Blackhawk's log, Stardate 2334.2
Since being dumped on this jerkwater world I have discovered only two
things of interest: 1) the natives are so technologically primitive
as to have an unshakable belief in magic, and 2) though it smells rotten,
roast beast is actually quite tasty.
My client's research requires the carcass of a Brachana, a
creature more likely to be found on this planet than any world within
10 parsecs. The nature of the research is unknown to me by mutual
agreement, but given the sum offered it must be lucrative. I'll
require local guides to complete the mission. The Seeker's Guild
office is likely to attract the best talent, though on this planet
"best" probably means "no longer knuckle-walks".
I'll check in there this afternoon.
Blackhawk's log, Stardate 2335.7
Even without ground effect vehicles this planet has some lousy
drivers. I had recruited a group of locals only to be nearly run over by
a horse-drawn wagon. They are the best of the local talent.
Urk - A blade. Very, very strong (must be the gravity), and speaks
well for himself. Somehow doesn't always seem to understand what he's saying.
Sigmund - A giant of a man. He's obviously not running on all
thrusters, since he is convinced he can control the "magic" that he claims
pervades this planet.
Frisbee - A quiet type, knowledgeable about the local flora
and fauna. Claims to be a monk following the "golden path", some kind of
road to enlightenment. I can relate.
We leave tomorrow. We'll meet up with Vlad at the city gate.
Sigmund's family owns some land nearby, we will stop there for provisioning.
The Narrator
Brachana are native to another plane of existence, though they
can break through the barrier in areas where the Essence flows more strongly.
The party searched for a way to find such areas, and came upon a shop whose
door was simply labeled "curious goods".
On entering they found a dusty room lined floor to ceiling with
multiple bookshelves, each piled to capacity with tomes. The shopkeeper
in back was a gnome named Edwin, who after some consideration sold them
a Mana Compass which always
pointed to the nearest Earthnode.
Sigmund's Journal
E'll not tell us why he wants the beastie so badly, the bastard.
I understand why one might want such a thing dead, but I kinnae fathom
why 'e wants to drag it back to the damned city to be carted off in one
of their hell-fired skyships. Wouldn't ye know that halfway to me family
farm we get found by another damned monk. He must be daft, he won't speak
at all just waves his hands about like a skaroth in heat. The young lass
seems to understand him though. She must be daft too.
Our employer decides to follow this J'uroch fellow back to his
monastery. Seems like a bloody waste of time, but I'm not the one paying
the bagpiper. The little lass and the mute spend an hour or two inside
the gates, and then we take our leave.
The Narrator
The party, now accompanied by J'uroch, went to the monastery
of the Golden Path. There Frisbee receives instructions that she is on
the Path of her destiny. J'uroch is instructed to accompany Frisbee and
guide her on her Path.
The party then proceeds to Sigmund's family farm, where an old
Coalition wheeled transport captured by Sigmund's father 20 years before
lies hidden in the barn. The transport has not moved under its own power
since it was captured, but there is hope of repairing it.
From: Vlad@middleofnowhere.forgottenplanet.net
To: Da5id@blacksun.com
Subject: What idiots
So we get to the farm and we find the ground effect vehicle
and do you know what was wrong? They had shut the fusion reactor down.
How stupid, they had shut the fusion reactor down. I mean really if you
were a primitive man on a low tech world surely you would know better than
to shut a reactor off since you would know that without a power grid to
start the cascade you wouldn't be able to get it started again and it would
have to sit there for years until someone came along with enough power
cells to rig up a starter circuit for the reactor, which is exactly what
happened.
I had to wire a bunch of utility and weapon cells in series
to get the voltage high enough to trigger the inrush to start the reaction.
It exceeded the current limits for the cells, but those things are over-engineered
to the max and I don't think it will hurt them any but if it does we'll
have to find some new ones since this planet probably doesn't have the
facilities to recoat the cathode and anode and replace the electrolyte.
J'uroch
[Editor's note: J'uroch is signing wildly, trying to describe what
happened next. Unfortunately this planet does not possess video recording
equipment. We will therefore skip ahead.]
The Narrator
With the wheeled transport restored to function, the party made
more rapid progress. They traveled east, following the Mana Compass direction
until they came to a rocky outcropping which the vehicle could not traverse.
They camouflaged the car as best they could and set out on foot, still
following the compass needle.
They emerged from the canyons to a vast inland desert, obviously
shielded from the rain by mountains on all sides. In the center of the
desert Blackhawk's distance lenses picked out a building, and the mana
compass pointed directly at it. Checking their waterskins, the party trekked
across the desert.
As they approached the building they noticed a flying creature
hovering over the ridge they had just left. The distance lenses showed
it to be a humanoid winged creature, but no detail beyond that. [Editor's
note: The creature's purpose was never revealed]
The structure was of Coalition build, though unusually for a
Coalition structure large Runes were inscribed on all four outer walls.
There was a electronic card lock on the door.
