KOR MORNE (INQUISITION)
The auroral bands gradually give way to brighter, broader streaks of light. Night fades, and with it comes the day. The volcanic black walls of Kor Morne seem just as dark as before, but this is when the city truly stirs. Apprentices emerge from their immense dormitories for their morning meditations, followed by training—arts, mathematics, philosophy, theology, and finally, combat. The brothers and all subordinates of the Inquisition maintain this functional mechanism, this city in the clouds.
Kael had a discussion with the other Grand Inquisitors of Kor Morne, much to his dismay, even in the presence of certain inquisitors or special guests whose power extends beyond their rank. The council is not anymore what it used to be.
The Inquisition is undergoing a great existential crisis, a schism that, to fully comprehend, would require lengthy explanations about its role and inner workings. But for Kael, the primary reason is visible on his medallion—a decapitated Baldakaï where the symbol of the Inquisition should normally be. It is no secret that the order's esteemed scientists and mages have long experimented with modifications, training, and even the taming of monstrous creatures. There was a time when the Archémium—the supreme authority of the Inquisition—had even ordered the capture of the dragons that took refuge in the southern Fissure forest. This project was never completed; the dragons were killed, slaughtered before the Inquisition could impose their will upon the dragon's spirit.
But no Archémium resides in Kor Morne anymore. And while the fortress may seem like a strategic point—at least from the perspective of the Kingdom of Elbak and its neighboring races—the citadel is nothing more than a minor outpost, a peripheral position. The disinterest of the leadership, of the most powerful and influential spiritual class, has turned it into a place of greater freedom. Too much freedom. Some inquisitors have dared to modify the Baldakaï.
These creatures are the terror of the whoole mountains and even beyond, true heralds of chaos. Forming nomadic hordes, possessing multiple legs, and growing to immense sizes as they age, the Baldakaï are uniquely dangerous due to their intelligence. Their spheres of death—grotesque metallic contraptions designed to crush bodies—their iron-claw grappling appendages that impale prey and drag them directly into their gaping, tusked maws, all stand as evidence of their nightmarish ingenuity.
Their society is codified, spiritually structured, and centered around massacre and human sacrifice. Their young offsprings are sent into the vast valleys of the Doléennes mountains to prove themselves. These abominations believe that human consumption is necessary for their growth.
There is no doubt that such actions from the inquisition are a deep heresy, yet the central power remains too distant, already entangled in an even greater schism over theoretical and philosophical matters—primarily due to Grand Inquisitor Samyzir’s defiance of the Archémiums. Kael, however, cannot shake the feeling of abandonment, a sentiment only intensified by the latest order from the council: “Retrieve the dragon. Alive.”
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The news of a possible upcoming conflict with the dwarves has stirred the council; the era when the Inquisition was a unified and unshakable order is decidedly over.
"Cease your sterile debates! The Archémiums have conveyed through Lady Irva, our special guest, the absolute necessity of securing the forest."
Declared a disabled inquisitor, gripping his ornately decorated and painted wheelchair.
"They foresaw the forest burning, the rain of fire before it arrived, but they never mentioned dwarves!" exclaimed one of the weaker members, a supporter of Grand Master Samizyr.
Kael gritted his teeth, the sound nearly audible in the chamber.
"I was tasked with cooperating with the humans. I WAS tasked with handling the situation, leading a scouting expedition, and assessing our material and human needs!"
Lady Irva stood up, her true position not officially acknowledged. For now, she is the direct liaison with the Archémiums, and despite her recent arrival, she is de facto the one making decisions.
"Gentlemen! Ladies! I see that matters are already in motion, without consulting me… The orders are clear: take the forest. Take the dragon. We'll move on"
Her eyes shifted for a brief moment. What is she hiding... Kael mutters to himself.
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ADMIRAL
I wake to the monotonous, artificial tone of Leia—it’s certain that much of her optional functions were lost in the crash. Before, she could imitate human moods, now she's just like any robot. That would have been nice to have some more humanity. Waking up to her is like rising as a prisoner in a penal colony, caged in rock, trapped in a peak that twists toward the sky.
And yet, I am not the one confined. Not truly.
They are here. Eighteen human creatures. I call them creatures because some—two, to be precise—have strangely pointed ears. The Elves we only see in fiction.
Despite all the alien species I have encountered in space stations, and even virtually in Imperial training simulations, I have never seen their kind before.
I feel an inexplicable urge to touch the tip of one of their ears, just to see how sharp it is. But I stop myself, feeling a strange guilt. They are so vulnerable, sprawled on crude moss beds Leia hadn’t even bothered to provide at first. I don’t know how to approach them, how to establish the first contact. Is there even a way to not seem hostile?
Yes, I must do everything to ensure they do not associate me with the robots—better yet, that they believe I am a prisoner, just like them. I have thought long and hard about it, and it seems like the best course of action.
A droid approaches me.
A grotesque, reeking costume was assembled for me overnight to mimic their attire. It is crude, rough, a poor imitation, and I already miss my uniform, but it will be sufficient. I see the metallic needle nearing the crook of my elbow, seeking a host like some desperate parasite. Then it plunges in—injecting me with a sedative. I collapse among them.
I can only pray that my lack of knowledge of their language will not be a disadvantage, that it won't seem too suspicious. If the worst comes to pass... I could always kill them. I collapse.