Hiking in a lightning storm is good for the constitution. And the sinuses. And proving conductivity. And sterility. Among other things.
So there we were, staring at the deck of the improbably named Nox Nox pondering the meaning of ritualistic magical summoning circles when Arden quipped that his radio was squawking with some sort of non-random pattern. Thusly we stopped our debate about the nature magical machinations and Important Things I Can’t Perceive and peered out of our communal gathering hole to examine the horizon. There, off in the distance was a mountain range. As we watched clouds appeared to be gathering with the occasional strobe effect of lightning. The coincidence of a freak storm and notable patterns across the radio spectrum proved too strong a lure.
This is how we found ourselves in the EoMSS (Empire of Man Star Ship) ‘Deathtrap Vomit Bucket’ flying in the midst of a thunderstorm looking for a mountain clearing. Well, “flying” to a certain definition of the word. More like failing to fall apart and crash at the moment as we move in a particular direction generally whilst praying not to die.
About what you would expect riding in a 1000-year-old craft.
Luckily, we survived this harrowing peril by landing in an oddly perfectly shaped clearing near the tree line free of boulders. After a few moments of investigation, we discovered that the clearing was caused by a fungal growth. He mentioned something odd about spirits here, but since none of the rest of us can see his visions we moved on (in spite of my concerns about hiking during a lightning storm).
We managed to survive that as well, but it was a far closer thing than the shuttle ride. Most of the party nearly took lightning strikes. But that wasn’t the climax. Oh no. We achieved the summit whereupon a Heisenbug-Singularity spontaneously formed allowing some sort of exo-fighter craft to slam into the summit. Luckily the pilot had enough time to activate his crash gel, resulting in his survival in spite of the total loss of his craft.
I was able to survive this by an interesting reflex which I wasn’t aware of while the rest of the team dove for cover. There followed yet another oddity; as Gabriel was fishing out Commander Spaceman, four ‘Bandersnatch’s’ (tigers with odd properties) felt the need to attack us.
This resulted in a general melee, with the oddity of fungal spores being exuded by said tigers whenever they were hit (this bit will be important later). Short of the long, I nearly lost my leg to Bandersnatch toxin and we learned a few things about Spaceman Tom, namely that he could understand us although we couldn’t understand him. Eventually Gabriel was able to start up a conversation due to his invaluable gift with tongues. This was how we found out that he was from something called the Runic Empire – apparently a High Technology space faring society that has learned to leverage magic by voice. I Really need to understand how this whole magic thing works.
Thereby we decided sitting on a crater on a mountaintop seemed unproductive so we headed back to the ‘Impending Death By Gravity’ shuttle.
We made it back to the clearing only to discover that the fungus was rapidly trying to eat our un-space worthy spacecraft. It also was commanding Wooz… Woozes? Woozi? Gerwozenshaftenkampf? (whatever you call a herd of animated tree monsters) to smash everything. Thus began an Italian Job of hijinks and panic as we played dodge limb distract while Thorne worm-holed me into the shuttle (how! Damnit, how?!) in order to kick start the damned POS with a hand-crank and a prayer.
Needless to say we survived assault by sentient fungus and fled back to the Basicilla.
We spent the rest of the evening drinking tea from hopefully potable water, talking with whatshisname from the Runic Empire, and trying to come up with a plan around what to do next. Two things; one we have to remove this curse from the non-space worthy EoMSS ‘Ohmygodweregonnadie!’ and what can be done with this usb keystick we found in the statue.
Also! I’m going to ask Khiron if he can cobble together a working computer out of spare shuttle bits to see what happens if we let the ‘virus’ take over a stand-alone system. What’s the worse that could happen? Never mind. Thorne can make wormholes with magic and I can stand in the middle of a shuttle crash. I probably shouldn’t tempt the Demon Murphy with such musings.