Chapter 6
The Next Moves
"This is fucking boring!"
Jacob rolled his eyes as Jon complained for the fifth time about the distinct lack of action after their assault. Once the mecha and Engels had established a secure landing area, word was sent to the carriers stationed in Shanxi's orbit to begin landing the ground forces. The skies of Shanxi now teemed with activity as shuttlecraft made their way to the planet's surface. The complement of the Xerxes was the first to make planet-fall; troops, support vehicles and supplies were all ferried down. As for the squadrons, their orders were to hold their positions until all ground personnel were down and ready, and so for the past hour, Jacob and his team lounged beside their mecha, trying their best to amuse themselves and failing.
"Well, that's war, Jonny," Alison said. "For every hour of actual fighting, there'll be another six of waiting, often a lot more. It's not like in the vids with action every other minute."
"But why the hell did we stop?" he groused. "We were kicking their asses six ways to Sunday! If we kept on going, we could've routed their entire goddamn army! This whole battle would be over before the next day!"
"No, it wouldn't, balls-for-brains," Alison replied. "We were able to do so much damage because we caught them with their pants down. By now, they know we're here, and they can prepare for us. With that in mind, if we charged in right now, we'd soon find ourselves overextended and without support. Our mecha can take a beating, but my computer picked up some pretty nasty readings off of their big guns; some of them even got lucky enough to rip holes in a few Engels, which I might remind you, have armor as thick as our Sword-classes. Enough of them aimed at us, even the Nazzadi's mecha won't be able to dodge them all, and unlike Engels, our mecha can't regenerate. Our damage control systems can only do so much." She leaned back against the massive leg of her Claymore. "It's Tactics 101."
Jon crossed his arms and grumbled, doing his best impression of a pouting child. He was quite successful, so much so that Jacob and James snorted with laughter at the sight. Then, a voice suddenly blared out in front of them.
"Let's go, people! We're burning daylight! I want us ready to roll out when we get the word! Schnell!"
Jacob turned to look at the source of the voice; Captain Johan Reiner, commanding officer of B Company (dubbed Butcher Company), 97th Heavy Infantry Battalion, strode about his unit, voice like thunder. He was a bull of a man, six and a half feet of iron muscle with the only fat present on his body coming from the meal he had aboard the Xerxes. He was encased in heavy combat armor, pitch black in color with his Captain's insignia stamped on his helmet in stark white. While his armor was more cumbersome than the versions worn by the Light Infantry units, it also came with a fully sealed and self-adjusting environment, along with superior protection.
He was armed with an electrokinetic assault rifle, which Jacob recognized as an AR-30; it fired a five-round burst with each pull of the trigger which would tear across the field at insane velocities, but that wasn't what made it truly dangerous. Each round was laced with a potent cocktail of neurotoxins, a trick the Federation military had picked up from the Migou. The difference, though, was that the toxins were not made simply to incapacitate; they were made to kill, and kill quickly, ravaging the nervous system with remarkable efficiency. You get so much as a flesh wound from a bullet, and you'd be dead before you even realized you had been hit.
The soldiers themselves were outfitted similarly to their captain, protected by the same armor and armed with various electrokinetic guns, as well as a number of heavy weapons, including plasma guns, heavy rail guns and missile launchers. They also carried a few scaled-down charge beam battery mounts, capable of taking out something the size of his Gladius with one good hit.
With a wide grin, Jon cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, "Hey, Captain! We just took out a few thousand aliens so you guys could set down! Feel free to do the usual thing and marvel at us!"
Jon, like many other mecha pilots, could not resist baiting soldiers. It was practically a natural law that mecha pilots and ground forces be at odds with each other. Soldiers tended to regard mecha pilots as overconfident adrenaline junkies who think that because they get to ride around in a giant death machine, they were cock of the walk. Mecha pilots, in turn, regarded the soldiers as being jealous of their skills, and felt that they should be grateful for having their support. Fortunately, this rivalry was almost entirely friendly; sure, they would take jabs at each other, but when it came down to it, they were both members of the Federation's Armed Forces, and it was their duty to safeguard it.
Reiner turned towards Jon, a half-smile appearing on his face. "Danke, mein Freund, for your help. I'm sure it must have been quite dangerous, what with only your two-story plus armored mech protecting you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get the real men and women ready for battle."
