RPG gaming in '25 was again a bit of mixed bag; I played in more sessions than '24 but ran less myself.

I actually played in 7 different RPGs over '25, albeit some of them were for only 1 session each and several at the end of the year.
Interestingly 6 RPGs were for the 1st time!
Most of this came from Kevin's Noir Hack/City of Rain with 8 sessions and Matt's Dragonbane with 7 sessions.

RPGs played:
Different RPGS:7.
New RPGs: 6.
Total sessions: 25

Breakdown is as follows:
RPGs played:
Noir Hack/City of Rain: 8 sessions.
Dragonbane: 7 sessions.
Screams Amongst the Stars: 4 sessions.
Future Tales of Yesteryear/Astounding Interplanetary Adventures: 2 sessions.
D&D '24: 1 session/one shot.
Pulp Call of Cthulhu: 1 session.
D&D '24 - Curse of Strahd: 1 session
Western Hack: 1 session.
Total 25 sessions.

RPGs run:
The Evils of Illmire: 3 sessions.

RPG activity in 2024 was a bit of a mixed bag.

At the start of the year the Aldershot players played a one-shot of the rather dubiously named Only Maid of War, a crossover between Maid and Only War!

Saturday night RPGing was up slightly with Kevin managing to run all 15 episodes of season 1 of Future Tales of Yesteryear a retro-futuristic pulp romp through the Solar System using Astounding Interplanetary Adventures.

The Sunday group is still completely dormant.

With regards to running RPGs, I ran 7 sessions of The Evils of Illmire, taking the count up to 12.

RPGs played:
Different RPGS:2.
New RPGs: 1.
Sessions I ran: 7
Total sessions: 23

Breakdown is as follows:

RPGs played:
Only Maid of War: 1 session.
Future Tales of Yesteryear/Astounding Interplanetary Adventures: 15 sessions.
Total 16 sessions.

RPGs run:
The Evils of Illmire: 7 sessions.

2023 was a slight improvement on 2022.

The Saturday group had a fair number of sessions, Kevin ran Pulp Hack and concluded his 12 session run. Matakishi ran short campaigns of The Dee Sanction and Edgespace.
However, the Sunday group is still not participating in any RPGs.
The Friday group which planned to play a session a month quickly faded away at the start of the year after a couple of sessions.

On the upside though, I've started running a Saturday afternoon game which should occir every 3 weeks or so, In 2023 I managed to run 5 sessions.

RPGs played:
Different RPGS:4.
New RPGs: 4.
Sessions I ran: 5
Total sessions: 25

Breakdown is as follows:

RPGs played:
Vaesen: 3 sessions.
Pulp Hack: 9 sessions.
The Dee Sanction: 4 sessions
Space Hack/Edgespace: 4 sessions.
Total 20 sessions.

RPGs run:
The Evils of Illmire: 5 sessions.

2022 turned out to be a quiet year for RPGs.

My Saturday group slowed down it's rate of play significantly due to a number obstacles and we only played 6 sessions. I concluded my Beach Patrol game and Kevin kicked of his Pulp Hack campaign.
My Sunday group had been non-existent for the entirety of 2022 and played nothing.
Meanwhile, Matt managed to complete his last adventure for Romance of the Perilous Lands, then we managed to sort out a regular once-monthly Friday RPG which was Vaesen.

Different RPGs: 4
New RPGs: 2
Sessions I ran: 3
Total sessions: 10
​
These numbers are much lower than 2021.
This breaks down as follows:

The Pulp Hack: 3
Beach Patrol (Ran.): 3
Romance of the Perilous Lands: 2
Vaesen: 3

Let's hope 2023 is better!

23rd February 2022

It's a Wednesday evening and we're round Simon's in Woking for the next session of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land campaign.

The company had taken an uneventful journey to Camelot Castle, tasked with travelling to the village named Spindleston to investigate the appearance of a mysterious creature and their road took them through the famous stronghold.
More than its name suggested; Camelot Castle contained within the reach of its immensely thick alabaster stone walls, battlements and imposing towers a city known for its bright gleaming architecture, said by some to be lined with gold.

On their approach, the company had been awed to view Camelot’s tall ivory and glittering spires painted crimson by the day’s dying light as they loomed over a gloaming horizon and upon closing in, they had spied colourful pennants fluttering briskly on a stiff breeze against the reddening hue while Arthur’s own device hung from the tallest pole. Carrying message of their mission gave the company unimpeded entry into the city.
Passing under the colossal gatehouse led them along one of the city’s main paved white-stone thoroughfares and equally white buildings. Despite this pale lustre, the even-shadows grew longer over the brilliance that surrounded the company, casting a strangely glum pall over the otherwise gleaming city. Local folk and passerbys shifted their ways along nervously, the glint of suspicion marked out their eyes while numerous armed patrols, well armed with sword, decorated shield and tabard marched the avenues and streets diligently with a grim-eyed countenance to their faces. No amount of architectural brightness could conceal the air of gloom that hung over Camelot
The company’s way eventually led them to Camelot’s formidable, tall-walled inner keep, again their task granted them swift access through iron-shod gates into the interior.

Met by the seneschal and led through polished, curving corridors decorated with shields and various paintings to their guest chambers, the company rested a little and refreshed themselves. From their vantage they watched night blanketing Camelot City, waking a swathe of glittering lights along the streets and throughout the towers.
Later, the company was given an audience with King Arthur and invited to supper in his feasting hall. An enormous chamber, its walls were decorated with ornaments and the prizes of hunting and war, a raging fireplace bathed the room an orange glow while keeping the chill of night at bay. The company was seated at a heavy, ancient looking oak table resplendent with roasted meats, pies, bread and mead.

The company’s task was discussed at length with Arthur who while in his youth, exuded the tired worriness that came with the experience of many seasons.
A man not given to social niceties, King Arthur spoke frankly with the company and admitted to knowing of their quest, having relayed the information itself to the Iron Hawks some days ago. Arthur continued; following a two day hike from Spindleston a commoner had come into Camelot with talk of a Princess Margaret and Prince Dinadan going missing. This had been three weeks ago.
Princess Margaret was known to the king, being the daughter of an ally - King Mark of Norhaut. Word had reached Arthur of a calamity striking at the heart of Norhaut but details were fleeting.
Regardless of this, King Arthur wished the company to continue their investigation into the events at Spindleston. Talk continued into the night until the company retired.

