Meeting Methuselah
There she sat in the middle is the sleeziest, roughest bar in town, just as the fixer said. She looked absolutly ancient. Her crinkled and gnarled skin was so thin and so frail that she would have been better off getting rid of it and wrapping her bones in rice paper. Every vein and artery in her body could be seen with the naked eye and I suspected that one could shine a flashlight right through her. There was not a muscle to be seen on her and it was obvious just by looking that her bones had been broken many times and failed to set peroperly on quite a few occasions.
Despite her frail body, there was something in her cold grey eyes that that told me she was the most dangerous person in this room. Others must have seen it too because, while the bar was packed with customers, there was zone of empty space around her where no patron dared to tread. Everyone went out of their way to avoid her table, even the thugs who I knew from experience would be happy to mug a little old lady in front of witnesses.
As I aproached her table I felt this strange foreboding and found it difficult to breath, like a elephant was sitting on my chest. A wave as nausea passed through me and I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance. My final stumbling made enough noise to get the hag's attention. She flashed my a toothless smile and all of my symptoms faded away. "Sit, please", she motoned towards a chair with her withered hand. I complied.
"You are a shadowrunner", it was half statement and half question
"Yes, I replied"
"Then let us get down to business." Her voice was as frail and as pittiful as the rest of her. It creeked like a rusty hinge and it grated like nails on a chalk board.
"Several thousand years ago, Gilgamesh was king of Uruk." I didn't have time for history lessons.
"There is a point to this story, just listen." I didn't think my impatience was that obvious. I know it wasn't. I had on my best poker face, I always do when meeting Johnsons.
"Several thousand years ago, Gilgamesh was the king of Uruk. He was a terrible king. He started countless wars and he won every one but countless young men died on his battlefiends. Worse, while his soldiers were away fighting he had his way with their wives and their daughters. Everyone chaffed under his tyrany but no one dared stand agaisnt him for he was only 1/3 man and 2/3 god. Instead, they prayed to their gods for salvation. They got Enkidu.
Enkidu was king of the beasts but a prostitute lead him into the city where he challenged Gilgamesh to combat and almost won. After their contest the two became best friends and Enkidu tempered Gilgamesh's lusts. Gilgamesh no longer sent boys off to war and for the first time in his reign virgins girls were safe from the king's predadation.
The two went on great adventures together and conqured the terrible Humbaba. Yet, they could not conquer disease. Enkidu feel ill and died.
Gilgamesh's grief turned to fear of his own mortaility so he sought to become eternal. He crossed the great Ocean-River wich sourrounds the material world to find Utnapishtim, whom the gods had granted freedom from death. Utnapishtim ageed to allow Gilgamesh to stay with him in the place where death has no sway if he could simply stay awake during his visit, but Gilgamesh failed this test. Utnapishtim's wife had pitty for Gilgamesh as so told him of a flower that can make the old young again. I was not immortality but it was a few more years. Gilgamesh found this flower and naed it. ' The Old Man Becomes a Young Man'. It intended to bring it back to Uruk and share it with everyone. But, on his return journy he let it out of his sight for just a moment and it was consumed by a snake. This is why snakes shed their skin, they say.
I am old. I am so old that medicine can do noththing for me. Not even leonization works. This flower, 'The Old Man Becomes a Young Man', it could work. It is my last hope. I know it exists somewhere, but I do not know where. This is why you are here. If you being me this flower I shall give you 100 certified cerdsticks containing 10,000 nuyen each. One million nuyen certified. If you incur expenses in the course of the search my acountants shall pay them, you need only to ask. I won't blame you if you turn this down, many others have."
Full Version: The Epic of Gilgamesh
Hurray for metaplanar quests.
hmm nice, and makes me think that the runner will be looking for a rose in a crystal box...
Growing in Marianas trench was my intent. In the epic, Gilgamesh weighted himself down with rocks and found it at the bottom of the ocean. Being two-thirds god, he didn't need any fancy diving equipment. Being mere mortals, the runners aren't so lucky.
It is a good thing that The Hag offered to pay expenses. Submarines and diving hardsuits aren't cheap. Can you say running submarine battle with murtant Levithians? Can you say alien spirits of the deep? "Hey, the magician just clawed his eyes out."
Of course, finding the exact location requires a metaplanar quest to find Utnapishtim the Faraway which in turn requires battling Hunbaba of the Seven Terrors in an old-world cedar forrest, among other things. And then there is the finale where Mr Y shows up.
Three guesses as to who The Hag is and what Earthdawn sourcebook she is featured in. 50 karma for a correct answer.
It is a good thing that The Hag offered to pay expenses. Submarines and diving hardsuits aren't cheap. Can you say running submarine battle with murtant Levithians? Can you say alien spirits of the deep? "Hey, the magician just clawed his eyes out."
Of course, finding the exact location requires a metaplanar quest to find Utnapishtim the Faraway which in turn requires battling Hunbaba of the Seven Terrors in an old-world cedar forrest, among other things. And then there is the finale where Mr Y shows up.
Three guesses as to who The Hag is and what Earthdawn sourcebook she is featured in. 50 karma for a correct answer.
I guess one of my PC's would excel on this run. A seal shapeshifter who summons water spirits to remove diving dangers 
. Who needs a dive-suit? Puny meta's, that's who.
But then again, his sever phobia of sharks would certainly play itself out with an evil GM at the helm...
Another note, would a read skill of Sanskrit be useful for the quest?
. Who needs a dive-suit? Puny meta's, that's who.But then again, his sever phobia of sharks would certainly play itself out with an evil GM at the helm...
Another note, would a read skill of Sanskrit be useful for the quest?
I've used the Epic of Gilgamesh in my game before, and actually continue to (that is, I've got more stuff planned for later). Specifically the bits about the fight with Humbaba in the forest of the Gods. The PC's had to take down the demon while it was rampaging through Toronto after awakening in 2065 to discover the forest it had protected was looong gone.
Edit: I wouldn't think sanskrit would be useful unless you were digging up any similar legends from India. You want ancient mesopotamian, possibly babylonian (for the more recent accounts of the epic). Any cuneiform language would help, but those are your best bets.
Edit: I wouldn't think sanskrit would be useful unless you were digging up any similar legends from India. You want ancient mesopotamian, possibly babylonian (for the more recent accounts of the epic). Any cuneiform language would help, but those are your best bets.
Realy nice told! Will make an excellent champign, too, I think.
The fight against the hag in the end may be great, if some PC (most likely an Ork) decides to keep the Flower for himselfe and/or his loved ones.
Would allso be quiet a shock if the hag just destroys the flower (if it is a unicate), so nobody can have it, cuz shi was something else. Maybe a free spirit, dragon in disguise or most fitting a master shedime (they surely don´t want humans to never die of old age), or maybe just the representative of a corp thats making its money with leonisation (EVO, UniOmni, Yakashima (the last ones don´t like Orks either, which would get most out of it). Allso, Lofwyr was involved in "the forever drug" and destroid it ore something (don´t know never read it).
The fight against the hag in the end may be great, if some PC (most likely an Ork) decides to keep the Flower for himselfe and/or his loved ones.
Would allso be quiet a shock if the hag just destroys the flower (if it is a unicate), so nobody can have it, cuz shi was something else. Maybe a free spirit, dragon in disguise or most fitting a master shedime (they surely don´t want humans to never die of old age), or maybe just the representative of a corp thats making its money with leonisation (EVO, UniOmni, Yakashima (the last ones don´t like Orks either, which would get most out of it). Allso, Lofwyr was involved in "the forever drug" and destroid it ore something (don´t know never read it).
Chapter 2
The Terror of Humbaba
It took me three weeks and thirty-thousand nuyen to get to this dead forest. I hit up every academic I know for information about Gilgamesh and the area he was from. After sifting through mountains of drek from friends of friends of friends I actually hit on someone who knew something useful, a location.
The hag was good to her word. He expenses have been covered without hastle. She must be desperate because her acountent didn't even ask for itemized reports. I just gave the ammount and that was it. For all she know I'm wiping my hoop with her nuyen; Maybe that would be more productive than this fool's errand.
The forest is still and quite. It was once thriving and alive. Now, it is just a thick corps of rocklike fossils. I have to wonder if magic is at work here. It should take longer than a few thousand years to fosilize a forest like this. I say something about it to Mr. Wizard. He just replies that nothing is being sustained. The place is errily still and the twisted stone branches cast monsterous shadows that seem almost alive and hungry. I shouldn't be here.
Mr. Wizard stoped. He knows something. I can see it because he's a magician. Its a monster that's going to eat us.... Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Fra-
________________________________________
I took of running as fast as I could I must have got have a mile before a tripped and cracked my knee. Even then, I limp away as fast as I could. I knew that I would die if I stopped moving. I knew it. Then I didn't. There was nothing chasing me. I was in danger, but it was because I was lost and injured. If I kept moving I would just make things worse on both accounts.
I radioed Mr. Wizard and sat, waiting for him to find me. As I sat it dawned on me how much my knee hurt . . . and how much I needed to change my pants.
_________________________________________
When Mr. Wizard found me he explained that the spirit we were looking for had the fear power. I told me that it wasn't my fault and that I couldn't have done anything different that I had. He was condenscending, like being a mundane is equivilant to being a child.
He used his mojo on my leg and I was able to walk again. We set off to where Humbaba was waiting.
___________________________________________
When we arrived at the clearing the giant monster was waiting for us but it wasn't ready to attack. It was sobbing and wailing. It was begging us not to hurt it. This giant spirit, powerful enough to rip giant cedars from their roots and use them as javelins, able to call down storms, immune to bullets, and that made me literally drek my pants, was crying like a baby.
According to the Epic, Humbaba was a coward but I didn't expect this. Whatever Mr. Wizard had done it must have been impressive.
We reached a deal with Humbaba. In exchange for its life, it would point us in the right direction.
The Terror of Humbaba
It took me three weeks and thirty-thousand nuyen to get to this dead forest. I hit up every academic I know for information about Gilgamesh and the area he was from. After sifting through mountains of drek from friends of friends of friends I actually hit on someone who knew something useful, a location.
The hag was good to her word. He expenses have been covered without hastle. She must be desperate because her acountent didn't even ask for itemized reports. I just gave the ammount and that was it. For all she know I'm wiping my hoop with her nuyen; Maybe that would be more productive than this fool's errand.
