The heroes gather in the town square, gathering together the two-and-a-half weeks worth of supplies. A wagon of supplies heads off to the dock to load provisions onto the Mystic Wave. Dr. Wolf and the Gunslinger drag a small cart over to a wagon, but the Wizard stops them.

“Gentlemen, there’s no way you will make it to the Tiherean jungle and back in time with this wagon, but this wagon.” The Wizard motions towards the Inventor’s workshop. The twin bay doors swing open and a strange machine sits inside. An engine is firing in the machine’s engine bay, and the wagon creeps forward. 

“This was his latest invention: a steam powered wagon complete!” exclaims the Wizard. The vehicle has a single smoke stack sprouting out of the bottom front of the wagon running up the side. The vehicle has a cockpit with a co-navigator seat, a large compartment that both cargo and people could ride in. The vehicle has a bed full of coal with a chute that deposits coal into a conveyor belt running to the main engine. The vehicle sets up five-foot high on large rubber tires and is covered in thick armor.

The Gunslinger whistles, marveling at the machine, “That Inventor keeps giving, even in death.”

A group of young men from the town start loading the provisions into the back of the vehicle. The Gunslinger, Marksman, Dr. Wolf, and the Distiller load up in the armored vehicle and the engine roars. The tires spin and the vehicle leaps away, speeding down the southerly road toward the Tiherean jungle.

The Rocket walks up the ramp of the Phoenix Dawn with the Scribe and Hero following behind.

“Good luck my friends,” calls the Wizard waving to them. The Hero turns and give a solemn nod and steps into the starship. The Scribe waves enthusiastically before disappearing into the ship’s hull. The thruster light, pulling the ship up into the air, then in a flash the Dawn speeds off into the sky.

The Wizard turns to Captain Crimson and the Barkeep.

“Then there were three,” chuckles the Barkeep.

“And our vessel awaits,” crows Captain Crimson, “Off on another whirl-wind adventure that we may or may not come back from.”

“Hopefully, former,” retorts the Barkeep.

The heroes walk toward the dock, ready to board the Mystic Wave. 


The Phoenix Dawn hurtles through the cosmos towards the coordinates given by the Wizard. 

“Approaching coordinates,” alerts ART.

“There’s nothing out here,” says the Scribe, “We haven’t seen a system for a while now.”

“The coordinates he gave us point to deep space, systems and civilizations are pretty few and far…” begins the Rocket before trailing off.

“Sir, we have an object on our scanners,” says ART. A large object, the size of a moon slowly begins to creep into view.

“I see it,” replies the Rocket, “but I don’t know what it is.”

Ahead of the Dawn lies a smooth metallic octahedron, floating alone in the middle of space.

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