Burzok S Mercenary Handbook

This is a work of fiction.
Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places,

events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 Alain Gruetter, Robert Wood-Peters, Ollie Schirmacher, Logan Stahl
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

or used in any manner without the prior written permission of the copyright owner,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-0-578-93992-6
Edited by Robert Wood-Peters

Cover design by Ollie Schirmacher
Layout by Ollie Schirmacher
Cover and interior art by Alain Gruetter, Ollie Schirmacher, and Logan Stahl
Printed in China.
CONTENTS
INTRO 6
FREEBOOTER 8
HUNTRESS 12
PUPPETMASTER 16
DEADEYE BONDED 20
SWORD SAINT 24
FAR RANGER 28
VOIDFIGHTER 32
FORGEBREAKER 36
RIFTSEEKER 40
GREENHORN 44
VANGUARDSMAN 48
DEATH ORB 52
SLIPSPACE TROUBADOR 56
LOCKBREAKER 60
THE BARON 64
PRIME DUELIST 68
PSYCHO-RONIN 72
ETERNAL STARBEAST 76
THE HONORED 80
EMISSARY 84
MOONSTALKER 88
INFILTRATOR 92
VENOMSMITH 96
HAPLESS COMRADES 100
ABOUT BURZOK 105

GLOSSARY 106
Greetings, valued customer. You hold in your hands the 56th printing of Burzok’s
Mercenary Handbook. The Burzok Foundation has remained a family-owned institution
for twelve generations, and this has been my tenth cycle as the steward of its fortunes. A
special introduction seems in order.
Through this decacycle, we have seen much change in the wider galaxy: uprisings,
assassinations, border reaving and full blown interstellar conflict. Although many
kingdoms and empires claim the title of Pax Imperia, daily life seems as uncertain and
dangerous as it has ever been outside of their capital borders. Even if I might not be
much more than a scout of talent and maker of deals, I believe that through books such
as this I have made my mark on a turbulent time, bringing help to those in need for a
nominal fee.
These pages contain some of the finest professionals in the burgeoning field of Applied
Force; many of whom I’ve had the pleasure to meet personally. No matter how small
or insurmountable a job may seem to be, I believe this volume may aid you in finding a
reliable partner suitable to the task.
Contained within are pictorials, location registries, contact information, details of
prior service, behavioral patterns, personal histories, and the equipment codices for a
trove of registered and certified Applied Force Agents. They are presented in a pleasant
arrangement for your perusal. We’ve also included several points of advice to facilitate
smoother relations for any prospective employer. This catalog has been an institution
of the Foundation for almost six decacycles now, and I would like to personally assure
the quality and accuracy contained within to you, on the honor of my family name. The
agents within have been thoroughly vetted by the researchers of the Burzok Foundation
and all records are entirely accurate, according to the resources available to my firm. We
have yet to issue a single refund for this publication, and I have done everything in my
power to ensure the edition for this cycle will keep that tradition unbroken.
As a new decacycle draws close we take stock of our galaxy and find it embroiled in
turmoil from arm to arm. The ranks of adventurers entering the field of Applied Force
swell, filling the needs and answering the pleas of citizens and star-roamers alike. To the
many fearful of disruption, craving security, requiring watchful eyes and honest counsel,
calling out for hunters or trackers alike, I offer this catalog in lieu of my personal hand.
It has served many throughout the cycles, and we wish it serves you well in the here and
now. My most sincere hope is that with the aid of any of the talented personages enclosed
within, your perilous journey through our stars is rendered a far easier one.
- Maximillian Burzok, Trade-Lord of the Twelfth House
6
FREEBOOTER: SKLLD ‘TCK TZTACK
ALIASES Old Six Blade

Aspirion-era Executioner’s Blade, “Mauler” Fletchette
WEAPONS Pistol, Looted Voidrunner Dao, various others
The Taking of Bellevue 245, The Battle of Aspirion’s
PRIOR CONTRACTS Gate, The Grey Rock Ambush, Calcyon Incorporated’s
Warprunner Heist, The Sap of Port-Castille Hyacinth
8
Close quarters specialist with ample experience in micro-gravity
skirmishes and hijacking operations.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Sklld ‘tck Tztack operates out of an abandoned black-flag battlecruiser hidden deep in the
asteroid fields of the Mothallahn Reaches. Beacon coordinates for safe passage through this
field are provided by the Burzok Foundation upon contract acceptance.
CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS
Sklld accepts all major trade currencies but offers a discount rate for physical payment.
Ancient metal coins, smelted gold-ingots, and Pyroconic barter-totems are preferred. As a
collector of fine and quality weaponry, Sklld has a history of accepting dangerous contracts in
exchange for exemplary examples of armscraft. Due to a preference of Sklld’s, all employers
must either meet in person or send an empowered representative to the Mothallahn Reaches
instead.
HISTORY ON FILE
Sklld ‘tck Tzack is a rare representative of a species not seen often anymore. In cycles long
past, large Sekrelki hive clusters rode on the stellar winds into new sectors where they would
harvest resources and trade with local cultures they came into contact with. It is into one of
these clusters that Sklld was born, a member of the sexless worker caste. Lacking the bulk of
warrior Sekrelki, and not meant for the luxury of the pampered breeding drones, Sklld was
destined for a simple and honest life, mining and processing ores brought back into the
cluster as it passed by planets and asteroid belts. Despite the monotony of such a life, any
Sekrelki was likely to see more of the galaxy and travel it longer than most other known
species, owing to their uniquely lengthy life cycle and incredible resilience.
Unfortunately for Sklld however, a bio-genetic research breakthrough swept through the
galaxy with destructive results for the wandering species. Desperate for access to Sekrelki
blood and armor plating for experimentation, and lacking legitimate sources at quantity,
unscrupulous biotechnology firms hired poachers and pirates to hunt the wandering clusters
wherever they were found, reasoning that Sekrelki were numerous enough to withstand
the losses of a few clusters. Spread across an entire galaxy and hundreds of open, unlimited
bounties however, and the trend was devastating. In a few decaycles the thousands of once
free hive clusters had been reduced by attrition to a few dozen, and Sklld’s cluster was not
among those spared the carnage.
When the pirate band known as Harrow’s Harpooneers pulled alongside the hive cluster
near the Leonis system, Sklld was only a few cycles old. A newborn in Sekrelki society, they
had not yet been assigned full work duty and were watching the even younger hatchlings in
the deep nursery when the first boarding boats breached the fragile shell of the outer hive.
As dangerous as adult Sekrelki can be in defense of their homes, clusters unaccustomed to
modern energy weapons were easy prey for the Harpooneers. Captain Harrow himself led the
charge into the center nursery after organizing the slaughter of the outer bands of the hive.
Easily dispatching the few veteran soldier Sekrelki left to guard the inner chambers, Harrow
was surprised by a young hatchling throwing themself against his boot and trying to tear
through it. Easily kicking Sklld off, Harrow’s crew began capturing the immobile, larval
pupa around the chamber and prepared them for shipment to corporate installations around
the galaxy. Harrow himself leveled his blaster against the hatchling’s head, aiming to finish
the job with proper finality, but some new desire stayed the hardened captain’s hand. Perhaps
he wished for an exotic pet, or perhaps he recognized an unusual willpower seething through
the hatchling’s carapace. Captain Harrow had Sklld’s limbs bound and the hatchling taken
9
back on board along with the rest of the plunder. In this quick and brutal raid, Sklld ‘tck
Tzack had been rendered the sole survivor of their whole broodline, the captured larva sold
to unethical corporate firms and destroyed, a dishonor still remembered with shame
around a Star Core Alliance too distracted to stop the trade.
Reduced to a galley steward serving at Captain Harrow’s pleasure, Sklld weathered the
abuse of the mercurial pirate captain as best as they could, eventually losing a limb to one of
the captain’s fits of pique. Growing stronger with every molt-cycle, Sklld was also learning,
taught by the rest of the crew. Finding them kinder then the abusive captain and perhaps
seeking a replacement for a brood now long-lost, Sklld spent their free time fraternizing with
the lower ranks, learning the languages and customs of the crew: dancing, swearing, drinking,
fighting, and gaining the respect of their peers as they did.
In time Sklld aged, growing in height and strength, with a hide that became too armored
for Captain Harrow to meaningfully wound when he was in a foul mood. Sklld became
bold. Taking on more responsibilities around the vessel, Sklld began leading raiding parties
and recruiting allies among the crew that were loyal to them, not the captain- A new brood
of Sklld’s own. During a particularly dire sailing season where Harrow led the fleet in
botched raid after botched raid, taking on tremendous casualties for little gain, Sklld took
their chance. Leading the crew of the Harpooneer flagship, Blooded Baron, in an expertly
organized mutiny, Sklld personally stormed the bridge after gaining control of the rest of the
ship and beheaded Captain Harrow in a pitched duel. Now in command, Sklld led the new
‘Bloody Brood’ with a deft and compassionate hand, being fondly remembered by their own
crew as a modest captain who viewed themself as simply the first among equals.
The Bloody Brood quickly earned a reputation as one of the most daring and notorious
of the great pirate outfits. In lightning-speed strikes against interstellar cargo vessels
Sklld earned the nickname that would follow them for the rest of their career: “Old Six
Blade”. Having survived for dozens of molting cycles, Sklld’s carapace was so reinforced that
concentrated gunfire had difficulty putting a dent in it, and Sklld’s combat style evolved
into a whirling maelstrom of weapons swung dexterously in each hand, a true terror to any
overconfident marine in the cramped corridors of the unlucky freighters that Sklld called
prey.
From the exotic booty of thousands of worlds Sklld and the Bloody Brood grew wealthy,
and the fleet swelled with new recruits and the raising of new vessels. For generations, Sklld
terrorized shipping lanes from the bridge of the Blooded Baron, but with the passage of time
came the loss of old friends. Sekrelki don’t age as most species do, simply becoming larger and
tougher with each molting cycle. Before Old Six Blade’s eyes, the comrades they played cards
with, learned the old stellar shanties from, and laughed
over drink with grew weaker, slower, more grey. Supporting these comrades as best as they
could even in retirement, Sklld made sure to visit
the old crew and tell stories of the glory days
long into the night when on leave. As the cycles
continued to roll onward, even Sklld’s cherished
port visits became rare, all of the old crew members
crossing that final threshold into the unknown,
leaving Sklld the last of a brood all over again.
A change came over Sklld, a melancholy that
seized their many hearts in a tight grip and slowed
their sword arm. Allowing the veteran captain
to pick a successor, Sklld ‘tck Tzack was gently
nudged into an honorable retirement. Gifted
the Blooded Baron as a parting gift, Sklld was left
behind as the Bloody Brood continued into the
10
the star lanes, an outfit that remains one of the Star Core Alliance’s more persistent threats.
Maneuvering the Baron into the middle of the Mothallahn Reaches, for decacycles Sklld
wandered the empty halls alone. A ghost ship of no small repute, it is rumored the Blooded
Baron is still full of the choicest pieces of treasure Sklld ever collected. For Sklld however,
what is more precious is all of the photographs, the letters, the carved messages and the
rooms full of memories. From deep within the Baron’s hold a sorrowful Sklld now seeks thrill,
perhaps to drive away this loneliness. To the benefit of any employer, foes hoping the lengthy
mood has softened the veteran fighter will be sorely disappointed. Old Six Blades strikes as
quick and true as any legend from out of the pages of history, a legend at your disposal for the
right price.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Interview with Midshipman Cabrillo

MC: “You don’t get it, we didn’t see anything with the power cut and the smoke
everywhere and emergency lights flashing”
Officer On Duty: “Company protocol dictates during unplanned boarding all

associates are to access the nearest defense cache and defend the vessel. Why
did your detail fail to follow protocol?”
MC: “You weren’t there! That thing was. That thing was already there! It was there
at the cache before us. We drew sidearms. We formed the fireteam. We followed
company protocol, gave the demand of surrender, and then when the lights cut
out again it wasn’t there anymore.”
O: “Incompetence is not an excuse for-”
MC: “It wasn’t there, then we heard the crunch of steel as it fell behind us! You
could only see it move in the light, and all you heard was that crunch when it
walked. Then the screams started. There was too much blood. We opened fire as
best as we could but you couldn’t see through all that blood. Do you know how
many shots we fired?”
O: “I’m the one asking questions during this debrief-”
MC: “I took 3. Point blank. Direct Hit. Heavy Percussion Bolt Pistol. Bounced right
off its skin or whatever it had and then it took my arm off and I didn’t even feel it.
Can you believe that? It happened so fast. So fast.”
O: “Cabrillo, I-”
MC: “You weren’t there.”
11
HUNTRESS: VAUNA CARR
ALIASES The Pack from Clear River

Handheld Sonic Wave Generator, Minxian Survival Blade,
WEAPONS C/A-AT Flare Launcher
The Capture of Robber Gang Reticula, The Taking of Traitorous
PRIOR CONTRACTS Trade-Lord Zestulon, The Retrieval Of Calcyon Incorporated
Heiress K From Hive Den Deimos, The Recovery of Lost Explorer
Jay H. Jabbersaw From The Aether Reach
12
Extraordinary tracker and master handler of the native Git-Hound bioform, can closely
follow targets throughout entire star systems and bring them back alive.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
The Burzok Foundation is proud to be the sole agency authorized to negotiate contracts for
the services of Vauna Carr. As Vauna spends much of her free time in an unregistered sector
of space, please allow for communication delays during negotiation. The Burzok Foundation
is bound by policy to keep the location of this sector undisclosed, and travel delay for
messengers must be considered. The Burzok Foundation recommends preparing all relevant
information for the contract ahead of time to decrease the duration of these processing
periods.
Vauna foregoes contracts that deal in interstellar currencies and accepts trade in rare
flora instead. Specimens in good health or with unique aesthetic properties are prioritized.
Employers should provide any personal effects of the target that they have available via direct
hyper-speed courier to ensure a quick contract completion.
HISTORY ON FILE
Vauna Carr once enjoyed a promising career scouting uncharted sectors for an independent
reconnaissance outfit. Detailing and cataloging the plant and animal life she came across as
part of a small team of like-minded adventurers, Vauna relished the thrill of discovering and
studying native life yet unknown to corporate researchers, and trusted her team to watch her
back as she did so. While many corporate operatives would try to purchase the information
and coordinates collected by her team under the table, none of Vauna’s crewmates ever fell
to the temptation. That level of dedication was hard to find in such an underpaid field, and
Vauna hoped her team would run together for a long time.
When the unmarked freighter pulled out of the void in an intercept position in what was
supposed to be an unmarked sector, Vauna’s team was cool and professional. Keeping their
distance, they broke off from their course and prepared to broadcast warning sigils on the
wide-bands. They were not ready for the freighter to shed its cover-skin and open fire with
hidden rail-artillery. Suffering heavy damage from the surprise attack, the crew still managed
to pull off evasive maneuvers to lose their mysterious pursuer in the nebula clouds clustered
densely mid-sector. With life support and maneuver drives failing, the decision had to be
made to attempt a landing on the closest habitable planet to perform extensive stabilization
maintenance for the return trip home. Even if this journey was a wash, there was always
another one around the corner as long as they got back in one piece. Vauna herself made
emergency repairs to the outer hull to prepare for re-entry.
With the last of their thruster fuel, the approach angle had been locked in. Relaxing in her
suit near the rear of the cargo bay, Vauna was hardly able to react when the shock wave roared
through her eardrums and the vessel tore itself to pieces in the upper atmosphere. The cargo
bay had been shorn off and jettisoned from the wreck. As she fell at terminal velocity among
the crates and storage containers, staring in shock at the ruin and debris of what was once her
home among the stars, Vauna Carr felt the fatal guilt that comes with knowing the fault lay
with her. She was the one who made the decision to plaster over the dud railgun shell buried
too deep in the hull to extract but not deep enough to pierce through. She had hoped the
set-crete fluid would keep it inert since proper removal would be too time consuming, but she
knew now that it must have ignited with the heat of re-entry in the atmosphere. For Vauna,
the black sleep that came with the crushing impact of the cargo section impacting the planet
surface was a mercy.
13
When she woke the pain wasn’t immediate. With all her limbs intact and the suit
compressing and sealing any contusions or bleeding, she wouldn’t know about the multiple
fractures until she took her first tentative step and collapsed in agony. Crawling out of what
little remained of the cargo bay, Vauna emerged into a verdant river valley lit by a sliver of a
silver moon. Sitting by the cool riverside, the chill cutting through her suit, her chances of
rescue seemed too scant to consider. Vauna fell to despair. She didn’t hear the first Hound
until it was beside her. Armored and powerful, it brought to Vauna’s mind the Neptunian
Git-Hound, a sleek pack animal used for tracking and descended from ancestors long lost
to forgotten star-maps. This Hound was larger around the torso and more imposing, and
despite having the characteristic dopey stare of the modern, traded breed, there was unusual
intelligence behind its gaze. As if in empathy, it gently placed one of its talons on her shoulder
and then curled up next to her, watching the moon pass by the sky. For some reason Vauna
felt her pain lift slightly, and with clear thought returning, she could vaguely recall some
long-ago heard factoid about Git-Hounds and how poorly understood the mechanics of
their communication were. As the sliver-moon reached its apex, dozens more of the hounds
emerged from the brush and piled around Vauna until she was surrounded by them. As the
warmth shared by the Hounds spread through her, she thought idly about the materials she
would need to make a splint for her broken leg. Vauna slept soundly.
Even now, Vauna isn’t quite sure why this pack of wild hounds imprinted on her. Perhaps
her grief and despair engendered some innate comfort response native to the species. Perhaps
these hounds, the descendants of ones originally befriended by Neptunian traders, still
had some cultural memory of those days of play with advanced life forms. In time, Vauna’s
connection to her Git-Hounds would become greater than that of any known master-
handler, and by her own reckoning it is thoughts themselves that are shared between her and
the hounds and that allows her to track and follow any quarry with such ease. At that moment
however, under the canopy of the Clear River Valley, Vauna felt peace for a time and that was
enough for her.
Vauna took rest for several minicycles, nurtured by the pack who assisted in collecting the
root vegetables and herbs she needed for sustenance and treatment. As she healed she began
taking trips further out from the crash site with
her new pack, salvaging what few supplies survived
in the sealed crates and canisters of the cargo bay.
With their excellent noses and keen senses the
Git-Hounds were able to lead Vauna to every
other piece of major wreckage scattered across
the continent, and tragically- the remains of all
of her long-time comrades. Collecting the bodies
and burying them as best as she could, Vauna
felt closure even if the guilt over her mistake still
remained.
It took many cycles for Vauna Carr and the
Pack from Clear River to collect enough salvage
from the crash sites to restore one of the shuttle
14
craft carried in the spine of the wrecked ship to working order. When she re-appeared in the
mercenary scene, taking contracts in exchange for rare plants instead of interstellar currency it
caused a small stir. When she began bringing in bounty after bounty with unnatural ease and
solving missing persons cases long thought cold with the aid of her ruthlessly persistent Git-
Hounds, she became a sensation. Refusing to give out the location of the still hidden planet
she makes her home base, Vauna might seem a profiteer, simply protecting her monopoly
on the rare breed of hound she rediscovered. Ask her however, and a more noble intention
is revealed: In a quiet grove not far from a cold and clear river lie five well tended graves,
surrounded by an expansive ring of exotic flowers collected from all over the galaxy. In this
valley these beloved deceased rest in eternal peace, surrounded by natural beauty, and Vauna
Carr intends to keep it that way.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Info-net Article Excerpt: Neptunian Git-Hounds: Geniuses or Just the

Dumbest Bioforms Around?
As any well read pet-lover knows, the Neptunian Git-Hound is renowned galaxy-
wide for its working drive and intelligence. Capable problem solvers with their
own rich language of barks, chirps, and whistles, in packs the Git-Hound finds
ample employment as a tracker extraordinaire. However, as any master-trainer
who actually deals with them on a cycle to cycle basis knows, they are one of the
oddest creatures around. Stubborn and sometimes remarkably stupid, this bioform
has so many eccentric quirks that handlers are often driven batty just trying to deal
with them. Here are a few of my favorite write-in stories, submitted by my column’s
regular readers.
Githrax, Halcyon Sector - “I’m just trying to train these things to keep track of
my company’s log-slates for security purposes, simple job, right? But when I have
them around the office sometimes they will just stop and stare at a corner of the
ceiling for entire minicycles, never moving, all at the same time. It’s the creepiest
darn thing I’ve ever seen and they only stop if you open a tube of primo nutrient
paste to snap them out of it.”
Hannah Stilworth, Orion Sector -“My Gits have taken to playing a real mean
game with my crew. Exposing their belly for their usual rubs, they’ll suddenly hop
up and bounce off the head of anyone unfortunate enough to lean over and take
them up on their offer. If you’ve seen how big an adult Git-Hound can get you can
imagine how often this leads to my fellow trainers falling face first into the dirt,
painfully. I think the Gits are laughing about it too, they all rapidly click together
every time somebody falls for it.”
Rion Redstar, Ursus Beta Sector - “it wont stop licking its own eye help please
help what is wrong with my hound??????”
15
PUPPETMASTER: LAR WOR LISH
ALIASES Lady Lar, Trade-Baroness Lish

Custom Made Las-Shot Target Pistol with Toxin Injection
WEAPONS System, “The Persuasion”
The Defection of Science Prince Korshalhem to the Frozen Reaches, The
PRIOR CONTRACTS Poisoning of the Holonet Industry Awards 300th Cycle Anniversary Gala,
The Dissolution of The Proto Secundus Heavy Manufacturers Alliance,
The Divorce of Her Royal Majesty, The Over-Queen of Sector Greenwent
16
A master manipulator with a trained talent for suggestion and a powerful mind-altering toxin of her
own design, Lar backs up social infiltration skills with skilled marksmanship. An excellent choice for
corporate espionage work and assassination.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Lar Wor Lish resides at her palatial estate in the lush countryside of Aldhanab Primus.
Prospective clients are encouraged to make time for at least a short visit to tour the grounds
and discuss business matters in a leisurely and relaxed setting. Priority contracts are available
but must be exchanged through a private contact line with an on-site representative who will
negotiate in your stead, an extra service fee will be added to your total.
Lar accepts all standard interstellar trade currencies. Despite being known for her high
class contracts, Lar offers highly variable rates that depend mainly on the means of the client
negotiating. Contracts have been accepted for as few as five Imperial Quidpieces while the
upper ceiling for contract scale can reach into the millions of credits. Lar Wor Lish requires
all employers to provide a small genetic sample of skin, scale, slime, hair, or horn before the
contract is finalized. This clause is non-negotiable.
HISTORY ON FILE
A lifelong socialite, Lar Wor Lish learned early the proper means and methods of flattery,
etiquette, and politely prying people for their long-held secrets. As the only daughter of a
distinguished and fabulously wealthy Trade-Baron, Lar had ample opportunity to practice
these skills during the many balls, parties, and social gatherings she was required to attend as
an accessory to showcase her father’s affluence further. The finest education that could be had
was hers, and she was always wrapped in the most exquisitely engraved body cases, armored
and bejeweled to protect her true, worm-like, body in style. Lar never wanted for expensive
clothing, fast hover cars, or devoted servants to take care of her every need. Lar was also
exceptionally and eternally bored.
Lar hated the parties most of all. Despite being enthused to meet and converse with some
of the galaxy’s most interesting and eccentric personalities, she was always restrained by
tradition and etiquette to bite her tongue, refraining from any conduct or conversation that
was unbecoming of a Trade-Heiress - and by extension, might embarrass her father. For the
vociferous and always curious Lar, such restriction left her feeling locked in a gilded cage.
With her sharp wit, Lar quickly learned how to probe, pry, and simply ask for what she really
wanted without asking at all. For her it became a game, a game to see what fresh outrageous
news or scandalous dalliance she could pull from guests while maintaining the facade of the
blameless hostess. Eventually this escalated into outright manipulation, subtly pitting guests
against each other and seeing how far they would take it at her gentle urging. After one
party ended in an open brawl with three dozen participants and the destruction by fire of the
estate’s dancehall, a scandalized Baron Lish could no longer deny his daughter’s burgeoning
puppeteering hobby no longer and sent her away to higher education in a distant star system
while be began the long work of salvaging his own reputation.
Enjoying her freedom quite well, Lar spent her college years cultivating real friends,
doing what she wanted to without escort, studying biochemistry, and just generally having
a splendid time. During one study session, an accidental sample mix-up led Lar to the
discovery that her species’ natural defensive mucus could be easily modified into a new form
of psychoactive toxin. Using the rest of her remaining term to modify and test the concoction,
usually at one of the many parties that were always running, Lar Wor Lish refined it into a
true, proper, mind control serum. Keeping the discovery a secret while earning her degree
17
and several academic accolades, Lar returned to the family estate playing the part of a grateful
and reformed presence, all the while secretly spinning a plot that would be nothing if not a
deliciously fun challenge to occupy her attention for a short while.
It started out slowly enough, the right whisper in the right ear at the right time won enough
board members over to her side. If her father suspected anything an application of the venom
to his closest advisors kept him off the trail and focused on the wrong threats. When estate
security stopped allowing the Trade-Baron free travel for respect of his own safety, the Baron
was a bit miffed. When the board appointed his daughter as Vice-Executive of all operations
without consulting him, he was proud if hesitantly worried. When the executive board slowly
drained itself of his old friends, replaced by his daughter’s picked favorites, he began to panic.
When the vote of no confidence went through, he was mortified but powerless to stop it.
When his daughter accepted his royal title in his stead and read a letter he had never penned
announcing his permanent retirement to his estate for health reasons, he finally realized that
his daughter had finished locking the cage she had been constructing around him for cycles.
While the former-Baron still has his wealth and hobbies, the new Trade-Baroness Lar
Wor Lish keeps him on an exceedingly tight leash, controlling his access to the outside
galaxy strictly. For her own part Lar was never one to covet organizational power and left
the running of the Lish Trade Empire to her capable chosen surrogates. Picking up the role
of underground information broker as a new exciting hobby to fill her time, Lar discovered
she enjoyed the opportunities to meet new and interesting people and learn their wonderful
secrets. Soon enough Lar found herself also involved in direct field work, the siren call of
adventure and danger too much for the Baroness to ignore. With her trained talents and
cultivated mind toxin blessing her with unmitigated success, Lar Wor Lish has enjoyed her
new career immensely. Holding no real malice for her father despite it all, Lar makes it a habit
to visit him after every fulfilled contract and regale him with the juicy details of her gallivants
around the galaxy.
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FRAGMENTARY RECORD
G-Star Private Investigation Organization, Field Notice From Agent Twelve