The dawn, quiet and cool, had come as the company exited Camelot Castle’s great walls and rows of parapets, under an arching cerulean sky punctuated with drifting cotton-white cumulus clouds.
They made good time on the first leg of their two day journey and soon enough, the castle with its soaring spires and bright pennants had receded over the horizon. The company now found themselves travelling a wilderness as the trail took them beyond the various farmsteads that dotted agrarian plains which surrounded the castle and over a low rolling verdant landscape while skirting uninviting shadowy forest and babbling stream that glittered in the unfettered sunshine.
Shadows were at their shortest while the sun sat at its zenith when cheerful pipe music came floating on the air! Emerging from a nearby, dense, woody copse came a diminutive, lithe figure - a fairy!
The lithe figure was twinkle-eyed, displaying a sharp bent to their smile when they proposed playing the company a merry tune for but a gold piece. It seemed a hefty price but nonetheless, the company - suspecting some trickery - flipped him a coin and he did indeed pipe out a song as sunny as the day to entertain the company before they continued.
Travelling until dusk, the company made for the indistinct outline of a settlement they had spotted against the sky's failing reddish light. They found a remote farmstead whose occupants were happy enough to allow the company to sleep the night in their haybarn.

Another cool morning followed as the company departed. A blazing sun rising into the clear blue sky drove away dawn’s early chill as they rode deeper into the wild. The low undulating grassland that had marked out the previous day continued and soon all visible signs of civilization were swallowed by the tall, rippling stretches.
Traffic on the trail was nonexistent or at least was until the company encountered a mushroom hunter: This old woman with a wrinkled, ruddy complexion and straying grey hair carried a wicker basket brimming with all sorts of fungi and mushroom on one arm, flagging the company down with an energetic wave and yells as she hobbled from a ditch at the trailside.
Eager for company it seemed, the old woman explained that she lived in a hut some miles from Spindleston and made talk of The Copperwood, the forest that bordered the village, calling it an ancient place and warning the company of a monstrous wolf known as The Gwyllgi which at night, prowled the grounds surrounding ‘The Whistler, a gigantic standing stone said to consist entirely of jet. She also warned them of some scaled beast of sorts that had recently emerged and tended to linger in the depths of forest’s gloomy dells.
Finally, the old woman provided each of the company with a fat, red-coloured toadstool which she explained, when eaten could confer health on the eater.
A cursory examination from Hobard revealed that they would require cooking to sufficiently prepare the toadstools.
Trefor though, had already foolishly eaten his toadstool and the effect was almost immediate. Soon after we had bid the old woman good day, he found himself, while riding, vomiting noisily and worse. This would intermittently continue for the remainder of the day.

Later that day Trefor still did not have his retching under control and had been reduced to a miserable dry-heaving wreck as the company rode through the afternoon.
His predicament’s grim comedy had been almost enough to distract the company from the vicious attack of a bugbear that came lunging from a spread of dense thickets that flourished close to the trail. It charged, a twisted rage-filled countenance writ across its face.
To Hobard’s honed ranger’s eye  it was apparent the beast was clearly emaciated, he was quick to pull a ration from his haversack and lobbed in at the starving creature. It was enough to distract the bugbear, allowing the company to gallop on briskly, avoiding its ire.

The day’s heat was subsiding as lengthy shadows began sliding across the ground when the company encountered a wide but shallow river and further along its gnarly, grassy banks they spotted a distant, dark smear across the backdrop of foreboding forest - distant Spindleston village and beyond that, The Copperwood. Canting along the rapid, gurgling waters the company soon found themselves at the settlement’s outskirts.

A clamorous din welcomed them, numerous energetic voices and whoops of laughter mingled with the clang of clashing steel and a harsh, loud commanding voice. Spindleston bustled despite its small size and while riding through walled gates, the company found themselves in a short lane that led to a busy town square. A smattering of market stalls dotted the square, along with haggling traders and customers while at one end a juggler entertained children.
Further activity caught the attention of the company. In another corner of the square a young man, bearded and square-jawed, resplendent in fine armour displaying a forceful bearing was yelling at his complete opposites; a small band of poorly equipped and ill-fitted villagers brandishing spears and implements of various sorts while responding with particular ineptitude to his shouted instructions.
Being a knight himself. Trefor recognised it for what it was: A captain drilling his new recruits  - albeit fairly poor looking ones.

Trefor approached this captain who identified himself as Sir Dinadan! He went on to explain that he was preparing his men for an incursion into The Copperwood on the next morning where they would attempt to vanquish the wyrm which was said to prowl the forest’s gloomy, sunstarved boundaries.

Sir Dinadan went on to explain that Princess Margaret, his bride to be and he had recently reached Spindleston. Weeks past, Margaret had been cursed by her step-mother Behoc, put into a malevolent week-long deep sleep prior to their wedding by means of poisoning. Before Margaret woke, Norhaut was attacked and fell into the clutches of Mordred and Margaret’s father, King Mark slain by The Black lance. Barely managing to rescue Margaret, the pair fled, travelling for weeks before crossing the border into the protective sanctuary provided by Camelot.
They planned to rest for a time as their coin was dwindling but then Margaret had gone missing three weeks ago. Soon after, whispered words spreading throughout Spindleston had begun speaking of a wyrm, a monstrous creature which had spotted deep within The Copperwood.
Dinadan admitted he had been driven near mad with worry that Margaret has been eaten by such a monster and has now recruited some locals with what little coin he still has in his possession and plans to find and slay the dangerous beast.
Trefor explained that the company had been tasked with investigating The Copperwood and the wyrm, they could provide aid to Sir Dinadan. The knight seemed taciturnly satisfied with this and the company bid him good luck and good day before looking for lodgings.

The company continued on and found signage for The Pooka - a pub nestling among a row of homes in Spindleston: Its weatherworn sign creaking on an old post outside a limestone brick building.
Before entering, the company diverted to the village stables. There they found a youngish burly man with tight sandy coloured curls. Introducing himself as Jevan, he was the stablemaster and was willing to stable the company’s horses. While dismounting, Hobard couldn’t help but notice the despondent countenance on Jevan’s face.
Jevan explained that while in The Copperwood he had lost his wedding ring which greatly upset his wife and was now forced to sleep in the stable until it was recovered. While in the forest, Jevan had also found ‘Brinny’, stroking the mane of an already stabled but skittish, speckled grey horse, Jevan said he was a ‘friendly but strange pony’ who spent the hours of night staring out into some distant dark place outside the walls of Spindleston.

