|
Venture-Captain Holgarin Smine puffs at his pipe as he looks pensively at each Seeker in turn from his comfortable seat in the room above his forge. "Unexpected message. From a Technic League Captain. She's requested our help. Little information. Turmoil in Starfall of late. Seems legitimate though." He nudges a bag with his foot, and a couple of skymetal ingots fall from it. "Sent this along. "For the Society." Payoff? Peace offering? I don't know. You're the most qualified I have on hand." He sighs, clearly troubled, sets his pipe aside to pour a cup of wine before offering it out. "Questions?"
|
A plain-faced, somewhat gawky woman who is nevertheless wearing smart livery in gold-trimmed scarlet enters the room. "The Marquesa de Renard of Taldor, sir," she mutters, as if finding having to say this somewhat embarrassing. She quickly ducks out of the way, letting 'the Marquesa' enter.
The 'Marquesa' is a woman who cuts a rather dashing figure; she's tall and whippet-lean, and moves with a grace that suits her expensive clothing. A pair of glossy black boots lead into fawn-skin trousers delicately embroidered with climbing roses, no doubt by dozens of urchins in Vudra; an immaculate white 'poet's' blouse, threaded through with silver, is surcoated by a scarlet-and-gold tabard, with the gold trim stylized as roses along the hem. The woman also wears gold-lined, scarlet cloak, on the back of which is a symbol of the Taldan crown and two gold roses. Are we sensing a theme?
A magnificently jeweled rapier hangs at the woman's hip, and she rests her bare right hand easily on the pommel, a ring that might be worth a king's ransom glinting from that hand.
The Marquesa is fair-skinned, with shrewd green eyes and straight black hair cut sharply at chin-length. Despite the ostentatious wealth of her possessions, there's a certain childish glee in her expression. She pauses to upbraid her squire before proceeding further into the room.
"Nora! How many times must I tell you: The Marquesa de Renard, Champion of Taldor, Defender of the Crown, Advisor and Friend to King Stavian the Third, Ambassador to Akiton, the Golden Rose of the Marquessate of Elbistan!"
"Yes, ma'am," the squire says with a sigh.
Miranda turns her bright smile on Smine. "Of course, to Venture Captains and fellow Pathfinders, it's just Miranda.
"I cannot tell you how excited I am to hear there's field work calling me again! It's dreadfully dull in Oppara you know, especially since nobody will duel me any more among the court. Yes, please, I'll take all the wine you have.
"So... this mission-- the Technic League? Asking for our help? That's unusual indeed. They must be desperate. Or perhaps it's a trap," Miranda says eagerly as she pours herself a generous glass of wine.
"And who else is here! Oh, Desna's diamonds, I'm so excited to get to go DO things again with you all!"
|
|
A tall well built half orc sits in one corner of the room smoking a pipe. Silver fur covers his face and arms. Black and gold silken robes coil around his limbs and at his feet sprawls a large white furred cat which is paying no attention to anyone.
The league wants our help, that seems unlikely... he purrs. It smells like a trap but I suppose I can take time away from my travels to help look into this for you Holgarin. Who is this captain and what do you know of them?
|
|
A small gnomish woman with an air of authority unbecoming of her size enters the room, followed directly behind by a large dinosaur, obviously her companion. The woman wears extravagant robes and is obviously a master of the arcane arts. Her belt is laden with magical wands, scrolls, rods, masks and staves of all shapes and sizes, though she seems to carry them effortlessly. Her left arm is covered almost in its entirety with a tattoo of a stylized dinosaur, matching the general shape of her companion.
Her dinosaur companion wears well-made leather barding, as well as an obviously-expensive jeweled necklace. His eyes show a hint of intelligence far beyond the standard beast.
With the introduction of Marquesa de Renard, Nalshene bows to her regally. "It is nice to meet you, my lady Miranda. I am Nalshene, Venture-Captain of my own traveling lodge. Many impressive titles you carry. I have a few myself, though I prefer not to rattle them off... they're much for the mouth, little for the intellect, I find. "
She also nods to Urko politely, though she doesn't wish to bother him with more introductions if he seems content to smoke his pipe.
