Part 2:
Aleksei entered his cramped office and sat at his desk, lighting a cigarette. Tatyana followed in closely afterward, pausing to survey the room.
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There was one bookshelf against the wall to the left which was sloppily filled with textbooks, encyclopedias, and loose papers. Some had even fallen from the bookshelf and lay on the floor. The only sources of light in the room were a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and a desk lamp. Aleksei’s desk was directly in front of her with a chair on either side. To the right was a large chalkboard that had writings and images all over it. Nothing specific, but what you’d expect to see in a scientist’s office.
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Though, Aleksei was no scientist. He was a former KGB officer who was transferred suddenly to lead the boots on the ground team. Partly because of his piloting experience and his reputation in Moscow. Partly because of his unwavering loyalty to the Soviet Union.
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“What do you think?” Aleksei asked as he flipped through some dossiers while taking a drag from his cigarette.
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“About what Comrade Aksynov?” Tatyana asked, unsure why he was addressing her in English. Perhaps as a test of her fluency?
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“About the team…”
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“Well,” she said, taking a seat, “they aren’t Russian that’s for sure. Surely Moscow could have sent in -” She was abruptly interrupted
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“This is how it has to be done. We couldn’t do this mission without the resources from the West. And in return, we are allowing them to participate.” He took another drag.
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“In that case.” She looked down at the clipboard. She had been taking meticulous notes throughout the briefing. “Georgina Metz. Age 32. Studied Medicine at Harvard University. Smart, confident, calculating. She’s actually really great. Have you read her research paper on - ” Aleksei waved at her to continue.
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She flipped to the next page. “Francois Leblanc. Age 48. Mechanical Engineer. University of Cambridge. Joined the French National Centre for Space Studies 18 years ago. Quite, intuitive, and ready to be led. He loves his country, and will do anything asked of him.”
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She flipped to the last page. “Mark Kirby. Age 33. Mining and Mineral Engineer and US Army Officer. Crass, brutish, and untrusting of the Soviet Union. But damn good at what he does.” Tatyana flipped back to the first page and handed her clipboard over to Aleksei.
​
He thanked her and examined the notes, going back between them and the official dossiers for a few minutes before glancing up at her.
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He then laid the clipboard to the side, checked his watch, and paused for a moment before asking, “Comrade Markov, why are you here?”
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She was taken aback by the question. Was he not impressed with her qualifications? Did he think she was too young...too inexperienced at only 26?
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“A-as you know. I was the one who translated the voices in the audio. Linguists and anthropologists all over the Union couldn’t, but I did. What if you encounter more writing or, or, or, more voices? You need me. Not here, but there. I want to be there. The others have skills, sure, but they don’t understand as I do. I mean, we haven’t even told them what..." She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "I want to do this. For all Mankind.”
​
She fell silent. Looking for Aleksei to react. He shook his head slightly. “No Comrade, why are you here.” He gestured to the chair she was sitting in. “It is a quarter till 6pm. You were supposed to get the team to Warehouse 3C.”
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She put her hand to her mouth. “Вот, дерьмо!”
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Aleksei put out his cigarette with 3 quick jabs into his ashtray before picking up the phone on his desk and dialing. Tatyana stood and quickly left the room.
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His thoughts lingered on what Tatyana had said. “For all mankind,” he said to himself.
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The line connected and he spoke into the phone, “Okay, Comrades. It’s time to get you acquainted with your new toys. Meet me in Warehouse 3C.”
------------------------------------------------
Francois, Georgina, and Kirby traveled down the hallway. They were careful to follow the signs which directed them to Warehouse 3C as this facility was huge and they did not want to spend the next hour getting lost and backtracking.
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“Wish they at least sent someone to escort us….” Francois thought out loud as he walked through hallway after hallway with the others.
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While walking, he began reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had transpired. It was only 16 hours ago that he was sleeping soundly with his wife before being awoken suddenly by a knock on the door of his 2 bedroom apartment.
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The knock had startled his infant daughter, Marie, awake. When she began to cry his wife, Elizabeth, sat up to rock her crib. Frustrated by the situation Francois crossed his apartment and answered the door. On the other side were two men in military uniforms.
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One of the men immediately handed him a piece of paper while the other spoke. “Francois Leblanc?”
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“Uh...yes?” Francois said, looking down at the paper in his hands.
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“You are to come with us. You have been selected to participate in a top-secret mission in collaboration with other countries on behalf of France and the National Centre for Space Studies. Pack a single bag of essentials and meet us outside.” Then, men both turned and quickly walked away.
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Francois was dumbfounded. He looked down at the paper again. It was an official order from the President himself co-signed by the head of the NCSS. There were no additional details.
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Within 5 minutes Francois was packed and saying goodbye to his wife and daughter who were now both crying. “How can they just make you leave your family? Your newborn daughter? How can they just take you away in the middle of the night!” Elizabeth yelled through tears.
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“They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t tremendously important. They probably just need some emergency consulting regarding some sort of new experimental tech they’re working on with NASA or something. Do not worry, my love. I will be back soon. Everything is okay. Je vous aime.” With that, he kissed his wife, said goodbye to his still crying daughter, and exited the apartment.
​
He was driven directly to a small airfield and then ushered aboard a military transport plane along with other similarly dazed personnel and multiple crates of equipment. This must have been more serious than he initially thought. What had he been asked to help with? Was he lying to his wife and himself when he said there was nothing to worry about?
​
Francois leaned back in his chair and buckled in, shaking the thoughts out of his head. There is no point dwelling on that now. Francois was ready to serve his country however he could, but he would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge the knot that began to form in his stomach.
-------------------------------------------------------
“Hellooo...Earth to Francois?” Georgiana said melodically as she gave him a tap on the shoulder.
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“Oh, uh, sorry. What was that?” Francois said, seemingly coming back to the here and now.
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“Do you have anyone back home?”
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“Yes. Yes, a wife and daughter.”
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“I bet they’re very proud of you.” She said, thinking how nice it must be to have someone feel that way about you. She looked over to ask Francois another question, but he seemed to have retreated back into his own thoughts so she decided to leave him be.
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After a few minutes, they turned a corner and arrived in yet another long hallway with brick walls and a dark concrete floor. She knew they were in the right place when she saw Tatyana waving them over to one of the doors about a third of the way down the hallway from where they stood.
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“Привет, сюда!” Tatyana yelled, continuing to wave them over. The group approached her and she led them into the room.
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When Georgina entered the room she was immediately impressed by its size. She expected a stuffy old warehouse with crates and shelves, various mechanical equipment, tools, etc. Yet, what she entered was a large football stadium-sized room with a few tables and crates sitting just by the door they entered in. In the center was a Lunar Lander and next to it was a Moon rover.
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Incredible what the Soviets had done here. They secretly constructed an entire facility in and under the Siberian wilderness and had done so in apparently record time. “Do the Americans have anything like this?” She thought to herself.
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The group stopped at the tables, Tatyana walked to the other side of the tables joining a tall, lanky looking scientist. “Everyone, this is Dr. Maxwell. He led the development team for everything you’ll see here today.”
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Dr. Maxwell reached out and shook their hands. “It is nice to meet you. Let’s get to it.”
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He opened a locker behind him and removed three pistols. To Georgina, they looked like something out of a science fiction novel.
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“The Soviet Union began experimenting with lasers in the fifties and sixties. Its first laser weapons, emerging in the seventies, were fixed ground-based systems. Terra-3 and Omega. Terra-3 encompassed two different devices, installed in Kazakhstan initially conceived in the 1960s to swat down ballistic missiles in the terminal descending phase.
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The concurrently developed Omega lasers were intended to hit aircraft and missiles in the atmosphere. Omega-1 and -2 proved more successful at striking distant targets, but the system still lacked sufficient hitting power and power generation. Designing a laser that could maintain a power-efficient beam over long distances is difficult—so perhaps, I thought, the solution was to get up close.
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In 1984, my team developed a laser pistol, a precursor to what you are seeing here today. It was intended for use by Cosmonauts to damage the optics of Western satellites or blind hostile astronauts, without causing hull damage to a spacecraft. Each pull of the trigger electrically discharges a pyrotechnic flashbulb cartridge stored in an eight-round box magazine.
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However, the laser pistols inflicted very light damage—between one and ten joules of energy, equivalent to an air gun—and had an effective range of only twenty meters. The design did not advance beyond the prototype stage. Or so we reported.
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Here, at this facility, we continued our work and have created what you see before you. A true laser pistol, capable of viable use in combat”
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Yet again, as with the footage from the Moon, the group was left speechless.
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“As you can see, we do great work here,” Tatyana said proudly, standing a little taller.
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“Hell. Yes. This is awesome. I can’t wait to tell the crew back in the States about this.” Kirby grabbed one of the pistols and began aiming with it, pointing it towards a stack of crates behind the tables.
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Georgina inspected one as well. “This is truly remarkable, Doctor. Why are they so large though? Won’t these be difficult to carry and handle?”
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“We constructed this with your EVA suits and the Moon’s lesser gravity in mind. The pistols will rest snuggly in your gloved hands and the weight will not be an issue. The size is because we do not yet have the technology to make it any more compact. But, an additional feature of this device is that since these are not projectile-based weapons, there is no recoil to worry about. Truly the best defense a Cosmonaut could ask for. Well, aside from the suit.” Dr. Maxwell said.
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Georgina stepped back. “Wait...are you all expecting we will need to use these?” She asked Tatyana.
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“Better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it,” Aleksei said as he entered the warehouse. “After all, we wouldn’t want to equip our heroes with anything but the best. That is true Soviet hospitality.”
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“Regardless, these pistols have uses beyond that of a traditional pistol. They can work to cut or heat objects, and can even create small holes through rock and minerals with enough shots.” Dr. Maxwell said, nodding towards Aleksei as he approached.
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“Have we given them a rundown of their transportation?” Aleksei asked.
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“We were just about to, Comrade Aksynov.”
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The group walked together to the center of the room where the two vehicles were located. One was a Lunar Lander and the other a rover, neither unlike that of the ones the Americans used when landing on the Moon. The only immediately identifiable difference was a large metal box affixed to the back of the rover and attached to that a long barrel ran from the back of the vehicle, down the middle, pointing out the front. It looked out of place, even to Georgina.
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“What is that for, Doctor?” She inquired.
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“That, Frau Metz, is for Mr. Kirby. A drill capable of cutting through the toughest material we know of. This is how you will regain access to the artifact’s chamber”
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“Enough about that,” Aleksei interjected. “We will run through various scenarios and training for both of these. We need each of you to be able to confidently operate and troubleshoot them in case something goes wrong.
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“And what about the shuttle itself?” Asked Francois.
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Aleksei shook his head. “I am the pilot, it would take too long to train you all on how to operate it. Besides...this gives us some assurances.”
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“What assurances?” Asked Kirby
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“He means that it ensures his safety. That we protect his life by any means necessary. Because, without him, none of us are going home.” Georgina answered, crossing her arms and looking to Aleksei. She hadn’t decided if she trusted him yet, but she certainly respected him. “What have I got myself into…” she thought.
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Aleksei began taking off his coat. Handing it to Dr. Maxwell. “Alright, it’s time to suit up and begin your training. This mission is on a tight schedule and I will not throw things off track with idle chit-chat. This is too important.”
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“Important for who, Aleksei. You, your scientists, Moscow?”
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Aleksei looked into Georgina’s eyes. Eyes, filled with determination. “This mission is bigger than any of us. It is vitally important that we accomplish what we are setting out to do. Find our lost team and regain access to the artifact.”
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“Not for me, not for us. For all Mankind.”
​
- End of Part 2
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Read Part 1: The Americans Didn't Make It to the Moon First. Their Astronauts Just Lived to Tell the Tale. : cryosleep (reddit.com)

