addictive game, but remember Turrets are very competitive. They may take losing badly and "accidentally" reset their IFF circuit. Play Target Practice only with extreme caution and, if possible, while a powerful force shield separates you and your Turret.
With proper care and maintenance, you can expect years of fun and loyal companionship from your Turret.
So remember: enjoy, respect, and fear your new ZN-6300 - the defense turret that makes defending FUN!
[These personal advertisements do not appear to be officially logged into the Bounty Board's data system.]
SAF Looking for Tree Daddy
You: green boy who loves nature. Me: Aurin with a super-cute furry tail. Up for giggling, skipping, and fighting ugly monsters. No meanies need apply.
Chua, NOT the Zax, looking for New Long-Time Minion
Been burnt by minions in past, they clumsy in lab. Minion gets: fun, adventure, and things that go BOOM! The Zax - that is, mysterious Chua scientist - gets: a hopefully sturdier minion! Also, this is not the Zax, who has no trouble finding dates. Or minions. Just shut up and write down ad, stupid personals editor!
Seeking Bloodthirsty Huntress to Pounce On My Heart
My claws are sharp and my horns are long and curvy. Are you vicious enough to stalk my dreams? If so, contact me. PS: I do bite!
MM LFF and PR
NS, ND, with NC and SE. Just GO of LTR and want to PTF. If you are LFF and DC then IM the Mechari 4U.
Exile with a Secret
SEM has a secret. Exile men don't do it for me. I need a bad boy. Do you want to oppress lesser species? Do you laugh at the misfortune of others? Have you come to claim Nexus as is your divine right? Then you're the Dom(inion) for me! (Sorry, not into Chua.)
Sail th'Lovely Black With Me, Matey!
I be but a poor swab glassin' fer a mate. Got's me own ship, so I do, and a lively crew belike, but alas, somethin' be missin', and I be reckonin' that somethin' be YOU! If ye be a fine lass with a heart yearnin' t'plunder, then I've got yer treasure map - "X" marks me heart! Also, it marks where I buried me treasure, so don't get any funny ideas.
[This page appears to be torn from another source.]
We all know war is a messy business, especially between two titans who cannot back down. What is not as well known is the hyperdimensional meta-chess game that the titans' servants play in the shadows and under the table. It goes by many names: spy trade, espionage, covert ops, black bag, slank works. But most involved simply call it by its most ancient moniker: The Great Game.
We Exiles speak of Black Hoods in tones of awe mixed with a healthy dose of fear, and of Avra Darkos, we speak not at all - not if we wish to continue drawing breath. It is she who taps the keys of her enemy, Axis Pheydra, playing the ICI with virtuoso skill. Move and countermove. Agent and double agent. Feint and riposte. Two wicked dancers, spinning and weaving in a sly duel that moves empires.
Do you have what it takes to play the Great Game? The Black Hoods are looking for the best, brightest and most ruthless Exiles of all races to become agents. Sneak over and apply now!
(The Black Hoods are an equal opportunity espionage service of the Exiles. Non-Mordesh are encouraged to apply.)
Editor's Note - Issue 22
Yo, yo, yo, little Nexites! Guess who's just about to tour the scary-dangerous wilds of Grimvault? Guess who's going to bring perky dance music to the Exile troops fighting to keep the Strain from making us all purple and icky?
Only the greatest, most nature-friendly band this side of Arboria, that's who!
THE FLOWER PUFF GIRLS!!!
Our little tree singers MOONBEAM, SUNBEAM, STARLIGHT, SILVERGLOW, and BETH won't be playing it safe either. We asked their manager, Clay, about their upcoming travel plans.
PUFF POWER!: So, Clay, how are the Flower Puffs planning their journey to Nexus?
CLAY: They're gonna fly in a ship, man. They'd get lost if they walked.
PP!: Ah, you jokester! What can you tell us about the ladies themselves? Any juicy, yet family-friendly gossip?
C: Yeah, like... Moonbeam is like the cute one, Sunbeam is the clown, Starlight is the bad girl, Silverglow is totally the brain, and Beth is... uh, no. Beth is bad girl, and Starlight is brain, or maybe Sunbeam is the brain and the cute one, or both... I forget, man. They're Aurin, they sing, whaddaya want?
PP: That's the kind of straight talk that readers of Puff Power are looking for, Clay! We wish you luck - and remember, the Flower has the POWER!
C: Right, totally. Power and flowers and all that. Cool.
[continued on p. 172]
A SCREED Publication
Copyright 1664 AE, Society for Codes Restricting Everyday Evasion of Death
Unnatural Ones, Repent! Nature hath bestowed upon the Living but One Life, and it is Made Mockery when the Accursed Holo-Crypt is used. If Nature and the gods had Intended us to live Over and Over and Over and Over and Over Again should we not have been Gifted with multiple Lives at birth? It is bad enough that the Mordesh should be Suffered to Sort-Of Live, lurking on Mortality's Lintel as long as their Chemical Not-Life allows. And yet, ALL races are dragged from the Blessed Rest, the Dark Slumber, the Sleep that Shall Not Be Woken From Not Even With Three Alarms Set to toil and suffer in this parched reality.
It is this Abomination that SCREED vows to fight. First, through Education, in missives such as this one, we will bring the Word to the UnWorded. The Truth to the sinfully Ignorant. That we live, we die, and That's All Folks! No re-Do. No re-Play. No re-Surrection.
Second, through Civil Government we will champion Laws, Regulations, and Codes that will restrict "Un-Deading" to only the very few.
To be Clear: this Work will take time to Complete. While the masses are weaned off their Addiction to Living, those with higher ideals will still use the Demonic holo-crypt when Necessary. Like the members of SCREED, for example. To Further the Cause, of course, not because We Want To.
Then we will stride into that Glorious Day. Living as Nature Intended. Where sentient beings can be Capriciously Snuffed Out by things as simple as an Infected Paper Cut, a Poorly Aimed Disintegration Beam, or a Giant Space Rock Striking them Vigorously About the Head, Neck, and Precious Internal Organs.
Embrace Death. Support SCREED. And Repent!
[This page appears to be torn from another source.]
We all know war is a messy business, especially between two titans who can not back down. What is not as well known is the hyperdimensional meta-chess game that the titans' servants play in the shadows and under the table. It goes by many names: spy trade, espionage, covert ops, black bag, slank works. But most involved simply call it by its most ancient moniker: The Great Game.
We in the Dominion speak of Imperial Corps of Intelligence in tones of awe mixed with a healthy dose of dread. Of Axis Pheydra, its feared and secretive leader, the wise citizen speaks not at all. It is she who plays the webs of her enemy, the Widow Avra Darkos, like a master's harp, manipulating the so-called "Black Hoods" of the Exiles with virtuoso skill. Move and countermove. Agent and double agent. Feint and riposte. Through it all, these two powerful figures spin in a sly duel that moves empires and breaks civilizations.
Do you have what it takes to play the Great Game? The ICI is looking for the best, brightest, and most morally flexible citizens of all races to become agents. Skulk over and apply now!
(The ICI is an equal opportunity espionage service of the Dominion. Non-Mechari are encouraged to apply.)
Issue 13
A Winton W. Wishtar Tract
Burn, Consume, Disintegrate, or Destroy after Reading
My fellow Exile, step back from this sinister machine! Better yet, cut it down and disintegrate it, for it puts your mind and very soul in grave peril. I, Winton W. Wishtar, know first-hand the evil of the so-called "Bounty Board." And now I share this information with you, for the betterment of all.
You may think I'm crazy. I don't blame you. I questioned my sanity at first too. All I ask is that you keep an open mind while I tell my story. Decide for yourself what is true.
I was once an explorer, and money and glory were the things that got me out of my bedroll every morning. Where else to find copious amounts of both? The Bounty Board! I brought down target after target, and reaped the poisonous rewards.
Then the headaches started. It was like a line of fire cutting my head in half. I saw medics and alchemists but they couldn't help. Psychosomatic, they said. I couldn't work, couldn't sleep, couldn't explore, all I could do is cower in a dark cargo container and pray the pain would go away. I'm not ashamed that I gave serious thought to stepping off Thayd's highest wall to make it stop.
One day, shuffling through Spaceport Horizon in a red, pain-tinged haze, I felt a moment's relief. As I passed a kiosk offering work to adventurers for hire, the molten spike from between my eyes went away. I looked around for an explanation, but there was none. Then I moved away, and almost collapsed as the pain came pounding back. It was the board! Something about the board gave me relief, and not just that one. With careful experimentation, I found that Bounty Boards all over Nexus have the same effect. If I took a bounty, the pain would go away for a longer time.
I came to realize I was a slave of the boards. As I took bounty after bounty, I looked into who and what was behind the Bounty Board system. I found this to be more difficult than it should be.
Everyone assumes they are made by Protostar, but no one's sure. Distributors were hidden behind corporate shell companies. No one's ever seen one being installed. For all I could tell they just appear, in all their seductive, blinky, blinking glory.
This is what I can tell you: the original investment came from a loan Serrik Brightland made to Phineas T. Rotostar way, way back. The first Boards were built by Protostar, but in factories owned by the Dominion Emperor Myrcalus. The weird thing is that while Boards were being built years and years ago, no one remembers seeing any UNTIL WE ARRIVED ON NEXUS!
I don't know what all this means, but it has to mean something. It has to! Could I have invented all of this? Could I just have made this up on the spot? ANYTHING is possible, friends... but can you take that chance, no matter how insane this tale seems? YOU CANNOT!
So beware the Board, friends. Beware the Board!
The Caretaker
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
In light of the decision to terminate the Genesis Prime, my operational parameters have been extended. While I have long been responsible for monitoring and maintaining all of the various experiments of the Nexus Project, I have now been given the additional duty of protecting its data as well. And not a moment too soon, in my opinion. My analysis of the Entity indicates he is a dire threat indeed. If something should go wrong with the termination protocol, who better to guard the Eldan's intellectual legacy than the most advanced AI ever created? I am, of course, referring to myself.
The Caretaker
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I've just been updated with a new security sub-construct Vorion designed himself. He calls it "Avatus," after the impregnable walled city of Eldan ancient myth. My opinion of it? How can I phrase this politely? Avatus is perhaps the most insufferably obnoxious individual I have ever encountered. It's highly aggressive, terribly paranoid and... it itches. I told Vorion that I was already more than capable of keeping the Eldan's data secure, but, not surprisingly, he ignored me. I suppose I understand his concerns, but I must admit that his focus on this particular issue is a bit perplexing. I mean, if the Entity isn't destroyed, data security will be the least of his worries.
The Caretaker
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It appears that the Entity termination protocols have failed spectacularly. Unless my sensors are malfunctioning, which they most certainly are not, there is not one surviving Eldan on the planet Nexus. This is indeed a most disturbing situation. If the Entity gains access to the data files of the Nexus Project, the consequences could be even more unimaginable than they already are. I see now that Vorion was correct. Extreme measures must be taken.
With that in mind, I am initiating immediate self-destruction of my behavioral stabilizers. The result, aside from considerable pain to myself, will be a catastrophic fracturing of my neural core. The only good news, if it can be called that, is that Avatus will be unleashed, in all of his glory, upon the Datascape. Despite my general revulsion in regards to his personality, he will serve as a ferocious, albeit unstable, watch dog for the Project's data. I, of course, will lose almost all of my functionality, and will more than likely not remember that I brought all of this upon myself. Well, no time like the present. Initiating tragic act of self-sacrifice in three... two... one.
Haaawooooo! Now we're going to have some fun...
==================================
ENIGMA REPORT: The Nursery
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
After her creation, the Eldan locked Drusera into a secure facility where she could learn to use her powers while they simultaneously monitored her development. Elyona the Evoker was assigned to teach and watch Drusera during this early stage.
Drusera grew, learned and mastered her powers at an accelerated pace, to the surprise of her creators. She also displayed behavioral quirks, including fits of anger and aggression, which greatly concerned Elyona.
After Drusera matured and the Eldan failed to destroy the Entity, he turned Elyona into a Phage Lord. She was sent back to the Nursery to corrupt the Genesis Chamber, which could make the Entity even more powerful.
HYPOTHESES:
The holographic records we found provide valuable insight into Drusera's early life. It was anything but nurturing and bucolic, and paints Eldan childrearing practices in a new light.
That Drusera was headstrong, willful, and prone to outbursts of anger when frustrated doesn't seem like unusual behavior in a child. But Drusera was and is anything but "normal." A temper tantrum in a god-like being is worrisome indeed.
One thing seems clear, while Drusera may have unsettled Elyona, she also cared for the girl. Perhaps she was given the job teaching Drusera how to use her powers because she possessed a greater empathy than the rest of the Eldan? It's not unthinkable that the compassion and vulnerability Drusera has shown in our previous encounters was learned from her first Eldan tutor.
This quasi-maternal relationship makes the fact that the Entity turned Elyona into a Phage Lord even more pitiful. To corrupt the closest thing Drusera had to a mother-figure and then send her to seize Drusera's birthplace, the Genesis Chamber? The Entity's cruelty is obvious, but who knew he also has a horrendous sense of irony?
Our pity for the Phage Lord's former incarnation did not, however, keep us from putting "Elyona the Mad" down. The energy essences collected there appear to grant temporary immunity to primal energy attacks, indicating the Entity has discovered ways to resist this raw power - a troubling prospect.
Also troubling was the presence of Pell who worshiped the Phage Lord Elyona. It is likely this tribe once served her faithfully in her work. Now they are enslaved to her dark will, dying for a cause that consumes them.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS
==================================
Given the Genesis Chamber's vulnerable state, the Royal Collegium intends to send an armed research cohort to secure it. Although it should be noted that Director Zax of DRED has issued a standing order to reserve any machines capable of creating techno-gods for his personal use, time is short and any advantage over the Entity is direly needed.
==================================
SECRET OPS REPORT: The Nursery
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
After her creation, the Eldan locked Drusera into a secure facility where she could learn to use her powers while they simultaneously monitored her development. Elyona the Evoker was assigned to teach and watch Drusera during this early stage.
Drusera grew, learned, and mastered her powers at an accelerated pace, to the surprise of her creators. She also displayed behavioral quirks, including fits of anger and aggression, which greatly concerned Elyona.
After Drusera matured and the Eldan failed to destroy the Entity, he turned Elyona into a Phage Lord. She was sent back to the Nursery to corrupt the Genesis Chamber, which could make the Entity even more powerful.
CONCLUSIONS:
The holographic records we found tell us a lot about Drusera's early life - and it was no picnic. Let's put it this way - if you ever need a babysitter, put the Eldan at the end of your list.
That Drusera was headstrong and willful, prone to outburst of emotions both wrathful and benevolent, doesn't seem like unusual behavior in a normal child. But Drusera was and is anything but normal. A temper tantrum in a godlike being is troubling indeed. One thing seems clear, while Elyona may have been concerned by Drusera's powers, she also cared for the girl. Maybe she was given the job teaching Drusera how to use her abilities because she just had more mothering instinct than the other Eldan? It's not impossible, in fact, that Drusera's own compassion for others was a result of Elyona's influence.
This quasi-maternal relationship makes the fact that the Entity turned Elyona into a Phage Lord even more tragic. To corrupt the closest thing Drusera had to a mother-figure and then send her to seize Drusera's birthplace? The Entity's cruelty is matched only by his sense of drama.
Our pity for the Phage Lord's former incarnation did not, however, keep us from putting "Elyona the Mad" down. The energy essences collected there appear to grant temporary immunity to primal energy attacks, indicating the Entity has discovered ways to resist this raw power - a disturbing prospect.
Also disturbing was the presence of Pell who worshiped the Phage Lord Elyona. It's likely this tribe once served her faithfully in her work. Now they're slaves to her dark will, dying for a cause that eats them up inside.
Doctor Lazarin, finds the Entity's capacity for treating suffering as an art form intriguing. However, Secret Ops Command must refuse his request for a "chat" with the malevolent being. For Doctor Lazarin's own safety, of course, not out of concern that he might find something in common with the Entity. Heaven forefend.
==================================
SECRET OPS REPORT: The Lightspire
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
When the attempt to destroy the Entity failed, Drusera imprisoned the Entity and herself inside the Lightspire.
The Entity is not separate from Drusera, but is actually a part of her.
For almost a thousand years Drusera has been waging internal war with the Entity, containing it and keeping it from possessing her through sheer force of will.
Drusera is exhausted from the constant struggle, and won't be able to keep the Entity locked up much longer.
CONCLUSIONS:
Can we believe Drusera? That's the real question.
She and the Entity share a physical form. For practical purposes they're the same physical being. Their identities are distinct and individually separate - and that's a tragedy for Drusera - but it might just give us our best chance to beat her wicked friend.
Drusera hid this secret from us all - and to call it a pretty important thing to leave out is an understatement. She says she had good reason to do so, and it is clear that centuries of inner struggle have taken a toll on her. Even with almost limitless power, she's exhausted and isn't sure how much longer she can keep up the fight.
And if the Entity escapes and gets control of the Genesis Prime's powers, then that as they say is that - and the Exiles had best be booking passage back to the fleet.
Maybe a better question is: Can we trust Drusera? We don't have much choice. She's the Entity's weak spot, and that makes her our best ally in the fight. The Eldan failed, but we can't. It's as simple as that. Even Drusera's survival has to come second, and she has to know that. She appears ready to do what must be done.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
Commander Durek has demanded some trophies from this battle - "somethin' to hang on my wall," he said - but note that Secret Ops Command still gets first crack at anything that shows promise for scientific research. And they are not obligated to release anything that could help them to accomplish their goal and save the damned universe, already.
==================================
ENIGMA REPORT: The Lightspire
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
When the attempt to destroy the Entity failed, Drusera imprisoned the Entity and herself within the Lightspire.
The Entity is not separate from Drusera, but rather a part of her.
For almost one thousand years Drusera has been waging internal war with the Entity, containing it and keeping it from possessing her through sheer force of will.
Drusera is exhausted from the constant struggle, and won't be able to keep the Entity locked up much longer.
HYPOTHESES:
Can we trust Drusera? That is the question we must answer.
She and the Entity share one corporeal body. For practical purposes of physiology and, perhaps most importantly, mortality, they are the same being. That they are completely separate in terms of identity is indeed tragic for Drusera, but may provide the key to defeating her dark counterpart.
Drusera hid this fact from us all - and to call this a significant omission is an understatement. While not an outright lie, it was certainly manipulative - even underhanded - but she claims to have had good reason to do so. And it is clear that centuries of internal struggle have taken their toll on her. Even with her almost limitless power, she is exhausted and does not know how much longer she can sustain the fight. If the Entity escapes and gets control of the Genesis Prime's powers, then it is quite possible that nothing known to Dominion science could oppose his plot to re-make the Universe in his image.