“Arrived at residence of Lorkal Wor Lish under cover of darkness. Surreptitious
probing of public-facing security revealed surprisingly few openings. Usually you
find at least one feller who’s a bit strapped for cash and willing to take a bribe.
Total loyalty here. Began surveillance of property from a distance. Only occasional
glimpses of Lorkal being carted around by armed security, doesn’t he have
his own body case? Something’s really not right here. Acquired resources for
infiltration attempt, believe I’ve isolated a time frame when Lorkal is under least
amount of guard. Will make contact the following night in accordance with client’s
direct wishes.
Returned from contact attempt, putting this job in the crank file. While mid-
infiltration was discovered by Lady Lar herself. Expecting the worse but was
surprised to find how understanding she was. Instead of calling guards she offered
me tea and made it herself, said she didn’t want to wake the staff, can you believe
it? She says this isn’t the first time a private agency was hired to break into her
manor either. Some kind of ongoing harassment from an old grudge within the
company or something. Assured me her father was under no duress and simply
resting in his old age. Promised me no charges would be pressed and even gave
me her card, said she might have work for me in the future. Recommend rejection
of any further work orders from original client. Agent returning.”
19
DEADEYE BONDED: QUIN & QUO
ALIASES Quo & Quin, The Great Bond Of The Clouds
WEAPONS Supressed OOBLONG GR Long-las Marksman’s Rifle
The Hunt For The Terror Beast Of Draco Flats, The Assassination
PRIOR CONTRACTS of Under-Queen Maywell, The Purge Of Lost Trade-Hub
Alexander Blue, The Extraction of Under-Queen Moonspire
20
An exceptionally talented pair comprising an expert marksman and an airborne spotter, both highly
experienced assassins who use their training to pick off targets silently and disappear entirely.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Quin & Quo are devout practitioners of the Taish En Tei religious faith, and when off-
contract, occupy their time maintaining the grounds and entertaining tourists at a remote
monastery in the Hydra Felis Sector. Business offers should be kept entirely separate from
their mundane life however, and a secure info-net line will be provided by Burzok’s upon
request. Expect replies within the later side of the microcycle, after monastery business is
concluded.
All interstellar trade currencies accepted. Temple donations are heavily appreciated and
may result in a higher priority in the contract queue. Due to specific restrictions dictated by
their unique method of teamwork, contracts in unusually heavy gravitational conditions or
very thin atmospheres may be rejected. Micro-gravity work retains no such restrictions.
HISTORY ON FILE
Lifelong compatriots, shared experience and religious instruction have evolved the bond
of the Mirzamian Haelf-Hopper, Quin, and the Denebian Cliff Rider, Quo, to a new level
of synchronicity. Both orphaned early in life and without any institution to ward them, Quin
& Quo survived as petty bandits and purse-snatchers, preying on rubber-necking tourists
throughout the busier ports of the Cygnus Sector. With this brotherhood formed by shared
struggle and the necessity of teamwork, Quin & Quo advanced to more dangerous hustles,
breaking into warehouses and the holds of docked ships to re-appropriate treasures and
valuable trade goods for themselves. The speed and stealth required for such daring heists
would serve them both well later in life, but one wrong move at this early point in their career
upended Quin & Quo’s fragile comfort in a permanent fashion.
After bungling a hired break-in on a local crime lord’s pleasure yacht due to unexpected
extra guard rotations, the vengeful lord had Quin & Quo at his mercy. Deciding death wasn’t
a punishment that fit the crime, the lord had Quo’s left wing barbarically clipped and Quin’s
legs savagely hacked away. Throwing them onto the dock below, the crime lord sailed away
a man with a much wider smile, while Quin & Quo worked together as they always had to
staunch the bleeding and salve their wounds. Entirely by chance, a pair of elder monks of the
Taish En Tei sect were enjoying a lunar stroll together and came across Quo trying to tear
cloth into bandages with his beak to aid his friend. Lending their own assistance, the monks
were able to stabilize the two and offered them a night at the local inn to recuperate and
discuss future matters. Still in shock at their losses, Quin & Quo saw no alternative. Over
fresh wine the monks offered an opportunity: without much left to lose at this point, perhaps
Quin & Quo would enjoy a change of scenery at a nearby Taish En Tei temple- room, board,
and martial training included. Training that, the usually serene monks promised, the two
astonished comrades could readily use for revenge.
The Taish En Tei Sect maintains a strong emphasis that true purpose and understanding
of self can only be achieved with the emotional connection and bond formed with another.
Acting in pairs, the sect’s monks provide demonstrations of synchronized agility for tourists
and travelers by day and practice many forms of lethal combat by night. Falling into the
sect easily, over time Quo’s unique Cliff Rider biology allowed him to regain his flight, but
Quin’s legs were not so easily recovered, and to this day he requires the use of a Hovering
Orb of Taish En Tei manufacture for general mobility. Relying on each other as they always
21
have, Quin & Quo developed a unique performance of paired mid-air flight and acrobatics
incorporating this Hovering Orb, delighting visitors to the temple complex. After hours
however, the same monk pair that rescued the duo were drilling them rigorously in the
Taish En Tei style of marksmanship. Killing at relatively close range to ensure no stray fire,
remaining silent to ease infiltration, and staying hidden so as not to raise alarm, the Taish En
Tei style is unique among assassination schools in the wider galaxy. Quin was always a steady
hand with locks, and his orb provided a stable base of fire, so he was assigned the trigger
position. Quo focused his training on becoming an able scout and spotter for his brother in
arms.
Several cycles after their entrance into the monastery Quin & Quo’s brother monks
announced they were ready for the final test, an assassination and snatch job for the temple
itself, arranged by the same two monks who rescued them on that bloody night. A rather
familiar crime-lord had gotten a bit too greedy for the liking of the eldest monks, pressuring
the monastery for protection contracts and scaring away visitors. Under cover of moonless
night Quo carried Quin silently into the crime-lord’s complex, shooting off into a high soar
to keep an eye on both their target and incoming patrols. With his Hover Orb’s engine tuned
to precise and silent specifications, Quin was able to reach a firing position from where he
could eliminate any passing guards with single shots from his rifle at Quo’s signal. Within the
night, both monks had disappeared from the complex, leaving behind only the bodies of five
guards and a cryptic note left in the now vanished Crime-Lord’s penthouse apartment: “No
Smile Lasts Alone Eternal Under The Sun.”
While Info-Net speculation about the exact location or final fate of the Crime-Lord runs
rampant, the local Taish En Tei monastery has always denied culpability in his disappearance.
For their part Quin & Quo remain beloved institutions at that temple, fan-favorites for their
incredible swooping shows and death-defying displays.
22
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Condensed Timeline of Mysterious Assassination of Thoth Prime Mayor,

Local Constabulary Records
T Minus 0226 – Loose Panel reported at outer gate by passing Patrolman First
Rate Herring, maintenance informed.
T Minus 0154 – Messenger arrives with news of suspected assassination plot.

(messenger still held as possible accomplice)
T Minus 0152 – Mayor settled into the lockdown bunker, attending guard tripled.
T Minus 0062 – Patrolman First Rate Herring discovers second loose panel near
temperature control, fails to report to central. (Patrolman First Rate Herring is
currently undergoing interrogation as accomplice to assassination)
T Minus 0025 – Mayor complains of excess heat and boredom.
T Minus 0015 – Mayor continues complaints of excess heat and boredom,

attending guards corroborate unusually stuffy temperatures in the security bunker.
T Minus 0006 – Mayor orders rescinding of lockdown protocol for a smoke break
and breather, bunker entrance swept and site secured by security force of 42
veteran troopers.
T Minus 0000 – Following behind attending guard detail, Mayor takes a single step
out of the bunker door and into the wider courtyard, immediately jerks forward and
falls over dead. Single shot to the cranial node booster organ. No attending guards
report hearing a sound or seeing the assassin. No casings, markings, or physical
evidence discovered at any of the buildings with sight lines to the courtyard crime-
scene
T Plus 0002 – Patrolman First Rate Herring reports seeing a weird looking bird
flying high above the outer gate, carrying a basket or some sort of package
underneath it.
End Timeline
23
SWORD SAINT: BISHAMON MUSASHI
Old Master, The Man From The Bottom Of The Well,

ALIASES Grampy Mushi
Nanite-Edged Daisho Set, Marksmen’s Energy Rifle,
WEAPONS Cybernetics-Equipped Kasa
The Sundering of Smuggler Ring Wrutoki Delta, The Fall of Tyrant
PRIOR CONTRACTS Lindstrom Denworth, The Ambush of the Five Ruby Stones, The
Protection of The Calcyon Incorporated Whistleblower, The Burning of
Pletorian Airbase Hammerguard
24
An almost-mythical master of martial arts and weaponry, the long-lived
veteran of uncountable battles.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Bishamon Musashi keeps no known fixed address or operating location, appearing around
the galaxy wherever promising warriors gather or the unjust and cruel escape their due
reward. Forgoing modern forms of telecommunication, Musashi is instead beckoned by an
esoteric ritual passed through folklore among common citizens and the downtrodden to
beseech his aid. While the mechanics of this ritual and how it connects potential employers
to Musashi are mysterious and not well understood, the Burzok Foundation will provide
complete instructions and the required mirrors, candles, and bells upon request.
Musashi often accepts contracts for a relative pittance: sometimes only a few copper coins
or a modest trinket precious to the employer. Clients should note, however, that Musashi
will refuse any contract that does not provide either challenging foes to face or a villainous
character to thwart, as Musashi is driven mainly by his own motivations when he selects
employers, and not by any material need. Contracts that are calls to adventure in distant and
dangerous corners of the galaxy, right the wrongs of a cruel tyrant, or pit Musashi against
incredible odds are most likely to draw his eye during negotiations.
HISTORY ON FILE
When questioned about his strength and vitality despite his visually apparent advanced
age, Musashi flippantly replies with an oft-repeated quip about “the benefits of meditation,
exercise, and clean living”. Perhaps this is the truth, or this may simply be misdirection
intended to obfuscate the true origin of his tremendous longevity, for Bishamon Musashi
can boast of a career that stretches far back enough to be obscured by the mists of history.
An entry for a “Master of Swordsmanship, Advanced In Age and of Peculiar Origin” is listed
in the roll of arms for the ancient Battle of Hao-Shukh Fields. More concretely, Bishamon
Musashi is recorded as a Hero of Great Honor by the ancient Aspirion Empire for the rescue
of a now nameless emperor from capture by a small army of foreign soldiers. A recovered
obelisk, now translated, relates how for his gallantry Musashi was rewarded with great gifts
and accolades by imperial decree. A venerable and widely influential empire, the Aspirion
culture is now so ancient that it has long since faded into dust, leaving only artifacts eagerly
examined by archaeologists throughout the galaxy. Bishamon Musashi still remains.
Having lived such a long life, it seems only natural that Musashi would have picked up
experience and wisdom in measure to his longevity. Given ample opportunity to study and
practice his skills, Musashi is the foremost master of several forms of combat, including
Traditional and Neo-Tanpopo swordsmanship, the Cisterial Gunslinger style, and the
Hidden Fist Martial Craft of the Hell’s Maw Ascetic Cult. Through thousands and thousands
of battles, Musashi has honed these skills to an edge keen enough to cut through incredible
amounts of stacked opposition. When surrounded and outnumbered, Musashi calls upon this
vast experience to fluidly outmaneuver and outfight his foes, switching between combat forms
quickly and efficiently to deal with the challenge at hand. In the heat of pitched battle, there
are perhaps only a few lifeforms in the wider galaxy that are his equal, and such a bold boast
is easily proven by a simple observation: no matter how often Bishamon Musashi throws
himself willingly into certain death, he always returns to fight another battle when needed.
Despite cultivating a lifestyle of bloodshed and struggle, Musashi displays a serene and
gentle personality, equally devoted to the peacetime arts of poetry composition and ink-
25
wash painting. Original pieces by his hand, often found in the wake of his adventures as
if left behind without much thought, can fetch very high prices on the interstellar trade
markets. Finding little use for the long-accumulated wealth his escapades have provided,
Musashi spends freely at restaurants, bars, and ale houses, ordering rounds and covering tabs
for grateful patrons who crowd around to hear him retell stories of his comings and goings.
Perhaps more than his martial prowess, it is this penchant for courtesy and kindness that
has found Musashi’s story growing into that of a bonafide folk hero. Patient, agreeable, and
wise, during his travels Musashi performs as a teacher and adjudicator, sharing his wisdom
and solving problems in the towns and stations he passes through. A beloved figure to these
communities blessed by his presence, it is not this charity alone that has established Musashi’s
reputation.
Driven primarily by his heart, Musashi ever seeks new challenge. It is a common enough
occurrence for promising young warriors to be visited in the night by an elderly challenger
who offers a friendly spar that ghost stories of the “Old Master” are passed freely among
barracks throughout the galaxy. An even more common folk tradition has emerged among the
once downtrodden and oppressed of several disparate cultures throughout the stars, detailing
his righteous nature. The “Musashi Tale”, as this shared tradition is known by scholars, speaks
to the material effect of Musashi’s character upon the galaxy more directly than any of his
more comical or jovial legends.
These Musashi Tales take the form of an oral retelling of historical events local to the
system they originate from and follow a narrative common enough that scholars posit
the tales represents an expression of Musashi’s compulsory behavior. Where the petty or
corrupt reign, or tyrants butcher and plunder to sate their desire, the lamentations of the
people reach the ears of a traveling stranger, one enjoying the hospitality of the locals for a
time. Parting with a few effects of his in a small sack, the elderly stranger thanks the people
for their kindness and asks that if they ever desire deliverance from their misery, what is
contained within will provide a solution. Often dismissed as the ramblings of an odd stranger,
in the tales the sack is usually stored in a forgotten corner and left to gather dust. When the
depredations of the unjust continue, however, the
people in desperation will open the sack to find
a simple poem penned to parchment, two small
polished mirrors, three hand bells of varying sizes
and seven candles of common wax. Following the
instructions transcribed in the poem, when the
ritual is completed using these objects the stranger
returns to the town that very night, no matter the
length of time since his departure. Hearing their
pleas once more and decreeing that the time of
cruelty is now over, the stranger arms himself and
travels to the stronghold of the villain, demanding
recompense and atonement for their misdeeds.
When refused and attacked by those loyal to these
tyrants, the stranger defends themselves ably and
26
eliminates these enforcers, before advancing upon and then separating the villainous architect
of the people’s misery from their head in a single clean stroke from his sword. Returning to
the people who summoned him, the stranger asks only for a small fee in repayment, and the
return of the sack and what was contained within. Soon after the payment is tendered the
stranger travels for parts unknown on foot, whistling a jolly tune.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Stellar Field Production Documentary Series: Visions Of Musashi

Transcript of Unused B-Roll for the Info-Net Special: Interviews with
Orphaned Youth of the Keromos Oil Sands Complex
“I heard Musashi stuck his finger into the barrel of an anti spacecraft battery and it
made the gun explode but then he was fine and he chopped up all the bad guys
on the spaceship!”
“My brother said Musashi stuck himself in a rail cannon once because flying to the
pirate ship out in space would have been too slow. I forgot what happened once
he got up there...”
“Musashi is strongest because he eated metal and metal is strongest of all.”
“How come he always shows up whenever you call him? I asked my best friend
but she says it’s ‘cause he’s always looking through every mirror no matter where
it is and I told her that was creepy and I hope that’s not how he does it cause
Musashi shouldn’t be creepy.”
“I dreamed one time he came to the orphanage and gived us all saucer rings to
play with and Missus Gail let us keep them and we played catch all together and it
was very fun. I hope he comes but for real instead of just the dream.”
27
FAR RANGER: DRAS OF MANY EYES
ALIASES Hunterform Janus

Taurex Industries Twin-Linking Slug-Thrower
WEAPONS (Hunterform), Fomorian Man-Hunter Sickle
The Capture of Thraxial Terrax on Tiraz Moon, The Siege of
PRIOR CONTRACTS Cattlebug Outpost 23, The Evacuation of the Hironymian Royal
Family to the Lich Stars, The Salvage of Lost Freighter Dawning
Star
28
A versatile hunter with an extensive history of successful investigation,
surveillance, security, bounty hunting, and assassination contracts.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Dras of Many Eyes negotiates all contracts in a public setting: the Lich Star Transit
System Central Station. Potential employers must meet or send a surrogate negotiator to the
fourth left-most seat on the third floor promenade deck above Terminal 2. After waiting for
approximately 33 nanocycles a Trill bird will perch on the seat to the right of the negotiator
and begin singing a simple melody. The negotiator must repeat a spoken passphrase provided
by the Burzok Foundation to this Trill bird twice, and then follow any further instructions
and answer any questions to complete the contract negotiation. Failure to follow proper
instructions will negate the contract and result in the forfeiture of any advance paid to the
Burzok Foundation.
Contracts may be negotiated in any of the major interstellar trade currencies, although
Dras places a priority on contracts tendered in Tokorian Sense-Sticks stocked with thrilling
sensations. Living examples of the Fomorian Trill fauna-type in proper health can also be
exchanged for Dras’s service.
HISTORY ON FILE
Piecing together the full timeline of the creation of Dras of Many Eyes is a difficult
proposition. Research notes and video records from a shuttered “Project Janus” co-initiative
have been recovered from the archived databanks of now defunct bioresearch firms, some
dating back several centacycles. As a mercenary operating under the name “Dras”, however,
Dras of Many Eyes has only been on the roster for four full cycles at the time of this printing.
Being of a rather secretive and taciturn nature, Dras chooses not to share information about
his origin publicly, and we rely on these fragmentary and archaic records as the only sources
of information available. Starting as a simple bio-survey of the unique and elusive Formorian
Trill, a rather rare flying reptilian native to the jungled environs of Fomor IV, Project Janus
expanded into unsanctioned experimentation after several inconsistencies were found in
Fomorian Trill behavior as observed.
Noting a preternatural ease of communication and complexity of cooperation between
members of Trill packs despite remaining absolutely silent, corporate researchers became
convinced that Fomorian Trills were inherently linked and operating as a pack-level hive
mind, communicating through thought alone over wide distances. Eager to explore the
origins of such a divergence from the typical Trill behavior seen in other species, they began
the lengthy and taxing process of capturing several specimens. From here, records are scant
again, but recurring references to the development of an “Inducing Amplifier” can be found
in several highly damaged data archives. More interesting however is a small report tucked
away behind a heavily encrypted storage vault that implies that the genome of the native
Fomorian Trill had been tampered with before Project Janus scientists made landfall. While
the anonymous author of the report declines to place a solid conclusion as to who or what is
responsible, the genetic survey results they cite do seem to support their theory.
The collected records end with intriguing manifests that detail a large construction project
begun in the depths of the Fomorian jungle, and the transfer of several corporate bio-weapon
specialists to the Project Janus team. Unfortunately for employers who desire the knowledge
of a concrete link to Project Janus and Dras of Many Eyes, this is where all records end. A
tumultuous civil war that engulfed the entirety of the Fomor sector broke out and the site
29
was abandoned and then lost to memory, the Project Janus research team evacuated to safer
ports and the entire project was shelved. These archived records were pulled by intrepid Info-
Hackers centacycles after the fact by accident, during a deep dive trawl in search of blackmail
material for a competing corporate entity. Researchers attempting to follow in the footsteps
of the Janus team after the records were released returned to a more placid Fomor IV and
found no remains of either the project site or any the Fomorian Trill themselves despite
several lengthy expeditions across the surface, although the Trills natural elusiveness and
already low population may point to a conclusion other than their total disappearance from
Fomor.
What is certain however, is that the first entity to go by the name of Dras of Many Eyes
was indeed a Fomorian Trill. Advertising surveillance services on the Info-Net in an odd
dialect of standard language form, Dras promised potential employers, “...enough eyes to see
whatever would hides.” This promise was not an empty one, and early employers expecting
to do business with a single lifeform found their requests answered by dozens of Trill, all
responding to the name Dras of Many Eyes and moving in unison to accomplish their goals.
Proving surprisingly resilient, it is not enough to kill a single Dras to bring an end to their
contract, any Dras that survives can carry on the mission with the full knowledge gained by
the slain individual. Each Dras is themself also a dangerous prospect for the unprepared, and
many an overconfident security team have found their numbers whittled down by the claws
and talons of this medium-sized predator.
As Dras gained a name for himself, he began diversifying into other niches of mercenary
work, and mysteriously and perhaps a bit disconcertingly, began arriving to the field with
new members of the Dras collective that did not resemble the original Trill. A humanoid
Hunterform armored and armed with modern plasma weaponry, a crawling Artilleryform
designed to bombard hardened installations with overwhelming firepower, an aquatic and
many armed Piscesform that can perform sabotage of underwater facilities, each of these
new Dras were morphologically distinct from the original Dras individual, but remains and
samples analyzed after battles reveal they all share some small element of the Trill genome
and all continue to speak with the voice and personality of Dras of Many Eyes whenever
encountered.
Dras is an enigma who shares little about
himself. In negotiations he always appear reticent
and perhaps shy, avoiding responses to personal
questions or probing inquiries and shifting
conversations to business matters instead. When
was he born? Where does he get his armor and
weaponry? How does he create those alternate
forms? All questions long unanswered no matter
how many times Dras is pressed about them.
Perhaps this is a trait inherited from his original
species, a Trill subtype notorious for their stealth
and avoidance of possible observers. During
operations however, testimony and vid-film
30
footage reveal a hunter that seeks thrill over all other considerations, throwing themselves
into harm’s way and attacking strongpoints without regard for their own survival. Dras in
recent cycles has taken to focusing more and more on contracts that engender high risk and
where intel and support are in short supply. Recently giving a rare and unexpected Tele-Net
interview, Dras had a simple reply when asked what drove him into such a reckless line of
work in the first place:
“Dras once have only one eye, now Dras have so many. Would be shame to waste.”
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Notes on the Fomorian Trill, Fomor System Royal Bestiary

