The Technocrat War
WarderDragon

Journal penned in the Year of the God Emperor British, Sunday, May 20th 2012.

Last night, as the bell tolled seven past the noon hour, we gathered. Britannian zealots and pirates from the Eastern Isles, hunters and heretics from the Abandoned Lands, we came, lured with the promise of wealth and artifacts belonging to some ancient, long dead race. Callie, the treasure hunter and antiquities dealer responsible for leading us to Ver Lor Reg during the siege, had lost some trust amongst Britannians for the blunder, but people were still willing to wager the tomb she had witnessed was authentic, and just out of reach.

It was not long before we found ourselves in a gauntlet of death, fighting for our lives, and reminded all too well about promises that are too good to be true. As we entered the hall, confronted by clicking gears and glowing panels, a wayward hand tripped the alarm, summoning the all too living denizens of this ancient, desiccated tomb. The beings, technomancers, are the fusion of alchemical and necromantic science combined with the technologies Mondain had recovered from the stars, transhumans that combined flesh and steel. Cancerous limbs, bubbling with tumors and other unnatural deformities mingled with steel and titanium pipes, gears, and other mechanisms I cannot properly describe. The machines were accompanied by beings of pure energy, wraiths bound to these strange, unnatural predators.

Our magics and the blessings of our Immortal Lord overcame them, as dragons and the elect clashed with the eldritch race. But it is unclear how Britannia would fare under an onslaught of these …things. When all was said and done, we were left with less treasure, and more questions than answers.