The Last Precursor is an HFY-exclusive web-serial which focuses on the exploits of the last living human amidst a galaxy of unknown aliens. With his species all but extinct and now only known as the ancient Precursors, how will Admiral José Rodriguez survive in this hostile universe? Make sure to read the earlier chapters first if you missed them!
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...
Previous Part
Part 001
.......................................
"Graugh! I bet you have missed the taste of authentic Kraktol cuisine while you've been away!"
Lord Drall sits at a small, rectangular table with his two daughters, Megla and Sapphire, as well as his half-daughter, Soren. Soren and Megla sit on one side, while Drall and Sapphire sit on the other. The small family throws several slimy, eel-like fish into their mouths and swallows them whole, laughing and joking as they devour the food, while a few other groups of Kraktol eat their food with noticeably less gusto, mostly from having eaten the same things for several weeks during their trip to Tarus II.
Megla's tongue slides between the cracks in her teeth, picking up a bit of meat that wedged itself between a pair of molars.
"Kyargh! You might not believe me, father, but the Admiral's ship can create food worth going to war over! Of course, there's something special about home-cooking I can't ever forget!"
While her sister wolfs down the slimy eels, Soren eats much more slowly and deliberately. "We would have eaten in the Bloodbearer's cafeteria, but Kisa's incident made us leave early. I suppose Salted Molwar is a fine alternative."
"You do not sound particularly enthusiastic," Drall says, as he slides another Molwar down his throat. "Graugh! Have you forgotten about your homeworld's delicacies?"
Soren sighs. She folds her claws in her lap, leaving the rest of her plate only half-eaten. "I'm sorry, Lord Drall. I'm simply not that hungry."
"You may call me 'father,'" Drall says. The Kraktol leader pauses his voracious eating to look his half-daughter in the eye. "I know you are an orphan. Still, you grew up in the same nest as Megla. I may not have sired you, but I cannot in good conscience leave you without a family."
Soren lowers her head. "You are too gracious... father."
"Graugh! See? Does that not sound better? Such a pleasant word, it rolls right off the tongue!"
Lord Drall resumes gorging, while Sapphire mimics Soren and pushes her plate away half-eaten. "Half-sister Soren, have you and the Admiral performed the Fatüri?"
"Cough, cough!" Megla gags, nearly choking on her food. "S-Sapphire! Must you speak of such matters at the dinner table?"
Drall chuckles. "Come now, daughter. Sapphire is a blunt and bold girl, like her mother. I find it to be her most endearing quality. You always know where you stand with her."
The blue and green-scaled Kraktol bats her eyes. "Well, Soren? Did you? Or maybe Megla? Perhaps both of you, at the same time?"
"We did not," Soren answers, her expression even. "The Admiral has no reproductive interest in any species beyond his own."
"To lose out on his genes would be a shame," Sapphire mutters, while looking away from the table, toward the galley's entrance. "The Kraktol are not like other sentients. We know that bodily power comes from the strong breeding with the strong. I want my spawn to defeat me in combat, one day. Father keeps introducing me to subpar males, one after the other, but all of them are weaker than me. Unsuitable."
"Your standards are too high!" Drall laughs. "The Börkon's third great-grandson; how did he not satisfy your needs? In appearance, physique, and temperament... he was every bit your match!"
"Being my 'match' is not good enough," Sapphire harrumphs. She tilts her head up proudly, exposing her soft, leathery neck. "My partner must be capable of overpowering me... holding me down, making me roar with frustration. I will not accept a stalemate. If he cannot dominate me, our spawn will be weaker than the sum of our parts."
Megla resumes eating, somewhat slower than before. "Kyargh! You are right, yes. A mighty partner will lead to mightier hatchlings. But there are only so many top-tier partners available, while Kraktol males tend to be weaker than us females. I think you may end up dying alone."
"Not if I perform the Fatüri with your Admiral," Sapphire answers, her tone firm. "That is why I asked if you hadn't done so already. If you haven't, then his seed will fertilize my eggs flawlessly. I cannot let this chance slip through my claws! Admiral Rodriguez took down Orgon the Betrayer, one of our best warriors; our strongest males. If my beloved José does not meet my qualifications, nobody will!"
Soren crosses her arms. "Your attempts will bear no fruit, half-sister. The Admiral... he will never accept your advances."
"How do you know?" Sapphire counters. "Have you tried pursuing him?"
"...I haven't." Soren answers.
"Well, there, see?" Sapphire laughs. "You won't know unless you try. The Admiral is broken and alone. His species is dead, and he has nowhere to call home. He requires a companion. Naturally, with some convincing, I will fill that role, while he will fill my-"
"Please, not another word," Megla says, gagging once again. "You're making it impossible for me to enjoy this delicious Molwar! Speaking of which... are you going to finish yours?"
Soren and Sapphire both push their plates toward Megla in unison. "Have at it."
"Kyargh! It's my lucky day!" Megla laughs.
...
Half an hour passes. The four Kraktol continue chatting about a great many things, mostly banal observations, musings on life and the galaxy, and occasionally some juicy gossip.
"Sister, have you met Kilgore?" Sapphire asks Megla. "He is our one-seventh Algaru-brother."
"Kilgore?" Megla asks, after burping from the multiple plates of food she's finished. "I don't know him."
"He is one of Father's favorite children," Sapphire explains, a pouty expression playing upon her face. "Even more so than me."
Drall bares a toothy grin. "Ah, finally, a discussion not involving female pursuits. Aye, Kilgore joined us on our journey. I worried your Admiral might blow our ship out of the air, and thus, bring about the death of one of the remnant Algaru... but luckily, cooler heads prevailed."
Soren cocks her head. "Speaking of which, what happened to the Algaru? I know the Mallali exterminated them during the Retribution War, but I don't know how. Could you elaborate?"
"I'd like to know, too," Megla chimes in. "I've heard rumors; we all have. But you fought on the frontlines during that era. Surely, you must know more than the asteroid miner-slaves."
Lord Drall continues to smile, but only for a moment. His expression dims noticeably, and eventually, the smile disappears.
"Brutal days, those were."
Drall lowers his head.
"The Algaru. They were our cousins. An adjacent species of sorts. We bred with them on occasion, and they, with us. We suffered in slave mines, the same as them. Though smaller than the Kraktol, the Algaru were fierce and brave. Self-sacrificing. Better than us, in many ways."
After pausing for a moment, Drall slowly reaches toward the sleeve on his right arm. He pulls it back, revealing the brand-mark of a Kraktol symbol, one symbolizing a star and moon.
"My blood-brother, Hataru. He was an Algaru. I saved him from a Kessu slavemaster's wrath, killed our master, and hid the body. He swore a blood-debt to me for saving his life. He paid it back ten times over, rescuing me from too many life-and-death situations for me to count. Even so, he always told me it wasn't enough. We branded ourselves with this mark, swearing to protect one another's families until we died."
The table's mood turns somber as Drall's daughters listen to his war-story. Sapphire, seated beside her father, reaches over and gently touches the brand.
"What does it mean?" Sapphire asks.
"The star represents the burning fury of the Algaru; their fiery hearts," Drall explains. "The moon represents the calm and placid nature of the Kraktol. Though we were not as fiery as the Algaru, that did not mean we were not cold-blooded killers capable of terrifying deeds. I performed many heinous, unforgivable acts during that era, yet Hataru never judged me. He knew what our victory or defeat meant."
Drall sighs. "The reason our cousins perished... it was a deliberate act of self-conflagration. Their reproductive speed was slower than ours. They struggled to repopulate, and thus, began to dwindle in number, while the Kraktol soared."
"That is why," Drall continues, "In a final brave, but suicidal act, the Algaru navy worked together to turn all of their ships into battering rams. They flew into one of the Mallali core worlds at sublight speeds, killing billions of our accursed enemies. It was the ultimate act of defiance. It signified their resolve; their commitment to never again walk as slaves. They would rather perish in a final blaze of glory than give up and surrender to their enemies."
Megla's eyes turn misty. She wipes away her tears and sniffles. "That... that must have been a hard day for you, father."
"It was," Drall acknowledges. "I lost my blood-brother; my best friend. In truth, the only person I've ever loved more than the Thülvik herself. Every night, before I lay my head down to rest, I turn toward the nearest star and pray for Hataru's soul. I pray that he found his way to the Primordial Swamp."
"He did," Megla says, nodding. "Definitely."
"Mmm."
Drall falls silent.
Half a minute passes before he speaks again.
"Not all of the Algaru perished in that rain of fire. The adults left their spawn to us, their cousins. We raised those who remained as best as we could. But with only a few hundred left, their blood thinned over the generations. The purebloods died out, leaving halfbreeds, quarterbloods, and now, the distant descendants of our great cousins."
Drall spreads out his claws helplessly. "I did what I could, but my best wasn't good enough. Every day, I struggle, knowing I let Hataru down. I couldn't maintain his family line. All of his descendants have watered-down their blood. They have interbred with the Kraktol so many times that barely anything remains of their proud genes. What a humiliating end for such a brave... a brave..."
The Kraktol commander balls his claws together and strikes the table.
Bang.
"Some glorious leader I am."
Sapphire rests her hand on Drall's arm.
"Do not worry, father. Someday, we will punish the Mallali. We will repay them a hundredfold for the evils they've committed. The Kraktol Empire will unite the Rodaks, overturn the Mallali's rule, and reign supreme."
Megla and Soren glance at one another for a moment, then lower their heads.
"Father..." Soren mutters. "Regarding the Admiral."
Drall raises his head.
"Yes?"
"I cannot betray him," Soren says, looking Drall in the eye. "The Admiral is precious to me. I value him in a way I haven't anyone else before, not even Megla. I can't explain my feelings. You may see him as a tool; a weapon to empower the Kraktol Empire, but if you treat him as such, you will walk away disappointed. He is powerful, yet fragile. Unyielding, yet flexible. Cold and calculating, yet compassionate."
"Yes," Megla says, agreeing with Soren. "Our Admiral is not a weapon with which you may club the Mallali to death. Once you get to know him, I think you'll understand why we've chosen to follow him to the ends of the galaxy."
Drall gazes at his daughters stonily. "I have a war to win. Your friend, the Terran, might be the key to finally burying the Mallali once and for all. I will do anything to acquire his trust."
"And that is fine by me," Soren says, "so long as that is all you pursue. If you become his friend and he chooses to help you, I won't interfere. If, however, you steal from him, hurt him, or backstab him, I will become the Kraktol Empire's greatest enemy."
Megla glances at Soren for a split-second before nodding along to her words. "And the same is true for me."
"Haha..." Drall chuckles. "To inspire such confidence in his subordinates, I've no doubt the Terran is an ally worth cherishing. I've known countless charismatic Rodaks, many of whom I considered great leaders. None of their followers displayed half your zeal. I look forward to finding out what methods the Terran will use to turn me into one of his fanatic supporters."
A quiet moment fills the air. Megla and Soren exchange a long, meaningful stare with their father, Lord Drall.
Sapphire breaks the silence which a bemused snort. "Pfft! I guess the Admiral really did perform the Fatüri with both of you!"
"Kyargh!" Megla laughs. "Your mind is a slimy sewer, sister!"
Drall slaps Sapphire's back. "Just like your mother's."
.......................................
Three hours after the Admiral first entered Kisa's room, he finally emerges. Kisa follows behind him as he steps into the corridor, her head lowered shyly.
"There's no need to fear your father or your mother as long as I'm around," José says, after not seeing the other four Kraktol aren't in the crew quarters section anymore. "Just stay close to me."
"Y-yes..." Kisa replies, her scales flushing with color. "Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir, can't I stay here on the Bloodbearer with you, Megla, and Soren?"
"I'm fine with that," José answers. He starts walking down the narrow corridor with Kisa behind him. "But you are the Malvik, which seems to me like a position on par with a Kraktol princess; the next heir to the throne. If your father doesn't give his consent, I won't allow you to stay. You have duties to fulfill for your empire."
"B-but, you didn't need his permission for Megla and Soren to stay!" Kisa protests.
"Yes, but they aren't the Malvik," José chuckles. "Different story, different circumstances."
"...Oh."
José finds Soren's location via a ping from Umi. He navigates the Red-Tongue's inner hallways like a pro, bypassing several Kraktol along the way. Each crew-member quickly retreats and clears a path for the Terran, saluting respectfully by putting their fists over their chests. He replies with a quick nod to each one, noticing how few of them pay even the slightest attention to Kisa.
"You're not very popular around here..." José mutters, after passing the eighth crew-member. "That must be hard on you."
Kisa sighs. "Not really. I'm used to it."
After a few minutes, the two of them arrive at the galley, where they find Megla and Drall both lazily leaning back in their seats, having stuffed their faces full, while Soren and Sapphire sit upright with more dignified postures.
As if possessing a third sense attuned to the Admiral's presence, Sapphire instantly swivels her head forty-five degrees to her right, toward the galley's entry door. She spots José the moment he rounds the corner and jumps to her feet. "José! Oh, darling, you have returned! Are you hungry?"
José stifles his urge to facepalm at her coy familiarity. "Ahem. No, thank you. I already had a bite to eat with Kisa."
He steps into the cafeteria, allowing Kisa to make her presence known, behind him. When she rounds the corner, Sapphire's excited expression deflates visibly. The blue-and-green-scaled Kraktol slithers over to José's side and wraps herself around the Admiral's left arm.
"Oh, Kisa. I see that my darling José finally talked you out of your stupor."
Kisa meekly lowers her head. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to be a burden to anyone."
Drall rises from his chair, followed immediately afterward by Soren and Megla. "Graugh! All that matters is that you have finally come to your senses, my child. In any case... Admiral! Now that you've settled the matter with my daughter, I hope you'll explain to me what you intend to do next. My crew are all at your disposal!"
Soren walks over to José's side with a neutral expression. Megla follows her, but shoots a dirty look at Sapphire's clingy posture, who merely bats her eyes in return.
Unfazed by the seductress pressing herself against his arm, José ignores Sapphire's advances. "Lord Drall. We will not be able to attack the Demon Emperor on Tarus II today, tomorrow, or even for the next month. I recommend that first, you send a transmission back to your Thülvik telling her what you plan to do. After that, I'd like you to assemble all of your officers and take them to the Bloodbearer's holodeck. I'll run a performance evaluation on each one to assess their strengths and weaknesses, then decide on roles for them in the upcoming mission."
Drall nods. "Graugh! This Demon Emperor, Yama, what if he catches wind of our plans? Is he able to flee the planet?"
"Probably not," José replies. "Demons were, for the most part, incapable of using technology. They possessed no spaceships, and always had to rely on non-demons to travel between worlds. Of course, with the Buzor on Tarus II, anything is possible. The Kessu still had a 14th Era stealth craft within their grasp, so it's possible there may be other spacecraft we can't detect lurking within Yama's grasp. Either way, don't worry that taking too much time will allow Yama to flee. Now that I know a Demon Emperor exists, there's no place in the universe he'll be able to hide from me. I'll hunt him until the day I die, if that's what it takes."
Sapphire squeezes José's arm. "Kyargh! José, I look forward to fighting the demon right by your side! We will make a most excellent team!"
The Admiral smiles. He stares at Sapphire for a few seconds, then clears his throat. "Excuse me."
After a slightly awkward pause, Sapphire reluctantly releases his arm and pulls away, still maintaining a pleasant expression all the while. "You're so bashful, darling!"
José cracks his neck. "I wouldn't describe myself in such a way, Miss Sapphire. Soren, Megla, I want you two to stay here. After your father rounds up all of his officers, please guide them to the holodeck, then ping me. I'll join up with you later."
Soren cocks her head. "Admiral? Where are you going?"
"I didn't expect to have a thousand soldiers available for taking down Yama," José explains. "It changes my first strike capabilities significantly. I'm going to strategize with Umi, then meet up with you once I've decided on a plan of action."
"I see. That makes sense," Soren replies. "Megla and I will do as you command."
"Mmm. Good, I'll see you all in a couple of hours, then."
José turns to leave the room, only to nearly bump into Kisa, behind him. He pauses, realizing he almost forgot she existed.
Kisa practically becomes invisible once others start talking, the Admiral thinks.
After a momentary pause, he squeezes Kisa's shoulder. "You didn't get a proper tour around the Bloodbearer earlier. Why don't you come with me, and I'll show you my ship?"
Kisa nods quickly, but keeps her head bowed. "Y-yes, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir..."
He and Kisa exit the room, leaving the other four behind. After a few seconds, Sapphire gasps with realization.
"Kyargh! I was too slow!"
"Too slow?" Megla asks, baffled. "What do you mean?"
Sapphire slaps the top of her head, then beats her chest in grief. "That Kisa! She stole my darling from me! She was all alone with him in that cramped, narrow room of ours! I bet she melted into his arms while they performed the Fatüri, and then he took her as his mate! Drat! If only I had been a little bit quicker!"
Soren, Megla, and Lord Drall all simultaneously roll their eyes.
"Yes, sister..." Megla groans. "I'm sure that's exactly what happened."
.......................................
Kisa shyly follows behind José as he departs the Red-Tongue. They pass several other Kraktol along the way, but few of them pay Kisa any mind. All of their staring and adoration goes directly to José, the slayer of Orgon the Betrayer. Given his reputation as one of the mightiest Kraktol, Orgon's reputation, and therefore his loss at José's hands, gives José a proportional boost to his infamy among the Kraktol.
Once Kisa and the Terran exit the ship, they pause at the bottom of the ramp, while José glances around, reading several holographic imprints that appear inside his retinal scanners.
"Umi, show me a list of the Bloodbearer's weapon reserves. Sort them in order of likely lethality against the Buzor we encountered, as well as any monsters or demons we confirmed were living alongside Yama."
"Orders received, Admiral," Umi beeps from overhead. She transmits a series of images to his brain, making them pop up inside his retinal scanners. "Assuming a battalion count of nine hundred and fifty soldiers, these weapons are the most likely to deal extreme damage to the enemy types we observed. Please note that the Bloodbearer only has ten Titan battlesuits in its storage, and three of them are inoperable. You will need to personally assist the Kessu in their repairs, given the intricacies involved in their logistical operations. Alternatively, Crew-members Lele or Soren Mudrose would be capable of completing the repairs unassisted."
José blinks in surprise. "Lele? The kitten?"
"Affirmative. Crew-member Lele has the second highest intelligence rating among all of the Kessu and Kraktol onboard, excluding the newcomers from Lord Drall Brighteye's vessel. Her analytical and repairing capabilities are extraordinary, especially given her biological age."
"Alright. I'll take her down there and explain what she needs to do," José replies.
The Admiral turns to Kisa. "Uh... is there anything you're good at or passionate about? Any skills or hobbies?"
Kisa's scales flush with color. "I, um... I received the best education on Dragua, since I will someday take over as the Thülvik. I suppose I'm good with a lot of things, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir."
"You can just call me 'Admiral,'" José says. "Alright. I'll take you to the medbay and perform an evaluation. Hm. I should probably do that for all of Drall's crew."
While the Admiral ponders over his next move, Umi beeps again. "Admiral Rodriguez. I have received a Priority Green message from the Slipstream. Synthmind 4131 wishes to speak to you. Will you accept?"
José shrugs. "Yeah, sure?"
Having all but forgotten about the Slipstream and other such tangential things after his rebirth, José doesn't give much thought to the synthmind's request. He only finds it odd a random synthmind would attempt to contact him.
A male synthmind voice speaks from Umi's speaker system above. "Greetings, Admiral Rodriguez. I wish to inform you that as of [ONE] hour and [SEVENTEEN] minutes ago, I successfully finished assimilating [THREE HUNDRED] petabytes of scientific data. I scanned every ship in the Bloodbearer's hangar and proceeded to spend the last [SIX] months, [SEVENTEEN] days, [FOURTEEN] hours, and [SEVEN] minutes adapting their configurations to my learning network. As such, I have obtained [SEVEN] advanced transformations, [FORTY-ONE] intermediate transformations, and [ONE HUNDRED, SIXTY-THREE] low-level transformations. With assistance from Synthmind Umi's superior processing matrices, I have successfully upgraded my internal and external components to the [FIFTIETH] era."
José stares blankly ahead for several seconds.
"Upgraded... transformations... wait, are you- is your vessel a self-learning-type exocraft?"
"Affirmative, Admiral Rodriguez," Synthmind 4131 beeps in acknowledgement. "I am capable of adapting other vessel designs to my hull and upgrading my capabilities over time. Were I to study [FIFTIETH] Era technology on my own, I would have required several millennia to properly adapt them to my Biosteel Plating. However, Synthmind Umi was invaluable in providing me design mechanics to study and mold to my neural pathways. I believe you will find that my capabilities as a warship, a science vessel, and a mining exocraft vastly supersede any others currently inside the Bloodbearer's hangar bay."
"By the Divine Emperor..." José mutters, while stroking his chin. "That does, indeed, greatly interest me. Come along, Kisa. Let's go take a look at the Slipstream and see what it can do."
The Malvik nods. "Kyargh! Y-yes, Great Precursor, Admiral Rodriguez, sir!"
"It's just 'Admiral Rodriguez,' Kisa."
"...Yes."
The Admiral chuckles inwardly at Kisa's shy nature, then begins walking toward the Slipstream, a look of excitement on his face.
"An adaptive bioship. I don't recall hearing about more than five made in the whole galaxy. This is a development that could seal Yama's death."
Next Part
.......................................
Author Note:
If you liked what you just read, please consider subbing to my Patreon! I post patron-exclusive writing posts, with typically one post dedicated to TLP each month, and another to Cryopod. You help me survive long enough to not starve to death, and I give you fun things to read. It's a win-win! Check out some of those posts here and here!
Also consider reading The Cryopod to Hell, the primary story in the Cryoverse! Both TLP and TCTH are part of the Cryoverse, so they're deeply interlinked. You don't wanna miss either of them!
Thank you!

