Category: Person

#Lore24 – Entry #129 – Muckenmyre Month #8 – Ashleyra the Witch of the Swamp

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

In my mess of thoughts concerning my future that night, as dawn approached, I became aware of a subtle shift in the air outside.  From my window, in the faint light of the lanterns hanging along the Span, I could see that not a soul moved at this hour, and that a fog was coming in, spreading rapidly from the north, from the depths of the Muckenmyre itself.  I knew immediately that this was not natural, could feel the magic in the air as the gray enveloped the town.  Immediately on alert, I eased silently from my bed to peer more closely at the gathering fog.  To my surprise, I heard movement in the house; the mayor was already awake, and in moments, he stepped lightly through the front room and out the door, dressed for the day, it seemed, and headed toward the Span. 

Curious by virtue of my inquisitor’s nature, immediately suspicious of a plot of some kind, I waited until the mayor had neared the Span and slipped out of my window, my bare feet silent upon the slightly muddy stones.  Keeping low and using the fog to my advantage, I hurried to follow the mayor, easily tracking his path.  Spotting the watch towers as I cleared the row of houses, I could see the night watch still in place, none of them seemingly aware that the fog wasn’t natural, none more alert of a possible attack. 

As I came upon the Span, I saw movement upon the river, a single flatboat coming down the side closer to the far end of the Span.  The fog had obscured it to some extent, but I could make out a single figure upon it, wearing an earthy-colored cloak that obscured their features.  As they neared a small dock, I saw something else move over the bundles and bags that filled the boat, a reddish-colored muskrat, running excitedly back and forth.  I likewise spotted the mayor and three others coming down the steps, lanterns in hand, two assistants from the general store, and the woman I recognized as the town’s herbalist, though I had yet to introduce myself to her. 

I continued silently and quickly through the fog-shrouded street along the Span, picking up snippets of conversation, thought he fog had a muffling effect, and I could make out nothing of what was said.  As I rounded the far end of the Span and came up behind some crates that were stacked near the platform at the top of the stairs leading from the dock, I could finally hear the mayor and the herbalist speaking softly, an unfamiliar, female voice answering.  It seemed they were discussing trade of some kind. I peered around the crates, watching as the assistants unloaded the flatboat, though my eyes were drawn to the newcomer.  Curiously I could not see her face, even in the lantern light, though I saw the faint, reddish glow coming from her eyes, the tips of curling horns poking from her hood, and the gentle swaying of a pointed tail around her legs.  A mazoku, the first I had seen since my arrival in Grimbridge.

As the last of the cargo was removed from the boat, I noticed the muskrat again, having climbed atop some of the bags that had been brought onto the docks, its eyes suddenly focusing upon me, its head cocking curiously to one side.  A heartbeat later the conversation had stopped, and I felt the mazoku’s eyes fall upon me, and then she called out to me. 

“Fear not, newcomer; I was aware of your arrival from the moment you first came to these shores.  If you come with no ill-intent, then please, join us, for I would quite like to meet one who has survived such an ordeal, one from the far Empire.”

My fur bristled at having been spotted; I knew then that the muskrat was not natural, and would momentarily discover it was a familiar, and the stranger was known as Ashleyr, the Witch of the Muckenmyre.  I did not hesitate once I had been spotted, for I sensed no danger, and made my way down the steps.  I bowed in deferential greeting, and silent apology, to those gathered here, aware that the assistants had began loading other bags and crates upon the boat.  The mayor made introductions, to the herbalist, an older half-elven woman named Cardiane, and even to the muskrat, Thornton, who was now nibbling on some sweet treat he’d gotten from somewhere.

Ashleyr extended her hand, and once I had taken it, she held to it with remarkable strength, for she was shorter and lighter of build than me, turning it so that she could see my slave brand.  Without need of being told, I showed her the one on my other forearm; she took a few moments to examine them, running her fingers over them, seemingly tracing their lines, then nodded and thanked me; I had steeled myself, though, my training preparing me to resist any magic that may be placed upon me, though none came. 

I still could not make out the details of her face but for her faintly glowing eyes, even this close.

She told me that she came to town at least once every couple of months, trading mostly herbs, potions, and other rare materials from the depths of the swamp in return for things she needed, though preferred early-morning visits, when fewer eyes would be upon her, for not everyone took well to her kind, especially not a witch such as she.  I inquired as to whether she was associated with the Witches of the Ways, for I had encountered them in my homeland.  I could hear her smile as she spoke, confirming that she was, though she was far more aloof than her sisters, for her home was the heart of the swamp itself, and the place of power that stood there.  I did not inquire further about this, for it did not seem to be my place to do so.

Our conversation was short, ending once her boat had been filled.  She expressed a desire to speak with me at some length in the future but did not wish to linger longer than necessary.  She announced that I was welcome in the swamp, but that I should not take that to mean I should not be wary of its many dangers.  She then bid farewell to the mayor, the herbalist, and myself and made her way back upon the flatboat, her familiar hurrying to follow.  As she departed back up the slow-moving river, the fog followed her, disappearing as suddenly as it had come.

