"With these strange events, those with knowledge of the beyond seem the most qualified to help us resolve our situation."
"I'm from Halakh, though I'm not welcome back. My tribe, the Sem, have exiled me. In our language, 'Ahur' means someone cut off and unacknowledged. 'Semahur' has become my name when their backs were turned on me. So I traveled to Nemedia to sell my sword for the best price."
If the memory of his exile is painful, Argoth's face doesn't show any evidence of it.
Xanos considered for a moment, as though not sure how to answer the question, or even if he wanted to.
It matters not. This world is as far removed theirs as theirs is from mine. They may actually be able to comprehend.
You and your ridiculous tests. Pathetic.
Xanos sighed in resignation and seemed to make a decision.
"MU." he said firmly.
The story goes that Mu was the greatest empire the world has ever seen, rising to heights of wealth and power that have never been matched even by Atlantis at it's height, but when the Emperor of Mu spurned the gods and the whole land was destroyed.
That happened before the cataclysm that sank Atlantis and Lemuria. Scholars have a hard time even agreeing on where Mu was. The estimate is that Mu was destroyed between 6 and 8 thousand years before the Hyborean age.
Xanos has the telltale flickering focus of someone in mental communication with someone else. He doesn't seem particularly happy about the conversation.
"Nemedia, Mu, Hyboria? I don't need to look those up, I know them from when I was a kid." Peter looks shocked. "I don't know how it's possible, but these guys are from the stories of Robert E. Howard. You know, Conan the Barbarian? Probably way before your time Lulu. What the f##% is going on... How did they get here?"
Dorin actually pauses his meal - a momentous event - at the dual revelations of Xanos' supposed origin and their reality, contemplative for a moment. Then he grunts in apparent amusement and returns to the food.
Imaginary worlds, tales of fantasies, these were for folk who couldn't accept the here and now. Dorin had always been a creature of the present. Let loftier folk with little to do ponder the meaning of it all, he would enjoy the meal before him.
When Lulu asks how they came here, he responds between bites. "A sorcerer made a hole in the sky," chomp, "And we were pulled to a place not far from where we met with you."
Argoth drops the spoon in his hand when he hears Xanos answer. "MU? Seriously? You're from...? You're..." He looks squarely at the sorcerer. "You're old."
Looking back to Lulu, he points to Dorin and says, "Yeah, that's about right." He grabs another piece of ham and shoves it into his mouth.
"A hole in the sky? What is this, Army of Darkness? Well, I don't know how any of this make sense, but I'll start looking into it. Can they provide any more details about the hole in the sky? Did they see anything while they were passing through the hole? So, can they do whatever they did to teach you aquilonian," Peter stops to chuckle that he just used that phrase in a serious connotation, "to teach themselves english?"
Argoth chews on the ham, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Then he swallows and says, "So, let's get this right. The places we come from are part of a story. Like ones the minstrels tell? And they're about Conan 'the Barbarian'? Seriously, him? Are any of us mentioned in it? Or the battle we were in? Maybe they told of us becoming Kings too!"
"Well, it's more than just a story, it's a whole mythos developed around a single man's work. Books, movies, games etc. The original author wrote mostly short stories following the life of Conan of Cimmeria. Let me go grab a tablet, I'll be right back." Peter gets up and leaves the room. Less than a minute later he has returned with a tablet PC that looks like a half-inch thick transparent slab of glass. The side facing him is displaying some text. He sits back down and says, "Yeah here, listen 'Know, O Prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars - Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia,Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west. Hither came Conan the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the earth under his sandled feet.' that's from something called the Nemedian Chronicles. Sound like home?"
After thinking for a moment he continues, "The 'sons of Aryas' is a reference to our own earth's past. Most people don't believe that Atlantis was real, but those that do would pull a date for the sinking of Atlantis out of their ass at around 10000 BCE. The sons of Aryas is an old name for the people who wrote the Vedas in northern India at around 2000 BCE on our calendar. That's 4000 years ago. That gives us an approximate 6000 year window for the Conan stories to have taken place in. The thing is, Howard wasn't writing about another world, but a supposedly pre-historic age of our own world."