Entering The Pooka, the company found it to be a homely place that smelt of spilt beer and old oak, a faint smokey pall lingered below the exposed rafters while a stuffed fireplace crackled energetically, spreading a comfortable warmth throughout the common room while a handful of patrons conversed cheerfully. Among their number was a slim woman strumming a well made, silver inlaid harp and whose flame hair matched the fiery tongues of flame that flickered at the hearth. Her fingers plucked at the strings casually as she watched the company enter.
The company was enthusiastically greeted by the barkeep, a rotund man with a pronounced limp and who sported an enormous bristling grey mustache on a rosy cheeked, corpulent face.
The company exchanged coin for lodging and made small talk, which turned to The Copperwood and to the wyrm. At that, the barkeep’s face darkened. Quietly he told the company that he was desperate; his two children had gone missing, taken by the monster he believed and would willingly pay sixty gold coins to anyone who returned them.
It transpired that the barkeep’s opinion was not shared by the flame-haired harpist - the bard known as Laudine who had overheard the barkeep’s words, Laudine believed the wyrm was simply a beast from the wilds beyond Spindleston and any malicious behaviour it displayed must be the work of foul witchcraft.

Later, once the shroud of dusk had settled upon Spindleston, Hobard walked the now quiet and unlit streets to the stables. Jevan’s talk of the strange horse had piqued his interest and he sought to learn more.
Hobard found that Jevan had not bed down for the night and the stables were currently empty save for the horses. He approached Brinny and could see the horse was staring out beyond Spindleston. Something about the horse’s eyes did not sit well with the ranger and he intensely scrutinised them.
Abruptly, the eyes appeared to lighten from chestnut to ochre and somehow become rounder. Then where once stood tall Brinny the horse was a small hare at the bottom of the stall!

The hare stared at Hobard for but a moment with those disquietingly intelligent eyes before bounding powerfully out of the stall. Hobard gave chase as the hare streaked out of Spindlestone and towards The Copperwood. The inky gloom of the day’s failing light enveloping Hobard and the indistinct, irregular lights of the village grew distant, soon he lost sight of the hare as it entered the forest’s murky treeline.
Frustrated, he marched back to The Pooka, telling the incredulous others of his strange encounter.

With little that could be done during the onset of night, the company ate and drank for a while before retiring for the night.

Covid-19 continued to be an issue in 2021 and significantly affected some of the roleplaying I took part in.

The Saturday RPG group, which is now played over video-chat was easily the most prolific, most of this was Matakishi running nearly 2 entire 'seasons' of his Wired Neon Cities campaign in the earlier part of the year.

Different RPGs: 4
Sessions I ran: 9
Total sessions: 41

During 2021 I participated in 41 RPG sessions over 4 different RPGs, of those I ran 9 sessions.
This is mostly down on 2020, where I participated in 74 sessions over 10 different RPGs, however, I only ran 1 session in 2020.
​
The break down is as follows.

Wired Neon Cities: 25
Beach Patrol (Ran): 9
Romance of the Perilous Lands: 5
Those Dark Places: 2

I'm also seriously running late with my blogging, being over 6 months behind and will add links when I'm able to.

14th October 2021

It's a Thursday and we're at Simon's. It's time for the next episode of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land campaign.

​Location: The Pits

Yelling loudly, the company had raucously charged into the fray, weapons swinging: They had earlier found themselves within the confines of the tall stone walls that ringed Hykaria’s gladiatorial pits during illicit midnight combats and gambling. Infiltrating the rambunctious betting crowd, they were content to observe the situation for a time.
But matters had changed. 

The objective of their task; the disguised woman ‘Georgina’ had been dragged through a door and into one of the pits. She was nervously eying her surroundings when moments later, the opposite door slid open, a pair of bugbears came lumbering out of the darkness beyond and were released on her. With no time to lose the company realised, they gripped weapons and advanced on the pit while the hollering crowd reeled back at this sudden show of force The company pushed through and slid into it.
Hobard and Titus closed on the bugbears, the monstrous creatures with their strange snarling visages rounded on the pair, muscle squirmed beneath filthy matted fur as they lunged in response.
Above, a thunderous cheer issued forth from the baying crowd as the combatants met.

While battle was joined; Trefor had other ideas, as blows were exchanged he sidled up to the pit wall, slipping round the fight he unstoppered a small darkly coloured vial which he had pulled from the folds of his robe, downed it and grasped ‘George’.
The concoction had been a potion of flight: With unearthly movement, Trefor sped upwards becoming a murky shadow against the night’s starry patterns while gripping Georgina who gave a gasp of terror and struggled, limbs flaying erratically. Despite this protestation, Trefor steadfastly kept his grip on her as the others watched the pair move smoothly beyond the looming walls of the arena, swallowed by enveloping gloom.

Fighting continued, Titus had felled a bugbear to the mob’s approval while Garfield looked for a way out, as well as a manner to distract the mob.
Uttering an enchantment, a spell issued from Garfield, a number of the patrons were knocked into the pit! They sprawled across the hay and dirt covered floor, writhing in fear.
More blows were exchanged and soon Titus had dispatched the other monster, the yelling intensified. Titus was jubilant, raising fists to the glittering velvet-black sky while roaring his victorious demand for a prize. Coins rained, Titus went scrabbling for his reward.

Despite their martial success, Titus, Hobart and Garfield knew that their appearance would have raised suspicion, no doubt someone had gone yelling to the guard and they would soon come running.
The trio beat a hasty retreat, retreading the empty corridors with their sets of doors, into the windowless, dark study, down through glum unlit tunnels and on to the dim city streets licked by crimson light. Behind the silhouetted eastern skyline a thin rosy golden nimbus announced the arrival of dawn.

If any resident of Hykaria had been prowling those silent streets in the small hours, few would have thought of looking skyward. Thus it was that Trefor with Georgina in tow had passed over the lonely broad avenues of the city unseen. His robes fluttered slowly as the paved road rose up to meet his landing. Although still wide-eyed, Georgina had regained her wits, realising that Trefor was one to be trusted.
From there, he led her in a roundabout way through the latticework of shady alleys and backstreets that criss-crossed Hykaria to Joan’s safehouse and waited for his companions.
Elated greetings were exchanged by the reunited Joan and Georgina. For a while they spoke energetically until the exhausted Georgina retired.

