TRANSDIMENSIONAL TROUBLES

[Maharg67]

FACTS AND NOTES OF HOPEFULLY POSSIBLE INTEREST AND USE

 

DEMIGHOUL: ghoul that looks like a norm though some look like they have such as ACNE or birthmarks

SEMIGHOUL: ghoul that looks like a norm with relatively little markings.

MIDGHOUL: typical ghoul with noticeable damage, ghoulification effects

SUBGHOUL: ghoul that is heavily marked and also distorted in other ways.

 

TRANSJUMPER: One who is able to go between transdimensional realms in a special way and has other, related and not so related powers.

TRANSJUMPING: The process of jumping between transdimensional realms as carried out by transjumpers.

 

POINT LOOKOUT: Point Lookout on our world is in the USA of North America but on this other world, Alternate Earth, it is a large cape thrusting southwards of the main part of the continent of Centralia, being lower than the disk (a vast mesa) and divided off by both the Barrier Mountains, South Ranges, and a great cliff face.

 

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Edited October 23, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

1:1

 

GRAHARG OF THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN

GHOULS ON THE RUN AT POINT LOOKOUT

 

It was the smell of the Wastelands that the transdimensional traveller found disturbing. There was nothing quite like the odours of left over destruction of the Doomsday super-weapons, of wild growing mutated plants, of strange animals of which some were more mutated than others, of pools of bubbling gas from which rose great bubbles that popped in the air, of the ruins made of smart-marterials that kept them in some good state of repair, of the river flowing in the near distance filled and bordered with strange life.

 

A transjumper always went lightly as possible. Weight was important and so was volume but less so. One could take power systems but had to deactivate them during the seconds of the actual transjumping process between realms. So he had on a light exoskeleton power armoured research and exploration suit, a LEPARES or Lepares. It had some stealth capacity so he crouched close to a willomootha tree, a mutated willow tree but far more deadly with its branch tentacles. The willomootha tree did not know he was there, thanks to the Lepares, and Bobby was busy draining off some of its sap through a clever device.

 

This was not his home world. This was AltEarthB01a that was covered, landwise, largely by Wastelands. Not that his people were much better off as they suffered from the approach of an ice age. His people were looking for new home worlds to transmigrate to, even if it was not all the population but much of it so as to decrease the pressure on resources back on the home world.

 

In the distance something moved. It was ghouls, a group of them in various stages of ghoulification right from the common one to the lightly marked semighouls and the very twisted subghouls. No demighouls were there for those who looked like norms but were ghouls, were quite rare. Ghouls in varied form of body-armour, with backpacks of equipment and supplies, with weapons and tools of various kinds. They were not to be mixed up with the zhouls who were weirdly marked, distorted and more savage than subghouls. This group offered no harm to any who offered them no harm and yet he sensed fear in them, sensed that they were fleeing from something.

 

He stopped taking sap, the sample bottle was near full anyway, moved away from the sleepy tree in the growing brightness of the day and was soon approaching the ghouls openly. They looked at him, his grey coloured Lepares that was designed to look like a kind of local world power suit, and noted his laser-rifle was over his shoulder and his other weapons were holstered or sheathed. Except the special ones that were hidden, of course, being his real weapons.

 

The ghouls smelt of fear, of dark and tired existence, of living in a horrible great swamp-forestland. There were twelve of them, some being children and two being babies in slings. They wore rough clothes and mixed body-armour, backpacks, backsacks and some pulled handcarts. There were three big tough swamphound dogs.

 

They stopped when they saw him and the odd emblems fused to the chest of his armour that proclaimed he could do wondrous tricks. He opened his armoured, polarised visor and exposed his smooth skinned face and eyes of a face that was almost too perfect in refinement and bone structure. He was beautiful and his eyes were deep blue.

 

The ghoul leader stepped foreward, a midghoul of the common ghouls kind between semighoul and subghoul classifications. He was frowning softly. Then he spoke in Esperanto, a language that had been taught to many on that world by super geniuses who had promised to turn that world into a paradise. "One of the Beautiful Ones then, pretending to be a Swamplander, pretending to be of Point Lookout, but coming from somewhere else. You smell wrong, Beautiful One. Still, you don't try to cheat us like those damned Settlers do too often. What do you want?"