Dorin half rose out of his seat, glaring at Argoth, as the man's words seemed to disparage the great Cimmerian. Perhaps fortunately for everyone, he was distracted as Lulu started to translate Peter's words.
The Aesir's eyes burned with something very like zeal at the proud description of their homeland and the mighty Conan. To call himself worthy of being one of the great King's companions had been Dorin's first and greatest dream, and the woven tale rekindled the old fire in his heart. He frowned, though, as the topic turned to dates and times.
"Then...if we are to believe this 'Howard' bard, this is some future time?" His mouth twisted with distaste. "I cannot say I care for what has happened in the between time."
Anhur chokes on his meal at the mention of Mu. He seems to hear as the others go on about the stories of Hyboria and myths and the future, but none of it really sticks. He just slowly continues eating, nodding, and trying to keep it together. As a child, he'd always dreamt of finding a relic or ruin of Mu and learning the secrets of that world. He'd imagined unlocking the ancient power and becoming a great sorcerer himself. Now, at this very table, a living relic of Mu sits before him.
Bunken watches and listens as the conversation unfolds. His eyebrows perk up at the mention of Mu, and they raise a bit further when he learns that these new people have heard of their homeland, though only in fantasy fiction. Then, shaking his head and resigning himself to confusion, he reaches for the large pitcher of hard cider and -- after sniffing it questioningly -- he takes a long, long, long drink and returns it to the table half-empty. "Well then, if this isn't Hyboria, where are we?"
"And what's a 'car'?"
"Then we have traveled through time. Not to another world, but to our own, some thousands of years later. At the least, getting back should be easier."
Why go back? What it there for one such as you?
"Traveled through time. Whoa. I've skipped whole days before, maybe even a month or two, with black outs and confusion that left me in places I'd never known. But this is the ultimate black out." Bunken reaches for the pitcher, then stops and thinks better of it. He stands up, sways a bit, then pushes away his chair and turns...
"It's not that I don't care. I just don't think it matters. We're here now, and there's no reason behind it. Freak chance. I'll kill people if I'm hired to do it, and I'll kill zombies if they're trying to kill me. I'll fight to survive -- fight to live, fight to laugh and cry. That's what I've always done, and it's gotten me this far."
"I'll be in bed. Drinking."
Argoth leans back when Dorin rises. "What, big man? I've heard many tales in my life, and those in Halakh or Stygia would not tell the story the same way. The scroll of glass even mentioned it. 'Thief, Reaver, Slayer.' Conan was these things too." He sits back a bit smugly and waves his hand. "But Bunken is right. It may matter none. If those tales tell the truth, then Conan was destined to triumph, and I probably would have died on the losing side. So, I drink to my life!" He raises up a cup of the golden liquid and then drinks it.
"What blows my mind more than time travel is that what Howard was writing about actually happened. Please don't leave just yet Bunken. I had intended to discuss business, but I got distracted by the mystery of you all. You're probably right though, however you got here it doesn't matter. You are all here now. You offered your swords in exchange for a home. Lulu, why don't you tell them about the mission you were on?"
"There are many ways in which this 'Howard' could have known the events of what were, to him, the distant past. He seemed to have a significant connection to the King of Aquilonia. Reincarnation is a possibility. Or a sort of reverse-prophesy. Perhaps a dream-sending that linked the two across the ages. Perhaps Howard was in fact Conan, or one of his companions, later in his life, thrust through time as we were, writing stories of his own youth."
"Time travel creates and forces possibilities that are difficult to fathom for most minds."
"I'll be needin' something a bit stronger than that candy juice, then..." Bunken shakes his head and smirks. He leaves anyway, but returns after only a minute or two with the remnants of the Jack Daniels. He takes a swig, then puts the very last few swigs of the bottle on the table and makes an inviting motion with his hand. "I saved it for emergencies." Most of you know that he's consumed almost the entire bottle in little more than a day -- hardly "saving" it.
He settles down to listen, slouching heavily in his chair.
Dorin snorts in derision at Argoth's admission of probable defeat, and settles back down to hear Lulu's tale.