The forest is still and quite. It was once thriving and alive. Now, it is just a thick corps of rocklike fossils. I have to wonder if magic is at work here. It should take longer than a few thousand years to fosilize a forest like this. I say something about it to Mr. Wizard. He just replies that nothing is being sustained. The place is errily still and the twisted stone branches cast monsterous shadows that seem almost alive and hungry. I shouldn't be here.
Mr. Wizard stoped. He knows something. I can see it because he's a magician. Its a monster that's going to eat us.... Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Frag Oh Fra-
________________________________________
I took of running as fast as I could I must have got have a mile before a tripped and cracked my knee. Even then, I limp away as fast as I could. I knew that I would die if I stopped moving. I knew it. Then I didn't. There was nothing chasing me. I was in danger, but it was because I was lost and injured. If I kept moving I would just make things worse on both accounts.
I radioed Mr. Wizard and sat, waiting for him to find me. As I sat it dawned on me how much my knee hurt . . . and how much I needed to change my pants.
_________________________________________
When Mr. Wizard found me he explained that the spirit we were looking for had the fear power. I told me that it wasn't my fault and that I couldn't have done anything different that I had. He was condenscending, like being a mundane is equivilant to being a child.
He used his mojo on my leg and I was able to walk again. We set off to where Humbaba was waiting.
___________________________________________
When we arrived at the clearing the giant monster was waiting for us but it wasn't ready to attack. It was sobbing and wailing. It was begging us not to hurt it. This giant spirit, powerful enough to rip giant cedars from their roots and use them as javelins, able to call down storms, immune to bullets, and that made me literally drek my pants, was crying like a baby.
According to the Epic, Humbaba was a coward but I didn't expect this. Whatever Mr. Wizard had done it must have been impressive.
We reached a deal with Humbaba. In exchange for its life, it would point us in the right direction.
Nice followup.
Lordy, we have so many talented writers on dumpshock. Who needs to buy a novel? I just wait for posts like this one.
I think that Ryan Mercury would be less hated if there were a canon shortstory in which he has to shop for new pants during a run after failing to resist the Fear power.
The Eternal Land Beyond the River
When I asked Mr. Wizard what astral projection is like he told me that it is the most freeing experience in the world; Yeah, about as freeing as an EX-EX round to each lung and slightly less pleasent. My advice to all my fellow mundanes out there ... if someone tries to convince you that having your soul ripped out of your body and tossed around like a rag doll will be fun, shoot the motherfragger in the face.
Humbaba tore my soul out and led us into the metaplanes. Mr. Wizard warned me about something called the Dweller on the Threshold. I didn't see it. I don't know if Humbaba kept it away or if we were just so far off the beaten path that it missed us.
Humbaba stoped at the edge of a vast river and left us to fend for ourselves. There was a small wooden dock nearby with a paddlewheel boat moored to it. In front of the dock was a log cabin. While Mr. Wizard was examining the place I knocked on the door. I could tell that pissed him off. Poor mundane me did something without asking.
"Come in". It was a man's voice. I checked the safety on my predator before opening the door. Then I wondered what the hell my predator was doing here with me. Inside the cabin was a wall tanned human in Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt eating a sandwich.
"What can Urshanabi do for you today?"
"Honorable Urshanabi, we request passage across the river of death to the place of Utnapishtim the faraway", Mr. Wizard says in his usual Gandolf-wannabe way.
"Kid, I only ferry the dead. You aren't dead ... yet", Urshanabi examines Wizard's face closely. I reach toward my gun. "But maybe I can make an exception seeing as how you've sent so many clients my way. You're such a talanted murderer that you were able to kill your own mommy while you were still inside her. That takes something special so I can make an exception, for a price."
Mr. Wizard produced a silver coin from his coat pocket and presented it to the ferryman. "I trust this will be sufficient."
"For you, certainly", Urshinabi sneered, "But what about your panty-wearing friend.
"In exchange for safe passage across and back, I'll give you the greatest gift any man can give another", I said.
"Yes?"
"I won't break every bone in your motherfragging body, steal your ferry, and leave you for the vultures."
"Fair enough." The Dweller and I had come to terms.
The paddlewheel boat was powered by a small stone steam furnace. Since we refrained from breaking it as Gilgamesh did the trip was quick and uneventful.
______________________________________________________________________
The shore of Utnapishtim's hideaway was both the most beautiful shore that I had ever seen and the most ugly shore I had ever seen. The sand was a brilliant golden hue and beyond it was the greenest grass. Even the black waters of death took on a soothing hue when they touched this land. Yet, everything had this plastic quality; it was all too perfect. The sand was not disturbed when we walked across it. The grass did not bend under out weight. This place was eternal and unchanging just like its inhabitants.
Utnapishtim was not happy when he saw us. He shouldn't have been. This is a place of the gods where mortals are not meant to tread without special dispensation. Surely, if the Mesopotamian deities were still around they would not be happy with our intrustion into this eden. Yet, Utnapishtim was an old world gentleman with old world sensabilities. The laws of hospitality demanded that he offer us food, shelter, and comfort so he invited us into his home.
We sat in Utnapishtim's home and his wife offered us some bread and water. Mr. Wizard politely refused. This was probably the safest course of action. On enever knows what sort of effects such non existant food could have. In some myths, eating the food of hell dooms one to stay there. But this wasn't hell. This was a paradise of the gods. Turning down Utnapishtim's hospitality would be offensive. This risk of angering him and losing our only lead was far greater than the risk posed by the food. I accpted humbly and ate as Mr. Wizard talked.
Mr. Wizard tried to explain our quest to Mr and Mrs Utnapishtim. I'm not sure how well he did because I tuned him out the second "verily" was ushered from his lips. Who the frag says "verily"? Instead, I surveyed our suroundings looking for clues, information, and signs of danger.
The cedar cabin wasn't small; it was cozy. The main living area was carpeted with animal skin. Off to the size was a beeautiful wooden bed with a matress that was adorned with the finest silk. In one corner there was a stove and a table to dine on. There was a fire in the stove but it did not consume its fuel like everything else in this place it was eternal.
Through a window I could see rows of grain, probably the source of flower for their bread.
"It must be boring as frag here." Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. "According to the story Gilgamesh fell asleep here and didn't wake up for a week. Now, Gilgamesh is two-thirds god; he isn't the kind of person to fall asleep just because he is tired. He must have been bored out of his fraggin' skull. "
They were not please with my outburst.
"I mean, just look at this place. You've got a nice stove, a fireplace, a table, some chairs, and a very comfortable bed. It is very cozy, I'm sure. It must have been very romantic for the first thousand years."
They're even more perturbed at this point.
"But you've been here for about four or five thousand years Earth time. Mr. Wizard tells me that time in the metaplanes flows differently, that a century here can take only a second on Earth. How long is that?"
"An Eternity...", Mrs. Utnapsihtim speaks.
"An Eternity. I sure the sex is amazing. You've probably invented some wild positions. And the breadbaking must be fun, too. But wouldn't you like to do something else, to go out and see the world? If you give us this information we will take you back with us. I'll let you stay at my apartment. I have free pay-per-feel simsense and a 62 inch ultra-def trid."
"That is impossible," Utnapishtim declares with regret, "we left our physical bodies behind long ago.
"We'll just clone you new ones then."
"Clone?" The inquiry came from Mrs. Utnapishtam
Yeah, we just grow a new body for you in a vat and then we'll find some way to stuff you into it.
Mr Wizard shot me a look. He didn't like that at all.
I spent the better part of 12 hours or one onetrillionith of a second, depending on your point of view, explaining the wonders of the sixth world to them. When all was said and done they agreed. Mr. Wizard would return to retrive them when their bodies were completed. They would give us the location when they were successfully enfleshed.
Mr. Wizard did not voice his objections untill safely returned to the real world. He had that much sense.
"You can't just stuff an astral form into a body. It doesn't work like that. They'll probably just die." He admonished me.
"You weren't getting anywhere. We had to give them something that an immortal would want. Love and freedom are the only things that fit that description and they already have love. If it doesn't work we won't have lost anything. This is our one and only shot."
The argument was over but he had to have a parting shot, "You shouldn't meddle in things that you don't understand."
"Neither should you."
___________________________________________________________________
I won't bore you with the details of the cloning process. If you want them slot the file labeled Apendix C. We were able to get the equipment and the doctors through legit channels using The Hag's resources. There were some complications with the implantation but we were able to get emergency assistance. The last time I saw Mr. and Mrs. Utnapishtim they were sitting on my couch watching the weather channel with total fascination. They also looked remarkably like Euphoria and Razor from that old sim.
I learned two things that night. First,it isn't easy to stuff an astral form into a random cloned body. Second, you can get licensed cybermancers to make a house call on two hours notice for only six-hundred-thousand nuyen but you have to provide the sacrifices.
The Eternal Land Beyond the River
When I asked Mr. Wizard what astral projection is like he told me that it is the most freeing experience in the world; Yeah, about as freeing as an EX-EX round to each lung and slightly less pleasent. My advice to all my fellow mundanes out there ... if someone tries to convince you that having your soul ripped out of your body and tossed around like a rag doll will be fun, shoot the motherfragger in the face.
Humbaba tore my soul out and led us into the metaplanes. Mr. Wizard warned me about something called the Dweller on the Threshold. I didn't see it. I don't know if Humbaba kept it away or if we were just so far off the beaten path that it missed us.
Humbaba stoped at the edge of a vast river and left us to fend for ourselves. There was a small wooden dock nearby with a paddlewheel boat moored to it. In front of the dock was a log cabin. While Mr. Wizard was examining the place I knocked on the door. I could tell that pissed him off. Poor mundane me did something without asking.
"Come in". It was a man's voice. I checked the safety on my predator before opening the door. Then I wondered what the hell my predator was doing here with me. Inside the cabin was a wall tanned human in Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt eating a sandwich.
"What can Urshanabi do for you today?"
"Honorable Urshanabi, we request passage across the river of death to the place of Utnapishtim the faraway", Mr. Wizard says in his usual Gandolf-wannabe way.