​Short was Trefor’s wait fortunately, long morning shadows had begun to span the morning streets when the other trio regrouped at the safehouse.
Before the company could consider celebration, Joan appeared, telling them that their help was still needed - and without delay!

The company was to join one Prince Dinadan at some village called Spindleton. Then they would search for ‘the artefact’, some mysterious, possibly magical contraption. Joan then told them, it was suspected that it was in the possession of a dragon!

8th September 2021

It's a Wednesday evening and we're round Simon's for the next part of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land campaign.

​Garfield Greenfingers - Played by Steven
This former owner of an apothecary with an affinity for the esoteric arts and knowledge of the supernatural had joined the company. 

​Location: The Pit

The company had found themselves in the maze of brickwork tunnels that sprawled beneath Hykaria city, eventually leading them below some sort of manhole cover and to their destination. Made of iron, the manhole cover was heavy, Trefor had to exert himself to lift it.
Upon clambering out, the company’s dim wavering light revealed what appeared to be a windowless study.
The smell of old paper distinctly emanated from a wall of books, row upon row of mutely coloured spines on a myriad of subjects could be seen glumly lit on the shelving. Central in the room was a sturdy looking table of polished oak while flush against one side was a small and apparently unused bureau. Hanging from a wall hook was a thick woollen cloak decorated with clearly royal heraldry.
Beyond the room, the company could hear muffled, indistinguishable noises.

Searching the books revealed a series of ledgers documenting detailed listings of fights which had taken place in the pits as well as their participants. Further searching revealed details of ‘George’, the date of their arrival at the pits and where they were being held captive.
The company knew this was the pseudonym of Georgina, whom they had been tasked with rescuing from the pits.
Continued rummaging through the bureau found a ream of loose vellum letterheaded sheets and a wax stamp. The leafs were blank save for one among them which spoke vaguely of the indiscretions of some unnamed nobleman.

With nothing else to be found in this chamber, the company exited and found themselves in an empty gently curving grey-painted brick corridor lined with doors. One stood out among them; a larger, bulkier door.
Through the large door was a curiously long room and equally empty room. Running along one wall was a series of wooden booths. They were, the company surmised, some sort of gambling booths, no doubt used during the pit fights.
Returning to the corridor, the company continued searching.

While they went on, the dull, distant, muffled growl of a roaring crowd could be heard.
No fights would be scheduled for this hour as the company knew? No gambling either, the booths were unoccupied.
The company travelled the corridor, following the noise. It led past all other doors, eventually sloping downwards. Unveiling into a wider, wider space. It was a circular roofless room with the starry dome of night providing a ceiling. Carpeted in a layer of dirt, the circular space was populated with numerous pits. A mob of perhaps a hundred had congregated around one such pit. Bustling and hollering, the well-appointed crowd was entirely fixated on whatever was occurring in that pit.
As the company approached, they saw coin changing hands. Illicit combats and gambling were underway. Cautiously, they managed to insinuate themselves into the crowd and bustle to the pit. It was hosting a fight!
Below, a man displaying several bloody streaks through rips in clothing and brandishing a sword was ruggedly battling some vicious bearlike creature which sported a bizarre visage. It was, Garfield told them, a bugbear. The company had heard tales of such creatures, baleful, malignant and hateful of man.
As the fight continued, so did the gambling. Soon though, fortune favoured the man who managed to land the bugbear a telling blow - it was defeated. A cheer broke out of the gathered crowd.
Without delay, a heavy looking door in the side of the pit swung open, the man was led out and in his place came a smallish, thin man, slight of build. He was introduced as ‘George’.
From a second door, a pair of bugbears were pushed out. This would be a much harder fight.

It was then that the company chose to interfere. 

14th August 2021

​It's a Saturday night and we're logged into video chat for session 30 of Matakishi's Wired Neon Cities campaign which is also the final session of season 2!

Location: Neon City

“Bring your guns,” Porter Sladek had said over a message six hours ago. Had to meet him at Goji Tower, ready to go at seven AM.
No time for sleep.

First though, Koko powered the flier back to Hikage through the downpours. I watched wind blasted water beads slide horizontally off the rain hammered viewports as they caught the glint of the looming arrays of a million city lights that rolled by. Soon she put the flier down on a roof and we were out and went our own ways.
Briefly under the deluge then through the roof access, half jumping down flights of dull concrete steps that echoed distinctly while I descended the mostly empty stairwell until I reached my one-bed.
Rain splattered loudly against the tarp that secured one wall of the apartment against the elements. I ignored it, instead hitting up all my supplies.

Double checked the loadout for my .45 ACPs and took a full reload too.
Also packed a Konseye K4 backup. The stub nosed SMG wouldn’t hinder me, folded the stock and slung it in the small poly-nylon weaved holdall that held my Nonohiki. Grabbed all the stims I had at hand, ingests, drinks, dermals - whatever and dumped them in the holdall.
Finally as I left, I jammed a multipack of Savka sticks into the pockets on my Verskeit.

Caught up with the others on the rooftop again, curt nods all around meant we were ready for business. Nothing else to say.

​Short flight over to Rokkaku Expo Stadium, even so, it never deterred Neon City from piling it on.

Urus Konicek had pinged us. The Wilderness scavenger had news from The Enclave: Numerous fliers tagged with PGDF transponders had been detected overnight. Tracking data indicated activity was concentrated over the neck of the woods where we had previously found the old lab.
Urus wasn’t sure what was going down but he sent Neidzwiedz to investigate and would ping us again when something turned up.

​Coords provided by Porter Sladek led to the exclusive roof pad of a pricey penthouse on some local highrise east of the adjacent Goji Tower.
Rain had thinned; a slender band of burnt orange stretched across the silhouetted eastern skyline was driving night away. Through the retreating precipitous haze the enormous structure had been reduced to a vague behemothic shape outlined black against the diminishing night sky.
Dawn was not far.

Rooftop access led directly to the penthouse. A replica oak facsimile covered the ferro-carbon reinforced door auto-granted us access into a goldenly lit hallway decorated in cream and rose coloured fixtures. Our boots sank into the thick carpeting as we strode in to the sounds of voices.

