With all the crafting done and enemies defeated, Scorch and I felt ready to take on whatever waited for us inside the bunker. Well…mostly me. Scorch was never really what I’d call overly trepidatious about forging ahead regardless of what may lie in wait. She was all gas no brakes, as they say. Me on the other hand? I needed time to process. Think through some potential plans. I was an Infiltrator, after all. Careful planning and consideration were kind of in the actual job description. Not that I had been doing a great job of it up to this point, but hey. It’s never too late to get your shit together. That’s what Uncle Paul used to say. Of course, Uncle Paul died from cirrhosis of the liver – so in retrospect, maybe he wasn’t the best source of inspiration.
Either way, I needed to start being a little more competent in the use of my class. I’d been able to skate by through some quick-thinking during fights – which, I guess is part of the whole Infiltrator skill set. But I’d never really sat and planned out what to do in various scenarios. If I was going to survive for much longer in this world, I was going to have to follow Dalton’s advice in Roadhouse and learn to expect the unexpected. I was going to have to become the man with the plan.
I say all that because that’s where my thoughts were drifting as we walked into the bunker hallway. But it all came slamming to a halt when we passed through the second set of doors and I received a notification from The System.
For once, I completely agreed with The System. The fact that the area had evidently been hidden from The System so completely that it wasn’t even aware of its existence was…troubling. I deliberated with myself for a few minutes. As worrying as the scenario was, though, it was equally as intriguing. Who or what had the ability to hide a place from the apparent creator of the world, if not the universe? I had to know. The mystery was too tantalizing to resist. So, Scorch and I pressed forward, ever the stalwart adventurers.
Beyond the inner doors, the bunker opened up into a large mezzanine that appeared to be almost like a museum of sorts. The walls were lined with displays – the first we came to was a model of a small solar system unlike any I’d ever seen. There were two suns orbiting one another and around those were two moonless planets which were also orbiting one another as they circled a wide arc around the stars. As we approached, a disembodied voice spoke and the display came to life.
“The Nephil home world, Lambent-1, was part of a binary star system in quadrant 712 of the Vergex galaxy,” the deep, vaguely feminine voice announced. “Our home shared an orbit with its sister planet, Lambent-2 in circumbinary orbit of our suns. The worlds were tidally locked to one another, circling a shared barycenter. The dual suns, combined with their light’s reflection off one planet to the other made night a relatively rare occurrence for both planets. At least on what we called ‘the interior continents’.”
The display directed us to move on to the next alcove in the wall, which was a sort of diorama. Oddly, however, the diorama did not appear to be made of figurines and stick buildings. It looked for all the world as if we were looking down through a portal in time to see what the Lambent planets actually looked like as they cycled through each age, in turn.
“The scarcity of darkness on the twin planets created the perfect habitat for life to flourish. Whereas there are several species known throughout the cosmos to be fairly ubiquitous – humans, orcs, elves, and others – the species on Lambent 1 and Lambent 2 were unique to their worlds. Scientists hypothesize that the Nephil and Seraph races evolved in ways that only the pressures of our specific solar system could produce, hence our relative scarcity among the star-faring species.
Night was common on the exterior continents, however, and darkness more persistent. So a race familiar throughout the galaxy evolved on those outer edges of Lambent 2.
Demons.
The demonic population native to the Seraph world referred to themselves as the ‘Dormu’ race. Despite popular misconceptions, the demonic races are not inherently malevolent and this certainly held true for the Dormu. Their astronomers and philosophers and scientists formed the very core of their society.
The Dormu and Seraph remained unaware of one another’s existence for millennia, each evolving in isolation. This separation persisted until the Dormu braved the turbulent twilight seas to circumnavigate the globe in the early-middle centuries of the 10th millennium.”