After listening to Venture-Captain Smine's curt briefing, Nalshene scowls a bit at the lack of deference to fellow Venture-Captains, but quickly forces herself to smile brightly. "Seems a worthy cause, though I've not dealt much with the Technic League myself. What can you tell us about this Captain?"
The large cat raises its head lazily to regard the dinosaur and promptly dismisses it with a snort and a shake of the head. She goes back to staring into the fire.
|
|
"Oh, the Spire you say? I've heard there are some terrible things lurking in the lower levels, to be sure. It would be wonderful to hear about them, perhaps on our journey to our rendezvous with this Captain? I have stories of my own, of course, if you're interested." Nalshene winks at Urko playfully.
|
|
Urko smiles, Of course, of course, it is not found anywhere on Golarion but is in fact on another planet, far from our own solar system. We travelled there in search of a man called Rasputin and it held many strange wonders. The land was frozen but the people possessed technology far beyond any of the weapons I saw in Alkenstar when I visited. Firearms which could fire great distances and with extreme rapidity, bizarre machines that would trample over anyone foolish enough to stay on the ground and Rasputin himself, a dangerously powerful Oracle sworn to dark powers. It all feels like a very long time ago now.....
His voice trails off and his jaw tightens as he relives those events...vampires, he mutters, bloody vampires...
At the mention of Russia Artemis raises her head and lets out a low, soft, growl. She well recalls being shot to pieces by the troops of the Russian army.
Narshala stands obediently behind Nalshene.
|
|
Smine puts the cup down on the table for anyone who wishes to partakes and pours himself another frowning only slightly at the amount left by Miranda. "Signed her letter "Zernebeth". Very little information to confirm that that's the writer. But. She tells us where to meet her. Palace of Fallen Stars. Very specific. Also provides papers, half a dozen carrier's badges, maps... Heard of a woman called Zernebeth working for the Technics before. Never had any problems with her specifically before." He rubs his face thoughtfully. "Maybe it's a trap. I don't know. But I'm not risking the lives of junior Pathfinders to test it out. I need the best. And the best is you."
|
|
Miranda offers a light little laugh at the implication she might have forgotten how to use her blade, and keeps her bright society smile in place on the comments regarding her titles. "As I said, my fellow Pathfinders can simply call me Miranda!"
Oblivious to Smine's frown for the little wine she left, Miranda calls for her squire, Nora. "Nora! Come in here! Don't lurk in the hall. You want to join the Society, you should learn what a briefing sounds like! Goodness, perhaps I should send you along, you'd get real field training..."
"But you already train me, milady."
"Yes, yes, and a fine hand with a blade you've become! But do listen now. Zernebeth. I can't say as I've heard of her. Clearly she doesn't move in the right circles."
|
A tall somber looking half-elf enters the place and observes the activities.
"By the Keeper of the First Vault. This indeed sounds odd. Strange enough to pull me out of retirement. What else is known of this Captain's history? A trap maybe. But what financial gain? A business proposal or ransom or rescue or ... well, we shall se."
He bows as if forgetting something
" VC Hugo Victor, Protector of Antiquities of Abadar, at your service. Some of you I know by name or title only. Others...well we go back a bit."
|
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Next to enter the room is a stooped and disheveled woman, with hair like a bird's nest and skin like sandpaper. Her clothes are stained and torn, and look as though they were not particularly flattering even when they were new and clean. Which by the looks of it was a long time ago. Green goop drips from her ears and a number of long knitting needles appear to be sticking out of her head. The very air in the room grows sour from the caked layers of dirt and sweat and blood that she has clearly never washed off over the course of her long elven life.
She stops, squints, and peers about the room, with eyes that reveal cunning intelligence, and perhaps not a small touch of madness. Ahh, Pathfinders is it? Of course it is, it always is, never a quiet restful moment for poor Agata, nooo, not her, poor old Agata, just wants to take a little nap here or there, but nooo, not her, no one will just let her be.
