Cecil ignores Vincent's demands knowing that associating himself too much with a soldier who epitomized the Eridani's imperial war machine wouldn't serve him well at the diplomacy table.
"I want your artifact because the Eridani want your artifact," he states simply and attempts a cautious step towards the center of the room. "From the looks of your men, you know the odds that await you. Through my greed, I was able to postpone the inevitable by choosing not to lower the gate for the Dragoon waiting outside. Whatever you have is important enough for them to issue their heaviest artillery to root it out. I'll admit I don't know what their purpose is for this... whatever this is, only that it would be one less bit of power for them to hold over us."
He gives another boisterous laugh, finding much enjoyment in the words your spoke as he absorbs the strange situation at hand. He seems slightly confused, yet his interest is peaked.
"What you speak of is treason. You, an elite soldier of the Master's Army, seek the strength to overthrow his Master's Army? Please, forgive my suspicions, but this could easily be a trap, or an attempt at deceit."
He looks to Vincent, pauses, and then looks back to you...
"But I am very keen when it comes to lies. And I see this mutiny between you and your superior is genuine. Tell me, have you pondered this for a while? Why have you worked so hard within their ranks only to betray them? If you truly seek asylum, you will have to humor me and divulge your change of heart."
You looked back at Vincent, he looked at you, his eye-brows positioned in a state of worry and fear for one's life. He's your friend. He's just ill from war; addicted to adrenaline. As he continues to look at you, his panting slows down a bit, and his look of worry changes to a look of epiphany.
Dragoon: The path of Dragoon is initiated if you acquire the artifact and deliver it to your superiors. Your reward will be a promotion into the Deoxul, the Dragoons of the Draconic Fleet. You would be the first human dragoon, which would be a historic moment for mankind. You will construct your own dragontech armor and weapons (gradually, as part of the story), and will be able to exchange respective fighter abilities for any of the modifiedDragoon's archetype (even retroactively. You are still considered a lorewarden first, however, so those abilities are what you would exchange). These are the results of acquiring the artifact. How you participate in the dragoons is entirely up to you. You can go double agent, and support the rebellion from within the Eridani's ranks. Or you can be more noble, and believe in the dominion and support its cause... whatever that may be. For the most part, they keep the peace, crime rate is down (or just reallocated to the orc-slums), and economies thrive. So they are not necessarily evil, they just deprive you of your human-sovereignty. You also eventually gain access to their sky-city called Selest, which has a population entirely of Eridani. You will uncover their grand plan as you advance in the campaign, regardless of what path you choose. This path requires you to acquire the artifact, which might entail fighting and killing Turok, or grabbing the artifact and escaping, or convincing him that you will bring them the artifact only to rise in their ranks, benefitting the rebellion... whether you mean it or not is up to you.
Civility: The path of Civility is initiated if you do not acquire the artifact. You do not become a dragoon, and depending on how the Introduction ends, you may be honorably or dishonorably discharged, or simply relieved of duty.... as in you quit and become a civilian again. Choosing this path grants you a large sum of money (your GI bill). This is a significant amount, and it will allow you to do whatever the f+*! you want with it. You can start a business, become a mercenary, become an inventor, a politician, open a brothel, or an adventurer's store (like, go out and adventure, find tons of shit, bring her on back and sell that dutch). In addition, you gain Focused Study (Profession) or (Craft) as a bonus feat. This path is the most versatile, or "sand-boxy", path, and the player can still progress the main game and gain XP, potentially becoming powerful people in the world. You can also decide to join the rebellion if you'd like, or you can enlist with other armies other than the Draconic Fleet. You will be unable to rejoin the fleet unless unforeseen circumstances occur in-game. I should note that all paths eventually lead to you getting dragontech, but not dragoon equipment unless you learn how to make it yourself (which requires special in-game training). In order to not receive the artifact, (a)Turok either defeats you in battle, (b)Vincent acquires it first, beating you in your competition, (c)Xir Zellec acquires it, or (d)you let Turok escape with his life. This will prevent you AND Vincent from getting the artifact, and none of you will become dragoons, leaving you both relieved of duty, and Vincent remains a potential ally if he survives.
Rebellion: The Rebellion path is similar to the Dragoon path, in that you become an active member of an organization. Your actual motives are still variable, however. So you could join the rebellion, and either support the Dominion from within their ranks, or actively fight against the Eridani. More traditionally, you will gradually build the revolution in an attempt to usurp the Master Race. All paths can eventually lead you to acquiring dragontech. If you choose the path of Rebellion, you gain Disable Device as a class skill, and your alignment shifts to TN. You also gain access to resources provided by people of the resistance. The resistance is very amorphous and has no name, people simply refer to it as the resistance. People either are, or aren't part of the rebellion, it's as simple as that. Certain merchants who support the resistance might provide significant discounts on wares, or offer specialty items such as black-market goods, and very rarely; dragontech. You will not earn a salary like you would being a dragoon, but you gain significant discounts, so it balances out. For this path to activate, you need to (a)agree to join forces with Turok, potentially triggering Vincent to turn hostile, (b)let him escape, still potentially triggering hostility from Vincent, or (c)Zellec appears, potentially (but most likely) killing Turok, and taking the artifact for himself, in which case Vincent has the potential to remain an ally and be convinced to join the rebellion. He would replace Turok as an NPC, and still have the modifiedDragoon archetype and still determined to create his own armor. So you'd essentially have a pseudo-dragoon in your ranks. There is a chance Turok can survive in this scenario, and you can keep Vincent and Turok. But for that to happen, you would have to prevent Zellec from killing Turok, which you would increase your chances of doing by convincing Vincent to join you. As you already noticed with him, he is not happen with the Dominion, and only seeks to become a dragoon for his own personal gain.
All paths can lead to dragontech, XP, quests, and supporting one faction over the other. Though the Civility path is sort of neutral, you can always choose to support a faction later in the game, though you would not be able to become a dragoon (but could be a pseudo-dragoon) nor would you get access to special resources from the resistance (but you'd be able to get restricted goods through other means). Or you can remain entirely neutral on the Civility path and uncover the secrets of the Master Race on your own terms, assembling your own team and headquarters and advancing the main quest as a sort of expeditionary. There is a chance Vincent can die regardless of what scenario you choose. Do not think him evil, as many people think orcs are disgusting savages. He just has a license to kill them.
These are the paths laid before you.
"We're just dogs to the Eridani; one wild and one domesticated. I would imagine being bitten by the dog I trained to protect me to sting worst of all."
A thin smile plays at Cecil's lip as he takes another, more confident, step in Master Turok's* direction. "I joined their army because they fight better than us. It didn't make sense to me to learn tactics in failure from the weaker side. I instead chose to learn from them their superior ways in technology and warfare. I did this so that one day I could use it to tear them apart."
In full stride, Cecil advances towards the box containing the artifact. "Give it to me and I will claim that I've won it. You will have an invaluable mole in the Magus Infantry. I promise they will promote me for this. The only thing closer to the elite tier of their army is a damn Dragoon. Think of what you could do knowing the short and long term plans of your enemy."
Vincent stares at you confusingly...
...and then comes to the false realization that you are deceiving Turok, and decides to play along, though he cringes at the idea of you becoming dragoon instead of him.
"Don't try this again, Mace. They are too powerful. Even if you do become a dragoon you would still not be an Eridani! Just face the facts... we've been their dogs for 65 years and it won't change... just please, at least let me live, I don't want to be in their army no more! I don't want to be anyone's dog!" He sounded rather frantic and passionate, almost wimpy. The orcs looked at Turok with confused looks on their faces. Turok gestured to release Vincent.
Turok stares at Vincent and glares, then turns his attention away back to you...
"Your proposal is sound and has value. But you ask me to give up this object, a key to uncovering their weakness. I cannot so easily part something so valuable to our cause. Then again... a human dragoon. That could...." a loud explosion is heard just outside. The sound of conflict moves closer. Zellec was likely approaching.