"Kid, I only ferry the dead. You aren't dead ... yet", Urshanabi examines Wizard's face closely. I reach toward my gun. "But maybe I can make an exception seeing as how you've sent so many clients my way. You're such a talanted murderer that you were able to kill your own mommy while you were still inside her. That takes something special so I can make an exception, for a price."
Mr. Wizard produced a silver coin from his coat pocket and presented it to the ferryman. "I trust this will be sufficient."
"For you, certainly", Urshinabi sneered, "But what about your panty-wearing friend.
"In exchange for safe passage across and back, I'll give you the greatest gift any man can give another", I said.
"Yes?"
"I won't break every bone in your motherfragging body, steal your ferry, and leave you for the vultures."
"Fair enough." The Dweller and I had come to terms.
The paddlewheel boat was powered by a small stone steam furnace. Since we refrained from breaking it as Gilgamesh did the trip was quick and uneventful.
______________________________________________________________________
The shore of Utnapishtim's hideaway was both the most beautiful shore that I had ever seen and the most ugly shore I had ever seen. The sand was a brilliant golden hue and beyond it was the greenest grass. Even the black waters of death took on a soothing hue when they touched this land. Yet, everything had this plastic quality; it was all too perfect. The sand was not disturbed when we walked across it. The grass did not bend under out weight. This place was eternal and unchanging just like its inhabitants.
Utnapishtim was not happy when he saw us. He shouldn't have been. This is a place of the gods where mortals are not meant to tread without special dispensation. Surely, if the Mesopotamian deities were still around they would not be happy with our intrustion into this eden. Yet, Utnapishtim was an old world gentleman with old world sensabilities. The laws of hospitality demanded that he offer us food, shelter, and comfort so he invited us into his home.
We sat in Utnapishtim's home and his wife offered us some bread and water. Mr. Wizard politely refused. This was probably the safest course of action. On enever knows what sort of effects such non existant food could have. In some myths, eating the food of hell dooms one to stay there. But this wasn't hell. This was a paradise of the gods. Turning down Utnapishtim's hospitality would be offensive. This risk of angering him and losing our only lead was far greater than the risk posed by the food. I accpted humbly and ate as Mr. Wizard talked.
Mr. Wizard tried to explain our quest to Mr and Mrs Utnapishtim. I'm not sure how well he did because I tuned him out the second "verily" was ushered from his lips. Who the frag says "verily"? Instead, I surveyed our suroundings looking for clues, information, and signs of danger.
The cedar cabin wasn't small; it was cozy. The main living area was carpeted with animal skin. Off to the size was a beeautiful wooden bed with a matress that was adorned with the finest silk. In one corner there was a stove and a table to dine on. There was a fire in the stove but it did not consume its fuel like everything else in this place it was eternal.
Through a window I could see rows of grain, probably the source of flower for their bread.
"It must be boring as frag here." Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. "According to the story Gilgamesh fell asleep here and didn't wake up for a week. Now, Gilgamesh is two-thirds god; he isn't the kind of person to fall asleep just because he is tired. He must have been bored out of his fraggin' skull. "
They were not please with my outburst.
"I mean, just look at this place. You've got a nice stove, a fireplace, a table, some chairs, and a very comfortable bed. It is very cozy, I'm sure. It must have been very romantic for the first thousand years."
They're even more perturbed at this point.
"But you've been here for about four or five thousand years Earth time. Mr. Wizard tells me that time in the metaplanes flows differently, that a century here can take only a second on Earth. How long is that?"
"An Eternity...", Mrs. Utnapsihtim speaks.
"An Eternity. I sure the sex is amazing. You've probably invented some wild positions. And the breadbaking must be fun, too. But wouldn't you like to do something else, to go out and see the world? If you give us this information we will take you back with us. I'll let you stay at my apartment. I have free pay-per-feel simsense and a 62 inch ultra-def trid."
"That is impossible," Utnapishtim declares with regret, "we left our physical bodies behind long ago.
"We'll just clone you new ones then."
"Clone?" The inquiry came from Mrs. Utnapishtam
Yeah, we just grow a new body for you in a vat and then we'll find some way to stuff you into it.
Mr Wizard shot me a look. He didn't like that at all.
I spent the better part of 12 hours or one onetrillionith of a second, depending on your point of view, explaining the wonders of the sixth world to them. When all was said and done they agreed. Mr. Wizard would return to retrive them when their bodies were completed. They would give us the location when they were successfully enfleshed.
Mr. Wizard did not voice his objections untill safely returned to the real world. He had that much sense.
"You can't just stuff an astral form into a body. It doesn't work like that. They'll probably just die." He admonished me.
"You weren't getting anywhere. We had to give them something that an immortal would want. Love and freedom are the only things that fit that description and they already have love. If it doesn't work we won't have lost anything. This is our one and only shot."
The argument was over but he had to have a parting shot, "You shouldn't meddle in things that you don't understand."
"Neither should you."
___________________________________________________________________
I won't bore you with the details of the cloning process. If you want them slot the file labeled Apendix C. We were able to get the equipment and the doctors through legit channels using The Hag's resources. There were some complications with the implantation but we were able to get emergency assistance. The last time I saw Mr. and Mrs. Utnapishtim they were sitting on my couch watching the weather channel with total fascination. They also looked remarkably like Euphoria and Razor from that old sim.
I learned two things that night. First,it isn't easy to stuff an astral form into a random cloned body. Second, you can get licensed cybermancers to make a house call on two hours notice for only six-hundred-thousand nuyen but you have to provide the sacrifices.
Really, it just keeps getting better and better, good work. I liked the farreyman in bermudas very much! 
Charon wears Bermudas and Hawaiian Ts and eats sandwiches! WOOT! 
And has a steam-powered ferry!
And has a steam-powered ferry!
pal, this storry is raly hilarious (but it´s not silly at the same time, which is very hard to do), I´m genuinly LMAO even by reading just the comments! 
Heh... binding 'gods' into meatbodies with cybermancy. That's got to stink up the Astral...
| QUOTE (nick012000) |
| Heh... binding 'gods' into meatbodies with cybermancy. That's got to stink up the Astral... |
Like a mountain of dead skunks. Good thing the narrator is mundane and ignorant of such things.
Utnapishtim and his wife aren't gods, though. They are normal mortals who had the good fortune to survive the great flood. After the gods gave them permission to live in the land beyond the river. It is the place that gives them their immortality and it would do the same for anyone else.
So far I've tried to avoid large and detailed action scenes which I am fairly weak at. Humbaba's use of the Fear Powers was a a trick to let that bettle occur offpage and I'm glad it had a good effect but I won't be able to use such tricks during the underwater adventure and have it come out right. Wish me luck.
I love your story and especially the main characters commentary and viewpoints. lol. Awesome story.
dang, and every so often I use the term, 'verily'...
dang, and every so often I use the term, 'verily'...
i'm just gonna have to remember how he dealt with the dweller, i think that this is the first time i have ever, and i do mean EVER seen it intimidated
Since the dwellers test can draw on any stat of the char, it could well be intimidation, which is surelly inconventional, which is why it was a great idea!
(imagin a rotten sceleton type of dweller testing the questors skill at seduction )
(imagin a rotten sceleton type of dweller testing the questors skill at seduction
)
Extra points for referencing classic literature and making me feel smart for reading this thread. I totally gained 2 IQ from reading this, whereas when I read the official SR novels my IQ usually just stays the same.
The Devil in Red
"My name is Mr. Y. If you wish to continue living please turn down the old hag's job. If you wish to die, please continue persuing this stupid myth. Thank you for your time and please make your decision wisely."
The message left on my telecom didn't scare me at all. That has always been my weakness. I don't know when I shouldn't be scared or when I should be.
_____________________________________________________________________
When Utnapishtim told us that the flower only grew in the deepest depths of the ocean my first response was to contact Boots. She was the only rigger I knew who had any experience with submarines. More importantly, she was the only rigger I trusted. I hadn't seen her in years, not since Coronodo, but I knew I could trust her. We ran together since we were both in The Rockets, the dorkiest go-gang south of the Mason-Dixon, and we broke into the big time together. Back then, we took more bullets for each other than I care to count.
Boots was very happy to hear from me, especially when I mentioned that my client hadn't put a limit on the expense account. She had been working around central Euproe for a while and apparently one of her contacts in Russia was trying to offload a balistic missile submarine. She had been practially wetting herself over the sub but didn't have the funds to buy it. I wired her the nuyen shortly before Mr. Wizard and I packed up and headed to Byzantium.
By this point we have spent more than fourty times what we were being paid and the Hag's acountants hadn't even batted an eyelash. I'm begining to think that I should have asked for more money.
______________________________________________________________________
When the plane landed we had twelve hours left untill the meeting. I was tired. Mr. Wizard probably was, too. I'm never sure about him. We took a taxi to the Hyatt Regency Istanbul and check into our rooms for a much needed rest.
The first thing that I did when I got up that night was unpack my clothes. I tore through my suitcase looking for something approperiate to wear. I wasn't sure why. I usually don't are about clothes. It was nostalgia, I guess. Several thousand nuyen worth of the lattest fashions were hurled to the floor before I found what I was looking for, a tattered and dingy old jacket with a NASA patch on the breast.
The second thing that I did was check my telecom for messages. There was only one.
"I take your persistance to mean that you want to die." He was a human in his early 20s, well tanned, brown hair, he was handsome by some standards but something about him was odd. His voice didn't sound right; it was like he was speaking someone else's words. And was wearing the same ugly crimson tuxedo that he was wearing the first time he called me.
This time, I left a reply on his voicemail. "You better change clothes before the fashion police arrest you."
I didn't know when to be scared.
____________________________________________________________________________
I left Mr. Wizard at the hotel when I went to meet Boots. The meeting was at a small tavern called Siduri. Siduri was the name of Summerian goddess of wine. It was also the name the barmaid that tried to talk Gilgamesh out of his quest for immortality. The coincidence wasn't lost on me.
The bar was small, well lit, and firendly. People danced to music playing thorugh overhead speakers, people sat at tables and talked.
"Howdey, Spaceman." She still looked like a teenager. Damned elven metabolism.
"Howdey, Boots." Her face was exactly the same, but she had changed quite a bit since we had last met. The giant chrome jackport on the back of her neck was gone, replaced with one that was far more subtle. I wouldn't have even noticed it if I hadn't been looking for it. Her movement was far more graceful than I remembered and she managed her view so that she could be aware of everything in the room. I had to wonder if this is really her.
