The Garage BandKazren ventures inside the Myrmidon with Dust - the former asks the voice for permission first, which it grants happily. They march up the ramp, into the interior of the wide, though low, vehicle. It seems like the Myrmidon could carry a good platoon's worth of men, more if the heavy machinery put into the walls on both sides were removed. The voice explains these are the modifications made to the vehicle by the gods - devices and spaces to fulfill a variety of needs.
The most simple are the bunks, six of them on the right side. They don't look like they offer too much in the way of comfort, but it's better than the metal floor. At the far front is the driver's hole, crammed full of screens, switches, levers and buttons without clear purpose. The wheel, at least, is familiar. Two other seats are behind the driver's, on the right and left. One seems to be connected to the autocannon controls. The other sits before more machinery - presumably some other operator. From a cursory look, it would seem to let whoever's there fiddle with engines, targeting, and seemingly every other system on board.
More arcane is the man-sized tank set in the wall on the left, with an extensive control panel next to it. The machine speaks up when they come to it;
'The gods have seen fit to gift this vehicle with a sacred gene-altering and graft station. If you are deemed worthy of the honor, the gods may allow you to upgrade your mortal form onboard the Myrmidon. Rejoice, champions!'The voice explains it to be a fully automatic machine; simply step inside, and the tank will operate on you. The absence of a thinking element is somewhat worrying, but the gods are capable of great wonders, even from their distant strongholds.
Next to the augmentation tank is something the voice explains to be a 'replicator and modification station', which, according to the voice, channels the gods' power to create something out of nothing. It's god-technology far beyond the champions' understanding, and should supply them with all their basic ammo, fuel and basic consumable needs. Recycled sustenance gruel may prove dreadfully dull in the long run, but then, most of the champions no longer have the organs or taste buds to enjoy foods, anyway. The crafting table will also allow easy and assisted modification and upgrading of weapons and equipment.
The last piece of interest is a large altar to the gods. Using this, the voice says, you will be able to reach the gods with your prayers anywhere you go. The more tech-savvy among you suspect it to be a high-tech comms device of divine machinery. It is connected to the replicator; as long as the altar functions, the gods may send items and gifts to their champions through it. This, presumably, is how they would acquire most of the 'materials' for the gene-tank.
The big engine, closed off from the rest of the space, the voice proclaims with what seems like pride, is a 'divine fusion engine'. It should be capable of unbroken running for months. The voice informs the champions the gods have barred them from touching it or interfering with its divine mechanisms. It is another piece that seems to function on a level of technology that may as well be magic - or divine wonder, rather.
'Questions, honored champions?'HP: 40/40
AP: 20/20 [-4 to all Damage]
Skills: Aggressive FighterAbilities: None
Equipment:+
Hybrasi Greatsword [Dam: 5/Speed: 1/Acc: -1/Special: None]
+
Light Shotgun [Dam:2/RoF:3/Acc:+0/Clip: 9/Mod Slots: 2/Special:
Scatter,
Close Range II] [
9/9]
+
Oathsworn Armor [AP: 20, -4 to all Damage]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
HP: 20/20
AP: 50/50 [-4 to all Damage, regenerates +5 AP every turn where not hit]
Skills: Augmented Strength,
Preserver's AuraAbilities: None
Equipment:+Bio-Alloy Shield [AP: 20/20, -4 to all Damage, Shield Use: +0]
+
Bio-Alloy Form [AP: 50, -4 to all Damage, regenerates +5 AP every turn where not hit]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
ArliaLeaving the garage without another word, Arlia wanders over to her mistress' camp. She doesn't exactly take a direct path, eyes scanning the earth and going where she sees anything worth investigating. The scarce plant life here is hardy and tough, dark, twisting roots and spiked brambles collecting moisture from the air. This used to be a stronghold, and perhaps the effects of that linger, but for the most part, life is as hard to find as on most of the waste. It takes an expert eye to get anything useful - but she has that.
[2+1=3] Most of the plants and insects she finds are perfectly common, without any useful applications. Life seems to flourish nearer to Aeraimua's camp, but she's not been here long enough for anything to properly grow. The Healers could do well with this place, given enough time, but likely it would just decay and collapse after they had left. She does get her hands on a scuttling red beetle that, when crushed and eaten, has a slight numbing effect. Some tribes of the wastes like to snack on them before going to battle.
