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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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Part 2

Me and my temporary companions rode north. I asked around the villages surrounding the city from what angle and direction my ship had crashed. Most were eager to point me in the right direction, but when told what it was and who it belonged to (me), they dropped their smiles.
“I don’t know what ye expect to find, love,” a nice elderly woman chided me, “yer entire flyin ship is made of star metal. That’s rare, and incredibly expensive. If it hasn’t been stripped of star metal by now, someone’s gotten a hold of it. And ye probably wouldn’t like who.”
As she gently closed the door, I slumped.
She was right, anyone with any sense of mind would see it as a valuable commodity. I wondered who I would have to deal with to get it back. A king? A warlord? A filthy Eldar?
I shivered. This thinking was getting me nowhere.
I had to consider my other options for getting home. These people were completely unsurprised with the concept of a flying ship. Even the old lady. I was actually hoping for a bit more dramatic reaction.

We weren’t running out of supplies, but it appeared it didn’t matter, as Sir Mortin was capable of creating water from his finger with a prayer to his heathen god. I don’t trust finger water. I was afraid he’d ask me to drink from the stream his finger made if we ever ran out.
I did, however, ask him how it was done.
“Why, with my faith to my goddess, of course!” He replied cheerfully.
“Your goddess helps her servants by…shooting water from their fingers?” I asked, perplexed. That was a silly power.
“Well,” he stammered, “everyone needs water.”
I nodded sagely.
I immediately set out thereafter to practice this art. “Oh great holy Emperor, grant me FINGER WATER!” But the only water I could create were my own bitter tears of frustration. Sir Mortin noticed my displeasure.
“Have you tried praying for it in the morning? It generally lasts all day after that,” he said.
“Why would that matter? Wouldn’t the Emperor grant his boon regardless of time of day?” I asked.
“Well…not here,” he replied, “that’s just how it is here.”
“But isn’t it morning SOMEWHERE on this planet RIGHT NOW?” I asked.
Sir Mortin stared at me, shrugged, and walked off. That’s how most of our conversations ended.

We came upon a travelling Eldar. Leo alerted us, and we went off into the brush. It was decided that we would capture this one and see if all Eldar were looking for me, or if the Winter Council were keeping it hushed up.
As he passed, Leo dropped out of the tree he was hiding and pounced on it. It went down in a heap. Leo dragged the Eldar off the path and into the brush with us. It was a male from the looks of it, dressed in clean traveling clothes that I noticed most travelers wore in this country, pants, boots, linen shirt, and a light leather jacket.
He was coming to.
“Hold him down, Leo and Mortin. This is MY job.”
Sir Mortin cocked an eyebrow at me. I cocked one back.
“Problem, Sir Knight? If we can’t find out what the average Eld-er Elf knows on this planet, I’ll have to hide whenever one of them shows up. And from what you’ve told me, the nearest city is filled with them.” I said.
“Well, I wouldn’t say filled,” he hedged, “but they have a relatively high population.”
“My point still stands.” I replied.

The Eldar opened his eyes as Leo grasped one of his arms roughly. Sir Mortin gingerly clamped his hand around the Eldar’s other arm. Belise stood off to the side with a bemused expression on her face. She seemed to take a great interest in my story, moreso than Leo, who I suspected believed my stories because it game him an excuse to kill people.
The Eldar’s eyes fluttered open, revealing pale blue orbs. He jerked, attempting to stand.
“Please, let me go,” he cried, fumbling with one hand, trying to reach his coin purse, “I’ll give you everything I have!”
“Tell me everything you know about this man,” I held up a newspaper and tossed it at his chest, “we heard rumor he was travelling this road. Why is Kyonin so interested in him?”
He stared at me, shocked, and glanced at the paper. He paled.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said shakily, “but if you let me go now, I won’t tell anybody!”
I realized he’d be tough to break. This was a well-travelled road, and we could ill afford another traveler happening upon us during interrogation.
I shot a look at Belise.
“Hand me a towel.”

She spared me a glance, confusion dancing across her face, and then turned, grabbed a wash rag from out of her saddle bag, and tossed it to me.
I slapped the cloth over the Eldar’s mouth.
“Emperor, in your grace, grant me FINGER WATER!” I shouted.
A steady stream of water shot out of my hand and splashed over the rag covering the Eldar’s face. He started gurgling and struggling. Sir Mortin and Leo’s grips didn’t falter. Sir Mortin’s eyes were wide.
“What, I’ve only used the love of the Emperor for the good of man. He’d approve. And I haven’t hit the xeno-er, elf yet.”
Sir Mortin grimaced. I guess torture wasn’t allowed by his prissy deity. How they manage to survive at all with the Eldar menace was beyond me.
I tore the rag from the Eldar’s mouth.
“Ready to talk treacherous Xenos?” I snarled.
“W-we were told to be on the lookout for the man who escaped the asylum. It’s an Elf thing, we protect our own! You wouldn’t even be able to collect the reward, human!”