The bad calls made all the difference. When teams get bad calls. They lose momentum and morale. And when you lose momentum and morale it is hard to win. Most of football is mental. And when the refs working against you gain a sense of hopelessness because even if you try hard it won't matter. Because when the games on the line the calls will always go in the favor of Brady, we know this, we have seen it happen for years, and multiple games this season. This is not a new thing. I don't think the refs should even be in the discussion of favoring any team over another. Saying it didn't make a difference because it wasn't close enough is the exact thing cheaters would want you to believe. They said the exact same thing about spy gate, where knowing your opponents plays gives a huge advantage. The patriots went from the worst team in the league to winning multiple Super Bowls with spy gates. Because of this Brady gained stronger rosters for gaining the reputation of winning when he cheated in the first place to gain that reputation. He went undefeated a season because every team in the league had to switch up their play books and calls after learning they had been stolen. He lost to in the Super Bowl to a physically superior d line and a hurry up offense that moved to fast for them to call plays to counter them as they could still remember the calls. The reality is that knowing what your opponent is going to do in any competition is an unfair advantage. In a pro poker match the guy who knows the cards everyone holds and the order of every card in the deck is much more likely to win, I am not saying it is guaranteed, its not 100%, but the odds are in his favor. What the patriots did is worse than the equivalent to peaking at someones screen in a video game, or someone cards in the had of a Yu-Gi-Oh game, because it was a calculated and coordinated effort involving many people instead of just one individual cheater. Turns out they've been using deflated footballs. Again this gives an advantage, they are easier to catch, less likely to fumble, and you can run faster with deflated balls. It is easier to catch a deflated football than a highly inflated one, as it won't bounce of your hands as much. You can also do faster snaps while reducing the likelihood you fumble thus speeding up the whole offense. Still people said it didn't matter, as the seahawks should of ran the ball. But they shouldn't have been there in the first place, they used it to blow out the colts, and the colts had a different run defense than the patriots, which means if the Seahawks were in the same position against, they might have ran the ball. Unless Marshawn Lynch walked into the end zone without a holding call, if it came down to inches, it would go in the favor of Brady, because refs. In this case you have to work out the fact the refs will always favor Brady when the game is on the line and even when it isn't. And thus, it is better the throw the ball to ensure he is clearly in the end zone. Had it been the Brady who threw that ball, the DB who picked it off would have been called for a pass interference for bumping the guy out of the way before he even touched to ball. Now they also won a Super Bowl with a roided up wide out, they tested Eric Ried how many times? And how many times did they test Edelmen? Hence the double standard for roid testing when involving a guy playing with Brady. In addition in the Falcons game there was a clear face mask call that should of canceled out the holding call. If it was Brady in the position of Matt Ryan. The face mask would have been called and the holding would not have been called. A player on the Bucs held a linemen in the exact same fashion as the Falcon linemen and didn't get called against the Packers. And then there was the time when Gronk lay hit a guy, clear unnecessary roughness. In the Super Bowl against the Eagles. People said it didn't matter because Brady dropped the ball to a pass that was a clear touchdown. I am sure Eagles fans would have cared about that call more if they had lost. The refs need to make fair calls at all times. And they are clearly not doing this when it comes to Brady. The way they Refs get you is they make you think that it doesn't make a difference when it does. The Refs unfair calls should not tip the odds in favor of any team at any point of the game. Why? Because bad calls can decide possession. And possession decides who controls the game. If you get more possessions in the first half you can tire the opposing defense for the second half. You can also keep a high powered offense from picking up steam. You can also tire an offensive line, by having them drive all the way down, and then making a bad call. Penalties also decide field position. Field position decides who wins. Also the coin toss matters. The Chiefs elected to defer. The team in the half that receives first gains more possessions and more chances to score. If the team that defers is in within one possession, they have better odds at winning. If they are in the lead, they have even greater odds at winning. But if they need a couple of possessions to win, as was the case for the Chiefs because of the Refs. Then your odds are obviously less. The Refs made deciding call for possession and field position. Allowing the Bucs to gain a multi possession lead thus greatly titling the odds in favor of their favorite guy, Brady. I know you guys want to convince yourselves that the calls didn't matter. People will call you losers for seeing it any other way. But admitting that there were bad calls and then saying they didn't matter is a state of cognitive dissonance. Your very beliefs contradict each other. The calls were bad and they did matter. Some people are making an argument comparing the rigging of the NFL to the elections. These are totally different. Elections are a highly legally regulated environment. Any cases go before a fair judge, both sides can present their case, but it is down to the interpretation of the law. A player cannot litigate a play call, he can't take it to court, the most he can do is take a complaint to arbitration which is run by the NFL, even still he can't undo the call in the moment. If he tries to protest it he can get another call, a fine, or even ejected. In addition there was no evidence of election fraud. Yet we have literal video evidence of unfair calls clearly favoring Brady on repeated occasions. What is the motive? Why would the NFL do this? They want to call Brady the goat, they wanted the Super Bowl in Tampa. They want to compare him to Jordan, but they want to leave Bill Russell out of the discussion because that kills the debate. They want to undo the stain of the spy gates wins so people can say "Hey, he can win without spy gate, so it didn't matter." Well the league doesn't revolve around Brady. There are plenty of other fans who would love to see the team their rooting for win, and the player their a fan of win. And it is not fair to rig it in favor of a single team, let alone a single player. Now cheating in the way Brady does it doesn't guarantee wins, but it does increase the odds. I feel as if to make a fair analogy of comparing the rigging of the NFL to unproven claims of election fraud. The refs should release their tax returns to see if they are taking any bribes or placing any sports bets, similar to how a president might release his tax returns. I don't want to make this politcal I just want to remove the parody argument of comparing Brady's cheating and illegitimate wins, to legitimate presidential wins that were upheld by the courts, congress, our electoral college, and votes of the American people. If someone bribes a judge or jury or officer that is a crime. If it was found that a person had a large stake in a company being sued he wouldn't make a fair jury, thus a ref shouldn't have a stake for a certain team or player to win. And they must prove this by publicly release their tax returns. And if they falsify their returns they should be charged with tax fraud. Every ref in the NFL should release all their tax returns publicly. And the returns should go back to the beginning of Brady's career. This way we can prove once and for all that the refs were not rigging games in favor of Brady. And the jokes about the refs working for Brady will just be funny jokes. And we can take our loss in peace, or we can storm the NFL HQ demanding them to give the Chiefs the Super Bowl win.
​
TLDR: The refs calls titled the odds in favor of the Bucs, they should release their tax returns dating back to when Brady joined the league to prove they do not have financial conflicts of interests.

