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Part of that mandate has been the organisation of the Infernal forces we have brought forth to restore Order to Westcrown. It has been a true pleasure to set my ever-growing legions upon this most important of tasks, and to great effect, might I add. High Priest Garestic and Paralictor Chard have been truly helpful as well in pinpointing the critical points of control within the city. Ser Quintus has also served me well as a troubleshooter. Once we are done with our mission, I have a mind to take him on for my personal retinue, as Father Dexsius no longer seems to have need of his services.

My comrades have not been idle, of course. Lord Vipostix regales me with their exploits in service to the Divine Order, and it would seem they are doing splendidly. Much of the Reclamation’s heresy has been cleansed, with but a few blemishes left to scrub.

One such blemish was brought not just to their attention, but mine. The Dorjanala, a place of both Chelish royal history and a beacon of Arodenite faith, remains an obstacle to the complete dedication of Westcrown to its rightful masters. We recognised this to be the work of Bellinia Dorjana, the Chelaxian high priestess of Iomedae, known as the Silvereye for her rather unique blessing. To complete our work, we would have to remove her.

Much as I respect my allies, they lack the understanding of this mission’s significance, knowledge that I possess. They surely see this as another rebel attempting to defy Hell, but that is an oversimplification of the ritual at play. High Priestess Dorjana, blessed with the vision and role that she has, surely understands that the Divine Order’s blessing requires not just the authority of Hell, but the submission of Heaven. As the Inheritor of Aroden’s will, it is Iomedae’s responsibility to formally complete the transfer of ownership. Likewise, as the descendant of Chelish royalty, it is High Priestess Dorjana’s responsibility to formally cede Westcrown to House Thrune. This is a necessary pact for the proper completion of the Pentagram Ritual, one that we must not neglect any further.

For that reason, I chose to join my companions on this particular mission. It is best that I be there to ensure that the transfer of power is completed correctly, after all. Lady Arcatraz, knowledgeable in rituals as she is, opted to leave this one to us, as this was first and foremost a ritual steeped in religious significance.

As always, Mister Kezax took the vanguard, scouting the Dorjanala. The site was unmistakably bathed in the Inheritor’s light, protected not just by its attendants, but by the Lady of Valor herself. The Light within the Shadow made for splendid imagery. It filled me with anticipation for the eclipse that would come.

Temoni’s magic and Othiel’s divinely structured presence ensured that the barriers would not prevent our arrival. None greeted us, though the sounds of prayer emanated from the conservatory. High Priestess Dorjana and her acolytes surely expected our arrival, and had wasted no time in preparing the site of the ritual.

Before we could join them, Othiel declared our arrival with a wail of ecstasy, a cry that alerted us to the presence of other guests. A group of wolf-like beings were waiting in one of the side rooms. I’ve long understood the symbolism of hounds as the guardians of thresholds. So many times, even going as far back as the rebels in Longacre and my very first mission upon returning from my pilgrimage, they have been a symbol of my taking a step into a new phase. Clearly, these beings, so far from home, served a similar purpose.

As I got to work completing the first stage of the ritual, Father Dexsius continued to the conservatory. In that moment, he faced the next test, one that challenged his strength of devotion. Much like House Thrune, thrice he was damned with the words of Destruction, and then struck with the fires of perdition. An unworthy representative would have surely perished, but Father Dexsius did not falter in the face of this test. I thank the Divine Order to have granted me such a stalwart ally, as I can think of none better to hold its virtues with such unrelenting determination.

As Father Dexsius held his ground and I tended to the hound-men, Paraduke Kennari and Mister Kezax saw to the attendants at our rear. Surely, as representatives of the Inheritor, a test of strategic acumen would be needed, so an ambush ought to be expected. The priests divided our battle with walls of blades, leaving Othiel with me and the Paraduke with his summoned earth elemental and Mister Kezax to support him. Clearly, the next test would be whether we could be divided and conquered, as surely the servants of the Divine Order would maintain unity at all times. The High Priestess sought proof by attempting to remove some of Father Dexsius’ protective magic. The Paraduke, despite being obstructed, still came to his ally’s aid and denied this, once more proving our righteousness.

For the next test, Father Dexsius would have his faith tested. The hound-men, satisfied with my performance but needing to prevent interference for this stage, covered the corridor with sleet. This allowed High Priestess Dorjana to focus her attention on the Asmodaean. She struck him with a powerful word of magic that could not be refuted. Under any other circumstance, no mortal could withstand such an utterance. Here, it was not Father Dexsius’ personal strength that was tested, but his faith. By invoking Lord Asmodeus against impossible odds, he proved his devotion, and in doing so, averted certain death.

If there was any doubt left in Father Dexsius’ worthiness as an avatar of Hell’s authority, it was snuffed out in that moment.

The hound-men departed in that moment for the conservatory, which made clear that it was my turn to join in the next test. Paraduke Kennari was kind enough to remove the storm that raged, giving me passage to join Father Dexsius. There, I saw a ghaele azata poised to strike at him. Perhaps some might question why filth from Elysium would enter such a place of sacred Order, but its purpose was clear. Just as Desxius proved that the Divine Order must hold firm against all challenges, I needed to prove that we are able to strike back at the nefarious forces that would erode us. After the magnificent performances thus far, I could not be lacking. I was not, and my sword struck as true as it should.

By this point, Paraduke Kennari and Mister Kezax had done enough with the rear guard to leave what remained to the elemental and join us in the conservatory to begin the offensive. We had done admirably thus far, but the test was not yet done. High Priestess Dorjana called forth magic befitting Iomedae’s representative. None save Othiel and myself, as servants who recognise the Inheritor’s graceful role within the Divine Order, were granted the next privilege: an audience with Iomedae herself!

Brief as it was, I could not allow the opportunity to go to waste. I pledged before the Lady my undying devotion to the cause of the Divine Order, that I would see the mission she had set before us to completion. Her High Priestess, who so graciously offered herself as the sacrifice for such an important ritual, would be handled with the utmost respect, and soon I would see to it that Her chosen Alexeara Cansellarion is properly shepherded into the Divine Order, as she so clearly wished. Exalted as I was, I was unable to register the words she spoke to me, though I need not hear them to know their contents. I have not a shred of doubt in my mind that she is proud of the services I have done for her and the Divine Order.

When I returned to the plane of mortals, Othiel was still wrapped in his communion. As a celestial himself, I understand his desire to remain in that blessed place for a while longer.

While I had been speaking to the Inheritor, the clerics had turned their attention to the Paraduke. Though the strength of his devotion is admirable, the depth of his faith are not as profound as that of Father Dexsius nor I, so while he passed, it was with some difficulty. Fortunately, in his wisdom he used the last of his strength to join Father Dexsius, who returned him to form. The Divine Order is a testament that a whole is greater than the sum of its parts, and so too is a band of comrades greater than any one agent.

Contributions from Father Dexsius, Mister Kezax, and even Miss Zylstra brought an end to the test, ending the attendant clerics. I personally saw to the azata. A single hound-man pledged itself to its new purpose, and was generously taken in by Lord Vipostix. A single cleric remained in the main hall, keeping Tayapket and the Paraduke’s elemental preoccupied so as not to disrupt the final ritual.

With all of her trials completed, all that remained for High Priestess Dorjana was to submit to the final stage that would mark the complete transition of power. Naturally to prevent any mishaps, I took measures to ensure that any involuntary reflexes such as a flailing limb would not interfere. Mister Kezax was kind enough to assist; bolts make excellent stakes.

As Father Dexsius is our representative of Lord Asmodeus, apex deity of the Divine Order’s hierarchy and recipient of the ritual’s charge, it was appropriate that he oversee the ritual. I merely uttered words of thanks to the Blessed Hierarchy for this glorious evolution. Every Duke of Hell bore witness through the stained glass as the Inheritor’s light relinquished its hold over the ancient bastion to the Infernal Masters.

As we pushed forward, we passed by the window that offered a glimpse into the rest of our greater location. I only got a brief look, so I couldn’t learn much more than we had from the scarab, but I could at least confirm that what we witnessed was not an anomaly from our digital imaging. Either the location had an immense canopy of some kind, or we were indeed under a starless sky.

My observations were interrupted by the vanguards of our team running into a patrol of necrobot soldiers. Meved wasted no time in charging them through the narrow corridor, forcing them to backpedal. Yaro pushed forward as well, which admittedly worried me given his recent near brush with death, but he more than demonstrated that he was able to handle himself against a simple necrobot soldier. In fact, the absolute feat of swordplay he demonstrated reminded me of the famous Sarenite whirling dervish techniques. I never knew Yaro was a practitioner of that style. It leaves me to wonder if there are some other tricks that dog might be hiding from me…

The soldiers didn’t end up being much of a threat. We’d grown so accustomed to dealing with tougher units that they seemed weak by comparison. Still, they weren’t to be underestimated, so I disabled some of their combat capabilities for good measure while the rest of our group went in for the finishing blows.

We found ourselves with two rooms in our immediate vicinity. One we knew to be the location of the facility’s main power station, while the other was the room with the bodyguards and suspicious sarcophagus. We opted to proceed directly to the sarcophagus room, which in retrospect might have been a mistake on our part. As soon as the doors opened, the immortals in the room opened fire on us. Fortunately, I too was ready for such an ambush. I managed to scramble one of their targeting systems before it could do some serious damage to Meved.

The start of our fight followed a typical flow. Meved charged in, this time ignoring the lynchguard at the front to go after the immortals. I believe the logic was to disrupt their heavy weapons and remove the smaller threats quickly, allowing us to collectively focus on the lynchguard. Normally that would have been a sound plan, but we neglected the factor of any potential threats coming from behind. A “spyder” unit appeared from the power room, along with several swarms of hostile scarabs, effectively flanking us. I was immediately swarmed, and it was all I could do to run out of the cloud and corner myself.

I only barely managed to recover when the swarms managed to overtake the entire rest of our backline. Yaro, Vinu, and Tibbers were completely covered by the creatures, keeping them momentarily out of the fight. With no real options to deal with the swarms myself and the lynchguard far too close for comfort, I chose a very risky gambit. I tried to repeat my stasis protocol on the lynchguard, holding them in place. It almost didn’t work, but a bit of on the spot rewriting of its defence mechanisms forced the protocol into effect, allowing me to reposition and support the rest of my allies.

With the lynchguard temporarily immobilised, Meved returned his attention to the back of the room and unleashed his canon back at the lynchguard as well as the scarab swarms. Moments later Yaro recovered enough to do the same with his disintegrator. The combined blasts cleared out the swarms and forced the spyder to retreat. That gave us the opportunity we needed to focus all of our attacks on the lynchguard.

The remaining immortals stayed in the back throughout this situation, still attempting to break Meved’s necrodermic carapace with their heavy weapons. At some point when I wasn’t looking, Vinu went after one of them, which is likely why it wasn’t causing us any real trouble. The other almost managed to land a critical strike on our bear, but I recognised the targeting sequence from when we had first opened the doors to this room and applied the same interference. My active scrambling may be a significant drain on resources, but the value it brings in denying enemy capabilities makes it more than worth the cost.

It is fortunate then that Tibbers’ piloting wetware implants are far from standard. For whatever reason, his cerebral implant code, which my former professors would have surely evaluated as inelegant at best, adapts remarkably well to necrobot interfaces. We saw this with the piloting console on the pyramid vessel, and again with the command console in the necrobot facility. Tibber’s implants make a better interpreter than my specialised software. Still, I could not explain why that is. Maybe it’s simply that good pilots also make good vehicles. Then again, I would not dare test that hypothesis with Vinu…

In any case, the combined efforts of Tibbers and I allowed us to crack the command console. From what I could decipher, the terminal was one piece of a much larger network, the main terminal for which was located three floors above. That alone suggested the existence of stairs or an elevator in the facility. After cross-referencing with the map we generated from our drone work, there is only one doorway we didn’t check, leaving us with the likely location. The fact that there are at least three more floors in this facility that we know nothing about is concerning, but not something we can address at the moment. We will simply have to do our best to be prepared for any surprises the necrobots might have in store, which is not exactly a new situation for us.

As for the information we could gather, I was able to pull a massive database of necrobot soldiers. I could not say if it was every necrobot in existence, every necrobot in the Khalfani Dynasty, or just every necrobot in this region, but regardless, the actual count was staggering. However, only a very small portion of them seemed to be active. The vast majority of the entries were listed as dormant. Perhaps the necrobots only keep a small portion of their population active at a time for energy conservation, or there is some other factor keeping them in check. Whatever the case may be, it means the threat they pose, at least for now, is much smaller than it could be. In a sense that’s a relief, but without any knowledge as to why so many necrobots are dormant, it’s a small comfort. For all we know, the entire necrobot population could awaken and attack at any moment. Given the numbers I saw and what we already know about necrobot combat capabilities, there is no way the Pact Worlds would stand a chance against such an onslaught.

Besides the count, I was also able to determine a few other useful details. I finally learned the official necrobot designations for several of the unit types we’d encountered thus far. I’ve retroactively updated my records to use these designations, which should help for future combat and research records. Would that the terminal had more cultural information on each unit type, but extracting any information was already difficult, and even if I could retrieve that data, actually parsing it would have taken time we didn’t have, so my subsequent queries were more targeted.

The highest ranking unit on the floor we were located on was named “Aserak the Obsidian Shard”. Tibbers offered up a less flattering variation of the name that I will not repeat here, but that evoked thoughts of an unclean posterior. Assuming this individual was located in the crypt that was being watched over by two lynchguards and two “immortals”, I dread to think of the type of power Aserak might wield. If necrobot hierarchy is indeed defined by combat prowess as it seems to be, then perhaps our posteriors ought to be the unclean ones…

Next I inquired about the location of the “tomb sentinel”, which is the designation used for the giant robotic centipede we spotted with the scarab drone. It was confirmed as being in the room directly north of us, where it was when we first scouted. We collectively decided that it would be best to fight it before progressing further into the facility, lest it ambush us in an inopportune time.

Before any scholars reading this in some far future question if I had abandoned my attempts at seeking peace by this point, know that I did attempt to see if the necrobots had any record of first contact protocols or diplomatic procedures. If such protocols exist, they were not documented in the terminal.

My last action before disconnecting was to do my best to scrub our digital footprint from the system. Some of my questions seemed to be triggering scrutiny from the system, and while I do not know for certain if the necrobots could or would trace our hack back to Tibbers’ implants, it seemed wise to mitigate that risk nonetheless. I somewhat regret mentioning that to Tibbers, as he spent the next hour or so expressing fears about the necrobots “hacking and melting his brain”.

Your Majesty, I am pleased to report that the ongoing project to retake control of Westcrown is progressing smoothly. The agents you've sent have continued to demonstrate excellent skill in systematically demolishing key pillars of the Reclamation’s infrastructure. At our current velocity, I anticipate Westcrown’s complete submission within a month's time.

To corroborate the account of the situation with Ambassador Kyniar, I can confirm that Paraduke Kennari and Archbishop Oscellus were successful in persuading the Taldan ambassador to comply with the relocation request without the need of any magical interference nor problematic methods. Classic Chelaxian diplomatic insinuation was sufficient to persuade him to go along willingly.

The Fey Court’s plot against Ambassador Kyniar was very helpful in the discussions. I applaud your intelligence network for their shrewd work. Naturally, there is no tangible reason for the ambassador to suspect that we had any involvement in the Court’s actions against him, though from what I know of Vors, he may come to believe it was our doing regardless. If he does, rest assured that there is no proof with which to make such an accusation credible. Similarly, I do not believe the agents suspect any such conspiracy exists either, or if they do they are discreet enough for it to not be an issue.

The protection provided by the agents was satisfactory. They were effectively able to repel the ankou without any harm coming to the ambassador. One bodyguard suffered injuries, but nothing that wouldn't be expected in the line of duty, and all clearly perpetrated by the fey assassin.

Special mention is merited for Paraduke Temoni. His magical protections and overt selfless acts were instrumental in preventing any harm to the ambassador while demonstrating the sincerity of House Thrune’s protection. His political and arcane acumen are excellent, and his devotion to you rivals, if not eclipses, that which he had for your great-grandmother. I understand that your Majesty holds the Paraduke in high regard, so I wish to express my gratitude for sending him on this venture. During his escort of the ambassador, I understand he took the opportunity to report to you personally and offered his own assessments. I pray to Lord Asmodeus that his opinions on me were similarly favourable.

With regards to the kobolds in service of the green dragon Lady Arcatraz, the one known as Kezax did an exceptional job not only in permanently eliminating the ankou, but also in cleaning the suite after the job was done. There was hardly any work left for my own subordinates. However, we observed that after the incident, he brought back a component of the shadow creature. Lady Arcatraz made use of our ritual circle to bind these properties to him. I was not able to take full stock of the effects, as the dragon is not fully forthcoming with her knowledge, and Kezax is exceptionally hard to perceive, but from what I was able to gather, I believe the kobold to now be capable of limited magical power. I'll continue to take stock and provide a summary as I learn more, though it stands to reason that his already considerable assassination skills have been made even more potent. Nevertheless, neither he nor his master have given any indication of enmity against your Majesty at this time.

On the matter of Archbishop Oscellus, following his discussion with you he came to me with a question regarding spiritual matters. In essence, he wished to know whether Hell’s favour is tilted towards House Thrune or the Asmodaean ecclesiarchy.

My answer to him was the same one I once gave to your Majesty: Hell will stand to gain regardless of the victor. The mandate of Hell is given to the mortals who have the drive and guile to claim it, so it is in one’s best interest to use these traits to prove their continued worth to Lord Asmodeus. Those who succeed will have his favour so long as they do so, but those who fail irrevocably will only have value as fuel for his engines, regardless of their intents, ambitions, or faithfulness.

Dexsius was unsatisfied with this response alone, as it did not give him a clear answer, so I continued the exercise by guiding him to assess the two options in as objective a measure as possible. He naturally came to the same conclusion as I did, and sees continued loyalty to House Thrune as the best avenue for personal accomplishment. In my estimation, his loyalty is secure for the time being.

You requested my opinion on Dexsius Oscellus’s suitability for your goals. Your Majesty, he is a blunt instrument of pure Infernal force. He has great talent and acumen that rivals many High Priests, particularly in his mastery of Hell’s gifts, but these talents are more innate than they are the product of trained devotion. His grasp on the political nature of the faith is his weakness, especially considering the immense potential he has. This is why he has not risen the ranks of the church until now, despite his extensive tenure. If he were to wield his skills with more tact, I believe he could easily become one of Hell’s most powerful servants on the mortal plane. However, I believe this same weakness is a strength for House Thrune. So long as Dexsius is convinced of the truth that service to You is service to Lord Asmodeus, then his power is yours to wield as you see fit. You need only ensure that no other force lead him astray, which would be a difficult proposition, given his ironclad will.

With this in mind, I am confident in my endorsement for his candidacy as your next High Priest in Westcrown. With my supervision, I believe he can be a fitting bulwark against any opposing ambitions, while securing your continued relationship with Lord Asmodeus.

On the subject of endorsements, there remains the matter of the new Archbaron Fex. With all due respect your Majesty, the reports of his mental state were severely understated. The man’s mind is so far gone that I hesitate to call him cognisant. The influence of the deimavigga Vipostix is so thorough that it would be more apt to call him a puppet. What I found most impressive while speaking to Dominus is his ability to rationalise any situation to fit his twisted perspective, even without his master’s intervention. As a servant of Lord Asmodeus, I am incredibly impressed with such an effective and obedient agent, and would counsel that you make full use of Vipostix’s talents if you are able. As a mortal servant of House Thrune however, I must advise caution. Vipostix is a manipulator of Hell’s highest order, and his interests in this conflict go beyond Hell’s contract with House Thrune.

Vipostix’s primary objective appears to be to hunt for Iomedaean artifacts. The acquisition of Heart’s Edge is among his top priorities, but from conversations with Dominus, I’ve come to believe that he also has an interest in acquiring Alexeara Cansellarion herself, given her supposed direct connection to Iomedae. My view is that Vipostix takes personal offence at the fact that Iomedae is using a similar form of influence to what he has done with Dominus, and wishes to pervert it to his own ends.

Given our aligned objectives, I believe it would be in your Majesty’s best interest to negotiate a contract using these assets to secure Vipostix’ ongoing alliance after the rebellion is concluded. This should allow you to keep Archbaron Fex as a useful pawn for your projects. I fear that without an established arrangement, Vipostix will have no reason to keep Dominus explicitly in Cheliax’s service once Heart’s Edge and Alexeara Cansellarion are secured. Without that restriction, the risk of collateral damage from his continued existence could prove problematic, to say the least.

This concludes my report, your Majesty. I will continue to observe and report as per your wishes.

Rego Cader is a ruined area in the northern end of Westcrown. It is a hive of scum and villainy, mostly of the distasteful sort. It is separated from the marginally more respectable Rego Crua by a rather large wall, with only the heavily fortified Obrigan Gate functioning as a connection between the two. Well, that is if we exclude the innumerous ways one might get around a perfectly mundane high wall, but it is nevertheless sufficient for the feeble mortals and creatures that inhabit that field of refuse.

Prior to the invasion, the guard faction known as the rundottari took on the responsibility of patrolling the region, but with the Glorious Reclamation at the helm, they’ve reduced that patrol to merely holding the wall and gate. This allowed the riff raff of Cader to fester and form into cabals, or at least the nearest thing their puny minds could approximate to structured organisations. Still, the evolution was significant enough that there might be some value in negotiating with them, at least in a capacity as fodder against the Reclamation…

There is some merit to using such scum for our gain. After all, the Iomedaeans could hardly call themselves orderly if they permitted bandits and monsters to run free, and the more distracted they are, the more freely we can act against them. Ultimately, it is not too dissimilar to how the faceless stalkers were used in Kantaria.

This was the premise the High Priest of Westcrown and the Hellknight Paralictor brought to our agents, and the reason for Dexsius sending his underlings into the rego.

But as one might expect, the minions of minions are rarely so impressive, and these three sub-agents found themselves prey to one of the more able groups within Cader, that being the vampire harem of one “Skinless Sark”.

Do you know of ecorches? I do not refer to the artistic rendition of a skinless humanoid, but rather the creatures that evoke their namesake. Quite nasty things, those giants of flesh and muscle. I’ve made a few of my own over the years, mostly out of boredom, though they can be quite useful for infiltration missions. Simply provide them with a skin, and they can wear it with surprising ease. I confess, I take quite a bit of pleasure in observing the horror in a mortal’s eyes when they witness a massive undead abomination burst out from what they believed to be their comrade or precious mentor. That particular flavour of shock and horror adds a very special spice to their souls.

As you might have surmised by that tangent, Sark was just such a creature, though not one of mine. As for the vampires, I believe they were once the toys of some forgotten actor or some such. Hardly anything worthy of note, save perhaps if one is an aficionado of the Wiscrani theatre scene.

In any case, with the context out of the way, we can resume the tale. Dear reader, I do hope you appreciate the effort I put to enrich these narratives for you. Many in Hell would be honoured to receive a fraction of the attention I generously offer you. I heed you not forget that.

Now, where was I? Right, the sub-minions in the clutches of Sark’s vampiric harem. Trapped as they were, they did still manage to accomplish their task, which was to relay a request to parlay. Sark and his wenches, though undead, were not mindless. They knew the chance to speak to the enemies of the crusaders was one they could not ignore. So, an invitation (though some might call it a ransom) was delivered to Dexsius by way of a scroll of sending. The invitation was immediately accepted.

Our agents were told of Sark’s reputation as a major player in Rego Cader, and subsequently had little trouble making it to the designated meeting place. Naturally with their lizard’s skills, they knew what they would be getting into well in advance, but nevertheless they chose a more diplomatic approach. The negotiation was as simple as one might expect when a trained priest of Asmodeus negotiates with a petty thug with a rotted brain. Sark may be shrewd for his kind, but that only makes him marginally more clever than the average Iomedaean knight. It is much akin to witnessing a trained duelist sparring with an infant.

Much as I would love to disclose the full contract here, it would be poor form of me to publicly expose the exact details of a barrister’s work without formal solicitation. Instead, I shall summarise the broad details of the contract for you: Sark would be granted occasional access to Rego Crua in exchange for rendering services to House Thrune and its representatives (most likely this would come in the form of designated feed targets, but other forms of service were not excluded). Additionally, Sark would return Dexsius’ three valuable underlings for no less than 20 live prey, as well as at least one lieutenant from the Obrigan Gate for Sark’s personal use as a new skin suit.

In order to seal the agreement, our agents needed control of the Obrigan Gate. The ensuing massacre was predictable. A squad of mundane guardsmen and a few lesser holy knights could hardly pose a threat to our chosen Infernal servitors. One earth elemental, various evocations, a few well placed bolts, and an abnormally large swarm of hornets later, and the rundottari were made to provide a sizeable portion of the contract’s prey requirement. Meanwhile, devils and agents loyal to House Thrune would take over operation of the gate. With the loss of Aveshiel, there was nothing the Reclamation’s few remaining patrols could do in response, save abandon the district. The butchers and meat peddlers of Rego Crua would need rely on the benevolence of their returned masters if they did not wish to become meat themselves. A simple arrangement to secure their compliance, indeed.

It remains to be seen for just how long Dexsius intends on keeping his agreement with Sark in place. The undead did not think to include any clause protecting themselves from later retribution, should our agents or House Thrune deem them past their usefulness, but such a clause could have easily been navigated if it was. Such is the folly of negotiating with Hell’s favoured.

That being said, the priest had no qualms with the notion of supplementing the prey quota with his own lesser followers, a surprisingly generous stance towards the ecorche all things considered. Perhaps our tiefling cleric sees special value in keeping Sark satisfied? Could it be part of some grander long term machinations on his part? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps Dexsius truly sees such little worth in the masses of his congregation that their sacrifice are worth it to save him some administrative effort.

Naturally, it would not be difficult for me to expose the reality, but I would not wish to rid you of the privilege of speculating upon it yourself. Stories are always better with a little bit of mystery, after all.

One of the boons that comes with completing the Pentagram Ritual is the ability to use it as a focus point for the Inferno Gates. Given that our agents had already secured one such gate, the realignment was quite simple. Now, there is a direct passage from Malebolge to Westcrown, meaning we can accumulate a suitable legion to bring down upon the upstart Iomedaeans. Much of the week was dedicated to this purpose. Now, I cannot say that we are sending our best. After all, this is a mortal affair, and thus needs only minimal investment on our part. Nevertheless, it will be enough to fulfil our end of the bargain. One interesting detail I’ve heard is that among the forces there are signs of some of green draconic influence. No doubt Gartheris’ prolonged proximity to the gate had something to do with it. Not that We mind. If anything, I suspect Lord Geryon finds it amusing.

Visperthul grumbled somewhat at his relocation, but in time he came around to appreciating the importance of this new assignment. The appropriation of Westcrown is no small achievement, and as such its bridge to Hell merits at least some measure of competent oversight. Well, competent might be a strong word. For an Ayngavhaul of his station to allow someone like the elder Fex to uncover his true name is a significant failure. However, it is a failure that serves me well. It is by my underling’s hand that Visperthul retains some measure of freedom, a debt I will all too gladly collect should I ever have need of it.

Now then, back to the triteness of mortal matters. As our agents have surmised, the Glorious Reclamation’s power structure is ostensibly solid on the surface, but is actually a very fragile house of cards. The bulk of Iomedae’s crusaders are putting all of their effort into maintaining a secure central perimeter around the Korradath. It should come as no surprise that the Inheritor’s vermin would scurry back into her former master’s seat of Imperial power. These simple creatures live in the past, yearning for a lost glory they only believe they once had. In doing so however, they’ve entrusted the care of the rest of the city to but a few key influencers.

Conquest is a simple thing when the enemy misplaces so much trust in their emissaries. Westcrown is in a raw state, easy to sway one way or the other with the right pressure. All it takes is to knock over a few cards, and the underlying support that the Reclamation relies upon will fall apart.

The first, and perhaps most significant of these cards was Aveshiel the Swift. Over the years in my role as the Arch Adjudicator of Celestial Acquisitions, I’ve often found myself at odds with this particular planetar. Iomedae seems to enjoy sending this general to time sensitive situations, which is a descriptor that applies to most instances where I have sought to appropriate heavenly relics. Too often, Aveshiel has swooped in at a most inopportune moment to attempt to deny me my prize.

To date, the most problematic aspect of this planetar is that they are blessed with divine speed. They’ve never sought to confront me nor my minions directly. Instead, they seize that which I covet and immediately abscond beyond Our reach. In Westcrown however, their role is somewhat different. They’ve been tasked with eradicating organisations of lesser mortals and intercept their logistics. The lesser mortals of the Infernal clergy and the Hellknights are too feeble to face an angelic general, so Aveshiel functions as a sort of catch-all one-angel patrol force. A suitable role, all things considered. Something akin to an angelic janitor.

What a shame for them that this also means they would have nowhere to run, lest they abandon their post. It is a rare opportunity, to force my pest into a confrontation from which they cannot flee.

Aveshiel the Swift, swift though they may be, is far from strong enough to contest our agents. Their speed cannot pierce the armour of a high tier Infernal battle cleric. Nor can speed account for that which is undetected, such as the bolt of a particularly subtle kobold assassin. A bolt, might I add, suffused with the power to disrupt angelic properties.

Speed is a useful blessing, but it is, in essence, a multiplier. It relies on a strong base to offer any real benefit. No amount of speed can compensate for impotence. And there are few things as impotent as an angel stripped of their divine connection.

Aveshiel’s demise and its consequences were indeed swift, so their title remained consistent even in death, at least.

The battle transpired in a public space, where many onlookers were able to confirm with their own eyes what had happened. The Wiscrani are an opportunistic sort, shrewd and unprincipled enough to accept whatever status quo befalls them. Seeing one of the Reclamation’s strongest allies fall so resoundingly was a clear message. The streets were no longer the uncontested territory of Heaven’s knights. Rebels could no longer rely on their angelic protection. Loyalists could resume their minor operations with impunity. The citizens of Westcrown would quickly learn to adjust their behaviour.

As for our agents, they chose an interesting trophy. Dexsius’ decision to construct a reliquary from Aveshiel’s fleeting ashes was amusing to say the least. For a mortal to bear the remains of an angel in such a prominent vessel is a mark of great arrogance which I for one applaud. Naturally, it will paint a target upon him for his enemies and rivals in the clergy alike, but Mephistopheles’ pet projects never seem to be too fond of subtlety in their ambitions. When all is said and done, I look forward to adding the trinket to my personal collection, but it shall do well enough in his hands in the meantime.

There is always a risk of cultural misunderstandings on first contact, but these can usually be resolved through careful diplomacy. For that to work however, both parties must at least have a desire for peace. There have been a few instances where first context was met with an impasse, and this is one such case. The necrobots, even those that have the means to communicate, have expressed nothing but contempt and hostility for us.

With that in mind, I don’t expect them to be the most gracious of hosts.

Really, the thing that is most striking about all of this to me is that we are the excursionary force exploring a base belonging to obviously hostile aliens, rather than sending some sort of elite military squadron. I’ll acknowledge that at this stage, we are perhaps the people most familiar with fighting necrobots, but that seems like a dubious honour. It is certainly not something I would be eager to put on my hypothetical wall of accolades.

Still, being the ones best positioned to make the trip, and with the shrinking window to act after our spy drone was eliminated, we decided we’d jump into the fire once more. I anticipated something like this might happen, so I had preemptively hooked up our vitals and audio-video feeds to the Everdawn’s database so that our entire mission would be recorded. I also equipped all of us with panic buttons so that we could alert Soryn and Rasiel if we needed support. In the meantime however, they were effectively left on our side of the portal as the last line of defence, should the necrobots attempt to use it against us.

The portal thankfully had no obviously adverse effects. At least none that I could detect in the short term. I ran some quick diagnostics beforehand to ensure that the portal wasn’t only keyed to necrobot signatures and wouldn’t blast us with lethal amounts of radiation on contact, but my analysis was hardly thorough enough for me to actually be confident in the portal’s safety. I’d have to do a full medical exam on everyone once we returned, but at least I didn’t detect any anomalies in the moment, which meant we could proceed to any number of the other highly dangerous aspects of the facility.

The portal room was connected to the winding main hallway, with one side passage to the south. We opted to take this southern route, which led to a four way corridor. The door, along with every other door we found in the facility, functioned off of a unique form of detection that more closely resembled magic than pure technology. This made it very difficult to decipher even with our collective technical expertise. Fortunately, Yaro’s powerful spiritual attunement made it relatively easy for him to seize and control the mechanism.

