Summoned:
Book 1 - An Accidental Adventure
Prologue i
Songs have often been sung of battles Great and Small. Of the Villains and Heroes. Those who won versus those who have lost. In many of these bardic tales a person can find almost any example of humanities challenges. There are very few battles through that can encompass every aspect of humanities challenges as one all inclusive tale. This was one such battle, one of the great spun tales to pass down through the ages. To be told verbally in writing or broadcast on one of the few Tri-D stations still recording on station would not do it the full justice that was required of such a story.
In this battle the Legendary Generals of Humanities last stand were gathered. They had finally baited one of the Scourges from beyond the Void that had wrecked devastation upon the civilizations of the planet known to the local inhabitants as Sandax. Which is also, loosely translated their term for earth or ground. Each of these scourges had claimed great swaths of land covering much of the main continent of Sandax. The Fell Beings they were fighting was an unholy melding of flesh and technology bred of chaotic energies found beyond the Void of Matter and Space. In their Stupidity this particular evolution of humanoids had discovered a way to look into the missing space of matter and energy. Into a place of the Void. Past the equivalency of the Holography of the Universe that they knew as material beings. In that place, the end of all and the Abyss of Time there Demons lay. Beings that had prior to this event had only leaked into the humanoids subconscious and the worst of their nightmares. This scouting had allowed the Demons to piggyback through the rift and to inhabit the flesh and neural matrix known as the physical body thus ejecting the prior inhabiting spiritual matrix.
The experiments of this began as a type of Anti-Matter research. Something to solve the energy crisis of the planet. The opponents, and truthfully many of the proponents, of this technology proclaimed that only annihilation would occur. For many of the survivors this would have been an infinitely more preferable outcome to what ended up actually happening. Which was Demonic Possession and a War so vast that it literally remade the surface of the planet they called home.
While all of this was going on the people found that Technology, and in some cases even physics were not functioning as they should. That the very constants that they had worked for ages to discover and understand had been stood up on its collective head. In some pockets of land electronics of any type would not function. Other locations it was chemical combustion. Some places photons lost their wave form and only maintained their particle nature. Regardless of which aspect it became difficult for any side to maintain not only a standing army but also the civilization necessary to support it. This gave an incredible advantage to the Demonic Forces initially. Until one of the disciples of the first Scientist to discover this altered dimensional activity learned to merge technologies and energies together to enhance a being. These first Technomancers as they came to be known became the populaces last hope as they would take Volunteers and give them powers or enhancements that would allow them to fight the Demons form the Void on their own terms. Even if it did have the result of making these people more or perhaps completely different than their base race.
In response to this rose the great Demon Lords. The Strongest of which could now pull new Demons from the void at their need or their want. That was when the forces of civilization knew they were well and truly ‘Screwed’. Luckily for them, through the ranks of the ‘Created’ and the ‘Enhance’ came a few score of the Great Generals after centuries of warfare. Individuals able to take on all but the Greatest of the Demon Lords. Out of these Great Generals came a dozen Legendary Champions. Strong enough to hold their own against the those most powerful of enemies. They were Strong, Fast, Capable, Forceful, Mighty, Powerful, Charismatic, and more. Everything that was needed to be a Paragon of those remaining peoples with the will to survive. They were here in what could be considered the Eleventh Hour of that Era’s need. Each had reached deep into the well of Energy they drew from going from a figurative beacon of light into a Literal Shining Start. Each of their lights corresponding to the aspect that they drew upon, be it love or anger, longing or grief, joy or excitement. The power of their primary emotions allowed the connection that even showed strong in the physical realm around these Champions leaving trails of power in their wake. As their Brilliance doing battle against the Darkness that was swallowing their planet.
That was happening today. In the streets and buildings of one of the great Megalopolis’s. A great city, now destroyed. A testament to the peoples of this planet. The Denizens and citizens of this city watched, or the smarter of them ran, as Godly beings did battle above and below. Seeking what shelter they could as the multiple forces of many armies took the field causing their own death and dismemberment. Even if it was just an echo of their leaders grand show.
On the field could be found every disciple of fighter. The soldiers, runners, pounders, engineers, slingers and slammers. The seers and the Summoners. Rangers and scouts running force recon and sniping. Every type of being imaginable had taken the to the field. Yet they still were an afterthought against the Demons that seemed to rule the land. Demons such as Braashend the Reshaper, a grotesque multi-limbed monstrosity that seemed to be an amalgam of far too many creatures. Or Crens the Temptress who was as beautiful as she was terrifying, and her champion of light who had fallen from grace Mule Enstrand the Turned. Who was once a great Champion himself but tempted to the Void and in his weakness had taken up her torch.
Things would have been bad enough with only these three Great Demon Lords. However the absolute worst of them had shown itself and tipped the balance towards destruction and corruption.
Xentul the Devourer had taken the field.
A creature that was not truly on any side but its own. More of a force of entropy than anything else. Its horde of biomechanical Ravagers followed. Each having a tendency to absorb the remains of the fallen to turn their cadavers or technology into yet more Ravagers. The Generals had timed this battle on the intelligence that Crens and Xentul were both on the other side of the continent. That they would only be going after Braashend. Yet somehow the others had shown up. Turning a potential conquest that was much needed into a route that the Legendary Generals had been giving their lives one after another to make sure that the greatest number of civilians had a chance to retreat.
The only enemy of humanity to not take the field seemed to be Alasan Soreno. The First Summoner. The originator of the Contract with the Void. The first individual who had discovered a pathway to the Energies Beyond the Heat Death of the Universe. The engage interaction with beings or alien sentience’s outside of what mortals could contemplate without going completely insane. No one had encountered the Infamous Summoner in over an age. There were rumors of course. Such as his finally crossing over into the Void himself or becoming a mindless Ravager in his attempts to blend Oblivion to his own will. Perhaps he had been lost during a titanic battle such as the current location had become on the other side of the continent just barely twenty cycles past. To the other Four Demon Lords this was no great matter that the Great Summoner was gone.
One of the several Legendary Champions of Humanity was already down. His energies sucked clean by the battle and his flesh sundered. Two other champions were attempting to hold of Braashend. While a third valiantly tried to save what she could of the downed Champion.
Below and beside all this was an old man. His robes and equipment marking him as some type of advanced technomancer or perhaps even a summoner. One of the rare individuals with training in affecting the quantum field and the Void energies from which the Demons gained their abilities. Utilizing patterns, forms, sounds, techniques, and gadgets they are able to do this. Their enhancements not only worn but also built into them with modified organs as well as technological mishmashes that conventional wisdom stated would not and could not work. Yet they did. Gears made of advanced clockworks, pressure vacuoles, digital touch screens, transister circuitry, DNA Computer control runs, molecular circuits, holo interface tech, and even analogue datastrip operations systems.
The forces around him seemed to ignore him as he wove through the chaos bred of the battle around. Whenever the forces of either side managed to get close he would wend his way around the debris or wander under a fallen pass or seemingly step into nothingness. His intense concentration on his task obvious on his grizzled old features. White, whispy, almost featherlike hair stood on end and moved in the breeze with his movements. He bore no facial hair, but it was more of a natural hairlessness rather than shaving if one was to look closely. Thin, almost non-existent eyebrows above slate gray deep set eyes completed his craggy face. He carried a wood and metal staff that was entwinned by various wires and a couple control interface panels near the main rubber handgrip. At the base of the staff was a brass bulb and opposite on the top was a jagged assembly of metal. The old man moved to kneel over a fallen form of an elfin looking man. The body was brutalized and torn in half. The poor mans expression a grotesque mask of fear and apprehension that was a testament to his final moments.
“Not the best material to work with here.” He said to no one in particular, his aged face wrinkled in disgust at the sight. “Not like there will be many good candidates left at this rate.” He chuckled quietly to himself at his own sardonic tone.
A sound made him look up from his inspection of the dead man. A clicking rock on metal clatter. The Old Man flicked his free hand in an odd manner that could not be performed by someone with all their knuckles in their normal socketed order. With a mutter his eyes glowed as if backlit by an electric diode. He then stepped up and backwards into a fold of nothingness leaving only the battle chattel on the ground.