Today i have a confession to make: i'm a little bit of a minmaxer. And honestly, i think that's a pretty desirable trait in a DM. The minmaxer knows the rules, and exploits them to maximum efficiency.
"But wait, what does that have to do with spell use in society?" - someone, probably.
Well, the thing is that humans are absolutely all about minmaxing. There's a rule in the universe that reads "gas expands when hot", and suddenly we have steam engines (or something like that, i'm a political scientist not an engineer). A rule says 1+1 = 2, and suddenly we have calculus, computers and all kinds of digital stuff that runs on math. Sound is energy? Let's convert that shit into electricity, run it through a wire and turn it back into sound on the other side.
Bruh. Science is just minmaxing the laws of nature. Humanity in real life is just a big bunch of munchkins, and it should be no different in your setting.
And that is why minmaxing magic usage is something societies as a whole would do, specially with some notable spells. Today i will go in depth on how and why each of these notable mentions has a huge impact on a fantasy society.
We'll go from lowest level to highest, keeping in mind that the lower level a spell the more common it should be to find someone who has it, so often a level 2-3 spell will have more impact than a level 9 spell.
​
Mending (cantrip).
Repair anything in one minute. Your axe lost its edge? Tore your shirt? Just have someone Mend it.
Someone out there is crying "but wait! Not every village has a wizard!" and while that is true, keep in mind any High Elf knows a cantrip, as can any Variant Human.
A single "mender" could replace a lot of the work a smith, woodworker or seamstress does, freeing their time to only work on making new things rather than repair old ones.
​
Prestidigitation (cantrip).
Clean anything in six seconds. Committed axe murders until the axe got blunt, and now there's blood everywhere? Dog shit on your pillow out of spite? Someone walked all over the living room with muddy boots? Just Prestidigitate it away.
This may look like a small thing, but its actually huge when you apply it to laundry. Before washing machines were a thing housewives had to spend several hours a week washing them manually, and with Prestidigitation you can just hire someone to get it done in a few minutes.
A single "magic cleaner" can attend to several dozen homes, if not hundreds, thus freeing several hours of the time of dozens of women.
Fun fact: there's an interesting theory that says feminism only existed because of laundry machines and similar devices. Women found themselves having more free time, which they used to read and socialize. Educated women with more contacts made for easy organization of political movements, and the fact men were now able to do "the women's work" by pushing a button meant men were less opposed to losing their housewives' labor. Having specialized menders and magic cleaners could cause a comparable revolution in a fantasy setting, and help explain why women have a similar standing to men even in combat occupations such as adventuring.
​
Healing in general (1st-2nd level).
This one is fairly obvious. A commoner has 4 hit points, that means just about any spell is a full heal to the average person. That means most cuts, stab wounds, etc. can be solved by the resident cleric. Even broken bones that would leave you in bed for months can be solved in a matter of seconds as soon as the holy man arrives.
But that's nothing compared to the ability to cure diseases. While the only spell that can cure diseases is Lesser Restoration, which is second level, a paladin can do it much more easily with just a Lay on Hands. This means if one or two people catch a disease it can just be eradicated with a touch.
However doing that comes with a cost. If everyone is instantly expunged of illness, the populace does not build up their immune systems. Regular disease becomes less common, sure, but whenever it is reintroduced (by, say, immigrants or contact with less civilized humanoids) it can spread like wildfire, afflicting people so fast that no amount of healers will have the magic juice to deal with it.
Diseases become rare, plagues become common.
​
Continual Flame (2nd).
Ok, this one is a topic i love and could easily be its own post.
There's an article called "Why the Falling Cost of Light Matters", which goes in detail about how man went from chopping wood for fire, to using animal fat for candles, then other oils, whale oil, kerosene, then finally incandescent light bulbs, and more recently LED lights. Each of these leaps is orders of grandeur more efficient than the previous one, to the point that the cost of light today is about 500,000 times cheaper than it was for for a caveman. And until the early 1900s the only way mankind knew of making light was to set things on fire.
Continual Flame on the other hand allows you to turn 50gp worth of rubies and a 2nd level spell slot into a torch that burns forever. In a society that spends 60 hours of labor to be able to generate 140 minutes of light, this is a huge game changer.
This single spell, which i am 99% sure was just created as an excuse for why the dungeon is lit despite going for centuries without maintenance, allows you to have things like public lighting. Even if you only add a new "torchpost" every other week or month sooner or later you'll be left with a neatly lit city, specially if the city has had thousands of years in which to gather the rubies and light them up.
And because the demand of rubies becomes so important, consider how governments would react. Lighting the streets is a public service, if its strategically relevant to make the city safer at night, would that not warrant some restrictions on ruby sales? Perhaps even banning the use of rubies in jewelry?
Trivia: John D. Rockefeller, the richest man in history, gained his wealth selling kerosene. Kerosene at the time was used to light lamps. Gasoline was invented much later, when Rockefeller tasked a bunch of scientists to come up with a use for some byproducts of the kerosene production. This illustrates how much money is to be had in the lighting industry, and you could even have your own Rockefeller ruby baron in your game. I shall call him... Dohn J. Stonebreaker. Perfect name for a mining entrepreneur.
Whether the ruby trade ends up a monopoly under the direct supervision of the king or a free market, do keep in mind that Continual Flame is by far the most efficient way of creating light.
​
Gentle Repose (2nd).
Cast it on a corpse, and it stays preserved for 10 days.
This has many potential uses, from preserving foodstuffs (hey, some rare meats are expensive enough to warrant it) to keeping the bodies of old rulers preserved. Even if a ruler died of old age and cannot be resurrected, the body could be kept "fresh" out of respect/ceremony. Besides, it keeps the corpse from becoming undead.
​
Skywrite (2nd).
Ok, this one is mostly a gag. While the spell can be used by officials to make official announcements to the populace, such as new laws or important news, i like to just use it for spam. I mean, its a ritual spell that writes a message on the sky; what else would people use it for?
Imagine you show up in a city, and there's half a dozen clouds reading "buy at X, we have what you need", "get your farming supplies over at Joe's store" or "vote Y for the city council".
The possibilities are endless, and there's no way the players can expect it. Just keep in mind that by RAW the spell can only do words, meaning no images. No Patrick, "8===D" is not a word.
​
Zone of Truth (2nd).
This one is too obvious. Put all suspects of a crime into a ZoT, wait a couple minutes to make sure they fail the save, then ask each one if he did it. Sure its not a perfect system, things like the Ring of Mind Shielding still exist, but it's got a better chance of getting the right guy than most medieval justice systems. And probably more than a few contemporary ones. All while taking only a fraction of the time.
More importantly, with all the average crimes being handled instantly, the guards and investigators have more time to properly investigate the more unusual crimes that might actually involve a Thought Shield, Ring of Mind Shielding or a level 17 Mastermind.
There is a human rights argument against messing with people's minds in any way, which is why this may not be practiced in every kingdom. But there are definitely some more lawful societies that would use ZoT on just about every crime.
Why swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth when you can just stand in a zone of truth?
Another interesting use for ZoT is oaths. When someone is appointed into an office, gets to a high rank in the military or a guild, just put them in a ZoT while they make their oath to stand for the organization's values and yadda yadda. Of course they can be corrupted later on, but at least you make sure they're honest when they are sworn in.
​
Sending (3rd).
Sending is busted in so many ways.
The more "vanilla" use of it is to just communicate over long distances. We all know that information is important, and that sometimes getting information a whole day ahead can lead to a 40% return on a massive two-year investment. Being able to know of invasions, monsters, disasters, etc. without waiting days or weeks for a courier can be vital for the survival of a nation. Another notable example is that one dude who ran super fast for a while to be the first to tell his side of a recent event.
But the real broken thing here is... Sending can Send to any creature, on any plane; the only restriction being "with which you are familiar". In D&D dead people just get sent to one of the afterlife planes, meaning that talking to your dead grandfather would be as simple as Sending to him. Settling inheritance disputes was never easier!
Before moving on to the next point let me ask you something: Is a cleric familiar with his god? Is a warlock familiar with his patron?
​
Speak With Dead (3rd).
Much like Sending, this lets you easily settle disputes. Is the senate/council arguing over a controversial topic? Just ask the beloved hero or ruler from 200 years ago what he thinks on the subject. As long his skeleton still has a jaw (or if he has been kept in Gentle Repose), he can answer.
This can also be used to ask people who killed them, except murderers also know this. Plan on killing someone? Accidentally killed someone? Make sure to inutilize the jaw. Its either that, being so stealthy the victim can't identify you, or being caught.
​
Note on spell availability.
Oh boy. No world-altering 4th level spells for some reason, and suddenly we're playing with the big boys now.
Spells up to 3rd level are what I'd consider "somewhat accessible", and can be arranged for a fee even for regular citizens. For instance the vanilla Priest statblock (MM348) is a 5th level cleric, and the standard vanilla Druid (MM346) a 4th level druid.
Spells of 5th level onward will be considered something only the top 1% is able to afford, or large organizations such as guilds, temples or government.
​
Dream (5th).
I was originally going to put Dream along with Sending and Telepathy as "long range communication", but decided against it due to each of them having unique uses.
And when it comes to Dream, it has the unique ability of allowing you to put your 8 hours of sleep to good use. A tutor could hire someone to cast Dream on him, thus allowing him to teach his student for 8 hours at any distance. This is a way you could even access hermits that live in the middle of nowhere or in secluded monasteries. Very wealthy families or rulers would be willing to pay a good amount of money to make sure their heirs get that extra bit of education.
Its like online classes, but while you sleep!
Another interesting use is for cheating. Know a princess or queen you like? She likes you back? Her dad put 400 trained soldiers between you? No problemo! Just find a 9th level Bard, Warlock or Wizard, but who am i kidding, of course it'll be a bard. And that bard is probably you. Now you have 8 hours to do whatever you want, and no physical evidence will be left.
​
Raise Dead (5th).
Few things matter more in life than death. And the ability to resurrect people has a huge impact on society. The impact is so huge that this topic needs topics of its own.
First, diamond monopoly. Remember what i said about how Continual Flame would lead to controlled ruby sales due to its strategic value? This is the same principle, but a hundred times stronger. Resurrection is a huge strategic resource. It makes assassinations harder, can be used to bring back your officials or highest level soldiers over and over during a war, etc. This means more authoritarian regimes would do everything within their power to control the supply and stock of diamonds. Which in turn means if anyone wants to have someone resurrected, even in times of peace, they'll need to call in a favor, do a quest, grease some hands...
Second, resurrection insurance. People hate risks. That's why insurance is such a huge industry, taking up about 15% of the US GDP. People insure their cars, houses... even their lives. Resurrection just means "life insurance" is taken more literally. This makes even more sense when you consider how expensive resurrection is: nobody can afford it in one go, but if you pay a little every month or year you can save up enough to have it done when the need arises.
This is generally incompatible with the idea of a State-run monopoly over diamonds, but that just means different countries within a setting can take different approaches.
To make things easier, i even used some microeconomics to make a sheet in my personal random generators to calculate the price of such a service. Just head to the "Insurance" tab and fill in the information relative to your setting.
With actual life insurance resurrection can cost as little as 5gp a year for humans or 8sp a year for elves, making resurrection way more affordable than it looks.
Also, do you know why pirates wore a single gold earring? It was so that if your body washes up on the shore whoever finds it can use the money to arrange a proper burial. Sure there's a risk of the finder taking it and walking away, but the pirates did it anyway. With resurrection in play, might as well just wear a diamond earring instead and hope the finder is nice enough to bring you back.
I got so carried away with the whole insurance thing i almost forgot: the possibility of resurrection also changes how murders are committed.
If you want someone dead but resurrection exists, you have to remove the vital organs. Decapitation would be far more common. Sure resurrection is still possible, but it requires higher level spells or Reincarnate, which has... quirks.
As a result it should be very obvious when someone was killed by accident or an overreaction, and when someone was specifically out to kill the victim.
​
Scrying (5th).
This one is somewhat obvious, in that everyone and their mother knows it helps finding people. But who needs finding? Well, that would be those who are hiding.
The main use i see for this spell, by far, is locating escaped criminals. Just collect a sample of hair or blood when arresting someone (or shipping them to hard labor which is way smarter), and if they escape you'll be almost guaranteed to successfully scry on them.
A similar concept to this is seen in the Dragon Age series. If you're a mage the paladins keep a sample of your blood in something called a phylactery, and that can be used to track you down. There's even a quest or two about mages trying to destroy their phylacteries before escaping.
Similarly, if you plan a jailbreak it would be highly beneficial to destroy the blood/hair sample first. As a matter of fact i can even see a thieves guild hiring a low level party to take out the sample while the professional infiltrators get the prisoner out. Keep in mind both events must be done at the same time, otherwise the guards will just collect a new sample or would have already taken it to the wizard.
But guards aren't the only ones with resources. A loan shark could keep blood samples of his debtors, a mobster can keep one of those who owe him favors, etc. And the blood is ceremoniously returned only when the debt is fully paid.
​
Teleportation Circle (5th), Transport Via Plants (6th).
In other words, long range teleportation. This is such a huge thing that it is hard to properly explain how important it is.
Teleportation Circle creates a 10ft. circle, and everyone has one round to get in and appear on the target location. Assuming 30ft. movement that means you can get 192 people through, which is a lot of potential merchants going across any distance. Or 672 people dashing.
Math note: A 30ft radius square around a 10ft. diameter square, minus the 4 original squares. Or [(6*2+2)^2]-4 squares of 5ft. each. Hence 192 people.
Getting hundreds of merchants, workers, soldiers, etc. across any distance is nothing to scoff at. In fact, it could help explain why PHB item prices are so standardized: Arbitrage is so easy and cheap that price differences across multiple markets become negligible. Unless of course countries start setting up tax collectors outside of the permanent teleportation circles in order to charge tariffs.
Transport Via Plants does something very similar but it requires 5ft of movement to go through, which means less people can be teleported. On the other hand it doesn't burn 50gp and can take you to any tree the druid is familiar with, making it nearly impossible for tax collectors to be waiting on the other side. Unfortunately druids tend to be a lot less willing to aid smugglers, so your best bet might be a bard using spells that don't belong to his list.
With these methods of long range teleportation not only does trade get easier, but it also becomes possible to colonize or inhabit far away places. For instance if someone finds a gold mine in the antarctic you could set up a mine and bring food and other supplies via teleportation.
​
Major Image (6th level slot).
Major Image is a 3rd level spell that creates an illusion over a 20ft cube, complete with image, sound, smell and temperature. When cast with a 6th level slot or higher, it lasts indefinitely.
That my friends, is a huge spell. Why get the world's best painter to decorate the ceiling of your cathedral when you can just get an illusion made in six seconds?
The uses for decorating large buildings is already good, but remember: we're not restricted to sight.
Cast this on a room and it'll always be cool and smell nice. Inns would love that, as would anyone who always sleeps or works in the same room. Desert cities have never been so chill.
You can even use an illusion to make the front of your shop seem flashier, while hollering on loop to bring customers in.
The only limit to this spell is your imagination, though I'm pretty sure it was originally made just to hide secret passages.
Trivia: the ki-rin (VGM163) can cast Major Image as a 6th level spell, at will. It's probably meant to give them fabulous lairs yet all it takes is someone doing the holy horsey a big favor, and it could enchant the whole city in a few hours. Shiniest city on the planet, always at a nice temperature and with a fragrance of lilac, gooseberries or whatever you want.
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Simulacrum (7th).
Spend 12 hours and 1500gp worth of ruby dust, and get a clone of yourself. Notably, each caster can only have one simulacrum, regardless of who the person he cloned is.
How this changes the world? By allowing the rich and powerful to be in two places at once. Kings now have a perfect impersonator who thinks just like them. A wealthy banker can run two branches of his company. Etc.
This makes life much easier, but also competes with Continual Flame over resources.
It also gives "go fuck yourself" a whole new meaning, making the sentence a valid Suggestion.
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Clone (8th).
If there's one spell i despise, its Clone.
Wizard-only preemptive resurrection. Touch spell, costs 1.000gp worth of diamonds each time, takes 120 days to come into effect, and creates a copy of the creature that the soul occupies if the original dies. Oh, and the copy can be made younger.
Why is it so despicable? Because it makes people effectively immortal. Accidents and assassinations just get you sent to the clone, and old age can be forever delayed because you keep going back to younger versions of yourself. Being a touch spell means the wizard can cast it on anyone he wants.
In other words: high level wizards, and only wizards, get to make anyone immortal.
That means wizards will inevitably rule any world in which this spell exists.
Think about it. Rulers want to live forever. Wizards can make you live forever. Wizards want other stuff, which you must give them if you want to continue being Cloned. Rulers who refuse this deal eventually die, rulers who accept stick around forever. Natural selection makes it so that eventually the only rulers left are those who sold their soul to wizards. Figuratively, i hope.
The fact that there are only a handful of wizards out there who are high enough level to cast the spell means its easier for them organize and/or form a cartel or union (cartels/unions are easier to maintain the fewer suppliers are involved).
This leads to a dystopian scenario where mages rule, kings are authoritarian pawns and nobody else has a say in anything. Honestly it would make for a fun campaign in and of itself, but unless that's specifically what you're going for it'll just derail everything else.
Oh, and Clone also means any and all liches are absolute idiots. Liches are people who turned themselves into undead abominations in order to gain eternal life at the cost of having to feed on souls. They're all able to cast 9th level wizard spells, so why not just cast an 8th level one and keep undeath away? Saves you the trouble of going after souls, and you keep the ability to enjoy food or a day in the sun.
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Demiplane (8th).
Your own 30ft. room of nothingness. Perfect place for storage and a DM's nightmare given how once players have access to it they'll just start looting furniture and such. Oh the horror.
But alas, infinite storage is not the reason this is a broken spell. No sir.
Remember: you can access someone else's demiplane. That means a caster in city 1 can put things into a demiplane, and a caster in city 2 can pull them out of any surface.
But wait, there's more! There's nothing anywhere saying you can't have two doors to the same demiplane open at once. Now you're effectively opening a portal between two places, which stays open for a whole hour.
But wait, there's even more! Anyone from any plane can open a door to your neat little demiplane. Now we can get multiple casters from multiple planes connecting all of those places, for one hour. Sure this is a very expensive thing to do since you're having to coordinate multiple high level individuals in different planes, but the payoff is just as high. We're talking about potential integration between the most varied markets imaginable, few things in the multiverse are more valuable or profitable. Its a do-it-yourself Sigil.
One little plot hook i like about demiplanes is abandoned/inactive ones. Old wizard/warlock died, and nobody knows how to access his demiplanes. Because he's at least level 15 you just know there's some good stuff in there, but nobody can get to it. Now the players have to find a journal, diary, stored memory or any other way of knowing enough about the demiplane to access it.
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True Polymorph (9th).
True Polymorph. The spell that can turn any race into any other race, or object. And vice-versa. You can go full fairy godmother and turn mice into horses. For a spell that can change anything about one's body it would not be an unusual ruling to say it can change one's sex. At the very least it can turn a man into a chair, and the chair into a woman (or vice-versa of course).
But honestly, that's just the tip of the True Polymorph iceberg. Just read this more carefully:
> You transform the creature into a different creature, the creature into a nonmagical object, or the object into a creature
This means you can turn a rock or twig into a human. A fully functional human with, as far as the rules go, a soul. You can create life.
But wait, there's more! Nothing there says you have to turn the target into a known creature on an existing creature. The narcissist bard wants to create a whole race of people who look like him? True Polymorph. A player wants to play a weird ass homebrew race and you have no idea how it would fit into the setting? True Polymorph. Wizard needs a way to quickly populate a kingdom and doesn't want to wait decades for the subjects to grow up? True Polymorph. Warlock must provide his patron 100 souls in order to free his own? True Polymorph. The sorcerer wants to do something cool? Fuck that guy, sorcerers don't get any of the fun high level spells; True Poly is available to literally every arcane caster but the sorcerer.
Note: what good is Twinned Spell if all the high level twinnable spells have been specifically made unavailable to sorcerers?
Do keep in mind however that this brings a whole new discussion on human rights. Does a table have rights? Does it have rights after being turned into a living thing? If it had an owner, is it now a slave? Your country will need so many new laws, just to deal with this one spell.
People often say that high level wizards are deities for all intents and purposes. This is the utmost proof of that. Clerics don't get to create life out of thin air, wizards do. The cleric worships a deity, the wizard is the deity.
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Conclusion.
Intelligent creatures not only can game the system, but it is entirely in character for them to do so. I'll even argue that if humanoids don't use magic to improve their lives when it's available, you're pushing the suspension of disbelief.
With this post i hope to have helped you make more complex and realistic societies, as well as provide a few interesting and unusual plot hooks
Lastly, as much as i hate comment begging i must admit i am eager to see what spells other players think can completely change the world. Because at the end of the day we all know that extra d6 damage is not what causes empires to rise and fall, its the utility spells that make the best stories.
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Edit: Added spell level to all spells, and would like to thank u/kaul_field for helping with finishing touches and being overall a great mod.

