LotS/The Story/Assault on the Zenith/Occulus

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Occulus
The flight to Occulus passes without incident, and you approach the moon as just one ship amongst countless vessels conveying tech-worshippers to the heart of their religion.

The Princess enters the flight cabin as the ship descends towards the moon. She’s no longer wearing one of the dresses she was provided with on Capek. Instead she’s clad in combat attire. It seems an unusual costume for a diplomatic mission, but you assume that she has some purpose in mind. Perhaps she wishes to demonstrate to the Cybertollahs that her empire is at war.

A signal comes through, granting you permission to land beside the Cybertollahs’ palace. Few people are permitted into the presence of the Cybertollahs. In spite of their disdain for interstellar politics, it appears that they recognize the magnitude of the events which are being set in motion, and the importance of your request for aid.

“Worshipping technology,” grunts Ragnar, as the ship lands. “Pretty stupid if you ask me. Tech is great, but only if someone like me’s there to use it. It’s like I always say: ‘Tech doesn’t kill people. I kill people.’”

Not for the first time, you wonder why exactly Princess Illaria invited a man like Ragnar on this undertaking. You’ve seen explosions that were more diplomatic than the Niflung warrior.

When the ship lands, Telemachus stomps out of the cargo hold inside his mech. You’re about to remonstrate with him, when the Princess expresses her approval. You shrug. Perhaps she thinks the Cybertollahs will appreciate the tech it incorporates.

Bowing acolytes wearing white robes, the material decorated with equations and circuit diagrams picked out in gold thread, meet you at the landing pad. They usher you into a huge building with twelve square towers rising from its silver mass. You’re led along corridors lined with holographic displays, showing technology from countless worlds and eras. Some of the things you glimpse amongst the shifting holograms are indecipherable, complex shapes which seem to hold no particular meaning.

The acolytes lead you into a dark, lofty room. Then they leave, the door closing behind them. After a moment, lights begin to glow around the chamber’s walls. A large section of the floor in front of you, dominating the middle of the room, also lights up.

“It’s like a trashy dance club,” Talia mutters in your ear.

“Welcome, Princess of the Sian Empire,” comes a voice from above.

On a shadowy balcony overlooking the room stand two tall figures in robes, one red, the other blue. The hoods on those garments conceal their faces, and combined with the distance it makes them seem like anonymous, amorphous blobs of color. The Princess gazes up at them and bows.

“We’re honored to be in the presence of the Supreme Cybertollahs,” she says. “We have heard much of-”

“You have come here for our technology,” one of them says. Their bodies are both motionless, making it impossible to tell which of them spoke.

“Yes,” replies the Princess. You sense her momentary irritation at having her flow of diplomatic eloquence interrupted. Such ill manners would be unthinkable at the Sian court. But she conceals the emotion with practiced ease.

“And what makes you think you’re worthy of our creations?” one of the Supreme Cybertollahs asks.

“The enemy we fight is a threat to all-”

“We did not ask about your foes,” one of the Supreme Cybertollahs says. “There are many just causes across the galaxy, but we do not furnish them with our gifts. Only the worthy can be permitted to use our technology.”

“And words will never persuade you of our worth, will they?” the Princess asks.

“You are correct,” one of the Supreme Cybertollahs replies. “Fine words do not make electrons flow.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” she says. “My companions and I ask for the Trial of the Twelve.”

Trial of the Twelve? That doesn’t sound good…

Up on the balcony, the robed figures are silent. Then they give a simultaneous nod.

“Very well,” one of them says. “The trial shall begin.”

Energy barriers flicker into being around the square of illuminated floor, their surfaces adorned with shifting green symbols.

Princess Illaria turns to you.

“I talked about the customs of the Cybertollahs with Orben,” she says. “I thought it might come to this.”

“What’s the Trial of the Twelve?” you ask.

“Trial by combat,” she replies.

“Ha!” laughs Ragnar. “Was wondering why you brought me along to this techno-dump. Sounds like my kind of trial.”

“And that’s why you told me to get in my mech,” says Telemachus.

“Shooting things until you get what you want sounds like the kind of diplomacy I can get behind,” says Talia, twirling her pistols.

One on One

The green symbols on the energy field turn red, like freshly spilled blood. At the far side of the glowing floor a black-robed figure appears. He moves through the barrier, which shimmers in his wake, and strides into the middle of what must be the combat area. Green symbols dance on the surface of his robe, their designs resembling those on the barriers around him.

“The sequence must be observed,” says one of the Supreme Cybertollahs. “The numbers govern all. Send in your first.”

Battle Royale

The Cybertollah collapses, and your companions raise a cheer from either side. He lies groaning on the ground, the sound accompanied by a strange whirring noise from under his robes. You realize that it’s being made by a damaged cybernetic system. The symbols on the Cybertollah’s robes flash once more, before flickering out of existence, leaving only black cloth in their wake.

Two acolytes in white robes appear from the dark recesses of the room, and run onto the glowing floor, the green barrier parting before them. The field closes in their wake.

The acolytes bow to you. Then one grabs the fallen Cybertollah under his armpits, the other takes hold of him by his feet, and they whisk him away. As they reach the barrier with their burden, the field opens once more. As they pass through, it closes behind them again.