Jon's grin grew wider. "Come on, Captain, don't be sore just because I have the stones to dive onto a planet from orbit while you guys have to be bussed down."
Reiner let out a bark of laughter. "Why do mecha pilots always try to glorify their balls? You must really be trying to compensate for something." His company joined in on the laughter, and Jon bristled; if there was one thing that got under his skin, it was questioning his masculinity.
"Hey, you wish you had the sheer balls that I have!"
"Not really; mine would have to shrink down a few sizes for that," Reiner chortled. With that, he walked back to his unit, claiming victory for himself while Jon made noises of protest.
Alison let out a sigh. "And that concludes this episode of Battle of the Testosterone-Filled Man-Penises." She shook her head and looked up at the sky, as though seeking answers from on high. "Why do men always insist on getting into dick-measuring contests with each other?"
Jon shrugged. "Don't know. Why do women try to compare bust sizes?"
"We do not!" Alison declared vehemently. "Women are far more mature than that!"
"Then what was that time with that Nazzadi pilot?" Jimmy put in. "What was her name? Seravy?"
Alison shot the scrawny mech pilot a sharp glare. "For your information, it was a polite and intellectual conversation between peers," she said, before adding under her breath, "And she was not two cup sizes bigger than me."
#
Carnage strode back to the rendezvous point for the Tager Packs, his captive in tow. The alien was still out cold, which served him just fine. Conscious prisoners had a tendency to flail about, and when faced with an extra-dimensional creature as their captor, they only redoubled their efforts to get away. Some Tagers might find amusement in such antics, but Carnage was not one of them.
A few minutes later, he entered the area where the two Packs had set themselves up. The varying breeds of Tager symbionts milled about, often shifting impatiently; no matter what type they were, every Tager was a creature born of violence and standing around waiting was something that irked them. Even those whose symbionts granted them the cold patience of an ambush predator would eventually become anxious for some action.
In the middle was a large gathering of alien prisoners in varying degrees of distress. Some were curled up into fetal positions, quivering so badly it was a wonder they could sit up. Others simply sat in forlorn silence, their eyes glazed and stares blank, no doubt awaiting whatever fate had in store for them. A few looked like they would attempt to make a run for it, though that notion was quickly put out of their minds by a threatening gesture and a growl from one of the Tagers guarding them.
Carnage walked up to the mass of aliens and tossed in his prisoner. The aliens began squawking and twittering as they crowded around their fellow prisoner. One even looked up and shot what could only be a venomous glare at him. Carnage smirked; not many would have the stones to do that to a Bloodgod. The predatory instinct that had been instilled in him when he was only a Vampire made him want to rip the alien apart for daring to challenge him. With difficulty, he managed to suppress the urge and instead settled for giving a glare of his own. Immediately, the alien was cowed and looked away.
Carnage rumbled in satisfaction; the Rite of Sacred Union had turned him from a simple human into a creature that was at the very top of the food chain. As such, it was the natural order of things for mortal beings to cower before him. Sheep, after all, rightly tremble before wolves.
"Ugly bastards, aren't they?"
Carnage turned and came face to face with Wallow, the leader of Jericho. He was a Torment, the terrible evolution of the Nightmare symbiont. Anyone even remotely familiar with this Tager would know that it was aptly named. A Torment was suffering given flesh, a walking abattoir of agony personified. To even touch one was to be stricken with pain beyond description. Though equal in height to Carnage, Wallow possessed three times the bulk, a walking slab of muscle and bony protrusions. His overlong arms, each as thick as tree trunks, were tipped with four talons; unlike Carnage's thinner claws, these were little more than blades whose sole purpose was to rip flesh from bone. Where there should have been a head, there were only rows of interlocking fibrous cords. Dark blue skin with shoulders that bulged with unsightly growths completed the horrific picture.
Carnage grinned as well as he could in his shifted form. "Indeed. And their language really grates on the ears." He gestured to the prisoners. "Have they been giving you any trouble?"
"No, they've been nice and quiet. They learned quickly that trying to fight back only ends up with them being dead, and often in multiple pieces."
Carnage let loose a guttural laugh; it sounded like a man drowning. "So, what's the next move?"
"Some of my boys are doing some checking around the ship's hidey-holes; see if they missed any stragglers. Once they get back, I say we head for the big fish. Is your Murder ready?"