Part 2:
Aleksei entered his cramped office and sat at his desk, lighting a cigarette. Tatyana followed in closely afterward, pausing to survey the room.
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There was one bookshelf against the wall to the left which was sloppily filled with textbooks, encyclopedias, and loose papers. Some had even fallen from the bookshelf and lay on the floor. The only sources of light in the room were a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and a desk lamp. Aleksei’s desk was directly in front of her with a chair on either side. To the right was a large chalkboard that had writings and images all over it. Nothing specific, but what you’d expect to see in a scientist’s office.
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Though, Aleksei was no scientist. He was a former KGB officer who was transferred suddenly to lead the boots on the ground team. Partly because of his piloting experience and his reputation in Moscow. Partly because of his unwavering loyalty to the Soviet Union.
​
“What do you think?” Aleksei asked as he flipped through some dossiers while taking a drag from his cigarette.
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“About what Comrade Aksynov?” Tatyana asked, unsure why he was addressing her in English. Perhaps as a test of her fluency?
​
“About the team…”
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“Well,” she said, taking a seat, “they aren’t Russian that’s for sure. Surely Moscow could have sent in -” She was abruptly interrupted
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“This is how it has to be done. We couldn’t do this mission without the resources from the West. And in return, we are allowing them to participate.” He took another drag.
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“In that case.” She looked down at the clipboard. She had been taking meticulous notes throughout the briefing. “Georgina Metz. Age 32. Studied Medicine at Harvard University. Smart, confident, calculating. She’s actually really great. Have you read her research paper on - ” Aleksei waved at her to continue.
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She flipped to the next page. “Francois Leblanc. Age 48. Mechanical Engineer. University of Cambridge. Joined the French National Centre for Space Studies 18 years ago. Quite, intuitive, and ready to be led. He loves his country, and will do anything asked of him.”
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She flipped to the last page. “Mark Kirby. Age 33. Mining and Mineral Engineer and US Army Officer. Crass, brutish, and untrusting of the Soviet Union. But damn good at what he does.” Tatyana flipped back to the first page and handed her clipboard over to Aleksei.
​
He thanked her and examined the notes, going back between them and the official dossiers for a few minutes before glancing up at her.
​
He then laid the clipboard to the side, checked his watch, and paused for a moment before asking, “Comrade Markov, why are you here?”
​
She was taken aback by the question. Was he not impressed with her qualifications? Did he think she was too young...too inexperienced at only 26?
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“A-as you know. I was the one who translated the voices in the audio. Linguists and anthropologists all over the Union couldn’t, but I did. What if you encounter more writing or, or, or, more voices? You need me. Not here, but there. I want to be there. The others have skills, sure, but they don’t understand as I do. I mean, we haven’t even told them what..." She stopped herself, taking a deep breath. "I want to do this. For all Mankind.”
​
She fell silent. Looking for Aleksei to react. He shook his head slightly. “No Comrade, why are you here.” He gestured to the chair she was sitting in. “It is a quarter till 6pm. You were supposed to get the team to Warehouse 3C.”
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She put her hand to her mouth. “Вот, дерьмо!”
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Aleksei put out his cigarette with 3 quick jabs into his ashtray before picking up the phone on his desk and dialing. Tatyana stood and quickly left the room.
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His thoughts lingered on what Tatyana had said. “For all mankind,” he said to himself.
​
The line connected and he spoke into the phone, “Okay, Comrades. It’s time to get you acquainted with your new toys. Meet me in Warehouse 3C.”
------------------------------------------------
Francois, Georgina, and Kirby traveled down the hallway. They were careful to follow the signs which directed them to Warehouse 3C as this facility was huge and they did not want to spend the next hour getting lost and backtracking.
​
“Wish they at least sent someone to escort us….” Francois thought out loud as he walked through hallway after hallway with the others.
​
While walking, he began reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had transpired. It was only 16 hours ago that he was sleeping soundly with his wife before being awoken suddenly by a knock on the door of his 2 bedroom apartment.
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The knock had startled his infant daughter, Marie, awake. When she began to cry his wife, Elizabeth, sat up to rock her crib. Frustrated by the situation Francois crossed his apartment and answered the door. On the other side were two men in military uniforms.
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One of the men immediately handed him a piece of paper while the other spoke. “Francois Leblanc?”
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“Uh...yes?” Francois said, looking down at the paper in his hands.
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“You are to come with us. You have been selected to participate in a top-secret mission in collaboration with other countries on behalf of France and the National Centre for Space Studies. Pack a single bag of essentials and meet us outside.” Then, men both turned and quickly walked away.
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Francois was dumbfounded. He looked down at the paper again. It was an official order from the President himself co-signed by the head of the NCSS. There were no additional details.
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Within 5 minutes Francois was packed and saying goodbye to his wife and daughter who were now both crying. “How can they just make you leave your family? Your newborn daughter? How can they just take you away in the middle of the night!” Elizabeth yelled through tears.
​
“They wouldn’t be here if it weren’t tremendously important. They probably just need some emergency consulting regarding some sort of new experimental tech they’re working on with NASA or something. Do not worry, my love. I will be back soon. Everything is okay. Je vous aime.” With that, he kissed his wife, said goodbye to his still crying daughter, and exited the apartment.
​
He was driven directly to a small airfield and then ushered aboard a military transport plane along with other similarly dazed personnel and multiple crates of equipment. This must have been more serious than he initially thought. What had he been asked to help with? Was he lying to his wife and himself when he said there was nothing to worry about?
​
Francois leaned back in his chair and buckled in, shaking the thoughts out of his head. There is no point dwelling on that now. Francois was ready to serve his country however he could, but he would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge the knot that began to form in his stomach.
-------------------------------------------------------
“Hellooo...Earth to Francois?” Georgiana said melodically as she gave him a tap on the shoulder.
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“Oh, uh, sorry. What was that?” Francois said, seemingly coming back to the here and now.
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“Do you have anyone back home?”
​
“Yes. Yes, a wife and daughter.”
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“I bet they’re very proud of you.” She said, thinking how nice it must be to have someone feel that way about you. She looked over to ask Francois another question, but he seemed to have retreated back into his own thoughts so she decided to leave him be.
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After a few minutes, they turned a corner and arrived in yet another long hallway with brick walls and a dark concrete floor. She knew they were in the right place when she saw Tatyana waving them over to one of the doors about a third of the way down the hallway from where they stood.
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“Привет, сюда!” Tatyana yelled, continuing to wave them over. The group approached her and she led them into the room.
​
When Georgina entered the room she was immediately impressed by its size. She expected a stuffy old warehouse with crates and shelves, various mechanical equipment, tools, etc. Yet, what she entered was a large football stadium-sized room with a few tables and crates sitting just by the door they entered in. In the center was a Lunar Lander and next to it was a Moon rover.
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Incredible what the Soviets had done here. They secretly constructed an entire facility in and under the Siberian wilderness and had done so in apparently record time. “Do the Americans have anything like this?” She thought to herself.
​
The group stopped at the tables, Tatyana walked to the other side of the tables joining a tall, lanky looking scientist. “Everyone, this is Dr. Maxwell. He led the development team for everything you’ll see here today.”
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Dr. Maxwell reached out and shook their hands. “It is nice to meet you. Let’s get to it.”
​
He opened a locker behind him and removed three pistols. To Georgina, they looked like something out of a science fiction novel.
​
“The Soviet Union began experimenting with lasers in the fifties and sixties. Its first laser weapons, emerging in the seventies, were fixed ground-based systems. Terra-3 and Omega. Terra-3 encompassed two different devices, installed in Kazakhstan initially conceived in the 1960s to swat down ballistic missiles in the terminal descending phase.
​
The concurrently developed Omega lasers were intended to hit aircraft and missiles in the atmosphere. Omega-1 and -2 proved more successful at striking distant targets, but the system still lacked sufficient hitting power and power generation. Designing a laser that could maintain a power-efficient beam over long distances is difficult—so perhaps, I thought, the solution was to get up close.
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In 1984, my team developed a laser pistol, a precursor to what you are seeing here today. It was intended for use by Cosmonauts to damage the optics of Western satellites or blind hostile astronauts, without causing hull damage to a spacecraft. Each pull of the trigger electrically discharges a pyrotechnic flashbulb cartridge stored in an eight-round box magazine.
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However, the laser pistols inflicted very light damage—between one and ten joules of energy, equivalent to an air gun—and had an effective range of only twenty meters. The design did not advance beyond the prototype stage. Or so we reported.
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Here, at this facility, we continued our work and have created what you see before you. A true laser pistol, capable of viable use in combat”
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Yet again, as with the footage from the Moon, the group was left speechless.
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“As you can see, we do great work here,” Tatyana said proudly, standing a little taller.
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“Hell. Yes. This is awesome. I can’t wait to tell the crew back in the States about this.” Kirby grabbed one of the pistols and began aiming with it, pointing it towards a stack of crates behind the tables.
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Georgina inspected one as well. “This is truly remarkable, Doctor. Why are they so large though? Won’t these be difficult to carry and handle?”
​
“We constructed this with your EVA suits and the Moon’s lesser gravity in mind. The pistols will rest snuggly in your gloved hands and the weight will not be an issue. The size is because we do not yet have the technology to make it any more compact. But, an additional feature of this device is that since these are not projectile-based weapons, there is no recoil to worry about. Truly the best defense a Cosmonaut could ask for. Well, aside from the suit.” Dr. Maxwell said.
​
Georgina stepped back. “Wait...are you all expecting we will need to use these?” She asked Tatyana.
​
“Better to have it and not need it, then need it and not have it,” Aleksei said as he entered the warehouse. “After all, we wouldn’t want to equip our heroes with anything but the best. That is true Soviet hospitality.”
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“Regardless, these pistols have uses beyond that of a traditional pistol. They can work to cut or heat objects, and can even create small holes through rock and minerals with enough shots.” Dr. Maxwell said, nodding towards Aleksei as he approached.
​
“Have we given them a rundown of their transportation?” Aleksei asked.
​
“We were just about to, Comrade Aksynov.”
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The group walked together to the center of the room where the two vehicles were located. One was a Lunar Lander and the other a rover, neither unlike that of the ones the Americans used when landing on the Moon. The only immediately identifiable difference was a large metal box affixed to the back of the rover and attached to that a long barrel ran from the back of the vehicle, down the middle, pointing out the front. It looked out of place, even to Georgina.
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“What is that for, Doctor?” She inquired.
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“That, Frau Metz, is for Mr. Kirby. A drill capable of cutting through the toughest material we know of. This is how you will regain access to the artifact’s chamber”
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“Enough about that,” Aleksei interjected. “We will run through various scenarios and training for both of these. We need each of you to be able to confidently operate and troubleshoot them in case something goes wrong.
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“And what about the shuttle itself?” Asked Francois.
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Aleksei shook his head. “I am the pilot, it would take too long to train you all on how to operate it. Besides...this gives us some assurances.”
​
“What assurances?” Asked Kirby
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“He means that it ensures his safety. That we protect his life by any means necessary. Because, without him, none of us are going home.” Georgina answered, crossing her arms and looking to Aleksei. She hadn’t decided if she trusted him yet, but she certainly respected him. “What have I got myself into…” she thought.
​
Aleksei began taking off his coat. Handing it to Dr. Maxwell. “Alright, it’s time to suit up and begin your training. This mission is on a tight schedule and I will not throw things off track with idle chit-chat. This is too important.”
​
“Important for who, Aleksei. You, your scientists, Moscow?”
​
Aleksei looked into Georgina’s eyes. Eyes, filled with determination. “This mission is bigger than any of us. It is vitally important that we accomplish what we are setting out to do. Find our lost team and regain access to the artifact.”
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“Not for me, not for us. For all Mankind.”
​
- End of Part 2
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Read Part 1: [Part 1] The Americans Didn't Make It to the Moon First. Their Astronauts Just Lived to Tell the Tale. : creepypasta (reddit.com)