Two more figures in similar attire to the defeated Cybertollah emerge from a doorway, and take up positions opposite you, just outside the barrier. The symbols turn red, and they slip inside. On your right, Princess Illaria does the same. The moment she passes through, they’re green once more – barring entry to the others.

“Two and two,” say both Cybertollahs, their voices creating a strange, almost electronic harmony. “The sequence must be observed.”

One of them advances on the Princess, the other towards you. Just before you join battle, you see her leaping through the air, her boot catching her opponent square in the face.

Tripple Threat

The Cybertollah in front of you falls onto his knees, revealing Princess Illaria behind him. She gives him one more kick for good measure, catching him in the side of the head. He hits the floor with a noise containing both the thump of meat and the clank of metal, and lies motionless. She nods with satisfaction.

“The education of a Sian princess,” she says with a smile. “It has its uses.”

Four acolytes scurry onto the glowing floor. They give a synchronized bow, grab up the fallen Cybertollahs, and carry them away.

Three more robed figures appear outside the barrier.

“I’m next! Me!” yells Telemachus, as the barrier turns red and the fresh Cybertollahs enter. “I… Hey!”

“Sorry, kid,” grunts Ragnar, as the barrier turns green behind him. “But look on the bright side – you have a whole lifetime ahead of you to smash things in.”

“Three and three,” say the Cybertollahs. “The sequence must-”

Their litany is interrupted as Ragnar rushes into them. You wince as you hear a crunch, the sound of bones breaking against his surgically enhanced body. Then you wade into the melee.

Techno Brawl

Six acolytes run through the barrier to clear the combat area. One bumps into Ragnar from behind, and in the blink of an eye the Niflung warrior spins round and levels him with a punch.

“Sorry,” he grunts, as he gazes down at the unconscious acolyte. “Force of habit.”

Three more acolytes run from the shadows. Two carry off their downed comrade, casting a wary glance at Ragnar as they do so. The other helps remove the remaining Cybertollah.

Given the way things have gone up till now, you’re not surprised when four robed figures assemble outside the barrier. It turns red, and they enter.

“Hey! That’s not fair!”

You look over, and see Talia slipping through the barrier. The field turns green just as Telemachus’ mech steps into it, and it reverberates – the unexpected force causing the mech to stagger backwards and fall onto its butt. Telemachus gives an angry yelp of protest.

“Smooth, Tel,” says Talia. “Real smooth.”

“Four and four,” chorus the Cybertollahs. “The sequence must be observed.”

Supreme Cybertollahs



“So…” says Talia, as eight acolytes begin to clear away the defeated Cybertollahs. “First there was one. Then two. Then three. Then four. That makes ten. Which means…”

Your gaze follows hers, up to the balcony. It’s empty.

“Yes,” says the Princess. “The Supreme Cybertollahs will be our final opponents.”

“Good,” says Ragnar. “The small ones didn’t put up much of a fight.”

A door slides open a short distance away from the glowing floor, and two large robed figures approach, one in blue, one in red. Now that they’re so close, in light rather than shadow, you see just how unnatural they are. The red one is absurdly thin, his movements almost snake-like. The blue one is stocky, but the strange shifting under his robe is far removed from the movement of normal human muscles. And their faces… The Cybertollahs worship technology, and it appears that they’ve sacrificed much of their humanity in its pursuit.

The barrier turns red, and they both step through it.

“All right!” says Telemachus, as his mech does the same. “Finally!”

“Two and all,” says one of the Supreme Cybertollahs. The voice seems as if it could have come from either of them. Even now that they’re right in front of you, you still can’t tell which of them is speaking. “The sequence must be observed.”

Then their hands begin to glow…



The Supreme Cybertollahs twitch on the ground, exposed cybernetic systems sparking and hissing. Telemachus stands above the blue-robed one, his laser-edged chainsaw whirring, and moves as if to drive it into the supine body.

“No!” cries the Princess. “We need them to help us, remember?”

“Oh, yeah!” says Telemachus. He presses a button inside his cockpit, and the chainsaw blade deactivates. “Sorry. Forgot.”

The red one manages to struggle up into a sitting position.

“Our technology was defeated. You are worthy,” he says. Then his torso slumps to the ground again.

Over a dozen acolytes approach the barrier, which disappears entirely now. They lift the Supreme Cybertollahs, their movements slow and reverent this time, and carry them off. One of the acolytes doesn’t share the burden. Instead he remains, and bows to your group.

“The object you desired will be delivered to a place of your choosing. May technology illuminate your path.”



When you return to Capek, along with a transport containing the Cybertollahs’ device, you’re greeted by the sight of a fleet of ships emblazoned with the TALOS emblem. The forces have been assembled, and now stand prepared for the attack.

There are mighty cruisers amongst the host, looming above the smaller craft like great leviathans. Squadrons of fighter ships hold orbit around them, like shoals of minnows keeping pace with whales. As you approach the planet you catch sight of transport ships, each one harboring squads of robots ready to storm the Zenith.

It’s going to be one hell of a battle…