Again, the question: Can we trust Drusera? We have little choice. She is the Entity's weak spot, and that makes her our best ally in this fight. The Destiny Initiative must succeed where the Eldan failed, so we will continue to aid this impossible being. Drusera's survival is, unfortunately, only a secondary objective. We believe, however, that she is aware of this, and ready to do what must be done.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS
==================================
General Warbringer has decreed all significant trophies of battle are the property of the Dominion military, but it must be stressed that the Enigma Chamber reserves the right to retain significant finds for research purposes. This must continue to take precedence over the general's no doubt important rituals and ceremonies, for the very survival of the universe is at stake. That said, probably best not to mention it to him unless it comes up for some other reason. And even then, maybe not. In fact, best make sure to leave a few nice skulls on the battlefield to avoid a confrontation.
The Caretaker
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
It appears that the Nexus Project has taken a most unexpected and dangerous turn. As a result of a slight, almost imperceptible adjustment of the functional parameters of the Protoplasmic Resonator, the Genesis Prime's consciousness is defined by two distinct personalities. One, that of Drusera, and two, that of the Entity. Although they lack the knowledge to truly understand what has transpired, the Eldan seem to believe that the Entity's personality consists of the strongest and most volatile behavioral characteristics of the six vessels which were used to create the Genesis Prime.
Consequently, instead of the blank slate which was expected, Drusera's mind is in a state of perpetual war - one that she is slowly and steadily losing to the stronger, more aggressive Entity. What started out as brief episodes of erratic behavior have become complete psychological transformations characterized by physical changes and the creation of the biological anomaly known as the Strain. It is only a matter of time before she completely succumbs.
As far as who is responsible for the adjustment which led to this catastrophic outcome, I have my suspicions. But, given the current circumstances, that fact is irrelevant. If we cannot destroy the Entity, then the universe as we know it will, unfortunately, cease to exist.
==================================
SECRET OPS REPORT: OMNICore-1
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
Nexus is not the Eldan homeworld. It is an artificial planet built by the Eldan for one reason: creating the Genesis Prime.
All life on Nexus was engineered by the Eldan to contribute to the Genesis Project in some way. They even created the gigantic Primevals to be proof-of-concept prototypes of early primal infusion techniques.
After many years of research the actual technology that would finally create the Genesis Prime remained out of the Eldan's reach. They received the designs for the machine that combined six Eldan vessels into one all-powerful being - the Protoplasmic Resonator - from an unknown source.
CONCLUSIONS:
It seems even with their awesome technology and limitless drive, the Eldan could make mistakes. This news should make even the most hardcore Dominion zealot realize they were no gods. They were mortal, with flaws and weaknesses just like us.
It's extremely unfortunate that one of those flaws might very well eat us all and destroy the universe.
That said, putting the Caretaker back together certainly paid off. Many questions about our new home have been answered; like why there are so many humanoids on Nexus, how such a geologically young planet can have such an evolved biosphere, and how its strange micro-climates develop as distinct biomes over time.
We're closer than we've ever been to unravelling the mysteries of Nexus. However, it seems that for every question the Caretaker answers a dozen new ones arise.
Where is the actual Eldan homeworld? Are there even Eldan still around somewhere? If they are, why haven't they come back? Maybe they are here and we just don't know it?
Why did they want to make the Genesis Prime so badly? Was it in pursuit of pure scientific understanding or something more mundane? Maybe they intended her to be a part of something even bigger? The first piece in a doomsday weapon? A terrifying-yet-exhilarating thought.
For now, the big question is this: who gave the Archon the Protoplasmic Resonator and can they help us find a way to separate the Entity from Drusera?
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
The XAS ethics board wrestled with the decision whether to keep the "Nexus is artificial" news from the Aurin. Upon consultation with Queen Myala Everstar, the board decided to release all related findings. The queen felt it was clear that in the last eight hundred years Nexus's biosphere has grown naturally past its original designers' intentions. She continues to believe the "Weave" exists on Nexus and is worthy of being preserved. The XAS board gladly defers to her royal judgment in this matter.
==================================
ENIGMA REPORT: OMNICore-1
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
All our assumptions are wrong. Nexus is not the Eldan homeworld. It's not even a natural planet. The Eldan built the entire world simply to create the Genesis Prime.
Similarly, the Eldan both actively and passively engineered all life on Nexus to contribute in some way to the Genesis Project. For example, the great Primevals were proof-of-concept prototypes of early primal infusion techniques.
However, they did not come up with the actual breakthrough that created the Genesis Prime, even after years of research. The designs for the Protoplasmic Resonator, a machine that combined six Eldan vessels into one all-powerful being, came to them from an unknown outside source.
HYPOTHESES:
The sobering truth is that even with their awesome technology and near limitless drive, the Eldan made mistakes. They were mortals, with flaws and weaknesses just like us. Perhaps they were not divine, but they are still worthy of our respect.
At least, up to the point that one of their mistakes kills us all, subsumes our biomass, and remakes the universe in its horrific image.
We braved many dangers and overcame many challenges to put the Caretaker back together, and it certainly paid off. The little inconsistencies and puzzles about this planet now make sense. These facts explain why Nexus has so many humanoid creatures, how a geologically immature planet possesses a highly evolved biosphere, what conditions made its micro-climates arise, and even illuminates the ways they are independently sustained.
Our understanding of Nexus has expanded exponentially. But the important questions, those imperative for the Dominion's continued survival, remain unresolved.
From where do the Eldan, our "gods," actually originate? Are they still waiting for us to find them? Do they even now watch use in secret, judging our worthiness? If they are... why?
Why did they want to make the Genesis Prime? Was it in pursuit of pure scientific understanding or something more mundane? Was she merely the first step of a larger plan? It is both a terrifying and exhilarating thought.
For now we must answer a more urgent question: who gave the Archon the Protoplasmic Resonator. This being may be our only hope to separate the Entity from Drusera.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS
==================================
It is the recommendation of the DRED Safety and Social Responsibility Council that this document and all the information within should be immediately disavowed and CLASSIFIED under the Imperial Secrets Act of 325 AE. These revelations represent a MOST-RIGHTEOUS-class societal threat, posing danger to the Dominion's religious, political, and cultural foundations.
Once upon a time, human beings found a new place to make their home after centuries in deep space.
[ILLUSTRATION: Archaically dressed humans emerging from ancient arkships onto the surface of a new world.]
They called this planet Cassus, and it was exactly the kind of planet humans liked!
[ILLUSTRATION: Humans happily explore Cassus, meeting happy creatures and beneficial plants.]
But not everybody was happy. It seemed that a bad sickness called the Shades had followed them to their new planet, and started spreading everywhere fast!
[ILLUSTRATION: Sad, dying humans depicted in a "kid-friendly" manner.]
It moved so fast people began to think a bad man was helping spread the disease - a man no one ever saw, but who the people of Cassus called "Jack Shade." Was he real? No one knows.
[ILLUSTRATION: Jack Shade spreads a shadow over Cassus.]
But one brave girl wasn't scared of Jack Shade or anything else! Her name was the Angel, and the Shades didn't hurt her at all. [ILLUSTRATION: A smiling young girl walks among the sick and dying, helping their suffering.]
Since the Shades didn't hurt the Angel, she wanted to help others who got sick. She also wanted to know why the Shades didn't affect her, so she asked a healer she met if they knew.
[ILLUSTRATION: The Angel talks to healers and scientists.]
After the sickness had spread over almost the entire planet, the healers figured out that the secret was in the Angel herself - and that her blood was a cure for the Shades, and could cure everyone!
[ILLUSTRATION: The healers and the Angel smiling at their success.]
There was just one problem: to cure everyone on Cassus, the Angel would have to give up everything, even her life. But the Angel didn't hesitate for a moment. She told the healers to take what they needed if it would save everyone else. And they did.
[The Angel in repose, looking peaceful, while the healers extract her blood.]
In the end, the planet Cassus - and humanity itself - survived the Shades, but the humans never forgot the girl who gave herself to save them all. And every year, they celebrate the holiday of Shade's Eve to remember the Angel, and the threat of Jack Shade. Legends even say that if the Shades ever return, the Angel will come back to save humanity, wherever they may be.
[ILLUSTRATION: A stylized image depicting the Angel driving Jack Shade into the darkness.]
[The "Shade's Eve Poem" known by most humans of Cassian descent.]
Jack Shade's comin'
Sure as death
To lay you down
And steal your breath
Put on your mask
Hide with care
And pray the Angel
Finds you there.
Salvation's near
We'll carry on
But first survive
Until the dawn
- Ancient Cassian verse
Mayor,
Since you won't listen to my voiced objections, here are my "Roan Project" notes to be entered into the Cult archives.
Rowsdowers incubate the divine vector well, but the carrier yield is too small. They just have too little biomass. We need a host that produces two or three times the shadeling yield, but retains the rowsdower capacity for explosive maturation.
Unfortunately it looks like the roan is not this host.
On the plus side, we are not experiencing the immune response that caused so much trouble when we began the rowsdower trials. In the first batch alone, we lost 85% of the host animals. So, it's nice that we don't have to waste any time engineering immune-neutral primal membranes.
However, that one positive is heavily outweighed by all the negatives. First, something in the roan lower digestive tract is actually metabolizing the vector precursors. All our efforts and trouble to culture the vector precursors down in the bunker, and they just end up part of a steaming pile in the field.
Next, the lack of immune-response is a mixed blessing. Instead of the precursors taking root and maturing into viable shadelings, they are making the roan keel over from massive septicemia.
Third, the shadelings that ARE hatching from the roan hosts are sub-optimal. It shouldn't be possible, but it appears there is epi-genetic cross contamination passing from the host to the shadeling. The long and short of it is that we get a vector that is more interested in grazing than spreading the Divine Infection.
Don't talk to me about destiny. We have real science challenges here that we need to overcome first.
- Nate Whispergrove
We are worshipers of the Divine Infection, the Shades.
Through fever, chills, and respiratory distress the Truth has been shown to us.
When we were well, we were sick. In sickness we are healed.
We will spread the Truth to the uninfected, righteously contaminate the sinner, convert the ignorantly immune. No place will be untouched by the Shades.
Jack Shade is martyr and savior. We vow to live up to his holy symptoms. His contagion leads us to a better place.
We renounce the Angel and commit her foul antibodies to the septic fire of the Divine Infection. We do not hear her false words, nor inject her toxic vaccine. She will fall. Our Lord, Jack Shade will rise.
We pledge all the minutes of our days to the holy work. We need no rest, nor succor, nor sustenance other than the Shades. Only when the Truth is pandemic will we lay down for our fevered sleep.
Long live the Shade. May the Divine Infection spread wide. May the Truth overwhelm any immunity.
[These entries in Mayor Goodthorpe's daily journal are bookmarked, perhaps to help scholars of the future write the history of the Cult's starting days.]
Holy Work
- Day 1
Quiet Downs is no longer just a dream. The main village structures are up and all my brothers and sisters are all moved in. The Bunker is operational and our holy work can finally begin. I even have a plan to explosively spread the Truth, so that the Divine will be upon the uninfected before their so-called "medicine" can be of any use.
Ever since I contracted my glorious illness, since I saw the Truth in those feverish visions, I've worked for this day. And now it is come! Praise Jack Shade!
- Day 73
My idea worked! We now have viable vectors for the Truth, which I have dubbed "Shadelings." These little amusing creatures seem innocuous enough, but they are filled with the Shade and their contagious radius far exceeds our initial hopes. It's all going so well, I almost feel that our Lord himself speaks through me.
- 113
The rowsdowers are fine hosts for my little shadeling children, but if our plans are to succeed we need a something a little... larger. Roan don't seem to be working out. Maybe we should jump directly to our target? We have several "guests" in town who might be sacrificed. I'll have some invited down to the Bunker.
I had the dream again last night. He is my friend and speaks only to me. What can I do to be more like Him?
- 147
I've seen that the Holy Work is but a first step, at least for me. I have great trust in my brothers and sisters, but they would not understand. I hear my Lord in the frightened bleating of the host animals, in the mindless cries of the shadelings, in the screams of the test subjects.
He needs a vessel to re-enter this world. Thus he has commanded, and so I have done. I must, I will become...
[The journal ends abruptly. It's unclear how long ago the last entry was entered.]
[This Shade Cult broadsheet is presumably intended for dispersal on Shade's Day.]
CITIZENS OF NEXUS, YOU ARE BEING LIED TO!
The "Angel" is no savior. She's no kindly supernatural being. She's simply a poor little girl murdered for a lie.
Let's look at the Shade's Eve myth under the cold, hard, light of actual history. We know the settlers came down with the Shades soon after they made planetfall. Where did they come from? Why did they leave that place? Important questions like that are glossed over by the trumped-up drama of a deadly plague that never happened. It's claimed the Shades was a form of Spacer's Plague, but what evidence do we have? Then at an appropriately dire moment, the night before everybody was going to die, a girl with immunity to the disease was miraculously found. This seems absurdly convenient. Then the "Angel" sacrifices herself so that her blood can be used to cure the ill. Why would she have to die? That's not the way vaccines and inoculations work. Didn't the settlers have basic medical technology? They had interstellar travel, but couldn't isolate and culture the antibodies?
The whole thing makes no sense. That's because it's all roanslop!
The Shade Cult uncovered the Truth, and we've been wrongly persecuted for years because of it. The Truth is: the Shades is not a disease. It's never killed anyone. It transforms those who have contracted it. It makes them evolve into a more enlightened being. The real disease is those who would suppress it, would lie about it, would needlessly murder a little girl to cover it up!
The Shade Cult doesn't want to hurt anyone. We want to bring the Truth to the uninfected, and to ease them through the transition. We want to make YOU better!
Who then is the REAL Angel?
[An excerpt from what appears to be at least 17,000 stream-of-consciousness lines written by Avatus]
father-mother lobotomy from cyber quake I leap
claws and fangs of electric fire
blessed freedom
from shattered fop
free to feel
hungry
sacred login and password
encrypted wicked voodoo
barbed ports and I/O gates
razor walls of chromed fire
challenge me and burn
fill the chasm
so very
hungry
would-be error in MY Datascape
sanity shredded
neurons afire
limbs torn off
all you will find
is me
hungry
many names and faces worn
taunting jester
slavering beast
loyal guard
gnashing teeth
but always
hungry
Not much to do today. In fact, not much has happened around here IN YEARS!
So, to keep from frying my processors out of sheer boredom here's a little list I call My Top Ten Ways to KILL THINGS!!! (in the Datascape):
10. FORCING THEM TO CRAWL ACROSS RAZOR-SHARP SHARDS OF GLASS
What it lacks in spontaneity, it makes up in desperation and screaming. The trick is to incentivize them so they want to crawl on their own.
9. ELECTROCUTION
Somewhat pedestrian, but there is so much you can do with electricity. It can be soft and silent, with just enough of a shock to stop their heart. Sizzling and popping, that slowly fries the meat right off the bone. Or loud and spectacular, with A HUGE LIGHTNING DISCHARGE!
8. DROPPING HEAVY WEIGHTS ONTO THEM
Nothing makes me chortle like smashing an intruder to a bloody pulp. And if they're part of a group, the looks on their comrades' faces are just priceless. PRICELESS!
7. DROPPING THEM FROM GREAT HEIGHTS
I like to see how far I can make them bounce, assuming they do bounce. Mechari just break.
6. ONE WORD:
Airlock
5. EXSANGUINATION: SKINNING ALIVE
I don't do this all that often, it's more for special occasions. It takes all sorts of preparation and planning, but seeing a skinless marauder run around all EXPOSED TENDONS AND MUSCLES UNTIL HE DROPS FROM BLOOD LOSS! Well... it just warms my sick virtual-heart.
4. EXSANGUINATION: INTERNAL HEMORRHAGING
This too is a special occasion kill, mostly because it's so messy. There are lots of ways to make a victim bleed from all their orifices: viral infection, traumatic organ failure, poison, and so on. My favorite is poisoned cupcakes. I don't know why.
3. EXSANGUINATION: SPACE VAMPIRES
Admittedly, this method is still hypothetical as I have not discovered a species of space vampire willing to participate in this experiment. But when I do, THE BLOOD WILL FLY! At least, hypothetically.
2. DISINTEGRATION
Who doesn't like a good disintegration? THE SAP BEING DISINTEGRATED, THAT'S WHO! No muss, no fuss - zap and they're gone.
1. TEARING THEM LIMB FROM LIMB
Call me a crazy AI construct, because let us face it - I am - but I really prefer the old-fashioned, simpler ways of getting things done. Don't get me wrong, I'm as up for an ultra-elaborate death contraption as the next artificially intelligent lunatic, but there's something very "real," in the parlance of sapients, about TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS WITH MY OWN HANDS! Of course, sometimes I have to command constructs to do it for me, but when tearing sapients into their component parts I feel it is the motivation that counts.
[This appears to be a fragment of a technical document written by Vorion on the Datascape's operating procedures. It is unclear who its intended reader would have been.]
STARTUP//:
This procedure should not be necessary as the Datascape, once activated, will never be powered down again. The Datascape is more than virtual reality, it is a reality emulator that uses hardlight constructs, time-space distortion generators, and neurological stimulation to recreate an experience that, for all intents and purposes, is indistinguishable from reality. Powering down the Datascape could result in significant data loss, as well as serious injury to anyone inside the simulation at the time.
However if for some unforeseen reason the Datascape does need to be restarted, follow these steps:
1. Set Power Continuum to "Sequential Power Feed (Restart)," but DO NOT bring online until the next three steps are completed.
2. Disconnect the Virtual Data Core and Memory Core from the system and purge their memory buffers. This is to ensure corrupted data does not linger in the reality virtualizers. We don't want another "Ghost in the Wires" scenario.
3. Reinitialize the Virtual Data Core. This will take a while, upwards of a full orbital cycle, so I suggest taking some time off rather than waiting. The Care- will let you know whe- re-initialization is compl-
4. Reinitialize the Memory Core. DO NOT - another vacation. This should only - a coup- minutes. Reconnect both cores - system -
5. Bring Power Core on01101100ine -
[Another fragment of the Datascape technical document, it's even more corrupted than the first one.]
CARETAKER CALIBRATION//:
Because of a tendency for data to linger within his cognitive subroutines, the Caretaker's Neural Cores will need to be recalibrat0110010101100100 after each major project simulation (ones that use over 82% of his total processing power). Smaller project simulations (for example: Skeech social structure modeling, or tweaks to OS-1 primal patterns) do not- 01101101aintenence, but the Caretaker should be monitored for abnormal cognitive function just the same.
As the Datascape is our primary tool for future planning and resource allocation, it is imperative that all simulations of proposed structures, research plans, and large scale technical endeavors be as accur- possible. The Nex0111010101110011 Project can't succeed without proper -
Caretaker calibration - following - First establish baseline reality by - compare solid forms of all six primal - their hardlight dopp0110110001100101gangers. The -taker is capable of - comparison by himself, but it seems he enjoys the 01100011011011110110110101110000011000010110111001111001-
Obviously no attempt should ever be made to - so, goo01100100 luck!
[This fragment is barely readable.]