We already knew from our scouting that the eastern door was the command console room, and the room to the south was one of the dormant necrobot chambers. Meved made the call to investigate the room on the left, so as to remove any unknown variables. In there, we found what could best be described as a substation for the facility’s power. It had some similarities to the Dolmen Stone device from the pyramid ship, but seemed to be drawing its energy from another portion of the facility rather than a stone. It was likely the generator to the north that we saw during our scouting run.

While there was nothing we could do to subtly sabotage the engine, we observed that a sufficiently large explosive payload might be enough to detonate it. Based on my chemical composition readings, doing so would produce an explosion that would rival a nuclear warhead. I suppose if nothing else, it could be a last resort to eliminate this structure if things go especially badly, though on principle I dislike the idea of such an indiscriminate attack.

We continued our investigation to the south, checking on the room with the dormant necrobots. Fearing that we might encounter a guard bot that would activate some sort of wakeup protocol, I sent out an Unseen Servant to scout ahead and inform us if there were any active necrobots in the room ahead. The thought of using that spell for such a purpose only came to me in the moment, but it proved very useful as a simple form of scouting.

The dormant necrobots were indeed still dormant and lacking in any guards. I suppose they really never expected any enemy force to get this far. The tactically sound thing to do might have been to eliminate all of them in that moment, though that seemed both unethical and risky, as there was no telling what might activate the remaining soldiers. In such a small room, it surely would have been quite a mess. Instead, Meved and Yaro sabotaged the doors exiting the room, buying us some time should reinforcements ever be called after us.

That only left the eastern exit of the junction, and the one we knew to have active necrobots patrolling. When we lost our drone, one of the lynchguards was still in there, operating the command console. There was no guarantee that it had returned to its original post in the time we had geared up. That was besides the other soldiers and swarms we saw in that room as well. When I sent my Servant spell through, it recognised three bipedal necrobots as well as the presence of swarms, which confirmed my fears. Still, sooner or later we would have to face the necrobots in this facility, so we pushed in.

The more exact count in the room was one lynchguard, two guardians (similar to the ones we found protecting the Dolmen Stone), and two swarms of scarabs. Meved, Yaro, and Vinu took the vanguard while Tibbers and I remained in the backline.

Recognising the lynchguard to likely be the biggest threat, I attempted to repeat my Hold Person spell on them, but it was regrettably unsuccessful this time. Meved and Yaro held the line, first with their area of effect weapons and then in melee once the swarms closed in. Vinu meanwhile pushed in to flank one of the guardians, keeping it distracted.

Due to the positioning of the necrobots, Tibbers and I were confined to the corridor, unable to push into the larger room without coming dangerously close to the lynchguard. That was not an issue, as I was still able to provide fire support and run interference from my position. I suppose intervening in one of the lynchguard’s strikes made me worthy of its ire, as it called in a wraith to attack me immediately afterwards.

Tibbers and I were too preoccupied with the wraith to witness much of the conflict ourselves. All I saw was the lynchguard swing an impressive blow, the sound of Yaro’s whimper, followed by the lynchguard’s decapitated head rolling into sight and the sound of Yaro’s disintegrator cannon unloading on what I assumed to be its body. Perhaps it’s for the best that I did not witness the situation, as seeing Yaro injured still affects me far more than any threat to my own life.

For our part, Tibbers and I were attempting to back up into the engine room, unable to get a good route around the wraith. My intention was to lure the assassin to me and give Tibbers an opening to get past and regroup while I would use my glitch step to follow afterwards. The ended up being unnecessary, as the combination of my and Tibbers’ gunfire was eventually enough to put the wraith down, though not without serious effort.

Tibbers punctuated the encounter by firing Vivian a few more times into the corpse. I initially assumed it to be a precaution against any regeneration protocol, but after the third round it became clear that it was a form of stress relief after having to fight yet another “ghost”. My own psyche was fragile enough that I asked to borrow Vivian and took a “stress relief” shot as well. I hate to admit it, but the catharsis was palpable. It’s certainly not something I will be doing again moving forward, but I can certainly sympathise with Tibbers’ coping mechanism.

Our group of seemingly miscellaneous individuals have come as far as we have because we all elevate each other’s strengths and compensate for each other’s weaknesses, making the Everdawn’s crew far more than the sum of its parts. That’s as true in combat situations as it is outside of it. For instance here, where engineering was our main focus, the less technically adept Yaro supported us by seeing to our physical needs by way of providing food, coffee, and the joy that comes with witnessing your fluffy canid partner dressed in a colourful apron.

This information is perhaps superfluous, but I find myself needing to reiterate the importance of appreciating our diverse collaboration. The disparate nature of our capabilities and even mindsets may at times put us at odds with each other, but it is this factor is perhaps the greatest fundamental differentiator between us and the necrobots. It allows our galactic community to constantly evolve and challenge itself, finding new ways to subvert the limitations we encounter.

Despite all my fears regarding the necrobots, I still feel a certain confidence in this idea. They are clearly exceedingly intelligent and powerful, but over the course of studying them I cannot help but find a certain rigidness there. An intellectual rigor mortis, if you will. They all seem so confident in their established methods that they seem unable to account for something that challenges their base assumptions. Their code, once decyphered, is consistent, making it easy to reliably subvert, be that with hybrid technomancy, mysticism, acrobatic excellence, or a genetically mutated ursine with a pointy stick.

Still, for all of our progress, the necrobots still have a massive lead on us, which cannot be dismissed. The drone operation would be our first real foray into pure necrobot territory, so the stakes were high. We were unlikely to get a second chance to learn anything if we were detected, and that was to say nothing of the risk of drawing attention to us. So far, the necrobots have always had the informational advantage. This was a chance to close as much of that gap as we could before they become aware of us.

A few intensive optimisation passes and rigorous diagnostics later, we had a working spy drone. Tibbers was given piloting duty, while I processed the information feed. The others stood ready to support or respond should anything exit the portal. With all of us stationed there, the room which a few days prior housed a bunch of corpses now felt like a genuine command center.

Entry through the portal occurred without incident. The portal’s composition didn’t indicate any sort of energy readings that would suggest it to be dangerous, though I would need to do a more thorough examination before declaring it safe for use by a non-necrobot being. As for the destination, I had hoped that the GPS system we integrated into the drone might provide us with some coordinates, but the data was either garbled or too complex to interpret. It’s far from the first time necrobots have eluded standard measurement systems though, so I believe I may be able to solve that mystery with enough time.

The destination on the other side of the door, as best we could determine, seemed to be an operational post of sorts. The architecture was in line with necrobot structures we’ve seen, though clearly ancient in its construction. From a window in the building, we got a small glimpse of the outside. The area was vast and heavily constructed, equivalent to a metropolitan cityscape, though less populated than one might expect from such a scale. The best comparison I could draw would be that it was something like a cross between an Aballonian and Eoxian city, clearly designed for synthetic sensibilities, but with strong necromantic influences. As with many other elements of the necrobots, the landscape bears aesthetic similarities to the Osiriani of ancient Golarion, albeit in a more grim, dark, and cybernetic form. Perhaps there is a history between these cultures that was lost in the Gap, though I found no suggestion of such a link in my prior research.

One detail that seemed especially noteworthy was the sky. I had hoped to get some data on the atmosphere or astronomical profile of the location, but when we observed the sky, we could find no identifiable elements at all. My current hypothesis is that the segment we were viewing had a ceiling or other interference that masked the true sky. The sheer scale that implies is daunting to say the least, but I’m still hoping that to be the case, as the implications of the necrobots simply living under a starless sky is far more troubling…

My reasoning for giving the operational post its classification is derived from its personnel and scale. In my estimation, the structure seemed too small and lacking in features to be a major command centre, but still had enough presence to suggest its use as a strategic point for military action. The facility was patrolled by several active soldiers, and two rooms featured platoons of dormant ones. Granted, there is a possibility that these were non-combatants, but given what we’ve observed thus far, I cannot be entirely certain that the concept of civilians even exists in necrobot culture.

Besides the soldiers, we also found a room with a massive collection of scarab drones, seemingly relegated to a run down corner of the building. The way the necrobots leave these drones to seemingly operate on their own whims remains odd to me, but it served us well for our scouting mission. The service tunnels incorporated into necrobot architecture made it easy for our drone to traverse the facility without being too conspicuous. Well, mostly; our luck did eventually run out, but not before making a few more discoveries.

In keeping with the insectoid themes of necrobot constructs, the one entirely new creature we spotted during our exploration was an immense robotic centipede. We didn’t determine its purpose at the time, though its obvious weaponry suggested that it would be capable of combat, if not designed explicitly for it. That is an encounter I sincerely hope will never come to pass, though by this point I’m convinced it will be an inevitability…

In terms of structural features, we observed a few other interesting details. One room boasted a large power unit, similar to the one in the pyramid ship, but lacking a Dolmen Stone. Even so, the power output from this device was well beyond what we might expect from technology of that scale, though not beyond the standards I’ve come to expect from the necrobots. I’m certain my fellow TAs at the Arcanamirium would balk at the revised scales I use for necrobot-related calculations. I still have a hard time fathoming them myself…

Past the power unit, we spotted a room with cultural indications suggesting ceremonial import. At the focal point of the chamber was a sarcophagus, bearing the symbol I’ve come to believe is the coat of arms of the “Khalfani Dynasty”. We were unable to approach enough for me to get a proper reading of what the sarcophagus contained or otherwise what its purpose serves, though I would guess that it’s not something we would find desirable.

The sarcophagus was under heavy protection, and it was ultimately the two lynchguards standing at the base of the sarcophagus that noticed our drone’s unusual behaviour. One of the guards left their post to visit a command console we had also noticed earlier and operated it. The interaction was too rapid for me to fully interpret, but from what I could tell it seemed like it was searching through a database of scarab drones. It must have found the instance for our aberrant drone and deactivated it, as our feed died immediately afterwards.

It was not clear if this action meant the necrobots were aware of our infiltration, or simply believed the drone to be malfunctioning, but if nothing else our scouting mission did result in quite a bit of information being gained. We uncovered most of the facility’s layout and defences, along with what might be a couple points of interest in the forms of the sarcophagus and the command console…

Of course, a few minutes of video footage were never going to be a satisfactory amount of data. It became increasingly clear to all of us by the time the scarab was destroyed that we would need to go into the portal and investigate ourselves.

Likely as a consequence of this, I found myself being somewhat out of sorts. I even experienced the phenomenon of temporal distortion once again. If feels as though months have passed in a single day. I know that to be objectively incorrect, but I cannot reconcile reality with how I feel. As such, I cannot wholly vouch for the complete accuracy of my personal records at this time. However, note that any of the official transcriptions provided came from our real-time recording software. In the event of any discrepancies, know that the raw transcriptions should be correct, barring any tampering. I could not abide if my own cognitive impairment mischaracterised the truth.

As for what transpired, our day began with a second trip into the now effectively dormant necrobot vessel. The last room we had not yet investigated was the one in the centre of the structure. As we predicted, it was the bridge, or at least the closest necrobot equivalent. The ceremonial architecture and decor made it almost seem more like a dais or altar of some sort, complete with ritualistic-like imagery depicting what appeared to be a representation of a necrobot social or military hierarchy. I made certain to record footage of these depictions to cross-reference them with profile data we’ve already recorded. Perhaps we could use them to craft a more complete picture of the beings we’re in conflict with.

My decryption skills alone were insufficient to learn anything from the vessel’s command terminals or other interfaces. However, Tibbers used his own tech and piloting expertise to directly connect to the pilot’s chair, and with his assistance I was able to convert the data into something usable. His exosuit made the attempt viable, though it’s Tibber’s bravery and selflessness that pushed him to take action at great personal risk. Despite the concerns I’ve expressed for his psychological wellbeing after everything he went through yesterday, he performed admirably. We were fortunate to have him with us.

The information we collected was limited, but raises several very interesting and perhaps critical questions. From a ship status report, we learned that the “Eternity Gate” and “Tomb Mind” were offline, but that the “Tomb Gate” was online. We cannot be certain of the exact meaning of these terms, though it would be reasonable to assume that the Tomb Gate is the portal we found, as it was just about the only thing still functioning after we removed the Dolmen Stone. The other two components remain unknown, though if I were to offer an educated guess, I would hypothesise that the Tomb Mind refers to the vessel’s central computing systems, while the Eternity Gate refers to its primary weapons. I reiterate however that this is speculation on my part. Further study will be needed to determine just what this terminology actually means in context, besides sounding vaguely ominous.

In addition to ship status reports, we were also able to pull up coordinate information. The means by which necrobots calculate positions naturally did not conform to the Pact World standards, so we attempted to gather as many reference points to compare against. Hopefully, the encrypted coordinate data from the ship will be easier to decipher when compared directly against known locations. We know, if nothing else, that the necrobots have at least some awareness of our galactic geography, despite not residing anywhere near the Pact Worlds themselves.

Unfortunately, there was little else we could retrieve from the cockpit terminal. I would not be surprised if relevant data was automatically purged to avoid its seizure, much like how the necrobots decompose themselves to avoid capture and study. If that is indeed the case, then there may be a way to recover some of the deleted data, though I believe we are still far from being able to achieve a feat like that.

Alternatively, it could be that the necrobots do not keep secure data on their vessels. The highly advanced nature of necrobot technology would theoretically make it more efficient to maintain a hierarchical data structure where individual units are given only the most direct instructions while a centralised command system compiles data from all sources and controls tactical decision-making. This sort of system is common among collectives, but is usually limited by lag time in communication and the vulnerability of the central system to direct attacks. The necrobots could very well have overcome both of those weaknesses.

Still, all of this is just conjecture. As it stands, we simply do not have more data.

Refocusing on what we do have, our team returned to the medbay to investigate it further. Our previous visit had us pass through it only briefly to clear the ship of any lingering units. We confirmed that the necrobots within the medbay’s tanks were still inactive. We also noted a pool of necrobot epidermis at the base of the tanks (what my correspondents have taken to calling “necrodermis”, though I would not be surprised if such a term conflicted with some Eoxean copyrights). The quality of the samples is still quite excellent, so I believe we’ve effectively secured a viable collection of samples. I admit to some reservations at using injured sapients as test subjects, but under the circumstances I cannot argue with the tactical necessity of such actions.

That more or less encapsulated our second excursion. It was fairly brief and without incident, with most of our attention focused on collecting as much data as possible and translating it for our ongoing necrobot database.

We would later discuss revisiting our plan of bringing the vessel back into proximity of the Pact Worlds. Soryn’s concerns remain valid: even if we select somewhere that is relatively remote, there is a very real chance of us giving the necrobots a backdoor into Pact Worlds territory, something we simply cannot afford if the necrobots remain as hostile as they have.

This brought us back to another solution we discussed previously, that of sending a scout into the active gate before moving the vessel out of the Drift. It’s not an unreasonable idea. After all, our biggest apprehension was the risk of alerting the necrobots that their gate is compromised. However, this would likely happen sooner or later, so doing it while we remained in the comparative anonymity of the Drift would put only us in serious danger. Compared to endangering the entire system, that’s definitely the safer call.

The question that remains is what to send through. One approach would be for our team to go, just as we did into the vessel. It would likely be the single most dangerous thing any of us has ever done, but it’s not exactly like we’re strangers to putting ourselves in dangerous positions. Still, I personally find the idea somehow less appealing than our infiltration of Vanguard Station. At least there we had a fairly good idea of what we would find inside and how to deal with it. Despite all our encounters and studies, we’ve still only just scratched the surface with the necrobots by comparison, and everything we’ve seen so far suggests that we would not enjoy what we find if we go deeper.

We ultimately concluded that it would make more sense to send a drone through, to effectively act as a scouting probe. Between Tibbers’ remote piloting skills and my familiarity with adapting the quantum energies used by the necrobots, we might be able to keep the drone functional through the portal. If so, then we might be the very first members of Pact space to see the necrobot homeworld.

The Lynchguard demonstrated signs of linguistic comprehension at my words, even if they were spoken in Pact World Common. I am unsure if they have language synthesisers, or if they simply know Common, but refuse to speak it. That alone raises many questions, though the Lynchguard made it abundantly clear that it would not be the one to answer them.

Rather, the Lynchguard’s response, as with all other necrobots we’ve encountered thus far, expressed no desire for a mutual exchange of information. Its exact words were “Does the thresher parley with the wheat it sows?” followed by “The awakening has come and we will retake what is ours.” No further statements were made before combat ensued.

These statements highlight a few important details that I believe we can use to significantly further our understanding of the necrobots. I’ve recorded and transcribed the exact wording in the necrobot language, so as not to leave linguists with only interpreted data. I will also include my personal speculations.

Referring to us as wheat being sown suggests the necrobots are familiar with agricultural practices deeply enough to make metaphors about it, either from their own culture, or from studying us or some other organic culture. In either case, the necrobots are not unfamiliar with organic life. I also believe the Lynchguard was fully intending to convey what it believes to be the social dynamic between necrobots and our kind. In their eyes, we are essentially a material resource, rather than sapient beings. The state of the “harvested” corpses would be consistent with classification as chattel.

Othering is a common practice, especially among imperialist cultures. It allows soldiers and citizens to readily accept terrible mistreatment of foreign individuals in perceived service to the state. It’s a practice I personally find reprehensible, but with enough precedent to see a rationale in necrobot behaviour so far. They may well consider us to be barbarians occupying space and resources they wish to conquer for themselves.

This leads to the comment about “awakening” and “retaking what is ours”. The implication is that the necrobots were previously active, went dormant, reactivated, and now seek to control what was once their domain. Is it possible that before the Gap, the necrobots were a ruling species among the Pact Worlds? It’s not entirely impossible. There is a great deal we don’t know about the Gap and what came before it. The Elorituan experiment corroborated the idea of a dormant phase.

On the subject of the Stone’s effects, I also noticed an increase in my physical abilities while holding it. I was able to carry the Lynchguard’s body to the shuttle largely unaided, a feat I definitely would not have been able to accomplish under normal circumstances. Though admittedly, this could also be explained by the increased flow of adrenaline in my body.

Given our own beleaguered states and Tibber’s increasing hysteria, we decided to leave immediately rather than explore the last remaining room of the vessel (which covered the upper portion of the pyramid structure). With the intact Dolmen Stone and two largely intact necrobot bodies to bring back with us, we had already found more than enough to consider the outing a success. That being said, we agreed to return to finish the investigation later.

Once back on the Everdawn, Meved transported the necrobot chassis to the laboratory for eventual inspection. I had succumbed to exhaustion while in the shuttle, so Yaro returned me to my quarters (despite my protests). Nevertheless, we both found ourselves rushing to the laboratory soon after. While Meved was dismantling the Lynchguard, it reanimated, presumably due to its regeneration protocol. My auto-dematerialisation countermeasures may have been too effective after all.

There was a brief panic, but we were able to once again deactivate the specimen, and this time I saw to the dismantling personally. The Dolmen Stone’s effects, or adrenaline, or something else may have still been lingering within me, because despite my beleaguered and rushed state, my harrying fire had remarkably managed to be effective while not damaging a single sample within the laboratory, and the dismantling went exceedingly smoothly. A very welcome surprise, to be sure.

I’ve previously written about the psychological impact this mission had on Tibbers. I fear that without processing his trauma through healthy mechanisms, he may engage in increasingly self-destructive behaviour that could endanger himself and the crew. For the time being, he was placed in the medical bay for detoxification, and I’ve scheduled us to go through regular therapy sessions. Hopefully, I can help him back to being at least manageably unstable.

After a very brief respite, Vari-13 called a ship-wide meeting to debrief on the mission and our findings. A rather heated disagreement broke out over what to do with the necrobot pyramid ship. Vari’s initial suggestion was to bring it to Absalom Station for study, which Soryn and myself both strongly opposed. The risks of bringing a vessel like this, let alone one with a still-working portal to necrobot-controlled space, were far too high. Soryn nearly came to blows, but fortunately we managed to diffuse the situation.

The final plan requires a great deal of funding, but Vari seemed satisfied acquiescing to proper safety protocols. It can be easy to forget that they are actually quite reasonable and logical, and they are not lacking in empathy nor respect for our respective expertises either. However, they do have an extraordinary skill for phrasing their initial statements in the most inflammatory manner possible, a trait which frequently puts them at odds with Soryn.

Such disagreements are understandable. Soryn is concerned with the safety of the Pact Worlds, while Vari is concerned with progress. For society to thrive, both of these impulses must work in collaboration with each other, and it is unwise to completely neglect one side of the balance in pursuit of the other. Vari’s pursuits and support are ultimately the reason we know as much about the necrobots as we do, and without their ancestor’s research, we might have found ourselves completely unprepared for the threat of the necrobots in the first place. Their contributions in that respect shouldn’t be understated. I just wish they phrased their thoughts a bit more diplomatically…

The first of these was a pile of corpses in the northern section of the room. The dead bodies themselves were hardly a surprise, given what we knew about the Devourer cultist expedition. What was noteworthy however was the state of the bodies. A quick diagnostic check performed by Yaro and myself determined that the corpses had unusually low yields of several essential minerals. For instance, the minuscule amounts of remaining blood had only trace amounts of iron. It led us to conclude that somehow, the necrobots were harvesting the metals from these bodies. It’s a pragmatic means of recycling, albeit a very disturbing one.

I might have wondered if such resource collection was part of the necrobot’s goals, but that would be incongruous with their methods elsewhere. My best hypothesis at this time is that this particular instance of harvesting was to make up for them being adrift. Still, to have the means to extract minerals in such a way would imply that this is something they’ve done before… It’s an avenue of thought that I’d rather not pursue, despite my morbid curiosity.

The second noteworthy feature of the room was the large gateway that occupied the southwest corner. The structure seemed very similar to that of the elven aiudara (what is conventionally known in the Pact Worlds as “Elf Gates”). However, just as the aiudara have eluded our academic understanding since before the Gap, I lack the means to fully comprehend this portal. I nevertheless documented what I could from my analysis and have included them in my records for future study.

That being said, I was still able to determine some information. The nature of the energy it exuded was unmistakably that of the mysterious power used by the necrobots, and given the emission patterns of that energy it seemed likely that the other side of the portal was a fixed location containing immense amounts of it. The closest comparison I can make would be to say it was equivalent to a portal to the negative energy plane. I would hazard a guess that the destination of the portal was to whatever world or plane the necrobots are natively from.

Given that information, I advised against us entering or in any way interacting with the portal. While I would have preferred to deactivate it, I doubt that I had the tools or understanding to do so safely, and a more rudimentary dismantling seemed too risky to attempt. As such, we left it alone, and hoped that in doing so, we would not be “kicking a hornet’s nest”, as the human expression goes.

The room we encountered next was a little different from the previous ones, in that it had glowing markings on the doors. I recognised these from our previous encounters as being the symbol that the necrobots used to represent themselves or their leadership. Further inspection confirmed them to be trapped in some way. Up until now, none of the rooms have had any security measures beyond the necrobots within to guard them, so this naturally suggested a high level of importance.

We pivoted to the smaller door in the eastern corridor for our approach, and I set up a siphoning program to divert the energy embedded in the rune harmlessly. My understanding of necrobot technology may be insufficient for their more complex mechanisms, but weapons and traps at least I’ve managed to decipher well enough. A few minutes later, we were able to open the room and discover what the necrobots thought valuable enough to keep warded off.

Even if my translation program were not active or the guardians within had not stated their warning of our trespass, the structure that occupied the sealed room was unmistakable. After all, I had overseen the engineering reports for the dismantling and reconstruction of the Enigma Core, and perhaps barring a few less than forthcoming followers of Eloritu, I was at the time (and to my knowledge still am) the foremost researcher on the so-called “Dolmen Stone”. Admittedly, that is not so much an indication of my pedigree as it is a testament to this device’s obscurity, but the fact remains the same: the device within that chamber was almost certainly the pyramid ship’s primary source of energy, something that could rival if not outclass any sort of power supply the Pact World’s foremost civilizations could muster.

Much as I would have loved to have stopped everything then and there to study this marvel, we still had the matter of its guardians. The room held two advanced soldiers and two more humanoid necrobots equipped with what seemed to be a handgun paired with an energy blade. Their slightly more ceremonial appearance correlated with common traditions of designated bodyguards for high value targets, and their equipment was clearly designed to permit them greater mobility in close quarters, which was fitting given the enclosed space. Fortunately for us, Meved was more than large enough to bottleneck the doorway, meaning they couldn’t approach us directly without either going through our ursine frontline or taking a route around. Having come to that conclusion, I suggested that Tibbers hold our flank in the northern corridor to prevent that possibility.

At first, our strategy was proving effective. For all of the necrobots’ combat prowess, Meved’s advanced mutations have made him quite resilient in the face of their aggression. This was bolstered by Vinu’s impressive ability to “dropshot” our foes through the limited sightlines of the obstructed doorway. Prior to this ordeal, I would never have expected the splits to be a tactical combat manoeuvre, but given the shot’s effectiveness, perhaps my understanding of martial tactics is simply lacking. I am a scientist after all, not a combat specialist.

That fact became painfully apparent when our advantageous configuration was violently dismantled by the appearance of another wraith-type necrobot (the same kind that ambushed Vinu in the scarab charging room). This time, I was the unfortunate recipient of a particularly vicious strike. Even with all of my gained experience, the attack winded me, and it was evident that I would likely not be able to withstand another hit from this creature.

Naturally, being in the immediate vicinity of a highly lethal ghost-like robot forced us to reevaluate our tactical positioning and target prioritisation. Meved continued to focus on holding the guardian and soldiers in the room at bay while the rest of us focused on the wraith and the other guardian, which had come from the northern door to flank us as anticipated. We were effectively surrounded, with Meved to the west, Tibbers and Vinu to the north, and Yaro and I to the south. It was a mercy that no reinforcements came from the eastern door (where the corpses and portal were located), or we would have been in an extremely dire situation.

That is not to say this situation was not dire. In fact, our positioning meant that Yaro and I, while protected by direct fire from the Dolmen Stone room by Meved, were still in the range of arcing weapons. The necrobots apparently realised this, and blasted us with their arc guns. The nature of the weapon made it incredibly dangerous in such a closed space, resulting in one charge striking each of us multiple times. Had Yaro not preemptively used his magic to shield me, it may have been enough to incapacitate me right then and there.

In retrospect, that arcing strike was probably the turning point of the fight. The damage Meved, Yaro, and I incurred spurred Yaro to use his healing magic to restore us. The necrobots are a highly intelligent and ruthlessly logical species, meaning that they immediately realised the tactical value of our combat medic. The flanking guardian and the wraith reprioritised to try to eliminate our most crucial asset as swiftly as possible.

In my previous log, I mentioned the merits of just such a strategy, but pointed out that the targeting of medical personnel goes against Pact World military conventions. Given the reaction of the necrobots, it was made abundantly clear that they have no such conventions, or at the very least did not apply them to us. There was no hesitation in their instructions, and my live translation protocol left no room for error: oppositional forces with healing magic were priority targets. I mention this so that any Pact World military forces that might come across a necrobot force in the future are made aware and are given the opportunity to revise their strategies. We cannot assume that the necrobots share our morals or have any notion of “humane” treatment of their adversaries. As of yet, I have seen no mention of the concept of “mercy” in their lexicon, and I am beginning to doubt that they have one.

Though I am trying my best to remain composed as I write this, the situation that occurred during this encounter left me shaken. Tactical importance aside, Yaro is my romantic partner and a deeply valued companion. I have already seen him face a near-death experience once before at Khefak Depot, under conditions not all that dissimilar to these. Though I had largely managed to process that trauma, the sight of Yaro so severely injured brought those memories back. Had I not taken extensive measures to prepare myself to maintain composure in exactly this sort of situation… If I had slightly fewer resources at my disposal…

Well, it would not be productive for me to dwell on such a hypothetical.

My reactions were largely the product of adrenaline and conditioning. Were it not for the recorded footage from my bodycam and the accounts of my companions, I doubt that I could have recalled what occurred next.

By the time Yaro had been wounded, Meved had killed a guardian and made some ingress into the Dolmen room, leaving a gap for us to enter from. I took the opportunity, taking position in the doorway and using a biomechanical symbiosis program to jolt Yaro’s adrenal system. It wasn’t much, but it would allow Yaro a small window with which to pull back into the room with Meved while I covered his escape. Though I was still slightly injured, Yaro’s earlier healing and protective magic would ensure that I could at least do that much, giving him some much needed time to recover. At worst, he would probably be able to save me in turn from his safer position. If I am honest with myself however, I don’t believe I was making such rationalisations in the moment. My only thought was that Yaro needed to be safe.

With Yaro in a more secure position, my next priority was ensuring that the guardian and wraith did not pursue. I targeted the guardian with a “hold” protocol which I had recently adapted into my repertoire from some older arcane formulations. The necrobot put up a heavy resistance, but I supplemented as many power enhancers as I could muster to see it through, which fortunately was just enough to make the difference. With the guardian held in place, Tibbers, whose aim had been severely lacking throughout the encounter (possibly a symptom of his recent traumatic incidents), was able to land a direct hit, and Vinu was able to finish it off. For posterity, I used my tether program to preserve the body and its weaponry.

As expected, the wraith did attempt to pursue, opting to go through me. I did my utmost to physically block its path. I believe it did manage to land another blow, but I remained standing. My own fight or flight response must have allowed me to endure despite my clear disadvantage. Thinking back on it, it’s a humbling demonstration of the power of one’s instinctive biological programming. However, that hindsight also makes me wonder why I chose to target the guardian. Couldn’t the wraith have simply passed through the adjacent wall to pursue Yaro, rendering my positioning pointless? Perhaps at the time there was a logical reasoning behind my exact actions, but my memory is too addled to recollect it.

While this entire ordeal was occurring, Meved was single handedly fighting the two remaining soldiers in the Dolmen room. Our ursine enforcer has always been a fearsome combattant, but with his ever advancing robotic mutations I’ve almost come to take for granted that he is almost unstoppable. I should emphasise “almost”, because he is by no means immortal. One of the soldiers actually did manage to land several wounding strikes on Meved despite the latter’s defences, and while it wasn’t doing much damage, it was doing some. Meved would ultimately win the battle of attrition, but not without a noticeable cost to his stamina.

Meved had managed to take out one of the two soldiers by the time I retreated from the wraith to regroup with him. Yaro had recovered a bit by then and had taken a safer position further into the room, so my rather frail shield was no longer necessary. The wraith pursued, but Meved ended that threat in a single swipe, whereas the final soldier was taken out by a single extraordinarily charged blast from Yaro’s disintegrator cannon. The battle was over.

We patched ourselves up, leaving us all looking as though we hadn’t just fought one of the most harrowing fights we’ve had yet. The exhausting psychological toll was unmistakable, however. Yaro and the rest of the group took a very well deserved rest immediately, though the adrenaline crash had not caught up to me just yet, so I used the remainder of my energy to inspect the Dolmen stone before resting as well.

Unlike the fragment we used to power the Everdawn, the stone in this Enigma Core was whole. The power output from the crystal was greater than just about any reading I’ve ever seen. Much like what Vari-8 speculated in his findings all those years ago, something like this could very well be used for immense societal benefits. That such an absurd amount of power would be put towards an engine of war worries and saddens me greatly. I still find myself wondering what drives the necrobots to acts of cruelty when they are blessed with such advanced technology. I hope to understand it someday, because I still struggle to rationalise all the suffering that has been inflicted… I have no desire to believe that our world is inherently cruel, as some do.

The necrobots might have used their energy for harm, but I reasoned that this did not need to be the case. We had taken and used a Dolmen stone shard before, so repurposing a whole one seemed a logical next step. With the help of our entire group, we were able to eject the stone. The effect was immediate: the entire ship fell to auxiliary power. If any of the necrobots didn’t know we were here, they would know now. However, any additional ship defences they might have used against us were now likely gone.

We saw the first example of this with the next room we inspected, this time in the south-west quadrant. The room contained several pod-like chambers, most containing necrobots in various states of disrepair. The displays and tech readings suggested that this was a repair station, analogous to our med-bays. The lack of power meant that any repair procedures had apparently halted, which was a very welcome blessing. While many of the necrobots were nowhere near full capacity, some were distressingly close. Had we not cut the power, it might have meant we’d be facing a few more combatants. While I still had enough resources left to handle one or two brief fights, every encounter dwindled those resources, and who could say if there would be enough if a major threat arose.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind that it manifested itself in reality. As we returned to the southern outer corridor of this square-based structure, we were greeted by a single necrobot. Though it obviously was different from other necrobot infantry, equipped with an axe and shield and composed of far higher grade materials than the more common soldiers we’ve faced, the truly frightening thing about it was where it was coming from. The necrobot was approaching us from the same entryway we came from. At the time, we did not know what that meant for the Everdawn or its other passengers. We had not received any hails or distress signals, so we hoped it was merely attempting to block our exit. Either way, a conflict was unavoidable.

