Degenesis Storytime: The House of That Violence Built S1

Winds carrying spores flow from the east, as insects thrive and infect the west. From the depths of Africa arise the inheritors of man kind, while the Sons of the Crow linger in the shadow of the Bygones. Underneath crumbling, ruined buildings. Rule is not set down by nations, but by Cults and faith. As man bickers, and bleats in the darkness thrashing around only to bite himself, they grow stronger. They who will one day inherit all.

This world is not our own. It has been taken from us.

Degenesis: Rebirth is the second edition of the German made roleplaying game by arthouse SIXMOREVODKA. Degensis takes place in 2595, five hundred years after a meteor cluster impacted Earth called 'the Eshaton'. Mankind of 2095 were already faced with several issues, including a virus that had infected most computers bricking them in the process and causing a collapse of the internet, along with a virulent, highly deadly mutated form of the AIDs virus. Oceans rose and fell, Germany was split down in the middle by a fissure dubbed 'the Reaper's Blow'. Inside of the meteorites was a substance called the Primer, which on Africa created the steadily encroaching Psychovore flora, while in the impacts across Europe a different form took shape. That of Sepsis, a fungal growth that steadily, slowly mutates all life around.

Cults arose. Some with origins long, long before Eshaton.

This story is not consumed with the titanic struggle of the 26th century Homo Sapiens and Homo Degenesis. It is a story of people. Cobbling together a world from the ruins of mistakes past and present.

When the Black God rose, many rose up with him. Long silent clans gathered themselves and followed their god on his great march south. Praha burned. Now the fires of its ruination warm its invaders through the long winter. Still, the Black God marched south. From Borca to Balkhan, he carves a path of destruction in his wake. With him, clans driven by rage partook in violence, inflicted upon any and all that they perceived as having 'deserved it'. The march now carves through Pest. The Dushani's songs turn to cries of rage. Stability turns to chaos. The Balkhani suffer. Some have lost status, other have lost homes, and some have lost much, much more. Many fled Balkhan, moving north to Eastern Borca, with hope for a new future.

Four months ago they found a place. It was empty, but not theirs. It is called Junction, after the words on the sign that hangs over the ancient overpass. Who placed the rusted sign there, and when, is unknown. Junction was used as a place of rest for Jehammedans taking the journey to and from Osman. Now, it is a growing and bustling settlement of sheet metal shacks and tents. The refugees from Balkhan have taken this spot as their own. They've assembled their homes on the overpass and beneath it, in the underpass. Like an invasive plant, the shacks and tents spread out uncontrolled and chaotic. The only rhythm to be found in this place is in the synchronized stories of suffering from the refugees.

They were ignored by the rest of the world for two months. Then the eyes of the Protectorate fell upon them, from the other side of the Reaper's Blow. The Chroniclers see suffering and opportunity. The Protectorate's allies, the Hellvetics, see a small, but potential danger: Junction is close to their territory in the Alps. By the time the Protectorate organized the first Hellvetic detachment to aid the settlement of Junction, it was already a culture of its own.Apocalyptics had taken the subway station as their home, and the tunnels within were their domain now. The Hellvetics give out scant food to the refugees, but it's not enough. Nothing seems enough to quell the growing discontent, the desire to blame, and the familial tensions that accompany all of Balkhani culture.

Now, the Protectorate's presence in Junction is limited. A Chronicler coordinates efforts alongside a high ranking Hellvetic. Some low ranking Hellvetic soldiers do what they can to hand out supplies and establish stability, but it is not enough. Junction must be evaluated, so the Protectorate has sent a small group to assist in the aid effort. It is the first days of Spring, and still snow covers the ground. The journey was not easy, but it was necessary. The Protectorate has sent two delegates alongside the latest Hellvetic supplies shipment from the Alps. The first is a Spitalian, who had to part ways with comrades during the Alps crossing. Most Spitalians who cross the Reaper's Blow are heading for Pollen, the front lines against the Primer. This one is going on a less glorious mission, but perhaps an equally important one. The second delegate is a lone Judge. They are a common sight in the Protectorate, but beyond those lands their power is limited. The land that awaits him may not be kind, but he has a mission.

The path Rodrigo Gutierrez and Judge Payne walk on clears steadily. The snow has been cleared by the Hellvetics that move to and from this place. Ahead of them, they can see Junction, with its large sign hanging off of what makes the settlement: A large, intact bridge from the pre-eshaton days. But before that bridge is the Hellvetic outpost, serving as a 'gate' of sorts to Junction. They are awaited by what looks like a female Hellvetic officer. The privates that were transporting food with Judge Payne and Rodrigo split off from the group to deliver their cargo. The Hellvetic officer steps forward.