She was thinking the same thing about me; I could see it in her eyes. The tension between us was so thick that it could be cut with a monoblade. I wondered how many drone guns were pointing at me right then. Knowing Boots, at least two.
Before either of us could get splattered on the beautiful hardwood floor of this quaint little tavern I began the litany that we stole from an old 2D back when we were just punk kids, "To protect the world from devestation."
She didn't miss a beat, "To unite all peoples within our nation."
"To denounce the evils of truth and love."
"To extend our reach to the stars above."
"Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light!"
"Surrender now or prepare to fight!"
The tension disolved into laughter and hugs.
We spent the next several hours drinking and reminiscing and planning.
________________________________________________________________________
The Hyatt Regency parking garage was dark. Several light bulbs had burned out or had been removed. I couldn't be sure. A shrill screech filled my head as someone broke in on my encrypted radio channel. The voice that followed was unmistakable. "Do you want to die? Your message sounded like a 'yes' but one never knows these days. Please be clear next time."
There were three of them in the shadows.
The first, apparently the leader by his position in their formation, was a white-haired wannabe badass in a red longcoat. He reminded me of countless badasses from countless trids and sims. I couldn't see under his coat but he certainly had a weapon, probably a pair of guns or a pair of swords - probably both.
Standing by his side was a woman how had went out of her way to advertise her combat cyber. Her buldging dermal plates distort her figure and mask her feminity. Her overpolished chrome arms gleam in the starlight, drawing attention to the barbed razors on her fingertips.
The third was a teenager with a datajack and not much else. He looks like a yuppie kid who bit off more than he could chew in an act of youthfull rebellion.
All three were human.
I didn't know who they were or why there were here. They could have been Mr. Y's agents sent to kill he. They could have been street punks looking to rob me. They could have been Boots' people. They could have been minding their own business. I didn't know.
The kid was moving his lips but he wasn't saying anything and his hand was own the side of his head. When people use a transducer they have tells. It isn't easy to adjust to just talking when your brain. I spend months getting rid of my tells when I got my headware radio. This kid didn't. He probably didn't even know that he was advertising his communication to the whole world. He was talking to someone. I didn't know who. It could have been the crimson fragger; it could have been his grandmother. I didn't know.
I didn't know that I was going for my gun untill the kid's skull exploded. My second shot caught the woman in the neck and fully decapitated her. By this time, the badass was moving toward me and reaching into his coat. I didn't have time to turn toward him. He would have closed in before I could turn my gun toward him. Instead, I droped a grenade between us.
He dove for cover without noticing that I hadn't pulled the pin and I put two explosive bullets in his back.
Their personal effects were unenlightening.
"My name is Mr. Y. If you wish to continue living please turn down the old hag's job. If you wish to die, please continue persuing this stupid myth. Thank you for your time and please make your decision wisely."
The message left on my telecom didn't scare me at all. That has always been my weakness. I don't know when I shouldn't be scared or when I should be.
_____________________________________________________________________
When Utnapishtim told us that the flower only grew in the deepest depths of the ocean my first response was to contact Boots. She was the only rigger I knew who had any experience with submarines. More importantly, she was the only rigger I trusted. I hadn't seen her in years, not since Coronodo, but I knew I could trust her. We ran together since we were both in The Rockets, the dorkiest go-gang south of the Mason-Dixon, and we broke into the big time together. Back then, we took more bullets for each other than I care to count.
Boots was very happy to hear from me, especially when I mentioned that my client hadn't put a limit on the expense account. She had been working around central Euproe for a while and apparently one of her contacts in Russia was trying to offload a balistic missile submarine. She had been practially wetting herself over the sub but didn't have the funds to buy it. I wired her the nuyen shortly before Mr. Wizard and I packed up and headed to Byzantium.
By this point we have spent more than fourty times what we were being paid and the Hag's acountants hadn't even batted an eyelash. I'm begining to think that I should have asked for more money.
______________________________________________________________________
When the plane landed we had twelve hours left untill the meeting. I was tired. Mr. Wizard probably was, too. I'm never sure about him. We took a taxi to the Hyatt Regency Istanbul and check into our rooms for a much needed rest.
The first thing that I did when I got up that night was unpack my clothes. I tore through my suitcase looking for something approperiate to wear. I wasn't sure why. I usually don't are about clothes. It was nostalgia, I guess. Several thousand nuyen worth of the lattest fashions were hurled to the floor before I found what I was looking for, a tattered and dingy old jacket with a NASA patch on the breast.
The second thing that I did was check my telecom for messages. There was only one.
"I take your persistance to mean that you want to die." He was a human in his early 20s, well tanned, brown hair, he was handsome by some standards but something about him was odd. His voice didn't sound right; it was like he was speaking someone else's words. And was wearing the same ugly crimson tuxedo that he was wearing the first time he called me.
This time, I left a reply on his voicemail. "You better change clothes before the fashion police arrest you."
I didn't know when to be scared.
____________________________________________________________________________
I left Mr. Wizard at the hotel when I went to meet Boots. The meeting was at a small tavern called Siduri. Siduri was the name of Summerian goddess of wine. It was also the name the barmaid that tried to talk Gilgamesh out of his quest for immortality. The coincidence wasn't lost on me.
The bar was small, well lit, and firendly. People danced to music playing thorugh overhead speakers, people sat at tables and talked.
"Howdey, Spaceman." She still looked like a teenager. Damned elven metabolism.
"Howdey, Boots." Her face was exactly the same, but she had changed quite a bit since we had last met. The giant chrome jackport on the back of her neck was gone, replaced with one that was far more subtle. I wouldn't have even noticed it if I hadn't been looking for it. Her movement was far more graceful than I remembered and she managed her view so that she could be aware of everything in the room. I had to wonder if this is really her.
She was thinking the same thing about me; I could see it in her eyes. The tension between us was so thick that it could be cut with a monoblade. I wondered how many drone guns were pointing at me right then. Knowing Boots, at least two.
Before either of us could get splattered on the beautiful hardwood floor of this quaint little tavern I began the litany that we stole from an old 2D back when we were just punk kids, "To protect the world from devestation."
She didn't miss a beat, "To unite all peoples within our nation."
"To denounce the evils of truth and love."
"To extend our reach to the stars above."
"Team Rocket blast off at the speed of light!"
"Surrender now or prepare to fight!"
The tension disolved into laughter and hugs.
We spent the next several hours drinking and reminiscing and planning.
________________________________________________________________________
The Hyatt Regency parking garage was dark. Several light bulbs had burned out or had been removed. I couldn't be sure. A shrill screech filled my head as someone broke in on my encrypted radio channel. The voice that followed was unmistakable. "Do you want to die? Your message sounded like a 'yes' but one never knows these days. Please be clear next time."
There were three of them in the shadows.
The first, apparently the leader by his position in their formation, was a white-haired wannabe badass in a red longcoat. He reminded me of countless badasses from countless trids and sims. I couldn't see under his coat but he certainly had a weapon, probably a pair of guns or a pair of swords - probably both.
Standing by his side was a woman how had went out of her way to advertise her combat cyber. Her buldging dermal plates distort her figure and mask her feminity. Her overpolished chrome arms gleam in the starlight, drawing attention to the barbed razors on her fingertips.
The third was a teenager with a datajack and not much else. He looks like a yuppie kid who bit off more than he could chew in an act of youthfull rebellion.
All three were human.
I didn't know who they were or why there were here. They could have been Mr. Y's agents sent to kill he. They could have been street punks looking to rob me. They could have been Boots' people. They could have been minding their own business. I didn't know.
The kid was moving his lips but he wasn't saying anything and his hand was own the side of his head. When people use a transducer they have tells. It isn't easy to adjust to just talking when your brain. I spend months getting rid of my tells when I got my headware radio. This kid didn't. He probably didn't even know that he was advertising his communication to the whole world. He was talking to someone. I didn't know who. It could have been the crimson fragger; it could have been his grandmother. I didn't know.
I didn't know that I was going for my gun untill the kid's skull exploded. My second shot caught the woman in the neck and fully decapitated her. By this time, the badass was moving toward me and reaching into his coat. I didn't have time to turn toward him. He would have closed in before I could turn my gun toward him. Instead, I droped a grenade between us.
He dove for cover without noticing that I hadn't pulled the pin and I put two explosive bullets in his back.
Their personal effects were unenlightening.
Great stuff. But the reference to Team Rocket... *lol*
You forgot the talking cat ally spirit.
Meowth was eaten by a free mantis in 2058. It was a grusome death, to be sure, but he enjoyed it up untill his head was twisted off.
And I was concerned that the explosive bullet decapitating someone was too much...
And I was concerned that the explosive bullet decapitating someone was too much...
naw, my sniper did that covering me and the other member of the team to take out a pair of phys ads on a "100 Bullets" run Ex explosive round called shot to the neck smartlink short range, (internal vision mag) with a SM-3 in 3ed.
No, dramatic effects are good, just use them sparingly (so no more decapitation-shots in this storry), than they are great.
I allso verymuch like the pokémon refference, it really adds color to the characters and emphasis how close there relation had been. It´s allso a thing real people would probably do, to brake the ice after years ooc (not that I know any real people, who needs to, there are planty of sample npc´s described in sorcebooks
).
Good job to describe the scrubs allso, man I hate it, when a player pulls the he looks like [inserd movie character] card! My players allso come up with horribly corny streetnames mostly, and thats only after thinking very hard about it, but I digress. Good job, as allways, congratulations! I probably liked the reuniting scene most
.
Edit: I´m still not used to it, though I resignated posts ago, it still shocks me. I probably have a distorted perseption of the ratio of 1st on next page to normal posts, but I know they would change the posts back, just to make me feel save, if I´d start counting, so I´m going to relly on my good ol´ paranoia
.