Missing the thrust of her joke about the small Franceman, Dorin nods thoughtfully at the idea of him also being thrust through time.
As she continues on, he frowns incredulously at the description of these 'machine gun' weapons. It's difficult for the big man to believe that something so small could be as fearsome as Lulu seems to think it is. Had he not seen her in battle, he would dismiss her fear as the panic of a girl child, but... He looks longingly at the remains of the meal, then stands. "I would see this 'stick' that Redd carries perform. If it is as fearsome as you say, then your Napoleon might be a truly worthy foe."
"I would like to see it too. Redd held it much as we hold our swords. If this is your method of fighting, we had better see it in action. Besides, I've got to see something that 'tears up your s#!#'!"
"Neither of the other two teams returned either. Now we know for sure that this Napoleon is a real threat. I did get word from some friends that one of our agents, Isaac Bosson, was captured by Napoleon's men. He was heading down the Big Walnut to see if the Bonapartists had made it that far west yet. That information is vital. If we're dealing with an expansionist regime here, New Westerville is a ripe target for conquest. I know you just got back Lulu, but I need you to lead these men out on a rescue mission. Even if you can't recover Isaac we still need to know the situation on the rivers. As for weapons, of course we'll have to get you all outfitted with firearms. But with the ammo situation being what it is, it's probably a good thing these guys are used to killing with primitive weapons."
"Excellent plan, Dorin! Let's see the weaponry of the future!" Bunken is clearly glad to have stuck around, perking up at the thought of the spectacle.
"Well... if this is the payment you request for housing us, it sounds like we're in your debt."
"I won't force you to do anything to stay here. But if you want this place to stay a nice place for you to live, we need to stop this Napoleon before he conquers all of Columbus. If you value your freedom, that's the price. From what we've heard this guy is a mutant supremacist. He turns any humans he comes across into slaves, or conscripts them as gun fodder for his front lines. Women and children anyone who he can't use are put to the sword. I'm sure you know the type from back in Hyboria. Bad business."
Dorin's face becomes a thundercloud at the mention of slavery, and the table creaks under unexpected pressure from his fist. Clearly not a subject he is pleased with.
"Ah, so free one of your own from a slaver, turned warlord." Argoth says. "Perhaps kill him in the process, since that would make you safer." He shrugs. "If that's the task, then so be it. We fight the corpses as well as men. They should die easier."
"Dead become living corpses..." Anhur snaps out of his stupor to consider that statement. "I believe this could give us a strategic advantage." He grins at Argoth to see if he catches the drift.
"If they're going to outnumber us, we should definitely have a plan. Something cunning and unexpected. An ambush. Get Dorin right up close before they see us somehow -- some of your magic tricks might be necessary." Bunken sits lazily back in his chair, counting his words out on his fingers.
Argoth looks at Anhur for a moment. "Corpses, an advantage?" Suddenly his eyes widen. "Ah! You want to kill some of them in their ranks and then when they rise, they will throw their lines into chaos! Or if we can kill some of them without then knowing, then they'll be fighting the corpses inside their walls and we can get our man and get out."
Anhur smirks proudly at the genius of his idea, waiting for the others to weigh in.
"Potentially a double-edged sword, but the tactic is not without merit."
"Isaac was headed down the river. I want you to do the same. I'll give you a boat and guns. The Big Walnut connects to the Scioto south of the city. Isaac's mission was to see if they'd made it as far west as the river, and to assess the situation there. He is also a psychic, though no where near as good as Lulu. Still, if you get close enough to them you might be able to communicate with him telepathically." He taps the tablet several times, searchign through various images until he comes up with one he likes. "Here, look at this map." Pointing to the center he indicates Big Walnut Creek, "We're here, next to this reservoir, on the former borders of Franklin and Delaware counties." He traces the Big Walnut south with his finger to where it meets the Scioto river at the southern border of Franklin county. "There are two targets that might be of interest to Napoleon down there. First is Rickenbacker Airforce base. There are a lot of powerful weapons and ammunition stored there. Last anyone knew though, it was protected by drones on twenty four hour surveillance, and terminators on base. The second potential target is Riverton. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. It's a lawless 'trading outpost'. Mostly they just extort river merchants in the name of protection from the Yellows. If either one has fallen to Napoleon we might have more trouble than we thought."