 

Graharg smiled, sort of. "I smell Swampfolk Tribals. I take it cannibals are chasing you but cannibals do not normally like to eat ghouls."

 

"But they do like to sacrifise us to their horrible gods and other deities. I suppose you intend to deal with them for us." The ghoul leader shrugged. "What do you want in turn?"

 

"Information!" Graharg gave an odd little shrug inside his special suit. "Now, I can sense eighteen Swampfolk being nine warriors, three technees with biomechanical weapons and three swamp-priests of which one is actually a priestess with a staff. The warriors have a loose sprinkling of Wasteland baseline guns, crossbows, blades and blunts. No advanced projectile weapons, no energy weapons, no bows, which we should be grateful for. Those are BoneBlooders and they are too far from their home territories for this to be good."

 

The ghoul leader snorted. "Yep, you are one of the Beautiful Ones with trickery like that. Even our swamphounds can't smell those Swampfolk scum but you probably know what colour their eyes are."

 

The swamphounds were normally confidently wary of strangeres but they all had sunk down carefully, respectfully with Gaharg as if sensing he was quite powerful. Graharg bent down and rubbed the nearest canine on the head and she wagged her tail madly as if she was a happy puppy. Then he stood straight and nodded to the ghoul leader. He spoke matter of factly as if the confrontation to come almost did not matter to him at all. "Wait here. I will go and deal with the Swampfolk. Then I will return."

 

With a flicker of motion he vanished.

 

The ghoul leader shook his head and breathed out. Dealing with the Beautiful People, the Beautiful Ones, was not always easy. It was odd that these Beautiful Ones seemed oddly sad, somehow lost, even withdrawn somehow and the ghoul realised that despite the attractive appearance of the Beautiful Ones, and their tricks, he did not want to be one.

Edited October 26, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE WEEPING? THE ELDERS OF THE WISE SAY IT WAS WHEN THE BEAUTIFUL ONES REALISED THAT THEY HAD GAINED ALL OF THEIR GREATEST WISHES BUT HAD, IN THE PROCESS, LOST THEIR SOULS.

BOOK OF FALSE ENLIGHTENMENT, THE THIRD AGE OF MADNESS

 

THE BEAUTIFUL ONES CREATED NINETY-NINE PARADISES THAT STILL EXIST; IF YOU ARE TEMPTED TO GO THERE, IF NOTHING OR NOBODY WILL STOP YOU FROM TRYING, THEN HOPEFULLY YOU WILL DIE BEFORE YOU GET THERE; THIS WILL BE THE FAR BETTER OUTCOME FOR YOU.

BOOK OF DREADED PLACES, FORBIDDEN ZONES AND HORRIFIC DESTINATIONS

 

WHEN GRAHARG SLEW THE LAST OF THE BEAUTIFUL ABOMINATIONS, HE WEPT TEARS OF BLOOD OVER THE TWISTED, DEAD BODY OF HIS FORMER SOUL MATE

EPIC OF THE WAR OF ERASURE, CHRONICLE 989.8 OF VOLUME 343.5

 

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Edited October 26, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

1:2

 

GRAHARG OF THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN

KILLING SOME DEMENTED FANATICAL FOLLOWERS OF THE DAEDRAZA

 

Daedraza were dark daedric lesser gods known only on some worlds. Once of Oblivionaza, the Mystic Realms of Oblivion, they had long ago been exiled along with their greater, mediate and lesser daedric followers plus sundry others and other things. On that world five of the Daedraza had settled down in a hidden underworld of cavernlands, cave systems and abandoned bases beneath the great cape that was Point Lookout. That is beneath part of it that was the Maddress Swampforestlands where swamp and forest intermingled in a crazy manner, a patchwork of solid, semisolid and watery areas of much treacherous danger. The Swampfolk of the Maddress had come to forsake older zohoodoo and other dark faiths to become followers of GrezidaMoshra, SheguDagon, Vestu Mahh, SevvemTak and ZashaeDagon. Two were 'cousins' of the mighty MehrunesDagon but it was ZashaeDagon who was easily most powerful of the Maddressan Daedraza.

