Volume One
VKG
34/12/5032 Comet B-34, 45 nil 12/6/1943 Outer Space, 2:30 pm
With any and all experience crafted through time and space in this cloaked solar system, my purpose is letting history know of the world behind the curtains. My hands are now withered with age, my teeth and bones have brittled through years of adventure. I have come to a realization about Ethnael, the planet. The indigenous race’s motivation within itself seems noble, but my wisdom, along with a grain of salt, would explain that all nobility, no matter how righteous, has a selfish claw. Understanding who these people were, how they are now, and their drive, has solved this millenia old mystery. The Aether, Ethnael’s indigenous race, assign themselves the duty of keeping the Shadeway shielded from the human’s view of the solar system. There are three branches of their mission guard: the Cape, Sword, and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
The Cape is in charge of keeping the magical ruin up, keeping Ethnael and other planets cloaked from eyes. They are ferocious warriors dedicated to the on and upkeep of this cloak. In my time, I’ve had only one encounter with a arrior, and that sole encounter was the closest I’ve me to meeting Seshir. The Swords are the investigators of the Aether, d throughout the Shadeway Solar System. They are st experienced undercover agents for the time that I ed and longer, surveying any threats of exposure and ting them. The Swords were known for being able through the technology of Flexerns, a skin mask ovides full body coverage and ensures the invisibility ndividual. Those using it are still traceable through ngerprints, however the Swords’ initiation ritual s the burning of all eight of their fingertips. Their d, burnt digits are their only recognizable trait while er form. The Spirit doubles as the government and trators of the finer points of the Aether’s overall system. The Spirit consists of twenty-five of the s most experienced and wise individuals. My d colleague, Eslem, was once a member of the Spirit he was renowned for creating some of the greatest AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
work, and occasionally the Capes’, as well. But the Spirit also oversees graduating Aethers guilds, as every Aether graduating from an Academy is considered by this council and assigned to a branch. But the question that is unanswered, is why the Aether would have dedicated themselves to keeping the other Shadeway races’ mistakes under the radar. Mostly, if not entirely, according to my research, it has to do with their religion. Centered around our goddess, Valeryn, the creator of the Shadeway Solar System, this practice has been long forgotten by the other races. Their culture and history are documented on the walls of their architecture. The Hall of Memero is larger than a coliseum and is a labyrinth of murals depicting Valeryn creating this Solar System, her assigned duty for the Aether, her death, and where the Aether are today.
against Valeryn’s wishes, is not a peaceful time. From ent publication of research by the Celloun, the Fior s, we have learned that Musecial’s reclusive people w thought to be extinct. Planets are land, but Musecial al. When I was a young shadow, back when the n and Celloun were still allied, a team of researchers ten special permission by the Musecial’s people to h the planet’s gravitational altering power. They Musecial to be a great power source, and because of umed extinction of Musecial’s people, this discovery the war we are fighting today. Broken and forming s battle in conflict for control of this great power hat could forge the beginning of a new technological h life is contending for the role of the leader of this me. The Aether decided to stay true to their quest to e Shadeway hidden, since time is a non-affecting o their life spans. The Cape has had the difficult task taining a delicate balance of keeping Pluto, human’s or Musecial, looking peaceful while in view. The ob was a crucial one, managing the variables of war man research. I find the species in the Shadeway system quite g, like unsatisfied facewyk, always looking for the AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
the present drive my current research.
I identify first and foremost as the last of Musecial’s necromancers, and the magical souls that create the gravitational altering power are the very power that each race seeks to control. This power is housed in a sacred gift from Valeryn: The Throne of Suspension, a waiting doc for Seshir, our afterlife. A golden cathedra, although wondrous from afar, the depictions of this seat swim in lost mangled souls and the heartbreaking journey of life carved on itself. If this throne of power is tampered with, the last of the Aether’s concerns would be completing their quest to Valeryn. This war has also given me much work alongside my investigation, harnessing many souls from marred battlefields. What is seemingly unknown, despite the Aether’s long memory, is that Musecial is a planet of adopted species, for those who understand the gift of death and the journey of life before it. This war accordingly dawns the light of a new era of wisdom, but these generations seem to grow in the art of idiocracy for there have only been four worthy of ascending to Musecial. My research and life work will end soon. My skin is translucent leather draped over my bones and the necromancy of my time has painted my blood purple. These four worthy of ascension will lay me to rest, but first I must AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
dark future of the Shadeway.