With that, Arlia heads into the camp proper. The tents here are made with wood and leaves from some oasis. Two tribal warriors, their skin marked with intricate animal patterns put there by the will of their goddess, put their fists against their hearts when she passes them. She is to be honored, like all champions of the wild goddess. The thermal spears they carry are much like Arlia's bolas - old and new intertwined - though the also carry long-barreled rifles on their backs, wrapped in animal hide and bone. Others of their kind mill about the camp behind them, alongside other servants, dressed in the way of settled people. Some men and women sport fur, or slitted eyes, or horns - little gifts from the goddess. They have proven their loyalty, and now enjoy the rewards. Children also run around the camp, happy, safe - it reminds her how much of an oasis a god's presence is, out on the wastes.
She passes large, round huts of other shamans, witch doctors and bone-men, some of whom call out to her in respect. Smoke arises from some, the door-shroud drawn closed - the services of shamans are sought after by others in the camp. The future can be found in the bones, or the guts, or in the shapes of falling sand, they say, and sometimes they tell the truth.
On a large boulder, Aeraimua sits. She has taken the form of a nimble deer - shedding the powerful and deadly shape of the fortress. Aeraimua looks at her once, but turns way - she seems to have said all she had to say.
It will be a long journey - she could obtain materials for her craft, or weapons and equipment, from the servants here. Some may give them freely, but it is doubtful; traders are much the same, wherever you are, though some may think they could honor their mistress by gifting something to her servant.
HP: 30/30
AP: 20/20 [+2 to Close Range Damage, -4 to all other Damage.]
Skills: Wasteland HealerAbilities: *
Swarm Scouting [No cooldown]
Equipment:+
Charged Bolas [Dam:3/RoF:1/Acc:+0/'Clip':3/Mod Slots: None/Special: Stunning (-1)] [
3/3]
+
Antique Sixshooter [Dam:4/RoF:2/Acc:-1/Clip:6/Mod Slots: 3 (Free)/Special: None] [
6/6]
+
Wilder Aegis [AP: 20, +2 Close Range Damage, -4 other Damage. 3 turn cooldown to activate after being shattered.]
+
Crushed Redlash Beetle [+1 to Combat Roll for 1 turn when used]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
The EverchildThe Everchild seeks out those she knows in the camp. Soon enough she's found Eryde, a young warrior woman Father has sometimes told to accompany her. She seemed happy at the Everchild's side on those times, and smiles when she sees her now. They chat of idle things while touring the camp, but when the Everchild asks her to come with them, she shakes her head and casts down her sight.
'I am sorry,
ma'llen. It is not my place. You must go alone; though I will pray for you each night, so perhaps you may hear me, even so distant, when you dream.'
She hesitates, and presses something into the Everchild's free hand. It seems to be a stone, unremarkable except for a painted symbol - sort of like a circle with two lines above it - in blue on it. She has seen Eryde carry these sort of trinkets around before. She smiles again. 'This is a kinstone, dear one. It is touched by the souls of my ancestors... the blood of my blood, now dead. I will ask them to look over you for me. Keep it, and they will find you even in the darkest places.'
She looks into the distance. A dust storm seems to be brewing in the distance, though it won't get here for a while yet. Her next words are soft and quiet. 'Perhaps it's best that you go now..'
HP: 15/15
AP: 40/40 [-3 to all Damage]
Skills: Machine Resistance,
Machine MobilityAbilities: None
Equipment:+
Boomer Gun [Dam:3/RoF:1/Acc:-1/Clip:6/Mod Slots: 1 (Free)/Special:
Close Range III] [
6/6]
+
Robotic Body [AP: 40, -3 to all Damage]
+3 Self-Repair Kits [Heal +15 AP when used]
+
KinstoneFavor: 0
Funds: 1500*
***
FenrikFenrik ignores the approaching servants of Nilvath and slips away. The snow cat doesn't bother him again, and soon he's in the garage with the others. He grumbles and keeps his Magbow close to heart despite their presence.
HP: 40/40
Shields: 2/4 Resistance [Absorb 3-6 damage per hit]
Skills: Born to Run,
StealthyAbilities: None
Equipment: +
Magbow [Dam: 3/RoF:1/Acc:+0/Clip:10/Mod Slots None/Special:
Long Range IV] [
10/10]
+
Burst Shielder [Can take 4 Hits before shattering. Absorbs 3-6 damage per Hit. +1 Shield Regen.]
Favor: 0
Funds: 1500*
---
I left the campers some chance to go around still, but they're free to head straight for the car. It's better classified as an APC-slash-tank than any 'truck', anyway, Ms. Everchild.
Author
Topic: Elysium - A World of A Thousand Gods (Chapter I) (Read 15830 times)