The Adventure of Gravy in Bluespace, Part 1. (Note: Title may not reflect actual content)

The following takes place in an alternate future, where electricity was never invented. Instead, an ancient art was discovered: the art of runecrafting. Society evolved around these runes, creating logic-calculators, weapons, displays, even starships and space stations.

Our heroes find themselves on one of these many stations, being bustled into an elevator along with a number of others, not entirely sure how they got there.

The elevator is close, cramped and claustrophic as it plummets at unnerving speeds into the belly of the station. Brightly-garbed people of varying ages clump together in the centre of elevator, while men and women dressed in browns and greys stand in each corner, their hands clasped around emblazoned metal hafts.

Slowly, the elevator comes to a halt, towering metal doors opening with a soft hum onto a vast hall. Row upon row of wooden pews, masterfully carved and etched with a score of emblems, stretch out towards the front of the hall, where a solitary man stands atop a podium, garbed in a chain coat of pure white metal. His hands rest upon a bright white lecturn of solid Arkenite, the substance on which runes have the most power.

The guards step from the elevator first, moving forwards to positions at the ends of each row. One, the largest, remains by the elevator. Standing aside the door, he gestures with a hand towards the group in the elevator who, in turn, begin to file into the room.

Sishio struts out from somewhere amid the group, making his way brazenly to a pew near the front the of great hall, seating himself with a loud thud. Newt and Gravy slowly make their way to seats further back, the former stopping to take a long glance at the outline of a mythical beast, delicately carved into the woodwork of the bench.

“Oh wow, somebody spent a lot of time working on that body..” mumbled Newt as he took a seat. One of the nearby guards slowly turned and, eyeing Newt up and down, gave her a soft wink and thanks.

“My body’s better!” came a shout from a pew a few rows further forward. This was met by a harsh shushing from another of the nearby guards.

As the last of people take their seats, the chain-clad man hits a long, metal rod against the bright-white of lecturn. The lights rapidly dim, leaving only the man illuminated by the soft glow of the lecturn. A sudden silence sweeps the room, not even a single whisper audible within the murky darkness. After what seems like age, the man at the front begins to speak.

Space, Magic, Zombies and the Wild West – Part 2

The long awaited part two has arrived! Our adventurers find themselves back in town with a quest, whilst Kiva enjoys some fine drink.  There are a few new characters in this tale, as a few new players joined the game, so don’t mind a few inconsistencies if you’re into that sort of thing.

This is part 2 of 3. I’ll publish part 3 when I finish it, which should be the final installment. Anyway. Enjoy!

——————

The sandcrawler slowly came to halt at the far end of the town, its engine flickering, fading and dying to leave only the sound of the driving storm, battering against the buildings. The party slowly and silently undid the doors, dragging themselves out into the cold, rough night.

“I got a bad feelin’ about this.” muttered Vlad, barely audible over the howling of wind and hissing of sand.

A faint moan seemed to echo about the town, though perhaps is was simply the wind throwing itself at buildings afresh. Scotty grunted, slowly rolling his shoulders and cracking his knuckles, before squinting, hunting the murky shadows with his eyes. Joseph motioned towards the hospital, some thirty metres of so away, nearly invisible through the haze of sand.

“On your toes. And stay quiet. Don’t shoot unless you have to.”
James nodded. “Right. I don’t want to be stuck out in this dark any longer than I have to.”
“I have a bow, not that noisy unless I miss” offered Vlad, gesturing lightly to the strung weapon hanging over his shoulder.
Joseph nodded in agreement. “Good idea Vlad.”
“It is… too bad I only have five arrows in my quiver though.” He gave an unconvincing smirk at this, before rapidly turning back to face the faded town.

Slowly, the men made their way over towards the hospital. It was a tall building of peeling wood, scorched and marked from the driving storms and baking sun. The once-clean windows now lay a reddish brown, barely visible beneath a thick layer of caked on dirt and grime. The door however was pristine steel, carefully maintained and reinforced with long, sturdy bars, locked into an outer frame with heavy mechanical clamps. Beside it sat a small keypad, dusted with sand but giving off a faint, glowing, blue light.