Battlefield Nex has a turn out of twenty-eight souls added to the Throne of Suspension , and unfortunately a hidden gatekeeper of Musecial was a casualty among them. Skeu was her name, a kind gatekeeper, unfortunately not as efficient as she needed to be in this short-handed time, but vital, nonetheless. Regrettably, given the circumstances, I now have to search for the four earlier than anticipated. I had hoped to wait another few tiven, but with Skeu’s soul as a recent addition to the Throne of Suspension , I must cultivate them quickly in their aptitudes. After calling on some old connections, I have discovered that one of these chosen four were a Likvorm, and another Phoren. I cannot unfortunately manipulate team dynamics, but having a Likvorm lead these shades would be preferable. Dragonic nature is very noble and protective to its party. But in any matter, my colleague, Lieutenant Professor Zebiul, is a teacher of this Likvorm, and through pulling some strings I will be in the back of his class to find them. In coordination, Zebiul will take them to a disclosed spot where they will be trained under my charge, if they agree. *That date is at 34/28/5032 at the Dragon- Mark Academy, Cynthew (12/14/1943). Only nine vix from now, I will meet the first of the four. I’ll admit I’m in subtle anticipation for the first member of the team.
in the Musecial aptitude arts. Although I’m having ubts. Indubitably I will have to hand down the ’s secrets, my research, and life work, but will they e fortitude that I’ve refined for my series of tiven? There aren’t peaceful times to leisurely train them. I e to meticulously plan for a pinnacle training within time frame with averaged limits. I do however feel some remorse for them, ing a line of child soldiers is not how I’d prefer to legacy. So in promise to myself, I am making an I, Elmund Fertyun, will be in emotional, physical, ining care for these four, or may I never enter the ates of Seshir. Unfortunately I cannot predetermine their aptitudes er necromancer or the role of a gatekeeper. Doing so be much more comforting than going in blind, that is the queer nature of finding shades. I will place t in Valeryn. Until then I’m due for quite a few more battlefields ess souls from. I am getting low on my life energy l need to replenish that promptly from the Throne.
Day 19 with Elmund
Fact one: Musecial’s species never went extinct. Fact two: Necromancy is very real and from the basic theorems I’ve read it has more to do with life than death. Fact Three: I have no clue who or what Elmund is but he’s different from past mentors I’ve had. The fact that Musecial is still thriving, or whatever ghelx pun someone would make, doesn’t exactly make sense. I’m starting to wrap my head around the fact that so many history books I’ve read are wrong, but Elmund’s explanation also has some holes in it. One, history clearly depicts Musecial’s native species, the Ntekay, clearly, and there are books upon books chronicling experiments about their DNA bodily properties, you name it…. There’s a complete gap from the story of Musecial being an adoptive planet and the books upon books detailing the amount of hard work it took to make it that way. This new point in my life is pretty obviously flipping AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
fake race, just for the sake of cover. Moot point. The were infamous for being reclusive and standoffish ere have been video recordings of peace treaty s of their late Queen Melica before they went extinct ng an entirely different nature – social, warm, even rted at times. It’s such annoying ghelx, especially ecromancy in light. I mean, going down the what if pod, what if the were some faraway race that the Aether killed and secial people used them for cover. Or what if the was just a manipulation of power all along? I’ve recently come to understand that Necromancy lly a second stage of life instead of death, it comes e ideology that the body expires before the soul. The st be separated, in order to bring the body to rest in d then for the soul to return to Seshir at the hands of ekeepers from Valeryn, to make them again a new nd a refreshed soul. But there are so many holes I don’t even know o start: 1. Where does necromancy source its power from in the body? 2. Where does the information about the soul and Seshir come from? 3. Am I in over my head, knowing that I
The nightly reading has helped but only so much, as I can’t access the higher level books until the library thinks I’m ready. And I can’t keep pushing buttons until something works. I’ve only been given that lecture once by Elmund, but he brought a book along to drive the point home. It still makes me shiver. Not to mention I know next to nothing of Elmund personally. He’s pretentious but wise, he’s meticulously careful and goal oriented, but he doesn’t make sense. There’s a fine line that I unknowingly cross with him. So far, I can’t specifically help him or be emotional around him if the info I’ve gathered is correct, but somehow I’m also required to be close to him – think things out, joke, talk, and ask for guidance. Sure, the guy knows what he’s talking about, and he has his demands, but I don’t even know what those demands are. He keeps me in the dark while simultaneously showing me the truth and light of discoveries that have remained hidden to me up until now. I’m pretty ojklen sure he knows about my night trips to his (our?) library, but he still doesn’t mention them. I’m only met with a flash of consideration in his milky, clouded purple eyes, then told to take up a knife to help prep breakfast. Would it be worth it to ask the questions like a bull in a china shop, or would it be too soon? Elmund’s a lot like a spooked animal, only with more white hair and a bone-deep sense of danger attached to him. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
frock tied with sailor's rope at his waist that also sheathed dagger and a small, worn book. During my time spent with Elmund, he’s incessantly pages and taking notes, constantly reading and but the second my hand even brushes it I come injury. There is a time I hope he shares with me his but I can’t even guarantee I know his favorite meal. It’s just so frustrating that he can tell me a breaking secret, but I don’t know if he likes ghast s or dews more.