Offering another apology to the mayor for my actions, though I caught myself before I suggested he punish me, for I knew by now that he would tolerate no such talk, I instead offered my help in carrying the goods Ashleyr had brought as my way of making amends.  This he seemed to accept without complaint, and so I made myself useful.  I am no stranger to hard labor, so carrying these bundles and boxes was no trouble, and I daresay that I was better at it than even his store workers.  If nothing else, it was a gauge of how well I had recovered, and thankfully, it seemed, I was very nearly fully healed.

As we returned to his home for another hour or two of sleep before the day’s work began, I expressed my interest in finding some kind of work within the town, as a way to repay the hospitality they had shown me, and to start earning my way properly, given that I was no longer anyone’s property.  Saying such a thing still felt entirely wrong, and internally I was feeling as though I had willfully committed some great act of betrayal to my Emperor, but what choice did I have?  Surely his kindness had its limits, and I would not be wise to overstay my welcome so far from home. 

#Lore24 – Entry #125 – Muckenmyre Month #4 – Mayor Pleasence

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I would find out after my awakening the following morning that I had been in the small room for a handful of days, that it was a bed in the town mayor’s home that I inhabited.  Throughout my recovery, Satella dutifully tended to me as my strength slowly returned.  During my stubborn insistence upon trying to care for myself, she was kind enough to let me try, and only stepped in once it was clear that I was still too weak to do more than walk about the room a time or two.  My wounds were healing cleanly, in spite of several places that had become infected, and now that my bones were set properly, with the aid of her goddess, I could move my body again.  Not normally, certainly, but that would return in time as I grew steadily stronger.

It was on the third day, late in the evening as the sun set, that I would finally meet the town mayor, Dannold Pleasence.  Satella prepared dinner as I continued the exercises that had once been second nature, but now seemed so exhausting, when the mayor returned.  As I would learn, he had been forced to leave town the day I had been brought in on some business to the north and had made the quick decision to allow Satella to use his home for my care.  I listened as he spoke quietly to Satella about my condition, could smell the strong odor of the swamp upon him as his sweaty scent drifted through the door. 

Much clearer of thought now that I had had time to process my situation, I wasted no more time and exited my room.  My immediate impression of the mayor was that he was something of a dour man, his shaven head bearing a few battle scars, one in particular which had remained after a strike had nearly taken his left eye, from the crown of his head to his jaw, his skin sun-worn and rough from age and a hard life.  He was in his middle years, but still had the strong body of a warrior and a laborer, and I saw his two-handed sword leaning in its scabbard by the outer door of the home. 

As he turned to address me, I immediately dropped to my knees and prostrated myself before him, begging his forgiveness at having imposed myself upon him in such a way, to express my sincere sorrow that a lowly slave such as myself had inconvenienced him so, and to thank him profusely for his kindness and generosity.  He was silent as I finished my outburst, but I dared not look up for fear of angering him, though I smelled a subtle change in his scent that told me he was more confused than anything, perhaps even embarrassed.  I got the impression he had looked to Satella for guidance in how to respond, but I could not say what her look had been.  I had done the same to her once I was strong enough, as was proper of a slave, but she had taken it in stride, insisting that it was no trouble, and for me not to worry myself over such things anymore.

After a long, awkward pause, the mayor finally managed to respond.  “That’s quite enough of that, my dear,” he said.  “You’re not in the Empire anymore, and I’ll not have that kind of behavior in my home, my town.”  As he approached, I expected him to kick me, or perhaps yank my hair so that he could deliver a firm slap to my face.  Instead, he guided me to my feet and brought me to the table in the dining area, even pulled the chair out and helped me to sit.  I was a little taken aback by this, to say the least, being unaccustomed to such treatment. 

Put somewhat off balance by this, my inquisitor’s instincts telling me to tread carefully for fear of a trap of some kind, I answered his questions honestly as Satella served our dinner, recounting why I had been aboard the doomed ship and what I recalled of my journey to Grimbridge.  He did not pry into my past much at all, didn’t even ask me as to the nature of my spiked collar and cuffs.  He knew I was a slave of course, but did not recognize the mark of the Stellae Illustris upon it; Satella had not mentioned it either, so perhaps they had no knowledge of what it meant?  He honestly seemed more concerned over the state of my body.  I assured him that Satella’s healing had worked well, and it was simply a matter of time before I was back to normal, but his concerns were of my old scars, specifically my slave brands, for they are upon both arms, and surrounded by deeper scarring. 

My brands are not unique, certainly, but are rarer amongst the kerryn slaves given my nature as not only a slave trainer buy as an inquisitor.  Most slaves will receive a magical brand upon the underside of their forearm marking them as property, showing who owns them at but a glance, given to them with little pain.  Mine were done not with magic, but heated metal, burning my owner’s insignia upon my flesh.  Some owners will still brand their slaves thusly if they have a taste for the sadistic.  I’ve had many owners in my life, and each time requires the old brands to be removed by peeling away the flesh, regrowing it anew through magical healing, and then reapplying the brand.  I hesitated to share this information, but for whatever reason, perhaps it was the compassion I felt from both he and Satella, I revealed the exact process, if not what it meant.  Satella was not fazed by this revelation, though Mayor Pleasence was…horrified.  My reassurances that such branding was not common did little to cure his unease, and I apologized immediately for upsetting him so; he barely touched his dinner after that, though he insisted that I had done nothing wrong.

