The once great city of Del-Godar now cast a shadow over the barren landscape reminding all that power is a fleeting thing and that those who climb must someday fall, for hundreds of cycles it had stood and watched as warriors and wayfarers came and went bringing wealth and power. The great halls echoed with the sound of merriment and laughter and all gave praise to the Gods for their gifts of peace and plenty. Then the Darkness arose and the city became a place of death and despair, those that found shelter inside the great stones watched as it became their prison. Instead of laughter there was weeping, brutality replaced kindness and curses to the sky filled the air rather than song. People left the city and wandered into the Outlands for they preferred a clean death instead of the horrors that waited for them inside their once proud home, those that were left made sacrifices of blood and flesh and tossed their own onto flaming pyre’s in a blind hope that the Gods would rid them of the thing from the darkness. What that abomination was none could say for those that saw it died screaming, soon there were none left except for a few castaways from other worlds, strong, hardened creatures that could live by terror and sustain themselves by eating the flesh of their kind. And so the name of Del-Godar became a cursed word, a place that no follower of the Gods would come near, a place that was empty and dark until fate stepped in and sent the ruined city warriors from the stars, strong in armaments but weak in wisdom.
“Where is my communication?” Ivar-Anoon was in no mood for excuses as he sat at his make-shift command table that had been set up outside, he was surrounded by the surviving officers of his crashed lander ship, his piercing eyes scanned the faces of his men looking for any sign of defiance, there were none for they all knew that their lives depended on their Commanders whims. “Without communications, we are vulnerable and I will not be weak!”
There was an uneasy silence around the table then one of the officers finally summoned up the courage to speak, “we are trying to contact the main fleet right now but so far we have only been able to establish intermittent connections”.
Intermittent connections the words hung in Ivar’s mind like lead and he would have had that officer punished and supplanted but there were no others to take his place so he had to suppress his anger, “Work day and night, I want full communications” then he turned to a parchment surface map on the table, “We are here” pointing to a marking in red “Our forces are scattered, I want recons sent out to find them and consolidate our forces”. Once more there was silence before another officer found his bravery, “We cannot move from our base without guiders if we do we won’t be able to find our way back”.
The officer was correct in bringing this matter to his commander’s attention for it was well known that the planet emitted some sort of mind-scramble on those that tried to cross it surface and they never returned. It would not have been a problem if their electronic guiders were functioning but they were rendered useless when the ship and its contents were struck by the powerful EMP. Ivar gave him a cold glance, “Send them out in stages, each one within eye-link to the other, find our troopers and build our strength”. It was a simple enough plan but to the officers it seemed that the General was risking his limited soldiers in an effort to find more that may or may not exist, a plan that would have been un-thinkable in any other situation and many said that it was a weakness in him for his lost son, but they would have been wrong, for finding his son was not first on his list of obstacles to overcome.
Plague, that was the thought that filled his mind, the sickness and death that would come for them soon if they could not find the green salt that held back the virus, Ivar had hoped that once on the planet his medical team would find a substitute or perhaps a cure but the crash had ended that hope, now there was only one chance, they must find the rare mineral.
“I want our best men to go into the stone city and recon for plague-salt, search every level, every chamber but find it”. All eyes focused on a large man with a bald head, his name was Major Grevas, he was well known among the troopers for he was the only survivor of the battle of Caras-Nor, ten thousand died in a single day in that conflict but the Major had lived, some said it was his willingness to kill without mercy while others said it was his ability to withstand pain, whatever the reason he was a perfect candidate for the mission and he knew it so rising from his chair he snapped to attention.
“I volunteer for the mission sir!” he said smartly.
This was not a shock to the General for Grevas was one of his best men and a man who got the job done, “Pick you men and report to me when ready.”
Ivar stood up indicating that the meeting was over and watched without speaking until everyone had left then he turned to gaze at the huge stone city that had been used as a landing site marker, to him it seemed of little concern for how could an ancient fortification be a threat to him? It had no armaments or warriors, even the powerful beacon that once adorned its pinnacle had long ago smashed to the ground. Even stone is weak, the thought amused him for he knew that rock can be crushed, but what he did not know was the terror that still lived within those forgotten stones.