Day 21-22 with Elmund
Necromancy is varied in the way each user attempts it, the magic is similar to inviting a secondary aura to your consciousness. The tricky part is being able to harness it. Elmund’s adamant about not being friends with this aura, it is better to control it than give a chance to control you, he often advises . Elmund uses brute force to control his magic, and that isn’t working very kindly for me. I can’t befriend it, there’s no cunning with a secondary consciousness, nor is there much room for error with Necromancy. Tonight I have tried to ask Elmund what I could do, but the man did not spare a look, only a few gruff words: “That’s your own personal journey, I can’t tell you what your consciousness is or isn’t. You’ll figure it out, or die trying. I can’t control what isn’t in my hands or my magic.” It’s hard to tell if he feels guilt about my possible AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
ompartmentalization. With his age and wisdom, I y he hasn’t been through the cold and horror, I can’t uess now how this job (mission?) is going to affect che, but I will undoubtedly find out. So I watch the coldness drift along with me as d shifts me through meditative poses, letting my ess flux itself to my will. The power grinds against n as it takes me many and many breaths to mold my usnesses together. I believe that Elmund watches with disappointment. Every morning, the same sixty-four poses and pauses to take many breaths and observe many f suns. I am learning that my death is particular, in f hard commands with its soft demeanor, not to its power. I believe it demands a symphony of neity, pure unity. The unity is a partnership that wo souls to coexist in one body. I once heard at the Academy that your sword magic are of you as you are of it. But how would that work arnessing Necrotic Energy? When you use blade you breathe life to ultimately bring death. It brings eventually balance out the yin. Necrotic energy is osite. There’s no conceivable balance, it’s taking and or the end of a greater goal (which is still unknown: mund). I was learning to watch my blood circle AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
in the reverse direction.
Elmund’s told me vix by vix that there is no greater philosophy on an almost extinct art, there is no past wisdom from earlier generations. I believe it’s because death can be mindless, like war. There is no need for thought or consideration, your goal is to bathe in the different colors of your enemy and concur. So, perhaps I think too much. Especially as there is nothing to think about, not as I breathe through the sixty-four positions, not as I acknowledge and harness. I slip through the positions and I breathe. I let the cacophony of all noise fade as my feet balance in place, as I feel the breaking gravel under the leather. My hands slide in practice, movements of stretching to the East Sun and the West Moon. My feet cannot lift, but only glide as quietly as I let my vex form to lock into a meditative state, as my magic crowds my body and itches my skin. In the next motion, my butt hits the ground in surprise. I fell, not unexpectedly to any extent. I once again thought too hard about something simple. I was attempting to tame the untamable. I brushed off my pants and checked my tail, which already shows signs of bruising and unrest as the scales are slightly lifted to alleviate my underskin. And I began again. Feet on the gravel, hands gliding through sky, my AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
n a position of an attacking praying mantis. I exhale next, flowing my forearms in a circle, dipping down wings extend, a sharp inhale in. With a long breath ding forward into Fudo-Dachi, all strong angles and still like a rock against wind. So I continue. Elmund takes me out of exercises late, when the East turned North, and interrupts me by jabbing the f a cooking ladle into my temple. He says it’s time to d afterward, for me to rest tonight. We both eat and ravenously as my training left me in avoidance needs. Not realizing how hungry I was until now, I not to ask Elmund why he eats like it’ll be stolen m. Today isn’t a question dinner. While we eat, I nd my mentor talks. Not just of advice, but small pieces of his life, he vague stories that end in tapered sighs to prove a Elmund explains that the training, what little he saw was an improvement, but I cannot sacrifice my ess for unity. He explains in detail how that has ome of the best, not always from necromancy, but aling and sword magic as well. “There is no reason to consider yourself a saint, no need to be martyred by losing awareness of what be. You have the skill, just lose the tunnel vision. forget it.” His bony finger pointed straight in AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
This night, I do not study.