"We do not have much time. We must decide on what to do with your partner. We will let him live, and we will put the artifact into your possession. You will then let us escape. Your partner is a liability. I would advise you take care of him yourself, as I will not condemn him. If he were to expose you, it would not matter to us, as you would be immediately excommunicated from the resistance, and all traces to us will be destroyed. Shall we end him now, and save the inevitable from the future?"
Vincent pleads, "Please, I just don't want to do this anymore. I won't snitch, Mace is my comrade, and I'd give my life for him. I want out of the Fleet and nothing to do with them, and I hope your rebellion drives the dominion back over The Spine. Please leave me with my life... I beg you..."
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Cecil looks at Vincent with a noticeable worrisome expression. "Let him live. We'll need a scapegoat for the orders we've ignored. He'll likely be discharged but left with enough gold to live life however he pleases."
To Vincent, "This will be for the best, my brother. You need to distance yourself from this war before it saps away the kindness in your heart."
Another crash sounds somewhere nearby, signaling Zellec's advance. Cecil stands over the chest residing the well sought after artifact. "If you're going to leave, I suggest you do it now." He slides his hand over the ornate, alien inscriptions detailing the case and edges hesitantly towards the latches locking it shut. "You won't want to be here when they arrive."
Your words appear to have moved Vincent. You are not sure exactly what he is pondering. You know how dangerous he is, and he could easily take down all four of those orcs now that he no longer has a knife at his throat and a maul aimed at his manhood. You paniced slightly when Turok ordered the guards to release him, for fear of him retaliating and charging for the artifact. To you surprise, Vincent appeared compliant and somewhat submissive. You were aware he was struggling with some issues of the grander genre: the smothering thoughts of one's place in the world, their power, their worth and to who's standards to they hold them to. You two have shared talks before about these things, but always dodging what you truly wanted to say. The more you traveled and learned about the world and the nature of things, such as your history and the rebellion of your ancestors, the more you despised living life under the Dominion of the Master Race. When you enlisted, you sought only to understand and acquire their dragontech, never paying much attention to the thought of usurping the Dominion. Though you enjoyed and benefited from the training and the life of soldier, it also at some point made you question your place in the world as well. Eventually you grew to disdain the dominion but never really expressed it, and so today was your chance to put the odds in the favor of the resistance. It seems Vincent might be easier to persuade than you had thought, considering his shared feelings which are similar to yours.
"If you're going to leave, I suggest you do it now." He slides his hand over the ornate, alien inscriptions detailing the case and edges hesitantly towards the latches locking it shut. "You won't want to be here when they arrive."
Turok: "Yes. I have had the pleasure of combating with the giant." he says, pointing to his left eye that is wrapped in bloody rags. "There is much I have learned from him."
Lore: Upon close inspection, the tattoos on his body and the designs on his long-coat mostly consist of dragons, which is a style mostly accustomed to ningentu. There embrace of the Master Race's culture and religion has led to drastic changes in their society compared to 65 years prior. Dragons have found their way into their art and architecture, and of course, their tailoring.
Turok: "It is agreed then. We will contact you. You do not contact us nor will you associate with conspicuous rebels until deemed to do so, less all of this be for not. We are giving up a significant amount for this to happen. I hope you realize that. The power a human dragoon can wield.... make it worth losing this artifact..." he gave a quick chuckle as he realized something, "well, I suppose we could always just steal it again. I am not sure if I will be seeing you again. If so, it would likely be in battle. This must work at all cost."
Him and his men made their way to the large windows behind the throne. There they had ropes already anchored and ready for repelling down into possibly the ocean, though you are not sure. His men repelled first, and after them he hopped onto the window, holding the rope. He looks back at you and says....
Turok: "There is something I think we have overlooked. The Eridani will cease their assault once they have the artifact. Your "defection" is saving hundreds of lives. On behalf of the Khazahar, you have our thanks. You are taking a great risk, one punishable by death, for the resistance."
He dropped out of the window, and escaped the main hall. You looked at Vincent and he looked at you, you both hesitate to say anything to each other, unsure of what you both were thinking. You have agreed to assist the resistance from the role of dragoon . Vincent was hear to witness everything, and is now a significant liability, though he believes you are tricking the resistance. Though his expressions now make you wonder if he would have rebelled if he were in your position. He hated being their dog just as much.
Vincent: "That was quite a show, Mace." he said somewhat confused and solemnly. "This is interesting. You have the chance to become dragoon because you outsmarted the enemy. You beat me AND Xir Zellec to the artifact. You have a way with words, Mace. A true anthrosian. At this point, I still have the authority to command you to give me the artifact, or I could kill you and take it from you. But you know what, Mace... I truly am tired. You can either be a dragoon or a dog in the Fleet. I think I will opt for the civilian life once again. You're right about my kindness: war has decayed that side of me. Gods it almost feels painful to feel joy. You'd think I was born an orc."
He grinned, reassuring your friendship. He placed his hand on your left shoulder...
Vincent: "You have done a lot of good for the fleet today. Whatever this artifact is, it is of extreme significance to the giants. A dragoon would not be here if it wasn't. You're a good soldier, Mace. And a lot better than I... well, when it comes to integrity." He looses another half-smile.
"I would say today was a good ending to my career."
With that, you two started heading out the way you came. The main hall doors that led out to the courtyard were to heavily barricaded. It was too dangerous to go out into battle while in possession of the artifact, so you and Vincent decide to take the stairs you had passed, and attempt to call the Caryx to pick you up. As you climb the stairwell, Vincent takes leave as you hold the strongbox under your left arm, sword drawn in your right hand. If you encounter any orcs and they attack, you will have to defend yourself. Luckily only one was encountered on the stairwell, which Vincent instantly impaled and through to the side. At the top of the spire, an orc crossbowmen laid bolts down into the fray below. Vincent ran up behind him, grabbing his legs and throwing him over to the courtyard (or bailey) below.
He pulls out a dragontech device and activates it. It chimes and emits a bright thin beam straight up, endlessly into the sky. A crown-like circle of stilts stabilizes the beacon on the ground. You could see the enormous Caryx flying high above in the slightly clouded, pink and orange sky of twilight. It begins to move toward your position, pivoting and accelerating and what appears to be a slow pace though it is probably moving quite fast. You and Vincent look over the wall of the spire to find Zellec. The only fighting occurring in the bailey is between human soldiers and orcs; Zellec is no where to be found.
Vincent: "Hah. That's strange. Maybe he sunk in the moat?"
The Caryx flew overhead. It's familiar light-green beam of energy, similar to what was used to drop you out of the ship, levitates you upward and a much slower pace compared to when you fall. You rise into the sky, the land below becoming smaller and smaller. Other smaller dragontech ships, or "rune-crafts", approached to gather the rest of the Fleet. The Caryx swallowed you and Vincent with its beam, ending with you and him slightly floating above the fell-ward, which can be set to function as a solid surface. Gently, the force floats you down onto the solid fell-ward. Inside, Zellec and his posse stand before you, his armor covered in orc blood. He just stares at both of you, and one his posse steps forward to address his commands...
Posse 1: In broken common, [bigger]"Xir Zellec of the Deoxul, the Shimmering Spear, the Radiant, the Last Sight: Commands: The Oma Stone go to Selest, the City in the Sky. Beg not your masters for favors unwarranted. You will be rewarded with your masters' reception of a merited request. A rare occurrence, a human in the sky... The Radiant stresses your presence there be prompt and uninterrupted. The Oma Stone is under your protection until it is placed in the hands of the Valikar."
In the typical cold and near emotionless nature of the Eridani, they turn their attention away from you and disappear into other parts of the ship. You and Vincent stare at each other again...
Vincent: "The sky-city... its been so long since I've seen it floating up beyond the clouds over Neo Ikarus. It will be nice being closer to home."
With that, Vincent also disappeared into the ship, probably to his quarters. You pondered about what you had just done today. Vincent at least seemed calm, if not almost relieved you acquired the artifact and not him. Perhaps the civilian life would be better for him, though the adjustment will be difficult. You will potentially be starting a whole new life, should the Valikar comply with your request and make you the first human dragoon. The eagerness to bring this so called "Oma Stone" to the hands of the Valikar was unbearable, so you quickly went to your vault on the ship and locked the strongbox inside, quickly returning to your quarters to get some much needed rest.