Porter Sladek could be found standing in an exceptionally well appointed reception room at the balcony. Along with his customary denim slacks and Breach black turtleneck he also wore a Korean replica Keolmo branded icy white ten-gallon cowboy hat. Wasn’t hard to guess how he felt about his situation.
He may have had the ten-gallon on backwards?
Gripping a slim pair of obsidian black with silver trim Chanjueb binoculars, Porter Sladek was scoping out the Goji Tower, glancing only briefly at us as we entered.
“We need to get into the tower and kill Goji Rokkaku,” he told us matter-of-factly, turning back to the Chanjuebs. “He sent his zero beasts to try and rub me out last night. Would’ve worked, except for Dominic.”
Dominic 6-14, Porter Sladek’s personal robotic bodyguard was accompanying him. Servos buzzed almost imperceptibly as the robot turned to face us, I imagined his sensor arrays twitch, no doubt running a mandatory threat assessment protocol.

Porter Sladek wasn’t alone.
He was flanked by Oni Tokugawa, Michael Leander’s lean, cool-eyed, Uchike katana wielding master strategist and Oni’s own emotionless homicidal apprentice - Gemini Benedict.
There was serious political beef between Micheal Leander and Barnabas Heywood who were on opposing, warring factions on the Glitterband.
Goji Rokkaku had in some way aligned with Heywood and it had put Rokkaku squarely in Leander’s sights.
Made sense that Leander would send his top samurai against Goji. The enemy of my enemy.

Finally, there was someone who introduced herself as Seryy with an unsettling voice while staring intently at Koko with bottomless eyes.
Clothed in sandals, a red-and-white patterned trapeze dress and an obvious wig. Seryy had a strangely ashen complexion. Her large-headed frame and oversized coal-black, seemingly pupiless irises lent her a peculiar child-like but somewhat inhuman quality.
We’d seen her or perhaps someone like her before. Was she in some way an ally of Porter Sladek or just another enemy of Goji Rokakku?
Didn’t matter, took whatever we could get.
Porter Sladek’s binoculars were pushing a vid-feed to a local slate grey Karfseakk desk-slab propped up on a faux cherry wood side table. It was a fuzzy visual; range, distant rain and night did not help. Despite this, we could clearly see a number of four-metre high steel reinforced concrete barriers had been circled around the tower’s base.
It would make an already risky frontal assault much harder.

“We need to initiate a full-on frontal assault!” Porter Sladek informed us.

Before our approach could be discussed, a door swung open and there was Binary Johnny, the chin straps on his trademark goggles and imitation flying cap dancing merrily as he strode in carrying a grey stiffened card tray stacked with Tandredo Sinatti branded paper coffee cups. Bitter, pungent aromas floated across the room as Johnny handed out steaming drinks.

Was likely the Goji Tower would have some kind of serious anti-air defensive measures that could be quickly deployed. An approach on an aircraft, even the flier with its stealth tech was not viable.
No way of getting over the concrete coated barriers either: Earlier, looking for a way to scale the barriers, Oni Tokugawa had hit them with caltrops and pitons. The feed was showing they had melted into glinting ferrous silvery smears across the barrier’s surface. Sure sign that a localised but massively concentrated electrical field had been extended over the barriers.

Seryy seemed to have an idea on a way in though. She turned to Koko, explaining it might be dangerous and then held out a slender, weirdly overlong fingered hand.
Koko did not hesitate and took it.
The air surrounding the pair inexplicably wavered acutely like Neon City’s distant blue-white sky on a hot noon. The contortion continued, intensifying, eventually collapsing in on itself. Then, Koko and Seryy were gone - as was the distortion.

Immediately, over comms, Koko could be heard puking.
“We’re up in the Goji Tower,” came Koko’s voice after gathering her composure. “I’m not sure Seryy can do that again,” Koko added.
“I can maybe teleport one more,” explained Seryy.
“Send me,” I replied.

The suite squirmed into impossible shapes around me, light radiated through the room like an old overexposed photo while it simultaneously receded into an endless darkness, detail fading.
Realty then, untangled itself, normal light levels were restored.
Not dissimilar to lurching out of the GLOWNET, I was forced to shake off disorientation and nausea.
A cubicle surrounded me, white ceiling punctuated by a humming panel light hung above ash grey carpeting and perimetering it all were cream walls. Adjacent to a door was a frosted window while flush to one wall was an unused beige topped, laminated chipwood desk.
Koko and Seryy were also here, crouching

Koko pressed a finger to her lips, gesturing downwards and I dropped. For a second we were motionless, a distorted apparition passed the frosted glass, the indistinct figure obliviously walking along the outside corridor.

Time to get to work, grabbed a handful of carpet tuft in the corner and yanked hard. It rolled back to uncover various lines of cabling which ran along the wall including a networking cable.
Rummaging around the poly-nylon holdall I pulled a Maiulava microtool from a side pocket. It buzzed slightly as it cut through the cable’s vinyl insulation, exposing optics.
After that I daisy-chained a hard wire through my Nonohiki into the local network, through a jury-rigged port I’d spliced to it.

Jacking into the Nonohiki data-slab, the dull cubicle evaporated into nothingness while the Rokkaku private corporate network compiled about me.
Absent were the familiar colourful neonic constructs which public GLOWNET users would be accustomed to interacting with, instead replaced with a workmanlike monochrome networked file map encompassed by void.
Interfacing locally meant that the data-vault’s primary security measures had been already bypassed. Observing the stack on my Nonohiki showed an autonomous ICE presence in the network though.
It was passive but would become active if it detected non-typical code movement in the data-vault..
Had to move fast to deal with it and get it right the first time.

Quickly punched in a local recurring, mathematically expressed exponentially increasing query, then pushed it at the climate control diagnostic management protocol.
The protocol would respond by questioning the query which would - in turn respond with a new more complex query snaring the protocol in a loop.
It would take the ICE a few seconds to detect the unallotted increase in cycle usage and a few more seconds to kill the query. Enough time to relocate into the personnel files, stacks of data rolled by, found an offline high level user, cloned their network credentials over the bio-image data file on the Nonhiki, then switched to a wireless connection.
Worked, I was a ghost.

Even so, the clock was now ticking.
Once the query was shut down, the ICE would ping its changelog to a security user who would then follow the standard operating procedure for security users and personally come online to inspect the incident.
While I was invisible, the user I was piggybacking was not, they could be tracked.
Quickly I hit up the defence directory in the security partition. Activated a system update cycle for the anti-air measures, then pinged instructions to the others to get here.