been training this Likvorm, Knox, for all of two he conclusion from his aptitude test confirms that he ecromancer. Fortunately, Knox seems to be an e start for the next generation of Musecial. Knox tially training to be a swordsman in the Dragon- cademy, in the double sword style. He has proven to k to learn and makes notes of his own. Although y Knox sees me as an idol. I find that illogical and childish. Age explains there heroes that are selfless and greet death as a reaper ves. I am not ignorant of my selfishness and I will e it to an extent, though I do have a few lines… What etaphor humans use… in the sand(?). I hope to strip f morality and its internal dilemma as my mentor did No angle of a necromancer’s work is heroic or In any assessment, Knox’s training has gone well; ew vix ago he accomplished his first kill and soul . I’ve learned that the young Likvorm works best show him; repetitively, he takes notes, and finally estions before trying to practice the magic on his he boy is no genius, but his work ethic is exceptional. my observation and occasional surveillance he seems y into the night. Knox is usually deeply engrossed in AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
gravitate to basic magic and necromancy theory.
Consequently, I feel that I may have to play into the mentor role more than I’d prefer if Knox decides to start creating personal technique and his own style of magic. Given how studious and sponge-like the boy is, I continue to wonder how he consistantly has more energy than thirty racing fire-birds. Outside his studies he is clumsy and flustered. I theorize that his mind cannot focus when there is a lack of abnormality and it wanders, leaving the body all but helpless to words and rocks to trip on. Unfortunately Knox isn’t a very traditional young Likvorm, in the sense that I predicted him to be. Mostly, if not entirely, dragonic young are ruled by instincts and values projected through their generally hard-earned trust, protectiveness, and strict family-first policy. However, Knox does not seem to be activated in this sense. Moreover, in comparison to other young Likvorm, he seems almost ditzy in his instinctive mind. Although this does uncomplicate future problems of instinct ruled over logic, I cannot rest easy knowing that I cannot predict how this variable will affect the pedagogical plans I’ve laid out for my student. I do not believe time will tell this secret, only action will, and for better or worse we have not experienced any complications as such. Tomorrow we shall arrive upon Musecial and its AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
al's abundance of power.
The Battle Tactics classroom in the Dragon-Mark is drafty, but I am fortunate no student has picked up my scent yet. Lieutenant Professor Zebiul {as he insists everyone calls him}, had been rehashing his class on Sliken War Tactics. Before class, he’d given me the file on my current disciple, although then when I first saw Knox’s full record, I’d assumed I’d be teaching a genius, not the energy-addled, although quite exceptional, klutz I have on my hands now. From what I had observed of Knox, his usage was stuck on only half brain capacity. Every now and then, he’d lazily take notes. It sparked a lively {and much more interesting than the yak-klots lesson} internal debate, as to whether Knox was either bored, or a genius dressed in idiocracy, like I had been when I was young. Throughout the lesson, Zebiul’s stiff gray eyes glimpsed at me and away disapprovingly. His irritation with me could be for taking his student, or perhaps he’s still angry at me for the Vehera incident on his retirement day. In any case, Knox seemed average and unable to meet my most basic expectations at the time of our first parasocial meet. But later, when Knox had come stumbling into the catacombs room with Zebiul tugging at his elbow, there was something different about his eyes. It’s a look I hadn’t seen in a long while, that type of look was only from someone AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
al’s people, but later seemed off-put. Unfortunately, had mostly spent time with the deceased, I had taken an early no. But in actuality, it was the time the shade needed to process all that his agreement . There are two major observations I’ve garnered after xi with my new protege; one, Knox is light. He’s n constant surveillance of his surroundings, and still atic with his personality. Secondly, Knox creates his uality; he’s kind, but also merciless to those he s or disrespects around him. It creates whiplash for at times, as I develop an understanding of who he is t. As I've continually filled Knox in about the other cendants, and provided information about his future he seems to stick closer to myself, and on numerous ns he’s shown adamancy that we must find the other s quickly as possible. Knox is consistent with , and his emotion is almost too linear, which makes nder about his excitement and need to change the Why add others to our accelerated training, when gns point to Knox being unable to accept change? he might be trying to find a sense of control in this .