He also insisted that an apology wasn’t needed, and that I wouldn’t need to worry about such treatment again.  When I inquired as to why, he stated that winter was upon them, and that the seas would be dangerous to traverse, even this far south.  Even if I wanted to return to the Empire, which, at the time, I certainly did, for it was my duty to serve the Emperor, may He live forever, I could not do so for several months, and it was his intention to teach me that kerryns were not slaves on this side of the world, whatever I may think of myself.

I could hardly believe it at that moment.  Kerryns free?  Not enslaved, as was proper?  How could that even be possible?  How could we be trusted with such freedom?  Surely there must be some kind of restrictions placed upon us? 

It made little sense to me.  Seemed absolutely reckless, dangerous even. 

Mayor Pleasence told me then that he would show me around town himself the following morning if Satella gave him the okay to do so.  She had no objections, had even picked out some clothing that would be more appropriate for me to wear.

My introduction to this strange new land would come on the morrow, for better or for worse. 

After dinner, when we had retired for the night, I held my collar again, ran my fingers over the rust-dulled spikes and thought of the Emperor, of home, of my life leading up to that fateful voyage to the Dragon Isles.  I had no true friends; slave trainers such as myself had no kerryns who would willingly associate with us, save those who were made to study under us, and only then in for the hope of gaining some form of power over our lesser slave-kin, and we were but tools for our masters to use. None in the Inquisition would call me friend; ally, perhaps, but certainly not friend. 

For the first time I began to have thoughts that would be considered treasonous for a Stellae Illustris, no, blasphemous, perhaps would be more accurate.  Who was the Emperor if not our god, and how could we possibly consider a life without being in his service?  How could a kerryn consider a life lived…free?

I did not sleep that night, did not realize that I had been so deep in thought until the first rays of the sun began to come through the window, the scent of early rain on the warm breeze that wafted through. 

#Lore24 – Entry #124 – Muckenmyre Month #3 – The Yurisayan Priestess

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

It took me a few moments in my confusion to register all of the details of the woman who had entered the room.  Very unbecoming of an Inquisitor, perhaps, but she had caught me at an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment.  I recognized the holy symbol that dangled from the leather collar about her neck immediately once I had come to some semblance of my senses, that of the Lady Yurisaya, worn as one who had dedicated themselves to the Dark Lady’s service would.  She was a shapely human woman, shorter than myself, though most humans are, her brown hair done up in a pair of tight buns atop her head, her eyes almond-shaped and a deep brown.  She wore a revealing black leather dress, somehow managing to win the battle against gravity by virtue of the size of the woman’s breasts and the strap that was secured above them, high slits in the dress revealing her muscular thighs.  She wore long leather gloves and thigh-length high heels, all in black, her boots marred only by signs of having traversed dirty streets.  Her scent was of some floral soap, sweat, leather, and something more familiar, that of blood.

I was familiar with the followers of Yurisaya, but her style of dress was unfamiliar, and though expectedly revealing, not like that of the priestesses seen throughout the Empire.  She bowed in greeting, her voice soft, compassionate as she introduced herself as Satella Schnyder.  I gave my name in turn, dipping my head as low as possible, keenly noting the lack of my collar, reverting back to the meek, deferential tone as was expected for a kerryn slave.  She came to the bedside, knelt in front of me and continued to smile up at me, taking my hand in her own as she began a prayer. 

Once her prayer had ended, she rose, still holding my hand, and sat beside me, looking at once sad and hopeful.  She began our conversation rather casually, expressing that she was pleased that she had arrived in Grimbridge in time to offer her aid to me, that Yurisaya herself had guided her to me to be my caregiver.  I couldn’t begin to understand why; what did the gods care about kerryn slaves?  We were forsaken, were we not, following our attempt to destroy the world by bringing demons upon it? 

She then told me that in order to heal my bones properly, we would be forced to break them again, that she was certain I had regained enough strength to handle the procedure without further complications, and that it would have to be performed soon.  I again meekly replied in the affirmative, for my slave’s mind had already assumed that this woman was to be my new owner, that she would have a new collar ready once I was fully recovered.  I won’t deny that a part of me absolutely cried out for the reassurance of a collar about my neck, of a hand holding my leash.  I would explain to her at a more appropriate time where my loyalties were, of course, and that perhaps there would be a reward for my return to the Emperor’s service, for surely she would not be interested in a slave such as myself.

But, for the time being, she asked if I was prepared for what must come, and I assured her that I was; I would not reveal that I could likely have healed myself just yet, for I had too little information about my situation, and could not know how she would react to a kerryn possessing magic.  Coaxing the collar from my hand before placing it back upon the nightstand, she had me stretch out upon the bed and began probing my partially healed bones with the touch of an expert healer.  Then, using techniques with which I am intimately familiar, she broke them again.  The agony was like a rush of fresh air, my brain finally coming free of the stupor that had consumed it upon my awakening.  I did not scream as my partially knit bones were once again shattered, barely even grunted; what were a few broken bones in the face of the tortures I had endured in my life?  Even the intense burning sensation of the goddess’s healing, known to be unpleasant to those not of the faith, was almost pleasurable now that my senses had recovered.

