Fluff:Eledheluial:Chapter 1

Eledheluial:Chapter 1
[Spiral, 5021 OC]

        It was beautiful, he had to admit that.  The blue-green ball spun
there in space, still far enough away to look small, but growing rapidly in
size.  The SWIFTWING was still in spelljamming speed, it would be ten
minutes or more before the vessel was close enough for the planet to drop
her down to tactical speed.  Then, assuming the star charts on Spiral were
accurate, another twenty minutes to set down in the harbor of Anfalas.  He
wondered if elven picket ships would board and inspect the SWIFTWING first.
The shrikeship had landed on Spiral before, many times according to her
crew,  but caution was always prudent when a spelljammer arrived bringing
the wider universe with it.
        He shook his head, and ran a hand through his brown, unkempt hair.
Something told him the Eledhel would not, could not be prudent.  The
SWIFTWING was a human vessel, yet she had been to Spiral many times.
According to the crew Spiral was colonized by the elves, yet they welcomed
human and dwarven settlers among them.  It was as if they felt by accepting
other races among themselves, they could atone for the arrogance and
isolation of most of the other elven worlds.  He smirked,  they would
atone, but it would not be as easy they seemed to think.  Yes, the elves of
Spiral would atone for the sins of their race.
        He shook himself clearing that pleasent thought from his mind.
Best not to dwell on a future which might not come to pass if he failed in
his mission.  He glanced about the ship, the crew lounging by their
stations as they waited for the lurch that meant the ship had dropped to
tactical speed and they would be needed in bringing the ship safely down.
None gave the tall, brown haired man a second glance, after the long voyage
from Greyspace he was familiar enough, several even thought he was a
friend.  That might be useful, later.
        He returned his attention to the planet they were rapidly
approaching.  In the distance he could just make out a large object
floating in orbit above Spiral.  A space station,  the Fleet headquarters
would be there and a portion of his mind noted the information even as he
felt the lurch of the drop to tatcical speed.  Spiral filled the horizon
now,  white clouds scudded across the atompshere and the contrasting greens
and blues now delineated continents and seas.  A high pitched whislte from
the quarterdeck pulled his attention to port, a swanship was now matching
the SWIFTWING in flight, and crewmen with flags were rapidly signalling
back and forth between the vessels.  After a few moments the swanship
banked off, leaving the shrikeship to continue her descent alone.
        Foolish, he noted, and that foolishness would make his mission much
easier to accomplish.  Even as that detached portion of his mind noted the
armament and crew of the elven ship, he began to review his mission
briefing...

--------------------------------------
[six months earlier, on Dukagsh]

        Yves Bukak walked through the halls of Vozagogalug, the tower of
his order, with a confidence that he did not entirely feel.  He had not
expected to be summoned so soon to the briefing chamber.  He had only
completed his training two weeks earlier,  in the past he and the other new
Vozagogat would have been taking positions as guards within the tower,
attending lectures and observing their superiors for a several months, at
least, before being sent on a mission.  Not to mention fulfilling their
duties in regards to continuing the order.  He had been the best in his
class, the most skilled, the most successful in field work.  But if one
such as he were being summoned now, to lead a mission only weeks after
finishing training, then the start of the War of Revenge must be closer
then he thought.  Anticipation and worry filled his mind as he stomped
through the tower's halls, anticipation at the elves he would see slain,
and worry that he might prove week, unable to aid the cause.
        Outside the briefing room two of his classmates stood guard, clad
in  black and silver studded leather emblazoned with a single red eye on
their chests.  Dressed as Yves himself, including the broadsword hanging
from his belt though he did not carry a halberd as they did.  He drew
himself up, and said loudly in scro, "Yves Bukak, reporting as ordered."
Yves could see the jealousy in their eyes as they opened the doors to the
briefing chamber and motioned him in.  Some could only see the potential
honor of such an early mission, not the dangers involved.
        Within the briefing chamber a short, white-haired old man sat
behind a large table,  he too wore the studded leather emblazoned with the
eye.  Sitting next to him were two battlescarred scro, both wore the
uniform of admirals in the Scro High Command.  The three watched the young
man enter the room with interest.
        Yves marched to the center of the room and presented a crisp
salute, his forearm vertical and upper arm forward, so that his raised,
gloved fist emblazoned with the another red eye faced the three at the
table.  "Almight Dukagsh Hail my Commanders!" Yves shouted.
        The white haired old man nodded, and Yves snapped his salute down
and returned to attention.  The old man was the commander of his order,
known only by his title, Sharku, now, which itself simply meant "Old Man"
in old orcish.  The Sharku was said to present each briefing personally, so
that he might keep better track of the orders operations.
        "Yves Bukak, you have done will in your training and field work.
You are now fully Vozagogat and ready for a mission.  Few receive a mission
this early, you are thus greatly honored." The old man spoke slowly, and
despite the fearsome appearence of the scro admirals next to him he
dominated the room.
        "You will proceed to Greela, in Greyspace where you will book
passage to the planet Spiral in Spiralspace. An elven colony world." As the
Sharku spoke Yves' blood went cold.  He was chosen for the mission because
he was young and would not be missed.  He was expected to fail.  As if he
could not read Yves every thought, the Sharku continued "You will remain on
Spiral for one year, examining the planet and preapring a report. You will
concentrate on planetary defences, and attempt to discover if any of the
lesser vermin, such as orcs or kobolds, also inhabit the planet. When your
time is done, return here and report.  The Sharku motioned to a packet of
papers sitting on a table nearby. "All we have on Spiral to date is there,
you leave at once."
        Yves again saluted, shouting "Vengeance is Ours!". After the Sharku
acknowledged the salute, the young Vozagogat spun opn his heel, retrieved
the packet, and marched back to his quarters to pack. A whole year among
the elves, and not permitted to slay any. Dukagsh had cursed him.  Nothing
for it, the War required that each fulfill their role.  Best to do the job
right,  then perhaps the elves he would have to smile and laugh with would
still get what they had coming.

-------------------------

        Yes, the elves' foolishness would make his job easier.  Of that
Yves was certain,  he only hoped the world proved suitable for conquest.
Watching the blue seas below and the thick, green forests along the coasts
as the SWIFTWING descended to the city below, a city of pristine white
offset by glittering silver and gold.


******************
Game Notes:
Vozagogat: An order of half-scro spies and assasins.  Based out of a tower,
Vozagogalug, on Dukagsh, the Vozagogat are bred from carefully selected
female human slaves.  All human, racially, yet thoroughly indoctrinated in
the teachings of Dukagsh. All Vozagogat believe they are the reincarnation
of great scro warriors from the past.  They see themselves as martyrs,
sacrificing their holy scro forms to take the shapes of the inferior humans
so that they main gain information vital to the war effort.  Beacues they
are fully human biologically, they can easily blend into most wildspace
communities.  They are few, less then a thousand at any one time, and spend
ten years in training, including fieldwork, before entering the order.
Other scro view them with contempt, but fear as they are are skilled
warriors and the masters of strange magical powers.


"We look on the same stars,  the sky is common,  the same world surrounds
us.  What difference does it make by what pains each seeks the truth?  We
can not attain to so great a secret by one road..."
Symmachus,  "Memorial on the Occasion of the Removal of the Altar of
Victory from the Senate House" (392 AD)

Paul Westermeyer,  westermeyer.3@???.edu
Phd Candidate, History, Ohio State
Adjunct Faculty, Humanities Department, Columbus State Community College