"Just about. I got Snitch and Creeper hunting down a runner. They should be back—ah, here they come now!"
Creeper and Snitch shuffled over to their leader and nodded their heads in acknowledgement. Snitch was carrying the alien that got away, draped across his upper arms like some terrible parody of a damsel being rescued by her stalwart hero. Carnage gave a nod of his own.
"Good work, boys. Did our little friend give you any trouble?"
"A bit, near end," answered Snitch. "She came at us like a wildcat, all claws and fists. Creeper even got two of his eyes poked out. A good chop to the head put an end to that."
Wallow scrutinized the alien; if he had possessed any recognizable facial features, they would have been scrunched up in confusion. "This thing's a female? Damn; and I thought the males were ugly. Hey, look; it's waking up!"
Sure enough, the female alien was beginning to stir. She let out a tiny groan and blinked her eyes open; they went wide as saucers as soon as she saw the company she was in. Carnage's fangs twisted upward in a fiendish smile and he bent down to the alien's level.
"Hello there, little one. Remember me?"
In answer, the alien let out a shrill wail and attempted to leap out of Snitch's arms. Unfortunately for her, Snitch was quicker and clamped his clawed hands on the alien's shoulders, making sure to keep her feet well above the ground. She began to squirm violently in the Tager's grasp, but it was no use; she wasn't going anywhere. Her struggles elicited low chortles of amusement from the nearby Tagers.
"She really is a spirited one," Carnage remarked.
"Told you," Snitch said as the alien continued to struggle. "Want me to knock her out again, Alpha?"
Carnage shook his head. "Nah. Give her here; I'll make sure she learns to behave."
As Carnage took hold of the alien, she redoubled her efforts to get away and her shrieks increased in volume, causing the Bloodgod to wince. Idly, he reflected that having senses superior to normal humans sometimes had its downsides.
"Shut up and stop wriggling, you little runt!" he snarled. Unsurprisingly, the alien proceeded to do the exact opposite and made no indication that she was going to stop anytime soon. The language barrier wasn't helping any either, and so to that end, Carnage decided that a more physical approach was necessary. He delivered a sharp slap to the alien's face, being careful not to put too much force behind so as to avoid taking her head off. "I said be quiet!"
The alien shook her head, stunned from the blow. When she managed to recover, she began to open her mouth again to scream, only to have the Bloodgod's hand wrap around it.
"No more of that," Carnage growled. "Alright, I know you can't understand me, but you'd best pay attention if you want to stay in one piece. You," he indicated the alien, "are going to sit over there with the rest of your kind and behave." He jerked his head towards the morass of alien captives. "Now, I'm going to let go of your mouth; you start screaming again, and I will seal it shut until I feel generous. Got it?"
He removed his hand from the alien's mouth. Apparently, she had gotten the message, and was now staying as quiet as a corpse. With a grotesque smile, Carnage patted the alien on the cheek. "There, you see how nice things are when you cooperate?" He then set her gently back on the floor. She didn't try to run away, obviously realizing that would be a futile effort. Carnage pointed to the prisoners. "Now, be a good little alien and go sit with your friends."
The alien hesitated for a moment, but a low growl from Carnage made her scamper into the group. Wallow chuckled at the sight.
"Gotta say, Carnage, you really know how to get your point across."
Carnage gave a massive shrug. "It's not that hard. Violence is the universal language, after all; nothing like the threat of severe bodily harm to make someone hop to it."
"Ain't that the truth?" Wallow then jerked upwards and the fibrous cords that took the place of a head bent downward, an indication of delight. "Looks like my boys are done. Everything's all clear and they're on their way back. We'd best get our Murders ready."
As Wallow lumbered away, Carnage faced the members of his own Murder. "You all heard him; we're going to finish this thing." He indicated several Tagers. "Snitch, Creeper, Hemlock, Grief, Skinner; you'll be joining us. The rest of you, stay here and keep an eye on the prisoners with whomever Wallow leaves behind. If they start getting restless, 'remind' them that silence is golden, but don't get carried away; the dead can't give up information. Understood?"
A chorus of affirmations answered him. As his chosen team assembled themselves, Carnage felt a savage bloodlust begin to well up inside him.
Time for the coup d'état.