Through the location where the old man had been standing a tall being moved. Flesh that may once have been handsome, now twisted into a grotesque horror of its own insatiable hunger. Sallow and pallid skin that could once have held a healthy tan now stretched and sagged. Here and there as the flesh had failed materials of all sorts had been used to repair the creature. Be it circuitry, hydraulics, servomotors, flesh of other creatures, or even gearworks. Whatever it could take it had in the living not-death that had to constantly feed or deteriorate even further. One eye had been replaced by an old styled camera lens with some extra electronics the other was a rheumy white within a decaying putrid yellow orb. The left hands flesh stretched taughtly over bones and metal struts that had been stuck inside haphazardly. A great rotting cloak of various patchwork skins covered much of the rest of its body and the creatures right arm. As it moved an observer would be able to make out bits and parts that fit together in no discernable fashion on its horrid body. A whirring and clicking of broken parts could be heard as it shambled along. Not like a well oiled machine but rather like some form of insectile automaton that was broken and still attempting to function even with its damaged parts.
The Old Man had known this creature.
Xentul the Devourer.
It stopped over the body and craned its head to one side. Not to different from a reptile or avian attempting to understand what it was looking at. Its artificial eye lens whirled around in its socket before popping open to allow an undamaged humanlike eye to extend on a servo arm and gaze closer at the deceased creature below it. As soon as it gained a proper vantage point Xentul stopped dead. All noise from it ceased, not a movement nor any sound for several heartbeats as The Devourer became as still as a statue. An instant later with an economy of motion that would have given a robotic servant a good run Xentul reached down and squeezed the right arm of the man off at the elbo with a sickening sound of crunching bones and squelching flesh. Once the partial limb was wretched free the being shrugged back its cloack some and moved its right arm into sight. The end of the arm looked like a hybrid prosthetic and flesh limb that had been run over by a boulder then left to rot in the sun. From the elbow joint down The Devourer allowed the material to slough off onto the ground next to the body. Then it took the dismembered arm and stuck the pulped joint onto the wreckage on the end of the part still attached. A grey sickly goop seeped out of its flesh and onto the fresh meat. This material joined the two dissimilar organisms enough to be connected. Even if only just so.
Xentul flexed its new hand clumsily a couple times. Apparently satisfied it gave what could only be interpreted as a contemptuous wave with its mangled left hand as it walked bast the battle offal. Once the Demon Lord disappeared out of view of the deceased and its own dropped body part the remaining gearworks in the limb began to sluggishly attempt to twitch and move to the body near it.
The Old Man stepped back into existence as if stepping in from another room. “Damn, I had hoped he was still engaged…” He said to himself absent mindedly as he looked down at the revolting limb piece, “Oh no you don’t!”
His staff began to buzz from within. A series of commands were tapped into the mechanical keypad on the staff. After which the chaotic design of prongs on the top of the staff began to flare with a red and purple fire. He pointed the projection at the arm fragment and torched it with the arcane looking flame thrower until it was nothing more than a slag of material melting into the earth below it.
“I am pretty sure that this fallen hero does not wish to walk once more as a Ravager.” He stated as he began to incinerate the body before he moved in a different direction than what Xentul had gone.
Once past the ashen remains of the fallen being the Old Summoners path more often than not brought him in contact with those already slaughtered or destroyed. Every now and then he was forced to fade into the InBetween like before to avoid detection as the battle or forces from either side came tromping through. It also was not only the Demonic forces from the Void and their legions that he was avoiding, but also the forces of the fallen civilizations that he wished to evade. He knew what would happen if those forces of humanities gone past would do if they discovered he was more than the simple Technomancer that he pretended to many to be. After all though it had been many years since Alansan Soreno had created the First Summoning Event the term was still forever tainted in the view of the various civilizations. Alienating all who had felt the inexplicable call of the path of the Summoner. As such he did his absolute best to avoid everyone and everything as he went about his tasks.
Eventually he came upon the fallen body of one of the Great Generals. As he moved slowly to her side he watched another champion nearby engage the still moving Xentul.
“Stupid… you should retreat.” He said towards the Champion under his breath even as he knew that the exemplary fighter could not hear him.
He kept part of his attention on the two embattled beings in case their battle came near. The Demon Lord had manifested a great fell sword made of a fearful melding of ruined metals and still living flesh. Its counterpart was matched by an extremely fit man with braided hair wielding a long sword made of light created seemingly in his own hands. The Old Man saw that the two of them appeared to be moving roughly away from him and as such he put his attention closer to the woman on the ground.
“There may yet be time.”
The tall fair skinned woman was not breathing. A grievous wound in her gut that opened her up from right hip all the way up through the left portion of her ribcage. Internal organs and bones on display to the exposed air around them. Her vibrant hair was plastered with blood and a stark contrast as her skin drained of color. He placed a circular device on her chest above the right breast. Its copper and iron works would seem to be strangely complementary to the Emerald metallic style markings on her body. Once in place the disc shot out four appendages at the compass points around its surface. They turned downward and sunk into the pliant flesh with very little blood flow from the puncture points. After he was satisfied with it the Old Man concentrated and his eyes began to glow as if backlit once again. The clockworks on the device started to spin up, their whirring intensified and lessened as if to the beat of a heart. With every cog styled heartbeat her body became more and more translucent until she faded entirely from view.
Once done the Old Man stood up and looked over at the battle which seemed to once more be drifting his way. “Damnation. I hope I can retrieve at least another few before they are too desecrated beyond recovery.”
With that said he once more stepped backwards into the InBetween. Once there the combatants rampaged through the space he had occupied never knowing that he had been there.
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End Prologue i
Post Note -
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Summoned:
Book 1 - An Accidental Adventure –
Prologue ii
Authors Notes -
Nope. This chapter doesn't take place in the gnarly realm with that Old Man. Here are some more character introductions.
I'm trying for a once a week chapter. Usually friday or saturday, but who knows what life brings. I've got this story pretty much finished and transcribing, but I'm not gonna post it all at once as it is still in very (very very) rough format. Gots lots of stuffs to do in it before I'm completely happy!
Don't forget to like the story and go to my patreon link at the end to get access to new chapters and also to exclusive artwork and previews before I post here and other places on the interwebs!
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“Hey Nick! What demented asinine brain jerky inspired dungeon crawl do you have planned for us this weekend?” Chris Hodges asked his gamer geek friend and sometimes co-worker Nicholas Anderson. Chris himself was a self styled average guy. Around six feet tall, around a hundred and eighty pounds. Average cut brown hair and average brown eyes that set in a reasonably average Caucasian frame. In fact Chris went to some lengths to stay that way. None of his friends, both geek and chic, understood why. Especially since his personality and presence made him stand out in almost every crowd. As well as his constantly being in the middle of most anything going on. Luckily for them he was also a very likable individual not to mention pretty handy in a crunch.
Currently he and his friend Nick worked at the local Best Buy consumer electronics store. Which was great for both of them as they were able to get first pick of great items that came through the damaged or clearance bins. After all, neither of them truly cared if an Xbox came back with a damaged disc reader. Both could repair simple electronics at need.
Nicholas was a bit shorter and definitely the more flamboyant of the pair. He was just as, if not more, energetic than Chris. Though where Chris enjoyed being in the center of any goings on, Nick was more of a prankster and joker than the more serious mind Chris.
“You have the manners of a baboon with a serious sinus infection.” Nick said with a pompous sniff. “Seriously, ‘assinine brain jerky?’ I will have you know that I am serving our dungeon from a nicely chilled platter of Posterially Challenged Salad. Fresh and Crispy with critters and a potential side of Obtuse Opossum for good measure.”
Chris pinched the brow of his nose as he groaned with his eyes screwed shut. “Oh good lord. Not the Morks again. Seriously who let you watch that Futurama movie?”
The shorter of the two responded with a chuckle as he shook his head. “No, not the Morks this time my good friend. But you gotta admit, they were funny.”
“No they weren’t Nick. They Just.. Would… Not… Shut…Up! If I hear one more MindyMindyMindyMindyMindy or Nanu Nanu it’ll be too soon.” He turned away from his friend to do some straitening on the shelves. “And did you honestly have to set up a Sound Board for that session? I mean… Really?”
Nicholas’s reaction was a silent and rather self gratified grin. Which only caused Chris to groan once again. The two of them had to cease their conversation then as a customer came within the range where they could not professionally ignore her. As Nick went off to great the woman Chris contemplated their friendship. No matter how much he and the others may bemoan some of the poor taste of Nicks jokes or puns they still did enjoy their gatherings and games.