He was sputtering, water dripping from his face. I looked at Sir Mortin.
“Well, what do you propose?” I asked.
“He isn’t evil, and technically has broken no laws. I’m afraid there’s nothing my goddess would allow.” he replied.
Belise spoke up.
“I do believe I can solve this problem,” she said, “and it won’t directly result in his death.”
She reached back into her saddle bags and pulled out a leather case, removing a scroll from it. She read it, and started chanting. There was a flash of green light, and the Eldar disappeared.
“What did you do?” I asked
“Sent him somewhere far, far away. He’s overdressed.” She replied.
Leo looked distinctly disappointed. I was sure he’d have a chance to kill lots of people in the city.
“We need to move, “ Leo said.
I nodded, and we got back on our horses and resumed riding.

This is as far as I've gotten since yesterday. I'll keep this updated every two to three pages.

A link to part 1 in the archive.


So people who haven't seen it can get caught up.

I'm really enjoying it. You probably should have started with this message first though. You posted the first part at 4 in the morning yesterday, so don't be discouraged that no one knows what this is about.
That's endlessly hilarious.

I wore a wide-brimmed hat, keeping my face in the shadows in case the Eldar had circulated pictures of me. I didn’t know if they could somehow identify me on sight, and I also didn’t want to give them much to identify me with. However, anyone could see the grin I had on my face.
My success with praying for Finger Water had my hopes up. If this world’s psykers never suffered the effects of the warp, and their prayers were always answered (as long as you prayed in the morning for it, of course-I STILL DON’T GET THIS), then the risks were minimal.
As we travelled, my companions discussed the world with me. Apparently, everyone interbreeds with everything. Orks exist here, but don’t reproduce via spores. My companions ogled at me when I asked that question. Half-orks existed, coupling from either rapes or from humans with strange fetishes.
My greatest questions were on the half-Eldar. According to Sir Mortin, most of the “elves” he had used his detect evil power on had souls. This was the first time he had ever met something like the Eldar he had fought. It cemented my opinion that this planet was used for eugenics. Having Eldar with souls was incredibly important, and it appeared that the experiment had been successful. They didn’t worry about Slaanesh here. They even raised them from the dead (!) successfully, which Slaanesh would NEVER allow.

So it appeared the Winter Court was the true eldar, and the real ruling class had no souls. The rest were just elves-not inherently antagonistic, somewhat manipulative, but also not outright hostile and uncaring. I had to think about this. True, they were Xenos, but if they could successfully interbreed, it presented another avenue for their extinction. There were more humans than elves, so over time, we could simply interbreed them out of existence.
Of course, the Winter Court frowned on it, so they would need to be dealt with. Which brought me to the humans. This planet was practically a breeding ground for Primarchs. In fact, Aroden, a seemingly dead “god” had all the hallmarks of one. United a planet, brought prosperity to the world, etc.
I wasn’t concerned that he’d “died”. There was no actual proof, and if you don’t see a Primarch die, it probably didn’t happen. And if he was part of the base stock for humans on this world, it would stand to reason why so many seemed drawn to adventure and excellence.
Then there were other races, which I couldn’t rightly explain except as failed eugenics experiments or ex-slaves.

I asked Belise how people knew what star metal was. Her answer excited me. It fell from the sky, and a long time ago a ship fell to Golarion. A very large ship. It gives me hope-I’m not much of a mechanic, but it would almost definitely have all the spare parts on it to make a small warp-travel capable ship.
I resolved if I couldn’t recover my ship, I would journey to Numeria. It wouldn’t be easy, but I was confident that with my knowledge it couldn’t be too terrible. Which brought me to my next goal-adaptation.
Adaptation is one of the most important skills an acolyte needs to survive. Whether it is learning local politics, knowing which plants would kill you, knowing how to find water, knowing how to use a gun or knife, these things were what decided whether you survived your first mission or not.
It’s why Hivers and death world vets were so good at it-they were used to adapting in hostile environs. Nobles were often the leaders, never had to learn the survival skills. They had to go out of their way to encounter survival situations, whereas Hivers were born into them. They died in droves.
I mused on these bits of information for a bit. There was plenty of heresy here to warrant exterminatus, but also incredible opportunity to exploit our enemies. The success of the Eldar eugenics experiment, but lack of change in Eldar tactics for thousands of years lent credence to my theory that the webways to a Craftworld had collapsed, leaving them stranded. If I could create a working ship and establish stable travel, my benefactor would almost certainly promote me to full Inquisitor.
I have also archived part 2 now.

Oh thanks. I'm embarassed to admit you're the only one who seems to find it entertaining.
Different anon here. I don't even like 40k and I still think this is better than 9/10ths of the shit that happens in Golarion.

It started as a joke background story, then as I wrote I realized it made everything about Golarion make sense.

It's like a giant scientific sandbox for space aliens. It explains the wildly varying cultures. Social experiment.

Plus Pathfinder has so many inconsistencies stemming from multiple writers and mishmashing thst the xenophobic protagonist can poke holes in them all day.
Another anon here. This is a hilariously awesome story you got here. I hope you continue!

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