Interestingly, the shieldbearer necrobot made a declaration as it approached. I am still so thankful that my translation program was still active to capture the message it spoke. Typical threats against us aside, it introduced itself as the “lynchguard tasked with protecting the Dolmen Stone”, and announced that it served the “Khalfani Dynasty”.

Given the translation of the word “dynasty”, it seems unlikely that the Khalfani represent the entire species, though just these words alone open up many questions regarding the social structure of the necrobots, and perhaps even their whole nature as a species.

The respite gave us time to inspect the room we found ourselves in. The exact mechanisms of the obscure device that occupied the room were unknown to me, but given its dimensions and structure, I surmised that it was likely a designated charging station for the scarab-like creatures we’ve previously fought. The device seemed to be connected to various parts of the ship by way of a network of pipes, which in my estimation are the means by which scarabs are sent to different parts of the vessel to perform maintenance. It’s a logical setup which takes full advantage of their highly mobile repair drones.

Yaro corroborated my findings with a discovery of his own. His keen canine ears picked up on buzzing sounds from the room adjacent to us (“north” of us according to my relative spatial render of the vessel), sounds which I had completely missed during my fixation on the room’s device. It remains a true blessing that I have such reliable companions with me, otherwise I would surely find myself at the mercy of countless ambushes. Quite honestly, I doubt I could survive a single ambush. I am not built for combat situations, despite repeatedly finding myself in them as of late…

We took ready positions at the door and I used some magic to open them remotely. Sure enough, what greeted us on the other side was an assortment of multiple scarab swarms and another creature we had not encountered before. The simplest way to describe the massive entity would be to liken it to a giant robotic spider. The room, based on its layout, I would have guessed to be its “nest”.

Yaro and Meved took immediate action, using their large effect radius weapons to deliver as much lethality to as much of the swarms at once. That took care of most of the swarm clusters, but still left a couple, along with the spider, and two additional footsoldiers that had been deeper in the nest room.

While the larger foes focused on Meved, the remaining scarabs ignored our frontline and instead went after the rest of us. Yaro and Tibbers had the worst of it, with some of the creatures even making it into Tibbers’ skin. The ordeal was traumatising to witness, let alone actually endure, which compounded with his prior psychological scars from the earlier phasing necrobots (which I’ve decided to designate as “wraiths” for ease of documentation). Given that, his attempts to flee were understandable. I will almost certainly need to conduct routine psychological evaluations for the poor man after this mission…

We eventually took down the smaller hostiles, leaving us with just the spider. Throughout the fight, the spider managed to restore the necrobot soldiers, even from apparent death, and generated more scarabs as well. It would be reasonable to conclude that this was some sort of support drone, almost like a scarab carrier vessel.

For any military personnel that might be reviewing these records, I recommend focusing on these spider entities first, as our failure to do so likely significantly prolonged our fight and cost us in time and resources. While I recognise that the explicit targeting of medical personnel is both unethical and in breach of several conventions, I feel it relevant to point out that during my diagnostics, I detected no indications of sapience from the creature. To the best of my knowledge, the spider was a drone operating off of standard routines, not a living being. If at any point we should find evidence to the contrary, I will naturally revisit my recommendation in accordance with galactic laws of warfare and my own ethical code.

This being said, the spider’s ability to restore the necrobots did appear to have a limit. A more thorough assessment would be required, but based on the data collected, the spider did not seem able to heal the soldiers more than a few times before it showed signs of depletion. I remain at this time uncertain of exactly how its resources are managed, but recommend that anyone unfortunate enough to encounter one try to keep track. It could be vital information.

In our case, Tibbers managed to land one final blow on the spider to destroy it, but not before it released one more swarm of scarabs… Which immediately went after Tibbers. I find myself wondering if that was purely a case of the drones choosing to target the one that destroyed their carrier, or if Tibbers has some sort of innate property that makes him more attractive to them. At least this time, Yaro was able to wipe out the swarm before they could do any serious damage to anything other than Tibbers’ sense of dignity.

Nevertheless, the patron of first blood was a suitable spectator for the arrival of our agents.

Now, I could certainly provide a detailed recounting of the battles that ensued, how each soldier of the Inheritor fought in vain and fell before our might, or how a swarm of irritating motes tried again and again in vain to protect its charges, achieving nothing save to be a mild annoyance. I could even include some quips about the dragon of Geryon’s apparent contempt for stairs, opting instead to simply bore through the floors…

I could do all this, but I will not. The simple fact of the matter is, ascending the “tree of Nessus” was child’s play for Hell’s chosen. Maraya, the foolish brijidine, thought amassing some feeble footsoldiers and an overenthusiastic pile of window shards would be enough to so much as slow them down.

Well, that is not entirely true. Maraya knew what was coming and did try desperately to relay a warning to her masters. It’s a pity they never saw fit to send her the reinforcements she requested. How utterly unfortunate for her to suffer such a simple miscommunication…

Dear reader, I do hope you’ve caught on to the sarcasm in my words. Naturally, this was my doing.

You would think followers of a war goddess would better secure their logistics from tampering. Then again, these are the same followers that allowed the likes of an azata into their ranks, so their grasp of structure and security was already questionable at best. I can hardly take credit for sabotage when my opponents are so woefully inept. I still will, of course, but it’s a meagre accomplishment.

Maraya herself was ever so moderately more challenging than the rest of her fodder. Truly, the sole reason for that was the gift she had received from her deific patrons. Were the brijidine’s flames not bolstered with divine force, it would have been a farce to pit her against Hell’s champions. Nevertheless, even with such a gift she was humbled swiftly. Surely, she should have expected a dragon like Arcatraz to attempt to seize her and prepare some countermeasure. Or at least, a countermeasure that had not already been assassinated near the beginning of the fight. How pitiful it was, to spend her last moments being devoured, unable to flee and with her divine boon severed.

A fitting end for one of Elysium’s vagrants. Good riddance.

In the process of liberating Lord Asmodeus’ place of worship, our agents also had the good fortune of rescuing Westcrown’s High Priest, one Jarvaxus Garestic. I’m rather fond of the mortal myself. All the acumen that his father squandered was put to good use in his son by having him serve us directly. He has enough intelligence to act with only minimal guidance, unlike my dear pet, but nevertheless knows his place well enough not to overstep, unlike so many of the “faithful” in the service of our Lord. It was a stroke of wisdom to place him in Westcrown, where he could be truly useful in organising our seizure of Aroden’s last bastion. In that, he has played his part adequately. No doubt his promise would have swiftly eroded in Egorian’s courts. We have ample sycophants as it is.

Dear reader, I wish to convey how deeply pleased I am with our accomplishment. As you can surely surmise, the Pentagram Ritual was a success, and so it was that on this, the Dies Irae 110 years after the death of the mortal god Aroden, Westcrown was given over to a new master.

That expectation was proven out almost immediately. Meved hardly got his paws through the door before a group of undead robot soldiers started firing upon him. Fortunately Meved, being what he is, wasn’t affected enough for this to be an immediate problem. He pushed in to fight, and the rest of us filed in after him.

During the encounter, the necrobots spoke in their language. In fact, it was perhaps the most I’ve heard them speak thus far. I activated my interpretation spell as quickly as I could, hoping that their words might hint to some avenue of diplomatic recourse. Unfortunately, the soldier’s speech amounted to little more than assertions that they would destroy or dominate us all. A disappointing outcome, but still useful. I took note of the words to add to my growing lexicon. We’re still far from deciphering the necrobot language, but every little snippet helps. I just wish I could learn their words for “peace” or “diplomacy”...

We finished our first encounter without too much trouble, all things considered. I am still uncertain if it’s because the necrobots were weakened by the damage inflicted on their ship, or because our recent experiences have made us more effective combatants, but they seemed less fearsome than they had in the past. It’s still a far cry from anything approaching pleasant, but the notion of fighting them is ever so slightly less terrifying than it once was…

Of course, given how these situations typically play out, I fully expect some new surprise to thoroughly dash that impression of mine very shortly.

Noticing that we hadn’t been immediately set upon by additional waves of security forces, we opted to take a moment to catch our breath. Needing a bit less respite on account of being a less active participant in the last skirmish, I used the time to study the trails on the floor of the vessel. In total, I was able to identify 8 unique humanoid dna signatures. Presumably, they were signs of whatever was left of the Devourer cultists that attempted to scavenge the ship. The fact that there was a blood trail at all was an unsettling discovery. Up until now, the necrobots have been content to disintegrate their foes, with the exception of the necrobots that made a showing of wearing flayed skins. It feels distressing to say, but I almost hope that’s all this was. I shudder to think of what other uses the necrobots might have for humanoid tissue…

While the rest of us were preoccupied, Vinu decided to scout ahead. In theory, it was a sound plan. Vinu is a capable scout, and it would be helpful to know what we might be getting into…

Unfortunately, the element of surprise can apply to both sides of a conflict, and our arrival was not exactly discrete. While Vinu made her way into one of the adjacent rooms, she ran into two enemies that had likely noticed our arrival and prepared an ambush. Vinu for her part attempted to evade the two new necrobots, but even with her considerable acrobatic skills evading them both proved too much, and she was severely injured.

The rest of us weren’t too far, so we immediately jumped into action. Yaro retrieved Vinu to get her to safety while the rest of us took up defensive positions en engaged the assailants.

The necrobots Vinu encountered were unlike anything we had seen before. In place or torsos, these constructs had elongated spinal columns that gave them serpent-like mobility. Even more notable however was their means of phasing through solid matter. One of the pair moved through the wall on our side to flank Tibbers, much to his distress.

I was able to identify the phasing tech as being similar to that which the necrobots use to teleport, albeit in a more limited capacity. Actually, it was very similar to a more advanced version of the technology I adapted for my own “glitch step”. That knowledge ended up being critical later.

While Yaro held the front, protecting Vinu and myself, Meved held off the flanking foe. Tibbers meanwhile provided rather sporadic “covering fire” (I’ve come to discover as a result of this situation and his emotional distress after the fight that Tibbers may suffer from acute phasmophobia, though a deeper psychological evaluation will be needed before I can make a conclusive diagnosis).

After managing to assess the vulnerabilities in the phasing patterns used by these necrobots, I used my calibrations to fire the finishing blow on the flanking necrobot. Not long after, as the other one was on the verge of using its phasing tech to bypass Yaro’s shields, I interrupted it, just long enough to prevent the hit, and giving the others the necessary opening to finish it off.

Admittedly, it’s the most effective I’ve been in a fight in quite some time, perhaps ever even. I am usually perfectly content to use my skills to improve the rest of our team’s efficiency. If I had to speculate, seeing Vinu injured was a motivating factor. Seeing Yaro nearly killed back on Akiton shook me deeply. That is not something I ever wish to experience again.

The remaining points selected for the ritual were the Southrun Eddy and Founder’s Peak. Neither are sites of any particular worth beyond historic significance. All the better that they be made useful.

First, the eddy. It could best be described as Westcrown’s sewage drain. A current pulls waste from the river into a whirlpool that naturally produces an unsightly accumulation of filth. A fitting metaphor for Westcrown itself. The death of Aroden left a city-sized gaping hole, and that hole has served as a gathering point for refuse and degenerates. Were it not for its significance, I would have preferred that we strike the filthy ruined city from the map and build it anew. Alas, far as Westcrown has fallen, it was once the greatest pillar of the human god’s worship, and that gives it worth, even in its decrepit state. Provided, of course, that it is properly cleansed first.

In that respect, the Southrun Eddy is much the same. At one time, the locals made a half-hearted attempt to clean the wretched whirlpool from time to time, but it was hardly enough to deter the immigration of a pack of omox demons. Those disgusting pests saw to the last few band of cleaners, and the effort has been abandoned since. How typical of the lazy Wiscrani, to abandon a site once sacred to their ilk for something so trivial. A properly managed territory would have sent a squadron to blast those nauseating creatures out of existence. Fortunately, Hell keeps its holdings to higher standards. Rest assured, if we create a heap of waste, it is out of intent, not negligence.

As for dealing with the interlopers, there is little to be said. The dragon woman ate one (green dragons do have questionable taste, after all) and the rest were obliterated by magic or projectiles. A savvy demonologist would recognise that omoxes weaponise their noxious bile as their primary form of offence, and such a practice can very easily be denied with simple magical solutions that purify air or avoid the need to breathe entirely. As luck would have it, the priest used just such magic briefly before the fight commenced.

My favoured pet would no doubt call this a brilliant act of prescience by one guided by the great Asmodeus. The Hellspawn priest himself may think something similar. That would be ridiculous of course. Dexsius merely made use of his magic to avoid an unpleasant smell, being the petty and vain man he is and ought to be. He was fortunate enough that it perfectly countered their upcoming foe. This fight was won not by the cunning of mortals, but by the inevitability of their natures. To understand those natures, and then to place them in the correct environments to yield the ideal outcome is how our game is played. It is a game I happen to be exceptional at. Though, I will grant, my pieces give me a modest advantage. Competent minions are a rarity these days.

There was one brief interference just barely worthy of note. In search of a suitable sacrifice, the agents seized a nearby fisherman. Uncouth and unrefined as any fisher, this one, though he had a singular talent for being astoundingly dense and irritating. Simply listening to the man prattle felt as though it were sapping my intellect, even as a distant observer. The agents dispatched him before he could cause any real damage, though they botched the sacrificial ritual in the process, wasting everyone’s time and forcing them to find another candidate.

Given the circumstances, it would be reasonable to assume that such an act was some sort of sabotage. Perhaps Iomedae or one of her inane cronies was desperate enough to attempt something, since they could hardly halt the process by force. I might have expected such a ridiculous scheme from the likes of the drunkard god-pretender or that pesky overgrown insect Desna.

And yet, it was neither. Rather, the irritating fisherman was little more than a tasteless jape from the Lantern King, of all things. Why an Archfey would dare to meddle here is beyond me, though most of their behaviours are, truth be told. Even my ability to comprehend foolishness has its limits. Let those absurdist caricatures keep to their First World; they ought to have no place in proper reality.

Well, there is little to be done over such a trivial thing as this. It did nothing but delay the inevitable by an hour or so. Let us hope they make no further attempts to derail this story, or we shall all have to suffer a most tedious tangent as we remind them of their place. None of us want that, I’m sure. This story has already gone on longer than it needs to.

Speaking of, let us take a brief moment to acknowledge the fourth ritual then be on our way. Founder’s Peak is located within the olive orchards of the Arthrugge estate. The Arthrugges are a middling noble family known only for their production of luxury oil. When the crusading army arrived, they smelt trouble and promptly left for an extended stay in Isger. A reasonable course of action for pitiful mortals with only material wealth as any metric of power. The priest considered this an act of heresy and, were it not for the interference of the teacher, would have sent his subordinates to kill them, which is hilariously in character for the zealot. If I didn’t know the reason for his continued existence, I’d have to wonder how he wasn’t already quietly assassinated by the church for his complete lack of tact. As much could be said for all of these agents really. The ways in which their follies fly in the face of standard decorum do make for great entertainment. It is the only form of chaos I can abide.

Initial reaction aside, the minions did have the sense to intend to spare the orchard of any collateral damage, lest they endanger Egorian’s precious supply of olive oil. It was a pledge that makes the ensuing events all the more amusing. You see, that plan changed rather abruptly when they came across a giant ram-shaped animate bush. Being the territorial creature it was, it attacked them, and in the ensuing commotion the peasants swiftly hid in their cellar, hoping to hide from the dragon that apparently roamed onto the premises. The agents took exception to the disrespect.

Well, I suppose they mostly kept to their plan. Only a modest patch of the orchard and all of its caretakers were incinerated or corroded, and a token effort was made to compensate for the destruction. Really, the only measure of restraint was that the manor was still standing and House Arthrugge may survive with only a few ruined harvests. Most likely, our dear Queen will rationalise this as the cost of doing business and find some way to turn backlash into political clout. At times, her ability to twist things to her favour rivals that of my precious Dominus.

It’s of little import to me, of course. Egorian could stand to lose a few of its luxuries from time to time. Such scarcities serve us well. You’d be surprised how many nobles are willing to sign away a soul or two for the sake of a few high quality ingredients. Of course, it’s never their own, but it serves us all the same. Chelaxian nobles are quite generous when bartering with goods that are not their own.

In any case, that sets things up nicely for the last and most important step of the ritual. Assuming all goes well, and there is no reason it wouldn’t, Westcrown will be in our hands by the day’s end.

A few weeks ago, when travelling to Castrovel, we identified a necrobot signature in the Drift. At the time, we opted to avoid it, playing it safe. Later, I would speculate that the signature might have something to do with the records of the Failed Gate experiment that mentioned an ancient dead city in the Drift that matched necrobot descriptions. At the time, I had no reason to believe that the pyramid ship had survived O’Toole’s bombardment, much less that it would be in the Drift. Knowing this now and correlating the Devourer cultist salvage mission with the necrobot signature’s coordinates, it would track that these would match.

All that to say that we’ve effectively solved two mysteries: the location of the pyramid, and what lies at that lingering signature. It doesn’t exactly make the prospect of investigating it any less terrifying, but at the very least it means we are likely dealing with only an isolated vessel, rather than something more severe. At least, I sincerely hope that’s the case.

After reporting the findings to the others, we decided that it would be best for everyone if after our stop into Bulwark, we investigated the pyramid and neutralised any remaining necrobots before they have a chance to hurt anyone else. If we could communicate or learn something more about them, that would be ideal, since our understanding of this enigmatic species is still limited at best. The necrobots have shown themselves to be intelligent, advanced, and ruthless, so any means to deter further aggressive actions from them would be worth pursuing. I’ve done some research to help with that, which I’ll disclose later.

Seeing Bulwark again was a welcome change. Our encounter with the Devourer cult may have been brief, but I feel like even after numerous ablutions the stench of death and cruelty still lingers. It may not have been as horrific as the worst depictions I’ve seen, but that’s a very low bar, and holovid gore is never quite the same as seeing it in person. Stepping onto the heavenly island by comparison felt like the first time in a while that I was truly safe, mild discomfort from the lawful planar energies aside.

Over the course of our two days of travel, Rasiel’s condition improved greatly. Permanent injuries notwithstanding, he was in good enough form to walk unaided. He bid us thanks and farewell before setting off on his own, leaving us to report to Sondrya. In my brief time with him, my impression of Rasiel was that as long as he managed to find an outlet for his frustration and a means to not feel helpless after his injuries, he would eventually make a full recovery. However, his reaction upon returning to Bulwark’s atmosphere showed clear signs of emotional distress. I initially thought it might be some form of survivor’s guilt or shame at his capture, but his comments made it clear that his reaction stemmed from the fact that his severed connection with Bulwark’s planar energies did not come back upon his return.

Admittedly, I am no expert on the planar attunement properties of archons. Perhaps with time the attunement would return, but even so, I would not be surprised if such a process was a long one, even for an extraplanar being. I don’t know that I have the ability to relate to such a feeling, but if I had to guess, feeling intrinsically disconnected from your home must be incredibly lonely and disheartening…

As for the rest of our time in Bulwark, Sondrya was quick to thank us for our aid, and provided us with ample resources to prepare for our upcoming mission. The Omega-Zed was dismantled and used to further improve the Everdawn, and our crew went about seeking out some upgrades to our equipment. Meved also had the cultist leader’s armour adjusted and retrofitted for his own use. Personally, I had my devwear improved and commissioned a very fetching plush toy with the few remaining credits. Much as some of my companions might tease me for it, they cannot refute the scientifically proven therapeutic benefits of snuggling an adorable fuzzy creature.

While docked, I also took some time to revisit my academic training to perhaps further assess how I might best be able to deal with the upcoming dangers. The result of this investigation is that I’ve repurposed my cache into a converter of sorts. To put it succinctly, I’ve given myself the means to access and reproduce spells outside of my normal repertoire more easily. It should give me the means to better adapt to sudden situations more effectively, in case we should find ourselves in a surprise situation.

I also took some time to put the finishing touches on a project I’ve been conducting on the side. Ever since the first time I was able to disrupt a necrobot’s death protocol (through which we acquired Veronica), I’ve been looking for ways to more reliably reproduce that effect, and perhaps even counteract the unique necrobot form of teleportation altogether.

The result of my research is a spell somewhat akin to the well documented counterspell form of “Dispel Magic”, with a few particularities to account for the unique quantum forces applied by the necrobots. It will take some field testing to know if the spell, which I am dubbing “Quantum Tether” is truly successful, but for posterity I’ve taken the liberty of publishing my research on the extranet. If for whatever reason I am unable to continue work on it myself, then perhaps others might be able to pick up where I left off. I doubt Vari will be happy, and it took some work to find a way to skirt the legal loopholes of my contract with AbadarCorp to share this information, but the safety of Pact Space should supercede any profits or accolades we might receive from hoarding this knowledge. Copyright infringement will be inconsequential if we are all dead or enslaved.

Before our departure, Bulwark had one last surprise for us in the form of a new addition to our crew. Rasiel asked to join us in our mission against the necrobots. I suppose given his circumstances, leaving with us may indeed be preferable to staying in Bulwark. Furthermore, while most residents of Bulwark would be unable to leave for fear of losing their attunement, such a concern no longer existed for Rasiel. While I feel a certain apprehension at taking away such a capable soldier from the stranded piece of Heaven, I cannot deny that he would likely be a big help.

But fear not, lovely audience. This “splitting of the party” will not deprive you your voyeurism. I’ll even grant you the privilege of seeing both perspectives. On that note, let’s see what little adventure the Agents of Thrune have embarked on…

With the first point of the ritual complete at the Adeletti, the Agents decided to continue the ritual in a clockwise pattern. It was amusing watching them try to reconcile the fact that they would not be following the order of a pentagram. Ultimately, they decided that a pentacle would be the next best thing, as though this had import. They try so desperately to cling to patterns, like ants unfailingly following the trail set for them. Naturally, we’ve ample contingencies to ensure that the ritual would succeed regardless of order, but their adherence to known structures is quaintly charming.

What does matter is the significance of these sites. Each tied to a founder of Aroden’s faith in Westcrown, and thus, a cornerstone of the dead god’s lingering hold on the city. The Adeletti honoured Founder Crucisal, spirit of water travel and patron od the adeliers. The Agents’ next destination was the Condottari Marina, where Founder Dotara, the spirit of guardians and patron of dottari, defined the structures of the city watch. Why she chose such a small secluded rock in the middle of the channel, I’ve never bothered to research, but it serves our purposes well. The Marina was guarded, but hardly by anyone capable of putting up a real fight.

As expected, it was a slaughter, and an entertaining one at that. The elven paraduke appeared before the halfling major and her three condottari in training with all the dramatic flair I would expect from one of Thrune’s beloved peons. He lacks the presence of a proper servant of Hell, but his ability to punctuate his taunts with sufficiently powerful magic validates his authority, perhaps even enough to consider him as a future project. Disintegrating the diminutive guardwoman’s firearm was a particularly nice touch, though personally I would have used it against her instead and preserved it. The weapon’s design was interesting enough to merit inspection. That said, I can hardly complain about the method of execution. The half-blood priest has taken quite a liking to his death clutch magic, and to date the spectacle has not worn out its welcome.

As for the trainees… There are times where I wonder what it must be like for a mortal with such limited vision, to find themselves fired upon by projectiles emanating from invisible forces. These deaths seem so pitiful when one sees as much as I do. From my perspective, the lizard and the would-be noble unleashed volley after volley upon those men with impunity, while all they could do was bob their heads in confusion and make futile attempts to swim to shore in the hopes of not being picked off one by one (which, as one might expect, is exactly what happened).

My favourite part of this charade of a defence was the attempt at an aquatic counter-ambush. That a cetaceal would think she could do anything of value against my agents was as laughable as seeing her be sent right back to her plane as soon as she emerged to confront them. Her summoned elemental soon after met a similar fate and now finds itself wallowing in so much dirt.

The triton servant to the celestial beast fared only marginally better before meeting his demise. In some ways, I could see some parallels between the aquatic sniper and the kobold butler. Their unfailing service to a greater being of planar power, their preference for crossbows… Would that he shared in the ability to be subtle, and perhaps he might not have died so pitifully. An ambush is only worthwhile if the follow through is successful.

So it was, the dockworkers hiding in the marina lost what little protection they had. One was taken for the sacrifice, and the others were made wonderfully awful prey to a swarm of insects. Not the most efficient use of manpower, perhaps, but it certainly punctuated the point. Only servants of Hell will be spared in Westcrown’s rebirth.

Meved happened to run into just such a hostile as he took point for our ascent back up the station’s main shaft. The cultist surrendered, and Meved reluctantly respected Yaro’s wishes by accepting. Why the man immediately attempted to shoot the person who granted him mercy in the back is beyond me, but it should come as no surprise that it went poorly. Our resident ursine was less forgiving the second time. I suppose the cultist was truly devoted to his faith’s principles. That, or adrenaline impeded his reasoning skills very severely. Either way, it was an unfortunate incident. Hopefully Yaro won’t take it too hard. The fact that he managed to take any prisoners during our mission is itself a genuinely impressive feat.

Based on my previous outline, the next step was to rendezvous with Murkk. When I last spoke with her, she was in the engine room. The idea was that we would secure her, rig the station’s engine to blow, and then leave before detonation.

This meant we would have to focus all of our immediate attention on the last step: escaping the station before it explodes. Meved and Vinu, with their privileged modes of accelerated vertical movement, had little trouble returning to the Everdawn in short order. That left Yaro and I to find a solution for ourselves.

Perhaps we would have had enough time to climb up the rest of the shaft and join the others, but given the nature of the sabotage, a more expedient method seemed preferable. Fortunately for us, the escape pod Murkk commandeered was not the only one left.

The two cultist prisoners have been moved to the Everdawn as well, and are remaining in confinement in some of our unused crew rooms. We’ve occasionally checked up on them, and I’ve noticed no problematic developments so far. In fact, they seem quite content with their lodgings, which is understandable, given that these quarters are designed with comfort in mind. I imagine we will have to figure out what to do with them eventually, but I suspect it is an awkward conversation that Yaro and Soryn are all too happy to put off for now.

There was actually another new addition as a result of our mission: we’ve inadvertently acquired a new chef. “Jean-Philippe” was operating out of the Omega-Zed, and seemed to have little interest in our conflict or even who was operating the vessel. In fact, he didn’t seem to demonstrate much interest in anything other than preparing food. Since our departure, he appears to have migrated to our kitchen without much prompting, and only acknowledges our presence to refuse any sort of interference on our part. Besides that, Jean-Philippe has shown no signs of overt hostility, so we’ve elected to leave him be.

This particular development is… Perplexing, to say the least. Then again, it’s not significantly more enigmatic than Murkk, and overall less intrusive. In fact, his food is actually quite enjoyable and nutritionally balanced, if a little unsettling at times.

Among those unsettling foods is “Eoxian gumbo”, a dish Jean-Philippe has on numerous occasions lamented his lack of ingredients for. A cursory search into this dish indicates that what makes it unique is the use of an extract from the Eoxian nettle, which has a mild paralytic agent that creates a numbing feeling and temporarily impedes sensory input. This can then be paired with potent flavour profiles that gradually emerge during consumption as the nettle’s poison subsides, giving an impression that the taster’s senses are “returning from the dead”. While I was initially hesitant at the notion of consuming anything from Eoxian cuisine, this phenomenon does sound rather intriguing as an experience. I’ve already taken note to look for Eoxian nettle when we next visit a world with an active spice market.

Beyond tending to our new passengers, I also took some time to investigate the Omega-Zed and gather a bit more information about the Cult of the Devourer’s operations. Previously, I hypothesised that they might have some sort of interaction with the necrobots, or at least awareness of them, given their occupation in the Drift. This was confirmed when we learned that the Omega-Zed had necrobot materials aboard.

The Omega-Zed’s “Victor” VI is somewhat cumbersome to interact with, but I was able to learn a few worthwhile details. By the ship’s account, a few weeks ago they ran into what appeared to be a scuttled or damaged pyramid-like vessel in the Drift. On approach, the pyramid fired on the Omega-Zed, which retaliated in kind. Initially the pyramid seemed indestructible, but the cultists managed to shut the ship down by destroying the damaged crystal near its summit. This allowed the cultists to send in two parties to salvage whatever they could from the stalled ship, one from without, and one from within.

The crew tasked with salvaging exterior components managed to take away several layers of the pyramid’s outer hull, which is what we found in the Omega-Zed’s storage bay. The crew that entered the ship never reemerged. They were considered lost and left for dead.

After reviewing the footage and account of the incident, I believe we can say with confidence that the pyramid ship the Omega-Zed encountered is the very same one that attacked Khefak Depot. Based on the damage profile on the pyramid and the relative time markers, this scavenging operation also transpired very shortly after O’Toole’s “ordinance drop”.

This tells us three very important things. The first is that a direct strike from a fully armed ballistic missile is insufficient to completely destroy a necrobot pyramid ship. The second is that the crystal structure at the summit seems to not regenerate, and can be destroyed with enough concentrated firepower, making it the vessel’s weak point. The third, and perhaps most worrisome, is that that necrobot ship is still out there somewhere…

Some might think there is an irony that the new Lictor of the Rack is of the Signifiers, an uncommon occurrence among most Orders. However, this strikes me as an eminently logical approach. Magic can hold immense sway over the thoughts of the unsuspecting, so it is only natural that an Order based on the cleansing of ideas have a profound understanding of that facet. This aside, Lictor Darcyne Wrens comports herself with all of the authority and poise one ought to for such an important role.

Her wisdom was apparent when she welcomed our group to the Citadel readily, swift to secure the captured Knight Commander for further interrogation as she briefed us on the situation in the region. Regrettably, the siege limited what intel they could provide, though Lictor Wrens at least supplied us with the names of those most important foes we must vanquish to eliminate the false power structure in Westcrown.

By the Lictor’s account, the Reclamation’s heretical leader, Alexeara Cansellarion, has surrounded herself with powerful and noteworthy followers. She spoke of the woefully corrupted priestess of Iomedae, Bellinia Dorjana. To think that a descendent of pious royalty would fall so low emphasises the depths of this festering wound in the Divine Order. Another was the dwarven oracle Gardel Vargrinnar. He is an old friend of the Cansellarion family, and thus was likely led astray well before the Reclamation took shape. Vors Kyniar, the Taldan ambassador to Cheliax, was also implicated as a heretic sympathiser, which explains Our Highness’ desire to see him returned to the capital before he might inflict further damage through his diplomatic channels.

The corrupted consisted not only of mortals, however. Aveshiel and Maraya, a planetar and brijidine azata respectively, count among the ranks of the Reclamation heretics. Azatas, being the pests that they are, are an understandable presence among the corrupt, but to hear that such a significant warrior of justice also stood among them was disheartening. For this folly to reach so high into Heaven’s ranks, I can only fathom the depths of the surgery we must complete to remove this infection…

Fortunately, not all of the names spoken were foes. Lictor Wrens provided us with some valuable information regarding potential allies. The High Priest of Asmodeus, Jarvaxus Garestic, was among the first to be proposed. Our Queen also spoke of him, and it would seem Father Dexsius knows of his name as well, so perhaps there is some merit in rescuing this priest. She also indicated that several major houses remain intact in Westcrown to her knowledge, some of which may simply be biding their time to support an initiative against their captors. Last among the list, the Lictor spoke of one of her own, Paralictor Gonville Chard. When last they communicated a few days ago, Taranik House, the Rack base of operations in the city proper, was under assault, and though the Lictor feared the worst, she suspected the Paralictor would be shrewd enough to evade capture and execution. Being an agent within the city, Paralictor Chard may indeed be a valuable source of information on the Reclamation’s workings.

This being said, all of this knowledge paled in comparison to the rumour Lictor Wrens shared with us. A detail that if true, completely alters the nature of this inquisition and my very role in this service of the Divine Order: it is said that Alexeara Cansellarion is spoken to by Iomedae directly.

This rumour bears similarities with one I had previously heard of Queen Galfrey of Mendev, an admirable figure that worked tirelessly to combat the wretched demons of the Abyss in the far North. These stories are often dismissed as absurdities, but I know them to be true, for it is a gift I share in as well. To be blessed with the voice of the divine is something very few can fathom, even among the learned and the wise.

If this is what Lady Cansellarion is experiencing, perhaps her misguided crusade is simply indicative of some flaw in her understanding? Or perhaps it is not, and this rebellion bears a greater significance? The machinations of the Divine Order are often complex, far too complex for mortal comprehension. In such circumstances, faith must guide us, and my spirit tells me that there is a Truth here that I Must uncover.

