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Ken
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Contact Us:
General
Family Album
Holiday Diaries
Andy
Amateur Radio
Archery
Computing
Professional Details
Role Playing
Art Narrative (MGH)
Ken
Tom
Trudi
The words and artwork on this page have been prepared and created by Mark Hirst. Full information and additional examples of his work can be found on his website.
The origins of the narrative were inspired by a few of the early pictures and reminisences of our role playing college days. Now tempered by more recent science fiction offerings the orignal worlds of Marks Traveller™ creation see life some 20 or so years since we adventured there in this continuing storyline. The cycle is now complete as the storyline serves as an inspiration for the artwork which originally spawned the story.
Do you remember the thrill of opening birthday presents as a kid?
We were all kids that day when we signed for a brand new XM-64 Exploration Vehicle, resplendent in its factory finish. The first ten minutes was spent ripping off the "do not remove" stickers that covered every door, window and port.
How naive we were that day, believing the training vids and the promises of adventure, unaware that in five days time, we would be fighting for our lives on the hell hole of Hycaron II...
-- Cyana Bristo, Mission Specialist.
Imagine the surprise in any nascent star faring culture when it discovers that aliens on other worlds are not only human too, but genetically compatible.
Imagine this pattern repeated across a myriad of worlds.
Imagine the stark and chilling archaelogical evidence that protohumans had been taken from a single world and "planted" across the galaxy by a long extinct alien race, a culture that wielded unimaginable power and engineering on a planetary scale, a culture destroyed by some outside agency.
Hycaron II bears the terrible scars of that destruction. Somewhere on this barren world, we thought we would find answers...
-- Cyana Bristo, Mission Specialist.
The Treem were promised prosperity in return for access to their world.
Whilst trade came to their world, it was merely a staging post for other races. A convenient location between long jumps on the sparse starmaps at the edge of the Imperium.
They were soon seduced by the dreams of instant wealth and happiness perpetrated by the 3D stations and the gleaming chromium of the starport.
They neglected their fields and animals and came to the city. The bright future soon faded and they drifted into the townships around the landing field, discovered alcohol, and sold their dreams for small desires.
In a generation or so, they will have lost their culture and the ability to survive alone. In time, the trading combines will move on to other opportunities and the Treem will have nothing.
It is on this wretched world that we hope to find work and to elude our pursuers...
It is already too late to contain the darkness. Now we can only direct the forces that the lesser humans have unwittingly uncovered.
Once more, we move amongst the rabble, leaving rumour and portents in our wake. Our task, to wrest from them the stewardship of ancient secrets and power they are not yet qualified to wield.
The Clan Mothers say it is a time of prophecy and uncertainty.
One thing is certain. The Dark Sister will have a rich harvest of souls...
-- Initiate Alisandra, daughter of Hybritta, daughter of Karaenia, serving aboard the Lazloi explorer ship, The Screaming Fist.
The Solomani hypothesis states that the many human cultures of known space originated on Terra and were taken to their worlds by a race known as the Ancients.
The origins of the Lazloi however, are somewhat complicated. Whilst undoubtedly human in origin, their unparalleled longevity, immunity from disease, white hair and deeply modified genetic code suggests another alien intervention in prehistoric times.
Whilst their technology appears on a par with the Imperium, stories about 'supernatural' powers persist. The authorities do not regard them as a threat however, as they are so small in numbers.
Since they rarely venture into mainstream society, the sighting of a Lazloi ship is cause for comment. The superstitious say that they only appear in troubled times.
For those that believe in such stories, the arrival of the Lazloi merchant cruisers, The Screaming Fist, The Queen of Shadows, and The Silver Wheel is a deeply troubling precedent.
The Treem are bringing their sick and infirm to touch the strange white alloy of the ships. Even the human population that inhabits the townships has begun praying, describing them as angels...
-- Jai Houdri, Correspondent for the Candor Intersolar News Service.
The sun beats down on my head... I'm feeling colder now...
I thought I remembered... Remembered what happened... It's getting hazy...
I remember crying, screaming... Screaming like a girl...
Something came into the APC, like a mist, something... Something I don't want to think about... Blood, so much blood... The stench, our blood... My blood...
How can you kill what you can't see!
I killed the fusion reactor, so of course we crashed. But it stopped them, saved my life... For a while...
Out of ammo now... The scavengers will be back soon... Back for the rest of me...
-- Sergeant Carly Ambrakh, Antigrav APC pilot, sole survivor of Platoon B, Black Eagles Battalion, assigned to Hycaron II.
Nobody would be mad enough to go up against the Brotherhood, no one except Siandyha Rhand.
The cult of Ankhn doesn't take kindly to those who oppose their plans, so to take something they covet from under their noses takes a special kind of insanity.
Only the mysterious Lazloi thwart the Brotherhood with impunity, the ancient power of the Lazloi give even megacorporations pause for thought.
The Brotherhood could be just another doomsday sect, its predictions of a great extinction, its interest in ancient artefacts and civilisations, and a ruthless code of secrecy, if it wasn't funded by Big Money.
Paid for politicians, mercenaries and starships all need money, lots of money. Money like that must believe in the outcome, must want it, must demand it.
I only met Rhand once, a year ago in a bar on Seven Sisters. I knew then that there was something ominous about her, the quiet voice, the paranoia, her prescience, and the spell she cast over those around her, especially Tara Alessia, her fractured lover.
One year ago, when I was meeting her to negotiate a deal.
Now I will meet Rhand as the Brotherhood's representative, to punish her with their unique and shocking brand of retribution, and then later, to extinguish what remains of her wretched life...
-- Phylo Bramlin, assassin and torturer, currently under contract.
Your assassin is dead, Tara and I are safe.
Did you really think that I came here out of naivety, that I had gone mad, or thought you would offer me clemency?
I came here to destroy you.
You thought you'd found the ideal tool to further your ends. A young captain with her own ship, prepared to run blockades and carry cargoes, so ignorant of your plans.
I came to you, fools. I came to you because your objectives were mine.
The Blueprint is in my hands and Cyana Bristo is safe, there will be no trade, no bargaining, and no compromises.
You believe that you know the ancient terror that hides on Hycaron II, that you can control it. You believe that this makes you powerful.
You also believed that lack of action by the Lazloi was weakness, you believed you could act against us with impunity. This was your most fatal mistake.
By now you will have scanned my ship and realised that it is not what it seems, you now know that it contains much that you do not understand. My dealings with the Lazloi has gained me many gifts, one that I give to you now...
-- Final communiqué to the island enclave of the Brotherhood, minutes before its annihilation.