 

It did not surprise Graharg that these twisted Swampfolk, more twisted than the Tribalfolk that they shared the region with, had come to worship even the darkness of ZashaeDagon because their spirtiual paths, their karma, had been driving them in that direction for a very long time. Yet when he saw the group coming forward and saw nine warriors in blood stained armour, the technicals with their bizarre biomechanical weapons gained as a gift from ZashaeDagon, along with the priests, he sensed more powerful the dark invisible presence of a mediate daedra. ZashaeDagon preferred to use daedric followers that in turn enslaved, enhanced and pushed expendable others into fighting for them. Invisible cuppulaza did so, each infusing itself into a willing victim to enhance his, her or its abilities. Yet cuppulaza could pay a price for this if they failed to leave a dying body in time.

 

The priestess, her spirit sodden in the mire of past dark acts of murder, torture and slavery, screamed with inhuman rage and in her blood red robes, she raised her metallic staff and from it spat a fiery sizzling death-spark at Graharg. Except he was not where she thought he was. The terrible projectile went through the illusion and burned itself out into toxic mud. A big red mudcrab scurried away, a type of creature whose ancestors who had accidentally come through a magical gateway from a world called Nirn, a great continent called Tamriel.

 

The real Graharg stepped into view from behind a tree, aimed his M161A5 Autorifle with integrated 30mm grenadeshell duolauncher, and fired off a shrapnel grenadeshell. It exploded amongst the enemy with a horrific result as did the other grenadeshell that he fired from the other barrel of the duolauncher. Even as the second grenadeshell struck he let loose a burst of caseless slimshot 5.5mm bullets and dropped those that the grenadeshells had not taken care of. He used the deadly projectiles with amazing skill, dropping the grenadeshells just where they would do the most damage and hitting with amazing accuracy with the short bursts of bullets. Yes, he was out to kill but he wanted the deaths to be as quick and painless as possible, which is something that these Swampfolk did not normal want for their very large list of enemies. They preferred torturing their victims.

 

He carefully went through the possessions of the Swampfolk and took items that he could give to the ghouls, that he could use for himself and other items of special study purposes. The last included blood, flesh and hair samples. None of the invisible cuppulaza had escaped, he had made sure of it, but had died with the Swampfolk. To his disappointment he found no solid data on what the Swampfolk were doing so far from their home territories except a crude map with some basic information and what was a dark magical homing device, a bone-pointalong with a copper base shaped like a shallow half globe.

 

So called magic was far more than it seemed, was damned dangerous to meddle with and that included so called good magic. He destroyed anything dangerous that he would not take with him, heaped up the bodies on dry ground (dry by local standards) and then he had the ghouls come to him.

Edited October 26, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

THE M161A3, M161A4, M161A5 AUTORIFLE

 

This one weapon was mass produced in amazingly large numbers before the war because it was rugged, accurate, reliable, could take a wide range of addons and was quite easy to master at a basic level. It had special features such as a multiple targetting scope with zoom, the already mentioned break-open double shot grenadeshell launcher, a special over-top hardpoint for a special pulselaser or a special handlong missile launcher, a butt cache for small items and a built in bottle opener. Though the bottle opener could be a little awkward to use, many soldiers came to see it as a life saver, a special back up for opening bottles of beer or even preserved milk, popular coffee syrup and such like.

 

At first only manufactured by the United States of Greater America by the GunTek Corporation, a TekCorp that focused on a relatively short list of standard weapons, it was soon being manufactured by other US corporations, by a US neogovernment corporation and, under special license, to a few chosen foreign corporations. There were a few variations such as carbines, light machineguns and a special ops model but the autorifle remained the most common version.

 

While the M161A3 was built in fairly large numbers, the improved M161A4 was easily the most common made and the even more improved M161A5 was about as common as older M161A3s.

 

There was the M161C2 autocarbine, the M161LMG3 and the stripped down special ops M161SA1 with only a grenadeshell monolauncher, no special hardpoint and a folding butt (it still had the bottle opener which on this weapon was easier to use).

 

In the PostDD (Post Doomsday) Era, the weapon was very popular as it was relatively common, easy to maintain and had other bonuses. It became used by many military, paramilitary, security and other forces, even by those who had access to more advanced weapons.