“So uhh… is this even street legal?” I asked Chad as we merged onto the freeway, “I’m only asking because I don’t think it’s supposed to take up a lane and a half.”
“Don’t worry bro, as long as the police don’t see, we’ll be gucci.”
“Whatever,” I just hadn’t been able to escape thought bombardment lately. It seemed as if I couldn’t escape these perpetual thoughts of what was happening and what was going to happen. It terrified me to my core and I didn’t know how to stop it. Like having three different voices going over different scenarios in my head all at the same time. I didn’t really feel like talking, but apparently Chad could tell I was off.
“Listen, I know I may not seem great with like, emotions? And stuff, but bro, everything will work out in the end okay? Look at it this way, if we survive, then we did it and everything is gonna be fine. If we all die an agonizing death, well we won’t have to deal with any of this stuff anymore. One way or another, we’ll all put an end to this.” It was strange hearing Chad give legitimate emotional support, but as cheesy as what he was saying was, it did help.
“I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot Chad; and we’ve had our fair share of disagreements. But thanks, you’re right.” As confident as I was trying to sound in myself, I think he could tell I didn’t believe what was coming out of my mouth.
He frowned, “I bet it’s rough, being a human in a world designed for higher powers. I get it bro, nothing I’m gonna say is gonna help you fully. You’re an ant in a world of anteaters right now dude, but the fact right now is, you aren’t standing down. I guarantee if pretty much any entity or human were in your shoes right now, they wouldn’t even put them on. They wouldn’t be here dude, maybe it makes you stupid, or maybe it makes you brave. Maybe it’s a crossroads of both, who knows? But I’ll tell you something, if I were human, I wouldn’t be in this car right now, I would be at home just chillin. I would just be waiting for everything to blow over. You aren’t like that bro Joe, you got an iron will, and that right there is why I know you’ll survive.”
“You know what, it makes me really happy to hear you think so highly of me Chad.” Before I could finish what I was saying he interrupted.
“Don’t confuse facts with admiration Joe.” He paused, “I didn’t mean it like-”
I cut him off, “I got what you were saying. While you are proud of me for making it this far, you also see me as a complete and utter buffoon, I get it.”
“Yeah, I guess. But who uses the word buffoon?” he asked.
“I do ya buffoon.” I paused for a moment, thinking about how to articulate what I was thinking, “You must be pretty terrified right now yourself huh? Not to be insensitive or anything, but I saw you get bitten in half after doing nothing to that giant dildo. Then just a little bit after, Abraham killed it with no troubles. That must’ve made you realize how small you are too?”
He responded with sincerity, it was weird to not hear him perpetually cocky, “Well, I faced my own shortcomings a while back. I wasn’t joking when I said I like to stick with Rachel. She’s saved my life more times than I can count.”
I interrupted, “What like six?” upon immediate review of what I’d said I apologized, “Sorry, I don’t really know how to deal with anxiety any other way… continue.”
“It’s all good bro, I get it.” He was surprisingly relaxed, “But what I was saying is, when you’ve been face to face with your own mortality as many times as I have, it becomes something you expect. Like respawning in a video game dude, you begin to think that every time you’ll come back. But eventually, that life counter runs out, or the game crashes. You don’t even realize it though. It’s gonna happen to me eventually bro, and I’m gonna be honest, I don’t, like, fear it anymore. It’s kinda the reason I decided I’d help Terry no matter what he said. If I don’t come back this time, oh well. I’ve had way more time on this shitty rock than I deserve, so when that death finally comes, I’ll embrace it bro. But you, that’s not how you look at it is it?” He clearly wasn’t asking a rhetorical question.
“Can’t say it is big guy. I mean I guess in a way it is, my wife died after all, I had no friends because some thought I’d murdered her, the rest didn’t want to be associated with someone getting called a murderer. My family never responds to me or anything. I legitimately had nothing after Jane died, aside from a shitty office job, a shitty apartment and a shitty therapist.” I started crying, “Back when it happened I wouldn’t have given a shit if I died. Hell I would’ve embraced it. Even back when I found out it was Jeff, I was willing to try and kill him. Not because I thought I could win, but because I knew he would kill me if I tried anything. But now, he’s died so we can live, my wife’s murderer gave his life to protect those he cared about. I’m holding up my end of that unspoken bargain. All of you are the reason why I’m a little less dead inside, and why I actually had something to look forward to in the morning. This amazing world I used to think could only exist in stories online. I’m not gonna let you all die, not alone at least.”
“Shit bro.” Chad responded, “I didn’t really expect that. Don’t worry though my guy, we’re all gonna make it out of this alive. Remember, we got the Doc and Rache. We’ll put the fuckers in the hole they deserve.”
I didn’t respond, choosing to nod and look out at the green smudges on the side of the freeway. I wondered how everyone was holding up, we still had another hour before we got there. Considering Terry said the USPM members were coming with, they must’ve had some high speed... something to get them there as fast as possible. As we passed the taped off bunker, another thought occurred to me. Why was all of this happening in my state of all the places in the world? Does it happen everywhere and I just happen to be the only one writing about it? I mean, sure we have bigfoot sightings and stuff but what makes this state in particular so paranormal? I suppose I must just be the only one writing about it because of the fear of the government and all. I guess since I have so many powerful entities as friends and acquaintances I am just sort of immune to the government taking me away. They do like to keep their fair share of secrets with all these secret organizations. USPM, PFBI, what else is there? I mean, it’s gotta be more than just that right? What else, PNSF? Alien NASA? My mind eventually wandered to the inevitable.
“So how do you think they’re doing up there? Think any of them might be dead? Or is it like the bunker, and they are just getting started.” I asked hesitantly.
“Not sure bro, all we can do until we get there is hope everything is goin’ alright. Keep your mind on the positive, otherwise when we get there, you might not be ready for what you see.” It seemed like backwards thinking but I gave it a shot.
They’re all pretty strong, even the USPM guys. It seems like they should be able to handle just about anything that comes at them. Then again, if they have anyone comparable to threat level 20’s they could be in deep shit.
“How’d you meet them anyway? I feel like even though I’ve known all of you for a while, I don’t actually know you. How you all met, your history all of that.” I wasn’t all that curious but I had to do something to keep my mind from wandering.
“Well dude, the reason why is cause it isn’t all that and a bag of chips. Honestly, for the most part it’s kind of boring. Rachel I met about 20 years ago or so, back then I was still mostly human.” He stated nonchalantly.
“Uh, mostly?”
“I don’t think we got time to open that can of worms right now bro. But back when I was still mostly human, I was in the army, just the normal one if you’re confused at all. I was part of a small group of experiment soldiers so I guess it wasn’t exactly the normal Army. What happened was, I was just kinda out and about walking’ around this base down in South Africa, some really low key stuff. Lookin for some sort of mineral or somethin I think. It was something about there being like, an old meteor that crashed there I think. Anyway, I was walking around this base, having absolutely nothing to do, when I saw this woman off in the distance. Just sort of slowly walking over. Now this entire area had been like, closed off and shit. But she was on the inside which was really weird, cause the barricades were like, really high up. So I ran over to the nearest high ranked official and stuff and told him, ‘There’s this girl inside the barricade.’ and he was like, ‘That’s preposterous, there’s no way someone could get through it.’ Then I was like, ‘No there’s definitely someone inside.’ I was more articulate back then. Anyway, so this guy calls it in when he sees her. But by now she was waaay closer by now and I heard him whisper into his radio something like skin wearer or something. Next thing I knew, every soldier was at the ready, aiming their guns at her and shit. So he yells for her to ‘Turn back and run.’ But she didn’t listen, it was crazy but also kinda hot. Anyway, so this girl ends up throwing round all this crazy shit and I end up being the only one left standing. She gave me a once over and said, ‘Stand up before I kill you.’ By now I had a hard on out to-”
Before he could gesture I cut him off, “NOPE skip this bit, just get to it already!”
“Geeze, buzzkill. Basically, she wanted me to show her the spot where we were trying to find this mineral. So I take her there and everything and she just pours some liquid on the ground and it immediately starts melting, until it gets like, really far down. Then she drops a rope down, asking me to hold it. So I do cause of the whole,” I glared at him, “So I did, anyway she came back up a bit later and said she got what she came for. Gave me another once over and asked, ‘You aren’t normal are you?’ so I said, ‘Define normal.’ Then she let out a sigh and asked me to come with her. That’s basically how I met Rachel. The government thinks I’m dead though so it’s all good.”
“I gotta be honest Chad. You are a terrible story teller.” I said exasperated.
“Oh like you’re one to talk.” He retorted.
“Why do so many entities use reddit? I swear.” I asked with a sigh. He didn’t respond, instead choosing to let out his own sigh.
We drove for another 20 minutes or so before Chad said anything else. “We’re almost there bro, get your gameface on.”
I checked the mag in my future pistol, the sheath on my hip and made sure I was actually wearing the vest. “Yeah, I’m good to go.” I set the gun down immediately realizing something, “Shit shit shit, where is it?” I patted myself down, “So uh… I got some good news and bad news Chad. The bad news is I only have 13 rounds, the good news is these are the hollow point rounds.”
“Well, no turning back now.”
“Why?” I asked with a facetious undertone.
He didn’t get the hint, “We’re here bro.” I only then realized we had been stopped for about half a minute.
“Guess I was too busy panicking to realize, you ready?” He nodded, getting out of the vehicle and going around the back. I looked around as I slowly got out of the tank of a humvee, triple checking I had everything. “Yeah, this definitely looks like the right place.” I said as I saw the massacre before me. I almost forgot how fussy the brain gets about seeing dead bodies. There were maybe 30 of them laying just outside of the house. Some were torn to such small pieces they looked like bloodied sand. Others with holes large and small throughout their bodies. A few I recognized as Jacob’s innards to outtards ability. “I’m gonna be honest, I figured the place was gonna be bigger, but this is either the biggest house I’ve seen or the smallest mansion.” I joked, trying to hold back the urge to vomit from the smell.
“I don’t see anyone we know out here, let’s head in.” Chad said, wearing what looked like some sort of light armor or something. He noticed me looking up and down trying to figure out what it could be made of, “Genoskwa leather, it’s not like, great against bullets and stuff, but it’s a good buffer.” He proceeded to open the door.
All the lights were on, and yet the place was as dark as space. The only things I could see were dead bodies scattered everywhere, with all sorts of blood ranging from red to yellow, there was even some blue in the mix.
I heard a cough and looked around, “Joseph… why are you here” There was a familiar voice, and when I didn’t see anyone from where the voice came, I was almost certain it was him.
“David?” I asked
“Bingo.” He let out another cough, “Fjandinn, I don’t have time to ask you all this shit. They’re upstairs, some of the entities are strong as hell. Just make sure and stand behind the meathead.”
“Why didn’t the Doc patch you up?” I asked, hesitating.
“He had *cough* more pressing matters to tend to.”
“Here take these, it’s one of his steroids.” I said handing the bottle to his general area until he took them. “Alright Chad let’s go.” Only then remembering I couldn’t see where the stairs even were. “Hey, can you uh… Can you see where the stairs are?”
“Just over this way, it’s hard to see them. Just follow behind me bro.” I followed him, stepping in multiple pools of blood in the process. I began to notice some blood coming down at an angle, presumably the stairs. The smell only got worse as we made our way up.
Gagging multiple times, I finally managed to get out, “How can you stand this. I get you have experience and all but this is rancid. I feel like I am breathing in a dumpster fire of gasoline, shit and cat piss, cooking a stir fry of skunk vomit and seaweed noodles.”
“That’s pretty specific bro.” Was all Chad responded with.
“Well it’s the only way I can properly convey just how bad it smells in here. The stir fry might also have a splash of puss too.” With no response, we reached the top in silence, thankfully the walls and floor were actually visible now, “Psst, Chad.” I said in a hushed tone, “Don’t you think it should be louder?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, not even trying to hide his macho bravado.
“Dude quiet down. Just think about it, there’s a paranormal showdown going on right now, and all we could hear were the sounds of our footsteps. Right now even, just listen.”
There was a short pause, until I finally saw a look of understanding come over his face, “Shit bro you’re right.” Still talking like normal, “Maybe we should, like, sneakily sneak our way down the hall.” I sighed and nodded.
As we traversed the hall, I began to realize something Chad, unsurprisingly, hadn’t. The halls had been slowly but surely getting more narrow. Turning around, I saw that we had barely even walked five feet from the staircase. “Hey Chad, can you turn around real quick. I don’t think hallways are supposed to do this.” I waited for a response, but when I didn’t get one, I turned back around. He was gone, and the hallway was even more narrow than before. “Is this another illusion or something? I’m done with all this, ‘You can’t see me if I can’t see you’ bullshit. It’s pretty one sided.” I began pulling out the ninjato, knowing that if they were close I wouldn’t be able to land a shot. “Seriously, I’m just some guy. If you want to kill me what’s the point in all this?” When I got no response, I decided the best course of action would be to continue down the hall. The walls finally stopped getting closer when they were nearly touching my shoulders. The slightest angle in my walking would cause me to touch them. It was strange, they were warm, as if they were emanating heat rather than the house some alternate heating source. As I tried to turn around, the walls grew closer, so I decided I would just stick with keeping my eyes forward.
After 30 minutes or so I finally screamed, “WHAT DO YOU EVEN GET OUT OF THIS?! WHAT’S THE POINT OF WASTING YOUR POWERS ON FUCKING WITH SOME HUMAN?!” As expected though, there was no response. I decided that this wasn’t worth the effort and turned around. Seeing the staircase only about 15 feet behind me, I began to feel the walls begin to crush me, “So this is how I go? Getting crushed in a dump that smells worse than a skunks asshole. WELL IF IT’S MY TIME I’M GOING OUT SCREAMING BITCHES!” Just as I finished, I felt myself being shaken. Shortly after my eyes jolted open.
“Dude, what happened to you? You kinda just like, passed out a couple minutes ago. I’ve been trying to wake you up. Did you like, not sleep last night or something?” Chad didn’t sound the least bit concerned.
“And I am actually awake this time? I feel like this has happened before.” I took a deep breath through my nose, held it for a few seconds, then blew out, “I think we’re good. Let’s just head down the hall and get ready for this shitshow.”
“Agreed, I think that’s gonna be the best option bro.” He was surprisingly willing to actually listen to me. Maybe I’m just used to entities constantly talking down to me. Guess I’m not quite used to all this afterall. As we headed through the hall, I finally began to hear some sounds, though not what I was expecting to hear. It was agonized moaning, someone, or something in incomprehensible pain. “Look, I know we shouldn’t check it out, but it might actually be an ally.”
“Yeah, I think you might be right. It sounds familiar. I think it’s just down this way.” Chad responded, with some recognition in his voice.
We began running until I heard where the screams of agony were coming from. I stopped at a door on my left, but Chad kept running, “Hey! It’s coming from this one!”
He stopped almost immediately. Turning around, he stated with a colorless face, “So… you mean to tell me it’s coming from that door for you?” He sounded scared.
“Yeah? What do you mean for me?” I was confused. Did he figure something out before me?
“Bro, I’m hearing it from down the hall more. I think they’re trying to separate us. I mean like, I don’t hear anything coming from that door.” He sounded like he was about to piss himself.
“So you mean… it’s some type of auditory illusion or something?” I asked. He only responded with a nod, “In that case, we can’t have them sneaking up behind us, so let’s check this room first.” I reached for my ninjato, realizing I already had it in my hand. “That’s weird.” I thought out loud, “I don’t remember actually grabbing this while I was awake.” I shook it off as Chad approached. I switched the ninjato to my left hand as I pulled out the pistol. All while Chad was reaching for the door handle.
“Get ready,” He began counting down, “3… 2… 1.” He flung the door open and I immediately aimed my pistol inside. He winced, I presume from the scream that resonated with our very souls the moment the door opened. I felt as though I was temporarily stunned. Regaining my composure, I searched the room for the source of the scream.
“I-Is s-someone there?” I couldn’t quite identify the gender, or even age for that matter of the voice, “Can you help me? I’m over here, tied to the wall.” Turning towards the direction of the voice, I saw nothing.
“I don’t see you, where-” I cut myself off, “This is a trap isn’t it?”
“W-why would you think that?” I still couldn’t identify the voice to any degree.
I took another step inside, before feeling a pain in my stomach, then temporary airborne as I came crashing into the wall, “Holy fuck,” I was trying to catch my breath, “What was that?” The blow almost felt familiar somehow, looking up I saw why, “T-Takeo?”
His voice sent a chill down my spine, “Yes and no. Technically this body is the incarnation of that entity. But I stole it for my own personal use.”
“That means?” I was still trying to catch my breath. Distracting him to give Chad enough time to do something, “Maerod?”
“Only half right again.” He said, “I am merely a portion of Maerod's strength, the rest is being diverted elsewhere. We wanted to make sure no more trouble showed up. Luckily it was just you and this meathead.” He stated, swinging his fist back at Chad. Who surprisingly caught it mid swing.
“Wow bro, you got some good muscles on you. But you’re gonna need a few more to hurt this guy.” He used his spare hand to point a thumb at himself. Crushing Takeos hand with his other.
Jumping back, Takeo said “What on Earth?” Not nearly in as much pain as it seemed like he should’ve. “I realize I can only use so much power, but this body should still be nearly at it’s prior limit.”
“Look bro, you could throw those magical things at me all day and I would die pretty easily. But when you challenge me to a muscle competition,” He grinned, “You aren’t gonna win.” Chad ran after him, apparently not expecting Takeo’s incomprehensible speed, “Well shit bro, I can’t argue with that.” Shortly after saying that, he was knocked across the room into the wall. He got up seemingly uninjured likely due to the room being cleared of any debris. But when I looked at the wall he had slammed into, I didn’t see any damage done to it. “Look bro, you’re fast and all, but I don’t know if you’re gonna be able to kill me.”
“We’ll see about that.” I realized I still had my gun in my hand at this point. Hiding it under my leg, I waited for an opening.
The moment Takeo was no longer visible, Chad put up his arms which I only then noticed had bracers made of the leather. I saw the impacts Takeo made on the bracers. They were absorbing the blows incredibly well, to the point that Chad showed little evidence he was even being hit. A few seconds later I saw Takeo again, “What is with you, it was my understanding that you were a threat level 8 at most.”
“Huh, I don’t know what any of that threat level crap is, but Genoskwa leather is pretty durable if I do say so myself.”
Takeo froze in his tracks, “Wh-what did you say?” I saw him begin to let his guard down, and I began to slide my pistol out. “G-Genoskwa leather? There’s no way you managed to acquire something so valuable.”
Chad kept him going, “Well I killed it with my bare hands a while back.” He chuckled to himself, “bear hands. Anyway yeah bro, I like, killed one a while back while I was training and stuff.”
Takeo let his guard down almost entirely, “You must be level 14 minimum in that case. How could our calculations be this off-” I cut him off by firing a round at him. He dodged it and was on top of me in no time, “Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt someone while they’re talking to you?”
I stabbed the ninjato in my left hand into his stomach, “Ride or die bitch.” I followed up with two rounds to where a human heart would be.
“What, you think some silver… W-wait… what is this feeling? Pain perhaps?” He toppled to his side and I pulled my ninjato out of his stomach. Immediately after, he puffed into a cloud of smoke that quickly settled on the ground.
“Didn’t Tucker say it was supposed to be a slow and agonizing death?” I asked Chad.
“Bro, I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”
“Oh right, forgot about that, nevermind.” I checked the mag to see how much ammo I had left, “Ten rounds, let’s get going before anything else shows up.”

