Gyrwynt |
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Neidr Nine: A swampy blue pearl on the outskirts of the Lesser Belkzen imperial alliance. A star system colonized by Orcs, they have established a brutal hold on the entire system... Save for one certain planet.
7th planet orbiting the sun, Neidr Nine has been judged to be completely worthless for subjugation- Naturally due to the lack of easily harvest-able resources: To imply the War-like Orcs are simply incapable of establishing dominance is mere hearsay, and a legally admissible expression of low treason.
The Primary problem Orcs face is the overwhelming abundance of Proteans ... Proteans that guns can't handle. Addressed by researches as "Pelagastr's", tales are told of the first orcs who sailed down to the surface: Brave explorers who met a watery grave when the very seaweed itself rose beyond the waves- Possessed by Pelagastrs as temporary hosts until new bodies could be found. All the Orcs on that expedition soon became possessed, and consequently drowned. Or electrocuted. Or accidentally shot as their Pelagastr hosts remembered the joy of possessing bodies of their own- Albeit for a short time.
Consequently, military ventures to establish a stronghold always end the same way: Pelegastr Proteans rise en-mass to slip through the ships hull and possess the soldiers. Or Proteans get into the wiring and short-circuit key components. Or Proteans warp the very material of the ship into something less aerodynamic- Such as Basalt or Cotton candy. The military annals of the Lesser Belkzen Imperial alliance mark countless failures until the reigning Orcs simply decided "It's conquered!" and "Let's move on to the next planet!"
Unbeknownst to the reigning government of the galaxy... Material life has, somehow, managed to find root on a planet dictated by the tides in both the material sense, and the spiritual sense:
Miniscule Astrozans the size of a pebble work diligently on the Northern pole. Their capitol- Reefworks- Is nothing more than a bottle adrift in the seas. A bottle that happens to be warded against immaterial possession, and completely self sustained. They hold knowledge on how to craft "Ghost-proof materials" of all sorts, and may be willing to share their secrets should an adventurer discover the lone bottle: The hardest needle in a haystack the galaxy has to offer.
The Equator also bears the fruit of civilization: A network of tradeships, all run by Skittermanders. This community- charmingly named "Floatsbarely", lives and dies on the seas... Untouched by the countless Protean horde living beneath the waves. Certain research institutes keep this civilization a top-level secret as a case study on Pelagastr Possession... Or rather, the lack of it among Skittermanders. Curious scholars and scientists have a number of theories on this seeming immunity: Some say that Skittermanders are inherently Chaotic enough to avoid the Protean's attention. Others claim the reason must be divine- Perhaps these Sea-faring Skittermanders offer sacrifice or tribute for Protection. The most outlandish theory claims that Skittermanders where born as mortal heralds and children of the illusive Speakers of the Depths- Of course, this is a laughable claim made by a single brilliant, if slightly off-kilter scientist and linguist.
Regardless, there is only so much these researchers can learn from safe orbit, and they would be delighted to pay a group of adventurers handsomely to make the trip down to "Floatsbarely" and gather some scientific data and samples. The only challenge is to make it out alive, when the very sea churns with the mysteries of the deep.