Edited October 28, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

1:3

 

GRAHARG OF THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN

TRAVELLING WITH SOME GHOULS

 

Somehow he ended up travelling with the ghouls who turned out to be refugees fleeing from increasing battles between Tribalfolk and Swampfolk. Except that was a generalisation as large number of Swampfolk had an uneasy alliance with the Tribals and the Swampfolk had a few Tribalfolk on their side who were of the kind that fringed the barrier between the two peoples. The ghouls had gained some useful and semiuseful stuff from the dead Swampfolk. Much they could not or would not use and Graharg could hardly blame them for that as the Swampfolk clothes was incredibly filthy. The bodies and stuff not taken, was dropped into an area of toxic suckdown mud and it all quickly vanished.

 

Soon Graharg was carrying three puppies, who not knowing he was to be feared, wagged their tails happily and tried to lick his face when they had the chance to do so. The older dogs followed him and a young woman happily enough, having forgotten that he was to be feared. The other ghouls were amused or bemused by this activity. The young woman ghoul kept looking at Graharg in wonder. The ghouls had picked up whispers about him, some odd ideas such as he was not truly human and that he was not only immortal, he was many thousands of years old. Graharg would not discuss such matters normally; he only smiled or grinned or frowned and refused to do so. Only fools pushed him too far.

 

Graharg learned that a war was being waged between a loose coalition of Tribals, with some odd allies, and Swampfolk followers of the Daedraza, along with some odd allies of theirs. What had started out as a few raids, some skirmishes between groups, some sabotage of traps, had turned into a savage series of attacks, counter attacks, ambushes and even one bigger battle that the Swampfolk had lost very badly. So far the Swampfolk were not doing greatly but neither were they being pushed back beyond their initial territorial gains.

 

He normally did not like to get involved in local conflicts but he sensed that this one was very important somehow, that there was much more behind it than was at first obvious. This was not just the typical ebb and flow of local powerful factions and alliances of factions.

 

When they got to the large 'open' settlement of ValenWood, he left the ghouls there and went to see a man there called Braden Wakenn. An open settlement was one that did not care if somebody was a ghouls or a mutie of some other kind or a rogue android or some other fringer type as long as one kept the law and did not cause too much trouble. The settlement had once been a camping site, a place of beautiful, peaceful forest and a large park with some services for visitors. The smart-materials made structures of the old camping area, always self repairing, could still be seen though they had been modified and were now part of a cluster of many buildings. Like many settlements, ValenWood was based on a LifeVault that was once hidden beneath it and which had opened up to send people out onto the surface about twenty years after Doomsday. LifeVault00022A10 still functioned and was a vital part of ValenWood.

Edited October 26, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN

 

Even as Graharg did what he had to do in the Maddress Swampforestlands, others of the Chosen Thirteen were active.

 

OummuO, the very alien entity, was drifting across the Wastelands of the small continent of Centralia that lay eastwards of North America. Drifting and observing, recording data and, sometimes, doing an act of care, of kindness, of courage. OummuO was one but many made up OummuO. OummuO was the Chosen Prime of the Chosen Thirteen. OummuO was in appearance many drifting semitransparent spheres of soft glowing yellow whiteness but most could not see OummuO unless OummuO chose it to be so.

 

As Graharg of the Beautiful Ones was of the Three Secondaries, so was Angelisara of the Angelics of the Haevra, the opposites of the Daedra. She was busy then as she made her way on foot across the Wastelands as followers and others came with her in slowly increasing numbers.

 

Then there was Trazen of the Yetarna, a cousin people of the zetans but far less aggressive, far more compassion and more advanced but in fewer numbers. Like the zetans, the yetans were nomadic in motherships and seminomadic in motherbases. Trazen was in orbit in a smaller saucership and was making plans to get down to the surface of the world past the Skynet and its many aggressive network-systems, roboremotes and robots.

 

Then there were the Chosen Nine of the Chosen Thirteen.

 

The First Three of the Chosen Nine were three sets of twins being one female, one male and one neobaby human of either gender, each set of triplets being linked semiautonomously through a secondary mentality.