All these books take place at a specific time and place in Earth’s past. Other than that one nod to reality, all bets are off.

27. The Once and Future Witches by Alix E. Harrow - 2020

In 1893, there’s no such thing as witches. There used to be, in the wild, dark days before the burnings began, but now witching is nothing but tidy charms and nursery rhymes. If the modern woman wants any measure of power, she must find it at the ballot box.
But when the Eastwood sisters—James Juniper, Agnes Amaranth, and Beatrice Belladonna—join the suffragists of New Salem, they begin to pursue the forgotten words and ways that might turn the women’s movement into the witch’s movement. Stalked by shadows and sickness, hunted by forces who will not suffer a witch to vote—and perhaps not even to live—the sisters will need to delve into the oldest magics, draw new alliances, and heal the bond between them if they want to survive.
There’s no such thing as witches. But there will be.

“A love letter to folklore and the rebellious women of history.” ―Publishers Weekly

26. The Terror by Dan Simmons - 2007

The men on board HMS Terror have every expectation of triumph. As part of the 1845 Franklin Expedition, the first steam-powered vessels ever to search for the legendary Northwest Passage, they are as scientifically supported an enterprise as has ever set forth.
As they enter a second summer in the Arctic Circle without a thaw, though, they are stranded in a nightmarish landscape of encroaching ice and darkness. Endlessly cold, with diminishing rations, 126 men fight to survive with poisonous food, a dwindling supply of coal, and ships buckling in the grip of crushing ice. But their real enemy is far more terrifying.
There is something out there in the frigid darkness: an unseen predator stalking their ship, a monstrous terror constantly clawing to get in. As yet another winter approaches, as scurvy and starvation grow more terrible, and as the terror gets closer, the captain and his men begin to fear that there is no escape.

“The best and most unusual historical novel I have read in years.” ―The Boston Globe

25. Servant of the Underworld by Aliette de Bodard - 2010

Book 1 of 3 in the Obsidian and Blood series
Year One-Knife, Tenochtitlan the capital of the Aztecs. Human sacrifice and the magic of the living blood are the only things keeping the sun in the sky and the earth fertile.
A Priestess disappears from an empty room drenched in blood. It should be a usual investigation for Acatl, High Priest of the Dead—except that his estranged brother is involved, and the the more he digs, the deeper he is drawn into the political and magical intrigues of noblemen, soldiers, and priests-and of the gods themselves…

“Part murder mystery, part well-researched historical novel and part fantasy.” —SFX Magazine

24. The Philosopher's Flight by Tom Miller - 2018

Book 1 of 2 in The Philosophers Series
Eighteen-year-old Robert Weekes is one of the few men who practice empirical philosophy—an arcane, female-dominated branch of science used to summon the wind, heal the injured, and even fly.
He’s always dreamed of being the first man to join the US Sigilry Corps’ Rescue and Evacuation Department, an elite team of flying medics, but everyone knows that’s impossible: men can barely get off the ground. When a shocking tragedy puts Robert’s philosophical abilities to the test, he rises to the occasion and wins a scholarship to study philosophy at Radcliffe College—an all-women’s school.
At Radcliffe, Robert hones his flying skills and strives to win the respect of his classmates, a host of formidable and unruly women. Robert falls hard for Danielle Hardin, a disillusioned young hero of the Great War turned political radical. But Danielle’s activism and Robert’s recklessness attract the attention of the same fanatical anti-philosophical group that Robert’s mother fought against decades before.
With their lives in mounting danger, Robert and Danielle band together with a team of unlikely heroes to fight for Robert’s place among the next generation of empirical philosophers—and for philosophy’s very survival against the men who would destroy it.

“[A] wealth of worldbuilding in this deft, nonconformist historical fantasy set during World War I…Miller offers a nuanced adventure story that mixes romance, gunplay, and social awareness into its steampunk-ish revelry. A fun, fast-paced coming-of-age story laced with magic.” —Kirkus Reviews

23. Fevre Dream by George R.R. Martin - 1982

That’s right. The Game of Thrones guy wrote a darn good vampire book, too.
Abner Marsh, a struggling riverboat captain, suspects that something’s amiss when a wealthy aristocrat with a lucrative offer approaches him. The hauntingly pale, steely-eyed Joshua York doesn’t care that the icy winter of 1857 has wiped out all but one of Marsh’s dilapidated fleet; nor does he care that he won’t earn back his investment any time soon. York’s reasons for traversing the powerful Mississippi are to be none of Marsh’s concern—no matter how bizarre, arbitrary, or capricious York’s actions may prove. Not until the maiden voyage of Fevre Dream does Marsh realize that he has joined a mission both more sinister, and perhaps more noble, than his most fantastic nightmare—and humankind’s most impossible dream.

“An adventure into the heart of darkness that transcends even the most inventive vampire novels . . . Fevre Dream runs red with original, high adventure.” —Los Angeles Herald Examiner

22. Dodger by Terry Pratchett - 2012

A storm. Rain-lashed city streets. A flash of lightning. A scruffy lad sees a girl leap desperately from a horse-drawn carriage in a vain attempt to escape her captors. Can the lad stand by and let her be caught again? Of course not, because he’s…Dodger.
Seventeen-year-old Dodger may be a street urchin, but he gleans a living from London’s sewers, and he knows a jewel when he sees one. He’s not about to let anything happen to the unknown girl—not even if her fate impacts some of the most powerful people in England.
From Dodger’s encounter with the mad barber Sweeney Todd to his meetings with the great writer Charles Dickens and the calculating politician Benjamin Disraeli, history and fantasy intertwine in a breathtaking account of adventure and mystery.

“Masterful. Unexpected, drily funny and full of the pathos and wonder of life: Don’t miss it.” —Kirkus Reviews

21. The Strange Case of the Alchemist's Daughter by Theodora Goss - 2017

Book 1 of 3 in The Extraordinary Adventures of the Athena Club series
Mary Jekyll, alone and penniless following her parents’ death, is curious about the secrets of her father’s mysterious past. One clue in particular hints that Edward Hyde, her father’s former friend and a murderer, may be nearby, and there is a reward for information leading to his capture…a reward that would solve all of her immediate financial woes.
But her hunt leads her to Hyde’s daughter, Diana, a feral child left to be raised by nuns. With the assistance of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, Mary continues her search for the elusive Hyde, and soon befriends more women, all of whom have been created through terrifying experimentation: Beatrice Rappaccini, Catherin Moreau, and Justine Frankenstein.
When their investigations lead them to the discovery of a secret society of immoral and power-crazed scientists, the horrors of their past return. Now it is up to the monsters to finally triumph over the monstrous.

“A tour de force of reclaiming the narrative, executed with impressive wit and insight.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review

20. Shades of Milk and Honey by Mary Robinette Kowal - 2010

Book 1 of 5 in the Glamourist Histories series
Shades of Milk and Honey is exactly what we could expect from Jane Austen if she had been a fantasy writer: Pride and Prejudice meets Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. It is an intimate portrait of a woman, Jane, and her quest for love in a world where the manipulation of glamour is considered an essential skill for a lady of quality.
Jane and her sister Melody vie for the attentions of eligible men, and while Jane’s skill with glamour is remarkable, it is her sister who is fair of face. When Jane realizes that one of Melody’s suitors is set on taking advantage of her sister for the sake of her dowry, she pushes her skills to the limit of what her body can withstand in order to set things right—and, in the process, accidentally wanders into a love story of her own.

“With the grace of Sense and Sensibility, a touch of classic fairy tale magic, and an action-packed ending, this debut novel by an award-winning fantasy short story writer will appeal to fans of Jane Austen, Jane Yolen, Patricia Wrede, Susannah Clarke, and even Jasper Fforde.” —Library Journal

19. The Once and Future King by T. H. White - 1958

Once upon a time, a young boy called “Wart” was tutored by a magician named Merlyn in preparation for a future he couldn’t possibly imagine. A future in which he would ally himself with the greatest knights, love a legendary queen, and unite a country dedicated to chivalrous values. A future that would see him crowned and known for all time as Arthur, King of the Britons.
During Arthur’s reign, the kingdom of Camelot was founded to cast enlightenment on the Dark Ages, while the knights of the Round Table embarked on many a noble quest. But Merlyn foresaw the treachery that awaited his liege: the forbidden love between Queen Guenever and Lancelot, the wicked plots of Arthur’s half-sister Morgause, and the hatred she fostered in Mordred that would bring an end to the king’s dreams for Britain—and to the king himself.

“Touching, profound, funny and tragic.” —Los Angeles Times

18. The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov - 1966

One spring afternoon, the Devil, trailing fire and chaos in his wake, weaves himself out of the shadows and into Moscow.
Written during the darkest period of Stalin’s repressive reign and a devastating satire of Soviet life, it combines two distinct yet interwoven parts, one set in contemporary Moscow, the other in ancient Jerusalem, each brimming with historical, imaginary, frightful and wonderful characters. Although completed in 1940, The Master & Margarita was not published until 1966 when the first section appeared in the monthly magazine Moskva. Russians everywhere responded enthusiastically to the novel’s artistic and spiritual freedom and it was an immediate and enduring success.