My contemplations would have to wait for after more material objectives were resolved though, as we had set our sights on our next objective: the rescue of Paralictor Chard and the first sacrifice in the rededication of Westcrown. Father Dexsius remained in the Citadel, preoccupied with stabilising the purification magic he had performed upon the shield archon Othiel, while the rest of us set off.

It is too infrequent that I praise our dear Paraduke Kennari. His magical acumen has been endlessly convenient in ensuring us both swift and comfortable travel, allowing us to focus our efforts on the tasks at hand with neither distraction nor delay. It is for this reason we permitted him a brief moment to lament the state of the city that was once his residence. The Paraduke had not returned to Westcrown in decades, and could only remark that the once beautiful jewel of the Chelaxian Empire was but a pitiful shadow of its former self. It is fortunate then that we have arrived, heralds of its rebirth and rejuvenation!

Mistr Kezax, ever the capable scout, took point in investigating Taranik House. The office had been struck fiercely. No doubt the Reclamation heretics feared what the Rack might do in response to their crimes, and launched an unprovoked attack with disproportionate force. These are the only circumstances in which a righteous Hellknight can be felled, as we have seen. Nothing of note remained in the mistreated building, so Mister Kezax continued his search. This led us to the Adeletti, a former warehouse that had been repurposed as the guildhall for the ferrymen who navigate the city’s many channels. It is there that we would need to make our first sacrifice, and there that we would encounter a situation.

The Adeletti was surrounded by dottari guards attempting to control what was apparently an active hostage situation. Mister Kezax was able to slip past the security barricade and enter the building to learn more. There, he found two iron golems standing guard, and beyond them the sounds of hurried construction and agitated pacing.

A well-placed spell to displace us to Kezax’s location brought us within the Adeletti, and face to face with the metallic guardians. We recognised these golems to be of Hellknight make, which made my presence ideal. My gauntlets made clear my place within the Orders, and thus I commanded the guardians to allow us passage into the adjoining room.

Days without food or bath left Paralictor Chard in a less than ideal state, but even then, there was no mistaking his identity as a proper Hellknight. Our mutual recognition made the ensuring discussion very efficient. The man had been instructing one of the ferrymen to repair one of the damaged barges, a means to secure his escape from the city to regroup with his allies in Citadel Rivad. We offered him an alternative: we would transport him directly to the Citadel, and in return, we would use his worker for a greater purpose. The other captives would regrettably be eliminated, so as not to disseminate any information to our foes. Paralictor Chard, sensible as he was, immediately agreed to our proposition.

The ritual was simple enough to conduct, remarkably so, given its potency. Though it was but a small fraction of the true effect, the Infernal energy I felt diffusing itself into the structure of the historic building marked our ritual as powerful magic indeed. The first step towards a truly magnificent reconstitution!

In part bolstered by the ritual, and desiring some measure of righteous retribution for the crimes committed against the Order of the Rack, we opted to confront the dottari directly, rather than flee without incident. By my own estimation, it would not do to leave such corrupt individuals unpunished, lest we give the lost flock a false impression of Justice.

The soldiers sent to capture Paralictor Chard were formidable for their ilk. If nothing else, I can appreciate that the Reclamation heretics have enough sense still to hold the Hellknights in such esteem. However, this was far from enough to prepare them for our presence. Mister Kezax’s well-placed bolts, Paraduke Kennari’s devastating fire and lightning, Miss Archie’s splendid draconic form, and my righteous blade would not be halted by their meagre protections, and their strikes could barely scratch the magnificently clad golems of the Rack. Paralictor Chard, even in his weakened state, joined us long enough to deliver the finishing blow on the last remaining soldier. His blade was not dull as it struck its mark with all the precision I might expect of a disciplined protector of Order.

It is, therefore, a true sign of my favour and the righteousness of our mission that we’ve found ourselves aiding no less than four of these Orders, two lesser and two greater. Our assistance to the Order of the Pike established the union between these noble hunters and my family’s holdings. Liberating the Order of the Glyph from their watch was instrumental in setting the groundwork for Cheliax’s glorious new future. Though lesser Orders, these contributions were still significant in their own right, and personally gratifying.

Our deeds in service to the greater Orders however, speak to the more fundamental pillars of our struggle against corruption. To retake Citadel Dinyar from the lost sheep was a pivotal step in restoring the proper hierarchy of the faiths, and in doing so purging the false narratives of the Reclamation heretics from the sacred lands of Cheliax. That blow effectively isolated these wayward souls to a single pocket, the city of Westcrown.

The wise choice for the heretics would have been to realise their falsehood and disperse, but in their deluded pride, they instead sought to try their hand at yet another citadel, this time Rivad. In my understanding of the Divine Order, I cannot help but see the symbolism here: if the restoration of the Godclaw represented a spiritual salvation, then the restoration of the Rack shall represent mental salvation. The Reclamation heretics, in all their delusion, must grasp with their minds the futility of their rebellion, and what better way to do that than to eradicate their standing army?

Our arrival in the outskirts of the citadel was marked with overcast skies, a perfect shroud for us to approach unseen and judge our adversary. Paraduke Kennari was gracious enough to supply us with a suitable magic abode to shelter us, while Mister Kezax undertook the valuable task of gathering intelligence on the sieging force.

Mister Kezax’s cunning infiltration is a feat very few could accomplish. The army clearly had some measure of discipline in its methods, and no doubt anticipated our appearance. To sneak in from a supply wagon, distract the sentries with a broken wheel, and then navigate each of the camps… Were it not for the sheer duration of the infiltration and the attentiveness of the more seasoned soldiers, Mister Kezax may well have sabotaged the entire camp by himself! However, to identify the specialities and supplies of each camp and to escape without drawing significant alert was more than impressive enough. It gave us ample information with which to make our next move.

Given the placement of the camps, we chose the deployment location for the tathlum carefully. Our sacred weapon would strike at the heart of the most seasoned and crucial support troops, leaving only the remnants of the inexperienced soldiers and devil hunters to reckon with the aftermath. Given their lack of anti-air defences, the actual deployment could be left to Miss Arcatraz with little concern.

The detonation was a sight to behold! To witness the righteous fury invoked by our ritual unleashed… Never before have I seen such immense concentrated power! Were one not aware of the true source, it would be easy to assume it a smite from the gods themselves. In some capacity, that is not far from the truth, as few can claim to be so closely representative of the Divine Order’s will on this plane. Nevertheless, the bulk of the forces were instantly cleansed. Given the specific blessings bestowed upon the device, I have confidence that their souls have seen sent to Hell for proper rehabilitation. An expedient solution, to be sure! As for the remainder, the spirits of divine retribution that emerged from the tathlum’s fallout made short work assimilating them. Although I recognised these creatures to not be inherently Orderly by nature, the tathlum’s Infernal energies no doubt ensured that these manifestations served the Divine Order in their own right. Thus, they could be safely left to their own devices.

This suited us well, for as the body of the lost lamb lay shorn and butchered, the rest of us attended to the head, that being the command tent perched a distance away from the fighting force.

These leaders of heresy had the foresight to prepare for our arrival upon witnessing the tathlum’s brilliance, but they could not in their foolishness anticipate our strength. Miss Archie’s acid interrupted their dwarven rider, while Mister Kezax severed and stripped the celestial protections of the commander’s sworn shield archon. This granted Father Dexsius the means to attempt something rather ambitious: he would steal the heart of the archon, and use this theft and his most powerful scroll to pledge the creature to Asmodeus. I’ve heard of a similar act once before, in a rather infamous event during the Fifth Mendevian Crusade. In truth, even I did not expect such a thing to be possible by mortal hands, but a soul blessed by the pinnacle representative of the Divine Order and infused with the very fabric of the Infernal can hardly be considered a typical mortal.

So it was that the archon Othiel ascended to a higher being, dedicated to the Divine Order in a manner his fragile soul could never accomplish before. Such a marvellous gift! The other leaders were not so fortunate. The dwarven knight would ride his last in a futile attempt at a charge, and Miss Archie would pluck the commander from the battle entirely, a prisoner for us to interrogate at a later time. The remaining soldiers fell in short order, unable to do more than lash out in desperation at Father Dexsius. Of the three that remained after this folly, two saw the error of their ways and surrendered themselves, while one last fool clung to his delusions. Paraduke Kennari’s summoned erinyes saw to the two seeking salvation, while he personally obliterated the last.

Thus, in one night, we have eliminated all but the final grasping remnants of the Reclamation heresy. We need but complete the ritual to dedicate Westcrown to its true masters and remove the last remaining fragments of pestilence, and then finally, Cheliax may heal in earnest.

In a sense, I suppose some of that concern was warranted. The brutish cultist leader was anything but “weakened”, so whatever damage Soryn did must have been repaired in the interim. The mystic accompanying him was the likely culprit of that particular development.

Meved probably came to the same conclusion. His opening gambit was to charge directly forward, largely ignoring Long Teeth (who sidestepped the charge) to crash directly into the healer. Vinu similarly positioned herself to go after the lone subordinate. Tactically speaking, it was a sound move. If the mystic was anything like Yaro, their presence could render the fight into a battle of attrition, and Long Teeth was obviously strong enough for that to be a highly undesirable prospect.

Still, I was a little less enthused by the fact that this left Long Teeth in between Meved and the rest of us. That sentiment was further compounded when Long Teeth made his way even closer to Yaro, Tibbers, and I, rather than engaging with the rampaging ursine. By my scanner’s assessment, Long Teeth had hill giant ancestry, which explained his immense stature and apparent propensity for hurling miscellaneous objects as a combat tactic. I also musn’t neglect to mention his kishaxe, a weapon that could best be described as an amalgamation of metallic slabs formed roughly into an axe shape. Despite it’s crude construction, such a weapon, especially in the hands of someone with Long Teeth’s specifications, was sure to be extremely deadly, especially to someone as lacking in defensive measures as I. In summary, being face to face with Long Teeth is how I imagine many of the cultists might have felt when face to face with Meved.

Fortunately, I still had enough magic left in me to beat a hasty retreat, and to hit him with a dose of acid. I tried interfering with his combat comprehension for his weapon of choice, but that ultimately proved ineffective. My neural algorithms likely aren’t well attuned to handle such an uncommon specimen. Giant heritage aside, Long Teeth hardly seemed neurotypical. Then again, in a universe as absurd as this one, I find myself less and less certain that “neurotypical” could even be considered a valid concept anymore.

In the end, our only casualty of the fight was the robot Tibbers hacked earlier, which at one point was thrown at Yaro in irritation for his restoration techniques. Yaro actually provoked Long Teeth a couple times, mostly through his religious affiliations. I suppose that isn’t much of a surprise; I doubt that a deity of black holes and destruction would have much affection for one of the sun and healing. That said, I believe Yaro also did provoke Long Teeth on more than one occasion with the intention of deterring our foe from going after me. Admittedly, I was not exactly making concerted efforts to dissuade the cultist’s aggressions, but I wasn’t exactly inviting myself to be targeted either. In that sense, we were fortunate that Long Teeth wasn’t more accurate with his strikes, and was mostly distracted by Meved’s presence.

The situation begged the question of whether my presence on the battlefield might hamper Yaro’s focus. Self-sacrifice has been in his nature as long as I’ve known him (it is one of the things I deeply admire about him), but I feared that our relationship might be heightening his protective instinct, and if left unchecked, it could have terrible repercussions. As our medic, it is arguably more important that he remain out of the line of fire. Should anything happen to any of us, it’s him we would be counting on the most. Not to mention, I have a strong personal bias to not wish to see him come to harm, especially for my sake…

But that discussion could wait for after the mission. We still had a job to finish.

A short conversation with the Omega-Zed’s… Interesting VI “Victor”, and a brief check-up on the comms, we determined a few key pieces of information. The first was that there were likely no other prisoners aboard Vanguard Station. The second was that Murkk had managed to find herself in the station’s engine core. Given these details, we came up with a plan.

First, we would leave Tibbers, Soryn, and Rasiel on the Omega-Zed and find a way to decouple it. The ship was in fine enough condition to be flown, and using it would save us from having to transport the injured Rasiel back to the Everdawn.

Next, we would rendezvous with Murkk and see about rigging the station to explode. As much as I abhor destroying a historically significant relic, after everything the cultists have done, it’s likely no longer worth the effort of salvaging. This way, we could at least guarantee that the Cult of the Devourer wouldn’t be able to use it for further operations.

Finally, we would return to the Everdawn and both vessels would make their way to Bulwark.

In that respect, I am thankful to be mistaken. That being said, I think the bulk of my surprise had more to do with the nature of the carnage than the gore itself.

As a Devourer cult vessel, I imagined the Omega-Zed might have an assortment of macabre ritualistic ornamentation. Something to suggest their parasocial devotion to their deity of choice. Well, upon our arrival, we did find a sizeable number of deceased organisms… That is to say, dead cultists. Without getting into too many details, I suppose I can summarise my thoughts retroactively as follows: Soryn may very well be a more vicious warrior than Meved. Anyone who has followed my transcriptions should realise the severity of that statement.

Given the Vice Admiral’s track record, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve seen him in action before, so it’s not as though his combat prowess was unknown to us. That skill is the entire reason we sent him alone in the first place. However, it’s another thing to see the aftermath of his battle. It’s not as though it was all that much compared to what our group has seen or even done in the past, but most of the time that was caused by a group of several individuals performing a coordinated assault. This was a single person. Just one very angry, very determined lashunta. I have to think that even my sister would have been impressed.

Of course, we couldn’t afford to spend much time in awe of Soryn’s martial skill. Despite his progress, he didn’t wipe out all of the cultists in the Omega-Zed, so we still had work to do.

The mezzanine we occupied was blocked by several cultists of varying skills. Meved knocked one off to the floor below simply by entering the room, then he and the rest of us focused our energies on the others up there with us. The positioning was not ideal, as it left us exposed to a few flanks from the rear. Tibbers and Yaro took the brunt of these surprise attacks. Fortunately, the cultists were not nearly as threatening as the necrobots, and we had weakened the forward force enough by then to allow us to fend these ambushes off.

I’ve seen Yaro using his disintegrator cannon to rather great effect previously, so it came as no surprise when it swiftly incapacitated several of the cultists, but what I hadn’t seen before was the weapon Meved brought out. The rifle had an organic structure, but clearly influenced by the nanobots that I’ve observed as part of Meved’s mutations. It emitted an electric blast that absolutely devastated everything it came across. The potency reminded me quite a bit of necrobot weapon design. I was aware that Meved was doing some tinkering on his own time, but to think this was the result… I immediately noted that I would ask him about the weapon when we next found ourselves with some free time. Until then, I opted to remain a healthy mix of impressed and terrified, which seems to have been the theme of this fight.

While Yaro, Meved, and Tibbers finished up the combat on the mezzanine, Vinu and I made our way to regroup with Soryn on the floor below. Vinu naturally made it first, swiftly enough to offer some assistance to our Vanguard commander, though if I’m being perfectly honest, even then it hardly seemed like he needed it. I barely made it to the bottom of the staircase before he finished off the last of the remaining cultists on the floor. Upon closer inspection, it was obvious that he had in fact taken a beating, just enough to have sustained some minor wounds. Fortunately, it was nothing our resident medic couldn’t fix.

What was considerably more dire was the state of the celestial being with him. The angel Rasiel (whose name was omitted from these logs until now for reasons I won’t get into) was, in no uncertain terms, in very poor condition. A more thorough examination would be needed in the medbay for a proper diagnosis, but at a glance I could tell that he had several broken bones, deep lacerations, likely infections, planar disjunction… To say nothing of the amputated wings. I would be lying if I said the sight didn’t stir a certain primal rage at the cultists in that moment for committing such an atrocity to a living being. I can only imagine what Soryn, who we all know to have an exceptionally strong sense of justice, might have thought when he first found our rescue target… I imagine the answer to that lies somewhere in the mounds of cultist and demon bodies strewn about.

Whatever righteous indignation Soryn still felt, we soon had the opportunity to see first hand. Rather surprisingly, our male companions managed to finish the fight upstairs by convincing the last couple of cultists to surrender. Not that I am ever one to doubt Yaro’s devotion to Sarenrae’s principles, but I wouldn’t have expected followers of the Devourer to ever consider the notion. If they could be reasoned out of fighting, perhaps there was hope for them yet. However, that didn’t change the fact that they willingly participated in the crimes committed by the cult, and by the rule of law deserved to pay for those crimes. By the Steward code, the punishment under such circumstances is immediate execution.

I’ve rarely seen Yaro and Soryn so tense. As a psychologist, I recognised it as the very logical conflict between to ideologies encountering a fundamental impasse. As a friend and companion though, it left a very uneasy pit in my stomach. As much as I adore Yaro, he can have difficulty expressing himself when emotionally charged, and Soryn had just experienced more than enough of an ordeal to explain an unwillingness to entertain mercy. When it seemed like Yaro’s attempts at negotiation were going poorly, I tried to appeal to Soryn’s sense of pragmatism. Living cultists could perhaps be of use to us by providing information and accounts to prevent future cultist activity. That seemed enough to stay his hand, at least for the time being. Our new prisoners, Paul and Karl, were placed into one of the containment cells while we attended to our last major obstacle: Long Teeth.

In but a few short months, enemies and incompetent fools have repeatedly tried our patience. Dissident zealots have ravaged our nation over a paltry magic blade, an unpleasant relation bungled his exile so extraordinarily that it cost us an entire Archduchy, and those sycophants of the Church of Asmodeus openly attempted to subvert our authority. Alone, each of these problems could be addressed with little cause for concern. For them to all happen simultaneously is either misfortune of the highest order, or a conspiracy so grand that it surpasses the means of even our greatest competitors. We suspect that our Infernal benefactors have a hand in these machinations, but this, we cannot prove. Naturally, our own aides remain stoic when presented with the notion.

Though we find ourselves inconvenienced, we are nevertheless far from incapable of addressing the issue. The loss of Ravounel by means of the Kintargo Contract was disappointing to say the least, but it did present an intriguing opportunity. The contract defines a manner in which an individual can secure a stronghold which cannot be infringed upon by anyone that wishes to continue to receive the support of Hell. This impedes us as a nation, as we cannot directly interfere with Ravounel without nullifying our Infernal Contract. For us personally however, it can serve as a template for a similar contingency. As our great-grandmother once secured herself a backdoor to escape, should she find herself betrayed, we might do so ourselves. The difference is that we can iterate and improve upon our ancestor’s legacy. It would not be the first time that we have done so. Abrogail I damned herself and her family, but we damned the nation. The Kintargo Contract is flawed, in that it offers little means for the exiled in question to retake Cheliax thereafter. We will ensure that if the time comes, such a feat is not only possible, but assured.

Conveniently, the Glorious Reclamation insurrectionists provided us with the second ingredient for this project. When we offered the soul of Cheliax to Lord Asmodeus, our definition was very carefully worded. Key technicalities ensured that Westcrown would be permitted a certain degree of freedom from Infernal influence. At the time, this was owing to limitations relating to its dedication to Aroden. Though deceased, the god and his successor held enough sway to make Westcrown’s damnation a challenging prospect. We were content to let the city rot in obscurity until such a time that we could find a purpose for it. Unbeknownst to the Reclamation, they gave us just that. Their seizure of the territory within Cheliax’s borders broke the tenuous balance of power over that forsaken city, giving us legitimate means to seize and reconsecrate it. The documents we had Temoni retrieve confirmed as much.

When we called upon the contract devil Odexidie, the very same architect of great-grandmother’s gambit, he seemed amused, but not surprised, by our proposal. Evidently Hell recognised the situation just as we had. Even more interesting was the intercession of a third party, an apostate devil named Vipostix. We recognised this to be the one to which Dominus Fex was bound. His offer of support was well worth the comparatively meagre cost he requested. We would have little use for the upstart Cansellarion or the Iomedaean artefact.

In accordance with our agreement, the drafting of the Westcrown Contract will commence, and will be completed pending a few key tasks.

First, the siege on Citadel Rivad would be lifted. This is not a stipulation of the contract, but rather a tactical choice to simplify future tasks. Our informants confirmed that the crusaders foolishly dedicated the bulk their military strength to this endeavour, meaning a well placed strike would devastate our enemy’s numbers while indebting the Hellknights of the Rack to us. The tathlum our agents have recently procured for us will serve as a useful tool for this purpose.

Second, our agents will perform the necessary rituals to rededicate Westcrown to Asmodeus, setting the groundwork for the contract’s stipulations, and guaranteeing the city a steady influx of Infernal forces to support its seizure in our name.

Third, eliminate the Glorious Reclamation, and secure Heart’s Edge and Alexeara Cansellarion, living soul and mind intact. Once secured, the weapon and woman may be left in the care of Dominus Fex, as Vipostix’s intermediary. May whatever horrors they inflict upon her reflect the punishment she deserves at our hand for the trouble she has caused.

Once these tasks are complete, we shall see to it that Westcrown’s power structure is rebuilt in accordance with our needs, and populated by those we know to be trustworthy. To that end, we shall begin with the bound agents we have sent to complete these labours.

When we sent Paraduke Temoni Kennari to assist our agents at Citadel Dinyar, we thought little of it. That choice has returned dividends, as he is a better field agent than anticipated. He has served our family diligently since the time of my great-grandmother, and we believe him to hold a long standing unrequited love for her. We suspect that same feeling has extended to us, as he sometimes fails to recognise the difference between ancestor and descendant. That sentimentality blinds him at times, but does ensure that his loyalty is unimpeachable. Despite his attachment, his judgement is sound and his skills ample, and we will not deny a certain comfort in the familiarity. We need merely recognise him for his worth, and he shall do what we require.

Archpriest Dexsius Oscellus, by Temoni’s account, is a capable and ambitious priest. We know from his records within the Church of Asmodeus that he has often been denied positions of higher power, owing in no small part to his Infernal taint. His actions to denounce Luthon Malix in our court, in direct defiance of the Grand High Priestess, suggest that he may well be a useful means to redefine the Church of Asmodeus. The religious authority of Egorian has long used Westcrown to exile its undesirables. Let our city then become the training ground for a new, more amenable clergy. If Dexsius can recognise the opportunity, then perhaps he is worthy of our patronage.

We did not think it worth our time to consider Ser Quintus Tanessen, but recent events in Ravounel have reframed his potential. The Tanessens are not only a Ravounese family, but one of the houses capable of ratifying a Lord-Mayor in Kintargo. As such, he may yet hold a key to reclaiming our rebel Archduchy. At the very least, he might allow us to subvert the Kintargan branch. Presently, the boy is clearly inept at courtly matters, but with Temoni’s instruction, he may yet prove a useful asset. The boldness with which the boy made the request to retain his noble title, awkward as it was, showed some promise at least.

Having now met with the voice of his “Divine Order”, Archbaron Dominus Fex’s nature has become abundantly clear to us. We commend Vipostix for his work; we have not encountered a mind so thoroughly twisted in its fundamental understanding of the world. Temoni asserted that Dominus views me as the rightful claimant to the mandate of Hell on Golarion, which assures his complete loyalty, contingent on us not losing that mandate. We recognise therefore that he is to be treated, first and foremost, as an agent of Vipostix. For now, that is sufficient to make use of him, but it remains to be seen if that is an alliance that can endure. We shall take precautionary measures nonetheless, though in truth the puppet is little more than a psychotic brute masquerading as a sophisticate. He is easy to subvert when one understands this. His patron is the far greater threat.

This leaves the last and greatest variable among our bound agents. Arcatraz, daughter of Athervox, and her entourage are an unexpected ally. Naturally, our nation’s previous conflicts with her mother and grandfather lead us to be sceptical of her intentions, and her irreverence makes clear that she does not view her role as subservient. However, she has shown no trace of deceit, save her modifications to the tathlum ritual, which she disclosed and which ultimately served our ends as well as hers. During our briefing of the Westcrown mission, she spoke of spoils. We doubt that greed is her sole motivation, so we have tasked Temoni with investigating further.

The dragon alone is a threat, but her entourage of kobolds are themselves not insignificant. The one they call Kezax is not one to draw attention to himself, quite the contrary in fact, but his cunning and skill were made evident on more than one occasion, as were Zylstra’s. Our understanding is that these agents are unwavering in their support of their mistress, so subverting their loyalty is unlikely. They will need to be accounted for, should the need for action arise. We shall also require our espionage countermeasures to be significantly bolstered. To have our private conversation eavesdropped upon within a secured chamber is simply unacceptable.

While perhaps not ideal in their specifications, these agents have proven on multiple occasions their value to us, and their pledges mean that direct opposition to us is all but impossible. We’ve already gone to great lengths to ensure Temoni’s loyalty. As for the others, we expect that the Paraduke’s guidance and the boons we can offer them will be sufficient.

In fact, the higher one thinks themselves on the ladder, the more amusing it is when the reality of their fragile little lives comes crashing down.

In spite of his arrogance, or rather, because of it, Vice Barrister Odexidie was an ideal engineer for the chastisement of House Thrune. The impetuous phistophilus has been looking for an excuse to expose his work on the Kintargo Contract for a century. Barzillai’s ridiculous ambitions offered him the perfect opportunity to do so. How inconvenient that this subversion would come at a time when Cheliax was embroiled in another rebellion, and would be unable to respond appropriately. For so many things to happen at a time when Abrogail thought herself at the height of her power… When she thought herself above even Hell itself.

For their kind to think this a coincidence is proof of their utter foolishness. Infernals do not deal in chance. Only the certainty that comes with the predictability of the ignorant. In this, even a Queen is no different than a pauper.

Our design was elegant. A small group of outcasts and deviants, born of Cheliax’s rotting bosom, but shunned by the establishments they cling to. We gave these outcasts gifts, the talents they would need to seize power for themselves, but linked these gifts to service they will not and cannot object to. A little nudge here. A whisper there… The right words in the wrong place. These are all the ingredients needed to create people who will alter the world to suit our needs, be it the “heroes” that will save Cheliax, or the overstepping officials that will fragment it.

Some of you less versed in our mechanisms may be confused by our intentions. I do not begrudge your limited minds. For you, I will keep it simple. It is not our wish for our favoured nation to fall. Rather, we must remind the mortals of their place in our arrangement. House Thrune and the Church have grown so bloated with self-importance that they have forgotten who they serve and where their value lies. Their pride grew excessive, even for our purposes, and so they needed a dose of humility. Barzillai Thrune, Darellus Fex, and Luthon Malix were weeds that grew from such an environment, where arrogance leads one to believe a mortal can know better than us our designs. These were weeds that we cultivated, until they could not be ignored. When faced with a clear and present danger, House Thrune thought themselves capable of trusting such weeds to aid them, as though they were immune to the follies of mortal ambition. In this, they have received an awakening.

This is merely the first step, however. Aware of the problem, our vassals must then be reeducated. They must know where to put their trust. This is when an opportunity must present itself. A solution not previously known, with proof of its success. If Abrogail the First could secure a pocket of safety from those that would stab her in the back, why not the Second? All it would take is the cost of a city.

Westcrown has eluded us for far longer than I care for. I’ve made much of my career on the systematic seizure and corruption of the Inheritor’s “gifts”. The emergence of Heart’s Edge is what brought this conflict into my sphere of interest, after all. When it became known that the leader of the so called “Glorious Reclamation” supposedly receives the words of Iomedae in her ears, that the mortal pretender god would have the AUDACITY to use MY methods to craft a champion?! Cheliax’s bonds to us should make such an incursion impossible, in all save a few places. Those final bastions not yet under the full control of Hell.

The City of Twilight clings to Aroden like an orphaned child clings to a dead parent, unwilling to acknowledge that it seeks comfort in a corpse. It is pathetic, but that desperation does grant his herald some sway. Just enough for Heaven to engineer such a pitiful scheme against us. What they do not realise is that this has given us a wonderful opportunity. Our vassals, alone and desperate, will seize Westcrown, and rededicate this bastion of Man to something more tasteful. We grant our beneficiaries the privilege to give this to us, and in return, we will receive the mortal god’s favoured pawn as well as her blade. We gain a city, a chosen one, an artefact, and the deepened subservience of our vassal, while Heaven loses what little hold it had on our chosen territory.

Some of the cultists from the floors above continued attacking us, to varying degrees of success. The enthusiastic cultist with the poorly maintained gun from before dove from their floor and struck at Tibbers. It was a nasty hit, though it would be the only one that cultist would get; Meved saw to it that they landed directly onto his spear. Between the splash of Tibber’s blood spilling down directly onto me, or the sound of the cultist’s bowels being forcibly perforated, I’m still not entirely certain which was the more unpleasant experience…

That wasn’t the only enemy from that floor however. The technomancer and the cultist that shot me earlier were both still there and took some additional shots at Tibbers. I assume their focus on him simply had to do with him being the closest available target, which I must admit made me a little thankful that I opted to go down the ladder first. I almost certainly would not have handled all of those attacks nearly as well.

In fact, Tibbers managed to prove himself a very capable combattant. Despite his injuries, he pushed back the technomancer with a grenade, descended the ladder while returning fire, and hacked a turret (which, as his convention dictates, was swiftly dubbed “Vesper”) which he used to knock the remaining cultist down into a waiting Meved. For all his faults, combat prowess is not one of them. Having him at our flank was a big help.

As I was later told, the others found the last wing of the archive to be populated by two “spellgorgers”, sentient floating orbs of congealed magical energy. These beings were debating the merits of preparing magical contingencies. An interesting discussion, to be sure. A contingency is, in essence, a preparation made for a potential outcome one may not foresee. Personally, I have little need for them, for I know that my path is guided by the Divine Order. At any given moment, Order has already determined what must happen.

That being said, what if a preparation is itself part of that plan? Perhaps then, a contingency is a representation of the gap in our awareness when compared to forces beyond us. The Divine Order is all-knowing, while lesser beings are not. Then, we could understand contingencies as blindly acting in accordance with the Divine Order’s will before we can see that will’s manifestation. This would make a contingency not an act of doubt, but rather, of trust. Of faith that an anticipatory action will eventually bear fruit.

I suspect Father Dexsius understands this, given his large collection of scrolls to anticipate any circumstance that might arise. This is why I was not surprised to hear that he used his magic to obliterate one of the oozes, specifically the one that argued against contingencies, while permitting the other to depart. There is value in purging those that do not see the value of trust. Those that sow doubt are corrupting influences, and an affront to the harmony of the Divine Order.

For their troubles, my companions were greeted with the last remnants of the Archive of Redacted Histories. The last wing contained some scholarly tomes of magic, as well as a few remaining records of Cheliax’s history that no longer served the purposes of Order. The Ashes of History we had accumulated were sufficient, so there was no need to destroy what remained. Paraduke Kennari opted to retain these for personal reasons. He is someone who had the privilege of witnessing first hand Cheliax’s ascension as a nation in service to the Divine Order, so his nostalgia for such records is understandable, albeit a little eccentric.

The ritual materials lay within a secret chamber that was easily found with Mister Kezax’s keen perception. In there they also found a font that bolstered memory. An interesting magical tool, but not one for which we had need. Perhaps it, along with the Archives, might be restored one day to serve a new purpose. I doubt Lord Geryon would see his gifts wasted.

Speaking of Lord Geryon’s gifts, the Archives held one more for us. According to Miss Arcatraz, a short ways from the main structure lay an ancient ritual circle, ideal for the creation of the tathlum. The site was somewhat damaged, but still very serviceable. An interesting feature was that a “watcher” could stand guard over the ritual to create a containment barrier of sorts. It was a helpful mechanism to prevent anything from escaping the ritual area. Much as I might have wished to participate in the ritual, I took on the role of observer to maintain the barrier, while Mister Kezax kept a closer guard where he might be more mobile. The others, each gifted with magical ability, conducted the ritual. In a sense, I played the part of a contingency. Amusing, given the earlier thoughts.

The tathlum ritual was long, but essentially simple. Between prolonged chants and incantations, each participant took a turn dipping the dragon’s skull into the Infernal quicklime solution, coating it in a new layer while imbuing their own will into the concoction. Each participant was to offer up something personal, a desire or strong destructive emotional force with which to bolster the effect.

Miss Zylstra was first. She invoked a desire to inflict pain and misery. I did not know her to be particularly sadistic by nature, though it came as no surprise. Her words rang true, and the solution was all the more vicious for it.

Next was Father Dexsius. Ever the devout Asmodean, he called upon the Lord of Hell, and infused his own divine magic into the ritual. The effect was potent, causing the solution to emanate the gloriously oppressive heat of the Pit.