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Across the town in one of the many grocery store chains another member of their small yet dedicated group was plying his way through the aisleways in search of various foodstuffs. Sometimes muttering to himself and at others actively seeming to be talking to himself. At least until an observer saw the tiny Bluetooth earbud in one ear.
“No. Yes, yes. They’re out right now. Got it. What? Of Course. No, I’ve got that too.” Was his portion of the conversation that was in response to a list of goods being inquired of. “Look Mom, I have the list you texted me. I can’t figure out what you want that’s not on the list nearly as easily on the phone. Why don’t you just text me an updated list?”
He stopped moving as he paused to listen to her. “Yes, I know you like to hear my voice and want to talk. But I need to keep to my schedule as well."
James Wethers was an orderly man. The grocery cart in front of him was a testament to this in the way every item was neatly arranged and set up. Heavy canned goods stacked on the bottom near the back of the cart, other higher weight items that had a resistance to crushing to the front. On top of those in the next layer was any boxed goods. Perishables above those and all of the frozen goods pulled together to maintain their temperature. The largest item was a heavy fifty pound bag of rice underneath the cart.
His appearance looked quite in line with the way he set his cart.
Tall and heavyset, more stocky than fat. Not too much muscle definition but moving with a sort of grace that only a landslide could show. Only the beginnings of a belly starting to show in his otherwise large frame. James did not quite yet have a second chin, but the makings for one could already be seen under his strong jawline. He was sharply dressed and very well groomed. Though he would never be considered a very good looking man, James felt it important to never be accused of being unkempt. At twenty two years old he had a lot of career options once he finished his college and vocational training in his home town of San Diego. This in conjunction with his constantly being at his mothers beck and call made for a bit of a dearth of dating material. The upside was in the savings tha the found and extra free time to pursue his schooling and hobbies.
Between the scholarships, grants, and college savings from his parents James did not to put out a dime for higher education. His entire course was set for a PhD in Space Robotics and Electronics specializing in automated control systems. One of the few conditions that assisted in this so has to help defray costs and gain more financial support was to live at home with his mother and share vehicles.
His father had been a ships design engineer for the US Navy before passing to cancer a few years ago. James felt the pull to follow in his fathers footsteps. Though it was to design for space rather than nautical designs. Everything he did reflected the very orderly house he was raised in. Where he had doubled down as the man of the house as his fathers health had faded rather than follow the more classic rebellion against their parents upbringing and wishes.
The one social weakness that James had in his own eyes was his inability to stop gaming with his childhood friend Nick. The two of them had been as unlikely a pair as any. Especially as Nick was spontaneous, disorganized, impertinent, and drifted life with nary a care to his own future. His spur of the moment methodology often caused distress to James’s comfortable routines. To make matters worse was that Nick seemed to have an intuitive ability to be where things would benefit him. Sort of a Homer Simpson grade of luck. Where James had needed to work hard in school to get a good test score Nick would game late the night before and show up exhausted to still ace the tests. James needed to share his ride with his mother, Nick on the other hand managed to sneak in and grab a decent car for next to nothing as it needed some simple electrical work done. They really were almost complete antithesis of each other. Yet even if they did often gripe and bicker like a pair of grumpy old men they were still great friends who managed to spend a lot of their free time together.
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In one of the many outdoor park style campus study areas at the San Diego State University sat a pair of smaller guys. In front of them on the park bench table was an eclectic selection of books stacked or placed rather haphazardly. The material varied from advanced chemistry to aerospace engineering principles to composite compression analysis and even a couple books on medieval weapons crafting. There was even a book on Bushido, the ancient ways of the Samurai from Japan.
“And I’m telling you Malachai, you CAN bring a sword to a gunfight and win. There are many plausible scenarios.” Felix stated with an air of both slight exasperation and overconfident braggery.
The young man was small and wiry. Possessing a compact frame that seemed to be bursting with energy. His darker olive skin spoke to his Mediterranean ancestry while his nearly black curly hair begged to be tasseled by any passerby or close friend. Internally he didn’t even mind that he was often mistaken for any of the eastern Mediterranean countries or even those of full Middle East heritage. The reality for him was that Felix was a Euro-mutt with no way to know the full set at all. Instead what he cared about was having his facts straight and winning confrontations in the most unconventional or bizarre ways possible. As such he frequently studied just about every conventional or standard way to tackle challenges. Be they in real life or in some made up fantasy realm. In that way the little gamer munchkin found ways to frustrate whatever simple minded plebian who had been unfortunate enough to challenge his intellect.
What else could anyone expect from a youth by the name of Felix Tuttle after all? Which was also part of the whole classic geek slash nerd discussion of the Sword in a Gunfight Scenario that he currently found himself engrossed in.
Opposite of the intrepid gamer nerd sat a rather contrasting individual. Where Felix was energetically leaned forward and used his hands very emphatically to emphasize each and every point his friend Malachai sat nearly ramrod straight showing a complete physical reserve. From looks, attitude, and even accent one could mistake the two as having absolutely no common ground. Yet that was not accurate in the slightest. Malachai was a foreign exchange student from Romania to the East of Hungary and south of Ukraine. Pale olive tinged skin with light brown hair and sky blue eyes, he was also very fit. Athletic build of a runner or track star and looked equally as academically inclined. He was already far ahead of his current course curriculum. Normally full time college students only took four, maybe five courses at a time. Malachai was currently holding his own at eight courses. Even with that huge burden on his life he still found enough time to spend on interesting side projects like Felix’s current conundrum of the real life potentials of bladed weapons versus projectiles.
The reason that this odd companionships with one of the Campus’s poster boys of darkness instead of hanging around with any of the ‘In Crowd’ was because the youth had finally found proper mental stimulation there. He still maintained his physical fitness regimes that his parents had drilled into him many years ago which had centered on Gymnastics geared towards the Olympian standards. In fact it was that very sports program which allowed him his current schooling and life at the College. His specialty was the parallel bars, and though Malachai was very good he felt that he was only at state and national levels rather than the Olympic level his Ma and Pa had wished him to attain. That was only a matter of time according to his trainer however. Besides for Malachai at least he felt that the majority of the Olympian spotlight was currently on barely pubescent girls. A specific item that he thought was ridiculous as Gymnastics was not nearly much of a challenge for a person at that level of physical development and thus not a true competition. Sort of like a boxer fighting opponents under his weight class.
With that last thought in mind young Malachai often spent his free time in cerebral and often pointless debates with Felix rather than focusing on obtaining full Olympian status. Their usual discussions around the most recent Hollywood bullshit special effects fight that was pedaled to the general populous. So like some of their favorite shows like Mythbusters they would figure out realistic scenarios and equipment to se if there was an actual chance of victory. Such as archaic weapons versus modern firearms.
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“Yes sir, I understand.” Nick stated in a respectful tone.
“Make sure that you do Mr Anderson.” His manager responded in a rather authoritarian tone. One that always caused Nick to have to hide a laugh given his love of classic science fiction characters. “We here at Best Buy are dedicated to our customers satisfaction.”
Given that the perfunctory voice, rote answer, and standardized responses were a given for almost all employee problems Nicholas understood quite well. It was a classic case of Tow the Line or get out that all retail establishments used now a days.
“Yes, I will do my best to be more dedicated to our customers needs in the future.” He said to his manager not quite looking at the older man, making sure that he was using the correct pitch of apologetic and earnest that was required.
The other man quirked an eyebrow in a very space elf sort of way. “Even when you are ignoring one customer for another?”
That particular comment caused Nick to flinch just a little. “You saw that?” He blurted out before thinking. Just as quickly he realized what he had said just barely suppressed saying a classic ‘Doh!’
“Yes.” The one-word answer from his boss was a bit less by rote and much darker in tone. “Mr. Anderson… Nick. I’m going to be honest. If you weren’t so good at the upsell I would have let you go your first week. I don’t like your attitude, and you spend far too much time talking non work-related topics. With both your customers and your co-workers. How you manage to upsell most customers you help is beyond me, but if you continue to go against my policies then I don’t care if you sell good. I will let you go.”