Sigmund's Journal
The Runes were powerful ones of containment, runes I had only
seen in the pages of the Book of Wards at the Master's library. The pasty
lil' man opened the lock on the door and we entered the Coalition base.
We found several dead and mangled troopers in the first room, the poor
bastards had been disembow'ld.
Deeper in the building we found three of the magic windows [Editor's
note: computer terminals] which Blackhawk seemed to think were import'nt.
I dinnae ken why, they were bolted to the floor and obviously not the thing
the runes were keepin in, but Blackhawk always did have some daft ideas
in that pointy head of his.
The Narrator
The computer was running a program which was taxing its capacity
greatly. Vlad was able to access a debugging mode, and discovered that
somehow through its calculations it was affecting the structure of the
space around it. There was a glowing area in the floor on one side of the
room which seemed to be a rift, an area which grew slightly in size as
the party watched.
Vlad decided to kill the program, which he believed would allow
the rift to close.
Sigmund's Journal continued
At last we found some action. A li'l green demon dinnae sense
us. We opened a door and there he stood writing more runes on the wall
in blood, using the liver of one of the poor bastards in the entryway.
I read the runes, and started to shout that they were to open a portal
in the runes of containment but Urk was already in motion. Urk drove his
morningstar into and through the bloody little thing and embedded it into
the floor! As me grandma always used to say, "Any man who can embed the
head of a flail into a steel floor, make that man your friend". This Urk
fellow isn't such a bastard after all.
excerpt from a letter Urk wrote to his mother concerning the adventure:
We ventured down to the underground levels of the Coalition
base, still attempting to ascertain what was causing the gaps in the fabric
of space-time we had witnessed. We discovered what was obviously the living
quarters for the technical staff, which featured a largish collection of
preserved specimens of the local flora and fauna and several beds and desks.
I checked under the carpet of the chamber and noticed the tell-tale outlines
of a floor safe. Unfortunately I did not heed the advice you oft gave me
in my youth, namely "be careful". I grabbed the handle in the floor and
immediately felt a great energy flow through me. The hair on the back of
my arms rose, my stomach started to convulse, and I could not let go of
the handle. Some of the energy jumped from my body to three of my companions,
who I can only assume felt the same effects from it as I did. Frisbee,
that wonderful woman in my adventuring party whom I told you about, grabbed
something from the room and pried me away from the safe.
I lost consciousness for a moment, and when I awoke I had another
of those strange experiences I used to have in the first year after my
reappearance: I could not control my body. I tried to move my arms, with
no effect. Strangely enough I could still focus and close my eyes, only
my limbs were affected. I still have no recollection of the years I was
missing, nor indeed do I remember most of my childhood, but I am firmly
convinced that these strange episodes of immobility are a side-effect of
that experience. Right after I returned almost any mishap would cause me
to lose control of my limbs. It has not happened for many years, and thus
I had incorrectly assumed that that phase of my life had passed. Apparently
a great calamity is now required, but the symptoms are otherwise the same:
my extremities won't move. I followed the procedure you and I developed
so many years ago: I willed myself to relax, and pictured myself going
to sleep and then waking up. I heard that strange little beep, just like
I always did after one of these episodes, and then I was able to move again.
When Frisbee pried me loose I involuntarily tore the safe in
the floor open. We found a
"computer",
like the ones the Coalition use, but this one was magical. We found a first
aid kit, and a massive weapon that Blackhawk called a "Plasma Repeater
Rifle".
My companions were understandably concerned for my well-being,
but I let them know I was fine. We continued on, but soon discovered that
the tears in the fabric of space we had encountered on the first level
were a fairly mild symptom of whatever was happening in this area. The
entire second level of the complex had been altered. We walked down a completely
straight hallway but ended up back where we started from!
Blackhawk's log, stardate 2347.6
The damage to the space-time continuum was worse than I thought.
The building floorplan no longer obeyed Euclidean geometry. Hallways and
rooms folded back upon themselves in ways that I could understand from
a theoretical perspective but could not grasp in the practical. We pressed
on, and reached the elevator shaft to the third level. Sigmund and I entered
the elevator, leaving the rest of the party above. We discovered later
that the distortions had spread to the time stream as well as the rest
of the party waited 20 minutes for us to return then split up to find a
way down, while from Sigmund's and my perspective only a moment had passed.
The elevator lowered us into a small building in an oasis in
the middle of a huge, hazy desert. I can only surmise that we dropped into
an entirely different plane of existence, and that the Coalition must have
been deliberately opening a portal to that plane through the calculations
of the Mk 20 computer in the first level of the complex. The elevator would
no longer function as it had been cut off from its power rails when it
dropped into this plane.
After less than a minute from our perspective Urk suddenly dropped
from a distortion 10 feet off the ground and dangled from the ropes about
his waist. The ropes extended back up into the distortion, which obviously
led back to the plane Sigmund and I had just come from. Urk was completely
disoriented from the jump across the planes, and was unable to take any
coherent action. The ropes began pulling him back up through the hole.
Urk must have regained his senses and told the rest of the party what he
had seen, because they all began to come down the rope.