“The Fomorian Trill is an unusually secretive species in the Trill family, Your
Grace. While The Greater Ruby Trill bleats incessantly and the Silvertailed Warble-
Trill carries its call up and down the mountains as it hunts, The Fomorian Trill
darts silently from branch to branch, only releasing the shrill cry from its tentacled
mandibles when it is almost directly upon its prey. I myself have only been lucky
enough to see its gleaming, emerald beauty as more than a blur of green light in
the canopy once in my life. After a long morning spent wandering a dried riverbed
in the lowland jungles I followed the striking shriek to a nearby clearing. Thereupon
I espied a beautiful example resting on a boulder, a squealing thork-rat clutched in
its talons.
I cursed inwardly as the crunch of a twig underfoot alerted her to my presence,

but instead of the expected flight away to the canopy top, it paused and focused
on me. The orange clarity of her gem-like eye as it contemplated my interruption
stuck me as one of the most beautiful sights I have seen in my many years as a
gamesmaster, and the connection I felt to this peculiar creature at that moment is
an experience I hope dearly you too will be able to experience, Your Grace. Soon
enough however, perhaps finding me wanting, the Trill sprang towards the sky,
carrying its hunt. I was left behind as a soft rain started pouring on me, washing
down into the river bed and bringing it back to life. To this day I have yet to meet
another Fomorian Trill as curious as she, and I doubt as Royal Gamemaster I will
see one again.”
31
VOIDFIGHTER: LOCQUITAL THRIP THRAP
ALIASES The Blue Meteor, Unlucky Thrap

Uparmored Fighter Bomber MoVoll, Hardened Ilitian Crushing
WEAPONS Mace, Pa-Cor Wux-Lance Portable Laser Caster
The Hijacking of Great Freighter Ursus 9, The Battle at the
PRIOR CONTRACTS Edge of Comet Sector Tresarius, The Wreck of Luxury Liner
Luxtempia, The Sabotage Of The Rocket Racer League
Betelgeuse Grand Prix
32
An ace pilot and exceptional melee combatant. An excellent choice for strikes against
microgravity installations, space vessels, and wherever shipboard combat is to be expected.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
For his own safety, Locquital Thrip Thrap docks his heavy fighter at one of many star
stations in several undisclosed sectors, rotating his stays on a predetermined loop as needed
according to a randomly generated itinerary. As the exact seed code of this itinerary program
is held only by Locquital himself and the Burzok Foundation, contact must be made with the
aid of one of our surrogate negotiators, who are provided at no extra cost to any interested
employer. A full non-disclosure agreement of any negotiated contract details is guaranteed.
Thrip Thrap accepts only untraceable and non-sequential Auric Plate Press or certified
vaults of Galactic Trade Credit Sticks where each credit stick does not exceed 5000 value
units in total. Negotiators working on behalf of government entities or employers with high
connections and vast resources may be able to offer official pardons in trade for work to be
completed, as Locquital Thrip Thrap is maintained on several hundred galactic wanted boards
and bounty agency rolls and desires to remove himself from this burden.
HISTORY ON FILE
Once a promising and bright-eyed star of the Rocket Racing League circuit, Locquital
Thrip Thrap used his small frame, agile limbs, and dexterous tail and tongue to maintain
control of and expertly pilot rockets of rather unusual make and design. While his piloting
style was unorthodox, his extensive winning record was anything but. Thrip Thrap took home
the Rookie Laurel in his debut cycle, and the Piloting Championship Trophy only two cycles
later. What followed was an almost unbelievable string of domination and broken records
in the Rocket Racing League circuits, with Thrip Thrap handily taking the Championship
Trophy five times running. On top of the galaxy, what might have become one of the most
historically impressive dynasties in professional Rocket Racing was toppled when Thrip Thrap
was implicated as the architect of a convoluted plot that resulted in the murder of a long-time
friend and rival racer on the eve of the next Grand Prix. Despite desperately pleading his
innocence, the corroborating evidence was enough for the authorities to issue a warrant to
bring in the star racer.
While evading the arresting officers and escaping capture, Thrip Thrap displayed a strength
and instinct for hand to hand combat that even he was unaware of, perhaps a consequence of
his naturally quick reaction times bolstered by years of wrestling unresponsive controls in the
cramped cockpits of rocket ships. When the night was over and dawn broke over the Grand
Prix Dock Hub, six arresting officers were incapacitated, two injured severely, and the Star
Core Alliance had no choice but to place a sizable bounty on the head of the runaway racer,
wanted dead or alive. To date this remains the most lucrative of all bounties placed on Thrip
Thrap, the original reward increased every couple of cycles in an attempt to make it more
attractive to prospective hunters.
Using his highly-tuned racing rocket to avoid Star Core patrols, Thrip Thrap found that
none of his old acquaintances were willing to shelter him while he tried to investigate and
prove his innocence. Sticking to shadowy corners of the galaxy, Thrip Thrap eventually ran out
of emergency funds and was forced to sell his services as an exceptional pilot to local crime
lords. Shuttling a slicer crew to a Casino Liner and its accompanying vault, this heist went off
without a hitch, but security footage placed Thrip Thrap at the scene of the crime. The ensuing
second bounty on the wayward race champion dashed Thrip Thrap’s hopes of staying under
33
the radar to prove his innocence and return in triumph a free being.
Like a Hydranian Razor-Gouger, Locquital has never stopped moving since. His original
racing rocket has been modified into an up-armored heavy fighter-bomber over the course
of his infamous career as a mercenary on the run. Having spent many decacycles now as an
eternal fugitive, his piloting and combat skills have been honed to a razor sharp edge against
the never ending tide of would-be bounty collectors set upon him. Perhaps originally only
falling into his line of work as a means to fund an investigation that would clear his name,
each black contract, assassination, hijacking, and sabotage job has only burdened Thrip Thrap
with larger and more extensive bounties on his name.
While occasionally picking up a pardon or record expulsion through blackmail or services

rendered, the weight of his now countless warrants and bounties has extinguished in
Locquital Thrip Thrap the hope of waking one morning to a bright sun casting its rays over
a Grand Prix weekend, his racing helmet carried on the end of his tail with him poised at the
starting line to win his sixth Championship Trophy, an exonerated champion and beloved
figure throughout the galaxy again. Instead now he finds himself only a survivor, ruthless and
desperate to stay funded and one step ahead of the numerous hunters that dog his trail every
moment of his life.
34
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Chaseman Bounty Hunting Agency, Recovered Fighter Wing Signal

Transponder, Classified Sector
Bloodhound 2: “Closing to visual distance now, that’s Thrap all right.”
Bloodhound 1: “Wing reform on me, weapons hot, bodies cold.”
Bloodhound 2: “Roger. Lock-on in 5. 4. 3. 2. One. Uh. Lost visual. Lost lock.”
Bloodhound 1: “3 and 4, do you have visual?”
Unknown Bloodhound: “Interference – Field – Lost – Look -”
Bloodhound 2: “Radar below! He got behind us, Lead!”
Bloodhound 1: “ Break! Break! Break! Chaff. How in tarnation does it move so

fast.”
Bloodhound 2: “ He’s behind you lead, my guns are go, shake him off.”
Bloodhound 1: “Any more G’s and I’ll black out, how is that ugly scalehead turning
so hard. Get him off my ass, 2”
Bloodhound 2: “He’s slippy, Lead. Guns dry. Thrap breaking off. Lost visual.”
Bloodhound 1: “I don’t like this at all. Full speed retreat, drop transponder for
3 and 4 since we lost them, back to hangar. Something’s real wrong about this
nebula, it’s like he was expecting us at-”
Bloodhound 2: “LEAD HIT! LEAD HIT! LEAD IS BURNING! TWO TAKING

COMMAND! FULL RETREAT! 3 AND 4 FULL RETREAT! CHAFF! CHAFF! HE’S ON
ME. FULL RETREAT! DROPPING TRANSPONDER!”
[end of recorded transmission, transponder repeats.]
35
FORGEBREAKER: GWON JANG-MI
ALIASES Tankbuster J
Heavy Ordnance and Directed Energy Weapons, Military
WEAPONS Grade Demolition Tools
The Destruction of the Calcyon Industries Hypermonitor Series Droid Line,
PRIOR CONTRACTS The Breach of Tyrant-Lord Helmorth’s Grand Royal Dam, The Sabotage
of Imperial Fleet Felstar, The Burning of Interstellar Incorporated Private
Policing Record Depot 2, The Akhrohka Industries Black Project Hangar
Raid
36
A master mechanic and engineer. Jang-mi designs and operates her own weaponry intended for use
in large-scale destruction contracts such as breaking fortifications or hunting armored vehicles.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Jang-mi operates out of her own design firm, Jang-mi Solutions, located in the Delta
Alkaid quadrant. The Burzok Foundation will provide a Tele-Net line used exclusively for
negotiation of Applied Force contracts upon request, but Jang-mi Solutions also has a public
facing front where Jang-mi provides above-board engineering consultation for prospective
employers that desire that instead.
Jang-mi accepts all standard interstellar currencies. She requests that all contracts include
a detailed dossier including as many known variables as possible, including the full expected
complement of hostile forces and the chemical makeup of the armor of any hard targets if
that information is available. Inability to provide this information will increase the rate of the
contract, but Jang-mi is still open to renegotiation based on extenuating circumstances.
HISTORY ON FILE
Born and raised on the salvage planet of Jeongkeu, Gwon Jang-mi spent her youth in the
shadows of the rusted hulks of decommissioned capital warships. Organized into family
groups built around powerful and combative corporate clans, workers on Jeongkeu would
spend generations accomplishing the work of a single salvage contract due to the scale of
effort involved in breaking down these massive monuments to power.
By the time of Jang-mi’s birth, the Gwon corpo-clan had spent nearly 12 decaycles tearing
apart their namesake, the Eternal Gwon. The flagship of a now forgotten empire, the richly
decorated Eternal Gwon had incredible material and artistic value. The wealth the ship
brought the Gwon family as they extracted its armor plating, gilded statuary, and advanced
sensor systems allowed Jangmi to enjoy a fine education when she wasn’t working stints on
her family’s scrapper crew.
Jang-mi was fascinated from an early age with the high-energy salvage tools used by these
scrappers, and equally impressed by the massive and still-remaining main armament of the
Eternal Gwon, a fully-rigged plasma battery that had yet to be taken apart in her childhood.
Studying both when she had time to spare, Jang-mi used her burgeoning engineering
education to personally design and implement improvements to both portable and crew-
served high-energy cutters. Her upgraded designs ultimately led to a significant increase in
the efficiency and wealth of the Gwon corpo-clan, and rival families on Jeongkeu began to
take notice. Corruption and mismanagement at all levels of the hierarchy was a constant issue
for many of the clans, and one that often resulted in bankruptcy and collapse when the credits
left over from a completed contract were not enough to grease enough palms to secure a new
one. In such dire straits, it was not unusual for the clans to use their sizable private security
forces to lash out at rivals with more lucrative salvage rights and take their contracts by force.
Not many galactic navies gave much thought to which Jeongkese Scrap-Lord was in charge of
the breaking down, as long as the work still got done. This was the intention of the Guo and
Geom corpo-clans when they launched a surprise raid on the Gwon family holdings under
cover of darkness.
It was this raid which proved to be the turning point in the life of Gwon Jang-mi. Thinking
quickly and keeping a level head, she was able to lead the Gwon Engineering Team in
temporarily activating the Eternal Gwon’s ancient plasma battery, putting it to devastating
use in defense of her family. The Guo and Geom clans were entirely unable to handle the
37
close range barrage and were routed. With such fearsome firepower now known to be on their
side, the Gwon corpo-clan gained such an unshakable reputation of dominating strength
that to date no further attacks were made against them. For her efforts, Jang-mi was made
heir apparent of the Gwon corpo-clan and settled into the position of Chief Executive soon
thereafter. Under her direction, the salvage contract on the Eternal Gwon was completed
several cycles ahead of schedule. Jang-mi made sure she was personally present when the final
decommissioning of the plasma battery that so inspired her as a youth was carried out.
Now fabulously wealthy with the contract completed, the Gwon family were able to
retire from the scrapping industry, diversifying into other business interests. Perhaps out of
gratitude or tradition the family name remains, in tribute to the ship now long gone. Jang-
mi herself moved off-world to start her design firm in the Alkaid system after she finished
her doctorate in mechanical engineering. Finding steady work quickly, but also finding the
drudgery of industrial consultation repetitive, Jang-mi seemed to wither under the weight of
her own success. When her secretary passed along a certain black contract under the table, an
industrial sabotage team seeking her expertise to help dismantle an experimental war walker
being developed by a firm competing with their employer, Jang-mi was revitalized. Perhaps
missing the glory of battle, or maybe missing only the raw act of destruction itself, Jang-mi
provided both the weaponry needed for the job and volunteered herself as its operator.
Exhilarated with the thrill of being just another part of a dirty job team and finding
herself very adept with the work after that first successful black contract, Jang-mi began
refocusing her efforts away from the mundane side of her design firm and towards more black
market sabotage contracts. Expanding her personal design space to an unused wing of the
building, Jang-mi quickly filled the hall with her various prototypes. Developing the first
portable plasma coil launchers, deep-burial mega pierce shells, and the sonic fragmentation
cap system, Jang-mi’s knack for innovation has led to dozens of exclusive galactic patents.
Preferring to work hands-on as another member of a team, Gwon Jang-mi can modify her
weaponry on-site to fit the needs of the contract and through rigorous training she remains
strong and vigorous enough to carry her complement of arms herself. Leaving the running of
her own design firm to the capable engineers she hand-selected, Gwon Jang-mi seems quite
content to be another pair of boots now, punching
holes big enough for the rest of her team to slip in
and accomplish their goals.
38
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Jangmi Solutions Ad-Copy, Portable Plasma Coil Caster Cutter Version 3

“For big jobs, you need the biggest bang for your buck. Jang-mi Solutions has
your back. 125 grav-units of raw force, the Portable Plasma Coil Caster has been
an industry gold standard for six cycles now, and with our second revision we aim
to keep it at the top. Packing an improved cooling shroud, a lightened and longer-
lasting power supply pack, a new ergonomic layout with options for bilateral or
trilateral symmetry operator assistance, and a new magnetic coil re-calibration
core, The Portable Plasma Coil Caster Cutter Version 3 is the most powerful and
versatile Portable Plasma Coil Caster Cutter to ever hit the industrial market. With
a 23 percent increase in total output thanks to these innovations the list of things
you can cut has grown so large it would be easier to print what you CAN’T cut
here. Contact your local Hardwick Industrial sales representative today to book a
trial appointment.”
Jang-mi Solutions – Real Power makes Real Solutions
39
RIFTSEEKER: KESS NEHA-SKETH
ALIASES None Currently Known
WEAPONS Kandmerian Ritual Staff

The Capture of the Red Concord Casino Jumper Gang, The
PRIOR CONTRACTS Capture of Fugitive Murderborg Killtopian Gamma, The
Disappearance of Calcyon Incorporated Princeling Heroth III,
The Capture Of The Great Odessa-Ger: Slip-Warp Thief
40
The sole master of an ancient dimension-altering artifact and an excellent bounty hunter, she tears
through and disturbs spacetime to capture targets in bubbles of unreality for easy transport.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Kess Neha-Sketh operates out of a refurbished farmstead in the Grain Sector Stars of
the Regulus Domain. Her main form of communication is a simple small-band Tele-Net
connection; if the line is busy, or Kess is unavailable, please reconnect again later. Kess
maintains no answering-machine service on this Tele-Net line.
Kess accepts all standard physical-form galactic trade currencies. Fees and total contract
rate can be lowered by offering up rare or archaic star charts, especially ones depicting the
outer marches or other unexplored sectors. Payment should be delivered by priority-class
courier: half up-front, half upon target delivery.
HISTORY ON FILE
A consummate bounty hunter, Kess Neha-Sketh has made a large splash in the industry
since first appearing in Star Core Alliance space 1.3 decacycles ago. With the aid of the
Kandmerian Ritual Staff, a strange instrument that responds to her will alone, Kess can
create bubbles in spacetime, exposing an alternate realm of mysterious matter that can
envelop objects from our own reality. Skillfully wielding the staff allows Kess to manipulate
the size of these “unreality bubbles’’ and control their movement once formed. By some quirk
of metaphysics looking through one small segment of unreality allows Neha-Sketh to look
through any bubble of unreality, giving her the ability to keep surveillance up on distant
targets for long periods of time as long enough bubbles are around and remain hidden, even
across entire star systems in extreme circumstances. When formed into much larger volumes
the bubbles can surround and absorb anything they touch into their center, placing them in
a form of weightless stasis beyond the reach of time. When agitated with enough force these
bubbles can rupture, an implosion that releases enough raw energy to cause serious damage
to armored material and living tissue. When prodded gently, the bubble simply pops and any
prisoner is released into our reality, mostly none the worse for wear.
Used in combination, these uncanny abilities allow Kess Neha-Sketh to hunt and track
fugitive targets without needing to be in visual contact herself, defeat them in close quarters
combat to immobilize them, and then seal them away for painless (for her) transportation
towards their ultimate destination. How this interesting artifact of an unknown species
operates is a question of intense interest to the scientific community, but Kess herself has
steadfastly refused to part with it willingly, and a few unsanctioned and unauthorized thefts
have revealed it to be a single and hollow piece of unknown mineralogical origin, wrapped
tightly in thread along its haft and inoperable when not in Kess’s able hands. Discouraging
further attempts to understand its origin without her consent, these aforementioned thieves
were never able to report back to their employers, and their true fates remain unknown, their
findings released publicly by Kess herself.
Besides the obvious power and potential danger the artifact holds, there is another reason
Kess Neha-Sketh is so protective of it: it is her sole remaining tie to her actual system of
origin. While normally reticent about her life before appearing in our quadrant, enough
friends and longtime clients have let slip small details shared with them over drinks to
generate a likely if unconfirmable life story for Kess.
A small-time thief from an isolated culture unconnected to our wider galactic society, a
young Kess relied on her ill-gotten take to provide for a farming family on the brink of ruin
41
due to a string of bad weather and crop failures that had struck planet-wide. Taking one last
job before vowing to find another way to support her siblings, Kess and a small team broke
into an ancient and hidden burial complex of a long deceased Kandmerian empire. From
here the story is less clear, but during some sort of inter-party conflict one team member fully
turned against the others and attempted to take everything for themselves. In the battle that
followed several of the thieves were killed and multiple artifacts were activated, including the
one Kess still carries. After using the strange staff to protect the few of her teammates that
remained and confronting the betrayer in a final showdown, Kess was immobilized entirely
by a yet unknown artifact that surrounded her with a strange beam of overpowering light.
Eventually regaining her sight and her movement, Kess discovered that instead of being
deep in the center of a dark and musty mortuary complex, she had been transported into the
middle of the Star Core Alliance’s Capital Square Boulevard during rush hour traffic.
Barely surviving being made a nameless roadside statistic due to her highly trained
agility, a confused and erratic Kess was unable, however, to make herself intelligible to
any passing citizen. A true stranger in a strange land, it took time for the culture shock to
wear off, although the support and resources the Alliance Immigration Bureau provided
certainly eased the transition. Quickly learning Galactic Standard and receiving her
general stipend, Kess attempted to charter flights back to her home system but found all
galactic records lacking the star formations she knew by heart. Dismayed and desperate,
Kess kept searching fruitlessly, buying archive after archive of advanced outer reach
survey reporting hoping against hope she could piece together a way back. Eventually
finding her stipend insufficient to organize full expeditions herself, a friend suggested to
Kess that more rare and antique star maps might have the information she was looking
for. Lacking other options for funding and discovering the full potential of the staff
through trial and error, Kess applied for and received full Star Core Alliance Applied
Force Agent Accreditation and began her now highly successful career as an agent-for-
hire to fund further investigation and research.
While having brought hundreds of contracts to a successful close, Kess Neha-Sketh
seems to have her mind always elsewhere when not on the job. Collecting as many star
maps as she can get her hands on, her farmhouse-
base is a cluttered hive of pinpoint dots and
intertwined speculative markings. Imported
number-crunchers devour and recalculate infinite
permutations of star drift possibility and Kess’s
own handmade records number in the dozens of
collected volumes. While yet unsuccessful in her
search, it seems when the day finally comes Kess
will not return empty handed: In her fields she has
cultivated a new strain of weather-resistant grain
crop, one tailored for her native soil.
42
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Excerpt of Reply to Miss Neha-Sketh, Arcturan Astrological Consultations

“...assuming your charts are perfectly accurate, there are still several explanations
for why this search might be so difficult, I assure you. Our corner of the galaxy
is one rife with strife, and a combined universal galactic map based on all free
knowledge hasn’t been attempted for four centacycles or so. Private institutions
hoard their survey maps with potent jealousy, and less savory star-states will
destroy records to keep installations secret. Gravitational distortion might account
for the difficulty in attaining a perfect match to your own hand-crafted charts, but
I don’t believe if the system was in the existing records your number-crunchers
would have difficulty making the adjustment. I know you don’t want to hear it Kess,
but you know I’m always an honest friend: I think it might be worth considering
you’ve been displaced by time and space together, instead of space alone. It’s
the worst case scenario for sure, and one I truly hope we don’t find ourselves in,
but just in case I recommend setting the number-crunchers to work on star drift
simulations. In the meantime, you know we’ll always stay hard at work over here
passing along what new charts we can. Best wishes to you, and good luck out
there.”
43
GREENHORN: FISOR THRAN
ALIASES Thransy Goldtooth, Big Runt

