Present Day
User Name: Daniel Sylvester Hardgrave
Age: 18
Pioneer Class: Zeta
Rank: Private Second Class
Status:
Strength: 54 -> 56
Dexterity: 48 -> 62
Constitution: 59
Adaptability: 32 -> 34
Psyche: 24 -> 36
Psionic Capacities:
Slot 1: Empty
Personal Attributes:
Slot 1: Empty
Slot 2: Empty
Integrated Technologies:
Slot 1: Empty
Value of Personal Storage:
52,101 Credits
Value of Group Storage:
602,891 Credits {242,212 Recoverable}
…
Group Size: 13/20
Group Quota: 2,000,000 Credits (NOT MET)
Personal Quota: 153,846 (NOT MET)
Total Time: 84 Imperium Standard Days
Commission on Salvage Value: Under Quota: 60%, over Quota: 90%
Alert: Your Group has taken numerous casualties. Return these casualties to the pods to claim their remains and reduce your group quota by the Recoverable amount.
The morning after their recovery day, Hardgrave checked his stats and confirmed what he already knew. He had been transformed from the inside and out, his body filling out and hardening even beyond the weapon it had been forged into by basic training. Fortunately, he hadn’t grown that much larger from a physical standpoint, since too much muscle would cut down on agility and dexterity. Instead, his muscles had grown then shrunk, firming and increasing in density far beyond the point that normal humanity was capable of. Dexterity ensured that he was in perfect control of those muscles and was easily his favorite stat. It made handling his firearm and spear that much easier, and it improved his physical agility considerably. Constitution hardened his skin and internal organs while also improving blood flow and overall health/recovery. It made him much harder to kill, and it was what had kept him and the others alive in their battle against the Diaboco. He had gained the lion’s share of his Constitution from the Sparkhoof meat, meaning that his decision to hunt the buffalo creatures all those days ago had certainly saved his life and the lives of his men. An array of jagged white scars decorated his torso, clear to see when he took off his shirt to change. The still-aching wounds were small reminders of his narrow escape from death.
As for the other two stats, Adaptability would help with resistance to poisons and adverse conditions like high heat or deep cold, while also improving his senses. Psyche would improve his mental endurance, limiting his need for sleep, but it’s primary function would be to fuel any Psionic Capacities he might garner in the future. His recent massive jumps in Psyche and Dexterity were definitely spearheaded by the Greater Diaboco heart that the Sergeant had given him. It was well earned, since Hardgrave had saved the man’s life, but he’d accept it as a peace offering and choose not to hold a grudge. This decision was helped, of course, by the fact that the cantankerous CO could crumple him like a tin can of Danny did decide to pick a fight.
His mood would have been great were it not for the rest of that text below the bottom line. Even if they brought the other bodies back to the pods, their individual Quotas would still be increased substantially, which meant that their commission would also be lower. The Commission on Salvage Value (CSV) represented the value percentage of their materials that they would be allowed to keep at the end of this mission. If Danny’s Individual Quota was 100,000 and he gathered exactly 100,000 credits worth of stuff, he would walk away with 60,000 credits from this operation. This was because his CSV under Quota was 60%, and 60K was 60% of 100K. If his Quota stayed 100K and he instead gathered 150K worth of spoils, then he would walk away with 105K. This was because his CSV over Quota was 90%, so he kept 90% of the 50K he’d gathered over his Quota, which was 45K. Add that to the 60K he got from the amount below Quota you got 105K. But if his Quota changed to 150K, then he would only keep 60% of his 150K spoils, or 90K. It was the same amount gathered, but his own personal wealth would take a 15K hit. When someone died, the remaining Group Quota, minus the amount recovered, would be split evenly among the Pioneers and added to their individual Quotas.
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This was meant to encourage the stronger Pioneers to protect the weaker ones, and it had some success in doing that. There was no motive to allow someone to die and every incentive to bail them out of trouble if you could. This was advertised as a humane policy, but it also helped the government make more money from salvage in the case of casualties. The survivors would be forced to work harder in order to meet the increased Quota, and the government would take a greater percentage of their hard-earned loot when they did. That was the cynical observation, anyways, and it made Daniel bitterly remember the old man’s warnings against joining the military.
All the math gave Hardgrave a headache, but no matter what, the plan was clear: they would need to go back to the pods and drop off their casualties. They wrapped each of them in tarp shrouds then tied those shrouds to their backs before setting off into the forest. The mesmerizingly colorful shrubbery held a menacing promise, more so than ever before, and Daniel began to imagine more Diaboco stalking them through these bushes. Who was to say there weren’t more of them out there, watching and waiting for a chance to attack?
The sinking feeling of eyes watching him from just out of sight followed Daniel as the Pioneers continued their trek, but little did he know that he had more to fear from the sky than he did from the forest. For now.
As the sun approached its apex, the group was surprised to feel a cool breeze cut through the undergrowth and watch as shadow slowly covered their world. After the merciless heat of the day, it seemed like a heavenly blessing to look up and see dark clouds slinking across the sky and smothering the fiery tyrant at the height of its power. The dark weather front swiftly took over the amethyst firmament. Then it began to rain.