for the times we are in now. I can extend Knox the courtesy of saying the pace he follows me at is quite notable. Currently we are rapidly approaching Musecial and its barrier, so the fior smoke is thickening. Disappointingly, my lungs now fail me in these ages and my coughing is not keeping this mission as stealthy as needed. Knox seems to be overly concerned about my well being, rather than the objective at the moment. I’ll have to revisit that misstep, in the end the objective outweighs the comradery.
s a great sense of wonder and power young shades en they first rest themselves on the grounds of our me. But this triumphant feeling also comes with a f betrayal. The widely circulated idea history of the ay has painted Musecial as nothing akin to the deep oils and thick black smoke that instills this elming sense of atmospheric wonder. The iece of Musecial is the temple where all the pers are stationed and where the Throne is located, As we walked there, I began to tell Knox about how one came to be. “In the long history of Shadeway’s creation, Valeryn d gifts to each of the eleven planets in the Shadeway, Musecial she imparted the Throne of Suspension . The is much like a live purgatory for the dead, where ait when they have not quite been transferred to and are not wandering ghouls. “Musecial was one of the planets that inherited one hree holy quests, which was the seamless delivery of ay’s dead to their next life. Over time, and as we more understaffed, we discovered other gifts this has blessed us with. The one I use most often is the ightening technique. Although I must admit I’m not of it.” I continued to tell Knox, “It has been a AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
technique takes excess energy from the Throne and adds it on to my life span. This is how I’ve survived this long overdue century, and until I’ve trained you and the other three, I cannot rest,” Knox watched me tentatively touch the Throne. Each time I do so, I’m washed over with waves of regret. I am taking years from people’s souls that they didn’t have the opportunity to live. But in truth, this was the unfortunate greater good the Shadeway created for itself and its future. Knox found it all fascinating. I could see his eyes tracing the leather folds in my face, where they reside for the time being {until in a few years time they sink even deeper}. Then, in that moment, I came to a new discovery, in that my student is practical. He only asks to know what to study to carry on these techniques. This is quite an improvement from the care he’d shown me earlier in reaction to the Fior smoke. Currently I am letting him come to the back room archives of the temple, although most species would restrict access to the more experienced. In these documents, us Shadows watch as the knowledge is remembered by the elderly among us and found by the young, for the transfer of wisdom cannot be stopped, only helped along.
