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Adventures in the Eastern Provinces
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7582887" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p><em><strong>Tens of Thousands of Years Ago</strong></em></p><p></p><p>“The horrors will be here any day,” says the first technician to the second. “We're too late. All our work...”</p><p></p><p>The second regards her companion. Her large yellow eyes catch the light, her vertical pupils seeming to blaze and scintillate. “It is too late for our people. The Miloxi Empire is fallen. The Yi-Chrechtor and his people- and his horrors- have already won. Have you not heard? He has opened Death's Eye.” </p><p></p><p>The first technician stares at her, aghast.</p><p></p><p>“Yes,” she says. “Our home continent- destroyed. All around it, being destroyed. All the world, destroyed eventually.”</p><p></p><p>“Perhaps our creations...” </p><p></p><p>“They are too few, and have not had enough time to grow in power.” Her tail flicks from side to side and she lets out a soft growl. “No, they cannot save us.” </p><p></p><p>Whiskers quivering, the first technician passes a paw before his face. He lets out a despairing yowl. </p><p></p><p>“But maybe,” the second murmurs.</p><p></p><p>The first stares at her. </p><p></p><p>“Maybe,” she repeats, “someday, they can avenge us. Maybe we can send them to a future where they have a chance to live on after us. We cannot let the only legacy of the Miloxi Empire be a collection of mongrel species upraised from animals and birds. If they even survive without us.”</p><p></p><p>“The Yi-Chrechtor will show them no more mercy than he shows us.”</p><p></p><p>“The tubes,” she says. “The tubes.”</p><p></p><p>He stares at her. “But who will release them?”</p><p></p><p>“Time will release them. Perhaps they will be found by a friendly or curious race.”</p><p></p><p>“It might take centuries!”</p><p></p><p>“Yes. Perhaps even a thousand years or more. Longer, if the horrors overrun everything and no life returns. Maybe even forever.”</p><p></p><p>“But...”</p><p></p><p>“What choice do we have?” she demands. “We have to save <em>something.</em>”</p><p></p><p>Reluctantly, he nods. “All right. I concur. Summon the shardminds.”</p><p></p><p>There are not many of them, these new, strange, inorganic creations. This new form of life. Like a collection of crystals, clumped rather than fused, upright and with a semblance of humanoid form, they are one of the latest wonders produced by the Miloxi Empire's psientists. Yet their race, only a few years old, might now be ended. Their moment might be past already. </p><p></p><p>One by one, the shardminds file past the two technicians, each entering a seperate tube of hardened crystal. The process takes nearly four hours, as many of the shardminds are several hours away at one location or another. When every member of the race has arrived and entered its tube, the two technicians activate a sequence of psionic machines, charging a central u-shaped generator. The generator begins to hum and glow with an eerie silver-green radiance, and slowly the tubes all frost over, losing their transparency as the shardminds enter a state of temporal stasis.</p><p></p><p>“Let us hope for the best.” Grim-faced, the male technician presses a button, and complex machines begin moving the tubes. Banks of a few of them will be placed in different hidden locations throughout the Empire in the hopes that at least a few survive to be revived one day.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The Miloxi Empire falls. The two technicians, along with well over 95% of all the other tabaxi who make up the Miloxi citizenry, die, slain by the horrors they feared.</p><p></p><p>Time passes. First years, then decades, then centuries. </p><p></p><p>Now and again, a shardmind bank is found. If the horrors find it, the shardminds are revived and slain one by one with mechanical efficiency. On three occasions, other creatures find the banks, and on two of them, they revive the shardminds. </p><p></p><p>None of these survive more than two decades. </p><p></p><p>More centuries pass. Then millenia. Things change. Islands sink and rise. Landscapes change. The era of the ascendancy of one type of creature passes into that of another, and then another. Still the remaining few shardminds remain buried in hidden places, far from the eyes of sentient beings. </p><p></p><p>Now and again, a shardmind cache is found, and they are either destroyed or revived and then perish. Over the next 12,000 years, all the remaining shardmind banks are found and dealt with, one way or another, except two. </p><p></p><p>Much later, a chance encounter with green slime leads to the failure of the penultimate bank. </p><p></p><p>Slightly more than two thousand more years pass, and then a colony of hungry xorn eat a hollow in the earth that leads to a collapse that leads to an earthquake. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Today</strong></em></p><p></p><p>There is a loud crack, and suddenly shardmind designate PHUQ-69 becomes aware again. It knows that there was a gap in its consciousness, but has no idea how long that gap was. It has no way of knowing that everything it knew is long gone.</p><p></p><p>But it can see the spiderwebbing cracks on the tube it is enclosed in. </p><p></p><p><em>Something has gone wrong,</em> it thinks. It pushes on the inside of the tube, but it doesn't open or even shift, so the shardmind draws out its <em>resounding morningstar</em> and smashes its way free. Only as the noise of the shattering tube fades does it realize how dark and silent it is. Only a tiny bit of illumination reaches it from a distant crack. </p><p></p><p>PHUQ-69 is highly disoriented, but it can faintly see the row of other tubes next to his. Half are still standing, but cracked, bent, and twisted. The others have been crushed by collapsing rocks. It focuses on the remaining intact tubes, but a thorough examination soon leads it to the gloomy conclusion that it is the sole survivor of this group of shardminds. </p><p></p><p>Grief washes over it.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, our surviving heroes despondantly trudge away from the farm. They have lost a friend, met an enemy, and uncovered the first threads of some sort of terrible plot. It is not the best day that they have ever had. </p><p></p><p>“What next?” asks Shar. “What do we do? How do we find this guy when we don't even know what he's after?”</p><p></p><p>Nobody has a good answer. At least, not now- not in the aftermath of the battle with Quah-Nomag, with the death of Orzza so fresh.</p><p></p><p>They plod along, heading back in the direction of Overland. Some forty minutes into the journey, Alkor squints and points. “What is that?” he exclaims.</p><p></p><p>Something in the distance is glittering in the sunlight. It is reddish-purple in hue, and it seems to be moving.</p><p></p><p>Sepia pulls out her whip, but Karl says, “Hold on. It might be friendly.”</p><p></p><p>“Hail!” cries Alkor. </p><p></p><p>The figure changes direction to come directly toward them. “Is that a humanoid?” Shar wonders.</p><p></p><p>“It looks like it's composed of crystal of some sort,” Karl muses. </p><p></p><p>Sepia paces. </p><p></p><p>The figure halts when it is about 20' from the group. They hear a voice in their head: <em>Hello. I am PHUQ-60. Please direct me to the nearest Miloxi authority.</em></p><p></p><p>Baffled, Shar and Alkor exchange a glance. “The what?”</p><p></p><p><em>The nearest authorities of the Miloxi Empire.</em></p><p></p><p>“I've heard of the Miloxi Empire in my studies,” says Karl, “but it's long gone. It has probably been extinct for more than fifty thousand years.”</p><p></p><p><em>But- but that's impossible. It seems as though it was just a few moments...</em> The strange figure goes still, lights swirling within the crystals that make it up. </p><p></p><p>“Is it just me,” Alkor murmurs, “or does it seem... distressed?”</p><p></p><p>“I think you're right.” Shar steps toward the thing, moving slowly, hands held open and empty before her. “P-69... can I call you P-69?... I'm not sure what you are, but I am the governor of this area. Why don't you come with us for now? You can tell us your story, and we can bring you up to date on the local, er, situation.”</p><p></p><p><em>All right. Thank you.</em></p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The journey home is uneventful, but word is out. The Double Javelins are on the move. </p><p></p><p>“It's time we finished with them,” Kane growls.</p><p></p><p>Shar nods. “I agree. We need to bring them to heel or destroy them once and for all.”</p><p></p><p>“What about our new friend?”</p><p></p><p>She glances over at the shardmind. “So far it seems friendly enough.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, but you'll notice it's armed. So it has all it needs to cause trouble if it wants to.”</p><p></p><p>“Don't you think we could take it?”</p><p></p><p>“Of course!” Kane snarls. </p><p></p><p>“Well, then. We'll see if it wants to come with us.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>P-69 does indeed join the group for their mission, and the party strikes at the Double Javelins' camp while most of them are out raiding. </p><p></p><p>They catch more than they bargained for when an ogre-sized suit of armor with a human fused into a cavity within it steps out of a tent and into view. Weird purple crystals are inset in the armor's shoulders and calves, pulsing with sickly radiance. It is the weapon that they saw some time ago- saw, and got sidetracked from. And clearly, someone volunteered to undergo the ritual for the Double Javelins. </p><p></p><p>It's another of those dog-folk.