#
General Williams drummed his fingers on a rail in the command center of Shanxi. The alien army had stopped its advance and was now encircling the city. Their bombardments had taken out several key structures, including their long-range communication relays, effectively rendering them blind and deaf to anything outside the city. Their assault had been both efficient and ruthless, taking advantage of the initial chaos to carve their way through his meager forces. Why it had stopped was at the moment a mystery to him; if they had continued to press the attack, the city would have been under their control by day's end. Were they waiting for additional forces? Did something happen? Or were they just toying with them?
Whatever the case, the General wasn't about to let this lull go to waste.
Exiting the main room, he made his way down to one of the lower levels where magic was made. The moment the aliens had made themselves known, Williams had the sorcerers work overtime. Being critically short on manpower, any chance of hitting back was going to come from the mystic fields. None of that low-level crap; what they needed was some muscle, specifically the lean, vicious, eldritch kind.
The General came to a stop in front of a large glass window. Inside was consecrated space; only sorcerers and approved participants were allowed in. Williams saw them crowded around ritual circles, chanting in various arcane languages. Even from behind the reinforced glass and walls, he could feel the unnaturalness of occult activity seeping through.
At one circle with five sorcerers arranged around it, the chanting had reached a crescendo. An acid-green rift split the air, leaking a sickly vapor that flowed within the confines of the ring. Though shielded by glass and metal, Williams could swear that he smelled a putrid odor coming from the rip between space and time. His skin began to crawl in anticipation at what might be coming through the portal.
A few seconds later, the summoned creature pushed its way into the material universe. Williams saw it, and immediately wished he hadn't. So horrible was its appearance that he had the wild urge to claw his own eyes out so they could never behold such a thing again. Fortunately, his sanity reasserted itself before he could act on that impulse. Not wishing to linger down in this ungodly place any longer, the General made his way back to the main command center, moving as quickly as dignity allowed.
Upon reentering the bunker, a communications officer called out to him. "General Williams! We've got an incoming transmission!"
Shaking off the lingering feelings of dread, Williams made his way to the officer. "If it's the aliens asking us to surrender, I want to tell them to go screw themselves."
The man smirked. "Well, I don't think you'll get that chance sir. They're broadcasting Federation codes. It's a little garbled, but—" he pushed a few keys and then let out a crow of triumph. "Got it! Short-range communications have got a clear line! Patching it through."
No sooner said than done. A hologram of an Asiatic woman appeared in front of him, decked out in military uniform. She exuded a no-nonsense mentality, her face an unreadable mask. Standing at attention, she snapped a salute to the General. "Brigadier Xiu Chen, commander of the 101st Infantry and 52nd Armored Divisions, reporting."
Williams returned the salute. "General Amos Williams. If you don't mind me saying, Brigadier, you are a sight for sore eyes."
Only the barest hint of a smile crossed the Brigadier's face. "I can imagine, sir. From what we've heard, these aliens have been hitting you hard."
"Am I to assume that you're the reason they've stopped?"
"Yes sir. We've managed to break through their blockade and took out at least two battalion's worth of their soldiers. As of now, we're establishing our beachhead. Give us a couple more hours and we'll be ready to launch an offensive. What is your status, General?"
"Definitely not peachy," Williams grunted. "The alien bastards took out some important places with their ships, including our nanoforges. We salvaged what we could, but without those forges, we can't replenish our supplies or ammunition, both of which are already getting low."
"What about your soldiers, General?"
"Morale amongst the troops is less-than stellar at the moment, but once they get wind of your relief force, that'll soon change. As of now, I have about two battalions worth of soldiers fit for duty and a few mecha for support, so if the aliens decide to make a big push, we won't be able to hold them off for long."
"Understood, General. The moment my forces are ready, we'll head to your position and reinforce you."
Williams shook his head. "No. We've got a better opportunity." He walked over to a 3-D render of a map, displaying the unit positions, and pointed to a section on the aliens' side. "We've identified this portion as a high-value target. Judging by how it's flanked by two other formations, it is likely where their command structure resides." He turned back to the hologram. "Where have your forces stationed themselves?"
The Brigadier's image scrutinized the map and replied, "Near their left flank; by my estimates, only a few miles away."
The General nodded. "Good. Then that is where your troops will strike. Now, given how tightly its two rearguards are clustered, I'd be willing to wager that they'll be expecting an attack, so do this by the book."