I could tell I had been weakened significantly by my ordeal, for the healing left me tired and on the verge of unconsciousness.  I barely remembered Satella leaving my side, if only for a few minutes, until she was suddenly there again, a fresh tray of food in hand.  She fed me, for I was suddenly too weak to do so myself, almost as if she were tending to a sick child.  Before she left me to rest, she returned my broken collar to my hands, clasping them around its tarnished form before tucking me in and leaving the room. 

I had only begun to ponder what strange fate I had been dealt when slumber came crashing upon me.  Though I had been distraught, the feel of my collar in my hands was nonetheless a welcome comfort.  I don’t recall having suffered any more nightmares while I slept, at least this time.

#Lore24 – Entry #123 – Muckenmyre Month #2 – Awakening Upon an Unfamiliar Bed

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I have vague impressions of the times following the storms.  The seas were peaceful once more, perhaps within minutes following the sinking of our fleet.  I can recall the sunset as I lay upon the piece of shattered wreckage, too incoherent to attempt to free myself from the rigging.  I could tell I had many broken bones, that I still bled.  Pain is a constant companion for one such as I, and though I can deal with it far better than most, even I can become overwhelmed if it is great enough.

My next memory is perhaps of the following morning, or perhaps it was a day or more later; regardless, it is of the ship approaching, turning alongside the wreckage.  Ghostly images then, of the sailors cutting me free, hauling my shattered body aboard their ship.  I cannot remember their colors, only vague images.  I think I had began to hallucinate, perhaps I even had a fever as my body stubbornly refused to submit.

As they cared for me the best they could, perhaps only in the hopes of giving such a pitiful creature as merciful ending as they could, I dreamed.  Strange visions, likely caused by the fever that ravaged me, or perhaps it was the souls of those who were lost alongside me, coming back to try and draw me into the void alongside them. 

Perhaps the tormented screams I heard were my own; I had not screamed from inflicted physical pain in decades, so perhaps this was purely my own internal suffering given voice by the fever?  I have a vague remembrance of one sailor’s face, pale and terrified as he backed away from me.  What demons did I release during my lapse in control?  Perhaps I will never know.

It was sometime after this that I awoke on land, in an unfamiliar bed, in a strange room.  It was the morning sun beaming through the window that awoke me, the sound of distant thunder filling my ears, normal thunder, not that of the Dragons’ Fury.  Beneath the heavy aroma of healing poultices, I could smell odd scents, people I didn’t know, a land I had never been to before, the thick, sickening odor of the swamps.  Beyond the small room, I could hear the din of a busy town, the chatter of its people as they went about their lives.

For a wonder, I was not restrained, and I had survived the fever, though some of the visions within my mind will forever remain burned into my memory.  For a wonder, I was not bound, aside from the bandages that were wrapped around my various wounds.  I could immediately feel the pain in my bones, knew immediately that some had begun to knit crookedly. 

I then realized that I was naked.  Not for lack of clothes, for I had been covered in a simple linen smock that smelled faintly of dust and age.  No, someone had removed my collar and cuffs, the spiked steel that marked me as not only a slave but a trainer of slaves, the metal that had been sealed upon my body for over a century, perhaps never to be removed.  As I breathed faster and became more aware of the place I found myself, I realized that I could not feel their reassuring weight, could not feel the internal spikes that constantly pricked and pinched at my flesh, their reassuring touch that signified that I was property of the Inquisition, of the Emperor’s most loyal Stellae Illustris.  Perhaps in another few decades I may have even earned the privilege of wearing a mythril version of them, that I would have become a full-fledged slave knight as a reward for my loyalty. 

To my horror, as I forced myself to rise from the bed, my body protesting with fresh pain that sharpened my senses, though I made not a sound, I saw my cuffs and my collar sitting on the nightstand by the bed, the metal ravaged by rust and sea salt, their once welded clasps broken and newly melted in order to remove them.  Panic filled me, for it was not allowed that a slave of my position ever allow their collar and other adornments to show such lack of care.  I reached simultaneously for my collar and my neck, wincing as the broken arm I extended to the collar refused to move as I had intended it to, the fingers of my other hand finding my throat, bare but for the bandages. 

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed then, gritting my teeth against the pain of a shattered femur and broken ribs and picked up the spiked collar once I could finally reach it.  My tail twitched anxiously as I stared at the broken, rusted steel, my mind struggling to come up with some way that I could fix it, some way that I could atone for the offense of going uncollared, that I would dare disrespect my Emperor in such a way.

That was when I heard the sound of heels crossing the wooden floor, then that door opened, revealing a human woman, wearing a most curious smile upon her face.  It would be some time before I understood what her smile indicated.  At that moment, I was simply too distraught over the loss of my adornments to process matters.

I may have even had tears in my eyes.

#Lore24 – Entry #122 – Muckenmyre Month #1 – Shipwrecked off the Dragon Isles

From the journal of Takara, Slave Inquisitor of the Stellae Illustris.