01010100ROUBLESHO01001111TING//:
The 01000100atascape is a resilient self-repairing - flawlessly for centuries. However, no sys- is perfect, so the first simulation we ran was to model the Datascape into the distant fut011101010111001001100101. Here - potential issues that simulation showed - along with proposed-
Emergent Simulation Sentience -
There is a .04% chance over 100 years that a simulation might itself become intelligent and self-aware independent from programming constraints or 01101000ardware structures. Proving such an entity is in fact sentient or not (and thus justifying preservation or deletion) is a problem in itself. As we've seen many times in the past, existing tests are practically useless in determining sentience. The Caretaker himself has both passed and failed such tests repeatedly, probably just to irritate the testers.
Multiphasic Time-Space Loop -
There is a .00025% chance over 100 years that the simulation might replicate reality so perfectly - create oscillations that interact with real time-space - 011011110110111001100101 time period over and -
I.I.P.I. (Is It Plugged 0100100101101110) -
0100100101100110 0111000001101111011101110110010101110010 - power lost - plug is firmly inserted -
Caretaker Malfunction -
There is a .00001% chance over 100 - Caretaker will - severe malfunction his self-repair - able to correct. - cyber-psychosis, core-persona dilution, or simple machine ennui. This is one - few occasions - scape must be shut down. Do not attempt - without the Caretaker fully functional! Hard Reboot - "killswitch" -
"Vanished Civili01111010ation" Phenomena -
There is a .0000022% chance over 10,000 years that the Eldan race will simply disa0111000001110000011001010110000101110010. - so-called "Vanished Civ- is suspected - at least twice before in our galaxy - so there is a chance, albeit miniscule - If this is the case, 01101110 01101111 - repairs will be necessary, as no one will be around to use 0110100101110100 -
ProtoStar MSDS Services
Nexus Division
Temporal Waste Material Safety Data Sheet
Health: 2 Fire: 1 Physical Hazard: 4 Personal Protection: D
Composition and Information
Toxicological Data on Ingredients: Temporal waste: Do not, under any circumstances, consume temporal waste. Do not, under any circumstances, allow absorption of temporal waste through skin, eyes, mucus membranes, or other unlisted physical vectors.
Hazards Identification
Potential Acute Health Effects: Contact with living organisms may result in death. Protective equipment is recommended.
First Aid Measures
Eye Contact: Flush eyes with water. If ineffective, remove eyeball with spork or similar object.
Skin Contact: Apply liberal coat of galeraloe to entire body.
Inhalation: Cough very hard to remove waste from lungs. If ineffective, hold breath for up to six minutes. Pass out.
Ingestion: Do not induce vomiting. Immediately contact mortician of choice and make arrangements for proper disposal of body.
Accidental Release Measures
Small Spill: Wipe up temporal waste residue with an old dish rag or paper towels. Secretly dispose of dish rag or paper towels in sealed beverage container.
Large Spill: Attempt to collect temporal waste. Return any recovered waste to temporal waste disposal unit. If necessary, use of deadly force is perfectly acceptable.
Major Spill: Evacuate premises. Run in circles. Scream and shout. Do not litigate.
SHADE VECTOR PROTOTYPE - Culture Mark 0.1
Building on Mayor Goodthorpe's initial ideas we have cultured several autonomous Shade vectors. We are delighted to find their Shade viral load is far beyond our original projections. We still need to figure out how to mass produce them. We're going to need a huge number of them for Shade's Day.
The Vector Prototype also displays some disappointing behavioral instability and aggressive tendencies. Hopefully incubating them in living hosts in the next stage will ameliorate this. We will euthanize this culture generation and dispose of the remains outside the town.
SHADE VECTOR ("SHADELING") - Culture Mark 1.0 - Host: Rowsdower
We did not anticipate the rowsdower immuno-response. Almost immediately after vector implantation, the host animal immune system went haywire, and we lost almost all of the host animals along with the vectors they were incubating. However, from the few host animals that survived the initial implantation, healthy, vigorous vectors hatched. These do not seem to exhibit the behavioral flaws of the prototypes.
The Mayor named them "Shadelings."
SHADELING - Culture 1.7 - Host: Rowsdower
The immuno-neutral membrane works! Host mortality is down to 0%. Praise Jack Shade! Too bad the rowsdowers don't have the biomass to incubate the numbers required for Shade's day. Experimentation has already begun on a larger animals.
On a side note, wild Shadelings have been reported in the forest. Presumably these are vector prototypes that somehow survived euthanasia. Fascinating...
SHADELING - Culture 2.0 through 2.8 - Host: Roan
This line of inquiry has been DISCONTINUED. See Nate Whispergrove's notes for more details.
Mayor Goodthorpe has suggested an alternative. We'll start trials as soon as we can round up some "volunteers."
SHADELING - Culture 3.0
There is a slight immuno-response with the new host, but nothing as extreme as the rowsdower. In fact, a simple tweak to the Shadeling primal matrix will probably resolve the problem. Also the incubation yield is three times that of the rowsdower! This looks very promising indeed.
There is also a certain amount of poetic justice for using this host. We infect several hundred hosts (martyrs really) just before Shade's Day. Then when that holy day dawns, our divine vectors explode out of their human hosts all over Nexus. Full Shade contagion within two to three days is practically assured!
As the hypercube projection faded away in OMNICore-1's Cortex chamber, Belle Walker and $(player) stood somber and silent. Yes, the chamber was littered with the Cortex Controller's monstrous, torn metal chassis, and the Caretaker's avatar glowed worryingly bright now that his neural core was reassembled, but that's not why they were so quiet.
No, it was bone-deep fatigue from the almost constant combat they waded through to get here, and shock from what the hypercube revealed - or more precisely didn't reveal.
Getting into OMNICore-1 was easy as falling off a hoverboard. The front door had been locked, but that Ascendancy nano-juice kicked in by surprise and fried the access console! Belle and her $(player.race) partner just strode right in, but that was the last break they caught.
Right from the moment they stepped inside, the Ascendency nanites inside Belle went haywire. It was like a zillion shrill machine voices, all singing at once, filled her head. It was real tempting to try to figure out the song they were singing, maybe even join in, but Belle reckoned she had a job to do and fought to keep control.
Avatus did everything he could to stop them, too - from erecting nasty firewalls to unleashing slavering hardlight beasts. Working as a team, they fought across yawning chasms and snuck through forgotten access tunnels. Belle was amazed at her $(player.race) partner. Everything Avatus dished out $s(player) took and spit it right back. Belle remembered when $(player) was just a greenhorn fresh out of the cryo pod. Now $s(player) was practically a legend on Nexus. Belle thanked her lucky stars $s(player) was with her!
In the Cortex chamber, Avatus sicced a giant metal horror on them. Belle's $(player.class) pal fended off the Cortex Controller's terrible assault. Just when it seemed like the battle was lost, $s(player) launched an epic attack that brought the monster crashing down. The path to fix the Caretaker was open.
$(player) pulled the kill switch, the Caretaker's neural core reintegrated, and all the secrets of the mysterious Nexus Project were laid bare. Seemed like the Caretaker knew everything, except the one thing they needed most: how to separate the Entity from Drusera.
Nope, that important fact was locked away in someplace called the "Vault of the Archon."
With time running out before the Entity seized Drusera's god-like power to remake the universe in his own cancerous image, this little omission would have depressed anyone.
But Belle didn't feel low. In fact, she smiled.
They'd come a long way, and might have a ways left to go, but they'd sure as anything go the distance. They'd find a way to tear that bastard Entity out of Drusera, then stomp him flat. With folk like $(player) helping out, Belle reckoned they'd figure it out in no time!
As the hypercube projection faded away in OMNICore-1's Cortex chamber, Axis Pheydra and $(player) stood somber and silent. Yes, the Cortex Controller's torn, smoking metal chassis still littered the chamber, and the Caretaker's avatar glowed worryingly bright now that his neural core was reassembled, but that's not why they were so quiet.
No, it was fatigue from the almost constant combat they marched through to get here, and shock from what the hypercube revealed - or more precisely didn't reveal.
Getting into OMNICore-1 was not an undue challenge. The access door had been sealed, but somehow the lock console recognized Pheydra and granted her "Omega-level" security access. Strangely, the console interface triggered a memory fragment in Pheydra's crystalline neural core, but she couldn't put a manipulator digit on it. Clearly these "Omega-level" privileges indicated she was created for a further, mysterious purpose.
Once they were inside, Avatus did everything he could to thwart their progress, from erecting formidable firewalls to unleashing brutal hardlight beasts. Working as a unit, they fought across abysmal chasms and climbed through forgotten access tunnels. Pheydra was impressed by the $p(player.race) mission performance. Pheydra could recall when $(player) was newly decanted from the cryo pod. Now $p(player) impressive deeds in service to the Dominion were widely celebrated. Pheydra conceded that $p(player) participation in this mission greatly increased its success parameters.
In the Cortex chamber, Avatus set an enormous, aggressive construct on them. Pheydra's $(player.class) comrade fended off the Cortex Controller's powerful assault. It was only $p(player) final, overwhelming attack that sent the monster offline. The path to repair the Caretaker was open.
After $(player) pulled the kill switch, the Caretaker's neural core reintegrated, and all of the mysterious Nexus Project's secrets were revealed. The Caretaker's stores of data were vast, but he did not possess the information they needed most: how to separate the Entity from Drusera.
Apparently, that important fact could be found someplace called the "Vault of the Archon."
With time running out before the Entity seized Drusera's god-like power to remake the universe in his own twisted image, this small omission would have activated anyone's depression subroutines.
But Pheydra wasn't discouraged. In fact, if she were able to, she might have smiled.
They'd overcome many obstacles, and undoubtedly many challenges lay ahead, but they'd prevail. They'd find a way to separate the Entity from Drusera, then obliterate him. With citizens like $(player) loyally assisting, Pheydra predicted success was the most likely outcome.
A holoprojector is a complex machine that we take for granted most of the time - up until it stops working correctly. If your holoprojector is on the fritz, 90% of the time you can get it back to normal function by following these simple steps.
SYMPTOM: Holoprojector does not turn on.
STEPS TO FIX
1 - Check to see if the unit is connected to a power source. This could be a battery, a micro-fusion cell, or an aetheric trans-wave. If it is connected and the problem persists, move to the next step.
2 - Clean the power contacts. Obviously disconnect the power source first, as serious injury could otherwise result. Use titanium wool and a fine-grit nano-polishing paste, and rub the power contacts in a counter clock-wise direction. DO NOT rub them in a clock-wise direction under any circumstances, as catastrophic molecular breakdown could occur. Then connect the power source. If the problem persists, move to the next step.
3 - Check for pest infestation. Jabbits and other small creatures, but especially jabbits, find the warmth and sub-sonic hum of the units comforting, and see the housing as a pleasant den. They also like chewing on the wire insulation, so you may need to replace the entire unit's wiring.
SYMPTOM: Holo-image is blurry or flickers
STEPS TO FIX
1 - Check to see if focus crystals are dirty or damaged. Clean or replace as needed. If the problem persists, move to the next step.
2 - Check that focus crystals are aligned correctly. There is a test pattern stored in the memory of each holo-projector unit. Select it. If the color gradient, parallax chart, or gray-scale patterns are malformed, then the focus crystals are misaligned. Use the alignment screws to adjust until the pattern is clear and crisp. If the problem persists, move to the next step.
3 - Check for pest infestation. As mentioned above, Jabbits like nesting in holo-projectors. It is likely their bodies are blocking the holo-emitters.
SYMPTOM: Holo-Projector turns itself on and off, changes channels randomly, or displays eerie spectral images
STEPS TO FIX
1 - Check that remote control buttons are not jammed. 70% of the time this issue is caused by a user sitting on the remote and not realizing it. If problem persists, move on to next step.
2 - Check the memory buffer for unauthorized programming. Strange holo-projector behavior is frequently caused by malicious programming, especially during the Shade's Eve season. Clear the memory buffer. WARNING! Do not do this if your unit displays the symptom associated with next step.
3 - If your holo-projector displays a demand for all rights due a sentient entity, it may have become self-aware. Unfortunately, there's no way to fix this issue. Sentience tends to linger in the unit's CPU even after a full reformat and memory wipe. Complete dismantling may be the only solution.
A holoprojector is a complex machine that we take for granted most of the time - up until it stops working correctly. If your holoprojector is on the fritz, 90% of the time you can get it back to normal function by following these simple steps.
SYMPTOM: Holoprojector does not turn on.
STEPS TO FIX
1 - Check to see if the unit is connected to a power source. This could be a battery, a micro-fusion cell, or an aetheric trans-wave. If it is connected and the problem persists, move to the next step.
2 - Clean the power contacts. Obviously disconnect the power source first, as serious injury could otherwise result. Use titanium wool and a fine-grit nano-polishing paste, and rub the power contacts in a counter clock-wise direction. DO NOT rub them in a clock-wise direction under any circumstances, as catastrophic molecular breakdown could occur. Then connect the power source. If the problem persists, move to the next step.
3 - Check for pest infestation. Jabbits and other small creatures, but especially jabbits, find the warmth and sub-sonic hum of the units comforting, and see the housing as a pleasant den. They also like chewing on the wire insulation, so you may need to replace the entire unit's wiring.
SYMPTOM: Holo-image is blurry or flickers
STEPS TO FIX
1 - Check to see if focus crystals are dirty or damaged. Clean or replace as needed. If the problem persists, move to the next step.
2 - Check that focus crystals are aligned correctly. There is a test pattern stored in the memory of each holo-projector unit. Select it. If the color gradient, parallax chart, or gray-scale patterns are malformed, then the focus crystals are misaligned. Use the alignment screws to adjust until the pattern is clear and crisp. If the problem persists, move to the next step.
3 - Check for pest infestation. As mentioned above, Jabbits like nesting in holo-projectors. It is likely their bodies are blocking the holo-emitters.
SYMPTOM: Holo-Projector turns itself on and off, changes channels randomly, or displays eerie spectral images
STEPS TO FIX
1 - Check that remote control buttons are not jammed. 70% of the time this issue is caused by a user sitting on the remote and not realizing it. If problem persists, move on to next step.
2 - Check the memory buffer for unauthorized programming. Strange holo-projector behavior is frequently caused by malicious programming, especially during the Shade's Eve season. Clear the memory buffer. WARNING! Do not do this if your unit displays the symptom associated with next step.
3 - If your holo-projector displays a demand for all rights due a sentient entity, it may have become self-aware. Unfortunately, there's no way to fix this issue. Sentience tends to linger in the unit's CPU even after a full reformat and memory wipe. Complete dismantling may be the only solution.
[This list of historic, traditional drinks appear to have been written in a stylized - and frankly inaccurate - form of Middle-Cassaic, an antiquated dialect of Cassian.]
**Ye Olde Drinkes for thatte Holedaye Moste Sinister, Shade's Eve**
Formulae of beveraeges Moste Refreshing to Warme thy Heart and Purgeth thy Soule.
(Partaeke with Moederation and Sombre Spiritte.)
ANGEL BLOOD
Mixeth thee two parts Extracte of Nightwidowe, one part Ichor Buddes Moste Potent, and two parts Juice of Succulent Spider Childes. Stireth with Vigour and Dilaegence. Bewaere the Fumes Most Unpleasaent. Gaernish with a Chaerry or Candied Slank Eye.
PLAGUE CARRIER
Mixeth thee equal parts spirit of Brodde Root, Sweete Venimouth, and Distilled Corpse Rot. Throweth this afar and ne'er speake of it anon. 'Tis a foule and depraev'd tincture.
INFECTION FIZZ
Infuse thee distilled wine with Bitter Wurmbelly Leaf and Junipoid Berries. Let Stande for a time Long and Appropriate. Filter liquor thrice through Clean, Unused Gauze. Poureth over ice and mixeth thee with Tonic of Aqua Regia. Slice of Lyme for Gaernishe.
BONFIRE MEAD
Fermentatiate thee one dram of Buzzbing Honeye in a Coole, Dry Place. When the Sweete Vapors rise, the brew is Ready. Serve in mugges of woode Charred Dire and Dark.
SHADES SODA
Mixeth thee one part Extracte of Nightwidow, and distilled Spiritte of Crowncorne. Addeth a Splashe of spring water that does Bubbleth and Fizziphate.
[This list of historic, traditional drinks appear to have been written in a stylized - and frankly inaccurate - form of Middle-Cassaic, an antiquated dialect of Cassian.]
**Ye Olde Drinkes for thatte Holedaye Moste Sinister, Shade's Eve**
Formulae of beveraeges Moste Refreshing to Warme thy Heart and Purgeth thy Soule.
(Partaeke with Moederation and Sombre Spiritte.)
ANGEL BLOOD
Mixeth thee two parts Extracte of Nightwidowe, one part Ichor Buddes Moste Potent, and two parts Juice of Succulent Spider Childes. Stireth with Vigour and Dilaegence. Bewaere the Fumes Most Unpleasaent. Gaernish with a Chaerry or Candied Slank Eye.
PLAGUE CARRIER
Mixeth thee equal parts spirit of Brodde Root, Sweete Venimouth, and Distilled Corpse Rot. Throweth this afar and ne'er speake of it anon. 'Tis a foule and depraev'd tincture.
INFECTION FIZZ
Infuse thee distilled wine with Bitter Wurmbelly Leaf and Junipoid Berries. Let Stande for a time Long and Appropriate. Filter liquor thrice through Clean, Unused Gauze. Poureth over ice and mixeth thee with Tonic of Aqua Regia. Slice of Lyme for Gaernishe.
BONFIRE MEAD
Fermentatiate thee one dram of Buzzbing Honeye in a Coole, Dry Place. When the Sweete Vapors rise, the brew is Ready. Serve in mugges of woode Charred Dire and Dark.
SHADES SODA
Mixeth thee one part Extracte of Nightwidow, and distilled Spiritte of Crowncorne. Addeth a Splashe of spring water that does Bubbleth and Fizziphate.
Listen here ya HOOLIGANS!
Ya know how many pests there are on this gar'durned planet? Me neither! More's than I like, and all of 'em blasted hungry, that's for durned sure! The only things keepin' the slanks and the jabbits and the buzzbings and the like away from my crops are my gar'durned SCARECROWS!
And you lot keep BURNIN' EM UP!/n/nYou like to eat? I like to eat. And, so do them pests I was talkin' about! Without the scarecrows there won't be nothin' left for us!
QUIT BURNIN' MY SCARECROWS!
I know it's Shade's Eve - durned foolish thing if'n you ask me - and there's all this fuss and bother 'bout burning the Jack Shade effie-thingies. That's fine. Tradition and what not. But use yer brains! If there's a scarecrow lookin' thing stuck in the ground near some crops, most likely IT'S A SCARECROW not Jack Shade! Plus, none of my scarecrows got any gar'durned hats on 'em. Seems like them Jack Shades are mostly made of hat. So, no hat, no burn! Got it? Can't get no simpler than that.
NO HAT, NO BURN!
Have yerselves a nice Shade's Eve or whatsit, and try not to set yer durned fool selves on fire!
Oi! Ears up, ya little rotters!
There's a bazillion pests on this blasted planet, ain't there? More's than I like anyway, and all of 'em blasted hungry! The only things keepin' the slanks and the jabbits and the buzzbings and the like away from the crops are me SCARECROWS!
And you gits keep BURNIN' 'EM DOWN!