 

Jasmine, Jadekin and Jessy Ashworth had been born in TekVault0101 of multiple purpose design, a primary vault and many subvaults, semivaults and demivaults. They were close to having their twenty-firt birthdays. Jasmine was female, Jadekin male and Jessy was a female neobaby. TekVault0101 was one of the biggest and most important of the TekVaults, or so it was officially stated as being.

 

Dannie, Dessie and Diffy Meolong were special triplets born in RivetCity, having grown up there, RivetCity being a former maritime museum including three ships, boats, special wharf jetties and other facilities. Dannie was male, Dessie was female and Diffy was a female neobaby. They also looked forward to their coming 21st birthday. RivetCity was the capital city of the young and struggling United Citystates of Centralia, the UCC.

 

Bobby, Buffy and Benny Bobalong were born and bred of the Clansfolk of the seminomadic Clansdom, a people of alternate technologies, odd abilities and exotic cultural beliefs. Powerful healers, artisans and warriors. The triplets were born in and grew up in the Clansfolk Citystate of GaeEarthara. Bobby was male, Buffy was female and Benny was a male neobaby. They were almost 21 years old.

 

The Second Three of the Chosen Nine were three sets of twins, each being a special entity sharing a secondary mentality.

 

Sonya and Saran Pollis (female/male) of the super virtual reality realm of Perfectalia, a domain based on Centralia and being as big. The twins are in truth confined to PerfectCity. They are close to being 21 years of age.

 

Ryan and Raul Patriot (male/male) of the EagleEnclavedom (the EagleEnclave?) almost 21 each and arriving at Centralia along with many EagleEnclavers. Distant cousins to the Patriot Thirteen, including World President Jack Patriot Jackson.

 

Mandie and Mindie Lyons (female/female), younger sisters to Sarah Lyons, of the Orderhood of Steel. Soon to be 21. Soon to arrive with the second big air-convoy.

 

The Third Three of the Chosen Nine were three individuals that were indeed more than they seemed. At the time they were working together on the shores of the Central Sea, the Fresh Water Sea, that was almost perfectly circular at the centre of the vast disk shaped mesa of Central Centralia. They were hunting for something mysterious, elusive and dangerous in a place that was mysterious, confusing and dangerous.

 

Brainic the Android (more than just a android).

 

MasterMacho the Supermutant (more than just a massemoth).

 

EddieZero the Supersoldier (more than just a SEART)

 

And thus it was.

 

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Edited October 28, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

1:4

 

GRAHARG OF THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN

IN VALENWOOD (SETTLEMENT) SEEKING SOME ANSWERS FROM BRADEN WAKENN

 

Graharg had done some good for the ghouls before leaving them. He had healed the sickness of a baby boy, had helped an elder woman ghoul with her hip and had fixed up some devices. In turn the ghouls had given him some very good local information. Now he walked carefully along raised foothpaths between sturdy buildings on stilts. The ground was quite firm by Maddress standards but that did not mean much. The LifeVault beneath the settlement processed materials taken to it by the settlers and turned it into useful goods. The buildings tended to be drab but well made. People tended to be drab in garb and busy, always busy trying to survive. He passed workshoptories, mixtures of workshops and shops operating as small factories, that produced in turn wooden barrels, leather bags of varied kinds and arrows with different types of arrowheads. Despite the swamps, the wood of the forest trees of Maddress was sometimes very good.

 

The man he sought lived squeezed between a semi-open salvage yard and a weaponers workshoptory manufacturing small numbers of basic hunting rifles. As he passed the weaponers, some young thugs grinned at him and one made a stupid comment about Graharg's autorifle. Graharg ignored the fool and found himself facing the small wooden door and front of the Valenwood as he stopped and turned to one side. The door read EDUCATIONAL AND REFERENCE SERVICES OF VALENWOOD; Offering One On One and Small Group Services and Information Trading. Will buy and sell books, holotapes, audiotapes and other media of at least reasonable quality.

 

He reached out to knock but stopped when one of the thugs jeered. "Would do that if I was you. Mr Paul D Smith paid us to have any fools stay away from that ugly old book reader until he has completed a job for the Progressers Guild."