His boss, Dave Russel, was a classic case of career retail manager. He ate, breathed, and slept for big corporate retail climbing. To the point that the man was huge on policy and procedure and much less on moral and well being. Nick felt that Dave was so disconnected from the real customer needs of retail reality that the man truly did not understand that it was exactly that extra time that was spent socializing that earned the sale. If the customer felt that they were being dealt with by a drone then they would just grab their item and go. By chatting with them about their jobs and entertainments Nick was able to steer the customers to other wants and needs they didn’t know they had. So what if it took ten to fifteen more minutes per sale. He needed several thousand in sales under his belt a week above the next best floor sales person. Which not incidentally was Chris who Nick often handed customers off to after he reached the weeks quotas.
“Is there anything else sir?” He asked. He really just wanted to get out from under the man’s disapproving gaze as fast as possible.
“Not at this moment.” Dave gave him a dismissive wave.
Grateful for finally being given permission to leave Nick hightailed it out of the office being careful not to slam the door. After all it wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant if he was called back in immediately.
In the back stock room outside of the Managers office one of Nick’s co-workers, Janelle, was leaning against the wall. The rather rat faced woman was posed in what Nick was sure that she believed would be considered casual. Of course he recognized it for what it really was.
Gloating.
“So, gotta turn your blue in finally?” She asked in her nasally and, at least to Nicks ears, whiny tone.
He took great pleasure in his response. “Nope! In fact Dave admitted I was the best salesman on the floor.”
“Person.” She corrected as she pushed off the wall to follow him into the breakroom where he was heading.
“What?”
“Salesperson.” Her voice was, as always, grating on Nicks nerves. “Salesman denotes that Women can not be in Sales.”
The old line she was spouting off was another thing that bugged Nick. He didn’t like gendertyping people either, but a slip of the tongue was just that. Besides he hated the way she used her politically correct agenda against every man that she could.
“Not this again Janelle.”
“It is attitudes like that that cause women to make less money an hour than you over privileged Men.” She almost bit out at him.
To say she was something of a feminist was similar to saying the sky was a little blue or the ocean was a little wet.
Nicholas resisted the urge to pinch the brow of his nose as he felt a familiar headache coming on. “You make more an hour than I do Janelle. And you haven’t worked here as long.”
“That’s because I had to work so hard at it! Because as a woman I have to work more than twice as hard as you do for the same benefits!”
Another thing that Nick and most everyone he knew could say about Janelle’s vitriolic rhetoric was that she was a bit brain washed by the party line.
Finally Nick had enough and turned to her just as he entered the break area. “If you worked half as hard on customer service as you do on reminding us how hard you have to work compared to a man then you’d probably give me some actual competition as best seller.” He baited her with the statement.
Normally he didn’t like to deal with this type of unfounded and regurgitated bigotry. Especially as her opinion was firmly fixed in her mind. She also happened to be one of those pleasant people that mistook her opinions for facts.
Janelle spluttered a little as her brain attempted to formulate a comeback that fit within her personal worldview. While she made a good impression of a fish out of water Nick made his way over to his lunch that had been left untended when it was interrupted by the dressing down he had received. Much to his dismay as he sat down he saw Janelle had followed him in. Technically she wasn’t even supposed to be in there as it wasn’t her scheduled break and she was on the clock. Yet she was also Dave’s favorite. Probably in large part because she was a good little bureaucratic kiss ass. So she was able to get away with things that would get Nick and most other employees a write up or even fired. As he didn’t have another job lined up yet and rent was always coming around the corner he couldn’t afford another bad note on his file.
“Janelle. As much as I would love to play point and counterpoint with you I really should clock back in and hit the sales floor.”
She turned with a huff and stalked out of the room.
“Great… I’m sure that’s gonna come back and bite me in the ass!” Nick quietly exclaimed to himself as he looked down to his half eaten
burger realizing he had lost his appetite.
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End Prologue ii
Post Notes -
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Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Prologue iii
Back in that other realm the Old Man worked in a room just as eclectic in form as he was. Due to the vagaries of the Quantum Event that had occurred on this planet it could be separated in Time, Space, or Both from the Universe in which it all started. It could also be neither, and it is just somewhere… Else. The dark location and the Old Man bustled with a strange otherworldy energy. It could be considered a bit of an odd description. Bustling in regards to the pulsating energy located within. Yet it was the most apt description at present.
The room was an Elipse in shape, filled with many machines and technologies from just as many era’s of their history. All of the equipment was connected together in one way or another by wires, tubes, fiber optics, directed energy relays, and even some DNA data transfer paths. The mish mash of gears alongside was even more diverse than the items connecting them. From analogue calculating machines and touch screen computers to cathode ray tube displays and even full holographic interface projections. On one counter against a wall there was even a living half of a bovine like head with several sets of wires and tubes protruding from the brain in its skull. The energized feeling in the room pulsed once, similar to the feel of a heartbeat waking up from a long rest. As if this all was a living construct standing up to meet the demands of the Old Man who was puttering around setting everything up.
Along the rooms center axis were seven beds. Made of similar to the other parts in the room. Their only similarity to each other was in that they all had flat tops perfectly arranged for holding a humanoid body.
Only two of the beds were occupied currently. The first was that of a red haired woman that had been recovered earlier that day from one of the battle fields that the Old Man had been scavenging through. She was stripped of any clothing or gear that may have had on in the field. Just her bare body and many cables and tubes running into various wounds covering her flesh. Apparatus hung from the ceiling where most of the equipment was connected to her. She was tall, easily a head and a half taller than the Old Summoner. Well formed muscle tone contrasting with a very obviously female frame. The deep strawberry red locks had been cleaned somewhat of blood and debris from the field, yet some of it still remained. It had recently been hacked to shoulder length from the uneven yet sharp hair ends. Pale fair skin currently ashen like that of a corpse. A smattering of freckles on her face shoulders and upturned breasts. There was a small privacy towel over her waist with a thicker pair of cables leading out from under it. Over her body could be easily discerned dark green metallic marks or perhaps solid tattoos. A pair of sharp and slim angular lines accentuating her jawline. Three slicker slashes of the marks under her breasts on each side of her chest each over one of her ribs. Two carefully etched geometric rings were on each upper arm. Her forearms sported a strange open centered oval and two trapezoid shapes on the back of each hand. Visible on her thighs were thick elongated triangles, two per thigh each sharp end pointing towards her kneecaps. A set of lines reminiscent of the slashes on her ribcage were crafted into her flesh around each calf. There were others most likely but they were not presently visible on her form.
A few tables down from her lay another body. Just as denuded of clothes as the first with the same privacy towel an array of miscellanea just as confusing as the other beings entered the more masculine body. He was shortish compared to the Old Man and with a torso too. His skin was a pinkish dusky rose tan crisscrossed with old and faded scars. He had a broad islander style of face, wide cheekbones and flattened nose. The sides of his skull were shaved or perhaps hairless, though he grew a near mane of very full hair starting high on the forehead all the way down to the nape of his neck. Shiny and raven black, it was in a long thick braid that would reach his well-defined calves if he was standing up. Two other main points of interest about him was a sort of cybernetic interface with ports built into his right pectoral muscle with several lights glowing dimly in it and one very thick cable from the array above plugged into it. Another item of note was the three metallic silver parallel stripes on each forearm about a fingers width wide starting on the outside of the arm to sweep across and down diagonally to end just before the wrist on the inside of the forearm.
Beyond those and the Old Man there was nothing otherwise in the room. Which included any possible door or even air recirculation systems. Not anything that could be used to enter or exit the room in any way.
The Old Man muttered something rather inaudible and began to fade much the way that he had gathered the womans body in the field earlier. With each heartbeatlike pulse of energies he faded further and further from view until he was gone. The pulsing energy of the room died down to only a slow trickle of motion once the room was vacated by anything moving. Some unknown time later the pulse livened again. A crackle from one of the devices sparked energetically and a sonic vibration pulsed along one of the tables. A thumping rhythm began with a gyrating whooshing like sound as a body of a large hulk of a person with granite like skin began to gain substance from the nothingness. Almost as wide as he was tall, the body was wrent and torn. One arm almost completely sundered from his form, inside clockworks, pistons, and brass works seemed to make up the interior skeletal structure. A gray powder seeped and seemed to ooze from the wounds in the skin. Nothing much remained of his clothing but it must have been from some type of military uniform. On his chest was a disk much the same that the Old Man had used prior.