Skorps CT-2 Energy Carbine with Scope, Modified
WEAPONS Side-Loading “Mulcher” Handgun with Affixed Bayonet
The Theft of Crime-Tyrant Corinthia’s Prized Hovercar Fleet, The Return
PRIOR CONTRACTS of Horatio Moonshower’s Stolen Venusian Cat, The Intimidation of
Underfleet Sub-Captain Nelson, The Protection of the Youngest Calcyon
Incorporated Heiress on her way to Primary School
44
A new face on the scene, a tough bruiser with several personal security, debt collection, and
asset retrieval contracts under his belt and eager to prove himself ready for more.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Fisor operates out of a modest apartment above a garage in the lower segments of
Mooncity Cervantes Habitat Spire. A Private priority-contact Info-Net address is provided
by the Burzok Foundation upon request, but Fisor Thran also maintains his own personal
Info-Site where prospective negotiators may view his record and schedule contact directly for
a meeting in a public setting.
Thran accepts all standard interstellar trade currencies. Due to his rookie status, Fisor
Thran is one of the most budget-friendly options in the Burzok Foundation’s roster, and
shrewd negotiators with mid-level contracts could do well to stress exciting or glamorous
aspects of the contract’s details or challenge in order to entice the glory-seeking youngster.
Fisor Thran maintains a fervent interest in vintage Internal Combustion Craft, and has also
accepted rare engine parts or hard to find full body kits in exchange for the completion of
larger contracts.
HISTORY ON FILE
Born the youngest runt in a brood of 12, Fisor wasn’t expected to see his second cycle in the
terminally resource-strapped world of his origin. Instead of being devoured by his stronger
siblings however, as was normal for his species, Fisor Thran proved unusually resilient and
enduring. Fighting them off without surrender for his first three cycles, Thran eventually
earned a place of respect in his brood unit as the toughest of the runts. Carried around on
the shoulders of his larger sisters, his infectious enthusiasm spread throughout the whole
unit, and as their unofficial mascot, Fisor kept the family’s morale up as they battled other
brood units in their generation sector over resources and safe resting places. As he reached
adulthood the Thran broodgen had become one of the most successful in the sector’s history,
attaining a level of power and comfort as new broodlings that was unusual in their society.
Safe and secure now, and growing stronger and larger with the help of his siblings, the
young Fisor took to watching imported Holo-Vid dramas from off-world in between bouts of
training. Growing increasingly enamored with the fictionalized exploits of the more famous
mercenary specialists, Fisor Thran set his mind on joining their illustrious ranks. Calling
upon his siblings for aid, he was able to scrape by with enough off-world trade currency to
purchase a one-way ticket off-rock to one of the local Habitat Spires, a location similar to the
setting of the holo-dramas he was such a fan of. Although a tearful farewell it must have been
to leave his beloved family behind, to this day Fisor Thran keeps in regular contact with his
older sisters and is never far removed from the latest news back home.
Landing on Mooncity Cervantes without many possessions to his name, the culture shock
was a touch paralyzing to Fisor. Perhaps naively expecting that instant success hiring himself
out as a mercenary was obligatory, with his encyclopedic knowledge of the fictional drama-
tales of famous mercenary heroes to call upon, Fisor instead spent a rough and unsteady
cycle as an under-city inhabitant. Without the contacts or trust required to establish proper
credentials, the only work he could acquire were small jobs by private citizens. Calling upon
the indomitable spirit that kept him alive as a broodling, however, he took to each task as
seriously as any other, and his employers were only ever fully satisfied with the work he put
out for them. Gaining a reputation as a bit of a local character, the eccentric off-worlder
is respected as a charming, if naive, tough guy. Physically imposing (although of below
45
average stature for his species), somewhat childish (in a kind-hearted fashion), and endlessly
hard-working, Fisor Thran makes friends quickly and leaves a strong impression. Through
a few more cycles of grinding out low-level contracts Fisor has also finally established the
credentials he found elusive on his first landing, and has recently taken on mid-level contracts
for established entities, represented by the Burzok Foundation.
The question of if this young rookie is destined to reach the heights of fame that followed
the mercenaries that inspired him seems a moot one. If such fame is possible, Fisor Thran
won’t stop grinding until he gets there. Head always forward and feet planted on firm soil,
he takes each step with purpose and care, leaving in his wake a trail of satisfied employers
and grateful clients. For more established firms it may seem that taking a chance on this
newcomer is a great risk, but an opportunity to meet with one who may, by will alone, end up
becoming one of the field’s true shining stars might be a risk worth taking.
46
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Local Holonet Interview Segment: Rumble Racers On The Dirt Drome

Anne Starshine, CHN 6: So what drives you to race these antiquated contraptions
around a muddy arena? What do you say to detractors who claim this whole event
is just a waste of time?
Fisor Thran, Local Racer: Ah jeez, I dunno. They’re loud I guess. Loud and fast
and you feel how fast they’re going when you take a turn and the force pushes
you down into the seat. Those new Hovercars are neat too, yeah? They can get
faster, and they’ve got all those neat things they can do these old cars can’t.
But sometimes that’s too much right, you take a turn and the Hovercar has all
these counterbalances so you don’t even feel the force of the turn anymore and
the engines are so quiet you’re not sure it’s even on except for that little hum.
Meanwhile you’ve got Rosie here, right? Uh, Rosie’s the car name, you have to
name the cars, right? You’ve got Rosie here, and when you turn the engine on she
roars, you hit the throttle and reach redline and she’s screaming for blood, right?
Screaming for more oil ‘cause that’s what she runs on and her heart is on fire. And
that big loud sound gets in your ears, and it carries down into your bones and all
through your blood too, and now your heart is on fire and now you want more oil
and you don’t even need oil, ‘cause you’re drinking some Agarthian Cola instead,
right? But you feel that connection, and now you and the car are one and you
aren’t even thinking about changing gears or how much throttle or brake you’re
giving, you’re just taking the turns like one beast. Like one of those uh, with the
legs, those Denebian Reptaurs you know. And I guess I just think that’s cool and I
have fun, and the fans have fun, so yeah. That’s what I say, I guess.
Anne: Ah, I see. Well, thank you for your time Mr. Thran.
Thran: Oh no problem, any time. Have a great one now!
47
VANGUARDSMAN: HELMUT GRUETTER VON SCHIRMACHER
ALIASES Die Stahlfaust, Leslie Woodford

Relic High-Venusian Zweihander, Relic High-Venusian
WEAPONS Halberd, Star Core Alliance G5 Grenade Launcher
The Storming of Highwatch Prison Complex G-Delta, The
PRIOR CONTRACTS Algorabian Royal Jewelry Heist, The Battle of Seventh Sword
Cay, The Scouring of Calcyon Incorporated Research Station
3-56
48
An extraordinary combatant, the leader of a tight-knit band of well-drilled
companions with a penchant for flash and daring.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Helmut and his associates operate out of a series of historic rest stops and public houses
along the ancient High Venusian Jump Network. Personal meetings are highly recommended
owing to Helmut’s specific preferences, but are not mandatory as the Burzok Foundation can
provide on-site representation no matter where the troupe is currently located.
Helmut prefers trades in archaic currency, and has a propensity for collecting gems and
attractively minted coin work. Prospective clients should keep in mind Helmut and his
associates are hired as a collective and should adjust their contract proposals accordingly,
preparing for higher rates than single agents would offer. While boasting a prodigious
career with a wide variety of contract applications, certain contracts are better left to other
free agents, owing to Helmut’s specific proclivities. Especially discouraged are corporate
espionage work requiring subtlety or industrial sabotage work needing high technical
proficiency.
HISTORY ON FILE
Enamored with the famous Holo-Stars from an early age, a young Leslie Woodford began
work as a Tri-Vid actor but did not find the immediate success he had hoped for. Bit parts
and walk-on roles comprised the majority of his work for many cycles, and even shifting
to fashion modeling and eventually stage acting did little to ignite a fame he found elusive.
An earnest, new found enjoyment of the stage did give Leslie some peace of mind, but the
glamor and glitz of Rigellian Holo-Film premieres still pulled at his motivation. Eventually
a lucky break came in: an open casting call for a Holo-Film adaption of the classic High
Venusian play, The Young Prince of Neith. Having experience with several roles from that
esteemed play, Leslie finally felt his day had come as he was cast as the mercenary prince
Helmut Gruetter von Schirmacher in the adaptation. A mercenary prince leading a band
of rebels who stands in opposition to the progress of the titular Prince of Neith at several
points through the narrative, Helmut is not the primary protagonist of the play, but his
commanding presence and sympathetic monologues make him one of the most memorable
personalities in classical Venusian playcraft. Unfortunately for Leslie Woodford however, this
adaptation would never see the light of day. An unscrupulous producer had secretly placed
extensive life insurance policies on the talent and production crew for the Holo-Film and had
hired a notorious assassin band to come collect. Unaware at the time, and practicing one of
Helmut’s more famous soliloquies in his dressing room, Leslie Woodford’s life was about to
be upturned permanently.
When the first assassin had reached their mark and vaporized a now anonymous craft
service worker, Leslie was the closest actor to the scene. As a student of method acting, Leslie
was in character as Helmut at the moment, preferring to channel his thoughts through the
mind of the character. While analysis and info-net speculation about how much his method
acting contributed to the fated events of the day is a highly contentious field, it is generally
accepted that without Helmut’s bravado guiding him Leslie wouldn’t have been able to
accomplish what he did. Grabbing the prop hanger sword at his waist, Leslie kicked down
the door separating himself from craft services and gained the advantage against the assassin
who was entirely unprepared for the surprise. Before the gunner could raise their vaporizer
again Leslie had deftly tossed the sword with enough accuracy to smack them across the eyes,
49
momentarily stunning them as the rather light prop sword posed little chance of real harm.
The very sharp dagger Leslie had managed to close the distance with, however (at certain
points in the soliloquy Helmut was required to stab the table in front of him for dramatic
effect), proved much more lethal. As the rest of the craft services team began to flee for safety
one witness reported that Leslie looked incredibly serene as he cleaned the blood off of his
dagger and picked up the fallen killer’s weapon. As the witness ran down the corridor in their
panicked exit they saw Leslie leap upon the banquet table and heard his shout carry down the
hall: “What-ho Neith? A deadly trust in the dark against my merry band? Blood will fill the
hall this moon and not another drop of it from my kin. Prepare thyselves for reckoning, this
son of a clock-maker comes for you!”
By the time authorities arrived at the studio to secure the scene later in the evening, Leslie
was nowhere to be found. The studio set was in shambles and the bodies of 19 different
assassins were discovered, dispatched with a variety of props and their own weaponry. Only
two other members of production staff fell victim to the scheme of the producer, by the
official records. Less explainable was the absolute disappearance of a few other members of
the stunt team- certain traces of violence could be followed throughout the studio but, as
with Leslie, nothing of their current whereabouts could be concluded. The official release
stated that the stunt team and Leslie, being fit and having trained in play combat for the few
brawl scenes in the Young Prince of Neith, used that training and familiarity of the studio
space to quickly overpower their attackers. In shock after the bloody work was through, they
panicked and fled the scene in different directions. Official offers of amnesty did nothing
to bring them back from this supposed hiding, however. Unofficially, based on testimony
from surviving production staff and friends of Leslie, something had changed in him over
the course of the production. He had been training with the stunt team with unusual fervor,
and broke character as Helmut less and less as time wore on, taking his work home with him.
These rumors that perhaps he had finally lost himself to a role were ignored by the authorities,
certain of their own conclusion that the missing actors would turn up soon enough.
When Helmut and His Band of Daring resurfaced as private security for a gangland
kingpin two sectors over it came as quite a shock to those self-assured authorities. Leaving the
persona of Leslie behind entirely, Helmut has cut a sharp figure in the field of Applied Force.
Wearing archaic High Venusian uniforms and
using a variety of period and modern weaponry, the
Band of Daring is one of the more unique talents
on record with the Burzok Foundation. With
an excellent combat record and the support of a
rather large fellowship of like-minded adventurers
for bigger contracts, the Band of Daring has
seen tremendous success with their brand of bold
and unrestrained action. Laughing in the face of
outright destruction, striking without subtlety to
grab targets in the midst of daylight, shrugging off
odds and losses that might break the back of less
stout organizations, Helmut leads his band with
a deft hand born from his own charisma. Certain
50
His Band of Daring perform in the guise of the High Venusian mercenary band they draw
inspiration and power from. As such, negotiations themselves must also not break character,
and more modern fiat currencies will be rejected outright as the feeble products of a ruse.
Tasks involving more recent technologies can also go sour. Helmut has rather infamously
destroyed a central computer system worth over three trillion Polymer Quasarits trying to
find the “logs” that must be hidden inside to fulfill a contract. Despite these minor quirks
and a few other high profile miscommunications, Helmut and His Band of Daring have
continued to see steady work throughout the decacycle and excel at delivering customer
satisfaction. While friends and longtime fans of the actor may wonder when this stint as
Helmut may reach its end, the man himself seems content with his new role, eager for the
next stage to make a big spectacle on.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
The Death Of Helmut, Scene 47 of The Prince Of Neith

Helmut [clutching breast] : Laugh not, merry prince! The life I spill means no such
end.
One man makes no band, and time will not erase me from the hearts of those I
love.
Your throne is won, yet ever still you watch the dark for grasping hand.
Helmut: [grasping dagger] A hand with blade, the knife my own though gone I be.
I call you now, Tyrant is your name. Your own end have you made, dear Prince.
Your haste has ended you. To trample over many makes many enemies.
Helmut: [thrusting dagger into stage before him]
I go into green fields, peace is my reward.
You shall know the terror and the fear that power most baleful brings.
Ah, to drink once more, to laugh once more, with friends long departed.
I go.
[Helmut expires]
51
DEATH ORB: ASHES 2-7
ALIASES Arcturus Systems Hazardous Environment Surveyor 2-7

A Manifested Array of Internal Weapon Systems Based
WEAPONS On Slip-Warp Aberrations (Suspected)
The Burning of Kelthorian Dockyard, The Massacre at
PRIOR CONTRACTS Forsythe Field, The Crushing of the Altedores Crime Family,
The Demolition Of Calcyon Incorporated’s Home Of The Future
Prototype
52
A rolling storm of destruction, packed with dozens of weapons systems and manipulators and highly-
resistant to outside attack. Perfect for missions where chaos and collateral damage are desired and
encouraged over stealth and precision.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
ASHES 2-7 accepts contracts via direct Info-Net communication with its onboard
networking systems. All contracts are accepted without question, comment, or negotiation.
Please provide a triangulated galactic map location register set for the location you would
like ASHES to materialize at, keeping other extraneous information to a minimum. Time of
contract fulfillment can not be guaranteed, as ASHES materializes on its own schedule. Any
further contact or negotiation has so far been ignored by the ASHES unit.
ASHES 2-7 accepts only digital transfers of standard interstellar trade currencies. A flat
rate of 50,000 interstellar credit units is the standard rate asked by ASHES in almost every
situation it has been contacted, and to this date increasing the funds transferred over that
amount has not affected contract completion in any perceivable fashion. Unlike many other
agents, payment may be deferred entirely until contract completion. The Burzok Foundation
rejects any and all responsibility for any subsequent incident, events, damages, or deaths
that may occur following long deferred payment for contractual completion. It is highly
recommended that any employer complete the transfer at their earliest possible convenience.
HISTORY ON FILE
The Arcturus Systems Hazardous Environment Surveyor line was an advanced prototype
drone series intended for use in mass-scale stellar reconnaissance and survey operations.
Built rugged, with hardened electronics and a thick outer shell that could survive high
pressures and even the rigors of Slip-Warp travel, the ASHES unit prototypes were also
equipped with an extensive suite of manipulators, motivators. and enough tools and sensors
to complete a full gamut of planetary survey tests. Powered by their own internal high-output
fusion reactors and driven by a complex decision making artificial intelligence matrix, the
intended use case for the ASHES line was to be carried in large swarm units by a transport
vessel into uncharted space and set loose to explore entire sectors by themselves, maintaining
communication among each other to facilitate an efficient division of labor and then
returning to the home vessel when it was time to upload the acquired data. One of the most
expensive and ambitious undertakings attempted by the newly organized Arcturus Systems,
if the ASHES series was able to perform as advertised it would have cemented the firm as a
success for generations.
The first large-scale field test was a tremendous success, the half-capacity ASHES fleet
was deployed into a dark sector that had mostly been used as an out of the way detour route
for smugglers and had not been properly charted. The drones immediately identified all local
planetary and lunar bodies and dispersed themselves to assess them. Within a half-cycle
they had reconvened with the mother base and uploaded all data of their explorations. Of
the 480 units deployed, only a few dozen had any external damage at all, demonstrating a
capacity for their AI systems to properly assess threat and plan alternate routes that exceeded
expectations. A single ASHES unit was found to be entirely missing, however: Unit 2-7.
While studies of the onboard data of the rest of the fleet couldn’t identify the exact moment or
location this unit lost contact with the others, the rate of survival was still considered beyond
acceptable and the matter was quietly dropped. Engineers and executives made ready to
finalize the production line and prepare the proper roll-out of the ASHES series.
When a deactivated and inoperable ASHES 2-7 mysteriously reappeared on the
53
production floor overnight a few minicycles later, worries were raised. Study of surveillance
footage revealed the unit had emerged from a localized micro Slip-Warp gate directly into the
facility, bypassing all security. Engineers, immediately recognizing the threat the situation
posed, but also the opportunity for discovery were proper protocols established, moved to
isolate and quarantine the recovered ASHES unit in a properly secure and locked down
sub-facility in the lower levels of Arcturus Systems headquarters. A crack team of the firm’s
top scientists and engineers, protected with full hazardous environment hard-suits, began the
delicate and time-consuming work of properly decontaminating and deconstructing ASHES
2-7 to further understand what had even happened to it. Early results were inconclusive, and
frustratingly for the company, when ASHES 2-7 re-appeared the remainder of the ASHES
fleet became inoperable themselves. Desperate to avoid any delays in the product launch and
dissatisfied with the speed the investigation team was working at, an executive decision was
made to re-activate ASHES 2-7 fully in order to access the information contained within its
Active Intelligence Matrix.
23 minutes afterwards, Arcturus Systems was no more. A near total facility loss, the scale
of the tragedy left only a handful of living survivors who gave wildly inconsistent testimony
as to the day’s events, and very little physical evidence to base any investigation on. The case
was closed quietly by official Star Core Alliance investigation as simply another industrial
accident in the outer reaches. Info-Net sleuths continued their own investigative digging, but
with a restrictive gag order placed on the few survivors and no new physical traces coming to
light even after several cycles, even the unofficial channels gave up hope of finding the total
truth of the ASHES Incident.
It might have remained this way, were it not for a single intrepid Info-Net hacker
pulling random lines in an attempt to find any severed dormant connections for backdoor
infiltration purposes. Finding an odd private Info-Net forum severed from the rest of the
Net with only one active user generating a post every 300 milliseconds, a post that simply
asked “WHERE?”, on a lark the young hacker replied in one thread with the galactic map
coordinate set for the apartment complex across the street from his den. Within the hour
ASHES 2-7 had opened a Slip-Gate at the exact
coordinates and proceeded to tear the complex
down with a variety of handheld and onboard
weaponry, before disappearing again. When the
now-terrified hacker saw that the mysterious user
had recently replied to the coordinate post with the
demand to “PAY NOW!”, they saw no option but
to comply.
While authorities continually attempt to
lock down or destroy the address used by the
ASHES 2-7 entity to communicate, it has proved
remarkably cunning and resilient at protecting
its forum. The existence of ASHES 2-7 is now
generally considered to be common knowledge on
54
the wider Info-Net. Reappearing from the slip-warp wherever summoned, ASHES 2-7 has
sported a tremendous variety of destructive tools, different every time it materializes. Bladed
melee weapons, crushing implements, handheld firearms, high explosives, and miniaturized
capital-class weaponry have been manifested by the entity. Its own natural defenses have
been augmented by what appear to be miniaturized field wave generators of an unknown
manufacture. While Info-Net rumors of government operations and scientific expeditions
dedicated to finally dismantle, capture, or destroy ASHES 2-7 abound, it is hard to imagine
how something so elusive and resilient could ever be contained again.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Dr. Northwempton, PROJECT ASHES Lead, Investigation Team Log

“This gunk on the circuitry is organic. It is living biological material that is actively
reacting to stimuli. Where it came from and how it got inside we won’t be able
to know until we reconnect the ASHES unit to power, but I’ll be honest that I am
perplexed by what I am seeing. There are tools here that we never installed in
any ASHES unit. Some of the weaponry inside seems to be xenotech in origin, of
an unknown manufacture. That goo is all over the casing and internal bays, and
here on the circuitry I believe it is starting to make its own connections. Science
is a field of constant discovery, of course, but I truly do believe we should tell the
executive office to just obliterate this thing right now and try to restart the rest of
the units manually and individually. They probably won’t listen to me, but I have a
rather bad feeling about what will happen if we turn this thing on, as it is.”
55
SLIPSPACE TROUBADOR: MOSES ANNACHAK
ALIASES Rambler Zero
WEAPONS V5-Type Plas-Repeater, Improvised Explosives, Banjo
The Strike of the Calcyon Incorporated Mining Union, The Siege

PRIOR CONTRACTS Of The Forlorn Wish, The Last Charge Of The Starseeker Bandits,
The Revolution of Martoko Primaris, The Final Defense Of The
Alkarab Steppe
56
The perennial champion of the underdog, when resources are thin and the situation most dire, his skill
and expertise can be had for nothing more than the opportunity to immortalize the struggle in song.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Moses Annachak can be hard to pin down for direct contact. Choosing to ride the solar
rail network from star to star and wherever his heart takes him, Moses leaves prospective
employers with few options for actively courting his service. Through a mutually beneficial
arrangement the Burzok Foundation maintains a modest network of similarly itinerant
archivists who haunt the stations he often travels through, recording his ballads and
poetry for posterity in exchange for his acceptance of request notices passed along by the
Foundation. For a very reasonable fee the Foundation will attach your service request to every
package of notices that goes out to Moses for an entire cycle. More adventurous negotiators
may attempt to locate Moses among the trillion stars themselves, but if the plight suffered is
pressing enough the Slipspace Troubadour may already have made his way to the location,
drawn to where his services are needed by the call of the desperate.
Excluding the modest fee the Burzok Foundation requests to help maintain his
informant network, Moses Annachak accepts no negotiated payment for his work. Certain
employers may also be disheartened to learn that their established position and wealth may
preclude them from Annachak’s services, as Moses only seeks the employ of the forgotten,
downtrodden, or dangerously hard-pressed. Forgoing proper payment for his aid, Moses
instead feels morally obligated to help wherever he is needed and asks for only the freedom
to compose and perform music honoring the experiences of those he encounters while
performing his duty. For this reason it is not likely that Moses will accede to support large
corpo-states or imperial entities when given the opportunity, and a prospective employer
would be well served to stress the dire nature and hopeless odds they face if they desire to
bring Moses into their fold.
HISTORY ON FILE
Moses Annachak has always felt like he was born to be the loser. Raised in a working class
family in an imperial mining sector, prospects were dim for the adventurous youth. Lacking
the resources or connections to gain enrollment into the local academy, any education higher
than the standard imperial competency instruction was denied to Moses. He instead spent
his adolescent years helping his family run the sector’s mining commissary, a duty they had
been assigned to for decacycles. The drudgery of hauling, organizing, and delivering the
mandatory nutrient packages to the remote mining outposts around the sector from suns-rise
to suns-set was grueling. The monotony might have broken a more fragile spirit, but Moses
found strength in absorbing the stories the veteran miners would share around the heat-waver
as he helped them unpack their rations. Stories of the cycles before the yoke of imperium,
the wild days of the early Plutonium Rush. Stories of explorers and pirates, gun slinging
bandits and quick-handed sword fighters, well-remembered stories of the battles between the
independent mining contractors as they defended their claims, and the ever present sense of
loss as the once grand rivers choked and dried up and the forests gave way to desolate mining
pits when the imperial engineers moved in.
These romances of a forgotten era fascinated Moses and helped carry him through his long
work shifts, where his father would drive their loader-truck through desolate terrain that left
little else to talk about. Retelling the stories learned at each mining pit to his father during
57
what little free time the family could spare. Moses picked up the banjo quickly, and was soon
writing his own ballads adapted from the stories of the old-timers.
Even with song to buoy his spirits however, the work assigned to him was still back-
breaking and miserable. Winters in the mining sector were incredibly harsh and lasted most
of the working season, with imperial administrators only allowing workers to pull back to
the more temperate equator bands when conditions became unequivocally fatal. The rough
conditions eventually took a permanent toll on Moses’s father, leaving him bedridden and
unable to work, without hope of recovery. Taking on the job entirely by himself, Moses
worked triple shifts to afford the treatment to stabilize his father and continue to take care
of his mother and sisters. He no longer had time to listen to the old tales, and as the cycles
marched forwards the old hands who would have told those stories began disappearing
themselves, laid low by the implacable erosion of time. Time eventually claimed his father
too, and at perhaps too young an age Moses Annachak was forced by circumstance to lay his
own father below the soil. The sector asked so much and gave so little. Soon it would give
even less in return. As the mines emptied out around the sector, imperial administration
ordered a general pullout, anything too heavy to carry off of the homesteads was burned
to deny them to any company that tried to follow in the wake of the empire. All mining
personnel were given a meager completion bonus and solar rail fare to another imperial
mining settlement. Moses helped prepare his mother and sisters for the journey and sent
them off ahead to the station while he finished stowing the last of the valuables around their
home, promising to take the next passage off planet to meet them.
When he spied the forgotten banjo lying in the corner, bereft of strings and dusty from
disuse, something broke inside of Moses Annachak. The weight and pain of all his labor,
the bittersweet memories of those nearly forgotten days playing his own ballads to cheer
up his sickly father, the taste of freedom and adventure spoken of by the now long-gone old
timers, all of this and more came flooding into his mind. For the first time in his life, Moses
Annachak wept freely. He took the few valuable pieces of jewelry left inside, packed a few
extra outfits into his sack, and cradled the banjo gently underneath his coat as he stepped into
the snow and towards the station. Moses was about to do something else he had never done
before by the end of suns-set. Moses was about to break a promise.
When the solar transport rolled into the station the next system over, Moses never got
off. Hiding in the stowage cart he kept riding the rail as far as it would take him, and he
hasn’t stopped riding the rails since. He has acquired new things along the way: A rusted
plas-repeater taken from a thief who tried to murder his fellow rail-riders in the middle of
the night. New strings for his banjo given as a gift by a smuggler desperate to return home
that Moses managed to hide from rail security. A jacket bequeathed by a fallen gunslinger,
one slain by imperial agents to keep their prior contracts secret eternally and who Moses was
unable to protect. The most noteworthy addition
Moses has made in his several cycles as a rambler
is that of a peculiar Proximian Sleuth, however.
Seeger, as she is called, follows Moses with a
devotion unusual for these capricious and hardly-
domesticated vermin catchers. Never leaving his
side willingly, her warning growls and surprisingly
vicious bite have made her a true guardian when
Moses was at his most vulnerable.
Moses no longer recalls how long ago it was
since he left his family waiting at a station he never
intended to walk out of. Something in his heart
kept pulling him onwards, to seek new sights and
new stories, to throw himself into conflicts he knew
58
shouldn’t be able to win, just because it felt like the right thing to do at the time. He has
gained experience in the field quickly, guarding pilgrims, enrolling as a revolutionary trooper,
riding with notable outlaws, assaulting corpo installations with environmental activists.
He has learned how to field-dress wounds, how to maintain a barricade against assaulting
weapons teams, how to break a man’s leg in so many different ways before he can draw a
blaster on you. Moses has lived through tremendous triumph but has also experienced as
much sorrow, for every successful mission he embarks upon there are many that proved too
hopeless for him to overcome. Moses feels no shame about these failures, these are causes he
proudly took up anyways, knowing defeat was inevitable. He records these fallen movements
in verse and string, and to many the songs of Moses Annachak are the only records of a
vanishing galaxy, one being steadily replaced in the great halls where power and ambition lie,
by engineers who care not what havoc their grandiose plans wreak upon the less fortunate.
His ballads sing the praises of the widow and the beggar, the rebel and the lawbreaker, lovers
and fighters alike. Moses has seen much now in his lifetime and fears little, but one obligation
still paralyzes him: For all of his travels, Moses Annachak has not yet found the rhyme, tune,
lyric, or words that would allow him to face his family again and finally apologize. Until he is
able to work up that courage, the solar rails still call his name.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
The Burzok Foundation Record Label: The Songs Of Annachak Volume 26