I allso verymuch like the pokémon refference, it really adds color to the characters and emphasis how close there relation had been. It´s allso a thing real people would probably do, to brake the ice after years ooc (not that I know any real people, who needs to, there are planty of sample npc´s described in sorcebooks
).Good job to describe the scrubs allso, man I hate it, when a player pulls the he looks like [inserd movie character] card! My players allso come up with horribly corny streetnames mostly, and thats only after thinking very hard about it, but I digress. Good job, as allways, congratulations! I probably liked the reuniting scene most
.Edit: I´m still not used to it, though I resignated posts ago, it still shocks me. I probably have a distorted perseption of the ratio of 1st on next page to normal posts, but I know they would change the posts back, just to make me feel save, if I´d start counting, so I´m going to relly on my good ol´ paranoia
.
Twenty Thousand Leagues
"She isn't Russian", Boots informed me, "she's Old American; Sea Wolf class, the cadillac of nuclear attack submarines. Only three were ever produced and this one, the SSN-23 Jimmy Carter, was misplaced during the breakup of the USA. Her former owners found her politicaly undesireable and let her go for a fraction of what she is worth." Boots could talk about military vehicles 'till the sun goes nova if she had the time and someone to listen. "Even after 60 years, Jimmy Carter is still one of the best submarines in the world. She's quieter and faster than any other boat out there. She can dive deeper than everything but special purpose exploration subs. She's the most spaceous submarine ever made. She can carry 50 torpedos and cruise missles, 100 mines, and a variety of UUVs." Boots could go on forever if there wasn't anything to stop her. Luckily for me we had arrived at the pier.
To my untrained eye Jimmy Carter looked like every other submarine - vaguely phallic but otherwise unnoteworthy but I had Boots's assurance that it was the best thing since sliced bread. That was good enough for me.
I was introduced to Boots's mercenary submariners, starting with Captain Vladmir Stravinsky and the rest of the bridge crew, and given a quick tour of the boat before I was shown to my accomidations and given a chance to settle in. Apparently 'spaceous' means one person to a coffin in submarine parlance.
We sailed from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean. We made our way to the portion of the Mediterranean called the Agean Sea and docked in a small cove on the island of Lesbos. There were several naval engineers waiting for us.
For two and a half months the engineers inspected, repaired, and retrofitted Jimmy Carter while we rested, relaxed, and mingled lesbians and Lesvonians. The repairs and refits costs just over one two hundred million nuyen, again paid without question. When they were finished, Jimmy Carter was able to function as bathyscaphe and we were assured that she would be able to reach a depth of 35,000 feet or more. In addition, her magazines were refilled and she was equiped with latest underwater sensor drones.
______________________________________________________________________________
The journey to the mouth of the Challenger Deep was uneventful. There was a short encouter with a pod of storm dolphins but Jimmy Carter's weapons, Boots's skill, and the Captain's good judgement reduced them to tuna chunks before they could do any harm.
The only real dangers were the conversations between Boots and Mr. Wizard. With my old partner and my new partner exchanging notes on my I had no idea what kind of embarasing tidbits could propogate. Once, I walked in on Boots explaining to Mr. Wizard that my family was so poor that I had to wear my sisters' hand-me-downs.
<<7 MP corrupted>>
I watched on a moniter as Boots guided the drone down into the Challanger Deep. The first thing that caught my attention of an enormous pillar of billowing black smoke rising from a hydrothermal vent in the ocean floor. The last time anyone checked there wasn't any volcanic activity down here. It is cause for concern. The hot minerals rising from the black smoker render visual and thermographic sensors useless while impairing sonar and radar.
Boots was careful to avoid the smoke as the drone decended further into the Deep, passing several large amphipods along the way. The Deep was like an alien world full of unearthly beauty and inhabitated by odd creatures that vex metahuman sensibilities. The flowers were growing at the base of the black smoker, which was actually a pool of exposed magma. There were dozens of them, possibly hundreds. They were white with seven petals and a haunting appearance. Even mundane me could tell that they were special with a single glance. Boots carefully plucked two flowers, one with each of the drone's arms, and commanded it to return to the ship. It had just cleared the mouth of the Deep when it stoped transmitting.
The Jimmy Carter was designed so that SEALS could be deployed from it while it was underwater. Using the same mechanism, now reinforced with SOTA technology, a diver could go outside even at these depths. I hadn't dove once since the circle frag that was Coronado, yet I insisted that I should be the one to go. There were more experienced and more skilled persons that I on board and there were more drones but I had become possessive of this mission. I had put too much effort into it to let someone else retrive the flowers. As a put on the heavily modified JIM suit and pluged my datajack into the port the crew's doctor cast several spells on me. I inhaled the oxygenated liquid that was filling my suit's helmet and steped through the airlock.
The drone wasn't far from the submarine. It only took me a few minutes to get there using motorized propellers that were attached to my suit. What I found was disturbing. The drone had been destroyed from the inside out. It was either a bomb or magic. I was afraid that it was the latter. One flower was crushed by the drone but the second was intact. It took me a few minutes to pry the blossom from the drone's claw and when I did I heard a rumbling from the Deep.
I could see a glowing orange pillar through the thick black smoke. It was larger than I was and it kept getting taller and taller. It was a finger. There were three others like it and a thumb on the giant hand that was rising from the magma vent. The massive fist slammed down onto the stone floor near me, send dust and debries hurtling through the water at fantastic velocities.
I must have blacked out for a moment. I think a chunk of rock hit me. The next thing I remember is having an horrific throbbing headache and noticing that there was a hairline crack in my suit's helmet. By this time the fire spirit's torso was fully exposed. It was enormous. The slitch could have used Jimmy Carter as a dildo.
"I'm alive but my suit's seen damaged.", I screamed into my headradio. It was then that I thought to check my tightly clenched left hand. "I have the ball."
The spirit saw me then. I had no time to react. I could only stare into the humanoid construct of liquid fire as its monsterous fist closed the distance between us. But the attack never connected. It stopped with amazing suddeness and the fire spirit staggered backwards in its smokey magma pool. When it recovered it began to swat at an invisible adversary.
While the creature was distracted by its astral foe eight torpedos slammed into it. The explosive warheads wore into the spirit's molten body and its shriek of pain caused to trench to shake. Cutting its losses, the fire spirit vanished into the astral plane. I activated the propellers on my suit and headed for the boat.
________________________________________________
It took me ten minutes to get out of the JIM suit and back to the bridge. Mr. Wizard was still out of his body, covering our escape from the astral plane.
Abruptly, Mr. Wizard's body went into spasms and his skin began to blister. It started on his face but it spread in all directions a like the wildfire that is was. Blistering quickly turned to peeling and peeling turned to charing. Someone yelled for a medic. It may have been me. By the time Mr. Wizard's eyes opened most of his body was covered with third degree burns. His cold blue eyes just stared into mine for a moment. I could see his fate in them and I could see that he knew it. He grasped my arm with an inhuman strength and cried out "Yes" and I just stared back at him. My eyes were begining to water. "Yes! Yes!" he cried out again. They were his last words. He lingered for seven days while I kept an unwavering guard at his bedside.
"She isn't Russian", Boots informed me, "she's Old American; Sea Wolf class, the cadillac of nuclear attack submarines. Only three were ever produced and this one, the SSN-23 Jimmy Carter, was misplaced during the breakup of the USA. Her former owners found her politicaly undesireable and let her go for a fraction of what she is worth." Boots could talk about military vehicles 'till the sun goes nova if she had the time and someone to listen. "Even after 60 years, Jimmy Carter is still one of the best submarines in the world. She's quieter and faster than any other boat out there. She can dive deeper than everything but special purpose exploration subs. She's the most spaceous submarine ever made. She can carry 50 torpedos and cruise missles, 100 mines, and a variety of UUVs." Boots could go on forever if there wasn't anything to stop her. Luckily for me we had arrived at the pier.
To my untrained eye Jimmy Carter looked like every other submarine - vaguely phallic but otherwise unnoteworthy but I had Boots's assurance that it was the best thing since sliced bread. That was good enough for me.
I was introduced to Boots's mercenary submariners, starting with Captain Vladmir Stravinsky and the rest of the bridge crew, and given a quick tour of the boat before I was shown to my accomidations and given a chance to settle in. Apparently 'spaceous' means one person to a coffin in submarine parlance.
We sailed from the Black Sea to the Mediterranean. We made our way to the portion of the Mediterranean called the Agean Sea and docked in a small cove on the island of Lesbos. There were several naval engineers waiting for us.
For two and a half months the engineers inspected, repaired, and retrofitted Jimmy Carter while we rested, relaxed, and mingled lesbians and Lesvonians. The repairs and refits costs just over one two hundred million nuyen, again paid without question. When they were finished, Jimmy Carter was able to function as bathyscaphe and we were assured that she would be able to reach a depth of 35,000 feet or more. In addition, her magazines were refilled and she was equiped with latest underwater sensor drones.
______________________________________________________________________________
The journey to the mouth of the Challenger Deep was uneventful. There was a short encouter with a pod of storm dolphins but Jimmy Carter's weapons, Boots's skill, and the Captain's good judgement reduced them to tuna chunks before they could do any harm.
The only real dangers were the conversations between Boots and Mr. Wizard. With my old partner and my new partner exchanging notes on my I had no idea what kind of embarasing tidbits could propogate. Once, I walked in on Boots explaining to Mr. Wizard that my family was so poor that I had to wear my sisters' hand-me-downs.
<<7 MP corrupted>>
I watched on a moniter as Boots guided the drone down into the Challanger Deep. The first thing that caught my attention of an enormous pillar of billowing black smoke rising from a hydrothermal vent in the ocean floor. The last time anyone checked there wasn't any volcanic activity down here. It is cause for concern. The hot minerals rising from the black smoker render visual and thermographic sensors useless while impairing sonar and radar.
Boots was careful to avoid the smoke as the drone decended further into the Deep, passing several large amphipods along the way. The Deep was like an alien world full of unearthly beauty and inhabitated by odd creatures that vex metahuman sensibilities. The flowers were growing at the base of the black smoker, which was actually a pool of exposed magma. There were dozens of them, possibly hundreds. They were white with seven petals and a haunting appearance. Even mundane me could tell that they were special with a single glance. Boots carefully plucked two flowers, one with each of the drone's arms, and commanded it to return to the ship. It had just cleared the mouth of the Deep when it stoped transmitting.