Not long after the hulk finished materializing the Old Summoner began to fade into view.
“Wilheim, you fool. You knew better to take on Braashend.” He said sorrowfully to the prone body. He began muttering in an odd arcane language. The dirt and grime on the body began to absorb as an apparatus lowered from the ceiling like some deep sea horror part cetacean part insect that was readying itself to eat. It unlimbered some mechanical arms that began to repack the broken bodu back into a more correct form. Under the ministrations of this unit and the Old Man the body was unclothed and repairs begun.
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~ Nick and Felix ~
Away from the Old Man and his strange technological amalgams and back in the San Diego State University campus Felix and his friend Nick were walking along. The two of them were discussing, well more of arguing, various points. Sort of a rambling argument that went from topic to topic. With its cadence as well as a lack of any actual aggression, it was clear to any outside observer that the two did this on quite a regular basis.
That is, until a bevy of the finer half of humanity walked out in front of them. As Felix maintained the conversation in full, Nick’s eyes enjoyed the sight of derriere on display in skinny jeans, yoga pants, and shorts. It took a few dozen paces until the shorter of the two even noticed the lack of conversational reply from his taller companion.
“Yo Nick.” Said with some irritation. “Earth to Nick. Hey Nicholas.” Felix kept up as he snapped his fingers loudly in front of his friend. “You know they wouldn’t give you the time of day so stop oogling."
The snapping did the trick with his friend and brought Nick out of his visually induced torpor. “Yeah, I know. But eye candy is still eye candy.” He patted Felix patronizingly on the shoulder as he continued, “I’ll explain it some day when you get fuzz on your chin.”
Felix had a rather scoffing tone to his reply. “Whatever man. I’m the one who’s dating a Cheerleader, remember?”
“Dude, she’s in high school. Doesn’t count.”
“She’s eighteen. Does count.”
Nick shook his head at his friend. “You know that as soon as she gets into colleges he’s gonna dump you, right?”
With a sigh, “Yeah, you right.” Then the smaller man perked up noticeably. “But until then, I’m the one dating a cheerlearder. Don’t you forget it.” By the end of his statement Felix was grinning like a fiend.
As Nick was about to reply with what he felt was a witty rejoinder his cell phone start to ring out the tune to ‘In the Navy’ by the Village People. He didn’t let it get too far into the chorus line before answering . “Yo, Nick speaking, the answer is 42.”
On the other end of the line Nick could hear his friend Chris laugh before he responded. “So long and thanks for all the Fish.”
It was an old joke between the two of them. Luckily it was also popular enough in their life rather than just obscure nerd trivia like in their parents generation.
“So, get your butt over here. We can game as soon as you and Short Stack arrive.” Chris said to him.
Felix bristled as soon as he saw Nick attempting to smother a laugh at Chris’s description of him. “Tell him to Shove Off Nick!”
At that Nick could no longer smother his laugh as the very persnickety Felix had known exactly what type of comment had been made. The small man knew exactly who Nick was talking too as that ring tone was assigned to only one contact in his phone. It was Nick’s way of poking fun at Chris as the other man had done a short stint in the Coast Guard. Which of course, given Nick’s sense of humor ended up being a double joke on the guy.
“I see that got the appropriate reaction,” Stated the prior puddle hopping not quite swabbie. “Anyway, the other guys have already showed up. We’re killing some time on Mario Kart but anxiously waiting to see what breed of demented ass weasels you are going to throw at us tonight.”
Nick finally calmed down a little from snickering at Felix’s vertical challenged issues. “I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of Ass Weasels in tonight. Neither can I speak to their mental stability.” As he talked about said tubular mammals Felix made the universal gesture of TMI to him. “Also, I’ll drag our pleasant little murder munchkin along. We’re on our way.”
Chris laughed at that. “That’s an insult to murderers you know.”
Felix and Nick were pacing along towards the parking lot as they made a beeline to Nicks car. Felix had his hands in his pockets and a slightly downtrodden expression on his face. “you don’t have to encourage him you know.”
“Oh come on Felix. You know Murder Munchkins would be pretty sick.”
The shorter man continued to sulk for a few more steps before his expression shifted and he finally laughed. “Only if the Lollipop guild’s Lolli’s were shaped like Battle Axe’s.”
On the phone Chris’s excellent hearing managed to pick up a touch of Felix’s comment. “Wait, I call Veto on Lollipop Battleaxe’s!”
Nick got another chuckle at that and responded, “Mayhap it will be Lollipop Battleaxe wielding Murder Munchkins with Demented Ass Weasel Familiars tonight.”
Chris growled out a good bye before keying off his side of the conversation.
Meanwhile the two reached the correct area of the parking lot and Nick pulled out his key fob to remote deactivate his car alarm. A quick bleep bleep later and the two of them were getting into a rather beat up tan Ford Escort that had seen better days. The inside matched the outside in appearance but that was a matter of choice for the owner. Since Nick enjoyed the obtuse, bizarre, and the downright strange he had invested funds into the drive train and performance instead of the exterior and looks. Since that specific year of Ford Escort was built on the same frame as the Mustang he had seen no reason why he couldn’t take out the old four banger and replace it with a more modern performance aluminum block v-6 engine with turbos. The result was something that looked like a run of the mill beater car but drove like a bat outta hell.
They crossed the town in the early afternoon traffic in Oceanside just north of San Diego. Luckily the roads were relatively clear before three or four pm. Relative for Southern California that is. Just a fine easy pace while they continue to chatter away until they pulled up. Outside of the old condo style apartment Chris rented was parked a mid eighties Honda Valkyrie motorcycle and a mid two thousands Chrysler Sebring. The condo itself had nice landscaping and a red front door deep set in a cream colored exterior. The paint was starting to peal… again. After a quick parking job one house over Nick and Felix walked to the front door and noted Malachai’s newer reliable mountain bike leaned up against the wall.
James opened the door and loomed over the two of them with his arms folded and a cross express expression on his face.
“Call the Brute Squad!” Nick hollered past the larger man into the house.
To which James answered “I’m on the Brute Squad.” Complete with grin and bad accent.
In almost as bad an accent Nick continued the almost ritualized commentary “You Are the Brute Squad?”
“I swear you two..” Felix stated more than a little annoyed as he pushed inside past and slightly underneath the two larger guys.
“Hey! There is Adorable Murder Munchkins!” Malachai said from the couch as he steered his kart on the video game he still happened to be playing. His Slavic accent understandable even if he still often talked in a sort of pidgin vocabulary at times.
Felix shot him a glance cross wise as if to say ‘Et Tu Malachai? Et Tu?’ as he walked into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.
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End Prologue iii
Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Prologue iv
Authors Note: SOoooooooo.... Embarrassed me.... I pulled a stupid. I thought I had pressed submit but I had only pressed preview when trying to post this chapter. Then a bunch of life happened Stupid Lifes always gettings in the way... hissssssssss Yeah, so, that happened. But I'm Alive! I'm still here and writing!!! I've gotten some great messages but I'd love comments just as much. I hope everyone's been enjoying it so far. This prologue chapter gets the story closer to the actual scenes that make it TG and why the story is here. However, I felt that it was important overall to set some of the tone. Especially with the Old Man and what he is and isn't. Also... Kind of got stuck binge watching She Ra on Netflix... again... my bad...
The Old Man was once more on the field of carnage. He was manty times more disheveled and worn than before. Favoring his right side where his robes were torn and a dark red brown fluid oozed from under them. Even with the injury and pain he was still spry enough to clamber around after any other bodies or at least parts of bodies that he may be able to save.
“Shouldna helped them.” He said quietly to himself as he bent down to inspect some battle spore on the ground. “Ungrateful warriors ready to believe the worst.”
He allowed himself a dark chuckle. “As if my kind has earned trust on first sight.”
The debris he was looking at seemed like a bit of meat and cloth that had been sheared off by a sharp blade. The flesh was green muscle tissue with sharp black metallic bone fragments within. The cloth was most likely either an underarmor jerkin or a soldiers uniform. Due to the color of the flesh the Old Man was most likely looking at an Enhanced, and hopefully one of the fallen Great Ones as it was still fresh. He chanted in his arcane language and waived his left hand over it. The back of his hand had a clear quartz panel built into it with some form of digital display fussily lit from within. With his palm placed over the fleshy bits a humanoid shape took form within the depths of the screen.