By that, Williams meant to send out reconnaissance teams to gather information about the enemy's forces before attacking. It was more of a token order than anything; no commander worth their stars would charge headlong into enemy positions without first securing intel on them.
"And what about your forces?"
"We'll hold position here in the city. I've had the sorcerers under my command working around the clock; thanks to them, we've got some nasty surprises in store for the aliens."
As if on cue, the most ungodly, bloodcurdling howls erupted from below. The cacophony was of an inhuman and unnatural malignance, fit to fill the deepest caverns of Hell. Everyone present jumped into the air in fright; even Williams could feel himself breaking out into a cold sweat.
The Brigadier's face took on an ashen hue. Even through the transmission, she had heard the cries as clearly as if she had been there herself. "I…see," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "And will these…'surprises' be of any threat to my troops?"
"Rest assured, we're taking every precaution with them," Williams promised. That wasn't a total reassurance, but it was the best that could be done when otherworldly creatures were concerned.
Nevertheless, Chen nodded. "Understood, General." The transmission ended and Williams summoned one of his aides.
"Tell the sorcerers to send their new pets out at dark. I'll be damned if I let these sons of bitches get a good night's sleep."
#
Codex: Magic and Sorcerers
Once arcanotechnology had been accepted, magic was soon to follow. It is a carefully regulated business, as it has potential for great misuse, intentionally or otherwise. Nevertheless, the practice of magic is far from uncommon and sees use in a number of fields, from medical to corporate to military.
Semantics
Orgone is classified as the primal biological energy of the body and is the official term used by the New Earth Federation for that invisible thing inside people that allows them to manipulate the cosmic forces of the universe (magic or para-psychic abilities). It was "discovered" by Dr. Wilhem Reich, a psychoanalyst whose experiments led him to believe there was a force that had not yet been described by classical physics. His theories of orgone biophysics created the basis for modern accepted occultism. However, occultists and sorcerers in the trade rarely use the term Orgone. To them, Orgone is just a fancy pseudo-science term used by the government to make magic seem less scary. The thing they believe allows them to play with cosmic forces is called Ruach, a Hebrew word for spirit. Since Jewish mysticism contributed significantly to the modern understanding of cosmic structure, the magical community fell into the practice of using this term.
Another difference, though more subtle, is in the spelling of the word magic. One can always identify a knowledgeable occultist or sorcerer in that he spells his magic with a –k at the end – magick. It is an anachronistic practice, but one that has maintained favor through the translation of old occult tomes
Legality and Registration
Magic is controlled and regulated by the government. All possible ritual component and magic-related purchases are tracked by the Office of Internal Security. Those who have the knowledge and skill to be sorcerers are required to register. The OIS also polices the magic black market, also known as the arcane underground, which traffics in items the New Earth Federation deems too dangerous to be in the public's hands.
The penalties for violating the laws regulating magic are severe, but not as severe as the "legal" process. Any person in violation of magical statutes loses their rights. It is assumed that by entering areas deemed dangerous by the NEF that a person has become compromised by the dark forces of the universe, and therefore can no longer be considered mortal. The Office of Internal Security has the authority to arrest, detain without charge, and confiscate any and all materials and contraband that they deem necessary. Such individuals are then taken to a detention facility where they undergo an unpleasant battery of interrogations and tests to determine their state of mind and being. Those that succeed in establishing their sanity and mortality then go on to stand trial as normal. Those who do not find themselves locked away in specially guarded and warded OIS vaults, lost forever to the world.
Sorcerers
There are three things that make a sorcerer: a great will, a capacity for cosmic energy (inherent in nearly all living things, though sometimes weaker than others), and the drive to delve fearlessly into the occult. The first and the last are easily measured and are watched in upcoming youths in the New Earth Federation school system.
All students undergo aptitude testing as part of their normal schooling. The NEF has added a section that tests those traits that mark a youth as a potential sorcerer. When such students are identified, the Office of Internal Security takes interest, watching the individual's continuing studies, their purchases, and checking on their lifestyles. This allows them to recruit gifted sorcerers into government service and also have an early warning system for any whom decide to practice magic unregistered or who might fall under cult influence. This testing is one of the primary reasons that cults home-school their children.