Her speech trails off for a moment and it's possible that she is dozing, but she soons begins to ramble, perhaps talking in her sleep, perhaps merely reminiscing: Agata doesn’t remember how long she lived under the great bridge in Magnimar, but it seems to have been quite a while, even as elves such as her reckon time. But she vividly remembers the moment when the other denizens of the Shadow underbridge finally decided that her hygienic “quirks” were beneath even their rather relaxed standards and drove her off, thus beginning her career as a reluctant adventurer. Eventually, she found that she could camp out on the veranda of most Pathfinder lodges without being disturbed, although it’s likely that the Pathfinder door wardens simply assumed that she was just another eccentric agent. Be that as it may, although she doesn’t exactly understand what the society is, or that she is viewed as a ranking agent by many, she does appreciate the wayfinder that somehow found its way into her possession, mainly because the stone that she put in it is “oooh pretty” and “sooo shiny…”
She rouses herself from her reverie and peers around the room once more. Aye, yer Pathfinders alright, I can tell by just lookin' at ya, there's a smell to ya don't ya know. Well, no doubt you'll be needing old Agata's help again, that's always the way of it, and that's fine, just fine. Just don't be expecting me to be one of yer fancy elves - I ain't no Elrond Hubbard, nor that Legoland neither - hmmph! She scowls at the thought of pulling a bowstring.
But where's me manners gone to?!? New friends we are, surely that's an occasion as fine as any for a bit o' the fine stuff. Mawd! Sweet Mawd! By Desna's Drooling Dentures, I'll toss her in my next cauldron if she's snuck off again. It ain't easy to find good help these days, and I ain't done it, that's for sure. Amidst this screeching, a beautiful face peeks shyly out of the tangled mass of Agata's hair, and a tiny winged figure in a maid's uniform soon emerges and quickly hurries to do her mistress' bidding. Snuff, plenty o' snuff for me and for me new friends, and be quick about it!
|
|
"That smell... You mean... Soap?" asks Holgarin Smine before shrugging, deciding that perhaps he doesn't want an answer after all.
Urko's pages quickly populate with whatever scrawlings draw trait to the Technic League and the leadership ranks of the organization. It seems that Zernebeth is indeed a Technic League captain; a spellcaster from Irrisen who is said to be a Jadwiga whose interest in numerian magics prompted her exile from the land of the winter witches. There is little that distinguishes her from any other Technic League captain: many sightings, little actual information, unsubstantiated whispers of her cruelty. She is said to have been seen with a rogue alchemist, a fugitive from the Technic League named Alaeron. The nature of their relation is unknown.
"Well. If there's anything else I can do for you, I'll be in the forge, I have to bribe some goodwill into Ullorth Ungin with another blade of mine."
|
|
As the elderly crone enters the chamber Urko raises one eyebrow,, Hmm, thank the gods for life bubble...
Agata, I seem to know that name...have you perhaps spent time in the Spire?
Aye, I trod that misbegotten place, from the top to the very bottom, bottomless though it seemed. I had no choice - my poor bunny, sweet sweet Sweet Pea - here Agata breaks off as her face contorts in grief, lost in sad remembrance... yes, my Sweet Pea wouldna stop following a group of cursed adventurers - I think one of them kept turnips in his haversack to lure her with, blasted be his memory! To the very bottom of the Spire I went, hoping agin hope to bring her home, but she just kept hopping and hopping on, always a hop ahead.
It is perhaps worth noting that a rather different tale is told in the Pathfinder Lodges of the River Kingdoms. It seems that at least one group of Pathfinders delved into the Spire mainly in a fruitless attempt to get away from Agata's horrendous odor, only to find that, as deep as they delved, somehow she was always still there a step or two behind them.
|
|
"If you can bring half, I will carry the rest of you", a previously silent half-orc growls as the discussion moves toward transportation.