The Glranpt was stationed on an ex-battlefield of the Maiden war in 45 skrzt. It was a humble bar and a place to swap stories between sips of tyun and furl. The food was lackluster, but adequate for the tired patrons as they rested their limbs and scales and opened their pockets for a drink. The Glranpt could only be described as comfy, featuring a never extinguishing turquoise fire in the corner alcove, and floors of kelvar wood that matched the rustic stools and tables that were scattered around the tavern. Selma Henks was the bartender, cook, server, busser, and owner of the quaint, populated joint, and the only employee. He was young compared to the century-old species that frequented, but the slight creases of crow’s feet and worry lines gave his eyes an aura of age and wisdom that was magnetic. Selma was a listener; while keeping everyone at the bar in service, he caught wind of the stories only the important figures would usually know. The Glranpt attracted adventurers, councilmen, warriors, and labor workers all the same. No matter the AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
ance was afoot, as the regulars and Selma himself felt o of an awesome story settling into the tavern to tell The few customers of the eve composed steady rs and ripples in the atmosphere. As regulars forged onversations with each other and the other customers around the place, it all seemed to come to life like a p toy as a weary adventurer opened the heavy n door. Selma’s livelihood had taught him to not only listen read as well. His eyes didn’t deceive him as he the adventurer was worth every salt rock the Tavern ent through. He was the type of adventurer who he start of a hero’s journey, or a name that would go n history, but the type of adventurer who had seen vices of absurdity and reached for more. The stool led out as his presence was noted, and most guests ed closer, setting up for a good night with this species traveler. As he slid the menu toward him, oted the cracked mud that veiled the strong hands of eler and added it to the catalog of the story he was o explore with the creature. A rare silence fell over the bar as fellow patrons took raveler’s appearance while he chose a drink. Despite that Phoren were known as the mud fluidity species Shadeway, this man’s clay coat was dusty, dry, and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
The pack he had slumped at the foot of the bar stool he occupied was almost comically small in comparison to his stature and made of a dull canvas. It had a simple iron mug and bowl clipped to its front and sagged with its scarce contents. But the man’s most interesting accessory was without a doubt his worn leather belt. It held copious sheaths for hunting knives, all seemingly well-worn and immaculately cared for, just like the bone-carved clip holding his willow-twigged hair in a ponytail. His siren-like voice captured and croaked with age as he spoke, “Tab open under the name Sybo, a stein of tyun sharp, and some Scyer meat please.” Selma cleared his throat smoothly as he did before he opened any grand story from a stranger, grabbing one of the larger steins and filling it with the strong alcohol. “Sybo, welcome to the Glranpt. Care to trade this drink for a tale?” The clay clumps on his face shifted slowly in consideration and deliberation as the other patrons around the bar leaned forward. Now the only sounds to be heard were the whispers of the fire, the sips and swishes of alcohol, and the taps and scrapes against the tables and floor. “Lad, if someone can light my pipe, I’ll tell any tale you please. Don’t short-sell your spirits, your bar deserves more respect than that.” Although his gruff voice chastised the boy, his laughing eyes hid the mirthful tone beneath. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
lip of the glass and dribbled its way to his hand. umbled for their bags and pockets looking for a light, he end, a vague presence Casaquah handed the man ll metal object hidden in his redwood fur and waited y for the adventurer to light his smoke. The syrup-like smoke fluxed to the ceiling, pooling kscrew of vex fog waiting for its user to tell it how to ette, and as Selma placed the meal in front of Sybo: began. “Twasn’t on purpose, the truth of my recollection is nce of happening. Lucky or unlucky, but I was g En Spectre on the Aether's planet and I caught f one of their Medil. Their commanders had shot ained on the guy and a few bgink hounds. They were down the escaping Medil, or to be more exact, they nishing their hunt.” “Azure blood had deeply stained the Medil’s cloak, f it looked dried, crusting parts of the cloak in the ng color. The chase had been going on long enough od to dry. En Spectre’s fine coat of red dusted the scene. But just as the prey was about to turn the one of the hounds had a mutilating grip on an ankle. mmanders showed no mercy, which I found odd what is more valuable than a Medil, especially one in Qi. But they watched stone-faced as the bgink AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
Lieutenant of the operation was Bten Royce.”
The bated breath of the inn patrons quickly shifted to vehement denial, most minds were simply unable to accept the reality the adventurer’s words offered. Bten Royce was the known pacifist Commander taking the lead of Aether's political anti-war front. Royce was known as the media’s favorite anomaly; he was a talker rather than a fighter, able to gain nods and attention from only a few words. There had been many fleeting thoughts of how dangerous a Commander with that natural charisma was, but now Sybo voiced a more violent vision of the man. “He had that same smile from his broadcast, that radiated safety and warmth. Yet he also cued the dogs for their next meal. His voice became hauntingly hollow as he said, ‘811, you’ve killed one of our soldiers, threatened to expose secrets of the Unit, and exhausted what little patience I had for you. Many would call your death unnecessary, but all of us here will one day know that your severed head in the meeting room is a grave reminder. The Unit is not forgetful.’ “The hounds were painted in the thick blue of the Medil’s blood in minutes; when the carcass’s meat was depleted, the bones were employed as temporary toys, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
et go of the breath they had been forcing themselves
“I watched in what I could only say was a pure ed terror as the men cleaned the blood and nts, almost casually erasing the footsteps of the Sybo’s vex fog dissipated the vague drawings that ong with his tale, and the company was left in the Delicately hanging by their nails to the cliff of Sybo’s the atmosphere left an unfinished feeling. An aroma ma knew was commonly associated with the type of but momentarily forgotten in his hypnotic e. A Kibbin scoffed at Sybo, a businessman ly self-important, and a customer Selma had only ce before. “Tis that all, Sybo the Phoren, you’ve come to waste erest on an unfinished tale. One that we may never more the likes of, you may have well just wasted our !” bbin raised himself to its top height, albeit still much than Sybo himself, all six of his furry legs stretched se upon the story. “I disagree with that Olind,” a greasy Peltab refuted, tard mucus trailing to argue with his friend nose to Ye’ can’t truly believe that any adventurer’s story is , think about it. The dragon finds his lost gem to AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
“Yet he wastes the nil!” Olind began to counter, but
the friend held up a tentacle to continue his point.