The Jimmy Carter was designed so that SEALS could be deployed from it while it was underwater. Using the same mechanism, now reinforced with SOTA technology, a diver could go outside even at these depths. I hadn't dove once since the circle frag that was Coronado, yet I insisted that I should be the one to go. There were more experienced and more skilled persons that I on board and there were more drones but I had become possessive of this mission. I had put too much effort into it to let someone else retrive the flowers. As a put on the heavily modified JIM suit and pluged my datajack into the port the crew's doctor cast several spells on me. I inhaled the oxygenated liquid that was filling my suit's helmet and steped through the airlock.
The drone wasn't far from the submarine. It only took me a few minutes to get there using motorized propellers that were attached to my suit. What I found was disturbing. The drone had been destroyed from the inside out. It was either a bomb or magic. I was afraid that it was the latter. One flower was crushed by the drone but the second was intact. It took me a few minutes to pry the blossom from the drone's claw and when I did I heard a rumbling from the Deep.
I could see a glowing orange pillar through the thick black smoke. It was larger than I was and it kept getting taller and taller. It was a finger. There were three others like it and a thumb on the giant hand that was rising from the magma vent. The massive fist slammed down onto the stone floor near me, send dust and debries hurtling through the water at fantastic velocities.
I must have blacked out for a moment. I think a chunk of rock hit me. The next thing I remember is having an horrific throbbing headache and noticing that there was a hairline crack in my suit's helmet. By this time the fire spirit's torso was fully exposed. It was enormous. The slitch could have used Jimmy Carter as a dildo.
"I'm alive but my suit's seen damaged.", I screamed into my headradio. It was then that I thought to check my tightly clenched left hand. "I have the ball."
The spirit saw me then. I had no time to react. I could only stare into the humanoid construct of liquid fire as its monsterous fist closed the distance between us. But the attack never connected. It stopped with amazing suddeness and the fire spirit staggered backwards in its smokey magma pool. When it recovered it began to swat at an invisible adversary.
While the creature was distracted by its astral foe eight torpedos slammed into it. The explosive warheads wore into the spirit's molten body and its shriek of pain caused to trench to shake. Cutting its losses, the fire spirit vanished into the astral plane. I activated the propellers on my suit and headed for the boat.
________________________________________________
It took me ten minutes to get out of the JIM suit and back to the bridge. Mr. Wizard was still out of his body, covering our escape from the astral plane.
Abruptly, Mr. Wizard's body went into spasms and his skin began to blister. It started on his face but it spread in all directions a like the wildfire that is was. Blistering quickly turned to peeling and peeling turned to charing. Someone yelled for a medic. It may have been me. By the time Mr. Wizard's eyes opened most of his body was covered with third degree burns. His cold blue eyes just stared into mine for a moment. I could see his fate in them and I could see that he knew it. He grasped my arm with an inhuman strength and cried out "Yes" and I just stared back at him. My eyes were begining to water. "Yes! Yes!" he cried out again. They were his last words. He lingered for seven days while I kept an unwavering guard at his bedside.
| QUOTE (hyzmarca) |
| There were several navel engineers waiting for us. |
I never knew submarines had navels.
shows what you know. how else are they supposed to go belly up!? or is that fish...
That's why they had to engineer one. 
Ahh, fixed.
I'm wondering how the foreshadowing is working. I think that its beating the readers over the head with what's going to happen next but it is hard for me too judge since I know what too look for and I know what's going to happen.
Ahh, fixed.
I'm wondering how the foreshadowing is working. I think that its beating the readers over the head with what's going to happen next but it is hard for me too judge since I know what too look for and I know what's going to happen.
psst, who's "Mr. Wazard"? hehe I'm finding it an entertaining read
| QUOTE (Aku) |
| psst, who's "Mr. Wazard"? hehe I'm finding it an entertaining read |
twin brother of Mr. Wizard. But he's not as good...
Oh, great story.
Eternal Life Without Eternal Youth
We met in the same bar. It was unusually crowded tonight. There must hae been at least a hundred people there, mostly thugs and whores. But once again they all gave The Hag considerable space.
My client inspected the enchanting blossom carefully before she lifted up a metal briefcase with a strength that her ancient muscles could not provide and placed it on the table.
The credsticks were there. I quick check showed that the denominations were correct. After all the money she spent on me, I doubted that she would begin cheating now. I thanked her for her patronage and she thanked me for my service before plucking off a petal and raising it to her lips.
And then everyone exploded.
Heads popped like overinflated balloon. Torsos burst spilling there contents onto the floor. Skin twisted and ripped. Bones splintered and shattered. One poor fragger was strangled with his own small intestine. The room was washed by a hundred soul-rending cries and a deluge of blood.
The petal in The Hag's hand burst into flames and I felt the most awful pain in my chest. I look down at the source of the mind-numbing throbbing hurt. I could see my heart hanging out of my chest. It was tethered to my body by a few thin blood vessels and it was still beating. With each pulse, red liquid leaked from the failing joints. I could also see my lungs, and ribs, and several other parts of me; they were barely contained and straining to break free.
"Noleta, dear, I am so very disapointed." It was the crimson bastard's voice.
"Ysrthgrathe, you look pitiful", the hag stared straight at him as he approached our table.
"We are greater than we ever were", replied the walking fashion crime.
"You just keep telling yourself that, child", was Noleta's knowing retort.
"This isn't about us, Noleta, this is about you." The magician waved his hand and the flower disintegrated before us. "We cannot allow you to throw away the magnificent suffering that we have gifted to you. Eternal life without eternal youth, no one else has ever received such a beautiful gift. It should be savored, not squandered."
I saw that my predator was in my hand. I saw it, but I couldn't feel it. I didn't feel anything.
"I'm not afraid anymore, Ysrthgrathe. There is nothing left for you to take away from me. You can't take my hope. I'll always have my hope that one day I will die. Your magic cannot hold forever. You cannot last forever."
Inside my head I pounded on the computers that tell my body who to shoot. I yelled and screamed at them to ventilate the motherfragger.
Mr. Y chuckled, "We have faced Death, little girl, and she rejected us. Your hope is foolish. But, if that is the way it must be, then so be it." Anger and frustration were obvious beneath his amusement. "You are nothing more than a worn-out toy that ceased being fun ages ago", he spat. "You can take your precious death."
And then the crimson motherfragger's chest exploded. I don't know if it was my predator or if it was Noleta's mojo. I didn't hear any gunshots but I didn't hear anything anymore.
I wasn't afraid of hell. If there was a hell I would be happy to go there. I'd be king of the place eventually. I was afraid of nothing. I was afraid of not existing. And I heard Mr. Y's voice in my head. I couldn't hear anything else but I could hear his voice. "Do you want to die?"
I tried to cry out "No" but my mouth would not move. No part of me would. All I could do was look into Mr. Y's hole. I could see his pulverised spine within the gaping cavity. He must have heard me, somehow, because unclasped his docwagon bracelet and threw it at my feet.
Then he laughed. His laughter filled my head. It was the laugh of a madman. And blood poured from his wound like a river but he didn't care. He just laughed and laughed. But I could hear another laugh along with the mad magicians. This laugh was deeper and darker. It was the laugh of a monster. It was faint at first but it soon drowned out the madman's laugh.
And the magician's eyes went wide with understanding and with terror. He tried to pull himself to his docwagon bracelet using his hands but the effort was futile. He was losing too much blood far too quickly. His face turned pale as his blood rushed out of him. In seconds his skin withered and its tone transitioned to grey and then to black. And then his bloodless corpse crumbled into dust.
But his blood still moved. It was alive and active. It didn't flow it moved on its own accord and it was drawing in the countless gallons of blood spilled from the other patrons. It was drawing in my blood, too.
And again the monster's voice filled my head, "Do you want to die?"
My fear, my horror, and my desperation forced me to move me lips. I think I moved my lips. It wouldn't have mattered if I did or not. "No. No."
The doctors told me that it was a miracle that they were able to save me. I know better. I should have said yes.
We met in the same bar. It was unusually crowded tonight. There must hae been at least a hundred people there, mostly thugs and whores. But once again they all gave The Hag considerable space.
My client inspected the enchanting blossom carefully before she lifted up a metal briefcase with a strength that her ancient muscles could not provide and placed it on the table.
The credsticks were there. I quick check showed that the denominations were correct. After all the money she spent on me, I doubted that she would begin cheating now. I thanked her for her patronage and she thanked me for my service before plucking off a petal and raising it to her lips.
And then everyone exploded.
Heads popped like overinflated balloon. Torsos burst spilling there contents onto the floor. Skin twisted and ripped. Bones splintered and shattered. One poor fragger was strangled with his own small intestine. The room was washed by a hundred soul-rending cries and a deluge of blood.
The petal in The Hag's hand burst into flames and I felt the most awful pain in my chest. I look down at the source of the mind-numbing throbbing hurt. I could see my heart hanging out of my chest. It was tethered to my body by a few thin blood vessels and it was still beating. With each pulse, red liquid leaked from the failing joints. I could also see my lungs, and ribs, and several other parts of me; they were barely contained and straining to break free.
"Noleta, dear, I am so very disapointed." It was the crimson bastard's voice.
"Ysrthgrathe, you look pitiful", the hag stared straight at him as he approached our table.
"We are greater than we ever were", replied the walking fashion crime.
"You just keep telling yourself that, child", was Noleta's knowing retort.
"This isn't about us, Noleta, this is about you." The magician waved his hand and the flower disintegrated before us. "We cannot allow you to throw away the magnificent suffering that we have gifted to you. Eternal life without eternal youth, no one else has ever received such a beautiful gift. It should be savored, not squandered."
I saw that my predator was in my hand. I saw it, but I couldn't feel it. I didn't feel anything.
"I'm not afraid anymore, Ysrthgrathe. There is nothing left for you to take away from me. You can't take my hope. I'll always have my hope that one day I will die. Your magic cannot hold forever. You cannot last forever."
Inside my head I pounded on the computers that tell my body who to shoot. I yelled and screamed at them to ventilate the motherfragger.
Mr. Y chuckled, "We have faced Death, little girl, and she rejected us. Your hope is foolish. But, if that is the way it must be, then so be it." Anger and frustration were obvious beneath his amusement. "You are nothing more than a worn-out toy that ceased being fun ages ago", he spat. "You can take your precious death."