The late speaker is a monstrous hulk of bulging sinew and blue-gray skin. The musclebound orc is unclothed save a set of tight doeskin leggings and a thin shawl, etched with glowing runes, which is draped across his impossibly broad shoulders and attached to a short cape. Stripped to the waist, the exposed flesh of his thickly muscled upper body is a litany of scars and elaborate tribal tattoos. A massive crudely forged two-handed blade of dark skymetal is strapped across his back.
|
|
After teleporting ahead with Venture-Captain Hugo, Marduk returns moments later to grab the remaining pathfinder, making an unintentional yet mercifully quick stop by Chessed.
Starfall. The troubled capital of Numeria. Seldom few members of the Society have visited this isolated, backwater city. As you approach the city gates, a mix of Kellid barbarians and gearsmen converge on you, but upon presentation of your papers and the badges you possess, they let you pass within the city, but not without an amused grunt from a few of the Kellid warriors. The city is dirty, dirtier than any city you've ever been in down south. Sewers must be forbidden or an unknown piece of lore, for waste of all sorts lies in the streets, picked up by gangs of men and women who load them onto carts. The air is thick with soot and the smell is putrid at best.
Ascending towards the palace of Fallen Stars, you are met halfway through by an "honor guard" of Kellid warriors from the palace. "We've heard of your arrival. We'll be taking you to see Zernebeth the ice-magos. Make sure you don't get lost. Or end up falling on any of the rogue Technics or their metal retinues" states the senior-looking one, an older man with a patchwork of scars across the left side of his face and a metal and glass eye that whirs as he looks upon you all.
The rest of the trek proceeds in silence. As you approach the palace, you see what looks to be a heavily fortified compound, one that has suffered a devastating attack at that. Charred remains still litter the ground, and men and machines are hard at work repairing the collapsed structures. The banner of the Technic League flies, but well below another flag bearing a primal, war-like crest.
The palace itself is a hive of activity. Men and women march about, armed and preparing themselves frantically for something. Very few bear the cog symbol of the Technic League. Of note, you do see a few men and women in robes trundling through, the symbol of a bone-made pickaxe dangling from their necks.
Finally you are brought about to the door of a suite as a large, impressively muscled man steps out, followed by a well-build Kellid woman. Both of them look at you as their retinue of five guards step out as well, but the reactions they display could not be more different. The male sneers at you all, with perhaps a double take on Marduk's build and without a word he steps off, the swagger of his step unable to conceal the haste with which he too moves onto the next task. The woman nods at you gravely before moving on behind the big man but at a more sedate pace, motioning to one of her guards to speak with her.
Stepping up to the door, as if to shut it is a lone woman, her skin tinged blue who stops as she sees you and your entourage. "Your visitors have arrived Captain." states the Kellid leader in a carefully neutral tone before turning around and departing, his men in tow. Confused, she asks: "I'm terribly sorry, but are you the Pathfinders I sent for?"
|
|
Shortly before the teleportation takes place, Miranda briefly rushes into another room in the weaponworks.
"My mistress is... changing," Nora says with a sigh to the others. Awkwardly she adds on, "The nobility have... their... quirks."
Miranda A woman returns!!! with a silken handkerchief made of gold tied around her face, and a big plumed hat upon her head. But otherwise wearing the same clothes as Miranda Renard. As disguises go, it's not the most sophisticated~.
"Nora," she hisses.
Nora sighs again. "May I present the champion of the downtrodden, that mysterious masked avenger.... Adnarim."
"Yes, here I am! Miranda Renard was called away upon business, you see, and-- holy and foul gods alike what is that SMELL."
Fortunately, the other Pathfinders are spared further attempts from Miranda to explain her 'disguise' thanks to her trying not to gag or retch due to Agata's personal stench. Miranda remains silent all through the rest of the prep, though she does stare at the massive half-orc who joins them.
****
One short teleportation later...
Miranda has been trying to maneuver to be on the far side of the group from Agata ever since the teleportation into Starfall, but she stops at seeing the primal war-flag, and hisses quietly: "That's the personal crest of Kevoth Kul. Numeria's... 'king,' if the title can apply to such a barbaric ruler. A tribal warrior who somehow forged a rule over this strange land and all its technology--"
She stops short when the muscled warrior strides forth from the palace. Briefly, she curtseys and dips her head, but waits until the man is well past earshot before adding on: ".....and, that was him. Ahem."