Again, we were directed to move on to the next display. This one was a digital screen depicting the early contact between the Nephil and Seraph races. The Nephil were giants standing at least a dozen feet tall. They were broad and muscular people with dark skin and ornate trappings that reflected the light in every direction. The Seraph looked more or less like the angels I was familiar with from Earth – their skin was more of a bronze tone, their hair was light blonde, and large, white-feathered wings sprouted from their backs. They were quite a bit shorter than the Nephil, as one might imagine, and so they would often hover in the air at eye level with their Nephil counterparts.
“By then, however, the Seraph race had already reached across the void between worlds to make contact with the people of Lambent 1. Long had the Nephil and Seraph known of one another. Our own astronomers spotted the Seraph cities sometime in the late 9th millennium using telescopes and various long-range detection methods. The Seraph had taken slightly longer to recognize our existence, but once they discovered us, they quickly devised means of transporting themselves to our world. We received them as honored guests.”
The scene on the projector screen changed, showing the two groups working together in various environments.
“They shared their technology with us. We taught them some of the magicks we had developed. We shared food and culture and eventually, a pact was made. Our two societies became one. For a time.
But everything changed when the Dormu discovered us.”
“Is this what a world actually looks like?” Scorch asked, as the video on the screen zoomed out from Lambent 1, panned over to Lambent 2 and zoomed in to the Seraph home world.
“Yeah, if you get far enough away from it to get this kind of perspective, this is generally what they look like.”
“So this is what the birds see?”
“Not quite,” I chuckled. “You have to fly much higher than a bird to get this kind of view.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Shh. They’re explaining the Dormu part.”
“The Seraph were beings of light, as were we. Our communion and partnership felt natural. Our first interaction with the Dormu was…less intuitive. Both we and the Seraph experienced darkness only during the eclipse. Our interpretations of those events were, however, drastically dissimilar. We saw the darkness as having deep spiritual resonance. The eclipse was, to us, a time of reflection upon the cycle of life and death. We held festivals for remembrance of the deceased followed by a feast in celebration of the living. The Seraph held different views.
“The darkness was anathema to their entire way of life. Their bodies used a form of symbiotic photosynthesis for energy. To the Seraph, the darkness was a time of deep fear and potential deprivation of nutrients. It was a time of cosmically forced fasting. So perhaps it is unsurprising that they evolved with an intense fear and distaste for the night. Hence, their immediate distrust of the Dormu.
“The Dormu were not only completely unbothered by the night, they actually reveled in the darkness. They were a nocturnal race, having evolved in the depths of Lambent 2. Their original habitat was close to the planet’s core, where the temperatures were high and the darkness was complete. It was not until they began to migrate toward the upper layers of the planet’s crust that they even encountered the concept of light and started evolving eyes. Thus, the visual prowess of the Dormu demons is weak, even when compared to other demonic races.
“The enmity between the Dormu and Seraph was mutual and immediate. We sought to make peace between them. We brokered treaties and played the intermediary for centuries. However, the two races could not coexist and soon the Nephil could no longer resist the tides of war.”
Once more, we were directed to another exhibit. This time, we were looking at a model of the city we had been exploring only hours ago. Except, in the exhibit, the city was bustling with life and was several orders of magnitude larger. It was also not nestled into a mountain. It was, I assumed, on Lambent 1…which raised all sorts of questions. I hoped the display would answer them.
Small explosions began to reverberate throughout the exhibit. One, then a few, then many. Fires ravaged the beautiful, pristine skyscrapers of the Nephil. Seraph flew overhead, casting spells and dropping alchemical agents on the city. The Dormu, with their batlike wings, flew in to intercept their angel-like enemies.
“It was precisely due to our perceived neutrality that the Seraph turned against us. They used our eclipse celebrations as evidence of our collusion and partiality toward the Dormu. Their attack came unprovoked, with no warning. Our greatest city was hit first and we took heavy losses. Millions were injured. Hundreds of thousands lost their lives.”
A large magic circle formed beneath two city blocks – the ones that were now embedded into the mountainside, I realized. A wall of magic rose up around the circumference of the spell and the buildings within those city blocks disappeared completely from view.