After him was Paraduke Kennari. The words he spoke were subtle at first, though I was blessed with the awareness to decipher them. He spoke of General Gorthoklek of Her Infernal Majestrix’s service, imbuing the skull with hatred and resentment for him. To invoke the name of a Pit Fiend is no small thing, and the solution seemed to respond well to the ambition to outshine such a powerful being.

Ser Quintus spoke of his family in Kintargo. Regrettably, the city has fallen to misguided vermin, and to this day, the poor man remains unaware of what became of his kin. At best, they fell honourably in defence of their home, but even so, there has been no message of closure, only the frustration of uncertainty. This frustration now fuelled the tathlum.

The last stage of the ritual was left to Miss Arcatraz. Throughout the ritual, she conducted herself with great skill, as one might expect from a specialist in ritual magic. She contained the energies each participant offered to the tathlum with unmatched discipline and focus, but when she finally made her approach, her demeanour changed. She offered not only the skull, but also the young dragon Timaeus, to the magical concoction. That she would so readily use the child as a component of the ritual was unexpected, though upon reflection, made perfect sense. The creature was a gift offered miraculously by Lord Asmodeus himself through an Infernal ritual, so it was perfectly appropriate that to complete the cycle of his existence, he must be offered back through yet another ritual.

The result was wondrous to behold! In a reaction befitting a weapon of extraordinary power, the solution sent out a wave of energy so immense that even I, well distanced from the centre of the ritual, was struck by its pressure. Then, two very interesting events occurred. The first was that a phantasmal figure of the gold dragon Parnoneryx emerged. Had it not been for the barrier I was maintaining, it might have shot out to the very heavens! The second was that the small Timaeus, imbued with the blessed energies of the tathlum solution, was transformed into a full fledged Infernal dragon!

For the ritual to be complete, both dragons needed to be subdued. To that end, my companions acted swiftly. Miss Archie took on her dragon form and immediately set upon Parnoneryx above, while the others focused their attentions on Timaeus below. Each beast made for a fearsome challenge, but clever applications of debilitating magic kept them from unleashing their full potential. Mister Kezax’s bolt disrupted Timaeus’ Infernal energies quite effectively, whereas Ser Quintus anchored Parnoneryx’s spectral form so that its mobility would be further restricted, forcing him to contend with Miss Archie’s aggressions. Each member in turn did their part in weakening and tearing away at the dragons, with every strike taming the power that would give the tathlum its strength.

Ultimately, Timaeus would fall first, weakened significantly by Paraduke Kennari, Father Dexsius, and Ser Quintus. Mister Kezax would strike the final blow upon his former charge, a ritual infanticide on behalf of the young dragon’s mother. With the Infernal dragon suppressed, all turned their attention to Parnoneryx’s ghost. Each strike of magic and projectile lessened the spiritual being, but ultimately, it was Miss Archie that thrust herself upon the spirit. By dispersing the magical essences that formed the phantom, the energies could once more reform into the tathlum, the gold dragon’s glorious essence, once used to serve Lady Iomedae, would be given new life! Miss Archie was wise not to hold back against such strength. So great was her exertion that it sent her and the phantom plummeting to the swamplands below, near where Timaeus’ remains lay.

It had not been the first time I had seen Miss Archie consume a sapient being. I have long accepted that it is a facet of her nature to do so. Given her worship of Lord Geryon, it seemed as much a matter of spirituality as it was of convenience or personal taste. This time however… It was immediately clear that the consumption of her adoptive son bore a significance beyond that of familial sacrifice. In that moment, the Divine Order whispered the truth to me. The ritual Miss Archie conducted served a second purpose, not only to concentrate and redistribute power into the tathlum, but also to concentrate and redistribute power into herself. More accurately, it was to unlock a power that had always resided within her. One she has long sought, that I could always sense within her.

The spark of Divine Order within Arcatraz would finally be unshackled in that moment.

This power… Was beautiful to behold. Miss Arcatraz had always spoken in no uncertain terms of her draconic heritage, despite her humanoid appearance. Now at last, her true nature, not merely as a dragon, but as a draconid blessed by Infernal might, was on display for all to see. The strength and elegance of her apotheosis could not be a better representation of the Divine Order’s supreme grace, manifested in physical form.

Truly, it was an honour and privilege to witness such a grand evolution.

As for the tathlum, its creation was supremely successful. The weapon exudes glorious force that causes one to shudder with its mere existence. To look into the skull’s eyes is to glimpse into the righteous cleansing it will bring.

So strong was the ritual’s potency that even the residual energies of the quicklime solution still held power as a catalyst. Father Dexsius saw an opportunity to make use of the materials and placed a unicorn horn within. What emerged was an excellent conduit tool for life energy. Mister Kezax also thought to dip a crossbow bolt into the solution, a wise method of increasing the strength of his weapon.

Figuring that this was our best opportunity to move forward and get to Soryn, the rest of us booked it for the ladder. I took the initiative, risking a hit from the nearby heavy. Fortunately, the breakaway shield Riddle gave me back when we first visited Akiton took the brunt of the hit. I’m thankful that after all this time, I didn’t forget about it! Doubly so considering I doubt I would have survived that manoeuvre otherwise. I’m an academic after all, not an acrobat.

Tibbers followed my lead, then Yaro, though both got a few more solid shots in on our pursuers before getting to me. All the better, I would think, since we’ll no doubt have to fight our way through them again on the way out of here. That just left Vinu on the top floor. I might have feared for her safety alone up there, but no sooner had the thought coalesced in my mind that she took out one last cultist above, then dropped down the shaft faster than even Meved. I suppose there is something to be said for the adage that pahtra always land on their feet, though I don’t imagine that expression expected the pahtra would be wearing a jetpack.

Those of us who didn’t have the foresight to acquire a dorsal aerial accelerator had to go about things the long way. I was unable to ascertain if this station had any elevators, but if this is truly the only means of ascending or descending, then I would have to question the architect’s reasoning. A single point of navigation is bound to cause bottlenecks and traffic jams. An example of just such an incident came to pass (in every sense of the term) when a door opened next to me while I was descending. The pair of cultists apparently took exception to my occupancy of the ladder, and attempted to remove me from the equation. I was lucky that the first one clearly had no regard for proper firearm maintenance and ended up with a blast of hot plasma to the chest for his troubles. If it weren’t for that, then the second cultist’s shot may have put me in a seriously compromised position, because that one definitely hit the mark. I didn’t get much of a chance to see what he shot me with, and by the time it reached me, I was in far too much pain to care.

Given my brand new bullet-induced injury, my desire to remain at my current elevation was at an all-time low, so I opted to make use of my glitch protocol to descend as quickly as possible. Not wanting to leave our trail completely open however, I set up a grease trap at the top of the ladder. Anyone hoping to come down after us would be in for a nasty surprise.

Speaking of nasty surprises, as soon as I made my way down, something appeared in my former position on the ladder, apparently eager to strike at Tibbers above. I recognised it as a babau, which for the sake of brevity I will define as a type of assassin demon. Something about seeing one of the creatures in person for the first time made me viscerally sick to my stomach, as though the creature was an affront to my very being. I suppose that given its designation in the greater planar ecology, that is technically accurate. Nevertheless, that particular feeling seemed more personal than was perhaps warranted. It’s yet another thing I’ll need to evaluate in the future.

Normally, the appearance of a demon would be a grave situation. However, for a second time this did not prove to be the case. Tibbers responded to the sudden appearance pretty much how one might expect, and kicked the babau several times in the face. As it turns out, a boot to the head is a remarkably effective way to dislodge a demon and send it plummeting to the floor below. All it took was the cost of the demon taking Tibbers’ boot with it. Furthermore, it would seem that falling demons lack the “drop bear” instincts that make a falling Meved rather deadly. Meved’s lethality meanwhile remains a universal constant regardless of whether he’s on the “dropping” or “dropped on” side of the equation. What I mean to say is that the babau’s ambush attack was a failure and it did not survive very long afterwards.

It’s at about this point that we finally received a transmission from Soryn. He’d managed to secure our rescue target and had locked himself in the cockpit to buy himself some time. It was obvious from the sound of his voice that he sustained some injuries. For all his combat experience, Soryn is still only a single lashunta, and this was an entire base of heavily armed murderous psychopaths who follow a deeply violent philosophy. We had our doubts sending him in on his own before, but in retrospect it really was a positively ludicrous plan. It was already well in motion though, so all we could do was get to him as quickly as possible. Soryn was the entire reason we could get that far, so the onus was on us to finish the job.

While most of us were still contending with the obstacle that was the ladder, Meved was having his own troubles at the bottom of the shaft. Several more heavy cultists had appeared and were wearing him down. For all of his strength and speed, ursine are not known to be persistence hunters, so their endurance has its limits. I feared that Meved was reaching his. I was definitely pushing mine already.

But that’s why we have Yaro.

I’d be lying if I said my partner’s dramatic leap down didn’t stir something in me. There was something almost angelic in him suddenly landing from above to protect his allies. Then again, some of my perception may have been coloured by the euphoria of his healing energies reaching me as well. The hits I had taken earlier almost certainly had an impact on my mental faculties by that point, after all. Even so, I will state for the record that his stunt was objectively very cool.

You are perhaps wondering who I am, and what has become of that lovable psychopath Dominus Fex? True, my dearest and most successful project is normally tasked with reciting the exploits of Cheliax’s reconquering through his magnificently twisted perspective. For now however, he is taking a well deserved rest, and I, his humble handler, will graciously take on the task. I go by Vipostix, Deimavigga Principale and Arch Adjudicator of Celestial Acquisitions, though just Vipostix is sufficient here. You needn't concern yourself with any further details. Just relax and enjoy the story.

When last we left them, the Queen’s chosen agents had felled the Cult of Geryon and the Order of the Glyph in order to burn the contents of the Archive of Redacted Histories. They did so in order to secure the “ashes of history”, a key ingredient in a rather potent weapon.

Incidentally if you're curious, no, Lord Geryon cares little for this transgression against his worshippers. The preservation of Cheliax’s long and convoluted historical revisionism is an interesting curio, but of little importance in the grand scheme of things. Ah pardon, in the “Divine Order”, I should say. I do confess to being rather proud of myself for that particular fabrication. What better way to pervert the teachings of Heaven than to integrate them into our grander design?

In any case, this left our heroes with the task of actually conducting the ritual to create the dreaded “Tathlum”. How fortunate it was then that upon emerging from their rest, they were greeted by the waiting form of one familiar to them: Atcatraz of the Whisperwood, daughter of Athervox, granddaughter of Gartheris the Wise.

It's been quite some time since her departure, so an explanation may be in order. You see, when Archie returned to the Whisperwood to return one of our flock, she was greeted with a vision. A simple image of her grandfather making a bargain with none other than Lord Geryon. To what end? Might it be that the discoveries of Triaxus and Apostae were not solely of his own doing, or perhaps it was to seek vengeance upon those that stole his naming rights? Is her bloodline’s pride built on academic greatness, or submission to an even higher being? Archie is free to ruminate and squirm on the subject. Can't have her being too comfortable, after all.

The more immediately pertinent detail however, was the price paid for this ambiguous service. Gartheris was given a “gift”. Something he had to keep within himself for safekeeping. In time, he passed it on to his firstborn daughter, and she in turn passed it on to Arcatraz, where it resides to this day. The nature of this thing is to obfuscate and destroy, as is Lord Geryon’s nature, and a part of the wards placed to contain it is to blame for Archie’s noticeable lack of draconic features. So long as she remains the unwitting vessel of Geryon’s gift, her true nature will be alien to her.

As you can imagine, little miss Archie did try to unravel the mystery of this gift. Unfortunately for her, it is not so easily grasped by those that have not embraced it of their own volition, so it is quite impossible for her to know unless The Serpent wills it. That being said, Archie is a very smart girl, and she tried ever so hard. It was a truly admirable effort, worthy of some reward. Thus, she was granted a small epiphany. For Archie to have found the worship of her Lord independently of his deal with her family was too convenient to be a coincidence. Therefore, it stood to reason that other “coincidences” may also be suspect. Why does her family reside so close to a gate to Hell? Why too is the region so rich in ley lines and why did she take such an interest in them? The Lord of the Fifth keeps many inscrutable secrets and has made many enemies, so perhaps there is a reason that he would leave something in the guardianship of powerful beings nestled in a place of planar and occult significance?

Naturally, she'll never uncover the real answer on her own, though it is ever so fun to watch a brilliant mind struggle against its own fundamental limitations, is it not?

But I digress. There remains the ever so critical question of what the dragon scion will do with this information. She could follow the family trend and cure herself of her frail prison of flesh by passing the gift on to the next member of her bloodline. Typically that would require finding a mate, but as fortune would have it, Archie was blessed with a suitable vessel quite recently in the form of young Timaeus, the infant dragon age found at the Winter Grove. The specimen is perfectly suited to take on the blessing, more so even than Archie. Ask me not why we went with the immaculate conception route. That particular mandate was outsourced to another department of Dis.

Surely, any reasonable soul would understand that Hell’s desire is that she pass her gift to this custom vessel, delivered by Lord Asmodeus himself, then that she nurture it into a being befitting of the power it holds…

But since when have we expected mortals to be reasonable?

Why should Arcatraz devote herself to the betterment (or damnation) of another, when she can take that power for herself? Can a dragon deny her own greed, even when it might obliterate her? As a ritualist, she knows that she now has the means to accept the gift earnestly. She need only deliver it into a fresh vessel, then consume it once more, this time of her own volition. Lord Geryon is ever so fond of devouring as a means of gaining power. Surely such an act would be to his liking.

To spare yourself in the name of damning another to greatness, or to seize that greatness for yourself, no matter its cost.

Decisions, decisions.

The second is the Cult of Geryon. They are a more complex group to measure. The Lord of the Fifth is indeed loyal to Lord Asmodeus, and by extension the Divine Order, but the services it provides are necessarily obscured. Their role in preserving the Empire’s forbidden records may seem a contradiction, as one might conclude that it would be better to erase these histories entirely lest they be used for nefarious ends. Under other circumstances, I might have thought as much myself.

It is fortunate then that the Path has made clear to me their True Purpose. This culmination of secrets, much like a delicate crop, has been tended to so that it might one day be cultivated for our ritual. The Archive is a farm from which the final ingredients of the Tathlum shall be harvested. This is the ultimate reason for the cult’s existence.

That being said, this respect would never cause me to hesitate to combat a member of these noble orders. The Divine Order is a complex network of interconnected machinations, the final goal of which is beyond all but its highest of servitors. Sometimes, these machinations encounter each other, and conflict occurs. On the most surface of levels, this may seem self-defeating, but to think so is to ignore the grander schema. By the same logic, the creation of fire is destructive, but this too serves a purpose. Reactions sometimes require one thing to be sacrificed for something of greater value to be produced.

In the case of the Order of the Glyph, they were given the divine task of protecting the Archives of Redacted Histories from all intruders, whereas I was tasked with their destruction. Both of our missions were Supremely ordained, and if they enter into conflict, it is only because the result of this conflict will ultimately serve the Divine Order in some manner. It is not my place to question how, merely to carry out this process to the best of my ability.

It is for this reason I made no effort to dissuade the Order’s Lictor from fighting me, and instead challenged him directly. He was an admirable fighter, and even managed to land a couple blows upon me, an impressive feat given my considerable blessings. In honour of this, I did my best to ensure that his death would properly reflect his pledge. After all, what greater honour would it be for the Lictor of the Glyph to be made into a glyph himself? I pray that his blood’s markings seal themselves into the stone as proof of his eternal commitment. Though few will ever know his sacrifice, there may yet be power in such a demonstration of faith. Saints need not be the only ones to leave such legacies.

While I had focused my attentions on the Lictor, my companions had tended to the remaining Hellknights. Only the Master of Heresy remained, hidden from view and having sealed himself with me in the chamber, while the others were held without by way of a barrier of force. He did attempt to strike me with destructive magic on multiple occasions during my duel, but as is to be expected, I would not crack under such pressure. Instead, I kept the Master preoccupied long enough for Temoni to return and bring my allies to our side of the wall. There, Father Dexius removed the concealment, allowing Mister Kezax and Ser Quintus to finish the job. There is some poetic irony that they did so from concealment themselves. It seems appropriate that a man of secrets would be felled by hidden assassins.

Save its sacrificial guardians, the chamber’s sole element of note was a magical gateway to an opulent residence. In here, we found what may have been a collection of the most significant secrets of the Cheliaxian Royal House of Thrune.

Even so, I consider my response a somewhat troubling shift in my empathic principles, and one I need to observe carefully. Moral justifications for violence can be a starting symptom for many misanthropic conditions, including the infamous psychological disorder commonly found in mercenaries and “adventurers” colloquially referred to as “murder-hoboism”. Incidentally, that term strikes me as a very derogatory way to refer to a serious psychological condition, though I suppose given how the symptoms typically manifest, I can understand the stigma surrounding those that suffer from it…

In any case, we didn’t have to wait too long before Yaro sensed a change in Soryn’s vitals that suggested he had entered combat. It was not the signal I was hoping we’d receive, but it was one we were prepared for. Our strike was swift and largely effective. Meved punched a hole through the enemy formation while the rest of us softened up the remaining footsoldiers and drones. Tibbers even managed to hack one of the drones, which proved rather helpful in evening the odds.

Vinu slipped ahead of us, being the nimble operative that she is, though when Meved tried to push up after her into the next room, he encountered tenacious resistance. Presumably the welcoming party didn’t consist of the station’s toughest defenders. Based on my readings, I believe there was even a creature of the abyssal genus present, but it was soundly crushed and shot into oblivion before I had a chance to study it. As much as I am committed to the pursuit of knowledge in all things, I am a bit glad I missed this opportunity. I cannot quite explain why, but the notion of encountering a demon is wholly unappealing to me in an unusually visceral manner.

The voyage to the coordinates Sondrya gave us was mostly uneventful. The members of the crew that remained on the ship enjoyed the abundance of food Yaro and I brought back from our visit to Bulwark, and I spent most of my time studying up on the cult of the Devourer and examining the celestial fusions we had been given. The properties of heavenly energy are fairly well documented, but hard to come by through conventional means. Looking at things I could easily cross-reference made for a pleasant change from necrobot tech. It was reassuring to know that despite everything, I still had some competence.

I suppose there was one event of note that transpired. Yaroslav came to speak with me, primarily to discuss concerns regarding the conflict that was to come. I initially mistook his concern as fear for my psychological wellbeing given my less than stellar prior record with instances of extreme violence. My instinct was to reassure Yaro that this concern would be unnecessary. My time with this group, though brief, has resulted in me rapidly developing adequate coping mechanisms to process such situations. It’s not exactly a skill I had any desire to develop (violence was always more my sister’s domain of expertise), but I did start this journey knowing I would have to brace myself for the unexpected. Besides, for all their brutality, the pathology of the Devourer cultists was less unnerving to me than other foes we’ve faced. I could write an entire thesis on the reasons for this, but it can be adequately summarised thusly: the psychology of a cultist is knowable, and relatively simplistic. I’d take meathead nihilists over an enigmatic hostile robot empire any day of the week.

That being said, Yaro’s actual concern was more deeply rooted in the risks that come with the unpredictability of the cult and the implications for our metaphysical souls should we fall prey to their ritualistic predations. Really more than anything, he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to protect us adequately. It was difficult for me to entirely refute that concern, given that the nature of our mission would necessarily involve risking our lives. Nevertheless, I did what I could to reassure him and promised that we would collectively be prudent. I wish I could do more to assuage his concerns, but without knowing exactly what we’d be up against, it would be disingenuous to offer any sort of definitive affirmations.

We would soon find out, as we approached the coordinates of the cultists. The ship that attacked Bulwark was designated “Omega-Zed”. We found this ship… Moored to a space station. Interestingly, it was identified as “Vanguard Station”, a well known Pact World stronghold that saw action during the Silent War, but vanished under mysterious circumstances during the conflict with the Swarm. Given its new aesthetic, I believe it is safe to say that in the time since it’s disappearance, it has become a hub for the cult of the Devourer in the Drift.

My scans of the station made it clear that our initial estimates of the cultist forces were well below the reality. Unless the cult of the Devourer was in possession of a particularly large supply of livestock or prisoners (which admittedly, albeit distressingly, was a distinct possibility), then we could be facing a force roughly 50 strong.

Before we could reconsider what we had gotten ourselves into, we were hailed by what we assumed to be the captain of the Omega-Zed, a rather fearsome looking individual titled “Long Teeth”. The label was as apt as it was unsettling. Cosmetic dentistry is hardly a novel concept, but even at a glance I could tell that this particular type of procedure would have been extremely impractical, and likely excruciating. It does leave one to wonder about the psychological disposition of someone who would undergo such a procedure.

As it turns out, Long Teeth did have an almost surprising measure of rationality for a follower of a nihilist deity. Less daunted than the rest of us to interact with the Devourer cultist, Meved took over negotiations. Ultimately, the cultists agreed to accept a single member of our crew aboard to visit the archon, though they explicitly demanded that the member in question not be “the bear”. I made some disparaging allusions to their bravery in the hopes that questioning their dedication to the eradication of all things would provoke them to be more reckless, but Long Teeth was remarkably steadfast. Ultimately, we accepted the offer. They further insisted that we dock at the upper levels of the station, as far as possible from the Omega-Zed. This was presumably to prevent a quick getaway. Despite our ploy ostensibly working, the cultists were more cagey than I anticipated.

That only one of us would be entering the heart of enemy territory left us with the difficult decision of whom to send. Collectively, we settled on Soryn. Barring perhaps Meved, none of us could handle themselves in combat as effectively as the Vice Admiral. He agreed. In fact, he almost seemed excited about it. Yaro suspected as much, and I know him to be sensitive to people’s emotional states. It may be pure speculation on my part, but perhaps for a veteran soldier like Soryn, the familiarity of a battlefield makes it a place of comfort for him.

Of course, we weren’t about to send Soryn in alone without some protections. Yaro established a psychic link so as to be sure of his condition at all times, and I provided a few contingency serums. We had considered sending Vinu or Twitch to follow after him, but given the density of the enemy forces, it seemed more of a risk than a boon. Instead, we decided that our primary combat squad (meaning Meved, Vinu, Tibbers, Yaro, and myself) would wait on standby to push in as soon as Soryn secured the hostage or some other incident occurred. As soon as one of those things happened, our mission would be to open a path for Soryn, rendezvous with him, and then bring the archon back to the Everdawn.

The rest of the crew would remain on the ship, ready to disengage if the cultists decided to go after it while we were busy elsewhere on the station. Murkk offered to help us by constructing something. The group was hesitant given the potential volatility of whatever she might make to help us, though admittedly I don’t think we’re giving her quite enough credit. As chaotic as Murkk’s process might be, she’s been consistently good about not causing any serious damage to us or the ship. Admittedly that’s at least partially due to my occasional interventions, but even then it’s never been for anything severe. I told her that she is welcome to come up with something to help that we might keep in reserve, in case the cultists have a trick that we aren’t ready to deal with. Perhaps a bit of chaos will be just the trump card we’ll need against such a chaotic foe. Still, hopefully we wouldn’t need it.

The station’s landing zone that we were directed to was a simple affair. Just a cargo bay with little in the way of features. What was more impressive was the force that we were met with. Long Teeth came with what was practically a small army of combat drones, armed cultists, mechanics, and heavily armoured warriors. As we watched Soryn be escorted, I took stock of the remainder of the soldiers. All of them displayed fairly basic physical conditioning and armaments that one might expect from combatants, but little more. That’s not to say that this wouldn’t be a problem, but it was a bit of a relief for my scanner not to pick up on any “unidentified nanobot activity” or “regenerative protocols” or “adaptive biomechanical tissue”. It was just a bunch of regular mortal flesh and bone fanatical religious soldiers.

Meved and Tibbers meanwhile were the most severely affected, demonstrating notable discomfort once we entered the heavenly atmosphere. This was bad enough that they opted to remain aboard the Everdawn and spend our time docked “self-medicating”. As the ship’s scientist and the principle user of the synthesis laboratory, I cannot entirely condone its use for unsupervised recreational narcotics production, but as their doctor, I will admit that their choice of medicine is actually a reasonable one, given the circumstances. Either way, so long as they don’t resort to anything actually illicit and clean up after themselves, I’ll let this slide.

Vinu also remained, though I think this was more out of interest in partaking in their “meds” and a general disinterest in Bulwark’s “orderly” society. This reduced the away party to just Yaro and I, which was not entirely unwelcome. It made for a very memorable date location (though I’m not entirely certain if I’d qualify our brief expedition a date, per se).

We were met and escorted by a trumpet archon named Sondrya. She brought us through a portion of the settlement to an official administrative office, but on the journey did entertain several of my inquiries. I’ve compiled some of my more noteworthy learnings here:

• - Bulwark was once a portion of the heavenly domain known as Threshold. The name of their settlement does indeed come from Arqueros, their former Lord.
  
• - They do not know when exactly they were separated from Heaven or how, though they estimate that it transpired roughly 300 years ago. I strongly suspect that this could be attributed to the Gap.
  
• - Bulwark has not had any contact with the rest of Heaven since entering the Drift.
  
• - Though isolated, Bulwark’s technology is still quite modern, albeit perhaps lacking in cutting edge discoveries due to their limited capacity for regular trade.
  
• - Militarily, Bulwark is fairly developed, in keeping with their heavenly origin. This is in part to defend themselves against outside threats from the Drift, but also a fundamental part of their culture that they take quite seriously.
  
• - Though they have attempted to exit the Drift, creating gates has proven problematic. They’ve theorised that a sufficiently strong propulsion system may allow them to move the entire floating landmass, but they are uncertain if this would also move their atmosphere as well. It is an interesting idea that I am regrettably unqualified to provide greater insight on at this time.
  
• - Socially, Bulwark most closely resembles a self-sufficient socialist commune, in which each member contributes in whatever manner they are able, and all residents are seen to in accordance with their need. Given their society’s heavenly influence, greed and corruption do not seem to be significant social problems. Naturally, I cannot completely confirm this from a single visit and the accounts of a local authority figure, but I do trust that Sondrya at least believes this to be true.
  
• - Though it is an isolated community, Bulwark’s mortal population is sufficiently large that it does not suffer from a lack of genetic diversity, though this is monitored to avoid any potential complications.
  
• - While the native residents of Heaven do not require sustenance, an expansive array of nutritionally balanced crops are produced from Bulwark’s agricultural zone in order to supply for the needs of the settlement’s mortal populace. Their staple dish is a small maize-based flatbread folded over an assortment of grilled and fresh vegetables, seasonings, and sauces. The dish, which they call "tah-kos" is highly customisable and at once crunchy, soft, sweet, sour, savoury, and can even be made a little spicy. It has a refreshing flavour profile that feels somewhat reminiscent of lashunta dishes, though some of the ingredients used are not native to Castrovel. I’ve taken some notes to see if I can reproduce this dish once we have returned to the Pact Worlds, as it is (if you’ll pardon the pun) absolutely divine. I’ve also procured some samples to bring back to the rest of the crew, though we’ll have to make sure we adequately compensate Bulwark with some goods of our own.
  

Once we arrived at our destination, we refocused on more serious matters. I shared with Sondrya my condensed file on the necrobots (which she absorbed immediately) and declared that we were seeking aid of any sort to help us in our investigation of the Adamant Fragments, be it military aid, information, or whatever else they might be able to provide.

The nature of the necrobots was clearly distressing to the archon, and she expressed a desire to provide some measure of assistance, though her body language also suggested a reluctance or inability to do so. As we would learn, there were two factors that would pose a problem. The first is that the angelic and archonic residents of Bulwark were unable to leave the atmospheric limits of Bulwark. More accurately, doing so completely stripped them of their inherent powers, rendering them extremely feeble and vulnerable. This would indeed be a major disincentive to ever push beyond their boundaries.

The second was that Bulwark had recently suffered an attack at the hands of cultists of the Devourer. One of their commanders had been abducted, and was being tortured by the cultists who demanded armaments, ships, and other goods from the settlement in exchange for his return. From one image Sondrya provided, these cultists were well armed and had already severely maimed the commander.

My knowledge of the cult of the Devourer is limited to my studies of religious zealotry from when I took my bachelors in interstellar anthropology, but even now, the images of the gruesome atrocities they commit might reemerge from my nightmares. If the commander was still alive, no doubt he was suffering immensely at their hands, and while Bulwark may have a respectable military presence, they lacked the capacity to properly retaliate. Personally, I would hate to have to deal with such an unpleasant foe, which as one might expect is exactly what was then asked of us. Sondrya requested the Everdawn’s assistance in retrieving their commander and exterminating the cultists.

Frightening as the Devourer cultists might be, it would be unconscionable to deny this request. The cultists, by Bulwark’s account, are a fairly small group, well within the means for us to handle. If we had the ability to help, then we could hardly refuse the call. As such, I presented the offer to Soryn and Vari, requesting that we accept the task. Soryn didn’t take much convincing, while Vari acquiesced once I explained that the mission was on a quid pro quo basis. Agents of Heaven are not the sort to default on a debt, after all.

Partially in thanks for our aid and to help us in the fight to come, Bulwark supplied us with upgrades to our arms that would infuse them with Celestial energy. Given the necromantic elements of necrobot physiology, these upgrades may even serve us against them…

Regrettably, they did not. In fact, they were rather rude about it, which seemed wholly unnecessary. Perhaps it is cultural ignorance on my part, but I have a great deal of difficulty appreciating why they would be so inflexible even under such dire circumstances. It’s not as though I don’t understand the value of secrecy and the risks of sharing sensitive information, but no principle exists entirely within a vacuum. They are necessarily shaped by context. I believe in the power of science, but I would be a poor scientist if I did not recognise the limitations of what it can explain. The fundamental concept of the scientific method is that it is a perpetual exploration, which implies that there is no point at which our understanding of the universe is wholly complete. Likewise, to conceal knowledge solely for the purpose of concealing it, without appreciating that there are times when sharing it might be better…

Sufficed to say, my interactions with the Elorituans have reminded me of why I did not affiliate myself with them during my time in Castrovellian academia. At best, they are grossly underestimating the danger we could be facing, and at worst, they are arrogant to the point of being willing to doom many innocent lives in the name of a principle that serves absolutely nobody, including themselves.

Even so, it would be disingenuous of me to assert that boredom was not starting to set it after about a week. It made the sudden hail from another vessel quite an exciting event. What made the encounter all the more noteworthy however was what the vessel and its crew actually were. The ship identified itself as Horizon’s End, and the symbol that adorned it was unmistakably that of Weydan, the deity of discovery, equality, exploration, and freedom. Within the first few words exchanged between us, I recognised that Horizon’s End was nothing less than an Avatar Ship. That is to say, the crew of the ship was composed entirely of fragments of the very same deity. Their mission statement, as they told us, was to explore the Drift and make as many discoveries as possible. A simple yet ambitious task.

Though not a follower of Weydan myself, I sympathise with a great number of his philosophies, and took a certain interest in them during my time studying sociology. Under other circumstances, I would have loved to probe the crew for their insights into having such a unique and intimate relationship with their deity, but it seemed clear that they had little interest in lingering any longer than would be necessary before setting off in search of new things to discover. It was a bit easier to accept their staunch adherence to their guiding principles than it was with the Elorituans, but nevertheless a bit disappointing.

I offered my academic synopsis of our accumulated knowledge of the necrobots as a show of good faith (filtered to exclude any proprietary details of course, lest I incur any breach of contract with our dear employers at AbadarCorp), and in return asked if they might have any knowledge on either the Heap or the Adamant Fragments. They confirmed the existence of the Adamant Fragments, as well as their connection to the necrobots. They too encountered the place just as the Elorituans did, and similarly, it appeared to be dormant during their visit, though this was long ago. One additional detail they offered was a symbol. This symbol was similar to what I’ve come to recognise as a sort of standard necrobot insignia, but with a few key differences. It was fortunate that I had already pulled up my records to share them, as it only took a brief search to confirm my recollection: the symbol they showed us was identical to the one worn by the scythe-wielding leader that killed the captain of the Kagekumo.

The exact significance of this detail is still uncertain, but my current hypothesis is that this is a sort of factional emblem of sorts. That, or it could be an indicator of rank or authority… Or a billion other things. No amount of anthropological training can extrapolate fully coherent meaning from such a limited data set. It is a start though, and one we might be able to build on with future data.

That being said, this was not the only knowledge that Horizon’s End offered to us. They also gave us coordinates to a landmark in the Drift they had recently visited, suggesting that we might find something of use to us there. Perhaps they sensed my disappointment or desperation. It has been nearly three months now that I’ve fully committed myself to the study of the necrobots and their physics-defying technology, with very little to show for it. Whatever the case may be, the gesture was greatly appreciated. Though I remain loyal to Yaraesa’s teachings, I hope that I can offer my thanks to Weydan with the affirmation that despite my setbacks, I will continue in my pursuit of discovery and understanding.