“Yes good…” He said in confirmation of what he was seeing.
The Old Man turned to his left and continued to chant quietly under his breath he moved forward. The hand held out in front of him, his palm outwards not unlike a blind person questing for a wall. In this case though whenever his palm passed near a bit of blood or remnant of the same being it flashed an image of the man. Using this method it did not take too terribly long to find the individual. He lay gasping for breath. Holding in his guts by one arm while fending off a human form Ravager with a bent piece of pipe. The light in the mans eyes was fading along with his strength. The blue colored skin of his right side was flayed open, torn free likely by some type of jagged claws. Similar likely to the Ravager in front of him which dripped ichor and green fibrous muscle tissue of its intended victim.
Coming to the rescue was never in question for the Old Man. He jumped immediately onto the attack. His worn and tattered robes flapped as he ran forward. A flame on the tip of his staff triggered by a couple switches on the haft. Once in range he aimed the fire burst flare at the creature. He followed the short plume in to impact with a resounding almost cymbal sound of metal on metal. The forelimb of the dead creature fell at the feet of the wounded man as the Ravager let out a strange sound, much like a electric buzz coupled with a hissing of a broken steam boiler. It moved into the Old Man oblivious to the wound he had just inflicted into the creature. Its hybrid flesh a patchwork of many pieces of fallen foes or battlefield carrion. The inner workings of the Ravager collected in much the same way.
Including a chemical propellant firearm that seemed to be part of its stomach area.
When the small bore cannon fired the Old Man narrowly maneuvered any of his vital parts out of the way. However it did not miss him entirely. Now a matching wound in his left side began to bleed out similar in size and location from its opposite just under his ribcage on his right side.
“Void and Damnation!” He yelled as he shifted his stance incase there was another round that the creature could fire at him. He stepped back, careful not to slip on the destroyed landscape beneath his feet. Precious time taken fighting this fiend instead of on the rescue frustrated him to no end. “End damn you creature, END!”
The Ravager ignored the Summoners calls. Instead it swiped its deformed remaining appendage at him. He barely managed to get his staff into a blocking position before receiving another wound. Behind and below him the wounded man began to emit a death rattle from his damaged throat. With very little remaining on the mans life the Old Man took what action he could as he planted his staff end on the ground as a pivot point for the flare on the other end. With timing gained from many years of experience he brought the incinerating flare down into the torso of the enemy as it attempted to bull him over. Much the same way as a man would set a spear into the ground to let a beast impale itself upon it while on the hunt.
Unlike a spear though, the Technomancers Staff he utilized accessed energies a plain metal tip could never hope to. With these energies in play the Summoner triggered an explosive cascade as soon as the tip entered the major area of the Ravagers chest cavity. He utilized the remaining stored energy reserves in his chem cells and the creature exploded apart as if it had been a grotesque confetti bomb made of decaying body parts and miscellanea of tech.
Now dripping with the remnants of Ravager the Old Man had the time to attempt his mission of mercy. He turned to look down at the man and clicked his tongue in sorrow. He placed another transportation disc on a relatively undamaged portion of the mans chest.
“You may be the last one I am able to rescue…” He said to the being as the corpse vanished. “I only hope that I am not too late.”
Once the man was completely gone the Summoner bent over in a coughing fit that he covered with a hand. He pulled it back and saw some black blood spackled over his palm. “Need to get that fixed…”
He began to fade once more to the heartbeat of his techno sanctuary.
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“Chips.”
“Check.”
“Beer.”
“Check.”
Nicholas’s gaming group continued their pre game munchie check off list. For the most part everything was accounted for. Even though everyone had called a total Veto on Felix’s Sardine Bean dip. Especially as since the last time that Felix had made it the gaming area stank of the salty fish for the entire gaming session and several days afterwards.
The Salty Fish Veto had ended up in another Veto of course. This time was on James’s wish of Cornnuts. Chris was not a fan and it was his apartment after all.
“So Felix, you know you have to choose tonight.” Chris state as they continued to check down the items they had for their game.
“Yeah Felix, choose path.” Malachai added.
The munchkin in question paused a moment in contemplation and when Chris opened his mouth to continue the commentary he raised his hand in a ‘Wait a Moment’ gesture. He used the brief respite to shuffle some sheets around the gaming table in front of him.
As he did so Nick came in from the kitchen sipping on an energy drink to look over the smaller mans shoulder. James had sat down as well to go over his papers and looked up at their game master. “Oh no Nick. No Energy Drinks this early!”
“What!” Malachai exclaimed whipping around to look at the brunette in question. “No good, no good! You put down now Nick!”
“What?” Nick held up his arms innocently with his best ‘pure as the driven snow’ expression.
Chris tossed Nicholas a bag of pretzels and waited to see the results. His target was adpt enough to catch it without spilling the already opened bag. Nick meanwhile was able to resist the urge to throw it back, instead choosing to respond verbally.
“Oh, what’s wrong with an energy drink or three?”
“Two words Nick.” Chris held up his index and middle finger to emphasis his point. “Abyssal Herpes.”
“Nick never allow watch Knights Badassdom again.” Malachai murmured gruffly. The others nodded sagely to the statement.
Their game master put the drink down next to Felix’s stack of characters and information so he could have his hands free begin going through the sheets. Felix made a grabbing motion just a little to late to prevent his friend from getting the topmost piece of paper.
“No, we talked about this Felix. Wrong Genre. I don’t care that it can ‘Technically’ be made.”
Chris made a ‘gimme’ motion with his hand reaching out, though Felix was able to intercept the sheet first.
“Well, I was thinking that my charact4er would have a parent who kept a dream journal with it in from another reality that was seeping into hi—” Felix’s long winded explanation and rule twisting justifications was interrupted by Nick.
“No Sonic Screwdriver. You can pick something from the books for your characters one year downtime, or you can have him only take a vacation. Books Felix, please keep it to the Books.” He attempted not to sound lecturing or patronizing, but sometimes it was just a little bit more difficult than at others.
“Fine.” The Munchkin of the group didn’t even attempt to keep the petulance out of his voice as he reached for a stack of the hardbound rules and games books.
Malachai picked up a pretzel piece to waive it as Felix. “I back take. Is Felix no watch shows.”
“Dude, you seriously need to work on your English.” Chris stated while pinching the brow of his nose. “Pidgin only works in TV Shows with a laugh track.”
James chuckled from down the table. “You do know he purposefully does that, right?”
The object of Chris’s oncoming headache grinned, sort of an impish mischief alight in his eyes. “Your shows here have great examples of foreigners who never learn English.” His Romanian accent was still present though his words and inflections sounded near perfect. He then looked at James while Felix, Chris, and Nick all had an open mouthed shocked expression. “How figure out? I good pidgin, work hard at no speak good English."
“Just because I am slower to state an answer does not mean I’m not observant.” James said with a slow shake of his head. He paused for dramatic effect as the others took in his words. “You ordered the pizza last week remember? I overheard you placing the order.”
Malachai paused and thought back. “Damn. Stupid Hut of Pizza’s phone peoples no understanding. They gave me out….”
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Seven bodies now lay on seven hybrid technological slabs. Making the location look even more like a combination morgue slash life support slash robotic repair location. All of the bodies were as still as death yet they pulsed with the same energetic heart beat like rhythm that the equipment in the room was generating.
The first of the rooms occupants looked the most lifelike at this point. Her body no longer ashen, now more flushed. Lips red once more and skin though pale was no longer contained the pallor of death. If not for the fact that she was not breathing she could easily be mistaken for being asleep. A few beds down the granite slab of a man looked to be nearly complete once more. His hard smooth rocklike skin had the impression of both a well crafted statue as well as that of a living person. With the whorls and sparkles of a figure that had been carved from a single slab of stone free of all imperfections. No longer a broken automaton. The insectile hybrid robotic arms that had been repairing his broken form rising once more into the ceiling now that their job is done.
Next to that was the dusky rose skinned man with the long braid. His repairs long since finished, now looked to finally be at peace with the world around. His youthful though weathered face calm and serene as if within blissful dreams of better times.
