Memonek¶
“This world of yours. Ships of wood and swords of steel. It's so … primitive. Like a fairy tale.”
“Where do you come from, lady, that our world seems a fable? You have no ships and swords?”
“We have them.” Lady Urusistra cast a hand across the sky. “You see those stars? That is my home—the timescape. Our ships are great star freighters that ply the space lanes. And among those stars, light hits as hard as steel.”
The native denizens of Axiom, the Plane of Uttermost Law, memonek dwell in a land with lakes and trees and birds and flowers. But on this alien world, the lakes are seas of mercury, the birds glitter with wings of glass stretched gossamer thin, and the flowers' petals are iridescent metal as flexible and fragile as any earthly rose.
The minds of memonek are highly ordered. Their reason is their great pride. But when descending to the lower planes, including a manifold like Orden where law and chaos mix, a sickness comes over them—an uncontrollable sensation called … emotion.
On Memonek¶
“You want to tell me what just happened?” Sir John asked.
Count Revile avoided his gaze, then turned and stamped away across the bloody battlefield.
“I'm fine!” Revile shouted, all evidence to the contrary.
“I know what I saw,” John said as he followed his friend. “You went into a bloodlust. And it's not the first time. Whether you like it or not, whether I like it or not, I'm in charge of this mission. Either you tell me what's going on, or I have no choice. I have to conclude you're a danger to the team and cut you loose.”
Revile stopped and turned to look at the rest of the party, recovering from their wounds. The memonek's white porcelain chest heaved as he tried to calm himself. His ceramic skin looked as strong as plate, but John knew it was brittle, fragile.
Count Revile took a deep breath. “We call it velloparatha,” he said. “In your tongue it would be … world-sick … or world-sickness? It is a thing that happens … to my people … when they come to your world. It is an illness of … of feeling. Emotion.”
“Are you going mad?” John asked in a whisper.
The memonek smiled ruefully. “It feels that way sometimes. I spent an hour this morning staring at an insect that landed on my finger—a grasshopper, the polder called it. I thought I had never seen a thing so perfect and beautiful. That was awe. As powerful as I have ever felt. In the battle today, anger—just as powerful.
“I thought I could resist it. When I arrived here and felt no different, I thought perhaps world-sickness was a legend. But it is a slow process, this illness, these insidious emotions.”
“No emotions where you're from?”
Count Revile shook his head. “Not like this. We are creatures of reason, we of Axiom. It is our art, our pride—our religion sometimes, methinks. We have emotions. Joy, sadness, wonder, grief. Love. But they are… a fashion. They do not happen to us. They are something we indulge in, out of propriety. Here… everything is order and chaos mixed—even in me. In me.” Revile placed his hand on his chest.
“In the battle today,” he said. “That anger was not directed at Ajax's War Dogs. It was directed at myself.”
“At yourself? Why? What did you—”
“John,” the memonek said, and now it was his turn to whisper. “I was afraid. Afraid of … of being wounded, of failing you, failing my friends … of dying. And out of that fear came … enormous anger—at myself. Anger that I was so weak, so … useless. Anger so … strong, so powerful … I forgot who I was.”
John chuckled. “That's just …” He smiled broadly. “That's normal, man. That's just normal. We all feel that way.”
“What? No, you don't understand—”
“Oh, I don't understand? Okay, let me guess—it felt like you were gonna piss yourself.”
“Yes!”
“Yeah, happens to all of us.”
“Even you?!”
Sir John shrugged. “Are you kidding? Sure. But it doesn't help. You still got a job to do. In fact, I'd say that is the job. Anyone can learn the blade.” He placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Nothing special about that. It's learning to deal with the fear. That's the job—what separates the professionals from the amateurs.”
Count Revile said nothing, just thinking.
“Feeling better?”
Revile nodded. “I always recover afterward, but these outbursts come unbidden, like thunder from a clear sky.”
“Hmm. Yeah. Well, that explains what happened when you met Embers.”
Count Revile did not like being reminded of that. He looked to the sky and shook his head. “I made a fool of myself.”
“Don't be so hard on yourself. If you're trying to seduce our void mage, you made a good start of it. She's three thousand years old, I've known her since I was fifteen. I don't think I've ever seen her blush. Anyway, now that I know what's going on, now that I know you're basically a giant teenager with overactive glands, I can relax a little.”
Sir John and Count Revile, both tacticians, stood together on the bloody battlefield, looking at each other.
“John, I fear this may get worse before it gets better.”
“So, just like everything else?” He clapped the memonek on the shoulder. “Don't worry, we'll help you get through it. I'll let the others know. Once they understand, they'll help too. They'll probably just take the piss out of you. That'll help, you'll love that.”
“You're a good friend, John.”
“Heh. Is that you, or the world-sickness talking?”
“Me, I think. The world-sickness would have me say … you're a bastardly son of a bitch. But you're my bastardly son of a bitch.” Count Revile smiled.
John laughed and put his arm around his friend as they headed back to the party. “Funny. The world-sickness sounds a lot like me.”
Memonek Benefits¶
As a memonek character, you have the following benefits:
Lightweight¶
Your silicone body is aerodynamic and low in density. Your speed is 7, and whenever you fall, you reduce the distance of the fall by 2 squares. Additionally, your stability decreases by 2 to a minimum of 0. When you are force moved, you are force moved an additional 2 squares.
Keeper Of Order¶
When you or a creature adjacent to you makes a power roll, you can remove an edge or a bane on the roll as a free triggered action. You can only use this benefit once per round.