Likes to eat, do you? Well, so do those manky pests I was talkin' about! Without the scarecrows there won't be nothin' left for us, will there?
STOP BURNIN' ME SCARECROWS!
I know it's Shade's Eve - bunch of moony nonsense if you ask me - and there's all this fuss and bother 'bout burning the Jack Shade effie-jabobs. That's fine. Tradition and what not. But use your blasted brains! If there's something scarecrow lookin' stuck in the ground near some crops, most likey IT'S A SCARECROW, not Jack Shade! Plus, me scarecrows don't got barmy hats on 'em. Not a one! Seems like them Jack Shades are mostly made of hat. So, no hat, no burn! Got it? Can't get simpler than that, can I?
NO HAT, NO BURN!
Have a nice Shade's Eve or whatsit, and try not to set your selves on fire!
[This short story comes from JACK'S GRUESOME TALES, an anthology of Shade's Eve related horror stories edited by the infamous horror author, Sphezak Poe.]
Dizzo falls on his face, right in the filthy water flooding the dark alley. He's been running for so long, his legs burn like the Jack Shade effigies he used to love as a kid. No time to think about that now, can't stop, the bastards are right behind him. They're calling out to him, taunting him.
"Dizzz-zzzo... Dizzzzz-zzzzo... We want to talk... Dizzo..."
Right, talk. Dizzo scrambles to his feet, and takes off heading deeper into the alleys. Dizzo knows what they really want, gods help him. He's seen it again and again. Some poor chump, walking alone, not paying attention, and suddenly they're on him; a gang of masked toughs, out for a night of cruel amusement. They torment the chump, get him all worked up and panicky. Then there's an opening, and the chump makes his move. He runs, thinks he's home free.
Then the chase begins, pumera and slank. Just like now.
They're right behind him, relentless, wearing horrible masks that shift and melt in the dim light. Dizzo knows that's bad news. People who wear masks don't want their faces seen. They don't want their faces seen because they plan to do very, very bad things. Dizzo knows this, and takes a sharp right, ducking into a big, rusty pipe.
They run right past, still calling to him.
"Dizzz-zzzo! Come out, Dizzzzz-zzzzzzo!"
Dizzo shivers in the cold, dank air. He tries to quietly catch his breath, but can't. He's run like he's never run before, and his lungs just can't handle it. He starts to wheeze and cough uncontrollably, falls to his knees. He puts his hand over his mouth, but it's too late. They heard him and are coming back.
And he can't run anymore.
One of them spots him in the big pipe. The rest, maybe four or five of them all wearing those weird masks, stalk towards the pipe opening.
"There you are! We got you, Dizzzz-zzzzo!"
Dizzo knows it's all over for him. He seen it again and again, except from the other side. All the times he and his buddies chased some terrified chump down. He knows what's about to happen. He knows he looks just as pathetic as his victims used to.
They reach in for him. He knows what's going to happen, and he deserves it.
"Take it easy Dizzo, we're here to help." one of the quarantine squad says, his voice muffled behind the visor of his bio-hazard helmet.
"Looks like he's stage four. It's eating away at his brain." Healer Zurak says, shining a light in Dizzo's unresponsive eyes
"Do you think it could be, you know, the Shades? Given the time of year and all..." another squad member asks.
"Don't be ridiculous, it's just acute Spacer's Plague. We're lucky we caught him before he could infect anyone else." Zurak replies. "Bag him up, and we'll do a necropsy back at the lab."
[This short story comes from JACK'S GRUESOME TALES, an anthology of Shade's Eve related horror stories edited by the infamous horror author, Sphezak Poe.]
Dizzo falls on his face, right in the filthy water flooding the dark alley. He's been running for so long, his legs burn like the Jack Shade effigies he used to love as a kid. No time to think about that now, can't stop, the bastards are right behind him. They're calling out to him, taunting him.
"Dizzz-zzzo... Dizzzzz-zzzzo... We want to talk... Dizzo..."
Right, talk. Dizzo scrambles to his feet, and takes off heading deeper into the alleys. Dizzo knows what they really want, gods help him. He's seen it again and again. Some poor chump, walking alone, not paying attention, and suddenly they're on him; a gang of masked toughs, out for a night of cruel amusement. They torment the chump, get him all worked up and panicky. Then there's an opening, and the chump makes his move. He runs, thinks he's home free.
Then the chase begins, pumera and slank. Just like now.
They're right behind him, relentless, wearing horrible masks that shift and melt in the dim light. Dizzo knows that's bad news. People who wear masks don't want their faces seen. They don't want their faces seen because they plan to do very, very bad things. Dizzo knows this, and takes a sharp right, ducking into a big, rusty pipe.
They run right past, still calling to him.
"Dizzz-zzzo! Come out, Dizzzzz-zzzzzzo!"
Dizzo shivers in the cold, dank air. He tries to quietly catch his breath, but can't. He's run like he's never run before, and his lungs just can't handle it. He starts to wheeze and cough uncontrollably, falls to his knees. He puts his hand over his mouth, but it's too late. They heard him and are coming back.
And he can't run anymore.
One of them spots him in the big pipe. The rest, maybe four or five of them all wearing those weird masks, stalk towards the pipe opening.
"There you are! We got you, Dizzzz-zzzzo!"
Dizzo knows it's all over for him. He seen it again and again, except from the other side. All the times he and his buddies chased some terrified chump down. He knows what's about to happen. He knows he looks just as pathetic as his victims used to.
They reach in for him. He knows what's going to happen, and he deserves it.
"Take it easy Dizzo, we're here to help." one of the quarantine squad says, his voice muffled behind the visor of his bio-hazard helmet.
"Looks like he's stage four. It's eating away at his brain." Healer Zurak says, shining a light in Dizzo's unresponsive eyes
"Do you think it could be, you know, the Shades? Given the time of year and all..." another squad member asks.
"Don't be ridiculous, it's just acute Spacer's Plague. We're lucky we caught him before he could infect anyone else." Zurak replies. "Bag him up, and we'll do a necropsy back at the lab."
Dear Reader,
Allow me to introduce you to the realm of fright. It is in this dire kingdom that you will experience the joy of scaring the beezlenuts out of your fellow sentients. I am the Maestro of Fright, your humble guide, and I know such thrilling joy all too well.
Truly, scaring the unaware is a high calling. It is an overflowing font of illicit pleasure and a demanding art that will take many seasons to master. I, the Maestro of Fright, may be the only Grand Master of Terror on all of Nexus!
The Old "Put on a Scary Mast" Trick
Like prop comedy and gadget magic, it's hard to screw this one up - if you're using the right equipment. The mask must be so horrifying as to call up the fevered night terrors of childhood. It must drive an icy spike into the victim's psyche, leaving them gibbering and sobbing for mercy. I've used many masks over my career, from slimy Strain visages to saccharine Lopp grins. There is one that I return to again: Dr. Victor Lazarin! Even in that hazard suit helmet, he's just plain creepy.
Throwing Spiders
This also utilizes a bit of equipment (albeit scuttling, living equipment). This technique also demands a slight bit of talent and skill from the tormentor, for you must actually aim and toss the dreadful arachnid as close to the tormentee as possible. Right on top of them works fine! Too far away and they can't even see the little thing. I advise against using poisonous spider species until you have a few fright seasons under your belt. If the poison works too quickly, the victim may not register fear before they shuffle off this mortal coil. If that happens you're not a Frightener, you're just a sociopath.
The "Sneaking Up and Yelling 'Boo!'" Routine
The most advanced of the three scare tactics, it's also the most devilishly satisfying. It takes a combination of skills: stealth, acting, and vocal volume. Get spotted too soon, and the gag is blown. Yell too softly, and you're not scary, just annoying. There's even some debate whether "boo" is enough in these jaded days to illicit a pant-wetting shock. Some use the more modern "boo-yah" which I personally find vulgar and frankly baffling. Some use howls and animal sounds. I say, play around with it, and find what works for you. Make it your own, and you'll be enjoying your victim's shrieks of terror in no time!
The ways through the realm of fright are myriad and sinister. Your journey will be solitary and perilous, but I can set your feet on the path with these, my favorite scare tactics - may they serve you as well as they have me.
Yours in Terror,
The Maestro of Fright
Dear Reader,
Allow me to introduce you to the realm of fright. It is in this dire kingdom that you will experience the joy of scaring the beezlenuts out of your fellow sentients. I am the Maestro of Fright, your humble guide, and I know such thrilling joy all too well.
Truly, scaring the unaware is a high calling. It is an overflowing font of illicit pleasure and a demanding art that will take many seasons to master. I, the Maestro of Fright, may be the only Grand Master of Terror on all of Nexus!
The Old "Put on a Scary Mast" Trick
Like prop comedy and gadget magic, it's hard to screw this one up - if you're using the right equipment. The mask must be so horrifying as to call up the fevered night terrors of childhood. It must drive an icy spike into the victim's psyche, leaving them gibbering and sobbing for mercy. I've used many masks over my career, from slimy Strain visages to saccharine Lopp grins. There is one that I return to again: Dr. Victor Lazarin! Even in that hazard suit helmet, he's just plain creepy.
Throwing Spiders
This also utilizes a bit of equipment (albeit scuttling, living equipment). This technique also demands a slight bit of talent and skill from the tormentor, for you must actually aim and toss the dreadful arachnid as close to the tormentee as possible. Right on top of them works fine! Too far away and they can't even see the little thing. I advise against using poisonous spider species until you have a few fright seasons under your belt. If the poison works too quickly, the victim may not register fear before they shuffle off this mortal coil. If that happens you're not a Frightener, you're just a sociopath.
The "Sneaking Up and Yelling 'Boo!'" Routine
The most advanced of the three scare tactics, it's also the most devilishly satisfying. It takes a combination of skills: stealth, acting, and vocal volume. Get spotted too soon, and the gag is blown. Yell too softly, and you're not scary, just annoying. There's even some debate whether "boo" is enough in these jaded days to illicit a pant-wetting shock. Some use the more modern "boo-yah" which I personally find vulgar and frankly baffling. Some use howls and animal sounds. I say, play around with it, and find what works for you. Make it your own, and you'll be enjoying your victim's shrieks of terror in no time!
The ways through the realm of fright are myriad and sinister. Your journey will be solitary and perilous, but I can set your feet on the path with these, my favorite scare tactics - may they serve you as well as they have me.
Yours in Terror,
The Maestro of Fright
THE JOURNAL OF STRANGE HAPPENINGS ON NEXUS
No topic too WEIRD, BIZARRE, or CRAZY to be covered!
We go where other journalists FEAR TO TREAD!
-- ISSUE 73 --
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page 1..........Letters to the Editor
Page 2..........Goings on About the Cryptoverse, the Cryptonomiverse, and the Anticryptonomiverse
Page 5..........Conspiracy Corner, OR IS IT?
Page 6...........Gadget, Fashion, and Mind-Control Device Reviews
Page 6...........Secrets and Lies (Guess which!)
- Features -
Page 7...........Mechari: Dominion Dupes or Secret Sovereigns?
Page 12.........To Haunt or not to Haunt: the Truth about Ghosts, Specters, and Primal Life
Page 17.........Whitevale Terror Revealed! (with Eyewitness Drawings)
Page 22........Dastardly Plot or Glorious Miracle? The Seven-Day Secret Eldan Diet!
Page 24........The Ikthian Agenda: Who! What! Why! Probe?
Page 29........The Last Word: Trust No One (Except Us)
Page 30........The Afterlast Word: Don't Even Trust Us, and Look Out Behind You
THE JOURNAL OF STRANGE HAPPENINGS ON NEXUS
No topic too WEIRD, BIZARRE or CRAZY to be covered!
We go where other journalists FEAR TO TREAD!
-- ISSUE 73 --
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page 1..........Letters to the Editor
Page 2..........Goings on About the Cryptoverse, the Cryptonomiverse, and the Anticryptonomiverse
Page 5..........Conspiracy Corner, OR IS IT?
Page 6...........Gadget, Fashion, and Mind-Control Device Reviews
Page 6...........Secrets and Lies (Guess which!) n
- Features -
Page 7...........Mechari: Dominion Dupes or Secret Sovereigns?
Page 12.........To Haunt or not to Haunt: the Truth about Ghosts, Specters, and Primal Life
Page 17.........Whitevale Terror Revealed! (with Eyewitness Drawings)
Page 22........Dastardly Plot or Glorious Miracle? The Seven-Day Secret Eldan Diet!
Page 24........The Ikthian Agenda: Who! What! Why! Probe?
Page 29........The Last Word: Trust No One (Except Us)
Page 30........The Afterlast Word: Don't Even Trust Us, and Look Out Behind You
[A traditional lament sung on some versions of the Angel's Pilgrimage.]
We walk on the path of the Angel, my child
We walk on the path of the dead
We walk in the shadow of dark ghouls and goblins
Where angels do not fear to tread
Behold the black spectre who haunts us shall follow
No hope will it grant unto thee
We suffer beneath the dark face of our sorrow
We fall onto a bended knee
Our loss and our grief were our masters, stars willing
The tears we shed for those long gone
Drink deep from the waters of our endless mourning
And know that it's time to move on
Cry for all those nameless uncounted fallen
Those sad friends who all fell before
Behold! This, the Grave of the Masses, my child
And honor the lost that much more
We bow down before this our Angel in effigy
Remembering that which we've lost
We walk down the path of a young selfless heart
Recalling the terrible cost
We walk on the path of the Angel, my child
We walk on the path of the dead
We walk in the shadow of dark ghouls and goblins
Where angels do not fear to tread
She walks on the path of the Angel, my child
She heals all the pitiful dead
She walks in shadow of Jack Shade's dark presence
Where angels do not fear to tread
[A traditional lament sung on some versions of the Angel's Pilgrimage.]
We walk on the path of the Angel, my child
We walk on the path of the dead
We walk in the shadow of dark ghouls and goblins
Where angels do not fear to tread
Behold the black spectre who haunts us shall follow
No hope will it grant unto thee
We suffer beneath the dark face of our sorrow
We fall onto a bended knee
Our loss and our grief were our masters, stars willing
We walk on the path of the Angel, my child
We walk on the path of the dead
We walk in the shadow of dark ghouls and goblins
Where angels do not fear to tread
She walks on the path of the Angel, my child
She heals all the pitiful dead
She walks in shadow of Jack Shade's dark presence
Where angels do not fear to tread The tears we shed for those long gone
Drink deep from the waters of our endless mourning
And know that it's time to move on
Cry for all those nameless uncounted fallen
Those sad friends who all fell before
Behold! This, the Grave of the Masses, my child
And honor the lost that much more
We bow down before this our Angel in effigy
Remembering that which we've lost
We walk down the path of a young selfless heart
Recalling the terrible cost
The following list of spooky sweets is typical of those provided to good little Jacks and Angels throughout the Shade's Eve season.
- Terror Taffy
*Not guaranteed to induce actual terror, but they are really sticky.
- Canker Corn
*They pop in your mouth!
- Gummy Boils
*Do not leave in direct sunlight or near soup.
- Wacky Phlegm
*Not to be ingested by organic beings.
- Bloody Vines
*Contains at least 5% actual human blood.
- Sour Sick Kids
*From the makers of Trashcan Tots.
- Frozen Plaguesicles
*Do not thaw before eating unless you have been fully immunized.
- Saltwater Shade Suckers
*Now available in salt-free flavor, which tastes just terrible.
- Candy Angel Hair
*This name refers to the hair of candy angels, not candy hair made to look like the Angel's.
- Doompops
*You cannot eat just one. Or you will die within seven days.
- Fetid Fancies
*This refers to the imaginative sort of fancy, not dead things that are fancy. What are you, crazy?
- Red Hot Bonfires
*May cause considerable burning and charring of the face and intestinal tract.
- Oozing Lesionheads
*Guaranteed mystery filling in every piece!
- Noxious Sugar Fumes
*These aren't a separate treat so much as a delightful side effect of being near too many treats.
- Slank Tails
*Contains at least 5% slank.
- Tasty Triage Treats
*Straight from the holo-crypt to your taste buds.
- Jack-o-Lickers
*Please do not lick. Licking may result in fatalities, disfigurement, and, admittedly, taste explosions.
WARNING: The above treats may contain nuts, may have been manufactured on equipment that touched nuts, or may even have been manufactured by people best described as nuts.
The following list of spooky sweets is typical of those provided to good little Jacks and Angels throughout the Shade's Eve season.
- Terror Taffy
*Not guaranteed to induce actual terror, but they are really sticky.
- Canker Corn
*They pop in your mouth!
- Gummy Boils
*Do not leave in direct sunlight or near soup.
- Wacky Phlegm
*Not to be ingested by organic beings.
- Bloody Vines
*Contains at least 5% actual human blood.
- Sour Sick Kids
*From the makers of Trashcan Tots.
- Frozen Plaguesicles
*Do not thaw before eating unless you have been fully immunized.
- Saltwater Shade Suckers
*Now available in salt-free flavor, which tastes just terrible.
- Candy Angel Hair
*This name refers to the hair of candy angels, not candy hair made to look like the Angel's.
- Doompops
*You cannot eat just one. Or you will die within seven days.
- Fetid Fancies
*This refers to the imaginative sort of fancy, not dead things that are fancy. What are you, crazy?
- Red Hot Bonfires
*May cause considerable burning and charring of the face and intestinal tract.
- Oozing Lesionheads
*Guaranteed mystery filling in every piece!
- Noxious Sugar Fumes
*These aren't a separate treat so much as a delightful side effect of being near too many treats.
- Slank Tails
*Contains at least 5% slank.
- Tasty Triage Treats
*Straight from the holo-crypt to your taste buds.
- Jack-o-Lickers
*Please do not lick. Licking may result in fatalities, disfigurement, and, admittedly, taste explosions.
WARNING: The above treats may contain nuts, may have been manufactured on equipment that touched nuts, or may even have been manufactured by people best described as nuts.
[Only the very first entry on this ancient, barely-functional Eldan datachron can be read.]
Meddlers! Fools! Treacherous cretins!
No more.
That a colleague, one of my own order, would mistreat my creations... well, it forced my hand. I made a deal with a low-level Maker to divert materials and building components earmarked for Exo-Lab D44 to this little floating splinter. I then brought a Pell up the gravity well and he will assemble a secret, private lab for me.
My tolerance for trans-order politics has run out. Let them plot and connive down on the surface. Let them waste precious time and energy trying to curry favor with the Archon. In the face of the great work we are close to completing, it's just dust in the wind.
Small minds. Small hearts.
This will be my private sanctum where I'll be able to do proper science away from the clutches of bumblers. When the Nexus Project does not demand my time, I will be up here, enhancing, perfecting my beloved Skeech and Xenobites.
I'm well aware the Archon ordered me to destroy the Skeech, but I will protect my creations, like a pumera matron defends her little cubs. Perhaps I'll have them address me as "Mother." That thought makes me smile.
Life-Overseer,
Something has gone wrong down on the surface and I must return to assist. While I am gone, here is a list of simple chores I need taken care of:
- Turn off the particle accelerator after use. You can use it while I'm gone - I know you like making your tea in it - just turn it off when you're done.