The Narrator
The party encountered several other beings in the rift, called
Reathenor. Blackhawk was able to negotiate with them, if a gruff "stay
out of our way, scum" from a Reathenor qualifies as negotiation.
Everyone laid in wait for the Brachana. Two of them came, looking
like Tim Curry in Legend but with scythes for arms. The Reathenor fired
several rounds at them and then closed for hand-to-hand combat. The Reathenor
got toasted, but not before inflicting heavy hit point lossage on the demons.
Our heros, through the good work of the Plasma Repeater Rifle, finished
the job and were left with two smoking Brachana carcasses to prove it.
Sigmund's Journal
We hoisted the smoldering carcass of the smaller beastie up
and dragged it out of the damned building. Th' runes were still intact,
but they were not the sort of runes that could close the tear in the plane
that damned Coalition contraption had opened. The runes would hold the
tear within their confines for a wee bit, but the problem would still be
there.
We made a litter to drag the carcass across the desert, and
turned our sights back to Shakarnoth where that little bastard Edwin could
tell us how to close the hole in the plane. We were halfway across when
Frisbee spotted two of the demon-fired flying contraptions [Editor's
note: Coalition atmospheric fighters] heading towards us. We had only
a wee bit of time to react, but they flew past us and attacked the building
we had just left with their bolts of hellfire. The first shot caused a
huge explosion, and the fire swallowed the second flying contraption.
We began to move faster then, until we noticed three riders
heading across the sand towards us. Urk and I dragged the beastie behind
a rise in the sand, where an Unseen spell made sure those bastards
would nae find it.
Malloch's report to her chieftain
It was as your dream had foretold, we found the group of six in
the middle of the great desert with the body of a powerful demon laid out
on a travail. The three of us rode to greet them in your name, and escort
they and their cargo to safety out of the way of the Essaence storm which
approached. We did not recognize them immediately, as they had concealed
the demon with a spell of invisibility. It was a wise precaution for them
to take until they knew our intent. I was able to dispel the invisibility,
and to prove our good intent.
The storm began its fury before we made it out of the desert.
We traveled the ravines until we found the entrance to the safe caves mapped
out by our ancestors long ago. The group of six prepared their equipment
to ride out the storm. Magical items attracted the wrath of the primal
Essaence, but deep within the earth none of its blows could strike us directly.
A minor cave in occurred in the caverns behind us from the force of the
lightening strike. Strangely, the six seemed more concerned about their items
of Coalition manufacture, breaking them down into their components and
storing them safely away even though the storm would take no interest in
such items. Truly, they do have beliefs which seem strange to us.
The essaence storm blew for four and twenty hours, then moved north.
While it blew I healed the most serious of the wounds afflicting them.
Given the tremendous battle against two powerful demons, they had emerged
miraculously unscathed.
The Narrator
The party was able to drag the Brachana carcass with them all
the way back to their transport, which had made it through the Essaence
storm unharmed. They noted the wreck of the second atmospheric fighter
nearby, and went to investigate. The only salvageable piece was a
communications package,
which is designed to survive a crash as a "black box recorder"
and as emergency communications for the crew should they survive (in this
case they did not).
The party loaded the Brachana and the comm package on top of
the vehicle and headed back to Shakarnoth. On the way the communications package
was able to tune in transmissions from Coalition fighters near Kulthea's third
moon of Orhan. The transmissions of fighter pilots did not have their usual
tinge of arrogance, probably because they were getting their asses kicked.
Malloch had told the party that "the Lords of Orhan are on the move".
Overheard at the Gentlemen Loser, a bar near the spaceport
Eight years, I've worked on this backwards planet. Eight long
years. I see everything interesting on the planet in my job, because everything
interesting on the planet was imported from offworld and that means it
came through my loading docks at the spaceport. Weapons, drugs, even recreational
synthetic organisms, everything comes through the port.
You have to expect a certain amount of backwardness in the native.
I mean, hell, they're primitives. They barely know how to talk, let alone
grasp how civilized people should live. So like I said you have to expect
a certain amount of bull from them. What I can't stand is when the bull
comes from the Coalition. Take today, for instance. The spaceport's closed,
no-one gets in or out, so I'm making the best of it by watching some of
the contraband videos we seized last month -- looking for evidence, you
understand. All of a sudden some Althan knocks on my door. He's got a cargo
sled loaded up outside. I waved him off -- 'cause the port was closed,
ya see -- but he kept knockin. I opened the door to give him the what-for
when he hands me the manifest and shipping orders. I'll be damned but its
signed by the Commissioner himself. So let me get this straight, I had
to tell Captain Heliod that very morning that I can't get his packet sent
back homeworld, but this Althan and his half-wit native guide -- big fella,
too -- can ship whatever they please, and I'm not even to inspect it
according to the Commissioner. Stars! I hate this stinking planet.
Sigmund's Journal
I'll hae to admit, I dinnae know if the False Credentials
spell would work on an outworld man. It worked, damned well too.