“Soon, the destruction of both worlds became inevitable as the Seraph devised a weapon of terrible power. They used it on their own world, first. We watched in horror as millions of lives – Dormu and Seraph alike – were extinguished in an instant. The entire world was on fire. When the Seraph began building a fleet of ships similar to the one that brought them to our world, we knew that it was only a matter of time before the same weapon was used against us. So, we did the only thing we knew to do: we had our strongest magicians and sorcerers teleport sections of our major cities to other worlds. We had a small list of planets in mind, ones our astronomers had discovered in recent years as our technology advanced. We had no way to know if the teleportation would work, or if the worlds were even habitable. For the sake of our race, however, we were willing to make such sacrifices.
“This museum is a relic of the first of those teleported city centers. Unfortunately, that is as far as our records extend. We do not know what became of our home world after we were teleported to this place. We hope you have enjoyed this presentation.”
The exhibit turned dark and then the entire thing slid sideways into the abutting wall, revealing a large metal door that had been hidden behind the exhibit. Scorch and I looked at each other and walked up to the door. With a whoosh, it opened of its own accord. We stepped inside.
“Ah,” a weathered, ancient sounding voice called from inside the empty room. “Visitors, at last. Come, come.”
Scorch and I approached, slowly. I didn’t get a bad vibe from the man’s voice, but I consulted Environmental Mapping just to be sure. His icon was gray. Neutral. As we walked into the room, I squinted a bit. It was too brightly lit, like someone had taken every lamp at Yankee Stadium, put them in one 50×50 room, and flipped the power switch. A tall, dark man stood in the middle of the otherwise empty room.
“I am Orabi, Lawgiver of the Nephil peoples. Or I was, when there were Nephil left to govern.”
“My name is Rocky. This is Scorch,” I said, gesturing to the stoat poking up from the front of my duster. “What happened to the Nephil, here? We watched the presentations in the museum out there, but it never said.”
“We…expired,” Orabi said, sadly. “There were perhaps two thousand of us when we arrived in this place. We built up the town as best we could, but our population could not sustain itself. Our people were unable to conceive, in this place. Our best guess is a lack of sunlight caused our reproductive biology to malfunction.”
“I’m sorry about that. Are you the last?”
“After a fashion. I am not exactly alive, in the way that you mean it. I am a projection of Orabi. His aura retained through magic and technology to ensure that one day, the memory of us might be delivered into the hands of someone who could preserve our legacy.”
“Oh, no,” I said, getting that sinking feeling again.
“I’m afraid I must,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “I know it is much to ask, but you are the first soul to find us here in literal ages.”
I groaned.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Accept a gift and use it as you see fit.”
“That’s it? I’m going to carry on your legacy by accepting a gift?” I paused, suspiciously. “What kind of gift?”
Orabi pulled out a scroll and passed it over to me. I opened it, studied it for a moment, then realized what it was – a blueprint for some kind of rifle.
“The most powerful weapon my people ever devised. I regret that we were not able to use it to defend ourselves in the war, as it was never actually built. The specifications are all correct and the weapon should work in theory…but it will be up to you to construct it.”
I wondered if Therin might be able to help with turning this thing into a reality. The most powerful weapon of a forgotten race of people could be just the ace I needed. I nodded and put the scroll into the interior pocket of my jacket, rather than my inventory. I didn’t know why, but the idea of putting it into inventory kind of repulsed me in that moment.
“Alright. You can count on me,” I said. “If this thing can be built, I’ll figure out how to do it.”
Orabi smiled gratefully and bowed his head.
“Then my interminable wait is finally over. I thank you. One last request, from an old spirit who is about to expire…the weapon is yours to do with what you will. Good or evil, it is your choice. I would request that you try to do more good with it than evil. But if you find that it is the other way around, that is fine, too. The only thing that matters is that the memory of us lives on in your hands…”
Orabi’s voice faded out toward the end and he flickered out of sight like an old television powering down. I absently scratched the top of Scorch’s head as I considered the weapon. We stood there like that for a few moments until Scorch broke the silence.
“I’m hungry.”
I laughed.
“Of course you are.”