The anti-air system would be out of reboot fairly quickly but it was enough time to allow Koko to remotely bring the others over in the flier and put down on a nearly featureless asphalt grey ancillary helipad at ground level while we rushed to meet them.
Got off the pad as quick as possible, the flier was out range for the defences here but was still an unauthorised vehicle, it might get flagged once the reboot had concluded.
Now, had to move fast.

Checked the network’s stack. Looked like the rogue query had been dealt with.
The ICE was now prowling the registry archive and looking for historical data inconsistencies, was also certain a security user had an online presence somewhere on the local network with a masked bio-image.

Found ourselves in a hallway decorated with polished granite tiling that glimmered in the diffused wall lighting. No one was about at this hour, no security either. So far, so good.

Encountered a row of silvery elevator doors set in the granite. Each one had a crystalline looking‘ call elevator’ stud that winked crimson when pressed.
Before we rode it, I spoofed an instruction line into the elevator management protocol to throw off any security response. Protocol would think we were going to floor forty. Real destination would be top of the tower; one-sixty.
The elevator interior with its white and silver decor and beige carpeting was typically pristine for a Rokkaku facility. An oblong console embedded in one elevator wall was populated by an elaborate looking grid of octagonally shaped faux crystal studs with numbers that ran one through to one-sixty. Punched the stud for one-sixty and sent the code for forty, doors slid shut and for a few seconds there was a tug on my guts as the elevator accelerated upwards in express mode.
Then, everything went wrong.

The crimson glint that had been hopping from stud to stud reached sixty and a sharp retort abruptly came from outside the car, followed by the harsh shriek of distorn metal, then, the car slowed, then, it stopped and then, we were in freefall.

Catastrophic failure on this magnitude just didn’t occur spontaneously; a deathtrap built into the elevator sounded just like Goji Rokkaku’s style.
As I felt my insides shift during downward acceleration, I watched the crimson glint backtrack at immense speed, the thought occurred to me that whatever security user was on the network had been good enough to had somehow made us.

During the plummet, Roderick and Dominc took a second to react. At impossible speed, each robot took an opposite wall in the elevator, braced against their chosen side and punched at it. The ferro-poly composite folded inwards under the immense blows, shunting panels from their housing. Almost immediately, both of them had gotten through the elevator walls and were driving their toughened steel fingers into the wall of the exterior shaft.

With a monstrous grinding roar, the elevator came to a halt enveloped in a shower of dust that had thinly streamed through the holes. On the panel, intermittent flickering came from the studs for floors twenty and twenty one.

Unused to these situations, Porter Sladek had panicked, pacing the car and protesting loudly, ironically fearing the noise of the drop would bring Rokkaku security.
“Take this, it’ll take the edge off,” Trigger offered, waving an adrenaline injector at him. Didn’t help, he then handed Porter Sladek a small tub from his personal stash of White Lotus liniment.
Before Porter Sladek responded, he was abruptly struck by Dominic with a free appendage, the robot impassively watched the billionaire senselessly flop to the elevator floor.
At least the yelling had stopped.
Needed a way out - quick!
Roderick and Dominic could only hold the car for so long. The rest of us worked at the elevator doors, prising them apart with effort.
What was on the other side surprised us.

The panel indicated the car had come to a stop between two floors. Instead of exposing the elevator shaft walls, the doors opened partway into a hidden floor between twenty and twenty-one.
How many secrets did the Goji Tower have?

Dragging the unconscious Porter Sladek with us, we clambered on to the hidden floor, followed by the two robots who simultaneously leapt out, allowing the elevator car to plunge into darkness below, impacting a few seconds later with a boom that reverbed throughout the shaft.

The hidden floor was workmanlike. Dangling strips of humming, flickering fluorescents inadequately lit small rooms and corridors of exposed grey concrete floors and ceiling that sandwiched long strips of some kind of large wall panels while being underpinned by unpainted steel jointing.
Footsteps echoed distinctly as we advanced through this sparse environment.
Threads of thick black rubbery cabling loosely pinned to undecorated cornices on each panel ran seemingly along the entire floor.
The cabling connected to square mechanisms that were attached to alternating panels and consisted of strengthened polyferro plating, power cells and hydraulic pumps linked to articulated piston actuators which were bolted between wall panels.
Johnny seemed to think that pistons were there to move the panelling. It was something that had been encountered during our last interdiction into the Goji Tower - moving walls. Only now we were looking at the guts of the system.
Further along we also came across regularly placed red coloured cylindrical tanks screwed to the ceiling, topped with nozzles and were labelled ‘fire suppressant’.
Otherwise the floor was empty.

Soon we came across another elevator, some kind of maintenance elevator this time that lacked the well appointed veneer of the previous one. The plain grey doors opened into an interior of more unpainted steel and panelling, along with a console of plain buttons. From those buttons it had become apparent that there was a hidden floor between every floor in the Goji Tower, this elevator only stopped at those hidden floors and went as high as the hidden floor between one-fifty-six and one-fifty-seven.
This time we got to the top without problem.

Continued exploring, same as the other floor, filled with moving wall panels, more fire suppression systems, another maintenance elevator.
It only led to more hidden floors. They would be the same. Needed to get back on to the normal floors.

Binary Johnny took his own microtool and wrenched apart the panel that housed the call elevator button, revealing a dense mess of connections behind it. He observed the cabling for a moment before plucking one free from its input.
He then rummaged around a pocket in his replica flight jacket and produced a connector that would remotely daisy-chain his data-slab into the exposed input port. Seconds later he had direct control of the elevator.

On Johnny’s instructions, the rest of us heaved the elevator doors open to an empty shaft. Johnny had made the elevator car stop just before our current floor with its roof almost flush with our floor.
Following Johnny’s lead we hopped on the roof and he instructed the car to slide up a few meters which took us to one-fifty-seven.
Without any doors here, Roderick and Dominic would have to break through the interior divide.

The pair of robots were reaching for the wall panel when Koto unexpectedly flared in my cerebrum, colour, sound, all exploding behind my eyes. During a liminal instance that manifested between photonic beats the sentient dubstep song increased in intensity. I knew Koto was warning me; danger!
No hesitation, no confusion, I ate the top of the elevator roof as a widening swathe of bullet holes blossomed across the wall, flinging chips of plaster over us.
Taken unawares, Johnny caught a round and went down soundlessly.

