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….”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                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!