 

Progressers Guild? He had heard of no such Guild. The Guilds that more or less flourished in Centralia were the Traders, Artisans, Scholars, Mercenaries, Regulators, Transporters and a few others. There was a fanatical organisation called the Progressor Rights Party that believed that only so called pure genetically endowed peoples had the right to exist. They were the Nazis of the PostDD times, the people who added even more hate to a world that had seen far too much of it.

 

The thugs were 'spiced', a local term meaning they were out of their thick minds on local spiceflower seeds, a cheap and nasty way of coping with the harsh existence of Point Lookout of Centralia. This meant they could not see the illogic of taking on somebody like him. So he stunned them, moving with amazing precision, speed and skill to do so. He left the two bodies lying to one side, out of the foot traffic, as he went into the long, narrow building.

 

Braden Wakenn was there in the cramped, oddly cosy part studio-library, part crowded learning area and partly a shop. Braden Wakenn had quarters of sorts below in a cramped basement shelter type chamber. But the old, red skinned man was dead, was sprawled across the floor in his rather too brightly and colourful but poorly colour coordinated robes. Graharg at once crouched by his side, sighed and touched the man's forehead. Then he gave a mild grin for he could do something about this, or at least he could be a conduit for the Light if it chose to do this.

 

He lay a hand on the head of the corpse and another on the solar plexus. A sparkling shimmer ran through the body and then Braden Wakenn, looking noticeably younger and healthier, made an odd groaning noise and opened his eyes. He spoke. "You brought me back from the dead. Would you like a cup of tea? I certainly could do with one."

 

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Edited October 28, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

MISH MASH TECHNOLOGIES OF THE WASTELANDS

 

The technologies of that world were wildly varied and in a confused state. So called primitiveness existed amongst the majority of survivors and descendents of survivors. There were the Tribals of many kinds, those akin to the Tribals like the Swampfolk of Point Lookout, and a loose mixture of kingdoms, chiefdoms, queendoms, faithdoms and other struggling civilizations of basic technologies.

 

Yet there were also the surviving Vaultfolk in the TekVaultNetwok of TekVaults in theory linked by very special and advanced technologies, that in theory thrived on a range of other such technologies. Created by the TekCorporations, especially VaultTek, the TekVaults were hidden underground self sustaining cities with many secret aspects to them. They were supposedly much deeper buried than were the much more numerous and small, less sophisticated LifeVaults.

 

Even more secretive were the Claves of the Enclaven that was divided into the Nine Enclaves that each was going to take control of part of the world when the Great Reclaimation took place. The Enclaven would take control of the TekVaults, of the TekVaultNetwork, and incorporate it into the grand project to rebuild the world into a wondrous paradise. Except the Enclavers had not shown up and like the Vaultfolk, their fate remained much of a mystery to the Wastelanders.

 

So the Wastelands had a pyramid structure of technologies with that could be seen as four layers rising upwards, each becoming more advanced but smaller.

 

The base level was muskets, crossbows, sailboats, wooden barrels, the riding of horses, animal drawn vehicles but there were areas where even many of these technologies had been lost. These were the Basewide Technologies.

 

Next up came motorised transports of a basic kind, basic bicyles, even basic steam-engines, semiautomatic or automatic guns, biofuel driven engines, propellor driven aircraft, airships, limited mass production, telephone communications and basic wireless services. The line between this and the next layer up was often blurred for the next had also more advanced electronics, tape player-recorders, radars, basic robotics and so forth. It could be said that technologies of the Third Level were often more advanced versions of the Technologies of the Second Level.

 

Anything above this was very special being true robots, true artificial intelligence, energy weapons, antigravity lifters, smart-material production processes, mattercating processes, regenerative medicines, rejuvenation treatments, cybernetics as in true cyborgs, cyberlinked interactive exoskeleton power armour, super virtual reality and more. This level was confused, often exotic and too often dangerous to use.

 

But just to confuse matters there were other technological influences be they weapons left behind by raiding parties of zetan aliens, the biomechanical weapons of the Maddressa, experimental devices looted from half destroyed secret research and development bases and much else.

 

In other words the Wastelands Technologies Pyramid could only be taken, at best, as a set of guidelines.