</p><p></p><p>There are still half a dozen Double Javelins in the camp, as well as a worg. But by using the partially-constructed palisade as cover, the party forces the mercenaries to close to melee, where Kane ruthlessly cuts them down. </p><p></p><p>P-69 proves his mettle here. He's fairly strong, but he is immensely tough and durable. He swings his morningstar into one foe after another. </p><p></p><p>The armor-bound juggernaut is another matter.</p><p></p><p><em>Be careful!</em> the shardmind warns his allies telepathically. <em>That suit doesn't look well-built at all. Those radiocrystals are dangerous.</em></p><p></p><p>“What? You know what those things are?” Sepia demands.</p><p></p><p><em>Yes, of course. Don't you?</em> </p><p></p><p>“Save it for later,” Shar barks. “We're fighting!”</p><p></p><p><em>Yes. Let's destroy that canus!</em></p><p></p><p>“Wait,” Sepia says. “You know what the dog folk are, too?”</p><p></p><p>“Later!” Kane roars, stabbing the canus. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>It takes a tremendous amount of effort to bring the canus down. Before they do, he triggers a radioactive burst that leaves all of them feeling as if something bad has happened to them- as if they have been, in some way, tainted by the energy.*</p><p></p><p>After they search the camp- taking some 1200 gold pieces in loot, along with what proves to be an <em>orb or reversed polarities</em>- they discuss destroying the armor. It is certain that none of them want to be bound to it; the canus and the armor are interwoven by metal cables and rods, and it looks really unpleasant. </p><p></p><p><em>Destroying the radiocrystals could have severe consequences,</em> P-69 tells them. <em>You guys really don't know anything about radiocrystals here, do you?</em></p><p></p><p>The group agrees that no, they don't. </p><p></p><p><em>In my time, they powered the wonders of the Miloxi Empire. But if used improperly-</em> it gestures at the armor- <em>it can have disastrous consequences. It can cause sickness or death. It can deform any young you have later or render you sterile.</em></p><p></p><p>“Why would you even use it, then?” asks Sepia, shaking her head. </p><p></p><p>“Power,” Shar guesses. </p><p></p><p><em>I don't know,</em> P-69 admits. <em>I've never really thought about it before.</em></p><p></p><p>“But you've been around for a long time, right?” Karl asks. “You're ancient.”</p><p></p><p><em>No, I'm six.</em></p><p></p><p>“You're what?”</p><p></p><p><em>Six. Six years old. The rest of the time, I was in stasis.</em></p><p></p><p>Nobody is quite sure what to say to that.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> An easy answer to what to do with the armor!</p><p></p><p>*Everyone gained 1 RAD, which stays with you forever. Accumulate too many RADs and... well, you could sicken and die... or maybe even mutate, old school Gamma World style.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 7582887, member: 1210"] [i][b]Tens of Thousands of Years Ago[/b][/i][b][/b] “The horrors will be here any day,” says the first technician to the second. “We're too late. All our work...” The second regards her companion. Her large yellow eyes catch the light, her vertical pupils seeming to blaze and scintillate. “It is too late for our people. The Miloxi Empire is fallen. The Yi-Chrechtor and his people- and his horrors- have already won. Have you not heard? He has opened Death's Eye.” The first technician stares at her, aghast. “Yes,” she says. “Our home continent- destroyed. All around it, being destroyed. All the world, destroyed eventually.” “Perhaps our creations...” “They are too few, and have not had enough time to grow in power.” Her tail flicks from side to side and she lets out a soft growl. “No, they cannot save us.” Whiskers quivering, the first technician passes a paw before his face. He lets out a despairing yowl. “But maybe,” the second murmurs. The first stares at her. “Maybe,” she repeats, “someday, they can avenge us. Maybe we can send them to a future where they have a chance to live on after us. We cannot let the only legacy of the Miloxi Empire be a collection of mongrel species upraised from animals and birds. If they even survive without us.” “The Yi-Chrechtor will show them no more mercy than he shows us.” “The tubes,” she says. “The tubes.” He stares at her. “But who will release them?” “Time will release them. Perhaps they will be found by a friendly or curious race.” “It might take centuries!” “Yes. Perhaps even a thousand years or more. Longer, if the horrors overrun everything and no life returns. Maybe even forever.” “But...” “What choice do we have?” she demands. “We have to save [i]something.