When they reach the blue-hued woman, Miranda's spirits are up again. She bows, a hand over her heart. "We are indeed the Pathfinders! Captain Zernebeth, is it? I am Mi- called Adnarim, a champion of the oppressed, and-- dammit, I left Nora back at the lodge. Well, anyway, it's us. How do you do. My companions are..."
Miranda pauses as she realizes she didn't catch the names of the foul-smelling old crone or the enormous half-orc; she'd been too busy trying not to vomit. "...capable of introducing themselves. But I assure you, we are here in response to your summons. Pray tell, why are there so many Zyphus followers here?"
|
|
The hulking orc visibly sneers at the mention of being a Pathfinder but remains silent until the introductions circle around to himself.
"Marduk", he adds in a bass growl almost more animal than humanoid. "We are among the strongest and most experienced the Society calls their members. There's little we cannot overcome together."
|
|
Arriving in this shoddy, run down little city filled with trash Urko once more thanks the Gods for life bubble.
My name is Urko, and yes we are the Pathfinders you "sent for" although none of us are used to being summoned. We understand you have some sort of problem which requires the most capable to resolve. Your city seems to have taken some damage and I cannot help but notice that you have servants of that fool Zyphus running around. Why?
|
|
The woman's initial look of relief turns into a rather more businesslike demeanor at Urko's words. "My words weren't meant to demean. This is a rather... Complicated situation that is becoming increasingly urgent." She seems to hesitate for a few moments, but finally decides to step back and invite you in.
Stepping into the room a desk, several workbenches and a small cot stand on one side of a open divider curtain, which the Technic League Captain marches towards to close. Before she does, you can see four beds, each occupied by a single figure. Besides each of them, a set of Numerian machines, each beeping steadily.
She closes the curtain and turn to you. "Please, pay no attention to that. I'd offer you a seat but I'm afraid I don't have enough. I wouldn't pay any attention to the Zyphites. There kind is attracted by mishaps, bad luck and tragic senseless death, all of which are rife in Starfall. Especially before the purge." She pauses, trying to figure out where to start. "There is a creature in Silver Mount. Something that predates us all. And it wishes us nothing but ill-will. And I need you to go into the mount and destroy it." She pauses, taking each of you in, her nose twitching at the stench emanating from Agata. "That was the short version. If you care for the long version, please stay. Otherwise do not drift too far away. Kevoth-Kul may be free of the chemicals he once imbibed the Palace is still a dangerous place."
She pauses again, giving time for people to step out.
"The adventurers you might have seen behind me have allowed me the opportunity to return the League to what it once was: a group of capable people interested in the collection and safeguard of technology from the stars from those who would wield it improperly or for their own benefit. It wasn't their primary intent to help me, but they did without asking for recompense, save to ask for access to Silver Mount. They said that within the mountain was a creature they called Unity, which they described as an Artificial Intelligence of old. I wasn't sure about how intoxicated they were, so I agreed. They managed to cure Kevoth-Kul from his drug habit, defeated the Technic League agents who were spying on the Black Sovereign including Tekma-Kul, the Sovereign's traitorous cousin. And then they attacked the League's compound." She chuckles. "I didn't believe a frontal assault could have worked. But it did, the Sovereign and his blood-brothers dealing with those who would have rushed to the aid of Commander Ozmyn Zaidow. He died, along with most of those in the compound. They freed the slaves, Gryne Rasik's test subjects. And then they went into Silver Mount. The compound fell two weeks ago. They entered Silver Mount shortly thereafter. A day later, one agent we thought lost comes down from the mount, saying she's seen pass through after helping her escape and tells me about what she's seen within. Gearsmen activating and performing strange tasks. Screens activating with the face of an otherworldy creature looking down upon her. Mocking her. I left for the Mount and I found them within, surrounded by carnage, beaten to within an inch of their lives. Missing part of their brains."
