Guide

Darkice Cave Entrance.

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Whitevale

1.

The Love Song of the Skeech Queen

Lore

[This lengthy but uncomplicated ballad sung from the point of view of the lovelorn Skeech Queen could not be more accurately titled.]
Skeech Skeech me Skeech
SKEECH Skeech Skeech love Skeech
Skeech me Skeech love
Skeech you Skeech me
Skeech dream Skeech love Skeech heart

Skeech Skeech you Skeech
SKEECH love Skeech heart Skeech
Skeech love Skeech you
Skeech me Skeech true
Skeech break Skeech heart
Skeech queen

Skeech home Skeech hearth
Skeech Skeech love Skeech you
Skeech me Skeech too
Skeech to me and you
Skeech Skeech Skeech Skeech Skeech queen
Skeech SKEECH!

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Whitevale

1.

A Marauder’s Quarterly o’ Ribald Delights

Lore

[A well-worn vintage issue of the widely read spacer’s favorite. Contents not recommended for small children, grown adults, or seniors – not that that’s ever stopped the curious from opening the book. It easily falls open to the letters page.] SCRIBBLIN’S ‘N’ MISSIVES PAGE

Dear MQToRD,
Longtime reader, first-time correspondent. Been a fan o’ yer fine publication goin’ on thirteen years, I make it, and naturally me first stop in each issue be
yon Scribblin’s ‘n’ Missives. Yet despite me fondness for the stories contained therein, I never thought the followin’ might happen to an Eeklu like me.

‘Twere the beginnin’ of another cruise, pillagin’, lootin’, and generally inducin’ mayhem out on the Fringe. Prizes’d been gettin’ a might thin, as it were, and me crew were growin’ surly when we heard the ping of an expensive-soundin’ emergency beacon. We replied usin’ one o’ the diplobots we
keep ’round for such purposes – somethin’ about me way with words tips lubbers off, it seems – and couldn’t believe our luck when we got a holo-transmission in reply.

Three o’ the comeliest beauties it were ever me pleasure to lay me peepers on flickered to life on the viewscreen, wearin’ clothin’ that made a high-cut, clingin’ mockery o’ the term space suits.

[To the surprise of the author, but most certainly not the average reader, the
ensuing erotic adventures takes several questionable turns before the female crew of the Marauder’s “prize” reveal themselves to be pirates as well. The “Ladies Luck,” as they collectively call themselves, slaughter the Marauder crew and leaving only the letter-writer alone on an escape pod after another romp that, at this point, feels tacked-on.]

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1.

The Rules of the ‘ROK

Lore

[This cover proclaims this handy guide to picking up females of all species is the work of the self-proclaimed “Sexiest Granok Alive On Nexus” – the “one and only KRAG STUDROK!”]ALWAYS. BE. CLOSING.
Ya think Krag Studrok always rocked this hard? Well, ya’d be right, pal! And that’s ’cause your buddy Krag Studrok is ALWAYS closin’ the deal! Other guys? They start slow. Get to know a lady. Show an interest. Pretend to listen to
whatever. NOT THE ‘ROK! The first words outta my mouth every time I meet a woman what ain’t met the ‘ROK is “You and me, doll. Whaddaya say?”
And I say it exactly like that. Ya get me? Ya gotta let ’em know ya got nothin’ else on your mind but THEM.

The ladies? They don’t care if ya listen or not. They don’t come up to KRAG STUDROK for the conversation, know what I’m sayin’? [As the guide continues, it becomes clear that it is not
a collection of tips so much as a long, poorly punctuated self-hagiography of the author.]

[…]

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Whitevale

1.

Night of the Squirg

Lore

[An excerpt from the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.]

“We have to hide in the ship’s hold, I reckon,” Brad said. “We done run out of places to hide.”

“And trap our damn selves?” Marklin snarled back. “Getting cornered is just shameful way to die. I say we charge the bastards. Take the fights straight to ’em.”

“You’re going to need this torch, darling,” Helena said to Brad, handing him the flaming
brand and leaning in to kiss him desperately.

Beyond the darkened windows, the squirg zombies groaned and roared, waiting impatiently for their next meal.

[…]

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1.

Dawn of the Squirg

Lore

[An excerpt from the sequel to the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.]

The Protostar facility was deathly quiet, except for the dull roar of shuffling, mumbling squirg zombies. They filled the lower floor of the shopping center, occasionally lashing out at each other or store mannequins, but otherwise ignoring the trio who watched from the upper level with bated breath.

Captain Nerik waved to get
Lieutenant Tenzo’s attention from the other side of the facility and signaled that he was descending into the pit. He motioned toward a weapons shop that appeared to have been closed when the squirg outbreak hit. If Tenzo could draw them away, Nerik indicated with hand signals, then Nerik could make it to the shop, grab an armload of ammunition and weapons, and get back before the squirg were aware.

Tenzo nodded. It wasn’t going to
be easy, Nerik thought, but they really had no choice. He nodded in return and shot a quick salute at his fellow Draken warrior. Tenzo roared at the squirg zombie mob, who turned as one and charged the lieutenant’s position.

[…]

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1.

Day of the Squirg

Lore

[An excerpt from the sequel to the sequel to the terrifying tale of undead terror and mind-controlling cephalopods.]

“I am the one in charge here, Commander! And don’t you forget it!” roared the virologist. “Only Mordesh alchemy can save this planet from being completely overrun by the squirg.”

“This planet already IS overrun, Doctor!” the Granok barked. “This world is lost. It’s Squirgville out there, population EVERYONE. Everyone
except us mercs and you eggheads.” He racked a shell into the chamber of his heavy slug launcher. “And I dunno about you, Doc, but I’m gettin’ pretty sick’a this place. Whaddaya say we blast our way outta here?”

The merc never saw the squirg that dropped from the ceiling onto his cranium, not until its tentacles latched onto his face and the tiny internal fangs punctured his stony skull to penetrate the consciousness centers of his brain. He
managed a sound like “Gyugh” before his eyes rolled back and his posture took on the unmistakable profile of a massive squirg zombie.

The doctor screamed.

[…]

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1.

Neither Death Nor Dishonor by X.P. Miscovus

Lore

[This excerpt from a popular military fiction novel depicts the do-or-die troops of the Dominion’s fictional Lost Legion, an all-volunteer lowborn “suicide squad” who carry out impossible missions on behalf of the most powerful leaders of the Dominion.]

“You picked the wrong day to attack the planet Cassus, guv,” Sergeant Stone said, chuckling as he lit stogie – a habit he’d picked up during the Seventh War of Gnox. “And y’really
shouldn’t’ve left such an easy trail to follow. Why, me and the boys just couldn’t resist. Y’think you little tree-slanks’re the only ones that can track somebody? I think you’ve hurt Bub’s feelin’s, so y’have.” He turned to the hulking lowborn Cassian private in the corner. “Ain’t that right, Bub?”

“Sure is, Stone,” Bub said on cue. “Why, me feelin’s might never recover.”

“And what do you have planned?” asked the Aurin, jutting out his chin in a sad
attempt to hide the fear that was making his tail shake like an Ophidian rattler.

“Who, us?” Stone replied said, punctuating the question with a few smoke rings blown into the prisoner’s face. “Why, we’re plannin’ nothin’ but gettin’ outta her way.” He jerked a thumb over one shoulder, and a Mechari female slipped from the shadows. Her eyes flashed with cold fire.

“Thank you, Agent,” Axis Pheydra said. “I believe I can take it from here.”
She saluted. “My best to the general.”

“As always, m’lady,” the sergeant replied.

[…]