Further down the line the repair servitors from above were continuing their work. Sealing a leg closed on the person using a sealant foam that would then be absorbed becoming the same as the strange skin upon the form. Flesh as dark as the mid of night, when an observer looked upon the man it was as if looking through a window into a star filled sky. The shortish hair on his head was a stark and pure white as were his eyebrows and lashes. Otherwise his body was clear of any blemish or hair that could obscure the view of a galactic core strung out along one edge of his chest.
Beyond the starry man was the smallest one of the seven. Her skin was a type of perfection with an opalescent sheen to it that made her look as fragile as delicate ceramics. A slight build with small pert breasts and slim hips. She had a type of almond shaped eyes set above high cheekbones and small lips completing the doll like appearance. Her hair was cut high in the back sweeping towards her jawline in a sharp edged line so as to perfectly frame her face. Several tubes connected into her arms and into the side of her neck. The efficient and industrious nature of the repair apertures having already seen to her form.
The most normal of them was at the opposite end of the room from the red headed woman of Amazonian stature. The woman would be considered pretty in a girl down the street way. Of an athletic trim with modest proportions, the only variance from normal would be the luxurious mane of silver hair that would flow down to her feet when she stood upright.
Of highest importance to the rooms ability to repair the damaged forms was a blue skinned man most recently rescued with the horrible gut wound. Broad fighters shoulders with almost over defined musculature. Raven black shorter hair still covered in the muck of battle. He would be considered striking though not very handsome. Nose a bit large even on the very masculine face, eyes large but perhaps a bit too deep set under a brow that was thick with bone and muscle. Jawline almost comically square in its chiseled form.
The Old Summoner was directing the repair apparatus himself on the nearly completely dismembered form. Using the probes covered in either various metals or chitinous materials to maneuver the exposed digestive tract back into order. Finding some way to put the various parts back together or to remove foreign debris from the wound.
“Finally….” He stated in a tired voice.
One of the steamwork robotic arms pulled out a nasty looking shard of what likely was the tip of a Ravagers claw from deeply lodged within the mans backbone. A little glob of grey goop was at the broken end of the thing and mad the fragment appear to be attempting to wriggle around.
“Nasty piece of work you created Xentul.”
He dropped the claw piece to the floor and pulled a different arm from the ceiling servitor. This one had a small opening in the tip with a single metal situated just in front of it. As the claw tip attempted to move towards one of the bodies the Summoner activated the armature which caused a bright white blue flame to erupt forth in an almost liquid flow to encapsulate and incinerate the infectious entity.
“I wish I could have been sooner.” He told the comatose bodies with some sadness in his voice. “Yet I dared not tip my hand.”
“Normally in a battle like this you would have had a whole contingent of Summoners to retrieve you before your wounds were past the point of fatality.” He tutted at the broken form as he allowed the servitor to get back to work repairing the bodies. “However I guess that is after all our own faults. It was a Summoner who began all of this, yet you Enhanced and Created Generals seem to have forgotten that many of us ‘Contaminated Creatures that Worship the Void’ are attempting to atone for Soreno’s mistake.”
A sigh in sorrow escaped after his last statement. He continued his path around the room. Inspecting some of the gauges and readouts. The route around the ellipse shape was always clockwise. He never went in the opposite direction, even if only a step was required. After a few laps his footsteps began to move with the energy of the room. The thump thump thoom of the heartbeat becoming tangible as each circle was completed.
“Let us just hope this works. I have never attempted to retrieve the Spirit Matrix of ones so powerful as you." He paused to check himself at that last statement, as if remembering or looking back on a memory long past. “Well, as a group that is.”
Another loop was completed. He paused briefly in front of the living bovine head that was connected to an archaic calculation machine made of gearworks to make sure that the creatures eyes were tracking his movements. He continued past that in his near dance to a tall grey equipment cabinet with three tall panels set into its front. He pulled out the middle one, the top half was filled with a web of optical crystals though the lower half with old and corroded circuit boards that snapped and crackled with electricity. He swapped out a few of the boards, their small size making it relatively easy.
“Come on you Bastards! Come Back!” He said through gritted teeth after one particularly strong mote of energy zapped his shoulder.
Down the line a bit he got to a large brass wheel which he attempted to turn. It resisted all movement, the more muscle he put in the harder put it stayed. Sparkling motes began to appear around the room and disappear with a popping burst. He strained against his aging body and reopened a wound in his side. The dark blood dripped down onto the floor only to evaporate as if water under a high desert sun. With a final grunt the wheel began to move, eventually it gained a momentum of its own, the gears it connected to began to spin a more modern capacitance flywheel generator. As the flywheel spun purple hued streamers of energy began to flow free around the room in the same clockwise motion the Old Man was pursuing. A hybrid of lightning and flowing flame.
He continued his spiral through the room. The heartbeat growing more powerful with each pass. Its cadence thrumming into the very molecules of space and time. “I built you in the most powerful Matrices of Techno-Lines you thrice dammed Room. You better not Fail me now!”
The dancelike steps became more pronounced. A foot in between the electric currents and arm weaving to touch a control screen. Duck and weave so as not to interfere with the various sparks, motes, lines, cables, wires, and more. Perhaps not a refined dance, yet a dance it seemed to be. The energetic pulse no longer something felt subliminally. Now fully audible and rising in intensity with each beat. Like a marathon runner on the home stretch. The Old Summoner made several more passes in this nature. The sparks and energies growing in size and now trailing behind him whenever he passed. Every step, every motion. A push of a button or a pull of a lever brought the spell like energy further towards completion.
By the fiftieth revolution of the chamber the Old Man had grabbed his staff to gather the energy motes on its end as he continued on. Whenever he had gathered a largish amount he would fling it at one of the bodies where the pulse would be absorbed. Sometimes the person would twitch as if regaining a semblance of life, sometimes it would not. Still he continued to work on the equipment, fine tuning it with minute or even major adjustments to the control panels holographic interfaces bio-organics and more.
“Come on…”
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End Prologue IV
Post Story Notes –
Again... Sorry for the delay everyone. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can. I think that'll be the last one of the prologue but I may be wrong. I try to get around 3k words per chapter. Just my goal.
As the wise Tigger once said.
- TTFN means Ta Ta For Now!
Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Prologue v
Chris looked down at the terrain they had set up on the gaming table. It was a detailed forest simulacra with representative building walls, carts, beasts of burden, town folk, guards, and of course unique little figurines representing the various players characters.
“Hmmmmm…..” his gaze was focused downward. Intense as he continued to contemplate the many and varied choices that may or may not actually be available to him in the contextual form of a pen and paper fantasy game. As always, playing with visual representations instead of just words made everything just that more real to the group. So much so that at times the extended study that Chris would often employ could reveal strategies that would have eluded him if done without.
The world of medieval plots and twists, of forests and ogres, of swords and sorcery shattered around the large man as the Jeopardy theme song was hummed loudly right next to him. Loudly and badly in stereo by Felix and Malachai.
“Damnit you two.” He sounded a bit irate after being pulled out of his tactical reverie.
“New Record.” Nicholas stated. “Four seconds to break concentrative trance.”
Felix handed James a one dollar bill, who them proceeded to snap it a couple times to its full extension before placing it carefully folded into his pocket.
“You were Betting on that?!?” Chris was incredulous. “I know I was not THAT unaware!”
“Say who? So much concentrate. So much ‘blivious.” Malachai stated in his normal pidgin.
“They set it up last game session Chris. Your penchant for getting caught up in the tactics is becoming legendary in the guilds after all.” Their most intrepid game referee and master story teller replied. At least that was what he considered himself. The others perhaps a little bit les so.
Chris looked at James before he responded. “But, one dollar?”
Felix was the one to answer, with a poor imitation of an upper crust Wall Street accent. “It is not the Amount of the bet that matters, but rather the transaction of monetary format that takes true precedent in the matter.”
Chris gazed at Felix with an expression of strange incomprehension. As he did so James pulled out the bill once again to pull it open, straight and sharp. “Truly my good man. For at this level what is the value of just one dollar against the Millions it could truly represent?”
“Resist the urge to facepalm Chris. Resist it.” Nick said. “They got a hold of some old Eddie Murphy flicks recently.”
“Game on Guys.” Felix pointed back at the board, once again interested in their weekly session rather than verbal shenanigans.