"Is this all the Protectorate sent?" Freja states looking over the pair.

"That it is, as much as it shames me to see it,” Doctor Gutierrez replies to her with a nod.

"Afraid so,” Payne adds curtly.

"So be it." The woman seems frustrated. She motions to the Corporal beside her. “ I'm volunteering you to assist these men. I'll not have them wandering about without a proper Hellvetic at their side."

"Do you think this will be necessary?” Rodrigo asks, “I was told it was just refugees here."

"Just refugees means a lot,” Freja asserts, “Spitalian. You haven't been given an easy assignment. Our Chronicler can fill you all in on the details. Follow me. I'm Freja of Reschen. Current Commander of the Hellvetics here. You have a problem with them, you come to me."

Payne shrugs and scratches his head underneath his hat.

She leads the three men towards the Hellvetic outpost, a slate grey single story building. There are some watch towers assembled in the general area, but nothing significant. Inside the outpost, the dull hallways lead to a briefing room. A large table is in the center, covered with a mish-mash of papers.

"Wait here. The Chronicler will be joining your shortly." Freja says, then departs, leaving Rodrigo and Payne together in the quiet room. The dull hum of a fan drones on steadily in the background.

The Corporal relaxes his stiff military posture, and extends his hand to the Spitalian. "You can call me Leonz, if you want. We expected a larger party, but we're glad to see any help."

"Pleasure to meet you, Leonz, I'm Rodrigo. Say, have you been here for long?"

"Yea. I've been with Special Detachment officer Freja since we came down here. We've had our work cut out for us."

"The situation is bad, then?"

“Well, it could be worse. But we don't have enough supplies for the amount of people here at the moment. The settlement sprung up pretty fast, and a lot of people here have strained relations with each other."

“It's not long before voices can be heard down the hall and footsteps approaching. "Right, right, let's get on with it. Please don't touch anything." A man's voice says from the hall. A few moments later, a Chronicler enters. His face covered with a mask, the large, opaque eyes give him a permanently wide-eyed, almost surprised look. Behind him is someone decidedly different. A man clad in robes who the Chronicler seems to be guiding. A Clanner named Tomas Reik.

"Oh, you've all arrived,” Blip says beginning to note each person in the room, “Good. Spitalian, check. Judge, check. Mandatory Hellvetic, check. Here's your fourth member and resident Clanner representative. The luck winner of our delegate raffle! Uh... What was your name again?" The Chronicler turns to Tomas.

The man is bound in a white robe with an odd, ornate wooden mask upon his face that contrasts with the technological wonder that is the Chronicler's. He gives a slight bow to the group assembled, before turning to answer the question. "Tomas, my friend." His voice quiet calm.

"Right, right." The Chronicler says. He attempts to clear some space on the table, but only pushes the scattered documents around more.

"I'm Blip. And I'll have you all know I'm very important."

Rodrigo replies in monotone, "Naturally."

Judge Payne just nods.

"Now go on,” Blip impatiently declares, “introduce yourselves! Unless Spitalian, Judge, Hellvetic, and Tomas are fine by you."

"I'm Rodrigo Gutierrez, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I'm Judge Payne."

"Corporal Leonz Burkhalter, “ Leonz replies after saluting.

Tomas Reik stands there, silently observing behind his obscured visage, as being known as Tomas is perfectly fine with him.

"Excellent,” Blip states with a nod, “You'll all be reporting to me from now on. Has Freja filled you in on the status of Junction?” There's a pause. "No, of course not." Blip says right after answering his own question before anyone else could.

"Well then, ask your questions."

Rodrigo leans forward as he asks, "About how many people are we dealing with here?"

"At least two thousand,” Blip replies emphatically right away, “But that number's growing by the day at this rate. Without a proper census, the number isn't clear."

Payne asks after, "I wanted to know if there were any contacts from amongst the refugee populace to help us get acquainted with them."

"Right. Most of the refugees came with some fellow named Kuzman. Apparently he was a Voivode in Balkhan, some hotshot noble. You could consider him the figurehead of these people. Well, if you leave out the Apocalyptics from that equation. The Jehammedans on the outskirts may be of use, but I wouldn't count on it. Their numbers are few and they try to keep to themselves."

Tomas takes a step towards the Judge, saying with hidden lips, "If you need assistance talking around the camp as well, I've been attempting to make myself a familiar figure. I would be glad to introduce you to some of the more important members of this settlement."

Payne replies with, "Appreciate it."

Rodrigo purses his lips, asking, "Have there been any significant epidemics or plagues that you've noticed as of yet?"