“Okay. Let me use my pass. Cover me.” uttered Joseph as he pulled out a small, digital card from one of his jacket’s pockets. With a swift swipe, the clamps snapped back and the door began to open with a faint, pressurised hissing.
“Welcome Dr. Mainliner.” came a distinctly feminine voice from a previously-hidden speaker.
“I hope nobody got in here. Hi MINA.”
“Hey, nifty introduction” chortled James.
“Well.. Nobody said the job didn’t have at least some perks. She’s a computer. A relic from the war.”
“Negative Dr. Mainliner. There we no attempts to access this facility in your absence.”
A couple more party members broke out in smiles.
“I like it.”
“Yeah. Nifty.”
“Thanks MINA”, continued Joseph, “Seal the door behind us and warn us of contacts.”
The party began to filter through the door. As Vlad entered, the last of the party, the computer recited: “Affirmative. Locking down external airlock and initiating security measures. Welcome back.”
“Right”, exclaimed Joseph, clasping his hands together with a vigorous rubbing. “Let’s get to work!”

——

The starport was mostly deserted. Nothing moved outside of the tall network of metallic buildings, only a few floodlights casting a hazy, intermittent light across the compound.
Kiva struggled, the sand twirling about her ankles and burying itself within her hair, towards the main hatch. Lifting the ID that hung around her neck, she swiped it against the small, flat panel beside the door, which promptly opened with a faint but audible hiss.

She staggered in as the door shut behin her, brushing the sand and dirt from her blouse and skirt, as well as shaking some from her hair. Looking a little more decent, she begins to make her way towards her office. As she passed reception, the receptionist gave a quick, puzzled glance her way, but quickly turned back to the thick magazine that lay open on the console.

Swiping her card against a similar panel, Kiva entered her office. It was a sparsely decorated space; chrome-coated steel chairs, lined with velvet, sat on either side of a spotless, chrome-trimmed wooden desk, populated solely by a gold-leafed nameplate, computer and intercom. A single palm tree stood in each corner of the room, lulling lazily in the artificial heat.

Walking hurridly in, she closed the door with a soft click before collapsing tiredly onto one of the chairs. Reaching down, she opened one of the smaller drawers at the base of the desk, removing a solitary bottle of vintage champagne and a small, handcrafted glass. Without hesitation she removed the cork with a satisfying pop, letting it foam over the chrome of the desk. Placing the bottle with revere on the desk, after having filled her glass, she slowly puts the yellow fizz to her lips and drinks, allowing the intense flavour to grace her tongue.

With a sudden bang, the door flies open and the receptionist bursts in, her face red and flushed, her bosom heaving.
“Ma’am! Have you seen the news? The reports from town?”.
Kiva raises an eyebrow, setting the glass down on the desk.
“Don’t tell me. These.. people… have deemed marriage to a sonic-pick legal?”
“N..No ma’am! There’s reports of assaults. Murders! Riots! I don’t know… they all just seem to be… be.. standing there now. All save a few!”
“Oh, yes, that reminds me. I believe my crawler driver fell asleep on the job, arranging a reprimand is in order.”

“Ahem.. yes ma’am. I will look into it right away.”
The receptionist looks as though she is about to say something, but then quickly looks away, looking a little sheepish. She steps out through the door which quietly closes behind her.
Kiva, taking another slow sip of her drink, flicks on the computer display to check the news. A couple of articles flash up brightly on the screen.
“Massacre on Jutan! Hundreds killed! New medical advances in colonoscopic technology! “Pear” share prices dropping rapidly!”
“Shocking news” Kiva retorted sarcastically to a null audience, taking another sip and calling up the shipping manifest.
“Hrm. That’s odd. Nothings gets by without my approval.” she muttered, staring at a single item on the list marked “Classified”.