[/i]” Reluctantly, he nods. “All right. I concur. Summon the shardminds.” There are not many of them, these new, strange, inorganic creations. This new form of life. Like a collection of crystals, clumped rather than fused, upright and with a semblance of humanoid form, they are one of the latest wonders produced by the Miloxi Empire's psientists. Yet their race, only a few years old, might now be ended. Their moment might be past already. One by one, the shardminds file past the two technicians, each entering a seperate tube of hardened crystal. The process takes nearly four hours, as many of the shardminds are several hours away at one location or another. When every member of the race has arrived and entered its tube, the two technicians activate a sequence of psionic machines, charging a central u-shaped generator. The generator begins to hum and glow with an eerie silver-green radiance, and slowly the tubes all frost over, losing their transparency as the shardminds enter a state of temporal stasis. “Let us hope for the best.” Grim-faced, the male technician presses a button, and complex machines begin moving the tubes. Banks of a few of them will be placed in different hidden locations throughout the Empire in the hopes that at least a few survive to be revived one day. *** The Miloxi Empire falls. The two technicians, along with well over 95% of all the other tabaxi who make up the Miloxi citizenry, die, slain by the horrors they feared. Time passes. First years, then decades, then centuries. Now and again, a shardmind bank is found. If the horrors find it, the shardminds are revived and slain one by one with mechanical efficiency. On three occasions, other creatures find the banks, and on two of them, they revive the shardminds. None of these survive more than two decades. More centuries pass. Then millenia. Things change. Islands sink and rise. Landscapes change. The era of the ascendancy of one type of creature passes into that of another, and then another. Still the remaining few shardminds remain buried in hidden places, far from the eyes of sentient beings. Now and again, a shardmind cache is found, and they are either destroyed or revived and then perish. Over the next 12,000 years, all the remaining shardmind banks are found and dealt with, one way or another, except two. Much later, a chance encounter with green slime leads to the failure of the penultimate bank. Slightly more than two thousand more years pass, and then a colony of hungry xorn eat a hollow in the earth that leads to a collapse that leads to an earthquake. *** [i][b]Today[/b][/i][b][/b] There is a loud crack, and suddenly shardmind designate PHUQ-69 becomes aware again. It knows that there was a gap in its consciousness, but has no idea how long that gap was. It has no way of knowing that everything it knew is long gone. But it can see the spiderwebbing cracks on the tube it is enclosed in. [i]Something has gone wrong,[/i] it thinks. It pushes on the inside of the tube, but it doesn't open or even shift, so the shardmind draws out its [i]resounding morningstar[/i] and smashes its way free. Only as the noise of the shattering tube fades does it realize how dark and silent it is. Only a tiny bit of illumination reaches it from a distant crack. PHUQ-69 is highly disoriented, but it can faintly see the row of other tubes next to his. Half are still standing, but cracked, bent, and twisted. The others have been crushed by collapsing rocks. It focuses on the remaining intact tubes, but a thorough examination soon leads it to the gloomy conclusion that it is the sole survivor of this group of shardminds. Grief washes over it. *** Meanwhile, our surviving heroes despondantly trudge away from the farm. They have lost a friend, met an enemy, and uncovered the first threads of some sort of terrible plot. It is not the best day that they have ever had. “What next?” asks Shar. “What do we do? How do we find this guy when we don't even know what he's after?” Nobody has a good answer. At least, not now- not in the aftermath of the battle with Quah-Nomag, with the death of Orzza so fresh. They plod along, heading back in the direction of Overland. Some forty minutes into the journey, Alkor squints and points. “What is that?” he exclaims. Something in the distance is glittering in the sunlight. It is reddish-purple in hue, and it seems to be moving. Sepia pulls out her whip, but Karl says, “Hold on. It might be friendly.” “Hail!” cries Alkor. The figure changes direction to come directly toward them. “Is that a humanoid?” Shar wonders. “It looks like it's composed of crystal of some sort,” Karl muses. Sepia paces. The figure halts when it is about 20' from the group. They hear a voice in their head: [i]Hello. I am PHUQ-60. Please direct me to the nearest Miloxi authority.