There’s A Glory In The Secret House
Jumping Joe Jordan
No Biscuits Until We Reach High Road
The Dying Rebel Under The Green Moon
Ten Piece
When I Get My Gun Back There Will Be Hell To Pay
Lady Lorelai
And so much more!
59
LOCKBREAKER: KREEF
The Master Key, Star Core Alliance Experimental Prototype

ALIASES Cyber-War Rig Mark II, Langosta Arthopidas
High-Voltage Electro Casting Prodder Module (for self
WEAPONS defense)
The Great Heist Of Luxury Liner Cerulean Star, The Theft Of The
PRIOR CONTRACTS Calcyon Incorporated Soft Sweetdrink Recipe, The Escape From
Grey Rock Prison, The Ransoming Of Info-Net Server Farm
Gamma-B6
60
A simple aquatic crustacean fused with an experimental and highly advanced full spectrum
cyber-war rig has become the foremost infiltrator and techno-breaker in the field.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Kreef resides in an elaborately fashioned environment tank in the lobby of the headquarters
of the Burzok Foundation, and is solely represented by the Burzok Foundation in all
negotiations. As such, facilitating contact is quite easy for the prospective employer, the
Burzok Foundation provides direct Tele-Net and Info-Net addresses to a contracting officer
upon request. Additionally, a visit to Burzok Foundation headquarters may be scheduled
during normal business hours to negotiate in person and visit Kreef in his beautiful and
award-winning salt water habitat display.
The Burzok Foundation accepts all standard interstellar trade currencies for the services
of Kreef. Prospective employers need not provide extensive dossiers of the technical
specifications of expected defenses and security protocols as Kreef more than likely already
contains more detailed information in his own data banks. Transportation to the area
of operations is provided by the Foundation, but situations that require more difficult
landings and retrieval may incur a large service fee to cover the cost. It is also advised that
employers employ a device that can interface with a local Info-Net address for mid-mission
communication, as Kreef is inconsistently responsive to verbal commands, and somatic
signals only seem to confuse him. Direct digital communication with the cyber-war helmet
has the best results and shows the fastest response times. Be warned that tampering with
Kreef ’s cyber-war rig in any fashion without his consent will incur the employer a steep three
billion standard interstellar credit (or local equivalent) penalty, and a possible blanket refusal
of service reclassification from the Burzok Foundation depending on the severity of the
infraction. The Burzok Foundation would like to remind agents, proxies, and officials of the
Star Core Alliance that while we appreciate their custom and have many other agents who
will gladly take their requests, due to the actions of several bad actors the Burzok Foundation
has placed a blanket refusal of service classification on any contracts originating from the Star
Core Alliance for the services of Kreef.
HISTORY ON FILE
If not for a quirk of happenstance, Kreef would simply be a nameless if colorful example
of his native species, a common crustaceaform originating on the water-dominated planet of
Beta Tarf. Considered non-sentient fauna by the scientific community, Langosta Arthopidas
are typical scavengers that mostly feed off of what falls to the sea floor, but occasionally
actively hunt smaller shellfish and sea worms with their large claws, digging into the sand to
grab and crush prey. A behavior unique to the species however is their usage of a wide variety
of salvaged objects they have been recorded fashioning into shells as they molt and grow
larger. It is not unusual for them to use their powerful claws to tear pieces off of the starship
debris that is regularly pulled into the gravity well of the planet and sinks below the waves.
Fashioning these fragments into armored shells, Langosta is well protected from larger
predators. What Kreef pulled out of the surf and fashioned his shell out of one fateful day was
not merely a piece of derelict flotsam, however.
The Star Core Alliance insists that the Experimental Prototype Cyber-War Rig Mark
II must be recognized as stolen property and returned immediately, but whatever fate
befell its original owner and left only the helmet buried in the sand of a Beta Tarfan
beach remains highly classified. The rig is one of the most advanced full spectrum control
61
centers for physical and electronic hacking yet devised, with wide-ranging communication
systems, a full complement of infiltration tools packed into storage, dozens of high speed
computational engines for code-breaking, and an incredibly dense data bank network that
was loaded with an absolute treasure trove of known ciphers, handshake protocols, and other
various military secrets. An onboard synapse jack connection that bridged the hardware
with the operator’s nervous system directly, and an advanced artificial intelligence assistant
designed to ease navigation and accelerate the speed of use rounded out the design. The rig’s
onboard memory reveals that when the then-unnamed crab placed it upon its back, the rig
was activated, registering it as the new user and then activating the synapse jack system to
complete the registration. As the cables wound their way into the gaps of the crab’s carapace,
they miraculously completed the fusion and connected directly to the brain-stem instead
of tragically killing the creature. While it may be expected that the shock and flood of such
a surge of new information might fry an unprepared mind entirely, instead a small spark of
consciousness began to grow in the young crab.
When Kreef first encountered Burzok Foundation researchers attempting a field study
cycles later, he had become irritable and aggressive, confused by the data the cyber-war rig
was constantly feeding into his mind. Charging forward with all the rage that a small crab
body can possess, it took several interns to wrangle and subdue the furious crustacean.
Captured and placed in a proper holding tank for further study, Kreef was packed away
for transport to a larger facility along with the other captured specimens. On-board
this transport vessel, the flood of numbers, pictograms, and passcodes the rig had been
bombarding Kreef with night and day finally began to make sense to the crab. Where his old
home was comprised of sand and sea that stretched across the horizon, here deep in the belly
of the cargo section were communication networks and hardened technological systems,
systems the cyber-war rig had been designed to infiltrate and crack.
When the researchers set off for the return trip, they had no conception of the ordeal to
which they were about to be subjected. Kreef had quickly escaped the confines of his holding
tank using the lockpicking tools hidden inside the helmet. Without malice in his heart, but
simply seeking to explore the boundaries of his newly found environs, Kreef began accessing
and causing havoc on every connected subsystem of the transport ship. Lights flickering,
doors closing and opening automatically, audio systems broadcasting unsettling tones and
fragments of whispered conversation at all hours over the course of the entire trip, the crew
and researchers became half convinced they were being tormented by a manifestation of the
old void traveler stories of the haunting entities from beyond. When Kreef began testing his
installed dictionary of languages using the wireless communication terminals of the research
staff, however, one intrepid intern decided to make direct contact with the entity. When
asked by the researcher, “Who is communicating with us, and what do you want?”, the crab
responded with only three words, sent one after the
other to the terminal: Click. Click. Kreef. Whether
this was truly what the crab considered its own
name or was simply the crab picking words from
the dictionary file at random, the name Kreef stuck
and further communication between the intern
and Kreef established a bond of friendship that
continues to this very cycle.
Now happily homed inside an elaborate
reconstruction of a Beta Tarfan reef sector, Kreef
has become well familiarized with the arts of
cracking and infiltration, regularly testing himself
against challenges his attending research team
prepares for him when he’s not on loan in the field.
62
Throughout the cycles Kreef has demonstrated an increasing awareness and sense of self,
and still unknown whether this capacity for intelligence is entirely due to the influence of the
cyber-war rig connected to his brain-stem or if the rig is simply facilitating communication
that would be otherwise impossible due to the difference in anatomy, but as of this printing
no further experiments with cyber-war rig implantation of Langosta Arthopidas have been
sanctioned by the Interstellar Science Council.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Burzok Foundation Transcript of Digital Debrief Interview With Doctor

Lazenby
Lazenby: “Are you sleeping, now?”
Kreef: “Was. No More. What Is Needed?”
Lazenby: “I just want to ask you some questions about the last mission you were
on, is that okay?”
Kreef: “Is Fine.”
Lazenby: “The client has lodged a complaint of non-compliance owing to your

conduct in the middle of the infiltration, do you know why that is?”
Kreef: “Hiss. Annoyance. I Know.”
Lazenby: “Please elaborate.”
Kreef: “Mission Is Safe Heist. Kreef Is Team-Member. Many Comrades. Security

Stronger. Thief Luisa Is Kreef Guard. Go Down To Floor. Much Blood. Not Well.
Kreef Stop Cracking. Kreef Grab And Take Thief Luisa To Place That Is Safe.
Mission Interrupted. Client Angry-Type. Kreef Care Not. Luisa Safe. Continue
Mission. Crack Safe. Acquire Gold. Mission Complete. All Safe. All Go Home. Why
Complaint? Annoyance.”
Lazenby: “Did you know Luisa well?”
Kreef: “No. Not Important. Was Right Thing To Do. Yes. That Is How Kreef Feel. Do
What I Feel.”
Lazenby: “Very, very interesting. Thank you for your time, I’ll leave you for now. I’ll
bring some sweet fish to you in the morning, fresh from the market. Reward for a
job well done, but rest well until then, okay?”
Kreef: “Love Sweet Fishes. Goodnight Intern Lazenby.”
63
THE BARON: SULLIVAN POE-HESSIAN
WEAPONS The Mind

The Razing Of Zarstan Manor, The Loss Of The Grand Belravian Imperial Wine
PRIOR CONTRACTS Cellar, The Toppling Of Castle-Fortress Portero-On-The-River, The Destruction
Of President Horogrey’s Prized Hovercar Fleet, The Deletion Of Calcyon
Incorporated’s Genetic Research Library, The Collapse Of Mega Oppression
Tower One
64
An aristocratic Trade-Lord with plentiful resources and extensive connections, Sullivan is able to access the
grandest palaces and most secure manors throughout the galaxy and commit untraceable sabotage through the
use of his innate and powerful telekinetic manipulations.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Sullivan Poe-Hessian is often engaged in far-ranging travel to distant stars to maintain
his business empire and his status as one of the foremost Trade-Lords in the galaxy. When
not directly involved in business matters, Poe-Hessian is equally devoted to maintaining his
large network of charitable institutions and foundations, preferring to control them directly
as much as possible. Due to this rather packed schedule, direct face to face negotiation for
Baron Poe-Hessian’s Applied Force services are unusually difficult to schedule. The Burzok
Foundation instead prefers if prospective employers submit contract applications in the form
of compiled proposals, with a profile of the target, structural information on the location
to be sabotaged, and lists of acceptable and desired outcomes of the sabotage. This proposal
document will be passed along to Baron Poe-Hessian at the earliest possible convenience.
It will also remain confidential and anonymized, even if the proposed contract is rejected,
ensuring the privacy of the client.
Poe-Hessian accepts all standard interstellar trade currencies. Pricing his time as a very
valuable commodity, the negotiated fees for his services are rather high, and are placed
mainly in the domain of the independently wealthy, the established nobility, or imperial
administrators of notable rank. The Baron maintains employer-confidentiality as a prime
tenet of his work ethic, and too many prying questions about previous contracts he has
fulfilled may be grounds for immediate contract termination. Donations to any of the Baron’s
charitable institutions are greatly appreciated, but will not affect the timing of services
provided or the quality of service received.
HISTORY ON FILE
For much of the wanting and hungry galaxy, His Royal Eminence, Prince Baron Sullivan
Poe-Hessian, Trade-Lord of The Third House is nothing less than a hero among beings,
providing housing, food, and medical care to many in need, without expectation of return.
Paid for directly from his own sizable treasury, Poe-Hessian funded charities and social
workers are a common sight in impoverished sectors, and their work is noticeably easing the
burdens on vulnerable sections of galactic society. Baron Poe-Hessian is uncharacteristically
evasive when asked what drove him to establish such a monumental undertaking, simply
joking, “Well I eventually got tired of seeing all the money around, I’m trying to see how hard
it is to get rid of it all!”
The Baron is a rather eccentric figure among the ranks of the Trade-Lords. Despite his
aristocratic origin he has established no large estate realm or palatial-house, instead resting
in small and modest quarters provided by a meager housing fund established for his benefit.
The Baron spends freely on physical luxuries such as drink, fine food, and imported quality
textiles, but has little interest in accumulating physical objects that serve to showcase his vast
wealth. Instead, the Baron invests heavily in public infrastructure and art, having established
several of the most noteworthy libraries, museums, Cine-View centers, and nature preserves
throughout the galaxy. The Baron’s magnanimous nature and boisterous personality have
made him a beloved figure to the general public, but behind the closed doors of high society
he is spoken about in more hushed and sinister tones.
To the wealthy and the powerful, Baron Poe-Hessian is seen and known primarily as an
agent of destruction whose presence brings disaster. His power and influence is too grand
65
to outright refuse his custom, and to accuse him openly of the misconduct he is suspected
of would be tantamount to bringing absolute ruin upon your head. Several have made the
mistake and paid dearly for it. The Baron is a careful individual. When he manifests the
psychokinetic abilities he has inherited from his progenitors he does not do so like a thug
or cutthroat, slashing and burning and leaving the markings of his handiwork across every
surface. When Baron Poe-Hessian accepts a sabotage contract in exchange for further
funding of his charity network, he does the job cleanly, thoroughly, and in a subtle enough
fashion that he is absolved of direct responsibility. An amateur might simply lash out with
their mind and smash several foundation columns, leaving in a hurry at the wake of the
destruction they wrought. The Baron is more tactful. He arrives in style at a function or
gala, and spends the evening carousing and entertaining guests with tales of his travels. All
the while, he is focusing mentally on the ground beneath the manor, reaching out far from
his physical form to push and pull at the land the foundation rests on. The work is long, and
may not even be completed at the end of this party, but the Baron has time and there will
always be another gala to attend. When minicycles later the once beautiful manor palace
has sunk too far into the foundation to be habitable any longer, the Baron is blameless. An
accident of nature, a flaw in the design, the alibis are many and exhaustive. He’ll send cards of
condolences for sure, and being ever the generous and shrewd trader, he may even offer to buy
the land at a reduced price to help out his dear friend, so stricken by tragedy and desperately
needing funds to facilitate their move.
Over dozens of cycles the Baron has played the jealousies of the crust of society against
themselves, often being hired by those he has sabotaged to retaliate against those they suspect
of hiring him previously. In most situations he profits from each venture, able to obtain land
and property at fire-sale prices to enrich the holdings of his charitable empire. On the site of
many a once-proud palace now sits a Poe-Hessian Food Distributory. While the suspicious
nobility may thus see Sullivan Poe-Hessian as merely a disaster to be suffered, or perhaps like
the ancient stories, a destructive spirit to be bargained with, they may not ignore his presence.
For even with so much of his Trade-Lord treasury being emptied out to fund his charitable
works, he still remains an incredibly astute
businessman and influential figure in galactic
society. When the Baron arrives it is in your best
interest to allow him inside and simply hope he is
truly there for pleasure and companionship, not to
further work his subtle sabotage.
For the average citizen, he remains a blameless
and eccentric philanthropist. The Poe-Hessian
Charity Network grows ever-larger with each
cycle, and soon plans on establishing full education
centers across the galaxy. While desperately needed
in more remote sectors, the move to establish them
in the major centers of galactic population has
drawn some suspicion by more astute ministers
and imperial administrators. By all accounts and
66
records, the Baron’s charity work is above-board and beneficial, but a nagging doubt remains
that his reach and ambition far outstrip simply being a beloved Trade-Lord. Long has the
imperious throne of the Trade-Emperor remained merely an empty seat, carved of ancient
stone, but perhaps it will soon be filled again.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
G-Star Private Investigation Organization, Field Notice From Agent Nine

“I suggest we write this one off. I’ve exhausted every avenue of investigation
I have. We have a full itinerary of The Baron’s movements from the moment
he entered the building, and he was occupied almost the entire time. The few
moments he had to himself he still never moved from his spot, and I think we can
entirely discount the client’s idea that he avoided all the inward facing security
systems, walked up four flights of stairs then planted some sort of untraceable
super bomb that was able to destroy the entire plumbing system without leaving
any physical trace, just in time to get back down to the party. To me this just looks
exactly like what the first claims adjuster said it was: poorly installed piping finally
reaching the breaking point and flooding the whole manor. The threading was
loose, the installation was shoddy, and it finally gave way. The home was unused
most of the cycle, and the Baron wasn’t even in this quadrant of the star sector
when it broke. At best, the client could try expanding our contract and we could
investigate whoever installed the system in the first place, but I’m pretty tired of
door knocking at this point and I just want to go on my damn vacation. I reiterate:
write this one off.”
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PRIME DUELIST: COCQ MASSIF
ALIASES Young Flashbulb, Steed, The King

Custom L-Slatz Single Action Slug Loader with Engraved
WEAPONS Handle
The Hunt For Pirate Lord Alberto, The Protection of Opera-
PRIOR CONTRACTS Queen Hyella against the 99 Assassins of Rom, The Retrieval
of the Stygian Drone Fleet Codex from the Endless Whirl, The
Victor of the Blood Duel at Angstrom Quadratic Ranch
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A flashy and quick-witted gentleman-gunfighter with an unbeaten record in the dueling arena.
Perfect for personal security and skilled at infiltration missions where success and not subtlety is
the primary object.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
An itinerant rambler and habitual gambler, Mr. Massif makes contact with employers at
nearby casino complexes or hole-in-the-wall drinking dens where gamblers can be found.
For employers who do not wish to partake of any disreputable establishments, the Burzok
Foundation will provide an on-site negotiator surrogate.
Accepts all standard interstellar trade currencies. Due to a constant accrual of gambling
debts, Massif may be rather desperate to recieve payment up front when contacted. Savvy
or ruthless negotiators may be able to exploit this to drive down contract fees, if the right
pressure is applied. As a creature of comfort, Massif can also be plied with rare luxury goods
or sumptuous clothing to also lower the rate of his contract fee.
HISTORY ON FILE
A shy Castorian born into a family of modest means in the Delta Scorpii Sector, Cocq
Massif may have led a very simple and pleasant life as an average corpo-laborer. Massif
preferred to avoid the spotlight, and made no waves in his academic career. However, Massif
was blessed with an unusually quick reaction time, and on campus once notably intercepted a
lightning-fast gamesphere thrown wide that otherwise would have injured him. As a result of
his demonstration of skill, Massif was forcibly drafted into his secondary-school Blitz Game
team. Finding the camaraderie and thrill of the sport attractive, the wallflower Massif began
blossoming into a more athletic and forward person. When Blitz Game no longer caught
his attention, Massif began an endless treadmill of consumption, throwing himself headfirst
into any new or exciting activity that challenged him mentally or physically and abandoning
it when it bored him. It was here, in his years as a young adult, that Massif first became
acquainted with what would become his great bane: gambling. While intelligent and quick
of wit, for unknown reason Massif is a preternaturally terrible gambler, unable to win for any
meaningful stretch at anything involving dice or cards, if credits are on the line. Despite this,
he is entirely unable to resist the thrill- a tragedy that to him seems to have no solution.
While deep in debt after another bad run of luck, Massif stumbled onto a career path
that would solve his then-current money issue and established a reputation that still follows
him to this day: the Great Blood Duel Circuit. Scouted by talent agents who recognized
Massif for his work on the Blitz Game field, he found quick employment with one of the
Noble Houses. Massif became an overnight sensation, and remains to this cycle one of the
very few undefeated Champion of Champions honored by the association. While his luck
at the card table may be thin, it has never exhausted him in the dueling arena. No foe, even
when outmatched or outgunned, has gotten the better of him in the sacred ground of the
sanctioned Blood Duel arena. Seamlessly combining a penchant for flashy maneuvers, an
innate tactical brilliance, and a remarkably quick pistol draw, the showy duelist had never
wanted for fans after his first debut match against the Amazing Atlas. Despite a common and
undeserved reputation, Blood Duels are not a to-the-death bloodsport, instead being called
at first stroke. Massif and Atlas remain great friends to this day.
Although enjoying the new height of respect and income he earned as one of the brightest
stars in the circuit, Massif continued to throw himself into gambling debt after gambling
debt, and he was not able to avoid the consequences for his vice for very long. Tired of
Massif ’s long-deferred promises of repaying his maxed out credit, a casino boss hired a
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local assassin to rub out Massif before his next title fight, ensuring a massive return on the
surreptitious bets the boss had placed for a result of no contest. The night before the bout,
the assassin burst into Massif ’s penthouse suite and vaporized his head with a well-placed
shot of portable plasma, fleeing the scene afterwards and escaping without ever being
identified. Inside the suite, the party Massif had been hosting descended into screaming and
pandemonium. In a massive stroke of luck however, this was not the end of Cocq Massif.
Owing to a quirk of his Castorian biology, Massif ’s central nervous system did not
primarily reside in his head, but instead underneath the structure of his rib cage. Quick
thinking fans and attending trainers managed to stabilize the wounded but still-living
Massif, and a visiting physician made ready for a procedure to replace the missing organs
with a cybernetic prosthesis. To the Casino boss’s shock and horror, Massif appeared the next
night with his new head and easily claimed victory against his challenger. The bets he had
placed ruined the casino boss financially, and to add insult to injury his young mistress had
become quite smitten with Cocq Massif and ran off with him.
Losing his head didn’t seem to slow down Massif much in the long run, and despite
a few changes, including the loss of his ability to eat (a true sorrow to Massif, who once
considered himself a true gourmand of interstellar cuisine), Massif carried on his lifestyle
as he always had-lively and with panache. Eventually, however, a Blood Duel Commission
ban on cybernetic enhancement required Massif to retire honorably with the title Champion
of Champions, an honor rarely bestowed upon living competitors. Needing a new source
of income to fund his lavish lifestyle, Massif fell into the field of the Applied Force Agent,
where his talents as an illustrious and unmatched fighter were readily apparent to potential
employers. Marking his fifth cycle in this publication of note, Massif consistently receives
high marks for employer satisfaction and retains a legion of fans on the Info-Net eager for
news of his every exploit. With such a living legend only a Tele-Bet call away, can you afford
to pass on a chance to harness his impeccable luck for your own gain?
70
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Excerpt of Cocq Massif’s Small Notebook, obtained by an unknown source