When Horizon’s End set us on our slight detour, I was uncertain of what we might find. I tried not to speculate too intensely, though I will confess to some flights of fancy. None of the ideas that came to my mind quite approximated the large golden atmospheric orb we ended up finding at our given destination.

Initially, we were uncertain as to just what it was exactly, until we were hailed. Bulwark, as it is apparently called, is nothing less than a small piece of the Heavenly Plane! The golden orb was in fact an atmospheric bubble made to house a port city of sorts. As Yaro aptly pointed out, the name may have something to do with the Empyreal Lord Arqueros, the Golden Bulwark. If this place truly is associated with the supposed Guardian of Heaven, then we truly have both figuratively and literally struck gold.

Hope this letter finds you well. Heard about that nasty business on Akiton. There were videos and posts all over the extranet. Glad to hear you and your friends made it through safely. As always, as your mentor, I am here to talk if you need to (though admittedly, combat related PTSD is not exactly my area of expertise).

I am reaching out to you to bring something to your attention. I am sure you remember Dr. Afasha’s lectures on the nature of The Drift and the barrier that exists between it and all other planes. Well I was helping him perform some study and I came across a paper I thought you might be interested in. I have attached a copy of it from the university’s document repository for your convenience, but I will summarise it here as well.

The paper goes over the nature of how magic could be blocked from crossing a planar boundary but technology would allow that veil to be pierced. More specifically, it discusses the event known as the Failed-Gate in some detail. I knew such a thing existed, but was unsure of the details. Given what you have been involved in recently, I thought it might be of interest to you.

To me, the stone they describe seems to match the description and pictures of the fragment you sent recently, and they even detail some of the processes that you re-created within the “enigma drive” to capture the energy output from the drive. Moreover their description of “Necrografted robotic organisms” certainly seems to fit the description of your “Necro-bots”.

I have no idea where this is going and am honestly a bit overwhelmed by the entire situation. I just know I promised I would keep my eyes and ears open for you so here we are. As always I am only ever a vid-call away if you need to discuss anything or just as a sounding board to bounce ideas off of. Stay safe out there, the university simply wouldn’t be the same without you.

Respectfully,

Fortunately, Yaro has been incredibly supportive. Neither of us is especially familiar with this sort of relationship, so we’ve been taking great pains to ensure our mutual comfort as we find our bearings. I cannot help but feel that even in this respect, he is the more stable of the two of us, able to accommodate my lack of experience and my um… Eccentricities. He’s been unerringly patient as I try to navigate these new circumstances, and I find myself all the more fond of him for it. As for public displays of affection, I’ve tried to restrain myself… Mostly.

My personal situation would have to take a backseat however, as there was still a galactic crisis to avert. Professor Tethys sent me a message informing me of a curious excerpt that might provide a lead to better understanding the necrobots. An expedition log tied to the infamous Failed Gate experiment made mention of a piece of technology called a “Dolmen Stone” whose description closely matched the piece of technology I had recovered from the Stellar Flare’s destroyed Enigma Core. It also referred to technologically enhanced undead residing within a tomb-like structure, very much in line with the necrobots.

Given the account, it seems clear that the expedition had come across the necrobots over a century ago, but found that group to be dormant or deceased. Unfortunately, very little else is known about the Failed Gate experiment. We know that it was an attempt to create a portal into the Drift using magic, and that the experiment failed catastrophically due to the Drift’s natural incompatibility with the metaphysical properties of magic, resulting in the deaths of all of the researchers, but that’s about it. The experiment was conducted by Elorituans, who closely guard whatever additional details they might know, if any (see previously mentioned lack of survivors). Even as a professional scholar, I have few connections that would grant me the means to gain privileged information from the Elorituans. My affiliation with Yaraesa wouldn’t help either, given our faiths’ conflicting views on the dissemination of information. Elorituans value secrecy, so they likely wouldn’t take kindly to revealing confidential information to someone who believes in the open sharing of knowledge…

Instead of devoting ourselves to the unlikely chance of persuading the followers of the “Hidden Truth” to unhide their truths, we decided to try and work around the information we could gather. This meant that we would have to travel somewhere that would not only have an immense repository of knowledge, but also enough proximity to a major site of Eloritu’s faith that some of their records might have bled out. As it so happens, my home city of Qabarat fits both of these descriptions, so I contacted my parents and we set course.

We opted to use the Drift to travel to Castrovel. Given that the necrobots have already shown the ability to appear on the Material Plane without prior Drift interference, it seems unlikely that travelling in the Drift would bring much more of a risk to us than there already is. That prediction seemed to be validated, as we didn’t encounter any giant necrobot warships waiting to tear us apart this time. We did however identify one necrobot-like signature on our scanners, though it was a great enough distance from our intended trajectory that we thought it best to maintain course and gather more information before pursuing. For all we knew, we could have been running into something far more dangerous than a warship.

It had been roughly four months since I last saw home, but the feeling of nostalgia gave me the impression that it had been much longer. Not long after my sister and I both left home, my parents moved into a smaller apartment that I’d never visited before, so even the term “homecoming” felt like something of a misnomer.

My parents were the same as ever at least, welcoming me and my companions with a level of familiarity that might have even been too enthusiastic. As a student, my dedication to my studies left me a bit isolated, so I rarely ever brought friends over. Perhaps they were simply compensating for that scarcity. I suppose it was better than the alternative, but still… They were practically treating Yaro like he was already their son-in-law, which I have no serious objection to but… It was rather abrupt. It nearly gave me the impression that they were desperately waiting for me to find a partner…

I hope Yaro wasn’t unsettled as a result, though if he was, he showed no indication of it. Rather, he seemed endlessly enthused at newly discovering the various mundanities I’d grown accustomed to in my youth. There was something immensely endearing about that, which makes me wonder how I’ll seem if I ever visit Lajok. I only hope my attire is a little less comical than Yaro’s choice of “hot weather” clothing. Perhaps being blind for most of his life has left Yaro with a diminished sense of colour theory, but even factoring for that I wouldn’t have expected such a fondness for absolutely garish tropical t-shirts. The straw hat and sunglasses did complement his colourful wardrobe though, I will admit.

I tried not to linger too long with my parents before leaving to the universities to conduct my research. Yaro joined me, though the others opted to take some much needed shore leave. Vinu sought out the local nightlife (something my mom of all people was best equipped to inform her about), while I called in a favour with my sister to take Meved on a jungle expedition. Aphaea’s always been my polar opposite in terms of personality, so it didn’t come as much of a surprise when I found out that she and Meved got along like a house on fire. Fortunately there were no houses in the jungle to set ablaze in this case, though the excursion did apparently result in a notable decrease in the local megafauna population…

Qabarat’s libraries are reputed to be some of the finest in the world, full of just about every facet of knowledge there is to find. I’ve always adored spending time in them. The peace and quiet, save for the occasional page turn or rhythmic taps on a computer terminal, interspersed with the errant gasp of realisation or inquisitive sound when someone is on the verge of an “interesting” discovery… Oh, and the scent of aged paper and preservative agents… Not to mention the taste of a hot aromatic spiced beverage and pastries from the local coffee shop and the very caring boyfriend that generously retrieved them. It was all just how I remembered it. Well, save for that last detail. That’s a pleasant bonus.
Enjoyable atmosphere aside, the subject matter of my visit was considerably more difficult to research than anything that had previously brought me to such hallowed halls. I started by looking into the Failed Gate and the Elorituans directly, but there was little more than the paper Professor Tethys shared with me and some other papers referencing it while offering wild speculative theories. “Dolmen Stone” yielded little more than references to a region of the lost world of Golarion, but with few other connecting factors to suggest any deeper connection there. The necrobot marking that we’ve encountered on their technology did almost lead to an interesting trail, but that ended up being another dead end.

It took a few days, but ultimately I did manage to find something that may be of use. By cross referencing reports of the Failed Gate incident and scientific expedition records with ship manifests and travel logs from the space port, I was able to narrow down the list of destinations that were likely visited by the crew that found the “Dolmen Stone”. The first was a massive ship graveyard in the Drift known as the Heap, which supposedly even contains ships of unknown origin. The second destination was called the Adamant Fragments. Also located in the Drift, these were the interspersed ruins of a long lost civilization. Further investigation into this revealed a few documents about the civilisation, including descriptions of symbols that match the ones found on many pieces of necrobot technology! If that’s true, then it might even be possible that the Adamant Fragments are what remains of the necrobot’s original civilisation!

In either case, the Heap and the Adamant Fragments both present possible means to learn more about these mysterious entities we call necrobots. The problem lies with the fact that both reside in the Drift, so none of the recorded coordinates would still be useful to us today. Furthermore, both sites have been exceedingly hard to find, with only a few accounts of anyone successfully reaching them. Our best hope is that our sensors keyed to the necrobot energy signatures might give us enough of an edge to seek them out…

Despite being a skeleton crew, Tibbers, Vari, Madeci, and Vanessa (I’m starting to think Tibbers has a particular fondness for “V” names) did a good job of keeping the Everdawn intact. That being said, for all their skill, they lacked the manpower to fully exploit all of the resources our ship could muster. Tibbers is a capable pilot, but Vinu’s… Unorthodox techniques kept us one step ahead of the enemy ships the entire fight. Incidentally, I’m forever grateful we invested in inertia dampeners; the whiplash from Vinu’s constant shifts between forward and reverse thrust would have surely caused more than a few injuries otherwise. Yaro’s mystical aptitudes ensured we’d have a further leg up on the necrobot fighters, saving us on a few occasions with his foresight. Riddle was initially handling the engines while I managed the targeting systems, but when it became clear that Riddle’s tasks would put too much strain on her leg, I handed her my control module for the scanners instead. She did an excellent job keeping us locked onto the enemy weapons systems. For the bulk of the fight, my attention was spent entirely on pushing as much energy into the rest of the ship’s systems as possible.

Actually, my initial intention was to repair some damage done to the power core, but in the time it took for me to inspect it, the Enigma Core actually appeared to have partially restored itself. I wasn’t exactly in a position to take the time to study the nature of this phenomenon, but it seems likely to me that this was akin to the same self-restorative system we’ve seen manifested by the necrobots. If that is the case, then the technology we’ve reproduced here is all the more exceptional, and will require a more thorough examination.

Not to belittle the remainder of the crew’s efforts, but our weapons operators deserve special praise. I’m told that Vanessa was an excellent shot with the ship’s solar cannon. I don’t doubt this, since we did invest in her for just such a purpose (among others), but I have to wonder how her computational ability compares to the instinctive skill of hardened soldiers. I’ve known Meved to be a ruthless fighter on land, but it was a little surprising to see how effectively he manned a turret. Then there’s Soryn… There is an expression about not underestimating an older individual in a profession where premature death is common. That adage rings very true for our commanding officer. Despite still suffering from numerous serious wounds and “Captain” Vari’s persistent “encouragement” (or perhaps because of it), Soryn’s aim was frighteningly deadly. It took only a couple shots for one of the ships to be destroyed, and the second was thoroughly disarmed before it managed to flee.

Besides effectively concluding our fight for Khefak Depot, two things of note occurred during our aerial combat. The first was that before shooting down the first fighter, we managed to remove its primary gun. Surprisingly, it didn’t disintegrate with the rest of the ship. We would later retrieve it, and in the process find our old friend Murkk helpfully guarding it from looters. Honestly, I was more glad to learn that Murkk and Qesh had survived than the weapon.

The second detail was that the vessel escaped did so not by entering the Drift or by using any conventional methods of propulsion, but rather through teleportation. The energy readings had the same signature as the necrobot weapon systems or the Enigma Core, and I’m confident that it was the same method used by the larger ship that attacked the Nerosyan when we were fleeing the Kagekumo, or how the necrobots seemingly appear out of thin air. That suggests that this manner of spacial displacement is not only highly scalable, but also that the necrobots have a thorough understanding of how to utilise it. If that’s the case, their tactical mobility far outclasses the Pact Worlds, and stresses the need for us to reverse engineer their technology, lest it become our downfall. Our research is no longer a matter of discovering infinite energy so much as it is a matter of overcoming an existential threat.

We had successfully repelled the necrobots from Khefak Depot, though even setting aside the terrifying thought that they might reappear anywhere at anytime and we would have no way to prepare for it, the damage they had already done was significant. Even if I wanted to, tallying the death count would be difficult with the necrobot’s penchant for disintegration. Homes and businesses were reduced to rubble, and I can only begin to fathom the psychological impact on the survivors… I offered up as much of my time helping around town as I could muster, but I only have so much energy, and some of it needed to be dedicated to furthering our research to ensure a tragedy like this would never happen again…

By studying the nanobot samples I had retrieved along with my existing samples of Meved’s mutations, I was able to synthesise a few new forms of technomancy. The first was a rudimentary version of the regenerative factor applied by the necrobots. So far, I can only make it function on subjects with preexisting technological implants, but in these cases I can synergise the nanobots with their biological functions to effectively accelerate their natural healing processes. It did enough to keep Soryn from being completely bedridden for the next several weeks, which given the state he was in was no small accomplishment.

My second development was a weaponised version of the nanobots that alter water vapour into a corrosive acid, essentially a reversal of their restorative function. The corrosive effect should be quite effective at causing intense and persistent damage to necrobot targets.

My third discovery was more of an investigation into the combat routines used by the necrobots. By combining my pre-existing knowledge of how to temporarily inhibit motor functions linked to weapons use with my telepathic combat support techniques, I’ve figured out a way to scramble the programming used by necrobots to hinder their ability to perform most actions, if only for a limited time. It’s rather resource-intensive, but may serve well in a situation where we need to prevent a necrobot from acting, such as to prevent them from landing a final critical shot on my best friend right at the very end of a conflict…

To help with my investigations, I also invested in getting some Akashic support magic. The necrobots don’t seem all that susceptible to slippery surfaces, so it seemed a more useful use of my magical energy than Grease. Likewise, some of my other revelations necessarily replaced a few of my spells that have proven less applicable to our particular circumstances.

Aside from my own research, I took some time to brief Riddle and Murkk on the specifics of necrobot technology and our terrifying situation. Given what they had just experienced, it seemed only fair to fill them in, at the very least, and I could use the assistance. For now, Riddle’s business isn’t in much of a state to return to, and Murkk’s unique understanding of engineering and physics may be exactly what we need to decipher the contradictions of necrobot technology. Either way, it would be nice to have some more company in the lab.

While I was focusing on providing medical support and conducting my nanobot experiments, apparently O’Toole ran a sale in recognition of his contribution in the fight for Khefak Depot. Meved and Vinu seemed to have eagerly taken up the offer, especially after Vari wired us a generous amount of funds for our contributions towards preserving AbadarCorp’s assets. For my part, I bought some materials to boost my cerebral enhancement and to improve my speed and stamina, along with some toolkits and a very nice new custom labcoat that ought to boost my telepathic capabilities somewhat. I had not expected to be using a paycheck for such martial ends, but recent encounters have made it clear that I will almost certainly find myself in a battlefield again, and I can’t afford to be so vulnerable when that happens.

Vulnerable…

I found myself feeling remarkably vulnerable on several occasions recently, but one case keeps returning to my mind. The sight of Yaro so close to death in my arms has left a deep imprint on my psyche. I’ve stated it on several occasions in this journal, but he’s consistently been my bastion of sanity in all of these insane situations. I’ve frequently found myself being pushed to my emotional limits these past few months, and each time, he’s been there to support me. Having seen him work, I’m certain he would have been just as supportive to anyone he felt needed it. I can’t even begin to quantify his kindness and earnestness. Each time I go to administer treatment to the scar in his torso, I’m reminded that it’s a direct product of his attempt to ensure the safety of the rest of us at great personal risk. If he hadn’t absorbed some of our own wounds onto himself… If he hadn’t used all of his healing magic on the rest of us… If he hadn’t rushed into the line of fire to keep the necrobots from overrunning us... His strength of character is exceedingly admirable…

Though my own feelings go beyond admiration. It may well be that what I feel is simply the strength of bonds one feels from shared trauma, but I firmly believe there is another form of attraction there. Even beyond his exemplary personality in times of difficulty, we share many common interests and sensibilities. He’s also quite handsome, and somehow the scars on his incredibly soft and comforting fur only help with that... There is a lot that would lead me to believe that we are compatible… From an analytical perspective, I’ve concluded that my attraction is not only emotionally cogent, but also rationally so. The only variable I’m missing from the equation is his feelings towards me… It’s a very disconcerting variable to lack…

After finding myself cowering behind a thin barrier of concrete to protect myself from a squadron of xenomorphic death robots and an invisible sniper that could very likely disintegrate my entire being with a single blast, I am beginning to wonder if I brought an algebra textbook to a quantum physics class…

There is no doubt that I owe my life to my teammates many times over at this point. Had Meved not taken that initial volley with his aberrantly resilient physiology, or if Yaro hadn’t managed to catch up to us to restore most of our vitality, or even if Vinu hadn’t circled around to cause a diversion… I would rather not linger on the likely outcomes of our situation. Meanwhile, the best I could muster with my single spell was a smokescreen, and even that was just a minor inconvenience for the necrobots. Recent conflict situations have made it increasingly clear to me that on my own, I am not at all useful in a fight.

However, as I’ve come to accept that theory, it’s opened my mind to an alternative approach. In my career as a teaching assistant, my role is to enable others and maximise their potential. This principle can effectively be applied outside of the classroom as well.

In this case, application took the form of me pushing towards the enemy first. The intention was to move between cover and get in close enough that I could provide fire support for Meved and Yaro. Instead, I ended up putting myself in the sniper’s direct line of fire. For the second time in the span of a minute, I felt the death mark appear on my chest.

My response was to run right past the sniper, taking advantage of its unpreparedness to take cover behind a thick wall. That distracted it enough so as to not notice Meved bursting past my steam wall (which had just dissipated at that precise moment) and charging it. This would mark the start of Meved’s rampage as he tore through one necrobot after the next. I simply followed behind and used a combination of covering fire and telepathy to improve his lethality (though his increasingly concerning robotic mutations were the much larger factor in that equation). Once Meved had gone into motion, he very much stayed in motion, to a point where the sheer momentum of his assault could not be opposed.

I would like to say that I could take credit for this as some sort of genius plan, but to do so would be disingenuous. I was too terrified to think and was mostly acting on impulse.

My survival can primarily be attributed to Meved functioning as a barrier for most of the fight. Vinu, who as mentioned had taken a back route to flank the enemy, did not enjoy that privilege. Roughly halfway through our rampage, we heard her get severely injured by the necrobots positioned in a nearby building. If Yaro hadn’t risked himself running through the parking lot to rescue her, there is a distressingly high likelihood that she would not have survived. That alone was a deeply frightening experience I would like to never repeat.

Of course, my personal preferences regarding traumatic experiences is hardly the measure by which the universe allocates them. Just as the fight was almost done, we had a second near death experience. Meved and Vinu were finishing off one bot in a nearby building, so I joined Yaro in the parking lot to help him with the last remaining soldier. Just as I got to him… The necrobot’s aim was deadly accurate… It was a direct hit to his vital organs.

Yaroslav, who had up until now been the stabilising force that kept us not only alive, but sane. My anchor in all of this madness… When he was laying there in my arms, he looked so ragged. He had spent every part of himself keeping us alive up until now, so much so that he couldn’t even help himself. And all of this, the shot… He was hit the very moment I had come up behind him to provide support. There’s a part of me that can’t help but think that if I hadn’t distracted him in that one instant…

It was the height of fortune that I still had some of the healing serums I had made during our time on Absalom. I specifically developed some countermeasures to the atomic decay factor inherent to necrobot weaponry. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough to prevent the wound from becoming lethal. I thank my lucky stars for that, because if Yaro hadn’t made it. If he had died in my arms in that moment… I’m not sure that I could have handled that…

I’m reminded as I recount this, all the things I didn’t say to him before. Everything I’d still like to say… I need time to process my feelings, but now I’m terrified of not getting the chance to express them. I can’t afford to lose Yaro. Really, I can’t afford to lose anyone, not now…

Which brings me back to why we had made this detour in the first place. We found Adventures in Junk in ruins. Riddle was alive, but pinned under the rubble. I offered what suggestions I could to safely remove the chunks of metal and concrete without causing a collapse while the others did the heavy lifting and Vinu snuck through to get Riddle out. All things considered, a broken leg is a far better fate than we might have hoped for. That at least we could fix with some time on the Everdawn’s medbay. In the meantime, we made do with a splint. I’m still impressed that Yaro could dive right back into being a medic despite having very nearly died just a few minutes ago. The resiliency of combat medics is something else…

Moving on, Khefak Depot was not yet liberated from the necrobot attack. Up to that point, we had largely opted not to dwell too much on the giant alien pyramid that occupied what was previously Ixomander's Throne (the same hotel we had briefly occupied during our last stay in town). My best hypothesis was that the new structure was some form of necrobot dropship or control centre. Either way, we lacked the means to deal with a structure of that scale on our own. It was a strange bit of serendipity then that the town had another powerful ally poised to provide some assistance.

I acknowledge that in the past, I have not had the highest opinion of O’Toole’s… Unique enthusiasm for combustibles and disregard for basic safety practices or common sense. Under most circumstances, my objections would stand, but as it turns out, a store run by a madman equipped with a small scale ballistic missile can be quite a useful asset for a town being invaded by a legion of undead robots. We did not go to investigate the impact site directly, but given the scale of the explosion and the subsequent lack of a pulsating green pyramid on the skyline, we assumed that the intended effect was accomplished.

On the subject of incredibly powerful allies, we arrived at the Arena just as Soryn and the Admiral were finishing up a fight with a necrobot larger than any I had seen. It seemed similar to the officer variants we had previously encountered, but heavily modified with a floating platform in place of legs and several weapons integrated into its physiology. Under other circumstances, I might have been curious to study a being that had so thoroughly altered itself for combat purposes, but in this case I simply joined the others in applying enough acidic compounds to its regenerating body to ensure that it wouldn’t reanimate. As much as I lament putting scientific interests as a secondary priority, survival seemed a valid reason.

Next were the magical traps. Mister Kezax and Paraduke Kennari were kind enough to ensure that they would not impede our progress, though I confess that I did incur one of them of my own volition. Truth be told, the impact was not especially noteworthy, but this too is not surprising, when I am blessed with the Divine Order’s protection.

Our first infiltration was to the western archive, a small wing with which Paraduke Kennari was familiar from a previous visitation. The cultists that maintained this wing were quick to oppose us, though as might be expected they lacked the wherewithal to hold back our Righteous Purpose. I impressed upon a single remaining clerk our goals, and though he was recalcitrant at first, we restored his tongue and persuaded him that offering the information was the best course of action. He eventually understood that our mandate superceded his, and kindly informed us that we might find the tomes we sought within the “Library of Baal”.

Truth be told, the restoration of his tongue was not perfect, so this may have been misspoken, as I cannot imagine to what ends a temple in service to the Lord of the Fifth would so honour the Seventh. Then again, such mysteries are at the very core of Geryon’s faith, so perhaps there is a truth there to which I have not yet become privy.

In any case, once we had seen to the ashing of the western wing and its caretakers, we focused our attentions on the central structure. After bypassing some additional magical disincentivisers, we were met by a troupe of osyluths. Their tactic was a combination of frozen walls and illusions thereof to separate us. A clever tactic, to be sure, but a futile one in light of their adversaries, as none of my companions is anything less than a fearsome entity of Justice even on their own.

As it happened, this proved to be a useful opportunity for me to test the gauntlets granted to me by Lictor Ountor. The right gauntlet’s dismissal magic proved a useful tool with which to send away one of the guardians. In doing so, I received the distinct impression that the devil was sent to the steps of Heaven, which seemed to me a fitting recognition of the relationship between the Outer Planes as pieces of the Grander Order. Perhaps this particular manifestation was a form of acknowledgement that the Godclaw’s philosophies and my understanding of the Truth are indeed aligned. If so, it is a wonderful affirmation!

Bone devils are mighty and respectable entities, but just as the guardians of these secrets must, they succumbed to our combined will. While investigating the many parchments in the room, we acquired some tools that may be repurposed, and incinerated what remained, as is our task. I confess that I found myself wondering for the briefest of moments if the defences of the Archive were lacking. Of course, I quickly disabused myself of the notion. If this task is easy, it is because the Divine Order wills it so. After all, it would not do for our resources to be needlessly depleted while tending to our fellow followers of the Path.

The next two chambers were of note for the defences they presented to us. The first was insidious, and would only become evident later. The second was considerably more overt.

To my recollection, I had not encountered an asura before this journey. As we honour devils for their proximity to the Greatest Lord of the Divine Order, we would do well not to neglect the service of those beneath them. This pair was particularly eager to render service unto their Lord Geryon, as they enveloped us in toxic fumes as soon as we had made our presence known. It may have been a true hindrance, were it not for Paraduke Kennari’s resourcefulness. Once their obfuscation was removed, actually combatting the defenders was made trivial thanks to Mister Kezax’s particularly effective marksmanship.

Would that I could praise Mister Kezax’s skills more often, as they have indeed been invaluable in removing obstacles from our path. In this respect, he and his companion Lady Zylstra have been most useful servants in the cause of the Divine Order. No more did this become apparent as when they revealed their failure to withstand the compulsions set upon them by some trap within the Archives. I merely spoke of resuming our purpose, and they swiftly objected, encouraging that I depart. For a moment, I had believed that they may well have uncovered some concealed mystery that required my departure for it to be revealed. Thankfully, Father Dexsius and the Paraduke were keen enough to identify the manipulations at play.

As I was the sole one to trigger this particular obstacle, I took a moment to wait in contemplation as the others made use of their magical abilities to resolve the situation. I consider this to be a profound message from the Order on the importance of not taking our kobold associates for granted. In time, we have collectively come to rely on Mister Kezax’s talents to open the way, but if we are careless, they may become an obstacle, or worse yet, we may grow complacent. Miss Archie, for all her acute perceptiveness, was often blind to the most obvious of Truths. I must be prudent not to make the same mistake.

Our visit to Khefak Depot has abruptly changed to a combat mission. Though my previous visit to this den of ruins and rubbish had also been fraught with perils, the nature of the dangers we are encountering this time is of a much more dire nature than mere bugs. The necrobots, as we have designated them, have made a surprise attack on the town, exterminating anyone and everything in the area with extreme prejudice.

This included the Everdawn, occupied by myself, as well as Tiberius, Medici, and the ship’s AI, which the crew have taken to calling Vanessa. The Everdawn’s primary contingent was on an away mission on the ground at the time of the attack, and as such was unable to regroup before we found ourselves pursued by two necrobot fighters, small but fearsome adversaries with manoeuvrability and weapons that rival if not exceed our own. Tiberius took the helm while Vanessa was designated to the weapons post. I initially took the position of Captain, as is to be expected, while Madeci took on the responsibilities of Science Officer. However, once we had sustained damage, I took it upon myself to see to the ship’s engineering bay, leaving the musician to the role of maintaining morale as acting Captain.

As the primary stakeholder of this ship, I deemed it my personal responsibility to ensure that the ship’s proprietary “Enigma Core” remain unharmed. From the attacks of the necrobots, I am led to believe that they wish to destroy the core specifically. In the interest of our scientific pursuit and protection of AbadarCorp’s intellectual property, I could not allow this to stand. Fortunately, Tiberius is a pilot of adequate skill, and Vanessa’s targeting systems are the best that credits can buy, though the voice modulation that Tiberius has configured for the system is questionable at best.

Nevertheless, our engagement had not yet been concluded when we were contacted via comms to inform us that our enemies’ weapon systems had a notable cooldown period. As such, we have decided to take advantage of our superior speed to lure them away from the town, bait their attacks, and then double back to retrieve our away team, so that they might further assist us in managing the ship’s systems. The Everdawn’s potential is limited by the current skeleton crew, and I am confident that the addition of our contracted agents will bring out its true potential and swiftly resolve this situation.

That is, of course, assuming we can find a way to do that. Soryn noticed that the necrobot fighters pursuing them are slower and have a fairly long cooldown rate on their weapon systems, so he suggested that they fly out of town and double back as a feint so that we might get some time to board the ship and help. It’s a bold strategy, but we’re somewhat lacking in options at the moment.

It’s at about this point that our team split up from Soryn and the Admiral. They went off to clear a landing space in the coliseum, while we decided to make a detour to retrieve Riddle. She responded to my messages, which thankfully means she’s still alive, but I have no idea how long that will last. The necrobots are all over town, and I’m doing my best not to count the number of casualties I’ve seen so far. Even thinking of doing so makes me keenly aware that due to the nature of necrobot weaponry, many of the deceased will be little more than piles of ash, quite easily missed among the dirt and rubble. The thought makes me sick to my stomach, which isn’t really something I can afford.

Our route to Adventures in Junk took us through a parking lot. I hardly recognised the area after all the damage done by the necrobots. I remember thinking in the past that the repurposed junk made the area seem decrepit. That thought feels all the more foolish and condescending when I see it in this ruinous state. There is an unmistakable difference between the product of constructive efforts to make use of available materials, and the product of a destructive conflict. As with many other things I’ve learned in the last few months, my academic understanding of this fact did not prepare me for its practical application. Just like those other lessons, it is one I desperately wish I didn’t have to learn.

Another experience I could have done without is the feeling of absolute dread that comes with seeing a large target on your person. I managed to recognise it as being an operator’s death mark, and immediately rushed for cover. Had I not done so, I would have certainly died. The bullet hole left in the metal panelling I hid behind was mere centimetres away from my cranium. Meved, who charged ahead of us, took enough shots that anyone other than him would have been reduced to a fine mist.

If this past month has taught me anything, it’s that it is immensely difficult to maintain a sense of objectivity when you are directly affected by such horrors.

Despite several encounters now, we still are completely ignorant of the necrobot’s intents. I’ve tried to speculate, to understand them through analysis. I’ve recently begun my project to deconstruct their language so that I might find a means to communicate with them. Admittedly, neither they nor we have made any real attempts to interact through any means other than violence… In many ways, we are very much in alignment with a great number of the first encounter horror stories I’ve read about. I remember thinking on many occasions that were I in such a situation, I would have done things differently. We did not.

After seeing the pillars of smoke rise from Khefak Depot, and the eviscerated and disintegrated corpses in the streets, I cannot bring myself to retain my objectivity. I finally understand the fear and hatred so many species must have felt when faced with armed barbarian raiders, or a colonial superpower claiming every territory they can march over…

The necrobots are more advanced militarily and scientifically to us. They grasp technologies that defy our understanding of the properties of the world, and to our perception bend the very nature of reality to their whims. They clearly have an understanding of hierarchies and social reasoning, at least in the context of military strategy. With all of this knowledge, the necrobots ought to have the wisdom to understand how one might peacefully approach an alien nation. Normally, this is where I might infer that they either have an unknown reason that justifies this hostile response, or they are a collection of beings that somehow developed access to these technologies while avoiding or losing a sense of pacifism. Normally, that would be something I would find disconcerting, but still interesting to ponder.

In the face of this devastation, I found myself having difficulty feeling any desire to seek out answers to those questions. Instead, all I found myself caring about was how to get rid of these wretched things before they could hurt anyone else, and how to rescue as many of our people as we can in the process. With this attack, the necrobots inspired feelings in me that defy rationality. I was terrified and disgusted, but most of all I was inconsolably angry.

By the time we had reached the Admiral’s Snackbar, any sort of contemplation of my emotions was well and truly compartmentalised, replaced with the need to defeat the modest force of soldiers, swarms, and commanders assaulting Soryn, the Admiral, and a pair of local security guards. Meved drove directly into the host, crashing into them before joining the battle as only Meved can. Vinu, Yaro and I took point on the other side, blocking the necrobots in and unleashing everything we had to disable and destroy these enemies. Soryn and the Admiral demonstrated martial prowess that one might expect from a pair of disciplined fighters. The guards did what they could, but despite their efforts to fight back and Yaro’s to preserve them, they succumbed to the swarms and lasers in fairly short order.

Had it not been for Yaro’s timely intervention, I would have likely joined them. Even with the adrenaline of my fight or flight response, I am not nearly as well attuned for combat as the others. It only really occurred to me after the fight just how close I came to death when all the pain of my injuries rushed back to me.

By the time the fight was over, we had won, but we had also lost two people. In exchange, I managed to preserve two of the commanders’ electricity throwers. I might have been pleased at this success, had the cost not been so high.