Weapon pods on Roderick and Dominic’s limb’s flicked opened, armaments popping out as they immediately returned fire, advanced threat detection able to extrapolate targets from bullet hole patterning.
“Drones,” Roderick’s harsh metallic voice warned us between bursts.
Koko brought our own drones; Felix and Sylvester online, the pair of Suayo gun-drones networked with tactical telemetry feeds from the robots and opened fire. Combined, focussed  firepower from the four soon did for the other drones. Smell of cordite hung in the air as silence and dust descended.
No more threats detected, the robots proceeded to knock down what remained of the partition while Koko got Tonakatsu to stabilise Johnny with nanite loaded dermal sealants, hit him with some hardcore stims and he was up.

Stepping out of the elevator shaft we were surprised to find ourselves in what seemed to be a hotel grand lobby.
A soft orange-gold glow radiated from buzzing replica filament lighting units fixed to walls painted apricot and lit an expansive, unoccupied area. Our boots squeaked distinctly on a polished floor of grey-marbling threaded with silvery veins while we inched forward. A number of well upholstered tangerine wingbacks were clustered around low, circular coffee tables in one corner, while in the opposite was an unmanned reception desk topped in a darkly stained cherry desk top. Adjacent was an equally empty hotel bar.

“There’s something ‘above’ us,” Noodles offered, ears twitching. There was more, Noodles seemed to think that ‘whoever’ was above were Seryy they were hunting.
Seryy seemed to shrug, admitting it was possible. Much of her memory prior to the orbital attack on The Bay was missing. Serry recalled being restrained in a container that had busted open during the attack. Escaping into the bay, she had nearly drowned before the Hop Sing gang had rescued and sheltered her from her pursuers.

Roderick confirmed there were no immediate threats on this floor, searching got nothing. The decision was made to take the stairs for the last three floors.
Got to the door which led to the square stairwell, concrete steps wound their course through an undecorated steel-reinforced shaft.

Got to one-fifty-eight. Stairwell opened into a silent corridor carpeted in thick crimson shag with rows of subdued spot lighting along apricot walls that led to numerous intersections. Lines of doors ran along both the corridors. One-fifty-eight also looked unoccupied. Zero threats detected.
Tried a door; led to an unlit room, lights auto-flicked on. A guestroom; fresh multi-blended egg-shell cotton sheets were smoothly draped over a double bed, obviously unused.
Adjacent was an equally unused steel and glass sideboard and opposite was a large dormant wall-slab.
Along one wall, fully drawn floor-to-ceiling vertical blinds masked the city beyond, thin slats of gold the only evidence of the dawn outside.
An adjoining door led to a replica porcelain and gold fitted ensuite.
Next to the door, on the interior, a small wall-slab embedded into the wall was waiting for some sort of check in code.
Returned to the corridor.
Another door, another guest room. Was time to move on.

One-fifty-nine was next.
The stairwell opened on to an open plan room stretching out ahead. Stark, overbright square light panels set in the ceiling above shone over a white with grey speckled epoxy-resin floor sparsely populated with minimalist steel workbenches littered with an array of scientific apparatus. Centrifuges, magnifiers, rows of glassware, medically branded desk-slabs and more.
Temperature was definitely a couple of degrees lower and a sharp chloric smell intruded into my nostrils from this seemingly empty laboratory.

I saw Roderick go weapons-hot; threat detected. The robot opened up, tabletop equipment buckled and spun off workbenches, shards of shattered glassware showered us as deafening gunfire raked across the room. Something was hit, but what? Nothing we could see as we dived for cover.
Return fire erupted from the far side of the room a moment later.  Behind a workbench, I flinched as it shuddered under sustained fire.Dominic joined the fight, as did Seryy in her own way.

Felt like altitude had suddenly changed during the fight; a rapid increase in pressure on my ears occurred, so intense my vision dimmed. The air somehow seemed to whip me as I felt something extrude from Seryy.
Whatever it was, it had been directed at the opposite end of the room luckily.
Furniture was sent crashing against the far wall, workbenches crumpled under some force, everything else was flattened.
Seryy keeled over, breathing was laboured, whatever she had done, wasn’t going to happen any time soon.
Whatever had been over there attacking us had stopped, apart from the buzzling of broken electricals, a silence descended.

Roderick bounded across the room. Driven by his robotic legs, he leapt on something that wasn’t visible to me and brought his polyferro booted foot down with distinct thud.
A spray of blood seemed to emerge from nowhere, splattering across the speckled floor. The air then wavered and something appeared under his boot.
With a thin-limbed frame and oversized head, was some sort of smallish man lifelessly sprawled out, his pallid ashen complexion and bottomless eyes resembled Seryy. Were these extraterrestrials from the old lab we found in the wilderness?
Had to press on, no time to speculate. Took stock, No serious injury sustained and Seryy was able to walk, gathered our wits and moved on.

Finally! We had hit one-sixty.
Stairs opened into a typically drab but also empty office. Grey carpeting, beige walls, panel ceiling lights, we’d seen it on the lower floors. A row of desk-filled glass walled cubicles ringed a central open area containing a labyrinth of grey office dividers that delineated between dozens of more desks, an active unmanned corporate Ravine branded data-slab on each one.
Along one side was a massive embedded Senonable wall-slab that took up most of that space.
“No threats detected,” came an announcement from Roderick.

Despite being unused, screens on the desk-slabs showed a variety of endlessly updating data on the desk-slabs. Rows of numerical values on readout arrays were constantly recalculating, stacks were rocketing off screen on some displays while others showed some kind of orbital profile solutions tracking numerous satellites..

Before Johnny or I could check out the desk-slabs, the Senonable winked into life.
Larger than life, Goji Rokkkau appeared on the enormous display against a featureless hazy background that contrasted with his almost silhouetted Gaongha carbon black suit and cream coloured scarf. Middle-aged with a firm square face and completely bald, his eyes glittered while a thin smile cracked his greying goatee, revealing a row of perfect teeth.
Looks like he’s been tracking us all along.
Set to full volume, the speakers crackled sharply, 
“I welcome you to join me in an adventure,” blared a voice through the speakers, then the Senonable went dead.

Without warning, the office began to tremble, the whole building shook.
Displays on the jittering desk-slabs had changed. Many were showing a countdown that was seconds from reaching zero. Others showed outside vid feeds of Goji Tower.
Feeds showed parts of the external cladding were shed, tumbling down in heaps while the tower continued to vibrate. As the countdown hit zero, a blinding yellow-white glare burst from the base of the tower followed by a violent eruption of flame and billowing smoke.
The concrete barriers erected earlier contained the flame, redirecting it along a previously hidden channel to the Neon City bay at a tremendous speed. Other displays showed the bay’s waters boiling.