The symbionts that make Tagers what they are require a regular infusion of Ruach in order to exist. This constant siphoning makes Tagers poor sorcerers, something they leave to other members of the Eldritch Society.
If a person meets the basic requirements for magical aptitude, it's pretty easy to find above-board training. Most reputable colleges have metaphysics programs that teach a young magician everything he needs to know. Graduates leave with a broad education in occult and magical theory, and more than likely an Enchantment, Protection, or Transmogrification (if a doctor) ritual or two under their belt. But there are still those who believe that the process is more intimate than that and feel that classroom education only sullies the study of "the Art". They choose to explore occult mysteries on their own and experiment in private. Some believe in a more traditional master/apprentice system. Regardless, those who want to study magic on the up and up have many options for training.
Service vs. Independence
There are two routes for registered New Earth Federation sorcerers to go in life – either service to the government or working as an independent.
Working for the government certainly has its benefits. In addition to great health and retirement benefits, NEF sorcerers have access to illegal books and spells. After all, in order to unweave an illegal spell a sorcerer must know it. That doesn't mean that government magicians have unlimited access to the "black arts" – this sort of knowledge is still carefully guarded. Even if the chances are few and far between, New Earth Federation sorcerers are the only ones allowed to skirt the legalities of their spells and libraries. On the other hand, not all government jobs are interesting. There are sorcerers whose entire job is maintaining wards for the President. But there are sorcerers employed by the military and police organizations that lead more exciting lives with more leeway in regards to practicing magic and these are the ones depicted in movies.
Being independent simply means that a sorcerer doesn't work for the government. Many sorcerers are recruited fresh out of college by private institutions. Corporations employ many eldritch magicians and actively seek hot talent. These sorcerers may be bound by the rules, but they are very well compensated. Other independents might just be people with an active interest in magic or those who simply seek to improve their own lives. Regardless, being an independent often means greater personal benefit, but it also means that being even more carefully watched by the Office of Internal Security.
Occult Languages
Besides the panoply of Human languages in which occult knowledge is recorded, there are a number of ancient and inhuman tongues in which such wisdom can be found.
• Aklo – The language of the ancient Valusians, an ancient and supposedly extinct race that lived long before mankind, Aklo is a tongue that modern mortals are capable of speaking with some difficulty. It existed in both a spoken and written form. There are few in the modern age who know anything of this long-dead language.
• Enochian – The supposed language of angels as recorded by Dr. John Dee and Edward Kelley, Enochian has become a language used in many rituals (first adopted by Aleister Crowley). It exists in both a written and spoken form and is very easy for mortals to learn and speak. Enochian, like Tsath-yo, is taught at most major universities. To this day, no one knows if Enochian is a genuine or invented language – a topic of some debate.
• Pnakotic – The language of either the Elder Race or the Great Race, or possibly shared by both, Pnakotic exists today in written form only. Scholars have been unable to determine what the language would sound like and Humans more than likely do not have the biology to replicate it. Ciphers preserved amongst ancient Antarctic ruins have contributed to the world's knowledge of Pnakotic today. While difficult to find, those who can translate Pnakotic do exist in the occult circles of the modern world.
• R'lyehan – A common occult language, if such thing can be called such a thing, R'lyehan has been preserved for millennia amongst the various cults of the world. It is supposedly the native tongue spoken by Cthulhu and his kind. Mortals are illequipped to speak the language, but phonetic recordings have been passed down through the ages and are still used in rituals. The true written form of the language is hieroglyphic.
• Tsath-yo – An early Human language, Tsath-yo is a Pangean (some say Hyperborean) language of ancient man. While not acknowledged by the archeological community for generations, the language was preserved in both its spoken and written form by those occultists who believed that our forebears held wisdom that we have lost through the ages. It is not unusual to find occultists who are fluent in Tsath-yo – most major universities with a reputable metaphysics program teach it. The written form of Tsath-yo is hieroglyphic, like many ancient languages of man.
Arcane Tomes
Given that most of these texts contain knowledge that would prove dangerous in the wrong hands the Federation circulates censored copies as genuine ones so that people will be less likely to go looking for the real things. The only uncensored versions in the Federation are kept by the Eldritch Society, though the remnants of the Children of Chaos cult still carry their own.