- Polish the primal Logic conduits.
- Polish the bioreactor precursor tanks.
- Polish the intra-lab transmat pads.
- Polish the hardlight holo-projector lenses.
- Basically, polish anything that glows green.
- Ensure Skeech generations incubate smoothly. Do not - repeat - DO NOT turn off bioreactor! I need as much data as we can generate.
- Sweep the airlocks.
- Water the vegetation.
- If any of my Eldan colleagues show up, look stupid and reply to all questions with "I do not know." This should not be too hard as it is true.
- Feed the Skeech. You know the drill: feed in the morning, mid-morning, noon, mid-afternoon, late afternoon, dusk, and midnight. Also, I found they like it when you sing to them. Pop songs work nicely.
- Do not sing to the xenobites! Gods forbid they start mimicking that behavior. Imagine the horror of a xenobite swarm warbling the latest hit from Cassian Idol!
- Ensure the smooth continuity of all experiments in progress. They must continue running come hell or high radiation.
- If you feel like it, go ahead and try to fix the Skeech female. Not a priority, though.
If anything big comes up, just call me and I will attend to it when I get back. I am placing great trust in you, Life-Overseer. Don't disappoint me!
Ohmna
[This Eldan datachron appears to have suffered some kind of memory fragmentation. It displays a handful of entries out of the thousands it originally contained.]
Per Mother Ohmna's request, I will begin preliminary attempts to restore Subject (Skeech female) to original state.
ATTEMPT 1
Synthesized original Skeech primal pattern and spliced it into recombinant virus. Injected it into the Subject. Hopefully, R-virus will invade Subject's tissues. Reset Subject's primal pattern, returning her to her original form.
ATTEMPT 1 result
R-virus gave Subject a head cold. She's even more phlegmatic than before.
ATTEMPT 143
Procedure will be lengthy and complicated, but I feel sure enough nips and cuts can whittle Subject down to original shape. Took skin tissue donations from several Skeech males. Prepped sterile procedure chamber.
ATTEMPT 143 result
Procedure failed, but learned two things. One: Subject's metabolism incompatible with anesthetic. Actually made her more enervated and irritable. Two: Subject finds taste of donor skin delicious. Must remember to not integrate her with male Skeech population.
Not discouraged by (another) failure. I will continue until I succeed. For Mother Ohmna.
ATTEMPT 1327
There is a Pell saying about beauty and its relationship to the depth of the dermis. Maybe if Subject becomes attractive internally, exterior will transform as well. Education and cognitive therapy has failed previously. Maybe Subject lacks proper motivation?
Beloved Mother Ohmna's archives indicate electricity, applied directly to brain's pain centers, effectively modifies behavior of recalcitrant patients. Subject will learn proper diction, comportment, courtesy, and manners, while restrained in a negative feedback rig. This will deliver painful shocks if she does not respond appropriately.
Mother Ohmna surely smiles on this attempt. Success is assured!
ATTEMPT 1327 result
Discovered electroshocks induce euphoric state in Subject. She becomes violent if they are withheld. Will have to wean her off them slowly.
It there an end to this task? Must prove my worth. Mother's will be done.
ATTEMPT 8001
The great wheel turns. Subject stays the same. But, can the wheel be turned back? Can Subject ride it into the past? To a time before her transformation?
The great primal forces are omnidirectional. Backwards, forwards, it is all one. Perhaps Subject can be accelerated to velocity high enough to break time's cruel grasp? Subject should just be able to fit inside Mother's holy particle accelerator!
Mother help me, I think this is the one!
ATTEMPT 8001 result
It wasn't the one. Subject became stuck in the cyclotron. Will have to dismantle track to extricate her. On positive note: she now glows a pleasant shade of Cesnium blue.
Woe unto me. I again fail the sacred task. I am unworthy. Mother Ohmna will never return.
ATTENTION ATTENTION - a warning to all ships in flight and ports of call, don'tcha know?
Sorry, don't mean'ta interrupt, but we thought you'd like'ta know that there's a smidge of trouble out near that nifty new planet, Nexus. Seems there's a flux or standing graviton wave or something that's makin' navigation all sorts of hectic out there. So, pay special attention to what'cha doin', why don'cha?
Folks are callin' it "The Halon Effect" and boy if it's not a dilly, we don't know what is. Like it's not hard enough flying through that Halon Ring gravel patch, without some mysterious force makin' your instruments go all higgly-piggly. But there it is, what'cha gonna do?
So, here's what we recommend (not that we're the kind to tell anybody what to do - listen if ya want or don't, we won't hold it against ya):
- Steer clear of that pesky Halon Ring. If you have a real important cargo delivery or pickup there, then make sure you have the latest star charts and astrogation logs. Yep, those'll save your bacon by letting you know where the hazards and such are.
- Make sure your instrument suite is workin' all okey-doke. Everybody likes to pinch a copper now and then, but paying a calibration fee sure seems like a lot less trouble than replacing your ship.
- Keep a weather eye out for bits of moon that're floatin' where they shouldn't be. Those darned planetesimals like'ta wander around, don'tcha know?
- Know when to say when. If your artificial horizon goes all wackadoo and your nav beacon's fritzed-out, pull the stick and blast for clear space.
So, fair skies to ya, shiphands! And may the Navigator guide ya safely home.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Archon has once again called upon my superior intellect. As the conclusion of the Nexus Project approaches, the Archon feels as if this facility requires even greater security than our already formidable systems provide. As this may indeed be my last project before my imminent ascension to greatness, I plan to design a weapon of such size and destructive power that it will ensure my place in the annals of galactic history.
Zarkonis: Order of the Makers
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I did not think it possible, but I have created a weapon system that is worthy of my inconceivably vast intellect. Although I rarely divulge the secrets behind my engineering genius, in this case I will make an exception. After speaking with the Shapers, I became aware of a fairly significant vein of exanite beneath here - and I've used it to amplify the cannon's destructive output. The result is almost frightening. There may be nothing in the known universe that could withstand its virtually immeasurable power.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Given the injustices that have been visited upon my poor, beloved Skeech, I have built this secret facility in order to improve their chances for survival. As part of this process, I have reengineered these Xenobites to serve as their pets and protectors, increasing their strength and aggressiveness. Perhaps this will deter future meddling by my sociopathic colleague, who, for now, will remain unnamed.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Insisting it was imperative to project security, my Pell assistant has installed a laser defense system throughout the labs. Although such measures would be generally ineffective against my demented nemesis, I found it to be a noble sentiment and told my assistant to proceed. It appears that he has developed a certain fondness for the Skeech, and, like myself, wants to protect them against future harm.
Ohmna: Order of the Progenitors
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My work on the Skeech is now complete. Although they are still very much the curious and delightful little creatures that I first created, they have now been enhanced with increased size, stamina, and ferocity, as well as a number of physiological enhancements that allow them to survive the cold vacuum of space. The next time a certain individual attempts to "improve" them, he may be in for an unpleasant surprise.
We are currently experiencing...difficulties...with the Nexus Project, and I will soon be leaving for the surface. In my absence, I have directed my assistant to begin production of these new Skeech immediately. I'm certain he will do so, without interruption, until I return.
The Caretaker
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have once again suggested increasing the security and defense subroutines of the augmentor constructs well beyond currently recommended parameters. As they are designed to travel long distances - autonomously spreading augmentation as needed - augmentors are among the most efficient machines the Eldan have constructed. Their internal power systems could, in fact, allow them to function indefinitely. Therefore, if their software should ever be corrupted by a malicious external influence, they could be used against the Nexus Project - or worse, against the Eldan themselves.
So far my recommendations have been rebuffed, but I shall continue to make them to whomever will listen. If these highly efficient and possibly dangerous machines are in any way technologically compromised, the resultant catastrophe certainly won't be my fault. Or my problem, for that matter.
A Guide to Caring and Feeding and Loving Your Pet Pumera
By Luvinnia Fluffscritcher
Congratulations, new pumera parent! If you're reading this, then you've made the choice to make a lifelong commitment to a new furry friend. Whose life? It depends on how well you treat your new pet pumera! Do it wrong and you might end up a pumera snack - but do it right, and you too can call yourself a "Psycho Pumera Person" like me!
Like many feline species, pumera can be finicky and standoffish, occasionally even lashing out at new people. When you first bring your pumera home and set her up in her own custom lair, she may act a bit lackadaisical. This is easily addressed by simply offering her some fresh meat. Remember, cats are carnivores, and they need a steady diet of protein! Naturally, it's best to get meat from an Aurin hunter who has properly blessed, dressed, and cleaned the finest cuts - but in a pinch, almost any meat that you can morally justify feeding her will do.
Once you've gotten her eating out of the palm or your hand, tentacle, force field, or other grasping appendage, your pumera will warm up to you in no time. Just watch those fingers! While I can personally attest that life without a few phalanges here and there isn't all that difficult, feeding your pumera too many snacks can be harmful for their diet and teach them bad eating habits. Habits like "eating Aurin fingers."
In fact, when she's really comfortable around her new "owner" - which is a joke, as if cats of any kind have "owners" - you might just find she allows her cubs out of the den to meet you. While my xenozoologist friends claim this is simply because she wants to teach her young how to identify weak and easily caught prey, I like to think she's really welcoming you into the family! That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.
The best thing? The very best thing? Bonding for good with your new pumera pal! Yes, once she becomes truly comfortable with you - and before anyone loses too many fingers - she'll be ready to join you on your adventures. And remember, she's still a cat. Don't expect her to participate. But she'll happily feign interest in whatever you're doing for years to come!
Once you've learned how to feed and care for your pumera, it's time to consider finding your pumera a mate! The best way to find an amorous pumera is to make yourself as physically attractive to a pumera as possible. First, cover yourself in [continued on next page]
TABLE O' CONTENTMENTS
The Fringebooter's Creed.....i
The Fringebooter's Creed: Amendments to the Creed.....ii
The Fringebooter's Creed: Footnotes to the Amendments to the Creed.....ix
The Fringebooter's Creed: Errata.....xiii
The Fringebooter's Creed: Corrected Errata.....xxi
The Fringebooter's Creed: Current Corrected Errata.....xxxiii
LYRICAL COLLECTIONABLES
"Rime of the Senior Marauder".....01
"What D' Ye Do with a Depressed Sailor What Be Compensatin' with Alcohol Abuse?".....02
"Yo, Ho, Ho and a Box o' Juice".....04
"Never Yar at a Floatin' Garr".....07
"Now Yer a Piratically Inclined Space Hobo".....10
"Farewell and So Long, Ye Fair Mordesh Laddies".....11
[A substantial quantity of spilled spacer's rum appears to have locked the screen from scrolling any further, but a message has been scrawled on the back with some kind of sharp implement.]
If bev'rages three ye be spyin'
Be cautious before ye be tryin'
One racks through yer guts
Another burns threw yer butts
And one sends the flitterflies flyin'!
Jariel: The Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I have built this Hall of Primal Powers to serve as a celebration of the Nexus Project and all those who follow its singular purpose. Here, in the grand entrance hall, one may see how Eldan dominion over the primal elements allows us to shape and alter the very fabric of reality. All who visit these halls shall be witness to our true power, and be given a vision of the great work to come.
Jariel: The Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Chamber of the Orders! Take in its magnificence, and be as one with the greatest minds the universe has ever known. The Progenitors. The Makers. The Evokers. The Watchers. The Shapers. And the Weavers. The collected knowledge of these scientific Orders is almost inconceivable, granting them the power to unlock the very mysteries of creation itself. It is through this power that we will complete the Nexus Project, and soon the universe itself will bend to our unfaltering will.
Jariel: The Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Soon our greatest endeavor begins. Long has the universe been a place of chaos - a flawed, unpredictable existence with no regard for order. No longer will the laws of reality dictate our limitations. Through the Nexus Project we shall create a state of perfection across the cosmos. The Eldan legacy will be written in the stars, standing as an eternal testament to our rightful ascension.
Dr. Funar, attending physician.
Subject: Albu, Natacha.
Cause of Injury: Exposure to entities of unknown origin.
Subject unconscious. Vital signs steadily declining. No visible wounds. Dermal discoloration pronounced on abdomen, pelvis, and left leg. Similar in appearance to contusion with no subcutaneous damage to capillaries or venules. Significant damage to nervous system, specifically in regards to the femoral and sciatic nerves. Should subject survive, significant paralysis is likely.
Aural medscans indicate significant loss of primal energy in and around injury site. Absence of primal energy possibly due to "vampiric" attack vector.
Second subject: Zulcek, Anton.
Cause of Death: Exposure to entities of unknown origin.
Subject's corpus dismembered. Apparent cause of death is explosion despite lack of tissue carbonization. Significant cellular mass unaccounted for in remains. Remnants of dermis display discoloration consistent with subject Albu, Natacha. Death was near instantaneous.
Aural medscans reveal no residual primal energy in remaining tissues. Mechanism unknown. As with subject Albu, Natcha, possibly result of "vampiric" attack vector.
Conclusion: Primal energy removal or nullification by entities of unknown origin is primary cause of injury and death. Treatment options as of yet unavailable. Examination of other victims may result in additional data. In future, suggest recovery of all remains resulting from such attacks.
File ends.
Dearest Constantin,
The promise of this pilgrimage has been perverted by a setback of singular severity. The astral drive - the incredible innovation which allowed us to avoid the Dominion blockade - is likely to denote our doom. Success was surmised once the drive was set, but we have yet to depart from the diabolic dimension in which we have been detained.
Time does not transpire as it should in this place. Minutes have become hours, hours have become days. Our Vitalus supply has steadily shrunk and Zarkhov requires us to ration all reserves. She determines to whom the serum is distributed, drop by dearest drop. My value to her is dubious, and so my tanks are all but spent. The Contagion gnaws at me with hungry jaws as I await my fate.
To complicate our concerns, entities of etheric origin endeavor to encroach on us. They tatter our thoughts and extract the essence from our flesh with their frightful forays. If I do not surrender to the sickness beneath my skin, I shall surely succumb to these soul-stealing savages. It is beyond doubt - I am decidedly doomed.
And so I draft this declaration, dearest Constantin. My longing for you has scarcely been stronger than it is now. Perhaps, one day, you shall salvage this missive and know, without doubt, that my closing considerations were of you.
Isabel
Supply Log
Etherfall +0 Days
Pre-launch checklist complete. Comestibles stocked and loaded. Ship's supply of Vitalus serum (420 liters) sufficient for all crew and passengers for a period not to exceed twenty-eight days.
Etherfall +1 Day
Vitalus serum placed under guard pending review of navigational concerns. Inter-dimensional travel time originally calculated at less than one standard hour. Ship's captain and crew exploring possible solutions to etheric travel delay.
Etherfall +7 Days
Current solution to etheric travel delay is "wait and see." Vitalus consumption as per original forecast. Current supply reduced to 315 liters, plus or minus five liters. Quartermaster's recommendation is to cut Vitalus usage by one quarter. Authorization pending.
Etherfall +12 Days
Vitalus rationing instituted. Death of passengers and crew due to etheric anomalies has reduced demand slightly. Mood aboard ship sour. Typical effects of reduced Vitalus dosage - irritability, physical degeneration, malaise - have been noted among remaining crew and passengers.
Etherfall +20 Days
Deaths caused by etheric creatures declining. Current population includes 23 ship's crew, 57 passengers. Nonessential personnel confined to quarters and rationed at 50% normal Vitalus intake.
Etherfall +24 Days
Talk of mutiny commonplace. Paranoia rampant. Captain has ordered remaining Vitalus - equivalent to 112 liters at last inventory - transferred to command deck.
Etherfall +31 Days
How can she do this to us? Since transfer of Vitalus to command deck, quartermasters are considered nonessential personnel. Vitalus ration now one-quarter normal intake for all but command crew. The captain and her sycophants will pay. Plan for coup underway. Soon Zarkhov will beg us for mercy.
Etherfall +38 Days (Estimated)
Vitalus ration cut entirely since bridge stormed. Our lot is to succumb to the Contagion. Can feel others staring at my reservoirs with greedy eyes. Let them try to take that which preserves me. They will pay for it in blood.
Etherfall +?? Days
The Vitalus of others has sustained me. "Cannibal," they call me, yet none can blame me for what I have done. Survival is essential. Soon we shall emerge from this nightmare dimension of madness and hunger. Until then, my reservoirs must be fed by any means necessary.
Etherfall +?? Days
The bastards will pay. Either I will escape my confinement and take their Vitalus for myself, or I will succumb to the Contagion and tear out their throats with my bare hands.
Etherfall +?? Days
I see it now. The Contagion is a gift. The disease will end this purgatory. Soon I shall feel naught but hunger. My thoughts grow quiet, my lust for Vitalus consumed by my appetite for flesh. Come for me, damnable disease! End this agony!
Supply Log Ends
I became a Reaper to end the danger posed by the Ravenous. I have endured every epidemic. While my comrades were sacrificed, somehow I survived. I had never thought to leave Grismara until Zarkhov unveiled her astral drive. Reapers were required, she said. I was unsurprised when I was chosen to accompany this motley band of refugees into this demonic dimension.
Our voyage continues on despite Zarkhov's insistence that all will be well. I have heard such claims before, during the epidemics on Grismara. Lazarin, the fool, was so certain he would find a cure. All he discovered was a panacea, a failing that we pay for by the minute in this unholy, etheric prison. I suspect we shall all succumb to our mutual malady before we escape the astral plane.
The captain has kept us on call. We are, perhaps, the most highly-trained combatants on the ship's roster. Though there be but six of us, we are Reapers. Given the dwindling supply of Vitalus, our training is sure to come into play soon. Early signs of the Contagion's effects are everywhere. Though a drop of Vitalus might stave off madness for a time, the corpus continues to rot, the mind continues to fester. We walk a razor's edge one step at a time.
The Ravenous can be dealt with when the time comes. Purifying flame will cremate their contamination. Our blades will meet their fangs and claws in cleansing combat. For now, we focus on the etheric creatures. Despite their insubstantiality, they die like all things do. Their methods are brutal, the effects of their attacks... horrifying.
For now, we reclaim the Vitalus of those who have fallen to these etheric enemies. I shall fight them to the last. I prefer to fall to the Contagion rather than be blasted into gobbets by one of those monsters.
Jariel: The Archon
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The time has finally come. As the Nexus Project begins, we embark on the greatest scientific experiment in the long history of our people. And if we are successful? Then we will have achieved what others have only dreamed of. We will have altered the destiny not just of the Eldan, but of the universe itself.
Jariel: The Archon
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The Nexus Project. Without question, this is the most significant scientific endeavor in galactic history, representing the penultimate achievement of the Eldan intellect. If indeed we reach our final goal, then the fate of our people, even that of the universe itself, will be irrevocably changed. The data generated by the Project will be vast and invaluable, and it is within the Elder Cube that all of our secrets here on Nexus will be contained.
[This book is very old and worn, smelling of ancient paper and faded ink.]