She sighs. "As I left, my agents and I were taunted by that same image. Bald. Sexless. Grey-slate skin. Taunting us. Telling us that soon, all would bow before Unity. That the gods of old were nothing as compared to it's power."
She sweeps the room with her outstretched metal arm. "And so here I am. Banished from my quarters in the compound, since Kevoth-Kul does not trust me. Four lives directly depending on me. And the world possibly in the balance from something that came from the Stars beyond. Thus, in a move that is certainly going to drive another wedge between myself and the senior League agents throughout the land, I call upon the only organisation I can trust not to jeopardize things further, with enough moral fiber to care beyond what I could possibly pay had I twice the coin I currently have. The Pathfinder Society. But again" she comments acerbically "My apologies if you feel slighted by the words I used" she finishes as another woman, this one wearing the pendant of the League steps through the door and immediately holds her tongue, standing at attention as she waits for Zernebeth to motion to her.
|
|
Hugo listens to the woman's story but is finding gaps hard to reconcile. The sight in the other room does not settle his mind
"Indeed. This is terrible business and you made the correct call in bringing us here."
"This obviously weighs heavily on your mind. We have a few details we will need. Anything else you know or suspect of this Unity, its motives or size and type of forces it controls would be helpful in finding a starting point for our aid in this contract."
Hugo considers a few puzzling details offered.
These four adventurers. Did they say what their interest was in the Unity? And they only wanted access? Any contract drawn on the subject? And did this not trouble you? Would you normally seek motives or a detailed business plan before granting such requests? What policies and procedures are standard?
|
|
Miranda looks at the insensate 'adventurers', but she's no healer. She cocks her head at the story, a thoughtful frown on her face.
"So you simply went in on your own and retrieved the four, by yourself, and weren't harassed by whatever took them to this state? One trip, or four-- that's a lot of bodies to haul at one time, captain."
|
|
Urko looks down on the four unconscious adventurers. Have you tried to communicate with them or to revive them? Can you guess at what has happened to them? You have them hooked up to these machines, have you tried to revive them with magic?
He places one hand on the forehead of one of the unfortunates. I posses the power to heal some of the most serious of wounds and if need be tomorrow I can restore even the most debilitating conditions. Would you object to me trying to revive one of these unfortunates so we might learn more of what happened?
|
|
"The information I have is that Unity is an Artificial Intelligence from the stars, which is very much like a spirit that inhabits certain pieces of advanced technology. I do not know if it can bleed per se. What I do know is what documents and tech I was able to quickly retrieve from Ozmyn Zaidow's chambers in the compound before I was formally barred access to the entire League compound. It thinks itself a god, a self-styled Iron God. Apparently it has managed to acquire some god-like attributes; able to perform miracles, provide it's faithful with spells,... But only within the confines of Silver Mount" she states, a finger raised as if to further stress the importance of her statement. "For years it has tried to expand the realm of it's divine influence. Ozmyn was the latest attempt, and the most successful one perhaps. You see, Ozmyn Zaidow had gone into Silver Mount and been "captured" by Unity back in 4711. Reading between the lines, I believe he sold his soul the the AI in return for powers and tech beyond comprehension. This allowed him to take over the Technic League and increase it's influence far beyond what we had ever believed possible. However, he was also making sure noone interfered with Unity's plans: to dominate everyone on Golarion. It is apparently trying to use some of the intact facilities within the ship to send a flying construct into the air, to fly above the planet and bewitch us through it's divine will, turning us all into it's loyal, unthinking subjects. This construct will contain Unity's computer core and an artifact of great power, power enough to allow it to achieve it's goal: the Divinity Drive."
She pauses, to gather her thoughts as she slowly walks towards the privacy curtain. "The computer core is like... A lich's phylactery; except that you could actually go inside and purge the lich's essence from within without destroying the core. The Divinity Drive is said to be the main power source for what is now Silver Mount, allowing it to travel through the void of space. What little Ozmyn wrote about it all seems to indicate that it contains impossible amounts of power within."