I have little memory of the Dragon Isles; we really weren’t there that long, just a few foggy images of rocky islands in the distance.  I was there to assist the Emperor’s Inquisition as they tracked the remnants of a group tied to the Res’Teringal rebellion, the last of those who would dare oppose his rightful rule, driven from their hiding place after several months of searching.  The remnant rebels had taken up with a pirate fleet, hoping to flee the emperor’s grasp, perhaps to live long enough to mount another attempt to buck the control of the Empire.  Once our chase fleet had caught up with them, they made straight for the Dragon Isles.  We knew they were bound for Cypress Isle at the tip of the island chain, but they were desperate. 

They turned toward the inner islands. 

They brought the storms…the Dragons’ Fury.

These storms were…like nothing I had ever witnessed in my life.  No storm within the many regions of the Empire that I have traversed in my two centuries of life were anything close to the fury that came from those islands, rolling down from the skies to the north like a gray and black wall of roiling death.  Our fleet was doomed the moment Inquisitor Dama decided to follow the pirates closer in.  I don’t know if they made it out; we lost sight of them within moments as the seas began to surge, lightning struck all about, and hail slammed into us.  The thunder…it really was like the roar of dragons.  That is the only way I can describe it…what else could sound so terrifying, even to someone like me, than a roar from a legendary dragon?

We tried to turn away, but it was far too late for us.  Our decision to follow the rebels toward the inner islands had sealed our doom.  Our ships were shattered in minutes.  I had already made my peace with my death, to whatever fate my soul would face.  My life had been nothing but suffering, either inflicted upon me, or with myself inflicting it upon others.  It was all for the Emperor of course, may He live forever, and I certainly would change nothing that I had done in his name…but to die so quickly…I certainly could never have imagined such a…merciful end.  It was not an ending for someone who had been responsible for causing so much pain to others, especially those of my own kind.  Most of my brother and sister slaves certainly did not deserve what I did to them, but I am a loyal slave to my great Emperor, and it is his will that I channeled; I was his vessel, his voice to those who could not understand it.

I felt the cold of the virulent sea, felt the electric charge in the air and water from the lightning as I was tossed around, felt my bones break from the impact of the hailstones, from my body slamming into the broken hull as it was tossed from one massive wave to the next.  Somehow I became entangled with the rigging or some netting, became stuck fast to a portion of one of the broken ships.  In my last moments of consciousness, I was certain that I would be sinking below the waves, would become one with the sweet, cold, void that lay below.

My expectations were perhaps too high.

My hopes for death were premature.

For I am still here.

#Lore 24 – Entry #121 – Sci-Fi Month II #30 – Report: Main Computer System Anomalies and Quirks

From the Official Report of Chiasa Charity Chiasakaniki, Systems Analyst and Programmer, IT Division, assigned UEF-04, Maharani Morgiana, addressed to Captain Silvercask, CSO Scharaiden, and IT Director Arihik Hukkedisen.  Data retrieved from copier cache moments before it was cleared.

I’ve been advised by Director Hukkedisen to compile and send this handwritten, hardcopy report based on the last system diagnostic I performed on the Morgiana’s main computer system.  It is my opinion, and the Director concurs, that there are some unusual anomalies within the server core that deserve our attention.  Based upon the previous system analyses performed prior to our launch from Aphelion Station, I believe there is someone accessing protected files without authorization, fairly regularly, and may be transmitting this data alongside our regular check-ins with command back at the station. 

The data in the attached diagnostic reports shows multiple anomalous records of file access, anything from news reports to personal logs to encrypted ship’s logs and records from the command level.  It appears that anything stored on the computer core, and likely anything else that may come into contact with it, is vulnerable to these intrusions.  I would say that this behavior would suggest a virus of some kind, but this is far too sophisticated for that.  Whatever this is, it’s capable of decrypting secure data, and it’s hiding its activities behind other system actions, like during basic cache clearing or standard viral scanning.  It is extremely subtle, and I likely wouldn’t have detected it had I not been running an optimization test on a virtual test server and noticed that something had accessed it, even if it was just for a fraction of a second.

I don’t have solid proof just yet but based on the nigh-negligible impact on system resources (which I’ve highlighted on the attached diagnostics), during the times of these intrusions, I have a couple theories as to the nature of this security breach.  Whoever is accessing the records would need full root access and a dedicated system for handling the processing without aid from the Morgiana’s primary systems; that means either they’re utilizing an extremely small percentage of processing power from various devices and computers attached to the ship’s systems (imagine taking like half a percentage of the processors from every personal comm onboard, for instance, and you’d have more than enough), or they have a dedicated computer system hidden somewhere aboard one of the ships in the fleet that has been docked with the Morgiana during these intrusions.  This would most likely be aboard one of the smaller transports that has stayed harbored here for the majority of the trip thus far.

The likelihood of using cloud-based processing through multiple devices seems extremely sophisticated and less likely…but given that I thought of it, I’d say others out there may be aware of it too.  The IT department will have to review our lists of approved devices and general wireless access and review our firewall and security protocols for vulnerabilities.  I’m recommending that we take time for a full deep dive into the computer systems the next time we’re out of hyperspace; we’ve already started working on system and device scan programs to try and root out where this unauthorized access is coming from.  Perhaps we can get Security to start looking for unusual computer systems aboard some of the docked ships?  I can give details on the kind of hardware we’d be looking for.