Chris of course was more than happy to do so. So once again he gathered his attention and turned his mental focus inwards. The figurine stood outside the walls of a ruined castle. To him the painted and etched Styrofoam walls seemed to gain more detail as in his mind he once again because a human of roguish looks and talents. This was altogether a normal thing for him, it was how he would get drawn into the tactical reality of whatever he did after all. Normally it was only a minds eye imagining, no matter how detailed. For some reason this time the damaged landscape felt more there, more true. Sort of like his senses becoming aligned to the textures far and above what had happened in the past. Sight alone would have been a powerful illusion, but the smell of the battlefield carrion amongst the chalk and tar threatened to churn his stomach.
The taller man was brought out of his intense vision by Felix cursing out loud and waiving his hands in front of himself. The smaller person was dealing with his own visual shift. In his case it was a strange swirling vortex of colors that seemed to outline every solid object. As if he could see the very whisps of air and matter as a rainbow kaleidoscope representation gifted directly into his visual cortex. More real than any experimentation that he had yet indulged upon. He could count himself lucky though as it was only seen and not felt by any type of accompaniment like he had dealt with when on various types of substances. The young man could do nothing but curse aloud as he did not trust moving around.
For Nick the world suddenly seemed to get very small and fragile. Like it was made of cardboard and tinfoil. A thought of how easy it would be to destroy the end table next to him if he just twitched his leg wrong. That if he was to sneeze or cough the gaming area would be blown through the wall opposite. If not shred the meat from the bones of his friends nearby. The pressure from sitting down became conscious to him. What would happen if he shifted? Would the couch break, shatter? Worse? He was holding very still until he heard Felix begin cursing up a storm. He startled and felt some of the wood frame crunch below him.
Across from Nick James saw the outlines of people moving through the room. It was completely fascinating, so much so that he didn’t say a thing. Just concentrated on watching them. As he processed what he saw he was tempted to share it. He loved to analyze, it was a part of his core being. Watching others and discerning what they would potentially do was more than just a past time for him. Many would think that James was just a bit slow or perhaps quiet, but in reality he liked to make sure he was spot on before opening up his mouth to state anything. He continued to watch the ghostly figures, it almost like they were acting out a crime scene investigation like he loved to watch on the streaming networks. Yet with barely more than their silhouettes moving around he was not yet sure what he was looking at.
They vanished like the popping of soap bubbles as soon as Felix howled out sparking off the crunching of the wooden frame under their game master.
Where Chris was focusing down and through Malachai found himself pulled up and out. His consciousness expanding to encompass more. He did not know what this ‘More’ was, only that he could now comprehend concepts that had been beyond his ken prior. Now mere child’s play to conceive. The equations of reality his to command. The underlying truths that everything is connected. Everything entangled below the quantum level. With a wave of his hand in one direction a person would make a choice across the world different. A sneeze could make or break an empire. The butterfly effect was a truism to him now rather than a fascinating discussion. He was about to tell his friend Felix how to truly win his age old argument when their cursing pushed him back into his body.
“Damned Cocksucking donkey balled liver goodie two shoe fracking asshole destroyed testicular monkey shit fuck damn box fuck!” Malachai shouted out in his own stream of cursing.
The other four looked at him, expressions of extreme bewilderment on their faces.
“Shit Mal, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Chris said. His own brief sojourn into an altered state of mind temporarily forgotten.
The others watched on, their own inquisitive or querulous expressions at their friends sudden burst of out of character profanity.
“What? Just worked how bring Sword to Gunfight and Win.” He said with a nonplussed tone.
Felix looked around the room. “Did we just experience a group hallucination?” He picked up his beer and looked at it suspiciously. “Fuck Chris, where’d ya get this drink?”
Nick struggled to get out of his now sunken seat in the damaged couch. He was a good foot lower to the ground and was being poked by the framework in ways that were not really that comfortable. “Guys, I’m not sure that was actually a trip.” He gave up attempting to get himself out of the couch. “A hand anyone? I seem to have damaged the couch.”
James got up out of his seat to grab his friends hand. Once grasped he felt a shock, almost like static electricity but not. “I’m not sure we are done quite yet…”
Things began to get weird again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“No, no, no, no, no……” The old man Chanted in rejection as the energy matrix of the room was attempting to stall out.
He stepped out of the Eldritch flow when he came to a largish console with an old style cathode ray tube lower screen and a biological interface clamshell holograph above. The many hued flow of sparks and streams continued in his absence, like a river still moving even after its source went dry.
The keypad below his hands was a mechanical affair, it gave off metallic clacking sounds as his spidery digits rapidly flew across it. Code streamed down the flickering displays. Whispering to it gently the upper graphics flexed into a glowing violet ball. The code sphere bobbed over to the nearest bed, the one containing the granite skinned man.
“So Gonarded. Search protocols are corrupted. Soul encounter programs are being…. Grounded?” He scratched the side of his head in confusion. “Not right. Need to enter an extant algorithmic web."
He stepped away from the console to move in with the Aetheric Flow once more. Presenting his body as a source in the stream not unlike a stirring ladle in a giant cauldron. He moved, pulling the pulsing lights along in his wake. A turn of the room, then another. The large flywheel contraption along one wall began to spin up properly, now discharging the Heart Pulse again. Now that it was stabilizing the Old Man stepped up to a complicated multi format bellows. Seven accordion push and pull oiled cloth bars comprised the machine. In a defined yet slightly chaotic order he worked the control rods. A whistling tune began to caterwaul from inside the vessel. At different pitches as the bagged device hollered out the bodies of the Great Warriors would twitch and flop. First an arm, or leg then a grasp of toes or hands.
“That’s better.”
The next device was a more standardized computer interface. Something mass manufactured rather than cobbled together. Except that with each keystroke a mote of energy would sift in the flow of the room rather than letters appear on the screen.
“There you are Wilheim… But why so far? Your shell is safe. You need not travel to the next inclination.” He tapped out a different combination and the coded sphere moved out of the granite body and on to the dusky rose skinned warrior.
“Bethran. I see you, but is that you? Energy ordered in the way of Essenz. Vital and secure yes, but where is your spark of ingenuity? Xentul could not have devoured that and not devoured you whole.” He walked clockwise once again. Stopping at the bovine head to feed it a long yellow tuber. Once it was munching contentedly and the wired leading out of the side of its skull pulsing with a similar colored energy he moved on to the bellows once again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Nice to finally get settled down from all that weirdness.” Felix said as he reorganized his papers for the umpteenth time.
Nick had found a new place to sit after they had checked the various gas and smoke detectors to make sure they hadn’t been breathing something odd.
“Alright, lets get back to it shall we gents? Sheets out and dice up, there’s a keep that needs storming.” The Game Master stifled a large yawn as he spoke.
Chris shook his head as he passed out some drinks to the group. “Don’t start that so early Nick. Especially after already downing an energy drink. We haven’t even had a chance to figure out if we’re getting epileptic octopi or suicide bomber beetles yet.”
The others chuckled as Malachai added with an ominous tone. “Not giving Nick ideas. Bad end we find.”
James was going to add something but found a sudden grounding of his energy. As if suddenly he had been up for an entire week straight. He could not stifle his own yawn as his energy came back just as quickly. “Chris, are you sure your carbon monoxide sensor is working correctly?”
He laughed. “We already checked those. Remember?” We have a few more yawns and suddenly it’s a gas leak again?” Besides we alre-“ He yawned greatly and felt his vision waver for a moment. “Shit. Felix, get the front do-“
Nearest to the door Felix was no slouch and was the fastest of the friends. As Chris fell over mid sentence he was already moving into action, yet he never made it to his objective. His last thoughts were about why they seemed to be suffocating on such a beautiful clear day.
By this time James was already unconscious and had ceased to breath, his head lolled to one side. Malachai slumped forward, falling face first into the table that contained the game miniatures on the fake landscape. In the kitchen doorway Nick was clawing at the trim of the frame. Sweat beading on his forehead as he desperately fought whatever had been pulling him into the abyss. Eventually he too fell. His head hit the hardwood of the floor and bounced once. Nicholas Anderson’s eyes were wide open and glassy. Unseeing and still as the flicker of whatever it was that made a person a person fled from within his body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Prologue V
Authors Post Script –
So, what do you guys think? End of the Prologue! On to the first chapter of the Book! I’ll be working on this tonight and my hope is that I’ll get at least a couple thousand words of it done before I get too exhausted. The Muse has me by the short hairs tonight, I must comply!