Search Results
7/1/2025, 12:36:44 AM
Your hand grasps the hilt of your power sword. It feels strong, familiar, like an extension of yourself. You activate the energy field and a blue shimmer appears, hazy and waving like a flame. Making some motions through the air it crackles and hums, and you know that it will serve you well, like it has many times before. Turning the field off, it is only then that you finally begin to look around. You are in a large crater, burnt and scorched from the impact of the debris behind you. The molten metal is already cooling, though parts of the ground are still burning and smoke from the impact is everywhere. Walking to the edge, you pull yourself over the packed dirt and onto a wide field on top of a hill.
It is evening, or early morning. You cannot tell. There is a town in the distance, walled, with hazy wafts of smoke drifting into the air. The walls are made from stone, and your eyes can pick out old scars that cross it, and sections where the stone has collapsed and been reinforced by wooden palisades. Fields stretch beyond it, wet, dreary fields, rolling hills, and forests. The corrosive stain of industry that marks so many worlds of the Imperium is absent. A feudal world then. That is not good. Unless technology is being hoarded by its rulers, which is possible, you will have no way to contact the wider Imperium. You shrug. You will have to teach them then, of the empire beyond the sky. It has been done before, it will be done again, Throne willing.
You can see two riders approaching on horseback, obviously dispatched from the local town. Your helmet display buzzes, and zooms in on them. They are clothed in colourful garments, a metal breastplate over their chests, and each holding a halberd at their side, topped off by an extravagant hat. Further beyond you can see that a company of men is assembling near the gates of the town, clothed in similar, if slightly less ornate dress, and armed similarly, but obviously undisciplined given the way they meander about.
It is as you feared. These men have no advanced technology on them. You will be lucky if they have discovered the existence of gunpowder.
It is evening, or early morning. You cannot tell. There is a town in the distance, walled, with hazy wafts of smoke drifting into the air. The walls are made from stone, and your eyes can pick out old scars that cross it, and sections where the stone has collapsed and been reinforced by wooden palisades. Fields stretch beyond it, wet, dreary fields, rolling hills, and forests. The corrosive stain of industry that marks so many worlds of the Imperium is absent. A feudal world then. That is not good. Unless technology is being hoarded by its rulers, which is possible, you will have no way to contact the wider Imperium. You shrug. You will have to teach them then, of the empire beyond the sky. It has been done before, it will be done again, Throne willing.
You can see two riders approaching on horseback, obviously dispatched from the local town. Your helmet display buzzes, and zooms in on them. They are clothed in colourful garments, a metal breastplate over their chests, and each holding a halberd at their side, topped off by an extravagant hat. Further beyond you can see that a company of men is assembling near the gates of the town, clothed in similar, if slightly less ornate dress, and armed similarly, but obviously undisciplined given the way they meander about.
It is as you feared. These men have no advanced technology on them. You will be lucky if they have discovered the existence of gunpowder.
Page 1