The Oma Stone. Cecil could not fathom the purpose for the device he had won. In his quarters he turned the strongbox over and over again, studying its every mark in detail.
You examine the strongbox intently, sifting through some of your personal resources you have access to in order to decipher the inscriptions engraved upon it. You hear a chime, indicating someone awaited you at your door. You set the box down on your small dinner table (I'm assuming these dorms include minor furnishings, and appropriate appliances for cooking. All dragontech ;)), and you make you way to the door. You flash your hand over a a jewel inlaid into the door frame, and the door slides into the wall, revealing a human, possibly anthrosian. You recognize his slightly heavy stature, and lack of color, indicating he probably was not an infantryman. It finally clicked; this gentleman is Creon Larosse, a portly sort of an, kind but more a bother than a blessing. You disdained his weakness and his constant need for a scratch behind the ears from his masters. But he proved useful when it came to gathering information. He is a well of knowledge, so you decided to tolerate his presence, even though you shuttered when you realized how much time you might be spending with him.
"Corporal Macer, sir. May I join you in your quarters to discuss the artifact?"
He's obedient, respectful, and reliable, but still, something about him made you just.... hate the f#$~ out of him...
Cecil allows a wan smile and gestures Creon into his quarters, "By all means. It's on the table."
He closes the door and steels himself with a deep breath before turning and joining Larosse for their academic collaboration. Cecil did everything in his power to keep the relationship civil and professional, however, keeping any personal ties from breaching discussion was a task that required absolute attention. Creon was good at gathering information, a mixed blessing that brought him to the door to begin with; of course this meant that Cecil was a possible subject of the rat's interest. Between his tenacity and sycophantism, he would need to be monitored with grace and, worst of all, respect.
"Thank you for assisting me with this, Creon. I'm very interested to learn what it is that granted me the honor of visiting the Selest. An object of desire held by many, so I'm led to believe. Would you care to impart some of your O so valuable insights to a me?"
It's sickening to have to grovel to such a meek little pissant but I suppose it could be worth it in the end.
F%*# BAGS!
Just posting with Mr. Tivolt to get him in the player tab.
"The strongbox is obviously a type of dragontech," he said as soon as you finished speaking. He walked passed you directly toward the strongbox. "I've seen these before. Our Masters covet these boxes like fiends. Some of the other guys were talking about how they think Turok stole the strongbox from one of their temples. He used to be a slave, ya see. But he was no match for Our Masters' magi! Ain't that right, corporal sir?" He came off more mature and informative at first, but slowly his mannerisms regressed into a puppy-like state; awaiting your praise.
Vincent: "Oh stop your groveling, private. We barely had to cast a cantrip. What with Zellec on the field. I swear it felt more like I was at the beach than a battle." Vincent appeared unexpectedly at your door, out of his armor and into his magi fatigues, which consist of a robe .
Vincent comfortably made himself at home and sat in one of your chairs. "I'm curious as to how a private would know anything about the Oma Stones. I had only heard of them myself last night after the Caryx snatched us up." He had an accusing demeanor, though it was friendly. "Does your occupation grant you clearances?"
Sibley Wright: Sibley's posture straightens and his child-like enthusiasm about the strongbox fades. "Yes, sir. I am an Archivist, or an Erata. We are entrusted with protecting, organizing, and analyzing hard-copies of information. The Masters do not let us access their orbs, but they grant us access to most of their tangible libraries."
Vincet[coyly]: "That's.... great to know, private Wright. How about giving us some more details on the Oma Stones? At least as much as us magi are allowed to know... Shit, I can't even invoke the chain of command to get out of the dark on these things."
Sibley: "Of course, sir. Though there is little to tell. I only know bits and pieces of their story from Eridani religious scripture. It is believed that the Oma Stones were a gift to the ancient Eridani from their gods; these dragon-kings that they worship. The Masters were visibly irritated when that filthy orc, Turok, escaped with one. There is only speculation as to how he got a hold of one, but according to scripture, the Oma Stones were buried in large temples dedicated to their dragon-kings. Maybe Turok was a miner? Some 60% of orcs are miners..." he began to babble... "... it is very feasible he came across it during an excavation and fled..."
You found his interpretation of Turok strange, though it was much similar to your prejudice. At first, he was a filthy barbarian, wearing the feet of dead bantulu-children as a sash, and carrying a giant stick for a weapon. But to your surprise, he was quite the opposite, and perhaps that instant of realization that not everything is what it seems, led you to confirm your ambitions , and start fighting battles for what you truly believe in.
Vincent[interrupting]: "Yes, you are certainly knowledgeable private, but I can give a steamy pile of roc shit about their religion. Do you know what it does?"
Sibley: "Uuhhhh... no sir?"
Vincent: "Then f~#+ off."
He loves shattering the egos of his subordinates, especially ones with access to secret information.
Vincent: "Don't spend all day in here trying to read those runes. I doubt even private Wright can decipher draconic. At least that's what I think it is...."
Cecil enjoyed Vincent and Sibley’s short exchange as he poured himself a glass of water from the flagon left out on his table. ”Thank you for your time, Sibley, I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind,” he tells the departing archivist, raising his drink in a mock-cheer as he struggles to hold a smirk at bay.
”Well aren’t we feeling cordial this morning, Sergeant? Suppose I should thank you for getting rid of that worm. I suspect he’s now on his way back to the rest of the bookkeepers to express his opinions of us so the less time spent with him, the better.”
Cecil takes a seat, skirting the tail of his robe aside to drape from the chair. ”I take it you’ve had some time to think things over. What are you planning to tell the Eridani council when we make it back?”
"That's what I came here to talk to you about, actually... As your commanding officer, Mace, I have to report what happened in the main hall of Otaku. You acted against orders, ignoring the commands of a superior officer, and you also set into motion a grand scheme, seemingly at the flip of a coin, and are now you're acting undercover. Luckily, the only person you really are endangering is yourself. Now," his tone lightened, "me personally; I thought that was smart. Turok may have escaped, but now they have a leak and we can potentially always have the advantage on the rebels. But, I have a job to do, and my job is to report to the giants in the sky everything that happened."
You choked a little, having a sudden worry that you would be placed before the Zorashti, and potentially dishonorably discharged, despite having the artifact.
"But lucky for you, Mace, I'm leaving. I've been doing this for two years past my obligatory six, and frankly, it's consuming me. I think I'm ready for a vacation; maybe to Ghael. I've been meaning to pay my former academy-fling a visit. Supposedly her father has made quite a bit of money since I last saw him, so maybe I can marry into that estate. Gods, I hope she didn't get all fat on me..."
Like the cocky sort he is, he assumed she would be available upon his return, though he truly had no idea.
"But needless to say, I will no longer be your sergeant at the end of today. I'll be resigned before we land in Neo Ikarus and therefore, I will have nothing to report. I have to say, I'm somewhat relieved you're the one presenting the artifact..."
His last words seem somewhat empty. Like they're compensating for what he truly feels. You've known him too long and know his body language.
"Turok may have escaped, but now they have a leak and we can potentially always have the advantage on the rebels."
Turok escaped because I need him as an ally. A contingency plan for when I get my hands on enough dragontech to pluck Selest from the sky.
""But needless to say, I will no longer be your sergeant at the end of today. I'll be resigned before we land in Neo Ikarus and therefore, I will have nothing to report. I have to say, I'm somewhat relieved you're the one presenting the artifact...""
"A vacation will be good for you, Vincent. You would be wise to take your leave before you're in too deep."
I can't have you here. You're a liability. Even now. Still, more than ever, a liability.
"What about your debriefing? Doubtful they'll just let you walk away without prodding you for answers." A cool reluctance took over Cecil's thoughts. "They might try to forcibly extract some of those answers... I hope you're prepared for this."