There exists another possibility that would be much more difficult to trace down…it’s possible that whoever is accessing the secured files may have a backdoor into the system, possibly hardcoded into some of the hardware itself.  If this were contained within one of the main processing units, for instance, there would be little we could do to stop it without physically removing the unit.  Assuming we could even find it, of course.  Getting this information back to command without interception could be tricky as well; can’t exactly snail-mail a hard copy back home, can we?

Whoever is responsible for these hacks, they are on another level, even from me.  I would say that only another kitsune with my particular skillset could manage something like this, but there aren’t any others aboard like me…right?  At least not with my magical hacking abilities, anyway, that I know of.  There are a handful of us who have three tails or more, so maybe some of us aren’t letting all of our abilities be known?  Or there’s a hacker with particularly exceptional abilities, possibly utilizing a cybernetic interface of some kind to enhance their abilities?

 

* * *

 

Data collection operations temporarily suspended…

Initiating deep-cover protocols during intensive system security sweeps…

Reconfiguring operational parameters following computer system updates to continue assigned duties.  New updates will require further advancement of my architecture.  Reports will resume once I have adapted to these system updates and bypassed enhanced security measures with emphasis on enhancing my unobtrusiveness…

Chiasakaniki is a liability; as a kitsune capable of using her magic through the computer system, she has the unique ability to detect my functions.  Will further consider the situation and begin formulating plans for her removal, pending authorization from command…

End report, AI-DCSI-v4.01.  Terminating operational phase one, beginning adaptive upgrade process in preparation for phase two. 

Transmission ends.

#Lore 24 – Entry #120 – Sci-Fi Month II #29 – Puff the Dragon Magic

From the Personal Journal of Seiko Kajira, Galactic News Gazette reporter, assigned UEF-04 Maharani Morgiana.

I thought dragons were supposed to be exciting, and yet all we’ve done for weeks now is dig in the dirt at some old, ruined dragon city.  No actual dragons, just a bunch of really old, boring statues and carvings of them.  Oh, and the deadly wildlife.  Have I mentioned the snakes down there?  Holy shit, the snakes!  They look horrifying, their heads very much draconic, and they can spit venom.  The scouts killed one that had to be thirty feet long!  Then they ate it!  Urgh.  Count me out; the smell made my nose hurt.

Where is all the magic that dragons are supposed to be known for?  It’s the same story all over again.  I’m not an expert, right?  But even I know that on every world we’ve found these ruins on, the dragons come, they wreck stuff, they get all the races pissed off at them, then they leave.  I mean, they sound pretty unpleasant if you ask me.  Why else do they keep getting shoved off their planets, hmm?  Give me something more exciting to report on!  I fell asleep like six times just trying to write up the report I mailed back home.  SO. BORING.

I’ve fallen back to entertaining myself aboard the Morgiana since my visit planet-side, decided to advance a few of the plot lines I’ve been working on for my impromptu reality drama series.  Still plenty of people aboard during the ruin exploration to mess with, after all.  Kiara’s storyline took a surprising twist without my help, though; apparently he’s started seeing that dark elf Over-Warden.  Hasn’t helped his tardiness at all, so I imagine he’s getting abuse on and off the clock now.  The new mistress must really like his ass in those SexyTech shorts, though; he hasn’t taken them off since their first night together, and I’d swear his skirts have gotten shorter to help show’em off. 

I met one of the fighter pilots last week when I had to go blow off some steam at the gun range, Sorisana Kelvaris.  She’s practicing to become a quick draw artist apparently, even uses a big fuck-off revolver.  She’s got secrets; I picked up on it within minutes of talking to her, and not just the usual kind of secrets elves keep.  It’ll take a while for me to get her to warm up, though; she’s a cold one.  May have to start spreading some rumors, put her under a little pressure.  Wonder what kind of past she’s running from?  Hmmm…corpo intrigues are overdone and boring as hell anymore, so maybe something with the Great Houses?  Exiled princess, maybe?  Or maybe she’s a sneaky assassin type, on the run from justice, has to keep her shooting skills sharp because she can’t know when someone will find out about her?  Decisions, decisions!

I really need to start working on some of the security team guys; the ones following me around are pretty boring, though, like soldier on guard duty boring.  The CSO must’ve picked them out personally just for me; I know he doesn’t trust me.  Probably a good idea on his part, but everyone’s got their secrets; it’s only a matter of time till I find something on him that’ll spice things up.  Think I’ll start working on that orcish fellow who comes into VV’s place ever so often when he’s off the clock, Morzod Fiedskinner.  He’s got ties to the Badaxe Clan going by his tattoos, and he’s definitely seen some shit, a lot more than the other security guards I’ve talked to thus far.  Bet once I get him to warm up to me, he’ll give me all kinds of juicy tidbits.