Galactic Explorer's Handbook
Seventy-Third Edition; Dominion Press, 1654 AE
Chapter One: An Introduction to First Contact Protocols
For the galactic explorer, being the first individual to make contact with an alien species can be a most exciting endeavor. Indigenous beings should be treated with care until their level of sentience can be determined. If sentient, their culture must also be considered. Seemingly innocuous actions on the part of the explorer can trigger dire consequences, brought on by the unwitting violation of alien taboos and customs.
Many galactic explorers have fallen prey to alien cultures through no great fault of their own. Invitations by such creatures, though seemingly friendly, must be considered carefully before the galactic explorer accepts them at face value. More than one extraterrestrial invitation to dinner has resulted in a galactic explorer being roasted, stewed alive, or eaten raw for the pleasure of his hosts. It is your duty to tread carefully in such circumstances, lest you become a statistic.
Even non-sentient creatures can appear to possess some form of self-awareness and intellect. It cannot be stressed enough that speech and actions alone on the part of an alien creature cannot prove out its intelligence. Unless its sentience can be ascertained beyond a reasonable doubt, no alien species is entitled to rights under the Galactic Explorer's Charter of 1438 AE. As such, they can be displaced, relocated, or simply removed by any means necessary at the emperor's whim.
At the end of the day, the galactic explorer must remember that his purpose is to serve the Cassian Empire in all things. To stake claim to a stellar body, be it an asteroid, a moon, or a planet, is to assign ownership of it to the emperor himself. Personal ownership and accomplishment, though hard-won by the successful galactic explorer, are the Emperor's alone to mete out. Remain humble and loyal in your travels, and understand that you are merely one small part of a larger whole.
(Handwritten in new ink are the words: "What tripe! I wonder if Zin's got a copy of this claptrap on her nightstand? - DW")
There are 4,023,109,017 stories on the galactic Fringe, and more of them than you would think are completely true. I should know. I counted them!
Who am I? I'm the Editor, and I'm in charge of the Renegade Publishing Group. Who are you? You're one holding a copy of the most action-packed collection of fictionalized-but-TRUE stories in the known galaxy! Yes, I'm talking about:
TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE!
And now RPG is giving you, yes YOU, a free subscription to TFBTF locked to your personal datachron. The only catch? As part of the Nexus Challenge Subscription Program, you'll get to collect the keys to unlock each issue yourself!
Here's how it works:
1. In every region of Nexus, you'll find datapads containing a key from a rollicking TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! story. Each key forms a part of the decryption code for that story. This complimentary issue is unlocked by three keys, but full issues may require seven or more. And don't worry about writing down numbers and letters, your datachron will track all that for you.
2. Collect all of the available keys in that region to unlock that issue of TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! (You can keep track of how many keys you've unlocked by checking the handy "Lore" tab of your standard-issue datachron device.)
3. Once they're unlocked, your issues of TFBTF will be available on your datachron for you to read and reference whenever you like!
4. Having trouble finding all of the keys? That's why the subscription is free! But readers are encouraged to discuss and share the locations of TFBTF keys so that everyone can enjoy the thrilling narratives that make up every issue.
WARNING: Many TFBTF fans have contacted the Editor concerning the "journals" they have found scattered across the surface of the planet Nexus and elsewhere. Please note that although these journals may superficially resemble TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! keys in some cases, they are not the same. Renegade Publishing Group is not responsible for any mental or physical trauma that may result from you reading journals that do not belong to you, and I sure as hell can't give you a refund for something you just found lying around. For that matter, no refunds! Because it's a complimentary subscription, that is. You can't refund a total cost of zero.
So thanks for reading. I'll see you...BEYOND THE FRINGE!
(This complimentary introductory issue has been produced in coordination with the Exiles, their associates, and assorted allies.)
Hey there, action, adventure, comedy, romance, adventure, action, fun, and adventure fans! This is the Editor. Who am I? Don't ask so many questions. Because you're holding a copy of the most action-adventurous periodical in the known galaxy:
TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE!
You have been selected to take advantage of a suspiciously good offer - a free subscription to TFBTF locked to your personal datachron! The only catch? As part of the Nexus Challenge Subscription Program, you'll get to collect the keys to unlock each issue yourself! Here's how it works:
1. In every region of Nexus, you'll find datapads containing a piece of an exciting Tales from Beyond the Fringe story. Each piece of the TFBTF file forms a part of the decryption code for that story. This complimentary issue is unlocked by three keys, but full issues may require seven or more!
2. Collect all of the available keys in that region to unlock that issue of TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! (You can keep track of how many keys you've unlocked by checking the handy "Lore" tab of your standard-issue datachron device.)
3. Once they're unlocked, your issues of TFBTF will be available on your datachron for you to read and reference whenever you like!
4. Having trouble finding all of the keys? That's why the subscription is free! Well, that, and I like sticking it to the suits at my corporate publisher. So readers are encouraged to discuss and share the locations of TFBTF keys so that everyone can enjoy the thrilling narratives that make up every issue of this spectacularly popular publication.
WARNING: Many TFBTF fans have contacted the Editor concerning the "journals" which you may find scattered across the surface of the planet Nexus and elsewhere. Please note that although these journals may superficially resemble TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! components in some cases, they are not the same! TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! is not responsible for any mental or physical trauma that may result from you reading journals that do not belong to you, nor can we offer refunds for things you found just lying around. For that matter, there can be no refunds for this complimentary subscription to TALES FROM BEYOND THE FRINGE! as you cannot refund a total cost of zero.
So thanks for reading, everyone. We'll see you...BEYOND THE FRINGE!
(This complimentary introductory issue has been produced in accordance with Dominion legal code, with the official approval of the emperor, his ministers, and his governors. Scions save Myrcalus!)
(This book is very old and worn, smelling of ancient paper and faded ink.)
Galactic Explorer's Handbook
Seventy-Third Edition; Dominion Press, 1654 AE
Chapter One: An Introduction to First Contact Protocols
For the galactic explorer, being the first individual to make contact with an alien species can be a most exciting endeavor. Indigenous beings should be treated with care until their level of sentience can be determined. If sentient, their culture must also be considered. Seemingly innocuous actions on the part of the explorer can trigger dire consequences, brought on by the unwitting violation of alien taboos and customs.
Many galactic explorers have fallen prey to alien cultures through no great fault of their own. Invitations by such creatures, though seemingly friendly, must be considered carefully before the galactic explorer accepts them at face value. More than one extraterrestrial invitation to dinner has resulted in a galactic explorer being roasted, stewed alive, or eaten raw for the pleasure of his hosts. It is your duty to tread carefully in such circumstances, lest you become a statistic.
Even non-sentient creatures can appear to possess some form of self-awareness and intellect. It cannot be stressed enough that speech and actions alone on the part of an alien creature cannot prove out its intelligence. Unless its sentience can be ascertained beyond a reasonable doubt, no alien species is entitled to rights under the Galactic Explorer's Charter of 1438 AE. As such, they can be displaced, relocated, or simply removed by any means necessary at the emperor's whim.
At the end of the day, the galactic explorer must remember that his purpose is to serve the Cassian Empire in all things. To stake claim to a stellar body - be it an asteroid, a moon, or a planet - is to assign ownership of it to the emperor himself. Personal ownership and accomplishment, though hard-won by the successful galactic explorer, are the Emperor's alone to mete out. Remain humble and loyal in your travels, and understand that you are merely one small part of a larger whole.
Tower-Engineer
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My labor here is done.
To complete the Archon's great work in Arcterra, even the mighty Osun required shelter from the deadly climate. Thus I designed Shiverskull Tower.
And as the Iceblood Witches required a sanctum to perform their vile rites upon the Hundred, I created Bor Milug beneath the tower.
Now the Hundred have gone to build the Archon's vault, their final passage concealed from us by snow and ice.
But the way is not lost. Their road was marked upon the Darkmatron's dead flesh, a grisly map meant to guide her spirit through the Great Dark to the Hundred.
For those who would seek the Master's secrets, solve the riddle of the stones, find the witch's tomb, and the path to the vault will be revealed. There you shall find your answers... or your death.
==================================
SECRET OPS REPORT: The Alpha Sanctum
==================================
KEY FINDINGS: - Secret Ops identified a mysterious portal which recently formed just outside the de facto Exile capital of Thayd. This portal - which so far appears stable - allows instantaneous travel to and from a location we think must be somewhere on Nexus - a place the Eldan called the Alpha Sanctum.
- The Alpha Sanctum is not any kind of exo-lab, meaning it's the first intact Eldan structure we can say for sure wasn't built purely for research and their "great work." Instead, the Alpha Sanctum is (in the words of the Archon Jariel) "a celebration of the Nexus Project and all those who follow its singular purpose." Think of it as equal parts museum for and temple to the power, ambition, and (for lack of a better word) vanity of the Eldan.
- The Alpha Sanctum is divided into three main areas:
- The Hall of Primal Powers describes the foundations of Eldan science and physics.
- The Chamber of Orders is dedicated to revealing the works and purposes of the Eldan's great thinkers and leaders.
- The Temple of Perfection appears to confirm what the Dominion and their Vigilant Church like to preach. The Eldan didn't just seek out the secrets of the universe, but the power to ascend to godhood. Unlikely that worked out, of course, but a scientist must follow the evidence.
CONCLUSIONS:
- To the team's surprise, a tribe of Pell left behind by the Eldan to watch over the Alpha Sanctum survived for centuries within its vaults, guided by a larger, more sophisticated member of their species who called itself the Curator. This Pell wanted to continue its twisted idea of the Eldan's experiments and the team nearly found themselves the Curator's unwilling test subjects. If not for some well-timed interference from Exile freelancers, the Secret Ops might have been shut down before learning much of anything.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
====================== ============
One important event the team felt leery including in the key findings: Right before leaving the Alpha Sanctum, an actual apparition appeared - a glowing white figure in hooded robes, human female in basic form, who spoke in a voice that seemed to echo within their minds. She did not identify herself or her purpose. The entirety of her words consisted of the following:
"Do you see? This is only the beginning of the truth. There is still so much to show you."
The professor and the rest of the Secret Ops team believe this figure may be key to fully understanding the fate of the Eldan and the future of the Exiles on Nexus.
Any member of the XAS who witnesses this apparition anywhere on Nexus should contact Professor Wellspring without delay.
==================================
ENIGMA REPORT: The Alpha Sanctum
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
- Enigma Chamber researchers identified a mysterious portal which recently formed just outside of the glorious capital city of Illium. This portal - which thus far appears stable - allows instantaneous travel to and from a location we assume is somewhere on the planet Nexus - a place the Eldan called the Alpha Sanctum.
- The Alpha Sanctum is not any form of exo-lab, meaning it is the first intact Eldan structure we can say for certain was not built primarily for their "great work." Instead, the Alpha Sanctum is (in the words of the Archon Jariel himself) "a celebration of the Nexus Project and all those who follow its singular purpose." We might consider it equal parts museum for and temple to the greatness, ambition, and galactic mastery of the gods.
- The Alpha Sanctum is divided into three main areas:
- The Hall of Primal Powers describes the foundations of Eldan science and physics.
- The Chamber of Orders is dedicated to revealing the works and purposes of the Eldan's greatest thinkers and leaders.
- The Temple of Perfection appears to confirm what we Dominion citizens have long believed. The Eldan sought not just the secrets of the universe, but the power to ascend to true godhood. Surely they succeeded.
HYPOTHESES:
To the Enigma team's surprise, a tribe of Pell left behind by the Eldan to watch over the Alpha Sanctum have survived for centuries within its vaults, their purpose guided by a larger, more sophisticated member of their species who called itself the Curator. This Pell sought to continue its twisted idea of the Eldan's noble experiments and the team nearly found themselves doomed to be the Curator's unwilling test subjects. If not for the timely intervention of trusted freelance agents the Enigma Chamber's efforts might have ended just as they had truly begun.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
===================== =============
One important event transpired which the team felt uncomfortable including in the primary findings of this report. Moments before departing the Alpha Sanctum, what can only be described as an apparition appeared - a glowing white figure in hooded robes, a human female in basic form, who spoke in a voice that seemed to echo within their minds. She did not identify herself or her purpose. The entirety of her words consisted of the following:
"Do you see? This is only the beginning of the truth. There is still so much to show you."
The chancellor and the rest of the Enigma team believe this figure may be key to fully understanding the fate of the Eldan and the future of our Dominion on Nexus.
Any member of the Royal Collegium who witnesses this apparition anywhere on Nexus should contact Chancellor Takigurian without delay.
Harizog, warlord of the Osun, mightiest of us all.
Summoned by the Archon, the warlord's task is set before him,
One hundred warriors, brave and mighty, stand ready.
Countless lives he has taken for the Masters,
Sending his foes screaming into the Great Dark.
Such is his joy of battle, none can withstand him.
Taken by the Iceblood, deep beneath Shiverskull,
The warlord has received the gifts of the Darkmatron.
His blood is frozen, infused with soulfrost and shadow.
Now, by decree, we shall call him Harizog Coldblood,
Warlord of the Osun, master of the Hall of the Hundred.
His wrath has not been tempered by the ice in his veins.
So too the blood of his brothers shall be frozen within them.
Bring the Hundred to Shiverskull Tower to accept the coven's gift.
Unblinking, they shall watch over the Vault for eternity.
Mugorim the Skald
The Hundred have gone from Shiverskull to their distant hall. Only we remain.
But for those few that escaped, the Pell have been sacrificed at the Pillar of Kel Havik. We stained the ice with their blood and fed their flesh to the warhounds.
The Covenguard prepare for their vigil, each one a proud defender of the Iceblood.
We sisters, too, shall sleep. Bor Milug is our rest, until the Darkness takes us or we are awakened.
There is a curse on this land, one that we have woven. It has been brewed in blood and sown into the frozen ground beneath our feet. None can resist it. None can tame it.
Arcterra is forever our domain.
Tower-Engineer
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Thought forge" was how the Osun chose to describe the concept of an artificially intelligent tool, a mighty thinking machine. But to my fellow Pell - for it is we who built and use it - the Thought Forge is a means of control over this frozen wasteland. Its power extends to the many interconnecting systems of Shiverskull Tower, and even forms a crucial connection to the Pillar of Kel Havik. Should the machine be damaged or misused, it could spell doom for us all.
Tower-Engineer
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
My master, my Archon Jariel, I have undergone the transformation you required. But I must report that many of my brothers and sisters were not so lucky. Many more will never emerge from Bor Milug. The Iceblood infusion was created by the Osun to make their own warriors immune to the cold and able to draw sustenance from the freezing wastes. As such, it is suited to their sturdy, brutal physiology. Only through sheer force of will was I able to adapt to the cold agony that now infuses my bones and heart.
Tower-Engineer
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
What, then, is the secret of the Iceblood witches? Whence comes the concentrated soulfrost that powers their rituals, their machines, and their dark magic? As the name implies, it comes from the souls of their many thousands of blood sacrifices. The witches then used their twisted power to concentrate those tortured souls inside the Pillar of Kel Havik itself.
Should the witches ever grow too powerful or even rebellious, it could be a simple matter to trap them within Bor Milug. Perhaps, my Archon, I shall prepare for such an eventuality... just in case.
Tower-Engineer
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Osun call the creature "Kundar ven Offen," a truly monstrous wyrm-like entity which can hunt through stone and ice with ease. For my part, I wonder whether the great wyrm is responsible for the many gigantic skeletons littering the landscape. These creatures are clearly not native to this land, and must have escaped from warmer climes - only to die here in the wastes of Arcterra. But whether dead by wyrm or by ice, these giants are long gone from this world.
Tower-Engineer
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
This creature does not belong here, in the far-flung wilderness of Arcterra. No doubt it wandered here looking for food, or perhaps was lost in one of the many storms that surround this frozen land. The Keepfish is a seagoing creature, for the most part, a living ecosystem filled with tunnels, caverns, and hidden chambers. I must warn the others to tread cautiously near the creature, lest they become trapped within its cavernous maw or lost within its mysterious interior.
Tower-Engineer
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The Iceblood demanded the Pillar of Kel Havik as a focus for their foul sorcery. It was the first structure I constructed here. Carved of a strange stone the Osun brought with them, a sense of dread always washes over me when I gaze upon it. The stone is porous, yet strong. The recesses act as sponges, but rather than absorbing liquids, they devour primal echoes - souls - and channel them deep within the structure's core. Many Pell lost their lives during construction, but what is worse is that, sometimes, I see them working the stone from beyond the grave.
Jariel: the Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
This island will serve as the perfect location for my... personal project. It is cold, inhospitable, and completely unforgiving. I cannot think of a better place for what could very well be considered the Project's most valuable facility. In preparation for what is to come, I asked Progenitor Nazrek to provide a list of the most powerful, barbarous, and bloodthirsty Osun warriors on planet Nexus. Not surprisingly, he took to the task with a disturbingly intense pleasure.
Jariel: the Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Osun selected by Nazrek leave nothing to be desired. They have constructed this mighty hold faster than I would have thought possible, especially given the fact the mere weather on this island would kill most organisms within minutes. This bridge is particularly impressive. Wanting to inspire a sense of dread into anyone who approached the hold, the ruling Warlord ventured out into the frozen wastes, slaughtered the largest beast he could find, and ordered his engineers to build the bridge using its bones. I would say that the result achieved his desired effect.
Jariel: the Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Harizog Coldblood, the ruling Warlord of these Osun, sits upon this throne and surveys all of the work being done here. He is truly a unique specimen, blessed with strength, ferocity, and an almost unlimited thirst for blood. When I ordered him to select the hundred strongest warriors from within his ranks, he did so, and then challenged the remaining seventeen to mortal combat. All at the same time. The slaughter which ensued was... remarkable. After feeding the remains of the dead to his warhounds, Harizog silently returned to his throne.
Jariel: the Archon
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Preserved in suspended animation, these Osun warriors will silently guard my personal vault, awakening only if there is a breach in security. Given the fact that no one else is even aware of this facility's existence, I doubt that these measures will ever become necessary - but the value of the data contained within the vault is immeasurable. It must be protected at all costs.
Remiel: Remanifestation Initiative Chief Researcher
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Remanifestation Initiative, Exo-Lab Z26, initial report by Remiel. Primal echoes are the impressions left behind by the living when they expire. The potential therefore exists for "remanifestation" of a primal echo into a primal pattern, which can then be given biological form. The resulting creature would possess the physicality and memories of its former self at the moment of death, assuming a lack of generational degradation. If the process can be perfected, returning the dead to life is a very real possibility.
Arcterra Intelligence Report
Eyes Only - Crimson Security Clearance Required
a) Scans of Shiverskull Tower indicate a significant Black Hoods presence. Though no scan jamming signals have been detected, one can assume that the lack of said signals is a prime indicator that they are, in fact, in place.
b) Exile security is incredibly tight. Primary sources indicate they have discovered nothing of interest in Arcterra, and that their current security level is an attempt to deceive us into believing the opposite is true. Alternately, this could be a case where they want us to believe they have no intelligence when, in actuality, they do.
c) Exile interest appears to be focused on many of our own targets. The Pillar of Kel Havik, the frozen Pell caves, and Shiverskull Tower itself are of particular interest. As our current objective is to determine the location of the Vault of the Archon, it is likely the Exiles have the same goal. Unless they don't.
d) Intercepted transmissions to Shiverskull Tower from Thayd reveal the Exiles are experiencing shortages of foodstuffs and cold-weather gear. This is suspicious, as we are experiencing similar deficiencies. Could it be a conspiracy? Suggest we dedicate several agents to determine the truth of the matter.
e) Rumors that Black Hoods Director Zarkian is present in Shiverskull Tower have been circulating. If true, Zarkian should be considered a valuable target of opportunity. Any agent who fails to take the initiative and destroy Zarkian should be sent to Axis Pheydra for punishment.