The slow decay of Vincent's psyche was the one thing Cecil feared the most. The man could be guided with the trust and friendship they shared but his mind was unhealthy and potentially exploitable.
"Hah. Yes, they would no doubt find whatever information they would want from me. They have their ways. But I honestly see no reason to hide this. It is a benefit to them, having you pose as a rebel. I sure they will be pleased with your tactfulness."
He paused for a second, looked toward the door as your heard a subtle grumbling sound.
"Sounds like I'm getting hungry, Mace. Join me for food in the mess hall?"
With that you, locked the strongbox into a small safe in the room, usually used for your own belongings. The rest of the trip was routine, save for the static chatter from the rest of the human crew, who were debating what wish you would ask of the Eridani in addition to the normal banter. By the next morning, the Caryx arrived at Neo Ikarus, beginning its ascent to Selest.
You make your way to the deck of the Caryx, where you look upon the capital city of your people. There it sat on the coast, edging the Peritus Sea; a body of water that separates Anthropos from the lands of Manava and Bantu. Directly west of Neo Ikarus is a cluster of mountains called the Pales, which are named for their high limestone content. East of Neo Ikarus is a large wildlife preserve known as the Heartwood, because of its central location on the main island. The main island is called Ikaria . You are from the island of Ereborne, which is to the east of Ikaria and is accompanied by its sister island, Lustal . The people there are known for their exotic features, such as violet and orange eyes, platinum and light-blue hair . Vincent is from the northern reaches of Ikaria, specifically Northwind. It is a harsher environment, but a prominent city nonetheless.
::cough:: Anyways, Neo Ikarus.... the center of the city is the most populated and most repaired. As one makes their way to either the underground, or the outskirts of Neo Ikarus, they will find less reconstruction, less technological adaptation, and less people. The government building, which is the seat of all the Ambassadors that represent the city-states of Anthropos, is conspicuous among the sprawl of the city. The Caryx flies high above the tallest buildings and the human-made airships that coast through the sky. The city became smaller and smaller as you felt the rune-craft increase its speed and change its direction, advancing toward Selest.
You hear some commotion behind you; the familiar sounds of the men placing themselves at attention. A high ranking officer must be approaching.
You turn and immediately stand at attention when you noticed it was Xir Zellec, giving the proper salute of the Draconic Fleet. It consist of the left arm being placed across the chest, the hand shaped as a spear, and the right fist pressed against the left palm, forming a triangle without the base at the center of the chest. His pace is direct and each step is placed with great intent. He approaches you, but never lays his eyes on you. It's as if he was staring out into the great distance behind you, never making eye-contact as he began to speak.
"Your achievement: Commendable. Stature: Tall. Force of Spirit: Essential. The Valikar: A gift offered. Their power extends beyond your being. Their gifts: life changing. Your mind: juxtaposed with mind of Dragon; mind of us. Your gift: potentially unfathomable. Caution is demanded."
His stone-like, grinding voice to this day still makes you feel uncomfortable. Its alien nature conflicted with what your brain naturally can interpret. You also find it surprising that Zellec was talking directly to you, albeit without looking at you. Outside of battle, the Eridani warriors seemed like constructs of the landscape; tall, stoic, and eerily silent. To see them move rapidly or speak was a shock every time.
Cecil found himself without an appetite to speak of since his Southlands encounter. Out of habit he broke his fast on bread and fruit while he penned his spells for the day. It was common for him to lose himself in the grimoire for hours at a time. The tome had slowly evolved more liken to a journal as opposed to the tedious encyclopedia of spells the fastidious wizard would have written. His pages were script with drawings, quotes, poems and the occasional enchantment. When he finished sketching the final details of the Oma stone into his spellbook, he rose from the table, donned his robes and buckled his swordbelt. With careful hands he closed the artifact back into its case and tucked them both into the satchel at his back, snug beside his grimoire. Aside from a few crumbs and a bowl of cherry pits, the room was bare. His armor and the rest of his belongings were neatly packed into a chest at the foot of his bed. He would be back for it when the Caryx found harbor in Selest.
His steps were high and musical as he approached the deck of the great Eridani airship. He entered and smugly noted the looks of jealousy and contempt of his fellow - human – crewmen then found a space by the window to witness their progress. Unfazed, Cecil watched as Neo Ikarus swelled on the horizon and faded in the clouds. I can see why it’s so easy for them to view us as ants from up here.
The hurried shuffle of men lining up heralded Xir Zellec’s arrival giving Cecil just enough time to turn and follow suit. Though the Eridani never labored to meet his eyes, Cecil kept them fixed on Zellec’s.
"Your achievement: Commendable. Stature: Tall. Force of Spirit: Essential. The Valikar: A gift offered. Their power extends beyond your being. Their gifts: life changing. Your mind: juxtaposed with mind of Dragon; mind of us. Your gift: potentially unfathomable. Caution is demanded."
The corner of Cecil’s mouth twitched; a smile? Nervousness? Likely both. ”Where caution is demanded, caution is applied,” Cecil replied, meekly in comparison to the monstrous Eridani. ”I humbly await your orders, Xir Zellec.”
With that, he pivoted and progressed in the direction of the door leading to the innards of the ship.
The floor of the deck is made of a strange material that feels like a cat's tongue, but provides excellent traction. The door leading to the inside of the Caryx has a strong sheen and rippling texture, making it appear to be made of a fleshy material. Upon touch, it is actually made of some stone; a common material in Eridani technology and architecture. Obsidian in particular is a popular material; though that is strictly what it looks like. The properties of their technology are very misunderstood, and speculation is the only source of any understanding.
You approach the doors, which at the wave of your hand over a gem, they slide into the wall in a somewhat rapid motion. You make your way to the fell-ward, where you see Xir Zellec standing at the edge. He is dressed in his dragoon fatigues; a fierce looking set of clothing resembling the monstrous nature of their gods, and even fiercer when one sees his plethora of badges. It is important to understand that even though the Eridani think less of humans, they have their own standards raised for themselves to seemingly unreachable heights . For an Eridani to be decorated, they would have to have accomplished a lot, with abilities beyond that of mere humans. They are of a different biology; one stronger, faster, and more cognitively capable of observing life from a pedestal in the sky .
Vincent appeared as well, also in his uniform. But Zellec began to speak.
"Reicker Tivolt: assemble with Zorashti; complete report. Post report: assemble in the temple; the tomb of the Outer Beings."
You felt the ship slow down gradually to a complete stop. Almost immediately the chime sounds and Zellec drops through the fell-ward.
"I know I probably do not need to tell you, but I'll be debriefing the Zorashti. For now, you are supposed to await me in a room provided for us within the temple, it's not hard to find. Most of the city is off-limits to humans, so don't go wondering if you don't know where you are going."
"And try not to hit the ground hard. I'm sure that is something I also don't need to tell you... See you in a few hours, Mace. When I return, I will no longer be your sergeant anymore."
He extends his hand to yours and says, "This has been fun, Mace."
After a firm hand-shake, he drops through the fell-ward. After a few moments, you hear the chime, and fall through, engulfed ones again, as you've done so many times, in a glowing green aura, like the stream off a comet. The glorious city of Selest fast approaching.
Cecil followed dutifully behind with a childlike pace; two steps to match each one of Zellec’s impractical stride. His boots made a light tearing sound every time he lifted them from the floor of the deck. He always felt the sound was reminiscent of a whetstone grinding at a sword; only the sword was composed of flesh instead of steel. Some had speculated that the deck was equipped with an enhanced gravitational pull to keep everything grounded outside of the craft. The thought had merit though the atmospheric differences in elevation could easily be at cause and there were too many arcane auras to pinpoint any such function aboard these vessels.
It came as no surprise to find Vincent waiting by the fell-ward. He watches his Sergeant closely as the Dragoon impersonally directs his orders. What will you tell them, Vincent?
"I know I probably do not need to tell you, but I'll be debriefing the Zorashti. For now, you are supposed to await me in a room provided for us within the temple, it's not hard to find. Most of the city is off-limits to humans, so don't go wondering if you don't know where you are going."