Book of Dzyan
Language: Chinese
Specializations: General Occult Lore, Occult History, Occult Symbology
First found in the despoiled grave of a Tibetan shaman, the Book of Dzyan contains a complete cycle of the world's secret history. It also contains a great deal of occult symbology. In many ways, this book is the Rosetta stone of occult knowledge. The censored version keeps the symbology intact, but "softens" the history lesson.
Book of Eibon
Language: Tsath-yo
Specializations: Occult History, Ritual History
The Book of Eibon, also known as the Liber Ivonus, is an ancient book that describes sorcerers from bygone days. The New Earth Federation cuts out the dark myths of the Endless Ones for the censored version.
Book of Five Shadows
Language: Aklo
Specializations: General Occult Lore, Otherworldly Creatures
The grimoire that has come to be known as the Book of Five Shadows is a definitive work on summoning extra-dimensional creatures. It discusses the different type of entities, advantages and disadvantages to summoning each, tips on how to best manage otherworldly servants, and how to make the best use of them.
The Breath of R'lyeh
Language: R'lyehan or Tsath-yo
Specializations: Endless Ones, Old Ones, Occult History
The Breath of R'lyeh is functionally a fragment of the Necronomicon that is large and complete enough to be considered its own text. It details more of the secret history of the world, focusing on the Endless Ones and the Old Ones, especially the reign of Cthulhu and the city of R'lyeh. Like its parent text, few complete versions of the book exist and the oldest versions contain powerful rituals now known only to the Children of Chaos and the Eldritch Society. The censored version is heavily watered down and, like the Necronomicon, the New Earth Federation circulates censored copies as the genuine article on the black market so that people will be less apt to go looking for the real thing.
Cultes des Goules
Language: French
Specializations: General Occult Lore, Minor Cults
This book delves into European ghoul cults. It details the subterranean race of corpse-eaters and documents the transformation of mortal to ghoul. The exploits of the cults are a morbid read.
De Vermiis Mysteriis
Language: Latin
Specializations: General Occult Lore, Historical Secret Societies, Ritual History
De Vermiss Mysteriis, or the Mysteries of the Worm, is a pre-Islamic book detailing the author's travels to the East. It contains lore of efreets, djinn, and ghouls, and how to converse with each. It talks about radical orders, like the assassin, the dervish, and the thuggee. Chapters also discuss both magical and traditional methods of divination, as well as familiars, though rituals are removed. The censored version removes the chapters on familiars and all about conversing with anything.
The Mysteries Within
Language: German
Specializations: General Occult Lore, and the Arcanotech Theory Specialization for the Arcanotech Engineering Specialization.
This book is directly responsible for the creation of arcanotechnology. Obscure in the extreme, it has become a bible to arcanotech theorists, detailing the power of dimensions and non-Euclidean geometry. The censored version tones back on some of the more extreme theory.
The Necronomicon
Language: R'lyehan or Tsath-yo
Specializations: Old Ones, Occult History
The Necronomicon (or Book of Dead Names) is perhaps the most famous occult tome of them all. Few complete versions of the book exists – if someone claims to have read it, he's only seen a fragment. It details the secret history of the world, focusing on the Old Ones. The oldest versions of the Necronomicon contain powerful rituals known only to the Children of Chaos and the Eldritch Society. The censored version contains a watered down version of the text – something safe for public consumption. However, you won't see copies of the Necronomicon at your local magic shoppe. The New Earth Federation circulates the censored versions as real copies in the Arcane Underground, so that people will be less likely to seek the real thing.
Pnakotic Manuscripts
Language: Pnakotic
Specializations: Old Ones, Occult History
A collection of disparate fragments, this manuscript (possibly created by the Elder Race) details an account of the Great Race, up to their destruction on this world. It also contains some reflection on the Elder Race. The censored version keeps things light.
Unausprechlichen Kulten
Language: German
Specializations: Children of Chaos, Disciples of the Unnamable, Esoteric Order of Dagon, Minor Cults, Mysticism
Unausprechlichen Kulten, or Nameless Cults, details a collection of secret societies. It traces their histories and patterns of worship and contains historical information on the three major cults threatening the world today – the Children of Chaos, the Disciples of the Unnamable, and the Esoteric Order of Dagon.
Author's note:
Sorry for the delay, but inputting codexes into earlier chapters and writing the next one took longer than I thought. Hopefully, I'll be able to pick up the pace again.