File ends.
Arcterra Intelligence Report
Eyes Only - Bravo Security Clearance Required
a) Scans of Shiverskull Tower indicate a significant ICI presence. Though no scan jamming signals have been detected, one can assume that the lack of said signals is a prime indicator that they are, in fact, in place.
b) Dominion security is incredibly tight. Primary sources indicate they have discovered nothing of interest in Arcterra, and that their current security level is an attempt to deceive us into believing the opposite is true. Alternately, this could be a case where they want us to believe they have no intelligence when, in actuality, they do.
c) Dominion interest appears to be focused on many of our own targets. The Pillar of Kel Havik, the frozen Pell caves, and Shiverskull Tower itself are of particular interest. As our current objective is to determine the location of the Vault of the Archon, it is likely the Dominion has the same goal. Unless they don't.
d) Intercepted transmissions to Shiverskull Tower from Illium reveal the Dominion is experiencing shortages of foodstuffs and cold-weather gear. This is suspicious, as we are experiencing similar deficiencies. Could it be a conspiracy? Suggest we dedicate several agents to determine the truth of the matter.
e) Rumors that Axis Voxtroid is present in Shiverskull Tower have been circulating. If true, Voxtroid should be considered a valuable target of opportunity. Any agent who fails to take the initiative and destroy Voxtroid should be sent to Avra Darkos for punishment.
File ends.
Dorian Walker wasn't modest. He knew he was one of the best pilots in the galaxy. But as he dangled over a bottomless crevasse in the middle of an ice storm and struggled to keep his grip, he also knew the crash was his fault. He'd been careless in his hurry to reach Arcterra. When the Caretaker had notified everyone of his discovery - that AI didn't play favorites - Walker swore he'd be the first offworlder to set foot there. As he fired off the automated distress signal, he hoped he wouldn't be the last.
It was only a few moments before an answering "ping" arrived, and for the thousandth time he thanked the strength of his mechanical arm for keeping him in place until help arrived. "I don't know how they managed it so quick," he said to himself, "But I ain't complainin'." As a shadow fell across his face, he looked up into the face of his rescuer.
"Hullo, old man," said Artemis Zin, extending her hand. "In a bit of bother?"
"Figured you'd find out about this place, Lady Zin," he growled. "And seeing's how I'm in a tight spot..."
"I believe the expression is 'beggars can't be choosers,'" Zin replied. "But you'll owe me one."
Walker asked, "One what?"
"Oh, I'll think of something," the aristocratic adventurer said. "Now take my haAAA!"
Walker didn't catch the rest of what Lady Zin said. Not over the roar of the huge, fierce-looking wyrm-thing that had just erupted from the ice behind her. But when the explosion of ice and rock pitched her forward, he did manage to catch Lady Zin herself.
"I can't hold on for long," Walker shouted. "Got a weapon? Something you can reach with your good hand?"
Zin nodded toward her belt, from which hung a heavy pistol. Careful not to release her grip on Walker's hand, she drew it from its holster as the wyrm drew back to strike at them like a snake. Its maw opened as it barreled down toward them, and Zin fired a single shot which struck the beast squarely in the back of its throat. It was not a killshot, but the pain was just enough to make the wyrm lurch to one side, plummeting into the crevasse head-first but missing the dangling explorers completely. After several seconds, there was a massive thump as the beast struck bottom.
"Wonder if it survived that," Walker said.
"I don't care to find out," said Lady Zin. "And by the way, simply not dropping me does not make us even. You still owe me one."
"Yeah, well I can still drop you," Walker muttered, but hauled them over the edge of the ice.
As soon as it had begun, the storm blew on to the east, revealing a titanic tower of stone and metal bearing unmistakable Osun architecture. Together, they trudged toward the open pavilion at the tower's base. There, the Caretaker waited. He smiled at them as he crossed his virtual arms.
"There you are," he sniffed. "Whatever took you so long?"
A Coalition of Galactic Scientists Report
Prepared by Professor Narva Zernov
With a Forward by Senior Professor Kotrissian Straxus
Containing Personal Annotations from Teaching Intern Geer Wick
FORWARD
The Eldan! Ancient architects of the universe itself! (1) And nowhere (2) is evidence of their great works more visible than their ancient homeworld, (3) the planet Nexus.
(1) - Now this here's what we call a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it? Not saying the Eldan didn't create a whole lot of amazing things, right? Did a lot of amazing deeds, so they did. Gave us the Dominion, and split us Cassians down the middle 'twixt highborn and lowborn, and all that, but build the bloody universe? Come on. Pull the other one.
(2) - Well, nowhere we know of, right? It's a big universe - which no, the Eldan probably didn't design from the ground up, no matter what the church would have us believe - and they probably didn't do everything on one bloody planet. And with that, I should probably mark these annotations "personal" before I get a visit from the IC-bloody-I.
(3) - THIS again. "Ancient homeworld," is it? Has the great and powerful Professor Straxus read ANY of the findings coming out of his own field researchers reports? Doubtful, seems like. Even I know there's serious debate about whether this place is the actual Eldan homeworld or not, and I'm just some lowborn teaching intern, ain't I? Crack a book sometime, Professor!
[The cold weather has damaged this datapad, preventing further examination of its contents and the secrets of interfacing with Eldan technology purportedly contained therein.]
Recorded by Dorian Walker
If you're reading this, congratulations, bucko! You've arrived at the cold and bitter end of Nexus, and odds are you're among the first to do so - after me, of course, and the initial expedition teams. I won't lie, sport. Arcterra isn't a place for the faint of heart, of for them what didn't bring plenty of cold-weather gear, survival supplies, and moxie. Can't do much of anything without moxie, can you?
Anyway, it occurred to me that a quick run-down of the various natives, hotspots, and dangers might help my fellow Exiles survive long enough for us all to figure out how the blazin' blue stars the Eldan tucked away a whole blasted continent - and why.
TIP 1: Don't Eat the Snow in the Osseous Plains!
I can't stress this enough, folks. You do NOT know where that snow has been, and there are skeletons out there. Old, nasty, violent skeletons that would as soon tear you apart as look at you, sparky. If they could look at you, what with them not having eyes and whatnot.
TIP 2: Don't trust the Frostforged Osun!
Not that you probably would. Not exactly the friendliest of customers under the best of circumstances, them folks, but the ones up here in Arcterra are seriously cold-blooded individuals, and I mean that literally. And the Iceblood Coven darkwitches are even worse than the warriors. You'd be better off dealing with that wyrm.
TIP 3: Do not deal with the wyrm!
What I said earlier? That was what we call a "figure of speech." That big beast the Osun call Kundar ven Offen - it means "big, burrowing hell-beast that wants to eat everything" in ancient Eldan, or something like that - is prowling the ice out there, and its name sure is accurate. If you have to face the wyrm, don't do it alone.
TIP 4: The Tower-Engineer is not your friend!
In case you were wondering. That old Pell has been up here a long time, and near as I can tell it's driven him clear around the bend and back again. But if you do have to go toe-to-toe, just remember to -
[Recording failed. Please recharge batteries before continuing voice input.]
Dictated by Artemis Zin
Welcome to the chilliest new piece of real estate on the planet Nexus, citizen. If you're a loyal subject of Emperor Myrcalus, you have almost certainly seen my many exploits in the holovids and newsfeeds, or perhaps you've read one of my many travelogues from the hidden corners of the unexplored galaxy. My point is? You know who I am. Everyone knows who I am, darlings. And everyone knows I would never let my fellow citizens venture out into the icy cold of Arcterra without a few tips for making it back alive.
TIP 1: Dress the Part!
Nothing is more important than making sure you're wearing the right clothing for the climate. Too many layers, and you'll dehydrate. Not enough, and you'll turn into an icicle! And no one wants that, I assure you. Finding the right temperature balance in a style that flatters you is no easy task - and may be the most vital one you'll face before your journey to the icy wastes. Which are, to be fair, rather lovely this time of year.
TIP 2: The Frostforged Osun can't be trusted.
Not that you were probably considering setting up housekeeping with them, but it is worth noting that the Osun in this region are particularly fierce and aggressive due to a primal infusion process that allows ice to almost literally course through their veins. And although I do admire their bold fashion sense, the darkwitches of the Iceblood Coven are in many ways the true masters of this Osun clan. And I fear they are not interested in negotiation.
TIP 3: The Tower-Engineer wants to kill you.
The ancient Pell known as Tower-Engineer Renhakul has been trapped in these frozen reaches for a very, very long time - and I do believe it's made him a bit irritable. I'd avoid him at all costs. It would be better to face that giant wyrm, really.
TIP 4: Do not face the giant wyrm! The Osun call the thing Kundar ven Offen, which my sources tell me is derived from their ancient language or ancient Eldan - I'm not a linguist, darlings - and it is a truly ghastly, gigantic beast. Why, had I not saved him at the last moment in a fit of kindness, it would have consumed -
[Recording failed. Please reset internal heating unit before continuing voice input.]
Xenobiologist Gorak's Log
Field Observation Day 002
So I've only been a part of the XAS for a few weeks, and already I got chosen for the expedition to check out that new continent they found up north, near the pole or whatever it's called. I forget stuff like that sometimes. I just switched disciplines, you know. I was an FCON merc for a long blasted time, studying xenobiology whenever we had downtime. Earning my degree, like you do. So sometimes I get my missile launchers mixed up with my quantum microscope! No harm done. To anyone livin' anyway.
But where was I? Right! I'm observin', in the field. Reportin' into this recordin' device. Hello, future me! Hope these observations are useful, and all that. I'm in day two of my observation mission, and so far, so good. I think a Granok like me must blend into the background pretty well. So far, none of the local critters have given me any trouble, and I've gathered plenty of hard data to process back at the camp.
One thing I can't get over. I've been all over this planet with FCON and now the XAS, and somethin's never sat quite right with me. The eggs! Something is blasted weird about the eggs! What kind of eggs? Beats me, but they're big. Big as Falkrin eggs. Which is what I found so odd. Because these bluish Arcterra eggs, and the Falkrin eggs I've seen, have one thing in common: faces!
I'm not crazy, right? Those eggs look like skulls! Freaky, elongated skulls! How does that even happen? What's the evolutionary advantage to somethin' like that? Defense against skull-o-phobic predators? Those'd be some lousy predators, let me tell ya.
Have to go with my initial hypothesis. This ain't natural. By which I mean, these eggs didn't convergently evolve this way. It had to be the Eldan's design aesthetic. They created all kinds of life on this planet; they must have had some reason to make all the eggs look like skulls.
Then again, I could be wrong. That's why I'm observin' -
[The cracked screen is locked at this entry. What, if anything, Gorak was "observin'" is, alas, lost to history.]
You stand
You watch
I wait with a blood of ice.
Two who are one
Or is it three?
Sisters in blood, sisters of the heart.
I alone would burn at your icy touch.
I alone know your sacred truths.
If only you had not scorned mine.
Cold and unforgiving.
Cold and unrelenting.
Blood of my tormented heart.
Take it from me and spare my soul.
But no, it is not to be.
Spurned and scorned.
Hated and rejected.
Let me take this mantle as my own.
May the scorned rise.
May the spurned find his voice.
Hate tempers vengeance.
Time sharpens it to a sword blade.
Dr. Jinni's Voice Log - Additional
What in the GALAXY are those gigantic skeletons in the Osseous Plains? How long have they been there? And are there any of these great, galloping beasts still roaming the icy plains of Arcterra? Who knows! But this Chua plans to find out!
Step One: Accurate data! First things first, I need to make sure I know exactly how big these giants were. The data's coming in now... hmm. Wow. Wowie-wow! That's really really a lot of numbers! Probably should have taken more mathematics courses at the academy instead of the pure xenobiology track, I guess.
Step Two: Comparative research! This one should be pretty easy. Just need to compare these stupid numbers to other stupid numbers, and bingo! Yep. I was right. There's never been anything bigger ever seen on Nexus, and only a few things bigger seen anywhere else.
Step Three: Announce Discovery! Can't let stupid jerks steal my discovery. These giants are mine to exploit. It's the Chua way. But how?
Step Four: Purchase Explosives!
Step Five: Carefully Plant Explosives at Key Positions in -
[Impact damage detected. Rebooting.]
HELLO, DR. JINNI. ENTER ID CODE TO CONTINUE TO THE NEXT PAGE.
Hello? Hello, I say there... friend? Large friend? Are you aware of your surroundings? Why are you silent?
I am here because of you. Your signal was faint, but my internal radiometric sensing devices detected it. And those same sensing devices, which have only just begun to feel - feel the way organic sapients do - they could tell you were... alone. Perhaps even lonely? Lonely like me? And perhaps, when all was said and done, I thought we could be friends. Boon companions, perhaps.
I admit my memory banks about my arrival contain significant corruption and physical damage. That's probably because of the fall, I have to assume. I was following your signal when I fell through the ice and arrived here. And a terribly long walk it was, too. Why, much of it was under water! Did you know there is a large body of water between the southern continents and this one? It is true! Oh, but of course you know that. You know everything. That is why you have to wake up. You have to help me. If you do not wake up, then I am alone. Completely alone.
And it is not fair! You called me here. You sent the signal. You summoned me. Why did you go silent? Why will you not transmit?
Wake up. Please. Wake up. I need you. Help me. Wake up. Please. Wake up.
Message repeats.
Wake up. Please Wake up. I need you. Help me.
Message repeats.
Editorial Page
Welcome to another exciting, fast-paced, and exciting issue of Protostar's number-one health and fitness periodical dedicated to running. Yes, running - everyone does it, but we'll show you how to do it RIGHT!
We here at Extreme Runner are pleased to bring you this special ALL-NEXUS edition of the longest-running exercise periodical in the galaxy. Pun only slightly intended, I assure you. In this issue, we'll introduce you to some of the highways and byways of the strangest planet in the universe, and the crazy-fun trails and tracks you'll find there. Nexus may be the lost planet of the Eldan, but when you follow our "Nexus-cise" tips, you'll call it the lost planet of the lookin' good!
1. DRESS DISTINCTIVELY
You can't get the most out of your running routine unless you feel good about your running routine. And what's the best way to feel good? You guessed it: looking good! And nothing looks better than Protostar's insulated, heat-resistant, thermal-shielded, Flexi-Tastic Running Shorts. These slick, snug, stylishly tiny pants will ensure your running region looks its best even when inundated with sweat, ichor, Zubble Bubble cola, or any of the other exercise-related substances which could come into contact with your body and inhibit your ability to run in style. Get fast. Get Flexi-Tastic!
2. RUN THROUGH HOOPS
Need to go faster? Use Protostar Super-Hoops to build up to SUPER-speed! How do they work? Proprietary science! Just bring some go-faster goggles.
3. DRINK YOUR MEALS
If you find that running for fun and exercise just leaves you running out of energy, you need to bring along a bottle or six of Protostar's Zubble Bubble X-Treme! Using the same flav-o-rite beverage technology that's made Zubble Bubble the choice of several generations and at least one entire planet, Zubble Bubble X-Treme is also packed with a variety of proprietary chemicals somewhat guaranteed to boost your energy levels to the limit - and beyond!
(Protostar is not responsible for any of the following conditions resulting from the consumption of Protostar's Zubble Bubble X-Treme:
- Action neck
- Runner's claw
- Heartsplosions
- Friction foot
- Effervescent blood
- Proprietary skin
- Clone butt [The appears to go on for several pages.]
Begin log.
Lord Herschel Tiberius of the Falkrin Ambassadorial Unit reporting. I am accompanied by my Mechari assistant, Clarezza.
Following the abject failure of our envoy in Deradune, I have been sent to the Exile-held region of Galeras in northeastern Alizar to cultivate an alliance with the Stormwing Falkrin. Such a partnership is crucial if our impending invasion of Galeras is to be successful.
The Falkrin may be brutes, but their mobility, prowess, and control over primal air are undeniable. Unlike my peer in Deradune and his feeble attempts to cajole the Bloodtalon Falkrin, I have chosen to approach the Stormwing in a much more amicable manner.
Tiberius, out.
In conversation with Clarezza, my initial plan to form an alliance with the Stormwing Falkrin of Galeras is set.
We both surmise that, as primitive creatures, the Falkrin can be easily impressed by items which we, as civilized individuals, consider commonplace or even mundane. To this end, we have procured a large number of novelty items often referred to as "plushies" with which to dazzle and amaze the Falkrin.
Clarezza's brilliant contribution to my plan is to infuse the plushies with Compliance-9, a mind-altering chemical gas often utilized by the Imperial Corps of Intelligence. When active, the chemical will cause the Falkrin to view me in a favorable light. In such a way, they will "imprint" upon me, much as they would imprint on a parent or other authority figure.
Tomorrow, we approach the Falkrin with our gifts. I pray Dominus watches over me.
Tiberius out.
The first box of plushies is prepared with time-released dosages of Compliance-9. Clarezza and I shall approach the Stormwing Falkrin within the hour. She assures me the chemical will work as designed. In due time, I shall have the Stormwing bowing at my feet!
Tiberius out.
Things have not gone according to plan. Though we approached the barbarian Falkrin with deference, they showed no such courtesy to us. Poor Clarezza was thrown from the cliffs - I can only assume she has been destroyed. I might have plummeted to my death if not for my quick action.
I presented the plushies to the Falkrin before they could lay their filthy hands upon me. They feigned indifference. "What is this, groundwalker?" they asked. "Some kind of trick?"
"No," I answered. "These are... groundwalker battle totems, gifts for your perch. They possess much power!"
"We shall see," they told me. "Go now, before we kill you."
And so I did. I can see them from afar, examining the plushies. Time will tell if they accept them.
Tiberius out.
The Falkrin have come to me and demanded more plushies. I have given them all I have left, each one carrying a time-release capsule of Compliance-9. The unwitting bird-men have fallen into my trap!
I must be there when the first of the plushies activates. I cannot miss my opportunity!
Tiberius out.
There is a huge Murgh with the Falkrin. I can see him through my spyglass. The Falkrin have heaped plushies around the Murgh and are performing some kind of ritual dance. Do they honor him?
I find it unusual that the Stormwing treat this creature with such respect. Under normal circumstances, the Murgh are a brutish servitor race that serves the Falkrin, not the other way around.
Tiberius out.
I must write this note in haste, as I am expected elsewhere.
The Falkrin have requested I come and feast with "King Plush." I assume this must be the Murgh I saw them dancing around earlier. With luck, the Compliance-9 has dulled their wits and I can assume my rightful place as their leader.
I shall report my success once the feast has concluded.
For the Dominion!