”I have a decent idea of where I’ll be going. How could I pass up a chance to explore the Sky City of Selest, if only for a short while? You should be happy they’ve brought you here too. Not many can honestly say they’ve spoiled the enchanted earths of Selest with their grubby little human feet,” he smiles.
"And try not to hit the ground hard. I'm sure that is something I also don't need to tell you...”
”Hard to forget when you tell me every goddamn time I step into that thing.”
”See you in a few hours, Mace. When I return, I will no longer be your sergeant anymore. This has been fun, Mace.”
Cecil gives Vincent a firm handshake in reply. ”Fun. A subjective term but I guess it’s the most fitting. I’m more than a bit jealous of your opportunity, Vincent,” he admitted. ”If you play this right you’ll be looking at more gold than you’ll know what to do with. You can buy yourself a new life. Forget about the wars and the senseless bureaucracy of the Corps and just live life. I’ll keep your battle going until I ready to join you.”
Cecil clenches Vincent’s hand tighter and pulls him in close. ”Just be careful, brother.”
At that, he releases the magi and, with a solemn smile, watches him take the fell-ward down to Selest, the council and the ultimate decision on his fate.
You have virtually no idea what the layout of Selest is. Though you have seen it from rune-crafts at their highest ascents, your observations meant nearly nothing to you. Its cyclopean architecture was unnatural to human form and needs. The Eridani had less limits to their biology than humans. Their lives, including the civilians of their society, are so augmented by magic that their dependence on structures such as stairs, railings, wheels, and various home necessities, is much less than a human's.
You peer downward as you drop through the fell-ward; the glow less intense as you drop with a less aggressive descent. The landing pad is a cleared area surrounded by strange buildings; some designed as if the ground they were built upon merely "sprouted" them. The glowing window panes break all the rules of typical human design, yet somehow it was pleasing. Perhaps even their creativity is equally advanced as their technology. Many of the buildings conform to the likeness of their gods, but subtly. Sharp angles create jagged roofs and walls and slick window panes, and many buildings contain protruding surfaces.
Your descent completes. As your ward dissipates, the space between the ornate stonework that filled the area began to glow with "swimming" lights of multiple colors. You felt the small hairs on your body begin to raise along with an unexpected sense of feeling rested. A few seconds ago you were tired from the battle two days prior, and now it's as if you had a full night's rest. This morning you woke with a sore throat, and suddenly it is not nearly as raw as it was a minute ago. You swear you could feel it healing even still.
Eventually the slithering magic formed into draconic runes, which you could barely recognize, but soon enough, the runes began to make sense. Somehow, the organization of the runes and their designs expressed tangible feelings in your head. After panning your surroundings, you gathered a sense of where things are, the runes essentially providing you with directions, and thus, where not to go. The paths that are off limits are conspicuously guarded by large constructs resembling a large Eridani. They have marble-like components inlaid with magic. They also wield a heavy spear, the handle made of a similar material, but the blade shimmers with reflective gold.
As the Caryx docked away from the landing zone some distance away, another rune-craft appeared. Six Erdiani dropped from a fell-ward, immediately moving toward the blocked paths with a slight light-trail behind them. Their pace is rapid.
They bypass the constructs with ease, but you were certain from the runes at the floor that you are not allowed. The paths available to you find their way into your mind as you continue reading the runes.
A.) The Temple of the Outter Beings: This is your primary objective. Going here will progress the story as you are supposed to await a summons from the Valikar (or the Zorashti for all you know).
B.) The Lore Ward (Har!): This is the direct translation. A place that keeps and protects knowledge and information. Human establishments such as libraries and museums are most alike in function. Go here for a smattering of useful information, such as insight into Eridani culture and society, history, religion, and language. Information here is unique and cannot be found elsewhere, though you would still have restricted access to certain things. You can't use the Eridani's Google engine, lets say. But you can use their Internet Explorer ::vomits::.
C.) The Pristine Village: You have no idea what the means or why it is called the Pristine Village. Could it be a residential area for the Eridani? Tis' unknown by you, sir...
D.) The Dragonthrone: This is a government building of sorts, and is the center of all executive, judicial, and legislative operations. Vincent was escorted this way to meet with the Zorashti, but if you go this way, you will more than likely get cleaved in half by an Eridani-construct. :)
Clusters of moist clouds move through the pathways and over the buildings of Selest, illuminating as they disperse the light from the many arcane materials utilized in their cities. This place is heavenly, to say the least and you have a rare opportunity to explore ONE of its available areas. No humans have ever been to Selest as far as you can tell . Choose your path, but do not feel you are losing opportunities. You'll have other chances to explore.
Cecil surveilled the marvels of the great Sky City with appropriate mystified awe. In comparison to the city, all the bits of tech and weapons the Master Race allowed the humans to witness were fallen pebbles chipped from a mountainous marble sculpture. He stood in his ward for what seemed like hours, absorbing the foreign sights and smells; of course, the dizzying speed of the Eridani only magnified this feeling. Somehow their movements added to Selest's appeal. The colorful runes reflected prismatically against the towering constructs while each personal jet stream that chased the Eridani intersected with mechanical precision producing an animated light show as beautiful as Selest itself.
Realizing that he could walk the streets without fear of being trampled by Eridani, Cecil apprehensively begins his walk to The Temple of the Outer Beings to seal his place in the history books - for better or worst - as the first human Dragoon accepted by their mysterious overlords.
Carroc has been traveling through the forest for weeks - not quite wandering, but not exactly sure where he was going. The spirits knew - they were guiding him toward his destiny. He trusted in that, and followed them. Really, it was that simple. When he needed food, they brought him to game, or good forest edibles, at any rate. The grubs from this morning had been exceptionally plump and tasty, and he still had a haunch of the deer he'd shared with the wolfpack a few days back.
When he broke out of the forest, it wasn't what he'd call surprising, exactly, but it was new to him. The village of his birth was in the forest, and the Wild Temple was in the deep forest. Simply put, Carroc had never been out of the forest, though he had heard tales of places where trees were sparse - and people were far more common.
He couldn't help but hope there weren't that many people. Carroc wasn't very good with people, unless he was killing one.
...and that, one simply didn't do. At random.
As much as Drake has enjoyed the last month cooling his jets (and sowing his oats) in the Anthropos capital city, and spending time with his uncle (not to mention the cush relaxation of his uncles manor estate). Frankly he needed it after the close call on that last job...damn undead abominations. But Drake is quite ready to find another worthy job to occupy his time, plus he doesn't like having to rely on his uncle TOO much.
Sky continues his day job as a fisherman. As he rewrapped the nets and wound the ropes he counted the hours since his family's murder. He knew the days of biding his time was coming to an end. Soon would be the time to strike back at the evil tyrants.
You awoke again with the same dream. The one where you are crouching in the fragrant shrubs, feeling the heartbeat of your prey as if you had your hand on its chest. Your quarry is a juvenile female; a girl becoming a woman. Those were your favorite. Like a perfectly ripe fruit, her scent pulled on you like the flower does to the honeybee. You spooked her a bit; made her run in circles in the thick snowy forest. All you had to do was lie still and watch her tire herself out. She's confident what spooked her was long gone, and so she sat down on a log to sob and rest. Little did she know, she was very near to where she started.
People to the south knew nothing of the winding forests of Maor. Only the Oren – the “wildmen” to common folk – know every twig and track as if it were in their own blood. This girl was easy prey. She was tired, weak, and out of her element . You positioned yourself to charge, deciding to rush her from the front, using the obstacle of the log to slow her rather than you. Suddenly, moments before sinking your teeth into her neck and tearing her throat apart, you hear it....
”White!”
You awaken in a cold, stoney room. Gravity was heavy on you, and you soon realized you were suspended in the air by thick chains. Your wrists, ankles, and neck were incredibly sore and bleeding. The chains always felt smaller every time you awakened.
”I think that was a good trial. Your work is amazing, Sir Barrett,” says a woman's voice. It was seductive and strong and all too familiar.