“But what happens to the Face Snatcher? We learn the stone holds no power, so how does the Dragon and Wahaal story end?”
Bten Royce
Start rolling of cassette recording with a crackle wait a second or two
BTEN : is it working….testing, one, two.
(Click, the recording plays voice back, click)
BTEN : G-ood, okay.
BTEN : I am Bten Royce, and this will be my audio documenting my research of Queen Melica, late queen of Musecial, a now… uh … uninhabited planet, that once housed the first and last Socialist Monarchy within the Shade way
_audio break_
Queen Melica was a Ntekay – now an extinct – in the Shade Way…..
long pause)
ng stops for a second) ….
S-so I will start at the beginning, background info ff…
breath: Ghelx's stuff isn-)
bling is cut out of recording…
Musecial was a passive agricultural planet, one of ’s chosen to master alignite necromancy, although Queen created an interesting pivot in the magic. ved through the eyes of the goddess, solely focusing esting souls and laying them to rest.
audio break*
However, Melica, or Trimgye Melica at a young age, d to have a much more astute and tense disposition. ferentiated her from the average Ntekay, as it is told AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
about establishing their planet, arguing with anyone she could find to point out the array of monarchies, patriarchs, and governments that used Capitalism and Communism.
Though this point in her life mostly led to naught because of the non-ruled standard Musecial had set for itself… uh…
*Checking notes rifling papers*
BTEN : Nevertheless, she found herself at a breakthrough several years later when the Crystal maiden war began encroaching upon Musecial in 26 skrzt. As also shown in the Hall of Memero, the Queen was manipulative, creative with her words, charismatic in her leadership, unreasonably persistent, and well-argued. The year gave her a rush to power making the throne of suspension a housing home to her coronation and queenship. BTEN: The Queen herded her people into socialism, in this time of war, convincing them that all resources should be guided under her hand so as to make certain the time of crisis would not fold their eco-structure. Quietly she took necromancers in non-essential positions under her training to create a secret army for the crystal maiden's field, although this war was one of the most tumultuous and AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
owledge we had of her people.
But, as I am risking my life for this research and will recap. As Deximillian and Brenia’s fleets fought w and Neshjangs for the orbital flow in Musecial’s Melica used combinations of contra flanking and er and Anvil strategy to kill off lines of either side’s at a time. Necromancy played a large part in either g old bones to fight in their army or using soul tears. Melica wasn’t just a respected strategist of history – s fear-inducing for other leaders; neither death nor ounts scared her as she fought alongside her armies. oming nbentil, her rule was officialized, which led to meetings of the leaders, and in little time, her surrendered with a peace treaty. She claimed ce to the territory under her jurisdiction and other es of excuses. But for her time she was feared, nding leaders around her and maintaining the edness of her people.