And then the crimson motherfragger's chest exploded. I don't know if it was my predator or if it was Noleta's mojo. I didn't hear any gunshots but I didn't hear anything anymore.
I wasn't afraid of hell. If there was a hell I would be happy to go there. I'd be king of the place eventually. I was afraid of nothing. I was afraid of not existing. And I heard Mr. Y's voice in my head. I couldn't hear anything else but I could hear his voice. "Do you want to die?"
I tried to cry out "No" but my mouth would not move. No part of me would. All I could do was look into Mr. Y's hole. I could see his pulverised spine within the gaping cavity. He must have heard me, somehow, because unclasped his docwagon bracelet and threw it at my feet.
Then he laughed. His laughter filled my head. It was the laugh of a madman. And blood poured from his wound like a river but he didn't care. He just laughed and laughed. But I could hear another laugh along with the mad magicians. This laugh was deeper and darker. It was the laugh of a monster. It was faint at first but it soon drowned out the madman's laugh.
And the magician's eyes went wide with understanding and with terror. He tried to pull himself to his docwagon bracelet using his hands but the effort was futile. He was losing too much blood far too quickly. His face turned pale as his blood rushed out of him. In seconds his skin withered and its tone transitioned to grey and then to black. And then his bloodless corpse crumbled into dust.
But his blood still moved. It was alive and active. It didn't flow it moved on its own accord and it was drawing in the countless gallons of blood spilled from the other patrons. It was drawing in my blood, too.
And again the monster's voice filled my head, "Do you want to die?"
My fear, my horror, and my desperation forced me to move me lips. I think I moved my lips. It wouldn't have mattered if I did or not. "No. No."
The doctors told me that it was a miracle that they were able to save me. I know better. I should have said yes.
Nice
I knew it. But of the story was good anyway. I loved the character's "real man" attitude.
Plus. Never deal with a horror and its victim.
Cheers,
Max
Plus. Never deal with a horror and its victim.
Cheers,
Max
Poor sod. He should have gotten himself cyberzombified, and claimed it as an expense.
Ysrthgrathe: Everyone goes kerspodey!
Cyberzombie: *looks unimpressed*
Ysrthgrathe: ... *shin shift*
Cyberzombie: *lacks skin*
Ysrthgrathe: ... *bone shatter*
Cyberzombie: *lacks bones*
Ysrthgrathe:
*powerbolt*
Cyberzombie: *soaks damage*
Ysrthgrathe: Everyone goes kerspodey!
Cyberzombie: *looks unimpressed*
Ysrthgrathe: ... *shin shift*
Cyberzombie: *lacks skin*
Ysrthgrathe: ... *bone shatter*
Cyberzombie: *lacks bones*
Ysrthgrathe:
*powerbolt*Cyberzombie: *soaks damage*
| QUOTE (nick012000) |
| Poor sod. He should have gotten himself cyberzombified, and claimed it as an expense. Ysrthgrathe: Everyone goes kerspodey! Cyberzombie: *looks unimpressed* Ysrthgrathe: ... *shin shift* Cyberzombie: *lacks skin* Ysrthgrathe: ... *bone shatter* Cyberzombie: *lacks bones* Ysrthgrathe: *powerbolt*Cyberzombie: *soaks damage* |
As fun as that sounds, I think there would have been another step there.
Ysrthgrathe: *Calls Forth an Army of Decay*
Cyberzombie: *Is torn limb-from-limb by the undead*
The thing about Ysrthgrathe is that, by Earthdawn canon, he knows every spell there is. All of them. If any spellcaster anywhere in the universe can do it then Ysrthgrathe can do it better. Even in the low mana levels of Shadowrun he can cast some doozies, provided that he has enough sacrifices.
But Spaceman isn't quite damned yet. Six is a bad number. Seven is better.
I'm not sure, but wasn't Ysieboy limited to Circle 10 Nethermancer spells? And the Army of Decay can't be called instantly.^^
And the Army of Decay can't be called instantly.^^
Elementalist, Illusionist, Nethermancer, and Wizard. I believe that's all the spellcasting disciplines. Yeah, he is limited to 10th according to Horrors. But, I think the deficiency is due to order of publication. I don't remember any talents above 10th circle in the 1st Edition BBB and Horrors explicitly states that he knows all the spells of all the spellcasting diciplines in the powers section of his entry.
| QUOTE ( Horrors page 73) |
| [Ysrthgrathe] can cast all of the spells of all the spellcasting Disciplines [...]. |
In the 1st edition ED Companion there are rules for going up to Circle 15.
| QUOTE (nick012000) |
| In the 1st edition ED Companion there are rules for going up to Circle 15. |
FASA 6107 Ed: Horrors
FASA 6200 Ed: Companion
Publishing order, indeed. This is a case where openended text should take precidence over narrow charts.
So, why did he make Aina blast him back to Whence He Came rather than sticking around, smacking the crap out of Lethe on the metaplanes, and then going and building another bridge like the Azzies did?
Why should Ysrthgrathe build another bridge? What would be the profit to him? Why should he be interested to share his new personal playground with others? Horrors, especially named Horrors, do not cooperate freely.
Yeah, well, that's exactly what he did when he got Aina to use blood magic to banish him.
And starting a giant blood magic ritual had got to hurt (him) less. It'll hurt the sacrifices a lot, but Horrors feed off of other people's pain, so...
And starting a giant blood magic ritual had got to hurt (him) less. It'll hurt the sacrifices a lot, but Horrors feed off of other people's pain, so...
That is a question that goes to motive rather than the power. The simple answer is because Shadowrun would be a very short game if he didn't.
For a purely canonical answer you'll have to ask someone from FAFSA, Wizkids, or FanPro .
In my informed opinion, it was because of his all comsuming obsession with Aina. No other victim is good enough for him. He says so himself in Horrors. He was facing some serious existintial angst as his life became more and more meaningless with each passing day and Aina was the only one who could give him meaning. Alas, they had reached a point in their relationship where he could no longer milk fear and pain from her. Not only had she rejected him, she had overcome her fear of him. He could not live with her, he couldn't live without her, and he couldn't force himself on her. Thus, his only choice was to let her destroy him. He chose crater lake because, as Aina posulates, it would cause her emotional pain to have accidently created a bridge for them.
For the story you have been reading, I decided that Ysrthgranthe's sacrifice wasn't as complete as it appeared, that he used a twisted version of hidden life on a mortal, creating a gestalt being that contained his memories, feelings, and essence with one small exception. It did not include his feelings for Aina. Thus, when Aina unmade him over crater lake, all she did was destroy his one weakness and give him an oppertunity to remake himself with a new True Name and no emotional attatchment to his greatest foe.
For a purely canonical answer you'll have to ask someone from FAFSA, Wizkids, or FanPro .
In my informed opinion, it was because of his all comsuming obsession with Aina. No other victim is good enough for him. He says so himself in Horrors. He was facing some serious existintial angst as his life became more and more meaningless with each passing day and Aina was the only one who could give him meaning. Alas, they had reached a point in their relationship where he could no longer milk fear and pain from her. Not only had she rejected him, she had overcome her fear of him. He could not live with her, he couldn't live without her, and he couldn't force himself on her. Thus, his only choice was to let her destroy him. He chose crater lake because, as Aina posulates, it would cause her emotional pain to have accidently created a bridge for them.
For the story you have been reading, I decided that Ysrthgranthe's sacrifice wasn't as complete as it appeared, that he used a twisted version of hidden life on a mortal, creating a gestalt being that contained his memories, feelings, and essence with one small exception. It did not include his feelings for Aina. Thus, when Aina unmade him over crater lake, all she did was destroy his one weakness and give him an oppertunity to remake himself with a new True Name and no emotional attatchment to his greatest foe.
Erm, horrors aren't namegivers, so remaking himself with a new true name would normally be beyond his power, yes?
He didn't supply the Name.
In the Year 2525
Life was normal for a few years. No, it was better than normal. It was good. I wasn't able to go back to running. My injuries were severe. Repairing them took seventeen different surgeries and left me of severe acaring in places where it isn't good to have scars. The scaring itself could be reduced, but that would require even more surgery, something that I did not wish to go through just so that I could die on the streets one day. Instead, I invested what was left of my one million nuyen. Usually, I invested wisely. Sometimes, I had to help my investments along with a bullet or two. Either way, my investments paid off and I lived a life of luxury. I still do at times.
The dreams began exactly seven years after the day I almost died. It is always seven with these things. Every epic peom or story that you read everything important happens in increments of seven. Magicians like seven, too - except for the Pythagoreans; they prefer three.
Because I won't stand a chance against my enemy if I fight him on a empty stomach.
Seven years to the day after the bloodbath at the bar, I had the strangest dream. In the dream, I was going to see a former lover. We had been in love for many years but our relationship eventually turned sour. She tried to kill me once. I didn't feel anything for her anymore but I knew that she still hated me. I had to settle things with her.
My dream lover was a beautiful ebony-skinned elf in a blue dress. I didn't just see her with my eyes. I saw her with another sense, as well. At the time, I didn't know what the sense was. Now I do. It was what they call 'astral perception'.
The beautiful elf spat venomous words at me. Her face was a twisted mask of torment. Her eyes burned with unquenchable rage. She accused me of murdering our son and I knew that it was true. In her rage she slit her own wrist open to the bone and I could fell magic weaving around us with my other sense. But her considerable powers were not aimed at Spaceman. They were aimed at someone else with a different Name. The magic glanced off of me harmlessly and I watched as she bled to death from the self-inflicted wound. The instant before she lost consciousness, I plunged a clawed hand into her chest and I left with her heart as a trophy.
They weren't recurring dreams in the traditional sense. They were serial dreams. Ever night they would be different but I would be the same. There was an ongoing plot, too. When I tried to ignore them they began to intrude into my waking world. The daydreams were even more vivid then the sleeping ones and I found it difficult to control my own actions while experiencing one. I visited psycologists, neurologists, awakened practitioners, and I visited tribal shamen. The former two told me that I was perfectly normal and should take a vacation. The third suggested a battery of mumbo-jumbo tests which were all inconclusive. The latter was the most helpful. He couldn't give me an exact diagnosis but he did confirm my suspicion that I was royally fragged through every fraggable orifice.