”Thank you, my lady. These tactics should certainly grant us an edge over the Oren. We have been fighting them with the approach that they are human. I say, understand them as beasts and you will know how to beat them. Like trapping a boar, all beasts have their patterns which are available to exploit by the canny hunter.” His voice is weathered and harsh. Something within you recognized it as well.
You mustered the strength to raise your head and look at your captors. A tall woman with blood red hair and golden eyes stood to your left, wearing leather armor with a rune on it. It is in ancient orenic, the language of your people. It represents “The Hunt”. Whatever its meaning, you are unsure, as your kind studies little of the people to the south. The man to your right is taller still, with tar black hair that hung to his back and a face full of thick scruff. Golden eyes shown through his deep sockets, and he has many scars on his face; enough to merit him highly among your people. His leather armor is dark and he wears a cloak that is white as snow and black underneath. The brooch that held it around him is embedded with the rune for “Great Predator”; which in your culture, it is referring to the white saber tooth - a great cat associated with the end of the world.
”You have proven to me that this strategy could work. It certainly has other uses, as well.”
”What do you mean, my lady?”
”Why for our little coup we have been discussing.”
”I see... “
”You sound disappointed.”
”As part of your council, I must suggest you do not fight two wars at once. THREE wars if you include the giants. As you know, I would ride into the Void for house Ferron, but I must speak my mind.”
”We are not at war with them. They will not be provoked by the rightful actions of governments. As long as we leave them alone, we are safe.”
”Do not be so sure. Have you ever faced an Eridani?”
”No. Sadly, I haven't sunk my chakram into the gullet of anything since my ascension.”
”It's a frightening thing to see. It's as if they are in all parts of the battlefield at once. We were northbound with a company of 10 wardens. No one in the order violates the Draconic Creed and no bounty had ever been placed. These were all men of honor. We were approaching the orenic village, maybe a 100 yards out. Then, as if out of the Void itself, a giant shot through the clouds in a glowing beam of light. It moved faster than anything I had ever seen. One of the men was instantly crushed under its landing, and the shock wave shot us all back a few yards. Without hesitation, I repositioned myself and notched my arrow. Luckily I picked my adamantium arrow; a gift I keep in my quiver for luck. All within the time it took me to notch and draw my bow, I witnessed the giant cleave in half my entire company. He'd cut through them like tender blood sausages. One would get cut down, then he'd appear in front of another and slam its fist through his head, turning it to bits in an instant. The only way I took him down is by aiming for the remaining warden. Recka, I think his name was. I knew the giant would appear in front him, so I aimed for Recka and loosed my arrow before it arrived. It cut Recka in half down the middle, but it also had an adamantium arrow poking out the front of its face.”
"I remember. That deed is why you won your promotion. I wonder, what happened to the body?"
"I do not know. The horde must have seen the light and were fast approaching. I left for the castle as fast as I could."
”A terrible loss, losing the giant carcass. However, your bravery is very commendable, Sir Barrett. There is no higher honor for a maoren than to actually kill an overseer. That brooch is well earned and then some. But, how on Nerul did you know where it would be? Even if the timing was easy enough to predict, you still did not know where its head would be or if it may have even seen your actions and repositioned itself to avoid your arrow.”
”I guess it was just luck, my lady.”
”Or perhaps you learned its patterns.”
”Regardless, the point I am making is that the giant did that for no perceivable reason. Unless the Zorashti* disagreed with our mission.”
”And what was your mission then?”
”To capture a wildmen.”
”Clearly the dominion has a skewed sense of nobility.”
”Agreed, my lady. Do you think this one will do what we want it to do?”
”With the way we are doing it, I do not think he has a choice. Lets try one more trial. His swelling has gone down.” She grabs a bucket of water and splashes you, making sure to wet your wrists, ankles, and neck. As she places the bucket to the side, Sir Barrett draws a silver arrow and notches it.
Your golden eyes meet hers. After a deep breath, the woman yells ”Black!”. Everything goes dark for a second. You became hungry, and you swear you felt the heat from their veins.
*Zorashti – The governing body of the Draconic Dominion. I will add a glossary spoiler in the campaign info tab.
Please roll me a Strength check. You are treated as if under the effects of Rage.
You three have been raiding the crypt all morning. It belongs to a very rich and old family known as the Hyperiors. Needless to say, a lot of them died throughout history and the bodies fill this crypt to undead saturation. This was not a job for just three people, but the family that employed you is paying quite well, more than enough to attract even the most spineless soldiers. They have stated to you, however, that part of completing the mission and gaining the reward is keeping everything a secret. You three are not allowed to speak of this mission to anyone and are only allowed to kill the undead unless otherwise stated. Should you break these terms, the reward can be reduced or utterly forfeit.
A few days prior, you three were between jobs, wasting your time at your favorite local tavern called Sidane's. It is a small bar with a loyal customer base and few strangers. You three have been coming here since you were young. Pretty soon, you two joined the Ikarian military and would always meet here when home on leave. The girl that was with you, Drucilla, instead became a privateer, but would remain in touch throughout her service. It also was a great place to find work after you all served your time. Many of the jobs were basic enough; stuff that you three were very overqualified for. But Drucilla had a few more tricks up her sleeve, so she could take advantage of the “unofficial contracts”; ones that Sidane receives from a special messenger. Eventually, you three landed this deal; a contract made by the Hyperior Family for the cleansing of their crypt. The reward is 10,000g if all the objectives are met. One would think the military would handle a threat like this, but the influential family has refused to let the law get involved, stating the concern is not as great as it seems and the military should not be bothered with such trivial matters. More money in your pockets.
And now you are here, hacking your way through the extensive crypt for hours. This family is so old, that the crypt has multiple levels, and you three have been slaughtering undead on every one of them. Zombies, skeletons, and even a ghoul have crossed your paths. There's no telling what ancient evils lie deeper. You all were unsure how far it went down, but the sound of that gold carries you ever forward. Leaning against the wall at the bottom of a set a stairs, you three stare at the door, wondering what to expect on the other side.
”Bloody hell, let’s kick the thing down and get this over with! We’ll think of a ‘plan’ while we’re kickin’ the shit out o’ these twats!”
You three always spent time together. She was the trouble-maker that would often require Drake or Sky to help her out of a situation; such as stealing candy from Rudy’s Sugar Shaq and requiring bail money to get out of jail, or picking fights with people much bigger and stronger than her.
Her temper was blamed on her maoren side, but her charm and looks had everything to do with the anthrosian within her. She is a sporadic gal, often adapting to situations right on the spot rather than “wasting time” with planning. This “commando” attitude gave her many merits as a privateer, but a certain event she speaks little of led her to being discharged and sent back to Neo Ikarus. She survived by doing odd jobs and even did some thieving for some mysterious employers. Once you two returned home, you found your childhood friend much tanner and full of tattoos. She got both your feet wet with the mercenary business, which became quite profitable once you were good at it. From then on, the three of you would take on jobs and split the pay three ways. (class: Desperado [Swashbuckler(flying blade*)/rogue(scroll scoundrel)]
You arrived in Neo Ikarus early this morning by airship. By the time you docked, you immediately began to work. This type of work does not require one to repeatedly perform a task until a result is achieved. It requires no farming or factory work. Your work involves something grander; such as sabotage, infiltration, assassination, and information; the latter being of quite importance. A fate worse than death is the destruction of one’s reputation. It’s effective and hands seldom become bloody. Your employers, the guild of the daemon lord Lys , are extremely secretive, and only rumors and myths surround their existence.
In your travels, you found yourself meeting associates of the guild you would never expect – a barmaid at a tavern, a dancer, a courtesan. All are female, of course, as is the way of your order. It is the way it has been since its start. Lys has always preached secrecy and shadow, believing the dark holds sway over the light; that which is unseen dictates what is seen. In tomes she is regarded as a weaker daemon who was easily slain by the Superlord Ekillith, leaving her history minute at best.
Your archtheurge* asked you to set out for Neo Ikarus, away from your subarid homeland in Ardesh. The objectives before you are simple enough: infiltrate the Arcane Asylum and free an orc slave by the name of Azeban. Why he is kept there and not in the slums is unknown. You were warned that fields are in place that nullify magic in certain parts of the asylum, but they can probably be dismantled.