The Planets of the Shadeway
Demixillian (demi-xil-ian) - Moltenium’s species home planet
Zempest (zemp ǝ st) - Celloun’s species home planet
Quallow (kwäl ō ) - Vembrum’s species home planet
Brenia (br ˈɛ n ɪǝ ) - Kibbin’s species home planet
Ethnael ( ɛθǝ n ɔ l) - the Aether’s planet
Musecial (myuz ɪʃǝ l) - a power planet, created the big bang and a huge resource of power for the Shadeway Solar System home of the extinct species Ntekay
Velestia (Vel-les-tia) - Rethum’s species home planet
Neshjang (Nesh-ang) - Peltab’s species home planet
Hemineth (hymn-in-eth) - Phoren’s species home planet
Cynthew (syth-ew) - Likvorm’s species home planet
- the race living on Ethnael, also known as the Keepers. They are quartz white, with faint hints of skin tone, head tassels, down turned elf ears, and id white eyes. Their arms are long and flat like a ay with eight fingers at the end. Aether usually walk on their haunches, but the rest of their snake-like n move very quickly. ium - the race living on Demixillian, also known as a Planet. They look like large phoenixes with their n constant fire symbolizing their life source. n - the race living on Zempest, also known as the epers. They are small (4-5 ft tall) people with wings d to their 5-fingered arms. The Celloun have a skin purple or red. Their hair and horns are black, and ve two eyes and no mouth. um - the race living on Quallow, also known as the oke Planet. They are built strongly with large jaws, ad, angular torsos, legs, and arms. With six fingers, mbrum range between 5-ft tall and usually don goggles and overalls. They have a tassel on their e an Angler fish.
feet. Their lower body appears similar to a six-legged spider, while their upper body is shaped like an elf with a natural under bite and stronger jaw for chewing and purifying ores. Rethum - the race living on Velestia, also known as the Gold planet/people. The Rethum’s lower body resembles an octopus while their upper body appears more solid and is fused with their signature golden headpiece and armor. Peltab - the race living on Neshjang, also known as the Mind. They have large, flat, rounded heads marked with purple spots against their milky blue skin tone. The Peltab has four eyes, slit-like nostrils, and a long mouth. Their two arms are used as both tentacles and legs, and they have haunches like a goat. Phoren - the race living on Hemineth, also known as the Mud People The Phoren are sludge people made of mud and clay. They have no fingers, only slab-like arms made of mud. Their lower body is shaped very much like a slug, although their upper body appears more like a human man or woman, with solid black eyes and a wide mouth. The Phoren are known to leave a mud or clay residue in their trail
arched back and prominent haunches. They have a il, horns, wings, and spikes along the back side of ody. Their skin comes in a variety of colors (deep green, brown, black, red). Likvorm also have hollow ng bones for flight. h - the race living on Bhethora, also known as the m Mages. The Ascumh are snakelike people with , two horns, and long wings coming from the sides head (doubling as ears). Their long arms end in 6 ingers. The Ascum’s milky white skin contrasts with their mud red pupil.
- What the Shadeway considered to be Musicial’s
ah - little furry guys
marks and Locations
ranpt: a comfy tavern, stationed on an ex-battlefield Maiden war in 45 skrzt, featuring a never ishing turquoise fire in the corner alcove, and floors AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
The Hall of Memero: larger than a coliseum; a labyrinth of murals depicting Valeryn creating this Solar System, her assigned duty for the Aether, her death, and where the Aether are today. The Comets (an RV-like System): Comets can be operated like an airBNB or motel used as a temporary place to stay, live, train, etc.
The Languages of the Shadeway
Eskel - common tongue
Geosage: Ancient common tongue
Telnogal: Less common secondary language
Cryotilian: Modern common tongue
General Terms
The Shadeway Solar System - the hidden cosmos of the Milky Way
s - face & body disguises being able to cover any
- damn and/or I’m willing to bet on
bad and/or shitty
s - numbered and in basic RVs for people
medic in Xelar and medical Qi surgeon
magical atom
e - the power on or of Musicial/rock
le
strong alcoholic spirit
a wood furniture cozy yet hardy
Terms
m
time EX 45 nil = 2:30 pm 4 divided by 2 and five by decimal
Mexi : weeks
Vix : days
Tiven : years
Skrzt : BCE oriented marking
This book was made in collaboration with Kathryn Ian Gentzke, founder of The CCC Project - a highly personalized, radically collaborative arts and humanities education platform for creative youth. Creativity, curiosity, and community are the values at the core of all of our work. To learn more about us, please visit www.cccproject.space.
way from them, yet we stand m the beginning of time until d of it. There have been ds of wars, explosions, and ven, that have never been seen ans, and never will.
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