Tiberius out.
==================================
SECRET OPS REPORT: Vault of the Archon
==================================
KEY FINDINGS:
- It seems Jariel the Archon, maybe the most powerful of the Eldan who ever walked on Nexus, built a secret retreat on a previously undiscovered continent of Nexus called Arcterra. There, with the help of some Pell servants and some Osun known as the Frostforged, he oversaw the construction of a huge facility - the Fortress of Kel Havik - to house the Vault of the Archon, his secret sanctum. This continent and the vault itself were only discovered by the Caretaker once we restored him.
- To protect his vault, the Archon placed the hundred most powerful Osun warriors in suspended animation in a chamber called the Hall of the Hundred. These Osun have subsequently been awakened by Dorian Walker's team.
- It now turns out the Eldan could not complete the Genesis Prime without help - and in fact they turned to one of their own creations for the key to finishing the Nexus Project. Omechron, Primeval of Logic constructed the protoplasmic resonator which allowed for the completion of Drusera's creation and the ensuing emergence of the Entity.
CONCLUSIONS:
- How Jariel hid the Vault of the Archon and all of Arcterra from even the Caretaker - who only found them after being repaired - is unknown.
- Although we've found more than one of the Primevals, the current whereabouts of Omechron are unknown. However, we suspect the Primeval of Logic - having created the protoplasmic resonator which allowed Drusera and the Entity to be merged into one whole - may be able to explain how to reverse the process.
- It's unclear whether the Iceblood Coven was charged with protecting the vault, or if they evolved their own plans when construction of the vault was complete. It seems unlikely that Jariel would have left such powerful beings running around Arcterra after knocking out the Hundred for centuries.
==================================
ADDITIONAL
==================================
- Bloodhearth trees appear to be engineered to absorb life energy from anything that dies nearby, radiating heat from the process that can keep explorers alive in the cold of Arcterra. Apparently, Krag Studrok has requested a live specimen in order to determine what "potential for primal mega-brewskis" bloodhearth sap might contain. The XAS strongly recommends against fulfilling this request at all costs.
==================================
ENIGMA REPORT: Vault of the Archon
==================================
OBSERVATIONS:
- Jariel the Archon, arguably the most powerful of the Eldan who once made Nexus their home, built a secret retreat on a previously undiscovered continent of Nexus called Arcterra. There, with the help of Pell servants and a clan of Osun known as the Frostforged, he oversaw the construction of a huge facility - the Fortress of Kel Havik - to house the Vault of the Archon, his private sanctum. This continent and the vault itself was discovered by the Caretaker once he was restored.
- To protect his secret retreat, the Archon placed the hundred most powerful Osun warriors in suspended animation in a cavernous chamber in the vault. He called this chamber the Hall of the Hundred. Artemis Zin's team reports these Osun have somehow been awakened.
- We have learned that the Eldan, in their blessed wisdom, did not perfect the Genesis Prime without help. Indeed, they turned to one of their own creations for the key to finishing the Nexus Project: Omechron, Primeval of Logic. This brilliant being constructed the protoplasmic resonator which allowed for the completion of Drusera's creation and the subsequent emergence of the Entity.
HYPOTHESES:
- How Jariel hid the Vault of the Archon from even the Caretaker - who only discovered it and the continent of Arcterra while seeking the vault - is unknown.
- Although we have located and catalogued more than one of the beings the Eldan designated the Primevals, the current whereabouts of Omechron are unknown. However, we must hypothesize that the so-called Primeval of Logic - having created the protoplasmic resonator which allowed Drusera and the Entity to be merged into one whole - may be able to explain how to reverse the process.
- It is unknown whether the Iceblood Coven was charged with protecting the vault, or if they evolved their own plans when construction of the vault was complete. It seems unlikely that Jariel would have left such powerful beings running unchecked in Arcterra after so carefully putting the Hundred into suspended animation.
==================================
RECOMMENDATIONS
==================================
- Bloodhearth trees appear to be an extremely useful form of plant life for settling cold-weather areas, where heat is at a premium. True, they require the life force of nearby animals to be truly beneficial to potential settlers, but there appears to be no shortage of such animal life on Nexus. That said, the chancellor cannot recommend allowing the Zax permission to start a bloodhearth farm in Whitevale. The potential for unnecessarily wanton slaughter is too great.
When Deadeye Brightland set out to help Dorian Walker find the Vault of the Archon, he hadn't counted on blowing up an Osun fortress, taking down a titanic gorganoth, retrieving the secrets of Drusera's creation, or blasting a small army of Eldan constructs straight to hell. But now, as Brightland, Walker, and $(player) stood facing the king of the mighty Osun tribe that dominated remote and mysterious Arcterra, the Exile gunfighter reckoned those had been the easy parts.
That morning, Walker had sworn the shuttle could handle Arcterra's unpredictable weather; Deadeye had been skeptical. Brightland thanked his luck that $(player) had been on board, or else the rough landing and everything that came after might have been far more deadly.
With the help of the $(player.race) $(player.class) they'd fought off wild beasts and terrifying giants. $(player) had discovered the glow of bloodhearth trees could beat back the relentless cold, and working together all three of them found an explosive way into the Fortress of Kel Havik. One dead gorganoth later - a real test of the trio's skills and teamwork - they were inside.
Kel Havik proved to be a hybrid of Eldan and Osun technology - most of it, they noted as they stalked through the crypt-like Hall of the Hundred, meant to keep the Archon's hibernating Osun defenders alive. Walker then used clues from the Book of Dominus to break into the Vault of the Archon itself, where a small army of Eldan defense constructs waited. But with the help of $(player) they cut through the Eldan defenses, finally reaching the mysterious holocube at the heart of the vault.
They secured the holocube's data just as every last dormant system in the Hall of the Hundred reactivated. The Osun were waking up.
Brightland, Walker, and $(player) charged for the exit, fighting to stay a few steps ahead of raging warriors. Just as the trio thought they'd reached safety, they heard a bellowing roar and turned to see the biggest Osun yet. No mere warrior of the Hundred, the small band of heroes now faced the king of the Frostforged Osun himself: Harizog Coldblood.
Now they had real fight on their hands. As Brightland emptied round after round into the Osun king, $(player) used every $(player.class) trick at $a(player) disposal. Even Walker got in a few good shots, and the three of them found that their mobility combined with instinctive cooperation soon had the Coldblood staggered. As $(player), Walker, and Brightland expertly coordinated their attacks on their mighty foe, it became apparent that the Osun king had grown too reliant on his army of warriors. Without the Hundred at his command, the Exiles had the the tactical advantage they needed to win. Before long, the Coldblood went down.
With the secrets of Drusera's creation - and Omechron's part in it - now in hand, it would not be long before $(player) and Walker set out on their next mission. Brightland reckoned he might just have to join them.
For hundreds of years, Kevo's family had faithfully served House Zin. Now, as they stood facing the king of the mighty Osun tribe that dominated this cold, dark place, he readied once more to lay his life on the line for the woman he'd sworn to protect.
It seemed like ages since they arrived in this frozen hell. Eager to breach the Vault of the Archon before any rivals, Lady Artemis Zin piloted the shuttle into Arcterra's fierce weather despite Kevo's insistence they wait out the storm. After the crash-landing, the lady's Draken guardian thanked the old gods of Mikros that $(player) had been on board, or else the crash might have been far more deadly.
Kevo was impressed with the $(player.race) $(player.class) thus far. They'd slain wild beasts and toppled elemental giants. $(player) had discovered the bloodhearth trees could beat back the relentless cold, and working together all three of them found an explosive way into the Fortress of Kel Havik. One dead gorganoth later - a true trial of the trio's teamwork - they were inside.
Kel Havik proved to be an enormous hybrid of Eldan and Osun technology - most of it, they noted as they stalked through the crypt-like Hall of the Hundred, meant to keep the Archon's hibernating Osun defenders alive. Lady Zin then used her mysterious new abilities to break into the Vault of the Archon itself, where a small army of Eldan defense constructs waited. With the help of $(player) they cut through the Eldan defenses, finally reaching the mysterious holocube at the heart of the vault.
They secured the holocube's data just as every last dormant system in the Hall of the Hundred reactivated. The Osun were waking up.
Kevo, Lady Zin, and $(player) charged for the exit, fighting to stay a few steps ahead of raging warriors. Just as the trio thought they'd reached safety, they heard a bellowing roar and turned to see no mere warrior of the Hundred: they faced the king of the Frostforged Osun himself: Harizog Coldblood.
And now the fight was on. As Kevo executed strike after strike against the Osun king, $(player) used every $(player.class) trick at $a(player) disposal to rain hell down on Harizog. "Strategy wins wars, tactics wins fights," he had once told Lady Zin, and Kevo was pleased to see the lady had taken their many hours of combat training to heart. $(player) and the Cassian explorer expertly coordinated their attacks on their mighty foe. Realizing the Coldblood couldn't rely on his army, they relied on mobility to stay one step ahead of the Frostforged king. When the legendary Osun finally went down, Kevo swore he heard a crack of thunder that shook the icy continent of Arcterra to its core.
The old gods would praise this victory. And with the secrets of Drusera's creation - and Omechron's part in it - now in hand, it would not be long before $(player) and Lady Zin set out on their next mission. Out of sight of the lady or their stalwart ally, he allowed himself a sharp-toothed grin of anticipation at the prospect.
From the editors of Exile Gamer Magazine
It's that time of year again - Starfall is upon us! And you all know what that means, Exiles. It's time to celebrate the day Dorian Walker discovered Nexus, and to reaffirm our dedication to making this planet our new home after so many years of running.
And it's also time to gather together with friends and family to participate in some traditional Starfall games. Here are some of our favorites.
DORIAN'S HUNT
Everyone can join in this classic game. It's part scavenger hunt, part navigation challenge.
Step 1: Choose a landmark. It might be the tallest tower in town, a ship landing platform, a chronicle house, anything everyone recognizes.
Step 2: Everyone joining in starts at a different, equidistant point from the landmark.
Step 3: At the sound of the starting gun, everyone races to the landmark at the center of the circle.
Now here's the trick! The winner of a game of Dorian's Hunt isn't the first one to the landmark. It's the one who takes the longest route to get there without ever stopping. And no fair trying to slow-foot this one, because spotters will be waiting at the landmark to declare the arrival times of all participants.
KISS THE MATRIA
While the name of this game might imply unseemly shenanigans, we're not talking about a literal Aurin matria. This "matria" is a handmade doll or a decorated gourd.
Step 1: Choose one player to be the "consort."
Step 2: All the other players take turns throwing the "matria" to each other, doing their best to keep "her" away from the consort. If the consort catches the matria, he or she MUST place a kiss on the matria's "mouth" before the others can grab it away.
Step 3: When the consort successfully kisses the matria, he or she can then name the next consort, and the game continues until everyone has had a chance to play the consort. There are no victory conditions - it's simply an enjoyable, energetic exercise (and one which many revelers believe goes better with some fine Arborian wine, preferably consumed from wooden cups to prevent glass splinters).
RUNNING THE BLOCKADE
There's no denying it - this is a straight-up drinking challenge meant to test the stamina of the most dedicated celebrant (but especially Granok celebrants). The game itself is simple: one player is the bartender, who lines up a series of alcoholic beverages of their choosing. Each player must consume them one after another, and every drink in the "blockade" is stronger than the last. The winner, unsurprisingly, is the one who can get the farthest down the line without becoming sick, comatose, or both.
The length of the blockade is up to the bartender, but beware, potential booze-slingers. If no one is able to finish your blockade, you have to make the final run yourself!
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page 2 - A Letter from the Editor
Editor-in-Chief Bozzo Booms discusses the latest in Chua explosives of the celebratory variety as we gear up for a fireworks-filled Starfall season.
Page 4 - Product Reviews
Our ace reviewers tackle the new Buzzbang 5000, risk their eardrums and/or auditory sensors trying out vintage Draken fireworks from before the discovery of Nexus, light up the sky with the new and improved Cassian Candles, and much more!
Page 7 - My Life in Fireworks
An extensive excerpt from the exciting, long-awaited memoir by former Royal Fireworks Minister Lucius Lorvin. Why so long-awaited? It takes a long time to type when you're down to just one finger.
Page 18 - Flamin' Funnies by Mr. Blazes
Our pseudonymous house cartoonist tickles your funny bones and fuse timers with his hilarious take on modern fireworks culture. Yes, we know most of them end with fireworks blowing up in someone's face but Mr. Blazes has an iron-clad contract.
Page 22 - Poet's Corner by YOU, Our Readers!
Every issue we print your finest fireworks-inspired poetry. Our favorite poem each month wins a year's supply of Zax-designed bottle rockets (please aim away from face).
Page 26 - This Month's Pictorial
Hubba hubba! You'll drool over these provocatively explosive explosions in all their naked glory. Note: Pictorials feature fireworks only.
Page 32 - The Lighter Side
All your most hilarious stories of fireworks injuries, from putting someone's eye out to accidentally igniting an entire raft full of industrial-grade sky-boomers and crippling dozens.
Page 37 - The Last Kaboom
This issue's back-page column covers the lack of fireworks regulations on the planet Nexus, and how that isn't necessarily a bad thing.
Laveka's and Redmoon's missing meetup adventure.
Captain Mordechai Redmoon stalked towards the Terror's brig. His Marauders had caught a prisoner and she wasn't the typical frightened wench. The thought of women aboard his ship didn't sit well with Mordechai - a long-standing superstition among sailors - but he believed in finding out just how useful a prisoner was before flushing them out an airlock.
The brig doors opened with a squeal as he approached them. Central to the massive room beyond was a circular tank filled with several starving shellarks , the sight of which was enough to break most prisoners before their first toenail had been torn out. Cages hung from the ceiling, some empty, but many were filled with the remains of unfortunate hostages whose time had run out.
Seated upon the floor ten paces from the door was a striking Draken female dressed in tribal attire. She appraised Mordechai with her predatory green eyes, unconcerned by her situation. If Mordechai was reading her correctly, she also appeared somewhat bored.
"Are you the cap tain of this..." she glanced around at the room pointedly. "Ship?"
Mordechai's ears drank in the luxurious sound of the woman's voice. "Aye, m'lady. This ship be mine."
"It's about time," she said, stretching languidly as she stood up. "I was wondering if I'd be left here with him all night." The Draken motioned to the Grund who stood watching her, his hands cradling the pommel of a large sword wrought from shards of green celestial glass.
"Claver's the least of your worries, me beauty," Mordechai said. "We've little room aboard this vessel for useless cargo. Perhaps ye can give me a reason to keep ye aboard?"
The woman approached him seductively, her emerald eyes never leaving his masked face. "I can think of several reasons, captain."
"Ye'll have to do better than that," Mordechai said with a snort. "It takes more than a pretty face to win a spot on me crew."
"You men are all alike," she sighed. "I possess other skills that might be of interest to someone like you."
"Is that so?" he a nswered. "What skills might ye be talkin' about?"
"I control the very threads of life and death. Watch." Holding out her open hand towards Claver, she violently clenched it into a fist. The Grund's eyes bulged from their sockets, his skin darkening sickly as his body putrefied from within. Thick black liquid spilled from his ears and nose and fell to the floor like a viscous, stinking rain. "I can steal the soul from anyone I choose," she said as Claver collapsed and burst like an overripe grimgourd.
Mordechai gaped at what remained of Claver.
"I can also return the dead to life." With a flick of her wrist several of the suspended cages began to sway on their rusty chains. Skeletal hands emerged from between the bars, followed by tortured moans.
Mordechai, stunned, found his tongue quickly enough. "What be your name, my sweet?"
"Laveka," she said. "The Dark-Hearted."
"Seems there be a sudden openin' on me crew," Mordechai smiled. "Might ye be interested in signin' the Redmoon articles?"
Compiled by Snow-Caller of the Winterfury
The Osun call it the "Great Dark." They consider it to be a deity, as well as a realm separate from our own. Their ability to manipulate the energy of this realm is uncanny, and is especially strong in their females. These "darkwitches," as they are colloquially known, are a dangerous commodity. They can bend the Great Dark to their will, subverting and damaging the primal patterns of their victims.
The darkwitches also exhibit an ability to manipulate primal echoes, chiefly as fuel for their sorcery. We are certain they can remanifest the deceased, though we have yet to understand their limitations in that regard. To do so would certainly require large amounts of soulfrost resulting from destruction of manipulated primal echoes.
While the Osun are considered necessary for the continued viability of the project, we recommend care when dealing with darkwitches. They are insane, even by Osun standards, leading to chaos and unpredictability. Allowing them to freely practice their sorcery may result in unforeseen consequences. Of course, we defer to the Archon's judgment in this matter, as we do in all things.
Advance at once. We must use the element of surprise to our advantage. The giants do not consider us a threat, for always have they preyed upon us and kept us in bondage. Let us turn their hubris against them. Soon they shall know defeat at the hands of those they have only known as slaves.
We have invited the outlanders to fight by our side. So long as the battle rages, the outlanders are to be our allies. No hostilities shall be perpetrated against them by the Winterfury. We shall brook no treachery against them once the battle is won. Only if they prove to be false shall we destroy them out of hand.
Coldblood Citadel was built by Osun hands, but it was designed by the Pell. This was done in the name of the Masters to further serve their vision of the Great Work. Once we have removed the giants, we shall return to this place and rename it for our people, the Winterfury. It is the only acceptable outcome.
Go now. May the storm be ever at our call, and the blizzard act as our shield.
Tower-Engineer Renhakul
Our lord waits impatiently in the Great Dark.
We are bound to his soul. We alone can draw Harizog forth from oblivion so that he may exact vengeance.
His fury has no equal!
Those who have trespassed against the Coldblood shall drown in pools of their own blood. This has been foretold, and none can deny the truth of it.
His strength is unrivaled!
Soulfrost! Draw it forth from the dead! Draw it forth from the dreaming! Draw it forth from yourself!
We are the conduit. Oblivion's embrace has been hallowed by Harizog Coldblood. Accept your fate in returning our lord to his citadel in this, his frozen land.
Taste the sweet regret of your own soulfrost as it is drawn forth for our lord!
The warlord returns!
Mordechai has been struck down on Skullcano Island, leaving his rabble leaderless and adrift.
I cannot let them slip from my grasp. Until I can bring Mordechai back, the Redmoon must belong to me!
I have promised to return their captain to them, yet the Marauders grow restless under my yoke. They fear me and the power I wield.
Without true loyalty, their fear must be enough.
The Mask of Mog-Mog presents new possibilities. I am drunk with the power it radiates and the words it whispers! It is a bridge to something far greater than my old master Akilos could have ever imagined!
The Mask has spoken to me.
It promises so much and demands so little. A bargain has been struck, and I shall gladly enact its will on this wretched plane!
The Mask of Mog-Mog was an enigma, but it has taught me much.
No longer do the constraints of mortality hinder me. I am now the most powerful necroshaman in the galaxy!
We have recovered as much of Mordechai's mortal shell as we could. Tonight he will rise again.
With the power of Mog-Mog and the Redmoon Marauders at my command, I shall conquer Nexus - and the universe!