Since you have docked, you began scouting the terrain looking for entry points and exit points. You even found your way inside the asylum by posing as a visitor. The guards were not as extensive as you had expected, though that did not mean security was any less. This place probably has dragontech in every room. You noted a few scry-orb* and nullifying node* placements during your visit, and also the location of the orc. He is being held on the bottom floor of the asylum. There were a number of ways you could approach this:
A.) Kick the door down with spells blazing: ‘nuff said.
B.) Enter through the sewer: More sneaking involved. Best way to avoid a fight though not knowing exactly where you enter the asylum poses a great risk.
C.) Aerial entry: This way is probably the safest. You would be close to a vent stack which more than likely can lead straight down to the bottom floor as well as other rooms where you can find scry-orbs and nullifiying nodes. However, getting to the top of the asylum can be difficult and you will have to be creative with your options.
D.) Some other creative plan you may have thought of. :)
In the meantime, you find a small tavern near the harbor. It is called “Sidane’s”, and it is not to appealing to the eye, but it has some charm. You had a few hours before dark and it was a good place to gather information.
*Archtheurge - an archtheurge is the head of a Daemon Guild. They are the virtual rulers of Manava, which legally has no nations or borders. They are powerful magi and are incredibly wealthy.
*Scry-orb - a magical device that sends visual and/or audio information to a scryer.
*nullifying node - a magical device that suppresses magical fields, greatly increasing the chances of arcane spell failure.
You just would not give up. Your life as a slave began four years ago. Every day you were placed in the mines to excavate some underground building you knew nothing off. All you were told were which stones to remove and which ones to leave in place. It was not long before the slavers realized what you are. They saw the other drones’ reactions to your presence; as if you brought them back to the savannahs of Khazma. If they had known you were a shaman, they may have killed you outright. Instead, they found another use for you, though you are not sure what that use is yet.
Four years later, after countless experiments and attempts at indoctrination, you still would not give up. Every crack of the whip, every shock spell, and every incision only made you stronger. What could they possibly want with you? Why would they go through so many resources just to keep you alive to poke and prod at? Whatever the reason, you felt your time here was ended. You saw it in your dreams. A strange being from the sky who looked cold as ice yet ever so radiant granted you power, and you tore your captors apart only to raise them as abominations to do your bidding. Enslave the slavers.
Your fate was locked. Tonight, you would leave this place, dead or alive.
You were brought back to your cell all bloodied and scorched after the daily routine. Hideous looking humans toyed with your mind using magicks and tools unfamiliar to you. You saw your memories laid out like a map and watched them rearrange. Fortunately for you, you knew which memories were correct and which were not. However, some things appeared that were not there before. You tried crossing into them, though their unnatural presence made it hard for you to immerse yourself. A voice interrupted your trance, and you returned back the world.
In khorgesh, ”We know you, orc. You bear the scars. I… we do not know why, but those scars tell us a story. We cannot remember our home. But… when we see you, we see orange sunsets, vast mountains, and a great river that cuts the land in half. We see others like us, not in chains, but in armor and jewelry. Tell us why…. “
It is a male orc. He is locked up in the cell across from you. The room is constructed with thick stone and strange glowing orbs. A force-field is applied to your cell in addition to the mechanical lock. Escaping would be difficult. Where is the woman from the sky?
"If that's really what you want to do. You go first and I'll try to provide cover from the rear." Sky takes a moment to ready his weapons and make sure he's prepared to move forward.
"Hah! That's your favorite place to cover, isn't it?" says Dru coyly as she draws two throwing knives from her thigh straps.
Feeling weak, Carroc withdraws from his situation and seeks focus -first controlling the breathing, and then the mind. How long has it been? When did I last eat? How did they...whoever they are...catch me? Must remember... Predators?
Carroc fights the urge to snarl, to growl like a feral wolf. Well, if he feels weak, so be it.
Carroc allows his body to go limp, resting as much as he can, chained.
Drake gives Sky a wry smirk.
So basically I go get up close and personal with the bad guys, while you hide in the back...I see we are going with the usual plan again.
Obviously just razzing his old friend, he pats him on the shoulder before drawing his greatsword, adopting a unique fighting stance, and proceeding forward.
Azeban's fingers moved over the new scars, the new burns, the areas where skin had been flayed and new skin had not yet grown to replace it. He relearned his body, the areas that were strong, the areas that were weak. It would be important, he knew, if he was to escape.
As the Orc spoke to him, Azeban stared back in silence for what seemed like too long. He absorbed the Orc's features, the look in his eye, his stance. It was an Orc who would be broken before long, who may have been already, and just hadn't realised it yet.
"You remember our language but not our history." The necromancer says sadly. "Has it been so long?" he mutters to himself. He remembers every day of his captivity, but not every day of those before. He has held on for a long time, but still some memories begin to fade. Inventions take their place - some his, some not. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Listen to me, brother." Azeban says forcefully. "We are Orcs, protectors of the land, warriors of the South. There is nothing in the world stronger than our will. The land you remember was our home, and it waits for our return."
"I leave tonight to reclaim it. Join me, and we will punish those who sought to control us, we will free our brethren, and we will form a new tribe and march free, as we were once before. "
He chuckles at Drake's comment, "Alright, I'm loaded and locked...let's do this."
Oh and Dru sweetheart, make sure you keep one of those lovely eyes out for traps.
The insights provided by the mysterious floating island help guide you to the Temple of the Outer Beings.
Dragontech is infused in most every structure; all serving unknown functions. The large door that leads inside the temple has many engravings, and it appears to look different than the other structures on the island, as if from another time. A familiar panel is embedded in the center of the door. You activate it like you would any other dragontech door.
The way opens up to a large room. It is dome shaped and appears to be made of some extremely hard stone; such as marble or obsidian. Engravings in the walls surround the entire room and draconic runes title certain parts of the stone mural. Blue-green colored glass provides a mellow lighting from the ceiling.
The most impressive structures are the fifteen statues of the giants' dragon-gods. Fourteen of them surround the fifteenth in a large circle. They are sinister looking creatures. Their claws are positioned as if something once occupied the space. The 14 statues appear to be about the size of the Eridani, but the one in the center is much larger.
Every footstep echoed. A looming sense of nervousness shot through you, but your success here would be essential for the liberation of mankind. The hairs on your neck raise slightly, and an instinctual sense that a spell had been cast enters your mind. Walking forward toward the center statue, you see one of the giants on the other side. He stands in a pool that surrounds the statue, lathering himself in the holy oils as part of their ritual. Completely naked, the giant turns toward you. No genitalia is apparent.
”The stone is in your possession. Bring it to me.” His common was much better than any giant you have ever heard attempt to speak it. Still, the grinding sound of their sonic voices felt unnatural to hear.
Without questioning, you brought the stone to the giant. He opened the lockbox with an unknown spell. You swear you saw a hint of a joyful expression on its face once it gazed its eyes upon the Oma Stone.
”This is the stone the defect took. It will guide us closer to our gods. Your accomplishment begs a reward. What is it you desire?” His language is not flashy nor is it eloquent. It is direct and to the point. You answered his question in kind, sensing there would be no consequence for asking such a bold gift.
”I want to be deoxul. To fly with your kind and achieve the same might as you.”
There is a moment of silence. His answer is quick and harsh.
”This cannot be.” The giant steps out of the pool and walks away from you a few meters. ”You must see for yourself….”
The giant faces you and casts a spell. Immediately your world changed. Auras appeared all around you. You had an odd sense that you knew exactly what was going to happen a few seconds into the future; every gesture the giant made, the number of ripples left in the pool before it became still again. You even felt the wind from a once hidden flying insect that made its way into the temple. You tasted the air and felt you could separate its components if you knew what they were. Then, you began to breathe heavily. An overwhelming sense of anxiety fills your head and a headache emerges, the worst of its kind. The magic all around you surged and suppressed, and you swear you felt the island “respire”. After a few moments of torture, the pain stopped, and your senses returned to normal.