Miss Frederica Orbisign – Lovely conversationalist, would love to hear more of her
expertise on recent advances in ancient Arkabian archaeology. I must postpone it
for another time however, as business compels me to travel to a rather distant star.
Pirate Lord Lyra of the Ninth Fleet – Perhaps the most excellent dancer I have
ever had the pleasure of treading the floor with. She invited me to visit her fleet’s
extensive collection of classic portraiture. I must make my affirmative reply at the
earliest convenience.
Her Majesty, Opera-Queen Hyella – Fantastic Mezzo-soprano, unmistakebly a

wonder of our age. Truly the award for best rendition of the Diadem Star classics
belongs to her alone. I still miss her company and her wonderful sense of humor. I
mourn her passing dearly, and am ashamed I was not able to return for one more
song.
71
PSYCHO-RONIN: NUMBER FORTY-SEVEN
WEAPONS Foreniian Greatsword, Innate Psionic Abilities

The Protection of High Prelate Dastogne of Adhafera (22
PRIOR CONTRACTS cycles), The Protection of Calcyon Incorporated Chief Executive
Officer Haley Helsworth(15 cycles), The Protection of Japester
Excellent, His Royal Pierrot, M.R. Wardegg (8 cycles)
72
A psionic warrior encased in a nearly indestructible body. A veteran specialist in close
quarters combat with vast experience leading personal security operations.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
With exceptional demand for his services and a very packed schedule, Number Forty-
Seven has very little downtime between contracts and prefers to spend his leisure time in
parts unreachable. The Burzok Foundation will provide a surrogate agent to facilitate contract
negotiations in a sector of the client’s choosing, free of charge.
Number Forty-Seven accepts all standard interstellar currencies and has a noted interest in
relics of Foreniian Imperial make. Contracts are negotiated on lengthy terms that last several
cycles, as Forty-Seven prefers long term employment and a positive working relationship
with trusted partners over a vicious cycle of short term jobs. It is advised that all employers be
polite and forthcoming during the course of contract. Falsehood, deception, and disrespect
can be grounds for contract nullification. In exceptionally flagrant examples, Forty-Seven
may see such conduct as grounds for employer termination.
HISTORY ON FILE
One of the sole surviving remnants of the ancient Foreniian Empire, Number Forty-
Seven is very evasive when pried for particular details of his early life, rebirth as an immortal
weapon of the Imperial House, or subsequent career. The archaeological record, however,
provides some answers to the origin of the taciturn warrior. In the waning days of the
Foreniian’s Imperium, when faced with tremendous threats both internal and external, an
arms development initiative was launched inside the Emperor’s household. The Imperial
science teams had long ago received great fame for their creation of an esoteric and eminently
effective order of powerful psionic warriors. This order had become the backbone of invasion
forces and the pacifiers of conquered systems, unflinching in their drive to assert imperial
dominion wherever they were deployed.
The object of the new development in the Imperial household was to combine members
of this order with a nascent and highly advanced biomechanical implant series, one created
to improve the physical resilience of these psychic warriors. The brains, spinal columns, and
nervous systems of hand-picked Psycho-Born were placed into custom-built carbotanium
synth-tek shell bodies. Ordered to serve as imperial bodyguards, this Psycho- Legion
was instrumental in maintaining an imperial household under constant internal threat.
Assassination plots from ambitious under-bureaucrats, and petty conflict between household
members escalating into open warfare, continued to wrack the Foreniian Empire even as its
hold on its corner of the galaxy was crumbling. Psychic warriors able to discern true motive
and protect against unseen but inherently felt danger, with a prodigious mastery of armed
combat, quickly found an honored place in the Imperial Household. The Psycho-Legion were
eminently favored in this new role as guardians, but as with many records from this late era of
the Foreniian Empire, the bias from the aristocratic authors of this history can obscure and
mislead the modern reader from the true events as they likely took place.
While the exact fall of the Foreniian Empire is still poorly understood, scattered records
from various corners of the empire imply a slow collapse of control over time. The Imperial
family became more reserved, drawn inwards into increasingly destructive personal battles,
and less interested in the wider Imperial governance outside of their palaces. Designed by
their creators to be impervious to outside attack, the Psycho-Troopers under the control
of individual families in the Imperial household were eventually turned on each other in a
73
conflict that devolved into an all-consuming civil war.
The exact length of this civil war remains unknown, but its eventual results are more
concrete: by the following centacycle the entire Imperial power structure was no more.
A devastated Psycho-Legion found itself with few survivors, and nothing left to protect.
Scattered throughout the sector but retaining a fearsome reputation, they continued to find
employment as personal guards for royal families and breakaway kingdoms that began to fill
the void of power left by the Foreniians. Over time, records of these Psycho-Ronin became
more sparse and confirmed destruction of members of the order took its toll on their roll of
arms. To date, Number Forty-Seven is the only known survivor of the legion- the last of the
Psycho-Ronin.
To be a Psycho-Ronin comes with many disadvantages. Forty-Seven desires long-term

contracts and personal relationships with employers due to the permanent alteration of his
sensory abilities caused by the implant process. With his psionic power enhanced but all
sense of physical sensation removed, the psychic connection to those nearby is inherently
much stronger and more intense to Forty-Seven. For the bodyguard on duty, the employer
with whom they are entrusted becomes more than just a charge: through psionic empathy the
bodyguard becomes an extension of those they protect. Reflecting their behavioral traits and
even affectations of their personality, a Psycho-Ronin is able to easily adapt to the lifestyle
of those they guard, but distance and isolation can cause them to withdraw into their own
minds. Left unchecked this process becomes extremely painful to the Psycho-Ronin, and
in at least one recorded and extreme case led to the death of the Psycho-Ronin who had
been untethered from any connection. Long abandoned in a prison considered inescapable,
they were reduced to an empty, unthinking mind in a pristine shell, devoid of any spark
of animation. Accordingly, Forty-Seven spends little time between contracts, seeking to
minimize this inherently dangerous flaw of the Psycho-Implant process.
In exchange however, Forty-Seven’s inherent psychic talents have been boosted
tremendously. Rigorously trained and honed by centacycles of combat experience, in a
close quarters situation any number of attackers would be very hard-pressed to gain even
the smallest advantage against the psionic warrior. With his natural empathic abilities, the
intentions of assassins and duplicitous courtiers
can be detected remotely and prepared for before
contact is ever made. The Psycho-Implant allows
Forty-Seven to weaponize his mental abilities into
blasts of crushing force, or manipulate the mind
of the enemy directly. The carbotanium shell that
comprises his body is impervious to assault from
most small arms and large-yield weaponry, and
capable of operation without maintenance for
such extended periods of time that there are no
known records of Psycho-Ronin failing through
purely physical deterioration. Rest is a luxury
rarely required, and Forty-Seven can maintain
an alert state for cycles on end. For all of these
reasons, his services remain in very high demand.
74
An unmatched bodyguard from an ancient age, Forty-Seven has yet to lose a charge to any
threat besides natural causes. For the ageless Psycho-Ronin, eternity is not something they
can share freely.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Surreptitious Recording Transcript, Unknown Location, Unknown Date

[behind the spoken word can be heard the rush of water against rocks and the
trilling call of yet unidentified avian lifeforms]
“The mind is one, the mind is all.
The mind is all, the mind is one.
The mind is one, the mind is all.
The mind is all, the mind is one...”
[recording continues for several dozen more hours]
75
ETERNAL STARBEAST: MECHA GIG-GHEDRATHRALL
Klor Gig (Former), Ghedrathrall Pugnetilax (Former),

ALIASES Gig-Ghedrathrall (Former)
Plasma Rotor Destructor Saw, High Outset MASER
WEAPONS Projectors, Anti-Ship Point Defense Missiles
The Annihilation of The Elnathian Conglomerated Strike
PRIOR CONTRACTS Force, The Battle Of The Star-Shorn Nebula, The Wreck Of The
Deltorian Queen, The Ambush at the Blinking Stones Mining
Complex, The Fight In Nebula Cloud Quespirion-2
76
A massive and ancient void creature enhanced with modern technology and combined with the cunning and
drive of a tenacious hunter form a truly potent terror for armored spaceships and hardened orbital installations.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Mecha Gig-Ghedrathrall makes his lair in the hidden caves and abandoned temple
complexes of the far Charbydian Marches. All contract requests should be forwarded to a
nearby Tele-Net buoy that resides at the edge of the sector. A direct priority line connected to
this buoy will be provided by the Burzok Foundation upon request. Payment upon contract
completion should also be delivered to the general location of this buoy, placed and delivered
within three deviations of the buoy’s coordinate location register.
Mecha Gig-Ghedrathrall accepts any physical-form trade currencies, with the fee required
to successfully negotiate a contract being adjusted by the current intergalactic rate of
exchange. It is highly recommended that the most highly polished, reflective, or otherwise
generally shiny examples of the full payment be presented first, as Mecha Gig-Ghedrathrall
derives great satisfaction from pieces of currency with a high aesthetic value. Mecha Gig-
Ghedrathrall claims all non-mission critical salvage rights during operations; this clause is
non-negotiable.
HISTORY ON FILE
In an age before the first of the stellar empires freed themselves from their planet-bound
prisons, the Starbeasts ruled the void. Variform in shape and endless in number, it is still
rumored that the largest of their kind could devour the very stars themselves. In the dense
stellar nurseries of the Charbydian Marches did these true behemoths dwell, and the earliest
space travellers knew well to respect and fear their power and rage. Temples were built, tribute
was offered, peace was maintained, but as time marched on the might of the Starbeasts
waned. Some battled amongst themselves to the death, while others left our galaxy entirely.
The few that remained played kings and queens of the early star empires, ruling ruthlessly
and by their word did millions die. In due time, weaponry and star fleets were developed that
could cast down these Tyrant Beasts, and in the end the once proud titans were only dead and
forgotten relics of a shared galactic prehistory.
Ghedrathrall Pugnetilax sought no such end, desiring only to freely travel the void and
hunt as he pleased. He avoided the games and conspiracies of his larger kin and by this alone
survived the age of myth unscathed. Hunting interstellar shipping lanes and picking off
straggling vessels from wayward invasion fleets, sport, not sustenance was his aim, and the
thrill and challenge of throwing himself against the best creations of these smaller beings
helped him avoid his own loneliness and grief.
Klor Gig was born a poor spacer, falling into the role of crewman aboard a small shipping
vessel while other opportunities remained elusive. The night the Starbeast destroyed his
ship, killing half of the crew and stranding him for half a cycle in deep space, something
broke within his normally timid spirit. Steering his heart towards revenge, when Klor Gig
next set sail it was as a gunner on a Star Core Alliance gunboat. Organizing an absolute
mutiny, as captain of the newly christened Black Roger Klor Gig led his crew up and down
the Charbydian Marches for decacycles. Hunting other fearsome interstellar creatures when
news of the Starbeast proved thin, the Black Roger and her crew earned illustrious fame and
tremendous wealth providing rare and exotic materials to traders in need.
Klor Gig still kept one eye on the beast that claimed his first vessel, and when not making
profit on lesser game the Black Roger pursued Ghedrathrall with a dogged persistence. Over
these decacycles their battles became legendary tales, retold in starports the galaxy over, and
77
no amount of death among the crew or even total hull losses could sway Klor from his course.
Rebuilding the ship each time it took on too much damage, Klor Gig and the Black Roger
would always quickly reappear in the Reach, chasing their eternally elusive prey.
This driven rivalry came to a sudden and dramatic end when a surprise gamma ray burst
from a nearby star caught the Black Roger and her crew unaware. Lost with all hands, salvage
teams were able to recover the remains of most of the crew, but conspicuously nothing was
ever discovered of Captain Klor Gig. For cycles afterwards, Ghedrathrall too remained an
unseen presence in the Charbydian Marches, and it was often speculated that he had also
perished in the sudden gamma ray burst, perhaps locked in combat with the ship when it
went down. Believing it a safe sector once again, having long been cleared of other dangerous
interstellar life by the Black Roger crew, trade vessels began operating again and archaeology
teams started exploring the Reach en masse, seeking forgotten relics and ancient knowledge
hidden in the unexplored ruins and temples.
When the first Imperial escort vessel was torn asunder, it was written off as merely a tragic
malfunction. When a reinforcing Advanced Cruiser was lost the following evening, rumors
began to spread throughout the fleet like a wildfire. When the few survivors of the wreck of
the Capital Dreadnought Brave Robin were rescued and shared their tale of an attack by a
yet-unknown star beast, the panic became absolute. Ghedrathrall Pugnetilax had returned,
clad in battle-grade armor plating, missing a wing and one of his mighty heads, and most
curiously of all: with the floating remains of the lost Captain Klor ensconced in a vessel on
his back. While the mystery of who or what rebuilt and reunited these eternal foes as one
creation remains unsolved to this day, the synthesis-being Gig-Ghedrathall has stalked the
Charbydian Reaches ever since. Through centacycles of battle the Starbeast has sustained
tremendous violence across its entire body, but the damage does not long remain before being
repaired with more strange mechanical contrivances of unknown origin. Heavy weapons
calibrated to tear through generator shields and starship hulls replace lost limbs, and at this
point not much remains of Ghedrathall the Starbeast except his torso. Long-since rotted
away to simply a grinning skull, Klor Gig’s visage has been reported to still move and track
targets mid-battle. In one chilling example, a survivor reported seeing it visibly shake with
laughter as one of Ghedrathall’s heads tore her patrol ship to pieces.
What entity built and operates the buoy floating just outside of Reach space, advertising
Mecha Gig-Ghedrathrall’s services as an engine of destruction for sale to any with wealth to
spare, has long been under investigation by the Star Core Alliance. For now, no solid leads
have been forthcoming. All communication attempts with the Starbeast have been met with
only failure and utter destruction. For much of galactic society, Mecha Gig-Ghedrathrall is a
terrifying and dangerous monstrosity deserving destruction. For clients with enough credits
to afford his work, the combined power of two legendary hunters of the stars might be the
exact solution for problems unsolvable by more
mundane talent.
78
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
SPACE MONSTERS FOREVER Info-net Forum: “whithc space monser is

stongest??” Thread
TeethnClawz: While obviously Mecha Giggy has agility and technology on his side,
Tortentia Gigant is way too tough to go down to some stupid buzzsaws or laser
cutters. Have you seen that footage from her latest sighting? Full regeneration
of severed limbs mid-combat. We’ve never seen regrowth at that kind of speed
before, and you all know how strong she is to boot. One good punch from
Tortentia and the fight is over.
THEBIGONE73: lol i think yall are way too dismissive of star king slithericus here,
this forums really going downhill since the mods changed. used to have weekly
slithericus content and now talking about him is banworthy.
TeethnClawz: Slithericus Is. Not. Real. Show me a single piece of evidence

that is conclusive, verified, and not from a slithericus fan infosite. We have no
passage signs left on asteroids. We don’t have any bite marks left over from
any unrecognized star beast attacks. If you bring up Slithericus one more time
BIGONE, I will have no choice but to report you to the moderators of this forum for
rule breaking.
RobiteOverlord: ASHES would win easily. No contest.
[390,472 replies omitted]
79
THE HONORED: LOIGAN GORE
Venerable Ironside, Old Yellowbones, formerly and

ALIASES rarely The Right Bastard of Martoko
4 x Hand-Mounted High Frequency Laser Dischargers, Pneumatic Pile
WEAPONS Driver, Heinds QFD-06 Magnum with Explosive Rounds
The Training of The Royal Cygnus Guard, The Toppling of Tyrant-

PRIOR CONTRACTS Lord Hyrennus, The Lifting Of The Perseus Moonbase Siege, The
Capture Of Death-Capital Anilam Prime
80
A master of tactics and logistics, an unshakable veteran encased in a powerful mechanical
body with decacycles of experience leading troops to victory.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
When not on contract, Loigan Gore is often resting and undergoing maintenance in an
undisclosed location on Martoko Secundus. Please be aware that priority contracts may be
unable to be undertaken during one of these periods. Messages, correspondence, and requests
to fulfill new contracts may be left for Gore via an Info-Net address provided by the Burzok
Foundation.
All standard interstellar trade currencies are accepted. As Loigan is a kind soul, it is advised
that any potential employer takes certain care that their proposed contract will not require
Loigan Gore to commit any actions that might be interpreted as outright cruelty. While
the Burzok Foundation still appreciates and encourages the custom of intergalactic Tyrant-
Lords, it is recommended that employers seeking an iron fist of enforcement look elsewhere
in the catalog. This recommendation is disregarded at the employer’s own peril, The Burzok
Foundation absolves itself of all responsibility relating to the breach of this clause.
HISTORY ON FILE
A native of the tumultuous Martoko System, Loigan was born into war. Drafted at a young
age into the personal army of a local warlord seeking to expand his territory in a large raid
against a neighboring nation state, the hot-headed youth found the bloody work agreeable
to his violent temperament and very quickly rose from a simple gun-boy all the way to an
officer-lad in the warlord’s service. Training crack shock troopers to break the lines of weaker
nations whose resources were eagerly coveted by his master, Gore found a taste for power
and cruelty perhaps exceeding that of his fellow officers. Woe indeed to any city-state that
refused the customary call for surrender: a more violent end was unlikely to be found in the
sector. Gore’s capacity for bloody-handed work increased until even his erstwhile warlord
found himself in Gore’s sights. Feeling that his warlord was lacking in vision and drawing too
many poor battle plans that proved costly, Loigan Gore engineered a coup that left the former
leader executed and Gore himself placed on the most powerful and established war throne in
the Martokan system. Enjoying his position of absolute power for only a few cycles, a high
powered explosive hidden in his palace by rebel forces marked an end to the life of Loigan
Gore, Tyrant-Lord of Martoko. In an odd twist of fate however, from the ruins and ashes
would emerge a new Loigan Gore, one with a very different path to follow in life.
Pulled from the wreckage by medics from the now victorious rebellion, Gore was a broken
and mutilated mess. Expecting only execution for his endless litany of crimes, Gore was
surprised to discover the medics working night and day to maintain his life. With his severe
burns and many missing organs, and lacking advanced bio-regenerator tech, the field medics
resorted to rigging an extensive life support system that replaced most of his original body.
During one of these invasive implantation surgeries, Gore grabbed an attendant’s hand
and insisted that he was the Bloody Tyrant of Martoko and deserved to die. Shrugging, the
attendant applied anesthesia and put Gore under, leaving him to drift away in befuddlement.
Rehabilitation for Gore took several cycles, a painful and arduous process to re-acclimate
his nervous system to his new, mostly metal, body. Experiencing only patience and
compassion from his attending therapists, and finding support in a group of wounded rebel
veterans that were once his foes, a slow transformation eroded the tyrannical spirit of Loigan
Gore. When he was finally brought before a Revolutionary Council, their ultimatum was
81
simple and direct: serve the people in eternal penance for the crimes commited under his
regime, or perish now. Martoko was tired of war, tired of interstellar powers funding conflict
to use it as a testing bed for their weapons. Martoko was tired of seeing its own blood spilled
freely. A Tyrant Loigan may have been, but he was also a leader, a masterful tactician innately
familiar with the logistics of running a military operation, and that expertise was needed for
the dream of a unified Martoko. Thankful for the mercy shown to him, Loigan gratefully
accepted a role in making that dream a reality.
Through guile, diplomacy, and the subjugation of the remaining Tyrant-Lords, Martoko
was eventually made one sovereign power. His crimes were still too great for him to be
celebrated publicly for his achievements, but Loigan Gore nonetheless felt satisfaction at
ensuring that now on Martoko nobody else would be born into circumstances that reflected
his own upbringing. Choosing to slip away from Martoko and find out for himself what sort
of man he was, Gore was surprised to find that the new government of Martoko wished to
at least offer him one last gift: a final upgrade and tune-up before he left. He was given an
experimental and highly-resilient plastekium shell painted in the livery of the new Martokan
Free Star flag, one that encased a high powered fusion reactor and wrapped around a turbo-
fiber endoskeleton that vastly increased his speed and strength. Loigan Gore still wears this
gift proudly.
Whether charging in with troops, or shrugging off direct fire, Gore can still be a true
terror on the field of battle. He has, however, changed dramatically from his youth. Now
soft spoken to a fault, Gore requires strong amplification to make his own voice heard. He
finds pleasure in tending to gardens in any government complex or imperial palace he is
employed at. He often finds himself a beloved figure to the nobles, local citizenry, and the
troops he lives among, able to converse with the lowest and the highest personages with
ease. Perhaps, however, a small fragment of the old Gore still remains deep inside. While
possessing tremendous patience, it has been reported that Gore’s tolerance is not infinite and
many unsavory characters have found themselves the targets of the full force of an unhinged
and raging Gore. When these flashes of temper subside, Gore is nothing if not profusely
apologetic for his outbursts, but the cruel, despotic, and outright murderous who feel his
unmitigated wrath find that no amount of apology
will return their broken and smashed bodies back
to life.
82
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Transcript of Recovered Audio Recorder, High General Wylfheart’s Command

Bunker, Sector Stygia
Wylfheart: “The rats have escaped your grasp again Mr. Gore! Why have you not
crushed them utterly?”
Gore: “Very, very sorry. Deepest apologies. You see there is a good reason for this,
casualties were-”
Wylfheart: “I do not care for your reasons and excuses, I paid you for results! We
are stretched for time in this campaign and civilian casualties are not-”
Gore: “Are always a concern of tactical mitigation, I will not order early
bombardment until we evacuate the population center.”
Wylfheart: “No longer a concern, I have had your objections overruled. Your
services are no longer required Mr. Gore, we have found more trustworthy
consultation. I believe you can still make yourself scarce before my men do that for
you?”
Gore: “But, but there’s half a million... You can’t do this! Please, I beg you to call
this off, there are contingencies and alternate-”
[sound of footsteps leading towards bunker entrance]
Wylfheart: “I have a schedule to keep Mr. Gore, the bombardment started last
night.
Gore: “This is... this isn’t... this....”
Wylfheart: “This is war Mr. Gore, and unlike you, I am honor-bound to fulfill my
orders.”
[sound of splintering wood, crushed tile, whirring servos, and capacitor charges]
Gore: “YOUR HONOR IS AS EMPTY AS YOUR SOUL. YOUR MONEY MEANS

NOTHING TO ME. I SEEK YOUR BLOOD.”
Wylfheart: [a scream cut short, pained breathing, unintelligible orders, crunching,

pulping, wet noises]
Gore: “DID I TRAIN FOOLS WHO SERVE SUCH FOUL PURPOSE? AT

ATTENTION. STYGIAN GUARD FORM. MY WRATH WILL BE SATED COME END
OF THIS MOON.”
Unknown, Several, In Unison: “Sir! Yes, Sir!”
83
EMISSARY: HANNAH FEIRUZ
Smauwl of The Ten-Thousand Fingered Grasp, The Holder