Whatever grief I experienced, I know it was even worse for Yaroslav. Yaro is a doctor, a person who places a great deal of importance on the responsibility he has for safeguarding others, and above all, someone with an immensely compassionate heart. For someone like that, the loss of two people, standing right next to him no less, would take an immense psychological toll. I tried to console him with the fact that he had done all he could, that this was not his fault, and that his efforts would be best placed helping those that remain. It was a cold and rational reassurance. I very much wished I could grieve with him, or express a heartfelt understanding of his feelings, or even give proper thanks for the fact that his actions are the only reason I survived. These are the responses I should have given. However, I suspect that if I had acknowledged any of my own sentiments then, I might have just broken down.

I could not afford to do that while there were still necrobots attacking the town. Not while Riddle and the other residents were still in danger. Not while Tibbers was still madly attempting to dogfight with the necrobot fighters in the Everdawn overhead…

We had hoped, especially Father Dexsius, that we might take the time to purify Karash’e’tor’s Razor, and divest it of its abyssal taint. Its grotesquely chaotic attunement aside, it has the potential to be a fearsome weapon. Personally, I would love nothing more than to complete St. Ilnea’s trial and bring an end to that foul demon’s lingering essence. However, the complexities inherent in such a task make it a time consuming process. As such, we will simply hold onto the blade for now, with the intent of addressing it at a later date. I shall keep it secure, but away from my person until such a time that we are ready, as the energies it exudes are offensive to my senses.

Instead, I must focus my thoughts to the acquisition of our final ingredient for the Tathlum: the ashes of history. To this end, Paraduke Kennari was kind enough to supply us with a destination. Prior to this, I had not been aware of the Archive of Redacted Histories, nor of the esoteric Hellknight order that guards it. I’ve come to learn that this shelter of forbidden knowledge existed as a contingency, established by the very first Majestrix to serve the True Infernal Masters. While it might have unsettled me that the existence of the Order of the Glyph was unknown to me, there is no fault in this. If it is their mandate to be unknown, then this is merely proof of their diligence. It is that same diligence I will expect when we encounter them.

With our second visit, I was surprised once again, but this time for a different reason.

The reconstruction of the Stellar Flare was almost frighteningly impressive. While I don’t have the original schematics to compare, based on what I had already witnessed, the ship appeared to have been restored almost perfectly to its original factory specifications (missing half notwithstanding). I do not say factory specifications lightly, for that matter. The interior of the ship was devoid of any extraneous features, and by that I really do mean any. All that remained were floors, walls, doors, and ceilings. Previously, the Stellar Flare was littered with debris, broken terminals, malfunctioning security systems, shattered glass, damaged furniture, and what was likely enough tetanus samples to satisfy the Arcanamirium’s immunology department for the next decade. This time, the interior was so thoroughly emptied and sterilised that we could have conducted surgery on the hallway floor (which fortunately did not turn out to be something that was required).

Based on a cursory microlab analysis of the insectoid microbots and some samples of the Stellar Flare, I believe it is valid to conclude that those creatures were responsible for the repairs. Much like every other tech associated with the necrobots, their capabilities far surpass anything I have witnessed. Between their restorative technology and the Enigma Core, I find myself wondering what other proverbial philosopher’s stone of technological advancement the necrobots might be in possession of. The positive impacts they could have if they applied their tech constructively are astronomical, so much so that it makes it all the more heartbreaking that their only interests so far have been of a hostile nature…

Speaking of, the Stellar Flare was not entirely emptied. In fact, the Enigma Core’s room proved to be more occupied than any of us might have cared for. In addition to a couple scarab swarms and a small company of rifle-wielding necrobots, there were also two individuals with distinct appearances that led me to believe they were of a minor commanding rank. The Enigma Core, for that matter, had distinct modifications to it, though I was unable to make a full assessment of the extent of those modifications in the moment.

Even more shocking than the necrobot’s use of traditional military command chains was the fact that the officers spoke! Prior to this encounter, the necrobots had not to my knowledge expressed any sort of communicative capabilities. As one might have expected, the couple of sentences the officers uttered were not in a language I was familiar with, but I’ve studied the idiosyncrasies of enough forms of communication to be able to at least infer the probable meaning. By my estimations, one officer said to the other, “go back, we’ll handle things here”. This alone will not be enough to decipher their tongue, but it’s a start. I’ve made a point to document the words I could remember phonetically, so as to start the creation of a decryption key. With enough snippets, we might yet be able to understand the necrobots, which could open up a great number of avenues to us moving forward.

Following through with my understanding of the officer’s orders, the other officer and some of the necrobot riflemen travelled through the Enigma Core while the remaining necrobot soldiers turned to fight us. The use of the Core as a transportation device is something I considered to be within the realm of possibility, considering our newfound understanding of the inherent portal technology at play. Given the cautious way in which the necrobots safeguard their technology, I suppose it should have come to no surprise that the officer’s first priority was to sabotage the machine. As frustrated as I might have been with that turn of events, there wasn’t much we could do to halt them, save to kill them first, and as we are well aware by now, necrobots are very hard to kill. In fact, I came to learn in this fight that in addition to their myriad of defensive properties, they are also immune to the concept of fear. I say this while accounting for their mechanical nature, as this is a property I am otherwise able to bypass. This seems an odd redundancy, but given their inherently frightening nature, perhaps this is a psychological immunity generated by overexposure, or intentionally included as a defence mechanism against themselves.

We prioritised the (heavily armed) officer. Fortunately, it was better at dealing damage than receiving it, and our experience in dealing with necrobots made it a comparatively quick fight. Less fortunately, I attempted to disrupt the magical energy to keep its rather impressive weapon from disintegrating, but was unsuccessful. I made up for that by dismantling the remaining riflemen’s weapon use protocols, which adjusted their accuracy to what one might expect from the generic soldiers of a fictional evil intergalactic empire.

The scarab swarms were a more problematic element, due largely to just how distracting it can be to be covered in them. Even if we had not encountered them outside of the Stellar Flare moments earlier, being a Castrovellian Lashunta, I have at least some basic education on the dangers and tactics of swarm-like insectoid creatures. I determined that the scarabs exhibited no form of intelligence beyond seeking the nearest organic lifeform and attacking it in the most direct manner possible. I used this fact to our advantage and drew them towards me for as long as I could while the others finished off the remaining riflemen. In retrospect, it was a very dangerous, but ultimately successful gambit, and not one I wish to attempt again anytime soon. I now have the distinct displeasure of being able to add “being nearly eaten alive by robot insects” to my list of personal experiences that I never expected nor desired to have. I cannot say that I would ever recommend it, save perhaps to a follower of Zon Kuthon, though even then, I might suggest one proceed with caution.

After a final barrage of explosives and fully automatic weaponry, the room was secure enough for us to tend to our wounds and investigate the modified Enigma Core. The damage dealt by the officer made it very difficult to reverse engineer their exact modifications, though it was easy enough to tell that the result was a significantly increased power input and an expanded containment field. This would explain its earlier application as a teleportation device. Scientifically, this is as fascinating as it is militarily terrifying, as this form of rapid transportation suggests a mobilisation capacity that could far exceed our own.

In addition to a slightly greater understanding of the engineering applications of an Enigma Core, I was also able to salvage a small fragment of necrobot technology. From a cursory analysis, I cannot ascertain any practical use for it, but I am hoping that further study will change that. We concluded our visit by completing our original intended objective, that being to shut down what was remaining of the Stellar Flare’s Enigma Core.

I only know of vermeliths from textbooks and video-documentaries (and in this particular instance, I am all too happy for that to remain the case), though it is a well-documented fact that their carapace makes for an excellent starship frame. Their natural resistance to electromagnetic, gravitational, and radioactive energies are valuable defensive properties, especially in light of the dangers we might face. From a purely academic standpoint, our choice to use one as the base of our ship was a logical one. Still, I cannot entirely get over the fact that the Everdawn does appear, in a very literal sense, monstrous. Perhaps it is a fault in my personal aesthetic sensibilities that I will eventually overcome, but for the time being I do feel a degree of unease at the idea of navigating through space in a giant worm carcass.

At least the outer aesthetics were not also incorporated into the interior of the vessel. Being the most familiar with starships, Yaro and Meved saw to most of the Everdawn’s design based on our team’s requirements, though Vinu and I did contribute to the overall layout. The general distribution is simple and I would think relatively standard: navigation and overall command occupies the top level, while crew quarters and general needs are covered by the middle level, and finally cargo and engineering occupy the lowest level. The Enigma Core is housed in a dedicated subsection of engineering, further reinforced and isolated for safety purposes. We thought it would be best to make sure not to repeat the mistakes made on the Stellar Flare. The last thing we would want is a necrobot emerging from the Enigma Core and having full access to the remainder of the ship.

Though the Everdawn is primarily a research vessel, we made a point to include at least a few recreational features. We are likely to be spending weeks to even months at a time on the ship, so we invested a bit more to ensure that we would all have comfortable lodgings with personal hygiene facilities. The hydroponic garden also ought to allow us the means to keep ourselves fed with something other than dehydrated nutrient paste, which is a very welcome addition. The holographic amusement chamber was another surprise. I’ve had the pleasure of using a HAC at the university, though it was limited to a few preprogrammed settings. I look forward to seeing how I might program this one for optimal reading environments…

The last notable addition that we made was the inclusion of a virtual intelligence. VIs are common both at the Arcanamirium and among the various universities on Castrovel, so it is not as though I am unfamiliar with them, but much like the school HACs, the university VIs were always a little lacklustre. Naturally, we will all have to come to some sort of agreement regarding the personality we will configure it with, though I’ve taken the liberty of looking up a catalogue and configuration guide to help us with that process. Crafting our virtual crewmate will no doubt occupy a fair amount of my leisure time for the next few months.

Another key factor to this mystery lies in the focusing crystals. While we were able to reproduce the Enigma Core with familiar materials, it clearly lacks the efficiency of a device like Veronica. Vari proposed repurposing Veronica’s crystal for our research, until such a time that we can find or create one ourselves. There is an aspect of uncertainty that I don’t like in this approach. By adding in an element we don’t fully understand, we are creating several unknown variables. However, I cannot deny that it also has a chance of greatly accelerating our progress. Seeing as Veronica already has only a limited number of uses remaining, we agreed that it might be best to move forward with that idea, though not before discharging one last shot from the gun, this time thoroughly measured.

I gave Tibbers the honour of firing the last shot, and even acquired some of the nuclear engineering department’s waste as a target; it does seem, after all, to be an effective means of safely disposing of such materials. By looking at every filter on every conceivable scanner I could requisition from the Arcanamirium, we determined conclusively that the signature is not Drift energy. It didn’t correspond to any other energy signatures we could detect either. That being said, by identifying the trace energies generated as a byproduct of the effect, I was able to use a subtraction method to create a sort of detection model. Much like that one Veskarium holovid explaining guided missile technology, we will be able to identify instances of this mystery energy because we’ll know what it isn’t.

With that, we exhausted the resources I could muster at the Arcanamirium for the time being (I’ve already had to call in several favours to borrow such a large quantity of lab equipment at once without divulging the full nature of my research). We collectively decided that our next step should be returning to Akiton to reinvestigate and also deactivate the original Enigma Core on the Stellar Flare (just in case it might be functioning as a beacon to the necrobots). We also opted to use sub-light travel for the journey. The justification for that choice is simple: I don’t believe any of us are eager to potentially relive the Kagekumo incident.

Upon our arrival, Soryn went to visit his old war buddy at The Admiral’s Snackbar, while Vari, Tibbers, and Madeci remained on the Everdawn. The rest of us set out on the mission proper.

It may have simply been relief to find that it had not been destroyed by a sudden necrobot invasion, but it was oddly comforting to find that Khefak Depot had not changed significantly in the couple of months since our last visit. Well, that is not entirely accurate. The town seems to have embraced goblins and ikeshtis as part of their general populace, which could certainly be counted as a significant alteration. I would be very interested to conduct a thorough study of the sociocultural influences such a large and sudden migration has had, though such an investigation would have to wait until our primary objective was complete.

Prior to our departure back into the Outer Junkfields, we made a stop at O’Toole’s weapon depot so that Meved might acquire the free bandolier of grenades he earned with his loyalty points (that store’s business model continues to baffle me), and then at Adventures in Junk to visit our friend Riddle. The visit was short and consisted mostly of us summarising the harrowing incident of our previous departure. I feel bad about dropping such terrifying news on Riddle’s proverbial lap, but it seemed important that she be aware for her own safety. I fully intend to take a moment to catch up properly after we check up on the Stellar Flare. Almost as soon as we landed, I felt an uncomfortable sense that it was necessary we make our way there sooner rather than later.

As luck would have it, Riddle had preserved the motorcycles we reclaimed from the True Warriors, so we were able to make the journey quickly. Vinu had such a difficulty containing her excitement that she simply didn’t, and promptly rode off before we even confirmed that we had Riddle’s permission to use them. It is fortunate that Riddle was so understanding of our resident pahtra’s excitability, or that might have been an awkward situation. Nevertheless, with Riddle’s blessing, we set off on the two remaining bikes. Yaro, despite his newfound vision, had not completed any vehicle training as of yet, so he rode along with me, which was a perfectly cosy experience.

Our arrival into the midzone came with a few surprises. The first was that it appeared to have been abandoned, which could have been explained by the former residents migrating to Khefak Depot (at least, this is what I hope to be the explanation, and I have seen no indication to the contrary as of yet). The second was that the wreck of the Stellar Flare was considerably more intact than it was when we left it. I barely had a moment to examine the repairs before the likely cause manifested itself and we were attacked by several small swarms of scarab-like microbots. The surprise attack was the third surprise, incidentally.

These robots bore many familiar necrobot traits, though rather than regenerating, they appeared to instead manually repair each other, which leads me to believe that they are perhaps a larger iteration of the nanobots that induce the necrobot regeneration we’ve witnessed. They also didn’t disintegrate upon death, which allowed me to collect a few samples (I did not dare try to capture one alive, as I doubted that I had an effective means to contain it). Overall, they were still a threat (I personally was scratched and bit several times, though fortunately it was nothing Yaro couldn’t fix), but not a significant one. Most of our weapons were not particularly effective, save for grenades, but we had an abundance of those. Yaro’s new disintegrator cannon also did wonders at clearing the bots away, while Meved’s new augmentations seemed to make him more resilient than ever before.

I only know of vermeliths from textbooks and video-documentaries (and in this particular instance, I am all too happy for that to remain the case), though it is a well-documented fact that their carapace makes for an excellent starship frame. Their natural resistance to electromagnetic, gravitational, and radioactive energies are valuable defensive properties, especially in light of the dangers we might face. From a purely academic standpoint, our choice to use one as the base of our ship was a logical one. Still, I cannot entirely get over the fact that the Everdawn does appear, in a very literal sense, monstrous. Perhaps it is a fault in my personal aesthetic sensibilities that I will eventually overcome, but for the time being I do feel a degree of unease at the idea of navigating through space in a giant worm carcass.

At least the outer aesthetics were not also incorporated into the interior of the vessel. Being the most familiar with starships, Yaro and Meved saw to most of the Everdawn’s design based on our team’s requirements, though Vinu and I did contribute to the overall layout. The general distribution is simple and I would think relatively standard: navigation and overall command occupies the top level, while crew quarters and general needs are covered by the middle level, and finally cargo and engineering occupy the lowest level. The Enigma Core is housed in a dedicated subsection of engineering, further reinforced and isolated for safety purposes. We thought it would be best to make sure not to repeat the mistakes made on the Stellar Flare. The last thing we would want is a necrobot emerging from the Enigma Core and having full access to the remainder of the ship.

Though the Everdawn is primarily a research vessel, we made a point to include at least a few recreational features. We are likely to be spending weeks to even months at a time on the ship, so we invested a bit more to ensure that we would all have comfortable lodgings with personal hygiene facilities. The hydroponic garden also ought to allow us the means to keep ourselves fed with something other than dehydrated nutrient paste, which is a very welcome addition. The holographic amusement chamber was another surprise. I’ve had the pleasure of using a HAC at the university, though it was limited to a few preprogrammed settings. I look forward to seeing how I might program this one for optimal reading environments…

The last notable addition that we made was the inclusion of a virtual intelligence. VIs are common both at the Arcanamirium and among the various universities on Castrovel, so it is not as though I am unfamiliar with them, but much like the school HACs, the university VIs were always a little lacklustre. Naturally, we will all have to come to some sort of agreement regarding the personality we will configure it with, though I’ve taken the liberty of looking up a catalogue and configuration guide to help us with that process. Crafting our virtual crewmate will no doubt occupy a fair amount of my leisure time for the next few months.

Another key factor to this mystery lies in the focusing crystals. While we were able to reproduce the Enigma Core with familiar materials, it clearly lacks the efficiency of a device like Veronica. Vari proposed repurposing Veronica’s crystal for our research, until such a time that we can find or create one ourselves. There is an aspect of uncertainty that I don’t like in this approach. By adding in an element we don’t fully understand, we are creating several unknown variables. However, I cannot deny that it also has a chance of greatly accelerating our progress. Seeing as Veronica already has only a limited number of uses remaining, we agreed that it might be best to move forward with that idea, though not before discharging one last shot from the gun, this time thoroughly measured.

I gave Tibbers the honour of firing the last shot, and even acquired some of the nuclear engineering department’s waste as a target; it does seem, after all, to be an effective means of safely disposing of such materials. By looking at every filter on every conceivable scanner I could requisition from the Arcanamirium, we determined conclusively that the signature is not Drift energy. It didn’t correspond to any other energy signatures we could detect either. That being said, by identifying the trace energies generated as a byproduct of the effect, I was able to use a subtraction method to create a sort of detection model. Much like that one Veskarium holovid explaining guided missile technology, we will be able to identify instances of this mystery energy because we’ll know what it isn’t.

With that, we exhausted the resources I could muster at the Arcanamirium for the time being (I’ve already had to call in several favours to borrow such a large quantity of lab equipment at once without divulging the full nature of my research). We collectively decided that our next step should be returning to Akiton to reinvestigate and also deactivate the original Enigma Core on the Stellar Flare (just in case it might be functioning as a beacon to the necrobots). We also opted to use sub-light travel for the journey. The justification for that choice is simple: I don’t believe any of us are eager to potentially relive the Kagekumo incident.

Upon our arrival, Soryn went to visit his old war buddy at The Admiral’s Snackbar, while Vari, Tibbers, and Madeci remained on the Everdawn. The rest of us set out on the mission proper.

It may have simply been relief to find that it had not been destroyed by a sudden necrobot invasion, but it was oddly comforting to find that Khefak Depot had not changed significantly in the couple of months since our last visit. Well, that is not entirely accurate. The town seems to have embraced goblins and ikeshtis as part of their general populace, which could certainly be counted as a significant alteration. I would be very interested to conduct a thorough study of the sociocultural influences such a large and sudden migration has had, though such an investigation would have to wait until our primary objective was complete.

Prior to our departure back into the Outer Junkfields, we made a stop at O’Toole’s weapon depot so that Meved might acquire the free bandolier of grenades he earned with his loyalty points (that store’s business model continues to baffle me), and then at Adventures in Junk to visit our friend Riddle. The visit was short and consisted mostly of us summarising the harrowing incident of our previous departure. I feel bad about dropping such terrifying news on Riddle’s proverbial lap, but it seemed important that she be aware for her own safety. I fully intend to take a moment to catch up properly after we check up on the Stellar Flare. Almost as soon as we landed, I felt an uncomfortable sense that it was necessary we make our way there sooner rather than later.

As luck would have it, Riddle had preserved the motorcycles we reclaimed from the True Warriors, so we were able to make the journey quickly. Vinu had such a difficulty containing her excitement that she simply didn’t, and promptly rode off before we even confirmed that we had Riddle’s permission to use them. It is fortunate that Riddle was so understanding of our resident pahtra’s excitability, or that might have been an awkward situation. Nevertheless, with Riddle’s blessing, we set off on the two remaining bikes. Yaro, despite his newfound vision, had not completed any vehicle training as of yet, so he rode along with me, which was a perfectly cosy experience.

Our arrival into the midzone came with a few surprises. The first was that it appeared to have been abandoned, which could have been explained by the former residents migrating to Khefak Depot (at least, this is what I hope to be the explanation, and I have seen no indication to the contrary as of yet). The second was that the wreck of the Stellar Flare was considerably more intact than it was when we left it. I barely had a moment to examine the repairs before the likely cause manifested itself and we were attacked by several small swarms of scarab-like microbots. The surprise attack was the third surprise, incidentally.

These robots bore many familiar necrobot traits, though rather than regenerating, they appeared to instead manually repair each other, which leads me to believe that they are perhaps a larger iteration of the nanobots that induce the necrobot regeneration we’ve witnessed. They also didn’t disintegrate upon death, which allowed me to collect a few samples (I did not dare try to capture one alive, as I doubted that I had an effective means to contain it). Overall, they were still a threat (I personally was scratched and bit several times, though fortunately it was nothing Yaro couldn’t fix), but not a significant one. Most of our weapons were not particularly effective, save for grenades, but we had an abundance of those. Yaro’s new disintegrator cannon also did wonders at clearing the bots away, while Meved’s new augmentations seemed to make him more resilient than ever before.

That being said, the time since our group returned to Absalom Station has been far from idle.

Perhaps the first and most noteworthy event was Yaro’s request to craft and install a pair of ocular implants. I suppose it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, as I did offer to provide assistance, and he genuinely seemed to be leaning towards seeking out a cure for his blindness… Still, it did strike me as odd that he entrusted me not only with their creation, but also their installation. It’s not as though I don’t have the necessary training to conduct bio-technological interfacing surgeries (I do), but I am not exactly a surgeon by trade…

Creating the eyes ended up being quite a fun endeavour. Yaro only requested that I keep the eyes aesthetically true to those of a natural vlaka, so I made them a stunning shade of pale blue. I also took the liberty of including sensors beyond the common spectrums of visible light. It seemed only logical that if Yaro feared that his lack of vision might impede his ability to support others, I should ensure that his vision would never be lacking in any capacity.

The success with Yaro’s implants persuaded me to continue with some other crafting tasks. One could say that he got the (eye)ball rolling, and as an object in motion is predisposed to stay in motion, so too did I continue with my momentum. With Yaro’s assistance and the funds gained from our recent adventure, I generated a few new tools to help us, should we find ourselves in dangerous situations once again (a likely outcome, I suspect). For myself, I took advantage of the Arcanamirium’s easy access to hybrid technology to boost my mental faculties and to improve my magical synergy. I also built myself a new weapon better suited to both administering serums and fighting necrobots, should the need arise. Yaro and Meved paid me visits as well for assistance with a few upgrades of their own, though in Meved’s case his evolutionary adaptations already did most of the work.

Meved’s biotech transformations remain an anomaly. Over the course of my observation, the rate at which his ursine physiology has adapted to the advanced technological elements inside him is truly astounding. I remain of the opinion that this is in some large capacity due to his inherent genetic malleability as an uplifted creature, though I cannot help but wonder if there are any other factors at play. For now, I am allowing myself to be satisfied with the fact that Meved is fully embracing his technologically augmented status without compromising his psychological profile. That said, I do wish he would compromise on accepting the living quarters the university alloted for him in exchange for his collaboration as a research subject. His obstinancy in continuing to claim a particular bench in Jatembe Park as his den has caused no small amount of complications with local law enforcement…

Speaking of law enforcement, another task Yaro and I set ourselves on was Tibbers’ release. Yaro spoke to the priests at the Sarenite temple, who are known to assist with rehabilitation initiatives, while I spoke to Soryn to see if the Stewards could provide any assistance. Fortunately, our connections were potent, and Tibbers found himself released as a provisionary member of the Stewards without even a trial. Despite taking the time to prepare a testimony, that may have been for the best, as even I would have had difficulty rebuking his many faults. I’ve taken advantage of Meved’s unused residency to shelter the former pirate until such a time that his bail is repaid in full. While I did warn him not to try anything questionable during his time at the Arcanamirium, the majority of the students and professors are capable technomancers, so that warning was more for his safety than theirs.

In exchange for my hospitality (and mostly because I didn’t offer Tibbers an opportunity to object), I took a few dedicated weeks to conduct a second more thorough round of inspections of Veronica, this time with the assistance of one of my senior professors. Despite numerous hours of testing with some of the Pact World’s most advanced equipment, the data we uncovered was once again frustratingly limited. We were at least able to determine a few details regarding the weapon’s method of generating energy, however. Contrary to my original understanding, the symbiotic link with a wielder isn’t so much a means of generating energy as it is a breaker on the circuits that allows the device to trigger. The actual flow of power comes in the form of an energy output spontaneously materialised through a gate-like mechanism, which is then filtered through a focusing crystal of unidentifiable composition to turn the energy into a molecular destabilisation beam. In layman’s terms, the gun teleports an unknown energy type and sends it through a mystery rock to turn it into a laser that breaks things down at the atomic level.

We still don’t know where the portal is linked to, what the energy is, or what the crystal is made of exactly, as these details continue to defy conventional measurement techniques, but it’s a start. This unique form of teleportation could explain the sudden appearance of the necrobot ship without any prior detection. Likewise, the Enigma Core (my new placeholder name for the generator technology Vari-8 initially developed, as we are becoming increasingly uncertain of its actual association with the Drift) is likely operating on a similar technology. I intend to conduct some additional tests on the energy itself, but based on my examinations so far, I believe we can definitively conclude that Veronica’s technology is in no way native to the Pact Worlds or any known and documented extrasolar society.

Besides my research and experimentation, a great deal of my time was spent helping Yaro acclimate to his new sense of vision. As someone who has been accustomed to being blind from birth, there are a great many things Yaro would not be familiar with. Fortunately, I am in the business of education, so I took it upon myself to instruct him not only on the proper use of his eyes, but also a few basic vision-based concepts. Yaro is thankfully a very attentive student and a quick learner, so he’s already picked up the basics of reading and colour theory. I am also gradually introducing him to the aesthetic wonders around Absalom Station, which has proven to be a uniquely rewarding experience, given that I hadn’t had many opportunities to explore them myself. As thanks, Yaro was kind enough to gift me a beautiful turquoise aeon stone. Its natural light emission makes it an excellent night light, which has proven an excellent addition to my evening reading sessions.

Vinu resumed her work as a musician during our downtime, and as I understand it her band has been rapidly gaining popularity. She seemed eager to invite us to one of her concerts, which I was all too happy to accept, though I feared that Yaro may not be sufficiently attuned to vision for the technicolour onslaught of a high-impact sensory-core synthwave dance party. Fortunately, sensory dampeners are a thing, so we managed to make it work. I confess, dance clubs are not really a kind of environment that I am accustomed to, though I nevertheless managed to enjoy myself. It only took a brief period of observation to realise that the combination of audio-visual stimulation and alcoholic beverages means that any given individual is unlikely to be noticed, regardless of their lack of dancing experience, which was reassuring. I could have done without having to get a very drunken Tibbers back to the dorms afterwards, but that’s what I brought the inebriation inhibitors for. I just hope he made it to the washroom before their effects wore off…

On the subject of Vinu’s band, I also had the privilege of meeting Vinu’s band-mate and companion Madeci. I say companion because I am admittedly uncertain of the exact nature of their relationship. I was told that they are roommates, but there is an abundance of rumours and behavioural patterns that may suggest a more intimate bond. Then again, these ambiguous cues may simply be due to their more outgoing natures, and some biases owed to the general reputation of those in the musical profession as being promiscuous. Whatever the case, Madeci seems a perfectly affable individual with a personality as colourful as her appearance. It was my first time meeting a moyishuu, so it was interesting to see the manifestation of her emotional energy first hand. Almost as soon as I met her, I felt at ease, as though meeting with a long time friend I could trust. I imagine such an ability must be quite useful for an entertainer, though I cannot help but be concerned at the avenues for abuse such an ability can also provide. Emotional influence aside, I still believe Madeci is a trustworthy individual. She is Vinu’s friend after all, and a friend of Vinu’s is a friend of mine.

The elation I felt when the vessel that appeared in our proximity was revealed to be a Knights of Golarion cathedralship here to respond to our distress signal was of a comparable level.

Would that it had lasted long enough for me to actually relax, but the universe seemed determined to make every step of our journey as difficult as possible.

Knight Commander Barrett of the Nerosyan barely had time to reach our comms before the cathedralship was struck by a greenish laser that all but annihilated their shields. I believe by this point it would be unnecessary to elaborate on the identify of the offending party, but in the interest of complete clarity, it was the necrobots. A large necrobot carrier appeared almost spontaneously (and very curiously, not from the Drift), intent on attacking not only our rescuers, but also the escape pods. The Nerosyan and the necrobot ship scrambled their fighters into an all out dogfight while we were given the simple task of escaping from the collapsing slaver ship (named the Kagekumo, by the way; it occurs to me that I’ve never included that bit of information, likely on account of the relentless onslaught of life-threatening scenarios that have been occupying the majority of my concentration for the last several hours).

We immediately made our way to the remaining shuttle in the cargo bay. I had intended to make some repairs to it before we departed, lest we die horribly on the very last leg of our journey due to some unaccounted structural weakness, but Tibbers seemed all too intent on getting us moving immediately, risks be damned. Given the situation, I could not exactly blame him, and he was admittedly very dextrous when it came to manoeuvering us through the floating vats and debris (nearly as much as Vinu was when she wrestled the helm from him afterwards). That being said, I was not exactly pleased about our decision when one of the engines later malfunctioned. Besides one moment I dedicated to securely onboarding some civilians from a damaged escape pod, the majority of my time was spent attempting to keep our collapsing shuttle from falling apart before we could reach the Nerosyan.

It is fortunate that our team had a decent amount of experience working together by this point. While Vinu piloted (with Tibbers’ assistance) and Meved manned (beared?) the guns, Yaro kept the passengers stable and I did the same for the machinery. It is thanks to our combined efforts that we made it through the skirmish, even helping some of the Knights and civilians make it through. It was more than a little precarious at times, in no small part due to the fearsome firepower and technology the necrobots were leveraging against us, but we managed to escape with only a few casualties. Admittedly, that there were any casualties at all is a distressing fact, but having seen the horrible brutality of the necrobots first-hand, I’ve come to appreciate the merits of a passing grade. As one Nerosyan crew member so aptly put it, when the enemy can survive a direct hit from a nuclear warhead and blast your shields apart in a single shot, just be thankful you made it out alive. At least our escape and return to Absalom Station would allow us to warn the rest of the Pact Worlds of this threat. I have no desire to even consider the impact were the galaxy to face more of this sort of threat without any warning.

Given that the Necrobots seem to have a stronger command over the Drift than us, Knight Commander Barrett deemed it a prudent strategy to avoid Drift travel altogether. Six days journey in a cathedralship is a small price to pay for not having to enter another skirmish.

I chose to channel my emotional turmoil into reverse engineering the necrobot rifle we managed to preserve. Tibbers was in no position to object to my use of “Veronica”, as he spent the duration of the voyage in the brig (he was still technically a captured pirate, after all). Following a multitude of examinations, I can only conclude that the rifle’s construction goes well beyond the definition of “unconventional weaponry”. The mechanisms by which the device propagates its charge defies our fundamental understanding of the conservation of energy. I’ve shared my findings with some trusted peers at the Arcanamirium for further study, but I strongly suspect they will tell me my data sets must be incorrect, as there is no way that this gun should function. Had I not witnessed the phenomenon personally, and had I not also recently experienced a goblin defying the laws of physics in a similar manner, I might have thought the same thing. The single usable piece of information that I’ve gathered is that the gun is designed to draw power through a pseudo-symbiotic link with the wielder, who presumably possesses their own technology to generate that power. By severing the connection with my magic, I was able to preserve the structural integrity of the gun, but without a necrobot from which to supply energy, it’s unlikely that we will be able to recharge Veronica beyond its capacity at the time of its severance.

While I focused most of my time on studying Veronica, it was not my only subject of interest. Following our recent encounters, I’ve observed an alarming change in Meved’s physiology. When exposed to certain stimuli, Meved’s epidermis undergoes a mutation that renders it increasingly mechanical in nature. I was able to isolate the phenomenon and found it to be similar to the properties of the necrobot tissue I briefly studied. My current hypothesis is that prolonged exposure to the drift and the necrobots has caused an evolutionary leap within his already heavily modified awakened bear genome. I am continuing observation of this phenomenon to ensure that it has no detrimental effects, particularly at a psychological level (the last thing we need is a rampaging cyber-bear necrobot), but for the time being the adaptations seem to be largely beneficial. The nanomachines that are now inherent to Meved’s physiology are doing little more than hardening in response to physical trauma, which may prove a boon in future combat situations.