I felt upward movement as the base of the tower detached itself from the ground, rising and  leaving a gout of fire in its wake.
It was a rocket, Goji Tower was a rocket, launching something into space?
Upward acceleration continued, immense weight pinned me to the floor, barely able to look, I could the others also slumped to the floor.
The pressure grew too much, struggling to breathe, I watched the ceiling panel lights seem to dim, oblivion crawled into the edges of my vision and the lights failed altogether.

Later, the others would tell me that the Goji Tower rocket had continued its trajectory. The sprawl of Neon City’s conurbation had fallen away, contracting into a single diminutive speck on the landscape that rolled towards an horizon which eventually revealed the curvature of the Earth backlit by a solar nimbus while spreading night seeped into the blue-white day.
The rocket then banked, adjusting to a new heading and through a viewport they saw the Earth rotate while a colossal orbital structure also slid into sight, almost filling the viewport.
Our destination; The Glitterband.

11th August 2021

It's a Wednesday and we're round Simon's for the 3rd session of Matt's Romance of the Perilous Land TTRPG.

​Location: Hykaria - Ascalon

Hykaria; Ascalon’s vibrant capital, well known for its industrious sea trade and commerce, sat upon a glittering coastline and was the jewel of The Summerland, the city welcomed a cosmopolitan population behind its resolute walls and soaring alabaster towers that watched over a sun-soaked ocean approach.

Narrow, shady alleyways cut through urban and mercantile neighbourhoods, criss-crossing wide thrumming white-paved avenues that ran the length of the capital and in one such shady alley was ‘The Hairy Fig’, a grimy wood and dirty glass fronted inn that nestled in an out of the way cobblestoned courtyard through an old archway.
It was here Colan, Titus, Trefor and Hobard had found themselves for the past week, nursing cheap beers in the small inn while sat at worn, old oak tables in a smoky common room poorly lit by dusty slats of weak light that streamed through shutters and was populated by perpetually inebriated patrons who scoured at distrusted outsiders.

While pondering their next action, our company was approached by a woman of middling years with drab brown hair, in a grey woollen frock, a look of  recognition across her face.
Introducing herself as Joan, she explained that the company had once in the past helped a friend of hers and now she went on, it was she who needed help.

Joan continued; Georgina was a friend of hers and had been taken to the ‘battle pits’ and was due to fight in four days. 

The battle pits were known to the company.
Extensive use of the battle pits were made by King Vortimer as harsh punishment; forcing criminals to fight to the death. The barbarism was a popular form of paid entertainment among the elite class of Hykaria who found it sufficiently cruel to slake their baying taste for blood.
The entire affair was managed by the king’s own gold cloaked guards.

Joan went on: Georgina, disguised as ‘George’ had been caught stealing some documentation from the residence of Baronet Philip, a distant cousin of Vortimer and considered to be minor royalty.
George had been accused of stealing information with the intent of harming the city and then slung into the pits.

Intrigued, the company agreed to help Joan.

​The task would require some degrees of subtlety, Joan explained. It would be wise to avoid the watch, she added.
For some time, the company and Joan waited. The gloomy mote filled sunlight that lit the common room lessened before fading altogether as day darkened, replaced by tallow candle light.
Only then did they vacate The Hairy Fig when night had settled over Hykaria They headed into dimly lit streets draped in the blanket of night which were mostly empty, only the bars and major thoroughfares presented any activity which the company deftly circumvented.
The battle pits’ venue was well known to most but more importantly; the location of the holding cells were known to Joan.
She took the company closer to the capital’s centre and as they strode in, they saw spluttering fiery braziers give way to gas lighting which in turn eventually gave way to magical lighting!
Their journey ended in some tightly clustered neighbourhood of timber-framed townhouses that gave the appearance of leaning over them.

Behind shutters, a hundred eyes seemed to pierce the company as Joan gave a coded knock at one particular door while they waited. Swiftly, it swung open, she entered and equally swiftly it shut. The company was alone.
Two minutes and the door opened again, the company was waved in by an old man dressed in some sort of nightgown, consternation written in the creases which decorated the face of his balding visage.
Geis was his name, Joan told the company and he could get them into the pits. Geis warned them that their task would be a dangerous one.

​Once Geis had dressed and pulled on a smock and boots, he led Joan and the company into a twisting warren of narrow and mostly unlit alleys, the moon was nearing its zenith in a cloudless starry sky as they reached a large rust-licked iron disc embedded in the paved ground at a junction.
The company knew enough of cities to know this was a manhole cover that would lead to Kykaria’s sewage network.

With some effort and the correct tools, the manhole cover was wrenched open with a metallic screech.
The company was surprised to find no smell emanating from the opened way. Before they descended, Geis handed a piece of vellum to Joan who in return nodded.

​To the surprise of the company, the tunnel was exceptionally well constructed and was both wide and free of effluence. Whatever this tunnel was, it was not connected to the sewers, at least not directly.
Trefor uttered the words of a blessing and gesticulated, a soft but cold light radiated from his hand. The company marched onwards.

The tunnel led the company north-west, various branches and junctions materialised out of the darkness ahead, branching off into darkness. Joan ignored them, seeming to know her way. For ten minutes they marched without incident; then they saw glittering eyes in Trefor’s light, malevolently staring at them.

Rats were ahead, enormous ones too, which also had little fear of man. With animalistic pace the rats lunged. It was a short fight though, enormous or not, the rats could not withstand the onslaught of the company and soon they were defeated.

Pressing on, the company soon encountered the sprawled remains of some poor solitary soul who had not fared so well against the vermin.
Dead for some time, the cadaver had in part been consumed and what remained had decomposed beyond recognition. Even so, the company could identify the torn uniform of the city watch on the dead man. Whatever had possessed the soldier to enter these tunnels?
With little else of interest, the company continued, soon stopping at what Joan told them; was their destination.
A ladder led an iron manhole above.

Trefor climbed up and with a laborious grunt managed to lift and slide the heavy disc aside a little from his precarious position. Beyond the cover, it was unlit.
Peering inside, Hobard could make out the carved wooden legs, a table directly above the manhole. Further on, he could see some sort of bookcase lined with tomes. Was this some sort of workroom, Hobard thought.

To be continued.