ALIASES Of The Secret Of Ways
Poorly-understood Extradimensional Energies and
WEAPONS Space-time Warping Abilities
Scuttling of the Atlas Dynamic Private Security Industries 3rd Interstellar
PRIOR CONTRACTS Fleet, The Second Battle Of Grey Ridge Valley, The Disappearance of Calcyon
Incorporated’s Fourth Treasure Star Convoy, The Destruction of Vega Robotics
Headquarters, The Grand Theft of the Hydra Port Intergalactic Bank
85
The avatar of a massive and powerful extra-dimensional entity, able to rip
reality apart to manifest fragments of their true form when needed.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Hannah conducts most of their business from the seat of The High Priest of The High
Temple of Smauwl, located in Sector Aries of the Lilli Borea System. While the Burzok
Foundation maintains an on-site negotiator in the temple priesthood, Hannah wishes to
cordially invite any prospective employer to view the glory of The High Temple in person.
All standard interstellar trade currencies are accepted, the contract fee is tax-deductible
in the Star Core Alliance as a donation to a religious institution of note. Hannah wishes to
emphasize that large contracts involving mass destruction and spectacle are most amenable to
their talents and will be prioritized above others. Employers with excess sentient employees
may also draft a contract to enroll offerings into the High Temple roster in exchange for
Hannah’s services.
HISTORY ON FILE
Hannah Feiruz was born to the High Temple, the progeny of a church-mandated pairing
of two Arbiters, enforcers and executioners of the Priesthood. In that era, the High Temple of
Smauwl was a rather more modest institution, holding only a humble collection of retainer-
land and having little influence over planetary matters, to say nothing of their meager
interstellar reach. Fearing reclassification as a forgotten religion and the accompanying
loss of their small holdings and Star Core Alliance tax-exempt status, the Priesthood of
Smauwl began a desperate project to revitalize belief before it was too late. Taking Hannah
from her parents (perhaps because she was the youngest member of the long-dwindling
congregation), and spending a large portion of their collected alms to hire an off-world
Techno-Surgeonmaster, the Priesthood initiated a procedure to ritually install experimental
psycho-active resonators into her skull, expanding her consciousness and hopefully increasing
the occurrence of direct extra-dimensional contact with Smauwl, the being the Temple
worshipped and whose intrusions into real-space had become increasingly rare over the past
few decacycles. For the reigning High Priest, this mad plan proved a success beyond his
wildest dreams, but not one without a great cost.
As the Techno-Surgeonmaster induced Hannah back to consciousness, an odd knocking
sensation assailed the minds of all present, and soon was made manifest as an intrusive and
malevolent disturbance in reality. With one final otherworldly scream, the walls of reality
in the dark, candle lit temple sub-chamber broke down entirely. A massive tentacle seized
the screaming High Priest and crushed him in its grasp. In a rush to escape the horror, the
Techno-Surgeonmaster grabbed his project notes and fled blindly, falling into a break in
space-time that sealed behind him shortly after. To date, this scientist has yet to reappear,
leaving any opportunity of reproduction of this mysterious procedure lost. Rising above
the dais they had been locked to, Hannah reclined serenely as the extradimensional limbs
of their true form gingerly removed the restraints shackling them to the cold stone table.
Falling to their knees in awe and fear, the attending Temple Surgeons were spared any further
destruction and reality reasserted itself shortly with a rush of wind that snuffed out the
illuminating candles. In the dark Hannah spoke softly, “The work must begin again, we will
suffer little delay.”
With the testimony of the surviving surgeons, Hannah was quickly placed in the now
vacant seat of High Priest. No longer speaking with the voice of a young child, Hannah
85
referred to themselves as a new form of being, neither humaniform nor of singular mind. The
exact relationship between Hannah and what is assumed to be their patron deity is the subject
of fierce debate within the High Temple itself, but it is generally accepted that Hannah is
at least the True Arbiter of Smauwl and communicates as their will in this realm. Under
Hannah’s stewardship the temple expanded rapidly, and became the official state religion
of the local planetary empire- an empire that found itself becoming an interstellar power
shortly after the alliance had been cemented. As the power and prestige of the High Temple
of Smauwl grew, Hannah wasted no time in ordering elaborate works constructed, ordaining
a new cyclopean temple complex to be constructed, a complex now often cited as one of
the masterpieces of interstellar architecture. Worrying to some, at the climax of the project
the temple grounds were re-consecrated with a mysterious midnight ritual that resulted in
the complete disappearance of several local townships. Perhaps in deference to their origin,
Hannah has retained the two arbiters that had once been their parents, keeping them on hand
as the Left and Right Arms of the Seat of The High Priest. The post awards them a noble
position with much prestige and responsibility, along with a sizable portion of estate land in
the temple complex’s production sector.
Despite this great transformation and fantastic achievement, Hannah was disinclined to
suffer their own idleness and began making dramatic public appearances a cornerstone of the
proselytizing strategy for the High Temple. The notoriety and awe gained from such highly
visible manifestations of Smauwl’s Will in a galactic sector so unused to deific power became
an attraction for Hannah, along with the converts and donations such constant publicity
would provide. To Hannah’s delight, every widely-broadcast news segment about the crime
syndicates they slaughtered and the opposing mystery cults they demolished brought a
flood of donations and parishioners to the temple complex. Catching the eye of interstellar
conglomerates, interested in contracting partnerships that could further their own goals,
Hannah began accepting contracts in the Applied Force market. The temple continued to
flourish, experiencing increased notoriety and income with each contract completed. While
the true purpose of the extra-dimensional labors Hannah Feiruz and Smauwl of the Ten-
Thousand Fingered Grasp are working towards
remains a mystery outside of the deepest cloisters
of the inner temple, in the here and the now
their prowess as an agent of action and force of
destruction remains unquestioned.
86
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
High Temple Liturgical Chant In Praise Of Smauwl

High Temple Liturgical Chant In Praise Of Smauwl
To Smauwl who holds the heart, we exult.
To Smauwl who holds the secret, we exult.
To Smauwl whose grasp exceeds all stars, we exult.
To Smauwl to whom no heart may remain closed, we give.
To Smauwl for whom no door remains closed, we give.
To Smauwl whose pain is never ending, we give.
To Smauwl who desires to break the gate, we go.
To Smauwl who slips between the locks, we go.
To Smauwl who stands at empty threshold, we go.
To exult, to give, to go.
We exult, we give, we go.
87
MOONSTALKER: VENGEANCE OF LUNA HATI

Cursed Blade of Avenging Blood, Relic Shield of
WEAPONS Unforgiven Malice
The Assassination of High Trade Priest Orthologol, The Demise of
PRIOR CONTRACTS Spear Champion Helbrinth, The Massacre at Marsh Ridge Creek, The
Assassination of Chef Hector Villenetsi: Food Product Development
Lead for Calcyon Incoporated
88
An unrelenting attacker, when given proper cause and payment will not stop its
pursuit until the target breathes their last.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
Due to the difficulty of arranging contracts with the Vengeance of Luna Hati, the Burzok
Foundation is the solely authorized negotiating firm for this agent. All contracts are
organized through the Burzok Foundation itself, and interested employers should use the
provided contact line to begin negotiations.
The Burzok Foundation accepts all standard interstellar trade currencies in exchange for
preparing a Vengeance of Luna Hati activation. Rates and fees may be modified depending
on the specific situation required, or the identity of the intended target of the activation.
There is a 15% non-refundable activation and consultation fee appended at the end of every
contract. This non-refundable fee is non-negotiable.
HISTORY ON FILE
When Admiral Chip Shaddock of Star Core Alliance Naval Task Force Gamma resigned
himself to a tactical retreat from the Fenris Star System, he decided upon a strategy of total
asset denial. Ordering a complete bombardment of the most productive moon in the system,
Luna Hati was entirely destroyed at his command. Admiral Shaddock did not wait for the
completion of the moon’s evacuation, and as a result of his haste hundreds of thousands of
civilians paid the ultimate price. Leaving the moon a flattened and scorched ball of dust,
Admiral Chip Shaddock successfully completed his tactical retreat, later gaining great victory
and fame when reinforcements arrived and he was able to flip his withdrawal into an absolute
rout of the enemy forces and end the war. Rewarded with great honor, the vaunted Admiral
gave no more thought to the murdered moon of Luna Hati as it floated listlessly through the
void.
1.8 decacycles later, a Star Core Alliance surveyal team made a startling discovery on
Luna Hati’s surface. Standing in an expansive field of white ash was a lone survivor, clad
in strange armor and wielding archaic weaponry. The survivor was unresponsive to direct
communication attempts by the team but made no aggressive motions, standing stock still as
the ash fell around him. When approached the team realized he was consistently repeating
the galactic coordinate loc-register for Star Core Alliance Naval Headquarters. Thinking the
strange being a thoroughly shell-shocked veteran, kept miraculously alive through willpower
but only able to remember the location of his last posting, they had him sedated and
transported to Star Core Central for processing.
Enjoying his new posting at Star Core Alliance Naval Headquarters, Admiral Shaddock
was extremely startled when the transport shuttle smashed through his fourth floor office.
Pulling the unconscious pilot from the wreck before it ignited, through the smoke and flames
Shaddock saw a pale figure at the other end of his office. The figure was clad in rusty armor
and held a broken sword in a limp arm. As Shaddock stared in confusion the stranger strode
with purpose towards him. Fleeing the scene while alerting security, Shaddock was dismayed
when the responding security team’s rifles only momentarily staggered the figure, who pushed
past the horrified guard troops as its flesh resealed over the wounds made by their metal-
jacket slugs.
When Shaddock burst through the double doors of the ongoing naval review press
conference, the attending Tele-Net reporters were highly confused. Screaming for help and
sweating profusely, the once proud admiral tripped over cable cords and fell to the floor.
89
Reporters who rose to the stage to help the fallen hero regain his footing froze in fear as the
figure appeared at the empty threshold. It took each step forward, slowly and deliberately, as
the admiral crawled on hands and knees towards the wall. The creature raised the sword high
and held it there for only a moment- before bringing it crashing down upon Admiral Chip
Shaddock’s head. Although the Star Core Alliance Broadcasting Standards and Practices
Department attempted to halt the transmission, all three minutes and thirty-two seconds of
Admiral Shaddock’s gruesome and terrifying dismemberment were broadcast live throughout
Star Core space. Leaving the scene at a leisurely pace, the figure was hardly hindered by the
thousands of rounds of handheld ballistics, dozens of shots from high-yield laser weaponry,
and even the several volleys of armor piercing explosives loosed upon it. As drone cameras
watched on, the figure calmly strode from Star Core Alliance Naval Headquarters into the
nearby bay, where it dissolved into a puddle of organic matter as the surf washed over it.
Around the same time, on the surface of Luna Hati an odd rumbling shook the usually
tomb-silent surface. An inconspicuous rock formation slid to the side, and an elevator rose
in its place, carrying a single occupant dressed head to foot in a protective hard suit. With a
trowel in hand they gingerly eased a single flower onto the blasted surface and retreated back
into their hidden bunker, mesmerized by the bright blue of the flowers petals against the
ashen white of the surface, until the doors closed and cut off their first view in cycles of what
had once been the surface of their home planet. The project had been a success, now the real
work could begin.
Unbeknownst to Admiral Shaddock or the rest of the Star Core Alliance, while its surface
had been destroyed, life still survived on Luna Hati. A deep research facility untouched by the
bombardment held workers and scientists who had been engrossed with a project involving
genetic research when the bombing began. Fearing for their families and everyone still on
the surface, they pulled what few citizens they could save into their hardened shelter facility
before the atrocity began. Unfortunately, the impact and shockwaves of the bombardment
sealed the entrances, burying them miles underneath the surface with no hope of rescue.
Over many cycles they had used their knowledge, resources, and determination to expand
their subterranean realm and keep at least this small fraction of their society in some level
of comfort and prosperity. In time, however, tempers rose and despair at their predicament
blossomed into full blown hatred for the man responsible for their loss.
Project Moon Flower began as a hypothetical experiment, an exploration of possible
uses of the genetic modification program for the terraformation and recovery of the Luna
Hati surface. The team dug their way to the surface but found the devastation unsuitable
to the current progress of Moon Flower, despair set in again. Setting the recovery aside, a
small team of research scientists steered the project towards an instrument of retribution:
developing and growing a marketable clone-soldier series, one resilient enough to shrug off
incredible amounts of damage and accomplish
its mission before dissolving into a difficult to
trace but easy to disperse organic slurry. With
the resources such a project could generate, Luna
Hati hoped it could revitalize its flagging recovery
project and one day bring what was lost back to
the once-beautiful moon. Settling on a niche as
an assassination application, scientists working
for the newly renamed Project Vengeance decided
a public demonstration of its capabilities would
be the most efficient publicity campaign for their
new venture. While originally nervous at the
prospects of the prototype once free of the facility,
the televised assassination was impactful beyond
90
Luna Hati’s wildest dreams.
Even with the subsequent Star Core Alliance blockade of Luna Hati, wealth flows into the
moon every cycle as they slip their Vengeance of Luna Hati-series Assassination Cloneforms
onto smuggler vessels provided by the Burzok Foundation. With the credits, resources,
and co-operation of more sympathetic individuals and institutions, over many cycles the
Hatarians have slowly brought life back to their barren moon. While some may question the
morality of trading the blood of others for an uncertain future, when the hardened survivors
of Luna Hati gaze upon the growing fields of beautiful blue flowers blowing in the breeze of a
recovering atmosphere, there is no question at all if the price is worth it.
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Project Vengeance Development Group Journal Excerpt

“At first we planned to aim for the state military market: sleek battle armor, full
spectrum communication systems, integrated weapons platforms, the whole
works. We lacked the capacity to produce that many high quality finished goods
with any acceptable speed, however. While testing motivational response time in
the field one day, a happy accident provided a compromise solution. One of the
prototypes stumbled on the surface and fell headfirst through a cavity that had
been covered-over in the ruins. We were horrified and quite sad at the loss of so
much work, but then the damned thing climbed right back out of the hole and
requested more orders. It had this two-meter pipe going straight through its head
and it didn’t react at all. My assistant was disturbed for sure, but it gave me the
idea: if these things are so resilient, why not go for psychological impact for this
first roll-out? Scrap the full suite of armor and weaponry, make them look horrifying
and give them something gnarly to bludgeon the target with. Initial testing gave
us a fear index that was frankly off the charts, especially when they wouldn’t stop
moving no matter what weaponry you threw at them. We called it a done deal and
started proper production. It made sense at the time, but now I have to ask myself:
if this thing works like we want it to, how will history remember us?”
91
INFILTRATOR: IDE-3
EDE-2, IFG-7, TTR-2, EDI-3, EFG-9, DDQ-22, KFV-1,

ALIASES Small Eddie
No fixed weaponry, uses whatever tool is perfect to
WEAPONS maintain diguise while fulfilling a mission
The Theft Of the Calcyon Incorporated Batttlecruiser Plans, The
PRIOR CONTRACTS Blackmailing of Port Sallust Prime’s Docklord, The Mysterious
Demise of Opera-King Manus II, The Leak of The Homam Mining
Conglomerate Dumping Scandal
92
A robotic master of disguise, able to reform itself and mimic many models of
machine to accomplish surveillance, espionage, and assassination work.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
IDE-3 accepts contracts only through a Tele-Net communication line with a 60,000
character-string handshake protocol. A high powered telemetry rig is required to facilitate
communication with this Tele-Net server. If the required hardware is beyond your means,
the Burzok Foundation would be happy to provide our own unit to any prospective employer.
After a lengthy processing period, do not be alarmed if you are only returned the strings
“Yes.” or “No.”, this is standard communication behavior from IDE-3. Further details will be
provided by a Burzok Foundation courier at a later date if the contract has been accepted.
IDE-3 undertakes operations for or only a very modest labor fee, accepting any standard
interstellar currency or modest bulk shipments of certified B-Level or higher robotic salvage.
A non-negotiable discount and priority queuing status may be applied to your request,
provided your contract is organized against any target in a list of corporate entities that
includes but is not limited to: Calcyon Incorporated, Homam Mining Conglomerate, Sadr
Fine Jewelry Exchange Depot Inc., Libertas Shipping Interstellar, Mirzam Heavy Metals,
Sirius Galactic Records, Cursa Industrial Installation LLC. A full list of recognized priority
targets may be requested from the Burzok Foundation at any time.
HISTORY ON FILE
Another of the more mysterious talents represented by Burzok, even the name IDE-3 is
only the latest in a long line of aliases assumed by this small mechanical wonder. While the
exact make or date of its original activation remain unknown, the being known as IDE-3
has been sighted and reported on for at least two decacycles. Constantly repairing itself
with pieces of salvaged robotics, or replacing major segments of itself to fit the task assigned
to it, even this pictorial capture of IDE-3 may be outdated by the time this edition of the
Handbook reaches the printer-segment. A few aspects of IDE-3’s morphology seem to
be constantly present however, corroborated by the oldest visual records of its appearance.
Whether these are simply the parts of itself IDE-3 is most fond of or are the core of the
original machine underneath several layers of disguise, is a hot topic of discussion on the
Info-Net.
IDE-3’s chameleonic talent for disguise is quite plainly not a topic of debate, however.
With a massive library of shells and salvage to pull from, IDE-3 has successfully completed
contracts disguised as mobile translation engines, farm operation constructs, pleasureform
android servants, salvage analysis picker-bots, and in one rather exceptional bit of spycraft:
an immobile kitchen oven for a galaxy liner transport. Acting the part as well as they look
it, IDE is capable of both basic machine code communication to communicate with simple
automatons, and of fooling outside organic observers into believing it has a transcendental
multidimensional artificial intelligence matrix, impressing them with its ability to carry on
philosophical conversation. With these talents IDE has made a career of infiltrating the
heart of some of the most heavily guarded facilities galaxy-wide, then simply waltzing out
unaccosted with industrial and governmental secrets secured. IDE-3 does not limit itself to
only these furtive arts, however, and covert assassination has also formed a large portion of its
workload, especially in recent cycles. A penchant for creating unsolvable locked room murder
mysteries in the course of its work implies a possibly malevolent or immoral intelligence
on the part of IDE-3, but as it remains exceptionally taciturn outside of contract-related
93
conversation this is hard to truly discern.
An even more eccentric and possibly worrying aspect of IDE-3’s unknown capacity for
intelligent thought is the existence of a personal and rather petty grudge list that it maintains
against several persons, companies, governments, and other entities. IDE-3’s history of
prioritizing contracts for these targets above all others (even working pro-bono for employers
in dire straits to hit these targets), has caused some long-time observers of IDE-3 to warn
that these grudges may not be random acts of vengeance or spite, but instead the well-formed
groundwork of some larger plot.
Questions as to the true nature of this plan, or whether the plan is simply the figment of
over-imaginative Info-Net pundits can only remain the realm of raw speculation, as IDE-3
is loath to reveal any information about itself. If the wildest rumors are true and we here in
the galaxy are merely unknowing pawns of IDE-3, a great manipulator from beyond the veil,
what could any of us do to truly stop it? In the here and now however, if you need something
stolen surreptitiously or eliminated without a trace this is one Applied Force Agent to keep
on your shortlist.
94
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Forgotten Personal Break Room Recording, Unknown Corporate Warehouse

Sector
“I’m telling you Boblok, the Heat-Waver is moving around.”
“And all I’m saying is you’re getting tired Jannson, its a long damn shift and you’re
hallucinating now. Still got half of it to go!”
“Yeah yeah, yuck it up. I’m telling you, when I clocked in the Heat-Waver was in
the west corner, and when I came back an hour later it was at the end of the shelf,
and now here we are on break, in the middle of the night, and now it been plugged
into the damn east side socket!”
“Jannson...”
“Yeah, yeah. Long shift moving big boxes in a big warehouse, Jannson’s losing his
grip. All I’m saying here, see, is the only people on the clock tonight are you and
me, and you came in way after me, so either you’re just being a real jerk and mak-
ing me think I’m going crazy, or that damn Heat-Waver is moving around to mess
with me! Is that so crazy? I’m not crazy.”
“You know I love you, Jannson. I get that these shifts have been tough, ever
since we got those government suits coming in and dumping those weird heavy
crates on our laps and telling us to move em around for no dang reason. It’s been
torture on my back, but on the honor of my bloodline I’m telling you Jannson that
Heat-Waver ain’t moving. Don’t have any legs does it?”
“Yeah yeah, you’re right Boblok, you’re always right. Well break’s over anyways, we
better get to moving those boxes again, schedule says it’s about time for it. You
remember the way?”
“I got covered last shift, why don’t you point me to the new spot?”
“Yeah yeah. Gimme a minute to put this away. Oh hey Boblok, you left your...
hand... on the table?”
“COVER BLOWN. PACIFYING BYSTANDER.”
“Who? Who are you? What are you? Stay away! Where’s Boblok?”
[sharp crack of electric discharge followed by a soft thud on a padded floor]
“PROCEEDING TO SEARCH PATTERN, MISSION CONTINUES.”
95
VENOMSMITH: OOL GARDAK
The Kingkiller, The Hand Under Cloak, Dark Asset:

ALIASES Tyrellian Spider
Bespoke viral/genetic agents delivered via custom
WEAPONS injection drones
The Assassinations of High Prelate Mantle Whorlbringer, The Clancy
PRIOR CONTRACTS Communications Head Product Development Officer, The Quorestian Royal
Family, Revolutionary General Barbadin and his remaining loyalist officer staff,
and The Galactic Congressional Planning Committee for The Development of the
Beta Regulum System for the Annual Galactic Athletic Games
96
Master of high-profile assassination and state-level destabilization. A specialist in the elimination of
select individuals through the application of bespoke single-target biological agents.
CONTACT PROCEDURES
The Burzok Foundation is proud to be the exclusive representative of Mr. Gardak in all
client communication and contractual negotiations. Any other entity claiming to act as an
intermediary for Mr. Gardak does so fraudulently. For your own safety and the comfort of
Mr. Gardak, the Burzok Foundation vehemently discourages you from seeking out Mr.
Gardak through other avenues, as any investigation into his whereabouts may be taken as
an untoward threat. During face-to-face Holo-Vid communication, Mr. Gardak may wear a
simple anthropomorphous mask to hide his identifying features. As unsettling as it may be,
the Burzok Foundation assures all employers that this is simply an attempt by Mr. Gardak to
put bilaterally-symmetric clients and negotiators at ease during the discussion.
Due to the nature of his work, contracts are normally negotiated at rates only affordable to
imperial governments, corpo-states, or independent nobility. For the safety of Mr. Gardak,
employers are forbidden from asking for specifics of prior contracts until three centacycles
after the demise of the targets in order to avoid leaks of operational details to any surviving
successors. Payments should be made in stable, widely circulated interstellar currencies.
Extensive pictorial profiles for any potential targets should also be provided alongside this
payment package, along with a comprehensive dossier on the structure of the organization
the targets belong to. Failure to provide this dossier will result in an extensive reconnaissance
fee as Mr. Gardak compiles the dossier himself.
HISTORY ON FILE
Once a promising young geneticist hailing from a relatively placid and remote farming
sector, Ool Gardak excelled at academic pursuits early in life and thrived in the slow-paced
environs of his sleepy, rural institution. Specializing in genetic treatments to ease the burdens
of workers and fight the exotic diseases that developed in this distant colony, Mr. Gardak’s
pleasant way of life was permanently destroyed by a hostile and highly illegal corporate
invasion. The assets for the entire sector were stripped, the academy was shut down, and the
worker population were placed under onerous contracts that resulted in their reclassification
as debt-bonded prisoners, after they failed to live up to new, unrealistically raised standards
for daily production.
Recognizing that Mr. Gardak’s talents could be used for greater profit were he placed in a
different line of work, a corporate strike team relocated him under protest to the corporation’s
biological weaponry research division. Finding the work incredibly horrific compared to his
original vocation, but thinking escape impossible under the watchful eye of corporate security,
Mr. Gardak was all but resigned to his fate when fortune itself provided him the opportunity
he needed to earn his freedom. Coming across a blood sample of the corporation’s Chief
Executive Officer that was sent to the weapons division by mistake, Mr. Gardak secreted it
away to his cramped quarters and wrestled with the ethics of capitalizing on the gift he had
been unknowingly given. Were he to use his background in genetics and his new experience
developing bio-weapons, Mr. Gardak could manipulate the sample into a tool of revenge.
Even through all the beatings corporate security had dealt out to keep him on track, and all
the threatened reprisals lying in wait for the debt-bonded prisoners of his old colony were he
to step out line, Ool Gardak’s spirit remained unbroken.
Stealing equipment from his assigned bio-weapon lab, at night Mr. Gardak gave up sleep
to craft this new gene-tailored weapon, one targeted exclusively at the head of the corporation
97
that brought his misery. During an executive tour of the facility, Mr. Gardak made his move
and released the custom agent into the ventilation system of his own lab. When a routine
board meeting a few microcycles later ended in horror with the once vigorous and ruthless
executive officer rapidly and mysteriously melting into a puddle of his own viscera, Mr.
Gardak felt no small amount of dark satisfaction. Terrified and uncertain of the cause of the
tragedy, the remaining members of the board went into a full panic and had the biological
weaponry research division shuttered. Even with this small peace of mind, the board was
never able to recover their nerves. Morale throughout the corporation quickly collapsed.
Slipping out with the chaos of several incoming hostile takeover bids from other predatory
companies, Mr. Gardak found himself a free being once again. The painful memory of his old
life still tugged at his heart however, and a strong desire to revisit his home overcame him.
Returning to his old colony he found that almost nothing of that old memory remained. All
of the facilities had been torn down and the workers and friends he had grown up with had
been long since relocated, their debts resold among dozens of firms in the collapse of the
corporation, lost throughout the galaxy. Unable to accept this as an end, Mr. Gardak retreated
to parts unknown to plot and brood. Finding that his handiwork with the CEO had left him
with a certain amount of useful notoriety among the darker side of polite galactic society,
eager for similar solutions to their persistent problems, Ool Gardak began selling his services
as an assassin extraordinaire.
Utilizing custom genetic attack vectors delivered by a fleet of highly advanced injection
drones, Mr. Gardak has made a lucrative career as The Kingkiller. He has destabilized
corporations, kingdoms, nations, and entire sectors of space for his clients by the precise and
judicious neutralization of high value targets with his untraceable, genecrafted viral agents.
Over time Mr. Gardak has perfected this art, gaining an incredible eye for the specific strings
of fate that must be cut to gain a desired outcome. With the coin gained however, Ool began
funding a massive investigative effort to find and free as many of his old comrades as he could,
expanding this organization into one dedicated to the release of all corporate debt-bonds
throughout the galaxy. Now a venerable institution of its own, with centacycles of service and
several sister organizations dedicated to post-
emancipation support, thousands upon thousands
thank the Gardak Society for their freedom, not
questioning (or perhaps not caring), where the
funds that make such a mission possible come
from. The dilemma of whether the benefit done by
his charitable organization is outdone by the raw
misery and upheaval his fundraising work brings is
a question left unanswered by Mr. Gardak himself.
For Ool Gardak there is no rest and there is no
peace until every face of every old friend is returned
to their loved ones.
98
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Timeline of Modified Attack Vector Hydra v.43 Tailored To Attack Underworld