 

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Edited October 28, 2010 by Maharg67

[Maharg67]

1:5

 

GRAHARG OF THE CHOSEN THIRTEEN

TALKING WITH THE RECENTLY DEAD BRADEN WAKENN

 

An incense stick burned its smell across the chamber as Graharg sipped tea with milk and honey stirred into it, then placed the cup down on the table. He sat on a wooden chair as did Braden. The other man put his metal mug down and shook his head in wonder. "The Light chose to bring me back and showed me enough to wake me up good. Such a fool I have been, an arrogant fool who assumed he knew more about people and the world than he ever did. I have my son and daughter to apologise to. You come from a world very much like this one that is not Wastelands but which faces an ice age. You come here seeking knowledge and ways of reaching new home worlds. Yet there is far more to the story, much more."

 

Graharg nodded. "My people of my world are in truth a coalition of many peoples from many worlds who have fled from a terrible situation that has links to this world and what happened here, to Doomsday on this world and the creation of the Wastelands. This Mr Paul D Smith spoke to you."

 

Braden shuddered softly. "Spoke to me? He was no mere man though he looked like one. He sent a letter to me using a thug courier, along with a bag of EIDs that the thug was clearly too frightened to touch, and asked me to gather and summerise a good deal of information, even stuff that sounded not so important, about local events in recent months. Well I did that and gathered a report and then I wrote out a conclusion. I did as best a job as I could under the conditions but he was not pleased. Not that he cared about the money he had given to me. I got the feeling he has plenty more of that at his disposal. No, he just wanted something from me that I had failed to get for him so he just lifted me off the ground with one hand and snapped my neck with his other. Do you know him?"

 

Graharg snorted even as a large ginger cat leapt lightly onto his lap, made herself comfortable and was soon sleeping all curled up. "This Mr Paul D Smith, I sensed his true nature and he is a powerful greater daedric servant of SevvemTak, one of the Daedraza of daedric lesser gods that were thrown out of the Daedric Oblivion Realms. The daedra are spiritual aliens of sorts, as are others who come from similar realms. They are not purely of the spiritual or the material realms but of a distorted in between state. Five of the Daedraza are to be found in the Maddressa swamforestlands and four are weaker than the other, even combined in power. SewemTak is one of the four weaker ones. She now classes herself as the local daedric goddess of Swampforestland Agressive Existence but who really takes her seriously except a few hundred twisted Swampfolk followers? Yet it seems she has at least one powerful servant unless that servant was playing false, is actually serving another daedric power such as ZashaeDagon. ZashaeDagon, poor relation of the mighty MehrunesDagon, is easily most powerful and cunning of the Maddressan Daedraza. He is easily the most brutal and ambitious of the five which is one reason the others have formed an uneasy alliance against him."

 

Braden nodded. "I would have denounced all of that information as nonsense before my Rebirth of the Light. Now I know better but I can not stay in Valenwood. I have become of the Awoken and the locals do not like my kind. I am enhanced of mind, body and spirit."

 

"Which means also of the psychic, which is something you need to be careful with." Graharg sighed. "I would ask you to remain here while I make arrangements to get not just you but all of your possessions to somewhere special. The Awaken need you to be here and the Light would ask for your service as would the Beautiful Ones seeking redemption. I will stay here for a few days until I can get you a bodyguard, an assistant and a companion. These will be humans of a special nature. You will sense the truth of them when you meet them. We need to have a good story to explain what is happening and a golden oldie has come to mind; a distant relation has died, a man who secretly admired some of your better essays on the Point Lookout Wastelands history. So he had sent to you a fair sized inheritance in EIDs, golden-caps and Bankers Guild official credit. My people will make sure all the proper paper work and electronic data is in place."

 

The older looking man frowned. "I wonder what he was after, that is the Mr Paul B Smith character."

 

"So do I!? Graharg looked around. "Mr Paul B Smith expected, or at least hoped strongly, that you would come up with what he wanted. Perhaps the answer lies here somewhere in this amazing little domain of yours."

 

Braden Wakenn grinned. "Than after the dregs from the teapot, a second cuppa each, we will start looking."

 

It was a good idea or at least, for the moment, they came up with no better one.

Edited October 26, 2010 by Maharg67