Lore

I accept the gift of the Masters. I, high priest of the Thundercall Pell, do holy work here in the world. The Masters look on in glory, and are proud of our efforts.

I alone among the Thundercall have seen its power. Its potential. The Masters left it for me to find, for the Thundercall to use, for the Chosen of the Storm to change.

To become a god!

But the gifts of the Masters are not without challenges. Tests. For this Great
Work the faithful must do, we Disciples, before the Masters will allow us to rise to meet them.

The Masters call upon us to sacrifice his mortal life – and so it shall be. The greatest of us, one chosen by the Masters, shall become a god. And the wisest of us, the one called Blade-Wind, shall be the conduit that transforms the Chosen. Both shall end their mortal lives.

The power of the gods shall flow through Blade-Wind, and no other. Shaped, driven, bent to my will, the power shall infuse the Chosen, the Pell who will become a god. The Storm shall awaken within. And I, high priest of the Thundercall Pell, shall create a new god over which I shall be master!

I summon my chanters. I summon my acolytes! My sentinels, strong as the sky! Join me. Together we shall be true immortals.
We will live forever in the wind, the stars, the lightning. We thrive in the thundering heart of the Stormtalon. We unleash this gift of the gods upon this world, and rejoice!

The Talon of Storms is but the first.

Lore

I, acolyte of the high priest, write these words.

-Stone-people – Resisted the lightning. Resisted the call of thunder. Did not resist headsman’s axe.
-Humans – Consumed by primal power. No resistance. Cooked to death. Foul stench will never die.
-Gray Ones – Vile substance! Lightning burns away bone and flesh. Death follows.

-Forest-Stalkers – Touched by the power. Senses strong. Mind strong. Bodies not.
-Bird-Men – Too strong. Slaughtered many Thundercall. Destroyed by the high priest.

It is clear. Only Pell can use the Godmaker. The Masters give us the Godmaker to ready for their return. We must show them we are ready. The shell will be chosen. The god placed within. The glory will be all to the Masters.

Lore

Heed the words of the high priest,
greatest of those who call the thunder,
and stand in awe, for we beseech the Masters.
The gods of the heavens, holy wings of unforgiving light,
the Masters of All.

The great Godmaker, gift of the Masters,
awaits one worthy of the power of wind and sky.
Disciples of Air, one called by the Thunder,
one who to embrace great power,

and sacrifice in pain.

Godmaker, heed us. Godmaker, forgive us. Godmaker, guide us.
Stormtalon tears the sky. Stormtalon fears no god.
Stormtalon knows no Master but the Invoker.
What is sacrificed in pain is visited a thousandfold upon the chosen,
for Stormtalon awakens.

Lore

Congratulations on installing this multispecies health services station! We at The Institute for Multispecies Health Services know that you have a choice when it comes to finding remote health care on the perilous worlds of the Fringe, and appreciate your choosing the IMHS. IMHS Stations provide the absolute minimum in health services for over eighty-eight percent of known sapient species – and it shows.

Before using this multispecies health services station, please observe these simple safety
precautions:

1. Aim away from face, unless face was involved in injury or illness.
2. Please allow a short time for recharging between health services.
3. If health services station appears to be missing, please build a new one using available parts and tools.
4. Do not accept compliments or sign binding legal agreements with the IMHS Station AI. This behavior is a known bug and will be removed in the next version of the software.
5. Do not submerge health services station.

6. If you are a sapient species not covered by the IMHS organization’s database, we apologize for your impending permanent injury or potential demise.

NOTES
(Please use this page for notes.)

Might as well – got nothin’ else to write on. If you’ve found this, you still have a chance. Thought this was another old Eldan ruin, but turns out there’s a whole lotta ugly folk – some air Pell tribe – what are lookin’ to make themselves their own god. And I reckon they might just pull it off.
They got a whole complicated plan they been workin’ on real good now for who knows how long, and even a feller like me can see there’s a shipload of power headin’ deep into the caverns up ahead.

Of course, that ain’t gonna help me none. Managed to make it up onto this here shelf, seems safe from the blasted Pell for now. No mistake, though, they messed me up but good. Never shoulda tried to stop ’em.
The health station’s done what it could, but no health station in the galaxy can grow a feller’s foot back. Even if I could get back down there, reckon they’d tear me to pieces before I could start to hoppin’ at their general direction.

The Pell won’t know a health station manual from a hole in the Halon Ring, so before I gasp my last, know that the health station’s just in dormant mode. Conservin’ power, building up its supply of medicines and such.
Too late for me, but even if ya ain’t familiar with such things ya oughtta be able to figure it out.

No need to worry about my bones, either. Ya made it this far, ya got more important things to worry about. Hell, cave critters probably already made off with ’em anyhow.

Give ’em hell, whoever ya are.

– Andred Buckstone, Explorers Union