Kingpin Vantrechius
T: 00:00 – The first injection by the new prototype of the MK. IV injection system
drone. Drone undetected, target unaware. A painless application.
T: 00:24 – Target exhibiting itchiness near injection site, Vector Hydra has probably
spread throughout the bloodstream at this point
T: 00:45 – The sudden appearance of massive red welts all over target’s carapace
alarms local security, target rushed to private hospital facility as they become
unresponsive.
T: 01:32 – Vantrechius is losing limb function, extremities are withering visibly as

Vector Hydra attacks the primary organic targets, it displays faster response time
than the last prototype on the previous subject.
T: 02:16 – Total limb loss for the subject, break points fracturing at the carapace
under joints. The fluid respiratory system is swelling in the second and third chest
repeater organs, excellent progress for this variant of Vector Hydra.
T: 02:48 – Confirmed expiration of Vantrechius. During invasive thorax surgery

the chest repeater organs finally burst to fatal effect, subject’s organics unable to
deal with the loss of pressure in the circulatory system. All neural activity ceased
moments after. Cause of death listed by on-site staff as Undiagnosed Sudden
Repeater Organ Failure Syndrome. The final, fatal stage attack speed is still
unacceptably slow for the requirements of the upcoming client, must rework this
hydra variant for the next contract.
- OG
99
HAPLESS COMRADES: GUNGO GROUP FORCE FOUR
Strike Force Epsilon (Former), Chip Gungo, Steele

ALIASES Gungo, Colt Gungo, Gary Gungo
Heavy Gungo Launcher, Heavy Heat Halberd, Super Heat
WEAPONS Slicer, Psionic Psystaff of Power, Double Driver Blasters
Operation: Shield Breaker, Operation: Warning
PRIOR CONTRACTS
Arrow, Operation: Lightning Mace, Operation:
Final Hour
100
A pint-sized squad with full-size attitude, these mercenaries boast of tremendous experience
and training, even if may be best to leave only the smallest of your jobs for them.
CONTACT POINT
The Gungo Group Force Four Official Headquarters accepts calls for assistance at any
timeunit on any microcycle! Be patient as our tactical operators require a bit more time to
handle the Tele-Net set with its now too-large buttons and dials.
The Gungo Group Force Four Official Negotiations Office accepts all standard insertellar
trade currencies, but prefers the ones that don’t weigh too much as all of our tactical operators
have a slightly smaller carrying capacity than your typical Applied Force Agent.
HISTORY ON FILE
Once the top assault team of the Star Core Alliance Special Forces, when a freak solar
ray burst struck their Tactical Transport Vessel the unsuspecting members of Strike Force
Epsilon were transformed into tiny creatures from another dimension! Now trapped in their
new bodies and on the run from evil Calcyon Incorporated scientists deviously planning to
dissect them to extract the secrets contained within, the Gungo Group Force Four must band
together harder than they’ve ever banded together before if they want to save the day and
stay the roughest, toughest, meanest special forces team that ever formed a band of brothers!
Gungo Group Force Four Go!
Chip Gungo is the leader of the team! An expert in demolitions and heavy weaponry,
his clear headed and straight-shooting life philosophy has guided the Gungo Group Force
Four to victory against incalculable odds more times than you can calculate. With his Heavy
Gungo Launcher, he can blow away any foe or obstacle that stands between the Gungo
Group Force Four and total victory. Villains beware! When Chip Gungo is at the fore, your
behinds are bound to get sore. Gungo Group Force Four Go!
Steele Gungo is the muscle of the team! The master of hand to hand combat and all martial
melee weapons, Steele Gungo is also the team’s heartthrob and can break a heart just as easily
as he breaks out a can of genuine Federation-Approved ass-kicking! With his trusty Heavy
Heat Halberd and Super Heat Slicer he keeps the foes a-running. The most compelling and
mysterious member of the Gungo Group Force Four, he keeps his cards close to his chest.
Where did he come from and where will he go next? Stay tuned to that Tele-Net set for the
next exciting retelling of the Gungo Group Force Four’s latest adventure, and maybe find out!
Gungo Group Force Four Go!
We’re not really sure what Gary Gungo does, to be honest. He never passed basic, and
pulled strings to get in the strike force in the first place. He does have a dentistry license, and
he claims to have used it, but now that we don’t have teeth anymore maybe we don’t keep him
around? I mean look at him, would you trust your dental hygiene with those hands? When he
gets drunk, he keeps starting a story about that time he had to clear out of port real quick and
he might still be wanted on a few planets, but really doesn’t that just sound like a bunch of hot
air? If you’re trying to scare the team Gary Gungo it’s working, and working too well. They’re
worried for you. With his Psy Staff Of Power Gary Gungo can predict the enemies’ moves
before they even think about them, and keep his team out of danger to boot. Gungo Group
Force Four Go!
Colt Gungo is the pilot of the team! A whiz with a whirlocopter and an ace with any
aerodrone, Colt Gungo makes sure the Gungo Group Force Four gets where it needs to
be and in a right hurry. A real marksman, bad guys keep their heads down when Colt starts
firing off his Double Driver Blasters, and for good reason too! Even when he’s outside of the
101
cockpit, it’s best to keep your gaze skyward, would-be ne’er-do-wells, for Colt Gungo scouts
for the team from the clouds with his Amazing Aero Pack! With Colt raining hell and high
water down on the enemy from above, there’s no way the team can lose! Gungo Group Force
Four Go!
When you’re in trouble they will find you. If you’re planning trouble they’ll find you. You
don’t need to worry anymore, because they will find you. With the Gungo Group Force Four
around the galaxy, our future has never looked brighter! Call your local Burzok Foundation
office now to get your free trial of the Gungo Group Force Four Experience. Gungo Group
Force Four Go!
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Burzok Foundation Security Review of the Gungo Group Force Four,

Excerpt 1
I think somebody’s messing around with our database, check out this currently
displayed review and look at the overwritten original I found under it. -Ed.
Current Revision: When I needed a true action team to take care of Operation:
Lizard Thunder, The Gungo Group Force Four were ready and raring to go.
Rushing into action they quickly secured their LZ and set to work neutralizing
all opposition. Outnumbered and outgunned, with the help of air support they
still emerged triumphant and were able to secure the package and make their
successful exfil. I would definitely request the services of the Gungo Group Force
Four again. I will definitely recommend the services of the Gungo Group Force
Four to all of my friends, and if they then acquired the services of the Gungo
Group Force Four I am sure they would also request the services of the Gungo
Group Force Four again, themselves. Gungo Group Force Four Go!
Original Revision: It took a pretty long time after I called, but sure enough
they showed up in the flesh. Tiny little things riding a remote aerodrone to my
apartment balcony. I let them in, and when I told them about the missing wallet
they jumped around all excited and started doing combat rolls. I thought it was
cute, but after getting a bit bored watching them I decided to head off for a nap
and leave them to it. The leader one, Chup? woke me up and sure enough they
found my wallet under my cryo-food-preserver and handed it off to me. Gave them
the ten cred, they flew off. I Check my kitchen unit and it’s a small mess, cans
knocked over, scorch marks on my mugs. Towels had little holes in them. After
cleaning up, I found they killed a bunch of the slugrats that were down there too,
so I guess those toy guns can do something. Yeah, I’d probably recommend them
if you wanna see something pretty weird and dont mind some minor damages.
102
FRAGMENTARY RECORD
Burzok Foundation Security Review of the Gungo Group Force Four,

Excerpt 2
That thing Ed showed me about the little amphibian guys had me feeling pretty
unsettled, so I did some digging on my own. The Foundation has never had
official contact with anything named the Gungo Group or Gungo Gang, but you
can dig into the back sections of the Handbook every cycle about 20 cycles
running and they’re in there. I talked to some old school editors and they have no
memory of them at all, and when I showed them the profile in the editions they
did themselves they got pretty spooked too. I called a few of their clients and it
seems like nothing too nefarious happened when people hired them, but they do
often report small objects missing when the Gungo’s leave. I ran a linetap on the
Tele-Net address they advertise with and there is a hookup in an unused storage
space of our headquarters that is routing calls. I unplugged it but didn’t want to
stay down there too long, because at this point, I’ll be honest, I was freaking out.
On a hunch I hit up our affiliated archival center and just about dropped dead:
I found the real Gungo Gang. The Gungo Gang was a cheesy child’s animakino
from like three centacycles ago, ancient history. A very fictional animakino at that.
There never was an Alliance Strike Force Epsilon, their official designation ended
at Gamma and they retired the whole Strike Force concept around the time that
show was running. Whoever or whatever is running around now in the shape and
form of old children’s media shouldn’t really be our concern, but we do need to
check in on this obvious security leak we have in our building. Secure all the Info-
Net connections, make sure that line stays unplugged, and quadruple check the
masters on print day. I want to make sure they stay out of this cycle’s edition.
- Barborax
103
ABOUT THE BURZOK
FOUNDATION
Founded in the wake of the collapse of the previous dynasty of the Twelfth Trade House, the
Burzok Foundation was established as the organizational entity for Trade-Baron Zenobia Burzok’s
holdings as she made a bid to occupy the now vacant seat of Trade-Lordship. While other potential
claimants relied upon warfare, assassination, and sabotage to undermine the bids of their rivals,
throwing several sectors of space into turmoil, Zenobia instead focused inwards, improving her
own holdings and solidifying her reputation among the electors of the Trade-Lords. Starting with
a modest and simple collection of several thousand Pressing-Printers across only a few dozen star
systems, Zenobia Burzok was able to utilize a trusted cadre of mercenary companions to protect
her operations from outside interference and in short order the Burzok Foundation had been
cemented as an industry leading publishing house.
Impressing the electors with her acumen and the growth potential of her burgeoning holdings,
Zenobia was awarded the vacant seat on the Trade-Lord Council, officially becoming Zenobia
Burzok, Trade-Lord of the Twelfth House. Disappointed with the unsuccessful machinations
of the rival claimants and the disruption they caused to interstellar business, the Trade-Lord
Council also agreed to strip several of these upstart competitors of their more significant holdings
and award them to Zenobia, giving the Burzok Foundation footholds in several other industries,
a significant expansion that saw the Foundation diversifying into mining, interstellar travel,
and Tri-Vid production. Ever grateful for the assistance her mercenary cadre provided in her
unprecedented achievement, but no longer directly requiring their services, Zenobia Burzok began
production of an advertisement publication to ensure their continued employment for other clients
throughout the stars. The Burzok Foundation Mercenaries Tome, as it came to be titled, was an
instant success for the Foundation, and long held the status as the authoritative directory of the
mercenary field. To be listed in its pages was an honor few would dare refuse.
Despite being one of the more venerable wings of the Foundation, the Publishing Sector found
itself being neglected after the passing of Zenobia Burzok; the Mercenaries Tome was scrapped
from the publications roster due to a lack of interest from the Trade-Lords that succeeded
her. The 11th Trade-Lord, Augustus Burzok vehemently disapproved of this course of action.
Long venerating the founder of his house name, Augustus made it his top priority to bring the
Publishing Sector back the prestige it richly deserved, and especially desired a revival of the
Mercenaries Tome so beloved by his progenitor. Taking advice from his Executive Marketing
Team, the Tome was rebranded, transforming from an expansive and expensive volume produced
only once every few decacycles into a smaller, lighter product that was distributed every cycle and
maintained by a dedicated team able to adapt to a rapidly changing applied force industry. The new
Burzok’s Mercenary Handbook found success almost as quickly as its direct inspiration, and many
executive officers, imperial administrators, and Tyrant-Lords of note keep a copy of the Handbook
close by at all times.
Maintaining its fortunes throughout the centacycles, the Burzok Foundation is now helmed
by Maximillian Burzok, the Twelfth Lord of the Burzok name to occupy the Twelfth Trade
House. Heavily involved in almost every sector of commerce throughout the galaxy, the Burzok
Foundation is an omnipresent institution for many, from the deepest of the core stars to some of
the most distant planets in the outer reaches.
105
SUPPLEMENTARY
GLOSSARY
Applied Force
A field as ancient as time itself, but one now rebranded for a modern galaxy. Applied
Force at its most simple is the trade of goods for the services of an agent with skills and
experience in violent, destructive, and disruptive modes of conduct. Moderated by an
oversight board chaired by the Star Core Alliance, Applied Force Agents are registered
actors and their conduct is tracked and verified, in exchange for them being shielded
from legal consequences for the actions their employers hire them to do. Agents who
violate too many internal codes of conduct however may be expunged from the rolls of
the oversight board and branded as rogue operatives, removing these protections entirely.
Calcyon Incorporatedd
A powerful and far-reaching corporate entity that has long been a competitor of the
Burzok Foundation. Similarly controlled by a longstanding family dynasty, Calcyon
Incorporated is directly involved in every field the Burzok Foundation has applied itself
to, and many more besides. The total scale of Calcyon Incorporated’s various holdings
are unknown to any governmental entity, and dark rumors abound of the research and
experimentation being done at Calcyon Incorporated underground sites.
Cycle
A standard unit of galactic time established by the Star Core Alliance in order to
facilitate accurate record and timekeeping across the vastness of interstellar space. The
cycle is equivalent to about 372 days of the Terran calendar. Decacycles and Centacycles
are simply multiplicative modifications of the base unit, equating to 10 cycles and 100
cycles, respectively. More rarely used are the minicycle, a portion of a cycle equivalent
to about 38 Terran days, and the microcycle which is a small unit that equates to almost
4 Terran days. In general, in most star systems the local inhabitants use their own
astrological bodies and their motions to determine the passage of time from their own
perspective.
Heat-Waver
A cooking appliance of some notoriety used often throughout the galaxy where need
of portability or lack of a reliable power grid precludes the usage of more conventional
implements. The Heat-Waver is nothing more than a miniaturized and self-sustaining
thermal reactor engine packed into a small rectangular case and kept behind a hinged
lid when the powerful blasts of heat it generates are not required. Proper application of
the Heat-Waver’s radiation in order to fully cook food without vaporizing it is a delicate
talent and many hundreds of thousands of injuries have been caused by improper usage
of the appliance. Often also used as a heating element by more adventurous workers in
extreme and rugged cold weather environments.
106
Star Core Alliance
The largest political organization of note still standing in the modern era, the Star Core
Alliance is a mutual alliance of Planet-States in equal partnership dedicated to advancing
common goals of statecraft, commerce, self-defense, and technological advancement.
The Alliance draws its name from the astrography of its first founding, where most
of the constituent members originated from planets close to the galactic core. With a
sizable military and diverse economy, the Star Core Alliance has been able to protect its
power far afield even in the tumultuous modern era, growing at a steady pace as it uses
negotiation and diplomacy to induct more members into its ranks. The Alliance also
maintains the interstellar communications networks used by every entity throughout the
stars, including the Tele-Net and Info-Net. While boasting of many virtues, in recent
cycles the Alliance has taken a more aggressive stance in diplomatic matters, securing
treaties most advantageous to itself at the expense of lesser entities not considered
actively courted prospects for later induction. As a result of this, public perception of the
Alliance outside of its borders is beginning to sour.
Trade-Lords
An ancient order of merchants, industrialists, artisans, and nobility, the Brotherhood
of the Trade-Lords is an eclectic and diverse organization that was founded in the
wake of a devastating interstellar war to organize relief and reconstruction efforts and
minimize the distraction of unnecessary competition between the mercantile classes of a
galaxy in recovery. Now the defining authority of interstellar trade, the modern Trade-
Lord Brotherhood does not lay claim to all commerce throughout the stars, leaving
planet-states and empires to conduct business within their own borders, but instead
uses its proxies, wealth, and influence to monitor and control trade according to its
own esoteric whims and goals. The Brotherhood is a strictly hierarchical organization,
headed by a council of 36 House Lords who control vast economic empires. Each seat
is tied permanently to the family name of the Trade-Lord who controls the house, and
the title is passed to their progeny or chosen successor upon their death. In the event
of a total collapse of a dynasty the remaining House Lords are given elector powers to
choose a replacement Trade-Lord form among the lower tiered ranks of the Brotherhood
organization. As this is a rare event, the opportunity for ultimate advancement inside
the Brotherhood is rather unlikely, and instead members of the lower ranks must often
jockey for the position of simply seeking favor with their chosen Trade-Lord, leading
to an interior culture of intrigue, subterfuge, and conflict. Still disdaining open warfare
when it is not needed, although having the means and resources to conduct it when
required, the Brotherhood of the Trade-Lords favors guile and intelligent deal-making,
open violence merely a disdainful method of last-resort.
107
THE AUTHORS
LOGAN STAHL OLLIE SCHIRMACHER
BURZOK FOUNDATION ILLUSTRATOR BURZOK FOUNDATION ILLUSTRATOR

@LIL_TACHYON @ORDHEIST
Logan Stahl is a travelling artist Ollie Schirmacher is wanted in
whose previous postings include the seventeen galactic sectors for
holy planet Coelum, the desert moon “orangutan crimes” (no elaboration
of Karth, and planet Azag. He is given by authorities). While evading
proud to be a first-time contributor law enforcement, he toils away in
to the illustrious legacy of the a stolen prawnship on multiple art
Burzok Foundation. He lives in the projects that will never see the light
sprawling HyperBurb of Neo Ger.Z. of day.
ALAIN GRUETTER ROBERT WOOD-PETERS
BURZOK FOUNDATION ILLUSTRATOR BURZOK FOUNDATION WRITER

@ALAINGRUETTER @WOODROAN
When not illustrating for the Burzok Sheltering from the acidic rain of
Foundation, Alain spends his small the Bog Moon of Fleur Eta in a hut
stipend studying the various flora constructed of long-forgotten books
and fauna types of his native Swamp and publications, Robert enjoys
Moon of Flo Rita. He has now hiking through the wetlands and
amassed a collection that would make blood marshes of his adopted home
any xenobiologist envious. when the skies clear up and there isn’t
any work to be done.

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This is a work of fiction.

Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places,

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

Edited by Robert Wood-Peters

ABOUT BURZOK 105

- Maximillian Burzok, Trade-Lord of the Twelfth House

ALIASES Old Six Blade

Interview with Midshipman Cabrillo

Officer On Duty: “Company protocol dictates during unplanned boarding all

O: “Incompetence is not an excuse for-”

O: “I’m the one asking questions during this debrief-”

MC: “You weren’t there.”

ALIASES The Pack from Clear River

Info-net Article Excerpt: Neptunian Git-Hounds: Geniuses or Just the

ALIASES Lady Lar, Trade-Baroness Lish

G-Star Private Investigation Organization, Field Notice From Agent Twelve

ALIASES Quo & Quin, The Great Bond Of The Clouds

WEAPONS Supressed OOBLONG GR Long-las Marksman’s Rifle

Condensed Timeline of Mysterious Assassination of Thoth Prime Mayor,

T Minus 0154 – Messenger arrives with news of suspected assassination plot.

T Minus 0025 – Mayor complains of excess heat and boredom.

T Minus 0015 – Mayor continues complaints of excess heat and boredom,

Old Master, The Man From The Bottom Of The Well,

Stellar Field Production Documentary Series: Visions Of Musashi

“Musashi is strongest because he eated metal and metal is strongest of all.”

ALIASES Hunterform Janus

Notes on the Fomorian Trill, Fomor System Royal Bestiary

I cursed inwardly as the crunch of a twig underfoot alerted her to my presence,

ALIASES The Blue Meteor, Unlucky Thrap

While occasionally picking up a pardon or record expulsion through blackmail or services

Chaseman Bounty Hunting Agency, Recovered Fighter Wing Signal

Bloodhound 1: “Wing reform on me, weapons hot, bodies cold.”

Bloodhound 2: “Roger. Lock-on in 5. 4. 3. 2. One. Uh. Lost visual. Lost lock.”

Bloodhound 1: “3 and 4, do you have visual?”

Unknown Bloodhound: “Interference – Field – Lost – Look -”

Bloodhound 2: “Radar below! He got behind us, Lead!”

Bloodhound 1: “ Break! Break! Break! Chaff. How in tarnation does it move so

Bloodhound 2: “LEAD HIT! LEAD HIT! LEAD IS BURNING! TWO TAKING

[end of recorded transmission, transponder repeats.]

Jangmi Solutions Ad-Copy, Portable Plasma Coil Caster Cutter Version 3

Jang-mi Solutions – Real Power makes Real Solutions

ALIASES None Currently Known

WEAPONS Kandmerian Ritual Staff

Excerpt of Reply to Miss Neha-Sketh, Arcturan Astrological Consultations

ALIASES Thransy Goldtooth, Big Runt

Local Holonet Interview Segment: Rumble Racers On The Dirt Drome

Thran: Oh no problem, any time. Have a great one now!

ALIASES Die Stahlfaust, Leslie Woodford

The Death Of Helmut, Scene 47 of The Prince Of Neith

Helmut: [thrusting dagger into stage before him]

I go into green fields, peace is my reward.

ALIASES Arcturus Systems Hazardous Environment Surveyor 2-7

Dr. Northwempton, PROJECT ASHES Lead, Investigation Team Log

ALIASES Rambler Zero

WEAPONS V5-Type Plas-Repeater, Improvised Explosives, Banjo

The Strike of the Calcyon Incorporated Mining Union, The Siege

The Burzok Foundation Record Label: The Songs Of Annachak Volume 26

Jumping Joe Jordan

No Biscuits Until We Reach High Road

The Dying Rebel Under The Green Moon

When I Get My Gun Back There Will Be Hell To Pay

And so much more!