She pulls the curtains apart and you can see them: a hobgoblin of impossible size, a human male, what looks to be one of the many androids that make their lives in Numeria and a tiefling. All lying on their beds, their heads heavily bandaged, along with many other wounds. "It seems as if these adventurers were trying to stop Unity by striking at the things that would allow it to make it's plan come true. They destroyed the robots in the primary security subsector, disrupted the security controls there, managed to put a stop to the fuel production, returned to their point of entry, secondary engineering, and sabotaged the ship that would take the Drive and the core into Golarion's orbit. It was that battle that brought them down. How they managed to down that Overlord robot I will never know. But..." she adds sadly, removing the bandages from the human's head. "As you will see Unity still had the chance to disable them. Possibly permanently she adds through gritted teeth. Once the bandages are removed, it is clear that the top of the man's cranium was cut open by the clean wound that seem to go around his head. With a sour look upon her face, she gently removes the top to expose a mostly empty brain cavity. "They are all in the same state. They aren't dead... Although they might as well be if their condition cannot be remedied. They are missing not only most of their brains but also their souls." She quietly places the top back, and begins to bandage the man up again. "Thus I have not been able to communicate with them agent Urko. Magical healing wasn't a realistic option before you arrived, with all the Zyphites around, but from what I can tell it wouldn't matter. You could heal their bodies, but with their souls missing, you might as well revive a meat puppet. I won't stop you from trying though." She sighs before continuing: "I think that this Unity was sending any would-be rescuers a message. The cuts were done in such a clean fashion, I have no doubt it wanted me to know how powerful it is, capable of sparing life, but enslaving the soul. But I think that it cost Unity a great deal. You'll see what's left of the Overlord robot. Anyone repairing that might as well set aside three lifetimes."
Turning to VC Hugo, she says: "Ours was an... informal contract. A verbal agreement if you will. They wished to destroy Unity. That much is clear to me. And yes, they only wanted access to Silver Mount. It was highly unusual, but I was mostly interested in making a power play against Zaidow. Things were getting... Well. Even for an organization such as ours he was authorizing things that weren't right. And I never saw the Technic League as being what it is now, I was interested in having a League that resembled the original League. So I used them. But now... I mean." She sighs. "I suppose this is what guilt feels like" she comments bitterly. "Access to Silver Mount is usually reserved for members of the League or special guests. I was bending the rules to knock Zaidow out of power."
Looking over to Miranda, she begins "Before I answer your question, I'd just like to say that if you are going to give me a fake name, you might as well get creative and not give me a gibberish name. No offense. With that said, no, I didn't go in there alone. I had a few League commandos and Lieutenant Desaulis over there with me. She was the agent that returned from Silver Mount to tell me about what was going on. And make me wonder if these adventurers hadn't been telling the truth all along."
Lieutenant Desaulis nods as a greeting as captain Zernebeth returns to her desk. "If you are still willing, to end Unity you are going to need to enter the "head" of the ship. That is likely where Unity's computer core resides. I would start with the Command Deck. Perhaps there is a way to access the core from there. Unity prior to all this would have been a navigator AI in all likelihood. Probably. So I'd move towards anything having to do with navigating in space. But before you get there, I'd suggest stopping by a spot my adventuring friends made a note of. The Recreation deck: Unity might be drawing some sort of power from that area. Not sure what, the notes are unclear."
|
|
Urko looks over the poor souls who have had their brains removed. This I think requires more power than I as yet possess. Maybe in time..., he trails off.
So, a hyper intelligent robot bent on world domination, that certainly sounds like something we should stop. I would like a day to prepare, there are enchantments I wish to weave to strengthen us for the trials ahead...after that though, we should strike as quickly as we can.
|
|
"I do not have an issue but as you can probably tell, being a member of the Technic League no longer commands a whole lot of power. I do not know that I can get you a place to rest."
Lieutenant Desaulis pipes up: "Perhaps you could discuss these things with Lady Kul-Inkit? Her guard told me that if the Pathfinders needed anything, especially a bath and soap, they should seek her out."