A little legwork showed that me dreams were visions of real events. I wasn't possessed in my sleep, I knew. Some of the events took place half the way around the world from my home. It was far more insidious than that.
I didn't understand how insidious it was untill a Salamander visited me in my home. It was the same Salamander that killed Mr. Wizard. It informed me that it was my unwilling but loyal servent 'till the end of my days. It seems that Ysrthgranthe, the monster from the bar, bound this Salamander (I later learned that the monster shouldn't have been able to bind any spirit) and somehow I had equal control over it. Ysrthgranthe sent the spirit to me to serve as my guardian and as my gardener.
You see, I had been gifted with Noleta's curse when she died in that bar, eternam life without eternal youth. But, the monster wanted me to be strong. When I was strong it was strong and when it was strong I was strong for we were one and the same. I spent years studying magic, as best as a mundane can, in the hops of discovering why this was. What little I learned, I learned from the monster itself. Just as I could see through its senses I would hear its throughs and sift through its mind. It could do the same to me.
For Ysrthgranthe's mind I learned the truth of my condition. He intended to Rename himself to purge himself of the weakness called love. But, this is something he was unable to accomplish on his own so he faked his own death and hid inside a human host watiting for the right time. There is a type of spirit in this world which is summoned from a sacrifice. This sacrifice provides the basis for the spirit's Name and this is how Ysrgranthe intended to remake himself. When the oppertunity arose, when he was surrounded by sufficient carnage, he used his human host to reconjure himself as a blood spirit. The blood from the countless dead forged his new True Name. Among that blood was my blood and my blood was the most important of all. It was my blood the filled in the hollowness where his capicity to love once dwelt.
Of all the sacrifices I was most important because my blood and my Name was a part of the monster's core being. Yet, paradoxically, I was still alive. It was a situation that shouldn't have been. Under normal circumstances two beings cannot have the same Name. But the curse was stronger than the rules of metaphysics and I became Ysrthgranthe's greatest asset. You see, so long as I live he cannot be destroyed and so long as he exists I cannot die.
Eating one of those flowers, I learned, causes a person to shed his skin, much like a snake. But, this shedding is far more complete than a snake's. Cyberware and bioware are purged, essence is restored, gene treatments are undone. It is annoying having to have such extensive surgery and medical treatment after every rejuvination, but I cam keep them down to once ever fourty years or so and it is the only way an ork can stay fit after four-hundred and ninty-one years.
Occasionally, I have played a game with my other self. We would work around each other, foiling each other's plans and making plans of our own. Sometimes, we would fight face-to-face and hurt yeach other as badly as either one of us could be hurt. Gene therapy to Awaken was vouge for a time, back before astral space became so dangerous. I had some back then and I learned to tap into the monster's magic. We had our most spactacular battles then. But, I lost that in a rejuvination and it is almost impossible to find such treatments now. No one outside of an Ark wants to be exposed to astral space and getting into an Ark is far too difficult.
For the past few decades I've lived in my own private Uruk, an undersea habitat I constructed to be near my flowers. But, that changed three years ago. Three years ago he became as powerful as he could become in his current form. His greed for power surpassess his sense of self-preservation and the only way that he can get more power is to complete himself. To complete himself, he must finish what he started with me. He must take the rest of my blood, my flesh, and my soul.
For these past three years I have ran. Because of our link I cannot hide from him but he cannot sneak up on me. If I keep moving I can elude him forever but I am tired of running. I have a plan to free myself of him. A piece of my essence exists at his core. If I can take that essence back I might be able to survive. I might even be able to win. I came to this ruined city to get the help of a vampire named Mara. She agreed and my plan has already been set into motion. All I have to do is wait for my enemy to arrive.
This brings us back to the question you asked when I manhandled those giant leaping mouths. I hope you see why you had to hear the whole story to fully understand my answer. Why did I hire three amateur bodyguards when I am obviously superior to all of you?
Life was normal for a few years. No, it was better than normal. It was good. I wasn't able to go back to running. My injuries were severe. Repairing them took seventeen different surgeries and left me of severe acaring in places where it isn't good to have scars. The scaring itself could be reduced, but that would require even more surgery, something that I did not wish to go through just so that I could die on the streets one day. Instead, I invested what was left of my one million nuyen. Usually, I invested wisely. Sometimes, I had to help my investments along with a bullet or two. Either way, my investments paid off and I lived a life of luxury. I still do at times.
The dreams began exactly seven years after the day I almost died. It is always seven with these things. Every epic peom or story that you read everything important happens in increments of seven. Magicians like seven, too - except for the Pythagoreans; they prefer three.
Because I won't stand a chance against my enemy if I fight him on a empty stomach.
Seven years to the day after the bloodbath at the bar, I had the strangest dream. In the dream, I was going to see a former lover. We had been in love for many years but our relationship eventually turned sour. She tried to kill me once. I didn't feel anything for her anymore but I knew that she still hated me. I had to settle things with her.
My dream lover was a beautiful ebony-skinned elf in a blue dress. I didn't just see her with my eyes. I saw her with another sense, as well. At the time, I didn't know what the sense was. Now I do. It was what they call 'astral perception'.
The beautiful elf spat venomous words at me. Her face was a twisted mask of torment. Her eyes burned with unquenchable rage. She accused me of murdering our son and I knew that it was true. In her rage she slit her own wrist open to the bone and I could fell magic weaving around us with my other sense. But her considerable powers were not aimed at Spaceman. They were aimed at someone else with a different Name. The magic glanced off of me harmlessly and I watched as she bled to death from the self-inflicted wound. The instant before she lost consciousness, I plunged a clawed hand into her chest and I left with her heart as a trophy.
They weren't recurring dreams in the traditional sense. They were serial dreams. Ever night they would be different but I would be the same. There was an ongoing plot, too. When I tried to ignore them they began to intrude into my waking world. The daydreams were even more vivid then the sleeping ones and I found it difficult to control my own actions while experiencing one. I visited psycologists, neurologists, awakened practitioners, and I visited tribal shamen. The former two told me that I was perfectly normal and should take a vacation. The third suggested a battery of mumbo-jumbo tests which were all inconclusive. The latter was the most helpful. He couldn't give me an exact diagnosis but he did confirm my suspicion that I was royally fragged through every fraggable orifice.
A little legwork showed that me dreams were visions of real events. I wasn't possessed in my sleep, I knew. Some of the events took place half the way around the world from my home. It was far more insidious than that.
I didn't understand how insidious it was untill a Salamander visited me in my home. It was the same Salamander that killed Mr. Wizard. It informed me that it was my unwilling but loyal servent 'till the end of my days. It seems that Ysrthgranthe, the monster from the bar, bound this Salamander (I later learned that the monster shouldn't have been able to bind any spirit) and somehow I had equal control over it. Ysrthgranthe sent the spirit to me to serve as my guardian and as my gardener.
You see, I had been gifted with Noleta's curse when she died in that bar, eternam life without eternal youth. But, the monster wanted me to be strong. When I was strong it was strong and when it was strong I was strong for we were one and the same. I spent years studying magic, as best as a mundane can, in the hops of discovering why this was. What little I learned, I learned from the monster itself. Just as I could see through its senses I would hear its throughs and sift through its mind. It could do the same to me.
For Ysrthgranthe's mind I learned the truth of my condition. He intended to Rename himself to purge himself of the weakness called love. But, this is something he was unable to accomplish on his own so he faked his own death and hid inside a human host watiting for the right time. There is a type of spirit in this world which is summoned from a sacrifice. This sacrifice provides the basis for the spirit's Name and this is how Ysrgranthe intended to remake himself. When the oppertunity arose, when he was surrounded by sufficient carnage, he used his human host to reconjure himself as a blood spirit. The blood from the countless dead forged his new True Name. Among that blood was my blood and my blood was the most important of all. It was my blood the filled in the hollowness where his capicity to love once dwelt.
Of all the sacrifices I was most important because my blood and my Name was a part of the monster's core being. Yet, paradoxically, I was still alive. It was a situation that shouldn't have been. Under normal circumstances two beings cannot have the same Name. But the curse was stronger than the rules of metaphysics and I became Ysrthgranthe's greatest asset. You see, so long as I live he cannot be destroyed and so long as he exists I cannot die.
Eating one of those flowers, I learned, causes a person to shed his skin, much like a snake. But, this shedding is far more complete than a snake's. Cyberware and bioware are purged, essence is restored, gene treatments are undone. It is annoying having to have such extensive surgery and medical treatment after every rejuvination, but I cam keep them down to once ever fourty years or so and it is the only way an ork can stay fit after four-hundred and ninty-one years.
Occasionally, I have played a game with my other self. We would work around each other, foiling each other's plans and making plans of our own. Sometimes, we would fight face-to-face and hurt yeach other as badly as either one of us could be hurt. Gene therapy to Awaken was vouge for a time, back before astral space became so dangerous. I had some back then and I learned to tap into the monster's magic. We had our most spactacular battles then. But, I lost that in a rejuvination and it is almost impossible to find such treatments now. No one outside of an Ark wants to be exposed to astral space and getting into an Ark is far too difficult.
For the past few decades I've lived in my own private Uruk, an undersea habitat I constructed to be near my flowers. But, that changed three years ago. Three years ago he became as powerful as he could become in his current form. His greed for power surpassess his sense of self-preservation and the only way that he can get more power is to complete himself. To complete himself, he must finish what he started with me. He must take the rest of my blood, my flesh, and my soul.
For these past three years I have ran. Because of our link I cannot hide from him but he cannot sneak up on me. If I keep moving I can elude him forever but I am tired of running. I have a plan to free myself of him. A piece of my essence exists at his core. If I can take that essence back I might be able to survive. I might even be able to win. I came to this ruined city to get the help of a vampire named Mara. She agreed and my plan has already been set into motion. All I have to do is wait for my enemy to arrive.
This brings us back to the question you asked when I manhandled those giant leaping mouths. I hope you see why you had to hear the whole story to fully understand my answer. Why did I hire three amateur bodyguards when I am obviously superior to all of you?
Great end to a great story. That said, I never cease to be amused by your particular typos, "The magic glanced off of me armlessly..." being today's classic.
So Aina suicided, huh?
Why didn't Harlequin bring her back? He's powerful enough to do so.
Why didn't Harlequin bring her back? He's powerful enough to do so.
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