“By turns hilarious, mysterious, contemplative, and poignant . . . A great work.” —Chicago Tribune

17. Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn - 2002

Book 1 of 5 in the Tales of the Otori series
In his black-walled fortress at Inuyama, the warlord Iida Sadamu surveys his famous nightingale floor. Constructed with exquisite skill, it sings at the tread of each human foot. No assassin can cross it unheard.
The youth Takeo has been brought up in a remote mountain village among the Hidden, a reclusive and spiritual people who have taught him only the ways of peace. But unbeknownst to him, his father was a celebrated assassin and a member of the Tribe, an ancient network of families with extraordinary, preternatural skills.
When Takeo’s village is pillaged, he is rescued and adopted by the mysterious Lord Otori Shigeru. Under the tutelage of Shigeru, he learns that he too possesses the skills of the Tribe. And, with this knowledge, he embarks on a journey that will lead him across the famed nightingale floor—and to his own unimaginable destiny…

“Satisfyingly rich in incident yet admirably spare in the telling…Hearn has created a world I anticipate returning to with pleasure.” —The New York Times Book Review

16. Bridge of Birds by Barry Hughart - 1984

Book 1 of 3 in The Chronicles of Master Li and Number Ten Ox
When the children of his village were struck with a mysterious illness, Number Ten Ox sought a wiseman to save them. He found master Li Kao, a scholar with a slight flaw in his character. Together they set out to find the Great Root of Power, the only possible cure.
The quest led them to a host of truly memorable characters, multiple wonders, incredible adventures—and strange coincidences, which were really not coincidences at all. And it involved them in an ancient crime that still perturbed the serenity of Heaven. Simply and charmingly told, this is a wry tale, a sly tale, and a story of wisdom delightfully askew. Once read, its marvels and beauty will not easily fade from the mind.

“Li Kao may have a slight flaw in his character but the book has none. I recommend it unconditionally and I predict Barry Hughart has quite a future as a fantasy writer.” —Anne McCaffrey, author of the Dragonriders of Pern series

15. Lion of Macedon by David Gemmell - 1990

Book 1 of 2 in the Greek Series
Over and again, the aged seeress Tamis scried all the possible tomorrows. In every one, dark forces threatened Greece; terrible evil was poised to reenter the world. The future held only one hope: a half-caste Spartan boy, Parmenion. So Tamis made it her mission to see that Parmenion would become the deadliest warrior in the world—no matter what the cost.
Raised to manhood in Sparta, bullied and forced to fight for his life every day, Parmenion had no notion of the unseen dimensions of magic and mystery that shaped his fate. He grew in strength and cunning. His military genius earned him the title Strategos in Sparta. His triumphs for the city of Thebes made him a hero. And finally his fate led him to the service of Philip of Macedon.
As Tamis had foreseen, Parmenion’s destiny was tied to the Dark God, to Philip, and to the yet-unborn Alexander. All too soon the future was upon them. Parmenion stood poised to defeat evil—or to open the gate for the Dark God to reenter the world.

14. Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier - 1999

Book 1 of 6 in The Sevenwaters Series
The Sevenwaters series takes place in Ireland and Britain in the ninth century.
Lovely Sorcha is the seventh child and only daughter of Lord Colum of Sevenwaters. Bereft of a mother, she is comforted by her six brothers who love and protect her. Sorcha is the light in their lives and they are determined that she know only contentment. But Sorcha’s joy is shattered when her father is bewitched by his new wife, an evil enchantress who binds her brothers with a terrible spell, a spell which only Sorcha can lift—by staying silent.
If she speaks before she completes the quest set to her by the Fair Folk and their queen, the Lady of the Forest, she will lose her brothers forever. When Sorcha is kidnapped by the enemies of Sevenwaters and taken to a foreign land, she is torn between the desire to save her beloved brothers, and a love that comes only once. Sorcha despairs that she will never able to complete her task, but the magic of the Fair Folk knows no boundaries, and love is the strongest magic of them all….

13. The Lions of Al-rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay - 1995

The ruling Asharites have come from the desert sands, worshipping the stars, their warrior blood fierce and pure. But over centuries, seduced by the sensuous pleasures of their new land, that stern piety has eroded. The Asharies empire has splintered into decadent city-states lead by warring petty kinds.
King Almalik of Cartada is on the ascendancy, adding city after city to his realm, even though Cartada is threatened by forces both within and without. Almalik is aided by his friend and advisor, the notorious Ammar ibn Khairan—poet, diplomat, soldier—until a summer afternoon of savage brutality changes their relationship forever.
Meanwhile, in the north, Rodrigo Belmonte, the Jaddite’s most celebrated and feared military leader, is driven into exile in the wake of events following the death of the king he loved. Rodrigo leads his mercenary company south, to the dangerous lands of Al-Rassan.
In the exquisite lakeside city of Ragosa, Rodrigo Belmonte and Ammar ibn Kharian meet and serve, for a time, the same master. Sharing the interwoven fate of these two men from different worlds—and increasingly torn in her feelings—is Jehane, the beautiful, accomplished court physician, whose own skills play an increasing role as Al-Rassan is swept to the brink of holy war, and beyond.
“A magnificent, deeply moving book.” —Locus

12. Outlander by Diana Gabaldon - 1992

Book 1 of 8 in the Outlander series
Scottish Highlands, 1945. Claire Randall, a former British combat nurse, is just back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon when she walks through a standing stone in one of the ancient circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach—an “outlander”—in a Scotland torn by war and raiding clans in the year of Our Lord… 1743.
Claire is catapulted into the intrigues of a world that threatens her life, and may shatter her heart. Marooned amid danger, passion, and violence, Claire learns her only chance of safety lies in Jamie Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior. What begins in compulsion becomes urgent need, and Claire finds herself torn between two very different men, in two irreconcilable lives.
“Marvelous and fantastic adventures, romance, sex . . . perfect escape reading.” —San Francisco Chronicle

11. Taliesin by Stephen R. Lawhead - 1987

Book 1 of 6 in The Pendragon Cycle
It was a time of legend, when the last shadows of the mighty Roman conqueror fade from the captured Isle of Britain. While across a vast sea, a bloody war shatters a peace that had flourished for two thousand years in the doomed kingdom of Atlantis.
Charis, a princess from Atlantis, escapes the terrible devastation of her land and meets the fabled seer and druid prince Taliesin, singer at the dawn of the age. Their incomparable love joins two astonishing worlds amid the fires of chaos, and spawns the miracles of Merlin and King Arthur.

“Reminiscent of C. S. Lewis . . . Highly recommended.” —Library Journal

10. Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter by Seth Grahame-Smith - 2010

Indiana, 1818. Moonlight falls through the dense woods that surround a one-room cabin, where a nine-year-old Abraham Lincoln kneels at his suffering mother’s bedside. She’s been stricken with something the old-timers call “Milk Sickness.”
“My baby boy…” she whispers before dying.
Only later will the grieving Abe learn that his mother’s fatal affliction was actually the work of a vampire.
When the truth becomes known to young Lincoln, he writes in his journal, “Henceforth my life shall be one of rigorous study and devotion. I shall become a master of mind and body. And this mastery shall have but one purpose. Gifted with his legendary height, strength, and skill with an ax, Abe sets out on a path of vengeance that will lead him all the way to the White House.
While Abraham Lincoln is widely lauded for saving and freeing millions of slaves, his valiant fight against the forces of the undead has remained in the shadows for hundreds of years. That is, until Seth Grahame-Smith stumbled upon The Secret Journal of Abraham Lincoln, and became the first living person to lay eyes on it in more than 140 years.
Using the journal as his guide and writing in the grand biographical style of Doris Kearns Goodwin and David McCullough, Seth has reconstructed the true life story of our greatest president for the first time-all while revealing the hidden history behind the Civil War and uncovering the role vampires played in the birth, growth, and near-death of our nation.

“[T]he funniest, most action-packed and weirdly well-researched account of the Civil War you’ll probably read in a long time. Grahame-Smith could be poised to become the Howard Zinn of vampire-related alterna-history.” ―Vanity Fair

9. His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novi - 2006

Book 1 of 10 in the Temeraire series
When HMS Reliant captures a French frigate and seizes its precious cargo (an unhatched dragon egg), fate sweeps Capt. Will Laurence from his seafaring life into an uncertain future—and an unexpected kinship with a most extraordinary creature. Thrust into the rarified world of the Aerial Corps as master of the dragon Temeraire, he will face a crash course in the daring tactics of airborne battle. For as France’s own dragon-borne forces rally to breach British soil in Bonaparte’s boldest gambit, Laurence and Temeraire must soar into their own baptism of fire.
“Terrifically entertaining.” —Stephen King

8. Soulless by Gail Carriger - 2009

Book 1 of 5 in The Parasol Protectorate series
Alexia Tarabotti is laboring under a great many social tribulations. First, she has no soul. Second, she’s a spinster whose father is both Italian and dead. Third, she was rudely attacked by a vampire, breaking all standards of social etiquette.
Where to go from there? From bad to worse, for Alexia accidentally kills the vampire, and then the appalling Lord Maccon (loud, messy, gorgeous, and a werewolf) is sent by Queen Victoria to investigate.
With unexpected vampires appearing and expected vampires disappearing, everyone seems to believe Alexia responsible. Can she figure out what is actually happening to London’s high society? Will her soulless ability to negate supernatural powers prove useful or just plain embarrassing? Finally, who is the real enemy, and do they have treacle tart?

“Carriger debuts brilliantly with a blend of Victorian romance, screwball comedy of manners and alternate history… This intoxicatingly witty parody will appeal to a wide cross-section of romance, fantasy and steampunk fans.” ―Publishers Weekly, starred review

7. Territory by Emma Bull - 2007

Tombstone, Arizona in 1881 is the site of one of the richest mineral strikes in American history, where veins of silver run like ley lines under the earth, a network of power that belongs to anyone who knows how to claim and defend it.
Above the ground, power is also about allegiances. A magician can drain his friends’ strength to strengthen himself, and can place them between him and danger. The one with the most friends stands to win the territory.
Jesse Fox left his Eastern college education to travel West, where he’s made some decidedly odd friends, like the physician Chow Lung, who insists that Jesse has a talent for magic. In Tombstone, Jesse meets the tubercular Doc Holliday, whose inner magic is as suppressed as his own, but whose power is enough to attract the sorcerous attention of Wyatt Earp.
Mildred Benjamin is a young widow making her living as a newspaper typesetter, and—unbeknownst to the other ladies of Tombstone—selling tales of Western derring-do to the magazines back East. Like Jesse, Mildred has episodes of seeing things that can’t possibly be there.
When a failed stage holdup results in two dead, Tombstone explodes with speculation about who attempted the robbery. The truth could destroy Earp’s plans for wealth and glory, and he’ll do anything to bury it. Meanwhile, outlaw leader John Ringo wants the same turf as Earp. Each courts Jesse as an ally, and tries to isolate him by endangering his friends, as they struggle for magical dominance of the territory.
Events are building toward the shootout of which you may have heard. But you haven’t heard the whole, secret story until you’ve read Emma Bull’s unique take on an American legend, in which absolutely nothing is as it seems…
“Emma Bull is really good.” —Neil Gaiman

6. The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. by Neal Stephenson & Nicole Galland - 2017

The Rise and Fall of D.O.D.O. is brilliant, fast-paced, and will give you sore wrists because it’s a thick, heavy book, but you will not want to put it down.
An expert in ancient languages is hired by a mysterious government agency to translate some documents that suggest that magic actually once existed in the world. But the advance of science caused magic to disappear in 1851. However, the existence of a two-hundred-year-old witch and some fancy technology allow a limited amount of magic to occur in this world, and soon the language expert and others are being sent back in time to repair history. And, if they’re lucky, bring magic back to the world.

“Quantum physics, witchcraft, and multiple groups with conflicting agendas, playfully mixed with vernacular from several centuries and a dizzying number of acronyms, create a fascinating experiment in speculation and metafiction that never loses sight of the human foibles and affections of its cast.” —Publishers Weekly

5. The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker - 2013

Chava is a golem, a creature made of clay, brought to life to by a disgraced rabbi who dabbles in dark Kabbalistic magic and dies at sea on the voyage from Poland. Chava is unmoored and adrift as the ship arrives in New York harbor in 1899.
Ahmad is a jinni, a being of fire born in the ancient Syrian desert, trapped in an old copper flask, and released in New York City, though still not entirely free.
Ahmad and Chava become unlikely friends and soul mates with a mystical connection. This debut novel weaves strands of Yiddish and Middle Eastern literature, historical fiction and magical fable into an inventive tale.

“[A] spellbinding blend of fantasy and historical fiction.” —Publishers Weekly

4. Soldier of the Mist by Gene Wolfe - 1986

Latro is a Roman mercenary who receives a head injury that deprives him of his short-term memory. In return it gives him the ability to converse with supernatural creatures, gods and goddesses who invisibly inhabit the ancient landscape.

“[A] wonder, yes, a genius.” ―The Washington Post Book World on Gene Wolfe

3. The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud - 2003

Book 1 of 4 in the Bartimaeus series
I’m a huge Jonathan Stroud fan, and this is the book that got me hooked.
Nathaniel is eleven-years-old and a magician’s apprentice, learning the traditional art of magic. All is well until he has a life-changing encounter with Simon Lovelace, a magician of unrivaled ruthlessness and ambition. When Lovelace brutally humiliates Nathaniel in public, Nathaniel decides to speed up his education, teaching himself spells far beyond his years.
With revenge on his mind, he masters one of the toughest spells of all and summons Bartimaeus, a five-thousand-year-old snarky djinni, to assist him. But summoning Bartimaeus and controlling him are two different things entirely, and when Nathaniel sends the djinni out to steal Lovelace’s greatest treasure, the Amulet of Samarkand, he finds himself caught up in a whirlwind of magical espionage, murder, and rebellion.

2. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke - 2004

In the year 1806, in the midst of the Napoleonic Wars, most people believe magic to have long since disappeared from England, until the reclusive Mr Norrell reveals his powers and becomes a celebrity overnight. Another practicing magician emerges: the young and daring Jonathan Strange. He becomes Norrell’s pupil and the two join forces in the war against France. But Strange is increasingly drawn to the wildest, most perilous forms of magic and soon he risks sacrificing not only his partnership with Norrell, but everything else he holds dear.

“Immense, intelligent, inventive… Clarke is a restrained and witty writer with an arch and eminently readable style.” ―Entertainment Weekly

1. Kindred by Octavia E. Butler - 1979

Kindred is an astonishing, fantastic book. Author Butler is a master. This book is often considered science fiction, but it easily could be called fantasy.
Dana, a modern black woman, is celebrating her twenty-sixth birthday with her new husband when she is snatched abruptly from her home in California and transported to the antebellum South. Rufus, the white son of a plantation owner, is drowning, and Dana has been summoned to save him. Dana is drawn back repeatedly through time to the slave quarters, and each time the stay grows longer, more arduous, and more dangerous until it is uncertain whether or not Dana’s life will end, long before it has a chance to begin.

“Truly terrifying… A book you’ll find hard to put down.” —Essence

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