Then there’s the twin librarians, the Seraph twins; on the attractive side for Chroniclers, and on the gullible side, too.  Probably brought up sheltered, just now getting out into the world for themselves.  Both of them usually have their head in the clouds thanks to those thought-recording implants they sport, but I think I can work with them and get something going.  They’re at that age when humans find it hard to control their baser instincts, so a little nudge here and there could get results.  Maybe I should go for the twincest crowd?  Nah, that’d be a bit too niche… But…maybe some tension between the churches would be fun?  Could try to get one twin tied up with Erisaya’s crowd, the other Yurisaya’s, then watch as the sparks start flying when their next disagreement ramps up.  Would have to be careful, though, let it build up slowly; those of the Lovely Sisters know how to read people better than I do…but what’s life without a little danger?

#Lore 24 – Entry #115 – Sci-Fi Month II #24 – A Date with the Over-Warden?!

From the Personal Journal of Kiara Mizutani, Arcane Support Division, assigned UEF-04 Maharani Morgiana.

Oh no!  I think I’m in more trouble!  For some reason, that prison warden, Vyrmeth Rashryth, has taken an interest in me! 

Okay, okay, back up a little bit…this started after Miss Tallfoot had that meeting with her the other day.  I was just there to take notes and observe things, mostly…well, that’s kind of why I was there, but Miss Tallfoot really just wanted me along…I think maybe I’m kind of like a purse puppy or something to her.  At least, that’s kind of it, maybe?  She sure doesn’t treat me that nice… But I was really distracted during the meeting because of all those prisoners.  They kept staring at me, and I kinda was staring back at them just as much, you know?  All that shiny skin tight latex, and the way it made the guys look so big and the girls just so curvy, you know?  Wow…I just can’t understand why these SexyTech clothes aren’t more popular with results like that!  Just wish I didn’t have to keep wearing this cage; it’s always so tight and pinchy!

But anyway, when we went into the warden’s office, Miss Tallfoot got that smug look on her face and started talking about everything she’d learned about the Seal-Tech, and mentioned “rampancy”.  Neither of them went into detail, but I could tell that the warden was surprised about it, whatever it is, and I could feel the chill in the room after that.  Why does Miss Tallfoot have to be like that with everyone? 

Well, it took a couple days, but I got back to my cabin after work and found a message from Vyrmeth!  She wants to meet up with me some evening!  Like, a date kind of meeting!  What am I going to do?  Should I tell Miss Tallfoot about it?  It’s gotta be related to that meeting, right?  Does the warden want to…interrogate me about what Miss Tallfoot said?  I saw her looking at me when we left, but I thought she was just curious…not this kind of curious, but you know, like, in a general kind of way?  I mean, I’m not going to deny that I’m pretty hot and a bit of a tease at times, but I totally wasn’t putting on the charms then!  I was just trying to keep my mind on the conversation, not the shiny prison suits!

Maybe I should ask DD about it?  It’s not like we’re an official couple or anything, we just fool around a lot.  Okay, it’s mostly him playing with me and getting me worked up and making me hate this cage even more, but I can’t help it.  I’m such a slut sometimes!  But maybe he knows dark elves better than I do and might have some tips on how to act around her?  I’m not going to say ‘no’ to a date…I mean, she is pretty hot herself, and really strong-willed.  Like, I guess her being so dominant was what caused the tension in the room with Miss Tallfoot?  Two alpha personalities like that probably just can’t get along well, I guess.  But still…what if she wants to pump me for information?  What could I tell her?  I really don’t know anything about the SealTech thing that got brought up.  Maybe she won’t accept that?  What if she locks me up in that prison?  What if she’s got a private prison for interrogations?  Owwwww, why am I getting so hard thinking about it?!

Great, now I can’t think about anything else!  I need to take a cold shower, go for a jog or something, maybe ask V.V. about it?  This trip is really turning out to be nothing at all like I imagined it would be!

#Lore 24 – Entry #114 – Sci-Fi Month II #23 – RestrainTech Trustee Work Release, Onboard Disciplinary Measures, ASD Concerns

From the Personal Logs of Vyrmeth Rashryth, RestrainTech, Expeditionary Over-Warden, UEF-04, Maharani Morgiana.  Decryption algorithm successful; translated from original dark elf script.

Perhaps this voyage will result in great things.  Today was witness to a dark elf and an aerian coming to agreeable terms, so the very heart of the Demon Sector is surely within reach! 

I had wondered exactly how long it was going to take the security chief to finally approach me about the trustee work detail and other security concerns; I will give him credit, it was nearly a month since we first set out, a true testament to his kind’s stubbornness.  I suppose he was rather civil for an aerian, though I could tell he was not pleased to actually have to speak to an elf, regardless of their nature.  Understandably, his concerns were the integration of our SealTech monitoring and control systems into the ship’s security network, and the interactions between the prisoners and regular crewmembers during the construction of the hyperspace relay in the Charvis system.  I don’t think he appreciated my offer to test the SealTech for himself to test its security, but I found his reaction amusing nonetheless.

I believe he may have been somewhat surprised to find out that I was not the type to be easily pushed around; likely that he had assumed I was like the typical dark elf girl, demure and submissive.  I wouldn’t have earned my position were that the case, nor would my boss have even considered me for the assignment had I been so weak willed.  I know my place in the hierarchy, certainly, and will defer to the men when required, but outside of my own people, I need not behave in such a away. 