I also observed a change in Yaroslav, though this was of a more emotional nature. The last encounter on the Kagekumo has clearly left him shaken due to his relative helplessness. I know from my own studies the detrimental effects that sensory deprivation can have, so a certain degree of trauma is to be understood, but I believe Yaro’s distress goes beyond just that. Being helpless is on its own a damaging experience, but to be helpless in a situation where others are potentially relying on you all the more so. I sensed from my time working with Yaro that he is used to being a reliable member of the teams with which he collaborates. To then transition into being the one in need of support on account of his disability would deprive him of not only autonomy, but a sense of his responsibilities to his companions.

Though I did attempt to reassure Yaro that we did not see him as a burden, and that our tethering solution did ultimately allow him to be an integral part of our success, it’s clear that this alone would be insufficient. I suspect that he is strongly considering ocular implants to grant himself vision. This is not an unheard of practice among the Vlaka. Even on the Nerosyan, another member of his species recounted how his deafness caused the accidental death of a crewmate, which encouraged him to undergo surgery. I’ve offered my full support to Yaro, whatever his ultimate decision is. If he chooses a technological solution, perhaps he may accept my assistance with the procedure, as I have some knowledge about technorganic implants (I did successfully defend my thesis, after all). It would be the least I could do, considering how many times he’s saved me in the last month or so.

Given the changes my other companions are going through, I did think it prudent to check up on Vinu as well. She appeared to be perfectly fine, and in fact has been taking the time aboard the Nerosyan to regale the crew with her musical talents. She was also kind enough to provide me with some of her new musical material, which I am presently enjoying as I write this log entry. The rhythms have proven to be quite complementary to my work tempo.

---------------------------

Our return to Absalom was not met with any particular fanfare, which admittedly felt anticlimactic after all of the perils we had just endured. However, a lack of climactic events was something of a welcome reprieve at that point. Given the dangers we were aware of, a part of me could not help but consider just how much longer we might benefit from this relative peace. I’ve had to keep myself in check to ensure that such trains of thought don’t become fixations. Perhaps as a form of coping mechanism, I’ve noticed I’ve developed an occasional proclivity for sarcasm. I suspect that this may well be akin to the “sardonic shift” often encountered with more grizzled adventurers and combatants, though I do not believe I’m quite so far gone. However, given my recent rate of exposure to absurdly dangerous scenarios, I may get there yet. If so, I hope I live long enough to see it, if for no other reason than to fully document the progression.

Naturally, our first destination upon our arrival at Absalom Station (excluding an excruciatingly needed ablution) was to speak with our Stewards handler Soryn. To give him credit, he took my explanation of the situation quite stoically (by which I mean he at least waited for us to leave his office before dramatically shattering his glassware). Considering Yaro compared the situation to the Swarm Wars (of which, I will remind the readers, Soryn is a veteran), I was genuinely impressed at his composure. Perhaps if the Pact Worlds leadership is similarly disciplined, we might be able to calmly mount a defence capable to holding off the necrobots. I say that with admittedly very little confidence that the Pact World leadership actually is composed of such individuals. Nevertheless, I am still attempting to remain at least somewhat optimistic despite the disconcerting probabilities.

Thankfully, Vari-13 had come to meet us after our report with some much needed uplifting news. AbadarCorp was indeed grateful for our contributions to their employee’s continued existence (in opposition to the myriad of khefaks, gang members, pirates, and robotic undead abominations that have recently become acquainted with them), and chose to compensate us generously for our efforts with a large sum of credits (35000, to be exact).

In addition to this, Vari informed us of their impending plan to create a vessel using the experimental Drift engine as the primary means to study this new power source. Given that we had more or less already agreed to this plan prior to our departure from Akiton, it was a simple conclusion that we would all join in as the ship’s crew. Tibbers would also be extended an invite, though this would have to be contingent on him being successfully released after his trial for piracy (a trial we were subpoena’d for). Setting aside the hypothetical necrobot threat for a moment, the technology does remain extremely promising, so there is some value in continuing this plan.

That being said, my previous concerns were brought back to mind by something Soryn pointed out. The Drift engine had remained dormant in Akiton’s wastes for centuries, potentially guarded by that single goblin skinner. The necrobots were entirely unheard of until mere days after our discovery of the drift engine, and their attack did occur on a vessel we were occupying. There is a distinct possibility that the attack on the pirates was not a result of their prolonged time in the drift as we suspected, but rather that WE (as in the finders of the Drift engine) were the targets. Their attacks may be aimed in a manner to prevent us from uncovering this technology, or alternatively they may be targeting us due to us having successfully defeated one of their kind. The others who have suffered as a result of these attacks may simply be collateral damage from them not wishing to leave witnesses.

For the time being, this remains speculation. It’s still difficult to say just what the intention of the necrobots is exactly. They are clearly intelligent, but have shown no interest in communication (that we know of; perhaps we’ve missed a crucial detail in that regard). If we are the ones being targeted, then the necrobots may simply be satisfied with hunting us specifically, in which case the Pact Worlds may not be under an immediate existential threat as we fear (though that is still not exactly reassuring news for us specifically). Alternatively, if their intention is to wipe all evidence of their existence, then our warnings may well have been a damning act that has put millions of lives at risk…

As with my other troubling ruminations, I will do my best to keep this one in check and focus on the known variables of the situation. Dwelling on possibilities without a means to validate them will not be much help, so I’d rather focus my efforts in places where I can help.

We also would not get to enjoy the privileges of an oxygenated environment, nor gravity.

When we diverted power to the engines to get us out of the Drift, we had to sacrifice most of the remaining energy on the ship. That included life support and gravity systems. Fortunately, it’s standard for suits to come with basic life support systems, so we wouldn’t have to worry about a lack of oxygen for a while at least. The lack of gravity meanwhile was not exactly ideal, especially when we were about to enter a combat situation. Meved may have his natural climbing ability to lean on, and Vinu is quite graceful, but as I have previously asserted, I am an academic, not an acrobat.

That’s to say nothing of poor Yaroslav. Being sightless, he usually relies on his other senses to navigate. By turning the ship into a vacuum, we’ve effectively removed his most important senses. Given that it is common for Vlaka to be born without eyesight and to choose to remain that way for cultural reasons, I have to wonder how their species typically tackle the challenges of space. Such an investigation could be interesting and may yield some interesting and creative solutions, but our needs were a little more pressing.

We ended up building Yaro some simple magnetic fasteners to help him remain grounded. Between Tibbers’ jury-rigging skills and my understanding of neurotechnological implant systems, we were able to install it without too much trouble. Then, I tethered myself to Yaro to help guide him along. I had functionally turned myself into a seeing eye Lashunta. It was a little awkward both physically and psychologically at first, but all things considered, it worked reasonably well. I’m thankful it was Yaro of all people that I ended up tethered with. I imagine the arrangement would have been significantly more difficult with Vinu or Meved…

When we spotted Twitch on the ship’s cameras, it was along an end of the cargo bay catwalk, near the aft of the ship and not too far from the shaft that connected the bridge to the rest of the vessel. That made it a fairly clear first objective for us. Compared to just about everything else we’ve had to do so far, retrieving Twitch turned out to be one of the easiest, though certainly not without its perils. The sudden rush from opening the doors from the elevator room to the cargo bay very nearly caused some of us to be violently pulled into space. This was because a large portion of the ship’s rear end was now missing, leaving instead a massive gaping hole into the void of space that could have very easily been used as a crude metaphor by a more uncouth chronicler. Nevertheless, thanks to my brave companions, Twitch was returned to me safe and sound.

Well, relatively safe, given the circumstances. Turning back in towards the rest of the cargo bay made it clear that we remained very much in danger. The slaver pirates that were our initial enemies were all dead, the victims of our new, considerably more frightening foes. There was a mix of flayed ones and rifle wielding necrobots, but all of them shared the common trait of being exceedingly hostile to any living creatures in the immediate vicinity, which at the time consisted exclusively of us.

Our battle tactics were fairly well established by this point. Meved rushed ahead on the catwalk to directly engage with the first creatures he could reach. Vinu held back and used her pinhole rift rifle at long range to great effect, while Vari provided assistance to her in the form of reloading her weapon and giving her healing injections as needed. Tibbers pushed up after Meved, using his new gun (which he has named “Veronica”, by the way) to fire on the rifle necrobots that Vinu was engaging until he reached the frontline. Meanwhile, I helped Yaro carefully move ahead so that we could eventually join in and provide support.

The zero gravity conditions clearly affected out combat capabilities, to the point that our greatest challenge was actually managing to hit the necrobots. They on the other hand didn’t seem to have much trouble. It stands to reason that these beings were configured not only for terrestrial combat, but for space combat as well. Nevertheless, by keeping our efforts mostly concentrated, we could eventually surmount their reconstructive capacities, at which point the decoupler grenades we found in the workshop did wonders putting them down for good. Tibbers did suffer a serious injury and was briefly knocked unconscious, but fortunately Yaro and I arrived in time to help him recover, and soon after our combined efforts were enough to handle the necrobots that remained on our side of the catwalk.

Now that I mention it, there was also one instance where gravity did work in our favour. Near the latter portion of the fight, one of the rifle necrobots from the other side of the catwalk did attempt to float over to our side to engage us more directly. Though under normal atmospheric conditions I would have been unable to do much about this, in this case I was able to leverage the lack of friction to make surprisingly effective use of my psychokinetic talents. With a quick shunt of some nearby materials, the necrobots trajectory was rerouted to a collection of barrels of what I would later learn contained large amounts of Vesk paint thinner. It took a few seconds for the collision to occur, during which time the necrobot managed to land a devastating shot on Vinu. Thankfully Vari was able to heal Vinu quickly enough that she was ready to fire on the barrels as the collision occurred, effectively immersing the necrobot in highly corrosive chemicals. Given how effective this ended up being, I’ve taken note that such materials may be an invaluable resource against the necrobots in the future. Hopefully the Vesk need to thin a lot of paint…

By the time we finally defeated the last of the necrobots and started making our way to the scouting shuttle, we were all exhausted. I had used up nearly all of my magic (the last of it had served to limit the combat effectiveness of the remaining necrobots, to admittedly minimal effect) and most of my energy, as had Yaro, and though Meved, Vinu, and Tibbers were mostly healed thanks to Yaro’s talents, they weren’t exactly in peak condition either.

Fortunately, we did not leave the workshop entirely empty-handed. Aside from the various materials we collected, Meved also managed to find a large supply of decoupler grenades. The nanites contained within those devices are known for their corrosive effect. By my estimation, that should effectively counteract the regenerative properties of our aggressors.

From there, we determined that our next destination would be the bridge. From what we’ve observed, these beings are emerging from somewhere within the Drift. Given that, there is a high probability that the longer we remain within the Drift ourselves, the greater the likelihood that more of these machines will appear. In medicine, when suffering from an open wound, one of the most important steps is to cauterise or otherwise seal it so as to prevent infection. In this metaphor, our exposure to the Drift is the open wound. The sooner we get out, the sooner we can stop worrying about additional reinforcements while we focus on the ones presently on the vessel.

The route to the bridge was long and lacking in any immediate threats, which gave us the opportunity to speak a bit more casually with our newest “ally”. Tiberius "Tibbers" Slayton is, to put it quite simply, not a particularly upstanding individual. From our discussion, we determined that he was born in the Diaspora and sought the life of a pirate ostensibly for money and to cure his boredom. From what I’ve studied on the subject, this is an all too common life story for those of the Diaspora, and certainly not warranting of moral judgement. One cannot fault a person for the circumstances of their birth. Or at least, in my opinion one shouldn’t; I am well aware that there are many across the Pact Worlds do not share my stance on this matter.

That being said, one can fault a person for the choices they make while pursuing their career path. Pirates come in many forms, and while the profession is a criminal one by definition, that is not to say that all crimes are equal in severity (or at least, I do not personally consider them to be). I might have forgiven thievery, smuggling, or other crimes directed at monetary goods as the unfortunate actions of those suffering from social inequality. Abduction and slavery are not nearly as easy to forgive in my eyes, as they are direct attacks on the agency of other living beings. Even if Tibbers was not engaging in the act himself, he was complicit.

To give some credit to the combat capabilities of the pirates, they did not completely buckle under the assault of the necrobots. Marcus and the remaining soldiers on the ship had taken a defensive position in the cargo bay and had even managed to destroy some of the necrobots. There seemed a chance, albeit a microscopically slim one, that the pirates might successfully repel the invaders.

That chance was dashed when a new figure appeared in the cargo bay. This necrobot carried a disproportionately large battle scythe and had ornate markings that lead me to hypothesise that they were a commanding officer of some sort. With what looked to be minimal effort, this new figure eviscerated Marcus, then vanished (again, using the same teleportation technology that the other necrobots used to appear on the vessel), leaving behind three more flayed ones. Vinu expressed annoyance at being denied a chance to get revenge on the pirate captain, and while I can understand her sentiment to some extent, I was far more concerned with the terrifying implications of this new entity. If even more powerful forms of these necrobots exist, then the Pact Worlds may well be on the verge of an existential threat the likes of the Veskarium Invasion or The Swarm. I did what I could to save some of the video files to my personal device as evidence. As soon as we return to Absalom Station, we will absolutely need to bring this to the Pact’s attention.

Of course, to inform anyone of the threat, we would have to survive it ourselves, a feat more easily said than done. After I diverted some additional power to the ships engines, Vinu and Tibbers did fortunately manage to shunt us out of the Drift, placing us somewhere between Akiton and Absalom. One of the ship’s arms did take some serious damage as a result, though the larger structure remained whole enough to spare us the need for an immediate evacuation. It also gave the necrobots enough time to finish off the remaining pirates in the cargo bay. At this point, I activated the ship’s distress beacon including a warning about the necrobots, just in the small chance that any wandering starship might investigate. I sincerely hope that message does not end up being my last…

With the ship running on minimal energy supplies, our remaining options were to remain in the ship until we are rescued, or to procure the smaller landing craft docked in the cargo bay in the hopes of using it to escape. Activating a self-destruct protocol on the ship would endanger us as well as the surrounding escape pods, and leaving the ship in the necrobot’s hands and/or claws was also not an option, so one way or another we would have to eliminate the remaining creatures. Given that I’ve exhausted much of my magical power, we are all quite tired, and we are severely outnumbered by technologically superior foes, I am deeply concerned about our probabilities of survival. That being said, our track record has actually been quite positive overall, so we do retain a modest chance of success.

Following my previous close encounter of the aggressively snuggly kind I did take note that I possessed a certain personal desire for physical affection. This I attributed to dire circumstances and lack of standard creature comforts in combination with my prolonged exposure to my compatriots and their admittedly very pleasant fur coats, rather than any explicit romantic intentions on anyone’s part. At least, that was my running hypothesis until such a time that I could observe my mental state while in more neutral conditions.

Of course, almost immediately following the conclusion of our previous dire situation we have found ourselves in another. High intensity situations are naturally stimulating and trigger a large number of strong chemical reactions within an organism’s body. If this is maintained for a prolonged period of time, these imbalances can cause a wide variety of unusual behaviours. These behaviours may very well be out of character for the subject in question, or alternatively they may be actons that the subject desired to perform and may now do so when their inhibitions are weaker. It is difficult to determine which of these is truly the case without performing a more thorough neural diagnostic.

Naturally, self-analysis is difficult to conduct objectively, especially when the purpose is to ascertain my levels of objectivity. Perhaps Tibbers would allow me to scan his brain. He’s been fairly cooperative for the most part… No, wait. That would be a strange thing to do.

In any case, it is not so much Tibbers’ sentiments that are the subject of my disconcertion as it is my own. The embrace was a spontaneous and unsolicited action. However, I am having difficulty determining whether I approve. I hardly know enough to judge my overall impression of Tibbers, let alone as a potential romantic candidate. Naturally the circumstances of our encounter and his current profession paint him in a very poor light, though his repeated actions of loyalty, attentiveness, and care for others are not altogether congruous with my initial impression. I am not entirely under the impression that he is a “bad” person. He’s also quite competent with a firearm and not altogether unattractive from a physical perspective, so perhaps…

Still, it is entirely possible that this was a spur of the moment response to heightened excitement and I am reading entirely too deep into this. I don’t even know if the emotions I am currently experiencing are rooted in love, lust, or outright bewilderment.

The first was enhancing my Communalism Graft. I had originally gotten the implant to help me understand the hive-minded societal approach of the Shirren, and how an increased neural connectedness with others might improve collaborative endeavours. I sought to expand that ability to not only apply to myself, but so that I might also confer these benefits to others, who might have a greater need for it in difficult situations.

The second was to improve my ability to dampen spells. Magic is a powerful tool, and should be used responsibly. Though our last mission did not involve much in the way of adversarial arcane forces, I recognise that among our group it is a field in which I am uniquely trained, and so it seemed appropriate to maintain a certain level of expertise in this subject, just in case it were to come up.

The third and last of my studies was to find a new spell that might be of use in combat scenarios. Up until now, I have focused on abilities that mitigate enemy combat capabilities. This is fine while in the presence of my more martially-inclined companions, but I would prefer to be self-sufficient if possible. Still, I did want to retain some level of general utility as well with my magic, so I settled on downloading the parameters for a spell that generates a wall of steam. It has duration, range, and both damage and utility, making it a very multipurpose resource.

During our first encounter with the undead robots on the slaver vessel, I had tested some of these new capabilities. They were still a bit difficult to use effectively, though their potential did become immediately apparent to me. That initial field data was invaluable in helping me with the situations I encountered soon after.

In my last journal entry, I had just begun progressing to the ship’s workshop, which should also contain the armoury. It was situated on the other side of a long corridor. It just so happened that this corridor contained several more of the “Flayed Ones” we encountered earlier. As the rest of the group was preoccupied, I would be dealing with this situation alone, at least for the time it took for the others to rejoin me.

Thankfully, my Wall of Steam spell is well-equipped for putting pressure on a long narrow corridor, and I still had enough magic to manifest it again.

Now, the steam was certainly an effective means of dealing some sustained damage to these creatures. However, their regeneration was also quite rapid, so left alone I would be unable to take them down. Certainly not before they would be able to run through my steam and vivisect me as they had already done to much of the ship’s crew. It was a stroke of good fortune for me then that some of the aforementioned crew in the area had not yet been entirely exterminated. At the far end of the same corridor I had doused with steam was a pair of pirates that were doing their best at holding the flayed ones off.

I suspect that the flayed ones saw these men as the more immediate threat, and that is why they ignored me to pursue them. Personally, I saw no reason to dissuade them from that decision. Perhaps it is a moral failing on my part, but I did not feel especially inclined to actively invite near certain death in order to potentially protect criminals who until moments ago had every intention of selling me into a life of slavery.

While I focused on maintaining my steam, most of our group (including Vari-13 and Tibbers) joined me and provided assistance, mostly in the form of additional firepower. The pirates did eventually succumb to the creatures, but they dealt sufficient damage to temporarily disable some of the flayed ones, while the others remained only barely operational.

The one problem was that without some form of corrosive or explosive damage, their regenerative technology would eventually restore them. Meved was the only one among us with grenades, and he was the one member of our group who had not joined us near the corridor (as I would later learn, he was otherwise preoccupied with a flayed one in the ship’s bathroom). That left only my energy magic as a means to permanently disable these threats. I would only need to hit the creatures once, though hitting them was already difficult, let alone while more of them were approaching to presumably convert me into so many small cubes of organic matter.

Nevertheless, the necessity of the endeavour for our continued survival outweighed the dangers, so I made the decision to risk it. Once I stopped maintaining my steam, I had 24 seconds before it would fully dissipate, during which time I as well as the flayed ones would continue to suffer from the scalding heat. I rushed forward and with Yaro’s support through my Communalism link, I was able to strike one of the flayed ones that was still disabled, causing it to disintegrate.

As expected, the two that were still standing made their way to me, though fortunately they were unable to get close enough to strike just yet. This would have been very bad for me, had it not been for the help of Yaro, Vinu, and Tibbers firing on my pursuers. Their strikes combined with my steam were just enough to disable these machines as well, which allowed me the time needed to carefully apply my acid to them as well.

Thanks in no small part to all of my allies and a couple pirates, my admittedly very dangerous plan was successful. I was able to clear the path to the workshop with only some minor self-inflicted burns. It is in some ways amusing to think that I would never have done something so rash and foolhardy even just a couple weeks ago. Despite not having yet had the opportunity to conduct a psych eval on myself, my hypothesis is that continued exposure to life-threatening situations has deeply affected my ability to conduct risk analysis and has generally improved my focus during fight-or-flight decision making.

Speaking of risks, I had recently been becoming more aware of the dangers one must consider in team-based operations. Splitting up a group can be useful in some circumstances, but also comes with risks, especially if any member of that group is solitary. In my case, I am confident that I only survived due to the presence of the pirates and the swift response of my friends. Meved meanwhile was not afforded these privileges. Perhaps our prior experience in the Stellar Flare had led us to think that Meved is simply undefeatable, but this is not an assumption we ought to make, especially when facing creatures as stubbornly resilient as these. While the rest of us had been preoccupied with clearing a path to the armoury, Meved had sustained serious wounds in his fight.

As soon as we had come to realise the situation, Vari-13, Vinu, and eventually Yaro would return to the washrooms to provide assistance (I was still dealing with the last of the disabled flayed ones at the time, and Tibbers remained to cover me). Fortunately with their support, Meved recovered enough that he and Vinu were able to drop the remaining flayed one, and Meved used a grenade to prevent it from restoring itself. I should note that while I have informed him that grenades are meant to be thrown once activated, Meved still seems to prefer holding onto the devices as they detonate. Perhaps he simply distrusts his ability to throw them accurately and fears wasting what has quickly become one of our most valuable resources. In the event that this is the case, I have taken note to investigate possible alternative distribution methods that might allow for less collateral damage.

Once the immediate threats in our vicinity were cleared, we took a moment to check our surroundings. There was little of note for the most part, save for a couple important discoveries. We first checked the engineering bay to the aft of the ship, finding the ship’s primary systems to be in a rather sorry state, though mercifully lacking in additional mechanised undead activity. Perhaps my recent success had emboldened me, but I immediately took charge of the bay. I suppose the engineers were either too dumbfounded or exasperated to stop me, since none made any real attempts to do so. Either way, I used the computers to divert all power from non-critical systems to stabilise those we would really need. Perhaps it is because of my education with technological systems affording me a greater insight into such matters, but the manner in which they had calibrated their energy outputs was laughably inefficient. Now at least we could remain reasonably confident that we wouldn’t find ourselves depressurised because 20% of the ship’s fuel was being spent operating an unoccupied power armour charging station.

I also took the liberty of disabling their harpoon and gave myself complete administrative access, just to ensure the pirates would not be too much of a problem once the undead robots ceased being the most immediate threat. As Marcus so rudely reminded us, our mutual enemy does not necessarily make us allies.

Our other worthwhile discovery was the escape pods. Surprisingly, Tibbers was the one to suggest we help the prisoners escape before continuing. Furthermore, he offered to stay and support us, instead of making a clean getaway. It is still difficult to say that I trust him completely, but he showed a remarkable understanding of our ethical prerogatives. Perhaps, under the right conditions, rehabilitation is not out of the question. I’ve taken note to observe his behaviour further so as to build a psychological profile. Assuming this was indicative of a genuinely good nature, and not part of a ruse, perhaps I will be able to make a case to the Stewards for leniency once we return to Absalom Station.

After weighing our options, we determined that the safest course of action would be to evacuate the captives from this deathtrap sooner rather than later. This proved fairly simple, as we encountered no opposition. Perhaps we could have escaped as well and left this ship to its fate, though doing so now seemed the wrong course of action. We would either be leaving several people to likely die (even if they are pirates, they do deserve a proper interrogation and trial, not a gruesome death at the claws of horrific undead murder machines), or we would be leaving a group of pirates damaged but otherwise unchecked. Neither outcome seemed ideal given that we had the potential means to stop it. Most importantly however, we still hadn’t found Twitch. After everything we had been through, I had come too far to abandon my precious little drone.

Our next destination was the workshop. The initial reasoning for heading that way was to find something, be it weapons or tools, that might help us deal with the undead machines. Now, there was another factor to consider. Earlier, while I was dealing with the flayed ones in the corridor, I had briefly noticed another creature outside of the ship through the windows. It had the same basic physiological structure as the flayed ones, but seemed to be carrying a rifle of a design I had not seen before. I witnessed it tear through the flesh of a pirate with a single blast of that gun. A week ago the sight surely would have made me lose my lunch on the spot. I’m a bit more acclimated to brutal violence now, but the psychological impact of such a fearsome weapon was still significant. The last I saw of that creature, it had entered through an airlock that to my understanding connected to the workshop.

Sure enough, when we got to our destination, we encountered the gun-wielding machine, as well as another that matched the “flayed one” template we had been growing uncomfortably familiar with. We took on a standard formation for our group, which can be roughly defined as “Meved gets up close and personal at the front and the rest of us support him”. It’s a good thing we had taken the time to prepare ourselves, as the gunner’s weapon was indeed nothing to be trifled with. A single blast only grazed Yaro, but left a sizeable bullet hole in the wall behind him.

Though we have not yet ascertained anything about the culture of these creatures, we can extrapolate some conclusions if we consider known data on various sapient creatures across the pact worlds. Just about every species that developed advanced technology also had a period during which they fought amongst themselves. As such, they will inevitably create weaponry capable of harming their own kind. Offensive measures statistically develop more rapidly than defensive ones, so it’s quite rare for a species to be entirely immune to their own weaponry. If we assume that these creatures followed a similar developmental trajectory, that this would apply to them as well. Perhaps this was the case, or it was simply coincidence, but sure enough when I quickly studied the weapon’s damage profile, it was a mixture of highly corrosive acids conducting a strong current of electric power. This fact was one we could use to our advantage to more reliably address their regenerative properties.

That was the hope at least. As soon as the gunner was disabled, Tibbers made an impressive dash through the combat area to grab and discharge the weapon point blank into the machine. This had the desired effect of completely disabling it, but this triggered yet another measure of theirs. Just as all of the flayed ones we’ve encountered so far have dissipated with alarming speed as soon as they were fully deactivated, so too did this one start to disintegrate. More distressingly, so did its weapon.

My running theory is that this particular phenomenon is a technology they have developed in an effort to prevent their enemies from scavenging or studying them after defeat. It would certainly be a way to deny the enemy precious information and tools, so it would be a logical development for creatures with such a hostile predisposition. Nevertheless, such a phenomenon is not without its countermeasures. Though this particular ability is completely absent from my interplanetary codex, the underlying physical principles at play are universal, and through those I was able to determine roughly a means to negate it. The effect relies on technomagic and can therefore be disabled with something like a strong electromagnetic pulse, or by dispelling the magical energies used in the effect. I may not have an EMP Key like the one we used to gain access to the Stellar Flare, but I do have some limited capacity to disrupt magical energies. As soon as the rifle appeared as though it would start to dissipate, I took action.

The fact that they not only sought to ply their heinous trade on me, but also to do so when I was en route to starting what may well be the greatest scientific endeavour I might ever have the privilege of participating in, did not help to garner them any sympathy.

Nevertheless, when faced with an unknown force of incredibly resilient beings that seem intent only on wholesale slaughter and mutilation of all living things in sight, even the most ardent foes can be made temporary allies. After all, the pirates at least have shown some capacity for communication and empathy.

It was with this in mind that we made a deal with our captive pirate. Tibbers, the pirate in question, would be allowed to accompany and guide us through the ship and assist us against both the unknown aliens and the other slavers. In exchange, we would not feed him to Meved (I mean that metaphorically, mostly). He was amenable to our terms.

In retrospect, I’m thankful that he was. As soon as we proceeded into the next part of the ship, we encountered a group of pirates fighting more of the “Flayed Ones” we had fought in the wreckage of the Stellar Flare. Most of the pirates didn’t survive, but did manage to hold the creatures off for some time while our group did our best to put them down. Once the situation was dire enough for us to give Tibbers a gun, he turned out to be a very good shot. He was also wise enough not to point it at our backs.

That being said, the Flayed Ones were not easy foes. It took a great deal of ammunition and resources on our part to put the creatures down, and even then we needed explosives or acid to keep their regeneration from bringing them back. I have my acid spell at least, and Meved has a few grenades, but beyond that none of us have much in the way of tools that are effective against these creatures.

There was also the matter of one particularly heavily armoured pirate by the name of Marcus. Initially, his heavy firepower was an appreciated tool against the undead robots, but it didn’t take long for him to start firing indiscriminately. Granted, he wasn’t present when we agreed with the slavers to focus on our common enemy, but one would hope he’d at least think not to draw our ire as well in all of this. For a while, I held him off with a wall of scalding steam (which also proved effective in keeping some of the remaining Flayed Ones from fully regenerating), then dropped it in time for our team to get some retribution. It was unfortunately insufficient to stop him (and by extension getting access to his impressive armaments), but at least it got him away from us for a while…

There was a brief lull in the fighting at this point, so we took the opportunity to look around. Vinu checked the fallen pirates for any useful equipment, while Yaro managed to find Vari-13 in a separate holding space. He also found another Flayed One in a separate room.

Meanwhile, I checked the computer room nearby to see if I could find anything useful, but the terminals seemed to be of a purely recreational nature. I made a point to insert some malicious code and leave behind some tracers, just in case these pirates somehow make it out of this situation. I then went to check on the armoury, but barely made it a step into the corridor before yet more Flayed Ones appeared on the opposite end.

I realise that in my rambling, I have neglected to contextualise. This started when our group, consisting of Yaroslav (a vlaka soldier and mystic of Sarenrae), Vinu (a pahtra musician and operative), and Meved (an uplifted bear mercenary and brutal force of nature), was escorting an android named Vari-13 from Akiton to Absalom Station. We had just completed a mission on Akiton, and through a series of coincidences ended up working with Vari to retrieve groundbreaking research on ways to utilise the Drift to generate almost infinite energy. This alone was a rather extraordinary adventure, which I have already documented in full.

While heading back, we heard some reports of ships disappearing under mysterious circumstances. This was concerning to say the least, but without any further details there was little our group could do. Besides, we had also learned that the Iomedaean fleet had sent one of its own vessels to investigate. Our hope was that this matter would be resolved without our involvement in any capacity.

Given my prior statements, I expect that it should come as no surprise that mere moments later, our own vessel would become the next victim. Our ship was struck with a massive tether, and before any of us could so much as hope to mount a defence, our electronics were disabled and the cabin was filled with an incapacitating agent.

When we woke up, we found ourselves in the holding area of a pirate ship, which we learned from our captors would be bound for the Azlanti Empire once it had amassed enough cargo. There is sufficient documentation on the Azlantis that I will not elaborate too much on them here, but I will summarise that as non-Azlantis, our fate should we reach our destination would be to live out our remaining days as slaves. As you might imagine, dear reader, we were not particularly fond of this outcome, and so we set about changing it.

Meved’s prior experience as a ship guard granted him enough familiarity with these types of containment fields to seek out a solution. He wasted no time finding and dismantling the electronics, disabling the force field and leaving the unfortunate guards at his mercy. I should note, for those unfamiliar with my previous reports, that Meved’s mercy typically comes in the form of a slightly swifter death with only a moderate amount of mauling. After several deeply traumatising first hand observations, I can in fact assure that, relative to the alternative, this is indeed merciful.

Vinu’s feline flexibility allowed her the mobility needed to escape her own cell and free Yaro as well, while I used my engineering expertise to disable the field while the guards were distracted. The pirates may have gotten the upper hand with their ambush, but they folded rather quickly this time. We took one pirate captive, retrieved our gear, and freed the other prisoners. Unfortunately, both my drone Twitch and our ward Vari were missing among the gear and prisoners respectively.

We knew that more pirates would soon be upon us, since the alarms were triggered during our fight, so we began preparations for our plan of attack. It’s at roughly this moment that our pirate captive’s communicator alerted us of a breach in the ship.

I should mention at this point that during our adventures on Akiton seeking out the previously mentioned Drift research, we came across a very peculiar creature that did not appear on any of the archives in my xenobiological database. It had the signs of both an undead as well as a technological being and was extremely hostile, very difficult to kill, and overall deeply unsettling. We dubbed it a “Flayed One”, due to its particularly macabre aesthetic. We had no idea how this entity came to be in the wrecked vessel where we discovered it, but signs pointed to it having come from the Drift.

My hypothesis, which my companions shared, was that the pirate ship’s prolonged time in the Drift may have caused these creatures to appear. I sincerely hoped it would be disproven.