Blip crosses his arms, "Do you consider Burn an epidemic?"

"More of a form of suicide,” Rodrigo answers shaking his head, “I was afraid it would have taken hold here."

Judge Payne sighs, almost inaudibly. ‘Burn. With the mention of the drug, memories inside my mind woke up, through a tint of blood and regret.’

"The tendrils of burn exist throughout East Borca,” Tomas states, gripping his staff firmer, “It stems from a responsible cultural use, but sadly the Apocalyptics push it beyond its natural limit."

Rodrigo snorts at the word 'responsible'. If Tomas took offense to that, he does not show it.

The Corporal, observant and silent, adds, "The Apocalyptics are the source, of course. They've taken up in the labyrinth of tunnels. They don't exactly welcome us down there."

"So, the Apocalpytics are mostly in the tunnels?" Payne asks.

"They call it the Underground,” Blip adds in answering, “An old subterranean transit station and its connected tunnels. I could not give you an accurate estimation of their numbers down there."

Payne only replies with, "Right."

The Corporal chimes again, "We've had some tenuous contact. There's more of them then you'd think, really. They do well in this sort of environment."

Payne’s eyes squint, "What sort of tenuous contact?"

"Pretty early on, a group called the Undying Wing took over. They're led by somebody called Old Blood. I haven't met him myself, but I hear he's quite the character. No violence, as of yet. I mean, we're here to try to prevent violence. But they're not enthusiastic about it."

Payne shrugs, "Figures."

"Ideally,” Blip states leaning forward, “I'd like to see the Apocalyptics under control before it gets out of hand. But it might already be out of hand."

Rodrigo shakes his head again, “I don't suppose appealing to their sense of reason and civil duty will make them stop trafficking burn, will it?"

Payne rolls his eyes over to Rodrigo.

Blip gives Rodrigo a glance, his mask maintaining that same expression as ever. "You could try."

Tomas Reik tilts his head for a moment, not sure if that was a joke or not. He's never known Spitalians to joke. "It would take considerable effort, either diplomatically or through force of arms to dislodge them. Any effort we make to limit their influence also runs the chance of sparking more anger in the populace."

Payne looks deathly serious for a moment, "They have an influence amongst the population?"
"They have all sorts of vices in the Underground,” Blip replies, “On top of Burn, they have brothels and bars and gambling dens and who knows what else. The Refugees pay to partake."

Rodrigo waves his hands around, "They're welcome to their regular vices. It's the part where they peddle poison that worries me."

Tomas leans towards Blip, "Chronicler, friend, is there anything else left that needs to be discussed?"

Blip ponders this for a moment, then digs through the documents on the briefing table. "It was right here... Ah, yes!"

"There's been reports of Gendo attacks around the outskirts of Junction. Freja's put forth a bounty of 20 Drafts per Gendo head. You can find Kuzman in the Underpass. That's where most of the original refugees are. There they can be sheltered from the elements. On top of the bridge and around it, well... That's everyone else. Just to the east of there you can find the entrance to the Underground. And if you really want to speak with the Jehammedans, they're on the northern outskirts."

"Will this be all? If so, I shall assist our newly arrived allies in the matters and members of this camp."

"Yes, that is all."

Tomas Reik gives the man a great bow, "I have been honored by your presence and words, as I am sure the others are, Chronicler."

"Yes, yes. Now hurry along. I expect periodic reports."

"They shall be punctual as I can manage them. Judge Payne, Spitalian Gutierrez, may you follow me?"
Rodrigo nods, "Certainly."

Payne waits, "I'll, uh, be with you in a minute."

Next, the Clanner man leads them on outside of the meeting place towards the wider settlement area. But first, there is something that Judge Payne needs to do first?

Judge Payne waits until the others leave, and then turns back to Blip.

"Do you need something, Judge Payne?"

"I was informed to assist you in whatever tasks you may need. I wished to know if there were any that required attendance to before I left."

"There may be some specific tasks I need assistance with down the line. For now, do your duty and try not to get killed out there."

Payne ponders this, before answering, "That would be all." He leaves Blip's presence to join the others.

As the group files outside the sight of the Chronicler, Tomas begins to shift posture. His back turns from straight up into a hunched for expression. His grip on his staff falls down, and he seems to take an a more relaxed, if very odd pose. "Ah, that's very good to get out of the way. Now, do any of you have any questions?"

Payne pops his neck, "Do you know anyone who knows his way around here?"

Tomas Reik extends out both arms, as if ready for an embrace, before going back to his same stance before.

"Right,” Payne states simply.