It started gradually, cool droplets pattering across their skin pleasantly, men sighing in relief at the sensation. Then it ramped up, droplets growing more and more dense as the storm clouds pelted them with an ever-increasing watery payload. It only got worse, rain coming down in grey sheets that instantly soaked the Pioneers to the bone. Gale force winds shrieked through the trees, pummeling the mortals below and slowing their progress as they slogged through the increasingly muddy ground. The rumble of thunder was a preternatural force as lighting pierced the sky with a deafening *BOOM*, the sound so strong their chests began vibrating. Daniel needed to blink away the blinding flash of white light as he squinted through the downpour, trying make out the shadowy figures of his friends and the uncertain form of the path ahead of him. The Pioneers staggered forward against the forces of nature, battered and oppressed, blood running cold as the sky mercilessly dumped a lake’s worth of water on them. They shivered and gasped through ten hours of drudgery, before finally even the Sergeant had had enough. Their leader turned around and Daniel watched as the man’s cragged, bearded face was temporarily illuminated by a rogue bolt of lightning flashing through the clouds, his screaming voice only barely audible over the subsequent roll of thunder:
“HALT! WE NEED TO TAKE SHELTER!”
They moved to do as ordered and found a tight copse of trees that provided some respite from the wind. It was a struggle to set their tents up in the muddy ground, but eventually they managed to get some shelter from the rain. The Pioneers breathed heavily as they changed into dry clothing in the tight confines of the tents. They soon began to huddle together for warmth, skin still slick with the cool rainwater. It was three men to a tent, with the CO getting some lodging to himself, and Daniel had ended up with Jordan and Omar. His buddy still held onto his characteristic, cheeky grin despite the circumstances, and he cracked:
“Seems like someone upstairs thought we needed a shower!”
Jordan was even cornier than usual, but the others were so high strung at this point that they laughed almost in spite of themselves. Those chuckles turned into coughs as they hacked up some of the water that they’d inhaled. Once he finished coughing Daniel took the time to focus on Ibrahim. The dark eyed man looked strained, almost haunted, and his already thin frame almost seemed to have lost weight since the beginning of the expedition. His breathing was strained, shallow, and Hardgrave realized that his comrade looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, even after the laughs that Jordan had so graciously provided. He thought back to the anger he’d felt towards Omar in the beginning days of the expedition and found that all he had for the man now was sympathy. In a flash, Daniel materialized some cooked Sparkhoof meat and offered it to Ibrahim wordlessly. Omar looked down at the food, gave a thin smile, and took it, nodding at Daniel:
“Thank you.”
He reciprocated, pulling out a Silverfish, which Daniel accepted as well, and they all sat down to eat. In between bites, Daniel blurted out:
“You said you were the eldest of three brothers, right Omar? What’s that like, having brothers? Jordan and I only have sisters.”
Jordan nodded happily and looked at the third man expectantly, tactfully choosing to hold back on the wisecracks. Omar gave another wan smile and went into detail about his upbringing with rowdy brothers and strict parents. Soon, they were all swapping stories about their childhoods as the storm raged around them, laughing and joking as best as they could in their little dark shelter, faces illuminated by the blue light of their Codices’ flashlight function. Eventually, they grabbed some fitful sleep, recovering as best as they could despite the racket outside.
Unbeknownst to the Pioneers, a hidden predator stalked the forest around them, oblivious to the storm.
…
2 Weeks Earlier
Deep within the jungle’s glades, on the ground amidst songbirds and tiny forest creatures, sat a small orb of dark black light. This shard of midnight sky emitted tiny rays of Stygian light, fluctuating and shifting in intensity as it sat there, an unnatural abomination juxtaposed with nature’s grandeur. It was not alone, for there were others on this distant planet, dormant seeds waiting for a signal. A signal that they would soon get.
Like a bolt out of the blue, a fundamental chord in the universe was suddenly plucked. The orb pulsed in resonance with the deep, cosmic vibration, slowly rising up and causing the animals around it to scatter. It hovered in midair, then began to shift and expand, causing a rift in reality that resembled a floating disc of dark ink. This portal to the void was completed by an outline of foreboding crimson light, and not long afterward, creatures slithered out of it. Most of them were quadrupedal, but one bipedal figure stood out amongst them, lumbering along with a commander’s swagger. The two-legged leader possessed a totally hairless, charcoal colored body, with an oddly thin midsection connecting hideously muscular legs to a similarly powerful upper torso. It was disgusting to look upon, with a large toadlike head perched in the middle of thick neck muscle, proportions unnatural and freakish. Its head was decorated with three eyes, each totally black besides a small pinprick of yellow light to serve as a pupil. The creatures mouth split open, revealing jagged ivory teeth, and it began barking orders in a guttural and incomprehensible tongue.
Immediately, the smaller four-legged creatures spread out and began hunting. One such predator ran straight south, where it soon came upon a pack of forest animals. These were not the prey that the Three-Eyed-One had tasked it with finding, so the spines on its back rippled with purple light and the hunter immediately turned invisible, cloaking itself and slipping around the obstacle with nary a hitch in its step. It glid across the forest floor, claws tirelessly eating up distance as the days and nights passed in handfuls. Occasionally it was forced to feed upon other wildlife, if only to fuel itself, but it never lingered long doing that. Then it caught the scent.
The predator had found a large river and was following it closely when it found the scent of its true prey. It immediately latched onto the scent and followed the trail carefully, eventually leading it back into the jungle. A storm had begun to roll in, peppering the creature in a monstrous downpour, but it was not deterred. The storm would mask the scent, but it knew the direction its prey was going.
It just had to follow.
Were these explanations good?