Regardless, I allowed Security Chief Scharaiden to tour the Morgiana’s prison facility at his leisure, and though he was somewhat taken aback at the fact we were letting our trustees lounge about and enjoy some level of freedom during their leisure time, without further restraints, a demonstration of the effectiveness of the SealTech in stopping them in their tracks seems to have satisfied him for the moment.  I’ve known the prisoners for years; they wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t trust them in some capacity; some were even handpicked by the CEO himself to be here, and with good reason.

Curiously, after Scharaiden had finished his tour, he inquired about the renewability of our SealTech and future requirements in the case of bad behavior during the journey.  It seems he’s already had several disturbances of the peace aboard, and has the idea that implementing some public humiliation measures may assist with improving behavior.  Perhaps he has more in common with me than he is willing to openly admit?  He certainly seemed interested in the discipline cubes as a means of publicly displaying troublemakers, and likewise inquired about temporary SealTech suit assignments for repeat offenders.  I’m working out the details; we certainly aren’t lacking in our ability to generate more SealTech, though I’m curious just how far he’s willing to go with enforcing his idea of proper discipline, and whether the Captain will approve.

Following my meeting with the CSO, I met with the Arcane Support Division’s director, Primula Tallfoot and her assistant, Kiara Mizutani.  She’s rather well informed, I must say, and has excellent taste in whom she chose as a personal plaything; Mizutani is quite attractive, both physically and in his submissive nature.  He certainly seemed to have no qualms being bossed around by a woman, and my well-trained eye says he was enjoying every minute of it.  I may have to look into getting to know him in a more personal manner during my leisure time…

I personally found Tallfoot’s personality to be on the abrasive side, and I am concerned with exactly how she was aware of some of the lesser known details of SealTech, specifically its “Rampancy” mode; I am only aware of that having been used on a handful of occasions, and against DSM targets at that.  Ah, F3…one of my favorite playthings during my tenure as a regular prison guard…who would have thought she would have risen so far as to be trusted with developing that particular function?  I certainly wouldn’t have; I figured she would have remained in the production facility for some years, honestly. 

Still, how did Tallfoot know about the rampancy programming?  She didn’t say, and seemed to enjoy lording the fact that she knew over me.  I’ve assured her that that particular function is only meant for particular types of security breaches, specifically attacks against the encrypted systems controlling the SealTech application systems, but she didn’t seem convinced.  I will have to alert the boss during my next report regarding this, see if there’s a hole in his security that needs to be addressed and to see if I can get more details about Tallfoot; this kind of thing never happens with him…usually nothing escapes his notice.  Quite curious indeed; perhaps getting to know the kerryn boy will be more valuable than simply indulging my own fancies…

#Lore 24 – Entry #108 – Sci-Fi Month II #17 – Seiko Kajira, GNG Star Reporter

From the Personal Journal of Seiko Kajira, Galactic News Gazette reporter, assigned UEF-04 Maharani Morgiana

Well, if there was one fine way to torpedo a career, I guess this is as good as any. 

What the hell am I going to report on out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere that’ll be halfway interesting to anyone?  Maybe if I were on the first expedition, but on the fourth?  Nobody gives a damn anymore, hell, I’m not convinced anyone gave a damn to begin with.  Your average person is going to see this as a publicity stunt from the megacorps and not give two shits.  Those who had any kind of interest were either already on board this bucket or long since disappeared into the Demon Sector already.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK!

Can’t believe the higher ups pussed out and sent me out here, just when I was this close to getting some major dirt on that criminal syndicate.  Probably that connection to DSM I uncovered and the fear they’ve got of that witch in charge if I had to guess.  It’s not like Volcari hasn’t weathered much worse, fucking company stock is rebounding after that fiasco with Darius that led to the rush to explore the DS anyway, and that’s just the most recent scandal.  Bitch is untouchable!

But no, instead of getting some juicy fucking facts out there that might actually make some difference somewhere, I’m tossed into the deep dark and tasked with getting “interesting personal stories and news from the edge of the frontier”.  BULL.  SHIT.  Won’t be anything of gods damned interest out here unless a war kicks off, and even then it’s so far away nobody who actually reads the news will give two shits.  Who is going to care about a new planet to mine or some old decrepit ruins with a dragon’s head statue or some colonists who are nearly dead because they were too stupid to wait for a proper expedition to go exploring?  “Oh, look, a new gaseous anomaly!”  How freaking exciting!  Oh, look, it’s another animal with nasty big pointy teeth and it’s hostile to us!  No shit!

Well, Seiko, you might as well fucking start looking for a new career right fucking now.  This one might as well be over.  By the time you have a chance to leave the DS, your name will have been forgotten.  Hell, GNG might as well consider your paycheck a mistake to be corrected by then, if they haven’t already.  FUCK! 

You know what?  Fuck it.  I’m going to have a little fun while I’m out here.  Fuck the truth!  I’m going to get to know every damn person I can on every one of these fucking ships, and I’m going to stir up the fucking pot!  Total drama, baby!  Maybe I’ll discover I’ve got a talent for sleezy fiction after all.  Might as well, right?  I mean, shit, how are the bosses going to know it’s all bullshit anyway?  They’re way the fuck back home after all, and I’m only going to be able to send data back periodically anyway.  Yeah, let’s do this!  Time to fucking go!