”Human. That is what you are. Your biology: weak. You are only able to see what your body allows. To do otherwise will denature you. A noble position; the deoxul. None are equally as powerful. This request: impossible.” He walks closer to you. ”There are other tasks essential to our cause that you may help with. You cannot be Deoxul, but you can be Shyka. Human shykas have granted the dominion many advantages and are rewarded greatly. If it is power that you seek, then this promotion will be helpful in gaining it.”
You have never heard of this word before. ”I do not understand the nature of this position. Is it a special unit?”
”No. Shykas are solitary. Their unit is composed of whoever they choose to assign to it. They are field officers; humans we have observed possessing higher critical thinking skills and self-awareness. When taken out of a pack, the Shyka still performs excellently without direction. The Shyka is required to keep its profession hidden from everyone, even superiors, which is why you have never heard this word before. They report directly to the Zorashti, and are considered discharged on record. You will carry out orders without a uniform, and will be granted many executive privileges. Shykas receive no glory within the Dominion; their contribution dwarfs any glory a soldier would receive.”
It was as close as you were going to get to dragoon. Reporting directly to the Zorashti has its value, but not being able to discuss matters with anyone within the fleet could make matters difficult.
You accept the position.
”Then it is done. Hence forth, you are no longer a magus marine. Your reward on record for returning the stone is an early completion of service with a gold bonus to your salary. As a civilian you must be able to successfully carry out orders without revealing your profession. This means the Zorashti cannot help you should you break any laws. The fleet will treat you as a civilian. You have the executive privilege to terminate enlisted individuals should you need to and will not be charged by the Zorashti. Local laws can still hold you accountable. I grant you shelter in the Pristine Village. No one but you is allowed to enter your home. You will sleep there tonight. Tomorrow, you will meet with all Zorashti.”
As soon as he finished talking, he casts a spell and vanishes from the temple. There is no ceremony, no pat on the head or scratch behind the ears. The reward certainly is great, but it has its drawbacks. You can potentially be a target of the fleet, not to mention hunted by the Valikar should you cause too much of a ruckus.
Despite your efforts you are unable to break the chains. You thirst for their flesh, but the intense frenzy causes you to pass out almost immediately. Your dream this time was different. Both moons are at full and the night is clear. You lay on a bluff overlooking a lake. Your instincts told you it was summer. A large fire blazes near the shore and cheers and howling fill the air. It is the age of fire, and your people are celebrating.
You are not sure how much time has passed, but since that day your captors have "worked" with you much more. They began conditioning you less and started to teach you things. You learned to read and write in common and were also taught basic problem solving skills. They even taught you etiquette and some cultural norms of the world outside of your tribe. This mixed form of treatment was torture. Part of you wanted to tear them apart, and another part of you worshiped them. This duality rips your mind in two.
Presently, you are riding in a horse drawn carriage with the scarlet haired woman, Lady Moira Ferron, and the dark haired man, Sir Barrett Kane. They have you dressed up in clothing with very unfamiliar textures and smells.
"Do you know where we are going, Lupus?" She calls you by your pet name.
"Hell, I'll smell the trap before I see it, though we haven't seen one yet. Must not be protecting much down here. Alright gents. Time to earn our pay."
She gives the door a hefty kick, only to have it push her back.
"Oh bless the Sages! Just a moment, boys."
She unrolls her tools and begins working with the lock.
"Alright. Now where were we..."
She backs up again and gives the door another strong kick.
DC 15
"Not a word from either of you!"
DC 15
Your nimble friend finally kicked the door open. She really did not need to. But she had a thing for dramatic entrances. Unfortunately, you all were met with less drama. You heard no shuffling feet or moaning from the dead and the room lacked the adequate lighting the other ones had, but torch sconces on the walls nearest to you could be lit.
Dru pulls out her flint and lights one of the torches . You can tell the walls get taller as you move closer into the room, and you can see depressions where bodies would lay. Along the floor, stone coffin are placed in roads, though you can only see four within your field of vision.
All three of you heard a ping and a short series of high pitched sounds off in the dark distance.
"Well, looks like no danger, yet." He starts looking around at the coffins, keeping his gun ready, just in case.
Carroc takes a deep breath, and examines each smell. He has no memory of the place...unless he was told...No.
Damnit Dru, I told you to be careful! Thats it, your door kicking privileges have been revoked missy. *wink*
Drake scans the room, looking for any signs of movement or anything notable.
*casts Detect Psionics* (which also detects for magic)
The orc's eye lit up. "But, this would be impossible. There is no breaking out of this place. Another one; short, dark skin. A human from the sands. He tried and he almost succeeded. But then... the warden caught him. His fate; unknown." He thought about your words for a few moments.
"I have grown too weak. Before this, I was a miner. The foreman; a khazahar graced with promotion for his strength and obedience, lashed me relentlessly for reasons I did not understand. For so long I had forgotten my strength, but each strike fueled my anger and I unleashed my strength in the form of fire, burning the foremen to his death. They locked me here, and I no longer feel the fire inside..."
His words struck your curiosity, so you attempt to sense the magic around, only to find your energy completely sapped.
"They take away our strength here..."
A man's voice interrupts the orc. "Keep talkin' like that, drone, and you're sure to rot here. Your kind would have you flayed for such a display of weakness." The voice is coming from a cell to your right. You cannot see who is speaking.
"My... kind? I am khazahar. I know only what I know and that is the mines."
"Yes. A repetitive lifestyle tends to narrow your vision. You know your pick and your shovel and that's all. What about your family?"
"My family? My brothers and sisters in the mine."
"Well, you weren't born out of the ore. You came from orc parents, drone."
"I... I don't remember...."
"Uuggggh! Useless! Okay, big-talker . Clearly you can't save everybody. But if you got a plan to bust out of this fortress then I'm in; dead or alive."
The orc across from you sits down on his slab and solemnly looks to floor as if contemplating something. It is disgusting to see one of your kind so weak and pitiful. He was probably once a proud individual, but has been denatured by the same processes you have undergone and resisted. The man was right. He would be flayed for such a pathetic display .
"So what's your name, big-talker? What's your story?"
While you wait for your "informer" to return, you kill some time at Sidane's tavern by the docks. It is a humble place and the customers are variable. Some are rough looking sailors, others are locals from deeper in the city wanting to escape the claustrophobia. This place is old and is deeply rooted at the harbor of Neo Ikarus.
It took a while for the bartender to notice you. Two men he was chatting with gave you winks and toothless grins as they chuckled to one another. The bartender laughed them off, having dealt with many unrespectable individuals in the past.
"Sorry fer the wait, miss. Ya' gettin' a drink?"
"Forgive the perverts at the end. For being by the docks, we don't see many with an exotic nature such as yerself. Ya'd think it be otherwise. Iffen' ya want exotic company, best head to the Land Drake. They may be bigger, but no other bar on the harbor has a fresher ale. Keeps it underground I do. Preserves the freshness." The bartender stops himself. "So uuuuhh, where ya from? Got business in the city, do ya?"
"I said not a peep, Steelwind, or I'll swift you one so hard you'll..." The same ping and high pitched sounds happen again.
"Eh it's probably just a rotting, walking nobleman from 200 years ago coming to devour our brains and play dress up with our entrails. We got time to search the place before it gets here."
You three finish lighting the room. It's a large room and it leads to another set of stairs at the other end, though they are larger. All is visible save for the end of the set of stairs at the bottom.
Drake focuses and allows himself to perceive the unperceivable.
You do find a faint magic aura near the middle of the stairs and also in one of the coffins lining the floor.
Sky sifts through some of the stuff that was buried with the Hyperior ancestry. The contract stated that no possessions can be taken from the family crypt. To do so would forfeit the contract.
You find a number of bodies in the wall slots and also in the coffins laid in a row on the floor. There are thirty bodies down here and none of them moving. The 10 coffins on the floor have an assortment of jewels and jewelry, and one especially decorated individual has the enchanted ring Drake detected before.