Official lore: Do not add to, edit, or remove any of the story, unless the official source changes.
(This is the third in a series of oral histories about the night
the Contagion broke out on the Mordesh homeworld.)
witnessed the crash of the Arovolkin. The ship came down
calamitously, but the Ekose at the helm - Captain Barbio -
brought her in without losing his co-pilot their petite
passenger, or anyone on the ground who hadn't already
turned.
I was especially grateful for that final fragment of fate. Like
little Yashka, I too had lost many people already, but unlike
her, I was not alone. My wife had, at my insistence, taken our
first dose of Everlife - the only one we could afford, to be
truthful. She was transformed within minutes. My loving
bride, a doting mother who spoiled our son at every
opportunity, tried to kill him almost immediately. I was
merely acting on instinct when I killed her. I was more
deliberate when I killed the others on the way to the ship
crash.
I don't know what I expected. An escape pod capable of escape velocity, maybe? A cache of killbots to repel the Ravenous? Instead, I found a pair of Ekose -a freighter captain and his shiphand first mate - along with little Yashka.
The next several days were a blur. The civ was a charnel house, but our little group - me, the Ekose, my son, and the girl - somehow held out The ship was largely intact serving as a surprisingly sturdy shelter against the Ravenous hordes - the ones who made it past our weapons fire.
The Arovolkin had been a weapons smuggler. An amazing
stroke of luck. But even their stock began to run dry on the
evening of the fourth day. Despite the corpses everywhere,
the number of Ravenous seemed unchanged. We wondered
if we were the last people truly alive and conscious on the
planet- or possibly the universe.
A call answered those final desperate questions just as we
loaded in the last of our ammunition. A stealth shuttle from
an Exile blockade runner was en route. They had the security
codes for passing the blockade courtesy of someone they
only identified as the Widow. Of course, I now know who it
was, and I'm amazed at her ability to organize what was left
of us before it was too late. Had she not kept the mob from
slaughtering Lazarin, let alone arranging for evacuation to the Exile Fleet the Mordesh would never have survived.
Now Yashka is grown and a soldier. My son Ulyn is a
talented alchemist Like me, their flesh is dead, but the
Vitalus keeps us going. I do not keep in touch with them as
much as I should.
I still see Captain Barbio and Mikee from time to time. They
offer to buy me drinks, but l always decline. Remembering
the hope of rescue only causes the pain of reality to sting
this cold, dead flesh. Let Grismara remember.
- Ulik Yunkev, Survivor of Grismara
Location[]
This journal is located in District Falls