[/i] Baffled, Shar and Alkor exchange a glance. “The what?” [i]The nearest authorities of the Miloxi Empire.[/i] “I've heard of the Miloxi Empire in my studies,” says Karl, “but it's long gone. It has probably been extinct for more than fifty thousand years.” [i]But- but that's impossible. It seems as though it was just a few moments...[/i] The strange figure goes still, lights swirling within the crystals that make it up. “Is it just me,” Alkor murmurs, “or does it seem... distressed?” “I think you're right.” Shar steps toward the thing, moving slowly, hands held open and empty before her. “P-69... can I call you P-69?... I'm not sure what you are, but I am the governor of this area. Why don't you come with us for now? You can tell us your story, and we can bring you up to date on the local, er, situation.” [i]All right. Thank you.[/i] *** The journey home is uneventful, but word is out. The Double Javelins are on the move. “It's time we finished with them,” Kane growls. Shar nods. “I agree. We need to bring them to heel or destroy them once and for all.” “What about our new friend?” She glances over at the shardmind. “So far it seems friendly enough.” “Yes, but you'll notice it's armed. So it has all it needs to cause trouble if it wants to.” “Don't you think we could take it?” “Of course!” Kane snarls. “Well, then. We'll see if it wants to come with us.” *** P-69 does indeed join the group for their mission, and the party strikes at the Double Javelins' camp while most of them are out raiding. They catch more than they bargained for when an ogre-sized suit of armor with a human fused into a cavity within it steps out of a tent and into view. Weird purple crystals are inset in the armor's shoulders and calves, pulsing with sickly radiance. It is the weapon that they saw some time ago- saw, and got sidetracked from. And clearly, someone volunteered to undergo the ritual for the Double Javelins. It's another of those dog-folk. There are still half a dozen Double Javelins in the camp, as well as a worg. But by using the partially-constructed palisade as cover, the party forces the mercenaries to close to melee, where Kane ruthlessly cuts them down. P-69 proves his mettle here. He's fairly strong, but he is immensely tough and durable. He swings his morningstar into one foe after another. The armor-bound juggernaut is another matter. [i]Be careful![/i] the shardmind warns his allies telepathically. [i]That suit doesn't look well-built at all. Those radiocrystals are dangerous.[/i] “What? You know what those things are?” Sepia demands. [i]Yes, of course. Don't you?[/i] “Save it for later,” Shar barks. “We're fighting!” [i]Yes. Let's destroy that canus![/i] “Wait,” Sepia says. “You know what the dog folk are, too?” “Later!” Kane roars, stabbing the canus. *** It takes a tremendous amount of effort to bring the canus down. Before they do, he triggers a radioactive burst that leaves all of them feeling as if something bad has happened to them- as if they have been, in some way, tainted by the energy.* After they search the camp- taking some 1200 gold pieces in loot, along with what proves to be an [i]orb or reversed polarities[/i]- they discuss destroying the armor. It is certain that none of them want to be bound to it; the canus and the armor are interwoven by metal cables and rods, and it looks really unpleasant. [i]Destroying the radiocrystals could have severe consequences,[/i] P-69 tells them. [i]You guys really don't know anything about radiocrystals here, do you?[/i] The group agrees that no, they don't. [i]In my time, they powered the wonders of the Miloxi Empire. But if used improperly-[/i] it gestures at the armor- [i]it can have disastrous consequences. It can cause sickness or death. It can deform any young you have later or render you sterile.[/i] “Why would you even use it, then?” asks Sepia, shaking her head. “Power,” Shar guesses. [i]I don't know,[/i] P-69 admits. [i]I've never really thought about it before.[/i] “But you've been around for a long time, right?” Karl asks. “You're ancient.” [i]No, I'm six.[/i] “You're what?” [i]Six. Six years old. The rest of the time, I was in stasis.[/i] Nobody is quite sure what to say to that. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] An easy answer to what to do with the armor! *Everyone gained 1 RAD, which stays with you forever. Accumulate too many RADs and... well, you could sicken and die... or maybe even mutate, old school Gamma World style. [/QUOTE]
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