"Terminators?" Xanos said, obviously wanting more information.
"It's a nickname for machines shaped like men, built to kill. They have no fear, no mercy, never get tired, and are stronger than men. Our government used to use them in its wars, and in keeping the people in line."
"Perhaps we should go to this Base and secure the weapons there first, before Napoleon has a chance." Argoth shakes his head. "Machines doing men's work. Your world is strange."
Peter laughs. "You really don't get it. Those robots would kill you before you even saw them, from hundreds of feet up in the air. They launch a metal tube the size of a tree branch at you that could destroy this entire building in one blow. I don't know how Napoleon would have gotten inside, I'm just fearing he might have by Lulu's description of the hardware he's packing."
"Is that how guns work? Destroy an entire building with one shot?"
"I want one. When do we get them?" Bunken is eager about one thing and one thing only at the moment, apparently.
"That's how explosives work. AGM-114 Hellfire air to surface missiles to be precise. Here's a description of how they kill," Peter says, taping quickly on his tablet. After a moment he begins to read, 'The [blast] kill mechanism against living targets is unique–and unpleasant…. What kills is the pressure wave, and more importantly, the subsequent rarefaction [vacuum], which ruptures the lungs…. If the fuel deflagrates but does not detonate, victims will be severely burned and will probably also inhale the burning fuel. Since the most common FAE fuels, ethylene oxide and propylene oxide, are highly toxic, undetonated FAE should prove as lethal to personnel caught within the cloud as most chemical agents.' He pauses for a moment, "In case that was too many big words, it turns your lungs inside out at the same time it melts you, flesh and bone, while also killing you through toxic chemical exposure." Peter looks a little sick to his stomach. "Before the Yellow Dawn WorldGov had weapons that could kill all the people on the whole earth with the push of a button. There were things called hydrogen bombs that could turn an entire city, as far as your eyes could see, to fire and ash in an instant, then poison the land, air and water for days and days around the explosion. Thousands and thousands of these bombs. It was terrifying really. That's one thing I don't miss. The last thing anyone needs is for a psychopath with delusions of grandeur getting his hands on even a small fraction of that power."
Argoth sits stunned at Peter's words. "You had that kind of power and now you want us to fight for you?" He glances down at his sword. "I do not think our steel will match that kind of destruction."
"I had no such power. I was a scientist, a researcher of disease. The ruling elite and the armies that supported them controlled that power. I just want you to go see what's going on, and see if you can find Isaac. I'm not asking you to fight predator drones and terminators. With the guns we'll give you, you should be essentially as well armed as anything you might come across. Lack of ammunition is real problem, so your blades and bows will still come in handy I'm sure. Well, I think we're basically finished here. Feel free to rest as long as you like. I'll go tell Steve at Aumiller's to expect you for firearm training. It's just up the street at the corner, Lulu can show you the way. There's a range out back where he can teach you to shoot. I'd prefer to get a couple days of shooting into you before I send you all back out into the wilds. You're welcome to stay as my guests until then. Lord knows I've got the room. If you need anything just ask me or Jennifer." He doesn't quite get up to leave, but it's clear he's waiting to gauge reactions before doing so.
Machines stronger than a man...we shall see.
Dorin stands and offers Peter an appreciative nod, thanking the man for his hospitality without words.
Xanos listened, pieces fitting together in his head. He nodded.
"The principal is quite elegant in it's simplicity. Air pressure can be made quite dangerous. Combining it with a potent corrosive would be quite a weapon. A gruesome concept, but quite an expensive undertaking. The creation of two separate catalysts that did not interfere with each other would be necessary, and would need to be made in sufficient volume to effect such a wide area. Given time I could build such a thing, but I can think of dozens of more efficient means to similar ends. For similar investment of time and resources, one could simply capture and raise a dragon, for example."
"Those who made this weapon must have solved the factor of resource rarity in a way I cannot fathom. If not, why would they bother?"
Not now.